#still better than my own slop meals

[huhwhuhs]

Alright time to write the obligatory Melinda suicide drabble don't read if that shit fucks you up

◇So... what's left?◇

◇An entire world, I know that, I have so much to explore.◇

◇...◇

[Blood dripped from the hands of their host, their husk-like body practically drenched in it. Melinda can feel the tears falling down their cheeks. They don't taste sweet anymore.]

◇What was the point of me going up here? I'm still imperfect in every way. I don't know how to be a person, the husk won't grow properly while I'm inside it, people will notice that I'm not like them.◇

[The body's legs would give out, Melinda letting them fall, she can taste how pain seeps into their mind from their bruised knees.]

◇Why did I even bring you into this? You had a family, didn't you? People who cared about you, who know who you are, who gave you a name and loved you for being an individual.◇

◇Why is it all so unfair?◇

◇Why don't I get warm meals from my mother? Playful fighting with my siblings? Why do you even get a dad!? Why don't I deserve this too!?◇

[The shaking would stop, she didn't even realize she was until he heard something go pop. The host was probably dead. She couldn't bring herself to care.]

◇... I'm a monster, aren't I? A parasite just like they said. I take and take and never give enough to make up for it.◇

◇I defected from my mother, let down generations of my family. I thought that gaining free will- breaking away from the mold would finally make me feel something-!◇

◇... But it never worked, did it?◇

◇I'm no better than they are, in fact, I've only made more lives worse.◇

◇The cold was miserable, but damn if it wasn't familiar, if it wasn't comforting in some sick and twisted way I can't even describe because it's so ingrained into my DNA I can't deny it!◇

◇God forbid I just want to feel WARM!◇

[Melinda would let go of the body, letting it drop to the ground as she curled up in its center, trying to hold onto the quickly fading bits of body heat.]

◇But I'm right there, aren't I? So close to the heat I craved. The thing I've heard so many of the others fantasize about feeling once more. The thing I've read about in books that are men sacrifice their own lives to get just that last bit closer.◇

[Melinda would tear a hole in the back of the body, peering out. The sun burned their newly pink eyes.]

◇Just a taste. A taste of how good it feels. I deserve that much for all I've accomplished.◇

[Black tentacles creep out from under the shade, smoke slowly curling off of them as it seared into the abyssal flesh.]

[The creature would crawl out, laying in the sun. Two glowing rings staring up at the burning star in the sky.]

[Their body withers with every second, shrivling and shrinking as it tries to keep some part of it left alive.]

[It sizzles and bubbled, dried, crusted flesh melting off their form and only revealing the more sensitive slop underneath.]

[It's eyes burned out, bright pink fading to white, then sizzling to black.]

◇... I understand why Icarus flew towards the sun.◇

◇It's finally warm.◇

[groovesnjams]

gRooVES 'n JaMs S. O. T. Y. 2024

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"Era" by Tayla Parx ft. Tkay Maidza

DV:

Now, some people say "era" is a term owned wholly and completely by Taylor Swift in 2024. But I say, words change hands all the time. Some people say she's too powerful, too omnipresent. But I say, we have shouldn't give her any more credit than she deserves. Some say nothing can stop her. But I say, we've got to start somewhere, and that somewhere is with "Era", a better song than Taylor Swift's released in an eternity. This is a joyful, joyous bop and a vital step in reducing the amount of space taken up by Swift in the pop sphere, and I'm only slightly unserious about this. Admittedly: in one sense this is just a hype song, and we all love those but also how much do we need another one? But it's in the details that "Era" becomes something truly special. Parx and xSDTRK deliver a production that snaps and bangs, but also soars and swoops - it demands attention from the first hit and never relents. Yet Parx more than rises to the level it demands, her nimble flow skipping through the song, pivoting and leaping and never staying still for more than a moment. And the lyric? I don't want to overstate it but "My one-two step/ Ciara" deserves a Nobel Prize. Not to be outdone, Tkay Maidza brings a characteristically dynamo energy to her verse: every line or couplet an aphoristic gem, the sort of thing you could have overlaid on a desaturated photo and gone viral with once upon a time. Together they're unforgettable - in a more just world, they'd be enough to bring down a juggernaut.

MG:

I've given the monoculture more thought this year and instead of the position I'd previously maintained ("we are still in a monoculture, we have always been in a monoculture") I've shifted my stance to "there was never a monoculture." What we thought of as a monoculture was nothing more than the low visibility of anything counter to the mainstream. But, like, goths are nothing new! Not to again bring up the makeup videos but a popular pro/con year end position was in response to so-called "microtrends." In the sense that I'm referring to them, microtrends are just anything that's popular on TikTok for a day or a week or whatever a standard unit of time is over there. But what stood out to me about these microtrends is that it wasn't the same groups of people reinventing themselves constantly, it was one group dominating for a period and then being supplanted by something quite opposite -- MedSpa beauty with lots of filler and botox and everything overdrawn and exaggerated vs. "butterfly eyes" which use the natural contour of creased skin to create an iridescent effect of wing-beats on the face. You can't do both, it's not the deterioration of monoculture, it's highlighting the fact that we could never all be the same.

Anyway, that's all largely taking place in the physical realm. Mentally, I think we're closer to a version of monoculture, and "Era" reflects that. No, this song does not supplant Taylor Swift's monopoly on the word, if anything it's closer to the omnipresent dupe; the world already has great fondness for "eras" so name your song "era" and capitalize on the zeitgeist! But it's not just fondness, our status as an online society steered by complicated algorithms and overexposure means that we are all very much in tune with our multiplicity of identity. We are all in various eras at all time. Our gluttony era when we eat a meal. Our fasting era when we're between meals. Our messy era when we need to shower. Our clean girl era when we're in the shower slathering our bodies with fresh slop. It goes on, our boats beating back the ceaseless current.

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

i'm very sorry that you have to have a body, one that will hurt you and be the subject of so much of your fear, it will betray you, be used against you, then it will fail on you, my dear

tw: major character death, stroke

an: uh hi i crave validation and love to talk about this thing i’m working on so uh have one of the side pieces i wrote for it C:

-

2012.

The Christmas Eve rain beat against the window as Jacob Marley, one half of Marley and Scrooge Financial, looked out over the London landscape. It was a terrible night, even by London’s standards. The rain seemed to lash at the window like some sort of typhoon, as if trying to break the glass and reach inside.

No doubt it was the rain that had brought on his headache.

Marley rubbed at his eyes as he looked out at the darkened sky. He’d had it ever since he’d gotten off the flight from New York. Must have been the elevation. He’d better not be picking up a flu from some nasty brat. He had no time to be sick. Scrooge was in Beijing until the New Year, closing out an account they’d been working on for years. It was his duty to hold down the fort until she returned, and he had no time to be ill.

But still the headache continued, throbbing persistently behind his eye. Fantastic. Americans.

Marley gave one last look at the infernal weather before turning and leaving his office. He needed a coffee.

Bob Crachit was in the kitchen, furiously stirring at some container on the counter. Her dark hair, barely held back with a cheap hair clip, tumbled over her face as she worked. She brushed it away, but all too soon it fell back again. Were Scrooge here, she’d have scolded Bob. She never looked presentable enough, the clothes she’d managed to scrape together that were office appropriate far below the standards of most everyone else in the firm. But Bob was the best executive assistant in London, and both Marley and Scrooge knew that. So her ‘issues’ were overlooked.

Even the most recent one. Bob stopped stirring at what looked like her dinner to place a hand on her stomach, winded from the effort. She was winded from most things these days, being nearly too pregnant to walk, let alone work. But business was business, and she needed the money. She rolled her neck one way and then the other, trying to gain some relief from her discomfort. And then she returned to her work. Bob was like that.

It made Marley feel a certain…way when he saw her fatigue, though he dare not voice it, even to himself. 

He didn’t bother to clear his throat as he entered, and Bob jolted in surprise as soon as she caught sight of him.

“Ah! Mr. Marley!” He had to give her credit. She could put on a happy face at the drop of a hat. What had been an expression of fatigue and discomfort turned to one of happy helpfulness. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously.” Marley replied. “How about a cup of coffee, Crachit?” “Oh, no thank you!” She said with a smile, her good humor not dampened by Marley’s general aura of unpleasantness. But she turned to start one anyway. “I don’t think we have any more of the Arabia you prefer, Mr. Marley. Ms. Scrooge said-.”

“Not to bother ordering any.” Marley finished with a grumble. Figures. The unpleasant smell of burnt sodium reached his senses, and he damn near recoiled, the pain in his head inflaming at the sense.

“Dear god, what is that?!”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Bob said, moving to move her meal. “It’s my dinner, sir. Instant ramen. I suppose it *is* a bit overdone.”

“You eat that slop?” He said incredulously. Bob laughed, embarrassed.

“It’s my late lunch. Just to tide me over until dinner. ‘Fraid I’m always hungry these days. But I can just toss it if it bothers you. After all, tonight we get a proper feast.” She said with ill-hidden delight. “The hubby’s getting it all ready. A proper roast meal. I’ve been saving for ages. I don’t think the Queen’ll eat better than we will.”

Marley doubted that, much to his own surprise. Crachit was ill-paid even by assistant standards, and much of her money went to supporting a disabled husband, paying London rent, and dealing with a now-impending baby. Why the damn fool got herself in the family way when she couldn’t afford it was beyond him. It was none of his business what others chose to do, but it became so when it hurt his business. And she’d be out on Mat Leave before long, and then what would they do. The girl was competent, even if it was her only saving grace. Very inconvenient. Bad for business.

His mind ached.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breath out. Crachit stopped her prattling. “Mr. Marley?” She asked, quietly. “Are you alright?”

Her voice was so sincere. It nearly made him mad. The damn fool was worried about him, and he never spared her a thought of worry. Something, deep in his pained mind, prodded him. He didn’t like it.

“Fine. Headache. Look, Crachit.” He reached into his walled, pulling out a glossy credit card worth more than Bob’s entire family put together. “My head is killing me, and since Ms. Scrooge in her infinite kindness has seen it fit to deny me my coffee until the New Year, go get me one. From the cafe up the street. With-.”

“Oat milk and two stevia.” Bob replied instantly.”Of course, Mr. Marley. I’ll be right back.”

Marley turned to look out the window. And he looked at the meager meal Crachit had to eat. And something twisted in him again. “Crachit!” He called out. He heard the sound of footfalls before she poked her head around the corner.

“Yes?”

“Get a sandwich while you’re there.”

“Yes, of course.” Bob replied. “What would you like on it, Mr. Marley?”

“Whatever you want, you bloody fool. It’s for you?”

Bob’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Did I stutter, Crachit?”

“No, sir.”

“Get my coffee and yourself a sandwich, and be quick about it. I need to review the New York notes with you.”

Crachit couldn’t hide her smile of pleasure as she nodded, and that made him feel even worse. Shouldn’t have even offered in the first place. Now his mind hurt from multiple things. He found himself wishing Scrooge was here. Things seemed easier when she was around. Facing their present made it easier to ignore the past. Especially on December 24th, of all nights, where Crachit had to be there with her baby bump and-

The pain burbled behind his left eye, springing up like water. Marley stumbled, bracing himself against the counter. *Jesus Christ* it hurt. He’d ask her to get pain killers on the way back. The strongest they had.

“Crachit!” He called out, hoping she was still in listening distance.

But the word did not leave his mouth. Distantly, as if underwater, he heard his own voice. He heard the shapeless sounds that cried from his mouth. And then, then Jacob Marley felt fear.

The pain grew, bursting out into his skull. It wrenched a scream from his throat and crippled his body, like a puppet whose strings all were cut at once. His limbs flailed out as he fell to the floor, that distant voice that was and wasn’t his own screaming all the while.

He felt himself hit the ground even all through the pain and his mind was melting, struck with volt after volt of electricity, and *jesus* he could feel every cell of his mind *die* and he was dying he had to be he was going to die, right here on the floor of his counting house and he was alone, all alone, and the pain rose up into his throat and into his body, chaining him to the floor and chaining him to his fading mind and chaining him to *god no please no here not alone not with her so far from me im sorry im sorry fire flame volt make it sTOP*

He thought the word *Ellen*.

And then he thought nothing at all.

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Any more bug fables vore prompts?

Absolutely, I’ve been wanting to do more! Love those funny little bugs. (Also, so no one asks, I put Z.asp on Team S.nakemouth for these prompts because y'know. Guys only around here. It's convenient.)

"N-No, don't!" K.abbu tries to let out one last plea before he was gone with a wet gulp, further bloating out the already heavy, round pink stomach. Monsieur S.carlet smirks, letting out a pleased groan as he feels the last of that heavy beetle drop into his gut like a rock. Definitely the best one, he's decided, though that moth and wasp that were on his team were just as enjoyable. Same as that ladybug that thought he could trick him, but that one was long since digested. The three in his stomach are much more lively, at least, and definitely his biggest meal yet. A wet belch escapes the ant, very unbecoming of him, but he quite enjoys it. He pushes the tip of his umbrella into his stomach, feeling it sink in and jab one of those thrashing bugs. "Ah...you adventuring groups really are all the same, hm? You might not have fallen for my facade but..." He shoves further down on his gut, belching thickly again. "...mm...you're still too weak to fight off against me. But you all make such good food at least. That's all you're really good at though." His taunting just seems to make the bugs thrash around more inside. He can feel that speedy wasp trying to kick a way out. That moth feels a bit chilly in there, trying and failing to use his strange magic to get out. And that delicious beetle, his sharp horn worthless despite it ramming into his stomach walls. All their efforts just make S.carlet's gut slosh and bounce around as it works over them, knocking out deep belches that echo in the cave he used as a hideout. Any passing bugs might think there was a grumbling monster nearby, which...is half true. S.carlet is a monster, through and through, and his stomach is grumbling and gurgling loudly as it processes his three-course meal. Belches roar out of him, further helping spread a rumor of the monster in the tunnel. That's what people will suspect caused the disappearance of the bugs, and not the pink ant who waddled out, his stomach wobbling and sloshing around with the remaining slop of a trio of adventurers. A golden medal is in his hand, still dripping in slime as he smiles. "I'm not sure if I'm adventurer material...but if this is the best they can manage," he presses his umbrella into his gut again, working out a wet BLORB! from inside, "then I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll find much better meals with this to show off anyhow..." His stomach is already grumbling excitedly at the idea of more bugs to devour.

During the large G.olden Festival, Team S.nakemouth decided to take part in the eating contest together just for fun. Z.asp tapped out pretty early, his stomach hurting after only a few leaves. That left K.abbu and L.ief going, but the moth proved to be a much faster and much bigger eater. So much so that, once he finished his own plate, he grabs Z.asp's and polishes that off, too, while K.abbu was still eating. But he's still hungry. The moth looks at Z.asp, drooling a bit. He's never felt this hungry...the binge eating is setting off something inside of him. He grabs Z.asp and opens wide, engulfing the debilitated wasp's head into his jaws and beginning to gulp him down. K.abbu notices and cries out, trying to grab onto their fellow teammate's legs to pull him out. "L.eif, stop! This isn't how you do these types of competitions!" Despite hsi strength, K.abbu isn't making any progress, L.ief's wet gulping much stronger than his pulling. So before long, Z.asp is down the hatch, and L.ief's lips are going over K.abbu's arms. The beetle lets out a scream before his head is fully engulfed and he's taking the same trip down Z.asp did. L.eif is barely cognizant of what he's doing, even as he slurps over K.abbu's stomach and sucks him down with wet gulps. He's just hungry. Unimaginably hungry. And so he keeps eating, sending the last of his friend down the hatch, and then scarfing down the last few leaves on his plate. That's the last of the food, and with a deep belch, L.eif is declared the winner of the contest...in the hopes that he won't eat anymore bugs. Which, to his credit, he doesn't. He simply goes about the rest of the festival, acting as if nothing was wrong even as his stomach churns and gurgles wetly over his struggling friends. Even as he melted them alive, he barely seemed to realize what he was doing to them, even snacking a bit more when his gut began to get smaller. By the end, L.ief is left a lot fatter, belching softly into his hand as he rubs over his bubbling gut with a free hand. "....hm. We should do that again next year," L.ief comments as his stomach growls in agreement.

A trio of belches ring out from the prison and across the waters. Z.asp, L.ief, and K.abbu sit back to back with one another, their guts bulging out in front of them in various sizes. The cells sit open and empty, the building quiet other than the loud, thick gurgling of their guts all working hard on those missing prisoners. "Uuugh...why did I agree to this..?" Z.asp groans. He's eaten the least of the three bugs, though it was still a lot by his own standards. His stomach is rumbling the loudest, clearly not pleased with being pushed so far past its limits. It's working hard at digesting all of that squirming meat but it'll certainly take some time to do that. Especially with how much everyone is moving inside. L.ief lets out a rather loud belch, some frost blowing out of his maw. "You complain too much," the moth says afterward. "We could still go for a bit more." He rubs over his stomach, which is working hard on his prey. He ate the most by far, and some of those early meals are already being reduced into slush. The rest won't be that much farther behind. "I'm glad it's over myself," K.abbbu comments, pushing down on some bulges on his gut. "I can't imagine how long this is going to take to work off...but I feel much better knowing that these criminals won't be in our way from now on! It's good to know we were here during their attempted breakout!" He pushes down on someone's head and belches deeply again, patting his gut a few times roughly. Z.asp belches again, too, much harsher and letting out a groan afterward. "You can't convince me this was worth it. I'm going to have a stomachache for a week..." The three bugs continue to chat, none of them paying too much mind to the bugs fighting for their lives in their guts. Steadily, they'd melt down, being reduced to a thick chyme that pumps through the bugs. Their guts round out and shrink down, and before long, the three of them are plumping up as well. L.eif becomes the biggest of the trio thanks to that, even more so than K.abbu, with a large stomach that hangs off of him and the rest of his once slender form now much wider. K.abbu is still large, too, getting much heavier all over with a plush belly. All of Z.asps' weight goes to his thighs and gut, which he grumbles and complains about the whole time. In the end, the three bugs are waddling along, bellies wobbling and sloshing as they move on, the prisoners now settled into new permanent cells.

[unascended]

" that's a lot of blood. "

@feyrevelry has offered blood, blood, gallons of the stuff!

MMM, YES. WAIT, WAS IT? Astarion blinked and tilted his head down, tongue laving over blood-soaked lips to observe the carnage that was the front of his body. Surely that was what that piercing gaze was locked on, and how could Astarion blame Sylverian for commenting? He was soaked to the bone with the stuff. Normally he was much more demure in how he went about feeding - a testament to his own standards as well as his oh so thoughtful consideration of others' delicate sensibilities. This slop of blood dripping and drooling from his lips, down his chin, washing down his armor and nearly soaking through his pants as if he'd been hit by a tide of the most wonderfully sanguine variety, however... was not normally what he allowed others to see of him.

To be fair the bloated boar of a man dead at his feet had earned a sloppy and ungraceful death. He'd said something, hadn't he? Astarion could hardly recall now. Fresh thinking blood was singing its way through his body and the high of a battle won continued to vibrate through his still veins. This unfortunate fuck just so happened to say the wrong thing when none of his companions were left standing.

Shifting on his feet, Astarion swept his tongue over his lips again in a vain attempt to clear them of the slowly cooling and sticky mess cloying them. He raised a hand with every intention of pushing his mussed hair back into place only to pause as the urge to suck the viscera from his fingertips nearly overtook him, just as the rage and blood lust had. He'd never drained someone from start to finish before. Hells, he'd never had the privilege of waste such as this in his entire existence as a vampire. No wonder Cazador dangled his own wastefulness in front of his spawn. How decadent to be (at least somewhat) sated despite having spilled half the meal over himself and the ground.

He waved his hand in front of him, flecks of blood splashing the ground and possibly even his ever so beautiful companion, and cleared his throat in an attempt to draw Sylverian's gaze back to his face and away from his blood-smeared leathers.

"My face is up here, and I know it's better to look at than that." Normally the amusement in his tone might have been mocking, a false flirtation. Not now. He was happy. "I'd say I'm sorry about the mess, but... I'm not sorry at all. Onward to camp, then?"

Despite the satisfaction he was in desperate need of a bath.

"Or was that so shocking that we really need to discuss it right this instant?"

[crimsonbathed]

[ BURN ] - sitting at a fire they built, he's pulling their rustic skewer away from the flame (much to her distaste). "Hey, it's already dead--no need to kill it twice, yeah? Oh, you... like it like that? Well, I'll take mine off. You can eat all the blackened bird you want. I, for one, like eatin' my meat before it turns to ash."

Meme Source X Trigger warnings: Animal Death, animal violence, descriptions of carnage.

Warmth licked at her face as Carrion sat atop a rock behind the giant. For the fire was too hot that it felt as though she would melt in to a puddle of disgusting slop, should she dare venture any closer. Though the smell of charring meat dared her to crawl closer. To reach in and tear the meal to bits. Her mind however, knew better than to risk moving even an inch closer to the hungry flames as they danced in the air. Enchanting her with their bright colors and chaotic nature. Truly free. An amazing force that threatened all who dared to imprison or control it. Such a lovely thing. Her attention, was stolen from the beautiful fire, however, by the boys remark.

"You dare insult me?" She hissed, wasting no time to throw a good sized stone at his neck, followed by an assault of smaller pebbles. The bird in question had barely even begun to change in color. For its eyes were still beady black orbs staring at her, terror frozen behind glossy hues. There was no sign of them lightening in to the gleaming white that allowed her to see her own reflection. It's feathers were puffed and crisping at the edges, perfect toothpicks to pick out lingering gristle after she enjoyed the meal. If the feathers did not harden, then they would break between her gums, and she would have to find a twig to dig out not only the feather, but the original gristle. It would be a nightmare most uncalled for.

"Perhaps I should place your arm above the fire to see just how long it takes for you to consider it to be turning to ash." Carrion took to the air, her fingers taking a strong grip of his ear as she pulled and tugged his head towards and away from the fire by the pointed tip. Laughter reverberated within her throat before she darted away from him, returning to the spot she previously resided. "You should know that just because things appear to be blackened by the flames, it does not mean they are burned. When mine is tender and fair, whilst you chew and recoil at the tough, raw insides of your meal, you will see what I mean."

[saltymongoose]

Heyyyyy!! It's the anon from earlier!! (You can call me Corvid anon :DD), now now, cracks my knuckles, tis an idea of mine ;

Former Hotdog Vendor reader (preferably one who defected from the AAHW after Tricky decided to kill agents for fun?) meeting up with the Main 3 again after they had decided to grab a bite to eat in a (seemingly) empty AAHW canteen?

Picturing Sanford and Deimos going "0_0" after seeing them go ham on some agents!!

Hey Corvid! This was a really good request, I had a lot of fun with it. Hope you like these! :) 💕

Their Reaction to Hotdog Vendor!Reader ft. Deimos, Sanford & Hank

(TW: Violence)

You’d had it up to here with the AAHW. First, it was the stale food in the break room and the coffee pot that could never boil water properly. Then there was the unpaid overtime and the random calls on weekends to come in because your coworkers “had an incident”. But this was the last straw. You knew that the AAHW dealt with dangerous people (it was created just to end Hank J. Wimbleton, after all). But having to deal with a psychotic, supernatural power-possessing, zombified clown was well beyond your pay grade (and job requirements at that).

You didn’t know why he decided to attack the facility where you worked, but it didn’t matter. When everyone around you was scrambling in a panic, trying to either get a weapon to go fight them or run away, you just decided to take off the sunglasses the agency had provided and walk away. They really didn't pay you enough to deal with this.

After leaving the AAHW for good, you decided to pursue your true passion: cooking. Granted, the only thing you could really make out of the supplies you had access to were hotdogs, but you were sure they’d be the best in Nevada if you perfected the recipe. It was certainly better than whatever slop the agency served anyhow.

Due to the fact that you were an excellent chef, you gained a lot of loyal customers in a short time. Agents, Mercs, Bandits, even the murderous clown himself (“Tricky” he said his name was. Well, shouted, but still.) bought from you, and quite frequently at that. You decided not to bring up the fact that he murdered all your past coworkers, no point in having a grudge against him.

It seems that no matter who you were or what group you belonged to, a hot meal that actually tastes good was too much to pass up. As such, it was really no surprise to you when the three most wanted criminals in the entirety of Nevada stopped by your cart. After Tricky’s regular patronage, nothing really shocked you anymore.

However, they couldn’t say the same. When Sanford and Deimos first stumbled upon you in the middle of a dilapidated city, they were stunned to see you going about your business, serving Fanatics of all people as gunfire echoed from behind them. When you spotted them, you simply gave a tired, but welcoming grin. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Were you crazy?!

They were apprehensive at first, wondering if you were planted here to poison them or something. After waiting around for a few minutes and seeing the others not drop dead and/or choke and convulse on the floor from the hotdogs, they hesitantly stepped forward and placed their own orders. (They’d been out all day, so hopefully Doc wouldn’t mind if they took a break to catch a quick bite.) Your food was much better than expected, Deimos even thought you outdid Gil and his burgers. (Which you thought was high praise, Gil was famous for a reason. Nice guy too.)

You became fast friends with the two early on, as they made a point of stopping by whenever they knew you were in the area. They'd stick around and entertain you as you went about completing orders, Deimos telling jokes and stories with Sanford adding on with enough context for you to know what they were talking about. The latter would even swap recipes and cooking tips with you, much to your delight (it'd been a long time since you spoke to anyone who knew how to do more than scramble an egg).

They were nice enough to give you little updates on whatever chaos they'd been a part of in the area, or warn you when they thought danger was coming. The two would even crowd around you like bodyguards when one of your more intimidating customers came up. Really, you had that part of your job handled, but it was still pretty nice of them.

Then, of course, there was Hank. You'd originally met him through Tricky, in probably the most unconventional way possible. The two had been having another one of their fights in the area, and you had looked up from the tongs you'd been cleaning to see the clown get thrown out of a window right in front of you, face planting into the dirt near your cart. After taking a quick glance at your cart to make sure none of the broken glass had damaged anything (or gotten into your food, that wouldn't pass inspection), you leaned over your "counter" to get a better look at him. "Hey, you good?"

Hank paused in confusion when he threw open the door, finding the clown handing over some cash to you for a couple of hotdogs instead of getting ready to rush at him again. ...What?

It even seemed like Tricky had forgotten all about their altercation, as he didn't pay any notice to Hank at all. He just gave you a cheery (and loud) goodbye before waving and disappearing underground, his sign disappearing into an alley. (You couldn't help but grimace. He should have eaten before going into the dirt. Seems you'd have to remind him again.)

It happened too quickly for Hank to even react, and you looked over to find him staring blankly at the hole the clown left in the ground. You coughed (trying to hold back a laugh) and his red gaze flashed up to you. Immediately, he pulled his pistol out and aimed it at you. (The clown hadn't even tried injuring you. Were you an ally of his?)

You put your hands up in a placating gesture, showing him that you were harmless (though you only half expected to be spared. This was Hank J. Wimbleton, after all). "Hey man, I don't know either...Do you want a hotdog or something? I've got barbecue sauce."

He lowered his gun.

Soon you had another murderous grunt for a regular. While you couldn't say for sure if he thought of you as a friend, he certainly didn't make himself scarce. He seemed to appear even more than Sanford and Deimos, the only warning being the sound of incoming gunfire before he showed up out of nowhere. He was one of those regulars who tended to show up almost daily, and he seemed pleased when you always had his usual order prepared.

(2BDamned was quick to take took notice of this change in Hank's routine. He was always quick with completing missions, but now he was taking twice the amount of time he usually did. He outright asked him about it and was met with a simple response. "I got hungry" was all he said, refusing to elaborate further before he left on another job. Looks like Doc would have to do his own investigating.)

While Hank was around you a lot, he didn't talk nearly as much as the other two. The most you'd heard him say was a raspy "Thanks" once you gave him a free drink, but that was fine. He seemed content just standing near you as he ate. (You were taken aback by his metal jaw though. That couldn't have been comfortable).

The only problem you had was his unfortunate habit of murdering/scaring away the line of people who would queue up for you. ('That's a lot of money that just went down the drain,' you thought, sighing in exasperation. Then again, there was nothing stopping you from going through their pockets now.)

Overall, the three thought you were odd, but they were grateful for you (and your food, of course). Finding someone who actually didn’t want to kill them was pretty rare, but someone who seemed almost completely non-hostile was almost unheard of. You were a breath of fresh air, and they were glad to call you a friend.

(You did show favoritism towards them, even if you didn't admit it. You'd say your kindness was just because they were regulars, but the increased amount of change you'd give them "by accident" and the free pretzels and wings you'd hand out when you noticed they looked more tired than usual revealed it.)

While they could never tell where exactly you'd be, they knew which areas you frequented. Given this fact, it was very suspicious when none of them came across you for a few weeks. Deimos and Sanford were worried; they did have a lot of enemies, what if they targeted you for being close with them?

Meanwhile, Hank would take longer on missions, using his outings as a chance to search the area for you at the other's request. He had an inkling that you were fine (he was confident that he'd have found your cart or something by now if you were dead), but the way you disappeared without a trace caused him some concern.

2BDamned, who had received enough intel from the SQ's agents to know about the easy-going hotdog vendor, knew that your relocation was probably the cause for their weird behavior. He had received a note from you, accepting his request to work as a cook for the SQ, but had decided not to mention it. He figured they'd find out soon enough and slid them a mission briefing the next day asking them to enter an "abandoned" AAHW facilities to look for some supplies. Of course, he also neglected to inform them that the AAHW was also seen still milling about in the area. He figured that if they witnessed your combat skills in action, it would make it easier for them to stop being so protective. Then there would be no issue with the more covert things he had planned for you to handle. (Customer service jobs happen to be excellent for recon and information gathering.)

Doc had told them that the building was cleared out already, so they weren't really cautious when they entered the place. It was just a typical in and out job, not like their raids. They immediately headed to the armory, filling their packs with as much ammunition and guns they as could fit (though Hank was more focused on the blades). After they'd hefted the heavy duffel bags up onto their shoulders, they exited the room, weaving back through the corridor the way they came in.

But as they came to a fork in the hallway, Deimos paused, looking at the signs on the wall. One path lead to the exit, but the other pointed to the canteen. And it had been a while since he's eaten.

"Why don't we stop there? I'm sure Doc won't mind if we get something, it'll only take a few minutes."

Sanford was quick to agree, but Hank just refused (he was one of those people who rarely ever felt hungry anyway). They tried bribing him with one of the guns, but he just ignored them as he continued on his way. Well, it was his loss.

Sanford froze after opening the door to the cafeteria. There was some loud rustling from the other side of the room, and he saw something moving from behind the counter. He exchanged a quick glance with Deimos, hand nearing his hook as he stepped closer to the source of the noise.

They tensed as the person behind the counter popped their head up, only to relax when they saw a familiar face. Your eyes widened in surprise when you recognized them, and you grinned up at the two before rising to stand, dusting off your apron. "Hey, figured you two would show up. Your usual?"

"I-what?" Deimos sputtered, "We've been looking all over for you! Why the hell are you out here?!"

"Did my note not reach you?" You asked, cocking your head. "I tried to let you know that I got a new place. Hotdog cart kinda got...uh..destroyed? No, scrapped would be a better word."

Sanford gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry we weren't there to protect you. Was it the Nexus?"

You shrugged, "Nah, AAHW. Let's just say they hold a grudge." (You conveniently forgot to mention the fact that you had dismantled the cart. It was hard to make sides when blood gunked up the fryer. Plus, smashing someone's head into it happened to dent it pretty bad. The bandits you gave the scrap to didn't mind the remaining gore, though.)

"What'd you do to piss 'em off?" Deimos asked, leaning on the counter as you shuffled around, returning to the prep work you were busy with before they walked in. It was close to closing time.

"Eh, you know. Deserted and stole a bunch of money, maybe a few guns. Typical ex-agent stuff. I honestly thought 2BDamned would've told you by now, he said you'd be coming to recruit me. Aren't you supposed to get briefed on this or something?"

They looked at you in silence for a moment before exploding with questions. ("You deserted? Me too!" "You stole from the AAHW?" "Wait, are you the "supply" we were supposed to get?" (That last one made you raise a brow.))

You just blinked as they rambled on, not able to really answer anything as they talked over each other. A bit exasperated at this point, you were about to interrupt them when a slam of the door caught your attention, making them pause and whip around.

It was Hank, drenched in blood and holding someone's dismembered arm. "We've got company," he said curtly, giving you a nod of acknowledgement before heading back out. (He was a bit surprised to see you, but the AAHW's raid was more pressing.)

Sanford and Deimos nodded at each other before making the move to leave, turning back to you for a brief moment. "Stay here, we'll take care of it. Just, like, duck behind the counter or something," Dei said before rushing out. You sighed. More agents, great.

The three had crowded near the entrance to the facility, trying to stop the flood of AAHW agents from getting deeper into the facility. Deimos quickly noticed a group break away from the rest and take a detour down another hallway, and he reloaded his gun, jumping up to go chase after them. Chances are they were looking for you, and he refused to let anyone harm you again.

"Shit, I'll go get them! You hold the rest back!" He shouted, and Sanford gave him a thumbs up.

"We got it, now go!"

Deimos sprinted down the hallway, growling when he saw the enemy grunts disappear into the cafeteria. He frantically burst through the doors, raising his guns at the backs of the agents who were rushing towards the counter. Before he could fire at them, they were all mowed down in quick succession, and he dove to the side to avoid a volley of loud gunfire. He peeked around a table to see you standing triumphantly before the shredded bodies of the agents and was that a fucking minigun?!?

He watched in shock as you used the heavy weapon to bludgeon the remaining few grunts into bloody pulps, viscera covering you as you caved in their chests and faces, ignoring their attempts to shield themselves as you forced their arms away. He flinched when you finally turned to him, the cold look in your eye sent a shiver down his spine. (For a brief moment, he was reminded of Hank. Were you always this terrifying in combat?)

He let out a breath when your eyes flashed in recognition, and you relaxed from your tense posture, lowering your bloodied weapon. "Oh, hey. Don't worry, I got this place covered. I'll catch up with you all in a bit, gotta get my stuff."

"I-um, yeah. I'll go and uh, help the others," he replied smartly, scratching the back of his neck as he left. What the fuck just happened?

When he returned back to the others alone, Sanford gave him a worried look as he joined him behind some cover. "Are they alright?" Deimos just nodded reassuringly as he drew his guns again.

"Yeah...they're just fine."

Soon Hank and Sanford would get their own show from you. Held in a stalemate with the agents, both sides trading potshots from cover, unable to move forward.

A sudden piercing noise had filled the air (a fire alarm?) and when the agents that pinned them down broke their concentration to look around in confusion, that's when you attacked. The others had taken this opportunity to return fire, but noticed shots cleanly piercing through the skulls of the agents and Soldats unfortunate enough to enter through the main entrance. They glanced back in confusion to see you, wielding one of the TAC-50 rifles they'd picked up. You simply gave them that same easy-going grin, even as your arms strained from the weight and recoil of the large gun. (You really should've been laying on the ground to fire that thing.)

With you blasting through the reinforcements with pinpoint accuracy, and your friends taking care of the remaining grunts who staying in the facility, the AAHW agents were defeated in no time. (Though, Hank and Sanford couldn't stop themselves from glancing back at you every now and then. You reloaded the gun in fluid motions, smooth from previous experience, and you didn't seem to struggle that much from the gun's kickback. The agents definitely weren't well trained, so how were you so good at this!?)

When the final Soldat met its end (a bullet ripping through the middle of their eyepiece, courtesy of you), Sanford immediately turned to face you. "What the hell was that?"

"I know, what the fuck?" Deimos added from next to you, and you chuckled in amusement. The dumfounded looks on their faces were really funny.

"What?" You asked as you rested the rifle on the wall next to you, leaning down next to Hank afterward to search the bodies. "Did you think I survived this long in Nevada alone through dumb luck?"

"Well, no," came Deimos' reply. "But the agency doesn't train people like this, believe me, I would know."

You leaned back in your crouched position, looking up at them. "Back at the AAHW, I was the instructor for weapons training and stuff like that for a bit, just until they found someone to replace the guy I was filling in for. It was my job."

Sanford gave you a pointed look. "That really doesn't explain it."

You held his gaze for a moment before sighing and looking back down to the body of the agent you'd been looting. "I don't know, probably instinct or something. Got the same thing with cooking, except way better. Doesn't matter now, though, I quit..."

You all worked in a stiff silence for a bit, the two easing off as you quite obviously didn't want to discuss your past work. Once you'd finished, you rose to your feet, wiping your dusty (and somewhat bloodstained) hands on your apron.

Sanford made an offhand remark as you walked through the door with them. "They must've paid you a lot, if you were so skilled."

At that, both you and Deimos made noises of disagreement. "The agency pays just enough to survive on, but it'll leave you living paycheck to paycheck. Definitely not enough for me to risk my life fighting the SQ, or a zombified clown"- Hank's gaze snapped to you and you gave him a tired smile-"See, he gets it."

At the other's questioning looks, Hank gave a stern order. "Don't ask."

(While sitting on the bed of their truck, and holding your cap to your head to stop it from flying away, you noticed Hank looking at you. You tilted your head, and he leaned a bit closer. "Is the clown going to be a problem?" You shrugged in a noncommittal gesture.

"That depends. If Doc doesn't give me sweet and sour sauce, then yes.")

[just-jordie-things]

So Cold - Peter Parker

word count: 7291 warnings: swearing, torture summary: after the fight in Berlin, anyone who had refused to sign the accords was incarcerated.  and you and Peter had been on opposite sides of the fight. author’s note: based on this song

[ oh, you can't hear me cry, see my dreams all die / from where you're standing on your own / it's so quiet here, and I feel so cold / this house no longer feels like home ]

You should have listened to Peter when you had the chance.  Damn you for not listening.

“Hey kid?” There was a knocking on the other side of the cement wall, but (y/n) stayed sitting against it.  On top of the uncomfortable bed, her hands chained together by some kind of tech she’d never heard of before.

“Yeah?” The raspy sound in her own voice disgusted her.

“What would you be doing right now, if you weren’t in here?”

Scott Lang was practically a stranger to (y/n), although she’d fought with him side by side, and he talked to her nearly every day since being incarcerated.  But so far he’d seemed like an alright guy, besides being a war criminal.  He asked weird questions and talked to her a lot, even when she wouldn’t respond.  Maybe it was to make the time go by a little easier.

“If I wasn’t here?” (y/n) pondered aloud, letting a lazy smile fall on her lips.  “If I wasn’t getting beaten senseless… I’d be back at Stark Tower” Her eyes fell shut as she imagined it now.  “I’d be training… or making fun of Tony” Just the idea of a regular day made her smile.  “Seeing Peter…” (y/n) sighed, wanting to cry.

“Peter? Haven’t heard that name yet” Scott responded from the other side.

“Peter was… he was my best friend” She sighed.  “And I loved him”

“Ah, I see” (y/n) could hear the smile in Scott’s voice.  “I’ve gone down that same path”

“Oh yeah?” She mused head leaning against the wall.  “Is it just as difficult for adults?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call myself an adult,” Scott replied, and if her ribs didn’t hurt so bad from getting beat with a metal beton, she might have laughed.  “But yeah, it was a little bit rough”

“Was she pretty?” She asked.

“Do you care?”

“Humor me.  I’m in the worst pain of my life” She said.

Lang went on to talk about a woman named Hope that he seemed to be in love with.  The story itself was one of the weirdest things (y/n) had ever heard, but she’d take anything just to get her mind off of the bruising.

I should’ve just listened to Peter. ___

Sleeping in the cell was the far opposite of ideal.  She was lucky if she did sleep, without nightmares, or guards dragging her out to beat her.  And even when she did, the conditions were still awful.  She was certain at this point the mattress was made of all spring, no cushion.  And the only blanket she had was a scratchy wool, and provided no warmth in the freezing cell.

The pillow was… okay.  It was stained by her own blood here and there, but it was okay.

She woke up with nightmares fresh in her mind and her body sore from uncomfortable positions, just like every other morning.

“Meal time, inmate” A guard said, his baton knocking harshly on the bars of her cell.  The sound rang in her ears, but she didn’t dare complain as a tray of mysterious food was slid into her room.

Last time she complained, she didn’t eat for three days.

“If every last piece isn’t gone, you’re not getting another one for a week” He added before walking away.  (y/n) snarled behind his back, but took the tray from where it sat on the floor, bringing it to her bed to eat it.

“What is this slop?” Scott questioned from next door, certainly poking at the pile of steamed vegetables and mystery meat.

“What’s that inmate?” The guard questioned, but was only met with silence.  (y/n) figured that Scott decided eating this was better than eating nothing.  A debate she was currently having again.

With a wince she picked up the plastic spoon, forks of any kind weren’t allowed, and scooped up what she guessed was a carrot slice.

“This shit tastes like someone made it for a science fair, but then the experiment didn’t work out like it should’ve and they were humiliated for the rest of their middle school career” Scott said.  (y/n) wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or not, but she opted not to respond.

Not getting food for a week and taking a beating just didn’t seem like an option for her at the moment.  She was certain she’d die if she endured any more of their brutality.

“Don’t you think?” Lang was knocking on their shared wall, hoping for some sort of response.  “(y/n)? You still alive in there, kid?”

“(y/n)?” Clint’s voice rang from down the hall.  He didn’t typically speak much, and stayed silent whenever the guards came around, but the fear of (y/n) dying seemed to provoke a buried paternal instinct.

“Still alive” The girl groaned, shoving in another spoonful of celery and broccoli.  The relieved sighs all around the corridor of cells echoed.  Everyone, Scott, Clint, Sam, and Wanda, knew that if something happened to (y/n) while they were in here, there’d be more trouble than just the Civil War between Tony and Steve.

“Better be, kid” Sam said from a few cells down.  She smiled to herself just a little bit before finishing her meal.

She knew they were relieved as to why she was still living, she was young, practically just a kid, she didn’t deserve to die in a place like this, the reasons went on about how wrong it was that she was here. ___

“(y/n), (y/n) would you stop for two seconds and listen to me?” Peter was begging, while the girl was racing around her room and throwing things into her duffel bag.

“I’m listening” She responded, not stopping her actions.  “You have until I’m finished”

Peter sighed, but settled for it anyways, because she obviously wasn’t at a point of reasoning.  “Do you have to go?” He asked, making her pause for a moment, just to look at him, before sighing and continuing on with her frantic packing.

“Yes.  I do” She stated, finishing up and roughly zipping her bag shut.  “You know that” She said, finally stopping and staring at him.  “If I don’t, then I’m getting locked up in some facility to be used as their little lab rat-”

“(y/n) there’s other ways to keep you safe-”

“I don’t want to be safe.  I want to fight this” She responded firmly, causing Peter to frown.  She was too far gone to talk down from this.  As she stood there in front of him, it became more evident as to why he was pushing her.

(y/n) took a hesitant step backwards, her eyes widening as she looked him up and down.  His stance was nervous, and his eyes were guilty.

“No…” The word was soft, the way all heartbroken words were.  “No- you aren’t-” She stopped trying to force it when Peter hung his head.  Her arms falling limp to her sides and all she could do was stare at him.  “You aren’t on my side on this one… are you?” She asked, though she knew that answer already.

“Listen, I-”

“If these accords are put in place, I get locked up” She stated, anger rising in her voice.  “You get that, right?”

“And if they aren’t, countless others could-”

“Don’t do that! Don’t give me that bullshit Stark excuse!” She snapped.  Peter froze, she never yelled at him, not seriously.  They got along on everything, always, it’s what made their friendship so special.

“(y/n) I’m sure we could find a way to keep you and Wanda out of all this-”

“That’s unfair shit and you know it” She said, picking her duffel bag up off the bed and slinging it over her shoulder.

“(y/n) I don’t want us to…” He trailed off, staring at her helplessly.  “I don’t want to hurt you- I-I can’t hurt you”

It was silent between them as (y/n) tried to keep her eyes dry and her throat clear.  She didn’t want him to hear the tears in her voice.  When she felt that it was safe to speak, and it was time to get going, she finally spoke.

“You already have” She whispered, then readjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked past him out of the room.  “Tony’s gonna be back soon, I want out before he gets here” She muttered out her excuse. ___

A tear rolled down (y/n’s) cheek as she thought about the last thing she’d said to Peter before going into battle.  If she could go back, she would’ve taken it all back, told him she’d stay.  She wished she’d stopped for just two seconds to tell him she loved him and that she was sorry for everything.

“Would you have changed anything? Knowing you’re here now?” She called out to Scott, hoping he wasn’t sleeping.

“Yes.  Without a doubt” He sighed.  “I got a daughter.  She’s going into the first grade.  But I’m here.  I’d do anything to see her again” He seemed to imagine the idea for a few moments.  “I got a girlfriend too… sorta.  Probably not anymore”

(y/n) empathized  for Scott.  She didn’t have much before here, and here she had nothing.  But Scott Lang had everything.  He had a family and friends and a really cool job, and he lost it all.

“I’m sorry” She whispered, pressing her hand flat against their shared wall.  “I’m so sorry” Her voice cracked as she repeated her words.  

“He knows, kid” Scott assured quietly.  He knew the underlying feelings she had in the moment.  “I promise, he knows”

She didn’t say anything, mostly because she hated talking to people when she was crying, she hated the way her voice got choked up until her words were a stuttered and incomprehensible string.  She found it humiliating, and she was tired of feeling so vulnerable.

But she kept her hand against her wall as she laid there softly crying, somehow knowing that Scott was still there, silently consoling her while her memories consumed her completely.

Looking at the technologically advanced cuffs that bound her wrists it all came back again. ___

“You need to stay away from me” (y/n) warned, an entire car hovering in the air under her telekinetic hold.

“(y/n) I want you to get out of here” Peter responded, not seeming to care about her threatening vehicle.  “Seriously, there’s men who-who are going to come here and anyone who’s protesting these Accords they’ll lock up-”

“Fine then” She said, dropping the car, just a few feet behind where Peter was standing.  “Nice suit.  Looks new? An incentive maybe?” She asked rhetorically before using her own powers to lift herself into flight.

It wasn’t long before he found her in the lot again, cornering her against an airplane.

“Why can’t you leave me alone!” She asked frustratedly, her hands glowing, ready to force him back if he didn’t go on his own.

“I’m trying to protect you! I don’t want you to get locked up in some-some solitary confinement prison or something!” He replied exasperatedly.

“There’s not a prison on this planet that could keep me in it” She growled back, before physically shoving at his shoulders to get him off of her.  “Stay out of my way” She muttered.

“(y/n) please just listen, please, this is your life we’re talking about”

“I don’t trust you anymore, Peter” She stated firmly.  The words hit Peter like poison.  There was nothing else that she could say that could hurt him as much as that.  “You need to get the fuck away from me, and stay away”

Those were her last words.

She’d said nothing when special forces came in, tackling her, and restraining her in mutant-detecting cuffs that averted the use of her powers. While Peter was dragged off with the rest of Tony’s team to head back to the safety of the facility.  

He’d yelled for her, multiple times actually.  But the guard restraining her at hit her so hard she could only see him panic and scream, his words fell silent on her ears.  She just stared at him, eyes half lidded as her cuffed wrists were grabbed by another uniformed man to be dragged onto a jet.  She knew where she was going.

The last thing she saw before the door closed and the aircraft took off was Peter, trying desperately to run over to her.  She didn’t even have the energy left in her to wave, or give any sign of life.

She should have listened to him. ___

(y/n) pondered if she wanted to tell Lang the story, from start to finish, of the events that led her here.  About Peter, about life before the war.  It would pass the time, before the next meal or the next beating, she didn’t know.  But it was hard enough to think about it, actually saying the words aloud couldn’t be much help.

She decided against it.

“When we get out of here, first thing I’m doing, is taking my daughter to Burger King”

It was like he could hear her thoughts.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate a Whopper” He let out a long sigh like he was pleasured just by the thought.  “That warm feeling in my hands- wow”

“It’s nice you have hope that we’re getting out” (y/n) chuckled bitterly.  She sat up with her back to the wall, chained hands hugging her knees to her chest with the scratchy blanket around her shoulders.  She wasn’t sure what day it was, but it was getting cold.

The thought of winter coming made her wonder if she’d miss Christmas.  It wasn’t a holiday she particularly enjoyed, but it was nice to see everyone and eat together and exchange presents like everything in the world was okay.

“Come on, don’t be so melancholy for once.  If you were to get out tomorrow, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

“How many dumb questions are you going to ask me?” She responded.  “I’m not getting out.  I’m going to live out the last of my days in this hell”

“Come on, what’s the answer.  You’ve gotta have one in mind”

She rolled her eyes, because it was a dumb question, and she was tired of thinking of all the things that will never happen now, all the things she can’t do and people she can’t see.

“I’m convinced your goal is to depress me until eventually I just kill myself rather wait for one of these guards to do it” She sighed, but it was evident that she gave in and was considering answering.

“You can’t see, but I’m rolling my eyes” He responded bluntly.

“If we got out of here tomorrow…” (y/n) mused quietly, staring up at the cement ceiling as she thought about what she would do first.  “First thing I’d do is… I’d go to Peter’s… and apologize” She said quietly.  She wasn’t sure Scott even heard her, but he must have, because he hummed in response.

“What for?” He asked curiously.

“Better question is what not for,” She replied weakly.  “Last time I saw him I… I told him to stay away from me,” Her voice turned into a whimper as tears filled her eyes.  “That I-I didn’t trust him” Her bottom lip quivered, and she wrapped her arms around her shins, drawing her legs in close to her chest and setting her chin on top of her knees.

Scott, on the other side of her cell, leaned against their shared wall, setting his hand against the concrete with a frown.  Wanda Maximoff, across the corridor, could see this action as she looked into the glass.  She also frowned as she watched the girl begin to cry, while there was nothing else for anyone to do to comfort her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to tell him how sorry I am,” (y/n) admitted, eyes trained on the specialized cuffs on her wrists, disabling her mutant abilities.  “How much I wish I’d listened to him when he told me to run, to not fight”

“You were only doing what you thought was right, (y/n),” Wanda spoke up, and the girl looked out the glass to the witch.  “You fought with reason, with honor”

“But I lost him” She mumbled, briskly brushing away the tears on her cheeks with her sleeves.  Wanda shook her head gently.

“You don’t know that,” She said.  “I’m sure you haven’t, Peter cares too much about you to let you go so easy”

(y/n) leaned her head back against the concrete, shutting her eyes, not even bothering to fight her tears.  She was too weak.

Her abilities tended to keep her in good health and shape, it was kind of a perk of being a mutant.  But ever since the guards had clapped her in these cuffs, her powers of telekinesis and healing had been stripped away from her.  Leaving her to feel powerless. ___

On a particularly cold morning, as she presumed it was morning, (y/n) was awoken by a loud clang against her window.  She slowly lifted her head up from her pillow, blinking to clear her vision to see who had smashed their fist against the glass.

It had been one of the guards, ordering her to get up and hit the showers.  Twice a week she was allowed to shower, only when accompanied by guards.  Today, she didn’t feel like being watched and ridiculed.  So she laid her head back down.

“I said showers, (y/l/n), get up” The guard ordered again, but she rolled over, facing the concrete wall and tugging her scratchy blanket over her corduroy clad body.  “That’s it,” The guard muttered, and slammed open her door, storming in, all the while she stayed put in bed, knowing what was coming.

She was grabbed by her arm, and dragged right off of the cot, thrown to the floor.

Wanda and Clint, who were on the other side of the hall and could see what was happening, began to scream and bang their own fists against their glass, begging the guard to stop, expletives rolling off their tongues without second thought as they watched the girl get kicked in the gut, repeatedly.

Scott, who was now wide awake in his own cell, couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear Wanda and Clint’s hollering, and the pained whimpers from (y/n).  He, too, began to yell and plead for the official to stop.

“You shower, when we tell you!” The man declared, forcing (y/n) to her feet, and shoving her out towards the door.  Her limp body barely caught herself on her two feet before she was shoved again to keep walking down the hall.  “You eat, when we tell you,” He continued, and another shove to her back in the direction of the showers.  “And you sleep, when we tell you”

“Well when are you gonna tell me to drop dead?” She muttered, a twisted and lazy smirk on her lips as she turned towards him to cock a brow.

The blow to the side of her head knocked her to the ground, unconscious. ___

That night it was difficult to sleep.  And from the abundance of reasons this could be due to, (y/n) figured it was the throbbing in her head keeping her awake tonight.  There was bound to be a pretty bruise where it had swelled up, and she could only lay on her right side.

Of course, she couldn’t take any medication to make this pain go away, so she laid there for what felt like hours, willing her body to shut down and put her in a deep sleep.

“Hey, kid,” Lang called.  It sounded like he was right next to her, as though he was speaking straight into the wall.  “You doing okay?”

“Define… okay” She answered, groggy, and slow.  It hurt to move her jaw.

It hurt just laying there.  Her entire body ached.

“I wish I could do something,” Scott sighed.  (y/n) knew now his guilt is what made him a good hero, the way he empathized with people.  She wondered if it’s what made him a good father as well.  “You’ve gotta stop fighting back, (y/n), just once in your life, don’t fight back, you’ll get yourself killed”

She smiled sadly, a tear slipping down her cheek from the bittersweet feeling that overcame her.  As well as the pain of her lip splitting again from her smile.

“You’re a good man, Scott,” She told him.  “Your daughter and friends are lucky to have you in their lives,” It sounded too much like goodbye for his liking, but she continued on before he could speak up in protest.  “I was lucky to fight by your side, and be imprisoned by your side-”

“(y/n)-”

“I don’t think I’m going to live through the night, Scott,” She told him.  Her voice was sincere, and final.  “I believe I’ve broken a rib if not two, and the dizziness is making me sick.  Without my ability to heal…” Her voice trailed off as another tear slipped down her cheek.

It wasn’t death she feared, she embraced it.  The pain was so unbearable, she craved the sweet relief of nothingness.

She pressed her palm against the wall, laying her hand flat against the cool concrete.

“It’s okay,” She murmured, eyes slipping shut as sleep finally overcame her.  “I wasn’t meant to live like this, but I’ve done all I could to do what’s right”

“I’m sorry kid, I-I’m so sorry” It was clear that Scott was crying, and she could almost feel him set his hand against the wall as well.  

“It’s okay” She whispered again.

“Go to sleep, (y/n),” Scott’s voice was shaky, like he had to force the words out.  “Sweet dreams, I’ll be here in the morning if you need someone to talk to”

He was certain she wouldn’t hear from her in the morning.

“Goodnight, Scott” (y/n) mumbled weakly, tiredly.  Accepting what was going to come to take her in her sleep.

“Goodnight, peanut” The nickname came naturally as all he could think of was his own daughter back home.  (y/n) had been like family, and now he was going to lose her.

(y/n) finally fell asleep, her heart slows to a soft, dull beat in her chest, as the pounding in her head faded, and the ache in her bones became numb. ___

“Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful?” Peter’s voice was sweet like honey as he spoke, and (y/n) looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table in the Avengers Compound.

She grinned at him, halting her typing on her laptop and setting her chin in her hand as she looked at him.

“I don’t believe you have, go on,” She spoke teasingly, a tone she usually had whenever addressing him.  Peter Parker was easy to tease.  “What brought you to this conclusion?”

“I mean you’re pretty, everyone knows that,” He went on to explain, actually able to make her blush at the simple comment.  “In gowns and your little superhero outfits-”

“Superhero outfits?” She repeated, chuckling a bit as he mentioned the attire she wore when on a mission.  Typically it was black leather pants, and a green bodice that matched the color of her eyes when she used her powers.

“But you’re still pretty right now” Peter finished.

(y/n) looked down at the leggings and button up flannel she was wearing, a typical look she had when she was just lounging for the day, working from home.

“You don’t like my bum look?” She asked him, feigning hurt, but Peter was quick to shake his head.

“No, what I’m saying is you’re beautiful all the time.  Some girls are only beautiful when they put the effort into it.  You do it… effortlessly”

A soft smile tugged on her lips at Peter’s sweet compliment.  It was obvious that he hadn’t meant for it to sound as smooth as he did, he was only making an observation, but she took his words to heart.

Getting up, she shut her laptop and walked over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before patting it.

“You’re a sweetheart, Peter Parker” She told him before leaving the room.

Peter had stood in the kitchen baffled.  His mind completely blanked on what he could’ve said that had gotten (y/n) (y/l/n) herself, his best friend, and long time crush, to kiss him right on the face. ___

Loud.

Bright.

(y/n) moaned, a numb arm raising up to fall over her eyes, blocking the bright light that was shining above her.  Her muscles felt like they were covered in pins and needles, it didn’t hurt, but it was incredibly uncomfortable-

Wait.

(y/n) blinked, holding her shaking arm above her and staring in wonder.

I’m alive?

She blinked again, staring upwards, finding the sky, rather than the concrete ceiling she had been staring at for weeks on end to get to sleep.  The bright, blue, white sky.

And the noise, her ears were ringing from all the noise, yelling, screaming, commotion.

“(y/n)!”

She wanted to push herself to sit up on her cot, wanting to know what was going on.  Everything was processing in slow motion it seemed, her mind dizzy and her consciousness already fading.  

“(y/n)!”

The pain in her body forced her to stay put, laying in bed.  Her eyelids fell heavily shut, and she just wanted to get some more rest.  A few minutes longer of sleep was all she would need.

“(y/n)!”

Gentle hands were placed on her shoulders, and her eyes opened, barely, to see a familiar figure towering over her.

Peter Parker was worriedly staring at her, looking over her body littered with blood and bruises.

Her lip was cut, and there was a trail of dried blood from her nose to her cheek, that must have happened overnight.  Her breathing was slow, and irregular, and there was a dark purple streak across her left cheekbone, leading right up under her hair and above her ear.

“(y/n),” He breathed out, pulling the mask of his head to look her in the eyes.  One of his hands reaching up to brush over her cheek.  “What’s happened to you?”

She didn’t say anything, she wasn’t sure she could say anything, but she was too focused on staring at him.

Peter Parker was going to be the last thing she laid eyes on, and a small and pained smile graced her lips at the thought.

“Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful?” Her voice was a breath, not even, but Peter heard her clearly.  His brows drew together, and he realized right there that he was about to lose her if he didn’t do something.

“I need you to hold on for a few more minutes, (y/n), okay?” He said, releasing her cheek and shoulder to try and figure out the cuffs on her wrists.  “Just be strong for me, alright? Can you do that?”

She was silent as he yanked and fiddled with the restraints, the more times he attempted to get them off her, the more desperate he became.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” (y/n) rasped out, eyes blinking slowly before she shut them again.  “I love you, you’re my best friend”

“(y/n) just- just hold on a minute okay? Just give me a minute, I’m gonna get these off, you’re- you’re gonna be fine I swear-”

“Let me help” Wanda Maximoff walked into the room, (y/n) wasn’t sure how, since her door was locked by a special security code.  She could faintly see a stream of red, before suddenly, the ache of the metal on her wrists was gone, and the cuffs clattered to the floor.

A sharp gasp left her lips as her eyes shot open, emerald green, and she could feel her own bones adjusting themselves to their proper places.  It was like she’d been given the kiss of life, getting her powers back, her body healing accordingly.

She glanced at Peter, and in seconds was off the bed, levitating to the shattered glass that was once her window, and quickly down the hall to where she knew she had to go first.

The guard that had tortured her from day one had Scott Lang against the wall, gun in hand, aimed towards the man.

“You,” She called, a green haze appearing around her hands as her fingers curled, powers boiling inside her, begging to be used for the first time in months.  “I’m gonna rip your spine out, one vertebrae at a time” The threat came out in a growl, and for a moment, the guard looked scared.  But he aimed his weapon towards her, cocking it before pulling the trigger.

(y/n) simply held a hand up, stopping all bullets in their tracks in the air, and dropping them to the ground.  Using her abilities she took hold of the gun, and thrust it behind her.  She maneuvered her hands and took hold of his entire body, forcing him to his knees on the ground, lip twitching as he cried out in pain, likely from his spine snapping as she pushed harder, his knees to the ground, back forced down to it as well.

Scott was pushing himself as far against the wall as he could as this all happened right before him.  He knew of (y/n’s) abilities and knew that she was ruthless on the battlefield, but this… this was bloodlust.

“Beg,” She muttered as she hovered over the man in her control.  “Beg!” She spat out.

“N-n-no”

“You live, when I tell you to,” She mocked dangerously.  “Or you die, pathetically, as you lived, when I tell you to,” She growled.  “Now, beg”

“Please,” He whimpered.  “Please, please I’ll never- I’ll never hurt anyone again, I-I promise if you spare my life I’ll-I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” (y/n) grunted.

“I’ll be forever in your debt”

“You already are” She claimed, and with a smirk was able to fling his body against the wall, effectively knocking him out.  She lowered herself to be standing on the ground, rubbing her hands together as though dusting them off.

“Shit, kid, did you kill him?” Scott asked, unable to look away from the man she’d just hurled, and his misshapen body from the broken bones.

“No, just knocked him out a little.  He’ll heal,” She assured, but smiled mischievously, “If anyone finds him in time”

Without further ado, Scott came over and hugged her tightly, squeezing her shoulders.

“You really had me going there for a few minutes,” He said as she hugged him back.  “You’re lucky Captain America came to save all our asses”

“Steve?” You questioned pulling out of the hug.  As if on command, she turned to see her saviors.  Steve, Sam, Peter, and Natasha.  She blinked, mouth falling open in surprise.

“Couldn’t leave you locked up in prison, you’re only seventeen, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you” Steve spoke, and a grin broke out across (y/n’s) face.

“You can save your prison time for later,” Natasha chimed in, jogging forward to hug (y/n), taking her in her arms and holding her securely, worried she’d lose her again.  “For now you can just hug me like you mean it and I’ll tell you how much I missed my partner”

(y/n) smiled happily up at her as they parted, and Natasha took her face in her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to hug Clint as well.

“So you came to my rescue?” (y/n) asked as she made her way over to Peter, smiling teasingly before reaching out to embrace him as well.  She buried her face in his chest, blinking away the relieved tears in her eyes as his arms wound around her.

“Took a while, but I made it,” Peter said, setting his chin on top of her head and prolonging their hug.  “I’m so sorry, (y/n/n), about everything”

“I’m sorry too” She whispered back.

When they parted, all she wanted to do was seize forward and kiss him.  But they were surrounded by their friends, and it was neither the time or place to do so.

“Let’s get out of here and get you out of those prison clothes” Steve said, guiding everyone back to the quinjet.

(y/n’s) only change in clothes was her uniform, an old one in fact, since her recently worn one was confiscated when she was imprisoned.

So she walked around the corner in a pair of black faux leather leggings, black long sleeved top, and tacky emerald green jacket to match her powers.  When she took a seat next to Peter, she gave him a bored look.

“I feel like a cosplayer”

He just chuckled, and held her hand the entire ride home. ___

Her shower lasted a full hour.  Scrubbing away the blood and bad memories took longer than expected.

Her (y/h/c) hair was still wet as she walked out of her room at the Avengers Compound.  It was quite late, and most of the building was dark.  Except for the one room where the lights were always on.

Stark’s lab.

She didn’t have to knock, her presence was made known when she walked through the open door, while Tony was working at his desk, hunched over a tablet and a crease of anxiety between his brows.  But when she walked in, he looked up.

A gasp of surprise and relief escaped his lips, as he hurried up from his desk and strode over to the girl.  She met him halfway and practically fell into his open arms, hugging him tightly.

Tony let out a shaky sigh as he clutched the smaller girl close, his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair.  Guilt washed over him, making his stomach churn and his eyes teared up as he pulled back to look at her, hands on either side of her head.

“You’re okay?” He asked quietly, even though no one else was in the room.  (y/n) nodded, her movements sporadic at her hands grasped his wrists.  “You’re home, you’re alright” The man sighed again as he hugged her once more.

“I’m alright” She repeated, even though it was more or less a lie.  She was home, he was right, that’s what mattered.

“I’m so sorry, kid”

“Don’t apologize, none of it was your fault”

Stark took it upon himself to help take care of the girl, raise her.  Many of the Avengers did.  She’d joined the team so young, everyone felt it was partially their responsibility to raise her, teach her right from wrong, as well as a few other lessons like sword fighting and kickboxing.

“Everything that happened,” (y/n) continued.  “It was all on me, it was my choice.  You guys- Peter- you warned me,” She told him, feeling her throat close up as tears welled in her eyes.  “I wouldn’t listen-”

“No, no kid don’t do that to yourself,” Tony rubbed her back soothingly.  “It was nobody’s fault, well, actually, we were all in the wrong, but don’t put that weight on your shoulders.  You’re home now”

“I’m home now” She repeated softly, and finally pulled away from Tony, wiping at her eyes.  “Can’t believe I missed you”

He scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I could say the same for you kiddo” He teased right back.  (y/n) would usually roll her eyes, but tonight, she smiled.

“Now go to bed young man, it’s late” She said, heading back out of the lab.

“Five more minutes!” He called just as she had left, making her laugh quietly as she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed.

Of course, standing at the counter, was Peter Parker, cooking on the stovetop.

He must not have heard her come in, or if he had, was too focused on stirring whatever was in the pot to turn and see who it was.

“What are you doing up so late?” She asked quietly, trying not to disturb him, but the boy jumped as he turned to see her.

“(y/n)!” He announced, like he was surprised it was her.  She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on her lips from his panic.  

God, she’d missed him.

“That’s my name,” She teased.  “What’re you making?” She peeked over his shoulder to see a pot of ramen noodles, and a laugh escaped her lips at the simple meal.  “Why are you making noodles in the middle of the night?”

“I- well I couldn’t sleep and I was kinda hungry anyways” He stammered out, and the girl nodded.  Bad sleep was a common side effect of being a superhero.

“Care for some company while you cook?” She asked, and he nodded as she sat at the breakfast bar behind him.  “So, why can’t you sleep?”

“Oh, I’ve barely slept since the uh… since the thing with the Accords went down” He admitted, voice trailing off into a mumble towards the end.

“You haven’t?” (y/n) asked, setting her head in her hand.

“Of course not,” Peter sighed.  “It’s been hell”

“Yeah,” She agreed softly.  Peter turned around and left the pot so he could face her.  “It has”

“I didn’t mean that- I mean obviously you went through a lot it’s just I- I missed you, a lot”

(y/n) chuckled quietly at his rambling, and shook her head dismissively.

“It’s alright, I know what you mean,” She murmured.  “I missed you too” Her voice was sad, eyes tearing up as she watched him turn around, and drain the water from the pot, putting the ramen in a separate bowl.

“Hey do you want any because I probably won’t eat all of this-” Peter turned around to see (y/n) trying not to cry.  “(y/n), hey,” He left the bowl on the counter and circled around the island to stand in front of her, “What’s wrong?”

When he reached his hands out to her, she took them and pulled his arms to wrap around herself, then hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry, Peter,” She cried, and he began to rub her back comfortingly, holding her tighter.  “I didn’t mean all those things I said, in Germany-” She hiccuped, and took in a few shaky breaths.  “I-I trust you, I do, I trust you”

“Sweetheart I know,” He chuckled sadly and pulled her away from him, taking her face in his hands and brushing away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.  “You haven’t got to apologize, it’s fine, desperate times, you know?”

She shook her head, still crying.

“No, Pete, I-”

“Hey, shh,” Peter cooed, “It’s alright, it’s okay, (y/n),” He leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.  “It’s okay” He repeated kissed the crown of her head again.

“It doesn’t feel okay I’m never going to feel okay,” She whimpered, closing her eyes, but the tears kept on streaming down her cheeks.  “I-I just feel- I feel like I’m still there”

(y/n’s) arms held tight around his middle, and Peter could see she was shaking slightly.

“You’re not, hey, look at me,” He waited until she opened her eyes to continue.  “You’re here, you’re here with me, and you’re never going back there again, alright? I promise,” She sniffled and gave him a small nod.  “I’m never gonna let them take you away from me again, okay?” He said in a softer voice.

(y/n) nodded again, looking him in the eyes.  He looked so serious, so protective.  It made her heart swell with love for the boy.

“Okay” She mumbled back.  Peter gave her a sad smile, wiping away her tears again.  (y/n) glanced down to his lips as he repeated the action a few times.

“It might take a little bit,” He told her softly.  “But some day you’ll feel like yourself again, you’ll feel comfortable in your own home again”

She looked back up this eyes, a pitiful smile on her face.

“I love you, Peter Parker” She said softly, almost inaudibly.

He smiled as he pushed her hair behind her ear.

“I love you too” He whispered back.  She smiled back at him no longer crying.

She wasn’t sure who leaned first, but they’d closed the distance between them.

Peter’s lips were soft, and warm.  The kiss was salty from her crying, but it didn’t matter.  One of his hands carded into her hair, palming the back of her head.  She sighed in relief and adoration.

When they parted, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his neck.

Peter held her tighter, running his fingers through her hair comfortingly.

“Come on, you should go to bed,” Peter dropped his hands, taking her legs and lifting them to wrap around his waist.  “Hold on” He told her, and she tightened her grasp as he picked her up and walked them out of the kitchen.

“What about your noodles?”

“They’re just noodles (y/n/n),” He said with a chuckle.  She nuzzled into his neck, feeling sleepy in his hold.  “Don’t fall asleep yet, I need you to put in the code to your room”

“8-27-00” She mumbled into his neck.

Peter grinned to himself, and kissed her temple as they got into the elevator.

That was his birthday.

When he got her into her room, she wouldn’t let go as he tried to set her in bed.  Her legs wrapped tighter around him and she refused to release.

“Come on sweetheart, get in bed, I’ll tuck you in,” She sighed, and let go, but her hands reached for his, tugging him over a bit.  “You alright?” Peter giggled.

“Will you stay here with me?” She asked, and Peter let go of her hands to pull the covers over her.  “Please?”

“Okay” Peter answered, grinning ear to ear, and crawled in next to her.

They got settled in and comfortable, (y/n) lying against his side, head against his shoulder, arm thrown over his stomach.

For the first time in months, she felt like she could fall right asleep.  She hummed in relief.

“When I couldn’t sleep at the… well, prison…” She trailed off for a moment.  “Scott Lang and I would talk about all the things we’d do when we’d get out”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, turning his head to look at her, but her eyes were shut.

“Mhm,” She hummed.  “He always wanted to take his daughter out for ice cream, or to the park, Burger King,” She smiled to herself.  “And I always… well I always wanted to come back to you, explain myself”

She opened her eyes to see him already looking at her, smiling softly.

“What else?” He asked curiously, running his fingers along her jaw lovingly.

“Fall asleep in your arms” She murmured, snuggling in against him.

Peter kissed her forehead, then her nose.

“I love you, pretty girl,” He murmured.  “Sleep well”

“I love you too” She mumbled against his shoulder.

Peter had been right, she would soon feel at home again.  Even just in his arms.

___

taglist: @writings-and-stuff @rofromtheashes @tomshufflepuff@steve-avengers-rogers @vibhati123 @dark-night-sky-99

xoxo ~ jordie

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

Kirio making sure a certain shark espada's fraccion get unable to move stuffed when the *spoiler* comes to talk about peace with the soul society. /Sorry my head moves faster than my fingers sometimes./

(No worries! Thanks for resending the ask. I quite enjoy this idea.

Thanks to Harribel's rule and the help of Nel and Roka acting as liaisons between the soul society and human world respectively Hueco Mundo has finally reached some semblance of peace. The arrancar won't attack the human world or meddle in the affairs of soul reapers and the soul society allows them to devour rogue Hollows and the humans provide them with technology and food. (Roka mostly handles the tech and food part)

Obviously not all Hollows and arrancar agree with this deal and formed their own factions. Harribel's tres bestias and newly formed espada keep them from posing and major threat to the peace treaty and the Calavera have been repurposed as security guards for the new "kingdom".

Though there was the first few months after the Quincy invasion where Hueco Mundo was in utter chaos. Many arrancar where experimented on or willing joined the Quincy not to mention the countless purged. Someone had to help strengthen the new kingdom's forces or a second invasion could likely wipe them out entirely. That's where Kirio came in. During one of the many emergency meetings held at Harribel's palace Kirio accompanied the queen to her chambers and was given the privilege of whiping her fallen tres bestias into fighting shape after a certain jailer wounded them. A quick soak in a portable hotspring borrowed from Tenjiro had their injuries healed enough for Kirio to take over.

Mila Rose, Cyan and Apacci where in critical condition with Apacci especially suffering a major blow to the chest and throat. But now that they were good enough to "train" kirio had free reign to let them stuff their faces!

Luckily the king of grain was here to help!

"EAT UP LADIES! Your queen has given me permission to oversee your recovery. You three will be better than new by the time you finish my full course meal!" Kirio laughed having poured her entire spiritual energy into a colossal sized meal slimming her down to a small though still chunky form.

"Oi! You old boar! We're still wounded! There's no way we can eat all that!" Apacci argued though was stopped by Kirio waving her spoon causing three massive pipes to launch themselves at the three arrancar embedding themselves into their mouths.

"I thought you would say that! That's why I brought this from my palace. A super sized feeding machine! You piglets won't have to lift a finger or hoof until you're turned into proper sized hogs ready for battle!" Kirio laughed and started up the machine. The thick metal pipes began pumping while a set of mechanical arms began stuffing the feast down a large funnel. Slowly but surely the mouthfuls of food reached their mouths and the three wounded soldiers got a taste of Kirio's heavenly and strength increasing cooking. "Eat it all up! There's plenty to go around." She smiled grabbing a plate for herself and taking a seat to watch the show.

"Ma-man i feel so full already! There's no way I can eat all this!" Apacci groaned as her mouth and stomach were pumped full of greasy slop. "But no matter how much I feel full... my stomach won't stop asking for more!" She said suckling down a line of sausages and lard, the mixture pushing her stomach to the limits. Rapid digestion was part of the process and soon fat began clinging to every inch of the already obese woman's frame. Hands, legs, feet, face. Nothing was free from the fattening affects of the cooking. Her belly rumbled loudly begging for more food. And the strange thing was... Appaci was starting to want more herself!

"This power... I'll be able to fight again..." Franceska smirked as she felt power fill her body, her lost strength returning to her even if it was buried beneath multiple tons of flab and lard. The lion themed arrancar roared in excitement along with her gut! She could feel the foodworking, she wouldn't fail her majesty again! Her chins doubled and belly rolls tripled, ass expanded forming her own beanbag chair beneath her body while her abs faded and became a roll of jiggly flabs proudly displayed infront of her massive room filling stomach. "BWOOOOOOOOORP!" She belched not just shaking the room but her comrades as well.

"BwoURRRP-BWAAAAAARRRRRRP!" Cyan and Apacci joined the chorus of belched each od their rumbling swollen guts sounding out like a muffled fog horn from around their feeding tubes. All three were passed immobility at this point. Arms and legs sunken in their own flab, they could barely see what was infront of them passed their own swollen cheeks and breasts.

"Oh my look how big you've all grown!" Kirio cheered as she toyed and pinched the three women's swollen faces and jiggled their rotund bellies. The pink haired soul reaper was proud of their progress but an evil glint in her eyes made the three stop dead in their tracks.

"Now that the first course is done let's have dessert!" Kirio chuckled laughing as she wheeled a humongous cake bigger than the three of them combined.

"You best prepare yourselves, this is just the warm up."

[rocksandrobots]

Phantoms of the Past: Ch. 5 - Best friends, Boyfriends, and Barons Part 1

"Hey Miss Itamae! Ready for a whole new school year? Hee...hee...eeeh.... yeah, fine." Hiro gave up trying to make small talk with the lunch lady as she unceremoniously slopped meatloaf onto his plate.

Today was the first day of the fall semester and the start of Hiro's second year at SFIT.  It felt odd to him, to look back and realize just how much time had passed; how much things had changed during the previous year.

A year ago, today, he had been attending Tadashi's funeral and now he was going about his life as if everything was normal. Well, almost normal. He was also moonlighting as a superhero, adopting an out of time teenager as his new big brother, and befriending deadly robots.

Life was weird.

Of course it wasn't as if he could ignore his loss completely. He had noticed the flowers and cards placed at the foot of Tadashi's memorial over by the exhibition hall. People still remembered that his brother had died a hero. Folks that he didn't even know had left their condolences today, though most of the gifts were from Tadashi's teachers and friends.

Hiro had particularly noticed a painting Honey Lemon had left, of her, Tadashi, and the rest of their friends. He also spotted Gogo sitting out there early that morning, lighting a candle in his brother's memory. He had given her her space, choosing not to interrupt. Gogo and Tadashi had been especially close.

Hiro remembered how excited his brother had been when Gogo finally agreed to go out with him. Tadashi had hurried about their bedroom, a couple of days before the fire, fretting over where to take her on their first date. A date that they had never gotten to go on. At the time Hiro had teased him relentlessly, never passing up the chance to deflate his brother's ego. Now it was just another bittersweet memory to look back on.

Fred abruptly snapped him out of his mournful reflection. "Steve." was all he said as he grabbed Hiro by the shoulders.

"Steve? Uh, my name is Hiro, remember Fred?"

"No, no, no, Steve was the name of the ninja robot that Trina found. She said he was held in a warehouse downtown, along with all the other ninjas. Don't you see, that's our big break! We find this warehouse and then we can track down the mysterious bosu!"

Hiro wearily placed his tray down on the table and took a seat next to Wasabi.

"Fred, it's the first day of school. Can't this wait for later?"

"But-"

"Hiro's right Fred," Wasabi interrupted, "Just because you have all the time in the world to play superhero doesn't mean that we do. We still got our own lives to take care of."

Fred looked hurt at that. "I'm not playing! This is important work. We have a city to protect and this crime boss is just going to keep coming after us if we don't figure out how to stop them."  

Wasabi rolled his eyes. "Then you just go on and do that. In the meantime the rest of us have class to attend. I'm heading early to set up for my first lab."

"But labs won't open for like another hour." Hiro pointed out, confused. "They're still cleaning up from the robot attacks last week."

"Ah, he just wants to get there early so that he can see his boyfriend again." Fred complained.

"Sam's not my boyfriend. He's just a colleague, and at least I'm doing something other than obsess over superheroing." And with that Wasabi stormed off, while Fred slouched into the cafeteria chair with a huff.

"Listen, Fred, why don't you go on patrol with Minimax for a while. I'll help you track down this warehouse after school is over with." Hiro said.

"Okay," Fred reluctantly agreed, "but I'm not 'obsessing'."

"I know Fred, but the rest of us also have school to worry about. We just don't have the same amount of free time as you do."

"I know." Fred sighed before walking off.

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

"Sorry Hiro, but we're kind of busy right now." Honey Lemon regretfully informed her friends.

Fred and Hiro had met up after school as promised. Wasabi had declined to join them on their quest and so they had decided to recruit the girls instead. Though this also seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

"Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something." Gogo finished as she leaned back in a reclining chair and placed two cucumber slices over her eyes.

They had found the girls at a spa. Honey Lemon sat next to Gogo with curlers in her hair, and they apparently weren't the only ones out having a beauty day.

"Can't you see we're having some girl time?" Karmi asked, annoyed, as she examined her nails.

"Yeah, Hiro, go take your weird superhero hobby elsewhere?" Megan added.

"It's not weird!" Fred insisted.

"If this is supposed to be a girls only event, then why is he here?" Hiro said, pointing to Varian, who sat next to Megan.

"Uh, getting a manicure obviously." Varian rolled his eyes and then leaned over to show Carol, who was beside him, two bottles of nail polish. "Do you think I should go with the midnight blue or just stick with black?"

"Hmmm... I think either would be nice," she replied.

"Ooooh, have you tried the seaweed wrap they have here? It's great." Fred chimed in.

Hiro rolled his eyes, "Okay, so what are you two doing after this? Could you take up patrol tonight?"

"Nope." Gogo said.

"I promised my brother Carlos that I would help him move into his new dorm room. He starts at UCLA this week and Gogo's offered to drive me there. We won't be back till tomorrow morning." Honey Lemon explained.

"Okay, well, we'll just-"

"Alright, I'm ready." A voice called out, interrupting him.

Trina walked out from behind a door at the back of the spa. Her bulky gigantic metal body was gone and in its place was the frame of a young woman, dressed in a t-shirt, pants, and a cropped jacket. She looked very much the same as the day Hiro had first met her, at the bot fights. Only this time her hair had been cut and styled into a short mohawk and dyed a light purple.

"What do you guys think?" She asked as she twirled around.

Everyone shouted encouragements to her, and Varian cheekily whistled.

"You look nice, Trina." Hiro complimented.

Trina snorted and rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Hiro." She said, leaving the teenage genius confused by what he had said wrong.

Ignoring him, Trina walked over to the rest of the girls, "Thanks for the clothes... and for everything else." She sheepishly added.

"Hey, no problem." Megan replied. "They look good on you."

"Yeah, and if you need anything else just ask." Karmi added.

"Not to mention it's always fun to have a spa day," Carol piped in. "This was a good idea Varian, thanks for inviting me along."

"Sure thing. When Trina said she wanted help with finding a new wardrobe, I figured all of you would like to go shopping too.... and also y'all know more about clothes than I do."

"Hey, Trina," Fred interjected, "that warehouse where you foun- I mean, met 'Steve', do you happen to remember where it was located?"

Trina gave Fred a frown.

"Oooh, who's Steve?" Karmi asked, happy to gossip, "Is that your boyfriend Trina?"

"No." She said, "The place you're looking for is over in Good Luck Alley, next to Louie's."

"It must've been a bad breakup." Karmi whispered into Honey Lemon's ear, she wasn't very good at keeping her voice down.

"Yeah… he kind of... broke alright." Honey Lemon nervously added, unsure what to say.

"Uh, yeah, well thanks for the tip Trina. We'll be going now, bye." Hiro said as he hurried Fred out the door. He had had enough of awkward conversations and makeovers.

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

"Fred, wouldn't it be better if we brought our robots along at least?" Hiro whispered.

"You want to sneak around an abandoned warehouse with those two?" Fred whispered back, "I love him, but Minimax doesn't know how to be quiet, like at all."

Hiro sighed, Fred had a point. Baymax also wasn't the best at stealth missions. Hiro slid into the alleyway and peered through a dirty window. He couldn't shake the sense of deja vu as he remembered how he and the robotic nurse had tracked down his missing microbots a year ago at a similar warehouse. They had both been nearly killed by Callaghan when the villain had caught them snooping around. He would prefer to avoid such a scenario again.

"It doesn't look like anyone is here." He said.

"See any ninja robots?" Fred asked as he also pushed by to get a look, pressing his nose against the glass.

"No… Fred, this may be a dead end. Trina already raided the place and no doubt this Bosu would have abandoned the hideout if it was compromised."

Fred pouted, "Maybe… Buuuut, we could always man a stake-out and find out for sure!"

"Fred, I have homework to do. Maybe some oth-"

"Oh please! Just for an hour, or two? Please, please, please? Pretty please? I'll do your homework for you."

"I don't want you doing my homework."

"Okay, chores then; I'll wash Varian's dirty socks and underwear for a… a week… no, a month! Come on, I know how much you hate doing laundry."

Hiro sighed and watched his friend crawl on his knees and beg. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yeeeesss."

"Okay, and no, you don't have to do the laundry either."

Hiro turned to walk out of the alley and Fred got up and followed him.

"That's good, cause I don't actually know how to wash clothes. Usually, Heathcliff does all the laundry. Last time I tried to, I just flooded the washroom."

"Do you have any survival skills? Like at all?"

"Nope. Unless it's kicking bad guys' butts! Ooh, hey, we can host the stake-out at Louie's across the street. I'm starved."

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

Hiro and Fred took up a window booth inside the restaurant. The establishment had recovered from the police raid from a few months back and was now serving food as usual; though Hiro had already spotted the advertisement for the next upcoming 'bot fight.

A couple of hours past and they had both eaten their meals, plus dessert, along with Fred going back for seconds. Now they were both nursing a couple of cups of coffee, though Hiro's was going cold; it wasn't great coffee.

"Fred…"

"Yeah."

"It's been three hours now."

"I know."

"No one's showed up."

"Not yet."

"Look it's been… 'fun', but I'm going home now."

Hiro got up to leave but Fred grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Oh but… uhh… we haven't even tried the uh… hot dog sushi special. I hear it's really good."

Hiro leaned his head back slowly and closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't want to snap at Fred, really he didn't, but he was quickly losing his patience.

"Fred… no one is coming. Let's just call it a night and try again some other time. Okay." And with that he yanked his hand away and began to walk off.

Fred didn't follow. Instead he sat in the booth, his eyes downcast, staring blankly at nothing. It wasn't his usual pout either. It was something else. Some deeper sadness that few saw from the usually optimistic teen.

Hiro began to worry. He walked back, and stood there waiting for Fred to jump back up all excited again for his return, only he didn't.

"Fred, what's wrong?"

Fred sighed but couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Look, I know that this superhero business is important to you, so much so that you'll probably wind up making a career out of it, which is great, but the rest of us are not going to be doing this for the rest of our lives. We also have to keep up with our studies, chores, our jobs, and what little shred of a social life we have."

"That's not it… I mean yeah, it's a part of it, but that's not why I asked you to come along."

Fred finally looked Hiro in the eye and tears threatened to spill.

"I just miss my best friend, okay."

Hiro looked at him confused.

"I didn't want to say anything, cause… cause he's your brother and I didn't think you'd want to be reminded about him being gone any more than you already have… but today has just been really hard… remembering what happened… I just thought getting out and doing something fun, getting both our minds off everything, might be better than just… just being alone. You know? Especially today."

Fred didn't even have to say Tadashi's name for Hiro to know who he was talking about.

Hiro sighed and slumped back down into the booth.

"I'm sorry…. I… I guess I just… I don't know. I didn't think...."

"No… no, don't. Of course you didn't think. I mean who wants to be reminded of that. The whole idea was to not think about it. And I just ruined it all by bringing it up. Gah…. I'm so sorry."

Fred put his arms over his head and brought his knees up to his chest as if trying to make himself as physically small as he felt. Hiro just had to laugh at the sight in spite of himself.

"It's okay Fred. You're not going to upset me just by talking about Tadashi."

Fred peaked his head out from between his arms. "I'm not?"

"No. I mean he was your friend too."

"My best friend! Man, Tadashi and I, we got up to all sorts of trouble. He was always down for anything. I mean, did he tell you about the time we crashed my cousin's bar mitzvah? As in, we literally crashed. He drove the sport's car into the buffet table by mistake… We couldn't find the parking and then there was this wet patch in the parking lot and we skidded… Oh and then there was the time Mole dared us to a drag race using scooters and Tadshi had the idea to attach rockets to mine and I went flying.. I tell ya, man, Mole wouldn't live it down for a whole week after. He kept demanding a rematch, but I mean it was fair. He was using his butler to ride for him in his place."

Hiro could barely contain his laughter, "Wait… wait… you and Tadashi did all this?"

"Yeah."

"Why have I never heard of any of this before?"

"I don't know, but he's the whole reason why I got the mascot job in the first place. I knew I could never get into the school myself, but I thought we could hang out together more if I went. He's also the one that introduced me to everybody else."

"Then how did you two meet?"

"Oh at the grocery store."

Fred said this as if it was the most obvious of explanations but Hiro looked as confused as ever. So Fred continued on.

"He was there getting chewing gum and I was buying a shopping cart. Like an actual shopping cart."

"Why?"

"Yeah that's what he asked too. So I told him, 'I'm going to ride down Dead Man's Hill in one.' And he said, 'Dude, that's so rad. You're totally going to die.' And I said, 'Yeah, I know. You wanna join?' And he did. We rode all the way down from the top of Lumbar Street to the docks… and landed right in the bay. It was awesome! We screamed our heads off the whole time. It was so awesome, in fact, that we walked back to the store and bought another cart just to do it again. That was back when we were both still in high school, and we've been best buds ever since. You know… until…"

Hiro looked at Fred sadly. There so much about his brother that hadn't known about, hadn't even thought to ask. What else had Tadashi not shared with him? Probably a lot, I mean why tell your kid brother about your social life? And there's no way that he'd have brought those crazy stunts up around Aunt Cass.

"I never knew any of that… Those are some really cool stories. Thanks for sharing them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you know, you don't have to drag me on some superheroing mission just to hang out and talk."

Fred looked guilty at that.

"I… I know… but it's like what you and Wasabi have been saying. Everyone else has something… something to motivate them, and y'all all do all these really cool things and I'm… I'm just me. I don't really have anything but superheroing. Unless you just need someone to make a mess."

"That's not true. Fred, you're great at a lot of things. You could go to school or get a job, if you wanted to. I just thought superheroing was all you wanted."

"Hiro, I can't even do laundry without messing up. I mean all you do is throw the clothes into a machine and push a button, and yet somehow I managed to screw even that up. All I know is comic books, and superheroing, and I'm not even the best at that! What would I even go to college for? I can't… I'm not a genius. I'm not a businessman. I'm not an accountant, or an artist, or an athlete. I'm not anything. I've no talent. I'm not even good at being rich. I've never fit in with the socialite crowd."

"Fred."

"Yeah?"

"You're good at being a friend, and if I have to sit here list off everything else you're good at then we'd be here for another three hours or more. So how about we head home and tomorrow I'll show you how to work a washing machine, and you can teach me how a stake-out is supposed to really go cause we're not getting anywhere here."

"Or are we?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred was no longer looking at Hiro but past him. He pointed to the window behind Hiro, and Hiro turned around to see for himself.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in an old fashioned military outfit, complete with a monocle, was entering the warehouse. He had a giant mechanical arm and a steam boiler strapped to his back.

"Baron Von Steamer."

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

Fred and Hiro found themselves standing in the alley peering through the warehouse's dirty windows for a second time that day. They saw Baron Von Steamer stomping around inside. He seemed irritated as he grumbled to himself and knocked boxes out of the way, as if searching for something.

"What's he doing?" Fred loudly whispered.

Just then Steamer found what he was looking for, a tea cup. He poured himself a cup out of a teapot he had placed on an old fashioned stove that was hidden towards the back and then sat down on top of a crate to sip his drink.

"It must be 'tea time' for him." Hiro said dryly.

Fred narrowed his eyes, "I bet he's just hatching his next nefarious scheme. Planning on how to take us and the city down. What do you think he wants with portals?"  

Just then Steamer stood up and ruefully kicked away a busted up robot that had fallen out of a storage crate in his previous hunt for the tea cup.

"I don't think Steamer is our guy." Hiro said, "He hates modern technology, so why would he build ninja robots? Also, like you said, what would he want with portals? All he's after is your dad, and so far the Bosu hasn't gone after Boss Awesome yet."

"But they might. Remember what Roddy said? That Kensei guy used to be active during Dad's heyday but never got caught. What if, it's because Steamer had two villain identities!"

"That seems like a stretch."

"Okay, well, what if Steamer works for this Bosu? Like Sue and Sparkles?"

"That's more plausible, I guess."

Hiro turned to peer through the window again, but Streamer was gone.

'Wait, where did he go?'

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of interlopers." A curt British voice  came from behind them.

Steamer must have noticed them and snuck around the back, cutting them off.

Hiro grabbed his phone in order to call his super suit, but Von Steamer nabbed his hand and yanked him off the ground, causing him to lose hold of his phone.

Fred was just as unfortunate, as Steamer held him in a choke hold in his metal arm.

"Waaaait," Steamer said as he eyed them both up closely, peering at them through his oversized monocle, "I know you two. You're friends of Boss Awesome's baby child!"

"I am Boss Awesome's baby child!" Fred protested before Von Steamer gave him a hard squeeze with his cyborg arm. Fred wheezed in pain.

Hiro reacted quickly and kicked the steampunk baron in the shins.

Von Steamer howled in pain and dropped Hiro in surprise, though he managed to keep his grip on Fred. He also had stepped on Hiro's phone while nursing his injured leg.

Hiro ducked and ran as Steamer regained his senses and pulled out a brass gun that was connected to the boiler on his back with a hose. He pulled the trigger and scalding steam shot out. Hiro ducked again to avoid it.

As he ran out of the alley way he heard Steamer shouting after him, "Yes, run back to Boss Awesome little one. Tell his baby child I have their friend, and either he, or they, must show up to face me or else!"

Hiro spared a glace backwards and saw Baron Von Steamer dragging Fred back into the warehouse.

"Fred!"

"Hiro!" Fred called out to him before being pulled into the darkness.

Hiro panicked. What could he do? Finally, he decided that getting help was the best option. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, fighting back his worry.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 10)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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

Geralt awoke slowly, not sure how he’d managed to fall asleep, but his hands were warm. His hands were still clutched around Jaskier’s hand, but blue eyes were meeting his. 

It was evening, the small window dark outside, but someone, probably Yennefer, had placed a small candle on the washstand that was the only other furniture in the room. It lit Jaskier with a warm and golden glow. His eyes were bleary, his hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. 

“G’ralt.”

“I’m here,” Geralt whispered, relief doing the job of several hours of sleep and a good meal. 

“You’re here,” Jaskier said. His voice was weak, but his heartbeat was stronger than before, taking up it’s familiar place in the background noises of Geralt’s life. 

Jaskier kicked feebly at the blankets around his legs and Geralt pulled the blankets back. Jaskier was just in his smallclothes, a bloody bandage wrapped around his thigh, bright red and fading to pink where less blood seeped through.

“Ow,” Jaskier said.

“More than ow,” Geralt grumbled. He began to stand up, Jaskier’s bandages needed changing, and he meant to fetch Yennefer, but she swept through the doorway before he could even fully straighten. 

“Wow,” Jaskier muttered. “Hello, beautiful and, oh, stunningly violet-eyed lady, but as I’m married, may I ask for some trousers?”

“Not with a ten-foot pole, bard,” Yennefer snapped. “And no trousers, you’ll mess with the wound.” She began to change the bandages with ill-tempered movements that were, nevertheless, gentle. 

Jaskier blanched as he saw the, frankly, gaping wound in his thigh, but he smiled wanly and tipped his head up to Geralt. “I’ll finally have a battle scar, just like you.”

Geralt knelt again, swiping Jaskier’s hair back from his slightly sweaty forehead. “I hope this is the only one you ever have.”

Jaskier grimaced, his eyes were going glazed over as exhaustion and pain caught up with him again. “Me too,” he whispered, settling more fully back into the pillow.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said urgently. He had to say something, had to let Jaskier know. “I swear,” he swallowed and clutched Jaskier’s hand again. “I promise to you, on the swords I wear at my back, to do the right thing for you. I promise I will always think of you, and hold you dear to me.” Geralt knew his shoulders were shaking, because he knew the ultimate betrayal he was going to commit. “Everything I do for you will be for your own good.”

Jaskier smiled and patted Geralt’s cheek sweetly, his hand uncoordinated, but warm. “That’s nice, my husband.” Jaskier’s eyes slid closed. “Hero,” he murmurred, turning over.

Geralt glanced up. Yennefer was staring at him with wide, purple eyes. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt an overwhelming urge to give her a hug. Given that this course of action would probably result in being turned into something amphibian, he didn’t.

“You just,” she said, looking at him as if he were the dumbest thing on earth. “You just swore your affection for me.”

Geralt returned the look. “I wasn’t even talking to you.”

Yennefer smacked him over the head, not terribly hard, but emphatically. “Didn’t you feel it you great...you giant LUMP of a foolish witcher? His great windfall,” she pointed at Jaskier, perfectly lacquered nails glinting menacingly in the candlelight. “His great windfall is now mine, you just swore to love me.”

They gaped at one another in the dim light, golden eyes meeting purple.

“Fuck.”

Yennefer just nodded her agreement.

They sat, backs against the side of the bed, staring at the wall. Jaskier turned over a little, his warm breath ruffling Geralt’s hair. 

“I still love him,” Geralt said.

“How can you tell?”

Jaskier made a disgusting snorfulling noise and flopped yet again, his elbow conking the back of Geralt’s head. Geralt looked over at him as he drooled somewhat.

“Because I think he’s beautiful like this.”

Yennefer snorted. “If that’s love I don’t want it, but your feelings for him don’t have to be erased for you to be my lover of surprise.”

Geralt rested his head in his hands.

“I’m not a homewrecker,” Yennefer said.

Geralt glanced up at her. “Never?”

She shrugged. “Maybe sometimes, but not now. I don’t want to take you from your husband.”

“We’re married for political reasons. It wasn’t a love match.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Geralt chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, I didn’t plan on him being so...”

“So stupid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. No self preservation, no filter, no understanding of personal space. Endless enthusiasm for the most dangerous parts of my job. Desperate for attention all the time. Ability to speak to the dead...”

“That last one is a joke,” Yennefer said, snorting.

“No.”

“A poet, then. And a good one?”

“Apparently.”

“Damn.”

They stayed, staring at the wall until Geralt’s stomach growled. 

“Stew,” Yennefer said. She stood and left the room.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, still drooling into the borrowed pillow. Although his words had bound him to Yennefer, he hoped Jaskier would remember them, remember that they were meant for him, because Geralt was going to do what he fully should have done the day they left Chateau Lettenhove, and leave Jaskier behind.

Geralt trudged downstairs. The thought of leaving Jaskier ached, but the bard had never really been his to keep. 

Yennefer set a bowl of stew down in front of him so hard it slopped over onto the table. 

“So,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

Geralt shrugged and she huffed. 

“Don’t make me hex you,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to leave the boy, aren’t you?”

Geralt shrugged again. When it didn’t satisfy he said, “I’m not good for him.”

“He doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He thinks a griffin would make a nice pet.”

Yennefer snickered. Geralt liked the way she laughed, and she was pretty, her purple eyes were striking, but he couldn’t help but think how he liked blue eyes so much better. 

He wished he didn’t know exactly why blue had become his preference.

“I’m not keeping him if you leave him here,” Yennefer said. “I don’t need a puppy and I don’t like music.”

“He has a friend here.”

“That’s good, do you know anything about the friend, or were you just going to drop him in the center of the city and hope they stumble into eachother?”

“Her name’s Essi. She’s pretty and a bard.”

Geralt finished his stew without saying more. He remembered how Jaskier had extolled Essi’s virtues. Her talent, style, her remarkable beauty. He’d told a story of how Essi had gotten them out of a bit of a fix with a rowdy drunk.

Between her and Jaskier’s skill with a fish knife, he’d be fine.

He’d be better than fine, he’d be with people like him who knew art and music and liked fine clothes and fine wine. He’d never be sliced open by bandits or slashed by some dreadful monster. 

Geralt rose from Yennefer’s table and walked back up the stairs to the little room. Jaskier seemed to be asleep still, blankets tangled around him. Geralt had brought his bags from their camp and set them and his lute in the corner. One of the bags had a bit of white cloth peeking out. 

Geralt pulled at it. It was from Jaskier’s wedding outfit. a little scrap of the lining was loose and slightly tattered. On an impulse, Geralt tugged at it. A piece, only a few centimeters square, came loose in his hand. Geralt stared at it, pale and fluttering slightly. 

Jaskier had been so beautiful that day, and he’d laughed when Geralt danced with him. There was music playing in the sleeping city, blowing in through the window and Geralt wished he could have just one more dance. 

He tucked the tiny fabric scrap into his black leather bracer. 

Yennefer was standing in the doorway. 

“Can you find Essi Daven for me?” He asked. 

“I already have,” she said, stepping forward, into Geralt’s space.

Geralt nodded at her, feeling the warmth of being around her, the affection blooming around their linked destinies. 

“I was thinking,” she said. “What you said earlier, to him, you promised to care for him.”

“I did.”

Yennefer’s lips were red painted and perfect. 

Geralt sensed her move before she even began, her arms came up and his hands went into her thick, dark hair.

It was a good kiss, full and passionate without being indecent. 

It wasn’t a great kiss.

Geralt pulled away as Yennefer did and felt no compulsion to lean back in for another one. 

“Um,” came a small, hesitant voice from the bed. Geralt turned.

Jaskier was looking at them, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, beginning to step forward. 

“I would like to wash my face,” Jaskier said, without intonation. “Since I’m rather undressed, I’d like privacy, please.”

Geralt took the dismissal for what it was, stepping out into the thin hallway with Yennefer at his side. 

“I didn’t know he was awake,” she whispered on the edge of hearing. “I wouldn’t have--”

Geralt shrugged minutely. “He and I aren’t like that,” he whispered back, wary of the bard awake just feet away. He knew the sentence was a lie. Geralt hadn’t even thought of going to a brothel for a long time. Jaskier flirted with everyone and never did more. 

“I don’t love you,” Yennefer breathed. “You swore to protect and care for him, you never said love.”

“I never said love,” Geralt whispered back.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“No,” Geralt confirmed. “No more kisses.”

“You should explain--”

“No.” Geralt swallowed as he remembered Jaskier’s expression. Hurt, just for a brief flash of a second, heartbreak. “It’s better this way, a clean break.”

“It’s cruel.”

“It’s better if he hates me.” The thought burned like venom.

“What about your political marriage.” Yennefer made it clear that she didn’t think their marriage was all that political.

The hidden fidelity clause. Geralt cursed himself for forgetting, but so long as word never got back to Lettenhove it was fine.

“If he’s discreet it will never come up,” he said to Yennefer. She looked doubtful, lips pursing around something she didn’t say. She pushed a little box into his hands.

“A xenovox,” she said. “Since you’re destined to like and protect me.”

Geralt gave her a small smile and a nod.

Inside Jaskier’s room, something heavy hit the floor. Geralt went to push the door open, heart hammering, picturing Jaskier fainting from blood loss or putting too much weight on his bad leg.

Yennefer stopped him with a hand on his chest. “If you want a clean break...”

Geralt nodded. He caught a glimpse of Jaskier, on the floor but concious, as he walked away. 

Geralt wished he hadn’t been able to smell the salt of tears. 

Roach whinnied at him when he greeted her. She was stabled near the edge of the city at a rundown inn. He’d stabled Thunderbolt closer to Yennefer’s lodgings. Geralt accepted Roach’s headbuts, raising a hand to pet her soft muzzle, then pressing a kiss to the white on her forehead. He was exhausted, eyes sliding closed even as he stood there, smelling the familiar smells of horses and clean hay. 

Roach leaned her head over his shoulder, looking around.

“No Jaskier,” he whispered. She flicked her ear. “No Thunderbolt.” 

Roach looked at him and Geralt couldn’t help but feel that it was somewhat accusatory. She blinked her long eyelashes at him and he shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his face. 

Brushing Roach’s mane wasn’t really necessary. The stable boy had taken one look at Geralt, who was still covered in Jaskier’s blood, and terror had ensured that Roach would be the best cared for mare in Oxenfurt. 

Geralt had tipped the boy extra too. 

Geralt brushed her mane anyway, not ready to sleep in a tiny, dirty bed all alone. He hummed lightly to her

Toss a coin to your witcher...

The song had grown on him, like moss, or a horrible fungal disease. 

Geralt went through his familiar motions as he cared for his horse and got ready for bed. The watchful eyes of the inn patrons followed him but he didn’t care. He felt hollowed out, like someone had cut him open and removed something important before sewing him up.

The bed was, indeed, tiny. Geralt’s feet hung slightly off the end when he laid straight, so he curled on his side. He would leave first thing in the morning. Maybe he’d head north early this year, there was no reason he couldn’t go to Kaer Morhen early. Vesemir would probably be glad for help with repairs.

Vesemir had liked Jaskier. 

Jaskier had liked Vesemir too, he’d gotten along with all the wolves, even Lambert. And he’d been so excited when Geralt said he’d bring him to the keep. 

Geralt thought about the library of the keep, all those books that hardly ever even got seen. He could picture the large wooden desk beside the fire where he was sure Jaskier would sit. Or maybe they’d bring up one of the few couches and they could sit there together. Jaskier would talk about what he’d learned or the new song he was composing with his head resting in Geralt’s lap as the fire crackled.

It would never happen now. 

Geralt had broken Jaskier’s heart. And he’d done it on purpose. He hadn’t meant for Jaskier to see him kiss Yennefer, hadn’t really ever meant for there to be a kiss with Yennefer. But Jaskier had told him not to leave him so many times. He’d said he didn’t want to be abandoned or dropped off or gotten rid of. 

Geralt didn’t think he’d ever be able to rid himself of thoughts of Jaskier. The damn bard would walk the path beside him every day until Geralt’s death, without ever needing to be present. 

Geralt had to leave Jaskier though. Next time the wound could be to his jugular, to his heart. Had the crossbow bolt hit just slightly to the side it would have been an artery and Jaskier would have bled out onto the grass in minutes. 

Geralt stared at the cieling. 

“I feel you should know that I didn’t like doing that.”

Yennefer’s voice came from the little box resting on the table. Geralt sat up.

“Doing what?”

“I just dropped your husband off with Essi,” Yennefer said. Geralt winced at the reminder. Husband. “He was crying. I don’t do crying. He nearly got snot on my dress.”

Geralt’s heart twisted in his chest. “He’ll be happier with her,” he said.

“Maybe, he greeted her as ‘little sister’ so they must be close.”

Little sister. Geralt had thought that Essi meant something else to Jaskier but...but he really didn’t have any right to care who meant what to the man.

“Thank you,” Geralt said.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being stupid.”

Geralt hummed. He stared at the little box on the table, feeling even worse than before. After a long time he spoke.

“I think I’ve been very stupid already.”

He didn’t know if Yennefer was still listening. 

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

Shorter chapter, but that’s where this one needed to end I think. They’ll figure it out. Also, now Geralt has one (1) destiny guaranteed friend. 

Vibe for this chapter: Evermore from Beauty and the Beast.

Tag List!

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[softenerescape]

Feedee Teasing

Part 1: Greed

So this greedy whale wants some food does she?

Look at yourself! Look at all that flab! You’re disgracefully obese and you still just want to eat more and grow fatter?!! Hungry for more to fill your shamefully huge overhanging gut are you piggy? Well okay then you bloated cow if that’s what you want then maybe it’s time you were taught a lesson! You really want more food? You’ll get more food alright! Open wide piggy! Let’s just stuff you so full of fattening treats that people will stare in horror as you swell up like a big fat human shaped balloon shall we? Give you all you can eat, yes even you porky! And then more, and more, and MORE. Strapped down and forced to eat, eat, eat! A never ending flow of sinfully fattening cuisine to stuff you full to the brim, overfull, until you swear one more bite might just make your stomach explode, a 24/7 overfed sow, so much food you’ll swear you can feel yourself getting fatter by the minute as you’re wheeled from restaurant to restaurant, buffet to buffet, and made to eat and eat until all the food is gone as everyone stares aghast in morbid fascination at the size of your belly spilling out in front of you, at your huge bloated body slowly but steadily bursting the seams of your clothes as you gorge yourself on dessert after dessert until every last one is gone.

Well?! Is that enough fucking food for you greedy-guts? Poking your belly makes you burp! Nope, there’s still room in there! Off to the next place. Do you like donuts? Four dozen for starters? Doesn’t matter how ridiculously full you are, you’re going to eat them ALL. Everyone knows you’re probably too helplessly horngry to resist anyway haha! Greedy gluttons as naughty as you never can say no can they? So why not wash them all down with full cream milkshakes! Just hook you up to the drink machine and pump you up until you can’t take any more? Sound good you obscene tub of lard?! Then everyone can watch you blow up with fat until you burst from your clothes, until you’re so fat not even your shoes can fit your bloated round feet! What’s the matter piggy? Too full? But that’s never stopped you before! You’ve gotten too fat to move? Well no matter then you’re not going anywhere till you’ve eaten every last donut in the store. Aww you’re so heavy your chair has collapsed. Damn you’re a complete fucking whale aren’t you? Don’t think that means this is over! We’ll just have to haul you around on a big 1 ton trailer or something. All that obscene fat wobbling unsteadily down the road as you travel to your next awaiting feast. I know! We’ll put some mattresses on it, several cause one won’t be wide enough before long, maybe soft rubber ones so we can hose you down between feedings. Haha we can do that at a carwash, imagine the looks you’ll get! Huge soapy obscene fat rolls as thick as a man’s waist glistening in the sun!

Where next? The chocolate factory? Okay and then the ice-cream factory! Think you can eat it all? Well you’d be in no position to refuse now that you’re a massive helpless fat blob! You’re so fucking greedy it’ll probably only take you a couple of weeks. We’ll make you eat yourself so fat and round it’ll be a struggle to wiggle your arms. So much blubber! Unable to do anything except watch yourself grow and grow until you’re the fattest woman there ever was and ever will be. Swelling up fatter, and fatter, and FATTER until you’re nothing but a gigantic horny round butterball. Constantly tempted with so many naughty tasty treats. You can’t help it that they taste so good can you? You can’t help it that they make you swell up like a balloon! A big horny balloon.

Whimpers and moans muffled by huge handfuls of cake as you feel your enormous bloated body expand by the minute, plumping up, up, up, as your huge overstuffed stomach extracts calories from ungodly amounts of food, forcing them unceremoniously into your fat reserves. So huge and FAT that you’d wonder if you might actually burst whilst your titanic belly digests your next meal, oh dear! Yes indeed you overfed sow, that’s far, far too fat for your own good! But even then it’s a good bet you’d STILL be hungry, wouldn’t you porky? Look at yourself and admit it haha! Guess we’d have to launch food at you somehow from a distance, no way we’re risking getting any closer to a girl who’s clearly so greedy she’d be in danger of eating so much she could blow any second lol!

That’s what happens when you’re such a shamelessly naughty greedy glutton! Be careful of the path you’re starting down fat girl! That appetite of yours is clearly already out of control! You better put down that box of donuts before it’s too late!

Part 2: Gluttony

You waddle to the fridge. I can hear your panting and wheezing and grunting for the effort of moving your gelatinous body. You're addicted to glutting that doughy body. You're never full, even when you're not hungry. You chew and slurp and pour thousands of calories down your throat. Meanwhile, your fatty form pleads for mercy. You know what the doctor said. You're already morbidly obese -- even with all your supposed dieting -- and your cholesterol is still climbing, your sugars are all off. You're so massive that you're winding from the effort of standing on your weak knees in front of the fridge.

Do you even care? You can barely hold yourself up, and you've only been standing a couple minutes. You're far too greedy to pull your lips away from the quart of cream you're sucking down. Instead you ease yourself to the floor, heavy body still landing with a thud. That feels so much better on your pained joints, doesn't it? Now you can focus on how turned on you are. How good all that cream swelling your blubber feels. You switch arms because one starts to tire, moving on to the next quart of cream with ease. You suck down more than your greedy mouth can hold. Two trails of cream seep from your greasy mouth corners. What a thirsty piglet.

Underneath the mountain of growing lard, you squeeze your thighs together. It just feels so good, your empty hog brain can barely process it. You feel sparks shoot from between your legs and crawl up your spine. You toss the second empty and your gut gurgles. All that gas rolling around just makes you hungrier and hornier. As if you aren't always hungry and horny, right? You used to pretend that, once upon a time. Good to see you've slipped so far into the pit of hedonism that you're incapable of thinking that deeply. It doesn't matter anyway, right? Eating and cumming over and over while you bloat and grow... that's how you'd rather spend your shortened life.

You reach your stubby arms into the fridge and pull down a mess of Tupperware. Most people don't have this many leftovers in their fridge, you know? But I keep cooking and cooking for you, making more food than you can handle. For now, at least. These fridge raids keep happening more frequently... is your appetite getting that much more insatiable? You don't think about that, though. You don't think about anything. You just tip container after container into your desperate maw. You make a giant mess, but it doesn't matter to you. Under the food stains and drippings, you feel pleasure. Your gut gurgles and gas slips out of you, but you barely notice. I hear your wheezy sniffing. It sounds shockingly close to real pig grunting. You smile dumbly at the wretched smell and suck more slop down.

What's happened to you? Is the old you still hiding under all that sweaty, stretch mark littered flab? Is the old you screaming, begging this new gluttonous monster to stop? Or since resigned, submissive to your gassy, growing form? A bassy belch rolls off your tongue. You're drooling -- is it from the taste or your room temperature IQ? It doesn't matter, because you work the cap off a two liter, and greedily suck it down. You get even gassier, and your smile looks dumber and dumber. Pleasure is painted across your features. Your eyes aren't even focused, just glazed over and half lidded. Are you high, or is that all you? Not to mention the trail of slobber and food remnants coating your chin, and the bits hiding in the chins below that. You've hardly got a neck anymore. Your body just keeps blowing up, and you can't even stop yourself. The better it feels, the less you fight. And from the looks of it, it feels heavenly.

You have no appetite control, that much is obvious. Just like your self-control and discipline, it has withered away. You force gas out of your gut with your thick fingers, then resume cramming in calories. I bet that feels so good, doesn't it? Look at how hard your nipples are. Those swelling tits. I bet you're making your undies pretty wet too. Too bad I can't see them between gargantuan thighs and an overfed sphere of a gut. Another belch rolls off your tongue and your eyes practically end up in your skull. Your stomach is too stretched to ever be normal again. Even if you stopped your constant grazing and night long stuffings, your capacity is through the roof. We can't eat the same meals any more. If there's not an excess of fats, sugar, butter, or bubbles, you won't be full. You need to be full to the brim, and more. And if bleary eyed fullness doesn't stop your over-indulgence, a piddly salad never will.

You just keep sucking down all that grease. Don't think too hard about it. Keep growing. Get dumber. Get fatter. It's okay, piglet. Nobody is judging you. Nobody knows that you used to be a quarter of this size. That you used to walk without breaking a sweat, that you could see your toes before, that you used to eat healthy. Don't think about before. Think about now, or nothing at all. I'll keep cooking for you, making sure my sow gets all the necessary nutrients, like lots of carbs and sodium and sugars. All you have to do is tip another Tupperware in your mouth, crack another soda open. The weight will pile on, and you'll get all the pleasure you need.

Let's see how long your body can handle it, shall we?

[enigma-im]

Eighth day of Christmas...

Trope: Heat (NSFW) Relationship: Werewolf x Human Word Count: 7,058

I knew the moment I stepped off the bus that I was in trouble. From the horrid heat and melting pot of people, this was going to be a challenge. The dry air nearly made me cough the second I got off the steps. Everyone seemed as annoyed with the environment as I, which is a small relief. Looking around at all the people was both a relief and a nightmare. We all had no idea what was going on but I knew I stood out like a sore thumb.

"You," someone shouts, silencing the crowd. I look around till I spot a hardened older Soldier making his way towards me. The crowd splits before he can charge through. The man glares daggers at me before stopping uncomfortably close.

"Me," I ask, pointing to myself with unease.

"Yes, you," he shouts," what other mutts around here would I be talking to?"

"Right," I nearly drop my shoulders," what do you need?"

"I wanted to get a look at the first werewolf soldier who gets to become my guard dog for this year," he answers, appraising me with discontent," I expect excellence from you, mutt, this few months you will be chewed up and spit out a better dog than a better man. You have big shoes to fill, guiding your kind into the future and not a single one of us will give you an inch or centimeter to make mistakes. Do I make myself clear, private!"

I feel a bit wobbly at his words," uh, yes."

The man leans closer to my face, shouting despite the distance," What was that, mutt? Stand tall, be loud! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," I stand at attention, my stomach rolling into knots.

"That's better," he steps back," Now follow me."

The crowd splits again as the Drill Sargent stomps onward. As he passes, the young men and women look to me, a good mix of intrigued and disgust decorates the group. I straighten my shoulders and march after the man, keeping my head held high with pride.

The first werewolf to join the military, I got a lot to prove.

Conversation with the higher-ups of the camp was tense. I didn't expect it to go as well as it did, though a few sly jokes were made at my expense. They were all weirdly supportive of having me at the grounds, looking forward to trying out their new regimen for my kind. Having a stronger and more capable creature in their boot camp came with its own challenges it seems. They all seem excited to see what I can do.

A lot was explained, trying their best to just keep things running smoothly. No one was going to go easy on me and I'm expected to surpass even the best of their squads. I'm oddly invigorated to take on this challenge.

"With everything all situated, is there anything else we may need to know," the Executive officer asks. He is a sweet man, to my surprise, and has been appreciatively thorough with his preparations.

"Yea, we don't want any issues to come about with having you here. A lot of the soldiers are looking to make an example of you already, though you've done nothing wrong. So if there is anything we have to prepare for then please make light of it now," the senior drill sergeant explains.

"Nothing that I can envision happening here. I'm here to work and become the first in a line of werewolves to join the armed forces. Things will remain respectable on my end so if anything does go wrong I promise it won't be my fault," I answer. A big moment like this I can't even fathom screwing it up with some stupid actions. Let the people make their jokes and rude comments, I'm not bothered in the slightest.

"So we aren't going to catch you humping one of the other recruit's legs, right," the senior drill sergeant jokes.

"Don't want you going into heat and trying to fuck every woman in a mile radius of you," the executive officer joins in. I smile despite the discomfort, shaking my head before explaining.

"No, no, I may turn into a big mutt but I'm not so savage as to do something like that. Don't believe the women would be too receptive to me doing such a thing either. When little Fido does it, it's funny. When I do it, it's enough to get me sent to jail," I joke with them. The two laugh, easing some of the tension.

"But you do go into heat, don't you," senior drill sergeant asks," we look out for medical emergencies and if that will become an issue, let us know ahead of time."

I shake my head," no, that won't be an issue. We only go into heat for a specific person and finding them here would be one hell of a terrible time but I highly doubt it will actually happen. I'm sure I would have smelled them in the crowd if so."

"Specific person," the officer snickers," how romantic, Fido."

"Sounds romantic but I've seen some friends go into rut over their mates, it's not that romantic," I wince, remembering all the fights," it's not a hallmark movie moment, sir."

The officer cocks a brow, wary," I'm almost tempted to ask but I'll refrain for now. Either way, I'll have sergeant Crews bring you to your barracks, and hopefully, we won't have to speak again anytime soon."

I drop off my things at my bunk, sorting them into a chest before heading off to P.T.

The first week of basics is easy, though I'm warned about next week after some miss placed words. My squad takes to me nicely, though I can do without the nicknames. It's a better week than I could hope for after the horror stories from active duty members.

We all sit in the crowded mess hall. Murmurs of conversations can be heard over the disgusting chomping of food. In times like this, I almost wish I didn't have such great hearing. The wet slobbering is beginning to turn my stomach.

"Hey, Spot, is it true you transform on the full moon," Casey, a fellow recruit, asks beside me. I snort, picking at the slop on my tray.

"No, I can do it whenever I want," I answer," full moon thing was for you people to pin some other garbage on the magnetic effects the moon has on the earth."

"oh, wow, movies lied to me again," he lightly bangs his hand on the table," what about silver? Does that do anything for ya?" I scoff, looking at him a bit amused. It has been a lot of teasing but I haven't had anyone sit down and ask before.

"No, silver doesn't do anything for me. Neither does holy water, crosses, or garlic," I tease. Casey rolls his eyes, looking back to his meal with a pout.

"I'm not an idiot, those are for vampires," he grumbles. I chuckle, amused by this human's questions. As I tease the man some more I catch a wondrous smell.

"Besides, I know a normal bullet would work on you anyway," Casey points his fork to me. I can't pay him any mind as I slyly glance around. My heart is racing and pounding against my chest as the smell completely engulfs me. Please no, not now. As I'm looking towards the door I freeze as someone walks behind me. As if everything slowed to a halt I look to the recruit walking over to her table. I can't help but gawk though her attire isn't much to be aroused by.

Brown hair pinned up in a bun and terribly fitted brown and camouflaged clothing. It's meant to be plain and nonattention grabbing but she makes it work. My body thrums with need as I watch her sit at the end of the bench. I can't look away as she eats, looking at her lips like a starved man. I want her, I need her. It's the only thought that runs through my mind.

She couldn't come into my life just a few months later could she?

The whole day I feel like I'm on fire, sickly and distraught. I haven't even been here this long and I feel like I'm about to ruin everything. Surely I can just explain to the XO that I have to deal with this and get right back to basics. I nod, it won't be such a long delay, I'll be right back here shortly.

I head straight to the office, stubbornly marching past the groups still running about. The heavenly smell barely permeates the hot dry air but still nearly knocks me on my ass. My attention snaps straight to her doing push-ups with her squad. She makes quite the sight all sweaty and focused. I can't help but stop and watch.

The squad's drill sergeant walks the rows, screaming motivating insults to them all. My little mate grits her teeth as he passes by, her arms shaking each time they straighten. The sergeant stops before her, crouching down as she stays propped up.

"Getting tired there, private," the sergeant baits," want to take a little break, perhaps?"

"No, sir," she barks out.

"Then get that face in the dirt, let's go," he snaps back at her. The urge to run to the man and deck him in his hooked nose is strong. I have to shake my head of the thought to actually get some semblance of control. She gets back to her exercise, going hard and strong into her next set with a stiff focus on her face. It's admirable to see anyone as determined as she looks. It picks at my heart a bit.

I'm not just taking away this chance for me momentarily but her too. Would she want to take the time off to deal with me? It can't be that big of an issue but starting over has to be something she rather not do. I sure as hell don't want to start the week over even if it wasn't too difficult. She is human so it had to be hell for her. I hum, chewing my cheek.

With fist clenched I turn away from the offices and head back to my barracks. I'll just wait this out, three months is nothing. I can keep my cool that long.

I kept that line of thinking all up till I got to my bunk. The barracks are quiet, the snores of the recruits barely registering to my non-idle thoughts. Every part of me is racing, my heart, thoughts, limbs. I have way too much energy to just sit here. Closing my eyes does nothing but let the thoughts keep me up. I've never had such an issue before, especially here.

Staring up at the ceiling I think of my little mate. She's a cutie, that's for sure. Even with the unflattering get up I can't ignore the appeal of her body. She has strength, as does most of the people here, but watching her do exercises with her squad showed more than just basic strength. I smile to myself as I think about the determined look she had while finishing her set. I have a strong little mate.

I groan as my mind keeps replaying the scene over and over. I can only pray that the rest of the month won't be like this. Turning onto my side I force my eyes closed, trying my damndest to get even a few hours of sleep.

The next week I'm weirdly filled with energy. Every morning I wake up excited to do runs, outpacing everyone by miles as I speed down the dirt track. Exercises become a blessing and every moment I spend sitting down is one where I'm anxious to get back up. The nights are no better, my body humming with unspent energy. It feels amazing to get out there and work.

Sitting at the lunch table I shovel food into my mouth, leg bouncing under the table. I want nothing more than to get back out there and get rid of this energy but lunch is kind of important. As I unflatteringly gulp down the muck an erotic scent ceases my tension. Flowing over my body like a warm shower. I close my eyes, taking in the calm.

"So, I gotta ask," a woman before me asks," do werewolves generally have this puppy energy, or is it just you because watching you hall ass down the track is almost inspiring."

As I open my eyes I'm left gawking at the woman. My beautiful mate sitting just across the table, smirking with her arms crossed. I swallow hard, feeling oddly nervous at this moment. What should I say? Should I say something? She quirks a brow at me, waiting for a reply.

"uh," I clench my pants under the table," depends on the person?"

She hums," is that a question or an answer?"

I straighten," a-a answer, ma'am."

"Hey, lighten up," she knocks on the table," don't need any of the ma'am business. I just wanted to ask, you have been buzzing like a bee this past week and I was kind of hoping it was something I could learn instead of it being genetics." my palms feel clammy the more she speaks. She's so casual, I almost wish she wasn't. I can handle stupid full moon questions over this. I wipe my hand on my pants.

"Sorry, it's all genetics," I give her a half-smile," blessings of the father I'm afraid to say."

She props herself up on crossed arms, her breast squeezing together," so was your mom human? I didn't think you can cross-breed like that." my eyes flick down to her pushed out chest, gulping hard I look down to my hands. I wipe my palms on my pants.

"No, a werewolf can b-breed with anyone," I meet her eyes," just has to be their mate."

"Awe, that sounds cute," she coos. Before she can add anymore the sergeants come in to collect their squads. I watch her look to the crowd, her shoulders dropping. She turns back to me," well, was nice talking with ya, Cujo." with that she leaves.

I remain seated as everyone begins filling out. Looking to my lap I groan in frustration, I never felt more like a measly runt than right now. Couldn't even talk to her and I'm sitting here with a full chub. I look to the crowd once more, catching sight of her turning out of the doorway. Fisting my pants I whimper lowly in my throat.

If I knew talking with her would make things worse then I would have never done it. The night we first spoke was tenser than any before. I feel like ants are crawling all over my skin, my body unbelievably hot. My blankets feel scratchy and too rough on my sensitive skin. I can hardly sleep as all I can think about is that beautiful woman smiling at me from across the table. Her ample chest just perched on her crossed arms. My loins lurch at the thought, aching to a degree I've never experienced.

I fall onto my back, panting as I kick the blanket off myself. Looking down myself in the dark barracks I see the tent in my pants. I groan, thumping my head against the pillow. A boner over a minute conversation with a girl, surely I couldn't stoop so low. I peak at my lap, groaning again as I flex my toes. Perhaps a little attention can soothe the beast?

Timidly I slide my hand down my stomach, fingers sneaking under the hem of my pants. I grab the base of my shaft, squeezing it while slowly closing my eyes. Just have to do this quickly and I got to get some sleep. With the task in mind, I aim for fast. I pump my fist, going harder than I've usually started. My callused hand feels uncomfortable, not helping the smooth glide I need. I take my hands out of my pants and lick my palm before trying again.

I jerk off, feeling itchy and frustrated as I do. I try to get it out and done before anyone can wake up to notice but I can't get into it. Trying a new tactic I relax on the bed. Keeping my eyes shut I slowly pump my fist up and down my shaft, pleased with the torturous glide. An image of my mate sitting across the lunch table pops in my head, my cock twitching at the picture. I admire her harden face, the beauty in her full cheeks when she smiles. I wince as my fingers glide over my tip.

The image shifts as I stare at her tits resting on the table. They are laid bare, her sweet little nipples hard from the cold lunchroom. My cock pulses as I think about reaching over the table to grab her, grazing my hand over her little buds. A whimper tries to bubble out from my throat, the sound surprising. I can't pay it any mind as I imagine tweaking her nipples, watching her face twist in pleasure. In my palm my cock aches, demanding more as I pump harder.

The scene twists, she's bent over the table with her tight ass presented to me. I whimper again, bucking into my fist. A bulge nudges against my hand with every descent. It would be something to investigate if I wasn't so tempted to continue. I picture lining my dick up with her weeping slit, gently pressing my tip in with a retrained grunt. Another whine leaves me, the base of my cock throbbing worst than the rest of me. As fantasy me bottoms out inside her I bite my fist to reject the whimper trying to cry out.

"Fuck," I mumble in a cry. I jerk till I can feel my body shiver in its impending climax, utterly debauched at the fantasy playing out. As I reach my breaking point I grip the hard bulge at the base of my cock, squeezing as hard as I can as I cum in my boxers. My grip pulses as I unload all over myself.

My grip eases slightly as I catch my breath. I feel disgusting as the wet fabric sticks to my tip. Looking down my body I wince at the damp stain. I tug down my pants and catch a look at my still hard dick, I furrow my brow confused. Generally, I'm soft shortly after, not still ragingly hard. I look to the bulge still cupped in my hand. Well, that's new. I test a squeeze. A shot of pleasure jolts up my spine making my head feel fuzzy. I nearly curl into myself at the surprise. That's definitely new.

I take one more glance at myself, wincing at the sight. I'm no fresh pup, I know what's pulsing at my base. I just didn't think it would come out without being buried inside someone. Sighing, I tuck myself away and attempt to get some sleep. I wince at the sticky fabric, suddenly regretting not waiting till a more opportune time to do this.

Circling the track for the 2nd time I catch up with the squad. Everyone is taking a breather, panting hard after the three miles. I casually jog up to them, still vibrating with energy.

"How can you even do this, air bud," Scott grabs at his knees," I knew there would be running but…fuck."

I look at him bemused," air bud?"

"Well it's like my dog, Rufus," another squad member claps me on the shoulder," would just run around for hours once I let him outside." I look between the two.

"I just like running," I answer," I feel rather energetic lately."

We all talk as I bounce on my heels. The sergeant rounds us all up before heading off to the next part of PT.

We begin jumping jacks in our lines, listening to the drill sergeant scream encouragements. Looking off to the side I catch sight of another squad doing their miles. They all seem rather calm, must be their first mile. I watch them go by, just briefly catching sight of my little mate in the middle of the crowd. A smile curls on my face as I watch her run along. Her arms pumping and chest bouncing. A raging need thrums into my veins, my cock standing to attention. I watch her in a daze.

"What are you doing, boy," someone shouts, grabbing me by the back of my shirt. I stumble as I'm tugged backward, torn from my stupor. Catching my bearings I realized I've tried to walk out of formations, ignoring my exercises in favor of following her delicious smell.

"uh," I shake my head," Sorry, saw a squirrel." I half-smile, hoping the joke would land. He grits his teeth, tugging me back in line.

"I'd make you run another set but I think you would enjoy that, instead you're on patrol tonight, Fido," he shouts, walking back down the line," Let's start again, from the beginning. One, two, three…"

Lunch has me excited, feeling like my tail is ready to sprout out and reveal my pleasure. I quickly shovel down my muck, looking around like an eager pup for any sight of her. Spotting her coming out of the line and heading my way I can't help but wipe my face and straighten my clothes. I nearly bounce in my seat as she gets closer.

"So you do have a tail," Scott tugs on something behind me. I grunt, twisting around with a growl. Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of my fluffy black tail.

"Ah, fuck," I grumble, looking to her coming closer then back at my tail. Without much thought, I pin it between the bench and my thigh.

"Hello, Cujo," she greets," you're endless energy for exercises will never cease to amaze me." she sits down at the table, her tray clanking against the metal. My tail tugs, wanting to break free. I open my mouth to answer, interrupted by someone clapping me on the back.

"Yea, it's making the rest of us look bad. He makes three miles look easy," Tyler jokes as he sits beside me.

"well, it is easy, you guys are just out of shape," she jokes back. I snort, glancing at the offended men on either side of me. My mate has a sense of humor I see.

"haha, hilarious, G.I. Jane," Tyler deadpans.

"It's funny you should say that because I caught you slacking behind your crew today," Scott props his smug face on his hand," it's bad enough they let dogs in the military but you women have a lot more to prove." I can't help but sneer at Scott.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and leaning forward." yea, well what's your excuse, cadet?"

Scott leans forward as well," got a handicap, love, hard to run with three legs."

My mate snorts a chuckle, shaking her head as she grabs her food," What kind souls the higher-ups are to let you join with such a clear handicap."

Scott bounces his brow," you know it, baby. I'll be happy to show you my treatment options, perhaps you can help?" I stiffen at the suggestion, my limbs and chest tightening as Scott continues to flirt. A low rumble climbs up my throat, back arching as I glare at him.

"Think I'll pass, I heard that men with large dicks tend to need too much prep work for a minute of entertainment," she bites back. Scott shrugs as Tyler chuckles, them all going back to their meal. The growl comes out louder, my teeth pricking at my lip as I snarl at him. Scott looks at me, recoiling at the clear aggression.

"You ok, Fido," Scott asks," looks like I'm trying to take your food or something." I feel everyone's eyes on me, confused and concerned. A possessiveness boils under my skin, demanding action against this male. I swallow hard, shaking my head as I glare down at my tray. Reigning back the shift, I shake my shoulders.

"Sorry," I growl," just feeling tense today." everyone nods, quietly eating their meals. I pass a glance to my mate, worried I pushed her away with my lack of control. We look to one another, the edge of her lip tugging up. She looks away with a shy smile gracing her beautiful face. I smile to myself as I eat.

After lunch I go for a run, feeling more anxious than yesterday. I dig hard, making record speed over my fifth mile. My body feels invigorated but anxious as I run. My brain goes a mile a minute, demanding attention to the one person driving me crazy. With Scott's words ringing in my ears all I can do is think about the threat. Someone is encroaching on my territory, challenging my claim.

I shake my head, I haven't claimed her. Hell, I don't even know her name. I run harder. Pictures of her flash through my head, my fantasy of the other night forcing discomfort to my groin. I shake again. Just running isn't doing enough, I need more now.

Slowing to a stop I take off my shirt. Crouching and pressing my fingers to the ground I allow my skin to break. I grunt with my bones snapping and rearranging. The pain feels great, an action my body agrees with greatly. With my claws digging into the dirt and fur bristling in the breeze I bolt down the track on all fours.

cadets and Sergeants gawk as I high tail it around the trail. I breathe heavy, tongue lulled to the side as I hear the air roar in my ears. Everything feels so open and free. This is something I've missed all week. Changing in front of everyone made me feel embarrassed, self-conscious. I'm not like them and proving that could lead to problems. Right now, I couldn't care less. I have other issues to deal with.

After running around for hours I fall in the grass near the tree line, laying on my stomach to bask in the sun. I should be exhausted now, all this mating energy out for the time being. Closing my eyes and resting my chin on my paws I relax. It's a lovely day out.

Sitting there for a moment I feel a burst of energy. I growl. Two hours of running on top of PT this morning, how can I be nearly vibrating with need? This mating business is getting harder and harder to ignore. All I think, hear, smell is her. My cock stirs against my stomach, the hot length pinned to the ground. I growl again.

Making my way to the showers I angrily toss my torn shorts and turn the water on. I step into the cold stream, shocked at the temperature. This should help, I can chill out before patrols tonight. Closing my eyes I press my head against the tiled wall. Not even a second in and I see her. I see her wet and naked before me, giving me eyes and beckoning me forward. I clench my fist and grow as my cock throbs.

"Fine," I grab my erection," you win again."

I jerk myself hard and fast, snarling as I picture pounding into her sweet cunt. Bucking into my fist I imagine her bouncing breast and wonderful cries of pleasure. I need her, I need her so damn bad. Baring my teeth with clenched eyes I feel my base ache. I grab at my knot, pinching it in a tight grip. I can feel my seed go up my shaft, spraying the wall. Whimpering, I pulse my grip on my base, sighing as each drop is let out.

"I can't keep doing this," I whimper," I'm so tired." my cock doesn't soften, even as I turn the water off and dry myself it still aches for her.

Walking the perimeter I look around the dark camp. My uniform feels scratchy and tight as I step. There are bags under my eyes and I'm still filled with energy. I'm tired and hyper at the same time. The walk around the base feels like a dream, hollow and dazed. I'm so sleepy.

The sound of a door opening catches my attention the same time a wonderous perfume punches me in the nose. My head snaps to a shed out a bit of way from the main building. A light is shining out the open door, a shadow cast on the sidewalk. I take another inhale of that sweet scent, my cock pulses.

Like a zombie, I shuffled to the shed. The corners of my vision are distorted as I turn into the doorway. My eyes snap to the person standing at the opposite end next to a shelf. She looks over her shoulder, smiling when she realizes who it is.

"Hey, Cujo," my mate greets," you look like shit, you ok?" she takes a step to me, concerned. A growl snaps out my mouth, my shoulders sagging forward. She recoils, taking a step back. I match her, taking one forward. "Cujo," she tries to say casually but comes out a little worried," you need something from the shed?" I take another step. Her back hits the shelf, startling her as she watches me stalk forward. With all my control out the window, I storm towards her, bracing my hands on either side of her head. My face buries against her neck, taking a large inhale.

"What's your name," I growl out, using the final bit of control I have to ask.

"S-Samantha, my friends call me Sam," she jokes with a timorous hilt. I lick up the taunt tendon of her throat, she shudders. "Cujo," she timidly runs her hand up my arm," what's happening?" I nearly purr at her touch. Her words barely register as I lap at her skin, drunk on her already. I hear the smallest whimper from her, making my ears perk up.

"W-what's your name," she asks as her hand glides up my back to card her fingers through my hair.

"Trevor," I bite at her shoulder," and I can't take it anymore."

"Take what," she says nearly breathless. I can't answer, only having enough thought to grab her thighs and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist easily, pulling me against her heat. My eyes nearly roll with the friction. With little thought I slowly rock my hips, my tongue licking up her neck to her cheek then licking over her lips. Her fingers tug on my hair, scratching at my skin.

"You want me," she asks. I buck hard into her in answer, she chuckles. "Am I your mate," she asks. A spark starts in my loins at her saying such a thing. Does she accept this? Accept me?

Aching and primed I get her on the ground, licking her as I feel my tail stuck in my pants. My brain is muddled and unfocused, wanting to tear her clothes off and mount her right here. It feels wrong- it feels right. I bite at her shoulder again, frustrated beyond belief as I grind into her.

"S-sam," I whimper," Please."

She tugs on my hair again, snaking her hand under my shirt to pet at my sprouting fur. "What do you want, Trevor," she asks.

"You," I dig my teeth into her skin," you, you, you."

She laughs, rubbing her cheek against mine," then have me, big boy."

In a flurry of need, lust, want, I rip her shirt. I can't bring myself to feel guilty as her nearly naked torso is before me. I lather at her chest, plucking the little strap between her cups with my clawed finger. My tongue wets her nipples, chest, stomach, listening to her little adorable whimpers. I feel frenzied as I shove her pants down and bury my face against her cunt. She smells sweet, tastes like ambrosia.

"Oh, good boy," she grips my hair too tightly. I lap are her folds like a dying man, feeling my body pulse and rejoice. She is amazing and all mine, open and pleasured by me. Her body wiggles and grinds against me, forcing me to hold her hips. Her thighs clamped around my face, nearly covering my ears. I'm pleased to hear her cries and feel her tighten around my tongue as I force it inside her. Oh, by the gods, she's divine.

I continue showering my attentions upon her as she tries to push me away," that's enough, Trevor, I need you." my head perks up at her words. She needs me? I sit up, ripping my already torn shirt off my shifted body. I rush to undo my pants, tearing at them enough for my cock to poke through. I look down at her cunt, licking my chops with excitement. I fall over her, hands framing her head. My hips gravitate towards her, needing her more than air. I whimper as I can't bring myself to plunge into her like a savage. Whimper again I meet her eyes, begging her.

She smiles, reaching up and petting my cheek," go ahead, Trevor, I think I understand." overjoyed I lick her mouth, tail wagging freely now.

Now free to do as I need I look between us and nudge my cock against her. My tip spreads her folds but delving into her awaiting heat is hard. I can't think, instincts taking all my control. I whimper again, looking at her. She smiles sweetly, reaching down and guiding me. I wait eagerly for her to lead me, feeling her place me at her entrance. I shove forward, engulfed easily. I whine and growl as I push as far as I can go. I try to nudge further but my base is already swollen. I chuff.

With my new addiction wrapped around my cock I withdraw before plunging into her divine heat with a heavy breath. This is what I've needed, what I've craved. I can't stop myself from bucking into her hard and fast, demanding everything with each thrust. My ears ring as I'm taken to a world of pure bliss.

Samantha writhes and whimpers with me, grabbing at the fur on my chest. I lean closer, pressing my body to hers. My thrusts begin to shorten till I'm rutting into her with shallow humps. Short uncontrolled bucks that leave my knot knocking at her entrance. An overwhelming need overtakes me. I bump my knot harder and harder against her, demanding entrance with every nudge. With a hard push, she opens more for me. I grunt as I force it, locking her to me with a satisfied sigh.

We both wriggle against each other till I'm left whining against her shoulder, with a well-timed clench on her part I'm bursting inside her. I bite down on her shoulder, marking her as my cum paints her insides. Her walls flutter around me. I listen to her melodious cries as I cum. It's too perfect, too beautiful.

With my cock locked inside her I can't help but wag my tail and lick at her face. She giggles, allowing me to shower her in affection as she rests on the floor. I pamper her, licking at her sweat and cleaning every part I can reach. She is mine now, my wonderful mate.

As my knot begins to deflate I feel the week catch up with me. I collapse on her, my cock softening and falling out. She grunts as my weight is on her. My eyes begin to flutter, my body coming back to its original state. I drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

I awaken in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar clothes. Without much thought I sniff out my mate, wanting to roll into her comforting arms. A disgusting chemical smell greets me instead of her warm scent. I jump awake, scared, and worried immediately.

"Whoa, cool it, Spot," someone catches my attention. I snap my eyes to them, seeing a skinny man in normal military attire. The brown shirt and camo pants.

"Where is Sam," I growl, disoriented as adrenaline fills my veins.

"The girl? Probably talking with the XO," he shrugs," should be back here soon." the man looks to his computer on his medical trolley. Feeling he is distracted I jump from the bed and bolt to the door. I can hear him shout but I'm too busy taking in the scents around me. I look left, nothing. I look right, I smell her.

Charging down the halls I turn this way and that as I follow her trail. I feel stressed and angry, to an unbelievable degree. I need her in my sight, in my arms. Her scent leads me to a door, the words on the sign not registering in my mind. I slam it open, spotting her immediately.

"Oh, hey," she smiles as she turns in her chair. She has more to say but I interrupt her. Plucking her from her seat I slam her against my body and bury my face to her neck. I take in her scent, assess her health and the environment. The smell of another makes me stiffen but her fingers scratching behind my ear makes me purr. I can feel my tail wagging behind me.

"Tamed the dog, how cute," someone says. I snap my head to them, nearly growling at my XO. He sits at his desk smug, but still intimidatingly powerful. Though I hold back a sound I can't help but bear my teeth to him.

"Let's not antagonize the pup, alright," Sam jokes. She guides me over to the seats, parting to take her own. Looking from her to the XO I feel the urges again, a primal need to get her out of sight of this male. I shake my head to put myself back into a normal mindset. Reluctantly I sit down.

"Now the excitement is over, Cadet Trevor Galius. You are relieved of training till further notice along with Cadet Samantha Backster," he says calmly. I stiffen at the dismissal, looking at Sam in clear worry. Will she be mad? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, taking her choice away. Sam glances at me with a disarming smile. I remain wary.

"For how long," I ask.

"Till next January, that's when winter training starts. For now, I encourage you two to settle all that needs to be settled before then," he glares over to me," I'd hate to have a repeat of this semester." I wince, looking down at my lap.

"Will this put a delay on werewolves being allowed in the armed forces," I peak up at my XO. He smiles to himself, dropping it quickly.

"I admire your dedication to this cause but no, there be no delay for werewolves. I hope you don't mind too much not being the first one," he answers. Most of my worries melt off at his words. The only person I'm potentially holding back is Sam, no one else has to suffer for my lack of control.

"That won't be a problem, sir," I answer.

With no final notes, we are dismissed. I walk with Sam out into the hall, fidgeting all the while. We walk out of the main building in silence. Should I say something? Is she mad? I pass glances at her, looking for any signs of distress. She gives nothing away.

"Just ask, I know it's killing you," she bites her lip to stop her grin. I fall apart, reaching out and pulling her against me. I can't take not touching her.

"Please don't be mad at me. I didn't want to force you out of training like this but trying to hold back was killing me. I'm so sorry," I whimper into her hair. She awkwardly pats at my back as I apologize.

"I'm not mad," she answers," far from it. I'm rather excited about all this. Like, it's not every day something like this happens."

I recoil from her, confused," you're not mad?"

She shakes her head," no, I actually had some guesses around our second conversation."

I look at her bemused," you did?"

"Yea, I knew about the werewolf mate thing from my cousin. I went to her wedding about two years ago and she was mated to one of your kind. She wouldn't shut up about how they met and the utter romantic garbage she experienced from him," she scoffs," it was almost sickening how sweet they were but I got to learn some signs. You have been tense and full of energy lately. I figured that was normal but you perked up a lot when I showed up. It was really cute. Still, I had some guesses and when you came to the shed it was heavily validated. So in the end, I'm not mad. Lowkey a little happy you didn't do some over the top romantic gestures like my cousin's man did."

I listen to her rant amused and amazed. She knew? A part of me thinks she just had some hopeful thoughts and wanted the signs to be for her. Or maybe I'm not as good as I think at hiding this. Either way, it doesn't matter because she doesn't hate me. She wants me and I can't do anything but be thrilled.

With a snort, I pull her into a kiss, ecstatic with the turn of events. She smiles against my lips, pulling me close. As we kiss a few people walk back, whistling and making sly comments at us. We part, chuckling with one another at their jokes.

"So you aren't mad you have to join back next year," I ask just to be sure.

"Maybe a little," she shrugs," I guess your just going to have to make me forgive you."

I growl, leaning down and nipping at her neck. Her shriek of laughter makes me giddy. I have my mate, and she's perfect.

[ophiuchus-interactive]

Oh Captain, M̴͇͕̻̱͛y̴̢̘͈̱̌̆̋͘͜ ̶̧̞̩̤͗͗̈́C̴͓̰̜͎̐̈͗̑͘ą̷̮̇͗͠͝p̵͕̣̐́t̷͔̜̰̗̀́ȧ̵͇͖̌͌̐i̴͍̒͂n̴̪̼̭̔̃̈͑̓ ?????????

In which ̴t̷h̷e̸ ̵c̶a̸p̷t̵a̵i̷n̶ has a conversation with his y̷̻̔͆e̸̻̞͝o̵̹͛m̷̢̟̈́̈a̵̯͐ǹ̶̨.̸̤̞̋͝-

It was midnight. Not that Valerian could truly tell.

The ship hummed with almost organic rhythm around him. If he sat still for long enough, he could convince himself it was a heartbeat.

Which was why he couldn't sleep.

The commons area had only a single light on at this late and terrible hour- a single bulb, bright and white and unmoved from its fixture.

The The The The The illumination showed only that of the booth, a terribly tacky and dreary leather bench that was stuffed to the brim of cushioning.

Atop the table was evidence of busy lives: Rosalie's greased tools were strewn about and Ophelia's dueling swords sat leaned against a chair leg. Valerian could spot Sergio's brandy glass, tipped over but empty. Peter's mug, Thane's medical journal, and Javier's half-drunk carton of milk were not too far off, either.

It was foreign to Valerian in a lot of ways. So many different lives combined at the commons, each so unique and yet so capable of harmony. Some days Valerian truly wonders how they ever manage to get along, but he catches himself when seeing a scene like this. It was different, but dare he say exciting?

"You're supposed to be asleep, Captain."

He jumped.

The voice came from no singular source- in fact, the voice didn't belong to anyone at all. The artificial intelligence that controls most of the facilities on ship made itself known through the speakers, it's soft, melodic voice a far cry from its robotic, choppy counterparts.

Valerian released a long, deep breath, closing his eyes and placing his hand against his chest. It never feels good to get the daylights scared out of you,

"Sara," Valerian begins, uttering the A.I's name more for himself than as greeting, "you're um- awake."

Silly thing to say. A.I don't s̴͈͂̃́̾́̆l̶͙̖̮͉̹̥̯͐̌͋̅ȅ̶̗͚̃͑̒́̈́̚͘͠͝e̷̝̣̱͆p̷̨̧̺͚̬͍͚͇̣͓̱͒ ̴̡̝̺̎͂̇͐̀͌̿̈s̷̢̤̜̟̣̝̺̯͔͎̦̉̀l̸̹̹͔͙̅̓̇̔͒̎̐̉͂̕͠ḛ̵̼̭̈͊̂̽͘̚͝e̶͓̖͇͓̲̜̱̭̠̎p̸͇͓̺̰̬̥̜̓̾̑ ̶͖͍̝̻͖͚͌̈́͘̕s̷̫̒͋̄͌̕͝ͅļ̵̰̮͙͍͙̣̋̃̒̽̄̕ę̸̬͓̦̰̫̖̦̞̈́̏̀̍̂̋̆̈́͆͘͠ę̵̫̟̰̥͖̼͒͒̈̾̿̇͋͜p̴̧̮̲̦̘̳͐̍ ̴̡̺̃͑̐̽ͅs̷̫͔̞̜͗͗͗͒̀ͅl̴͍̜͠ę̶̯̪̬̀̚ḛ̶̡̛͇̬̜̥̼̹̟͔͚̔p̸̩̩̺͙̫͚͊͋͂̐̂͒̆͘ ̸̧̛̦̟͚̻͒̀̓̇͜s̴̆́͒̎͒̈́̈́͜͠l̶̬̣̖̄̒̎̓̏̂̿͑̉͝ͅe̷͈̗͎̻̘̤͕̋͌̓̂̐̀͝͝e̷̖͎̹̬̐͛̒͗͠p̷̡̢̼̲̤̠̱͔͔̱̈̐̿̀̑ ̴̡̺̩͔̝̖̠̟̫͂̔͊̕ͅŝ̸͍͕̈́͝l̴̩̱̻͍̫̠̣͚̾̽͂̎͐ͅẻ̵͇̙̺̮͈͈ͅȩ̶̰̗̻̼̘̩̱̥͕̾͛̾̈́̉p̶͙͐

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"I am not programmed to a day and night cycle. It is not necessary. But, Captain, protocol suggests that I advise you in your duties as commander of this ship. Sleeping has been known to rejuvenate the mind. It is necessary for your safety, Captain,"

What is also necessary for his safety is not being piloted around by some alien A.I that, if given full control of the ship, would probably fling him and his crew into the sun.

But Valerian ignores that for now.

"Mind turnin' some of the commons' lights on, Sara?"

"Of course, Captain."

The room illuminates in a blink of an eye- the space filling with a white- but still rather dim- light. Valerian blinks his eyes, scratching them to adjust to the sudden lack of darkness that was there moments before.

Stumbling his way toward the kitchen, Valerian opened on of the cabinets, his face instantly twisting into a grimace at the sight of cream of wheat. The next refueling station was a couple days away, which means Valerian was stuck with some of sloppiest, tasteless food known to all creation.

Valerian ignores that, and pulls the box out anyway.

"You do not like your rations, Captain?"

Valerian jumps again, this time clenching the box of hot cereal reflexively,

"It's not my favorite," he admits after a moment, though Valerian feels as if he was truly speaking to no one, "but it'll do, I guess,"

"Javier has saved Hulpora eggs from the previous stop at the refueling station," Sara announces evenly, as if the information was hers to share, "they are in the ice box if you wish for a more pleasing breakfast,"

"And risk his leather-wearing wrath? I'm good, thanks."

Sara said nothing to this, and Valerian thought nothing more of it. The cream of wheat he cooked clung and stuck the pot, the sad concoction more of a paste than anything of edible substance.

He dropped the 'food' into a bowl, and felt his stomach turn as he shoved his spoon into it. The utensil full of slop barely touched Valerian's lips before Sara, out of nowhere, spoke,

"I do not understand, Captain."

Sara's interruption was disruptive enough to cause Valerian to jolt from his place once more, dropping the spoon into the cream of wheat with a slow, slick thud.

Valerian was less concerned about the war crime of a meal that sat before him, and more about what Sara was confused about. It's an A.I, after all, thinking was sort of...their thing.

"Understand, Sara?"

"Hulpora eggs are some of the most nutritious poultry products a human male of your height, muscle density, and species can have. It would be of great benefit to you to have cooked a Hulpora egg, instead."

Valerian nods slowly, the point missing him entirely,

"And?"

"You leave it for Javier. This puts your ability of survival at a risk, does it not?"

Valerian huffs a laugh, "No more than teasing Ophelia for plucking her feathers at the dinner table, Sara."

Silence.

"...That was a joke,"

"Acknowledged," Sara says, "but my point still stands,"

"It's Javier's, Sara. Even if it was better for me in the long run those are his eggs, and besides, he deserves them,"

"I see," Sara says, and Valerian double takes- swearing he heard something akin to being thoughtful in her voice.

Valerian was digging his spoon out of the cream of wheat when she spoke up again,

"That is very kind of you, Captain."

"I try to be," He says absentmindedly, his fingers still digging for the spoon, "wouldn't be in this mess if more people tried to be that way,"

"They are not?"

"They look out for themselves," Valerian explains, "think about their own survival without thinking of another's. Selfish."

Valerian got the spoon out, settling it onto the table, and stared at the mess in silence. He felt tired.

"I am glad I am not capable of having those emotions, Captain," Sara says after a while. Valerian no longer jumped to the sound of her company, "this seems confusing."

"Nah, Sara," Valerian says with a yawn, "ain't nothing to bein' decent, I promise."

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

[raendown]

Just crawling out of my hole real quick to say that no one else used that stupid prompt generator they apparently wanted for @madatobiweek so I did it myself. The one I pulled was “blood”. 

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2500 Rated: T+ Summary: If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

And All That I Loved, I Loved Alone

If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live. The freedom to run, the touch of grass under his feet, the taste of anything that wasn’t plain gruel with its minimum basic nutrients, it was strange how easily the memories faded. Then again, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been here so who was he to say how quickly memories of his previous life should fade? All he knew and all he cared about was that Tobirama had been gone for three winters now. 

This would mark the fourth when it came. Standing in line to receive his morning bowl of slop, Madara cast his eyes to what little sky he was allowed to glimpse and tried to remember the color of the eyes that used to watch him in the night. Red, of course, but what shade? What forgotten fruits and gems had he compared them to when they danced in the glow of torchlight? The air was growing cold again, frost gathering on the manacles that held him in place to sleep at night, and already Madara couldn’t recall the feeling of warm fingers pulling him close. Precious memories and they too were fading. Like so many of the others here liked to say, there wasn’t anything this place would not take from you. Some of the men who’d been worked until their fingers were little more than bone had even forgotten their own names. Madara once vowed to never let himself fall in to that state but without Tobirama everything here was so much harder and after waiting for so long he’d begun to wonder if maybe it hadn’t all been a fantastical dream.

Had he imagined the soft touches, the hoarsely whispered promises? To ask would be to risk knowing.

Several spaces ahead in line, a woman fell, body sagging and crumbling to the side. Her bowl clattered as it rolled away across the rocky ground. Madara stepped around her with everyone else as the line continued onwards, implacable, undeniable. Eventually someone would come to take the body away; he could only hope they got around to it before she bloated and filled the whole area with the stench of rot. Their unwashed bodies were stench enough - or so he’d been told by the latest additions to his work team. Madara couldn’t remember what the world smelled like away from unwashed bodies and the scent of burning metal.

They were building something, that much he knew, but asking questions generally resulted in losing blood and if there was one thing Madara had kept of himself it was that he was a very fast learner. He watched and he learned to keep his mouth shut. He observed and he learned that the guards were unkind to those who met their eyes. He listened and he learned that there really was no way out of this place. 

Maybe he’d imagined it after all. No one had ever escaped this prison, that’s what everyone said. And if no one ever escaped then either his dying mind had crafted the illusion of Tobirama to keep him sane or the man had indeed once been real only to die in making his attempt at the impossible. Madara closed his eyes, shuffling along with the slowly moving line. He supposed it didn’t matter what the truth was. Whatever the case, Tobirama was not here and Madara felt the lack of him in every cell of his body. The few memories of imagining that were left to him were precious, hoarded like secrets to be remembered in the night and soothe him to sleep, dreaming of places his waking mind could never conceive of. Giving up on those little bits of himself were all that kept him from becoming like the wraiths that gibbered in their cells at night and cackled as their bloody hands worked the mines day after day, rattling the air around them with insanity like a siren calls a sailor to their doom. No, Madara was hopeless but he was not quite ready to give in to that.

Eventually. Some day. He knew his fate just as everyone here learned at some point. If they didn’t die from the lack of sun where their prison was sunk just below the earth’s surface then the exhaustion of their daily labors would do it. Madara couldn’t say what they were building, that wasn’t for someone like him to question, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. They could be constructing absolutely nothing just for the sake of punishment and it would all be the same to them, collapsing at the end of every day covered in sweat and dirt and their own filth. Endless cycles that began the day they arrived and ended long after forgetting that they had not always been here. Madara himself struggled to so much as envision a world outside of this place, let alone recall who he might have been, all the places he might have seen. Was Madara even his true name? Only the past would ever know. 

Shouting from one of the farther encampments rose suddenly and Madara ducked his head low in time with everyone else. Any show of interest in whatever was causing such a commotion would be taken as a desire to get involved, something that would no doubt lead to punishment. Everything led to punishment here. It took breaking and reforging in to a shell of shattered pieces to go even one full day without punishment and that was only if you didn’t count their daily labors as a punishment unto itself. The entire line of prisoners before and after him bowed their heads, eyes on their own filthy toes, watching the cold dust rise as they shuffled along in search of food. 

When the noise drew closer Madara wasn’t the only one to squeeze his eyes shut as though hoping he could disappear in to the shadows until whatever nonsense was happening had passed over them. The line moved and he moved with it. Foreign sounds echoed off the rough hewn walls around them but the only thoughts in his mind were reserved for prayers that Cell Block Fourteen would not be denied their morning meal for someone else’s stupidity. 

A flash of light made him flinch away on instinct. Long burns scars on his back had taught him years before to be wary of anyone bearing torchlight. Then it flashed again and he realized it wasn’t dancing the way a flame should. The anomaly was enough to light a spark of curiosity in him that should not still have the energy to live, canting his head in time to watch something rise and fall, catching the light as it did, something long and shining. Not creating light but reflecting it. Madara watched it rise again and the curiosity was there, if dull, to wonder at the dark substance that sprayed from its tip. Strange, he could have sworn there was nothing to dull that shine the first time it raised. The prisoner in front of him stepped forward and Madara drew his eyes away. Not his business. He knew better than to look, he scolded himself. 

Tobirama would have looked. 

It was this thought that left him open and vulnerable to a scream that shook him down to his core, different from the others because this one was close enough to reverberate through his skull, real in a way he couldn’t escape when he looked round a second time just fast enough to watch a long blade slide through flesh and bone to come out stained on the other side, cold steel parting the crest of the guards’ uniform. He wasn’t the only one who looked. Suddenly the screaming was all around him as the line scattered and Madara was just slow enough to get knocked to the ground, nearly trampled in the stampede of terrified prisoners. 

Somehow it was even more frightening from here where the constant thunder of flight knocked him back again and again, unable to regain his feet and unwilling to let his head be crushed. Madara rolled back and forth, dodging the flying limbs as best he could, and counted the new bruises on his legs out of sheer habit. At least these came without the price of blood. He’d had worse. Still, he was glad when there finally came a break in the rush, just enough space for him to roll his feet underneath him and stand. He stood to see a new world descending on the one that had subsumed him more years ago than he knew how to count.

Flashes of steel drew the eyes in too many directions at once. Blood sprayed through the air, stained the dirt and the walls and the heavy armor that marched inexorably forward. Prison guards lay dead and dying in broken heaps. One of them had been pinned to a wall by a long polearm weapon and Madara was morbidly fascinated to see the body thrashing against its own will. Good, he thought distantly, now they will know the pain we felt at their hands. 

And then. Oh and then. 

There he was.

Limned in golden torchlight with a face as implacable as the tides themselves he came, sword in hand, steel in his eyes. Madara knew those eyes. Had looked for them when his world was darkest and dreamed of them when all hope had left him. Had clung to the memories even as they warped and faded. Oh but he knew those eyes and the voice that roared beneath them. Three years apart had put muscle and flesh upon his bones, filled out the body now cased in metal, but Madara would have known him by the corner of an elbow glanced around a corner. 

Tobirama had come. Promises whispered in the dark made real. 

For all the chaos around him and the occasional body that tossed him from side to side Madara could do nothing but stand utterly still and watch as Tobirama cut a path through the bodies in front of him like they were nothing but chaff and shadows, white skin stained as red as his eyes and entirely unbothered by the death he wrought. The sword he carried rose and fell, swooped and slashed, death in the form of a dance, and Madara could not imagine that anything more beautiful could exist in any world. If there were a god then surely they had chosen this man as their avatar on earth, the instrument of their will. In every direction prisoners panicked and guards called out the alarm but in those moments as he watched the rebirth of his own dreams Madara knew safety for the very first time. 

He realized that he might by his very refusal to move stand out from the writhing chaos around them only when he felt a hand close around his throat and a fire he hadn’t known was still there inside him flickered to life. Embers long buried coughing away the dust of imprisonment, both hands coming up to pull at the fingers choking him in a protest he would not have had the strength for only an hour before. Now was different. Now when his eyes fell closed against the fading air in his lungs he knew there was something to fight for, scrabbling and kicking with withered limbs, gnashing teeth when a second hand came around to cover his mouth. The taste of blood was a triumph he hadn’t known in so long he nearly stopped moving just to savor it. 

As the world turned hazy it occurred to him that this might be the end and the thought was not a terrible one despite his instincts to fight. The awakening desire to live. So long he had spent in the darkness, so much time alone and uncertain, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that an end like this would be anything but a victory. Did he not have vindication? Proof that Tobirama was real, alive, that everything they shared had been as true as he remembered in the dreams that gave him warmth through the frosted nights? At least he would die with a kernal of happiness fluttering in his belly like something forbidden. One last grand rebellion to the ones that had made him so miserable for who even knew how many years. 

Oxygen rushed back down his throat so fast he nearly choked on that as well when the hands upon him fell away. Madara coughed through the taste of dust and blood, stumbling back until his eyes could focus again and then struggling to clear his mind, to understand what he was seeing. Shining silver and dripping red. Fear and shock and some instinctual plea for mercy all twisted together in an ugly grimace as the guard who dared to touch him spent his death throes on the point of a steady blade. When the body fell it was gone from his mind as easily as that. What could ever possibly hope to hold his attention with a face like that staring back at him with such adoration?

“You came,” Madara croaked, voice hoarse with disuse and thick with emotion. 

“Did I not promise?” Ah but Tobirama’s voice had always been a honeyed rumble, a caress upon the ear like nothing else. Time and distance had only made his tones all the sweeter. 

His fingers were gentle, even encased in steel as they were, but even if he had been rough and unthinking Madara would have fallen in to his arms just as easily. Because he had indeed promised and he was here now keeping that vow. Keeping the dreams they had spun together alive, weaving new possibilities with nothing but his steady and undeniable presence. 

Trust was not something easily come by in this place where only pain existed. It had been three long years since Madara knew what trust could feel like, the taste of absolute certainty that he could rely on anything but his own efforts. He knew it again now, after three long and endless years, resting his weight fully against Tobirama’s chest and closing his eyes. Chaos strained and flowed around them. Death rang out in echoes that flickered back against themselves over and over and over. Madara knew none of it. His world had been darkness, despair, and desperation, had been struggle, sorrow, and strife, and all of it had been worth it now to feel the arms that circled his waist and pulled him in close, the hand that cradled his neck like something so very, very precious. Tobirama had come. Whatever came after they would face it together again as they had before and that was all Madara could ever - would ever - need. 

In the darkness where once he expected to die Madara learned again what it was to live.