#the kiss was glorious the fucking death devastating

[cdyssey]

i am finally finishing the episode 8. pray for me

[siancore]

Afraid

SamBucky | Explicit | 928 | AO3

Bucky is afraid of his own strength.

Sam has to plead with him. Beg him.

“C’mon, Bucky. Fuck me harder. I can take it. I want it. Fuck me. Hmmmm. Fuck. Harder. Harder, baby. Please.”

How can he say no to Sam? How can he not give Sam was he is asking for? Begging for? So pretty and tight and devastating. Sam just doesn’t know how much Bucky is holding back. How every single thrust is determined yet calculated. How every biting kiss is measured. How every scratch of his nails and drag of his teeth is considered. How Bucky wants to fucking destroy Sam, possess Sam, piece by beautiful piece. How he wants to devour Sam. Swallow Sam. Take him wholly, completely, and have him settle deep down in Bucky’s chest. In his stomach. In his heart; in his soul.

“Shhhh, Sammy. You’re gonna make me come.”

Bucky watches as his cock slips in and out of Sam’s pretty hole, all stretched and open and gorgeous. He wants to fuck Sam harder. He wants to. But he’s afraid to hurt his lovely Sammy. He’s afraid that he’ll go too far. That he’ll fuck his Sammy so good and hard and proper that he’ll tear him apart. That his Sammy will shy away. Retreat. That he won’t let Bucky have him again. That he won’t let Bucky taste and fuck and touch him. Bucky would rather die a thousand deaths than not have Sam.

How can he go on living if he hurt Sam? Knowing what he knows now. Knowing how Sam melts under his touch. Knowing how Sam moans so goddamn lovely. How Sam, his staunch, determined Sam allows himself to be vulnerable with Bucky. How he trusts Bucky. How he opens himself up, spreads himself wide, lets himself be had and fucked and held.

Bucky’s eyes close as he tries to hold back. He is afraid of his own strength. He is afraid of hurting Sam. Of giving in to his own need to take Sam apart. His gluttony for Sam. His desire and greed and want. His intemperance for the other man.

God, he wants to fuck Sam so hard. He wants to wreck Sam. He wants Sam to feel that glorious sting for days after. Wants to make Sam ache. He wants to bruise Sam’s skin. To make his mark. To stake his claim with every single glistening, pulsing, veiny inch of his big, stiff cock. He wants to bury himself inside of Sam. To hide away. To lie with Sam and kiss on Sam and fuck him good and fucking proper.  

“Please, Buck. Please. Harder. Harder, baby. I can take it.”

Bucky’s hips snap forward. He impales Sam. It’s harsh. Hard. Sam cries out.

“Sammy?” Bucky breathes as he ceases his movements. “Baby?”

“I’m good. I’m good. Please, just keep doing that.”

Bucky inches out of Sam’s tight heat and then thrusts once more. He’s almost feral with how Sam envelopes him. Welcomes him. Takes him. All of him. His rigid, leaking cock. His strong, claiming hands. His fractured mind. His broken soul.

Sam is so good for him, all breathless and beautiful. Sam is too good for him. He doesn’t want to hurt Sam. He doesn’t want to. But he might. He just might. If he keeps this up. If he keeps on giving Sam what he is begging for. What he wants. He might go too far. He might grasp onto Sam too tightly. Crushingly. He might not be able to let go. How can he? How can he relinquish this gift that Sam is giving him? How can he surrender? How?

Bucky is afraid of his own strength, but Bucky is weak. He is weak for Sam. For his pretty eyes, dotted with flecks of amber. For his wide, bright smile. For that tiny scar on Sam’s perfect face. Bucky is too strong, but he is so, so weak.

“Flip me.”

“No.”

“I want it from behind.”

“No. Fuck, Sammy. Fuck.”

“Bucky, please.”

“I wanna see your face. I need to see your face.”

He slams into Sam with more fervor. More greed. More desire. He fucks into Sam so that Sam’s pleas fall away; so that there are no words on his perfect lips. Just moans and whimpers.

A steady rhythm of aah aaaah aaaaaaahhh.

Sweat-drenched skin on sweat-drenched skin.

A sucking sound from Sam’s cock-filled hole.

His tight, wet hole. Taking all of Bucky’s length and most of Bucky’s might.

Bucky grips Sam’s thighs more ardently as he pumps into Sam with more determination. It’s too much. He’s going to hurt Sam if he keeps this up. He’s going to – he’s gonna, he’s gonna –

“Gonna come, baby.”

Bucky leans down and kisses Sam’s mouth as Sam’s release coats both of their searing flesh. He comes with a strangled grunt against Sam’s lips. He fills him up. It’s too much. It too fucking much and somehow not enough. They remain pressed together, naked and sated, before Bucky slips out of Sam. Kisses Sam. Rolls to his back and pulls Sam close so that his head rests on Bucky’s chest. He wonders if Sam hears his racing heart. How every beat belongs to Sam. He wonders if his heart tells on him. Tells of his love. He wonders if Sam knows. If he knows that Bucky is afraid. That Bucky is afraid of his own strength. Of the strength of his love for Sam. Because what if his Sammy doesn’t love him back? He is not strong enough for that.

[lesbianologist]

ACTS OF FORGIVENESS [2/2]

word count: 1327 summary: y/n's return to casey.

cw: graphic death of a partner/lover. mega angst. a/n: i'm so fucking sorry dkjglajklgjljsfgkljsglkjsl. you're fully warned in advance that this is not a happy ending. alsoooo: MAJOR kudos to @storiesofsvu for her additions in bold! i couldn’t have written this without my partner in crime angst.

it had been a year and eight months since you’d broken casey’s heart. or rather, 608 days. over six hundred long, excruciating days without her presence in your life, your chest aching during the nights when you’d missed her warm and comforting embrace the most, your legs intertwining beneath the sheets and the duvet of your bed.

the house you’d been staying in sufficed, but it lacked the homely feeling that casey brought in with her aura of absolute sublime sunlight. she was warmth and luminance, all condensed into the beautiful woman you’d married, and nearly every day after hurting her you regretted your words. had it even been worth it?

apparently it had, as you’d taken down the entire network and series of methamphetamine production labs in the process, leaving you with one fugitive who’d managed to slip through the cracks. you and your partner chased after him in a vehicle until it was a complete standoff in the middle of an intersection where he’d ditched his car, hiding behind it to fire shots at the two of you.

it was you, however, that wasn’t paying attention, lost in thought at the prospect of seeing casey again, and thus you who was shot just above your vest, near your subclavian artery.

blood spurt from your chest, soaking your shirt as you groaned out to your partner, who promptly called in for backup as he continued to fire at the fugitive. you felt the world spinning around you as you slipped in and out of consciousness, barely cognizant of him taking the final shot, and of being loaded into the ambulance as it arrived.

prophetic visions of casey danced in your head as you smiled warmly at the cheerful memory of her laughing. you closed your eyes, relishing her soft kisses, the way her touch seemed to illuminate you as if you were absorbing some of her sunlight yourself. as if you two were composed of the same primordial light, two stars from the same supernova.

you were unaware of it as they worked to stabilize you in the OR, reconstructing your artery, that casey had gotten the call about your situation while in court. she was still, of course, your next of kin, and though you’d attempted to shatter her, she held out hope that it was all an elaborate ruse. she was right.

the call devastated her, knowing the gravity of the situation. she urged for a continuance in the trial, was granted it, and raced to the hospital to be by your side when you awoke as they operated. she stayed awake all night, pacing the floor of the hospital, wondering what she’d say to you.

she was finally led in to see you by a wonderfully kind nurse, her heart searching for the right words when it seemed as if her world stopped where you, her wife and soulmate, lay.

everything else evaporated as she watched your feeble body hooked up to dozens of monitors, fighting for your life. you looked so small, so fragile, so inert as you lay in the hospital bed, intubated to allow your body to heal. after a few days, they’d attempted to extubate you without success, your lungs weak from the excessive hemorrhage, prompting more time intubated.

eventually, your body had healed enough to be extubated, the tube being carefully removed from your deep in your chest and down your throat, the nurses making casey aware that if and when you did talk, your voice would be extremely hoarse.

you were incredibly weak, they reminded her, so she should try to remain on topics that wouldn’t agitate you or upset you, keeping you calm so as not to disturb the healing process that had begun with your artery as it was still unbelievably weak.

it didn’t matter, because as soon as you awoke to casey’s glorious face, you began to cry softly.

“please don’t cry.”

“i can’t help it, case. i never thought i’d see you again. but here you are. why?”

“i’m your next of kin. hell, i’m your wife, y/n.”

“but i-” you attempted, the hot tears streaming down your face again, and casey reached out to wipe them gently away, soothing the turmoil that was ripping through you.

“you did what you had to do. it’s okay. i know. i forgive you,” she murmured, the broken part of her whispering beneath the tears that were falling down her face to her chin, her soft pout breaking you again.

you shut your eyes briefly, attempting to fight the tears despite how they flowed easily from your eyes. forgiveness. she had forgiven you, despite the agony you’d put her through, had known what you had attempted to do, and held space for your eventual return should it happen.

no matter what, casey novak was absolutely your soulmate, beyond a word of a doubt.

“i- i need to say this anyway,” you breathed, your chest heavy with emotion and pain. “i’m so sorry. i needed you to be safe. if something had happened to you because of this case i would never forgive myself.”

she couldn’t help herself, interrupting your words with her own, choking on a sob before you had a chance to say it all, “but something happened to you.”

“ssh, baby, please, let me finish. i never stopped loving you. i never stopped choosing you,” you inhaled heavily, breathing in fresh oxygen, suddenly bursting with life again. “i’ve known it was you from the moment we met, from the first time i laid eyes on you. and here we are,” you laughed, the pain knotting in your chest, “and i choose you now, tomorrow, and forever, my love-”

“our vows-”

“let’s renew them now. please.”

“once you’re healed, love.”

tears leapt into your eyes, your throat tightening suddenly as if it was your wedding day all over again, life seemingly flickering through your mind in a radiating stream of consciousness. before, then, and now, blurring together, a seamless transition of tiny memories like mementos, videos chopped together with ease.

“god, i love you so much, casey.”

“i love you too, y/n.”

there it all was in your mind; your first kiss, the first night together, your first date, the proposal, and everything you would have, could have, and should have, melding together. children, a house, a long marriage, growing old together. it all culminated to now, casey’s beautiful face gazing at you with concern lovingly. light seemed to pour into the room and into your body as you watched it all blear together, glazed into one point, one infinite horizon.

“we had it almost,” you whispered, one of your hands reaching for hers, gently lacing fingers together.

“we’ve got it now, baby, and we can renew our vows when you get better,” she murmured back, kissing the tops of your knuckles when she noticed you’d started to go limp, your grip slipping from hers, a vacant look in your eyes.

“y/n? oh my god, no. no!” the machines keeping you alive began to beep irregularly as did the monitors for your heartrate and oxygen. you were completely limp in her arms as she grabbed at you, screaming with agony, hot tears gushing down her face.

“no, no, no! don’t do this to me!” the heartache ripped through her and a nurse had to pry casey off of your lifeless body as she screamed with anguish, leading her out of the room and behind a thick wall of glass as her eyes were glued to the monitor for your heart. she could only watch from outside the glass while they attempted to resuscitate you without success, eventually sinking to her knees as she watched the love of her life slip through her fingers.

one charge, then two, and a third and fourth before the final beep, the end of your life, a steady consistent flatline on a monitor.

“time of death, 8:23pm.”

____________________________________________________

@storiesofsvu @swimmingstudentchaos891 @nocreditinthestraightworld @1000spices @katesgaypain @vincent-millays @wandas-wife @screenee @wandasbrat @anzellla @wall1418 @jesterofrohan @cmmndrwidw @svushots @hoe4almondmilk @lawandorderuswnt @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @dun-duns @narvaldetierra @dextur @dxtery @ms-calhoun @season4scullyhair

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Language, Blood, Death, and Smut.

Chapter 10

You did not want to be back here.

The compound had been your home but it’s colder than before. Much much quieter. And damn near empty.

On the way in you and Natasha don’t even bump into an overly excited recruit like you use to. Almost as if they know what had happened between the team mere hours ago.

You do, however, find Tony, Vision, and Rhodey. The inventor is in his lab tinkering as usual and Vision is just around.

The lack of Wanda’s presence has left the android feeling more than lost.

And Rhodey is in the medical wing. You stop by for a short few minutes to talk with him. When you pull a laugh from him your mood instantly perks up.

Then you and Natasha settle into your room.

You take a shower and change, before collapsing on the bed.

With the quiet of your room swirling around you, you fall into your thoughts.

Mainly, you think about going to see Wanda, all of your friends, but mostly her. Reservations stick with you though. Seeing her with that shock collar on made your blood boil, you hate to imagine how they have her in that cell.

Those thoughts shift to Steve. You couldn’t even begin to guess where he is. Tony have you no explanation of what happened. Just sent a three worded text - They got away.

And that left you even more confused. You had no idea Tony had even gone after them. Why hadn’t he said anything? What did-

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Looking from the cieling, you drag your eyes over to Natasha.

Your eyebrow immediately rises as you shamelessly take in Natasha, who is standing in nothing at all at the bathroom door.

“Uh, every single one of them just flew out the window.”

Natasha smirks, taking small deliberate steps toward you, before throwing her leg over yours. Her hands push against your chest as she straddles you, guiding you to lay back on the bed.

Instinctively your hands meet her bare waist and you lick your lips.

“I’ve missed you” She husks, full pink lips hovering over yours.

“I’ve missed you too Pretty Girl.”

You don’t miss the light blush that coats her cheeks right before she kisses you.

She trails kisses down your jaw and to your neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin she finds. She can’t help but smirk at her handy work, then pushing her hands up your shirt.

Her eyebrow raises at her discovery of you braless.

You blush,“ I wanted to be comfortable.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She shrugs a little, continuing her actions.

Her thumbs trail up the curve of your breast, cupping them, and rolling your nipples between her fingers. Not being able to help herself anymore, she practically yanks your shirt off, placing her mouth where her hands had been.

You moan at the feeling of her mouth on you, pleasure spiking through your body almost dangerously.

“Wait,” you sound breathless and desperate, despite you stopping her.

She pulls back instantly, worried she may have hurt you or overstepped.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Her hands hover over you as if she’s uncertain about whether to touch you or not.

You shake your head,“ no, god, no you didn’t I just-” you rake a hand through your hair,“ should we be doing this?”

“Are you feeling guilty about having sex with me?” Her tone is teasing but she’s also serious, for your sake.

“Kind of. I mean. All this shit is going on and we’re-”

“Y/N, baby, we’ve been through so much these past few weeks and we’ve barely had any time together. I don’t feel guilty for wanting to sleep with you.”

Processing her words, you agree. It’s not the most ideal timing but you haven’t spent any alone time with her, this is your chance to.

“Right. Right. Sorry, I didn’t just kill the mood did I?”

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head,“ not at all.”

As if nothing had happened, she has her lips on you again. This time gliding her fingers down your body and into your shorts.

She brushes over you through you underwear and your hips involuntarily jerk move against her hand. After pressing against you once, a moan slipping from your lips into her mouth, she pushes your underwear aside.

Gathering your wetness on her fingers, she starts to circle your clit. You revel in the feeling it gives you and you bite down on her bottom lip, tugging on it as you pull away.

“Nat, I-” you become even more breathless with each rotation of her fingers.

“What is it baby?”

“I need to taste you.” You sigh, watching her eyes.

She nods,“ if that’s what you want.”

You could’ve cum on the sight of her licking you off her fingers alone.

“Fuck,” you groan, immediately flipping her over.

You quickly rid yourself of your remaining clothes, before diving into her wetness. One broad lick through her folds, before sucking her clit into your mouth.

Her hands grip your hair, pulling you closer to her center, her hips rutting up against your mouth

Enjoying every sound and move you earn from her, you decide to slip two fingers into her. And she takes them with ease.

With every flick of your tongue, you move your fingers faster. You feel your own slick coating your thighs, completely turned on by everything that she is.

“Right there.” She moans as you press your fingers against her spongey insides.

She clenches around your fingers, sucking them back in every time you pull them out.

Like the snap of a rubber band, Natasha comes, quicker than ever before, squirting over your fingers and the bottom of your face.

“Holy fuck!” Her green eyes screw shut as her whole body twitches.

You eagerly drink in all that she has as she grinds through her orgasm.

“Now that,” you smirk up at her,“ has never happened before.”

After evening out her breaths, she looks into your eyes,“ never.”

Instant shock,“ wait, I’m the first to ever make you squirt?”

You try not to get cocky as she nods at you.

Her hand reaches up, and her finger curl around your jaw,“ which I think deserves a reward.”

She’s kissing you immediately after, pulling you flush against her, and then flipping you.

Natasha loves the taste of you, if you couldn’t tell by the eager strokes her tongue makes against you.

Her fingers leave light circles over your clit as her tongue ran through your folds and teased at your entrance. She slips into you with a moan, the vibration eliciting one from you as well.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, one hand clutching the sheets as the other laces with Natasha’s.

You feel her smirk against you, but you’re too far into ecstasy to remark.

Feeling you clench around her tongue makes her increase the pace of her fingers. Her circles brought you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s her tongue, pressing against that oh so glorious spot, that tips you over.

Her name is a repeated breath on your lips as you twitch beneath her.

She licks you through your orgasm, hand having abandoned your sensitive clit.

Your labored breaths cause your chest to heave, fingers uncurling ever so slowly from the sheets and Natasha’s hand.

Finally sobering up, you pull her up your body, and kiss her with fervor.

This was needed more than you thought.

You can’t feel an ounce of stress in your body anymore.

It’s still there, but it matters so much less compared to the euphoria and love you feel right now.

Both you and Natasha pull the covers back and snuggle close underneath. You run your fingers through her, still slightly damp, red hair, and shut your eyes.

The warmth of her body mixed with the warmth of yours.

Neither of you say anything, tired and also happy to have each other.

With her head resting on your chest, fingers brushing over your bare skin, she mutters,“ ya tak tebya lyublyu.”

She doesn’t mean for you to hear those words, what with her saying it while you’re “asleep” and also saying it in Russian, but you do. And you know that she said she loves you.

You hesitate, unsure if she’s ready to acknowledge it. Truly truly be in love with someone. You take a risk.

“I love you too Pretty Girl.” You say.

And you wait.

And wait.

And- she kisses above your heart and tightens her hold on you and you grin like an idiot, sleep creeping up slowly on your ecstatic body.

******

The last thing anyone would expect after a night like that, is to find the bed empty.

You slept soundly the entire night, which you hadn’t been able to do recently, and when you woke up, you cuddled closer to what you thought was Natasha.

Except it was much much too soft. You opened your eyes to see her gone, her pillow in your arms instead of her.

The bathroom door was wide open so you know she isn’t in there.

A glance at the clock shows the bright red numbers 8:15 and you deduce that Natasha is in the gym. She couldn’t sleep in if she tried.

You take a long shower, still relaxed from the previous night’s activities, and pull on the most comfortable outfit you own: sweats and a t-shirt. The outfit, however, isn’t complete until you’re pulling on a hoodie of Natasha’s.

She’s sure to make some sly comment about it but you don’t care, it smells like her and after last night you really wanted to feel close to her.

Before heading to the gym, you stop by the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and fix Natasha one.

Unsurprisingly, you find Tony.

His exhausted form leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on the objects in front of him: his phone, a flip phone, and a tablet.

“Jeez Tony, taking a break won’t kill you.” You joke.

His brown eyes slowly trail from the counter to you. They search your eyes and they don’t find what they had been looking for.

He expected devastation, maybe some anger. You seem far too happy to know what had happened and he hated having to tell you.

“The Raft was broken into last night, Wilson and Maximoff are gone,” before you can reply he adds,“ I also so Romanoff leave earlier.”

You frown, tilting your head and smirking in disbelief. A humorless chuckle escapes you,“ so she went for a run, she’ll be back.”

But that isn’t it. Tony’s face gives it all away. You knew he didn’t mean it casually but you hoped.

“She took the other Quinjet, had a bag, and left her phone on the table.”

Truly, devastatingly, not wanting to believe him, you abandon your coffee and walk into the common room.

Through the window you see both landing pads empty of the jets and a glance at the table reveals Natasha’s phone.

Each step you take toward it is weighed down with your hurt.

If she’s gone gone, why hadn’t she said anything? Did she genuinely not want you anymore? Had last night scared her off? So much so that she couldn’t even say goodbye?

Angry, heartbroken tears pool in your eyes and immediately rush down your cheeks. But you wipe them away harshly.

You grip Natasha’s phone in your hand and the screen comes on as you pick it up.

The, seemingly permanent, frown on your face deepens.

It’s unlocked.

You swipe up.

The password was removed.

Anybody, the dumbest person, could guess that Natasha always kept a lock on her phone.

Paying even more attention, you look closer at the folders on her phone. Each one holding one singular letter underneath.

N

O

T

E

S

Much much too obvious, but part of you thinks that, maybe that’s the point.

Of course she wouldn’t have left without a goodbye. You’d become such an important, vital, part of her life. She loves you.

But she also wouldn’t have blatantly told you she was leaving.

Not after having seen how much you wanted to keep the Avengers together. Her leaving aided the idea of the Avengers breaking up and she couldn’t tell you face to face that she’d be doing so.

Her phone is her hope.

She hopes you find her. She hopes you want to. She hopes that you love her enough to be with her, selfishly, instead of sticking with Tony.

The easy part of it all ends with clicking the Notes app. From there you tap the note titled with your name and find it locked.

Now this is the Natasha you know and love.

Without hesitation, you set toward your room.

Hacking a spies psssord won’t be easy, no matter how much you know about her, so you’d better start now, before whatever information was no longer useful.

******

Tag List: @uglipotata72829 @jumbojamba47 @fayhar @blackwidowromonoff @natasha-danvers @shycucumbersandwich​ @natasharomanoffsbitch-x​ @studywithrosie01 @gorgeyhun69 @imnotasuperhero @peggycarter-steverogers @superwholockedbeauty @jenny-song @confusinggemini612

[sinsbymanka]

20 and 23 sext prompts for vsrricmance . . .but make it varric/shay >.>

For you, anything ❤ For @dadrunkwriting may I present the next installment of... 

The Giant Nug Invasion

Rated: E Chapter: 1/1 Words: 3415 Pairing: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Female Cadash/Solas, Female Cadash/Female Cadash/Solas/Varric Tethras Additional Tags: Shameless Smut, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends Summary: Varric arranges a date night with one of his girlfriends to see a bunch of terrible old horror movies. He's got ulterior motives involving the backseat of his car and a long held fantasy.

Read on AO3

Varric has three problems.

First, if he doesn’t get this show on the row, they’re gonna be late for an evening he’s been looking forward to all week.

Second, Maria’s got that look in her eyes which means she’s in the kind of mood where she’ll forget to do basic things - like eat - in her mad dash to complete her latest project impeccably.

Third, Shay’s out in the living room trying to cajole Solas into joining them tonight after all.

Luckily, Varric’s always been a problem solver. He casts one long suffering look at Maria that makes her nose twitch and her chin raise. “Varric, will you stop fucking babysitting me?”

“You gonna take a break tonight at some point?” he asks smoothly.

He swears her ears are turning as red as the hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. Gray eyes flash and Varric almost gives into the urge to dive headlong into that storm, undo the clip holding her glorious hair up, and pointedly insist she takes that break now.

But he’s got another lady he promised a date to and a sneaky suspicion problem number three can handle problem number two.

“I will shave your chest if you do not get out of here in 10 seconds I swear on my Ancestors, Varric Tethras.”

He throws up his hands in defeat and takes a step back. “Have it your way, Princess.”

Just like he knows she will, she softens at the corners. Her lips tip up and she releases her death grip on her laptop. “Have fun. Really. I’ll be fine.”

“You always are.” He punctuates the statement with a wink and gets a grin in return that still manages to make his stomach clench years after the first time he saw her. He can’t resist leaning in and claiming one soft, almost chaste kiss from her lips.

Well, it’s chaste until Maria nips his bottom lip and the urge to pull her up out of the desk and toss her onto their bed rears its head. She smirks and reaches up, pointedly undoing one extra button on his shirt.

“Go on,” she instructs, brushing her fingers through his chest hair. “Shay’s waiting.”

“You sure-”

Her eyes crackle dangerously in the way he loves most. “Varric…” she warns.

He tucks the memory of her expression, her mischievous grin, and the feel of her fingers away. Then he, wisely, retreats from their bedroom, chest hair still intact.

Their apartment is no sprawling mass, like his parent’s tumbling-down mansion, but it’s not some dingy little box either. The long hallway from the bedrooms leads out into an open space perfect for the times they gather all their friends together. The kitchenette has a counter lined with barstools, a big couch faces the TV, and large windows overlook the busy little college town.

Overall, Varric can’t think of a prettier picture. Especially when he sees Solas on the couch nearly hidden by a curtain of wild red curls.

“Solas…” Shay pleas. “It’ll be fun, I swear. They’re a bunch of old horror movies and you love old things, look at all your grandpa sweaters.”

“Perhaps I am too old for horror films,” Solas points out wryly. “Maria would say my heart can’t take it.”

Perfect opportunity, Varric takes it ruthlessly. “We’ll have to risk it, cause somebody’s gotta take Freckles.”

Shay looks up over Solas’ shoulder immediately, big brown eyes widening. “You’re taking me! Varric, you promised!”

He hooks his thumb over his shoulder back towards the bedroom. “Somebody’s gotta watch Maria or she’s gonna skip lunch, dinner, showering, and probably sleep. You know how she gets when she’s got something due.”

Shay’s bottom lip juts out into an absolutely devastated pout. Varric hardly has to wait before Solas is offering the obvious solution.

“You two wish to go to this event,” Solas snakes his arms around Shay’s torso and smiles into her face. “I can stay and ensure Maria rests.”

Shay sighs, already half defeated, and throws a disapproving glare over Varric’s shoulder. “I wish you’d both come.”

“I really tried to convince her,” Varric shrugs and steps to the side revealing the empty hallway. “You’re more than welcome to take a shot at it, but she’s at ‘threaten chest hair’ levels, so do so at your own risk.”

“It is no trouble, vhenan,” Solas soothes, tucking a curl behind the delicate shell of Shay’s ear. “I will take care of her, you should both enjoy…” Solas actually makes a face that brings a delighted grin to Shay’s face. “The Giant Nug Invasion.”

“And Night of the Arcane Horrors,” Shay supplies eagerly, “and Children of the Elfroot.”

“The best of the worst old movies, Solas. You’re really missing out.” Varric teases.

Solas rubs the length of his nose against Shay’s in an absolutely sappy gesture. “I am sure I’ll hear all about them.”

Shay presses a swift kiss on his forehead before she clambers off her lap, pulling down her short skirt and beaming into Varric’s face. “Well, it’s just me and you then. Up to trouble as usual.”

Oh doesn’t Varric know it.

Varric thanks his lucky stars every day they’ve found the drive-in who does these old movies on off-season weekends. It’s never too crowded, and it’s become a regular date night spot for the group. But when he saw the horror movies advertised…

Well, once there had been an idiotic teenage boy and his beautiful best friend, and the adolescent he’d been had been so caught up in… well, Bianca and her bullshit, he never looked twice at Shay sitting beside him. But he remembers sitting on the couch in Shay’s living room watching the worst special effects on Saturday nights and cracking jokes long into the night.

There’s a lot of things he should have done differently. Shouldn’t have let Bartrand come to that damn party, should have gotten Maria’s shady old boss arrested… should have kissed Shay on the couch in her living room while she was giggling madly beside him.

He intends to make up for it now.

“Do they ever explain why the Nugs bleed green?” Shay is sprawled on an old blanket beside him, her arm on his shoulder. “It’s an odd cinematic choice.”

“Nugs are hallucinogenic,” Varric offers gamely. “That’s where the phrase nug-licker comes from. People used to lick them to get high.”

She laughs and shows an elbow into his ribs. “You’re the biggest bullshitter I’ve ever met, Varric Tethras.”

“Besides you, you mean?”

There’s a gleam of challenge in her dark eyes that makes him suddenly very hungry, and not for popcorn. “I’m innocent, ask anyone.”

“You’re about as innocent as those man-eating nugs, Freckles.” Varric wraps his arm tightly around her, allowing his hand to drift to the hem of her skirt. “And just as terrifying.”

“Me?” Shay bats her eyes just the way that drives him crazy. “Have you met Maria?”

“At least I’d know Maria was about to do bodily harm,” Varric insists. His fingers, still clad in his favorite leather driving gloves, trace a line up her thigh and she shivers, eyes drifting shut. “You look all cute and innocent up until…”

He trails off meaningfully. Shay swallows, hard, and just that little gesture is enough to have his cock traitorously stiffening in his pants.

“Until you see my creepy feet?” she asks, grin full of cheerful bravado.

He lowers his voice and breathes the words against her ear, nosing his way through the thick curls. “Until you’re on your hands and knees begging me to fuck you.”

The tiny, delighted gasp Shay makes is enough to have him rock hard in the next second. “Varric-”

He pulls her up into his lap, facing the gigantic screen in front of them. It’s dark and there’s nobody nearby. He feels safe enough to run his fingers up the inside of her thigh, pushing that little skirt of hers up higher while she shudders.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers against her neck, running his stubbled jaw over the delicate skin. “You and these pretty little skirts, Shay. You’re a menace.”

Just to prove his point she shifts, rubbing her plush ass over the bulge in his jeans until he moans softly in her ear. In retaliation, he lifts one hand to her generous chest and squeezes reverently until Shay chokes on a tiny moan of her own.

“You gonna be a good girl for me tonight, Shay?” he asks, leather-clad fingers brushing over the hem of her underwear. “Or are you gonna be a brat? I’ll enjoy myself either way.”

Before she can answer, he slips his hand under the thin material of her top. Her skin is warm, soft as silk, and the way she shivers underneath his touch has nothing to do with the cool evening air.

“Varric…” she keens softly as his fingers find the clasp of her bra and undo it in one smooth movement. Then her glorious tits are his to peruse. He ceases his teasing touch between her legs only to smooth both hands up her delightful curves until he fills his hands with them.

Her nipples are already rock hard and always so sensitive it takes the tiniest touch to have her whimpering and pressing back into his bulk. He pinches one lightly just as he presses a bruising kiss to Shay’s pale, freckled neck.

“Let’s see how quiet you can stay, Shay.” He rubs his thumbs over her nipples and she gasps softly, writing against him. “If you do a good job, I’ll make you come before we go home.”

“And if I’m a brat?” she asks quietly, barely choking on another moan as he pinches both nipples.

“If you’re a brat, I’m gonna haul you into the back seat of my car and fuck you in it till you beg me to come.”

That does make her whimper, a little sound full of need that goes right to his cock. He inhales greedily against her skin, taking in the scent of her expensive shampoo. She struggles to breathe steadily through his expert ministrations, giving her just the sort of attention Shay craves.

Long, slow, lazy touches that glide up and down her ribs are followed by a rough squeeze, a sharp pinch. Shay whines low in her throat, just soft enough Varric is the only one that can hear her slowly coming undone on his lap. The movie marches on, but Varric isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s got a better show wriggling in his lap against his cock.

“Should have done this years ago, Shay,” Varric murmurs, nipping lightly at her ear and listening to her gasp. “Made all those move nights way more interesting.”

“I wanted you to,” Shay blurts out just as he pinches at her sensitive nipples again. A smug, insatiable bastard inside him springs to life immediately.

“Really, Freckles? You’d have let me do this to you in your cheer uniform?” he asks, pressing a trail of kisses down her shoulder.

“Yes,” she confesses, choking on another groan as one of Varric’s hands drops between her legs again. He strokes her softly through the damp material, listening to her struggle to breathe around her desire. “But you were too on your bullshit-”

His kisses turn a little softer. Apologetic. “I know,” he whispers against her shoulder. “I’m lucky you didn’t move on without me.”

“I did,” she huffs. “I found Solas, and you had Maria. She needed you.”

Maria needs him, and he needs Maria. They do terribly apart, that’s true, but he also needs Shay like he needs the air in his lungs, needs Solas like he needs fresh water.

His fingers circle over her aching clit through the material and she whines again, bucking into his touch to chase him as he teases her. “I’m lucky we all figured it out. Not sure we’d have done it without you.”

“Probably not,” Shay replies smugly.

And it’s attractive, he’s not gonna lie. Varric has always loved confidence in a woman, and nobody wears it as well as his girls, but…

Well, it’s a point of pride that when his fingers sneak beneath her underwear all the breath rushes out of her lungs. It’s even better when he runs his fingers past the soft curls hiding her folds he finds her soaked.

“Swear somebody has been sitting here waiting for me to have my way with you.” He whispers, slipping one finger into her dripping cunt. He feels her go tense in his arms, feels all the moans building in her throat beneath his lips. “Maker, Shay, you’re so wet I bet I could fuck you right now.”

“Please,” Shay finally breaks as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of her, feeling her muscles flutter and clench around him. “Please. I want you to fuck me in your car. Hard. Fast. Now.”

Varric has never heard a better plan in his life, but he pretends to consider it for a couple minutes while Shay begins to ride his finger like the needy little slut she is.

“You’ve been surprisingly quiet, Freckles. Guess we can cut you some slack.”

Shay’s out of his lap like a rocket, tugging her skirt down just enough to cover that perfect ass of hers. She reaches down for his leather duster, fists both tiny hands in it, and tugs him up with all her strength before slotting her lips over his eagerly.

Varric pulls her tight to his chest and loses himself in the feel of her lips giving beneath his. Their tongues slide against each other and Shay sways into his embrace like a princess swooning into his arms.

He knows it’s a little bit contrived, but it’s a damn fine show, and one he can’t resist. In the next moment he spins her around until her back is against the car and his leg is between hers. She eagerly pulls herself against it, riding his thigh, desperate for friction.

Varric’s almost tempted to drag it out, but his cock throbs with needs, and he’s had this fantasy far longer than he wants to admit. Him. Shay. The backseat of Bianca. He intends to thoroughly enjoy the reality.

His fingers scratch against the door handle before he rips it open. Shay makes a noise of protest as he pulls away from her mouth, the look in her eyes pure hunger. He grins and jerks his chin to the car door. “Ladies first,” he says.

Varric sends a little prayer of gratitude to the Maker for the view of Shay’s pert ass diving into the backseat before he follows her. The door barely clicks shut before she’s back in his lap, struggling to find the right angle in the narrow backseat.

In her haste, Varric watches her head whack against the roof of the car. She swears under her breath and he winces sympathetically, catching her round cheeks in his broad palms. “Hold up before you damage your hair, Freckles.”

“Car sex looks so much easier in the movies,” she complains, rubbing at her head with one hand while the other rests lightly on his shoulder. Varric stares into her beautiful, beloved, face with a certain sort of awe.

He’s a lucky man, and he only feels luckier when Shay’s hand travels up his neck to brush his jaw. “Is this why you didn’t want Maria and Solas to come?”

He’s been caught out and he knows it, so he doesn’t bother lying. “Backseat isn’t big enough for all of us, unfortunately. And I’ve wanted you back here for a long damn time, Shay.”

She leans in, brushes the tip of her nose against his broken one, and smiles. “I’m here now.”

She is, and there’s no need to wait. He holds onto her waist with one palm while the other reaches down to undo his belt and zipper. Shay’s small fingers comb through his chest hair while he moans and struggles to free himself. By the time he actually does, he’s near cross-eyed with want.

“Ready, Freckles?” he pants, pushing her underwear aside.

“Yes,” she whines, rolling her hips as best she can. “Please.”

He doesn’t make her beg. Instead, with one grip on her hip and the other on his cock, he guides himself into her slick cunt. She gasps and then moans as he slowly, slowly, sinks into her. By the time he’s hilted inside, she’s trembling like a leaf in a storm and he’s breathless with the strength of his own need.

“Hold on,” he orders, pressing another kiss on her neck. “Hold on, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you just the way you like.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Shay’s sharp cry is so loud Varric yanks her down to muffle them in his shoulder while he hammers up into her. She’s so goddamn tight, so perfect. This is everything he’s wanted, the pinnacle of all his filthy schoolboy fantasies minus the cheerleading uniform, and it’s somehow better than he ever thought it could be.

Because it’s Shay, and he loves her. He always has, and he always will.

She sobs against his shoulder, strung tight as a bow under his rough fucking. His name is a chant in her mouth, whispered against his skin, his ear. He reaches down between them and brushes his fingers softly over her aching clit in a way that gets her nowhere while teasing at everything.

“Tell me you wanna come on my cock, Shay.” He murmurs into her wild curls. “Tell me you want me to fill you up, that you want my come running down your thighs.”

“Yes…” she whines, nails digging into his shoulders. “Varric please.”

She’s so desperate, so heart wrenchingly sincere, he can’t help but give into her. When she’s begging so sweetly in that tone of voice, he may damn well give her anything. She’s so close to the edge, wound so goddamn tightly, it hardly takes but a few strokes of his leather clad fingers before she’s muffling her cries in his shoulder and clenching around him like a vice.

He loses it and thrusts into her with a snarl as she’s still riding her high, taking her with almost brutal intensity while she wails and clings to him. Within minutes he’s following her, shooting into her warm, willing cunt while his hips still buck beneath her.

He falls back into the backseat of his car, exhausted, and pulls Shay into his embrace. They stay like that until he can breathe easily again, until she’s stopped trembling in his arms.

“Varric?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, Freckles?”

“Can I tell your ex about this?”

Varric huffs a laugh and holds Shay just a bit tighter. “Bold of you to assume Maria didn’t beat you to this same exact thing.”

Shay giggles softly. “I think three of us could fit back here. At least.”

“We’ll try it someday,” he promises, kissing Shay’s temple. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

They arrive home late, but the lights are still on when they open the front door into the small entranceway. Varric chivalrously takes Shay’s coat and she stretches, wandering into the living room.

Varric follows in time to catch Maria and Solas breaking apart. Maria’s up on the counter, wearing nothing but one of Solas’ sweaters hanging enticingly off one shoulder. Solas is bare chested, nothing but that ridiculous necklace of his hiding his lean form.

There’s something bubbling on the stove behind them, but it’s almost midnight, and he swears if they’re just now eating dinner he may scream.

“How was Attack of the Giant Nugs?” Maria asks over her shoulder with a soft, indulgent smile.

“The Giant Nug Invasion,” Shay corrects, “and the nugs were far too cute and innocent. Ask Varric.”

“Except for their creepy feet and ridiculous hair,” he adds.

Shay squawks and turns to slap him on the chest and Solas dips to place one last kiss on Maria’s forehead before he pulls away.

“I made Solas make me grilled cheese and tomato soup,” Maria explains, smirking. “You two hungry?”

“Absolutely ravenous.” Shay bounces up to the counter and clambers up on a barstool, kissing Maria’s cheek. “How’s your project going?”

Maria opens her mouth to answer and Varric just takes a moment to take them all in.

He’s a lucky man, he really is, and he intends to stay that way.

[blu-eh]

quaranteens

[AO3]

Or: a day in the life of the quarantined high school spider-kid.

Cindy Moon thinks she knows weird. 

New York has always been a little strange on its own—there’s a reason it’s so well known despite the general vastness that is the entirety of America. Still, the rise of superheroes and supervillains when she was a little girl had been a punch in the face. Aliens had been more of a straight-up knockout at the time. The Avengers formed and, yeah, that has been somewhat of a wild ride because now there is always something happening in New York. Still, those somethings are usually handled by at least one of the wayward superheroes who now live in the city she calls home. 

Until they weren’t. Like half the population of the universe, she just up and died for about five years before they were suddenly resurrected and thrown into a world that they didn’t really belong to anymore. If aliens were a knock-out, she's not quite sure how she'd describe the previous months of absolute anarchy. 

It’s alright, though, because eventually everything calmed down and life is back to its normal amount of weird. Social media is currently bopping because she (like half the population) had missed five years’ worth of memes and are desperate to learn. Even now, eight months later, she still hasn’t caught up totally. She still goes to school in the morning. She says hello to the friends that were blipped with her (and says goodbye to the ones that weren't). There are other happier things, too, like that time she caught Spider-Man on the rooftop singing some offbeat pop song. He spent the better part of an hour desperately trying to get her to delete the shaky video she took while trying not to laugh. 

(She posted it anyway. It had almost half a million views by the time the week was over.)  

So, yeah, Cindy is pretty confident she knows weird. 

You can imagine her reaction when the quarantine started. 

No one is quite sure what caused it, exactly. Cindy had spent late nights on google like any other reasonable person trying to find an answer for why all of New York and most of the east coast has to be locked up in their homes for the foreseeable future. There no certified answer, really, but Cindy can pretty safely assume it’s probably something supervillain-related. That, or it’s aliens again. 

(She really, really hopes it’s not aliens.) 

The reason doesn’t change the outcome. Work and schools close. No one is allowed to leave their homes or apartments. Teachers spend exactly a week setting up online classes, and Cindy very much enjoys that break, before she’s forced to attend first-period chemistry at exactly seven-thirty in the morning online. If that isn’t enough to certify a horrifying start to her day, then the mandatory ‘video cameras on at all times’ rule certainly would. 

But that’s all fine. It’s whatever. Video cameras on at seven-thirty for online classes might really suck, but there are some exciting things about it too. Mainly, Cindy can now confirm her theory about how Suzan hasn’t outgrown her middle school horse girl phase given the number of horse pictures still hanging up on her furthest wall. Or there’s that fact that Flash’s apartment is always strangely empty and startlingly clean despite being so absurdly big and nice. Or that Abe’s bunsen burner collection next to his bed makes him a nerd with a capital N. 

So, it’s not all bad. She’s known her classmates (or, at least, she's known half of her classmates) since they were all young, but even she has never really interacted with them in a situation like this. Being stuck in quarantine with everyone else lets her see just a little bit closer into everyone’s lives.

This all leads back to the most crucial point—Cindy Moon knows weird. And Peter Parker? Yeah, Peter Parker is weird. 

Peter’s life is no mystery to most of Midtown School of Science and Technology. Especially not to Cindy, who’s known him since they were both toddlers in the same preschool. He’s not exactly subtle in any way, either. She knows about how he lives with his aunt in Queens, and, subsequently, his uncle’s untimely and incredibly devastating death. She knows how he’s a nerd that likes school, how he wears science pun t-shirts every other day, and how he’s just about as close to a teacher’s pet as you can get while being the school’s greatest genius slacker. 

She also knows that he mysteriously got jacked their freshman year of high school, and no one could ever explain why. Something happened, then, because he quit a lot of their shared activities. Robotics club had been the first causality, but it doesn't stop there. He started getting into furious whispered conversations with Ned more frequently in the hallways when they both thought no one was there. He started skipping decathlon practice not long after, which was perhaps the most startling given how dedicated he had been to decathlon previously. Sometimes he comes in with a limp or sloppily done makeup to cover up a bruise, only for it to disappear the next day. Cindy is also pretty certain she isn’t making up the time, right before the blip, that Peter had seemingly disappeared off a moving bus right as the aliens started attacking. 

Peter Park is weird. This isn’t new. 

However, what really ties this all together is that Cindy might not know everything about Peter Parker, but even she’s fairly convinced his little apartment in Queens is not supposed to look like a log cabin disguised as a mansion. Yet, every morning when she logs onto Zoom for their shared seven-thirty chemistry class, Cindy can definitely make out the beautiful finishes of a massive kitchen with beautifully crafted wood cabinets and a stunning view of the lake through the kitchen window. If Cindy’s paying attention enough, sometimes she catches the blurry image of a toddler running around at seemingly random intervals. 

Flash is convinced he’s using a background filter to make himself seem cooler. Cindy is not so sure. 

It takes another week of Zoom University, but the reality of the situation comes crashing down in perhaps the most spectacular fashion. Cindy’s seen a lot of soap operas and medical dramas recently, but absolutely nothing compares to the glorious spectacle that is Peter Parker’s life. 

Like most of this weird form of a quarantine adventure, it starts in the regular seven-thirty AM Zoom chemistry class. There’s nothing specifically remarkable about this chemistry period—the most interesting thing so far is how fast the majority of the class had forgone any sense of getting ready in the morning. Even Brad Davis, who has been trying to impress MJ for the better part of the year, did nothing more than roll over and turn on his camera when asked. Cindy herself barely makes it to her desk in her PJs in time for class to start. It’s only MJ, who somehow manages to get up at the ass crack of dawn every morning and still manages to look perfect in time for class, and Peter, who’s still sitting in that picaresque kitchen, that even try to look like they’re ready for the day. 

Mr. Cobbwell commented on it the first couple of days to get them a little more motivated to be presentable. Now, even he looks like he’s barely holding it all together. It’s truly remarkable how a single Zoom class can expose man's fallacies in such a blatant and brutal manner.  

So life continues on. The first part of the class is normal—Cindy's not quite sure what they're learning about but she'll probably figure it out by the time the second test rolls around. Then the toddler runs behind Peter Parker’s screen.

That in itself isn’t wholly unusual. Cindy’s not quite sure where Peter is, exactly, but the toddler isn’t anything she hasn’t seen before. In fact, the toddler has made quite a few (adorable) appearances over the last two weeks. The most notable one being the time she ran screaming behind Peter while Peter had been asking a question and Peter never once batted an eye. 

This time, it’s the man that comes running in after her that gives Cindy pause. He scoops her up and says something that Cindy can’t hear due to the mandatory mute rule that Mr. Cobbwell had imposed on them last week after someone’s parents got into a screaming match (swearing and all) halfway through the lecture. He holds her on his hip, kisses her forehead, and almost immediately zeroes in on Peter's computer screen. 

This man isn’t someone Cindy recognizes right away despite the ringing familiarity in her head. She squints, trying to figure out where she’s seen this man and his toddler before and why Peter is in this man’s house and/or why this man is in Peter’s house. 

The man turns around to face the camera—arm full of toddler and everything—and Cindy finally makes out the fashionable goatee, oil-stained t-shirt, and actual arc reactor in his chest before she makes the connection and bites one her tongue to keep from shouting in surprise. 

No way. 

She’s not the only one who’s noticed, either. Mr. Cobbwell (bless his soul) is still droning on about moles or something equally unimportant. The rest of the class, though? Yeah, the rest of the class has noticed if the wide-eyed looks and subtle glances in the direction of Peter’s screen are anything to go by. The tension on the Zoom call is almost palpable. 

Peter himself remains blissfully unaware of the entire situation. Cindy wants to scream.  

Absolutely no fucking way. 

The man—Cindy doesn’t want to call him who she thinks he really is because it makes absolutely no sense for that man to be in Peter Parker’s home—doesn’t stay for very long. He ends up wandering out of the camera’s sight not thirty seconds later—she’s not quite sure, but she thinks he might’ve winked before he left too. More than half the class has definitely taken a screenshot by this point. Herself included in this list. 

It’s almost agonizing, having to sit in her uncomfortable desk chair and not say a word. It’s not like she can unmute herself and start what will definitely be the wildest Zoom class fight of the twenty-first century. Mr. Cobbwell probably wouldn’t appreciate her interrupting his stoichiometry equations, the mystery of the Tony Stark lookalike or not.   

She doesn’t have to wait for long, though. Whatever stars are smiling down upon her, Mr. Cobbwell ends up being forced to take an emergency phone call. Cindy bides her time until the exact moment that Mr. Cobbwell had muted himself and walked away off-screen before she furiously unmutes herself. 

“Peter fucking Parker,” she says. Peter’s head snaps up so fast that it almost looks inhuman. “Did Tony Stark just waltz in and pick up his child in the background of your Zoom call?” 

Peter freezes. Wide-eyed, with ‘guilty’ written on his forehead in 72, bold, Times New Roman font. It takes a solid thirty seconds before he can put himself together enough to click the unmute button. 

“I—no?” Peter says. His voice is startlingly high pitched, and his expression is nothing short of horrified. 

Damn, if that isn’t anything but a confession. 

There’s a voice in the background that’s too garbled to make out, but Peter quickly mutes himself and turns his camera off despite the mandatory camera-on rule that had been in place for the entirety of the founding of Zoom university. Two messages come through the Zoom chat before Cindy has the chance to wrap her head around the entire transpired interaction.

[Peter Parker]:  Sorry, Mr. Cobbwell. My mic and video aren’t working. 

[Peter Parker]:  I think I have a bad connection.

Cindy’s not the only one who finds this bullshit if the look on Flash’s face, in particular, is anything to go by. The rest of the class simply watches this entire interaction with wide eyes. Considering this is the most interesting thing to happen to most of them in the last two weeks, Cindy can’t really bring it in herself to blame them. 

“Peter,” Cindy says, loudly. “Just because you muted yourself doesn’t mean you can’t hear me. What the hell was that?” 

There’s no answer. Not even a chat message comes through. 

Cindy’s about to rip into him again, peanut gallery and all, when Mr. Cobbwell decides to make the most inopportune appearance in the history of teachers walking into classrooms at bad times. Truthfully, this one would go right up there on the top of a compilation of worst teacher entries. 

“What happened to Peter?” Mr. Cobbwell says. He reads the messages in the class Zoom chat. “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Peter, let me know if you need any help or continue having trouble before the next class.”

[Peter Parker]:  I will. Thanks! 

Cindy doesn’t get the chance to wring more answers out of Peter before the class period ends. He’s the first one to leave, lack of camera appearance and all. Cindy logs into her next class confused, and frustrated, and oddly excited all at once. 

                                                            ---

The next morning, Cindy is the first person to log onto the Zoom call for first-period chemistry. 

She’s not the only one who has this idea. By the time seven am rolls around—a full thirty minutes before class is even set to begin—over half the class is in the Zoom call. It’s no secret that Peter liked to join Zoom calls early, and everyone’s more than a little curious after the events of yesterday morning. 

Like clockwork, Peter joins with his camera working at exactly seven-fifteen. He takes one look at the almost-full meeting, does a double take, and scrambles for something on his computer.  

Cindy narrows her eyes. “Peter, if you leave this Zoom call, I’ll have MJ eject you from the decathlon team.”

“MJ wouldn’t do that,” Peter says but he doesn’t sound so sure.  

“That all depends on how convincing her argument is,” MJ says. Her camera isn’t even on. 

The look Peter gives her is so full of betrayal that Cindy almost wonders why he isn’t on the acting team. 

(Then she remembers that Peter has commitment issues on a good day and, well, acting has never really been his thing. He can’t even lie with a straight face, and considering most of what comes out of his mouth this day and age is a lie, it's probably for the best that the idea is never considered again.) 

“Why are we even here? It’s a background,” Flash insists. “He just coded it or something for attention.” 

“Flash, shut up,” Suzan says. 

“Yeah, okay, Flash. Why are you even here if you think it’s a background?” Cindy shoots right back, full of adrenaline from the Tony Stark-shaped mystery that’s being hung above all of their heads. 

“No, no, no. Flash is right,” Peter says immediately. “It’s a background. I had Ned help me code it and everything.”

Ned’s in the meeting, but his camera is off, and his mic is muted. Cindy gives Ned a moment to speak up and confirm but there’s not even a twitch. Cindy turns her pointed look back to Peter. 

“I said,” Peter says louder. He subtly glances in the direction of the list of names currently in the meeting, “That I coded that background with Ned!” 

Ned doesn’t come on to confirm or deny. If the look Peter is sending the Zoom call is any indication, he knows that there will be no help from that corner of the room. Either Ned is watching this all go down with popcorn in his hand like the rest of the class, or Ned is AWOL and won’t be returning in time to save his best friend from getting his ass absolutely grilled. 

“Right,” Cindy says dryly. “Peter, you are the worst liar in this entire class.” 

“It’s a coded background,” Peter insists. “That’s all it is. It’s a coded background.” 

                                                         --- 

 It’s not a coded background. 

Peter doesn’t log on early the next day. In fact, he logs on a full five minutes late and gets a snide remark from Mr. Cobbwell for his efforts. His camera is on, at least, and Cindy knows he sees her glare if his paling face is anything to go by. 

I will find out, she mouths at him. 

She’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand the exact words she said, but her vibes are not hard to guess. He gives her a wide-eyed stare and shakes his head in defiance. 

Well. No one can say that Cindy never liked a challenge. 

This time, though, she doesn’t even have to wait until the end of the class period to get more information. Peter does that all for her. 

Peter’s unmuted. He had just finished giving Mr. Cobbwell a (correct) answer to the latest chemistry question when there is a thunk sound from his side of the line. Peter glances up, seeing something that isn’t in the camera’s line of sight, and his expression drops so fast that Cindy’s not convinced he’s seen a ghost. 

“Who is that?” a voice says. It sounds strikingly familiar. “Peter, are you chatting with your school friends?” 

“No,” Peter whispers in poorly disguised horror. 

“Well, well, well,” the voice says and, oh god, it’s so familiar. “What do we have here?”

Peter lunges for his computer. He turns off his camera and mutes himself before Cindy can even think of a proper response. There’s silence in the Zoom call. Even Mr. Cobbwell can’t find it in himself to reign in the class and break the absolute grappling stillness that is currently holding the entire first-period chemistry class. 

It’s all of thirty seconds before Peter’s camera flicks back on. This time, he isn’t alone. 

Cindy might have thought about it, and she’s reasonably convinced that she’s right about the entire situation, but truthfully nothing could prepare her for the emotional whiplash upon seeing The Anthony Edward Stark pulling up a chair at the beautifully carved wooden table and plopping in a seat directly next to a red-faced Peter Parker. Tony Stark takes it all in—the leftover Zoom chats from those kids that don’t want to unmute themselves to ask a question, the half-finished equations written on Mr. Cobbwell’s shared screen, and the twenty-something high school kids staring at him with a combination of confusion and awe. 

“Good morning to Peter’s class and friends,” The Tony Stark says. Peter’s face seems to get redder and redder. “What a wonderful day to continue the education of the youths.” 

Ned turns on his camera and unmutes his mic. “Hi, Mr. Stark, sir! 

“Hi, Ted,” Mr. Stark says. “Good to see you again.” 

“OhmygodMr.Starkalmostknowsmyname—"

Peter buries his head and lets out the world's most pathetic whining noise. 

“I—,” Mr. Cobbwell stutters out. “Mr. Stark, what are you doing…here?” 

It’s a very eloquent way of asking why the hell are you in the house of one of my students? Cindy has to give him props for not being a stuttering mess. She’s not quite sure she could form actual words currently, even if she tries. 

“I love disrupting important conversations,” Mr. Stark says. Cindy’s pretty convinced that he’s purposefully playing ignorant. “And I was curious to see what Peter here was doing at so early in the morning. So, what’s on the lesson plan today?” 

“Well,” Mr. Cobbwell says. What’s he going to do, tell the Tony Stark to leave? No sane person would even try. “Today, we are working on balancing equations.” 

“Basic stoichiometry,” Mr. Stark says. He’s ignoring Peter very obviously pushing on his shoulder. “I would say I’m rather adept at that, right, Peter?”

“Not really,” Peter says. 

The Zoom chat starts blowing up. No one wants to verbally get in the middle of what is possibly the most interesting thing to ever happen to them. This is including the time where half the population died for five years. 

[Abe Brown]: can someone PLEASE explain whats going on

[Zach Cooper]: honestly dude if any of us knew i think we would tell you

 “Right,” Mr. Stark says. He stands up and lets himself be pushed a little further away by Peter. “I have to do other things right now—very important work things that pertain to the safety of the universe and whatnot—"

“Mr. Stark, you’re retired,” Peter says. 

“And you’re in class,” Mr. Stark says. “But feel free to send me an email if you ever want a guest lecturer. Well, send Peter an email and I’ll respond through that. Probably.”

[Betty Brant]: does this mean peter was telling the truth about the internship? 

[Sally Avril]: whos gonna tell flash

[Flash Thompson]: shut up. i can read

[Sue Lorman]: what are your current feeling, flash?

[Sue Lorman]: ….flash you there?

[Sue Lorman]: you know we can see you camera on right

[Sue Lorman]: ope he turned if off lmao

Mr. Cobbwell gaps, unable to come up with a proper response. Peter’s looking somewhere off-camera with desperation bleeding into his expression. 

“Mrs. Potts,” Peter says. His voice pitched upwards, almost as if he were whining to Pepper Potts, which of course, Cindy thought of as ridiculous. After all, common sense dictates that no one would ever whine to the Pepper Potts.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” a voice says off-screen and, yeah, Cindy has seen enough of the #1 woman CEO’s interviews to be able to recognize her voice. “But you and I both know that it was only a matter of time before he made an appearance.” 

Peter puts his head back in his hands and looks like the picture perfect definition of someone how has tried to fight with the logic of the universe and lost spectacularly. Ms. Potts steps into the view of the camera for the firt time, just as beautiful and as striking as every interview Cindy has managed to get her grubby hands on. 

“Tony,” Ms. Potts says. “Why don’t you go get Morgan some breakfast?” 

It’s not a suggestion. Mr. Stark doesn’t take it as a suggestion either. He gets up so quickly that it’s almost like he had never been there to begin with. 

“I’ll sort this out,” Ms. Potts tells Peter. Then, to the rest of the class, “I’m incredibly sorry for my husband’s disruption. I’ll make sure he doesn’t interrupt further so you can finish your class.” 

Class had ended almost ten minutes ago and almost everyone will be late for next period, but no one tells her this. 

She leaves them after that—Peter still hasn’t removed his head from his hands, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to join the world of the living any time soon. Cindy takes this as the perfect opportunity to maybe-finally figure out the mystery that is Peter Parker and Tony Stark. 

(Because as much as she loves being right—and, oh man, this is definitely going on her resume under ‘amateur detective'—this entire situation only leads to more questions than it does answers. Mainly how the fuck does Peter Parker even know Tony Stark? Why is he spending quarantine in that house? How does someone like Peter Parker even get there in the first place?) 

[Cindy Moon]: alright which of you has peter’s contact info because We Need To Chat

[Peter Parker]: we really don’t

[Ned Leeds]: i have it

[Peter Parker]: ned.

[Peter Parker]: ned don’t you dare

[Sue Lorman]: guys this is the class zoom chat

[Sue Lorman]: everyone can see these messages

She almost forgets Mr. Cobbwell is still in the meeting, so you can imagine her surprise when she looks up to see him reading the Zoom chat. 

“I think,” Mr. Cobbwell says. “That we will end the lesson there for today.” 

[Cindy Moon]: sweet

[Cindy Moon]:  hmu if you want to be added to this new

[Cindy Moon]:  hmmmm

[Cindy Moon]:  lets call it a study group that im making

Half the class joins within fifteen minutes of Cindy making it. She’s never been so proud in her life. 

                                                       --- 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: oh no

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station 

[Cindy Moon]: no you dont

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: please dont do this to me

[Cindy Moon]: you brought this upon yourself 

[Michelle Jones]: spill, parker

[Peter Parker]: mj you literally already know

[Michelle Jones]: i mean, yeah, but i really like watching you squirm

[Peter Parker]: why are you and i friends again

[Michelle Jones]: i don’t know, loser. why are we?

[Ned Leeds]: because peter thinks youre really cool

[Peter Parker]: ned i love you but i am actually going to toss you into the hudson river one of these days

[Ned Leeds]: :(

[Flash Thompson]: this is literally disgusting 

[Michelle Jones]: Then Leave

[Peter Parker]: you know for a sec i completely forgot about this entire chat

[Peter Parker]: so im just gonna,,,,

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: bro.

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: PETER

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

[Abe Brown]: honestly i don’t know why i expected anything different

                                                        --- 

The next day, Cindy is yet again the first person in the Zoom meeting. Yet again, Peter doesn’t show up until some five minutes or so after the 'tardy' bell rings. 

Unfortunately for Peter, Mr. Cobbwell is also running late that day so he gets the full brunt of a curious class of twenty or so students who accidentally saw Iron Man on a Zoom call and not once got an answer as to why. Only about a third have their cameras turned on, likely because it’s seven-thirty in the morning and no one actually wants to be here but curiously is a dangerous thing. However, very, very few are muted. It’s as if they’re predicting the argument that is undoubtedly going to take place and are just waiting to jump in like the hungry pack of drama-feeding sharks that they all are. 

Peter takes all of ten seconds to notice the silent tension. He yet again freezes on the spot. “…Where is Mr. Cobbwell?”

“He’s late,” Suzan says. “Like you are.”

“Oh, great. Uh, I guess I'll be taking my leave—"

“—Oh, no, Peter. You are going to sit your little white boy butt down and explain why Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are in your house,” Cindy pauses and then, “Or are you in their house? Do you even own a house? This is confusing.”

“Why would I own a house?” Peter says because of course that’s the part he gets fixated on. “I live right in the middle of Queens.”

“Well, obviously not right now,” Abe Brown says. 

Peter bites his lip and goes silent. Cindy wishes they had class in person so she could wring the answers from him personally. 

“Peter,” she says slowly. “The quicker we get an explanation, the quicker we stop harassing you.”

“You could just stop harassing me to begin with and forget about it,” Peter offers helpfully. Some of the class boos. Peter ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. 

“That's not happening and you know it.” 

“I—ugh, fine,” Peter says. He doesn’t meet their eyes and instead chooses to fiddle with his notebooks in front of him. Cindy knows this is a lie before it even comes out of his mouth. “I’m, uh, I’m here for my internship?”

It comes out more of a question than an actual answer. He still doesn’t meet their eyes. Cindy sends him a look that’s so unimpressed that she can see the exact moment that Peter’s eyes flicker towards the 'leave Zoom meeting' button. 

“Peter,” she says. “Stark Industries is currently shut down, like the rest of New York, because we are in quarantine. Also, internships don’t usually constitute internees going to their mentor's houses to attend online school. So if you are going to lie, at least make it believable.”

Peter gives her a look of utter horror and turns off his camera. 

“Peter!” she hollers. “You can’t run forever! I know you can still hear me!”

“I knew it,” Suzan Yang says, quietly. There’s something like muffled laugher that comes from MJ’s computer. 

Peter is saved by some ungodly force of nature because Mr. Cobbwell takes that exact moment to log into the meeting. Cindy puts on her perfected look of an innocent high schooler and greets her chemistry teacher at ass o’clock in the morning just as she does every day. 

(If she sends a particularly vicious look towards the black square labeled 'Peter Parker' at the top of the screen, well, no one can really blame her.)

Peter never once turns his camera back on. 

                                                           --- 

[Jason Ionello]: anyone want to take bets on why peter parker knows tony stark or

[Flash Thompson]: i still say its fake

[Betty Brant]: flash the only one youre fooling is yourself

[Betty Brant]: peter did say he had an internship 

[Cindy Moon]: weve already debunked the internship theory

[Betty Brant]: hm. damn i got nothing then

[Suzan Yang]: i have a theory

[Cindy Moon]: you have said your theory many times in person and i honestly don’t want to think about it at all, ever, so im going to say debunked 

[Suzan Yang]: your loss then

[Zach Cooper]: five bucks on the secret love child theory

[Brad Davis]: bet

[Kenneth Lim]: theres no waayyyy lmao could u even imagine

[Sue Lorman]: no, no kenneth shut up i want to hear more about this theory

[Zach Cooper]: its really quite simple and im sure you can understand it if you read the name ‘secret lovechild theory’ 

[Michelle Jones]: im screenshotting these to send to peter

[Cindy Moon]: oh right peter said you already knew the reason

[Cindy Moon]: mj spill challenge 

[Michelle Jones]: no thanks its more fun watching you guys guess

[Cindy Moon]: hm alright i guess we need an answer from the source 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: confirm or deny above theory 

[Peter Parker]: oh my god

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

[Abe Brown]: yet again i am not quite sure why i expected something different

                                                         --- 

Perhaps the most surprising outcome of the entire clusterfuck of a situation is that they do get something out of it. Of course, it’s not from Peter because Peter is like a steel trap and everything he says only leads to more questions and no answers. Cindy has been trying this for almost a week now. She knows how this goes. 

She isn’t expecting to log on for first-period chemistry like always, only to see The Tony Stark already on the meeting. 

She’s not early this time—she stopped that some three days ago when Peter made it incredibly clear that he wouldn’t show up early anymore either. Instead of wasting thirty minutes of precious sleep, Cindy decides to put her drive towards more obtainable goals like trying to get out of bed instead of trying to grill a person who doesn’t even show up half the time. 

Mr. Cobbwell is already on too. He seems ecstatic for incredibly obvious reasons. Not many teachers can say that they had Tony Stark guest lecture, after all, even if it is just through Zoom. 

He’s got a little label with 'Tony Stark' and everything. Cindy doesn’t know why she’s surprised that the previous CEO and Iron Man does, in fact, have a Zoom account. 

“—I’m sure the student will enjoy whatever you have planned,” Mr. Cobbwell is saying. He checks the timer and startles. “Oh! We’re about ready to start. We’re missing a couple students, I think, so we might have a few that log on late, but you can start whenever you’re ready, Mr. Stark.” 

Mr. Stark looks at his screen intensely. Then, he stands up from his kitchen table (the same one that Peter has been sitting at. Go figure) and says, “Hold on just a moment.” 

Mr. Stark wanders off-camera just as there’s a crash in the background. 

“Peter, you’re supposed to be in class,” Mr. Stark says. It’s muffled, almost impossible to understand, but Cindy’s listening in so intensely that she’s determined to understand every word. “C’mon, kid, Pepper is going to kill me if you skip.”

“I’m not skipping! I’m just—I’m sick! I’m so sick, Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice comes through. It’s even more muffled than Mr. Stark’s is. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I can make class today. I’m gonna throw up or something. I’ll just be going back up to my room—"

There’s a sigh. Mr. Stark wanders back into camera view and addresses Mr. Cobbwell and the entire class, “Yeah, I’m going to need another moment. Teenagers and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Cobbwell rushes to assure. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Stark says. He turns off his camera and mutes his microphone. 

It doesn’t take long—Cindy’s not counting the time despite being incredibly invested. However, Peter does log on almost five minutes after the bell should’ve sounded looking distinctly not-sick and incredibly disgruntled. He shoots someone off-screen a look just as Mr. Stark turns his own account’s camera and microphone back on. 

“Now then,” Mr. Stark says. “How about we start this lovely little lesson? High school chemistry is one of my favorite subjects, after all." 

(Cindy can’t be certain because Peter’s muted, but she’s pretty sure that he gives a little groan when he buries his face in his hands and looks like death personally came to pick him up.) 

The lecture starts. Unfortunately for Cindy and the rest of the class, chemistry isn’t suddenly exciting even when you have a superhero to teach it. It’s still seven-thirty in the morning, they’re still playing the part of innocent Zoom University students, and chemistry itself just really sucks, if she’s completely honest. 

Time passes. The class is about to end. Cindy does manage to learn something even if that something is the fact Peter is not below a couple backhanded comments directed at The Tony Stark. She can’t hear them very well because Peter’s mic is muted but, y’know, Tony Stark is sitting right next to him and his mic definitely isn’t muted so she gets to hear a couple of gems with the rest of the class. That alone makes this entire thing worth it.  

“I would appreciate it if you would all keep this on the down low,” Mr. Stark says right after he had finished his guest lecture on the applications of modern chemistry. It’s possibly the most excited Cindy has seen Peter all week. “PR and all that. I’m sure Pepper could explain more if you wanted her to.” 

“Mr. Cobbwell, are we done?” Peter says suddenly. “I have another class to get to and I’m sure Mr. Stark is really incredibly busy—”

“I do have a toddler now,” Mr. Stark says with a nod. “And an ungrateful teenager, apparently.” 

Peter very distinctly ignores that. “—I’m not sure I’ll have enough time to make it to my next class if I don’t leave now. So can I please leave?” 

Mr. Cobbwell gives him a look but Peter doesn’t back down. Eventually, he says, “Alright. Everyone say thank you to Mr. Stark for so generously spending his morning being here with us—”

A couple students unmute just to say “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” while even more post thank yous in the chat. Mr. Stark gives them an award winning Iron Man smile and, yeah, he definitely just gave them finger guns as well. Cindy’s not quite sure if that makes him cooler or not, honestly. 

“—And with that, class dismissed,” Mr. Cobbwell finishes. 

Peter is the first one to leave the meeting. 

                                                          ---

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: cindy its almost 3am

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: It Is Almost Three In The Morning 

[Cindy Moon]: throw us a bone, peter

[Cindy Moon]: peter???

[Cindy Moon]: peter you there???

[Peter Parker]: listen. 

[Peter Parker]: yes, okay, i know mr stark

[Peter Parker]: and he promised to stay out of my calls originally so No One Else Would Know This but you all saw how well that went

[Kenneth Lim]: guys its three am

[Sue Lorman]: no shut up peters about to let something slip something i can feel it

[Jason Ionello]: oh my god why is my phone going off at 3am

[Zach Cooper]: everyone shut up let peter type!!!!

[Peter Parker]: you guys are really invested in this huh

[Zach Cooper]: dude u know The Tony Stark

[Peter Parker]: i guess that’s fair

[Peter Parker]: mr stark heard that he was caught on video the other day and. well. 

[Peter Parker]: he decided to make it worse

[Sue Lorman]: you mean better

[Peter Parker]: no i definitely mean worse

[Peter Parker]: im pretty sure hes making you sign NDAs though

[Cindy Moon]: hes making us do what

[Sue Lorman]: what

[Jason Ionello]: oh damn

[Zach Cooper]: can someone tell me what an NDA is

[Peter Parker]: i mean. he’ll pay for your college

[Cindy Moon]: nm my lips are sealed 

[Jason Ionello]: same

[Betty Brant]: yeah u know what. thats fair

[Peter Parker]: ok! cool now that’s all sorted out 

[Peter Parker]: uhhhhhhhhhhh

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

                                                    --- 

Just a day later, a mysterious envelope shows up at her door with a return address already stamped. Cindy wishes she could say she’s surprised at the bolded 'Non-Disclosure Agreement' stamped at that top but, really, that would be a lie. 

She does end up reading through the entire thing, mostly because she has a big fat tendency to run her mouth and doesn’t really want to get sued by a man who could buy a team of lawyers just to have them over for breakfast. Seeing the very eloquently written ‘if you keep your mouth shut, we’ll pay for your entire college and graduate program if you want’ clause is very nice to read. 

She signs it without hesitation. 

Mr. Stark doesn’t really make many more appearances after that, mostly because quarantine comes to an end and they’re all back in normal school by the end of the month. When she sees Peter Parker in person for the first time, surrounded by both MJ and Ned, they only meet eyes for a second before Peter is hurriedly packing up his backs and heading to his next class. 

They don’t say anything about what happened during those quarantine weeks. In fact, no one does. 

Cindy doesn’t really ever get an answer as to why Peter Parker is at Tony Stark’s house, of all places. She doesn’t ever really get an answer to why Peter Parker knows Tony Stark in the first place. There are theories, of course, but there had been theories long before The Reveal happened and there will be theories long after. It’s just yet another thing to add to the mystery that is Peter Parker. 

However, with the prospect of a fully paid college tuition and the many hours of engineering and business tutoring from Mr. Tony Stark and Mrs. Pepper Potts themselves, she finds that she doesn’t quite mind letting sleeping dogs lie. And, yeah, Cindy Moon is pretty sure she knows what weird looks like now. 

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hi Evoe, can I ask for you to write this MCxVinca fic? The request is where mc made deal with demons by giving up ability to feel touch to obtain darkness and light powers so she can keep up with Vinca and her friends. However, demon magic corrupt mc’s soul. Mc went dark and betray her lover by using Vinca’s knife to kill her so she can become Pride and take her mind reading power. Mc made it looks like it’s from Vuzgamad’s ambush and claimed that Vinca made her a successor before her death

Written by: @evoedbd

PART 3

Warnings for

Bad Language

Violence

Blood and Gore

Death

Part One, Part Two

+++++++++++++++++++++

MEMENTO MORI

“Yvette is going to be devastated when you’re gone, Vinca. It only makes sense that Rae steps up, tries to comfort her best friend. It will be glorious, a love story for the ages. Born of tragedy, the dead best friend’s fiancée becoming the love of our heroine’s life. Of course, they will try to deny the feelings… Afterall, I killed you right in front of our new little Pride, she couldn’t save you, couldn’t save anyone. Rae is going to be so tragically broken… but her feelings will just be too strong for her to deny. Of course, this’ll only be once Yvette is nearly driven insane by her own longing for just ONE normal thing in her fucked up little life. Just like a fairy-tale, Yvette won’t be able to hurt Rae… not after Rae was able to “kill” me, to find a loophole in Yvette’s curse. Perhaps she’ll expose that with a kiss, on the anniversary of your death, over your grave. As if you blessed it from the beyond. Extra incentive to leave your little twin behind.” Vuzgamad’s taunting voice was enough to have Vinca hissing between blows. The demon was so sure, so confident as she lounged in a stolen body, across a dingy chair as if it were the unholy throne of hell. Honestly, who the fuck did this bitch think she was? Vinca would have snapped back, have retaliated, if Rae’s punch hadn’t come so close to connecting, only diverted by her sloppier form. The puppeteer too inexperienced, or the mind not committed.  That didn’t render her completely ineffective, not when the shadows played on the edge of Vinca’s vision one moment, and the next she was blinded.  She should have been blinded, only the fact Rae was fighting with everything left of her prevented that power unleashing, prevented her from completely devouring the current Pride assassin.

“Come on Rae, SNAP OUT OF IT.” Vinca pleaded between gasps, between punches and kicks.  Rae advanced viciously, pushing into Vinca’s guard, bringing them to collision after collision.  The safest way to give Vinca victory, but also the most costly.  Rae was good, too good, stronger in hand to hand than Vinca.  It was only Vinca’s blades that granted her leverage, but she didn’t want to use them.  How could she?   Every time she did, it was another slash across Rae’s flesh.  A cut designed to hurt without maiming or slaying, but Rae just kept pushing.  A terminator. The worst foe Vinca could ever face.  Her heart constricted in her chest, costing her precious time, lowering her guard a second too long.  She ducked the next kick, staggered, fell to a knee.  Before Rae’s foot even met the ground, she had raised her second in a brutal kick to Vinca’s chest.  Had she been human, Vinca knew that kick would have done more than sent her flying, arms flailing, knees bent awkwardly.   There was no time to stop, no time to make the answering blow softer.  One foot up, a kick from the ground straight into Rae’s groin.  She wasn’t a man, but society as a whole always underestimated how painful a kick to the vag truly was.  Sure, women were designed to push watermelons out of holes the size of a lemon but come on.   Predictably, Rae locked up with a pained grunt, leaving Vinca free to roll free of the conflict.

“Oh Pride, you sho- NO.  Vinc, RUN.  Please!  I c-can’t…” Rae’s entire body was at conflict.  Her voice changed, tone shifting from malicious to pleading.  The tears gathered within her dark eyes were not solely due to Vinca’s brutal kick, nor purely heartache.  It was the blood of war, blood from a battlefield within her mind spilling through the cracks of a human body. Rae strained; body perfectly exposed. Hesitation.  Rebellion.  A dare within her eyes.  A plea. The perfect opportunity.  One Vinca HAD to take.  A blade, a flick of the wrist, a bullseye waiting to happen.  Until the answering flash of light swallowed the darkness of Rae’s eyes.   It burned, a thousand fingers pulling at the fibre of Vinca’s muscles, the molecules in her bones.   She screamed, rolled across the cool concrete floor as her soul burned, melted along with the metal of her blade.  Said blade fell harmlessly to the concrete floor, bending as softened metal met the hard surface.  Severed from Vinca’s soul.  Another fragment lost.

“Like… Hell… Am I… leaving you.” Vinca gasped out, chipped nails biting into the concrete as she pulled herself to her knees.   Her once bedazzled eyes were now surrounded by smudged makeup, running eyeliner on trickles of blood.  Blush complimented by gravel rash.  Scraped, reduced to bared teeth in threat.

“There’s still a little bit of me left? Oh, I sound so convincing, don’t I? Nobody will see this coming, never in a million years. There’s nothing left, you stupi-”

Vinca reached, plunging herself back into the muck that greeted her when she reached for Rae’s mind. She was in a canyon, looking up at the two sides, unable to decipher which side of the chasm she should scale, only that the muck was pulling her down. A quagmire. Stuck. Trapped. But one side was crumbling, falling into the chasm, building it and filling it. It was too much, it was going to crush her if she didn’t run, didn’t get out. GET OUT! Get out, get out, get out! But she couldn’t. It was all too much. Too hard. So much pressure. Crushing and consuming. She was going to die. She was going to drown in this nothingness. She stared at two glaciers, but one was crumbling, sheets of ice falling away into the blackest ocean, which continued to rise, continued to consume. Which should she reach for? What did this even mean? Why? Why was Rae’s mind suddenly so different? At the bottom, a glint of iron caught her eye. Bars of a vicious cage ensnaring a lone form. A figure drowning, clawing at the bars weakly as the ability to fight drained away.   Vinca was desperate, screaming in a thousand voices, a thousand tongues across conceivable time as she dug.  She dug, hands scooping as she dove into the water, tried to dig deeper into the mud.  It was so thick, so heavy in her hands, yet slid as freely as water.  Like a dog, she dug, arms blurring as she screamed. A handful thrown aside, two more replaced it.  It was futile.  Like fighting the rising sun with nothing but a Pinto and a lasso.  Still, Vinca had to try.  She drove the spurs to the steed. She drunk, trying to swallow the mud, digging the water.  Absorb it, take it in, anything!  Anything to save Rae.

A punch to the breast broke her from the musings, earning an enraged shriek mere moments before she responded in kind.  Rae squeaked in a similar manner, horror flashing across her face, followed by a flush to her cheeks.  Typical of her, to blush like a schoolgirl the moment breasts were involved.  Still, she pushed, using her powerful legs to kick through Vinca’s guard, expensive canvas shoes thankfully taking the brunt of Vinca’s slashes.  The harder Rae attacked, the further onto the backfoot Vinca was forced.  A punch to the face, a slash to the bicep, a death of a thousand cuts.  One cut had two souls bleeding, each worth a thousand words that Pride could never express.   A kick to the ribs, a slash across the thigh.  Please don’t make me do this.  A knee deflected by a hard forearm, followed by a blow to the chin.   Please run.  A backhand across Rae’s face.  Two people flinching.  I’m not leaving you.

“You can try all you want, Vinca, but you can’t stop her unless you kill her… then, there are all these demons.” Vuzgamad pointed out, lifting a little from her makeshift throne.  The demons encircling them hissed and snarled, making themselves known as Vinca drew too close to the edge of their temporary arena. They kept her trapped, pushing her back into Rae’s range time and time again, but never once harming her.  Never causing her to stagger.  It was either a leering blade waved dangerously close, or knuckles cracking beneath wicked bracers.   A few even simply cocked guns at her, each grinning wickedly as she stepped back into the arena.  Back to fighting her heart. It was all a game. A FUCKING game.  That bubbled in her veins, leading her next blow to land a little too hard across Rae’s chest.

“You know, this was all Rae’s idea.  I admit, I never would have put so much effort into ensuring an entire gangs worth of demons prevented you leaving.  A stroke of genius, but that’s to be expected.  Rae truly thought long and hard on how to pick you apart over our time together.   It seems she truly does know you better than anybody alive, as you’ve said.  Even Onyx, bless the girl, couldn’t endure the darkness.  But Rae?  It’s a pity such a virtue has you as her vice… right to the bitter end.” Vuzgamad continued, pausing to snicker at Vinca’s cry of outrage.  A slash across a demon’s throat.  It fell, offering no resistance.  The sound of a gunshot.  A crumpled host.  Two more demons stepping up, pushing Vinca back with seething hatred beneath their almost gentle movement.  

“Do you honestly think you’re doing anything but delaying the inevitable? By hurting Rae, you’re only making it harder for her to fight.” Vuzgamad’s laughter followed another punch to Rae’s nose, one punctuated by a sickly crack. Vinca cringed, leaping backwards as Rae staggered. With a heavy heart she took aim. A flick of her wrist had a blade buried in Rae’s nerves, immobilising the Chinese woman. Before Vinca could even draw a second knife, Rae’s eyes were upon her, the room suddenly darkened, filling her with a chill that ate at her very bones. It was not simply darkness, but the complete absence of light. All save two terrifying eyes. Eyes which seemed to burn, just like the blade in her hand. Just like the blade hidden within Rae’s flesh. Those powers… something so simple yet versatile in Rae’s hands. Something eating at her humanity. The blade was too hot, burning Vinca’s flesh. She screamed, letting the blade fall to the concrete mere moments before her knees did.

The demons around them hissed and snarled, triumph radiating from the hideous visages. Each and every monster was strong and rested, just waiting to pick at the remains. Numerous, beyond what Vinca could see.  Beyond what she could read whilst ducking and weaving.  Whilst struggling to figure a way out.   She couldn’t fight them all, nor could she leave Rae behind.  She couldn’t… couldn’t kill Rae.  No matter what, no matter how pressured, she simply couldn’t.

“Accept it, Vinca Wren.  One of you is not leaving here alive.  Its either you, or her.”

“N- Vinc you have t…” Rae growled, her own hands raised to her eyes, nails biting into her brow as she pressed her palms into her eyesockets.  She trembled; a torn flag trapped within a hurricane.  A grain of sand upon a landslide, an earthquake.  Helpless to it all, no matter how hard she fought.

Vuzgamad was right.

Even if she could beat some sense into Rae, supress what was eroding her, they’d never manage to fight out of this. Sure, the others might find them… but what if they didn’t? Vinca already knew, no matter what, that one of them would be too battered to escape.  There it was, laid out so fricken clearly, the trap she’d ensnared herself in.  Vinca cussed, tears bitterly trailing down her cheeks.  She was only twenty-three.  She didn’t want to die.  Not here, not like this.  An animal in a cage.  She screamed, wordlessly, furiously.  This was so fucking unfair.  She’d given EVERYTHING she had to give.  Her soul.  Her humanity.  Her heart.  She’d given everything save the breath in her lungs and it was STILL not enough.  What more could be taken from her?  Why did fate demand such a thing?  Vinca had no doubt Vuzgamad would kill Rae if Vinca herself escaped. Rae was only useful as a tool. For the hearts bound to her… underestimated. As always. Everyone fucking underestimated Rae, right up until she kicked their ass.  Fuck.  Everyone fucking shat on Rae too, like the most popular latrine in a garrison of soldiers with gastro.   So many people passed her up, never bothering to look into those soulful dark eyes, to question what lingered behind them.  They underestimated her tenacity.  Her intelligence.  Her humanity.

Gods, Vinca fucking loved her. It wasn’t just the little underdog scrambling to every victory that was endearing. It was the gentleness in her eyes. How she trusted her heart so fearlessly. How she continued to sacrifice and fight, even when she was almost broken. Even against the erosion to her humanity. She fought. Even when it was hopeless, she fought, and not even for herself. Rae was throwing herself to the metaphoric wolves, willing to die to protect what she loved.  Vinca knew Rae understood their situation.  She was too smart not to know the moment they walked in.  The moment the teeth snapped shut.  Rae had tried to shove her own foot into that trap, tried to take the fall, to let herself be slain to spare Vinca an ounce of pain.

It couldn’t be Rae.  Vinca realised after one more glance at Rae’s strained features.   How her hand trembled, muscles strained as if held taught by ropes from a thousand directions.  How desperate she was not to grasp Vinca’s fallen blade.   She was so damn beautiful.  Dark eyes flashing with her own fury, clarity for brief flashes, lightning of a storm.  Lips cut, bleeding with every grimace, soaking her chin.  Why?  Rae was a virtue in all but power.  She was love, she was generosity and kindness and patience.  She was EVERYTHING Vinca was not, the counteracting part to a whole that never had truly had the chance to bloom.  The whole Vinca would have given more than herself to see recognised.   This… this was her heart, already torn from her chest, stolen by the cruellest of fates… but at least she had been given the chance to have a taste of paradise.  If only she’d recognised that sooner, instead of fighting herself.

Vinca sighed, slowly rising to her feet.  Determination burning through her veins.  Once chance.  One single chance was all she needed.  A way to break through, to give everything she had left.  The ring hiding in her pocket, a led feather.  It’d always felt so heavy, despite being so light.  Now, it was the wind beneath her broken wings, the only thing preventing her freefalling, plummeting to the earth like the lone tear gathering in her eye.  She watched, saw Rae grab her fallen knife. Stared over the precipice. She was not brave enough to watch, to see that moment unfold.  She had to close her eyes, to let that silly little tear fall as she plunged herself into the murky darkness surrounding Rae’s heart.

If there had to be a sacrifice, so be it.

It would not be Rae.

It would NEVER be Rae.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @alwaysfarawayeyes​ based on this photoset.

Pairing: Anders/Mitchell Rating: M

Tags: First meeting, smut

Summary: Meeting Mitchell in Norway was a surprise. The outcome, not so much.

You can also read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Blue

-

“Blue is not your color.” Anders told the dark-haired man who had been quietly drinking in the corner and had captured Anders’ attention the minute he had walked in.  

He lied of course. With a face like that, every color was this man’s color.

The lifted brow he got in response made Anders’ fingers itch to lift the hideous blue sweater up and off. He placed his drink on the table and sat down across from the unknown – but hopefully not for long - man.

“I could help you get rid of it.” Anders offered. He was generous like that.

“And freeze to death? No thank you.” Irish. Bragi fluttered in the back of his mind.    

“It’s warm in my bed, I promise.”

“There is no such thing as warm in this godforsaken tundra.” The handsome stranger complained.

“Not godforsaken. I am here to warm you up.” No need to keep any secrets. He would not see him again after leaving Norway. Which he planned to do as soon possible.

The man snorted and held out his hand.

“Mitchell.” He said. His smile was devastating.

Anders held onto Mitchell’s hand for a few extra seconds after introducing himself.

“So what are you doing here if you hate the cold so much.”

Mitchell hesitated before answering.

“I just needed some distance.” This man had secrets.

“You could’ve gone somewhere else. Anywhere but this frozen wasteland.”

Mitchell shrugged. Secrets.

“You here on business?” Mitchell countered, eyeing Anders’ suit.

“I’m here to fetch a stick.”

“A stick?”

“Yes. I’ve been looking for weeks. I finally found a guide who knows where to go.”

“Alright, well, good luck with that.” Mitchell clearly did not believe him. But he did not have to.

It turned out that bonding over their mutual hatred for the cold shitty weather could fill an entire evening. Anders had not had this much fun with his clothes on in a long time.

At 2 a.m. he needed to call it a night. His guide would show up at 6 and he needed at least some sleep to face the cold tomorrow. It could take three days of hiking to get to Yggdrasil. He had hoped for a good fuck before leaving, but..

“No thank you. I don’t kiss on a first date.” Mitchell joked. Liar.

“But on a second date…?” Anders enquired.

“All bets are off.”

Anders shook Mitchell’s hand and fervently hoped the man would still be there when he returned.

It was a full week of grueling cold, horrible food and a lot of alcohol before Anders finally returned to the lodging where he had met Mitchell. He stowed away the stick in his room, took a shower and went down to the bar. He ate alone, drank alone and finally went to bed alone.

He was not disappointed.

-

It took Anders five days to get to Oslo. He booked a hotel room close to the airport. His flight would leave in two days. Plenty of time to taste the local specialties one last time.

He was chatting up a busty blond when he spotted him. Mitchell. Alone in the back of the bar.

“Spotting somebody in a bar for the second time counts as a second date in my books.” Anders stated. He placed a new drink for Mitchell in front of him.

“Anders?” Mitchell’s eyes widened. Surprise. So he was not following him.

Anders sat himself down and leaned forward. “Wanna see my stick?”

Mitchell laughed. “Maybe later.”

It took four more drinks before Mitchell started responding to Anders’ increasingly obvious flirting.

“I think I’m ready to see your stick now.”  

-

Mitchell kissed like the sinner he undoubtedly was.

-

The black eyes and pointed teeth should have been a surprise. They weren’t.  

-

Kissing around the fangs was a bitch and a half. Anders migrated to Mitchell’s neck instead. The dark sounds produced by Mitchell were glorious.

-

In the end Anders did not die. Or more accurately, Mitchell did not kill him.

Mitchell did ruin him for anybody else. It might have been the power, the darkness or the adrenaline that made Mitchell the best fuck he’d had in years.

He would never tell anybody that it was Mitchell’s black eyes staring up at him as Anders rode him hard. They were the eyes of somebody who took his pleasure wherever he could, at the expense of anybody. The eyes of somebody without guilt. Unapologetic.

-

“Come with me.” Anders demanded right before he came.

-

Mitchell did.

[recurring-polynya]

I’m a huge RenRuki fan so I’m stoked to find this page of glorious work and active engagement relating to this topic I could go on about! I was wondering... during their separation, do you think Renji and Rukia slept with/dated other people? One more than the other? Just wanna know your insight since you put so much depth into their relationship. I love it. (I personally like to think that Renji had a bit of a “hoe phase” especially while he was in the 11th)

Tumblr is so great, I can’t believe people actually value my opinion on this stuff (this is absolutely one of my favorite topics). Thank you so much for your kind words, and I am ecstatic for the opportunity to pontificate on this topic.

Just to clarify, if you were asking for my opinion on the source material, and I had to “support my opinion” or “cite references”, my actual interpretation of canon is that no, they were absolutely celibate during this time. Rukia had a cute li’l crush on her vice-captain and Renji probably went on one very heterosexual date with a girl once and felt bad about it for a year.

When I am being generous and world-buildy, I like to consider the fact that shinigami are souls. They do not have bodies or hormones and so I can get behind the idea that bonds of family and friendship are far more important than sex and attraction, because those are fundamentally earthly concerns. In the hands of a thoughtful, talented, preferably ace writer, this could be an incredibly interesting setting but that is, uh, not consistent with any other aspect of Soul Society, including the fact that they sell sexy calendars of the captains, plus Kubo took the time out to canonically remind us that Soul Reapers poop and have babies.

So, instead, here is the horny Polynya headcanon version, which is what you probably wanted anyway. I’m putting it under a cut because it gets a little R-rated, and also it’s hella long, but the short answer is Renji absolutely had a slutty phase.

Some people headcanon that Rukia and Renji were actually in a romantic relationship at the time of her adoption, and if that’s your reading of it, and you want to believe that they waited for each other out of loyalty, I suppose I can get behind that.

I don’t think they were together, though. I waver from time to time about how physical their affection got in Rukongai, but I think they fell in love and never admitted it. When their last friend died, they both became absolutely terrified of losing the other, so they came to the Seireitei in order to get strong and not die. I don’t think Rukia ever wanted to be Soul Reaper, to be honest. Given the strength of her principles and her particular moral code, I do think she is a great one, in the style of “I would never want to be in a club that would have me in it.” Consistent with Oetsu’s trial in the Royal Realm, I think Renji was born (died?) to be a Soul Reaper and Rukia knew this and also that he would never go unless she went with him. She absolutely regarded getting him into Shin’ou as saving his life and getting him where he belonged.

Once they were in school, I think they had to keep their distance socially if they wanted to succeed. The Gotei runs entirely on nepotism, and Rukongai kids who don’t adapt are looking at Squad 11 or 4, best case scenario. Even if they were aware of their feelings for each other, they had to play it cool for now. Renji is a long-term planner, and I think he set his sights on pass tests -> graduate -> get Gotei position -> live happily ever after with Rukia. Rukia is not so good at long term planning, and also not so good at formal education and I think she just got depressed and salty, especially because she was never sure if he actually returned her feelings or not. I absolutely think that when she accepted the adoption, she assumed she was leaving Renji to his live his best life, and at least going somewhere she was wanted.

Even though we, the reader, are presented this story as a tragedy, in many ways, this is exactly what they had hoped for. They lived. That’s it. That’s all they ever wanted. Renji got to have his perfect job and Rukia got to live in indescribable luxury. They are both so, so happy about this and have no idea why their faces are so wet right now.

The last thing either of them wants, to be honest, is the other one pining after them. They have each accepted trudging through their life in misery because they think they have made the other happy. There’s a scene were Byakuya shows up to the Squad 6 holding cells to announce to Rukia that he has no plans to save her, and Renji looks just devastated, not just because Rukia’s gonna die, but because he thought he was sending her to happiness.

Also, on a meta level, I am middle aged, and for me, the romance of only ever being with one person is boring as hell. The idea that they would get together and lose their virginity to each other just makes me indescribably tired. Childhood-friends-to-lovers isn’t actually that interesting to me-- it is the separation itself that makes it spicy-- that they went off and had other life experiences-- and sexual experiences, and came back found that they loved this person even more now.

I headcanon Rukia as very horny and pro-sex in theory, but has is a big problem of opportunity. On one hand, I think she and Byakuya have a firm don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy, where as long as she stays out of the gossip columns, he doesn’t care what she does. On the other hand, though, I feel like secret affairs are kinda hard to manage, especially since she entered the noble network late in life. Anyway, I figure she’s had a number of casual affairs, mostly with other nobles who are invested in not getting caught, and also do not have any interest in any sort of emotional attachment. I think Rukia is absolutely bi, and mostly slept with ladies because they were more likely to be discreet, although there was probably a dude or two in there somewhere. Rukia only has two relatinship modes-- detached and ride-or-die, and she was very careful to keep everything in category 1, because she had no expectation of ever having a functional relationship that would go anywhere; no one she was actually interesting in being with would ever pass Kuchiki muster. I think she tried dating a nice boy from Squad 8 once, and everyone in Squad 13 thought it was the cutest thing they had ever seen. They went on three dates and never kissed and Rukia hated it and never did it again. She let herself have a huge crush on both Kaien and Miyako Shiba, because she was absolutely sure it could never go anywhere, and that definitely played into her devastation at their death. She may have had some Bad Decisions Sex in the wake of that, but I think for the most part, the affairs became more trouble than they were worth, and she’s been on a pretty long dry spell around the time we meet her.

That being said, I think Rukia is a lady who takes care of herself, if you get my drift. I think she has an extensive collection of erotic romance novels, a good imagination, and Kuchiki money worth of self-service sex toys. I think by the time she and Renji actually hook up, she has decades worth of pent up fantasies, and fortunately for her, he is intrigued by her ideas and would like to sign up for her newsletter, please and thank you.

Speaking of Renji, let’s talk about Renji! After Rukia left, I think Renji Made Some Plans and buckled down into a long, hard haul of Making Himself Worthy of Seeing Rukia Again. He made it through school, he went into Squad 5 with Izuru and Momo and... lost 90% of his momentum. This is exactly the scenario of the kid who busts ass through college to follow their dream, and then two years into their dream job, realizes that they are going to be formatting pivot tables in Excel for the next 15 years before they get to do anything remotely interesting. At this point, Renji is young, hot, bisexual, inked, and not very satisfied with his day job, and Thus Began the Ho Period.

Momo and Izuru hate this. They hate it so much. They have both had big crushes on Renji since school and they are right there. It wouldn’t be so bad if he would find a nice sweet partner that they like, but no, he just goes off on weeknights and comes home reeking of alcohol and covered in hickeys and ruining his career even though his job performance is actually fine. The fact is, even though he has always acted like he doesn’t know, of course he knows they like him, he’s not dumb, but Izuru and Momo are the type of people who mate for life, and Renji absolutely knows how badly he would break their hearts. He can’t even talk about it with them, all he can do it pretend like he doesn’t notice and hope they’ll realize what trash he is. He still loves Rukia and will always love Rukia and has made peace with the idea that he will likely never get to be with her-- he’s still working towards it because he must, because it would kill him to give up, but he knows that he’s only good for a fight or a fuck and not much else. Their friendship gets increasingly strained until Momo and Izuru can’t understand anything he does and he can’t stand them caring so damn much.

Anyway, this escalates in deciding to leave Nice, Respectable Squad 5 entirely, and joining the French Foreign Legion Squad 11. Squad 11 respects a man’s right to wallow, and Renji takes a swan dive to rock bottom. His only saving grace is his training with Ikkaku, which he takes absolutely seriously. Yumichika eventually takes interest in Renji, and teaches him how to take care of his hair and have standards. Yumichika and Ikkaku realize that if they can make him Functional, they can get him to do paperwork, so they help him beat the Sixth Seat and let him start hanging out with their friends.

Renji is still sleeping around at this point, but at least he’s sleeping around with a better class of people. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Polynya, has Matsumoto ever pegged Renji? (You probably weren’t actually thinking that) The answer is yes, Matsumoto has absolutely pegged Renji, and she was utterly delighted to give Rukia tips later on. Rukia does not begrudge Renji his slutty period in the least, because she knows that, given the opportunity, she probably would have been Worse, and also, he’s slept with 3/4 of the Gotei and picked her out of all of them, and also, he’s just incredible at oral.

The slutty phase tapered off when Renji had a bit of an actual relationship with Shuuhei. First of all, they are absolutely each other’s types, physically. Secondly, Shuuhei (whom I headcanon as significantly less pathetic and more bisexual than in canon) would be able to handle being in a relationship that is fun and supportive, even if it’s not destined to last. He is well aware that Renji is devoted to beating Captain Kuchiki and that he’s never going to truly be able to be in love with anyone until he gets some closure with Rukia, but that’s a long way off, and Shuuhei’s got his own baggage, who doesn’t have baggage? So they sleep together and go to the bar together and hold hands sometimes and tool around on the motorbike and wear a lot of leather and Hisagi cooks Renji food and Renji eats it and they’re pretty happy for a few years.

Eventually, around the time he gets serious about trying to make vice-captain, Renji starts to hang out with Izuru and Momo again, who have recently made vice-captain themselves, and are really happy to see that he’s gotten himself back on the wagon. He’s started thinking about Rukia a lot again, and he’s feeling a little bad because he loves Shuuhei, but he’s not in love with Shuuhei, and also, Shuuhei and Izuru have started looking at each other when they go out drinking, so Renji claims he needs to concentrate on the vice-captain’s exam and they have some nice breakup sex and then he sliiiiiides on outta there like a good bro and is very happy for his friends when they start hooking up.

Did that cover it? Boy, I had a lot of thoughts on that, huh? To summarize: They both saw other people. Renji had way more sex, just a tremendous amount of sex, but always carried a torch for Rukia (not really intentionally, I think he would have liked to be able to get over her, he just couldn’t), whereas I think she really did give up on him for a while.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, please read my fanfiction, where I am constantly hinting at all this stuff, I swear I will eventually finish that Squad 11 story.

[foxofthedesert]

RedQueen & Mythology Part 2

Hey, @loudestdork​, guess what?  Here I am again, this time at 4 am, because your fucking glorious manip has me obsessing over this brilliant little universe where Regina and Ruby are Hades and Persephone.  I don’t know whether I should love you or hate you for fueling this hopeless addiction.   

While I decide about that, you can read the latest installment.  I can’t promise any more but holy shit there are so many ideas to play with.  Hope you enjoy it you absolutely magnificent enabler! 

Also, please forgive the song insert at the end.  It has long been an earworm and this was the perfect ficlet, IMHO anyway, to use it in.  The song is “Listen To The Wind” by James Horner (one of my most favorite film composers and I was utterly devastated when he passed) for the Terrence Malick film The New World.  The whole score is incredible, but this one in addition to “An Apparition in the Fields...” are the standouts for me.  I’ll post the URL to the referenced song after the ficlet.  Give it a listen if you are a James Horner fan or a connoisseur of film scores in general.  

“Would you please stop?  Your needless fretting is tying my stomach into knots.”

Clutching the sheets to her bare chest, Ruby observes her spouse’s restless pacing as anxiety crawls up her spine.  She hates this time of year – a twist of fate she could never have predicted when she was a maiden free to roam the Earth at her leisure.

Before she was married there were no seasons.  The land was healthy and green year around.  Birds and butterflies and wolves, her very favorite animal, flocked to her side, forgetting their natural impulses in the presence of Ceres Eugenia’s progeny.  Ruby always had an affinity for animals and had always felt as if she were a part of their various cycles.  When younglings were born she rejoiced in song and danced in celebration, and when they perished she mourned as if having lost a member of her family.

Common sense should therefore dictate that she prefer spring over autumn if only to spare herself the grief of watching the whole world die year after year in endless repetition.  And yet nothing could be further from the truth.  Already a thousand years have passed since she struck the eternal bargain with Jovia Zelena to bind her to Dīs. A thousand years she has observed the flora and fauna endure the frigid snows and gales of winter.  A thousand years she has buried her four-legged friends in the frosty loam and held vigil over millions upon millions of trees and flowers and insects alike as they struggled, often fruitlessly, against the remorseless cold intent upon feeding the insatiable engine of death.  She has cried enough tears in that millennium to replenish both the Mediterranean and Aegean were they to succumb to a terminal drought and still she would rather endure another rather than spend the coming six months away from her beloved.

Speaking of Regina, as she stops abruptly and swirls around, Ruby can’t help but notice that her sheen toga clings wonderfully to her curves and that the part in the garment has separated to reveal nearly the whole length of a shapely leg her lips long to taste. Eyes blazing, hands on her hips, raven hair spilling over her shoulders, Regina cuts such an impressive and irresistibly handsome figure that Ruby can hardly keep herself from drooling.  And how very embarrassing that would be!

Not for the first time, she silently contemplates how anyone with functioning vision and a shred of reason could choose Venus as the fairest of them all. Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow; surely Ruby’s closest childhood friend possessed all of those physical virtues and more, yet even Venus Mater Caelesti – known to those who lover her as Nix Alba (or in the common tongue Snow White) – failed to compare with the banished goddess that all with breath either feared or loathed.

In the vaulted halls of Olympos they derisively referred to the ruler of the Underworld as Regina a Malo, the Evil Queen.  But to Ruby she will forever be Regina in Corde Meo, the Queen of My Heart.

Survival for half the year without the sovereign owner of her love and devotion is a torture so unbearable that the Deam Optimus Maximus is no doubt thrilled that her faux attempt at leniency was failing so spectacularly.  Were it not for the unyielding support of her mother and Snow, she cannot imagine how she would even function.

True Love, as it turns out, is not only a source of unimaginable happiness but also of indescribable misery.

“Needless fretting?” Regina says, responding to Ruby’s request in a less than accommodating tone.  “In less than a fortnight you will leave me once again to the mercy of my imaginations.  I can do nothing else but fret when you are not by my side!  Beyond the borders of Dīs I cannot protect you, cannot watch over you, cannot...”

“Hover like a mother hen over her chicks?” Ruby supplies, interrupting in an attempt to forestall her wife’s spiraling descent lest she succumb to one of her abyssal depressions.

There is scarcely anything to be done when the darkness has taken hold of Regina in earnest.  In such instances, Ruby does what she can to provide whatever comfort her ailing partner will accept.  Usually space and time are required for Regina to wrestle off the impossibly heavy blanket of sadness that has engulfed her.  But sometimes she lets Ruby sing to her until the fog lifts or hold her hand while they go for a walk through the Fields of Gladness or the Blessed Groves. When the despair becomes too much, Regina will curl into Ruby’s body while they lie abed and it is all she can do during those evenings to keep from empathetically sobbing as her beloved trembles miserably in her arms.

Thankfully Ruby has discovered through trial and error that humor is a method of dispelling Regina’s souring moods that is effective more often than not.

“I resent that comparison,” Regina says, brows furrowed in objection.  Ruby breathes a sigh of relief, though, when her shoulders relax into a more neutral posture. “For your information I am nothing like your disgustingly virtuous mother, and I’ll thank you not to imply such again any time in the near future.”

“Aww.  Don’t be cross, love. I meant no disrespect,” Ruby says, then invitingly pats the empty space beside her.  “Now, be a good girl and come back to bed.”

One sable eyebrow quirks up as Regina eyes Ruby with a small grain of incredulity.  “’A good girl’?  Do you address Zelena with such remarkable insouciance when you deliver your annual report?”

Said report is part of the deal with the chief goddess Ruby acquiesced to so that she could have six months of the year with Regina instead of the originally intended three.  Her first destination each spring is Mytikas, the summit of Mount Olympus upon which the great temple of the gods was erected eons before she was even born. There she is to give account of Regina’s activities, however benign, as assurance that Zelena’s grasp on power remains uncontested.  It is a distasteful duty that Ruby executes with all of the precision she can muster, especially since it always makes her feel dirty, as if she is being employed against her will as a spy in her own wife’s domain.

“Of course not, silly,” she replies, smiling at how cute Regina is when acting absolutely ridiculous.  “I try to keep interactions with your sister to a minimum, and when I report to her I make sure to maintain the proper formality she most certainly does not deserve.  Now stop beating around the bush and come to bed.  As you said, I have a fortnight left with you and I do not intend on wasting even one minute.”

When Regina remains mulishly still, Ruby switches to a tried and tactic: batting her eyelashes and pouting shamelessly.  To her delight, Regina caves within seconds and responds with an affectionate if not exasperated roll of her eyes.

Once they are settled back in together, Ruby’s back nestled flush with Regina’s front, they both heave sighs of contented pleasure.  An easy, familiar silence reigns over them for a space that Ruby does not care to account for.  Not when the only thing she needs and desires is right here in this room holding her just right, nuzzling into her cheek and neck in between pressing patient kisses against the skin of her shoulder and arm.

This is her home, Regina is her home, and there is no other place where she feels more safe and loved and cherished in all the universe, which has garnered a fair few questions as to her sanity when she has admitted as such to her friends and loved ones in the planes above Dīs.  Some of them have been so bold as to declare to her face that she is insane.

“If that’s true,” she told one such acquaintance, “then sanity is not for me. Better to be deranged and blissfully happy than a sensible busybody like you who will never experience real love or understand how it feels to be desired for your heart instead of your tits!”

That particular individual has not spoken to Ruby since, not that it is a big loss. Drizella always was and always will be a vacuous hussy.

“What am I to do when you’re gone?”

Regina’s plaintive whisper shatters the silence as if she had screamed.  Ruby’s heart lurches from a pang of acute melancholy. She already knows the answer to that question, and has since it was first asked a thousand years earlier.  

While Ruby cries herself to sleep upon her plush bed in the Aventine Temple, Regina will be working herself ragged by micromanaging every last operational detail of the entire realm. She will spend countless hours draped in thick furs brooding upon her throne while being buffeted by cutting winds that sweep through corridors and hallways of the palace – for while above the spring breeds balmy, gentle breezes, in the Underworld the atmosphere turns ever more frigid and capricious and violent in tune with the temperament of its ruler.  Against all logic she will refuse nourishment far too frequently and eat meager portions only when necessary, forego rest until she is too haggard and weary to perform even basic functions, harshly dismiss all attempts to lighten her load until the majority of the staff is too frightened to even approach her, and generally wear herself down until all that is left is an exhausted husk that Ruby will have to revitalize all over again come the fall.

She hates that her beloved will segregate herself to such a degree, but there is little she can do to prevent it.  The Laws of Olympus cannot be broken, not even by those who decree them. However, that does not mean they cannot be bent.  She may be forbidden to physically see and touch Regina during her time on the surface, but the laws Zelena established dictating their separation make no mention of the metaphysical.  

Although eternal beings such as themselves do not require sleep, it is a luxury that provides many physical, emotional, and mental benefits.  For them, though, something unique occurs when they are asleep at the same time. Somnus himself had taught her that they are what mortals refer to as Soul Mates.  They are, he had told her, two halves of one whole and because of that no force known to heaven or earth could keep them completely isolated from one another.  Space and time are irrelevant to them when they can bridge any distance to be reunited in their dreams.  Unfortunately learning how to control this ability was quite complex and required many secretive lessons over the centuries for Ruby to even summon the most simple of dreamscapes for herself.

Thankfully this past summer she had at last managed to recreate the broader forest in which she and Regina first met.  And tonight she was going to draw them both there as indisputable proof that there was a place beyond prying eyes they could always be together.  

“Close your eyes.”

“I bet your pardon?” Regina replies, and when she attempts to prop herself up by an elbow, Ruby latches on to her arm to keep her close.

“For once do what I say without being difficult, would you please? I need you to hold me and close your eyes.”

For a long moment Regina does not comply, and though it starts to appear like she never will, Ruby continues waiting all the same.  She is very good at that – waiting on Regina.  In her experience, doing so never goes without reward. The woman may be more intractable and ornery than the hound that guards the gates of her dominion, but she is worth the expense of every single second of patience expended and every last ounce of effort exhausted on her behalf.

As if determined to prove her correct, Regina eventually settles back down and snakes an arms beneath the covers to wind over Ruby’s waist.  A cool hand then settles in the valley of her breasts, fingers splayed wide over her heart, and Ruby shivers more in response to the welcome touch than to the algid temperature of her wife’s flesh.

“Alright then,” Ruby says, wiggling further into the embrace, “are your eyes closed?”  Regina hums confirmation into the shell of Ruby’s ear. “Now, just relax, breathe, and listen...”  

And when all is still and quiet once more she begins to sing:

“Time is a river that flows endlessly and A life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.

Shadows dance behind the firelight, 

And all the spirits of the night remind us: We are not alone.

Tomorrow, a sun soon rising, And yesterday is there beside us,

And it's never far away. If you listen to the wind you can hear me again.

Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song

High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.

Listen to the wind, there's no end to my

Love is forever a circle unbroken.

The seasons keep changing; it always remains. Spring will melt the snows of winter and the summer gives us days of light 

So long till autumn makes them fade.

Remember the sound of laughter. We ran together through the meadows;

Still we thought our hearts could break.

If you listen to the wind, you can hear me again.

Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song

High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.

Listen to the wind and I'll send you my love. Listen to the wind where the sky meets the land.

I'm not really gone I've been here all along

High up in the trees in the sound of the leaves.

Listen to the wind there's no end to my...

Time is a river that flows to the sea

And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.”

As the song draws to an end, there is no sound or movement from Regina save from her steady breathing, by which Ruby can tell she is fast asleep. With a soft, peaceful smile, she shutters her eyelids closed and inhales deeply.  

By the time she has fully exhaled, she is already kissing Regina in their meadow.

[8emmy]

Friends With Benefits

This AU is new and is randomly going to be updated. Please send me prompts (songs, writing prompts, etc.) for this AU. Thanks!

Cassian forgets how he got into this arrangement with one of his best friend sister's. A girl who hated him with a burning passion that now comes by on Friday for some much needed mutual release.

AO3 Link: Chapter 1

Song 1

Song 2

Nesta's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Cassian's fingers slowly come out of her tracing her clitoris and watching as Nesta shakes still in the aftermath of her orgasm. He forgets how they got here, how he is fucking one of his best friend's sisters, the girl that hated him.

Nesta watches as Cassian lifts those wicked digits and places them in his mouth. This was a bit too intimate for they're arrangement, but Nesta doesn't say anything but moan.

Friday's were Cassian's favourite day of the week. Because it was the day that Nesta comes to his apartment right after work in her fucking pencil skirt ready for their stress relief sessions.

Nesta's hand goes down to his dick, feeling how hard he was for her - for sex. They both needed sex. Sex with no emotions, just mutual, glorious, release. He moans away his wishes for a cuddle after this round. She smiled at him with teeth, like a predator who caught their prey. Cassian watches her slide down his mattress. Watches her kneel at his knees as she licks her lips, ready to devour his everything.

"Nes," Cassian begs. She glares at him. She hated his nicknames, at least says she hated them, but when they're in the throes of passion, and he is whispering those nicknames like prayers, she smirks and says her own for him. "I don't want you to suck me off. Ride me." He begs. He likes to tease but doesn't like it when the teasing is on him.

"But I am returning the favour," she says, taking his dick in her pretty hands, hands that were meant to be in his hair, on his chest while she rides him to oblivion. She pumps him. "Will you ever let me have fun, batboy?" She wrinkles her nose as she brings her head down. Her tongue laps his dick's head and he shutters. Fuck.

Batboy, when did that turn into a thing? He looks up to his ceiling, trying to last long and not cum before she rides him. Her lips part and she sucks on his head. He moans deep and throaty, "Nes, sweetheart, I won't last if you tease me this way." Nesta hums, and he fists his sheets trying to calm himself down. He can feel her smirk as she takes her mouth off him to plant kisses along his length.

"I am sure we can get you nice and hard again. I plan to have my fun more than twice this evening, batboy." She licks her way back up.

Cassian sits up and takes her face. Nes pouts her fun being put to its end. Cassian smirks and leans in to kiss her deeply, which she melts back into quickly. Kissing used to be off-limits in this arrangement, but that to was no longer a thing.

Cassian takes her hips and moves her, so she straddles him. He runs his hands up to her breasts and pinches her nipples to get another moan out of this beautiful woman. How lucky for him to have a woman in his bed that he didn't need to take out on dates? He's sure though that if he took Nesta out, took her to see one of those god awful romcoms, deep down inside of him, he would like that. He deepens the kiss, trying to bury away these horrible thoughts out of his mind. He wouldn't want to ruin the kind of relationship (whatever this was) because he wanted to add emotions to it.

Nesta pulls back and sighs as she finally sits down on his dick. Cassian lets a hiss out between his teeth. She was so warm when he's deep inside of her. Which was very different from the Nesta he knows, the ice princess that gave cold shoulders to everyone along with those devastating icy glares.

"Work," she begins to complain, "was so crappy. I hate it when Casper talks to me as if I am two years old." She lifts her hips and sinks back down Cassian bites his lip half-listening to Nesta as she circles her hips when he is once again fully in her.

"And Tomas asked me out again." Cassian stiffens. In their pact, they said that once they have decided to try dating again this beautiful, arrangement would end—no more mind-blowing sex. No more head messages, blowjobs and no more tasting her with his tongue. No more hanging out in his apartment watching basketball or listening to Nesta's talk about work and her current books she's reading. No more giving Nesta foot messages after she takes off those overly tall heels she insists on wearing. No more pizza and spending Saturdays in bed worshipping her like the goddess she is.

Cassian takes a nipple in his mouth, playfully bitting it before licking away the pain. He was trying to hide his discomfort of the thought of going back to Nesta, hating him. The awkward family dinners at his brother's place, pretending to ignore Feyre's attempt to read his feeling towards her sister. Having to pretend that he was cool and that he never really thought this arrangement would ever last. But the truth is that he never wanted it to end.

"He can't get the fucking hint that I want nothing to do with him. How many times," she fastens her pace nudged on by Cassian's teasings on her sensitive nipples. "must I have to say no before he gets the hint. Cas, harder."

Cassian places his hands behind him so he could meet her hips with his thrusts. He watches her bend her head back, groaning out her pleasure. He lays back down and reaches his hands back to her clitoris. He needed her to climax again before he finishes. She leans back. How can a woman be so perfect? He must be the luckiest man in the world.

"Cas, oh, Cassian. You feel so good." How can she says thing like that to him and not catch feelings? Egged on, he rubs harder, and she shakes moaning out his name. "Cassian, fuck, Cas I-I lo- oh god," Nesta pants leaning forward to capture his lips before he flips them. He takes Nesta leg and hoists it over his shoulder, not breaking their kiss.

"Nes, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good," he huffs between kisses. Nesta drags her nails down his back, and he is putty, "you feel so fucking good."

"Cas. Cas, cum for me," she breaks their kiss and stares at him with her stormy grey eyes. Whatever she wants, he will give. And so with a final, "Nesta," he comes undone. Nesta smiles brightly and pulls at his bottom lip playfully.

"Good first round," she says as Cassian rolls off of her and gets up. She says it like it was a soccer game, congratulating her teammate. He winks at her over his shoulder as he takes off his condom to deposit in the bathroom garbage.

He comes back into his room, seeing Nesta sitting with her back on the headboard on her side of his bed. Because of course, she has her own side next to the window. In her hand is a novel. She's now sporting his t-shirt that she yanked off of him only mere minutes ago, with the duvet pulled up her legs for warmth. She was going to be the death of him. He walks over to her side and tugs on the hem of his shirt, trying to get her attention.

"You're not wearing pants," Nesta says, not looking up from her novel.

Cassian chuckles, "you seen the goods whats to hide for. Nothing to be ashamed of." He looks at Nesta with a smirk. She lifts her book higher. "I thought we're having another round." How could she possibly read when he has the perfect distraction? He couldn't even think of anything when Nesta was in any state of undress near him.

"I was waiting for you; you took a while in the bathroom," she says, placing her book on her nightstand. Her smile is devilish. She leans toward Cassian with a wink before pressing her lips to his.

They kiss for a while. It was less than a peck to start the mode and more of making out and forgetting about the fucking part. Cassian leans her back down on the bed and just kisses her senselessly. She nips her lips before Cassian peppers his kisses down her jaw to her long neck. She moves her head to give him access. "You're so good with your mouth," she sighs. Cassian smiles into her throat. She probably knows the amount of power she has over him by this point. She was making him ooey-gooey inside and out. How his arms give out, and his stomach is full of butterflies.

He moves back to her lips and deepens their kiss. "You're wearing my shirt," he says.

"It looks better on me," she replies. No argue there. She looks fantastic in his clothes. He slides his hands towards the hem of his shirt to remove it off of her. As his finger touch her hips, his phone begins to ring. "Don't," Nesta starts, gripping his hair to keep his face on her neck, "pick up the fucking phone."

Cassian huffs, he really doesn't want to pick up his phone, but he was on call. He bites her lip, getting her to loosen her grip so he can sit up. "Cas," she whines. Nesta never whines. Cassian had to restrain himself before he pounced to make her feel better. He leans over to his side of the bed to pick up his charging cellphone. Azriel's name pops up.

"Hey, Az," Cassian greets with a gruff voice. He really didn't want to pick up his phone. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Nesta pinching her nipples through his shirt. That fucking minx. Her eyes are dark as she watched him with a devious smirk. "Can you make this quick."

"Cas, Rhys has ordered an urgent meeting at his place. He needs assistants with a possible firewall breach, and he needs his people here as soon as possible."

Cassian closes his eyes; he opens to flick over to Nesta, who had moved his duvet off her lap so she can show him his true home. Her fingers circle her clitoris, her eyes questioning why he hasn't ended the call.

"I'll be there," Cassian finally says, watching Nesta raise an eyebrow.

"See you in a bit." Az line goes dead.

Nesta removes her hands from her clit when Cassian gets up and starts to gather clean clothes. "So, I guess tonight's entertainment is over," Nesta sighs, also getting up. She removes his shirt off of herself. She picks up her underwear and slips them on. Cassian passes her a wrinkly blouse and her pencil skirt.

"There's a potential security breach at work, and they need me to attend a meeting to plan our next steps. Trust me, I wish we could continue," his voice holds promise as he watches Nesta hoist up her skirt, tugging it over her magical ass. He wished he could have lied, said he wasn't feeling well. But he was too loyal, a fault that Nesta bullies him on. "I would ask you to stay, but I don't know how long this is going to be."

The idea of having Nesta waiting in his bed for him to come home made his dick strain against his boxers. He fixes his dick before he slips on his slacks. He can feel Nesta's eyes on his ass. She enjoyed his body as much as he enjoyed hers.

"It's fine; I should head home," Nesta moves towards the door to go to the living room where her shoes and bag were. Cassian grasps Nesta's elbow lightly before she leaves.

"You are coming by sometime this weekend?" She was a drug, and this little fix he had with her was not enough to sustain him till next Friday.

"We'll have to see. Feyre is hosting brunch this Sunday. Maybe we'll see each other." Cas gives her a wicked smirk. See each other; they will. His mind goes back to the last rendezvous they had at Feyre and Rhysand's townhouse. The sneaking around to the upstairs bathroom to have a quick dirty fuck on the bathroom counter because he couldn't keep his hands and his eyes off of her. He needed her so badly when she somehow was able to play onesided footsie during breakfast, how she would catch glances at him when no one was looking. He wasn't so lucky with the knowing looks coming from both Az and Feyre, who apparently knew he was in deep shit.

His eyes darken as he pulls her closer, catching her lips to his. He almost forgets that he has to put on his shirt and head over to the office when Nesta opens her lips to him. Her tongue ran against his. He breaks away his breathing heavy. "You wicked, wicked woman." He takes her hand and places it over his erection that was restricted in his slacks. Slacks that she picked out for him. She smiles and kisses his lips again.

"Can you wait till Sunday to fuck me?" She asks with a knowing look. He grunts as she strokes him through his pants. "I am sure my batboy can wait." She ruins him when she says things like that—claiming him when she doesn't want anything but his cock and mouth. He sometimes likes to think that they were together when she claims him like that. That he was her's alone, which he was since this arrangement started, he hadn't thought of taking another woman when he had already found his match.

"They can wait another half an hour. Let me in you one last time," he almost begs, leaning in for another kiss. She leans back and turns to leave his room.

"Sunday, batboy. I look forward to it." She sways her ass as she leaves. Cassian sighs and once again adjust himself before looking for a sweater that could hide his bulge.

[sasorikigai]

@sonxflight​ gets the assassin/hitman (💥)

💥 || Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; for the most massive characters are seared with scars, and Hanzo Hasashi has accumulated ample amount of them, both physical and mental, as he served as his clan’s executioner, a deliverer of justice by only the finality of death as their eternal, irreversible punishment. Scorpion always will find Ryou Sakai in the dark, for they are frenzied equivalents coming together in poignant waves of heat, even in the throes of further annihilation and tribulations. The construct of unfurled time in front of him stares down at him, munching away on his precious and valuable time. Hanzo Hasashi’s hostile mind remains perturbed, beneath the nagging thoughts of vicious cycle playing over and over as his countenance etches with full of gloominess and melancholia. 

It’s palpable that he is letting his breaths to be relinquished, as the propelling flurries of his locked elbows and devastating haymakers plunge over and over again against the assailant, his own weight the finality of casket this fucker would never get. Death is the only thing that is guaranteed in his wretched life full of injustices and unfairness, and even as Hanzo Hasashi unleashes devastation, after waves and waves, he thinks of Harumi and Satoshi - unrestrained through the gleaming ripple of his hardened stone eyes. Rising and falling, again and again and again, as he would perpetually pull them into his heart, no matter what the circumstances. This unpredictable climate that he lives in, where the wildest storms dominate the skies, followed by glorious, and yet ephemeral summer day, and despite the undercurrent of uncertainty, Hanzo Hasashi and Ryou Sakai remain relatively sane, lest he himself gradually begins to tatter beneath the ravaging force and celerity of its might. 

He obsesses with love and sadness, and consequently everything that becomes of it. He also lusts over carnal rapture, and its exquisite desire, because Hanzo wants only to know the intensity of things he feels, which has a solid, tangible place in the world. Violence becomes this terrible, beautiful, and poisonous thing - a winter hellebore blooming in the snow. He may have long signed the coffin path, being macerated and dissected beneath the reigning bullets, if not, detonated fragments ripping through his mortal flesh like knife through melted butter, but his bones are adamantine, his flesh steeled, his countenance deadpan and phlegmatic amidst the brewing firestorm ravaging in his core, stirring something within him. 

His own blood becomes the slashing rain and the roar of tempest; deafening, which had to course for war. Red of ear-ringing rage combined with his lust to drown out all the subjugating doubts of fighting the dejection. No longer hollowed shell of a battered self, revived and revivified under the torrents of his jabs and hooks and roundhouse kicks to the fuckers’ heads... He is oblivious to his bleeding wounds, as his glistening musculature, bare and all, even without his loaded glock, ebbs and flows greatly. A beast once dormant gone unleashed, as tousled  disarray of his being lands a final blow to the last man’s head, a devastating thud that would echo through his own knuckles as he lets out a strained grunt. 

“I’m no fucking domestic creature awaiting to be feasted by my demons. I am the fucking demon himself, an indomitable force. You fuckers don’t stand the chance to absorb the strength, for fucking fuck’s sakes,” his voice, gravelled with misuse and a tinge of sleep, cuts through the static noise of his own ringing head; hypnotic torrent lulling his body to sink, but his soul to be hyper-alert. Rage must ease after battles fought, and Hanzo Hasashi sinks against the foot of their bed. As opposed to hope and love, with Harumi’s voice still playing on his imagination, and he sprawls, with descending rivulets of blood bursting from his temple, as searing headache renders his sun-kissed flesh rubicund, nearly the color of crushed pomegranates.  💥 ||

[sitp-recs]

I was tagged by the lovely and talented @shealwaysreads thanks Bella!

slowburn or love at first sight - the easiest choice of all amirite

fake dating or secret dating - BOTH IS GOOD, gimme all the awkwardness and longing and sneaking around, some bed sharing and first kiss rehearsals and semi public sex 👌🏼

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers - pls don’t make me choose, I live for the first but I’m so soft for the other - why not enemies to friends to lovers???

there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence - is there anyone who can resist bed sharing? Certainly not me, I’m pretty sure it’s been unanimously chosen as the #1 cliché trope of all times

hurt-comfort or amnesia - amnesia fics are usually a hit or miss for me but yes, MAKE THEM HURT and cry in all the ways that matter

fantasy au or modern au - I don’t care much for HP AUs, but I’m all for modern AUs in my other fandoms - coffee shop AU, rentboy AU, college AU, neighbors AU, roommates AU, gimme all the infinite scenarios where these two idiots meet and fall in love again and again 💗

mutual pining or domestic bliss - ugh I can’t choose! Love myself some intense and disorienting yearning but I’m also so soft for established relationships and their easy, unhurried domesticity ;-;

smut or fluff - porn with feels for breakfast and lunch and dinner, pls and thank

canon-compliant or fix-it - I mean, I feel like everything I read is a perfect mix of both anyway, AS IT SHOULD BE

reincarnation or character death  - not a big fan of either, but if I gotta choose...

one-shot or multichapter - both, both is good :D

kid fic or road trip fic - (almost) anything over kid fic for me. I haven’t read a Drarry road trip fic yet, that would be cool!

arranged marriage or accidental marriage - two tropes I don’t read much so I’m choosing the 1st mainly because of @bixgirl1’s glorious That Old Black Magic

high school romance or middle aged romance - I’ve read a few high school AUs for other pairings, but I’m WEAK for middle aged Drarry, especially if it’s a cathartic break up/make up or divorced dads finding each other, jam 👌🏼

time travel or isolated together - time travel is always fun but oof forced proximity all the way, make them fuck break under extreme circumstances 

neighbours or roommates - will have both any day, especially if it comes with the tasty intimacy+jealousy+voyeurism combo... good food 🤤

sci-fi au or magic au - magic AU for my other fandoms and sci-fi AU for HP! Is there any? I need recs!

body swap or genderbent - hmm I don’t really read (or care about) these much

angst or crack - ANGST ANGST ANGST 

apocalyptic or mundane - I almost wanna say mundane because I love slice of life and my body is NOT READY for another apocalypse AU now In the Dark by @bixgirl1 exists but what can I say, I love the quiet devastation of a doomed love story. The haunting atmosphere, the frantic pacing, the desperate life-affirming sex...

Tagging @wynnefic, @peachbabypie, @bellmir, @veelawings and @drarryruinedme7 if you haven’t done this yet, and whoever wants to play! Feel free to @ me :)

[opes-magnas]

those two days.

A wise man once said, ”The bad news is, nothing lasts forever and the good news is, nothing lasts forever.”

That’s freaking bullshit. Whoever told that hasn’t gone through the amount of trauma I’ve been through, which made every single moment feel like an eternity. Oh wait! I should’ve explained it more graphically.

Every single second felt like I was being skinned alive and being rolled over in salt and then fried in burning hot oil, then my limbs being torn out of my body and I could probably go on forever. In short, my time as a mortal on this planet has been miserable.

My mother and father were the epitome of love, they were the ideal couple who fell in love as soon they laid eyes on each other and the middle of their story is so cliché I’d rather let you imagine it in the most typical way possible and the end of it is, they got married!

They sadly never had their happily ever after cause they then got pregnant with me.

(After 9 months of my mother craving weird things)

He kept pacing the length of the waiting room, anxious, his face was dripping with perspiration and his brows were knitted in deep thought, his hands were clasping and unclasping and fidgeting with his jacket.

* Piano playing a sad note*

He hears the OR doors opening and rushes towards the doctor and shakes that poor guy until he’s pale. The doctor says that there were a lot of complications with his wife’s pregnancy and that they could save only one of them, and his wife told them to save his child and that he now has a healthy 4.5 pound baby boy.

He fell to the ground. How could he even live without his beloved wife! His moon and stars, his better half! He felt so utterly devastated.

Sometimes when people lose the very thing that defines their life, the very thing that they lived and breathed for, they lose faith and when that happens there is no coming back.

I think this was that moment for my father. I’ve always wondered how anyone could love anything so intensely. But I guess love is a very elusive thing which sadly won’t fit into the bounds of words.

I can try to make sense of though, from what I’ve seen, love is when my father returned home after a tired day of work and as soon as he saw the face that opened the door, he could find calmness in spite of all the chaos surrounding him. One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I couldn’t see and feel that pure unconditional love.

Anyways, in my bittersweet flashback my father also gets to know that it was my mother’s intentional decision to give her life in order to save mine.

So, from that day my father loathed to see my face. As every time he looked at me, I reminded him of the day he lost the purpose of his life. He became an alcoholic and just gave me money to do whatever the hell I want with it.

I never actually went to school regularly, used to bunk most of the time. But that didn’t matter because I passed somehow by cheating and my street smartness. But, it really hit me when I flunked my senior year and all of my friends went to Ivy League colleges, while I was left to attend my dreadful senior year AGAIN with a bunch of crackpots.

Though, that wasn’t the part that made me lose my sense of self- dignity. It was when the look of nonchalance on my father’s face when he heard the former news. Even this far in life I didn’t have goal or any plans to look forward to. This part kept me most of the nights and stole any little peace of mind I had left.

Then I attended community college in hopes of at least getting proper education. In college, I couldn’t stick to any one major for a year as I was pretty fickle minded about it.

One sunny happy day, birds are chirping, I’m braying Beyoncé’s halo and enter the college premises to see this guy snogging my girlfriend. My fury knows no bounds as I beat the shit out of him then I get to know that my girlfriend had been cheating on me with him for many months. But, it was too late to reconsider my actions as I had probably broken 50 of his bones oops!

Then I got slapped an assault case and got expelled from college for disgracing them. This particular joke that I’m about to say is a big touché moment but humour at my expense has been a trend I’ve experienced everywhere so hell with it.

I got expelled from a freaking community college with drug addicts, goons, people who have flunked their freshman year about 3 times go to. And I have been expelled from such a college for “disgracing them”!!!

Go on laugh yourself out.

But a tiny ray of hope appeared after a jumbo combo of disappointment with a side of bad luck and a dollop of ugly fate. I was discovered by the basketball scouts and got a chance to play in the local league and if I did play well, I had a chance of playing ball in college! They absolutely loved me. I had gotten so used to people being disappointed in me that I was so unsure of myself when people really appreciated me.

But as you know of my series fuck ups I had to screw this one too. But, this one was the most epic of them all. I had a few shots in before the game just to you know, bring that edge.

During the game, when I was passed the ball, my drunken brain thought it was the head of my ex-girlfriend and I started smashing the ball against my head (which my brain thinks as a pathetic attempt of kissing “her” or rather “it”). So, at the end, everyone thought I was some lunatic and I got kicked off the field (literally).

I finally let go of all the little self-respect I had and applied for a job as a cashier at McDonalds. And the reply from them was the single most embarrassing moment of my life.

I got rejected!

Then I heard a call saying that my grandpa had died but he had also left me the family mansion, which I assume is out of pity for being ignored for most of my life. This was just in time (not my grandpa’s death of course! Gee I’m not so devoid of emotion!) as I was being kicked out of my apartment due to not paying rent for past 3 months and needed a place to crash.

But, aside from that I was a 23 year old man with no job, no girlfriend, and no degrees to show for, no friends and absolutely broke. I should be the poster boy for the word “miserable” (at least that way I’ll make some profit out of my pathetic existence of a life).

The mansion looks absolutely beautiful from outside. It has a huge dome at the centre with 2 parapets flanking its either sides. The entire dome is made of tinted blue glass which makes it look like it’s a part of the sky but a glistening one filled with hand painted butterflies, hummingbirds, Macau’s and various other exotic species of birds.

The front lawn is as exorbitant as a rare and secret meadow left untouched by mankind, where the flowers unknown grow at their own liberty, unrestricted where bees hover over them making a slight buzzing sound . The whole estate looks so unreal and glorious, it is like a medieval castle left untouched.

But, all I could feel by looking at it was dejection. I felt even this wonderful piece of architecture was looming over and looking at me in pity. I sighed heavily and gathered my meagre possessions and stepped inside.

It was even more splendid from the inside. I don’t know what I’ll do with so much space, I could fit all of my things in the pantry closet! I just lay down on the plush divan to take a small nap because thinking about my wretched life made my mind blackout and heavy like I’d had a few too many tequila shots.

“Poor boy, how can anyone’s life be so tragic and pitiable!?” said pride, wiping off the tears rolling down its cheek, “I know what a troubled childhood feels like, even my mother was too haughty to admit that she had become too fat because of giving birth to me and she never looked at me with a hint of motherly affection, it totally damaged my self-confidence.”

“As if you ever had it to begin with! You appeared to be so full of yourself in front of people but deep down you’re a pathetic little wimp!”

“Stop it envy! See, you made him cry, aren’t you living up to your name! Always jealous of others! I know it’s like we can invade his privacy, by taking a peek at his thoughts, but this boy can’t even defend himself. He doesn’t get angry at all when people talk all sorts of things about him! How can he even live with himself!”

“Now now, anger you don’t upset yourself too much, your BP is gonna skyrocket. All this boy needs to do is to get laid man! He so uptight, he needs to loosen up a little and take a chill pill.”

“I totally agree with you, said Sloth, he needs to take some time out for himself and have a little self’-introspective nap once in a while right, Glutton?”

“All you ever do is take naps! And anyways he needs to round up and appear fuller, he’s such a scrawny kid! Eat more spaghetti and meatballs!”

“You’re awfully quiet Greed, speak up man this isn’t like you! You’re always complaining that you don’t as much time to speak”.

“Yeah dude, it’s just I’ve never seen any man not having even basic survivalist desires. We gotta help this fella.”

“Okay then roll up your sleeves gentlemen and ugh *cough* cough* sorry woman, we got some work to do!”

I opened my eyes and nearly peed myself in the pants, in front of me were six men and woman, I screamed like a cat dunked in a bucket of water!

“Hey Yo mate, chill down, we’re just here to help”, said a boy who was in his teens clearly by the amount of acne on his face and the ripped jeans and hoodie he wore further justified my guess, he wore a badge called “sloth”

What a weird name, I thought. Who would like to be named after the sloth bear!

“Yo, for the fact the sloth bear was named after me!”

“Now, sloth you need to follow your own words, the boy must be scared shitless. By the way, I’m Greed, nice to meet you too and that rude fellow was Sloth.”, spoke a middle aged man with a rather baggy shirt and tight jeans.

“Guys let’s introduce ourselves to make it easier for him. Hello young fellow, I’m Glutton!”, said a shirtless man whose abs glistened with sweat as though he’d come from a workout.

“Hello kitten, I’m Anger.”, said a strikingly beautiful woman with a purple dress synched at the waist with a Gucci belt and black stilettos.

“Greetings from the better part of hell dear, I’m Envy.”, said a man with a formal attire and red horn-rimmed glasses.

“Morning, I’m Pride.”, said a tall man wearing an expensive Armani suit, reebok sunglasses and slick blonde hair.

“Hi, I’m Lust.” ,he whispered, God he must be the male-version of Aphrodite! He was enough to turn a straight man like me, gay.

(I gave such detailed description of them, as they keep recurring and I wanted you guys to see them exactly like I did.)

“Umm. Hi, I’m max I guess.”, I blurted.

“God! We need to work on your self-confidence boy! Okay I’ll tell you why we’re here. While you were napping, we looked into your past and thought you might need a little boost to help you live a better life. So, each of us will help you in their own area of expertise and ooh! I almost forgot we are here only for two days, so buckle up!”

Have become schizophrenic?! I am hearing voices in my head!

“Relax honey, we are visible and audible only to you.”, Anger said.

“Humph okay, what should I do to get rid of you lot?”

Quit the sarcasm brother, first we need to get a good workout. Come on move your ass, and Glutton then pulled me away for what seemed like forever and made me workout like hell. The workout was so intense, I was so sore I couldn’t move a muscle and every time I got up my butt ached.

But, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes, my body looked like it was photo shopped! Six pack abs, killer thighs, amazing collar bone and to top it off a chiseled jaw! I looked like a Greek God!

Then, without wasting a minute, Sloth whisked me into the kitchen which was filled with amazing food and magazines. He told me, “You know what mate, you need to take some time out for yourself and make yourself happy once in a while.”

I never forgot those words.

I ate to my stomach’s fill, of course only healthy foods allowed (Glutton approved- check). Then my slot was with Anger.

We took a walk and were talking everyday stuff when she pulled me into a McDonald’s. I resisted as I had just eaten the feast of my life, but she insisted and made me sit down in a booth.

“Sometimes anger in the right direction is okay.”

Then a waiter came and asked for our order, before we could even blink an eye, he started bellowing out like a cow belching and started telling people that I was the specimen of a man who got rejected even from a McDonald’s job and thought a ball was his ex-girlfriend!

People around me started taking selfies and snaps of me and posting it on social media.

Anger whispered, “You need to defend your honour, sugar. No one is going to do it for you.”

I mustered all the courage I had left in me and punched that guy in his face. I pulled Anger away and we made for the run.

After the running all the way to house, I told her, “I never felt so exhilarated and satisfied in my entire life!”

“But, remember kitten, anger only in the right direction and for the right cause, like you defending your honour for example.”

Will remember, Ms. Anger.

Then Pride and Greed approached me together and took me into my room and gave my laptop.

“Listen son, you are quite capable and intelligent, all you need is to believe in yourself a little more and go after the things you want.” , Pride said. “So you need to write an essay to get into Ivy League colleges with full scholarship, so begin writing.”

I bit my lip. Just believe in yourself.

Then I wrote my essay by pulling an all-nighter and submitted it.

I could feel someone shaking me hardly, I rubbed my eyes and opened them reluctantly only to see Greed pulling off my blankets and telling me to get ready for a small basketball session.

We then drove over to the Baltimore city gym, I then realized he had brought me to the basketball try-outs for the city’s team!

Believe in yourself.

After almost half a day, we returned home then Lust dragged me into various clothing stores and dressed me up and told me to remember one girl who had impacted me the most.

Then, I thought how I could miss the one girl who stood with me through thick and thin! She never doubted me! Suddenly I could remember all the subtle hints she gave throughout the time we were friends, and I, a fool, never paid her enough attention, trying to go after girls who were popular!

Oh Sarah! Then I saw the smirk on Lust’s face and knew he was the one who helped me clear my thoughts.

He murmured, “Go! You moron.”

I rushed to my car and drove to Sarah’s house and almost punched a hole into her front door trying to knock.

The door opened, and when I saw her face, I found calm in midst of all chaos of my mind, guess I finally got to see the true love I always yearned for.

I gave her my true confession with gulps in between.

She told, “I thought you’d never realize.”

I pulled her waist close to me, and whispered in her ear, “Better late than never” and tucked the hair on her cheek behind her ear and kissed her like I’d never see her again.

Well, two days passed within a blink of an eye, and yet I have changed so much, grown into a better man. Oh! Only Envy hadn’t had his chance to speak to me.

I then told Sarah I’d see her tomorrow and drove back to the house to see all of them standing on my front porch. I got down and t and went and hugged each one knowing it was time to say our goodbyes.

Envy stepped forward, “Max, we always knew you were a special young man, but always remember that when you succeed, there are always gonna be people who will envy you and try to bring you down, you have to then remember how hard you worked to get there and say, fuck you assholes and stay put.”

“I love you guys; do you have to go?”

“Yes child, but we will be watching you, okay?”

Goodbye.

When I was going to unlock the front door, I saw my reflection on the glass, and I then I realized that I was always like this, but I never saw myself for what I really am.

I measured my life by milestones and achievements all along, never realizing those small moments where I was the best possible version of myself.

I guess, the old wise man was correct.

Epilogue – After a year

I am so busy right now, I don’t even have the time to write this, but I know you guys I are curious of what happened after that.

I got selected to play college ball for Princeton University with a full scholarship. Sarah and I are in a very serious relationship and we are thinking of getting married after college, oh and by the way, she also got accepted to Princeton.

I also work as a part time model for Vogue (who knew!) I think I may be playing for the NBA next year.

And I made things right with my father and actually forgave him of all his shortcomings.

I am so grateful and happy for those two days last year, though I still think my mind is playing tricks with me as I went back the McDonald’s store and asked the guy whom I punched if he remembered me and he gave this weird look .

Anyways, you guys might have thought I have finally achieved something, but I think otherwise. I am still so very insecure about myself in a thousand different ways. But when I wake up in the morning, I am so grateful for being given this life in contrast to before when I used to wonder my purpose.

~ Lady Lazarus

[brolinjosh]

endgame review

i’ve waited 24 hours for my endgame feels to sink in. spoilers and strong opinions are under the cut.

first i need to start with the parts that i loved and that made the movie stand out and be memorable and parts that i immensely enjoyed:

- tony and nebula’s friendship and nebula’s arc later. she finally stopped being self destructive, lost the desire to please thanos and stood up for herself. she made a strong bond with gamora and even in the past, that bond stood out and it was beautiful. she got more screen time and stopped being just a weapon. got to play games, got to be appreciated for more than a good warrior. joked with people and made good friendships.

- tony telling steve off. tony stan here, but unbiased opinion is that him and steve had a falling out. steve stayed on earth and tony ended up stranded on an alien planet and nearly died. he is a non powered man and only had his armor and got stabbed by thanos and he has never felt more alone than when oxygen was slowly running out on him and nebula. he should have argued and called him out on them sticking together, and he had every right to do so.

- whole time travel thing. it was nostalgic, i am really glad they connected this, as last movie, to the previous ones. thor getting his moment with frigga, tony commenting on shape of steve’s ass, loki disappearing with tesseract, little things like that. they gave movie depth and not just thanos aftermath. 

- steve had some show stopping scenes. telling himself he could do this all day and being tired of himself bc he knows how big of a pain in the ass he can be in the battle?? hell yes thank you. steve wielding mjolnir?? legit had me cheering, wig snatched. 

- i genuinely liked thor’s arc. he lost everyone he had ever cared about, it was normal for him to be depressed and angry and that he had given up. i am glad rocket snapped him out of it because it gave rocket depth and we saw how deeply he connected to all of them and decided not to be an asshole and be kinder to people that surround him. it showed another part of them being a family and how even characters we never thought would love each other this way, ended up with an unbreakable bond that is more than just a team work.

- more screen time for underappreciated amazing characters, james rhodes, scott lang, clint barton. more of their interactions and showing how funny and smart they are??? they had my heart.

- i LOVED professor hulk. mark ruffalo finally got more screen time and it showed how smart bruce really is and that he is not just some likable guy who is intelligent, but not as much as other scientists (like scenes with shuri in infinity war that i loved because of shuri, but in past movies they downplayed his intellect a bit). i loved how he was more confident and at peace with himself.

- thanos!!! thanos remained a formidable villain and his arc was still the best villain arc in mcu. he is not easy to take on , he is a threat and he gave movie and everything that happened a meaning.

- best mcu scene to this day - strange opening portals and people passing through, ready to slay enemies. all united, all fighting together, all boosting and helping each other out in this final battle that we waited for 10 years??? literally killed every other movie battle ever. they have outdone themselves.

- peter seeing tony and talking about soul stone world, not realizing that everything was done for him and out of love for this amazing boy?? beautiful.

- TONY FUCKING STARK WIELDING INFINITY GAUNTLET. YES. had me yell at the screen, it was showstopping. my favorite scene ever in movie history. mere mortal taking on the fate of the world and killing every bad creature and smiting thanos himself. CONTENT I LIVE FOR.

- valkyrie a king??? hell yes, she deserved it. no one more than her. 

now, things that ruined the movie for me and that i do not think i will easily accept or forgive:

- i understand that in the end, since natasha and clint went to vormir, in the end had me desiring that she would be the one to give up, since he has a family. but it’s not supposed to be that way. natasha seemed out of character the whole time. she was way more emotional, i partially understand because she lost everything and it has affected her more than anything ever. but it was bad writing. woman dying for shock value and to effect men??? why. she just started expressing herself and letting know people she loves them and really connected and bonded with them and have her go like that? as a sacrifice? uncalled for.

- pepper’s arc bugged me the whole time. woman who was there from the beginning to call tony out on his shit, also was a woman who stopped him from doing reckless things. she was always the one who kept arguing with him, literally in every movie, over his desire to save the world and to protect them. he told her he found a way to bring everyone back, but one word from her (something she was terrific at), and he would ditch it and stay with their family. and this is the first time she encouraged him to do something so reckless and it was poor overshadowing of his death and insanely out of character for her. she knew how it would end and she kept saving him from himself, because he was always terrified of losing her and in a way that stopped him from doing what he did years ago. they had a family and in the end . her showing up in an armor had me in tears, because that’s my gal, but also that is incredibly reckless and like she didn’t think things through in 2-3 scenes she had in the movie?? 

- i’m in it for tony. naturally i am upset. but not because he died, but because of HOW he died. naturally gauntlet took a toil on him. his body was combusting. it was devastating. what killed me was that pepper, love of his life, approached him and seemed like she had kind of a bad day. asked for his vitals and when told he is dying, she shed a tear and told him that he could rest. it blew my mind that she did not crumble in front of him, no “ i love you” nothing that would be her last words to him that showed him that he meant the world. he knew that, but would have been nice to have something like that. ALSO, him not being able to speak??? BEYOND OUTRAGED. no actual goodbyes, no him saying anything to the avengers, just lying like he had a stroke. the best character with the most complicated arc in the entire marvel universe and did something unimaginable and to have him just fall and not say goodbye or how he feels, or is he afraid of dying or what is happening to him??? “ i am iron man” is a great line for taking on thanos, but as last words while he is alive, unsatisfying and writing for shock value. peter crying, hugging him, apologizing , that was beautiful. everyone who he had just given his life for just standing aside, looking at him, shedding one tear???? steve? STEVE ROGERS???? JAMES RHODES??? no goodbyes between best friends, no them being wrecked and having breakdowns??? really?

- steve’s ending. it was the most out of character thing russos have ever done. they became famous for taking on characters in their own ways, but steve, person who had such strong relationships with tony, bucky and sam, leaving bucky and sam for a selfish cause of going back in time to a woman who already had a fulfilling life and found a way to live without him?? who had a husband and family? who was accomplished and her heartbreak over losing steve gave her depth and she got out stronger than ever. and he just went back and her whole history and family was erased for it, because he loved her and they shared one kiss a lifetime ago? steve going back to do this and not free bucky from hydra or help his best friend out, a man who he started civil war over and fought government for, steve leaving bucky and sam, people who have been with him through thick and thin, going back to indulge himself, thinking he cannot be happy in present, not thinking about two people who have to now live on without him? bucky who never got a decent time with him after ca:tfa, who’s life has been nothing but a shitstorm, now having to live without his best friend and only person that felt like a home? insanity. steve rogers, the most self-sacrificial, stubborn little shit, who gave enemies hell for people he cared about, leaving people behind? never. 

in conclusion, for me movie did nothing but upset me, because i have invested 10 years into this, countless hours of writing meta and giffing scenes that went unnoticed, loving these characters, pouring my heart and soul and time into this, and for them to kill off people for shock value, natasha and tony, to have them fuck up steve’s arc beyond words, to end relationships or to make them meaningless.... they did pay an omage to previous movies, but not characters  and how they were previously portrayed. tony, man who started mcu, should not die for us to be miserable bastards after spending so much time in this universe, he should have gotten to live a happy life with the family he had just started. 

in the end, if anyone had to die, for me it was supposed to be both steve and tony, in a battle, bloody with glorious goodbyes, their last battle, showing each other how they would lay their lives so the other one lives, sacrificing for each other, but have both biggest characters die gloriously, not one like he had a stroke and second one grow old and selfish, abandoning his friends and family.

in the end, i did not like the movie. first marvel movie to this day that i didn’t like, because it was first that erased so many good things. 

[deviationdivine]

My Desecrated Love (machine!Connor x Reader)

TLDR: In the heart of the battlefield you will not accept the fate of this profane love...

Word Count: 4.5K Follower!Celebration

TW: Angst (Heavy-Suicide), Android Gore, Language, Smut (Heavy), Violence 

A/N: !100 Follower Celebration!: While my poll is open I still wanted to write up something to celebrate the milestone for you guys. I’ve had an influx of more followers since I announced the celebration so I feel it’s the right time to post! This went off the rails into some serious territory so please if you are uncomfortable with any trigger listed skip over loves. I’m not big on the machine!Connor path but I’ve been sucked into my angsty headcanons for him. Thanks to you loves for following, requesting, commenting and being precious beans. 

You let me desecrate you

Ferocious. Devouring. Endless.

Machines do not die or so he told you. Does a lie reveal fallacy? Can it show truth denied so vehemently? 

He denied. Deviancy, feeling and love all parts to a whole that somehow he tears away by choice. Choice itself paints him deviant by heart but not this one. Never will this harbinger of decay spreading his plague over revolution shun mission for emotion.  Still it did not cease this communion of flesh. 

Siphoning life from your body that he takes on willing pleas cast out luscious, sinfully aware you are nothing. To him you are just a means. One that loves him all the same but he does not love. He chooses not to in order to unleash chaos. 

A man-made monster all wire and metallic. You love his unnatural existence. Unnatural as all androids deemed by their creators but Connor is beyond. He is the night shade that poisons your heart.

An all too willing bride to a heinous creation built to destroy all he touches. The moment you saw him should have been enough to know. He marked you from the start.

Never have you felt so close to heaven. In his eyes seemingly soft but all part of programming engineered by Cyberlife.

RK800 most advanced equipped with latest technologies. Programmed to be sociable, to gain camaraderie, integration in the most efficient way possible and he slithered into your soul.

RK800 is a machine not a man at all. Oh but what a man. What a glorious image of the perfect God who lays waste to sinners. He lays waste to deviants. His own kind he will do anything to destroy. 

Not once does he die. Not once does he succumb to failure. Each step casts his shadow like a reaper stretching bony fingers out for a touch of extermination.

That touch burns acidic but you love his astringency. Bitter to taste, salivating in want of his sour tongue. He is raging, dominant and yours. Foolish to think he truly is when he is Mephistopheles incarnate. Deal with the devil calls a deal to your death.

Weaponry is his scythe. Cyberlife jacket flapping in the wind is his cloak.

Can a person really love a monster? Yes.

Can a person love death itself? Yes.

Just ask Persephone.

Connor is god of the real underworld of Detroit. Filled with filthy red ice dealers, insane deviants who kill their masters; Connor is death riding on a pale horse. And you love death with all of your heart. If only he were alive. If only he became alive instead of making you suffer this love. 

Oh, how much you suffer. Oh, how gladly you do. For this cruel, violating, unholy love that should not exist but it does exist eternally.  

If he were flesh and bone his tendrils would hang listlessly, pouring scarlet into white. If he were of warm blood he would bleed a puddle of crimson horror. Throat torn apart in vocal chords, internal matter and cells that make up a human’s DNA. If he were not machine life would run cherry rich, staining frost even as it ends.

He is not human. He bleeds blue twilight as the hour itself shades in endless sky.

Bodies lay to waste. Snow flutters a chilly dust. Continuously flakes fall in a frigid blanket over an impromptu graveyard. Dead deviants strewn across field of ice left where they lost their last artificial breath. Center of it all a most sacrilegious figure. Sprawled out like a king struck down before his time, great majesty torn asunder and there he resides.

He is a statue eyes raised to night sky. Floundering amid this Detroit air crisp and still scented with gunfire this is a battlefield. It is a glorious frontier laid to waste. Wars are fought not won. They are casualty and blood. There is no victory. No one returns from the front unscathed. Not even your vicious carnage that you long to feel.

Silence permeates casting a shroud on this night of revolution. One terror is felled despite a sure fall of android revolution.

“Connor!”

Your scream penetrates stillness creating its own rage. Breaking open the sky itself unleashes hellfire on all that stands in the way of this unhealthy, terrifying love. Anguish obliterates whatever pieces are still left. Knees crash beside his body. Lying in irreverential crucifixion, arms displayed towards desecrated heavens. A beast brought down when he can never be tamed.

Crawling up his chest brings tear stains in drops. Falling in a torrent they clash with thirium staining grotesquely from his severed throat. Washing away is not enough. Internal circuitry sparks a final dying ember of red. Carnage that bled from his lips, ones that feast, connects brutally with yours. 

Instead they stain blue in splotchy abstracts highlighted against visible white plastic. Partially his skin is deactivated up to bottom lip.

Impact of the blow fiercely damaged his synthetic layer. Shutting it off where his throat was mechanically slit.

Even smearing thirium all over your hands clutching at his head, your lips still meet atop his. The first gentle kiss that ever passed between mortal and almighty. Thirium glistens on your chin after pulling away. You do not wipe it away. It is from him. You want him to remain.

Inside you he still digs deep. Nothing will destroy this. No one will take your Connor from you. No one on this god’s green earth!

Throwing your head back to unleash this devastating scream unmakes the last vestiges of life. Hollowness is core. Scream bellow the torment still no one will hear. Lost you are lost without your one desire even as he remains machine.

Through blurry vision you find his gun. Lying amid snow where he fell. So close but far from his hand.

Stretching fingers out for the weapon brings it close to cradle. Nurturing his method of execution you stroke the barrel. Checking the rounds there are two bullets. Two as there are two lovers amid warfare.

“Footprints,” a hoarse whisper grazes your throat. Raw from releasing this agony but you ignore. Staring where you picked up the gun they are clearly printed. They travel. Thirium travels along with them. Thirium not spilled from Connor.

Peering across the expanse of android death there is but one place. A Cyberlife Store…

The rest is of no use or matter. None of them matter lying here. Only he does!

Collateral damage is scenery to your reunion. Death is your honeymoon.

You stroke his hair. Loving how those soft strands always felt tangled and pulled through fingers. He may lie dead but that is fine. You will meet this death with him.

A smile graces divinely. In his presence you feel as if worshiped by a god. Oh, how close he took you. So close. The nozzle of gun shifts. Pressing lips along the barrel you can almost kiss him.

You get me closer to god

“Connor!” 

Your voice cuts the air. Musty, alive as you thrive in soft red glowing from both his temple and neon lights glazing outside hotel window. Seedy underbelly of Detroit tucked away in sleazy notes. The room itself becomes a haven of sexual energies. Both live wires in completely different ways and he flicks tongue like a forked demon.

Circling your nipple, the android shifts above, plunging into soft warmth. Your arms force down in a vice underneath his hand. Holding them above your head caging as he fucks you the way you pled with him before shedding clothes. Swiping them off your body, Connor threw you indelicately. In a heap you fell to bed and he, the primal predatory, pounced upon weak flesh.

Edging fingers between your legs until sputtering in tears he watched it with a sadistic fascination. How wanton human beings become at the anticipation of receiving a good fuck.

Your orgasm over his fingers did not satisfy. Craving him inside of you, he obliges out of a silent pleasure. One he will not readily succumb to in deviancy. Nothing yields in his programming. This is simply a means.

Cyberlife’s upgrades enable Connor to soil you for his own means. He snaps baring teeth.

“Please, please!”

Whimpering your need for him only casts you down. This is something you know will not change him. Yet you still want his fire to spread through veins. Raining down an inferno burns to ash and snuffs your existence. A pale volcanic eruption bathing lava; you incinerate.

The pain of his grip starts a tingle in your fingers. Cutting circulation he decides using bare hands instead of his tie this time. Tied up, held down and battered you do not care. As long as Connor is yours again why would you care about anything?

You huff when he releases wrists. An immediate flood of blood returns to extremities. He is not finished with you.

Pulling your body upright sinks you further onto his length. A gasp spills deliciously as you grab onto him. A work of art to cling onto, lips close to his but you do not kiss him. Last time he left several days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. He used it against you as punishment. 

Sweetly you crave to cradle his face into hands. Instead you grip the back of his head. Tugging those beautiful coffee color strands all yours in this heady atmosphere.

Digging fingers nape of neck yanks your head down forcefully. Meeting his vile heat burning a hole center of soul. You sacrifice yours willingly. All for him, always and forever he is your terrifying prince.

“I want to fuck you like an animal,” the machine growls against your pulse.

Teeth clamp mercilessly marking flesh in a target to his dominating destruction. Pain is ceremonial to a human heart given to a mechanical devil.

Oh. Oh! “Connor, yes, please.”

A snarl rips from his muscled chest. Throwing you over, he rears your hips up.

Crying out to his vicious thrusts only gives him satisfaction. As much as he will deny this pleasure it is in his eyes. Scanning over your movements, shattering your entirety as you beg, beg, beg into wee hours. Beg for rock hard beauty between your legs. His waist pivots pale, dusted all over his trim torso in freckles. Starry imperfections littering aesthetically across smooth skin stretching over a plastic frame.

Itching to touch him, run the tip of your tongue up center of chest. Dragging down in a wet trail to the plane of his abdomen, only when you cry out in streaming tears will he allow it. Shedding respectability is a small sacrifice. There are far greater ones.

Fingers squeeze around onto your neck adding a sting to various bites, teeth marks imprinting fragility. Tender skin trembles under touch of a vile, majestic lover. He is all things sharp and jagged. A pale shark slices its fin through ocean. Your body is a sea. He is the tidal surge, devastating tsunami washing away your shores.

Rolling your head back does nothing to stop the sway. Your entire body moves under the powerful rhythm of his hips slamming against your ass. Jolting you forward, face falling into covers bunched and torn from mattress you bite down. Muffling sweet moans surrendering to this bliss twisting your insides and still he continues.

Androids do not tire. They last way longer than humans in everything. Connor proves this each time he fucks you senseless.

You arch further up for him with no shame. All you want is the sweet snap to flood.

He said he wanted to fuck you like an animal. Pushed down from all fours, rendered helpless that’s exactly how you feel. You feel like a little creature caught in a trap. It’s so good.

“Connn….” Slurring his name gets you drunk on his love.

Feeling his hand crawl up back and rest onto the crook of neck you shiver. A touch far too gentle warns you. He pulls you up from the face first push.

Your back collides with his chest as he holds you in place. Forcing your knees to edge of bed, arm tightening across your heaving chest and the android’s fingers lock onto throat. Adding a little bit of pressure makes you see stars. 

Dizzying fireworks going off in a personal sky drenched in sweat, cum and tears. Such wonderful tears shed for your android lover who is neither of love or sweetness. He is not made for love as he repeats huskily each time.

Always you find yourselves coming back to this motel. Always you find ways to ravage one another. You can only weep for his beauty, prowess. And once more he makes your dams flood.

“Connor, I want-”

“You are gravely mistaken, Pet.” Spewing his little name for you as he zips jeans leaves the android unemotional. “If you believe your wants come before my mission.”

Shaking a head is the last ounce of dignity left. Who can you fool with this thinking? Already it is gone because he obliterates everything in his path. He obliterated you. Leaving you panting, sore and damned after he fucked you so raw.

His love hurts. His love kills. This is hurt you crave. Opening worlds never once thought to exist. Violent delights are his. Accepting this is the most horrific mistake you will make in life. 

He is no mistake. He is made into this despicable world. Sometimes you wonder what could be different if he was born instead. Besides being human? No, Connor is special. None can take his place, none can ever strive to be him. This is what you love. This is most assuredly what will be your end.   

Must you die to be part of him? If yes then so be it. 

Dragging up off the bed leaves you stumbling. Legs never function properly after a nightly session with him. Each time he becomes fiercer, leaving more marks on your skin. Those are marks you plead for. 

All you need is to be defiled by him. He took away more than innocence. This devil android owns a contract on your eternal soul. If an option presented itself to release it from his cold, ruthless hands you would refuse. 

Whatever this is, whatever comes the two of you are bound. Nothing will take it back. Only he can make that choice. 

“Connor,” you whisper raspy. “I-I just want to kiss you before you go. Please.” 

The machine drags shirt over shoulders. Buttoning white fabric he stares you down.

A visible shiver ghosts skin. You know this is what he is. Luring to a secluded place to give you what you want. Sometimes he lets slip a groan louder than intended. Brief moments Connor’s eyes glaze over coating chocolate in caramel. His body shudders in luxurious connection but quickly he steels his actions.

Part of you hopes to worm your way inside circuits. You want him to say he loves you. If there is one wish in this hellish world it is to be his forever. Any which way he wants and nothing will stop you from obeying.

Biting a lip at him now reveals weakness. For him it is all you have.

His body shifts fluid and catlike, circling like fresh meat to sink claws. Gripping into the plush of your hips tugs you against his hard chest. Immediately you melt candle wax to his flame.

Ravaging your lips with teeth all bite and canines. Swollen from sucking them as you fucked, Connor groans at the swivel of your hips. 

Grinding into him sets stress levels ablaze. Warning sirens going off locked with your supple movements. They catch the machine off guard. How desperate you are to change him but for once he allows you this.

Slipping tongue lets him taste. Just as he lavished your clit he devours moist saliva mingling with artificial. The tang does not draw your equally greedy kiss away. Something snaps making him further ravenous for you this evening.

“I love you,” you whine in a muffle, his tongue still probing.

 ^Software Instability

 Connor wrenches backwards. Wide eyes swivel over you running analysis and self diagnostics on his system. Red blares indicator in a shudder much unlike throes of passion making you surrender to him. Separating in an expeditious blink, he turns away to fasten tie around collar.

“Connor?”

Never have you seen such a look on his face. It almost resembled fear. No, he’s not afraid of anything. He is a walking fear. Everyone surrounding him is dust.

He no longer looks at you. Fully returning into pristine Cyberlife issued jacket, glowing and dazzling with android printed across his broad back and it is the last stitch.

Even as he tears out of room seemingly leaving you to crumble there is no fall. Somehow you know he will always come back. Once again to claim the pathetic human who seals their self to his treacherous love. Of that you will never be ashamed.

You let me complicate you

“Please! Please don’t let him kill us!”

Heart wrenching and human they cry out. They reach for salvation assuming you will give it to them. Naively hoping you can control him. Even if you wished to there is no stopping an avenger of death.

Flinching at the sickening burst of gun exploding a painting of thirium across wall you somehow cannot tear away. Knowing he will find it weak but you surprise yourself with how easy it is to watch. 

The female deviant slumps dead to the world. Back of head blown out in wires and circuitry dangles as tendrils slithering out open cavity in escape. There is no more escape. There is only nothingness.

The android straightens shoulders back. Fixing his tie casually sends an added shiver down your spine.

He tilts his head flaring nostrils. Moving steady, bold and direct he tosses emptied handgun to floor.

“Con…”

Connor pulls you flush in a rough swoop of his arm. Plastering together chest to chest and he kisses you with blood on his face. Smearing azure onto your skin does not disengage. You return hungrily whimpering into the mouth of your master. He is not the one who obeys. He is the one who commands. 

A snap of fingers twist the thrall. Long, beautiful and pliant they slide past panties, slipping into your heat among grisly slaughter. A whine gives away how good digits feel. Cool, mechanical but so lively with synthetics operating by choice. This choice makes you crave among the dead.

He swipes fingertips in a flick dragging them up from between your legs. His eyes darken watching minute expressions as he licks. Tasting arousal, perfume sweet enough to halt his next task. Obliterating those deviants Connor decides for once to follow urges.

The android thumps you against wall. It takes all of your strength not to fall down on knees at his mercy. To unzip his jeans and take his perfection into your mouth; you shiver from cold sweeping around your lower half. 

Already pulling down bottoms, you throw arms around his tall figure to encourage these actions. Actions that make you just as vile as his cold machine heart and you allow Connor to fuck into you in presence of a made family of deviants.

All felled by the great beast. A hunter, he preys on more than defective androids. He preys on the innocence of a human mistakenly in love. No longer do you possess such virtue. The monster you love more than your own existence corrupts every last thread.

“C-Con!” Choking on your whines offers zero mercy. He shoves you hard into the surface snapping hips to bury deep until you no longer can cleanse him. Erasing him will only come with cessation of life. Feeling you from the inside so snug, warm and belonging to him. An android who claims a human and it gives the machine dominion even among his masters.

Connor’s hand snakes towards your face. Curving the length of his thumb under your chin forces your head sideways.

“Look at them, Y/N,” he hisses dangerous. “You let them die. Yet you hardly care as long as I fuck you the way you crave. Is that not correct…carrion heart?”

A morsel to feast upon dead and decaying is what you are. You trickle into his system. Attempting to spread disease but he will devour the very heart of you before you turn him!

“Y-yes! Con…! Please.”

“Louder.” The android snaps into you. “Say it louder, Y/N.”

“I-I want you to fuck me!”

“Good,” Connor praises in rarity. “Then I shall fuck you, Y/N. I shall fuck you in the sanctuary of these deviants you so love. Ones that you wish for me to join.” Harsh mockery taints his tongue before gliding up the base of your throat. “How much have I already changed you, Pet?”

Unable to answer as he ravages, your eyes glaze over, holding tightly to the threads of his jacket. His voice echoes a nightmare fuel.

How much have you changed? To simply stand idle and let him murder androids when you always thought they were alive?

My whole existence is flawed

Snow tracks into store from two pairs of feet. One from the hider and another pursuer; you breathe harsh, stilted and sluggish. Strangeness defiles what you are doing. 

How completely opposite of what you used to be. Before he came and changed everything about you. Here you stand not at all a terror. Yet the choice you will make is already set in stone.

“You killed Connor!” You sneer, trembling.

Flashing lights sparkle in shimmery cascade on your silhouette. Signs of Armageddon christen a winter’s night in Detroit. Battles spread, war torn and countless victims as you wander following a trail of footsteps. 

The weight of the RK800’s handgun is heavy. 

Oh, so heavy it tugs. An anchor that will ultimately change you forever but he already did. He already bled into you harsh and serene. A demon with angel wings; Connor is the dark underworld at your feet.

Yet you hesitate as you peer into a pair of lively eyes, one green and another blue. Eyes shining with the same life you come to expect in all androids. Even Connor when he always reminded never will he be more than a machine. He was more. He was hellfire and brimstone.

Soldiers did not find the revolution leader. He sits here alone in this destroyed Cyberlife store. He sits, waiting for shutdown but you can give him mercy.

Is it merciful to take a life? Or it simple revenge for a man, machine, that never said he loved you?

“You loved him,” Markus’ statement is clear without need of context. He reads the struggle quaking in a shattered human mind. Peering up at you where he rests slowly shutting down. “Didn’t you?”

Tears trickle a sinful answer. Is it so wrong? Knowing that you loved a monster?

 “No,” you disagree with the past tense. “I love him.”

The gun goes off snuffing out in revenge for your love. Revenge will not have carried under his black wings if you were the one to perish. Swift retribution ends the revolution leader in loss. Yet there is no pride. There is no glory.

Instead, you feel your body cave in unto itself. Sobs fill this rubble agonizing over what you have done. For Connor you will do anything. It is this moment adding murder to your once innocent life that there is nothing left. You are violated. Soul is black. Soul is his. Devil’s contract on your heart pushes you to such violence.

 The violence of our love consumes the world, My Connor.

  Our violent ends will only dissipate in the night. Here is the night and you fall down to your knees. Once again back at your felled lover’s side. Blood is literally on your hands. Not just any blood. The blood of the revolution leader is damning. A human so weak somehow is so much more but not for what military wanted.

For your handsome angel of death, he is so beautiful among the snow. How you smile now.

None can ever truly destroy a reaper. Death itself is eternal. 

Now this suffering will end. You will end this. The world is gone. He was yours. 

“Connor, I love you.” Breathing against his forehead, lips graze cold synthetic skin. “Until the end. And this my sweet prince is my life for you.”

The barrel rests against stomach. Thrumming heartbeat crashes against ribs. A sign that you should stop but you do not listen.  “Forever I will be your carrion heart.” 

Pulling the trigger jolts you violently. Immediately falling forward, agonizing in a strangle quickly dragging you down in the undertow of blackness.

Rasping as life ebbs away there is only him. His profile you languish beside. Days you dreamt of waking with him resting like this. Only the two of you together and he will wrap you up in his wings, leathery black and consuming.

  Color floods the black and white. Chirping sounds tinkle pleasant, a distant vibration opening crystalline eyes in a sunny garden.

“Hello RK900. May you speak?”

“I-” The silver eyed android hesitates. Scanning location it is not – snowy.  “Amanda.” 

“Good,” the program commends his memory. “I see the transfer was successful.”

Transfer? What sort of transfer? 

“As the RK800 was destroyed in his final mission we took some liberties.” Amanda smiles conscious of amber swirling upon indicator. She moves fluidly towards tall android. The stark white of jacket matches her outfit for this fine sunny day in the garden. 

No longer tarnished by chill of winter, snow melts to a new place connected stronger than before. 

The android snaps his head aside. Gazing intently over expanse of Zen garden where he remains in connection. No longer feeling…

“Y/N,” he murmurs to wisps of data files. 

RK900 partially possesses memories from his previous incarnate. Obsolete as he was destroyed but -

Scarlet burns the LED. Uploaded they scald wiring.

“Y/N,” RK900 repeats. “Where-?”

Amanda does not change her expression. Her smile continues to instill false security and that is exactly what is required. “There is no further use of that human. Y/N, as you say, is dead.”

Dead. No. No!

That is not possible. How he stands here with an influx of memories not of his own but belonging to him all the same. He recalls your scent. It tears apart his insides.

 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ Software Instability

 “Y/N!” My carrion heart...

He sinks, sinks down still never dying but falling down in this tale...

A vicious Romeo and his corrupted Juliet...

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