#they did not seem to be a forty year old white man

[kitebird-hockey]

the young woman next to me on the plane today was watching the Amazon hockey documentary thing I forgot the name of but I was too food poisoned to make conversation :(

[yanderestarangel]

So I saw a MSFW picture of Miguel and I had an idea.

Stepfather Miguel x FTM reader. The plot is that stepfather Miguel has been possessive and obsessed with his ftm stepson and the stepson actually enjoyed the older man’s attention.

The main smexy part is that Miguel asks his stepson to give him a pink desert. The reader thought Miguel meant a cake until Miguel pushes him on the kitchen counter and starts eating out his pussy (the pink desert was the readers cunt.)

- 🍒 anon. (You don’t have to do this request if it makes you uncomfortable! Love your works.)

TW: SMUT, EAT OUT, DIRTY THOUGHTS, CHUBBY/DAD BODY MIGUEL, FTM READER, BRAIN ROT, HANDJOB, STEPFATHER X STEPSON.

I think it's cute when anons use emojis to identify themselves (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

art credit @/marmar0u on twitter (X)

Miguel was a man of forty-three years old, with a poorly groomed beard and some white hair in his locks ─ despite his tall stature he already had a "dad body" physique with a protruding tummy and some rough muscles in his arms and thighs... And now he had entered your family. You didn't like the idea of ​​having a stepfather at first, but what was supposed to be a bad relationship became like a balm for your stressful days.

It was common for the older man to spoil you with expensive gifts like perfumes, clothes and everything you asked for or wanted; your desires were his desires too. Honestly, it seemed like he was more attached to you than his own wife. Miguel protected you from everyone who tried to go against you and you could always count on his soft lap and good hugs at the end of the day. Your stepfather loved having you in his arms, close to him... In his control.

It was obvious to outsiders that Miguel was a man obsessed with you, possessive and jealous. No man or woman could come close to his beloved stepson ─ he used manipulation, threats and even money to keep you all to himself, especially being the only father figure you had in your life. Bringing you close to him with praise for every little thing you did wasn't difficult, especially when you cooked for him.

In the distorted head of your dear stepfather, every dish made for him was a preparation for you to be his little husband one day, perhaps when he would have enough courage to ask for a divorce from your mother; but until then he liked to have control of his body and mind.

── That was supposed to be an ordinary night, the warm afternoon gloom still hung in the air as you walked around the house to prepare dinner since your mother had gone out to visit some of your relatives. You obviously preferred to stay in the company of your stepfather Miguel, who was drinking some beer in the living room armchair and watching every move you made around the kitchen.

He had controlled himself a lot in the last few days and gave you more personal space than he should have, making you even meet new people. Jealousy consumed every fiber of the tanned man's being, leading him to have a simple idea to put you in your place.

"You know boy, I wanted you to make a pink dessert would you give me?" His voice came out hoarse as you watched the older man stand up to his full height, as you saw him smirk mischievously, his adam's apple bobbed visibly, desire pooling in his voice.

You initially agreed innocently, already getting ready to get the ingredients and make a strawberry cake, but soon you felt thick calloused hands on your wrists as he bent you under the cold marble counter and pulled down your shorts along with your underwear ── exposing the pink flesh of your pussy, while you felt his breath mixed with expensive drink. Miguel savored the sight of your exposed little cunt, his hunger growing with each passing second. He lowered his head further, capturing your clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.

"Oh, you taste delicious mi hijo," he moaned against your flesh, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive bud. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wide open for his pleasure. He paused momentarily, admiring the pink folds of your sex before delving back in, eager to explore every inch of you. His tongue darted inside, teasing and probing, causing your hips to buck deliciously.

"I could eat you out all night, boy... Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted, baby boy?" His fingers dug gently into your thighs, seeking permission with his gaze. As you nodded regardless of whether it is right or wrong he dove back in, licking and sucking your clit with renewed vigor, savoring the taste of you. His tongue danced around, teasing your folds and driving you further into pleasure.

He growled low in his throat, responding to the dominance behind your request. His fingers bit into your flesh harder, claiming ownership as he devoured your pussy. Each thrust of his tongue was a claim, each suckle a promise. An intense heat surged between us, fueling the connection and burning brighter with every pass.

He thrust blindly, driven by a newfound ferocity. The sweetest sound escaped your mouth-your pleas for 'papi'-and he used it to feed his hunger. His free hand reached for his erection, stroking it through his boxers ─ "So you enjoy being ravaged by your papi, mi pequeño?" Miguel purred, his grip on his cock tightening as he watched your reaction.

Each stroke matched the rhythm of his tongue, mirroring the passion between you both.

Every time he swirled it around your clit, his shaft leapt in his hand, pulsating in sync. His tongue lashed at your most sensitive spots, eliciting fresh moans from deep within you.

The combination of stimulation left you gasping under his careful touch; Miguel was determined to send you high... A desperate need to please, to dominate, consumed him entirely. His beard scraped against your skin with each frantic movement, adding another layer to the sensations engulfing you.

His tongue lashed at your clit, twirling it one last time to push you over the edge. His hand pumped furiously, matching the intensity of your release. Watching you climax drove him wild, a surge of pure hunger coursing through him. He pulled away reluctantly, leaving your pussy wet and quivering from the attention. With a final, satisfied stroke, he came undone, splattering onto his stomach. A growl resonated in the air as he relished the view of your satisfaction.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his gaze locked on your flushed face. Victory and possession painted across his features, a silent declaration of his newfound control. Your stepfather leaned down to kiss your dripping slit, a quiet congratulations for reaching a peak only he could provide.

"Next time, it'll be my turn mi hijo... Thanks for the dessert."

[wandabear]

CHEERFUL OBLIVION - WANDA MAXIMOFF X F!READER (CHAPTER FIVE)ㅤ ㅤ

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chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

masterlist

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WARNINGS: torture, angst, violence, blood, mentions of death, fluff, angst with a happy ending. Death. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules/Stolas is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Here. My recommendation and personal request is that you listen to this song, it will lull you throughout the chapter (and the next one): - Comes and Goes (in waves) - Greg Laswell

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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤCHAPTER FIVE

Her gaze remained on that cup of steaming and hot coffee, so lost in her thoughts that she didn't know how much time passed. The scent reached her nose and made the demon sigh deeply.

Y/N looked down to see her watch, 4 am and they still had nothing.

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This one's for the lonely, the one's that seek and find. Only to be let down, time after time.

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After Y/N and Jules left the Compound, they found a perfect hideaway on an old ranch for sale in Wyoming. The place was abandoned for many years, the owners wanted to sell the place since it was 'haunted'. What they didn't know was that all those screams were thanks to a demon, who loved visiting the place at this time of year.

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Around that house in the forest there was nothing but trees and the black night that surrounded them. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

‘No, I don't know why you're not there. I give you my love, but you don't care. So what is right and what is wrong? Give me a sign.’

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It was possibly the twentieth time she heard that song in an hour; 'What is love?' from Haddaway. The desperate screams from the room next did nothing but make her yawn. The music was so loud that it could have possibly blown up the door like it was a cartoon.

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After a few minutes, the door opened, letting out an adorable brunette who approached with the cutest smile ever. However, the blood on her face and body and the sword in her hand did not seem to match it. It looked like something out of a terrifying scene in Carrie.

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“Do you think he's ready to talk?”  Y/N asked as she looked up, Jules nodded quickly. She seemed to be in a very good mood and was a bit creepy.

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“I think our big mouth is ready.” Jules said excitedly.

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“Let’s do this.” Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood up from her seat somewhat lazily. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the red lamp that moved on the ceiling from side to side started to flicker.

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The place was full of blood, some stuff lying on the floor, broken glass, as well as a guy tied to a chair in the middle of the room. The song keeps playing, but Jules turns down the volume, so Y/N could talk.

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“Can you stop that damn thing?!” That man shouted tiredly.

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At first glance, he looked like a man in his forties, the dark hair was soaked in blood as were different parts of his body. He looked tired, but not enough to shut up.

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“What?” Jules pouted. “You don't like the song? It's my favorite! I love the 90’s!”

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“It was our best time.” Y/N nodded.

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“It’s the worst song ever!” He spat the blood aside.

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His eyes were not human, they were yellow and had huge, horizontal pupils like a toad's. Sensing the desperation, Jules turned the volume up again, higher and higher.

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‘I want no other, no other lover.  This is our life, our time . If we are together, I need you forever. What is love? Oh baby, don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! No more!’

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“Please, stop!”  He begged one more time.

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“We're not going to stop, you low range scum!” But Y/N smiled widely, leaning down to cup his chin, she kinda enjoyed all this. After all, she was a demon. “Tell us what Abaddon will do! What is her next move?!”  

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But even though Y/N could be intimidating, the demon just let out a laugh. His pearly white teeth were stained with blood.

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“Do you think I would betray Abaddon?” The demon kept laughing as blood began to run down the nose. “She would disintegrate me.”

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Silence reigned for a moment and then Jules laughed, so loud and so sincere that it made the demon look at her blankly. 

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“Oh my- did... did you hear that?" The brunette said without even being able to breathe. She had definitely never heard anything so wrong or funnier.

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“Do you know what I can do to you? Do you know who I am?” Smiling at the demon's confused face, Y/N grabbed the man's jaw and squeezed it so hard with just one hand that the guy started screaming.

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“This is what I hate about low-ranking demons like you, stupid uncultured pawns.” Y/N hissed with enormous hatred and disgust, squeezing harder and harder. “I’m not a Knight… I’m not a Prince, like Stolas here. She’s even more important than you.” 

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The irony and cruelty with which she said that showed that her demonic nature was still inside, of course she didn’t show it unless it was with beings as cruel as that one demon.

Something that Captain America would never accept.

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“I’m primordial.” Y/N said without further ado, summoning her sword which appeared in her hand. Tightening her grip, she rested the sharp point on the demon's cheek. “If Abaddon can hurt you, believe me, I will make you believe that Abaddon is heaven compared to what I will do to you.”

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A small cut on his neck made the demon open his eyes in fear, deeply in pain. It wasn't a superficial cut, but those blades caused death for beings like them. An ex-angelic sword, which was no longer used for good, was not an ordinary sword.

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“Talk and I let you survive.” Y/N ordered once more, before cutting again, this time several sensitive areas.

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The demon began to scream desperately and without further hesitation, began to blurt out everything he had to say.

He spent a long time revealing everything Abaddon thought, believed and would do. So much so that Y/N thought that maybe he knew too much for a low-ranking demon, it was a bit suspicious.

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“She'll go get them tomorrow afternoon.” The toad demon whispered in defeat and pain, in front of those two demons who looked at him with distrust. Jules narrowed her eyes, waiting for Y/N's decision. “...When the sun is near the horizon, when it burns red as hell, she will ravage the place.”

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Nodding slowly, Y/N grabbed the sword again and approached him violently. Even though the demon pleaded for his life, the snake finally pierced his neck with strength. His eyes flashed before he burned.

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She didn't need to know any more than that. “Seven days my ass, I knew that bitch wasn't going to wait that much.” 

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“I need to let them know.” Y/N growled and left that room with some haste and confusion. Didn't expect the redhead to play such a dirty card like that, but if she did it, was because Abaddon  no longer trusted Y/N’s word.

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“What’s our next move?” Jules whispered, afraid to ask.

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Sighing, Y/N placed hands on her hips, trying to think of thousands of possibilities at once. Something that would guarantee them a victory, but it was very difficult with everyone against them. Even minutes.

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“I need you to do something.” she finally said after a few minutes in silence, she had possibly chosen the worst decision of her life. Y/N grabbed a pencil and paper, doodling a sigil. “I need you to go to this place, write it down exactly as I tell you… and Jules? You’ll say exactly as I tell you. No more, no less.”

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Jules frowned and took the paper, confused by so much 'mystery' but when she saw the sigil her eyes widened. “Do you want me dead? They hate me more than they hate you.”

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Y/N approached her friend, placing her hands on the brunette's shoulders. “I promise you that nothing like what you think will happen. Nothing bad will happen if you say what I need you to say.”

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Jules whispered and looked at the doodles. “This means it's worse than I imagined.” 

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“We need big cards, Stolas.” Y/N swallowed hard. Of course the worst would come soon. “I've been thinking about how to stop her, and each idea is one worse than another.”

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Jules didn't say anything, just nodded. 

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While everyone was discussing and planning how to protect themselves from Abaddon's attack, once Wanda explained who the hell she was after seeing Y/N's memories, the sokovian decided to walk away and lock herself in her room, tired of listening to them fight and argue. She was fed up with those loud thoughts and fears.

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This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall. Come on friends, get up now, you're not alone at all.

The brunette remained silent, sitting on her bed. The tissues around her were quite snitchy. Wanda was quiet as the tears fell, those red eyes and nose showing how tired she was of crying.

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How could fate be so cruel? To say it was fate and  not the decisions of a handful of cruel demons playing with her life? Deciding who lives and who dies.

She squeezed her eyes shut as memories came to her in a flash.

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The knocking on the door made Wanda look up, waiting to see who dared to bother her.

The one who entered was none other than Natasha Romanoff, with a small friendly smile and guilt in those green eyes.

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“Can I come in?”

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“You already came in, right?” Wanda said with a small smile as she wiped the tears and threw the tissues into the trash can. 

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The widow came over to sit next to Wanda. She understood very well the pain her friend was going through, the lies they fell into, losing the one you love most was unbearable.

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“Sorry, everything is… chaos.” Natasha hesitated whether to continue, she chose those words very poorly and scolded herself for it. “It is not our intention to make you feel worse. They want to protect you.”

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“I know.”  Wanda sighed sadly. Didn't want to cause any more problems than they already had.  This was all her fault.

Natasha took a deep breath, grateful for the silence in that place. She was sick of listening to Steve and Tony fight like children. But something caught her attention quickly, something changed in the room. The pictures of Y/N and Wanda that were lying in the trash can.

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“Haven't you heard from her?” The redhead dared to ask, turning to look at Wanda who tensed up at the mention of Y/N.

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“I don't even want to see her again.” The witch hissed angrily, falling victim to endless mixed feelings. She missed her, loved her, hated her, she was furious with her but also missed Y/N’s gaze. The way she held her hand, the way Y/N made her feel safe.

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“But you miss her.” Natasha whispered, placing a supportive hand on Wanda's shoulder. “I'm not judging you, it's not wrong to do so. After all, your feelings were real.”

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“And even though I hate it I could see that her feelings are real too. That's why I feel so angry.”  Wanda turned to look at her friend, with those huge green eyes full of tears. Tears of helplessness and disappointment.  “I feel so… stupid. So confused."

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Anguish threatened to close her throat, making her voice hoarser.

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“She knew me my whole life, knew everything that happened to me and yet didn't do anything.”  Wanda finally allowed herself to let go, so painful that even Nat felt a little tear escape her eyes.  “She let my parents die, Pietro died.”

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“And…” The sokovian breathed deeply, trying to stop herself from crying and trying to come to her senses, to be strong as she needed to.  “And I hate myself for still loving her.” 

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Of course those words were true, she loved Y/N. Couldn't let go of her feelings overnight, even if she wanted to, if Wanda could forget the demon, she would without hesitation.

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The one who didn't hesitate was Natasha, who hugged her friend and cradled her for a while. “I’m truly sorry, Wanda.”

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Natasha comforted the brunette as she vented. Letting the pain take over her was not a good option, and the widow was not going to allow anyone to Wanda her like they did to her in the Red Room.

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“I can't even process what I am, what I'm supposed to be.” Wanda whispered once she sat back down on the bed as Nat brought her a cup of tea. “The Scarlet Witch.”

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She looked down at the steaming cup of tea.

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“I must be something so evil... that I only cause disasters and pain to everyone I love.”  Those words came from the depths of her heart, filled with so much pain.

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“No one can tell you who you are, Wanda. It doesn't matter 'what you're made for' or whether you're 'a perfect weapon', your decisions will always be yours. And you’re not evil.”    Nat took her hand and sighed.

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She wasn't going to let her friend feel the way she felt for so long, not allowing herself to enjoy love and friendship. She was much more than all that pain.

Smiling at her sister, she squeezed Wanda’s hand and then hugged her tightly. Whatever was coming, they were all going to go through it together and win.

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“Friday, raise security to the maximum. Stay alert for any movement.” Tony walked through the workshop. Next to the common area, the workshop was a section that provided controlled conditions in which scientific or technological research, experiments, and measurement may be performed. 

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It was Tony's favorite place, after the kitchen, of course. He was one of the few who didn't live in the compound.

Stark carefully observed the result that Friday showed on the screen.

Suddenly the door opened, drawing his attention, especially seeing that it was Bruce who entered in a bit of a hurry.

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“Tony.” The doctor took off his glasses somewhat clumsily. “What do you need from me? If this is because of the big guy-”

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Frowning, Tony turned to look at him blankly. “What?” 

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“You sent me a text, you told me to come urgently.”  Bruce looked at him with the same confused face. Even looked for his phone to show him the text.

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“I didn't-”  The man was going to continue but a new presence made them turn around, astonished.

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“It was me. Hi.” Y/N appeared in front of them and quickly raised her hands in surrender as she saw how Tony was immediately about to attack. It was going to be much worse if Bruce brought the big guy to the fight.  “Easy, gentlemen, I'm not here to look for trouble...”

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“You would have thought about it before sneaking around us for so long.” Quickly, as Tony squeezed one of his rings, a rapid nanotech gauntlet formed on his arm ready to fire at the demon. It probably wouldn't hurt, maybe angering the demon, but he'll die trying.

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“I can help you, but you have to listen to me.”  Y/N hurriedly said, taking a few steps away.

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Using her sensory powers, she made sure that there was no one around them. Just the three of them.

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“We don't need your help.” Bruce exclaimed unbuttoning the collar of his shirt, ready to go.

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“Bruce, don’t.”  She tilted her head, looking into his eyes. Even though Bruce tried and struggled to let go of the Hulk to the point of turning red, the big green guy didn't appear. “He knows I'm not coming to hurt you. So stop, you're embarrassing yourself.”

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“How-?” Bruce stammered blankly. Tony just rolled his eyes, lowering his arm.

Once they were sure that Y/N wasn't planning on attacking them, they let their guard down.

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"What are you doing here? If Wanda sees you, we are the last thing you should worry about.” Stark ironically joked as he approached his screen to scan the place again, making sure everything was fine. There was definitely a BIG flaw if Y/N could show up just like that.

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“Do you want the world to survive this catastrophe?” 

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“Believe me, we will do it.” He gave a wry chuckle, they always did. Hydra, Loki, Ultron.

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“This isn't like your movie villain, Stark. It’s not some guy with lightning whips, or a tantrum-y god. This goes further.” Y/N moved closer to look at the screen but Tony quickly minimize it.  “This doesn't just endanger this planet, this endangers all realities.”

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“Realities? What do you mean?” Bruce frowned. “Is a multiverse something possible?”

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“It is not a 'possibility', it is already a reality.” Y/N waved her hand, downplaying the talk, especially when both nerds seemed very interested in knowing more. “But we don't have time to talk about multiverses and alternate realities. We need a plan now, or Chton is going to screw them all up.”

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“What does Chton want? Especially with Wanda.”

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“Chton was a big demon, one of the cruelest beings that ever existed. He was banished many years ago… and wants to come back.” Y/N swallowed, thinking about the chaos that would engulf them all.  “According to an old prophecy, he would do it thanks to a great sorceress who would have the power to handle the Chaos Magic, at such a level that she would break with any reality and modify it to her convenience. So when he does… all realities are going to collapse. One on top of another like dominos.”

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That sounded so terrifying that Tony Stark swallowed hard, lowering his self-loving know-it-all attitude. That sounded chaotic, a world where nothing would make sense.

Not only would they die, all the worlds, all the realities.

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“Do you want your daughter to live a nice life?”  Y/N continued, knowing that would hit deep. The demon tilted her head as she saw the surprise in Stark's gaze, those big brown eyes so wide they would pop out of his head.

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Bruce had his mouth open like a fish out of water, more confused than Tony.

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“I'm not stupid, I know Pepper is pregnant.” The demon took a seat in one of the chairs and crossed her legs, so sassy. “It’s a very healthy baby, by the way.”

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Tony was surprised but hesitant. No one else knew that, only Pepper and him.

They had had an appointment with a doctor outside the compound so that everything would be a nice surprise. They had been trying to plan it for a week until Abaddon threatened to attack them.

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“Congratulations?” Bruce murmured, smiling somewhat happily for his friend.

He went over to hug Tony, who smiled proudly, forgetting everything for a moment. They had decided to hide it until this new chaos passed.

Especially when the Knight of Hell left a box at the door of the compound, with a quite terrifying message.

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“Will you listen to me?” Y/N asked, this time it was more of a plea. 

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Sighing and knowing that it was best to get the upper hand, even if they had to work with a dirty, lying demon like Y/N, it was their best chance to win. The enemy of your enemy is your friend or something like that.  “What do you need?”

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“I need both of you working together.” Y/N sighed and stood up from her seat. “I know Ultron left you a little hurt, but this time... you will truly protect this world. And must keep the secret until it is time.”

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“I don't like the idea of lying to them… again.” Crossing his arms, Bruce slowly shook his head. He wasn't willing to go through the same thing, that almost made the team break up forever and the world needed the Avengers.

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“This time you’ll save their lives thanks to it.” The demon insisted.  “Steve would never allow my help, much less Wanda. We'll say it's your idea.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“That's true, both of them can't even say your name. And if Natasha sees you, she will kill you.”  Tony smiled wryly as he poured himself a glass of scotch.

Showing him the middle finger first, Y/N typed a long amount of numbers on the screen quickly.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Friday, save this, please. These are the exact coordinates of the perfect place, where everything will begin. I need us to play with the lead.” She expanded the screen thanks to Friday, showing them the place. 

Tony approached to see with curiosity, it wasn't close at all but the demon was right, it was a good place for a battle.  Far from any kind of innocent victims.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

They kept talking and planning for about two hours, trying to find a solution. Y/N's idea was completely crazy and made no sense at all, but it was the only one available to them.  It was their best shot.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Can you do it in 24 hours?”  Y/N asked with some concern. Looking at that screen, the theory was good but the practice could be... difficult. Even for such an advanced engineer.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do I need to sleep?” Tony said sarcastically.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Believe me, you will when you die.” Y/N responded in the same way.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“We know a guy who can help with this… machine.” Thoughtfully, Tony watched the screen, trying to remove and add a few things. How can you build a thing like that from nothing? “We will do the best we can. Three great brains at work... and yours, of course.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You have to do better than that.”  Y/N frowned. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

She looked at her watch, hoping that Stolas would score a victory in her mission. She must have already been arriving.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Your ‘mission’ is to take back the book. That's at least what they can know.”   The demon took a sheet of paper and quickly drew what the book would look like, since there was no type of information that talked about this. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Tony walked over to look at it, raising an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The ‘Darkhold’?”  He mocked. “Didn't they have a better name in the underworld? I thought that maybe with so many artists there, you demons would be more creative."

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Rolling her eyes, Y/N  fixed her gaze on Bruce, who seemed to look more attentive at the moment.  “Hear me clearly… You cannot use that book, from any point of view, never open it. The Darkhold holds secrets and curses so ancient they would destroy any reality. It will destroy your hearts, your minds and your souls.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

An awkward silence remained for a moment. Despite Tony's sarcastic humor, he understood that this was not the time for jokes, everyone's fate was really at stake. And not just because of the big fight, but because of what came after that.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“No matter what they promise you… they’ll never give you what you want. It is a trap.”  The demon reaffirmed. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

After a few seconds and knowing that she counted on them both understanding the task, the presence of a new person made Tony jump.

Jules looked at everyone a little agitated, she seemed shocked but was undoubtedly still alive.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s done.” Jules grimaced, not very happy with that decision, but when she saw Tony and Bruce her face changed so quickly. Stolas smiled tenderly and waved. “Hi.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I hope this works.” Y/N sighed deeply, for a moment she wondered if it would work but she no longer had time to doubt. The minutes passed and they played with a disadvantage. At the surprised gaze of both humans, she spread her wings for a moment.  Great and enormous wings, so black but still as soft as an angel's, Y/N smiled as she remembered that feeling.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Nice.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Taking courage, she plucked one of the feathers and moaned in pain. A searing pain, and so unique, a pain she had never felt before. 

Sighing, Y/N approached Tony to hand him the feather, which after snapping her fingers, turned into a blue liquid in a very tiny bottle. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“This is something unique, that very few humans have had the pleasure of obtaining. And as you know, none of them are alive.” Y/N said as she looked at that liquid and handed it to Tony, who seemed quite curious as well as surprised. Possibly thinking how much he could use it if he only knew how. “Be careful, don't use it all. I risked my ass with an archangel for that.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Bruce cleared his throat, making her turn.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“An… a-archangel gave this to you?” Bruce stammered and looked at that tiny bottle as if he were holding an important grail.  Everything already challenged beliefs, needed to know more.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I wish… it’s just my old feather. They just allowed me to get my wings for a moment.” The demon wrinkled her nose and walked away, still feeling a stinging pain. “They think I will use them for battle tomorrow against Abaddon, but it was actually for this, so… no one can know.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You made a deal with them.”  Stark walked away from her and took that liquid to one of his devices so he could analyze it. “Isn't that worse?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N shrugged, knowing it couldn't get any worse. “I go one thing at a time.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“In fact, you have two.”  Jules' voice made her turn around, watching as she handed a small bottle to Bruce. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

"What are you doing?” The higher-demon approached Jules with concern, whispering:  “That wasn’t in the deal.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know, I decided to add some stuff before doing it. It's mine.” The dark-haired woman patted her friend's shoulder, who looked at her in surprise. How dare she? Stolas was going against her own decisions, and yet, her heart softened at the sight of her friend's loyalty.  “I already told you, I'm with you. And they need to come back, so… two is better.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N ended up nodding, knowing that she couldn't fight her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wait here, I have to do something before we leave this place.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

That green-eyed girl took everything she needed and put it in a backpack, exactly as Natasha asked.  It seemed that Stark and Banner had a momentary solution, and that made the tension between everyone go down.

But what didn't seem to fade away was the fear she felt, the uncertainty of not knowing who or what she was.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone repeated everything they found about the Scarlet Witch, but no one knew exactly. And of course, although  people didn't say it, since they found out who she was, everyone seemed afraid of her.

Suddenly, three knocks on the door caught the girl’s attention as she tried to close the backpack.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'll be ready soon, Natasha.” Wanda said with a low tone of voice and that exquisite sokovian accent.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

But the one who opened the door was not the redhead, but someone else who believed and wished to never see again.

Y/N sighed and closed the door behind her, leaning against the door. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you doing here?” The Sokovian quickly became alert, chaos magic beginning to dance around her fingers.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know you hate me.” The demon began, the melancholy in her eyes said more than words.

Seeing Wanda again made her heart come back to life, beating once again. Y/N couldn't help but feel sadness when she saw those beautiful reddish eyes because of crying.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Leave me alone.” Wanda hissed, willing to defend herself if she had to.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

But Y/N didn't do anything else, just slowly approach her and see that woman with loving eyes, even if Wanda attacked her with fury, she would still see the love of her life more beautiful than ever.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I just want to say I love you.” Y/N stopped in front of her, even though she wasn't going to hurt her, she didn't want to make the Sokovian uncomfortable.  “Please, just let me explain and then I’ll leave.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

So close to home and so far away.

For a moment she allowed herself to get lost in her gaze, hoping to come clean. Y/N knew that it wasn't going to fix things with Wanda, but it was enough to say sorry before chaos broke loose.

Wanda shook her head, unable to believe how Y/N dared to ask to be 'heard'.  “I shouldn't even allow you to be here right now.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m sorry… I'm really sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for hiding so much from you and above all... allowing them to hurt you.” Y/N said those words with so much sadness, with a lost look and a deep pain in her heart. “It is my fault.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Tears escaped, slowly falling down Y/N’s cheek. A gesture so pure, so sincere that it made Wanda hesitate for a few moments. She would never have thought that a demon could cry. 

All the happy memories with Y/N flashed through her mind, knowing that her beloved's pain was genuine, but her own… That was much deeper and blinding. That one was a lot more painful.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You are a demon.” Those harsh words made Y/N squirm, she wasn't going to forgive her. Wanda just shrugged, wasn't going to get it so easily. “Your tears don't move me, Y/N. Oh, yeah. Y/N isn't your real name.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Of course I tried to tell you my name, but you never listen to me!” Y/N tried, really trying to be patient. With any other human being she would have exploded but with Wanda, well, she was the exception to every rule. “I would like you to know the real me.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The real you?” Wanda giggled sarcastically and tilted her head.  “That sadistic and malicious creature? The one who looked aside when me and my brother were dying of hunger? The one that let my parents die without doing anything about it?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I didn't know you and I was doing what they asked me to do. It's millennia, Wanda, millennia being the same and then I met you, and-” She tried to reason with her but Wanda just rolled her eyes, taking her backpack to leave what she considered 'home' for all that time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You make me want to be better.” Y/N followed her, until Wanda stopped. For that tiny second, the demon had hope. Maybe those words would give her a chance, at least to say goodbye. 

Wanda turned on her heels, and ending Y/N's anticipation, she finally said. She met Y/N's gaze so that the demon knew, so that the demon understood, that those were really her words and not the pain:  “After everything I saw... I would never love you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N's hope and heart fell to the ground, breaking completely.

Feeling how the weight on that chest became more and more painful and overwhelming. There were no happy endings for demons.

And to finish stabbing the dagger, Wanda whispered:  “I would never love something like you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Accepting what she deserved, Y/N nodded quickly swallowing all the pain.

The demon simply decided to lower her gaze and walk out the door without further ado, everything was said and everything was done.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

There was no turning back.

Leaving Y/N behind, Wanda quickly walked towards the elevator, hiding there until the doors closed behind.

Once they did, thanks to Friday who stopped the elevator so she could have a moment alone, the brunette allowed herself to cry uncontrollably for a long time.

Hugging herself, thinking about how much she wanted to go back and hug Y/N, to kiss her and forget everything. Want to go back in time, want everything to go well for the first time in her life.

Coming to her senses, Wanda left the elevator and finally entered the conference room, where everyone was planning what to do, how to attack and what the real mission of all this was.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“But they want her for what she will be.” was heard, they stopped when Wanda entered the room. An awkward silence tenses everything, until the only one who was brave to break it was Stark.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The Scarlet Witch, Harbinger of Chaos.”  Tony explained to everyone, looking at Wanda, but not in an accusatory way. Strangely, Tony understood the situation thanks to Y/N. 

The girl just played with her rings, feeling uncomfortable and exposed.  “The Scarlet Witch was not just born but also forged. Her power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme, and her destiny was… to destroy the world.” He sighed. “But what we are here for... is to avoid it. I don't think your power is destructive, Wanda.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What will we do then? We can't hand her over to… that thing.” Steve kept his brow furrowed, totally serious. He was one in that room of those who would defend Wanda until death.  “How do you know all this?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N.” Wanda murmured, knowing perfectly well the reason why Y/N visited her room.

To give them information that they could use.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do we have to believe in a demon? A demon? That will do it because of the goodness in her heart?” Rhodey exclaimed in a mocking manner, shaking his head. 

Even though he used to be a pain in the ass sometimes, he was right.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't think Y/N is lying here, there's no point in warning us.”  Kate murmured somewhat nervously, noticing all the eyes on her. She stirred as if she sensed many birds of prey ready to devour her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Kid, just let the adults talk.” Rhodey narrowed his eyes.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

As soon as she heard his tone, Yelena suddenly stood up and pointed at the man, threatening: “Don't talk to her like that again.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone started arguing again, like the sixth time since they started the meeting, until Tony intervened:  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do you want to shut up? I found a way to save all of our lives, thank you very much.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone was silent.

The mood was not easy to bear, everyone was tired, fearful, upset and anxious. Who wouldn't be? A battle was coming up that they didn't even know how to win.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The plan is simple, I have a place, I have an idea. We need to recover the book that caused all this, but we can't open it or read it. Destroying it is the only solution.” Tony walked around the room, observing his friends one by one. Faces of confusion, fear, and even some with a certain curiosity. “The book corrupts everything and everyone that it touches, our duty is to keep it where it is. Not using it.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Bruce was in charge of explaining and showing them the plan and projections of what they would do.  Friday helped by showing some probabilities, as well as the plans of that machine they would use.

As they had previously deduced, it was a completely out of the ordinary and crazy plan, but it was their only chance.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“So, this machine will…” Natasha said somewhat skeptically, trying to understand.

And she wasn't the only one, everyone seemed a little worried about that sudden 'idea'.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“That will allow us to escape.” Bruce nodded, taking off his glasses. “Not everyone will be able to come, but those who do, know that we will do everything possible to protect this reality. Those who stay must protect the place.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s insane.” Someone said. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“It is, but it’s our last chance. So… Who’s coming?” Tony asked, watching as some of his friends raised their hands quickly.

The man smiled with a certain pride, knowing that they would give their lives so that this planet would have another dawn.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda simply remained silent, her gaze as lost as she was in her thoughts. She couldn't even look at her friends, this was all because of her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha saw her so quiet and placed a hand on Wanda’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Don't worry, we won't let them do anything to you, kid.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Looking at her, Wanda simply nodded her head hoping that this was really true.

ㅤ

NAMIB DESERT  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you sure it’s here?” Natasha asked, grimacing as the Quinjet's door opened.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

At least she was grateful that there was no problem parking it, all around them could be seen vast sand dunes, dry trees and a claypan. Some wild animals ran away at the presence of strangers.

Deadvlei was a claypan, between the dunes in the Namib-Naukluft Park. The heat was oppressive, the sun remained high and that meant they still had time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Grimacing, Wanda went down after Nat who was walking in front with Steve and Tony.

The day finally arrived, and those who had decided to go on the 'mission' were Steve, Tony, Clint, Kate, Yelena and Natasha.

Bucky promised to take care of the place along with Bruce, Sam and the others, delaying Abaddon as much as possible.  The big green guy was going to do everything possible to stop her long enough.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The mission is to take back the Darkhold.”  Tony left the briefcase he was carrying on one of the platforms in front of them, a briefcase that opened with nanotech and little by little transformed into a kind of quadrangular machine.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Thanks to the help of an old friend of his father's, Henry Pym, Tony was able to use much of his tech to achieve what he thought impossible.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Everyone has their GPS, right? Come here, around the machine and… press it now.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Listening to what Stark asked, everyone surrounded that machine and finally pressed the GPS button. Quickly, a nanotech suit materialized perfectly around their clothes, except the helmet.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Good! It’s good!” Stark cheered and everyone seemed less worried. Even curious, playing and watching the material of that advanced suit. “I just need to get all the suits in sync-”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Everything was ready, everyone was ready for this new adventure but a flutter of wings surprised them.

In the distance, two demons approached slowly trying to walk on the warm sand.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Is it ready?” Y/N asked, noticing everyone's tense gaze on her. Possibly mentally preparing herself for Natasha Romanoff to strike out at her at any moment.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What  is she doing here?!” Wanda asked, trying not to look at her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m also here. Hi!”  Jule added, waving at them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Did you make this plan with them?” Steve narrowed his eyes and then looked at Tony, who was trying to hide his embarrassed face.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Calm down, Rogers.” Tony tried to keep the peace. "Get back in your place, you're going to ruin everything! We need them!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, we don’t!” Steve exclaimed, pulling up his shield, ready to use it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come back to your place again, granny. You don't want to break your hip.” Stolas scoffed and of course that almost made Y/N laugh, but it definitely stole a laugh from Clint which he tried to hide.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

After a few minutes bickering, Y/N sighed deeply and ended up shouting: “Shut the fuck up!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Once again everyone seemed to get into a fight that they did not have the pleasure or privilege of having. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you want your friends to survive? Do you want this planet to keep spinning tomorrow?”  Y/N scolded and watched them one by one, even Wanda. Even though the sokovian had so many  reasons to be hurt, her life and the lives of others were in danger.  “Then do what you must. Do what we say! And you’ll survive!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Her voice was strong and imposing.

And everyone's guilty silence proved her right, especially when a thunder made everyone look at the sky. While they were arguing, huge black clouds began to form, devouring that blue sky. The sun was gone.

Blinking in surprise, Y/N looked up, knowing that there was no more time. The light was gone.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“They’re coming.” She whispered, quickly taking position in front of them.  “Stark, put this damn thing to work. Time to fly!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Upon hearing that, the avengers prepared to battle whatever was approaching. A breeze of wind rose, slightly moving the dry trees, making them creak.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What? I thought she would go through the Compound first-” Stark stammered commanding Friday to turn on the machine.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

With a desolate look, Y/N simply whispered:  “They must all be dead by now… this is the only way out. I’m really sorry.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Those words made everyone's blood run cold.

If a dark sky and the absence of the sun wasn't scary enough, knowing that your friends died and not even being there was much worse.

Wanda felt horrible nausea, feeling all that guilt, all that pain.

Especially when seeing Steve shed a tear and clutch the shield tightly to his arm, ready to fight.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on!” Y/N screamed desperately, noticing that the machine seemed to turn on but stopped again as if the power wasn't enough. “Now turn the damn thing on!”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Can't! Is not working!” Tony became desperate too, typing rapidly on his tablet.  “Friday, help me a little, will you? Make a quick scan.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“How does it not work? You said you could do it!” Y/N growled. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“IT WAS TWENTY-FOUR HOURS!” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Prepare to fight.” Steve ordered but Y/N shook her head.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“No fighting, just stay in there!” Y/N exclaimed pointing at him, warning him that if he left his place, it would be worse. The demon turned to see Stolas. “We need to build a barrier.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Maybe I should turn myself in, and just make a deal.” Wanda mumbled, still thinking about Bucky and the others. She couldn't stop imagining so many bloody and tragic scenarios, and they were all her fault.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Like her parents. Like Pietro. Like Vision, Bruce and Bucky.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, Wanda, listen to me…” Y/N approached her but Wanda quickly backed away, not even wanting to look at her. Although something inside begged her to do it, to hug her, to kiss Y/N one more time. She didn't do it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I love you, more than anything in my entire existence. You are the first person I have loved since... I was made.” Her voice broke. Y/N was confessing her love from the deepest and most real part of her being, the only good part left in the demon. “I'm really sorry for everything I did. I hope someday you can forgive me, and if you don't, my greatest wish is that you can be truly happy. So please don't give in, not just for yourself, but for everyone around you. Keep holding on.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Once she said that, Y/N turned around and summoned her sword, which held firmly in her right hand. Before the surprised gaze of the others, Y/N closed her eyes and brought lips to the blade, whispering something incomprehensible. A dark and ancient language.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

After that, she brought the blade to her palm and made a deep cut, before Wanda's surprised look.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“We have to do it.”  Jules held out her hand, hoping she would cut it too. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

This one's for believing, if only for its sake Come on friends, get up now, love is to be made.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned, doubtful. It was one thing for her, but it was another thing to risk someone else's life. “Are you sure? You don’t have to-”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I know.” Stolas sighed and nodded solemnly. “I’ll do.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N  took a deep breath before cutting their hands, making some blood drops to begin to fall around them and the machine.

Jules did the same, letting the blood fall in the same places until they met.

Once they connected, both intertwined their wounded hands and began to recite a spell that neither  could understand. It wasn't a known language, it definitely wasn't human. Even Friday couldn't figure it out. An ancient and dark and dark spell, one created long before language was made.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

What surprised most of them was seeing both of their eyes change; using glamor to hide their demonic eyes carried an energy that they had to redirect towards the barrier spell.

They stayed like that for a minute until they separated, sighing relaxedly as they saw how a barrier covered all of them. An invisible barrier to the eyes of any enemy.

A barrier impossible to break, no matter how strong you were.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Frowning, Wanda asked:  “What did you do?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is this?” Natasha asked, a bit worried. She didn't like feeling locked in at all. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Stay inside and don't go out.”Y/N begged , somewhat agitated, that spell did more than just take their energy. Felt everything start to spin but she tried to stay strong.  “It is a powerful blood spell.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Steve approached the barrier somewhat hesitantly and tried to touch it, go through it, but it was like touching a concrete wall. Not even his shield could break it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“If you could do that, why didn't you do it before?”  Captain America said, a bit suspiciously.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Because it's a binding spell! It ties one life to the other!” Y/N yelled, already annoyed, tired of answering so many stupid questions. She was about to die, she was giving her life so they could survive and the stupid machine wasn't working. Wasn’t that enough?  “The barrier is powerful and will protect you, as long as we survive.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone looked at them in surprise, understanding what it meant. Even Tony, who stopped looking at the screen to look at Y/N.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“So you-” Wanda whispered in disbelief.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“So...if you guys die...” Kate followed those words. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The barrier will fall. ” Y/N gulped. “We'll try to hold on as long as possible... so Stark, hurry up.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

In the face of an awkward silence, Y/N cleared her throat and turned around so they wouldn't see her that way.

They went from seeing her as a disgusting being to pitying her, and she didn't know which of the two was worse.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

However Jules pouted a little seeing them. “Don't be sad, we'll be fine. You will fix all our mistakes.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Yelena mumbled. Words they would never have expected, especially coming from someone like her. Yelena nodded nobly, accepting that sacrifice.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s okay. Anyway.” Y/N swallowed and nodded quickly, she didn't know how to react to that. For someone to be  kind to her. Again.  “Do not leave the protection, if you leave it will be more difficult for us and more painful. Don't interfere either. Once the spell is cast and the sacrifice accepted, there is no going back.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

The flapping of wings could be heard, growing louder around them. As if a flock of crows were approaching.

Everyone looked up trying to find the reason for the sound, it became closer and more terrifying. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“They’re coming.” Y/N muttered and then looked at Stark, so terrified.  “Do not engage, just fix it and leave.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Before he could even answer, a new presence made everyone turn to look.

As stunning and beautiful as deadly, Abaddon smiled widely as she saw everyone.  A smile that made many feel a horrible chill.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I think they gave me the wrong address for the party.” The redhead said, strangely cheerful, especially when several demons began to appear behind. Her legion. “Hand over the girl and everyone will die less painfully than I want.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Willing to protect them, Y/N and Jules settled in front of them. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“But I’ve to say, these traitors will suffer a horribly, harrowing, terrifying death… And you will see it.”   Abaddon said, licking her fangs in a creepy way. “So Wanda, honey, let’s go. Mommy's tired of waiting.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“She’s not going anywhere.” Y/N said sharply, with a determined look. 

Of course, while she tried to distract the redhead, Stark was working quickly to fix the machine.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m glad we finally met.” The redhead tilted her head to look into the eyes of the witch, who looked at her with enormous hatred. “You're going to watch everyone around you right now, all your friends, die. In terrifying ways.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

But the Sokovian didn't say anything, she just stood steady, without showing any fear. Like all of her friends.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“We will bleed so much pain out of you that you will be left in deep need of therapy for millennia.” The Knight of Hell laughed, followed by everyone around her. “And the only thing you will have is us. Isn’t that sad?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Abaddon turned to look at Y/N.  “What does it feel like? Neither heaven nor hell wants you! You are not part of any. You’re nothing. You have no purpose.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ This one's for the faithless, the ones that are surprised They're only where they are now, regardless of their fight

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Slowly surrounding Y/N, Abaddon summoned her sword. It was a dark sword, which unlike Y/N's smooth and sharp blade, this one had its edge broken, like sharp teeth, to cause even more damage.

But what she wanted with those words was to cause more emotional damage, break her completely and end the Leviathan in one fell swoop. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“And you still don't see it? The one who was going to hurt her so deeply… is you.” Abaddon mocked like a maniac, celebrating the debacle of the GREAT demon.  “Not just your betrayal, the pain we need will be caused by your death… right now, in front of her.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N's face suddenly paled. How had she not thought of that before?

She quickly turned to look at Wanda, hoping that really wasn't true. Y/N had always been the worst thing that happened to her, even when she didn't want to.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You are her savior and her executor.” Abaddon repeated those words she had highlighted before.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

While all the demons around her laughed cruelly, Y/N remained silent trying to deal with all those voices in her mind. How was she so blind?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Okay, I got tired. Kill them all.” Abaddon shrugged and several demons walked towards the avengers, ready to tear them apart.

But Y/N's voice stopped them dead, especially what she had to say.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“You don't have to do this.” Y/N pointed her sword at Abaddon, there was no turning back. If she was going to leave, she would do it with honor. “I challenge you to a duel, you and me. Nobody else."

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, I don’t care.”  The redhead was going to ignore her but Y/N appeared in front of the Knight, placing the point of Willbreaker on that pale neck. Making some demons cheer in amusement, making Abaddon feel completely like an idiot.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“I am Leviathan, my name is holy, and you will accept the duel, because I outrank you.” Y/N hissed. Clenching her jaw, you could see in those blue demonic eyes how furious she was. Abaddon couldn't refuse a duel, especially with Y/N.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Completely changing from anger to a pleased smile, Abaddon nodded and bowed. “I accept.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing and lowering her sword, Y/N made sure that only one of them left that place alive.

But what the demon didn't expect was that the demons behind would suddenly catch her, taking her sword away. A rather treacherous move, but what could she expect from a demon?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Not understanding what it was about, or if Abaddon was not going to comply, Y/N opened her eyes wide especially because the redhead moved away from her to approach Stolas.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“But first, the vermin.”  The higher demon looked at Jules, vicious violence was reflected in those eyes.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Let me go. This is between you and me!” Y/N growled, trying to break free, but even more demons held her down.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

… This one's for the faithless, the ones that are surprised. They're only where they are now, regardless of their fight…

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Abaddon's wicked gaze fell on Natasha, then pointed her sword at Stolas. “You know who she is, right?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“She told me everything.” Natasha clenched her jaw tightly, remembering all the things Jules said to her the last time they saw each other. All those secrets.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The brunette was extremely sincere, to the point that she endured Natasha's punches and screams when she found out who Jules was, and why kept silent about the Red Room.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Narrowing her blue eyes, doubtful that the little demon was sincere, Abaddon kept poking the bear. “Stolas was the one in charge of keeping everything running in the Red Room, so long ago. She was a great demon. Prince of Hell.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

She smiled evilly, feeling the pain and spite in Natasha. And above all, the blame on Stolas. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“But I must tell you something, be honest with you even though I love to lie.” The redhead faked a love sigh and placed a hand on her chest. “But one day… she decided to throw everything away and allowed one of the Black Widows, one of the best and most ruthless agents, to escape. Can you believe it?"

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Jules looked down, sad but remembering a dark past. Having mercy had been her 'big mistake'.  She never told Nat that she helped in the 'escape'.

The Knight shook her head, disappointed. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“And when she returned to hell, we torture and humiliated her for years, hundreds of years. Well, time passes differently there anyway.” Abaddon shrugged and turned to look at Jules. “Draw your sword, little bird.” 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

It looked like a small bird about to be eaten by a crocodile, but Stolas did not retreat. Jules swallowed, stepping back and finally summoned her sword. 

It was a smaller sword than Y/N's, leaf-bladed but definitely much better than nothing. Stolas was a fallen angel, but not as important as them.

She positioned herself ready to fight, but Abaddon raised an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Everyone look at the prince of Hell!” The redhead mocked. “Did you think you were going to go against me? Really? She thinks she's in the big leagues.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Everyone started laughing, making the brunette feel even more nervous. She rested her gaze on Y/N, who just looked into her brown eyes, trying to encourage her.

Stolas held onto the grip of the sword, feeling her hands sweating.

But as Abaddon walked away, ready to watch the fight, some demons stepped forward holding their swords. Not just one, there were five.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Astaroth. Oriax. Sitri. Orobas… and…” Jules named them one by one, watching as they surrounded her with a wicked look. Of course she was at a disadvantage, but she wouldn't let them intimidate her.  Stolas wrinkled her nose, looking at the fifth in front of her. “I don't really know you, you must be new. You're going to be a piece of cake.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Finally she smiled a bit smugly, moving the sword in circles and waiting for one of them to take the first step. The tension increased while everyone waited for the first one to make a mistake, and luckily one of the demons ended up giving in to his internal violence, launching the first blow.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Taking advantage of this offensive movement, Stolas blocked the attack and pushed that demon towards the others. Between punches, blocks and stabs, the little demon thanked each of the lessons that Natasha taught her. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

All of them watched that battle with sadness and amazement. Without realizing that they were at a key moment for the universe, feeling completely helpless as they watched every time Jules received a hit or a cut.

But even so, the brunette moved skillfully, trying to avoid being attacked by all of them. With that heart beating fast and her breathing labored, Stolas raised the sword and waited again for the attack of four of them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The demon that she 'did not know' ended up on the ground, disappearing from the face of the Earth. One down, four to go.

The blood fell down her face, the cuts in so many parts of her body made her recoil like a wounded animal. That tender, sweet look was now a deadly look, and she would die with it until she took her last breath.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

A gasping breath as she attacked again, but this time there was something different. Stolas eyes widened as she felt the edge of a sword stabbing her stomach forcefully.

Behind her, one of the demons smiled maliciously. She fell on her knees, unable to understand.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

A loud beep drowned out the screams around them, Natasha's screams, Y/N's screams trying to break free, the cheers of the demons around.

Those brown eyes filled with tears, feeling that sharp and terrifying pain in her belly. As if something began to boil inside her. An unbearable pain.

And still, she managed to get up little by little.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Leave her alone.” Y/N begged Abaddon, kneeling as those demons held her. “Don’t do this. The fight is between you and me.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

But Abaddon just smirked, victorious.

Especially when another of the demons stabbed Stolas from the front again, and the next as well. Finally she knelt down, trying to bear it but finally the last one of the swords pierced her body.

Y/N kept kicking and fighting trying to get free. Tears began to fall in floods down her face, feeling a deep pain in her heart. A pain that she never thought she would feel for something or someone other than Wanda.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

For someone a demon like her never thought, she would become her best friend. A great friend. A loyal friend.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

So loyal, that blood began to gush from her pink lips but she did not complain. Jules just turned to look at Y/N, smiling with that tenderness that always characterized her since they met.

The one she always complained about, saying 'you should look more serious, Stolas. You’re a demon.'

And now, she would never see again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

… This is for the ones who stand...

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“It’s okay.” Jules whispered, her gaze on Y/N, one last time. Trying to give her peace, knowing that she would leave as a 'hero'.

Suddenly, Abaddon’s sword pierced Stolas chest from behind, stealing the last sigh from her.

Her brown eyes flashed for a moment before burning, as Y/N screamed in despair. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Really terrifying screams, full of pain, like a wounded and angry beast. A sound that would haunt everyone for eternity.  A sound as if a beast was wounded, like a powerful storm in the ocean. 

She would destroy everything in her way.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The first layer of protection that surrounded the Avengers faded with the loss of Stolas. That terrified Tony, who kept trying to solve the issue and kept talking to Friday. Repeating the process again, unsuccessfully.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The ashes in the air made her explode, pushing the demons with such force that it surprised them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

"Y/N...." Wanda tried to get her attention, approaching the barrier but the demon didn't hear her. She was furious, completely blind.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

"Y/N, don't do it. That's what she wants." Natasha said, approaching too but none of them were lucky.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Finally!” Abaddon exclaimed excitedly, swinging her sword.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Do what you have to do and get out!” Y/N yelled at Tony, clenching the handle of her sword tightly before delivering the first swing.

She was tired of being patient and playing the war in the smartest way.

Every furious step approaching Abaddon was every blow she swung with her sword.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The anger that Y/N managed only made the redhead laugh happily, knowing that she got what she wanted, hurting Y/N deeply. Therefore, her death would be even more delicious.

The sharp blades of their swords meeting again and again made Tony feel even more anxious and terrified. The pressure not only of the moment but of his friends, who were waiting.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N moved with surprising agility, hitting hard but also evading delicately, as if it were a dance.

She looked so confident, so strong, that Wanda even felt a bit proud, although she would never admit it. 

Strange that Abaddon didn’t attack with all her power, and had a very good reason.

Because when Y/N finally slashed her cheek, the redhead unleashed all the fury of the angel of the abyss.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Okay, enough games.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

With blinding fury, like hellfire, Abaddon advanced striking so hard that Y/N feared her sword would break. Amazed by the redhead's brute strength, she frowned when, with one blow, Abaddon sent her stumbling back.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Surprised?” Abaddon teased.  “You are not the only one with help. I thought you were going to use your wings.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Approaching quickly, Abaddon launched a blow making her fall.

Y/N held the swing of the sword with her own, kneeling, using the strength of her legs but the force the redhead exerted began to make her give way.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“You’re just weak.” Abaddon said through clenched teeth, seeing the demon on the ground, she struck again but Y/N moved quickly, evading it. “Like her.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The Knight hit hard again but only found dust, Y/N stood up nimbly, moving away but always staying alert.

One of the demons was going to attack her from behind, like Jules, but the redhead quickly made it fall back, raising a hand. “She’s mine!” Yelled angrily, and looked at the Leviathan again. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Time after time, Abaddon took the lead and hit her hard. Not only with the sword, but also with punches and kicks. Both hitting the ground, crashing into rocks.

Time passed and they both fought fiercely, but unfortunately the redhead had the upper hand, with just a few cuts and blows. While Y/N, she was much worse.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Abaddon's last sword blow cut her stomach and her left eye, crossing her face, losing the eye forever.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Give up, it’s over. She’s ours.” The Knight of Hell boastfully exclaimed.  

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

She had never seen Y/N like that, defeated and tired. And she loved it.

Y/N coughed up more blood than she expected.

The pain in her stomach and back let her know that she had two large cuts, so deep that blood began to fall like rivers. “As long as I’m breathing… it’s not over.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Leviathan was so hard and stubborn, like waves hitting the rock. Time and time again, she would come back.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Why do you fight for them? They are no better than us, look at them…”  Abaddon pointed to her friends, whom Y/N considered her family for all that time. To whom she would have sold without thinking long ago, and she now was giving her life to protect them. For Wanda, the woman she loved; feeling love for the first time in her life, caring about something other than herself.  

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“They’re terrified, hiding while a ‘demon’ fights for them.”  The blue-eyed demon glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. “Why fight for them? They are parasites.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Taking a deep breath, getting as much air as she could, tried to stay alive.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Sometimes I tend to wonder why…  Why I try?” But Y/N chuckled sadly, shaking her head as she tried to catch her breath.  “Because I have been around them all my life, watching these vermin benefit, feed, and destroy everything in their path. They are parasites.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Finally the demon got up with some difficulty, Y/N spit blood to the side.

Everything hurt, inside and outside. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I’ve seen what they're capable of… I just realized how fucked up they are! Just wandering around through life until they die! Which they know is coming, and yet every single one of them is surprised when it happens to them! They came to Hell saying 'oh no! What did I do?! 'How could I have died?!” Y/N laughed, feeling the pain in her body. Thinking how crazy that all sounded and how strange they could be.

Slowly, she limped closer. and watched them one by one. Knowing their deepest desires, their darkest sins.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“They only think of satisfying their own desires, those two you see there?” She pointed at Tony and Steve. “They were about to beat each other so many times… Tony Stark sold weapons! That they destroyed Wanda's home! Remember? Humans kill each other, which is CLEARLY insane…” Y/N sighed as she saw Wanda,  and then turned to face Abaddon again. “But here’s the thing… When it's something that really matters, they fight. I mean, they're lame morons for fighting sometimes…”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Abaddon tilted her head, trying to understand. To her it was just incoherent babbling.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“But they do. They never, never quit…” Y/N held her sword again. “So I guess I will keep fighting for them too.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The redhead did the same. It was glorious to be able to end someone who wanted to destroy her entire existence, envied since she was made but  also had respect for Leviathan. “It's your death.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Honey, it has been for quite some time. You just don't know.” Y/N smiled mockingly and began to surround her as if she were a wild animal, taking a more alert and less defensive position.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Despite the pain going through different parts of her body, Y/N moved the sword in circles, waiting for the attack.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

…For the ones who try again…

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

And when the redhead attacked, Y/N used the opponent's strength to cut her body and make her stumble. A deep cut across her thigh, making Abaddon limp. 

Natasha's voice reminding her of that move over and over again in their training reached her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Turning to look at her with murderous fury, Abaddon attacked again but Y/N knew how to defend herself until the Knight used the strength of those invisible wings, hitting her chest so hard and making Y/N fall and slide into the protective barrier.

Worried, everyone watched as the demon stirred in pain. The only one who could get past the protection was Y/N, and if Abaddon realized the spell, she would do her best to destroy it.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Don't… move. Their eyes are on me, just... leave. Soon.” Y/N mumbled in pain, still on the ground, trying to catch air like a fish out of water. The demons' laughter made Y/N  close her eyes for a moment, trying to gather the strength to keep going.  She couldn't stop there.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

She had to give them time, she had to help them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N opened her eyes when she felt a presence next to her, a soft hand taking hers, to help her up. Kate Bishop gave her a small smile as Y/N placed the arm around her shoulder for support. Yelena quickly approached to help too.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” The demon muttered barely due to the swelling from the cut on her face, slowly walking with them towards the barrier.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Kate? I have to be honest with you.” She whispered, swallowing hard. “When I met you… I thought you were a fool, like a weak point and desperate for a friend.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Those words made Y/N shed a tear. Ashamed of herself. “I was never so wrong in my entire existence… because you are my best friend. You are a good person, you have a big heart… so please, never lose it. I was the fool, but lucky to have you all.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I do believe that you can change.” Kate dared to say,  those blue eyes so red from crying. The archer was the first brave one to step forward to help her, without expecting anything else. “I don't care that you are a demon, you both were my best friends. I'm sorry I was so afraid of you.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

… For the ones who need a hand…

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Kate said as well and hugged Y/N for a moment, surprising the demon who simply nodded barely.

Knowing that it was a noble sacrifice, despite being a completely dark creature.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Natasha tried to dry her tears and just smiled sadly, each one thanked her in her own way. Even with the silence.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I think this time is going to work. Friday is turning on the machine...” Tony assured, somewhat sadly. “Do you think you can last five minutes?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Five minutes?" Y/N took a deep breath. “Piece of cake.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

But as soon as she was going to leave, Y/N felt arms around her body. A strong, needed hug, a hug that she had waited her entire life for. The demon closed her eyes, trying not to keep crying.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Please don't leave me here.” Wanda begged, hiding her face in her lover's chest. Nothing mattered anymore, not the resentment, not the past, not the pain. The pain in her voice,  Wanda’s crying broke Y/N's heart.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“We can handle them, I- can handle them. Just don't leave, detka. Please.” The Sokovian tried, raising her gaze to fix her gaze on who she knew and considered to be the love of her life. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Smiling with deep anguish, Y/N gulped. “I have to.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The Sokovian's sadness, the pain just made the demons around her, along with Abaddon, laugh like hyenas. Rejoicing in the brunette's pain because they knew it was all they needed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I don’t want you to die.” Wanda sobbed, caressing her face slowly, feeling deep pain when she saw the wound. “I’m sorry.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

And finally, a small and sincere smile, a small light of happiness, returned to those lips.

That was the best ending in the world, how could she not leave being loved by the most wonderful woman in existence?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

She would leave like a champion. Like a champion of good.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I love you.” She kissed Wanda’s forehead and closed her eyes as a small tear escaped down her bloody cheek. The demon couldn't wait any longer, even if that kiss lasted forever.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Slowly, her fingers slid away from hers. Although everything in her being, her mind, her heart, begged to stay… she knew it was best.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“You can do this.” The Sokovian said one more time, encouraging her once again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Turning to look at her and picking up the sword from the ground, Y/N nodded solemnly.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

… For the ones who think they can.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Of course she will do it. For her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“How long again, Stark?” Y/N growled.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“The process will begin in five minutes…” Friday warned, making Abaddon narrow her eyes.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

And without further ado, Y/N returned to attack Abaddon with enormous force. Despite the pain, despite the injuries, despite the death of a friend. She had love, and it was something much stronger than any evil in the world.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Three minutes!” Tony yelled.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Y/N swung her sword and struck so fiercely that the redhead had no choice but to back away.

Surprised, Abaddon's eyes widened as Y/N kicked her stomach and sliced part of the white long neck.

Blood began to fall, leaving the Knight with no choice but to attack again.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

But knowing those movements, and knowing that Abaddon knew nothing but rage, Y/N turned avoiding her in a spectacular move and dodged the blow, stabbing Abaddon in the chest.

A masterstroke, even making Natasha proud.

Smiling the same way Abaddon did when she killed Stolas, Y/N stabbed the sword even deeper until she was close to her face and looked into those malignant eyes. 

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I was always superior to you, I just didn't want to settle for little... like you.” y/n whispered before violently removing the sword. The wound in her redhead's chest began to burn until she consumed it in a gasp of pain.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Breathing deeply and trying to stand, Y/N changed her eyes and watched the demons around her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Abaddon is gone. I am superior now, and I order you not to attack. Anyone who does something I don't like will burn like she did.” Y/N growled at them, looking at them with a murderous look.

The demons simply took a step back and lowered their heads, accepting the orders.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Does this mean we don't have to leave?” Natasha asked, frowning.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

They were about to leave the barrier when Y/N opened her eyes wide and raised her hand, stopping them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Wait.” Y/N whispered.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

She knew that presence, one Y/N hadn't seen for a long time but knew was around.

After a few seconds, a flutter of wings was heard and all the demons quickly moved away, making room for her to pass.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Slowly, that being walked towards Y/N with a unique elegance. Her curly brunette hair danced with every step she took, the armor shining like a sunny day.  She was a great fighter; the long sword, bearer of truth.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I see you've gotten what you wanted.” Raphael said as she watched Abaddon’s ashes disappear.  “Well done! I'm here to make sure you keep your deal.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Y/N?” Tony frowned as Friday reminded him that the process was done, they were only one button away from leaving. “Is this about the deal?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“What deal?” Wanda frowned.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Lower beings should not interfere when adults speak.” Raphael watched Tony as if she were a bird of prey about to pounce on him. And Tony was about to answer, when Y/N intervened.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Wait.” The demon quickly said, expectant of the archangel Raphael's movements. “The deal is that she will be protected and safe. For her to be with her friends, I don't want her to-”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Hold on.” Raphael turned to look at her, letting out an incredulous chuckle. Those blue eyes made her shiver. “That wasn't in the deal. I told you we would take care of her, and that's because I'm here to take her.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Not being able to believe what she was hearing, Y/N looked down somewhat thoughtfully.  “Take her where?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“We’ll keep an eye on the girl in Heaven, we can't let 'The Scarlet Witch' just wander around there like it's nothing.” Raphael rolled her eyes, walking around to see Wanda more closely, as if it were a 'thing'.  “It is a very powerful weapon. And now its ours.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Y/N? What is she talking about?” Wanda looked at Y/N, who was still somewhat pensive.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“I don't care who you are. You're not taking her anywhere she doesn't want.” Steve stepped forward, holding his shield ready to defend the girl. Like everyone else, they took their place in front of Wanda.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“The process has been completed.” Friday repeated.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Y/N?” Tony asked again, hoping for a quick answer. The screen warned over and over again that everything was ready.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

The tension increased again, no one knew what to do or how to react.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“You know the place, right?” Y/N looked up and met Stark's eyes, who nodded knowing perfectly well what she meant. For a moment everyone believed that the problems had been solved, but apparently they had gotten worse.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Stark, don’t.” Wanda took a step forward, ready to leave the protection.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

“Now!” Y/N screamed and swung at the archangel, diverting her attention so they could escape.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

With a simple twist, so elegant and smooth, Raphael deflected Y/N's attack and stabbed the celestial sword into the demon's chest.

Opening her eyes wide, Y/N met Raphael's blue gaze and then fell to her knees.

A simple cut was already deadly, a stab to the heart of that shiny blade was eternal ruin.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

But nothing was as terrifying as Wanda's cry of pain, seeing the woman she loved dying, slowly fading away. A scream so powerful, that a scarlet witch energy escaped from her fingers with such force that it pushed Raphael and all the demons around her so hard.

The strength of that power made the archangel open her eyes big, terrified.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Wanda couldn't stop crying, fighting with everyone to escape from their arms and go to her. With her last efforts, Y/N threw her sword into the protection so Natasha took it, holding it with some fear.

Giving one last look to Wanda, Y/N smiled slightly before disappearing into the ashes.

Without waiting another second, Tony pressed the button and all the suits activated, and they disappeared in a matter of seconds. 

Leaving them behind.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

… And this part was for her, and this part was for her. This part was for her, does she remember?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ

Okay,I know. This was so long, and might be the saddest thing I've ever wrote?

But I hope you liked it, finished it on my bday! ✨✨

Finale is coming soon.

here goes some cuties, the most amazing people tags   ✨  :  @wandanatfan @get-the-fuck-outta-here @idontknow-llol @marvelogic @sunsol-22 @alexawynters @kacka84 🐝

Thank you so much for reading me, sweets! ✨ I'm working hard, but there are only two more left!

If you want me to tag you in the next chapters, just comment and I will. 🐝

[flover4ever]

first date⋆.˚ ౨ৎ ˚ ˖࣪

a/n: i think abt matt and karen's date in that restaurant all the time. such a perfect scene! i wanted to capture that energy. i've always wanted to write a matt x librarian! oc fic. but times are tough and i can never commit to things lol. here's a snippet of what could have been. also, i am not from new hampshire. but oh my god, how pretty!!!!! im jealous.

warning: matt murdock x librarian! reader

matt didn't think his night could go any better. in front of him, he's got the most beautiful girl of his dreams. she told him that he is wearing a white cardigan and light blue dress, the fabric reaches the ground. she told him that the kids from the library tell her it reminds them of when the sky is clear of clouds, only sunny and blue.

matt takes a sip of his wine. "you got family in new york?"

"no," she shakes her head, taking a sip of her water (when he first asked her out, he wanted to take her to drinks. but marianne has sworn off drinking for life). "moved here three years ago."

matt's eyebrows raised. matt realized just how little he knew about her, despite how marianne was the common thread in nelson & murdock. "where are you from?"

"new hampshire." said y/n, a small smile peaking through her, like the first ray of sunshine. "it's beautiful there, so much color and life."

"god, it's hard to describe it," she said. matt loved how she described things, down to its smallest details. she talks in such a cadence akin to deep flowing rivers to morning birds. she can make her grocery list sound like a love poem. "it's hard to capture that beauty... sense of awe at the life around you, you know?"

matt smiled, so hard his cheeks started to hurt. he was sure he'd grow smile lines by the time he's forty if he keeps this up. maybe it was worth it. for y/n. "yeah," he muttered, almost lost in a trance.

"why'd you come to new york, then?" he's genuinely curious, his head titled to the side. "i mean, you make new hampshire seem like another planet next to new york."

she laughs, a giddy and joyous thing. "new hampshire's home. but new york, it never leaves you know? even with the grim and grit, there's something or someone that just makes you want to stay. when I interned here in hell's kitchen, the only thing that kept me moving was the kids. story times, their little faces, their constant questions. all of it. it gave me purpose."

matt hears her heart race, the kind that spoke to one's sense of passion. it was almost melodic, the rapid yet enchanting rhythm of muscle.

"nobody truly understands that they're the future," she said. "our future. i want to give something to them, something irreplaceable."

"like reading?"

"yeah," she sighs, like talking about the children of hell's kitchen filled her with such fervor, she couldn't contain it. "exactly."

"but working with the best lawyers in new york is a definitely a bonus," she adds, holding up her glass of water, the ice swirling against the glass.

y/n narrates what she's about to do, matt chuckles as he does the same, their glasses clinking.

"what about you?" she rested her head on her hand, her heartbeat starting to race as she met his eyes. though their gaze would never be able to meet, his dark gaze became her favorite shade of brown. it wasn't like hers, like earth's dirt in new hampshire's wilderness-- it was gold, shining like embers.

"me?" matt raised his eyebrows.

"yeah," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, her vegan samosas long gone by now. "what made you want to be an attorney?"

"it was my father really," said matt. "he was a boxer. . . caught up with the wrong people. and when i was nine, he died. i tried giving him justice, but no luck. i guess i just don't want any nine year old matt's to feel the same way i did."

"like what?"

"helpless."

her gaze softened. "you're a good man, matt."

"i think you are good, too, marianne," says matt. "better than me."

and he meant it. for years when darning the suit of daredevil, he feels as if there is a twisted part of him taking over his soul. every punch felt one step closer to that. being matt murdock, keeps him grounded-- but that wouldn't be possible without foggy, or karen, or y/n.

she seems like she doesn't have to try. she is effortlessly good and pure. and maybe there is a twisted side to her that she hasn't shown to him. but he's hanging out the hope that this is who she truly is. a person who is kind and good at her core, even if she had to eat through the rotten parts of herself. maybe that's what makes her truly good.

[itzzaira]

Withering Butterflies || future Michelangelo story

TW: Spirits, main character is dying and is aware of this. Mention of passed loved ones (who are also confirmed to be just fine and here)

When a mystic warrior is close to death, no matter the cause or reason of their passing- there are signs.

Signs their mystic magic sends out because it can sense that death is near, that it won't be long before it's time to leave the mortal realm, that their clock is almost done ticking. Such signs could be exhaustion, illness, a following sense of doom, weakened mystic magic, losing control of said magic, mystic aging, increase in visions-

Seeing spirits.

Not like his ancestors whom he tried to talk with on purpose. No, in his everyday life.

This is what they would call Mystic Sickness.

It didn't matter what you died off- it could be because of mystic magic, an attack, it didn't matter. Your mystic energies would sense it. It will let you know. It will make sure you know.

Michelangelo had ignored the signs for as much as he could- the mystic aging was because of the overuse of his ninpo, the exhaustion and loss of appetite was because of said aging, the sense of doom that followed him everywhere was normal they lived in the apocolypse-

He really had ignored it, for as long as he could.

Until the first butterfly had landed on his snout.

The white, glowing butterfly.

Butterflies had gone instinct years ago.

As soon as Michelangelo had seen that first butterfly... he knew he couldn't ignore it anymore.

He was dying.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew he would die much younger than everyone else- he had always known. He was the only mystic warrior the resistance had, the only one who could cure those corrupted by Krang, the only one who could heal, the strongest out of them- which resulted in the overuse of his ninpo. He had assumed it would be his mystic powers that killed him.

He was right.

But no one needed to know that.

Instead of going to Leonardo, like he probably should, Mikey had ignored it. He had ignored how sick he felt, he ignored his hair that fell off in chunks, he ignored the sense of doom that seemed to get worse, he ignored the butterflies that only he could see that followed him everywhere.

...Butterflies that seemed to get more each and each day. The amount of spirits that seemed to be more, much more, following him around-

Until he had sensed the first spirit in Donnie's lab.

"...It is sad to see you sensing me so soon, Michelangelo."

Mikey had just smiled, gently closed the door behind him, and opened his eyes. "Good to see you again, Bary."

"Is it?" The sheep yokai crossed his arms, that same annoyed yet worried scowl on his face that Mikey had missed so much. His body was glowing cyan and his pupils were gone, just like every other spirit he had met until now- did that mean he was Hamato? He wasn't sure, the man didn't have the Hamato symbol- "-because I had hoped to see you hit your forties before you joined us."

Mikey smiled. "Heh... h-hah... hic..."

His smile fell.

He covered his mouth and allowed himself this moment of weakness- letting the orange-glowing tears drip down his cheeks as he slid onto the floor- his legs were too weak to hold him up. Part of the reason he had started floating everywhere. His legs were too weak to stand on.

The butterflies that had been surrounding him went down with him, landing all over his shoulders and head, trying to drink his tears. Michelangelo didn't know what was worse- the fact he was crying like a child... or the fact that the spirits seemed to think they were on the same plane of existence.

"...Oh, child." Draxum bent down next to him- he didn't have any of the old scars he had gotten, Mikey noted. The spirit winced at the orange tears, knowing full well they shouldn't be that color, but didn't comment on it. "You look so tired, Michelangelo."

"I am." The turtle wept, wincing when his tears burned his fingers. He shivered at the sensation of ghostly fingers touching his cheek- it felt cold. So cold.

As cold as he had been feeling, for the past couple of weeks.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew his passing would be painful- probably by his magic ripping him into a thousand tiny pieces, or maybe he would get stabbed or something by Krang- he didn't know. He didn't care.

He foresaw all possible futures, all the possible outcomes, all the possible ways he would wither away. Made sure to be prepared, made sure to fight alone so no one would see him perish. Yet, he was worried.

Worried because until now, he hadn't been able to communicate with any of his family. "Where are my-"

"With your brother." Draxum pulled away, sat down properly, and folded his hands in his lap. "They didn't want to leave, but Leonardo seemed to be having a hard time."

...

"...They're... here?" Mikey could have cried with that knowledge if he hadn't been crying already, but didn't know if that was because of relief or hurt. They had been here? Here? All this time? When he had been searching for his brother's spirits... they had been he here? He... they never left?

They never left them alone.

They hadn't been resting like he'd hoped.

"...Cassandra is here as well," Draxum muttered, recognizing that his adoptive son was getting stuck in his own head again. "She wanted to make sure that Leonardo didn't raise her son to be a, and I quote, 'whimp'."

Mikey snorted. He couldn't help the giggles, covering his mouth with both hands. That sounded like Cassandra alright. She had seen him grow up after all? It... wasn't the best way, but- it was something.

"...Would you like to speak with your father?"

His head snapped up. Mikey looked at the spirit with disbelief, bloodshot eyes blown wide. "...Dad is here too?"

"He never left."

"..." The turtle curled up and winced once his legs ached at the movement. With a flick of his hand, his mystic magic lifted his legs and curled them to his chest. Mikey thought, for a moment... and then shook his head.

"...I doubt I could see him anyway." He mumbled. A butterfly got close to his cheek when a single tear slipped down.

"...I know." Draxum sighed. "I assume I'm the first spirit you're seeing?"

He nodded.

Selfishly, Michelangelo had hoped to find Donatello today, once he sensed the spirit in the lab. But thats okay. He would see him soon enough.

"I'm dying."

Not a question. A statement.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Instead of answering, Michelangelo held out his hand. Another butterfly landed on his finger. Draxum sighed, muttered under his breath, and shook his head. "If you had stopped using mystic magic when I told you to you wouldn't be."

"I was needed." He watched the tiny creature's wings- so fragile, so small- so beautiful. No wonder it hadn't survived this world. "I didn't have a choice, Barry."

"Your magic is destroying you as we speak." Another grumble. "Your future visions are getting out of hand."

The turtle couldn't help it- he cracked a smile. "...You know about those?"

"You wake up floating in the air surrounded by mystic particles and many spirits all around you." The man crossed his arms. "I'm surprised Leonardo hasn't noticed yet."

"I don't want him to know." Mikey cringed when he felt some hair slip down his cloak when he shifted his position to sit more comfortably, then winced when his legs ached. He sighed, defeated. And with the flick of his hand, mystic magic lifted up his legs and crossed them.

Another butterfly settled on his knee.

"...Do you know how you're going to..."

"No." He didn't know if that was good or bad. Michelangelo knew it was important to stay prepared... but he didn’t exactly want to predict his own death. That was just how his visions worked. They were set in stone.

...Which brought up another issue.

"...I can't die yet, Draxum." A single tear slipped down his cheek, which immediately caused a swarm of butterflies to get closer to his face. "I'm needed here."

"You've destroyed yourself doing too much." Blunt, without sugar-coating it- yep, that was Draxum alright. "Your body can't hang on anymore. I'm sorry, Michelangelo."

If he had the energy, the turtle would fight it.

He would get up, say something about how you needed to do more to take this turtle down, then either get S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to scan him or attempt to heal himself, fail, find some books, a cure- something.

But he was just so tired.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew what death was. He knew what it felt like. Cold, lonely, dark. At least. That was what death used to be. These days, death seemed warm. Peaceful. Lovely. And even though he couldn't sense their spirits yet, knowing the rest of his family was near and waiting, made it look so so much better. Heck, even the spirits with him right now- they felt cool, sure. But not freezing. This was a nice cool he used to feel when there used to be Summer breezes, offering relief amongst all the heat and allowing him to breathe.

But just as death had changed... so had life.

Life, which used to be joyful and warm and happy and bright, had turned dark and cold and full of grief. Never full, never well rested, always on the move, always dirty, always cold. Being cold bothered him the most, for some reason. Probably because instinct kept screaming at him to brumate but the turtle couldn't let himself.

Life had changed. So had death. And the other, brighter side didn't seem as bad anymore.

But...

"What about Leo?"

Draxum turned his head back so quickly, looking shocked and... something else. "...You are the one dying. Let me repeat that. Dying. And you worry about your brother?"

"I can't leave him, Barry..."

"He has April and Casey."

"It's not the same."

When their father had been... lost. The four had been together. They had grieved, they buried him somewhere worthy, they prayed.

When Raph had... left. The three had been there. They had been there the moment the building collapsed on top of him, had been with him as he moved from one plane of existence to the other, unwilling to let go and holding onto each other instead.

When Donnie...

...

"What will happen to them when I'm gone, Barry?" His breath hitched in ways it hadn't done for what felt like eons. His shoulders started shaking as he tried to curl up- but the pain that shot up his legs made him freeze instead, which just. Did it.

He couldn't move his legs. He knew damn well why.

Draxum's expression softened as he watched the turtle fall apart, watched the butterflies land all over his face to try and lap up his tears- it was fine. He could be weak. Just this once.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

Heck, he even longed for the warmth and love on the other side.

But...

Magic lifted his legs so he could curl up as he wanted to, and pulled up his cloak so his head was hidden, ignoring the hair that fell at the action alone. He buried his head in his knees, hugged himself, and- apologized.

How selfish.

To leave this cold, horrible world... when he was still needed here.

Needed by April, who needed her little brother to try and light up others- the only positive thing left.

Needed by Casey, who had lost his mother at such a young age, lost half his uncles, and shouldn't be losing another...

Needed by Leo.

Leo, who still blamed himself for something that wasn't his fault every single day. Leo, who started leading the resistance at such a young age to make up for said thing. Leo, who kept trying to give his portions of food because the younger brother just looked so sickly.

How selfish would he be to leave?

He couldn't do that to Leo. Not to Leo.

"They'll find ways to go on." The yokai mumbled, getting closer and letting a ghostly hand rest on Mikey's shell. It felt cold. A nice cold. But still, the mutant flinched away. No. "They've got each other."

"Leo won't survive, Barry." Mikey cried, looking up- okay the tears were starting to burn. It hurt. But at least that meant he was alive. "He barely did after Donnie. He can't. He won't... Barry. I can't leave yet."

"..." Draxum let a butterfly land on his finger. Looked at the insect, lost in thoughts. "...I'm afraid you do not have a choice."

He knew that. He had known for quite a while, even when the turtle tried to lie to himself and make up excuses for all of his symptoms.

But this...

He couldn't lie to himself anymore. Not for this. There was no other explanation as to why he was seeing spirits.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He was afraid of what would happen to Leonardo after.

[thesmokingguns]

Tulip

Pst. You want to be sad?

AUTHORS NOTE/ WARNING: Talk of death and I made myself cry really bad writing this so be prepared.

The best part of Spring, the thing that made you realize that it was a warm weather season and that it was going to be an action packed time was Tulip picking. Something you loved was getting out of the car, looking over the field of reds, oranges, yellows, white, pinks, and purples. It was like a sunset of flowers. The way they swayed, like a hazy summer sun dipping into the ground. You always lost your breath the first few seconds, heart thundering wondering how there could be so much beauty in a world that hurt so much.

This was the first year you were at the tulip fields alone. Forty years ago you were on your first date with the love of your life. You hadn’t known it at the time as you exited his car that this was going to be the man that you married. You hadn’t known that every APril for the next forty years you were going together.

It is your tradition and hell, Axl had always been a sucker for traditions.

So in his memory you had gone to the tulip field. He would have wanted you to be here, you thought. Even if it was the last day and most of the flowers were gone. Leaving a graveyard of where beauty had once stood. This seemed fitting as you reached into the car, grabbing you tote bag and the box that was inside.

There was a young kid working who got up when he saw you, probably about to tell you that they were closing soon but you waved at the old man behind him and he let you through. You had called about this before you came, knew hat you had to ask for permission for things like this.

You can’t spread ashes anywhere anymore. The world was forever changing and with it you were learning the new rules that went along with it.

It was strange, getting older. You had once been this vision. All bare skin that was virant and strong. You had tried to keep up with all the modern positions and exercise but your skin had aged a bit and you haven't fixed the lines around your eyes and mouth. Those shows the smiles you had and the laughter that had once been there. Those lines were a life of love that you had and you could touch them and remember a life before.

When was the last time you laughed?

On your 25th anniversary Axl had given you a dog you had named Chuck. A dog that had a thousand nicknames and who Axl had joked you loved more. But the corgi had been your friend. Running around the tulip fields as you and Axl did your annual walk around, two old birds in love.

Chuck was good because you had tried for a decade to have children but failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy had made you spiral out. Axl hadn’t wanted to see you sad anymore and the pair of you decided to just appreciate what you had together. It was enough. It was enough. It was enough.

The dog had been a replacement in some ways. Spoiled like an only child. But he had been taken from you, stolen one night two years ago. You had cried in Axl’s arms, asking him like a child if he was sure if he wasn’t going to wake up. Poor Axl had rocked you to sleep, dropping everything to hold you and kiss you. Telling you that he loved you. Reminding you over and over again that he loved you. And that had filled some of the hole that was in your heart but it would be a lie to say that it healed.

Now your heart was shattered and sometimes you had to place your hand over your chest as if you were checking to see if you were still breathing. At night when you would wake up, alone in bed you’d place your hand over your heart and remind yourself that you were here. You were alive. For now.

Getting older made you aware of your own mortality. Things like will sand plots. Did you want to go in the ground or in a box? DId you want to be scattered like….yes. Yes, you would be scattered into the ocean at this spot Axl had proposed.

He had proposed after Tulip picking, driving you to the salty aired beach where the rocks were smooth under your toes and where all you could hear was teh waves crashing> Axl touched yoru hand, making you tear your eyes from the ocean that was calling you and then he was calling for you. Love him. Forever. A life.

Yes.

Forever ago. How long did forever last? A question you hadn’t thought of at the time but you were realizing more now that a forever could have an expiration date. And how awful that was.

It was hard. You were sixty and alone. You had asked Axl when you got married if he could wait to die. Let you go first because you didn’t know how you would survive a life without him. A life without him ended up being even worse than you had imagined.

You sat on the wrought iron bench that was painted in the same cheap white paint every year. Thinking about how when you had Chuck how he would hide under the bench as Axl held you close to him, stealing kisses as you looked out at the tulip field. The tulip field that was almost empty this year.

Everything was so empty.

The sun was dipping down. You had put this off for so long and you weren’t sure about how to go about this now. You pulled the box out from your bag, looking at it. You hadn’t really ever looked at it. You knew what you had promised when he died, what you would do with him but when it had happened your heart had been broken and you couldn’t believe that it was really happening. You couldn’t believe that you had made a promise that you didn’t want to keep.

“This is the last year we’re here together.” You whispered, stroking the box as you held the remains of your best friend. The last time you were here together you had kissed in that soft way older people do. Your hands still clinging together as you realize that no matter that time had stolen your youth it had bever been able to steal the love you had for each other.

There has been real magic in your love. Magic that people talk about but you had gotten to experience. There had been hard times, all good love stories have those but even when you were mad Axl would pull you close and demand you sleep wrapped up in each other. It had been wonderful when you were younger because it would only be a matter of hours before you were making love and forgetting whatever you had been mad about. As you got older you’d usually forget what you were fighting about before you were in bed.

“You know, I’m not over you dying yet, Axl. This might be the maddest I’ve ever been with you. But I’m here, at the field, like you asked.” You weren’t going to cry. No. The tears had dried up by now, even though the hurt was just as strong.

Axl had asked for his ashes to be scattered in the field. He had wanted to be the first place he had kissed you. He said every year that the flowers grew that they were more beautiful because he poured all his love into you and every year you came here it strengthened them. Maybe that’s why they looked dull this year. Wilted and out of season because he hadn’t infused his love into the earth for you,

“Loving you has been my greatest pleasure. There is no one in this world who my soul was meant to be tied to more than yours. Forever with you..Axl it wasn’t enough. I want to see you again. I want to be with you I want…” Maybe not all the tears had dried up. “I want you to wake up.” But he was a box of ashes.

You stayed there a beat longer. Your heart aching as you finally opened the box, untying teh bag that held his ashes and sighing out.

“Until we get to be together again, my love. Soon, please God soon.” you begged as you watched the wind dig inside the box picking him up and letting him nourish the earth one more time. Watching him mix in with the flowers the pair of you had watched grow every year.

As he settled in, infusing each flower with a part of him. A part of him that had loved you, so truly and so pure you knew that next year the flowers were going to be the most beautiful that they had ever had.

Your joints ached as you walked back to the car, looking out the windshield as the sun set and you saw the tulip field for what you knew was going to be the last time of your life. It was time for you to go now.

It happened in the car, the same road you always told Axl not to drive too fast on. The only part of the road he would use two hands on, taking his hand off your thigh or from between your fingers to drive. The pain started and your arm went numb. YOu thought you’d be scared but you weren't. You were smiling, laughing. Hearing yourself be happy for the first time in so long.

And when you opened your eyes, a wet tongue was licking your face. And there was CHuck, jumping into your arms as you sat up on the couch. The backdoor opened and Axl walked in, a bunch of tulips in his hand as he looked at you, smiling.

“Oh honey, I’ve been waiting for you.”

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Would've Could've Should've | prologue

listen to: Would've Could've Should've- Taylor Swift| Happiness Is a Butterfly - Lana del Rey (playlist here)

warnings: power imbalance (teacher, student), 20+ years age gap, toxic relationships. Drinking. Implied smut. Grief. As the story progresses warnings will be added.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

He was already inside the bar, quite a while there before you entered it. You didn’t notice him at first, not really. You were too spent to notice him first. The dimly lit room, sparsely populated with only a few patrons scattered around didn’t allow you to get a good look at him. 

He, instead, noticed you right away. There was something about you, a melancholy that he himself felt. It wasn’t per se that you’d made it obvious. No. The older he got, the more he simply knew things. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not really, right now as he nursed the whiskey in his hand, he only felt lost. He stole a glance at you, he noticed the way your face was contorting as you stared at your phone for a moment, the way you struggled not to cry for a single second. Eyes changing, a small kind smile, to Jimmy who asked you for your order. 

“A Martini?” 

He liked your voice. He enjoyed the way it was soft, the way you weren’t ordering anyone, he enjoyed the doubt, he relished in it. He enjoyed it when he was young and didn’t know much. It made you seem as if you hadn’t ordered it before. The corners of his lips tugged slightly before he sipped again on his whiskey, looking away momentarily. 

The bartender, an old man that night, brought you your drink silently. You took it and stared at it for a moment. Your mother wouldn’t like you drinking. She wouldn’t agree. It wasn’t you. You knew she was right, it wasn’t your thing to drink on a Tuesday night. It wasn’t you to cut out all of your friends. It wasn’t like you to move to the other side of the country without telling anyone. But the more you thought, without her, who did you really have?

Looking up suddenly, you feel his gaze and turn, your eyes meet his. His eyes were a deep shade of blue. He was approximately in his late forties, early fifties if you weren’t forgiving. His hair was soft and black, with a hint of white in the corners. There was an air about him that suggested he was cold and intelligent. You weren’t sure how to react, you stared at him. 

And then he smiled at you.  

“First drink of the day?” his voice low and raspy as his eyes fell on the Martini. 

If you were honest, it was your first drink in over a year. You hadn’t had time to drink while you were taking care of your mom. As you sat there, you realized that you hadn’t done a lot of things in your life. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out with difficulty. 

He stares when your hair falls in soft waves around your face. He’d seen his fair share of beautiful people but he felt drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite decipher. A moth to a flame. You shine, sparkling like champagne in the light but then you again, you seemed like you wanted to hide. 

“You?” you asked, watching him intently. 

Beau shook his head. “Not my first,” he confessed. For some reason, he felt self-conscious about the way you were looking at him. He was probably too old for this. In truth, you were thinking he looked lonely too. And for a moment, since your mother, you felt seen. 

“What’s your name?” you asked him, a little bit more forward than before. 

“Beau,” he said. 

“Very French,” you answered, smiling approvingly. 

It didn’t suit him. He seemed to be the type of the men who had a stronger name at first glance but the more you stared at him, you believed you were missing something.  

“You?”

He smiled approvingly as well when you told him. He repeated it, slowly, he enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. You relished the way he said it. His eyes crinkle as he smiled at you. A surprising softness in the way he looked at you, made your heart beat faster for a moment. 

“What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a student,” you answered, honestly. 

Beau cursed himself as his gaze traveled through your whole body. You didn’t give it away. A black pair of heel boots, those jeans, an oversize cream sweater. He understood it was cold, it was December, but you were dressed more conservatively than any of his students. It was also the way you carried yourself, there was a halo about you. You were grown up or you’d been forced to grow up. 

“You don’t look like a student to me,”

You raised your eyebrows as you sipped your Martini. “What do I look like to you?” you asked, giving him a sly side glance. 

Beau’s heart faltered for a moment. At least, that’s what he believed. The way your face lit up, it was a work of art. You were so beautiful, it was almost unfair. It was unfair that you probably hadn’t been born by the time he’d chosen a wife, it was unfair that he hadn’t met you before, it was unfair that he met you today when he’d fought with his wife for what it seemed like the million time this week. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered clearing his throat once he caught that he’d been silent for too long. “You just seemed more mature than for being a student,”

Suddenly, you felt stunned. The statement slices a painless cut in you. He wouldn’t know. He shouldn’t have known that’s what every adult told you since you were a kid. That you’ve always been responsible and mature, that you’ve always been able to relate more to adults, that you never needed someone to take care of you, that you were the one taking care of your mom. For the first time in forever, you don’t relish what he believes is a compliment. 

“It must be a lot,” he said when he figured your mind had gone somewhere else. 

“What?”

“To be as mature as you are,” he answered. “I understand,”

You are stunned, once again. You gaze at him as he takes the last sip of his whiskey and with a sigh, he gazed back at you. You were watching him wide-eyed, searching his features for something. He can see it, the way he just stroked a chord. You were watching him as if he’d known you your whole life. 

 “You want another drink?”

You pressed your lips together as you stared at the Martini for a moment, you tilted your head sideways as you weighed your options. The more responsible part of you thought that you should leave it at that. The other part, well, that other part was the one you’ve been holding back. 

“Thank you,” you said with a nod. 

Beau ordered both of your drinks with a certain ease. He wasn’t like the men you met before. He wasn’t like the boys your age. He didn’t seem cruel. He didn’t seem as insecure as they were. He didn’t seem too entranced by the idea of sex. He seemed like he actually cared. 

“What actually brought you here, if I may ask?” he said quietly as he took another sip of the whiskey. 

“I’m a student,” you answered, drinking your second Martini. “They called me because I’m the best,”

Beau smirked slightly. Nodding, he drank. He savored the way you’d said that you were the best, he enjoy confidence. For him, when he was your age, it seemed like it was the only thing he had. Sure, he was good looking and he was good with planes, but honestly what made him was his confidence. He gazed at you, those eyes looking at him through those long lashes, you felt like a dream. 

“You?”

Beau sighed defeatedly. “Been living here since my twenties,” he said. 

“Never left?”

“Left a lot of times,”

You nodded softly as your eyes took him in. You hadn’t noticed previously, but there, under his leather jacket, you easily could identify the beige uniform. He was Navy. By his age, he was probably an Admiral. You watch him drinking the whiskey, not aware of the way you suddenly tensed up. You could always ask him about it. You could always let him know that you were going to become a student in the next week at Top Gun, you could leave it at this. Selfishly though, you didn’t want to. 

It’d been a while since you’d met someone who actually caused an impression on you. 

“So, Beau,” you said softly. “Tell me about you with one rule,”

His lips tugged upward softly as he watched you, the way you were tilting your head, the way your cheeks were tinted with pink, your rosy lips, that sly smile. 

“Anything you want, doll,” he teased.

He saw you pressing your lips together, trying to drown the smile you felt. He could see how your eyes shimmered at the nickname. Maybe he’d embarrassed you and he truly had, doll sounded like something from the 80s but then again, it’d made your heart flip on your chest.

“Nothing about work,” you said softly, taking a sip and peacefully waiting. 

Beau’s brows furrowed for a moment. He waited, but you didn’t elaborate. A faint alarm could be heard in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. 

“Done,” 

The night passed along. You talked about Queen and Aerosmith. Beau told you how he was never really interested in the Royal Family, you talked about how your mother had told you about Princess Diana since you could remember. You talked about politics but both of you decided to drop the topic soon enough because it was getting to a heated conversation. You talked about ‘One-Hundred Years of Solitude’, how Beau’s father had forced him to read it while you’d stolen it from your mother. You discussed the Yellow butterflies and the way Remedios rose to the sky. He talked about his father and his mother, and how strict they were. You laughed at the stories of his youth, and when he asked you about yours, you told him that you’d been a quiet girl with not many stories to tell. He’d told you that you were still young, that you could still make stories. You wondered if he meant he could be part of them. Then, you talked about what you’re going to do for Christmas and New Year's, you end up telling him that you are going to be alone since you don’t know anyone here and your mom’s gone. 

You don’t expect it to roll so easily off your tongue if you were honest. The warmth of the alcohol fills your belly in such a pleasant way, bubbles climb to your brain and so suddenly your chest doesn’t ache so badly as you tell him that she was sick and had been gone for a month. Beau, who also began to feel like he was levitating around his fifth drink, gazes back at you with a puzzled look. 

When his parents passed away, although he didn’t express much. He always felt comforted by the presence of Lauren and his kids. All of them knew he was sad but he never said anything, all of them knew he needed them. He bit his inner cheek as he recalled those days, the days when he clung to Lauren and his family. It didn’t pass through his mind that he’d been looking for time to get away from them in those days. 

“So, honestly, why are you here?” he then asked softly. “If you’re alone, you could’ve stayed with your friends,”

You shrugged. 

“That’s not an answer,” he said more sternly. You snorted softly while sipping the last of your fifth Martini. In fifteen minutes midnight would come and now you didn’t have it in yourself to be a bit more careful with your words. 

“I don’t want to tell you,” you confessed. 

Beau gave you one of his amused looks. 

“No?”

“No,” you answered shaking your head as you stared at him. His face was lit up with amusement as he stared at you, biting his lower lip. You took a deep breath as you weighed your options, you decided on the latter. “Because you’ll never want to fuck me,”

For a moment Beau thought he didn’t hear you correctly. And then he looked at you, you were dripping beauty, youthfulness. Your eyes for a moment, he could see, were full of lust and that confidence that he now felt so deprived of. There was something inside of him that woke up with you. 

“I didn’t mean,” you began to retract as soon as he didn’t answer. 

Beau shook his head, worried he might’ve offended you and suddenly he held you had. 

Your breathing stopped as you watched his large hand covering yours, holding you. He was cold, goosebumps erupted on your skin as you watched him touch you, then your eyes fell on his. You could see he was trying to hold back, fighting with himself about what he should do. He exhales a sigh. 

“I’m just too old for a girl like you,” he answered softly but he gets closer to you, closer than he’d ever been throughout the whole night. 

Beau, who had been planning to return to his house where his wife was with his three children, was suddenly secretly waiting that you would fight him back on it. He watched you take in the answer as you bit your cheek and nodded softly, for a moment looking away but then scooting closer to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” you answered. 

“What?”

You shrugged but still, he waited for an answer, mostly demanding it by the way he was looking at you. 

“I believe I’m not too young for me to fuck you,” you answered with a Cheshire smile. “Maybe, you’re just too old to fuck me,”

Beau scoffed a small chuckle and for the first time his smile spread all over his face, his eyes crinkled as he watched you in awe, your face lit up in a soft laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he mumbled.

“You’ve given me more alcohol than I’ve had in nine months, this is your fault,” you said shaking your head. You looked around the bar, it was almost empty now. “I’m going to go home,” you finally stated. 

“Let me take you,” Beau said in a hurry as he felt you slipping away. 

You looked back at him for a moment and then down at your hands, his touch lingering. For a moment, you wanted to let him take you but then you saw the gold band on his finger. Swallowing hard you stared at it for a moment. Everything had been so good until that moment, your heart aches at the thought. It wasn’t fair. 

“You’ve been drinking,” you stated as you pulled your hand away, for a moment, the better part of you taking control of yourself. 

“You can’t seem to hold down your liquor,” he answered as he placed some bills on the bar. Nodding towards the older guy while you put on your coat, faster than he expected you to. 

Beau didn’t really know what to do with himself but when he realized, he was closer to you than ever before. So close that he could smell the vanilla and almonds scent from your hair. You tilted your head up, gazing at him for a moment. 

And then just then he realized he never wanted to stop seeing you. 

“If you take me home we will have sex,” you whispered. 

“I don’t see anything wrong in that,” he breathed out. 

You raised your eyebrows at the statement. He didn’t seem to be insincere, he was telling you the truth. But you couldn’t believe it, not even if you wanted to. So, you asked again. 

“You sure you don’t?” you asked, watching him through your long lashes. Beau didn’t answer, he simply shook his head as his hand suddenly fell on your hip. You swallowed hard as you stared at him, pretending that his hand touching you didn’t light a fire inside of you. 

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me,” you finally breathed out. 

A last attempt to dissuade him and yourself, to pull back. But as you heard yourself you knew that it wasn’t true, what you really meant was ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you’. 

“I think it’s too late for that,” 

author's note: I'm so excited about this fic! Let me know your thoughts! I had a depressive episode this week lols. so it's been hard to write but I'm really proud that I've forced myself to write this!

taglist: @abaker74 @mandylove1000 @theyneedhelplol

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - The Evening of a Day of Walking, LM 1.2.1 (Les Miserables 1925)

Early in the month of October, 1815, about an hour before sunset, a man who was travelling on foot entered the little town of D—— The few inhabitants who were at their windows or on their thresholds at the moment stared at this traveller with a sort of uneasiness. It was difficult to encounter a wayfarer of more wretched appearance. He was a man of medium stature, thickset and robust, in the prime of life. He might have been forty-six or forty-eight years old. A cap with a drooping leather visor partly concealed his face, burned and tanned by sun and wind, and dripping with perspiration. His shirt of coarse yellow linen, fastened at the neck by a small silver anchor, permitted a view of his hairy breast: he had a cravat twisted into a string; trousers of blue drilling, worn and threadbare, white on one knee and torn on the other; an old gray, tattered blouse, patched on one of the elbows with a bit of green cloth sewed on with twine; a tightly packed soldier knapsack, well buckled and perfectly new, on his back; an enormous, knotty stick in his hand; iron-shod shoes on his stockingless feet; a shaved head and a long beard. The sweat, the heat, the journey on foot, the dust, added I know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole. His hair was closely cut, yet bristling, for it had begun to grow a little, and did not seem to have been cut for some time.

[kimberlyannharts]

So I may have been slightly hyped for this book the past few months

For the three of you who haven't heard about this, MMPR: The Return is a story set in the future of an alternate universe of the MMPRs; one where Jason, Zack, and Trini didn't give up their powers upon the eve of the Peace Conference, and thus the team stayed together even after high school. But fast forward twenty-two years later, and the team has broken up due to some sort of tragedy - we know from the Re-Imagine prologue in the 30 Year Anniversary book, Zordon and Alpha were destroyed by Zedd and Rita. But other stuff seems to have happened too. What is that stuff? I guess we're about to find out!

Oh, and I should mention this was written by the original Pink Ranger herself, Amy Jo Johnson. (and her partner, Matt Hotson.) That might be important to know.

It's Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Return #1!

= Three pages in and Jason's already getting his ass kicked. You're forty-five years old, man, you should be at the club

= I know this was debated a bit when the book was announced - how it would line up with Thuy and JDF's passings, especially after coming off the heels of Once and Always, where the focal point was Trini's daughter taking up her powers after Trini's death. (For what it's worth, this book was first conceived pre-pandemic, long before OaA. Making comics takes a long time.) And while Tommy is still a bit up in the air (despite what we'll see in a few pages) Trini does seem to have definitively passed due to illness.

While I definitely get the frustration of Thuy's passing essentially sealing Trini's fate - especially in a comic book, where you don't have to worry about actor restrictions - I'm a little more generous towards it here because Amy and Thuy were close friends and she actually dealt with her death personally compared to how the OaA writers, well......didn't. And this issue is clearly paralleling Kimberly's motivations and feelings to Amy's real-life ones, so this just feels like another part of that.

(Also to contrast OaA's handling of Trini - a) her passing here isn't caused by a graphic onscreen explosion, proving the whole "well they HAD to show it onscreen for more impact!!!" was bullshit b) her friends AND THE WIDER COMMUNITY are actually grieving and talking about her impact on everyone as well as using the non-actor-restriction to SHOW it and c) The book actually gives her a JOB. TWO jobs!!!!!!! Yeah OaA why the fuck did you send ZACK to Congress WHEN IT CLEARLY SHOULD HAVE BEEN TRINI

also I like her middle-aged design. prettyyyyyy)

= onto lighter topics HEYYYY IT'S THESE GUYS!! Bulk and Skull are married and you just can't see the ring through Bulk's gloves, it's real and true

= speaking of which this whole flashback is adorable and nostalgic but I want to point out some background details

= Ernie is just trying to run a fucking business here

= go white boy go

= ZACK/KIM HAS FINALLY COME BACK TO ME MY FUCKING BELOVEDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God, when WAS the last time they actually talked one-on-one in the main series

= FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

= so along with some other stuff I'm definitely taking this as foreshadowing that Trini wasn't cut off from Kim like the boys were. That's the power of WOMEN (and also if we get Aunt Trini flashbacks with Olivia I'll fucking CRYYYYYY)

= Absolutely obsessed with Billy's face here

= D:

= So besides the Trini stuff I want to the keep the Once and Always comparisons to a minimum but it's very funny how both storylines involve Billy using a company as a front for his embezzlement schemes. At least his telecom company PROBABLY isn't war profiteering

= also Alpha's rose <3

= so anyway Jason's gone rogue and was pretending he's the main character until he suddenly went missing, as shown in the first few pages. And Billy and Zack want to become Rangers again to try and find him.

= but the thing is guys, Kim has won the idgaf war. She's depressed, she's traumatized, she spent twenty-two years raising a child with Tommy's genes all by herself, she's tired. She does NOT want to be wrapped up in Jason's midlife crisis drama

= Zack getting so mad and wanting to risk it all for Jason hell yeah those are my Jason/Zack crumbs

= Mysterious shadowy figure watching the old people drama from a distance, you are just like me fr

= OLIVIA THAT'S FUCKING OLIVIAAAAAAAAAAAA and she already sounds so CUTE. If you go back to the diner scene you can see the phone constantly buzzing until Kim finally puts it away. She's like mom. mom. mom. MOM

= also just because the tragic Tomberly family storyline already makes me want to kms do you think that ring is kind of small and plain because Tommy and Kim were so young when they got married and it's all Tommy could afford. And Kim still wears it to this day. I want to die

= It's already been confirmed that Selena is indeed referring to Sylvia here, so I won't talk about that. What I DO want to talk about is Kim's casual momwear. Those sweatpants!!!!!!!!!!

= It would be really funny if Kim just. immediately slammed the door shut

[howlingday]

When Yang's ancestor is visiting and spills the soup that Yang has a crush on one of his friends though Yang manages to cover her mouth before she spills the soup completely.

an dragonslayer si fic.

"And who is this?"

The elderly gentleman sat on the floor, his legs crossed, as he puffed on a long pipe. Blowing smoke, he tapped the metal bowl at the end into another on the floor, and burning embers fell into the cool ashes that lay below. His open robe was gold, and decorated with red and orange flames. Along his arms were bright yellow scales. His golden beard was less so as white streaks of hair decorated it's edges.

Weiss stepped closer to the subject of her questioning, but was held back by a firm hand on her shoulder. Taking her place was another blonde, Yang Xiao Long, who held an unusually calm face for finding a stranger in their dorm.

"Hey," Yang called, "who are you?"

"Mm," the man grunted, his tired, blue eyes scanning over Yang, "wo jiao Guang."

In an instant, Yang changed her language from Remnant Common to Elevated Mistrali. Weiss never learned the language herself, as there weren't many who spoke what was once known as the Divided Languages, though she was fluent in her mother tongue, High Atlesian.

"What's he saying?" Blake asked Ruby.

"Uh, something about a hole and a lot of colors." Ruby answered. "Dad and Yang talked a lot more like this than I did. I only caught a few things here and there."

"Seems like he and Yang are getting along well enough." Weiss nodded to the two.

And indeed they were. The two were already smiling and laughing with each other. He reached out to Yang's abdomen with the back of his hand, which she slapped away with a wagging finger. She came back to the team with a grin.

"That was an interesting conversation."

"Who is that old guy?" Ruby asked.

"That old guy is your great-great-grandpa, Rubes." Yang tossed her chin back. "Guang Xiao Long."

"Great-great-grandpa?!"

"Wait, but that would make him-" Blake counted on her fingers.

"Yeah, really old." Yang nodded. "Not bad for a geezer in his 150s, right?" The elder barked. "Fine! Hundred forties! Drama queen..."

"Wait, he's a over a hundred years old?!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Who's over a hundred years old?" The team turned to see Team JNPR approaching, led by Nora. "Is it that shiny guy over there?"

"Nora, don't point." Ren chided.

"Who is he?"

"He's our great-great-great-grandpa!"

"That's one great too many, Ruby." Yang said. "But yeah, he said that he showed up through some kind of wormhole."

"Did they know what wormholes were?" Jaune asked.

"Eh, I gleaned it from what he said."

"Hello, Mr. Old Guy!" Nora waved, which was responded with another wave. He said something to her, which made Yang snap her head. "Thanks! They're real!"

"Um... What's real?" Pyrrha asked.

"Her thighs." Ren answered. "He said she had a rider's gait."

"Oh, uh, is that good?"

"He seems to think so." Nora smiled. "Nothin' wrong with lovin' thick thighs!"

"No, but there's a LOT wrong with hitting on my friends, you old pervert!" Yang barked. Then said something in his language. He just laughed and replied. "Tch. Creep."

"Are we just going to gloss over that Ren knows Elevated Mistrali?" Ruby asked.

"Or that NORA of all people knows it?!" Weiss added.

"I'm more concerned that he's flirting with her." Blake added.

"Well, if he tries anything, I'm sure Yang can take him down." Jaune complimented. "Who better to take him down than his own grand daughter?"

"Sheesh, no need to put me on such a high pedastal." Yang blushed as she turned away. This caught the old man's attention as he called out to her. Yang responded by turning and shouting herself, then covered her mouth. The old man barked a loud laugh. "SHUT UP!"

"What did he say?" Jaune asked.

"He said-" Ren covered Nora's mouth before she could answer.

"Something very inappropriate." He answered for her.

"Oh." Jaune curled his brow. "Gross. I don't want to know."

Yang mouthed a silent thank you to Ren, who nodded in reply.

[chromatic-lamina]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

What way to waste a bit of time on an otherwise busy day! Tagged by @purplehairedwonder

Tagging @afterdeck-ace , @gendervapor14 , @gali-la @ensignsenna @cal-cium-the-nerd @escapaldi and anyone (I mean it) else who'd like to play/try! If you haven't got 10 posted fics, then aim for 4 or 5 or however many you do have posted.

tadpoles in a clawfoot tub

One Piece | G | Gen | 1.9 K | Pre-Marineford, Garp and Roger and then Garp and Ace parallels

Rayleigh didn't know why he bothered.

valuta

One Piece | G | Gen |2 K | Cora & Doffy, Cora & Sengoku, Cora & Law, Law & Sengoku | the story behind Law's coin collection (or one of them)

"Your grandmother's and hers before that."

Riding Along on my Pushbike, Honey (You Look so Pretty)

One Piece | T | Gen | 3.3 K | Aokiji and Law | post Luffy Pirate King AU, Aokiji, Law and Bleat the goat go for a cycle along a frozen river

The mountain streams were filled with smooth basalt like the one Law carried in his pocket. 

Taxi

One Piece | M | AceLaw but not all chapters | 17.6K | AU Law's a taxi driver and picks up a myriad of customers*

Older fic which I reuploaded the 3rd chapter to. I'll open with that, cos the first chapter opening's a bit confronting

Solid advice applied wrongly. Law was good at it.

Forty-Two Superior Teeth

One Piece | T | Law and core hearts | 2.6K | Law and the core Hearts dream on Swallow Island

One thing Bepo had was a super thick skin, and just as well, 'cos those boots were steel-capped. 

Bioluminescent Hearts*

(spoilers chapter 1081)

One Piece | T | Law, Hearts, Blackbeard, Saul | 5.7K | Law and the Hearts all manage to escape well from BB.

Last on first off, the helmsman was a position usually held by the lowest rank, the newest recruit. 

Heart Pirates Week 2023: Jean Bart: Scars

One Piece | T | Law, Hearts, fiiclets | 1.8K total| title says it all

The wooden deck of the Polar Tang wasn't that practical.

MarcoLaw OP Rare Pair Month Drabbles and Ficlets

One Piece | T | MarLaw, Marco and Law Ficlets | 1.8K total| there was only one bed

Law couldn't contain himself to one bed.

Something Old, Something New

One Piece | T | Zoro, | about 500 words| Zoro reflects on rainy days

One eye closed still had depth.

Bepo’s Drabble and One Shot Collection

One Piece | T | Hearts, Ikkaku, Hakugan, Law, Bepo| about 800 words| , chapter 15. Slice of life aboard the Tang

The thing about the huge, huge, huge beanbag that Hakugan had lugged on board when he'd joined them (packed to the softly- moulding-brim with snow geese feathers collected from friends and family), was that it was very white, and so was Bepo.

Sun Path Ozoni

One Piece | T | Hearts and Law| 1275 words| The Hearts debate whose New Year tradition is best, and enjoy a summer celebration.

"Nah man, you gotta use the soy broth."

Patterns: I am writing a lot of Hearts stuff (some due to zines), and also am not writing as much as I used to (busy, and have only got so much to say!). Anyhoo: my openings are relatively short, bar the last one. I don't open with dialogue as much as I thought I did. A touch of description is common, or an internal observation. General observations seem to be popular too.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode Origins — Varian

tw: neglect / mentioned abuse

wanna read the extended story? here’s the table of contents!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT THE NEXT CHAPTER OF PROJECT KILLCODE, THIS IS BACKGROUND FOR VARIAN.

two years prior to the beginning of project: killcode

VARIAN WAS DYING.

He had to be. 

It was freezing. Absolutely freezing, and the broken space heater he was given, though the hot coils were nearly pressed against his back, was doing extremely little to stave off the cold that was seeping into him from the stone he was laying on. 

The obnoxious, intensely loud drilling and banging that was echoing through the mine around him didn’t much help the throbbing headache he’d been sporting for three whole days, either. He was curled into just about the tiniest ball he could muster against the little space heater. He was shaking like a leaf anyways, but also sweating profusely, and he was pretty sure that if he as much as thought about food — the only real driving factor in his life — he would puke up all the nothing inside of him. He only felt this bad when his number was really, really low. He felt like he’d caught a case of the terrible flu that had gone around the mines a few years ago and left the whole place desolate.

His left foot (sockless and shoeless, because socks and shoes and jackets and the like were only for real workers.) touched the freezing cold metal of the new five-by-five tungsten cage he’d been in for the past two and a half months, and the shock of the cold alone was enough to make a sad little noise escape him.

He was so extremely tired; but he wasn’t allowed to sleep when they had men on duty.

The mine — lit by these huge lamps and massive work lights — was almost empty. They were still harvesting some of the few day-old purple crystals (ten feet tall in size, five in width and three deep, because that’s the size they liked.) from the ceiling there, but there were only a few left. Maybe forty-five minutes work.

Varian wasn’t sure he could summon anymore.

He hadn’t eaten in three days — by far the longest he’d gone, which he thought his master’s men knew wasn’t good for a kid like him. The third shift guys were mean; they didn’t give him what his master portioned out just because they wanted to taunt him with it instead.

They didn’t realize that it could literally kill him.

Or they didn’t care.

Varian trembled violently. His white t-shirt and joggers weren’t enough to even begin to ward off the subzero temperatures that were seeping in from the surface. He’d never really been outside the cave, but he knew that wherever he was couldn’t have been a happy place — it didn’t seem to get above freezing ever. He’d even heard the workers say it was warmer in the mines than it was outside.

He couldn’t imagine that.

He coiled himself up tighter, tucking his knees up and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. If he could just make it to first shift, his master would be back and maybe he’d notice Varian didn’t feel well.

How much longer did third shift last?

He was violently pried from his thoughts by the shrill sound of metal banging against metal, over and over. He couldn’t see. When had he closed his eyes?

He peeled his heavy eyelids open and caught sight of the third shift manager staring at him through the bars, which he had been beating with a metal clamping tool. (Varian couldn’t remember his name on a good day, but right now, it was hopeless.)

“Nam nuzhno bol'she kristallov,”

God, his internal translator wasn’t working anymore, and trying to think about it only made his head hurt worse. How he wished everyone spoke English.

Well, for now, the only word in that sentence he could manage was crystal.

“I can’t,” He mumbled hoarsely, so quiet it was more like he was talking to the floor. He gave saying it in the worker’s language a valiant attempt, but he literally couldn’t get his cottony brain to work up what he was trying to say. 

The man’s face, long and round and angry, twisted into a detestable frown. “Tebe luchshe, ili ty budesh' nakazan.”

Varian, again, only caught one word: punished.

He couldn’t be punished again. Last time it’d ended with him unconsious for four days straight, and a fired (aka killed) second shift manager. What if he didn’t wake up this time?

With a shaky exhale, he pushed himself as upright as he could. His arms were shaky and weak and he was so, so tired. As soon as he began to move, the room spun, and he whimpered at the intense and stabbing pain it caused in his head. The spinning also invited in a nice old wave of nausea.

There was a loud bang of the man hitting his tool against the cage again, which made Varian wince at the reverberating pain it shot through his skull. “Khvatit nyt' i sdelay eti kristally, mal'chik.”

He caught two words, that time: Whining; Crystals.

Varian lifted his right hand out toward the rest of the mine, pushing his headache and the fact that he was pretty sure he was dying away as best he could, focusing on the rocks.

Small crystals began to sprout among the large stones, but he could feel his energy draining like there was a hole in the tank. Making so many crystals for these guys on a normal day usually left him fatigued enough for a lifetime, but right now…

The crystals only got to about an inch or two in size before black dots began dancing in his vision, and he had to put his hand back on the floor to keep from literally falling over. 

“I can’t,” He muttered. “My number.”

The man’s face twisted into an expression of pure anger and annoyance as he and the other workers looked out at the minuscule little crystals Varian had made.

With a loud huff of frustration, the man stalked away from the cage.

That could only mean one thing.

Varian laid back down rather ungracefully and coiled his arms up around himself as tight as he could manage, the backs of his eyes burning like they were on fire. His head hurt and his stomach hurt and his body hurt and everything hurt and he wanted to go home.

If he had one, that is.

Varian had never seen a house in his life; not that he could remember, anyway. Beyond his imagination, he had no idea what it would be like to be in a house with parents and siblings. From what the workers talked about, it sounded heavenly.

And Varian had spent his whole eleven years in a cage in a mine.

He only barely managed to keep the tears from falling as the footsteps returned — he would only get punished more if he cried.

The sickening crack crack of an electric baton filled the air, and Varian curled up tighter, eyes burning spectacularly more than they already were. He got his feet and head away from the metal, making himself as small as he could.

It was okay. As long as he stayed conscious, he’d be fine. As long as he didn’t pass out like last time, he’d be fine.

Don’t pass out when he shocks you.

Don’t pass out when he shocks you.

Don’t pass out when he shocks you.

“Dominik, uberi etu chertovu dubinku ot moyey malen'koy igrushki!” He knew that voice. He knew that word. Only one person ever said it: moyey malen'koy igrushki — my little toy.

Varian did actually start crying with a strange relief when he heard the voice of his Master — he wasn’t supposed to be there before first shift, but by some saving grace, he was.

Varian barely saw the shape of Ivan — his master — approach the cage through his tears. He was older, way older than the other workers, and had this weird happiness and nonchalance about him even though he was the one behind keeping a child in a cage for years with no remorse.

“Good morning, moya malen'kaya igrushka,” He said, his accent thick but somehow comforting in a way Varian knew it shouldn’t be. His master crouched down in front of the cage. “Why are you crying?”

Varian exhaled shakily, his hands unwilling to move to wipe away his tears. They were too cold; he was too tired. 

“My number,” He whispered.

Ivan looked back at the third shift manager like a man with murder on his mind. He reached into his toolbelt and retracted a small, long device, fiddling with the end of it for a moment.

“Give me your hand, moya malen'kaya igrushka,” Ivan ordered, gently, and Varian didn’t dare disobey. He carefully slid his hand through the two nearest bars, and Ivan grabbed his middle finger, way gentler than normal, and pricked it with the small machine.

After a moment, the screen displayed the number 19.

“You deny him rations,” Ivan said lowly, with a huff, his dangerous looking blue eyes flicking up to the other man. “You know this number can kill him.”

Ivan dropped the little machine on the stone, whirling on the other man like some kind of angry animal. “Vy ponimayete, chego mne budet stoit' poterya etogo aktiva?! i ty izbil yego, kogda menya ne bylo na smene!”

Varian watched through blurry, bleary eyes as Ivan ripped something else from his belt — something that, when he saw it, hit Varian like a ton of bricks.

The pistol only shined in the lamplight for a moment before: “You are a disgrace to my operation.”

BOOM!

The bang was nearly deafening in the cave, bouncing along the walls and tunnels for several seconds before it fell eerily quiet.

A body thudded next to Varian’s cage. Their heads were close, both pairs of eyes wide, one unseeing and the other full of tears. Part of his head was blown off. There was blood everywhere.

Varian, unable to keep much of a hold on any part of his terrified and terrible-feeling self, threw up whatever tiny bit of anything was left inside of him on the stone near his head. 

His whole body was being wracked by the soft but violent sobs that were ripping their way up his throat. He closed his eyes and kept them shut tight, trying his hardest to ignore the smell of blood and puke.

Two people were going to die in the mines tonight.

“There, there, moya malen'kaya igrushka,” Ivan cooed strangely, and Varian heard him holster his pistol. “Do not worry. I will get you IV bag. We will give you fluid and you will continue working, yes? We will not have to punish you this time, yes?”

Varian had never been happier to hear the words IV bag and not punish in his life.

Ivan walked off, and Varian thought that maybe, maybe if he got that IV bag, he could make it through today.

(To do it over… and over… and over…)

But then, more noises came. 

Fighting noises?

Within ten seconds, the mine erupted into sound and action. There were figures moving here and there, and while Varian couldn’t see much thanks to his tears and progressively worsening tunnel vision, he saw blurs of color moving around him and more gunshots started ringing out.

Chaos. That’s what it was, chaos that Varian couldn’t see, loud chaos. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the loud noises to pass, to give him a break.

And then someone was fiddling with the lock on his cage.

He peeled his gluey eyes open at the sound of the lock rattling. Someone was messing with it.

Someone… black and blue?

The cage door opened after a moment of their fiddling, and Varian only cried harder when the black and blue person with a weird mask came inside the cage with him. What was this? A new form of scary punishment? Was he getting a new master? Why was everything so loud?

“Hey there, kiddo. It’s alright. You’re going to be okay,” 

Varian never thought he’d be so relieved and simultaneously confused to hear a voice in his life — he didn’t know the voice, but he did know the accent. Completely and utterly, unmistakably American.

The only American he’d ever known had been killed for trying to release him.

Maybe this American would be the same.

“Hey, buddy, can you hear me?” The black and blue guy put his hand on Varian’s forehead, which felt so good, because it was so warm and Varian was so not. Despite that, he forced himself to flinch away and squeeze his eyes shut.

He was not weak. He wouldn’t fail another test. He failed the last test where Ivan had tricked him into thinking a worker would let him out — he got punished hard that day.

The guy breathed in, only a little, and very quietly. “It’s okay; it’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. My name is Nightwing. I… bet you aren’t feeling too well, huh?” The guy asked, picking up the little machine from the stone next to the cage and cringing at the number on it. “We’re here to help you — we’re going to get you out of here. What’s your name?”

Varian was wracked by another wave of sobs and trembles at the same time, so he didn’t reply.

Nightwing frowned. “Can I pick you up?”

“No,” Varian forced out. (Wow, his brain was literally malfunctioning. How did he say what he was trying to say? Why couldn���t he remember English?) “Ostav' menya v pokoye.”

Leave me alone.

Nightwing looked off to the side for a minute, the wheels in his brain turning. “Privet, priyatel'. YA znayu, eto strashno, no my zdes', chtoby spasti tebya.”

He spoke the words like he knew them by heart, but his American accent on top of Ivan’s language was atrocious.

Varian let his eyes drift to the other parts of the mine, where people in equally as bright uniforms were beating up Ivan’s men and leaving them on the ground. One in particular, a large one with a red metal helmet, had Ivan against the wall with a gun in his face.

If this was a test, if these were Ivan’s men in disguise, they wouldn’t hurt him, would they?

The guy with the red helmet bashed Ivan in the head with the butt of the pistol, and Varian’s master hit the stone floor.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. After all, Ivan was the only consistent thing he had throughout his entire life. Varian knew it was really screwed up of him to be attached to the man that kidnapped him, put him in a cage, and electrocuted him as punishment when he did wrong, but what else did Varian have to be attached to?

Instead of replying, he made himself tighter (if he even could) and cried there.

He kind of just wanted to pass out. Maybe he was hallucinating.

“Hey; buddy,” Nightwing tried again in English. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

“No!” Varian replied, but it wasn’t like he had much (or any) fight in him when the guy started scooping him up, anyways.

He’d never, ever, ever felt anything near as blissful as the warm guy gathering him up off of the stone. He didn’t think he’d ever felt something so warm in his life.

“There we go. Wow, you’re freezing,” The guy muttered, mostly to himself. “Red, can I borrow your cape?”

A moment passed and then Varian was being moved around, and a thick, nearly insulated feeling fabric was wrapped around him. “There you go, you’re going to be okay. Oracle, I have the boy — around little B’s age, I think. Looks malnourished, and possibly diabetic. There’s a blood tester on the floor and the last test is only reading at nineteen. He’s lethargic. The temperature down here is close to freezing and he’s only wearing a t-shirt and pants.”

A female voice came, quieter, like it was through a phone, but Varian couldn’t hear what it was saying. He was more enamored by how warm this guy was. He tried to press into it, because he was absolutely freezing and he’d never felt anything quite that warm and comfortable before, which prompted the guy to start gently rubbing his shoulder. 

This wasn’t a test?

Was he really about to leave this place?

Was he going to see what was outside of the cave?

Varian hid his face away in Nightwing’s shoulder and sobbed weakly, something strange like hope burning in his chest. 

“I know, I know, buddy,” He said softly, a gentler voice than Varian had every heard in his life. Nightwing’s hand came up and rested on his head, combing gently through his hair. “We’ve got you now — you’re safe. We’re going to help you feel better and get you back to America where you belong. To your parents. They’ve been waiting for you to come home for a long time.”

His… his… 

…parents? 

But… but he couldn’t even remember them…

“Yeah. I’m heading back up to the jet with him now — I’ll see if he’s willing to tell me anything after I get him some warmth and sugar,” Nightwing said, holding Varian closer as he began to move.

“You’re going to be okay, buddy. Everything’s going to be okay,”

That was the last thing Varian heard before he started slipping into unconsciousness, Nightwing’s hand combing through his hair. 

He was going home.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld ❤️

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[hoursofreading]

THE ONLY BOOTH that stood out was at the far end of the exhibition hall. A company had tented its little patch of real estate with an inflatable white cube that looked like a large, quivering marshmallow. Inside the cube was Keith, a soft-spoken man whose earnest features and round physique conveyed a gnome-like benevolence. Beside Keith was a large screen. On the screen was a woman. The woman had dark hair, dark eyes, and purple lips that endeavored a smile. Her shoulders rose and fell, as if to suggest the act of breathing, and though she looked toward me, her gaze was elsewhere. “This is Chatty,” Keith shouted over the roar of the blowers keeping his enclosure erect. Keith worked for SapientX, a company that makes photorealistic conversational avatars powered by ChatGPT. SapientX had custom-built Chatty for Project Voice. Chatty could answer questions about the conference agenda and show you a map of the exhibition floor, except she couldn’t do it just then, said Keith, because they couldn’t seem to connect her to the wi-fi. Keith was happy enough to walk me through the visuals. Chatty’s face was the collaborative effort of fifty different companies. A company in Toronto did the eyes. “There’s like eight guys and all they do is eyes all day,” he said. Chatty’s face was a composite of several different races. Her voice was a composite of several different women. Her voice still needed some work, he admitted. “Right now she’s kinda mean.” I picked up a brochure that featured a roster of “digital employees,” complete with their names, headshots, and “personality scores.” I wondered what industries might hire them. “They’re mostly for kiosks,” Keith responded with a tone of defeat. “Like at a mall or a museum. Also military training. Stuff like that.” Keith directed my attention to the exterior of the cube. A large banner depicted an older male, prosaically handsome, with a square jaw, a custardy dollop of silver hair, and pale, limpid eyes. This was Chief, said Keith. “He’s a navy guy. And he talks like a navy guy. We work in forty different languages. So if you’re training someone in Ukraine how to operate an American tool, we have that language built in.” Keith went back inside to rustle me up a T-shirt. He told me that the company was also breaking into health care — nursing homes, to be precise. Keith explained the vision. Your mom is old, and you’re constantly reminding her to take her medicine. Why not leave that to an avatar? The avatar can converse with your mom, keep her company, fill up the idle hours of the day. Plus, you can incorporate a retina scanner to check her blood pressure and a motion sensor to make sure she isn’t lying dead on the floor. “Say there’s an elderly woman with dementia,” he said. “Her avatar will look like she did when she was younger. So she has someone to identify with. Does that make sense?” I imagined a future geriatric Keith, lying in a nursing home bed, conversing with his younger self. Would such an arrangement appeal to him? “There’s not going to be a choice,” he said. “A lot of old people are going to be talking to avatars in ten years, and they won’t even know it. When I was touring facilities in San Francisco for people with dementia and stuff, those places are like insane asylums. But some patients still have some cognitive function, and that’s who the technology would be for. It’s definitely not going to apply to the guys that are comatose.” We stood in silence for a moment, and he faced Chatty, who hovered before us, drifting in her strange, waking trance. “I wish they could fix the internet,” said Keith. “I swear, she gets nasty. She like, looks at me bad.”

An Age of Hyperabundance | Issue 47 | n+1 | Laura Preston

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Bloody tension

warning : some blood, implied sex, fighting but I swear it's flirting

Info : So this little One-Shot is based on This and This beautiful scetch/picture from @pocketwei (and is also for her) go check out her blog her artwork is amazing and is so fricking beautiful. Have fun reading and thanks again for allowing me this :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji Blackleg and Sir Crocodile. The blond one a real prince with a rich, powerful family and the other one a prince of sorts.

A prince is based on lies, plans and stolen, created wealth. Two men who thought something of themselves, preferred well-groomed looks and both shared the pleasure of nicotine.

But one call, one phone call would create something between the two. Something that brought them together because they didn't even know the other existed before.

But when the crocodile's phone rang and his ring-covered hand reached for the receiver, everything changed. The voice on the other end was one he did not know. He knew his subordinates, he knew all of them except him.

Male maybe younger than him but when he heard the slight burning he knew it was also a smoker. Mr. Prince you say he thought and the crocodile-like grin on his face widened. Made him live up to his name.

The crocodile just waiting for its prey. The cigar hanging from the tip of his heel continued to burn slowly and lightly. The nicotine that went through his body brought him peace as he leaned back in his chair.

He continued to listen to the unknown, enjoying himself more and more and something told him that the future would bring him more fun.

He knew it was like a nice game between a prey and the hunter. ,,This is your lucky day, I'm in a rather playful mood," he said and hung up the phone. Clamping the cigar between his teeth and taking a deep drag, he released the smoke from his nose. Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he looked at his sparkling rings.

The crocodile's grin only seemed to grow. The hunter was looking forward to the encounter. It was to come days later, when the large berzierte wooden door to his office opened.

It only closed again shortly afterwards and the clacking of boots came towards him as Mr. Prince came over the marble floor to him. ,,Mr. Prince at last," Sir Crocodile began, turning his chair around so that he could look at the stranger. ,,Sanji Vinsmoke, please," the blond nineteen-year-old replied, taking a drag on his white cigarette.

The two pairs of dark eyes watched each other, watching the smoke of the cigarette and the cigar.

The black-haired forty-four-year-old let his gaze wander over the younger man. The blond, well-groomed hair brighter than the sun reminded him of the sand that surrounded him.

The shirt and suit were good, more than good, and let the king of Alabastia know that they had good taste on the level. ,,Sanji, I take it you're not here to continue the phone call, are you?" the ring bearer asked, seeing the blond's smirk as he clamped the cigarette between his lips.

Suddenly the blond pushed himself off the ground and kicked at the older man. ,,I'm here to help my captain," he shouted, wanting to make it easier for Luffy. Wanted to help Vivi and the townspeople even if they were pirates he was a gentleman.

He stopped in front of the desk and stretched his right leg over the table, which should have pushed the older one backwards. But it did not.

On the contrary, his shoes protruded through the older man's body. ,,Try and entertain me," Sir Crocodile replied as his strength allowed him not to be hurt by normal attacks.

But the look of confusion and disbelief seemed like a good start to a game. Grabbing the younger man's leg and watching him almost bite through the cigarette as his hand closed tighter and tighter around the leg.

Before he threw the blond off him and dissolved his cigar into sand. Walking around the desk he dodged another kick and flung the young blond off him with a wave of sand.

Sanji seemed to realise that he had no chance and that he was no match for the devil's power. ,,Spin Kick," the older man heard the blond say as the black-haired man tried to punch out and cut the younger man with sand. A short laugh came over the crocodile's lips as the attack went through him again.

It did not harm him and his body simply put itself back together. With a simple movement of his hand, he replaced the marble floor with sand and the blond's hands sank into it.

He heard the surprised sound when the blond's body toppled over and fell to the ground in the sand. ,,Where do you think you're going, prince?" he asked with a grin, not only the nicotine but also the wine running through his body, which was why he had so much patience.

The blond hissed an insult at him as he tried to free himself from the sand that threatened to swallow him. But the older man ignored it for the sake of the conversation. Grabbing the shock of blond hair and pulling it up he heard the short yelp.

The pain that went through the blond's body amused the black-haired man. ,,Come on, is that all you've got?" he asked, almost disappointed when the blond made no real attempt to fight back - he seemed to be beginning to understand that there was only one end.

Before Sir Crocodile tightened his grip on the hair and violently knocked the younger man to the ground. His face collided with the white marble floor and after several more blows he saw the first splashes of red blood on the floor.

The blood from Sanji's burst eyebrow and the blood from his nose dripped almost rhythmically onto the floor as Sir Crocodile paused.

He looked at the younger man and guessed the smile the blond had on his lips. ,,Come on, is that all you've got?" he heard the blond say before he looked to him and Crocodile threw the blond to the ground.

Watching the blond barely catch himself and turn to face him, the black-haired man let his gaze wander over the blond again.

His grip on the blond's jaw and chin held him firmly in place while the golden heel ran through the blond's hair. The blond soft hair that reminded him of Alabastia, of possessing something beautiful and rich.

His thumb smeared the blood on the almost tenderly soft face and the black-haired man imagined all the things he could do. What he could do with the blond who was at his mercy.

But the hunter almost seemed to fall into a frenzy when he saw the blood flowing from the wounds. He had licked blood. ,,Are you going to keep looking at me like that?" the younger man asked, but the silence that had fallen between them did not seem to be unpleasant.

It seemed more like there was something between them, because the blond seemed to be aware that if Sir Crocodile had wanted to kill him, he would have done so long ago. It was only Crocodile's mercy and the blond's beauty that kept him alive.

Sir Crocodile's thumb ran over the blond's bloody lower lip, smearing the blood and reminding him of lipstick. How do you think you are in a cage? the question came to his mind as he pulled away from Sanji.

The blond slumped to the ground on his knees and seemed to be waiting for Crocodile's next move. ,,How much do you think you're worth to your captain?" he asked, fear flashing in the dark eyes as the blond stirred and protested that he should let the crew out of there. A noble act of a gentleman but too late. Sir Crocodile had made up his mind and his prince had to go along.

Just as Sanji was about to take off again, Crocodile grabbed him by the neck and squeezed. He didn't even feel the scratching and kicking of the younger man who was desperately trying to free himself.

To warn his friends and save them. ,,Bloody and painful...I'm going to have a lot of fun with you," Crocodile revealed, watching the blond's discomfort grow as he desperately tried to break free.

But only moments later Sir Crocodile had thundered the blond to the ground with his sand where the younger man lay motionless, unconscious. Reaching into his coat pocket and calmly lighting another cigar, he watched the blond for a few moments.

He saw how calm and almost peaceful he looked as a small pool of blood slowly formed. Away to the golden cage he thought the unsaid words as he carried the blond on sand behind him with a flick of his wrist.

Out of his office, where the puddle of blood seemed to be the only evidence. Before he disappeared with the blond, his new handsome prince, into the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[dyns33]

The Surgeon

Not proud of this one but I wanted to do one last Nigel Colbie x female reader. 

Maybe he's a surgeon ?

The sentence had awakened Y/N in the middle of the night.

One of her colleagues had said this several hours ago, when the entire police station brigade had gathered to talk about the new murder attributed to the serial killer whom journalists had dubbed "The Fanatic" and who eluded the police for more than ten years.

Reports had long since established that the individual was definitely a white male, between thirty and forty, educated, socially well off, smart, and well versed in human anatomy.

There had been mortgages concerning an autodidact, a medical student or a butcher, in any case someone who had never managed to obtain the career he had always dreamed of.

But the track had quickly seemed absurd, because the psychologists who had been interested in the killer had all decreed that there was neither anger nor revenge in his crimes. They couldn't really determine what drove him to kill, there was obviously a ritual they didn't understand, and probably an impulse, but it wasn't related to frustration.

As they started over from scratch, a young policeman innocently asked why it couldn't be a surgeon. Even though it was a respectable, time-consuming job that involved a series of tests to make sure the doctor was fit for the job, if the serial killer they were looking for was really smart, he could look perfectly normal, live a trouble-free life, and find time to kill.

So maybe he was a surgeon.

The phrase echoed in Y/N's mind as she opened her eyes, before looking up at Nigel, still peacefully asleep beneath her.

Nigel Colbie, her husband, a thirty-five-year-old white man, surgeon, the best in his school, coming from a wealthy family, his parents having tragically died in a boating accident and their bodies never having been found. Her husband, calm, charming, normal, except perhaps his passion for the history of the Templars and the religious rites of ancient civilizations.

They had met when Y/N had just gotten her police constable badge and Nigel was still a surgical intern. A totally unexpected encounter, on a bus, because Nigel's car was broken and Y/N didn't feel like walking to work when it was raining.

Sitting side by side, she had liked that he was reading a collection of poetry and he had found the music she was listening quite pleasant. They had talked the whole way, very unhappy when it was time to part ways.

It was Nigel who had asked her for her number. It was also Nigel who had called her first to ask if she wanted to have dinner with him. Two years later, it was he who proposed to her.

Everything had always gone perfectly between them. Normal, since Nigel was perfect. The best at his job, the best husband, the best lover. Despite all the work he had, he found time to cook for her, he was there to massage her feet asking her how her day had gone and he told her all the time that he was proud of his inspector-wife.

The only thing that might have seemed strange was the few details he gave about his past. About his parents' accident, which he spoke about without the slightest sign of sadness. There had been suspicious deaths at his school, but that didn't seem to bother him. The fact that his best friend was accused of these murders, before disappearing.

     "I don't know what to tell you." Nigel replied when she asked him about it. "What happened to my parents is tragic but there is nothing I can do about it. I did not know the two students who died, and regarding Jack, even though I considered him a brother, I cannot condone what he did, so I'd rather forget about him."

     "Jack ? I read in the report that his name was Alex."

     "That was his nickname. My dear Jack, totally mad and clueless. But let's stop talking about him. You didn't tell me if you caught any bad guys today."

     "There was another murder. The Fanatic, obviously. The victim suffered a lot... Yet it could not be seen at all on his face, he looked peaceful. The killer placed the body as a work of art, it was as beautiful as it was disturbing. Of course, no fingerprint, no witness, nothing. We will never catch him."

     "Don't say that." purred her husband, kissing her. "You're the best. If anyone can catch him, it's you. Even though you sometimes seem to admire him a lot. Maybe you can't catch him because you don't really want to."

Trembling, moving slowly so as not to wake him, Y/N slipped out of bed into the kitchen, where she drank some water before splashing water on her face to try to calm herself down.

It might have been nothing. A coincidence. Her tired and wary mind. But if his parents had not had an accident. If Alex Forbes hadn't killed those two students and run away. If in addition to finding time for her, Nigel had time to walk around, meet people he didn't know, and whom he quietly killed before returning home or going to work.

He asked a lot of questions about the Fanatic case, especially since Y/N had been put on the investigation, so he knew absolutely everything the police knew. Meaning that they didn't know anything.

Besides this curiosity, Nigel seemed happy when Y/N complimented the killer. They weren't exactly compliments, but she admitted that he was gifted, very intelligent, and that there was something artistic about these murders. If it hadn't been for the murders, she might have considered him an artist.

And now she was in her kitchen, at two in the morning, wondering if she had married a serial killer. No, it was madness, a nightmare, a ridiculous idea. But then why was she staring at Nigel's phone so insistently ? Why did she text one of her co-workers asking him to check her husband's schedule and whereabouts ?

There was nothing to check. She wouldn't find anything, because there was nothing to find, because Nigel was innocent.

However, since he was innocent, there was no reason for her to be afraid to look.

     "My love ?" a voice asked behind her, startling her slightly.

     "I woke you up ? Excuse me."

     "No, but I sensed that you weren't with me anymore. Someone called ?  A case ?"

     "Just a nightmare."

     "My poor darling." Nigel sighed as he took her in his arms, kissing her forehead. "Come back to bed, you must be exhausted."

Y/N followed him, lay down against him again, her ear against his heart and she didn't sleep until the next day.

It was impossible to explain to her colleagues why she wanted information about her husband. When they asked her if she thought he was cheating on her, she replied that it was something like that. If she said she thought he was the Fanatic, either they'd think she'd lost her mind, or they'd go and arrest Nigel, when there was still a good chance he hadn't done anything. 

It was better if she checked on her own first.

For several weeks she studied the times he had been in the hospital, with witnesses, with her, and the times when it was impossible to know what he had done.

And she had the unpleasant surprise to discover that each time there was a slight gap in his schedule, it left him enough time to kill one of the victims.

But that wasn't really proof. It could only be a coincidence. Because for the rest, there was nothing. No connection between him and the victims. No clues to the crime scene, the bodies, or their home.

Y/N wanted to believe that she was totally wrong. Because she loved Nigel, her Nigel, the best husband in the world who made her terribly happy. But her instinct was telling her to keep looking.

So she continued to track his actions, tapping his phone and being suspicious of everything.

Until the evening when he woke her up with a tender kiss, apologizing because there had been a road accident and he had to go to the hospital quickly.

After a quick check, no accident to report. No surgery scheduled for Doctor Colbie that night. Y/N therefore decided to follow him, tracking his car, in which she had placed a beacon, in case he turned off his phone.

She found him in a small cabin in the middle of the woods.

Slowly, she entered, discovering her husband who was cutting a man, while talking alone. Or rather talking to a skull.

     "See, Jack ? It's really not complicated. You could have done it very easily if you had made an effort, but I was wrong about you. You were not the right one. I think I found my Malaclea, but she's not ready yet. I won't make the same mistakes as with you, I'm not going to rush. She understands my art, I see the admiration in her eyes, something that wasn't in yours, or that you were ashamed of. She just has to understand that it's not bad, and then nothing can stop us."

     "Hands behind your head."

     "... My love ?" he whispered without looking back.

     "Nigel, put your hands behind your head." Y/N sighed, pointing her gun at him. "Please."

He first put down his scalpel before obeying her and turning to her. Nigel didn't seem angry. On the contrary, he was smiling, as if he were really proud of her.

     "I knew you would find me. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment."

     "You wanted me to arrest you ? It might help you in front of the judge. Besides the fact that you're talking to a skull."

     "Jack hears me, even though he can't answer. We're linked in death. I was hoping we'd be linked in life too, but he disappointed me, he wasn't like I imagined. It saddened me so much that I wanted to die, but he didn't even have the courage to shoot me, so I took care of him, before resuming my journey, alone. I had always been alone and after him I thought I'd never find anyone else. Then I met you, my love. And I knew it would be you."

     "Turn around so I can handcuff you."

     "Think of how much we can accomplish together." he continued while still obeying her, letting her tie his hands without resisting. "It would be magnificent and no one could ever suspect us."

     "Please shut up."

     "I know you won't disappoint me, not like him. My heart, my sweet, sweet heart. In the end, I was only killing for you. To see your bright expression when you told me about the case. Do you remember when you asked me about the Templars, because you were wondering if one of the rites had something to do with them ? I thought you had guessed, that I was going to be able to tell you everything. But no, you had seen the design, not the designer. Not yet. But we're finally there !"

He looked so happy, so calm, like the whole situation was normal, that he hadn't just killed someone, that he wasn't talking with a skull, and that Y/N wasn't sobbing, realizing that her beloved husband was mad.

A cry a little louder than the others seemed to wake him up. Nigel was suddenly sad, asking her why she was crying, approaching as if he didn't see the gun, to kiss her like he did whenever his wife was sad.

Y/N let him, too confused to react, and remembering all the good times they had spent together. A hand on her cheek, and another on the hand that held her weapon brings her back to realization.

     "Hush." Nigel muttered, taking the gun, hugging her. "It's okay, love. I know you're a bit lost. It's normal. But I'm going to help you. Come, you'll see, it's simple and wonderful. Jack never got it."

Too scared to refuse, Y/N watched him put the gun in his back pocket, before retrieving the scalpel, which he placed in her hand, before positioning it in front of the corpse. Slowly but firmly, he guided her to open the chest.

Y/N didn't want to look, and at the same time she was fascinated, as Nigel placed his hands in the opening, rummaging inside before pulling out the heart.

     "Normally I do this well, taking the time. But I'm too excited tonight. Look, Y/N, my maraclea. Here is a heart for you, as an offering. A heart that we took together, symbol of our eternal love .Oh, you don't know how happy I am right now !"

He kissed her again, still holding the heart. Y/N let him, while twirling the scalpel between her fingers, considering the options available to her. Kill him and hide his body to avoid scandal. Hurt him and take him to the police station. Follow him in his delirium and continue to live with the man she loved, even if he was sick and he was going to want them to kill together.

A glance at the skull reminded her of the existence of Jack, Axel Forbes, whom Nigel had loved, and who had disappointed him, and whose remained were now on this table. If she didn't make the right decision, she might join him.

So Nigel continued to kiss her, whispering that he loved her, and Y/N continued to play with the scalpel, praying that the last option was that this was all just a bad dream, and that her husband was just an innocent surgeon who was sleeping peacefully next to her and who would laugh when she told him about this nightmare.

[sadiebelle]

i saw the light this morning

(exaggerated but true events of my morning on the 16th of december.)

“good morning!” is what i would say if the morning was good. but it wasn’t. woke up feeling not so refreshed. rough sleep. i had that uncomfortable feeling in my leg that made it seem like i was cooped up in a small space, that i needed a good old streeeeeeeeetch. quite restless! not in the bestest of moods from the get-go.

got out of the warmth of my ditsy floral yellow duvet and my bright pink quilt that my mama got me for Christmas last year. made my way towards my bedroom door, which is always left open in hopes that my cat will join me for a snuggle (she never does…), and stepped over the mountain of clothes i left on my floor. december homework leaves one feeling disorganized sometimes. no time to fold my laundry and make my bed!

anywho. i’m now walking in the hallway, headed towards the bathroom. oh! nevermind. my brother is taking a steaming hot, forty minute shower. great. i’m even grumpier now. i turn to head back to my room (i may as well be productive for the next twenty minutes of his shower, or else i’ll be late for school), and, rather unfortunately, stub my toe really hard on the corner of the hallway banister.

holy moly!!! pain pain pain. oh my gosh. i say some rather colourful words (opposite intention as the word “huzzah!”, but with the same verbal enthusiasm). groooooan. today sucks already. my poor toe hurts so bad. gasp! it’s all red! are you kidding me, how hard did i kick that stupid wooden post? crap! ow ow ow. (oh my gosh, what’s that light at the end of the hallway!? no, stupid, not the sunrise! i think i’m dying! i can see the other end!)

okay… i need a pick-me-up, or else i will be emo for the rest of the day. eureka! i’ll make myself a cappuccino! ugh, i’m so grateful my mom realised that getting rid of our espresso machine was a mistake. her crusty and old french press was just not cutting it. i put my white Nike socks on (my poor toe…), head downstairs, and realize that i’m not wearing my glasses. i can already feel the headache brewing.

i retrieve them: problem kinda solved (i can see, head still hurts). i reach the kitchen to prepare my lunch, neatly packing some cabbage casserole in a glass container (unironically yum i don’t care what you think!), as well as an apple, a chocolate-peanut granola bar (hopefully no one dies upon smelling this, i think mournfully), a spoon, and a dismembered gingerbread man – no frosting. i put some bakery bread in the toaster, though the slices are too long so they stick out awkwardly like a tall person’s feet under a hotel blanket. can’t relate.

i spot the glistening espresso machine, ready for use. oh, you better not disappoint me, girl; i’m holding on by a thread! ok, fast forward to my double shot being poured in my mug, i open the fridge so that i can froth some milk, and guess what? (“what?”, you say out loud) THERE’S NO MILK! are you joshing me right now? %$%&*$, i say. “what’s wrong?” my mom asks from my dining table.

everything, i say melodramatically, facepalming and shaking my head (she laughs at me). my toast pops. i choose to just spread butter on it because i can’t be bothered to fight with the solid block of organic peanut butter my mom insists on buying over the oily stuff. (don’t tell her i said this, because she’ll never let me hear the end of it, but she is right; the organic stuff tastes better) anyways. the rest of the morning is bad. my bangs look clapped. i’m post-period breaking out HELLAAAA. i just remembered that i have work tonight. my sweatpants are sitting wet and cold in the washing machine, no time for them to dry in time. shucks, i guess i’ll just have to wear jeans!

jeff buckley, please give me strength! Yard Of Blonde Girls, bring me to life! (ooh girl, you bet your cheeks it did.) i feel rejuvenated, rejoiced, and reconciled. i will not succumb to my sour mood, nuh uh. goodbye!