#we never talked besides that moment but his memorial service pulled tears from me that i didn't know existed

[avid-idiot]

Little reminder that you have an impact on people, perhaps to a larger degree than you thought. If you must say something, try to keep it kind

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Whumptember

Okay, so I have decided to participate in Whumptember. I have so many other stories to post on here and didn’t want my first writings to be these little drabbles, but I wanted to participate, so here we go. 

Divider Graphic by @firefly-graphics​, Whumptember Prompt by @comfortcap​

September 1st: Nervous to meet them.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” You felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest and you were sure you were going to be sick. Steve stood beside you, holding your hand. “It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise.” He laid a gentle kiss on your temple.

“It’s been five years, Steve. Five… I’m sure he doesn’t even remember me.”

“That’s not true. We talked about you all the time… He never forgot, I wouldn’t let him.”  He squeezes your fingers and gently pulls you into the apartment. He set his gear down in the foyer closet and walked in a bit farther.

“Jamie? Where are you pal? I have a surprise for you.”  You heard his voice before he made his way down the hallway.

“Dad! Your home! Can we do a movie night tonight? I wanna watch the next Star Wars with you. Maybe we could get some Chinese too?” The young boy that stood in front of you brought tears to your eyes. Here, before you, was a tall, lanky, sandy haired miniature copy of Steve. The only difference between the two was their size and the color of his eyes, which mimicked your vibrantly green eyes. He was just over ten years old and came up to your shoulders. He had paused when he saw that his dad wasn’t alone.

“Jamie…” You said, although your voice was little more than a whisper. Swallowing hard as your nerves skyrocketed and you weren’t sure what to say.

“M-Mom?” He asked in disbelief, tears now forming in his eyes. He looked up to Steve for affirmation and Steve nodded his head yes.  He stood there for a long moment, trying to process what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he ran and fell into your arms. “Mom!” He let out with a cry as he held you tight and cried.

You were sobbing at this point and looked up at Steve who was also crying. He wrapped his large arms around you both and held you tight as he saw his family finally being reunited after so long.

Life hadn’t been easy the last five years. He went on a mission that ended up being so much larger than anyone could have imagined, leaving his wife and young son safe at home. They had failed that mission and he had raced home to see if his family was still there, only to find that his wife had been dusted. Luckily, his wife had been with Pepper during all of this and when she was dusted, Jamie wasn’t home alone.

Steve’s heart was shattered at the loss of his wife, but he was so grateful that he hadn’t lost Jamie as well. He wasn’t sure what he would have done or who he would have become if he had lost both of them. He did everything he knew of to bring her back, and then when those options exhausted themselves, he poured himself into being the best father he could. He had made sure that Jamie never forgot his mom, they would constantly talk about her and share memories of her. He never gave out hope that one day, they would be reunited again. When this mission came, he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much, but the only thing he could think about during that final battle was getting back to see if you were finally back home with him.

Seeing you again was like a wave of emotion washed over him. After the battle, he ran to where you and Pepper had been five years ago and found you there, confused and scared.  You had just been there with Pepper and your son and all of the sudden they weren’t there and the whole house seemed different. You were freaking out and tried calling Steve but his number went straight to voicemail. You tried calling other friends but they either didn’t answer or their number was somehow out of service now. What was happening? You were about to start venturing away from the house, when Steve arrived on his bike and jumped off of it, not caring that it crashed onto the driveway. He was yelling your name as he ripped open the front door. You stood there in the kitchen, scared and unsure of what was happening and you saw him look at you as tears streamed down his face. He ran to you and scooped you up, holding you as tight as possible.

“St-Steve. Too tight. What’s going on? Where is everyone? I was here with Pepper and Jamie and now… now they’re not here. Where did your beard go? What’s happening???” Steve pulled away slightly to allow you to breathe better, but he instantly pulled you in for a searing kiss. You momentarily got lost in the kiss before your brain caught up with you again.

“Steve. What’s happening?”

“Sweetheart, I-I don’t know how to explain this. The mission… the mission I was on didn’t go well. We lost. You and half of the world were just… gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” You asked him, confused as to what he was saying.

“Thanos. He wiped out half of the universe. We had tried to stop him, but he was too strong at that point. We tried…”

“Steve… You said I was lost, but I’m right here. I don’t understand.” You were so confused. None of this made any sense.

He looked at you with apprehension in his eyes, hesitating as he tried to find the next way to tell you all of this. “You-You’ve been gone for a while, love. We tried to bring you all back but we didn’t know how. It-it took a while to find a way.”

You thought for a moment before you asked the question you were terrified to know the answer to. “How long?”

Steve bit his cheek, trying to reign in his emotions. He needed to be strong for you in this moment as he knew it would be hard. “Five years, sweetie. It’s been five years.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it wouldn’t go down. Your breath picked up and you felt yourself panicking. You felt like you were going to vomit and you quickly ran into the bathroom to empty your stomach. Steve was right behind you, holding your hair and rubbing your back. After you had thrown up all you could, you turned your body and sat with your back on the cool surface of the tub. Steve sat down beside you, holding you gently and kissing your head. Tears were streaming down your face constantly now.

“Five years? I’ve been gone for five years? W-Was Jamie gone too?”

Steve shook his head no. Which caused you to feel both relief for him not having lost both of you but also the realization that you  had lost five years with not just Steve but with your son as well.

“F-Five years? That would make him…”

Steve nodded his head yes. “He just turned ten last month. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry.” Steve was now crying hard, holding me tight as we both mourned the loss of the time we should have had together. After a while, you both just sat silently together, having cried out all the tears you had.

“What’s he like?” You hesitantly asked.

Steve smiled softly while he thought. “He’s so smart. He got that from you. He loves to build Legos and he draws, actually pretty well for his age. Oh and god, he’s funny. He cracks me up all the time, even when he doesn’t try to. He just has this way about him that makes everyone laugh.” You listened quietly with a sad smile on your face. You knew the question you wanted to ask but were too afraid to ask it. Steve could tell what you were thinking though and he saved you the heartache of having to ask it.

“Yes, sweetheart. He remembers you. Even if he didn’t have the serum to help with his memory, we made sure to keep you alive at home. We told stories, and watched old videos, and had pictures of all of us up all over the house. You may not have physically been there for it all, but I promise, you were there.”

You nodded while tears once again fell down your face. A slight sense of relief that you hadn’t been erased completely. He stood up and reached his hand out to you, gently pulling you up off the floor.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home. You’ve been gone for far too long.”

[caitimetravels]

she’s insignificant

chapter 2: welcome home

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drugs and alcohol, poor parenting

masterlist

“number eight! this is serious! if you do not train properly you will not be allowed to join your siblings on missions.”

“number eight! that’s not how you behave!”

“no, number eight! how many times must you do this before you get it right?”

“no! not like that, number eight! you must be quicker, smarter, stronger! you’ll be a liability”

“no! again, number eight!” 

“number eight!”

“number eight!”

she wished it was stop. the yelling. the shouting. the insults. the pain. the training. all of it. her head hurt. she could feel the anger swirling around, growing. control. she needed control. relax.

she took a deep breath. again. again. she pushed herself over and over until she collapsed. she worked herself to the bone only to always be left with disapproving stares. the scowl. the glare. and then she was alone, forced to pick up the broken pieces and put herself together. she didn’t have her other siblings. their family dynamic wasn’t much of a family dynamic but just once she wished one of them could be there. even just to see what she was going through. it hurt that she was alone. she hated alone.

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

“um..” luther slowly stood, unsure. “i guess we should get this started” he looked around at his siblings sitting in parlour. they all sat separately with klaus making drinks at the bar in the back.

“are we having a family meeting?” y/n stepped into the room, confused. she paused as realisation crossed over their faces. “..you forgot me”

“sorry, y/n, we didn’t mean-” allison started, trying to defend them. y/n shook her head.

“no, no, don’t apologise. it’s okay.. let’s just get this over with” she waved off any concern, taking a seat beside vanya. in her lap sat a familiar book. 

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

“you’ll be okay” ben spoke softly, gently bandaging y/n’s arm. he gave her a small smile. the pair sat in the back of the library, secluded and separate. the others were too wrapped up in themselves to care. 

vanya stepped over a moment later. she frowned at the tears on y/n’s cheeks. taking a seat beside her she offered them the cookies she had stolen from the kitchen. they weren’t meant to have any until dessert but ben and vanya found this much more important. y/n sniffled, taking the cookie in her good arm. 

“thanks v” she gave a watery smile, eating a big bite of the cookie to stop the sobs about to escape her mouth. ben and vanya shared a frown over her head. 

“should we read something?” ben offered, pulling a random book off the shelf behind him. y/n merely nodded, she needed this to calm down her raging emotions. these two were the only two who understood. if her emotions went haywire so would her powers. 

“hm, little women? i didn’t think dad would have this” ben smiled at the cover. 

“pogo got it for me” y/n murmured softly, listening to her brother’s soothing voice as he read. she smiled, they were always able to calm her down.

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

“so, i figured we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown, say a few words” luther started again, “just at dad’s favourite spot”

“dad had a favourite spot?” allison asked, confused. 

“yeah, you know. under the oak tree” luther nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “we used to sit out there all the time.. did none of you ever do that?”

“will there be refreshments? tea, scones” klaus interrupted, walking to join them with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass of alcohol in his other hand. “cucumber sandwiches are always a winner” he waltzed over beside y/n who smiled at his laid-back attitude.

“what? no” luther shook his head, “and put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here” 

“is that my skirt?” allison questioned, looking down at klaus’ attire.

“what?” he mumbled distracted. he put his glass down before turning around. “oh, yeah, this. i found it in your room. it’s a little dated but its very breathy on the.. bits” he gestured.

“listen up” luther put on his leader voice, commanding as usual. “there’s still some things we need to discuss, alright?”

“like what?” diego snapped, obviously sick of this.

“like the way he died” 

“and here we go” diego rolled his eyes and luther glared at him.

“i don’t understand.. i thought they said it was a heart attack?” vanya spoke up, confused. klaus plopped down onto the couch now, wrapping his arm around y/n.

“what? he had a heart attack?” y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, she hadn’t been told that. they all looked at her, surprised.

“you didn’t know?” allison asked softly,

“no? you did?” 

“that’s only according to the coroner” luther chipped in, still pushing his theory.

“well, wouldn’t they know?” vanya raised an eyebrow.

“theoretically”

“theoretically?” allison asked.

“look, i’m just saying at the very least something happened. the last time that i talked to dad he sounded strange” 

“oh, tell us please” klaus gurgled through his drink, not at all serious. y/n would have laughed if she didn’t see the real reason luther was bringing this up. he thought one of them did it.

“strange how?” allison continued to push, incredulous. 

“he sounded on edge, told me i should be careful who to trust” luther frantically tried to convince them.

“luther” diego sighed, standing “he was a paranoid, bitter old man. he was starting to lose what was left of his marbles”

“no” he quickly shook his head, turning to him. “he must have known something was going to happen. look” he looked over at klaus. “i know you don’t like to do it but i need you to talk to dad”

klaus rolled around, disagreeing, “i can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like dad can you stop playing tennis with hitler for a moment and take a quick call” he waved his cigarette around, sitting up and letting go of y/n.

“since when? that’s your thing”

“i’m not in the right frame of mind!”

“you’re high?” allison looked up,

“yeah, yeah!” klaus laughed, nodding his head, “i mean how are not listening to this nonsense?”

“well, sober up, this is important” klaus merely sighed, “then there’s the issue of the missing monocle” 

diego scoffed, “who’s give a shit about a stupid monocle?”

“exactly, it’s worthless” luther was only digging himself a bigger hole, “so, whoever took it i think it was personal. someone close to him, someone with a grudge”

“yes, cause that’s all we need” y/n rolled her eyes, exasperated “more grudges”

“where are you going with this?” klaus narrowed his eyes, confused.

“well, isn’t it obvious, klaus?” diego sneered up at luther, “he thinks one of us killed dad”

luther opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out. it was true.

“and i bet your top suspect is little y/n” diego pointed a finger right at the said girl. she froze.

“what?”

“you do!” klaus sat back, shocked. 

“how could you think that?” vanya stared in disbelief.

y/n stood abruptly and everyone watched as her eyes turned black. the same way they used to when she had trouble controlling her emotions. they watched as she quickly shook her head, storming out.

“great job luther” diego mocked, “way to lead” then he begun to walk away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying” he tried to defend himself but nobody listened.

“you’re crazy man, you’re crazy.. crazy” klaus stood too, picking up his drink. vanya went to walk away, following diego.

“i’m not finished” luther attempted to stop them. 

“okay well sorry, i’m just gonna go help y/n murder mom, i’ll be right back” he commented sarcastically, walking away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying-” it was no use.

y/n curled up beside ben’s statue, book pressed against her chest. she took deep breaths, trying to regain control. her breath came out shaky as she rocked slowly. eventually she relaxed, leaning into the side of the statue. her cheek pressed against the cold concrete. with a final sigh she looked up at him. 

“hey..” she spoke softly, “i brought our book” she gave a weak chuckle, showing the statue the book she had been cradling. 

“i finished again.. should i start again?” 

diego stood in the doorway, watching her talk. he frowned, she was so sweet. it wasn’t her fault she was born with such a horrible curse. he understood why she got along so well with ben, they both hated their powers. it made training unbearable for them. she begun to read aloud, still leaning into the statue as she sat on the gravel covered floor. with a sigh he walked away, she would be okay, she just needed time. 

time didn’t heal y/n, no matter how much she wished it would. she didn’t have anybody, everybody left her. she had to get over everything all by herself. her words started to come out stuttered, her voice cracked. slowly she begun to sob, tears wetting the pages of her book. she wiped them from her face, standing up. she had to be calm.

she spared one last glance at the statue before walking away.

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

“number eight, you must always keep your emotions in check” reginald scolded, glancing up from his notebook. he scribbled something else, ignoring her watery eyes.

“b-but i can’t” she sobbed out, she was young. her siblings were allowed to show emotion why couldn’t she?

“then you are weak!” reginald snapped his book shut, raising his eyes to glare at her. the words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did. she was never enough, she was always going to be weak. she needed to do better, to be better. to be strong. 

--

“emotions, number eight” the girl supressed her smile at the name her mother had just given her. he wouldn’t even use it. her face fell blank.

“emotions, number eight” the girl took a deep breath, no anger. nothing. you cannot feel. she closed her eyes for a moment, controlling her urge to destroy something. she opened them to see a confused diego. this wasn’t how she was meant to react, he had stolen the ring her mother had given her. she just walked away. 

“emotions, number eight” she caught ben’s eye across the table. he nodded softly. she breathed calmly, no dessert. she was weak, she didn’t deserve dessert. five frowned from beside her, looking between her and their father. something was wrong.

“emotions, number eight” reginald turned on her. she stood, hands gripping the table until her knuckles turned pale. how could he let five go? as she raised her head she heard gasps from her siblings. pogo and reginald shared a look as she glared at the latter, taking a moment to calm herself. it wasn’t working. she was struggling to keep her emotions at bay, she couldn’t supress them. “y/n..” vanya whispered as she ran from the table. she couldn’t do it. he was gone and she hadn’t stopped him.

“emotions, number eight” she couldn’t do it. not this time. she shook her head. her eyes filled with tears. she couldn’t. “number eight! emotions!” she shook her head again, all she could feel was pain. it was her fault. she let him die. her siblings must hate her. her father hates her. ben would hate her. she let him die. she watched him die. 

“number eight! your emotions!” reginald’s voice got louder and she heard herself scream. everything was crumbling. he was gone, it was her fault. “number one, do it” 

it was all.. her fault..

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

on her way to the staircase she paused. her eyes lingered on the painting. five’s painting. she felt herself move without wanting to. she stepped into the room, looking up at her brother sadly.

“i’m sorry” she frowned, “i’m so sorry, five. i shouldn’t have let you go. i should have gone after you. i’m sorry, you must be so alone and i lied. i’m sorry for lying.. i should have done better, i should have listened to dad.. i couldn’t bring you back and it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault.. i’m sorry five, i’m so sorry..” 

“sweetie?” she looked over to see grace. “who are you apologising to? did something happen to you?” the blonde robot walked over, glancing over her to see if she had hurt herself.

“oh, no, it’s okay mom” she smiled fakely, trying to reassure her mother. “i was just thinking out loud. nothing to worry about”

“oh, alright, sweetie” she smiled again, “how about something to eat?”

“i’m okay, thanks. i think i’m just going to rest” grace nodded, allowing her to leave.

she wouldn’t be okay, not until she could stop blaming herself. she took one last look at five' picture before she closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. when she opened them she appeared in her bedroom. she quickly shut the door, locking it. at least in here she couldn’t do anymore damage.

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

“number eight” reginald’s voice was disappointed but y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care. so what if she was a failure, she had always been one anyways. “you are no longer allowed to go on missions with your siblings”

she didn’t raise her head. he wasn’t done. this is what she deserved. “you will instead be working on locating number five”

she froze, staring up at him in shock.

“what?”

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

a flash of blue light outside her window broke her out of her thoughts. she stood from her bed, glancing down at the courtyard. it couldn’t be..

[fckwritersblock]

Protection Forever - William Lennox

Lennox x Reader

Description: Running into an old flame at the worst possible time.

Warning: nah. Bad writing? Kinda. Unedited because I was excited. I’ll not when it’s been fixed. Somethings may not be fully aligned with the movie but I tried 😩

Word count: 2500+

Dedicated to @merakiaes hey fren!

All gifs from @meragifs too!

You were an EMT.

The two of you pulled up to meet with the other Autobots, you exiting the vehicle before he transformed. You were in awe as he and the rest of the cars all changed.

The biggest one, their leader, gave a rundown of everything that was happening once he confirmed Sam’s identity. This was just a recap for you as Ratchet had already explained. The teenage boy just stood there stuttering not really knowing how to process everything and you frowned again. That was when you really took notice of two teens just standing there. Having known what was expected of Sam Witwicky you frowned slightly.

“I don’t know about this Ratchet, he’s just kid.” You commented to the alien you had formed a quick bond with.

“And who might you be?” The one called Optimus inquired.

You gave him your name before the other yellow autobot, who you’d later learned was Bumble Bee, uttered something through his radio. It was hard for you to hear but the other robots seemed to be use to it as Ratchet responded immediately.

“The human. I like her.” Ratchet sounding irritated.

Bumblebee made another comment and right before Ratchet could respond one of the others chimed in.

“Wait why do they get humans?” Jazz asked incredulously. “I want one too!”

“Enough! Humans are not pets.” The one call Optimus Prime stated sternly, clearly tired of their bickering. You held your laugh, highly amused.

They were like siblings. A family.

“Exactly I’m just here to help and be a better tour guide than these kids can be.” You confirmed practically forcing your services on them. “Besides they need adult supervision. From the looks of it, you all do.” You grinned at everyone around you. Optimus gave a nod, agreeing.

“She stays. Let’s move.”

In that short amount of time things moved rather quickly. You watched the Autobots accidentally destroy Sam’s backyard when attempting to retrieve the glasses, you were all arrested, you escaped thanks to the Autobots, only to be arrested again.

Fail.

Finally you ended it some secret base. How get you weren’t alone. The government had apparently been on a roll with kidnapping civilians who “knew too much “.

Things weren’t going great but quickly went left when the Decepticons, the Autobot rivals, came to retrieve Megatron.

A war from another planet had officially made Earth its battleground.

You were nervous, trying to figure out how to calm everything down before things started to escalate. Nobody was going to get anywhere with all the bickering. That’s when you saw him.

It had been what? Two years?

Still, without even knowing it, without even knowing you were present, he was still able to make your heart be slow and fast at the same time. The army had aged him, but for the better making him all the more attractive but you couldn’t focus on that right now. Especially when you heard:

“The cryogenic system is failing! We're losing NBE One!”

All the soldiers begin to pack everything that they could to prepare in a fight the way they always did. It was an mirable the way Linux game orders in his men took them without a second thought. The trust there.

“That’s good. Get all the ammo you got.”

“Everything you can carry. Bring it.”

Tearing your eyes away from your former lover you grab Sam.

“Come on, we need Bee.” You reminded him, nodding in Simmons direction

“You got to take me to my car.” Sam said, then repeated when he was ignored. “You have to take me to my car. He’s gonna know what to do with the Cube.”

“Your car? It's confiscated.”

“Then unconfiscate it.” You stared blankly.

“We do not know what will happen if we let it near this thing! -“

“You don't know.”

“Maybe you know, but I don't know.”

You rolled your eyes at the insufferable mans rambling.

This was really was more about ego who was in control more than anything. The guy running the ship, clearly was on a power trip. Unfortunately for him he was facing off against soldiers . The Captain who’s eyes you could feel staring at the side of your face.

A Captain and his soldiers. Ones that really dont like to lose and take serving their country seriously.

The guy who arrested you earlier continue to argue with Sam about getting him back to bumblebee when Lennox finally pulled out his gun sick of the back-and-forth.

“Take him to his car!”

As soon as he did so all hell broke loose and everyone from both parties pulled out a weapon.

“Drop it!”

It wasn’t until One of the sector seven agents pointed a gun at the back of Will’s head that you disable to another agent and took his gun and pointed it directly and held it directly at the one pointing the gun at your ex.

“I really wouldn’t.” You warned.

You were no soldier, but Will have taught you plenty before you broke up. So did your brother, before he passed away. He actually served alongside Will but died in combat. Biking. That’s part of why you were so hurt when Will re-enlisted. When he got promoted to Captain and chose the army over you. You were terrified of losing him the way you lost your brother. The break up wasn’t that messy but you both said things you didn’t mean. In attempts to mask your own pain and hurt one another.

You know. Hurt people, hurt people.

It’s still came to no surprise that you put a bullet in someone to protect him. Together or not you’d never let anything happen to him.

“I'm ordering you under S-Seven executive jurisdiction-“ Simmons ranted.

“S-Seven don't exist.” You interjected, earning a quick appreciative glance from Will.

“Right. And we don’t take orders from people that don’t exist.”

“I’m gonna count to 5. Okay-“ Simmons attempted to threat yet again.

“Well, I’m gonna count to three.” Will deadpanned.

You knew that look. God did you know that look and it was so wrong that you were so turned on.

Finally the Secretary of defense interfered telling Simmons to do what was being asked of him. Everyone relaxed slight, weapons lowering.

“Y/n,”

“Captain.”

The Captain and couldn’t help but watch you how do you get up and prepare to go.

“So that’s her huh?” Epps commented as Will watched you run off with Sam.

“Yeah..” Will answered, mind racing.

While he knew he’d eventually see you again, he didn’t think it would be like this. You looked breath taking.

“Damn. Shorty had your back that entire time.”

“Gear up,”

“What I’m just saying I thought she was gonna put a cap in his.” Epps shouted after his Captain receiving no response.

Will knew you had his back, you always would, the same way he would always have yours. He thought of you often, the break up between two inescapable, never feeling like he did the right thing. You were always not too far from the front of his mind. Him wondering how you were doing. If you were happy. If you found somebody else. There was no doubt he regretted what had transpired between the two of you. It was his fault. He knew that. You knew that. He had ample opportunity to fight for you and he didn’t. When he was promoted Captain he felt he had to choose between you and the army. He didn’t choose you the way he should’ve. In reality he could’ve had both. However hr so caught up proven himself to his deadbeat dad that he possibly let the best thing that ever happened to him go.

Not to mention trying to atone for your brothers death. It wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t shake it. So without talking to you he reenlisted. Needless to say where that got him.

Now hear the both of you were in the middle of an alien war. Yeah. This is the last place he thought he’d see you.

You were numb. The battle on the highway enough to freak you out. For mommy, just a moment you thought this might be a dream but no. This is all very real. One minute you guys were just entering the city trying to lay low, next thing you know - BOOM! The explosion knocked all of you over, injuring some, killing a few. Bumblebee’s legs were partially blown off.

Getting up off the pavement you waited for the ringing in your ear to subside as you stood up, trying to study yourself when you felt a pair of arms hold you still.

You knew it was Will just by the way he touched you, you blinked hard trying not to go down memory lane.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was enough to make your heart skip a bear.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Yeah I’m fine.”

Slowly you removed yourself from his grip and went to check on Sam and Mikaela. Ratchet on the other hand -

“Hmm. His pheromone levels are-“ you quickly turned on him and glared.

“Ratchet I’ll turn you into a can opener if you don’t shut the hell up.”

The robot nearly held his hands up in the surrendering position as he followed you. Will had arranged an aircraft to pick up Sam and the cube while everyone else defended themselves against the deceptive cons in a hurry to get the cube far far away before Megatron arrived. Sam was in a panic and so Michaela, you could see Will’s short fuse getting ready to exploded. It was then you decided to be an escort.

“Sam, you can’t do this alone.” Michaela fussed.

“He won’t be alone.” You commented, causing all parties involved to look at you.

“I’m going with you.” You declared.

“No.” Will didn’t even hesitated as he stepped closer to you.

“Captain Lennox-“

“No!” You grabbed him by the front of his beer and pushed him back.

“Do you see what going on out there?!” You continued to hold on to him and you yelled at him over there chose. “We’re at a war. One we are extremely ill prepared for. So get your shit together! Sam is my responsibility. I have to get this kid to safety.”

This time your hands slid up the side of his face forcing him to look at you.

“Y/n..” he breathed out leaning down toward you, and for the first time during all this madness you could visibly see he was afraid.

“I’ll be back, Will.” You assured him, briefly resting your forehead against his.

Gathering himself he pulled away, looking toward Sam then back at you.

“Go. Go!”

And then we were running.. With nothing but an M16 strapped to your back and the pistol in your hand, you ran faster than you ever have before.

The four of you were under attack once more, you and Sam doing what you had to, to avoid getting snatched up as a fight Ironhide and Ratchet defended you. Unfortunately you were too close to one of the cars that went up in flames and you were thrown into another car from the blast.

“Y/n!” You could feel the blood on your forehead as you slowly pushed yourself up. As you tried to stand you immediately stopped feeling the pain in your thigh. Looking down could see the damage that had been done. The blood surrounding the afflicted area.

“Wha- what, what do i do?!” Sam asked frantically once he took notice of your injury.

“You gotta keep going Sam. I’ll be fine.”

He stood fo his feet, unsure of what to do. When Ironhide told him the same thing.

“Go!” You screamed once more.

Sam left and continued to run without you as you, as quickly as possible, as you tore your focus away from him to pull the shard of glass in your leg out. Ripping a piece of your shirt off you tightly tied it around your thigh in order to stop the bleeding. There was no point in going forward now but the return back to everyone else and help them fight.

You just had to avoid getting killed in the process.

You seen a car steering wheel, a Mountain Dew vending machine and and Xbox all turn into one of those freaky ass robots right before your eyes. All of which you helped others fight off. It was so surreal. In fact, if it wasn’t for the constant ringing in your ear from all the explosions you definitely think you were dreaming. You almost made it back to Lennox and his men when another Decepticon stood between between you and your destinations. They were definitely taking a beating. You saw Epps shooting a green laser indicating the robot that doubled as a helicopter wasn’t a friendly and decided to do what you could to keep the Decepticon from getting any closer to them and hurting any more civilians. In an attempt to draw it away from everyone else, you begin to fire your weapon giving it everything you had.

Unfortunately, the side effective taking its attention off the others meant putting the attention on you.

You ran trying to duck and dodge a bullets now directed your way.

But Will. Will’s heart dropped. Seeing you there defending yourself alone. His pause was brief, the air forces plan already in motion, before he started the motorcycle and was speeding in your direction.

“William!” You screamed for him fearfully as he drove straight toward the robot.

The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You almost couldn’t breathe, you don’t remember the last time you ever felt so scared in your life. But it wasn’t your life you feared for was it?

He rushed forward and slid under the robot continuing to firing the launcher. All you could do was watch as he drove toward you. Toward the danger your mind wondering if he did that on a regular basis. Was this the life of a soldier? What he went through day after day when he was deployed?

Standing up he only spared the parts of the dismembered robot a glance before shouting and turning looking for you. In a matter of seconds he was standing directly in front of you and pulling you into his arms.

Relief.

There was nothing like physically being about to touch someone, hold someone to really know they were okay.

“So…” you began, suddenly feeling nervous. “...That was hot-“

Before you were able to get another word in, he captured your lips with his kissing you roughly and bringing you closer, hands on the small of your back. You couldn’t help it kiss him back just as fiercely put in every emotion you had into that kiss.

Every ounce of passion he had in body, put into this kiss, your lips just as soft, kiss just as pure as he remembered. When you kissed, he knew he was a goner and could never let you go again.

It has been two years since the last time you guys have been this close. This intimate. Reconnected. The feeling it gave you, the indescribable feeling, was one neither one of you ever wanted to forgo again. Pulling back slowly, you both had smiles on your faces, Will pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Excuse me,” Epps interrupted.

The both of you turning your attention on him.

“As cute as this shit is it’s highly inappropriate in the middle of the battle. I’m just saying we are trying to stay alive and shit.”

———————————————

Oh my fu- I don’t even know what this isssss

Couldn’t tell you what my original ideas was or nothing. I believed this was going to short-

I enjoyed writing it though! Shoutout again to @merakiaes for being on this lennox train with me lol

I’m just....I’m just gonna leave this mess here.

Bye

- Mo

—————————-

Tags: @merakiaes @lilythemadqueen

[bokutoslittlebird]

Your Place

Akaashi x sister!reader

Author’s Note : This was originally gonna just be a short drabble but like.. I’ve thought of this before. So I changed it into a full fledged fic; Fukurōdani has a girls’ volleyball club ; Love hotels in Japan are pretty popular, especially in Tokyo, and happen to have kiosks to keep up the anonymity, while also offering options of staying overnight or for a few hours (generally 2-4). The rooms offer lots of options, including room service (including food and toys), such as jacuzzi, showers, massage chairs, King-sized bed, as well as a box of free condoms ; okay I don’t know if a butt plug can actually plug up a vagina and if it is even safe (it should be) so don’t take my words as fact! Please!

Warnings : Incest, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting, naïve and innocent reader, manipulation, alcohol, underaged drinking [legal age in Japan is 20], love hotels, Keiji wants lil sis to be his housewife, mating press, pussyjob, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex toys [butt/anal plug, egg vibrator, hitachi wand vibrator], lots of Nii-sans used, breeding kink, no actual pregnancy (yet), fingering (f. receiving)

The roars of the crowd enters your ears as the ball bounces against the floor of the large stadium, the opposing players diving to receive the ball only to fail. Your team screams and cheers, everyone running to envelope the ace of your team, Akari, as she hugs everyone back. Screaming hurts your ears, yet you’re still doing it. Adrenaline rushes through you as the announcer claims your team with the victory and the announcement that you’ll be moving onto the next round, the finals of Nationals.

Your team lines up, shaking hands with the opposing team as congrats is shared between members. Once that is done, you all face the seats on both sides, bowing and thanking them for cheering you all on. When your eyes look into the stadium seats, they immediately catch the lidded eyes of Keiji, his hands clasped together as he smiles. The simple motion has your chest puffing with pride, tears sliding down your cheeks as you know you made him proud. With your position on the team, he’s the one who trained you to be the best setter the Fukurōdani girls’ volleyball club has ever had these last three years.

Once the moment is over, everyone is back at the hotel room and either on their laptops, phones, television, or asleep. When you exit the bathroom, your hair has been brushed and styled with a nice dress, accompanying the leggings and boots Keiji gifted you to wear. Akari whistles, her arm over your shoulder as she talks to you.

“Who you lookin’ so good for?” She pries, eyes tracing the lip gloss you put on.

“My brother. He requested me to wear something nice. He’s taking me to dinner,” a bit of heat is in your voice as you say that. Keiji’s always pampering you, he loves seeing you dolled up. It’s been like that since you were playing dress-up when he was 10 and you were 5. Akari’s gaze takes on a confused look, pursed lips as she processes your words.

“He’s always taking you somewhere nice after a good game, it feels like. Why don’t you ever invite us?” She finally says. Your head snaps up, looking in the mirror at yourself compared to Akari who is also looking at your face and outfit. It wasn’t glamorous in your eyes, but it suddenly dawns on you that it’s more than a brother should expect. The twist in your gut is ignored, your head shaking as you clear your head.

“He doesn’t know any of you guys. Plus, he’s an alumni. He’s always at our games,” your response isn’t what she was expecting, you’re sure of it. But the truth is, you don’t know why Keiji takes you out to nice restaurants or just on nice walks after games. It’s the few times he has off, always requesting off to be with you, cheering you on, his full support as your brother. Occasionally, he even brings along Bokuto, his best friend, who always congratulates you and asks to have you visit his own team someday. It’s a request that you always turn down, Keiji’s eyes taking on a dark glint that sends shivers down your spine at just the mere memory of them.

Akari leaves you alone after that, your time to get ready slowly coming to an end as your phone rings. It’s Keiji, of course, asking if you’re ready yet. “Almost, nii-san! I just need to get my coat and then I’ll head down.”

He’s at the lobby of the hotel, lounging in a chair as he swipes on his phone. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, black slacks with a nice white dress shirt, all under a large coat to keep out the cold. You bounce up to him, excited for the dinner. “You look beautiful, [Y/N],”

“Thank you! You know me so well, so it’s really all your doing,” you giggle, linking your hand in his offered elbow. It felt so right, being beside as you had been these past few years. Walking towards the restaurant, you didn’t even feel the ache in your ankles and balls of your feet from the heels nor the unmistakeable tension between the two of you. It just felt familiar and right to be in this position, sitting across from Keiji as he lets you gush about all the stuff going through your head during the match or even when you happened to be getting ready for the dinner. A shadow seems to settle over his face as you refer to it as such, just a dinner. You almost referred to it as a date, but quickly corrected yourself.

Tension hangs between you two, you having to force it away by breaking the silence Keiji brings. He’s usually much more talkative, praising you as he talks about what you did right and correcting you on things you did wrong, but never criticizing you too hard. Dinner ends, with Keiji paying the full bill without ever letting you know, saying that he simply cannot let a woman pay, regardless of situation. The champagne and wine he let you have a taste of lingers in your mouth, a burn in your throat from the bitter taste of alcohol. It’s not enough to get you drunk, but you do find yourself clinging to Keiji tighter, feet unstable and legs unreliable as he brings you back to the hotel.

He stops and even in your bubbly and hazy state, you can tell the hotel isn’t the same. “Come on, you need to rest,” he says, lips next to you ear as he ushers you inside. Upon entering the room, the lobby, you know it’s not the same. You panic, the alcohol making you less restrained in your actions as you go to tug on Keiji’s arm.

“Nii—”

“Ah, ah, Keiji, dear. Until we get back to your room,”

His usage of ‘your room’ has your nerves calming down, even as he uses his card to pay the kiosk and tap on the screen, buying something. A metal jingle comes from the bottom of the electronic, Keiji picking up the key to a room. Urging you along, you follow him to the elevator. The lack of people seems to enter your mind, confusing you as you glance around the spotlessly clean black elevator. A small voice enters your mind, telling you that the hotel’s elevators are supposed to be silver, shimmering in the light that shines down.

Keiji has to practically drag you into a room, the door shutting and clicking behind you as it locks. The room is spacious, a large tub in the corner of the room as the king-sized bed offers comfort and relaxation. Yet, you falter— unmoving, your voice seems to barely get out as you question your brother. “Where... where are we?”

“My room for the night, dear. You’re drunk, you need to rest,” his comforting words have you slowly shuffling towards the bed. The chair beside the bed seems too fancy for something in a normal hotel room, more adrenaline entering your veins as you panic from unfamiliarity.

“Nii-san, I don’t like this. Take me back to my room. Akari and Hana and-”

“Shut up, you little slut,” the venom in his words has you squeaking, your much smaller frame easily being pinned to the bed by Keiji’s much broader frame. “I’ve been generous this entire evening and all you’ve blabbered about is your team and your friends. What about me, huh? You haven’t even asked how I was doing the entire date,”

“Nii-san, stop!”

“Do I not hold the most importance in your life anymore? You used to be all over me, my sweet little sister that absolutely enjoyed being around me. Now you’re prancing around as if you have not a care in the world. That boy from the boys’ volleyball club seemed awfully close for comfort, don’t you think?”

“He-,” you once more falter, the brief images from after the game when the captain of the boys’ team congratulated all of you on the win. He wasn’t close to you, you were sure of it, but why would Keiji have been there? “He’s barely a friend, nii-san,”

“Not only that, but you always have that giggle and tendency to twirl your hair as you talk to Bokuto-san, your body moving closer to him as he would walk beside you. You barely acknowledge my existence anymore. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” the tears spill down your cheeks, a hiccup as he continues to say mean things. “I’m sorry,”

“You’ll be graduating soon and then you’re going to live with me. You’re going to live with me and be my little housewife. I’m going to make you completely mine, inside and out,” his breath is hot as it fans over your face, his grip strong as he continues to squeeze and hold your face. You’re unable to do anything, the fear from his words and actions has you frozen beneath him. As his words settle in, ice crawls through your veins as you realize your gut feeling, the tension between you two, everything you ignored for the past hour and a half had a reason for being there. His entire plan was to bring you here, but you’re unable to do much of anything against him — he’s always been stronger than you. When you were young, it was comforting, his arms holding you after a nightmare or even when your first friend moved to America, but now it just served to bring more tears to you eyes, your body forced to let him do what he wants to you.

Keiji’s quick to undress you, your coat being shed as he pushes your fancy dress up, the leggings, shoes, and panties being pulled off and left to fall on the floor. Tears continue to fall, chest heaving as you’re powerless to do anything. Even if you could find the energy to move and attempt get him off of you, it wouldn’t bring anything to fruition. “You’re so dry, are you not enjoying this?”

“No, nii-san. I’m not,” you’re honest with him, yet he doesn’t stop. Sitting back on his heels, he lets his eyes trail over your form. Before a thought can enter your mind to move, he’s pushing his weight on top of you as he grabs something the table beside him, a long metal rod emerging from the miniature dresser. He keeps you pinned, moving the rubber head down to your clit, pressing a button as it begins to vibrate. “Ah! Nii-san,” your muddled voice comes out, the sensation sending an unfamiliar tingling up your spine.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel even better. All you gotta do is relax, pretty girl,”

“I’m- I’m still- y-your—” your words die on your tongue, your gut twisting into a knot as the sensation turns pleasurable. You’ve never touched yourself, always being told by Keiji that only bad girls touched themselves, that whores and sluts did. Keiji-nii doesn’t like those kinds of girls, so you never dared to go against his wishes.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll always be my pretty girl, even if I have to remind you exactly where you belong. I’ll remind you of your place,” his words stop there, but in your head his words continue. Silently, the words of ‘if you’ll let me’ enter, an unspoken question that asks for your consent. Yet, you don’t give him anything else. Your moans and mewls are all he gets, a hand grasping at the unbuttoned dress shirt still on him. A small smile paints along his lips, your vision going black as you roll your eyes. Before the knot can release, the vibrations are removed from your clit and you whine, aftershocks coursing through you.

Keiji’s voice is barely a whisper, under his breath, “I’ll give you something much better, don’t worry.” The vibrator is forgotten and discarded, his hands fumbling with his slacks as he pulls them down, along with the dark grey underwear. His cock springs free, hard and thick and long, you unconsciously scoot away as he strokes himself. “Don’t move away,”

“But it’s scary, nii-san,” you whimper, arms close to your chest as your head bumps against the headboard. He doesn’t say anything, using his hand to rub his cock’s tip against your folds. Contrary to earlier, you’re dripping wet as the wet smacks of his appendage against your skin has you clenching around nothing, more juices dripping out. Moving his hips back and forth, he adds another sensation on your clit as he thrusts in between your folds. His tip catches onto the hood of your folds, brushing against the overly sensitive nerves as you whine and mewl at each move he makes.

“You’re so nice and slick for me, it won’t hurt. It just seems scary, look,” he forces you to do just that, hand gripping your hair as he forces you to look at his cock. The underside of it is glistening with your slick, absolutely dripping with you as it slides down to his base and over his balls. “It’s just in your mind, it won’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

“But nii-san, I don’t want this,” it’s not what he wants to hear, you’re sure of it. Yet he says nothing. A sigh finally breaks the silent tension as he rubs his finger against your cunt, two fingers slipping in until they can’t anymore. You’re tight, you know you are, clenching around only two of his fingers.

“If you didn’t want this, you would still be dry. You wouldn’t be squeezing my fingers so snugly. This is your body saying it wants this, don’t you remember what I said?”

Of course you don’t, he says a lot to you, so you shake your head. Another sigh.

“You need to listen to your body. It knows you better than you know yourself. I know you better than you do, you know,” his words ring true, his fingers continuing to pump themselves into you as he talks. Eventually, the feeling is no longer unfamiliar, the sensation pleasing as you moan. He smiles at that, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead as his fingers retract themselves. Using the slick on them, he rubs them against his cock to use as lube.

Pushing his tip into you is scary, but it’s not painful. As he sinks further into you, it becomes much more painful. The room must be soundproof, since Keiji keeps pushing in without trying to make you stop your screaming. He does, however, lean down to press his lips to your tear-stained cheeks as you squeeze him. He groans, his hips rutting against you. “You’re fine, stop screaming. Stop being so pathetic,”

His harsh words have your screams silencing, tears and sniffles as your walls flutter around him. It still hurts, it burns, it stings, it’s more painful than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. Before you can manage to get adjusted, Keiji is pushing your legs up to your chest, somehow making himself feel deeper than he actually is. The feeling of being crushed is back once more, his hips rearing back only to come back down against your skin. The scream from your throat is more of a moan, nails digging into the back of Keiji’s neck and teasing the small hairs as he pistons his cock into your cunt.

It’s a tight fit, the way you’re sucking him in and squeezing him with every thrust. Keiji’s balls slap against your slick ass, cunt squelching with each pump of his cock into you as more juices are forced out. His own moans and grunts of pleasure are drowning in the wave of mewls, squeals, and moans spilling from your lips. The feeling from before is back, the knot in your tummy as he rubs his cock against the inside of your walls and instead of being denied once more, the knot finally snaps as you cream all around his cock, accompanying a squeal of his name.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me know how good you feel,” he chuckles, picking up his pace as you continue to suck him in. A garbled call of ‘nii-san!’ leaves your lips, the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against you and his thick cock against your fluttering walls has you creaming around him once more. A sound akin to a growl comes from his throat, leaning even further forwards as he gets himself as deep as he can go, the hair at the base of his cock rutting against your sensitive clit. “I’m going to fill you with my seed and you’re going to have my babies, okay?”

“No, nii-san, I don’t want that!” You cries are ignored, your body continuing to clamp around his cock as he shoots his load into you. The feeling of being full and so warm inside has your eyes rolling, drool spilling from your open mouth as you gush around him, clear liquid splashing against his abdomen.

Once the high has passed, he removes his cock from you, keeping you in that position. You don’t dare speak, unsure you’ll be able to as your throat burns from all the screaming and cries. A metal object briefly enters your vision, the object being inserted into your pussy that drips with your brother’s seed, milky white and thick.

“If you keep it all inside, I’ll give you another treat, okay? You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but he does take out another object. “You need to keep having an orgasm, I’ll make sure you feel real good, okay?” A medium-sized egg-shaped object enters your ass, another stinging pain from the insertion. Another round of vibrations start, your legs shaking as you mewl, head thrown back as you feel another orgasm quickly coming on. “You’ll be a good little housewife for me, won’t you? Swollen with my child and your pussy will be all for me, you know this, don’t you?”

Of course you do, regardless whether your mind agrees with you or not. He’s your nii-san and he knows best.

[rotworld]

3: Salamander

The apprentices of Magister Hezethril seem to be dying of horrific accidents with suspicious frequency.

->contains gore, murder, non-consensual touching, yandere, threats, and extreme power imbalance (basically teacher/student).

.

.

.

There’s a commotion in the hallway. A crowd of apprentices, swarming together in a sea of black cloaks, have gathered in the open doorway of the alchemy laboratory. But there’s no excitement among them, no jovial anticipation. They’re whispering and weeping, clinging to one another anxiously. Your heart skips a beat. It can’t be. Not again. You push your way through the crowd, refusing to believe it until you see it with your own eyes, ignoring the voices all around you.

“...looks like Bianca…”

“...the third this week…”

“...couldn’t have done this to herself…”

“Excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a pair of gawking boys. You’re hardly a step into the room when the stench hits you, sharp and unnatural, rust and ozone. Something pale green and foul-smelling is spilled across the stone floor, dripping from an upended cauldron, but what’s worse is the blood. You can follow a trail of pain and slow suffering; a bloody handprint on the glass case in the back of the room. A smear across the table. A spattered drag across the floor, all the way to the lifeless body of an apprentice, her hands frozen in rigor mortis claws in front of her face. Her mouth is still open in a silent scream.

“What in the seven hells is going on in here?” 

The words crack like a whip through the tense air, cold and razor sharp. The crowd parts silently, allowing Magister Hezethril into the laboratory. You make way for him, scrambling out of his path. The Magister is imposing in his long red robes, towering above the apprentices and pushing them aside with webbed hands. His bronze skin turns ink black halfway down his extremities, his nails lacquered with gold. He sweeps forward wordlessly, tendrils of long black hair waving in his wake. His frightening eyes, spots of gold in black sclera, fall upon the dead apprentice. He scowls in distaste. “Who was in the room when this happened?” he asks.

A trembling apprentice steps forward, a young man with blood on his hands. “I was,” he says hoarsely. “I came in to use the lab. Bianca was already here, working on something. She dropped something into the cauldron, I didn’t see what. But all of the sudden, she was gasping and convulsing. She started,” he swallows hard, his hands trembling, “scratching. At her own throat. I tried to stop her, but she fought me. She just kept scratching. There was this awful, wet noise, and then she…” One of the other apprentices puts an arm around him as he begins to sob.

“I see,” Magister Hezethril says. He turns on his heel and walks away. “Clean this up,” he orders, leaving shaken apprentices in his wake. Some scatter, eager to be far away from the gruesome mess, but you stay with a handful of others. The young man who saw Bianca die sits, unresponsive, against the wall. He’s going to need all the help he can get. Several apprentices cover Bianca with a white sheet and take the body away. You and a few of your peers begin scrubbing blood from the floor. You wince at the fleshy chunks of tissue among the mess.

Luca finds something in the bottom of the cauldron that makes him wrinkle his nose. “She was poisoned,” he mutters. “This brew was extremely toxic. No one in their right mind would have brewed it, but there’s some kind of residue in the bottom. I think she was sabotaged.” He pinches a fine, ashy dust between his fingers. You can’t recognize it anymore, singed as it is, but you believe him. The smell in the room leaves a distinct burning sensation in your throat.

Beside you, Sheila squeaks, “Sabotage?” She’s had to leave the room twice to vomit, and she looks like she might need to again.

“It’s not unheard of,” Phoebe says, shrugging. She wipes Bianca’s bloodied handprints from the cabinets. “Lots of mage apprentices die under suspicious circumstances. It’s new apprentices, usually. Young, impulsive, trying to compete. They just want to get ahead.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Sheila insists. “What’s there to compete over, anyway? The Magister hates all of us.” 

That gets a bitter chuckle from everyone in the room. Working together, you get the laboratory cleaned up in no time, every trace of blood and poison mopped up and disposed of. It leaves an empty feeling within you. It feels like you do this more and more often lately, erasing all traces of your fellow apprentices. Memorial services, if there are any, happen in the distant hamlets and villages where the apprentices came from. Life in the Magister’s tower goes on uninterrupted and you’re expected to behave as though the sudden holes opened up at certain desks and in certain dormitories simply do not exist. 

The others are thinking about it now. You can feel that heaviness in the air even with the body gone and all traces of death washed away. Accidents happen anywhere you gather inexperienced mages, but not nearly this many, not so close together. There’s a field south of the tower full of fresh graves and wooden crosses. “Why isn’t the Magister doing anything?” Sheila whimpers. “Is this what he wants? Are we all supposed to kill each other until only one of us is left?”

“Of course not,” you insist. You give her the water pail you were going to use to rinse your hands, letting her take it first. She sniffles as she scrubs Bianca from beneath her nails. “The Magister must know something’s happening. Maybe he’s just being careful. He doesn’t want to say anything until he’s certain he knows who’s responsible.”

“Are you kidding? Magisters get off on things like this,” Phoebe says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a power trip for them. You saw how he looked at Bianca, right? Like she was an insect. He only cares about his favorites. Bet you get extra credit for offing somebody.” 

“That’s awful,” you tell her. 

She shrugs. “That’s life.” 

“I assume you’re done in here if you have time to gossip.” 

The Magister’s voice is like ice down your back. Sheila practically sprints from the room. Phoebe sheepishly greets him and keeps her head down as she leaves. Luca eyes the Magister suspiciously but passes without a word. “Magister,” you address him, bowing your head. He holds out his arm when you try to step past him. 

“Just a moment, apprentice,” he says. You’ve heard him speak to your peers, reducing them to tears with nothing but his hard gaze alone. But when he looks at you, his strange gaze softens with affection. He says “apprentice” as though it’s a term of endearment. You shift uneasily, peering into the hallway behind him in search of your friends, but they’re long gone. A sinking feeling overtakes you when he bumps the laboratory door with his elbow, shutting it behind him. “I won’t keep you long,” he assures you. “Solstice preparations will begin soon. Could I persuade you to assist me?”

Could I persuade you, he says. A phrase unheard of, coming from the mouth of an elder mage. They don’t ask favors. They don’t plead or beg. They give orders, and apprentices jump to follow them. Magister Hezethril is no different, but for you, he will dress up the truth in pretty language, will say it sweetly so it scares you less. But you know better. You hear the threat unspoken. His hand hooks beneath your chin, demanding eye contact. The webbing between his fingers is soft and damp, slick against your skin. “Yes, Magister,” you say quietly. “I would be happy to assist you.”

The Magister’s smiles are uncomfortable, too wide and hungry, too inhuman. “Excellent,” he says. “See to it that your schedule is open, I’ll need you the next few evenings for preliminary research.”

“Of course,” you say. “But, ah, I will need tomorrow evening to myself.”

“Oh?” the Magister says, sounding so unconcerned and casual that you almost slip up, forget who you’re talking to. “And why is that?” You try, subtly, to slip out of his grasp. A mistake, you realize too late, Magister Hezethril’s pupils narrow into slits and he corners you against the back cabinets, slamming his hand against the wooden panels beside your head. You hear the cabinet door splinter, feel it shaking and collapsing inward. You hold your breath. The Magister bends slightly from his great height, his gaze piercing and heated. “Where are you going, apprentice?” he hisses. “Why the rush? Are you hiding something from me?” 

“I’m not, I swear I’m not,” you insist, too weak and hesitant to convince him. You can never lie to him. He always drags the truth out, one way or another. “I just...I promised one of the others that I’d tutor them in incantation.”

The Magister makes a frightening, inhuman sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl, flashing fangs and a black, forked tongue. “This again?” he mutters. “How many times must I tell you that you are above them? They do not deserve your attention. How could you possibly learn everything I have to teach you when you are too busy with these wastrels you call your peers?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, nor the space to breathe. His sharp nails trace your jaw, titling your face towards him when you try to turn away. He looms so close you can smell the fire in his lungs, magic that could reduce you to ash if he so desired. 

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it, if another apprentice were to die,” he murmurs, looming inches from you, his breath warming your lips. “Such a terrible waste. So many accidents these last few months. So many dead.” 

“Please,” you whisper, clutching his shoulders. His robes bunch up beneath your grip but it’s worthless. He’s so much older and stronger than you. “Please don’t hurt anyone else.” 

Magister Hezethril tilts his head, drinking in your fear and submission. He traces your lips with the sharp tip of one nail. “Are you available tomorrow, apprentice?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say shakily. “Yes, I swear, I’m all yours.”

It’s just what he wants to hear. Smiling, he pulls you into his chest. Gently, he smooths down your hair where it ruffled against the cupboards, pushing the creases from your cloak. But he pauses as he does this, catching sight of the thick turtleneck fabric you’re wearing beneath. He toys with it, peeling it down to expose tender flesh. You shiver under the attention, the careful stroke of his fingers along your pulse. “You aren’t just yet,” he says. “But that’s alright. I can be very, very patient.”

You wince when he slices into you, just enough to break the skin. He rolls your turtleneck back up. The wound throbs hot underneath. “See you tomorrow, apprentice,” he purrs. You nod numbly. The laboratory opens and slams the shut, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (7)

Chapter Seven- Gone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: In your pursuit of Karli and her group, unexpected revelations come to light. Lines are now crossed and that there is no turning back.

Warnings: Violence. Angst. A bit of language. Maybe a tear-inducing moment?

Word count: 5k

Notes: In celebration of the last ep, today is a double release! 🥳 We are already at the 7th chapter of this series. It also has covered one of the most climactic episodes of the TFATWS series and wow, I can't believe we are here! 😱

I have yet to see the last episode but I have plans to do it tonight. I thought I could put it off until I finish writing for ep 5 but I couldn't wait. This would help me to plan the direction I want to come for the upcoming chapters. 😌 Hope y’all will stick to this series despite the show has ended. 😅

Please let me know what you think of the series so far! 🥰🙏🏼

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join with a message or comment in the chapters!

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six |

Next: Chapter Eight

-------------------------//---------------------------

With Zemo’s inside information, all of you were heading to Donya’s ceremony in hopes to find Karli. You weren’t sure what to do knowing that you had secured a possible chance with Dovich to talk to Karli.

Grabbing your blazer, you made the move to join your group when you were greeted by the sight of John and Lemar walking towards you all.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you to pull this shit.” John thought it fit to lecture your group. You were walking beside Sam when you heard Bucky sarcastically questioning John on how he managed to locate your group.

All of your annoyance grew as John decided he doesn’t want to miss out on the action given his new status and hence, responsibility as- urgh you don’t even want to say call him that title in your head.

“Come on, man. You don’t think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing too much attention?” Lemar responded in kind.

John in all his fear of missing out started to question why you all had broken Zemo out of prison. Bucky patronizingly mentioned that Zemo broke himself out technically but John grew more irritated at not being taken seriously.

John’s higher than thou self was drawing attention with his loud talk and Sam had to cut him off. Zemo explained that he knew of Karli’s location and indicated continuing on his tracks before being stopped by John.

Sam went on ahead to explain that Karli would most likely be at Donya’s memorial and interception would take place there. Lemar noted the risks of casualties give n that civilians would be present.

John seeming pleased with the information started talking of a plan to take Karli in by surprise. This plan of ambush didn’t sit well with Sam and he proposed to talk to her alone. John refused, saying he didn’t want the possibility of losing Karli again.

Sam countered back that it was the best timing to reason with her, as she was now feeling vulnerable with someone dear to her loss. John vehemently rebuffed Sam’s proposal and claimed that reasoning with Karli was not an option, given that she had bombed a building with people in it.

Lemar, who you observed to be more level-headed than John ever would be chimed in that Sam could be attacked without any backup.

“And if I go in hot and the ops go wrong, more people will die,” Sam stated firmly.

“Sam is right.” Everyone turned to you and you continued to speak. “Look-” You shook in disbelief as you were about to break the promise you had with Dovich but you knew the situation called for it.

“I met with one of Karli’s guys.” All of the men were stunned at your revelation and you could see the betrayal on Bucky’s face more so than the rest.

“When was this?” He spoke up first as he looked on at you in disappointment.

“When we were out fishing for information on Donya, I miraculously spotted him on the streets and followed him. We talked.”

“And you didn’t bring him in?!” John accused as if you had done something terribly wrong. Bucky turned to give John the stink eye before going back to you.

“Why would you keep this from us at all?” Bucky couldn’t believe that you would have kept this information from him of all of the people.

“I promised him, he was going to talk to Karli for me after the memorial. He was our best chance to persuade Karli rather than go in by ourselves. We might not even have a shot.” You defended your actions.

“And how was he so agreeable to your request?” Bucky asked disdainfully. You didn’t like his judgmental stare at you, like as if he couldn’t believe you managed this feat.

“I saved him before back when we all fought the Flag Smashers on the truck. I convinced him with sincerity, happy?” You snapped back at the brooding super-soldier. Sam witnessing the once again tense exchange between the two of you intervened and spoke.

“That’s good, Y/N. Well done.”

“He said that he would only have me speak to Karli but I think you should do it, Sam. I can do talk to him again once he contacts me. You are the best one of us to do it.” You knew of Sam’s experiencing with counselling soldiers dealing with trauma and knew that he would do a better job to talk to Karli.

Sam was encouraged at your support for him and pulled you into a side hug which you returned gladly to him too. Bucky grew irritated at how your relationship with him was continuing to sour and began to feel disheartened. John being the thorn in your side still did not relent in his opinion.

“Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super-soldier alone?” John continued to harp on the matter.

“He dealt with worse and he’s not my partner.” Bucky curtly answered.

“I trust Sam, he’s more capable than you think.” You chimed in. Bucky gave you a brief warm look as the two of you had put your differences aside for a moment to agree on Sam’s competency.

When Lemar asked John to give this plan a chance, you could see the latter wavering on his stance. It seemed his soft spot for his partner and friend worked. The men still thought it was better to go for the memorial straight as they were not sure if Dovich could hold up his end of the promise.

You showed hesitation but decided to give in, knowing that you were outnumbered. Zemo led the group to approach a little girl and you could see him giving some money to the girl in exchange for the revelation of Donya’s memorial.

You all were soon directed to an old building and the little girl pointed up to a stairway before going off. Sam gave you a nod before making his way first.

John took it upon himself to cuff Zemo before stopping Sam, informing him that he only had ten minutes with Karli. You had it with his bossy attitude and wanted to throw a punch in his face.

As the time passed in the room, it was silent. Everyone took a spot to wait but John was pacing up and down. Bucky positioned himself near the door while you took a spot opposite Lemar.

Your eyes glanced nervously to Bucky, suddenly feeling all weird and awkward. You never had this feeling in a long time. The only time you felt his way was when you had just started living with him as you two were on the run and in hiding.

The sudden comfort and ease you had with him seemed to vanish with your first fight as you would call it.

“Hey, uh-now it’s not really the time…” Your attention to Lemar who was now speaking at you directly. Giving a surprising look at his unexpected conversation starter, you listened intently.

“I really am a fan of yours.” Your mouth opened slightly in surprise at his revelation. Tilting your head to the side, you gave him a quizzical look.

“Just thought your powers are really cool. I was amazed to see them in action back in Germany.” You weren’t sure how to react but nodded shyly and thanked him. Bucky couldn’t believe what transgressed in front of him.

Peering over to see you with a bashful expression, he couldn’t help to grow irritated out of jealousy.

“Were you born with them?” Lemar inquired politely and you nodded in response. Lemar had another look of wonder before continuing to ask.

“That’s extraordinary.” You shrugged your shoulders as you didn’t know what to respond. Sure, you know your powers were to be envied but you didn’t think of yourself holier.

“It’s nothing to be envied. I find more respect for people who are able to do extraordinary things without such advantages.“ Your humility gained a deepened sense of admiration from Lemar. “Thank you for your service.” Throwing a smile in his way, yours grew wider as Lemar returned one your way.

Eyes looking over to John, you gave a slight brief nod before looking away. You also had to acknowledge his contributions but you didn’t like him as much so that was the best you could do.

Minutes passed again before John grew more impatient by the second.

“No no no, this is a bad idea.” He started whispering to himself as he shook his head fervently.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky noted with a huff.

“Don’t patronize me.” You could see John getting fed up with Bucky. Walking towards the other end of the room from where Bucky was, John stood to look at the clock and you saw the determination in his eyes. “That’s it. I am going in.”

“Woah, back down mister. You’re being too rash.” Moving to the side to block his path, you held up a hand to stop him from moving.

“And you’re being too relaxed.” He seethed impatiently at your interception. As his hands laid on your shoulders to move you physically, Bucky immediately went to snatch his hand away.

You felt yourself being shifted backwards and towards Bucky before he took a step in front of you. Both men puffed up their chests in dominance and looked at each other with distaste.

“This is all really easy for you two, isn’t it?” John’s eyes moved to yours before landing back at Bucky. “All those serum and powers running through your veins…”

“Your partner needs backup in there. Are you really going to have Sam’s blood on your hands?” John enunciated each word of his last sentence strongly to pressure you.

In a matter of seconds, John looked at the opening Bucky gave when he came to protect you and went for it. He quickly made his way to where Sam and Karli were.

You saw the look of distraught and betrayal on Karli’s face before she lunged for John and knocked him and Sam over. She immediately made a run for it with Bucky hot on her trail. Helping Sam up, you two made your way to back Bucky up.

The big building was an unfamiliar maze and the three of you tried to find Karli’s location. Hearing the sounds of crashing and gunshots, you all tried your best to follow the sounds to the exact location.

When you arrived at the door, you opened it to see Zemo knocked out cold on the floor. John was already at the scene and Lemar just joined a few moments later. The little pieces of glass with unknown blue residues confirmed your suspicions on what they were.

Oh god.

-------------------------//---------------------------

“I deal with the power broker when the time comes,” Karli reassured the two men were worried about fighting two wars with both the power broker and Sam’s group.

“And I know a way we can deal with Sam without getting involved in a direct fight.” Karli intended. Nico and Dovich exchanged a brief look before Dovich asked how they were able to do so.

“We separate them. And then we kill Captain America.” Karli’s intentions didn’t sit well with Nico but he maintained a neutral expression. Dovich sat on the thought for a moment and remembered about you

“Hey look, Sam’s group is an odd mix but I don’t think they mean any harm. Except for Zemo, of course.”

With furrowed brows, Karli indicated for Dovich to explain himself. Dovich decided to speak about the earlier encounter he had with the Avenger.

“I talked with Y/N prior and she promised that she didn’t want any bloodshed.” Karli scoffed at her friend’s words and shook her head in disbelief. How was Dovich so trustful of you?

“That’s what Sam said too. But guess how it turned out.” She retorted with her own example to show how your group couldn’t be trusted.

“She’s not like that. I believe her, she can be trusted.” Dovich insisted. Karli and Nico were curious as to why was their friend was pushing for you.

“What’s gotten into you, Dovich? Why are you defending her?”

“Karli, she saved my life back in Germany. Her actions then spoke louder given she only met us for the first time.”

“She’s still loyal to her group. She’s loyal to the Avengers.” Karli continued to put down Dovich’s vouch for you. He then decided to change his tactics.

“I think she can be convinced to join our group. Imagine if she stood on our side, we would be unstoppable.” Karli looked up in interest as she considered the possibility of you fighting for their cause. Indeed, with your powers, the Flag Smashers would become a force to be reckoned with.

“That’s impossible.” Karli tried to reason with the fact that you were still with the enemy and you wouldn’t be turned so easily. She knew of your history and how you were loyal to a fault for Bucky Barnes. Would you so easily leave your friends to join them?

“She empathises with our cause. She said so herself.” Dovich added in finality, hoping that Karli could be convinced.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.”

-------------------------//---------------------------

Your head was spinning from earlier events and you came back to the common room once you had a quick shut-eye upstairs. You could hear Bucky and Sam bantering about the same old topic on Steve’s shield.

You also heard Bucky’s comments about Walker and shook your head in disbelief at how inherently frustrating the man was. What could have been a successful peace talk with Karli was ruined by his brashness to display his authority.

The door burst open behind you and you looked over to see John coming in with Lemar, demanding for all of you to turn Zemo in. Sam took charge of the situation and put John in his place, stating he had been nothing but a thwart in your plans.

John being the arrogant pick he was tried to size up Sam, mocking him by saying he could put down the shield to make it fair for the both of them. You were fuming with the blatant disrespect that John was showing.

Before you could take another step, a familiar spear swooped in and lodged itself in the pillar near John. The familiar sounds of metal clanging let you know who was arriving and you saw familiar Dora Milajae members walking into the room.

Understanding the Wakandan words that were being spoken, you knew the Dora Milajae were here for Zemo.

John being the arrogant prick that he was, was proud to introduce himself as Captain America. An awkward silence ensued when they didn’t return a response. Sam tried to help John out by advising him that he should be careful to step on the Dora Milajae’s toes.

Ignoring Sam’s words, John went on to tell the Dora Milajae that they had no jurisdictions it had little effect when Ayo refuted his claims. Seeing John scoff before taking a step towards Ayo to place his hand on her shoulder, you immediately winced once Ayo swiftly knocked John down in three moves.

The scene in front of you unfolded quickly as John were quick to fight against the Dora Milajae and Lemar even stepped in to help his partner out. Seeing how the two men were hopelessly struggling with the warriors caused you to cringe in embarrassment.

“We should do something,” Sam said as he had the same sentiments as you.

“Looking strong, John.” Bucky commentated sarcastically with his arms crossed as if he was fine with how things were.

“Bucky….” Sam said in a nagging tone, as if Bucky was a child who did not want to do his chores. You looked over to give him a nod to say that Bucky should indeed step in before John really gets pummelled.

“Ayo, let’s talk about this”. Bucky stepped forward to intervene. Looking to the side, you saw one of the Dora aiming to give Lemar a blow before Sam stepped in. She managed to knock Sam down onto the couch and you knew it was your chance to step up.

You refused to use your powers with the Doras so you held your hands up to negotiate with them.

“Spare him, please.” You pleaded on Lemar’s behalf. The Dora withheld her weapon as she looked over you, recognising you from your Wakandan days. She left you

A sound of metal dropping caught your attention as you saw Bucky’s arm falling limply on the ground. His astonished expression accompanied by pain at Ayo’s disarm of his arm also brought you a shock.

In the midst of the chaos, you found that Zemo had disappeared. Ayo went to open the bathroom door and checked the room. She stated that Zemo was gone.

Ayo stated that their business was finished here and they would take their leave first. You helped Lemar up before walking over to Bucky who picked up his vibranium arm in disbelief.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked and Bucky shook his head in response. You bit your lips as you weren’t sure what to say.

In an attempt to comfort him, you reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze. Bucky was glad that your previous enmity towards him seemed to be gone and your interactions seemed to be back to normal.

“They were not even super soldiers.” Hearing John’s dismay at his utter defeat, you almost felt bad for him. Sam gave him a once over as John stood up, acting he was fine before leaving with Lemar.

The three of you left couldn’t believe Zemo made his grand escape even with all of you in the room.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The three of you were making your way out in search of Zemo until Sam received a call from his sister. Apparently, Karli called Sarah as a strong message to Sam. Karli threatened to involve Sam’s nephews if Sam didn’t do as she said.

Your head shook in disbelief, you believed Karli to be different. To hear that she was pulling such a tactic changed your initial opinion of her. Sam received a message to meet her alone but you and Bucky wouldn’t let him go in alone.

Once the three of you suited up, you all made your way to the location. Entering the open plaza in the building, Sam called for Karli and you saw her head popped into view. You all made your way to her level.

You let Sam approached her while Bucky and you put yourselves at the side. Sam called her out for trying to involve his family but Karli replied that she would never harm them. Her eyes moved to where you and Bucky stood, noting aloud that Sam didn’t come alone as intended.

Karli reiterated that she never wanted to hurt Sam and that he was just a tool in the regimes she vowed to destroy. Killing Sam would be meaningless to her.

“I was gonna ask you to join me. And maybe Y/N back there. Dovich has spoken highly of you.” Seeing your eyes widened in surprise at the offer, Karli smirked before continuing.

“You could do better than them. You would be welcomed and appreciated within our circle. I know of your loss, your grief with the rest of your original team gone. You can find purpose with us.” You stepped forward as if her words were drawing you in.

Sam and Bucky were at a sudden loss at your movement. They didn’t think you would even process Karli’s proposal and were curious to know what you were about to do.

“Karli, I resonate with your cause.” Your words took your friends by surprise. Were you really going to switch sides?

“But I don’t approve of what you did back at the depot. I thought better of you.” You expressed your stance on the matter. Karli scoffed before giving her reply. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your approval.”

“Shedding blood is never an option for me.” You stood your ground firmly.

“Fine, I admit my mistake. If you join us, I will make sure there would not be lives cost.” Karli tried to coat her words in favour of you.

She knew that she would do whatever was necessary for her to achieve her goals and even if it were to pretend to pander to your moral values, she was willing to give it a try if it meant she could have you switch sides.

Seeing your conflicted dilemma, Karli egged on. “Is it because of him?” She nodded back to Bucky. You looked over your shoulder to see him equally You looked at her with a perplexed look before she smirked once more.

“I read up about you. You came into his defence when he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. You revealed your powers publicly and that got you thrown into the raft. Ever since he has been pardoned, you had been with him all this time.” You didn’t know where Karli was going with this but her next sentence finally made you understood.

“This only means one thing. You like him, don’t you? He’s the one holding you back.”

“No! What are you talking about?” You spoke through gritted teeth at how she chose to play this out. How could she expose you like this? Your ears burned with embarrassment at the revelation that stunned both Sam and Bucky.

What was Karli implying exactly? Bucky looked over to see you visibly shaking in anger and he was taken aback by how Karli’s words affected you.

“Even now, I see the way you are looking at him. At how angry you are now? You mad that your secret crush is out in the open?” You looked up to see Karli’s smug face and you controlled your energy from bursting through your hands.

“Stop your bullshit. Don’t act like you know me!”

“Please, I am letting you know that he is not worth it. You would do so much better for yourself if you join our cause.” Karli retorted and you hated how she acted like she knew what was best for you when she barely knew her.

Sam always had an inkling that there could be more from your relationship with Bucky but he kept silent on the matter out of respect. He knew that it was best to leave you figuring things out on your own.

He recalled how he had caught you and Bucky in an intimate moment back in the club at Madripoor and figured you two were more than it seemed on a friendship level.

Seeing Karli use such an approach to almost taunting you in the context of persuasion didn’t sit well with him. His inner big brother wanted to come out to defend you.

Meanwhile, Bucky was appalled to learn of everything from your exchange with Karli. Was it possible that you had liked him all this while?

When he talked to you about Madripoor earlier, he remembered your pained expression when he tried to void what happened between the two of you.

Was it because you were hurt by his denial? He must have sounded like the world’s biggest jerk. If you really liked him, he would imagine you being heartbroken from what he had said.

“He is worth everything.” Your very statement made Bucky looked back up in shock. No way would he ever thought you would like him in that way. He thought you were just being the kind-hearted and empathetic person that you always are to follow a guy like him.

Quick flashbacks came to him as he realized that you had always been by his side from breaking free of HYDRA to being on the run, following the Avengers civil war, his time in Wakanda, the fight with Thanos, Steve's leaving, his pardon after the Blip and up to now.

It dawned upon Bucky that he had taken you for granted. If you were gone right now, he could only imagine that he would possibly go the deep end.

“He is the most important person in my life and you don’t get to talk about him like that when you don’t even know him.” You asserted with renewed confidence. You figured while this situation wasn't ideal, it was the moment you had to tell your truth.

Looking back, you met Bucky with a small smile.

Bucky’s heart soared at what you had just said. To be regarded as your most important person was the thing that he never knew he needed.

You knew that your words inadvertently had answered the pressing question on Bucky’s mind. Karli knew she had failed to get to you after the answer and decided to lose her shot with you.

You hear Sam picking up something on his comms, stating that it was Walker. Karli was alerted and decided to make a move first. Bucky immediately jumped off as soon as he saw Karli doing the same.

You lifted yourself off and saw Sam knocking Karli over before he turned to Bucky, telling him that he would send him the location. You didn’t have time to say anything to Bucky, he only gave you a look of understanding before you both knew that there were more pressing matters at hand.

Sam nodded to you before you did the same and you followed him as he took off.

-------------------------//---------------------------

You sent a blast towards the glass ceiling before you and Sam landed in the building. A crash was heard next when you recognised Dovich to be the one that was crashing. You looked to see John walking into view and your mind scrambled to analyse what was going on.

Dovich went ahead to use a metal pipe against John, but John pushed back and even bent the pipe into half like a rubber hose.

“Oh shit,” Dovich uttered before John sent him flying to where you stood. As Dovich looked up at you, you eyed him to go and heard Sam speak up.

“What did you do?” John didn’t answer the question and informed that the Flag Smashers had Lemar. Growing a soft spot despite your brief interaction, your heart dropped when you realised that Lemar was in danger.

John went ahead first before Sam followed behind. You placed your hand on Sam’s arm to pause for a moment, looking at Sam anxiously.

“Sam, I think he took one of the serums.” He nodded grimly at your words, indicating that he shared the thought too.

The two of you followed John where you were all ambushed by a member of the Flag Smashers. All of you tried to fend yourselves and you soon see Bucky joining the scene.

You were met face to face with Dovich. You gave him a look that said you were reluctant but had no choice to fight him.

He took you on and you tried your best to avoid his quick moves. You shot multiple non-fatal blasts at him to knock him over. He was doing his best to keep up with the speed at which you were throwing your blasts.

In the next split second, you sent two direct blasts to his chest that knocked the wind out of his chest. The following moment, you heard a loud collision and you looked to see Lemar crashed against a stone pillar.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you realised what had just happened. Lemar’s head fell slightly as you saw him lost consciousness. John immediately walked over to his partner and repeatedly tap him to wake him up.

You swallowed heavily as seconds passed and Lemar had no reaction. John called Lemar’s name over and over to no avail. You see John looking back his shoulder and directing his line of sight on you.

“Do something!” He cried out to you. You were at a loss for words as you didn’t know what he wanted you to do. You looked over to see Sam and Bucky equally stunned at what had occurred.

“I read your file. You brought someone back to life before!” You knew what John was referring to but you didn’t know if it could even work.

“I can’t, my powers don’t work like that-” Your powers came from your life force so you were able to transfer it to someone to regain theirs. However, you only did it once and it was because someone was dying of hypothermia. It was a different situation from Lemar’s.

“Please! I’m begging you! He’s everything to me!” John’s desperate plea touched you, knowing that he had said similar words to what you had said before about Bucky. You understood his plight and made quick steps to where he was.

Everyone looked upon the scene as you crouched down to your knees. You gave John a wary look before you brought your hands to Lemar who was lying in John’s arms.

Summoning your energy into your palms, you placed them on Lemar’s chest as if you were using a defibrillator. You pumped several sets of energy into Lemar while John patted him for a reaction.

When Lemar still showed no signs of life, the look of defeat on John’s face broke your heart. Tears start welling in your eyes as you looked at Lemar’s lifeless body. You saw Karli and her group starting to make a run for it.

Sam and Bucky made a chase for her immediately. John handed Lemar over to you before he sprinted for the window in front of you.

You could see the look of vengeance on his face and knew it didn’t bode well. You gently laid Lemar on the ground before waving your hand with your energy flames and placed it on where his heart was.

Rest in peace.

Your energy flames dissipated into his uniform and you stood up to follow behind John. You managed to catch him chasing after one of the Flag Smashers ahead of you. He was throwing his shield with brute force to knock the guy on his feet. You saw how the man was pleading for his life, claiming that he was not the one who killed Lemar.

John placed a foot to hold the man who was flailing his arms desperately. In a blink of an eye, he brought down the very shield that was used to protect people onto the man.

“NOOOOOOO!” You cried out in an attempt for John to stop his actions but it was too late.

Your eyes widened in unbelievable shock at what just transpired. When John lifted up the shield, you saw the blood that stained the legacy of the shield- Steve’s legacy.

You turned to see that a crowd was formed and people held out their phones to record what had happened. It didn’t sit well with you to know that in a matter of seconds, the whole world would also be watching this horrific scene too.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 10)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1669

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff and SMUT (18+, NSFW)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist       Divider by @firefly-graphics

As the months went by, the relationship between Steve, Bucky, and yourself became more and more solid. You talked about the future, made plans, and worked through the few issues that had arisen. There had been missions and you had become an integral part of the team. You were happy. You had a job you loved, two men you loved, a home, and a family in your team. It was idyllic. Which terrified you at times. When the fear began to overwhelm you, Bucky and Steve were there for you. They let you express your fears and helped you through them. 

You were gearing up for a mission to take out a large Hydra base that had been recently discovered. The intel on its existence was solid even though what was going on there was a mystery. Some information had been gleaned through surveillance but it was mostly pictures of  objects with an alien language. Thor and Loki were expected to arrive today to help and give some information on what these items could be. 

The team was awaiting their arrival in the conference room except Steve and Tony who were greeting them. You were going over mission details and making tactical plans with the available information.

“So, what are Thor and Loki like?” You ask the group in general. 

“Thor’s a good guy. Nice. A little terse at times. Intense.” Bruce replies.  

“What about Loki?” You look at Bruce. 

“He’s a bag of cats. He’s trying to be… different. Better, I guess. That’s why he’s coming. Thor is trusting him. I guess we’ll have to try, too.” Bruce shrugs as Natasha scoffs. 

“Be careful around Loki. There’s a reason he’s the god of mischief.” Natasha warns.

“Noted.” You say just as they walk in. You immediately smile when you catch Steve’s eye but turn your attention to the two Asgardians as they enter. Steve makes introductions as Tony pulls up the intel photos for the two gods. 

“This looks to be Kree.” Thor states. 

“It is.” Loki confirms as he swipes through the photos. 

“Kree?” You say bringing Thor’s attention to you.

“Yes. They-”

“Created Inhumans.” 

“Yes. You are familiar with the Inhumans?” Thor asks. 

“I am an Inhuman.” You watch the two for any reaction. 

“Ah, a fellow abomination.” Loki grins. “What are your powers?”

You stare Loki down for a moment. Interpreting no malice in his remarks, you reply, “Warging, understanding of all vocal communication, increased strength and stamina.”

“Interesting.” Loki narrows his eyes.

“Warging?” Thor asks and you give him a brief explanation. 

Going back to the available information, the team gleans all it can to formulate a plan. Afterwards, everyone moves to the common room to relax while Tony has a meal brought in. 

“Loki has been watching you the entire time we’ve been in here.” Natasha murmurs to you. 

“Novelty, I guess.” You shrug. 

“Maybe so. Are you okay?” 

“Just have a headache all of a sudden.” You say. 

“Want me to get you something?”

“No, I’ll-mmph! Ow. It feels like an icepick in my head.” You say. 

Natasha’s eyes widen and her head snaps up, “Loki, stop!”

You make eye contact with the god and feel another stab of pain. Realizing he is trying to get in your head, you push back at the feeling. 

“What are you doing, brother?” Thor grabs his arm. 

“I just wanted to see how far her capabilities went, brother. She began fighting me. Strong, this one.” Loki smirks. 

“Keep your mind games to yourself, Loki!” Steve growls. 

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Try.”

“What?” Steve turns to you with a stern look. 

“I want to see if he can. I can’t know how far my abilities go if I don’t push them. Most of my powers have to do with my senses. I’m just curious.” You shrug.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Bucky warns. “It was obviously causing you pain.”

“It’s not a big deal. Will you try again, Loki?” You ask. 

“At your service, darling.” Loki grins and concentrates on you again. Your head aches almost immediately and the sharp stabbing pain returns but you fight back against it. Using the same thought process you use when warging you concentrate on Loki, pushing back against his mental invasion. The pain in your head increases the more you fight back but you aren’t willing to stop. You feel a surge from Loki and automatically push back at him with a mental force that suddenly turns your eyes green as the god’s and you realize you have entered his mind. Intense pain spikes through you bringing you to your knees as you grab the sides of your head. A scream tears from your throat before you black out. 

You wake in Bucky’s arms as he takes quick strides towards the elevator. 

“Bucky. I’m okay.” You say. 

“You passed out. You aren’t okay.” Bucky says firmly. 

“We’re just going to take you to get checked out, sweetheart.” Steve says from right beside you. 

“No, I’m fine. Put me down.” You squirm in Bucky’s arms. 

“Doll-” “Sweetheart-”

“Down! Now!” You all but shout. Bucky reluctantly lowers you to the floor and you stand, holding his shoulder for support. “Well, that was new.”

“What did Loki do to you?” Steve growls.

“I only did as she asked.” Loki defends himself. “She managed to fight my attempts. It was quite impressive. Not many can keep me out of their mind as she did. And then, she slipped into my mind. It probably overwhelmed her as she’s not used to such an exertion.”

“Agreed.” You say. “I’ve never been able to do that with a human before.”

“You were probably able to because I have to open my mind in order to reach out. That was admirable.” Loki says. 

“Uh, thanks?” You laugh lightly. 

“Did you see anything?” Loki asks with eyes narrowed.

“It was pretty jumbled.” You admit.

“That’s normal for a first timer. Come, let’s discuss our little experiment.” Loki wraps your hand around his arm and guides you away from your two supersoldiers who glare at Loki as the two of you sit on the loveseat. When dinner is ready, you sit at the table between Bucky and Steve. Loki is seated across from you with Thor next to him and the table is jovial as everyone enjoys the company and food. You notice that Loki retreats into himself during the meal. As soon as the meal is over, you approach Loki again to ask more questions about his abilities. Everyone drifts into the common room while you and Loki sit at one end of the table and talk. He has a great deal of knowledge regarding the Kree, Inhumans, and different abilities. You learn more in two hours than you had in the six months with your Inhuman team. 

“Hey Doll. We’re heading to the room.” Bucky approaches to say. 

“Okay, Love. I’ll be there shortly.” You smile up at him as he leans down to plant a quick kiss on your lips. 

Loki watches as Bucky leaves with a smirk, “So, you and Sergeant Bar-”

“Sweetheart, you coming to bed?” Steve interrupts. 

“Soon, Babe. Loki is giving me some history on the Kree.” 

Steve eyes Loki for a moment before leaning down to kiss you possessively “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” You smile at him as he leaves. Turning back to Loki, it’s your turn to smirk, “Yes, Me and Bucky and Steve.”

“That was unexpected.” Loki raises an eyebrow. 

“I imagine not much surprises you.” You laugh.

“Very little.” Loki says. 

“You know, I was prepared to hate you but… you aren’t exactly what I was expecting.” 

“I was under the influence of other entities during the Battle of New York. It spoke to the basest part of me. I know I’ll never fully make up for it but I’m hopeful I can do some good to set it to rights.” 

“I’m sure you will. Do some good, that is. I should head to bed. Good night, Loki.”

“Good night.” Loki nods his head and joins his brother. 

You were impressed with him. Truthfully, you had planned on hating him. After all, he had killed Coulson but when you had slipped into his mind you had felt his remorse. You were honest when you told him that everything was jumbled. The memories and images that came through had been but his feelings had been loud and clear. Inferiority, remorse, contrition, fear, and hope had suffused you when your minds were joined. It had softened you towards him and you hoped that he could find some corner of redemption in all of this. 

When you get to the bedroom, you pause a minute to smile at Steve and Bucky cuddled up together in the bed. 

“Come join us, pretty girl.” Steve beckons. 

“What were you and Loki talking about that kept you so enthralled?” Bucky groused. 

“Careful, Buck. You almost sound jealous.” You laugh. “We were talking about the Kree and inhumans and different abilities. I learned a good bit from him. Loki offered to bring some information and writings when he comes again.”

“He doesn’t usually talk to any of us much when he’s around.” Steve says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Usually all we get out of him is sly remarks.” Bucky says. 

“Huh. Probably a defense mechanism. He feels he has a lot to make up for and know no one really likes him.” You offer.

“How did you find that out?” Steve asks.

“When we did the Vulcan mindmeld. I could feel what he was feeling more than anything else. It told quite the story in and of itself.”

“Loki is a master manipulator.” Steve warns.

“I understand.” You reassure them. “And we leave for mission tomorrow for who knows how long. Is there anything you'd like to do before that happens?”

“Yeah.” “Definitely.” They speak at the same time. 

“What would that be?” You ask. 

“You.” They say in unison.

Part 11

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Permanent: @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld @bugsbucky @chrisevanscardigan​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @palaiasaurus64​ @rebekahdawkins @tllynn15​ @learisa​ @jelly-fishy-babie​ @fistmebuckyskywalker @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @liebs82​ @stuckyslutt​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @baddie-barnes​ @aikeia​ @daddysdumbsweaterwearingtart​ @marvelgirl7​ @starlightcrystalline​ @xxloki81xx​ @kcd15​ @slytherinambitious​ @sallycanwait68​ @slytherdorxmd​ @fangirlforever2412​ @rainbowkisses31​ @whisperlullaby​ @thejemersoninferno​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @supraveng​ @dispatchvampire​ @juenenfeu​ @sxbby-barnes​ @allonszassbutt​ @y-napotat​ @is-it-madness​ @harold231​ @buckysbaby32​ @purselover2​ @ene-rene​ @chrisevansbaby​ @mrsbarnes-rogers​ @sarahp879​ @rosesanchez12298806​ @xxpapasfritasxx​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @softie-socks​ @bestofbucky​ @bella-bear03​ @randomfandompenguin​ @jjsoccer11​ @hiddles-rose​ @courtneychicken​ @pureromancebykaci​ @awaywithtime​ @automatic-tragedy​ @ximebebx​ @magnoliamermaid​ @milkymil-k​ @get-me-some-chai-bitch​ @freckleblaze​ @angrythingstarlight​ @unknownmystery22​ @buckysnumberonegirl​ @buckyfan12​

Terrigenisis: @dark-night-sky-99​ @amiets2​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @tite-rose @teenwolfgirl90 @jennmurawski13 @captain-asguard​ @the-soulofdevil​ @redbarn1995

Updates and taglist: My taglist is currently closed. Updates for series will be made on Thursdays and Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[viking-raider]

A Raw Heart - *Sensitive! READ THE WARNINGS!*

Summary: You tell Henry about the worst tragedy in your life.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 1,863

Rating: Mature -  Serious Angst, Tragedy, Anguish, Grief, Loss, Death, Hurt/Comfort, Possible triggers

Inspiration: I’ve thought about this story for a long time, and it’s a bit personal.

Author’s Note: Read the Warnings!

You and Henry had been seeing each other for several months, having met at the auditions for Night Hunter. It was the first time Henry had been in your place, over for a nice night in, you left him in your living room long enough to get you both some wine. While you did that, Henry looked around, peeking at stuff, but not invading your privacy, checking out the books you had on your shelves and the photos you had on display around.

He noticed a small Russian doll-like thing on one of your shelves and picked it up, admiring it.

“Henry.” You called, standing on the other side of the room from him, stiff as a board. “Put it down.” You almost hissed at him. “Don't touch it.” You told him, trembling and your voice unsteady. “Please.” You added, your throat tight and tears threatening.

“I'm sorry.” Henry squeaked, putting it back where it was on the shelf. “I was just admiring it. It's really beautiful.” He babbled, nervously. “Where did you get it?” He asked, looking over at you and was caught off guard by the tears dripping down your face.

“It's my son.” You mumbled, struggling to gulp down your tears and emotions.

Henry blinked and his whole body jerked, shocked by your words. “What?” He pushed out, his own throat tight.

“Oh god.” You mewled, realizing what you had said. “Please, leave.” You whimpered, then rushed down the hall to your room, slamming the door behind you and barreling into your bathroom, to drop to your knees in front of the toilet bowl, wrenching violently into it.

Henry carefully opened your bedroom door, hearing your dry heaves, and followed the sound of it. “Hey.” He whispered, kneeling beside you and rubbing your back, his face showing his deep concern for you.

“I as-asked you t-to leave.” You wheezed, panting into the bowl, your heavy tears dripping into it.

“I know you did.” Henry sighed, still rubbing your back in a reassuring way. “But, I can't just leave you like this.” He said, getting up and finding a wash cloth hanging on the towel rack and ran it under the sink faucet. “I never meant to upset you.” He whispered, gently wiping the cool cloth over your temples, forehead and cheeks, even pressing it to the back of your neck for a moment.

“You didn't know.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Only a few people know what that is.”

Henry gulped, a pit in his stomach and bit his lip for a moment. “You said...” He took a deep breath. “You said, it was your son.” He said, chewing his bottom lip to bits.

“I did.” You whimpered, sitting down and pressing your back to the side of the cold tub. “When I was twenty, I was dating a guy, but we broke it off. Two months later, I found out I was pregnant with his baby. I told him and he wanted nothing to do with me, or the baby. Shocker of the century.” You chuckled, but whined at how sore your throat was.

“What happened?” Henry frowned, resting back against the vanity, and drawing his knees up.

“Well, I had the usual three options.” You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Have the baby and give it up for adopting, keep him or the other option.” You said, glancing at him for a moment, to get the point across. “I wasn't going to the latter thing, wasn't something I could live with. So, over the next eight and a half months, I tossed back and forth between adoption or keeping him. I thought, just before labor happened, that I was going to put him up for adoption. I was twenty, still living at home and had a shit job. What life could I give him, a struggling mother and an absent father.”

You paused for a moment, lost in a memory.

“But, when I finally gave birth to him, and I saw him in all his bloody, messy and screaming glory, I was enamored by him. He was beautiful and perfect, but importantly, he was mine. My son. I made him.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “With a little help, I suppose. But, I made him, with my body, my blood and flesh, inside me for months. It was like, I already knew him and he already knew me.”

“Pals for the ages.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks, as you recalled his little face, the warmth and weight of his teeny body in your arms, his smooth and downy skin against your chest. Hearing him coo at you, just before he latched onto your breast and fed, or how he squirmed as you bathed him. You would stay awake for hours, not caring how absolutely wrecked and exhausted you were from the day, to watch him sleep in the little cradle that attached you to the side of your bed. Remembering the first time he laughed, you blew a raspberry on his tummy as you changed his pamper and he became hysterical, filling your ears with that absolutely magical baby laugh, that no matter how horrible your day was going and how shitty you felt, you couldn't help but laugh along too; blowing more and more raspberries against his squirmy body and flailing arms and legs, his face bright with a face splitting grin.

“What happened?” Henry whispered, his voice weak and stomach clenching.

You choked suddenly as the horrible memory strangled you, like it had over the long years. “My boss made me work late one night, so I left him with my mother, she babysat him all the time, he was her first grand-baby and she was almost as wild about him as I was. I was a few hours into my shift, when my mom called, and I knew, instantly, something was wrong. She always called me before she put him to sleep, so I could talk to him and hear his little noises; and she had already done that.”

“Two hours before.”

“She had gone into check on him, and..” You froze, your breathing faltering and gripped the rug beneath you, tearing at it as your grief slammed into you. “He wasn't breathing and wouldn't respond. She called medical services, then called me, while they tried to save him.”

Henry's chin hit his chest, a tight bubble of grief in him. “I'm so sorry.” He whimpered, crushed for you, realizing what he had picked up was indeed your son, his urn. “I'm sorry.” He choked, moving over to you and hugging you against his body, letting you sob into his chest, soaking his shirt with your anguished tears, your heart splitting wails crushing him, like a factory of bricks.

“My boy.” You howled, clinging onto Henry, twisting your hands up in the back of his sweater. “My baby boy.”

“I know.” Henry choked and held you tight, tears dripping from his scruffy jaw and into your hair, rocking both of you. “I know, love. I know.”

“I miss him, Henry.” You sighed and sniffled, looking up at him. “I miss him, with every fiber of my soul and life.”

Henry smiled softly at you, brushing your hair out of your face. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do. But, he's still with you. He will always be with you, darling. In your heart and in your soul. Because you made him, with your body, your blood and your flesh, inside of you for months, and he's still in your body, blood and flesh, here and now, forever and always.” He told you, cupping your face in his shaking hands.

“Nothing and no one can ever take that, or him, from you. Even if he's not here with you, physically.”

You looked into Henry's baby blue, bloody shot and teary eyes, sucking your wobbling lip between your teeth, chin shaking as your body was wracked with a wave of new tears and emotions. No one had ever said something like that to you before. Everyone that knew about your son told you to move on, that the pain would pass and lessen, but it only grew worse over the years. Missing out on his first tooth coming in or losing one and sneaking money under his pillow for the tooth fairy, his first steps and word. His first day of school, his first crush on someone, watching him grow tall and do some many things you saw other kids doing. Your mother even suggested finding a guy and having another kid, but that thought horrified you, afraid that the same thing would happen all over again.

But, Henry's words had instilled something in your sore and cracked heart, like putting a plaster on it. He was right, your son might not be here physically anymore, but you had created him with your own body, nestled in your womb, his DNA was yours and it was still alive, so he was still alive, in that way.

“His name,” You said softly, letting go of your trembling lip. “was Julian.”

Henry smiled at you. “It's a beautiful name.” He replied, gently.

It was then, that it struck you, something you had only just realized as you shared a devastating, raw and such a personal moment that you have never shared with anyone else, or even talked about with the people that did, that you tried to avoid thinking about. You had freely given Henry the information about Julian, you had never told any of the guys you previously saw or dated, a few asked about the small, silver and blue urn, but you always changed the subject.

Why had you told Henry about him, so freely, letting down all the thick walls you had built around yourself over the years? You had known him for two months and been only four or five dates, but you felt safe with him; loved, understood and listened to.

Henry wrapped his arms around you and stood you both back up, guiding you back into the living room, sitting you down on the couch, then went into the kitchen, finding two glasses and two bottles of wine on the kitchen counter, obviously you had come into the living room as he picked up Julian's urn to ask which bottle he wanted. He just grabbed one, pulled the cork out of the neck and poured you both a glass, before bringing it out to you; sitting on the couch with you tucked into his warm and protective side. Neither of you said anything, sitting quietly on the couch, sipping your glasses of wine, in silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice still hoarse from all your crying. “I've been hanging onto that for so long.”

“Of course.” He whispered back, gently kissing your temple. “I'll always be here, if you need to talk it out, or cry it out.” He told you, giving you a tender expression, before hugging you snugly.

[plush-rabbit]

Hand In Unlovable Hand

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: it’s his birthday and what kind of stan would i be if i put nothing out, love ya lots bbs (slight mention of dadgiri because i love him)

-

It’s a day Tomura doesn’t want to recall. If he were to be honest to himself, he doesn’t think he’s ever remembered a good birthday for himself. A part of him even thinks that this day is all a lie told by Sensei, that his birthday is just another false, the day that he was reborn as Tomura Shigaraki, the day that Tenko Shimura had died. The thought leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t want to think that- he wants to believe that there was a moment of truth, of some twisted care that he allowed the young boy he found alone and scared to keep his day of birth. 

Even as a young boy- before everything bad happened and was taken from him, before he was truly and utterly alone- he doesn’t think he ever had the proper birthday that was advertised on television. He can recall blurry memories of cake- a pale color with white colored frosting- the flickering glow of the candle and the singing that was happy, the balloons that were tied to chairs and the too tight elastic that was digging into his skin. He can remember his father, the hand, once heavy and overbearing, touching his back oh so softly, fingers that curved over his young shoulders the tight smile that he gave him as a child as he blew out the candles. As a boy, he relished the touch, fell asleep with his hand covering the same shoulder, tears in his eyes as he thought that it might be different now, that maybe the house that his father built wasn’t going to be so wretched. But now, his jaw tightens and there’s a lump in his throat. He’ll never admit the emotions that swirl in his aching body.

Even with Sensei, he never had a true birthday. It was gifts given to him but only after he had done something that was worthy. Even then the gifts were given to him when he was older, when the memories had faded, when the growing intensity for- for something to happen had finally boiled over. The most he ever had that resembled a present was when Kurogiri would bring in a simple cupcake- a light colored brown topped with blue frosting, little shapes of stars acting as sprinkles decorating the singular treat. It was a small gift from the older man. It was something that Tomura doesn’t even realize how much he enjoyed now that the tradition was broken.

He lays his head on your lap, body curled and eyes facing towards your stomach, an arm bent underneath his head, fingers curled into his soft colored hair, while the other hovers over his bare forearm, his pinky grazing above your thigh and he simply lies silent above you. He could fall asleep, he’s sure you think he’s already asleep. He’s been silent for so long, still and breathing deeply, never muttering a single word- not even when your legs begin to shake under him. He wonders if you’re cold. He shifts, inching closer to you until the tip of his nose is millimeters away from your stomach. It’s safe with you. He feels safe with you. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything for your birthday?” You ask softly, your hand coming to the side of his head, fingers curving over him, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. 

“Villain, remember,” he reminds you immediately. He regrets having you learn his birthday. It’s not the fact that you want to do something with him, it’s the fact that you want to do something for him. You actually want to celebrate a day around him, you want to give him a gift, you want for him to be given something without something given to you in return. Your hand pauses in the massaging of his scalp and he swallows the lump in his throat. “I just want to be here with you right now.” He doesn’t want you to leave him. He doesn’t want the thought of you walking away stuck in his mind. He wants you in front of him, he wants you below him- stationary and there. 

“Me going to the convenience store isn’t a death sentence, you know.” He can hear the smile in your voice, the lilt at the end of your sentence. His eyes widen ever so slightly. He hates knowing that you know his fears. “I can pick up a few things, come back and we can watch a movie.”

A date. The same date that you both have had for the past odd time that you’ve been together. How long has it been? Time has been so muddled, that he can't even remember. Is this a hint to change up the repetitive dates? To have something different happen for a change? 

“On what?” He decides to humor you for a second, to let the emotions that cling onto his body like claws lessen. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a streaming service and you’re too cheap to get one.” Your hand swats lightly at his head and a smile stretches across his face. “Ouch,” he says in scoff.

“I have things to do other than pay for streaming sites.” In the corner of his eye, he sees your hand wave through the air in a circular motion. “Plus, there’s always those sites where you don’t have to pay.” He can hear the giddiness in your voice, your hand interlocking into his hair, the strands spilling between the slits of your fingers.

“Look at that,” he coos out, “I’ve corrupted you.” You laugh and it’s loud and vibrant, your body shaking and it’s joyous laughter that fills the room. His mouth is dry and he wants to kiss you.

“I’ve been corrupted long ago,” you say in a dying laugh, your hand returning to it’s movements as you scratch his scalp. “Maybe there will be hot moms nearby. I’m sure they would be willing to do something for their birthdays.” His eyes turn softer, almost pained as he stares at your stomach. He grunts in response and the pulsing beat in his wrist is echoed into his ear- loud and invasive, it’s never ending, a rhythm that keeps him feeling as if he’ll go insane and grounded all at once. 

It’s silent once more and this time Tomura hates it. His hair falls across his neck, tickling at the sensitive, scarred skin, riddled with patches that ache and scabs that have dried, blood that is dirty and sticks to his skin. You keep your momentum, scratching at his scalp, twirling his hair in the air, letting it fall back into the pale nest of hair. 

“What’s with your obsession with birthdays?” His tongue peeks out and licks at his lips. The question breaks through the silence and your hand pauses, letting the soft strands of hair slip past your fingers and cascade down back onto his head. “I’m fine just being here.” 

Your hands come to rest on his bicep. You’re still, the shaking of your leg coming to a sudden stop and he lays still on you. He lays on your lap, your hands on his body, the scent of your cream light on his nose- vanilla and honey, a scent sweet and forgiving, something he would have never had the privilege of smelling if it weren’t for you. He wants to bury himself into your shoulder and clasp his hands around you, pull you close until he tires of you and the vanilla and honey. 

You’re slow to speak again. Your words coming out in clicks of your tongue, hesitant and unsure. He wishes he had the strength to rise from your lap and walk away. He knows that you would chase after him, that you beg for him to talk to you, that you would ask for forgiveness. He knows you better than you’ll ever know yourself and you know him better than he’ll ever know himself and that’s the sick part of it all. He knows that you’ll promise to never bring it up again, to clutch his broken hand and kiss at the spots where his skin pulls taut against each other, a hand that had never properly healed. He knows that whatever you promise, he’ll nod his head and wrap his arms around you, he’ll keep you close as he always has, he’ll beg for your touch and lean into it like a starved person, he’ll stare at you until his eyelids grow heavy. He would drink a harsh, bitter liquid that burns his throat and reek of all that is sin, and kneel before you, bury his head into your chest and leave it stained with tears. 

Tomura Shigaraki hates himself and he hates that he doesn’t hate you. 

He stares at your stomach and closes his eyes. “I just want to give you something that you’ll like.” Your fingers pitter-patter against his skin.

“I like you,” he’s quick to say. He opens his eyes and he suddenly has the strength to pull away from you. He can feel your eyes on him as he sits beside you, feet planted on the floor, back towards you, hunched over as his hands dangle between his spread legs. His arms tingle like television static, it hurts in everything painful and everything ticklish. He shrugs and his eyes feel heavy with exhaustion. “You’re enough.” You’re more than enough but telling you that would make acid rise into his throat and emotions leak down the curve of his face. He’d cling to you like a child, stain you with everything that he is.

Your knees come into the corner of his eyes. There’s a pale scar at your knee, something from long ago. He likes remembering that you aren’t something from his imagination, that you are real, that you’re a person who exists, who cares for him and wants him to touch your body that he believes to be so good. He wants to keep you real, to never have you be a memory, to never have to worry about you being a dream that he’ll have to wake up from. He wants to be real and he wants to hold your hand in his. 

Your hand curves around his shoulder, your fingers dancing along the soft fabric of the shirt and he narrows his eyes. You touch him and it’s never rough, never intertwined with malice. “I like you too, Tomura.” There’s a swirling dance in his stomach, a remembrance that he isn’t some scarred demon, that he isn’t simply a pawn, that he is a person who is allowed to feel no matter how sickening the emotions are. He turns his head away from you and stares at the floor, a tile that is cracked seems to mock at him. “I want to give you something for your birthday- or do depending how you look at it, I guess- because I care for you. I think you should still have something given to you for your birthday and if I had known earlier, then I would have given you a gift already and you’d be enjoying it.” Your hand slips from his shoulder and he is cold. It curves around his thigh and he forces himself to look back at you with steady eyes. You smile softly at him and he envies the person who you are- the lover, the giver and all that is good. He wants to be held in your arms, to be pulled close and have a cake brought to him decorated in candles and have a song sung to him out of harmony. He bites his tongue. “If I have to be honest, I’m surprised none of the League had planned something for you.” Your eyes narrow playfully and your lips pull into a teasing smirk. “Did you tell them the wrong date?” 

“No,” he breathes out. “I asked them not to do anything-” his eyes dart back to the floor- “I didn’t want you to be dragged into their antics.” You nod slowly and your hand lifts his thigh. He’s quick to grab it, turning his head slightly, holding your hand in his, lowering it back into place. “I wanted to spend the day with you.” 

“Is that so?” You ask in a whisper, inching closer to him, knees bumping into each other and despite the previous intimacy that has occurred between the two of you, the hands that held each other, the lips that have crushed against skin so scarred and soft, the hands that lingered too long, too desperately to be anything more than pure longing, the simple touch of the knee makes heat rise in his body. “Gift-giving would have still had me by your side.” 

He is a broken man and he wants to be alone, to have you pry yourself from his touch and leave the empty man to wallow in his own pain but he cannot. 

“Am I allowed to be honest?” His breath starts to shorten and he wants to claw at his throat until blood dirties his hands and his words are nothing more than confessions of a dying man. You nod your head and he holds your hand tighter in his. “I-” you are warm and you are there for him- “I just want you to be by my side.” His mouth and dry and his words come out croaked. He is a man to be feared, a bringer of death by a simple touch and yet, he is weak when it comes to you, helpless as love and care are given to him. He cares for those he considers family and he’ll claim that he’ll hate it, but he’ll never stop the emotions bubble from deep within him. “You always have to leave. Or I do. Someone- The League likes you, all of them. Toga, Twice, Spinner, Compress, even Dabi. They all care for you so when you visit, you’re whisked away. Or I am. I just want to be beside you.” His hold on your hand loosens. “Just for one day.” 

He doesn’t know what it is. The dying need to be loved, the want of comfort and companionship. You accept him whole, flaws and all, you understand the wall that he places, the protection that it provides. You touch him in all the spots that bruises and blood once touched, you burn him and cleanse him, your lips and words spill onto him, unbreaking and whole. 

It’s everything who he is to care for those that are close to him, but it’s different and all the same with you. He can’t expose the true horrors of what he’s done and what he will do; the ash and blood that has stuck to his body as if it was always meant to be there, as if he was always supposed to hold destruction in his hand.

“Tomura,” you call for him. His eyes meet yours and he wonders what you see in him. Your hand leaves his and his eyes stained with horror and love meet yours. Your hands cusp his face and he swallows thickly, a twitch of his jaw betraying the hidden desire to lean into your hand. “I’ll always stick by you. Thick and thin-” your smile is sweet like candy you once brought him, addictive and leaving him with a craving that could never be satisfied until he indulged in himself- “I promise.” 

One day, he’ll have to leave you or you’ll have to leave him. He knows it. He feels deep inside of him. A broken man destined to kneel at the ground with blood on his body, his sides empty and tears cleaning his ash-covered face. He is broken, raked and repaired, gold that seeps past his wounds and drips onto your hands that are covered with flaws and love. He knows the promise is false, it’s nothing more than a way to quiet him and to secure you further into this relationship. The relationship is fleeting, rushing by, the smiles and love, the embrace and tender kisses, are all that keeps him grounded with you. 

He moves and his lips are on yours and he can hear you gasp. Tears burn in his eyes and he can't breathe. He suffocates himself against your lips, kisses and lets himself drown in you, lets himself drown with you. Your hands fall and he moves closer, kissing until he’s bruising, pressing deep into you until you can feel the soft, raw skin of where he picked at, and he wishes he had the candy once more, that the sugar essence of it coated his lips and he tasted like wonderment himself. He wonders if you know what it’s like to be addicted, he wishes and wants that you’re addicted to him like he is to you. His hands fall and they hold yours. He kisses you until he’s breathing is ragged, pulls you close and looks into your eyes, smiles against your lips and holds your hand until he’s sure that you won’t fade away. Tomura will kiss you with tears in his eyes, begging you to not leave him in his mind as he kisses you with desperation and grief, something so thick in taste that you cling closer to him and he welcomes it all.

[some-kindofgnome]

Same anon here!!!! So looking at it I think food can fit into 3/5 love languages.

Most obviously and what I think would be Katsuki's main one, acts of service. As someone who was raised to show love and care through food, this hits home. He will sit and wait with baited breath when he tries a new recipe. He will never tell you but when you smile wide and tell him it's amazing, he is probably doing cartwheels internally.

Next up! Giving gifts. One of the best reactions I've gotten to a gift was when I made my ex fiance freezer meals he just had to microwave for Valentine's. And same with what you said about baking cakes!!!!! Giving food is also like giving someone a little piece of you!!!!!! Like here, have some of my heart but in a metaphorical, non-canibalistic way!

Lastly, quality time!!!!! Ok so one of my first memories is sitting next to the stove on the counter making smiley face pancakes with my grandma. You can't tell me Bakugou wouldnt secretly enjoy having you keep him company while he cooks. Probably doesn't want your help but loves having you there.

I can't help myself so here have a blurb:

He didn't realize what having you in the kitchen would mean to him. At first he thought you'd just get in the way, but no, you just sat on the counter or on a stool talking when he asked a question, humming to yourself when there was a comfortable silence and very rarely handing him a tool or ingredient if he briefly forgot where it was. You became his taste tester and despite his stoic expression, he secretly lived to watch your face light up when a new dish was good, and on the off handed chance it was ok or less he would spend the next week correcting it till you beamed at him once again!

Sundays became a ritual. Wake up, breakfast made by him, work out, clean everything besides the kitchen and then keep your boyfriend company while he did a week's worth of meal prep. He prefers you to sit on the counter next to where he is working. Better hugging and kissing height and he lives for the way you stop him from time to time, (when he isn't holding a knife) pull him close, running fingers through his hair and kissing him deeply. Once you wrap your legs around him it seals the deal and you take a brief detour from meal prep.

You threw off his whole plan for proposing to you this very way. He had reservations for a fancy dinner, someone to take photos, flowers, the whole nine yards. And yet. The morning off you had both woken up late, and as Katsuki stood at the stove making your favorite breakfast, he melted right into your touch. The ring he had constantly had on him for two weeks suddenly felt heavy and something about the moment just felt right and perfect.

So there, in the room you may very well use the most in your house, on a quiet Saturday morning, Bakugou Katsuki fell to one knee, "marry me?"

Yes, yes yes, was all you could say between tears and hugs and kisses. Until the smoke detector went off, the forgotten breakfast having gone up in flames.

And when you can't be 100% certain, you are confident at least on of you kids was conceived in that very kitchen. And don't think for a second Kaminari let bun in the oven jokes go once he found out!

Years pass, routines change, but, something remain. Katsuki showed his love through food and he sat each and every child up on the counter to watch, until they were old enough to help and learn, planting the seeds of this tradition in their little minds early on.

And you stand in the door way, admiring your husband and kids, watching sweet memories bloom before your eyes. Food connects us in some of the most beautiful ways. For the Bakugou household, food meant love.

Sorry it got so long!!!!!! Also, I did purposefully send it off anon, so no worries if you feel like sharing it. Or feel free to hoard it forever! Up to you! It's the least I can do for all the amazing writing you give us!

okay, okay, OKAYYYY, i’ve been sitting on this long enough. I wanted to keep it in my inbox forever and ever and ever so I could treasure it, but I’ve settled for taking a screenshot because the world deserves this joy just as much as I do. Especially today. Today feels like the right day to share this.

I just re-read your little drabble and it made me sOB BIG FAT UGLY TEARS. that spur-of-the-moment, private proposal is all I’ve ever wanted. and it feels so true to Katsuki, too. he doesn’t care who sees or who you’re with. he doesn’t give a shit about pomp and circumstance. he just wants you, and wants to show you that in the truest way he can.

to be proposed to spontaneously in the kitchen is a whole new level of special, especially for me. this conversation got started because we were talking about food as a love language and I connected so deeply with it because it’s my love language. to spend a single Sunday afternoon in Katsuki’s kitchen would be sublime. to spend every sunday in Katsuki’s kitchen would be transcendent.

thank you… so much for writing this. i’m literally about to print it out and stick it in my journal. i want it on paper. i want to keep it forever. i love it beyond explanation.

thank you 💖

[hermits-that-craft]

Read - A Dream SMP Fanfic

He opens his chests frantically, panic settling into his chest like a falling stone. It wasn’t at the hole he dug, nor at the spider spawner or the mine. Where could it be? 

That book has everything, his memories, his morals, what he did. How he betrayed L’Manburg and his new friends. His home. How he knew Tommy was alive the whole time. He can’t lose this book, he has to find it.

“It has to be somewhere in one of these.” Ranboo mumbles to himself, trying to keep the panic away. It doesn’t work, his voice shaking with fear. “Somewhere in one of these, c’mon.”

“Oh my god, you can’t do this. You can’t-” Ranboo cuts himself off as he looks through a barrel, shoving items around in it with a sinking feeling in his gut. “You can’t lose it. You can’t lose it.”

“Where did you put it, where?” Ranboo’s voice is desperate, fear creeping in. “Where could it have gone too.”

He’s panicking, flashes of his parents and pain and yelling are all he can picture. Were they real? Were they fake, imaginings of a past to make an excuse for why he left them? What’s real, whats fake anymore.

“Where could it have…” He trails off, climbing on top of a chest. “Where could it have been?”

“Well, there's nowhere else you went besides here, you went to the spider spawner and you went to there.” He reminds himself, trying to calm himself down as he climbs up the ladder. “I know, I know.”

He laughs breathlessly as he jumps off the ladder, opening the single chest on the floor. Ranboo mumbles a soft “Fuck” as it turns up useless. He was supposed to decorate the festival today. Instead, he’s chasing his memories. “This is not good, this is not good.”

“Oh,” Ranboo tears up, hurriedly brushing them out of his eyes as he searches through his home for that goddamn book. “C’mon its gotta be- Where did you put it?”

“Where did you put it?” He repeats to himself, anger following the despair. He stares angrily in a chest, as though the slime balls and worn leather boots will turn into the one thing he couldn’t lose. “Where did you keep it? Where did you keep it?”

“Can’t remember.” He feels himself tearing up again, ready to give up. He can’t remember, this isn’t fair. Why did he let it out of his inventory, when did he let it out? Desperation claws at his throat and Ranboo almost chokes as it threatens to consume him whole. “I can’t even remember where it is.”

“It’s gotta be somewhere. It’s gotta be somewhere.” Ranboo says, opening the double chest on the floor. It’s an awkwardly placed chest, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already checked it, but maybe a miracle will occur and it’ll be there. “Oh.”

There, sitting under some lily pads, is his book.  Do not read is carved carefully into the leather, a gift from Philza that Ranboo cherishes. Leather carving is not his strong suit, and when Phil saw his old book of memories he made him a new one just to see a better carving. Ranboo sinks to his knees in relief, holding the book in his hands. 

“That's good.” He mumbles, tears no longer welling in his eyes. “It’s all here. It’s all there, it’s all there.” Ranboo stands, flipping through the book to check for any damages. “Okay. It’s all there.” 

“You didn’t put it there.” He realises, horror setting in. “I know you didn’t put it there. You didn’t put it there -”

“You didn’t keep it in that chest,” he looks to the chest that only holds semi-useless garbage. “You didn’t keep it in that chest, that's not where you originally put it.” Horror, fear and confusion mix together in a sickening cocktail as he stares at the chest. “That's not where you originally put it. I know, cause I remember.”

“But how could it have moved?” He reasons with himself, trying to calm down. “There's no- there’s no way, how could it have moved?”

“How did it move?” The horror in his voice is palpable, fear eating at his chest. It’s not supposed to do that, books can’t do that, and this chest definitely did not have his memory book in it when he first searched his house. Blood roars in his ears, and then something sharp is forced into his neck.

A needle.

The contents of the needle are pushed into his veins as someone holds him down, and Ranboo struggles against them. He doesn’t feel any different as the needle is taken out of his neck, but he knows that it’s only a matter of time before whatever this is hurts him more. Ranboo flips over, shocking the man on top of him. Fundy. Fundy holds the needle in his hands, his tail swishing in long arcs. Ranboo stares at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Why?” Ranboo’s voice is slurred, and his pupils dilate to the point where Fundy probably wouldn’t be able to see the colour in them. “Hurts.”

“You betrayed us, Ranboo.” Fundy says, and his voice softens. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I just have to get you to the little jail that Quackity built, okay?”

“Hurts.” Ranboo nearly slips into ender, the dull throb in his head beginning to feel as though it will split his head in two. “Hurts, ‘undy.”

“Just go to sleep.” Fundy’s tail stops swishing, and he kneels down, smiling darkly at the teenager. Then, the ground starts to spin as the world 

Goes

B

  L

   A

    C

      K

---

Ranboo shoots up, his hands chained together. His eyes scan the room around him, noting the purple shifting on the obsidian as light hits it from through the cracks in the iron door. The obsidian room is cold, and Ranboo opens his mouth to call for someone, before finding that he can’t. Panic, now an old friend, sets in as Ranboo struggles to force the muzzle off of his face. 

The door swings open, and Ranboo’s fear filled eyes meet Fundy’s cold ones. Tears prick in his eyes as Fundy gestures to someone outside the door, and Quackity enters with an axe. A whimper forces its way out of his throat as Ranboo spies the bloody aprons that the pair are wearing, though he can’t remember why he should be afraid. Why is he afraid, they’re his friends, right?

“Take the muzzle off him, Fundy.” Quackity says, the iron door screeching shut. Fundy nods, walking over to Ranboo without hesitation. He ignores the way that Ranboo flinches away from him, squeezing his eyes shut as the painful muzzle comes off. “Now, Ranboo, I expect you to answer us truthfully, why did you give Technoblade back his armour?”

“I don’t know.” Ranboo looks at the ground, a few stray tears burning his cheeks as they fall. “I don’t know, I don’t remember.”

The axe finds its home in his leg, and Ranboo lets out a strangled wail as the pain hits him. Quackity slams his head into the wall, and Ranboo sends a pleading look to an uncaring Fundy. Fundy said that he wasn’t going to be hurt, right? Why is he being hurt?

“Don’t lie to me!” Quackity yells, and Ranboo slams his eyes shut to avoid looking at his once-friend’s face. “We took you in, we gave you a home, and you betrayed us!”

“I don’t remember!” Ranboo pleas fall on deaf ears, but he still pleads his case. “Please, you have to believe me!”

“You wrote it down in your book!” Fundy protests. “If you don’t remember it, then why did you write it down?”

“So I would remember it, later!” Ranboo says, trying to fight down the panic. He’s injured and chained up, teleporting would do nothing to help him now. 

“Quackity, let him go.” Fundy’s voice is soft as he talks to the man, and Ranboo falls to the ground as his head is released. “Ranboo, you knew that Tommy was alive this whole time. Is there a reason that you didn’t tell us?”

Ranboo thinks for a moment, trying to gather his panicked mind into anything resembling a processable thought. Memories flit around the edges of his mind, dangerously close to being able to remember them, as though if he only reached out more he would be able to remember them completely. One comes to him, falling through his hands like sand, but he understands what past him had decided.

“I wanted to give him the ability to tell you all himself.” Ranboo says as he remembers. “I wanted to give him the choice, I think.”

“You aided Technoblade in making Tommy into his puppet!” Quackity growls, and Ranboo flinches away from the man.

“Isn’t Technoblade Tommy’s older brother?” Ranboo asks, the memory falling away like the tide. “They acted like brothers. I thought he would be happy there.”

“You’re a fool.” Quackity spits on Ranboo, who hisses at the water. “You and Dream will both have fun at the festival, you fucking bastard.”

And Quackity pulls the axe out of Ranboo’s leg, turning out of the cell as someone unknown opens the door to let him out. Green blood flows out of the wound, and Fundy winces, pouring a healing potion over the wound. Ranboo watches him, not knowing if he can fully trust the other hybrid.

“You said that I wasn’t going to get hurt.” Ranboo says quietly, trying to work out if Fundy had lied to him, or if he just didn’t know that Quackity was going to get violent.

“No, I said that I wouldn’t hurt you. I never spoke for the others.” Fundy sights, pushing his fluffy red hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry he hurt you, but we had to find out information.”

“He threw an axe into my leg.” Ranboo feels sick, the feeling of bone shards finding their proper home in his legs not helping. “I thought we were friends.”

“We still are.” Fundy lies. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” Ranboo leans against the wall, trying to ignore the world. Maybe this is all just a bad dream. Maybe he’s going to wake up soon.

“Did you lie to Quackity about not remembering why you gave Technoblade his armour back?”

“No.” Ranboo says immediately. “Why would I lie, he’s my friend. He was my friend.” Ranboo frowns. “Is he still my friend? I’m so confused.”

“Thank you.” Fundy says after a moment, scrutinising Ranboo. “I’ll make your case to Tubbo. I’m sure you’ll be pardoned - or at least put into house arrest or community service.”

Ranboo doesn’t quite believe Fundy, especially as he watches the fox hybrid leave. He believes Quackity’s prophecy far more than Fundy’s ideal.

Tagging @dark-angel1946 because they asked me to.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

Part Two

Aelin leaned her head against a solid chest and counted the beats. These stolen moments were what she and Sam lived for. His breaths were even, and the gentle rumble of thunder outside assured their temporary safety.

 Arobynn's plain was delayed due to the torrential downpour flooding Rifthold. They'd received the text at the same time, and Sam immediately came to find her. Sneaking into the manor was risky, but Tern, Harding, and Mulligan were all occupied, and no one would dare enter Arobynn's office while he was away.

Well, everyone besides them. The danger was definitely worth it, Aelin mused as she stretched like a cat and sprawled into a more comfortable position over the muscled torso. A hand reached up and dragged calloused fingers through her hair, making her preen with satisfaction.

 Sam chuckled from below her, spread out like a starfish on Arobynn's poached polar bear rug. She felt sad for the untimely death of the creature, but she couldn't deny it made the perfect spot for their rendezvous.

 "We can't stay like this forever," Sam reminds her gently. He works his fingers down her long blond hair to the nape of her neck, where he works at the knotted muscles.

 "Not now, but soon," she reminds him as if he wasn't the one to concoct their crazy escape plan.

 A kiss pressed against her forehead marks the seal of his promise. "Soon," he agrees. "This hell will be over for you and me." The conviction of his voice lets that little tealight of hope in her chest flicker dangerously.

 "We will be free. The only dreams we will be having is what our home together will look like," she nuzzles into his chest and urges him to keep going. He knows she likes it when he talks long term to her.

"In the mornings, I will wake up to you in my bed. Your hair all over the place, and your arms constricting me like a hungry python."

 She cracks her eyes open at that and gives him a sleepy glare.

 "I wouldn't change a single thing about it," he continues. "Knowing you are safe with me is all I will ever need to be happy. Waking up to you in my arms is enough beauty to sate me wherever we end up. I'll be the happiest man alive."

 Tears burned the corners of her eyes, and a lump ached in her throat. For so long, she'd been deprived of affection and relationships of any kind. Aelin couldn't help the feeling of free-falling every time Sam declared his love. It was a treasure she thought she'd never had again. "I love you, Sam," Aelin whispers against his chest and presses a messy kiss to the muscle there.

 "Then why didn't you look for me?" His voice cracks in pain.

 Startled, Aelin's head shoots up. Ice chills her blood, and the screams that pour from Aelin's mouth are unearthly when she's faced with the gaping holes where his eyes should be.

 His eyes. She feels that familiar pain beneath her ribs. Those eyes that had been so kind. Made her feel so safe and radiated warmth. Aelin mourned their loss. Mourned him.

 "You didn't look for me," those damning words left his lips again.

 Aelin wakes up with a sob. "I'm sorry," she yells to the empty room.

 "I'm sorry," she keens. There are no hands in her hair. No beating heart beneath her cheek. She curls into a ball and grabs locks of her hair, pulling at them until strands fall loosely into her hand. The agony builds until it pinches her gut so hard and wrenches her heart so profoundly that she barely makes it to the toilet before hot, acidic bile burns a path up her throat.

 It burns through her over and over until she's leaned against the toilet seat sobbing. Her arms wrapped around her midsection protectively.    

 Morning sickness should have passed by now, but she still spent a great deal of time in this position. It never got less painful, and Aelin's seemed more aggressive than what other mothers recounted experiencing online. Her constant sickness and nightmares were leaving her feeling weak.

 Maybe it was a punishment for bringing a little life into a world that had savaged its father? That thought crossed Aelin's mind often. Perhaps it was penance for her selfishness. Her wanting to keep this small piece of Sam despite knowing the kind of life it would be subjected to endure.

 There was no forgiveness for the things she's done. Why would the universe let her have this? She should just be grateful it hadn't been taken from her entirely.

 Spineless, coward.

 Aelin laid curled up on the bathroom floor for hours. Existing in a constant cycle of sickness followed by mental torment. Chills wracked her frame, and she trembled on the cold tile. She barely had the energy to lift herself up when the urge to vomit struck her. Words floated in her head, furthering her misery.

 Coward. Liar. Oathbreaker. Life taker.

 That's where Lysandra found her, at a much more reasonable hour of the morning. Aelin was so tired she could only sob when the door cracked open. Her head fell forward and rested against the porcelain seat, too weak to hold it up any longer.

 Lysandra had cringed and very gently guided her head from the toilet rim to her shoulder, nestling Aelin's forehead into the crook of her neck despite the cold-sweat there.

 She crooned sweet nothings and soothed Aelin until she had the strength to stand up and collect herself. Lysandra helped her dress and brush her teeth. She left Aelin to sit on the couch and came back with lightly buttered toast, a glass of water, and a cup of ginger tea.

 Her attempt to decline it was futile. Lysandra left no room for argument. Slowly, Aelin bit the toast and sipped the tea. Bite by bite and drink by drink, she finished the breakfast.

 Lysandra didn't relent her hovering for the rest of the morning. As she was forced through her morning routine under her friend's watchful eye, she began to feel more human, and that awful pain slowly faded to the background of her mind. Nausea still rolled in her belly, but the food and drink helped settle it enough for her to function.

 Now here Aelin was, only a couple of hours later, filling muffin cups to have ready for the early morning regulars.

Her attitude was dismal.

 She felt sick. Her body ached from hours of lying on the cold tile. Sweat soaked her clothes and chilled her forehead. Just looking at her cup of tea made her angry that it wasn't coffee, but her stomach burned so furiously that not even coffee sounded good. It was a horrible paradox and was only just that much more upsetting.

 Aelin felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and she slammed the bowl of batter down so hard that it splattered up her apron. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and tried to will the tears back down.

 Maybe she would cave to Lysandra's demands that she go upstairs and rest. It went grated against her desire to be self-sufficient and independent, but taking a hot bath and curling up in her bed sounded like pure bliss. The baby would likely benefit from her decompressing, too. That thought sold her on the idea.

 The bell at the counter rang.

 Aelin took a deep breath and washed her hands quickly. She would take this customer and then let Lysandra know she was taking the day off.

 Thinking of the jasmine soap and the warm blanket waiting for her upstairs was just enough for her to plaster on a smile.

 "Goodmorning, how can I- you," The last word came out in a hiss. Aelin's smile melted as quickly as it came.

 The asshole was back, and he brought a friend.

 Whoop-dee-freaking-doo.

 To his credit, the friend was equally as beautiful as the Asshole himself. He had dark skin, the color of polished pennies, and long blonde hair that coiled just above the arches of his cheekbones. If his choice of companionship didn't perturb Aelin so much, she might've found him attractive.

 Hell, she found him attractive anyway.

 "Is that how you greet all your customers, sweetheart?" The friend smiled at her, and his perfect teeth were bright enough to signal plains.

 "Do you call every girl sweetheart or only the ones you want to spit in your coffee?" Her tone is sharp enough to cut glass, and the man's eyes widen at the challenge.

 "I don't drink coffee, but I supposed the hot chocolate I was going to order is just as easy to violate," he laughs warmly, and her eyes follow the motion of his adam's apple. "How about I lay off the pet names in exchange for a warm cup of sugar without saliva?" His face was sincere enough that she felt less inclined to spite him for his choice of friends.

 "Your name?" she asks.

 "Fenrys," he offers without a joke, and Aelin writes it on a cup.

"I want a dark roast, black." The asshole reiterated his order from the day before. He had his arms crossed, and his face was set in a grimace. His comment the other day still rang in her ears, and she was certainly not feeling generous. Aelin scowled at him and left them both at the counter without a word.

 It only took a few minutes to make the cocoa. She made every cup from scratch with a recipe she'd been perfecting since childhood. As she prepped the drink, the store bells rang again.

 Turning around with the drink, she spotted her cousin Aedion at the door and smiled.

 She and Aedion had been separated by the system shortly after her parent's death. He was five years older, and their caseworker though Aelin stood a better chance of being adopted by herself. It was a traumatic memory for both of them. They'd found each other about a year ago, and it took little time for them to rekindle their relationship.

 She set the cup on the counter in front of them. "That will be three-fifty." The Asshole raised a pale eyebrow. "My coffee?"

"I have the right to refuse services to anyone I wish. That will be three-fifty." Aelin felt great satisfaction as The Asshole's lips pinched together and his scowl deepened.

 Aedion raised his eyebrow from across the room.

Lysandra chose that moment to walk back in, and when she caught sight of Aelin's expression and saw the seething man in front of her, she hastily made her way over.

"Can I help you?" She asks, looking towards the men. Aelin knew the question was directed at her, though.

 There were a lot of eyes on her. Aedion. Asshole. Handsome Fenrys. Lysandra. Aelin thrived on attention, but there was a difference between attention and being a spectacle. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller and crowded.

 Fenrys placed a hand on the Asshole's shoulder, concerned. "Hey. It's fine. We can get your cup of dirt water somewhere else. It's not a big deal, Rowan."

 Rowan.

 "I am a paying customer," the man, Rowan, gritted through his teeth.

 "You are paying for my coffee and pastries," Aelin snarled. "Your money does not purchase you the right to verbally abuse me.

 Aedion was over in an instant, chest puffed and oozing with male bravado. "Well met, gentleman. I believe my cousin said three-fifty." He edged close enough to bother their personal space. "If it's too difficult for you to figure out, I can help you count your coins and show you the door?"

 At six-two, Aedion was an intimidating figure. He was physically massive—layers of dense muscle from underground fighting and patrolling the streets with his gang, The Bane. An impressive tapestry of ink sprawled across his chest, curling out of his sleeves and collar just enough to let others know it's there. Most people would see him and think twice about approaching him.

 Rowan was taller than Aedion even, and perhaps more muscular as well. They squared up, neither breaking eye contact.

 Fenrys seemed displeased with the turn of events, but when Aedion turned to glare at him, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. He was next to Rowan in an instant, pushing on his chest. "That's enough of your shit. I'll pay, and we are leaving."

 He fished out five dollars from the pocket of his trousers and tossed it on the counter. "Keep the change. Sorry for disturbing your day, ladies."

 When the shop bells jingled, and the door slammed shut behind them, Aelin sighed and felt herself wilt against the counter. Her breathing was labored, and her heart still thrummed with the excess of adrenalin. She was prepared for a fight. Muscle memory had her tense and ready for the situation to escalate, which of course, it didn't. Old habits died hard, though.

 A steadying hand was gripping her elbow and helping her lean into a solid body. "Hey, Ace. Relax, it's fine."

 Lysandra shook her head, "That was the bastard from yesterday, I am guessing? You should have let me take care of that." She points up the stairs. "Go. You need to take a day off. Upstairs. Make sure she sits down, Aedion."

 "I had it handled," Aelin grumbled, allowing Aedion to tug her towards the stairs in the back of the little kitchen.

 Her cousin snorted, "Oh, I know you can handle yourself. The stress isn't good for Little A, though."

 "You just want to throw your street cred around."

 Aedion laughed, "That too."

 Aelin slumped onto the thread worn couch and tugged at her tennis shoes. She sighed when they finally slipped off, and she could rest her swollen feet on the old coffee table. Their apartment wasn't the luxury she and Lysandra were accustomed to, but it was more of a home than the Mannor had been.

 "You look exhausted," Aedion stated bluntly.

 Aelin closed her eyes and hummed. "Is that the language you use when you talk people into your bed?"

 "Not a lot of talking is required for that," Aedion says with a straight face. "Even if it was, I would be practicing on Lysandra, not you."

 Few words passed between them after that. They weren't necessary. Aelin and Aedion talked and texted all the time, but there were times when they just needed to soak in each other's presence. Years apart starved them of that unspoken bond they'd had as children.

 Being close to Aedion was one of the few things that staved the fear and allowed her to relax. He was like the familiar taste of hot tea and the warmth of a childhood blanket wrapped into one. She had no doubt that Lysandra had called and ordered him to come to see her at some point this morning.

 The Bane typically showed up on Friday nights to play poker at her tables and hang out. Aedion would stay through the weekend, and they would catch up then. An early morning visit on a weekday was out of the ordinary. Occasionally Kyllian or Jerome would pop by and make sure nothing was amiss.

 When Aelin and Lysandra liberated themselves and opened the shop, Aedion had insisted they find a location in The Bane's stomping ground. Arobynn was less likely to stumble across them outside of his territory. She'd seen Tern and Mulligan prowling the streets.

 Arobynn wouldn't let them go so quickly.

 Aelin hadn't wanted Aedion to get involved, but there was no way he would leave them defenseless.

 They compromised.

 Once a month Aelin would donate a small share of The Stag's tips for their protection. It was a pitiful amount. So she also offered her spare bedroom as a hideaway for Aedion's friends who needed a place to lay low. So far, only Ren had utilized it, but it was always ready to go.

 Aelin was by no means someone to screw with. Her other name was just as well known on the streets as The Bane were. It was a good arrangement.

 It's why Rowan had gotten under her skin so badly. She needed those tips to keep The Bane well equipped and for other resources to keep Arobynn out of her hair.

 He didn't know about the baby. Didn't realize the depth of how much Aelin had actually betrayed him. There would be hell to pay if he ever found out.

 Plus, baby shit was expensive.

 "So," Aedion finally broke the silence. "How did you piss off the cops?"

 Wait. "What?" Aelin sat up and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

 "That was Detective Fenrys. He booked me the last time one of our fights got broken up. Nice guy. Let me out on a technicality." Aedion smiled. "Maybe he just thought I was good looking. He's not wrong. I am assuming the other guy is his partner."

 "They are detectives?" Aelin spat.

 "The best and brightest Orynth has to offer," Aedion ruffled her hair as he stood. "You sure know how to pick your fights, cousin."

 Well shit.

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​

So I decided to take a crack at Adam. The plan is to have this be around 10 chapters, but that is just a guess at the moment. It starts a little angsty, but will lighten up as it goes along. Hope you enjoy!

If you would like on or off the tag list, please let me know!

It was more of a mist than a drizzle adding chill to the late autumn air as he walk through the dark streets. Even this time of night there were noises of fellow wanders, zombies he was sure, but he managed to keep from the streets where they roamed. The last thing he needed was to be confronted with the mindlessness of what passed for humanity in these times.

That was the trade off of life in the city. The need to constantly dodge others was barely offset by the convenience of shops open late and services not bound by the constraints of daylight. Not that Adam needed many services of others. He was in most ways self sufficient. He had worked for centuries to make it so. With but two exceptions - sustenance and music - he had only ever needed one soul besides his own.  

She was gone now, his Eve. Eleven years had passed since she had taken a glass of tainted blood in Tangier. It seemed like yesterday, it seemed like a lifetime. He wished it were his lifetime. Only a promise dragged out of him at her death bead had kept him from following her into oblivion. She had used every trick she possessed, every weakness she knew in him, to get him to agree to her demand, and now he was trapped, bound by a promise to another century on this blighted earth. Eighty-nine more revolutions until he could use the wooden bullet that lay heavy in breast pocket and end his grief.

He had wandered after she left him. Angry and bitter, he had left Africa and roved across the globe. Everywhere he went, though, there were memories. He saw her everywhere in Europe. The Middle East was littered with memories. Even South America echoed a life spent together.

Finally he had come back to America. She had not spent as much time in the States. It was easier here. He had considered Seattle, New Orleans, Memphis, the various musical centers of the country, but in the end New York had drawn him in. Strange, he had never spent much time here. Too many zombies too close together. And yet, he could not deny it had definite advantages, and for the most part no one paid any attention to what anyone else did.

He arrived at last at the brownstone in the East Village where he lived his weary life. He was excited, or at least as excited as he was capable of these days, to test out the Rickenbacker bass guitar that he had stumbled upon in a pawn shop. The owner had no idea how rare the model was, and had not known how to react to the large roll of cash that Adam had thrust at him for the  instrument.

Quickly shucking his black leather jacket, Adam took out he new prize and lovingly stroked the light grained wood. He could feel the decades of music that it had produced still reverberating through the body. He flicked a series of toggles and buttons to power up his sound system and plugged the Rickenbacker in. Closing his eyes he placed his fingers firmly on the frets and plucked out a rapid series of low notes, loving the reverberation and full tones it produced. Just as he began to segue into an actual song, however, a loud bang sounded and the lights, sound, and all other electronic power went dead.

"Shit!" he spit out, mood collapsing back in on itself as quickly as it had risen.

Setting the bass gently back in its case despite his irritation, Adam fumbled through his belongings until he located his tool box. After attaching his head torch and grabbing a second flash light just in case, he made his way down the hall to the ladder that lead up through a hatch onto the roof where a small shed held the electric box for his home.

"Just what I fucking need," he muttered, pulling himself onto the tarred surface.

He was just picking his tools back up when a loud creaking noise drew his attention. Just a few feet away, a second hatch door had opened, and a shape was pulling itself up and onto the roof with some difficulty, judging by the swearing. Adam watched in dismay as the shape unfolded itself to reveal a woman silhouetted against the half moon. She had a large, over bright flashlight in her hands that waved back and forth as she made her way to the shed that was his own destination.

"Who are you?" he asked, intercepting her before she could reach the structure.

"Ohmyfuckinggod!" she cried out, jumping almost a foot as he appeared in front of her.

Adam crossed his arms and waited silently for her to calm down, mouth drawn down into a habitual scowl.

"You scared me half to death!" she told him needlessly when she had regained some of her composure.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, just signaling Batman that evil is afoot," she said dryly, waving her oversized lamp back and forth.

Adam continued to stare at her, unamused, until she sighed and gave him a real answer.

"I'm checking out the fuse box. Are you from 89? You must be, I guess. So your lights are out too? It doesn't look like it's the whole block, just our two buildings. Hopefully flipping the switch will bring them back on."

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself," he told her when she finally stopped talking. "I have things well in hand. The power should be on shortly."

"Great," she said with a forced smile.

She didn't move. Why was she still standing there? Adam glowered at her, hoping to scare her off, but the brainless girl just stood there.

"Did you need something else?" he asked reluctantly.

"No, just the one thing," she replied, blinking at him. "Shall we get to it?"

"This will hardly take two," he ground out. "And I know how the system works."

He should! He had redone the entire wiring himself. The convoluted system of shorting wires and faulty circuits had been a travesty when he moved in. It had taken him almost a month to tear it out and build a more streamlined, efficient energy grid. The only problem now was when he forgot himself and pulled too much power for the subpar wiring in the wall to take. He had considered redoing that as well, but it would take time and draw attention, which he was keen on avoiding.

"Wonderful, then you can show me," she chirped at him. "After all, you may not be here the next time it goes off, and then I won't know how it works."

She was not going to let this go, he could tell from the deceptively stubborn set of her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes that he doubted her human eyes could catch in the darkness, he turned on his heel and walked over to the shed. Let her look at it, he decided. It was not like she would understand what he had done anyway.

"Woah," the nattering woman whistled as he opened the door. "That is not what I was expecting at all! It looks like some form of microhydraulics, but there's no way you could have a water source up here. What are you using?"

Adam turned and stared at her, really looking at her for the first time. She was short, even for a woman, not even coming up to his chin. Her hair was haphazardly tied into a bunch on the top of her head and looked like it would be bigger than she was if she were to let it down. The eyes she turned up towards him were inquisitive and sharp. She was pretty, he thought, for a zombie.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

"I tinker," she said with a shrug. "When I'm anxious. Which is a lot of the time lately, to be honest. Too much energy. Sometimes it helps to take things apart an put them back together again."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but realized he had no idea what he planned on saying. He closed it again and turned back to his contraption.

"Well, don't get any ideas about taking this apart," he grumbled, resetting the mechanism.

"No, I wouldn't," she assured him. "I only mess with my own things until I'm sure I can get them back the way they started. I learned that the hard way. This is really amazing. You are pulling in a boat load of energy. I just hope you don't burn the buildings down when it runs into the wiring. You're a musician, right? I've heard you practicing through the walls. I was so relieved you were good!"

Did this woman never stop talking? Despite his lack of response she seemed perfectly content to stand behind him, shining her flood light on the shed as he worked to get things running again.

"Oh! I see what you did there!" she commented brightly as the low hum of electricity started back up. "That should fix it. And I'm pretty sure I will be able to do that myself next time too!"

"Don't," he ordered, shutting the door with a loud clang. "If there is any problem with the power, I will fix it. I don't need someone else ruining my work."

"But if you're not here?" she repeated doggedly.

"Look, this has never been an issue before, why are you suddenly on my case about it now?"

"I didn't live here before," she answered. "I just moved in last week. This... this was my Grandmother's home. She died. Last week. I'm trying to sort it all now but..."

The light from his headtorch clearly lit up the tears that sprang to her eyes. As Adam stood there in horror, the girl's chin began to wobble and silent sobs hiccupped through her body. A moment later she had burst out crying. Adam, unable to think of anything else to do, slowly and gingerly put one arm around her shaking shoulders and patted her lamely on the back, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world.

***

Lilly woke up completely horrified. It had been a dream, she told herself. It had to have been a dream. That was the only way she was going to survive the events of the night before.

The soreness in her eyes and the streaks of mascara on the backs of her hands, unfortunately, told her the sad truth. It had been real. She had met her dark, handsome, mysterious neighbor, the one who played dark, mysterious music at all hours of the night, on a dark, mysterious rooftop. (Well, okay, maybe the rooftop hadn't been that mysterious, but still!) And what had she done? She had wept all over him like pathetic child.

This, she sighed to herself, was one of the many many reasons why she was single. Any normal girl would have played the damsel in distress, fluttered their eyes and let him be their hero. He certainly had the looks of a brooding hero, even if he seemed to lack the inclination. Of course, it might just be that he lacked the inclination because she had yammered on about anxiety and tinkering, and her grandmother's death and the cried all over him.

Groaning, she rolled over and looked at her clock, only to be greeted by blinking numbers. Of course. She had been too upset when he had finally managed to steer her back to her roof hatch and rid himself of her, lost in a combination of grief and humiliation, to reset it. Great. That meant that the alarm had never gone off. It could be any time now. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her fear. 4:00 in the afternoon. It had happened. She had become completely nocturnal.

Slowly dragging herself up, Lilly staggered to the bathroom and tried to let the hot water wash away her misery. She was tired of feeling miserable. By nature she was not a gloomy person. Anxious, yes, but not gloomy. It was just being here, in the house that once was her happy place but now held too many memories. All she could see where ever she looked was her beloved grandmother. Playing the piano, reading in the window nook, cooking in the large, renovated kitchen. Grandma Lillian was everywhere.

Growing up, Lilly had been an awkward child; small of body but big of personality Gran had said. She was always moving, either her hands or her mouth, having a hard time with stillness. It drove many people to distraction. Grandma Lillian, however, had stated quite matter of factly that she simply had a lot to do and more to say, and therefore needed to do it quickly.

Lilly had spent all of her summers and school vacations here, escaping into the city. Here, she could be herself. With all of the characters in New York City, she was far from the oddest. Grandma Lillian let her patter away happily, always taking her words seriously. She had also found all sorts of mechanical things for Lilly to tinker with, focusing her energy in a more productive direction. It was nonsense, she had opined, that girls were not encouraged more to go into the technical fields. Obviously that was the reason why nothing in this world ran properly.

She had hidden her illness from the family, from Lilly, until the very end. Lilly cursed herself that she had not seen through the excuses for the cancelled visits. A seniors cruise with her girlfriends! She could not imagine the opinionated woman stuck on a boat without someone going overboard. It wasn't until the very end, when she was had been taken to Hospice, that she had phoned Lillian to let her know that it was time to come and visit.

That was eight days ago. Lillian had held her hand at the end, singing in her tear choked voice the torch songs that her Grandmother had once made her living crooning in the night clubs of the city. It had not taken long. Less than a day and Lilly was alone, the owner of a house in the East Village and more money than she had ever imagined possessing, but much the poorer regardless.

The ensuing week was spent puttering around the brownstone, listlessly going through desks and dressers, boxes and cupboards. The memorabilia of a lifetime squirreled away into any available space. She had no need to work at the moment, which was good since she had no employment. Slowly but surely her own night owl tendencies had taken over and she was staying up until the sun streaked the horizon in the morning, only to bed down for the majority of the day. Her parents had always fretted and said it was a sign of depression. Gran had shrugged and agreed that the most exciting things happened at night.

The only excitement Lillian had experienced thus far had been the discovery that a new owner was in residence next door. For as long as she could remember there had been a constant stream of college and conservatory students renting out rooms in the building, turning over each year to the newest crop. Now though, there was one lodger only and he owned the building.

She had caught sight of him out the front window as he was leaving her second night there. Long, wild black hair that looked in want of brushing, black leather jacket, and black jeans that might have been painted on. He was tall, lean, and somehow dangerous looking. It was the way he walked, she decided. There was something almost feral in the swagger as he took off down the street. The next night she had heard him playing music.

At first she thought there were multiple musicians, but after hours spent guiltlessly eavesdropping she became convinced that it was only him. Interspersed with guitars, drums, bass, and other instruments that she couldn't name had come his voice, a distinctive low growl that cut through her sorrow to go straight to her core. She could feel the vibrations of his voice as surely as she heard the bass thumping through the walls.

She began haunting the window overlooking their stoops, hoping for sight of him. She caught glimpses a time or two, always late at night, well after dark. Rather he was coming in or going out, he seemed to eschew the daylight even more than she did. Lilly felt drawn to him, and by more than just his untamed beauty. She supposed she could write it off as one of her hyper-fixations, but intuitively she sensed it was more. She longed for an excuse to meet him.

And then she had. At night, on a roof, under a bright moon.

It would have been perfectly romantic, were she not dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and yoga pants, her hair flopped up any old way on her head. If her first words to him were not gasped out in a shriek, followed by thoughtless prattle. And the, the coup de gras, her sobbing breakdown. The look of unmixed horror on his face as he made his feeble attempt to calm her was burned into Lilly's brain.

She had to get rid of it. There might only be one chance to make a first impression, but maybe, just maybe, a second impression could in time supersede it. Never one to sit on a thought, Lilly squared her shoulders. It was six o'clock, he was bound to still be in. She would pay him a visit and apologize for her horrid behavior.

Yes, that was the plan. After all, what was the worst that could happen? It was bound to go better than last time.

[twinkleallnight]

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairing: Leo x Madeleine

Word count: 885

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry. 

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of death. 

Prompt: Features wackydrabbles prompt 74  in bold. 

Blessed to have a friend in @yourmajesty09. It's so soothing to hear her baby voice giving amazing mature suggestions while brainstorming. Thank you @txemrn for pre reading.

Remember Me...

“Are you sure, we should talk to her Riley?” Liam asked his loving wife, again, while getting ready for his meeting. 

Riley adjusted his tie and moved her fingers through his sideburns that were turning white. “Liam, we have tried all the other ways. You care for him a lot. Give it a try.”

“But what about Madeleine? My brother left her and then I did the same. She has lived a solitary life since then. I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“She is stronger than what you think. I have spent a long time with her by my side, since I took up my role as your queen.”

Liam let out a sigh. Riley hugged him; her warmth filling him in with reassurance. Her words fell softly on his ears, “We will pull him back. She will help us. Don’t you worry, dear.”

They both walked out of their chambers with ever smiling faces. The staff greeting them on their way to the private meeting room was unaware of the restlessness behind their king’s calm eyes.

_--_--_--_--_

Madeleine looked at the old wall clock in the study. It had been twenty-six long years. Twenty-six years of loyal service to the crown. Twenty six years of being ten minutes ahead of time for all the royal meetings.

 A diary sat on the table in front of her. It's leather cover had the royal crest embossed in gold on the upper half. Madeleine's perfectly manicured fingers were making circles on the smaller insignia of the duchy of Fydelia below the royal crest. She gathered her thoughts and opened the diary to quickly glance through the day’s events logged in. She closed it delicately after flipping the important pages. 

Madeleine rose straightening her dress and setting her grey short curls back. She stepped up in her flat shoes; heels were a thing in the past. Her legs were not as nimble in heels as they used to be.  She counted the ticking of the clock and thought, ‘It's time.’

The doors opened as the royal couple walked in. Madeleine did not expect Riley for the meeting but knew better to keep her reactions covered behind her bright red smile. 

“Your majesties!”

“How are you this morning, Madeleine?” Riley perked up. 

“Very well, thank you.”

They took their seats and it struck Madeleine that, oddly, Riley sat beside her instead of taking a seat across the table, next to her husband.

“What’s wrong?” her gaze shifted between Liam and Riley. 

“Madeleine…” Liam faltered as Riley gave him an encouraging look. “ We need your assistance in a matter.” He looked back at Riley for help.

Riley closed her eyes for a moment before she spoke with conviction. “Maddie, I am going to keep it short, straight and direct.” She took another deep breath and continued. “He is here.” 

“What? Who?...” Madeleine stared at both of them for a minute as realization dawned upon her. 

Memories of yester years came lashing back at her. Her handsome hero in his royal regalia, towered in front of her slender stature. Her hands proudly moving over his sapphire sash, had felt his strong frame. He had lifted her chin and she had raised her eyelids to get lost into his ocean blue eyes. When their lips touched for her first kiss, her fingers had nested in his sandy blonde hair. Her naïve response had made him chuckle. "Mad, Maddie!”

“Maddie..” Riley’s soft call brought her back. “Say something.”

Madeleine focused, “What do you want me to say?”

Liam cleared his throat. “Madeleine, seven months ago his wife, Katie, passed away and since then he has not been himself.”

Madeleine said with a bite, “He never came back to Cordonia. Why now? After all these years?”

“His daughter is pregnant and couldn’t manage him. That’s when she reached out to us. He is devastated. He keeps speaking to himself and blabbers nonsense.” Liam tried to explain.

Riley placed her hand on Madeleine’s and held her numbed fingers. “Maddie, Liam tried. We didn’t want to involve you. But you know these Rhys men, it’s not easy to make them open up. Maybe, you can help us… somehow.” 

Madeleine blinked to keep her tears at bay. “I have few meetings lined up. I will get back to you.” 

Liam interrupted, “I have cleared your day. I understand it’s a lot. If only we knew of other options, we would not have asked you for this.”

Madeleine nodded and got up holding  her diary close to her heart. She contained her inner turmoil and bowed away. Liam and Riley watched her receding figure with silent thoughts.  

 Madeleine walked swiftly to her chambers.Once behind the doors, her steps became heavy. She trudged across the room to her dressing table. She stared blankly into the mirror. Her hand moved over her cheek. Her fingers paused around the wrinkles forming around her eyes. She had hidden the stressful lines of her lonely life behind her makeup.

She slumped down on her couch, her diary still clutched in her other hand. She placed it on her lap and slowly opened it. Her eyes settled gloomingly at the inbuilt folder. She pulled out an old polaroid photograph from it. A pair of blue eyes stared back at her while a tear painfully rolled down her cheek. “Ohh Leo...!” she sighed. 

Part 2 here

Tags: specially for my Leo friends: @queenrileyrose @choiceskatie @leelee10898

And queen Madeleine: @speedyoperarascalparty

And the regular tags:

@ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @kingliam2019 @lifeaskim @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @secretaryunpaid @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09

[tiny-cacti-magnet]

God of Loss

Part Two: Press Our Bones Together — Snippet One

<<<—Prev | Next—>>>

Summary: Tommy had no fucking clue how his friends had managed to scrap together enough money for a small funeral service.

—

Or: The AU of New Deceit’s an Old Design where Karl doesn’t show up right away, and Tommy mourns his brother’s death.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning.

Note: This is an extended deleted scene from New Deceit’s an Old Design continuing after chapter four. You all asked for this.

Tommy had no fucking clue how his friends had managed to scrap together enough money for a small funeral service. He assumed Quackity had something to do with it. Said president stood in the back of the small church as the pastor said a short prayer. Tommy didn’t know what the point of that was. Wilbur had never been religious.

He sat in the front pew, with Ranboo on one side and Tubbo on the other. He hardly listened as the man gave the prayer, barely managing to keep his eyes from watering as they stared at the dark oak coffin to his left. Its silver trimmings reflected the rays of sun that filtered through the high windows near the ceiling.

Niki got up from the row behind him, Puffy close to her side. The couple gathered around the closed coffin, and Niki gently rested her hand on its edge, tears dripping from her eyes as she whispered something that Tommy couldn’t make out.

Tommy stayed in his seat as Niki walked over to stand in front of him. “Hi, Tommy,” she said softly, then sniffed and wiped her nose with the edge of the sleeve of her dress. “How are you feeling?”

He shook his head as a single tear escaped his left eye, and he quickly wiped it away. “Shit,” he mumbled, and Ranboo draped a lanky arm over his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I just…” she started off, then lost her voice halfway through the sentence. “Just wanted to say that if you need anything… I’m always here.”

Tommy nodded, then reached up as she bent down for a hug. “Thanks, Niki,” he whispered into her shoulder, breathing in the flowery scent of her perfume.

They left shortly after, leaving Tommy to a mostly empty church. Tubbo and Ranboo sat by his sides; Quackity stood in the back, seemingly waiting for everyone else to leave before making himself known. And an older lady sat on the opposite side, holding a forest green book tightly in her hands.

Tommy vaguely wondered if she had gotten lost. Or if she was one of those weirdos that crashed quiet funerals just to fill out the audience.

He inhaled deeply, nose filling with the smell of incense and melted wax from thrift store candles. Tommy cleared his throat and looked between his two friends. “Can I… can I have a moment? Alone?”

Tubbo reluctantly nodded and got up, Ranboo quickly trailing after him. “You’ll come out when you’re ready?”

“Mhm.”

As soon as they stepped out the front door, Quackity came up the aisle to his side, taking a seat where Tubbo had once been.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” he apologized quietly, fingers picking at the hems of his sharp black suit. “I’m so sorry.”

Tommy sniffed and shrugged weakly. “Not your fault, innit,” he croaked. “You tried.”

Quackity frowned. “But it wasn’t enough.”

No, it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, then stood up, making his way over to the casket to say a goodbye that Tommy didn’t hear.

Tommy stared at a spot on the floor after Quackity left, trying and failing to hold back the tears from spilling over again. He wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his suit jacket, borrowed from Tubbo, and pulled his knees to his chest, shoes on the bench.

He sat there until the tears finally stopped, what could have been hours or minutes later, alone in an empty church.

He looked up when the bench creaked, someone taking a seat beside him. The old lady who was either lost and confused, or just plain weird.

“Do I know you?” he asked, resting his cheek on one knee.

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t, no. I just came to give you this.” She held out the book he had seen earlier.

He turned it over and looked at the cover, eyebrows furrowing as he read the title. A geography book?

“I used to be a geography teacher,” she explained. “Your brother and I rode the bus together, and I’ve been lending him my collection for a while now. But I thought you should keep this one.”

Tommy opened the book, eyes scanning over the detailed maps that covered its well-worn pages. “I—thank you,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Of course,” she said quietly. “He thought the world of you, you know.”

Tommy nodded, closing the book as tears threatened to fall again. “I know,” he choked out. “I know.”

The old woman left, leaving the church with the irregular sound of patterned taps as her heels clicked down the aisle to the back.

Tommy got out of his seat then, taking four steps to his left to the casket. He laid a hand on the cold shiny wood, tracing his fingers over the detailing along the edges, carved flowers and leaves.

Cold.

It shouldn’t be cold.

He took a deep breath and stilled his body’s shudders. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes locked on the box. “Please just—I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

The words trailed off as the lump in his throat became too much to speak around. Tommy inhaled a long breath, holding the air in his lungs, and stood there for another minute before crossing his arms over his eyes and laying his head down on top of the casket.

“I’m so sorry, Wil,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

For a thousand different things, for apologies that were too little and too late, for an unreturned goodbye, for not getting the stabilizer in time. He cried the words on repeat until he wore himself out, guilt eating away at his chest.

‘I love you too’, he hadn’t said, too caught up in his own stubbornness to give his brother a proper goodbye.

He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying desperately to get his voice to work properly again. When he felt like he could talk without breaking apart again, he stood up straight and uncrossed his arms, leaving his palms flat on the smooth surface of the wood.

Tommy looked around the church, at faded but intricate stained-glass windows close to the ceiling, at four rows of empty pews, at a small fountain on the other side, and at the image of a god that he didn’t believe in.

“I love you,” he breathed again, “so fucking much. And it’s—it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you—left. It’s not fair.” His voice cracked, and Tommy took a shuddering breath to right it. “We got dealt a shit hand, didn’t we?” he laughed weakly. “I just—I want you to know something, and it’s fucking important, so you better remember it. I know your memory’s kind of shit.”

He let out a long sigh, tapping his fingertips against the wood. “I’m gonna be okay,” he said. “Not for a long fucking time, and maybe not entirely. But mostly, I think. And that’s good enough, right? I’ll take what I can get. And I’m still gonna do shit. I’m still gonna live. I know you wouldn’t want me to just—I dunno—stop doing that. I still have people, and I still have stuff to do. Big man shit, you know how it is.”

Tommy whipped his head up as a crow cawed outside, then turned back to Wilbur. “One day, I’m gonna be really fucking happy again, Wil. I want you to know that because that’s what you’d want to know, right? You’d want to know I’m gonna be okay. But anyways, when that one day is here, you’re gonna be right there with me,” he said quietly, eyes quickly filling with new tears. “You’re never gonna stop being with me because I love you. And I don’t care if you’re dead, or if you’ve been dead for years, I’m never going to stop.”

He wiped the tears off his cheeks with his hands. “Do you understand?”

Tommy waited for a response that didn’t come, then softly whispered, “Good.”