#which just. re-opened all the wounds that took me so long to seal

[demondae]

-x-

[ragingbookdragon]

The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

YES YES YES REBEL PUNZ PLEASEEEE I NEED IT FOR SCIENCE PLEASEEEE

-🐉anon

Okay so *sigh* I know I keep saying this about all our boys but I love heem

𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋. ☥ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥!𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐳

pairing: rebel!Punz x fm!reader

word count: ~ 3500

warnings: smut (18+), pure filth basically, language, blood, fighting, illegal activities, degradation, praise, domination, spanking, etc.

playlists: Rebel!Punz, EDGERS

The basement was only accessible through one door which was stationed at the back of Techno’s motorcycle shop. The door was bolted from the inside, only to be unlocked after the murmuring of a password known by word of mouth.

Behind the door was a flight of stairs going downward. The walls are reminiscent of walking through a damp tunnel, the air hanging thick, smelling of rotting soil and burning leaves. A man stationed on one of the landings would open the door at the end of the staircase and then move back upstairs as one would continue through the dark hallway, faintly hearing the sounds of men shouting. Finally, the last entryway and the gateway into a different universe: two double doors made of decaying wood.

The hinges always creaked when pried opened, giving the illusion that the basement was nothing more than storage, yet through those doors laid a bustling room of cockroaches and their bookies. Men in all shapes and sizes, in suits and sweatpants, with elaborate hairstyles and hats clustered around a giant roped-off area in the center of the basement.

Ritual followers of the activities referred to it as the Ring.

The dingy atmosphere of expensive cologne and cigar smoke was a trip back in the twenties when similar tactics were just for the high of living. Underground matches are like alcohol during the prohibition and the Ring was the modern-day speakeasy.

And that’s where you were, swimming in the stale fog of cigar smoke and sweaty bodies as you scored percentages into your small notebook, taking the bribes as cash was handed to you. The men with the expensive appearances always flaunted their exaggerated statistics, testing your knowledge about the Ring as if they weren’t facilitating some kind of kill match. They treated you as if you were the equivalent of a cigarette girl when in reality, you held their fortunes in your hand and controlled the fate of the fight.

You were Techno’s eyes, ears, and author. He would observe from afar, crossing his arms over his chest as you eyed Punz, telling him which way to fix the fight to make Techno the most money. Punz was completely attuned to you, his light eyes trained to search for your mild quirks and subtle hints as you pretended to add up the odds. Regretfully, it was a losing night against an outside competitor.

Punz drew in a sharp breath as you chewed the inside of your cheek, barely instructing him. You flashed him four of your fingers, knowing full-well that Techno was guaranteed at least a $10,000 payout if Punz let the competitor wail on him for that long. You always preferred the nights when you could nod for him to flatten the challenger in under two rounds, but nights like tonight left your stomach in knots.

You rolled the sleeves of your white button-up shirt, your suit jacket hanging on a fold-out chair nearest to Techno as you continued to work the floor. As you walked the perimeter, your gaze glued to Punz, who was wrapping white tape around his knuckles and watching you. You knew that his heavy-handed approach in the first few rounds would leave the protection in nothing but white tatters, peeling away from his butchered skin.

His lip was still busted from the match a few days prior, cheekbone tinted with a purple hue and eyes set tired to avoid giving away the adrenaline you knew was pulsing through his body. His hand flexed against the tape, giving him more motion. Your sights settled on the healing cut that divided his eyebrow, the memory of seeing Dream’s ring cut into Punz’s face making your blood boil.

You liked to stand on the opposite end of the make-shift ring from Punz. There were days when you wished you weren’t some kind of conductor for the underground matches, mainly so you could cheer on your lover like the rest of the spectators.

But alas, you were the puppeteer and Punz was your obedient marionette.

The fight began with the ringing of an ancient-looking shift bell, Punz stepping back on the balls of his feet as his opponent remained defensive. Punz rolled his eyes, sights flashing to you before moving to land the first blow; a heavy shot to the man’s side. You crossed your arms, nodding as if to tell him he only needed to lose by a hair.

At your direction the fight became bloodier, knuckles cracking against bone and rib cages, drawing the crimson streams of life from their bodies. In an ideal world where Punz was fighting for his own mercy and not the money bags of his boss, Punz would have wasted the opposing man, smiling as he did so.

Punz always seemed to gain stamina the more he was battered, thriving off of the blood pooling in his teeth or streaming down the side of his head. In bare-knuckle matches, he was almost unrecognizable in his blood lust.

The bell chimed again, the rounds moving quicker as Punz pretended to be worn out from the weaker jabs of his competitor. You chuckled to yourself, a smirk settling on your lips as he rolled his shoulders. His expression tilted towards you, seemingly noticing your amusement as he fought not to grin himself.

Punz launched his fist into his opponent’s face, blood gushing instantly from the man’s nose as Punz hammered another blow into his torso. The man retaliated by driving his elbow into Punz’s stomach before throwing his knuckles into Punz’s jaw. Punz’s t-shirt clung to his sweat-drenched body, the thought of peeling him out of those clothes later in the night made your skin prickle with goosebumps. His messy hair and concentrated eyes were allusions of unadulterated sin as he brushed the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the thread of blood trickling down his chin from his re-busted lip.

Punz knew to wear down, letting the man knock him against the ropes, Punz’s light eyes looking up at you with nearly a breath between the two of you. “Good boy,” you stated, only loud enough for him to hear. His eyebrow quirked at your words to combat the cocky grin wanting to break through his tough façade with your praise. He stood up straighter and submitted to losing as his competitor landed another punch.

After the fight, you indulged in the sound of your heels clicking against the staircase as you moved back up to the shop, the area quiet and desolate after the cockroaches had scampered away back into their crevices. You turned, starting down the long hallway towards the locker room, grabbing the First Aid kit off the wall on your way. The envelope of money felt heavy in your hand, its manilla coloring almost too obvious against your suited attire.

You pushed the door open with your foot, peering down one of the rows of lockers before spotting Punz, yawning slightly as he pulled off his shirt, revealing various old-style tattoos that matched the ones painted across his knuckles. Whenever you saw him in this state, you silently thanked George for his hours of work and steady hand.

Punz’s eyes perked up as you entered the room; the familiar sight of you ready to patch up his wounds brought a content smile to his bruised features. “How’d I do, dove?” He coaxed looking up at you as he sat on the dividing bench. His voice was raspy and deep from exhaustion.

You gave him a small smile, tossing your jacket on the other side of him and taking his face in your hand, pressing your lips against his briefly. Your nose brushed his as you placed a kiss on his cheek. “So good,” you hummed. He moved to straddle the bench as you sat in front of him, digging into the aid kit.

Before you could even start in on his wounds, his hands were snaking up your legs to grip your thighs, pulling you closer to him on the bench. You propped your knee against his, taking one of his hands and dabbing away the dried blood on his knuckles as he dug his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin as he took in your scent, his lips pressing against your neck before he unclasped the top few buttons of your shirt. His other hand moved to press against your freshly exposed skin, teeth nibbling at your ear lobe.

You let out a quiet giggle at his antics, moving your head to brush against his cheek and shrug him off. “Cut it out. You’ll distract me,” you muttered, stifling the obvious grin in your tone.

He let out a low chuckle, moving your hair out of the way before settling in the crook of your neck again, hand moving to wrap around your waist and draw you closer. “There’s no way. You’re too stubborn,” he jested, his stubble tickling your chest as he nibbled at the sensitive skin on your throat.

Once you finished with his hands, you moved onto his face, tending to the small cuts and scrapes. Punz continued his own form of clean-up as he pressed his lips against the inside of your wrist. You knew he was coming off of his fight high and you were waiting on him to rag you about wincing during some of the harder hits. He got off on the idea that your calm and indifferent surface cracked when it came to him.

His hands hooked around the back of your knees, tugging you practically into his lap as you rolled your eyes. His fingers untucked your shirt, slipping between the material and your skin as his lips traveled the length of your jaw. His blunt nails raked down your back, his neediness unmasked by the slight roll of his hips against yours.

You dropped what you were working on, running your fingers into his blond hair as he moaned against your skin. You moved your legs to wrap around his waist, letting him grip onto your hips and press you against his body. He sealed his lips against yours, hungrily kissing you with a groan. You tugged on his hair, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

His fingers unbuttoned the rest of your shirt, slipping it off your shoulders as your teeth moved to dig into his shoulder. His hands moved to tug your pants down your thighs. You pushed him back against the bench, balancing yourself on his lap as you settled his hands on your thighs, leaning down to kiss him again.

He gripped onto your hips, driving you to grind against him, a moan of his hand slipping through your lips in praise. Your fingers raked down his chest as you ground your hips against him, making him bite his lips to keep himself quiet.

He pushed himself into you, making you groan as you adjusted to his size, hungry for more friction. As you rolled your hips, his hands moved to your chest. You pulled his arm towards you, pressing your lips to the tattoo across his wrist in your handwriting. "You did so well tonight, baby," you cooed, earning a moan from him at your praise. "I'm so proud of you."

You leaned down, swallowing his lustful noises and you pressing your lips against his as you thrust against him. The tension from the night and the sight of him submitting to you completely.

His head tipped back against the wood, his hips swirling against yours as his mouth opened with a slight whimper. You clenched around him, feeling him throb inside of you. You bit back a smile, watching how easy it was to get him off as his cheeks flushed, a lazy grin on his face as you moved on top of him. "Fuck look how much you want me," you mocked, his hands moving to dig into your hips.

His brows furrowed as he mumbled your name, making you pick up your pace. "Shit, don't stop," he nearly begged.

You curled your hips, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. "You deserve it, my good boy," you husked, tongue flattening against his collarbone as he moaned at the feeling.

He pushed himself to sit up, giving you a new angle as you drove him deeper into you, thrusting against his body and tugging at his hair. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, quietly pleading out your name as if he were confessing his sins to you.

His coarse hands dug into your back, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as your head fell back, moaning about how good he was making you feel.

It didn't take long for him to finish, his hot seed spreading between your legs as he groaned darkly in your ear. You combed your fingers through his hair, letting him roll his hips against yours and ride out his high.

Dream kicked his feet up on Techno’s desk, popping a few jelly beans in his mouth from his position on the other side of Sapnap, the bone tattoos on his fingers making you slightly grateful for Punz's ink choices. Sapnap leaned his head back against the edge of his chair, closing his eyes tiredly as you crossed your legs, flipping through one of the magazines that Techno had stacked in the corner of his office. Punz flexed his hands, still sore from the previous night’s fight, as he watched your skirt ride up your thighs a few centimeters.

The office was silent between the four of you, waiting for the man in charge after he’d called all of you in for an “emergency meeting.” Punz looked over your shoulder at what you were reading and you angled yourself to share the magazine with him, trying to ignore the tension he was building between the two of you as his thigh brushed yours.

The bag of jelly beans in Dream’s pocket made shuffling noises as he moved closer to whisper something to Sapnap, making him chuckle softly. The door swung open, sending the four of you on your feet as Techno’s secretary rattled off what was on his docket for the day. He ran his fingers through his short pink hair, eyes zoning out slightly as he took a seat behind his desk before thanking the woman and sending her on her way. He motioned for all of you to sit.

“My anxiety is through the roof, I just need to know if I’m in trouble first, Tech,” Dream started in, making Punz’s eyes roll and you to let out a small laugh.

Techno began to feather through some of the papers on his desk, pulling on his glasses. His t-shirt flexed against his muscular arms. You were surprised to see him in casual clothes in the middle of the week, but you figured he had plans with Sapnap after the meeting. “No, you’re fine, Dream.”

Dream chewed on one of the jelly beans. “Are you sure, because I can’t figure out why I’d be in here. Like, I’m just,” he paused, leaning forward to look at you before snapping his fingers a few times searching for a word. “What do you call it?”

You scoffed. “A floater. Snap at me again and I’ll break your dick off,” you bit, making Punz subtly cover his mouth to conceal his grin.

Dream winked at you. “Sounds like one hell of a handjob,” he quipped back without missing a beat.

“Dream, shut the fuck up,” Sapnap sighed, looking at Techno as if to urge him to continue. Dream snickered at Sapnap.

Techno cleared his throat. “Okay, now that that’s out of our system,” he pulled a page from the stack. “Dream, I’m giving you more matches to take some of the weight off of Punz.”

You tilted your head. “What?” Techno’s gaze shifted to you as if commanding you to elaborate. “Punz makes you the most money out of all of them. You’re losing profit with Dream.” You weren’t going to sit idly by and let your lover get knocked down a peg. Especially, not for Dream to step up in his place.

Techno nodded. “It looks bad on my part if one of my fighters dies in the middle of a match though, doesn’t it?”

“It’s illegal underground fighting. He knows the risks-” Punz reached over to cover your mouth.

He sighed. “That sounds fine. No less than three a week, though.”

Dream let out a low whistle. “Damn, she let you borrow your balls just for this?”

Punz turned his head to him, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “Hmmm. What does that bracelet say, sweet boy?” Sapnap laughed at Punz’s comment, making Dream punch his arm. Techno shook his head at all of you, settling his glasses on top of his head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“You guys are all simps,” Techno murmured to end the discussion. “Sapnap, I have a new model I want you to test out. Punz, I’m leaving the shop to the two of you while I’m gone.” He gestured between you and Punz before tilting his head to Dream. “I mean this with the utmost respect but, go mutilate your body or something at George’s. I don’t trust you and Punz in the same room for more than ten minutes.”

You snorted and Dream shrugged at his words. As you all stood to leave, Sapnap and Techno began to discuss his new car modifications. “Hey, Dream. Can you get my name?” You teased and he pinched your cheek.

“Right above my ass because I know you’ll be staring at it anyway,” he jested. Punz moved to stand behind Techno’s desk, flipping through his account book. His knuckle tattoos flexed as his fingers searched for a specific tab.

You sighed. “Finally, I’ll have something to look at,” you countered, biting back a smirk. Dream mocked a pained expression before heading out the door. You turned back to Punz, walking behind Techno’s desk as well, your hands running along his black jacket. “You’re quiet today,” you muttered, fingers looping through his thin silver chain to draw it from beneath his shirt. You’d bought it for him for your anniversary a few years prior.

He turned towards you, his deadpan look sending shivers down your spine as his hand wrapped around your wrist. “You think I can’t defend myself?” He dared, eyes flickering with lust and heat as he looked at you. His hand moved to hold your chin, your breath hitching as his lips threatened to brush against yours. “I have half a mind to teach you a lesson for that.” His voice was mellow and low as he spoke to you, making your ears burn red.

His thumb moved to brush against your lip, your mouth opening to take his digit between your teeth almost instinctively. There was no way any of the guys would take you seriously if they knew how whipped you actually were for Punz, which was most of the reason why he let you lead when you were around them.

The other half of him liked when you were scary and in charge.

Punz knocked you against the desk, your torso hitting the wood as you bit back a giggle, gripping onto the edge of the wood as he kicked your legs apart. “Speaking for me like you’re my master,” he jabbed, pushing your skirt further up your waist and grinding against you. He tsked as you moaned, pressing your cheek to the grain, shoving Techno’s pen display to the side.

He gripped the collar of your shirt, snapping a few of your buttons. “Christ, Luke,” you moaned, voice uneven and out of breath. “I’m gonna run out of shirts,” you barely whined.

His lips pressed against your shoulder, nose moving to brush against behind your ear. “Are you complaining, pet?” He hissed, hand settling on the edge beside your own, grinding his hips against yours. You shook your head violently, making him lean off you. The sound of his belt dropping to the floor behind you made your head spin, your knees weak.

His hand brushed over your waistband, dipping below your skirt and smacking the curve of your ass. You whimpered at the impact, heart racing as your body throbbed for his attention. "Filthy slut. You like when I punish you, don't you?" Punz chided, pressing his knee between your legs and knotting his fingers into your hair. You rolled back against his thigh almost as if by instinct, hungry for his antics.

His palm smacked you again, gripping onto the sensitive, burning skin with his strong hand as if it were a trophy for him. Truth be told, you were his trophy, especially when you gave in like you were.

As you heard his zipper, your face flushed, gripping onto the wood as you readied yourself, submitting to Punz's mercy with a grin on your face.

Punz Tag List: (to join, please follow this link :))

@more-like-reyna @froggyy06 @drunkpumpkincake @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @alm334 @acidluvs @bbigbbrainn @generallysleepdeprived @froggerrrr @ribbitsworld @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @bobbyftmydad @twist3dtinkerbell @book-of-anarchy

[pure-kirarin]

The flowers of evil - Sanji x f!reader (Hanahaki)

A/N : Hiii ! thanks a lot for this request. I had a lot of fun writing it ! I didn’t know what hanahaki was before. I really adored it. It’s such a beautiful metaphore for one-sided love. I hope that you will like this ! 

Hanahaki definition : a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated (wiki)

Warnings : Angst (but happy ending) - Unrequited love

____________________

You forgot when it all started, when these doomed flowers of evil began to blossom allover your body, asphyxiating you, extracting the air from your lungs. The mysterious sickness took over your body, metamorphosing it into a garden of murderous flowers.

Red spider lilies, a field of them, encercled your frail limbs in your sleep, strangling you almost to death, sealing your agony. It was a slow process, a sadistic sickness that savoured each second of torture.

But what was worse ? The pain of the thrones scratching the delicate skin or the pain of a love that was doomed to fail ?

As the flowers grew, you simply withered. Watered by your tears, every day, every breath bringing you closer to an end. For a crime you weren't guilty of, for a love you have never asked for.

« If someone told me that I'd die this way...I would've killed myself. »

And it was true. Your paths crossed with the Strawhats by a mysterious fate. They have found you just after your ship got wrecked by the marine.

You were the only survivor. How ironic.

It was as if you survived just to die to that illness.

The evil flowers have spared you to savour the pain.

Since there were no options, you had to stay with them, but little by little they grew on you just as you grew on them. But someone stood out. His kindness was something you have never encountered before. It was all in the eyes, in his laugh, in the way he treated you like you were the only woman on earth. Oh god, it seemed perfect, too perfect ?

« I am so happy to be his friend ! »

Why couldn't you settle for that ? Why did you want more ?

It was greed and yearning. Craving a happiness that wasn't yours. He wasn't one to give his heart to one woman. You knew it too well, but then, why did you want otherwise ?

The heart wants what it wants. You stopped looking for a reason.

It all started by a habit, a ritual. Coffee in the morning, no sugar, no breakfast.

The cook always woke up earlier to prepare food for the crew. You on the other hand, weren't a breakfast person.

Until you met him.

« Y/N-chan, you're up early today too. » He said, back turned to you, pouring coffee in a cup.

The smell of the coffee invaded the kitchen. You were sitting in front of the table, hair in a mess, yawning. His voice was soft and comforting ; a morning breeze.

«I like waking up early. I get some peaceful moments before everyone else wakes up. » You chuckle.

He puts the cup in front of you. Not only the cup, also a plate with a pastry on it ; a croissant. You look at Sanji, confused ; he knew that you didn't eat for breakfast.

« I made this especially for you, (Y/N)-chan. It's bad to skip breakfast. »

You still remember the buttery richness of the croissant, the face he made as your teeth sunk into it, Just try it for me, he said.  And he was right. It was delicious. Was it his skill as a chef, or his encouraging smile that stimulated your appetite ?

Your appetite for something else grew simultaneously.

The long nights you have spent contemplating the stars on the deck. The times he taught you how to use a knife and how you almost cut your finger. And the sweet, sweet taste of croissant balancing the bitterness of coffee, like a bandaid on a deadly wound.

If you didn't love me, why did you do all of this ?

Sometimes, when your chest couldn't take it anymore, you were visited by that thought, that cruel thought. You blamed him. How couldn't you ? It was his kindness that made you fall. It was his gentle smile that was going to be the end of you. And yet, what hurt most wasn't the flowers that grew in your lungs, it was the pain of not being loved in return. The pain of not being good enough for a man like him.

At first, it was a few petals that you coughed. You didn't understand, but when he was closer to you, you felt so light, when he was further, it felt like death. Your yearning for him grew, your body was moved by a fever that made you wish to be dead.

It took you a few days to figure out that the sickness that was gnawing you from the inside like a worm was love sickness.

You knew the condition, it was hanahaki, you have read about it in some fairytales. How could it be real ? Its victim has flowers grow inside of them, grow till it kills them silently.

You tried to hide it, but how when you had a month to live at best ? Everyone started to notice your pale complexion.

You were decaying by the day. In front of you, you had the disease and the cure.

« (Y/N)-chan » His voice. His damned voice making you fall even more. You turn to the side, facing the wall, resting in your bed. You refused to look at him. Did you really loathe him for not loving you back ?

Seeing that you didn't answer, he just keeps talking,

« These are beautiful flowers.. » He says as he looks at the red spider lilies resting in a porcelain vase. Would he say the same if he saw the flowers on your body ?...

« You should tell me if you don't feel alright...You're different those days. You don't even eat anymore. You can count on me. I know that you will feel better if you open up.

-You know nothing at all, Sanji »

You cut him off and sit down on the bed. You were just wearing a nightgown that showed your bruised arms. Fine cuts caused by the flowers that grew on your skin were displayed. You had to snatch them violently multiple times a day.  

« You know nothing at all, you said that these flowers were beautiful. Do you even know what they mean..Sanji ? »

He looks at you in disbelief, he holds your arm, looking at the cuts. His touch feels like ice and fire on the bruised skin. His thumb caresses softly a wound, making you shiver. Don’t touch me in that way or I will fall even more...

-Who did this to you ?!

The bruises were like ones of ropes ; it was the stem of the roses that would encircle your arms in your sleep. You snatched off your arm, how could you tell him that it was him ?

You did this to me Sanji.

- It's none of your business...Come on. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you.

The words you spit out felt like poison and hurt him.  You didn't even dare looking in his eyes. Those cruel words, you said them so he goes away. To stop the suffering. His worrying looks hurt more as they emphasized your unrequited love. You put a hand on your lips, nauseous.

-(Y/N) ! This is serious. What is the matter with you ? You look sick. I'll call Chopper right now. You go rest.

He gets up and you follow him, almost falling on the ground. You hold his arm, head on his back.

-Don't go ! Please don't. I don't want anyone to see me like this. There isn't anything Chopper can do for me. I am done with all of this. I want it all to end.

[ If it hurts this much, why am I still in love with you ? If it pains me so much, enough to kill me, why does it have to be you ?

If only I have closed my eyes and let myself die that day. If only I died along with my comrades. I would have had a meaningful death.

But here I am, having to die of love.]

You stepped back and started caughing red petals. You put both your hands on your mouth trying to cover it. Sanji turns back, terrified. He didn't understand what was with you, his cheerful, gentle (Y/N)-chan. He didn't understand why you pushed him away like this, as if his fingers burned your skin. As if his mere sight was killing you.

-Don't look at me...Please...Sanji...Don't look. You fall to the ground, your head looking down and tears running down your cheeks. It pained him so much to see you in that state. The petals you were coughing looked like blood. It was stupid, he felt cruel to think that even in such a state you looked so delicate, a flower.

He held the hand that you had on your face and moved it away to take a look at your face, eyebrows frowned, an anger growing inside of him. So, you, his (Y/N)-chan was in love with a bastard that didn't love you back ? It was certain. He knew about this condition.

Hanahaki, a mythical disease born out of one-sided love.

-(Y/N)-chan...This is...

-Hanahaki. You whisper, you can't hide it anymore now, it's too late,

He holds you against his chest, now thorns growing around your body. And you thought that in that moment, you could die in his arms and you'd be happy. Maybe in another life, you thought, maybe in another universe you'll love me back. Maybe it's the price I have to pay for having you...

-Don't die on me. Please. I am sure that...That this bastard loves you back. I mean...You are a goddess, (Y/N). How could anyone...do this to you. Tsk. It makes me sick just to think of it. I'll go look for him and bring him right now ! Hell, I'll kill him if he doesn't love you back.

You have a bitter smile. The flowers grow more and more, you were now vomiting entiere flowers that fell into his lap. You held onto him tighter.

-It's impossible...He is...An idiot...He doesn't even notice and it's right in front of his eyes...

-It doesn't matter. Just tell me who and I wi-

-Why ?! Why do you keep being so kind to me ? Why did you do all of this ? Why are you so gentle, so caring ? Why did you care that I don't eat breakfast ? Why did you make sure I don't feel cold on the deck ? And most of all, why are you like this with all girls ? It kills me...bitter laugh.  Your kindness is killing me ! Don't act like this if you don't want girls to fall for you, you idiot ! Don't play with my feelings !

The blond man froze instantly. He has never imagined than a woman like you would fall for him, and to realize that you were suffering because of him left him in a loss of words. Him, Sanji, the lovecook, the man that devoted all of his existence to please women, those delicate creatures that he wasn't worthy of. The same Sanji was the reason of your distress and the object of your desire.

To feel desired to the point of death was flattering in a cruel way but also so foreign. He has convinced himself that no woman would love him and he was happy that way. It was enough for him to share the air that you breathe. But you were offering more ; a flower so pure, so delicate that his fingers could turn into dust.

-It's me that you love ?...

You didn't have any strenght left. You didn't answer. Your days were counted. You felt your chest getting lighter after confessing. It was relief. Words that had to be said.

-It's because of me that you were suffering so much...(Y/N)-chan...You...Wanted someone like me this much ?

He holds you tighter and the thorns sink in his skin, but he didn't care much, the pain that he was feeling inside was way bigger.

-I never thought that I deserved someone like you. I never thought that I deserved to be loved. It was enough for me to see you smile. But you are telling me that you are dying because I don't love you back ?...I would give up my life for you.  And because you want someone like me, because you love me this much, I will make you the happiest woman on earth.

It was at this moment that you made him realize, you, on the verge of death, that even a man like him could be loved ; A man that even his father didn't want.

Your eyes were veiled by tears, was he saying this only to mess with you further ? However, the flowers stopped from spreading, and the petals started fading away little by little.

-Sanji...You...I...

He puts a finger on your lips and just says with a smile ;

- (Y/N)-chan, thank you for loving me. For wanting me so bad...Nobody has every loved me the way you do...Nobody has ever loved me to death. 

He kisses your tears and adds ; 

-I love you too. 

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Going, Going, Gone (Spencer Reid x Reader) Chapter 5

Warnings: Mentions of death and injury/much angst

Word Count: 2k

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

-Spencers POV-

His heart stopped. There she was. Right there, if only he could climb through the screen and grab her, shielding her from further harm. He was angry, she looked so small, from what he could make out on the screen you were tied to a bed, bound by chains, blood and wounds scattered in different shapes and sizes over your almost naked body.

Spencer heard a gasp from behind him, turning he noticed JJ staring at the screen seeing exactly what he was. He didn’t have time to deal with peoples feelings, he just needed to figure out where his girl was and quickly. Emily had joined him back at the laptop.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was full of panic and hate. Then her eyes went wide when she heard Rossi’s voice travelling up the attic stairs.

“Spencer, did you find anything yet.” Spence turned to look at the man and then back at the screen, angling his body so it was in front of Rossi’s line of sight. Emily was trying to get him to go back down stairs but he was having none of it, pushing passed her to get to the source of the commotion. Spencer couldn’t bare to listen to the angry cries of his colleague, the angry, broken cries of a father. He was too focused on taking in everything he could, trying to look passed your broken and beaten down, still breathing body, to figure out if there was anything to lead them to you.

Spencer hit a button on his mobile, a direct line to Garcia who was anxiously waiting for anything back at her cyber lab.

“Go boy wonder what have you got for me.” Penelope’s joking voice faltered when Spencer informed her of their findings. He sent the video clip of Y/N over to Penelope to analyse further. Her voice quivering as she promised Spencer she’d be found.

Spencer took a look at the screen again, noticing marks up the algae covered walls. They were water marks, which told you how high the water sometimes flooded inside the building. He let Garcia know so she could narrow her search to a building that would be underground near water and it took her mere seconds to come back with a location.

“It’s an old underground bunker, the Unsubs father was some kind of doomsday preparation nut, it’s next to the Teal River, i’ve sent the exact location to your phones.” The team were out the door in seconds, hoping and praying that this is where they would find you alive. They needed to find you alive.

“Were coming for you sweetheart just hold on, were coming.” In that moment Spencer did something he never did, he prayed.

-Un-Subs POV-

“It’s almost time. Almost time to get rid of the girl. She put up a bigger fight than I thought she would. A few more stab wounds and cuts aught to do the trick, let her die slowly in her cell, die slowly just like my girl did. They will pay, they will all pay.”

-Your POV-

You coughed. You could hear that your breathing was getting worse and it felt like the air was slowly being sucked out of you. You knew you didn’t have long left. You would have liked to cry, feel sorry for yourself, for the fact that you’d never have a future with Spence, never see your father again and never see the team you called family again, but you were too dehydrated and your body couldn’t even function enough to produce a single drop. You slumped against the sticky cold wall, dry blood smeared across your face and in your hair. Your leg was still bleeding but you’d managed to stop it slightly by using some dirty cloth from the mattress you were sitting on. An infected leg was better than bleeding out.

Your eyes closed and you thought about Spencer. How his mind would be working over time trying to piece together the clues and find you before you met your demise. You wanted to believe they would find you in time but your hope was slowly fading away with your consciousness.

You thought about your father and how he’d been in the BAU for so long, founded it with your godfather Gideon, how it was basically his whole life, as well as you. You hoped that when you were gone he’d be able to move on, that he wouldn’t hurt for too long and hopefully one day he’d re-marry, god knows he could use a strong woman in his life after your mum died.

You thought about your friends.. family at the BAU. Your best friend Luke Alvez who treated you more like a little sister, always taking you under his wing and giving you advice even when you didn’t need it. You hoped he’d stay at the BAU, that if you died, it wouldn’t effect him too much and he’d be able to get back to some kind of normal life. You wish there was a way to tell him he could have your baseball card collection, he’d always wanted it. You laughed a little, a sad laugh, already grieving for the people you were going to lose. Thinking about all the things you still wanted to do in life. They say that when you die you life flashes before your eyes, they were wrong. It’s before that, it plays through your head like a movie, going over all the things you’d never get to see.

In your mind you pictured what your wedding day would be like. Spencer would want a small wedding full of close family and friends and you’d agree. The perfect setting your fathers large back garden, flowers everywhere, surrounded by the people you love. The gentle exchanging of rings and the kiss he would give you that would still make your toes curl even when you were old and grey.

Children. You wanted at least 4. You wanted so many children with Spencer because you knew he’d make the most amazing father, even if he’d be scared they’d carry the gene for schizophrenia. They’d have his curly hair and your eye colour, his calmness and his smarts while they had your artistic nature and kindness. They’d love to stay with Grandpa, who would tell them all kinds of stories of his time in the FBI, obviously leaving out the heavy stuff. Your friends would come over and you’d always have big dinners and get togethers, BBQ’s in the summer, your lives full of life and laughter and there would always be him. Right by your side. Your Spencer. You’d grow old together, still love each other as hard as you do now. Until your last breath. You pictured going out like the scene in the notebook, old and in each others arms. The world would always be right, if you had your Spencer Reid.

You could feel your breathing slowing, the sound of heavy footsteps running down the echoing corridor. It was too late. You were sure the Un-sub was coming to finish you off once and for all, leave you somewhere for your family to find, another body in another case the BAU would eventually solve. But it was too late for you. The door swung open and your eyes closed. The pain was gone and so were the chances of seeing your Spence one last time.

-Spencers POV-

The SUV’s came to a screeching halt outside the bunker. There was a gravelled path that lead towards the doors that were hidden behind shrubs. It was one of those lucky by chance things, the team arrived and the Un-sub was outside, about to go into the bunker. While Prentiss and JJ read him his rights and stuck him in the back of the car, Spencer, Rossi and Luke threw open the metal doors and made their way inside cautiously. Spencer wanted to throw all caution to the wind. Guaranteed the two other men he was with wanted to as well. All they wanted to do was get their girl back. But sometimes looks could be deceiving and more danger could be lurking up ahead. In this case, there wasn’t.

Spencer ran down the long echoing corridor, medics behind him. The cells were empty apart from one.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me? Were here Darling just hold on okay, i’m here baby i’m here.” Spencers voice was full of panic as the three men used all their strength to open the tightly sealed bunker door. Spencer could faintly see through the porthole door, the grime and condensation obstructing his view slightly. You weren’t moving. He started to panic even more and when the door hissed and flung open it was if the world was moving in slow motion.

You were pale, eyes closed, dry blood across your practically naked body. Dirty cloth wrapped around your blood soaked thigh and cuts littered your body in all shapes and sizes. One of your hands was handcuffed to a railing next to the rusty spring covered bed and you looked smaller than you’d ever looked before. Spencer was on you in seconds. Luke had bolt cutters and had snipped the handcuff from the railing. Rossi was frozen in his spot, his daughter lifeless in front of him. Spencer lifted you carefully in his arms laying you on the ground.

“She has no pulse! She’s not breathing! She’s not breathing!” He started pumping your chest, 1,2,3,4…. check, no sign of breathing. He held your nose and blew into your mouth twice, Luke took over chest compressions as the paramedics set up the defibrillator. More Paramedics arrived, pushing the two FbI Agents away so they could work on you more thoroughly. Some tended to your still bleeding cute, needles attached to you for IV bags and then.

“Everyone clear!” The defibrillator sounded up. The shocking noise and the thud your body made against the cold floor seemed to echo all around. They shocked you a total of four times before they managed to get a weak pulse.

The ambulance ride wasn’t long, especially now that you had a police escort and most of the flashing lights in the city. You died and came back 3 times in the ambulance. Spencer hadn’t stopped crying since he found you bleeding and lifeless.

On arrival to the hospital you were instantly taken to surgery, some of the stab wounds too severe to be treated normally. The BAU occupied the waiting room, Rossi sat numbly staring at the floor, Spencer paced back and fourth, Luke kept on asking the Dr for updates every ten minutes and the rest of the team just waited for any news at all.

——————————————————————————————————

-Your POV-

You hadn’t remembered your cell being this bright. Maybe your captor had taken you outside. Maybe you hadn’t died in time to be spared of the cruel torture that was about to follow. What was that dreadful beeping sound? You blinked, your eyes taking their time to adjust to your surroundings. You were defiantly somewhere else and you started to panic, the beeping got louder and faster. You tried to sit up.

“Spencer! Spencer! Wake up she’s awake!” You couldn’t make out the voice clearly, it sounded like… your dad? But how? Were you dreaming. Maybe this was your body in its final stages playing a cruel trick on your subconscious.

You tried to talk, but your throat was dry and you were hit with a wave of pain. Someone pressed ice chips to your lips, slowly but surely you accepted them, the coolness coating your vocal cords.

“Please, please tell m-me this isn’t a d-dream.” A tear leaked from the corner of your eye and rolled down your cheek only to be kissed away by… your Spencer.

“Baby, it’s not a dream, I found you, we found you. You’re safe now and I’m never letting you go again.”

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

Welp, There we go. The final chapter! I hope you liked this mini series! If you like Criminal minds or want me to write for anyone else.. maybe Luke Alvez... let me knowwww i'll consider it ;) Please Reblog/follow/like <3333

Tag List:

@waddles03

@nocturnalherb16

@reidscardigan

[bigpandahero]

The legacy of appetence（the translation of 欲望遗产 from Lofter written by 此人已死）

Original link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/post/1cc28a98_1cb209a44

Original author：此人已死（from lofter）

Home link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/

Authorized reprint translation.

thank to @ask-ivanbraginsky for your help!

chapter1:

July 20, 2017

The culprit

 July 20, 2017

 Potato .beef. onion.

 Every time he took something off the shelf, Wang Yao would cross out a word on the list. He looked for discounted goods in various barcodes, a pen and paper in hand. He pushed his shopping cart as he walked around the supermarket. Until seeing the last thing on the list, wine.

 Wang Yao went out to a supermarket very rarely.This time he went out because the refrigerator was empty, like his brain. He entered, throwing a coin and heard a Do re mi.

 He walked to the shelf picking out a 700ml bottle of vodka and checked the price, cautious as a housewife, he finally chose the 50ml "baby bottle" next to him. 

The checkout cashier was chewing bubble gum. They looked at him with disdain, a look that Wang YAO was accustomed to. This kind of look had been haunting him since he became an adult. 

He looked down at the gray tracksuit he was wearing, and his plush slippers of the Sesame Street cartoon character. He looked like a hapless boy with a drunkard father. 

He swept the colorful over-packaged goods into a sturdy plastic shopping bag—a blue squirrel logo was printed on it, its face squeezed out of shape by a box of cereal.

 What kind of perversion will paint the squirrel blue.

 Wang Yao heard the cashier from behind turn his head and whisper something to his colleague. He carried the plastic bag and walked out of the automatic door blankly. The toy monkeys on both sides shouted "Welcome".

 He walked home, passing by an open park. There were a few young people playing baseball on the lawn. He sat on the promenade smoking a cigarette and unscrewed a bottle of ice sprite. He drank down half the bottle in one breath, then allowed the carbon dioxide to tumble in his stomach for a while. 

He took out the wine bottle that he struggled to find from the plastic bag, imagined that the small metal bottle cap was the heavenly spirit cap of some heinous person, opened it with his teeth in a crisp "bom" and poured it in happily. His body began to get hot, sweating from his back in the 28-degree weather. The polyester cloth stuck to the skin, uncomfortably. He threw his leg anxiously-in the season when others were wearing short-sleeved T-shirts, he was still wearing long-sleeved trousers. In times like this he thought of the Russian, and began to scold him furiously in his mind. He silently cursed, mouthing the words that went along with his thoughts. He was suddenly interrupted, he snapping back to reality. "Hey! Damn gay! Help us pick up the ball!”

everal young people gathered together maliciously and whispered. They made nasty gestures and sneered unscrupulously in Wang Yao's direction. 

Fuck.

 He pressed the cigarette butt on the bench, swept away the soot from his thigh and raised his butt, bending over to pick up the baseball on the grass. He threw it at the crowd fiercely, then made a more wretched gesture. 

My paramour could screw all your fucking “balls” off.

 Wang Yao shook the plastic bottle in his hand and heard the remaining liquid hit the wall of the bottle with a hollow echo.

 He finally took the plastic bag and went on his way, stopping to place the wine bottle down by a homeless man who laid lifeless on the side of the road against the wall.

 He returned to the white-roofed house and passed by the neighbor's beautiful fence with a few swaggering violets planted in it. He inadvertently looked inside, and happened to meet the eyes of the Labrador. Even though he had moved in a month ago and had returned his flying disk a dozen times, the dog still didn't recognize him, damn it. 

While the dog annoyingly barked, he glanced at the empty mailbox, then, as timid as a thief, he unscrew the door handle of his home. 

The person inside the door was standing by the shoe cabinet. They smiled, watching him with a pair of indifferent purple eyes exposed under ash-gold hair.

"You came back early." Wang Yao greeted dryly. "There is nothing I need to do today.  You didn't tell me you would go out—you went out again in slippers?" Wang Yao threw the key under the nose of the man who was nagging like a woman, and sat on the steps to change shoes .

the key has a key chain of panda holding a bamboo hanging on . It hurt the man's face. Wang Yao was very gloating, even though this man named Ivan Braginsky was his lover.

The keychain was the first and last time they went to the amusement park together and won with a gun. To be precise, Wang Yao won with a gun himself.

Because Ivan doesn’t have a good temper to wait for him, but Wang Yao is as stubborn as a cow.He seems to be possessed by a demon and must win the key chain.

In the end, he took the key chain from the boss who were smile flatteringly for $25 in front of the game booth which  you would cost 2.50 dollars each time on shooting. Wang Yao believes that the main reason for the inaccuracy of shooting was the sexual harassment of him by Ivan during this period. Ivan—Standing upright and stomping his feet impatiently, like a dishonest vibrator, he patted Wang Yao's ass and yelled in his ear: "You fucking under the noses of these men pouched and played with a toy gun for more than half an hour, just for a piece of junk plastic!"

Of course, no one was able to help Wang Yao in the end. He was thrown into the toilet cubicle by the Russian man by the collar. It is estimated that all the men who went to the amusement park to go to the toilet that day could hear him being fucked. Now he still could memorize the smell of air freshener choking in his throat as long as he saw the panda.

Ivan turned a blind eye to Wang Yao's innocuous violence. He always indulges him in all the trivial things, and people who are not familiar with him would think that he is a good gentleman.

Ivan is being troubled by something more important-a headache gnaws at his brain like a devil, and his alcohol addiction has blurred his consciousness. He lifted the plastic bag on the ground and pressed it against the wall to hold himself who was about to fall. It took a while, and then he stood up straight again. At first, his steps were still a little staggering, but soon, he began a brisk pace, walked to the refrigerator, hummed a few unexplained Russian, twisted the refrigerator in the shape of the Eiffel Tower before opening the refrigerator door. He snorted impatiently, and tossed the food into the cold storage as before.

"You forgot to throw away the paper notes."

Wang Yao followed him to the living room, listening to unfamiliar Russian in his ears, slowly translating it into English in his head, and lightly taking a glass of tap water for himself.

"So, where's the wine?"

Wang Yao put down the glass, and the bottom of the glass touched the marble table ,letting out a crisp sigh. He stared at the swirling vortex in the cup, cold sweat was oozing clearly on his forehead, but his bones creaked in excitement. Before exhaling a breath in his chest, he answered the question from the person behind him in Russian: "I have drunk it all”.

All the words he didn't have time to say were stuffed back into his throat by the strong, opaque plastic bag with the blue squirrel on it. Ivan's forearm muscles bulged, like the thighs of a carnivore running. He tightened the mouth of the plastic bag, twisted the other's fragile neck, and dragged Wang Yao's struggling body up the stairs.

The process was extremely unsatisfactory and annoying, and the alcohol addiction made him more irritable, so he pressed Wang Yao's head and slammed twice on the newly laid pine-green wallpaper. The plastic stopped the splashing blood and the blood turned into a dark shadow on the back of the blue squirrel. Wang Yao who was rebelling was like a kitten in a bag, weak and vulnerable.

Wang Yao was thrown on the soft bed. A thick tape was wrapped around his mouth with a plastic bag to seal the last oxygen. He tried to break it with his fingers, but it was useless.

His hands were grabbed by Ivan, and he couldn't see anything. He just guessed from this strength that Ivan’s knees were pressing on his arms. It was very painful and heavy, and even the thought of resisting was blocked. Pressed under the body. Wang Yao gradually calmed down and even breathed regularly. The sound around him fluctuated in the dark with his breathing. The sound of fine plastic fragments no longer pierced the ears, but turned into a regular pulse. His head was soaked in carbon dioxide, warm and damp, squeezed in a narrow film, he looked at the only light circle in the dimness-the hands tore the uterus, holding the weak head, playing with the balance of life and death.

He finished his dying ejaculation at the end of suffocation.

Ivan helped Wang Yao get rid of the tape that bound him on his head. The tape tore off a few long black hairs, connecting to the coagulated blood entangled in the hair. He took off Wang Yao's clothes, revealing his familiar and obsessed body.

The setting sun flicked through Wang Yao's eyes, reflecting the golden light of bronze.The black hair scattered beside the beautiful face, constituting the most mysterious color in the oil painting, blurring the limitation of gender. The naked body was covered with old scars and fresh bruises, wounds which were cracking and the redness that was swollen. The body was still beautiful, graceful and weak.The bloody scars made him show the power of life, making him no longer a flawless corpse.

Those scars were incomplete by Ivan, but he still deserved to be the culprit, although most of the time Wang Yao had to take the responsibility. Yao liked enraged him, teasing him, and sometimes even gave that handsome face to two resounding slap. Even if he knew that Ivan was insane, he would still deliberately drink up the wine at home, hiding it, observing the person in front of him turn into another devil who would chase his butt to strangle him.After waking up, decorate all with a terrible sex until dawn.

“Stepan? "

"Damn it, don't call his name in front of me."

"It hurts a bit.”

Wang Yao stretched out his thin arms to block his lover's head, kissing his soft and warm lips, counting the fluffy golden eyelashes, and exhaled a few silly love words in his blended breath.

He took the initiative to open his legs to cater to the opponent's hot desire, the erect penis had already oozes transparent liquid, squeezing into his soft and moist flesh cavity.

Wang Yao cocked his hips, his legs were like two gluttonous pythons, tied tightly to Ivan's waist. His body shook with the opponent's movements, his nails sinking into the tight muscles, and he scratched red marks on the wide back.

 He uttered a few high-pitched obscene words under the man, and was sobbed by the top of his penis, then he could no longer speak a complete word.

 Ivan's hand passed through Wang Yao's hair and kissed his favorite eyebrows and narrow neck. His five fingers hooked the other's lovely fingers, palms pressing against each other, and the vent of lust was more delicate than the girl's mind.

Car lights flashed outside the window, and a few beams of moonlight leaked in. The silver rings on the two ring fingers complemented each other in the dimly lit room, calling for each other.

 After exhausting sex, they slept with each other like two sleepy beasts.

 It was early the next morning when Wang Yao opened his eyes again, and the alarm clock on the bedside stopped at number five. The people around him slept quietly in the dark, their sturdy bodies undulating with their breathing. Even in his sleep, this person's body was shrouded in a heavy sense of oppression, like a huge animal.

“I want to change the bed. "

 Wang Yao stared at the mosquitoes on the ceiling intently. "This bed is yelling like a dead pig."

 After waiting for a long time, no one responded to him, and he felt a little bad. Although he had predicted the result, he still had illusions and was rather self-deceiving and tragic.

 He ignored the pain everywhere in his body, got up abruptly, grabbed the gray-golden hair.He picked up the heavy head from the soft pillow, and forced the purple eyes to look at him.

Then he heard a clear bark rolling out of the man's throat.

 Fuck.

Discloseable information:Both Wang Yao and Ivan are American citizens.

Yao has a bad temper, so Ivan can bear it if he can bear it.

Ivan is a patient with multiple personality disorders.

The first personality is Stepan, who usually only appears after being addicted to alcohol and drunk, so it appears for a short time. It is a personality with no emotions and absolute violence. He does not love Wang Yao, and he does not love anyone. He only speaks Russian, will conceal his spasms with his fists, and has a very serious obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The second personality is a dog. His name is "Los", which means "frogfish" in Russian. Only appears out of guilty after Stepan caused irreparable pain to the loved one , so the frequency of appearance is extremely low. It means that Ivan has few guilty, because the master character is not a good guy either.Ivan and Stepan hate each other, so they don't communicate with each other, and they don't share memories.

------------------------tbc.-----------------

[highfaelucien]

Heyy

90. Dance for Rhycien?

Please send me whump Prompts

(Heck yes, it's time for The Gay. Have some Under the Mountain Angst. Slight warning for mind control/influence (Rhys to Lucien) It's short-lived, demanded by Amarantha, and doesn't last long)

Old Time's Sake

"Ah, Lucien, nice of you to finally join us," Amarantha drawled from her place upon the carved throne, sitting above the writhing fae bodies, watching with that grim pleasure Rhys had come to loathe so intensely.

Turning, he spotted Lucien, long red hair gleaming in the dancing faelight, barely concealed loathing etched in every line of his angular face.

The exiled Autumn prince hadn't been seen for several days now. Not since the brutal whipping at Tamlin's hand that had left him unconscious and, if rumours were to be believed, near death.

From the look of spite in Lucien's remaining eye, it seemed he had spat in death's face for the simple pleasure of being able to glare at Amarantha once more.

"You're looking a little grim there, princeling," Amarantha crooned, "Why don't you join your little human friend? Dance with her."

She gestured towards Feyre, who had drunk the wine Rhys had provided her and accompanied him to the dance as he did each night. Her body moved with surprising grace, considering she was human.

A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw as he watched Feyre. He turned that simmering hatred on Rhys instead, fire blazing in that russet eye. Rhys just smirked at him and winked. Lucien's hands balled themselves into fists at his sides.

It was clearly an effort for him to project even a facade of civility as he turned his gaze back to Amarantha and said, "I fear my skills are not equal to those already here. I wouldn't like to offend you with my display, lady."

Amarantha tapped one sharpened nail on the arm of her throne. Few caught the suppressed flinch in Lucien's body at the sight of it, but Rhys saw, and looked away, disgusted.

"You will offend me deeply if you refuse me again, Lucien," she said, voice soft and dangerous now.

"I'm sure we both know how much I'd hate to do that," Lucien growled, and Rhys found himself closing his eyes.

Lucien never had learned to keep his mouth shut. There seemed to be some self-destructive part of him that enjoyed snapping at those who could snap him in half with a wink.

Silence enveloped the hall for a few, pounding heartbeats. Then Amarantha turned her head sharply, all the false air of a pleasant queen amongst her court banished.

"Rhysand," she said, darkly, "Make him dance for me."

"It would of course be my pleasure," Rhys said smoothly, nudging Feyre to one side and rising from the plump cushions he'd been reclining on, keeping an eye on her as she reveled blindly.

Lucien turned to him, his jaw set, his eyes hard. There was no fear in those eyes. Many here underestimated Lucien, as he didn't possess the same power as his father or brothers. Rhys thought they were fools. It took an extraordinary level of strength and courage to face him that way. Not to mention his return here in the first place.

"Little Lucien," he clucked, aloud, shaking his head, "You know it's not polite to refuse a lady."

Inside his head, he murmured, I'm sorry.

Lucien's eyes flashed, almost giving him away with his moment of confusion. Then Rhys swept away his will, and forced him to perform for Amarantha. Just as he was forced to perform for her.

At once, Lucien's face contorted with pain. He shouldn't have come here tonight. Tamlin had no doubt ordered him, the cowardly bastard, unwilling to come himself to see Feyre. Lucien's magic had been suppressed, and he had been denied any kind of healer. His body had been forced to heal at the rate of a human.

It didn’t take long for the wounds to re-open, blood staining the handsome tunic Lucien wore.

Amarantha underestimated Lucien, too. Rhys could sense he would refuse to give out until this killed him, just to spite the bitch. But she wouldn’t know that. Once Lucien was breathing heavily, and finally cracked to let out a whimper of pain, Rhys enveloped his mind in darkness and allowed him to slump to the floor, unconscious.

“Pathetic,” Amarantha hissed, as Lucien’s brothers, clustered around her throne as usual, sniggered and jeered their approval.

She waved a dismissive hand at Rhys, “Get him out of my sight,” she commanded, already bored, turning away to watch Feyre with amusement.

“At once, lady,” Rhys said.

Snapping his fingers, he lifted Lucien’s limp form into the air then carried him down to the cells, where he would return Feyre to in a few hours.

Setting him down far more gently than he would have dared to under Amarantha’s watchful gaze, Rhys gazed down at the fae male he had almost let himself love, once upon a time.

His fingers traced the scar over his eye with sadness. Then gently unbuttoned the blood-stained, ruined tunic, and examined the mess of his back. Torn, raw flesh, weeping fresh blood once more after Amarantha’s forced dancing.

It would have been worse if you hadn’t put a stop to it when you did, he tried to tell himself. Anger flared as another thought crept into his mind, And it would have been a lot better if Tamlin hadn’t sent him to that fucking party.

The High Lord of Spring had to know how much Amarantha enjoyed using Lucien as her plaything. Torturing him was becoming something she enjoyed almost as much as she enjoyed torturing him.

Sighing, Rhys reached out a hand, magic flaring, but-

Slim, hot fingers wrapped around his wrist, surprising him, which was impressive in itself.

Lucien, remarkably, had fought his way back to consciousness.

Stupid, stubborn bastard, Rhys thought, with fondness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lucien demanded, spitting blood from a bitten tongue out of his mouth at Rhys’s knees.

“That’s really no way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian, Lucien,” Rhys said, tutting, “I see you haven’t improved your manners since last we met.”

“I see you haven’t stopped being a prick, either,” Lucien shot back, weakly.

“I’m overwhelmed by your wit,” Rhys said sardonically.

“Fuck off and let me bleed, Rhys,” Lucien muttered thickly, body starting to tremble with the pain.

“Is that what Tamlin would do?” Rhys asked, unable to stop himself picking at that old wound between them.

A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw, but for once he restrained himself from answering. Perhaps Amarantha’s eye gouging had changed him, after all.

“No,” Rhys continued, folding his arms across his chest, “No, Tamlin doesn’t even know your bleeding out down here for his foolish command. Or, more appropriately, he doesn’t care.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lucien snapped, some of that fire flaring in his remaining eye again.

Rhys still wasn’t used to the mechanical one. He’d spent a long time, previously, getting lost in that blazing gaze before. It wasn’t the same now.

Rhys tutted idly, rocking back on his heels, peering down at Lucien, “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, you know.”

“And you do?” Lucien shot back, an awful disdain twisting his face.

Rhys’s jaw tightened, “I didn’t say that,” he said, smoothly.

Lucien laughed bitterly, even though it made him convulse with pain, “You meant it, though.”

He rolled onto his side, snarling with pain as he did, so that he could look Rhys full in the face as he spoke. Lucien had always been far too skilled at reading him, and he looked away, unable to bear that burning gaze.

“He didn’t deserve the sacrifice you made to stay with him,” Rhys breathed.

“Sacrifice?” Lucien repeated, “You mean you?” He laughed, the sound raw and humourless, echoing in the cavernous cell around them. It degenerated to coughing before long. “I owed him. I still do. He saved my life. He took me in after Jes. I pledged my fealty to him. You thought I’d turn away from that for your fucking dick?”

Rhys met his furious gaze once more as he said, softly, “I thought you might have turned away from it for the chance at happiness.” He rose to his feet, staring down at Lucien, something tightening within him, “But you could never let yourself have that, could you? It’s always been your most fatal flaw, Lucien. You don’t know how to let yourself be happy.”

“And you do?”he shot back.

“I could have learned,” Rhys said, very quietly, and he knew Lucien felt the sincerity in it, “For you.”

That actually shut Lucien up, for once. The only times he’d managed to achieve that before had been with decidedly more creative applications of his tongue.

“Don’t return to the party tonight,” he said, “I’ll be back here in a few hours with Feyre, and you can visit her yourself. Lie there and try not to drown in your own blood until then, won’t you?”

He turned, cloak covering Lucien in black for a moment, before pulling away, leaving him trembling on the cold stone floor.

Despite the anger that pulsed in his chest, he couldn’t leave him like that. He waved an idle finger, and Lucien’s wounds sealed themselves. Not fully. Not enough to leave Amarantha suspicious, but enough to ease his agony for now.

Lucien blinked and sat up as Rhys turned away again.

“What will she do to you if she learns of this?” he asked, very quietly.

Rhys forced himself to smile, “I doubt she’ll think of anything new. She’s not particularly creative, you know.”

“It’s still a risk,” Lucien said, gazing at him with suspicion, as if he expected some bargain, some demand for recompense.

Rhys shrugged in response, “Perhaps I think it’s worth it.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Lucien asked, sounding genuinely, heartbreakingly, bemused.

“Maybe I think you’re worth it,” Rhys said, more softly still.

Lucien eyed him for a long moment, pregnant with heavy silence, words they’d never spoken to one another echoing up through the lonely decades they’d spent apart.

“I’ll never understand you, Rhys,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that part of my enigmatic mystique and irresistible air?” he replied slyly.

Lucien smirked at that, “Enigmatic ego and insufferable ass, more like.”

“You found my ass quite sufferable, if memory serves,” Rhys smirked.

Lucien grinned. For a moment they weren’t trapped in this foul pit of a place. They were on the borders of Spring, Lucien’s mouth hot and insistent against his, fingers roaming beneath dark Illyrian leathers with surprising knowledge of buckle placement.

“Thank you,” Lucien said, a little too stiffly.

“I do believe that might have caused you more pain than the whipping,” Rhys quipped.

“It certainly is now, with you gloating in my face,” Lucien scowled in response.

“Take care, Little Lucien,” Rhys said, waving an idle hand back towards him as he moved to the door of the cell.

“And you, Rhys,” Lucien said, very quietly.

There was such emotion in that deep russet eye of his, that Rhys forced himself to winnow back to the party, before he did something incredibly stupid. Like kissing him.

***

Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you liked it!

[kkeidawrites]

Lost Light

Whew, let me tell y'all writing this one shot was killing me...having to re-watch and relive the experience from this made me have a broken heart again like all those years ago. But, here we are.

Loki Laufeyson x black!reader

Disclaimer: The story you are about to read is full of spoilers from the Avengers: Infinity War movie, I do not own any of the quotes or the gifs that are displayed on this fanfic, that all belongs to Disney, Marvel Studios which is a subsidiary of Walt Disney Studios and its proper companies and I would suggest you not read this if you have not seen the movie yet. This story is both fictional and all the characters that are mentioned are all my personal, made up ocs that I wanted to share. So, just you know, prepare yourselves. Thank you.

The stench.

The falling ash.

The haunting distress call, pleading for any help that was close by, didn't reach a willing ear.

Pieces of the ship, that once held all of the surviving members of Asgard, were scattered astray and skewed in space.

Asgardians young and old littered the remaining floating, functioning part of the ship, dead and being stabbed again by the ones who created the carnage to ensure they stayed dead.

Mawu watched helplessly as Thor laid on the bay of the ship, defeated and critically wounded, his breathing was becoming labored but the Moon Goddess couldn't do anything as she was restrained by the large behemoth that had its foot on her back.

They had fought valiantly and fearlessly, but in the end it didn't matter, Thanos had took them down without breaking a sweat. His lackeys went to work to kill the rest of the innocent Asgardians, claiming he was doing them a favor.

"Your people are nothing now...you have no world to occupy." he had said after he broke our spirits. He spoke to us like we were his captured kill from a glorious hunt.

"Your people are powerless, tired, it would be best to end your suffering."

"I know what it's like to lose," the titan turns his back to stare at Loki who shifted his gaze from his wife back to Thanos. The last thing he needed was the titan to know that he was a married man and Loki refused to allow anymore harm come to her.

He had done so in the past and he vowed to protect her since then. Mawu watched powerless as the feeling of the creature's foot pressed a bit more on her back, making Mawu grunt in pain.

"Feels so desperately that you are right, yet to fail none the less."

Thanos approaches Thor and picks him up by the neck dragging him over to Loki's stiff form.

"Turns the legs to jelly. I ask you to what end? Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. Now it's here, should I say 'I am..'"

Thor makes a clipped comment and Loki quickly gazes at his brother fearfully then back to the menacing titan's glare.

"The Tesseract or your brother's head." His large fist began to squeeze the new king's head.

"I assume you have a preference?" Thanos asked smug.

"Oh, I do. Kill away." Loki's statement lifts the titan's chin smugly and Mawu's jaw drops in disbelief; the large brute then takes the power infinity stone and presses it against the side of Thor's head. Thor screams from the immense pain that was coming from the stone and Mawu squirmed under the beast's foot.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Mawu yells as she struggled. More pressure was applied to her back and the Goddess gasps in pain going limp, and had no choice but to listen to the agonizing screams of the king of Asgard. Tears were running down her cheeks, as a sob left her lips.

After all they had been through, Loki would pull something like this. Mawu believed that her husband had changed for the better and here he was allowing this monster to kill his own brother. She struggled to turn her head and out of the corner of her eye she watched her husband. He was looking conflicted to what was happening. Thor let out another excruciating cry of pain and Loki balled his fists at his sides.

"Alright, stop!" Loki yells.

The power stone was removed from his brother's head and Thor panted helplessly at Thano's side. Loki sighs in relief.

"We don't have the Tesseract. It was destroyed on Asgard." Thor wheezes.

Low and behold, Loki materializes the Tesseract in his right hand, raised to Thano's eye and the titan gives a chilling grin.

"You..you really are the worst brother." Thor says and Loki comes closer to Thanos as if to hand over the sacred item to him.

"I assure you brother , the sun will shine on us again." Loki tells him and that makes Thanos chuckle.

"Your optimism is misplaced Asgardian."

"Well for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another, we have a Hulk." Just as he said that, the green gamma fused hero came barreling through and punches Thanos giving Loki enough time to move Thor out of harm's way.

"Let him have his fun." Ebony Maw tells Black Dwarf who moved to help their master.

Mawu was shocked at the quick turn of events and the pressure on her back was lifted long enough for her to roll out from under Black Dwarf and use her cosmic beam emission to blast him away from her. Sending another beam at Corvus Glaive, Mawu floated over to Thanos to help Hulk.

This brought Proxima Midnight attention to Mawu's sudden escape and she steps in Mawu's way to halt her assault. Spins her three-pronged spear to ready her stance. Mawu readies herself and her hands and eyes begin to glow a bright blue color.

"You won't leave here alive." she taunts with a smirk.

"We will see, bitch." Mawu sends beams her way and Proxima dodges them, moving close to unleash swings from her spear. Mawu dodges them and blocks the ones that reached her face.

Hulk began with having the upperhand on Thanos but, the titan quickly unbalanced him and took his down within seconds, hauling his large body over his head then slamming it on the ground of the ship's bay. Hulk lays there defeated and not moving.

Thor comes up behind Thanos and hits him with a lead pipe that bounces off his armor and the titan turns around and pushes him away. Ebony Maw takes this time to use his psychokinesis and trap Thor's body with the iron from the ship.

Mawu manages to scratch Proxima's right cheek and the woman grunts in pain touching her cheek to feel the blue blood running down to her lip. She gives a battlecry and sweeps her spear under Mawu's feet but she was quicker to jump back and uses her right leg to come down and snaps the spear in half.

Proxima uses one end of her spear to throw at the Moon Goddess and Mawu dodges it.

Elbowing her in the face, Mawu is quick to get onto her hands and spin her straightened feet in a kick combo on her face. Proxima dodges the first spin but was hit by the second one, along with an uppercut Mawu sent once she returned to her feet.

.As she stumbles back from the attack, Mawu grabs Proxima by the neck and throws her down into the ground, raising her leg to bring it down on her head as a final blow when she was suddenly grabbed by the back of her neck and pulled away from her opponent. Black Dwarf had grabbed her threw her but, Mawu was stopped by an invisible force.

The Goddess squirmed from the invisible force holding her and turned her head to see Ebony Maw holding her against her will.

She cursed him in her native tongue as she was left floating at his side.

However, the thing Mawu saw was Heimdall as he prayed softly to his ancestors and her eyes widened at what he was doing.

"Forefathers, let the dark magic flow through me one last...time." his soft prayer was heard and the Bifrost was opened and immediately took Hulk away. Thanos approaches Heimdall and grabs Corvus Glaive's double-sided polearm as he looks down at the struggling man.

"That was a mistake." Thanos tells the watchman of the gods and stabs the polearm through his heart. Heimdall stares defiantly at Thanos until his last breath of life left his body and he fell limp against the piece of metal he was propped up against. Thor cries in anguish as he watched his friend die and glares hatefully at the titan.

"You going to die for that." Thor swears to Thanos then his lips are bound when Ebony Maw seals his lips with metal.

Ebony Maw then presents the Tesseract to Thanos, as he kneels before the titan and the purple brute removes his armor, and plucks the cube from his lackey's hand. He crushes it and inside his hand sits the space stone. He places the stone on his gauntlet and hums in pleasure of the new power flowing through him.

Mawu suddenly feels weak and lethargic, her head begins to pound severely. You see, when the space stone is disrupted, it effects those who helped create the universe, Mawu is beginning to lose her powers because, the space stone is what keeps the balance of all the nine realms in harmony. With a dark heart like Thanos, the space stone could easily kill the creator gods of the universe.

"There are two more stones on Earth," Thanos marvels at the stones on his gauntlet, he then turns his attention to his 'children'.

"Find them my children, and bring them to me on Titan." he orders and his 'children' kneel down in front of him in respect.

"Father we will not fail you." Proxima Midnight says. Mawu glares at the woman.

"Karachi ẹnu kẹtẹkẹtẹ bishi (Stupid kissing ass bitch)." Mawu cursed and Proxima gives her a menacing glare as if she understood what the Goddess said.

"If I might interject," Loki makes his appearance and slowly moves closer to Thanos.

"If you are going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have experience in that arena." he gives a dry chuckle.

"If you call failure experience.

"I consider experience, experience."

"Oh mighty Thanos," he grew closer now as he sneakily summoned a knife in his left hand.

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard...Odin's son, the rightful king of the Jotunheim, God of Mischief...do hereby pledge to you..." he gives his wife a look. Just one look to show that he loved her and Mawu's eyes widened. Mawu watched in horror as her husband approached the titan and began shaking her head.

"...my undying infidelity." Loki moves to strike Thanos through the throat but, the space stone possesses his arm to stop him. Loki pants in disbelief and Mawu struggles in her metal bindings, trying desperately to get out to help her husband.

"Loki! Get out of there! Loki!" she screams to her lover, whom even if he wanted to, could not move.

"Undying? You should use your words more carefully." Thanos scolds Loki and pushes back his arm, making the God of Mischief grunt in pain as he was quickly disarmed and Thanos gripped him by the throat. Mawu struggled harder as the titan raised her lover higher to get a better look at him. Loki's choking gargles alerted both her and Thor.

"Let him go you alainiye lori (son of a bitch)! Loki!" Mawu grunts as her metal prison squeezed around her body. She watched pitifully as her husband squirmed in Thano's squeezing grip and her tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Don't...Do not do this! Please don't do this!" she cries as the sound of Loki's bones began rattling.

As he struggled, Loki had the gal to look in Thanos in the eyes as he whimpered out one last statement. "You...will never be...a god." Loki then shifts his wavering gaze to his wife and gave her a painful smile then mouthing his love to her before the crack of his neck resounded in the tense atmosphere.

"Noooooooooooo!" Mawu yells.

Thor's muffled cry of anguish is a haunting one as Thanos brings his dead brother's body over to his bound form, dropping him at his feet.

"No resurrections this time." Thanos taunts. The titan then raises his gauntlet and activates the power stone, all around them what's left of the Statesmen began to explode and Thanos uses the space stone to open a portal and the Black Order leave the blowing up ship.

The metal around Thor disintegrated and he quickly crawled over to Loki's body. He looked over his brother's face and sobs left his lips as he hugged him to his chest.

"Loki..." he whimpers solmenly.

Mawu however, had another agenda, once she was released from the metal prison her eyes had coated over to a dark blue color and her hands glowed a illuminated white color. Her adrenaline was high as hell and so was her anger which gave her more of a boost as she flew up from the Statesmen and aimed her glowing hands at Thanos' ship.

"O gba ọkọ mi, ẹbi mi, lẹhinna o ro pe o kan le sá? Iwọ yoo ku loni, aderubaniyan(You take my husband, my family, and then you think you can just run away? You will die today, monster)! " Mawu beams up her hands and begins throwing concentrated cosmic energy balls at the ship.

Two of the engines on the ship went up in flames, and Mawu flew closer to punch a side of the ship but, her assault was cut short when a canon blasted her away. This gave the ship enough time to portal out of there.

Mawu regained her balance mid-flight and her brows furrowed in anger as she watched the ship disappear through the portal. Her tears returned and her adrenaline wore off, as the Statesmen blew up in a purple flash behind her. Mawu welcomed the force of the blast as her eyes returned to its original brown color.

She simply floated in outer space as the debris of both the ship and deceased Asgardians coasted past her. Mawu's eyes caught Loki's departed form and moved closer to him, grabbing his cold hand and pulling him to her chest. Mawu cried in his chest as she wrapped his arms around her body, wanting to once again feel his loving embrace.

The moon has a dark side and it has a bright side but, with how her emotions played out, the moon has been cased in a dark grey hue that stirs the gravity on the Earth.

Mawu didn't care about any of that right now...her husband was dead, her heart has been torn in two, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Mawu's eyes filmed over a grey color and she fell limply against her deceased husband's chest as her body shut down into a vegetative state.

The light was lost from the moon that day and the end of the universe was closer.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

I hope you all had a good cry like I did when I wrote this story. This had been sitting in my brain for weeks, yall. WEEKS. And I finally sat my ass down and wrote it. So, enjoy, like, comment and reblog. Also make sure to head over to my inbox for any requests. Peace y'all.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 39

The Road So Far

Is this still worth it?

The SEVEN Inch Wound

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141 Base - Gym

Roach finally got his seal of approval. After weeks of physical therapy and daily check ups, he was now finally fit for battle and he was lucky enough that Nero was still under the radar. He wouldn't want to miss out on the battle he started. He was lucky enough that they were exonerated when Shepherd surrendered, because if they continued to be fugitives, Roach would not have access to appropriate medical attention.

It has been almost a month after the events in Afghanistan and Task Force 141 was already re-established, Samantha and Maxine were housed on a nearby compound where veteran's families lived under the safety of government protection. During his time in the infirmary, Maxine was always there to visit, telling him tales about dreams she recovered as time went by. Roach was glad she was returning to normal and that no matter how her memories came back, her treatment towards him was the same.

"Good to see you back on your feet, my man." Rocket went up to him and did their fist bump, a series of elaborate claps then finished off with finger guns accompanied by their almost realistic attempt at pistol fires.

"Haha. Yeah? I'm glad I'm back." He waved as Rocket pointed at his back. Roach turned to see Maxine, carrying a packed lunch, waiting at the end of the hallway.

"Hey you. Just in time for lunch as always." He smiled, wrapping an arm around her as they made their way to the mess hall.

"Glad to see you smiling and walking about." She says, as her palms ran across his firm chest, tracing the scar that changed his life.

"Yeah, finally passed the damn physical test." He grinned as they sat down at their usual table, the only table which consisted of two tables stuck together to form an eight seater.

The rest of Roach's closest comrades were already there. Alex, guessing what Samantha packed for him. Soap and France arguing which meal choice was best for them and Ghost, who was already halfway through his lunch while the rest of his comrades haven't even started yet.

"Good to have you back, buddy." Ghost greeted with a wide grin on his face, well technically only half of his face was shown.

"Hey man. I sure am glad. How have you been doing?" he joked. They constantly visit him in their free time, so there was actually nothing to catch up on.

"The rest of the squad proceeded to badger Roach with questions about everything they wanted to know. Roach enjoyed the hot seat as the military mess hall felt like the university cafeteria.

"So, any news about Nero?" He finally asked as soon as everyone was done with him. The table felt awfully quiet.

"None." France was the first to speak up. Everyone else nodded and frowned.

"Shit. Guess our only choice is to wait." He added.

"Shepherd didn't have any leads towards Nero. Their last contact was the exchange of blueprints and after that, he was gone." Soap explained the situation.

"The missing persons?" Gary asked.

"Still missing." Alex commented.

"And there are still a few additions every other day as indicated by the FBI and DHS." Ghost added.

"Is interpol still involved?" Roach turned to Ghost.

"They're still after the traces of EMP equipment from the missing persons. Their new lead is that Nero's team is trying out a lethal kind of grenade. One that explodes without damaging property. If he's planning invasion, this is actually a good idea without ruining too much of the invaded country." He replied. Roach nodded at the theory. EMPs only damage mechanical equipment and this was a good call for the bad side.

"I never knew they'd think of this kind of weaponry. I always expected bioweapons being the last of modern warfare." Ghost muttered.

"Well, that was what happened in Verdansk and we stopped it. We could do that again." Alex tried to boost morale.

"Yeah. We'll do whatever it takes." Roach agreed and they continued lunch.

By the time he started training, Roach focused back on his Sniper techniques. His wound may have affected his previous breathing training and it was only inevitable that he'd train it again. He wanted to master the long ranged rifle as it was vital towards his development as a soldier.

"Back on the scope huh." Ghost huffed as they reached their 200 yard mark, by the hill just outside the base.

"Glad you could help me on this one." Roach unzipped the sniper bag and began scouting the area.

"You sure this is your spot?" Ghost asked, using his hand as a visor against the hot afternoon sun.

"Yeah. This fits."

"Suit yourself." He chuckled as Roach snapped every attachment of the rifle, from the bipod stand to the clicker adjustments.

He peeked at the scope and looked at his target. Five small cans standing on top of a log 200 yards away.

"Remember what I told you." Ghost mused as he looked at Roach steadying his breathing.

"Damn." He added as he noticed the change in wind.

"Yeah, damn. I just was about to fire it." Roach muttered as he took another deep breath and began to hold still as his crosshairs adjusted to the shift.

A loud fire echoed across the hills as dust scattered on the ground where Roach fired. He was about a few inches off.

"Great. Do that again but change your adjustments." Ghost said as consolation.

"Yeah got it." He rolled his dial once again and accounted for the wind, easing his breath and fired again. The loud sound once again echoed through the hills, followed by a soft metal can flying away from the log.

"There you go! A clean hit." Ghost congratulated as he tapped Roach's back while he reloaded his sniper and aimed again.

Roach stayed at that spot until it was too dark to continue and Ghost accompanied him until such time. On their way back, Ghost opened up to something that has been bothering him ever since.

"Roach. Do you mind if I say something important?" He asked and it made Roach stop on his tracks.

"Yeah. What's up." Roach asked.

"I've already sent my formal letter, but I just wanted you to have a heads up on the matter." Formal letter. Roach's heart started to pound as his mind automatically thought of him quitting or leaving.

"Letter about?" he asked. His mouth almost felt dry. He didn't want him to leave. Not again.

"Transferring department. Alexandra offered me a spot on the Interpol. I told you this first because I knew that if you were on my shoes, you'd go too, right? Do whatever makes you happy?" he said, quoting Roach's famous words.

He isn't wrong about doing what makes him happy, but his decision didn't feel right either, or maybe because he just doesn't want Ghost to go.

"Well, you bet I'd go for that option too!" Roach said, trying to validate his decision despite not wanting it. It was sad to see him go, but for the first time in ages, Ghost actually acknowledged the term happy.

"I knew you'd understand." he smiled and continued their trail back to the base where Roach remained quiet until they reached the base just in time for dinner.

After dinner, Roach opted for a night jog around the base to clear his mind off of Ghost leaving. After the second lap, he soon noticed Alex catching up to him.

"Wonderful weather for an evening run, huh?" He asked all cheery as he's quite used to his heavier and more realistic leg.

"Yeah. It is. Good to see you're liking Samantha's surprise." Gary nodded and removed his earphones.

"You know, it's really a surprise when I'm the only one who doesn't know about it." He commented.

"It feels like a real leg, actually. The wonders of modern technology never ceases to amaze me." He mused as they both took the turn.

"Yeah? That's good to hear. Pretty sure Samantha loved the way you thanked her." Roach teased as Alex chuckled, like he recalled some memory.

"Oh yeah, she did." Alex nodded suggestively, the kind that Roach didn't want to ask anymore.

"This your last lap?" Roach asked as Alex slowed down for his cooldown, turning to the set of exercise bars.

"Yep. See ya!" He waved as he started his cooldown.

Gary took three more laps just to make sure he's exhausted for the night, so that once he got in his bed, no more thoughts would assault his mind, hindering him from sleep.

There was only one way out of it. And it was accepting Ghost's inevitable departure from the 141.

The next morning, the 141 was briefed on a possible lead on Nero. This time, Ghost wasn't in the room and that meant that his letter was now approved.

"Okay lads. We've received word on a supply drop activity from Nero. We intercepted an unencrypted call signal to an abandoned port just off the coast of Sierra Leone, Africa. If intel is correct, we're going to be dealing with someone who goes by 'Volt', Nero's bomb maker." Price paced in front of the huge screen showing details regarding their mission.

"Volt is a high value individual who must not be killed. He's our only hope towards Nero. The intercepted call came from the USA, and it's quite impossible that Nero is here, so he must've used a secure line. Jack will be staying in the base as our new Operations Command as suggested by Laswell. Overlord will continue his role as our commanding officer as well." Price added making clear about the jurisdiction.

"Damp and dry Africa." Soap muttered.

"Have you been there?" France asked.

"Only in Egypt. My mom used to tag me along her trips." he replied.

"Recon suggests a high chance of militia activity, so our standard rules of engagement; treat anyone as hostile. Volt's compound will be surrounded by his own personal army and they're willing to shoot any unwanted visitors. He also has access to a port, so I'm sending the Charlie team to stand by the shore and make sure they're not planning an escape." he added.

"I'm leading the Alpha team and our task is to infiltrate his base and secure Volt for intel. Bravo team, led by Alex, will act as our support when things go south. As bonus, we need to destroy any trace of bomb making equipment.

Roach, I want you to man our new air support tools from above as soon as we confirm that there are no SAMs on his base." He shot his glare on Roach and he nodded. Guess he isn't on the ground tomorrow.

"We leave tomorrow at 0300. Make your necessary preparations especially on our brand new comms equipment. Ones that are immune to EMP blasts. Dismissed." He said as everyone got up and went on their way. Gary purposefully left himself behind so he could ask Price about the Ghost situation.

"Hey there lad. You feeling good?" Price approached as soon as he noticed Roach.

"I just have a question about the mission."

"Sure. What about it? Any suggestions?"

"No no. The plan is fine. Where will Ghost be?" Price gave him a worried stare.

"Ah. Didn't he tell you about his transfer?" He crossed his arms and stared at Roach.

"He did… but why did you allow it?"

"Well, it certainly looked like he was happy to go there. And I had no power over his commendations." Price reasoned as they walked out of the briefing room.

"Oh. I thought he was going to have one last mission with us." Roach smiled as he walked back to the room. Ghost wasn't a fan of goodbyes. Maybe because he knew they'll meet again.

0300H

Sierra Leone, Africa

"This is Hunter One-One requesting sitrep, over." Roach phoned his allies who were already on the ground for support. This mission was their vital lead towards Nero. He wished that the guy Volt was here so that they could finally finish the war before everyone else gets hurt.

Before he could man the air support, he needed to confirm that there were no SAMs present on their base so he could safely provide suppressing fire from above.

Next Chapter : The SIXth Ship

Notification Squad my Beloved

@whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @bumblingbee1 @smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmates AU- Part 1

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

Marinettes knees were bruised. Again! She was so so careful not to ruin her new summerdress on the way to Ninos 9th birthday-party and now her knees were all red and scratchy. “Not todayy”, the little girl whined while searching for some kind of medicine in her small pink backpack, hoping to ease the pain for her as well as the cause of her suffering: her soulmate, who seemed to have an eagerness to ALWAYS fall on their knees. A few moments and a frustrated huff later, Mari found herself punching her arm for some kind of payback and wincing right after. Why couldn’t she just have a harmless soulmate-bond? Why couldn’t she just dream of them like Nino did or have a tattoo like Chloe? Why was her bond forged through literal PAIN? 

Rounding the corner, little Mari found herself in a field full of green and blue balloons with loads of boys and a few chosen girls surrounding a happy Nino. The boy was currently bouncing like a basketball and grinning from ear to ear, while sneaking longing glances to a table full of presents, as well as various treats from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Speaking of the Dupain-Chengs, their daughter was spotted by her best friend as she was about to put her present next to the others, which lead to him running to greet her and pulling the girl into a bonecrushing hug. Therefore Mari was left patting Ninos’ back and trying to catch a breath. “You made it! I saw your treats and I know you answered my invitation but I was still worried, this party wouldn’t be the same without you!”, he blubbered in all of his bubbly grace while trying to lift her, even though he wasn’t quite strong enough to succeed yet (which didn’t mean he wouldn’t try again tomorrow, he was now older and stronger than her, after all). 

Mari wriggled her way out of his arms, happy to catch a breath and giggling. A blush was gracing her face, leading to Nino blushing happily in return. “Of course I made it! I didn’t spend all week making you a present for nothing!”, she smiled as Ninos ears grew hot, “You spent a-all week making a present? F-for me?”, he stuttered with a big dopey grin splitting his face. Marinette nodded, another soft giggle escaping her mouth. All the guests were now watching them, holding their breaths. She handed him the pretty red box. Nino sat down on the grass right there in front of her and opened it, hands shaking with eagerness and breath held in anticipation. Mari sat across from him, covering her eyes with her hands, afraid of his judgement. This was her first time gifting someone one of her sewing-projects, after all. 

His delighted gasp led to her parting her fingers slightly, only now noticing all the tiny cuts covering them, no doubt the price she had to pay for still being clumsy at sewing (”even though I have been doing it for a year now, I should be better than that”, she mentally scolded herself). Her thoughts were interrupted by a round of gasps coming from the tiny audience surrounding the best-friends-duo. Marinette focused back on Nino and dropped her hands to her mouth, squeaking in delight. The boy in front of her put on the basecap she made him and was grinning even wider, which she, until then, wasn’t even sure were possible. He hugged her, in a much gentler embrace then the previous time. His fingers were soft, not covered in cuts and red spots, as he pulled away and took her hands in his, not caring about the giggles and ew-s from their audience, nor the blush creeping up Maris’ cheeks. “I love it...so much”, what he meant, though, was “I wish you were my soulmate”.

And Mari couldn’t agree more.

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

It was dark, a coffee mug was standing amongst an army of already finished ones and a droopy eyed girl was sitting in front of them, lazily turning a page on the book her english-teacher assigned her to read. She recognized the storyline, knew all the plot-twists and felt connected to the characters as if she’d been there herself. The strange thing about that though, was that she has never laid eyes on it before. Of course that didn’t stop her from reading it. There were assignments she had to fullfill and tests she had to ace, which were connected to that piece of literature and she couldn’t risk getting a bad grade due to a foolish reliance on her instincts. 

Instincs.

Yes that is what they are and of course none of this is connected to her soulmate. 

It couldn’t be, she couldn’t dare dream of it. They died, that’s what that numbness she felt for over six months must have meant. That’s why those scars were now gracing her whole body. Her soulmate could not have survived this. No mortal being could go through so much and still be breathing. 

The new bruises and cuts she was getting now and then? Her Ladybug suit can’t protect her from everything, being thrown over the Saine so may times couldn’t have left her with no traces whatsoever. Yes, that’s the reason. He’s not resurrected, that’s silly...there’s no way.

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

“What happened to your lips, milady?”, Ladybugs partner purred as they layed on a roof not far from the eiffel tower, watching the stars, having just finished patrol a few minutes ago. “M-my lips?���, the 16 year old girl stuttered, a tiny voice immediatly occupying her, previously calm, mind with thoughts of her soulmate. They have been acting up lately, not that it was possible. They were gone. 

There’s no way, she must have been hallucinating again. She must have forgotten how she hurt her lip, she must be feeling side-effects from the loss of her soulmate. Her thoughts were spiralling and that tiny voice in her mind was whispering, filling her denial with doubts and cracks and making her heart beat faster. 

“Your lips, they look... different...”, Chat Noirs voice interrupted the turmoil in her head. Ladybug gazed over to him, only to find him closer to her then when they first layed down. His eyes were glistening, seemingly shining even brighter than the Eiffel Tower in it’s nightly glory. A foreign sensation ran through her veins, a weird tingling covering her whole body. It could have been mistaken for goosebumps, if it weren’t for the warm summernight they were currently enjoying. “They do..?” she said, though it came out as nothing more than a whisper, for he was already so so close, even closer than when they are in battle. Their noses were almost touching, his eyes took up all of her view and for once she wouldn’t dare complain. Since when does she like that proximity? Why is his warmth so intriguing? Why does she enjoy the way his arms found their place on both sides of her body? “They look so...red...like your suit...Ladybug re-”, he got interrupted by his lips sealed shut. Shut not with that redness he mentioned, not with that love or attraction and reciprocated admiration Adrien was hoping for. No, it was her red suited hand which covered his mouth to silent him. She felt it before she heard it. An earthquake was rummaging through the streets and handling it was much more important than handling that purring in her best friend.

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

Jason was annoyed. His fingers were full of cuts: sure, he was used to that. His hips were bruised from his soulmate constantly closing doors and cupboards with them, at least that’s what he thinks they do to cause such silly bruises: no problem, he didn’t mind dealing with that. His backpains he could deminguish by working out, though he has been thinking of finding them just to tell his significant other to better their fucking posture. But the tiredness? Holy fuck! It’s like he’s sleeping for both of them! Whenever he sat down to read he just... collapsed. Guess he’ll have to dream about it... yeah sure it’s fair, ‘cause after all she treated his wounds for both of them, too. It’s like she had some kind of superpower which made them heal clean, never leaving more than a white line behind. Nontheless, right then he would rather have ugly scars than have to deal with this inhuman tiredness. His grumpy grumbling was interrupted by Red Robin speaking up in his ear.

“Hood where are you? The portal is about to appear, we won’t be able to wait.”

“I’m on my way, give me 2 more minutes.”

“Hurry.”

With that, the line went silent and his mind went back to coordinating his grappling hook and limbs into getting him to the batcave in time. He had planned on finishing at least one of Terry Pratchets and Neil Gaimans novels in preparation for the moviemarathon he and his brothers had planned for the upcoming week. “Good Omens” is a masterpiece but he refused to watch any visualizers nor read the book if he hadn’t read all of the previous works the authors had published. “It’s not just about the continuation, it’s a matter of respect.”, he rememberd telling Stephanie, when she asked him why Alfred was handing him a box filled with a combined number of about a hundred books. He had work to do and reality to escape, but that last part was none of his lovely sisters business. 

Zoning back into reality he noticed he had already reached his destination. “Focus Jason. There’s a whole city just waiting to be pulled out of the ashes.” With that thought in mind, he entered the batcave and went straight for the portal, following his siblings into the destroyed city of love.

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

Adrien was on edge. The fight has been going on for four days, the city was nothing but blood and ashes, the akuma-shelters weren’t enough to protect every citizien who has lost their home to the earthquakes and following akuma attacks. Many people have died, many have volunteered and too many of those have died in the process. It was traumatic, painful and quite honestly felt like the end of the world. They could fix it, of course. But to do so she had to survive and Adrien, or Chat Noir as you will, was not about to leave her unprotected. He didn’t know where she got her power from, why she could go on without taking a break for so long. He has lost count on how many times he saw her helping someone who was about to be crushed by a collapsing building, how many times she was screaming in frustration, torn between following the akuma and guiding a lost civilian to safety. 

It was an incredibly sneaky akuma. It was nearly translucent, consisting mostly of dirt and dust. It could hide in the mess it made, attack you from behind and you wouldn’t be sure whether it was a flying brick or it’s fist hitting your head. It hasn’t officialy announced itself yet, hasn’t given itself a name or shown any forms of weakness. Hawkmoth was definetly trying out a new approach and highly succeeding. The Dustmonster was probably planning on wearing them out until they wouldn’t be strong enough to resist it going for their miraculous.

In the beginning Chat felt like he could trust his Lady to take care of herself, trusted for her to keep the target in mind and think of a plan while he was going to protect her and the citizens around them. It worked, at first. She figured out what the akuma was, aka figured out that it was an akuma in the first place and soon started giving out orders to police and firemen. After a day of trying to get the akuma, in order to stop it before things could go out of hand and failing to do so, no matter which strategy the heroes tried and no matter how many seemingly random Lucky Charms they used, they decided to replan. 

They met on a building not far away from Marinettes home, Chat remembered. They were hoping to come up with a new plan and let Ladybugs Kwami recharge. The recharging was an already practiced routine they came up with, once her fifth Lucky Charm has also failed. They jumped into the water, which was apparently off limits to the akuma, since the dust didn’t settle properly and it wasn’t able to hide (any attempts of getting it wet were blocked by the destruction of another building, which led to the heroes saving the civilans and themselves instead of attacking the enemy.) One of Ladybugs Lucky-Charms straight up covered the Saine, turned up side down boats now gracing the surface. Those boats mobilised possible hiding and resting places for the heroes. 

That time though, they needed more food for Tikki and Plagg and what better place to restock could there be, than the famous Dupain-Cheng bakery?  Ladybug swung in and came back with two baskets. One full of cheese and the other full of cookies. Chat grabbed the smelly one and turned to jump in the direction of the river, when they heard it. 

A grumbling which turned into a roaring and finally morphed into deafening laughter. That was the first time they heard the akumas voice. Instead of shouting the following words, the way it did scream in laughter, it just spoke in an even, eerie and scarily confident voice: “You should stop asking for help, insect. Helping others only leads to you getting hurt. Help won’t save you. Your precious little safety-nets won’t save you.”, the sound was coming out of the dust, echoing off of every destructed creation, seeping into each broken bone and every fractured mind. “You think you can reach out? Think someone is going to pull you away from under the pressure of this worlds eternal suffering? You are wrong. No one came to save me, no one is capable of saving. You.”, the last word came out emotional. The monotone voice the akuma had previously used to preach it’s intents was gone. A shiver ran up Marinettes spine. The dust surrounding the city build up and rose in columns, coming out of every broken source from all over Paris, towering over it, looming dangerously over it’s citizens. Everyone was trying to decipher the meaning of those words, Adrien was the first one to realise. 

“Marinette!”

Ladybug first looked at him in shock, thinking he had figured her out, then she realised what he he had actually meant. Chat was off, jumping on her balcony and screaming her name. 

“No...”

The silence before the storm, the frightening towers of dust and dirt started moving, accompanied by horrified screams of terrorised civilians. The dirt wasn’t meant for them, though. It flew as if it were one. Gigantic snakes with one single target. 

Marinette ran, but the destruction was quicker.

The Dupain-Cheng ceiling collapsed. Marinettes yo-yo missed it’s target as she plummeted to the ground. Her vision was blurry, her mind blank, eyes wide and  breath unconciously held. 

She didn’t recognize the pain as she hit the pavement. 

She didn’t even think as she called out for her seventh Lucky Charm. 

Ladybugs cry echoed through the ruins of Paris as her usualy leather-clad partner fell from the sky, with tears in his eyes and covered in a red and black spotted suit. “Sabine she’s...they’re...”, both of them broke down crying in each others arms. Adrien never knew how great his partners pain actually was, in comparison to his.

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

Hi! This is my first try at writing MariBat and my first fanfic in like... 4 years? 

I’ve just recently graduated Highschool so I’m now embracing my free time and trying to get back on my creative track.  

Please comment, I NEED to know what you think of this. Critique and all that is very appreciated, even a simple “YES” is going to absolutely make my day and, honestly, you could comment about dogs and I’d be happy to read it. 

Thanks for reading ^^

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)

Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.

AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii​, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this. 

I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.

To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!

Word count: 11k words

Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Masterlist // AO3 Link

“My last roommate got shanked.”

Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.

His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.

But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.

Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.

“I’m not gonna shank you.”

Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”

“Name’s Oscar.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

 His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.

That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.

“Excuse me.”

The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.

“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.

Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.

Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.

A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.

In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.

“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.

Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”

Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”

Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”

“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.

Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.

Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.

Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.

For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.

He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.

A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.

Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.

“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”

Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”

And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 But Spencer found a chink in the armour.

Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.

Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper

Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.

Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.

“What song is that?”

Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”

“It sounds nice.”

He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.

“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”

It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:

“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.

“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 “I am innocent.”

“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”

Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.

“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”

Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”

With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.

“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.

“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”

“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”

His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.

No, not blank.

Open.

Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”

Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”

“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”

The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.

Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.

“Oscar?”

Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”

Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.

When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”

Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.

But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.

He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.

“What’s up with you?”

The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.

“Spencer.”

He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.

“The poisonings were my fault.”

All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.

Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”

And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”

Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.

Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”

The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.

“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”

Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.

“Into bed, inmate!”

Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.

He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.

Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.

Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.

“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”

“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”

It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.

“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke

Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”

“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t regret it.”

“No.”

“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”

“What did I say about repeating it?”

Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.

“It seems I only give you grief.”

But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”

The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It was going to be another sleepless night.

Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.

As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.

Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.

Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.

Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.

With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”

Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”

“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”

“What about you?”

“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”

“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.

Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”

Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.

Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.

About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.

How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.

How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.

How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.

Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.

The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.

Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.

Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.

“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”

“What?”

“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”

He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”

Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.

He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.

His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard

“Get up.”

Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”

No answer.

Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in.  While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.

He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.

An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.

Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.

“Hello.”

Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”

Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”

It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”

“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”

“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”

“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”

“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.

So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”

Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”

But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”

“Spencer.”

“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”

“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”

“Spencer, stop!”

Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.

His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”

Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.

“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”

He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.

“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”

It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.

The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.

The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.

“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”

Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.

“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.

“Never.”

“This con must be something.”

The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.

Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”

A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”

Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.

His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.

“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”

This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.

“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder

“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”

“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.

Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.

He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”

“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Wow, he really walked into that one.

“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”

“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.

But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”

His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.

“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”

It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.

Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:

“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.

But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”

“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”

“The card was more than enough.”

A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.

“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”

Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”

Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.

“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”

Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.

“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”

“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”

“What, in the sandwich as well?”

“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.

“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”

“Ok, Spencer.”

From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.

Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.

Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.

Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.

Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.

It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.

Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.

Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.

Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.

When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.

Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”

Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”

Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.

The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.

“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”

It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.

“Of course, it’s your turn.”

“How’s the work going?”

“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.

Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.

“Nice joke!”

“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”

“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.  

And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.

He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?

Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.

He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.

Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.

That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.

“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”

He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.  

“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”

Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.

Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket

He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer

“Here!”

Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.

Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”

Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”

“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”

He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.

“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.

Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“It’s ok, anytime.”

They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.

Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.

“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”

“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”

In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice

“No, because I think I would have done the same.”

Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”

Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”

It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.

Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”

Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.

“Which time?”

“Every time.”

Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.

“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”

“I know.”

“You can smile if you want to,”

“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”

Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.

With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.

Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.

Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”

Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.

“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”

And the call continued for a little longer.

Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.

Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”

“Go for it.”

They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”

In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.

He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”

“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”

With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.

Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.

The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.

“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.

“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”

“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”

The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”

“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”

“That’s brilliant news.”

“How’s the case?”

“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”

“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”

“I’m just saying your name.”

“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.

“I like how you say my name. See you later?”

“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”

What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.

They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.

At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.

Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”

Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.

“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”

Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.

“No, no. I… um.”

Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.

“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”

Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.

“I’m sorry we haven’t…”

Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”

The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.

“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”

As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.  

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.

“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.

He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”

Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”

The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.

“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”

Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.

Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.

“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.

“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.

“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”

Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.

Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”

Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.

“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.

“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”

Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”

Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.

Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.

Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?

“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.

Fuck.

“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”

“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.

Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.

Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.

All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.

“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.

“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.

Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”

“Really?”

Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”

Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.

Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.

“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”

“I could. Technically.”

Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”

“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.

The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.

The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.

Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.

Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.

[whitecatgraycatblackcat]

Fictober 2021, Day 4

Prompt: “Fine, I give up”

Original Fiction

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,650

“Fine, I give up.” Lila slammed the wrench down as hard as she could, which wasn’t actually very hard since she only had about 8 inches of clearance between her and the engine above her, and scooted over. Mez picked up the wrench and moved over to where Lila had been and started adjusting some of the bolts as she replied, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You really ought to work on asking others for help, Lila.” Lila huffed and replied, “But if I always ask for help how am I ever supposed to figure things out on my own?” Mez sighed and replied, “By seeing their solution”. She stopped fiddling with the engine and started scooting toward the edge so she could get out from underneath the engine.

Lila looked at her, then back at the engine. “Are you done already?” Mez replied, “Yep.” Lila moved over again, looking at where Mez had been working as she asked, “What was the issue?” Lila could hear the smile in Mez’s reply. “The bolts weren’t screwed in correctly. They’re reverse bolts - you were just turning them the wrong way.” Lila frowned as she worked her way to the edge of the engine. “Seriously!? Why didn’t you tell me?” She popped out and stood up to face Mez right as Mez replied. “Because you’re too arrogant, Lila.” Mez spoke softly, but Lila could hear the seriousness in her tone.

Mez continued, “Lila, you’re one of the best engineers I know. Certainly better than I was at your age, and you could probably give me a run for my money right now, bolts not withstanding. But you need to learn to ask for help. You won’t always be able to fix things on your own.” Lila stood, angry and a bit stunned. Mez had reprimanded her before, but not usually like this. Lila knew she was good at her job, and couldn’t understand why Mez was so insistent on her asking for help. She had proven that she could fix things by herself time and time again, but it seemed like Mez just didn’t get it.

After a second Mez said in a more chipper tone, “Now come over here, I have some news for you. Carrot after the stick, right?” Mez sat down on a bench by the wall and patted the seat next to her. Lila thought about storming off, but something in Mez’s tone told her it would probably be worth it to see what she had to say. She sat down cautiously, still trying to fight down her anger. “What is it?”

Mez replied, “I know you think I’m hard on you, and I am, but it’s because I have high expectations for you. A new position as a senior engineer has opened up, and I’m recommending you for the position.” Lila’s mouth gaped, and she stared at Mez for a second before regaining her senses. “What? But isn’t there, like, an age limit? Don’t you have to be, like, over 30?” Mez grinned, obviously pleased to have shocked Lila. “Nope, people just normally aren’t skilled enough to be able to be one until then. You know I think you have faults --I just mentioned them -- but you are extremely skilled and deserve to be a contender for this position.” Lila continued to stare at Mez for a moment, then in a sudden movement reached over and wrapped Mez in a big hug. “Mez I can’t believe you thank you so much I promise you won’t regret it I…” She had to stop to take a deep breath then continued, “Thank you.” Mez awkwardly patted her back. “You’re welcome Lila. You’ve earned it.”

They talked a little longer, discussing the process and how things would proceed. Lila was practically walking on air as she went back to her room. Her, the youngest senior engineer ever at 26.

Lila continued to walk on air the next day. She couldn’t stop thinking about the new areas of the engine rooms she’d get to explore as a senior engineer, and all the benefits that would entail as well. She was doing basic maintenance on a piece of the engine deep within one of the small engine rooms when she noticed a small light flashing on the control panel. She went over to look and realized there was a small problem with one of the circuits. She took a closer look and could see the problem. Typically this would be someone else’s job, and she hadn’t worked on something like this before per se, but she had seen Mez work on them plenty of times before. She was confident she’d be able to figure it out.

She started to fiddle with it, and right when she thought she had it sorted, she heard a loud “Vmmmmm” noise start up, and continue to grow in volume. Oh no. She ran over to the control panel, and now there were numerous lights flashing. Turns out she hadn’t fixed the problem at all, but had managed to make it worse. “Shoot shoot shoot.” Lila couldn’t help muttering under her breath as she ran back to the wire. She knew she should go get someone’s help -- the alarm blaring was a deep bass that shook the whole ship, which meant it was a serious problem -- but she couldn't help thinking, “I’ll just try one more thing.” Sure, she had caused the problem, but if she could also solve it she could at least hold her head up high when she had to explain. She really didn’t want to lose her chance at senior engineer.

She was on her sixteenth “just one more try” when she heard someone pound into the room. “Lila!” It was Mez, and she sounded upset. “How long have you been in there? You need to get out!” It only took a moment for Lila to understand what Mez meant. She had forgotten -- volatile parts of the engine like this were purposely partitioned into small rooms, so that they could be sealed off in cases of emergency. The main system would cut all power to that piece, and stop receiving power from it, so that it could either cool itself down, or if that wasn’t possible its explosion would be confined to that room. The doors would automatically shut after two minutes. Shoot, how long had she been in here?

She tried to think, tried to check the control panel for a timer, but before she could Mez ran into the room, slamming against the engine because she hadn’t even tried to slow herself. She immediately shoved Lila out of the room as she yelled “Get out!” Lila stumbled, taking a few steps to steady herself out of the room. She immediately turned to try and pull Mez out of the room -- “Mez!” but as she did the doors slammed shut. Her last glance had been of Mez, trying to run back to the door. Lila stood, stunned for a moment, then ran over to beat on the doors. “Mez! Mez!” Of course, Mez wouldn’t be able to hear her, and she wouldn’t be able to hear Mez. The doors were sealed, and were guaranteed to contain a near nuclear explosion. They wouldn’t unlock until it was safe to re-enter - either because it had cooled down from its current state, or had exploded and then cooled. Either way Mez’s chances weren’t good. Even if it didn’t explode, it was likely that the engine would superheat the room, killing Mez.

She paced in front of the door, desperately trying to think of how she could get the doors open, of anything she could do to help. Of course, there was nothing. There was literally nothing she could do to help. After a moment the other engineers ran in, and Mez told them what happened. They gave her a pat on the shoulder, then slowly walked out. They knew there was nothing they could do until the doors unlocked.

Every second felt like an eternity, but eventually Lila saw the light by the door blink, and knew she could open the door. She could, but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to. She walked over slowly, trying to remember if Mez would be able to open the door from the inside, if she was still alive.

She got her answer sooner than expected -- as she approached, the door slid open. Lila was afraid to look, afraid to hope, but her eyes were drawn to the door. She took one step, two, then saw Mez step out of the room with a lopsided grin on her face. “Hi Lila.” Lila choked, then ran forward to encase Mez in a hug, tears streaming down her face. “Mez, how, what, how’d you..” Her voice caught in her throat and she couldn’t speak anymore. Mez patted her back gently.

Even through her tears Lila could hear the wry tone in Mez’s voice. “What, you didn’t think I’d heroically sacrifice myself to save you like they do in the movies, did you?” Lila choked out a laugh, then pulled away from Mez, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Seriously Mez, how are you okay?” She scanned Mez up and down, looking for any wounds, anything wrong, then looked past her into the room. Her mouth gaped. Mez looked pristine, but the room looked like a bomb had gone off. She shot her glance back at Mez. “Seriously, how…?” Mez smiled. “There are reasons that only senior engineers can work on certain parts of the engines Lila. There’s also a reason I told you to ask for help. You can’t be an expert in everything.” Lila just nodded her head silently. “I’m sorry Mez. I’m really sorry.” Mez patted her back. “I know Lila. Let’s go get a cup of tea. I think we could both use one.”

[theuntamednarrator]

Thank you @mika--82​ for the question! I’m sorry it took so long but since I really enjoyed plotting out my Cangse Sanren lives au, and I think a lot about the women in The Untamed who didn't get to see their children grow up, strap in for round two of TB Revives the Mothers of the Untamed. This week's episode: Save Mama Lan by killing Lan Qiren \^.^/

(Many thanks to @drwcn​ for letting me borrow her hc names for Mama Lan (Qui Baiti) and Papa Lan (Lan Cenrong). You can read more about them on her blog here and here.)

(Warning for an unsuccessful suicide attempt)

QBT has been isolated in the Jingshi for a decade. She only sees her sons once a month, she isn’t allowed her sword, and her spiritual power is kept sealed

But LWJ inherited his stubbornness from his mum and she's determined to escape, one way or another

LQR is walking by the Jingshi when he feels a massive surge of energy and breaks his first ever Discipline (no running in Cloud Recesses)

He wrenches the Jingshi door open and sees an array that wouldn't look out of place two decades in the future in an alternate universe in a dingy shed behind Mo Manor

LQR breaks his second Discipline in as many minutes (do not make excessive noise) when he screams for his brother before he grabs QBT and drags her out of the array

LQR didn't have time to think, let alone study what the effects of that might be, all he knew was that it was killing her, and that her death would kill the brother he loves more than anything else

The backlash strikes him and he keels over

QBT gathers him up, sobbing and asking why he did it, she wanted to die, why did you do it Lan-er-gongzi? what were you thinking? Your brother loves you

LQR meets his brother’s eyes as he appears over her shoulder, the terrified disciples flanking him a white blur

He smiles and says I know

Curtains on LQR

(alternatively, we can just kill JGS again because ngl that was real satisfying the first time around)

Now the Elders are in a pickle because this may have been an accident but QBT has now been responsible for the deaths of an Elder and Second Young Master Lan

It's decided that the only option is exile

QBT is forbidden from setting foot in Cloud Recesses and the territories of Gusu Lan for ten year and forbidden from speaking to any Lan disciple during that time

She bows, accepts back the plain sword she had yielded when she came through the gates to be married, and is gone before the dawn. LCR watches her leave and then goes to wake their sons

Now, QBT was a wandering cultivator long before she was Lan-furen and actually really enjoys returning to life on the road

I wandered once! I can do it again!

Five years later she meets XXC battling a ferocious demon snake and together they defeat it

QBT definitely doesn’t feel her heart beat a little faster at the youthful face, white robes, and elegant jade-and-silver sword

She answers XXC's graceful bow with one of her own and the two spend a week clearing out the fierce nests of demons on the mountain

The next time their wandering brings them together she is introduced to my good friend Song Lan and hides her smile in her sleeve

Meanwhile in Cloud Recesses without LQR to pick up the slack LCR is forced to step out of seclusion and actually run his sect and parent his children

He does a very good job

QBT has to fight back proud tears every time she hears Twin Jades of Lan spoken of with awe

Ten years to the day of her exile QBT is grinning as she climbs the long flights of stairs towards the gates of Cloud Recesses

Part of that might be the entertaining company she walks with

A young man clutching two bottles of Emperor's Smile and talking so fast she’s only half listening while she tries to figure out if he’s actually taken a breath since introducing himself

Talking at breakneck speed of the young master who had been so strict with him at the gates, aiya Auntie! He was so cold! you should have seen his stony face

QBT only grins harder as WWX climbs the wall, is challenged, and blades flash over tiles (it might bring back fond memories of her own youth)

She slips over the wall while they are distracted and once WWX is silenced she reaches out her hand

You handle your sword beautifully, may I?

LWJ can't even say why - it's too dark to see her face and the voice is roughened after 10 years on the road - but he hands Bichen over without a second thought

She sighs as she runs a finger over the blade and the steel glows, lighting up her face (solely because I think glowy Bichen is very sexy and we should have had more of it in the drama honestly)

Bichen suits you better than it ever suited me, ZhanZhan 

LWJ is emoting all over the place (so embarrassing)

(luckily his back is to WWX because if baby disaster bi WWX saw that smile he would've died on the spot)

WWX of course is still a troublemaking rule breaker and LWJ is still charged with overseeing his punishment

QBT and LXC are united in their LWJ should make friends agenda and LXC inherited his sense of humour and delight for teasing LWJ from QBT

Between the two of them LWJ soon has more friends than he knows what to do with

QBT and LXC co-captain the good ship Wangxian

Of course plot stuff still happens including accidental-marriage-before-a-Quest-Ghost

XXC and SL meet them in Yueyang and when LWJ introduces himself they're thrilled because hey we know your mum! she’s real cool!

They don't trust the clans and they might've heard of NMJ but they know Qui-jiejie and they trust her and so they decide XY will go to Cloud Recesses for judgement

N-wow the twin jades are really deserving of their reputations-HS insists on a Qinghe representative going too

oh me? no no Wei-xiong this has been quite enough adventure for me. Meng Yao you'll go won't you? Dage trusts you and Lan-gongzi admired your *delicate cough* capability *innocent smile*

my.blush.com/embarrassed/yearning agrees

QBT is delighted to see XXC and SL again and happily introduces them to her elder son

SL and LXC almost immediately get into a heated debate over ahistorical fantasy chinese philosophy and/or politics and are instantly bonded

QBT may or may not have instigated said debate with a well-timed quote from a well-known (re: divisive) text

Basically QBT shares my get LXC more friends agenda

SL is, again, the first person (apart from LXC and his parents) to laugh at LWJ's jokes

WWX still refuses to believe this actually happened (the joke and SL laughing) (XXC swears it’s true)

XY is locked in the back hills and eventually a) dies trying to use his hidden piece of the yin iron to break the seals OR b) is rehabilitated by the power of bunnies and become an outer disciple (reader's choice!)

XXC and SL accompany WWX and JC part of the way to Lotus Pier

Cloud Recesses is attacked, QBT and LCR send LXC and MY away with the sacred texts, MY promising he knows somewhere safe to hide

LWJ refuses to leave his parents. The losses are not as bad as in canon, the Wen are beaten back, but LCR and LWJ are both injured

No Good Very Bad Summer Camp with World's Worst Head Counselor WC

No Good Very Bad Turtle Cave of Love

WWX wakes post-rescue with LWJ still there

(Because his parents are holding Cloud Recesses and he knows LXC is safe so he doesn't need to rush off)

JZX, JC, LWJ, and WWX spend a day planning before they split up

(this is hilarious and JC says "fuck" not less than 219 times)

(WWX only almost punches JZX and it only happens twice honestly people should be grateful! he was so restrained!!)

They all return home, LWJ promising to bring reinforcements from Cloud Recesses to Lotus Pier (because it's the most obvious next target. no other reason. just. strategically it makes sense)

WQ sends WN to Lotus Pier to warn WWX when WZL's forces are on their way

When the Wen attack, they're met with a prepared force of 1) YZY and the Jiang Disciples 2) QBT, LWJ, and a contingent of Lan Disciples AND 3) JC and WWX and a gaggle of archers (seriously why tf show the Jiang being so good and then only give us two archery fight scene moments and it’s heart breaking sixth young master jiang dying and some rando ouyang disciple shooting WWX?)

Things get a little hairy but between YZY and QBT they defeat WZL and the rest of the Wen quickly surrender

JFM and JYL arrive just as the battle is ending, escorted by Madam Jin, JZX, LQY, and all the Jin Disciples who were at Cloud Recesses

(WWX: MianMian you came you must have been so worried about me! LQY, ignoring him: Lan-er-gongzi are you okay? WWX: ah Lan Zhan you MianMian really likes you! that’s lucky! LWJ, screaming internally: mn)

(JGS was furious when JZX announced he was joining the campaign but what could he possibly say in front of his battle ready wife without looking like the utter coward of a wet biscuit he is)

Once again WWX is left with a screaming sword, too much curiosity, and too much time on his hands (due to his adopted family being not-dead)

But worse he has now also access to a woman who created an array powerful enough to kill even with her spiritual power sealed

Poor WRH doesn't stand a chance, even without MY spying for the Sunshot Campaign

After the battle QBT&LCR and YZY&JFM shut JGS's bullshit power grab down real quick and JGS sulks like the baby he is (probably in a brothel) while Madam Jin and JZX take over Lanling Jin

JZX hears about MY and the way he helped LXC and NMJ sends a letter of support and JZX is already quite jealous of all these sibling bonds and welcomes Ziyao with open arms

(All of which goes slightly to waste when JZY marries out to the Lan clan slightly less than a year later but hey, at least it's a good alliance.)

WQ takes over the Wen Clan but tears down Nightless City and relocates the capital to Dafan

(WQ: have you been to Nightless City? It’s built on an active volcano. Do you know how bad sulfur ash is for open wounds? Do you know what medical herbs grow in lava slurry? None is the answer. My family are all fucking morons)

(WQ: Not you a-Ning you’re a delight and we’re thrilled you’re here)

Rumour has it a certain immortal was so impressed with the stories of the medical techniques of Dafan Wen that she paid WQ a visit

(Disciples are so reckless after all! One never knows when one might need to be capable of transplanting vital organs!)

Each year WWX and LWJ spend 3 months at Gusu, 3 months at Lotus Pier, and 6 months wandering with XXC and SL

They get "fake married" no less than four times in three years (for the investigation xiongzhang! absolutely no other reason shishu! no other reason at all!) before LXC, MY, XXC, and SL get fed up and barricade them in their room until they talk to each other dammit

(LXC is very grateful MY has gotten so handy with the silencing talismans because the 'conversation' gets uncomfortably loud real quick)

Side note to say Clarity works very well to avert a qi deviation when it's not being actively corrupted, thanks very much, and NMJ lives many, many, many years which would be entirely happy if only NHS would pick up his saber once in a while

He would tell NHS this if he could ever find him

Happy ending!³

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Fairest of them all (final)

The man that approached you had short white hair and and red pupils that stood out against the black Scelra.

"Who... Who are you?" You asked in horror as you backed away from the tall man dressed in black. He gave you no response as he charged towards you with a dagger in hand. You tried to run but the tall male out sped you with ease and tackled you to the ground.

You trashed in his grasp and screamed out in hopes that someone would hear you but he quickly covered your mouth with one hand and he brought down his dagger which he jammed into the ground.

"I can't do it" he muttered in a deep voice as you felt him brush his hand over your face, his blood clinging to your skin.

"You must run away from this kingdom. Never return, don't even look back... He will only seek to-" the males muttered warning were soon cut off by him groaning out in pain, his blood now staining your clothes as he was stabbed by the ravenette male you had met last night. Yet rather then believe that he was trying to save you, you believed that may have also desire to kill you. The gleam of his sword made you panic.

You took the strangers words as you pushed him off and ran deeper into the dark forest. No matter how many times Bruno called out your name you wouldn't respond. As you ran deeper and deeper the males voice faded into nothing more then an echo but even so you were still being watched by Diavolo through his enchanted mirror. He let out a hiss in anger as he slammed his fist into the stone wall. He thought that surely a cold and cruel man like Risotto Nero could have done the job without a second thought but it seemed that even such a man still had a heart.

"Why must I always have to be the bad guy!" He growled.

"Well the only one that should be trusted is yourself" the man in the mirror mockingly said.

"Except me... But I'm trapped in this mirror, however if you were to break this seal with a human sacrifice I'll scar her to your heart's content" the man continued with a mischievous smirk.

"I'm not a fool Illusio , I've already sold my soul to hell by just entertaining your cursed soul, releasing a powerful demon like you would surely be the highlight of my epitaph" Diavolo sneered.

"Fine have it your way, just know my offer is always open" Illusio grinned as he knew that the king would surely break at one point, even while trapped in the mirror the demon still could madden all those who looked a little to long in his mirror.

🍎🍎🍎

Eventually within the dark forest you found a small little cottage. With the door unlocked you entered, hoping whoever resided wouldn't mind you entering.

Inside the house was dusty and grimy, cobwebs strung up in every corner. Yet you still saw little signs that the cottage was not abandoned, plates had been washed and left to dry. You decided that you would tidy up a little to show whoever lived here that you were not up to mischief.

The day seemed to go by in a few hours as you swept the floors dusted the shelves and wiped the windows. By the end you were so tired that you fell asleep on one of the seven small beds.

🍎🍎🍎

Diavolo looked down with burning hatred at the bloodied huntsman who had been captured by his guards.

"I thought I could of trusted you to get the job done" he hissed.

"I told you, I was attacked by suprise... Can you not see my wounds?" Risotto hissed.

"You had no intention of killing her, I saw it all... You told her to run away!" Diavolo yelled causing the male to flinch.

"Risotto Nero, your days of being a huntsman are over because I'll have your decapitated head on a spike!" He roared as his guards dragged the huntsman back to his cell to wait for his impending doom.

"The same goes for Bruno Bucciallati, I'll burn his kingdom to ashes!" He said as he looked at his general.

"Get my army ready for war!" He ordered but his general gave him a nod in disapproval.

"I'm afraid that can't happen, our military sustained thousands of casualties... if we head into war now we will certainly lose" he explained.

"Fine then, begin a lottery of all the young men in my kingdom and have the chosen sent into training" Diavolo hissed before leaving the throne room to check the mirror once more to see where you were.

"Back so soon... you give that girl to much attention" Illusio greater with a small chuckle.

"Where is she?" Diavolo asked.

"She's still in the forest, sleeping inside the cottage of seven old dwarfs" he explained before the mirror showed your sleeping form in a recently cleaned room, your body covered in dirt, dust and blood.

An idea popped into the male's mind, surely after a few days of house labour your skin would become rough and cracked.

"I'll leave her be, her beauty will wither away in days cleaning" he said.

However the male was wrong and your beauty did not fade, nor did you grow tired of helping the seven dwarfs.

Diavolo looked in the mirror once more like he usually did but he screamed out in horror as he felt a tap on his shoulder, the black haired devil was right behind him in the flesh, or as his delusions made it seem.

"How did you-!"

"Just look at the table" the demon ordered. The king complied and saw a cloak as red as blood and a hair comb made entirely of gold.

"The crimson cloak has the power to change the wearer's appearance and despite how pretty the golden comb may be it's not very practical... It will rip and fray even the most silky of hair" Illusio explained before his form disappeared.

"At what cost?" Was all the king could ask.

"Nothing"

🍎🍎🍎

You said your farewells to each of the seven dwarfs as you handed them a bag of baked goods you had prepared for their long day in the mines. Over the past few days the sparkle in your eyes had returned and you found a true sense of happiness in your soul. No longer did you have to live in fear and lies. The dwarfs had taught you that beauty was not what mattered in the world. You had kind soul, you did good and expected nothing in return.

Shortly after you made your way out of the dark forest and into a unfamiliar kingdom to grab a few things from the market. You were looking at the various fruit and vegetables when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. You looked behind and saw the ravenette prince approaching you. You stepped back and into a man which you apologized to before trying to run but the prince grabbed your wrist.

"I'm so glad you're alright dear (Y/n)" he said in a tone full of relief.

"Let go of me" you growled, trying not to attract any attention.

"I'm sorry if I scared you but I had to do it... He would of killed you if I didn't" he explained.

"He was trying to save me, he warned me about someone in the kingdom!" You hissed.

"The king (Y/n), he ordered that man to kill you!" Bruno nearly yelled in desperation.

"You need to stay with me, that way he won't be able to hurt you" he explained.

"No I'm fine" you responded as you pulled his hand off of you.

"(Y/n), do you not understand all the cruel thing he did to you?"

"I do, but I don't want to live with royalty... I found a place where I'm just me without the titles and expectations" you explained.

"And I can give you the same thing-"

"You barely even know me!" You yelled before running away from him once more.

🍎🍎🍎

Diavolo hissed as he looked at his new appearance in a small hand mirror. Short pink hair, hazel eyes and a smaller form with a freckled face. He looked like a child and he absolutely hated it but he had to overcome his disgust if his plan was to work. He knew you were somewhere in the dark woods, it was only a matter of finding you and that was sooner then he expected as you practically ran straight into him.

"Oh I'm so sorry sir" you said as you helped the boy in the red cloak up.

"No it's alright" he said only to realise that even his voice had changed.

"As a matter of fact I've been looking for you" he said.

"Oh what for?" you asked with a sense of curiosity which wanted to make the king to pounce on you, cut you up, nearly strangle the life out of you. The gleam in your eyes showed him that all his hard work of manipulating you to be his perfect wife was crumbling in the span of a week.

"My mother wanted me to give this to you" he said as he held out the golden comb.

"Oh I couldn't take such a thing... It seems too valuable" you replied as you tried to push the gift back to him.

"No you must! My mother is gravely ill and she wants it to be given to you" he lied pushing it back to you.

"Please take it for my mother" he plead.

"Alright" you sighed as you finally took the gift.

"Just tell your mother I hope she gets better" you said as you gave the boy a sincere smile.

"What is your name by the way?" You asked which caught him of guard.

"Doppio, Doppio Vinegar" he responded.

"Well I wish you the best Doppio" you said as you waved him goodbye.

🍎🍎🍎

To the king's displeasure he found out after another week you had never used the comb to brush your hair but instead used it as a means to help prayer to the sick mother who never existed. This sent the king into a fit of rage, he didn't even notice the room twist and distort into a autumn forest.

"You know Diavolo... she's never going to truely love you..."

"All your effort has come crumbling down" Illusio said, his words becoming the king's own thoughts. The king was losing his sanity.

"And if you can't have her then no one will" he said and Diavolo muttered the same thing after.

The king finally looked at the demon who sat on a tall tree made entirely of gold. It shed all of it's leaves and flowers of diamonds grew before producing golden apples, one of which fell right into the king's hands.

"An apple of gold may look appetizing but don't let it's mystical appearance fool you... It is very poisonous, a single bite is enough to kill" he explained with a smile as he looked down at Diavolo.

"What is the exchange?" Diavolo asked, knowing a demon offer was never truely free, eventually there would be a price to pay.

"Your soul will never go to heaven, nor hell... Your soul will be trapped in purgatory" the demon responded.

In a sane state Diavolo would refuse but as the voices grew louder in his head, the thought of any other option to kill you was out the window.

"I'll do it" the male responded as he wore wicked smile. With not a second to spare the male left the room, on his hellbent mission to kill you.

🍎🍎🍎

You were picking apples when Doppio came to see you again. This time he didn't seem right. He was muttering incoherent words under his breath until he noticed you.

Maybe something had happened to his mother, but you wouldn't dare saw just incase it would hurt him.

"Hello Doppio" you created the make while holding a basket of apples.

"Oh (Y/n), I have something I'd like to give you" the male said as he pulled out a shiny golden apple, you could see your own reflection on it's surface.

"A golden apple!" You exclaimed in suprise.

"Yes, and they say that whoever bites into the Apple has there wish come true" the boy eagerly explained as he pushed it towards you.

"No I couldn't, surely you have a wish you want granted" you replied as you gave it back to him. His hazel eyes turned a familiar green.

"No, I want you to have it" he said as he put it back in your hands, his voice almost demanding.

"But isn't your mother sick?" You asked which caused the boy to cackle as he took his red cloak off, revealing that he was the king. You gasped as you looked up at him in horror. The male grabbed you before you even had the chance to run.

"My dear... I'm so sorry, I now see the error of my ways" he said as he clung onto you desperately, you had never seen him like this.

"I understand that I can't make you love me... I'll leave you be... Just please accept the apple as my apology, you can wish for whatever you desire" he said in such a desperate tone.

Gullible little you fell for the males deceitful lies and thought he really had learnt his lesson, so you took a bite from the apple and made a merciful wish for him.

'I wish that Diavolo's heart becomes one that is pure and kind' you mentally wished.

Soon you began to cough and splutter, dropping the apple and holding your throat as you looked as the crazed king. You realised now that it was all a facade but it was to late. Within a few minutes your limp body fell to the ground.

Diavolo tried to grab your body but a yell from the distance spooked the maddened king away, leaving your body where it laid.

Bruno's heart sink, just as he had finally found you again you had been murdered right Infront of him. Tears shed down his face. He held your body and cried until the dwarfs returned to the shock of your death.

The dwarfs saw how saddened the young prince was and offered to build a coffin of glass for your body so the prince could lay you to rest. In a few days the coffin had been made and you were prepared for display in the castle. However it didn't take long for the news to reach Diavolo, even in death you were still seen as beautiful, so beautiful infact that your corpse was on display in Bruno's castle.

It made the king livid. He traveled lone to Bruno's kingdom eager to snatch you body and bring it back with him. In the dead of night he entered the castle and searched until he came across a room enveloped in the moon's light where only a glass coffin was displayed. He slowly approached, he couldn't help but marvel at you.

"I knew you'd come Diavolo, all that I ask is one question... Why did you kill her?" Bruno asked as he made himself known.

"Because of the likes of you worms! I wanted her to myself but every man that saw her believed that she was theirs!" The king yelled in anger as he grabbed a dagger out and charged at Bruno but Bruno dodged and kicked Diavolo back, causing him to lose his footing and smash right through the glass of the coffin. The force of his head slamming on your chest caused the piece of the apple that you had choked on to dislodge and to be coughed out.

The king realised that you hadn't actually ate the apple and by some miraculous means you had just been in a death like state. He muttered incoherent sentences in joy but his insane blabbering was cut short as Bruno stabbed the male, unaware of the fact that you were alive.

Despite on stab wound being enough the prince continued to stab Diavolo over and over again muttering curses and words of hate to the man who had killed the fairest of them all, the males white suit drenched in the blood of the crimson king. He only noticed your breathing after he finally stood up. He felt his heart almost explode with joy. It was a miracle. He threw himself into your form and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered open to see the bloodied prince.

"What happened?" You nearly screamed.

"The king made you eat a cursed apple... He tried to abduct you from here" the male explained.

"Cursed?" You asked in confusion.

"Yes, he told me that the only way to break it was a true love's kiss" he lied as he brushed the stray hairs out of your face.

"True love's kiss..." you muttered, you were taken back by what he told you.

"If you kissed me that means-"

"Yes my dear, I am you true love and you are mine" he softly cooed before kissing you once more. You believed Bruno, there was no other explanation.

You married him believing his lies and in a way Bruno had become no difference to you last last lover that he had slaughtered.

[kanamesharisenwrites]

kh’s story snippet celebration sendoff, entry #6

God, what do I even say about this piece? It's so old - the timestamp from my FF.net import says 2012 - and I don't remember much about it. I almost left it out of this collection after cringing my way through a re-read of the first paragraph. Then, I made myself reframe the narrative.

This piece needs to be here; it shows how far I've come as a writer.

Don't let anyone tell you that fanfic is a waste of time. Just look at this piece compared to my recent projects! I'm living proof that fanfic is every bit as valid for honing your craft as traditional written media

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Sai/Sakura Haruno Word Count: 2931 Genre: canon-divergence!AU Rating: T Warnings: canon-typical violence

... [ hypocritical ]

Pain.

The dull throb of injury greeted Sai as his consciousness reluctantly returned to him. This particular circumstance perplexed him greatly. Had he not been merely put to sleep? Sakura's loyalty was steadfast and her medical skills knew no equal but that of their esteemed Hokage, of this much he was certain. Therefore, the probability that this harm was inflicted by her drug, hastily administered though it was, seemed highly unlikely. No, this feeling was not akin to that of being poisoned. Nor did it seem to come from any external wound; a quick scan of his person negated that possibility. Yet, it was still very clear to him that all was not right or as it should be. His throat felt unbelievably tight, the sensation bringing to mind scenes of Naruto shoving complete bowls of ramen down his throat in a singular motion. Sai's heart raced uncontrollably, palpitating to a foreign rhythm, and his insides quaked. There was something wrong with him internally.

Nearby, his companions began to stir. As they also scanned for injuries, all the while cursing Sakura for her heroic stupidity, it became clear to Sai that he alone suffered from any malady. He rose gingerly, taken aback by how easily he could still function in spite of all his present symptoms, and questioned Kiba for his teammate's last known trajectory. The best course of action, for now, would be to find Sakura before his symptoms got worse. With but a nod, he left his temporary workmates and headed out in search of the pink-haired kunoichi.

Sai dashed through the woodland at breakneck speed, something as of yet unnamed urging him on. Something about the whole situation unsettled him. He should have anticipated Sakura's actions and been ready with a countermeasure. Becoming her victim was irresponsible and now his comrade could be engaged in a treacherous encounter with that traitor, possibly without backup; whether or not Kakashi had caught up to her in time remained to be seen. Her tenacity, even with her insane strength, would be no match for the Uchiha prodigy. It was as clear as needing air to breathe. Surely Sakura herself could see that. She had proven time and time again over that her intelligence was more than adequate. Why then would she willingly engage in actions where death was not only possible but the most probable outcome? The shinobi's stomach lurched, forcing him to stall his forward progress in favor of retching in the forest undergrowth. He had no time to waste now, his symptoms now progressing.

Another half-hour of hurdling over branches did little to ease his discomfort. A cold sweat, unrelated to his current exertions, came over Sai making his hands unnaturally clammy. Barely perceptible, yet uncontrollable shaking started to take a hold of him. His body was starting to go into shock. He would need to find her soon.

Sai lost all track of the distance he had traveled, the trees and thickets becoming but a verdant blur in the peripheral. It was of no consequence anyway. His mind was too clouded to focus on those kinds of details anymore. Instead he focused what was left of his cerebral capacity on what he considered to be his mission objectives: to find and determine the condition of one Sakura Haruno, and to have her administer a thorough health examination on his person. As Sai mentally rallied around these precepts, her chakra signature finally came into range. The worn shinobi redoubled his efforts. His reward finally came into view, accompanied by silver and gold and black, and Sai dropped from the sky with a resounding thud.

"Took you long enough to catch up." A weary, whiskered grin greeted him. "Sakura sure knows how to pack a punch, huh? And not just with her fist."

Sai merely nodded. His exertions had taken a toll on him and for the moment he was finding it hard to catch his breath. Non-verbal means of communication would have to do for the moment. And so his black eyes became intent on catching the attention of a pair of viridian ones. It did not take long.

"Sai? Are you okay?" Sakura gave her blonde teammate her half of their current burden, a half-dead kunoichi, and rushed over to Sai with healing chakra at the ready. "You look awful. My sleeping potion shouldn't have had any adverse effects. Were you attacked?"

The moment she touched his damp forehead, the symptoms began to ease. His heartbeat slowed to a near-normal pace and the tension in his muscles started to give way. "No. I... I don't..."

"I can't find anything wrong with you," the kunoichi replied after letting her chakra probe his entire form, puzzlement showing clearly on her face. "Talk to me, Sai. What's going on?"

"I woke up in pain, but I couldn't locate any wounds. It has to be something internal. I think my body started to go into shock. But..." Though his expression remained stoic, his eyes reflected confusion.

"But what?"

"I do not understand. You haven't treated me, but the symptoms are subsiding."

"Sakura," their tired sensei spoke up. "Check his tongue."

"Okay?" Sakura turned back to her patient. "You heard the man. Open up. Now, what am I looking for?"

"A seal. Danzo placed one on every member of Root. It was supposed to keep them quiet, but I have a feeling it sealed more than just their words."

"Are you sure, Sensei?" The pink head turned towards Kakashi for confirmation. "There's nothing here."

"The seal must have broken when Danzo died." The older man scratched his head. "Normally seals don't work like that. They stay in place even after the one who placed it there gets killed."

"I don't get it." Naruto chimed in. "Then why would Sai's seal be gone?"

"Well, his methods were questionable at best, but he was loyal to the village." Kakashi sighed. "My initial guess is that Sai has some information that Danzo thought may be of use to us in the event of his death. I doubt there's anything wrong with Sai. He's probably just feeling the after-effects of the seal being removed."

"I see. Then it could be possible..." She turned back to Sai, a sudden realization dawning in her eyes. "What were your symptoms? I need all of them in the order in which they appeared."

"Constricted airway, heart palpitations, a dull ache in my abdomen, nausea, shaking and cold sweats."

"Okay. You probably felt your throat, heart, and stomach first, right?" The girl tapped her cheek as she sorted out her theories.

"Yes."

"The nausea came later?" His nod confirmed some suspicions, so she continued with her line of questioning. "What were you doing when it came? Were you thinking about something?"

"I left the others to resume my mission. I..." The words left his mouth slowly, reluctant to be heard. "I was thinking that only a stupid kunoichi would drug her teammates so she could run into a suicide mission alone."

"Sai." His name fell softly from her lips and his eyes became glassy. Her lithe arms lifted to embrace his neck. "I'm sorry I worried you."

The warmth of her body against his was strangely comforting, so Sai chose to mimic her posture. "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes." The word came out as a sob and Sakura squeezed him just a bit tighter. "But I'll be okay."

"Good." Sai closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then detached himself from Sakura. "An injured medic is of no use to her team."

"You stupid..." Sakura paused mid-punch. The faint track of a fallen tear graced his tactless cheek. Breaking his face no longer held any appeal, so she contented herself with a measured thump to his shoulder. "Whatever. Let's just get home."

Chapter 2: reclamation

Running without sparing the slightest moment to turn back, determination and desperation lent their power to her limp limbs. In a maze of ever-growing darkness, she wandered. Alone. The silence filled her soul with dread, its death toll ringing in her ears. How long had she been running, been searching? It felt like countless fathoms of time with the quiet, suffocating loneliness contorting her senses. But onwards she ran just the same, hoping beyond all hope that something, anything would change this state of purgatory in which she found herself. Just what had she been searching for? It had been so long, even she forgot. All that was left was to go on. And though she knew to do so bordered heavily on the side of insanity, on she went. And on. And on. Always running. Always moving forward. She was hurtling herself headlong into her destiny and the outcome, she remembered only as it became too late, was always the same. The electric blade, crackling with some emotion between love and hate, ravaged the recess that once held her heart and ended her struggle. She was caught in the red.

Sakura awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Her hands came to her chest of their own accord, trying in vain to cover the ache of betrayal that now resided there. It was becoming a morning ritual. It took but a moment to collect her faculties, the shock value of such torturous nightmares dulling with each successive night that they had been endured. It had been ten days since her brush with death at the hands of her most beloved and Sakura was no shrieking violet.

The first night had been the worst. In her panic, she had roused the rest of the team and their prisoner with her struggling. When the spell of the nightmare finally broke, thanks to a sound slap from their venerable sensei, Sakura whispered her fake assurances and rearranged her bedroll. She could feel the knowing eyes of the scarlet prisoner on her for the rest of the night. Contempt for her own weakness, rather than that of his discarded pawn, ran through Sakura's veins under the scrutiny of that gaze. Sleep would continue to elude her.

The next few days were but a blur. Arriving at the village, handing in mission reports, and reporting for duty at the hospital were second nature enough that she could perform these tasks on autopilot. She had joined the ranks of the walking dead. It took a couple of days, but eventually, her friends staged an intervention. It took another bit of friendly violence, this time supplied by an indignant Ino, to set her straight, but it was effective. She went to plotting. After all, one should play to one's strengths and Sakura had always been known to have an intelligent head on her shoulders.

It took a couple more days for her to realize that there were holes, numerous and large ones, in the scheme she was cooking up. Like it or not, Sakura was going to have to call in some back-up. Invitations went out and she lost no time in starting preparations. Time would be of utmost importance; some of the major players could not be counted upon to stay in the village for any length of time.

One by one they arrived, exchanging smiles and civilities before being seated at the kunoichi's small dining table. Sakura did a fair job of hostess duties, pouring tea and filling plates with second and third portions, in between fielding off-color comments between the two younger males attending. When the eating and drinking and carousing seemed to slow, she smiled and began clearing the used dishes.

"It was a pleasant meal, Sakura." The silver-haired shinobi seated at the head of the gathering handed over his empty plate. "But what are we really here for?"

"Observant as always, sensei." The girl added his plate to the pile growing near the sink. "I think it's time we discussed what should be done about Sasuke."

"Sakura." Her name came across Naruto's lips as an impatient growl. "There is nothing to discuss. I already promised you that I would bring him home to you. I don't go back on my promises."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking how we intend on doing it." Sakura spoke carefully, making eye contact with all there as she did so.

"We?" The blonde stood up, knocking the chair out from under him as he did so. "Oh no! I don't think so. You're not going anywhere near him again! It's my responsibility. I'll bring him home."

"We've already discussed this." A sigh came from the direction of their sensei. "Sasuke is my responsibility. He was placed in my care."

"No, sensei. It's me he wants and I'm..."

The table between them splintered, a feminine fist having smashed through it in frustration. "Shut up both of you!" The furious kunoichi bit out. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time one of us tried to take him on by ourselves? Huh?  Huh  ?" Sakura paused to look at them. "Well, I do. I see it every single freakin' night in my nightmares. He was going to kill me. And he was going to enjoy it. Now when I say 'we' that's exactly what I mean. So   we   had better start coming up with a plan so   we  can deal with this once and for all the next time we see that traitorous bastard. Understand?"

"Fine. I get it." Naruto gave his sulky consent.

"You know he's not going to come quietly." The reminder came from Kakashi. "It will be easier to kill him than to capture him."

"But Kakashi-sensei!"

"I know, Naruto, but he might not give us a choice."

"It's fine," Sakura spoke up. "If we have to kill him, it's fine. There's nothing left of our Sasuke in there anyway."

"Sakura?"

"Come on, Naruto. We're deluding ourselves if we think that we'll bring him back and everything will be just fine. He wants to destroy the village and everyone it! If we don't do it, the powers that be will just execute him. If he has to die, I'd rather it be by our hands in the manner we think is best. I only see three choices. We kill him, they kill him or he kills all of us. And if I have to pick one, I pick the one where we get to have the most say." For the first time in days, Sakura gave in to the desire to break down.

"No." A soft, monotone voice cut through the discussion. Three sets of eyes turned his direction in wonder. "You are wrong, hag. There are four choices."

Sakura wiped her wet face with the back of her hands. "Sai, I don't understand. What other choice? Do you actually want to try to save him? Is that the choice you're talking about? Why would you? He's nothing to you."

"Please do not misunderstand me. This is not out of compassion. It is just the opposite actually."

"Yeah, I don't get it either." Naruto scratched his cheek in puzzlement.

"He has rejected the bonds he created with all of you. He has caused you pain. Even now, he makes the hag cry." Sai paused to rub his chest. "He does not deserve death. That is too light a punishment for his transgressions."

"What do you suggest?" Kakashi leaned forward, resting his elbows on what was left of Sakura's table.

"There are things worse than death and we will give those things to Sasuke." The smirk he gave them instead of his usual smile seemed genuine, laced with just a bit of malice. "I have a plan."

The rest of Team Kakashi eyed each other, looking for the unspoken cues as to what each was thinking. Each saw what they felt mirrored back at them, but no one wanted to speak up. No one wanted to be the one to confirm their resolve to do whatever it takes. They were about to change the rules. Sakura would regain her heart by first breaking it. Naruto would leave his childhood behind once and for all. Kakashi would learn to put the needs of the many above his own selfish wishes. They would do what their mentors could not. They would be the ones to break the cycle. They would rain retribution upon one of their own.

"Fine. But if we're going to talk nefarious plans, let's take it to the sofa. I'd rather not get splinters." The kunoichi glanced back at the other half of her team. "Oh, and you two owe me a new table."

"But Sakura..."

"Of course. It's no problem." Kakashi covered the blonde's mouth with a firm hand until the girl turned away. "Don't worry, Naruto. Yamato owes me."

"I can hear you guys, you know."

Darkness invaded her dreams once again. She was running, always running. Desperate and determined. Always moving on. Always moving forward. Again, not a person was in sight, but she did not feel alone. The inky air that enveloped her did not frighten her anymore. It felt... alive. She felt the familiar burn of her overexerted muscles. She knew where she was going. She was meeting her destiny. It was unavoidable. She could hear the lightning closing in, causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. But this time as her destiny hit critical mass, the collision with her heart imminent, the crackle of the electric blade was drowned out by a soft trickling of black liquid. The sound grew and grew until it became palpable, swallowing the chidori in its entirety. The red receded and refused to return.

[ankhashiva]

War Of Souls Chapter 16

Heya! ~Yes.It’s here.After a year of this damned writers block.And of course I’m posting it right now, freshly made and translated.I hope you’ll appreciate it!If you like my Julius Novachrono x OC fanfic, please share, like and comment, it means a lot  🥰 War Of Souls: Synopsis:  Two worlds, two sides of the same coin and an enemy wanting to destroy them. It was by wanting to protect the Earth from this enemy that she found herself projected into this other world, gravely wounded, in the Clover Kingdom. A man, whom she took for an angel, saved her life. But what she didn't know is that she should save his in turn. Because the enemy doesn’t just want these two worlds. He also resents these two people who, together, could change fate itself.This story starts a few days before Asta joining the Black Bulls. War Of Souls Chapter 16 : Nightmares and Reality - HERE CW: Angst, lots of sadness, mental torture, LOTS OF FLUFF BE WARNED OMGGGGG WHAT HAVE I DONE???

Previously It is your feelings that give you this mission. Do not reject them.

"I don’t reject them. I just intend to... lock them up if necessary."

It’s a programmed leak.

"It's not you who live with voices in the head. If I don't make this stone, madness will carry me away before."

We are you. And you are us.

"I am Katerina Bella. I am myself, I never wanted to be more."

You have no choice, neither have we.

"That’s why I’m doing this fucking rock. 'Cause I’ve never had a fucking choice."

This is not the way to go. You’re going to hurt more people than you’re going to save.

"It is not up to you to decide. I WILL TRACE MY LIFE AND SAVE JULIUS!"

My fist clenches and plunges into the workbench, breaking it in half. The cut stones roll to the ground, the pain in my knuckles is sharp, the blood beads on the broken wood. I slide down on my knees, exhausted. I put the amethyst around my neck, the cold chain contrasting with my burning skin. I feel my mana calm. I sigh, relieved. My gaze is on pink quartz, polished to perfection in a sphere the size of an orange.

"If I have to seal my heart to save the ones I love, I will do it without hesitation. No one will steal my most precious thing anymore. I will succeed where you failed, ladies. I will succeed where I failed, for lack of guts."

If I am to become... No. To become again the monstrous goddess that I was, I will. But first of all...

The Underworld is waiting for me.

???

Six months.

Six months since my return to Earth, to my home world.

Six months, during which my time stopped. Since Julius' death in Clover. Where Patri gave him the fatal blow, aided by William Vengeance's betrayal.

And where I was forcibly sent home, while the man I love was breathing his last breath.

It ruined my life.

I couldn’t save him, let alone say goodbye.

So I took refuge with my mother and father-in-law, temporarily moving in with them in Lorraine. I found a normal human life there, returning to work as a perfumery consultant in a large company.

I did not want to fall into a daily "metro-work-bed" but, pushed by my mother, worried very much for my mental health, I gave in after a month. I couldn’t, and I still can’t go back to Clover on my own. My powers aren’t strong enough to cross worlds. Aether is missing, there is only Eros and his wife Daphne who are thirty kilometers from my home, to visit me often and to invite me to endless drinking.

The first month of my return, I don’t really remember much of it. The only thing that resonated in my skull was the perpetual hangover that I felt when I drowned my grief in ambrosia, and the echo of Julius' sweet voice.

Drunken parties followed one after the other, my best friend Erika holding my hair when I puked my guts in the bathroom, Daphne handing me water bottles so I wouldn’t die dehydrated.

Even though dying has become a luxury for me ever since I totally became a goddess again. A goddess unable to save the man she loves.

Chronos had won.

I had lost everything.

But what everyone was unaware of, except Eros and Daphne, is that at the end of this month, I had used my pink quartz orb to enclose my emotions. All of my emotions.

All my emotions and feelings related to Julius, sealed in a crystal that I had polished and enchanted myself after my arrival in Clover.

If I had done this sooner, could I have saved him?

That’s a question I probably would never have an answer to. Monday, January 4, 2021

Open the store. Open the cash registers, launch the cashing program, receive the re-supply of the shelves. Prepare online orders. Greet co-workers who arrive one by one. Advise customers, sell them items. Take the lunch break, smoke cigarettes on cigarettes. Look at the pictures on my phone, those of Clover. Smoking cigarettes again on cigarettes. Falling into a picture with Julius. Looking at him calmly, without emotions. Smoking a last cigarette.

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces. Smell the scent of black musk and sandalwood. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this unforgettable fragrance. But not find anything. Tu-dum

Get back on the road after a moment of doubt. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Parking in the garage next to my stepdad’s car, Steve.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, fist bump with Steve. Take a shower, think about the smell after work.

Tu-dum

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone is ringing.

Unknown number.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep watching Steins Gate. Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Open the store. Open the cash registers, launch the cashing program, receive the re-supply of the shelves. Prepare online orders. Greet co-workers who arrive one by one. Advise customers, sell them items. Take the lunch break, smoke cigarettes on cigarettes.

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces.

Feel the scent of black musk and sandalwood again. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this nostalgic fragrance. But not find anything.

Tu-dum Get back on the road after another moment of doubt. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Parking in the garage next to my stepdad’s car, Steve.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, fist bump with Steve. Take a shower, think about the scent after work.

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone is ringing.

Unknown number, like yesterday.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep before the end of the Steins Gate season. Wednesday 13 January 2021

Open the store. Open the cash registers, launch the cashing program, receive the re-supply of the shelves. Prepare online orders. Greet co-workers who arrive one by one. Advise customers, sell them items. Take the lunch break, smoke cigarettes on cigarettes. Watch the videos on my phone, taken in Clover. Smile calmly, the heart still empty.

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces.

For the umpteenth time, smell the scent of black musk and sandalwood. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this unforgettable fragrance. But find nothing, as usual. Tu-dum

Going back on the road, there is no place for doubt when madness has clearly insinuated itself in my mind. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Park in the garage, next to Steve’s car.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, check in on Steve. Take a shower, think about the scent after work.

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone rings, always at the same time.

The same unknown number, who never leaves a message.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep in front of Steins Gate 0. Saturday 16 January 2021

Wake up without waking up. Pick up the phone, see a missed call.

It’s 10:30 in the morning.

Drinking coffee with the family. Eating an almond croissant. Take a shower, get ready, go to Luxembourg with Erika to buy alcohol and cigarettes for the evening at Eros and Daphne.

Go home to Erika, get on her 31, go to the mythical couple at 7pm sharp.

Being greeted by Daphne, always so stunning. Go into the living room, filled with familiar faces. Eros, my cousin James, Uncle Hades, my favorite cousin Persephone. Damien.

Ignore Damien.

Head for the buffet.

An appetizer for dinner.

Eat a few snacks, go to a contest of the biggest drinker with the girls.

Win the said contest.

To be completely drunk.

Smoking marijuana joints, being completely off the grid.

Isolate myself in the veranda to catch my breath. 10pm

My phone is ringing

I can’t stand it.

I pick up the phone. I’m about to scream, but a soft voice is ahead of me.

I recognize it.

Tu-dum

"After more than a week, you finally decide to pick up your phone. It’s a long time coming."

Tu-dum

I hold my hand before my mouth, trembling like a leaf. My knees slip away, I slide to the ground.

I feel the scent of black musk and sandalwood filling my lungs.

Tu-dum

Tu-dum

My heart is contracting painfully.

"Breathe... I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, baby." The bile settles in my throat. I swallow, then I manage to articulate gently.

"I saw you die... the dead cannot call the living..."

A little silence ensues. I must hallucinate. It must be that.

"Turn around and tell me what you see."

I obey mechanically, pivoting towards the bay window.

My vision is blurring.

White, red, gold and purple.

The colorful figure approaches me.

Tears leak from my eyes, my heart contracts painfully after more than five months of hibernation.

My phone slips from my right hand and falls heavily to the ground. A warm and familiar hand rests on my cheek, the thumb caressing the beading tear on the skin. The gold becomes a golden wheat mane by the sun, the violet glitters like an amethyst in the moonlight.

The shape is defined at the same time as my breath is blown.

The face that I missed the most in this world as in the other one finally appears to me and I can no longer rationalize my thoughts, already clouded by drugs of all kinds.

But this face so soft, so strong, so familiar smiles at me.

And the only thing I can do is throw myself into his arms. "Julius..."

I repeat his name again and again, like a litany, a prayer, a vow, to anchor this moment in reality.

His embrace tightens, his right hand on my neck, the other on my waist.

Then, after long minutes sitting on the ground, I step back to look him in the eyes.

Heterocromia eyes staring at his eyes holding the galaxy, the universe, in a purple hue.

Tu-dum

Tu-dum

Tu-dum

My thumb caresses his lower lip, fleshy and soft like a ripe apricot. A wave of well-being overwhelms my heart whose time had stopped. I desire only one thing, to embrace him with all my soul, with all my being.

Julius perceives this desire, his eyes glow brightly and his smile widens.

His hand takes mine, he kisses it. "It will have to wait, my Princess. You don’t belong here."

My trance breaks after he utters this strange sentence. Before my perplexed face, he continues.

"Nothing is a foregone conclusion. Not even this reality. Get out of this prison now. Get up and get out of this house. I opened a path for you."

"But... Julius..."

Julius helps me up and heads for the living room.

"Chronos holds you prisoner. Get out. Ignore the people here. They are illusions. Even I am one."

I look at him one last time, the incomprehension in me. But I obey him. I begin to run towards the crowded living room of my friends... Illusions from my friends. Damien tries to grab my arm, I get rid of his hold. Then Erika tries to hug me but I flee again. I run again, reaching the entrance. I open the door, a blinding blue light floods the darkness. I rush into it.

I'm finally breathing.

116

Tuesday 17 September 2019, during the night

Somewhere in the underworld

Eros felt the Aether's magic fluctuate. It had been more than two hours since the Primordial God had entered the psychic prison in which Katerina was in and he was trying to save her. And as the Primordial God of Love, Eros lent a strong hand to his favorite couple... Or at least, future favorite couple. These two have an extraordinary temporality, the labels are not enough to describe them.

The blue sphere protecting Aether disintegrated and the man landed on his feet, exhausted. Eros rushed towards him, holding him with an arm behind his back. The God of Love sat the masked God on the bench, who took off his mask in order to breathe properly. "Did the Primordial God of Time manage to get his sweet and stubborn half out of this nameless mess?" Ask Eros, already knowing the answer. His pale pink eyes stared at the tall blond, who turned his lavender eyes towards him.

"It took me a few months in that time prison, but yes, I managed to free her."

Eros laughed warmly, tapping on Aether's back. He then handed him a cup of an orange drink that the God of Time swallowed with a blow.

"After that, if Katerina doesn’t understand who you are, I will feel compelled to parade around Clover completely naked, a sign in my hand saying TAKE OFF AETHER'S MASK YOU STUPID GODDESS!" Aether, perked up by the divine drink, leaned his back against the bench, pensive.

"I have already broken some dozens of time travel laws to redirect Katerina to a less bleak future. Her making that quartz sphere was somewhere a chance and a premature act, it created a time fixed point into which I could intrude."

"But in which Chronos could also interfere, and imprison her."

Aether nodded, the features of his face pulling as he thought of Chronos.

"Right. In this life... Kat is literally freewheeling. Her actions are almost unpredictable. I only see them a few days in advance, whereas before I could predict them up to a year in advance depending on gravity. Having created this sphere months before its initial creation disrupted the course of time and of course, Chronos felt it. He took advantage of her weakness to imprison her in her sleep and change her memories. It’s a low blow." Eros replied immediately.

"A low blow that could very well add oil to the blaze that consumes Katerina. She is the Phoenix, even human, every ordeal she has undergone has drastically made her evolve. I wonder how she will react when she wakes up."

Aether scratched his chin, thinking.

"We are at a time crossroads. Knowing her character, she can very well run away for days to put her ideas in order. This time, I can’t predict exactly what his next actions will be. '

Daphne, who listened to the conversation in the distance, joined the two men, with food in hand. Eros and Aether served in the bowl of fresh fruit. "Personally, and knowing Katerina differently from you, I rather think that she will join Julius, kiss him, and then run away for a few days out of shame for having just kissed the man she loves and who she had silently promised to maintain a certain distance." Daphne said, sitting on her husband’s lap.

Eros laughs while imagining the scene.

"You should replace Apollo as an oracle, my dear Nymph." "I have already married one god, I do not intend to replace another." Retorted the interested one.

A slight smile appeared on the face of the Primordial God of Time.

Tuesday 17 September 05h

Tartarus In this part of the Underworld, imprisoning the greatest criminals and threats of the magical world, resounded a guttural cry full of hatred. The deep pit keeping the evil Titan trembled at the echoes provoked by his rage. The seal resisted the attack on his aura, alerting his jailers.

Hades appeared above Chronos' prison, an apparent mocking smile.

The God of Hell felt satisfied. Proud of his niece Rhea-Tayet, Katerina.

Proud of Aether.

The two beings capable of putting his father Titan out of his hinges.

But above all, out of harm’s way.

A small hand caressed his short snow-coloured hair. Hades turned around and saw his wife, Persephone, floating at his height. He wrapped a lock of her pink fleece on his finger.

"Soon... things will soon be better for them." Whispers Hades, hasty.

"I hope so. They deserve to be happy at last." Persephone replied, loud enough for her crystalline voice to reach Chronos.

07am

My eyes open in a heartbeat. I am dripping with sweat, my breath is erratic. I look at my phone and realize several things.

First of all, I’m still in Clover.

Secondly, it was only a few hours between my return home, my nervous breakdown in my father’s workshop and now.

Thirdly, this vision that I had.... This mental prison.... It was so realistic that I thought it was real. My reality.

Julius was dead. Killed by the captain of the Golden Dawn, who harbored an elf soul. I had returned to Earth in the same way I had arrived here, without warning. Chronos had defeated us. I leave my bed to take a shower, disoriented and the heart bruised. Everything around me seems to me attenuated, my brain is numb. My head hurts, and the weight of my wet hair doesn’t help. It seems that I unconsciously used my magic again during my sleep, my hair reaches my buttocks.

I dry myself, put on black jogging pants and a tee-shirt of the same color, put on my grey sneakers and run out of the house, passing in front of Papa in the kitchen, drinking his coffee.

I need to see Julius.

This sentence resonates in my head over and over again as I run into the nature slowly waking up, my lungs put to the test. I take an impulse to the ground and fly in the morning sky, towards the Castle.

I scan the cloister leading to the floor where Julius' office is and my heart misses a leap. Julius

He’s here... he’s really here...

I begin my descent to the cloister he is about to leave and, in a fiery volute, touches the ground, just a few metres from him.

The tall blond smiles at me and astonishment appears before my bewildered face.

I try to catch my breath, my rib cage in full effort, moving fast. The sounds are blocked in my throat.

Julius... you’re alive. you’re really alive. My gasping calms as the eyes of the Wizard King seek an answer in mine.

My body’s not responding.

And for once, I agree with my other two inner voices.

My right leg goes forward, then the left. One step at a time.

Then, my right hand grabs the white fur collar adorning Julius' cape. The left slips on his neck.

I feel the tension in his muscles, the surprise permeating them.

Time stops around us. I stand on my toes and, without understanding what I am doing, slip my lips over his, in a sweet kiss.

He doesn't repel me, though momentarily paralyzed by stupefaction, and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

The kiss becomes urgent, I dominate the dance, desperate, in a primary need to be reassured. My embrace tightens, his lips open, allowing me silently to pursue this unexpected kiss.

Our tongues dance harmoniously together, timidly then intensely. Everything seems right. Normal. Destined.

He tastes so sweet.

Addictive.

The only drug I need.

Time stops around us.

But it’s back in my heart.