#without costing his own like / too much of his life force

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon violence

Word Count: 12, 750

Masterlist: here

Chapter 7 - War Drum Hearts

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Cheering.

A man three times your size throws a barrage of fists at you, he's strong, bone breaking type of strong. He'd crush your rib cage if you let him, but you won't.

I refuse.

Your confused, feeling like something is amiss but unable to remember just why. You are somewhere you know all too well, yet it all somehow feels wrong. More than it usually does, like reality itself is not real.

The sand beneath you kicks as you move, forwards, backwards, sideways, following a cadence of pure, unbridled violence. Imprisoned in a concrete cage for people's enjoyment you dance for them a dangerous waltz that could cost your dance, one you've been forced to dance for too long.

The arena is circular, tall concrete walls ending with metal fences so that spectators could observe the bloodshed happening within its confines. The sand the color of rust from all the lives taken in this deadly prison is the only true clue as to what happens here. Your own blood having tainted the powdery floor so many times it's stained the grains of sand.

Kha la-tastaslimas yadh'haba.

I will not give up.

I won't.

I can't.

So you slip through each of his hits, his weight and size a disadvantage when it comes to speed, slower in his movement than you. Vicious eyes regarding you with a sharp murderous haze while you avoid the flurry of punches, delivering yours each time he prepares his. Weaker yet delivered with a clearer mind, with a need to survive, with a rage too big for your young body.

If I burn him out I can win.

But he's chipping away at you, each graze burning your body, oxygen growing thinner with the exhaustion and body straining. Your confusion gaining on you, making you hyper aware of every sound, every feeling, everything you see. But you bite your lip, bringing your focus back to the fight at hand.

I just have to hold on.

His fist meets your chest and you wheeze, pushed onto the opposite wall, your back hitting concrete while you feel the shattering of some of your ribs. Your vision blurs as you feel pain all over, a hand holding your neck, the other bunched up and beating you black and blue. All your darkening sight can observe is the man's angry face as he beats you, your kicks barely doing anything to his gigantic frame, hands clawing at his forearms yet never stopping his assault.

It morphs from what it is to Keradon's face all too soon.

Thick, bushy eyebrows furrowed, lips in a nasty smirk. His face is sharp, animated by hedonistic, pedantic passion at your pain.

Yet you do not cry out.

Not one time.

Even as you feel life slipping away from you, a snarl growing from the anger rolling below your skin like insidious thunder. Destructive, all consuming, devastating. Your own weakness disgusting you as much as the man in front of you. But you will never give him the satisfaction from extracting a whimper of pain from you, not one cry.

The man who promised you a home and gave you a cage.

The man currently killing you, your eyes rolling back in your head, cheers louder as your body gives up on fighting.

I just have to-

"Come on, my dove. Hold on. You have to."

Your eyes open back, somehow enough lucidity striking you for you to wrap your legs around him, crushing his rib cage from the side. The hand on your neck ceases its grip, allowing you enough leeway to bite, the force of your jaw on the joints of his fingers enough to rip two of them apart. Blood and flesh filling your mouth as his index and middle finger, or at least a parts of them, are caught between your premolars.

His rage filled yell barely resounds against the cheerful chaos of the entertained spectators as you brace your hands on the concrete against you, pushing yourself and him backwards until he falls on his back. The man letting out a pained grunt before you begin to punch and claw at his chest, slowly digging a cavity as he fights back, now both hands around your neck and squeezing so tight you know your neck can and will break if you wait too long.

Strength begins to leave you once more but you continue, legs holding his hostage, hands caked with blood while his chest acts as a scratching post for your sharp, overgrown nails.

You have no time to do anything but fight.

Do not think.

Do not focus on anything but this moment.

Your jaw sets as a heavy gulp passes through your throat, begging for air while the grip on your neck tightens, your vertebrae screaming at the pressure.

I'm not gonna die here.

I can't.

"My dove, don't abandon. Come on, you're stronger than this, fight for Zaun. For me."

I can't abandon.

"Fight for us."

I refuse to give up.

And you punch at the bleeding chest that you've dug into. Hands around your throat growing weaker as bone cracks below your hands, spurring you into continuing once oxygen fills your lungs once more with each painful breath.

You won't die here.

The voice ringing in your mind so familiar yet so unknown. Like a storm you could see from afar, recognizing the phenomenon yet not knowing what it would bring you this time around. But it motivates you, fills you with a strength you felt was your own yet not at the same time.

Keradon's eyes try to keep open, but roll back as your fist finally punches through his ribs and into his chest. The hands at your neck falter, your own unoccupied grip moving to his neck as you squeeze, wishing he'd just die already. So that you could finally be free.

It's warm and wet in the cavity of his body, organs pulsating with life as they slow down from your ministrations yet your hand doesn't stop its pursuit. Picking ribs apart while the man beneath you writhes and screams like a feral, wounded animal, the sounds ringing loud in your ears and nearly rendering you deaf. Then you slip beneath his diaphragm, hand going under his left lung to access the battery powering his organic body.

A heart, beating and pumping the warm, sticky blood over you while you pull it out of its spot, body shuddering at the action.

"Do you really think any of what you've done will make you a hero?"

Keradon all but growls out, pain twinging his voice with what you could only describe as a desperate shakiness, his last attempt at confusing you so that his life does not end by your hands.

"I would never call myself a hero, you've made sure I will never be one. But I can be a wolf. Protect what's mine with ferocious strength, fight until the death for whoever and whatever I consider worthy."

The organ pulsates in your hand, shivering frenetically as if it knew what was about to come.

"And what do you consider to be worthy, little pup?"

The voice deepens and the face morphs again, nearly animal with its elongated snout, eyes sharp and predatory even in such a position, teeth now fangs made to rip apart flesh.

"Freedom."

"We're losing her. Shit!" The voice spits out, panic tinting his voice with shades of despair, shaky sobs choked out by the man's voice. "My dove, come on, fight back!"

"To live, to fight for what's right, to be happy without any guilt over our own existence, to finally prove to the world that our people deserve greatness as much as anyone else…to love."

"Her heart's still pumping, she's not gone yet. Cauterize the wound for Janna's sake!" The unknown man growls, commanding and terrified.

"You won't die then?"

"I refuse to."

"Refuse? Little pup, death awaits no one. It takes."

"It won't take from me, wolf. I refuse its terms. I refuse its presence in this very moment of my life. I refuse it. I will not die. Not like this, not yet. And it will have to respect my wish."

"Or what?"

"Or freedom will be its wish as well."

The beast beneath you sneers, amusement and pride overtaking its angry figure.

"Do it then. Take it. Take your life back from me, child."

You hand squeezes its heart as it laughs deeply, a hand resting on your hand with warmth and comfort you'd find such a monster unable to muster.

Then the heart bursts, your right arm covered messily in blood that is absorbed within your skin as the arena's lights turn off, darkness taking over.

Then it burns, the blood absorbed in your arms feeling like rivers of molten stones, lava in your veins, and your arm begins to crumble. Your yells of pain echo in the vast emptiness as you're brought to your knees, all that's left of your arm being your shoulder while you wail and gasp.

Then you feel the rest.

Your back, your left leg, your ribs…

They burn all the same.

Ashes crumbling where your leg was and leaving nothing but white hot pain, back feeling like skin was pulled apart from muscle. Violently, screams leave you as a light comes to view.

I'm not dying here.

I can't.

I refuse.

No matter how exhausted you drag yourself on the floor. Biting cold nipping at what remains of your leg and arm as you use what you have left to move forward, teeth gritting in agony, ears ringing and eyes tearing up.

"Her heartbeat's coming back to normal, the cauterization worked."

"She needs blood, Silco, she won't survive even after all we did if we don-"

"Take mine. She's done it for me once, there were no problems."

"It will be a lot of it Silco."

"I know Sevika, and I don't care. Just do what you must."

Silco?

Memories flashed through you, of a name that once gave you hope when in the pits, of a man who you saved, who became someone important, who painted the town red by your side. Then came the soft smell of him, tobacco and metal, the feeling of his warm calloused hands, the long black and grey hair you caressed before you went to sleep. The face you loved seeing everyday that you were allowed to live.

Scarred, marked by violence yet forever gentle when the warm teal and frigid orange of his eyes gazed upon you.

The face of your closest friend, of the man who has been offered another chance at life, of the strongest man you know.

The face of the man you love.

You crawl faster, the light coming closer and closer.

Then you remember the latest events. The revolution in the making, meeting Sevika, finding Jinx, Violet and Isha, meeting what was left of Vander. The commune, Viktor…

The fight.

Silco. You need to get back to him. You need to make sure Isha, Jinx and Vi are alright.

So as you glare at the blinding light you let out a war cry, your muscles screaming as you use what's left of your left leg and right arm to aid in your crawling. The cold dtone beneath you nearly pulsing with life, warmth bursting from it each time you move forward until the light engulfs you.

Then you get up with a choked inhale, whistling and pained.

"Silco!"

Your eyes are blinded by all that is around you at first. Unknown smells and voices filling your senses as well as familiar ones.

"I'm here my dove, it's alright. You're alive."

As vision returns to you, you find yourself on your bed, your room soon recognized even if your exhausted, pained state. People are leaning over you, holding your body. You can recognize Sevika, Violet, Caitlyn, Isha, Jinx and the rest is unknown to you, tending to your burning body.

A hand squeezes your left and you see Silco, hair out of its up do and strands of ink black and regal silver framing his shoulders and fluttering around his shoulders with each heavy breath.

He looks positively horrified.

Yet as your eyes find his, the tension in his body leaves him with a loud sigh, leaning backwards on the small, shoddy wooden desk chair with a heavy thud.

"What happened?"

Isha cries and signs what you recognize to be "I'm sorry" again and again before her arms wrap around your waist, Jinx patting her back softly as she looks at you tearfully. Vi looks down, lower lip trapped between her lips before she tilts her face up to meet your gaze with a poorly hidden sniffle, Caitlyn at her side with a loving arm around her waist before she nods at you. Sevika is next to you, holding your shoulders down with a concerned look over her face, her eyes shining with something you could only describe as a mix between devastation and admiration.

"You nearly died to protect Isha, Mrs. Silco."

You turn to the pink haired sister. The last memories you've made quickly finding your way back in your mind.

An explosion, Noxians, Isha holding an overloaded gun towards a mindless, violent Vander, you rushing to save the girl.

And Silco's expression of unbridled hopelessness and desperation.

"Told you not to call me that, kid. Glad you made up with your girl though." You smile at the two and they smile back, albeit with sadness swirling in their eyes.

"Well after the stunt you pulled, I think that's the most fitting title."

You huff, groaning when your ribs pinch against your lungs.

"Careful, smithy. You've got broken ribs, a burnt back, and you've …well let's just say you lost some weight."

"How bad?"

Sevika glances down at the blanket covering you and nods at the medics to leave, they pat your shoulder and wish you well before doing so and you nod in thanks.

"Try to clench your fists and move your toes."

And you do, but something feels wrong, something feels amiss, other than the excruciating pain there are parts of you that you cannot feel. The same ones that you lost in your dream

"Sevika…Pull the covers off."

"Smithy, I don't think-"

"Show me."

She sighs and her flesh arm grips the blanket, her eyes trailing to Silco who looks absolutely wrecked. Tears streaking his face, eyes falling from exhaustion, his arms on the sides of his chair as one is linked to yours with a tube not too dissimilar to the one you've used to transfuse some of your blood to him over a year ago. He nods weakly, eyes trained to your form as more silent tears escape him, his hand gripping yours for comfort, although you know that it's as much for himself as it is for you.

Then cold washes over your body as the warmth is ripped from you, the scarlet fleece covers taken from you by the woman behind you. You breathe shakily, shivers raising goosebumps on your exposed body, eyes trailing towards Jinx who covers Isha's eyes while her face scrunches up painfully.

And you look down.

Your dream flashes in and out of your vision, your left arm and leg disintegrating into ashes as your body burns from within. But what is beneath your eyes is not clean cut like carved stone, no, it's messy, bloody bandages covering ripped flesh.

Stumps instead of a leg and an arm.

A scream rips through your throat as sobs are choked out from the depths of your chest. Your back screaming and ribs cracking under the shifting of your body. The pain now at the forefront of your mind as confusion ebbs away to leave place to utter despair.

Sevika grips your shoulders and forces your head back on the pillow placed over the desk. But despite the strength of her action, her face was soft, pinched in an agony that mirrored yours.

"I'm sorry Smithy."

You had lost parts of yourself, but that wasn't what was the most painful. Isha's health mattered more to you then and it still does now. No what was painful was the horrible realization that you had lost what helped you help people, your means of fighting for Zaun.

What am I going to do now that I'm useless?

I can't make a new body for myself, I can't work, I can't fight, I can't-

"My dove, don't worry. We'll find a way." You hear Silco's voice for the second time since you opened your eyes.

"How? I can't- I can't do anything anymore, I'm useless now, I can't-"

"I'm…making you new limbs..ma- Smithy." Jinx cuts herself off before placing the blanket back on you to spare you the sight of your mangled body.

"Yeah, my sister's a little genius, the whole time you've been asleep she's been preparing blueprints. But she never got around to make them because.. none of us want to leave you."

"You've…Done a lot for everyone Mrs. Silco, even for me unknowingly. We'll be here for you just like you've been for us." You hear Caitlyn's heavy high-Piltovan accent say, your blurry, tearful eyes looking at her at her words.

"We're gonna help you, Smithy. Samira's gone back to her pharmacy with the plants Silco has brought back alongside you, she said that this was as important as bringing you back to health. That she'll keep in touch about how it's all going. But she brought enough painkillers to last a while and enough material so that we can take care of you."

You settle back, trying to calm down yet with the sobs racking through you, you can't help the bursts of pain flowing through your body at each movements.

"You're too important for us to abandon. You're one of us, Mrs. Silco and we're helping you back onto your feet. You've got a revolution to lead after all."

You look to Violet who's now standing at your side.

"I'm sorry for what I've done. I promise to earn my forgiveness. And it begins with this."

You nod weakly to the girl, her hand wiping away your tears as your eyes blur in exhaustion. Your eyes trail to Silco, wondering what would happen after you kissed him before marching into the fray with the same vigor your opponents had, yet as his eyes find yours again you don't find any confusion or resentment.

Only pure love, and a heart wrenching amount of concern.

Exhaustion takes over you again, the voices and figures around you erased into the nothingness of dreamless slumber. There, no pain reaches you, you only float in a warm, empty oblivion.

What will you do now? No matter how much they try to help, something seems to have shifted in the world, and it seems like the war that was brewing insidiously between the sister cities was all but ready to burst now. Will you be ready by the time it happens? Will you be able to help, to participate?

What would happen to Silco and his family?

You know they'll all march into battle, hand in hand, ready to protect Zaun. But are you going to be left behind, too frail to protect what you've built, what you've defended all this time?

Your eyes open once more, the light feeling remaining in your mangled body from the painkillers administrated to you.

Smell returns to you first, tobacco and metal. Then feeling, a hand caressing your hair softly and warmth enveloping you, a comfortable heavy weight keeping you close. Then your sight, the dark room illuminated by the neon lights outside, showing forms huddling together on the floor of your room, covered in fleece blankets not dissimilar to yours. Sleeping peacefully, the chaos of the past few…god knows how long, getting the best of them.

"Why did you do it?"

The low, velvety voice of your friend calls out from your right. You turn your head to see the glowing orange staring at you, eye bags so heavy that you could see them in the dark, cheeks more gaunt than usual, and hair disheveled unlike anything you've seen before from the man.

"Needed to protect the kid, she's important to your daughter."

"But are you not important to me?"

You sigh, wishing you could turn to curl up in his arms but only able to cup his cheek with your left hand, body cracking at the unused joints being extended after so long in bed.

"I couldn't let a child die, Silco."

"I should have known, I should have stayed close. Or I shouldn't have come with you all at all."

"None of what happened is your fault Silco."

"It always is. What I touch crumbles and those I love get hurt, die, or are left shadows of their former selves." His voice shakes as he talks, heavy breaths licking over your face like the heat from your hearth. "I could have lost you."

"But you didn't."

"Yes but I could have!" His whisper raises in a breathy yell to not wake up the girls sleeping on your floor. "What would I have done then? Live without you?"

"Yes Silco, you have your family back. You would have left one day or ano-"

His hand slides from your hair to your face and his lips clash against yours. It's passionate and desperate, he pours all of himself into what remains of you as if it'd undo all the damage, and in a way it does. Your eyes well up with tears before you close them, enjoying his proximity, his taste.

Coffee and tobacco, whiskey biting the end of your taste buds.

His other arm wraps around you slowly, light as a feather although his intentions are heavy, riddled with guilt, self-hatred, remorse, and love.

For you.

"Silco?" You breathe out, still disbelieving of the situation, too much happening all at once for you to believe this isn't just a delirious dream or the afterlife.

"You're the one good thing I have, the one thing that made me be a better man that I've ever been. You've built a life for me, and you haven't left. Even when I was difficult, even when I was anything but good to me. You believed in me and you gave me all that I could ever want. I don't want to lose you, you've been the foundation of my very existence since you saved me, you're…you're everything to me. If I were to lose you, I don't know if I'd be able to live, not anymore."

His breathing is heavy as he leans his forehead over yours.

The Zaunite symbol for love.

Although he can't say it, it all comes rushing to you like a torrent.

He loves you.

He always has, in his own clumsy, wordless ways.

When he cooked you breakfast, when he proposed to hold you in your sleep, when he gave you his dagger the night he caught you sneaking out, when he chastised you for working too hard, when he let you baptize him that day at the river, when he invited you to visit the mines…

He loves you.

"Silco…you've.."

"I have. It was impossible not to."

"For how long."

"Would you believe me if I said since the beginning? I've had to sort out many feelings, many memories, I've had to rebuild so much of myself that had broken and burned…And I couldn't dare to believe you would ever…love me back. I suppose."

You painfully turn to him, unable to resist the urge anymore and holding him with your left arm. His right arm wraps around your waist as your gaze finds his again.

"I believed the same. That once you've gotten back to where you wanted to be, you'd leave. And then when we've found Jinx, Isha, Vi and Vander, I couldn't help but feel that way more so than ever."

He huffs out a scoff.

"I would never leave you. Not even for them. Leaving you would be worse than death to me."

Tears begin to leave your eyes, face nuzzled into Silco's chest as soft sobs burn through your chest and out of your lips, his hand caressing your face and the other softly massaging your hip.

How stupid were you to not notice?

So much could have been done, lived, avoided, if you had only noticed his gaze on you, his actions and his words. Each mannerism so loving and soft towards you only a fool would see it all as friendship.

And what a fool you were.

"God I'm stupid."

He shushes you softly. "You're not. Out of the two of us I believe myself to be the idiot. I should have kissed you much sooner than you kissed me, it'd have saved us much heartbreak."

You nod, yet you do not blame him. Both of you have been denying your worth to the other to the point you could not even see the obvious love you shared.

"I'm so sorry Silco."

"I don't blame you, not for this, not for anything. You've always been a protector, I should have known something like this could happen. I'm not angry, but Janna…I was so damn scared. I've- I've seen you burst in shades of blue, limbs ripped out of you as the battle stopped to stare at your death like some sort of fucking show. I thought I lost you then without telling you-"

You can pinpoint exactly the moment in which he breaks. His shaky voice devolving into gasped words and sobs as his face slides to your neck, tears wetting it as he curls into you.

"I was a selfish man. Conceited, cantankerous, callous and egotistic. But you've turned me into something else, and I've never felt so alive, so happy. I couldn't lose you, I can't lose you. I'm sorry it took me so long my dove, I'm sorry it took this for me to open my eyes. I'm so sorry. For everything."

Your hand brushes his hair, long and knotted from his state of unrest as he shatters within your arms. Sobs melting into one another as you nuzzle your face to his hair and dampen it with your own tears.

All the guilt you've felt at loving him. All those fears at taking too much from him, at keeping him from what he was owed, what he was due, what he deserved, all evaporated at this very moment. All that was left were two naked souls, baring their fears to one another, kisses and tears shared as they fused into one another.

His lips reach yours again and you taste the salt from both of your messy wails. But it doesn't matter, your limbs don't matter.

"I'm alive."

"You are."

"And you're with me."

"Until the end of the line, my dove."

You sigh and press another kiss, greedily taking what you've wanted for months upon months. What your daydreams tortured you with.

"I've felt guilty for loving you because I felt like I took your friendship for granted, like I was using you. I didn't want you to leave but I talked myself into accepting the narrative that I was nothing but a transitory period for you, no matter how much the thought of you leaving hurt. I've never had someone see me like you do, I didn't know what to do, how to think. Especially when I realized just how much I'm in love with you. I was afraid to fuck it all up Sil."

"You could never. Not in my eyes."

The rest of the night is spent huddling up to one another, no matter if hunger struck you after days of not eating. His arms so comforting and warm you fell asleep curled up to him, the pain a faraway memory and nothing compared to how full your heart was.

The next morning you awake to breakfast, Silco softly feeding you as Isha curls up on your side. Jinx having gone away to tinker on her new prototype limbs for you and Violet and Caitlyn heading back to Piltover to check the state of things while Sevika leaves to take care of the Lanes.

Samira arrives soon enough, her arms wrapping around you before she pulls away to do a check up. Your body seems to be healing well enough, two weeks passing from when you woke up the first time, this moment being a week after the explosion.

So nearly a month had passed already.

"I took the notebook you had on you, carved the runes on the machine. It seems to work as expected but the serum still needs a bit of tweaking."

You nod weakly, a smile stretching across your lips.

"I'm glad then Sami."

"Where did you even find those plants?"

"The Herald."

You mumble sadly, remembering Violet's guilt stricken face when she told you that the kind, gentle man had been killed. That it was what led to what happened that night. The followers collapsing, the yells of pain, Vander acting the way he did.

"How was he?" She asks softly while re wrapping your bandages.

"He was a good man. He only wanted to help... I wish I could have done something."

"You already do too much dove, and that's how you've ended in such a predicament. Think about yourself more, please." Silco drawls from besides you, hand gripping yours in a comfortably tight grip.

"I am the last on my list of worries, Sil. I have too much to worry about for me to be further up in it."

"Then I suppose I'll have to do it for you." You smile up at him, cheeks burning as Samira chuckles, coughing out "lovebirds" under her breath.

"The antidote should be ready soon. I'll bring it when it's the case."

You nod in thanks and the woman leaves, Silco's thumb rubbing over the back of your hand enough to settle the pain you constantly feel as his presence brings you comfort.

More days pass without much to say. Sevika is preoccupied by the Lanes, Violet and Caitlyn still nowhere to be seen due to probably taking care of whatever is going on up in Piltover. Isha is still with you, insisting to bring up your meal tray three times a day and to make you as many entertaining games as a creative child like her can, many drawings now decorating papers stacked on your desk.

Silco takes care of the more "adult" side of things. He prepares your food, soothes you to sleep, administers your pain killers, re wraps your bandages and carries you to and fro the bathroom for baths and otherwise.

Even if you hadn't discussed labels, you knew that all this care, and that the new look in his eyes and the many kisses exchanged showed a shift in the dynamic. No longer were you friends, or at least you were now more than simply that.

No.

He's now your lover.

And it becomes clearer every night that you fall asleep in his arms, everyday that he cares for you, what you two have become. No name or nickname used to describe you other than "my dove", dry bitten lips on yours anytime he is near, soft talks about what you two think of each other, about unanswered questions.

"Why did you start calling me that?" You had asked one night.

"Because you bring me peace." He had answered before his lips were upon yours again his forehead soon softly knocking on yours in the loving, Zaunite way that lovers and families use to show their adoration to one another.

After another week, Jinx knocked heavily on your door, strutting in after holding her father and Isha tight. She hugged you softly with a shy look on her face as she presented finished mechanical limbs to you.

"I've made them really functional, 'cause I know you prefer simple stuff that works well over my usual more silly stuff."

The limbs look great. The arm is armored, strong and a soft blue powers it as she turns it on, showcasing the claws at the end of the fingers and the intricate heating process.

"So you can use it on the metal you work with along with your hearth! I also made it capable of generating a shield." She clenches the fist and does a heavy knocking motion with it. All of a sudden a large shield appears, the girl knocking against it with her own hand to show it is entirely physical, before she proceeds to undo it by making the mechanical arm do the motion it first did.

"And you can also rev it up here." She shows the wrist, twisting it as the arm does a purring noise. "And you can deliver a mean hit, on stubborn metal or stubborn people! You also have cool spiky knuckles for extra oomph!"

You nod as she imitates a punch motion with the metal arm, a heavy bust of air following the action and sending the girl flying backwards onto the ground. She giggles before placing the mechanical limb on the bed, the leg now within her grasp.

"This is a just basic leg, but it has the same rev thing as your arm. Basically, stomp your foot." She stomps on the ground with it, the leg whirring to life. "And then you kick!" This time she doesn't kick, Silco softly glaring at her in warning while she smiles at you, eyes big in wonder yet a twinge of hesitation passing through them.

You softly laugh along, your ribs healed enough for you to allow yourself such a pleasure as laughter.

"Come on then little Einstein, suit me up."

She nods excitedly, mumbling about how it would feel weird and probably hurt at first. And it does, your pained whines mumbled while you clench your jaw as Jinx begins by placing your leg on. Isha hugging your waist to give you comfort.

But you get up with Silco's help, wobbling after a month of not walking yet swiftly getting the hand of it. The arm soon follows, your hips leaning against your desk as you savor the feeling of standing after so long in bed.

The pain is excruciating once more, but when you feel the weight of the arm you can't help but sigh in joy. Nerves linked to the hand, you watch yourself clench and unclench, wiggling your fingers around as a soft giggle escapes you. You look at Silco, who is already looking at you with so much adoration that you nearly stumble as you limp your way to him and wrap both of your arms around his shoulders, your forehead knocking against his.

"Come here Jinx." You turn to her, Isha's tiny blue head picking from behind her with a big smile. "You too kiddo."

And you bring both girls into your embrace.

You've never felt so warm and loved, so complete. Yet here you were, held by three people that have stayed by your side through this, even if two of them knew you barely over a month.

"Thank you for this, hon." You cry as you pat her hair, now short and dyed with a streak of purple, the fringe still framing once side of her face like her father's hair does his.

"I know you want to fight, and I know how much you want to help. Staying like that wouldn't have fit you mam- smithy, I had to do this." A shiver racks through you as she shoves her face in your neck, the nickname bringing you to cry once more as you always seem to do lately.

"You didn't have to. But you did it anyways, you're a good person Jinx, never let people tell you or make you think otherwise."

She nods, tears wetting your shoulder.

"Please, call me Powder." You turn to Silco who smiles softly at his daughter, his arm wrapping tighter around you.

"Okay, darling. Powder it is." You kiss the crown of her head before wobbling to a kneeling position, cupping Isha's face with your hands. "And thank you Isha, for giving me my meals and entertaining me every day. I couldn't have possibly stayed strong without you."

You rub your noses together and she giggles her arms wrapping around your neck as she hugs you.

"Up you go!" You carry her in your arms as you stand back up, your body protesting at the movement but you couldn't care less. Everything feels heavier yet lighter at the same time, the metal limbs foreign in weight and texture, feeling obviously lost to them, but their strength helping you carry the child with ease.

Silco hugs you from behind, a kiss on your neck followed by a soft sigh as he placates his chest to your back, swaying you from side to side.

"Ew, cooties."

"Powder." Silco jokingly chastises and you feel a smile grow on his lips as he kisses the point where your neck meets your shoulder once more, his chin soon laying on it so he can look at his daughter. "You've grown into a great woman, I'm proud of you. We both are."

"So…Did you two stop being stupid?" You chuckle, Isha wiping your tears away as you nod.

"Yeah, turns out near death does that to people. A real truth serum if you ask me."

She claps her hands and hugs you, a squeal escaping her lips.

"Thank Janna! It was exasperating to watch really."

Silco snorts and one of your arms leaves Isha as you hand her back over to Jinx, the other pinching behind you at Silco's waist who pinches back at yours.

The girls leave together that day, Samira visiting soon after they hug you tight enough that you could feel your ribs breaking again.

"Thanks for everything mama."

"You're welcome Powder. Thanks for taking care of your father before." She nods with pursed lips before kissing your cheek, leaving with a bouncing Isha in tow.

So now here you are, sitting at the kitchen table with Silco next to you, one of his hands on your thigh, and Samira presenting a vial of a blue liquid to you.

The serum, what you've taken months to make to save Silco from an untimely demise. What could help hundreds or thousands here in Zaun with chemical related diseases from the water, the air…anything.

You could see especially now how much more grey Silco's skin had become. The exhaustion of the past month of taking care of you enough for him to forgo Shimmer completely, perhaps to suffer alongside you. Willing to feel himself decomposing just so he could share your pain.

What you and Samira discovered at the very beginning of your research was that the shimmer, although soothing the pain of the rot, made the healing of Silco's wound stagnate, solely freezing the bacteria's progress as the scratches stayed open and piled with more chemicals. Effectively, shimmer worsened Silco's state, letting it simply stagnate in favor of pain relief, instead of treating it. He had probably known, using it to his advantage to look menacing as the eye of Zaun, yet since no cure had been found after his new life began, he continued seeking shimmer as his only relief.

That time is now over.

"Do you want to tell him, or do I tell him?" Silco looks between you and Samira suspiciously and you sigh.

"Silco." You begin. "Darling." Your voice adds, the word naturally flowing from your lips and the hand around your thigh clenches as his face softens with the same look of adoration you now recognize from months back.

"Remember the project I told you about, the serum and the machine?"

"Yes."

"I may have started it because I know that shimmer is running low after discontinuation and that your infection is spreading. If it gets to your brain you could die, so I…well." You bite your lip in hesitation and he turns more to you, his other hand gripping your chin to make you gaze at him.

"Go on."

"I've taken samples from you, the river, and plants so we could compare and make a serum using shimmer as a base? This is why I worked so hard behind your back, I know shimmer has less of an effect on you and that soon it would be useless, if it didn't run out first at least. I kept it from you because I know you would have refused my help."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes, heart beating fast beneath your rib cage.

"Dove, look at me." Your jaw clenches but you obey, his eyes gazing at you with nothing but love, softer and more intense than you've seen before, ocean and fire clashing in his eyes.

"You've done it all for me?"

"Yes."

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and feather light before his hand reaches his injector in his pocket.

"Then heal the last part of me that is damaged, just as you have done the rest." His voice is soft as he says this, impossibly soft. And you nod, Samira handing you the vial before patting your hand.

"Is that why you've talked to the Herald?"

"Yes, Silco. He…was knowledgeable about runes, the missing part of the machine I designed. And he provided the plants needed to heal you, if he were still…I'd have much to thank him about." Your lips twitch, a knot of sadness tying itself in your throat.

"I think he knows, no matter where he is now." Samira answers back, your hands placing the vial in the injector with practiced ease before you lean over Silco.

Your left hand holds his nape gently while your right metal hand is braced against the marred side of his face, the injector encompassing his sick eye. Black velvet encasing brilliant orange trained on you like its teal brother, his hands soon holding your waist as a "go on" escapes his lips, breathy and calm.

So you do.

Silco always writhed in pain during the procedure, but the new serum seemed to sear him alive. He shakes and groans in agony while you see the blue of the serum penetrate his eye through his pupil, a blue tear escaping him yet the cyan tint that colored his orange iris doesn't leave.

Blue like the rivers in the Freljord, blue like the seas your people sailed long ago to arrive to Zaun, blue like the pure magic of the hex stone you used to create the serum.

The agony doesn't seem to stop yet you can already see a difference, the wet, grey wounds find back a twinge of red, blood irrigating the dead tissue. So you extend your hand towards Samira, hurrying her to hand you a paper towel so you can wipe at the wounds, now more reminiscent of early scarring instead of rotting cuts.

When you softly pass the paper towel on his face, some moist, grey skin comes off, and more blood seems to rush to his skin, his face already looking much better, while his now blue eye trails lazily to you, still fighting off the pain.

"It's working, the wounds look already much better. Samira, we've done it. We've fucking done it." You call out shakily, hands cradling Silco's face as your thumbs rub it comfortingly. "Darling, I know it hurts but what does it feel like?"

He takes a moment to take back his breath.

"I can…see again, my eye sees." He croaks. "It feels like ants are crawling in my skin, it burns but it feels like every time a wave of pain comes, the next is less important. Still hurts like hell though."

Samira sighs and leans back in her chair, a hand raking through her hair as she giggles.

"You crazy bitch. We did it." She mutters happily and Silco nuzzles to your stomach as you squeak.

"You did. Thank you Samira, for helping me even if you knew who I was."

"I owed her a lot, and I'm a doctor, I heal people. Even if you were once a bad man, this could revolutionize medicine in Zaun, I had to try."

"I think we all owe her a lot."

"You can say that again.

"I think we all-" You slap a hand over his mouth while you giggle, Silco licks at your hand and you laugh harder, wiping your hand on his shirt.

Samira groans out "not you too, she rubbed off on you, I'm out" and hugs you before she leaves, handing you a few more vials of the serum in the process. The next few days spent mostly in bed as you enjoy your newly complete body and Silco rides out the pain of his treatment, an injection a day seemingly enough after four more days for his scars to look entirely clean of contaminated flesh. His blue eye now brilliant blue instead of a dull shade, the orange long forgotten.

He seems more clingy as well, always holding you, lips always near or on you. His gratefulness expressed through physical contact and showing no signs of ever stopping. Though you couldn't complain.

It's like the two of you are catching up on a wasted year of constant pining. And you were, at least on your side of things.

Yet no matter how good things were at home, you couldn't help but pull Silco away from the comfort of your small apartment as you go to your shop, taking Sevika's new arm, before walking to the lanes. Your leg and arm feel weird, painful, yet you wouldn't have it the same, even if you limp, even if it feels choppy.

You'll get your bodily functions back before war happens, the thought of it dropping heavy boulders in your stomach. You need to get ready, you need to get your people ready, and mangled body or not you would.

The streets are empty, that feeling of impending doom that hurried you out of the comfort of your home amplified at the emptiness of Zaun. You can feel it, something is beyond wrong.

At the last drop Sevika welcomes you, hurrying you to the bar, yet smiling at you when you notice her putting on the arm you've just brought. A sigh of relief escaping her as she observes it, clenching and unclenching her hand in relief and wonder.

"News are that the Hextech Viktor's alive, and he's gone insane and allied himself to Ambessa to do some real bad shit to the world. As in bring the end of it."

You swallow roughly after her brief explanation.

"No, that can't be right. He's helped me heal Silco! He gave me crucial information! That can't be him." You shake your head.

"Jayce Talis is back." Your head snaps to her. "He's the one who said it, he's gone through some shit and he's seen what he's talking about. Apparently a weird sentient mannequin tried to kill him and Mel Medarda, yes she's also alive, and that was a person. A person that Viktor…evolved, or something. Jayce mentioned something about a glorious evolution."

You sigh and nod, crossing your arms and laying your head above them while Silco takes the lead, the thought of Viktor's kindness transforming into this warped, disgusting vision, enough to make you sick.

"And you want us to rally the Children of Zaun?"

"Yeah, I'm taking care to do that with the Lanes, Jinx is currently rallying the Jinxers. We think about making a small meeting once we've finished this. Get our ideas straight."

She hands you a paper, your head lifting from your hands as you take it.

"Got given this after the outposts were taken down, an enforcer handed that to me personally. It explains a bit more than I can, really."

Your eyes trail over the cursive yet rushed handwriting.

Hello Revolutionaries and friends of Zaun,

It's me Violet. Shit is looking god awful here and I wish I could come down to Zaun to tell you everything in person but this will have to do.

Jayce and Mel are back, Ambessa's got a crazy mage about to ruin both our cities by her side, Viktor, the Herald, and if he reaches the Hexgates we're all toast, beyond fucked.

So we have an army of nearly unbeatable puppets and Noxian warriors against us, so we'll need all the help we can get. Here in Piltover, we've done our best to train as many willing citizens as possible, both Piltovan and Zaunite after knocking down the barriers. The rest is currently being evacuated. We don't know how much time we have and we need your help.

Rally as many people as you can, because if we fail, it'll come down to you guys.

And if we all fail? Then the world is beyond fucked.

So please, I beg of you, Silco, Smithy, Jinx and Sevika, to help us the best you can.

Sincerely,

Vi.

You had been right, war is about to burst and it's worse than you could have ever imagined. Ambessa's will to bring the Noxian way infecting the sister cities before, creating the Kiramman rule, and even now. Viktor, changing from a kind man, willing to do good, to an insane psychotic mage. And all the people now back from the dead, bringing forth bleak news that could be nothing but true.

This wouldn't just be war, it would be a massacre.

"Did you start?" Silco asks, eyes looking over the letter after you hand it over to him.

"Yeah, Jinx too, I told her earlier this week when she came by with the little one."

You nod, so the Jinxers and trenchers were already on board and civilians are far away somewhere safe. Good.

"We'll get the Children on there too." The low velvety voice next to you confirms, and you breathe out a sigh.

"No time like the present Silco." You point towards the exit and he nods back, a quick handshake shared between him and Sevika then a soft knock of his forehead on yours before he heads out.

"How are you feeling?"

"It's strange to have limbs so heavy when you can feel nothing with them. But I have to admit, it's good to be able to get out of bed."

"I get you." You smile at her and she smiles back, a new mechanical arm clasping around your shoulders. "Take good care of the old grump, yeah?"

"As if I didn't already, Sev."

"And take good care of yourself." You sigh and clasp your own metal arm over her shoulder.

"Can't promise much after these news. When's the meeting?"

"End of the week, Sunday around three at the greenhouse."

"We'll be there, you can count on us."

She laughs warmly, her grey eyes looking at you softly.

"I know I can Smithy." She embraces you quickly.

"How's the arm?"

"Perfect." She takes it off of you and rubs your hair, you swat her hand away while chuckling.

"Then I'll take my leave, our people need us."

"That they do, Smithy. Stay safe."

"You too Sev, see you soon."

It all moves so fast. The red smoke in the sky calling forth those of your own who stayed, wearing their red bandannas like a badge of honor around their arms.

You explain it all to them, the threat you are currently facing, your alliance to Piltover in this conflict and all the good that could come out of it for Zaun if you succeeded. You tell them of the risks, the fate that could await many of them, death or even worse being turned into an evolved, murderous, mindless mannequin at the beck and call of an insane sorcerer.

The mission is to fight as hard as you can, provide back up to any and everyone that needs it, because no matter if death brings forth war, starting today you're all united under the same goal. Survival. And you will do better than Piltover has in the past, you will never disregard them, and you will never disregard your fellow Zaunites either.

The answer was clear as you spoke, the war you mentioned albeit different than expected had been coming for a long time. The people that call themselves the Children of Zaun, the people admiring you and working under your ideal have been ready to die the moment they began fighting by your side.

So with a heavy heart you walk to the greenhouse on Sunday, your people rallied and ready to be called upon for war. Silco looks strangely nostalgic as he enters the room, his daughter, Isha and Sevika already sitting down. A mop of brown hair crowning a tall man is also seen, the body leaning backwards on the table with an exhaustion you could understand yet not. The only clue of who they are is the hammer at their side.

This is Jayce Talis.

Creator of Hextech, Councilor…and a dead man back from the afterlife.

"No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?" Viktor had told Silco when they met, and if you could understand it then, now the meaning was even more jarring.

It's as if the whole balance of the world had changed into complete chaos.

"Councilor Talis." You call out and his head snaps up, body moving around the table to meet you. He looks different, coat of ivory yet clothes and armor in the Zaunite forest green you've grown with. Blood red splitting the two like a mark of death. His hair is longer, his beard has grown and his face is marred with several more scars. He looks unlike the boy you've known about years ago.

"You must be the blacksmith. Violet and Caitlyn talked about you, you seem to be faring well, I'm glad."

"As well as someone who nearly died and lost two limbs yes. But there's no time for wallowing, us in Zaun have been getting ready for war for a long time. Our people are ready." He nods at you, hand gripping your metal one in a handshake, his eyes looking to yours then to your mechanical leg in what seems like regret. "You seem…tired."

"No rest for the wicked, I suppose." His eyes are full of a darkness that seem to fester within him, just like the colored veins on his left wrist, wrapped around a stone that is set within his skin itself.

"I guess not." Your hand clasps his shoulder comfortingly and he nods a bit, a small smile on his lips.

His eyes trail to Silco and although his mouth purses, the younger man sighs, going for a handshake with the man too.

"Good to see you on our side, Silco."

"Good to see you've grown, although I wish it wasn't as painful as it looks like it has been. We're glad to have you back around, you were always one of the only trying to make Zaun more comfortable back then. Even through the manipulation and mind games the council subjected you to."

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you healthier. And happier." Silco nods, his eyes gazing at you from the side as his hand clasps around yours.

"Come on Golden Boy, explain us the game plan." A friendly smile stretched on your face, exhausted from pain and the war you've been thrust into so quick into your recovery.

You three make your way to the table, greeting the others. Jinx holds Isha close in her lap, the child focused on Silco and you as she waves, the man next to you waving back with a warm smile, his arm around your waist as he pulls a chair out for you. You turn and kiss him before sitting, him soon following next to you. Sevika smirks, an eyebrow raised at the scene while she flicks her lighter to light the cigarette between her lips, a cigar sliding to her ex boss before he lights it too. A soft groan passing by his lips at the first inhale as he puts the stick to your lips, the smoke filling your mouth with woodsy, spicy notes.

Then Jayce takes his place, standing and hunched over the table, two hands bracing him. His expression is grave, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and pulled down as if gravity itself affected his entire being down to every part of his face. His shoulders heave along with with his armor clad chest, eyes dark before he shakes his head as if clearing his mind from unneeded…no, unwanted, thoughts.

"As you can see, a lot is wrong." The lot of you nod. "The arcane that I wished to use to help the world, help Zaun, has backfired on us. More than a simple energy, it is a capricious, chaotic entity, and it has turned its back on us while also helping me see the way ahead clearly. My ex-partner, Viktor, has lost himself to its call after I saved him from death using the Hexcore, a self learning rune that we have created thinking it could revolutionize the world."

The air grows heavy, so Viktor did die that day at the council, but Jayce Talis, the man looking so solemn and worn before your eyes, had brought him back using a tool they've made to heal and save.

"The arcane corrupted him?" The man nods at your voice.

"Yes. The Hexcore, through whatever means and whatever Viktor did to it to save himself, had developed an obsession with him. A self learning rune soon becoming a sentient being. It saved him, but the cost was eating away at his humanity, his feelings, all that made him himself. I…that night where it all went down, when you've lost your limbs, I killed him. Yet the arcane flowing through him kept him alive, and his corrupted mind has lost itself fully to the unfeeling chaos that magic was pulling him towards. His healing was true, but his powers made everyone into a hivemind, that he now plans to use to evolve humans into mannequins. Not able to tire, be hungry, or even feel. He calls it the glorious evolution. And now fully believes that this is the only way to heal humanity of any ailment, any impurity..any imperfection."

He nearly spits out, eyes turning to you with nothing but guilt as he observes your body but you shake your head, a hand raised to wave him off. No matter what qualms you could have against him, the man clearly knows more than you and if a few body parts were the cost for freedom and safety then so be it.

"What is your plan then, Man of Progress?" Sevika calls out.

"We've recruited and trained willing civilians from both of our cities, yet we know that it won't be enough. Not against an army of nearly unbeatable constructs, nor against a Noxian army. Ambessa, true to her nature, stands by his side to achieve whatever plan she seeks to see through. And we cannot let that happen. Not only for Zaun and Piltover. But for the whole of Runeterra. Violet, Caitlyn and the rest of the strike team will lead the new allied forces up in Piltover while I go to the Hexgates, alone. I will shut them down to take more precautions against Viktor, and I'll be the one to fight him. To…kill him."

His voice nearly shakes at the end, breathy yet choked. But he remains steadfast.

"I thank you, leaders of Zaun, for heeding my call. No matter our differences and our nations' history with one another. We will need all of the people we can get to fight this war, no matter who they are or where they're from. While Piltover will have our main force, you will be our back up, our joker card. Prepare yourselves and stay on guard because as soon as the tides turn against us and our Hextech and manpower cannot hold against theirs anymore, you will come into play. As both distraction and a second wave of allies."

"What's in it for us, Golden Boy?" Jinx calls out, violet eyes trained on the broken man at the head of the table.

"Zaun will obtain free trade routes, blanket amnesty and sovereignty. Hextech is to be destroyed after the battle is won."

"If it is won." Silco adds from besides you and Jayce nods heavily.

"Noxian soldiers are more war machine than human, they do not fear death and they march into the fray with a passion so burning that their steps might as well singe the ground they walk on." You add. "But what of the mannequins, what are those constructs like Jayce?"

"They're agile and quick, beyond anything human, and hold a strength and durability that made the one I've gotten rid of hard to kill even with my hammer. I've had to fight alongside Mel who…is also a mage, for it to even begin to crack."

You run a hand over your face, the other Zaunites looking as distraught as you while all of you take the information in.

"So you expect us to waltz in, us normal humans with basic weapons and no magic, to kill those things?" Sevika scoffs.

"It's the only way. We can try to hold them off as long as possible until my fight with Viktor ends. I won't let myself lose, and if I do…I'll take him down with me, no matter what." His voice grows more and more somber.

"No matter what we think, we have to get in on this. Plus, we've already all rallied our people to the cause. You'll have our help Jayce, not simply out of need but also out of respect. A truce that will lead to a betterment of our lives, all of them. We will not lose, no matter how many people we lose, no matter if we die too, we will not permit this to happen. Not under our watch. We will look the wolf right in its ugly maw and refuse its terms, and it will have to accept."

Your voice rings in the greenhouse as you stand.

"This is bigger than any of us and you will have our support. Will we have yours?"

"You always did."

"Then it's settled. When do you plan on getting to the Hexgates?"

"Right after our meeting is dismissed."

"Jinx." She turns to you, Isha in her arms looking at Jayce with big amber eyes, respect swirling within them.

"Yes?"

"Do you have the Firelights in on the plan?"

She smirks, her eyes glowing with mischief. "Something like that, yes."

You eye her suspiciously, looking at the green paint on her and Isha's clothes in hourglass shapes before your gaze widens.

No, that can't be.

From your expression she can tell you've understood. But Silco and Sevika as well as Jayce look to the girl confused and you huff out a laugh.

"Let's just say you'll get airborne support." That kid. Her and Ekko, the leader of the Firelights who also apparently came back from the dead, will never stop surprising you.

"Then, council dismissed." Jayce's voice calls out, everybody hopping out of their chairs to quickly walk out.

You all shake hands, foreheads softly knocking against one another's between Zaunites as you wish your goodbyes, a tight embrace shared between Silco, Jinx, Isha and yourself. Sevika and you hitting your mechanical fists together before you turn to Jayce, holding the man's nape as you place your forehead on his.

"You care about him, don't you?"

"More than anything in the world…I started Hextech to help the world, but as time went on…I just wanted to help him more than anything."

"Then there may be a chance for you to sway him. Don't lose hope Jayce. It and love are all we have in this world, all that truly matters. Now go get him, champ."

You clasp a hand on his shoulder firmly and he smiles, tension leaving his body.

"You take care of Silco, yeah?"

"As if you needed to ask. Take care of yourself Talis." His hand clasps around your own shoulder as an answer and a counter and you nod. "Don't worry about me and go fight your war, we'll be by your side."

Yellow and red flares bust in Zaun's metal plated skies, calling forth the Lanes and Children of Zaun factions. The roofs and streets filled to the brim with people ready to fight for their lives, with their lives. Clad in the earthy tones of Zaun, they stand, steadfast, determined, strong willed, looking up to Silco, you, and Sevika for orders that they'll follow no matter the cost.

The fight has already begun, explosions and yells heard all the way from the Entresol level as blood and ash seems to rain. You see bursts of Hextech blue,

"This is it, the moment you've been preparing for, yet at the same time it is nothing like it. You expected a war and it is now delivered to you on a silver plate, yet not against Piltover, but against a common enemy. Ambessa Medarda of Noxus, her armies, as well as the Herald and his constructs plan to pull the world under their thumb and crush it. Severing any ties to our humanity in exchange for gods know what. We will not accept their terms and we will fight." Silco's voice echoes through the heavy air, chemicals and tension feeling like lead in your lungs.

"We, as Zaunites, have always fought for our freedom, always rebelled against the status quo. We were ready for war, for death, always ever since Shurima fell millenniums ago. But today, against this threat, we have to ally ourselves to those who have persecuted us for centuries. And I know how it feels, when we have never been helped, to suddenly be expected to fight with someone you hate. But this is a matter bigger than us, bigger than them, it's a matter that concerns the whole of Runeterra. And we will be there, we will fight, not only as Zaunites but as people of this world! We will go there and we will show the world who we are!"

The people rage at the sound of Sevika's voice, cheering and saluting with all they have.

"And if we die? Then so be it. Our enemy is great, greater than all of us combined. But one thing they don't have is unity, emotion, brotherhood…They lack what has made us into the strong people we are, and we will prove them wrong in underestimating us! But we will. Not. Stop. Fighting. And we won't lose. It is not an option we can afford, it is not an option we will accept! So if you see someone clad in blue? Help them, protect them, fight with and for them. The maws of hell have opened and we are about to march into the fray against demons. So tell me, Zaunites. Will you fight with all you have?" You yell out, fists clenched as you watch the people before you, trying to carve all of their faces into your memory so you would never forget them.

"Yes ma'am!" The voices answer in unison, a symphony of strength led by the baton of hope as Silco, Sevika and you act as the conductors of this orchestra of rebellion.

"Will you step into this battle, knowing you may lose everything, even your humanity?"

"Yes ma'am!" They echo, the sound enveloping the whole of Zaun like a choir.

"Are you ready to fight for the respect you are owed, the life you were never allowed to have? For love that would have been taken away from you?" Silco's hand squeezes your right one, the warmth and weight slowing your racing heart through the sheer comfort of his presence.

"Yes ma'am!" They grow louder, hearts beating in unison like a Noxian war drum, as strong as an army, as ferocious as a pride of lions.

"Then brothers, sisters, let's get ready. For the fight is soon to happen, and our help will be needed. We are the last line of defense this world has, and we will not fail!"

The cheers ring once more as Sevika explains the meet up time. An hour from now, you will march towards Piltover, crossing the bridge as you make your way into battle. Ready to fight and to die for what you believe in, the world.

The walk to the bridge is silent between you and Silco, steps fusing with the crowd behind you in a nearly militaristic cadence. Sevika to your right, her own group following her in the same tempo.

The heartbeat of Zaun.

That is it.

As you're looking to Piltover fighting with all it has you can't help but choke out a sigh.

It's the end of the line.

You shiver, eyes glossing over with tears as you think back to all that you've done, how hard you've fought. From the bowels of hell in the Sump, to the heights of Piltover, you've never stopped fighting. For your life, for your people, and now for the world. It's bittersweet to think that the one good thing you've managed to gain will probably slip away from you in this fight. Not your only friend anymore, but your lover. The man whom you've wanted for the past year, finally yours, yet soon to be taken away by the world which placed him in your careful hands.

Silco, who's been taking care of you as much as you did for him.

Who patched you up after every mission, cooked for you, held you so you could fall asleep and always reminded you to care for yourself. The man who didn't hesitate one bit in following you in your fight for freedom, who didn't waver when your death seemed certain, the man that let you see the good and the ugly parts of him despite his hatred for himself. Just because he loves you.

You hated that it took you so long to realize his affections, yet as his hand griped yours you can't help but be glad that you knew even if it is too late. You regretted all the time you could have spent being his, yet as his regal figure straightened besides you, you're just glad you were by his side the whole time. That you were the reason he healed in the first place.

If you were marching to your death, at the very least the man you loved was by your side ready to die after giving all he had, all those years of silently bubbling rage finally coming to a use as you two burn brightly in the chaos of war.

"My dove."

You turn towards Silco, chest heaving shakily as you try to prepare yourself for what's about to come.

"Yes, Silco?"

His breathing is as heavy as yours, his eye patch gone to let the new scarring flesh and the cerulean blue of his iris show. A new, healed, better Silco.

A man who got back all that he's lost and who was ready to let it all go one last time to fight for what he has always fought.

For love.

"I love you."

"What?" You turn towards him, the words foreign coming from him although he's never hesitated in showing you just how important you were to him through every other way.

"I love you, my dove. If we are to die in this battle, I refuse to let monsters or humans take my confession away from me before I can give it to you."

The glossiness of your eyes blurs, leaving trails of tears behind, carving and eroding at your cheeks as Silco goes to hold your face, his rough hands cradling your cheeks before his forehead knocks against yours.

"I love you too. Beyond what any word can explain, beyond what any action can show."

"I was made to love you, by you. You molded me into a man worth loving, my dove, and I can't ever fathom to be able to show you just how thankful I am for all that you've done, and for allowing me to love you."

He kisses away at your tears before your hands make their way around his shoulder, metal gripping his up do and undoing it so you can tug his hair and make your lips meet.

It's salty, not only from your tears but also his who started flowing like a sudden downpour. You are quite possibly going to lose one another today, but it will not stop you from loving.

Quite the opposite.

Behind you, brothers and sisters embrace, lovers share one last kiss, parents hold their children and friends commit to one last clutch. And when your kiss with Silco ends, you put the inky strands back into their usual bun, caressing his scalp as you go, your gaze shifting to Sevika who stands alone as her group follows yours in its initiative.

"Let's go." You take your lover's hand and drag him to Sevika before you hold her tightly, her arms wrapping around you as you feel her shake in anticipation, in fear.

"I hope our sacrifices will matter." Her voice mutters in your neck, muffled words reaching your ears softly.

"We will make them matter, Sev. For Zaun. For the world." She nods when she pulls back, your metal fist bumping against hers.

"Good luck, sister."

"Same to you, sis." You leave her side as Silco steps forward, right hand clasping Sevika's.

He looks proud, a smile stretching over his lips albeit tired and the woman smirks back.

"You've grown into a leader Sevika, what you should have always been."

"Don't get all sappy on me, Silco."

"What can I say, such times call for a bit of sentimentality."

"Your eye..It's healed?" The man nods, his eyes trailing to you with his ever so loving gaze.

"She's done it, for me."

"Then you better come back from this. There's no letting go anymore."

"Fate will not keep me from happiness anymore, and I will fight for it with all I have. So you do that too, Sevika. We will both see you on the other side."

"You can count on it, old man."

They let go before Silco returns to your side, both group following you three as you march into Piltover.

"Good luck, and thank you all." Silco calls out, voices from behind you responding with grateful words and fearful good luck wishes.

You lean towards the man, left hand holding his right and squeezing to stop the shaking of your body.

"If you die I'll kill you, darling." You tell him softly, his right eye widening, the teal snapping to you before a gentle smirk slices through his face, revealing his chipped teeth.

"I can say the same to you, my dove. Now behave, this is a crucial moment." He teases.

"Bite me."

"Perhaps after we're done and have less of a company." His voice deepens, eyes full of fear and determination yet mischief swirls within their depths, something else following it in the whirlpool of his soul. Something hungry that disappears soon after Sevika steps out of the bridge.

Smoke covers all that you can see, shapes and silhouettes are anything that you can make out, yes figures cut through the fog. Fast, white and gilded, inhumanly human in their shape.

Constructs.

Your chest heaves as your hands reach towards your belt, the Noxian knuckle blades held tightly in your flesh and metal grip.

Suddenly your hair is pulled and lips are upon you once more, the tension at the sudden movement quickly melting as your lips mold against Silco's. The kiss ending with panted breaths as he nods at you, your head replicating the movement as your eyes trail back to the smoke before you.

You catch Sevika's eyes and nod.

"Charge!"

And your body lunges forwards, blades cutting through the air as you make your way into the bloody, chaotic battlefield, war cries escaping your own throat and the other Zaunites'.

The war had begun and you would not fail.

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[something-like-air]

For the Naruto rarepair thing, well this may be dumb but how about Orochimaru and Pain / Nagato ? I think it could be an interesting juxtaposition of worldviews, morals and reactions in response to the turmoil of war and the ninja system.

there's a thought!

i think my face value thought is that nagato isn't emotionally available for a like, NORMAL relationship, which is never the end point of the analysis, but it does kind of flavor the type of ship it'll be.

so here's what i would do. au where, some years after yahiko dies, konan dies as well. its? different from what yahikos death was like. konan had been closed off to him emotionally at that point regardless, but she still did a lot of love labor for him--checking on him, looking after him. not too closely, because nagato is very independent, but konan was really the last person who was looking after him.

with konan, it just isnt how it was with yahiko. he inhabits her body, but finds himself using her in different ways - almost like a separate consciousness, trying to make her body fulfill the same role konan herself had. it makes things too emotionally messy for nagato, so he sets the body aside, but keeps it cause its kind of weird.

so this is where orochimaru comes in. he's aware - as a member of the akatsuki - that something happened to konan. she was there, then she wasn't, then she kinda was again? but also not? and he pieces together a rough idea of what happened. he's a smart guy, after all, and this kinda shit is his jam.

so orochimaru is like hey, buddy, it looks like you've got an inconvenient corpse on your hands. i - through the edo tensei - can make her a person again. i might have a favor or two to ask of you down the road, but dont sweat it :)

at that point, i think it becomes a seduction story - orochimaru wants nagato in his debt, nagato knows orochimaru is not offering a good deal (even if he doesnt necessarily know WHY at this point), and orochimaru is aware that he's got an emotional wedge in nagato, if he just keeps pressing on it, meanwhile nagato still has his snow white corpse in a box thing going on w konan.

this most likely ends w nagato snapping and some of the nastiest hate sex u can imagine, both because orochimaru is gonna fuck around and find out, and also because orochimaru is involved just in general.

thank you for the ask!!! this was interesting to think about

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

[solacefish]

✎ File contents - Sebastian Solace x Reader ( 1.3k )

⎙ Examination Results - Sebastian can't handle company, the very thought of another's affection or gaze upon him could make him throw up. So he takes it out on you, by mistake.

⌕ Research Gathered - Angst, Yelling and arguments, Unrequited ( suggested requited ) love, Mentions of his experiments + transformation, Mentions of death, Sebastian can't open up ™.

What did it mean to be loved? What did it mean to love?

Was the dull ache at the bottom of his heart - muffled by mutations and a scarring of who he once was. The tales of his childhood, the sounds of a youth he could never return to. Was that what he longed for? What he dreamt of?

Sebastian didn't dream, he didn't recall the last restful night. Memories stirred between azure eyes, eyes that weren't his own. Nightmares seemed a too gentle term to refer, and terrors wouldn't fully commit to the sickness he felt upon awakening.

The night was the same as any other, having passed out by his desk - having never remembered otherwise. Awoken by the sounds of screaming, echoes of his own against those cold damp facility walls. Never a current sound, always a reminiscent of what had happened to get him into this mess. Always.

Had he remembered to take melatonin from the many drawers that littered the science departments, had he bothered to look at all. The feeling of being lulled, forced, to sleep against his will by medication was not something he happened to be fond of. Not at all.

Running a hand through charcoal locks, hearing the footsteps of an expendable from the outer corridors. Not a moment of rest down here, none were allowed. Had you taken time to rest, you'd have to be risking your life. Urbanshade didn't seem too fond of waiting longer then 5 minutes for their prisoners to move, he'd crossed enough corpses and brain paintings to know.

Awfully so, a facility so willing to kill upon the smallest disturbance.

The expendable crawled through the vent, standing unproud with a ripped wetsuit and cracked mask. Lucky your oxygen tank hadn't been chipped, this whole place was filled with water. He smiles, clasping his hands together and gesturing vaguely to the items that adorned his scales.

"Welcome back .. You already know how this goes, hm?"

He'd recognised you. The one who cannot stay gone - a dead man walking as much as he is. Both of you didn't expire when you were supposed to, and for that you suffer in agony every day.

You nodded, wordlessly walking over to pick up a medkit. He'd noticed a few scratches, a limp on your left leg. Perhaps you'd twisted your ankle, there was enough to run from down here. Enough exercise to be had. They could open a gym, it might be a worthy investment. Rather then experimenting, try new yoga...

"How much?" You look up, and he returns the gaze. Thinking for just a moment, enough to act like he hasn't spent the hours and months down here memorising and practicing the exact amounts of data hed request for each thing he scavenged.

"200. No discount services, never have been. You've been here before, haven't you?" His voice is louder then he remembered. After so long without speaking, he'd forgotten how different the services Urbanshade had cost him from who he was.

You nod, opening the box and immediately giving yourself time to tend to your injuries. wrapping it around a wrist, a leg, anyplace with the crimson bleed that ached to be seen. Sebastian didn't mind the company, but the feeling of nausea that came across his chest the longer you remained was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian," A voice, your voice, brings him back for just a moment. You notice the look in his eyes, and he stirrs where he's stationed for just a moment. "You can talk to me, you know? We're friends, aren't we?"

Friends. Was this a comedy setup?

Sebastian's jaw ached for a moment, letting out an exhale as he remembered the bleeding of his teeth upon his own gums. Whilst biting his tongue and gritting his teeth used to work - it happened to be much more painful after the experiments took place. Unfortunate, but with his humanity stripped away, some sass as a defence wouldn't hurt him as much.

"I don't talk, not to you." He responded bitterly, as if he was straining his voice to keep himself in check. "You remember where you're standing." A huff blew some of the locks out from his face. He didn't see you as any worth, the data you served him so happily was enough to satisfy, however the company wasn't something he was interested in.

"It's nice to open up," You begin, "I know where i'm stood, and I don't mind sitting to be here for you. You're a great guy, honestly, and you need a shoulder to cry on like any other person."

He feels his restraint snap, just a moment. A resistance of a rubber band that had been stretched by a child that moment too far - flicking it at somebody else wasn't enough.

"Don't you fucking dare to call me that." He retorted, his voice echoing off the walls. Sebastian swore he could hear those screams again, of a 19 year old with a life ahead of them. A good person? Were you serious? Were you blind?

A man framed of 9 murders, a man who turned it to 50. How to live with the guilt he was what they made him out to be. A living weapon, with a maw for shredding and tearing, and a claw meant to slide across a throat like butter. To look in a puddle of his self reflection and call himself good? He might as well have let the side effects take him.

You'd flinched, he had noticed, but he hadn't cared. He wanted to make himself clear, for the first time in a long time, to be heard. If you were an unfortunate soul who'd be the one to take his frustrations like a sponge, then he can be the ocean to accompany.

"I'm just trying to help!" You state, he growls. Every bone in his body wanted him to lunge, to rip you apart. The human heart caged beneath the ribs that told him to stop, that ached to be sensitive and free. The DNA that told him to attack, to prowl.

His body was at a war with itself, to tear itself apart. He would never have won.

"I don't need anybodies help!" He yelled, the fins in place of his ears were pinned firmly to the sides of his head. You'd shook your head, and he noticed the reflex that had made you take a step back. You were scared of him. Of the monster before you - had you only just realised he was a predator? He was not ever your friend.

"Please-! I love you-!" The words burst through your lips as the same as sebastians breathing worsens. He can't handle it, it's too much. The sickness of bile in his throat, the acid that threatened to release itself. He wasn't lovable, there was nothing to be adored or admired. You were lying to him, you were pitying him.

"Get out!" There's defiance, the rejection to your words. His body ached, his heart hurt. To be loved was a curse, to love was an unknown. With his breathing heavy, a loud crash as he slammed the vent cover back after you'd scrambled out. He could never be in control of a body that wasn't his to begin with.

Sebastian clutched the sides of his head, the serpentine tail curling around his helpless body. The unfamiliar limbs that tore his soul apart. He could never let himself. He could never see himself ever again.

He hated what it meant to be loved. He hated to be seen, to be known. He hated what they'd done to him, what had become of him. To be loved was to be lied to - to love was to deceive.

Seabstian could apologise later. But he hoped you'd never return. He didn't deserve to await you.

taglist ; @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n

[huggywuggysuppy]

once you finish Empires S1 i'd like to hear your thoughts about esmp1!gem. she's genuinely one of my favorite characters to analyse because she is so nuanced and interesting in so many ways anywhere you look at her. her twisted determination to achieve peace at ANY cost, her rigid thinking and neurodivergency, her relation with symbols like her tower or the end and the moon, or her genuine wish to be a good person and so many other things. there's so much that is impossible to grasp at first (<- <- me, lesbian who is really normal about her favorite gem)

She's right.

Essentially, Gem understands the role a wizard PLAYS in a story. She's never the cause of something, but she sure amplifies both the problems and the solutions. She's morally gray, she's playing both sides, but nobody ever challenges her on that because of course Gem's helping the heroes too -- they need artifacts! She's a plot device, a questgiver, a weapon. She's the voice of reason, the straight man in any comedy duo, yet makes the same questionable decisions as anyone. She's experimenting, she's out of her comfort zone, she's having the time of her life. Wizard Gem is, ultimately, a real wizard.

That's the short answer anyhow. Longer analysis, well, I'm so glad you asked. I can't talk about character without diving into the content creator metanarrative (feature not a bug) so let's get into the noodles! What about Wizard Gem makes her so fantastic?

Wizard Gem is a catalyst.

From the beginning, Gem is mixing up dynamics and forcing new inspiration by opposing what's static. The way the rest of the Wither Rose Alliance sort of? Molds? Around her. How Sausage and fWhip are beefing until the day she alliances with Pearl and suddenly the four are besties. How she adds moral nuance to the villain side, both by mixing relations with the hero side, and just by insisting the Wither Rose are seeking peace, really, they're trying their best! This stops things from being so cut and dry and basic. Instead of Xornoth's vain forces against the heroic bumbling fish people (with the plant and animal empires in between), there's all sorts of messiness and drama. And Gem's aware of this, of how she's changing things, and so the effect is amplified.

On a CC level, even her origins are experimental. Gem was originally planning a more naturey plant wizard, but since Shubble, Katherine, AND Pearl, were plant based (& arguably Joey too) she adapted into amethyst and rocks. And it turned out amazing! That foundation of experimenting made it easier to take larger risks both content and character wise. All the empires folk enjoyed the lore centric storytelling: only getting deeper into it through the season, but Gem especially paved the way for embracing rp and outfits and items and fun.

But back to C! As the Wither Rose alliance progresses, terrorizing the server included, Gem maintains her peace loving stance. Taking on the role as fWhip's (and later Sausage)'s PR managers is genuinely so important to me. She never really stops them from doing bad things, but she's always discouraging them and talking them down one or two degrees. Ultimately loyal to her alliance, she's also taking responsibility for the consequences. Helping out Jimmy behind the scenes to lessen the blow, both for him but also herself.

At her core, Wizard Gem wants peace.

For herself and friends at least. Unfortunately, the Crystal Cliffs aren't in a bubble, so she keeps having to save the world anyway. She dreads conflict at best and fears it at worst. Her concerns are her kingdom, her neighbors, whatever magic / building she's invested in right now, and maybe a light shenanigan here or there. She'll help fWhip get out of trouble because they really do love each other, he's always helping her out too in his own ways (ex: making her stuff,) and she'll protect the realm so the problems stay far away from their doorsteps. When things do eventually fall into her lap, she definitely deals with them. Just... not 100%. Enough that they stop breaking the peace for now.

Let's be honest, Wizard Gem is firmly in denial. She's down for burying the corruption and letting it claim whole towers of her base. Often she'll just accept whatever another player brings to her: buying Scott and Katherines plush, whatever weird scams Lizzie tries on her, etc. When Scott gives her the Elsa curse, she hangs out in the nether, takes Shrub’s dodgy Xornoth cure, and stubbornly "it's fine"-s her way through avoiding a real solution until fWhip drags her to Katherine. It's telling that her (short-lived) corrupted evil version is more confident, while others become hyper or angry. This isn't laziness: it's fear. She doesn't want to step on any toes and start any conflicts. You can see it in how she talks to Jimmy and fWhip: giving them what they need not to win, but to end things.

This is how Gem maintains the story role of a wizard: she's always trying to stop things, so she's never starting new things, only making them better or worse. But how does Gem get away with it? She's simultaneously one of the most invested players in the lore, yet playing a character who'd rather be anywhere else. That dichotomy is entertaining, sure, but there's something else here.

Wizard Gem is loyal, curious, and moral. Just... not obviously.

Gem is unfathomably loyal. While she plays both sides, she's always standing alongside her allies in battle and all her actions are ensuring they're safe. She may be exasperated, yet treats her immediate alliance members with kindness. How fWhip drags her into things, but he never asks her to, it's always Gem CHOOSING to follow him because what else is she gonna do? Let him do it himself? How Sausage makes her laugh with his absurdity, even when they're fighting. How she's always a little uncomfortable, even in her great empire, except in the quiet simple moments with her allies between schemes.

(Still can’t believe roseblings isn’t canon. Like fWhip’s line about how he blew up relations with Scott because he messed with Gem, "it's okay fWhip I'm fine now," their tones, ohhhh devious work. They don't need to be canon, nonfamilial platonic relationships and all that, but STILL. I'm only human.)

Gem's also invested in magic and learning more about it, and she learns to trust and share that with others. The Crystal Cliffs Academy demonstrates growth: from solving problems herself when they’re too big to ignore, to actually addressing things at the source. Explicitly, the goal is to strengthen other empires magic knowledge so less crises happen. That’s preventative instead of reactionary. Even choosing the Ocean Queen as her first student is intentional: not an ally, causes a lot of medium scale ruckuses, in text Gem sensed her using transformation magic that wasn’t hers and wanted to guide Lizzie towards at least controlling it. Start of season Gem would’ve just kept handling any crises herself.

Essentially, Gem is trying SO HARD to be good. As anon said, she has a sort of rigid thinking (again, fun contrast between CC experimental and C rigidity) that creates this fantastic mix where she's staying true to the Wither Rose because she loves them and wants to keep them safe as their friend, but also trying to act for the greater good as a wizard, even though she'd rather focus on her own things. It's not a stable point of view, and is constantly challenged, creating the amazing series of events that we get to see unfold.

Also, Wizard Gem is straight up cool.

Regarding imagery, Wizard Gem has a distinct style that’s so fun to build and draw and write about. She's magical and otherworldly (dragons, the end) but also ethereal and magnificent on a human scale (towers, the moon.) Amethyst itself is inherently unique: something about forming deep under pressure, growing slow and beautiful, sought after as thrones and paths alike. These aesthetics have infinite storytelling potential, and look cute doing it.

And all these things are carried into Gem’s imagery as a whole! Losing her eye to and getting corrupted by the end portal in Life Series, building dragons and towers and villages all across her mc worlds, often using the moon in builds like her hc10 lighthouse. She’s solidly the moon in shinyduo sun/moon dynamic (while they both employ sun/moon all the time, Pearl builds and lores solidly more sun, let alone their comedy dynamic.) Even the struggle between embracing/chasing excellence versus holding herself back out of fear: that's Gem in every world! Emp1 is combining a lot of Gem's themes into one single character. And turns out she's really awesome!

This character wholeness lets Gem maintain her signature exasperated excellence over the other players. Like PVP prowess and building skill, she's an expert here too, and delightful to watch and interact with. Wizard Gem is amplifying everything, trying to keep her loved ones safe, learning that she needs to make peace herself, all while staying true to her beautiful masterful self.

Finally, CC!Gem is delighted to roleplay like this.

Every time she turns to the camera to give disclaimers and talk about her character, there's an infectious joy and "I can't believe this is my job." She often compares it to D&D, which ohh the parasocial brainrot is taking so normally, but also there's an unapologeticness to it. If you don't like her character / the roleplay / etc, stop watching, whatever, this is fun for the rest of us. Her and other CCs have talked about the crippling pushback from playing antagonistic characters -- and there's no shortage of that in emp1, she has to put disclaimers on the RP portions! But unlike Life Series where she's constantly fighting demons (it's own post, really) Wizard Gem is having too much fun to care. I think that's why emp1 hits different, at least for us Gem girlies. She's taking this seriously, and she's having the time of her life.

I originally posted about Worldhopper/Watcher Gem because that adds an extra layer of spice to her in all series, but it's still really awesome by itself. Summoning the dragons from ANOTHER WORLD? Hello?? Don't think I missed her using the nether portal to change skins either. Giggling during convos with Xornoth, undaunted by the Empires Crown, the list goes on. One day someone will assemble all her characters into the same room to compare notes and that someone will either be me or Geminitay herself.

In short, Empires S1 Gem is a Wizard. She's a catalyst, she ultimately wants peace, she's loyal curious and moral, she's straight up cool, and she's having fun. And isn't that just the most magical joy of all?

Anyway, accepting empires fic recommendations in reblogs / directly into my inbox. What a privilege to get to watch so much great art. Thank you for reading!

[changetyre]

Heyyyy I just read something with Lando and he says “I wasn’t asking” and I’m going to need moreeee please & thank you 😍

F*ck you!!! || Lando Norris x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You absolutely despise the way Lando can having you screaming in anger and then pleasure in a matter of seconds…right? Part 1 Here

WARNINGS: **18+**, hate sex

A/N: I love me some hate sex, denying your feelings kinda fics

It was the worse feeling in the world, no doubt. Your first victory was right there, your hands ready to grasp it you could touch it with the tip of your fingers only for it to be ripped away from you.

The race had gone perfectly, exactly as you’d planned both you and your team had done an excellent job in what was undeniably one if the not the best race of your career, making your way up from P12 after a bad qualifying.

No further action

You read and re read the text ready to waltz into that damned stewards office and give them a piece of mind right before lighting the damn building on fire. That’s the amount of rage you felt right now.

Some part of you was absolutely ready to spend the rest of your life behind bars if it weren’t for that idiot of a man you so very much loved to fuck showed up in your drivers room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You scoffed, right about ready to slap him too.

He’d been the cause of it, happily taking the victory for himself without a care that he’d cost you your race and first and well deserved victory completely.

“I came to apologize.” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face that you wanted to wipe off but a fucked up part of you still enjoyed.

“Fuck off.” You shoved him out of the way as you continued grabbing your things scattered around the room to pack them.

“I am really sorry.” Lando repeated.

“Right you really did look sorry when you were happily spraying champagne up on the podium posing for any camera that pointed your way.” You bit back.

“Let me make it up to you then.” Lando grabbed your waist stoping you from moving around the room.

“Don’t touch me.” Lando almost believed you meant it if it weren’t for the fact you made no attempt whatsoever to get his hands off you.

“Wanna touch me instead baby?” That stupid confident smirk appeared on his face again.

“Fuck you!” You huffed angrily looking up at him.

“I bet you do.” Lando laughed before pushing his lip on yours.

You moaned in annoyance but once again didn’t try hard to push him away. Lando basked in the way you accepted it and tried fighting for dominance with your lips which only for today he’d be okay with giving you.

“I hate you.” You whispered as you yanked Lando’s hair back allowing you to trail your lips down his neck.

“I bet you do baby.” Lando only spurred you on as he felt you leaving marks across his skin.

“I do…so fucking much.” You almost moaned the words this time as you ripped Lando’s shirt off him letting your lips continue their journey downwards before yanking his pants down too.

“Show me how much darling.” Lando knew he had to be quiet, despite the fact that your little adventures weren’t secret to many anymore being victims of your loud ventures around the paddock after a day like today it didn’t seem wise to give people more to talk about.

You didn’t feel like prepping him, you quite frankly didn’t care for anything other than taking out your frustration on him, to make him whine and ache at your hands.

So as you began harshly sucking on his length you basked in the way his knees buckled from under him forcing him to find the nearest support to keep himself upright.

He tried to sit down but you were quick to deny him that luxury.

“You sit down and I’ll stop.” You threatened and you reveled in the way he obeyed, straightening up and his eyes begging for more.

Your own cheeks hurt with how hard you sucked him and you knew he wouldn’t last long, and you watched for the tell tale signs carefully.

“Sh*t that’s so good baby.” Lando panted as he gathered your hair in a ponytail.

His head fell back in pleasure, as he tried his hardest to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape his lips.

“I’m almost there…keep going…ah…ugh!” Lando’s groans got louder.

Just as he was about to release you stopped.

“WHAT THE-“ Lando absolutely hated the feeling, the ache that settled in his core with his pleasure being ripped away right at the last second.

“Feels shit doesn’t it.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You little-“ Lando hated the fact that he for 1 second believed you’d make him feel good and forget about today.

“Have fun taking care of that.” You poked Lando’s rock-hard dick before getting up, grabbing your bags and leaving him.

[keferon]

These days, Blurr feels like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, when his legs can barely even support his own weight.  And in a sense, he knows he is.

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

Swindle described it as Blurr being the social shield keeping mecha from being influenced into moving in worse directions.  Blurr…hadn't exactly liked what Swindle was describing.  But, he also understood the necessity of it all.

Only, the problem with shields is that they get hit.  And a good shield has to keep deflecting those blows to do its job – to protect and keep safe.  But for Blurr, it's getting harder and harder to keep up the pretense -- keep up the fight.  Because every time he walks into a board meeting or a press conference these days, it's Shockwave that he comes face to face with. 

The man's relentless.  Eloquent.  Persuasive.  And Blurr has to admit it's wearing him down.

Shockwave's wearing Blurr down with every confrontation – every time he describes how life changing his theories could be if only they could be tested.  The promise that it would change Blurr's life – take things back to the way they were.

And there are days Blurr wishes that were true.  Because these days, Blurr feels like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, when his legs can barely even support his own weight.  And in a sense, he knows he is. 

Blurr is the shield.  Swindle has said it.  Blurr can see it in the way Shockwave's demeanor shifts every time they're in the same room.  If Shockwave prevails, Blurr might get his old body – his old life – back, but countless mecha pilots will be subjected to unimaginable costs.  

The promise of the mecha program will fail.  And mecha is the primary force standing against the aliens' invasion.  If mecha fails – if the efficacy of the program is brought into question…. 

Blurr knows that most people have little idea how fragile the balance is in being able to go about their day-to-day lives, how much mecha does to maintain that balance.  Without mecha, the aliens will gain that much more ground.  Earth, life as they know it may be lost.  And it all rests on him. 

These are the thoughts that spiral around Blurr's head in the quiet moments when he's alone back in the hospital – when he should be resting, recovering. 

Most days, Blurr wishes he didn't know.  Wishes Swindle hadn't felt he had to tell Blurr.  Because the truth is a heavy weight to carry.  Because it was that much easier to stand in front of the crowds when it had just been about him and his face and his fame.  Doing it when he knows the lives of every mecha pilot, possibly the lives of every human on Earth depend on how well he can convince everyone…is hard.  Nearly dying a hero's death pulling people from the crumbling mecha headquarters had been easy in comparison.

Blurr knows what's at stake, so he carries on the fight Swindle's outlined even though it's hard.  But Blurr's not a soldier.  He's used to solving his problems by outpacing them, only there's no getting ahead of this.  There's only the constant grind of meetings and publicity stunts just to keep from losing any more ground than they've already lost.

This -- the lack of progress, the constant work with no motion…Blurr genuinely doesn't know how much longer he can keep up the appearance.  Because that's all it is in the end.  Shockwave's offer – the idea that the appearance could be made reality is taunting him the longer the charade goes on. 

Blurr knows that what Shockwave is promising is likely too good to be true and comes with far too high a price.  Knows that logically there is no magically going back to the way things were as though the crash had never happened – that's just not how life works.

He knows the hope Shockwave's offering is false.  But it's hope nonetheless, and tantalizing because there's a glaring absence of hope from the medical reports he's received.  The doctors had been clear from the start that even with the best possible treatments and outcomes, Blurr would never race again – not in a car, not in a mech.  Life without that feeling seems inconceivable.  As though a very part of what makes him himself had been cut away – lost irretrievably.

Blurr had thought he had come to terms with it.  Because there had been no other choice.  No choice but to stay stuck in the moment of the crash or to find a way to move forward.  And Blurr has always preferred to move.

Now though, constantly presented with the possibility that there could be a third option?  Now he's not so sure whether he has accepted it or whether he's still looking for a way out – looking for somewhere to run.

"Only, the problem with shields is that they get hit."

See?? See this tiny crumbling thing on the floor?? This is me right now. THIS IS WHAT YOU MADE TO ME ARE YOU PROUD

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up. 

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg. 

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault. 

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up. 

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke. 

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. 

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth. 

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said. 

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look. 

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass. 

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM. 

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest. 

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting. 

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned. 

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh.  But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning. 

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled. 

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared. 

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon. 

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air. 

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?” 

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground. 

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. 

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

[dunmesh]

laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

[imaginesheaven]

Medic!reader x TF 141 - friendship headcanons

Warnings: none really; mention of injuries

Captain Price requests especially you for the team since he got a glimpse at your file and got impressed instantly by your skills.

That’s is actually not really  surprising because you are quite the legend under the medics and soldiers. No one knows how you keep so many of your team members alive but you do with a quite high rate. This skill of yours turns you into the most wanted medic probably in the whole British Army.

The team isn’t quite sure how to deal with a medic in their lines. They never had one long enough to get used to them. So, at the beginning everything is a bit awkward for all of you.

Within the first mission you show them that you aren’t only a medic but also a fighter who will give everything to see another day. You even saved Soap’s ass in a quite sassy demeanor.

“Ha, Sarge. You owe me one.” – You wink at him grinning away while the men just share a quite confused but impressed glance.

With that you earned your spot at the Task Force 141 and the respect of their members for the rest of your life.

You love taking care of the boys, but you would never tell them directly. Your preferred love language for them is sassiness in every single situation you can think of.

“How is Soap?”, Price asks as you patch the soldier up, “He will survive … unfortunately. Which is quite the surprise with so much stupidity in him.” – “Hey! I can hear you, Doc.” – “Great, at least you are not deaf so I don’t have to repeat myself…”

Gaz and Ghost keep snickering in the back before you turn around and throw them death glares, “You two are not better than him.”

Captain Price loves that you have to deal with this shit too now in your own way.

Since you are patching them up quite frequently, they are treating you like the Holy Grail itself. You are probably the best protected member of the British Army the world has ever seen.

One of them is always by your side at the battlefield, “We got your back, Doc. Don’t worry~”

You are never worried about your own safety and health. These men would literally jump in front of a bullet for you to keep you alive.

“STOP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER FOR ME! THIS IS EVEN MORE WORK FOR ME!”

Of course, you love them in a platonic way to pieces that they want to keep you safe no matter the cost.

Once on a mission you get knocked out by one of the rookies by accident, “We need a medic!” The poor boy had no idea what he gotten himself into. The team looks at you unconscious on the ground, “THAT IS OUR MEDIC! YOU BRAINLESS PIECE OF …”

Ghost and Price have to hold back Soap and Gaz before the punch the living hell out of the rookie. The poor boy is scarred and traumatized for his life.

Back on the home base they come to you with the tiniest injuries because you are their favorite medic ever.

“What is it, Gaz?” – “Got a paper cut. It hurts.” – “You got … a papercut. Do you want your band-aid with ponies or spider-man?” … “Ponies…”

You already have your first-aid kit ready when Gaz, Soap and sometimes Ghost do stupid shit together.

“Hey, Doc. What’cha doing?”, Price takes the seat next to you. Without a word you hold up the kit and point at the boys, “Working.” Not a second later you already hear the pained cries from one of them. “I have no idea how long you all could survive that long without me…”

Getting the call sign “Doc” from the team even if you had a different one before. Not very creative, but it is short and everyone got used to it way too fast. So, Doc it is.

They would never admit it out loud, but the thought men are scared to lose you as much as you are to lose one of them.

During another mission the enemy got you good with a bullet to your shoulder. There was no way you could take care of it yourself. Since the evac would be in the morning you had a whole night to bleed to death. There was no other way around to save your life.

You gave them a good description and a to-do list how they open the wound to get out the bullet and to patch up afterwards. The hard men watched you with pure fear in their eyes as you get everything ready for them to be the doctors this time.

“You can do this, boys”, you encourage them smiling, but all of you know exactly that your time is running out. They would lose you.

Ghost takes things into his own hands and will be the one getting the bullet out. The Captain stays by his side to assist as best as he could. Gaz and Soap are way too nervous to do anything except for holding onto each other.

“How about you two take care of the watch?”, Price gives them an order to get their nervous energy out of his reach. Of course, they would watch from afar instead of keeping their eyes on the windows.

The pain of opening the wound to get the bullet out of your shoulder gets the best of you. Nothing comes over your lips as you slump forward unconscious. Nothing has panicked these men ever before like your blacked out form not able to guide them through every little step.

At least you couldn’t hear the wave of curse words washing over you. Of course, they still manage to patch you up quite nicely and take care of you. You are wrapped up in jackets to make you comfortable as they watch you through the night.

“Shit, I have never done something scarier than this…”, Ghost couldn’t believe you are doing this so often never getting tired of it. You already earned all of their respect beforehand, but once again they are reminded how amazing you are.

“Doc didn’t even scream just passed out silently”, Gaz can’t imagine how painful that must have been. Secretly he wished to be tough like you one day.

“… Why are you all staring at me? You are so creepy”, it isn’t the best way to wake up with four men staring at you intensely like they did. Still you are very grateful that they saved your ass.  

Back home you pay for the first round of drinks since you are alive and get to see another day with your team.

[cece693]

Could you an Interview with a vampire Lestat x fem reader Louis sister. She’s been sick for most of her life but the last illness that took out the rest of their family got to her. Louis tries to ease his sister���s pain while burying his own but it’s hard to. Lestat turns Louis and is curious about what he keeps in the east wing of the mansion. He sees a sleeping beauty and senses death is also watching. The reader wakes and tries to sit up to be polite/ introduce themselves, since they’ve heard from the servants her brother has brought a guest home, but Lestat turns on the charm and tells them to save their strength. Oh Louis it’s not nice to keep secrets🌹

Sleeping Beauty (Lestat de Lioncourt x GN! Reader)

tags: female reader, open-ended, Lestat being himself, dying reader, no specific Lestat in mind

The air in the east wing of the mansion was heavy with the scent of wilting flowers and fading life. Louis moved quietly, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, the candle in his hand casting flickering shadows along the walls. He took a deep breath before he opened the door to his sister's room.

She lay on her bed like a fragile porcelain doll, the fever having stolen much of her vitality, leaving only the faintest bloom of life on her pale cheeks. She had always been delicate, sickly since childhood, but this last illness, the one that had claimed the rest of their family, had nearly taken her, too. Louis's heart ached every time he looked at her—his only remaining kin. He clutched her cold hand in his, feeling the fragility of her bones beneath her thin skin.

"Louis." she murmured weakly, her eyes fluttering open. Her voice was barely above a whisper, each breath seeming to cost her more than she had to give. "You've brought someone home, haven't you? I’ve heard the servants talking."

“Yes.” he whispered back, forcing a small, reassuring smile to his lips. “A…guest.”

Outside the room, Lestat had been observing. The subtle hints, the secrecy of the servants, the hushed tones of Louis—all had piqued his curiosity. Louis had been a deliciously melancholic creature, so careful to keep certain doors closed. But this—this was different. The east wing had been carefully avoided, like some forbidden garden Louis did not want him to tread.

Lestat pushed open the door without knocking, his presence a sharp contrast to the soft light and gentle atmosphere of the room. The air seemed to grow colder, and even the dying flickers of candlelight trembled at his arrival.

He tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over the frail figure on the bed. She was a delicate creature, her beauty untouched by the disease that sapped her life away, and yet she was fading. Lestat could almost see Death standing in the corner, an unseen visitor waiting patiently.

Louis turned sharply, his body tense, shielding his sister from Lestat’s gaze. “Leave.” he said, his voice low and strained, like a thread about to snap. But Lestat’s eyes were fixed on her. She was a curiosity, a fragile mortal soul teetering on the brink. And, like a cat with a cornered mouse, Lestat found himself intrigued.

The girl, sensing the tension, tried to push herself up, her limbs weak but her spirit evidently polite. “I’m sorry.” she began, her voice barely a breath. “I didn’t mean to not greet you properly.”

Lestat’s face softened into a smile, a beautiful yet predatory expression that seemed to steal the very air from the room. He moved closer, kneeling beside her bed with a grace that bordered on theatrical. “No need for such formalities, ma chère.” he murmured, his eyes catching hers, his tone dripping with dangerous warmth. “Save your strength. You’ll need it.”

He turned his gaze back to Louis, his smile widening with wicked delight. “Oh, Louis. It isn’t nice to keep secrets from me. Especially not such...charming ones.”

Louis’s jaw tightened, his hand trembling slightly as he held his sister’s. “This is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is.” His tone was softer now, meant only for their ears.“Because I can smell it—the scent of death lingering so closely here. You’ve kept her hidden away, like sleeping beauty, waiting for a fate you could neither prevent nor accept.”

Lestat’s gaze flickered to the girl, who was watching them both with a calmness that only came from years of suffering. She wasn’t afraid—no, there was something else in her eyes, a quiet acceptance, a resignation to the life she had been given.

“However, I’ll give her the same option I’ve given you.”

Louis felt a surge of panic rise within him, the very idea of his sister becoming like him—cursed with eternal life, forever tied to the darkness—was almost too much to bear. “Lestat, no.” he breathed, his voice trembling. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s suffered enough.”

But Lestat wasn’t looking at Louis anymore. His attention was fully on the girl, his smile softening, though his eyes held the gleam of someone who saw a rare, precious opportunity. “What do you say, ma chère? Would you like to be free of this suffering? To escape the clutches of death and live beyond the reach of time?”

The room held a stillness that seemed almost alive, each second stretching longer than the last. Lestat watched her intently, his smile never wavering, yet his eyes glimmered with a secret that she couldn’t quite grasp. She was weak, teetering on the edge of life and death, and his words—his promises of a life beyond this one—were both enchanting and terrifying.

“Brother…what does he mean?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What is he offering me?”

Louis's lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn’t know how to explain it, how to tell her the truth about what he had become—what Lestat was. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each more painful than the last. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he also didn’t want her to be lured by Lestat’s honeyed words into a fate she didn’t understand.

Lestat chuckled softly, the sound almost musical. “Oh, Louis, do you see how you torture her with your silence? Your brother is worried, ma chère, but he should not be. What I offer is freedom—from pain, from weakness, from death itself.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of fear crossing her face. “You speak as if…as if you’re some kind of…” She trailed off, uncertain how to finish the thought. “What are you?”

Lestat’s smile widened, his fangs glinting ever so subtly in the dim light. “Ah, now you’re asking the right questions. We are something different. Something eternal. And I am offering you the chance to join us.”

Louis stepped forward, his voice breaking with desperation. “Please, don’t listen to him. You don’t know what he means. You don’t know the cost of his offer.”

She looked between them, her breath shallow, but eyes determined. "I don't want to die, brother."

Louis's face fell, his expression a mix of despair and helplessness. His grip on her hand tightened, his desperation clear in the way his fingers trembled against her skin. “I know.” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know you don’t want to die. But what he’s offering…it’s not life.”

She could feel his fear radiating from him, could see the torment in his eyes, but her own fear of death—a slow, creeping end she had felt drawing closer every day—was stronger. She had lived with the shadow of death her entire life, felt its cold breath on her neck as she lay in bed, too weak to move. She was tired of it. Tired of waiting for the inevitable.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, her heart torn between the brother she loved and the lure of a life free from suffering. She could see the anguish in Louis’s face, the way his soul seemed to cry out in protest. But she could also see the hope, the promise of something more in Lestat’s gaze.

“I want to live.”

Lestat’s smile widened, his expression one of pure, almost childlike delight. “Oh, you will, ma chère. You will.”

[animeyanderelover]

As a second request, How would Muzan react to S/o who committed suicide, but later he finds out that she was reincarnated as a demon slayer, and she became a Hashira? Thanks!

@kanaosprotector @leveyani

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, violence, controlling behavior, abduction, isolation, manipulation, death, blackmailing, mentions of suicide

Suicidal s/o gets reincarnated as a Hashira

🩸He has been trying to downplay your suicide for centuries yet even after all of this time he has never been able to let go. Perhaps this is the curse of his eternal life as his feelings have never changed for you. Everything has been painted in bitterness, frustration, anger and somewhere deeply burried beneath it all an ache Muzan doesn’t want to acknowledge. You couldn’t live with him, couldn’t bear the possessiveness, the control and the verbal abuse you had to suffer whilst beneath him. Only a few memories of yours were once where he had treated you nicely with hints of affection but at the cost of your own will being broken beforehand. Out of fear to lose yourself and the fear of an eternal life as a demon subjected to his control, you took your own life and thus escaping to a place where Muzan was too afraid to follow you.

🩸His ego has never recovered from your death nor has it ever acknowledged the reason for your suicide as his own fault. All you would have needed to do would have been to obey him yet even such a simple task had been too much for you. You were such an ungrateful little thing. He carries on with his life as he searches for the Blue Spider Lily but your absence for forever has left a weight that he can’t ignore no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that your death hasn’t affected him as the nearly perfect being. Yet it irks him. It irks him that you thought of him so little that you would choose death over him. Death. The one thing he is afraid of. The one place he can’t catch you. You’re gone. Truly gone without even him being able to do anything and perhaps it is his own helplessness that anguishes him at times although his pride would never let that thought enter his head. So he makes you the scapegoat of all the boiling emotions that have been haunting him ever since your death.

🩸Those feelings, as confusing and persistent as they may be, eventually are passed down to the demons he creates with the help of his blood. His feelings of twisted love, of all the seething emotions he carries around because of you, slumber in all the demons he has created after your death. Not one of them is aware that they carry a piece of their master’s memories and feelings within their cells as the only possible trigger to unlock them has long been dead. Until he disposes of one of his Lower Moons after they have been forced to report to him that they had to flee from a mission Muzan had ordered them to do as a Hashira was sent there and nearly killed them if it wouldn’t have been for them sacrificing their minions and threatening the village close by. The Demon King is enraged by those news, red eyes quivering with wrath as he’s just about to dispose of the useless creature. In the face of their knowing death, the demon cries for mercy and comes up with every excuse possible. It’s in the face of their fear that they tell him about the weird memories they had whilst trying to survive from you.

🩸No one should know your name. No one should know what you look like. Yet this pathetic pawn of his knows sacred knowledge, hidden knowledge, that only Muzan should know of. It is the reveal of this piece of information that spares the pathetic Lower Moon temporarily from their death but their fear never dies down as Muzan never lets go of the intensity he radiates. Instead a weird glimmer appears in his eyes as their words force emotions to resurface that have barely let go of him for hundreds of years. Claws dig into their skull, forcing blood to spill out from the wounds as Muzan orders them to tell him everything. Cries reverberate through the Infinity Castle as the demon spills out everything, begging for mercy before their existence comes to a brutal stop as Muzan disposes of them as soon as their last usefulness has vanished.

🩸Feelings he has been barely able to suppress for centuries all break out of him as soon as he has processed those news. A restlessness all of a sudden overcomes him, one that doesn’t allow him to idly relax. He has to know. He needs to know if those words the disposed demon told him in between all their weak cries are the truth. He knows that his pawns would never lie to him yet it is still hard to fully grasp. The phenomenon they described of those fleeting memories they had when seeing you disturb him. Will all of his subordinates react in such a way if they were to face you? Would it prevent them from seriously fighting you if the Hashira is truly you? He knows that he is above the demons he creates yet his own blood that he has used to create each and every one of them seems to react to you. A weird feeling of dread fills him that he tries to reject. Is his own blood that prone to weakness because of you that it even affects those he transforms?

🩸He has always bathed in the glory of his own self-aggrandizement. He has no weaknesses. In a way your presence challenges him in two different ways. One of them involves his own emotions and how much you truly mean to him deep inside his hearts. The other one challenges his perception of death. He has always believed that after death everything is over. It should have been over for you on the day you took foolishly your own life. Yet apparently there is a spitting image of you walking around and fighting demons as a Hashira. Is it really possible? Reincarnations have always been a mystery that have never been scientifically been proven? If you have truly reincarnated, has your soul stayed the same? Do you have any memories of your previous life? So many questions yet so little answers. He needs to have you. He needs to see you for himself, needs to feel your skin and take in the look in your eyes. If you truly are reborn in this world once again, Muzan won’t make the same mistake he has done hundreds of years ago again.

🩸He sends an Upper Moon after you as soon as he has collected as much information on you as possible about your current location. His orders are strict and clear. You may be injured but you are not to be killed and will have to be brought to him. After that his only choice is to wait and the time he has to spend waiting has his whole body itching with impatience he hasn’t experienced before. Eventually, finally, you are brought to the Infinity Castle. Your sword has been broken, your bones have been broken and you are covered in blood yet the fire in your eyes hasn’t extinguished. As soon as Muzan sees your wounded state, he instantly lashes out on the Upper Moon who has brought you here. He may have told them himself that a few injuries are fine but the sight of the damage inflicted on you in person, even if not nearly enough to threaten your life, enrages him. Veins start appearing on his head as he beheads the Upper Moon in his petty outburst before he tells them irritated to leave as they regenerate.

🩸He can see how you are extremely cautious, your eyes observing his every move. This is after all the man who is the source of all evil. The Demon King himself. He can see the slight glimpse of fear in your eyes yet you’re not wavering in front of him, facing your frightened feelings. His own eyes are observing you just as sharply, roaming over your form to confirm his suspicions. You look exactly the same as he remembers, even the scent of your blood is the same. A look of defiance is on your face as he towers right above you, the look in his eyes as intense as ever. You prepare for the worst but the feeling of his hands cradling your face catches you off-guard as he leans his face down a tad bit, a conflicted frown suddenly appearing on his face. Do you remember him? Your bamboozled look when you hear his question speaks for itself.

🩸You find yourself stuck and imprisoned in the Infinity Castle from that day on, unable to find a way out of the maze of corridors and doors. The only person you see from that day on is Muzan who always seems to gauge your every reaction with such an obsessive curiosity that it catches you off guard. Even if your memories might not have returned, even if they shouldn’t return, Muzan won’t make the same mistake twice. He almost feels like destiny has returned someone that should have been with him all along those last few centuries. This time he won’t let you do anything stupid again. This time you will learn to appreciate the value of the affection he feels for you. This time you will learn to worship and appreciate him as your reason for living. He won’t allow you to escape from him ever again. He won’t let you escape to the realm he is most afraid of.

[discoonthegrass]

Watched The Search for Spock for the first time the other day, and wow this movie is such a tragic love story I’m in awe:

Kirk reflects in his personal log that he feels very uneasy, like a home without the children except even more empty (basically implying that even his “spouse” is gone)

Jim feels that he’s left the noblest part of himself (Spock is a part of him apparently) on the new planet

Sarek automatically assuming that Kirk holds Spock’s katra (why would he assume that if they were just friends)

“Your son meant more to me than you could know. I would’ve given my life if it could’ve saved his.”

Sarek essentially forcing Kirk to relive the worst possible moment of his life, and Kirk tearing up all over again

Jim saying he has a responsibility to Spock’s eternal soul “as surely as if it was his own” (if this isn’t admitting they’re soulmates idk what is)

Jim directly being told that if he goes through with this, he will never sit in the captain’s chair again which has always been shown as the most important thing to him, yet he completely ignores that and goes to warp speed because now nothing matters more than getting Spock’s soul to its resting place

Even in the middle of an intense confrontation with the Klingons, Jim’s face still betrays his hope and joy after he hears about the “Vulcan scientist [he’s] acquainted with”

Jim BLOWS UP the Enterprise instead of surrendering to the Klingons because he can’t give up on saving Spock now, and barely even mourns since he’s already lost someone more important

Jim demanding that Spock get beamed up and the Klingon captain refusing because he can tell how much Jim wants it/cares for Spock

Jim immediately rushing to Spock’s unconscious body and shielding it with his own, draping Spock’s body over himself in a protective “white knight” stance

Unlike everyone else, Jim is restless during the fal-tor-pan, wanting to be with Spock but being prevented from doing so and resorting to pacing instead

Jim not even asking about how Bones is faring but immediately wondering about Spock

“I had to do [it]. If I hadn’t tried, the cost would’ve been my soul.”

Sarek even points out that Jim paid with his ship and his son, but Jim genuinely feels it was worth it

Spock, having just been revived, is supposed to leave to get healed but is compelled to turn back — he cannot recognize any of them (not even McCoy who he literally cohabitated in the same body with) except Jim

Spock asking why Jim came back for him, and Jim responding “because the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many” (the reverse of the Vulcan philosophy—he’s saying it was illogical but he needed Spock back and Spock too needed him)

Spock parroting the “I have been and always shall be your friend” line, then finally identifying him as “Jim”

Jim’s face melts into the biggest smile ever seen on his face, even as he’s tearing up from joy

Suffice to say, I love this movie and will be considering it a romance with a side of action from now on.

[klausysworld]

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a klaus oneshot where the reader is enemies with klaus but klaus finds out she has cancer and is all alone and begins to fall in love with her or something like that.

I totally understand if you don’t want to do or you’re uncomfortable with it.

I’ve Got You

(This is on a very sensitive subject, please don’t read if it will upset you too much and know that if you are suffering or know someone who is, nobody is alone)

Cancer was something that had torn up Y/n’s life. It caused her to push people away all of the time. She didn’t want to be too close to anyone, not when the doctors couldn’t tell her how long she had left.

For a while they thought that the cancer had gone but she didn’t want to risk anything only for it to come back.

So she continued to be closed off, even from her own family.

Being Elena and Jeremy’s sister was hard enough, let alone growing up having cancer. Having two parents who were involved in medical care was both a dream and a nightmare. They made her live according to their timetable and their rules as to what would ‘help’. She knew, even as a child, that her family struggled much like any family would struggle to afford treatment and research and she hated herself for costing them so much.

She was kept separate from her siblings, built little to no bond with them. When her parents died, there was nobody to care for her or at least give her hope. She couldn’t afford hospital bills on her own, she had to seek out other family, like Uncle John and he did help however when he lost his life, she lost the chance of hers.

The people at the hospital knew Y/n well, they wanted to help best they could. She was supplied with medication in the form of pills to at least somewhat control the cancer and they had hope that she would be able to take part in a chemotherapy treatment program that would take place within the next year. That was as much hope as she could have to go on.

And she tried to hold onto that, she would imagine the day that they told her she would be able to live her life full without so much risk.

But at the same time, she didn’t really believe it would happen for her. Not anymore.

Sometimes she wished that a vampire would just kill her, out her out of her misery. Other times she wanted to survive everything her dreadful life threw at her and live a long healthy life to its fullest.

It was why she was so up and down with how she behaved. It was why the way she was around certain people changed so drastically, like Klaus.

Sometimes she wanted to see how many buttons she could push, she wanted to make him kill her so at least it wasn’t cancer that took her out. Other times, she just wish he’d disappear and leave both her and her family alone.

She would wonder if, had no vampires ever turned up to Mystic falls, if she would have been able to connect with her siblings some more, if Jenna would have given her some hope.

Those thoughts made her mad, but also sad. That’s when she would get snappy. Sometimes she didn’t mean to annoy him but she couldn’t help herself.

But unfortunately it made people dislike her which in some cases was a good thing because it meant people wouldn’t miss her if she did die but it also meant that she was even more alone.

Y/n was too young to deal with something so big, it was no surprise she didn’t know how to manage it. The problem was that nobody else knew how to either and so she was forced to try do it herself.

The medication she had been on since young caused an imbalance of hormones and had stunted her growth in areas. It made her hair thin and caused her to become feeble and delicate to an extent. Of course she tried her hardest to build up her strength but she wasn’t stupid, she knew it was much easier for her to become out of breath, to become exhausted or hurt. It was because of this that people like Damon would dismiss her and why she would be cast aside without any explanation. Not that she needed a reason, she already knew.

In some ways, she liked that Klaus didn’t know that she had cancer. He would be boisterous around her, tease and taunt her like he would anyone else. Because to him, she was like everyone else. She wasn’t a delicate little thing that needed to be avoided and fixed.

Sometimes he could go a little far, once he had her by the throat, cutting off her airways as he threatened her. He didn’t know that after he left she was spluttering blood all over the floor as she coughed and wheezed for air. She struggled for it anyway, she didn’t like someone taking it from her. But she never said anything to him, of course she was a little more cautious but she enjoyed pissing him off when she could.

When she was little, kids were cruel. If she wanted to play, they would give her funny looks and say they didn’t want to play with her. They acted like she was contagious, or an alien. She hated it.

So even if Klaus’s attention was ill intended, at least it was directed at her.

————————————————————————

Klaus originally saw her as another inconvenience. He met her when he was in Alarics body, when he went over to the Gilbert’s house to harass Jenna and frightened the others. Turns out their sister Y/n also hadn’t been clued in on who he really was. She had wondered down the stairs still in her pyjamas, smiling subtly at him and going to the cupboard to grab some biscuits. Once she had sat down and began munching, Stefan was storming in and telling her and Jenna to run. At that point Y/n just looked tired and begrudgingly got dragged out the house by a hysterical Jenna.

The next time was at a hospital after he had taken Elena from senior prank night. She was sat in the waiting room, lead across the seats as though she had been there hours. He came and sat beside her, spoke to her and told her to tell Damon to never threaten him again. She agreed without compulsion and kept her trap shut about anything else.

The following few times he saw her, she was less tired and more firey. That’s when he began to take a strange liking to her. She always had something to snap back at him no matter how dark the last thing he said was.

Somehow she seemed to know exactly how to make him tick. Knew how to tease him enough to make him want her to shut up but not enough to physically make her. Though occasionally she went too far and he would break.

Sometimes he felt a weird sensation of guilt swirling inside him, he never knew what to do about that. He didn’t enjoy that.

When she became tired, she was moody and would say things to purposely make him angry. And klaus’s anger management had never been great. He didn’t always mean to react to quick and harshly but he couldn’t help it. Especially when he didn’t understand why she was so angry sometimes.

He knew that she was very much seen as irrelevant when it came to her siblings and the Salvatore’s etc. He couldn’t understand why exactly, she was not less useful than Elena was as far as he could see. Still he didn’t ask or dig on it, it didn’t matter to him if she was apart of the little gang or not. She seemed to hang around him anyway.

He took an amount of joy in their playful banter and teasing nature when around each other. He also liked to push at her buttons the same way she did his. But he wasn’t as good at knowing how far he could go, often she would end up storming off and he’d be left feeling guilty and there’d frustrate which lead to annoyance and anger.

————————————————————————

Klaus hadn’t once guessed that the reason for her mood swings or her pushed to the side nature was due to cancer.

He hadn’t been expecting to see her name on labels of samples of blood.

He was in the hospital for blood obviously, even though he drank mostly straight from the vein, with all his hybrids and his busy schedule sometimes blood bag was easier.

He happened to come across the samples and spotted a familiar name. His curiosity peeked. Of course he originally guessed that it was just normal things like she had given blood or that she had low iron. But something within him told him to look further.

So he began to compel people to get him her files and information. But turns out he didn’t need to, as soon as he said her name the receptionist was yapping on.

“Oh the poor girl, in and out of here since she was just a toddler” she began, sighing and clicking for Y/n’s name on the computer.

“Really?” He questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Uhuh, next appointment is…oh! Tomorrow” she smiled and Klaus nodded pretending to know

“Right for..”

“Collection and a check up” she smiled and turned around to find something, a bag. She placed the paper back infront of him with contained the prescription pills that would control the cancer to some level. He smiled back at her though it didn’t reach his eyes and picked up the packet, reading what they were and what they did.

His heart dropped a little and he hesitantly handed them back to the receptionist. “Thank you, I’d take them to her but if she has a check up tomorrow anyway then I expect it’s easier if she get them herself” he muttered, his voice quiet as he felt a strange sadness forming somewhere inside him.

“Of course” the woman answered “Will you be with her tomorrow?” She asks with the tilt of her head.

“I might be” he replied, unsure and she nodded slightly back

“I’m sure she’d like it if you did, nobodies been with her for a scan for over a year now” she sighed and his heart ached.

He left shortly after and tried to find her. Eventually he found her, much to his surprise, at his house. She was sat on his sofa with a glass of wine and one of his hybrids, chatting about whatever. Without caring he made his way over and grabbed her by the arm.

“Klaus!” She yelped as he began to pull her away from the hybrid.

“He just wants to drain you love, come on upstairs” he murmured, pushing her up the stairs and grabbing the bottle of wine from the table.

“Well he might just be nice” she muttered

“Perhaps but I don’t like the odds” he replied as he pulled her into his room

“Right, because you care if he kills me” she grumbled and his stomach turned uncomfortably. No longer did the joking of her death amuse him like it once did.

When she noticed his silence and the look he had in his eyes, she knew that he knew. It was stupid look of pity that everyone had and that slightly uncomfortable stance because they don’t know how to act around her anymore.

She sighed and glanced to the floor and then him. “Can you not?” She whispered and he frowned confused

“Not what-“

“Oh don’t do that. I know you know. Its fine. I’ve had it forever you don’t have to be weird” she mumbled as she sat on his bed, laying back and staring up at the ceiling tiredly.

“I don’t know what-“

“Cancer Klaus. It’s not a scary word, it’s not Voldemort” she grumbled

“What-?” He questioned confused

“Doesn’t matter it’s not the point” she whispered and he frowned

“You never said anything about it” he muttered as he sat beside her.

“It’s not really the best conversation topic. Plus we’re not that close” she mumbled

“Well…you’re in my bed so I’ve done something right” he joked lightly and she smiled

“I guess so” she whispered.

Klaus laid down beside Y/n quietly. It was a little odd to be so close to her without either of them having ill intentions. He did feel bad though that he made her uncomfortable but he couldn’t help but act a little off. His mind had been replaying every time he had hurt her, he wondered how much it had endangered her life.

It confused him as to why he had this care for her. He couldn’t have cared less about week ago if she had been killed but knowing that she actually, most likely, would die much sooner than expected made him feel something. To know that she was living in pain and fear of when it would catch up to her.

Klaus was a man who liked control, he couldn’t imagine having something like cancer hanging over his life everyday acting as a threat ever time she breathed.

“So you-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it” she mumbled, cutting him off. He fell into silence and sighed softly.

Y/n stared at the ceiling, wishing it would fall on her in this moment. She hated that he knew. Of course she didn’t exactly hide it from him but she also didn’t want him to know. Not because it was something she was embarrassed of, or because she feared he would used it against her. Simply because it meant there was one more person who would look at her like she was incapable and weak. She didn’t want to be stared at like an animal at a zoo by anyone else.

She’d rather he be cruel to her and tell her how pathetic she was just for being a human. She’d rather he scare her and hurt her like he did everyone else in town than look at her like he was now.

She felt her eyes drain of the life that they usually held when around Klaus. With a lump forming in her throat and a heavy weight of disappointment on top of her, she pushed herself up and got off his bed.

“I’m gonna go home” she muttered, ignoring the way he sat up and looked after her with worry.

“Love-“ he called, standing up to follow her as she made her way down his stairs.

“I don’t want to talk, I want to go home” she huffed.

“Sweetheart-“

“Shut up Klaus” she snapped “stop calling me cute little names and looking at me like I’m a three-legged puppy! You don’t like me, I’m annoying and useless to you” she sighed, her voice becoming desperate and she hated how pathetic she sounded.

“You’re dying” he whispered

“Everyone’s dying” she mumbled “I’m just doing it faster” before leaving his house, closing the door behind her.

Klaus left her alone for a little while, and she avoided him also.

He did however go back to the hospital after she had her most recent scan. He compelled the surgeon to show he what was happening, where it was and what that meant. He wanted to know why she wasn’t getting more help, they told him there was very little chance of her surviving even with chemotherapy. Klaus argued they should still try and they informed him of the treatment trial coming up in two months time. Demands were made, he would pay for everything and they would tell her that she qualified to have it free. He didn’t really care what lie they told her just so long as she accepted it.

And she did, Klaus received a phone call telling him so.

Klaus still had no explanation for his sudden change of heart, why he wanted her to get better so badly. He didn’t know why, he just did.

He felt a little sad that she wouldn’t hang around him anymore. Not many people willingly spoke to him, even if it was just some teasing and playful banter. He missed it.

When she had her first dosage of chemo, he found himself in her hospital room. It upset him that nobody had come with her or shown any care at all.

Klaus quietly wondered through the hospital, it was halfway into the night and quiet as he searched for her room. His expression softened when he saw her curled up in a bed, the machine beside her beeping quietly. A singular rose was placed beside her bed as he pulled a chair over to her and leaned down to kiss her cheek softly. It was an odd gesture coming from the hybrid but he tried not to dwell on it as he sat beside her for a while.

Klaus came back during the night as her treatment continued, he would leave her a rose and often a note. He would never know how much it meant to her.

One night he ran his fingers through her hair, only for a handful of strands to come out with his hand. His eyes had enlarged as he quickly put it in the bin and gently lifted to her head to find a clump of hair on her pillow. He didn’t want her to find it in the morning and be upset and so removed it himself.

He didn’t mean to wake her up. She knew it was him without a doubt when she felt her face against someone’s chest. She could hear his soft muttering and the sound of his hand behind her head. It took her a minute to figure out what he was doing and when the realisation hit her she just stared at his chest exhausted. Y/n could remember when all her hair fell out the first time, when she was little and the other kids would poke fun while the parents would tell her how brave she was while staring at her with that helpless, pitiful face. She didn’t want to see it on Klaus’s face as well so she pretended to stay asleep.

After a moment he laid her back down and pulled the blanket back up. “There we go” he murmured softly as he smoothed it over “it’s all going to be just fine” he whispered, stroking her arm gently. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady until he left, she couldn’t stop the tears rolling after he was gone. She hated feeling sorry for herself all of the time but it seemed she could never catch a break.

It wasn’t long before she was back home, still on chemo but home. Jeremy was living in Denver and Elena basically lived at the Salvatores so Y/n had the house to herself. She didn’t go out much, she never really had. She only did recently to annoy Klaus but she didn’t want to be around him anymore either so she found that staying inside was better.

However Klaus had different ideas and so wound up on her doorstep, nocking incessantly until she answered.

“Finally love, you and me worried” he sighed and she narrowed her eyes

“What do you want?” She snapped, she was wrapped up in a blanket and wore a hat on her head. Klaud wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold or because she had given in and shaved her head.

“It’s lovely to see you too” he smiled sarcasticly and she glared. “I wanted to see how you were doing” he answered.

“I’m doing fine. How are you doing?” She replied stiffly

“Ah you know…family troubles” he mumbled and she hummed

“Elijah?” She question

“All of them” Klaus muttered “three brothers, a sister and a mother. I can only be glad I’ve already killed my father…though that didn’t stop mother”

Y/n let out a breathy laugh and glance down “I’ll grab my shoes and we’ll talk and walk.” She told him before closing the door. Klaus smiled to himself as he waited a second before she came out ready. She was completely wrapped up, hat gloves coat. Still he didn’t ask, just remained happy to be with her.

They spoke about the sudden arrival of his family and the ball. He said he hoped she would come but her silence wasn’t convincing.

“You don’t have to” he told her “I know you don’t like people and you barely like me enough” he smiled and she returned it weakly.

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea” she mumbled and he nodded, of course he was a little disappointed but he wasn’t exactly surprised either.

“Then perhaps you’ll have to give me a dance another time?” He offered and she shrugged playfully with a smile

“I might be able to come for just one dance, but I go home straight after?” She compromised and he grinned

“Perfect” he whispered and cupped her face. The smile soon vanished from his lips as he felt how hot her skin was to touch “you’re burning” he mumbled before unzipping her coat and pulling her hat off. Immediately she made a sound of upset and grabbed for the hat. His eyes softened as she stared at him with a mixture of emotions.

She wanted to die. That was it. She wanted the cancer to take her in that moment. Stupid Klaus. She wasn’t sure why having no hair made her feel so bad, she had a nice shaped head but her past experience with peoples reactions caused her to hate it.

“Put it back” she whimpered but he shook his head. His hands gently pulled her coat off and then her gloves.

“You have a fever, you’re boiling, I’m taking you home” he told her as he leant down and lifted her up. She looked at him like he was crazy, she didn’t understand what kind of bond they had or what feelings they held for eachother. She didn’t why he would like her of all people. Was it pity? She hoped not, she’d be so pissed off it was.

“Fevers are normal” she mumbled “you don’t gotta worry”

“Normal or not, it’s best we get rid of it so that it doesn’t hurt you” he answered as he carried her towards her house. She couldn’t help but smile a little when he said ‘we’. In a way it reminded her of how her parents would care her and tell her that it was something they would all get through.

He felt her relax a little in his hold and glanced down to see her looking up at him with a lost look in her eye as he approached her door.

“I can’t come in but I trust that you’ll know how to cool off? I can take you to my house otherwise” he told her as he placed her down and passed her things back to her as she got inside.

“I’ll be fine, thank you” she told him with a small smile before closing the door.

Later that day she received a package containing a dress, shoes that matched and a silver necklace with her birthstone hanging from it. She smiled a little and put it somewhere safe ready for the next evening.

Then she continued to settle her fever and take a nap. She woke back up, watched a few films, messaged Klaus to let him know she was okay now, and finally took her meds when she ate her dinner before going to sleep.

In the morning she continued her everyday routine and lounging around until it was only a couple hours before the ball that the mikaelsons were throwing. She had argued with herself all day whether she should go. She knew people would talk, seeing the cancer kid with Klaus Mikaelson. Not that it was date. No no. That would be weird…

Eventually she decided she would go, dance the first dance and then go home. She just hoped that the exhaustion wouldn’t hit her too hard while she was out or that she wouldn’t fall sick until she got back home.

Y/n never got to go to events like Elena and Jeremy did when she was little, but her mother would dress her up when she was in the house sometimes to make her feel happy and pretty for a day. That was the only way she knew what she was doing when it came to her face. She had stolen some from Elena’s room as she only had the basics for herself.

She put on everything he had given her and looked in the mirror. Her hands touched her head with a small sigh before she called a cab that took her to the mansion.

She stood outside it for a few minutes, unsure whether she should just turn around and walk in. Klaud didn’t give her that option when he came wondering outside, his eyes looking around for her hopefully. She smiled a little to herself and began to walk towards him, his gaze met hers halfway and he quickly flashed beside her.

“You came” he whispered, pulling her in for an unexpected hug. He pulled back and cleared his throat “sorry” he muttered awkwardly before grabbing her hand and leading her inside. “You look gorgeous by the way, you always look gorgeous but…not that- “

“Thank you” she cut him off with a smile and squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Am I late? I didn’t mean to stand there for so long” she asked quietly, glancing around and seeing the entire town moving around his home.

“It’s okay, the first dance only just started” he told her, leading her further inside.

“I never really learned to dance” she whispered nervously

“That’s alright” he murmured “I’ve got you” he told her and she believed him.

She let him guide her throughout the dance, she kept her eyes on him and tried to ignore any stares. Klaus kept her close and offered a death glare to anyone who even glanced their way. Time flew, they danced for nearly six full songs before he felt her body go momentarily limp to his. Thankfully his arm was around her waist already so he kept her up. She regained her balance in seconds but it was clear that something was wrong.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, alright love?” He murmured to her but she shook her head

“I can’t do the stairs…I’m dizzy” she whispered and he nodded

“I know, I didn’t expect you to walk up them” he told her before gently tugging her away from the people. They walked straight past Elijah and Elena talking, both turned to face them with looked of confusion and surprise as Klaus told her to let him help her. He kept upright so that nobody would know she was being carried as he supported her weight up each step. Once at the top they walked past Finn and Esther, his mother eyed the girl with that same pity as most and shook her head at Finn in a way that told him to leave them alone as Klaus lead her into his room carefully.

He laid her down on his bed, propping her up with pillows and cupping her face gently. Her eyes focused on his as his cool hands soothed her skin.

“You feel okay love?” He asked softly

“Yeah I’m ok” she nodded as her head began to settle. She felt a little nauseous but less faint. “I should go home” she mumbled, pushing herself up but he shook his head and laid her back down.

“Stay here tonight love, I’ll look after you” he told her

“Can’t, gotta have my meds” she muttered and he nodded

“I’ll go get them okay? You stay in here, find a shirt of mine to wear to bed and I’ll go get your pills.” He decided, standing up

“Klaus…you’re not invited in” she whispered and he sighed

“Then I’ll go to the hospital and get some, I know what you need”

“It’s easier if I go home” she argued

“I want you here” he told her seriously and with a sigh she nodded.He nodded in return and stroked her face, and her smooth head gently. “You can wear whatever you like okay?” He smiled and she nodded, watching as he left.

Klaus quickly made his way out the room, rushing down the stairs and out the house. Stopping for only a second to tell Elijah to keep people downstairs.

Once he was back from the hospital with her medication she was wrapped in his duvet, dressed in his shirt and her panties with no makeup left on her face while scrolling through Netflix on his TV. He smiled at the sight and close the door behind him with a click. Her head lifted to see him and he made his way over with the bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Thank you Klaus” she whispered gratefully as she swallowed a pill before handing back the glass which he placed on a coaster on his bedside table.

He grabbed a shirt and some plaid pants before disappearing into his conjoined bathroom. He remerged from the room in a couple minutes ready for sleep. He had a sofa in his room, a mini fridge and everything. Y/n wandered if he ever actually had to leave his room.

Klaus opened a cabinet filled with blankets and pillows and pulled a couple out and setting up a bed on the couch making Y/n frown a little, guilt and confusion swirling.

“You done have to sleep there” she told him “You could sleep here if you want…or I could go on the sofa, I don’t mind” she offered, slipping out of the bed and making her way to the couch but he spun her straight back around and lead her back to bed.

“Under no circumstances will you not be in that bed” he told her, a level of authority in his tone as he put her to bed. “I don’t want to disturb your sleep by stealing half the bed” he teased.

“No it’s okay, I like sharing” she smiled and he raised a brow as he sat down infront of her.

“Oh? Do you share beds often?” He teased with narrowed eyes. Klaus didn’t like the thought of Y/n sleeping with anyone but himself. Even if it was just a nap.

“No” she whispered, her cheeks bushing pink “sometimes when I was sick my mom would sleep with me” she shrugged and he smiled.

“I doubt I’ll be anything like your mother sweetheart” he chuckled and she rolled her eyes

“Oh just come lay down, you know that’s not-“

“I know, I know” he murmured playfully as he laid beside her. She huffed out a breath dramatically and he grinned, pulling her against him. It was strange to be so close to him, teasing and laughing again. She liked it though, and so did he.

Klaus shifted himself under the duvet and pulled it around them. He hadn’t had a girl in his bed for a while, especially the past few months. All he could think of was her so why would he want some other woman? It had been even longer since he had a girl in his bed with no expectations of sex. That hadn’t happened in decades.

Something about it was nice, innocent.

Y/n on the other hand had never shared a bed with a man, never been touched or ever really thought that a guy would want to touch her. She didn’t think Klaus would either, especially not when she looked like she did. She’d lost a lot of weight from the chemo, her stamina was low, she bruised easy and she had no hair which threw most boys off. Boys her own age at least. Not Klaus.

He couldn’t have cared less about something so simplistic. Sure, she had pretty hair at one point but it didn’t define her. He liked her as she was, of course he wanted her to be cancer free and happy but he’d still love her while she wasn’t.

Love. Was it too strong of a word? He wasn’t sure.

Especially not when he was looking at her like he was now. Seeing her so openly vulnerable and curled up against him, sleepy eyes set on the tv and her body hidden under the quilt though he could feel her legs touching his.

It wasn’t long before they were snuggled up and half asleep. She was barely conscious when Elijah’s head popped into the room to check on Niklaus. The brothers had a brief conversation on how the night went, Elijah expressed his caution around their mother Klaus said he couldn’t be bothered with it anymore. Elijah left when Y/n began to stir and Klaus’s focus became her.

He slept with her throughout the night, he woke to find her missing and his heart sank. Thankfully she wondered back in from the bathroom a few minutes later and crawled back to bed with a yawn. Klaus’s lips upturned and he pulled her close again. She looked up at him with a small smile which grew when their eyes met.

“Hi” she whispered and he smiled

“Hi” he uttered back, pulling her as close to his side as he could before she was under him. She glanced to the time, seeing it was still really early. She groaned softly and closed her eyes. Klaus hummed softly and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek bones softly. “You look so pretty” he whispered.

Her cheeks tinted red and she rolled onto her side to hide her face from him but it only resulted in him spooning her. He kissed the back of her head making her go redder and her fingers to hold onto the sheets beneath. Klaus pressed close to her, too close. The second she felt something hard against her backside her body went tense and she panicked. Klaus felt her fear and quickly pulled himself away from her but she was already getting out of bed.

“I have to go, I’m sorry” she whispered, heading for the door but he sped infront of her.

“Love-“

“I gotta go”

“Let me drive you, and at least give you something to wear” he mumbled, disappointed with himself for scaring her. She nodded when she realised she was still in just her underwear and his shirt. He sped into Rebekah’s room which was unsurprisingly empty as she had ended up staying the night in Damon Salvatores bed.

He came back and she pulled the jeans on before he drove her home. It was quiet and he hated that he’d ruined the night. He should have thought about it and known she wouldn’t want that, he hadn’t intended to do anything other than sleep but she was so close and he couldn’t help but want. His desire always won though in this case it made him lose big time.

He apologised quietly when she got out the car and she told him it was okay and that she overreacted. Neither of them were particularly pleased with how they responded.

Y/n thought about how the moment could have played out a hundred times over and kicked herself for not just letting him have her. But she knew she would have regretted it.

They both decided to pretend the incident didn’t happen when they saw eachother next. Klaus had turned up on her doorstep that same night, it was clear he had been crying but she mention it. She wrapped her arms around him as he told her that his family had left again and that his mother wanted him dead. She ended up back in his bed, using his chest as a pillow once more.

In fact she ended up in his house, his bed a lot. Especially as her chemo treatment continued, when she wasn’t in hospital he managed to coax her to his house.

“I enjoy our sleepovers” he teased making her bite back a smile and glare playfully.

“Technically you don’t even need sleep” she reminded and he rolled his eyes.

“Well I like sleeping with you” he murmured with a wink and she laughed.

For a little while, things seemed to be getting better. She felt happier and somewhat healthier. She was more confident in herself when Klaus was around, he helped her see her beauty and her worth. For a moment she truly believed that everything would be better.

But things could never just be so simple.

At the end of her chemotherapeutic treatment, she went into the hospital as expected. Klaus didn’t go with her this time, Y/n had told him that the appointment wasn’t for another week because she wanted good news as a surprise.

How she wished it was good news.

She knew as soon as she saw the nurses face. When she told her that the treatment hadn’t worked the way they hoped, she just nodded and asked how much she owed. They shook their heads and reminded her that it was ‘free’ and she went home.

All this had done was just confirm that she wouldn’t live even half of what everyone else would. A quarter if she was lucky.

Vampire blood couldn’t save her, magic couldn’t save her. She just had to accept it and live with it for however long.

That wasn’t even the hard part for her, the hard part was telling Klaus.

After her appointment she went back to his home. He wasn’t in but she went up to his room anyway, besides it was basically her soon now too.

She stared at the bed, god she loved that bed. It was like a cloud and when she had Klaus holding her tight aswell? She only hoped heaven would be similar.

She tapped her fingers against her arm as she thought. With a sigh she went and had a shower, got back out and stared at herself in the full length mirror that Klaus had in his bathroom for whatever reason. She smiled and laughed through her nose at the thought.

Y/n had a lot of clothes at Klaus’s now, she pulled on one of the only actual sets of underwear she owned and sat down on the bed. She adjusted the straps on her bra for a few minutes and fiddled with her panties so they sat how she wanted them to.

Klaus was home shortly after and made his way upstairs to his room. His breath got caught in his throat the second he saw her.

They teased eachother and made little jokes about sex, they both entertained the idea in their heads but he never actually thought she would be the one to make the move.

He didn’t know what the final push was that made her give in but he wouldn’t push it away.

Within seconds he was on that bed, gently pushing her down onto her back and hovering over her. His lips met hers in a deep passion that heated them both. Her legs were nudged apart so he could lay between them. She kissed him back with as much love as should had in an effort to make him understand how much he meant to her.

His hands stroked up her sides gently, holding her waist perfectly. His mouth pressed to hers repeatedly before moving down to her neck. Y/n’s eyes kept shut as she felt the soft tingle of every touch, her hands slid down and unbuckled his belt. She pulled it through the loops with a tug and pushed it aside.

Klaus pulled back and looked down at her hands, he gently took them in his hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing the backs of them. “We don’t need to rush, we have all the time in the world” he whispered, the words made her eyes prick with tears but she held them back.

“I know…I just need you now” she told him quietly making him smile. He leant back down and kissed from her collarbone down. Y/n watched as goosebumps lined her skin and his hands slid her panties down her legs slowly so that she had the option to stop him.

He pressed soft kisses to her knees and then up along her thighs. His hands caressed her legs gently as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to her pussy. Y/n’s body jerked away from his mouth at the unfamiliar feeling and he smiled.

“It’s alright love, I’ve got you” he told her before running his tongue through her folds and up to her clit. Her legs went over his shoulder as her hands went to his hair, feeling the soft curls as her body filled with heat. Klaus rest his head against one of her thighs so he could look up at her as his tongue flicked gently at her little button. Her brows pulled together and a soft sound escaped her as she felt his teasing.

“Klaus” she whispered softly, a slightly tremble in her voice as his fingers made their way up and gently traced her pussy lips. He hummed quietly in response, letting the gentle vibrations tickle her nerves pleasantly. The words ‘I love you’ were on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t utter them, not yet. She worried that he would want to know why she chose now to tell him, why now to give herself to him. And if he did find out why, everything would be ruined.

A shaky breath left her and she put her focus back on him. She pulled at his soft hair gently, telling him to give her more and he eagerly obliged. He slipped a finger into her halfway, moving it slowly to help ease the foreign feeling upon her. His tongue still licked at her clit, though now with a little more pressure.

Her back arched a little and a breathy moan left her lips making him push his finger in so it was knuckle deep before pulling it out with a slight curve. He watched her tighten around nothing as her hips rolled a little to try get his touch back inside her.

“Do you like how it feels love?” He murmured with a kiss to her clit. She nodded and pulled at his curls gently.

“I do” she whispered “I love it” she confirmed and he smirked a little.

“I love it too” he smiled and sucked her clit into his mouth making her squirm and moan his name. She inhaled deeply and leant her head back against the pillows and two fingers began to stretch her open as they pushed in as far as they could’ve.

She took soft but long breaths as her body filled with heat and her hips ground her pussy against his fingers as they curled into her and found her spot. Her back curved off the bed and he smiled to himself, happy to bring her pleasure.

His fingers met the thrusts of her hips and his tongue lay flat against her clit, letting her rub against it as quick as she needed. A soft cry left her and her pussy squeezed his fingers tightly, her thighs squished his head making him chuckle and suck on her softly. He pulled away before she could come undone and pulled her down the bed so her legs were at his hips instead.

He leant down to kiss her lips making her wrinkle her nose and dodge him.

“Sweetheart, you can’t deny my kisses now” he murmured as she wriggled.

“You can’t kiss me after that” she whined and he laughed

“You taste lovely” he teased

“I’m good not knowing” she laughed and he narrowed his eyes before attacking her with kisses all over her face making her squeal and push at his chest playfully. Eventually he caught her lips and had her succumb to the kiss. A soft moan escaped her and he smiled.

“Can I keep going love?” He asked softly as he used one of his hands to undo his jeans. She nodded kissed his jaw softly, her eyes fluttering as she felt his bare legs against hers. Her body tensed for a moment as his cock rest against her thigh and her hand gripped his shoulder. “I’ll be slow” he whispered, “don’t worry Y/n”.

She nodded again and tightened her legs round his waist. Klaus cupped the back of her head with one hand while the other guided his tip into her weeping hole. She whimpered at the stretch and he kissed her cheek, holding her close.

She nuzzled close and clung to him as he pushed another two inches into her and gently rocked in and out of her, getting another inch into her with each thrust until eventually she took all of him. He stayed they for a while, stroking away the little tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissing her lips softly.

“It’s okay love” he told her gently, “you know I’ve got you”

She nodded weakly and kept her face in the crook of his neck as he began to move again. Soft little moans slipped past her lips and vibrated against his throat as he thrust into her slowly. His hips moved perfectly to stroke all the right places inside her.

Y/n’s hands held onto him tightly, so did her pussy.

Klaus kissed her skin gently as he rocked into her, his hand slid down between their bodies and he began to stroke her swollen clit. She let out a little cry and he grunted as his cock was squeezed.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart” he murmured as he began to speed up. His eyes closed as he focused on pleasing her body, he could hear the repeated sound of his skin meeting hers along with the whimpers that tumbled past her mouth. He could feel her body growing tired and knew she wouldn’t be able to go on much more. He stroked her skin soothingly while his other hand rubbed quick circles on her pretty clit.

Her body tensed and she cried his name as her body let go around his. Klaus hugged her close as he thrust into her slowly, his hips came to a stop and she panted softly for air. He kissed her lips softly and pulled out. His hand stroked his cock quickly and he squeezed it tightly until he came onto her stomach. She moaned softly and tugged at him for a kiss.

His lips pressed to hers lovingly and rolled onto his back, pulling her ontop of him. Y/n smiled down at him and caressed his chest gently.

“I love you” she whispered and his heart warmed even more

“I love you too” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting up. He stood up with her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and brought them both under the warm water.

“I can stand” she mumbled and he hummed but didn’t put her down. Instead he kept ahold of her as he helped clean them both off. She leant against him, her head in his neck as he wrapped a towel big enough to be a double duvet. He kissed her head and dried them off before setting her back on his bed. He pulled one of his shirts over her head and pulled some panties up her legs. “Thank you” Y/n whispered with a smile.

“Of course” he smiled back and laid beside her in his sleep pants. Klaus held her to him, his lips pulled up in contentment and he closed his eyes. He held her close they slept and woke up early to prepare breakfast.

Klaus wanted this relationship to be right. He wanted to treat her like he knew he could and show that he meant his love for her. So he went downstairs and cooked up some pancakes and bacon for his girl. He plated it up and poured them both drinks, he set the table for them and made his way back upstairs.

His movements faltered for a moment as he heard the sound of gagging. Hurriedly he made his way to the bathroom to see her heaving over the toilet. Quickly he kneeled beside her and caressed her back, her hand reached for tissue as she wiped her mouth, dumping the tissue ontop of her sock and flushing the toilet. He helped her up and wrapped his arms around her waits from behind as she brushed her teeth. She apologised quietly but he shook his head and kissed her cheek.

“I got you something love” he told Y/n softly before leading her downstairs. She looked up at him with a soft look in her eyes as he pulled out her seat at the table. She sat down and smiled as he pushed her in and sat opposite her with his food also.

“You know you didn’t have to?” She whispered softly and Klaus hummed

“Of course I did” he answered “I’ll always look after you”

Y/n’s smile wavered a little but she pulled back together. They ate their food and she helped him clean up. After they got dressed and he started to talk. When Klaus starts talking he doesn’t tend to stop until he absolutely has to.

Usually Y/n didn’t mind his rants and rambles but this time it was about them. He started going on about all the things they could do together and how once her cancer was gone then they would go wherever she wanted and he went on and on. After a while however, Y/n just couldn’t help it.

Her eyes had been watering for a full twenty minutes and as soon as the first tear fell, well it was like a waterfall. Klaus’s face dropped within seconds and his heart sunk. Panic flooded him and he quickly pulled her into his lap. He tried to calm her but had no idea what was wrong to begin with. Well not at first.

She tried to leave, push him away like she knew she should have at the start. He wouldn’t let her though. Not now. He had to block the exit, ended up yelling for her to tell him what was wrong. Instead of an actual answer she told him that she didn’t want to be with him, she began to say hurtful things. She needed him to not love her. Not if there was no hope of living. She didn’t want to leave him missing her, she would rather he hated her and was glad she was gone. Or at least that’s how she thought in that moment.

Klaus was never good when it came to emotions. He didn’t understand the sudden change of heart, the hatred that suddenly blossomed. But he knew something was wrong, she didn’t look angry or disgusted by him like she tried to claim she was. She just looked scared and borderline devastated.

He stared at her for a while and she didn’t dare say anything else. Klaud didn’t want to believe it to begin with. But it was the only thing that made sense. With slight hesitation he stepped to her, he overpowered her shoving hands and forced her into a hug. It only took a moment for her to collapse into it, cries shaking through her without a break.

“I’m gonna take you everywhere” he mumbled softly, kissing her smooth head continuously. She made a sound of distress and she shushed her gently “anywhere you want sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how long we have, I will not have you live it alone and in self-pity” he argued and she shook.

He picked her up and sat down with her on the sofa, he grabbed a world map and brought it over to her. “Come on love, you choose somewhere and I’ll get us in a plane, have you ever flown?” He asked, swallowing any tears or sadness down. Right now he just needed to keep her with him. He would go anywhere, do anything to ensure that she was happy for however long she had to live.

“We can’t just-“

“Yes we can. We will. We don’t even have to pack, I’ll buy you everything new from wherever we go. Just pick a continent, we’ll do a country from each and see how you’re feeling before we go again” he whispered, desperation seeping into his tone.

“You’re making it worse for yourself” she uttered, wiping her tears.

“It’ll be a hundred times worse if I’m not with you” he argued, a tear dropping from his lashes.

They both went quiet and let the situation fully dawn on them for a little while. Finally Y/n glanced to the map. “I’ve always heard Europe was pretty” she mused quietly and Klaus wiped his eyes, pulling a smile onto his face as he pulled her close and kissed the side of her head.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll call for a private jet and we shall leave in a few hours. Would you like to tell your family that you’ll be away?” He asked but she shook her head no. “Then please, just trust me my love?”

“I do…and I’m sorry for-“

“Don’t be. Just know that I love you and that I will always have you no matter what” he told her, a kiss to her lips to seal the promise.

“I love you” she uttered, they repeated it back to one another as she made her way into his lap and rest her face in his neck.

Everything else was forgotten.

The doppelgänger, hybrids, Salvatore’s, Mikaelsons. They would all have to wait.

[weskie]

A Moment of Peace (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

this man needs a nap soooo bad, fluff | Fic Directory

You find him so very beautiful like this.

Wesker does not indulge in rest nearly as much as he should.  He takes only what he needs to function, and he does it quite well for the most part.  To the untrained eye, exhaustion never touches him.  He is a force to be reckoned with in every aspect of life, but even the man made god has moments where fatigue settles in despite his best efforts.  There was a world to perfect, a dream to make reality, and such goals would not come to fruition with his head buried in a pillow.

But right now, he needs this.  

You thread your fingers through locks of his hair, nails scratching softly against his scalp in long strokes.  You’re not sure exactly how you managed to convince him, but he’s been asleep on your lap for nearly an hour now.

Initially, he’d joined you on the couch in your shared abode.  You with your book, and him with his mountain of folders.  Incident and laboratory reports, he’d explained.  Trial and error with various strains, incident follow ups after staff exposure, costs, damages… more thorns in his side delaying his dream with every fool's mistake.  You could tell from the moment he sat down that he was running on empty, and no amount of coffee you’d brought him seemed to rouse him from his drowsy state.  The intermittent act of pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes only grew in frequency as time ticked on, and you pretty much left him with no choice.

All it took was your fingers curling at the nape of his neck to soothe him.  Just a gentle touch, an invitation– wordless, but no less sincere– to shoulder the weight of his burdens and give him relief.

To your surprise, he didn’t even fight you on it the way he usually would. He wasn’t too busy, nor was there a thumb and forefinger placed at your chin while he gives you the same old excuse of another time.  He merely tossed the packet of paper onto the arm of the couch and shifted to lay on his side, cushioning his head against your lap.

He looked so strange like that too.  Like there was an air of repression to the act, like it was forbidden to him in some way or another to have the comfortable luxury of a lover who cared to hold him.

“I’ll make sure the world doesn’t burn without you,”  you’d told him, having just slipped the sunglasses off of his face.  “Just relax.”

It took a while, but eventually you felt the decompression– the way his body slackened and he became comfortable enough to rest on his back.  Not long after that, he was out.

And here you are.  

You take the chance to observe every feature, committing each detail to memory so that you could perhaps paint him picture-perfect with your eyes closed.   You’d like to run your fingertip over the curve of his cheekbones, or perhaps even the slope of his nose, but you fear waking and depriving him of something he needs so dearly.  He’s a light sleeper, and you’re amazed you haven’t roused him with your own yawns by now.  

Your left hand lays on his chest, just over his heart.  Each rise and fall has become its own rhythmic comfort, lulling you closer and closer to dozing off along with him.

You’d love to, but later… 

You wouldn’t miss the beauty of his serenity for the world.

[wreckingtickles]

"FUUAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHCK!!!"

"That hurt when you jumped and then when you landed on my arms!"

Bakugo was writhing on his own bed, the bedsheet all crumpled from his continuous squirming; but no matter how much he tried, he wasn't able to pull his feet out of Kirishima's iron grasp.

"Common decency would have required you to take off your shoes, like Midoriya and Todoroki!" complained the redhead as he kept furiously scrubbing Bakugo's bare soles with the grooming glvoes he'd borrowed from Koda, the myriad of plastic nubs unlike anything Bakugo had ever felt.

He shot up to a sitting position, as if trying to headbutt Kirishima, who had his back to him, but he was too far, and with his wrists tied together behind his back with his own tie, there was precious little he could do except laugh his head off; or maybe it was an attempt to get closer to appeal to him, as if reducing the distance would have inspired more pity in his tormentor.

"KIHIHIHIRHIHSHIHHIHAHAHAHAHHAMMAMAMAMAMAAA!!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHSEE!!! GHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHA!!!"

Protests and threats had been a thing for the first 10 minutes, when Kirishima was using his fingers to scribble all over Bakugo's soles, or to pull his big toes back to get at the tender flesh under and between his toes.

The two forks had resulted in bargaining, in Bakugo promising that no retaliation would be unleashed if Kirishima stopped at that moment.

"Oh, now you call me by my name? If this is what it takes, maybe it should be a recurring thing."

And the grooming gloves, those had finally led to pleading.

Kirishima focused his frenzied scrubbing on the upper half of Bakugo's feet, hitting the sensitive balls and the base of his toes.

A jolt ran through the crumpled body of the hysterical, defeated blond, who fell back on the covers, howling at the ceiling.

"GHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! SHHIHIAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!!!"

Kirishima was completely relentless. "Although now I see why you didn't take off your shoes. You might have fallen over laughing if we just brushed your feet, and cost us the battle."

He wasn't sure if the guffawing blond could hear him, but he'd made his demands clear from the start: he wanted an apology. And he wouldn't stop until he got one.

So he briefly loosened his hold so he could grab both of Bakugo's feet, his palms on the tops, and rubbed the nubs on his thumbs right into the balls.

Bakugo screeched as a new torrent of ticklish tears poured out of his eyes, staining the covers just like the other useless tears before them.

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!"

"Right in your weak spot, uh?" remarked Kirishima, finding it increasingly difficult to keep up his angry tone. He rubbed all over the trapped balls with his thumbs, not even giving Bakugo a chance to speak.

The blond had to claw through the overwhelming ticklish response to finally scream a broken "HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHH!!! IHAHAHAHAHM SOOOOOHOHOHAHAHAHHAHAHAHARRYYYYY!!!!! SOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Kirishima went on rubbing Bakugo's soles for a few more seconds before finally pulling his hands back.

"What did you say?" he asked as Bakugo breathed in for dear life.

As desperate as he was for air, the blond knew that any delay would have caused the tickling to resume. "I'm s-sohorry..."

"Sorry for what?" asked Kirishima as he let his thumb graze the hyper-ticklish ball of Bakugo's left foot again, instantly causing the blond to spasm with terror.

"F! Fohor nohot... takihing my... shoes off," he finally said, thoroughly beaten.

"Geez, was that so hard?" asked Kirishima as he began to remove the grooming gloves, without ever letting go of Bakugo's ankles.

The blond closed his eyes as he panted, blinking away the last tears, too overstimulated to feel the slightest hint of shame at having been forced to aplogize, and by tickling of all things.

He forced himself to open his eyes as he felt Kirishima shift at the foot of the bed.

His thumping heartbeat picked up again when he noticed the redhead was holding two hairbrushes.

"W-WAIT!!" he begged, his voice filled with desperation. "I-I apologized!!"

"You did." Kirishima nodded. "And now for your punishment."

He scrubbed the two hairbrushes into Bakugo's soles, filling the overwhelmed blond with a new surge of unbearable ticklishness.

"..........................................AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHHACK!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOHOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!"

The entire bed shook with the sheer energy of Bakugo's thrashing; but Kirishima wasn't going anywhere.

"Thirty minutes should make the lesson stick," added the redhead before focusing once again on the balls of Bakugo's feet.

---

Still on a break, but had an idea for a short story I just needed to get out.