#you were forced to save the world from a threat it knew was coming but somehow you still had to essentially bribe and beg the huge

[jayden-writes]

safe

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~3k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, whump

cw: kidnapping, strangulation, threats, violence, murder

summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic

A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.

Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.

When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?

Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.

“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”

“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.

“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”

Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.

Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”

Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”

You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.

“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”

Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.

“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”

As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.

With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.

Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.

Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.

“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.

Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”

With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.

“You're okay,” he simply echoed.

Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.

“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.

“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.

“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-

“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.

“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.

“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”

“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.

“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.

After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.

“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.

[perkeleen-lavellan]

The Warden Commander just gives no shit and the crew catches on and begins to mirror this behaviour.

Awakening is such a funny game in retrospect. baseline expectations for DA status quo is DA2 team being all concerned about possession and blood magic, and half of the Inquisition crew being suuuper concerned about Cole, and many people being outwardly antagonistic to him based on his spirit-in-a-boy's-body nature.

meanwhile back in Awakening the Warden goes: oh worm? you want to come fight darkspawn with me? sure, the more the merrier! and then the whole gang is just workshopping how to deal with Justice's dead body decaying, Oghren wants to know if Justice fucks, and Nathaniel is all: what if you [spins wheel] possessed someone who was alive? if both parties consent i think that's basically like fine.

👍👍👌👌 top-tier comedy

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence Part 2

When Bruce finally managed to get the time to look at the file Danny had added to the bat computer, it was almost patrol, and the rest of the family was filling in to get ready to head out. Even Jason had shown up, but that was probably just because he was bribed by Alfred with leftovers from dinner. Bruce couldn’t really blame him, Alfred’s food was the best in the world, but he does wish that he would show up more often just to hang out with him and his siblings.

Bruce sat in the bat-chair, graciously labeled with a sticker from a recent prank by Stephanie. She had gone around and labeled everything in the bat cave, but added the bat suffix in front. It had taken forever to find most of them, but he allowed some of them to remain. 

Finding the new folder was easy, it was labeled FROM DANNY, and left in the middle of the screen. Clicking it open and sipping his fresh coffee he glanced at the first document. The folder was full of notes, pictures and videos, but all of the previews were white, green, or black. 

Bruce started to read through the document, and chocked on his coffee at the contents.

Hello Batman and family, I hope this reached you before they do. I didn’t bring this up just incase you knew and were supportive, but how you act and how contaminated you are I will assume you do not. There is a Government Law that declares any being that has come into contact with enough or creates ectoplasm as non-sentient and non-sapient, but at the same time malicious {Abbreviated the AEA}. We are to be turned over to the GIW to be experiment upon and exterminated. This is literal torture, and I have gathered as much evidence as me and my friends could without being caught. I beg you, please be careful if you decide to take these people down. From what is on here, I think that Lazarus Water is a form of corrupted ectoplasm. Also, anyone who has died and come back to life no matter what are counted, and anyone with godly blood within them. Please Please, save us. My parents are the leading “scientists” which is bullshit, and they’ve already tied me down once. I can’t go through that again. Please, Amity and the Infinite Realms need help. If you don’t help us, I’m scared we may be forced to go to war, and I don’t think you can win against the godly dead. 

Please, I’m begging you - Danny Fenton {King Phantom}

“You good B?” Nightwing asked strolling over casually. He didn’t know how to answer, how was he supposed to say ‘Oh yeah, just found out that the government calls us non-sentient\sapient, and we are to be experimented and slaughtered. Also if we don’t stop them our worlds probably going to fall and we’re all going to die a painful death.’ That’s a fun conversation to have.

Clearing his throat he finally spoke up. 

“Red Robin, Oracle, I need you to help me sort through these, Nightwing, get the Justice league ready for an emergency meeting, call the Dark too. Look at this.”

“Are we sure it’s real though? It could be a prank,” muttered Oracle, though even she doubted her words.

“Even so, the threat is there and we should certainly look through this, and that means the League needs to know.”

Batman carefully mourned the loss of a peaceful evening, and his coffee, he was going to need to leave that at the cave, he had an image to keep. 

Nightwing wasn’t smiling anymore, Robin looked concerned, and Red Hood was openly gawking at the screen.

“I’ve called the emergency meeting, you three sort these files out, I’m calling up the JLD now. Guess we should warn Constantine to bring a couple extra bottles huh.” His joke fell flat, but Bruce wonders if he should bring some alcohol and coffee with him, image be dammed. 

“Wait a second, godly blood included? They fuckn’ shittin’ on Diana!”

“That’s what your concerned about Todd? Not that the we both fall under these parameters, along with Father and the rest of the collection? I will go fetch Thomas from his chambers, he will need to suit up to follow us to the watchtower.”

“Good idea Damian, tell him to hurry up. Everyone else, in the Zeta Tube, Alfred, you can stay here if you want.” Bruce gathered his laptop and moved the file over, copying and sending it to Tims laptop as well. 

“Thank you master Bruce, I will wait for the younger masters then I will be up shortly. Run along now.” Alfred excused with a bow, but even his face was shadowed in worry and thinly veiled anger. 

“See you in a bit Alf.” Dick replied, inputting directions to the watchtower in and doing a quick headcount. 

With a flash, the dark gloomy cave was replaced by fluorescent lights and the steel infrastructure of the watchtower. Hopping off the platform another flash of light appeared, and Aquaman stepped out. The group filled out as Aquaman politely greeted them. Making their way to the nearest meeting room, Batman and Red Robin began to set things up as the gathered heroes began to sit. 

“Hey Nightwing, what’s with the meeting, you never call for an emergency meeting, Blüd rarely has big threats.” Flash mentioned as he zoomed into the meeting room, last as always, and began to dig into his waffle plate. Where he got waffles from, Bruce didn’t want to know, they weren’t serving waffles in the cafeteria today, or yesterday from leftovers. 

“This isn’t just Blüdhaven, it’s all of the united States.” He worried, checking over one final time to make sure everyone was here. A collection of the main heroes from the Justice League, they’d need to figure out who counted as ecto-contaminated before throwing people around, and Constantine, Zatanna, and Deadman were gathered to represent Justice League Dark. At least he assumed Deadman was there, as a chair was pulled out and labeled for him. At least they wouldn’t have to race to find him, they could tell him just to stay up in the watchtower if things got bad. Finally, Robin and Signal rushed in, signal tiredly rubbing his eyes and his helmet in Agent A’s hands. 

“As some of you know, a person got stuck in the batcomputer a couple months ago. And was only recently released.” Murmurs and imputed questions rose around, and Nightwing promptly ignored them. 

“They left behind a file for us, and we were looking through it and discovered many hidden crimes from the US government. They have taken and labeled a whole species and group of people as non-sentient and non-sapient, and have been experimenting and committing genocide on them.” Again, a chorus of questions and yelling went up, and Nightwing had to take a moment to pause. A glance at Martian Manhunter reviled a stone cold face, quietly waiting for more information. 

“Oh god… what is this?” 

[downbadf0rficppl]

someone's there

Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

Repost

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[fireboltposts]

When Chris comes across fanfiction you've written about him

A/N : Hope you like this silly scenario haha. Picture credit goes to the owner. On that note, I wonder if Chan has a secret Tumblr account haha, I wouldn't put it past him.

• It was Chris' day off and he was lying on his bed under the blanket with his phone in his hand, scrolling through his private Instagram that only his close ones knew of and the one he used to stalk his fans.

• As usual, it was his favourite hobby to stalk Stays online, always curious to see what Stays were up to. He was scrolling through edit after edit, some where he was being the adorable Channie and "cute as a button", according to Stays' language, not his, and others where he was in full on wildin' in Christopher mode on stage.

• He chuckled at some of the comments made by Stays and felt shy at the same time. What he gathered was one group of people found him super adorable (he wondered how on earth could people find him adorable when there were the other members in the group) while other Stays were thirsty, each comment made him flustered and left him red in the face, it was like he was in his own episode of Thirst Tweets.

• He scrolled down next to find your fanfiction titled "Dangerous Alliances" pt 15. It was a fanfiction about him. He was intrigued to read it especially seeing the dark edit of himself in a black suit.

• He was fascinated by the way you portrayed him as a powerful and the most feared mafia boss, mysterious and alluring, surrounded by danger. He was used to being seen as the leader and "protective older brother" type, but the idea of him being a dangerous mafia boss was a wild twist to his personality.

• As he starts reading from part 1, he raises his eyebrows at your gritty and intense portrayal of him, surrounded by his seven trusted men, as in the rest of Stray Kids, each one had a different and important role. In the story he had a painful past and he also discovered that his parents were a part of the mafia in the past. He was back and had risen up the ranks.

• As he read on, though, he’d become more intrigued, maybe even amused, secretly flattered by your imaginative take on his character. He’d never imagined anyone thinking of him that way, the dark brooding mafia boss with a dangerous aura only soft for his seven friends and the reader who was not from the mafia but was just as daring and didn't even hesitate to take a bullet for him by his enemy and almost had seen death in the face (his world had almost collapsed that day but he was so so so relieved you were alive).

• Wow, he thought, the female lead here is strong and intense and fiercely loyal to his mafia character and takes no shit as he read the part where your character, the reader, had come back and threatened the enemy that whoever hurt Chris would have her to deal with her, and you had eliminated the threat that made the other mafia families treat you with respect and fear and see you as a force to be reckoned with and not just Chris' lover or just some woman.

• Chan would seriously be impressed by how you turned him into a powerful, mysterious figure, even if it’s such a different side of him. Part of him would want to laugh it off, but he’d find himself getting invested in the storyline, wondering what’s going to happen next. He was shocked when it was revealed that the reader actually was a lost mafia princess on a mission, and that she was seducing him just to eliminate him and all that bullet taking for him was all an act.

• Chris was reading with two eyebrows raised now, completely lost in the storyline. He was eager to know what happened next and kind of wanted a happy ending only to discover that part 16 was not yet posted. He saved the posts and followed your account,clearly wanting to read the next part as soon as it was released.

• After reading, Chan would decide to leave a supportive, playful comment, making sure to stay in character as a fan without giving himself away.

• @ cblurking97 : "OMG, I LOVE this version of Chan! 😳 The way you wrote him as this powerful, feared mafia boss is so intense—it’s like he’s a completely different person! I bet the real Chan would be so shocked if he saw this. 😂 And the twist 😳. Keep it up, author ! You’ve got me hooked!! 👏🔥 I do hope it's a happy ending though 😅".

• Chris would chuckle after posting, secretly entertained by the idea of encouraging you in disguise. He’d feel a bit mischievous, knowing you’d never suspect the actual person you were writing about was hyping you up in the comments.

• Chan would be thoroughly amused by his anonymous support. Part of him would feel proud that someone could see his leadership qualities in such an intense light, even if the setting was a bit extreme.

• His thoughts after commenting would be something like "well, that’s one way to think of me, but wow, this person is really talented… I wonder how the story will end."

• He’d quietly enjoy the way you’d brought such a unique version of him to life and rooting for you as a "fellow fan" from afar, looking forward to the plot development.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. The rest of my masterlist is here.

[itsa-me-lily]

Aight fine, I didn't get you with that one? Then how about Simon being forced on leave due to having too much saved up or injury, so now he's just always sat at home, looking like the world's most unamused housecat.

Reader leaving for work and coming back and this man is sat in the same exact spot, with the same furrowed brows and crossed arms, definitely pouting because he's being forced to not go out and kill bad guys.

More Military Program Spouse here

I just wanted you to know I got your other ask but I am hoarding it because, to quote River Song, spoilers.

This isn't replacing the idea of us trying to teach him one of our hobbies, but I do enjoy the idea of us having a shared hobby that we parallel play with.

Anyway whatever shall we do with our big ol' grumpy grumpy man?

You didn't know how many days constituted a problem, but you were pretty sure you were coming up on a problem. Simon was out on medical leave for two weeks. Why? He wouldn't tell you, simply said it was all bullshit and he was fine. You're pretty sure Johnny had tried to tell you, but going by the look of not-terror on his face, Simon had been behind you, probably making some non verbal threat like to eat his eyeballs or something if he said anything. John, at least, had been able to tell you that it wasn't anything life threatening. That Simon just needed a little R&R before coming back.

You were day three into a fourteen day stint of having your roommate husband...broski(?) back and well to say it was going poorly was probably an understatement. For the past two days you'd leave your home with Simon stationed on the couch, staring down the wall like it owed him money. Then you'd come home and he would still be sitting on the couch, still staring at the wall like it hadn't paid up. The only reason you even knew he hadn't gone into some catatonic state was because when you got home he'd at least respond to you in grunts and get up from the couch if you offered to share a meal with him. Outside of that you weren't entirely sure he moved. Which was concerning.

So now you were standing outside of your front door, almost positive you knew exactly where Simon was going to be. With a sigh you pushed open the door, took a step inside and....yup that man was still on the couch, looking like the wall still hadn't paid him.

"Simon?"

"Hn."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Hn."

"Have you...moved from the couch? Like at all?"

"Hn."

Well still not catatonic. Though honestly you were pretty he was going to get there sooner or later. With a sigh you decided that fuck it, you were going to try one thing and if it didn't work well he could rot on the couch then, at least you tried to help. So without a word you turned and walked back out into the wilderness for a solution.

--

Med leave was bullshit. The incident that lead him to med leave was bullshit. The fact that Soap nearly told you about the incident was bullshit. So he was going to spend the two weeks of forced med leave showing that he was completely fine by sitting on his couch, protecting his god damn house. A man had to keep his fucking dignity sometimes damnit.

No he was not being dramatic, and no he was not pouting. He would even respond to you when you asked him questions. He was fine. He didn't know why you had decided to just leave and come back an hour later, dumping multiple boxes onto the couch beside him. A quick look answered that they were some kind of build kit?

"The 'ell are those?"

"Something for you to do."

Simon didn't need something to do. He already had something to do, showing that he didn't need to be on med leave.

"Don't need 'em. You're just wasting your money."

"A) Your money, and b) I'll do them if you wont. So how about you stop bitching and fucking try one okay?"

Wait-what did you mean, his money? When the hell did you get your hands on his wallet? Before Simon could decide if he was offended or impressed by your acts of theft and audacity, you seemed to decide to just plop yourself onto the floor by the couch with what appeared to be your own stash of kits.

You didn't seemed bothered by his demanding stare for answers, instead already getting into the contents of what seemed to be pieces of wooden flowers. After seven and a half minutes of silence, he counted, you looked up to see if he had started anything.

"You know you don't have to be so embarrassed to admit you can't do them."

Who the fuck said anything about him being embarrassed? Or that he couldn't put a fucking wooden toy together. Given the skeptical look on your face you were fucking saying. Simon Riley could put together a fucking toy. He still had his dignity damnit.

With a huff he inspected the kits you had gotten. If he wasn't so affronted he may have been able to appreciate that you had gotten what seemed like a good variety of things, from a puzzle box to a few cars, even a tommy gun that seemed to actually be able to shoot rubber bands. He was going to put all of it together and show you that he wasn't fucking embarrassed and he could do it.

By the end of the evening he only got the puzzle box together, having spent a long time making sure everything was sanded and waxed so it was opening and closing smoothly. Of course you had an entire vase of wooden flowers and some sort of music box together. The smug smile you gave him at the fact you had more completed didn't sit right with him.

So the next day he tackled the rest of the kits you had left him. He got his revenge that night when he shot a rubber band at your ass with his completed and functioning tommy gun. Maybe those kits weren't so terrible after all. Ignoring the way you were glaring daggers into the back of his head, he happily started yet another kit, some sort of space rover looking thing.

He didn't question that the pile of kits never seemed to get smaller, or that there were sizeable purchases coming up on his account. He'd let you enjoy the spoils of actually managing to get his card without him realizing.

And so by the end of his forced med leave, Simon had his own army of wooden creations, with a few extra kits left. If anything they were something to look forward to on his next mission. And even if he wasn't expecting the new shelves in his office when he got back, he could admit that his wooden army looked rather good on them.

Maybe he'd keep an eye out for more flower kits. For variety sake.

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

Edit; He's on med leave because he got shrapnel in the ass. Don't worry his bum is okay, we can still touch it...one day

[cinnamonest]

Pulchritudinous

Tohru Adachi x Reader

Words: 9.5k

Finally the day has come. I can write a character as a misogynist incel and know it's genuinely 100% canon. What a blessing.

for this I did a teacher! reader, therefore reader is of unspecified age but older than the main cast.

//VERY DARK, female reader, major p4 spoilers, heavy misogyny because it's Adachi how could there not be, implied stalking, near-death experience, major noncon (”have sex with me or die” scenario), threats of death and bodily harm, references to homicide, hair-pulling, choking, firearms, abduction, TV set shenanigans, Tohru likes pointing guns at people

Also I was too uncreative to think of a different slip of tongue so darling makes basically the exact same mistake Adachi makes in December lmao

Synopsis: As the homeroom teacher of the late murder victim, you’re called into the Inaba police station to answer some questions.

“Okay. Just a few questions.”

You forced a polite smile.

“Sure, go ahead.”

In truth, you felt like you were wasting your time.

You already knew most of what was going on. You already knew things that the police didn't. Sitting here was pointless, answering these questions was pointless — you could give him the truth, sure, but that presented a world of problems. It pretty much went without question that that would be a poor idea — you'd be written off as crazy, especially if it somehow didn't work when they tried to replicate your story. You couldn't risk getting fired, or worse, involuntarily committed over psychiatric concerns or something along those lines.

“Konishi was in your homeroom, right?”

You nodded. “That's correct.”

“And you've been to the Junes she worked at, right?”

“Mhm. Once a week or so.”

“Was she ever working while you were there?”

“I recall seeing her there once or twice.”

Yes, it was such a waste of time it felt frustrating. There was nothing you could say — well, nothing you could reasonably say — that would actually be of any help, as much as you wish there was.

“You were one of the last people to see her alive, right? The school said she came into your classroom right before she left.”

You nodded again. “Yes, she forgot to turn something in earlier the same day, so she came back to give it to me. It was only for a few seconds.”

“Did she say anything about where she was going?”

“Not that I recall. I just assumed she was headed home, or to work.”

“Did she seem to be behaving oddly?”

“Well, ah…” you thought back to the day, hit with a twinge of pain at the recollection. “She did seem like she was in a hurry. But not particularly.”

He wrote a few things down, pen scratching at the notepad.

You fidgeted in place, awkwardly clasping your hands together. “Sorry… I know those answers aren't very helpful.”

“No, no, it’s appreciated,” he assured you, albeit seemingly distracted by his task. You gave a weak smile in acknowledgement.

You hadn't intended to become involved in any of this. Hell, you just wanted a nice, quiet life as a teacher, away from the big cities, a small, quaint school. That was it, that was all you'd asked for — a place where you thought life would be slow and peaceful.

Serial murders were not the sort of thing that was supposed to happen in towns like these.

And even then, at this point you wished the murders themselves were the worst part of it all. You never wanted to be exposed to it all, wished you never slipped into that TV. You wanted a normal life, fully within the realm of reality. Not things that defied reality, things that made you pinch your flesh until the bruises were so numerous you knew you weren't dreaming.

Those kids had saved you then, sure, but now you bore the burden of knowing. Having to be aware of such a thing, the way it weighed on your mind, the endless confusion and disbelief as you still struggled to accept it, having to see those kids’ faces in class each day, having them awkwardly come up to you in town outside of school — a routine by now, wherein they assured you that they were working hard on “the case,” and of course, in awkward roundabout ways, always seeking assurance that you hadn't said a word to anyone else.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of such thoughts, turning your attention back to Adachi.

He was trying his best, you told yourself, even if you often felt like he was perhaps not particularly well-suited for police detective work. That dopey smile, that scatterbrained nature, it didn’t seem quite aligned to most people’s idea of a cop — someone who was supposed to be stern, observant, competent.

As for you, well, you'd felt pity for him, between seeing him barked at by Dojima day in and day out, and the general stress the man seemed to be under. You'd gone out of your way to try and be nice to him, even greeted him in public when you saw him — which, given the small world that was Inaba, was fairly often.

You'd been called in for questioning a total of three times, counting today. The first two had been at more convenient hours of the day, whereas today, the detective asked you rather last-minute if you could come in right then and there — inconvenient, sure, but when you considered that it was ultimately for the sake of the poor murdered girl, you couldn't bring yourself to reject coming. Besides, you were the one that found her, it was only natural that you'd be questioned extensively.

Still, there was an issue, one you had noticed as soon as he’d started questioning.

“I don't mean to be rude, but, uh…” You gave your best attempt to be polite, “didn't we… go over most of these questions before?”

He stopped writing. His eyes widened for a moment, but then, they closed as he gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish gesture.

“Well, ah, I may or may not have misplaced the notes from last time… I was hoping you wouldn't notice… haha.”

You did not like the knowledge that this man was responsible for public safety.

Still, out of awkward politeness, you waved your hand dismissively, maintaining the pleasant, not-too-exaggerated smile plastered to your face. “Oh, no worries.”

He looked down to the ground, turning his head a bit to the side wistfully.

“Well, now that you say that, more importantly…”

He trailed off. You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head in curiosity.

He turned his head back towards you, giving you another sheepish smile.

“…To tell you the truth… there's, ah, something else I wanted to ask you about.”

There was something off about the tone with which he spoke those words, an audible indicator that whatever the subject matter he referred to was, would be something uncomfortable, unpleasant, rather than an inquiry of a neutral nature.

You blinked a few times, taken aback by the unexpected shift in atmosphere.

“Oh, uh, okay. What is it?”

There was a moment of pause, as if hesitant. He leaned back against the seat cushions, holding his hand out in an explanatory gesture.

“Well, you know, I'm a pretty observant guy, and the higher-ups have me keeping tabs on various people involved… I tend to notice and remember details, take in everything around me, you know, stuff that goes right over most people's heads.” He paused and, catching the confusion on your face, added, “just to preface. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea.”

Yes, something was off. There was a tension in the atmosphere, anticipation making you increasingly uneasy.

But still… polite. You had to be polite. He was a good guy at heart, even if awkward.

“Oh, I'm sure it's fine.” You closed your eyes for a moment as you waved your hand again. “Don't worry, I'm not sensitive or anything.”

He seemed to take that reassuringly, as his posture seemed to relax, but still hesitated a moment more before leaning forward, coming to slouch over with his elbows resting on his thighs, resting his head against one hand.

“…What's a teacher doing hanging out with a bunch of teenage boys so much?”

You hadn't been expecting any one question in particular, nor even had the slightest idea of what he could possibly want to know, but nonetheless, the question he asked was so out of bounds of normality and social appropriateness that it blindsided you completely, leaving you to sit there completely still, slack-jawed and blinking. Still, you forced a smile as you replied.

“…Ah, I… what?”

He smiled as well, seemingly oblivious to your awkward unease.

“Narukami and his friends, I mean.” He tilted his head, gazing off to the side, seemingly trying to present the matter in a nonchalant manner. "I, ah, couldn’t help but notice I saw them talking to you outside of school several times, in all sorts of places.”

“…Narukami?” You tilted your head. “A-ah, well, those kids all… go to Yasogami. So, they're all my students…”

Your thoughts shifted to the kids — your own students, the ones who saved you on that day not long ago at all. And with the thought of them, everything else, all the memories and disbelief and bewilderment, the things you'd tried to push out of your mind for the sake of your own sanity, came rushing back. Your body went stiff.

But of course, you could never even begin to tell Adachi the truth. As much as you wanted to help, you'd be written off as crazy within seconds — saying people could enter an alternate dimension by stepping inside the TV screen was not exactly within the bounds of sanity.

Besides, you still weren't even certain how all that stuff worked, having decided to rid your mind of it and not ask any questions. Even if he was willing to humor you enough to experiment with your claims, what if it didn't work for him? You could envision it now, putting his hand on the TV screen, only for nothing to happen, and the horrible embarrassment to follow.

Then again, the alternative could be even worse — if it did work, what kind of Pandora’s Box would you be opening? Would you be putting people at risk? He was, in the nicest way you could put it, a bit of a dimwit, and you wouldn’t want him doing something rash and getting himself hurt trying to go in.

No, it wasn't even worth entertaining the thought. You clasped your hands together, looking down at the ground, coming up with an explanation on the spot.

“And ever since Konishi was…” You shook your head, pausing for a moment before you continued. “…A lot of those kids have been talking to the faculty… they need someone for comfort… counseling. It's been hard on them. Hanamura and Narukami just happened to come to me.”

“Right, right.”

The phrasing itself was assurance, but somehow, his response didn’t sound entirely convincing, as if insincere, and pressed you to stammer out whatever further defense you could find.

“A-and, ah, Narukami himself is still getting adjusted to living out here and all. He's… from the city, you know.”

“Ah, aha, that makes sense.” He kept up the awkward smile. “I was worried for a minute there… that you were one of those kinds of teachers.”

You blinked, eyes going wide open as the response came out of your mouth on instinct, without any real thought, simply the obvious thing to say to such a statement. “No, no, nothing like that, I…”

You trailed off, not even sure how to continue. The sort-of-accusation hit you with total bewilderment, felt completely unexpected. In what world was that an appropriate thing to ever say to someone, especially with so little evidence? Why would his mind even go to such a trail of thought? It was only the sort of conclusion you could imagine some kind of perverse deviant drawing, and you couldn't imagine him as someone like that.

But you refrained from any strong negative reaction, outwardly at least.

You liked to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just one of those people that had difficulty understanding social conventions and standards of appropriateness — you'd had students like that in the past, and you liked to think you were a particularly empathetic and understanding person when it came to things of that nature.

“Ah, well, don’t worry, I get it now. Sorry about that… now I feel a little dumb for having asked, hah…”

"Oh, it's, ah, it's fine."

Your response was equally awkward. You knew your discomfort had to be palpable.

He flashed you an awkward smile, but it only lasted a mere second.

And then—

“Well, guess that's it for questioning.”

With those words, he reached over to the small table beside the couch, and turned the light off, leaving the room only dimly lit by lights in the outside hallway, coming in through the half-open door. He then stood up, the dated leather of the couch on his side of the table making a slight sound at the moment.

“A-ah, um, what are—”

Your jaw clamped shut as he quickly ventured around the table and sat down next to you — directly next to you, your thighs touching each other’s. You went rigid, hands clasped together on your lap tightening their grip on each other.

“Don’t worry, I had a feeling you weren’t that sort,” he said, a much lower, more hushed voice. “Still, you should really be more careful… it'd be easy for someone to get the wrong idea.”

Your mouth felt dry. You sensed that the pause was intentional, giving you room to say something in return, yet the utterly bizarre and off-putting shift of the conversation, combined with the sudden proximity and invasion of your personal space, left you silent, slack-jawed, and thus, he filled the silence when you didn’t respond.

“…Speaking of, you're getting kinda up there, age-wise, you know. Kinda surprising you're all by yourself.”

He leaned back against the couch. Alarm bells sounded in your head. You didn't want to be rude, you didn't want to risk overreacting — maybe you had the wrong idea, maybe you were misunderstanding, and then it would look really bad on your part if you acted on that misunderstanding, maybe he wasn't aware of how it was coming off, the possibilities of what was happening flew through your mind all at once. You sat still, but stiff.

He didn't seem to notice.

“You really should start thinking about your future.”

You felt every nerve ending in your body ignite with the discomfort and alarm of unfamiliarity as his arm wrapped around the back side of the couch, coming to touch the back of your neck, forearm resting on your shoulder. The casual hold around you grew tighter, his arm pushing you inward towards him.

“You know, ‘cause most women your age are getting into serious rela—”

You moved on pure reflex.

Your body sprang back in the opposite direction, feet scrambling against the tile. Your hands reflexively pushed outward, shoving against him, and you found yourself tumbling off the couch and falling flat onto the floor, grunting as your tailbone hit the harsh surface.

For a moment, the pain that it sent up your spine consumed your attention, distracting you for a few seconds as you winced, pulling yourself to sit upright.

And then, you processed what you'd done. Your head snapped back upwards to look at him. “A-ah, I…”

He looked caught off-guard, momentarily wide-eyed with the sudden startle, having been moved slightly to the side by the force of your push.

And then, his face fell.

His eyes went half-lidded, smile disappearing. A total shift in expression, to one you had never seen the young officer wear before — one you wouldn't have thought his face was capable of.

His voice dropped low, a flat and empty tone.

“…You too, huh.”

You blinked rapidly, heart only beating harder and faster at the feeling of dread and alarm that began to rise up in your stomach. You pushed yourself backwards, hands pushing at the ground to move your body away from him.

“What… what do you—”

“And here I thought you were such a sweet girl.” His voice interrupted yours as he took a step forward, a cold dramaticism to his tone. “So nice… you really seemed to get me.”

You blinked in bewilderment, cold dread beginning to bloom in your gut. You barely knew the man, having only spoken to him a handful of times, most of which were about the case, and a few passing words when you ran into each other in town.

He stopped once he reached you, his shadow looming over your sprawled form. His eyes narrowed.

“But no, you're just another snobby little bitch, aren't you.” His nose wrinkled with his expression of disgust. “Think you're too good for me, don't you?”

You scrambled up to your feet, stumbling on unsteady legs. You pulled your hands up to your chest, curling them into fists, a defensive reflex. Confusion and panic rapidly began to take over, you could feel your heart beginning to pound heavy and fast as the reality of the situation settled in.

“No, no I—” you swallowed, shaking your head in an instinctive reaction to the sudden hostility. “I didn’t mean to—I was just startled, don’t…”

You found yourself trailing off, unable to summon coherent words through your alarm.

He looked you up and down, expression of apathetic disdain unwavering.

“And to think I gave you a chance.” He sighed. “Thought you'd be different from those two.”

You blinked. Something about those words hit you like a punch to the stomach, but you couldn't tell why. Like a siren going off in your head, a chill that ran through your blood, your gut instincts unmistakably commanding you to get away — and you would, except for the fact that, as you realized with the sense of alarm in your chest growing exponentially, he stood between you and the only exit from the room.

“What… what do you mean those—”

Your words cut off.

Time itself came to a standstill. You stood, motionless as a corpse, as a chill pierced your chest. A deep, profound sensation of cold that spread out from your heart, into your blood. You were certain you could physically feel the ice spread out through your veins, to every cell in your being, an all-consuming cold.

You realized that, as he said those words, his gaze shifted over to the side. Your eyes followed his line of sight.

He was looking at the TV, tucked away on a stand in the corner of the room.

Why was he looking at the TV?

You could feel your pulse in your chest. You could feel your pulse in your neck. You could feel it in your head, your fingertips, the way the blood began to rush through your body, the way your heart began to pound, an electrifying sensation setting every nerve in your body alight.

The direction of his gaze, his words, the sudden shift in demeanor so drastic it felt as if he’d swapped places with a different person entirely— it made the hairs on your body stand on end, goosebumps spreading across your skin, and a deep, unnerving sense of nauseous dread as your frantic thoughts began to align. Your muscles went tense, shoulders bunching up.

Words came out between your lips, words you heard more than you spoke, as if your mouth moved on its own. A low murmur, just barely above a whisper.

“…Did…”

You took a step backwards. Your body twitched, shivered.

“…Did you…?”

Silence hung in the air.

You would expect someone in his position to look shocked, panicked, regardless of the truth of the matter. To rush to their own defense, to immediate respond.

But he did not.

There was a few seconds of pause. For just a moment, his eyebrows raised, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

And then, the officer's eyes fell half-lidded, and ever so slowly, the corners of his mouth pulled upward.

Something inhuman stared down at you, a malicious, sinister grin spread across his face, stretched just far enough to look inhuman, uncanny.

Your heart began to speed up. Your voice grew louder, but it audibly wavered with panic.

“You… you put them in there?”

That time, it was his turn for his eyes to go wide, an eerie smile slowly spreading across his face. He tilted his head, the motion seeming almost mechanical.

“Oh…?”

A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you caught your mistake. Your hands instinctively darted to cover your mouth, but it was too late. He took ominously slow steps towards you, each one making a harsh clack as his soles made contact with the tile.

“’Put them in there…?’ What an odd choice of words…” His voice grew lower, deeper, eyes still plastered wide open. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you know some things you have no business knowing.”

You took a step back.

He took a step forward.

“How might that be…? Those kids, maybe?” He cast his gaze over to the TV once more. “I had a feeling something like that might be going on, with you talking to them so much.”

Then, his eyes slowly turned back towards you.

He kept smiling. The same expression, yet so far removed from the cheerful, dopey one you were so used to, the face almost didn't register with your recognition, as if you were looking at a different person.

And then, it grew so much it made his eyes narrow, from mere malicious amusement, to sadistic glee.

“…Intentionally withholding information from the police is a pretty serious offense, you know. ‘Obstruction of justice.’ It’s a felony.”

Your stomach churned, you felt nauseous, muscles tense with the urge to move, but forced still by lack of option. You could only move back further, further away from both him and your only way away from him.

“What… what about the other people that went in? Was that you, too?”

His face fell, almost comically, shifting from eerie to unamused, as if your question was so exasperating it made him drop the intimidating act.

“…God, you are really, really stupid, you know that?” He sighed, shoulders falling. “You just realized that saying too much is a bad idea, and then you immediately do it again?” He shook his head, letting it fall downward with mock exasperation. “Geez, lady.”

But then, you saw his expression perk up with amusement once more.

“But, guess that means I was right… you are collaborating with those brats. I had a feeling.”

Your heart pounded harder still. You kept stumbling back as he crept ever closer, torturously slowly. You held your hands up to your chest in a natural, reflexive instinct of defense, shrinking back.

“…You’re not… saying you didn’t… do it…?”

He shrugged.

“Don't see much of a point in that now.”

He wasn't denying it.

But the simple fact itself was not what made every hair on your body stand up. It was a slow buildup of dread, blooming in your chest, and as the thoughts processed, it was those words, more than any others thus far, that made your blood run cold.

He didn't care if you knew.

He didn't see you being a threat. He wasn't worried about you telling anyone.

Then—

You felt cold. Time seemed to slow down. You were hyper-aware of every muscle, every nerve, you could feel the blood rushing through your body.

“Guess we were both hiding something,” he said in a low tone, taking another step, forcing you further back.

And then, the inevitable happened, causing your blood to run colder still, the fear in your system amplified tenfold in a single second.

Your back hit the corner.

You pressed into it as hard as you could out of instinct to get away, as if it would give way if you did.

But it did not. You were trapped, a little animal cornered by its hunter.

“Ah… ah…” Your breathing grew ragged. Your body trembled, your eyes began to water. “I… Adachi-san…”

The only light was that which came in through the hall, hitting his back, casting a shadow over his face, only the whites of his eyes and grinning teeth standing out — nightmarish, something that could only be recognized as sadistic ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated malice.

He was going to throw you in. He was going to throw you in there and you’d die. The image ran through your mind, so quickly retrieved now that it was irreparably burned into your brain, the shape caught up in the wires, a black outline in the early morning light, how you’d told yourself you were just seeing things, that your brain was spooked from the news of the prior murder, before the rising sun made the image undeniable.

The way you’d squinted and facial recognition hit your body like a punch to the stomach, taking the breath out of your lungs, how you felt the horror slowly rise up into your chest like ice cold water filling your body, how you’d dropped your phone and struggled to dial the police from how hard your hands trembled.

It would be you. You’d be strung up on the wires, dangling by your limbs in a manner almost graceful if not for the entrenchment in death.

You could tell that he could see it all playing out on your face, the thoughts and realizations and terror, by the way his smile split at the line, whites of his teeth standing out in the darkness.

“Well then.”

You didn't have time to move. Before you could even react, he had the collar of your shirt in his hand, twisting the fabric, pulling you upward.

You stumbled around, only the balls of your feet able to even touch the ground. “Wait, wait, stop— I’m sorry—”

“What was that?” He said, voice mocking, cynical. “You said you were sorry?”

You nodded profusely. You weren't thinking too much about it — your only instinct was that trying to appease him might save you.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I was just startled, I wasn't trying to push you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

You spoke so fast your words slurred together, your voice was shrill and cracking. Tears began to pour down your cheeks. Your body shivered beyond your control, a fear unlike anything you'd known in your life.

There was no movement, no harsh dragging and jerking and inevitable pushing you might have expected.

“…Hm.”

You could only make out the shape and colors of his face, unable to see his exact expression through the blur of your tears. But his voice was hesitant, pensive, as if the blood-pumping rush of the moment were brought to a sudden stop.

Your heels connected to the ground as he lowered you, but he didn't let go of the fistful of your shirt. His other hand reached up, and although you winced in anticipation, all he did was wipe at your eyes with his sleeve. Trembling, teeth chattering, you slowly turned your head up to look at him, his face now so much closer than it had ever been.

The smile was smaller, fainter, but still present nonetheless.

“…You know what? I like you, Little Miss Teacher.”

He reached up to grab your jaw, a harsh and painful grip.

“Look at you, apologizing like that… so meek.” He leaned his face closer to yours, lowering his voice to a husky murmur. “You seem like you know your place, recognize your mistakes…” His voice lowered to bitter mutter as he finished, “instead of doubling down on being a bitch.”

He pulled your head to tilt further upward, forcing a degree of eye contact no matter which way you looked. He spoke lower, quieter.

“Self-awareness is a good trait to have.”

You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Your throat was strained, your mind ran blank. You could only stare with wide eyes, fighting every instinct to claw at his hands, what little rationality you had left telling you it would only worsen your situation.

“But I still think you're a little full of yourself.” His fingernails pushed into the flesh of your face. “You could use some humility.”

You whimpered, a pitiful little sound. You could see his smile grow as it met his ears.

He let go.

You crumpled to the ground, knees hitting the surface painfully, hands pressing to the floor to keep you from toppling over entirely.

He took a few slow, nonchalant steps back towards the center of the room, pausing as he reached a small table close to the door, turning back towards you and leaning against it.

“Hey, how ‘bout I give you a chance to redeem yourself?” He titled his head. “If you can prove you're sorry, I think I can let this slide.”

He reached one hand over to the opposite hip. Before you could even make out in the dark what he pulled out from underneath the veil of his suit jacket, the recognition hit as he extended his arm back out to point the object at you, and a heart-stopping, unmistakable click.

“Go on. I'm waiting.”

You trembled, reaching one hand to clutch to your chest again. “What… what do you want me to do…?”

His face turned unamused once more, voice equally so as he gave a blunt, low-voiced reply.

“You’re not that stupid.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your throat. You swallowed, looking down.

For a moment, you hesitated. Your mind scrambled for reasons why he couldn’t kill you. He couldn't — right? Your blood would get on the floor, he wouldn't have the ability to clean it out well enough, right?

But no one else knew you were here. No one would know to look here. If he cleaned it up and threw your body in, that would be the end of it.

There was no other option.

Your trembling hands reached down to your outfit — a cardigan, a button-up and a pencil skirt, the general standard for your profession — and slipped the outermost layer off. After a moment of uncertain hesitation, you resolved to simply throw it into the floor. Then, you began unfastening the first button at the top of your shirt, struggling with how hard you shivered.

“You wear that to school?” His words broke the momentary silence. “In front of a bunch of teenagers?”

You clenched your jaw. You didn't think it was in any way inappropriate. “I… it’s not bad…”

“Wonder how that's even allowed,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “You get off to high school boys staring at you, is that it?”

You shifted uncomfortably, shaking your head. “N-no, I've never—”

“God, you are that kind of teacher after all. Haha!” He laughed aloud, reaching his other palm upon to his face. “I knew you were. I could tell just by watching you walking out the school gates every day… always talking to that brat.” He shook his head, then sighed. “No wonder girls these days are such whores, with role models like that.”

You stopped mid-motion, hands clenching at your shirt as the meaning of his words registered. Images flashed through your mind, all the unique and loveable young girls in your class, and of her. Even in your dread, you found spiteful anger bubbling up in your chest, voice coming out weak and wavering, but defiant nonetheless.

“Don't… don't say things like that, you—”

“Did I tell you to stop?” His head snapped back in your direction, nose wrinkling with an expression of disgust.

You winced, mouth snapping shut. With tears prickling at your eyes, you continued.

Your jaw was clenched, face growing warm as you undid the last button, hesitating for a moment before you let it fall off your shoulders, weakly tossing it to the floor as well before going for the zipper on the side of the skirt, shaky fingers pulling it downward.

“So mechanical about it…” He sighed, disappointed. “If you're not gonna even try and make this part entertaining, the least you can do is hurry it up.” He gave the pistol a light shake to emphasize. “C'mon.”

You bit your lip, forcing your pace faster. The skirt hit the ground, and you pulled your tights off your legs so quickly that one side split open as you did. Your feet pulled out of your shoes, tile cold against your bare soles.

Then, you hesitated. Embarrassment washed over you as you looked down at all that was left.

Your eyes darted up to the man pointing the gun at you once more. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with that cocky smirk on his face, nudging the pistol in the direction of the pile of clothing now by your side.

You closed your eyes and reached your hands behind your back, elastic material snapping as you undid the clasp. You pulled the waistband around your hips downward, and tossed both to the side.

The air was cold against your skin. Goosebumps covered your body, far more for from fear than the chill.

You reached a hand up over your chest, pressing your legs together, trying to find some semblance of dignity.

“Aw, shy? That's adorable.” He chuckled. Snide grin unfaltering, he reached his other hand up, gesturing with a finger for you to come forward. The other arm didn't move, deadly weapon still pointed directly at you.

You tried, but your body wouldn't move. The instinct to stay away was too strong, an inherent gut reaction bred into your brain by who knew how many millions of years of survival of your species.

Prey animals didn't run right into the gaping maw of their predators.

But you had to. You had to.

You took a deep breath, and forced one of your legs to move forward. Then another, forming a forward momentum that you just had to keep going, more a matter of letting your weight glide forward and catching it again and again, rather than forcing each step individually. You kept your gaze at the ground. If you looked up, you knew you'd freeze again, and you didn't know if you had the willpower to force movement from stillness again.

You stopped when his legs were visibly right before you. Your heart was pounding, beating so fiercely you could physically see the pulsating of your wrist moving with the flow of blood.

“There, see?” He reached forward, placing his hand atop your head. “You know your place after all.”

Even through the overwhelming sensation of heavy dread, the burn of humiliated fury made its way through. You clamped your jaw harshly, teeth grinding, but not letting that anger lead you to any foolish action.

You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes as his hands then brushed against your shoulder. The touch was cold, leaving a trail of sensation as his hand trailed down your arm, the electrifying feeling lasting on each spot even after it was touched. You winced at the gentle clack sound as the gun was set down on the table’s surface.

And then, you went tense, inhaling a sharp breath as his hands harshly grabbed at your arm and your neck, roughly turning you around and pushing your upper body downward. Your feet stumbled to steady your stance, and your hands reached out to the nearby wall. The panic in your chest felt as if some accumulating bubble of emotion had burst, the intense chill of suddenly rushing through your body, leaving you unable to do anything but stand there — a bitter helplessness, a burning fury at your own pathetic weakness beneath the terror.

“Oh, and hey,” his fingers dug painfully into your arm, “feel free to scream or whatever. I made sure to pick a night no one else would be here.”

You stiffened. Even in your fear and panic and confusion, you managed to make the words out well enough to infer the implication. You turned your head over your shoulder to the best of your ability.

“You—you… planned…?”

“Mm?” He raised an eyebrow. “Obviously. I needed the station to be empty in case you made me kill you, y’know?” He said it nonchalantly, as if it were a trivial matter. “But hey, it was only insurance, just in case… I knew I probably wouldn’t need it. You seemed like you’d be good for me.”

He pulled harshly at the fistful of your hair.

“And whaddya know, I was right. Third time's the charm… or whatever that saying is.”

Bitterness welled in your chest. Your head hung heavily against his hold, pulling at your scalp.

“Now…”

You winced and yelped as he turned you around and your face hit the table, pain radiating from the spot of impact. Your immediate reflex was to put your hands on the table and push upward, but his hand in your hair kept you shoved downward, with an added hand pressing your back into an arch.

You didn't get any moments of mental preparation, much less physical. No sooner had you grunted in pain from the impact than you felt the sudden harsh burning sear of friction to the most sensitive flesh, your body being forced apart by sudden intrusion. You inhaled a sharp, gasping breath, instinctively trying to lurch forward away from the sting, but his hands easily pulled you back, pushing further inside of you until you felt the fabric at the front of his thighs meet the back of yours, hips pressed up against your ass.

“God, fuck.” You heard his voice from behind you, spoken more like a harsh whisper of breath. “…’s warm…”

He pulled back. You gasped and whimpered at the sensation of flesh dragging against your insides, onto to squeal, body jolting as he slammed back inside in one swift motion. Twice, a third time, each making you go tense, shivering, walls spasming.

“M-Maybe you're not such a slut after all…” he murmured. “You feel good.”

You said nothing, unable to summon any words, merely letting out a miserable little sound as the rough motions continued, pressing your forehead to the flat surface below as tears fell down your face and a soft string of under-the-breath curses made their way to your ears.

And then, the motion came to a halt.

“But you're so noisy… listening to you squealing like that is giving me a headache.”

A moment of pause, heavy tension, deliberately drawn out. You felt the faintest shift of muscle against your backside as he turned his upper body over in the direction of the television.

You grunted as he pulled out, leaving your hole twitching. His arms wrapped around you waist, lifting you just enough that your feet left the ground, somewhat awkwardly making a few steps over to where the screen sat in its place on the stand. Your heart felt as if it were going to burst out of your chest, a cold rush ran through your body.

His hand reached up, taking a fistful of your hair once more.

“And you know what else…”

He came to a halt, sheathing himself back inside of you with a harshness that made your jaw clench in pain, taking a few heaving breaths before practically growling into your ear.

“You're not afraid enough.”

Your own breath was ragged, more panic than you'd ever felt in your life causing your heart to pound like it never had before. “No, no please don't—don’t—”

And then, taking a fistful of your hair in his hand once more, he shoved your upper half through the screen.

Out of pure logical instinct, you tensed and squeezed your eyes shut as to brace yourself for brute impact, for shattering glass that would cut your scalp and scrape your arms.

But instead, there was a sudden void. All the noises of your scuffling movements and the low hum of the air ventilation system in the station was suddenly gone, replaced by only hollow quiet, only broken by the low, eerie groan of the atmosphere itself.

Your arms reached out, desperately seeking something to grab, to hold, to push back on, but you felt nothing, limbs merely frantically flailing into the yellow void.

You squealed, but that time, it echoed around you, surrounded by a thick, heavy fog. You could make out the deep yellow atmosphere around you, but you were being jerked back and forth so harshly, and the tears in your eyes and the fog itself so deeply blurring your vision, to the point it was impossible to make out anything.

You couldn't hear him anymore — but even so, you could still feel him pounding into your body.

He tilted you forward. You felt his arm, having pushed through the screen, latch onto the back of your shirt to keep you from falling. Your feet left the ground, your weight shifting from being mostly on the other side, to most of it falling forward on the side of your upper half. You were entirely suspended by his strength.

If he were to let go, you'd fall in completely.

You shrieked. A high-pitched wail that echoed all around you, a sound of pure terror. Your hands reached out in an attempt to push yourself back, but found nothing, merely flailing in the air.

And then, you were jerked backwards.

Your squealing continued until he slapped his hand over your mouth.

You could hear it again, the slapping of skin on skin. Your body was fully back in the real world. Your back hit his chest.

“Was that the sound you were making the whole time your head was in there?” There was mirth in his voice, laughing out the words themselves. “You wanna go back in? Kinda nice in there, isn’t it?”

“No, no!” You shook your head rapidly. “D-don’t, please, I don't want—”

“You could go all the way in, you know.” He pulled on your hair harshly as he jerked his hips forward and came to a halt, holding you still, pain shooting through your scalp. “It would be so easy,” he hissed into your ear. “All it would take is one little push.”

You gasped for breath, unable to respond beyond shaking your head further.

“You haven't been on the Midnight Channel, either,” he added. “Those little brats wouldn't know to come looking for you ‘till it was too late.”

He chuckled, a deranged, low sort — and then went quiet. His torso leaned further forward, face brushing against the side of your neck in a gesture that, in any other context, could have been affectionate. Still sheathed inside your body, he slowly rolled his hips again, a long-drawn out movement, savoring the feeling. Your face scrunched up with uninhibited despair as he spoke again, through labored breaths, as he began to speed up the pace again.

“…But you know what? I don't need the TV to kill you.”

Then, his voice lowered. The playful mockery vanished, something far darker that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally broke through — a low growling voice, a deep, furious malice.

“Stupid fucking woman. I could snap your neck. I could put my hands—”

His hand reached up—

“—On your throat and just—”

It squeezed hard. You jolted and gagged as your airway was cut off.

“I could kill you with my bare hands, right here. Is that what you want?”

You didn't give a verbal response, merely shaking your head rapidly, animal-like whines of fear coming out of your throat.

But that wasn't enough. You heard a low, growl-like sound in your ear, and his voice came out equally so, almost inhuman.

“I said, is that what you fucking want?!”

“No! No, please, Adachi-san, please don't—”

Tears, snot and saliva coated your face. You shook your head, whimpers fragmented by each harsh, rapid thrust that shoved your body forward, each jerk of his arms that pulled you back, and muffled by your asphyxiation.

You could feel his breath on your ear as he continued.

“Then you want me to keep fucking you, don't you?”

It was obvious, of course, that that was what he meant — the only alternative to death. You nodded, choking out your words.

“Yes, please…”

He didn’t respond immediately, moving fast enough that he had to take a few heavy, ragged breaths before hissing the words into your ear through clenched teeth.

“Then beg for it.” His fingers curled further, nails digging into your flesh — yet lightening the pressure on your throat, allowing you to breathe, even if only with heaving effort. “I wanna hear how good you can beg for me.”

You whimpered, mouth hanging open as you tried and failed to summon any words, emotion and stimulus so overwhelming it hindered your ability to even think. His cock stretched you apart, the circumstantial fear causing you to clamp down so hard that he was practically constantly pushing inward with force, rather than your body pulling him in as it might have done with someone you were willingly allowing to do these things to you. Each movement drug against your insides with coarse, burning friction.

He huffed in impatience.

“C’mon. Do it—”

He snapped his hips forward especially harsh, ramming your whole body forward with the force.

“—Like your life depends on it.”

The jerking motion snapped you out of the momentary stupor. Your voice trembled.

“Ah, ah, Adachi-s-san, please, I—”

“Oh, come on. Is that how you call your lover?”

Your brain scrambled to rectify the matter, but he was such a near-stranger to you, you couldn't remember. Maybe he'd said it once, but even as you desperately tried to recall, you couldn't.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I don't… I don't know your…”

There was a pause. You heard the soft, disdainful tch from his mouth.

“Tohru.”

You swallowed.

“T-Tohru…” You squeezed your eyes shut, words coming out uneasy, blatantly forced and foreign. “Please, Tohru, don’t… d-don’t stop, don’t…”

It must have been good enough, as you felt his fingers dig into your hips harder, felt his body shudder against yours.

“Heh… haha…” The amusement in his voice made a bitter burning swell in your chest. “You get off to this, don't you?”

Your mouth opened to protest, to say no.

But you stopped short, a throaty whine coming out of your mouth. Your priority was survival.

You nodded your head.

“’Course you do,” he mumbled, voice growing increasingly husky and laden with labored breaths. He jerked your hair again, pulling you even further towards him, ensuring his chest was firmly pressed to your back. “Little whore… it's always the girls that look so wholesome that are into the freakiest shit, huh."

You could hear the strain in his voice as it began to waver. He leaned in closer, breath hot on your ear.

"This was probably what you wanted, wasn't it? The whole hard-to-get shtick is fun for you, isn't it?"

Once more, you ignored any emotions or knee-jerk reaction of such an accusation, repressed the bitter fury, merely nodded your head. "Mhm, mm..." Your lip trembled, tears leaking out and trailing down your cheeks.

His hips moved faster and faster still, the movement growing frenzied and erratic.

“Of course you’d turn— turn out to be such, such a slut… I knew you’d want it, I knew you—shit—”

He came to a sudden halt, one final jerking pull of your hips to meet his, sheathed fully inside. You felt his cock twitch inside your body.

And then, everything was still.

With the sudden end of the slapping of skin on skin that had reverberated around the room, there was a sudden void of quiet, near silence, barring ragged breathing. You kept perfectly still, the shock and emotion that still coursed through your body so intense, you didn’t even shiver.

Your mind felt as if in a fog, a heavy daze that left you feeling cold and numb, everything felt far away, not real, distant. You kept still, staring forward.

It wasn’t until you felt him slide out of your body, releasing his hold, that you snapped out of the daze, stumbling forward, falling to your knees, legs far too weakened and stiff to support you.

For a moment, you kept your gaze at the ground. You tried to let your mind slip back into the stupor, desperate for some sense of escape, to savor the few precious seconds you could let yourself be anywhere but here, that you could shut him and the reality before you out, that you could delay facing having to look at him again.

But it was only the briefest of seconds before the light from down the hall was cut off again by the shadow looming over you. You began to shiver, chest heaving with breaths that burned your lungs.

Slowly, with eyes and expression blank with the remnant shock and daze, pathetically curled up on the floor, you turned your head upward.

“…Congratulations, Miss Teacher.” You could see the smile once more, the whites of his teeth practically glowing against the shadow, the cruel mockery in his voice crawling under your skin. “You’re way too meek. I've decided killing you would be no fun. Aren't you happy?”

Each gasp for breath burned in your throat, your chest. The words didn’t register immediately — several quiet seconds passed as you slumped over, staring up at him in a dazed stupor, body shivering with aftershock and weariness.

“Th-then… I…” you swallowed, body trembling beyond your control. “I can… go…?”

His eyebrows raised, a momentary look of surprise.

“Huh? Oh, no, no, you—” he cut off with a small bout of laughs, holding his palm to his face and tilting his head upward as if you'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. “Ahaha, don't tell me you actually thought I was just going to let you leave? That's—” He cut off with another laugh.

Your heart felt as if it sank. You felt cold.

And then, he went quiet. He slowly turned his gaze back to you, voice growing lower, quieter, a dramatic ominousness exuding from his body with his words.

“What kind of protector of the public would I be if I just let such a suspicious person walk right out of here?” Hands on his hips and eyes closed, he tilted his head downward and sighed, slowly shaking it back and forth in a mock gesture of exasperation. “You withheld information from the police, regarding a murder at that, and you seem to have knowledge of the killer’s M.O…. that’s what we call a ‘person of interest’ in cases like this, you know.”

And then, despite his momentary attempt at mock seriousness, his restraint seemed to crumble away as the corners of his mouth turned upward, malicious glee breaking through the act. His eyes opened just enough to look at you, narrowed by the grin spreading across his face once more.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to remain in police custody for the foreseeable future.”

You curled in further on yourself, shoulders hunching up, hands curling into fists before you brought them up to your chest in a meek, defensive instinct. Your throat felt dry. You felt your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

The way the smile on his face curled further made it clear the despair showed on your face. He chuckled.

“Well, c’mon. Put some clothes on.” He tilted his head in the direction of where they sat on the floor. “You can't walk out there naked.”

Your eyes widened. The words gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach. “…Out… there…?”

He sighed.

“God, you really are dense. Did you not get that? I’m taking you home.”

You didn’t really know what you expected, as the conclusion from his earlier words was obvious, yet hearing him say it so directly made another surge of panic course through your body. Instinctively, and perhaps against better judgement, you shook your head.

“But, but I can’t— I don’t want—”

“…Oh?” His eyes narrowed, unamused and dark expression on his face. “Well, if you don't wanna come with me, then…”

His eyes trailed back over to the television.

Even as exhaustion wore over your body, fear still gripped at your chest, and your answer came on instinct.

“N-no, I'll go with you, I'll…” You swallowed, squeezing your teary eyes shut for a moment before looking back up at him. Your body was shivering. Your next words came out in a hushed, high-pitched whimper, audibly verging on tears. “…I'll go…”

The smile returned to his face.

“Good girl.”

The words made you shudder, revulsion and disgust a twisting feeling in your gut.

After a brief pause, he gestured to your clothes again.

You looked over, but the fear kept you frozen. After a few still seconds, realizing you weren’t moving, he sighed, walking over himself, grabbing the bundle in a few swift motions before throwing the loose pile over to you. You swallowed, hands shaking and dropping the pieces more than once as you forced yourself to put them on, little by little, albeit now dusty, wrinkled and disheveled. You kept your gaze to the floor as you did, but you felt his piercing gaze on you all the same.

And the moment you fastened the last button, with no hesitation, you felt his hand latch onto the back of the collar of your shirt, harshly pulling you upright.

“Come on. Don’t try that stalling shit.” His voice was now impatient, irritated.

You stumbled on shaky legs, forced to grasp onto him to steady yourself. “I, I’m not—” you swallowed. “…Sorry…”

He didn’t respond for a moment, merely wrapping his hand around your upper arm in a tight, bruising grip, jerking you forward harshly. You stumbled as you were rapidly dragged forward, quickly exiting the room, out into the hall.

“And don’t worry,” he spoke again, “I’ve got a nice little closet to keep you in ‘til I can work something better out. Won’t that be nice?”

You didn’t respond, until you felt a sudden harsh squeeze in the grip on your arm. You closed your eyes and nodded. “I, yes…”

He seemed satisfied with the answer, continuing on, “Besides, being a cop has it's advantages. I can get more handcuffs, monitoring devices… it'll work out just fine. And hey, if you're really good, maybe I’ll hurt you a little less, yeah?”

You bit your lip.

It was all happening too fast to sink in, your mind struggled to process. You were leaving, he was taking you, you had to get away, but you had no way to get away, it wasn’t real it wasn’t happening it wasn’t right—

He halted as you reached the front of the police station. The sudden stop made you stumble forward in your momentum, clinging to him to steady yourself once again. You looked up at him in fearful confusion, and he cast another heinous grin down at you.

“Now, I’m not gonna cuff you just yet, ‘case we run into someone, that would give people the wrong idea and all… but don't think about trying to run or scream or some other stupid shit, either. I dunno if you’re dumb enough to think you could outrun me, but…”

He reached his hand over so that the edge of his jacket was brushed back, unveiling the same gun from before that had since been holstered back to his belt.

“Personally, I'm pretty content with the holes you already have… but I'd still be happy to blow a few more into your legs, if need be.” He tilted his head. “And that river down at the edge of town’s real nice and deep, if you decide to go screaming and drag some poor bastard into this. Got that?”

You lip trembled. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

“Good, good. Now…”

He pulled you forward again, the stride bringing you close enough to the front that the automatic doors slid apart. The cool, humid air hit your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, right. One more thing.” He cleared his throat, turned to you with that godawful grin of cruel amusement, and in a mocking, dramatized voice, said, “you have the right to remain silent, miss.”

Your chest burned with fury. Tears welled in your eyes, your face pitifully contorting with bitter anger.

It was the reaction he wanted. He laughed once more, holding the hand that wasn’t gripping your arm up to his face.

“Ah, that’s adorable. You’re fun to mess with, you know… that’s good.”

With that, he drug you forward again, out through the door.

Your shoulders jerked with a silent sob. Your fingers curled into a fist, and your lip quivered as you spoke in a hushed, but hissing tone, filled with fear and hatred.

“You're a murderer.”

You got only a sigh in response.

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever.”

With an iron grip on your arm, the police detective led you out into the rural streets, the night air freezing against your bare skin. You followed with stumbling footsteps, legs trembling in trepidation. Unable to do anything but follow.

You realized, as the last strands of hope in your chest faded away, that even if there was someone out there, they might not even see you, with the visibility so low.

Likewise, you turned your head back towards the station, but within just a short distance, it was already completely obscured by the fog.

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Someone's there.

Bucky x Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

AN: This is definitely not what I intended to write when I started but anyway. Have good day my dudes!!!

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

[letters-from-dekarios]

aftermath

summary: you, your boyfriend, and your companions just saved the entire world from being turned into giant squid people. now, you have to go back to normal. how do you even do that?

or: you have anxiety over the future and gale comforts you.

word count: 2.3k

tags: sad angst/fluff, gale x gn!reader, tara is also there for a minute <3

As night fell over the city, a calm hush washed over you. This should have been a normal night, circled around the campfire with three of your close companions. You should be mentally preparing for the day to come, what trials you will encounter, and what people you’ll help. But tonight.. tonight was different. With the threat of a mindflayer infection gone, settling into a cozy bed with your boyfriend, Gale, almost felt.. wrong?

Wrong? Why would it be wrong? You’d been dreaming of having this moment together for ages now, and now you’re finally living it! The moonlight danced over your face as you turned to get comfortable, pushing the anxiety away from you with force. But as soon as you tried to close your eyes again, it came washing right back over you.

You turned onto your back once more, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. You finally had a good, steady home after all those months fighting for it, and yet— you wanted nothing more than the comfort of having a purpose that was more than simply existing in this life.

Part of you wondered if that would ever wear off- perhaps you’d go scaring Gale half to death by seeking out a new adventure and new threats to conquer. The other part of you just wanted to get some damn sleep. And, well, also wondered when you’d settle back into “normal” life again. Could you even grasp that concept long enough to imagine it? After all, you weren’t exactly the ‘normal’ type.

Mindflayer specimens aside, you had changed as a person over the last few months. You were no longer the same as when you were abducted, no longer a simple baldurian trying to get by. You were a hero, known across all of Baldur’s gate— and further— for your acts. Normal didn’t really… exist for you, anymore.

Almost sensing your unease, Tara found her way into the bedroom. You hated to say it, but you found yourself seeing Gale’s comparison more and more every day. It’s a compliment! You almost had to remind yourself of that.

“Mister Dekarios won’t be pleased if he sees you awake,” Tara called from her ledge by the window. You turned to face her, a small smile greeting her presence.

“Mister Dekarios won’t be pleased if he sees those pigeon feathers in your fur, either.” You bantered with the Tressym. Tara had taken a liking to you, and you were rather glad for that.

With a small noise akin to a ‘tisk’, and a nudge to Gale, Tara was off back into the night. If only it were that easy.

It would take Gale a moment to wake, you knew that, so you stood and headed towards the window. Looking out over the city, mostly silent save for the occasional drunkard or merchant, your mind began to wander. Would you be here, now, with the one man you loved most, if it hadn’t been for those mindflayers? Would you ever have even crossed paths? You couldn’t answer that, and you didn’t want to, either.

A breeze slipped through the window, pushing your hair away from your face. You wrapped your arms around yourself, bracing for whatever would come next. What would come next?

Gale finally began to stir, a groan leaving him as he awoke in the dead of night. You pitied the wizard now and then, it was like he could never get enough sleep. Though… was it the age or the tadpoles that did it? You had no idea.

“Love..?” He called out, reaching to his side for you only to find you not there.

“Over here.” You replied, turning your head towards him so he could see you.

He made his way out of the bed, stretching out before stepping towards you. His hand found its way to your lower back, comforting the unspoken worries he could see on your face.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked a familiar question you were always unsure about answering. You might’ve responded ‘a flesh-eating tadpole’ before, but now that joke was obsolete.

“Come on, now, you’ve got something on that pretty little mind of yours— and it isn’t a tadpole this time.” Or, perhaps, Gale would make the joke for you.

“How do you do it?” You asked, turning your face back out to the city.

“Do what?”

“Go back to normal? I mean.. just a few weeks ago we didn’t know if we’d live or die and now.. now we’re supposed to cuddle together without the looming threats over our heads? How do you do it?” Desperation for an answer that would satisfy you lingered in your eyes as you looked up at him. How could he even begin to answer that?

“Darling…” Gale sighed, reaching up to cup your face with one hand. The other, still on your back, ran in a gentle, soothing circle.

“As much as it pains me to say it, there really is no… ‘normal.’ For god’s sake, we had devils chasing our tails and giant squid people trying to take over the world! Normal isn’t achievable for anyone nowadays.” He laughed softly, and though you knew in some part of you that he was right, it wasn’t the answer you wanted.

You pulled your face from his hand, looking back out through the window with your brows furrowed. You could hardly be mad at him for his sensible response, but you wanted more out of his answer.

Yes, logically, there was and never had been a ‘normal’. But it was the concept of normalcy that eased your mind at night. Knowing your daily routine would flow like usual, the baker would always have a fresh loaf for you in exchange for the three potions you prepped the night before (which you’d made in advance with the items you gathered that day on your way to check on your shop. Because of course, you had a shop!), that the librarian would have your books already set aside for you, and the blacksmith would have finished your newly commissioned dagger. Normal wasn’t even the right word for it anymore, it was the routine that kept you going.

“I understand that, Gale.” You replied, unusually cold to be speaking with him. Okay, maybe you were a little mad at him for his response. You knew he meant well, but, still.

“Ouch.” He frowned slightly, lowering his hands from you as he leaned against the frame of the window, his eyes trailing to watch the lights dancing in each home. “What troubles your heart, my love? Be honest with me, not angry.”

“Sorry..” You mumbled as you saw how you hurt him. You took a breath, ran a hand through your hair, and sighed out once more. “It’s just,” you stepped away from the window, gesturing as you tried to put your thoughts together, “before everything, the tadpoles and the mindflayers and the threat of constant death and before everything, I, you, we had lives, right? We both had family or friends we took care of, or a routine we’d settled into after years of careful planning, we had regulars or were regulars, we owned ourselves and our actions for who they were in their entirety, right?”

Gale nodded, allowing you to continue in your rambles. He had to admit he found it quite adorable the faces you made while deep in thought, though he wouldn’t say that aloud right now.

“Why is it so different now? It haunts me knowing I’m just.. supposed to find that all over again. Do that all over again. Everything has changed and yet nothing at all and I’m just supposed to figure it out? Like that? Why can’t things go back to the way they were, and why does it hurt so much knowing it will never be the same?” You asked, your voice cracking towards the end as piles of pain, guilt and fear washed over you.

“Oh, sweetheart..” Gale’s voice grounded you. His soft inflection of a pet name you adored brought you back to him, his arms open as you collapsed into him.

“I’m just so tired… and I can’t even find it in me to rest like this..” You added, allowing him to wrap his strong arms around you. You practically melted into him, despite still being so tense from your emotions.

“I didn’t know how troubled this was making you, my love.” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, holding you tight in his arms. “How long have you been feeling like this, darling?” He asked, pulling back slightly to look down at your face.

You sniffled softly, tears slowly forming in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You had kept it in for so long that the feeling of not feeling normal had, well, become normal. Letting it out was like dropping three smoke powder barrels down after carrying them from the goblin camp to Ethel’s teahouse because who knew when you might need them.

“A while..”

Gale sighed at your response, pulling back to sit down on the ledge of the window. He pulled you towards him and stood you between his legs, looking up at you with eyes full of worry and love. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles. “Y/n…” he started, grabbing your attention.

“You’re never going to get that back or find it again if you don’t communicate with me how you’re feeling. I’ve read thousands of books by all the wisest men in the world and yet I still can’t read your mind,” He paused, pursing his lips, “Well, I can, technically speaking. I choose not to. But that’s beside the point here.” He shook his head slightly at his diversion to the subject at hand.

“The point is, my love, I can’t help you, or us, gain or retain any sense of a normal routine if aren’t talking to me about it. It’s not easy by any means, and I don’t blame you for having your reservations about trying to find that again. Neither one of us is the same as how we started before all of this, too. You know that, yes?”

You nodded your head, using that as your response instead of verbally replying. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as he spoke and you began to realize the true size of this issue.

“Instead of trying to go backward in time, can we agree to move forward together? Tell me, my love, what do you want for us?” He asked, reaching a hand up to your face and wiping a few tears away.

“I don’t… I want..” You had to think about it for a moment— what did you want with him? You never thought you’d get this far, especially since he was supposed to, you know, explode into a giant magical ball of energy (or however he explained it, you never understood that whole thing). And now here you were with him, all threats in your life gone and with the possibility to start anew, not over.

“I want us… I want... I want you. I want to start a life together with you.” You finally replied, sniffling and leaning into his touch.

The moonlight danced across the tears on your face, causing them to glisten and sparkle. Despite the high emotions, Gale couldn’t help in thinking about how pretty you looked at that moment.

“Then let’s start a life together.” He replied instantaneously, nodding his head in agreement with you. He dropped his hand from your cheek to your chin, lowering your head to look at him. “Let’s start a life together and have a million little children and a million Tressyms and—“

You cut him off with your laughter, shaking your head as he went on. Your soft laughs died into giggles and you found yourself leaning down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What? I’m being serious!” He gasped at your audacity to laugh at the idea of a million miniature Gale’s running around creating Tressyms. His gasp quickly shifted into his signature low chuckle, his arms slipping around your waist while he tugged you into his lap.

“A million children, Gale?” You asked, laughing still as you looked back at him, shaking your head.

“Oh, you’re right. A million and one. Just in case.” He joked, leaning in to rub his nose against yours.

“That’s better..” you giggled, leaning into him as your anxieties washed away. Every day you were more and more thankful that you had him by your side.

“Y/n…” He said softly, looking into your eyes.

“Mhm?” You hummed, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes were focused on his for a moment, then his lips, then his eyes again.

“Promise me you’ll be more open as we go through this together, my love.” His face was serious, and you were forced to focus on him entirely and not the overwhelming desire to kiss him right there.

“I promise.”

“Good.” His serious expression shifted to that trademark grin as he leaned into you, brushing his lips against yours before finally pressing them together. You, of course, returned the kiss with as much gentleness as he had put into it.

It wasn’t long until you were back in bed with him, a weight taken off your shoulders. You were still anxious, of course, but for a different reason this time. Not because you had to figure out how to parent a million children— but because you had a whole future ahead of you with someone who truly, unconditionally loved you and would always be there for you.

You finally drifted off to sleep, comfortably nestled in the arms of your lover. You found yourself dreaming of the life you’d have, no longer pressured by fitting into a mold that stopped fitting you long ago. It was time to create your own mold to grow into, and you knew Gale would be right by your side to help you do that.

[jpmarvel90]

Sacrifice

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 5148

Relationship: Sister Nat & Sister Yelena x Reader Wanda x Reader

Summary: Y/n has been haunted since she watched Natasha fall to her death on Vormir. Her own grief is only intensified when Yelena finds out and shifts blame to the one person that wished it was her who had made the ultimate sacrifce.

Y/n's POV:

Coming home from Vormir without Nat was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. Seeing our sister Yelena's reaction added to the pain that I was already feeling. When Clint, Nat and I arrived at Vormir, none of us thought we'd be leaving as a duo. As soon as the realisation hit, I knew it had to be me. Clint had a family and the world needed Natasha. I was the obvious choice.

But Nat had other ideas. She had to be the hero. Whilst her and Clint were fighting, I took the opportunity to go myself. But Nat stopped me at the last minute. My feet were off the ground as I jumped, I was content with my decision. But my stubborn sister had to be the hero. She was able to grab me at the last minute and use her strength to switch our position.

I still had a hold on her hand, but she was out of reach from Clint, so it was reliant on me to be able to pull her up. That was made even more difficult by the fact that Nat didn't even try. My eyes were filled with tears when I realised that I wouldn't be able to save her. "You can't leave us. Yelena needs you. I need you!" I begged her, a sob getting caught in my throat. "It's ok. You'll be ok." She tells me but I shake my head, tears continuing to fall. I try once again with all my strength to pull her back up. "Let me go." She whispers before kicking off the wall. I can still see her body falling as I failed to save her. The world lost a hero that day and Yelena and I lost our sister.

It never should have been Nat. She was the true hero that carried on fighting when so many gave up after the snap. She gave her life to rectifying the wrongs she was forced to do whilst in the Red Room. Her ledger was already clean, and she deserved the chance to be able to have a normal life. To not have to fight any more.

After the battle was over, we were reunited with our family and friends that we had lost five years ago. I hadn't only lost Yelena, but my girlfriend Wanda too. It had been hell, and it was the reason I stuck by Natasha and worked tirelessly with her to find a way to bring everyone back.

However, telling them both the news was almost as devastating as the moment I saw Nat die. Yelena was angry and couldn't understand it. Wanda was devastated too. Nat had been like a sister to her when she first joined the Avengers. She was hurting too. I tried to be there for them as best I could. I was still grieving myself, but I knew I had to be there for my sister and girlfriend.

It was hard as they both started to withdraw, spending more time together. They had a shared experience and found comfort in each other. I started to feel like an outsider and my relationship with Wanda was slowly becoming more distanced. Yelena rarely spoke to me. Until she uttered the most devastating words at Nat's funeral. "It should have been you." There was a venom to her words and I could see that Wanda agreed. It made everything more painful as they were true. It should have been me. No one needed me. But Natasha Romanoff, everyone needed her.

Life at the compound become more difficult by the day. Those of us left signed to work with the government to keep the world safe from another situation like Thanos. There were rumblings that Hydra had resurrected, so most of our missions focused on wiping out anyone who posed a threat.

During this, my relationship with Yelena became non-existent. Any words said in my direction were said with hate. It got so bad that Fury could no longer put us on the same missions as he couldn't guarantee my safety from my own teammate, my own sister.

Wanda never officially broke up with me, but she moved out of our shared room and no longer spared any time for me. If I walked into a room, she was quick to leave. The love we once had seemed to have vanished when Nat died. Each day, it just reiterated why it should have been me.

So, I decided that I had to find a way that I could bring Nat back. No matter what the consequences might be. I spend a lot of time in the library working out if there was anything I could do that might be able to make everything right again. Though one phrase keeps coming up. "A soul for a soul." It's what's the Red Skull had told us when we were on Vormir, could that be a replacement for a soul already sacrificed.

I decide that's where I need to start. A trip back to Vormir and a conversation with the Red Skull will hopefully set me off on the way to bringing Nat back. I just need a distraction for everyone here so I can "borrow" a quinjet and make the journey. "Hey Y/n, we're going to have a team evening together. Maybe go for a couple of drinks, want to join us?" Bucky calls out after knocking on my door.

"Are Yelena and Wanda going?" I ask as I open the door. He looks at me sympathetically and nods. The rest of the team have been a little distant with me too. Not that I blame them. They're closer to Yelena and Wanda so I don't expect them to insert themselves into the middle of whatever shit show of a relationship we have.

"I'll give it a miss tonight. Thanks, though Buck. Have a great time." I tell him with a tight lipped smile. "You ok Y/n?" He asks me, taking me by surprise. "Oh yeah. I'm good. Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it." I respond. He nods and goes to turn before stopping and looking back. "How about on Friday, you me and Sam all go out together. Make a night of it. I know you've been a little isolated recently. I'm sorry for that." He suggests. "Oh uh. Thanks Bucky, sure that would great." I agree and I see him smile. "Great, we'll sort something out." He smiles and heads off.

This gives me the perfect opportunity. If they're all out, I can start to bring my sister back. I take a bit of time getting everything in order just in case I don't come back. I leave a message for Nat, hopeful that she might be able to see it one day. I considered leaving one for Yelena and Wanda, but they won't care. They'll be happy that the right person is with them.

I hear them all leave about 6pm so I gather a few of my things and head out. One of the few skills I'm grateful for from the red room is my hacking ability. Hopefully, by the time Shield realise the jet is missing, I'll be long gone. I'm weirdly not nervous as I board the quinjet. I feel a sense of hope. I know this is the right thing to do and I just pray that I'll be able to pull this off.

When I finally reach my destination, I take the familiar walk up to the top of the cliff. I get flashbacks of the last time I was here. The last time I was with my sister. I can still hear the conversations we had as I reach the top. I familiar figure waiting for me.

I take a deep breath and make my way forward as the figure turns to face me. "Ah, Y/n Y/l/n, I wondered when I would see you again."

Wanda's POV:

This night out with the team was much needed. Since everything with Thanos, it's been difficult to find the light. We lost a lot and we're still healing. I was surprised when I felt a pang of disappointment when Bucky came to us without Y/n in tow. Not that I'm surprised, we've not exactly made a welcoming space.

I especially have been bad with her. She's my girlfriend after all, but I just let my grief consume me. Add on the confusion of missing out on five years of life, it's just been difficult to make sense of it all. Yelena was the only one who knew how I felt and it was easier to be with her than Y/n.

But now I realise what I'm missing. The support and comfort of the woman that I love. I was stupid to let myself become influenced by Yelena. I started to feel her anger, but mine wasn't directed at Y/n. It was the situation. It just became my outlet as I had nowhere else to direct it. Which is completely unfair on Y/n. She was grieving herself and lost Yelena and me on top of it.

"I'm going to check on Y/n." Bucky tells us when we arrive home, earning a huff from Yelena. "Why do you care?" She snaps. "Because she has become isolated and it's not fair. I shouldn't have let it go on for so long." He defends. "Maybe she deserves it! If it wasn't for her, Natasha would be here." Yelena bites back. "ENOUGH!" Clint shouts, stepping in front of Yelena.

"I promised Y/n I wouldn't get involved, but I can't stand here anymore and let you talk like this. Y/n tried everything to save Nat. She had to watch as she slipped from her fingers after doing everything for it to be her. Y/n had wanted to make the sacrifice herself. So please just stop. If you don't want to be around her or have her in your life, fine. But this bitching needs to stop." He scolds the young Russian. Yelena doesn't respond but lets her head hang low for a moment. "I'll join you Bucky." Clint responds, following behind Bucky.

I should go with them. But when I take a step, Yelena looks to me. "I need more vodka." She huffs, taking my arm and moving us into the kitchen to get a drink. But before she's able to drink the shot she's poured, FRIDAY makes an announcement. "Director Fury has request everyone's attention in the conference room immediately."

"Cyka." Yelena huffs, quickly taking the shot and making her way to the meeting room. I follow behind and see Bucky and Clint return but without Y/n. I don't question it, instead I take a seat next to Yelena. "Would one of you like to explain where the quinjet is?" He asks, his tone flat. "No idea. We've all been out for a team meal." Sam explains. "Was Y/l/n at this meal?" Fury asks after noticing her absence.

The silence provides his answer. "That would explain the encryption on the tracking." Fury sighs. "Wait, you think Y/n has taken the jet?" Clint asks, giving Bucky a worrying look. "Well, considering she's the only one not here and only two people in this team have that ability to hack the quinjet like that." He responds and we all know the other is Yelena.

"This is not good. Do you think she's actually done it? That she found away?" Clint whispers to Bucky who matches his concerned look. "Do you know where the jet was heading?" Clint directs to Fury who shakes his head. "No, she's hidden the location." He replies. "Shit." Clint mumbles. "Something you'd like to share?" Fury questions him. Clint doesn't respond but pushes a piece of paper towards him.

Fury takes it and I see a sadness flash across his face. My heart rate picks up a little and the regret of how I have treated Y/n these last week's grows tenfold. I selfishly thought she would always be there waiting for me for when I was able to get passed this grief.

"Ok, let's go. Hopefully we can catch her before she does something stupid." Fury moves to leave with no explanation. "Would someone like to explain what is going on?" Yelena asks angrily. "Considering you haven't cared about Y/n's wellbeing recently, I'm sure you don't care now." Clint snaps and I see a flash of hurt on Yelena's face. "We don't have time for this." Bucky steps in, bringing the focus back to the situation at hand.

Mindlessly, I follow behind the others towards the quinjet. I have no idea what's going on, but from the panic in both Clint and Bucky's eyes, I know it can't be good. "You're going?" Yelena reaches out to grab my arm and spin me around. "You're not? She's your sister Yelena. I know you're angry at her, but it seems like you might lose her too. It's a loss I know that I won't cope with." I respond, snatching my arm from her and running to the jet.

"Co-ordinates set to Vormir." Clint tells Fury as the jet takes off. Hearing those words sends fear through my body. Why would she be going there? This fear and sickening feeling just grows as we get closer to our destination. The rest of the journey is in silence before the jet touches down.

Cautiously we all disembark and my eyes instantly land on the quinjet a few metres away. "This way." Clint instructs, directing us towards a worn path up to the top of a cliff. As quickly as we can, we start off to reach our destination. Though I don't think any of us expected the sight that was waiting for us.

In this moment, I feel like my heart is in my mouth. My emotions overwhelm me as I see the person that I had been grieving for. "Natasha?" Yelena whispers in shock as our eyes land on a familiar red head in front of us. I wipe at my own eyes, not believing what I'm seeing in front of us. Nat turns around with a confused look on her face as she looks over us. "You're really here?" Yelena says as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around her sister.

My own gaze then moves around trying to find Y/n. She has to be around here somewhere. "What happened? How am I here?" Nat asks once we've all greeted her, plenty of tears shed between us. That's when I notice the sadness in Clint and Bucky's eyes. "Clint?" I ask, panic building within. All he can muster is a whisperer sentence. "A soul for a soul."

Natasha's POV:

The last thing I remember was being in this odd space between reality and wherever I was due to move onto next. I was aware I was dead, and it seemed like I was just waiting. For what, I'm not sure. But I certainly hadn't expected that I would find myself back on Vormir. I knew time had passed. I just don't know how much time.

I look over the edge of the cliff as flashbacks from that day replay in my mind. I jumped. I stopped Y/n from doing it and I jumped in her place. I died, making the sacrifice so we could get the soul stone and beat Thanos. Had we beat Thanos?

I don't get time to really take it all in as I hear footsteps behind me. I quickly turn, getting in my fighting stance ready for whatever might be coming my way. However, my question is soon answered when I see two faces that I've not see in five years. Within seconds Yelena has wrapped her arms around me and is holding me close. I take comfort in her arms and look around for our other sister, desperate to hold her too.

After greeting everyone, I ask what had happened and that seems to bring a sadness to Fury, Bucky and Clint. When Wanda pushes Clint, he simply states, "A soul for a soul." I don't understand what he means, we already did that to get the soul stone in the first place. "What do you mean? Where's Y/n? Is she back at the compound?" I ask, not getting a good feeling about my sister not being here for this reunion.

"Let's get back home and we can share what we know." Clint suggests, guiding us back towards the path. Yelena and Wanda both stick close to me. Yelena seems delighted, but Wanda has a darkness around her. A worry that I don't understand. But I fear it is related to Y/n. "How long has it been?" I ask, wanting to get some sense of the time that has passed. "Three months." Yelena responds. "It felt like we had only been gone for seconds but in that time, I had lost you." She adds on, turning to me and pulling me into a hug once again. I've never seen Yelena this vulnerable before, so I just hold her that bit tighter.

When we reach the quinjet, I notice that there are two which takes me by surprise. "I'll take this one back. Then we'll meet to discuss moving forward." Fury explains, to which Bucky nods. "Not that I'm complaining, but is anyone going to explain how I'm back?" I ask, getting a little frustrated. They all look at each other until Clint speaks up. "We actually have no idea, but we think it has something to do with Y/n." He responds, before turning to enter the jet, preventing me from questioning him further.

My mind is so confused right now. It still feels a little hazy as we fly back to the compound. I have so many questions and I can't quite make sense of what is happening right now. As grateful as I am to be with my family again, I want to understand why. Is this temporary? Will I end up back in the middle place again?

When we arrive back home, I aimlessly follow the others to the conference room. "You go and rest Natasha, we'll give you any updates as needed." Yelena instructs me but I shake my head. "I want to know how this has all happened, especially if it's got something to do with Y/n." I reply, continuing on my journey with the others. I hear Yelena mumble something under her breath and she doesn't look too happy, but ultimately doesn't stop me.

I take my usual seat in the conference room, and I realise that the others are in a state of shock. They are all staring at me as if I'm going to disappear at any moment. "Where's Steve and Tony?" I ask, noticing two very empty spaces in the room. They take the time to talk me through what happened after they returned with all the stones. Knowing that Tony sacrificed himself for the greater good brought a tear to my eye. But I'm grateful that Steve was able to get his second chance with Peggy.

Now we come on to the more difficult conversation of how I happen to be back on earth, very much alive. "Bucky and I went to check on Y/n but she didn't answer. FRIDAY notified us she had left the compound but that she had blocked her location. With the door unlocked we went in and that's when we found that note." Clint explains as Fury nods along. "That would work with the timeline of the quinjet going missing. She obviously waited for you all to be out of the compound so she could do what she needed uninterrupted." Fury responds.

"What note?" I jump in, still confused about what is going on. Did Y/n really steal a quinjet? Why would she do that? Fury moved his hand into his inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a note before handing it to me. I open it up and I feel both Wanda and Yelena peer over my shoulder.

Maybe this time I can make things right. I'll make sure it was me. Take care of Nat.

I look up from the note to the others. Wanda is full on crying when she sees the words on the paper. Yelena won't make eye contact whilst both Bucky, Clint and Sam look like they're grieving. "What does this mean? What does she mean by making sure it was her." I question, wanting to get some semblance of what is going on. This looks like a suicide note.

I start to get frustrated when no one answers me. In fact, they all make the effort to not meet my eyes. "Someone tell me!" I shout, banging my hand to the table making them flinch. "Yelena?" Clint speaks, raising an eyebrow at her. I turn to face my sister who looks as white as a ghost. "Lena, what is going on?" I ask calmly, but again she doesn't respond.

"Her and Wanda have spent the last three months telling Y/n that it should have been her and not you. I guess she finally found a way to make that true" Bucky finally breaks the silence and my heart with it. "What?" I gasp, turning to look between the two of them. "Did you really say that to her?" I ask, shocked that Yelena could do something so horrible to Y/n. They've always been so close.

When both of them fail to respond, I stand up ready to leave. I can't believe this. "Natasha wait." Fury tries to stop me. "No! From what I can work out, these two pushed Y/n so far that she has killed herself to bring me back. That's what you're telling me without actually telling me isn't it." I snap, tears filling my eyes. "We don't know exactly what happened." Fury responds but I just scoff. "She stole a quinjet and flew to Vormir. You found me and Y/n was nowhere to be seen. I think we all know what happened." I retort.

Quickly turning to face Yelena and Wanda, I feel my anger build. "I'm so angry at you. It was my choice! I decided it had to be me. I had my chance at living and making things right. Y/n still had so much of her life ahead of her. She was in there longer than us Yelena. She had you, Wanda and she was happy. I couldn't take that away from her or you! I made the decision to jump because I thought that if it was Y/n, you'd be left without a girlfriend and you your favourite sister." I yell, jabbing my finger in the direction of Wanda and Yelena.

"Fuck! It was my choice! It was meant to be me. But now I hear that she's spent the last three months without anyone whilst she went through grief, being told it was her fault and she should have died. Her last three months were probably miserable, and you can't change that. She's gone. Y/n is dead. Do you realise that? She's not going to magically rematerialize. And it's all your fault!" I rant, anger and an overwhelming sadness taking over me.

At my words, I see the realisation hit Yelena and Wanda. Tears start to fall down their cheeks. "I jumped so she could have the life you promised me she would have. A life where she would be loved and protected. A life where you would never hurt her. But it couldn't be any further from the truth!" I spit at Wanda, venom lacing my tone.

"And you. How can you even treat our sister like that. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive you." I turn to Yelena, my heart aching knowing I've lost two sisters today. Not allowing them time to respond, I storm off to what used to be my room. Ignoring the calls from behind me.

When I reach the accommodation floor, I find myself stuck outside Y/n's door. My hand hovering over the handle. There is a part of me that is wishing this is some sick joke and I'll open this door to see her sat on her bed, drawing, or listening to music. That she'll actually be alive, and I won't have to face living in this world without my sister. The sister that gave me my humanity.

Slowly I push the door open, and I instantly get enveloped by her scent. Tears once again prickle at my eyes when I see the cold room is empty. Wanting to feel closer to her, I move further into the room and towards her desk where I spot a USB sat on an otherwise spotless desk.

Pulling her desk chair out, I sit and turn on her laptop. Letting out a teary laugh when I see the photo of her, Yelena, and I when we were drunk on a night out. We look the happiest we've ever been. It was one of the first times we'd been able to just forget about life all together and this photo represented that. I reach out and rest my fingers over her face. "Oh, moya malen'kaya sestra. (My little sister) I'm sorry I failed you." I cry as the thought of not seeing her again hits me.

Composing myself, I plug in the USB and open it to see there is only one file on it. A video file entitled "For Natasha." Hesitantly, I click on the file and let out a sob when I see Y/n's face appear on the screen. Straight away I notice that she's barely slept and there is a pain in her eyes I have not seen since we saved her from the red room.

Video message

Hey Nat. I really hope that you are watching this. If you are, it means that I finally did something right and managed to rectify the mistake that I made that day on Vormir. I never should have let you jump.

You see, the thing is about you Natasha, is you don't see your worth. You believe the trauma that you went through as a child is something that you must atone for, for the rest of your life. Despite telling Yelena, me and countless other widows how our actions were not our fault, you failed to allow yourself the same courtesy.

Since joining Shield and then the Avengers, you have done far more good than you ever did bad. Not that you had anything to make up for in life. You had every right to live a normal life, to try and move on from the horrors of your past. But instead, you set your mind to saving others who couldn't save themselves.

Don't tell the others, but you were the true hero of the Avengers. Your intentions were the purest. You were not blinded by money, fame, or righteousness. You were doing everything you could to try and drive out evil from this world. To stop others having to experience a pain like you did.

It's why I decided to jump. Why it should have been me that made that sacrifice. You had already given enough. It was your time to live your life in peace. If you had chosen to carry on your life as an Avenger, then so be it. But it would have been your choice.

The world needs Natasha Romanoff. Yelena, Clint, Shield, hell even my girlfriend, needed you more than me. It's why you never should have given your life that day. It's why I was the logical choice. The only choice.

Yes, hearing that being reiterated by people I love has been hard to hear these last few months. But it's the truth. It's why I tried so hard to find away that I could rectify that mistake and make the world right again. I think I finally have that answer now. A way that I might be able to bring you back. I pray that this works and maybe Yelena and Wanda can stop hating me. Not that I'll know, I guess.

I know that everyone will be able to move one without me in their lives. But you, well we know the world deserves and needs Natasha Romanoff. I just hope that I'm able to give it to them.

If you are sat watching this Nat. Please know how much I love you. You are the reason that I experienced freedom and free will for the first time. You gave me a family, a chance at love. All things that I thought I would never experience. You saved me in more ways than one and I will always be eternally grateful for that.

Being able to call you my sister has been the greatest honour Nat. I love you with everything I have, and I hope that one day, we may see each other again. In a life where there are no expectations of us. A life where we're free to live as we want. But before that time, live your life to the fullest. Enjoy it and have a vodka for me. Ya tebya lyublyu, moya sestra. Do svidaniya. (I love you, my sister. Goodbye.)

I feel the sobs wrack over me as the screen goes black. I feel grief wash over me in waves. It physically hurts to know that she sacrificed herself for me. For her to believe that this world needs me more than it needed her. She is a light that shone brighter than anyone I had ever met. But now that light is extinguished.

With my grief overwhelming me, I feel the sudden need to leave her room. Being surrounded by her things, knowing she'll never be here again is just adding to the pain. As I stand and turn around, I spot Wanda and Yelena crying in the doorway, clearly having overheard the video.

"Natash..." "Don't." I hold my hand up to stop Wanda straight away. "She needed you. Both of you. But you were selfish and put your own grief above hers. You could have supported each other. Grieved together, moved on together and had a life together. But instead, everything is ruined." I express, pain lacing my voice.

"Natasha please." Yelena practically begs, reaching out to take my hand but I'm quick to snatch it away. "No. As far as I'm concerned, I lost two sisters today." I state before barging past them both and to my own room. Quickly locking the door behind me.

I fall onto the bed, the whole day becoming overwhelming. I don't know where to go from here. How do I live a life that doesn't have her in it. How am I supposed to live like she told me to, when I can't share it with her. I feel at a complete loss. Of all the things I have sacrificed, my own life included, this was one I was too selfish to give. But have ended up losing anyway. 

[barefoothighlander]

Hey hey heyy! First of all your writing is so good! Fr teach me.

Second of all I'd love some Graves smut, something to do with proper hate sex as in enemies to ??, maybe some violence with it. Other than that you can do what you want.

Ily<3

thank u babe, also super random but I just found out the actor for graves is also jeff in yellowjacket’s and now all I picture is graves sitting in his car jamming to papa roach

warnings: mdni (18+), smut, unprotected pinv, slight dub con, choking, fingering, orgasm denial, name calling, description of wounds, mention of blood, dom!graves, slight voyeurism, creampie, mention of alcohol, not proofread

Your skin is freezing, the rain soaking your clothes, mixing with the blood dripping from the wound on your arm as you struggle to stay up. Something about him was always off, it wasn’t often the 141 worked with outsiders but you needed to trust the Shadow company, you needed to trust Graves.

You followed his orders, seeking his protection when hostile got too close, he’d saved your life on more than one account during the mission but you always kept an eye on him.

Unfortunately your suspicions were right, he had betrayed the team on behalf of Shepard, and now you were lost in the streets of Mexico with too much blood lost.

You crept through alleys, calling through your comms to Soap and Ghost, trying to find a way out when the Shadows were lurking around every corner, gunshots ringing through your ears as you slam your body against a wall trying to stay out of sight.

The dark provided decent cover, allowing you to sneak through old shops and houses, trying to find materials to help you but the feeling of your body growing weaker did little to add to your success, having to brace yourself against tables and walls just to catch your breath.

Time was running out, you knew where Ghost was but you didn’t know how to get there, between the labyrinth of streets and the threat of the Shadows, they had you stuck with no where to go.

“You lost little bird?”

His cocky tone pierces your ears, you don’t have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to, your whole world crumbling in front of you as you look for an escape route.

“No where to run”

He moves closer towards you, caging your body between him and the wall as panic sets into your body. You turn your body and brave your arms, ready to fight but he grabs your wrists, pushing your body back against the wall and pinning you there, you wince at the action, the angle of your arm pinching your wound.

“Looks like somebody clipped your wings” He smirks, his tone is deep,

“Fuck off” You spit, writhing under his grip

“We could’ve been a team you know, there would’ve been a place for you in the company”

“And be forced to take orders from you? I’d rather die”

“Tsk, kinda seemed like you enjoyed taking orders from me”

You furrow your brows at his comment, one drunken mistake made weeks ago coming back to haunt you. You had gone out drinking with the team and he tagged along, a few too many shots and you wound up in his bed, panting under his touch.

“Get the fuck off me Graves”

“I love the way you say my name” His hands release yours, moving to your waist to turn your body, pinning your chest against the wall as you whimper in pain.

“Now I wanna hear you scream it” His voice is husky, laced with anger as his lips travel over your exposed skin, tracing your limbs. The warmth of him feels too good, your shivering body moulded against his chest as his fingers trace over the hem of your pants.

His hands snake under your shirt, kneading at your breasts as you let out a small sigh, the goosebumps on your skin depleting with every touch.

“Hate me all you want, I know what you need”

“Let me go”

“Ask nicely” He grins against your neck as his fingers pinch your nipples, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Fuck you”

He grinds his length against your backside, the firm press of him igniting your core as you curse yourself.

“If that’s what you want baby”

He moves a hand down your stomach, pushing back the hem of your pants to cup your sex, his fingers teasing over your panties as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’re soaked, knew you needed me, little slut”

His fingers pushed your panties to the side, teasing through your folds as he gathers your slick before pushing two digits inside you. Moaning from the contact he lets out a low chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your moans.

He pumps his fingers into you, his thumb settling on your clit to run circles over the bud, you struggle to brace your arms against the wall, your hips arching into him as you grind down onto his hand, chasing your high.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers”

Your teeth pierce your lip as you bite down, the taste of iron filling your mouth as the coil inside you burns, your mind a flurry of lust as your orgasm approaches.

He pumps his fingers harder, curving them to swipe across your sweet spot over and over, you throw you head back as the band inside you threatens to snap but as soon as you reach your peak he rips his hand from you. You’re breathless, panting as you stare back at him,

“Wha- no” You plead

“You wanna run? Go now” He steps back a few paces, giving you room to move, your skin is on fire, clenching around nothing as your high fades from your core, he wants you to beg. Your gaze shifts between the door and him, his dark eyes staring back at you, his hand glistening in the light, covered in your slick.

You don’t move, don’t say anything, your fingers toy with your belt buckle, undoing it and he smirks, closing the gap between you.

“Good choice”

His hand is firm on your back as he presses you against the wall again, his arm moving your grip around your waist, holding you up as your limbs become unsteady. He pulls your pants below your ass, giving him enough access to feel your weeping cunt, grinding his clothed length against it and feeling you shudder from the contact, the rough denim swiping against your core, sending shocks up your spine.

“Better stay quiet, unless you want the entire company to take turns”

His threats are empty but they still make your blood run cold, the noise of his own belt clattering as he presses his chest against you, running his tip through your folds. He smears your slick around your cunt, quiet sighs falling from your mouth as you feel how hard he is.

He leans back from you, lining himself up as his free hand finds purchase on the side of your face, pushing it against the cold wall, keeping you pinned. He bottoms out in a single thrust, forcing the air from your lungs as you gasp as the stretch, the arm on your waist moving so he can rest his fingers against your clit, keeping them still against the bud to tease you.

He pounds into you, forcing every inch of himself inside with every thrust as you moan, your mind a blur, the idea of anyone hearing long gone as his tip drags against your walls.

“That’s it, take it, take it all you fucking slut”

He grunts behind you, his balls slapping against your skin with every thrust, the sound of the rain outside the only thing keeping prying ears from knowing what was happening as you unravel under his touch.

The hand on your head moves to snake around your neck, the inside of his elbow settling under your chin as he pulls you against him, your back arching as he presses your spine to his chest. His cock hits deeper from this angle, your body exposed to him as his grunts fill your ears.

You reach for him but he grabs your wrist, a low growl leaving his chest when his thumb presses into the bullet wound in your arm, forcing a cry from you as you clench down on him.

“See what you made me do, didn’t have to run from me” He presses harder into the wound, droplets of blood cascading down your skin, smearing onto him as you sob around his cock.

“Fuck. You” You manage through gritted teeth, your hand finding it’s way to his head, tugging on his hair as he lets out a grunt, thrusting harder into you.

“You bite back, always liked that about you”

You open your mouth to speak but words escape you as he grips your wrist, pulling it towards your sex and forcing your fingers to toy with your clit.

“Show me how much you need to cum, how good my cock feels inside your little pussy”

You trace circles with your weak fingers, quiet whimpers from your lips boost his ego as the feeling of your fingers is nothing compared to his.

“Poor slut, you need me to do it?”

You give a tug to his hair, silent begs as your fingers continue to work lazy circles over the bud.

“Beg for it, beg me to make you cum”

“Eat shit”

“I guess only one of us gets to finish then”

He sobbed your body forward, your hands slow to catch you against the wall, his grips your waist with bruising fingers, digging into the flesh as he thrusts into you. Your knees are weak, your arms heavy against the wall as you struggle to stay up, you need more, more of him.

“Beg for it”

His thirsts push you further into the wall, your aching fingers scraping against the stone,

“Please” You whisper

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you”

Your body admits defeat before your mind does, pushing back against him so his tip prods at your cervix, forcing him deeper into you,

“Please”

“Please what? Use your words”

“Please, let me cum!” Tears prick your eyes, your orgasm building inside of you at an agonizing pace.

“Then soak my cock you fucking slut”

His fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the bud as you cry out, your hips working in tandem with his thrusts to chase your high.

He leans over your frame, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his hand grips around your throat, his fingers squeezing against your pulse point.

“Cum for me, show me how much you need my cock” He whispers in your ears, the words shooting straight to your core, the fire inside your searing your skin as you cum with a sob, clenching down on him as he fucks you, keeping his harsh pace. His fingers stay on your clit, not letting you come down, he forces you to ride out your orgasm at his brutal pace, his skin smacking against yours as his cock stuffs you.

Your vision blurs, a mixture of blood loss and the overstimulation of him has you seeing stars, every sound drowned out except for his moans behind you.

“M’gonna fill this fucking pussy, send you back with a reminder of who you belong to”

Your tears stain your cheeks, your throat dry and unable to respond as his thrusts become sloppy, chasing his own high.

“You want that? Wanna walk around with my cum stuffed inside you, you fucking traitor bitch” He spits, his words ringing in your ears as he bottoms out, pressing his cock deep inside your walls as his spend floods them, filling you with the warm liquid.

Your body goes limp against the wall, his arms the only thing holding you up as he milks himself in your pussy, thrusting his softening cock to make sure it stays deep before pulling out.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his grip on your waist keeping you balanced as he helps you to lean on a table, kneeling to pull your own pants back up.

He scans the room, moving to grab a small cloth before tearing it, wrapping it around your wound to help stop the bleeding. You stare at him with hooded eyes, the toll on your body evident in the way you hunch over, arms braced to keep yourself steady.

“I meant it, there would’ve been a spot for you” His tone is sincere as you gaze at him, his hair sticking to his forehead in a mix of sweat and rain drops, he reaches around his vest, pulling out a small canteen of water and handing it to you, you take it, chugging its contents before gasping for a breath.

“I’d never betray my team”

“You already did”

His words shoot through your heart, it was true in a sense, even if he wasn’t the enemy the first time, it didn’t take away from the fact that you had just fucked him in a dirty old house while he was hunting you and your team.

“Go”

You furrow your brows at him, “What?”

“Leave before I change my mind, if I catch you again it won’t end as well”

You take a moment to scan his face, he’s being sincere, you stand quickly, trying to catch your balance before sparing him a final glance and rushing through the door back into the rain, glancing down streets to try and find a way out.

“Deadeye do you copy” Ghosts voice echoes through your comms, pulling you back to reality.

“I copy”

“Jesus Christ, where are you?” His voice is laced in panic

“Coming LT” The lights of the Church stare back at you through the heavy down pour, lighting your path as you make your way to your team.

[kurogxrix]

When The Time Comes ( II. )

⇀ ( I. ) ( III. )

Sully family x Sully!reader, oc x Sully!reader

IN WHICH the humans come for your father’s neck again, as you and your family fight alongside him. When the sky people come back to destroy Pandora again, will you be able to save your family and potential lover?

Warnings: Angst, desc of war, fighting & blood, CRINGE

WC: 7.5k

A/N : I forgot that they lived in the high camp…. so the start makes no sense but do we really care.

⇀

Upon entering the village, you were met with the sight of your anxiously pacing father. Your fingers were still intertwined with Mo’rata’s as the both of you came to a halt. Your mother’s piercing eyes glared at your hands, nodding her head at the man in a subtle threat.

Normally you would’ve been laughing either at her behaviour or at the boy for being a victim of her menace. Though you were mature enough to realise that now was not the time. You wouldn’t admit it to no one, but you were almost just as scared as concerned. The lights that you had spotted soaring through the sky earlier most definitely did not belong here.

Mo’rata began walking forward, dragging you alongside him as he approached your father. At the sight of your unmoving form, he knew that he had to do the first move.

You had seen something down there in the forest, something that he had not seen himself and you had to inform your father before it became a potential bigger threat. Jake approached you alongside Neytiri, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked like he was going to scold you for leaving the village without his permission once more.

“Sir, we have been warned in the forest that bad things are coming for us,” you informed your father, a similar look on your face as you spoke to him. Jake paused before you as he thought back at what Mo’at had told him a few moments prior. The Tsahik herself had told Jake that she had been receiving visions, warnings by Eywa herself. Now having you warn him too was like a green light to inaugurating a war.

Attacks from the sky people were not rare. In fact, they were so frequent and effortless to terminate that they did not even require that big of a warriors group. This time, there were way too many warnings to ignore. The clan always lived in an unspoken fear that another war like the first one would resurface. Destroying their new homes and families.

“Fine,” Jake said with closed eyes, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger to soothe his aching head. Neteyam and Lo’ak stood behind their father as they awaited his orders. It was no surprise to you when you looked up to see Lo’ak with an excited look on his face at the thought of finally fighting in the front lines. You rolled your eyes at your younger brother.

When Jake opened his eyes again, he was not only met with the sight of his two sons, but the whole clan awaiting their Olo’eyktan’s signal. He sighed as he knew that the first war was still a healing wound for many of the people. As a leader, he was forced to accept the damage and move on, think of a future for his clan and forget its past. Accepting was a part of moving on, denying was a step back.

“Ready yourself for battle! We all approach through our Ikrans tonight, go get ready, we depart in 20 minutes.” he yelled at the large body of na’vis. With a grin on your face, you watched as the people moved swiftly to ready themselves, exhibiting their loyalty to the clan. You pushed your way through the crowd as Mo’rata’s hand left yours, though this was too important for you to care at the moment.

Neytiri’s eyes met yours, and for a second she wanted to stop her children from joining in. Only now, she knew that she could not stop you guys. You had matured and grown from the cowardly little children that you once were and now it was time for you to step foot into the real world.

You moved towards your sisters, kneeling down before Tuk as you gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She giggled wildly before ‘Ew-ing’ at your slobbery kiss. Her laughter was short-lived as her face dropped, she knew that there was a chance that her family may never return. She had seen it with her own eyes when one of her friends, Vutey, had lost his father. He was a hunter and Eywa had concluded his fate during his latest hunt.

She remembers watching Vutey crying in the comfort of his mothers arms, who she was sobbing alongside her only child.

Nevertheless, she gave you one last tight hug before you moved to your other sister. Kiri smiled at you before dipping two of her fingers in the coconut bowl that she held in her left hand. Out came a colourful paste that would later adorn your face. You closed your eyes as Kiri began tracing patterns on your skin with the paste, which made you shudder at the weirdly cold feeling.

Soon enough, she had finished half of your face. She dipped her fingers back in the half empty bowl, bringing it back to your face to finish your warrior’s face paint. Though it was short-lived before a third party had ripped you away from your sister, urging you by the arm. Kiri couldn’t be less unbothered, rolling her eyes and moving on to the next person.

You however, were ready to glare daggers at whoever had come to disrupt you in your little moment. You were not ready for that person being Mo’rata however..

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, his nonexistent eyebrows creasing as he spoke. You raised yours at his odd question, feeling the tension grow because of his little attitude problem.

“Uhh I was getting ready? What are you doing, messing up my face paint and all…” you scoffed, murmuring-loudly the last part as a petty attempt for him to hear it. You tried to walk away from Mo’rata and whatever childish tantrum he was throwing right now, rubbing the messed up part of the paste on your face with your fingers. The tight grip that Mo’rata had on your arm however would not allow you to move any further.

“No way in hell are you going to fight, not like that..”

“Not like how? You’re not my fucking father Mo’rata. Get off my back.” You hissed at him, and perhaps - just perhaps, you shouldn’t have been so hostile. You didn’t blame yourself though because who the hell was he to tell you what to do and what not? His behaviour did its best to displease you and his grip refused to falter.

“You cannot even hold your bow properly!” He hissed back, gritting his teeth as you were really starting to infuriate him. He was just worried, he was deathly worried for you. Though he was way too much of a stoic man with a great pride to admit that to you. To admit that he cared about you, he cared more than he thought he could.

He didn’t want you to partake in this battle because he feared the thought of losing you. The past few months that you guys have hung out together has been the only time he’s ever been as happy as this, even though his face didn’t really show it.

“You’ll be useless on the battlefield! You dare to even call yourself a warrior but you cannot do a thing as simple as wield your weapon correctly,” he paused, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He hates the way that fierce look on your face falls, and he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“An excuse of a Sully that you call yourself, maybe you should sit back here and wonder why your father favours your ‘golden’ brother. Ever wonder why you don’t know how to aim, maybe you should ask you precious little dad, i’m sure he was having a blast teaching his favourite so-“ Mo’rata was cut off by an unforeseen shove from you. His spiteful words were hurting every inch deep of your body and you tried to conceal it by showing your anger towards him instead.

In the spite of that, he noticed the hurt that showed on your face before you reverted to a hostile expression. He could still see it on your face as you held him tightly by the base of his necklace, the same one you had crafted for him. He hated how the damage of his words was still so evident, practically radiating off of you. But that’s what he wanted after all right? to hurt you. To rupture through that pride of yours to get you to stay here, safe and sound.

Although he wished for it to push you away from the war, it only seemed to push you further away from him.

You glared at him for a second before shaking your head with a scoff, backing away a few steps before looking back at him. You knew how he viewed Neteyam, you knew how everyone viewed your brother. Neteyam was everything that you were not, responsible and obedient. Though you didn’t want to be like Neteyam, you never wanted to abide by the rules or whatnot.

When you had met Mo’rata, he was the only person that did not constantly remind you of how you were expected to be the golden child. How your name brought shame upon your family because of your misconduct. Though he would always tease you, it was nothing ever real until now.

“Well you know what, fuck you and what you think of me. I’ll show you that I'm a real warrior!” you flashed him the two of your middle fingers, and he huffed at you. He did not know of the real meaning behind these signs, but you had shown it to him before during a few of your banters. So he knew that they were somewhat scornful.

He quickly realises what you have said, his brain was in a buzz from everything that’s been happening recently. He attempts to reach for you as you leave, but he could only watch as you slipped away from his fingers and back into the chaotic crowd. His fiery expression sunk for a second as he was left with the crumbs of your last argument.

-

Once your ikran had left the ground, you had tried your best to rid your mind of any thoughts about Mo’rata. Being lost in your emotions right now would only distract you from your mission, and a lack of concentration on the battlefield was oftentimes lethal.

Your Ikran followed closely behind Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s, who were busy arguing about something you couldn’t care less about. As their older sister, you’ve always had the urge to protect them. You had a strong feeling like today was the day that you’d finally prove yourself worthy of being their older sibling.

Not that they didn’t believe you weren’t, it was quite the opposite.

It didn’t take much more than 5 minutes of flying for you guys to find the group of humans that were posing a threat to your clan. They were so close to the village, so close to the Hallelujah mountains. Your eyes widened at the sight of their technology. Huge killer machines that both resided on the ground and in the sky.

Huge metal junks that were brought here in the sole purpose of destroying and polluting your wonderland. The sound of a war cry had broken you off of your train of thoughts and all of the elders dived down to take action. You told your ikran to speed up as you overtook your brothers that were still arguing. They turned their head at the sound of a third pair of wings flapping beside them, but then shuddered at the ‘if you mess this up, i’ll kill the both of you’ kind of look that you gave them before diving down yourself.

Lo’ak broke into a cold sweat as he thought of the last time you had given him a good sibling’s beating for nearly harming Tuk as he took her out of the camp and out into the deep forest. You knew that your idiot brother was just like you, carefree, young and dumb at times. Though there were times where Lo’ak couldn’t tell the difference between a good time and an actual danger warning, so you and your father were here to remind him.

You wasted no time dismounting your ikran as its firm legs grazed the floor. You grabbed the spear that was attached to the ikran’s leather harness, throwing it through the back of a confused human’s skull with no hesitation. The communication collar that connected your father and brother to you buzzed before you heard the deep voice of your father. He informed the both of you that this was no fight against Quaritch, thankfully. You had heard too many stories about this menace of a man, stories from your great warriors of parents. Nevertheless, he broke the bad news to you, telling you that you were indeed fighting against one of Miles’ acquaintance’s team.

You allowed yourself to be distracted for a moment by the voice of your father, almost costing you your life as a sky demon aimed his weapon at you. A thanator abruptly came out from the bushes behind the man, catching the both of you off guard as it slammed its heavy body into the human and its considerable machine. You took this as an opportunity to run, grabbing the bow and arrows of a fallen soldier - just in case you would need it along the way.

As much as you tried to forget what Mo’rata had told you, his words could only echo in the back of your head. So you’d rather be safe than sorry, even if you weren’t the best at archery. You’d make sure to honour the valiant fallen soldier later on, silently thanking him for his devotion.

You looked around you and couldn’t spot any familiar faces, your mother and father must’ve been on different sides than you and your brothers. Your brothers, you suddenly remembered. Where the hell were they? had something happened to the both of them?

Endless questions ran through your head as you had been body slammed by one of the men, courtesy of your distracted mind once more. His hands pushed your head back harshly as you both fell to the ground, slamming your head severely on the dirty ground. You gasped for air as your back hit the ground, using your long legs to push off the man that had fallen above you. His much smaller body flew a few feet away before hitting the ground once again. He coughed and spat blood as he felt his body burning from the impact.

When you had approached him, the sun had darkened your figure upon his vision. In his hazy state, he could’ve thought that you were an angel coming at his rescue. You glowed and shaded him temporarily from the war. However, the spear that had impaled his torso shortly after had proved him wrong, executing him immediately.

The fall had caused you to injure the back of your head, the small wound that was open as the back of your head leaked with blood, matching the dead man before you.

You lifted your spear up as the man’s body accompanied it. Your indifferent yellow eyes watched as his blood dripped down the handle of your spear, smearing the crimson liquid all over your fingers. They had no sense of empathy towards your people, so why should you?

Your brothers, you had remembered, flinging the useless man’s body to the side as you picked up the pace.

You heard the buzzing again, this time you did not pause when your fathers voice erupted from the device. The last time you did, it had almost cost you your life.

“Y/N, Neteyam. I need both of you to tell everyone else to evacuate right now!” he ordered the both of you, and at first when you had not heard your brother’s voice responding, your heartbeat had picked up its pace. You flinched as the body of a human soldier came flying towards you, dodging it just in time. You looked incredulously at the na’vi that had flung it, murmuring a quick apology under his breath before returning to battle.

“Why's that, sir?” Neteyam defied his father, well not really. He was just curious. You felt your heart physically relax at the voice of your baby brother. You could tell that Lo’ak was safe too, because neteyam had not said anything yet.

“The man we’re fighting is an ex-marine. Alban is his name and I….I know him, he’s no easy target. The na’vi will only get themselves killed so I need the both of you to please warn them. Tell them to find refuge at the Tree of souls.” you frowned as you heard the despair in your father’s voice, you couldn’t imagine how stressed he felt right now.

“We’re coming to fight with you,” the voice of your youngest brother broke the loud-silence. He was talking through Neteyam’s device, and by the lack of response that you both received from him - you could tell that he agreed with his younger brother.

Your ears picked up on the subtle sound of denial that Jake had let out. “You are not, do you understand this son? It is far too dangero-“

“You’ve always told us that Sully’s stick together, so why contradict yourself now? Pull yourself together, we’re coming soon.” You said and Jake could only sigh at his oldest children. You were hard headed and Neteyam was strong willed. Fighting with the both of you through the tiny device that laid across his throat was like talking to brick wall

“Fine,” he groaned “but make sure to warn everyone before, or i’ll make it my personal mission to skin the both of you alive when we get back home.”

-

You had found yourself lost among the chaos, people were running all over the place. Either carrying other na’vis or running back to their ikrans. Your siblings and you were ordering everyone that had made it back alive to grab unto their injured comrades and flee to the spiritual tree.

This was your family’s battle to fight. Your father had always felt responsible for the events of the Home Tree, because he had been part of the destructive project before he had fallen in love with your mother. Although he was still trying to repent to this day, you guys were a family and as your father always says ; ‘Sully's stick together’. If he was fighting this battle, then so were you, your brothers and your mother. Your sisters were helping too, just not on the battlefield.

“Go, go back to the Tree of souls. The healers await you there.” You told the passing na’vis. Your Ikran was somewhere behind you as it waited for you to join it again. There was a slight dust storm going on around you from all of the Ikrans suddenly departing, and soon the dust had settled down again.

There was a singular figure left and even from afar, you could recognize the na’vi from thousands. His scars and uneven hair gave him away. He had seemed to have noticed you too, because he was clearly staring straight at you. Then, your eyes casted downwards towards the new litter of fresh wounds that covered his torso. They were nothing to worry about, probably would just leave faint scars with a residue of dried up scabs to pick at.

Despite the argument that you had earlier and all of the things that he had said to you, you had never been happier to see him. Happiness was surely a feeling that you felt when you were anywhere near him. He was alive and well, standing right before you. The look in his eyes said so much more than he could even verbalise. They spoke to you from afar, telling you how sorry he was, they told you how much he cared about you.

With no hesitation, you ran forward towards him. You used his shoulders as supports to stabilise yourself as you raised to your tip-toes, thrashing your cheek against his in a loving caress. He allowed himself to melt in your touch, rubbing the side of his face with yours too like two cats in love. His hands found a home at the curve of your waist, just like his heart had found a home within you.

You moved your head to look him in the eyes, and he softened at the memory of what he had said earlier.

“I’m sorry for wha-“

“I’ve already forgiven you, long ago,” you cut him off, making that cheshire grin reappear on his face. Although it quickly left as your face fell suddenly. You truly wanted to stay mad at him for longer, maybe even for as long as he walked on this land. Though you did know what was to ensue from this battle, so you wished that your last moments with him would be spent through forgiveness and adoration.

“You must return to the sacred tree, the healers are waiting for your return.” You tell him as you look towards anywhere but him. He notices your distraught look and raises a hand to cup the side of your jaw, turning your head gently to look at him.

You felt your heart halt at the look that he was giving you, your lungs felt like they were failing you. His eyes stirred between your lips and the rest of your features. Shifting from the way your ears flickered at his sudden attention, to the way your nose twitched slightly from all of the stray dust that flew around the both of you.

He leaned in, and his intentions were not really clear to you. You had an idea of what he desired, and such thought made you giddy with delight. You both allowed yourselves to pretend like nothing bad was happening to your homeland at the moment. You allowed yourself to feel safe within his presence, and so did he.

He tilted his head to the side as his eyes met yours again. The smile that formed from the little giggle that you let out fed his heart with so much bliss. Like a child being allowed to go down to the rivers for the first time.

He leaned down more and stopped before you, wondering if maybe it was inappropriate to do this at such a time. It was, truly, but when had you ever cared about such a minor dilemma. You leaned into him, finishing what he had started as your lips moulded into his.

Mo’rata’s ears raised as you kissed him. Though his eagerness was short lived as you pulled away, hiding behind your hand as you laughed away shyly. He relished in the few seconds that he got of his lips on yours, the need to jump around like a little girl was very much present in his bones and it made him want to grind up his own skeleton structure up at the thought.

He had never kissed anyone before, but he was elated that you were his first. In his heart, you'd always be the only one. If anything were to happen to you, he promised himself that he would rather rip his own heart out than love another.

The hand that was still present on your jaw rubbed loving circles into your cheeks, reminding you of your mother’s touch. You leaned into his palm, looking up at him with loving eyes. You had learned to find a second home within Mo’rata. He was your escape, the pillar that you leaned on when you desperately needed support.

“You make me feel weird things.” Mo’rata grumbled as you picked up on it. He was smiling, for the first time in his life (that you had seen) and your eyes widened, pupil’s expanding as you stared at the rare sight across of you.

“You’re smiling! You’re smiling because of me?!” you beamed, laughing violently as you two forgot about the war currently going on from behind the two of you. Mo’rata’s smile suddenly fell as he scowled, removing his hands from your waist and jaw to cross them grumpily across his chest.

The gesture only made you laugh harder, tears trickling in your eyes as you wiped them away with the back of your hands. He smiled again at your carefreeness, this time much more teasingly.

“You must return to me whole, or else I'll personally bring you back just to kill you again.” he threatened and for a moment there, it sounded almost too real. The fact that he was smiling cockily at you while threatening you truly made this scene unforgettable. You chuckled at him, before backing away from the intimidating looking man . You felt empty without his presence near you, but you had much more important things to worry about right now.

The sound of Lo’ak calling your name cut you out of your trance, but before you left, you called out for Mo’rata once more. He was busy climbing his Ikran when he heard your call, instinctively turning back to your voice. You had one of those goofy grins plastered on your face, one that told him not to worry about you too much.

“I’ll make sure to kick those demon’s asses!” you shouted and he rolled his eyes, the slight smile on his face told you that it was inoffensive. If you had had this conversation a few months prior, he would’ve probably called you names and deeming you the demon amongst many other things. Now, however, he saw you as an equal. No matter if you had 5 fingers or eyebrows, he found your special features endearing.

He laughed to himself once more, before flying off on his Ikran. Now, he could only pray to Eywa to keep you safe in her hands.

-

Blood was pouring out of your wound unceasingly, but the aching pain that you felt right now was the least of your concerns. You had not even turned away for two minutes, tending to Mo’rata’s soaring heart, and your brothers were nowhere in sight. Perhaps you had been too blinded by love to realise the calls of your father through the tiny microphone. Neither your father or brother were responding to your desperate calls and you had no idea why.

You felt as thought you had already scouted the whole of the Pandora forest thrice. You were lost amongst the forest, and you wanted nothing more than to escape the place you called a home. The bioluminescent beauty that oftentimes calmed you could only infuriate you now. You were making no progress whatsoever and you felt a tinge of guilt at the thought of harming the All-Mother’s creation to find your family.

Your hand reached up to the communication device once more, the other hand holding you up on your ikran. You could feel that she was just as exhausted as you were, as well as her shuddering breaths. You pressed on the buttons of the human-device before calling out to your father, again and again and again. You called out for your brother, your mother, to no avail. There was no one to respond to your calls, and you had never felt more defeated in your entire life.

The wound that was still very much open on the back of your head was beginning to tire you out, and your legs were starting to ache from the amount of time that you were spending on your ikran. You pressed on the buttons again, in an attempt to be useful. You wanted to give yourself some kind of hope that your family was still there and alive, but it was hard to believe as more time passed.

The open gash at the back of your head was begging to tire you out. Your legs were aching from the amount of time that you had spent riding your ikran. You knew that you could not give up now, because how could you go back home to your family after this? You had never been a cowardly child, always filled with the adventurous need to explore. Though as you stood exhausted on the flying animal, you had never been more terrified.

How could you go back to your grandmother, all wound up and alone afterwards. How could you announce to her that her only remaining daughter was now dancing in Nirvana alongside her sister. How could you rip the young Tuk’s heart apart and steal yet another family from Kiri? You were not sure that you were capable of doing it now, or any other time.

After too many failed attempts at reaching for your father, you had stopped addressing him like you normally did. The military honorifics felt bitter on your tongue and you urged yourself to swallow the rising bile. You had called him by his parental name, because at the moment, you weren’t searching for Jake Sully nor Toruk Makto. You were calling out for your father, the same father that had watched you grow for the past 18 years. The same father that had grown emotionally distant as you grew up, and the same father that you would continue to love nevertheless.

He too, from afar could only wish for the same. He could only wish to hold his daughter one more time in his arms as he told her that everything was ok. Because it wasn’t. Alban currently had one of his muscular arms wrapped around the middle of your father’s neck, pressing harshly against his adam’s apple. His failed attempts at escaping the demon’s hold was to be deemed pathetic. He, the Olo’eyktan and leader of the Omatikaya, couldn’t even outfight a simple man. .

Neytiri bared her canines at the pale man, a venomous hiss escaping her throat. She didn’t cower or submit the man’s threats, standing her ground as she hovered a hand over her son’s protectively. Alban pointed his weapon towards your mother and siblings, finger resting on the trigger. He shot a bullet in between Neteyam and Neytiri, barely missing your brother’s arm. Neytiri’s ears flattened and for a moment, her posture faltered. How could you put a mother in this position? Making her choose between her mate or her children. It was obvious as to whom she would choose in the end, as a mother, her duty was to protect her children.

She couldn’t help the surge of guilt that had creeped its way into her heart as she watched her husband struggle. She felt frustrated tears trickle in her round eyes as she pushed her body closer to sons, protecting them from the gun’s nose.

You were still missing and your father was literally getting asphyxiated, give the woman a poor rest. She had already lost so many things prior. Her sister, her father and her past home, watching Jake's poor attempt at fighting back had rendered her heartbroken. He was lacking air as his own sons watched their father slowly dissipating in front of them.

She could hear you through your father’s collar, asking where they were. Dramatically asking every second for their whereabouts and if they were still there. Neytiri’s heart twisted at her distressed daughter. She felt as though you were mutilating her own heart as she heard the wavering of your voice, the fragileness in your tone. She could only imagine the thoughts that were passing through your head at the moment.

Jake was not ready to go, not yet. He had yet to do so many things that he should’ve done years ago. He had yet to tell his youngest son that he was proud of him too, he had yet to tell you that he saw you too and not just Neteyam. He thought about how much admiration his eldest son held towards him, then about his two daughters that were awaiting his return back at the camp.

Seconds felt like hours and Jake was slowly turning more and more purple as the time passed. Your mother and brothers felt like their worlds were being ripped away from them as they stood defenceless.

Jake's eyes began to falter and the shaky arm that held the weapon would not falter under exhaustion. Neytiri’s cries could be heard across the entire forest at this point and Lo’ak sobbed harder at the sight of his family breaking in the midst of war. He was one of the few people who did not hate sky people in his family, but in the moment he had wanted nothing but for them all to be gone.

Neytiri’s dampened eyes shifted back towards the sky demon’s face before her own contorted to one of stupor. Blood dribbled from his slightly open mouth, crimson liquid dripping down onto her unconscious husband’s head. His eyes were voiced of any life, in contrast to the deathly soldier that she had encountered earlier. Suddenly, he fell to his side as he brought Jake along with him, lifting a cloud of dust around the both of them.

Neteyam wasted no time sprinting towards his father, as his mother and brother were too caught up in puzzlement. One second ago he had been fighting fiercely against the Olo’eyktan and the next, he was lying coldly against the forest floor. Neteyam shoved the human’s hand away from his father’s neck, checking for a pulse as he laid his fingers against his neck.

Neytiri followed closely behind her son, thrashing her cheek out upon his chest - checking for a sign of life.

She cried once more, though this time the tears that covered her cheeks had not been in anguish. She bawled, crying out her gratitude towards the Great Mother for having given her mate another day to live. He would not die tonight, not when he was in the hands of the All-Mother. His heart was still beating, slowly but mighty pulses.

She checked his body for any major wounds, though her heart skipped a beat at the puddle of blood that surrounded her husband. She lifted him instantly, her eyes widening at the shallow arrow wound that ran along his back - where he had been held against the human. The blood did not belong to Jake, she could smell the difference and her nose scrunched up in disgust.

She carefully moved her husband’s head unto her oldest son’s lap before moving before the human. She looked back at Alban’s chest, and there it laid. The sharp arrow that had struck right through his back. It had sliced its way right through the left side of his upper chest, impaling his heart as it stuck halfway out of his frontal. He drowned in his own repulsive blood, bathing Jake in it as well.

She was confused at first, but the sound of some quiet sobs had told her everything that she needed to know. She looked back and past where Alban previously sat kneeled, seeing as her youngest son was no longer behind her, but hugging your sobbing frame. You held your brother tighter than you had ever held him. Her eyes dragged down to the unfamiliar bow that laid besides your feet, long forgotten as you found yourself lost in the comfort of your brother’s embrace.

Her heart soared at the memory of you painful pleading cries when Jake was locked in a chokehold, without your knowledge. They were unable to respond to you at the moment, because of the gun that had been aimed at them. Neytiri stood up, now knowing that her husband was still alive and breathing.

She engulfed you in a much needed hug upon arrival, tightening her home around you as you

sobbed harder. Your tears ran down your face, soaking your mother’s weaved top. The last time you had cried to her like this, you had been around Tuk’s age. Upset because a boy had been bothering you during an excursion, frustrating tears ran down your cheeks right as you had breached your tent’s doors. You had found comfort in your mother’s embrace that night, just as you had just done. Because nothing in this world could replace a mothers comfort.

In the corner of your eyes, you had noticed your father that laid upon Neteyam’s lap. He looked relieved, warm and content as his gaze fell upon you. You allowed yourself to relax into your mother’s shoulder as you knew that your family was still alive and complete. Neytiri felt you relaxing in her arms as she used a hand to wipe the stray tears that stuck to your skin.

“That’s all thanks to you, my daughter.” Neytiri said to you, eyes full of love and adoration for her daughter. You had ran away so many times before, and sometimes, you had wished of losing your way. Wishing that your path led you to a new beginning, a new home amongst the lands of Pandora. But before that, you had been an angsty teen that found a home in freedom.

Tonight, your sole wish was to go back home. In the comfort of your favourite people, safe and sound in the clan.

-

As you reached the Tree of Souls, you dismounted your ikran before it flew away to rest somewhere nearby. You were beyond exhausted and your legs were begging for a rest. The new collection of wounds that littered your skin would make a great scar story for your future offsprings.

You held onto the back of your head as a burning feeling had replaced the simple aching overtime. The vegetation around the tree gave a calming hue that you could handle for now, any brighter and you were sure to rip your eyeballs out with your own fingers.

The rest of the Omatikaya had gathered before you, everyone that had been ordered to seek refuge at the tree. They watched as you wobbled slightly on your painfully aching legs, one by one, they greeted you with the Oel ngati kameie (i see you) hand sign. You, their mighty saviour. You, Y/N Sully, the saviour of the Omatikaya clan.

The words spread at an inhumane pace amongst the clan because it had not even been 5 minutes that you had arrived, and they were already praising your exploits.

Your blazing yellow eyes shifted between the numerous Na’vi men and woman that stood in front of you. Without wasting more time, your legs moved on their own to bring you to wherever they could manage to bring you. The more you advanced through the crowd, the people were moving out of the way to create a path for you. Greeting you with the same welcoming symbol.

You didn’t necessarily appreciate the attention but you surely liked being appreciated for your bravery and success. This felt like a little much though.

Your long stride had come to a dead end as a single person had not dispersed amongst the crowd. The people watched him from the sidelines, insulting glares being sent towards his way from every side.

There he stood in front you, in all of his shinning glory. His sweaty skin glistened amongst the glowing flowers of the forest as his freckles joined in the mix. Your eyes softened at the mere sight of him.

“You saved my father’s life back there. If it wasn’t for you, I would've probably missed my shot.” you told him, thanking him before the clan and Eywa for his service.

Your family had arrived shortly behind you, watching your interaction with the Na’vi from behind you. They had also received the same treatment from the people. Your father was back, despite a little wobbly on his feet and slightly still dazed, he was here nevertheless. You had all awaited his awakening before leaving to seek the rest of the clan. He was confused when his whole family pounced on him at his rise, but he was happy nevertheless.

Your family had praised you, alongside your brothers for your undeniable bravery. You could’ve started sobbing again when your father had audibly voiced out his proudness towards you. He hugged you again, like the both of you had wished for during the times of chaos. Neytiri felt her heart momentarily ache at the sight of her all grown daughter. She could’ve sworn that just yesterday she was rocking you to sleep as a newborn.

“That was all you, You wielded the bow, and you released the arrow. Be proud of yourself, little warrior.” He teased you, even at a time like this. You smiled at him, happy that he was still himself after all of these events. He praised your accomplishments before the clan. Deeming you a worthy warrior, contrary to what he had told you before the fight.

Neytiri’s heartache was short lived as a feeling of pride swaddled her heart. You were an independent woman now and when she looked into your eyes, she could see herself years prior. She looked at Mo’rata before glancing back at her family, which were all looking at you with the biggest grins ever plasterer on their faces.

“You need to embarrass yourself purposely infront of Iri’me tomorrow if something happens between them here and there!” Spider attempted to whisper to Lo’ak but failed miserably as the said Iri’me turned to glare at them from the crowd.

Neteyam averted his gaze from the angry woman as he pretended to yawn. Open his arms widely behind him before slapping his ‘brother’ across the back of his head.

“Shut up skxawng! plus we aaaaaall know that something is gonna’ happen. Cmon look at him, he’s literally eye fu-“ Lo’ak started, before getting put back in his place by Kiri.

Kiri beamed as Mo’rata extended his arm towards you, fine muscles flexing at his every move. His hand opens as he held his open palm out for you to grab. You tilted your head to the side in cluelessness and jake held back the urge to facepalm at his daughter’s obliviousness. As much as your dad was sceptical of the Na’vi in front of you, he told himself that it was better to watch you accept Mo’rata’s potential courtship instead of another random na’vi.

He knew that you had fallen for the fierce warrior, and he knew that so did Mo’rata with you. He could recognize the looks in your eyes within thousands of others, because he had lived through with Neytiri.

Despite the bitter look on his face, Jake was just as proud of you. He knew how much the weight of your duties had affected you during all of your youth but you had matured now. You accepted your duties as a part of life and understood that there was no reason for you to feel overwhelmed,

because your family was always there for you, and they’ll always continue to be there.

A random woman from behind you had noticed your hesitation as she curtly pushed you forward, having you end up straight in the Na’vi’s arms. He couldn’t help but stare straight into your eyes, because despite the hundreds of similar ones that surrounded him at the moment, he’s never found ones that were just as mesmerising as yours.

You put your hands across his chest to stabilise yourself as you stared right back into his eyes, feeling so much fondness for the man you once considered an enemy.

Both your ears flickered at the sight of an Atokirina' floating down towards you two, before it settled for floating between the two of you. His gaze turned back to you as he watched you observe the Woodsprite. In a split second, an army of Woodsprites engulfed the two of you in their floating antics. Causing Mo’rata to slightly back away in surprise.

You knew what this meant, so did he and so did everyone around the both of you. Eywa had spoken and she had chosen to do it infront of the many people.

You nearly lost your footing at the loud cheering, you eyes circled the whole clan as you looked back at your future mate once more. Placing two finger near your forehead before lowering them towards the intimidating looking man.

“I see you..” you smiled before letting out a curt laugh at Mo’rata.

For the first time in Eywa knows how long, the clan watched as the Na’vi cracked a small smile towards his lover, reciprocating the hand gesture.

“I see you, ii’yu” (darling)

Your hand reached to his before slipping your fingers between his very own, raising them before the people. In the corner of your eyes had you spotted your lovely family. Your siblings all waved to you guys as little Tuk jumped up and down from sheer joy for you. Your parents simply smiled warmly at you, and you were quite surprised to see your father smiling despite Mo’rata’s presence.

After all, Eywa had spoken and when the time comes, you will rule the Omatikaya as their Tsahik, alongside Mo’rata as the Olo’eyktan.

tags: @neteyamforlife @ssc7514 @iloveavatar @killinqpills @ilovejakesullysdick @liyahsocorro @sujekie @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @miawastakens @onlytays @junnniiieee07 @mashiromochi

[deceitfuldevout]

Mercy (Part 1)

Dark!Tommy Shelby x Enemy!Reader

Word Count: +4,034

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Kidnapping, Hostage situation, Manhandling, Mind break, Threats of violence, Forced oral (m receiving), Forced stripping, Gore, Physical violence, Loss of virginity, Forced intrusion, Public humiliation.

Author's note(s): Bringing this back this series 💞

Tommy Shelby has always believed in an eye for an eye. He doesn't care how long it takes. He'll hunt down every single person who's ever wronged him. He finds out that your parents were the ones who informed the woman that cursed his Ruby. Well, he decides to save the best for last.

Since you were a little girl, your parents always warned you to stay away from gangsters. Your entire life being shielded away from any possible dangers. Being part of a clan but residing in the city. Your father had built an incredible wealth for himself. He made sure to shield you from any possible dangers the world had. But nothing would prepare you for this.

You were taken on a Sunday evening, just after church. The men who took you were ordered by their gang leader, Thomas Michael Shelby. Peaky Blinders, they were called. A group of criminals who were only up to no good. You were the first to leave mass, not wanting to partake in conversation with anyone. You decided to sit on the steps of the church, until your mother finishes conversating with the other women. You sigh, already yearning to return home. Knowing your mother, this would take a while.

You look up at the winter sky, hoping it would snow in time for Christmas. A car drives by, and two men step out. You move to the side to let them pass. They approach you, both of them standing on each of your sides. It was at that moment when you knew, they were sent by someone. Because over here, gangsters would only come for someone if they were given the orders to. A scream escapes your lips as you fought them off.

His partner muffles your cries with a rag. You scream at the top of your lungs and cry out, "Somebody help me! Help!" sobbing for them not to take you. What business did they have with you? Nothing good. Your mother is the first to notice your absence. As soon as she hears screaming from outside, she rushes out the church. To her horror she sees you being hauled into a stranger's car. She chases the vehicle now driving off, falling to the ground with a wail. Onlookers of the church try their best to console her.

The peaky men drag you to an abandoned building, the one reserved only for their worst enemies. Where numerous men have met their maker. You're tied to a metal chair, with both wrists and ankles secured. A satchel had been placed on your head. You have no idea where they'd taken you. Tommy doesn’t know if he can contain his anger any longer. It had taken them a while to find your location. A long trail of bloodshed led them directly to the church's doorsteps.

Tommy's men inform him of your parents involvement, how they had spoken of the cursed necklace to Madame. His Ruby was gone now because of it. When he heard of you he became excited. You were their only child. Their prized possession. Tommy's wedding ring feels heavy, and for once, he takes it off before getting started.

The covering is swiftly removed, a man now stands right in front of you. He takes a good look at your petrified expression. Almost as if he were admiring it. A grabs a chair to sit right in across from yours. It's cold inside the building. You could see your breath from the freezing air. He leans in, "Do you know who I am?" he questions. You shook your head. He doesn't like that, "Use your words,"

"N-no..." shrinking into the seat. Tommy doesn't buy it, "You're a liar, y'know? And a lousy one at that," because everyone knows who Tommy Shelby is.

"M-not--" you whine as he squeezes your jaw with a gloved hand. It hurts. He growls in your face, "You will speak when spoken to," he squeezes harder, "Do you understand?" he waits for what you had to say. You look up at him with a tearful look, "P-please this has to be a mistake! I've done nothing wrong!" because of that, he begins to choke you. He voice is deep, sharp, "My daughter had done nothing wrong, yet she was taken from me," he tilts his head, "Did she not deserve to live?"

You don't know what to say. How could you to a man hellbent on revenge? The real question is, what did you do to provoke him? He lets go, leaving the skin raw with visible bruising. Tommy retreats to a desk where assorted torture devices await. He careful inspects each one, examining which tool would be used. He retrieves a scalpel, one used to slice skin and gouge the flesh, "Which part of you do I cut away first, hm?"

You shook your head, now sobbing uncontrollably, "Nononono! P-please!" looking down to your lap to cry. Tommy isn't satisfied, "Look at me," he orders, "Look at me," he doesn't like repeating himself. You hesitantly rise your gaze, now looking up at the man. There's a bewildered look in his eyes. You notice the corners of his lips were up in a faint grin. He whispers, "This is the end...this is the end of your life, yeah?" he drags the blade the side of your jaw. He enjoys watching you squirm.

Tommy looks up at the men standing behind you. He orders them to leave. Now it was just the two of you. What did he have in store? He made sure you get a good look at the blade. It shines in the dim lighting, “You’re pretty, I’ll give you that much,” he brings the knife to your face, “but for how long?” he brings it down to your neck, teasing the collar. He whispers, "From now on, you are my property," he grips your jaw to open, sliding a finger inside, "It was a tongue that gave the order," his other hand digs into the sides of your jaw, forcing your mouth to open.

Tommy brings the knife to it, "Should I cut it out first?" he digs his fingers deep inside, reaching for the muscle. You try stopping him from doing so, even attempting to clamp your jaw shut, to which he began pushing them deeper in. He mimics the way you gagged around them in a mocking manner. You sputter into a sob, begging for him not to.

Tommy then stops, "No...I can't do that...then you won't explain it to me, and I want you to explain," He grips the back of your head to face him. His features are contorted with anger, "I want you to fucking explain!" he spat. Your bottom lip trembles as you say something. Tommy removes his hand to hear what you had to say, "Please...have mercy..."

“Mercy?” He scoffs, "Is that what you want?" it was almost humorous to him, the entitlement you and your family had, “Where was mercy when they took my little girl?” he brings the knife to your neck, it lightly nicks the skin. You don't say a word, too afraid of deepening the cut. He gave you a look of disgust. As if you’d done something terrible to anger him. Like you wronged him before this.

But what? Everyone in town knew there would be nothing to worry about when a blinder would arrive. No one would ever be worried of being targeted, unless they'd actually done something. So what did you, of all people, possibly do to anger a man like Tommy Shelby? You hadn't a clue.

His leans in, his forehead now pressing against yours, "I'm not going to kill you, no..." his mood swings changes, like fire and ice, "I am going to keep you alive for a very, very long time..." He flicks the button of your blouse open with the knife, "I'll have you praying for death," a promise he'll make sure comes true.

You began to plead with him, "No please! Don't do this!" tears began to form, spilling down both cheeks. You knew what happens to people who've crossed the Peaky Blinders. What they did to their victims. Sometimes not even a body was left. The thought of you being cut into a million pieces downright terrifies you, "Help! Someone! Please! Help me!"

Tommy isn't phased, he's dealt with people in denial before, “You can scream all you want, nobody will hear you,” he promises. He finishes flicking off the last button, revealing the swell of your breasts, you panic, "Mr. Shelby please! You're making a big mistake--" Both of his hands shoot for your neck. He held them in place, squeezing as hard as he can. His face nears your petrified one. There's a hint of gravel in his voice, "A lying whore is what you are," he squeezes harder, taking joy in watching you suffer.

Never in a million years would he imagine stooping this low. But this wasn't just any case, it was personal. He loosens his grip allowing you to breathe for a moment. He sighs, clearly annoyed with your behavior. Whatever games you wanted to play, he doesn't have time for, "What did I say about lying?!" Tommy yells at the top of his lungs.

"M'not lying! I swear! Ow!" you whine from his grip on your hair. He leans in and calmly states, "Fine, have it your way," Tommy didn't plan on going easy on you. But after hearing you lie right to his face? Well, he wants to make this hurt, bad. Tommy drags the sharpened tool along the fabric of your skirt. He tears your brand-new church clothes to shreds. Until you were left only in undergarments. Goosebumps began to form on your skin.

Tommy feasts his eyes on the sight of your unblemished flesh. He rakes them up and down, mentally capturing the moment. You looked soft, supple in all the right places. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips. His lids hooded from thinking about the things he would do.

Oh...this was going to be fun.

Tommy Shelby is dead set on one thing and one thing only: Revenge. There is no room for sympathy in his heart. Not after losing his wife, then his daughter. There is no other pain comparable to that. At this point, there's nothing in this world that could change his mind. What happened to Ruby changed something inside him. He would never be the same again.

"There are a few rules," he wants you to know, "Do not fight me, yeah? Or I'll break every last one of your fucking bones," he knows he's strong enough to, "Do not speak unless you're spoken to," the last thing he wants to hear is an excuse, "You are my property, what I say is law," both of his hands cradle the sides of your head. He makes sure you know, he's dead serious, "Am I understood?"

Your teeth can't stop clattering as you shiver a faint, "Y-yes,"

"What will I do with you? Hm? Should I start cuttin you up piece by piece? No...no one would waste their hard-earned money on you," he starts to mumble, "Maybe hire you as one of my whores? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts. Tommy can't help but smile at the way you frantically shook your head.

He bit his lip, as if he were in deep thought, "No, you wouldn't make it, I know your type," he knows your kind very well, bunch of prim and proper pansies, "I should break you in first, mold you, so that you won't think of anything else other than cock," Tommy always had a way to make people squirm with only a few words.

He finds their weaknesses and uses it against them. He thrusts a few fingers deep inside your mouth, enjoying the sounds of your gargled cries. He pumps the gloved digits in and out. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth. Then an idea hits him, "How about I make you my personal whore?" he taunts, "How does the title of 'cock-sleeve' sound?" poking your forehead, "Tat it right...there," twisting a finger into the skin.

All you could do was cry. A deep wail pours from your lungs. Why? Why was he doing this? You haven't done anything wrong! "P-please, if you just listen to me--" a scream escapes your lips as he pulls at your hair. There's a burning sensation on the crown of your scalp. He's done playing games, "What did I say about speaking?" his voice booms.

Tommy's hand hovers over the tray of tools. He retrieves a gag, forcing the straps around your head. He pinches your nose shut, forcing you to part your lips. He secures the metal hooks inside your mouth, forcing it to open wide. A trail of drool leaks out. It's impossible to close it without hurting. He secures the buckles located on the back of your head.

Tommy still held onto your hair, so that you would face him. There's a scowl on his sharp features. His teeth are barred. Just looking at you pisses him off. He spits inside your mouth, watching as you squirm from the act. Your tongue swirls inside as an attempt to get rid of it. He does it again, this time right at your face, then again and again. He wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. Bound and gagged, like an animal.

Tommy zips opens his fly, he pulls out his semi-hardened cock. He gives it a few lazy tugs before finding the right grip. Then he starts to pump his shaft while keeping eye contact with you. His cold blues stare down yours. Like a predator stalking its prey. He huffs, quickening his pace.

Tommy then grabs the back of your head and forces you to take his cock. He thrusts it as far as he could go. He bucks his hips a few times, groaning at the welcoming feeling of a warm hole. You were like a present wrapped around him. His eyelids shut, his lashes fluttering from the pleasure. He pauses for a moment to catch his breath. His hands are rough, gripping the sides of your head as he starts fucking your mouth.

You have no choice but to take it. He then plunges his member as deep as it could go, stifling your sobs. There are only squelching noises coming from your mouth, just how he likes it. He gives another deep thrust, holding it for a moment as you struggle to breathe. Your nose brushes against his pubic hair. A huge trail of drool and cum dribbles down your chin. Tommy moans, "Fuck yeah...let me fuck your throat..." he throws his head back in pleasure before looking back down at your pathetic form.

He indulges in the sight of you crying out. He could practically feel the scream trapped in the back of your throat, "M'gonna paint you with it..." His breath starts to shorten, "...mark what's mine," Tommy shuts his lids, his nose scrunches as he was close. Your throat was burning from the abuse. Soon enough he came, in hard waves. He shoots a load down your throat, painting the inside to his liking.

Tommy waits for a moment to catch breath. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead from the sweat. He brushes it back with a free hand, catching his breath. His cock was still buried deep inside your mouth. He hisses, baring his teeth while pulling it out. His cum trails from the tip of his cock to your now swollen lips. There's something so sinister about the act that he just can't seem to get enough of. He actually starts to laugh, "You'd let anyone use you, hm?" If he were in a romantic mood, he'd kiss you, make it all nice and sloppy.

But it just wasn't enough. He wants more of you. He cuts the ropes that bounded your hands to the chair, pulling you out of it. One of the first things you do is make a run for it. He groans with annoyance, what a stupid thing to do. Before you could reach the door Tommy plants a few bullets in it. You fall to the ground, shielding your head from the strays.

Tommy sighs, "You shouldn't have done that..." he places his gun back in into its holster, before approaching your quivering form still on the floor. If looks could kill, you would be dead on the spot. You're too scared to even move, trapped under his piercing gaze. Tommy's expression is purely livid. He strides over, his cock still half hard. He curls a finger, giving a nonverbal command. When you dare not to move, it only worsens his mood.

You shook your head, "Please...you don't have to do this..."

"I know, I want to," he confesses, "I want to break you,"

If you didn't want to comply, fine. He'll have to come over there. Tommy's shoe lands on your shoulder, sending you falling to the ground with a thud. He has a leg to each of your sides, now wrestling into submission. His strength is unlike anyone you've met. He forces you on your stomach. You try your best to fend off the gangster.

You land an elbow on Tommy's rib, before he ultimately wins the upper hand. He uses his belt to bind both your wrists together. As you twist and turn, Tommy lands a few hard cracks against your rear. A chain of curses escapes your lips. He doesn't stop, not even after your skin is raw. He'll make sure to leave bruises. When he hears your mumbled, pleas turn into full-on screaming, it was music to his ears. He wonders what it would sound like breaking you in.

Tommy doesn’t bother prepping, he wants this to hurt. He slides his leaking tip up and down, gliding it against your cunt. It takes him a moment to find it. Soon enough, he's pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He held your head still against the ground. His gloved hand spreads across the side of your face. His other held his cock, guiding it to your opening. As soon as he thrusts it in, you scream at the top of your lungs. Fuck did his ears hurt.

A hand shoots to muffle your cries. Tommy scowls, "Fucks sake would you keep quiet?!" he looks you in the eyes, "This isn't your first time," when he says it you only cry harder. That's when it clicked. Tommy grins, "So it is..." there's a hint of glee in his voice. He sounds smug, knowing that he'd taken something from you that no other man will, "Then I might as well take every last one..." he purrs, thrusting his hips faster.

There was something about being a woman's first that does something to a man. Tommy wanted to fuck that innocence away. He's going to train you really well, have you begging for his cock. He'll make sure to ruin you for any other man. He spits on his gloved palm, reaching down to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves. He can feel your walls fluttering everything he rubs small circles against your clit. He can feel that you were close and quickens his pace.

He grunts, "You keep saying no..." he collects the growing slick from your folds, "But the body never lies..." he juts his hips. A stray of curses escapes his lips as changes pace. He presses his sturdy body against yours. His embrace was suffocating. Tommy only seemed to care for his own comfort, reveling in the feeling of a tight cunt. He tilts his head to face your ear, "When your husband finds out you've already been used..." he has a way to torment with words alone, "You will always remember this...remember me..." he slows his pace, now thrusting deep and slow. He's focused on making you come undone. He wants to be your first everything.

Tommy whispers, "...You’ll remember your first time, being taken by a filthy gangster,” he rasps, licking a stripe against the shell, "First fuck..." he forces your mouth to part, delving his tongue deep inside. He swirls the muscle around, taking his sweet time tasting the corners of your mouth. He muffles your whimpers in the kiss, parting with a smack, "First kiss..." his hand now rubs your sensitive nerves in short, hard circles, "First time coming undone..." he doesn't stop, not even after the waves of pleasure hits you, "All mine..."

Although you were the enemy, you have a snatch that could drain his balls dry. Tommy juts his hips back and forth, feeling for a good rhythm. He grunts against your neck, dipping his tongue out to taste those sweet tears. He moans, "You're going to take every, fucking, drop," thrusting his hips with each word. Just how he likes it, "'Gonna make you pay me back yeah?" he whispers.

Tommy fastens his pace. His breathing becomes ragged, to the point where he can only speak in short curses. He bites down on your shoulder, enough to draw blood. When he finishes inside, part of you felt almost grateful he was finally done. That spark of hope quickly dies out when he starts pressing his tip against your ring.

You've never screamed so hard in your life. You almost feel dizzy from how much pain you were in. Almost passing out a few times. Your comfort doesn't matter to him. After all, you're his property. Tommy locks an arm around your neck, squeezing hard enough to make you faint. You went limp as he began pummeling your channel. It was euphoric to him, seeing the enemy suffering.

Usually, he wouldn't feel this satisfied, not even with a killing, it was more of a chore for him. But this? There was no other pleasure like it, and Tommy Shelby has had a lot of sex. He leaves your bruised and battered body on the cold floor. Blood and spunk oozes from both holes. Tommy begins to dress himself. He doesn't even bother to look at you.

Only when he retrieves a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping it against your mound. He presses the fabric against the abused holes, scooping out its contents before pocketing it. He'll need this for later. Tommy doesn't feel any shame or remorse, he can't seem to feel anything. He takes a drag after a fuck like that. It helps him think. What to do, what to do, his options are endless.

There you are, his pet, still panting from earlier like some bitch in heat. He's still riding that adrenaline rush. You on the other hand, were out of it. Mentally and physically. Unable to even whimper because you had lost your voice a while ago.

Tommy crouches down, peering at your expressionless face. He mentally captures this moment, enjoying that foggy look in your eyes. He hums, "Let's get you cleaned up," he splashes a bucket of ice-cold water on you. He leaves you now soaking from head-to-toe. Your undergarments now cling onto your skin, leaving little to the imagination. Tommy forces you to stand. He held you up by the back of your neck with a firm grip, leading the way outside.

A group of onlookers see what's happening. Tommy Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, parading a poor woman who had been stripped of her modesty. He doesn't bother covering your face. He wants people to recognize you. They don’t speak up, afraid of would happen if they would. He hands the bloodied napkin to one of his men, "For the parents," perhaps this will send a message.

Tommy clicks open the trunk, shoving you inside. He slams it shut before driving off to a new location. He knows that word will spread. Soon enough, it'll reach your family's ears. If it's a war they want, then it's a war they'll get. He's not worried at all about what would happen, he knows he has the high ground. He's going to enjoy watching your clan die out.

But for now, he needs to smuggle his new pet out of the city.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Carrion in Shadow

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Eula x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Dub/Con, AMAB!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Injury, Oral Sex/Facesiting, Slight Choking, Slight Breeding, and Controlling Behavior.

[Part Two]

You loved her.

You couldn’t be sure when, but at some point, you’d decided that not only did you love Eula, but that your love for her was going to be the defining fact of your existence; the air you breathed, the light behind your eyes, the blood that flowed through your veins. Some time last night, most likely – when the first wolf crossed that intangible barrier and realized you weren’t in a state to fight back, or later on, when the cold and the blood loss turned your body numb and hollow and all you could think about was when she’d come back. It’d never occurred to you to hope someone else might come to your rescue, and you were never desperate enough to genuinely try to free yourself (an idea which, even from the beginning, you must’ve subconsciously known was delusional). She’d been your sole idol, your only object of worship during the eternity that’d been the night before. Eula had always been good at that �� making you forget there was a world beyond you and her.

That might’ve been why you loved her so much. How you knew you really did love her, despite everything you might’ve tried to convince yourself over the course of your relationship.

You needed her, and you couldn’t need someone you didn’t love.

The feeling of her blunt nails raking through your hair drew you out of your thoughts, an airy moan doing away with your ability to think altogether. Her knees were planted on either side of your head, her muscular thighs caging you in as her cunt ground lazily against your open mouth, your flattened tongue. The lack of oxygen left black spots dancing across your vision, but you tried to focus, to keep your attention on what mattered – Eula. In the dim light of her tent, you could only see the vaguest traces of her expression, but you could tell that her lips were turned upward, her eyes half-lidded. Her pace was slow, patient, whatever pleasure she was chasing set at a measured distance. You had to swallow the temptation to silently wish she’d just be rough with you and get it over with.

She was trying to be gentle, tonight, and you had to be thankful for that. The material of her tent was thin, the forest still enough to make any disturbance impossible to ignore, and she was making an effort to stay quiet, to limit herself to the occasional airy groan, to save you the utter humiliation of having to meet the knowing, sleepless eyes of the knights under her command. You’d thought, at first, that she might be wary of your reopening your lasting injuries, but that wasn’t likely. She’d spent most of the time you’d wasted fading in and out of consciousness lingering by your side, running her thumb over the ragged edges of your bandages and savoring your little, pained reactions. Eula wouldn’t hurt you – you didn’t hurt people you loved – but she liked to think of herself as your protector. It was only natural that she’d cherish any evidence that there was a threat you would need her to protect you from.

A mix of arousal and saliva dripped down your chin, from the corner of your mouth, and she pulled away from you with a breathy sigh. You moved to sit up, to chase after her, but the hand in your hair drifted to your chest and pushed you flat against her makeshift bed, the gesture not especially forceful but enough to send a pang of pure agony through your shoulder and down your spine. Your eyes clenched shut, but if Eula noticed how you withered, her only reaction was a slight laugh, a fleeting kiss pressed into your forehead. “Rest, sweetheart.” It was an order – albeit one spoken under her breath, affection heavy in her voice. You obeyed without question, and Eula rewarded you with a soft hum, a cool palm pressed into your bruised cheek. “I couldn’t sleep last night, you know. Not without you.”

Her hand curled around your shaft – hold steady and delicate. You were hard, despite the part of yourself that still resisted the urge to do anything that’d feed into her fantasies, but she still took the time to grind the heel of her palm against the base of your cock, to pump her hand over your length until you stiffened beneath her, your hips jolting stiltedly into her touch. “It’s easier when I know you’re safe in the city, but having to leave you out there, all alone in the wilderness…” She let out a dry laugh. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her clouded eyes found yours through the darkness. You tried to hold yourself still, to turn yourself into something quiet and pliable she could use to her satisfaction, but it would’ve been impossible to hold back your voice as she sunk onto you, to swallow the cracked whimper that escaped as her hips locked against yours. While her cunt clenched hot and tight around your cock, she let her head lull back, her hips roll idly against yours as two fingers fell to her clit. “I think—” Her voice was cut off by a bubbling moan, a wide smile. “I’ll have you write me letters when I leave the city, after this. Once a day, if not more, to make sure you’re where you should be.”

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. Your fists balled around the fur of the pelts underneath you, but you couldn’t stop your hips from rutting against her, the air catching in your throat and blocking off your better judgement. “E-Eula, please, I—”

“You’re right, that might not be enough.” Now, now, she moved faster, her hand curling around your throat, palm pressing against your windpipe. You needed to pull out of her, but she was already buckling against you, her chest pressing into yours and her mouth ghosting over the side of your neck. “We should break one of your legs. It’ll be our little reminder, just to make sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

Her eyes brightened, catching the moonlight through some unseen tear in her tent. You reminded yourself, not for the first time since you’d made your decision, that you loved Eula more than you feared her. That you had to love Eula. That you didn’t have another choice.

“We should start a family.”

You opened your mouth, jerking upward, but her grip tightened, rendering you trapped and silent. You started to fight it, to try to scream, but as your eyes met hers and her smile broadened into fanged grin and instantly, you went limp.

You couldn’t fight against Eula. You couldn’t afford to.

You loved her. You needed her.

Honestly, you were starting to think there wasn’t really a difference.

[imagineanime2022]

Cursed Siblings

Ryomen Sukuna X Sibling!Reader

Word Count: 1524

Requested: @imperatrizpirata

Request: hello everything is fine? I love your post, can I request jujutsu kaisen again? with the female reader being a curse and ryomen sukuna's older sister? the reader also saves jumpei from mahito (but the reader wants to use jumpei to be his new vessel). Thank you in advance…

Warning: Cannon divergence, still cannon deaths

A/N: the moment that I saw this request I was super excited to write it, I hope that it lives up to what you were thinking about and let me know if you want me to right a part 2 because I would totally be interested in doing that.

You were sick of the human bodies that you had taken, you had been around since the Heian Era, everyone knew your brother Ryomen Sukuna, he held their attention and therefore their rage when they came to take back their freedom and kill the biggest threat. The jujutsu sorcerers of that era knew very little of you and quickly forgot about you when your brother’s memory faded too.

You watched the world change around you, you changed with it, having to take a number of different host bodies, all genders, body types and ethnicity. It was getting boring though being the way that you were, stagnant in a moving world, you were established and had been for a long while as the danger in the forest, humans built a story around you, summoning you with a ritual allowed them to ask you for 1 wish in return for something from them and for the most part that was right however not many people were smart enough add the clause of actually enjoying their wish before you take your price and you were always in need of a new body.

The modern world was no different, in fact humans were more vain and your job had become more boring than it had been in a long time… Well until you felt it, your brother’s power surged across the city, someone had become his vessel, so you waited but he never came looking for you.

“You're the curse that they call wish granter?” One of the curses asked, he had light blue hair stitches that covered his face. “You curses should definitely know me by a different name.” Your muttered cheek rested against your fist as you looked down at them. “(Y/N) sibling to Sukuna.” You looked over at the body the voice had come from, it was dead, you knew that much, the curse was in the head of the body. “What do you want?” You asked. “This is Sukuna’s sibling, the one you were talking about, they don’t seem so dangerous.” The first one whined and you narrowed your eyes, a simple movement from your hand, he was pinned to the floor with a force no one could see but everyone could feel. “The lack of patience runs in the family. Do not test me, speak quickly, if I lose focus he dies painfully.” You warned them. “I am Kenjaku and we intend to bring your brother back to his former glory.” He said as he stepped forward. “You insult him by even thinking he would need your help.” You muttered as you looked over them. “A curse born from the fear of volcanoes, a curse born of nature's fear of man, a curse born of human fear of each other, a curse born of the fear of water based natural disasters and their puppet master.” You appeared before each of them as you listed them settling in a place before Kenjaku. “I assure you we are more than that.” Kenjaku promised. “What are you doing here?” You asked. “Sukuna is known to be unpredictable-” “You think he would be more likely to join you?” You asked. “They don’t call him a king for nothing, he will join no one.” “He’s currently trapped within a particularly strong teenager, a vessel I made to contain his power, under the watchful six eyed sorcerer.” The curse under your technique explained and you smirked. “And you're convinced that it will stay that way without your help?” You asked. “I know it will be with Gojo Satoru watching.” Kenjaku said and you shook your head. “Naive.” You muttered before lifting the cursed technique “leave before I kill you myself.”

You were out again, you hadn’t been bothered by those curses again but equally you hadn’t felt your brother’s power either, you hadn’t expected to when the curse womb made itself known but there he was. “Must you terrorise all life?” You asked leaning against the tree as you watched him fight the poor teenager. “I’m giving him the chance to save his friend.” Sukuna smirked as he looked at you, still easily dodging him. “You look well.” “I’m bored, you took your time coming back.” You sighed as he smirked. “You miss me?” He asked. “Missed the chaos, not you.” You answered “but you won’t be around for much longer, this one's clawing back.” “Hm.” Sukuna grunted. “Use the time to make a pact, a vessel made to contain your power is probably more brawn than brains right?” You asked. “You always were too smart for your own good.” Sukuna muttered and you shrugged. “Wait for me, I’ll bring the fun soon.” He promised. “I should hope so I haven’t waited this long hoping from body to body for you to fail me.” You said kicking yourself off of the tree trunk. “Get to work I’ll only wait for so much longer.”

You had decided to look for a new vessel or curse user to bind yourself to in preparation for your brother returning, you knew that you needed someone a little more vulnerable then the average, someone that you can ‘help’ and then manipulate, your brother loved ruling with it, inspiring it. You much preferred manipulation into loyalty if a subject thought that they owed you something they were far more likely to choose you when they were asked, that was what led you to Junpei in the first place. You started small bumping into him on the street apologising to him, holding a door for him or grumbling at people who caused him some kind of inconvenience, you didn’t need to be a big part of his life not yet, he just needed to know you. Your plan was ruined when Mahito latched onto him far faster than you planned to do and talked him into attacking his school but you managed to use that to your advantage.

“Help… Me.” He pleaded as he looked at the kid that was your brother’s vessel, you could hear the boy begging as Mahito laughed and you assumed that Sukuna was laughing too. “Alright that’s enough of that.” You muttered using your cursed energy to slam Mahito against the wall on the other side of the hall as you walked towards the transfigured human. “Hey you remember me right?” “Mhm.” He hummed almost like it was painful to do so, you reached out a hand touching his cheek and using your reversed curse technique to bring him back to his original form. “Thank you.” Junpei looked over at Mahito on the other side of the hall. “I could protect you from everything, if you wanted, I’ve seen you around, you're a sweet boy and you don’t deserve what has happened to you.” You explained. “Can you save my mum?” He asked. “She’s already passed?” You asked. “Yes.” He answered. “I can not reverse death.” You answered with a soft sigh. “I have no one left.” His eyes watered as he looked at you. “Do you want a friend that can never leave you, one that depends on you the same way that you depend on them?” You asked. “Y-you?” He asked. “Me.” You nodded, putting your hand out “state your terms and I will state mine then we confirm the deal by connecting our hands.” “I want you to protect me from any harm, stay by my side and be my friend, one that comes when I call.” He stated and you smiled. “I want the freedom to use my power how I see fit, to work with my brother when he asks and the ability to take control when I say the word activate.” You explained wiggling your fingers as you waited for him to accept. “Junpei don’t!” Yuji yelled. “Don’t worry Yuji, I’ll be okay, they’ll keep me safe.” He smiled through tears as he took your hand finalising the deal, the body you were in dropped to the floor as you took up the place of Junpei's bonded spirit. The pulse of energy seemed to call sorcerers in the area because by the time Junpei and Yuji had gotten downstairs the six eyes user and another sorcerer were waiting. “Yuji what happened?” The six eyes user asked but his eyes moved to where you were hanging over Junpei’s shoulder. “You can see me, can't you six eyes?” You asked. “Who are you?” He asked. “You know that already, think harder.” You teased. “You thought I was bad in this form.” Sukuna’s voice emitted from somewhere on Yuji’s body “no one ever talked about my older sibling but they should have, they were the one that taught me what I know and always reminded me that there was so much that they hadn’t taught me.” “You flatter me little brother.” You waved him off as you rested your chin on Junpei’s shoulder. “You have no need to worry about me yet…” “Uhh this is going to be even harder to explain to the higher ups, they’re going to think I’m doing this on purpose.” He groaned. “Time to tell them that the cursed siblings are back.”

*Part 2*

Request Here!!

[scoobydoodean]

ELEANOR: The demon I could've handled, but when the angel stepped in, I - I told him, Bobby. They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.

Cas pops in right after Elenor dies from the torture Crowley and Cas inflicted on her. Cas immediately shifts the blame onto Crowley even though Eleanor said he was the real terror.

CASTIEL: I'm sorry this had to happen. Crowley got carried away. BOBBY: Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley you son of a bitch!

Sam and Dean have to hold Bobby back. He and Eleanor had a romantic relationship in the past.

Dean again appeals to Cas's conscience (or rather, his lack of one):

DEAN: You don't even see it, do you? How totally off the rails you are!

This season, Dean has seen Cas torture a child. Cas has used Dean without permission as bait and for a spell. Cas knew Crowley was forcing Sam and Dean to work for him after a certain point and allowed it to continue until he couldn't anymore because they were going to kill each other. Cas killed Lenore simply because trying to convince her to just lay low for a while was too inconvenient. Last episode, Balthazar told Sam and Dean that Cas's plan relied on Cas being able to sustain the energy of all the souls he planned to consume, and there was a high likelihood he'd fail and blow up the world. Balathazar tells Cas this too, but Cas's only reponse is too demand Balthazar's loyalty without ever addressing his concern. He ignores it because it doesn't support his narrative of how this will all go—how Cas needs it to go. Cas has abandoned so many of his convictions at this point just to prove that he was right to go down this path to begin with. He just tortured someone to the point of death and he's about to do more.

CASTIEL: Enough! I don't care what you think.

And yet lying to them all season was explicitly because he did care what they thought. He knew they wouldn't like what he was up to. He knew Balthazar wouldn't like it either and lied to him too, and to Rachel and the other angels. All because he was ashamed.

CASTIEL: I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen.

This is code for "I told you how things would go and that there was no discussion to be had and you didn't fall in line". Now the threats:

CASTIEL: So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again. DEAN: Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer. CASTIEL: I wish it hadn't come to this.

No one is making him do this. What he's about to do is a choice he is making that no one is forcing him to make. Even if he wanted Sam and Dean out of his way, he could have done any number of things other than this. In fact, he could have done other things that were arguably much more effective. He only needed to delay them for 24 hours. He could have flown them to the other side of the world and left them there. He could have locked them in a prison. He could have knocked them unconscious. He could have even made them forget, which would have also been cruel, but it would have been more effective. But the path he chooses is breaking Sam's mind.

CASTIEL: Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.

Whereas in the previous episode, we can reasonably argue that Cas's words come out wrong and he doesn't actually mean to imply that he'll save Lisa only if Dean does as Cas tells him to do, in this case... we can't argue that. He is explicitly telling Dean that he's going to destroy Sam's mind, and that Sam's mind will remain broken even after all of this is over if Dean doesn't do as he's told.

Cas is trying—not as effectively as he knows how, but rather as cruelly as he knows how—to bring Dean to heel. He chooses this action even though it's arguably less effective than other things he could do because he wants to not just control but also punish Dean for disloyalty and disobedience. Dean returned Sam's soul behind Cas's back after Cas told him not to in 6.10 with ulterior motives. Breaking Sam's mind in this specific way is another way of proving that Cas is right and that Dean should have listened to him. Cas makes the thing he was worried would happen—happen to punish Dean for not listening to him. It's honestly incredible that their relationship recovered, especially with all the personal experiences Dean has with angels specifically trying to force him to comply with their demands via force and threats.