#*​grabbing you all by the shoulders and shaking violently* the symbolism! the colors! he’s good! he’s good! he’s good!

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

Thinking about Dazai’s clothes…the black pm jacket, the way it falls off as he runs to odasaku, the tan jacket he chooses to wear in the ADA, the white uniform he’s wearing now

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

@loosingdreams@sayosdreams@audreycressworth@cyra04@that-golden-lyre@nessiantrashh@misswonderflower@dontgetsalmonella@caram267@bickbickbarnes@sabrinasam-blog

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan Part 42! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

While Draxum and the rest of the clan discussed their options, April had to get away. Her heart was still pounding in her head and the medicine she took had yet to have any effects to relieve the pain and sickness. Cassandra and Sunita had patched her up well, cleansing and soothing the abrasions caused by the too-tight ropes that had held her. The pain in those spots had simmered to a soft ache, but seemed to agitate the rest of her normal pains.

She felt hot; too hot. She sought shelter in the bathroom the moment she was out from under the protective eye of the turtles. Chugging from the sink like it was the fountain of youth did little to quell the building head, so she took the thermometer from the medicine cabinet.

“103…” She whistled when the results came back, “That’s high…”

After a long moment of debate, April decided that a nap might do her good. She had been up too long and if she didn't get some sleep soon then her body would force her to. One moment she was mostly fine, opening the door so that she could leave the cool shelter of the bathroom. Then she was on her knees, keeled over and clutching her head as it exploded with violent fervor. She bit down on her lip to prevent a scream from escaping as her mind was drilled into by the relentless pressure.

Then she was running. Her legs were burning but she couldn’t stop. Another throb. Rain pounded against her skin. Another throb. A power was in her hands unlike any other, ripping through the fabric of time itself. Another throb. More pressure. More pain.

“April…”

April gasped and looked around. The throbbing ceased momentarily, but soon returned with a sharp vengeance.

“Karai…” That voice had been unmistakable. It was in Japanese, but April was so fluid in the language that she hardly registered the difference. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

Was that April’s voice? That raspy, weak voice that came from her lips without the permission of her mind?

“You can…” Karai’s voice called again, “You just have to find me…”

April forced herself to her feet. Another throb. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Another throb. She made her way back into the bathroom, the cool tile practically calling out to her. Another throb. Running again. Her legs felt numb and useless as she pulled herself onto the sink to look in the mirror. What she found staring back at her was her reflection, like one would expect in a mirror. She didn't know why she stared at it for so long until, at once, what was so enrapturing about the double caught her full attention. The likeness had one flaw in it, one difference separating it from her true image and catching her attention in full.

Her eyes were green. Not faint either— practically glowing!

“Karai…” April breathed.

“Why are you upset?” The voice of Karai was slow and even.

April was furious. She tightened her grip on the shower basin until her hands were shaking as much as the rest of her.

“Karai, ever since you left me with your mark, I’ve been sick!” April snarled; the heat of her body escaped in her voice, her boiling temper releasing hot, scalding steam into her words. “I can hardly eat— hardly sleep! My chest is always burning!” April clung at the scar on her chest.

“You’re making yourself sick.” Was Karai’s gentle answer, “Why are you fighting me? Our memories—“

“Your memories. They aren’t mine!” April screamed; she didn't care if the others heard her. This was her first opportunity to talk to Karai and she had so much to say. “I don’t want them!”

“They’re just going to keep pounding if you don’t welcome them to pass.”

April fell from the sink. Her body hardly felt the impact. Another powerful throb; another overwhelming memory.

“I don’t like it…” She practically sobbed.The cold of the tile was welcoming and she didn't think she had strength enough to stand.

“I don’t like it either…” Karai’s voice followed her, “When you hurt, I hurt. My essence is in you. It will hurt, but until you welcome my memories, the evil in our world will continue to rage…”

April seized with a vision. An evil, horrible creature with tendril reaching over the land. Grabbing, ensnaring, crushing. Laughing. A name rang in her head— at least that’s what she could only assume it was. Krang. Bishop had mentioned that name to her. Was that this creature? This monstrous creature?

“Accept the memories, April O’neil…” Karai’s words soothed the burn of the evil vision— or was it a memory? “And share them with your brothers so that they may remember as well. Only then can you defeat the evil.”

April couldn't hold it back anymore. Karai had told her not to! And with the promise of this pressure, this pain, leaving her forever in peace… April let the memories overwhelm her.

April didn't recognize where she was. The world changed between blinks and she was in an open field. Long grass tickled at her feet and wind danced through her hair. Once her eyes had settled and accepted this new and sudden reality, she was able to make out more details of the space. It wasn’t just a field; it was a village! Most of the houses were dilapidated and broken, without a villager in sight to inhabit what must have once been beautiful houses. She walked over to the closest one, tracing her finger along the destroyed stone. It looked like it had been slashed by something— something big!

Then she saw Karai. She called out to the woman, but no answer came. The kunoichi didn't even seem to notice her.

“Of course…” April said, looking at the transparentness of her hands, “This is a memory…”

Her voice echoed in her head like a haunting melody. She looked back to Karai and found an additional four soldiers standing around her in a formation that was all to familiar to April. She looked down at her hamato symbol, the five dots surrounded by a circle of protection, and then back up to the soldiers that held the same pattern on their robes. One human woman and four kappa— four turtles!

Red, orange, blue, and purple skin, with darker hair of the same color around a water dish on their heads. Wrapped under their chin and over their water dish were bonnets with their designated colors, protecting the sensitive space from spilling any of their precious lifewater. They were small creatures, the tallest standing barely four feet, but still they all came together, forming around the green kunochi with weapons in hands. Weapons April recognized because her turtles had the same weapons! Or, at least they did before they were destroyed by Draxum’s goons. Sai, nunchaku, katana, and bo, all wielders ready to fight something that April didn't see until she looked up.

“Shredder…” April breathed. Of course it was Shredder…

One by one, the four kappa and the kunoichi ignited in ninja nimpo; April could feel the powers radiating from them as their once normal weapons took on the mystic properties as extensions of their owners. The kunochi led the charge with the kappa at her side, fighting against the power of the Ancient Shredder. Dash, dodge, strike. Powerful weapons igniting through the night, illuminating the dark in an endless rainbow of mystic potential. Through the night and into the day the conflict was fought, but to April it seemed like only minutes, maybe even seconds, passed. Then came a green rift forged by a green sword. Just like that, Karai and The Shredder were lost together, but the kappa remained.

April gasped in a cool breath. A cool breath that brought no pain to her. No burning, no pressure. Just a sweet, blissful breath, like one that came after a long needed stretch and yawn. The long sought relief washed over her, waves cooling on a burning day. April’s eyes shot open when the euphoria wore away.

“Wait— no!” April looked around, trying to find any hint of Karai. Some faint green glow in a reflection— some powerful flutter in her chest! “That can’t be it! Don’t I get to see what happens to them yokai?! Haven’t I earned that?!”

Karai’s laugh made April sigh; that meant the kunoichi was still there, hopefully somewhere April could see her. She kept looking around as Karai talked, trying to find any glimmer of green.

“April, you cannot see a memory that I wasn’t there to witness…”

April spotted a green reflection. Like a cat with a laser light, she dove to try and catch a glimpse of the ninja’s reflection. Karai’s image was gone just as quickly. April groaned at the near-victory.

“Then why’d you show it to me in the first place?” April huffed, leaning on her head on her hand.

“Now you know the first piece…” Another green shimmer, passing from the porcelain sink to the barely reflection in the tile. “You can unlock the rest.”

“Unlock the rest?” April’s face crinkled. She tried to pounce on the light again, but once more it was gone.

“Yes…” Karai’s voice was behind her now; when April turned, of course, there was nothing there. Still, she felt a hand on her shoulder, even as she stared through nothing. “The Shredder was trapped first so he could be destroyed later, and Krang must follow the same pattern…”

[sheerfreesia007]

What’d You Wish For?

Title: What’d You Wish For?

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 2,873

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​

Teen Wolf Tag List: @linkpk88​, @pure-ghost​, @awkwardnesshabitat​

Author Notes: I can’t explain how much I enjoyed writing this one. It was just so sweet and fluffy. I mean, ugh I want a Stiles. I hope you all enjoy!

Gif Credit: Google

"Dude, I don't know if she actually wants to celebrate her birthday this year. She hasn't really said anything about it." Scott said in a whisper as him and Stiles stood in front of your locker armed with wrapping paper, confetti and what looked like an accordion spring.

"Who doesn't want to celebrate their birthday? Girls are different Scottie, they'll say they don't want to do something but really they do. They just want the guys to do the work." Stiles said as he dropped his backpack and began pulling out the tape and scissors.

"Like they're testing us?" Scott asked confused and Stiles nodded his head before gesturing violently to the locked locker. Scott jumped into action and began quickly spinning your lock.

"She said she doesn't want the attention but when has she ever said no to us? I mean we're her best friends she's gonna love this." Stiles said confidently as they began their work for your birthday tomorrow.

 "Oh my god Lydia, I hate this." You hissed when you walked down the hallway and spotted your locker. It was wrapped in birthday wrapping paper that was black with multicolored balloons. Lydia snickered softly next to you as the two of you came to stand in front of your locker. "I'm going to kill them. I told Scott I didn't want all of this. I had hoped he'd be able to curb Stiles." You said with a loud groan.

"They love you and birthdays are a big deal. Especially to Stiles. You know that boy is head over heels for you. Plus I think it's sweet." She said with a head tilt.

"No he's not, don't say that." You chastised quickly. Lydia knew about your crush on your best friend and had been constantly been bringing up that he was in love with you. You didnt believe her even though you desperately wished she was right. "Well if you think it's so sweet I'm gonna sick them on you when it's your birthday." You threatened and smirked when you saw her eyes widen.

"Don't you dare." She gasped out. Laughing you turned from her to begin opening your locker. When you had gotten the lock undone you easily opened your locker only to be surprised as something sprung out at you and confetti seemed to explode into the air around you raining down all over. You heard a soft snicker next to you and whipped your head to glare at Lydia before turning back to the contraption in front of you. There was brightly colored birthday card attached to a spring and what looked like a little container that had probably held the confetti. "It's a cute look on you." Lydia said trying to hold in her laughter as she began picking some of the confetti out your hair.

"You were supposed to wait!" Shouted a familiar voice that had you turning while you were still in your daze. Long arms wrapped around you and crushed your body to a taller one in a tight hug. "Happy Birthday! I'm sorry we weren't here to see you open your locker. We overslept."

"Gee, I wonder why." You quipped out sarcastically and Lydia laughed softly behind you as you looked up at Stiles. He looked down at you with a bright happy smile that melted away your annoyance at your two best friends. Lydia was right, it was sweet that they went through all this trouble just for you. Your eyes looked to the side and saw a sheepish looking Scott and you grinned before stepping towards him and pulling him into a hug.

"You're not upset?" He asked softly in your ear as he returned your hug.

"A little but I'll get over it. Thank you." You said with a shrug.

"Happy Birthday." He said warmly and tightened his hold on you.

"Alright, alright break it up it's present time." Stiles said quickly and you turned to him shaking your head.

"Stiles I thought we said no gifts this year." You complained and watched as he shook his head.

"They're little things and under twenty bucks. Stop bitching." He responded quickly before shoving a gift bag at you. "Open mine first."

You began to look down at his bag but was quickly distracted by a length of braid black leather coming over your head. Your eyes immediately focused on the silver charm that was the symbol of your pack and you gasped softly.

"No, she'll get mine first." Scott said from behind you and Stiles huffed loudly. "It's only fair I gotta work tonight so you two are on your own for celebrating." You nodded your head at Stiles and he grinned over at you excitedly. "I made this myself. You're part of the original trio and since I can't convince you or Stiles to get a tattoo I had to find other ways to have the symbol in your life."

         “I love it.” you say softly as you hold the pendant in your palm to examine it a little closely. “Thank you so much Scott!” you say happily and turn around to hug him once more.

         “Alright now it’s my turn. Since Scottie jumped the line.” Stiles said from behind you and you smiled turning to him. He handed you the gift bag, you smiled when you noticed that it was your favorite color teal with gold tissue paper sticking out of it. You opened the bag and moved the tissue paper to the side to see inside. Gasping softly you pulled out a small wolf stuffed animal and a new notebook that had a manatee design on the front of it.

         You looked up at Stiles and saw he was looking down at the floor uncertainty. You stepped forward and hugged him tightly around his waist, your new gifts were squished in between the two of you but you didn’t mind. They were thoughtful gifts and you loved them.

         “I love them Stiles.” you said softly into his flannel.

         “I got you the wolf because of Scott but the notebook is because you’re my detective partner and I know your last notebook is almost full and you’re gonna need a new one if we’ve got more supernatural trouble coming.” he explained to you as he held you tightly.

         “I love them.” you repeated and hugged him tighter. Since your head was buried in his chest you didn’t see the knowing looks from Scott and Lydia directed as Stiles who shook his head at them. When you pulled away you laughed softly when you spotted some of the confetti had transferred onto Stiles’ shirt. “You look good in confetti.” you said and everyone laughed around you.

         “You do too.” Stiles responded with a soft smirk. He then gestured for Scott to lock your locker and led you down the hallway to your first class. 

           It was the end of the day finally and as you stood at your locker collecting your books for homework and the gifts that Stiles had given you, you felt a presence next to you making you turn your head to see Scott and Stiles standign there with wide smiles on their faces.

         “Happy Birthday again! I’m sorry I can’t celebrate with you tonight but we’ll celebrate tomorrow when I don’t have work.” Scott said as he hugged you and nodded.

         “It’s no big deal Scottie. We’ve got tomorrow to hang out and celebrate. I just like hanging out with the two of you for my birthday.” you said kindly and he smiled and nodded his head once he had pulled away. Scott patted Stiles on the shoulder as he passed the taller teen and you looked over at him with a smile.

         “You ready birthday girl? I got some plans for us.” he said excitedly and you laughed softly at him nodding your head.

         “Lead the way!” you cheered and Stiles fist pumped in the air and grabbed your hand tugging you out of the school to the parking lot.

           It was hours later and the sun had finally set to reveal the dark night sky dotted with stars. Stiles has taken you to your favorite fast food place and the two of you had sat in the restaurant eating and talking. Your conversation had flowed easily and uninterrupted as you talked about the supernatural, school, life and anything else the two of you could think of to talk about. 

         It had always been this easy between you and Stiles, the friendship and companionship was something that you cherished greatly. And while you held romantic feelings for him you knew you would never have the guts to act on them because you were too afraid of losing the bond you had with him. So as the two of you sat in his trusty jeep and he drove out to the preserve you idly chatted about things.

         “So now that you’re technically an adult, what should be the first thing you do as an adult?” Stiles asked as he tapped the digital clock display on his dash. You looked over to him surprised.

         “You remember what time I was born?” you asked in shock as your eyebrows furrowed softly. He smiled sheepishly and ducked his head as he turned into the preserve and steered the jeep to your favorite outlook point.

         “Well yeah, I mean, I remember yours and Scott’s birthday down to the time because you two are my best friends. And it’s always nice to remember when the two most important people in my life came into this life.” he said a little embarrassed.

         “Wow.” you said softly and then a wide grin spread across your face. “Didn’t know you were that sentimental Stilinski.” you teased softly before grabbing onto his hand closest to you and linking your fingers together. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel special.” you said softly and smiled warmly over to him. You tilted your head slightly when your eyes caught onto the soft blush that graced his cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders and kept your hands interlocked while he continued driving.

         When he came up to the outlook point he parked the jeep and you unwound your hands so that you could exit the jeep. You were still thinking about the question he had asked you before and as you came to stand in front of the jeep and lean back on the hood your eyes darted up to the sky to see all the stars above you. Suddenly you knew what your first adult action would be. 

         Stiles came to stand next to you and you could see he was putting something in his pants pocket before he smiled widely at you and wrapped his arms around you in a loose hug. Smiling warmly you snuggled into his embrace. It was moments like these that you had continuously remind yourself that Stiles was just your best friend and nothing more even though you wanted him to be.

         “So I’ve decided what my first adult action is going to be.” you said softly and Stiles pulled away a little to be able to look down at you expectantly. “I wanna wish on a shooting star.” The grin that overtook his face was contagious and he nodded his head at you before looking up at the sky with you.

         “Alright so game plan is to find you a shooting star to wish on. I think we can manage that.” he said confidently and you laughed softly. The two of you fell silent as you stood in his arms, both of you staring up at the sky watching for shooting stars. Just then his hand gripped your hip and your eyes darted over to the shooting star that was streaking across the sky. Your eyes shut quickly and you made a wish. I want to always be this happy with him for the rest of our days. The wish came to you easily and as you thought it you knew that it would always come true. 

         Opening your eyes you turned your head and saw Stiles was staring down at you with a warm smile on his face. He grinned when your eyes connected and he pulled away slightly to reach into his jeans pocket. “Did you make a wish?” he asked softly and you nodded with your own grin on your face.

         “Yup. Can’t tell you though, just in case it won’t come true. Though I don’t see that being a problem.” you said teasingly.

         “Well now I wanna know what the wish was since you’re so confident it’ll come true.” he said questioningly. You tilted your head again to him and then smiled before deciding to go out on a limb and tell.

         “I wished that I’d always be this happy with you for the rest of our days.” you said softly to him and watched his eyes widen and his breath get stuck in his throat.

         “Well, that’s definitely better than the wish I made on my birthday last month when I blew out my candles.” he said with a self deprecating laugh.

         “And what did you wish for?” you asked softly frowning at his low self-esteem.

         “That I would have the guts to finally tell you how I felt about you.” he answered in a whisper. You felt your eyes widen and looked at him expectantly.

         “A-and how do you feel about me?” you stuttered out to him watching as he moved closer and held up his left hand to you. In his palm was a small white box with a tiny top. You furrowed your eyebrows again and took the box from him once he’d nodded his head at it. You lifted the lid and gasped softly when you looked inside. A simple sterling silver band laid inside the box with your nickname engraved on the outside of it.

         “I’ve been in love with you since middle school when the three of us all went to the spring dance together and you got all dressed up in that pretty teal dress. You went all out even when it was just me and Scott.” he explained softly to you. You laughed softly and shook your head slightly.

         “I went all out because of you, Stiles.” you said in a whisper and darted your eyes up to see his had widened with an adoring soft look in them.

         “I wish I’d known that a long time ago.” he murmured and you grinned softly. “On the inside of the ring,” he began to explain as you pulled it from the box and set the box on the hood of the jeep. “Is the date that I fell in love with you.” he said softly. Gasping you turned the ring so that you could see the date of the spring dance and you smiled at the ring. 

         Stiles hands came up shakily to take the ring from you and slipped it onto your thumb finger. You grinned knowing he had done it specifically this way because you had once mentioned to him that you wanted to have a thumb ring eventually. You just hadn’t ever figured out what ring you wanted on your thumb. Tilting your head upwards to him you saw he was already watching you.

         “I’m in love with you too Stiles. Have been since the year before the spring dance.” you explained with a warm smile on your face. Stiles rested his forehead on yours and you both let out soft chuckles. “I love you Stiles.”

         “I love you too.” he answered and ducked his head to press his lips to yours softly in a loving chaste kiss that lasted for a few moments. When he pulled away the two of you were panting and your hands were gripping his sides as his arms were still wrapped around you. “Whoa.” he said softly and you laughed brightly making him laugh along with you.

         “I’ll say.” you quipped and he grinned before dipping his head again to steal another shorter kiss.

         “I’m not going to be able to stop doing this now that I’ve done it.” he warned you when he pulled away.

         “I don’t want you to stop. Ever. Kiss me.” you demanded and he was suddenly kissing you passionately as he pressed you up against the hood of the jeep. His hands came to cup your face and he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss further.

         “You know this makes you my girlfriend now, right?” he asked once he pulled away still cupping your face lovingly.

         “You never asked.” you gasped out softly and he groaned loudly making you chuckle.

         “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked begrudgingly and you smiled nodding your head.

         “Of course I will Stilinski.” you responded and he grinned ducking his head down again so he was so close to your face that your noses brushed together.

         “Good.” he answered and kissed you again. Your heart was soaring as the kiss went on and you wrapped your arms around his waist tugging him closer to you. Smiling through the kiss a thought fluttered through your mind, this had to be the best birthday ever.

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Yoongi’s Oneshot

Au: Mafia

Tag List: @xsunnyhoseokx  @wilhelminalucinda  @amiraclerenee @inutiledediscuter

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: I will carefully note the rating has once again turned to M but I’ll be leaving this as the only warning(unless otherwise explicitly asked) given the heavy spoilers saying all the potential triggers could provide. The only explicit triggers I’ll give in advance is involuntary drugging, grieving, and psychological trauma. Everything will also be under the cut. Authors Note at the end!!

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x reader

Genre: Drama, Crime, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 4k+

You murmured softly in your sleep, tossing and turning as you gradually grew more and more panicked. It’s a miracle you hadn’t had any night terrors after what happened. Your imagination was always quite vivid after all so you supposed you should count your blessings you’d even lasted this long. In either case, all you could see when your eyes finally shot open was white. At first you assumed you were merely adjusting to a bright light...but then it didn’t stop. Including when you moved. And a look down let you know that you were also in the silk white pajamas Yoongi had gifted you last night. All that surrounded you was pure white and you realized abruptly you clearly weren’t dreaming any longer and also had been sleeping on the floor. A quick search of the room ensued, as your eyes flicked around, searching for distinct cameras or a way out and yet...you found nothing. You refused to let yourself panic, putting together that Yoongi must have gifted you these so you’d match with the room.  

You weren’t in enemy captivity, but that didn’t mean you weren’t on edge. Taehyung’s little stunt had reminded you that these people, though often kind to you, had much more sadistic sides to themselves than you typically got to see. You vaguely recalled looking up sensory deprivation as a potential topic for a psychology project, but opted to study dream analysis instead. Lot of good that was gonna do you. You didn’t need any symbolism to know you were merely coping with your grief in your sleep since you still refused to actively show it around the others but now...that info on sensory deprivation sure would’ve been helpful. You tried to wrack your brain for any memories of what you’d looked up, but only vaguely recalled the need to keep your mind active, though you couldn’t fully remember how. Wasn’t that only for long periods of time? 

Where was Yoongi? Why was he putting you through this? You felt your breathing starting to increase, noticed you were beginning to grow paranoid and took several deep breaths, counting to 4 as you inhaled, holding for 8 and then releasing for another 4. It was a breathing technique you recalled your chorus teacher telling you to do back in high school. How was she doing? 

Your breathing finally evened out but you found your eyes were glazed over. You shook off your little stupor, tried to get back on topic. Why were you thinking about your chorus teacher right now? You had more important things to be pondering! Like what Yoongi wanted to see from you so he’d let you out. 

You began to hum absentmindedly. Closing your eyes as you welcomed the now unfamiliar blackness. You aren’t sure for how long they remained so but when next they opened you felt like it was now nighttime. How long had Yoongi left you here for? Was this some kind of punishment? Did you do something wrong? Nothing came to mind. Maybe they just finally realized you were a liability. That you’d never be as good a Nurse as your Mother.

It was then that you saw the door opening inwards and after spotting Yoongi, and blinking several times to adjust to the new colors, you literally rushed him, making him scramble to release the door and hold onto you as you shook violently for reasons you didn’t understand. Tears came spilling from your eyes faster than you could stop them and you barely managed to ask him through your sobs. 

“W-Why did you leave me there for so long!? Did I do something wrong? Please, just tell me and I’ll fix it!! N-Never do that again!” 

Yoongi looked taken aback as he forced you off him far enough away to get a good look at you and his expression morphed from one of bewilderment and shock to analysis. He knelt down, cupping your hands in his cheeks as he saw you frantically looking around at everything, as though scared you’d never see it again. You were acting like some kind of crack addict going through withdrawals. The sound of footsteps made you whip your head around but he refused to let you look, resolutely keeping your head still. 

“Focus on me and stop moving. How long do you think you were in there?”

His voice was a quiet mumble. 

“18 hours, at the least. Maybe even 24. It’s nighttime now isn’t it? Please I want to go see everyone!” 

“Y/N. You were only in there for 8 hours. You shouldn’t be experiencing this so intensely. You didn’t hear or see anything else in there did you? I need you to be completely honest with me.”

You shook your head quickly, even as you bounced on your heels. 

“Mm-mm! No,  I-” 

Before you could even finish your denial he was starting to pull up the short sleeves of your pajamas up past your shoulders and then snarling at you.

“What the fuck did you do to yourself you idiot!?” 

You looked at him in genuine confusion and he growled lowly before brushing his thumb over your bicep causing you to hiss at the sharp rush of pain that greeted you. 

“Ow, Yoongi what the Hell!?”

You looked down and realized you'd dug your nails into your arms, holding yourself during that brief, fitful sleep you'd had so tightly you'd drawn blood and caused wounds. On top of that you'd apparently continued scratching once you'd awoken, irritating the wounds even further.

"Wow that's all it took to break her? Pathetic."

Jungkook's snort made you squirm in Yoongi's grasp to look at him and this time, he let you as he was occupied examining your wounds. 

Yoongi released you with a simple nod to Jungkook before walking off. 

"Watch her."

Once you were out of his grip you hopped over to the built boy, clinging to his arm even as he jolted in surprise that quickly turned to disgust even as a surprised blush stained his cheeks pink. 

"Th-The Hell!? Get off me you freak!"

He began slowly working you off his body but you pouted and resolutely stayed on him like glue. 

"Nuh-uh!! Never thought I'd miss you being an ass but here we are! Suck it up!"

You were so focused on trying to stay attached to Jungkook you didn't hear the footsteps this time and squealed as you were tugged off by Yoongi and into his chest face first who sighed. 

"...Calm down. You're not going back in ever again. I promise. You're gonna be okay. Focus on my heartbeat and count the beats okay? Try to match your breathing to it." 

"The fuck did you do to make her all clingy and weird? You better fix her! If she's fucked in the head for when I train her-" 

"Quiet down. If you don't want to overwhelm her and make things worse I'd suggest keeping your mouth shut."

Just the two bickering was making you start to get squirmy again and Yoongi tightened his grip slightly in response while Jungkook snapped his mouth shut. Your shaking gradually started to subside to the occasional shiver as you did as Yoongi instructed, slowly being soothed by his consistent heart rate. Your breathing also started to even out, and you found yourself surprised at how slow his heartbeat was. 

He had seemed so panicked but moments earlier after all. He must have real control. 

Noticing you slightly beginning to calm, Yoongi gradually released his grip on you to look you in the eyes.

“...Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take you over to the infirmary where I’ll hand you off to Hoseok. You won’t be seeing anyone but 2 people at once for at least today and tomorrow. I’m not risking damaging your psyche further by overstimulating you right after depriving you.”

His voice was as monotone as ever but you felt the way his hand trembled slightly as he grabbed your wrist before he abruptly released you, tersely demanding you follow him instead. 

You did so, albeit slowly as you risked a glance around the room for Jungkook, only mildly surprised when you found he’d slipped out silently. 

You were more surprised he’d left quietly more than the fact that he’d abandoned you in such a state. He’d probably gone to tell Taehyung what awful shape you were in so they could laugh about how weak you were. 

Wonderful. 

You almost wished your lucidity wasn’t returning.

Gods, the way you’d clung to him like a child was so embarrassing. You could only pray given his, what you remembered to be, flustered reaction that he’d never mention it again. At least Yoongi mercifully didn’t seem focused on your display though it was mainly because he was probably more distressed by the reaction from a psychological perspective than anything as kind.

Yoongi opened the door to the infirmary for you and let you enter first before following suit. You spotted Hoseok at the large desk overlooking a window to the greenery you’d been lost in not too long ago with Taehyung, sorting different bags of powder. He looked up at your arrival and frowned as he scanned you up and down before his eyes locked on your injured shoulders and then jumped to Yoongi as he rose to his feet and made his way over. 

“The Hell did you do? I thought she was only going in the sensory deprivation room for 8 hours, how did she manage to hurt herself?” 

Yoongi sighed heavily, watching as you hugged Hoseok who recipricorated gently before he led you over to the infirmary bed nearest to you and setting you down gently. 

“She used her nails; it happened when she was sleeping apparently. I watched the whole time, but when she started sleeping I left to eat...I should’ve picked up on the signs and never put her in this situation. I thought it would be a gentle enough way to start building her mental tolerance to torture should the others ever try such a thing. You know EXO’s policy about women.” 

Hoseok grunted in acknowledgment of his words as he pulled over the metal cart with basic medical supplies he hadn't gotten around to fully cleaning since his own training session two days ago. 

“Blaming yourself isn’t going to make her better so knock off the self loathing bullshit going on in your head right now and get me a wet rag and a bucket with soap and water. I need to clean the wounds before they become infected. You may have caused this situation but you can also fix it so move your ass.”

His voice was crisp, cool and nothing like his typically cheerful self making you blink at him in delirious confusion, your alertness seemed to be fading in and out, despite your best efforts to hang onto it. Everything just seemed so overwhelming, and almost new to you. 

Yoongi listened without quarrel however and nodded before he left the room, to do what Hoseok had ordered you had to guess. 

“Alright lovey I need you to keep your eyes on mine okay? I know it’s hard to focus right now but I want to check some things.” 

His voice had changed tones again, now sweet and gentle as you knew him. You liked this version better, you decided as your eyes flicked up to meet his. 

His smile widened a bit, making his eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement. 

“I happen to prefer this side to me too. Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to let it out very often in my line of work. It’s nice for it to be genuine for once. Now; I want you to talk to me about the day you found out your Mother died. Do you think you can do that for me sweetie?”

You frowned and blearily shook your head in denial, not registering the fact that he was rubbing a wet cloth on the inside of your arm about a third of the way up, nor the fact that the area went numb and tingly. Your whole body felt numb and tingly honestly; what was one more area?

“I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

Your voice had grown small, intrusive images already making themselves known inside your mind as your frown deepened, and his smile only widened. Thanks to your gaze being locked on his you noticed when his eyes flicked to the door suddenly, making you look too in anticipation, expecting Yoongi to perhaps be entering or for someone to be there only to not notice the needle entering your arm on the other side. 

You turned back to him with a pout of confusion but swayed suddenly as the world spun. You would’ve surely fallen had you not been lying down securely in the bed. Why did you feel like you were floating? Was this normal? A part of the side effects of your brief time in the sensory deprivation chamber? 

“How are you feeling now? Ready to tell me about that night?” 

You beamed, suddenly so exhilarated despite the world spinning that you felt giddy; your mind barely comprehending the words Hoseok hit you with or their meaning, just starting to speak without conscious awareness. 

“Mmhmm sure! So, it’s pretty funny actually! I was just coming home from grocery shopping, and I stopped at the craft store before heading home to get Mom some of those adult coloring books since I could tell how anxious she was lately. We used to love doing that together you know? And!” 

You giggled, grinning even at the painful nature of your story. If only it was just a story. 

“She’d promised me we’d spend the whole day together since she was away all the time; now I know she was tending to you. Instead of being home with me, her y’know actual daughter.”

You giggled again, clearly delirious.

“So I finally got home, and when I walked inside I saw her just...bleeding everywhere. She was already dead, or so Namjoon told me later. He’d sent some grunts or something so as soon as I walked in I was being dragged out and to a car before I could even protest. None of you could even bear to clean up the mess you made! You must all be cowards of epic proportions. I mean seriously! You left her body to your grunts? After all she did for you? Real pathetic; lemme tell ya.”  

You shrugged with a beaming smile, feeling a large wave threatening to drag you under as your blinks began to slow.

“At least she’s not anxious anymore though right?” 

Hoseok listened to your story with that kind smile of his never once leaving, nodding in agreement to everything you said so you wouldn’t stop and pet your hair until blissful unconsciousness finally took you and you lost the war to stay conscious with a question of Yoongi’s disappearance being the last words to escape your lips. 

Hoseok’s smile dropped and he turned towards the closet cooly, perceptive gaze narrowing. 

“...You can come out now.” 

Taehyung rolled his eyes as he stepped out. 

“You coddle her too much. You should’ve just given her an interrogation drug instead of a gentle dose like that. We would’ve gotten the information quicker.” 

Hoseok chuckled as he shrugged, uncaring as he took in Taehyung with detached indifference. 

“I got the information didn’t I? And she won’t remember any of this. All the better for our plan. How’s Jungkook? Still distracting Yoongi?” 

Taehyung nodded. 

“Has him held hostage in the kitchen. It’s not like it takes much effort to play the brat on his part.” 

Hoseok nodded, risking a glance at your slumbering form and Taehyung did the same. 

There was a beat of silence and then. 

“...We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

“We’re doing the only thing we can. And that’s enough.” 

Taehyung suddenly flung himself back into the closet with a vengeance and silently rushed to close the door as he heard the infirmary door just beyond the wall burst open; barely managing it in time as Hoseok concealed the needle in his pocket and feigned confused annoyance at Yoongi’s abrupt entrance. 

“Hyung! Quiet down or you’ll wake her! She just finally fell asleep. What the Hell took you so long?!” 

Yoongi panted as he glanced around the room suspiciously and Hoseok briefly caught Jungkook’s vaguely concerned gaze behind him making Hoseok shoot him a dark look. All he’d had to do was give them the heads up he was returning! It could’ve been a single letter! But now there hadn’t been any time and-

“What’s this?”

Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but Hoseok could recognize that deadly tone anywhere. 

His attention quickly shifted to see what he was referring to and his heart dropped although his annoyed expression remained unchanged. 

Fuck.  

The vial he’d used to extract the drug sat in between Yoongi’s fingers and he cursed himself for forgetting such a detail. 

“Did you inject her with this?” 

Yoongi’s eyes were like icy knives, cutting him to the quick and daring him to lie. He needed to play his cards right here or things could go very badly very quickly. Sure, the most secret documents were in his room but the ones in here would be enough to get him at least under suspicion and he just couldn’t have that right now. Not when they were so close.

Yoongi was growing impatient, his eyes narrowing all the more to fine, catlike slits as he strode forward to hiss into Hoseok’s face. 

“Have you gone deaf? I said, ``Did you inject her with this?!”

“I did. I had to. She grew violent and-”

Yoongi grabbed him by the collar and Jungkook entered the room in panic but Hoseok waved his hand quickly to shoo him away, knowing better than to move his eyes when Yoongi was watching him so closely. One wrong move when Yoongi was in analysis mode and he’d blow all of their covers. 

“Don’t fuck with me Jung. She was acting delirious to an extent yes, showing signs of a need for intense affection and physical contact as by isolating her I accidentally triggered her psyche to momentarily put down her walls and ask for the touch she needs since she’s been touch starved for God knows how many years. But she was anything but violent. Try again. And this time if you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll just have to bring this to Namjoon.”

The dark smirk was on his lips before he could stop it, but he used it to his advantage. 

“Like you aren’t going to anyway? You always were his favorite lapdog. Well…” 

A smirk more snarl than smile twisted his expression to something even more ugly. 

“Besides Seokjin that is.”

Yoongi looked stricken just as he’d intended and then he found himself collapsing from the impact of Yoongi’s fist on his cheek, followed swiftly by a kick to his stomach that made him cough as he curled up slightly even as a pained laugh escaped his lips.  

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve-” 

He was cut off with a kick, to the head this time that had him seeing stars. 

“Good thing you’re not the only one with a taste for hitting them eh? Maybe now you can feel how she did when you injected her with that crap.” 

Hoseok dazedly realized he was being turned so his front was open to Yoongi and found himself straddled and then punch after punch was being delivered as Yoongi snarled venomously down at him. 

“You are going to tell me exactly why you injected her and then we’re both going to tell Namjoon what you-”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to be cut off. 

Hoseok’s eyes widened and he shouted, loudly. 

“NO!” 

The chair met Yoongi’s head with the sound of splintering wood, and he promptly fell to the floor unconscious as Taehyung panted heavily, eyes swirling with panic and adrenaline coursing through his body as he held out his hand to help Hoseok up. 

Seeing the scene coming to an abrupt end Jungkook rushed to close and lock the door behind him; never so thankful for Namjoon soundproofing the medical ward after he screamed his head off having his wound cauterized one too many times. 

Hoseok gritted his teeth in irritation as he smacked Taehyung’s hand aside, brushing the back of his hand over his now bleeding nose and spatting the blood that filled his mouth from his teeth being forced to bite down on his tongue too hard. 

“...Now look what you’ve done. This wasn’t supposed to happen until her training was fully complete and now we’re going to have to move it up.”

Taehyung scoffed, looking offended. 

“What; no thank you for saving you, you ungrateful ass? Yoongi would’ve continued till you were unconscious for that comment you made.”

“Exactly! That’s what I wanted you-!”

Hoseok cut himself off with a sigh and turned to the girl sleeping obliviously in the bed. 

“Nothing we can do about it now. Jungkook, you’ll be the one to clean those wounds and then carry her out when the time comes.They may be superficial but it’ll be a problem if they become infected on the road. I’ll grab the materials from my room and Taehyung; you’re on weapon and surveillance duty. If we so much as miss one tracker or are spotted by one camera...this whole operation is blown. I hope you finished the map in time. We meet back here in 30 minutes. If one of us doesn’t show...we leave without them. Understood?” 

Jungkook nodded, as did Taehyung and Jungkook was quick to grab the water jug, soap and rag that Yoongi brought in and tried to remind himself to go somewhat gently as he soaked the rag and scrubbed the soap into it before he ran it over your damaged shoulders. He made sure to get the entire area, just to be safe. He was pretty sure Hoseok wasn't above actually killing him if he didn’t clean them up to his standards and he still had plenty of things left to do in his life. 

It only took him about 10 minutes to clean your small scrape wounds to his liking and he quickly finished up by wrapping them in bandages just in case before he set about grabbing whatever suitable medical equipment they may need in the meantime. Gods forbid your wound did get infected, or he or one of the others got injured they’d have some way to cope.

Taehyung returned with 10 minutes to spare, just as Jungkook was placing his gathered medical supplies into a non discript black duffel bag. He was carrying his own bag; also black to better blend in with the night and no doubt filled to the brim with weapons and interrogation tools he’d rather not dwell on for long. 

They were both starting to get antsy as only 5 minutes remained as Hoseok finally rejoined them. In the meantime they’d bound both bags together for ease of carrying and Hoseok observed their handiwork with a hum of approval that made Jungkook’s heart swell despite himself. Praise from Hoseok was so hard to come by, it was something that was to be savored. 

Hoseok mumbled an apology, explaining he’d taken the risk to gather some clothes for all of them in addition to the files and other supplies they’d need. They were doing the right thing, he was sure of it. There was no time for second guessing now; not with a bleeding Yoongi on the floor, an unconscious brat and an ever shrinking time limit. They had to go now. 

At Hoseok’s signal, with Taehyung leading the way with map in hand they began to exit; First Taehyung, then Jungkook with girl in tow, and finally Hoseok. He hesitated for just a moment and then shoved open his vial drawer and grabbed several, rushing to read the labels. Just in case she got too rowdy, he told himself, quickly rushing to follow after his partners in arms. 

He paused just one more time before he left and never looked back, eyes locking on Yoongi as a brief expression of pained regret flashed across his face.

‘...’

‘...Forgive me brother. But I did what I had to. You’ll come to understand one day, I hope.’

And then they were gone.

________________________________________________________________

A/N: Welp; that just happened! I hope you all enjoyed this and I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart for my lengthy absence. Depression hit me hardcore with the arrival of Covid and writing became a major struggle.I was only recently able to complete this after much struggle thanks to the darker subject matter and the characters themselves screaming at me what to do. 

I will be participating in Monster Smash 2020 with @ksmutclub​ so look forward to my Scream AU(and do let me know if you have any good titles!) coming soon. 

As for Tainting Purity...I love that series. So much. But this most recent chapter has really killed my motivation. I think I may have unintentionally censored myself to be more socially correct because it was going a certain direction and that bothers me. I just want to warn you guys; I may have to scrap it and start entirely from scratch to let it fully be my own. 

It’s good to be back guys; I hope you’ll forgive me for dropping off planet Earth and welcome me back with your thoughts on the newest chapter. I love all you guys. <3

[honey-dewey]

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer

Chapter 6

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 2,377

Fic Warnings: Non-sexual age regression, split perspective, classification AU, canon-typical violence

Chapter Warnings: age regression, very faint hints of abuse, tiny little tantrums

Taglist: None for this fic. If you want to be added, just ask, but I know this is an odd topic and therefore will not tag anyone unless they ask

Jack’s not exactly the most stable human being on the planet, but when he tests as a Caregiver, all hell breaks loose as someone who was just his work partner suddenly becomes so much more.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 6 of ? Read Chapter 1 Here

-Mojito-

The screen in front of you was dead black, no image coming up. You were about to ask Ginger if something had gone wrong when a small white light began to glow. A small pop up next to the light prompted you to use your dominant hand to poke the light. You did, a bit confused about the controls, and the light began to expand, until your eyes were filled with nothing but white.

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “That’s bright.”

When the light subsided, you were in a completely different location. It seemed to be a small trailer with all sorts of cards on one wall. As you examined them, you noted they were all in different colors with different symbols.

On the other wall, there was a countertop with a bunch of random stuff scattered around. Empty cans, floppy discs, photographs, some wires, and a couple of other things that made you blink. You slowly reached out to one of the photographs. A pop up told you how to grip things, and you picked the photo up.

It was grainy and a bit wobbly in your virtual hand, but the image was clear enough. It was a picture of all the senior agents at Statesman, all gathered at a bar and smiling widely. You recognized Champ, Ginger, Mai Tai, Manhattan, Margarita, Merlot, and right in the middle, looking so much younger you hardly recognized him, was Whiskey.

You smiled, turning the picture over and seeing the date written on the back. Twelve years ago.

“Damn Whiskey,” you said out loud, knowing he could probably hear you. “How old are you?”

A slight chirping near you shocked you, causing you to turn and laugh. A robot, much like Wall-e if Wall-e had no bottom half, was floating at the front of the trailer. It waved, and you waved back. The robot trilled happily, getting closer to you. It pointed to the virtual photograph you’d dropped, and you picked it up.

“Do you want it?” You asked, holding the photo out to the robot.

The robot took the photo, popping it into a small projector. You grinned, stepping closer and examining the photo further now that it was bigger.

“Do you have any more?” You asked the robot, and it chirped again, pointing to a drawer. You opened the drawer, revealing more photos.

Looking up at the robot, you shook your head. “I can’t waste time buddy,” you said. “Maybe later.”

The robot nodded, opening a cabinet and taking out a small machine with a slot on the top. You nodded, grabbing the red card with the simplistic gun symbol on it and slotting it into the machine.

The trailer began to melt away, leaving you in a rather futuristic shooting range. A wall of virtual guns sat on a wall to your left, and you smiled at the robot, who was waiting patiently by the gun rack. “Let’s do this.”

-Whiskey-

Jack wasn’t the kind of person who got overly impressed by much. However, what he saw in front of him was enough to shock him.

Mojito’s view was on a TV screen in the viewing room, along with a still version of the virtual shooting range. He could see Mojito through the window in front of him, and a tiny part of him was worried about Mojito’s headspace. And then they picked up two guns off the virtual rack and started shooting.

It was a whirlwind of activity, and Jack actually had to stop watching the first TV because it was making him dizzy. Instead, he turned to the second one, watching in complete awe as Mojito took out each target. When it was all over, Mojito had shot their guns twenty six times and they’d successfully hit forty targets.

“Should I do it with another weapon?” They asked, turning to the small robot.

It chirped, holding out a hand with a red button. A pop up told Mojito they could either stay and continue shooting or go back and try another level.

They chose to try another level, looking around and eventually turning towards where Jack and Ginger were sitting. “What time is it?”

Ginger leaned towards a microphone and turned it on. “You’ve got time for one more.”

“Cool.” Mojito examined the cards on the wall, picking up a blue one with ‘Exit’ written on it. “An escape room?”

While they attempted the escape room, something Ginger promised would only take a half an hour, Jack left, heading out to pack a bag for the trip. He ended up in his office with a small bag that had a few essentials. Clothes, toiletries, a book or two, his laptop and charger, and a small travel poker set.

Then he got set on packing Mojito a bag.

It was a bit difficult. Mojito already had a bag of their own leisure clothes and going-out clothes, and their phone and books. Which meant all Jack had to do was pack a Little’s bag.

He picked up an unassuming duffle bag, carefully attracting a tag with Mojito’s name and agent number. They were traveling public, which meant Jack had to be very careful about what was packed. He’d already done his own carry-on, and Mojito had theirs, but this final bag was giving him absolute hell.

Jack ended up taking so long that Mojito finished what they were doing and came to find him.

“What is taking you so long?” They asked, knocking on the open door frame.

“Just confused,” Jack admitted, turning to Mojito. “Actually, why don’t you help me. You’ll be wearing these clothes anyway.”

Mojito walked over to stand with Jack, overlooking the clothes in the closet. “Well, grab a couple onesies. I like this one that I have on right now, but we might need some fleecyer ones. I bet Kingsman has some stuff, so if we forget some things, it’ll be okay.”

Jack pulled out a few onesies, some fleecy and some not. He automatically added socks, letting Mojito sift through the less pyjama-y clothes.

“Here.” They handed him a few pairs of folded pants. “I’ve got shoes in my bag already.”

After the pants went in, Mojito and Jack grabbed a few more shirts, two sweaters, and a set of winter accessories just in case.

“Why don’t you take the bags that are done out to the Bronco,” Jack said, looking at the mostly full Little’s bag. “I’ll be right down with this one.”

Mojito nodded and left, carting the bags down the halls. Jack immediately began to pack everything else. Diapers, pull-ups, a few toys he knew Mojito liked, books, and a soft blanket they’d gotten attached to.

In his carry-on, Jack put a pacifier and a few small toys, just in case.

“Ready?” Mojito asked, standing in the doorway.

“Ready.” Jack put the bag over his shoulder and smiled. “Let’s go.”

Their ride to the airport was easy, considering it wasn’t far. The TSA line was hellish, but it was always hellish. As soon as they exited TSA, Mojito pulled a stuffed bear out from their carry-on, gripping it tightly.

“You good ‘Jito?” Jack asked, seeing Mojito’s clearly uncomfortable face.

“Haven’t flown public in a while,” Mojito admitted. “It’s weird.”

Jack nodded his agreement. “It’s only ten hours,” he promised. “And it’s partially an overnight flight, so you can nap.”

Mojito hummed, clinging to the bear tighter. “Okay.”

The plane itself was nice, because of course Statesman wanted them to be comfortable, but Mojito kept getting more and more nervous as Jack found their seats, looking around with wide eyes until they squeaked when the plane actually took off, shaking violently.

“Mojito,” Jack murmured, taking Mojito’s hand and startling them. “Hey, kiddo, look at me.”

Mojito nodded, their death grip on the teddy bear wrinkling the clothes the bear was wearing. “Scared.”

Jack sighed, reaching across the seat divide to give Mojito a hug, rubbing their back and humming softly. “It’s okay kiddo. I hear ya, I know it’s scary.”

It took a minute for Mojito to relax. They tried moving their thumb to their mouth, but Jack was faster. He grabbed the pacifier he’d packed, offering it to Mojito, who took it hesitantly. Once properly reassured, Mojito snuggled up to Jack, sighing loosely and falling asleep quickly.

The plane ride was calm from there. No turbulence, no major issues, and Mojito woke up just as the plane was landing. They shuffled around a bit, yawning and almost losing their pacifier. Jack caught it before it could hit the floor, smiling and offering it back to Mojito, who took it happily.

Getting off the plane was a trip. Jack had done this a thousand times, but never with a sleepy Little holding his hand. Mojito rubbed their eyes, shuffling behind Jack as he collected their bags. It was a bit of trouble, lugging along three bags, but he was a Statesman. He could do it.

Eggsy was waiting for him, leaning against a car and smiling. “Whiskey.”

“Eggsy,” Jack greeted, putting the bags down and noting that Mojito was hiding behind him. Smiling, he urged them out, feeling them grip his jacket. “This shy little thing is Mojito, my partner.”

Eggsy leaned down, holding a hand out to Mojito. “Well hello there. I’m Eggsy.”

Mojito peered out from behind Jack. “Eggy?”

“Yeah!” Eggsy said, causing Mojito to brighten. “I’m good friends with your daddy.”

Immediately, Jack corrected him. “Oh no, we ain’t-”

“Daddy!” Mojito said happily from behind him, cutting him off.

Jack sighed. “Okay.”

Eggsy chuckled, leading Jack and Mojito to the car. “This’ll take us to our new headquarters. Thanks to Statesman, we were able to rebuild quickly.”

The ride was quiet. Mojito, who was completely exhausted despite sleeping for most of the flight, fell asleep practically on Jack. Eggsy and Jack talked, catching up on recent events. Apparently Eggsy had kept his title of Galahad and Harry had been made the new Arthur. They’d continued to recruit, and the position of Merlin had been filled by someone Ginger had recommended.

“We’re here.” Eggsy said, stepping out of the car and popping the trunk so he could help Jack with his luggage. Jack got out, convincing Mojito to get out too. They grumbled, rubbing their eyes and complaining.

“Shh,” Jack hushed as Mojito began to whine. “Behave.”

Mojito crossed their arms and pouted, but did as asked and stopped whining.

Eggsy took them through the building, showing them their room.

“Ginger said you had a Little, so there’s a nursery attached,” he said as he opened the door. “We haven’t got many Littles, but there are enough of them. If you want, Geraint, Bedivere, and Lamorak are downstairs. They’re our Littles. Mojito could go play while you get properly caught up. I’m sure Harry will want to talk to you.”

“I wanna go with Daddy!” Mojito insisted, taking firm hold of Jack’s coat sleeve.

“‘Jito, kiddo, why don’t you go meet the other Littles?” Jack tried. “I’m sure they’ll be much more fun than sitting in a boring room with me and Eggsy.”

Mojito turned their eyes on Jack’s face. “Don’t wanna leave you,” they said, less insistent and more fearful.

Jack’s heart hurt, and clearly Eggsy could see it too. “Why don’t we all meet in the Little’s center,” he suggested. “That way Mojito doesn’t have to leave you, but we can still get caught up.”

It was a good idea, one that Mojito accepted with no trouble. They skipped down the hall, humming some earworm from a recent disney movie. Their previous fear was long gone now that they wouldn’t be removed from Jack’s side.

The Kingsman Little center was less of a center and more of a single room. It had neutral colored walls and a soft carpet with comfortable looking furniture. There were toys scattered around, along with three Littles, all gathered around a large dollhouse. They all looked over when Eggsy opened the door, immediately crowding around him and happily cheering. Mojito whimpered and hid behind Jack, gripping his coat with surprising strength.

“Mojito?” Eggsy said, turning to look for the missing Little. “Mojito? Do you want to meet the others?”

Mojito firmly shook their head and went back to hiding behind Jack.

Jack sighed. “They’ve never met another Little, at least not that we know of.”

Eggsy nodded. “So they’re nervous?”

“Yeah, probably. I still don’t want to push it.” Jack led Mojito to the table where the adults would meet. “Mojito, kiddo, why don’t you sit here? I’m sure Eggsy can help me find some coloring pages for you.”

Mojito nodded, settling at the table and nervously watching the other three Littles as Eggsy herded them back to the dollhouse.

“I wanna sit with Eggy!” One of them said, tugging on Eggsy’s sleeve and looking desperately at the table. “Please!”

Jack sighed, meeting Eggsy’s eyes. “Fine. But you have to be quiet,” Eggsy bargained. “Our guest is very scared right now and needs you to be quiet.”

The Little nodded, eagerly grabbing a coloring book and a box of crayons and sitting across from Mojito, who shied away and gripped Jack’s coat sleeve.

“Hi,” the Little said quietly, waving at Mojito. “I’m Dew, but Eggy calls me Bevidere.”

“Bedivere,” Eggsy corrected, sitting next to Dew and smiling. “Jack, Mojito, this is Agent Bedivere, but their civilian name is Dewey.”

Dewey smiled, passing a coloring page to Mojito. “Wanna color?”

Mojito nodded, nervously taking the coloring page and grabbing a blue crayon from the pile on the table. Jack grinned, looking over as Harry entered the room.

“Ah, I see we’re all coloring,” he said, sitting at the head of the table. “Dewey, what have you got?”

“A space man!” Dewey proudly held up a half-colored picture of Boba Fett.

“And you?” Harry turned to Mojito. Mojito looked up, holding up a picture of R2-D2.

Harry smiled. “Very well done young Mojito.”

Mojito’s face broke into a grin and they went back to coloring.

“Harry,” Jack said. “Pardon my interruption, but if we could focus?”

“Apologies Whiskey,”

“Just Jack will work.”

Harry didn’t even skip a beat correcting himself. “Jack. So, what do you want to know?”

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 9

Crown of Thorns

Before they set off for Seireitei the next morning Ichigo hands a backpack to each of his friends.

‘Backpack’ isn’t the right word. It’s a sling bag that will strap across one shoulder each. Kukaku had been nice enough to provide him with them. They’ve got basic medicines, rations, a small flashlight and a bowie knife, a few other things that came in strangely useful in Ichigo’s experience. Like a roll of tinfoil, and a ball of rubber bands.

“Once we get into the seireitei, we’re gonna make a flashy entrance. People are going to see us and they’re going to report on what we look like. As soon as we land we need to find the laundry, or the barracks, and steal uniforms.”

He holds a hand up to keep Uryu from objecting.

“I know you hate it. Deal with it. Orihime and I will be the most distinct. Chad and Uryu can probably change clothes, maybe hair styles and be fine. She and I will have to change hair color.”

They won’t have time to dye their hair, and even if they did Ichigo knows they were both loath to do so. Orihime prided her hair for Sora, her brother. Ichigo was just plain stubborn.

“There’s wigs in both of our bags,” and in Ichigos, his Chaldeas combat uniform in all its white and black glory. It will cover the rather distinct mark on his chest. He turns to their guide.

“Yoruichi. There’s different squads, what do we need to know about them? Characteristics, duties, positions. Anything.”

The cat has been staring at him this entire time. Ichigo doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She shakes herself out of it.

“You’re right. Each squad has different duties and different specialities. There’s also rivalries between certain squads. Each squad has approximately 200 individuals.”

“That’s not good,” Ichigo grimaces. “200 is small enough to be able to recognize people by face if not name.”

“Yes, but the turnover rate for unseated officers is low enough I don’t think it will pose a problem,” Yoruichi continues. She gives them a run through of symbols and squads associated with them, before moving on, “the first division is made up of those who are able to take charge. They rank highest, besides seated officers. They will be the second worst to masquerade as. The absolute worst will be the second division, who work as covert operations. They handle wetwork.”

“Assassins,” Ichigo understands. “And spies?”

“Sometimes. That also falls to the Third division, which serves as a secondary source of information gathering and is in charge of media, communication, and, for lack of a better word, propaganda. Fourth division is medics and combat medics. The fifth has historically been an emergency response system, and are one of the most combat ready.”

Ichigo nods along. Orihime would be best suited to the forth then. Chad, perhaps the fifth?

“The sixth division runs internal affairs. Even if Rukia had not been their captain's sister, it would have been someone from the sixth sent to retrieve her. Seventh doesn’t have a particular speciality as far as I know, but they are typically sincere people. The eighths division is made up almost entirely of women, and they are the reservists and jacks of all trades. They work closely with the thirteenth. Rukia’s own division.”

“Are they mostly women as well?”

“No. They typically do the most work outside of the soul society, sending people to the living world and protecting people from hollows. Ninth division is also combat oriented. They are entrusted with the defense of the seireitei. They count the paperwork of all high ranking officers as well. The tenth is in charge of inter squad cooperation and joint task forces. The eleventh is full of heavy hitters and combat specialists. They are one of the largest divisions, and also the one with the highest mortality rate. Twelfth is research and development. We should avoid them as well.”

Ichigo taps his fingers along his leg. “Orihime should find something from the fourth. She’s the only one who can heal, and can probably pass her abilities off as a zanpakuto if needed. None of the rest of us could be in the eighth, and the thirteenth seems too close to each other to be fooled. I don’t know enough about science for the twelve.”

“I could probably pass, but I would rather not,” Uryu agrees.

“That’s fine. I think it’s best if I say I’m in the eleventh. I have the sword and the fighting ability too. Chad, I think you’d be best for ninth. And Uryu, sixth. We need to avoid one through three if we can.”

“Ichigo…”

Ichigo looks up at Chad. “Huh?”

“When did you start planning like this?”

Ichigo doesn’t know how to answer that. He learned on the battlefields of france. He learned in the streets of london. He learned on the decks of the Golden Hind, the plains of america, the mountains of the middle east and the deserts of egypt. They had been weaker, they had been lesser. They had heart and desperation, but they had to fight smarter not just harder. It was the only option. He had to learn or he had to die.

“Chaldea, I guess,” he finally says. “We need to be quick and careful. This is a rescue mission, not a war.”

Chad looks at him for a long moment. Finally, he nods.

“Okay.”

They break apart and come back together around the ball that Kukaku hands them. She looks at Ichigo intently.

“This energy needs to be balanced between all of you equally. Your power is insane. You’ll have to put barely any into it.”

“That’ll suck,” Ichigo says bluntly. “I’m not good at holding back.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “No choice though. Let’s go.”

Before they can start, Ganju grabs his wrist. Ichigo keeps himself from elbowing him in the face.

“What?” Ichigo asks, turning to look at him.

“Why are you going through all of this for one shinigami? Why is she so special?” Ganju asks. For once he looks absolutely serious. Ichigo stands straighter and lifts his stubborn jaw.

“It’s because she saved my life. And my family’s lives. She gave her power to me, and because of that she’s going to die. I owe her,” he said again, “And I will repay that debt.”

Ganju searches his face for something. Whatever he finds must satisfy him. He lets go of Ichigo, but Ichigo grabs his arm before he can get far.

“Why are you coming along? It’s not like you have a stake in this. You’re not one of our friends. You’ve never even met any of us before this, and you clearly hate shinigami.”

Ganju looks ready to say something, but Kukaku shoves her way between them and cuts it off.

“Enough chit chat, let’s go already. You’re wasting daylight, idiot.”

Ichigo can’t argue with that. They circle the sphere and Ichigo lets only the barest of his reiryoku bleed into it.

He’s not oblivious. He knows the difference in his power and theirs is about where he and Mash had been when they’d first began. She was endowed with the power and skills of a great warrior of ages past and he was little more than an amateur mage who fought punks on the side.

Now he’s got his own power, his own sword, and he’s been trained by the best warriors to ever walk the earth. He’d learned at the knees of literal legends. He’d faced down gods and demons and he’d lead armies.

He had the power, he had the experience.

It’s time to go.

They climb into the canon, form the sphere, and the chant begins.

Kido isn’t so different from magic. The only difference is the type of energy that’s being used. Reiryoku and mana are the opposite of two coins, the body and the soul. The living and the dead.

Ichigo figures now he stands somewhere between the two. He doesn’t fully understand. He doesn’t need to.

All he needs to know is how to fight and win, for the sake of his friends.

*

Ichigo will admit, it’s somewhat terrifying how  big this goddamn continent is. They’ve been marching for what feels like forever. He knows that the northern army has been holding the celts back for at least a week. He doesn’t know how much longer they can last, and they themselves are still a good week from the white house.

The stress of the situation was still heavy on Ichigo’s shoulders, but Kyo was a good person to carry part of it. Mash is under just as much stress as he is, but she must be made of stronger stuff than he is.

She presses on with all the faith in the world that they will stand victorious when the dust settles.

Ichigo has less faith, and more bullheaded refusal to accept any other outcome.

Kyo, he can tell, doesn’t understand this.

They stand in a field of death. Celts lay at their feet, blood drips from Ichigo’s sword and stains his cheek. His orange hair is dyed red in places.

These are soldiers who were born only to fight. They were made to die at the behest of a wicked queen and an artificial king. They never knew childhood. They never knew joy or a future. They only knew the present, they only knew what they were made to do.

To fight. To kill. To die.

“This is wrong,” Ichigo says, his hands fisted at his side and his jaw set in stubborn anger. In one hand his sword weeps bloody tears into crushed flowers at his feet. A mansion sets in the background, once grand, and around them stretches the ruins of a garden. A headless cherub gushes brown water into a red basin.

Kyo reaches down and plucks the flower from its place on the ground.  Ichigo knows well he has the heart of a poet and the mind of a scholar.

“Orchids,” he says, showing Ichigo where the violet petals stretch through the violent stains.

“I doubt we can get perfume from them.” The stench of rot and death hasn’t set in just yet, but it will. Ichigo would rather not stick around.

“No, but they’re out of place here, don’t you think?” He must see the scowl on Ichigo’s face, for he goes on without prompting. “Orchids are a spring flower. One of the four gentlemen. They’re a rather old concept in art.”

“Old for you must mean ancient for us,” Ichigo tries to turn the subject, but Kyo merely shrugs.

“You humans live short, scared lives. And we, long and terrible ones. It’s the way things are…”

It’s there again. The look in Kyo’s eyes. The one he’d had when he was first telling Ichigo about Rukongai and seireitei, and the empty throne that sits atop the world. There’s a longing for change, Kyo is too stubborn and ambitious not to have it, but there’s something else holding him back.

Ichigo scowls and closes the distance between them in a single stride.

“You just sound defeatist. So it’s hard, so you’ll have to fight. So you just give up? Are you going to give in to the status quo when you return to Soul Society?” Ichigo demands. He grasps Kyo by the front of his shihakusho and drags him so close that their noses almost touch. Brown eyes meet brown, one set wide and the other narrowed. “Half the fight is always mental. If you talk like that, you’ll never win, and nothing will never change!”

Ichigo bites out his hardest truth. “A victor should talk about how the world should be. Not how the world is.”

Kyo opens and closes his mouth, gaping like a fish. Ichigo has never seen the man so wrong footed before. Even when Ichigo had shoved part of his soul into Kyo’s body, there hadn’t been time for him to be so stunned.

Now he gets to see those brown eyes shift. From shock to understanding to a near burning determination that his calm demeanor barely betray’s.

Ichigo is getting good at reading him.

He can see the blossoming dream inside his heart. Soon time will erase everything, but maybe, just maybe, some things will remain. Impressions, hopes. Dreams.

Kyo lifts the orchid up between them, purple and red in equal turns, and incinerates it with only a whispered spell.

* *

They’re forced to split apart upon entry.

It’s not ideal, nothing about the situation is. All the same, Ichigo deals with it.

He finds himself spat out into a street with no name and no distinction with Ganju, who lands in a pile of sand while Ichigo himself land catlike on his feet. Yoruichi still sits on his shoulder, steady and growing familiar. She isn’t Fou, but the presence is welcome all the same.

It takes all of ten minutes for someone to find them.

Typical.

Ichigo glances at Yoruichi on his shoulder. “Are you staying, or do you wanna step to the side?”

Yoruichi considers him with those wide golden eyes of hers. He always feels like she’s looking more than skin deep.

“I’ll be off to the side. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Give me some credit,” Ichigo rolls his eyes and bends down enough that Yoruichi can hop to the ground comfortably.

He tilts his head at Ganju. “Hey. I’ll take the stronger one. Do what you want with pretty boy.”

“Oh?” one of the opposing shinigami smiles and flutters his weird feather eyelashes at him. “You really think I’m pretty?”

It wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Ichigo grimaced at him. “You look like you spend twenty minutes in front of a mirror every morning. If you don’t exfoliate, I’m a hollow.”

“Well, Yumichika, looks like this guy has got you pegged!” the other one, a blond man who has his sword propped on a shoulder, grins at Ichigo. There’s red around the corners of his eyes. Make up? Tattoos?

“I’m not pegging anyone, thanks,” Ichigo says dryly.

The three dead people stare at him blankly.

“Huh?” pretty boy, Yumichika, asks.

Ichigo shook his head swiftly. “I’m not explaining that.” At least Yoruichi snorted at him.

“Well, doesn’t matter. All I need to know is that today…” the bald man started bouncing around on his toes with his sword out in front of him. Dancing? “I’m lucky! Lucky, it’s my lucky day!”

“Ichigo!” Ganju hisses, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m not fighting these guys, they’re way too strong! I’m gonna run.”

“What? No. If you run we might get split up! That’s a terrible plan, just hold him off until I finish my fight.”

“Hah?” Ganju scowls at him. “Since when are you the boss?!”

“Since I knocked your ass flat on the ground, that’s when!”

“I don’t care what you say,” Ganju scrambles out of the sand box he made. “I’m outta here!”

Ichigo watches him go sprinting before he looks to Yoruichi. “Oi. Keep an eye on him, would you?”

Yoruichi gives a long suffering sigh. “I suppose I must. He is Kukaku’s brother, after all.”

Without another word the cat trots off at Ganju’s heels, keeping pace easily.

Ichigo is left with the two locals.

“...Did that cat just… talk?” Yumichika points after the runaway, his perfectly trimmed brows furrowed.

“Ee-yup.”

“Yumichika,” the bald one nods to his companion, who grunts in response and takes off after Ganju. Ichigo has no choice but to let him go and trust Ganju to handle himself. He doesn’t know if he can take the both of these guys at once. They’re clearly close. He’s sure they’re a terribly effective tag team too, and he really doesn’t have time for this.

“Your friend. He could tell we’re stronger, and he ran. You would have been smart to do the same,” the bald man says, eying Ichigo speculatively.

Ichigo merely shrugs. It’s not in his nature to back down from a fight. It never has been, and now it is even less.

“I figure, if you are stronger you’ll catch up,” They aren’t, he can see clearly.  “I’ll have to fight you either way. Besides, if you’re not then I’ll just kick your ass now and move on.”

He shifts himself, draws his sword and bares his teeth.

The man laughs, sounding far too delighted. This is someone who revels in combat.

“That’s a pretty good reason,” he praises, drawing his sword from his scabbard. Ichigo blocks the blow that comes, and ducks the swipe of his sheath. Ichigo bounces back and comes against him again, a whirl of blade. He twists out of the way of another blow and smashes his elbow above the man's eye, splitting his brow. He barely moves back from the blade that slices through his own. Blood drips into his left eye, a mirror of the damage he’s inflicted. They separate.

It’s the bald man, his opponent, who brings them to a pause. The air isn’t as heavy as he would expect. This man may want him dead, but Ichigo can tell; he’s fighting for the fun of it.

(Ichigo loathes to admit it, but he is too. Rukia is going to die, Ganju is being chased by someone dangerous, and Ichigo is here having  fun )

(It makes him sick to realize that the life of one person weighs less heavily than all of human history.

Rukia is his friend, how can he think such a thing?)  

“That was good. You’ve got good reflexes. You’re stong. What’s your name?”

Ichigo doesn’t see a reason to pretend to be anyone he’s not.

“Ichigo,” he says easily. “And you are?”

“Ikkaku Madarame. Third seat of squad eleven. Ichigo huh? That’s a good name.”

“You think so?” Ichigo arches a brow, privately waiting for him to say something about strawberries.

“Yeah. They say guys with ‘ichi’ in their names are strong and forthright. So…”

He lifted his sword again, his scabbard in a reverse grip behind him and grins like mad. “What say we be friends, Ichi?”

Ichigo wishes Urahara were here, if only so he could crow an ‘i told you so’.

Ichigo levels his sword and can’t help the curve of his mouth. “Fine. But only if I win. If I lose. I figure I’ll be dead.”

“Deal!”

They come together again.

“You seem young,” says the chatterbox, Ikaku. “But you’ve adapted to my fighting style well.”

Well? What can he say, he’s met a lot of dual wielders. EMIYA, other EMIYA, Diarmuid saber, Diarmuid lancer, Scathach, Jack the Ripper, and more. He’s fought with them, trained under them. His hand still itches to hold a sword that isn’t there.

He settles it on his hilt instead.

“Who taught you to fight?” Ikaku asks. He wipes away the blood on his brow with an ointment. Ichigo makes mental note of it. For now he settles on keeping one eye closed, and waits for Ikaku to try to take advantage of his ‘weakness’.

“Who’s to say? I pick up what I can from everyone I know,” he says truthfully. “Are we gonna talk or fight?”

“Fight, obviously! Now,” he slams his sword and scabbard together. “Extend! Hozukimaru!”

Huh. A duel wielder and a lancer all in one. What an interesting person.

It doesn’t matter. Ichigo crosses the ground between them. He pours his power into his blade, until it shines pale white and blue. Ikkaku brings his halberd up to block, but Ichigo cuts through it like butter.

Zangetsu slices through Hozukimari like it’s not made of wood and steel and soul.

Zangetsu carves through Ikkaku’s chest and stomach. It’s not deep enough to kill, but the blood flows heavily. Ichigo finishes it with a hard elbow to his jaw, and Ikkaku falls to the ground.

Zangetsu returns to his resting place on Ichigo’s back and Ichigo gets to work. He has no intention of killing if he can help it. In this case, he can.

He uses part of Ikkaku’s own balm and his first aid kit, one of the things he’d packed in his bag, to seal the injuries. Ichigo hasn’t got time to wait around for Ikkaku to wake up, but this is a good chance for him to get information.

So he sits and changes his hair color, and watches the clouds roll by while Yoruichi plays cat and mouse with the pretty boy.

* * *

The whitehouse is a twisted vision.

Ichigo has seen pictures of his classmates on vacation in front of it, and pictures online or in books. He knows, at least vaguely, what it’s supposed to look like. It’s not supposed to be a twisted desecration of red thorns eating away at pale stone dragons.  

Ichigo eyes one of the macabre statues, wrapped in thick, strangling vines made of the same blood red bane that Gae Bolg is. So many thorns. Scathach had called them unbearable. Ichigo is caught somewhere between pity and anger at the berserker that’s caused so much pain and suffering. He was born for this, created from a wish and twisted by Medb’s black heart.

A pitiful creature to be sure. Ichigo knew Cu Chulainn well. He was a creature of duty and loyalty, of compassion and determination. Once he decided he wanted to protect someone that was the end of it. He would battle an entire army on his own, suffer uncountable pains, and still die with his pride intact. He had.

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way his own Caster eying the thorns, his red eyes dark. If Ichigo remembered right, he had died at the point of his own spear during Medb’s quest for vengeance against him.

Ichigo bumps his shoulder with him and gives him a questioning look.

“ ‘m fine,” he assured, touching Ichigo’s shoulder. “I sworn m’self to you, Master. Have faith in me.”

“Will my loyal dog not use my name?” Ichigo rolls his eyes. He still manages to get a cracked smile from the druid. Caster lifts his staff and settles his shoulders.

“After you.”

Ichigo leads the way inside.

It’s just them again. His core servants, and now Florence Nightingale. For a medic, she’s one of the scariest berserkers he’s ever seen. He’s not sure even heracles would win a fair fight with her when she’s determined to save someone.

Indeed, when they finally step into the interior, where Cu Alter and Medb are waiting for them, she wastes no time explaining that she’s going to cure them.

Although, Ichigo has never heard someone say that the best course of treatment would be  suicide .

He privately agreed with the king of savages. Nightingale is crazy.

That doesn’t mean she’s not wrong. Ichigo can see it plainly. Cu Alter, the king that Medb created, really has had his joy sealed away by his duty to destroy. There’s no pleasure in the fight for him, and for a warrior such as he it must be equal agony to the red thorns that pierce his hide.

Ichigo shift, Kyo at his side, while his band steps forwards in formation. Mash and Rama take the front, a strong defense and a strong offense that can switch easily to long range at a dimes turn. Cu Cullainn and Nightingale bring up the rear, supporting them with runes and healing spells, while Medusa stays staunchly at Ichigo’s side.

Her hair floats around her, a hissing halo that rattles with chains. Her scythe has manifested in her hands.

Ichigo lifts his right fist, the command spells burning in his skin. He only has two left, and three spells in his combat uniform. This will be their final fight. They have to win. They have to.

If they lose, they lose the world. Everyone’s suffering and sacrifice will be wasted. Yuzu and Karin, and even his dad will be lost forever. His mother will have never even been born.

“Go!” He shouts, his voice cracking through the air.

Rama aims at Medb while Mash tries to keep Cu Alter at bay. Ichigo’s Caster uses the distraction to start weaving runes into deadly traps, while Nightingale reverses the worse of the damage as she’s able.

It’s going well. They’re this close to overwhelming the duo when Medb does something that Ichigo will never be able to forgive.

She summons 28 demon god pillars to the northern army.

Cu Caster get’s in the final shot.

Gae Bolg still does not kill the wicked Queen of Connacht, but it’s master does deliver the last blow that sends her glittering into dust on the wind.

That one instant of victory, however, is all Alter needs.

Gae Bolg leaves his hands.

Ichigo knows the details of the Noble Phantasm. A spear that affects probably, and turns ‘trusting the spear’ into ‘piercing the heart’. Once it’s active, there is no dodging it. There is no blocking it with anything shy of a realty marble.

It does not pierce Rama again. Nor does is strike down Mash, or Nightingale, or Meduse, or even their own Cu Chulainn.

Ichigo chokes.

He doesn’t feel it, not really. But he sees it. He sees the red jutting out of his chest. The hole that has pierced through his heart. ]

He chokes. Blood drips from his lips, down onto the spear. Brambles crawl beneath his skin, spreading the hole until black gapes within the red. Blood pours down his chest, staining the white of his shirt.

Ichigo chokes. Black bleeds into his vision from all sides and his mouth tastes like blood and chalk and void dust.

White drips down his lips.

Darkness consumes him.

* * * *

“Alright,” Ichigo tugs his wig in place one more time, double checking that there’s no orange hair poking out to give him away. Ganju is next to him, tying the shihakusho in place with a grimace over his face.

“I hate this,” he grumbles. He secures his sword back in place. His armor is barely hidden under the sleeves of his new uniform.

“You didn’t have to come with us,” Ichigo pointed out.

Ganju scowled at him. “Yes I did.”

“Your sister didn’t tell you to-”

“It’s not about my sister!” Ganju snaps. Ichigo shuts his mouth at the look in his eyes. Burning with anger and grief.

“It’s about… my brother,” Ganju’s hands were shaking. “He was killed in cold blood by a shinigami. He was a genius, a lieutenant, and a good man. But he was betrayed and killed by his partner. I was young… So I don’t know everything. But I will never forget that shinigami’s cold eyes, when she dragged my dying brother back to our home. Or the way he  thanked her for it. I’ve never understood. But you.”

Ganju grabs him by the front of his shirt. “You’re different from other shinigami. So I followed you here, so I could understand. Why he loved the shinigami until he died. I want to see for myself what shinigami are like!”

Ichigo meets Ganju’s eyes squarely. “I’m not a real shinigami, so I can’t and won’t speak for them. I’ll let you see for yourself, Ganju. Just as long as you watch my back.”

Ganju gives him a short, single nod.

Yoruichi, who has spent the entire time standing in the corner while they ready themselves, flickers her tail and stands.

“We should get going. The longer this takes, the more danger we will be in. Everyone will be on high alert, and while this can help us blend in in the confusion, we still need to stay on our toes.”

Ichigo nods sharply.

They duck out of the barracks they’d stolen into and start down the pathway. Ikkaku had told him Rukia was in a white tower, and they could see it from here. The problem was that none of them knew the way to get to the white tower. They’re just wandering around blindly.

There’s nothing for it.

They walk on.

Ichigo looks around as they go. Some of the walls carry Lily of the Valley on them, stamped in careful black ink.

“Mary’s tears,” Ichigo muses, mostly to himself.

“Huh? No, they’re plants,” Ganju argues, looking at Ichigo like he’s just lost his mind.

Ichigo scowls at him. “I know that. They’re Lily of the Valley, but some people call them Mary’s Tears. There’s an old legend in the west in the living world that they grew from the tears Mary cried when her son was crucified.  They’re a sign that their messiah is coming back.”

“That’s very interesting,” comes a smooth (terribly, awfully,) familiar voice from behind them.

Ichigo feels his heart tighten. He turns.

Kyo stands behind them. Brown hair, brown eyes. He’s older now. His face is more angular, the last of his puppy fat has melted off his face, and he’s finally taller than Ichigo. His smile is polite and geniel. Ichigo is almost fooled. He can still see the sharp intellect behind them.

A white haori hangs off his shoulders. Kyo has been made a captain.

It’s all Ichigo can do not to reach for him and hiss out the truth.

But this isn’t the place. He cocks his head and frowns.

“I’m friends with Jeanne d’arc,” he says straight faced. Ganju at his side has gone tense and still. Ichigo elbows him. They’re more than a little suspicious out here like this. Two men and a cat.

Except, Yoruichi is now gone.

Two men and no cat.

“Is that so?” Kyo looks faintly amused, even as he assesses them sharply. It’s barely hidden in his deep eyes. Ichigo knows him well enough to see it, and to see something unexpected. A faint recognition. “It’s rare for someone in the eleventh division to be so knowledgeable.”

“How did you know…?” Ichigo is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kyo does not speak his name, he does not broach any subjects. It stings far worse than Ichigo had ever imagined. Hadn’t Nero felt something familiar about them too? But she hadn’t remembred them, and neither does Kyo.

“You were with third seat Madarame after he lost the fight with the Ryoka, weren’t you? The eleventh rarely tolerate people who aren’t in their own squad.” He had waited at Ikkaku’s side for field medics, with his own choppy work keeping the barely conscious man stable. It shouldn’t be a shock that someone saw them and spread the word. But how did Kyo recognize him from just that?

“Oh, right,” Ichigo says like that makes sense. In his mind he’s screaming.

  Kyo, kyo! Don’t you see me? Do you remember? We’re friends, we’re friends! We fought in america, we travelled the continent, look at me goddamn it. I know the name of your sword, I know where you were born. Kyo-  

“Excuse us,” Ganju grabs Ichigo by the back of the neck and forces him into a sharp bow. “We need to get going. Invasion and all that.”

“Yes, of course,” Kyo says smoothly. He gestures behind him. “I won’t keep you. We all must do our best to protect Seireitei.”

“Right…” Ichigo barely keeps his hands to himself.

He’d promised. He  promised .

His mouth opens to say something, to beg time between only them, to send Ganju away if he must. But down the street comes a pack of blood hungry shinigami, looking for a piece of the invaders, and Ichigo has no choice but to let Ganju drag him away by the collar of his shihakusho.

A woman with a badge on her arm appears at Kyo’s side as they’re being pulled away, her brown eyes wide and curious. Kyo draws her attention away and that’s the last Ichigo sees of him. It drives him insane.

* * * * *

He comes in the dark.

Silver hair and a white haori, he manages to go utterly unseen by all. It’s a skill even Sosuke Aizen has trouble mastering without the aid of his illusions. Gin’s footsteps are light, barely a whisper against the hardwood of the office building. Even the omniskido would be hard pressed to beat his skill with sneaking around.

It’s one of the things that Aizen prizes him for. The other being his unfailing loyalty and his willingness to do whatever he was told, with or without answered questions.

These things include going out to spy on the young would-be Ryoka. Everything is happening exactly as he’s expected. They’ve even brought the Shihoin heiress back to Soul Society with them. How useful.

“Well?” he asks, without further prompting. Most of his attention is still on one of the monitors in front of him that details the boy sitting outside the Shiba house. A camera fly can only get so close with Shihoin around, so he must settle for watching the human stare at stones in his hand like they’ve personally offended him.

The boy must be mad, to come with such a small group, but this is a while different type of crazy. Sosuke is fairly certain he’d seen the human-shinigami- possible -hollow speak to the rocks.

“He’s got good reflexes,” Gin says, peering over Sosuke’s shoulder. His presence is familiar and not unwelcome. Few get so close, even when Sosuke pretends to be gentle and kind. He keeps them all at arms length, the brown nosers and sycophants.

“I saw that much. You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

Gin smiles widely at him and lifts, from out of his pocket, the innocuous looking marble. It swirls with blacks and blue’s and glows faintly it’s own ethereal light. A faint red in the center bleeds purple into the blue. Incomplete as it is, it still reacts to interesting things and people.

Gin drops it in his hand. It’s warm to the touch, nearly burning. He’s never seen the red in the center flicker so bright before, like a tiny ball of fire in the very center. There’s something not quite right about this intruder. Ichigo Kurosaki. Sosuke has known him for many years, even if he’s never gotten close enough to see the boy in person. That would involve getting far to close to Urahara and Shihoin, and if he is honest even Sosuke is not foolish enough to go up against legendary assassins in their own home field.

“It tried to burn a hole in my pocket when I got within fifty feet,” Gin reports succinctly. “What does that mean?”

Sosuke has no idea what that means. But one of his rules of his own behavior is that he never admits to not knowing something. So rather than say as much to Gin, he offers him his own faint smile, the kind that puts other people at ease but sets his most faithful companion on edge.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he says instead. “Now. Are you ready to be the bad guy, Ichimaru?”

Gin’s smile, snakelike and cold, only grows. His eyes curve upwards.

“What other kinda guy would I be for you?”

* * * * * *

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 13)

(chapter 13)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairings: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: language, character death, injuries

previous | next

Renjun's POV

I jab the knife into Lee Jeno's chest. To be specific, I try to aim for the heart so it's quick and direct. Plus, it gets the job done. After that, he falls backwards, but my attention was elsewhere.

No longer being held up, Athena is unable to sit up on her own. I barely catch her before she face-plants into the ground.

"Hey, you good?" I stupidly ask.

She obviously wasn't. She didn't even have the strength to hold her own head up. Grabbing her by the jaw, I noticed one of her pupils were more dilated than the other. An concussion?

"Why did you do that?" Her eyebrows are furrowed while she slurs through her words.

"I don't know," My voice softens, "Do you think you can stand?"

Athena mumbles with her eyes shut, "Renjun, I'm so tired."

Knowing it's medically safe for her to do so, I assure her, "You're okay. Just go to sleep."

Then she's unconscious.

I begin to question what I should do next. Should I run away before the rest of her people come for her? Just leave her here for them and get away safely.

That's the best option.

However, when I take one last look down at her, I feel a pang in my chest. All common sense floats away and suddenly she has never looked so helpless and innocent.

Not that I can remember at least. Maybe I never noticed before, but she has always seemed perfectly able to take care of herself. Yet, here she is completely vulnerable and knocked out in my arms.

"What's the problem?" That's what Jeno would've said in his usual, mocking tone.

The problem is now that I have her close, I don't know if I can ever let her go.

Before I can question myself, I'm heading back to the Cornocopia with Lee Athena on my back.

Jisung's POV

By the time I was able to limp my way to camp, Jaemin and Mark came rushing towards me in concern.

Before I can quickly explain to them, I am beaten by the sound of a cannon. The world begins spinning in circles. My body feeling completely numb.

Jaemin frantically grabbed my shoulders, "Where's Athena?"

"Jaemin. She-" I can't even say it, "I'm so sorry."

His hands just fall to his sides. Stepping backwards, his eyes are focused on the floor. It's a long silence before his voice musters out a pained, "How?"

"The Careers found us. We took off running, but my leg-" I was speaking almost incoherent and in sobs, "and I told her to leave me, but she wouldn't. We hid behind different bushes. So, when Jeno came towards mine, she got him to chase her the other way."

There was silence.

"I killed her. It because of me and my stupid leg. I was the one who made her go out there." I say to no one.

"Jisung." Mark shakes his head at me.

"I did, Mark. I did! She ran away so Jeno wouldn't find and kill me." I yell.

"How do we even know the cannon was for her?" Mark suggests, taking me aback.

"I'm going to go look." Jaemin speaks up, looking to Mark, "You stay with Jisung."

Renjun's POV

“Hey, stupid. Wake up.” I shake the sleeping girl, needing to check to see if her condition has deteriorated or improved after a few hours of rest.

Once she wakes up, she reaches out to grab my wrist in caution. I wince as her nails dig into my skin. When the girl sees who I am, she starts to look around for a weapon. Not easing up the tight grip on my wrist one bit.

“Do you remember what happened?” I quiz. She pauses looking at me in confusion. It’s as this moment, when she begins to look around the rest of her surroundings. I take this time to look her over, noticing her pupils and skin color were back to normal.

Athena is visibly frightened, “I don’t–Why am I here?” Her grip is loosened, but still there.

“Well, you remember you were with that boy right by the river?” I test her memory.

“I remember you killed him. Jeno, I mean.” She breathes out, puzzled, “Why?”

I change the subject, “I guess your memories are okay.”

She winces and brings her hand up to her injury. Then, she notices her head had been cleaned and wrapped, “Did you do this?”

“I guess you’ll have to owe me one then.” I slap her hand away, reaching out to check the bleeding underneath the bandage on her head, "You're lucky I was even able to find this, considering you were the idiot who exploded all the supplies."

"How are you sure it was me?" She plays dumb, yet the corners of her mouth are twitching, trying to hide the smirk. She was proud of herself.

I reach into one of my pockets, pulling out a knife very familiar to her, "I found this in the debris. Nice one, genius."

"Weird. Never seen it before." The girl lies, nonchalantly.

"You've never been a good liar, you know,” I try to prove my point, “Tell me this, did you kill Haechan?”

She is unapologetically blunt, “Nah, I did that one.”

“By the way, you should probably open this." I handed her a crate.

Earlier while she was asleep, we both received sponsors. I guess the audience really liked the whole drama of what just happened. They really are suckers for anything that keeps them on their toes.

I watch as she opens the crate to see pills. I’m sure they’ll help with the horrible head pain she most likely has. She also opens a note, but I didn’t see what it said. I guessed it was probably from Taeyong. I watch as her face relaxes before she stuffs it away in her jacket pocket.

Just like I do every night, I step out of the Cornucopia to watch the announcements. Of course, today was a little different since I obviously knew who was going to show up. I didn't even have to be nervous since the one person who I internally hoped wouldn't show up was alive right beside me.

The same dumb anthem plays, which I was beginning to get annoyed of hearing. Floating in the sky is the symbol of, in my opinion, an deformed-looking bird. Underneath is blue words saying, "The Fallen."

Alarms start going off in my head, when I firstly see the girl from District 5 appear. This is because usually the deaths appear starting from the earlier districts. However, I brush it aside and continue watching, thinking he’ll appear later.

That is until the music stops. The young girl’s face fades away into nothing. For a few seconds, I find myself staring at a blank sky.

That could only mean one thing.

Lee Jeno is still alive.

I scan my surroundings, including all the trees. There's no way he could've gotten this far with a stab wound to the chest, right?

Noticing my uneasiness, the girl is looking up at me in confusion. I calmly walk in the Cornucopia, reaching to grab some things before I leave.

I finally explained to Athena, "Hey, you remember when I said you owed me? I think now sounds good.”

[plumwordies]

hello, everyone. i’ve been mulling over this piece for a while now. guess i finally put the time to write it down and hurt myself in the process lmao. this was originally supposed to be a readerxbakugou smut piece, but i got carried away (extremely) and ended up writing a whole angsty backstory to it inspired by the latest bnha chaps. what do you think? should i continue writing?

BURN

PART ONE

Dust.

The word was a relentless thrumming inside Bakugou’s head. He scrubbed some shampoo on his hair until it lathered, some of the substance pouring down his face. In front of him, the shower head was left open, steaming hot water raining down the cold tiles below.

When is the end?

Bakugou leaned his arm to the wall, the water from the shower falling down his body in cascades. His breathing was rough, each exhale emitting a puff of steam inside his small shower. Their small shower.

He thought about his mentors. Best Jeanist was missing. Hawks is wanted after escaping from his imprisonment sentence. Word around says he conspired with the League of Villains — now called the The Paranormal Liberation Front. Eraser Head is confined at the hospital in a comatose state, brought by an intense fight with Shigaraki Tomura, and Endeavor —

Bakugou stopped that train of thought. He turned his head down, teeth gritting hard. The villains were worthless, the whole lot of them. Probably thought everything was just a game. Lives lost, a fun activity. Cities damaged, people drowning in poverty — an entertaining past time. It’s been five months from the devastation already, and Bakugou couldn’t count the amount of heroes found dead. Murdered on the streets by villains or even the angry citizens of Mustafa. Gone were the days of systematic governance and disciplined living. Now, it was a hellhole. The rules were simple: it was a survival game of the fittest.

He guessed Endeavor wasn’t the fittest after all.

The day the number one hero fell was as clear in Bakugou’s mind like it just happened yesterday. Five months ago, him and Deku rushed to the disaster scene like the dumb fucks they were, and ended up being pushed away by Gran Torino.

“Run away, you fools!” Gran Torino yelled.

Little did they know, those would be his last words. Five months later, and his body still hasn’t been found.

Eraser Head rushed to the scene and engaged in an intense battle with Shigaraki Tomura. From the sidelines, Bakugou could do nothing but watch as his teacher fell to the ground from a strong blow by the monster. He fell so hard that the ground beneath him cracked. Bakugou never saw him breathe, and despite the hot anger that was building up in his core, the cold feeling in his hands were evident.

Still, he didn’t stop staring at staring at Eraser Head’s chest. No movement.

“Kacchan, we have to go.” It was Deku, pulling him away. This was unlike him. Deku was usually the type of person to act idiotic and go rogue, but it seems like Gran Torino’s words got to him. They must know something Bakugou didn’t. He saw Deku’s eyes tearing up from the sight of their teacher, yet he still wanted to flee?

Coward.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou violently shrugged his hand off before heading towards their teacher. Suddenly, Shigaraki Tomura landed on Eraser Head’s stomach, giving one final kick to his face. Bakugou saw their teacher’s head jerk to the side, seemingly lifeless.

Deku’s screaming in the background was nothing more than a whisper to Bakugou’s ears as he ran towards Shigaraki Tomura, seeing red. His mouth opened, letting out an angry shout as all the events rushed back to him: the kidnapping, the Nomus —

All Might.

Bakugou lunged for Shigaraki Tomura, right arm pulled pack and poised for a strong explosive blow. The latter merely stared up at him, face morphing into his signature smile.

And then it came.

Numbness. Pure, undiluted numbness, like a part of Bakugou’s body was submerged in deep water — and then nothing.

Pain.

An onslaught of white-hot searing pain wrenched over his body, literally ripping and cracking him apart. It came too fast that Bakugou couldn’t even make a sound. He only stared wide-eyed at his opponent’s face, the last thing he would see before the void.

“When I come back, everything turns to dust. It ends then.” Those were Shigaraki’s final words.

It ends then. It ends now.

This —

Bakugou remembered thinking.

— is Decay.

PART TWO

Bakugou woke up a few hours later in an abandoned building. He was propped up on the coarse wall, sitting. His body was so heavy, and somehow his eyesight was worse. Squinting, he made out a figure — Deku — sitting squat on the ground, facing the opposite way.

“Oi.” Bakugou grunted. He noticed the weakling’s shouders were shaking. “Are you deaf or something? Oi, Deku!” He kicked him in the back, forcing him to look his way.

“What the hell happened?” Bakugou groaned. Speaking hurt him so bad.

Deku’s lower lip quivered, not replying. It took all Bakugou had not to punch him. He was about to shout again at him when the latter spoke in a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

It was so soft that it was hard to catch.

“What are you on about?” Bakugou began. He saw Deku hitch his breath. “Sorry about what?” He shouted, making him flinch.

“Your arm, Kacchan. Your arm—“ Deku was crying so much that snot and saliva were dribbling down his chin. He scrambled to his knees and put his forehead to the ground.

“I’m so sorry.”

Bakugou then realized he couldn’t feel his arm — the right one, to be exact. He had just dismissed it earlier when he woke up, because his whole body was hurting so bad there wasn’t much distinction. A hollow, tingling feeling was running from his shoulder onwards.

With a sharp intake of breath, he looked down.

It was gone. His arm was gone. Nothing left but a rotten, cracking dry stump.

In all of his existence, Bakugou never doubted his quirk. It helped him immensely. It was strong, and its raw power gave him the comfort he needed as a young boy. It told him what he had was something the world needed.

But for Bakugou’s quirk to work, arms were required. Looks like the world will have to make do with just one.

Bakugou leaned his head on the wall behind him, looking up at the grey cement roof of the building. He didn’t breathe. Breathing felt too much like living.

“After you rushed over to Shigaraki, I used my quirk to get you out of the way.” It was Deku. He stuttered along his sentences. “It wasn’t enough. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t enough.”

“How bad is it?” Deku looked up and saw Bakugou staring down at him. An extended silence passed between them.

Why didn’t it end then?

“I couldn’t stop it... before it reached your face.”

Maybe it could still end now.

With Deku’s statement, Bakugou collapsed to the ground, slowly breathing again. Wisps of dust floated around him as he grinned, staring at the blank cement roof. He thought he was crying, but he felt no wetness down his cheeks. Maybe the decay got to his eyes and he couldn’t cry anymore. Maybe he was, deep inside, but who knows.

So he laughed.

Bakugou laughed while Deku screamed. Laughed as his friend stood up screaming, flailing and kicking rocks around them as he wailed like the crybaby he was. A piece of rubble flew and hit Bakugou in the face.

That’s what they were now: pieces of rubble in this crumbling society.

PART THREE

Bakugou turned the shower faucet until the water slowly dissipated, leaving arrhythmic drips on the floor and the occasional wisp of steam due to the heat. He stepped out of the wet floor, grabbed his towel and hung it around his waist with difficulty. He walked to the mirror, sliding his palm over it to remove the fog.

His image stared back at him, disoriented. The mirror they had was cheap but it was the only one they could afford. Nevertheless, it still served its purpose. Bakugou picked up his toothbrush and laid it on the sink, squeezing some toothpaste on it. He ran it under water and started brushing his teeth.

He was evidently getting skinnier as the days passed. The huge scar on the right sight of his face was turning an ugly grey color, and he was now half blind. His hair was a bit longer and quite dead, and of course the absence of his right arm brought an odd feeling to his body. A phantom limb.

He spit froth on the sink. He was past the stage of wishing it grew back now.

After him and Deku left the building five months ago, they passed by a local convenience store that played live news on their old television. A bunch of people were gathered around it, a nervous chatter among them. He remembered Deku who stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the broadcast.

“It’s Endeavor!” He shouted. Bakugou looked over his shoulder and saw that it was, indeed, Endeavor. But he was in bad shape.

“Citizens of Mustafa, as of now you can see our number one hero fighting it out with the head of the League of Villains!” The announcer spoke. “He is in critical condition — numerous injuries can be seen in his body and his movements have been slowing down since earlier, but we still hold high hope for our new symbol of peace! Everyone, let’s support him!”

The people around them had mixed emotions. Some were cheering and some were muttering. Bakugou couldn’t help but frown as he stared at the ongoing fight. It was hard to believe that he was the one there earlier, almost dead. He saw Endeavor avoiding a fatal blow from Shigaraki Tomura, and furrowed his eyebrows.

Don’t make the same mistake I did.

The fight went on for a long time, and things weren’t looking good for the hero. Bakugou knew that if he looked at Deku right now the green-haired boy would be standing rigid, chest taut, and fists clenched. His eyes would be shining with hope.

The same hope that Bakugou still holds stupidly.

As always, death comes at an unexpected time. Bakugou knew that firsthand. He knew, yet couldn’t predict it. Nobody in the city could. That’s what made the system so fragile, so easy to break at any given moment.

All it took was a rock.

As Endeavor stepped back, ready to deliver another strong blow, he stepped on a particularly odd shaped rock and threw off his balance. With baited breath, Bakugou saw his own self in the number one hero, who held pride in their own self and quirk, get snuffed out by the waiting hands of injustice.

Bakugou and Deku were stuck on their feet. They weren’t the only ones. Everyone in the whole city were probably the same at that moment — standing, dreaming —

Hoping.

Shigaraki Tomura smiled, and grabbed Endeavor by the wrist.

Bakugou could feel exactly what the number one hero felt at that moment. As he stilled, not able to do anything but watch as decay ran in a current from his arms, to his shoulders, to his throat, and to his head.

In just a second, Shigaraki Tomura managed to destroy a whole nation.

PART FOUR

A few minutes after the broadcast shut down suddenly, the news switched to a live press conference. All Might was there in the center, holding a microphone. Numerous journalists were around the room, clicks and flashes of their cameras in a frenzy.

“We declare a nationwide surrender.” He began. “The villains have managed to dominate the heroes in such a short amount of time, and with the fall of our current number one hero—“ His voice cracked. “We cannot ensure that the heroes have the capability to ensure safety of the citizens. We don’t know what they are planning, or what they will do next.”

An onslaught of questions were shouted in his way, but he held up a hand to them, silencing the room immediately.

“All we are asking for is for the people to fend for themselves momentarily until the heroes can establish a new system to follow. That’s all. Thank you.” The statement was so absurd, so stupid that it left more questions than answers. The whole room erupted in chaos, but All Might calmly put the microphone down on the podium, and walked out.

Two symbols of hope down in one day.

This was it? Was this what Bakugou’s whole life led to? War?

Bakugou eyed Deku who was right beside him. His head was hung down, and no emotion could be deduced on his face. He just saw All Might — his god, his father figure, and his mentor, selling all of them to the villains like pig meat and running away.

It ends then.

By the time the tears fell from Deku’s eyes, Bakugou was gone.

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

Call me Pride

I'm eager and maybe just a little dumb because I was REALLY eager to write the 'whys ' of Roman's fall and... Yeah...  I tweaked a lot. Anyway this is loosely based on this prompt https://vaugleysassygrunt.tumblr.com/post/186357032949/whoa-okay-hear-me-out-here-open-prompt-but and was started before the recent episodes so Deceit's still nameless and the reasoning has nothing to do with All That.

Warnings for Unsympathetic Roman, Sympathetic Logan, Patton, Deceit and Remus, Toxic Roceit, Pride slaps someone, and sexual and violent humor (though nothing explicit happens.)

Roman knew this was coming. He had once again failed to create a video and it was time to get another lecture from Logic about scheduling and due dates. Ugh, for once he didn't want to respond when he was summoned. But he knew if he didn't rise up he'd be forced to come out unless he locked himself in his room and he certainly wasn't going to duck out over a matter like this. With a huff, he rose up.

Logic was starring at him, he always felt judged when he looked at him like that. Brown eyes narrowed through his rounded frames. "Roman, Thomas claimed that he was unable to create this weeks video due to quote 'lack of creative fervor'." He made air quotes with his hands when he said that, "And considering this is your department I believe it is of utmost importance to hear from you what is going on."

Roman shook his head, "Feeling as Princely as ever." He posed as if to prove it.

Logan looked at him for a few seconds and hummed curiously. Roman felt naked as he was starring at him, like the Logical side was reading his mind and noticing every unsavory flaw. He could barely hide his relief when he turned back to Thomas.

"Perhaps the others could help shine a metaphorical light on this situation."

Thomas nodded and moved his hand up, "Anxiety, Morality." He called summoning the two. Virgil looked even more anxious than usual, his eye shadow slightly smeared and his leg bouncing where he stood. Roman felt a twang of guilt in his chest.

"Virgil, Patton, can either of you explain why Thomas has not been creatively productive lately." Logan asked.

Patton cocked his head, "Not a clue Scooby Doo."

"I am not a fictional dog that helps a gang of people solve problems. I am a representation of Thomas's Logic you should know this by now."

"Yeah but the rhyme sure was neat!"

Virgil raised an eyebrow, "Haven't we done this before? Like, two times? It's probably going to be repetitive to the audience if we make yet another episode dealing with Logan and Roman having problems creating videos. They might think you're complaining to make them feel bad for you. Or worse, they might get bored and leave."

Patton struggled to keep his cheerful smile, "Aw come on now kiddo, sometimes lessons just take a bit to stick. The audience will understand that."

Logan frowned, "Returning to the topic at hand, if it isn't an excess of Anxiety, or moralizing your work that's causing this problem." He knit his brows and his lips pursed, "Is it me again?" He turned to Roman, " Roman, please tell me if I am once again putting too much pressure on you to create. I said I would work on being less, " he cleared his throat, "Overbearing but I'm not used to it yet."

He looked Roman in the eyes, "If I have failed in that recently, I would rather be told then to live in ignorance of my mistakes, as hard as that may be."

Roman hesitated, he knew the truth. This had nothing to do with Logan, or Virgil, or Patton. He'd lied about feeling like his Princely Self, he telt like his creations this last moth had been lackluster at best. Not even half as good as they needed to be to be taken to the front of Thomas's conscious. 

But he couldn't tell the others that, they would think he was insecure and if there was one thing Roman wasn't, it was insecure.

Instead he said, "I admit, the schedule has stopped me from being the best Prince that I can be. "He looked at the ground, mostly due to his own guilt over lying, he didn't want to see Logan's face. He didn't want to see how Virgil's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I see... Next time I promise I will ask for your input when building our scheduled to stop you from feeling so overwhelmed. "

Roman forced a small smile, "Thanks teach." He cleared his throat, " And with that I've got some things to create! "He sunk out returning to his room. He sighed and slumped on his bed, closing his eyes, giving a groan like a door with unoiled hinges. He felt like taking an hour long nap.

He heard a slow cap above him. "Oh bravo, Roman." A familiar voice drawled. He reached for his sword, staring face to face with the snake himself. His confident smirk didn't leave his face despite the sword at his nose. "I honestly couldn't have done it better myself."

Roman glared at him, "You better have a good reason for being in my room snakes -and-liars."

Deceit chuckled, "Oh but surely you've noticed Roman," he circled around him, Roman's sword texture changed to foam as his confidence wavered. "I bet it took you ages to find an outfit of yours that white."

Roman barely held back a growl. He was right of course, even as he stood here his golden epaulets were turning a sterling silver like the others.

"I’m sure Patton will never find out about your little secret. He's so unobservant." Deceit said, looking at his fingernails despite the fact that he was wearing gloves. "No one's ever tried to hide their nature from him after all." He smiles with a glint in his eye that made Roman's heart pound. "Which means we'll never see each other again Roman. "He blew a kiss and sunk out back to his side of the mindscape.

----

Remus kept glancing at the end of the hallway. He'd been checking since last Thursday when Deceit told him about how Roman was changing,but he couldn't help it! It'd been years since his brother had been on the same side as him. His stomach was doing flip flops like a fish out of water five seconds from the butcher chopping him into pieces. He wondered if he'd be willing to play with him. He could barely hide his cackle when he thought of the havoc they'd wreak together!

In the void a new door was starting to form, Remus squealed with delight and ran to Deceit's door, "DECEIT! DECEIT!" He squealed as he banged on the bright yellow door, "He's coming, he's coming!"

Deceit opened the door, his sleeping cap slightly askew , his eyes tired, "Remus how many times do I have to tell you I have no interest in the details of the porn you watch?"

Remus shakes his head, "No no, not that, though you should SEE what I was watching earlier, oh the things a man can do with whips." he moaned and squirmed but quickly shook his head, no Remus, focus. " But that's not what I meant! There's a new door in the hall! "

Deceit suddenly seems far more awake as he walked out into the hallway standing next to Remus. The pair watched as the symbol of a bright red throne with a silver tiara above it etched itself into the door. Remus was slightly confused by why his symbol would change, but hey, if his brother hadn't changed a little bit he wouldn't be down here! 

The door glowed and finally opened revealing him in all his glory, the midnight colored prince outfit with silver twinges along his neck and wrists, the bright red cape that flowee across his back, the silver tiara glimmering with jewels that looked just as much a part of him as his hands or toes. 

Remus couldn't help himself and tackled his brother to the ground, "ROMAN! Is that blood on your cape? It's the same color, can I lick it?"

 Roman grunted and sat himself up, "Hello Remus, nice to see you here. Ruining my clothing with your filth." Deceit offered his hand to Roman to help him up and he took it. 

 "As if any amount of filth could affect your radiance your Highness." Deceit purred.

Roman puffed his hair, "Oh I know, but I hate getting dirty." 

Remus huffed a bit, it seemed like his brother was still himself in some ways. But he wouldn't give up hope that quickly. "ROMAN RO RO RO, since you're a darkside now, we have to play together in the imagination together again, ohhh we could give Thomas the NASTIEST thoughts, you haven't seen Mr. Poo yet! Oh you'll love him, he just has the cutest little fangs-"

Roman frowned, "I don't think I like that."

Remus blinked, " Mr. Poo? "

Roman shook his head, "No no, that's..." He rolled his eyes, "Fine I guess. That name you called me. "

"Roman? But that's your name."

Roman shook his head, "But I don't feel like Roman. Until I find a name that feels more suitable, you may call my by my role." He straightened himself up, a glittering smile on his face, " Pride. "

Deceit held Pride's hand in his own and kissed him gently, "Charmed."

Pride looked back at him, flashing that dazzling smile, "The feeling's mutual."

Remus looked from one side to the other, "Are you two going to fuck or can I take him to the Imagination."

Deceit’s face burned a bright red but Pride seemed relatively unbothered, “Feel free to lead the way.” 

Remus’s face broke into his usual wide smile and he grabbed Pride’s hand sinking them into his room. The lights in the room flashed, quickly switching colors randomly. There was something leaking against the wall, it was either slime or blood it was nearly impossible to tell with the constant NOISE of the place. From the loud screams at random intervals, to the shepherds tones that rose endlessly in the background. Pride walked around carefully but still managed to step on one of Remus’s 5 living hands that slept on the floor. He shrieked as it bit his shoes with unnaturally sharp teeth. Remus flicked it off of him and it quickly flew off. 

“Ah, finally!” He said, as he found a small doorknob on the ground. He opened it up and the room was filled with the pale yellow light of the imagination. He grabbed Roman by the shoulders, “Okay, as soon as you get there, don’t panic. Just summon wings or some other method to fly.” His grin widened, eyes sparkling, “Think you can handle it?”

Pride looked confused at first than puffed out his chest when Remus asked his question, “Of course I can.” 

Remus gave a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand and the pair of them jumped into the hole. The sky was a dark and stormy grey, it looked like there was going to be another knife storm. Remus closed his eyes and felt dark, leathery wings errupt from his back. He frowned, debating on the color, did he want to keep them black or change to green, or maybe he could have it flash the worst version of every color! Shit-stain brown, puke green, mustard yellow oh what delight! 

At first he assumed the screaming came from one of his screaming trees, they played the most haunting melodies when it rained, but when he looked down he instead saw a flash of red light hurling towards the ground. He gasped and divebombed to catch him, his repeated thought of, "Don 't imagine long, dark piercing spikes under us ready to break into our stomachs, impaling us both," of course summoned long , dark piercing spikes below them. 

Pride's screams only grew louder as he flaid about trying to grab onto something, anything that would stop him from hitting the harsh unforgiving ground. He could almost feel the rocks touching his stomach and pushong through-

Lucky for him though, Remus swooped down, catching him before he hit the rocks. He sat him down on the sandy ground, his eyes watered, though whether that was due go concern or the speed he'd been flying at was anyone's guess.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice was more gentle than he'd usually seem capable of. 

Pride sneered, "I'm fine, thanks for the rocks, bet it made you feel even more like a hero when you saved me huh? " 

Remus stepped back, genuinely confused, "That made as much sense as Woody fucking Palpatine."

Pride harrumphed, and took a step foreward, "You know exactly what I mean, you've always wanted to outshine me and now you've given yourself the chance to play the hero in here and pretend to save me. But guess what," he pressed a finger against Remus's chest. "I don't need anyone to help me or save me much less a disgusting little turd like you. I'm not pathetic little Roman anymore, I am strength, I am perfection, I am Prince Pride! "

Remus stared at him for a bit.

"The dust on your butt is shaped like a dick."

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

Pride and Remus weren't talking anymore. Remus chewed on a can whistfully sitting in his room, "Just like old times. " Except during, 'old times ' Deceit wasn 't spending so much time simping to his brother. It was enough to make him puke hearing him compliment him, watching them ballroom dance in the kitch together the snake-side's head gently fit onto Pride's chest. Despite his distaste at their sentimentallity, he couldn't help but feel a little happy for them. 

Until he wasn't that is. It was breakfast time.

"It was merely a suggestion -"Deceit backed away, but Pride pursued

"You think I'm WRONG? ! "Fire raged in the side's eye, "You think we'd be better off if Thomas ruins his LIFE-"

"It's one friendship Pride, and it's been far from healthy for Thomas to be involved in it."

The sound of a hand against skin echoed through the kitchen. There was a silence that lasted decades. Then the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor. Remus stood up and walked up to Pride who was looking down smugly at Deceit. Remus turned him around and grabbed him by the collar, "You can insult me, you can mock me, do whatever you want. But you will not. Touch. Him."

Pride huffed, "He shouldn't have argued with me! He's really the one who -" 

Remus summoned a dirty sock and shoved it into his mouth, than threw him to the side. He walked up to Deceit, "Do I have permission? " 

Deceit looked up with blurry, tear stained eyes and gave a nod. And just like that he was in the Light Side KItchen.

"ALRIGHT, HOW MANY BITCHES DO I HAVE TO KILL TO FIND OUT WHICH OF YOU BWSTARDS FUCKED UP MY BROTHER?!" Remus was as always a master of subtlty and persuation. Patton jumped about 10 feet just hearing his voice. Virgil bristled and hissed at him

Logan sighed, he supposed his pancakes would have to wait,"Good morning Remus."

Remus shook his head, "No pleasantries, Romwn fell and now he's a real pain in the ass, like a full sized plane up my ass, and I KNOW sides don't just go dark and change personalities for no reason so-" he poin ted at Patton, "What did you do to him?! "

Patton shook his head, "I-I didn 't- well okay I made him sink to the dark sides but-"

Logan adjusted his glasses, "He was starting to show unpleasant tendencies far before that. Patton decided that he'd be safer away from us after a disscussion in which he said," he took out a notecard, "You never let me live, you're all terrible critical beasts who I should have slain with my sword ages ago! If it weren't for you, Thomas would be perfect, I would be perfect, I'm sicm of being around you." he returned his notecard to his pocket.

Remus stared, "So it has nothing to do with you, than why? "

Virgil poured a glass of coffee black as his soul, "I don't know, none of us knows. Can't believe I'm saying this but I kind of miss the ego-driven Prince. "

Logan looked over his notes, "I have some theories but emotional reactions aren't really my area of expertise."

Remus rubbed his mustache as he thought it over, than his eyes turned bright and manic, "Do any of you have a battering ram?"

They all stare at him blankly, Patton's the first one to say anything, "Why?"

"To break into old Princy's room of course!"

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

A Year Without - Part Ten

Here is the final installment of my short story A Year Without. I hope you enjoyed this ansty smutty ride. Thank you for reading my sweets!

Warning: Blood and gore, and lots of angsty bullshit!

 The door insight, you raced for it gripping the door handle anxiously. A deep breath and a hard swallow, you prepared yourself for what was to come, the fight, the possibility of failure, you were one woman barely trained. If you were going down, you weren’t going down without a fight and trying your damnedest to free the four turtle brothers from Karai’s maniacal gluttonous fingers. If you failed it meant your death and her irrefutable control over them.

 Your stomach churned gripping the red hilt of Raphael’s sai, you had to do this, you had to put a stop to these people. At least you had to try, if not just for the guys freedom but for the city of New York. If Karai had the four highly training and extremely strong mutants all under her control there would be no mercy and no hope left for its’ people, the foot would take control without a doubt. No fucking pressure, right?

Your fingers clenched around the cool handle and turned hurtling your weight into the swinging door.

With practiced aim you launched the forked weapon, pointy ends racing towards the doctor which held the secrets to the serum. If he was gone, they couldn’t make more, there would be no more threat of control, that is if you could destroy what he had made already.

 The aim was true, and Dr. Langston looked up just in time to see the weapon hurdling towards his face. His eyes closed awaiting death but a green blur stopped everything leaving the Doctor alive but shaking from the near-death moment.

 Raphael’s hand was free up in the air and his thick green digits were wrapped around the hilt of his weapon stopping the sai millimeters from piercing the good doctor’s fine bone structure. What a pity.

 Your mouth hung open, breath refusing to return to your lungs. Midair, he had stopped the very sharp sai mid-fucking-air. Raphael saved him, saved Dr Langston.

 A sickening laughter erupted from Karai’s mouth taking your attention away from the doctor’s relieved to be alive reaction.

 “I don’t know how you got free you little cunt but you’re too fucking late.” Her wicked smile widened as you noticed the four mutants rise slowly coming quickly to their full heights. “Look at her my pets, turn to see your next mission.” Karai cooed sweetly to her new toys and they obeyed turning to face you.

 Their eyes were the first thing you noticed, dull and grey hues returned to Leonardo’s once blue iris’s, his three younger brothers matching their leader’s. Emotionless and void of feeling, maybe a hint of confusion as they stared at you with empty stares, no doubt awaiting orders.

 Fuck fuckty fuck, this was bad, very bad, so bad, how did you end up here? It was time to wake up, this horrible fucked up dream needed to end…NOW! The blood froze in your veins, you were too late, at their feet lay four empty syringes, the control serum now coursing through their veins, taking over, stealing them all away.  

 “Guys?” you mewled out helplessly to your ex-lover and friends hoping your fruitless plea would reach them.

 Just then your arms were gripped and mercilessly pinned to your sides, the remaining weapons you had confiscated were ripped from your person. Four foot ninja took hold taking away the last of your resolve, it was over. There was no way you could win now. Your only hope was to survive and try to make a break for it. You needed help.

 Karai’s smiled widened further, her long white fingers pointing eagerly to you, “Kill her for me my pets.” Her voice dripped with venom giving the order to end your life.

 It took them a moment to move, their arms and legs lethargic as they shifted forward mechanically, nothing like Leo was when you first saw him a few days ago. The serum must still be working its way through them, not fully absorbed into their cerebellums.

 Donatello lumbered forward first his long arms outstretched gripping his bo staff that was held out for him. Each of the foot ninja’s eyes that held you firm were concentrating on the four giant turtles advancing towards them, uneasy looks plastered on their faces. They were distracted, perfect.

 Leaning back into the hold, you lifted your legs and thrust them forward into Donnie’s plastron. The kick that followed sent all four of the ninjas holding you backwards landing on their back. Their shock allowed you freedom for their grasp and you scrambled to your feet taking off down the hallway towards uncertain freedom. You could hear Karai’s screaming in the distance for the turtles to go after you.

 “Failure will not be tolerated!” she retorted angrily out into the hallway, no doubt at the four mutants now hot on your trail.  

 Thankfully with their bodies still not fully adapted to the serum they were not able to utilize their full bodies motor skills and ninja stealth. Their usually silent foot falls were heavy and loud allowing you to gage just how far back they were. You didn’t dare to turn around but by the deafening smacks of their feet made it apparent they were catching up…quickly.

 You could see the stairs in front of you, sweet beacons of light that would bring up above ground to hopefully the main doors and your freedom. That was if you could escape the four mutants scrambling for your capture a few feet behind you.  You could make it, you could make it, just a little further!

 But your hope ran out as a large three fingered hand grabbed hold of your shoulder yanking your down. Your body tumbled and rolled and came to a crashing halt at the bottom of the stairs. Nearly upside down you watched the four turtle brothers hover over you, eyes bleak and cold. Mikey and Raph moved first hoisting you up and yanking her arms painfully behind your back. You yelped crying out at the searing pain as Raph couldn’t withhold his brute strength ripping your shoulder from its socket. It lay limp and burning with a horrid throbbing pain in his overzealous mitts.

 Leo and Donnie stood before you their weapons strapped to their backs. The blue hilts and flowing ribbon of Leonardo’s katana hung high on his shell, once a symbol of truth and honor were most likely going to be your undoing.

 One dead arm throbbed in Raphael’s grasp, unmoving but you rustled the one in Mikey’s hands, yanking and pulling, getting absolutely nowhere. “Guys its me! Y/N! Come on snap out of it!” you screamed feeling the hot rush of tears as they started to cascade down your dirty cheeks. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t happen! You couldn’t be killed by the people you loved the most.

Soon Karai and a small army of foot ninja sauntered up behind Leo and Donnie, a wide victory smile plastered across her beautifully pale features. “Leo my love.” Her fingers running delicately over the dense muscles of his biceps. “I want you to do it and I want you to look her in the eyes while your katana slices through her innards like warm butter.” Her fingers reached for his chin pulling his face towards her and pressed a sloppy kiss to his unresponsive lips.

 His attention never faltered from you, grey eyes honed in unwavering, the subtle flash of blue under the grey did not go unnoticed by you.

 A surge of words started to spill from your mouth but Karai lifted her finger and Mikey’s massive hand clamped down silencing you.

 Leonardo’s shaky hand raised above his head grabbing the blue hilt of a katana unsheathing the deadly weapon slowly. The scrap of the scabbard and metal was ear piercing and as it slipped free from its confines the leader in blue swirled the long blade in his hand and positioned the glinting tip at your clothed abdomen. His other hand came to meet the other already covering the hilt to gain extra strength to push and you felt the tip piece through the first layer of skin.

 The pain was immediate, it felt hot and cold at the same time as the blade sunk agonizingly slow into your flesh. Each layer gave way to the metal slipping and gliding into the muscles with ease of your stomach’s core parting it wide open. The searing pain erupted into hot waves of agony when the end of his katana slipped passed the thick barricade of your soft outer shell entering into the space which housed your internal organs.

 You screamed into Mikey’s hand, thrashing, eyes wide, pupils dilated to black. Now you could feel the rush of blood escaping passed the cold katana rolling freely down your stomach coating your borrowed clothes. His eyes were still locked in on yours, equally as wide and the grey pupils were pulsating, and his breathing was growing more and more uneven. The ever forward motion of the blade stopped, and Leo’s mouth opened letting out soundless words as his lips moved on their own. Then you heard a croak beside him, and your eyes shot to Donnie, this hands were clenched at his sides and his mouth also open moving but producing no sound. Even their legs were trembling threatening to collapse under them.

 Karai nodded to Michelangelo and his hand lifted away allowing you to suck in cold air into your burning lungs. Your mouth opened gaped like a fish out of water unable to form words under the overwhelming surge of pain as Leo pushed forward yet again. The breath you had just took caught in your throat and you gasped. Everything went numb inside you, pain, fear, sorrow all seemed to pour from the open wound Leo have made and collided onto the floor splattering at yours and the four pair of green feet.

 As the darkness began to creep into your vision you started to feel Raphael and Mickey shake, it was subtle at first growing rapidly into violent tremors. Their hands were fluttering, opening and closing around your forearms and then like an ear rupturing bellow, Raphael screamed. Leo followed second, then Mikey and Donnie. With the remaining strength you saw their eye colors returned, they were free, somehow.

 Leo’s hands relinquished the blade embedded in your stomach and stepped back. His hands shook violently trying to decide if he should reach for you but Karai made up that choice for him. She was aware they were free of her control.

 She screamed and lunged for Leo and the pain and horror that had filled his handsome features soured into something demonic. His face darkened and his demeanor fluctuated between revulsion and fury and he over took the kunoichi. There was no stopping him now as his second katana was ripped free.

 All at once it happened and you were free falling, too weak to stop it, your legs gave out under you and the ceiling came into view as your body tumbled for the ground. Then just as quickly, it stopped, and Donatello’s horrified face came into view. His hands were on you but keeping a safe distance from the katana protruding from you. He was talking, asking unknown questions, but it didn’t matter you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood flowing through your ears. You were dying but at least they were free. At least they have a chance now…….. together they could over power Karai and her ninja. They have Leo back, their leader.

 Cold and darkness rushed up to meet you as Donatello’s feature began to blur. The thundering of blood slowed allowing you to hear the battle rage on around you but it sounded so quite. Like it was far away.

 “Y/N, stay awake. I’ve got you. Everything will be ok…. Y/N? Y/N?!” Donnie was screaming now, why was he screaming? The docile brother never screamed. Quite down Donnie, you were tired. You just wanted to sleep, no needed to sleep and you were cold, you hated being cold. Slowly the fog faded to dark and you slipped free into the endless void of nothingness. It was lonely.

 Floating was nice, it was warm and soft, no pain, no screaming just a steady beep and Michelangelo’s sweet voice. He was reading. Who was he reading too?

 Suddenly a soft rolling ebb of pain rolled through your stomach and you moaned from her heat of it. “Mutherfucker.”

 “Y/N?” Mikey’s voice had risen in tone and stopped reading. You heard the book hit the ground with a heavy smack and his hands were on your face. “DONNIE! LEO! RAPH! SENSEI!” He was being so fucking loud. Fucking rude!

 Then a thundering could be heard and three voices.

 “Is she waking up?” Raphael’s booming voice echoed in the vast space of what could only be Donnie’s lab. DONNIE LAB! You were alive and back in the lair! Your eyes shot open and you tried to sit up and yowled at the hot stabbing pain at the sudden movement.

 “Careful Y/N, I don’t want you ripping out your stitches.” Donnie was above you again, then Raph, Mikey and the furry face of Master Splinter. Eyes wide with worry they all started talking all at once.

 A face was missing, a very familiar face that you wanted to see the most. Groaning you turned your head and saw Leonardo a few feet from where you lay, his posture timid and unsure. He was scared to be near you? When the throbbing pain ebbed again you remembered his katana sticking out of your gut.

 “K-karai?” you winced out between the stabs of pain.

 Donnie hurried to your IV drip and added something in a syringe into the bag, “This will help with the pain. And let’s just say the foot won’t be bothering up for quite a while.”

 Raphael grabbed your hand making you focus in on him, “Leo went fucking berserk, well actually all of us did besides Don. He had more important things to handle like keeping you from dyin’ on us. After everything calmed down there was a lot of blood and too many bodies to count but if I remember right Karai is down an arm. Leo made a clean swipe and it fell to the floor in a satisfying slap. It was fucking beautiful. Stupid fucking bitch will be out of commission for a while if she didn’t die from blood loss escaping out the back.”

 Your eyes moved back to Leo who was now watching you intently and your hand reached out urging him forward to take it. He looked back to the floor and took a few heavy breaths and willed his feet to move. When his warm hand slid into yours you felt your heart swell and warm.

 It was going to be a hard road to recovery, not only physically but probably more mentally. You could tell by Leo’s standoffish behavior it was going to take some time to get him to relax around you. There was much to make up for, none which was his fault but to the honor bound ninja he would be bound and determined to make amends. The tight grip of his hand was the first on many steps that would need to be taken.  

 End

Whole story 

 @imthegreenfairy88​ @southernblossoms​ @naturigurl​ @waterstar2016​ @moonlightflower21​ @blossom-skies​ @midnightrebel669​

[icanhearyouglaring]

paris, or wherever we are - pt.1

summary: They get a second chance and don’t waste a minute of it.  pairing: wally/artemis (canon up to s3-midseason)  a/n: if i dont write a fix-it fic every six months, i will literally cease to exist. this is my burden and my curse. i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and figured I’d post to help boost morale post-ep 23. this is part 1. 

“Victor, no!” 

Somehow, in all the chaos of battle, the sound of Halo’s cry catches Artemis’s ear. Artemis swings her sword upwards and cuts through the Apokoliptian drone that’d been heading for her head. She spins around quickly, trying to find Halo’s aura in the fray of the invasion, but all she can make out is Victor, firing a beam from his arm cannon into the giant boom tube in the sky. The beam grows in width, engulfing Victor in a blinding light. Artemis gasps.

"Oh, fuck.”

Artemis takes one step towards the light, but a hand grasps hers and pulls her back. 

“Run!” Dick shouts, tugging her along towards the relative safety of the city.

Artemis runs behind him, letting Dick guide her as she watches the light grow. Static flies past them, carrying an unconscious Jeff behind him on a metal door. Geoforce joins them in their mad dash away from the light, surfacing from beneath the ground beside them.

There, she thinks, catching sight of Halo, shining bright white, running straight into the light. No!

Artemis tugs her hand out of Dick’s grip, and starts turning back. “Halo!” 

The light fills the boom tube and the tube begins to destabilize. Streaks of light steam out of the tube, firing down on downtown Coast City. The tall buildings bear the brunt of the impact, and the earth shakes, and glass rains from the near infinite amount of broken windows. It’d be a magnificent sight if it weren’t so horrifying.

“Everyone down!” is all the warning Artemis gets before Dick tackles her to the ground. 

A beam of light strikes the side of the building beside them, and pieces of stone fall in the place they’d once been. Dick rolls off of her and helps her up, and it’s then they notice the stone that would’ve crushed them both is still hovering above their heads, and the ground they’d been standing on is a few feet lower than it had been a second ago. Brion cools down and leaves the ground where he left it as Tara moves the stone to build a barrier between them and the light. 

“Are you all alright?” Tara asks, running down a staircase of her own creation. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Artemis breathes out, staring at the sky. “Look.”

The white light turns to blue, then to green, to yellow, to orange, to red, until all of the colors start blending together in uneven waves and pulses. 

“That can’t be good,” Brion notes, his eyes wide.

He’s right. A second after the words leave his mouth, the boom tube collapses completely, and the light snaps. The sound is louder than anything Artemis ever heard before, and she clasps her hands over her ears just like everyone else. It bowls them over, leaving them disoriented and unable to hear anything but a low-buzzing in their heads. 

It takes a long minute but Artemis stumbles back to her feet and makes her way up the wall as fast as she can.

“Halo!” Artemis yells, hoping the girl will reveal herself in the stark darkness. There is no sign of Halo or Victor in the empty expanse that once was Liberty Park. 

Artemis jumps down from the wall and makes her way towards the epicenter with uncentered balance. 

“Victor!” Artemis calls, her pulse racing as the seconds tick by with no sign of either of them. No, no, no, no, no. 

She can feel Dick at her heels, shouting something she can’t quite hear or understand, but her focus remains on reaching the still-smoldering spot where the kids once stood. Shit, shit, shit.

When she reaches edge of the crater left behind by the blast, she falls to her knees. The vast crater is completely empty. Nothing. 

“No,” she says thickly, her brows pinched. “No.” 

A hand falls on her shoulder, and Artemis turns around, only to be engulfed in a tight hug. The familiar fabric of Halo’s suit brushes against her skin and it sends her into tears. Artemis hugs her friend tightly.

“You’re okay!” Artemis laughs, pulling back from the hug to see Halo’s smiling face. 

Halo speaks, but none of the words break through the buzzing in Artemis’s ears. 

“I can’t hear you–” Artemis points at her ears, “–the boom, it– I can’t hear– Is it over? Where’s Victor?”

Halo stops talking and takes Artemis’s face between her hands. She mouths some words, but in the darkness, Artemis is only able to catch the last word. She raises a brow. 

“Souvenir?” Artemis asks, tilting her head. 

Halo nods giddily before pointing at the others gathered behind her. All Artemis makes out is the back of Dick and Brion’s heads standing out above the heads of the rest of M’gann’s team. Victor is there, too, leaning against Forager. Artemis releases a small breath. Safe.

“What?” Artemis asks, turning back to Halo. 

Halo shakes her head, grabs Artemis’s hands, and flies up, pulling Artemis into the air with her. Artemis’s head spins from the sudden movement, and it isn’t until Halo places her in the center of the circle that her vision clears and the buzzing in her ears is replaced by the sudden silence of the people surrounding her. 

Artemis steadies herself, turns around, and freezes. Her eyes take in the bright yellow and red of the suit, the broken goggles around his neck, and the violent scar running along the right side of his jawline. It has to be a joke, a horrible, terrible, cruel, unforgivable joke, because this– this is impossible– this is unreal– this is–

“Artemis,” Wally says breathlessly, pulling himself out of Dick’s grip to step towards her. “Long time no see.” 

He closes the gap between them in two short steps but it feels like an eternity before he’s standing in front of her. Wally holds his hand just beside her cheek, hovering so close she can feel the heat radiating from his ungloved hand. He keeps his hand there for a long moment, and his eyes hold hers as though if he touches her she’ll disappear. Artemis’s own hand moves of its own accord, stopping a centimeter away from the flash symbol on Wally’s chest. They both exhale before making the slightest of contact with each other. 

It’s not a joke. Artemis bites at her lip to keep from crying out, but that does nothing to stem the onslaught of tears in her eyes. It’s not impossible.  

“No kidding,” escapes Artemis’s lips in the smallest of whispers, as she moves her shaking hand up his suit to his face. She cradles the edge of his jaw in her palm as her fingers trace the scar running up his cheek. 

“You’re really here,” Artemis manages to say, before she wraps her arms over his shoulders and pulls him close. He returns the tight embrace and her feet lift off the ground.

“I’m really here,” Wally repeats, like even he can’t believe it.

“Yeah, you are, man,” Dick says, clapping Wally on the back and laughing in between lingering sobs. 

Artemis releases Wally from her death grip before taking his face between her hands and pulling him in for a kiss, and another, and another, and one more for good measure. 

When they pull back, they’re both laughing and crying, and holding each other close. Dick pulls them both into a hug, which leads to all three of them falling to their knees. Wally sits on the ground and pulls Artemis into his lap while Dick wraps his arms around them both from the side. Artemis stays pressed firmly against Wally’s chest, her arms wrapped around him, but she makes room for Dick to place his head on Wally’s shoulder and quietly cry. 

Everyone is talking, cheering, crying, but Artemis only registers the sound of M’gann’s quick scream behind the lingering ringing in her ears. She can’t see the others from her position or through her tears, but Artemis sure feels the impact when M’gann crashes into their dogpile and extends her arms around them all. Conner is next to join the mix as he reaches into the pile, finds Wally’s forearm through all the limbs, and holds on tight. Kaldur is last, settling on placing his hand atop Wally’s head and falling to his knees beside M’gann. 

Artemis shuts her eyes tightly as the laughs and sobs keep coming, from all edges of their little circle. She drinks in this moment and bottles it up, storing it in her mind for when they all regain some semblance of composure. But who could blame them?

“Holy shit,” Wally says, his head bowed near Artemis’s ear, “I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too.” 

[mama-m1na]

The Journey of a Witch: Chapter 5

                                                   ~~~V~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course seeing the same dream Asra got up as well, putting on a shirt as Rhamina ran into the bathroom to put on a bra before they rushed out into the hall to see the other girls frantically moving as well.

“Mother fucker going to touch my damned kids,” Rhamina spat running down the stairs without any shoes as the others followed.

“Asra, find them real quick and keep them from leaving the city if you can,” Rhamina ordered as she stormed off into one of the back rooms.

The male nodded before her glowed a soft lavender color before the form of a snake was left where he stood but it didn’t stay long as it slithered out of the shop in search for the child.

“So what exactly is going on with my child?” Aurora asked as she watched Rhamina put on fingerless gloves that had wiccan symbols embroidered into them and attach a belt with a sheathed saber to her waist.

“That one shady customer we had the other day, remember him?” Rhamina asked as she checked a pair of flintlock pistols before throwing them to Kerstin, “He was a member of the fucking Antidote.”

“And they took Selene?” Sophie asked catching a silver colored halberd the ravenette tossed at her, “Why though?”

“Yeah, if they wanted to rid the world of magic wouldn’t they just kill her instead of kidnapping her?” Chloe asked taking a dagger Rhamina handed her.

“I don’t know,” she hissed throwing a crossbow and a katana at Tijarah and Sam respectively, “it’s fucking retarded and doesn’t make sense!”

“That fucker was obviously a magic user, why did he help them?!” Rhamina fumed as the temperature around them dropped dramatically, “Hannah grab the longsword and Aurora I don’t trust you with any blades so go get the hammer.”

“So do you have a plan?” Hannah asked as they stepped out into the darkness of the night.

“We’re going to beat the shit out of a group of terrorists,” Rhamina hissed as the temperature dropped further and her eyes seemed to glow gold against their surroundings.

“That’s it?” Sophie asked, “We’re just charging a group of terrorists?”

“If they’re going to categorize us as dangerous, might as well show them why,” Rhamina replied as the mark on her finger began to glow, “Magic follows a specific law of justice and we’re just following it.”

“We’re getting my kid back dammit!” Aurora added as Rhamina began running off towards one of the edges of the city.

“There are about five of them so we have them beat in numbers,” Rhamina said not turning her head back to look at her group, “This is going to be a rare time I say this but use your magic however you like in order to stop them.”

“Soter, watch over Selene and keep her safe until we reach her,” the ravenette prayed as they continued their way through the night.

Meanwhile, a white snake lagged behind the group of five masked figures, one of which was carrying the unconscious child.

“Such a shame, they’ve even corrupted a child,” one said in a soft tone.

“That’s true; however, at least she will be put to use before her infection gets worse,” a taller one stated leading the group down the empty streets.

“Such a pure soul too,” one said reaching out to touch the girl’s face, “If it weren’t for that disease she would’ve made a great apprentice.”

The male carrying Selene suddenly dropped her as a blade of wind sliced through his thick gloves and through his skin.

Asra slithered in front of the darkette as she began to stir and as the males turned in disgust at the presence of magic.

“You parasite!” hissed the man he cut.

In response the snake hooded up as the man reached out only for needles of black ice to impale themselves in his hand.

“Stop touching my beings!” a certain ravenette screamed tackling the man to the ground with more ice needles floating around her.

The larger male easily knocked her off but she only use the momentum to roll onto her feet and hunch down in an attack stance as she snarled at the men.

“And then there’s this filth,” the man hissed.

“We’re the filth?! You were about to murder a child!” Rhamina seethed as she unsheathed her saber before bringing it down only to be blocked by a gauntlet previously hidden by the long sleeves of the cloak.

Suddenly an arrow lodged itself into the thigh of one while bullets dug into the calves of another.

Before the other two could react Hannah went up and bashed the hilt of her sword into the skull of the shortest one while Chloe snuck up on the remaining figure and stabbed them in the back.

As the figure sunk to their knees the fourteen-year-old wiped the blood off on her shorts.

“We’re saving all of you!” the remaining figure screamed through their mask as they took swipes at the ravenette only for her to dodge.

They kept up the rotation of attack, dodge, attack, dodge, attack; while, Asra was back in his human form tending to the stirring Selene until the figure said, “Your souls will be put to good use.”

“...”

They both stopped and everyone turned to the pair.

“... Excuse me?”

The ravenette’s expression dropped completely as the temperature dropped in an instant.

“...You were planning to mess around with souls?...” she seethed not even trying to stop the flare of her aura from whipping around her, “... Is that what you did to them? To the hundreds of magicians four years ago?...”

“They died and you disrespected them by trying to mess with their souls?!” she screeched looking up with her eyes glowing gold as ice started to coat her hair.

Before the figure could say anything she let out a bitter laugh and the ice started to disappear before she looked up, the gold hue not leaving her irises.

“You deserve a fate far worse than death,” she hissed as her eyes narrowed into a glare.

The girls could only watch in shock at their friends display. They knew she was hurt and not normal but this was not expected.

“Mina,” the white-haired male whispered, not knowing what else to say at this point.

“I’m done,” the female hissed as she raised her hand and gave a simple command, “Restringere.”

Chains then erupted from the ground and tangled themselves around the figure, pinning him in his spot.

“You say magic is the plague of this world, but look at yourself,” she said as the glow left and her aura retreated, “You’re just as bad as me.”

“What are you waiting for?” the figure asked as Rhamina knelt in front of Selene who was now awake and shaking in fear at the notorious sight of the plague masks.

“Hmm?” the ravenette asked not even looking back at the male.

“Aren’t you going to kill us?” the figure asked as they struggled against their bindings.

“I already said that killing you would be too easy, people like you deserve to suffer in the mortal world like the rest of us,” Rhamina said flatly, “The only one of you that might die is the one Chloe stabbed in the fu- freaking lung.”

At the last part of Rhamina’s statement the said female looked away feigning innocence as the bleeding figure groaned on the ground.

“Ms. Mi-Miyu?” Selene asked, “What’s going on? Why is Mr. Asra here? Why are they here?”

“It’s fine, Selene, you don’t have to worry about them right now. I’m making sure they go to prison,” Rhamina said as the confinements got significantly tighter around the figure, “as for Asra, well we can explain that tomorrow okay it’s getting late.”

As Rhamina helped Selene stand up a flash of unsettledness ran through the ravenette and in an instant she spread herself in front of the group of seven girls as a sixth figure became visible with his hand aimed at the shorter blonde.

With Rhamina blocking them, the figure’s bare hand inked with a sigil made contact with the ravenette’s back, revealing previously invisible chains which ran all along her body before they crumbled to the ground her collar soon after turning to dust.

‘A seal?’ Asra thought  his eyes widening as he held Selene by the shoulders.

Rhamina then crumpled to the ground allowing Kerstin a clear shot at the figure straight in the shoulder.

“Mina?” Sophie called as the ravenette’s breathing became labored, “Mina, what did he do?”

“Fucking hypocrites,” the teen gasped as her body began to shake and she began to cough harshly.

Soon blood splattered onto the ground as her coughing got worse and her aura started to form again around her except there were two things different this time which caused Selene and Asra to widen their eyes.

First, her aura was brighter than previously and was glowing brightly.

Second, the number of her tails had changed. Instead of three tails, five tails were now flicking about feverishly as the girl struggled to remain in control.

“Mina/Ramen!” the girls exclaimed trying to get close only to be blocked by one of her tails.

“Asra, what the fuck is happening?” Sam exclaimed looking up to the male.

“I- I don’t know,” the male replied looking down at the female who was desperately trying to bite down her screams, “Her soul. It’s like that of a God-”

“You foolish girl,” a deep male voice cut in as a dark-skinned male stepped forward not phased at all by the violent tails.

His face was painted in white tribal symbols and his bare torso was quite built.

As soon as he placed a hand on the female’s shoulder her aura retreated into her body and she was left gasping for air.

“Thank you, Anansi,” the female sighed as she shakily wiped away blood from her mouth.

“Oh no, don’t think you’re getting off this easy, Kitsamii,” the male scoffed as a portal opened itself under all of the magic users.

In the next instant the group found themselves in what seemed to be an ancient museum of sorts with webs creeping up various Greek-styled columns.

“Mina, what the fuck is happening?” Sophie asked as the others were taking in their surroundings.

“This is the Hall of Gods,” Selene gasped as she walked up to a portrait and description of the Greek God Zeus.

“Yes,” the dark skinned male replied, “I am the God of Stories, Anansi. It is my job to keep records on every God and Goddess in existence.”

“With all due respect, why did you help, Mina?” Asra asked helping the ravenette to stand.

The god turned to the ravenette and asked, “Do you want to explain it to them or should I, Kitsamii?”

The female sighed as she walked over to the end of the long hall where large purple curtains with black lace covered it.

Once she pulled on the cord to open it the group was left in shock as an elegant portrait of the Manifested form of Rhamina stared back at them. It was slightly altered in count of wardrobe but it was for sure the form of the sixteen-year-old in front of them.

The plaque under the painting read:

Kitsamii: The Human Goddess

Patron: Fox

Faith, Benevolence, A Good Deed, Change of Heart, Intelligence

Trickery, Illusion, Greed, Mistrust, Unwanted Change, Swindled, Seduction

After completing her rights and combining the three parts of her soul into one essence she was granted her Godship under the watch of the Faery Queen and the Gods of the Fates; however, upon request she was able to remain partly human in the fact she does not have the memories of her past lives unlike the complete Gods and Goddesses. In order for her Goddess soul not to rip apart her human body, her full powered soul must be repressed under a seal cast on herself through a talisman of promise.

“... Mina, what does it mean ‘partly human’?” Asra asked as the girls were mostly in shock of their friend being a god, “That isn’t possible…”

“It is,” Anansi answered, “You as a magician should understand to earn one must give correct?”

“And what exactly did you give, Mina?” the male asked in concern as the female bit her lip and began to scratch at her wrists.

“Before I answer that I’m going to tell you right now, that this happened right after I went home four years ago, I was not in a stable state of mind like what you saw a few minutes ago… I wanted the power in order to stop feeling helpless but I didn’t want to be a Goddess and give up living my life here because I wanted to be able to see my remaining friends without being… Fuck, I don’t know, isolated by the fact I wasn’t human anymore,” Rhamina explained looking at the group, careful to avoid any eye contact, “the effects of that is one, a human body cannot support the soul of an ethereal being so the seal in my collar suppressed my soul’s magic to that of a human’s and my existence is only known by the Gods of Law and the Faery Queen. None of the other Gods and Goddesses know of the Goddess, Kitsamii.”

The girl then took a breath, “The thing I gave up was the ability to learn from my past lives. I selfishly gave up the memories of my past lives so I could keep all of you with me.”

“Disgusting right?” the girl chuckled as she leaned back onto the wall, her wrists now red from the scratching.

She took the silence of the group as a bad sign and started biting her bottom lip.

‘I’m such a cunt,’ she thought before something attached itself to her waist.

Rhamina looked down to see the tear streaked eyes of Chloe as she called, “Mina, I’m sorry!”

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” the ravenette asked in confusion, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Ramen, you went through that alone,” Aurora said as she also went up to hug the ravenette whose shirt was starting to dampen.

“Not to mention that you were fucking twelve when that happened,” Tijarah added wrapping her arms around the girl’s right side.

“Yeah, and I’m one hundred percent sure you parents didn’t help you at all,” Kerstin scoffed through her own tears as she and Sam attached themselves to the teen who was starting to get quite overwhelmed at the support she was getting rather than the hate she expected to receive.

‘I really don’t deserve this,’ Rhamina thought as she tried to hug back the best she could despite her arms being pinned to her sides, ‘I kept such a big thing from them for years and they still do this.’

Sometime during the hug Hannah, Sophie, and  Selene joined in; however, Rhamina didn’t really know when due to her mind imploding on itself.

A cough from the spider god broke them from their moment and Ansansi said, “I’ll let you stay here for two days before I’m sending you back into the mortal world. You should be able to figure something out by then.”

“Oh yeah, how is your body still intact here?” Hannah asked as Rhamina stood with the two fourteen-year-olds at her waist.

“My soul has more wiggle room here since this is a god’s realm don’t get me wrong she’s still struggling but the surroundings are enough to keep it from breaking me physically,” Rhamina stated before hushing into a whisper, “You guys can go wander for a bit and read up on the gods I need to talk to Asra.”

As the females branched off Rhamina turned to the male to still stood facing the portrait with hazy eyes. His face bore no emotion and made the ravenette’s anxiety skyrocket.

She gently set her hand on his shoulder before whispering, “Are you alright?”

“To think you were able to come up with something like this,” he chuckled quietly as a sad smile came to his lips, “You knew what you were getting into. You work with the fae of course you’d be this crafty to get what you wanted. I knew you would probably earn Godship soon but was it really worth throwing away your past knowledge to stay human?”

“Asra, to be honest my life was just suffering and it still is,” Rhamina answered looking up at the glorified painting of herself, “This didn’t change anything for me, plus I was probably going to hell anyway so might as well see what I can get away with while I can.”

His eyes narrowed at her attempt to change and defuse the subject as he looked down into her eyes.

They had changed drastically since he had seen her four years ago. The underlying sadness he had seen back then had now become more prominent despite the fact just a few hours ago they were lit with happiness and excitement at regaining her friend.

As Rhamina stared into the amethyst colored irises of Asra she knew they hadn’t changed at all. Always expressing his emotions to her like an open book, though it was easily hidden from others. She knew how the smallest changes in a person and looking into their eyes made it even easier for her to see.

“I’m sorry, Asra,” she sighed taking his right hand in both of hers and bowing her head down to lay a soft kiss on his fingers, “I literally broke my promise not to do anything stupid.”

“I’ll make it up somehow but first I need to find another vessel to seal my soul with,” she sighed pulling her arms up in order to stretch.

“What kind of seal did you use?” Asra asked sitting on the floor as the female flopped down next to him.

“It was a seal of promise,” Rhamina stated, “I promise I made with the Faery Queen. She can’t help me this time though. My end of the promise was that would be the only time I would need the seal but yeah… Need to find another way.”

The ravenette let out a yawn as she laid down on the floor.

“I’m sure we should think of something by tomorrow, it’ll be fine,” she chirped before closing her eyes and blocking out the light with her arm.

‘It’s not going to be fine,’ she thought as her mind began to drift off, ‘I am absolutely fucked.’

As the female’s breathing evened out Asra sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Holy shit, all the Gods used to be human?” Sam asked as she came back from reading most of the descriptions on the Gods and Goddesses.

“Yes, they fulfilled their duties as humans and ascended into Godship,” Anansi replied as he walked back into the hall, “The same goes for the Gods of Law. We were the first to discover this phenomenon and took it upon ourselves to make sure no one tries to wiggle themselves out of it… Of course we were somewhat bested by your friend here.”

“How did she do it, might I ask,” Asra voiced while walking over to join the rest of the group.

“... I do not have the authority to answer that, only she can when she regains her memories,” the god answered.

“But-” “Yes, that’s the original deal we made; however, Tyche, has revealed that someone will interfere and she will ascend completely and soon,” the male explained before turning to the Asra, “Now, about your predicament… You have a solution I’m assuming? You are almost as crafty as she is.”

“I believe so but I would need to go back to the shop,” he replied before crossing his legs and sitting up straighter, “There’s an item that can be used as a vessel there.”

The girls listened as he explained that the object had belonged to his mother and Aurora glared as she interjected, “So it was your mom’s engagement ring?”

“I- um, yes,” the male replied as a red hue coated his face, “But I believe it might be the only vessel strong enough to suppress her soul. It has been passed down for generations with the magic of a promise growing each time it was used.”

“That makes sense,” Selene stated, “raw emotion and intent is the most powerful magic afterall.”

“Fine, but just know I’m going to fucking eat you in your sleep, you snake,” hissed Aurora.

“I know, you say that everyday,” the male chuckled as amusement passed through his eyes.

“I knew you were fucking smirking at me!” Aurora seethed as Rhamina snapped her eyes open.

“God, fuck all of you,” she said, “I try to fucking sleep and I’m awoken by Aurora being petty. That’s my job.”

“Ramen, he was smirking at me!” Aurora whined as she clung to the ravenette’s arm.

“Hush, I just remembered. Anansi,” Rhamina called as she turned to the being, “What happened to the souls of the magicians at that Festival?”

“I do not know,” Anansi replied, “the ones who would know would be Hades, Thanatos, Anubis, or Morana. Why do you ask?”

“One of the members of the Antidote said something about ‘their souls being of use’ or something like that… Plus the one who broke my seal had a sigil on his hand to do so, they were using magic, they very thing they claim to despise,” Rhamina explained, “fucking hypocrites.”

“After your issue is resolved just go to one of the Gods of death. I know you all talk a lot,” Anansi sighed before opening a portal, “Familiar Asra, go and retrieve the vessel, the portal will be waiting for you.”

“Wait, what the fuck were you guys talking about while I was trying to sleep?” Rhamina asked as the male nodded and walked through the portal.

As Asra exited the portal he took note that he was already back in the shop and walked up the stairs before going into the card room.

Once there he went over to the north side of the table and lifted the cloth to reveal the border of the table.

He hovered his hand over it and a symbol glowed a soft blue before a single panel disappeared to reveal a small velvet box.

Asra retrieved it before placing everything back to where it was and made his way back to the portal; however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

When he walked back into Anansi’s realm the first thing Asra heard was Tijarah saying, “Never have I ever sucked dick.”

“Fuck off!” Kerstin exclaimed as she, Sam, and Hannah put one of their fingers down, indicating they had lost a life.

“At least I’m good at it,” Sam smirked as Rhamina let out a huff.

“Mother fuckers,” she muttered before saying, “Never have I ever gotten a head injury from a saber.”

“You’re the mother fucker here!” Kerstin exclaimed as again, she, Aurora, and Sophie put down a finger, “Fucking bitch gets cut by her saber and we’re over here losing brain cells because we hit ourselves in the head.”

“You know what, Bitch? Never have I ever transcended humanity!” Kerstin exclaimed on her turn causing Rhamina to put down her last life.

“Fuck you and your targeting,” she sighed before turning to see the white-haired male, “Hey, welcome back.”

“Well, we’re going to leave you two to do your thing now,” Sophie said as the girls stood up and started walking to the other end of the hall.

“Did they tell you anything?” Asra asked taking the ravenette’s hand.

“Aurora tried to until everyone shut her up with various tactics,” Rhamina chuckled looking up into his eyes with a fond smile.

“You really do love them don’t you?” Asra smiled back.

“Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought them to Pyget with me or taken the time to help them learn about their own magic,” Rhamina said before wincing at a distant sounding crash followed by a string of curses, “Yeah I love them to shit. I love you too you know.”

Asra’s face heated up before the female continued, “You were really the only one who would convince my parents and it was one of the best things to ever happen to me. You’re one of my closest friends and my familiar now.”

“I think I might’ve found a vessel strong enough,” Asra said as he pulled out the velvet box.

Upon opening it Rhamina’s eyes centered in on the moonstone in the center of the victorian styled ring. It had small gold accents on the mainly silver bodied ring and a hinge in clasp indicating it was a poison ring.

“Isn’t this the ring your mother was wearing in the picture you showed me?” Rhamina asked as a memory zapped through her head.

“Of course you remember seeing that,” Asra sighed as he slipped it onto her right ring finger.

“... Are you sure it’s okay for me to have this?” Rhamina asked after a few moments of silently staring at the gem.

“Of course,” Asra smiled before planting his lips on her forehead, “I trust you.”

After those words were spoken a white glow came from the ring before white translucent chains began to spread from it and ran up the rest of her body before disappearing from sight.

“Well, I guess that worked,” Rhamina chuckled, “Time to go back, get Selene home, and have a chat with the town council… Or maybe I should have a talk with the Gods of Death before I talk with them, yeah I’ll do that.”

Once the group re-entered the mortal world they found that the townspeople had found the one corpse and five disabled members; one of which had been playing as a tourist while the others were in fact citizens.

“I know that there are questions that need answering but I can’t talk before a council yet,” Rhamina explained to one of the messengers, “There’s something I need to confirm before I do.”

“Do you have your head on straight?! This could mean life or death for this town!” the messenger exploded as something snapped in the ravenette.

It was written all over her face… She was pissed.

Before anyone could attempt to calm her down she screamed, “I think it’s you who doesn’t have their head on straight! I know the lives of people are at stake, more than just this town! I’m making connections that might prevent that group from killing all of us! Those who can’t use magic and those who can! And if you’re implying that I don’t care, who the hell do you think I am?! I fucking watched as over 200 of my friends burned to death or were carted off to- to who knows! Where they were probably tortured before being killed! I just want to get my facts straight so the right course of action is taken, now I’ve had enough of your blatant disrespect! Get out!”

By the end of her rant the ravenette was gasping for air; however, the messenger remained with a glare at the female.

“Why. Are you. Still. Here?!” she shrieked as her magic echoed within her voice causing the building to quake until the man ran out.

“Mina, are you okay?” Chloe asked in a small voice as she followed the ravenette up the stairs.

“I’m never okay,” Rhamina replied before going into the guest bedroom and pulled out a floor length mirror.

“Chloe, can you get my athame?” Rhamina asked as she got a black candle from the kitchen and set it in front of the mirror so that she and it could be seen in its reflection.

As the girl did as requested Aurora asked, “I get that you’re going to ask the Gods of Death what happened to the others but what does that have to do with right now?”

“If the souls were seen by the Gods of Death and they did return to the Circle then nothing,” Rhamina replied as Chloe came back with the silver, double edged dagger, “If they say they haven’t seen the souls then that means my stay in Pyget will be extended by a while.”

“What does it mean if they haven’t seen the souls?” Kerstin asked as Rhamina cleaned her arms with rubbing alcohol.

“You’ve heard of human transmutation right?” Rhamina asked causing the white-haired male to gasp.

“The ultimate taboo of alchemy,” Sam described as the ravenette gripped the athame in her right hand.

“You don’t think they would try it with them,” Hannah commented.

“No,” Rhamina said with a dark look in her eyes before lighting the black candle, “If they did what I think they did then it’s much worse.”

“... Soul Transmutation,” Asra whispered, “Taking multiple souls and manipulating them to form something different… No one’s tried it.”

“That’s alive anyway,” Rhamina added with a dead expression as she dragged the blade across her left forearm causing blood to flow down.

“Tinniant et in januis mortis, hic mortis in me, Thanatis legere, Anubis, et Morana. Invocavi te,” she chanted as she dipped her fingers in the blood to draw a sigil on the mirror.

The group only watched in surprise and concern as she pulled her hand away only for the blood to absorb into the glass before it distorted.

Soon the four faces of the Gods and Goddess revealed themselves in the mirror.

“What is it you want, Miyu?” Morana asked with her arms crossed, “You should know better than to just summon us out of nowhere.”

“What happened to the souls of the magicians at that Festival?” Rhamina asked bluntly causing the eyes of the higher beings to widen before they gazed at each other.

Hades was the first to speak as he said, “None of their souls were sent down to me.”

“Same here,” Morana said.

“None of my followers descended to meet me,” Anubis added.

“Thanatos?” Hades asked looking to the male.

“No, I haven’t seen them either,” the God replied before looking to the young Witch, “Why do you ask?”

“Because now I have found a purpose in life, to eradicate the Antidote” chuckled the ravenette as she took the athame in her left hand before adjusting her hair with her right, “they took their souls.”

“What?” the four beings asked in unison.

“You have my blessing to do as you see fit,” Morana spoke through gritted teeth, “I’ll make sure you have the support from Ioke and Alastor as well.”

“Good luck, Miyu,” Hades said with a sad expression as the four faces disappeared and the candle went out.

It was silent as Asra left the living room.

It was unreal, nothing but static could be heard.

“You guys should start packing, you’re supposed to leave in about a few days right?” Rhamina asked as Asra came out of the master bedroom with a first aid kit.

“Like hell we’re leaving now,” Tijarah scoffed as the male coaxed the girl into sitting down on the couch as he treated the deep cut she gave herself.

“Yeah, you think we’re letting you take down a terrorist group by yourself?” Sam cackled.

“We aren’t splitting up the Chaos Trio now or ever, Mina,” Kerstin stated followed by words of affirmation from the other girls.

“You do realize that bringing down all of their locations could take years right?” Rhamina asked looking at them with scolding eyes, “You’re all still in school and have futures.”

“Futures that include beating up bad guys!” Chloe chirped, “Mina! I’m gonna kill ‘em!”

“Mina, please let us help you,” Asra pleaded as he looked up from his work, “You don’t have to do anything alone anymore.”

The ravenette let out a sigh before she shook her head and said, “Y’all are idiots,” but her eyes betrayed her.

She didn’t have to face problems alone anymore. She didn’t have to keep secrets anymore.

She had found something to protect with all her being and she was going to do it by keeping them as close as possible.

                                 ~~~Fin. Chapter 5~~~

[rogerblackwolf]

The Mt. St. Helens Incident

Containment Site 93

Mt. St. Helens, Washington.

-May 17-18, 1980-

A violent rumble shook the facility, metal supports creaked and moaned as the earthquake shook the room and everyone inside. Concrete cracked and fractured, the sound of pieces breaking off were heard throughout the facility. As quickly as it started it was over, the aftershock was barely a tremble that sent an empty cup shattering to the floor. In one room, the researchers in lab coats got out from under their cover and checked the seismo monitors. One man stood, straightened his lab coat, combed his fingers through his brown hair, and stroked his bushy goatee before speaking to the young man at the monitor.

"How big was that one?"

"It was a 4.3 magnitude sir." He responded looking at the latest recording. 

"Is the epicenter the same as the others?" The man asked.

"Yes Dr. Hamilton, it's Object 317. It's been causing seismic activity for the past two months and getting stronger every time...if it continues, the volcano could erupt." The man said. 

The room was silent for a few moments before Dr. Hamilton spoke again.

"How much time do we have?"

"Based on these readings, anywhere between 36 to 48 hours before it sends a shockwave powerful enough to bury this facility and us along with it." The man said.

Dr. Hamilton stroked his chin in thought, to the facility's data and the roughly three hundred personnel. As Lead Researcher of Level 3 he knew that Object 317, or the Red Crystal they coined it, had been dormant for roughly a thousand years but two months ago it became active. What's worse is no one knows why. Suddenly a phone rang stirring him from his thoughts, a female researcher answered it before turning to Dr. Hamilton.

"It's Overseer Westbrooks. He wants to speak to you." She said, extending the phone to him.

"This is Dr. Hamilton." He said, taking the phone.

"Nicholas, you and your team alright?" The Overseer asked.

"Yeah, we're fine. A little rattled but nothing bad." Nicholas responded.

"Good, good. I just got off the phone with Laura on Level 2, I've given her the same instructions I'm about to give you. I'm enacting Protocol Omega, you all have 24 hours to get all your research together. If you and your team are not at the evac hanger before the deadline, you will be left behind." Overseer Westbrooks explained, his tone adding to the urgency.

"Understood sir. We won't miss it." Nicholas said before hanging up the phone.

"Alright people, Protocol Omega is in effect, we have 24 hours to get all our research. Dr. Park, take your team down to the data room, get all our server data. Dr. Maxwell, take your team to the archives, get as many files, notes, papers, journals, Anything pertaining to our research. Come on, time's a-wastin." Nicholas said as his team went about getting their work.

The halls were filled with researchers in moments, all frantic to get to their stations. The server room was being cleared of its data banks, the archive shelves were being emptied as each journal was filled with critical information on the Occult and Supernatural. The file cabinets were filled with sensitive and classified material so rather than try to fill tons of luggage, the researchers opted to take the entire cabinets. Security personnel were also helping with the evacuation of the researchers and the moving of the artifacts. The purpose of this facility was the secure containment of powerful objects that in the wrong hands would spell disaster for not just the United States, but the very world itself. It took nearly the whole night, plus a few more tremors, but when the rays of morning began to show, the majority of the facility was evacuated, the data had been all removed, and there was only one last object to extract, Object 317.

Secured within a bright lit, fifty by fifty foot room, levitating in a slow rotation was a dark crimson tetragonal crystal. It was twelve feet tall and the energy it gave off was a mix of menacing and grim. Two researchers, along with half a dozen security personnel armed with M16s and Colt Commando carbines, began attaching a harness to drag the floating crystal to the exit. Dr. Hamilton met with the head of security in the observation room overlooking the cell, he was a black man, average in build, dressed in full kit but lacked the helmet and balaclava of the other personnel. Holstered on his hip was a Colt 1911 Commander, along with three extra mags, and slung on his shoulder was a CAR-15 carbine. Dr. Hamilton smirked as he knew that this man took the safety of everyone seriously, sometimes even disregarding protocol to help his fellow man.

"Clay, thought I'd meet you here." Dr. Hamilton said.

"Dr. Hamilton, figured you'd be the last one to evacuate." Mr. Johnson said with a smirk.

"I'm the Head Researcher of Level 3, it's my job to ensure the objects are safely transported." Hamilton said watching the researchers secure the crystal.

"And it's My job to ensure you don't get unnecessarily harmed doing so." Clay replied with a chuckle.

Dr. Hamilton grinned with a light chuckle before a call on Clay's walkie caught his attention.

"Guardian Actual, this is Guardian 2-1, come in Guardian. Over."

"Guardian 2-1, report. Over." Clay responded.

"We've reached the sealed vent in Sector 3-7, we're placing the FAE now. Over." Guardian 2-1 said.

"Copy all, Guardian 2-1, give me a sitrep when able. Over." Clay said.

"Copy. Guardian 2-1 out." The voice said before going silent. 

Clay's sudden watch alarm startled him, he checked the time, 8:00 am. He took a breath before turning the alarm off.

Dr. Hamilton had read about FAE's, or Fuel-air Explosive, in the facility's classified files. When Protocol Omega is enacted, security personnel will place an FAE device in the room of the sealed thermal vent that leads directly into the volcano. The room of the vent's seal was locked behind a magnetic locked door built to withstand a shot from the 120mm cannon of the M1 Abrams tank. The theory, and hope, was that the explosion would cause a controlled vertical eruption, destroying the facility and limiting possible civilian casualties. Suddenly the crystal pulsed with energy, the force made everyone in the cell back up a step before the shaking began.

The cell walls cracked and the floor fractured as a violent tremor rumbled throughout the facility. The lights went out as the fixtures came loose from the ceiling, the glass in the observation room cracked and spiderwebbed from there before it shattered into the cell. Once the shaking stopped the observation room and cell was much darker, many of the lights were off, aside from the ambient emergency lights.

Hamilton and Clay got to their feet with some scrapes but nothing bad, unfortunately one of the researchers was less lucky.

"Man Down! Man Down!" One of the men shouted.

Hamilton and Clay immediately ran down to the cell to see one of the younger scientists impaled by pieces of glass through his back, a pool of blood slowly forming around his body. The group stood in silence for a moment before the room was filled by a new light. The Red Crystal began emitting a low crimson glow, followed by a low pulsing sound, the glow flickered in rhythm with the pulse...like a heartbeat. Dr. Hamilton and the remaining researcher noticed that blood had gotten on it, the next thing they noticed was the pulsing got faster and faster until it cracked. Everyone watched as a dark shape inside the crystal became larger and larger, the cracks got bigger as they began to run the length of the crystal.

Clay commanded everyone to leave just as the dark shape filled the crystal but before they could move, a great roar shattered the crystal, the force sending everyone to the floor. A stillness took over, dust hung in the air for but a moment, before the sound of heavy feet landing and claws clicking on the floor. A pair of wings flapped to clear the room, it was then everyone saw the remnants of crystal shards scattered around the room in a circle and what was standing in the center of it all. It was 9 ft in height standing on canine legs, horns protruded from it's brow curving downward then pointing forward just past it's chin, the body was ripped with muscle and deep scars decorated it's flesh, the face was human in shape but that's where it ended. A pair of massive leathery wings folded behind it's back as it's glowing red eyes focused on the men in the room. 

It's lips curled into a wicked smile, baring long pointed canines and sharpened teeth. Alongside the scars were branded symbols that began to glow with a crimson hue. He said something in a language no one understood before from his hand he summoned a wicked curved blade, red in color and covered in symbols, and with a swing he cleaved the second researcher in two.

"Open Fire!" Clay ordered.

The men started firing at the massive humanoid only for it to start attacking them, in one swing he bisected one man from his right shoulder to his groin, he kicked another through the open door and down the hallway, his kevlar body armor was shredded but not punctured but his ribs were definitely broken. Clay grabbed Dr. Hamilton before shutting the magnetic sealed door, but it was proving to be only an inconvenience for the creature as every blow against the heavy metal door made it creak and give.

"All Guardian Teams, we have a Code Black, I repeat, Code Black! Guardian Actual has sustained casualties, does anyone copy? Over." Clay shouted into his radio.

"Copy all Guardian Actual, Guardian 2 is enroute to meet you at Sector 3-2." One team leader responded.

"This is Guardian 3, on our way to assist." Another replied.

"Guardian 4 has linked up with Guardian 5, enroute." A third responded.

Dr. Hamilton helped seal the second door at the end of the hallway just as the being broke the door off its hinges. The team then ran to meet the other teams as they gathered on the 2nd Level, Dr. Hamilton even disabled the elevators after the other teams confirmed they used the stairs. Clay knew that'd only buy them a few minutes at best so he asked Guardian 2-1, his ID tag reading "Flint", for a sitrep. 

"The FAE is in place and armed, but during the last tremor, the timer was damaged. The only way to set it off is a direct detonation." Flint said.

"So one of us has to go down there and detonate it ourselves?" Clay asked.

"Yeah." Flint responded.

Clay looked down at his watch, 8:20 am, before he took a deep breath.

"I'm going down there, alone if I have to. I won't ask any of you to follow me." Clay said.

"Bullshit." Flint replied.

"What?" Clay asked in surprise.

"I said Bullshit. I'm going with you, me and my team will make that thing wish it crawled back into whatever hole it spawned from." Flint said, his team having similar looks as do the rest. Clay smirked before turning to Dr. Hamilton, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It was good knowing you doc. The last evac should be on it's way, make sure you take care of my team." Clay said.

"Not a problem...it was an honor to work with you, Mr. Wright." He responded, helping the wounded man with one more taking the lead. Guardian 5 decided to act as security, but the ten men each saluted the other teams who would stay, wishing them all luck before following after Dr. Hamilton.

Clay and Flint along with their teams headed for the stairs into Level 3, where everything suddenly became much darker. Along the halls were slashes from claws and a blade, bloody prints and trails went in multiple directions, and when Clay found the aftermath of his slaughtered squad mates he shuddered in fear. Their bodies were aged severely, wrinkled and bony, and their eyes were burned from their sockets, their expressions that of overwhelming terror.

"I smell your Fear...like little children. Children who are afraid of the Dark." a distorted, male voice spoke from the darkness but remained unseen as the squads looked everywhere.

"Move, Move!" Flint ordered, leading the way to the vent. They heard laughter now all around them before the voice spoke again.

"Yes. Run! Run if you like. There is Nowhere to hide!" It chuckled with glee.

They felt it all around them, the running of feet on the concrete floors and the whoosh of wings set everyone on edge since it kept hidden in the shadows. Guardian 4 was first to face its wrath, one second it appears from the darkness the next two men are dead. The team stayed to try and stall the creature as it appeared again, when it was shot at he roared before charging, cutting with his blade, swiping with his claws and goring with his horns. Flint showed the others a shortcut, through a hallway that had two blast doors on either end. 

Clay, Flint, and the rest of Guardian 2 made through but as Guardian 3 and his squad neared the door it suddenly closed. Guardian 3 banged on the door begging them to open the door, but no matter how hard they tried the door wouldn't budge. Suddenly the door on the other end closed, metal groaned as darkness filled that end along with low guttural breathing. The darkness was then illuminated by the being as his brands lit with crimson, his eyes glowing bright, and his blade ablaze with ungodly fire. The squad immediately fired at the being as he walked forward a swing of his blade felling one man after the next.

"HELP US!" Guardian 3 shouted desperately on his end of the door. The creature came closer as he slayed man after man, he used some telekinetic ability to pin one man to the ceiling, his tail stabbing through the man's vest and torso with no effort. He slowly came to Guardian 3 and silenced him by piercing his blade through him and the door. Everyone sprinted through the next corridor as the door was thrown off it's frame, locking the other doors as they went. Finally they came to the corridor where the bomb was set, thankfully it hadn't been tampered with.

Flint began setting the trigger, as his team covered the hallway, when Clay got a call on his radio;

"Guardian Actual this is Evac Team Jericho, we have your men aboard. What's your ETA? Over."

"Say again you have my men aboard including Guardian 5 and Dr. Hamilton? Over." Clay responded.

"Copy, we are waiting for you sir. Over." The pilot replied.

"Negative, do not wait for me. I am ordering you to leave now. Over." Clay said with a heavy heart. There was a silence on the end for a moment before the pilot responded.

"Wilco, good luck sir. Out."

Clay and Flint were interrupted by the sound of gunfire and death cries in the hallway nearby. Flint grabbed his carbine in one hand and gave the trigger to Clay.

"I'll buy you some time." He said heading to support his men. Clay went into the chamber and set the second charge, synched it to a deadman trigger, and armed it with a firm squeeze.

It was only then he noticed the gunfire had stopped and the only sound he heard was the door creaking open. Clay didn't hesitate spinning around, shouldering his carbine, and dumping a mag into the creature's torso. The tail stabbed at the barrel, knocking the gun from his grasp, immediately Clay pulled his 1911 firing all seven rounds at the beast, one even grazed its brow. The creature cocked its head and gave him a mocking smirk that made Clay's blood boil. He discarded his sidearm and from his left front shoulder unsheathed a combat knife, keeping a firm grip on the trigger as he took a fighting stance.

The beast responded by summoning a dagger of its own, an unsettled grin revealed its blood soaked teeth as it spoke.

"You are a warrior." 

"And I'll die one too." Clay said defiantly.

"You have earned the right to know my name, mortal. I am Arkal, General of the 17th Legion, Servant of the great Glasya-labolas and I will enjoy devouring your soul." The creature said before Clay charged him.

The creature dodged his attacks and in one thrust impaled Clay on his dagger. He lifted Clay to his eye level as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"Any last words?" He asked with a wide grin.

Clay looked at his watch even with the blood on it he could see the 8:32 am, to which he returned the beast's smile with his own.

"When you see that goat faced bastard Satan...Tell him Clayton Wright sent you." He managed before releasing the trigger.

The explosion was so violent and forceful that on the outside the entire northern face of Mt. St. Helens collapsed in a massive landslide, releasing a large mix of lava and heated rock. The ash cloud towered until it reached into the atmosphere, thankfully the evac helicopter was far enough away to barely feel the force of the explosion. Back at the ruins of the facility there was only one survivor. Arkal stood unharmed in the ruins surrounded by lava and walked on heated stone. He heard a sound like thunder on the wind, looking skyward he spotted what looked like a falling star heading straight for him.

The star stopped above him, the light at first made him squint before it died down to reveal a figure draped in golden light. The male figure unfurled his large white feathered wings, revealing the grandest of gold and silver plate armor covered in holy symbols and engravings, he was not armed but he looked like he was familiar with the art of combat. The demon growled before he summoned his blades and pointed one at the angelic being.

"Camael! Face me and meet your death!" He roared.

The angel chuckled under his helm, his eyes glowing through the eye slits.

"You forget Arkal, I am no mere angel. I am the Archangel of Courage, you are not my executioner. I am Yours!" Camael's voice boomed, he turned his right palm skyward, a beam of light pierced the ash cloud and to his hand came an elegant and beautiful longsword bathed in glowing white flames.

The demon flew skyward to meet him only for the Archangel to teleport behind him, in one stroke sliced Arkal's wings from his back. The demon general fell towards the earth, but Camael displayed his superior speed by teleporting and slashing the demon. When Arkal landed he landed with only one arm, his legs and other arm were severed, his tail was cut at the tip and even one of his horns was cut clean from his head. Camael landed softly on the ground, his boot falls filled the demon with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. The same emotion his enemies felt when he dealt their killing blows, fear.

Camael stood over Arkal and without hesitation plunged his blade into the demon's chest. Arkal let out a primal roar as his body burned to ashes, the flesh burned revealing charred bones that turned to dust to be blown away on the wind. Camael, seeing his work was done, took back to the skies to return to his Realm. Knowing that this disaster, while a tragedy, would not claim more lives to fuel Arkal's brethren, or his master.

[webcricket]

Recipe for Disaster

Characters: Crazy!CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1261

A/N: Season 7 Crazy!Castiel adorably spoils dinner. Please accept this attempt at humor as a gesture of solidarity.

The lid on the boiling pot of water clattered noisily against the roiling pressure of steam rising past the rim. The delicious scents of citrus and rosemary wafted from the warmth of the oven, drifting out into the rest of the cabin and overpowering the smell of fresh paint used to mark the walls with various demonic and angelic warding symbols.

You busied yourself setting the rustic table with actual matching dishes and utensils for once instead of the haphazard grab-whatever-is-in-the-drawer-and-convenient-to-shovel-food-into-your-mouth model of food ingestion the boys were accustomed to practicing. You hopefully set out wine glasses, not actually expecting either brother to touch them, but willing to be surprised by the possibility. Arranging the spray of wildflowers Castiel popped off to gather a few moments ago in some faraway verdant meadow after you wished aloud for a spot of bright color to dress the otherwise drab table, you glanced up and smiled at the angel squatting in front of the oven and squinting intently through the tiny window on the front. He’d been through so much recently – death, resurrection, amnesia, and taking on Sam’s burden of torture courtesy of Lucifer – it was no wonder to you that his wits buckled under the pressure. He was still Cas though – adorable and sweet, but with a handful of interesting new hobbies, a curious obsession with insects, and an annoying aversion to conflict making him utterly useless to the Winchesters. The red Kiss the Cook apron donned over his white scrubs and trench coat had been his idea, and you took chaste advantage of the offer several times while instructing him in the preparation of dinner.

Sam and Dean blustered through the cabin door, slamming it shut, frame shaking as they entered.

Cas rose and frowned at the ruckus.

Sam inhaled deeply, eyes closing in sensory ecstasy as he breathed in the warm smell of the roasting chicken. Exhaling, he hummed approval, “Something smells amazing!”

Dean bounded across the cabin in three strides, slipped past Cas, and plucked the cover off the boiling pot to examine the contents much to the angel’s dismay. The elder Winchester snickered at the red apron, spinning and holding the lid above his head as Cas tried repeatedly to grab it. He flashed you a playful grin when you turned to witness the chaos, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

“Spatchcock chicken,” you answered, unamused, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Say what now?” Dean asked, brow furrowed askance. He relinquished the lid.

“Spatchcock chicken,” Cas repeated, nodding politely in thanks as he accepted the cover and returned it to the pot.

“Yeesh, that sounds painful,” Sam winced and tensed his shoulders.

“I think a wendigo tried to do that to me once,” Dean snatched a raw green bean from the counter, bit it in half, grimaced, and chucked the offending vegetable across the cabin to hit his brother in the chest.

Sam wagged his chin in condemnation of the act.

You put your hands on your hips, inquiring disbelievingly, “A wendigo tried to butterfly, lay you flat, and roast you in an oven?”

“Whatever, Julia Childs,” Dean snorted, redirecting his attention to retrieving a cold beer from the fridge.

Sam stepped nearer, chuckling to himself as he pointed at the angel, “Guess that makes Cas Jacques Pepin, huh?”

Dean cracked the top off the hissing beer. Cas fretted over the boiling pot with a slotted spoon. Both of them turned in unison to ask, “Who?”

Sam raised an eyebrow as if he could not fathom their complete lack of knowledge on the matter, “Her cooking partner-nevermind.” His gaze moved expectantly to you for backup.

“How do you even know who that is, Sam?” you pondered. “I didn’t know you had any culinary interests.”

“He’s into just about anything that involves a lot of sweat,” Dean pointed the bottle of beer in his direction for emphasis before drinking a swig.

Sam shrugged and pressed his lips thin, “PBS. Babysitter to lonely children across the states stuck in motels with no cable whose father and brother left them behind to go on a hunting trip.”

Dean sheepishly shrank from his brother’s accusatory glare and struck Cas lightly on the arm with the back of his hand to redirect attention, “You learning anything useful Cas?”

“Yes, cooking is exceptionally violent,” the angel answered, bending to slide the roasting pan, bare-handed, from the oven. He inclined his countenance at the beautifully browned bird, “This chicken was beheaded, exsanguinated, plucked, brined, flayed, and trussed before being placed into a blazing inferno to burn it for good measure to an internal temperature of...of…”

You approached from behind, a gentle hand touching his shoulder, offering Cas the meat thermometer, “170 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“170?” he asked in confirmation.

You bobbed your head.

“You mean the wooden holster for knives on the counter didn’t tip you off?” Dean smirked.

“It’s called a knife block,” Sam pointed out.

Dean scowled, “I don’t care what you want to call it Rachael Ray, it’s a holster.”

Ignoring the brothers’ bickering, Cas wandered down his own meandering trail of thought, “I understand why some humans choose not to participate in the consumption of meat.”

“Sammy,” Dean coughed into his sleeve.

Sam glowered, “Dean, you’ve seen me eat meat.”

“Yeah, maybe under duress, like, when they’re out of that green junk you always order,” Dean retorted.

“It’s called salad,” Sam scoffed.

Reaching around the blockade of men now occupying the small workspace in front of the stove to turn off the oven, you chided Dean, “Did you just refer to salad as junk food?”

Cas continued to muse, blue gaze glossed philosophically, blissfully uninterrupted by what was going on around him, “The same viciousness applies to the entire food chain really.” He picked up a forsaken green bean from the cutting board, twisting it glumly between his fingertips, “These green beans, for example; the promise of perpetuation of life for the plant contained within these pods were crudely severed by someone’s unsympathetic bare hands. The recipe called for them to be brutally blanched in a pot of boiling water until fork tender, robbing them of their enormous potential for propagation. And what’s worse, now they will be slathered in butter which, contrary to antiquated belief, is not at all an appropriate treatment for burns. It’s really a wonder humanity has survived this long with such a propensity toward violence in every aspect of their existence.”

“Yeah,” Sam met your eyes and parodied the angel’s seriousness, “hunger can drive people to do some pretty horrible things.” He nodded in a mockery of despair at his brother, “Dean in particular. You wouldn’t believe how many pies I’ve seen him carve to pieces.”

Cas visibly trembled.

You bit your lower lip endeavoring not to burst into laughter.

Dean tried and failed to look repentant.

Sam went on, expounding the gruesome details, “This one time he disemboweled an entire strawberry rhubarb single-handedly…”

The angel’s square jaw dropped in horror.

Sam feigned a sniffle at the memory, “…with a spork…in front of a group of school kids. And the stupid grin on his face afterward…I’m sure they still have nightmares.”

Cas carefully considered Sam’s tale, his blue eyes glinting meditatively as he spoke, “I have noticed Dean does seem to relish tormenting those things and people he professes to love most. I had never considered hunger to be a motivating factor.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” you grinned.

Dean curled his lip, shooting the chicken a suspicious glare, “Uh, anyone else think we should just order pizza?”

[artificialqueens]

God is love, but Satan does that thing you like with her tongue... (Shalaska)

This is going to be a part of a super long shalaska religious school AU that I’ve only just started writing. I just couldn’t resist posting this part before the others. x

Alaska can taste Sharon’s skin between her teeth. She can taste the blood and the sin and the unholy words. She has been falling to her knees in prayer for a lifetime and only now can she taste heaven.

Sharon drags her fingers through Alaska’s long, blonde hair, her nails catching on the chain of her crucifix. Sharon pulls at the cool metal and Alaska can feel herself jerk forward, the sacred symbol feeling as if it had burned her chest.

“Take it off.”

“What?”

“Sharon, take it off.”

Sharon wraps her fingers around the chain and pulls hard. The chain links of metal scatter all around their feet. Alaska watches as the cross charm slides across the dorm room floor, falling into the heating grate near the bed. She whips her head back around and connects her lips with Sharon’s, willing herself to forget her own sin.

Sharon’s hands roam again, one pressing against Alaska’s waist and the other cupping her cheek. Her fingers trace intricate patterns over the fabric of Alaska’s uniform blouse and Alaska shivers, pressing their lips together harder as she settles herself in Sharon’s lap, in between her long, long legs.

“Alaska…” Sharon breathes out shakily, fingers playing with the hem of Alaska’s shirt.

“Touch me, Sharon. Please.” Alaska moans, fumbling with the buttons that run down Sharon’s torso. She pops the first one open, freeing Sharon’s throat, to which she immediately connects her lips. Alaska can feel Sharon’s crimson lipstick on her body. She can feel Sharon’s breath on her neck and her hands skillfully undoing her shirt. She can feel Sharon’s fingertips on her stomach as she undoes the last button, on her shoulders as she pulls the shirt away, on her breasts as she ghosts her hands down Alaska’s pale sides.

“S-Sharon,” Alaska gasps, grabbing Sharon’s hands and placing them on her chest. She feels Sharon hesitate before tracing her fingertips along the edges of Alaska’s cream colored bra.

“Can I?” Alaska breathes.

“Fuck, yes.”

Alaska’s hands fumble over the buttons of Sharon’s uniform. Her touch is too hard while trying to be soft. Her hands shake, but Sharon lets her continue.

Alaska undoes the last button, moaning as Sharon’s fingers toy with her rose colored nipple. She finds herself wishing that it was her tongue.

“You’re so beautiful, Alaska. So perfect. Does He worship you the way I do?”

“N-No. Never.”

“Good. You’re my girl, Alaska. And I’m all yours. We weren’t made for anyone, but we chose each other.” Alaska can barely make out the words as she feels her wrist being pulled towards the insides of Sharon’s legs.

“Look at me, babygirl. All dressed up for you.”

Alaska snaps her eyes open, not even realizing that she had had them closed. Her mouth falls open at the sight of Sharon. Her shirt ripped off to expose a lacy black bra, her skirt ridden down just enough for Alaska to catch a glimpse of her matching panties, long black straps winding around her thighs. Her mouth runs dry.

“Do you like it, Alaska? Do I look pretty for you?”

Alaska nods, eyes wide. She notices Sharon’s hands on her wrists, placing Alaska’s hands on the pale plains of her stomach. Slowly, she inches their hands downward, together.

Alaska snaps her hands away and Sharon’s mouth falls open, ready to apologize, ready to redress her girl and wait until a time where she’s ready for something like this.

Alaska notices her panic and quickly pulls down on the edges of her skirt. She tugs off her own before ripping at Sharon’s, settling herself on the floor between Sharon’s legs.

“Oh, Alaska. You’re too good for me.”

Alaska lets her gaze slide down to Sharon’s center. She’d be laughing at the fact that Sharon fucking Needles has “Hell’s Gates” tattooed just above the line of her panties. She’d be laughing if she couldn’t see just how Sharon was dripping.

“Look what you do to me, Alaska. No one else but you.”

Sharon brings her hands down to Alaska’s hair yet again, playing softly with the strands while Alaska stares up at her, wide-eyed. Like she’s something holy.

“Only if you want to, babygirl. I can wait.”

Alaska shakes her head and slips her fingers between the fabric and Sharon’s soft skin. In one quick motion, she tugs off Sharon’s panties and her eyes land on Sharon’s center, dripping and glistening. Alaska licks her lips and lowers her head.

With the first touch of Alaska’s tongue against her center, Sharon is writhing. Her hands curl in Alaska’s hair, tugging hard, but not hard enough to hurt. Alaska moans against Sharon’s core.

“Do you like it when I pull your hair, babygirl? I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”

Alaska curls her tongue inside of Sharon, flicking the tip upwards to catch on Sharon’s upper wall. Sharon throws her head back, moaning loud and long.

Alaska feels her chest swell with pride. She wants to make Sharon feel this good forever. She wants to hear those loud moans until she goes deaf. And then she wants to feel them.

With a new-found confidence, Alaska wets two fingers between her lips and eases them into Sharon. Her tongue finds Sharon’s clit while her eyes find Sharon’s own.

“Fuck!” Sharon shouts as Alaska curls her fingers clumsily, managing to hit her g-spot in the process. “Right there, Alaska. I can’t wait to make you feel like this. I’m going to write my own holy book with my tongue between your thighs.”

“Sharon, please.” Alaska hums. And all at once, Alaska is on the floor, Sharon grinning down at her.

“Is this okay, Alaska? Can I take these off?” Sharon’s hands toy with the fabric of her simple, white panties.

“Yes,” Alaska gasps.

With a soft brush against her center, Sharon reaches for her sides as Alaska arches her back. Her panties slide down easily and Sharon smiles.

Alaska’s thighs are, somehow, even paler than the rest of her body. Milky and white, bearing a few beautiful lightening shaped stretch marks that came with growing pains. Sharon looks up from between her thighs and when her eyes meet Alaska, all she can see is her babygirl staring down at her, panting and wanting.

With a smirk, Sharon kisses her way down the insides of Alaska’s legs, from her knees to the junction of her hips. She can hear Alaska’s heavy breathing above her and it only pushes her forward, placing her tongue over Alaska’s clit and sucking gently.

“F-fuck!”

“Oh, babygirl. I’ve never heard you say something so naughty.”

“Sharon, please.”

Alaska can feel the smile on Sharon’s lips as her mouth finds her clit again, her tongue peeking out to lap at Alaska’s folds.

She starts out so slow that it aches. Her tongue only lightly brushing against Alaska’s clit. Her lips circle around Alaska and she sucks, sliding her tongue back and forth across Alaska’s clit. With one hand, she parts her folds and delves her tongue between.

Looking up through her dark eyelashes, Sharon sees Alaska writhing. Her hands flailing, not quite knowing where to go. “Baby, here. Take my hand.” Alaska convulses, her hand flying out blindly for Sharon’s. When Alaska wraps her fingers around Sharon’s, she holds on like a vice grip. Her body shakes as she moans.

“Shhh, babygirl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?” Alaska nods violently, throwing her head back against the floor, her back arching so perfectly.

“More, Sharon. I need more.”

“What do you need, babygirl? Do you want my fingers? I’ll give you anything.”

“P-Please, Sharon. Fingers.”

Sharon reaches the hand that is not connected to Alaska between Alaska’s legs, her gaze flickering between her baby’s face and her core.

“Sh-Sharon! I need it!”

“I’ve got you, babygirl. I’ve got you. Try to stay quiet.”

With that, Sharon’s fingers part Alaska’s folds and she traces around her clit before trailing them down to her opening.

“Alaska, are you sure? Baby, I can hold you if that’s all you want.”

“Shut up, Sharon!! Please! I need you.”

“You’ve got me, babygirl. Always.” Sharon gently, so, so gently drives her fingers into Alaska, curling upwards in search of that spot inside that she knows will make her see white.

“SHARON!!” Alaska cries, her back arching and her head lolling to the side. She collapses against the wooden floor, pulling Sharon up to cuddle.

Sharon lays down behind her, wrapping her arms around Alaska’s waist, never letting go of her hand. It’s Alaska who turns quickly to face her, her eyes shining, smiling lazily.

“Well, how is the prettiest girl in the world doing?”

“I don’t know, baby. How are you?” Alaska blushes a light pink and snuggles into Sharon’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“For what, baby?”

“For taking care of me. I feel so protected with you.”

“Of course, Alaska. I adore you.” Alaska stares as Sharon smiles, Sharon’s lips red and slick. She leans over to kiss her, then places her head over Sharon’s heart.

“Let’s get you to bed, babygirl,” Sharon speaks softly, seeing Alaska’s eyes start to droop.

“But what about you?”

“Not tonight, babygirl. I can already see you getting sleepy. Nap time for you. You can make me cum soon.” Sharon rises to her feet, scooping Alaska up in her arms and laying her under the covers.

“Sharon?” Alaska asks, sleep lacing her voice.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think I love you.”

“I love you too, babygirl. I think I worship you.”

Sharon has never seen Alaska smile so beautifully. Smile like she’s something holy. With a kiss to her forehead, Sharon stands to leave the room. As she turns out the light, she feels Alaska’s eyes on her and she feels alive.

When she’s gone, the heavy door closed with a soft click, Alaska catches a glimpse of the cross above her bed. For once, she doesn’t feel guilty.