#AGGRESSIVELY HANDSOME NO WONDER THE WORLD FEARS HIS POWER

[spunkpunx]

I Don’t Share - Kai Anderson

Plot: Reader is the only person who Kai Anderson ever really listened to.

Word count: 1899

Warnings: SMUT, Manipulative reader, Smoking, Blood, Aggressive Sex, Mocking, It’s AHS Cult so it’s gonna be dark, Misogyny

I walked down the steps, into the basement. The place he dwelled. The dark web was a strange place, full of internet trolls, but something about Kai Anderson was different. Something in his words garnered attention, and now, it was time to find out.

“Hello?” I called out confidently. At this point in my life, nothing scared me, not even death, but my survival was important. After all, what could I achieve from beyond the grave? To be without fear is to be dangerous.

“Who are you?” a voice called out from the sofa. The man sat there was not the man I expected to see, and I was pleasantly surprised.

“Kai Anderson?” I queried, and he nodded. I had expected someone much less attractive, but Kai’s dark eyes, handsome face and fit body were all things that played into my hands. His eyes bore into me as I walked into the room and sat opposite him. he wore sweatpants, and his shoulder length hair was dyed blue.

“Answer my question, bitch,” he snapped at me, but I just looked at him disapprovingly, taking a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it. He glared at my lack of response, but I made sure to take my time before I replied.

“When a dog bites it’s master, they take it into the yard and put a bullet in its head,” I calmly spoke, resisting a smile at the taken aback expression on his face. The surprise soon turned into rage, and he stood up and grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt, making me jump.

“I don’t even know you! No bitch will be the master of me!” Kai yelled, and I met his eyes with a level gaze. I gave him a look, a look of indifference, and he released me from his grasp. He stood above me.

“Sit down Kai, I’m not speaking to you until you sit.”

“Fuck off.”

I met his eye with a steely glare, and reluctantly, he took a seat the other side of the coffee table.

“Now, I’m (y/n) (l/n), and I came to see you because I need you,” I began to explain. Kai raised an eyebrow. “There’s something about you Kai, that shocks people, that commands attention, but you’re wasting it away sat sweating in this shitty basement.”

He leant foreword in his seat, starting to listen more attentively. It was almost too easy.

“Now I have a proposal, because I need you to realise your potential,” I continued, and he was captivated.

•

The cult had been running for just over a month. Of course, no one had identified it as what it was yet, but it was coming together as intended. When I first met Kai, I wanted to rile him up and let him lose to wreak havoc on the world, to scare people into action, but after speaking to him, I realised an intelligence more than I had initially thought. It was a waste not to push him forward into something on a national level. Of course, he had been harder to break than I first thought, but eventually I had had him wrapped around my finger using the only weapon women had against men, the weapon that sat between my legs.

Within the ring I took the position of Kai’s right hand and lover, his assistant, and it was widely assumed that I was abused and too love struck by our “Divine Ruler” to realise. As much as they admired him, they feared him. In reality, I was in control. Everything Kai had become was because of me.

I knew I had control at the first “pinky ritual”. As soon as our fingers made contact he dived into the first questions, but by that point I’d already won. He was angry, emotional, irrational. I’d got under his skin. It didn’t take long for me to turn the questioning round onto him, and soon he was spilling his guts to me. Everything about his parents, his brother and sister, every fear, hate, love and regret in his life he gave to me. We had sex and with that he’d given me all of his power.

Despite the impression that the rest of the cult held, Kai was ready to lick the shit off of my shoe if I asked. Of course, that didn’t mean I had absolute control. His ideas were his own, I just gave him a push in the right direction. After the killing of Bob Thompson and his gimp, I had pulled Kai’s mask off and kissed him, hard, to show my appreciation. He pulled our bodies closer together and when he brushed his finger across my lip I could taste the blood on it. From that point on, there was no better sight for me than a bloodied Kai Anderson.

•

“I don’t share Kai,” I stated, coldly, as he walked down into the basement. I had been sat on the sofa, waiting for him to return.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I spat. “You’ve been upstairs fucking Mrs. Lavender,” I pointed out, referring to Meadow.

“There’s a reason,” he defended himself simply. “She needed to think I loved her so she’ll be willing to die for me. It’s exactly what you asked.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I replied slowly, opening my legs to reveal no underwear on beneath my skirt, and I noticed Kai’s next words catch in his throat. “You belong to me. To this.” I gestured my womanhood. He knelt in front of me on the floor, tracing his hands along my thighs, temptation in his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” Kai spat. I snapped my thighs shut and he pulled his hands away sharply. “I am the Divine Ruler,” he announced, standing to lean over me, taking my throat in his hand and squeezing slightly. I looked him back in his dark eyes coolly, daring him to do what he was threatening to do. Kai didn’t have the strength in him to kill me.

“I made you what you are.” I felt his grip tighten. “You’re nothing without me,” I croaked, my voice hoarse as he cut off my breath. His grip tightened more, and for a moment I almost considered he might go through with it. I saw a tear run down his face and then he let go. He dropped his head, tears running down his face, and I opened my arms to him. He dropped down to the sofa, next to me, falling into my embrace. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, while I stroked his hair, shushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whimpered. I pushed him down of the sofa, back on his knees in front of me, opening my legs. He sighed in appreciation, his eyes darkening with lust. As he reached his hand towards my leg I smacked it away.

“No, you have to beg,” I instructed. He looked up to meet my eye. There’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man, he had once said, but here he was, willing to get down on his knees in front of me and beg for my attention.

“Please, forgive me, (y/n). Let me touch you,” he pleaded pathetically. I leant forward and took his jaw in my hand, guiding his lips up to meet my own. He desperately leaned into the kiss, sitting up on his knees to pull us closer. His hand ran along my thigh and brushed across my heat, and when I didn’t pull away he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against my clit before pushing a finger inside of me. I let myself moan against his kiss. He added another finger and curled them inside of me, swallowing my noises up with his lips. I pulled away from the kiss, panting.

“I want you to show me how much you hate me Kai,” I told him, and he removed his fingers from me, confused. I continued, pulling my shirt over my head leaving me in my bra. “Oh, I know you do. The way I make you feel confused, the way I treat you. I let you know how much of a piece of shit you are and you let me tell you that. What kind of man are you? You hate the way I make your prick harder than anyone else could,” I tease, reaching to grab his erect cock through his trousers. I pull my knees back, showing my full pussy out in front of him and that’s all he takes to snap. He stands up and pushes me down on the couch, kneeling himself between my knees before pulling his shirt over his head. It’s hard not to admire his muscular body. It’s no wonder he could get people to believe he was their god, he looked exactly like one. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, freeing his cock from his boxers and stroking it while looking at me.

“You’re right,” he told me harshly, grabbing my jaw and resting his thumb in my mouth so I kept it open. “I do fucking hate you.” With that he leant forward towards me and spat directly into my mouth. His harsh words were making me drip with lust. Without any warning he plunged his cock into my warmth, grunting and dropping his hands to my grip onto my waist and the flesh of my stomach. He pounded into me relentlessly, letting out small moans of pleasure. I panted, and when he hit a spot inside of me I let out a breathy moan. I felt a sting across my face, realising that he’d slapped me. He moved a hand to my thigh, pressing it back toward my chest. He growled as he hit my cervix, his hands heavy and his grip tight. Kai grabbed my throat and leant over my body to give the most bruising kiss, and as he pushed my legs back, his cock hit even deeper in me. I even whimpered as he mercilessly pounded into me, harder and harder. His kiss travelled, down my neck, and I felt him take the skin between his teeth, leaving bite marks. I took his head in my hands, fingers tangled in his hair, and I connected our mouths once more, tongues and teeth colliding. He let out another desperate moan. Even when he hated me I still controlled him. The room was filled with the sound of wet kisses and skin slapping. I felt the pleasure build and reached down to rub myself, reaching a shuddering climax and clenching around Kai. He let out a groan and swore, pounding into me faster, his thrusts sloppy. He pulled my bra down and grabbed onto my tits, desperately panting and he brought himself closer to finish. I could do nothing but moan and tremble as his thrusting overstimulated me. His breathy moans brought me to finish a second time, a wave of pleasure hitting me and making me shake again. Kai groaned, pushing himself balls deep inside me and spilling hot cum. He collapsed down on top of me and I let him rest his head on my chest, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

“I do think I could love you, Kai,” I murmured against his hair, and I had no reason to say it, but I truly meant it.

[narrators-journal]

Don’t leave me

Somehow, you'd gotten yourself into a mess of a relationship, and now you weren't sure exactly what to do. It had started out so sweetly, Chuuya had been a fun, charming, and very handsome man, and he'd taken a swift interest in you after (f/n) had introduced you to him. The whole thing had you on cloud nine. Chuuya would shower you with gifts after lengthy work trips, would take you on fancy dates now and then, and, while prickly, somewhat protective, and aggressive, he was also abundantly affectionate and was surprisingly vulnerable and sensitive at times. In total, he was a wonderful guy, and things were great for the time, but the 'honeymoon phase' ended abruptly. The day had started out normally, you'd woken up to an empty bed, Chuuya once again gone, likely for a while, so you simply took advantage of his absence and picked up clothes and did regular chores. After all, ever since Chuuya had began to stay over more and more, your home was quicker to get cluttered and messy. But, you didn't mind too much since the bit of extra mess was well balanced out by your boyfriends charms, affections, and the fun the two of you had when he was around. So you just hummed a tune while plucking his clothing off of the bedroom floor and put them in your laundry basket. However, you stopped when a spot on his shirt caught your eye. Upon closer inspection, your first thought was sadly confirmed. Blood. You'd been with the man long enough to have learned to identify a wine stain on his clothes, but this wasn't quite the same. This stain was lighter around the edges in some parts, and there was splatter that, thanks to a slew of crime shows you'd seen, were high velocity rather than the light-weight missing his mouth with his wine glass. Where the hell did he get blood to spill like this though?? Did he hurt himself at work? You thought, a wave of anxiety turning your thoughts to scrambled gibberish for a moment, only calmed when you took a few deep breaths and tried to think straight, Hold on, hold on...He doesn't work on a job that would put him at risk of losing this much blood, so...what if this isn't HIS blood? You thought, and it honestly sort of plagued you for the remainder of the morning. What if he did get hurt though? He couldn't have killed someone, right?! The thought continued to run laps around your mind while you anxiously waited to see if your boyfriend returned home, which he thankfully did somewhat swiftly.          "Hey babe, I'm home!" Chuuya called as he walked in with an armful of groceries and a line of bags behind him on a string floating due to his power. However, when he saw the distressed look on your face, he paused and tilted his head a bit, "What's wrong?" Suddenly, you were in hysterics as you word-vomited about the stain and your concerns. Afterwards, Chuuya just sighed, walking over and wrapping his strong arms around your slightly shakey body, "Calm down, take a deep breath." He soothed, petting your (h/l), (h/c) hair until you were less frantic. After that, he sat you down, taking the shirt you were grasping as if your life depended on it and looking over the stain. He was quiet for a moment, and for an instance you saw a flash of panic in his sapphire eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it had been there,           "Babe, you've wound yourself up about a wine stain," he snorted, giving you a playful, attractive smile, but right now it did little to sooth your anxiety,          "C-chuuya, I've seen enough tv to recognize blood splatter, i-it's not even the same color as a wine stain??" you pointed out while getting back to your feet, but he shook his head and pushed you back into the chair,           "(y/n), I promise you, it's only wine, you're making a big deal about this when there is nothing to freak out about," he assured,           "Than why'd you look scared for a moment? If it's just a wine stain, why did you get scared?" you asked, and that seemed to finally break his mask of calm. His face twisted into a mask of annoyance and he growled a bit,           "Just drop it, (y/n)." His voice had lost its calming edge and become stern and left no room for argument, but you shook your head and pushed him away to stand up,           "No, tell me what the hell that stain is. Did you get hurt? Did...did you hurt someone?!" you questioned, but Chuuya'd shut down, just huffing and turning to go back to the groceries he'd bought and put them away. For a while, you were stuck in a tense silence while Chuuya cooked. He was usually pretty honest, and quick to apologize when he got like this, but an hour passed and your moods only soured. He tried to give you food, but you spitefully refused, and any other attempts to get an explanation for the random stain on his shirt were ignored at best. By the time bedtime rolled around, the atmosphere in your apartment was suffocating, so you finally spoke to your boyfriend,            "I'm going to go stay with (f/n) for the night." You told him bluntly, having learned that if you were to hang out with your friends without planning a month in advance, you'd have to just put your foot down and walk out. However, this time, Chuuya reacted a lot more hostile.            "Why? There is no reason for you to go over to their house." he said, glaring at you coldly while he stood in front of the door,            "Because, you're being an asshole and I don't want to be around you right now." You told him, being honest along with snappy, making the redhead throw his hands up in exasperated annoyance,               "Really?! All because of a fucking shirt?" he snapped, about snarling at you. Honestly, it kind of frightened you when he got this way, but you had let him shut down the conversation about the shirt, not this.             "If it's just a shirt, than explain that stain to me so I can stop fucking worrying! Because, right now I fear you've been attacked, or have killed someone!" You demanded, trying to push past him angrily, Suddenly, Chuuya grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the door,              "Fuck that, you're not going anywhere!" The force of his words and the strength of his grip sending ice into your veins, making you look at him with wide (e/c) eyes,              "Chuuya, let me go! Y-you're being scary!" You said, trying to pull your wrist from his grip to no avail,              "No! Stay here, i-it's far too late for you to go anywhere anyway," he pointed out, trying to reason through his ill temper, but by now you were too scared of him to want to stay, even if he had a point or gave a believable explanation for the stain, so you kept trying to get away. As the two of you struggled, you could see your boyfriends face go from pissed, to panicked, accompanied by pleas for you to stay, to not leave, that he was sorry, but you ignored them all and just pulled on your aching wrist with all your might. Finally, you got your hand free, but without Chuuya to hold you up, you ended up falling backwards into the front door and knocking yourself silly. You could hear Chuuya talking to you, but the force of your skull smacking against the door made the world swim and distorted his words. Suddenly, he wrapped his arm around you and picked you up without an issue, ignoring your wriggling and disoriented arguments while your senses returned,          "Stay here, I'm sorry for losing my temper, alright? Just...Just come on, let's go to bed," he was saying, his words full of distress while he carried you to the bed and placed you in it, pushing you back when you tried to sit up. In record time, Chuuya got into the bed with you and pulled you close to him, keeping you trapped there in his strong arms and muttering apologies until you finally began to feel bad for your moment of rash decisions and just cuddled up to him with a sigh. You could talk to him about everything tomorrow.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Loki x Reader - Glorious Purpose - Words: 2,578

Based on this prompt:

Enemies-to-lovers, but instead of featuring a villain redemption arc, the heroic one is getting progressively more corrupt, unhinged and fucked up, and the one who was originally the clear-cut villain out of the two is just like "well mark me down as scared and horny"

You were a somewhat independent agent, but officially you worked with SHIELD. Fury had recruited you although you had yet to move back to New York to be closer to everything. At the moment, you were enjoying an extended stay in Europe. It had started with a small mission and you decided to vacation for a while, take a well deserved break.

"Champagne?" A waiter asked you. You nodded, taking a glass from his tray before he continued on. You'd managed to get yourself an invitation to a gala in Stuttgart and you weren't one to pass up free food and wine so you went. Your gaze floated across the room and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Everyone here had the same look: stuffy, stuck up, money coming out their-

"Pardon me," A man said. He walked up behind you, bumping into you accidentally.

"It's fine," You said automatically. Looking up at him, your eyes widened slightly. Now he was handsome. He smirked at you and you opened your mouth to say something but he turned away. Unfortunately, just as quickly as you had seen him and he had already gone. You wandered around for a few more minutes before the guest speaker walked out. You worked your way to the front of the crowd to listen to him. Even with your heels though you weren't tall enough to see over everyone. Suddenly you looked up, seeing movement on the stairs. For a moment you thought you'd see the man from earlier walking down. "Is he another guest speaker?" You wondered. Before you could get any closer to get a better view, you heard screaming. And then everyone started running. You finally elbowed your way to the front and saw the mysterious man walking away from the guest speaker who was now lying unconscious across the big fancy table. You ignored the speaker and chased after the dark-haired stranger. He had a dark smirk painted across his lips. Just before he walked outside, there was a bright glimmer around him and his sharp suit transformed into golden and leather armor. "A bit much," You thought with a silent chuckle. To get a better view, you transported yourself next to a small souvenir booth, watching as he approached the terrified crowd. Duplicates of his suddenly appeared around the edge of the crowd, including one only a few yards away from you.

"I said, KNEEL!" He yelled, slamming his scepter on the ground. The crowd immediately followed his orders. Your phone in your pocket buzzed and you discreetly checked it.

Are you still in Germany? - Fury

LOL I'm assuming you're heading my way. You should see this guy! 👑 - Y/N

Wait for the team, Y/N - Fury

…or what? 🙄😏 - Y/N

You pocketed your phone and walked out, skirting the crowd and making your way to the mystery man. The real one you assumed.

"Is not this simpler?" He started. "Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation." He spoke eloquently, not surprising you all that much considering his attire. Although his phrasing confused you slightly. It was as though he wasn't speaking to fellow humans. You supposed most men who considered themselves superior often did so though. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"Not to men like you," You spoke up, having snuck up beside him. He smirked, walking towards you and towering over you.

"There are no men like me," He gloated. He reached out to grab you but you ducked and ran behind him. Whipping around he held his scepter out, pointing at you. "Let her be an example to you!" He yelled to the crowd. As he shot, the Captain dropped in. He stood in front of you and blocked the blast with his shield.

"I didn't need that, Steve," You hissed.

"Just shut up and help me," He replied. You rolled your eyes and teleported to a more strategic location before Mr. Gold and Leather noticed.

"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing," Steve said. You rolled your eyes.

"We get it, Steve, you're old!" You yelled. Sometimes Steve got on your nerves. The man turned to you but Natasha quickly distracted him. She was flying the quinjet above, aiming a machine gun at him. They continued fighting and you watched the movements of the stranger, looking for a weak spot.

Suddenly you hear loud rock music blasting over the PA. Just before Iron Man swoops in, the music preceding his actual appearance, you see your chance. "Over here, pretty boy," You call out, your smirk almost matching his. As he approaches you, you whip out one of your knives from your thigh holster, twirling it in your hand.

"Oo, feisty," He grins. He points his scepter at you, about to touch your chest with it, when you teleport behind him. In the split second of his confusion, you jump up, grabbing the horns of his helmet, and kick him in the back of his knees. He falls back and you duck out of the way, letting him land hard on his back on the ground. He lets out a huff as the wind gets knocked out of him and you quickly stand over him, planting a foot on his chest. You know he could throw you off easily but you're holding a knife to his throat as well so you take your chances.

"Your turn," You say. He holds his hands up, his armor glimmering once again before revealing a much simpler outfit. You shook your head, still confused as to where he was from. This clothing was obviously not bought at the local department store. Once the team had restrained him and loaded him into quinjet, you wandered over to him, watching him closely. Cap and Stark were passive aggressively talking off to the side, as if the stranger couldn't hear them. You shook your head and walked over, taking a seat next to him. "Hi," You said with a small smile. "What's your name?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You do not know who I am?" He asked. You shook your head and chuckled.

"You're a well dressed man who apparently wants to take over the world. That's about all I know. Fury never tells me anything so I'm flying blind here."

"I am Loki of Asgard," He grinned. He was about to launch into his "Glorious purpose" speech, when thunder and lightning rattled loudly outside. Loki got a frightened look on his face, trying to look outside from his seat.

"Are you ok?" You asked. Loki's head whipped back to you, eyes staring into yours.

"I-no," He admitted, something in his eyes .

"What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?" Cap asked Loki.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," He said. As he spoke you finally figured it out.

"Your brother is Thor!" You exclaimed.

"Unfortunately," He replied as the God of Thunder himself landed on the roof of the plane. When Stark opened the back hatch and Thor landed inside, you frowned, nose scrunching in disgust.

"Oh my gosh what a himbo," You mumbled. Loki stared at you for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise, and opened his mouth to say something but was swiftly yanked out of his seat by his brother.

You didn't see Loki again until the Helicarrier. Up until that day you'd never doubted Fury even though you didn't like working with others, but suddenly you weren't sure who to trust. Stark and Banner thought Fury was up to no good with the Tesseract and, while Steve didn't want to agree with them, he just confirmed their theory. You just helped him break into the storage room and we're staring at each other in shock.

"Weapons. Fury is making weapons. That lying-"

"Ok," You sighed, interrupting the Captain's exclamation. "Get this back to Tony. I'm going to check on something else. Meet back at the lab?" Steve nodded and headed out with the gun.

You stealthily made your way to Loki's cell. While you were mildly terrified, you needed to talk to him. When you walked in the room, you saw Natasha already there.

"There's not many people that can sneak up on me," Loki said, smirking as he turned to face her.

"But you figured I'd come."

"After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."

You listened as they talked, hiding in an unseen corner of the room. "I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out," Natasha said.

"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov's daughter? Sao Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything?" At this point Loki had stood from his seat across the cell and was slowly making his way, stalking, towards her. "This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer, pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers.You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!" Finally he slammed his fist against the glass, startling both you and Natasha. "I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you! Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear! And when he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull! This is my bargain, you mewling quim!"

Natasha had backed away, shaking, eyes wide in terror. "You're a monster," She gasped.

"No," Loki chuckled darkly. "You brought the monster."

"So, Banner. That's your play," Natasha said, suddenly not crying or seemingly emotional at all. Loki was shocked. Natasha hurried out of the room, thanking Loki and talking hurriedly on her ear piece.

You quickly slipped out of your hiding place and hurried over to the cell. "What are you doing here?" Loki sneered.

"I have some questions," You said. He rolled his eyes and huffed. "Personal ones. This is for my own agenda."

"Fine, one question," He relented, smirking slightly. Loki fully expected you to still be trying to gather information from him.

"Look, I listened to your little speech there. I don't completely agree with you but you have a point. In some respects we're no better off than you," You said. Loki raised an eyebrow curiously, watching as you stood right against the glass, staring up at him confidently. "If I were to help you, what would be in it for me? I want an honest answer or at least a believable lie. Don't give me a "glorious purpose, bright lure of freedom" speech. Tell me something I can believe. What would you do if I helped you?"

"I can't promise you anything except your life. I promise I won't kill you. Now, if you're stupid enough get yourself killed-"

"I get it," You chuckled. Nodding you smiled at him. "I'll let you know." With that you left, leaving the God of Mischief to his thoughts.

When you rejoined the rest of the team in the Lab they were, unsurprisingly, arguing again. "I'm sorry, what were you lying?" Tony said, showing Fury the files he'd just hacked. Steve was standing next to the weapon, Fury was yelling, everyone was pointing fingers. You shook your head but saw your opportunity. In the commotion, no one was paying any attention to the scepter. You bit your lip nervously. You had to make a decision.

The entire Helicarrier was in chaos. It was nearly impossible to make your way to Loki's cell without being seen but you eventually made it. With so many agents running around you didn't want to risk teleporting and find yourself at the wrong end of their guns.

When you finally reached the cell you saw the door open and Loki standing in it. "No!" Thor yelled, running at him. You almost cried out to stop Thor but then you noticed movement from the other side of the glass cage. As Thor tumbled through Loki's illusion you grinned.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?" Loki asked Thor, locking him in the cell. Thor roars and slams Mjolnir on the glass which cracks under the impact. Both you and Loki are surprised, having thought the cell was indestructible. Loki walks over to the control panel slowly. "The humans think us immortal. Should we test that?" Before he can press the button, Agent Coulson shows up with one of the weapons you'd seen in storage.

"Move away, please," He says. "You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Do you wanna find out?"

As Phil was speaking you snuck up behind him. And just before he shot Loki you shoved the scepter into his back, stabbing him through. Pulling it back out you dropped him to the ground and grinned at Loki. 'Pity,' You thought. 'Phil always seemed to be such a nice guy.'

"Why did you do that?" Loki asked, staring at you in surprise. There was an odd look of terror and excitement on his face. "I didn't promise you anything."

"Yes you did," You said, walking up to him and handing him the scepter. "You promised me loyalty." The facade cracked for a moment, a soft smile slipping through. "And you're pretty."

"I like you!" Loki laughed, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. "Shall we?" He asks, gesturing to the red button.

"Of course," You reply. Your hand hovers over it and you glance back at Thor who is in disbelief. "It's nothing personal, Thor," You say. "Or, actually," You look back at Loki and smile. "It definitely is." You press the button and air whooshes around you as it falls to the earth below.

"You're gonna lose," Coulson says weakly.

"Am I?" Loki asks, turning to look at him.

"It's in your nature."

"Your heroes are scattered, your floating fortress falls from the sky. Where is my disadvantage?"

"You lack conviction," Phil replies.

"Not anymore," Loki sneers at him, holding you even tighter.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" You taunt. Suddenly you're both blasted out of the aircraft.

"So that's what it does."

You scream, closing your eyes and clinging to Loki as you both fall. "Calm down," Loki yells. Suddenly there's hard ground below you. As you open your eyes and reorient yourself you see it's actually hardwood.

"Where are we?" You ask.

"Stark Tower." Standing up you see the city skyline before you just outside the window. "It's about to begin," He says. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes," You reply immediately, taking his hand. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly in contrast to his overall demeanor.

"We shall rule together then, my queen," He promises. You nod and kiss him again before you walk out to the balcony to wait for the inevitable arrival of the Avengers.

"Together."

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Betrothed Ch. 4 - Sirius Black

Betrothed Ch. 4

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

Warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, aggressive parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: Oh my god this is so long! I hope you guys like it, i think there is only 2 chapters left, idk yet. Anyway Feedback is always welcome, thank you guys :)

Xxxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5 

When Y/n got home, she had time before going to the Malfoys, so she was planning on how to gently tell her parents she didn’t want to go and that she wasn’t going to accept their marriage proposal too. She spend days thinking and decided it was time, because her mom was already telling her to get prepared to go, so she sent a letter to Sirius as promised telling him she would talk to her parents on that day. 

Later the family sat down in a living room and waited for Y/n to say what she wanted to.

“So? What do you want to tell us, your father and I are busy” her mother said impatiently, not knowing the bomb her daughter would throw at her.

Y/n took a deep breath and said “I don’t want to marry Malfoy, I’m not accepting his proposal.” As simple as that single phrase sounded like, it cost her so much more. Her parents were outraged to say the very least, how could she misbehave after all those year of being so obedient.

“What do you mean you won’t? Yes you will, the Malfoys are getting their answers next week” Her mother screamed.

To say her parent were furious was an understatement. She was disrespecting not only their choice of husband, but also their ancient family traditions. But in reality that’s exactly what she felt like, those traditions were ancient and full of nonsense, it is completely wrong to promise a girl to some narcissist, conservative, arrogant, aggressive prick and make her spend the rest of her life with him, loosing all of her liberty.

“Are you calling Lucius a prick? He is a member of one respectable family Y/n!” Her father grunted, grabbing his wand.

“Why? Because they’re pureblood?” Y/n yelled, since she was already fighting their principles she might as well do it right. “That’s nonsense why would a blood status change a person? It doesn't change anything, I know many muggle borns who are ten times better people than you are, you think you can judge everyone, just because you’re pure? Or rich? Or call yourself royal? Which is absurd by the way, you and I know there isn’t royalty in our world, you only say that because you want to be better than everyone else, so you lie and you’re powerful enough for people to believe you” she roared, it felt incredible to take some of her frustrations out of her chest for once in her life, she didn’t have to pretend to be a well behaved purist, like she was before.

Mr. Watson wouldn’t believe his daughter, he didn’t want to, so he kept blinding himself from the ugly truth that he was indeed wrong. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting our tradition Y/n” with a wave from his hands Charles hit Y/n with the Cruciatus curse, taking her to the ground almost immediately. 

“Dad! Stop- you’re hurting me, please! You’re hurting me” She cried and begged and squirmed, it felt agonising the pain touched each and every part of her body, the tears ran freely down her face, after being hit a certain amount of times she just felt numb to the pain, she stayed still wrapping her knees with all the strength she had left.

“You are going to marry Lucius Malfoy and you are going to accept his proposal in person when you go to his house, because you’re still going and I don’t want to hear a single complain or any of these ideas you cultivated in your mind, you are going to bring us respect” With no remorse her father left her there small, hugging her legs and crying alone, earning only a polite nod from her mother followed by a ‘I warned you’ look.

The rest of her time at home went by so slow she thought a whole month had passed, she was now feeling so bad being in her own house that she almost wanted to go to the Malfoys. Her parents weren’t even letting her see the mail, which meant she wasn’t receiving Sirius’ letters. Her sister wouldn’t talk with her anymore, scared of having the same fate as Y/n and her brother didn’t even know what was happening with his little sister.

The day she was going to the Malfoy manor had arrived. Her parents dropped her there in that shark tank like it meant nothing, they didn’t even bother saying good bye, she had come a long way from being the perfect daughter, who was always respectful with her parents and their ideals. Being at the Malfoys felt like being in Azkaban, but it was still better than being at home at least, there she was treated with extreme respect by Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, they were doing it out of interest of course but it was better than nothing, her only problem was Lucius, she hated him and hated even more that she’d need to sleep in his bed with him and even more that she’d have to accept his proposal by the end of the week. She felt stuck.

After having dinner Mrs. Malfoy showed you to Lucius’ room, while the house elf carried Y/n’s trunk next to the bed. The room was nice and big but it was cold and dark, she felt bad in there, fear creeping into her chest as her whole body felt numb, she just wished she could be in Sirius’ bed in the dormitories, she didn’t know why but there, by Sirius’ side was the most perfect place to be, she felt warm and safe.

“That’s it sweetheart, goodnight” after showing the room, with a final goodbye Mrs. Malfoy let her there alone, with Lucius. He was handsome, sharp jaw, strong upper body, beautiful face, she couldn’t deny it but it felt so wrong, it was sickening, she didn’t love him, she couldn’t, he was a terrible person.

“Look Y/n/n, I have to say, back in Hogwarts I was a bit jealous from you and Sirius, but now, being here with you, feels so right” he said as he was inching closer to her “Come on, let’s go to bed” his fingers were brushing her waist, the single phrase and action made her feel sick, his touch was ice cold, but what choice did she have. Y/n knew the punishment she’d have to face if she didn’t behave

“Ok” she replied, mouth dry “I’ll go change, in the bathroom”. She opened her trunk and looked for comfortable pyjamas, but to her surprise there were only vulgar sleeping clothes and lingeries, she felt a cold in her spine that made her sicker, her mother had it all planned out, crazy she thought, her mother is crazy. The last straw was when she saw a note from her mom.

Bought you some new clothes for you to share with Lucius.

Love,

Mom

She wondered what would It feel like to have a real caring mother, not one that just clearly wants her to have sex so she can have grandchildren. But she was born on a deranged family. She had no choice, so she just chose the pieces that were most discreet and even those weren't even a bit discreet, it was a black lace bra that at least covered her breasts perfectly and went a bit down and matching panties, if there was something she was sure of, it was that she didn’t want to see Lucius’ face when he saw her.

But again, she had no choice, when she entered the room again Lucius gaze fell directly on her chest. “My eyes are up here you know right?” She asked with a bored voice, while lying down in bed, much to her dismay.

“Feisty” he chuckled lying in bed besides her “I’ve always liked you Watson” Lucius was being a tease but she could see it in his eyes that he was drooling over her. She hated it. So she turned over and closed her eyes, wanting desperately to sleep for the whole time she’d be stuck there “Good night for you too, love” the nickname Sirius used to call her seemed so cold now, sounded fake coming form Lucius’ mouth. That night her thoughts kept going back to Sirius, she wondered if he was trying to talk to her, trying to reach her somehow but being unsuccessful thanks to her cruel parents. She missed him, his touch, his affections and she missed Lily, if she was here they’d talk the whole night and then maybe it wouldn’t fell so lonely, she missed reading with Remus, joking and pranking people with James and how protective he was and Peter’s cute but sarcastic comments, she missed her true family.

The next few days sucked, Y/n was running out of the less vulgar clothes, Lucius was always trying to kiss her and get close to her and the Malfoys’ forced kindness was beginning to annoy her, on top of that she didn’t feel like home in this house, she didn’t feel comfortable to do anything, basically she was counting the days until she could go back to Hogwarts.

——————————

Sirius knew something was wrong when Y/n didn’t answer any of his letters, assuming that she’d now probably be at the Malfoys, he needed to talked to her. The thought of Malfoy touching her and the things he could do made his blood boil, she was his friend after all. But things at his home weren’t good, his parents were breathing down his neck so he need to find a way to escape, so, of course he asked James for help.

James and Sirius had come up with a plan, but it was certainly dangerous and potentially problematic, just like everything they did. The plan was: Sirius would sneak away from his house, once he managed to do so he would meet with James in his house and the both boys would go pay the Malfoys a visit, once inside Sirius would need to distract the Malfoys since their families are friends while James helped Y/n run away to his house. It wasn’t quite a brilliant plan, they didn’t have much time to think, but Sirius needed to be sure she was safe.

Now Sirius thought he would have great difficulty running away, he waited for everyone to fall asleep to leave his bedroom, managed to avoid the elves, went to the broom closet, grabbed a broomstick, everything was doing great, except for one thing. Sirius’ brother Regulus thought he had herd something and went downstairs, only to find he’s rebellious younger brother trying to run away.

“What do you think you’re doing this time of night Sirius?” Regulus asked not even a bit surprised by his brother’s actions.

Shit, Sirius thought, he had two options lie or tell the truth. He chose the boldest one “Reg, don’t tell our parents” he looked helpless for the first time in his life, Regulus was quite startled “I need to save my friend, she’s in danger. I know we’re not in the best terms but, do this one favour for me-” he paused “I really care about this girl, she’s the Watson’s daughter, you know her”

“What? The Watson’s… you mean Y/n? What happed Sirius? She’s my friend too, is she okay?” He was going to tell his parents before but now he was curious and worried, he liked Y/n, she was nice to him on eventual encounters in their common room or classes.

“She’s- she’s being held captive at the Malfoys” it wasn’t a lie.

“Held captive? And what about her parents? her dad is the Minister of Magic Law Enforcement, what is it you can do that he can’t and on top of that why are the Malfoys supposedly holding her captive?” Regulus was being particularly annoying, he was suspicious of Sirius’ intentions.

“Her parents gave her away, they want her to marry Lucius, but she doesn’t. And i’m willing to ask for her hand if she accepts me, but she wanted to confront her parents, which clearly went terribly wrong” Sirius tried to defend his theses but he didn’t know if Regulus would be willing to let him go or he’d say that she has to marry who her parents want.

“You’re being absurd Sirius, it can’t possibly be that bad, it’s a marriage, considering our families, it’d happen sooner or later. You can’t stop it, if the Malfoys tell our parents they’ll kill you” Regulus was irritated at first, she was only doing what she was supposed to.

“I’m going either way” Sirius wasn’t letting his brother get in the way.

“Ok.” Sirius would be lying if he said he’s jaw hadn’t dropped to the floor. Actually Regulus was quite shocked too, hearing he’s brother say he was willing to marry a girl and a girl that their parents would approve was indeed shocking and he liked Y/n, the thought of her suffering made him less strict with his brother for once.

“W-well- hum ok then” Sirius left as quickly as he could, afraid this was only an hallucination.

James was waiting for Sirius with his bedroom’s window open. When he entered they both went to bed and talked until they fell asleep, the next day would be eventful. Assuming they woke up right before lunch, the boys hurriedly set everything necessary for the plan, muttered apologies to James’ parents and went to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy. The weather outside was cold, but the sun was shining, making the travel rather beautiful, but the boys didn’t even notice, they were too worried, James couldn’t stop thinking about how Malfoy was treating his best friend, he hated him so much, Sirius had another motives, he hadn’t realised yet and it may take a little push, but he was jealous.

Arriving at that creepy mansion James and Sirius separated, James sneaked in quietly looking for Y/n’s belongings, while Sirius knocked on the door. The house elf asked him to come in and called his master. Mrs. Malfoy was quite surprised but tolerant.

“Good Morning, may i ask your name?” She asked politely 

“Oh i’m Sirius Black, Walburga’s son” 

“Oh! Sirius what a pleasant surprise, is Walburga going to visit us today?” 

“No madam” he paused, grabbing a gift he stole from his parents earlier “my mom asked me to give you this present, I don’t really know why, she didn’t want to tell me what it was” He never lied so badly in his entire life, but knowing Y/n was probably miserable was distracting him.

She found it suspect but didn’t do anything, it was better ti ignore it “How lovely, come in and have lunch with us, Y/n and Lucius will be thrilled to see you” Mrs. Malfoy suggested, probably trying to maintain friendly due to her relationship with the Black family.

Y/n really will, he thought. 

When Y/n saw Sirius she felt hope rise in her chest for the first time since beginning of the break, she ran and hugged him tightly, the hug felt warn and safe, she didn’t want to ever let go. But she had to, the action was inappropriate. “Sirius!!! What are you doing here, what a lovely visit” she said winking at him, trying to hold composure but failing.

“Sirius” Lucius greeted him too cordially “Came to visit my fiancé?” He asked with a smug look on his face.

“Not yet, darling” Y/n retorted with a fake smile

Sirius sat next to her at the big table, the room was dark and big, the table was made of hardwood the only light sources were the sun and a weak candelabra, the room had a giant fireplace that was probably the only warm place in the house and heavy curtains. When Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy were distracted, Sirius whispered to Y/n “Say you have to go to the bathroom, James’ waiting for you outside, he probably already has your Trunk”.

His word startled Y/n, that was a dream come true, but she couldn’t “Sirius, I can’t leave, my parents would kill me” she paused to check if no one was listening “If I run it would create a conflict between my parents and the Malfoys and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of it.” She said pretending to pay attention on Lucius’ commentaries “I’m going to stay here” she continued, shocking Sirius completely.

“But your parents want you to get married Y/n, are you just going to- marry Malfoy and the rest of your life with him?” she looked tense, knowing she’d have no choice, he hated seeing her like that. 

Suddenly she heard Sirius clear his throat loudly, scaring her “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk with Y/n” he paused, the Malfoys were now looking at him “In private, if you allow us- it’s urgent” Mrs Malfoy looked a little confused but nodded. Sirius took Elena out of the room almost immediately.

“Y/n why in the name of Merlin are you staying here?” 

“I can’t go Sirius, I told you, the Malfoys wouldn’t be happy, it could cause a conflict my parents want to avoid” Sirius didn’t look convinced, he knew she was just making excuses but he didn’t know why.

“Really? Isn’t you’re family the most powerful in the sacred-twenty-eight?” He commented mockingly “Why would they be scared of the Malfoys?” Sirius could see the fear in her eyes, she wanted to go but was scared, so he sat her down on a coach near and asked her with those protective grey eyes that made her feel so protected “Y/n, it’s alright you can tell me anything” he said covering her hands in his protectively.

“No, i-i i can’t tell you” He squeezed her hands reassuringly saying that no one would know if she told him. She took a deep breath, e/c eyes staring at his grey ones “If i run, my parents, will kill me” she said eyes now full of fear, it made them look darker.

“Theoretically, right?” He asked concerned, knowing deep down what kind of family the Watsons were, he was surprised with his shock, cursing himself for the stupid question.

“No Sirius!” She whispered shouted “They’ll actually kill me, you want to know how I ended up here at the Malfoys after I told them I didn’t want to come? Do you?” She looked at him waiting for an answer, he nodded “They used two of the three unforgivable curses on me, every day until I agreed to come and marry Lucius” her voice was cracking “They used Imperio, made me not move and then used Cruciatus, I was feeling so much pain that I thought I was going to die and worse, I couldn't move a toe, I couldn’t even try to ease my pain by screaming and moving because i was under their control.” His eyes were now burning with anger “To get me to come here they used Imperio again and I don’t them to use it ever again, I lost all my free will, so what choice do I have?” Her voice was cracking, fighting the urge to cry, only the mere thought of what had happed scared her. “They’d rather see me dead than seeing me go rogue and ruin the family name” she paused, taking a breath and continued, desperation written all over her face “Why do you think i’ve always been pureblood propaganda for my parents? The gracious perfect daughter, perfect sister, the perfect student? because if I did what you do” she gestured at him “They’d kill me” She finished, looking at him, eyes begging for help, face trying miserably to hide her emotions. Sirius was scared, not even his parents had ever done something of the sort and they creative punishers. So he wrapped her in his arms not wanting to ever let her go, wanting to protect every strand of hair in her head. She melted into his embrace, all of the fear and agony being soothed.

“Oh Merlin Y/n, i’m so sorry” Sirius almost cried when she hugged him back tightly, looking for safety in his arms, the arms she knew so well. After a few moments Sirius said abruptly “Marry me Y/n” he felt her body stiffen “Please, I know you can handle this on your own, but I don’t want you to” he paused, caressing her hair “Please marry me, the Black name should be enough for your parents to accept the union, just let me take care of you, please” 

For the first time, Y/n didn’t protest, she just nodded and buried her head on his chest, she knew this plan was reckless and would make her parents angry, but she couldn’t control herself, it was like her body couldn’t take the pain anymore. “Y/n, go find James, he’s outside. I’ll talk with Malfoy, please just go, ok?” He kissed her forehead, as she stood up and went to find James.

Sirius went back to the dining room and explained that Y/n had to go home, because she would refuse Lucius’ proposal. The Malfoys were startled and outraged, she didn’t even have the guts to tell them herself? She had to bring another boy? It was all a waste of time and i’d be a disgrace for the Malfoy name if someone found out their son were rejected by a Watson, but surprisingly Sirius managed to convince them, no one created excuses as good as him. Surprisingly the Malfoys didn’t try to stop him, it was a miracle, even though they couldn’t do anything since Y/n wasn’t their daughter and it’d make a scene that could ruin their reputation, that wouldn’t last long though, they needed to run, because they would certainly contact Y/n’s parents to give a piece of their minds, it was a deal after all, they didn’t understand what happened.

“Well then Mr. Black, we hope everything’s turns out to be fine” Mrs. Malfoy politely sneered with a wave of goodbye.

“Eh-hm Thank you Mrs. Malfoy, we’re sorry for the inconvenience” Sirius said a bit nervous, leaving the room as quickly as he could.

While Sirius was talking with the Malfoys, Y/n was running to the front gate where James was waiting for her. “Y/n/n!” He shouted as he saw her running his way, when she arrived he wrapped her in a bear hug lifting her off the ground. “I’m so glad you’re okay” he said warmly, form this day on, feeling her fear as she hugged him back James considered her his sister and she considered him her brother, since he protected her, risked a rescue when she needed the most, that meant the world. 

“I’m glad to see you too Prongs” she chuckled lightly at his protective brother hug.

“Here” he said pointing to his broomstick “We’re going together, to my house, when Sirius arrive” she nodded climbing up the broom behind him.

James and Y/n were already waiting, ready to leave, when Sirius showed up getting on his broom saying “Let’s go, let’s go before they warn your parents” and taking off, James following right after. Riding their brooms fast against the cold winter air, happy that their mental plan had worked. When the trio arrived at the Potters, James’ mom was in the garden, certainly not expecting her son and his friend to arrive with a h/c girl with e/c eyes stained with tears.

“James, care to explain?” His mother asked unable to hide her surprise, but going to help the girl and try to calm her down “Let’s go inside, i’ll make you some tea sweetie and you two will explain me what happened” she said looking at the boys.

So, once inside, the boys explained what Y/n was going through and how she was being tortured and forced to marry Malfoy. Euphemia, was disgusted with Y/n’s parents, she had heard of their reputations before but this was cruel. During the whole explanation Y/n was quiet, riding out of her shock, they guessed, until she spoke and everyone went silent “I need to to my house” she said so low it was almost inaudible, they were sure they had heard it wrong but then she said it louder this time “I need to go home before things get worse” the room went silent.

“You’re not going back there Y/n” Sirius was the first to talk, desperation in his voice.

“They’ll kill me if I don’t go back” 

“There, One more reason, it’s not safe” James added, but she insisted.

Sirius stopped, looking at her “Ok then, I’m going with you, after I pay mommy dear a visit. Can you wait only until that? i’ll be as quick as possible” 

“Yeah Y/n wait a little and calm down, you can stay here until he comes back” James said patting her shoulder gently.

“No, I don’t want to bother your parents, I’m fine” she said shyly, earning a shrug from Mrs. Potter “-and I-i don’t know how long it’ll take until my parents find out i left the Malfoys, it’s too risky” 

“Dear, calm down, there’s no problem in you staying here, I promise, wait for Sirius, he’ll be there for you, your parents are not going to hurt you. If your plan doesn’t work then you can stay here with us, just rest for a bit” Euphemia said with a motherly smile on her face.

“But Sirius don’t you think your parents will be warned too?” Y/n tried to protest but James’ mom was already showing her to her room.

Y/n was so tired from the restless nights at the Malfoys, from the fear she constantly felt that Lucius would do something to her and from her parents, that when Euphemia offered the guest room and put her there, she drifted to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Sirius caressed her hair and laid beside for a minute to make sure she was alright after the turbulent events from the break.

While she slept he told James about his plan to marry her, He was a Black, her parents would certainly be pleased with the union if the anger from the Malfoy incident passed and his parents would never refuse to wed him with a Watson, it’d be like refusing royalty, maybe it’d be difficult to explain the latest incident but anyway it was the offer of a lifetime. “Wow, Sirius are you sure? I mean, I want to save Y/n too, but- this, are you sure? This whole marriage thing is mental” James gasped.

“Her parents won’t let her stay here, they’ll try to get her back and make her marry someone else, since we humiliated Lucius, they won’t stop, I know how these people get” Sirius stated “But if I go to my parents and convince them to ask her hand to the Watsons, since she’s not officially betrothed to anyone yet, not only they’ll be thrilled but they’ll also do anything to convince her parents. And my parents would Betroth me one day too so this is just the best option for both of us” James couldn’t argue, it was a good plan in the rough.

“So you’re getting married, that’s serious” James teased “Our dear friend Y/n/n will be future Mrs. Black” he laughed hard at Sirius’ blushed face. “Oh Merlin!” He pointed a finger to Sirius “You like her! You- fancy Y/n, Merlin” James was so excited “It all makes sense, this friends with benefits thing would never work and that’s why you’re so relaxed about marrying her, because you fancy Y/N/N, Merlin!” 

“No I don’t, shove off Prongs, you’re hallucinating, we’re friends” The blush on his face wasn’t ignored by James, who laughed harder “Now, i need to go home and convince mommy Black to talk to the Watsons” Sirius cut James off, leaving the room heading to the hell he called home.

“Whatever you say Pads” James yelled from the kitchen.

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

taglist: @msmb​ ❤️

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Wrath and Rage

Wrath x reader

Word Count: 1762

Summary: Wrath already had a queen when he was summoned to Emilia’s side. Needless to say she wasn’t happy about his absence. 

Note: He’s hot, and I had a plot bunny. don’t worry about it

You didn’t bother to hide the laugh that bubbled up from your throat at what your husband just told you. “So you got spooked and dropped your knife, is that it?”

Those golden eyes of his seemed to glow with irritation as he looked over at you. “Well, I don’t exactly want humans to know I’m around, now do I?”

This time you scoffed. “If some little witch managed to figure out that she’d just laid eyes on Prince Wrath himself based on that teensy little interaction, I’d want to meet her and shake her hand.”

“But the knife--”

“Is no indication of who you are on its own, and you damn well know it.” You slid your hands down the front of his shirt, fingers deftly opening it button by button. “Relax, my darling. You’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off about this whole Pride thing for so long. I’ve hardly seen you in weeks.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

You did. The trips never took very long at all, after all, but you still missed him. Before this it’d been centuries since he’d been away from you in the human world for any real length of time. “Be that as it may . . .” You slid the shirt off of him and allowed your fingers to trail down the golden snake on his left arm, a mark that had an exact twin on your own skin. “All you have to do,” you kissed that shoulder, “in order to keep Pride’s whole search,” this kiss was to his neck, “a secret,” jaw, “is get it back before the little witch does anything stupid.” That last bit was whispered next to his ear.

Then his lips were suddenly on yours, as demanding as ever as he shoved you against the wall. He tugged at the laces to your pants while his lips moved to your neck.

“See what you miss when you’re--” your teasing voice cut off when the heat of his body suddenly disappeared, “gone.” You opened your eyes. Sure enough, Wrath was nowhere to be found. Anger flared through you, its presence making the shadows writhe around you.

The only reason he would leave like that would be a summoning, something out of his control. And the only person dumb enough to summon a prince of Hell would be that. Fucking. Witch. Rage, the emotion your power stemmed from, swelled throughout your body.

She will pay for this.

~

Little did you know that in the human realm, your husband was thinking something similar. 

The combination of Emilia’s staring and the searing mark that’d appeared on his normally-clear arm set his teeth on edge. It shouldn’t be possible, a second betrothal spell in addition to the already fulfilled one he had with you--willingly, he might add--; yet there it was. Moon-shaped and clashing with his color scheme.

Still, he didn’t let on to what it truly meant. Odds were good that it wouldn’t amount to anything anyway, especially if he had a say. And if it did . . . Heaven help the woman that had to face the ire of the Queen of House Wrath.

~

In your time spent forcefully separated from each other, you and Wrath found yourselves weaving a complicated web to end this stupid endeavor in your favor, not the way Emilia wanted. And as soon as she agreed to marry Pride, your victory was sealed. Hours before that, when he’d died in the human realm, Wrath explained fully what had been going on since the messengers that’d been frantically flitting between you two could only convey so much, and you’d spent the time planning the final pieces of this battle of wits.

And enjoying each other’s company, but that was neither here nor there.

When it came time for Wrath to retrieve her, you lounged on the bed as he dressed, crown and all. “You can’t kill her when we return,” Wrath was saying while you watched him.

Your eyes moved to stare hatefully where their mark of betrothal used to reside. “I am aware,” you bit out.

“Are you?” There was an evil little smirk on his face when he turned to look at you. “Because your shadow seems to have other ideas.”

Sure enough, when you glanced down you saw that your shadow seemed to be holding a knife. Always the cause of your bad poker face, that thing. With a flare of gold in your eyes, you brought the shadow back under control, and it resumed being a silhouetted version of you, nothing more. The frown that’d been on your face since this mess started though, that stayed stubbornly in place.

Wrath took that as his cue to sweep closer elegantly, fingers trailing lightly down the golden body of the snake on your arm. “I swore to you the day we married that no one would ever come between us, did I not?”

“You did.” And Hell if your voice didn’t sound sullen despite yourself. You wanted to be unbothered by this. Truly, you did. But it was just so . . . unsettling to hear that someone had (however ignorantly) tried to steal him from you.

His free hand drifted over to grab the crown that still rested on the duvet. Your crown. The match to his own with spikes sharp enough to kill a man if you so chose. “Have I ever given reason for you to doubt that vow?”

“You haven’t.” That was true. A demon like Lust might have warranted such a fear, but Wrath was another kind of beast, an honest one. At least when it mattered. Mattered to you, that is. A warmth settled in your chest as your fingers moved to lightly hold his.

“Then why are you doubting me now?” his lips were pressed to your temple and he placed the crown on your head as he murmured the question.

Moments like this you remembered why you married him with perfect clarity. For the first time since he was stolen weeks ago a heat other than rage burned through you like a flashfire. “It’s not that I doubt you,” you said, turning so you could see his fierce, golden eyes. “It’s that I hate her.”

“Soon enough she will be Pride’s problem,” he soothed, “not ours.”

“Good,” you snarled before sealing your lips against his.

~

If Wrath’s lips were swollen suspiciously when he stepped out of the shadows to bring her to Pride, Emilia couldn’t work up the courage to comment on it. She was already in this mess with these demons so much deeper than she ever expected; she didn’t think her heart could take the stress of picking that particular fight on top of everything else. Besides, they weren’t bonded anymore; it wasn’t any of her business who he did or didn’t kiss.

Still, for some reason her heart stung at the thought of him with someone else after all they’d been through together.

But then they were bantering like it was all normal.

And then she was trying to scream in agony as it felt like someone lit her soul ablaze.

And then they were standing in a throne room steeped in black and gold and red.

This wasn’t House Pride, she realized abruptly. These were Wrath’s colors through and through.

“You’ll have to forgive the brief stop here,” a woman’s voice called Emilia’s attention to the front of the room. She was beautiful. Leather pants, a billowing shirt, boots that looked artfully worn-in, all steeped in nothing but black. The only spot of color in her wardrobe was the golden crown atop her head. A flash of gold on the back of her hand drew Emilia’s attention. “A prince of Hell like my husband can only travel directly from the human realm to his home. An envoy from Pride awaits outside to escort you to your Betrothed.”

Emilia’s ears started and were still ringing at the word ‘husband’ by the time she finished talking. The gold she’d noticed on her hand. It was an exact copy of the snake she’d seen on Wrath’s body the night she summoned him. Confusion lanced through her. “What--”

You laughed, cutting her off. This was rich. “You never stopped to wonder what the mark on his other arm was?” You rose from your seat, shadows coiling around your feet menacingly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”

Emilia could only stare at the approaching figure, alarmed by the casual display of power as well as the pitch black veil surrounding her that was every bit as threatening as the black and gold one around Wrath. She had to fight to retain any form of dignity and stay carefully neutral-faced when Wrath’s hand settled on the woman’s lower back in a display so casual it couldn’t have been faked.

“How terrible to meet you,” you scoffed. “You can call me Rage.”

A fitting emotion for such a terrifying queen, Emilia supposed.

“I think it goes without saying that if I ever see you lurking around my husband again, not even your betrothal to my brother-in-law will save you.”

Said husband had a look of evil smugness on his handsome face that made Emilia recoil a little. Then a thought occurred to her. “If you already have a queen, then why--”

“Was everyone pushing me to make it official with you?” Wrath cut her off, one eyebrow arching. “That answer is quite simple if you think about it.”

“Which is exactly why she hasn’t figured it out,” you smirked. “They don’t like me because I’m not intimidated by them just existing as princes of Hell.” You turned to face Wrath, loving the automatic way his eyes trailed over your form heatedly. He’d been worked up since the two of you dressed; there hadn’t been time to burn off some of the aggression that danced within both of you. “ Now,” you addressed her even as your hand moved to cup his face, thumb skimming along his cheekbone appreciatively, “you’ve robbed me of Wrath here for quite long enough on top of forcing me to singlehandedly deal with the idiocy of lower demons. You’re lucky I don’t kill you for the former, and I hate you even more for the latter, so kindly get the hell out of House Wrath.”

You didn’t spare the girl a glance as a guard moved to escort her out. No, you only had eyes for your husband . . . at least until your eyes closed when you dragged him down for a bruising kiss.

[thegeneralguy]

The Champion of Olympus - Ares’s Arrogance

By thegeneralguy

Revised by @amalianetwork​

The chariot of the sun was finishing its daily round over Mount Olympus, leaving a crimson trail in its path. The beautiful sky was painted red, the golden rooftops of the monumental temples and lavish palaces reflecting the majestic sunset´s light. In the inner circle of heaven, the faint sound of metal clashes resonated through the cloudy hills, where all the Olympian´s residences stood proudly watching over the vast extent of the celestial realm. The furious battle cries were coming from the dominion of the god of war. The magnificent mansion stood out of the rest of the buildings due to the dark marble composing its solemn columns, along with a vibrant bronze rooftop that illuminated the surroundings in a permanent hue of carmine.

The aggressive cacophony was coming from the inner courtyard, which occupied the biggest part of the palace. Ares was in the middle of a fierce battle against two other gods, wielding his giant golden spear to strike them with fury over and over again. His extremely muscular body did not impede his battle prowess, as he gracefully danced with the spear as an extension of his limbs. Both lesser gods brandished two identical golden swords, masterfully avoiding and countering the bigger deity's attacks. With the might of his enormous arm, the god of war planted his weapon on the ground propelling himself into a somersault and successfully jumping over the two surprised beings. Suspended on the air he then knocked down both his foes with a fast sweep of his powerful leg, landing gracefully on top of them.

"Again."

He said in a gruff bass voice, his fiery crimson eyes glaring down at the two defeated gods struggling to get back on their feet. Just as they were getting ready to clash weapons again, a bright pink flash replaced the bloody red atmosphere for an instant, leaving behind the most beautiful woman in existence. Ares put down his spear and walked towards his past lover, Aphrodite. She stared seductively at her forbidden object for desire. After all the eons resisting the urge to touch again, the mighty god of war still looked as imposing as the first time they fell for each other. His white robe was perched over one shoulder, exposing one half of his titanic chest. The enormous arms he once used to crack the skulls of his enemies rippled with power, thick veins pumping the holy ichor inside of them. His legs looked stronger than the dark marble columns supporting the palace. Many mementos from his previous battles decorated his bronze skin in the form of many little marks left by the few weapons that were able to harm him.

His brutish face was half concealed by a dense black beard and had a big scar that ran across from his hanging brow, through his eye, and got lost in the hair on his square chin. His intimidating appearance was only accentuated by his bald head, along with the piercing red eyes that flared with the rage of a thousand wars underneath. He approached the goddess, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her close, only to be pushed back by her slender arm.

"You know how he gets when he knows we're together, Ares."

The beautiful deity could barely hold her urge to make love with the masculine god in front of her, but the fear was greater than any other primal instinct she could feel. Ares grunted annoyed, and let the woman out of his embrace.

"I could take on him you know, and you would be finally free. Free to be with me for the rest of eternity."

Aphrodite looked at her former lover with a deep-rooted sadness behind her dark pink eyes and raised her elegant hand to caress the god's rough cheek. Ares took her hand delicately, like a gorilla grabbing the most delicate of a rose's petals, and planted a kiss full of passion and nostalgia of an immemorial time, when they were together, on her palm. They both stood still for a moment, and then Aphrodite removed her hand from his grip and took a step back.

"You know that can't be. Even though you're the god of war and combat, you're still no match for Hephaestus's might. Remember what happened last time."

Ares's winced for a moment, his melancholic visage quickly returning to its natural angry sneer. Of course, he remembered the humiliation his brother put his own wife and him through, exposing their affair to the rest of the gods. The animosity both of his parents felt for him only increased, making the god even more of an outcast than he already was. Only his desire for the goddess of beauty was stronger than his undying loyalty for his father, trying desperately to gain his favor in every conflict. But all his attempts failed miserably, especially when his sister Athena was involved. Zeus, although prideful and violent, was a brilliant strategist and he always sided with his wiser and more intelligent daughter, often leaving the god of war hurt in his pride. He looked back at Aphrodite reproachingly, wondering what the goddess's visit truly meant.

"What are you looking for Aphrodite? If you know Hephaestus doesn't like to see you with me, what is it that brings you to interrupt my training?"

"I know how these situations tend to put you under too much pressure. I just wanted to ask what you were planning to do concerning the trial of the Champion."

"It's been a long time since father has put a challenge on all of us. This might be my opportunity to prove once and for all that I'm the one he should be turning to in troubling times, not Athena."

The god of war was a force to be reckoned with. His prowess in battle was matched by no one in Mount Olympus, and his sheer force was only rivaled by few other deities. But although he was a fearsome opponent for whoever dared in challenging him, he had one fatal flaw: his arrogance. His thirst for blood and violence, when combined with his superiority complex, bred poor choices in and out of battle, often resulting in the mighty god being ridiculed. All the emotions from defeat were only magnified by his enormous ego, creating a bitter outcast who was often ignored by the rest of his fellow deities. Aphrodite knew that deep inside that glorious body and arrogant demeanor was a deep sadness product of rejection from his own family.

"I know how you feel Ares, but I would advise you not to waste too much energy in this affair. You know how Zeus can be when it comes to a world-ending crisis. I don't want you to get more hurt…"

She then took a step forward to put her hand on his gargantuan chest. Ares quickly turned his back towards Aphrodite, unable to keep the emotions from projecting on his face.

"What do you, the goddess of beauty, know about rejection? Father is completely blind to my superior power, and it's my duty to show him he has the most mighty ally for whatever challenge he might face. I have to eclipse the other competitors to take my rightful place on his side. Especially Athena."

The rivalry between the god of war and the goddess of wisdom was not unheard of in Mount Olympus. Even the epic tales from the terrestrial plane depicted the many victories Athena had against Ares. The big scar on the god's face was an eternal reminder of the goddess's superior abilities, often fueling the god's rage in battle every time he caught a glimpse of it in the reflection of a shield. Aphrodite wasn't very keen on Athena either, often clashing with her because of their separate views on vices and virtues, but it was nothing compared to the strong hatred Ares felt for her. The goddess of beauty then took a few steps forward to stand next to the strong deity.

"I guess there is no point in trying to stop you. I would advise you to be careful though. I don't know if you noticed, but Zeus's demeanor seemed very strange during the reunion. You'd be deceiving yourself if you didn't think the ascension of a new champion is not something out of the ordinary."

The god of war stood quiet for some time, reflecting on Aphrodite's words. It was true that the ritual of ascension was a holy ceremony, reserved for heroic acts of celebration instead of an emergency of this type. The last time he tried to gift a mortal with the divine essence, he watched helplessly as his devotee was consumed by its power, obliterating him. He couldn't even remember when was the last time the ritual was successful. But all these concerns were of little meaning for Ares. Before he stood a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his power and to show his abnegation for his father.

"I already made up my mind, Aphrodite. I will personally descend to the Earth and create the best Champion there is. No one will be able to stand against him, for he will be forged by my superior power."

Aphrodite let out a frustrated sigh, knowing her attempts of dissuading the god from taking part in this ridiculous plan were pointless. This whole plot seemed very suspicious for her, but she couldn't exactly point out what was going on. If Ares wasn't going to help her find out, she'll have to resort to other more extreme means. She then looked at the two godlings standing firmly waiting for Ares's command. Both looked practically identical, standing tall and strong like their father, but their handsome faces devoid of their progenitor's magnificent beard. They also had heads full of thick dark brown curls, encasing their more youthful faces. Their muscular bodies were also covered by numerous scars, mostly done by their father's spear.

"Look at my poor children. What have you done to them, Ares?"

Phobos and Deimos were the twin children of beauty and war, born out of human's innermost primal instinct: fear. Both godlings owed an undying loyalty to their father, often accompanying him in each of his affairs. Ares walked towards them, inspecting every inch of his two soldiers, who stood there firmly in silence awaiting their father's command.

"I made them into what they're right now. Two war weapons capable of sowing despair out of mortal hearts. And it seems I'll make use of their service once again. I'm going to make use of a couple of tricks you've shown me."

"If you already made your decision, it is useless to remain here and try to convince you otherwise. Just a word of advice Ares, don't let your pride be your downfall once again."

The goddess disappeared then with a flash, leaving Ares and the two godlings alone once again. The god of war then pondered on the goddess's words, wondering if he should change his mind and challenge his father, like many members of his family were going to. He remembered an ancient saying from another mortal cult: pride goes before the fall. But he quickly dismissed any doubt circling his mind. An opportunity to gain Zeus's grace wasn't going to present itself that easily again. It was his chance to demonstrate his superior existence, and take Athena's place right next to their father. His rugged face was drawn with a sinister smile. He was going to reap a human from his sister's flock, proving once and for all who the most powerful warrior of Olympus was.

It was an unusually agitated day for Athens High. The days before summer vacation were always received with enthusiasm by the students, and relief by the faculty members. Colorful school banners announcing the graduation ceremony for the seniors decorated the hallways, proudly signifying another school year's death. Every student was filled to the brim of school spirit, enthusiastically signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and joking with their soon to be former teachers. All except one. Leon Machiavelli sat quietly at his desk, tapping his feet nervously while he waited for the ultimate call for freedom that was the ringing of the bell on the last school day.

High school could be harsh for someone like Leon. The 19-year-old always felt like a fish out of water when it came to socializing with his classmates, most of his time spent on furthering his knowledge and improving his chances of getting into an Ivy League college, finally ridding himself of the shackles that an upbringing in a small rural town in the middle of nowhere could bring. The few friendships he managed to make over the course of his years through school were few and far too insignificant to regret his choice in moving to the other side of the country and never hearing from them again. Not to mention his troubled relationship with his parents, who were concerned by their son's more hermit nature. His family had been living in that town for a few generations, owning some small businesses in the surrounding area and establishing itself as one of the most aristocratic families in the county.

The swan song of the school year chimed in the form of the bell's ring, causing excited screams and cheers from all students. Notebooks were propelled into the air, paper falling everywhere painting the floor with white. Girls exchanged teary hugs, immortalizing their last moments in the classroom with their smartphones and guys hollered and smashed against each other in fraternal hugs. Leon swiftly picked up his backpack and made a beeline towards the exit, already feeling claustrophobic in the middle of the chaos. He made his way through the sea of students, already feeling the scorching hot summer air blowing at his face. When he was just a step away from freedom, he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder pulling him back inside. He turned around with an exasperated look on his face, only to find out the hand belonged to Kevin Volker, the varsity football captain.

"Leon, bro, what's up? I haven't seen you all day."

The relationship between the hunky jock and the hermit bookworm was, to say the least, complicated. Both boys practically grew up together, their families living next to each other and going to the same school from kindergarten all through to high school. Childish wonder pushed them to form a very good friendship in their first years of development. Family barbeques, playdates, camping trips, both boys had all the necessary qualities to become the best of friends. The fact that their parents were also friends and business partners was also a good advantage for them to keep interacting almost like brothers. All their years of primary school were spent joyfully carefree, with both boys enjoying the wonder of practically living together and embarking on whichever childish adventure they wanted.

But things got different once Kevin's biological clock sent him spiraling into puberty. The gorgeous blonde boy became an athletic teenager, and his energetic nature combined with his newly acquired physical prowess turned him into a social sensation in school. The allure of the childish fantasies he used to share with his best friend was slowly replaced by the enjoyment a real-life circle of friends could bring. Kevin naturally went up the ladder of the monstrous social scale that was high school. The sports teams didn't waste any time in hunting him down, but it was the school's most prided one that caught him in the end: the football team. After just four years the cute teen had developed into a strapping young man, with an all-American jock face and a body to die for.

Watching his best friend turn into the king of school wasn't easy for Leon. The slow abandonment combined with his frustrations over his very delayed development slowly bittered him. Instead of growing up big and strong like Kevin, Leon just gained a few inches in height, but a lot of pounds in weight. He resented his friend for getting the attention of their peers and leaving him alone to fuel their fantasy world on his own. He resented his friend for gaining the grace of other students, and soon cut all ties to him. The chubby red-head grew up alone in the darkness of his bedroom, while the blonde stud dwelled in the sunlight. His natural curiosity pushed him into pursuing knowledge, far prioritizing the cultivation of the mind instead of the body. His academic achievements mixed in with his hidden frustrations bred an arrogance delusion. Leon convinced himself that he was too good for other people, shielding himself from the pain of rejection. Completely dismissing any attempt of remaining active took a toll on his body, turning the chubby teen into an overweight young man with a disheveled appearance. Every time he saw Kevin, he remembered their lost childhood and caught a glimpse of his true reality. The muscular jock served as a window of truth in Leon's arrogant delusion: his loneliness was a product of his own doing.

"I was just busy getting my things ready for tomorrow's speech. Can I help you with anything?"

He bitterly stared into the jock's blue eyes and saw exactly the look that he hated. Even though Kevin grew dismissive towards him, he never once participated in the occasional bullying red-head suffered, often offering to help out with whatever he needed. His usual cocky gaze hid a deep-set sympathy for the lonely nerd, and Leon hated that. He didn't need the sympathy of someone he considered inferior.

"No, it's all good thanks. I'm going to drive home first to pick up my gym bag, and I wanted to offer you a ride. It's too fucking hot out there, man,” said Kevin with a burst of awkward laughter. His deep voice vibrated on his chest, which twitched playfully from time to time. Leon scanned his former friend with a resentful gaze. The heavily muscled jock was encased in the trendiest designer clothes, his bulging arms threatening to rip his polo's sleeves apart, and the tree trunks he had for legs wrapped in skin-tight chinos, showcasing the deep definition within the heavy muscles. He tried his best not to stare too much into the body and kept his apathetic frown fixed on his piercing blue eyes.

"Thank you, but I'm gonna take the bus. There's some stuff in town I need to sort out first."

"That's ok, guess I'll see you tomorrow in the graduation ceremony then,” said Kevin with a subdued sigh. Leon turned around without saying anything and headed outside towards the searing sunlight. Even though he kept a straight face during the exchange with his former friend, his fists were clenched due to the anger he felt. Even after all those years, Leon's heart still skipped a beat every time the jock was nearby. No matter how much he tried to deceive himself into thinking he was the superior of the two, he couldn't get rid of the feelings he had for his former friend.

"Congratulations on the valedictorian thing by the way!"

He managed to scream before Leon was outside the door. The chubby red-head barely turned around, and with a weak thanks, he was lost in the blinding light.

The little town's main street was buzzing with activity on the hot summer afternoon. Families paraded themselves on the sidewalk, eating ice cream and letting the kids play on the numerous water fountains around the place. Little restaurants and boutiques decorated the sides of the street, offering a colorful option of both local and imported goods to the town's small population. The Machiavelli family owned many of those businesses and almost every convenience store in town. Leon was heading to the family's favored tailor to meet his mother to get his outfit for the graduation ready. After all, the son of one of the town's most important families couldn't show up in his usual disheveled state to his high school graduation. Leon always thought things like fashion and social status were frivolities, intellectually inferior people used to feel better about themselves, so he gave little importance to them. Even now on the threshold of the rest of his life, he could care less about how he looked, but his mother insisted so much that he gave in to her requests to keep her from nagging him any longer.

The little bell on top of the door chimed in when he entered the door, attracting the attention of his mother, who was enthusiastically discussing ties and bows with the tailor.

"Honey, you made it! Step in front of the mirror please, Mr. Schneider will take your final measurements."

No one would think the chubby teenager was related to the elegant woman standing next to the counter. She looked flawless despite her age and dressed impeccably no matter if she was at a charity ball or going to the supermarket. The only trait that tied both of them to each other was their fiery red hair, which she kept in a perfect updo fully solidifying her upper-class status. Without saying a word, Leon stepped up to the little platform surrounded by three body-sized mirrors. The tailor approached him, fully armed with his measuring tape and a set of pins to hold the seams and folds in place.

"What do you think of this tie honey? I think the green would highlight your…"

The excited chatter of his mother soon faded away, as Leon focused more and more on his reflection of the three pieced mirrors. It looked like puberty forgot about him in the middle of the way. He never really grew that much in height, topping at a shorter 5'5. The prominent curve of his stomach was visible through the simple black t-shirt he was wearing, deforming The legend of Zelda's Triforce symbol together with his sagging chest. His stubby arms laid powerless on his sides, and his chubby legs were hidden under a pair of oversized jeans. His pale freckled face was covered by pimples, accentuating his unclean appearance, and it still sported the signs of infancy he never outgrew, with chubby cheeks and a small nose. The most prominent feature on him was his bright green eyes, courtesy of his mother's Irish heritage, along with his unkempt red curls. He had convinced himself long ago that an unkept body was not a problem as long as the mind flourished, so he gave up on any attempt in bettering his appearance. Dwelling in his thoughts he didn't realize the tailor was done measuring and was discussing the suit's finishing touches with his mother, who didn't wait for her son's approval on the rest of the accessories.

"Is that all mom?"

He asked a bit annoyed whilst grabbing his belongings and heading to the door.

"Yes honey, I'll arrange the rest with Mr. Schneider. You will look so handsome tomorrow. I'll see you at home later."

She answered without even looking at him. Leon sighed and headed outside, not wanting to spend another second thinking in tomorrow's ceremony, and made his way towards his house.

The Machiavelli family's estate consisted of a big two-story house, a big garden with a swimming pool, and a small guest house. There was no doubt that it belonged to very affluent people. The mansion's pearl white walls reflected the afternoon sunlight, almost giving it an incandescent glow. Leon entered through the massive oak doors and headed straight for his room. On his way there he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the massive family portrait in the house's foyer. A younger Leon smiled faintly back at him; his chubby body encased in a black suit just like his father. The elegant man looked imposing with his strong physique and masculine features. The only common thing Leon and his father had was their last name because no one would say the pale red-head was related to the mature Italian stud that was his father. His mom looked perfect as usual, leaving Leon sticking out like a sore thumb between his two impressive progenitors. He tried his best to ignore the picture like he always did and enclosed himself in his private sanctuary.

His room was decorated with posters of antique temples, beautiful palaces, and imposing sculptures. Leon's love for fantasy had slowly driven him into researching the origin of human imagination itself, and therefore human's creative history. His ultimate goal was to become erudite of anthropology, teaching and researching in the most lauded institutions on the field and finally gaining the recognition of better people than the small-town folk he loved to look down upon. He sat down on his desk to revise his prepared speech for the graduation ceremony one last time. Despite his parent's best effort to dissuade him, Leon was willing to perform a bitter soliloquy expressing his frustrations against his classmates and solidifying his status as the class' arrogant intellectual. Beneath the snarky remarks and morality lectures written on paper, laid a profound pain product of his loneliness. His train of thought slowly brought the image of Kevin into his head again. Leon was going to finally be free of watching him blossom more and more every day. But even if he moved across the country, he was still unsure he would ever be able to forget the handsome jock. After all, despite the endless hours he spent convincing himself Kevin abandoned him out of malice, he was the only person Leon ever loved.

The chubby red-head barely gave any thought to his sexuality. He considered any kind of lust as a distraction, a primal burden that impeded the full growth of the human psyche. Unlike practically all of his classmates, he wore his virginity as a badge of honor, his mind completely clean of the stain of sex. But despite trying his best to suppress his natural urges, the thought of Kevin always came through inside his head. The connection they shared when they were children still transcended the barriers Leon tried to put up to elevate himself. And the fact that the handsome jock looked like a classical Greek sculpture come to life didn't help the lascivious thoughts leave the nerd's mind. Leon tried to hate Kevin as much as he could because if he didn't, he would become the ultimate shackles preventing him from breaking free from his small-town life once and for all. The last golden rays of sunset light came into the room through the big windows, illuminating the red-head's face. His gaze was glued to the sheet of paper in front of him. This speech was an ode to intellectual growth, and a farewell to the life Leon chose to leave behind. He went into bed exhausted, nervous about the events coming up the next day. It was going to be the last time Leon Machiavelli graced his classmates with his thoughts. Afterward, the only way they could catch a glimpse of his brilliant mind was either buying his future publications or listening to his TED talks.

It was past midnight when Leon was woken up by a shiver down his spine. The pale moonlight illuminated his bedroom, casting out gruesome shadows out of every corner. The nerd had the feeling something was staring at him from the darkness. The entire room was scorching hot, despite the cold night air flowing through an open window. A low animal growl attracted Leon's attention towards the darkest corner in the bedroom. His face went pale with fear when he discovered the two big glowing red eyes staring at him maliciously. A black figure slowly crept out of the shadows, making itself visible thanks to the white moonlight. Leon stared speechless at the giant black dog growling at him menacingly from the other side of the room. His big snout was curled up into an angry snarl, making the dagger sized fangs visible. The terrified nerd was petrified in his bed, unable to muster the minimal courage to even scream for help. Without taking his eyes off of him, the black dog spoke with a deep man's voice.

"When the time comes, follow me. I will give you what you want"

And as soon as it appeared, it melted into the shadows, leaving the red-head alone to faint out of the fear he just experienced.

  The golden rays of sunlight in the late morning woke Leon up, who groggily rubbed his eyes and got up. Despite sleeping through the night, he felt exhausted. He was unsure if what he saw in the darkness had been real or just a product of the stress before graduation. He looked at the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he had slept through his alarm and was already running late.

"Damn it"

He yelled exasperated as he jumped out of bed to get ready for his ceremony. He splashed some water face and combed his red curls a little bit just to hide the mark the pillow had left on his head. One of the maids brought up the finished suit his mother had bought the previous day. It was a beautiful dark grey suit, Italian cut, with an emerald green tie and a handkerchief to match. He quickly put it on, feeling it snug against his body. Despite the suit being tailored to his exact fit, the outward curve of his prominent stomach was still visible, putting a slight strain on the buttons. The emerald green tie did highlight his eyes, just like his mother told him before buying it. He took the cards for his upcoming speech and made sure he had everything ready for the ceremony. On his way out, he looked at his reflection on the big mirror in the hallway. Even after neglecting his appearance today, the beauty of the suit made him look almost distinguished. He felt strong, ready to sever his ties to this town and his past. It was going to be a memorable day, marking the beginning of his new life.

He arrived at the ground floor of the mansion, only to find it empty. A small note was laying on top of the little table next to the entrance.

"Your father and I went to the club for a quick workout. We'll see you later at school. Tell Charlie to drive you there if you don't want to take one of the cars."

He crushed the little note on his hands, feeling a pang of pain due to his parents' absence. It wasn't unusual for his mother to delegate accompanying him to the chauffeur, but Leon thought the day of his high school graduation was going to be different. He quickly dismissed any sorrow from his head, replacing it with a fiery determination. His speech today was also inspired by his aloof parents, who barely gave their only son a second thought. He looked at the big family portrait one last time. With this suit, he might have looked a bit like he belonged, but he knew the truth. His destiny was far away from this little town, which was below his expectations.

The school was buzzing with activity, with teachers running everywhere getting every last detail prepared, and students getting their graduation robes ready for the ceremony. Colorful banners decorated the main courtyard, where a scenario with a podium and a line of seats was built. The many rows of chairs in front of it were already filling themselves up with enthusiastic families, readying their cameras for their children's special moments. Leon scoffed at the scene, thinking how sad it was that this was going to be the only highlight in their offspring's life. He picked up his robe and valedictorian sash and headed towards his seat. In the distance, he saw Kevin arrive with both of his parents. The gorgeous stud was impeccably dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue suit. Every muscle was perfectly framed and enveloped in the expensive fabric, accentuating the dramatic angles his body formed. His dirty blond hair was perfectly styled in his usual messy style, and his white smile beamed stronger than the sun itself. Leon couldn't take his eyes off from his former friend, making an inhumane effort to remain focused on his goal. This day was going to be about him for the first time, not about Kevin.

The ceremony began after all the attendants took their seats, with the principal opening the day with a generic speech about school spirit and class fraternity. Leon fiddled with his cards nervously, the pressure of his big moment slowly starting to overcome him. He couldn't help but ask himself if he was willing to pull through it. After all, his classmates were still people deserving of respect, even if he considered them intellectually inferior. But then the memory of Kevin laughing with all of them, sharing the fabled fraternal bond the principal was talking about, and excluding Leon from their circle solidified his decision. The words he was going to say could be harsh, but it was something he felt entitled to share.

"And now, please welcome the Athens High class of 2019 valedictorian, Leon Machiavelli."

The sound of the applause woke Leon up from his daze, as he stood up and made his way to the podium. All the eyes in the audience were for the first time focused on him. The scorching sunlight made him feel a little light-headed, his hair matted with sweat, and his body sticking uncomfortably to his suit. He looked at the seats below him, squinting his eyes due to the sun's intense shine. All of the chairs were occupied, except two, very close to the front rows. Leon let out a sorrowful sigh, the last ember of hope of sharing this moment with his parents dying. He put his cards down, took a big breath, and started speaking.

"My fellow students of Athens High. The promised day is finally upon us, the day when we will finally take flight and begin the rest of our lives. Most of you don't even know who I am, but after today you will never forget my name. When I was writing this speech, I couldn't help but notice a few ironic facts that I would like to share with you. It is fitting that our school mascot is an owl because that is how I've felt all these years. I've dedicated countless hours to quietly observing your behavior, your desires, and every intricate social structure in our school, and I can't help but feel immense gratitude. Thanks to all of you, I've blossomed into the epitome of human intelligence and wisdom that I am today. And let me tell you why. After a long analysis, I've come up with the conclusion that my greatest fear is becoming as simple as one of you…."

Something beyond the sun's glare caught his attention. At first, he thought it might be a mirage caused by the burning heat, but the more he focused on it, the clearer it became. A shadow beneath a far tree looked eerily familiar. Leon's hands started to tremble in fear, as he recognized the black dog from last night staring at him from the distance, its glowing red eyes visible through the blinding sunlight. His entire speech suddenly vanished from his mind, together with the fleeting empowerment he was feeling moments ago. He fumbled nervously with the cards, only to drop them by accident.

"You….uh…..I…"

The echoes of his nervous words coming from the speakers resonated through the courtyard. Curious eyes focused on Leon, who quickly turned into a sweaty mess. He looked at Kevin in the front row, who had a worried look on his face. He felt a shame he had never felt before. Being humiliated in front of half the town was the last thing Leon wanted. He searched for the dog again, only for it to vanish without a trace. He looked at the public in defeat and managed to scavenge some last words to minimize the embarrassment.

"I want to thank you all for coming. Enjoy the rest of the ceremony."

With those last words, Leon left the podium and sank into his seat, wishing for the earth to swallow him. The principal took the microphone again and followed through with the protocol.

"Thank you, Leon, for those, uh, inspiring words. And now, we will present the students with their diplomas."

Leon sat in his place quietly, staring at the green grass. In his mind, the only thing that was present was the horrible feeling of embarrassment. Everything he had planned; all the preparation and previous excitement had been for nothing. The muffled sound of pomp and circumstance blasting out of the speakers was all he could hear, as the principal went through the line of students calling each of them to the podium and shaking hands with them. One face still stood out from the rest: Kevin's. One thing was failing in front of his classmates, but failing in the presence of the person he wanted to impress the most made everything worse. Now Kevin would never find out how well-off Leon thought he was despite being abandoned by the handsome jock. Somewhere inside the cacophony governing the courtyard, he heard his name, and without taking his gaze off the ground he stood up and picked up his diploma. He gave the principal a weak handshake and quickly slid back into his chair. This moment was indeed immortalized in his mind, but not in the way he intended.

Once all students got their respective acknowledgments, the ceremony ended with Oxford caps decorating the sky accompanied by deafening applause. Families reunited in the whole courtyard, hugging and blasting pictures everywhere. Leon was still in his seat when he saw both his parents approaching him.

"Honey, sorry we're late. How was your speech,” asked his mother without any hint of remorse in her voice. Leon was used to being left behind by his family, but this time he felt actual pain. If his parents were there, the only people with whom he shared some kind of superficial connection, he wouldn't have felt so helpless in the aftermath of his speech debacle. He looked up at his parents with cold wrath in his eyes, tears starting to slowly well up inside them.

"I don't ask much of you. I don't mind when you hide me at your parties, or when you go on extravagant trips without me. I just asked for your presence for one day. One day."

His reproaches were met by the unchanging poised faces of his progenitors. His mother was the first one to speak.

"Honey, not here. People are looking,” She said with a simulated smile.

"I don't care about your deluded picture of perfection, mother. You ruined the last time we were going to connect as a family. And for what? A sauna bath in your pretentious club."

His father's petrified face showed a glimpse of anger. The Machiavelli patriarch had never been very fond of his only child, considering him a nuisance and a liability for their public image. Leon just didn't fit well as the heir of the family's fortune, completely lacking charisma and skill to lead. In his eyes, the only thing his son did was cower behind his infinite collection of books in his room.

"Quit whining, Leon. You should be thankful your mother and I made time to come and congratulate you. Now, let's take a picture. We will discuss this back at home."

Leon's last hope of acceptance from his family died as soon as the flash from the camera was gone, his young heart completely overtaken by the coldness of rejection. His aloof parents then proceeded to greet the rest of the attendants. The young nerd felt completely lost inside the crowd. All he wanted to do was to get back home, pack his bags and leave on the next bus out of town. While he was analyzing the best way to scurry out of there, a sapphire flash caught his attention. He then looked towards it, only to find out the colorful splash of light came from Kevin, who was heading into the school through a side entrance. At first, he didn't pay too much attention to it, but then he saw the black dog from earlier following the handsome jock. After some consideration, Leon managed to conjure the courage to follow Kevin into the building, worried about what that black creature could do to his former friend. He pushed the door and entered the school's auditorium, only to find it dark and empty. The light to the locker rooms was on, so he made his way through the big hall towards it.

"Kevin? Are you in here?"

His nervous voice echoed through the rows of metal lockers. The air in the room felt damp and heavy, the lingering musky smell of sweaty athletes permanently staining the atmosphere. Something else was mixed in the aromas, a metallic scent, like rusted metal. He hesitantly stepped further into the locker room, his only companion being the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor. The cold lights flickered from time to time, giving the entire scene a very ominous appearance. He turned around the corner and finally found Kevin in front of the sinks. He was staring emptily into the mirror, completely unaware of Leon's presence. The young nerd was terrified but kept approaching the young jock.

"Hey Kevin, are you alright?"

He said as he put a sweaty hand on Kevin's shoulder. He was able to perceive a red flicker on the jock's icy blue eyes, and then Kevin reacted to his touch.

"Leon, what's up? You look scared bro, are you alright?"

He said casually beaming his celebrity smile towards Leon, who just stared completely puzzled at the handsome jock.

"I saw a black dog follow you into the auditorium. Have you seen it?"

"Black dog? Bro, I really think the heat has started to affect you. I just came inside to freshen up a bit, but I haven't seen any black dog."

"But I swear I saw it come inside, I was a bit concerned it would attack you or anything. That thing has been roaming around school premises since the ceremony. I saw it during my...."

He made a pause, remembering the events that had just taken place moments before during the ceremony. The rage product of his humiliation returned to him.

"During my speech. Never mind, I can't say I'm surprised you're unable to notice even the most obvious things."

Kevin's smile faded from his face, his gorgeous gaze gaining the depth that bothered Leon so much because it made him care for a person he had convinced himself was below him.

"Leon, bro, I know things haven't been okay between us for a while. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad or something. I was just going with the flow, I never intended to hurt you. But I can't keep myself away anymore. If today is about a cycle, then there is something I need to set straight between us."

Leon's cold gaze lightened up a bit, curious about what he was talking about. He had never seen Kevin this nervous before. The young jock stared at the floor and fiddled nervously with his hands. The words came out a bit forced out of his mouth like someone was making him recite a memorized confession.

"I need to tell you something, but not here. Come to my place tonight for the party. Everyone will be there."

"I don't know Kevin. Parties aren't really my cup of tea…."

The handsome jock put his strong hand on Leon's shoulder and gave him a mischievous smile that not even the nerd's toughest defenses could resist.

"I promise to make it worth your while."

Leon hesitated for a second, completely incredulous for what he was hearing. He had already decided not to go to the party, but the day was not going according to plan. He could feel his heart beating almost out of his chest, excited and intrigued for whatever the jock was going to tell him.

"Sure, I'll see you there."

An eerie spark lit up behind Kevin's blue eyes, but Leon was so dumbstruck he completely missed it.

"Sweet bro, I'll see you later then. Nice clothes by the way."

Kevin then pulled the smaller man up for a hug, smothering him with his strong body. Leon could feel the hardness of his muscles through the expensive blue fabric. The jock then made his way towards the exit, leaving Leon in a disoriented haze. For a moment he completely forgot about the gruesome black dog and his failed speech, all he could see in his mind was Kevin's gorgeous smile.

  The sun was already setting when Leon arrived at the Volker residence. Many groups of his fellow students were approaching the mansion through the extensive courtyard, already with some drinks on their hands. The young nerd hesitated, his social anxiety crippling him for a moment. He still despised the rest of his class and saw no point in trying to interact with them. If he was going to this party, it was for Kevin only. Maybe something good would come out of this terrible day after all. When he crossed through the house's massive portal, he was immediately assaulted by an explosion of light and sound completely overwhelming his senses. A sea of young adults covered the big parlor and the adjacent rooms, drinking and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The big chandelier hanging from the ceiling was adapted to flash beams of light of different colors in all directions, and a DJ booth was installed on the far end of the formal living room, blasting some modern music Leon couldn't recognize. He was an absolute amateur when it came to partying, so he felt lost and scared inside the crowd. He tried looking for Kevin everywhere, but due to his short height, he wasn't able to look past a few heads before him.

Leon approached the drinking table and ordered a soda. He tried to find a quiet corner to drink in peace before resuming his search for his former friend, but everywhere he looked was swarmed by the inebriated guests. He was quickly losing his patience, as he was pushed around by the dancing crowd over and over again. Somehow, he found his way to the big spiral staircase leading to the upper floors and jumping over the barrier to keep attendants on the ground floor, he quickly went up a few steps to get a better overview. Despite gaining the higher ground, his attempts in finding his friend proved unsuccessful. He was about to give up and head back home defeated when something caught his attention through the mahogany banister. The monstrous-looking black dog was staring at him from above, its glowing red eyes visible despite the chaotic party atmosphere. After making sure the nerd saw it, it walked further up the stairs into the second floor.

Leon remembered what the beast had told him the night before, and followed it into the higher level of the mansion. Once he made it to the upper floor, he saw the dog walking through a long hallway and entering the furthest room. The young nerd continued his pursuit and found himself in what he assumed was Kevin's room. The lavish bedroom was decorated with all sorts of trophies and medals, as well as an entertainment system appropriate for an active teenager. Leon's attention was drawn to the row of portraits on the big bookshelf. Pictures of young Kevin in all sorts of family trips and sports events were displayed in delicate frames. One picture, in particular, stood out from the rest. Leon couldn't believe his eyes as he took the silver frame in his hands and stared at the photograph. A young Kevin had his arm wrapped around a young Leon, both sitting on top of a rock next to a river. They were laughing, radiating genuine happiness through the picture. Leon couldn't believe that after all those years, Kevin kept memories from their childhood so close to him. The young man the nerd considered his bitter rival and enemy never antagonized him.

The big glass door to the balcony opened suddenly, letting a warm gust of wind into the room. Leon put the picture back in its place and headed outside. The stunning twilight sky was painted in different shades of red, showering the scenery with crimson rays of light. The hot summer breeze rustled the leaves on the trees surrounding the properties, producing a serene sound that drowned the music from downstairs. The nerd stepped on the balcony, and finally found what he was looking for. Kevin was standing on the edge of the marble banister, watching the beautiful sunset.

"Kevin?"

The handsome jock turned around to face Leon. The only thing the young nerd could see were the icy blue eyes inside his former friend's shadow, his silhouette completely encased in a red halo product of the dying sunset.

"I knew you would come. Come here, I want you to look at this."

Leon stepped forward, taking place right next to the handsome jock. Kevin flashed his regular charming smile at the nerd, who instantly turned red as a beet. For an instant, he was thankful for this unusually bright sunset that hid the blush on his cheeks.

"I wanted this evening to go perfectly. And now that you're here it's finally complete."

"Just tell me what you want Kevin. We haven't talked in years and suddenly you take interest in me. I just want to know why."

Kevin diverted his gaze into the sunset, suddenly turning serious. Leon could see the distress in his eyes.

"I never lost interest in you Leon. It was you who pushed me away. You were the one that decided to stop hanging out with me."

Leon clenched his fists in anger, the painful memories of his friend exchanging him for more popular friends still poisoning his mind.

"How dare you say that! You were the one that went away, that grew into…."

He made a nervous pause, uncertain about what he was about to say. The wrath inside of him made him spill out the words without thinking.

"Into a mindless meathead. Look at us, Kevin. Your physical prowess is unparalleled, that's a fact. But I got what truly matters: a brilliant mind. I have preserved my psyche in the best way possible. I've resisted the allure of petty teenage necessities. And now, I'm in the way of becoming one of the most brilliant thinkers in recent years!"

Kevin turned around to face the angry nerd, who was on the brink of tears due to the pent-up rage he was feeling.

"Is that what you truly want bro? It sounds very lonely to me."

"I don't need anyone. Soon, I'll be where I'm supposed to. I don't mind being alone."

Kevin grabbed Leon's arm, pulling him closer. The nerd could feel the intense heat radiating from the hunk's body. He stared directly into his former friend's blue eyes.

"Are you sure you want to be alone? I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I got all the attention I want, from anyone. When you look like me, it's an easy task."

He said flexing his meaty arm, straining the soft blue fabric on the sleeves of his suit. Leon couldn't take his eyes off of Kevin's body, completely mesmerized by the jock's posing show. He failed to notice his friend's eyes shining in a dark red shade from time to time. The jock's voice turned from warm and concerned, into cold and aggressive.

"No matter how much you lie to yourself Leon, you want to be like me. To finally be accepted by everyone, including your parents. Picture it for a second. Finally, be worthy of being called your father's son. What use is your intelligence to the Machiavelli family, when you lack the courage to destroy your fears? Truth is, you're no more than a resentful dweeb."

Kevin continued flexing, taking off his suit's jacket, his movements starting to take on a seductive flair.

"Stop it. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know. I know everything about you bro, including your darkest secret."

Leon suddenly opened his eyes like plates, completely incredulous for what was coming out of the jock's mouth. It was impossible anyone knew how he felt about Kevin, he didn't tell anyone. Kevin smiled with a hint of malice, knowing he had Leon right where he wanted him. His blue eyes now shone in a permanent crimson hue.

"That's right, I know that you like me. Your mind is indeed a complex maze, but no psyche cannot be cracked open. I could feel the fear of being discovered practically pouring out of your pores."

Leon looked down in defeat, feeling the embarrassment bubble out of him. He knew this was too good to be true. Kevin approached Leon once again, taking his chubby face with his hands and pulling it up to face him. The nerd's green eyes were pooled with tears.

"There's no reason to be miserable. The reason I called you here tonight was to tell you I feel the same way about you."

Leon couldn't help but open his mouth incredulously, his mind still registering the words that just came out of the jock's mouth.

"Wha—what?"

"I've also never connected with anyone the way I connected with you. You know the real me, buried beneath this sculptural body. That means I also know the real you. You don't have to be alone."

The young nerd's sad frown slowly turned into a smile. His face was inches away from his friend's, feeling the jock's hot breath on his skin. And then he smelled it. The same metallic smelled he caught in the locker room back at school, only this time it was much more intense. He also took notice of Kevin's glowing red eyes.

"Wait, this is not right. What's happened to you?"

Kevin's grip on Leon's face tightened, his face gaining a sinister flair.

"I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. The question here is: are you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you who you are supposed to be? I know the real you is buried beneath this intellectual façade. We just gotta pull him out."

Kevin started caressing Leon's overweight body, rubbing his torso over the suit's jacket. The young nerd was giving in to the moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of his friend's strong hands on his body. One last glimmer of resistance made him suddenly pull away.

"No. I don't want this. I'm above these carnal sensations. I've never done anything with anyone."

Kevin smiled, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing the ripped divide of his upper chest.

"I know you're a virgin, I don't have any problems with that."

"But I do. I don't want it to be this way. If it ever comes to it, I want it to be special."

Kevin's confident smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a displeased scowl.

"Look at this Leon. The sunset, the balcony, the hot summer air. You said it yourself, this is the end of one phase of our lives. Isn't this special enough for you?"

"I don't know Kevin; this doesn't feel right."

"Look, it's very simple. I want to be with you, and I know you want to be with me. I just need you to renounce this ridiculous virtuous perception of your virginity. Give in to your flesh, and your body will become what you truly desire."

"My body is okay as it is."

Said Leon embarrassed by the remark of the increasingly impatient jock.

"You know it isn't. All these years you have deceived yourself in thinking you value the brilliance of your mind when in reality it's what has alienated you from everyone. Relinquish that notion, and you shall have everything you desire."

The nerd looked at his friend nervously, completely unsure about what he wanted. He thought he was sure about who he was, but what Kevin said was true. What's the point of intelligence if all you need to be accepted is purely physical? Was brilliant wisdom worth the loneliness? While Leon dwelled in his thoughts, a shadow materialized on the corner behind him. What first looked like a black dog slowly grew into a human form, taking the appearance of an extremely muscular young man, his body full of scars. He planted his crimson red eyes on Kevin, who nodded in agreement as his face grew more sinister.

"I'll make it easy for you. Kiss me. If you do, I'll know you're ready to take the next step and leave your old self behind. You'll finally be better than anyone else, just like you wish. Be warned though, there will be no turning back."

Leon was then assaulted by all the painful memories of his past. The loneliness of growing up as an outcast, the abandonment of his parents, and the disconnection from everything and everyone started crushing him. He had an opportunity to have what he truly wanted, not what he convinced himself he wanted. Hypnotized by the jock's supernatural gaze, he approached his friend with determination. Standing on the tip of his feet, he placed his lips on his. Black smoke started enveloping them, completely encasing the entire balcony and isolating it from the world. Leon felt butterflies in his stomach, as the kiss continued to gain intensity. A scorching hot feeling started seeping into his being, product of Kevin's mouth. When he realized what he had done, it was too late. He was completely under the control of the handsome jock, who started to take on a dominant role, aggressively pushing his tongue into the nerd's mouth. The last thing he consciously realized was what that taste in Kevin's mouth was: blood.

Energy started seeping into Leon's body, slowly impregnating his being. He was lost in the intense feeling his connection with Kevin was causing. The waves of power-hitting his body started making his blood boil, turning his body into an incandescent mass. He was sweating profusely, as the energy coursing through his veins unleashed different chain reactions in his cells, resulting in a vastly increased metabolic rate. The fatty deposits inside of him started to melt away, vaporized to fuel the nerd's body's incredible energy demand. His pants fell, as the rest of the suit started to hang loosely from his body. The formerly chubby red-head was left practically only in skin and bones. Kevin broke the kiss and looked at what his friend had become. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, and his formerly round face was left looking severely malnourished. He smiled victorious, knowing the spell was doing its job. He needed the man in the back to complete the transference, so he called him forward to participate in the passionate scene.

Kevin took his finger, rubbing it on his friend's lips seductively, as the muscular man in the back slowly pushed down the shoulders of the now skinny nerd to the ground. In one swift motion, the handsome jock ripped his pants off his legs, exposing a menacing bulge that was quickly gaining size in front of Leon's entranced gaze.

"Is this what you wanted? To serve and pleasure me?"

Asked Kevin dominantly, looking down at his friend. Even though Leon was still watching everything going on, the sensations in his body were driving him like an automaton. A part of his consciousness still resisted, yelling desperately that he was better than what he was becoming, but it was slowly getting smaller as if it were burned away by the divine energy coursing through his veins. He answered in a stupefied voice, unable to resist the temptation

"Yes."

"Wrong answer."

Said Kevin fishing out his manhood from his briefs and putting it on the nerd's open mouth. The same metallic taste accompanied by other muskier aromas immediately assaulted Leon's senses. He licked and tasted the meaty tube inside of him, desperately worshipping it with his tongue. The scarred man behind him then pushed his head further into the jock's crotch, making him swallow the entire seven thick inches at once. Kevin then proceeded to drill inside his friend's mouth with aggressive thrusts back and forth. Each time the phallus penetrated the nerd's mouth, the pressure inside of him caused his bones to elongate. Each limb stretched several inches, along with his spine, leaving the nerd with over a foot and a half extra height. The hands holding the jock's legs cracked and grew, along with his formerly small feet. Once his skeleton stopped breaking, the scarred man pulled Leon to his feet, his pants staying on the floor. There was a fight between bliss and misery inside of him, causing a blast of emotions that quickly flooded his head. It was like his mind was inside a pressurized pot ready to explode.

"You are the one that has to be served and pleasured. You have to conquer fear."

Kevin lifted the now taller red-head with supernatural strength and flipped him around, exposing his naked rear. Leon fell forward, grabbing on to the scarred man to remain on his feet, and felt the scorching hot head of his friend's member rub menacingly on his crack. He desired him more than anything in the world, his carnal passion completely overtaking his puritanical nature.

"Once we finally break your mind, you'll be able to become the god you were chosen to be."

And with those last words, Kevin impaled his friend mercilessly, getting one last howl of agony out of the nerd. Leon felt as if a dam had broken inside his head, flooding his mind and washing his old self away. Kevin's thrusts started pumping more divine energy into the red-head, which traveled inside his body filling out his newfound emptiness. Pure pleasure caused him to moan loudly. His blood pumped new power into his whole body, causing his muscles to twitch and ripple responding to the strength. His glutes were the first part of his body to expand. The handsome jock's phallus was quickly being swallowed further by two inflating globes of muscle. It looked like he was humping a pair of overgrown watermelons. The growth spread down his legs, filling out his quads and hamstrings with thick columns of muscle, growing as thick as two oak trees. Deep cuts were etched painfully on them, the skin stretched to its limits over the massive muscles. His calves grew to match the upper legs, gaining enough size to rival a football. His feet expanded to accommodate the still coming weight.

The pumped energy seeped simultaneously into his core muscles. Veins started gaining thickness the more power flowed in them, changing the muscle underneath. His lower back took the form of a large spearhead, two pillars of muscle slowly crawling up his back. His lower abs popped into existence, framed by two increasingly large obliques. First two, then four, then six, and ending in eight grenade-sized bumps on his stomach. The muscular pillars on his back started flaring like two flags, spreading growth into the red-head's lat muscles. The suit's jacket couldn't resist the growth for long, shredding itself to pieces revealing the sweaty skin underneath. Kevin grabbed the growing back with lust, feeling the searing hot muscle underneath move and inflate. The man's lats spread wide like a fighter plane, the muscle fibers fighting to fit into the already large frame. Mountains and valleys decorated the expanse of the magnificent back before the thrusting jock.

His chest was the next to grow as if gravity was pulling the muscle downwards. Two massive slabs of flesh etched themselves in Leon's upper torso, increasing his weight and making him widen his stance to find his new balance. The inflating pecs rose higher too like they were trying to reach his chin, while the lower parts expanded themselves reaching the limit of the red-head's anatomy. Once the veins reached his shoulders, these exploded in growth, reaching the size of an ancient Grecian helmet. Divine blood pumped into his arms, his biceps swelling to the size of big cannonballs. His triceps expanded underneath his arms, quickly adding girth to the now powerful limbs, reaching the size of a Howitzer cannon. His lower arms etched themselves with strong sinews, growing as wide as baseball bats. His hands hardened and swelled with new strength, gaining the power to crush the hardest skull with ease.

Thick veins traveled up his neck, followed by thick muscle cords making it seem more like a bull's neck than a human's. Once his Adam's apple finished its transformation, his high moans of pleasure slowly turned into a low manly grunt. Muscle piled into the squaring jaw, giving him a cartoonishly hyper-masculine look. His cheekbones rose higher, and his nose grew and broke, filling in with thick tissue. His forehead expanded further, hooding his eyes and giving him a menacing look. Kevin accelerated the rhythm, reaching the mortal limits of his body.

"Taste true power brother, and take your place above those beings you always deemed inferior."

With one final thrust, he emptied his burning load into the titan in front of him. The divine seed seeped into every tissue, making his body gain even more thickness than before. The muscles gained the strength and prowess of the best warrior the world had ever seen. The essence then corrupted what was left of his being, turning him into a new deity. Blood flowed out of his pupils, forever turning the former green eyes to an intense crimson hue. A new personality engraved itself in his head, growing increasingly aggressive the more he became aware of his existence. His puritanical nature was replaced with an insatiable lust for flesh, either in sex or in battle. His enviable knowledge was replaced by a killer instinct that made him a fearsome foe for whoever was misfortunate enough to challenge him. Eons of battle techniques and combat prowess flourished inside of him, aging him into a man in his masculine prime. The former erudite was reborn in the form of the fiercest warrior in the world. And as such, his nature turned dominant, making him displeased about the situation he was in. He stood up, now much larger than the two other men next to him.

"That's more like it,” He said in a deep voice, flexing his new muscles. Kevin and the other man stared triumphantly at their creation, watching the giant relish in his raw strength. They both felt a psychic bond form with the titan, now that he gained dominion over them. The former Leon turned to face them, his glowing red eyes staring at the scarred man with lust.

"I'm still not quite there yet. Come, brother. It's your time to serve me."

He pushed the muscular man on the banister and grabbed his own still tiny penis. He could barely hold it with his massive hands, the 4 inches stuck out barely enough for his fingers to grab. With inhuman strength he pulled the muscular man's ass apart, exposing the coveted goal for his manhood. He managed to penetrate the scarred man, and another wave of pleasure assaulted him, making him roar in bliss. He started thrusting into the man with such force it started cracking the solid banister underneath. The lesser deity moaned delighted, as he felt the member inside of him grow further, pushing deeper into his body. The titan's phallus grew to heroic proportions, gaining almost 8 inches in length and resembling a thick torpedo. The balls slapping the man's muscular thighs expanded as well, dropping lower to bovine proportions. New hormones started pumping into the giant, altering its appearance even further. Kevin watched smiling as his red curls receded a bit on his head and turned pitch black, along with his eyebrows, which grew thick and arched themselves upwards. His face started taking on a more exotic look, his lips thickening and his nose growing a bit more. The black bubble around the fornicating gods started breaking, dark smoke seeping into every pore of the giant. His pale skin darkened to a light brown, and dark follicles started popping out of his entire body. His manly jaw was quickly covered by a shadow, which grew into a magnificent black beard. The hair was so thick the skin underneath was not visible. A carpet of black hair covered his body, growing thicker on his crotch and under his arms. He kept thrusting with increased fury, feeling his own divine seed churn in his balls. He was drenched in sweat, a manly aroma quickly surrounding him. He smelled like old iron, like burnt gunpowder, like a warrior in his prime. With a powerful roar, he exploded inside the scarred man, fully cementing his new birth as Assad, the king of war.

The scarred man dropped to the ground completely exhausted, leaving Assad standing naked under the crepuscular sky. The jock scanned the titan from top to bottom, savoring every aspect of the new god before him. Assad barely gave him a second look, his old knowledge and memories gone.

"Father will be very pleased."

"Indeed I am."

A bone-chilling voice came out of the shadows in front of them. Assad watched as the god of war emerged from the darkness in his full glory. Ares rarely smiled, but he couldn't help to curl his lips up a little bit once he saw his sons' creation. He was right in delegating his power and the transference to them. Assad immediately fell on one knee, bowing respectfully before his master.

"You bred it into a full warrior, well done."

Kevin just smiled solemnly, accepting the god's compliments. Ares suspected the chosen one had to renounce voluntarily to his virtue to achieve its fullest potential. That is why he let the natural lust do his task for him. He provided the essence; the rest came from the new champion.

"Ready to serve milord.” Said Assad without lifting his gaze.

"And you will. I gave you a new life as a descendant of humanity's most powerful warriors, and in exchange, I own you now. There's something I need you to do. If you succeed, you will be allowed to take a place next to me as a worthy god. I want you to destroy the goddess Athena."

Ares then took his spear and cut his arm open. Ichor fell to the ground, taking the shape of a golden sword. Assad took the weapon in his hand, feeling its power course through him. A shining bronze armor formed around his torso, along with a helmet and a red cape. Ares was satisfied by the look of his new pawn.

"Meet me in Greece, by the feet of Mount Olympus the night of the next full moon."

"Yes, milord. I won't fail you."

With a powerful kick of his legs, the giant leaped into the sky, disappearing in the red horizon. Ares approached the banister and stood next to his sons, watching his creation advance towards his destiny.

"You can get off that meat suit now, Phobos."

Kevin's face produced one last sinister smile, as a dark shadow stepped out of him, his body falling to the ground completely unconscious. The black mass took the form of another overly muscular scared man, identical to the one still laying on the ground.

"This was way too easy, father."

"Don't be arrogant. Influencing a mortal's free will is no easy task. It's different than just persuading them with fear, as you might know."

"I didn't have to do much. This mortal in particular had very strong feelings for the champion. I just had to break his self-control barrier a bit. And I admit I let him feel some of the pleasure too, although I'm sure Deimos there had way more enjoyment."

Ares stood silently staring into the sunset. He made sure he created the best warrior of them all. He proved that the virtues so dearly preached by his stuck-up sister were vulnerable to his raw strength. He chose to let the champion be corrupted by his own desire. This was going to be his opportunity to eclipse his siblings and get his father's acceptance. He looked at his son, able to see the beauty underneath the godling's intimidating appearance. Aphrodite's image came back to him, remembering the unbreakable bond both gods possessed. He wondered if she would be capable of moving against Zeus. The goddess of beauty was not to be underestimated, so Ares spared no effort in creating the best Champion he could to compete.

"So, you interfered with the mortal's love interest. Your mother wouldn't approve."

[thequibblah]

directors cut for WTRF? 🥺👉👈 not biased at all obviously just objective third party asking for a directors cut hmmm hmmmmm

literally how could u do this every other word in that fic is an easter egg i can't shut up about..... bestie u are about to have regrets

one thing u should know is that 90% of things in this fic have real-world equivalents and its not even like....... hidden equivalents. serie primo = serie a, for instance. this trend is going to continue and i won't apologise <3

fun fact i named the bar the Bar and the drinks after shapes because i was too lazy to come up with something actually clever

this bit

I’m grinning to myself by the time she approaches my table.

was a very intentional fakeout and if you read this and thought "she" would be lily, feel free to sue me for emotional damages

the biggest conundrum of this AU was, how are jily not going to have met in school when magic exists? the solution was, of course, having multiple magic schools. but i couldn't let one of them have hogwarts, that didn't seem fair. i know i did sort of let lily have it..... but i felt more comfortable making hogwarts a university so there was a legit reason why james wasn't there and in gryffindor (if he'd gone he absolutely would have been)

once solved, i did the fun thing of naming them! ottaline gambol's was easy, i just scrolled through the list of ministers for magic and picked a progressive one. peverell hall was a whim, made all the funnier when lily's reaction is:

Much was made at Otty’s — one of the more progressive magical schools, named for one of the more progressive Ministers of Magic — of schools like Peverell Hall and St. George’s. The latter, I know, is chock-full of pureblooded elite. Peverell Hall is supposed to be slightly better, but still.

dang, it's gonna be funny if she ever finds out james is a descendant of the guy it's named after

fun fact, i included this because peter's question was a real thought i had when reading bond and free, your inspiring writing knows no limits:

The first thing you conjure in Walking Wombat is a yellow quill... “Why yellow?” Peter asked. Eddie gave him a strange look. “Why not?”

i realised i'd put jily in the same conundrum they had in tis the fucking season here:

It’s only then that I remember she’s just bought us drinks. I turn back to my triangle. “Oh, shit.” I suppose I can pawn it off on one of the others.

...but of course the resolution is rather different, and i do so enjoy a james with no filter (aka default james)

I briefly lose control of my brain and my tongue. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with you?”

by the way, no-filter james will be a theme. wild things sure do run fast but not as fast as this boy runs his mouth!

also, another interesting challenge here was making sure james has a reason to be the way he is in AU. i love playing around with james's childhood/background and seeing how that affects his character while (hopefully!) staying true to who he is. i did that in ttfs by having him move around a lot and not meet the marauders until after the flashback timeline, which is why he's less of a git — he doesn't have the level of comfort in a social setting that canon james has with hogwarts, which is basically his playground from day 2 of first year lol

here, james was probably a fkn nightmare all through school, but of course he gets a big ego check when his quidditch career is derailed. i imagine his years in italy as a continuation of that humility lesson.

I will fully admit I used to be a cocky prick. This is what comes of being a kid who grew up with everything. But one useful thing that the whole fiasco four years ago taught me is humility. I’ve learned how to ask nicely for another chance.

and so much of writing him in wtrf is juggling that typical confidence with the insecurity/fear of losing something he's invested so much in (and has seen slip away before). it's really new to me, because typically i give lily uncertain life circumstances, but i suppose it's both of them in this AU.

the car thing was... i swear didn't start out as smutty, it was purely because i wanted a way to establish lily as muggleborn in a world where the connotations of not having magical parents is very different. more to come on that!

also, come to think of it, by this metric...

I’m now in dangerous territory, since that adds another impressive action to her running tally.

...i think james is already in love with her LOL

this bit:

The street is considered indecent and the downstairs hallway would have our landlady come running at once, so if it pleases Your Honour, we would recommend the sitting room sofa.

...was actually because in draft one lily was a lawyer, but then it was funny enough that i didn't want to take it out, but NOW i realise it makes it sound a little like she's addressing james as your honour, which.... hm. but anyway, we move on

Marc Bolan begs us to get it on through the stereo, vocalising my thoughts exactly.

the song here was initially "you shook me" (h/t @keepingupwithpotters) but i chickened out because zeppelin is SO horny dfjkhgkjs

also, it gave me so much joy to read everyone reacting to lily thinking about her ex (the general vibe was "who the fuck is this guy!!! ew!!!!") — rest assured (or, unassured??) that he has a part to play in all this. anyway, this is one of my fave lines:

He’s just a person, and there’s such a relief in sleeping with James and not the myth of a guy.

because as any come together reader knows....

Just James. Just James. It was never just James.

wtrf lily will learn!

literally the whole world knows i'm obsessed with needle drops that have no subtlety at all, but this one...

We just laugh, tangled together in a sweaty heap, as “Heaven Is in the Back Seat of My Cadillac” plays through the car’s speakers. “On the nose, isn’t it?” James says, sitting up.

...was pure luck, because i was looking up the top hits on the uk singles chart for the week(ish) this scene takes place in so that i could find a song that would realistically play on the radio, saw this, and was like omg the stars really do align

i feel like the thing i enjoy most about writing romance is the importance i get to place in noticing/looking/observing (and sometimes, not noticing!). it's just such a powerful but simple writerly tool, and god knows i am obsessed with pithy descriptions anyway, so this bit i am especially happy with:

James is already waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. I feel as though I’m seeing him for the first time, the faint light of the flickering streetlamp catching him in profile: the strong slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smile. He studies the facade of our building with open curiosity, and I wonder what he’s looking for.

(one can only imagine james's train of thought in this moment. perhaps "ah. here lives the future love of my life"?)

“Thanks,” she tacks on at the end. I tip my head to one side in confusion. “For what?” “For, I don’t know. Being nice.” She laughs awkwardly. “I don’t do this very much.”

it wouldn't be a quibblah original tee em without some discourse to come about the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, would it? one thing i enjoy about this AU ("one thing" i say as if this isn't the billionth thing in a list) is that i get to write a romantic lily who's squaring that romanticism with what she perceives as the culture of the times. (this is a bit of a staple in all my characterisations of lily, but it is not often paired with casual sex, the complication of all complications!)

oh this bit literally wrote itself like i didn't even pause to think just vomited it out:

In the morning — and it must be early still — the sun streams through Lily’s sorry excuses for curtains with aggression that cannot be ignored. I crack open an eye to find myself sprawled out across her bed, quite literally spread-eagled. She’s attached to my side like a barnacle. Or a very pretty barnacle, anyway.

i'm especially proud of james's voice in this story. i don't often write first-person fic and i was worried how it'd turn out, but i think james as a character/narrator typically colours his own 3rd-person narration so strongly that it ended up a smoother transition than i'd feared!

also i just. i can't resist throwing in comic relief and i hope that this whole segment was a gentle enough preparation for the awkwardness that followed LOL

All of a sudden, the balcony door bursts open. I nearly drop the mug. “What the—” Mary pokes her head around the corner, sporting a righteous smile. “Morning, handsome.” Over her shoulder she shouts, “He’s on the balcony!” I blink. There’s a sound from inside the flat, as if something very large has just been dropped. Then a swear. “Oh, shit,” I say, realisation dawning, “you weren’t looking for me, were you? It’s so loud out here—” Mary cups a hand around her mouth and stage-whispers, “Lily was frantic.” She’s quite violently yanked back, and Lily herself appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “Should’ve checked the balcony first,” she says, and closes the door before Mary can insert herself into the space again. “Hi,” I say, which is agreed-upon best practice for greeting a woman you’ve just had fantastic sex with and ideally would like to have sex with again.

to this day i don't know what lily dropped. let's hope it wasn't expensive!

Captained the under-17 English squad at the World Cup some years back, Serie Primo’s lead goal-scorer of last year… Only an injury in what should’ve been his first season at Puddlemere mars his record. I wince reading about it and comparing it to a heap of press clippings. James Potter was hurt, and Puddlemere didn’t fancy paying for him not to play, so they shipped him off to Milan.

(you cannot imagine how much pointed interrogation of my brother it took to gather this intel.) i constantly worry that i've got dates or timelines wrong somehow — you might notice i tweaked under-17, which used to be under-19 until i realised that made no sense (even though in terms of its career importance i would much preferred it to have been u-19.... anyway). i also found out that u-17 football squads don't actually have captains but i said fuck it on that count.

but obviously i started writing this AU for the sports possibilities, only to discover i'm going to have to interfere a great deal with the Timeline (you shall see in future instalments).

god i really went through the whole fic. like i reread the whole thing to do this. here u go clare jfbghjfd

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (51) || atz

You don’t know what to do anymore.

Everything is falling apart to pieces, the world around you, the people at your side, you yourself, crumbling into ruins. Yunho is suffering from poison, having been stabbed in the side by his dearly beloved brother himself, who is cooperating with Commander Kang, Vice-Commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose fleet.

He also happens to be Yeosang’s estranged father and the man with the antidote to Yunho’s poison. He wants your captain to give up his magical knot, the nautical maps, you, and Yeosang in exchange for pardons for the whole crew… and Yunho’s antidote.

Wooyoung is avoiding you like you’re down with the plague, refusing to look you in the eye and cutting short all your feeble attempts at conversation with curt, uninterested replies. He’s become like some sort of wraith, gone more times than he is present, and the immense loneliness that clenches deep in you doesn’t help at all with the pains that have started to emerge in your chest.

You’re terrified. Terrified about exactly what exactly is happening to you.

And then the Kraken…

The Kraken is dead.

Jongho had reported the incident to your captain the moment the four of you had returned to the vessel, him being more worried about the Royal Navy ship present in the waters as compared to the death of the Kraken, but you had barely reacted to his worried questions, unable to comprehend what you had just seen.

The ancient Kraken is… dead.

You sit against the mast in empty silence, watching the stars blankly as the ship sails beneath them on a sea reflecting the galaxies in the night sky, lost in the majestic wonder of the sight and in your thoughts. Tonight, the air is freezing, and instinctively your hand reaches out next to you, seeking for the usual warmth that is always present by your side.

Then your fingers falter, halting hesitantly in mid air when they find nothing but cold, empty space.

Despair wells up in you and your hand falls back to your side, limp. Your head falls forwards as you try to hold back the sudden, warm tears that threaten to slip from your eyes. It hurts, deep in your chest, as real and raw as the sporadic pains you’ve been experiencing since leaving the Grand Iguana, and perhaps if you’re honest with yourself, even more so.

When you close your eyes and wish hard enough, with all of your might, you can see Wooyoung’s content smile as he lounges on the deck next to you, eyes fixated on the stars overhead. Wish a little more and you can feel the comforting weight of his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your intertwined hands in the lining of his pocket. Even if it was all a lie, even if he had never really cared about you, even if you were nothing more than a game to him, you just want to stay in that single moment forever, trapped in your knitted cocoon of comforting lies.

But you don’t have time to be worrying about those things, you think as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes. Because there are so many more problems that you need to focus on, bigger ones that are looming over you in spite of your own troubles.

Yunho is still dying.

And San doesn’t have a cure.

“I don’t know how to create the antidote.”

You don’t know what you should do, to be honest. There are all manner of emotions rushing through you right now – fear – despair – hopelessness – anger; directed at yourself or someone else, you don’t know, but all that matters is that Yunho is dying.

And that neither you nor San can do anything to stop it.

Slumping against the mast once more, you let out another exhausted sigh. You’re tired, completely worn out, battered from the constant strain and worries on your mind. All you want to do is lie down and sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to go to bed in front of your master, who is still burning midnight oil night after night as he and Yeosang search fruitlessly for an antidote.

You can’t bear to see the haggard, gaunt expression on his face as he rifles through the same books yet again, knowing full well in his heart that they don’t have the answers he needs, that only powerful magic could hope to have any sort of effect on the poison. You can’t continue to hear your master sob quietly to himself every night from under your covers as his worry for Yunho and the sheer weight of his failure takes its toll on him, the candlelight flickering across his face only making the tear tracks on his cheeks all the more pronounced.

And in the morning, when he wears a bright, falsely cheerful grin, telling you that everything will be alright, guilt eats away at you like a starving man when you know that he is the one who needs your comfort instead.

You bury your head in your hands with a soundless scream. Your sanity feels like it’s ripping apart at the seams, unraveling and crumbling to ash. There are too many worries and burdens stifling you from within, choking you like poisonous ivies, the thorns digging into your lungs and suffocating you of the air that you so desperately need. You want to spill everything in your chest to someone else, to relieve the burden from your shoulders, but who would be able to lend you a listening ear at this time of the night?

You glance about the deck instinctively. All your crewmates are sleeping below decks, San and Yeosang are tirelessly researching into the night for a cure, Wooyoung still won’t speak to you, and your captain… he…

Actually, why don’t you speak to your captain?

Leaping to your feet, you nearly trip over empty air in your haste as you scramble to the captain’s cabin. To your immense relief, you can see the faint flicker of candlelight coming through the glass windows, signifying that your captain is not yet asleep. You raise a trembling hand, and after a moment of hesitation, rap on the heavy wooden door with your knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

You’re left hanging for a moment when there’s a brief moment of silence, but before your hand can fall to the side in disappointment, a soft, raspy voice comes from behind the closed door.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through you and you pull open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of your captain’s cabin. Knowing that he usually sleeps in the hammock in the corner, your eyes flit there at first glance, but you’re surprised to find it empty. Instead, you finally see him at the glass window overlooking the sea, lounging on a chair there as he stares unblinkingly at the scene outside. He’s in a state of casual undress, signature red jacket slung over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as his fingers dance absentmindedly on a sheaf of thick parchment paper on his lap.

Then the smell of alcohol hits you like a punch to the gut.

In his other hand is a bottle of liquor, and from the pungent scent it’s a strong, powerful one. For a moment, you’re actually worried; is your captain too unable to cope with the pain and fear of losing his friend? Taking a hesitant step forward, you call out to your captain softly.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

If Hongjoong is surprised that you’ve come to search for him in the wee hours of morning, he doesn’t show it, subtly sliding the bottle of alcohol behind a curtain before he begins to tidy the papers on his lap as if he hasn’t heard your question in the least. When he’s satisfied with the state they’re in, he finally turns to glance at you.

“Ahh, Chin Hae, what do you need from me?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because your captain, Kim Hongjoong, is not wearing his eyepatch.

You’ve never actually thought about what was under that slip of black cloth. As the eyepatch has just… always been there, in some way you’ve forgotten that beneath your captain’s eyepatch, there are the scars of your captain’s childhood. You remember that your captain had told you once how his father had abandoned him on an island and shot him in the head, causing him to lose his eye in what must have surely been a traumatic accident for any child.

But the alcohol must have addled with your captain’s mind a lot more than you’d thought, because he doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s not wearing his eyepatch, instead cocking his head curiously to the side as he awaits for your response.

Your own eyes trace his face, lingering on his right eye as much as you try to tear your gaze away in polite courtesy. The eyepatch is such a big part of his wardrobe, even more significant than his red jacket itself, that you feel like he’s bared a part of himself to you without intending to.

You’re not going to lie. The scar is ugly, shallow ridges of scar tissue joining his skin of to his cheek, slightly fainter in colour than the smooth, unblemished skin around it. It mars what you would have almost called a flawless face, an unsightly stain upon what was once a perfect, white canvas.

You can almost imagine the sight happening before your eyes. Your captain as a young, innocent child, still with both soft green eyes and not yet exposed to the horrors of the world, scrambling backwards desperately in the sand, terror sending his body into sheer mind numbing panic as the one person who was supposed to protect him raises a musket to his head.

And it’s the last thing he’ll ever see out of that eye.

Your captain’s other eye, the healthy, working one, is a hazy green, dulled by the alcohol and pain. It takes him more than a second to realise what you’re looking at, his mind fogged over with liquor, but when he does, you’re terrified, yanking your eyes back to the ground as you can.

But it’s already too late.

“Get out!” Hongjoong roars, every syllable trembling with rage, rising to his feet in one explosive action. The papers on his lap slide to the ground and scatter everywhere, but they’re the least of your troubles right now. At the moment, you’re a lot more concerned about how your captain is practically looming over you, handsome face twisted in fury, warm breath hitting your cheeks. Your eyes are drawn back to his eye once more, almost instinctively, and Hongjoong clamps one hand over the scar, so hard that his fingers turn white, turning away from you so you can’t see it any longer, shoulders wound tight with tension.

Your heart breaks.

“Captain-”

“I said, get out.” He seethes, making to move across the room to his table, where his eyepatch lies. But the alcohol must have affected him a lot more than you thought, because he only manages five steps before his knees give out beneath him and he crumples to ground in a limp heap with a cry of pain. A yelp of horror leaves your mouth and you rush to help him, but he merely waves you off, one hand still pressed tight over his eye.

The message is clear. He doesn’t want you seeing his eye.

“Get me my eyepatch.” Hongjoong manages through gritted teeth and you scramble to obey, feeling the rough cloth beneath your fingers as you pluck it from the tabletop. Your captain practically snatches it from your hands when you return with it, yanking it over his eye as fast as he can.

The two of you remain there for a moment, your captain trying to get his breathing under control as you merely stay still before him, afraid to move. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and it’s only now that you notice his sallow cheeks, the old rum stains on his shirt. He’s been drowning all his fears and sorrows in liquor, and your heart only shatters more when you recall the brave front he’s been putting on in front of you and all the crew.

“I’m… I apologise.” Hongjoong finally rasps and your eyes dart to his face. His fingers still linger at his eyepatch, as if subconsciously trying to hide his scarred eye, his expression almost unreadable, forlorn, defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. You should go.”

Part of you does want to leave, terrified of what might happen if you stay here any longer. But even more than that, you’re worried about your captain. He’s clearly completely drunk on both alcohol and his emotions, and you can’t just leave him on the floor like that. So, mustering your courage, you put an arm around him and yank him to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in your chest when you do so, pulling him to Yeosang’s bed.

All the fight has clearly evaporated from your captain, because he merely goes along with what you’re trying to do, a complete turn from earlier when he’d been shouting at you to leave, albeit on unsteady feet. When Hongjoong reaches the bed, he simply topples over onto the mattress with a soft groan, eye shut as you sit next to him on the edge of the bed, a hundred and one questions running through your mind with nowhere to begin.

“Why?” You manage to whisper, the question soft to even your own ears. Exhaustion and alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he actually answers you, voice so forlorn it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I…I couldn’t help it... I felt like such a useless captain.” Hongjoong breathes into the silent room, voice laced with pain and depression and guilt. “Yunho got stabbed because I was too slow. Yeosang and you are wanted because I failed to protect the two of you. Now, we have no cure to save Yunho, but I… I just can’t give either of you up to that bastard. I don’t want to make a choice, so I’m trying to forget, but it just isn’t working.”

Everyone on board of this ship, Yeosang himself included, have reassured you that your captain would never give any of you up, but to hear it for yourself, with your own two ears, means so much more to you. Some sort of relief settles in you, but it doesn’t last long.

Your captain lets out a self deprecating chuckle. “I’m such a selfish man, aren’t I?”

You don’t know what your captain is talking about. What does he mean that he’s selfish? Kim Hongjoong is one of the most kind hearted people you’ve met, willing to go to any extent for his friends and crew, you included. But when you open your mouth to refute, your captain speaks once more, voice slurring ever so slightly over his words.

“Hey, Chin Hae... I’m terrified.”

The pained whimper that breaks forth from him is the final blow to your heart as you feel it shatter into teeny tiny pieces. You have this urge to comfort him, to reassure him in any way that he’ll be alright, but then Hongjoong is sitting up on the bed once more, green eye clouded with desperation as he grabs you tight by the shoulders.

“You can’t die, Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is shaking with some sort of deep rooted fear as his gaze searches yours. “Please… no, that’s an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I… no… I won’t be able to bear it if any of you die so please…” His voice breaks at the last word and a single tear rolls down your cheek at the sheer anguish in his words. “Please… please don’t die.”

He’s begging you.

“I’ll take all the danger, all the pain, everything. Please, don’t do anything dangerous.” He continues rambling weakly, head bowed before you in supplication as he pleads with you. He’s drunk. Too much so, you think blankly, your heart ripping itself to shreds at his words. “Getting tortured… even dying would be a better fate than losing any of you, so please…”

You’re frozen, unable to move an inch at the sheer wretchedness of his pleas. Your captain, your stupid, foolish and utterly selfless captain, doesn’t care for anything else except the safety of his crew. Your captain, who is always a pillar of support to all of you, perhaps doesn’t realise that he too, needs comfort as well.

Hongjoong is still mumbling ‘please’ brokenly under his breath, tears actually streaming down his cheeks as he begs you to stay alive and safe. You don’t know what to do, one hand coming up to grip the fabric above your chest, right where your heart is.

How? How are you ever going to tell Hongjoong about how your life might just be ending soon?

At this point, you don’t even know how to worry about yourself. Instead, you’re more concerned about what will happen to your captain if you do die, because how can you bring yourself to worry about you when your captain cares for your life more than his own?

The answer is simple, really.

You can’t.

This isn’t like that time from so long ago, when the biggest secrets you’d been keeping from the crew was the fact that you were a woman. Your captain is already tearing himself apart from the inside over all the problems he has to face now, what would happen to him if you told him you were dying and there was likely no way he could fix it?

He’d go insane.

So, as you hold back the tears that are desperately trying to escape your eyes, you pull him close in a hug and he clings to you, as if he’s drowning and you’re a lifeline. You press your nose into his shoulder and pat him, rubbing soothing circles into his back much like San used to do for you.

“I won’t die.” You lie through your teeth, and your heart clenches painfully, seemingly aware of your fibs. But Hongjoong nods desperately, trembling uncontrollably against you, your legs tangled in the blankets.

“You promise?” His voice is so weak, so afraid, that the tears spill over your lashes and onto your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder. You attempt a reassuring smile, but even to you, it’s forced and brittle, like flaking clay that has been left out in the sun too long.

Your reply is nothing but a sweet lie, one that you know you cannot possibly keep.

“I promise.”

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 10

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 10)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: So many questions, a few answers--and the identity of the assassin is revealed.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: CW for gore--please skip to the end for specific warnings that are spoilery.

This chapter may be garbage, but I've been STRUGGLING with this one (REWRITTEN FOURTEEN TIMES I AM NOT JOKING) so I'm posting it before I can change anything. The next one will come much sooner now that this ASSHOLE of a chapter is done.

If you've been waiting, I'm sorry and I love you. It's unbeta'd and uncooperative, so it's my fault if it sucks, but I WILL be making it up to you with a side story I'm now writing--Remile, anyone? >.> XD

Also, the content warning is for @elliot-orion​, 'cause it's a loving nod to a lovely hooman. We morbid nerds gotta stick together. They are just the literal best. <3

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

Lazari.

The word rattled around in twenty two year old Logan Berry's head the same way the word Necromata had in the empty skull of twelve year old Logan Crofter.

He was lucky, once again—to be alive, and to be supported. Lucky to have some of his memories, at least, to have his blood by his side...

His blood, and something more. Something that scared him and thrilled him and made him ache for the years and the empty hole in his head that kept him from it. Something that blotted out the world and turned the word into...something else.

Lazari. Lazari. Logan.

Lazari.

“Logan.”

There was a hand on his arm, breaking through the blood roaring in his ears and the dim haze that had fallen over his vision—not like the Loom of Memory, but something sick and frenetic and shaking.

...so this was what Virgil's panic attacks were like. Interesting.

The hand slid down to his wrist, then down further to mesh their fingers together.

There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him.

“...Roman?”

“That's right, Starlight. Just...hold on. Don't let go—not this time.”

Logan tightened his fingers in Roman's, trying to find a rhythm to get his breathing under control. It was more than just the panic and fear and confusion, his heart was racing and he couldn't breathe and his limbs were sore...he'd been running. Running away, running—towards?

Running through the tunnels, running through the dark, running away...

Roman's thumb ran along the side of Logan's index finger, slow strokes back and forth. Logan tried to time his breaths around each gentle sweep...and it helped, at least a little.

“I never have.” he managed to reply after a few minutes of just standing, clinging, breathing. “I never will.”

Roman's face was finally in focus again. Logan's chest felt raw, scraped by sandpaper and flayed by knives—he was tousled dark hair and  tanned skin and eyes of emerald, handsome and compassionate and so painfully kind, this prince, this king—

--and Logan loved him. He had loved him for so many years. Logan's mind had been stripped of the knowledge, but his heart was an open wound that knew, that remembered every second of that separation. It had clung, it had beat steady...it had waited for him.

“You did last time.” Roman pointed out with a sad smile. His free hand found his way into Logan's, leaving them standing there in one of the unused sewer tunnels, holding hands like besotted children as they stared into each other's eyes.

“You swore you wouldn't...and you let go.”

Logan shook his head. “No, I didn't. I was pulled away.”

“I...remember.”

Logan watched Roman frown at that, as if surprised by the knowledge of his own recollection—then watched the light in his eyes die a little.

“I can never forget.” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, lashes shimmering in the low light with the tears trying to escape. “The sound of your screams as you were dragged away...the door shutting, and how quiet everything got--”

“Why were we there?” Logan asked softly, stepping closer against his will. Everything in him was screaming for more, closer, all. He was starving for Roman, for his beauty and his smile and his laughter, for his wild optimism and boundless determination.

“Hmmm?”

“Why were we there? Why...why was I arrested? What did I hide?”

Roman opened his eyes, causing the tears to spill while his expression melted from pain to puzzlement. Logan reached up with hand, without letting Roman go, to wipe away one of the tear tracks with his thumb.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember being taken—my last glimpse of you. Before you grabbed me, I was hiding something.” Logan explained.

And that was...important somehow. He just couldn't put his finger on it...

Roman leaned into Logan's touch, shifting his grip so he could hold Logan's hand to his face, palm curled against Roman's cheek while he thought.

“I��I have trouble remembering.” he admitted softly. “We were looking for one of the Tomes. To...prove...”

Logan nodded. “I reconstructed a portion of that memory earlier—but something stopped me from finishing it. That was why I was so...confused when I left the Loom of Memory.”

Roman nodded. “I felt it. I couldn't see the memory, but when you were channeling from me, I...sensed what you were doing, and I tried to help. When you were thrown out of that trance, it felt—wrong. Painful.”

“But you can't remember?” Logan asked, something worming through his brain as he turned it over in his head. “That doesn't make sense. Why would...”

...he hung on until the grip on his collar finally yanked him out of the fourteen year old prince's grasp...

He stilled, something in the pit of his chest trembling.

“...I made sure of it.” he realized aloud.

“Made sure of what, Logan?”

Looking into Roman's eyes, Logan remembered that younger face, the desperation and fear, that glimpse of jewel green in the dark and that was all he wanted in the world before...before...

“When I was taken—I didn't let go, I was pulled away. I made sure of it.” he replied with more confidence.

Logan stared down at their remaining joined hand, lifting it up between them. He shifted his grip, unlinking their fingers until he had his wrapped around Roman's digits in a death grip. Roman's hand curled into it, clinging like he had that night.

When he'd been trying to drag Logan to safety.

The hand at his collar yanked, and Logan's fingers slid free, throbbing—

Only then did Logan feel the bite of the ring.

“What's this, Roman?”

Releasing his hand, Logan showed him the ring he was wearing—heavy silver, wrought with strange symbols that Logan did not understand anymore, but called to him in a way that made him think he'd known how to read them once upon a time. The ring was set with a stone blue as lapis lazuli and Patton's eyes, but rather than being flecked with gold, it was dotted red.

Roman stared at the ring on his hand, then at Logan, fear in his eyes.

“Remus.” he breathed. “He...he put it on me the night you were arrested. I was holding it, and he put it on me—Logan, why didn't I remember that? Why are there things I don't remember?...”

“Because I was wearing it.” he replied, running his thumb over the stone. Removing his other hand from Roman's cheek, Logan cradled Roman's hand between both of his and inspected the ring more closely. It was warm to the touch, and he felt a flare of power in his gut that terrified him. The ring was bespelled...

He'd been wearing it the night of his arrest—and Logan was still working the spell wrought into it.

“It's enchanted...I think the spell breaks if the wearer removes it.” Logan replied slowly, uncertainly. “I...I made sure I didn't take it off myself. You...you pulled it off my hand, I remember it wrenched my finger.”

He stared at the ring, then up at Roman again.

“I think...I think the fact that I never broke my connection to it means that it's spell is affecting both of us. Some spell affecting perception, or...memory.”

Roman gaped at him, then at the ring. Logan watched his brow furrow, then his jaw set with an anger he didn't recognize, but one that felt painfully familiar.

“Well then—let's see which it is.”

There was something Logan was missing...something about where they were standing...

Over Roman's shoulder, Logan spotted a steel ladder leading up.

He recognized this tunnel.

“Roman, no--”

Tugging out of Logan's grip, Roman removed the ring.

********** “...sorry, guys.”

“For the ninth time, Patton—it's okay.” Virgil soothed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I didn't even expect him to spook when you told him he was a Lazari. That's normally my job.”

“I'm assuming that's why the prince is hanging on you?” Janus replied dryly.

Virgil looked over his shoulder—and wrinkled his nose when his face smooshed into the side of Remus's, who had his arms cinched around Virgil's waist and his chin on Virgil's shoulder.

“Not really.” Remus chirped brightly. “Though that's a fair point—physical contact does wonders for anxiety. Nah, I'm just copping a feel is all.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil faced the other two again—and resisted the urge to lay his hands over the ones pressed to his stomach, to lean back into the solid line of warmth behind him that made everything feel smaller and quieter and safer. It was a larger, more intense version of the warmth that cradled him as he'd fallen into Logan, giving up his mind to expand his brother's...

It hadn't been that intense in a long time—coming back to himself was usually hard, shook him up, but...Remus helped. Weirdly. Sort of.

...fuck it: Virgil folded his arms across his chest, but leaned back into Remus and ignored him aggressively. Especially when he pretty much cuddled up to Virgil's back even harder.

“So how did this happen?” Virgil asked Janus and Patton instead. “Both Pat here and my brother—you said Patton's a Lazari?”

Patton shook his head. “Only Weavers can become Lazari—I'm a Herald! I was a Black Dog before I got my soul.”

Virgil blinked at that. “You are a Black Dog? You're nowhere near violent enough.”

Janus let out an abrupt laugh at that as he regarded Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “When you went through basic training, did your instructor warn you about gagging prisoners?”

“Yeah: not to do it alone. He told some story about a cannibal in the dungeons who took three of a private's fingers off.”

“Hmph.”

Virgil blinked, looking at the source of the huff—namely, the tiny curly haired cherub of a necromancer who was sort of...hugging Janus's bicep with both his arms, cheek pressed just below his shoulder with a petulant little pout on his round features.

“You...What? You...no. No, you did not--”

Patton huffed, holding onto Janus tighter as he straightened primly.

“He was mean to Logan.” he insisted. “And I didn't eat them, I spat them out and fed them to the rats. And that was just his fingers, he gave up his nose when he tried to kill Janus--”

“And this is why I had to arrange to make him Logan's cell mate very early on—sharp teeth when he's mad.” Janus sighed, all while casting Patton a look so warm and so infinitely luminous that it could only be called tender. “He was safer, and far less of a troublemaker, with companionship.”

Virgil's stomach turned dangerously, and as if he knew, one of Remus's hands pressed flat to Virgil's belly, like he was trying to steady him.

“Oh, Seven Hells...” Virgil groaned, shaking his head. “I can't—know what? Fuck it. I believe you, and I'm sufficiently terrified of the cannibalistic Black Dog.”

“Herald.” Patton protested. “And I did not eat his fingers! The tip of his nose was an accident, he shoved me after I bit him and I swallowed on reflex--”

“Can we please get back on topic?” Virgil protested.

“Oh, come on, toy soldier.” Remus laughed. “This is good stuff! If you weren't so cute and Pattycake there wasn't so gone on Lord Janus, I'd be checking out his ass right now!”

Virgil sputtered and blushed, trying to refocus on the conversation and not...the crap coming out of Remus's mouth. While he was currently a literal monkey on Virgil's back.

“So...that's how it's done? You...get a soul? But the Animata were the only ones who could give necromancers souls, and they don't exist anymore.”

“Actually...”

Virgil glared back at Remus. “What the hell do you know, you walking trash can?”

“Oh—you say the sweetest things!” Remus cooed, reaching up to boop the tip of Virgil's nose before grabbing onto him again.

“Seriously, Remus...”

The warning note in Virgil's voice clearly did something, because Remus finally sobered and lost some of that manic gleam in his eye. Instead, the green eyes he shared with his brother glinted more like blades carved of pure emerald: razor sharp, precise, and deadly.

“My big brother's a half-twin who got hung up on a necromancer. I did some digging.” he admitted. The nasal whine in Remus's voice softened as he spoke, turning his tone into something smooth and impossible to ignore: biting enough to catch the ear, pleasant enough to make listening enjoyable.

“In the few records we have of Zero—the first year of the time cycle we use now—there are documented mentions of the Animata. You have to lie, cheat, steal, and fuck to see those volumes of the Tomes, even if you're a member of the royal family, but luckily I'm good at all four of those things!”

“So the Animata are real?”

“Very. We just know them by a different name now.”

“What name?”

“...that's what I'm not sure of.”

“I am.”

Virgil looked to Janus sharply. “How?”

Janus glared at him, then Remus...then slid a look at Patton, who snuggled closer and nodded in encouragement.

“Animata is a word from the language of the dragons.” Janus finally admitted. “Even drakes are born knowing how to speak it. The word means 'life giver.' However, according to my mother, it was also the root of a pejorative—a slur directed at the entire race due to the crimes of one. A slur that means 'death giver.'”

He paused, then looked Virgil square in the eye.

“The slur was necromata.”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Virgil asked—no, wheezed...no, something else, because he wasn't sure he had enough breath for that.

“I'm talking about the fact that your people never needed to be controlled, Virgil. You were—are the life givers. You animate the dead—give back life that was taken, remember the forgotten, grant warning to the condemned so they can meet their end without regret. The power your people possess is a gift granted you by the Fates, one the Animator turned his back on.”

“How do you know any of this? Who is your mother that she knows--”

“My mother was the Dragon Witch of Kolar!”

Virgil's mouth snapped shut as silence fell. For a long moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak as he thought about all the Festivals of the Forgotten past, of his grandmother's grave that Grandpap visited every week, and the one nameless child's grave in the celebratory fields, forbidding anyone to touch it for literal years...

“What'm I missing, toy soldier?” Remus murmured in his ear, making Virgil shiver reflexively—and also bringing him back to the present.

Oh, nothing. Virgil wanted to say. Only I think that Lord Janus, captain of the royal guard and the assassin's corps is my dead uncle, that's all.

Instead, Virgil just shook his head and sagged into Remus a little more, letting his steady warmth stave off the panic attack he could feel coming on.

“Then...what about the race of twin souls?” he finally croaked, dismissing the subject.

“There's no race.” Patton replied after a moment before looking up at Janus with an expression so soft, he half expected the drake to transform into a baby duckling. “Just...well...soulmates. In that they have two souls, and one of them belongs to us. Janny gave me mine.”

“You're a twin soul?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I'm a drake—half human, half dragon? The duality is more than just tragic backstory, sweetie.”

Virgil tried not to think about the implications of that 'tragic backstory'--then his blood ran cold as he twisted to look Remus in the eye.

“You weren't hiding Roman because of his extra soul.” he breathed. “You were hiding the fact that he gave it away.”

“An extra soul? He—what?” Janus sputtered.

“King Thomas Roman II isn't a conduit, he's a twin soul. The princes are half-twins, split between the cusp of days.” Virgil explained. “When twins are born on two separate days, they get two different souls—not the one they were supposed to be linked to. It means that--”

“One twin gets a normal soul, the other gets two, his and the one his brother should have had—and the power of a completely unsullied soul is the kind of power that can easily ensure someone is mistaken for a conduit.” Janus realized aloud, cursing. “This is not the kind of thing you hide from the captain of the guard! How did that even happen, anyway?”

“Because Roman doesn't know.”

Virgil watched Remus's face as he spoke, strangely shaken by the look of regret on his features.

“What do you mean he doesn't know?” Janus protested. “That's not something that's easy to hide.”

“...unless he doesn't remember.”

Patton's sweet, gentle voice piped up, and Virgil watched as he left Janus's side to step closer, his eyes on Remus.

“He doesn't, does he?” he asked softly. “That's how Janny didn't know. That's--”

Patton was cut off by a distant cry of alarm that sounded suspiciously like...

Remus's arms tightened around Virgil. “Roman.”

Virgil looked to Janus, who was already staring in the direction of the voice. Looking to Virgil, he nodded in silent understanding.

The king was in trouble, and Logan was with him.

Janus swept his cape back, glancing at Patton. “Darling?”

Patton nodded, features screwed up in determination...

...and before their eyes, the diminutive young necromancer had melted, reshaped itself, until a hound roughly half Janus's height stood befor them, with a sleek, coal black coat and eyes that glowed bright, cheerful sky blue.

Patton's nose hit the ground like a shot, sniffing and snuffling before he whined and took off at a trot.

********** “Loganberry!”

A few turns down the tunnels led them towards a steel ladder leading up to a hatch that led somewhere into the lower levels of the palace. Just a few feet away from it, a prone figure was on the ground, unconscious.

By the time Virgil reached his side, Logan was sitting up, rubbing his face.

“Get him up.” Janus ordered. “We need to get you all to the king's chambers for safety's sake.”

Virgil nodded, facing Logan—Logan, who was staring at the steel ladder like it was some kind of phantom.

“Logan...where's Roman?” Virgil asked softly.

Something crossed Logan's features, an emotion so painfully intense Virgil couldn't quite identify it—then went cold and dead with an emotion Virgil knew very well.

One that could easily be mistaken for neutral in its total absence of feeling, but with the subtle curl of Logan's lip, Virgil could easily identify as pure, undiluted rage.

“The king has been taken.” Logan declared, rising to his feet and stalking towards the ladder.

“By who?” Remus asked, startling Virgil with the fact that he was directly behind him with Virgil never realizing he was there.

“The assassin.” Logan replied—just as he began climbing the ladder.

“Logan, get down here!” Janus snapped.

“You'll want to join me, Lord Janus—this leads to the dungeons. Please instruct Patton to resume his human form.”

Virgil could hear a snuffle somewhere behind him, but he was unable to tear his focus from Logan as he ascended the ladder. There was something about his voice, that look on his face, something that was making Virgil's chest tight and his ears buzz with a funny droning sound...

He followed Logan up the ladder.

At the top, Logan was there to help him up, grabbing his hand to steady him as he emerged in the middle of a dungeon hallway. The pair of them did the same for Remus, Janus, and a Patton now in human form.

“...this is the barricaded section.” Janus realized as he straightened, dusting himself off before turning to Patton. “This portion of the dungeons was shut down eight years ago.”

“Correct.” Logan replied, facing the four men and gesturing down the hall. “There is an office down the hall--”

The buzzing in Virgil's ears grew louder, and the world started to get a little washed out on the edges—sort of gray and blurry.

“This is where you were taken.” he wheezed, feeling a line of heat at his back when he started to sway.

Logan nodded, then turned away from them and knelt beside the open sewer hole. He thought Logan was going to slide the cover back in place, but then watched him reach inside. Only then did Virgil realize the hole had some kind of channel around the edge, slim but deep, possibly for some kind of drainage component that was never put in.

Logan reached into it, fished around, then pulled out a slim bundle wrapped in a faded, careworn child's coat.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Logan's shoulders slumped.

“Roman is still alive.” he sighed to himself, distracted and not quite soft enough to keep from being heard. “He never found it.”

Virgil felt his knees buckle. Arms wound around his waist again, and some of the gray edges in his vision cleared a little.

“You...you...Lo, you have...”

Logan replaced the sewer cover and stood, facing Virgil with a neutral, but softer look.

“My memory back, yes.” Logan replied. “It's a long story, but its restoration is the very reason Roman was taken from me. The assassin has him—that is why you should be here, Lord Janus--”

“Try uncle.” Virgil muttered—however, Logan heard him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ma'am-Ma'am was his mother, so he's Geni's brother.”

“Just how old do you fuckers get?” Remus huffed behind Virgil.

“The life expectancy of the average Necromata is about a hundred and twenty years—but the dragon blood in the Crofter family tree means we get triple that.” Virgil muttered as Logan regarded Janus with new interest. “My geni was born, not hatched, and they didn't meet Pari until they were a hundred and forty.”

“How do you know the assassin was the one that took the king, Logan?” Patton asked from his place at Janus's side.

“Because he tried to kill me when I was nine.” As quickly as possible, Logan relayed his memory of how he first met Roman, resuscitated after being found nearly drowned in a river.

“He is also the one who arrested me—and the one who just broke out of the dungeons.” Logan finished. “That is why I brought you all up here, Lord Janus. And this...”

Logan stopped to unwrap his precious bundle, revealing a small, leatherbound volume.

“...will prove his guilt, as well as provide us a means to stop him.”

“Logan...who is the asassin?”

Logan's features paled then, bright blue eyes dulling with remembered horror.

When he spoke, Remus's arms around Virgil tightened, and Virgil distantly heard Patton choke out a strangled noise that might have been a sob that echoed the sudden lump that was making it hard for Virgil to breathe.”

“The man you arrested yesterday, Lord Janus—the assassin is Colonel Mori.”

* * * * Specific CW for gore: mentions of cannibalism, both in general and specific--erring on the side of caution with graphic depictions of it, mostly discussing the details of a bitey little manpuppy being bitey. And a manpuppy. XD

[horrorslashergirl]

Decebal Avram Chirilă Headcanons

Authors Note: I did some Headcanons for my Romania Original Characters and used a lot of history references to depict his character. I think it turned out to be good, but I am very certain. Also, I have no grudge against other countries and such. This is strictly for my character. I mean; just because you create a character that kills that doesn’t mean you support real life murder or you kill yourself. Good, now that we made that clear. ENJOY!

Rebel with a cause; Outlaw by heart

Decebal is someone that both stands out and can blend in, which is a paradox. He stands out mostly because of his very tall form and handsome eccentric features; basically, when he enters a room he lights it up with his attitude. The blend in part is mostly after the big entrance in a room. He is multilingual and can fake accents, which confuses people. For example, he went to Italy multiple times and the local ones there thought at first he was a foreigner, until Decebal put on the Italian accent, speaking it fluently; the locals were confused. Is he Italian? Doesn't look like it.

He doesn't like uncultured people. He is a man who loves to learn about other countries' histories and culture, to broaden his horizons in this aspect. Knowledge is the second most valuable treasure along with Freedom. He is happy to explain culture and information misunderstandings about his country. 'No, dragă. Romanian isn't a Slavic language. It's a Latin language.' He had to explain this way too many times.

History has put a great impact on Decebal; he loves and hates it at the same time. He loves it because you get valuable lessons out of it; for example, in November 1942 Soviet forces launched a counteroffensive against the Germans arrayed at Stalingrad in mid-November 1942. They quickly encircled an entire German army, more than 220,000 soldiers. In February 1943, after months of fierce fighting and heavy casualties, the surviving German forces—only about 91,000 soldiers—surrendered. How did this happen? Stalingrad wasn't an important target, but Hitler wanted to destroy it mostly because of its name that comes from Stalin.... In conclusion, PRIDE destroyed them.

Decebal is anxious around Russians, although he does visit the country, mostly because of Ukraine and Belarus. Decebal is anxious around Russian's because of their history. One issue is that prior to World War I, the Romanians sent their gold reserves to Russia for safekeeping but the Russians did not return the gold after the war. Take it like this; Romania was an ally with Germany and Russia. The German's when they went to brothels, they brought flowers and chocolate, while the Russian beat and raped them. The Romanian women covered themselves with charcoal to make themselves ugly and unattractive to the Russians. Now, Decebal doesn't judge because of your nationality, but if you do prove you are like that, well.... Tough luck. Russia is a nation with power or strength as its national idea and they have repeatedly shown that they do not care about ideals like “legality” or “legitimacy” but respect force and military power only. This trait does not make you popular among your neighbors. Instead, you´re seen as an aggressive jackass who abuses and bullies others.

There are also many reasons why Decebal has anxiety towards Russians, all because of history. Romanians were forced to learn Russian. Romanians who are older still, almost universally, will tell you that they know one phrase in Russian: "Дайте часы!" ("Give me a watch!") Because that's what the Soviet liberating soldiers told every Romanian as they liberated them of their wrist watches (and anything else they fancied) when WW2 ended. Among other things that the Russians liberated from Romanians? The entire Romanian national treasure. Oh, and Moldova. Decebal has Moldovian blood running through his veins. Basically, Romania trusted Russia with its national treasure, Russia being an ally. 

Decebal, if he is your ally, won't ever leave you on the battlefield, he is a 'go all the way or die' type. He's tired of how cowardice has affected his country and himself, so he is willing to fight till death. If you have strong beliefs and are passionate about something he will support them. Think of him as a shield of steel.

He hates the dictator-like attitude; he had to endure a lot of that shit and he is in no mood to listen to someone that thinks they're the big bad one just because they induce fear and brutality like an uneducated mindless jackass. Seriously, don't try to impose him with that kind of attitude because at some point his rage will come undone. There's a Romanian saying 'Mi-sa umplut paharul', which basically means that he won't take your shit anymore. Decebal is as scary as he is friendly. You don't wanna see this guy get into that mood. When he gets angry, which rarely happens, there's a cold wind that hits the nape of your neck, a dead silence that makes you wonder what will happen and a shadow casts his face, his almost white eyes illuminating under that shadow. Short story.... If you're the unlucky soul that has angered him, your body will be turned into shish kebab.... very tiny pieces and he will do that oh so slowly. 

Getting over these dark vibes, Decebal is a music lover, one of the many things that keep his grin on and his eyes sparkling with life. He has an mp3 player with earphones in the pocket of his jacket and loves to listen to it during the most normal and abnormal times. He will listen to music at night while sitting on the roof of a house/building or..... He will fight with the earphones on and music blasting. He sings, and he is pretty good at it.

Decebal has so many faces that it's hard to really put a label on him. Some see him as a very cultured gentleman with a charismatic personality that brightens every room he enters. Then there are the ones that describe him as a hooligan, a punk, a very vulgar and blunt person who has no shame and mercy. He is really just a way too honest misunderstood guy with a vertebral column that cannot be bend.

He is a guy that appreciates the little things life has to offer. Life during Romanian communism really imprinted on his life. Give him a little piece of bread and he will be grateful to you. The food ration during that time was harsh; no more than half a loaf of bread, not too much meat, or sugar, and so on. Food is a luxury in Decebal's eyes.

Decebal is more used to the night than day, mostly because all his life he spend it in darkness. He spent months in underground jails without seeing the light of the day, losing track of time. Plus the communist government cut off electricity from 6:00 - 8:00 pm each night across the country to preserve energy. He sees in darkness like a cat and his ears are very sensitive.

Decebal loves his home country very much because he knows how much potential this little country has. Romania is Europe’s richest country in gold resources, Romania boasts the world’s largest administrative building, The largest population of brown bears in Europe lives in Romania, The Statue of Decebalus in Orsova is Europe’s largest rock sculpture, The only gold museum in Europe is found in Romania and also Romania has one of the happiest cemeteries on Earth, a reason for why Decebal makes jokes even in the face of death. On each grave there, is written dark humor poetry. Here's an example:

Under this heavy cross

Lies my poor mother in-law

Three more days should she have lived

I would lie, and she would read (this cross).

You, who here are passing by

Not to wake her up please try

Cause’ if she comes back home

She’ll criticise me more.

But I will surely behave

So she’ll not return from grave.

Stay here, my dear mother in-law!

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Debrief

Part 7 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

…the thunder of crashing boulders…

…Hwan’s green eyes, wide with terror, framed by a Fire Nation Infantry helmet…

…the heat of the fires, bathing his face with the stench of burning hair and flesh…

…Father’s voice, sneering “suffering will be your teacher”…

The shriek of terror and remembered pain is strangled in his throat as Zuko snaps awake, drenched in cold sweat and panting like he’s been tree-running for an entire day. The Yuyan dorm is dark and quiet, everyone is still asleep, and Zuko simply lies in his bunk and breathes.

It’s been a week since Chihese and Haili Squads returned from Huzhen, two weeks since the battle (slaughter) itself, and Zuko has had nightmares every night. Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees the captive earthbenders dressed in Fire Nation uniforms as they’re buried by their own countrymen, feels the fire thrown by the Third Infantry Corps as they overwhelm the tiny Earth Kingdom company… feels his face burn as Ozai caresses him with flames.

He wants to climb into Kai’s bunk, like he has every time he had a nightmare or a major panic attack in the last almost two years. But he’s turning sixteen in two months, he’s no longer a child, and hasn’t been since he was discarded in the Earth Kingdom wilderness like an unruly and unwanted house pet. He can’t go running to his best friend every time he has a bad dream anymore. They barely fit on the same bunk anymore, anyway—Kai has always been tall and lanky, but at the age of twenty has topped out at six feet and gained the shoulders to match. Zuko himself has shot up to nearly 5’6” and gotten his shoulders early, much to Kai’s chagrin. If Zuko tries to sneak into Kai’s bunk, one of them is going to end up on the floor.

No, he's not a kid anymore. He can deal.

He slips out of his bunk and silently works his way through the Stronghold to the komodo-rhino stables. The stables are quiet but for the sounds of the rhinos shifting and breathing in their sleep, and Zuko silently scales the building to perch on the roof, facing the east.He's exhausted, but he never goes back to sleep after one of these nightmares. If he's lucky, he'll only have a couple of hours before he'd wake up naturally from the sunrise, but tonight's not a lucky night––there's several hours between now and dawn. He sighs, and settles himself to meditate, feeling his inner flame race through his chi paths and chase away the chill of the mountain night.

His thoughts refuse to settle, though. They race around his skull like trapped rats:

How could Hanzou do something so horrible?

It was an excellent strategy.

It was cruel!

They were going to be executed or imprisoned anyway.

It was dishonorable!

There is no honor in war.

Then maybe the war should end.

Zuko opens his eyes with a gasp. End the war? The war was meant to bring the Fire Nation’s light to the world, to demonstrate their superiority to the other Nations.

How in the depths of Koh’s lair does murdering an entire squad of captured prisoners in cold blood make the Fire Nation in any way superior?

But that’s treason, to think like that. Zuko has given up on attempting to feel anything other than fear and contempt for Ozai, has given up believing in the power of his royal blood after being so very thoroughly disowned by his father and Fire Lord, but he is still a citizen of the Fire Nation, a loyal one.

But… how can he claim loyalty to a nation that commits crimes against other humans in the name of spreading greatness? He has no doubt that Ozai will reward Lieutenant General Hanzou handsomely for his actions at Huzhen—the Fire Lord has demonstrated repeatedly that he cares little for his own people, let alone helpless enemy prisoners of war, and will commend Hanzou for his creativity in solving two problems in such a simple action. This will encourage (has encouraged, Zuko can never forget his failure to prevent the death of the 41st) other generals to try equally ruthless tactics to earn the Fire Lord’s favor for themselves, perpetuating his bloodlust all over the world. Ozai has turned Sozin’s admittedly megalomaniacal dream of spreading Fire Nation greatness into a nightmare of fire and death for the other nations, and has turned the Fire Nation into exactly the kind of savages his people are taught to believe the other nations are.

This war has to end, and it can’t end with a Fire Nation victory. If that makes him a traitor to the Fire Nation, then so be it, but he would rather save his nation’s soul than perpetuate its cruelties. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but there’s got to be some way to end the fighting, end the war, without the complete destruction of one side or the other.

Uncle Iroh had come back from the Siege of Ba Sing Se with an urn containing the ashes of Cousin Lu Ten’s body and a quiet but powerful belief in the importance of balance. In oneself, in one’s life, and in the world itself. Zuko had thought the old man had gone a little nuts from the trauma of losing Lu Ten, but now… now he can kind of see what his uncle was talking about. It makes Zuko wonder if Uncle, too, saw how the Fire Nation was destroying itself as its leaders destroyed the world.

He can’t let it continue.

Terrified green eyes wide in a pallid face framed by a Fire Nation Infantry helmet…

A shoe scuffs almost silently on the roof, and Commander Toshiaki steps out of the darkness and settles himself a polite distance from Zuko.

Zuko’s nerves buzz and he has to consciously keep himself from tensing up. Damn his luck. The moment he makes the conscious decision to commit treason against the Fire Nation, and who shows up but his Agni-damned commanding officer.

The Commander softly snaps his fingers, and Zuko automatically gives him his attention.

It’s not uncommon for soldiers to have trouble sleeping after their first taste of combat, he signs, slow and easy, his expression serene.

Zuko grits his teeth. That wasn’t combat, Commander, he replies, signs sharp. That was a slaughter.

He fully expects to be reprimanded, but the Commander merely bows his head in concession.

I agree.

Zuko watches in mild shock as the Commander continues.

What happened at Huzhen was a tragedy and should never have happened, he signs. What happened to the 41st Division was a tragedy and should never have happened. The Siege of Ba Sing Se, the predations of the Southern Raiders, the attack on the Northern Water Tribe, the destruction of Taka… the genocide of the Air Nomads. All tragedies, none of which should have ever happened.

Zuko watches as his superior hesitates, just for a split second, completely invisible to a civilian's eye but as obvious and shocking as lightning.

Your farce of an Agni Kai was a tragedy, and should never have happened, Commander Toshiaki finishes, looking Zuko in the eye.

For moments that feel like years, neither of them move. Zuko barely dares to breathe. But when several minutes pass and the Commander makes no move to attempt to restrain him for arrest and return to Caldera, Zuko tentatively raises his hands.

How long have you known?

The Commander smiles wryly. I'd had no idea until Dr. Atsuko told me about two weeks after your arrival. Apparently her uncle was present.

Zuko does not want to talk about this, but his hands move without his permission. Him and the entire fucking Caldera, he snaps out, feeling the flash of heat over his eye that always accompanied even a passing thought of the spirits-damned mockery of a duel that was meant to end his life.

The Commander is still. Waiting, endlessly patient, like the hunter he's been training Zuko to be for almost two years.

Why didn't you turn me in? Zuko asks, morbidly curious. He hadn't hidden his identity, he'd just known that after six months of living by himself in the middle of nowhere, no one would believe him if he tried to insist that he was the missing Fire Prince. "Zuko" wasn't a hugely popular name, but it wasn't rare.

For a long time, the Commander doesn't answer. He just sits beside Zuko, not too close, and leans back on his hands and stares up at the stars. Zuko wants to get impatient, to snap his hands around the signs and demand answers, but he grips his knees until his knuckles and fingertips turn white and waits.

Finally, the Commander sits up, bringing his hands up to sign.

I have been a loyal soldier of the Fire Nation for seventeen years, he signs, not seeming to actually look at Zuko. I have done many things in the service of my country, but they have always been in line with my own morals. But that… that was a step too far. You are a child. You were a child then, and you are a child now. There is no action that you could take or had taken that should have been met with violence of any kind, much less on that scale. You should have been sent to bed without dessert, or made to write lines or do conditioning drills, not–

–Getting my face burned off? Zuko finishes, tilting his head and smirking lightly.

The Commander scowls at him, then a small smirk of his own breaks through and he chuckles silently.

I don’t know how to explain it any better, but after Atsuko left, I thought about you, and about how kind you are, and how much better things might be if you were Fire Lord, and suddenly I was doing everything in my power to keep you alive to become Fire Lord.

So I’m a bargaining chip. Zuko keeps his expressions and body tightly under control, burying his hurt.

NO.

He jumps at the force of the sign, at the way the Commander seems to double in size as he leaned forward with his shoulders thrown back aggressively, his hairless eyebrows furrowed low over his dark eyes, mouth turned firmly down. He may as well have been shouting.The Commander relaxes a bit as he continues to sign, but he still leans toward Zuko just a little bit in his eagerness. You are not a bargaining chip, Zuko. You are not some prize to control. You are the closest thing to a son that I am ever going to have, and I am so incredibly proud of the man you are becoming before my very eyes. I didn’t report you because what the Fire Lord did to you is wrong, it was cruel and despicable and the fact that no one else seems to have had any problem with it just goes to show how far our great Nation has fallen. You are a child, and I wanted to protect you and give you the time you needed to heal and grow and decide what it is you want to do with your life. If you decide to enlist officially in the Archers, I will be happy to help you falsify the documents you need and approve them. If you decide to move to Ba Sing Se as a refugee and live in peace, then I will do everything in my power to ensure your safe passage. He takes a deep breath, and folds himself into full kneel atop the narrow peak beam of the stable roof. It’s not a full kowtow, because he needs his hands to speak, but it shocks Zuko just the same.

If my Prince decides to take up arms against the tyrant Fire Lord, then it will be my honor and my privilege to dedicate my life and my bow to his service.

It takes Zuko a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he does he nearly falls off the roof. His spirits-damned commanding officeris swearing fealty to him, Zuko, the prince who was burned and thrown out of his homeland to die. This man saved him, risked court martial and prison and even death to keep Zuko from being discovered and executed by his father, and here he is, dedicating his life to some hypothetical and certainly suicidal bid Zuko might make for the throne. He can’t breathe.

Please… please get up… he signs shakily, and pulls on the Commander’s arm. The older man sits, but keeps his head respectfully bowed. Zuko gathers up the tattered remains of his composure. I don’t understand what you want from me. You would really just… let me go? After two years? If I said I didn’t want to continue being part of the Archers, or didn’t want to try to overthrow my father? You would just… let me go? He’s never felt like the Archers were keeping him hostage, but learning that his commanding officer knew who he was this entire time and had kept the knowledge secret is messing with his perceptions.

Commander Toshiaki looks heartbroken as he signs, Of course I would. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. If you decide to find that safety and happiness behind the walls of Ba Sing Se, then I will forge the paperwork required and escort you there myself. I would miss you terribly, and Kai may never forgive me, but I would rest well knowing that you are happy and safe.

Zuko is sorely tempted, the memories of Huzhen sending icicles up and down his spine. But his people would still be killing and dying and poisoning themselves and the rest of the world with their hate and unchecked aggression while he hid safe and contented behind Ba Sing Se’s massive walls, and he knows like he knows his own name that if he chooses that road, he would go crazy from the inaction.

He’s also tempted to hold to his and the Commander’s original deal, to enlist in the Yuyan Archers as soon as he was of age, but that would severely limit the kind of action he could take to try to end the war. He’d still be perpetuating the Fire Nation’s crimes, and he knows that eventually the dissonance of his beliefs and his actions would drive him just as crazy as he would be if he was hiding in Ba Sing Se and doing nothing.

There’s only one thing for it, then.

This war has to end, Commander, he signs finally. I want to have a hand in ending it. Do you have any ideas on how to go about that?

The look on Commander Toshiaki’s face is one Zuko has never seen before, pride so fierce and joyful that it makes Zuko’s face and ears and the back of his neck burst into flame with the heat of his blush. Only Uncle Iroh (only Mom) has ever looked at him like that.

You honor me, my Prince, the older man replies, and bows with the Flame. Zuko returns it, feeling like a few of the missing pieces of his soul have finally clicked into place.

They stay up on the roof of the komodo-rhino stables until nearly dawn, hammering out plan after plan after plan for every contingency they can think of, and a few that Zuko hopes will never come to pass because if they do, then the entire world is screwed.

In the end, they decide that Plan A is for Zuko to continue on as he has been, and enlist in the Archers the moment he turns eighteen. With his extra four years of experience, he’ll shoot up the ranks, and hopefully make Captain and have his own Squad by age twenty, which will provide him with command experience. Once Azula turns eighteen and is crowned Heir Apparent, it’ll only be a matter of time before she decides to seize power for herself, and by then Zuko will be more than ready to challenge her for the Caldera Throne.

It means another four years at least of war, of his people suffering, and that chafes at Zuko like sand in between his toes, but as he steps up his training in firebending, in swordsmanship, and in archery and stealth arts, he contents himself with the knowledge that this is the most logical path to ending the war. He cannot face Ozai. Just the thought makes his entire body shake and his mind race like a mouse in a trap. Better to wait for Azula to make her move and avoid the Fire Lord completely than to risk freezing up and getting killed for the hesitation.

A few weeks after the rooftop… thing (revelation? discussion? conspiracy? conspiracy), Kai corners him in the farthest corner of the training yards, where Zuko likes to practice with his dao.

What the fuck is up with you? He signs, sitting on Zuko’s stomach after ambushing him into a mild wrestling match. Zuko’s slippery, but Kai has height and weight on his side, and their matches tend to end in draws more often than not, but this time Kai isn't playing. Zuko's arms are trapped against his sides by Kai's knees, and the older boy is pressing down with just enough weight to ensure that Zuko can't break free of the hold, and his expression is pouty and annoyed but his eyes are concerned. Zuko relaxes into the pin, and simply raises his eyebrow.

Kai rolls his eyes, and gets up. Zuko sits up and takes a few deep breaths, but otherwise doesn't move.

Well? Kai demands, signs sharp with impatience, standing on the balls of his feet as though ready to move at a second's notice. You've been so weird since we got back from Huzhen. Honestly, I expected the nightmares, I've had them too, but you've stopped going to the stables and the hawks and you barely talk to anyone! All you do is train, you barely even eat or sleep! What the actual fuck, Zuko?

Oops. Zuko winces, scratching the side of his head. He hadn't meant to get so wrapped up.

You're right, he signs. I'm sorry, I've had a lot on my mind recently

.Kai frowns, and settles himself on the ground directly in front of Zuko. Talk to me. Maybe I can help, or at least be a friendly ear.

Zuko barely has to think about it for a second. Kai is his best friend, his brother in everything but blood, and he trusts him even more than he trusts the Commander at times.

He explains everything. His identity as the (former) Crown Prince, the Agni Kai, his abandonment in the wilderness. How the massacre at Huzhen had made him realize what the war was doing to their country, to their people. How the Commander had known all of this time exactly who he was, and how the man is helping him in his conspiracy to commit treason by simply being alive and planning to take back his throne when his scheming sister makes her play for it.

Through it all, Kai's eyes never leave his body, taking in everything. There are several points where it looks like the older boy (older man, Kai is twenty now, and when on earth did they all grow up?) might interrupt, but he restrains himself admirably. His face is pure rage when he learns how Zuko got his scar, and again when Zuko describes the realization that he had been left for dead in the mountains, but he doesn't move. When Zuko is finished, his hands and brain exhausted, Kai sits for a few moments, eyes closed.

You know, I always thought it was weird that an obviously full-blooded Fire Nation kid just randomly showed up here, he finally muses. Especially one so obviously noble-blooded.

So you’re not mad? Zuko didn’t think he would be, Kai loves a good prank, but it’s always helpful to know where he stands so that there aren’t any surprises.

Kai chuckles silently, and digs a knuckle into the top of Zuko’s head. Dumbass, he signs, grinning crookedly, his eyes warm with affection. You were doing what you needed to do to survive. Nothing wrong with that. I was just worried about you— there’s all sorts of horror stories about bad reactions soldiers have to their first combat experience. I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to do anything stupid.

Thanks, Kai, Zuko signs, grinning.

I got your back, Prince Danger Noodle, Kai replies, winking at him.

With Kai in the loop, Zuko’s archery training takes off, as the older Private teaches Zuko everything he knows about hitting exactly where he aims every single time, no matter the conditions. They drill relentlessly, in any spare moment that Zuko’s not practicing his firebending or his dao.

The summer fades, and Zuko celebrates his sixteenth birthday by breaking into Shinu’s office, stealing the three massive jugs of baijiu the Colonel keeps there, and getting impressively drunk with Kai, Jiyoti, Min-Seo, and some of the other younger soldiers stationed at the Stronghold. He doesn’t remember much past the first several swallows, but he does remember it being one of the single best birthdays he’s ever had. Then the hangover hits in the morning, and he spends PT wishing that someone would shoot him and end his misery. Captain Hiroki and Commander Toshiaki are entirely unsympathetic, and Master Ryoichi gleefully pummels him in sparring, taking advantage of his infirmity to teach Zuko how to fight while impaired. It's grueling, and surprisingly vicious for the usually fair-minded Master, with any number of assailants jumping in and out at any given moment, but Zuko manages a pretty solid win, despite his spinning head and churning gut. Afterward, as Zuko sits on the side and wishes for a dark hole to crawl into, the Master announces that Zuko is a Firebending Master. Zuko responds by throwing up at the Master's feet.

Fall passes, and Zuko makes a consistent habit of breaking into the Stronghold's communications hub and reading every report he can get his hands on, with specific attention paid to the Fire Nation Army's movements in the Earth Kingdom. He learns everything he can, memorizes codes, locations, and personnel, some tiny, paranoid part of his mind urging him that no knowledge is wasted, even if it would be rendered obsolete within the next week. Despite obsolescence, no report is ever thrown away–– the hub contains scrolls dating back to Pouhai's founding as a frontier garrison in the very early days of the war, only weeks younger than the Yu Dao colony. It's here that Zuko encounters a written account of the Avatar legend, copied for posterity on the fiftieth anniversary of Sozin's attack on the Air Temples and then shoved in the back of the shelf and forgotten. Zuko skims it, reads maintains balance between the Four Nations, and finds himself wondering for a moment what life might have been like had the Avatar cycle not been broken. Then he shakes his head, replaces the scroll, and goes back to reading reports from the Southern Raiders.

On a freezing winter morning, as Zuko and his squad sit down to breakfast and tease Kai for still being half asleep, a herald reads a proclamation from the Caldera.

"The Avatar has returned, and is wanted alive for treason against the Fire Nation."

The mess hall is silent. Zuko nearly chokes on his tea. Unbidden, his eyes fly to Commander Toshiaki, who has gone white to the lips, but otherwise is composed.

The Avatar has returned.

This, Zuko thinks, as he listens to the silence break to the shattering sounds of all of his plans, changes everything.

Previous | Next

[shadowsfiguresfigments-blog]

A good place to die Chapter 25

Warning: Harsh language, violence

His jaws closed around me, swallowing me whole. Powerful muscles moved me further down his throat, driving my body against the myriad of teeth that sliced my skin. Pitch black darkness consumed me. As I was moved further and further down that fleshy tube, it didn’t stay dark, though; through the pain I noticed some sort of light slowly approaching me. In the emerging twilight I could see the little tentacles sprouting around me, eagerly sucking up the blood gushing from my open wounds. After several heartbeats, the light source finally came into my view, and I forgot everything around me, even the pain.

Three fiery, rotating orbs slowly approached me. They circled around each other in a mesmerizing dance, spinning faster and faster as they came closer. Their glow reflected off the yellowish teeth and the slimy pink flesh, casting a whirlwind of dancing shadows and rainbow reflections along their path.

It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever beheld.

The orbs radiated an incomprehensible otherworldliness that would have certainly frightened the living shit out of me if I had been able to be afraid. Distant cries and screams echoed all around me; however, I only perceived peace – it reminded me so much of my dream, when I had been engulfed in that warm, glowing bubble.

Finally.

I didn’t even notice the grin spreading across my face, nor the taste of my own blood in my mouth. Meanwhile the orbs where spinning so fast they melted into a fiery ring, ever growing before me, until it was big enough to fit all around me. When they reached me, I closed my eyes, perfectly at peace for the first time. I felt their touch on my face, an electric jolt of enormous proportions, and gave myself up as they flowed through the tears in my skin, burning their way into my core.

_____________________________________________________________

Of course, it wasn’t over – why would it ever be? The sensation only lasted for a heartbeat; then I was violently jerked backwards. The lights disappeared from my sight with superhuman speed, whilst the iron hard muscles crushed me as they pushed me backwards through the tube of flesh and teeth. That also meant the pain was back, the teeth not only slicing my skin, but digging deeper and further into me, slashing into my muscles, whilst the tentacle-like suckers writhed as if in extreme agony.

Fortunately it didn’t last long – it could only have been a few seconds – and I was spat out unto the cold concrete. The sensation of the hard ground and the freezing air came as an utter shock after the tranquility before.

A familiar wail filled the air. Disoriented and half-blind with blood and saliva, I crawled towards it, until my hands found the silk ruffles. I buried myself in them and felt them close around me, engulfing me in cool softness. Nestled deeply in the fabric, I was dimly aware of being moved at a ridiculous speed.

My eyes were still crusted with fluids, and the shock of what had happened left me only half aware of my surroundings. My nostrils and my ears worked just fine, however; and a familiar scent soon filled my nose. Together with the sloshing sounds it told me where I was – back in the Derry sewer system.

Home at last.

My broken body was gently lowered on a soft surface, and something warm and very wet washed over my face. Again and again it touched me ever so gently, until I could feel the grime and crust dissolve. Simultaneously the pain lessened and lessened, until it became more of distant thumping rather than a sharp burning.

The licking sensation now extended to my entire body, washing away all discomfort. I sighed and opened my eyes.

Penny loomed over me, his clown features barely recognizable beneath layers of my blood. His eyes had turned the deepest shade of orange I’d ever seen, but he didn’t radiate any aggressive energy. He was quite busy licking every inch of me, and his saliva had already closed most of the wounds, leaving only pink lines criss-crossing all over my skin. The tattered, crusty remains of my clothes were the only left-overs from his attempt to eat me.

I was still very much in shock – not from fear, but from being exposed to the unforgiving world after that tranquil place. Being born must feel the same way, I thought to myself. My hands reached out on their own, cradling Penny’s cheeks against them. His face slowly spilled out from between my fingers, and I sat up to pull him closer to me, to contain his melting form between my thin limbs. He was so big and there was so much of him; how could I possibly succeed? Still, I couldn’t NOT try to; even if I did my body wouldn’t have listened to me either way.

Between the aftereffects of the shock, the numerous substances I was covered in and Penny not having a solid form, I only realized after a while that the liquid running over my hands was neither saliva nor blood.

Penny was crying.

So was I, I discovered.

Like so many times before, I couldn’t tell in hindsight how long we stayed like this. Only when the feeling in my body was back to somewhat normal I dared to speak again.

“Are you alright?” It was a poor, pathetic attempt to tell him how worried I was, how much he meant to me, how sorry I was.

“I don’t know.” His voice echoed the same confusion I felt, somehow magnifying it because it was Pennywise who said it.

“Why… Why didn’t you eat me?”

No answer, though I felt it was because he truly didn’t know.

I tried a different approach.

“What were those lights?” Since Penny remained silent, I added: “They were so beautiful.”

His huge frame started twitching, and I realized he tried to get his form together. At last his eyes focused on me.

“Those lights… They are me. My true form.”

I traced my finger across his cheeks, gently stroking them.

“Well, I always thought you were handsome. So when they… when you touched me… What happened?”

Penny’s gaze drifted away, but I was sure he was only gathering his thoughts. After a while he sat up and cradled me against his chest.

“I don’t understand it, little one. Normally, seeing me… my true self… would kill you. You’d die of fear, and I’d absorb you soul and digest your flesh. But when I touched you, I couldn’t absorb you. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t; physically, if you will. And then all your emotions flooded into me.”

It took me a while to process that new information. I had always thought my lack of fear only meant he wouldn’t enjoy my taste, that eating me would be equivalent to forcing down some disgusting vegetables or something; not that it would make him throw up. What had been the most wonderful experience for me had made him sick.

I had made him sick.

“Am I… dangerous for you?”

“I don’t know, little one. Are you?” Though he cackled at the question, I could tell he was honestly wondering.

“I could never intentionally hurt you. I’m sorry for what I said before. I was frustrated.”

Penny reply was slow, as if he was testing out the words that left his mouth.

“I believe so was I, little one. I’ve never, in all the eons I’ve lived, ever experienced anything like this.”

“So, no one has ever seen your true self… and lived?”

“No…” Penny stopped, and his eye color changed once again, turning dark red.

“There once was a girl… She and her friends nearly killed me.”

I sat up and stared at him. Penny appeared to be just as shocked as I was, though perhaps for other reasons.

“You mean, a human did that to you? That a human was the reason you were so wounded when we first met?”

He nodded, looking away. He’s embarrassed, I realized.

“Wow.” I slouched back against him, wrapping his arms around myself. “No wonder you’d think of me as a threat. But Penny, I love you.” Again, the English language failed me in trying to convey my feelings. Still, he seemed to understand, because he rested his head on top of mine and sighed heavily.

“I love you too, little one. And I don’t want to eat you. Not because you’re not delicious, but because I don’t want to you to not be around.”

I chuckled at his curious way to express himself. Fortunately I wasn’t the only one struggling with words.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know.”

We sat in silence, both pondering what had happened between us. Finally, I found I couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer.

“So, we need to address three things, right? Firstly; your hunger – you haven’t fed since you woke up, right? Secondly, my life and my schedule – I got the opening coming up, I got Bee moving in and I need to finish school. Thirdly, our future together – whether you’ll go into hibernation again, and what I’ll do then.”

I could feel his nod, and finally, it was accompanied by merry bells jingling again. I had my Penny back.

“Until then, let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”

Again, he nodded; again, the bells jingled. I twisted around and pulled his head towards me. “In the meantime, why don’t we enjoy each other?” His low purr was answer enough. I closed my eyes and opened myself to him.

[that-good-trash]

Smile For Me

Shinsou x reader / Bakugou x reader

Warning: Hurt/comfort, angst, unrequited love, Happy ending!

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your whole life people told you to smile but nothing good ever happened when you did. Why did you have to have this quirk? After hiding what you could do you should've had a chance at a normal life, right? After a tough childhood you were to afraid to love so you let the love of your life slip through your fingers. Instead of chasing them you fall into the arms of someone who claims to love you but do they really?

Authors note: I know my summary probably sucks but trust me when I say this is a good fic, or at least I liked writing and rereading it. This is once again a total self indulgence fic for my own hurt/comfort simping heart. I hope you enjoy!

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“Smile darling, you’d look so much better with a smile.” You held your jacket closed with one hand while the other gripped onto your duffle bag strap tightly. You should be used to that comment by now, but it never failed to make you uncomfortable when a strange older man said it to you. God how you hated that phrase. Normal women hated that sentence but to you it held a completely different meaning; it was worse. The man’s laugh invaded your ear drum as he moved closer to your right side. You wanted nothing more than to use your quirk but that would mean giving him exactly what he wanted; a smile. You quicken your pace and wished you had taken a route home that was busier. You always went to the gym around this time to avoid crowds of people so of course not many people would be on the streets leading back to your apartment. You hoped that the man would stop following if you ignored him; he didn’t. You thought maybe he just lived or worked the same way; he doesn’t. You begged your heart to stop racing, for your hands to stop sweating, and for your blood to stop rushing. You didn’t want to overreact or panic because then he wins. “Where you goin sweetheart?”

His hand gripped your wrist finally making contact with you. You were panic stricken. The hair on your arms raised and you felt your blood run cold. You attempted to pull yourself free, but it was futile. You felt pathetic even though you knew what you were capable of. You knew how easy it would be for you to get away if you just did what he said; if you just smiled. You couldn’t give in. You yanked once more this time freeing yourself long enough to run a few steps before being caught again.

“Let me go!” His grip was much tighter, and he turned you around. His other hand wrapped around your throat as he slammed you against one of the walls behind you. You were so close to home, just a few blocks. You should have been more cautious but at the same time people shouldn’t be like him. You looked away from him with your eyes focusing down the block waiting for someone to appear so you can call out for help. Pathetic really but it was necessary. His breath was hot against your ear as he moved closer. He took a long whiff of your hair as his fingers pressed onto your throat harder. You chanced a glance at him which was a mistake. He was grinning ear to ear; he was finding pleasure in this. “Come on baby no one is coming to help you. Admit it, you wanted this to happen. Walking around in shorts like that, with your hair messy and sweat sticking to you. How could a guy like me resist? Oh, and the piece de resistance is your frown. A girl like you probably always smiles at the handsome good guys but not for guys like me. Well honey just know that you wouldn’t be in this situation if you just gave me the smile.”

You knew there was only one way out of this which involved going against your own personal rule and giving him what he wanted. You made eye contact with him allowing his sick violating stare to pierce through you. He was sporting a toothy grin. He was challenging you, waiting for you to make the next move. Your wrist was bruising from his grip and the fingers around your twitched slightly to remind you they were there. You waited once more for someone to save you, but no one came. You sighed letting your eyes meet his. He chuckled as your lips twitched upward. You could hear that inner voice of reason begging you to stop but you didn’t. Sometimes things had to be done in order to survive, to protect one’s self. You let the unfamiliar facial expression appear. Your smile was antique. Your teeth shimmered under the streetlight and for a moment you swore the man shed a tear. You were smiling and yet the only thing flowing through you was fear and regret for what would happen. The man holding you slowly felt a sense of euphoria. He felt himself losing all negative and aggressive feelings toward you. Those feelings were fast to change into ones of devotion and obsession. A single tear slid down your cheek and over your smiling lips that quivered. His eyes had glazed over with a foggy sheen and the only thing he cared about was what you wanted. You consumed his ever thought. Your throat felt like it had closed as you tried to speak.

“Let me go.” You had to smile despite the guilt you felt as the man instantly let you go. He would do anything for you if you asked. Hell, he would do anything for you if you didn’t ask. That was what your quirk did. You quickly pushed yourself away from the wall still keeping that false smile on. You wanted nothing more than to run but if you did, he would run after you. He would follow you blindly like a devoted worshipper. You walked toward him smiling while your heart clenched painfully in your chest. “Leave me alone, forever. Never bother me or any girl every again.”

With the command you left. Your wobbling legs leading you down the empty streets. Your gym bag you had been carrying felt heavier as you made your way home. You collapsed to the floor as soon as you crossed over the threshold. Your front door was locked immediately before you sobbed into the carpeting. Your shoulders shook as tiny gasps escaped. You did it again. You used your quirk even though you had promised yourself that you would never use it. Even if that meant living a life without smiling you would remain ‘quirkless’. It wasn’t your fault you had been born with such a manipulative powerful quirk and it wasn’t your fault you had to use it and yet all you could think of was the man holding you painfully while voices from the past whispered words of fear and disgust. You feel asleep curled in on yourself while elsewhere the new broadcasted information on a man who was found dead.

“We are told that the man walked in front of the truck with intentions to kill himself. He died on their way to the hospital. The last words he spoke to the EMT’s on the scene were ‘I did it for her. I did it for her.’.

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When you were a little girl your parents showered you in love. They took you everywhere, bought you anything, and never failed to tell you how much you meant to them. You were a little girl that always had a smile. A big wide childlike smile filled with happiness and wonder. Your giggle could be heard throughout the halls of your childhood home. Your father would chase you straight into your mothers waiting arms. You would giggle and squeal and tell your parent’s that you ‘wuv’d them’. They would tell you how much they loved you and you would tell them they have to love you forever. You told them to never leave you. Your father worked from home and your mother found it hard to leave you to go to work but she always promised you she would be back. If you asked for a toy it would be given to you. If you asked to play someone would play with you. You never questioned anything and neither did they. To anyone and everyone watching they just saw parents who love their child and a child who was loved. However, things changed when other people started paying more attention than your parents would like. You would smile at a store employee and they would follow you around talking about how cute you were. It was creepy. Other kids would surround you and fight over who got to hang out with you. You didn’t understand and just smiled through the strange occurrences never once questioning why they were happening. You were just a little girl with a glistening smile and the whole world seemed to swoon at it. To your parent’s you were quirkless. You hadn’t shown any sign of quirk use, so they just assumed you didn’t have one or that your quirk hadn’t come yet. No matter they still loved you if not loved you more for this. You were a bright child with a wonderful future ahead of you. You were.

“Your daughter bullied my son into giving her his toy. She probably used her quirk or something.” Your parents were baffled when your mother’s sister, your aunt, accused you of theft and bullying. You stood behind them with a quivering lip. You hadn’t stolen anything. You had asked your cousin if you could have his toy and he gave it to you. How could he lie and say you stole it? Your mother was concerned and tried to talk your aunt down while your father explained that you probably hadn’t meant any harm and that you couldn’t have used a quirk because you were quirkless. Your aunt wasn’t having any of it and forced your parents to give back the toy. You had cried but not because they took your toy. No because you felt like you had done something wrong. “It’s okay honey. We know that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

If only that was the last time, but it wasn’t. Soon enough more people and parents came forward with claims of manipulation from you. People saying you had made their child or themselves give you something or do something against their will. People made you out to be puppeteering monster. You were just a little girl confused and scared. Your parents had grown concerned and you had to watch their growing doubts arise. They were wary of you and no parent should be wary of their baby, their little girl.

“We brought in a specialist and it turns out your daughter has always had a quirk.” Your parents brought you in when you turned six to be reevaluated. You had been sat listening to the doctor tell your parents that you had a quirk which was confusing because you didn’t feel like you had one. You didn’t understand how it was possible for you to have a quirk that you weren’t aware of. Your parents were also confused but allowed the doctor to continue speaking. “This is going to be hard to hear but your daughter has been using her quirk on you for most of her life. Her quirk is not flashy or noticeable. It is actually very easy to overlook but has a very strong output. You see your daughters has an emitter type quirk. Usually quirks that fall under this category are those that can be used to manipulate, generate, or control things. There are plenty I can tell you about but for your daughter specifically it would seem to be more like a manipulation kind of quirk. You see what we have found during out assessment is that your daughters quirk activates when she smiles. When your daughter smiles directly at someone that person is put into a hypnotic trance that makes them listen to/only think of her. We tested this theory and had one of our employees approach her and ask her if she needed anything. She asked for water but didn’t smile. When given the water she smiled, and the employee’s eyes had a slight haze to them. They stayed in the room and played with her for around twenty minutes before we extracted them. They have still not stopped thinking about her even after being removed from her sight. This is dangerous because it means your daughters quirk has a lasting effect. I think since you are her parents that you have both been under more control of her quirk without any of you realizing. I explained and asked your daughter questions pertaining to her quirk and she seemed honestly confused so I do not believe that she meant harm or was at all aware that she was using a quirk. I think it would be good to have her monitored once a month to check her quirks acceleration to make sure no new features appear to accompany it and to also make sure she isn’t causing herself any harm. I would think this quirk is a mind control and obsession creating quirk and you both should be aware of the people in her life. This quirk could cause her to be kidnapped or worse. If there is anything you need, I am available on weekdays and my office is always open for phone calls even if I am not here to take them. I will try to help you both understand your daughter unique quirk as she grows older.”

The doctor was a nice man who truly wanted nothing more than to help you and your parents. He wanted you to thrive and for them to help you learn but that meeting created something that he caused unintentionally. Your parents didn’t bring you back like they were told to you. The day you left that office was the last day you truly knew what happiness was. Your parents avoided you as much as they could even going as far as leaving you alone. You remember being left alone often. Your father got a new job that had him out of the house and your mother started picking up more shifts. You were lonely and sad. The daycare where you had been going too no longer took you in. You didn’t know at the time, but your parents took you out of it to prevent you from using your quirk on people. You felt like a prisoner and the fucked-up part was you had no idea why they were doing this to you. One minute you were a loved child with happy parents and then you were an outcast with absent parents. Your mother and father had told you that smiling was taboo. If you felt happy or something was funny you were to cover your mouth or try to keep your lips pursed in a straight line or frown. The once brilliantly smiling girl was now a ghost of her former self. She no longer gave people those gorgeous teeth filled smiles. The ones where your eyes would be sparkling or closed shut while your little teeth were revealed beyond plump pink lips. You were the poster child of happy and loved and now you looked like a poster for abused foster care children. You had no smile left. When you played with kids, they bullied you for frowning and the few times you did smile created issues. People who became your friends would find out that you had a weird quirk and leave you. Your family wanted nothing to do with you. Aunts and uncles refused to have you at events. You wanted nothing more than to go back to before you had a quirk but when you cried and told your parents that they told you that you would have to be unborn then because you were one of the children born with their quirks. You hadn’t meant to hurt or manipulate anyone and yet you were constantly filled with guilt because of this revelation. Your parents were afraid that all the love and happiness they gave you was some kind of spell you cast on them. You wanted them to hold you, chase you, spin you around like they used too. They wouldn’t, not anymore. When you were ten, they announced their pregnancy and for the first time since your quirk diagnosis, they were happy. You cried tears of loneliness because you would truly be left behind. You had also cried tears of relief for them. You cried because your parents were finally happy but what about your happiness. You deserved to be happy too and for a moment you were again. While your mother was pregnant, she stayed home. You were able to see her and for the first time in a long time she would give you attention. You would mask up to cover your mouth and your mother could cuddle you while watching tv. You played games and got to read the baby in her womb stories. When your father would come home you would all be a family. That lasted 9 months. The moment your baby brother was born you meant less than nothing. Anything bad that happened it was blamed on you even if you had nothing to do with it. Your first day of middle school was ruined when your mother took you out of class to yell at you for leaving the front door unlocked because what if one of those psychos that you attracted had gotten in and hurt your brother. You let her yell at you despite how much it hurt. You were not welcome at home and unwelcome in class. Students found out what your quirk was and immediately you were untrustworthy. You were everyone’s scapegoat and the people you thought were your friends turned on you. You were considered a monster despite never using your quirk.

Everyone laughed at you when you applied to UA. You couldn’t be a hero with a quirk like your own and maybe they were right, but you needed to try. You wanted so badly to prove that you could be something. Something other than a villain. So, you busted your ass, got good grades, and tried as hard as you could only for robots to ruin your chances at the hero course. You were placed in the general education department and that sucked but it was still UA. Your parents hadn’t shown much interest in your life and if anything, they thought your dream was unrealistic. You didn’t care what they thought anymore. You brother was the only person who seemed happy for you. The day your moved out and into the dorms your brother hugged your leg with tears in his eyes. You remembered that was the only time you directly smiled at him. You remembered it so well because it was followed by your mother slapping you across the face for it. You left with shame and trauma along with your bags. Your father apologized but he didn’t seem to be hurt that you left. That was the last time you really had contact with them. UA was your home and you made a small group of friends. They liked you and they didn’t care what your quirk was. The day of the sports festival you watched Hitoshi Shinsou use his mind control quirk and almost win. You envied him as the crowds cheered and your classmates congratulated him. You wanted so badly for that to have been you. You wished that you had the courage to use your quirk, but you didn’t. You couldn’t use it in fear of what people would think. Instead you watched him with resentment.

“Your Y/n right?” You had been studying by yourself in the library when a girl from class 1-A approached you. She was smiling which made you sad that you couldn’t smile back. She pointed to the seat across and you nodded allowing her to join you. She sat down introducing herself as Momo Yaoyorozu. You listened to her talk about hero work before she asked you about your classes. You spoke with her before asking her why should have approached you to begin with. “Dang I guess I’ve been caught. You see I kind of like this boy in your class and was hoping you could talk to him for me.”

“Who?” The one thing you had learned while listening from the background was that people always wanted things when they were overly nice. You had known the moment a hero in the making approached you that there was an ulterior motive. Your classmate’s names and faces gathered behind your eyes as you tried to figure out who she was going to mention. You hadn’t expected who she chose. “Hitoshi Shinsou.”

You stared at her pink dusted cheeks and her twiddling hands. She had a nervous and embarrassed demeanor which was strange to see on someone who was usually so organized, calm and collected. You never changed expressions remaining blank. Your eyes searched hers for any hidden feelings beyond passion. Maybe this was a prank, but it wasn’t. This girl was honestly interested in Shinsou. The part of this situation that wrecked you was your own feelings for the purple haired boy. You had resented him; you had been jealous. Yet over time he opened up, and you returned the gesture. He made you feel safe and you boosted his confidence. Over that time, you had fallen for him. He made you feel like a person and he liked you without your quirk. He liked you for you. You could smile behind your hand and it felt nice because he would just tease you about being shy. How could you hand him over to a girl ten times better than you? That was the exact reason you decided to do so. She could smile for him; she could laugh freely and stand in the spotlight. All you knew how to do was stand in the background with your head down. He needed someone who could shine with him and that unfortunately wasn’t you. The smile he hid behind your scarf was noticeable and caused Momo to smile back excited. She thanked you when you nodded before she ran off. You found Shinsou training and for a moment you almost didn’t approach him. You almost left but you couldn’t do that to Kendo. Shinsou smiled at you like you had relieved him of stress. He jogged over to meet you. You gave a partial smile to the ground before looking at him. He tilted his head knowing that you were waiting to say something. You bit your tongue before letting it out. You told him about Momo’s crush and that lead to him staring at you. “What do you think I should do?”

Don’t go.

“You should give her a chance.”

Please don’t go.

“You both might be good for each other.” Shinsou ruffled your hair thanking you for the confidence and the information. He ran off to find Yaoyorozu while you stood there under the swaying trees. You smiled but it was broken. Your lips were curled inward as you sucked them in. You squeezed your eyes closed as a sob broke your sealed smiled. Your shoulders shook as your chest heaved. You would have thrown up if you had eaten earlier. You would have screamed if people wouldn’t hear you. There were so many things you wanted to do but all you did was stand there sobbing with the most ridiculous cracked smile. You had no idea that someone had witnessed the entire interaction between you and Shinsou and the aftermath. That same person would come to be important because they too felt the same way.

“Y/n!” Momo was running toward you. She thought the two of you were friends since she was dating your bff. You thought of her more as an acquaintance that was around more often than you’d like. She was holding a book that she had borrowed from Shinsou and you could tell exactly which one. You smiled remembering when he let you borrow it. You had circled your favorite line because he wanted to know. He never erased it, or at least you hoped you hadn’t. Momo waved her hand in front of you trying hard to get your attention. “Shinsou and I are going to this nice bookstore later and we wanted you to come with.”

Talk about deer in the head lights. You stood there petrified because for the last months you had been avoiding hanging out with them. You couldn’t think of an excuse and your hands were starting to sweat. For the first time in a long time you had contemplated removing the scarf and smiling. Smiling and telling her to leave you alone but you feared the consequences. You feared your own quirk so there was no way you were going to use it.

“She can’t, she’s already got plans.” You jumped when someone’s hand grabbed your shoulder and their voice echoed passed your ears. The person moved themselves, so they were standing right next to you. You glanced at them recognizing them from Momo’s class. You were confused but tried not to let it show. He was giving you an out and you made sure to take it. Momo was staring between the two of you with a curious look before she shrugged. “Okay, I didn’t know you knew each other. If you change your mind Y/n just shoot us a text.”

You watched Momo walk back the direction she came. Her hair bounced behind her and you couldn’t help but notice how amazing her figure was in the outfit she was wearing. Her hair caught the sun’s rays perfectly glimmering off it. She was beyond gorgeous and you were highly aware of how plain you were compared to her. You were caught up watching her that you paid no attention to your ‘savior’. Your eyes widened when he spoke up. “Your beautiful too.”

This statement had your head turning so fast you almost got whiplash. You looked into the harsh red eyes of Katsuki Bakugou. You had recognized him the moment you saw him. He was famous in this school. You hated gossip but you couldn’t go anywhere without him being mentioned. He had his own scars and trauma which to you made him human. Everyone spoke about him like he was an arrogant asshole or a villainous monster. You knew what words could do so as you stared at him you felt the need to repay his compliment. “You are more than just your strength Katsuki. You are a person with a heart good enough to help a person like me. Thank you.”

You never gave him a chance to respond, instead leaving him there shocked by your words. You let Katsuki’s words and kind action fuel your progress. You would continue to work hard and tried really hard to avoid being hurt by Shinsou and Momo’s relationship. It worked out well until you were invited to class 1’s dorm building for a little party. Only class 1 students of course but they made an exception for you and Shinsou. You couldn’t make an excuse and that’s how you had ended up leaning against the furthest wall you could find. A lukewarm drink sat inside the cup in your hand. You would have dumped it but that meant approaching the group. You stayed in the corner until Shinsou dragged you to the group. A large circle had formed on the floor and surrounding furniture. You felt your stomach drop as you laid eyes on the bottle sitting in the middle. You didn’t want to play this game. You couldn’t play this game. These people were strangers. Momo giggled as Shinsou pushed you down next to him. You groaned while everyone else chatted. The first spin was followed by plenty of other spins and kisses. As Sero kissed Kaminari’s cheek you noticed Bakugou. He was staring at the bubbly brunette Uraraka who was chatting with frog girl Asui. He looked, sad? You wondered why but you should have known at that moment he was the same as you. You watched the next couple kiss which had people in an uproar. That same brunette had leaned over and shyly kissed Midoriya. Everyone was watching them, but you were watching Bakugou. He looked like he was in pain but to anyone else he was just himself. He knew that look and it would appear on your face next as the next few spins led to Shinsou and Momo kissing. You watched and begging your body to go numb. It listened but the look was still there and Bakugou was the only one who saw it. However, while you watched them you couldn’t help but notice another person sporting the same look you and Bakugou had perfected. Shoto Todoroki was staring at Momo with his own grieving look. How pitiful you three were. Playing a fool’s game just to watch another person kiss the one we love. You sighed waiting for this to be over so you could leave. Had you known that the bottle was going to land on you than you would have left sooner. It wasn’t just the idea that the bottle landed on you that had you wanting to run away; it was the idea that the bottle was spun by Shinsou. He smiled at you and you couldn’t return the gesture. You weren’t embarrassed you were mortified that you had to kiss you crush in front of his girlfriend when he didn’t even love you. Shinsou moved closer until you could feel his breath against you. However, before his lips could meet yours someone had grabbed your shirt and yanked you over the circle. Your top half hovered over the bottle as the warm lips of Katsuki Bakugou molded with your own. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you including Shinsou who was the only one not smiling. You could hear people cheering and gasping which elicited a middle finger salute from the angry blonde. When Bakugou pulled away from your face he stood up pulling you with him. You couldn’t argue because you were still trying to process the kiss. The game proceeded with Kirishima taking over the next spin. You didn’t know this but Shinsou had watched you be dragged away feeling robbed of such an important kiss. You couldn’t speak, or at least find your words, until you were ‘safely’ in Katsuki’s room.

“What the heck was that?” You didn’t shout the words. They literally came out as a gently question. Bakugou stared at you before scoffing. You watched he sit on the edge of his bed. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wonder slightly taking in his room. It was warm and had little things here and there that you could tell were personal, that were Bakugou. “I kiss you then kidnap you and this is how you react?”

“You did do those things and yes I am not yelling or freaking out, but I do think my reaction is normal. At least normal to me. I just wanted a reason on why you did it. I don’t mean to pry but it seemed like you were watching Uraraka for a while and I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think you like h-” Bakugou’s hand clasped over your mouth and your eyes widened. He didn’t look angry instead his cheeks were slightly pink, and there was a look of melancholy behind his eyes. You would have smiled sadly but you couldn’t. Your scarf and mask remained at your dorm. You couldn’t risk hypnotizing him. Instead you tried to let your eyes show him sympathy. Your hand had gently pulled his away from your mouth. You held it though, his hand in your own. Your fingers brushed his knuckles soothingly. He sighed looking over your calm soft features. He recognized the exhaustion on your face. He knew it quite well himself. He had brought his free hand to your cheek before letting his thumb rub it. You were both trying to sooth the other with such light brushes. You looked into his eyes and wished you could smile. He watched your lips quiver and strain to not curl upward. “You never smile.”

“Your changing the subject.” You were quick to respond when he shifted the attention to you despite your calling him out on his obvious crush. He laughed and for a moment you felt comfortable. This boy was basically a stranger and yet you felt like you could breath. You felt like you could let your guard down. Bakugou had pulled his hand free from you and let his comforting hand fall back to his side before returning to the edge of his bed. You watched him pat the blanket and you shyly took the spot next to him. You both sat in silence. This quiet moment would live in your heart forever because it meant so much to be next to someone and have them not accuse you of manipulation. Bakugou felt similarly but instead of manipulation his was based on you not thinking of him as an aggressive asshole. “What are we going to do about that kiss? People saw it and I know it technically was a game, but you kissed me on someone else’s turn.”

“Who cares what those extras think. Maybe we should just let them believe that we’re dating. Maybe we should date.” You never looked at Bakugou. Instead you caught your reflection in the mirror and your cheeks matched his eyes. Your chest had stopped moving because, without realizing it, you stopped breathing. You knew that this could only end in pain but at the same time maybe your unrequited loves could make you fall in love with each other. You turned and looked at him. He was nervous regardless of how tough he tried to make himself seem. You clasped your hand over his eyes, and he growled in confusion. “What the hell are you doing.”

You had to cover his eyes to prevent him from seeing the huge smile that had appeared across your face. You leaned up to his face and placed a kiss on his nose. When you removed your hand from his eyes, he was looking at you intensely. You could only imagine what was going on behind the sea of red that was his eyes. While you wondered what he was thinking he admired your features. He couldn’t help but notice how your eyes, while sad and tired, still held so much warmth and were luminescent. His own eyes brought a lot of attention but your own were special to him. He loved how the lights in his room reflected creating stars in your irises. Your cheeks were still pink especially now that he was admiring your looks. You were nervous under his stare. He smirked at your nervous demeanor. You were a cute little mouse and he was a lion. His fierce stare and personality clashed against your faltering stare and meek personality. You would have been much different had your childhood continued happily. Now you were this shy secluded girl. Even though Bakugou had accessed you and admired you he could help but think of Uraraka. He knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help it. He liked her and she didn’t even spare him a glance. Her eyes always set on Midoriya. “Bakugou.”

“So was that nose kiss a yes.” You covered your mouth when a smile forced itself on you. You nodded and he sigh in relief. His hand ruffled your hair before he stood up walking toward the door. You followed him assuming the both of you would be leaving. He smirked and caught your wrist before pulling you against the door. Your back hit it eliciting a gasp from you. The gasp was swallowed up by Bakugou’s lips. This moment was also one that you held onto. This may be the past, but this kiss was what you considered your first and favorite one. Your hands held into his shirt hoping for this to never end. One arm trapped you against the door while the other held into you. His hand held your waist. You wouldn’t have cared if the world ended at that moment and yet he felt different. He wanted to do this a million more times. He wanted to continue to love so your both could grow. You were both under the spell of love, but it was true yet. You were both bandaging the wounds your hearts had created when the people you yearned for chose someone else. No matter how things ended you both promised that day that you would never break the others heart because that kind of pain was unbearable and should never be given if it can be avoided. That was also the day that Shinsou waited for hours for you to return to the door only for Bakugou to walk you back. You were covering it, but he could see the smile you had. Shinsou didn’t understand why he was angry, nor did he understand why his chest felt tight as Bakugou kissed you goodnight and you giggled waving bye from the front steps of the building.

Things changed in your life fairly quickly after Bakugou and you had started dating. You had made friends which seemed impossible for you. People laughed and chatted with you and not once did they judge you for covering your smile. Bakugou wanted you to be apart of his life and introduced you to his squad. They fell for you instantly. Mina loved everything about you. She clung to you and was always there even when you didn’t know you needed her. Kaminari was a little overwhelming and on more than one occasion he got himself burnt for flirting with you or pushing you to smile. Sero and you had gotten close. He would go with you to book and music stores where the two of you would be found by the rest of the squad hours later. You would text him philosophical questions at 2am and he would always respond. The dark circles under your eyes the mornings after always had Bakugou scolding the two of you. Kirishima was Bakugou’s best friend and you loved him for that. He was the best support system for the angry blond, and you thanked him all the time for being there. Kirishima was wholesome and could never do anything wrong. These people were your family basically which meant so much to you since you didn’t have family anymore.

A year into your relationship you told Bakugou about your quirk. He was confused at first and wanted you to demonstrate it but after you started panicking, he apologized and reassured you that you didn’t have to use it. It was the biggest relief to have someone finally understand your quirk and still love you regardless of it. In that same year Shinsou had ‘upgraded’ to the hero course and you saw less of him academically. In your everyday life he was highly present. It was almost weird how often he was around. He was in class A so you saw him whenever you would go over to see your friends and Bakugou. He would talk with you even if Momo was waiting for him. You almost felt like you had done something to manipulate him, so you tried to avoid him. You had no clue, but it broke his heart watching you be happy without him. He came to eventually realize that he loved you. While Momo held onto his arms, when she would smile lovingly, while she spoke words of endearment, he was thinking of you. It was truly cruel and yet he had that in common with someone. Someone who had a year to forget and yet never did. Bakugou loved you, he worshipped you. Hell, he would kill or die for you. So why did he find himself hurting when Uraraka started dating Midoriya. Why did he watch her with eyes filled with unrequited love? He wondered if she was happy. He would see something and think of her. It was cruel because while he watched her, he loved you. While you were the one under him some nights, he couldn’t help but think of Midoriya doing the same thing to her which on more than one occasion pissed him off. He knew it wasn’t fair to you, so he never told you. He never had to tell you. You knew that he still loved her and yet your clung to him anyway. You heart would sometimes clench but never did it break. He never hurt you intentionally and you never told him when you felt hurt. Instead you loved a man who loved a girl but also loved you while another man loved you but pretended to love a girl. Which brings us to her.

It was your third year, so close to graduating. Both you and Bakugou had still been dating and yet you felt like you were only hurting him by not being Uraraka. You knew he loved you, but it was still hard to have to live being compared to her even if he wasn’t doing so out loud. You had contemplated using your quirk, but you couldn’t. That wouldn’t be true love, but you weren’t really sure this was either. You had another friend that you had told your insecurities to. Shoto Todoroki, he had been there the day you and Bakugou got together. You had witnessed the pain in his face as he watched the woman, he loved kiss Shinsou. After that day you had made an effort to befriend him and it was hard but worth it. You and Shoto had so much in common. You both resented a part of you, both had trauma from your past, and you both pined after someone who didn’t love you. It had been like a club. You had even told Shoto about your quirk in which he asked you why you didn’t use it on Shinsou. He hugged you when you cried explaining how you couldn’t do that because it wasn’t real. It was that same fear you had with Bakugou. Shoto understood and dropped it. You watched Shoto try to win Momo’s love, but he seemed to continuously fail. You wanted to help him and that lead to you stalking Momo. This was a mistake. If only you knew what would happen you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. Momo wasn’t in love with Shinsou like she claimed. She was in love with the same man that desperately loved her. She was in love with Shoto Todoroki. You felt like you had the chance to do right. You knew it wasn’t fair to Shinsou, but you didn’t think of him. You waited and made moves. You dropped hints and made Momo spend more time with Shoto. You felt like cupid and technically you had the arrows. It was just a power that never caused good.

“Y/n, can I please ask your help with something.” Momo stood in front of you with a nervous demeanor. You were afraid that you had been caught but she didn’t seem mad. Instead she seemed, sad? You held her hand and made her look at you. “What do you need Momo?”

“Can you use your quirk on me.” You felt the world stop. It was so abrupt your legs shook as if they were going to collapse. You had never told her about your quirk which made you wonder how she knew. You let her hand go and started to back away which led her to frantically grab your hands. She held onto them like her life depended on it. You were so scared. Tears had flooded your eyes and you so badly wanted to run away. “Please hear me out. I heard your quirk is like mind control. If you tell me to do something, I will do it. I know this sounds selfish and horrible, but I need you to tell me to do something. I haven’t been able to find the courage to do it so please. Please help me.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t do that. I can’t use my quirk. Momo whatever you need it for you can do on your own trust me. I cannot help you.” You had tried desperately to remove her hands from your wrist, but she wouldn’t budge. You stopped trying when she fell to her knees sobbing. This brilliant strong hero was on her knees crying for you to help her. She was begging you through quivering lips. You couldn’t let her feel this much pain. She truly wanted your help and you would give it to her. You pulled her back to her feet before hugging her. She hugged back and you could feel your heaving chest. When you pulled away, she wiped at her eyes. “I don’t love Shinsou. I know that sounds horrible, but I don’t. I did but I haven’t for a while. I actually love.”

“Shoto.” She looked surprised but that faded into a friendly smile and a nod. She didn’t have to ask you how you knew. She had seen you with him quite often and assumed you were watching her. She was always staring at him. Like a certain blond stared at a bubbly brunette. “He loves you.”

“I know. He told me. That why I’m here. I chickened out and ran away. We are about to graduate, and I can’t let him go. Please, just tell me to admit my feelings for him. I don’t really care how you do it. I just want to love him as much as he loves me.” You knew that last part was impossible. You knew that because the one thing you and Shoto had in common was yearning and loving someone regardless. You both loved with no strings attached and would always love while the people around you just hurt you or ignored your feelings. They would be happy and love each other but he would always love her more because he chose her to begin with. You wiped a tear off your cheek before slowly smiling at Momo. She smiled back before her eyes fogged over. She awed at you and smiled with so much love for you. You shook your head holding her cheek. “Momo, you have to do me a favor. You must tell Shoto Todoroki how much you love him. You have to cherish him and love him with all your heart. I want you to be happy and make him happy. Momo Yaoyorozu go to him.”

You watched with a sad smile as Momo ran off to fulfill her duty. You laughed while crying tears of joy and pain. You wished you could have seen the look on Shoto’s face when Momo confessed. You wished you could have heard them tell each other how much they love each other. You wished that you got to see them holding hands as they graduated but you didn’t. At that moment all you saw was Bakugou staring at you. You gasped and your smile was gone in a second. You smiled with your eyes while internally screaming and begging that he hadn’t seen it happen. He walked toward you but there had been something different about how he walked. He wasn’t smiling, he looked frustrated. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. His hands grabbed your arms painfully eliciting a groan from you. His piercing red eyes searched your own before falling on your lips. “I saw what you did. I saw everything. You can control people. You can make her love him?”

“Katsu please don’t.” You begged but he didn’t listen. You knew where this was leading, and you had no control over what would happen. “Katsuki I don’t want to do this.”

“This whole time you could have made me love you. You could have taken these fucking shitty feelings I have for her and made them go away. One fucking smile and I would have been yours completely and never thought twice about if I loved you and yet you didn’t. WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU DO IT.”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! Because you love her, and I just wanted you to love me unconditionally without using a quirk to make it happen.” You were both breathing heavily. Your heart was teetering, and you urged it not to fall. You didn’t know what you would do if it shattered. Bakugou let you go and walked backward. His hands tangled into his hair as he groaned in frustration. He looked at you and you didn’t want him to speak. You mentally begged him to drop it to let it go but you knew the words were sitting on his tongue. “Why couldn’t you make her love me.”

“BECAUSE SHE IS HAPPY WITH HIM AND BECAUSE I LOVE YOU. I loved you.” A smile graced your lips, but it held nothing but sorrow. Tears linger on them and you could taste the salt. You smiled and laughed painfully. Your heart had fallen and your felt every splinter and crack that it received. You coughed as sobs escaped. You heard Bakugou curse before he was on his knees. You hadn’t even realized that you were on the ground screaming into the cement until he was trying to get you up. You just kept laughing like a maniac, but the laughs were actually sobbing, and your smile was one of the worst things Bakugou had ever seen in his life. You pushed him away and screamed for him to leave you alone. He stood up confused on why he was listening and that’s when he realized. Your smile. You smiled sadly at him. “Leave me alone Bakugou.”

“I’m sorry Y/n.” He got the words out before leaving you to sob into the ground. No one was around to listen to your painful cries and even if they were no one could help you now. You had finally lost everything all because of this horrible quirk. You needed to leave and so you did. After that day people looked for you but no one found you. Your teacher told everyone that the school allowed you to test out early and receive your diploma. You had done so and left everything and everyone behind. Your number changed and everyone was left wondering what happened the day you disappeared. Only four people knew what happened that day. Shoto and Momo looked for you for weeks. They even hired someone, but that person never found you. You were a ghost. Bakugou knew what he had done. He cried every night and blamed himself every day. He texted your phone every hour how much he missed you and how much he was sorry, but they never made it to you. The squad begged to know what happened, but they never received the truth. Shinsou had found you, after Momo broke up with him. You were screaming on the floor. He approached you but at some point, he couldn’t get closer. You were smiling and he watched your lips. He heard you screaming for everything to leave you alone. You begged for the pain to stop. It was confusing his body and the commands contradicted each other. You had no clue he stood behind you pleading mentally for the ability to move. To grab you and hold you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead he walked away. He left you against his own will. He wished he could have broken through your quirk. He wished he could have saved you, but he couldn’t. No matter how much he wished he knew he couldn’t change anything. When you left Shinsou went to Bakugou and punched him. He beat Bakugou and the blond never fought back. Instead he let Shinsou hit him until blood dripped down his teeth and out of his nose. Bakugou laughed while staring up at Shinsou. He wasn’t being cocky. No, he was hurting physically and mentally but he wanted someone else to be hurting too. “She loved you. That day we played spin the fucking bottle she would have kissed you, but I couldn’t let her destroy herself. Shitty huh since I ended up destroying her, but your no angel man. She loved you and I took her because you didn’t even give her a chance.”

Everything had changed so fast and so terribly but there was some good in there. You had felt what love was when you were with Bakugou. You were able to be Shinsou’s friend. Not just his but a friend to so many. Why had you run away? Why couldn’t you have just made up? Well you did eventually. The first time you saw everyone again was a year after graduating. A little envelope in your hand held the key to reuniting. The event was a wedding. A spectacular wedding for two people who loved each other beyond anyone’s comprehension. They were the true MVPS of love. Two people who never once had to question the others loyalty or passion. They were always in love despite hardships. Ochaco and Izuku Midoriya. The two were meant for each other and you smiled behind the sheer scarf around your neck as you had entered the building, they were having their reception. Everyone recognized you immediately and there were so many tears. You had to keep reminding people that it was the married couple’s day not yours. The Bakusquad would not let you out of their sight and they forced you to give them your current phone number. People were baffled that you were still in the area because no one ever found you. Some people had asked what had happened, but they didn’t pry when you brushed it off. The person you hadn’t expected to see stood in front of you when it was time for dancing. Bakugou stood with his hand held out to you. You never hesitated when taking it. The two of you twirled and spun in silence but there were unspoken words surrounding you both. Words that didn’t need to be said for them to be understood. Eventually the dancing ended for you both and you were found leaning against a marble column with Bakugou sipping champagne next to you. You smiled behind the scarf and giggled. Bakugou raised a brow before looking at you. “What are you laughing about?”

“Somethings never change do they. You’re still watching her as if she raises the moon and the sun into the sky. Katsuki one day you’ll have to let her go.” You didn’t wait for him to respond before leaving him. You found yourself once again twirling from classmate to classmate until you stumbled into someone’s arms. “Careful.”

“Thank you.” You turned to find your eyes lost in lavender ones. Shinsou was smiling at you like he had just won the lottery. You smiled back unintentionally before quickly moving to cover your mouth. He caught your hand and held in gently in his. You were frozen as he asked you to dance. You nodded and he led. With Bakugou you watched everyone dance around you but with Shinsou you felt like only you two existed. His eyes never left your own and his smile never faltered. When the music changed, you both were brought back into the real world. Your flushed cheeks gave away your embarrassment. He was still able to make you flustered even after so long apart. Somehow the two of you spent the rest of the wedding together just in each other company. Not many words were said until it was time to go. Everyone wished the married couple the best before departing. You stepped out into the cold to hail a cab but never got a chance. A jacket was draped over your shoulders and it smelled like pine and cloves. It smelled of Shinsou. He stood behind you with that same smile. “Let me take you home.”

“Shinsou.” His name left your lips before his own pressed against them. It happened so fast that you felt like were going to faint. His arms encircled your waist and he held you against him. He pulled away and looked at you. He searched your face for any sign that you felt the same way but all he got was tears and a quivering lip. You tried to pull away, but he held you in your place. Some classmates asked if you were okay in which you waved them away. Shinsou watched your lips move. You were holding back a smile. He leaned forward and kissed you again which was returned with a slap to the face. He hissed and his hand held the swelling cheek. You turned to run off, but he caught your wrist. “I know I don’t deserve to say this, but F/n L/n I love you. I should have told you back at UA, but I didn’t realize until it was to late. I have held onto these feelings in the hopes of one day getting to tell you. I love you and I will always love you. Please smile for me Y/n.”

He knew that you were holding back. You were crying and wanted so badly to smile and let him hold you. You wanted to let yourself be loved but you were afraid of getting hurt. You were afraid and yet as he looked at you, you felt a love that even Bakugou couldn’t give you. He meant ever word. You believed him but that didn’t mean you would smile. Not for him or anyone. You shook your head biting your bottom lip. Shinsou was quick to pull you back into his arms. He held your face against your chest not caring if your tears soaked his shirt. He didn’t care about anything other than you. “I can’t smile for you Shinsou. I can’t risk what it might do, what you might do for me.”

“Smile Y/n. Smile and never stop smiling for me. You don’t have to hid when you are with me. I love you more than your quirk could ever make me. No quirk is going to make me love you more than I already do. You can smile and I will still be the same Shinsou. I promise you. I will never question if I love you or if it’s your quirk because I already know its me. It’s my own love that I have had for you even before I knew what your quirk was. I love you and I always will.” You pulled yourself free and looked into Shinsou’s own wet eyes. You could barely make out his teary eyes and pure smile through your own tears. Shinsou was able to break through the wall you had put up to protect yourself and others. You smiled at him. You smiled like that little girl had when her parents held her and told her they loved her. You smiled with gleaming teeth and red plump lips. You smiled despite the tear stains on your cheeks. Shinsou smiled back and kissed you over and over. “I love you Hitoshi Shinsou.”

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

When you woke up the floor was no longer underneath you. A large comforter was over your body and the plush mattress you shared with your boyfriend was under you. You had been put in bed at some point in the night which meant Shinsou was home. You pulled the blanket over yourself before walking to the living room. Shinsou was sitting on the couch reading a book while drinking coffee. You smiled and walked toward him. He smiled back and opened his arms. You climbed into his lap snuggling your head against his chest. “Had a rough night kitten?”

“Bad guy tried to hurt me, took care of it.” You were still half asleep when speaking. You left out the gritty details and the part where you came home and cried yourself to sleep. He kissed your eye lids which meant he already knew. He clicked on his phone and read a news article about the man’s suicide. Before you could panic, he rubbed your back soothingly. “You’re a hero, that man was a serial rapist that the police hadn’t been able to catch. You saved a lot of girls and helped avenge a lot too. You did what was necessary so don’t punish yourself; that’s my job.” He winked at the end which had you rolling you eyes. You got off his lap pulling him up so you could drag him to bed. You had his praise linger in your ears. A hero, what a nice change. You smiled before stumbling slightly causing Shinsou to laugh before catching you. He swept you into his arms eliciting more giggling from you. “Come on tired kitten, we gotta get some rest for the big wedding tomorrow. You are the guest of honor.”

On the kitchen counter sat a wedding invitation personalized for you. On it was a beautiful story about a fairy godmother who helped bring a princess and prince together. The story was about you bringing together the bride and groom, Momo and Shoto. They made sure every invite mentioned your tying their red strings of fate. You thought it was over the top and outlandish, but you also cried and felt so happy for them when you received the invite. Shinsou had held you as you sobbed because you felt like you had used you quirk for good.

“You’ll have to send them a sappy invite to our wedding.” You laughed before freezing in his arms. You quickly looked at his face as he sat you down on the bed. He chuckled at your wide-eyed stare. He got down on one knee before pulling out a little black box. He looked into your eyes and smiled as he spoke. “Will you marry me F/n L/n?”

“Yes Shinsou, Yes, a million times yes.” You cried as you nodded aggressively. You ignored the ring as you launched yourself into his arms. Shinsou kissed you before laughing. “You didn’t just say yes because of my smile did you.”

“Shut up.” You kissed him after rolling your eyes at his joke. The most important thing was your smile, the one that never faltered for a moment.

[spideyyroos]

are you kidding me? - peter parker (soulmate!au) - part 3

pairing: peter parker x stark!female!reader

summary: during your everlasting rivalry against peter parker, you’re unlucky enough to find out that not only is he spider-man (your dad’s new kid), but he is also your soulmate. god help us all. (soulmate au where you have a mark of where your soulmate first touches you)

word count: 2511

requested: yes!

warnings: language, slight angst, stab wound

a/n: GUESS WHOSE BACK BACK BACK BACK AGAIN!!! hey guys! sorry i’ve been mia recently, school has really been piling up on me and i pushed off this part for so long! tbh i think this is gonna be slightly slow burn?? i don’t want to rush anything oof. hope you guys like it :)) 

THE NEXT DAY

As both Peter and Y/N made their way to school, they communicated to one another on how they should act and when they should tell their individual friends about the whole soulmate ordeal. For the time being, they decided to still hate each other at school--which, technically, they still hadn’t been too fond of each other ever since the previous day. Y/N, being the more stubborn of the two, couldn’t push aside the decade-long rivalry between her and Peter. She was still in denial that he was her soulmate, the one who she would spend the rest of her life with. 

Chewing on her lip, Y/N thought about her future with Peter in it. She always knew that he would stick around in her life but never where. After the almost-kiss that they shared last night, she muted her thoughts from him, not wanting to distract while fighting crime. As she did so, she wondered why she cared about the well-being of the boy, not just in academics.

-at Midtown-

As Peter and Y/N made their way to their first period, they cautiously stood at different places from one another when passing through the hallway. Thankfully enough, Ned found Peter and they weaved their way into their history class. Y/N found herself in the class moments after, taking a seat in the back corner to ensure that she could take a nap for the period.

Y/N had always prepared ahead of time for the classes she decided to take naps in. Her phone was programmed to pick up what the teacher was saying during the lecture; later, Y/N would listen and add extra information to her notes (a/n: i suggest this highly; it works super well! :)).

When the lecture started, Y/N was out like a light. She got plenty of sleep the night before, but still preferred to be asleep. Peter, who sat across the room, tried to focus on his notes, but felt the strong urge to stare at her. Similar to Y/N, Peter felt hesitant to feel affections toward his usual enemy. Ever since yesterday, he cringed at how the two treated each other. 

Needless to say, these circumstances were more than overwhelming.

-lunch-

After their fifth period Spanish class, Y/N and Peter walked side by side in the hallway. Before they knew it, Flash called out at Peter.

“Hey Penis Parker! What are you doing, flying out of your league?” 

“And what would you know, Flash? Last time I checked, your homecoming date left you in the dust to go and grind with some other egotistical prick.”

Flash’s jaw dropped at Y/N’s words and Peter covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Y/N turned around to face Flash, deadpan--clearly unamused by his ever so endearing nickname for Peter. Then, as if in some world-turning moment, she realized that she had just defended her rival.

Nobody knew that they were soulmates just yet.

She couldn’t let that happen--not now at least.

However, before she could make an excuse for standing up for Peter, Flash suddenly changed his target of ridicule.

“Aw, I’m sorry babe. Do you have a personal score to settle with Lindsey? Or, better yet, come over tonight and we can,” Flash continued to advance towards her and corner Y/N onto a locker, “make up for lost time.” Flash was face-to-face with Y/N, expelling his hot breath over her face. Although Flash was yet another person who knew how to make Y/N’s skin crawl, she decided to swallow the vomit coming up her throat and let herself be “enchanted” with the king of douches.

“Umm...you sure have a way with words, handsome,” Y/N’s mind was screaming at her to kick him in the nuts, but her pride didn’t allow her to let up and run to her only safe space--Peter. She feigned a gleaming smile, letting it hit her eyes. Flash only smirked at his supposed “power” over women, though it repulsed anything that walked--no, breathed--on this very earth. Y/N continued to keep this act up by biting her lip and forcing herself to eye his lips, misshapen and topped with peach fuzz for a mustache. It sent her back to last night with Peter, and she mentally sunk into thoughts of the blessed day when she’d put her guard down and allow herself to love him--woah, wait...what the fuck?

Just as she was about to dwell on her absurd thought, she felt the disgustingly warm body heat in front of her being ripped away and an angry Peter now in front of her. His back was facing her and he held his death grip on Flash, who now looked scared as all hell, was panting from the sudden movement and wide-eyed.

“How about we don’t do that?” Peter threatened, gritting his teeth and shooting daggers at Flash. Y/N walked directly behind Peter and performed the trick as old as time: playing with the angry boy’s hair to calm him down. As she laced her fingers through his wavy hair, Peter fell victim to the affection. He let go of Flash, freeing him to run away from the previously seething Peter--not sparing to look back at the nerd who once could never have the heart to kill a fly. 

Y/N grabbed onto Peter’s shoulder and turned him around, hand still interlocked within his curls. Peter’s expression showed pure relaxation, contradicting the near-death that he could have caused. They looked into each other’s eyes, once again letting the rest of the world slip away. Thank God that everyone else had cleared the hallway and went their own ways to the cafeteria. The young Stark filed her hand through his exceptionally soft hair--what conditioner do you use? They chuckled, knowing that only these two could see into her comedic genius. Peter’s eyes wandered her face, taking in her features and mentally noting small details that he would’ve never noticed beforehand. He suddenly cupped her face with his hands and went to lean in, only for Y/N to abruptly rip her contact from him.

“Peter--”

“I’m sorry--”

“Can we just give...give whatever this is--a moment to breathe? Jesus, it’s been a day and now I have to make sure that no one ever hits on me because God forbid Spider-Man’s soulma--” Peter’s hand clamped over Y/N’s mouth, eyes wide and desperate for her to shut up.

“I’m sorry, ok? Now will you stop talking before someone hears?” Y/N shoved his hand off her mouth and made a beeline towards the exit, not dealing with anymore of this bullshit.

Y/N, frustrated and fed up, went home to the complex--this, and she swears by it, was by far the worst week of her life. She wished that she wasn’t so difficult, that she could have been dealt a different soulmate, that she could start over, that she could be anywhere else but here. She made an effort to ignore his thoughts and mute her own. She didn’t want to be burned again. She has always pined after the well-deserved love and freely gave her heart to the people who gave her half-assed compliments--believing that each time would be different. Yet time and time again she would be let down, until she had enough. She sealed her walls with super-glue and rejected any form of genuine interest in her well-being. 

-at Avengers complex-

4:56

Peter tried to busy himself with expanding his patrol area, patrol hours, and homework--anything to avoid facing the obvious. He may as well be dead to her, right?

God, no! Don’t ever say that. Just--give me time, alright? This is just...a lot.

Look--we’re adjusting right now. Us even talking is already some sort of sign that we can try to get along. I know you’d prefer to stay at the very least 6 feet apart but--fuck, I’ll be honest--ever since we…connected I’ve been able to see you in a different light--

--pretty sure that’s called being horny--

--will you just...you know what? No. You don’t get to find out what I was going to say. Are you happy now?

Y/N didn’t respond. She just laid on her bed, aggressively staring at her window, hoping that he just might swing by.

It wasn’t long until she felt a searingly white hot pain on her left side. She screamed out in her room, trying to haphazardly relieve some of this unbearable punishment of having a superhero as a soulmate. Tears blurred her vision and she clutched her side, unable to move in fear that she would break her entire body. With as much effort she could put out, she reached for her suit tracking device--jesus christ, what the fuck happened to him?

Y/N saw the spider icon deep in the streets of Queens, at one of the many Mom and Pop restaurants. She saw an update on the suit condition:

OPENING ON LEFT SIDE - COULD BE KNIFE WOUND?

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

Y/N received a crisp punch to her right cheek, wincing and letting the new tears fall over her face. She tried to stay strong, despite everything hurting so much. She pressed “NOTIFY POLICE” on the device and curled into a ball, hoping the pain would stop soon. Just as she thought it was over, a square kick to the stomach almost caused an upheaval of her last meal. Stars taking over her vision, she fell unconscious onto her bedroom floor.

-meanwhile-

Peter has had his fair share of difficult and strong criminals, but damn! This group was one for the books. Not considering the soulmate tie between himself and Y/N, he fought the band of robbers and took each hit as a grain of salt.

Peter, are you okay? Please get out of there as soon as you can! I’ll call the police right now--OW!

“Oh shit--” Peter mumbled, allowing himself to get punched in the face by the one of the last men standing. Easily knocking him out with his special “pow, pow, POW” combo, as Peter liked to call it.

Unfortunately, before he could safely escape the scene, with the criminals webbed up against the wall, the final “stupidhead” (once again, as Peter liked to call it) attacked him with a swift kick to the stomach.

Shit.

Peter heard the sirens nearly a block away, so he opted to avoid any more conflict by webbing the kicker against the ceiling of the restaurant--stealing away into the city and on the way to the complex.

He remembered the backpack that was so secretly plastered next to the window of Y/N’s bedroom and was quick to change into his street clothes. Practically breaking into her bedroom, Peter was instantly at Y/N’s unconscious side--did her body show where he got hurt also?

Unsure if he was throwing away all of Aunt May’s well-taught respect and manners of “don’t put your hands on a girl unless she says you can and she wants you to,” Peter lifted her shirt to check if she was stabbed as well. Fortunately, either soulmate can have the sensation of pain--not the actual injury itself.

Y/N woke with a start, breaking her eyelids open to see Peter lifting her shirt to check the left side.

“What are you doing?” Y/N flinched away, tearing the material out of his hands.

“I’m sorry--I was checking if you were okay--”

“--people don’t check under other people’s shirts--wait. Am I stabbed?” Y/N went to check herself, only to double take at Peter’s blood stain growing larger by the second.

“Oh my god--stay right there, ok? I’ll go get a first aid kit--holy shit…”

Peter chuckled at her antics, but winced as he realized that...I got stabbed and it’s an open wound and now I’m laughing and oh my god--

“Ok, holyshitok--lay on my bed, please. Lay on your side, with the wound facing me. Also, please take off your shirt,” Y/N took a deep breath, preparing the sutures to properly address the injury. She concentrated, despite her hands shaking horribly. 

“This is going to feel even worse than when I start to sew but you can grab onto something if you need,” Y/N softly spoke, ready to clean, with alcohol, around where the knife had tore into his flesh. Peter nodded, unsure what he could grab onto without breaking her concentration. He opted for her bedsheets, which were slightly wrinkled and smelled like the expensive detergent that often surrounds Y/N--what? Why am I--

Y/N hummed in content and smiled to herself as she finished disinfecting and started to sew. Although Peter was used to his clumsy hands dangerously stitching together his deeper injuries, Y/N’s precision and patience to ensure the least amount of pain almost...put him at peace. She would glance over at him to reassure herself that he wasn’t passed out--though that would make the situation far less intimidating. Here he was, Peter Benjamin Parker, shirtless and occasionally bleeding (though it was far less than before), on Y/N M/N Stark’s bed. When she wasn’t looking at him, Peter would steal glances at the young Stark, appreciating her calm nature in such a scenario like this. On the other hand, when he wasn’t staring at her, Y/N would give a side eye to Peter--who was focusing on the small design on the bedsheets. He recognized the R2-D2 and C-3PO duo that continued across the dimensions of the mattress, tracing the dark outline of each character.

“Ok, I’m almost done. I just need to apply the gauze and the skin adhesive,” Y/N stated, quickly exiting the room to go fetch the proper dressings.

When she came back, Peter was still in the same position--but with stilled breathing and relaxed muscles.

Oh my God, he’s asleep. At least the hard part’s over--I think.

Y/N finished the full treatment for the wounds, briefly waking Peter up to tell him to get changed into some loungewear. He barely obliged, grumpy from having been woken up from his short nap. He pouted like a toddler, wanting to return to the “comfy bed with the nice blankets.” Y/N did her best to not laugh, admiring the adorable nature that came with him. He returned to the bed and Y/N made sure that he was comfortable enough without laying directly on top the wounds. She tried her best to be a better person and reluctantly played with his hair, hearing a small “thank you” in response. Peter fell asleep immediately, exhausted from a mentally and emotionally gruelling day.

Y/N watched as he finally relaxed into his sleep, thankful that she could at least help the superhero everyone loved.

Someday, I will love him. Just not now--not yet. I can’t let you in just yet.

taglist: @mega-bi @lordofblamo @sadstrudel @ispiderdudei @everythingsship @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @annathesillyfriend @mybitchborky @randxmthxughts @dear-selena

[random-thought-depository]

The Star Trek TOS episode Space Seed was on TV Saturday; the episode with Khan (the genetically engineered “superman” Khan, not the guy who built Data Khan).

And a thought occurred to me. So, in the episode they comment on how Khan has “magnetism” and he’s portrayed as charismatic and seductive (both in the sexual/romantic sense and in the more general sense). Personally I didn’t really see the appeal, he seemed like basically just an unpleasant violent narcissist to me, but then I guess some people are into that; I guess he might appeal to the sort of person who really likes Donald Trump.

But I had a thought... OK, Khan is supposed to be a genetically engineered “superman,” created to be superior to ordinary humans; stronger, smarter, etc.. And a lot of physical attractiveness is features that indicate health and genetic fitness. So maybe Khan would look unnaturally handsome. Like, maybe he has super-symmetrical facial features and absolutely perfect skin and teeth and he moves with the speed and grace of a natural Olympic-level athlete and Julliard-level dancer and so on. He doesn’t look that way to me, but we can apply the logic fans have applied to Klingon foreheads and the rubber suit Gorn in TOS and assume what we see on the screen is an imperfect reflection of what Khan “really” looks like. Maybe a lot of Khan’s charisma is just halo effect from him being unnaturally handsome! He has such a big ego and is so proud of his own cleverness and “natural leader” personality traits, I think it’d be funny if a lot of his charisma is really something stupid like that and he’s smart and observant enough to realize it and deep down it bothers him a little!

Mmm, concept:

It does bother him. He uses it, of course. Charisma is a powerful tool and weapon; to refuse to use it out of petty pride would be foolish. And he really is charismatic in the ways he’s proud of being. He really is smart enough to figure out what makes people tick and use that knowledge to manipulate them. He really does have the drive, ambition, vision, and aggression of a natural conqueror, and people sense that and respond to it. He really does impress people with his intelligence and strength. It’s hard to untangle all this from the boost his charisma gets from his unnatural beauty, and to try is at best a matter of blue sky curiosity, at worst indulging one of his few gnawing goblins of self-doubt. Khan is smart enough to know what his charisma is, and pragmatic enough to use it to its full potential.

Still, deep down it bothers him to think that some of his charisma is something that stupid; to think that a difference of a few millimeters of bone and tissue here and there might have made him less successful. Khan relishes bending people to his will with his mind; knowing that something as stupid as “deep down that person wants to please me because I’m beautiful and it feels good to be liked by a beautiful person” is part of the “recipe” taints his triumph, makes him doubt himself. It’s one of the few sources of self-doubt Khan has.

Not everyone responds to Khan’s unnatural handsomeness the same way. A significant minority are actively repulsed by it; they find him too handsome, too perfect; they find it uncanny valley-ish, creepy. And some people just don’t seem to notice physical attractiveness much, or just don’t seem moved by it. And sometimes people are uncomfortable with the feelings Khan’s unnatural handsomeness creates in them and this makes them hostile to him; that happens especially often with men. Khan relishes dealing with people who don’t respond positively to his beauty, manipulating them, bending their minds and hearts to his will. With them he knows it’s a true match of wits and personality; with them his victory is pure.

On a certain level, deep down, Khan envies people like Adolf Hitler, who were charismatic but physically unattractive. They could be secure in the knowledge that their power came from the strength of their minds. When he was younger he once half-seriously considered mutilating his face or getting plastic surgery to make himself uglier, just to make manipulating people more of a challenge, but that was a foolish idea, and he no longer entertains it with any seriousness.

His fellow “superiors” have the same unnatural beauty, and he sometimes wonders if they have the same feelings about it. He’s discussed the matter with a few who he’s closest to, but it’s not something he talks about much.

He tells himself that people responding to his beauty are just responding to his natural fitness to lead in a roundabout way. He asks himself rhetorically why people desire to please and serve beautiful people, and he answers his own question thus: partly because beauty is correlated with health and genetic fitness, and therefore with intelligence and sanity! This leadership-selection strategy is not conscious, but natural selection has carved it into human behavior at the genetic level. This makes him feel a little better, but still... He knows well how sloppy such intuitive heuristics are, and the idea of owing some of his success to something so loosely connected to the strength of his mind bothers him a little. It bothers him, mildly and secretly but persistently, like a cigarette burn under his shirt.

Sometimes Khan wonders if some beautiful women, Marilyn Monroe for example, felt something like the way he feels. To consider this thought gives him a strange feeling; it makes him feel an empathy based on shared suffering of a sort, and he’s not used to empathizing with normal humans that way.

Khan is good at empathizing with people in the sense of cognitive empathy, of knowing how they think, of course. It’s an important part of his charisma; to manipulate people it really helps to understand them. Some conversation with a normal and observation of them and he can often predict their reactions better than they can. But the sort of empathy that comes from shared suffering ... he’s not used to feeling that toward normals. He’s really not used to feeling it toward anybody, because he’s experienced very little suffering. There was the suffering of defeat at the end of the Eugenics Wars, of course, and ... that was about it. He grew up pampered and privileged, surrounded by his creators, who treated him like a prince and told him he was special, better than most people, the next step in human evolution. He had tremendous power and privilege for most of his life. His perfect body has only ever known two kinds of pain, injury-pain (rarely) and exhaustion-pain (mostly only mildly); he has never felt a headache or a back-ache or anything like that, he has never been sick. Even the suffering of defeat was mostly an abstract intellectual and emotional pain; only at the very end was he in any sort of direct physical danger. He has been in battle, he fought hand-to-hand during the coup that first brought him to power and during the chaotic last days before he fled from Earth, he has directly killed people in combat ... but that was more exhilarating and fun to him than anything else; his creators gave him the temperament of a brave warrior.

Once, early in his rise to power, Khan tortured a prisoner by burning them with a lit cigarette. How the weak little thing squirmed and squealed! Afterwards, he tried burning his own arm with a lit cigarette, just to see what it felt like. The pain didn’t seem so bad to him, but then his creators made him resilient enough that he doesn’t need to coddle every little injury, and they adjusted his nervous system suitably, gave him a high pain threshold.

Sometimes Khan does experience a pang of sad visceral empathy toward the unfortunate. He imagines what it would be like to be one of the wretched of the Earth: poor, slow, stupid, weak, sickly, ugly, awkward, wracked by physical and emotional pain, tormented by hunger, thirst, heat, cold, chronic pain, sadness, anxiety, fear, loneliness, impotent anger, shame, sexual frustration, battered about like a leaf in a storm by forces they can’t understand and can’t effect, used and tricked and abused by people smarter or stronger or just higher-status. That ... that must be awful. In his own arrogant, condescending way he really does want to help the normals. He really does want to fill full the mouth of famine, and bid the sickness cease. He intended to make the world orderly and peaceful, and to make sure everyone had the food, shelter, clothing, medicine, etc. they needed and lived in what he considered reasonable comfort and dignity. He created as close an approximation as he could of those conditions within the domains he controlled. They say he was the best of the tyrants.

He’s a convinced elitist, but it would only have been temporary. If he’d won, within a few generations everyone would have been a superior, like him. With time the process that created him could have been made cheaper, made available to everyone who wanted to make a child; if he’d won he’d have made that a great civilizational project, as important as the fusion reactors he saw providing endless cheap energy by burning the deuterium of the oceans and the great vaccination and infrastructure-building campaigns he intended to launch in Africa and Asia and Latin America and the asteroid mining and the... No more need for an elite of superiors when everyone is a superior. And no more arthritis, or depression, or ... so many bad things would have disappeared into the history books when the last generation of normals expired peacefully of old age (joining war and poverty, which he intended to banish into the past much sooner). And in the mean time he’d have seen to it that the last generations of normals lived in as much comfort and dignity as their flawed bodies and limited minds permitted.

And that would have only been the beginning! He looked forward beyond that, to future generations that would be as far beyond him as he was beyond the normals - further! He looked forward to a future of - who knew, immortals seemed like the next obvious step. And after that perhaps god-like immortal minds freed from the limitations of flesh, building for themselves vast magnificent new bodies of silicon and steel in which they would outlive the stars. He probably wouldn’t have seen it, as perfect as his body is it still ages. He wouldn’t even have outlived the last normals. Like Moses, he would have led his people to the border of the promised land but died outside its gates, it would have been to his successor or his successor’s successor to lead them through into the land of milk and honey and dwell there with them. But, perhaps, huddled around one of the last black holes at the end of the time, sipping Hawking radiation to power slow thoughts that took a thousand years to think, there would have been beings that remembered him, that saw his face and touched his hand in the staggeringly distant era when they were still human and had chosen to keep the memory of that as the stars burned out and all through the long bright joyous festival in the cold of the ultimate night. That concept pleased him.

It was not to be. Well, he doesn’t blame the normals too much for rejecting him. The way he figures it, most of them just weren’t smart enough to understand what he was offering, and getting angry at them for that is like getting angry at a non-verbal autistic for being unable to speak.

Once, when he was a child, he was walking alone through the expansive beautiful pleasant garden of his creators’ compound, in the pleasant cool of evening after a hot Indian day, and he found a bird with an injured wing. He supposes Dr. Hibbert’s cat must have mauled it and then gotten distracted by something and wandered off. One of its wings was bloody and wounded and broken and twisted, dragged against the ground as it walked. When he walked toward it, it walked away from him as fast as its little legs could carry it, and then it tried pathetically to fly, flapping its wings furiously and impotently. The sight of it filled him with a queasy mix of revulsion and pity. His first impulse was to run away from it, and his second impulse was to seize a stone and put it out of its misery, but his third impulse, the one he chose to obey, was to capture it and try to fix its wing and tend to it and feed it until it healed. It tried to escape from him as he tried to capture it, and it struggled furiously as he seized and held it, beating its wings furiously and scratching at the air and his hand with its claws. The panicked, vital thing in his hands revolted him, and its claws scratched his fingers and drew blood, but he forced himself to be as gentle with it as he could, to bring it inside and clean and apply antibiotic to its wound and reset and bandage its wing as it tried to escape his grip. He knew it was only natural that it would fight him and try to escape from him; it couldn’t understand that he was trying to help it; its brain couldn’t be much bigger than a peanut, far too small to contain the knowledge of what he was trying to do for it, too small to contain anything but that which was immediately relevant to its wretched and limited life, the search for food and the avoidance of and flight from predators and the building and tending of a nest and mating and laying and tending of eggs and tending of any young that might hatch from them. If it thought at all about what was happening to it, it probably thought he was trying to eat it, or more likely its struggles were simply instinctive, and the process of setting the wing and cleaning and bandaging the wound must have caused it pain. He set its wing and cleaned and bandaged its wound despite its efforts to escape him, and then he put it in a cage Dr. Pretorius gave him and he fed and tended it until its wing was healed, and then he took it into the garden and let it fly away, to continue its wretched and limited and meaningless life in the wild. Perhaps it lived to its kind’s version of old age (perhaps 15 years, he looked it up, and he has an almost eidetic memory) and knew a few moments of something like joy now and then, or perhaps it was eaten by a cat the next day.

When he thinks of the defeat that forced him to flee from Earth, deep into the dark, he thinks of that bird scratching his fingers as he tried to help it.

They say he was the best of the tyrants.

He killed more people than Hitler and Stalin.

------

Note: this is a model for, like, approximately Space Seed period Khan; Wrath of Khan period Khan has known real suffering intimately and would be a lot more bitter. Negative character development lol. Especially as the whole “we couldn’t tell two completely different planets apart” thing in Wrath of Khan is so absurd that I kind of headcanon that would actually happened is that Khan wanted revenge for his wife’s death, decided he’d rather be the ruler of a populous world than the leader of a 72 person village, tried to MacGyver up a small starship to reach a civilized world, ended up crashing on the much less habitable next planet out in that solar system, and in true Hitler/Trump-like fashion blamed somebody else (Kirk) for the consequences of his own overreach and disastrous failure.

[radreactions]

Hey this coronavirus stuff got you freaked out? I wonder which of the companions would be most worried about it

Not really? I mean, the worst thing about it for me is that I don't get to see the woman I've been crushing hella hard on at work 😂

Ada - She is primarily concerned about her friends' wellbeing. Of course, being a robot, she's immune to such human ailments but don't think for a second that she wouldn't take the risk seriously. In fact, she goes so far that she gets her chassis modified to be a one litre bullet proof tank full of hand sanitizer and a ballistic fibre, water proof rucksack with a whole four rolls of toilet paper. Four!

Cait - The only corona she's concerned about is the swill they pass off as pale lager - now that is the real problem with society.

Codsworth - He's like your paranoid grandparents: always reading the Publick Occurrences, can be found huddled next to the radio listening to DCR for the latest updates, and constantly nagging you about wearing gloves and a facemask. Constantly disinfecting everything in the house twice a day.

Curie - She takes it as her personal mission to construct a cure. After all, she successfully created one for the Vault 81 disease, surely she can do it for a mutated flu? In fact, she barely remembers to sleep until she finds one, a small part of her regretting that she's now effectively human and unable to go very long without needing to eat and sleep.

Dogmeat - With everyone being as gloomy as they are, fretting about the latest pandemic to haunt the wasteland, Dogmeat takes upon himself his own mission - to make as many people smile as he can! He does this by bounding around the settlement like a little puppy, jumping up and nuzzling into anyone brave enough to step outside. He even found a friend to play with, another dog just like him! At the amusement of everyone watching through the windows from self-quarantine, they play tug, chase each other around and...and...why is Sole yelling at him to get inside? Is it because his friend is unusually big and green and...oh.

Danse - He tries to stay away from Prydwen as much as he can. Sure Captain Cade is a good medic and their healthcare division is pretty solid, but being surrounded by hundreds of people in one metal flightdeck? No thanks. He'll take his chances in the power armour.

Deacon - The facemask stays on during sex 👌

Gage - Who gives a fuck about a cold? Let's get back to killing and pillaging. After all, something's gotta kill ya in the end.

Hancock - Another good thing about being a ghoul? In addition to his ruggedly handsome good looks and fantastic life expectancy, he's also discovered that he's actually immune to the 'rona. Who'd have thought? And if he takes advantage of the situation by relentlessly flirting with a flustered Curie who's still trying to find a cure, can you really blame him?

MacCready - He's a nervous wreck. After living through Little Lamplight - the place where he'd nearly died from a multitude of different sicknesses - this virus truly scares the shit of out him. Not only because he has himself and his relatively weak immune system to worry about, but he also has his freshly cured and still very fragile son to think about.

Maxson - He has full faith in Captain Cade and his staff to take care of the sick and injured alike. Scribe Neriah has already started testing potential vaccines on the molerats and so far, only one of them have exploded. He takes that as a good sign. During the last flu, Proctor Ingram was reporting bits of flesh in various places of the flight deck for days after the first round of attempted molerate inoculation. The smell was the worst.

Nick Valentine - Like Ada, he takes great care in ensuring that his friends practise safe hygiene. During the quarantine, he spends a day with Ellie, a day with Sole and a day with each of his other friends before rotating all over again until the quarantine is lifted. He knows what it's like to feel alone and hates the thought that they'd feel that way no matter what the circumstances are.

Old Longfellow - He always knew there were perks for going it solo, just as he always knew there were perk for drinking alcohol. Both could see him come out of this thing unscathed, but it's Sole and all their damn friends that he's worried about. They just had to be a damn social butterfly didn't they? Now they've got him risking his neck by bringing them all a bottle of whiskey to cheer 'em up.

Piper Wright - She feels like she's being torn in a multitude of directions. She needs to keep Nat safe and away from potential germs, but she can't just leave her locked in the house for however long this thing is going to last and she needs her printing press because at the same time, she has a duty to the people to report on this! Dr Sun has been her saving grace, informing her on proper hygiene and the official survival rates - essentially the real story of the corona virus and not hearsay scare mongering by people living in constant fear. Plus, she's having serious Power Noodle withdrawals.

Preston Garvey - This is by far the quietest time for the Minutemen ever. It's unnerving really, having patrols report back that literally nothing but mutated wildlife is out there. Not even the raiders want to risk falling ill, and for that, Preston feels just a bit guilty about feeling grateful for the virus. It means he can stop for a moment and proverbially catch his breath, deal with the recent losses and the whirlwind of the past few months. Lord knows he's been unsteady for a while now and once this thing blows over? The Commonwealth is going to need him in top shape more than ever.

X6-88 - He's suprised at how quickly the virus has spread. He was well aware of what it does to it's hosts. After all, he did read Bio Science's briefing before it officially broke out. But one thing that suprised him was that the eggheads were wrong in it completely wiping out the surface population. You see, the Institute constructed the virus to speed up their plans for the above world. It seemed the surface dwellers were much more resilient and proactive than the original directors of the Institute predicted and thus a highly contagious aggressive pathogen seemed like the best option as a last resort. Now though, he's not so sure. The above world - those who (unlike the Institute) are familiar with dealing with the spread of foreign sickness - seemed to have outplayed them once again with their strength and resilience. For that, he couldn't help but be impressed.