#Meant to get this out earlier but life kicked me in the ass

[thechairanon]

Wrote this as a fun little "Haha what if" scenario, but it ended a lot more existential-y than I thought it would.

What if I chose the Spoon emoji instead of the Chair emoji?

Spoons smiled at her reflection.

“Hello, pretty!” She said to herself. “You’re dazzling.”

Spoons spun around, taking in herself.

Her skin was slightly gray and shone like a ceramic doll. Her wavy silver hair gathered at her shoulders. She wore a dusty light purple renaissance festival style dress with a dark purple corset. Her belt clinked every time she moved due to the amount of spoons tied to it. Her black flats had beads sewn into the sides.

Spoons leaned into the mirror to take a closer look at her facial features.

Her eyes were a bright, startling green with flakes of gold and purple. Her mouth was full of sharp teeth that glinted in the unnatural light of the Void.

“Hello!” Chair greeted. They stood at the side of the mirror so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of their own reflection. “Welcome to the Void. What’s your name?”

“I’m you,” the new anon answered, “but you can just call me Spoons.”

“I… I’m sorry? What? Y-” Chair tried to process what the other anon said. “You’re me? No you’re not, I’m me. I think.”

Spoons laughed. “No, no. I’m what could’ve been you if our Creator had rolled with what she was familiar with: Spoons! That’s their IRL nickname, did you know?”

“N- no… Why did-”

“Why did she choose a chair emoji over a spoon emoji?” Spoons interrupted. “She thought it was funny. She saw a chair emoji in her ‘recently used emojis’ tab or whatever it’s called, and now here you are!” Spoons smiled. “A happy accident.”

“So why are you here?” Chair asked.

Spoons shrugged. “It’s April Fool’s day, so I think she just made me to explain why you’re here. My design was created within, like, fifteen minutes. Kind of like yours! Our Creator made your first reference post barely a day after the anons were first created.”

“Are you here for revenge, then?” Asked Chair. She got ready to run. “Because I’m here and you aren’t?”

Spoons laughed. “I don’t have time to seek revenge! Our Creator made me a more laid-back character, kind of like the Spoons before me. I’m going to stop existing by tomorrow and you’ll forget about me by then too, so I’d rather spend my short existence having fun than plotting vengeance.”

“Oh. That’s kind of sad. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“Angry? For not being able to live for very long?” She thought for a moment. “Nah, I’m not angry. You’re really cool! I’m just a little sad that I won’t really be able to interact with the other anons as me instead of as you.”

“I’m sorry about that, but… does that mean I’m not real either?” Chair asked. “Like how Death Hetch was saying he’s not real?”

“Of course we’re not real,” Spoons giggled, “you silly. We were never real. But we’re loved. And I think that’s really all that matters, don’t you?”

Chair looked away. She supposed that was the case, but… “Where will we go when we’re done?”

“Oh, who knows! You’ll stay in the Void because that’s what’s expected of you and your character. After that, your image and name will probably be used as a minor character in whatever future projects our Creator decides to work on. I’m a reimagined version of another Spoons, and I think I look great.”

Chair sat down on their chair. “What was your original version like?”

“She was a fighter. Which makes sense because she was made specifically for a LARP day at a summer camp our Creator was at. Then that waterfalled into another character, then another, and then me! But you?” Spoons leaned forward so she was eye-to-eye with Chair. “You’re original. Even if you were made for a roleplay for a comic our Creator enjoys, you’re creativity and originality at her greatest.”

A crack grew on Spoons’ skin and through her left eye. Chair gasped. “Woah. What is that?”

The shiny anon reached up to her face to feel the crack that grew. “I don’t know. It could be one of two things: my form is unstable because it’s unfinished, or something just happened in our Creator’s life and it's being reflected on me. I’m betting on the former. Either way, I’m off to explore the Void before I die. Happy April First!”

Chair watched helplessly as Spoons happily skipped away. “Bye…”

[bunnys-kisses]

black ink & pink french tips

captain john price

cw: retired!price, tattooed!price, smut/pwp, sub!reader, dom!price, bimbo!reader, age difference (20s & 40s), power play, daddy kink, baby trapping

bunny says: happy 3,000 followers to me (and right before my exam)!

price remembered his retirement party. he remembered the pat on the back he got from higher ups for his service. he was supposed to be proud, but now in his mid-forties, what legacy did he have to show for it? his name was more often than not redacted, he entire career was in the shadows.

no wife, no kids, not even a fixed address.

so life outside of the military became aimless. that was until he found you. while most would frown at a twenty year ago gap, but you were an adult who could make her own choices. price felt protective over you, he needed to keep you safe.

you were an adult, but you had a lot to learn. and what started out as companionship quickly turned into mind-blowing sex. price could man handle you like no other man could dream of.

"men my age are simply too nice." you sighed as you examined your nails. you looked at him, "pussies."

he simply chuckled and went over to him, shirtless with a cigarette in his mouth. his walk was almost seductive as he got closer. he looked down at you and cupped your face, “well, love. daddy will take care of ya. ”

did he rile up your daddy kink? yes. did he often use it as an excuse to tease you? yes. did you almost rip his hair out when he asked you about your relationship with your father in the middle of sex? yes. 

price loved you on your knees, in his bed, over the couch, he loved on your side, back and stomach. he loved how his cock just sank into the sweetness of your cunt. it riled him up when he felt his tip poke at your womb. you were just perfect, he couldn't imagine himself with any other woman. you were his princess. 

he was laid out beside you on his side while you were on your stomach trembling on the bed. there was a bullet vibrator inside of you and he had turned the setting on to high. he heard your small squeaks and watched you squirm as he palmed your ass. he grabbed your ass roughly as he watched you come apart. 

tonight he was determined to get you as lust-drunk as he could get you. he had plans for you tonight. 

the night prior he had proposed to you, and you rejected him. you told him that you didn't want to get married! was he crazy? so he had to go an unconventional route to keep you firmly by his side. it meant going from lacey bralettes to cute nursing bras in a years time. you could still be your hyper pink self while pushing a stroller, right? 

at the time he shrugged it off, but his ability to plan started to form in his brain. so now he had you laid out as he touched you. his broad, strong hand groped your sweet ass. he watch it jiggle when he gave the cheeks a few smacks. he leaned into your ear, his facial hair touched your flushed skin, “how does it feel, baby girl?” 

you whimpered, “why did you turn it on so high?”

he chuckled, “because when i'm too gentle you turn into a brat.” he slapped your ass and leaned in closer. he kissed your cheek softly, “you kick your legs and whine until you get what you want.”

you whined, “i'm not always a brat.” you buried your face deeper into the pillow. you could feel price's scent cloud your head as he made you feel good. 

price reached down between your legs and started to rock the vibrator in and out of your pussy. you kicked out yours legs and he closed the gap between you, his other forearm across your lower back, “stay still, love.” his voice was low. 

his tattooed fingers lingered around your hole, his thumb even touched your clit which made you feel like you were on a live wire! but price kept you pinned down. he loved watching your little movements, everything about you was so delicate. with your glossed lips and the clips in your hair, the way you pouted at him earlier. 

he licked his lips and slid his fingers into your tight hole up against the vibrator. you moaned and arched your back. the pleasure raced through your body as he pleasured you. he knew you were getting more wound up the more he touched you. his naked little angel, all soft and vulnerable for him. 

you didn't know much, when he asked you hard questions you got confused. but your confusion was just the sweetest thing he had ever seen. now he was going to have you as his wife. you'd make a beautiful mother. the thought made his cock twitch, it was already at full attention. ready to fuck the living daylights out of you. 

you clawed at the mattress under you and arched your back. your noises was music to his ears. you made a deep noise when he pulled the vibrator out of your pussy. you went limp onto the bed, your head felt like a haze as you felt him roll you onto your back, your pussy glistened in the heated bedroom.

  “aren't you such a treat. dirty girl who wants to be fucked by her daddy.” he got between your legs, he rested his weight against you, pinning you to the bed. your hands found his shoulders as he hoisted your hips against his. his hard cock pressed against your entrance, “silly little things like you need to be kept safe. that's why your home is in the arms of an older man.” he pressed his forehead against yours, he felt the sweat against his skin. 

you moaned, “price, please.” 

he grabbed you by the face and moved back to he could stare at you. the look in his eyes was clouded by lust, but stern. stern in a way that showed that he was hardened by war.  he said, “price?”

you pouted “daddy…”

  “i should punish you for that. make ya wash your mouth out with soap for that.” he smirked at you, “or maybe ten minutes in the corner? or maybe i should make sure you don't get to orgasm?” 

you whined, “please, daddy! i'm sorry! my head feels all heavy.” you were running on the high of pleasure. you were barely thinking. 

  “it's alright.” he purred, “I can forgive ya tonight. you're always so good for me.” he said as he let go of your chin and kept you pinned to the bed by his broad chest. you could feel his chest hair tickle against your chest. it felt nice against your nipples. he took you by the legs and pushed his cock into you slowly. 

you were so relaxed and soaked that he slipped in with ease. he bottomed out into you and you jolted it. you clawed at his back, nit enough to draw blood but rough enough that it left the skin irritated. price had a few tattoos since he retired, the ink skin contrasted nicely with the prettiness of you nails. 

black ink and pink french-tips. 

he rubbed up against you as he thrusted into you. he loved the warmness of your sex, he could feel your heartbeat against his skin as he moved you up and down on his cock. he exhaled deeply, “that's it, baby girl. daddy loves that cunt of yours.” 

  “please, daddy.” you whimpered as you held onto him tightly. 

  “you feel amazing.” he groaned, “it was like you were made for me.  mind, body and soul. all mine.” 

you tighten your legs around his waist. you moaned into his shoulder, you almost bit into the meat of it as you felt him. every thrust felt like a nudge against the end of you sex. like he was in your stomach. 

  “so good for me. you felt so perfect around me. my baby girl.” he rocked his hips quickly. he slammed his cock deep into you. he held onto you as tight as he could, he knew it was going to bruising. 

  "please"." you whimpered, "it feels so good!'

  "that's what i like to hear.' he fucked you hard, your pussy clenched around his cock. your noises encouraged him as he moved against you. he sloppily made out with you as his pace started to stagger. pleasure clouded both of your mind. his stomach did flips at the idea of getting you pregnant. trapping you with his baby. 

he held onto you tightly, tattooed hand in your hair as he fucked you with vigor. with a few hard thrusts later, you both climaxed at the same time. you kicked out your legs pathetically as you clenched around his cock. you went limp after as you tried to catch your breath. your head was too fuzzy to notice that price was finishing off inside of you. 

spurts of cum hit against the back of your cervix and you felt like you were going to melt into the bed. but price continued to thrust into you even as he grew softer. he loved the feeling of your gummy, soft cunt around his length. it felt like home.

he whispered as he pulled out eventually, he laid out beside you and teased your cunt, “good girl.” he purred, “my good girl.” 

your were unaware of most things. you didn't even notice that price had eagerly seeded you. and his mission was a success <3

[silent-stories]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: The soft way you wake Eddie in the morning is very different from the way his father used to.

Warnings: fluff, Eddie's father being an ass

1977

Eddie's bedroom door slammed open and his father strode in, heading for the bed where Eddie had just woken up from the loud noise.

His dad already had a bottle of alcohol in his hand even though it was only seven in the morning.

"Wake up, asshole." He said kicking the bed, making Eddie jump, "It's eight o'clock and you're already late for school."

Eddie rubbed his eyes with a hand, yawning.

Al Munson, who evidently wasn't the very patient type, grabbed the mattress and basically tipped it over, knocking Eddie, who was thin and not very tall for his age at the time, to the floor.

"If you'd woken up earlier this wouldn't have been necessary." His father mumbled walking out of the room slamming the door behind him.

Of course, it was never his fault but always Eddie's. It was easier for him that way.

Eddie rolled onto his back with a grunt and stared at the ceiling of his room.

"Well, good morning to me."

1986

"Eddie."

He heard your soft voice calling his name and slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey, good morning. It's almost nine."

You were sitting on the edge of the bed next to him and you were wearing only one of his black Metallica t-shirts which was way too big for you. Your face was still slightly sleepy so you mustn't have woken up long before but still Eddie thought you were one of the most beautiful things he'd seen in his entire life.

Daylight was filtering through the window, lighting up Eddie's messy bedroom.

You reached out and moved a strand of dark hair from his face, your fingers gently caressed his skin.

Eddie still had to get used to that. To you waking him up in that sweet and peaceful way. Without haste, without yelling, without any kind of violence.

He still had to get used to the way you caressed his face or kissed his cheek to wake him up every time you did before him, when you spent the night at his trailer, and he still had to get used to the fact that there was no one left to kick him out of bed every morning, even though it had been years.

He sat up on the bed in front of you, the blanket slipping off his body revealing his bare chest and the tattoos covering his pale skin.

Seeing you in his shirt gave him a feeling of absolute peace, he felt like not only he felt at home and safe when he was with you but you did it too when you were with him.

"Do you wanna help me make breakfast?" You asked, a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie in response slowly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him.

Not yet, that meant.

You giggled. "Are you okay Eds?"

He nodded as he rested his head on your shoulder and you ran your fingertips against his bare back. A shiver ran through Eddie's body but it was a good feeling.

Thank you for still being here with me, he wanted to say. Thank you for waking me up every morning like you do.

You softly ran your fingers up and down his spine for a few more moments, your gaze falling on the almost invisible freckles on his skin.

You gently brushed his hair away and planted a kiss on his bare shoulder, only realizing you'd tickled him when you heard a small, muffled laugh come from the crook of your neck where Eddie was resting his head.

Despite this he didn't ask you to stop when your lips found his shoulder again, leaving a trail of soft kisses.

During that quiet intimate moment the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your breaths and the sound of your kisses.

"I love you." He muttered as he gently pulled away from you, after some moments, and you cupped his face in your hands after tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

"My sweet, sleepy boy." You laughed before placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too."

My.

Eddie still couldn't believe it.

You took his hand in yours and got out of bed as he did the same, Eddie was still shirtless and his bare feet met the cool but pleasant floor of the trailer.

"Pancakes?" He asked as you both made your way to the kitchen.

A smile appeared on your face. "Exactly what I was thinking about."

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat

[glossyfairytears]

if you could do a fem!yandere whos possessive but gentle and is trying to force feed the fem!reader, bonus points if the fem!yan is keeping the reader at her home!!

Coactu

Female Yandere X Fem Reader

Warnings: Talk of previous drugging, Talk of previous kidnapping, talk of force feeding, tied up, pet names (Sweetie, Good girl, Baby, Dear)

A/N It has been over a year since I added to Amoura's story T_T for those of you asking, don't worry I have a few things lined up for her. University is kicking my ass so I have had to lock in and study for a while.

“Come on, it’s been two days since you last ate”

You grimaced and turned your head away from her, causing Amoura to sigh.

It had been two days since she pulled you from your bed and took you to her home. Two days since she ripped your life away from you all the while saying it’ll be good for you, better for you to be hidden away from the world.

Your first day was spent being nauseous and out of it from the sedative. Almost wishing to be knocked out again if it meant avoiding the sedative’s hangover. Now, she had you cuffed to a chair with a couple of dishes in front of you. Knowing her, there was a good chance that the food was drugged. If it was not your food, then it would be your drink. you couldn't trust her after she kidnapped you, and rightfully so. No sane person would just blindly trust whatever their kidnapper gave them, regardless of how hungry they were.

Your stomach grumbled loudly, snapping you out of your thoughts. Amoura giggled, a prideful look on her face.

“I know you’re hungry, dear.” She waves a slice of buttered bread in front of you. “Be a good girl for me, you need to eat.”

Much to your stomach’s dismay, you still refuse. Amoura frowns and lets out a tired sigh.

“I really didn’t want to force you, sweetie, but you’re not giving me a choice here.” She steps towards you, causing you to pull against your binds. "Either you eat the food or I'll make you eat it, and we both know you don't want that. It's much better to eat it on your own isn't it?"

She has a point, but really there were no good options.

"I'm not eating that." You glared at her, "You probably drugged it, or worse."

Amoura shot you an offended look before taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose.

"I did NOT drug it, but I might have to since you keep refusing to eat." She smiles, and you shrink a little into your chair. "you certainly can't fight if you're all drugged up, huh?"

She places the bread down and gets up, going towards the door, laughing a little as she hears you begin to struggle and call out for her.

"oh so now you want to eat, huh?" Amoura turns in the doorway, considering your pleas, "How do I know you won't just spit it out on me. I saw that look earlier."

"I won't, please just...don't drug me, I can--I will eat, please don't drug me again."

She takes a second to consider, but seems to decide to trust you, and you're glad for it. It may be drugged, but at least she won't be injecting you with whatever she used when she kidnapped you. You didn't want to feel that sick again.

Smiling, Amoura picks up the bread and slides onto your lap, straddling your legs, before holding the slice of bread up.

"Open wide, baby."

[heavyhitterheaux]

Adore You

10,000 Hours Instagram Au (Joe Burrow)

Requested by: a beautiful anon 💕

Liked by itsy/n, taylorrooks, lahjay10_, espn, thewomancave, and 1,293,972 others

joeyb_9: They say if it's meant to be, it will be ❤️

taylorrooks: give me my credit where credit is due because if it wasn't for me neither of you would have said anything to each other all night since you thought it would be awkward! lahjay10_: oh lord here she go fashionbynatalie: lahjay10_ but is she lying though? we were tired of them giving each other pitiful looks so bestie taylor had to do what she needed to do itsy/n: I swear that I can't take either of you anywhere. just say we cute and go! taylorrooks: oh, yall are cute. very cute indeed.... all thanks to me. 🥰 lahjay10_: not joe gripping her hand for dear life, my mans is in LOVE joeyb_9: lahjay10_ and what about it? second chances don't always come around and I had a chance so I took it itsy/n: do yall insist on picking on us every time we post a pic? taylorrooks: YES fashionbynatalie: YES lahjay10_: YES sam_hubbard_: YES itsy/n: sam_hubbard_ now where did your ass come from?!

Liked by itsy/n, fashionbynatalie, thewomancave, theshaderoom, espn, taylorrooks, alanarodriguez, and 2,854,927 others

joeyb_9: how is a human actually this gorgeous? And she's all mine? itsy/n 😜😍

taylorrooks: go best friend, that's my best friend 😍 itsy/n: omg stoppppppp 🙈🙈🙈🙈 fashionbynatalie: still don't understand how you let her go in the first place? itsy/n: natalie! fashionbynatalie: just calling it like I see it! joeyb_9: natalie, I don't know either lahjay10: walk walk, fashion baby! joeyb_: turning heads and breaking necks! alanarodriguez: now only if she could cook as good as she dresses itsy/n: alanarodriguez imma kick your ass joeyb_9: alanarodriguez she's gotten better, but I still get fed either way 🤷‍♂️ taylorrooks: OH alanarodriguez: 😐 fashionbynatalie: Now Joseph........ joeyb_9: 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Liked by alanarodriguez, sam_hubbard_, thewomancave, fashionbynatalie, thewomancaveupdates, y/nandjoedaily, and 2,935,715 others

itsy/n: who gave him permission to look this cute? Lazy day with my bubs are the best days 💕

y/nandjoedaily: y/n is me because, who gave him the right? lahjay10_ not joeyb_9 cheating on me itsy/n: Now Mr. Chase, act accordingly. You have an interview with me this week lahjay10_: I'll get taylorrooks to do it taylorrooks: I'm doing what now? alanarodriguez: the two of you were supposed to be at my house an HOUR ago joeyb_9: alanarodriguez oh. that was today? and lahjay10_ don't come up in here acting like that alanarodriguez: do the two of you ever come up for air and realize that there are other people in the world? itsy/n: joey, did you hear something? joeyb_9: nope alanarodriguez: Joseph, now you know your girl can't cook and I offered to feed the both of you and this is how you want to act? joeyb_9: be there in 20. itsy/n: trust that big sisters will always throw you under the bus smh and I can cook! fashionbynatalie: itsy/n the burnt toast pic that joe sent me earlier tells me otherwise itsy/n: JOSEPHHHHHHH joeyb_9: natalie made me do it

Liked by taylorrooks, joeyb_9, hollywoodunlocked, balleralert, joeybdaily, y/nandjoeupdates, thewomancave, and 3,482,018 others

itsy/n: sitting pretty on the sidelines ready to cheer on my boo joeyb_9 😘

lahjay10_: shouldn't your ass be working?! itsy/n: lahjay10 and shouldn't your ass be warming up? WHY ARE YOU ON INSTAGRAM? joeyb_9: yeah, let me get this win so we can celebrate. Just me and you. I got the best good luck charm out there 😍 y/nandjoeupdates: because I was about to say them shorts are NOT work appropriate alanarodriguez: yall just announced that yall are back together and have fan accounts already? itsy/n: alanarodriguez the people adore me unlike my big sister who constantly critiques my cooking skills alanarodriguez: y/n, I don't care if you eat your cooking. I'm concerned for joe and your future children. joeburrowupdates: CHILDREN? itsy/n: now look at what you started smh, I'm going to get mozzarella sticks and watch my man joeyb_9: alanarodriguez, I typically just inhale it. when you do that you really don't have a chance to taste anything itsy/n: joeyb_9 celebrate by yourself joeyb_9: 😭😭😭

Liked by joeyb_9, lahjay10_, taylorrooks, cincinattibengals, espn, lsufootball, y/nandjoeupdates, amd 1,274,192 others

itsy/n: still mesmerized every time I watch you play and I am so incredibly proud of you. I knew you were destined for greatness from day one. Love you bubs 💖

lahjay10_: damn idk who is more of a simp, you or joe itsy/n: JA'MARR GO AWAY smh joeyb_9: his ass is always somewhere hating but, thank you baby girl this means more to me than you know and I'm happy to have you by my side again taylorrooks: yall know he is never letting this go because apparently joe cheated on him with y/n even though he knew y/n longer but that's just my two cents lahjay10_: taylorrooks I want my special interview to be able to tell my story. the people will side with me. joeyb_9: 🙄🙄🙄 lahjay10_: you won't be rolling your eyes when I sue you for emotional distress itsy/n: bye Ja'Marr. exit stage left smh lahjay10_: itsy/n joeyb_9 this isn't over fashionbynatalie: joeyb_9 itsy/n wants you to grow the beard back, but you didn't hear it from me itsy/n: fashionbynatalie I.... seriously? fashionbynatalie: closed mouths do not get fed! y/nandjoeupdates: awww high school sweethearts are back together again. excuse me while I go and wedding plan.

Taglist:

@hoodharlow

@nattinatalia

@a-moment-captured

@wickedfun9

@keiva1000

@dandelionwrites8

@hufflewhore128

[hellcat8908]

I was wondering if i could please request one where it’s azriel x reader and she is exposed to a love potion by her ex or something so she breaks azs heart and leaves him for her ex. It is so sudden and reader is seemingly happy with her ex. it absolutely crushes him to see another male with reader. He tells the IC and they start to think. Amren suspects a spell and with the help of rhysand, azriel brings back reader who is enraged that they took her from her ex. Rhys uses his daemati powers to break the spell and reader goes back to normal. After that He kicks her exes ass👀

Under A Spell Azriel x Female Reader

After the day Azriel had, he was glad to finally be sitting across from you at dinner. He had greeted you with a kiss to the cheek and started asking how your day had been. He noticed your quiet demeanor and quickly asked what was wrong. "We need to talk." You answer. "Well, this can't be good." Azriel says. "I'm sorry, Az, this just isn't working out between us anymore." You say.

"What do you mean? We were so happy together earlier. What changed?" He asks, trying to keep his voice low so he doesn't cause a scene. "I don't know, my feelings for you have changed. I think it's best if we don't work together for a while until things are less awkward." You answer, trying to let him down easy.

"You can't be serious. I don't understand where this is suddenly coming from." He says. "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I still care about you, just not in that way." You answer. "I think it's best if I go. Take care of yourself, Azriel." You say before getting up and walking away. His heart shattered as he watched you leave.

Cassian decides to take Azriel out for a guys night a few days later, trying to cheer him up. They end up at Rita's and have a few drinks. Azriel hears your familiar laugh and starts searching the room for you. He bristles when he finds you at a table with your ex. You're constantly touching him and flirting shamelessly with him. Cassian follows Azriels eyes and finds what has him irritated.

"Let's get out of here." Cassian says, putting his hand on Azriel's shoulder, trying to pull his attention from you away. "What is she doing here with him? She can't stand the arrogant prick." Azriel says. "Maybe she can stand him after all. Maybe he has changed." Cassian says. "Let's go." Azriel says as he stands and starts making his way towards the exit.

The next day, Azriel is in a meeting with Rhys and Amren about something Amren was working on. Rhys noticed Azriels distraction and asked what was going on. Azriel tells him about seeing you at Rita's with your ex. Amren finds it odd that you'd be with your ex since you hated the way he treated you. "Let me try talking to her, see if I can learn anything else." Amren says. "Please do and let me know what you find out." Azriel says. Amren assures him she will.

The next day, she gets you to meet for lunch at Rita's. Amren is waiting at a small table when you happily greet her. "How have you been? I hear there's a new man in your life." Amren says. "I got back together with Kai recently." You admit to her. "I know it was sudden, but there's just something about him that draws me to him. I can't explain it."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Amren asks. "I'm sure, I just wish I hadn't hurt Azriel with my decision." You answer, taking a sip of you tea. "How is, by the way? I saw him the other night out with Cassian." You inquire. "He's hanging in there, burying himself in work to keep his mind busy." Amren tells you. You suddenly feel guilty. "This was fun. We'll have to get together again." You say before rushing out.

Rhys and Azriel are going over reports at the river house. Amren walks in, "Well, I'm not sure what Kai has done to her, but she definitely isn't herself." She tells them. "Do some research and see what you can find out." Rhys says. "See if the priestess knows of anything that could point us in the right direction."

A few mornings later, you are walking out of the bookstore when Cassian walks up beside you. "Hey, y/n." He greets you. "Hey. What are you doing here?" You ask softly. "Rhys would like your help with something. He made it sound urgent. So here I am to escort you to the river house, if that's ok." He says. "Of course, always happy to help when I can." You tell him before he walks you to the river house and into Rhys' office.

"Glad to see you could come," Rhys says warmly as you enter the room. "Please have a seat." He says as he gestures to a chair. You hear the door closing draws your attention, noticing Azriel for the first time. You fidget under his gaze. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here." Rhys says. "I think you've been exposed to a spell, and I just want to make sure you're safe." He continues.

"A spell? Is this about Kai?" You ask shooting a glare at Azriel. "This is absurd! Why can't you just accept that I'm with him now?!" You say as your voice rises. "If you're so sure he didn't do anything, then there's no harm in Rhys checking." Azriel says, keeping his tone even. "Fine, but when you discover that there's no spell, I want an apology and for you to stay out of my business." You tell him. "Deal." Azriel agrees.

You turn back to Rhys and lower your mental shields. You feel him inside your mind as he talks you through what he is doing. "That's what I'm looking for. He has altered your memories with him along with the feelings." Rhys announces as he focuses on breaking the spell. After a few minutes, he retreats from your mind as you sit silently in the chair. "Let's give y/n some privacy." Rhys says as he and cassian leave.

Once you hear the door shut behind them, you let the tears fall. In an instant, Azriel is lifting you out of the chair and carrying you to the couch, sitting you in his lap. "You're ok, angel, I've got you." He says softly as he holds you and gently strokes your hair. "Azriel, I'm so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me?" You ask between sobs. "There is nothing to forgive. You were under a spell."

You bury your face in his chest as his shadows swirl around you, offering you comfort. "I love you with all my heart, and I'm so sorry for the pain you've endured." You say softly. "I love you too, angel. I'm sorry you went through that." He says before kissing away your tears. He continues to hold you until you've settled down. "Are you ready to go home?" He asks you. "What about Kai?" You ask. "He'll be dealt with, I promise."

After winnowing you home, he starts making you some lunch while you sit at the island. "What will happen to Kai?" You ask while watching Azriel cook. "Depends on who finds him first." Azriel says. "If Rhys finds him first, he'll be a prisoner and sent to Hewn City." Azriel tells you. "What if you find him first?" You ask. "He'll be given a taste of what's to come at Hewn City." Azriel answers. "He deserves more than a taste. We were supposed to have dinner tonight. You could conveniently show up and give him a taste." You say with a wicked smile.

Later that night, you're seated at a table waiting for Kai to show up. He walks in shortly after your water arrives and greets you warmly. "How was your day?" You ask, not really caring. "It was pretty good, actually. How about yours?" He asks. "It was eventful." You answer. "What happened?" He asks as he looks over the menu. "Well, I went to the bookstore, then had an interesting meeting with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel." You tell him, waiting for him to connect the dots.

"You know I don't like you being around your ex." He says as he puts the menu on the table. "That's funny because he doesn't like me being around you, especially when he found out you put a spell on me." You say flatly as Azriel comes to stand by your side. "Kai, how about we take this outside? I'd hate to cause a scene in here." Azriel says. "Do I have a choice?" Kai asks, sounding annoyed. "Not really." Azriel says before following Kai outside and into an alley.

"So what now, are you going to -" Kai's words are cut short by Azriel's fist connecting with his jaw, causing him to stumble back. Kai tries to regain his balance and throws a punch at Azriel. Azriel has no problem avoiding it and lands another hit to Kai's ribs. Before long, Kai is on the ground in a bloody heap as Azriel only has a few cuts from lucky punches.

Cassian and Rhys walk down the alley to where you're standing with Azriel. "Looks like we should've shown up sooner." Rhys says. "Kai's lucky we showed up at all. I'll take him to Hewn City to be officially dealt with." Cassian says as he picks up Kai and carries him off. "Thank you, Rhys. For everything you did to help me." You tell the high lord before he winnows home to his family.  "I think it's time we went home too." Azriel says with a smile before kissing you as he winnows you home."

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

As it Comes Back to Me

Natasha Romanoff x WinterSoldier!Reader

Summary: Your whole life you'd been living for a mission, whether it be protecting your family or fighting just to see the next sunrise. If you didn’t slow down though, you stood to lose someone you couldn’t live without.

Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War.

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I spent way too much time writing this instead of studying for class.

“Hey kids,” you said, walking up to wrap your arms around Steve and Bucky. You’d just  been promoted to Major and had been sent back to the states to escort a fresh round of recruits to the front. There was a big event tonight though which begged for your attention. Howard Stark was showing some new invention or other of his. You’d never been too interested in what the scientists had to say, but there would be plenty of girls out looking to be asked to a dance.

Steve, your little brother–both in age and stature–looked less than thrilled at your return. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” he protested, shrugging out of your embrace. “I should be heading out with you and Buck tomorrow. I want to fight. I know I can help.” You felt for Steve. If it was him and Bucky standing in uniform and not you, you’re sure you’d be missing out on a whole lot.

“I know, I know. I’m sure you’d give them Nazis real cause to turn and run,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle properly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “Ya know you should’ve seen him earlier today. Fought off some punk in an alleyway with a trash can lid. Kicked his ass real good if you ask me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Ya said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, what I meant to say was that Steve got beat up and I had to come rescue him.” The soon to be sergeant ruffled your brother’s hair.

“No, I know what you’re really upset about is that I’m stealing your boy here,” you said, nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah, enough. Now come on, I wanna get a good look at the car. All the posters were sayin’ Stark could make it fly.” Steve began to weave his way through the crowd, giving you no choice but to follow. 

“I’m worried about leaving him here all alone, ya know?” Bucky said, a crease forming between his brow. 

“He’s tough, and he’s smart. Always has been, you know that. Honestly, if they should be sendin’ anyone to fight they should be sendin’ him instead of us. But spirit’s not gonna win a fight, ya gotta back it up with somethin’. Point is, he’ll be fine on his own. Maybe if we’re lucky when we get back he’ll have found himself a nice girl to care for.” You smirked at Bucky. 

He ignored the jab as he waved at a group of nice looking girls. You waved too, flashing a smile and admiring the way their skirts fit. “Hey girls!” He shouted. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, he turned to you again. “I just worry about him. I care about him a lot and I can see how torn up he is about us gettin’ to go when he can’t.” A frown appeared to dim the light on his face. “What if he does something stupid while we’re off?” 

You clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You worry too much Barnes. You ought to save some of that for the war.” 

Giggling, the girls–the names of which Bucky had supplied earlier and which you had promptly forgotten–siddled up. The one nearest to you was a brunette with a yellow skirt and a white flower in her hair. She took your hand and pulled you right up to the front row. “Come on soldier, the show is startin’.” 

You smiled and let yourself get lost among the din and the spectacle. 

From beside you, Steve waved at you and said your name.

He said your name again, and again. You finally tore your gaze away from the TV monitor mounted in the corner of the room. Steve was much, much bigger now; even taller than you. You were still adjusting to the change. Although he still had the same kind gaze that came with naturally always wanting to do what was right, and believing others wanted the same. You wondered if you had been like that once too. 

“We need to get him out of there,” he said. Your gaze flicked back over to the security footage that showed Bucky restrained in a mobile holding unit reinforced with metal supports and bullet proof glass. You had thought he was dead, and turns out Steve had thought the both of you were long gone. And apparently, fate wasn’t done with any of you yet. Bucky looked drastically different. His hair had grown out to his chin and he had lost the boyish swagger and proud glimmer in his eyes. But beneath the bulk and hardened exterior you still saw your friend.

“I know. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” you said. A year ago you had been similarly detained. But you were held in the Avengers Compound and were surrounded by friendly faces. The people here were not so sympathetic. You could feel the passing judgment not just on the Winter Soldier, but on you as well. 

“Maybe we could talk to Tony again,” Steve said. 

From his seat across the table Sam shook his head. “Did you not just hear him tell us he was fully committed to kissing the government’s ass? Steve, I understand this whole ‘peace at all costs’ approach, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get our way by talking this time.” 

“Sam’s right,” you said, mouth twisting into a defeated frown. Through the glass wall of the office you were sitting in you watched a certain Avenger weave her way through the crowded room. You were torn, but Natasha had made her choice. “We’re going to have to consider punching our way out of this one. I got off lucky, but things are different now. The whole world is watching what will happen to him. Compromise isn’t an option anymore.” 

Hands on his hips, Steve sighed. “Well, we aren’t going to be able to grab him and get out of here. And we need our gear back if we have any hopes of not getting locked up in a real cell.”

As if sensing your staring, Natasha looked over. Quickly you averted your eyes and suddenly found the tabletop very interesting. But you knew she had caught you. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been spending your mornings going out on runs with her and your evenings watching her try and fail to play chef. She could go on for hours talking about the world and bringing you up to speed. You didn’t know what was more interesting; that the world had turned upside down or the way her voice sounded as she helped you make sense of it all.

And you both enjoyed the newfound freedom neither of you believed you’d ever see nor deserved. You had thought you knew her well enough to predict which side of the so-called Sokovia Accords she would be on. Turned out maybe you didn’t.

Sharon Carter walked into the sound proofed room, hopefully bringing more news. She seemed to have a soft spot for Steve, and you and Sam by extension. She was also the only person here that seemed to want to communicate with the three of you.

On the screen a man sat down at a table across from Bucky. He shuffled some papers around and faced your friend as if in conversation. You stood with your hands braced on the table and watched intently. A glove covered the shiny metal of your right hand. Under your sleeve, the flexible steel plating melded with flesh just below your elbow.

You knew visual without audio would only get you so far, but you’d be damned if you could figure out how to turn it on. 

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon said, handing a slip of paper to Sam. 

He took one look at it and scoffed. “Bird costume? Come on.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said, trying to hide a faint smile. Now was not the time for jokes. Noticing the attention on the TV screen she pushed some buttons on a control panel and the audio switched on.

The camera showed a modestly dressed middle-aged man. “I’m not here to judge you,” he told Bucky. “I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?.” He glanced down at his notes and removed his glasses amicably. From another angle, part of the screen detailed an uncomfortably close profile of Bucky’s face. After a moment of silence, he went on. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” 

“My name is Bucky,” he answered, still not making eye contact with the man.

“Who is that man?” You asked, wary of the stranger who was supposedly the only person authorized to make contact with the Winter Soldier.

“He’s a psychologist sent by the United Nations just to conduct a primary evaluation. I’m not familiar with him personally,” Sharon said.

Steve studied the blurry photograph of Bucky that had been taken after he set the bomb off in Vienna. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon supplied.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” You could see the gears in his brain turning. Steve had always been the intuitive one.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him,” Sharon said, catching on.

Sam spoke up, unsure of where your brother was going. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” 

“Sam has a point,” you said. You were all too familiar with the Winter Soldier program. If you didn’t want to be found, you had the ability to make yourself dead to the world. “We were trained to blend in, to hide in plain sight. Even if he had to run, no one man would ever be able to find him.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads,” Steve asserted.

“Yeah, but to your point,” Sharon said, nodding at you. “That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

So there was a mole in the government, and he was probably in the building. Your gaze narrowed and you watched the people milling about outside your little bubble with a new suspicion. Whoever it was was obviously already ten steps ahead, you would have to wait until he made his next move. Beside you Sam stood from his seat, eyes similarly flicking from the screen to the windows and back. Steve looked like a racehorse ready to spring from its stall. 

From the corner of the room, the conversation continued on through the speakers, even if no one was paying much attention any longer. “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” The man asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You fear that…if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” 

The CIA agent, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Wolf Spider were too busy looking for a threat aimed at themselves to notice what was going on before them.

In the secured, private room five levels below the surface, Helmut Zemo received a message on his phone. A package of his had been delivered. Looking up, he wiped the false pretenses of innocence from his face. “We only have to talk about one.”

For a moment the room was plunged in darkness before emergency lights bathed the building in a red glow. The monitor with the video footage remained black. You looked at Sam. Now was your chance.

Steve looked to Sharon and she spoke without hesitation. “Sub-level five, east wing.”

No sooner than she had finished were the three of you bolting from the office and back the way you had been escorted in. You flew down the stairwell, concerned only for Bucky and getting to him before it was too late. But even super soldiers could only descend a dozen floors so fast. Heart racing, you jumped down the last flight, only to be met with a sign on the wall that read ‘Sub-Level 5; West.’ 

Without pause you pushed through the nearest doorway and wound your way through the maze of hallways. “This way!” Sam shouted. You and Steve rounded on your heels and went sprinting after him down a narrow corridor that served as a connection between the two wings of the building. The soft glow of emergency lighting lit the way, but between flashes the basement levels were pitch black. In the final stretch you overtook him and spilled out into another landing.  

The doors to the room on your right were destroyed. A dozen guards lay spread out on the floor unconscious. The chamber was completely silent, but you doubted the chase truly ended here. You knelt and checked the pulse of the agent at your feet. He was alive. 

“Help me. Help,” a voice cried out from further in the room. You picked up a discarded pistol and tucked it into the back of your waistband.

Steve was closer to the man than you and wasted no time picking him up and pinning him against the wall by his jacket collar. “Get up.” You’d never heard him sound so furious. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall,” the man replied vaguely. After staring down Steve he turned to face you with the gleam of a predator in his eyes.Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Steve, we need to find Bucky,” you said.

The echo of footsteps rang down the hall as Sam caught up. Right as he stepped through the door Bucky came lunging out of the shadows, metal fist swinging for Sam’s face. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out. Instead, a fist-sized chunk of the concrete wall blew away into pulverized chunks. But by the time he righted himself Bucky had already launched another attack. This time he grabbed him by the jaw and threw him all the way across the room to crash into the holding unit. The impact was enough to knock him out cold.

Steve looked torn between chasing after Bucky, checking on Sam, and further interrogating the psychologist. 

“Go,” you said, nodding toward Bucky. “I got him.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky and pushed him back out into the hall. 

You pulled the gun and trained it on the guilty party. Outside the exaggerated sound of two super soldiers fighting reverberated back to you. The shuffle of quick footwork followed by the concerning crash of a metal fist colliding with a wall at inhuman speed. 

“Your name. Now,” you demanded.

“My full title is Baron Helmut Zemo. But I think the more important question is, who are you?”

The brawl in the hallway had stopped, and the renewed silence made you uneasy. “Enough with the games.” You flicked the pistol toward the exit. “Move. I’m taking you upstairs.”

He began to pick his way slowly across the room. “Okay, you’ve got me beat. But I just need to know one thing. Steve seems to think you’ve miraculously been returned to him the same as before he became Captain America.” It bothered you, how Zemo felt he had the right to use your brother’s name. “Show me what you hide from them, Wolf Spider. Show me who you really are.”

“Shut up,” you said, annoyed with his riddled speech. But before you could make another move, Bucky came ramming back into the holding room, kicking right at your stomach. The impact forced you to take a knee and as you scrambled to stand up, Zemo pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to speak. “Мрамор.” 

Even over the rushes of blood pumping through your veins and the stomp of Bucky’s boots on the ground, you still heard it. Like a heat-seeking missile the word wormed its way into your brain and you faltered.

Panic seized you. You needed to get to Zemo. “Bucky, stop!” You yelled, desperate for any way to get around him for even a second. As you tried to stand he planted a foot and your chest and pushed you to the floor. The air left your lungs in a gust as your back slammed into the cement. The gun went flying from your grip and skittering across the floor. “Dick move, Barnes,” you said in a strained whisper.

“Восемь,” Zemo said, sounding closer now even though you couldn’t see him. You clamped your hands over your ears and screamed. Taking a chance you bashed your metal fist into Bucky’s knee and charged for Zemo. “Жжение.” His voice sent you careening off course as if repelled by his words. Fighting for any last scrap of control you punched the wall until your knuckles left bloody streaks. You counted back from ten in your head, jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering.

Your defenses broken, Bucky reengaged the fight. You scrambled, narrowly blocking his punches from beating your face in and counting you out. You reassessed and went on the offensive. You’d have to take him out before going for his handler.

Easier said than done.

“Рекрут.” You fought even harder, even as a fog crept up the back of your mind. Where was Steve?

“Снегопад.” Another nail in the coffin. He landed a punch to your face and a deep split opened on your cheek. You barely felt the blood run down to your chin.

“Пять.” You managed to land a right hook on Bucky’s weak side. You capitalized on the small victory. Seizing him by the shoulders you grappled with him for a moment before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell with a thud and you lined up a kick to the side of his head. You’d apologize later.

“Увядший.” The Wolf Spider crawled up the back of your spine, jaws gnashing at your brain for control. Your attention slipped for a fraction of a second. But that was all the time the Winter Soldier needed. He seized your ankle and pulled you to the ground. Before you could get your bearings he clamped his fist around your neck and threw you against the wall.

“послушный.” The Soldier rammed his knee into your stomach and you doubled over in an attempt to suck air back into your lungs. The room spun and the lights blurred together. A male Sokovian accented voice was all you could hear above the ringing in your ears.

An arm snaked around your throat from behind and forced you to stand. 

“An impressive attempt to be sure. But I’ve found that dogs can always be tamed.”

A fading voice in the back of your mind yelled at you to fight. Halfheartedly you tried to twist out of the Soldier’s hold.

“Одиннадцать.” A dam had cemented itself and separated you from your body.

“Пекин.” Your breathing became even and you looked to the man before you for instruction.

“Солдат?” He asked.

“Я готов отвечать.”

—

Natasha Romanoff walked through the chaos-ridden office, catching up to Tony Stark. Your swift absence hadn’t escaped her notice. She had almost chased after you herself. She’d desperately been wanting to talk to you since the Accords had been dropped in the team’s lap, but you had made yourself scarce since. She could tell that her decision had upset you, even if you were as unlikely to tell her so as you were to turn your back on Steve and Bucky. 

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” she said. Because a fight against three super soldiers would be much easier won with a trick of their own.

“Sure did,” the Iron Man replied. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button.” He stopped his nervous rant. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.” Fancy speak for the government not being comfortable with his access to the greatest weapon’s system on the planet.

Sharon Carter ran up to them, an earpiece providing information Natasha nor Tony were privy to. “Follow me,” she told them. 

They made their way downstairs onto the ground level. “The Winter Soldier has been unleashed,” Agent Carter said. “He’s on this floor in the lobby, probably trying to escape.”

“That’s a no-can-do from Agent Ross. We need a plan. Nat?” Tony looked expectantly toward the Black Widow.

“Why is it always up to me?” She asked, even as a plan formed in her mind.

“Because everyone knows my job is to look good and provide charity for you free loaders.”

Natasha narrowed her gaze at Tony’s watch. “Which outfit is that a part of?”

“It is as practical as it is fashionable. Glasses too,” he said.

“Tony, you’ll come up on him from behind. Get his attention, and try to disarm him if you can. Carter and I will be right behind.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be the bait, Romanoff.” 

Natasha motioned for Sharon and they picked their way around the edge of the sun-lit lobby. Civilian workers fleeing for their lives rushed around them in a current, but the women stood as solid as stone. The sound of combat reached her ears before she was able to see into the main lobby. A metal fist pounded against flesh and man after man crumpled to the floor. The snap of a bone being broken and the subsequent screams. 

Natasha rounded the corner into the foyer just as a terrible supersonic blast flooded the area. Tony had stunned the attacker if only for a moment. To her horror it wasn’t Barnes standing there, but you. She couldn’t see your face as you moved to pummel Tony, but she knew what she’d see. A figure of a ghost from the Red Room flashed before her eyes.

A gunshot shook her out of her stupor and she ran after Sharon into the fray. You elbowed Tony in the face before punching him in the gut hard enough to send him flying into a table several feet away. 

Before you could finish the job Sharon ran at you, forcing you to block a kick and a jab. You wound up an answering punch that would’ve cracked her sternum but she ducked away and you missed. As you recovered, Natasha lodged a knee into your stomach before crouching down to jab you in the groin. She didn’t want to fight you, but she would. All it took was one look into your eyes to separate the Wolf Spider from the person she knew you were.

Sharon landed a roundhouse kick to the head but as she wound up for a second assault you caught her leg and hurled her down onto a table. The legs broke underneath with a clatter. 

As you were turned around, Natasha took the opportunity to seize you from behind and flip herself up onto your shoulders. With anyone else she would’ve been able to floor them from this position. But the Wolf Spider intimately knew all of the Black Widow’s moves. All those years ago, you had taught her much of the combat she still used today. 

She rained down blows on your head as you crossed the lobby. She grunted as she threw her fists down over and over in a vain attempt to get you to drop her. Instead you carried her to a table and slammed her down. Before she could recover, you clamped your hand around her neck and choked her out. 

Scrabbling at your metal forearm, Natasha’s face burned red. She felt her windpipe being crushed under your grip. But even under the eclipse of death’s shadow, the scariest thing was what they’d done to you. She knew you’d tear yourself up about it later, and worse she knew no one here would understand.

On the verge of passing out, she managed one last choked whisper. “You could at least recognize me.” Maybe, as Natasha’s heart was shattered in two, she could pass some of that anguish onto you.

If anything you only squeezed harder and she felt the strength waste away from her muscles. 

Seemingly out of nowhere you were shoved off of her. She gasped and pulled as much air in as she could through her bruised throat. All she could manage was to stare up at the ceiling and blink away the spots from her vision.

Rallying, Natasha pushed herself up and saw Tony standing over you with his mechanical gloved hand extended. She coughed and asked, “How?” 

You were on your knees, hands clamped tightly over your ears and fingers digging into the back of your head.

  “Lucky guess,” Tony said. “Think of it like a dog whistle, but for super soldiers. And also like blow your head off levels of loud. Had to estimate the frequency after getting beaten half to death. But it looks like I’ve outwitted the killing machine.”

Natasha was frozen. You’d just about suffocated her, but a large part of her still wanted to yell at Tony and tell him to cut it out. “Does it hurt?” 

“Well, it’s no symphony, I can tell you that.” 

She threw a glare in his direction.

“I don’t know. Ballpark? Somewhere between a migraine and an ice pick through the ear.”

A dozen more security personnel came flooding in. They rounded in a circle around you and half of them readied their guns. The rest assaulted you with tasers. You fell to the floor in a series of violent spasms and Natasha looked away. 

“Let’s get this one ready for transport,” one barked.

“Natasha, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice still raw.

“That psycho almost killed you.” He always got assertive when he was worried. “You see, this is why we need the Accords. To keep chaos from breaking out in refuges of peace for godsake.”

Natasha looked back at where your limp body was being dragged away. She wished she could go back to before any of this started. She was terrified that she had missed her chance to tell you how she felt. “He’s not a psycho.”

“Then you and I have very different definitions of the word.” 

“Stark.” The disappointed voice of Secretary Ross called.

“We have the Wolf Spider in custody sir.” Tony adjusted his tie.

“And Barnes, Wilson, and the other Rogers are all in the wind. One out of four is three less than I expected of you.”

But Natasha had had enough of Thadeus Ross for a lifetime. She walked away wishing that you were by her side instead. Isolated from the beaurucrats and politicians and the bridge with Steve having been thoroughly burned, she felt lost. All around her the pieces of the life she had worked so hard to build lay scattered. The overwhelming urge to hit something surged. How did she get here?

—

You sat by Natasha under a tree in the forest behind the Avengers’ Compound. The chirping birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves were the only sounds that broke the silence out here. Everything at the compound was a blur of light and rush of movement all the time. You couldn’t get two seconds without someone needing something from you. So you had developed the habit of sneaking out and picking a random direction to pass an afternoon. 

Natasha had a book in her hands. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and thrown over her shoulder. You liked when she put it up because you could see her face more clearly. 

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy,” she read. You ran your hand through the grass and dirt absentmindedly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” You had been listening, but not to what she said, but how she spoke it. “It’s just I’ve read Gatsby before. Jay is a dreamer, but he still loses everything. It’s not fair. He didn’t know any better but to follow his heart.”

“That’s not how I see it,” she replied. “Listen. ‘His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was’.” She shifted closer, leg almost bumping your own. Uncomfortable with the proximity bordering on affection you subtly moved away. “Jay is chasing a life that he can no longer have. And in the process he ruins himself, and the woman he loves. He should’ve known better.”

Overhead the branches had become indistinguishable from one another and instead blended together as one entrapment. The fading orange glow cast by the setting sun reminded you to start heading back. The woods would be near impossible to navigate without the light. You stood and reached a hand out to help Natasha up. She grasped it tightly and instead pulled you down to her.

“You should’ve known better.” A haunted despair paled her features.

“What?”

The crack of fracturing bones echoed throughout the lonely clearing and Natasha cried out. Your hand had begun to squeeze hers tight enough to crush it. You willed yourself to let go but your stubborn metal fist refused to obey. 

“You destroy everything you love, even if you never say the words out loud.”

A bullet hole slowly materialized in the middle of her forehead. Blood seeped down her face and she smiled a bloody smile. 

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

You jerked yourself awake with a gasp. The dream faded from your mind almost immediately, as had the once before where you’d been stuck in a cave, and the one before that where you’d slaughtered an entire family.

You took a second to examine the unfamiliar environment. The cell you were in was bright and clean, and the camera assured there was no privacy. Across from you was an identical unit. In fact, the entire room was just an octagon of prison cells. 

You rubbed at your face, only for the movement to be followed by a metallic clanking. Both of your wrists were manacled with thick iron cuffs which were anchored to the wall with a chain. Your left wrist was chaffed and dried blood coated your hand. Alarm surged through you. 

No, you would rather die than play prisoner and puppet for anyone else again. 

You stood up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But when you tried to step away from the wall you were yanked back, not by your wrists, but by a chain around your neck. Coughing, you fell back against the wall and pulled at the tight restraint. All you succeeded in doing was irritating the inflamed skin underneath. 

“Hey buddy, are you okay?”

You snapped your attention to the voice. You didn’t recognize the guy who had spoken, but the man in the cell next to him looked familiar. Your head throbbed as you tried to remember. He had short brown hair and sat hunched over on a bench, just watching. 

“Fine,” you said. Your voice sounded about as shitty as the rest of your body felt. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Scott. You actually don’t know me cause we haven’t met, but I fought with your brother. He’s a really nice guy. Of course you know that.” You shot him a glare. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Confusion spun your battered brain around even further. Your brother. You had a brother named Steve. Steve was small so you had to–wait, that wasn’t quite right. Steve’s strength had caught up to the size of his will. He was a soldier. The Soldier. Солдат. A fresh pang wracked your head. No. A captain. Captain America. 

The room felt cold but your hand was clammy. Sweat dampened your hair as if you had caught a fever. You squeezed your eyes shut. Why were these lights so damn bright? Where were you? 

“Hey, what’s going on? I can’t see into the cell. Is he back?”

You knew that voice. You trusted it as well as you may trust anyone. If only you could think harder. You opened your eyes and again saw the familiar-looking man. The name came to you this time. “Clint,” you said.

Hope cleared some of the melancholic fog that had marred his features.

“Where are we? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

When he spoke, it was reserved, but you could tell he was holding back. “Steve called me. The Avengers fought. Some of them are picking up the mess. The rest of us landed our asses in here. You though…you were already here when they brought us in. I wish I could tell you why.”

“It’s Sam,” the man in the unit directly to the right of yours said. He banged on the wall for effect. “You were with me and Steve back in Berlin. Bucky was controlled and he went after us. He knocked me out and by the time I woke everyone was gone. I met up with Steve and Bucky outside, but you were gone. I’m sorry. If we would have known…”

“It’ll come back eventually.” Even if you could barely remember your own name now, somehow you knew this. The memories always came back, especially the bad ones. 

“I should tell you, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up,” Clint said. Scott looked away. “The first two times you didn’t say anything or acknowledge us. You just pulled away as hard as you could until you made yourself pass out.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. So they had all received a front row view of the mindless monster you were. “What is this place, anyway?”

“They call it the Raft. It’s an American prison unit that they dropped into the middle of the Atlantic.” Barton’s voice had taken on an undercurrent of anger. “It’s where they stick the worst of the worst.”

“Is anyone else here?” You asked.

“Wanda. Probably. I don’t know, they put her in a separate transport.” Your heart dropped. Why would they bring her into this? She was just a kid. And with her powers, you could only imagine what they were doing to keep her locked up. 

You didn’t ask if there was a plan. The atmosphere here wasn’t exactly revolutionary. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested as best as you could.

Sometime later–you were sure the room had been built to be purposefully disorienting–the door slid open with a whir. In walked Tony Stark, his left arm in a sling and sporting a terrible black eye.

Clint stood up and began to slowclap, finally finding a target to take his anger out on. “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He sknows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

The goading worked, drawing Tony’s attention away from you. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on.”

He spit on the ground in defiance. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey.” Stark gestured at the barred cells, gaze catching on you for a moment. “You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint walked closer to the glass of his cage. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right?” The two estranged teammates stood eye to eye.  “That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.” A long time ago that didn’t used to mean you either. 

“Because you broke the law.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Clint turned his back on Tony. “La, la, la, la, la…”

“Alright, you’re all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?” Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Clint he walked away. 

Barton rounded on him. “You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it,” he said, slamming on the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark,” Scott said with as much menace in his voice as he could conjure. You wondered how a civilian like him had gotten wrapped up in this fight.

“Who are you?” Stark walked right past him and onto Sam’s unit.

“Come on, man.”

“How’s Rhodes?” Wilson asked, not as willing to bite as Clint had been.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomrrow. So…fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?”

You couldn’t see Sam from your cell, but you hoped that he’d tell Stark off too.

“You’re the good cop now?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Stark messed with his watch. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” You looked up at the security camera in the corner of your cell. Could he really do that? “Just look,” he went on. “Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.” A little picture of a clearly dead man appeared out of thin air. “Clealy, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam interrupted. You wished you were in his eyeline so you could shake your head no in silent protest. But you didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to pick a verbal fight right now so you stayed quiet. “Look, I’ll tell you…but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

Sam spoke so quietly you were sure without super hearing you wouldn’t have heard. “They went to an old Soviet-HYDRA bunker in Siberia. The fake doctor is going to unleash five more Winter Soldiers.”

“Okay. Wilson, I won’t forget this,” he said with fake malice in his voice to impress the cameras. 

He turned to you next. “Rogers.” He saluted. Shame burned your face. You felt like a wild animal on display. And Tony Stark’s presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one since you presumed he was largely at fault for the team’s current predicament. “You’re not going to go all Terminator on me again, are you?”

You stared at him blankly, not moving from your place on the floor in the middle of the cell. 

“Really? Nothing. I just came up with that one. Any messages from you to your brother I can deliver when I find him?” 

“Tell him after all this he needs to get his ass as far from trouble as possible. Tell him I’m right where I should be.”

“How about I just say you’ll send him a postcard?” He quipped, walking away.

“Stark,” you called. “Lay a hand on Steve and I will find you.” 

He didn’t turn back, but he gave a thumbs up on his way out.

—

You don’t think you could ever tire of the view before you. For most of your life you never believed you’d travel outside New York City, but here you were on the other side of the world. The waters below the ship were as blue and clean as great artists imagined in their scenes. The current lapped gently at the hull and you let the sound wash through you. Ahead, snow-capped mountains rose into the cloudy sky. The buildings and streets you were so used to being surrounded by in the city were replaced by miles of undisturbed woodland. The sky was overcast, but calm for now. Mist hung in the air and clung to your jacket. Maybe it would storm later, maybe it wouldn’t. You found peace in the apprehension. 

“Hey,” Natasha said. You hadn’t heard her come up. She joined you at the railing and pushed a phone into the water.

“How’s the Good Secretary?”

“I’ve got him chasing his tail in D.C. We are officially in the wind.”

Steve and Natasha had broken you out of the Raft three days ago. Since then you’d decided to split up while the heat died down. He had wanted you to go with him, but you couldn’t look at your brother without feeling crushed by six decades worth of guilt. You still thought he would be safer without you, but you couldn’t escape the disappointed look on his face. Hurting him was like kicking a little puppy.

“Steve would love this place,” you said. Natasha took in the view while you admired her. Her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. The wind blew strands of it about in a way that told you God indeed played favorites. “He loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. Kid used to draw everything. Our old apartment, back alleys, the sky. He wouldn’t know what to do if he saw all of this.” 

“You’re worried about him.” 

“Really? Was I being that obvious?” You were tired, but you smiled anyway.

“The first time I met Steve he couldn’t make heads or tails of the shirt on his back, much less anything else humanity had changed. Yesterday, he was piloting the most advanced jet on the planet. Sounds like he’s the same resilient kid you grew up with. Except now he can throw a man a couple dozen yards.”

“I think he could literally be invincible and I’d still worry,” you admitted.

“I think that’s how family is supposed to work. And if it helps, he’s got Sam to watch his back.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” You asked. You bit your lip nervously and scanned the grayish-blue horizon. “I almost killed you. I mean I would have killed you if Stark hadn’t…” You’d opened Pandora’s Box and couldn’t stop all of the guilt from pouring out. “And all those years ago in the Red Room, what I did to you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“Because I know who you really are. And that wasn’t you. Never was.” She said it so fervently that you almost believed her.

“But that’s just the thing. It was me. All of that blood is on my hands. If something happened to you, that would be on me.” And I don’t think I would survive without you. You left the rest unsaid, but it hung in the air just out of reach. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words and I lost it.”

“And you came back.” You found your mind wandering off into the mountains afar. “Hey look at me.” She laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back from your reverie. Her warm breath fanned across your cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I can’t shake this feeling, Nat.” You heaved a shuddering breath. “That horrible voice is always in the back of my head. I’m so scared that one day it’ll drown me out.” Your eyes hurt from the force of holding back tears. “Please don’t let it drown me.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around you in a supportive hug. “I’ll never give up on you,” she said. “You can always come back to me.” You cautiously hugged her back and draped yourself over her. You concentrated on what was around you. The smell of the sea-salted air, the warmth of her body, the churn of the boat's engine.

You let her go and cleared your throat, rubbing harshly at your eyes. “Me too,” you said. “I mean, I’m here for you. ‘Til kingdom come.” You’d always fight for her. Truth is you had been for a long time now, you just didn’t realize it. 

“You’re not the only one who’s done unspeakable things,” she whispered, as if preoccupied with reliving some awful memory. You weren’t the only one with demons intent on ruining any scrap of peace.

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” You inspected her hoodie and all of its familiarity. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she lied, even as she messed with the ends of the sleeves that went well past her hands.

“Mhm. So did you bring any of my clothes for me or…?”

“I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Natasha said. Her voice was shaky with frustration and pent-up anxiety. “I was so worried. I thought that this would be all I had left to remember you by. I kept thinking that we would get into the Raft and you wouldn’t be there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. The week and a half you were locked up for you hadn’t thought about where she might be. You told yourself you were too preoccupied with Steve and Bucky to otherwise focus. But you knew to think about Natasha was to admit you cared deeply for her. That was a battle you weren’t ready to surrender. “I didn’t know.” But maybe now was the time to lay down arms.

“That’s right you didn’t know. You didn’t think. That’s the problem you think you’re invincible and you run headfirst into danger time and time again.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Except it’s not just you anymore, Rogers. There are people that care about you and how you act affects them. When you make a stupid move it’s not just you who suffers the consequences.” Her voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“I can’t just sit around when something goes bad. You can’t ask me to do that.” You had so much time, so many lives to make up for. And that came about by means of action.

“I thought that you were dead. Don’t you understand that?” Natasha’s eyes were full of sorrow and accusation. Your cheeks flushed and you stared into the icy waters. She had every right to be mad. “When they dragged you away I was sure they were going to execute you. Again.” 

The reference stung. When the Red Room found out you’d broken your programming they’d practically beaten you to death in front of Natasha before shipping you back to HYDRA. The scars still burned in your dreams.

An apology formed on your lips. “I know,” she said. The bitterness had burned itself out of her tone. What was left you couldn’t describe. A profound understanding, edges brightened by the hope of a fresh start.

An unspoken something lingered in the cool morning air. 

Natasha grabbed your gloved hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. She leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. A warmth bloomed in your chest. 

You thought that, just maybe, you’d found where you were supposed to be.

[strstab]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐣.𝐦

summary ; kie’s fever got to you so jj helps you feel better

pairing ; jjaprilbank x fem!reader

notes ; sick readerrr, bath w jj, besitosssss, body lovin, cuddling, our beloved sock, & tinkerbell 🧚

a/n ; so this was actually meant to be out earlier this morning but then got caught up in a family function.. so sorry abt that. ALSO. i was going to post something tuesday but instead of posting it i accidentally deleted it… so shopping w the girls probably won’t happen 😭

after a sleep over at kie’s last weekend, you’ve felt yourself feeling more like shit by the day. on wednesday you were coughing up a storm and now you couldn’t feel your throat or stop sneezing.

you called off of work right after another restless night. jj was at john b’s and kie was the reason you were sick so you couldn’t hang out with her. you were on your third tinkerbell movie with a pile of tissues next to you.

you tried sleeping the sickness away during the day but even with the large amount drowsiness that was killing you slowly, you kept waking up with the same sore throat that wouldn’t seem to disappear. it had been like that since you were feeling symptoms so now you’ve been sleeping like 4 hours a night. or day.

you blew your nose into the tissue and then threw it into the pile. you felt soft fur rub against your neck which meant your cat had joined you in bed.

“sock, please help me. don’t you have powers to make your dear old mom feel better?” you whined just for your cat to give you a blank stare. you huffed and sat up, stretching your arms. you hadn’t gone up to do anything since the second movie started.

you dragged your feet all the way to the kitchen, grabbing a banana off the counter and peeling it open. you took a big bite as you searched the fridge for something else to munch on. there wasn’t much in it. the last person who did groceries was jj. the only things he usually brought home were beer, hot pockets, cookies, an 8th of weed (which he definitely picked it up from his dealer on aisle 10), and cat food. all of which only lasted a week in your house.

you found a cup of strawberry yogurt and decided to diy your brunch. you grabbed a bowl and poured the yogurt into it, then cutting up the banana you got from the counter and placing the bits into the bowl. ‘what a chef i am’ you thought.

you ate your ‘meal’ over the counter while scrolling through instagram. you were watching an interview from a netflix show when you felt strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into their hold. you squealed and looked above to see blonde hair making it’s way to your neck.

wet kisses were placed all over your soft spot. “baby, i’m sickk” you whined pulling away from him.

“i know. and?” he pulled you back, this time holding you tighter.

“i don’t wanna get you sick,” you sniffle and he shrugs. guess getting sick wasn’t a big deal for him. but to be honest, he’s always had a strong immune system.

you were conversing about each other’s day, yours sounding quite boring. he was ranting about how john b wouldn’t let him redecorate the cats ass and how pope smacked the shit out of him while waxing his board.

your responses were short. your throat hurt too much to be talking a lot, so did your stomach to be honest. everything ached. you hopped up from your seat on top of the counter and went to get a bottle of pills. jj watched as you took two pills in your hand and swallowed them with a small cup of water. “what hurts mama?”

“more like what doesn’t hurt.” you sarcastically answered. he stared at you for a minute before smiling and picking you up bridal style. “jj what the hell?!”

your feet were kicking air and your arms wrapped themselves around jj’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. his hand was supporting your back as he made his way to your bedroom.

he placed a kiss on your lips and sat you on the edge of the bed. “did you get any sleep last night?” he asked rubbing the eye bags that were forming below.

you shook your head as he peeped the pile of tissues that sat next to your laptop. “stay right here i’ll be back okay?”

“i mean.. where else would i go” you grumbled as he ran off to the bathroom.

you sat there on your phone, continuously sniffling while he did his thing in the bathroom. quickly after, he ran back out to you and picked you up swiftly, dropping your phone on your bed.

you laughed out loud (lol😜😜😜) as he brought you to the sink in your candle lit bathroom. he stripped you of your clothes, eyes taking in your body that was perfect in every way.

you felt your face heat up when you noticed him, arms quickly trying to cover yourself. “stop staring.”

he chuckled and kissed your lips softly. “just appreciating what’s mine, princess,” he murmured.

you let out a sound of annoyance. “c’mon baby, you know you’re prefect.” he picked you up and placed you in the tub. your muscles immediately relaxed as the heated water touched your skin.

“too hot? cold?”

“‘s perfect, j.” you smiled at his thoughtfulness. he really didn’t have to do this, but it made you happy knowing he cared enough to do so.

everything about the room right now was just calming.

you inhaled the steam and aroma from the cookie scented candle that followed it. as jj massaged your back with soap you let out a hum of pleasure. he peppered kisses on your shoulder and upper back while you relaxed in the water. “mmm, i could fall asleep right now,”

“yeah? seeing how tired you’ve been it seems like you could fall asleep anywhere.”

after your bath you guys cuddled up in bed. his request obv. you protested because you didn’t wanna get him sick but he still didn’t care. he went on a rant while drying you up about how all he wanted to do was be close to you.

so now, you laid head on his chest as his fingers were tangled in your hair. there was still a pinch of guilt in you for having him this close knowing you could get him sick but you couldn’t deny the fact that this felt amazing.

tinkerbell played on the tv instead of the laptop but you weren’t even watching either way. your eyes were half lidded as sleep tried taking you over. you tried fighting it, wanting to appreciate the time you were spending with your boyfriend, but it was winning by a lot.

even though all you were doing was watching a movie in comforting silence, it still meant something to you. so, you wanted to be up for it.

he moved his hand to the side of your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it. “you’re falling asleep on me, love.”

there was no response from you but your eyes were still half open. he patted your side and you perked up. “sorry, what’d you say?”

you felt jj’s chest abruptly shake as he giggled above so you got up fully to look at him. “what’s funny?”

“nothing. just how cute you look half asleep.” he smiled and pushed your head back down to his chest. “jus get rest babe. you need it.”

you buried your face in his hoodie and dozed off while his thumb caressed you softly. maybe all you need was your boyfriend with you to get the rest of a lifetime.

yeah yeahhhh ooohhhhaahahshiegsksba

hey yall. hope u enjoyed thatttt. so if you read my a/n you’d know this was meant to be up earlier this day. (april 1st) but i got caught up in a family reunion kinda thing so yeah..

also i had shopping with the girls (cleo, kie and sarah) in my drafts but i accidentally deleted it bc my fingers tend to touch before reading what it’s going to touch… so yeah that’s gone. -(edit) i tried editing my notes and ALMOST deleted this post too…

y’all know my requests are always open so feel free to request!! or just talk to meee. entertain me guys i’ve been bored

but anyways… i’m cuddling with my cat so i’ll catch you guys laterrrr.

[xxsabitoxx]

You Wish

Gojo x ex-student reader

Warnings: nude photo taking, sexting, phone sex, FaceTime sex, pet names, age gap but reader is still of age!!!!

A/N: I say I’m not a Gojo simp, yet out of the JJK characters he’s the one I’ve written the most for LMAOO. This was supposed to be a mini smut but it turned into an average length fic lol

Word count: 3.5k

You were kneeling on a plush rug, led lights lit up your room and covered it in purple. A floor to ceiling mirror towered in front of you as you got yourself into position. What were you doing exactly? You were taking pictures to send to your former teacher. It wasn’t exactly the proudest moment of your life.

“I’m sure he gets hundreds of photos sent to him a day.” You scoffed as you snapped a few pics to test the waters. Nothing but a matching set of lacy blue lingerie covered your body. There was barely anything left to the imagination. It wasn’t a secret that Gojo Satoru was…well… a bit of a whore.

Women and men flocked to him, absolutely taken by his beauty, and he was never one to turn anyone away. He never had a seriously relationship either, just hook ups and fuck buddies. Though he had the rare occurrences of a “girlfriend” that he cheated on regardless. None of them ever mattered to him.

Though, as stupid as it was, you were hoping to be one of those rare occurrences. Of course you knew better than to go after the man when he was your teacher. Now though, you were two years out of Jujutsu tech. You just hoped he would see you ask an adult, maybe even toy with the idea of fucking you.

You spread your legs a little more, knees digging firmly into the floor. You pushed forward, making your chest the main object in the photo. Only wandering eyes would notice you nearly exposing yourself below the waist. You prayed Gojo would be smart enough to look a little further.

Your plan was simple, take some sexy photos and maybe even a nude or two. Pretend to text them to a fake boyfriend and accidentally send them to Gojo instead. Then you’d cross your fingers and hope he responds after you send a “panicked” apology text. It would be the perfect way to show him.

You shifted onto your ass, bending both knees and spreading your legs. You leaned back, phone covering your face as you snapped a few pictures. Once you were satisfied you switched positions. This time you laid flat on your stomach facing the mirror, arching your back so your lace covered panties would be seen. Another series of photos were taken.

After thirty minutes you had at least 70 photos to filter through. “Maybe one nude one wouldn’t hurt…” you pulled the straps of your bra down. Your breasts spilled out and you snapped a picture. “Eh, maybe not…yet at least.” You used your arm to cover your breasts, snapping another mirror picture. You pulled yourself back together a moment later.

You made your way over to your bed, falling onto it face first. “Now let’s see…which ones would he like…” you scrolled through each photo, by the time you were done you only had 12 photos in different angles and positions you liked. “It’s nearly 2am…hopefully he’s up.” You were beginning to feel giddy.

White light shone on your face as you opened the message app. You hadn’t talked to Gojo in about a week, but earlier in the day you had made sure to reach out to him. That way, accidentally sending him a photo would be a little more believable since he’d be higher in your contacts. Your fingers shook as you selected your two favorite photos.

Y/N: here you go baby, just like you asked for. Do you like them? <3

The message with the photos was marked as “delivered.” obviously you had turned your read receipts off. Now you held no shame, kicking your feet wildly as you prayed for a little bubble to pop up and signify he was typing. Five minutes of staring at your phone screen passed before the message bubble finally popped up.

Gojo <3: oh? I don’t think you meant to send these to me, Angel.

Angel? You nearly threw your phone, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you forced yourself not to respond right away. Your eyes shifted to your alarm clock, watching the minutes tick by before picking up your phone again. Precisely three minutes had passed, but it had felt like an eternity.

Y/N: OMG!! I’m so sorry! This is so embarrassing 😭

You held your breath, nearly jumping out of your own skin when Gojo began texting back immediately. After what felt like another eternity, the message you hoped to see popped up. He had taken the bait easily, it made your stomach do a backflip.

Gojo <3: don’t be embarrassed! You look beautiful :)))

Y/N: you think so? I’m not sure how to feel about them. I took more though! I was hoping he’d like them.

Gojo <3: I do! You took more?

Gojo <3: who’s he? Does my little y/n have a boyfriend?

My y/n? You jumped out of bed, jumping around your room to get the nerves out before leaping to your phone. It was stupid how giddy he made you.

Y/N: I did! And no he’s not my boyfriend, just someone I’m talking to

Gojo <3: sending him stuff like that and he doesn’t even have a title? Maybe it’s a good thing you sent them to me instead :))

On the other end of the phone, Gojo Satoru laid in his bed. The thing is, he wasn’t alone. His latest fling was passed out beside him, their clothes scattered across the floor. He smiled at the screen, admiring the photos you accidentally sent him. If he was lucky, he could sweet talk you into sending more.

Y/N: Are my eyes mistaking me? Is Gojo Satoru flirting with me?

He let out a breathy laugh, soft enough to not wake the woman beside him. Not that he really cared. It was rather odd you texted him again. He had been thinking about you ever since your conversation earlier in the day. Though he certainly didn’t think he’d get this lucky.

Gojo <3: it’s hard not to when you send photos like that. Accident or not… you look fucking beautiful.

Y/N: I’m blushing. I have so many more I could send, would you like to critique them?

Bold. He liked that a lot. He wasn’t picky with his women, but there were certainly things that he preferred more on some than others. In particular, he liked when someone matched his energy. It was part of the reason you two got along so well when he was your teacher. Even though it was two years ago and you were an adult… something still felt wrong about this.

It excited him.

Gojo <3: oh absolutely. If it makes you feel any better, I can send you some of mine :)))

Some of his? You let out a squeal that time, desperately wishing he was right in front of you. This was going way better than you could have ever anticipated. You inhaled deeply, selecting a few more pictures. You were going to leave the half nude one for last.

Y/N: what do you think? Would he enjoy this?

Y/N: also, it’s only fair you send me some as well >:)

Satoru stared at his phone, plush lips parted slightly as he took in your new photos. What he wouldn’t give to be in your room right now, treating you how you deserved to be treated. Just thinking about you dressed like that all alone had him twitching to life.

You looked utterly perfect. Eager to be destroyed on his…oh he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. He opened a folder on his phone, selecting three pics of him in nothing but his underwear. Even in his thirties, he still had it.

Gojo <3: oh he’d be insane if he didn’t.

Gojo <3: You look fucking perfect.

Gojo <3: what do you think of these, Angel?

Your mouth was hanging open, eyes greedily soaking up every pixel. “That’s not fucking fair!” You zoomed in, zoomed back out, flipped to the next one. He had no right to be that damn attractive. You did this for a solid two minutes before typing back a response.

Y/N: Fuck. I’m speechless

You chewed on your inner cheek, the twitch between your thighs was becoming too persistent to ignore. “Maybe… it wouldn’t hurt…” you flipped yourself onto your back. One hand held your phone above your face while the other began roaming your skin. You waited patiently for Gojo to send a response, all the while you kept staring at the meal you’d been given.

Satoru on the other hand was unknowingly mimicking you. Five pictures of you total and he was still feeling greedy. He wanted… no he needed more. What he really needed was you in person. For now, he’d settle for the screen. As his hand lowered towards his cock he was beginning to question if his screen would even be able to satisfy him this time around.

Gojo <3: did you not expect me to look like that?

Gojo <3: I’m offended, i thought you’d think highly of me

He was baiting you into praising him. He wanted to see your true colors. Surely if you were entertaining him for this long, you were interested. “So cute.” He whispered softly as your responses popped up on his screens

Y/N: I expected nothing less from my wonderful sensei

Y/N: quite crazy to me that you looked like this all those years. So close to me without even realizing. Not even my imagination did you justice.

You smirked as you hit send, tugging your bra down again. Your hand didn’t hesitate as you grabbed your own breast, fingers rolling your nipple until you drew a whimper from yourself. You’d get off one way or another so long as you kept texting him.

Gojo <3: not even your imagination? Did my little y/n use to fantasize about me?

You moaned softly, thighs parting as you read the text. “Still do… still am…” you tugged at your nipples, you needed to know what he was doing on the other side of that phone screen. You hoped he was toying with himself while you did too, imagining it only fueled you.

Y/N: all the time. I had the biggest crush on you

Gojo <3: had? You don’t have a crush on me anymore :( ?

Y/N: If I said I did, what would you do?

Satoru smiled, his hand was wrapped around his base just under the sheets. He drew his hand up slowly, scrolling back up to your pictures before typing a response to your text. You were teasing him, he loved it. He could already begin to imagine the things you could send him if he said the right things. Hell maybe you’d even invite him over… let him fuck you properly.

He could see it now. That little lingerie set torn to prices, your breasts exposed and nipples swollen from his hands. The way your breasts would jiggle has he buried himself balls deep in what he imagined was a tight pussy. He’d record it, he’d have to. All your sweet noises, the way you’d suck him in. The way your whole body would probably jiggle when he pounded into you. He needed to see it, he needed to feel it.

Gojo <3: I’d ask you to elaborate. Tell me, Y/n, what did these little fantasies consist of?

Your hand was slipping under the band of your panties, breathing picking up as you felt your heartbeat in your clit. It was working better than you could have ever imagined, you knew you’d hand wouldn’t satisfy what you wanted. Only Gojo could… though you may be able to sedate your needs with a toy. For now you’d just use your hand, it was another version of edging yourself.

Y/N: how scandalous of you to ask me! A lady never shares that information :)

Gojo <3: awwwe you can’t make an exception for me? Or maybe I can help you out…

Two more pictures were sent to you, this time they were far more suggestive. The first was of Gojo with no shirt on, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips accompanied by a very clear outline of his erection. The second was of him in nothing but a towel around his waist. A teasing v-line dipped under the towel he was tugging down, revealing a trail of hair and just a little bit of the base of his cock. You audibly groaned at the sight.

Y/N: mmmm maybe a couple more pics and I’ll be willing to reveal a thing or two

Without a second of delay, the text box appeared again. After a moment one single picture appeared on your screen. This time, it was a full on nude. You gasped, hand freezing before you even slipped between your folds. Before you realized it, you were sitting up on your bed to admire the pic better. You couldn’t decide where you wanted to focus your attention first. He was laying on his bed, the camera had clearly been propped up on something to get such an angle.

It was as if you were laying between his legs, a full shot of his cock, toned torso and messy white hair. His eyes were lidded but you could still see the startling blue of his irises. His cock was speared in something shiny, it could have been his own precum or maybe even spit. His hand was wrapped around his length about half way up. The tip looked a deep shade of pink, slightly swollen from being abused by his hand. On top of all of that, he was just as large as you hoped he’d be.

If you weren’t light headed before, you certainly were now.

Y/N: how about you call me instead?

You nearly threw your phone again after sending a message like that. You could at least force some confidence over text, over the phone would be wildly different. You were starting to regret the choice until your phone began to vibrate, Gojo’s name lit up your screen. You tried to calm yourself while clicking the pickup button and bringing your phone to your ear. “That was quick.” Your voice was hushed, a little hoarse even. “I couldn’t resist a text like that.” His voice was equally as quiet. You had to wonder if he had someone in his bed with him.

“I’m flattered.” You laid back on your bed, it wasn’t as scary as you thought. “Well, you know me well enough, y/n. Flattery is my specialty. Now…” he trailed off, you could hear something rustling. He must have been getting himself comfortable. “Tell me about these little fantasies you have.” You sighed, twisting a finger around the hand of your panties and pulling them taut. “Well… do you want the detailed versions? Or the quick versions.” A breathy laugh passed through the phone. “Detailed please. Tell me all of it.” Satoru had gone into his bathroom, the fluorescent lights making him squint.

“Almost always, we were alone in a classroom together. You’d be giving me extra lessons… though you’d figure out right away that I was just pretending. I just wanted to get you alone… attempt to seduce you.” You felt a slight tremble in your hands, you started picking at your panties a little quicker. “Is that so? How’d you attempt to seduce me then?” Satoru’s hand was shamelessly wrapping around his base, pumping it to life. It wasn’t even difficult for him, he was already half hard from your photos alone. Now your voice was sending him over the edge.“You know I always went with a uniform skirt… I’d plan on forgoing my underwear that day…”

You trailed off, hand reaching down to slip past the band of your panties. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, Angel. But I’d love to know what you’d do now… to try and seduce me.” You’re retelling stories from when you were still his student, that realization was making him feel a little odd despite the lust clouding his senses. You struggled to swallow, mind running wild with ideas. “Well… maybe I’d be doing something like this. A little bolder than things I’d try back then. Sending you nudes…” you heard a shaky sigh. On the other side of your phone Satoru was pumping himself slowly. “Keep going.”

“I’d maybe even send you a video of myself masturbating. Moaning your name and telling you how badly I wished you were here.” Your fingers found your clit, you started rubbing quick circles to produce shaky whines into the phone. “Yeah? What would you say to me in those videos? I’d like details.” You paused for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “How about I just show you.” Instead of ruining the mood by hanging up, you clicked the button to switch the call to a video. Satoru accepted the switch almost instantly. You were greeted by messy white hair, flushed cheeks and the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom.

All the while you were positioning the camera over your body, hoping your arm wouldn’t give out on you if you got too into it. You teased him a little more by only showing from your chest down, part of it was to save yourself the embarrassment later on. “It’s so much easier to just show you…” your fingers began moving quickly under your panties again. Satoru chuckled softly, hand still pumping himself in earnest. “Such a tease, Angel. Look at you… not even willing to show me what’s going on.” He was left watching your hand’s movement through the material of your panties. “I’d love to see your pretty tits… I’m sure you’d love to feel me touching them, yeah?” You were supposed to be the one sweet talking to him, but he simply couldn’t resist.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Satoru.” A punch straight to his gut… and to his cock. He groaned, low and guttural. You could only see his face, that was his own way of teasing you. So you moved a little quicker, letting whatever noises felt right fall from your lips. “I wish you were here. I know those hands can do far more than what mine can. I’m sure you’d know just what to do.” You whined, you could feel the familiar tension building in your gut. Yet you still weren’t satisfied. “Oh~ Satoru…” you cooed softly, thighs trembling and arm aching as you tried to keep yourself in position. “I bet you’d feel so good… your cock is undoubtedly large, right?” He breathed out a soft yes, he was far less cocky than you expected him to be.

Perhaps you really had him wrapped around your finger at the moment.

“Satoru… I wish you were here.” Slick noises sounded softly from between your thighs, just slightly audible through the phone. “Look at you… already close?” He was close himself, hand focusing primarily on his sensitive head. He had no intentions of prolonging his release, especially when you looked like that. “Yes…” you were, as embarrassing as it sounded. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it wasn’t going to be as satisfying, that you’d be left aching and needing more. Part of you wished he’d quit acting like he was a normal human and teleport into your room. But this was Gojo Satoru, the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. “Come for me… please I’d love to hear you come.” He was gritting his teeth, balls tensing as his release spurted out of him.

You didn’t realize it though, instead you were too lost in trying to reach your own release. Shaky gasps left him as his hips twitched, his hand couldn’t stop massaging the now painfully tender flesh. “Satoru…” you gasped softly, body twitching as your release was teetering on the edge. “Come on…” he encouraged softly, forcing his hand away from himself to lean forward. His legs would give out on him if he didn’t. He grimaced slightly as his sticky release smeared on the marble counter. You nearly dropped your phone as your hips twitched violently, a loud cry escaping you as you roughly worked yourself through your orgasm. “Fuck fuck…” you didn’t slow down until your ears stopped ringing, thankful you managed to keep your phone steady. “Satoru…”

You let your phone drop to the mattress below, leaving him to stare at your ceiling while you caught your breath. “How about this, Angel.” His voice returned to a steady yet soft whisper. “Hmm?” Your chest was heaving as you tried to calm down. “Tomorrow afternoon, my place. How does that sound?” You were quiet, eyes widening as you realized what that meant. “Just text me a time and a place, I’ll be there.” You felt a new wave of energy coursing through you. It was finally going to happen. “Of course, Angel. Now go get some rest, you won’t be getting much after tomorrow.” He ended the call before you could respond, leaving you alone with your racing heart.

[cosmicjoke]

I'm really excited about this extra story we're getting about Levi, so of course, even though we only have the first four pages of rough draft sketches, I want to talk about them, haha.

The first page shows us a shot of Levi watching his mother, Kuchel, and even from this rough draft, and the translated dialog, assuming it's accurate, we can see Levi viewed his mother in an almost ethereal light, his dialog talking about how the filth and rottenness of the Underground seemed all the more extreme in contrast to his mother's grace. Levi is looking at his mother from behind, and Kuchel seems to be drinking tea and looking out the window. It's almost a whimsical impression. The two panels frame her, from Levi's perspective, as almost angelic it seems. I think we can assume from this that Kuchel stood out among the general inhabitants of the Underground in terms of her comportment and demeanor. We know Kuchel came from the surface, only fleeing to the Underground out of desperation to escape the king's persecution. I'm guessing Kuchel came from a fairly well to do family and life, given the Ackerman's position in relation to the crown before they were perceived to be a threat and hunted down. We kind of get that too from Kenny's interaction with his grandfather, and how he reminded Kenny of how he used to dote on him.

By contrast, then, it throws Levi's childhood, having been born in the Underground, into extreme poverty and deprivation, into literal darkness, into stark relief. It would make sense that Levi would latch on to any crumb of beauty and light and hold that image dear and close to his heart, given the darkness and despair he's otherwise surrounded by, which otherwise defines his existence.

And that image of his mother, this idealized image, becomes only more understandable when we cut to the next panels and pages, and see the harsh reality of Levi's life.

He's getting beat up, and brutally at that. We see a full grown man punching him in the face, before he's kicked back several feet to crash into a wall or furniture or something of the like. This whole image really stands out to me and has affected me deeply, because it's such a stark contrast itself to the image of Levi we've come to know. Of course, when we first meet Levi, even in "No Regrets", he's a full grown man and more than physically capable of taking care of himself. He's, in fact, physically superior to other full grown men, and any physical altercation between him and others is, inevitably, going to end with the other party getting their ass handed to them.

But here, for literally the first time ever, we see the opposite. Levi's getting manhandled and beaten down, he's getting beaten up. We have to remember here, Levi is just a little boy. He can't have been even ten years old when Kenny found him, and given what the men here say about him and his appearance, I doubt he's much, if any older, at this point. The men talk about him being just "bones", which tells me, even with Kenny looking after him, Levi still isn't getting much to eat. I think we can extrapolate from that, that Levi was still largely on his own at this point and having to fend for himself. Kenny wasn't coddling him by any means, which isn't any kind of surprise. Also just the fact that Levi is there, surrounded by these men, on his own, seems to lend itself to that assumption. I don't think Kenny was around too much.

We also learn that Levi went to get back something that his mother was forced to sell to feed them, which again highlights how much she meant to him, how desperate he was at that point to hold on to the memory of her. He says earlier that her grace is the only thing he really remembers clearly from that time. I'm assuming he means the time spent with his mother. The few, short years he had with her. I think this is incredibly heartbreaking, that his memory of his mother, it seems, is hazy at best. That the one, good thing he had in his life is a fleeting memory. He's really just left with an impression of her. The fact we see her from Levi's perspective, from behind, not seeing her face, but framed in this ethereal pose, also seems to suggest as much. It would make sense then that a physical object which belonged to her would mean so much to him, why he would risk his life to try and get it back. I think that also highlights just the desperate circumstances of Levi's life, that something so small would mean so much to him. This need to hold on to the memory of his mother, even if he can only find it through this object. It demonstrates the deprivation of his life.

The other aspect of these four pages that's really devastating of course is what these men say about Levi and how they regard and treat him. I've talked a lot about how Levi grew up in an environment in which life was seen and treated as worthless, and how that makes his own attitude toward life, the way he values and cherishes life, so remarkable. And we really see that disregard for life played out and demonstrated here with how these men treat and talk about Levi.

They talk about him like he isn't even there, like he's an object. Their immediate reaction to his presence and attempt to take back what belonged to his mother is to kill him. They talk about cutting him up into pieces and feeding him to the pigs, and they brutally beat him. We can see on the third page that Levi is curled up in agony, face twisted in pain, his arms wrapped around his midsection from the kick he just took to the gut. Again, we have to remember this is happening to a little boy, to a young child, all for the crime of wanting to retain a piece of his mother whom he had to watch die right in front of him from starvation and illness.

The men then start discussing other uses for Levi, and most horrific of all, they suggest making him do the work his mother did, suggesting he's inherited her "talent", which of course means performing sex work. Again, this is truly beyond the pale, more so when you once more consider Levi's age. This immediately reminded me of what Mikasa went through too, being abducted to be sold into a sex trafficking ring. We have to assume that the men that kidnapped Mikasa meant to take her to the Underground. But Levi is already there. This is the world he was born into. These are the kinds of men that populate that world. People who are willing, without qualms, to brutally beat a young child, kill a young child, sell a young child into the sex trade. I really don't think people give enough thought to the nightmare that was Levi's life, to the hellscape that was his world.

Some people have the nerve to criticize Levi for his violence later in life, but when you're faced with the terrible reality of his childhood here, Levi's violence becomes more than understandable. When you grow up in a world like this, when you grow up surrounded by men like this, men who are willing to do to a child what these men are doing to Levi, and what they're threatening to do to Levi, violence becomes the only option. These are the type of men Levi compared Eren too during the raid on Liberio, when he told Eren he never thought he would turn out like the scum he grew up with in the Underground. Men who would hurt anyone and do anything for self-gain. This is who Levi was referring to.

The last page shows what seems to be the men standing around Levi, discussing what to do with him. In the last panel, we see one of the men leaning in close to Levi, seemingly holding him by his hair and smiling at him in what's obviously a devious and cruel expression, even in these rough sketches. Again, this is the kind of world Levi grew up in, these are the kinds of people he was forced to survive among.

I talk a lot about how Levi is really a miracle of a man, because he held onto his humanity, onto his kindness and goodness, onto his value for life, despite everything in his life growing up, and even into his early adulthood, doing its utmost to rob him of those things. And I think, from the few pages we get here, seeing just a taste of what Levi endured as a child, it drives that point home all the more. Levi really is a miracle of a man, because of how he defied the odds. Because of how he rejected what his life tried to force him to become. He could have so easily turned out like the men who are torturing him here. Men who have no value for any life, not even the life of a child. But Levi instead turned out to be exactly the opposite. To be someone who gave his whole life for the lives of others. That's incredible.

Anyway, that got a lot longer than I intended, as usual, lol. But I just wanted to talk about these few pages a little bit more, and how moving and heartbreaking and devastating they are, but how they also prove all the more why Levi is a man who deserves so truly to be admired. He's a good man, and he became a good man despite growing up surrounded by, and even reared by, bad men. Truly astounding.

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3

Six months earlier:

“JUMP!” Azriel called, his voice echoing over the screaming wind. Gwyn didn’t think, didn’t let herself do a damn thing other than follow his instructions. Leaping in the air and wishing she had wings, Gwyn cleared the gap in the obstacle course he’d laid out for her, Nesta, and Emerie. She wanted to clear it first, too competitive for her own good. What else was new? Azriel had agreed to help her maneuver it privately outside of her regular training, which meant they were often out late, just as the sun began to settle.

Gwyn had other responsibilities, too. Responsibilities to the females in the library, to Merril, to her friends. And maybe it was nice, for once, to be so exhausted she didn’t have to think about anything but life moment to moment. Here, all Gwyn had to think about was her pumping legs, her swinging dagger, and not getting her ass kicked by a five hundred year old Illyrian warrior. 

Gwyn landed hard enough to make her knees scream in protest. 

“GET UP!” Azriel roared, his location hidden to her. Bastard, she thought privately. Cassian had warned Nesta, who in turn had warned Gwyn that Azriel was a hard bastard but she hadn’t believed them. Sure, he was demanding but she expected that. They’d worked privately before with daggers and he’d been reasonable enough.

But out here in the mountains, shielded from the other Illyrian warriors and his friends, Azriel was brutal. Miserable, too, not that she’d admit that. She could have walked away after her first failed attempt with him but part of her thought maybe she deserved this.

He ran her harder than anyone else. Even Cassian looked at her—and the other priestesses—with a mixture of pity and admiration. Sometimes Gwyn resented that. Everyone knew by virtue of where she chose to live, made worse by the fact that it had been the High Lords inner circle who’d found her that day. They all knew the very intimate details Gwyn would have preferred stayed locked away.

But if Azriel ever thought of them, he didn’t show it. And he never looked at her with anything but grim determination…and maybe a little disappointment. That was better than pity, though.

Anything was better than pity. 

So Gwyn got up, just as Azriel demanded, and made her way toward the spelled dummies that would try and wound her. She bore bruises from the last session, though no gashes. She was ready this time, prepared to take on these enchanted warriors that had no wants other than to see her dead.

They could just get in line, she thought grimly. Reaching for the dagger strapped at her thigh, Gwyn ducked, narrowly avoiding a brutal slice along the cheek. It was muscle memory to jab just between the ribs, forcing her wrist up without twisting so hard she broke it.

“Good,” Azriel murmured from the shadows. High praise from him. “Again.”

Gwyn did, disabling the second, and then the third. It was the fourth that always stopped her. When Cassian had told them of the obstacle course, grinning proudly at his own ingenuity, he told them Rhys had spelled the phantom warriors to seem life-like. And though she knew the High Lord couldn’t possibly know and would have rearranged his enchantment if she’d ever told him so, that last warrior had the same eyes as the Hybernian soldier. The same shade of dark, depthless blue that Gwyn still saw when she closed her eyes. This was where she always failed and where she was going to fail again.

“KILL HIM!” Azriel yelled, clearly frustrated when she slowed. Gwyn couldn’t, though. She hesitated, lowering her weapon and like always, received a punishing blow to the gut.

This is what I deserve, she thought as that sword raised over her. Gwyn closed her eyes, prepared for the death blow that she knew wasn’t coming. Heavy boots landed just in front of her, and with a wave of his gloved hand, the enchanted warrior fell to the ground like a lifeless puppet.

Azriel turned, hazel eyes sharp. “What happened?” he demanded. 

Wiping the sweat at her forehead, Gwyn ignored him when he tried to help her to her feet. “I’m not cut out for this,” she said defensively. 

Azriel’s wings tightened against his back, blue siphons flashing a warning. He was irritated with her.

“You were making record time and then you stopped. Why?”

“Take me back,” she replied, refusing to look at him.

“Why, Gwyn?”

Resentment bloomed in her gut. Because I should have died that day—not Catrin. Because I’m here but I feel stuck, because my life was stolen and— “Take me back.” He sighed loudly, though whatever he wanted to say remained leashed behind his teeth. Shadow enveloped them both—cool and reassuring, like lapping waves rising to meet the shore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut tight, grateful when she heard Azriel’s boots clipping over the roof.

“Get your shit together, Berdara,” Azriel grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, talk to someone else or you’re never going to finish.”

“I’m a Carynthian, aren’t I?” she dared to say, safe beneath a dusky violet sky. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He turned, those eyes flashing like burning coals. “Luck—not skill,” he replied, his voice colder than the mountains they’d just come from. “Luck won’t always save you.”

Gwyn’s nostrils flared. She knew he was right, knew she, Nesta, and Emerie had survived because they’d had each other. Just as she knew there would come a time when they didn’t. And Gwyn knew all too well what it was like to be alone.

To be defenseless. 

Azriel swallowed, throat bobbing ever so slightly. There—right there, she saw it. His hesitation, his concern. Something pulled in her chest, some muscle she was unfamiliar with. “Don’t,” she snapped, furious that of all the people she knew, he would dare. “You know it's hard.”

“Not for you,” he replied flatly. “You could get to the ropes if you wanted to.”

The pity was gone in his eyes, though the feeling in her chest was not. Gwyn wanted to rub at her chest to ease whatever was building though she kept her hands tightly coiled at her side. “I’ll get it.”

Azriel cocked his head for a moment, wind blowing against the blue black of his hair. “We’ll see.”

He turned, leaving her standing on the roof alone in favor of unfurling his mighty wings and taking off toward the Sidra. Gwyn didn’t watch him go, though she did wait to scream softly from behind her teeth, a wordless sound that didn’t help anything at all.

Gwyn didn’t know how to forget those eyes, and if she couldn’t forget, what did that mean for her? What did that say about the centuries of life stretched before her? Why couldn’t she kill him? Gwyn had thought of nothing else for so long, and now, confronted with the memory in a visceral way, Gwyn merely stood there waiting to die.

Just like before.

She turned for the door, intending to make her way to the library where she’d read until she was too exhausted to think. Her bones screamed in protest, aching from training that afternoon and obstacle course Azriel had spent the last hour running her through. Up the hilly mountainside, coatless in the cold, as she navigated a treacherous plank walk, moving targets, and steep drops that could kill her if she wasn’t careful. 

And then lines and lines of warriors. Gwyn had never managed to get past the first line. Carythian meant nothing if she couldn’t fight. Azriel was right about that. Luck had saved her twice, but it wouldn’t save her again. She knew that like she knew herself.

Yanking open the door, Gwyn took a step, still uneasy from the building pressure in her chest. She took a breath, inhaling  that feeling until it settled into something soft. She swallowed it whole, refusing to acknowledge it entirely.

She had other things to think about.

Present day:

“Berdara!” Cassian’s voice echoed over the rooftop, pulling Gwyn from her thoughts. She’d been half asleep in the middle of a cooldown. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

No. “Yes,” she lied, hating the way her cheeks burned from embarrassment. Beside her, Nesta glanced over curiously while Emerie mouthed, you okay? 

“C’mon,” Cassian said, hands crossed over his chest. “Finish your leg.”

Yeah, yeah. Gwyn leaned forward, pressing her cheek to her knee to stretch out her aching, sore muscles. She’d been withdrawn lately and everyone had noticed. Across the training ring, she felt Azriel’s curious gaze puncturing her leathers though she didn’t look at him at all. Gone were the days when he gave her private lessons.

She’d walled herself off to him—to everyone, really. Even then, as Cassian dismissed them, Gwyn was quick to her feet in an effort to avoid Nesta and Emerie. That was easy enough when Cassian immediately intercepted his mate with a lopsided grin on his face. She could slip toward the door, quick as a shadow, and began the trek to the library. 

“Gwyn!”

That was Emerie, though Gwyn could pretend she didn’t hear it when the door slammed shut. Again. This was easier, she lied, though in truth it took an immense amount of effort to smile at her friends only to dodge them later on.

Why keep going at all? Why not bow out and return to Merril full time? The priestess certainly would have appreciated Gwyn undivided attention and Gwyn could have slowly faded from her friend’s minds.

It was too painful to imagine not having Nesta and Emerie, and worse to admit that despite everything, she was still locked in the past. Trapped in a hell not of her own making, sealed in tight all the same. Nesta and Emerie were doing better, but Gwyn felt worse somehow in ways she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.

It was easier to just avoid it entirely, which meant avoiding her friends, too. 

Gwyn made it back to the library in record time, ignoring the same curious looks she always got when she came in wearing the Illyrian leathers the High Lady had gifted her. An entire set, along with knives far nicer than anything Gwyn could have ever imagined.

For saving my sister, she’d written in looping, elegant script. Gwyn had them locked in a chest at the end of her bed, too pretty and priceless to use. Azriel had given her some cast-off, dinged up and battered that Gwyn still favored.

Like me, she thought as she closed herself behind the round, wooden door of her bedchamber. She took just one breath, back pressed to the wall, and then began pulling at the clasps of her clothes. For now, she left them in a heap on the obsidian floor, marching herself toward a standing mirror so she could survey the damage.

She wasn’t eating well again, evidenced by the lines from her ribcage visible just beneath her skin. Bruises dotted her flesh—some fading green while others were a fresh, vibrant violet. She took pleasure at the sight of them against her shoulder blades and spine. 

Another breath took her to the blue robes she wore in the library. They fit, hanging just looser than she would have liked, but well enough. Gwyn ignored the evoking stone crumpled on her vanity, taunting her on a beam of buttery sunlight. 

She made her way back to the door, thinking only of Merril and her research.

“Em,” she said when she pulled open the door to reveal the Illyrian female on the other side. “Hi.”

“You’re avoiding me. Us,” she added, though Nesta was nowhere to be seen. That was the only positive. If Nesta realized Gwyn was dodging them, she’d follow Gwyn around with that stubborn, single-minded determination of hers. 

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” Emerie replied, tucking her wings in tight. Not like Cassian and Azriel did in an effort to make themselves seem smaller and less threatening, but to help her fit through the rather low door without banging her already broken wings against the frame. 

Gwyn stepped back, dress swishing around her legs as she went. 

“What’s going on?” Emerie asked, the door clicking softly behind her. “You don’t come out to the mountains anymore. Nesta cleared it yesterday.”

Of course she did. Once, they’d wanted to revive the Valkyrie. Gwyn was supposed to be researching the ancient legion lost to Hybern but found the whole thing too personal, too close to home. 

“Merril is running me ragged,” she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Emerie took a seat on the edge of Gwyn’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m too distracted to focus.”

And Azriel doesn’t like you anymore. 

She shook that thought off, well aware it wasn’t true. And even if it was, Cassian still did. He would have taken her to the obstacle course if she’d asked him to, even without Nesta or Emerie. He’d have done so gladly, would have walked her through the entire thing.

“Come with me,” Emerie pleaded, leaning forward to grab Gwyn’s hand. “Please, Gwyn. None of this means anything if you go back to the library.”

“Of course it does,” she replied blithely, slapping what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face. 

There was no lying to Emerie, though. She was too shrewd, too used to people looking her in the eye and telling her half-truths. Narrowing her pretty brown eyes, Emerie said, “I’ll send Nesta down.”

And Nesta would pick and pick and pick until Gwyn was nothing but open wounds and bleeding scars. Nesta knew how to get to the heart of someone with only a look, and needed no magic to see straight into Gwyn’s soul. She’d know…and Gwyn couldn’t stand to see any more pity.

“Okay,” she said, unable to hide how tired she was. “Is Cassian taking you?”

“Morrigan,” Emerie said, a curious blush staining her cheeks. “The High Lord has called Azriel and Cassian Velaris tonight and before you ask, no I don’t know why. Nesta didn’t either…you’d know that if you weren’t dodging us.”

“I—”

The look on Emerie’s face stilled the bubbling lie. 

“Tonight, just before sunset,” Emerie said, rising from her place on Gwyn’s bed. “And…I know you don’t want to hear this, but you could tell us, you know. 

Shame rose in Gwyn’s throat, a familiar sensation as of late. Disappointing her friends was new, though. Pushing them away would be a different sort of hell—a miserable hole she’d never dig herself out of. 

“There is nothing to tell,” Gwyn whispered, unable to meet Emerie’s gaze. She heard her friend sigh, heard the whispering of her wings as she walked back to the door.

“I used to say the same thing, once.”

She was gone when Gwyn looked up, the door wide open. In the hall, all Gwyn saw were shadows blotting out the sunlight from the peaked windows at the very end. As she left, Gwyn was careful to avoid them entirely, fingers skimming the wood walls as she went. 

Pieced together, step by step, Gwyn didn’t dare allow herself to turn and look behind her. Even when she felt those every present, curious eyes on her. 

Keep moving. 

AZRIEL:

Drumming his fingers against the wood, Azriel forced himself not to stand though he very much wanted to. All eyes on him, even when he would have preferred to be little more than shadow. That wasn’t possible with his brothers, both of whom were discussing the return of Morrigan. She was with Nesta up at the House of Wind, taking her and Emerie to the obstacle course rather than Cassian.

Azriel wanted to be anywhere but here. Rhys droned on, talking of this problem and that, all cloaking what he truly wished to say.

Are you well, brother? 

Cassian, too, kept cutting sly glances his way. Azriel didn’t want to think about Morrigan, let alone speak about her. It was too complicated and Azriel didn’t do complicated. Too messy, too much still unsaid. Having her away had almost been a relief. Azriel could pretend, as he too often did, that there was nothing there at all.

Because there wasn’t. Mor had been making that abundantly clear for years. Centuries, even. And still Azriel couldn’t resist the pull toward her, certain it must be an unsnapped mating bond. He’d told himself a million times that she felt it too and it scared her enough to stay away, but somewhere around the time Feyre arrived, and then Nesta, and finally Elain, Azriel had begun to suspect it wasn’t a bond at all.

And if it wasn’t a bond, it meant there had never been anything between them at all. Only his own hopes, all pinned on one female who didn’t want him. 

“Az?” 

Rhys’s voice cut through his thoughts. Azriel glanced up at his brother, his friend, heart thudding in his throat, silently waiting for Rhys to repeat what he’d said.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” he lied. Rhys clocked him immediately, violet eyes pulling at the corners. Cassian rose from his seat in the study, striding toward the fireplace mantle just behind Azriel. Only his brothers could move around him like that, though it still made Azriel jumpy. 

“So you’ll go, then?”

“Of course,” he replied evenly. That was his job—spying, gathering information, torturing when he needed to, stealing when he didn’t. 

“If Mor can’t charm them, we’ll let Azriel do things his way,” Rhys said with a sharp toothed grin. “Though, I would like to have someone at court, if I could. Nesta, perhaps—”

“Not Nes,” Cassian interjected, his voice tight. “She’s training new priestesses.”

And Cassian couldn’t stand the thought of his new mate running off to Montessere with Azriel for the Cauldron knew how long. A pang of longing slammed against his ribs, burning colder than any hatred he’d ever felt. Azriel wanted what Cassian and Rhys had and was beginning to suspect he didn’t because he was wholly unworthy. The mother had looked around, taken stock of him, and decided he was the kind of creature that deserved to be alone. 

“What about Elain?” Cassian continued, unaware of how stiff both Rhys and Azriel got. Azriel’s eyes flicked toward Rhys, hands braced against his neatly organized desk. Behind him, Feyre watched them all with imperious blue eyes, warning them not to give Rhys too much grief. 

“No,” Azriel said, careful to keep his voice measured. Better to not let Cassian realize that was still a sore spot between he and Rhys. “She’s too…”

Rhys watched him, drumming his fingers along the desk just as Azriel had been doing only moments before. Azriel sighed. “She’s a distraction.”

That wasn’t a lie, at least. Elain wasn’t the spying type and was likely to shrink away when she realized what it would take to extract the information Rhys wanted. There was wisdom in installing someone at court, though—it gave him access to the palace itself, allowed him to move through the halls freely without skulking when everyone was asleep, and would legitimize him. Otherwise he’d be in trees and up in the clouds, constantly slipping about, hiding and stuffing himself into too-small nooks and crannies. 

“Gwyn, then,” Cassian interrupted, his voice assured. Azriel twisted on the cream sofa, brows furrowed. Gwyn was all but checked out at training and last he’d heard, refusing to go back to the obstacle course. He gave her another month before she returned to the library full time, abandoning her quest to embody her Carynthian title. 

She certainly had stopped seeking him out for help, and Azriel knew better than to offer it. Whatever was going on with her was none of his business which she’d made abundantly clear the last time they’d spoken. 

“The priestess?” Rhys questioned, straightening his spine. 

“She’s stealthy,” Cassian began, eyes bright. “A good fighter and unassuming. Sending Az to protect a priestess wouldn’t be unusual, either.”

“Mor was just there,” Rhys reminded them, though it was clear he was considering this absurd plan. “They’ll know we’ve changed tactics.”

“Mor was there as emissary. They said they wanted an exchange of knowledge. Who better to send than a priestess working in the High Lord’s library? She can say it’s a show of good faith, and since she’s not trained as a courtier, she’ll come off earnest rather than practiced like Nesta or Elain would.”

Rhys looked to Azriel, who shook his head. “She’s too unpracticed and I don’t have time to babysit her.”

Cassian scoffed, walking away from the crackling fire toward the set of chairs on the opposite end of the coffee table. “Then call Lucien.”

Azriel’s lip curled over his teeth. Looking up at Rhys, he waited for the High Lord to tell Cassian that was an awful plan. Lucien was their emissary to the humans and if anyone was a court trained bastard, it was Vanserra. 

“Not everything needs to be a suicide mission, Az,” Rhys began, sensing Azriel’s rising temper. “And I want someone at court. So you can take the priestess or I suppose we could call Vanserra and send him with you.”

“Are those my only options?” Azriel demanded, flaring his nostrils as he attempted to leash his anger. 

Rhys ran his tongue over his teeth. “For now.”

Fuck. 

“Gwyn, then,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. She was tolerable, at least. Better than tolerable when she wanted to be and more importantly, unrelated to a Vanserra. “If you don’t trust me to do this on my own.”

“Of course I do,” Rhys replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. “The situation is delicate—if we’re caught, they’ll turn their backs to us completely. I want to know everything. If Beron has made them promises, if they’re thinking of aligning with Koschei…if they even know of Koschei.”

“It’ll be good for her,” Cassian added softly, letting his concern show over his features. “All Nesta talks about is how withdrawn Gwyn has become.”

“Assuming she even agrees,” Azriel replied indifferently. Rhys’s plan hinged on one of his traumatized priestesses agreeing to fly across the continent with a male she just barely trusted. Gwyn would say no, Azriel would return to Rhys and—

“If she doesn’t agree, Vanserra will go,” Rhys interrupted, reading Azriel’s thoughts plainly. “And the two of you will have to work together.”

“We’ll kill each other,” Azriel replied, rising to his feet. “If I don’t kill him first.”

“Why do you hate him?” Cassian asked.

Azriel didn’t dare reveal the real reason. Didn’t dare admit he hated Lucien not because he was part of Beron’s brood, or for what he’d allowed to happen to Feyre or even how he’d supported Tamlin all those years—but because a Vanserra was somehow worthier than Azriel. Lucien had a mate.

Lucien. 

And if Vanserra’s could be granted mates but not Azriel, it meant everything his father had ever said about him was true. Everything Rhys’s father had believed about him—true.

And every private insecurity he held was true, too. 

Rhys knew it. Without peering into his mind, Rhys somehow still knew. And Azriel resented his friend for knowing this thing, even if Rhys had never once used it against him, or even mentioned it at all. 

“What reason do I need to hate a Vanserra?” Azriel replied, turning his back on them both. Cassian sucked in a breath while Rhys chuckled—the sentiment was well-echoed. Lucien was allowed because Feyre loved him and Elain hadn’t broken their bond. He was useful, a tool and little else and Azriel was looking forward to the day Elain did break the bond, if only to see him suffer as Azriel did. 

“You’ll have this conversation with Gwyn?” he asked, halting at the door. It would be better coming from Rhys or Cassian than Azriel, who didn’t know how to approach her without making it seem like he was trying to kidnap her. 

“I will,” Rhys murmured, his eyes flickering with what looked like pity. Gwyn would hate that. Azriel hated it on her behalf, too. He nearly told his friend to wipe that look off his face, to keep the guilt from sounding in his voice. Rhys would figure it out, though, and Azriel truly didn’t have the capacity for that conversation.

Not when Elain Archeron breezed down the hall in a loose, lilac dress. Scenting of lavender and honey and something that made his insides slick with shame—the mating bond, the same he could scent whenever Nesta or Feyre were around.

Not that it mattered. Elain refused to acknowledge him at all, pathetically petty even if it was deserved. He disliked her cold shoulder, how she kept her eyes firmly ahead, arms filled with pretty pink hydrangeas she’d arrange for Feyre’s dining table. 

He stood there, ignoring Cassian and Rhys’s chatter behind him, waiting for her to pass. Even though she refused to look, he still inclined his head as a show of respect. Whatever might have happened between them had always been doomed from the start. Azriel had known it and hadn’t cared—he knew he was just as much a distraction to her and she was to him. 

Pink bloomed over her cheeks, though whether that was embarrassment or shame, Azriel didn’t know. Didn’t care to figure out, either. He waited until she vanished around a corner, a door slamming just a little too loudly, before he made his way behind her. 

Azriel slipped into the darkness, careful not to make a sound. He could still hear Cassian and Rhys talking softly, their voices a low hum in the back of his skull. In front of him, the city was a symphony of sound, illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead and floating fae lights. Velaris was alive, waking with the setting sun but Azriel was still a phantom, hidden in the dark.

Just as he’d always been.

Flaring his wings, he made his way toward the House of Wind where he’d try–and fail—to sleep. Maybe he’d run the obstacle course himself, venting his frustrations until he was too exhausted to stand. Azriel landed on the roof just as the thought occurred to him that he might drink himself into oblivion. It wasn’t his favorite, though it got the job done.

Maybe vent his frustrations into a willing, warm body. He twisted, looking back at the dotted lights of Velaris when— “Az?” Fuck fuck fuck.

Azriel turned, heart racing at the sight of Morrigan. He hadn’t spotted her—had been too distracted. He could scent sweat, and the smells of Nesta and Gwyn still lingering in the air. Mor must have just brought them back. 

He dipped his chin, unsure what to say. That had sent Elain scurrying away—perhaps Mor would leave, too. She certainly seemed like she wanted to, brown eyes apprehensive as she watched him. She wore a nice pair of dark pants, her white shirt tucked in neatly, and though there was a blade strapped against her back and her blonde hair was half falling from a braid, she was still stunning. 

And not his. Never his. 

“Do you live up here now?” she asked when the silence stretched thinly between them.

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“Silence finally got to you, huh?” she teased, offering him a half smile. Azriel couldn’t return it because that would make him too hopeful. He shrugged, turning back to Velaris though he knew now he couldn’t leave. Not until she did, at any rate. And then…and then. 

She took a cautious step toward him. “Az, I—”

“You don’t—” he swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as he worked to compose himself. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She came closer, still. “Will you take me back?” she asked him and Azriel, stupid and foolish, couldn’t tell her no. Mor came within touching distance for the first time in years, the sweet, soft scent of her washing over him. 

He kept himself rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing himself to wrap one arm around her waist before he kicked off into the sky. There was nothing but cool air here, and the warmth of Mor’s body pressed against his own.

“We were friends, once,” she murmured as Azriel soared overhead, taking a roundabout way so she could say whatever it was she so clearly needed to say. “What happened to us?”

I’m in love with you and I can’t let it go. You don’t love me and you never will.  

He didn’t respond, choosing to just hold her for what he knew would be the last time. When he set her back to the ground, it would all be over and Azriel would have to move on somehow. To continue would be a betrayal of their family, would destroy them all. In a way, Azriel was suddenly grateful for some space to untangle his messy emotions.

“Is there someone else?” he finally forced himself to say. To just admit that he wanted her, even if it went against every instinct in his body. 

“Yes,” she replied, fingers brushing beneath his chin so he had to look at her. “And if I ever could have loved a male, it would have been you.”

Azriel blinked. “What…?” She’d had male lovers before—many, by his recollection. Helion, Cassian, several Summer courtiers, that male from Dawn…

Mor swallowed. “You know how my father is,” she forced herself to say, eyes jewel bright. “I think, even now, I’m scared to disappoint him. To admit what I really want. Who I want. And even though Rhys would shield me, that fear is potent and pretending is easier, even if it costs me you. I want you to be happy, Az. And I could never make you happy, just like you couldn’t make me happy. You like females…and so do I.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the air leaving him in a rush. Five centuries of questions were suddenly answered. Mor’s lips ghosted over his jaw, feather soft and sweet, just like he’d always imagined. It didn’t lessen the pain, nor did it erase the love he felt for her. But it did explain her avoidance, her caution, her unwillingness to get close. 

“You ah…” Fuck, he didn’t know what to say. “You never needed to hide that from me. From us,” he added hastily. 

Mor turned to look out at the city they were fast approaching. “We all have our secrets. Right, Az?”

He began to descend, the muscles in his back flexing from the effort to keep himself slow. He wanted to drag this moment out, to stretch the intimacy between them for another moment. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised her, boots touching the cobblestone streets before her own did. Mor slipped from his grip, shaking out her hands nervously until he reached for her face. She didn’t shy away this time, nor did she flinch as she’d done so often in the past. There was a new understanding between them, a different sort of thread. It wasn’t, he supposed, that he was unworthy of her.

Just that she couldn’t love him the way he’d loved her. The thought eased the ache in chest, though only marginally. She’d never be his mate. He could move on if he wanted. Find someone else.

If he wanted.

Brushing his thumb over her cheek, Azriel lowered his face like he’d so often dreamed of, and gave her the same soft kiss against her cheek. “You deserve to be happy,” he whispered so softly only she could hear. “I want that for you.”

Her eyes seemed to burn like the stars above them. Lovely, lively Mor. His Mor, though not how he’d imagined. But his friend, all the same—and the only person she’d entrusted with this secret. 

“Thank you, Az. You deserve that, too. I know you’re going to find it.”

He forced a strained smile, dipping his head in agreement. She stepped out of his embrace, turning for the city.

“Join me at Rita’s?” she asked hopefully.

Azriel didn’t look behind him. He still had one night of freedom. He could still drink himself into oblivion.

“Let’s go.”

[cocogrrrl]

Hiya again! I was wondering if you could write a fic of a gn!s/o and Kenny (teenagers) at a public park, and then some people start insulting and possibly physically hurting the reader, then they look over, kennys gone, and mysterion is kicking the people's asses. I thought it was a cute concept :)

-📌🎀

help arrived

while on a morning walk with kenny, you accidentally find yourself alone and in imminent trouble. luckily for you, mysterion comes to save the day.

mysterion!kenny mccormick x gn!reader cws: descriptions of violence, slight predatory language used wc: 1191

“You think you can help me out this weekend? I really need help picking out a gift for Karen. I have a bunch of different options, but none that I think she’ll like.” Your boyfriend, Kenny, sighed.

Your hand was intertwined with his, and you squeezed his twice to comfort him. “Hmm, I’m not sure I exactly know what she’d like, but I’ll try.” You hummed.

“Thanks,” he smiled, giving you a swift kiss on the head as you two continued your regular stroll in the park—idly minding the sounds of children playing, leaves rattlings, and footsteps on the dirt path.

There were a group of people roughly around your age who you were trying to pass through. They were spread everywhere across the field. You weren’t quite sure what they were there for, but you didn’t pay mind to it. It wasn’t your business anyway.

What was your business was getting through the crowd of people, which proved difficult. Your hand tightly clasped Kenny’s so that you wouldn’t lose him out of your grasp and sight. You felt yourself bump against someone. Your arm’s side hit the person a lot stronger than you initially realized. Despite it, though, you quickly mumbled out a quick sorry before you continued.

“What was that for?” The gravelly and angered voice yelled out. You turn to see who it was—the person you crashed into just now. 

“It was an accident—I’m sorry-” You stammered out quickly, nervousness rising inside of you. The person honestly towered over your height, and it didn’t help that they seemed rather strong.

“Sorry? I’m sure you meant it! No person would just push someone like that by accident.” The guy argued, taking footsteps closer to you as a crowd slowly started to build around you. “I’m sure you wanted to hurt me.”

“I didn’t! I was just trying to make my way across here with my boyfriend and—”

“What boyfriend?” The person, and even the crowd watching you, started to laugh uproariously. You were confused, but as soon as you turned to see where Kenny was, he was gone.

You were sent in a panic now. A bunch of people seemed to be thinking you were delusional when really it wasn’t the case. So many eyes on you, and you couldn’t help yourself here—not unless you wanted things to worsen by a probable tenfold.

“You’re so funny. Let’s have more fun,” The guy laughed, grabbing you by the color as you suddenly felt your legs lift from the air.

Agh, why did you even decide to pass by this place? Sure, you didn’t know that there were people just waiting to pick on someone, but you could’ve just taken a better route. Where was Kenny as well? Maybe he went ahead and hadn’t realized that you were missing yet. I mean, you wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t realize you lost Kenny’s hand, even if you clung onto it for dear life earlier.

Why are you, of all people, chosen to be picked on today? What events, circumstances, and god would let you be in this situation? Whatever the case was before all this, you knew only one thing now: you were about to be fucking grilled by these people, weren’t you? The grip on your collar only got tighter, even digging into your skin.

You couldn’t fight back, no way. You could only accept your fate in a situation like this. You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself to meet with the guy’s fist or something.

It never came though.

Instead, you felt your body drop to the grassy floor as you opened your eyes to see the man being pulled onto the ground, losing his grip on your completely.

As soon as your body hit the floor, you quickly shuffled back onto your feet as fast as you could. Your legs hurt because of the sudden impact, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. What you saw was a lot more surprising, though.

Your boyfriend Kenny, er, the town-respected vigilante Mysterion, was on top of the person who picked on you earlier, beating him into the ground. He didn’t control the fight, though, seeing how the guy was fighting back triumphantly, blowing punches underneath him.

You stood there, taking a few steps back from the scene. The crowd around you now had eyes on Mysterion, all attention away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how stupid you look in your costume?” The person choked out, kicking him from under and sending Mysterion grabbing his side as they now flipped him—taking the upper hand now. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

Kenny knew better than to reply, though. He stayed quiet as much as possible, despite how much the person tried provoking him to say some nasty things about them as well. He elbowed the person’s chin, sending them flying for a split second before they hit the ground.

Expectedly to you, though, Mysterion got the final punch, delivering a blow to the cheek. Steadying himself back on his feet, he let a huff out as he wiped off some blood spilling out of his mouth. “I’m sure it was an accident. I know a person as wonderful as YN would never dare hurt anyone.”

Right after that, he lit up a set of fireworks and threw it on the ground, swiftly sweeping you off your feet and carrying you away, bridal style, to an empty space. He laid you back onto the ground in the quiet area, looking at you worriedly as if you were the one who was hurt right now—not him.

“Are you okay?” He sighed, pulling down his cloak and mask.

“I should be asking you that,” You laughed, getting on your knees to meet eye-to-eye with him. “You look like hell.”

“Only for you.” Kenny smiled.

“Thanks, Ken.” You said, burying your face in the crook of your neck. The adrenaline of the situation started to wear off, and soon enough, you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. ”I’m sorry I got lost back there.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, pulling your head back up to look at him. “It’s not your fault, yeah? What matters most right now is that we’re both alright.”

“Well, you aren’t!” You cried out, pointing to the bruises all over his face. “You just got beaten up.”

“YN, if you were the one to get jumped earlier, I’m sure you’d look a hundred times worse than I do right now. I would never forgive myself if that happened.” He pouted, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Just… I’m alright, and I’m sure these wounds will go away in no time.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You exchanged a grin with him, bringing a hand to caress the one holding you right now. “Okay. Thank you, pretty.” You mumbled against his cheek before giving him a brief peck there.

His face flushed at the action, though you couldn’t see it since you had buried your face in the crook of his neck once more after. “Always, honey.” 

[elmundodeflor]

In the span of 10 years, Hanji writes Levi one letter for each birthday they spend together.

"12 Things I Never Told You" pays homage to his and Hanji's bond through space and time, and depicts the loving light in which they saw him.

You can read the full fic and 12 letters here, on AO3.

In the meantime, here's one of the letters for you to check out;

Levi,

When I gave you the tea-can earlier, the look on your face could have only meant two things:

1) "This must have been expensive as hell."

2) "You're batshit crazy for spending on it."

I told you, though! I wasn't gonna throw you a birthday party, but you had to expect a gift from me, at least. I like going all out!

Anyways, it was a nice surprise that you came down the lab with two mugs instead of one. And that you talked about your mother.

You told me that you had this same tea-can at home, in the Underground. And that your mom had gotten it for trade from one of her clients that lived up here. Your entire face softened when you mentioned her— how graceful she was. It was like seeing sugar melting on the stove.

Of course, I didn't ask— if she's alive, or what happened to her. I didn't mean to be intrusive. But the way you spoke in past-tense... oh, I'm sorry, Levi. I'm so, so sorry. Really. If she was anything quite like you, then I'm sure she was a wonderful woman.

To be honest, I don't know either— whether my mom's alive or not. You see, I never talk about this for a reason. I ran away from home when I was fourteen. My parents were... well, let's just say... not good people. I was mischievous, and rebellious, and asked too many questions. They most definitely did not like that.

My grandpa was the closest thing I ever had to a father, or a friend. He did die, though. He was mischievous, and rebellious, and asked as many questions as I did. I guess, back then, it not only made my parents uncomfortable, but the Military Police as well...

It was the reason I joined the Survey Corps, you know? You may not believe this, but I was once full of rage, too. I'm just lucky I could turn it into something better— passion, purpose. I'm certainly not proud of how it used to be. You should have seen me, all those years ago; shouting down the hallways, kicking titans' heads... I just hope you never get to see it again. If you do, I'm scared you might never look at me the same, and that I never forgive myself for it.

I have no clue how you do it, though— carry yourself through life. Back then, if they'd given me the names of the fuckers who took my grandpa, I'd have killed them on the spot. You, on the other hand, (and I know you'll get mad at me for saying this) are gentle. If you wanted to, you could break necks with a single blow. Or seek revenge towards the world for what it's done to you. But you choose not to. You actively, every day, choose not to.

Yeah, yeah, you probably don't like me reminding you of all this. But you're kind, Levi. You stay in the lab with me while I’m working, and you trust me enough to tell me about your mother. And you share this expensive-ass-tea I bought for you.

You're a good person. Much better than I'll ever be. I know you don’t think that you are, and that you worry others may also think that you’re not. But it’s true— you’re a good man.

See? It doesn't even matter I spent half my budget on this! (You’ve been warned, you won’t ever hear a word about it). You deserve to have nice things, little one. Also, it was pretty neat to hear that tiny hum of satisfaction you made when you drank from your cup. I know not many things surprise you nowadays, either. So, I'll take my pride in knowing I did— HA!

Hope you had a good night. And that you had a great birthday— yeah, that too!

Happy you're with me for another year.

See you around,

Hanji x

P.S: Thank you for the tea. Literally the best one I had!

[moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom]

time for Thoughts™️

I will always rant about every member of the disaster lineage but I just got very very especially sad about Dooku and Qui-Gon. 

how did I not realise how late he left the Order??? I always thought it was idk, some time earlier than the Phantom Menace but this is just. they really went for the peak angst potential didn’t they

we now know what happened to Yaddle, but at what cost…

As always, fuck Sheev. look what he did. he took a bunch of perfectly good light-siders and fucked them up is what he did.

SNIPS AND SKYGUY ARE BACK Y’ALL IM SOBBING I MISSED THEM SO MUCH

I feel like Anakin really does Not know how to Handle Child at the time of that first training montage. he does his best to be a good teacher and train her the best he can but I definitely got scary chills watching him say “again” so many times in a progressively darker tone

I’m fine I’m just crying over how all that training, no matter Anakin’s downfalls, saved Ahsoka’s life in the end

Rex!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my first reaction to Rex mentioning Jesse was basically just “oh hey it’s my dude!!!” and then I realised that Anakin and Jesse both trained Ahsoka in ways that she then used to survive their attempts of trying to kill her and now I’m not okay

that handful of Obi-Wan scenes was a nice bonus

Caleb getting all excited about Ahsoka doing the droid training exercise he’s so precious-

The funeral.

no because the fact that Ahsoka would have been chased down and possibly killed by the Empire if they found out she was still alive but she went to Padmé’s funeral anyway to pay her respects because Padmé was so important to her-

“She was my friend” feelings. so many feelings. i cried here.

Rex sticking with Ahsoka until after the funeral makes me have a lot of emotions and a lot of thoughts; iirc we don’t actually know how long they were together after the Tribunal crash before they split ways

SO LUCASFILM IF YOU COULD JUST NOT TEAR MY HEART OUT FOR ONE KRIFFING SECOND THAT WOULD BE GREAT

*insert that one textpost that was like [me every second Bail Organa was on screen] ‘that’s Bail Organa’*

anyone else feel a little iffy about the whole “we have a duty thing” he was saying to Ahsoka? maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention, but it felt a little to me like he meant she had to/was obligated to join the Rebellion. it doesn’t seem very in sync with Bail in general, but if someone has a different interpretation that makes more sense, please share with me.

the only other thing is I’m just confused and a little irritated about the section with the farmers and the Inquisitor. like, when in the timeline exactly did that whole encounter take place? and if they wanted to show a storyline like that, why didn’t they just animate some key moments from the Ahsoka novel? I feel like it sort of gives it more weight in a way to have Ahsoka’s big return to the good fight and the Rebellion set two years after the end of the war, and given how similar the setups are, I have to say I would have much rather had at least some scenes from the book in animation than a whole new separate thing that kind of replaces it.

me when the girl’s brother went to tattle to the Empire: every town’s got a Timm 😔

ngl I really thought she might be Kaeden at first but it wasn’t too bad I suppose.

especially since I will never, and I mean never, get sick of watching Ahsoka kick Inquisitor ass

all I want to do is wrap all my faves up in a blanket and hug them very tight yk

in conclusion: I am just screaming. so hard right now.

[astridthevalkyrie]

A Scene Popped Into My Head But Instead Of Writing A Whole AU I’m Just Going To Write That One Scene <3

—> Scene Capture Fics Masterlist

—> Today’s Feature: Ice Hockey Coach Levi!

—> a/n: a scene capture fic????? in 2023????????? yes, i'm actually alive :) tbh by reading this you can tell how rusty i am because this is trash

Levi doesn't think he's ever had this big of a headache. And there's been some real contenders over the course of his life. One would think all the death or that one bit where he was sleeping on the streets would take the cake. But no, it's this idiot—this mousy, annoying fucking idiot who really makes migraines a constant in his life.

For the sixth time in an hour, Levi blows his whistle.

"Jock! Get the fuck out of the rink!"

The player in question slams down the stick he's holding in his left hand, shoving the teammate he just elbowed out of the way before skating towards him. That migraine seems to pulse in anger the same way the player's veins do.

"You can't bench me again," he seethes, fists clenched and eyes flaming behind his helmet. "I'm your best player."

"You're also the biggest pain in the ass." Levi grabs the front of his shirt. "Any points you score won't mean shit if you get double the penalties."

Never has he met a player so skilled, and yet so troublesome. When Levi agreed to coach the team as a favor to Erwin, who owned them and was taking loss after loss, he hadn't expected this hothead. From the first moment the man introduced himself, wide-eyed, spitting out the word, "Cock!" when Levi demanded his name, he'd been nothing but a dick indeed.

"What was that?" he'd hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Jock! I meant Jock!"

"Tch. And you clearly find that fitting, do you?"

"Oh yes, sir, I'm the best player you'll meet."

And to Jock's credit, he hadn't been wrong. He was the best player Levi had seen since, well, probably Erwin and himself. The word miss wasn't even in the man's dictionary, and he skated on the ice like he'd been born to do so. The problem was that Levi was the coach of a team, and Jock was anything but a team player.

From the beginning, he was aggressive. Constantly shoving teammates both smaller and bigger than him around, constantly shouting, constantly throwing tempter tantrums. Levi knew a thing or two about a short fuse, but this guy made him look like a fucking saint.

"Far as I see it, Coach, you're the only one who penalizes me." That gaze hadn't stopped glaring once. "Whatchu gonna do when other teams and kick these weaklings' asses? I'm the only one who—"

"Did I stutter?" Holding one hand out, Levi takes your stick from one of the other players (a common occurrence, for them to pick it up) and shoves it in your hands. "Get the fuck out and sit out for the rest of practice, or I'll kick this weakling's ass right now."

Even people who have played against him haven't given him the look that Jock's giving him now. A hateful gaze complete with bared teeth, like he's about to pounce.

"Fuck you, coach."

The worst thing, Levi thinks as he finally stalks off, mutter obscenities under his breath, is that unlike other players who get angry, this is the only who looks undeniably attractive while doing so.

And speaking of undeniably attractive.

Nighttime is the only time his migraine seems to die out, and sure, part of it is because he's not coaching anymore. Another part is that he can simply skate, without hearing shouts and without having to be aggressive. And the final part, is the company.

The first night he'd visited this rink, he'd found he wasn't alone.

"Sorry!" the stranger had whisper-shouted. "There's never anyone here usually, since the rink is closed."

"It's alright. You can skate, I know the rink is booked up with the trainings all the time."

"Yeah. But..." Her words seem to catch even her by surprise. "Well, it's a large area. We can share."

"You're here earlier than normal," she teases, already on the ice as usual. "Miss me, Levi?"

He snorts, already entering the rink with two sticks and a puck. "Better you than the idiots I deal with all day."

The woman's eyes are some of the nicest things he's seen, especially when she smiles. When she spins, one foot in the air, she doesn't know he's watching, and yet she seems to make a point to be completely entrancing.

He's never seen anyone skate like her. If his skills are a ten, then hers are a hundred.

"Here." He offers her a stick. "You said you played, right?"

"Um..." For some reason, she looks nervous. "I used to, back in high school."

(In high school, Levi was skating too, but the only time he played hockey was when someone, usually Erwin or Petra, managed to convince him to drop the attitude and play a match.)

"Play with me," he requests, "there's gear in my bag if you want it—"

"No," her response comes quickly, "um, no, I don't need gear, that's okay." Giving the stick a practice swing, she grins up at him. "But why are we playing today? You want some practice?"

"I honestly just need to remember why I like the sport." Levi groans, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe out a crick. Then he slides the puck into the center, not bothering to make sure it's a perfect fit. "The big match is in two days, and there's only so much I can fucking take training these assholes."

Levi notes immediately that she favors her left side. "Anyone in particular giving you problems?"

"The usual. Eren, Jean. Connie. And this one dick. Gets angry at everything that moves."

He moves first, but she still hits the puck before him, in a speed that few have demonstrated to him before. He can only blink as she moves past his shoulder. "Sounds like a handful. But maybe he's just got stuff going on?"

"What would he have going on?"

"Everyone has stuff going—hey!" she cries, when he steals the puck from her, swerving around and skating towards the other side. In a flash, she's going around the other side.

"Not an excuse to be an asshole, is it?"

"Well—no. But is he a good player?" Instead of coming up to him, she skates up to the net, right as he takes aim and swings.

Her stick outstretches before she moves, blocking the puck with a resounding smack and sending it sliding to the right.

This isn't a real match, so Levi takes the time to pause, raising a brow at her.

"One of the best I've seen."

"Then," and she takes her time too, offering him a sweet smile as she propels forward, stopping in front of him, "maybe you should cut him some slack."

A part of him wishes he could say the last time he felt his chest squeeze like that was a long time ago, to really make this moment special. But it was only a few hours ago, when the same man he's complaining about now had looked at him with hate, the exact opposite of the softness in your gaze.

"M'starting to think the guy's your boyfriend, the way you're batting for him."

She laughs, skating back as he follows her. "No. I don't have a boyfriend."

This is the first time a topic like this has come up. His heart twists happily. "Would you even date a hockey player?"

"Mm, I don't know. A lot of them are assholes."

She's not wrong. If Jock wasn't enough of an example, Levi definitely is.

"Something tells me you'd put them in their place."

Her hand is on the railing as she peers at him, coy features twisting into a smirk. "Flattery won't let you steal that puck."

Then she's speeding, like a bullet, straight for his net. Levi mimics her move from before, coming to stand in front of the net as she halts. Her eyes move down to his feet, than up to his eyes. Strangely enough, that order of observation is exactly how he teaches people to play.

Her fingers move, and she aims left. Before she can shoot, he's already moving to block her.

Victory shines on her face she she hits the puck to the right.

For a moment, Levi can't even wrap his mind around it. No one, no teammate or opponent or underling, has ever gotten past him like that.

"Jesus Christ," he finds himself muttering under his breath, "maybe you should be on the team."

Again she's grinning, spinning up to him to hook her fingers into the pockets of his suit jacket. "Trust me, you wouldn't want me."

One second, Levi's staring at her, mesmerized.

The next, his lips are on her's, as if to show her just how much he really does want her.

The tension in his stomach snaps, doing the only think he's wanted to do for months, aside from kicking Jock off the team. A flare of annoyance sets off an alarm in his head—he shouldn't be thinking of Jock at a time like this.

The kiss is brief, though, because she immediately pulls away, sliding back with a guilty expression.

Now that's not the look he'd want someone to have after he just kissed them.

"I...the game is in two days," he stupidly reiterates, "I was hoping you'd come watch."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips nervously. "Levi, I—I can't. I'm sorry." Letting the stick drop, she skates back, putting more distance between them. The rink feels colder than usual. "I really like you, but I...I can't."

There's nothing more he can say as she steps out, hurried and clumsy. All he can do is watch from afar, cussing himself out in his head. The one person he'd felt at ease with all these months, and he had to go and screw things up.

Before she leaves, in a moment of hesitation, she turns back to face him. "Good luck with the game, Levi. Wish Eren and Jean and Jock all my best."

And then she's gone.

The rink and stadium are now completely empty, with only the empty seats and his own gear strewn around to mock him with how lonely they look.

But instead of focusing on that, Levi only has one question.

When had he told her Jock's name?

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Antz

So as I mentioned earlier, I'm watching every Dreamworks animated movie (and special) ever because... I don't know, I fucking hate myself, I guess. But for reals, this studio is so weird because sometimes they'll make the greatest movies literally ever crafted (Prince of Egypt, How to Train Your Dragon, Puss in Boots the Last Wish) and other times they'll make absolute shit like what I had to fucking watch to kick this marathon off. Goddamn fucking Antz.

I plan on doing drive by reviews of each of these movies on here because well, what's the point of watching all these films if I'm not gonna share what I think. So yeah, let's start with 1998's Antz, the first Dreamworks animated film and by god its one of their worst.

If you asked me to tell you what Antz is about, I'm honestly not sure I'd be able to give you a coherent answer because I'm not sure Antz itself knows what Antz is about. Like I think its about individuality? About breaking free from opressive systems?? About thinking for yourself? I guess? But like its annoyingly heavy handed with that message to the point that it doesn't let its audience think for itself. It does a lot of telling instead of showing and as such creates a viewing experience as dull as the dirt these ants call home.

Also lets talk about these Antz. They are Ugly as Sin like seriously who looked at these character designs and thought this was ok???

Most stompable ants of all fucking time if you ask me and the non ants aren't much better. Behold, my new sleep paralysis demons:

As for how the characters act... yeah they're not much better than how they look. The main character, Z, is an annoying asshole who just spends most of the film bitching (and yes they actually use that word, this movie is weirdly littered with swears and cussing and sexual innuendos? More on that later) about his shitty lot in life and even once he breaks free he's still agressively uninteresting. His love interest Bala is just as uninteresting, an arrogant bitch who flip flops about how she feels about him with almost no development whatsoever. The side characters are all forgettable, and the villain, General Mandible is just your generic "wants to rule everyone and get rid of anyone who opposes him" bad guy. The world they inhabit isn't really that creative tbh, they hype up this place called Insectopia but its just a trash heap where a bunch of stoner bugs live and its really not that important to the plot at all really so why do we care???

Blatant product placement what what

Also yeah that plot. It starts out as Z being incontent with his lot in life as a simple worker ant and so he switches places with his friend Weaver so he can be a soldier ant, only to be the lone survivor of a battle against a group of opposing termites. This somehow leads to him and Bala winding up outside of the colony and they go on a lame ass adventure that seems incredibly rushed while Mandible is planning to wipe out all of the "lesser" ants and take Bala as his queen i guess? idk i kinda zoned out toward the end bc i was so soul-crushingly board with this movie.

The animation can be impressive for the time I suppose, that's really the only good thing I have to say about it but even then, the colors are dirty and unappealing, the characters are, like I said, all incredibly hard to look at, the music is bland and forgettable, the set pieces are garish and boring, and the writing oh god the writing.

Ok so I have no idea who this movie is meant to be for??? Like its rated PG right but they're constantly throwing out swears like bitch and ass and anus and making sex jokes and I'm just like??? What??? Is this a kids movie? Because what kid would enjoy this thoroughly unpleasant kinda dark movie? Is it for adults? Why would adults want to watch a movie about wisecracking ants??? Who is this for? Why did they make this? Ok well I know why because Pixar was making a very similar film at the very same time as this and Jeffery Katzenburg is a Petty Bitch

Really, at the end of the day, all I can say about this movie is just... don't bother with it? It really sucks, its agressively unappealing and unpleasant to sit through, and when its not assulting you with you how gross it is, its assualting you with how painfully boring it is. I don't think I even cracked a smile once while watching it. What a fucking way to start a Dreamworks marathon off on. Jesus.

Overall rating: 1/10

Verdict: Step on these damn Antz already

Next Review (Prince of Egypt)