#also i should say: when somebody hits you hard enough to leave a bruise we call it a 'derby kiss' which is just. perfpect potential right

[pettyprocrastination]

roller derby!abby seeing reader for the first time? ❤️‍🩹🫂😔❤️‍🩹

I can't decide if I want it to be a reader who is already doing derby or maybe a newbie reader so I'll do both lol

Newbie Skater

The first time Abby sees you is at a scrimmage. You aren't playing- your'e just a spectator. Another face in the crowd but one she hasn't seen before. You aren't wearing their team shirt or colors- but she sees the way your eyes light up as the bout begins and by half time your shouting encouragements in their favor. There's a moment of brevity, when the jam is over and she's leaving the track when she looks up and meets your eyes before you look away with a bashful smile in favor of whispering something in your friend's ear- she doesn't let herself get distracted but maybe she shows off a little bit. A show of strength and brutality for the pretty little thing in the stands watching her with bated breath- it may cost her a penalty or two but it's worth it when she sees you at concessions after the bout is over and you compliment her skill.

When she sees you at the first Incoming Skater Lesson run by the local league the week after her scrimmage, there's a pride thrumming in her chest because now she gets the one to comment on your form and teach you how to do crossovers, she just has to make sure not to say anything stupid when you reach out and grab her for stability each time you feel wobbly on your skates.

Veteran Skater

The first time she sees you is at a scrimmage your both competing in. There's always a kindness between the two teams, many are old friends who have played together years before or those who connect in mutual Facebook groups for their shared love of the same sport, something that overrides the aggressive thrumming in each player's veins they moment they step off the track and congratulate the same people that just minutes before they were trying to destroy.

When she first sees you on the track behind her, the opposing jammer eyeing the outside lane she simply sinks down into her heels and tells her team to hold you.

If only it was that easy.

You're fast. The type of fast that has her shouting to her teammates that you're going to take the inside but then you twist and dance along the out, taking long gazelle like steps on your toe-stops past her in a gust of wind that makes her blood boil each time you do. Abby hits you hard, sending your body crashing to the outside of the track before you pop back up and approach again with the same speed, the same intensity and the same passion that has her digging against the slick floors of the court they play on to keep you in place but you just keep fucking going. By the final whistle she's earned enough penalties trying to keep you from scoring points than her bench coach would like- but they win nontheless. There's that little part of her- the smug jackass that lives in her heart from years of not "being enough" that wants her to rub it in your face but before she gets the chance you take out your mouth-guard and offer her a dazzling smile with a breathless "good job" before you head to the locker room.

It's two hours later that she sees you again. After sharing sweaty but albiet love-filled hugs with friends who came to watch her play that somebody from your team taps her on the shoulder and tells her of an after party at a local bar. Part of her wants to decline. She drove by herself and is far too tired to endure any conversation deeper than "good job" and wants nothing more than to take a steaming hot shower and get some rest but finds herself going nonetheless- she tells herself it has nothing to do with their annoying little jammer who had the audacity to smile at her in the parking lot but Manny thought otherwise.

When Abby walks in she's greeted with the husky lure of Fleetwood Mac and the smell of greasy burgers. She barely gets to the bar before she sees you- now dressed tight top and a skirt that reaches down to your ankles, flaring out each time you turn like a character in a fairytale gesturing wildly while talking to your teammates. You look up, meeting her eyes and a wide grin grows over your face.

"You!"

Crossing the room in quick strides you raise your hand for a high-five, one she cautiously returns and tries not to think about just how tiny your hands are in comparison to hers.

"You hit like a motherfucker."

It's a compliment. Praise that makes her breath stutter and her voice shake when she says thank you. But then you make it worse because you're pretty. Even with your hair still a mess from wearing a helmet and your voice cracked from shouting all day you have the audacity to look cute when you should be frustrating her just as you did before. But you smile and talk about gameplay while praising her strength as a blocker on the track.

She knows she's in trouble because her heart is beating like she just ran a 4k and then you have the gall to lift up that skirt high on your thigh to show-off an already blackening bruise that you claim she gave to you and Abby realizes this Jammer isn't going to be leaving her mind anytime soon.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Omg! What happened? What did Joel do? What did Lenny do? Why was he getting arrested? What happened next? Oooh just more of that one please?

"Let me get this straight," Susie says, pacing Lenny's living room as Lenny gently presses some ice to Midge's cheek, checking the bruise periodically. "Midge did her set at the Button Club tonight, and she went back to talk to Joel, who was in his office, and when she got there, he was..."

"Fucked on cocaine," Lenny supplies. "And also pretty drunk."

Susie nods. "Right. And then he came onto Midge, who turned him down, because you two are disgustingly in love and engaged, and he's a schmuck anyways, and he decided that 'no' wasn't on the menu tonight."

Midge averts her eyes, pulling away from Lenny's ice pack to tug her dressing gown closer around herself.

"So he attacks Midge, hits her, slams her down on the desk in the office, she screams, catching Lenny's attention, who showed up to meet her for a drink and go home together. He slams in the door, drags Joel away, slams him into the bar, somebody calls the cops..."

"And now we're here," Midge says, taking the ice from Lenny and settling it back on her cheek.

Susie scowls. "I'll murder him."

"He's in jail," Lenny reminds her.

"I'll break in. I'll visit and bring him a poison cake," Susie says. "I'll squeeze that fucking fuckin' head of his through the cell bars and crack his skull open."

"You'll have to get in line," Lenny says darkly. "I wasn't finished with him when the cops showed up."

Midge reaches out, taking Lenny's hand with her free one. "Yes, you are done. I don't need you to go to jail with him. That was a close thing."

He sighs and rubs his eyes. "Yeah."

"You look like shit, Midge," Susie tells her.

"I know," Midge agrees. "And it's not going to be easy to cover all of this with makeup."

"I'll call Gordon Ford's team in the morning," Susie promises. "Let them know you had an accident and can't make this week's show. The bruises should fade by next week. Enough to cover 'em."

Midge closes her eyes. "I can't-I can't believe this happened. He's never been-this is not-that's not the Joel I know."

"It's hard not to lose yourself when you get hooked on something," Lenny comments, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm just glad I was there to pull him off of you."

Midge looks away. "Can we just- I want to get some sleep."

Lenny nods, watching her concernedly. "You uh...you want me to sleep on the couch tonight? Give you some space?"

She shakes her head. "No. I really don't."

Susie sets her jaw. "I'm gonna get outta your hair. Let you get some rest. I'll call you in the morning."

Midge bites her lip. "Susie..."

"Don't worry about a thing, Midge."

"Susie, no."

"No what?" Lenny asks, confused.

"Nothing," Susie says. "Nothing. You two have a good night." She points to Lenny. "You take care of our girl. I mean it. If I hear that you fell down on the one thing you're somewhat useful at, I'll shove your face into the toilet and flush."

Midge struggles to her feet, using Lenny's shoulder to balance. "Susie..."

"G'night, you two."

She leaves, closing the door behind her, and Midge slumps back down on the couch. "Shit."

"What?" Lenny asks.

"I'm pretty sure the second Joel gets out on bail, he's gonna get the shit kicked out of him," Midge explains.

"Can't say I'm unhappy about that," Lenny confesses. "I just wish I was the one doing the shit kicking."

"You're bad at it," Midge reminds him.

He nods. "Yeah. So? Bed?"

Midge takes a breath and turns to him, gazing at him. "Thank you, Lenny. If you hadn't come running..."

"I always will when you need me," he promises. "I love you, you know."

She closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder for a moment before sitting up and kissing him softly. "Bed," tells him, before getting to her feet.

[hurthidehurthatehide]

Trying to figure out if being co-creative on something is repeatedly messing me up emotionally because I have an emotional situation I need to resolve, or if it's because a boundary is being crossed that I should address, or a little of both. The fact is, if I carefully make a finished product, and pour a lot of time and energy into it, and then give it to someone else and they make major edits, especially deleting huge chunks of what I did, THAT I CONSULTED WITH THEM ON EVERY STEP OF THE WAY, then my emotional reactions are as follows:

despite trying to check in before every major step and with every edit to make sure I was going ahead with something that all of us liked, the product that I turned out was somehow so inadequate it had to be erased and replaced. Thus, I'm not good enough at art to impress or even satisfy my co-artist and unnecessary to this project, and I should stop trying to contribute.

Despite verbally saying that the work I did was good, co-artist also offered multiple times to take the project back again with the stated intention of helping, before I was even done with my pass. Logically, I believe I can take that offer at face value. Emotionally though, that plus this drastic change as soon as the file was handed over, makes it feel like my involvement was an unwanted necessary evil to be gotten over with as quickly as possible so that co-artist can do what they wanted to/thought would be better.

These are worst-case scenarios and I know they're just the reactions of my emotional self, who's in need of re-parenting and terrified that the only ability/skill she feels she can contribute is unwanted or inadequate. But at the same time, it feels reasonable to say, "hey, I don't want this to become a regular thing, there's a reason I try to check in so frequently, there's a reason I work so hard on these art pieces for our project, and it's because it hurts really badly when you do things like this".

This is the kind of hurt and frustration that gives me intrusive thoughts about hurting myself, trying to hit myself hard enough to give myself bruises, things like that. It's the frustrated hamster wheel of brainbad that goes "I feel bad" "so say something" "but they should have the right/be comfortable to make changes on our project, I can't ask them to stop" "you don't have to ask them to stop, but you should tell your friends when they hurt you" "I've already told them multiple times about different things though, they're going to get tired of tip-toeing around my anxiety and stop wanting to interact with me" "but if you don't talk to them, you'll feel worse and then resentful and angry and more easily upset all over again, don't you want someone to know you're hurt?" "Yeah, I want somebody to know I'm hurt, but if I tell somebody, I'm whiny and high-maintenance and annoying and dramatic and putting on a show to make people feel bad for me" "You have to express your pain somehow" "If I punish myself for the inadequacy I'm feeling, it might leave bruises and then people would know I'm sad and I wouldn't have to tell them and I wouldn't be a bad person about it" "No that is not what I meant, also the people who made you sad wouldn't even know about the bruises, this would be a bandaid solution at absolute BEST" "Slam your arms into things. Punch your arms as hard as you can" "we don't do that anymore" "bruise yourself. you'll feel like a tragic sad hero character and you can imagine a weepy audience who actual cares about you and is compelled that you're hurting. that's what we want, right?" "we don't do this anymore" "you're not good enough and you should punish yourself in a visible way so it's clear you know already, nobody needs to tell you, you already know and you're penitent for being the way you are and people will feel bad for you instead of being disappointed in your failings or angry at you for not being good enough"

The beginning is different, but the end of the spiral is almost always the same. It'll feel better in the morning, but for right now it's raw, and stupid, and repetitive, and stupid, and I don't do that anymore. I've tried really hard not to be the kind of person who does that anymore. But I hurt myself to stay awake on a long drive a week ago, and the whole time I hoped I would have bruises, and I relished the chance to do it again. It's stupid. I hate it. It's all so overwhelming at 2:30 in the morning. It doesn't feel like my contributions are valued. I don't have a sense of my own value beyond my ability to contribute Well-Completed Tasks. Expressing that I feel bad feels repetitive and irritating at best, and irrational and demanding at worst. Hurting myself feels safer, like something I deserve, or penance, or a cowardly out to trick people into being nice to poor fragile wittle me. I'm running circles around myself. I hate this.

I need to go to sleep. It's too much right now.

[alwaysmarveling]

Call Me Back

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: death, a small sexual innuendo, and lots of commas and long sentences

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Wanda promised each other you would always call to check in, and Wanda’s going to do her best to keep that promise, no matter what.

The first time you met Wanda was… well, when was the first time you met Wanda? Was it when wisps of red flashed in front of your eyes, projecting images so horrific and lifelike that you all but collapsed in a heartbeat? Or was it when she stepped forward to shake your hand timidly, grief and determination filling the witch as she promised to make up for it?

“I- I wouldn’t have done it if I… we were just trying…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you had told her with a smile before confiding in her about your own missteps, how you’d wreaked havoc on all of New York with your powers of body modification after your own parents died, how Fury finally got the Avengers to catch you, and how they quickly became your new family.

-

“You mean they really almost burned the kitchen down trying to make you a birthday cake?” The brunette giggled later that night as you recounted the story of your sixteenth birthday, the two of you sitting comfortably beside each other on the living room sofa.

“Yup. And when Nat showed up with an ice cream cake fifteen minutes later to find smoke in the living room, Sam told me she freaked on everyone.”

“Excuse me, Y/N, I did not do any ‘freaking.’ God, is that what you teenagers are calling it now?” The two of you erupted into laughter, and the redhead could do nothing more than shake her head, a smirk playing on her lips no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

---

Much like Nat and Steve predicted, the two of you became fast friends. You sat next to each other on movie nights, sang karaoke in your room when you thought everyone else was asleep (if they weren’t awake when you started, they certainly were once you were thirty seconds into Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”), and, much to Steve’s dismay, when you finally became confident with your ability to grow wings on your back, snuck out regularly for late-night flights around the compound.

But you also insisted on being there for Wanda’s training sessions, even if it meant you had to wake up an hour earlier. You cradled the witch in your arms when she woke up night after night with an aching hole in her heart before you eventually insisted you guys just share a room. And you promised her, above everything else, that when you went out for anything, whether it be a quick grocery run or a month-long mission, you’d let her know you were okay.

You knew the promise she pleaded you to make was a result of the anxiety she suffered. She’d lost everyone she cared about; if a simple text or call was enough to put her at ease, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

---

“Wanda,” you’d whispered, the teen immediately sitting up straight when she’d heard the cracks in your voice. “I- I don’t know what to do. I’m safe, but...” She told you to stay there, don’t move, she’d be there in minutes. And, with your brain unable to function enough to think of any other option, you listened.

Her heart broke at the sight of you, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and your head hung, you feet occasionally kicking the wet sidewalk. The neon sign of the restaurant your date had promised to meet you at illuminated one side of your face, allowing her to see the tears that you had tried but failed so desperately to hold in. But the witch didn’t let you see her emotions, instead whisking you away from the unfamiliar section of the city, brushing the tears off of your cheeks and bringing you to the twenty-four-hour diner for milkshakes. She made a fool of herself in front of the waitstaff until tears flowed from your eyes once again, but this time, the crystalline drops rolled down your raised cheeks, aching from smiling too hard. 

-

When you had a panic attack during training because you couldn’t get one of your body modification attempts to reverse—”Wanda, I cannot be stuck with claws for hands, I can’t!”—she refused to let you hang up until the steady sounds of her own breathing calmed you down, the sharp nails receding and making way for the soft pads of your very human fingertips.

-

And when she called you after the mission in Lagos, you worked tirelessly to complete your own solo mission as soon as you could. You returned to the tower to find her holed up in the bedroom, news broadcasts playing nonstop on the television to remind her of the horrors she’d committed; accident or not, she told you, she needed to hold herself accountable. You simply shook your head at her, holding out your hand without another word. She didn’t take it at first.

“You can’t fix it, Y/N. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She was expecting you to fight her back on it, yell at her and demand that she take your hand, or perhaps you’d go the complete opposite direction and leave her alone, let her be swallowed by guilt and anguish, rip open old wounds and form new ones as she thought of how she tore apart families that were probably much like her own. You did neither.

Wanda’s green eyes remained fixed on your outstretched hand. You stayed silent, one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to see what would happen should she choose not to take it. It was only then that she realized, for once in her life, the person she most loved wasn’t leaving; the support she so desperately needed wouldn’t be yanked away from her when it was mere centimeters from her grasp.

So she rested her fingers in the palm of your hand, and you pulled her out to the balcony where the two of you had spent night after night watching the stars instead of sleeping, making up funny names for each of them and rolling in fits of laughter that only came to those delirious and sleep-deprived enough to understand just what was so funny. Except, this time, instead of dropping into the oversized beanbag chair that was the usual spot of your stargazing shenanigans, she watched curiously as you removed your shirt. Her mouth dropped as you closed your eyes and allowed the white feathers to emerge from beside the ridges of your spine. Although it was a process she’d seen several times before, your modifications had never ceased to amaze her, and your angel-like wings had always been her favorite. The witch admired the additions as you allowed them to flap slowly, once, twice, before turning back to her.

“Let’s go,” you finally spoke, the order gentle but leaving no room for negotiation.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” That was enough for the brunette, who squeezed your hand before following your lead. She allowed you to guide her through the maze of clouds and couldn’t help but smile softly as the sun’s rays hit your face at just the right angle. You wore the exhaustion from your recent mission on your face, and streaks of dirt covered the bruises that she was sure littered your body. But she was content, in awe, because you were you. You didn’t put up walls to hide your scars from the world, didn’t use passive-aggressiveness to hide the passion that burned in your heart. At the end of the day, you were good, purely and truly good. You were an angel; even the sun knew it.

What Wanda didn’t realize, but what you taught her that night, as she sat surrounded by sunflowers, the moon, thousands of gleaming stars, and the tickle of your feathers as your wing pulled her close to you, was that she was one too.

“I’m glad you called me,” you whispered, your eyes not leaving the open sky as you pointed out a particularly bright spot. “I’m gonna call that one… Philip. He looks regal, real proud. Look at him, so much brighter than the others, and he knows it too.” The witch breathed out a soft chuckle, stroking her fingers over your feathers as she responded.

“I’m glad I called you too. And I think Philip is a good name for him. What about that one?”

“Hmm… Walter? He’s a bit more serious, I think. But you see the one next to him?” You waited until you got a nod from the girl before continuing. “That’s his sister. She makes sure he has fun, even when he says he doesn’t want to. But you name her, Wands. Naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” She squeezed the elbow that you nudged her with before giving in.

“Alright… that’s Delia. And, yeah, she’s the best. The life of the party. Walter keeps her grounded, though,” Wanda added, to which you agreed to with a hum. You two fell quiet after that, enjoying the comfortable silence and looking up at the twinkling lights, some of them gaining names and stories, others waiting to be named another night.

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You call me if you ever need me, okay? I know we started this with me calling you, but I’m here for you too.” The witch met your eyes with a firm bob of her head, but you continued, desperate to make sure she understood. “And if I don’t pick up at first, you call me back, okay? Call me until I respond, promise?”

“I promise,” Wanda soothed gently. “I will.”

“Okay, good, good. Because,” Wanda felt a brush of your feathers against her upper arm as you fluttered your wings, slightly agitated, “because I think I love you. I mean, um, I know. I know I love you. I love you. Yeah, I-” Wanda shut you up with a kiss, her lips pressed urgently against yours. And if you hadn’t lost your breath from your rambling or your declaration of love to the girl of your dreams, then you most definitely lost it as your lips melted into hers, in the comforting warmth of her palm against your cheek, and in the words that left her mouth as you finally pulled apart, breathless.

“I will, Y/N, I promise. Because I love you too.”

---

People thought you were inseparable before you started dating, but they all realized how wrong they were after that night. The two twin beds quickly became a queen-sized mattress, sideline support during training sessions became fierce yet playful spars, and the private giggles you guys shared grew tenfold. Fury wasn’t exactly happy that his unofficial daughter was now dating, but he was pleased by how efficiently the two of you worked together, which led you to this moment, the two of you covering the Quinjet while waiting for the rest of the Avengers to finish their business inside the massive Hydra base. With Wanda covering the ground and you in the sky, flying with the white-feathered wings that Wanda loved so dearly, the two of you held off the swarms of Hydra agents relatively well. With a small break in between incoming agents, Wanda looked up to check on you, but she was a moment too late. Before she could even think to warn you, the pure feathers she loved to brush her fingers through fell from the sky, the white stained with red, your screams ripping through her eardrums.

No one, including Wanda, had time to think as she exploded with a new rage, one that hadn’t run through her in years. One that she hoped she would never experience again, but here she was. And there you were.

While you were held in the air by her signature red mist, the opposing agents fell to the ground. She didn’t care about their screams, only yours. And with them all dealt with, she could turn to you, rushing you both into the Quinjet and yelling for the other Avengers to get back here, now.

But her efforts were futile. She could press down on the wounds all she wanted, beg for you to come back until her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but nothing would work. You were gone the instant the missile had hit you, and as much as Wanda wanted to deny the truth, she knew it just as much as your other teammates did when they rushed onto the Quinjet. You were gone before you could say a single goodbye.

---

The first time Wanda called was from your shared bedroom. She dialed your number before tracing the pillow where your head would have laid, running her fingers over the cartoon carrots that covered the comforter. The yellow bedding set was a gag gift Tony had gotten the two of you when you got your new bed.

“You know, since I figure the two of you will be going at it like rabbits,” he winked before getting immediately smacked in the back of the head by Steve.

“They will be doing no such thing,” the supersoldier had chastised him with a roll of his eyes. “God, Stark, sometimes I forget you have a brain when you say such stupid things.”

But you loved it, telling Wanda, “The carrots remind me of you, Bunny.” And how could she return the present when you were being so sweet about it? But the sheets didn’t make her smile in the same way they once did because you were gone. No one was there to tease her about the way her nose wiggled much like the little white fluffy creatures or promise to get her carrots from the market the next day.

The call went to voicemail, and as bittersweet as it was, Wanda savored it because it was you. Your voice. But the beep came far too soon, and your turn was done. So she spoke. 

“Y/N, hey, it’s me, Wanda. I, um, I love you. I’ll always love you, yeah?” The witch put the phone down, thinking that was all she could bear to say as the lump in her throat ballooned in size and hot tears filled her eyes. But just before time was up, her hand shot up to press the device against her ear again. “Call me back, milaya.”

---

The second time Wanda called was from the balcony. The brunette eyed the sparkling diamonds that filled the sky, wondering how you could be gone when, the last time she was here, you were right there beside her, laughing over the boys’ latest shenanigans and Ned, the newly named star. 

Now, the beanbag chair felt too big, too empty without another person sitting next to her. Without you. So she dialed your number, the only number she bothered to learn by heart, and waited for the dulcet tones of your voice. As the dial tone rang, she ran one hand over the white feather that laid gingerly in her lap. Natasha had given it to her along with several others a few days after your death. Each of the team members had one to remember you by, but the spy had picked out the biggest and most brilliant ones to give to Wanda.

“I know how much her wings meant to you-” Natasha stiffened as Wanda threw her arms around her. But the witch didn’t care, her tears soaking the redhead’s shirt as she tried to find the words to thank her. She couldn’t, but it was okay. Natasha knew anyway. Wanda had little time to reflect on the memory before her face brightened at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, this is Y/N-

“And her girlfriend, Wanda! She’s taken, so don’t even think about it, you jerk!” Wanda smiled slightly at your jubilant laughter, remembering how you’d pushed her away for interrupting you.

“I’m not available right now, but leave me your name, number, and message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can, okay? Talk to you soon.” The witch’s eyes closed slightly as the greeting ended with a spell of your giggles before it was interrupted by that damn beep. God, how she hated that beep. Nevertheless, she took a breath and spoke out into the clear night sky, looking up at the stars as she did so.

“Hi, lyubov moya, it’s me. Wanda. I’m calling you back, just like you told me to. I’m not okay. I need you. I love you.” Her breath caught in her throat, forcing her to pause for a moment, but she forced herself to keep going a second later. “Sam and Bucky did the stupidest thing today. Nat and Steve were all over their asses. You should’ve seen it. I miss you. Please, call me back. I’ll tell you all about it.”

---

The last time Wanda called was from the sunflower field. The two of you hadn’t been here since the night you told her you loved her. In fact, it took Wanda several hours to find it since she hadn’t been paying much attention to the route the first time you came.

Once again, the night was clear, the stars lighting up the dark canvas with their radiance. She missed the feeling of your wing wrapped around her, of your presence next to her. But she had one of your feathers in her fingers and your voice in her ear, and to ask for more would be greedy, right?

“Hi, angel. It’s Wanda. I’m calling you back to leave a message, but I can’t do it again after this because I don’t want your voicemail to fill up, okay? I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I need to be able to hear your voice, so I can’t let it fill up. But I haven’t forgotten you, I promise I haven’t. I never will. I’m still-” Wanda swallowed, a fighting effort to calm the waver in her voice. “I’m still not okay, but I’m trying. For you. But I’m not okay, I need you to call me back. I’ve named one up there Halia, but her twin sister needs a name. And naming stars is a two-person job, you know.” The witch sniffed once as the corner of her lip curved up slightly, remembering the playfulness in your voice when you’d first said the line. “Call me back, Y/N, please.”

With the message over, Wanda clutched the phone to her chest, her breaths becoming faster and shallower as she closed her eyes, trying to accept the knowledge that it’d be the last time she’d ever leave a message, the knowledge that she was really losing you… the knowledge that she already lost you.

---

Months went by. Wanda wasn’t sure how they did, but they did. The first sign of it was the first Halloween without you, as she saw the other couples dressing up in matching costumes that you would’ve loved, costumes you would’ve pointed out to Wanda with an excited bounce and told her you’d have to wear next year. The next was Thanksgiving, when Wanda ran through the list of everything she was thankful for and came up short when she thought about the people she still had left. And then it was Christmas, and Valentine’s Day, and the first day of summer.

And while Wanda did her best to move on, she always found herself under the stars, dialing your number. She sat on the balcony, in the sunflower field, wherever she could see the sky, and she listened to your voice telling her that you’d call her back as soon as you could, always forcing herself to hang up a second before the beep could cut you off. Wanda named every other star she saw, leaving the ones in between for you and hoping that you’d approve of the names she chose.

“I’m naming that one Angel for you, Y/N,” Wanda murmured. “It’s even brighter than Philip. It’s the brightest star in the sky. I know you think it’s silly to name things after people, but this one’s just special, so you’re gonna have to make an exception, okay?” The brunette’s lips stopped moving, but her eyes stayed wide open as she watched the star as if, if she watched it long enough, studied it hard enough, you would materialize from its luminescence. As if you would come back to her. But when you didn’t, she finally allowed her watering eyes to rest, her eyelids drooping to surround her in darkness.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” The witch’s voice was softer than it had ever been, more tired. But this time, there was no one to whisk her off and make her forget the heaviness of it all. “I need you so badly. I love you so much. I always will. But, please, angel, call me back.”

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 5

Happy Saturday!

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post the last chapter of After The Ceremony, but I just couldn't wait! I am so close to finishing the first chapter of my new fic called You Painted Me Golden which I will be posting later this week maybe even Tuesday. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on this story! I never would have finished without all of your encouragement, and I am so appreciative! This story can also be found on AO3

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Not super explicit, but nsfw just to be safe

Azriel was a wreck of nerves as he stared at the solid wooden door in front of him. Elain was on the other side — his soulmate, his literal soulmate, his other half was only a knock away, and Azriel, who had been in countless battles and performed unspeakably brutal acts without so much as flinching, was scared. He was scared to show her the knowledge the book in his hand held because even though he knew that Elain had feelings for him, what if she didn’t want this?

He took a steadying breath and raised his fist to knock when the door opened. His hazel eyes looked down to find a flustered Elain looking up at him, her brown eyes warm with relief and crackling with desire. The little sigh that escaped nearly broke him.

“Hi,” Az said lamely, but that was all it took for Elain to launch herself at him. Her arms twining around his neck and her legs wrapping around his hips, her sweet smell of jasmine went straight to his head, and he had to prop his hand against the door jam because his knees wobbled and threatened to give out. “Elain.” He groaned and took a deep breath, trying to inhale as much of her scent as he could.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered and pulled back to plant kisses across his face. She stopped long enough to give him a heated yet shy smile, “Thanks for coming back.”

“I’ll always come back, Elain,” Azriel said and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so small it was adorable how easily she fit in his arms, even when he was holding her she wasn’t quite eye-level. “Always.”

She beamed at him, and her smile looked like sunlight streaming through a rain cloud, and suddenly every worry, every hesitation, and every apprehension disappeared. He walked through the door, set her on the closest surface —which happened to be the counter in her kitchenette that was also splattered with flour and filled with baking equipment— at his questioning glance she said, “I was stress baking.”

Azriel released a small chuckle and fully took in her appearance. Flour was sprinkled in her messy hair and her cheeks were flush, she had an almost drunken look on her face as she gazed at him with heavy eyes. She looked absolutely adorable. He loved seeing her rumpled and flustered. And suddenly an image burst into his mind of Elain with a rounded belly breaking bread, and two children — an older male with dark hair, and a younger female honeyed hair— running through the kitchen, and his heart started to ache.

The small smile on her face tugged at his heart.

“Have you seen that? In one of your visions,” Azriel asked and at her confused look he explained. “Us, or you, with children.” The loving, knowing smile on her face was his answer.

Wordlessly, Azriel opened the book from the library and handed it to her. She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and took the book from him. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the words in front of her, and Azriel soaked in every small movement her face made. He was so used to watching her from afar that he relished the opportunity to gaze at her freely. Her face was so naturally expressive it warmed his heart that she didn’t feel the need to guard herself and hide what she was feeling around him, he had noted that she did it with the rest of their family, but not with him.

Slowly Elain lifted her head and her wide eyes connected with Azriel’s. He spent the last 500 years training himself to have an unreadable face at all times, and all that hard word came crumbling down as Elain let out a breathy “oh.” He let her see everything he was feeling: his fear, his anxiety, his limitless and unyielding love. He put it all on his face for her to see.

Elain, more collected than she had the right to be, placed the book beside her and cupped his face in her hands. Azriel stepped between her legs, and his hands gently landed on her hips. He felt the breath leave his lungs as Elain pressed the sweetest kiss on his lips. She pulled back just enough and said, “I love you, Azriel.”

Her heart was threatening to crack her ribs in two. Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else once she saw the openness on his face, her heart almost broke at the tender emotions laid bare on Azriel’s beautiful face. Elain watched, and the shadowsinger was surprisingly easy to read without his walls up — she saw the disbelief, the twinge of uncertainty, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of his fears and self doubt. She supposed she had the rest of her life to do that.

“I love you, Azriel,” Elain repeated herself and brought his face closer to hers. She brushed her lips against his, which were slightly more puckered than usual due to her hands holding his cheeks, and she had to hold her own tears back as she felt his warm tears stream down his face. “And I need you to know that. This soul bond between us, whatever it is, I would love you just as much without it. I love every scar on your body, and I won’t stop loving everything about you until my heart stops beating because it only beats for you.”

She kissed him again. Her fingers cupped his strong jaw, and his grip on her hips was so tight she knew there would be bruises, but she didn’t mind — she loved how strong he was, and she didn’t want him to hold back, ever. Their lips moved together, slow and unrushed yet Elain could feel his emotion with every brush of his tongue. She pulled back and brushed away his tears with her lips. Her hand slid down his neck to rest over his chest, and Elain could feel his heart pounding just as hard as her own.

“Soul mates, huh?” Elain asked with a silly grin. “How would you feel if I said I already guessed that?”

Azriel let out a harsh laugh.

“Did you?”

Elain gave him a playful nod and said, “Yes. Ever since we all sat down to dinner the first night, I just couldn’t get you out of my head, and when you came for me. I was screaming so loudly, so loudly down whatever bond I could find, and you came for me. When I saw you I knew that my prayers had been answered — in more ways than one. That was when I knew you were the only male for me. The only male that I would ever want. The only male I would ever love.”

Azriel’s hand came up and pressed against hers, pushing her hand closer to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. He licked his lips before saying in a broken voice, “This is yours. I tried to ignore it for so long, I hope it wasn’t — I hoped my heart couldn’t belong to someone else because that’s fucking terrifying. And I thought that it made sense in a perfectly twisted way, that I finally found someone I could love and somebody who could love me back, but the only catch was that she had a mate— the cauldron had given hers to someone else,” A small smile formed at his lips. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a damn about what the cauldron said. I’m not very good with my words, but I will show you everyday that I love you. When I bring you coffee in the morning. When I kiss you awake and kiss you to sleep. When I have to beat up Cassian for the stupid things he says,” Elain couldn’t stop the laugh that forced it’s way out. “Just know that whatever I do, I do it with love for you.”

Elain flung herself at Azriel, and this time he was prepared for her. His arms enclosed her in the safest place she had ever known. Azriel lifted her off the counter, without breaking their kiss, and carried her into her room. He only stopped when his shins hit the wood of the bed, and he let out a curse as he took in the tiny cot.

“It was just meant for one. I don’t think my sister thought I would be… entertaining in the bedroom.” Elain explained with a blush. Gods did he love when she blushed.

“Hold on tight, Love.” Azriel said, and Elain knew what was coming next. In the blink of an eye everything was black and she was engulfed in shadow, and a moment later she was back in Azriel’s room. It looked exactly how it did early this morning when she left it. The same fire crackling in the fireplace and the same cozy quilt on the bed. Elain thought it was cute that he slept with the quilt, but she wasn’t sure why.

Azriel tossed her gently on the bed, only to prop his arms on either side of her, and kiss her again. He kissed her as if he were drinking from her, sipping at her lips, as if she was his only source of life. Elain let out a moan as her finger went to his hair. She loved his hair. He kissed her, and with every kiss they leaned a little farther back on the bed until he was crushing her with his weight. She loved how heavy he was on top of her; it made her feel safe. Elain brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, and she shifted her legs forward in a deliberate move, and this time they both let out a groan at the friction.

Scarred hands fisted in her dress, and Azriel pulled away to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” Elain said breathlessly. “Just don’t rip it. It’s hard to find dresses that match your siphons.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel said with a surprisingly gentle kiss, and removed her dress with such delicacy it was borderline reverent, and in no time she was naked beneath him.“And I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives. Morning,” Azriel pressed his lips to her lips. “Noon,” He kissed her bare stomach. “And night.” He pressed a kiss to her hot center.

All of his desperation seemed to have melted away and he licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, as if she was something to be savored and enjoyed. Elain wished she had his serenity, but her fire was burning hotter than ever, and Azriel’s tongue was the only thing that could soothe her. She gripped his hair a little too harshly and ground against her face in a lewdness she had never experienced before.

The growl that came from Azriels throat vibrated in all the right places that she couldn’t stop herself from coming all over his face. She rode out her orgasm, until the fog lifted from her mind, and when she opened her eyes she saw his molten eyes gazing at her as he licked her center. His wings fluttered ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Elain said with a sudden wave of doubt. “Was- was that ok?”

He grinned at her in a way that promised pleasure and said, “That was more than ok,” He crawled up the bed to her until he was right above her. “I think hearing you scream as you come on my tongue is my new favorite sound.”

Elain’s face heated and she gently pushed his shoulder.

“Do you think someone heard?” Elain whispered and Azriel threw his head back with a laugh. A wild and free sound that resonated deep in Elain’s soul. He didn’t think he had ever laughed when he was in bed with a woman before, but he found he loved it.

“I hope they did.” Azriel said with a self-satisfied smile, and laughed even harder at Elain’s horrified expression. He didn’t stop himself from kissing her nose. He would never stop himself from kissing her ever again.

“Az!” Elain whisper-yelled, and Azriel couldn’t help but adore her more.

“Promise me something,” Azriel said. His hand found hers, and he wrapped their fingers together before brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. “Promise me that you will never hold back. Never suppress your sighs, moans, or screams — even if you’re screaming at me for something I did wrong,” The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Elain’s heart. “Never feel embarrassed when you feel anything, especially when you feel pleasure.” The vulnerability melted away into something smoother and headier that caused Elain’s skin to heat and prickle.

“I promise.”

Azriel shifted just a little and Elain felt the blunt edge of him at her entrance, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan came from her throat. He brought their entwined hands up over her head, and the other placed itself at her hip. Elain would have sworn that her blood was boiling wherever he touched her.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and Elain was too muddled from her lust to form words, so she gave him the barest of nods. His lips captured hers is a slow, lazy kiss, and if Elain were capable of thinking she would have been irritated by how collected he was. She felt more impatient than she had in her entire life, and true to her promise she didn’t hold back, she lifted her hips and let out a sharp breath at the feel of him inside of her.

Elain’s eyes had opened just in time to see Azriel’s roll back into his head.

“Fuck.” Azriel let out a jagged breath. He held himself still, Azriel knew how large he was and that Elain needed to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of her soft, velvety heat clenching around him — coupled with an ungodly amount of restraint — caused his body to tremble. He waited until he felt her relax around him before pressing deeper into her, and after a small eternity she accepted all of him.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. He waited to hear Elain’s incoherent mumbling before speaking again. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be.”

The brown eyes that gazed up at him somehow turned incredibly clear.

“I’ll take whatever you give,” Elain said with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to hold back either.”

She had shattered his self control — completely annihilated it and smashed it to smithereens. He heard him promise her that the next time would be better, but his hips were already snapping into hers, and then their lips were seering each other's skin, and the smell of their arousal and sweat perfumed the room.

Neither of them cared that the bedframe was hitting the wall at an alarming rate, and that if their family didn’t know what was happening, then they certainly did now.

The only thing the lovers cared about was each other.

Azriel had never left so drained, yet so light, after making love. Actually, Azriel thought, this was probably the first time he had ever made love before.

Soon after Azriel found his release he gracelessly flopped onto Elain. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, or pull himself out of her body, but he needed to feel her. Feeling her skin against his reminded Azriel that it was real — that what had happened between them, something he had never even let himself dare to hope, was real and that no one would take it from him.

“Azriel?” Elain said, her voice thick with sleepy pleasure. This time it was Azriel’s turn to form some type of disjointed reply of random sounds, which caused a sense of giddiness to flood Elain. She had done that to the shadowsinger. She made him feel so good that he couldn’t form words. “I think we should do that as often as possible,” She suggested and was pleased when she felt him nod. His head was tucked into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her neck. “I think I want us to make love in a meadow. I found this beautiful clearing a couple months ago, it’s so secluded, it would be the perfect spot. I want to see how your skin looks in the sunlight, fully exposed. All of your skin.”

Azriel could tell that she was slightly embarrassed by her request, and his heart thrummed excitedly with the knowledge that she felt safe and comfortable enough to share that with him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that. He peered up at her and said, “As you wish, my love.”

Eventually, their frantic love making turned into lazy melding of their bodies and souls. All day and night they planted hot kisses on each other, their bodies easily finding a perfect pace every time they made love, and they stopped only when they felt the need to sleep, but whoever woke up first would wake the other in the most delightful way.

Nobody dared disturb them. Not even to bring them food.

As the dawn broke the next morning Elain and Azriel came to an unspoken agreement that it was finally time to face their family and return to reality, no matter how much they wished they could stay in their own world they created. When they finally tore themselves away from each other long enough to put some clothes on and go downstairs, they realized how hungry they were. Not two seconds after smelling the freshly cooked bacon did Elains stomach growl, in a very unladylike way, and notify everyone in the dining room of their presence.

Everything looked almost the same as it did the day before, except this time Mor was sitting at the table with an absurd amount of food piled on her plate, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

Mor was looking at the pair with a knowing grin, and Cassian’s wolfish smile was almost enough to ruin the bliss that Elain and Azriel felt. Almost, but not quite. Feyre and Nesta looked almost as happy as Elain felt, and both Az and Elain were surprised at the happiness on Rhysand’s face.

“Good morning.” Elain said tentatively. She noted that they didn’t bother to wait for them to eat. Azriel didn’t say anything, but he followed Elain to the buffet table and held two plates that she filled with bacon, ham, eggs, bread, and potatoes. It was more food than Az had ever seen Elain eat at once, and a blush coated her cheeks at his raised everbrow. It was obvious to everyone in the room how Elain had worked up such an appetite.

They remained silent as they sat in the two open seats at the table, ignoring how everyone watched their movements. Azriel smiled fondly as he watched Elain prepared their coffee.

“Took my advice, huh?” Cassian broke the silence, which caused a flurry of events. Mor, Feyre, and Nesta all scolded him — Mor even smacked him on the head. Amren gave an amused smile, and Rhysand rolled his eyes affectionately, but his smile turned wolfish as well.

“Do you know?” Elain asked, fighting off any embarrassment she might have felt. She didn’t love the idea of her family knowing all of the sensual details, but she knew she did nothing wrong. Maybe someday she would feel more comfortable discussing her sex life, but right now she wanted to keep it between her and Azriel. “About the bond?”

They all nodded their heads.

“And you're happy about it?” Elain asked the group, but it was really directed towards Rhysand.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rhysand said with an annoying grin. “A bond created by the Mother certainly trumps a mating bond, and now that there is no cause for a Blood Duel there’s no real chance of you guys starting the next war,” The High Lord stopped and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

Elain reached under the table to grab Azriel’s hand to give it a squeeze. All of her worries were quickly vanishing except one. She turned to Feyre to ask, “Is Lucien still here?”

Feyre looked at her with surprise in her blue eyes, and Elain knew why; She never once sought out Lucien before, but Elain had hoped to catch him before he left. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

“He’s packing now,” Feyre explained. “At some point yesterday after you left breakfast Lucien tried to feel you through the bond, but the bond wasn’t there,” Her eyes went back and forth between her sister and the spymaster. “We connected the dots after Mor told us what happened.”

“I’d like to speak with him before he leaves.” Elain said, and that was the end of that. They all went back to their breakfasts and simply enjoyed the food and each other's company, and they tolerated Cassian’s crude jokes.

It was an hour after they had finished breakfast that Lucien was ready to travel home to the human lands. Feyre, Rhysand, Elain, and Azriel waited in the parlor to see him off. Lucien shook hands with Rhysand and said a quick goodbye before turning to Feyre to give her a warm hug. When Lucien finally turned towards Elain, who was tucked into Azriel’s side, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he saw the bond between them. For whatever reason he hadn’t noticed the bond between them yesterday, and it was only now that he saw the silver-blue river flowing between them. Elain would have loved to see it again.

“I hope you travel safely,” Elain said with a kind smile. “And I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Lucien tipped his head towards her and said, “I hope you are happy,” He turned towards Azriel and almost all of the warmth in his face had faded. Their relationship was still impersonal and cold, but they had hundreds of years to fix that. “Treat her well.” Was all the goodbye that Azriel got, and the shadowsinger’s response was only a narrowing of his eyes.

“Oh, Lucien!” Elain remembered right before Lucien went on his way. A big smile formed on her face as she said, “Vassa loves orange carnations. Especially ones from the field where you walk.”

Elain was delighted by the blush that appeared on his face, and the stutter that he had as he tried to figure out how she knew. It took a second before everything clicked into place and he realized that she had seen it. Lucien gave a warm thank you before leaving.

“Playing matchmaker?” Feyre asked with a bright smile.

“The world could use more love.” Elain responded before beaming up at Azriel, and she saw him gazing down at her with pure adoration and unadulterated affection. Love churned in his hazel eyes.

“I agree.” Azriel muttered and pulled her into a kiss.

They were finally free to kiss as much as they wanted, and Azriel was going to make every kiss count.

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.04

Masterlist

“You found me then.”

Murphy nodded and sunk down to the ground next to you. It had seemed like a good idea to hide out in the library, it was closed off and you assumed nobody would look for you there. But you had forgotten that nobody knew you the way John Murphy does.

Murphy frowned seeing you so upset. “What’s going on Alba? You have been acting strange for weeks.”

You shook your head and wiped away fallen tears as he contained to stare. You took a couple deep breaths before finally being able to speak, “it’s nothing...I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Al, and thats the problem.” Murphy put his arm around your shoulder, “who’s ass do I need to kick for this?”

His comment made you chuckle, “no one.” You wiped away more tears before smiling into his hug. “I just feel so tired always pretending, you know? And I don’t know how to make it right. I just feel broken.”

Murphy brushed a strand of hair out of your face, you could see the look of concern on his face. “What do you mean by broken?”

“I just-” You struggled to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I look at girls John.”

“So?” He scoffed, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.

“No I mean I look at girls. I look at them the same way I should look at boys...” Pausing you thought about your next choice of words, “I like girls.”

Murphy placed a soft kiss to your cheek he had been stroking a moment previously. “Yeah girls are pretty hot.”

You smiled into his embrace. John was the only person you had worried about treating you differently when you realised that you had started to get crushed on girls, but the truth was he didn’t care. And you’d never been so grateful he was your friend.

You woke to the sounds of a woman yelling, “I need a saline and a pressure dressing. I’m going to need to check her hip bones in a moment.”

“I’m on it.”

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the room. Doctor Griffin was leaning over you, she smiled when she noticed you waking up. “You gave us quite a scare, I’m glad to see you awake Y/N.”

“Where am I?” You asked groggily.

“Camp Jaha,” another voice said.

Facing the doorway you could see Octavia smiling as walked towards you, with her arms stretching out. She pulled you into a tight hug. “You had me so worried Al! I thought you had died.”

You held onto her tightly, “me? I thought the blast from the rocket had got you.” Pulling back from the hug you whined at the sharp pain in your arm. “Oh Jesus, I did forget about the pain.”

“Careful, you’ll end up pulling your IV out.” Jackson said, before explaining he needed to dress a deeper cut on your back. You nodded for him to start and don’t your best not to cry as the feeling of nippiness started to spread across your bare skin.

Octavia squeezed your hand. “Clarke told us what happened. The mountain men...how they are taking bone marrow and blood from us and grounders, from you.”

“Some of our people are still in there.” You paused for a moment to try and think about what else happened, “Anya is dead. She was going to set up a meeting with us and her commander, but she’s gone.”

Octavia kneeled down to your level. “Hey, we still have a chance.” She squeezed your hands again, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come in and see you. I know Murphy will be thrilled when he knows you are awake.”

“Murphy?” You asked confused, after hanging Bellamy and shooting Raven you thought he would have been banished again. God, Raven. “Murphy is still in camp? And Raven’s alive?”

“He sure is, and Raven is alive and waiting to see you.” Once Jackson was finished Octavia leaned in closer to you, “I’m glad I caught you before I left.”

“Where are you going?”

Octavia watched to make sure nobody else was paying attention to your conversation. “Raven is turning the electric fence off so me Bellamy, and Clarke can leave-” she stopped talking when Abby walked back into the room. “Murphy and Finn are actually out looking for our people now.”

You played along so Abby wouldn’t grow suspicious. Octavia shared a knowing look with you, the thought of her going out into the wild scared but you knew Bellamy would keep her safe. You mouthed ‘be careful’ before she left.

“So,” Abby said, stepping in front of you with a smile. “We are going to look at your hip once Jackson is back, I’ll need to check for any signs of infection. I’m honestly surprised you managed to walk that far considering what was done to you.”

“Clarke helped,” you shrugged. A look of pride spread across the older woman's face. Clarke wasn’t your favourite person but she did save you from drowning, “Anya also helped. She saved me and Clarke a couple of times...what they are doing to the grounders is worse than what’s happening to us, to me. It’s barbaric.”

Abby gave you a sympathetic smile as Jackson entered the room. You dropped the subject and leaned back into the table.

—

Groaning you sat up, your original plan was to go look for your friends but between the pain and sleep deprivation you had nodded off. Sighing you looked around the room for your clothes but couldn’t see them. The gown you were wearing wasn’t exactly practical.

Opening the door to the hallway you looked around for anybody that could help but it was empty. Hearing footsteps you decided to walk in that direction when you heard Abby’s voice.

“Did you know about this?”

“No.”

You recognised the other voice instantly and smiled. It was Raven.

“Tell me where they went and you won't be in trouble.” The aggression in Abby's voice surprised you, she had always been so nice when you had previously met her.

“Abby, I...”

“Someone let them through the fence. Someone gave them guns.”

Oh shit. It’s finally clicked, Abby knows Raven helped her daughter and the others escape. You walked as fast your body allowed you to before finding the door to the room they were in. You caught your breath before opening the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

You let out a gasp as you opened the door and saw Abby slapping Raven across the face. What the fuck. Abby stepped back from the brunette, “She thinks that because of what she's been through she's changed, but she's still just a kid.”

“You’re wrong, Abby. She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die.”

Abby finally noticed you standing at the doorway and cleared her throat before giving you a fake smile, she obviously didn’t think you had seen. “Y/N, how are you holding up?”

As she spoke Raven turned around to face you, and you could see the red mark on her cheek. It took everything inside you not to curse the doctor out for hurting Raven. “Uh,” you knew from the look your friend was giving you she didn’t want you to say anything. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”

“Oh of course,” Abby clasped her hands together. “Octavia took them earlier and I’m afraid she didn’t tell me where they were placed, and she’s busy at the moment. I can-”

“I have spare clothes Alba can wear until we find hers,” Raven said quietly.

Abby nodded and exited the room, once you were alone you pulled Raven into a hug. You were afraid to say anything knowing that your voice would break. You were concentrating so hard on not crying that you didn’t notice the leg brace Raven had on until you stepped back.

Raven gave you a soft smile before, “I thought you were goner Al.”

“Likewise,” you moved to get a better look at her cheek. “I can’t believe she hit you.”

“It’s fine Alba, I don’t care about it. What I care about is your back.”

For the first time since being taken by the mountain men you didn’t feel that everything was doomed, knowing that two of your friends were safe was enough to bring a little bit of light back into the darkness.

“Come on, let’s get you out of that horrendous gown.”

—

“I can’t believe you are staying in a tent, they should have found you a room inside. If not because of your leg then at least because of all the work you do for them.”

Raven laughed at the comment as she handed you clothes. You ripped the gown off and happily threw it to the ground and shimmed into a pair of dark jeans and pulled on a clean top. Opening your mouth to thank Raven again you noticed the way she was staring down at her leg. You sat down on the bed next to her, “Reyes?”

You could see her lip trembling as she glanced up, “I have nerve damage from the gunshot.”

“I’m so sorry Raven, I swear I’m going to kill Murphy when I get my hands on him.” It still didn’t feel real to me that Murphy was capable of hurting someone that much. “Whatever you need I’ll be at your beck and call.”

“Careful you might regret saying that one day,” she chuckled. Raven’s smile faded when she focused at your waist, the brunette placed her hand by your bruised hip. You hadn’t noticed the top was ruffled up at one side, her fingers lightly rubbed against the top of your bruise. “What happened Al?”

You shrugged, “It’s a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is injecting you with coagulant, Anya tried to kill us, then we blasted off.”

“Then the mountain men came.”

“Yeah they came and took most of us. I’m glad I got out but I still feel guilty for not trying to convince others to leave with us.”

Raven gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that Al, don’t punish yourself for the pain somebody else has caused.”

You were lost for words, Raven made basic sentences sound so poetic.

“What-what did they do to you in Mount weather?”

“I remember a horrible drilling noise, then waking up to a man called Dante Wallace leaning over me. He told me some bullshit then I escaped with Clarke shortly after.”

Raven looked unimpressed, “that’s it? I want to know everything that happened.”

Nodding you began explaining the full story of how you escaped, you tried your best not to laugh as Raven’s facial expressions that kept changing. She seemed particularly interested in how you got every deep cut and bruise. “I hope Clarke manages to convince the commander to agree to a truce.”

“I hope so.” You shuffled further back onto the bed so you could lie down. Raven gave you an amused look as you made yourself more comfortable, then It dawned on you that this wasn’t your tent. “Fancy having a roommate Reyes? At least until I get my own tent.”

She grinned before laying down next to you on the small bed, “I think that could work.”

There were still so many things you wanted to discuss with Raven but it wasn’t the right time. It was still daylight outside but you were both exhausted. You couldn’t stop yawning, and could tell how strained your friend was. Raven had heavy bags underneath her eyes most likely caused by stress of her leg injury. You wished more than anything you could take that pain away from her. Her ‘get on with it’ attitude amazed you considering the situation she was in.

Even if it was impossible for you to physically take her pain away, you could always try and distract her. “Reyes?”

“Hmm?”

“What's it like to spacewalk?”

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Reggie//i can't let you go now that i got it

Request: your last reggie mantle imagine was soooooo cute it was.... BIG FAV i'm still grinning! could you please do one where reader and reggie have been best friends their whole lives? she's super protective and sweet to him and like? she's been in love for years but has been hiding it well?? she gets him to come away with her to college because 'screw this town' and they live together? but eventually she starts going on dates and it makes him realize he's in love with her too?? mutual love confession

hey! so before you go any further trigger warning mentions of abuse, specifically around reggie and his dad. it’s not in detail but it is mentioned a few times so don’t read if that upsets you. the last thing i want you to be is sad. i hope you all have a good day anyway, whether you’re reading this or not! (title is from Børns ‘electric love’)

- For 18 years 

- Reggie Mantle has been the only constant in your life 

- Even when you were babies he was there 

- Your mom’s sat beside each other in baby class, cooing and awing over each other’s kids

- All while 6 month old you stole 6 month old Reggie’s toy

- And then he cried so hard he vomited on not only himself but you as well 

- Which then made you cry even louder 

- And then your mom’s were asked to leave 

- So instead

- It became a weekly thing for your mom to take you to The Mantle’s 

- While her and Mrs Mantle gossiped and drank tea 

- You and Reggie would hit each other with various stuffed toys. 

- As you got older 

- The weekly visits turned into daily ones 

- Especially when you moved three houses away from him

- You and Reggie started to see each other more than your own parents did

- Your mom still went over once a week

- But when she arrived you were always usually there

- Either stood in the kitchen getting a snack 

- Or lying on Reggie’s bed watching an awful movie he just ‘had to show you’ 

- They usually involved a hybrid of two animals

- Sometimes mythical, sometimes not 

- But in all of them they were usually taking over the world

- They also always had the same four actors in

- But despite how much you protested 

- ‘reggie? are you being serious? we watched this one last time.’ 

- ‘no, we watched molemaid last time. this is medusamaid. they’re completely different’ 

- ‘oh, sorry. my mistake’

- You actually secretly loved them 

- Because they made him happy

- You would watch in awe as he laughed at stupid jokes 

- And how his eyes would always light up at a particularly gruesome part, no matter how badly CGI’d it was

- You also listened to the countless of theories as to how ‘hurrik9’ is clearly the prequel to ‘hellhounds’ because ‘they’ve got the same main character! it doesn’t matter if they’re not played by the same person. y/n, they’ve got the same name.’ 

- You also listened to him complain about the inconsistencies between ‘werewombats 1’ and ‘werewombats 2’

- ‘no matter how much the director stands by the decision to make them turn on each other, despite the first film clearly stating that that’s the last thing they’d do.’ 

- But the thing you loved the most about it 

- Was that he was only ever this way with you

- You’d been sworn to secrecy when you walked in on him watching ‘dinocano vs uniquake’ 

- And you promised never to tell anyone about his secret passion

- Or the fact that he had a stack of notebooks filled with plots and mini scripts for his own films. 

- Reggie may have gotten popular

- But to you, he’s still the same Reggie you’ve always known.

- Whose scared of clowns but won’t admit it

- And cried when watching Edward Scissorhands but if anybody asks it was you

- And who hates hot chocolate, but its the only thing he’ll drink when he’s sick 

- He also only eats pink marshmallows in months ending in R

- And white ones every other month 

- But in December he has both...because its Christmas.

- Yeah, you and Reggie are best friends 

- Always have been, always will

- But it doesn’t stop you from wanting more.

- It doesn’t stop the longing looks when you think no one is watching 

- Or the lingering touches whenever he hugs you

- It doesn’t stop your heartbeat picking up whenever he walks into a room

- Or how you forget how to breathe whenever he looks at you

- You look forward to everyday, even if you have a pop quiz or homework you only remembered the night before

- Because he’s going to be there to make you smile

- Even if he isn’t doing it on purpose 

- You look forward to the countless of texts he sends

- No matter how weird or ridiculous 

- Like when he text you at half three in the morning to ask if birds were real because somebody told him they weren’t.

- You then got a text straight afterwards telling you that it would be great idea for a plot

- And you still answer every single one

- No matter how stupid they are 

- It’s really a wonder how you get any sleep with your phone being on loud all the time

- But it’s worth it

- Especially when you get texts like 

- ‘he’s done it again’ 

- Reggie’s relationship with his father complicated to say the least

- You remember when you were younger they used to be best friends 

- Reggie idolized him 

- And you’d have conversations in Reggie’s tree house, about how much he wanted to be just like his dad when he grew up

- But when he did grow up

- And started to develop a personality that didn’t just revolve around football 

- Reggie no longer wanted to be just like his dad 

- He wanted to be the furthest thing from him

- The first time it happened 

- Reggie tried his hardest to hide it from you 

- And for the first time in 8 years 

- You went two days without seeing each other 

- On the third day though 

- You’d had enough 

- So you went round to see him 

- But when you asked his mom if he was in 

- She lied and told you he had just gone out 

- Even though you could clearly see him trying and failing to hide on the stairs

- So you did what any normal friend would do 

- You climbed through his bedroom window 

- With about as much grace and steal as you could muster 

- Which surprisingly, wasn’t a lot

- And you gave him the fright of his life 

- ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ 

- ‘you’re avoiding me’ 

- ‘i’m not. i’ve just been...busy’ 

- ‘doing what? fighting?’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘your eye’ 

- ‘oh yeah...that’ 

- That was when you knew something was wrong 

- You’ve known Reggie your entire laugh 

- And you know the three things he’ll always boast about 

- Girls, football and fighting 

- ‘what happened?’ 

- When he told you 

- You couldn’t believe what he was saying 

- You wanted to find Marty Mantle and give him a black eye...see how he likes it 

- But Reggie begged you not to do or say anything 

- ‘it’ll only make it worse’ 

- ‘but its wrong. he should be locked up’

- ‘who’s going to believe me?’ 

- ‘me’ 

- ‘see...it was only one time anyway’ 

- So you agreed, reluctantly 

- And you so wanted to believe it

- But then a few weeks later he turned up to school with a bust lip

- A month after that another bruise around his eye that he tried to hide behind sunglasses 

- And by the time graduation rolled around 

- Both of you had lost count of the sunglasses and excuses 

- For three years he’d been trapped in a house with a father who thought hitting was the same as love 

- And a mother who pretended it didn’t happen 

- But now college was round the corner and that meant a chance for both of you

- Or at least thats what you thought

- ‘you didn’t get in?’ 

- ‘i didn’t get in.’ 

- ‘to any of them?’ 

- ‘nope’

- ‘reggi-’

- ‘it’s fine. my dad has always wanted me to work for him. i guess this will make him happy. even if i am the cleaner’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please go’

- That summer was the longest one of your life 

- It was even longer that the time Reggie had to get his appendix out and so you couldn’t hang out for a 3 weeks.

- For two and a half months 

- You heard nothing from Reggie 

- You text, called, DM’d and even E-mailed

- But you got nothing 

- You went round at all times of the day to try and talk to him

- And every time Mrs Mantle answered and told you he was either out or busy

- Doing homework was her favourite excuse

- And Reggie has only ever done homework when you were doing the majority of it 

- You even tried climbing in through his window again 

- But he locked it 

- So you watched every morning as he dragged himself into his dad’s car

- Wearing a stiff suit and a miserable expression 

- No matter how hard you tried to get to him before the left 

- How fast you ran or how early you got to his house

- They were always long gone before you managed to get anywhere close to him

- You missed the midnight texts about nothing 

- You missed his stupid jokes 

- You missed watching an entire room light up whenever he walked in

- You missed the way he made you feel, even if he was unaware of it 

- You even missed watching his god-awful movies 

- You just missed him 

- And when he missed your leaving party 

- That was the final straw

- At 7am the next morning 

- You shoved the last of your boxes in the back of your car 

- Said goodbye to your parents 

- And drove away

- Three houses down the street 

- Making sure your parents had gone back inside before stopping 

- You sat outside for a few minutes 

- Trying to think of what to do or say 

- You knew his mom would answer the door

- And that you’d get the same excuses 

- You also knew from the past few experiences that his window would still be locked 

- So you threw rocks at his bedroom window in the hopes that when he’d check to see what it was, he’d leave it unlocked 

- And he did! 

- You watched from behind a bush as he hung his head out the window to look around

- His brow furrowed and hair messy

- Clearly he’d just woke up

- You couldn’t help the smile twitching at your lips 

- You’d missed that face 

- Climbing the window was a lot harder than it used to be 

- Mr Mantle had taken the ladders away 

- Another reason as to why he sucked

- But you managed eventually 

- And you almost died only twice 

- Which is good 

- It’s better than three 

- You landed on the carpet with a loud thud that made him jump half way across the room

- ‘y/n. what the hell are you doing here?’

- ‘it’s moving day. and i must say i’m very disappointed at the lack of preparation on your part. have you even started packing yet?’

- ‘it’s not funny y/n’

- ‘i know. do you see me laughing?’

- ‘i’m being serious y/n. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘the last time you told me to leave, i listened and i didn’t see you for two months, so no’ 

- ‘what about college’ 

- ‘what about it?’ 

- ‘it starts in three days’ 

- ‘i know. and if we stand here any longer we’re going to miss it. so get packed and lets go. it’s a nine hour drive and i’m not doing all of that alone’ 

- ‘you know i can’t go’ 

- ‘says who?’ 

- ‘my dad, every single college i applied for and me’ 

- ‘listen to me reggie. you are my best friend, you have been since we were babies. there’s not a part of my life you haven’t been in. do you really think that would stop at college?’ 

- ‘we didn’t spend the summer together’ 

- ‘and it was the worst summer of my life’ 

- ‘same...but that might have been because i was spending 12 hours a day in an office’ 

- ‘rude. but i’ll take it!’ 

- ‘i did miss you though. it was weird not seeing your face everyday’ 

- That makes your cheeks heat up and you have to force the flutter in your chest to go away

- ‘it always cheers me up’ 

- There it goes again and you want to claw at your chest until it’s no longer there 

- Hope is a terrible thing to have when you’ve been in love with your best friend for your entire life

- ‘you always cheer me up’ 

- Oh dear...

- ‘i love you...a-as a friend. this summer has been the longest and most depressing for both of us. i don’t want to live the rest of my life like that. i need you reggie. so please pack your bags, say screw you to your dad and to this town and lets go’ 

- ‘what about money? where am i going to live?’ 

- ‘we’ll figure that out on the way there. just hurry up’ 

- And he did 

- You and Reggie threw the majority of his belongings into any bag you could find

- He took all the money he’d been saving out of the poorly disguised fake plant

- And wrote a nice little note for his parents 

- You also may have added a few choice words to it 

- But what Reggie doesn’t know won’t hurt him 

- And the two of you climbed into your car and never looked back

- The 9 hour car ride was the most fun you’ve ever had 

- It was like you were trying to fit the entire summer you’d lost into those few hours 

- It was filled with off key singing 

- And stories of your summer 

- His favourite being about Archie being tricked into going skinny dipping by himself

- You laughed loudly like nothing had happened 

- And cried silently because everything had 

- Thankfully when you arrived on campus, it was already night 

- So you managed to sneak Reggie into your room

- And when you nervously told your roommate 

- She just grinned at you

- ‘it’s fine, my boyfriend will probably be staying over a lot too’ 

- ‘oh, he’s not my boyfriend’ 

- ‘we’re not together’ 

- ‘...okay’ 

- She said with a knowing smile and you and Reggie shared a look

- And a year filled with adventures started

- Reggie got a job as a bartender with a little help from Veronica 

- And you started your classes 

- But nothing is ever easy 

- At least not when it involves you or Reggie 

- It turns out hiding a whole human is a lot more difficult that you anticipated. 

- It involves Reggie squeezing into your closet 

- And a whole team of people to get him to and from the showers 

- But it was also difficult for another reason

- Because it was easy to hide your feelings from him when you lived in separate house 

- But now you’re sharing a room

- And a bed 

- And every time he would wrap his arms around you 

- And pull in for a half asleep cuddle 

- You’d forget how to breathe 

- You’ve never been more excited to wake up

- Because he’d be all messy hair and parted lips with just a little bit of drool coming out of them that it would be cute instead of gross 

- And when he said good morning in the same deep, tired voice 

- You wanted to live in that feeling forever 

- But then 2nd year rolled around and everything changed 

- It all started when you moved into your own apartment 

- You knew you had to but there was a part of you that hoped you could keep everything the same 

- You found a tiny, two bedroom flat that you could both just about afford 

- Reggie was so happy to have his own room

- ‘i won’t have to sleep next to you and your freezing cold feet anymore’ 

- ‘i’ll just sneak into your bed when your fast asleep and put them on you then instead’ 

- ‘i thought we were supposed to be friends’ 

- It took a few weeks to get used to an empty bed 

- But eventually you started to sleep properly 

- And it was quite nice to have your own space again

- It meant you could study without having to listen to ‘nighthawk nightmare’ 

- Honestly, you don’t really know what the plot of that one is 

- But you’ve still seen it 7 times 

- You may be in love with him but it doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying sometimes 

- And you were happy with going back to admiring from afar

- Your heart can’t get broken that way

- In fact a small part of you thought he felt the same way 

- That one glimmer of hope you felt a year ago

- Came back all of sudden 

- And soon 

- You became aware of the lingering touches 

- And the gifts he’d buy you just because 

- He also asked what you wanted to watch for your movie night 

- And he’s never, ever done that unless you were sad or sick

- And even then, when you broke your arm a few years ago, he chose the film

- The way he looked at you suddenly felt different 

- You would feel him staring, but when you would check he would always be scrolling through his phone 

- And you’re sure the was a little bit of flirtiness in his tone whenever he spoke to you 

- But just because you think you can’t be burnt if you stand far enough away from the fire 

- Doesn’t mean that the sparks can’t jump out and get you anyway 

- Because all of sudden Reggie started bringing girls home 

- And every time you saw a t-shirt that wasn’t yours on the sofa 

- Or a pair of shoes discarded by the door

- You felt yourself die a little

- After a few weeks of this 

- Something in you snapped

- You’d spent the majority of your life pining after some boy who saw you as nothing more than a friend 

- And sometimes a small part of you thought as just an escape route

- So you moped for a few weeks before deciding it was finally time to move on

- Reggie would only ever see you as a friend 

- And that’s fine 

- The only way to move on, is to move on. 

- So you waited for the right guy to move on with 

- And there were a few 

- But none of them were right 

- Until you met Daniel 

- Sweet Daniel with curly brown hair and dimples

- Who studied history 

- And spent his days sitting in the coffee shop on campus

- For a few weeks the two of you spent your short interactions stealing glances and exchanging shy smiles 

- That evolved to small talk with flirty undertones

- Until finally he asked you out 

- And you said yes 

- And you kept saying yes to each date afterwards 

- They were fun too

- He’d take you to museum's and on picnics and at night he’d pick you up and you’d go star gazing 

- He would make you laugh when he’d tell you a joke 

- And make you blush when he’s whisper in your ear while staring up at the sky 

- But he wasn’t him

- And that killed you

- It doesn’t matter how many time he takes you to watch some unknown indie film thats supposed to be the greatest thing ever made

- It has nothing on standing outside the only cinema in town that’s showing ‘sharkcano vs tigerana’ in the freezing cold with Reggie wearing an absolutely ridiculous costumes that Reggie threw together last minute and somehow roped you into wearing too.

- But what hurt even more was watching how Reggie acted around you when you and Daniel started dating 

- He looked hurt whenever he saw the two of you together 

- And you would watch him roll his eyes whenever you mentioned him 

- Until eventually he would just avoid you all together 

- Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone when you’re living in the same 2 bedroom flat that barely gives two foot to yourself? 

- It’s hard 

- But Reggie finds a way 

- Eventually you’re more roommates than friends 

- And you really don’t know how much more you can take 

- You feel like you’re about to break 

- And Daniel can see that too

- So on Friday night he invites you to go drinking with him and his friends instead of staying in and moping 

- ‘bye, i’m going out’ 

- ‘wait’ 

- The speed of which he runs from his room and into the living room where your stood, startles you to say the least 

- ‘what?’

- ‘don’t go out with him.’ 

- ‘why not? what ever george has told you about is a lie. george does that. he once told a bunch of people that you streaked in an old people’s home and almost killed his grandmother’ 

- ‘because he isn’t me’ 

- You’ve dreamt of those words 

- Built them up in your head for years 

- But in all of your daydreams, there’s never been a scenario like this one 

- Not one where you’re about to leave to go on a date with another guy 

- ‘reggie? what are you talking about?’ 

- You need to make sure he’s saying what you think he’s saying 

- Because you can feel yourself hoping again

- And you know if he doesn’t mean what you want him to

- You don’t think you’ll be able to recover

- ‘i love you y/n. you’re my best friend, you always have been, you always will be and i love you.’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please tell me you feel the same way’ 

- ‘i-’ 

- In your head you had a full oscar worthy speech planned out just in case this ever happened 

- But now you’re here in the moment. 

- You have no idea what to say

- ‘it doesn’t matter. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’ 

- ‘do you really think i’m going to walk away from you after that? when have i ever walked away from you?’ 

- ‘i-no’

- ‘i love you too by the way. if you care’ 

- ‘shut up...wait really?’ 

- ‘yes i do. i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember so are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?’ 

- ‘i’m definitely going to kiss you’ 

- ‘good’ 

- And he does 

- He’s standing in front of you before you can catch your breath

- His hands reach up to cup your cheeks 

- His lips part as he stares down at you 

- And you’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at you

- Like you’re everything good and light in the universe 

- And like he’s also been waiting just as long for this moment 

- Maybe he has 

- Maybe he’s been waiting all his life for this 

- He just didn’t know 

- You feel whatever breath you had left leave your lungs

- His lips are soft against yours, but he gets his point across 

- And you’ve never been happier 

- All the heartache and tears 

- The laughter and stupid jokes 

- The 3am texts 

- The constant worrying 

- The early mornings and late nights 

- The damage to limbs from trying to fit in tiny closets

- And the scrapes on your ankles and bruising on your legs from crawling through his bedroom window 

- They’re all worth it

- ‘are you still going on your date?’ 

- ‘what do you think?’ 

- ‘good. because they’ve just released werewombats 3’

[omniscientwreck]

To Belong

Alright here’s some hurt/comfort as requested. Canon divergence where Caleb wasn’t able to dispel Gaudius’ hold on Essek. 

One of Lucien’s many eyes looks toward him and everything slows. Warmth seeps in through his pores, sinking in through skin going straight to his head. He hears their call and for a moment he resists but, why would he? 

He’s never belonged. He didn’t belong in Roshona, surrounded by religious zealots blinded by the comfort that comes with trust. Incurious, simple minded fools. He didn’t even belong with the Nein, not really. None of them trust him, he’s been eclipsed by his sins and nothing can break through to them. 

He needs a blank slate, if he is to belong anywhere he has to be able to start over completely. That is what Gaudius offers, a new beginning, no judgement, no proving himself. He doesn’t have to work for their acceptance and love fills his heart. The Somnovum will take him as he is and there’s never anything he’s wanted more.

Everything is clearer now, these people were never in it for him. He drags his hands, beginning to pull at the strands of gravity as Lucien fills his mind with the power he can achieve once he’s one with them. When he joins the city.

The human lifts his hand to cast at him and without even thinking he waves his hand to counter the spell. “Essek no!” The blue tiefling looks horrified, feigning care even now. 

He curls his fingers in, pooling gravity and thrusts his hands forward, centering the darkness on the wizard who’s toyed with him for nearly a year. The effect isn’t immediate but it will pay off, he’s sure and those caught inside, the humans, the clerics, the angel, the halfling will feel it’s effects soon enough. 

The firbolg is the first. He hasn’t taken much damage but this seems to get to him. As Essek’s fingers clench he crumples like paper and Essek squeezes before releasing. He flies as far as he can but it isn’t far enough. More will come. 

Up next, he feels the thief resisting, she’s strong and muscles through but it’s not pretty. Her form stretches briefly as he pulls and stretches with two hands before snapping back into place and he’s sure she cries for the wizard who cannot hear or see her. Something twinges in the back of his mind but Lucien calls out again and he remembers the family waiting for him. 

The monk tries to appeal to him through her newfound abilities, she seems to be able to see through the darkness. She tries her hardest to reach some part of him still foolish enough to turn away from happiness and towards them, he hardly listens. She moves to run out of his grasp but just before she can make it he grabs hold and twists. Her body contorts and he can almost feel her crumble away, but she gains control and she just barely breaks out of his grasp. 

He feels Caleb try to resist but his efforts just aren’t enough. He looks Essek directly in the eyes, and he hears whispers of the wizard’s voice try to get through to him, “You must break free, we need more time”. Essek’s face stretches into a wicked grin at this obvious manipulation tactic (I will show you belonging the way he couldn’t bear to) as he twists his wrist and pulls down, compressing the body in front of him. The wizard nearly leaves his influence but he’ll have another chance to take him down. 

The angel didn’t stand a chance. She can’t resist the pull of his gravity and even if she could scream the monk’s name she wouldn’t be able to see her or save her. As he finishes with her his mind drifts back to memory, spurred by the wizard’s sweet words. We need more time. It will take time. You were not born with venom in your veins. Something snaps in the back of his mind and the Nonagon’s whispers turn to acid in his mind. He can see properly, he drops the spell and turns to Lucien, screaming as he turns on the beast with nine eyes, unleashing a torrent of inky black lightning, hitting him square in the chest. 

-------

The battle is over and by some strange grace they’re all alive. The Nein are both celebrating and consoling each other. In the end they appealed to Molly and, for the second time, he was his own undoing. 

It feels like intruding to be there, he who has done another irrevocable deed. He would leave immediately if he still had the energy but that effort is insurmountable. Caduceus had gotten them back to their own plane and they’re resting in an open field, surrounded by Caleb’s alarm spell, taking turns at watch. None of them are quite ready to be around their loved ones quite yet, needing one more night together as a family before dealing with the gravity of what they’ve accomplished. 

Fjord holds Jester, keeping an eye on the horizon and whispering comfort as she silently cries into his shoulder. Beau and Yasha are curled together trying to sleep, Caleb has Frumpkin around his shoulders and Veth is curled into his side, Caduceus’ legs overlapping with Fjord’s in the tight space. There’s hardly room for Essek to sit in this small circle of sombre camaraderie, and the emotions of his travelling companions are simply too much for him so he stands to put some distance between them. Just for a moment. Just so he doesn’t have to look them in the eyes.

He stands, knees cracking and makes his way out to he open field. Nobody seems disturbed, none of them react and nobody calls after him. In the night air he’s met with stars and silence, the night sky used to comfort him. Now it’s a void he could be swallowed in and with the way he feels right now, he wishes it would. 

His hair is coated with somebody’s blood, his body is battered and bruised and his spirit is shattered. They’d taken him along to help, they’d allowed him such an important opportunity to redeem himself and he’d nearly killed them. He’d made it far easier for Lucien to knock them down, luckily Caduceus and Jester had been focused and able to heal quickly enough. He’d ended up being a burden and once again a traitor. 

“Essek.” He hears his name, a warning so he isn’t startled. Caleb’s voice drifts on the breeze, “Are you alright?” 

He sighs, letting his head fall and squeezing his eyes shut. “No.”

“Let’s sit.” 

He obliges, silent, waiting for Caleb to set the tone. 

“You need to know we do not blame you for what happened. Yasha turned too, these things are not our fault.” 

He can’t bare to look over but he does anyway. Caleb’s eyes shine with worry, furrowed brow pulling creases into his forehead. “It could have turned out so badly Caleb. That magic, it’s made to kill. You are all very lucky for your ability to escape and my comparative lack of experience in battle. I could have turned you to dust.” 

Caleb sighs, “Guilt over hypotheticals is a waste of your time and energy. You could have, but you didn’t. We’re all still here, and we wouldn’t be without you. Don’t let yourself fall into the trap of comfortable self-loathing, you’ll waste years.” 

“You couldn’t understand Caleb, I was convinced. I didn’t even want to resist. It was only-” he pauses on the brink of the confession and decides to throw caution to the wind, “It was only you that brought me back. My mind wasn’t my own, I was imprisoned and lied to and I was stupid enough to believe it.” 

“I understand more than you know.” He looks instantly older, Essek has frequently wondered what Trent had done to Caleb to take such a bright and excellent man with so much kindness in his heart, and turn him hard. “I have been deceived, lied to, it lead to my worst moments. I’ve told you we are not so different and it’s clearer now more than ever. If there is redemption for me, as I’ve been assured many times there will be, you will find yours.” 

Essek shakes his head, “It would have been nobler for me to die for the world than to continue this pathetic existence. It would have been a just end, poetic and balanced. Now there’s so much unresolved I don’t know where to start or where to go.” 

Caleb’s hand covers his on the grass, “Well, we can start by researching, it’s what we do best. Everyone else has someone to go to, family to see, something to go back to. I only have forward momentum, more to learn and see. You could join me, we can go back to Aeor and see what comes.” 

Essek nods, “I do not deserve that but because I am a selfish creature I accept your offer.” 

Caleb squeezes his hand and he looks up again, into his eyes, “It does not matter what you think you deserve. You are not the decider of what I offer you.” He has a fierce look about him, he may have hit a nerve, “Trust that I know what I want and when I say I want you with me it’s not out of pity or some savior complex. Let me offer you this and quell any self-pity or doubt. I’m not obligated to like you or want to be around you, but I do because I like you Essek. I think it should be plain by now that I like you a great deal and I hope that you will come along with me, to see where this leads us.” 

Despite himself, Essek turns his hand over under Caleb’s and tentatively laces their fingers together. He’s seen him do similar things with the Nein and when Caleb doesn’t flinch he relaxes a bit. “I will trust you in this. I am also quite fond of you. Thank-you, for your words. For your trust. One day I hope to feel worthy of such a gift.” 

Caleb squeezes his hand and leads him back to the tent where they sit side by side wordlessly before falling asleep, still holding hands.

[twisted-imagines]

Heyo! May I request headcanons for how Leona and Azul would react to their respective SO being unassumingly strong? Like they look like they possess average strength but they are able to carry a lot of heavy things (easily the dorm leaders) or hold their own in a physical fight. I hope this makes sense 😅😅😅

Unbelievable, I'm back! With a request, nonetheless💖 I wonder if you missed me, hehe? Man, did I miss you all and my precious boys~ It's shorter than usually and I got hit with a writer's block, but it'll try to pick up my pace from now on >:3

But for now, please, enjoy💗

Unassumingly strong S/O

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Rays of sunset gently caressing his face woke Leona up from his post-lunch nap. Still groggy from his sleep he rose up just to look at the clock. Almost evening, the last classes in college ended at least two hours ago. But that wasn't important to Leona. What really bothered him, was the absence of one customary part of his sleeping routine: your warm form beside his. To have you curled up into his side or just sitting near him telling about your day always made his dreams more pleasant and now that he got used to it, not having you beside him rubbed him the wrong way. You should have already been there, so where were you? The lion didn't want to think about the worst, but only the most alarming conclusions came to his mind. The bed shifted beneath him when he got up, but before he could even take a step a loud stomping resonating in the hallway drew his attention. Ruggie was at his doorstep, disheveled, and clearly agitated.

"Leona-san! You need to see this, come. Quick!"

Leona could finally let out the breath he took when Ruggie rushed him out of his room and to the common room. Several students were running to-and-fro around the other three beat-up Savanaclaw residents. The dorm leader stopped at the door, relieved to not had seen you there. And why would you be there, though? Nonsense. But it was really the only thing he was worried about since the sight before him was all too common for Leona at that point. He was about to turn to Ruggie and ask what all that fuss was about until a conversation between couch occupant and the students treating him reached his ears.

"Ouch! That hurts, man! Ugh, if not that piece of-!"

"Don't even think about ending that sentence. You're lucky that it wasn't the dorm leader who got his hands on you."

"Yes, dumbass, can you even imagine what would have happened to you three if he found out you fought his mate- Wha? Huh?! Leona-san? Since when did you-"

Leona crossed the room in a few powerful strides only to pick the unfortunate student by his collar. An unbridled fury grimaced his face.

"What's about [Y/n]? Tell me, your puny life depends on it!“

"Nishishishi, what can he even tell? That he and his thick-headed friends got completely obliterated by a single, small human?"

"Listen, I'm very sorry about it, but it was just self-defense!"

Leona dropped the scared, shaking from fear student to the floor in favor of rushing to your self, who too entered the room. He swiftly checked you for any injury and let out a relieved sigh. From what he could see you were completely fine, while those who harassed you were very much not, trembling and holding each other, bruised and humiliated. Kingscholar could only look bewildered at them, and then at you, at them, at you.

"Leona, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to hurt them so bad."

Your ramble became faster the more your boyfriend looked at you with a blank look, not even saying a word to you.

"...so if there's some disciplinary punishment or otherwise or will take it, I-"

A snicker interrupted your speech. You looked at the man before you stunned. Before you could utter even another word he erupted in a fit of roaring laughter, it resonating in a completely silent dorm.

• Ah, Leona can't genuinely remember when was the last time he laughed that hard. The whole situation is so amusing to him, there isn't't a boring day with you, is there?

• Of course, you'll face no punishment, vice versa, you'll be celebrated. His darling, his kitten, was actually a mighty carnivore all along. He's going to mark the day, when he finally found out about that.

• Never would he think, not a snowballs chance in hell, that you had any physical strength in you, but you managed to prove him wrong. Yes, he was very close to destroying poor souls who tried to harass you, but if not for them taunting you and being beat up in the process, he wouldn't have such a discovery to laugh at. They're getting away with it, a living example of why exactly one ought to not touch dorm leader's lover. They're not dining with everybody that evening though, no matter how much tasty food there is.

• He doesn't think a lot about this discovery at first, that's just another gimmick of yours and he loves it, he loves you, but does it turn his world upside down, both figuratively and literally, when you, fed up with him lazing around the greenhouse and trying to make you lie down with him, swing him over your shoulder and carry him out. His pupils are just two saucers. He hangs speechless from your shoulder and until he feels ground under his legs he doesn't register what happened.

• Congratulations, now you have Leona Kingscholar living in your arms. He'll just use you as a personal carriage and how can you deny him, when he's so cutely snuggling up to you. Oh, he knows what he does to you and isn't ashamed to take advantage of it.

• He's quite pleased to know that you can hold your own in a physical fight, even in a magical world they're still too common. He even starts to watch himself, especially when he thinks he went too far with his teasing since you do have a strength to turn it on him. Well, he doesn't really protest. A bit of roughhousing and a tickle fight never harmed anybody, it amuses Leona when you start them.

• He admires you more than anybody else at this point. You're badass and you know it, and he couldn't be more proud. He sleeps soundly, knowing that you can stand up for yourself if the situation calls for it. He still much prefers to have you safe in his arms, or vice versa, so don't leave him for longer, than you should.

• One time he just casually asked you, if you could wield any weapon with a very unsettling glint in his eyes. He told you that a lot of people in Afterglow Savannah were proficient in some war art, it was a very respected tradition, and some of the masters could teach you, if you visited his homeland with him. He left the question open, but sometimes you still wonder what did he actually mean?

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

Night Raven College was in a state of emergency. All students were to follow their seniors to a safe location, while teachers and student council were dealing with the threat. The reason for such a panic was a single creature. Highly dangerous at its full potential and untamable, college's Chimera was much less imposing than it's wild nature sisters, but still a difficult opponent for students at their Magic Defense classes. Apparently this time it decided to give a special lesson to everybody.

"The beast ran in that direction, don't let it get away once again, surround and subdue it!"

Azul's order rang in the hallway, spurring every present student to action. At the state of total disarray, the youth was the only one who reacted fast enough to rally his fellow students and direct them properly. But to say the hunt was going awfully is to say nothing. The students, so much for them being skilled at magic, had no idea of command work. Ashengrotto had already regretted sending Leech twins away with Octavinelle juniors, it would have ended so much faster if they were present. But alas, after running around the campus for more than half an hour, Azul could finally hope they would catch the damned beast at last.

"It's running away, catch it! Why are you standing still?"

"Can you not complain for five seconds, pretty boy? Want me to fix your make up with my fists for you?"

"The Chimera is resisting magical attacks, somebody please sacrifice yourself for the greater good. We need to neutralize it!"

No, they were hopeless. Azul could only observe the people he saw daily at college lose all respect he had for them in less than an hour. Azul was genuinely contemplating to just give up and let the teachers, who got lost halfway too somehow, handle it. At that point he wasn't even chasing it, disappointedly watching how it was running away into the sunset.

Until it suddenly didn't. Chimera crashed with a loud thud, falling to the floor completely motionless. And the one who was standing above it with a bright red crowbar was none other than you. Shocked, he slowly approached you and the unconscious animal.

"Um... [Name]?"

"Sup' Azul! You were late for our date so I returned to check up on you. This Chimera is so big! It's the first time I've seen it. Where should we carry it?"

"Yes, yes...You'll still meet it at your Magic Defense classes later the semester. To the classroom on the third floor, let me-"

Before Azul could lift it with magic you had already hoisted it on your shoulder and awaited for his lead.

Well, it was certainly a dream so he didn't have to freak out, right? His dear significant other couldn't possibly knock out a huge beast in one punch?

• Wrong. You did. You also had enough strength to carry it to its cage. You could do even more than that. The more Azul was coming to the understanding of it, the more he was freaking out. Until he completely stopped responding to you. The date had to be canceled, unfortunately. You led him to his dorm, while he was having an identity crisis.

• When he finally snaps out of his state you're so going to be bombarded with questions. They won't stop, and you're not even sure he addresses them to you. How did you hide it and why? Or was he just oblivious? But you look so demure, look at Jack for example and look at you! How?

"Well, I'm pretty soft, but here touch - there muscles underneath!"

He's now more lost than before, after making contact with your bare skin.

• It's going to take him time to come to terms with your actual strength. Lack of magic not equating to being powerless didn't register in his brain, and he thought it was actually very ignorant of him. He respected you before, but now he's in awe. His significant other is very strong and Azul thinks it's beautiful.

• When he has too much work and is stubborn about cramming it all into one day, even though he's already drooling on his notes and slips down his chair, you just lift him from his seat and parade through Monstro Lounge to his room with Azul blushing madly in your arms. Leech twins think it's the most hilarious thing they've ever seen. Azul is very embarrassed, but it also feels so good to be carried around by you, he feels the most special man in the world. He politely asks you to not handle him like that ever again, while he clings to you like a baby koala. It's obvious where he wants to be.

• He has a love-hate attitude to manhandling. It certainly feels exciting when you tug him on your lap if he's passing by, or envelop him in a hug if you're happy, but he's also quite shy about it, especially if there're people around you. Sometimes he wants just to find a pot big enough to hide.

• He likes your way of solving problems. You don't have to choose the best spells that would give you an advantage against a certain opponent, neither do you have to worry about things like mana and blot. You can only rely on yourself in a fight. He wheezed when you suggested, that Floyd wouldn't be a dangerous opponent to you since his unique magic wouldn't deflect a punch to the face. Floyd wasn't impressed with that logic, but he kept quiet.

• Azul is quite pacifistic, if he can mitigate the conflict and reach a consensus that would benefit every party, mostly him, he will try to avoid a fight. But when even he can't do this, you enter the picture. You know that those jerks are too arrogant and they should be prescribed a nice, educating blow to a face. Azul is mortified, when you escalate things, for he usually doesn't see such scenes, Floyd or even sometimes Jade leave them offstage. He quickly comes to his senses though and helps you out. Best believe you're going to get away with it, and even will be treated as a victim. Who in their right mind will think that you, of all people, can deal any serious damage to anybody?

• He feels a bit weird when you're the one carrying his shopping bags, or screwing the jars open, but he learns to roll with it, even starts to enjoy it. And his face when he sees you carrying a huge table all on your own, because he just so mentioned, that he didn't like how it stood in the Lounge? Priceless.

• No matter how much time passes he'll still react surprised when he sees you displaying your power, but it's also one of the qualities he loves about you. Azul treats your unusual strength as your special appeal and couldn't be more proud to be your lover.

• He's ecstatic that he can just casually mention to anybody picking on him, that "his significant other can and will snap you in half". Maybe you can, maybe you can not, but you just let him have his fun. The truth is that you will do your best at any given time to protect your boyfriend.

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2021 Day 4: Taken Hostage / Pushed / “Do you trust me?”

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Protective Jason Todd, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Jason is Robin Words: 7.826

Summary: “Batman will come for you, right?” Tim only realizes that is the wrong thing to ask when Robin’s face falls.

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin insists with a stubborn tension in his shoulders. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

But Tim agrees anyway. Why wouldn’t he? Robin is a hero. His hero. And he’s lucky they were kidnapped together. Now they only have to get out this cell in one piece.

---

The shove comes out of nowhere.

Tim has gotten good at navigating Gotham’s rooftops nearly blind, a camera pressed to his face. He has also learned to make sure nobody is around to catch him. What he does is not strictly illegal, but he is taking pictures of vigilantes at night and enough people take offence at that. He is not wearing a mask himself, but he still cannot be found out here. His parents are already not happy that he has not given up photography – a mere waste of time that will neither get him into a prestigious college nor bring the Drake name any profits – even without knowing about his nightly activities.

The roof was empty when Tim climbed up on it to get a better angle of Robin. It is a rare enough occurrence that Robin is out alone without the protective shadow of Batman hovering nearby and Tim does not want to miss a minute of it. So, he is crouching on the roof, his camera trained on Robin, when someone appears suddenly next to him and shoves him over the edge.

A sound escapes Tim’s lips, half a gasp due to the force of the unexpected push, and in the brief second he is hovering in the air, he can see Robin look up searchingly – and then he is falling.

Tim has a lot of experience with falling, but he will never get used to that navel-jerking feeling of tumbling into the unknown, those first moments of blind panic at having lost the ground beneath his feet. He clings to his camera, curls like he was taught to, and hopes fervently that he will not break anything. Bruises are easy to hide and something he has dealt with dozens of times before. Broken bones, however, need a bit more than his first-aid kit has to offer – and cause more questions than he cares to answer.

The falling is over as soon as it began. He was not too high up but the impact is still painful. The crack of plastic thunders in his ears and that is what throws his momentum, makes him tense too much as he tries to save his camera, and he feels his ankle bend.

Pain flares up, sudden and hot, before he comes to a panting halt on the pavement, a sharp throbbing in his foot and right side. He just lies there for a long moment, afraid to move his ankle but glad that his lungs still work as they are supposed to. The roof above him is empty. Nobody is looking down after him.

But – Tim did not just fall from nothing, did not trip. Somebody was there and pushed him. Just as he is sitting up, determined to have a look at his camera and then his foot before he gets out of here, he hears footsteps coming closes.

“Well, what do we have here?” a muffled voice asks.

Tim whirls around, but all he can see is a fist flying towards his face. And then nothing.

---

Tim comes to slowly. That in itself is a warning sign that something is wrong. He has a rather conflicted relationship with sleep and he does not slumber. Either he is awake or not. This in-between is strange, making his thoughts all sluggish.

He blinks, his vision curiously blurry, and wonders about the cracks in the ceiling – and then the pain hits. A low, insistent pounding like drum beats fills his head, growing worse with every breath he takes as if the miniscule movement alone is aggravating it.

With a rush, Tim remembers what happened. The rooftop. Being shoved. The cracking of his camera.

He shoots upright, battling the way the room spins before his vision settles. Bile rises in his throat but he swallows carefully, unwilling to give into the panic rising inside him. Perhaps his father’s lessons will have their use, after all.

His ankle throbs, but Tim ignores it for now in order to find out where he is, because this is somewhere inside instead of outside in the streets, and he definitely did not make it home.

The room is small and bare. Cracks run through the grey cement covering the ground and walls and ceiling. There is no window, but a lone light bulb dangles in the middle of the room, offering a bit of light. The ground is stained in places, the origin of which Tim does not want to think too closely about. No furniture, just a heavy metal door and Tim himself being cuddled into a corner.

This is bad. If his father finds out what he was doing, why someone managed to snatch him right off the street – he hopes this is not a play for ransom. His parents are out of the country and the last thing he and his father did before they left were yell at each other. Tim is not at all sure they are willing to pay a single dollar to get him back. And if so, likely only to preserve the family name.

Of course, Tim does not want to think about what other reasons there are for someone to kidnap him. Children go missing from Gotham’s streets every day, and only a few of them are found again. Mostly, they do not have anything to look for them. Tim does not, either.

The pounding in his head grows worse. With some effort, Tim pushes the growing panic down. Before he gives up on himself, he should try to find out more.

Carefully, Tim gets to his feet. The room starts spinning again, which is rather worrying, but it snaps into sudden focus when he puts some weight on his right ankle. A whimper breaks over his lips, echoing hauntingly in the empty room, as he sinks back to the ground.

Don’t be broken, he thinks as he pushes up the leg of his trousers. The ankle is swollen and the pain intensifies when he applies pressure. When he is careful, though, he can move it in every direction and he cannot feel any bones obviously out of place. That does not have to mean anything, he knows. Ever since he started following the masks around, he read up on first-aid, aware of how many things can go wrong. Hopefully it is just a sprain, although that does not make it any less painful, and it might still mess his leg up for good.

Before Tim can convince himself to get back up and try again, he hears a key being shoved in the lock and then the door is yanked open, making a terrible screeching noise that grates in his ears. The light outside is much brighter, stabbing Tim’s eyes so he cannot make out much of anything as he scrambles backwards, trying to get away from whoever has entered the room. Something big is thrown in and then the door slams shut again without explanation.

The something is a person clad in yellow and green and –

“Robin.” Tim’s voice breaks halfway through the name. His mouth is suddenly dry and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.

This has just become so much worse. Someone did not just push Tim off a roof just because they could or for ransom, but they got Robin, too. Either Robin wanted to help and was overpowered, or they were after him and Tim is just collateral damage. Either way, he is doomed. Because he is not hard to catch, crawling around the city at night to take pictures of vigilantes. But Robin is in an entirely different league.

Robin looks up at him, eyes wide behind the mask, then untangles himself into a more dignified position even though his suit remains rumpled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

Tim does not know what could possibly be good about that if this is the reality he woke up to.

“What happened?” he hates how weak he sounds, how young. His father would have his hide for that – but his father is not here because Tim had to do something forbidden and get himself caught. He breathes. In and out. In and out.  

Robin is here. That means not all is lost. If nothing else is certain, Tim knows that Batman will come for Robin and they will not leave him behind, even if they find out about the pictures. They are the good guys. They might tell his parents about it – which will undoubtedly not end well for him either – but they will not leave him to die in this place.

“These assholes want me to help them out.” Robin makes a rude gesture at the door, then looks a bit sheepish at Tim. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

A weight drops off Tim’s shoulders. It is not his fault that Robin was caught. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it does not sit right with him, still.

“They went after me first,” Tim says, remembering clearly that Robin was still free and unbothered while Tim was already falling. He might have even gotten it on camera, that last, searching look around at Tim’s yell. But his camera is not here. They might have left it broken on the ground when they took Tim. It is unlikely he will ever see it again.

It is stupid to be bothered by that. It is only a camera and he can afford to buy a new one. But it is the one thing that brings him joy.

“Yeah.” Robin runs a hand through his hair, putting it into complete disarray. “You’re supposed to be my motivation.”

Oh. “They took me hostage to make you help them?” Tim is no stranger to being pulled into other people’s games. His parents’ business partners do that all the time, either hoping to gain something for the company or to get some advantage over his parents. It is almost familiar, to be used for his worth to other people instead on his own merit.

“Seems like it,” Robin says and sounds apologetic. He is also watching Tim very closely as if he expects him to have a breakdown. But Tim has been taught to appear calm even if he feels anything but.

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”

Tim should be glad. If all goes well and they do not die here, his parents might never find out what happened. He does not have to tell Robin his last name. He is just a nobody who had bad luck. Once they are out of here, he can just vanish. If they get out of here.

Robin cocks his head to the side, concern crossing his face. “You’re a civilian,” he explains then puffs out his chest and points at his suit. “That’s what this whole thing is about. Protecting people.”

Perhaps people who do not stalk them and take pictures without asking, who do not put themselves in danger constantly just because they are hoping for the right shot.

But Tim believes him anyway. He was raised by a cynic but he knows Robin. Knows him through endless nights of watching him do the right thing, of putting his life on the line for others.

“What do they want you to do?” Tim asks, changing the topic without much finesse.

He is also not sure he wants to know the answer to that. What if they are asking something terrible of Robin, like killing somebody. Tim cannot be the reason for Robin to do that.

But Robin scoffs, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Rob a bank or five.”

That is surprisingly mundane. Banks are robbed every day without the help of vigilantes. Some even successfully. “What do they need you for then?”

To his surprise, Robin pouts. “I could totally rob a bank, and probably better than them, too” he says, entirely missing the point.

Despite their situation, Tim finds himself grinning at Robin’s offended tone. He imagines him as some kind of modern Robin Hood, robbing a bank and then making it rain money right outside of it.

Then he sobers. They are still locked up in some cell and he has a busted ankle and a possible concussion. “Well, you shouldn’t do it.”

Robin’s expression grows serious, too. “They said they’d hurt you if I don’t,” he says in that same tone Tim’s father does when he is testing Tim, fishing for a reaction.

Now it is Tim’s turn to be offended. “You’re Robin,” he exclaims.

Robin nods but does not give an answer. Instead, he leans forwards, seemingly unconcerned with their situation. “What’s your name?”

Tim could lie. He is good at it and it would surely save him a lot of trouble. But it is not every day that one meets their hero and despite the circumstances, he wants this interaction between them to be real.

“Tim,” he says, hesitating long enough to make Robin frown. He still holds his last name back. That does not have a place here, and there is a small chance that Robin knows their next-door neighbours are called Drake and have a son named Tim, even though his life is certainly interesting enough to not bother with who is living down the street.

“Do you trust me, Tim?” Robin asks, his voice gentler now as if he does not want to spook Tim. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a start, Tim realizes Robin thinks he is afraid. Well, he is, but for the entirely wrong reasons. They are in a bad situation but it could be so much worse. For one, Tim could be here alone.

He nods because that seems like the thing to do. He is cold and in pain and his hero might be forced to commit a crime to keep him alive. While he is aware of all of that, he can barely touch those thoughts, like his head is underwater but he is seeing lights on the surface, jumping out of reach whenever he reaches for them.

Tim is fine. Beneath the mask, Robin is just a kid, too, and Tim will not make it harder on him by whining. Or panicking. That will not do either of them any good.

“Batman will come for you, right?” It is a mistake to ask, Tim notices that right away when Robin’s shoulders stiffen.

He does not understand. Batman and Robin are a team. They have each other’s back and, of course, one would come running when the other is in danger. Right?

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin says, crossing his arms in front of him only to let them fall again a moment later.

That certainly puts a crack in Tim’s picture-perfect idea of his favourite vigilantes. He knows better than most that things are seldom as calm and shiny as they appear on the surface, but Batman and Robin – nothing is supposed to taint that.

“I’m sorry,” he says because he is not sure what else to do. His mother taught him that other people’s weaknesses are there to be exploited, but he does not want to be that kind of person.

Robin looks at him, then sighs. “No, you’re right.” He sounds conflicted, making him sound even younger. Like that, he is more human, mask or not, but that is not helpful in the situation they are in. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

“I can’t fight,” Tim points out, afraid that he will be the reason Robin gets hurt, after all. He had some training, bullies and his family name made that a necessity, but he is no Robin, no hero.

“You don’t have to,” Robin says, full of conviction. “I’ll protect you.”

Tim wants to ask how but he has learned that too many questions only make things harder, at times. Instead, he offers, “You could pretend to be me.”

He is not sure where it comes from, but a plan is forming in front of his eyes. Tim is a bit smaller than Robin and a lot scrawnier, but people tend to look only at the suit. And they only needed a few moments to jump the kidnappers anyway. As soon as an actual fight begins, the ruse will be up.

“They’ll notice,” Robin scoffs. He does not quite dismiss Tim, but Tim knows that tone very well. It is hard not to let it get to him because some part of him desperately wants to impress Robin, but he has practice with that, too. “And what good would that bring us anyway?”

“We’ll swap clothes,” Tim explains, shamefully eager at the very idea of touching the suit. “They don’t think I’m a danger, so when they come back, they’ll go right for the suit and ignore you. So, you can take them by surprise.”

It is a good plan, or as good as they will likely get. They are locked in a windowless room that does not stop spinning before Tim’s eyes, and only one of them is really capable of getting them out if Robin does not want to wait for Batman – and Tim does not want to either, yearning for some pain meds, an ice pack and his bed. Taking the bad guys by surprise is their only chance, really. Otherwise, they are simply two children sitting in a trap.

“I’m Robin,” Robin insists as if Tim has forgotten that. As if, in addition to taking his clothes, he suggested stripping him of the title as well. “I can’t take off the mask.”

There is that, true. Tim opens his mouth to say Robin can keep the mask, that they will just keep their heads down until it is too late for the kidnappers to realize the wrong boy is in the suit. What falls from his lips instead is, “I know who you are.”

Robin moves quicker than Tim’s probably concussed brain can follow and then he is right in from of Tim, shoving him against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the air out of Tim’s lungs and, before he can react, Robin’s arm is pressed against his throat, not quite choking him but a definite threat.

“What did you say?” Robin growls in a clear imitation of Batman, a few decades too young. It still causes a shiver to run down Tim’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, only to have Robin increase the pressure. How did things go so wrong so quickly? He just – masks, secret identities. Tim has gotten so comfortable with following them around that he forgot nobody is supposed to know who they are. “I live next door to you,” he blurts out, not caring anymore about keeping his last name secret.

For the first time since waking up in this room, he is afraid instead of just panicked. When he started following Batman and Robin around, he knew he could never let them catch him. They might be the good guys, but they do have their identities to protect, and he has seen countless times what Batman does to the people that cross him. He did not even try to find out who they are. It just made sense.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Tim croaks, growing desperate when Robin does nothing but stare at him, never relenting his hold. “I won’t.”

“How?”

Tim whimpers when Robin shoves him again, aggravating his headache. This is not supposed to happen. He never thought Robin would like him, really, the kid with stalkerish tendencies, but he did not think meeting his hero would go quite like this either.

“I’m running BatWatch.”

That stupid blog that started as a challenge to himself but has quickly become the centre of Tim’s life, uploading pictures and commentary on Gotham’s very own vigilante bats. All complimentary, of course, because they protect the city and certain journalists just do not know what they are writing. Tim just tries to put the Bats back into a more positive light. Sometimes, it makes him feel like a hero in his own right. That is his secret identity.

After a long, tense moment, Robin’s hold loosens, even if he does not take the arm away. His expression is still closed off. “You? The blog has been around for years.”

Tim takes pride in that. It grew from a few blurry pictures every other week to detailed articles. People like to complain about Batman, and Tim just wants to remind people of all the good the vigilantes are doing.

“You’ve been Robin for years,” Tim shoots back, voice still more of a croak from the shock. He is not sure the danger is over.

Robin sits back. His hands are still on Tim but not quite as threatening anymore. That can change again any moment, Tim knows, so he clears his throat and just breathes.

“You know who Batman is and you never told anybody?” The incredulity in Robin’s tone is insulting, but Tim guesses a certain paranoia is part of the job.

“You’re heroes,” Tim exclaims and winces inwardly. That made him sound entirely too young. There is no hiding he is still a kid but he does not have to act immaturely, too.

“And you want me to believe it is a mere coincidence that you were in the right place to be kidnapped along with me?” Robin says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, which Tim does not fully hear because his mind is stuck on right place. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”

The accusation hurts worse than the shove earlier, although it leaves him just as trapped. “I would never,” Tim says and glares in the best imitation of his mother as he can manage.

Feeling, cornered, he bats Robin’s hands away with what little strength he has left, pain and disappointment having taken their toll. To his surprise, Robin lets him go. He gets up and ignores the way his vision swims and the pain in his ankle flares up. There is nowhere to go. The room is still bare and the door is still locked. But he needs to get away from Robin and his accusations, so he limps to the far corner and sinks rather ungraciously back to the floor.

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he can hear his father laugh at his naivety. What did he think would happen? That Robin would be impressed? That he would expect a scrawny teenager to be good for anything? He had been dreaming about meeting Robin for years but – well, he should have listened better to what his parents say about dreams.

“You’re hurt,” Robin says, sounding sheepish.

Tim glances over his shoulder and sees that Robin stood up, too, but he thankfully does not come closer. In fact, he looks a bit lost, all suited up with no way to escape.

“It’s nothing,” Tim mutters, looking back at the wall. A crack runs through it right in front of his face. He imagines digging here and finding nothing but more cement. A grave in the middle of the city.

“You were limping.”

What does that have to do with anything? “Just a strain.” And definitely a concussion. He should better not mention that, he is already enough of a liability.

“We can’t get out of here if you can’t walk,” Robin says, sounding almost agitated, but when Tim looks at him it does not show on his face.

So, this is how it is. He knows this game very well. “Then you had better leave me behind. That’s safer anyway if I’m one of them.”

That cutting tone is from his mother. Any other time, he would hate how much of his parents he recognizes in himself, but it does come in handy every now and then. Although it does not bring him any satisfaction to watch Robin flinch. Tim is the faulty one here, the obstacle to overcome. It is better to just take him out of the equation.

He does not want to be left behind, of course. Chances are low that the kidnappers will simply let him go when they do not need him anymore. And he has no particular desire to find out where Gotham’s lost children end up.

“I’m – I won’t leave you here.” Robin has come closer, looking down at Tim with a seriousness that hurts.

Tim smiles, but it feels all wrong, hollow yet sharp at the edges. It should not surprise him that he does not measure up. Just because he looks up to Robin does not mean that Robin will find anything worthwhile when looking back. Something about him always turns people away, he is never quite enough.

“They won’t need me once you’re gone,” Tim points out and does not say that he is very aware that this will likely end with a bullet in his head. It is not like he can change that. He is tired and, for once, wants nothing more than to go home – without putting Robin in more danger.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment in which Tim thinks he really is doomed. Then Robin says, “Come,” his jaw set with new determination. “I’ll need your clothes.”

Tim does not move, even as Robin begins to take off the suit, no trace of hesitation left in his movements. In the privacy of his mind, Tim has longed for years to wear the Robin colours. But not like this, not here, not when the real Robin has already made his judgement of Tim.

“What about the mask?” Tim asks quietly, intent on reminding Robin what a stupid idea this is.

“I can’t let them see my face, so I’ll keep it on,” Robin says matter-of-factly, as if this very problem did not end in a physical altercation only minutes before. “But you can stay with your back to the door and I’ll jump them before they can notice anything.”

That is what Tim thought they should do earlier, but now he is full of doubt. Turning his back to the door alone fills him with uneasiness. He might not be a fighter, but it feels wrong to serve himself on a silver platter, too. And, since Tim is the hostage in this scenario, what if they do not go for Robin, which would squander their element of surprise. What if Robin will not be able to deal with whoever is coming for them? What if there are too many opponents? What if –

“Hey.” Suddenly, Robin is right in front of Tim, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and blatant concern on his face. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Tim takes a deep breath, concentrates on the ground beneath him and the warmth from Robin’s hand and even the way his ankle throbs. The situation is not ideal, but he is alive and mostly intact. He is not alone.

He believes Robin. What would life be if he could not trust his hero anymore? Robin helps people. It is his job.

But Tim has been following Batman and Robin around for a bit too long. He has seen them share street food during long patrols. He has watched Robin jump around in circles around Batman when bored and limp home after a bad fight. Beneath the mask, Tim knows very well, is just a boy not much older than him. Jason Todd, child of Gotham’s darkest streets, full of foul words and endless bravado.

This is not a heroic story. Tim is not behind the camera taking pictures. He is not a bystander, sequestered safely away on a rooftop. This is real. And Tim might have dreamt of himself as Robin – or at least as Robin’s sidekick – but not like this. He is acutely aware of how inadequate he is.

And yet, Tim nods. If he knows anything, it is how to pretend, how to keep his head held high. His hands, when he unzips his jacket, are shaking. If Robin notices, he does not comment on it. That makes it easier, if only slightly.

It is hard not to stare as the Robin suit lands piece by piece on the ground, rumpled and nearly unassuming, just flimsy looking material in too bright colours. The shaking gets worse as Tim reaches for it, but he does not allow himself to hesitate. It is now or never.

The suit does not quite fit. Tim is too small and too scrawny. Worse is the way his skin burns, touching something forbidden. He guesses he will not have those dreams of being Robin anymore, considering how miserable he feels while pretending for even just a moment.

“You look good,” Rob- Jason says. Because in Tim’s clothes he looks altogether too young, just another boy stranded in a bad situation. Tim cannot detect any condescension in his tone.

Still, Tim scoffs and avoids looking down at himself. “Let’s hope it fools them.”

He would be surprised if it does. He certainly feels like a bad impostor, radiating his uneasiness for everybody to pick up.

Robin opens his mouth, doubtlessly to tell Tim some more reassuring lies, but Tim turns away, effectively cutting him off. He just wants to get this over with.

He lies down on the ground, trying for a posture that is not too conspicuous while still allowing Jason to blend into the background. Even though all his instincts scream that it is wrong, he turns his back to the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jason put his hood up and mess up his hair until his face is shrouded in shadows and the mask is not so obvious anymore.

And then, they wait.

Or, rather Tim plans to wait. Jason apparently does not deal too well with silences because he first shifts around impatiently, then huffs. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, Tim –”

“I’m fine,” Tim cuts him off. This is his one-in-a-lifetime chance of being cooped up with Robin, but talking did not turn out too well before, and he would rather not make things worse. “You don’t need to keep asking.”

It is also not a lie. The pain in both his ankle and his head have dulled to a low throbbing and the panic is under control. He is aware this will change once they are moving again, but for now everything is all right.

Jason hums, clearly not believing him, but then he says, “Actually, I wanted to know why you never said anything.”

Tim closes his eyes briefly. “About what?”

“Who we are. If you knew all this time.” Of course, Jason will not let this go. Perhaps he has a right to, considering how carefully Batman has hidden his identity all these years.

“It’s a secret.” Tim cranes his neck to stare at Jason. He admires Robin and would never endanger him like that. But if Jason is still not fully convinced Tim is not working with the enemy here, his doubt should be expected.

But then Jason asks, “Why didn’t you talk to us?” His tone is way too innocent for such a loaded question.

Tim is silent for a long moment. The truth would be that he did not want anyone to stop him from going out at night, but he can hardly say that. Jason Todd might understand the lack of parental supervision that lets Tim do as he pleases, but as Robin, he might ask questions that Tim really does not want to answer. And Batman surely would not let that stand. He is happy with things as they are. Getting a glimpse of all the excitement from afar is enough.

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You have better things to do.” Better than indulging Tim’s stupid dreams.

He feels Jason’s stare on his back but does not look up again. “Well, what if someone kidnapped you and made you tell them?”

The veiled accusation sits like hot coals in Tim’s stomach. He wants to snap back, say that nobody would kidnap him. But the very fact that he is sitting in a locked room with Robin right at this moment makes that argument void.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says when Tim does not answer. He should not apologize when he is right.

Footsteps come closer, effectively cutting their conversation off. Saved by the very real possibility of being killed, Tim thinks and tries to relax his tense muscles.

The door opens with the same screeching protest as before and Tim feels woefully unprepared. All he has to do is lie here and let the real Robin do the work and yet his hands start shaking again.

“Have you thought about our offer, little birdie?” a voice asks, sounding too close for comfort already. “Or do we need to make the kid scream?”

Don’t go to Jason, Tim thinks fervently, even as he forces himself to keep his face turned away. The entire game will be up before they can even make the first move if they recognize him.

There is another set of footsteps, perhaps two, but Tim cannot look up. He has to give Jason the chance to get them out.

“Ignoring us won’t –” The man cuts off with a grunt and Tim looks up just in time to see him doubling over while Jason whirls around him, using his leg as a ladder to jump up and kick at the second guy before punching the first in the temple with his elbow. The man goes down like someone cut his strings.

All Tim can do is try to not get crushed and watch as Jason never loses momentum but makes short work of the other two men. It is over so quickly that Tim is left with too much adrenaline in the sudden silence, his heart beating as loud as a war drum and his hands balled into fists he thankfully did not have to use.

“Yes,” Jason exclaims. His grin is very much out of place but Tim still finds himself answering in kind. He did not even do anything and yet he feels victorious. “The credit goes to you, of course, since it was your idea.”

Tim wants to say that they are not yet out of here, but his face heats up and he lets his eyes drop. Looking at the unconscious men is better than to meet Jason’s undeserved praise.

“I mean it, Tim,” Jason adds, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You were already thinking up plans while I wasted time on being angry. You kept a cool head. Not everybody could.”

The warmth from Jason’s hand and words spreads right into Tim’s core. They should not just stand around but get going but Tim cannot help himself. He does not get compliments like this, barely does anything worth noticing. Even ignoring the whole kidnapping, this is a night he will never forget.

“We should make sure they won’t be able to follow us,” Tim says, still feeling the glow in his cheeks. “And we should probably change clothes again.” Silently, he prays Jason will agree that there is no time for that. Even just pretending, the suit is a comfort now that they survived the first hurdle of getting out of here.

“Let’s stay like this. The colour suits you.” Jason winks but gets serious a moment later. He leans forward and fishes two pairs of handcuffs out of a pocket of the suit. “Put these on two of them. I’ll take care of the third.”

It is strange to move the unconscious bodies, even though they are definitely breathing. There is not even blood. Tim hurries to finish the task and then watches Jason string up the last guy with his own shoelaces.

“Ready to go?” Jason asks as he gets to his feet, looking strangely energetic for someone in their position. “I think I know the way out, so follow after me. We’ll try to avoid running into any more of these idiots.”

So, there are more. Their victory quickly turns sour at this reminder that they have not yet escaped. But Tim nods. He is very much out of his depth and really, really glad he is not alone.

At the door, Jason pauses again. “Will you be okay with your ankle?” Concern passes over his face and he looks Tim up and down as if he considers carrying him.

“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. He will not slow them down and he will not make this harder on Jason. It is bad enough that he had to be rescued.

When Jason turns away, thankfully believing him, Tim takes a probing step. His ankle hurts and he knows it will only get worse from here on out. But he stands by his word. He will manage. Once he is safely at home, he can put some ice on it and recover. And home is so much more within reach now.

Jason hurries ahead, light-footed and with the easy elegance of a fighter. Following after him, Tim feels clumsy and loud. He closes the door to their cell and then looks cautiously down the hall. It looks identical on both sides but Jason never hesitates over which way to choose. That has to be enough.

They make it out without issue. Tim’s chest hurts as if he held his breath the entire time until they finally step out into the night air. He breathes and feels a smile spread on his face. They did it.

Jason touches his elbow briefly, motioning him to keep walking. Of course, they are not out of danger yet. So, Tim follows, down dark streets then up to the roofs. It is different to walk Gotham next to Robin, even if Tim is still the one wearing the suit. It feels like nothing in this city can touch them.

The throbbing in his ankle has turned into a constant burning. He does not say anything, though. It is still manageable and they are not yet safe. Still, he is glad when Jason is finally content with how far they have come and signals Tim to stop.

“How’s the foot?” Jason asks and reaches out for it almost as soon as they are sitting down.

Out of instinct, Tim withdraws. He is not used to being coddled, so they do not need to start now. “It’s fine.” At Jason’s blatantly unbelieving look, he adds, “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be right as rain.”

Jason clearly does not like that. “We should do an x-ray, just to be sure.”

“No hospitals,” Tim refuses immediately, the vehemence in his voice biting. If his parents find out about this they will never again let him set a single foot out their house unchaperoned.

And since they got out without anybody learning who Tim is, chances are good that he can keep this entire night secret. His parents will likely not come back before his ankle is healed, and even so he could lie to them. A sudden hospital visit, on the odder hand, is not so easily explained away.

Jason narrows his eyes but wisely does not decide to ask about the hidden implication. “We’ve got all we need at home.”

With home Jason means the manor. Bruce Wayne’s manor. Or even the rumoured Batcave.

“I can’t go home with you.” The mere thought has his brain sputtering to a halt. He needs to go to his own house, sort out his ankle and concussion, and then probably look for something else to take photos of. Batman cannot be made aware that he has a stalker, especially not a kid running around rooftops at night. “And you can’t tell anybody about me.”

He is not making a very good case for himself here, Tim realizes, feeding into Jason’s suspicions about him.

“I feel like that’s my line.” With a pointed look, Jason asks, “Is anybody even waiting for you at home?”

Tim hates the way his shoulders straighten automatically. Jason has no reason to suspect that his home life is anything but orderly and normal. Apart from him being out alone at night. Plenty of children do that, certainly, sneaking out of their window with no one being the wiser. They would not want their parents to find out. Nothing here indicates that Tim’s parents are away from home more often than they actually sleep in their own beds or that Tim has been managing his own life without anybody’s input for years. Nothing indicates that, one of these days, Tim’s father will run out of patience and beat some sense into him instead of just shouting and throwing things, or that his mother’s disappointment in him will simply grow too much to bear and she will not come home at all anymore.

Tim plasters a smile on his face and rolls his eyes. The effort is wasted, certainly, but appearances must be upheld. “I very much hope they’re not waiting because then they’d know I snuck out.” If he times it right, he will even miss the housekeeper who’s coming in the next day, and then he will have all the time in the world to sort himself out.

Jason does not believe him. He stares at Tim, looking suddenly much older than his years. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “How do you do this, Alfred?”, but Tim does not know who Alfred is or what he has to do with this, so he ignores it.

Finally, Jason nods, even if he does not look happy about it. “I’ll bring you home.”

Tim already told him that he is living next door, but that does not mean he wants Jason to come. “You can’t –”

But Jason shakes his head, interrupting him. “I’ll drop you off outside your door, then we’ll exchange numbers. And you will call me if you need anything.” It sounds like a threat more than an offer of help.

Tim should be elated. He has met his hero, got out of their adventure together more or less intact, and he gets Robin’s number out of it, even if he already knows he will never use it. He also got to wear the Robin suit, no matter the reason.

“We should change our clothes,” Tim says because he will not be tricked into going to the Wayne house after all because they put this off.

He realizes his caution was right when Jason starts grinning. “Oh, no,” he exclaims far too happily. “You will keep that on and I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I check in on you.”

Check in – the only person checking in on Tim is the housekeeper, who is paid handsomely for it and for not telling anybody that Tim’s parents are constantly out of the country. “You don’t need to check in on me,” Tim says, barely able to comprehend the concept. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He is. Or he will be if only people stopped putting their noses into his business.

“It’s non-negotiable, Tim” Jason says and cocks his head. “Now, do you want to stay stubborn and let me carry you or can I call someone to drive us?”

Neither of these, Tim thinks. Especially because the only one Jason would call that Tim can think of is Batman. Then again, Jason did not sound so eager to have Batman come for them, earlier, so perhaps that is an empty threat.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Tim says pointedly but does not make a move to get up. He will when they get going again. Until then, he is happy to rest.

Jason clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to let you limp,” he says as if that is the worst thing that happened this night. “And to stop your next argument, they guy who’ll pick us up knows all about the suit.”

So, not Batman? But it does not matter. He is fine, and he really cannot have anyone else see him and find out about this night. “I can –”

“Listen, Tim,” Jason cuts him off and puts that damned hand back on Tim’s shoulder as if he knows how grounding that is. “I’m not the motherly type. That’s what we’ve got Dick for. But this was a stressful night and you’re hurt. Let me please make sure that you get home in one piece.”

He sounds earnest, but also like he is reaching the end of the rope. And Tim does not want that. It was a stressful night. “Fine.” If he is honest with himself, giving in is a relief because he really does not want to get back to his feet and his vision is still swimming, although he better not even hint at that if he wants to get Jason off his back. If he is that concerned about a busted ankle, he will definitely not let Tim out of sight if he learns about the possible – definite – concussion.

“Great, I knew you’d see reason.” Jason claps his hands and gets to his feet, seemingly not at all tired. “Now, let me make a call and then you can give me your number.”

Tim hums and leans back, desperate to just rest his eyes for a moment. His heart is still beating too quickly, not yet reassured that the danger is over. He listens to Jason talk on the phone and then to him telling some stories about too big manors with perfect banisters. Tim wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the two of them on this roof, but his camera was lost somewhere in that basement or on the way there. He will grieve for it tomorrow. Right now, he is just glad that he is alive, happy to let Jason talk and bask in the surrealism of this night.

Perhaps he dreamt this whole thing up. Exhaustion might have caught up with him and he slipped at home, hit his head. Perhaps – but then Jason nudges him awake and says, “Alfie’s here.”

They climb down the roof and into a car and the old man who introduces himself as Alfred has the warmest concerned expression that Tim has ever seen.

No, he decides, this was real. He is in the Robin suit and tomorrow Jason will visit him and pretend to believe whatever lies Tim will make up about his parents. Swimming in the exhausted void left behind by too much adrenaline, Tim grins at Jason, carefree and just happy to be alive. With a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, Jason grins back.

Yes, very much real.

[fairymadnessyeah]

BNHA Ship to Finish the Year

KotEri (Izumi Kota x Eri Aizawa)

Canon

I like to think that Kota and Eri meet during October. Eri never went trick or treating, and since Kota is a kid her age and Ragdoll is available for taking the door to door, Shota deems it okay.

They met before Halloween night, and it goes okay. Mostly they talk about costumes.

They dress up as LeMillion and Deku. Ragdoll sends a lot of pictures, It's too cute.

From there on out, the two are inseparable. I feel like Kota would be Eri's first friends, and he teaches her the beauty of pranks. Once, they put cooking oil on the floor and watched as Iida went flying into the TV. There is a no running rule now.

I don't think they would go to school together until they go to UA. 

I feel like until then Kota only sees her as a friend until they start high school. Suddenly, the guys of class 1a are talking about who the cutest girl and they all think it's Eri.

He knows he shouldn't, but he is mad about it... Oh no!

I feel that for Eri, it happens later and more slowly. She knows she can trust Kota. Whenever she has a problem or needs someone to talk to, she knows she can trust in him.

By the second year, when I imagine he suddenly hits a growth spurt and enters his emo phase, she realizes he is handsome. 

The two don't say anything until they go to a hero-convention (Deku Merch!) and one of the ex-Hassaikai attacks as a villain and recognizes Eri.

Kota helps her by taking her around the city, and when they get to a Sakura tree, Eri leans in and kisses him. He obviously returns it, and they start dating.

They keep it a secret for as long as they can, since Aizawa is the principal and very protective of his daughter. However, once he finds out, his trust in Kota is completely broken. He is not welcome in their home anymore.

However, Shinsou is weaker against Eri's puppy eyes.

I don't know why, but I would love a fic about them like this:

"Hey Izu-kun, you know how to drive right? And your aunt's and uncle let you take their car whenever?"

"Yeah, why?" "I need you to drive me somewhere?" "Sure, where?" "Tartarous," "... alright."

"So, why am I driving you to Tartarous?" "Oh, I want to talk with Chisaki," "*stops abruptly* WHAT!? You want to talk with the man that tortured you since you can remember and made your life a living hell!? WHY!?!?"

"I need closure. I know I might never be able to forget him and what he did, but I can't freeze every time somebody mentions him. I need to do this, I need to move on,"

He goes with her, as moral support. It kind of helps seeing him armless, behind bars and defeated, but Eri simply tells him she is moving on with her life and he should too.

After it, they go for ice-cream and a walk in the beach (I like to think this is a favourite date for them). I think it's a very romantic moment until Shinsou interrupt them.

Her family was made aware that she visited Chisaki and have been looking for her like crazy.

Family

Aizawa is not happy when he finds out. This is what happens:

*Eri comes in with Kota. The two have smoothies, Kota a blue one and Eri a red one* "Hi dad! We are going to be in my room studying! Don't interrupt us!" "Alright!"

*An hour later* "Eri, Mic is going to be home in a few minutes, we'll have dinner when he arrives. Is Kota staying?" "No, his aunt is picking him up in a bit," "...Why is your tongue purple?" "Oh... um... maybe it was the smoothie," "You had a red smoothie... and Kota had a blue... one..." 

*He realizes what happened and starts stomping up the stair, Eri behind him, telling him to calm down. He slams the door open and sees Kota, with his hair messed and his lips covered in lip gloss, throwing himself off the window.* "Come here, you traitor!"

Aizawa calls a family meeting, and even Shinsou who has his own home has to come. He is ready to expel him, he feels betrayed. He trusted that kid in his home, and he takes advantage of his daughter? I don't think so! He is going to die.

Hizashi cries, his baby girl is replacing him. (I headcanon that she would die her hair to look like a rainbow, and Kota helps her, instead of Hizashi)

Shinsou is the one who sides with Eri, reminding his parents that she is old enough to make a decision like this, and they should trust her. "Besides, I was her age when Kaminari and I started doing stuff," "What?" "What?" "I don't live here anymore, I don't have to keep secrets,"

Shinsou lets her come to his home to get ready for her dates, so that Koda doesn't have to fear for his life in their living room. However, he still threatens him.

"For some reason, you make Eri happy. But if that changes, and you make her sad, you are going to wish, Midoriya never saved you from Muscular," "H-how do you know that?" "I know everything. Have fun on your date!"

The WWP are embarrassing. They have a photo album ready, they tell Eri how much he talks about her.

They also have an open-door policy, but Koda is a rebel and doesn't follow the rule. However, they found a way around it.

*comes in without knocking* "Hey kiddos, want some cookies?" "No, Aunt. We are fine," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Hey lovebirds, are you thirsty? I made some lemonade!" "We are fine, Pixie-bob," "Alright, just keep the door open!"

*comes in without knocking* "Have you seen the cat?" "We don't have a cat, Ragdoll!" "Oh, right! Keep the door open!"

But when he locks the door:

*BANG!* "Aaaaahhhh!" "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" "Tiger! Did you just kick the door open!?" "Yes! Remember to keep the door open!"

Also, when they found out, the WWD follows them on their date. They need pictures.

The problem is that Kota and Eri are not on a date. They are helping Katsumo give a tour of the city to his sister. They all notice the four pros following them, Kota tells them to ignore them.

I feel like Deku would be happy for them. His first fans are so cute together. 

AU - Band AU

This is a modern setting au.

So, Eri was adopted into music. After she was rescued from Chisaki, she was adopted by Present Mic and his husband, Aizawa.

Present Mic is a famous radio host, and before that, he and Aizawa and Oboro played in a band together. Now, Aizawa is a music manager for young artist, in between those there is 1A band.

As she grows up, she is introduced to music, and it becomes one of the best things in her life. She is a great singer, and she also learns how to play the piano.

She want to have a career in music, so when she is a teen, at UA school, she joins the music club.

She is trying to form a band, and along the way she finds Katsuma, who becomes the bassist, Tamashiro on the drums, and they only need a guitarist and vocalist.

Enter Bad boy Kota. His parents were musicians that died in a boat accident, and so Kota now lives his aunt and their dancing group, The Wild Wild Pussycats.

He used to love music, but now it's only a reminder of who he lost.

But one day, Eri hears him sing. She asks if he would want to join their band. He refuses and leaves, but that is not the last he sees of Eri.

The two are paired for some school work, and while working on it, Eri starts singing, and it wakes something in him.

Kota doesn't know what it was, but suddenly, he felt as if he was with his parents again.

He tells her that he'll join her band temporarily, at least so he has enough time to figure out what was that feeling.

They are all ecstatic, and they start playing together.

Eri and Kota are the ones who most clash since he is really into rock and edgy stuff, and she is more cute and pop style.

However, the two spend a lot of time together.

Kota wants to understand how Eri makes him feel stuff, and Eri doesn't really mind his company, so she lets him stay. She was always very shy, so it's hard for her to make friends without recurring to music.

At some point, Eri tells Kota about her life as Chisaki's toy, and it makes him realize why Eri is so special.

She is real, she suffered and survived, and now she can keep smiling. Which Kota never got to, he never moved on from his parents death, and still hold on to the rage and sadness.

Kota also opens up to Eri, and he tells her about his parents death and his departure from music.

Eri asks him to sing with her, and when they do, Kota feels like he has his parents back. It brings him to tears, but Eri hold him.

The band present themselves to the talent show of the school and somehow end up winning. 

During the celebration party, Kota and Eri kiss.

Fanon Opinion

I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable writing NSFW stuff about Kota or Eri.

I know that I age up everybody, and I did so with these two, too, but I can't.

I can't picture them as nothing, but children and I am not going to write PWP about that. 

I don't they would do it until their third year, but I do think that they make out.

I think this is a very cute couple. They have that puppy-love thing going for them. 

Also, I love this because it would be a good thing for Eri. We just want good things for Eri.

And I know that Eri is older than Kota, and supposedly she should be his senpai. But with all the emotional baggage she has, I think it makes sense that she would start school a little later.

I think that they would be a beach and parks couple. In summer, they go to the beach, while in the winter they hang around the park.

I feel like they would love to go camping.

Also, they match. They are horn buddies.

Also, Tik-Tok has a lot of stuff about them, so I recommend seeing them. I got the Band AU idea from it.

I imagine that they would become heroes when they are older. Eri would be like a new recovery girl, but scarier, and Kota would torture the children when they go to the training camp.

In my mind, Eri uses Aizawa's capture weapon, but she has it wrapped around her arms, covering her scars.

Also, while they are at the dorms, they are the Parent Couple. The two take care of their classmates with Kota stopping them from doing stupid shit and lecturing them, and Eri comforting them and healing their bruises.

Also, if Katsuma goes with them to class, he would be the baby.

"Oh, No! This is Bad! This is Bad! Stress is bad for the baby!"

"What baby?"

"ME! I'm the baby!"

[eliemo]

All Gone- Part 3

Next part of my fan work for the Labelled Universe by @snowdice

Sorry this part took a bit longer to upload, but its also a longer chapter! 

TW: kidnapping, violence, panic and mention of drugs (nothing too bad, just sedatives and stuff) 

Virgil woke with what he quickly decided was the absolute worst headache he’d ever had in his entire life. 

And with how many times he’d woken up in varying degrees of pain, that was really saying something. At least he’d had morphine when he’d opened his eyes to a bullet wound. 

Now though, it felt like somebody had taken a meat cleaver to his skull, his head throbbing in time to his racing heartbeat, his whole body trembling and burning like he’d been dunked in lava. 

Jesus, he wasn’t even sure he could move. 

Virgil tried to open his eyes, quickly backtracking and squeezing them shut when even a sliver of dim light felt like a million tiny knives burrowing into his brain. 

He bit back a groan as a wave of nausea washed over him, overwhelming and awful as he lay perfectly still against something cold and hard. 

Hadn’t he been at school? He thought so. It had been the week from Hell- his foggy, pounding brain could at least piece that together. 

Between school work piling up as the year came to an end, stress from a new villain rising in power, and the fight with Logan, Virgil was--

Logan. 

This time, Virgil’s eyes did fly open, his sudden panic as memories came flooding back not nearly enough to smother the cry of pain as agony shot through his whole body at the movement. 

Logan had been right in front of him, calling to him from the car, panicked and afraid as arms wrapped around Virgil and dragged him into the dark. 

There’s been a stabbing pain in his neck, something cold and sharp pressing into his skin before he’d passed out. 

Oh god, had he been drugged? How long had he been out?

It couldn’t have been too long, he reasoned against the rising panic. Logan wouldn’t let him stay kidnapped for long. Logan would find him, kick the shit out of whoever had taken Virgil, and bring him home to a fretting Patton. 

It would be fine. It was ok. No need to freak out like a baby, Logan was probably on his way right now to--

“Are you awake, Shadow Caster?” 

That made Virgil freeze, panic intensifying because last time he checked he definitely was not wearing his mask. He’d just been trying to get home after band practice. 

There were feet suddenly moving in his line of sight, and Virgil shrank back out of instinct, tensing at the feeling of someone looming over him, in far too much pain to try scrambling away. 

 “Well, hey.” The man was crouching down, still too close and too tall, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he moved closer. “What’s the matter, Shadow? Scared?” 

It was that horrible sickly sweet tone, the one Virgil had heard so many times before that reeked of false kindness, drenched in eager giddiness at the power they had over him. 

Virgil couldn’t move from where he lay on the floor, and he was quickly realizing that wasn’t just from the fear. His body, aside from the lingering pain, felt heavy and cold, limbs slow and unresponsive. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said. “Do you prefer Virgil?”

Virgil felt like he was going to be sick, hearing his real name somehow so much worse, the reality of the entire situation hitting all at once, too many memories flooding back. 

He couldn’t even concentrate long enough to form anything more than a measly shadow against his ankle. Nothing that would be of any help. 

Virgil risked a glance up, furiously forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over at what he saw. 

It was the man from the news, the one Logan had been working tirelessly to track down. The one that clearly had no qualms with killing innocents. 

And he knew who Virgil was behind the mask. He’d taken him right in front of Logan. 

“What do you want?” Virgil asked in a breathy rush, cringing at how shaky his voice was. He couldn’t see most of his kidnapper’s face behind the black mask, but his eyes were practically glowing with amusement. 

“Here,” he said, and Virgil couldn;t even try to hold back the whimper that escaped when the man reached forward, shrinking back and shutting his eyes. “Let’s get you off the floor.” 

Virgil tried to protest, tried to kick and scramble away, tried to do anything in his power to make sure this man didn’t touch him, but in the end it was useless. 

Virgil’s body was still slow and uncooperative, and the man moved too fast. Before he knew it there was a hand fisted in his shirt, another squeezing his wrist, and Virgil was roughly yanked to his feet and dragged to the nearest wall, forced to sit up and lean against it. 

It wasn’t any better than laying on the floor, despite being a bit less vulnerable, and the sudden movements had only sent more bursts of stabbing pain through his body, stars dancing along his already hazy vision. 

He grit his teeth and said nothing, now staring resolutely at the man’s black jeans in front of him. 

“You’re sixteen, right?” the masked man asked. Virgil didn’t answer. “Poor kid. Do your parents know about your little bank robbing habit?” 

Virgil forced himself not to flinch, wishing he had the strength to curl up into a ball, feeling far too vulnerable and exposed. 

He barely went out as Shadow Caster anymore, spending the free time he did have training with Logan, and he definitely hadn’t stolen since moving in Logan and Patton. 

The man’s hand was suddenly moving without warning, too fast and too close to Virgil’s face, and he couldn’t fight back against a violent flinch this time, ears burning when the man laughed. 

“I don’t need to hurt you,” he said, a hand now rested on Virgil’s shoulder. It was too tight, too confining, to be anything even remotely gentle. “Your dad seemed real upset when I picked you up. We don’t want to keep him worrying much longer, right?” 

Virgil tired (and failed) to steady his breathing, dissolving mostly into hiccuping gasps, ignoring the nagging panic that came with each second Logan failed to make his entrance. 

He...he was coming, right? Virgil knew they’d fought that morning, and he’d been unfairly short tempered when he’d known Logan was already stressed but...but that wouldn’t mean…

Virgil didn’t realize he’d been hit until the pain registered, seconds after the deafening crack that rose up in the empty room, the man’s hand now missing one of his black gloves. 

“Are you paying attention to me, Shadow Caster?” 

It wasn;t the first time he’d been slapped, obviously, and definitely not the first time he’d heard that demand afterwards. Of course, this situation was arguably a bit different. 

He’d literally been kidnapped, he had no obligation to cower and submit to this adult’s wants. Logan was coming- he was. Virgil was still alive for a reason. He could afford to be defiant. 

But a bit of rational thought wasn’t nearly enough to erase a lifetime worth of conditioning. Virgil found himself pressing back even further against the wall, fighting to raise heavy, trembling hands up to block his face from another hit, unable to raise his eyes from the floor. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out, hating himself for turning so weak so quickly. He wondered, briefly, if Logan would be disappointed. “I...what do you want?” 

The man’s eyes practically lit up at the obvious fear, and Virgil shuddered under the weight of his excitement. He hoped his own expression wasn’t giving away how badly that slap had hurt. 

“I sent your friend Bluebird a nice little picture,” he said. “Figured he’d want to know the kid that used to follow him around had gotten into a little...predicament. Smart guy like him should be able to find our location, right?” 

Virgil forced himself to breathe, the mark on his face burning like acid. He had enough experience to know that it would probably leave a nasty bruise. 

“He’s...he’ll be here.” 

“Yeah?” It was impossible to tell for sure behind the mask, but Virgil thought the man was smirking. “You’ve already been here about two hours now.” 

Two hours? And Logan still hadn’t…

No. No. It was fine. It was all going to be ok. Logan would find him. He would. 

“He’ll be here,” Virgil repeated, barely audible, more for himself than anything. “And he’ll kick your ass.” 

Virgil expected the slap this time, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less, a new burst of pain exploding across his already throbbing cheek. 

“Tell you what,” the man said, casually, like Virgil wasn’t hunched over himself and fighting back tears. “Let’s make a deal, ok? Just in case he doesn’t.” 

Virgil didn’t answer, just stared resolutely down at his feet, shivering  and uselessly trying not to dissolve into sobs. 

God, he just wanted to go home. 

“I’ll let you go right now,” he said. “All I need is the Bird’s name. His real name. Tell me who he is, and you’re good to go.” 

And there was no way in hell Virgil was ever going to accept that. It wasn’t even a question. Not for a second. 

He was just glad this guy was apparently too stupid to connect Virgil’s recent adoption with the superhero’s identity. 

“No,” he spat, and quickly cringed back when the man’s hand raised again. “Wh-why don't you just...figure it out yourself? You found me.” 

“It’s not hard to find some street kid, Shadow. Not if you try hard enough. Bluebird’s another story.” 

Virgil swallowed, fairly sure he could taste some blood in his mouth as he hunched his shoulders and braced himself, knowing what was coming. 

“I don’t know who he is.” 

It was a fist that connected with his face this time, real anger finally leaking through the man’s giddy facade, and Virgil definitely tasted blood now. 

 “Don’t lie to me, kid.” 

“I-I’m not--” 

He honestly couldn’t tell if he’d been punched again, all of the pain was starting to blend together into one horrible wave of agony. But even as he feels himself roughly shoved to the ground, something digging into the back of his neck, his answer never changed. 

He was used to beatings. He could...he could take it. And yeah, maybe he’d gotten used to living under Logan and Patton’s safety the last year. Maybe it was worse because there was absolutely nothing stopping this man from killing him in seconds. 

But there wasn’t a second where he considered giving Logan up. Because even if he died...Logan would be ok. The only people to ever show him a shred of kindness in his life would be safe. 

And that was...that was…

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought before the weight on top of him was ripped away, the sudden change in pressure only making the pain flare up worse than before, and Virgil cried out in alarm. 

There were noises around him, too far away to make out, and much too loud to bring any semblance of calm. There were voices, he thought, angry and demanding, followed by deafening crashes and thuds. 

Had he done something wrong again? Everything hurt so bad and he couldn’t lift his head to even see where he was anymore. He shouldn’t be this weak. He should be able to get up and run while he could. He needed to get away, he needed--

There was a crash, louder than any of the other sounds, and Virgil thought he heard someone scream. A second later, he realized it could have been him. 

But the crash had definitely been close this time, like someone had hit the wall right above him, and Virgil used what was left of his fading strength to curl into himself, doing what he could to protect his face. 

Something sharp scraped against his arms and legs as he moved, stabbing pain joining the rest of the constant hurt, but he didn’t pay it any mind. 

And then, despite the fact that he hadn’t opened his eyes or lifted his head, Virgil is painfully aware of a presence making its way back towards him, looming over him, ready to hurt him all over again. 

But he wasn’t giving this guy any answers. 

“Virgil--” 

“I-I’m...I’m not telling you who-who he is, I’m not--” 

Oh god, Virgil can’t breathe. He can feel the panic rising up, stronger than the pain and drowsiness, and his chest aches with his labored, frantic breaths. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Virgil couldn’t help the sob that escaped as he flinched back, back slamming into the wall. 

“Please d-dont.” He was begging now, desperate and scared, unable to stop himself. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me I’m--”

“Virgil, it’s me.” The hand loosened slightly, but didn’t let go. “It’s just me. I found you, you’re safe.” 

And that...that sounded like…

“Look at me, Virgil. Please. I...I need to see that you’re alright.” 

Virgil found himself obeying, not moving from where he was curled up on the floor, but glancing up just enough to see Bluebird on his knees in front of him, gloved hand on Virgil’s hoodie. 

He couldn’t remember deciding to speak, barely able to hear his own pitiful voice. But it was there all the same, small and unsure. “D...dad?” 

There’s a beat of silence, Bluebird--Logan-- watching him with poorly concealed worry, before he clears his throat and replies. 

“Hello, Virgil. I assume you’re ready to go home.”

Virgil had broken down within seconds. He didn’t bother to hold back any sobs this time, still not strong enough to move from the floor, but Logan quickly gathers Virgil in his arms, murmuring frantic reassurances and what sounded like apologies. 

Logan held him close to his chet, Virgil pressed close enough to hear his heartbeat, fast and strong and real. 

Virgil felt himself being moved, but there was no panic that came with the motion, just another wave of pain and dizziness. Logan said something when he cried out in pain, hold briefly tightening, but Virgil was asleep before he could hear it. 

[onenerdtwonagas]

Outside Threats

(Warning: contains physical assault and attempted sexual assault.)

Uriah had recovered from his transition into elemental immortality nearly a year before, and he had begun learning how to adjust to his new innate abilities, but he certainly didn’t have a firm control over them. The members of the Council offered their assistance when they could, but even they had warned him it would take time and experience, since he wasn’t born into magic as the rest of them were. He was thankful that he was able to get away from the the human city to the seclusion of the temple belonging to Orpheus’s family to practice. Trying to learn how to master magic amongst humans wasn’t a bright idea, and he wouldn’t entertain it. But, even at the temple, he wasn’t so certain he was ready to be on his own the handful of times Orpheus’s new godly status called him away. Maybe it was just missing him, now that they were married.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, love,” Orpheus would promise him, before giving him a kiss and slipping through a portal. Uriah had said goodbye to him the day before in a similar manner. Something about territory disputes, Orpheus had said; it would hopefully be resolved within two or three days.

Uriah sighed and leaned heavily against a sturdy stone pillar, fiddling with the clothing he’d been gifted from the Council. He wasn’t sure if there was any significance or importance to them, but at least they were comfortable.

A soft chime got his attention, and Uriah looked up to see one of the nightbell sprites that served Orpheus’s family—those who had been night god, respectfully.

“Pollux?”

He held out his palms for the tiny creature to land in, watching it shake its furry body and sit up on its haunches to chime again.

“Sorry, I, uh...don’t speak sprite. Not yet, anyway.”

Pollux’s ears flopped. He waved a paw vaguely towards the entrance of the temple. Uriah quirked up one eyebrow and followed his gesture.

“Is somebody here?”

An affirmative jingle.

“Huh. Not Eden or Atheer, though, right? Aren’t you kind of Atheer’s pet anyway?”

The tiny creature mustered up as best a shrug as his anatomy allowed.

“Well, guess we gotta check it out.”

Uriah set Pollux on his shoulder and made his way through the temple, hesitating only when he heard movement from the receiving chamber towards the entryway. He questioned whether he should make his presence known. He himself wasn’t a god or deity, and all of Orpheus’s relations were away for one reason or another. No one else was with him if this visitor wasn’t the friendly sort...

“Hello? I have a matter to discuss with Night God Orpheus!”

Uriah glanced down at Pollux with an unsure frown. A violent intruder wouldn’t make themselves openly known, would they? And for the most part, the pantheon seemed to respect his position as a spouse of a god. Maybe he could handle this?

Uriah straightened himself and proceeded out. He was Orpheus’s husband. He should be able to handle himself whether his husband was there or not; it would be an insult to Orpheus’s position if he needed to rely on him for everything.

“Hello—“

“This is his temple, but I’m afraid Night God Orpheus is busy with other matters,” Uriah spoke up, descending the stairs that sat on either side of the throne centered at the top of the far side of the chamber. The stranger turned, and seemed to puzzle at him for a moment. Uriah took him in carefully: a naga, and most likely from an old bloodline seeing has he had horns and four arms as Orpheus and his relatives did. His scales were a midnight black, shining like obsidian, but his skin was pale. He had dark, piercing eyes and hair as dark as his scales. He could vaguely identify him as some sort of shadow deity, and he remembered Orpheus had warned about being cautious with them. Uriah kept stopped halfway down the stairs, standing between the throne and the visitor.

“If you’d like, I can deliver a message,” Uriah added. Pollux remained perched on his shoulder, quiet, whiskers flared as he sniffed the air. The naga looked at him quizzically.

“You look like a mortal, and yet...”

Uriah didn’t respond.

“Ah, you must be his husband, then, the one the pantheon keeps gossiping about,” the naga said. His tone seemed...cordial. Uriah wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I am.”

“Well, then, it is a pleasure to finally meet the one that all the fuss is about!”

Pollux gave a small snort. Uriah glanced down at him, making note of the tension in his whiskers.

“And you are supposed to be...?”

“Forgive me, where are my manners? I am Erebos, heir to the Shadow God’s title.”

He slid a few paces forward and extended a clawed hand. Uriah didn’t move from his place, remaining skeptical.

“You were saying you had business with my husband, Erebos?”

The naga slowly retracted his hand. There was a hint of offense noted in his gaze. Pollux’s fur began to rise. Uriah raised a hand and gently stroked a finger beneath his chin, hushing him.

“Yes. A matter of politics. Is he here? I should like to discuss it with him directly.”

Erebos moved slightly to the side, and Uriah stepped over into his path, blocking him.

“I’m sorry, but my husband is busy at this time. You’ll have to come back later, or I can tell him you came by and he can meet you.”

“He’s busy, you said?” Erebos cocked his head slightly, eyeing Uriah. The man tried his best not to waiver in stature. “Then that means he isn’t here.”

He did not like that tone. There was something malicious in it. Dangerous. Pollux bristled, startling Uriah for a moment as he took off with a clear peal of a bell and zipped out of the chamber. When he returned his attention to Erebos, the naga had ascended the stairs, and was nearly eye level with him thanks to his height. Uriah stepped back instinctively.

“I told you that he can’t speak to you now. You need to go.”

“I heard you. But I also heard you offer to deliver a message in my stead. And I have quite the message to give,” Erebos said coolly, one pair of his hands folding behind his back as he slid around Uriah’s side, cutting him off and forcing him between the naga and the rest of his long, scaled body. Uriah frowned up at him and furrowed his brow.

“You need to leave. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

“And what, pray tell, do you intend to do to make me leave, hmm? Rumor has it that you’re still weak, still new. All that power and you have no idea how to use it...”

Erebos smirked down at him, reaching out and grasping his jaw firmly.

“But you are pretty, for a mortal. No wonder he likes you.”

Uriah slapped his hand away and scowled. His fists shook at his sides.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Erebos chuckled.

“Do you know much about the Shadow deities, mortal? We have a long history, but a great deal of the world has forgotten our importance,” the naga drawled, briefly turning his attention to the throne. He ran a hand along its smooth, polished stone, tracing his claws along the edge of the arms, staring at it longingly. Uriah watched him carefully, all of his nerves burning.

“We used to have a claim to the powers of the night, you see,” Erebos went on, “until the family of that wretched husband of yours caused the split. How can we, beings of hidden secrets and all darkness, compete with those who have power over both the night and the celestial heavens?”

He turned his gaze on Uriah, sharp and cold.

“We’ve tried so hard, for centuries, to get back what we once had, but no. The Night gods always take what we want.”

“Clearly you’re going about it the wrong way,” Uriah retorted acidly. Erebos paused, smirked, and then erupted into laughter. It sent a chill down Uriah’s spine.

“Oh, how right you are!”

Before he could react, one of Erebos’s clawed hands lashed out at him. The back of his hand struck Uriah soundly across the face, sending him down. Uriah sprawled for a moment before catching himself, gasping at the raw, stinging pain that flooded his cheek. He felt something hot on his face, and after moving his hand, he realized one of Erebos’s claws had cut him. Uriah winced up at the naga as he began descending towards him.

“You have no idea how right you are, little mortal,” Erebos growled. “I’ve learned from my predecessors that going for the Night God directly simply isn’t enough. You have to hit them where it hurts.”

Uriah backpedaled from him. He remembered his magic. Maybe it could help him! He rose a hand and tried to feel the force both in him and in the temple grounds, visualizing a vine striking where he wanted it—but all that came was a thin root-like fiber that wilted almost as soon as it appeared. Erebos sneered.

“If there’s one thing I know about your husband, it’s his reputation as a lover. Did you know you managed to snag the most sought-after bachelor in the pantheon, hmm? He’s known to be fiercely loyal and romantic, and he takes heartache oh so heavily. Personally I find it a bit gauche.”

Uriah forced himself to his feet and evaded a strike from the naga, but stumbled and just barely caught himself on the throne. He turned over just as Erebos lunged a second time, cornering him.

“And I think, precious tiny mortal, that perhaps the best way to hurt your doting husband, is with you.”

Uriah threw a fist at his face, but the naga caught him by the wrist. Erebos tutted, and then slammed his own fist into Uriah’s face. He cried out in pain, doubling over as he felt a bruise forming over his left eye; had he been wearing his glasses, there no doubt have been glass in his skin. Erebos dug a hand into his hair and yanked his face upwards, staring down smugly. He seemed to ponder a moment.

“Though I do wonder... Perhaps there’s a better way to do this, hmm? Oh, I could kill you easily enough, but where’s the fun in that? Your husband would moan and grieve, but he’d move on eventually. But to make it last...”

Uriah panted and stared up at him in pain.

“How much would your husband writhe if I took what was his?”

No. No, no, no...

“G-Get off of me!” Uriah spat, squirming as Erebos pinned him down. He could feel his tail weighing on his legs, forcing him flat onto the stone beneath him.

“I wonder how badly it would hurt him, if every time he wanted to touch you, he could only think of me touching you instead?”

“No!”

“The more you struggle, the more painful this will be. Well, for you, anyway,” Erebos taunted, claws teasing at Uriah’s throat.

He didn’t care if Orpheus wasn’t there. He didn’t care if he was thousands of miles away. He needed him. It was instinct.

“ORPHEUS!”

There was a flash in the chamber, and the sound of the air itself tearing open. Uriah wrenched his face towards it even as Erebos’s hand held his jaw. A portal. Orpheus’s portal. The god himself materialized in the room, eyes searching for only a second before comprehending the scene in front of him. Uriah twisted in Erebos’s hold and drove his knee into his middle, causing the naga to falter.

“Orpheus!”

“URIAH!”

Orpheus’s voice was a roar. Before Erebos could recover, he darted up the steps and threw his weight into him, sending the two of them sprawling in a whirl of roars and fangs and scales. They snarled at one another like rabid dogs, teeth flashing at each other’s throats. Orpheus gained the upper hand long enough to throw Erebos off of him, his body tumbling back down the stairs as Orpheus placed himself solidly between Uriah and the offending naga.

“You come to my temple, on my family’s ancestral grounds, and you attack my husband?! I’ll tear you apart!” Orpheus spat, shaking with rage. Erebos didn’t have a chance to retort with more than a violent hiss and bared fangs before Orpheus went for him a second time, catching his claws before sinking his own into Erebos’s shoulder. Uriah weakly pulled himself up onto his knees, using the throne for support. The two nagas were tangled with another in such a blur that he could only tell their upper bodies apart by the contrast of their hair and skin.

Erebos hissed and lashed at Orpheus’s torso with his tail, flicking it sharply like a whip. Orpheus cried out as his skin tore from the contact, recoiling and glaring. Uriah watched with his unbruised eye as Erebos prepared to lash out a second time.

“Orpheus! Watch out!”

“I’ll kill you,” Erebos snarled. “I’ll maim you, make you watch me take your mortal pet, and then I’ll kill you!”

Orpheus swore in his native tongue, hissing so loudly it hurt Uriah’s ears. He’d never seen his husband so enraged. He had to help him, somehow.

“Please work, please,” he pleaded, pressing a hand down to the stones and feeling for the hints of moss between them. He could feel the tie between the greenery and the ancient soil. It was there, right there...!

“Orpheus, move!” Uriah shouted. Orpheus looked back at him, and then back to Erebos, just before the stones between them trembled. Orpheus retreated, and Erebos lunged, and a violent eruption of vines and roots burst up to snare him. The naga roared in fury, writhing before Orpheus took him by the throat.

“You will never touch my husband again,” he snarled. “If you even think of it, I’ll give you a permanent reminder of what’s to come.”

There was a bloodcurdling scream as Orpheus tore his claws down one side of Erebos’s face, blood pouring from his eye before Orpheus threw him back to the mouth of the chamber.

“My eye! You! You wretch, you took my eye!”

“And I’ll take more if you don’t leave! Now!”

Erebos glared at Orpheus with his remaining eye.

“The Council will hear of this—“

“You’re damned right they will! Don’t forget that you came here and attacked my husband! Now get out, or the trial will be about your death!”

Erebos hissed, and Orpheus responded with another roar and a flash of nightfire that ran the entire length of the chamber.

“GET OUT!”

Finally, Erebos slunk off. Uriah exhaled and felt the last of the tension leave his body, leaning heavily against the stone throne next to him. He could fully feel the pain from Erebos’s strikes as the adrenaline wore off, and he whimpered as his blackened eye throbbed. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d started crying. Orpheus slithered to his side, lowering down and reaching out carefully.

“Uriah, look at me. Let me see your face,” he said urgently, cupping Uriah’s face in two of his hands. Uriah winced as Orpheus brushed his hair back.

“He hurt you,” Orpheus growled, brows knotted together in both anger and concern. “Did he touch you? He was on you when I got here, did he—“

“No,” Uriah answered tiredly. “H-He tried, but no. You got here before he could—“

Uriah shivered.

“I-I tried to fight him, I swear I did. I couldn’t stop him, Orpheus...”

“I know,” Orpheus hushed, “I know you did, love.”

He held Uriah’s face gently and began whispering healing spells, brushing his fingertips gingerly along the bruise on his face. Uriah winced and shuddered, still unused to the sensation even after so many years with Orpheus.

“H-How did you know?”

“What?”

“How did you know something was wrong?” Uriah asked. “I-I couldn’t contact you.”

“Pollux found me.”

A faint chime rang in the chamber, and Uriah looked over as the little sprite settled down onto the stone beside both of them.

“Pollux!”

Uriah set a hand down, letting the sprite climb up his arm. Pollux nuzzled him and jingled softy.

“Good boy,” Uriah praised, bending his face into the tiny creature’s nuzzling. “Good boy, Pollux. Atheer trained you well.”

“Yes, he absolutely did,” Orpheus said gratefully, reaching up to stroke a finger down the sprite’s spine. “I’m sure Father will be wanting him back soon, though.”

He sighed suddenly and looked to Uriah, his face softened with worry and remorse. Orpheus brushed a hand through Uriah’s hair, and traced his slowly healing face. He didn’t even care about his own stinging wounds. He leaned forward and pulled him close, holding him so tightly Uriah could feel him shaking. Pollux fluttered down to the floor and watched with a sad whistle.

“I’m so sorry, Uriah.”

“Orpheus...”

“I should have taken more precautions. I was arrogant in thinking my title would protect you when I’m not there. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Uriah said firmly, even surprising himself. He held Orpheus back and squeezed. “That bastard came here wanting to start something. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were here, or if your family was here either. He wanted to hurt you.”

“And he tried to do it by harming you...”

Orpheus pulled his head back and looked into Uriah’s face. He felt so angry and ashamed seeing the bruises there, and knowing how helpless his husband would’ve been if he hadn’t been alerted in time.

“I’m going to ask my father if there’s a way you can reach me when I’m gone. I won’t leave you alone again, not until I have a better way to protect you. I will never let anyone hurt you again, I promise.”

Uriah brushed his hand against Orpheus’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together.

“There will be a trial. The Council will want to know what happened. Will you be alright facing him a second time?”

“As long as you’re there,” Uriah said, nodding. “Wait, my injuries... They’ll need to know. How will they if your magic is healing me?”

“Trauma lingers in beings’ auras. The Council will have someone gifted in such sight to determine if your injuries correlate to your story and mine. Words can lie, but your being’s energy will not. And I won’t stand for you being in pain any longer than you need to be.”

Orpheus kissed his forehead and helped him up, lifting him to avoid any further strain. They’d both need rest in order to recover.

—

The trial came as Orpheus had said it would. Facing Erebos a second time was unnerving, but Uriah carried himself well; his husband couldn’t have been prouder of him. Erebos was swiftly found to be wholly at fault, his rank and title stripped. The shadow deities would need to find a new heir to their leading god, now that he was banned from inheriting it.

As for the protection Orpheus promised, he was grateful to his father for informing him of a talented fortune deity who specialized in charmed items. Orpheus borrowed Uriah’s wedding band for only as long as necessary, returning it to him once a channeling charm had been placed upon it.

“You can call for me whenever you need me,” Orpheus explained, sliding the band back onto his husband’s finger. “I will hear you, and I will know where you are. You will never need to worry about being alone and unprotected. Whatever happens, wherever you are, I will come for you.”

Uriah admired the ring again. He would always be proud of it, of everything it meant. He held out his hand for Orpheus’s and slid his ring back on as well, raising it to his lips to kiss the band.

“We’ll be okay,” Uriah said soothingly, holding Orpheus’s hand close. His husband bent his head down and nuzzled him, squeezing his hands.

“Yes,” Orpheus sighed against him, “we will.”

[simsadventures]

Knight in Shinning Armour

Summary: You and Bucky tiptoe around each other for the longest time, unable to follow your hearts, until the compound gets attacked and one of you gets hurt, that is.

Warnings: mutual pining, angst, fluff, smut, sexy talk (whatever I mean by that), implied smut

Pairing: Bucky x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2333

A/N: This little story was requested by the sweet @rainbowunicorns92 (who I can’t seem to be able tag, for some bloody reason) and I’m horrible for taking so long to actually write it! Also, I wasn’t feeling too smutty, so I hope this will be ok. So so sorry love, hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless, and that it is what you asked for :) Hope everyone else will enjoy reading it as well, and you know, feedback is gold so please, tell me what you thought :) xx

P.S.: I chose Lion King as the go to movie, because that’s my all time favourite. Don’t judge me :D

Full Request: Hello! I was the awkward turtle that ask if you take requests haha🙈 but I was wondering if I could request a Bucky x plus size reader where the reader is really sweet, shy, insecure and a Disney nerd and one day the Avengers compound gets attack and the reader gets hurt and Bucky confess his love to her? Fluffy smut? I’m sorry this is a hot mess haha! I’m new to this haha! Merry Christmas 💘🎄☃️❄️

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

It was another quiet evening in the compound. You were seated in your favourite armchair in the common room, snuggled in your plush grey blanket with a cup of tea in your hand, watching the Lion King for the 1000 times.

You wouldn’t say you were addicted to Disney movies, you just liked them better than any other movies. Easy as that. You were at the part which always got you, Mufasa’s death, and even though you knew it would happen, tears welled up in your eyes. You just hated to see little Simba teary-eyed, trying to wake up his dad.

You felt somebody’s presence behind you, and when you turned around, you could see Bucky leaning against the door frame, watching the television with a frown on his face. You tried to make yourself invisible.

You had this big fat crush on Bucky ever since you joined the team as another super-soldier, even though your super strength didn’t reside in your body, but in your mind. And the little rolls of fat on your stomach were a great example of that. Not that you hated the way you looked, it was just that you weren’t exactly the top-model type, let’s say like Natasha or Wanda. You were just… you. And you were sure that somebody like Bucky would never go for somebody like you, so you just never said anything.

Staying friends with him was just fine with you, at least you tried to make yourself believe that. You definitely didn’t need him to think you were some weirdo who watched Disney movies all the time, being able to quote most of them line by line, singing all the songs.

You tried to reach for the remote control and switch it off, but then you heard Bucky say something under his breath, which sounded awfully like why the hell did he let those wildebeest stamp on him.

You raised your eyebrow and let the movie play, trying to see if you heard right. Your suspicion was real enough because, in a few minutes, Bucky was seated on the nearest couches to you, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“What kind of a fairytale is this? His dad just fucking died!” Bucky mumbled, his forehead still crunched, pout on his lips.

You snorted out a laugh, which made Bucky look at you and his frown even deepened.

“Why are you laughing, doll? This ain’t funny! This is fucking heartbreaking, and I’m not sure I wanna see more of this movie!”

“C’mon, Buck. I promise it’s only gonna get better. But this tragedy had to be there for the story to unfold properly, you know? And it also teaches us that we can lose those we value the most in a heartbeat and that we should really waste no time in telling them just how much they mean to us.”

By the time you finished your little speech, you weren’t sure if you were still talking about the movie, or if you were suggesting something a little deeper. You bit your lower lip, returning your attention back to the television as if you just didn’t have that little outburst.

You could see from the corner of your eye that Bucky was still watching, his sole attention on you. You knew that if he figured out what you were feeling, things would change between the two of you, and not for the better. And you didn’t want to risk your friendship for something as stupid as love. It just wasn’t worth it for you.

You could hear Bucky taking in a breath, and you just hoped he would turn back to the TV and let it go. But that wouldn’t be Bucky.

“Look, Y/N, are you talking just about the film? Or are you referring to something else as well?”

You shook your head, your eyes still glued to the screen.

“Nope, just the Lion King. What else could I possibly have in mind?” You asked, trying to sound as incredulous as possible, hoping your acting performance was good enough for Bucky to stop bugging you.

“Well, I-“

Crash

“The Avengers Compound is under attack. I repeat. The Avengers Compound is under attack. The left-wing has been compromised,” sounded from the speakers, as FRIDAY gave you a report on the attack.

You and Bucky exchanged horrified looks, before you both jumped out of your seats, running towards the left-wing. You were not as fast as Bucky, even though you’ve been trying to get in better shape lately.

You could see he was holding back for you, not running to the best of his abilities.

“Go, Bucky! I’m right behind you, but you need to go and try to have a look at what the fuck is happening,” you yelled at him, trying to be louder than the sirens booming across the whole building. Across the hall, you could see Steve running like a madman with his shield in his hand.

“What if something happens to you, Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking back at you.

A smile spread on your face, and you shook your head at him. “I’m an avenger as well, Buck. I’ll be just fine. Just go and be a hero before Steve gets all the praise!”

Bucky laughed at that, and checked you once again, trying to look for any hesitation in your features. When he couldn’t find none, he nodded, his face going rigid, preparing for the fight. He put on the full mode of his speed, and before you knew it, you were alone in the hall.

Well, not completely alone. You were about to turn the corner when you heard rustling from the other side of the hallway. You swiftly turned around, only to see a guy all in white running towards you, with a machete in his hand.

You only had time to duck, gasp leaving your lips as you did so. When you came back up, you felt an elbow hitting your ribs and a dull pain that followed and spread through your whole chest.

Your powers, being close to telekinesis, suddenly came in handy big time. Before he could hit you again, or worse, impale you on his fucking machete, you sent him flying against the opposite wall. The attacker tried to run towards you once again, but you were prepared this time.

Instead of sending him against a wall, you sent him flying out of the nearest window, shattering it in process. He fell through with a shout, and you had a little while for yourself, checking if your ribs were broken, but the only thing you could tell was that it hurt like hell and that if nothing else, the bruise would be massive.

You hissed as your fingers brushed against the skin on your ribcage, making a mental note to have somebody check it once this shitshow was over.

You wanted to get to running, but the pain shooting through your whole body wouldn’t let you do that. So you settled for a high-tempo walk, breathing through your mouth, and probably sounding like one of those crazy runners you often met in Central Park. All you could hear was whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, and if you weren’t in a deadly situation, you would probably even laugh.

You reached the left-wing corridor pretty soon, seeing that your fellow Avengers had it mostly under control. But just to be sure, you swiped a few guys against the walls, hard enough to knock them out.

Bucky was just fighting one of those attackers when he suddenly stood alone, his attacked splashed against the wall, falling down like a sack of potatoes. He knew it meant you were there, and you were ok, and he let himself relax a little.

Ever since he left you in that corridor, he had this uneasy feeling of you getting hurt while he wasn’t there, but from the looks of the guys passed out on the floor, you were as good as new.

He turned around to face you and smiled at you before he marched towards you and hugged you tightly. He had never done something so bold with you, but he just couldn’t help his giddiness. You were alright, and that was pretty much all that mattered.

It was only when you hissed almost inaudibly, and if he weren’t a super-soldier, he would have probably missed it. But he didn’t, and so he pulled away from you, inspecting your face. He could see you were trying to have a brave face, but underneath this courageous mask, you were hiding pain. And his blood started to boil.

“Where are you hurt? Who hurt you? Talk to me, Y/N!” Bucky almost shouted in your face, and you had to blink a few times from all that was happening. First, he hugged you as if his life depended on it, and now his seething face was all you saw.

“I’m fine, Bucky. Some idiot jabbed me in my ribs, but other than that, I’m good. I sent him on a flight from one of the windows, so I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“I don’t have to worry about it? Are you fucking kidding me? He could’ve killed you! He could’ve killed the woman I love, and I wasn’t even there to protect you. So don’t tell me to not fucking worry about it. I’m gonna find him, and I’m gonna rip his limbs off of his body, one by one. He’ll wish he never even looked your way!”

Bucky hissed and wanted to march out of the room and towards the window you were talking about, but a soft hand on his chest stopped him in his tracks. He looked at the hand, and then at your face, which looked like a mix of awe and happiness.

“What did you just say?” You asked quietly, not really trusting your own voice at the moment. Bucky, the man you wanted more than anything in the world just told you he loved you, and you were sure as hell gonna address it. It was now or never.

“I said I’m gonna kill-“

“Yeah, I don’t mean that. I mean, what did you say about me? Did you mean it?” You tried not to be too hopeful, but your heart was failing you. Hard.

Bucky seemed puzzled until he realised what he just said out loud for the first time.

“I-uh, yeah, that! I mean, I like you, Y/N, like, you’re kinda amazing, but if you wanna be just-“

You didn’t even let him finish his rambling and pulled him closer by his collar, and kissing him passionately. Your shyness was suddenly nowhere to be found, Bucky’s love confession pouring new-found confidence to your system.

You were starting to worry that he wouldn’t kiss you back, but just as you were pulling away, beginning to feel the disappointment kicking in, his left arm snaked around your hips, pulling you closer, while his right hand found its way to the back of your head, cradling it, and interweaving his fingers with your hair.

He pulled your hair from its roots ever so slightly, but the pressure on your scalp made you gasp into his mouth, giving Bucky the perfect access to your tongue. He kissed you with so much fervour, taking your breath away by every swipe of his tongue against yours.

You were putty in his arms, and you were just kissing. You just hoped this could be continued in one of your apartments because the fire he ignited in your body could not be put down easily. In fact, there was only one thing that would satisfy you, and it was now well hidden in Bucky’s pants.

Bucky’s mind probably wandered the same way as yours, because he suddenly hauled you in his arms, and started to walk away from the mess left behind after the attackers. From the corner of your eye, you could see your teammates watching you with raised eyebrows, but they had enough of their own issues to care that the two of you finally admitted your very obvious crushes.

“Bucky, let me down. I’m too heavy for you to carry,” you whisper against his neck, sucking a hickey there.

Bucky stopped immediately, making you look up at him.

“Stop talking like that. You’re light as a feather for me, and I would be damned to let my dame walk such distance!” He scoffed and returned to walking. You giggled like a schoolgirl, letting him do as he pleased. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t another confidence boost for you, that Bucky didn’t see you as this big girl, and was willing you carry you anywhere. Ok, maybe now just to his bedroom, but still.

When you finally reached his door, Bucky was panting heavily, and it was not from your weight. You could feel his very hard member pressing against his pants, and right against your ass, which was bouncing as Bucky walked, adding another pleasure to his body.

“You keep wiggling that cute ass of yours a little longer, and Imma take you right against this door,” Bucky hissed to your ear.

Bucky pressed you against the wall next to his door, trying to fight with the door handle, but because he pushed you a little too hard, his enthusiasm evident from his moves, you hissed in pain again.

He let you to your legs immediately, cradling your face in his hands.

“Did I hurt you? Talk to me, doll.”

You smiled and kissed his nose sweetly. “Maybe let’s just not have crazy rough passionate sex tonight, huh?”

Bucky smiled at you like you were his sun, and caressed your cheek.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Good, but also promise that once I’m all healed, you’ll give it to me good!”

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back before he looked back at you and winked.

“Oh, you bet doll. You fucking bet!”

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[percontaion-points]

Raven King chapter 15

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 15

The ride was silent, but the first sight of Castle Evermore had Neil's blood humming in recognition. Evermore looked more like a monument than a stadium, and its jet-black paint job made it even more imposing. It was half-again as big as the Foxhole Court.

WE GET IT, THEY'RE EVIL. MOVE ON ALREADY.

I'm fucking tired of seeing this bullshit.

A line of cars was already parked at the curb. Neil wished he was surprised that they were all identical. Even the custom license plates were only a couple digits off from each other. Neil stared hard at them until he thought he figured out the sequence. The EA had to be Edgar Allan, and the numbers following

were class years and jersey numbers.

"This isn't a team," Neil said. "It's a cult."

Well, somebody had to fucking say it.

"Take a look at the sky. You won't see it again until you leave."

"I've seen it," Neil said.

Nothing quite like some illegal restraint.

It might have been Neil's decision to go, but that doesn't mean he wasn't under the threat of his friend being murdered.

"I can't even keep my ten?" Neil asked.

"Unimportant Ravens wear double-digits," Jean said. "Riko's inner circle does not.”

I feel like I'm past the point where I'm pointing out how innacurate that this is. I DON'T EVEN LIKE SPORTS, BUT I SOMEHOW KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM THAN THE LADY WHO WROTE A SPORT SERIES.

Tetsuji didn't stop beating him until he finally passed out.

CAN'T POSSIBLY IMAGINE WHY PEOPLE WOULD WANT TO LEAVE THIS TEAM. IT'S GOT SUCH NICE PEOPLE WHO DON'T BEAT PEOPLE INTO BLACKING OUT.

The Ravens' afternoon practice ran for four hours, and Neil was in no shape for any of it. He'd been unconscious through the two hours the Ravens took for lunch; he only woke when Jean dumped a pitcher of icy water over his head. Neil was too delirious and sore to get changed out, so Jean had to force most of the gear onto him. Neil struggled, but Jean dug cruel fingers into Neil's fresh bruises to stop him. Jean had to haul Neil up to the court. It wasn't until Jean shoved a racquet into his hands that Neil truly realized that yes, he was expected to play.

They put him on as a backliner, and Neil failed spectacularly. He hadn't played defense in almost nine years and he was in too bad of shape to keep up with Riko. Every time Riko made it past him, Riko hit Neil with his racquet. Exy armor was meant to guard against fast-moving balls and body-checks, not malicious blows from heavy racquets. By an hour into practice Neil was stumbling over his own feet.

Wow, it's almost like when you beat somebody senseless, they aren't at their best a few hours later or something. How weird is that?

Trigger warning: Graphic descriptions of torture

Riko slipped the knife into Neil's mouth and pushed, hard enough to break the skin at the corner of Neil's mouth but not deep enough to do any real damage.

Do you want to know what this story 100% needed? A long scene of Riko tying Neil to the bed and mutilating him with a knife. /ALL THE GODDAMNED SARCASM

"When it's too much for you, don't hesitate to cry."

Chapter 15 summary: So I guess the only person who knows Neil is going to spend Christmas with Riko is Kevin. Neil kind of sits around as the others pack up for their own holiday plans. Neil then pretends to get off of a phone call with somebody, and tells Nicky that it was his uncle, who is going to Arizona for the holidays. Neil goes on and says his mom sent him a ticket to come out over the break. Nicky says that the others can keep an eye on Kevin while Neil is gone, and that he should go. However, as Neil is packing, he's surprised that he's got so much stuff now. He decides to leave his emergency money binder in Kevin's care.

An unholy amount of time is spent describing Neil waiting at the airport. The flight isn't long, and he's picked up by Jean at the airport. They go to the stadium, where there's randomly an entire basement dorm area. Everything is decorated in shades of EBUL and even the lights are red, and I'm so fucking bored with this. Jean shows him where he'll be staying, and Neil is deeply disturbed to find a shrine to the life Kevin once had there.

They go upstairs, where Riko stops the morning practice. He and Jean give Neil a Raven's jersey with Neil's surname printed on the back, which Neil refuses. Turns out that they're randomly taking Neil, and nobody bothered to ask him. Since he's a doormat, Neil is putting up exactly zero effort to get out of any of this. They also randomly say that David is Kevin's father, but they don't think David knows. Kevin found a letter in “Master's” house. They act like it doesn't care, but Neil is insanely bothered by the entire thing.

The team's coach aka “master” comes in and randomly beats Neil until he blacks out simply because Neil refused to kneel before him. Neil is awoken a few hours later and forced to play a different role than he had been doing with the foxes. He's terrible at it, if only because of the beating he got earlier.

Kevin had originally shared a room with Riko, and as the ravens break for the night, Neil thinks about how much Kevin must have suffered with Riko for years and years. Neil tells Riko to stay away from him, but Riko ignores him, and starts to torture Neil with a knife.