#and if i did i fear how my mind will take it :(

[natsaffection]

hello, i have a like fic request for you. i’ve written something similar myself but i wanted to see how you’d write it 🥹

my idea is that Nat has touch-trauma from her time in the Red Room, she has no problem with faking it for missions and such, but when it comes to people she cares about, she can’t do it. reader’s love language is physical touch but tries her best to be respectful towards Nat’s trauma and lets her take the time she needs to want to be physically affectionate with reader.

you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to, just a little idea for you 🫶🏼

- 🤍

Quiet Hands. | N.R

Warnings: Redroom, mention of SA and violence

Word count: 1,7k

A/n: I love delving deeper into her character. And I also believe that she would act that way, so thank you for the request. <3

The Red Room never truly let its ghosts rest.

Even years later, when the sharp sting of the widow’s bite no longer buzzed at her wrists and the tightness of a chokehold wasn’t a constant memory pressing into her skin, Natasha still carried it with her, the ache, the stiffness in her shoulders, the quiet dread in the back of her mind.

It wasn’t the physical pain that lingered. That had faded, eventually. Scars healed. Bruises faded. Skin mended. But the things that no one could see, the hollow of her chest, the phantom echoes of commands spoken in cold Russian, the way her own hands sometimes felt foreign, those were the things that didn’t fade.

In the Red Room, affection was a weapon. A calculated tilt of the head. A gentle smile designed to lure someone in before striking. Touch was a means to an end, never something that could be given freely. They trained it into her: You are a tool, not a person. Your body is a weapon, not a home.

And so, when she left, escaped, the thought of anyone touching her, really touching her, felt unbearable. Not on missions. She could pretend there. Slip into a role. Smile. Wink. Let hands graze over her skin, because it was an act, a performance, and performances had endings.

But with people who mattered? People she cared about? That was different. That was terrifying.

And then you came around the corner. She met you by accident, it was a rainy afternoon in New York, the sky low and heavy, clouds rolling in like waves. Natasha had been trying to outrun her own thoughts, slipping through the crowded streets, a hood pulled low over her hair, just another face in the crowd.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You were balancing a cardboard tray of coffee cups, navigating the slick pavement, too focused on not spilling your order to notice the world around you. That’s when it happened, a shoulder bump, a stumble, the sound of a cup hitting the ground, liquid splashing onto the street.

“Sorry-” Natasha turned, an apology on her lips, but the words caught in her throat. Because you were looking at her with wide eyes, lips parted, a laugh bubbling up even as coffee dripped down your fingers. There was no fear in your gaze, no calculated interest, just… warmth.

“It’s okay!” you said quickly, waving off Natasha’s murmured apology, “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Typical, honestly.”

There was something in your voice, a soft, unhurried kindness. Like you weren’t in a rush to be anywhere else. Like you weren’t measuring Natasha’s worth in tactical terms or waiting for her to make the next move.

Natasha found herself saying, “Let me buy you a new coffee.”

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You don’t have to do that..”

“I want to.” Natasha replied, surprising even herself with the honesty of it.

So she did. The two of you walked to the café together, the rain easing into a gentle drizzle, Natasha holding the door open for you, your fingers brushing briefly, just for a moment. A jolt ran through Natasha’s chest, sharp, unexpected. You didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe you did, and you were just good at pretending.

You exchanged names while waiting for your drinks, your voice soft, easy, Natasha’s a little rough around the edges, guarded but curious. You told her you were a student, studying art history, working part-time at a gallery nearby. Natasha didn’t share much, couldn’t, really, but you didn’t push.

Instead, you talked about a painting you loved. How you could spend hours staring at brushstrokes, how art felt like a conversation with the past. Natasha listened, really listened, the weight in her chest easing just a little.

When you parted, you smiled, really smiled, not the polite kind you give to strangers, and said, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Natasha wasn’t sure why she wanted so badly for that to happen. It did happen, again and again.

Little things. Running into each other on the street. Bumping into one another at the same café. A quiet conversation here, a lingering glance there. Slowly, carefully, Natasha let herself be drawn into your orbit, never fully, always cautious, but there.

It took weeks, long, tentative weeks, before Natasha worked up the courage to ask you out for dinner. And it took two months for Natasha to call you her girlfriend.

Two months of trying. Of sitting on the couch with you and not leaning into your touch, even though every cell in her body screamed for it, wanted it, but couldn’t.

Because the truth was, Natasha could fake it with anyone else. She could play a role, slip into a part. But with you, she didn’t want to pretend. She wanted to be real.

And the real her couldn’t handle touch, not yet. You weren’t naïve. You knew who she was, the Black Widow. The ex-assassin. The spy. You had read the articles, the sanitized versions, the headlines that only hinted at the things Natasha had done, the things she had survived.

But none of that could have prepared you for the truth, the raw, unspoken reality that lived in the tight line of Natasha’s shoulders, the way she sometimes seemed to fold into herself when you so much as shifted too close on the couch.

The first time it happened, when you had, without thinking, brushed your hand across Natasha’s back, just a soft touch, barely a whisper, she had gone rigid. You had felt it, like a physical shock.

Natasha had frozen, her breath caught halfway in her throat, her body stiff as if she were bracing for a blow. You had pulled your hand back instantly, your own heart cracking just a little.

“I’m sorry..” you had whispered, voice barely audible.

Natasha’s lips had twitched into something like a smile, but her eyes didn’t quite match. “It’s not you.”

And you knew that. God, you knew. But it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the quiet, desperate longing for closeness.

You were a touch person, always had been. Hugs that lingered. Hands that reached for others without thinking. Leaning into people when you laughed. It was how you loved, with your body as much as your words.

And you loved Natasha.

You loved her in the way you could only love someone when you saw all the cracks and scars and still thought they were beautiful. You loved the sharpness in Natasha’s eyes when she was focused, the quiet way she listened when you talked about art or the latest exhibition at the gallery. You loved the way her voice softened late at night, when the world was dark and quiet.

But God, you wanted her. Not even in a sexual way, not really, not yet. You just wanted to be close. To hold her hand without feeling her flinch. To pull her into a hug without watching her body go still, waiting for permission that never seemed to come.

It was hard. Hard not to reach out when you sat side by side on the couch, your thighs just barely brushing, and your fingers itched to lace through hers.

Hard not to lean in when Natasha laughed, that rare, genuine laugh that made your chest feel too small for your heart. Hard to fall asleep next to her and feel the warmth of her body but not the closeness. To lie there in the dark, eyes wide open, your body aching to touch, but not daring to.

You tried. You tried so hard to be patient. Because you saw it, the effort Natasha made. How sometimes, when she was brave, her fingers would hover, barely grazing your wrist, like she was testing the water. How, every now and then, she would let you brush your shoulders together, not pulling away, just breathing through it.

And you never wanted to make her feel trapped. Never wanted to take more than Natasha could give. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, it hurt.

It was late one night, the rain tapping softly against the window. You were in Natasha’s apartment, she was curled in a chair, reading, and you were on the couch, half-heartedly scrolling through your phone.

The distance felt heavy. You stared at Natasha’s profile, the way her hair fell loose around her face, the faint shadow of a bruise on her temple from a mission she wouldn’t talk about. She looked so alone, even in a room you shared.

Your chest ached with it. And before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, soft, hesitant, but heavy with feeling:

“Can I..can I hold you?”

Natasha looked up sharply, eyes wide, the book slipping slightly in her hands.

You felt your breath catch. You tried to smile, to make it light, but your voice cracked when you added, “Just… just a hug. You don’t have to. I just… I miss you.”

It wasn’t fair, you knew that. It wasn’t fair to ask. Natasha stared at you for a long moment, her eyes dark and guarded, a storm behind them.

Then, slowly, so slowly, she set the book down. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, and your heart twisted.

“I’m sorry..” you whispered, already regretting it, “You don’t have to-”

But Natasha moved. Carefully, stiffly, like she was walking across broken glass, she rose from the chair and sat beside you on the couch, leaving a careful inch between you. Her body was tense, like a wire pulled taut.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. After a long moment, Natasha whispered, so soft you almost missed it, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Your heart broke, not in a shattering, painful way, but in the quiet, aching way that made you want to hold someone even tighter.

You turned, just slightly, your voice trembling as you said, “That’s okay. We can take it slow. I’m here.”

And you were. You sat there, still, your hands folded in your lap, letting Natasha choose. Letting her try.

And after a long, heavy pause, Natasha’s hand reached out, shaking, tentative, and hovered over yours. Not quite touching. Just close enough that you could feel the heat of her skin.

It wasn’t a hug. It wasn’t even really a touch. But it was something. And you would take it.

Because love wasn’t always soft and easy. Sometimes, it was patience. Sometimes, it was waiting. And for Natasha, you would wait as long as it took.

-

-

-

-

[noxemma]

@colorlessjay thank you so much for the awesome story idea and the inspiration for the title, I really dig the idea of a romance in reverse (I'm not a phenomenal artist but this came to me in a vision, so I had to give it a go 😂). Hopefully you enjoy this next installment (Cas POV this time) as much as the last ones

---

Steering through the Rearview: A Romance in Reverse

First comes love a kid(napping), then comes a marriage ... Yeah, they're definitely doing things in the wrong order, but maybe, if they're lucky, they can figure out how to reverse their way into something real.

---

Castiel takes the hint when Dean turns up the music. Not that he minds; he's not sure what had possessed him to say those words to Dean.

That's not entirely true, Castiel mentally chastises himself. Dean's words may have been gruff and stained with anger, but his eyes. His eyes had been sad and full of ... Caged hope? No, that doesn't sound quite right. It's not caged exactly, more like ... Castiel looks at Dean, searching for the right words to describe the beautiful and complicated man beside him.

Dean must feel him staring because he darts a quick, nervous smile his way. Hobbled, maybe. Unable to run free, but still wild and wanting inside.

"What? Do I have somethin' on my face?" Dean asks, turning the music down and letting out a chuckle that sounds forced.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare, I just got ... lost in thought," Castiel rushes to explain, trying to will the heat back down that he feels rushing to his cheeks. "Sam's written several stories about traveling. Lovely pieces full of nostalgia and wonder. I assume those were trips taken in this car, with you and your father?" "Uh," Dean starts, one hand coming off the wheel to rub at the back of his neck. A nervous habit, Castiel is quickly learning. "Yeah. I guess they must be. This was the most stable home we had for a good chunk of our childhood." Dean shoots a glance at Castiel, magnificent green eyes wide, like he's confessed something he shouldn't have, or didn't mean to. "That would make sense, then," Castiel responds with a warm smile that he hopes is reassuring.

He understands not wanting to talk about rocky childhoods. Or fathers, for that matter. So, while Dean's admission only stokes his already blazing curiosity about the man, he forces himself to let it go and let whatever band Dean has playing take over the conversation. To his surprise, Dean doesn't take the out, choosing instead to continue talking.

"Uh, Sam told me he, um, well, whenever I agreed to this, he told me that he wrote a lot about our childhood for your class. He also said you were ridiculously smart, so you'd probably be able to put some stuff together." Dean's not looking at him, but Castiel can see his hands tighten on the wheel and his shoulders tense. "He did," Castiel admits. "Although it is a creative writing class so I can't be sure how much is real and how much is fictional. But, well, we tend to write what we know. I try not to read too much into them, unless of course I'm worried a student might harm themselves or someone else. However, one story of his in particular does stand out."

"Yeah?" Dean's answer is breathless and high, compressed fear dampening the sound.

"It was about a boy and his brother and their father. They lived on the road, chasing down supernatural entities, trying to get revenge for their dead mother," Castiel tells him slowly, verbally approaching with his hands raised to show he means no harm. "It was really wonderful, best in the entire class, though I'm sure it was written with a heavy dose of creative license. Or did you really hunt monsters across the United States?"

Dean lets out a whoosh of air, relaxing back into the seat and letting color come back into his knuckles. "No. And, yes, kind of. Man, Sam has one hell of an imagination," Dean lets out a relieved laugh before continuing. "Mom died just a few months after Sam was born. House fire, or well, arson. The guy they think did it was a criminal who skipped out on his bail, but the police could never track him down. I think that's part of the reason why Sam is going into criminal law. Anyway, Dad took it hard and became a bounty hunter. It gave him a sense of purpose and resources to work on Mom's case in his spare time, for a little while anyway. But, as the years went by, and the leads went cold, he started taking comfort in a bottle. He was drunk when he totaled Baby. Nearly killed Sam and I." "You were in the car with him? How old were you?" Castiel manages to bite his tongue after the second question escapes his lips. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry." "Nah, it's okay. It's practically ancient history now. I was seventeen, Sam was thirteen. Dad kept insisting he was fine to drive, and I tried to argue. And I know I should have tried harder, or hidden his keys or something but, but there was just no getting through to him when he got that way ..." Dean's eyes go far away and Castiel is pretty sure he's seeing something other than the road. His jaw clenches and he gulps before he blinks, eyes refocusing. "Anyway, can't change the past. Sam was in the backseat, so he was the least hurt, which was a fucking miracle." "And you?" Castiel breathes, riveted and horrified as more pieces of Sam's writing slot into place; the pretty paint facade of fiction washing away from the story, revealing the uglier truth behind it. Dean rubs his neck again, hesitating before admitting, "I was in the hospital for over a week. Bobby and his wife Karen fostered us until I turned eighteen. Gave me a job at his junkyard and taught me how to be a mechanic. Helped me get my GED and paid for me to go to trade school and get my ASE certification. Not to mention he helped me petition the state for custody of Sam once I had full-time employment and an apartment in my name." Before he realizes what he's doing, Castiel's hand is on Dean's knee, squeezing reassuringly as he says, "I'm so sorry, Dean. No child should have to go through that. I'm glad you had someone like Bobby to help you." "Thanks, Cas. Me too. But, like I said, it's all ancient history now." They both know he's lying but Cas doesn't call him on it because he's too busy trying to remain calm when Dean lowers his hand to cover his own.

"Cas?" Castiel asks, cursing how breathy his voice sounds and pulling his hand slowly back into his own space before he does something irrational like skipping the wedding and just driving around for the next few days. "You've called me that a few times now."

"Yeah. Cas. You know, the shortened version of your name or, as it's more commonly known: a nickname," Dean rolls his eyes, laughing like Cas has made some great joke. He stops when Cas just stares at him in confusion. "Hang on, has no one really ever called you that before?" "Um. No?" Dean's mouth drops open, and he stares at Cas in the passenger seat for long enough that Cas is worried they might start to drift off the road if he doesn't snap him out of it. "My parents were, um, very formal and ... strict," Cas explains quickly, pitching his voice high in a poor imitation of Naomi, "'Castiel, if I wanted you to be called something else, I would have put it on your birth certificate.'" Dean let's out a snort and the cold dread, which had begun squeezing its icy fist around Cas' chest at the memory of the woman who gave birth to him, recedes at the sound. "Seriously? Man, I can't imagine if I had to run around calling Sam 'Samuel' for the rest of his life. What kind of name is Castiel anyway? European?"

"Biblical. My parents were also extremely religious. They named all of us after angels. Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer." "Damn, and here I was feeling bad about myself for being named after my grandmother, Deanna. Although at least you aren't Lucifer. Does he really go by that?"

"He went by Nick until he died few years ago. Or at least that's what Gabriel told me," Cas admits.

Dean shoots him another look but doesn't press. Instead, he mimics Cas' action from earlier, right hand coming off the wheel to squeeze his leg. He knows the action is supposed to be comforting, but knowing doesn't stop the heat sizzling up his veins.

Cas closes his eyes to fight against the feeling. It doesn't help; green eyes and freckles emblazon against the back of his eyelids.

How long has it been since someone, besides Charlie or my students or Jack, touched me, intentionally? Months? Years?

Cas stifles a groan. Because it doesn't matter. It's clearly been long enough that his body is responding disproportionately, and he has to stop it. Now. So, he starts talking about the one thing he knows for sure will kill any errant desire he's feeling.

"My parents disowned me when I came out to them. Gabriel is the only one who still speaks to me. He would have probably been disowned too if he hadn't kept the family name and become so successful so quickly. This wedding is actually the first time I'll be seeing any of them beside him in well over a decade now." "Shit, sorry, Cas," Dean blurts before chewing his lip and darting more glances his way, clearly debating something. "You can ask whatever it is you're wondering," Cas encourages, welcoming the distraction. "Uh, why are you going to this wedding then? I mean, I get that they're family, but well, to quote Bobby, 'family don't end in blood. And it don't start there either.'"

The voice Dean puts on when quoting his surrogate father wrings a laugh out of Cas and the dangerous heat of attraction is replaced with an equally dangerous, though less embarrassing, warmth centered father up his body.

"I'm getting the idea that Bobby was a very wise man. But, to answer your question: I'm going because Jack is actually my biological nephew. I was friends with Kelly, his mother, and I raised him like my own when she died from complications shortly after giving birth. She never put Lucifer on his birth certificate and her parents never contested her choice to name me his as his godfather and legal guardian. But, somehow, Naomi and Chuck have found out about him, and they are threatening to petition for custody of him if I don't show up."

"Why? On what grounds?" Dean explodes, barely contained fury adding a growl to the words that sends a tingle up his spine and forces him to shift in his seat. "I'm a single father and a man who wouldn't be able to afford the house I'm living in if it wasn't paid for by my more successful brother, and gay on top of that," Cas ticks off, "Plus a few others, I'm sure."

Dean stays silent, but rage radiates off him in heavy waves. Cas is just about to try and call off the whole ridiculous idea, sure Dean will agree now that he knows what he'll be up against, when Dean's face brightens and he pins Cas with a wild stare, stealing the breath he was about to use to speak.

"Hey, Cas. How do you feel about being fiancés?"

Cas, ever a pillar of grace and decorum, chokes on his own spit.

"Shit, sorry. You're Sam's favorite professor and I'm pretty sure he can kill me without leaving a trace, so please don't die!"

"Why-" Cas starts, coughing and gasping a few more times before managing to get the rest of the question out, "Why would you want to be my fiancé?" "Well, you're gorgeous and kind for one, so who wouldn't want to be your fiancé," Dean says with a wink at him and Cas is grateful that his face is already red from nearly choking to death on his own saliva. "But I was thinking, we were already going to pretend to be boyfriends, right? So why not go for gold? We can knock off at least two of those reasons you mentioned. I practically raised Sam so I'm no stranger to the whole parent thing. We become fiancés and suddenly you're a two parent, dual income household. I mean, I'm not rolling in wealth by any means, but I do okay enough, though most of the money I make doing restorations goes to helping Sam out with tuition, but they don't need to know that."

"But we don't know anything about each other, how would we be able to convince my parents that we're planning on getting married?" Cas challenges, not quite daring to hope that they might have a chance at pulling this off. "Well, we've got approximately five hours to figure it out. Plenty of time, plus we already know a lot about each other." Cas tilts his head and opens his mouth, but Dean answers his question before it can escape.

"You know that I have a younger brother who I raised, that I work as a mechanic and a car restoration expert, not to mention you apparently already described me to 'Uncle Gabe,'" Dean takes a breath and hurries on before Cas can interrupt, not that he would, "I know that your parents are mega douchebags who don't appreciate what an amazing son they have. I know that you're an English professor at Stanford and that you're an amazing dad, aside from a slight oversight in the stranger danger department. But most importantly, I know that Jack belongs with you and I'm willing to do whatever I can to help make that happen."

Cas' heart thuds in his chest at Dean's vehement declaration. "I- Thank you, Dean," Cas manages before his throat closes up entirely and he's blinking rapidly to keep the moisture forming in his eyes from falling onto his cheeks. "Great!" Dean chirps, flicking on his turn signal and changing lanes to speed around a slow-moving truck. "So, babe. How did we meet? Because, somehow, I feel like telling your folks that I accidentally kidnapped your son will be counterproductive."

[gay-dorito-dust]

what about the 'making you feel safe' prompt like u did for bob and the void-but for the sentry. p.s. love ur writing🙏🏽

I’m glad you like my stuff, thank you for taking the time to read them <3

The Sentry. The nuclear weapon in human skin. The unstoppable force. The golden guardian of good as he was called wasn't just a title he bore for the public, it applied to you too, and it was a title Sentry wanted to make good on time and time again until it was a known fact that he'd keep you safe no matter what. He was all powerful, invincible and strong enough to take out teams like the Avengers without much effort on his part, so of course he could keep you safe and promised to do so until it was a permament fixture within your head as well as his own.

Yet doubt was born despite of the absolute certainty that Sentry could always be relied upon to keep you guarded all the time.

'You know i'm strong enough, powerful even to keep you portected, so why do you still doubt that when it's nothing but the truth.' Sentry asked, geuinely baffled by how despite being shown countless times that you were near untouchable when tucked under his cape, you still couldn't help but think that you were just as vulnerable as you were without his protection.

'I'm not denying that your powerful, you can stop bullets, fly, molecular manipulation, minor pyschic abilties, i could go on about your powerset and feed that ego of yours but i can't help but fear that there's someone out there that midigate your own powers.' You tell him, resting your hands on his biceps, feeling him tense for a moment before relaxing under your touch, knowing the feeling of his eyes watching you closely all too well. 'i'm not worried about your abilties to protect me, i'm more worried about you protecting yourself.' You finished explaining yourself to the man inbuded in gold.

Sentry, having more then bought into the hype fabericated about him by others who didn't fully understand what he's capable of, only seemed more frustraighted from this hypothetical of yours and wondering if he was even doing enough to prove to you that he wasn't weak. Bob was weak, he could barely stand on his own two legs, raise his voice nor make his presence known, he was a shadow on the wall in comparrison to the radient being he was. So he wondered whether you still see Bob in him or just him as Bob even now after all this time; If so he needed to put an end to it and put it to rest.

'What threat could there be out there that could compare to me? none. i am keeping you safe and that's all that should matter.' Sentry tells you as his hands held onto your face, keeping you close like you seemingly wanted, looking deeply into your eyes as his thumb rubs over your jawline. 'I am the safest you'll ever be, no one out there can keep you protected, be the calm to your mind like i can and i'll always come out unscathed from any battle i face becuase i am unkillable.' He adds but it was clear that stating the obvious wasn't enough, you've seen firsthand of the things he's waved off that would've been the end of others, but the downside was that most of those he fought had minimal powers or none at all.

'Just because bullets, knives and widow bites don't hurt you doesn't mean you're unkillable. You just haven't found it yet and this big headedness that nothing can touch you will be your downfall also.' You tell him, wanting him to see through your eyes and drop this egotistical view of himself and reevaluate things, but you might as well have been talking to a brick wall as your words might as well be you casting doubt on a man who thought himself a literal god despite never fighting one. Sentry acts as though he could rip one in half and you blamed Valentina heavily for all this.

Sentry's jaw twitched. 'do i need to stop a runaway train, stop a bomb from exploding or even prevent a building from toppeling to prove you wrong?' He asks, voice tense as the air between you two grew thicker by the second.

'No i just need you to be safe!' you exclaimed, surpising you both but you kept at it, 'You act as though i'm doudting your power but i'm not. i know how powerful you are, you've stood in the line a gunfire for me once for fuck sake, sheilded me with your body and so much more.' You rest your forhead against his as you allowed his warmth to weigh down on your shoulders like a weighted blanket, grounding you to him and just feel his breath fan your face, feeling his silent strength that lied beneath his skin in anticipation of being called upon. 'I just feel as though our luck will run out before we know it. i feel something bad is coming and i hate to see you be caught in the cross fire.'

There was no doubt in your mind that he could keep you safe, you were already feeling such with just him standing in front of you, powerful and beautiful and domineering in a way that made you yourself feel as if you could confidently catch bullets with your teeth. You remebered the first time he had made you feel as such as some people had somehow managed to break into the tower while it was still heavily under reconstruction, you were held at gun point by them at the time and yet while you were worried out of your mind, there was a voice within that told you to call upon The Sentry and you did in a breathy manner.

'Help me Sentry.' and he came within seconds as a flash of gold went from assailant to assaliant, forcing them to unload their clips until they were empty, only for him to destroy their weapons as though he was crumpinling up paper and sending them flying into nearby walls with a small and sharp flick of his wrist. The fight was over before they could blink and now they lied unconcious a few feet from you, not that you could see as Sentry appeared before you, holding your face in his hands as his eyes searched you for any signs that you were hurt, barely having broke a sweat.

'You're safe.' was all he said with full certainty and you have believed it ever since that fateful day and every day afterwards. You could hide under his cape and still feel the safest person alive becuase that's just how Sentry made you feel, even if he was a little overbearing and felt the inate need to accompany you everywhere as his eyes asssest every room for threats towards you, even going far as to stand infront of you on most occasions as you were face to face with his broad and powerful back.

'Then don't.' Sentry replied with a sudden calmness to his voice, his fingers trailing to caress some parts of your neck. 'Don't indulge on that feeling of something yet to come, i shall deal with it like i have dealt with everything in the past. So only focus on me and how i make you feel, focus on that instead and nothing else will matter. Nothing.’ He insists as he pushes his head further against yours, further forcing you to only acknowledge him and nothing else as his golden hair prevented anything else from taking your attention away from him.

You did as he asked and just focused on him, not letting an once of worry enter your head, not like you even could as on occasion you could feel Sentry there within your head making his presence known. It was a reminder that he was inescapable, that you could never truly be without him as there was always some part of him that lingers with you, a reminder that he was your golden guardian of good; sworn to keep you safe and protected from any and all threats, even from the ones yet to come, Sentry would keep you safe even if you didn’t want him to. It was his duty to get rid of any second guessing you had, for you shouldn’t have any and neither should he be made to second guess himself for a god shouldn’t second guess himself, not even for a second.

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XXVI/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et @aliciax3

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, blood, gore, violence

A/N: GOD WE MADE IT. Okay I hope y'all enjoyed the ride, because GODDAMN IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS. What are we gonna do now huh? I'm kidding, I see y'all's requests and I'll be working on them. Thank you for sticking around for this long ass fic that took over my Tumblr. Enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The wind out on deck had teeth, but I needed the bite. Inside the ocean liner, there wasn't a single noise I could stand anymore; laughter, yelling, crying. I knew it was time to bolt when I saw some of the boys exchanging addresses—one last attempt to postpone losing ourselves to the real world.

I had made up my mind about it long ago. Contact would just make everything worse. What the fuck would I write, anyway? 'Hey, I hope you're good. Everything still hurts.'

I leaned against the railing, one palm braced against cold metal, the other flicking my lighter under the lip of a bent cigarette I'd pull out of a half empty pack on my way out.

Flick. Nothing.

Flick. Nothing.

"Piece of shit." I muttered, shaking it once. I gave it one more try. Still dead. Two set of footsteps walked by and stopped right at the turn. I didn't care, so I didn't look.

"How did you manage to get through the war with that shit lighter?"

My heart just about gave out.

I turned slowly, disbelieving. Y/n's eyes meet mine as she retraced her steps and approached me, mouth curled around the ghost of a tight-lipped smile. It read as a bittersweet greeting, as much as an apology.

"Fuck." I breathed, frozen halfway through the motion. She snatched the cigarette out of my mouth, trapped it between her teeth and lit its end in the blink of an eye. Handed it back and stared at the side, overlooking the fact that she had knocked the air out of my lungs with what had become a mundane motion between us.

Because I couldn't remember the last time we had shared a cigarette, nor the last time I'd seen her smile. I couldn't remember much, I was realizing just now, aside from blood splattered on the hotel's hallway and sheer fear and white-hot rage.

Three Months Earlier

Fist met cheek with a wet crack. Ramirez didn't hold back. None of us were. Not after what this bastard had done.

The private—the fucker who'd pulled the trigger—was sagging in the chair, split lip pouring red, eye already swelling shut. I had a fistful of his greasy hair, yanking his head up harsh enough to tear it every time his head dropped.

"Where's the damn gun?" Bull insisted.

The private didn't answer. He had stopped answering around thirty minutes ago. Maybe he thought he could sit through this, take the beating, walk it out. So I leaned forward for him to hear me loud and clear.

"You're gonna give us that fuckin' gun," I hissed through gritted teeth, voice steady and mean. "Then I'm gonna shoot your brains out with it."

I meant it. Every syllable.

The bloodshot eye he could still open dragged away from me and over my shoulder, widening with sobering recognition.

"Do I ring any bells?" she asked, voice lethal, carrying through the room and straight into the replacement's ears.

My hand kept the iron grip on his locks as I spun to check I hadn't gone insane. Sure enough, there she was, leaning against the far wall of the lounge. Her tank top clung to her like gauze, stained with the dark crust of blood that hadn't quite dried. Barefoot. Pale. Skin slick with sweat or fever—I couldn't tell which.

I couldn't tell much aside from the fact that she shouldn’t be standing.

"You sonofabitch." in the blink of an eye, she was on the move, stalking across the floor like death itself in cotton and blood. The lightbulb made a flash of metal flicker in her hand. A blade.

"Hey—no," I dropped the culprit's head to intercept her halfway. Her body crashed into mine, all heat and tremble, and I took the opportunity to keep the blade at bay by restraining her wrist. It felt wrong how easy that was. "What are you doing?"

Her breath came in short, hard puffs; her glare, glassy and furious, trained on the slumped man behind me as she spat, "I'm gonna bleed him like a pig."

"When you think she can't get more stupid," Martin muttered somewhere in my left, and God was he right.

She was shaking, too light and too hot, holding herself together by the same furious grief that had left my knuckles busted and my sleeves blooded.

"Let me go." She writhed in my grip, trying to push past me. I halfheartedly held firm.

"Not happening."

"Let her try."

"Shut up, Alton." Don jumped in, pushing himself off the chimney's corner. He moved closer, catching Y/n's elbow from behind to gently make her step back. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Y/n shook him off hard. Too hard. She gasped and staggered, one hand flying to her side as if pressing the dressing would stop the stitches from pulling.

"Shit—" I cursed, catching her again before she toppled over. "Stop. Fuckin' stop, alright? Please." With one arm desperately wrapped around her waist, I walked her back a step. Two. She was burning through the cloth and I couldn't do anything to fix it.

Her forehead hit my shoulder for half a second, like she was just so goddamn tired.

The door flung open with a thud, grabbing our full attention. Speirs' boots stopped right before the beaten up soldier, who was still trying to look smug through a face that was more pulp than person.

"Where's the gun?" Speirs questioned, faux calm reining in his ruthlessness.

The bastard had the nerve to smirk as he threw the same quip that had been earning him the punches. "What gun?"

The back of Speirs' sidearm caught him across the face, splitting the other cheek clean open.

"When you talk to an officer," Speirs' tone lacked patience and dripped with danger. Not a good sign. "you say Sir." He raised the pistol. Pointed it directly at the private's forehead.

Everyone stepped back, almost unnoticeably. We all heard the stories. No one wanted to look. No one but Y/n, whose chin was tilted just enough to watch the scene over my shoulder, her free hand holding onto my jacket for support.

The room held its breath for a second or a minute, before our commanding officer spoke again. "Let the MPs take care of this piece of shit."

On cue, More and Bull got a careless hold on the private by his arms and dragged him out of the room, a chorus of muted grunts echoing behind them.

Talbert, who had trailed into the lounge after Speirs, asked tentative, "Is Grant dead?"

"Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it." He announced while shoving his sidearm back into his holster. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Y/n straightened up the best she could, her palm rapidly tapping my shoulder. "Joe, let go."

I didn't have time to react before our Captain entered my peripheral vision, his crimson splattered hand wrapping around Y/n's bicep to pull her away from my arms.

"The hell are you doing on your feet, Sergeant?" He inquired, sharp gaze scanning Y/n's covered ribcage. She didn't get to make up an excuse. "First Sergeant Talbert, why isn't Y/l/n in the hospital?"

Talbert hesitated. "Sir, Spina—"

"Spina's a medic, she needs a damn doctor." He peeled her away from me, aiding her with more care than the man would admit to later. "C'mon, we're driving you to the hospital."

Maybe I should've said something. To her, to Speirs, to anyone. Should've gone with her. I just stood and watched them carry her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I willed my brain snap out of it, shaking my head imperceptibly as if to physically pull me out of the stupor.

"Thought you got shipped to the States." I attempted.

"Got shipped to England." Y/n corrected me. "Got word the Toccoa veterans were leaving, so I hitched a ride." She tucked the lighter into her pocket and leaned back against the railing, her moves obviously slower and more mindful despite her pretending otherwise. "Surprise."

I dragged hard on the cigarette, just to keep my hands busy. "No one said anything."

"Wasn't trying to make a big entrance."

"No shit." I turned back to the dark water, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, the sound of waves against metal echoing below. "Malarkey knows?"

"I'll look for him."

The Statue of Liberty was still a distant speck behind gray clouds.

"We won." she commented matter-of-factly, trying to build a conversation from scratch. As if that had ever worked with us.

Still, I indulged her effort.

"Yeah. We did."

"You hear about Japan?"

"Who didn't?" I flicked the ashes off board. "Whole world's gone to hell and back."

She nodded, foot tapping the planks. "Heard some of the guys stayed back in England."

"Can't blame them." I said, because 'I considered it' would arise questions I didn't want to answer. Not to her, not to anyone.

At the turn of the deck where Y/n had come from, movement caught my eye—someone lingering at a cautious distance, arms crossed, watching the scene. It took me a second to recognize Andrew. He looked different; older, duller. Out of place, just like we'd all be in a couple of hours.

"Where'd he come from?" I asked, nodding toward him, doing my best to keep my tone in check.

"He came to see me at the hospital." She threw a look over her shoulder, not so much to check what was I looking at as it was to make sure he was still there. "Found me pretty quick. Guess being the mail boy has its privileges."

I nodded, exchanging the sight of the man for the horizon's; the faint outline of New York parted the sky from the ocean.

I could've looked for her when we got to England. I should've asked around. Wouldn't have been too hard—tracking down a female paratrooper. Why didn't I?

"Why don't you go in?" I said after a while, mentally drawing a line in the sand. "Let the fellas see that pretty face of yours got the color back."

She shrugged, tugging at a loose thread on her fatigues' sleeve. "I'd rather stay here."

The silence stretched. Only the churn of ocean filled it, that and the creak of footsteps from restless soldiers wandering behind us. I glanced over at her.

"You going back to Norfolk?" I asked.

She breathed out a single laugh, almost amused. "Where else would I go?"

I bit back a reckless offering. 'You could come with me' wasn't something she'd like to hear. It wasn't something I'd like to lay out between us either, bare and desperate like a child begging not to go home yet.

What was home, anyway?

"You going back to San Francisco?" she echoed my question, her observant gaze skimming over me.

"We'll see about that."

Another pause. Another crack in the conversation we couldn't quite patch.

"Luz is asking for everyone's address," I said it like an afterthought, pretending I wasn't desperate to push her away before I spilled unwanted truths all over the outdoor deck. "You should go give him yours before he realizes you're on the ship and chases you for it."

"Maybe I will." She gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What's your address, Liebgott?"

I looked down at the cigarette burning between my fingers. Hesitated. "Can't remember." That was a lie, yet it felt cleaner than the truth.

Her face fell when she put together the pieces, reading between lines what I'd already decided. She took a breath. Resignation. "Tell you what," she folded her arms over her chest, the words sticking halfway in her throat. "I think I'm gonna miss you."

A joke, most likely, but it didn't land like one.

"Don’t worry," I ran my free hand through already disheveled locks. "one month with lover boy Andrew and you won't even remember my name."

She stared at me like I had offended her. Maybe I had. Maybe I deserved to see her scoff, turn heel and leave me there.

With a sigh, she reached for my hand. Took it in hers. Pressed something into my palm.

Her lighter.

"Keep it," she said. "Or throw it overboard, I don't care. I hate smoking anyway."

She lingered for a beat, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Quick. Chaste. Soft enough to fucking kill me. I tried to catch her lips with mine on instinct, but she was already pulling away. Like she knew. Like she had felt me move and decided to purposefully beat me to it.

She squeezed my arm, warm and final, and walked back to her friend without another word.

I stared at the lighter in my hand.

America grew closer, and I felt my heart break.

We'd run out of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The noise at the docks was deafening, overwhelming—cheering, crying, shouting names into the chaos. The second our boots hit New York's soil, the world broke open in celebration.

We were being swallowed by the crowds. Men from Easy jostled shoulder to shoulder, some already sprinting toward waiting families, others standing still, lost. Flags waved, hats flew, the scent of salt and steel mixed with perfume from people who hadn't known the inside of a uniform. Someone threw a bouquet. A woman screamed someone's name and collapsed into his arms.

In the middle of it all, I felt a hand close around my bicep, forced gentleness barely masking urgency, and tugged me slightly away from Andrew before anyone could clock it. The ruckus swallowed the movement.

"What's the lighter for?" Joe's clipped question went right into my ear.

Thrown by a question I didn't expect to hear, I turned to face him. We were being pushed and pulled by bodies on all sides, but he kept me tethered. "Smoking, hopefully." I tried. "Don't burn shit up with it. It's got my initials."

He exhaled sharp through his nose, tugging on my arm just enough to pull something else out of me. I didn't have it in me to fight it, so I gave in.

"Don't want you to forget me." I confessed, fear, heartache and embarrassment bubbling to the surface all at once.

His grip tightened, and his voice raised. "Don't need a fucking lighter to remember you."

I opened my mouth, but someone bumped me from behind. I stumbled forward, into him. His hands caught me like it was second nature at this point.

"You don't have to keep it," I insisted, placing a hand on his chest as a leverage to push myself a step back. "I told you to throw it away if you—"

"I'm in love with you."

It hit harder than a gunshot, straight to the chest.

"Head over heels for fuck knows how long," he went on, not looking away from me for a second. "It's fuckin' pathetic. I don't need a lighter to remember that, alright?"

My pulse was too loud in my ears. A lump in my throat blocked any response I would have wanted to give him. Someone shoved through again, knocking him slightly off balance. His hand left my arm for a second.

"Keep it," was the only sentence I managed without having my voice shattering. "Please."

Joe muttered something under his breath—'fuck', maybe—and reached for his dog tags. Before I could ask what he was doing, he slipped the chain over his head, the rusted star of David glinting under the sun, and looped it over my neck instead. They were warm from his skin.

His hand lingered at the base of my nape for a second before he leaned in, kissed my temple, and spoke against my hair, "Take care of yourself."

I grabbed the front of his jacket. My fingers found his collar and brought him into a kiss, quiet, barely there, but enough.

Enough.

He kissed me back.

And then he let go.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, into a hundred people moving in a hundred directions, oblivious to yet another goodbye among all the reunions.

"Y/n! God, I thought I'd lost you. C'mon!"

Andrew's voice called behind me, so I walked back toward him on reflex, leaving my heart somewhere on the dock.

'I'm in love with you'.

Too late for it to matter.

[cvnntagious]

:: dilf!chris takes his time with you at a hotel

there was barely three seconds after you heard the lock of the hotel door click before chris practically pounced on you. he didn’t want to waste time. unable to even ask him how the drop off went, you were pinned against the wall. his mouth crashed against yours, tongue hot and hungry, hands already sliding up your thighs—he was making up for every lonely night.

“she’s with her mom all weekend, thank fuck,” chris answered your lingering thoughts in a low growl, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin, “been waiting for too long.”

you didn’t answer; you couldn’t. not when he’s walking you back towards the bed, greedy hands exploring your curved before he hikes up your dress. laying you down carefully, he wastes no time before sliding his hand between your legs, finding you already soaked from a little kissing.

chris hissed as he dragged his long dingers through your slick, feeling it coat his fingertips. “shit,” he breathed, “dripping f’me already.”

you nodded, almost dizzy from the slow place he set, from the pressure of his soft finger pads circling your clit justt right. he groans, pulling back to admire you, like you were something sacred and filthy all at once. the way you looked up at him, like you were drunk on the long-awaited snapping of tension after months of waiting, texting, pretending things were innocent, was enough to finish him right there, length throbbing beneath his sweats.

hastily, he’s pulling his shirt over his head, eyes locked on you before he drops everything on his lower half at once. when his dick springs free, weighed down by how hard and heavy it was, your stomach did a flip, like it’d been waiting on this moment.

chris looks up, seeing you just staring at him in bewilderment. “take those off,” he nods towards your panties, already halfway down your thighs from the way he teased you before.

while you rush to do what he says, he lifts one knee on the bed, lining himself up with your inviting cunt. he doesn’t waste time with more foreplay, and truthfully doesn’t need to, sinking into you in one long, thick thrust that knocked the wind out of your lungs.

you cried out, clawing at the sheets and he pauses, just for a moment, still buried deep inside you. “there y’go,” he cooed, voice hoarse.

“y’know been thinkin about this every night?” he asked, taking note of your furrowing brows, “stroking my cock with you in mind, wishin’ it was your tight little walls wrapped around me instead.

his bluntness, just as raw and passionate as the hard thrusts that follow his admission, fogs up your mind. but you weren’t able to think much about his words, every deep rock of his hips snapping against your ass leaving you gasping, whining his name as the bed shook beneath you with every desperate movement.

chris’ jaw went slack, a string of grunts and groans falling from his lips as his fingers found your clit once again, rubbing it a way that ripped a whine from the back of your throat. he feels your walls fluttering around him, a subtle warning that you’re just as close as he is when you can’t form words. “fucking hell,” he gasped, pulling out just in time.

he stroked himself until hot ropes of cum splattered across your stomach, chest, face — anywhere he could reach, desperate to make an art piece of you. your mind when blank as your own orgasm crashed over you, unable to view to the show right in front of you with the way your eyes had rolled into the back of your head, broken moans echoing off the walls. his eyes were wild with lust, sighing as he collapsed beside you.

his chest heaved, pulling you onto it like he never wanted to let you go. the single dad, known for putting his child before everyone, just made time for you. no way in hell was he letting you go now.

a/n. ovulating and in need of dilf chris, i fear

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you turned tiny! how do the ghouls take care of you?

COMMENTS: this was a silly lil idea i brainstormed w one of my irls that has now come to life...tiny ghouls coming next.

TAGLIST: @as1iiiwhaa @astralsocfactory

Jin’s first instinct is to figure out what anomaly did this to you and turn you back to normal immediately. After all, you can’t be a good servant if you’re small. He’ll keep you in his pocket and monitor you at all times, just to make sure nobody does anything sinister to you.

Tohma is unexpectedly gentle with you, allowing you to climb onto his hand of your own volition. The last thing he wants is to hurt his precious Inspector in this state—so let him know if anything feels off, alright? He’ll take care of it as soon as he possibly can.

Luca is your protector, first and foremost. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t baffled, but it’s the truth to say that he’s going to do anything to see you return to normal! Another guy who is super gentle with you, allowing you to sit wherever you please on his body.

Kaito freaks the fuck out when he sees you for the first time. He’s screaming and crying, thinking that you’re never gonna return to normal—it’s really bad for your ears. He’ll quiet down if you yell at him enough, reassuring him that everything is gonna be okay. Hits himself over the head because you shouldn’t be the one comforting him...

Alan is, first and foremost, very concerned about you. While he isn’t sure what happened to make you so small, he’s going to do his best to find the anomaly and get you turned back. Would prefer to keep you with someone else so he doesn’t accidentally crush you, but unfortunately that’s not an option.

Sho keeps an eye on you at all times. Puts you in the food truck and tells you to stay. He’s serious. Do not move from that spot or else he’ll think you got into something and died. Maintains his business as usual, but cuts up the smallest pieces of food to feed you. Gives you a single spoonful of whatever he’s making just to keep you comfortable.

Leo makes fun of you, threatening to drop you from his eye level and holding you roughly. It takes Sho giving him a snide remark for him to get his shit together. Honestly he’s not that bad, would likely just put you in his pocket and ignore you while scrolling on his phone.

Haru will get a bit too excited about this I fear. He does a good job of keeping you away from the anomalies, since he knows what it’s like to be small and afraid of them. If he has the time, he’ll cut up little pieces of food for you, and if not, he’ll task Ren to do it. You’re in good hands. :)

Towa is not gentle. I am so sorry—he doesn’t know his own strength. He’s gonna pick you up weird and treat you roughly because he doesn’t understand that you’re just not as resilient. Haru is going to have to talk to him, to which Towa will sulk but he will ultimately be more gentle. Hang in there!

Ren doesn’t really care, he’ll just treat you as normal. Keeps you in his room all day in front of his phone, claiming that you’re getting the real movie theatre experience now that you’re so small, huh? For once he’s looking on the bright side...for your sake. He has no grudge against you so there’s no need to threaten you like he did Haru.

Taiga thinks it’s fun to chase you around and play hide and seek. It’s a challenge to find someone as tiny as you, but that’s what makes it worthwhile, is it not? So make all the games fun for him, kitty cat. Taiga will make sure you have fun too, promise. :)

Romeo would continue his day as usual. You’re not climbing on his expensive gloves or getting in his pocket, no way! He will house you in one of his bird cages though, if you insist...oh, don’t give him that look! It’s for your own protection, is it not? What if some BTH steps on you!?

Ritsu will take the opportunity to utilize your current state and make you an eyewitness. Don’t bother pointing out that he does the same thing when you’re large anyway...he won’t listen. In his mind, he needs to keep you safe while also optimizing your current state...so that is what he will do!

Subaru is easily one of the most gentle with you. He keeps you in Hotarubi and has an eye on you at all times. If you want to leave, he’ll slip you in his pocket and keep you safe. Honestly, he rather likes you like this. You’re so small and cute, reliant on him...it’s a bit embarrassing how happy that makes him.

Haku is initially very concerned for your safety, but takes it upon himself to ensure that you’ll be okay. He’ll tease you about it, calling you his tiny princess and the like, spoiling you rotten to help you stay sane while navigating such a giant world.

Zenji can’t do much, unfortunately, but he can go get Subaru and Haku to help you with everything you may need! He’s actually more upset than he lets on that he can’t pick you up and hold you like they can. Zenji will push it aside for you, though! He can't be discouraged when you’re the one in trouble right now!

Edward is going to try and scare you, first and foremost. He thinks it’s funny. You do look like a tasty little morsel, even more so than usual...but he won’t bite you, dear. He promises. Edward won’t pamper you but he will protect you if necessary. Otherwise, you should just hide out in his room until you’re back to normal...

Rui is horrified at your current state, more than you are. What do you mean you’re so small he could crush you? He was already worried about hurting you, but now? He could kill you by accident and never even know it! Demands that you stay away from him in his casual Rui way. Puts Lyca in charge of you, more likely than not!

Lyca is your fierce protector, and that is not going to change just because you’re small. In fact, he’s going to be even more insistent about it! Lyca keeps you in his pocket at all times and will growl and snap at someone if they ask about you. He keeps your presence a secret just in case someone tries to take advantage of you, but will tell Subaru of course.

Yuri immediately sets to work on a cure for your condition. Don’t you remember what he taught you about anomalies and allergic reactions, you worm!? You should have been paying attention! Whatever, he’ll explain everything to you, and then you’ll be back to normal in no time.

Jiro is curious as to what caused this. It’s a phenomenon he hasn’t yet witnessed before, even though all his time studying anomalies...you will let him take you to Yuri, won’t you? If you say no he’ll shrug it off, because even if he thinks it's the best choice it's up to you. Honestly, he’ll keep you with him through the day and might even forget you’re there!

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: This was an ask. I accidentally deleted it, so i will post it this way. How would the BLLK guys act like omegas around male Yn:

(Disclaimer, my knowledge about the omegaverse is piss poor)

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Yn: What are you guys in my closet?

Kaiser: We are not IN your closet. We are outside of it.

Yn: You might as well be in it with how you act- Ness, Charles, what the fuck?!

Ness: What? It smells good! *sniffs one of Yn's shirts*

Charles, wrapping a shirt around his neck: It reminds me of strawberry donuts! I am taking this one!

Yn: You guys are being weird.

Lorenzo: Not our fault you smell great.

Loki, standing next to Yn while smiling nervously: You are so right. They are acting weird. Imagine stealing someone's shirts and smelling them.

Yn, notices a shirt behind Loki's back: Yeah...

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Isagi:...

Hiori:...

Yukimiya:...

Yn: I can feel you stare. What is it? *looks away from his book*

Isagi: Why are you cuddling with Kurona?

Yukimiya: Especially when he is in that state?!

Yn, confused: He is having a fever, and he asked me to hold him while he sleeps. I don't know how that will help him with the fever, but I won't ask too much here.

Hiori: Fever? He doesn't have a fever. Can't you smell it?

Yn: Smell what?

Isagi: Kurona is in his h- Never mind! I will have a fever in two weeks. Mark it.

Yukimiya: Mine will be in 5 days. Make sure to not forget it

Yn: How do you two know when you will have fe-

Hiori: Mine is in a month again!!

Yn:... Just take a paracetamol...

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Yn, trying to remove Shidou from himself: Stop hugging me!

Shidou: Noooo! You are so warm and soft! It's doing things to me~

Yn, looking at him weirdly: Get your hand off of my ass!

Shidou: No~

Sae: You are so weird, Shidou. Invading Yn's personal space like that isn't nice.

Yn: Sae... you are doing the same.

Sae: True. But, I am not Shidou

Yn:...

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Yn, minding his business while eating lunch: What a great da-

Barou: Why are you going around hugging people?!

Yn: I spoke too soon... They are asking me for hugs!

Niko: Why do you let them? Do you not understand what that means to the rest of us?!

Aryu: I am heartbroken and offended. Why do you never hug me when it's my time?

Yn: None of you ever ask me. How am I supposed to know what you want?

Rin: Idiot! You can smell it! Don't play stupid!

Yn: Smell what-

Barou: I demand the same treatment!

Tokimitsu: Me as well...

Aryu: I demand that and for you to do my hair.

Niko: Can you read mangas to me while hugging me?

Rin: I am the best here, so I definitely deserve better hugs than my brother. Keep that in mind.

Yn:... Alright

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Chigiri: Do you smell it? You smell it, right?!

Yn: Oh, yeah, I do. We are having curry today-

Chigiri: Not that! Didn't you notice how my scent is much better today than Reo or Nagi's?

Yn: Uh...

Reo: That's not true! Yn always loved my scent the most!

Yn: I-

Nagi: Did he tell you that?

Reo: No, but he was thinking that. Right?

Yn: I can't smell-

Chigiri: That's a lie! Mine is superior!

Nagi: Nuh-uh! Mine is better because it's calming!

Reo: Both of you are lying!

Yn, fearing a fight may break out: All of you smell nice and unique

Nagi:...

Chigiri:..

Reo:... Really?

Yn: Yeah

The trio: ○//////○

Yn: I think I fucked up....

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Karasu, hugging one of Yn's arms: Move, freak.

Bachira, hugging the other: Nah. I like it here.

Yn: Guys... I am trying to practice here. You are wasting my time, and Gagamaru and Kunigami's as well.

Bachira: I don't think we are. Besides, we haven't seen you as much, and you reek of Kaiser right now.

Karasu: Yeah, it's offensive to anyone. Especially me

Yn: I-

Otoya, while jumping on Yn's back: Ynnnnn... I feel vulnerable right now! I hope a (h/c)-haired midfielder doesn't take advantage of me~

Yn: Are you stupid or are you dumb?

Karasu: He is both

Bachira: Yeah

Otoya: Hey!!

Meanwhile, Kunigami and Gagamaru in the corner:

Kunigami: This is bullshit..

Gagamaru: Absolutely. Why are they getting his attention. What about me?

Kunigami: You got to spend the whole day with him yesterday!

⚽️⚽️⚽️⚽️

Anri, watching all of this over the monitor: Did you never tell them that Yn is a beta?

Ego: And ruin the fun? No!

[beastyeastfreak]

Mystic Flour x GN! Cacao kingdom soldier! reader.

Part one of ???

Cw and tags: suggestive, kissing, flirting, non descriptive canon typical death

Summary: You were a selfless Cacao kingdom soldier who embarked on the journey to beast yeast with your king and peers. Unfortunately, it seems you have caught the eye of a beast.

🌾 - When Dark Cacao announced his expedition to Beast yeast, you volunteered to go as many others did. You were a loyal Cacao kingdom soldier, it would be wrong not to. A plague was devouring the people whole, sweeping through the snow like a gluttonous swarm of springtails. So, the team sailed across an unnervingly calm Licorice sea, carved through untamed jungle and soon into the ivory pagoda.

🌾 - Your team meets a Haetae aptly named Cloud Haetae who offers to be a guide. Your group tours through the pagoda as Cloud Haetae told tales of their master, Mystic Flour cookie, you felt as though eyes were on your dough. Statues of this being felt like they were staring at you, and you felt as if the fog had eyes boring holes into your soul. Cloud haetae told a tale of a powerful cookie who granted wishes, helping cookies struggling.

🌾 - “What is your wish?” Cloud Haetae asked you as you lingered a bit away from the group while they ate, passing on the snacks so everyone else could have their share. You were perplexed, Cloud Haetae asked that to Dark Cacao too though. “I don’t think i have one,” you start, “I just want my kingdom to be safe and happy, if i can help someone else get what they want then that makes me happy” you say. “How selfless! My master likes… would like you!” Cloud Haetae would, you wonder why it almost seemed like they wanted to say something else.

🌾 - You soon meet this leavened one. The group stands in front of a colossal cocoon, the Cloud Haetae showing their true colors. Leading them into the metaphorical and literal spiders web. Mystic Flours voice echoes throughout the chamber, she stands like a white pillar in the room. A powerful being no mortal dare go up against, she tells a different story of apathy and futility. As she speaks, your allies begin to become infected.. except you. “May the curse of the Ivory Pagoda befall all who fail to recognize this truth,” she says. As she leaves, you almost swear you see her eyes linger on you for a moment which makes your dough feel like it had been infested with bugs. Your friends are falling before your eyes, but as the fog began to settle you watched Mystic Flour leave and began to chase after her. You weren’t sure what this would accomplish, it didn’t do anything actually, when you found your way out of the mist you were on a mountain peak alone, separated from your king.

🌾 - You were wondering aimlessly through a land of clouds and stairs, alone but not useless. If you could reach this Mystic Flour cookie maybe you could guide Dark Cacao to her! You began to wonder up the mountain, but as you venture you take in the beauty of this world. You wonder why you were spared, you and your king alone, a lowly mortal and an Ancient. Each step up the long and winding steps was another thought. “My master likes… would like you!” Cloud Haetae’s voice echoes in your mind, then it hits you. Did she like you? You wince at the thought of gaining the affection of a beast such as herself.

🌾 - After many arduous steps, you reach the top. Carved into the mountain was the entrance to a dark temple like place. You quietly walked through, feeling tiny in comparison to the pillars stood proud and murals recessed into the stone. The stale scent of flour wafts through the air, many had been reduced to dust here you were certain of it.

🌾 - “You are not the one who i expected to arrive first,” her voice calls through the chamber. She stands some distance away, eyes closed and hands still in that same position. Fear shoots through your body. “I..” your words are cut off. You remember the epiphany you had earlier. You know that if she kills you now for speaking wrong then you will be of no use to the cacao kingdom. You recall her stories, she had no followers here. Her last interactions with cookiekind were likely negative, maybe there was a way you could smooth talk your way out of this…

🌾 - You kneel with your head slightly turned down, a gesture of respect, your chocolate armor rustling. “Master of the Ivory Pagoda, Leavened one, i do not come seeking a fight.” You say and place your weapon on the ground, its clinking echoes through the halls at least thrice. She is silent, her steps are quiet until she’s practically in front of you. “Why have you come then?” Great, she wasn’t trying to turn you to flour, something was working. “To give the respect that my people have failed to give you,” you say, lifting your head only to place your hand out. She places her hand in yours and you kiss it reverently. She hums at your words and actions, “stand, soldier.” She says in that same slow fashion while her had drifts away. You obey her words, her eyes are nearly opened. “I do not grant wishes, if this is an attempt to gain something i will not be merciful.”

🌾 - “I consider myself all but selfish,” you respond. “I do not want to ask anything of you, i have no wish only that you’d grace a cookie such as i with your grand presence.” She raised an eyebrow just barely at your words then stepped forward, her eyes staring into yours. Those slit pupils felt like they were cutting you. You were nervous- no scared, her expression was impossible to pinpoint, they had better luck fighting a licorice ocean monster than figuring out what went in behind those eyes. “I have kept an eye on you for some time,” she says and places a single finger under your chin. You fight the urge to flinch away. “You have nothing, you’ve given everything, pointless is it not?” She says, eyes grazing over scars. “If my actions have lead to me meeting you then in my heart i know it was worth it,” you say. You really hope your theory was right and that she did like you.

🌾 - She stops, her mouth agape as if she had not anticipated that answer. Then her cheeks begin to flush ever so slightly. “How… odd,” she says and her hands return to their position. Her surprise fade soon, then her hand comes to your chestplate. Its cold, and it spreads throughout your whole dough but you dont flinch. “This armor is pointless, your words alone have weakened a beast. This is only reserved for me, tell me that i am wrong.” She says, fingers hooking beneath the chest plate onto the tunic beneath. “You’re right,” you respond quietly. Not sure whether to be scared or attracted. Her eyes dart back onto your face. “You will toil no more,” she says and steps forward so her face is close to yours, your face heats up, her other hand grabs your chin between her pointer and thumb. “You will not wave the cacao flag,” she says quieter. You really hope that by doing this you’re buying Dark Cacao some time or something of value. “You will not surround yourself with those unlike you,” her face is an inch away, you find yourself leaning into it. “I am the only one who is like you.”

🌾 - She closes the distance between the two of you, your eyes flutter nearly shut. Your heart is beating, its really quick too. In your days of defending the wall, fighting monsters and serving your king this was simultaneously the most scared you’ve been in your life and also oddly the most attracted you’ve been to someone, that alone made you feel worse. Her sharp claw like nails left your chin and came to your neck, keeping you in place. Not that you showed any signs of leaning away. She didn’t have to push you against anything or hold you still to keep you with her.

🌾 - “MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE!” You hear your kings voice echo, a loud roar. He was coming up the stairs, you flinch and she leans away then looks at you, “hm.. unfortunate… when i have taken back my souljam, i will decide what to do with you.” She said, her thumb brushing against your lower lip before pulling away. Your vision began to blur and become white, you close your eyes to clear it but you cannot open them, your body becomes numb. “I will awaken you soon… Y/N…” you hear as you begin to fall into a deep rest, dreaming of soft clouds, a lack of armor and dumpling immortals playing Go.

[rosetyler42]

Ericka: She's the reformed bigot of the group who actually met the people she was raised to hate and found out their the family she wanted all along. Yes, she realizes what she and her family did in the past is wrong, and is DETERMINED to make sure it never happens again. She tries VERY hard to do better but there's a niggling fear that she'll slip back into it somehow. That since that was all she ever knew for so long, that's all she'll ever be and all some people will see her as: some evil homicidal and genocidal maniac. And the fact some people have basically gone "Well, she tried to kill monsters so she's evil" doesn't help. She also worries if she relapses it could lead to the deaths of innocent people - it took a giant kraken and Dracula nearly DYING for her to come out against her Great-Grandfather, and even THEN they would have died if it weren't for Johnny. She often hides these fears behind her happy cheery "I want to help" personality and not wanting to judge anyone. But she definitely has some baggage.

Lucy: Nah. She's just playing pranks and having fun. It's not HER fault she's half monster and her definition if fun may not always match up with others. And some rules are stupid and made to be broken anyway. Plus, she mostly only harasses those who deserve it.

Simon: He's mostly Lucy's side kick and braincell who tries to keep himself and Lucy out of trouble. However, he ALSO has an Addamsian sense of humor and isn't TOTALLY innocent...

Alice: Both Alice and Susie know they were wrong and have tried to do better, although Susie still doesn't like Alice's love for the ink demon. Alice has learned mostly to just tell her to hush when she's being catty. However, Alice still carries the trauma of what she and Susie did, and like Ericka worries she'll never be more than an ugly dangerous monster. And Susie does still live in her head, often becoming more prominent when either Susie wants to protect Alice or both Alice and Susie are pissed off. All this said: The Cycle is very much a dangerous place: Alice may prefer more peaceful methods, but will still kill if she has to.

Audrey: Honestly one of the most innocent of my Blorbos, much of what Audrey did was because of either Wilson's manipulation or just trying to survive. That said, Audrey still feels bad about killing ink creatures, listening to Wilson, not listening to Joey, nearly getting Bendy killed, etc. Not to mention the things her father has done. She has tried to do better, giving her friends in the Cycle a better life and having freed Bendy.

@lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem: Another of the most innocent Blorbos: Boy has only really had to kill to survive or tormented people who deserved it. He probably doesn't have as much moral dilemma about things as Audrey does. Especially with his chaotic mix of angelic morality and devilish mischief.

Bill: I think he feels he's trying to liberate people from reality and is willing to do whatever it takes to DO that, in addition to trying to survive the collapse of the nightmare realm. He's basically in denial he's done anything wrong and largely does whatever he wants.

Ford: Some of it. He regrets cutting Stanley off and blames himself for both Bill's antics and Fidds' madness, and is trying to di better. However, he also justifies alot if things for science and for the greater good, including some rather messed up shit like Mind Comtrol ties and such.

Fidds: He does say "Maybe I've messed up in the past, but now I've seen what happened, I can finally put myself together again." However, It's unknown how much he actually REMEMBERS. For example, he used the memory gun against Ford without his knowledge, which it's unknown if he regrets or even REMEMBERS using it on him. We DO know he completely forgot about the Society of the Blind Eye and his involvement in it until he saw the symbol in the journal. He also has a history of building death bots when angry. Now, probably before he was sane enough not to use them, but after his mind got scrambled is a different story. He's able to justify alot under " It's a Security measure", "It's to help others", "I just wanted attention" type of reasoning.

Mabel: She does learn to be less self centered and try to do better. And that growing up doesn't have to be bad/mean sgs has to leave childish things behind. However, the hate she gets is WAY more than a 12 year old child of divorce deserves.

Coraline: She does learn to appreciate what she has more rather than wishing for things to be perfect. She can still be kind of snarky, wildly independent, and a bit adventurous for her own good. She's still 11. But she's also learned her limits in messing with dangerous things.

Bloo: ...THIS one's a bit complicated. On one hand he's learned to not be as much of a jerk and to accept people for who they are, and he's opened up to people besides Mac showing with his feelings of upset when Ed left or wanting to keep his friends around to the point of not wanting them to get adopted. (Which he doesn't try again.) He's also learned friends are more important than fame and to not act like he wants to be adopted when he doesn't. On the other, how the other friends treat him as the problem child who deserves whatever comes to him no matter how violent doesn't exactly encourage him to learn and do better. @lovelylivelyv does a better job describing this than me.

Mr. Ring-A-Ding/Lux Imperator: ...I think it's less he learns his lesson and more The Doctor gives him what he wanted without hurting others.

Shego: In Canon, her redemption was more "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." In WIR-Verse, it's more Kim kind of adopts Shego and they realize they have alot in common. She does eventually regret some of the things she did to Drakken, Kim and Ron and Possibles PERSONALLY, but not so much the becoming a villain and helping with world domination part.

Meteora: In canon, she got reverted back to babyhood and given another chance at life with little to no lasting memory of her time as Heinous. In WIR-Verse...yes, at least the things she's done to Star, Marco, Eclipsa, and her soul-stealing rampage across Mewni as a whole. That said, she's still very much a "The ends justify the means" kind of person and gets ANGRY whenever she sees someone in a similar situation to her or her parents. Sometimes to the point of violence. Even her canon self is willing to soul eat to protect Golssaryk AND sacrifice Star to help Mariposa get magic powers.

Eclipsa: No, in her own words, she doesn't regret what she did at all. And TECHNICALLY she didn't do anything wrong aside from perhaps not quite getting how to effectively change Mewni biases and being willing to do creepy things without thought of how others feel. Alot of what she was villainess for was things she either did not do or were things that didn't warrant being locked away in a chrystal as "The Queen of Darkness."

Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[metamorphesque]

How can one stop hating themselves?

Of my past failures and the regret of not working hard enough for my goals?

How can I move on and do my better?

The mind likes to replay the past as if we could rewrite it. But we forget how confused or tired or scared we were. We forget how hard it was to simply keep going. Looking back with clearer eyes makes it easy to judge your past self harshly. But that clarity only comes after the experience. So of course you see it differently now. That’s not failure — that’s growth. You don’t need to punish yourself for not knowing then what you know now.

Regret shows that you care. That you wanted more. But maybe you didn’t know how to get there, or maybe you just weren’t ready yet. That doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.

I think one of the most powerful things you can do with regret is not to push it away, but to study it. Not from a place of self-blame, but from a place of curiosity. Closely examine what it is you regret. Is it something you did or something you didn’t do? What held you back? Did fear stop you? What else could you have done? If you look at it closely enough, you’ll see that regret isn’t just pain — it’s information. So take the lesson. Write it down if you have to. And let it change how you live today. Let it guide your next choice, but not define who you are.

Let your past be the soil, not the chains. Grow from it.

Start small. Be gentle. There are no deadlines in life, unless you set them yourself. You're not late. You're not lost. You're just becoming. And you’re allowed to forgive yourself.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Alliances are built while minds crumble. An unexpected guest appears. The end draws near.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [17]

18 * Mirage [11.5k]

"Got a job got money got a place to be, Run though the desert trying to find me, me, me."

White on white - FIDLAR

        Markus was used to making split second decisions. He could rush to hide you, but then Mohawk, who had the same speedy perception as him, would see. Get pissed, know he was trying to hide you. Or he could let Mohawk see you, risk letting the unpredictable freak inside the building where you'd clearly just got done fucking Tracksuit. Both seemed like bad ideas. 

        Markus turned but didn't move from the doorway. Body blocking your frame.

        "Hey." Mohawk didn't seem to notice how strange Markus's positioning is. His dark eyes were wild and unfocused. He'd gone weeks without water, surviving off blood which only shriveled his brain. "You hear any of that," he pointed to the dull colored sky, "up there."

        Markus's eyes flicked to Gray who was also weighing the options of quickly hiding you versus hoping Mohawk just didn't spot you.

        "No." He'd been too busy scolding you and Tracksuit. Both standing behind him now. Listening. Wild cards he couldn't control. You weren't sure what you wanted to do, what this was about. They told you Mohawk had been in contact with them, but unreliable, unpredictable and insistent on staying alone. 

        Mohawk huffed out his nose. "Where's the others? Don't wanna relay this shit a billion times."

        Tracksuit didn't look at you as he put his mask back on, moving out the other busted window, lounging on it to block his view of you. "Right here, guy."

        "What about the gay one?"

        "I can hear you." Maskless floated over from the tent. Relieved to hear something that wasn't moaning or bickering.

        Mohawk nodded to himself, "Okay, okay, good, awesome, yeah." He didn't notice how weird it was three of the Marks blocked his view into the building. Too distracted by his pounding headache, the heat, and the gnawing fear. "We gotta move or like form defensive maneuvers or something or-" He swayed on his feet, holding his aching head a moment before continuing, "Assholes gonna come for you. Kill ya, take one of ya hostage and replace that pussy loser." His head lolled against his shoulder, hair drooping sad against his head. Suit ripped, exposing his arms just past the shoulders, shoving off slivers of his thighs. So tired. So worn. He just wanted to lay down and rest but there was never anywhere cool, safe, with water or with the thing he craved the most- you.

        You knew who the 'assholes' were, you needed to know about the other, your stomach twisting as you spoke without thinking, "Pussy loser?"

        Mohawk snapped upright. Unsure what he'd just heard. He'd been hearing a lot of things in the quiet desert lately. Mainly your voice or his fathers whispering over his shoulder or in his blank dreams. 

        Sand shifted softly inside the building. The Marks in the windows tensed but stayed silent. Hoping you'd just stay inside, let Mohawk believe it was a heat mirage, but you needed to know. You pushed at Seb's back, "Move." He did. Unsure if that was the best idea but feeling like he owed you some pliancy. 

        Mohawk had to be hallucinating. There was no way a human like you could still be alive out here. But there you were despite him rubbing his eyes. The sun reflected gold on your sweat-slicked skin, shoulders unburdened with stress in the sweet afterglow of sex. He didn't feel himself step forward, couldn't stop his arms from reaching out for your skin to make sure it was real, you were real. "(Y/n)?"

        Gray floated into his path, "You can speak to her after we've-" Mohawk grabbed him by the arm and flung him away with shocking force. He rushed forward, half-expecting his arms to go straight through you but his hug lands home, wrapping around your body. He nuzzled his stubbly jaw into your (hair/scalp) inhaling deep. You smelled terrible but unmistakably like yourself. You groaned in his grip, ribs on the verge of bruising. He chuckled an apology, holding back tears as he looked into your face. Thumbs coming to your cheeks, poking and stretching, making double sure.

        Squished lips part, "You can quit it now." You grunted, not knowing how much your voice was a melody to him.

        He didn't think about the others, the repercussions, he just kissed you. Pressing his lips hurriedly to your forehead, your cheeks and finally your mouth. Teeth meeting your forcibly puckered lips. Worming his tongue past your surprised defenses, tasting you, tasting meat, tasting...

        Markus tore him off, "You're hurting her." 

        You stumbled back against the concrete building. Mohawk's eyes wide, set on you, not even acknowledging Markus' hand on his shoulder. "Who the fuck was that?"

        You violently rubbed at your mouth now infected with the taste of stale blood, "What?" 

        All preconceived notions were out the window. He wasn't thinking right. Relieved. Scared. Pissed. Dehydrated. "Who the fuck were you just kissing?" 

        Behind Mohawk, Markus fixed you with a look. One that made you want to rebel against daddy but you knew he knew better. Don't tell him. Don't rub anything in his face right now. He's dangerous.

        You'd play along. Bitch out Markus later. "I'm not your girlfriend, dude. I'm not gonna taste the same."

        "If you look and sound the same, you're not gonna taste different. Who?" His gaze slid to Seb. "Was it you?" His hiss was venomous, completely murderous. 

         Seb held up his hands, "Haven't seen you in forever but I still believe in bro code, man."

        Mohawk nodded to himself like it wasn't the most obvious lie ever. He turned to Markus.

        "Must've been you." Partly true but he didn't need to know that. "Did you make her call you Daddy or something? Huh? You sick f-"

        Gray was a flash. "Enough." Suddenly they were both yards away. He had him on the ground before you could even process, Gray's boot pressed to Mohawk's neck. "This is unimportant to the issue at hand. Where are they now? Are we in immediate danger?"

        "I don't have a fuckin' GPS on them you," Mohawk grabbed him by the ankle, tried shoving him off with an, "idiot." This time Gray was expecting the attack, budged but not far, foot pinning him back into the sand. Mohawk choked, sinking into the soft ground. "I'm not the one you should be worried about. Like I told you, they're coming to-" Mohawk shifted, tried to dislodge Gray with a kick to the side but Gray was unmoved, sustained by food and water where Mohawk was not. "-kill you!"

        Gray didn't let up. For one, it was a good idea to keep crazy in check. For two, Mohawk had forced himself on you so openly, then had to audacity to be angrier than he was at the situation. What a silly, stupid man he was. Gray could not wait to be rid of him.

        "Let him up." 

        Gray's foot didn't release. Your control bounced off him like a rubber bullet. You tried, "Please?" Not expecting it to work.

        He barely lifted his foot, lost his focus to look at you, but it was enough for Mohawk to slip away on his back. Huffing and shaking off sand as he hovered above the ground.

        Mohawk eyed him darkly, "Was it you?"

        A nasty human part of him was tempted to tell Mohawk you'd sucked his dick, to upset him. The Viltrumite half of him overruled- but only barely. "As I said it's inconsequential."

        That seemed good enough for Mohawk. So dazed he couldn't detect double-speak. He made no move to choke you out in another hug so Gray made no move to pin him down. Annoyed as he was that you didn't want Mohawk on the ground where Gray felt he belonged. 

        You pointed at Mohawk, "By pussy bitch you mean Phantom, right?" Mohawk nodded stupidly, just happy to hear your voice now, to have your attention. "He's alive?" Another nod.

        "Those shitheads have been eatin' 'im alive." Mohawk doesn't tell you he's been eating him too. Though you already had a pretty good idea of the situation based on the taste lingering on your tongue.

        Markus can see the idea before it's even a twinkle in your eye. "Don't make him take you on a suicide mission. He's weak. You'll both die."

        "I'm not weak." Mohawk snarled as if he wasn't about to wilt in the sun.

        "Then we all go!" You snapped. "There's two of them, six of us! They have no chance."

        The truth of that rolled through the group like the hot wind on the dunes. It wouldn't be a hard fight. It'd be over fast. There'd be at least two bodies worth of Mark jerky to eat. Except none of them trusted each other and they all knew it. Had felt it when you were gone, there was nothing holding them together without you. There was no guarantee everyone would survive the fight, especially you in your fragile human body. A worse alternative, if you didn't go, somebody could be on the verge of death and cry out, 'Stop, I'll tell you where (Y/n) is if you don't kill me!' No Mark Grayson took defeat gracefully. 

        They had no synergy in battle, hadn't trained since landing here. When the fight was done, one of them could be hurt, easy to kill, and the others just might converge in for extra meat and another Mark off the competition roster. Markus and Seb shouldn't exactly be on a battlefield together at the moment.

        None of them say it. All of them hope the others aren't thinking it, but they are. Nobody trusts the others enough. Cocky in their strength but worried the others would dog pile when they were down.

        "I have a better plan." Gray said. 

        Mohawk watched the sky, eyes erratic. "Can we maybe talk about it somewhere less out in the open, shithead?"

        ***

        The cave was lit by a sunbeam, traveling miles upon miles down, a reminder you weren't trapped anymore. You stood on the spotlight's edge, it was far as you'd go into the cave. They needed to relocate, had to gather supplies for a journey, it was the only good option for the moment, and Gray insisted on going to collect food. You thought he meant any lingering bugs, maybe the fungal garden he'd talked about digging up. But you were mostly dwelling on the fact you felt no sense of closure being here again. When they said you had to come with them, you didn't fight. Wanted to see this place one last time and say goodbye to it on your terms. 

        Most of the cave had filled with sand, the Queen's pool was polluted with the stuff. Mohawk dove into the water without a second thought, drinking until he almost threw it all up, but all you could think about was Mark kissing you in the clear water, the sound of chittering bugs surrounding you. You could no longer hear them, the Queen's body and the thousands of dead decomposing eggs filled the cavern with the scent of rot. The Marks moved efficiently around you like the bugs used to. Somehow with your kingdom crumbled, you still rule. 

        Seb fashioned pieces of the Queen's shell into vases to hold as much water as possible. Maskless stayed above ground, keeping constant vigilant guard for the alleged incoming threat. Markus stood behind you, offering, "I can take you up if it's too much."

        Your eyes scanned the sand for Mark's body but found nothing. Maskless had told you he was buried. Good, he deserved that much. But you still felt sick seeing the cave and not him. Not knowing what he did to himself, what you did to him.

        "I'm still pissed at you." You said. He didn't argue because he didn't agree with your frustration, wasn't sorry for getting upset. You did something stupid, childish and now you were trying to act like you hadn't made a mistake. Like you weren't shaking, feeling the heavy guilt deep in your gut for fucking Seb then coming back to Mark's grave. It'd do your marriage no good to rub your nose in it, so Markus let you feel what he'd been trying to protect you from. 

        He knew you were crying though your back was to him. Could tell by the set of your shoulders and stuttered breaths. He watched you while you stared at the sand pile, trying not to dive into it. Neither of you watching the other two in the smoke filled hamster hut. 

        Gray didn't apologize for attacking and Mohawk didn't attack. The truce was glass-brittle, but they worked together silently. Gray was using the sheet of your worn cot as a sack to store the smoked meats inside while Mohawk tore off pieces of a Mark ribeye with his teeth. Occasionally moving a piece into the sack for Gray.

        He'd relay the plan to the others later but for now he wanted to hammer home it's importance with Mohawk, who was clearly a loose cannon.

        He spoke as he pulled long stripes of dried thigh off the makeshift wrack. "You must understand why we don't want her around them."

        "I'm not stupid," Mohawk said with a mouthful of meat. 

       Gray didn't agree, but kept talking. "(Y/n) thinks she wants to fight, but what she really wants is Phantom dead."

        Mohawk remembered the fight. The suspicion of Phantom. The confirmation of Scars and Lensless questioning him everyday and you not being with them, dead or alive. He knew the freak was involved but not the extent. The memory made him angry nonetheless, "Knew I should've killed that emo fuck."

        Gray shook his head. Mohawk had reported his condition while you all flew over. You seemed partly enthused, partly annoyed by the news. Wished you could've done it yourself.

        Gray said, "It'd be best for us to remove Phantom from the equation quietly, but (Y/n) wouldn't like that. She's smart for a human, she'd find a way to make us confess." He knew most of the others wouldn't be able to withstand your mental control- those who could would fall prey to your more manipulative tactics. He wasn't sure he could hide anything if you touched him again. "We have to bring him to us, let her kill him herself. That way, she won't have any reason to walk into immediate danger and those two will wear themselves down without food or entertainment."

        Mohawk quirked a brow, mind returning to him more with every chew and swallow. "We can't trust him you know."

        "We won't keep him alive long. Just enough for him to tell us more about the others condition and talk to (Y/n). I'm eighty percent sure she will want answers for what transpired here." Gray tested lifting the sack. Heavy and straining, but it could take a few more pounds. 

        "What'd he do?" 

        "(Y/n) hasn't fully divulged." As if Gray would tell him if he knew. 

        Mohawk grunted into another bite. "And what if I wanna kill those assholes myself?"

        Gray leveled him with a stare. Eyes near black unlike Mohawk's chocolaty rich hue. "They'll kill each other for us, they're unstable as is. No risk on our part." Mohawk opened his mouth to argue, but Gray doubled down, "You want to live to be with (Y/n), correct?" His mouth shut. Gray didn't like the idea of keeping Mohawk around, but knew there was strength in numbers. Despite how things hashed out when you went missing, he wouldn't let it happen again. "Then we are agreed."

       ***

       Seb dragged the impromptu pots over. One in each hand. Huge and sloshing.

        "There's some left," Seb reported, "But I don't wanna risk spilling so we can come back for the rest later."

         Markus nodded but made no move to help. He thought Seb would do well to struggle and think about what he'd done, and more importantly Markus was planning to carry you to safety, across the new threshold wherever they decided to hunker down. He looked to the sky above the cave, found Maskless floating still. No signs of danger yet but still the others should, "Hurry up."

        Just then Mohawk and Gray exited the hamster hut. A rugged sack slung over Gray's shoulder, hanging heavy with smoked meat. The smell penetrated through the rot and punched you in the gut. You knew all at once what was in that bag. You wanted to hurt Gray for holding it. Wanted to force them all to tell you who'd done the processing, but all of them had probably helped- all of them kept this from you. Except for one.

        There was no time to lash out. Not with the impending threat.

        You turned to Mohawk, trailing behind Gray, gait much steadier than it'd been before but nowhere as healthy as his companion. "Wherever we're going, you're flying me." You didn't need powers to make him do it. 

        A wry smile slid across his cracked lips. "Was jus' gon ask, baby." He trotted to your side, took you into his arms like you belonged there. He was much gentler this time, even asked, "This good?" You nodded and he beamed. Tired, sunburned, feeling butterflies. 

        "(Y/n)-" Markus started.

        "Don't talk to me." 

        ***

        The rock was cool. Retaining the heat from the day but not baking you alive. Gray spotted the slab of stone after an hour of flying low and slow. After scouting the area and deeming it Lensless and Scars free, construction began. Construction being Gray spinning like a drill and hollowing the thing out. Only leaving a narrow hidden hole at the bottom to get in and out of. You refused to go inside until there were more exits. Tiny punched holes in the roof for slits of light so you could remember- you weren't back in the cave.

        He obliged with curt nods. Never once talking to you. Not under control but respecting your wishes. You'd need time to process and he was okay with that. He was just happy you hadn't yelled at him like you had Markus on the flight over. While he worked, the others gathered scraps from the wastes. Always with an eye on the sky. Wondering if they were going to spot Scars and Lensless. Wondering if the momentary peace was going to shatter. You stayed outside while the work was done, trying to make yourself a bed. 

        "Piece of shit." You hissed as the garbage disintegrated in your hands. You'd been trying to make a place to sleep for the past half-hour with what little you had to zero success. Just a birds nest of useless crap.

        As it turned out, Mohawk was right. Scars and Lensless were on the prowl. When Maskless and Seb went back to the camp to grab supplies after convincing Gray they'd be careful. They got dangerously close to camp before spotting Scars' torn cape. They hid behind a dune, watching, calculating if this was a fight they could win, two on two. Seb thought yes, Maskless thought no. When Seb shifted to fight, Maskless held him back shaking his head. 

        They watched as the duo raided camp. Tore the tent apart. Turned the concrete ruins into rubble, calling out, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

        They didn't move. Waited until they got bored and left, heading in the opposite direction of the new camp to their relief. They took what they could from camp, but it wasn't much. The cots were shredded and Lensless stole Seb's beloved hammock for himself. Asshole.

        They returned in a sweaty panic. Explaining everything as Gray swept the remnants of the rock dust outside. Gray insisted scouting end for the day, that everyone come inside at once. Nobody argued. Even you, whose body prickled from being in an enclosed space again. So soon after returning to that cave and the memories it brought back. You had to remind yourself over and over of the hidden exits. The light filtering through the roof in tiny dots. 

        The boys talked shop. The threat level, how safe it was here, how they were going to parse out food, when and if they should attack first. On the other hand, you stayed alone in a corner. Given up on the cot. Idly sticking a sharp piece of metal through scraps of cloth to make... you don't even know. You just needed something to do with your hands.

        Night fell. The first in this new palace of stone. You pushed off Markus's quiet offer of cuddling. Refused Gray's offer of a patchwork blanket he'd made in a matter of minutes. You curled alone by the fire, shoved into the corner away from the exits. Ceiling holes patched for the night with cloth so no fire light escaped. The floor was freezing even so close to the fire. Nothing was comfortable. The smoke smell reminds you of Mark's meat sat across the base, hidden behind a stack of rocks. As if you not seeing it would hide the truth of what they'd done.

        Bugs crawled between your fingers. The last handful alive had found you hours after leaving the queen's chamber. Came chattering along, carapaces milky with age. They'd all die soon. You could go back to the cave, pick through the rubble and eat the dead, but you were sure they were decomposed by now. There was only one option left and you knew it. Hated it, but had trouble admitting to yourself- it was probably the right move. Still, you turned around when Gray looked at you. Ignored Markus when he tried to talk to you. Shoved off Seb's jokes. Maskless didn't acknowledge you and for that, you were thankful. He had always been the most understanding when it came to your time in the cave. 

        "Wanna share body heat?" Mohawk stood over you, watching you shiver.

        The last time you saw him, he rifled through your phone and pissed you off so bad Mark thought it'd be a great idea to take you into the caves he killed himself in. You fixed him with a glare. "We're not friends."

        He bit back the urge to say, 'We're more.' He was worn, but not emotionally stunted.

        He sat heavily by your feet, voice soft, "Heard you went through hell."

        "I don't want to talk to you." Ouch but at least you were speaking to him. At least you hated those other guys right now, not him. 

        He laid himself behind you. All too aware of the others watching him. "Don't gotta talk to be warm." He held his arm over your waist, waiting for approval to bring it down.

        "I have the fire." You grunted.

        That wasn't a no. His arm draped over your waist, pulled your back flush to his warm front. The floor was still freezing but Mohawk was like a furnace. You didn't relax into him but you let it happen, took the comfort you desperately needed. Markus's discomfort, palpable from across the room, was a plus. 

        ***

        You counted the days as they passed. One, two, seven, nine. The first few were wrought with tension. Everyone but Mohawk, who had no idea, was pissed at Seb. You both were annoyed by Markus though you didn't share this with Seb. He'd kept the jerky from you too so right now you weren't feeling very buddy-buddy.

        You ate the last of the bugs as they died of old ages skittering in your palms. There'd been a few close calls where Scars and Lensless flew overhead. The worst happened one morning when they landed on the bases roof. Everyone went still. Prayed to God they wouldn't hear the surge of heartbeats through the rock and fabric covered holes.

        They only touched down a second. Lensless heaving and telling Scars to, "Slow down."        

        "No." Scars snapped. "This is survival, we can't just slow down."

        "We should still conserve energy." Lensless huffed. "Dunno when we'll run into those weaselly assholes."

        Scars made a noncommittal noise before his boots left the roof. "Come on."

        Lensless sighed. Debris rained as they took off.       

         Nobody moved for minutes until Mohawk snapped, "Are we all just a bunch'a pussies? They were right there!"

        "Keep your voice down," Maskless said.

        "You didn't make a move either." Markus said.

        Mohawk reeled on him, "Because I know you pussies wouldn't back me up." 

        None of them object. You do, "I would. We can still go." 

        Mohawk was a strange case. He was obnoxious, always ready to bite someone's head off, but he didn't turn your boyfriend into jerky. He backed you up on arguments with Markus he had nothing to do with. He kept you warm at night. He told Gray to stop fucking you with his eyes so much. 

        You weren't quite friends like you and Seb were, even closer post-fuck with lots of time to talk about nothing (when you momentarily forgot you were mad at him and got lonely) but you didn't exactly hate Mohawk either. You wouldn't die for him, but you were more than okay with the idea of helping him kill those fuckers. 

        "No, you're not," Markus said like he was judge, jury, and executioner. Intent on protecting you though you'd been snappish and cold toward him for days.

        "You can't stop me." You said knowing he could. Knowing despite your fully healed leg you couldn't control Markus. You thought you had in Japan when you first met but you saw it now- he was just placating his wife. You added, "I can make the others stop you from keeping me here."

        His eyes darkened. "You can barley control those two at the same time." 

        Seb barked out a, "Hey!"

        Maskless rolled his eyes. Hating that he was your personal training dummy. "We're not having this conversation again. Nobody's letting (Y/n) leave because you idiots won't admit she's a valuable asset who could make sure those freaks don't move while we lop their heads off. This wouldn't be a hard decision if you weren't all selfish assholes."

        Mohawk narrowed his eyes on Maskless. "Why do you care all of a sudden?" Nobody had fessed up to whose spit was on your breath days ago. For all Mohawk knew, Maskless switched teams. 

        Maskless looked exasperated. "I don't. I just know if I was alone in the desert, you would've killed me already. The only reason you haven't is because I'm the one who found her." It was a truth they'd all been dancing around. Maskless wasn't part of the wider universal play involving you, he'd fallen to the wayside. No one but Seb would care if he died. Once the jerky dried up, he was next.

        "Why would we do that?" Markus snapped though they all knew why. A Mark alone was a sitting duck waiting to be eaten by the duo. The only reason Mohawk hadn't been was he was fast. Avoidant. 

        You vaguely recalled Maskless pulling you out of the cave. The hours after him splinting your leg. You should've said it days ago, "Thanks for that by the way, even if you just did it to keep yourself alive."

        He rolled his eyes but said nothing. He felt a bit guilty about you knowing, but it was the truth. 

        Markus didn't like where this was going. "She's not a survival totem."

        Maskless threw up his arms, "She literally is! The only reason we have food and water is because of her." The bugs and the Mark meat. "Those two want her, she could be bait and we could sneak up on them or something. Anything's better than just sitting here doing nothing."

        Mohawk bobbed his head along. "Gay one's got a point."

        Maskless's lips thinned. Gray's expression gave no tells. "It's too dangerous to use her at bait." A few weeks ago he'd think differently but now all he saw when he looked at you was pleasure unclaimed. Too rare to give up.

        Maskless didn't care. He just needed the quiet part they'd all been avoiding to be said, "She already is bait to you people. The only reason you assholes haven't killed each other yet is you don't want to die in the fight and not be the last guy standing who gets to fuck her till you both die." He turned to you, "I'm sure you're great and all but this macho bullshit is insane. Can't we just take care of the problem now so it's not one later?"

        "No." Markus wasn't listening to the greater point, just digging in his heels like he always did.

        This could go on forever. You stood, "I'm going to bed."

        You went to warmest corner you could and curled into a shivering ball. Peace and almost quiet, until Seb came over. Gray and Markus watched him as they bickered on. 

        "You look like you need this more than me." He said as you uncurled.         

        You cringed at the fabric. It used to be white, but it'd since gone gray with sweat and sand stains. His tank top, the only thing worthwhile him and Maskless recovered from camp. He hadn't worn it for a long while. The sight of it made you remember it's absence during your encounter. His bare chest. A dull heat lit in your stomach.

        "Didn't think we were at the sharing clothes stage." You mumbled as you took it, slipped it over your head and let it come around you like a terrible smelling blanket. 

        He huffed out his nose, flopping down beside you. Mask pushed back into his hair. He'd worn it a lot less since then too. Only worn under the sun to protect his face going tomato red and peely. The others saw his face, so what was the point in hiding what they all knew was there anyway? 

        He gave you a look like you didn't make him cum twice. "Seriously?"

        You shrugged, his shirt pressing in, thin and barely retaining your heat. "Never did that with any of mine." You keep the words vague, watching Mohawk's back. Thinking of the first Mark who broke your heart. Accidentally wearing his sweaty socks the morning after, his boxers too loose under your pants. You hadn't done that with anyone else. 

        "I mean, me neither but-" He paused when Markus turned to him a mildly murderous look. "Yeesh." Seb threw out his voice for the whole room to hear, "Don't mind us being normal and well adjusted over here."

        Heads turn, faces are made. It's Maskless who speaks, "Cool, yeah, just step outside the conversation about our survival, guys."

        Seb rose a middle finger with a lazy smile. Maskless chuffed but said nothing else. Turning back to the others to bitch them out. "See that?" Seb said.

        "What?"

        "Asshole didn't attack me cuz we're cool." They had to be, trapped in the desert alone together for to weeks. Maskless knew Seb cared, knew Seb was just as stressed and was better than him- able to step away for a breather. "We're like, totally buddies now."

        "No, we're not." Maskless said mid-argument with Markus before getting right back to it.

        "He doesn't mean that." Seb whispered.

        "Yes I do."

        "He doesn't." 

        Maskless dropped it. Seb grinned, lighting a new feeling in your stomach, jealousy. They had a bond you didn't have with anyone. It'd been a week out in the new hideout but you'd been dismissive and avoidant of anything longer than a five minute conversation. If you wanted that, you'd have to engage. Come out of the mental cave Mark trapped you in. You were going to die out here, you'd accepted that in the cave. Why not make more friends? Why not try to be happy? You had nothing but time with them, no rent, no quota to reach for Machine Head, you were more free than you had ever been. It wasn't like you'd had to try very hard for them to care about you and plus, if they did care about you- they just might take you to Phantom. With him gone you could put Mark to rest.

        You closed your eyes and focused on the crackling fire.

        The argument went in hotel-revolving-door circles while you slept. 

        That daddy-loving freak never gave. He said you should always be protected, always be safe, but how could you be with the assholes prowling the desert?  Mohawk argued until he couldn't hold it in, he needed to hit something but daddy-wannabe dearest would whine about the attention it'd draw. So he left, flying into the atmosphere hoping the thinning air would help him think.

        Of course he didn't want those freaks to kill you, but he wanted to see you murder those freaks at the same time. He wanted to see you get revenge- God the idea of you pissed and bloody got him going. But he couldn't relish the moment if he was busy holding off Scars and Lensless if only-

        He almost didn't hear the flap of fabric. Mohawk spun, fist reeled back, ready to bash Scars head in.

        Gray hovered in the black night. Arms tucked behind his back. "You watched them for a time, yes?"        

        Mohawk paused but didn't unwind. High above the camp, where no one could see or hear them fighting- perfect grounds for an ambush killing. "Yeah." 

        "Where are they usually at this time of night?"

        "Sleeping or eating parts of that other guy."

        Gray nodded. "And how long do they usually do that for?"        

        ***

       Mohawk looked over the dunes. Camp a spot in the distance. Early day sun beating on his skin. "You really think they won't hear?" 

        "They will." Gray said evenly, "They'll most likely come to investigate as well. We'll tell them if they do."

        Mohawk blinked at the other man. The two of them hovered feet over the sand. Well, three of them technically, but Phantom wasn't floating, he was laying on Mohawk's back. Seeping blood and drool into his torn suit. 

        "I thought you said we wouldnt tell any-"

        Gray didn't wait for him to finish. He dove into the rock they'd found jutting out of the ground. Impact a firework crack in the dawn. Surely picked up by everyone at camp, considering they were only a mile away. Gray was back at his side, dust and rocks already spun off his nearly pristine uniform before Mohawk could curse him out. "I said we wouldn't tell (Y/n) for some time." 

        Mohawk's nostrils flared but he lowered into the freshly dug cavern. Entrance hidden under a small rocky ledge. "So you just conveniently left out the part where everyone else finds out and is pissed at us- mostly me because your slimy ass is gonna lie and say you weren't involved."

        "Lying is not productive." Gray followed him inside. Watched as Mohawk threw Phantom down. He landed in a slumped seat, unreacting and pale. Obtaining Phantom wasn't the hard part, it was making sure Scars and Lensless were far enough away to get in and out. Gray was sure they were weak- human flesh and blood dehydrated the body, clouded the mind. But they seemed surprisingly lucid, leaving their camp lightning quick just as the sun was rising. As though eating Phantom's limbs raw had made them better. Maybe it had. They'd waited for hours, scooped Phantom up and flew fast and hard until they were sure they hadn't been seen. 

        "What's your plan then?" Mohawk appreciated Gray's attitude, but was wary. Gray's eyes seemed to glaze over him- like he'd already decided he was an afterthought just like dad had. Mohawk proved dad wrong, dead wrong. Was itching to do the same thing to Gray if need be.

        Gray lowered to his haunches, pulling a vial from his waistband. "(Y/n) wants revenge. She'll get it but-" he paused to unwrap Phantom's gauze, exposing hot, throbbing wounds, reeking with infection, "-she'll have to wait."

        Mohawk watched him work the liquid into the red stumps. "Why not just let him hurt?"

        Gray didn't stop. "He's hours from death and (Y/n) isn't ready to see him. She'll kill him on sight and live to regret not getting answers. He has to be lucid. If it makes you feel better, its a healing accelerant not a pain killer."

        Markus couldn't have come at a better time. Leaving the other two to watch (Y/n) while he investigated that sudden noise outside. He didn't need to ask any questions to know what was going on. The secret hideout, the wound-healing-accelerator on Phantom's stumps, everything he overheard. He'd thought of it too, bringing the revenge to (Y/n) but he wasn't sure- Gray was. He could admire that.

        He could feel Mohawk's apprehension, waiting for the scolding he associated with Markus.

        "How long until he's stable?" Markus asked.

        "Few days." Gray said. "A week at most, the infection is in his blood."

        Mohawk hovered by the exit. Anxious to see (Y/n), ring burning in his pocket. "Stable but not able to hurt her right?"

        "Theoretically he could still kill her in this state." Gray finished, hands bloodied. He made a note to bring rags and a small basin of water. "But he won't." 

        "You can see the future now or what?" Mohawk said.

        "I spoke with Maskless." Gray said holding back a smile. He liked the little nicknamed you'd given them all very much. They were helpful and personal and made him happy. "He claimed Phantom talked about working extensively with the human government-"

        Mohawk clicked his tongue, "Yeah, so did I, doesn't mean anything."

        "I did as well." Markus said, and knew working alongside the GDA did not mean you were a good person. 

        Gray didn't know why he was surprised by this. They just seemed so... sure of themselves, like they didn't need someone in there ear telling them what to do- like Gray had all his life.

        "Ah." He rose, moving his hands so fast the blood flung off of them and painted the walls. He could make a hideout for Phantom but never promised a good one, he didn't deserve it. "Maskless also reported his (Y/n) was killed by his father, not by him." It was said without emotion, yet Markus and Mohawk felt like they'd been hit with a bowling ball. Phantom was pathetic, desperate, but in one singular way, better than them both.

        Mohawk prowled forward, fists balled. "Don't act like you're better than me-"

        Gray watched him come, saying evenly, "I mean nothing by it. I killed her of my own volition."

        That gave Mohawk pause, "Well, I didn't." He spat, almost feeling like the bigger man. Knowing he wasn't. He could've controlled himself better. He thought part of him gutted her on purpose. Sometimes he wondered if she survived if he would've killed her anyway.

        "She is dead." Gray said matter-of-factly before nodding his head in the direction of camp, "She is not. You came for a second chance, so did he. We must trust he won't ruin it." He moved around Mohawk and flew quietly back to camp. 

        ***

        Lensless's back hit the wall, which shattered around them. They struggled against one another until they fell heavy down into the sand. Scars atop him, hands fisted in his collar. "Where is he!?"

        Lensless who had just gotten home from a day of fruitless scouting, blinked up stupidly at Scars- before the fist came cracking up under his chin.

        He was reeling but laughed as he said, "What are you talking about, dude?"

        Thinking this was some game, some kind of roleplay scenario Scars made to fight. Fine by Lensless. He hadn't been able to properly flex his muscles in weeks. He missed fighting, missed killing more.

        "He's gone!" Scars lunged. 

        Lensless narrowly dodged, feeling a gust of wind slap across his face. "No way. He has one leg and can't talk. There's no way he got away."

        Scars pivoted midair. "That's what I thought until I realized- the only person would could've taken him was you." He was coming again. Faster than Lensless could dodge. Fist pushing up into his solar plexus, sending him shooting into the air, blood spewing from his dry lips.

        "I didn't!" Lensless whined as he put on the brakes. Launching himself toward Scars rather than waiting. 

        "You knew we'd run out of him eventually. You hid him from me to have all the meat to yourself!"

        They met. Fist to hand, holding each other off with straining muscles and scowls. "Is it so hard to believe someone could've rescued him?" Lensless half-snarled, half-grinned.

        "We haven't seen anyone else in weeks!" Scars knee came up and kissed Lensless's crotch. He doubled over, opening his back for Scars elbow to come down. 

        Lensless landed in the hot uncaring sand. A cloud formed around him, sucking particles into his lungs with every breath. Scars landed hard, one foot on Lensless's chest ready to push down, break it open, pierce his heart on a rib. Lensless grabbed his ankle bruisingly hard, bearing teeth as he said, "We haven't seen bones either, bro." 

        ***

        Mohawk's hair brushed against the cave roof. "Come on, babe, you gotta try harder than that if you want it back." 

        You had been trying for the better part of five minutes to get him to come down. At first you were able to make him float down, nearly land, but soon as your single stolen boot was in reach, the control would wane and he'd snap back to the ceiling. Taunting you again. 

        Day fourteen with these assholes in the new base. Things weren't bad. You'd been trying to loosen up which was hard when you'd been so tightly wound these last few years. Not holding grudges was something you were unaccustomed to. Often you had to look to Seb for inspiration on how to be easy going. Conversation flowed from him in spigots despite how angry everyone was at him two weeks ago. He didn't seem to care, always sharing a story that related to something. Always funny or fucked up but relatable, endearing. 

        Markus made a point to never laugh at his jokes, but you swore you saw him half smile whenever you did. He hovered around you an annoying amount. After a few days you stopped batting him away as hard. You hadn't forgiven him, but it was better to not stay bitter- a habit that was difficult to grow out of. He never held anything against you, even when you were shitty. It made the idea of talking to him, messing with him a little more appealing- fun. Your affections cast like bait he always bit at and the more time went on, the more you liked the bite. Markus liked to act tough, but when you talked to him, were sweeter on him than you had been in weeks, he melted like wax. Relaxed those broad shoulders and chiding tone. 

        Then there was Gray. With stories of his own that were mildly terrifying with how dystopian they were. He hovered, nowhere nearly often as Markus, always off somewhere doing something for hours on end. You thought he was scavenging so you never thought to ask. He helped you build beds and a terrible storage bin that collapsed in on itself every two days, but you always came together to rebuild it. Hoping it'd hold but it never did. You swore Gray sabotaged it on purpose.

        Maskless watched the romcom bullshit from the sidelines. Most often found with Seb talking about nothing. Hands always busy breaking down kindling or sewing Seb a hammock or air boxing. The idea of sparring had been thrown around too many times to count but Markus always shot it down, seconded by Gray everytime. It'd attract attention. 

        Meanwhile, you trained here and there. Working with your latest, very willing test subject, Mohawk. Who you kept trying to goad into taking you to kill Phantom. He'd just smile and say, "When you don't suck," and steal something of yours in hopes you could control him into giving it back.

        At first, you could make him give it back. But after days of no food only water, your strength was starting to wane. The others had busted out the Mark meat not long ago. You always left when they did, sitting on the other end of the cave. His smell stuck inside your nose as you tried not to imagine how his flesh would melt in your mouth. The more days went by, the less you vividly you could remember him. It'd only been thirteen days after all. You spent more time with this group than him by now. And you wondered why you were still holding on. You felt silly for it. But you still hadn't eaten. It showed in how Mohawk barely moved when you said, "Get your ass down here."

        Hands on his narrow hips he hummed, "I don't think I will!"

        His cocky grin made your guts flip. It reminded you of Mark. The before Mark. The pre cave crazy Mark. It wasn't fair he was hot. Fine, two could play at that game. "I'll hold your hand."

        He cackled, "You think I'm gonna go easy on you to hold your hand?"

        "For a whole minute. Won't move away or nothin'," you waved at him, "this baby is all yours." It was a push and pull game, the flirting. Once you started you couldn't stop, finding that leaning into affection felt better than leaning away. It helped you forget. Replace the bad memories, shitty as it made you feel.

        Heels hit the ground so hard they cracked rock. Mohawk snatched your hand from the air, held one between two, staring at it like a precious diamond. You actually didn't think it'd work. Didn't think holding your hand would mean that much to anybody. Thought at least, you'd have to barter to a kiss on the cheek or something more intimate- or that he wouldn't take the deal at all. Training was a good idea but you hit a wall without eating anything. You wouldn't eat Mark. Not yet. 

        Markus didn't look up from the water he was boiling. "That's not training."

        "I think making the ruler of a powerful empire do what I say is something but you do you." 

        Mohawk batted his lashes at you, squeezing your hand between his, "You think my empire is powerful?"

        "No shit, it's an empire."

        He grinned and interlaced your fingers. Without a timer and without a care, the touch lingered longer than a minute.

        ***

        They stood in the remains. Broken down in their fight that lasted too long. Energy wasted on bickering when they should've been looking for Phantom. They sifted through the rubble, looking for dried brown trails, sniffing for blood so hard they were lightheaded. Except they'd been lightheaded for weeks. Surviving on blood had crossed some wires, fried the others, left them perpetually achy and brain fogged. 

        Which was probably why it took them so long to realize they weren't betraying each other. 

        Lensless chucked another piece of rubble that looked just like the rest. "He's definitely not in here."

        "No shit." Scars said.

        Lensless kicked another piece. "Definitely not anywhere. Just gone. Disappeared like the rest of them."

        Scars was quiet a moment, trying to envision that day you'd gone missing, to see the other versions of him. "How many of us were there when we first came?"

        Lensless thought hard, pressing on his eyes. "I don't remember."

        ***

        "Just eat it." Easy enough for Seb to say, chewing a piece down to the juices in his cheek. "Tastes way better than the bugs."

        You swallowed. Looked down at the piece of red-brown meat in your palms. A handful of ounces had never felt so heavy. Day sixteen in the new base, almost a week of no food. You'd boiled the shells of the bugs, tried to convince yourself it tasted like broth, but your powers had gone completely. You needed to eat. 

        Gray watched you, leaning forward on his knees, trying to catch your eyes, "If you want revenge-"

        He'd said this already.

        "I have to eat, I know." You finished for him. "I just-" You looked up, locking eyes with him. Swallowing, throat dry despite recently sipping boiled cave water. You'd been letting details of your time with Mark slip out of you in a slow drip. 

        Another drip escapes you now. Partly because of the crack that'd formed inside you as the hunger consumed you, partly because you hoped a sob story would make them give in to what you wanted. "He told me about his dad throwing him in prison." The words make Gray go stiff, the idea so out there for him he didn't know what to say. "It ruined him, he was so different from all of you because of that one thing his dad did. I keep thinking about what I'd do if I met his dad, but I literally have. I had dinner with Mister Grayson a few times before everything went to piss. He scared the shit out of me just as some suburban dad and I think- what could I do against that? Could I have even changed what happened to him?"

        "Nothing." Gray said. "Father is one of the most promising solders in the empire." 

        You frowned at the meat. Why were you frowning? Had he said the wrong thing? That's why you were starting the conversation, correct? That his father, that Viltrum was impossible to resist? God, he didn't understand humans at all.

        Mohawk cackled over the fire crackle. "Are you kidding? I murdered the fuck outta dad when I was like sixteen."

        Now that got your mind off of things, a possibility no Mark had ever told you about, "Seriously?"

        Mohawk's back straightened at your attention. In his world, he was showered with praise and attention at all times, but the only thing that mattered through all the politics and conquering was beginning and ending his day with you. Out here, you attention was always split between different versions of himself. He was subject to watch as you grew closer to shittier versions of himself. He could share, really, he wasn't as immature as he acted, but not in these wastes. Not when he was so starved of things to think about. He wanted you all the time, none of the other distractions. 

        Whatever. He could think about murder and double crossing later. Right now, he had your attention. "Yeah, it wasn't even that hard."

        ***

        Mohawk's head was partly split open. Oozing brains over his brow and hairline. Hurt like a motherfucker but that was fine. Everything was hunky-dorey-okey-dokey-artichoke-y because dad was finally dead. Beat brainless into the side of Mount Fuji. 

        "Should've," huff, "told," huff, "me," huff, "earlier," huff, "dipshit."

        Dad's broken jaw doesn't twitch. No more lectures. No more holier than thou bullshit.

        A fat shadow encompassed the mountain. Mohawk looked up and saw his ride. His future stretched ahead of him, deceptively straight forward.

        ***

        "So yeah, babe, with me around you ain't gotta worry about no dad." Mohawk said.

        "She was literally talking about the prisoner's Nolan." Maskless nibbled one of the dryer sticks of meat.

        You looked down at your own stick of meat. Wishing it was Mark's dad, it would've made things so much easier. You felt sick now. Knowing in another life Mark could've defended himself, killed Nolan. Your Mark lived, didn't go to prison but he threw you in it. This shit wasn't fair. 

          "Nolan was the most powerful man on Earth, he worked with powerful people. He had resources. How did he never look into me? I wasn't very good at hiding what I was doing when I first started working with Machine Head. We talked on unsecure lines. He didn't have anyone watching his son's girlfriend? Did he just not care? No cameras, no tails, no nothing?"

        Seb tapped at your side with his shoe. "Where are you going with this?" 

        "I never worried about him, but the more you guys talk about him the more I think I should have. I saw on the news after. He was there when I fought Mark." Machine Head's office was fucked, of course there were people recording the high rise. And who did they catch hovering hundreds of feet above the building? Omni Man. "I didn't know Invincible was Omni-Man's son, I didn't even know Mark was Invincible. He hid it from me. I wonder if Nolan was surprised to see me in there or just thought yeah, that makes sense."

       Seb poked you again. "You gonna eat that or just keep babbling?" 

        Markus gave him a look but spoke to you, "Knowing my father, he knew and he didn't care."

        Seb snorted, "Knowing mine, he didn't even know Mark had a girlfriend."

        "They were close in my world. I wonder what he said after Mark broke up with me." You wanted to slap a hand over your mouth soon as you said it. Cat's out the bag. Mohawk already hit the nail on the head but saying it outright was something else. Weight both off and on your shoulders. You test it, saying, "I tried to stop him. It didn't work."

        Blood shot out of your nose. Headache like a hammer to your temple. You on the ground. Machine Head's hired grunts unconscious around you. Mark's eyes were wild on you, "Did you- Did you just-!?"

        You had tried to make him forget while he ranted and raved about what you'd done. Instead you found the ceiling of your powers. The way he looked at you like shit on his shoe made your heart ache. You felt sick, you had no fight left.

        "Yeah." You breathed, "Yeah I did."

        "You can't just control me like that! Have you done that before?!"

        "No." You wiped the blood rolling from your nose. "I'd never do it unless I had to Mark- I love you. I don't want to lose you!"

        He laughed. Actually laughed. Mean and angry. You heard that sound every night in your dreams for the next few years as your life circled the drain. "You don't love me."

        Mohawk doesn't laugh this time. Today he's not bitter. Today is he soft and malleable and maybe if you gave enough of yourself away, he'd take you to Phantom and let you kill him.

        "Fuck him." Mohawk sounded genuinely angry. "Fuck him, like actually. That's the most romantic shit I've ever heard done by someone who isn't me."

        Seb rose a brow at him. "What'd you do Romeo?"

        "What didn't I do." Mohawk looked and sounded far away before his eyes re-focused on you. "He didn't deserve you, fucking asshole."

        "I know." You half smile before getting back to your train of thought, "I tried to stop Mark too." Because you don't think they get it, you add, "In the caves. He was freaking out and I tried to calm him down and he just-" Your hands burned. You realized you were gripping the meat hard, so hard your knuckles were pale. At least you weren't crying. 

        "He killed himself." Gray watched your hands but didn't move, willing them to open, willing the pain to leave your face.

        "I know." You grit out.

        "You misunderstand me. He did that to himself of his own volition."

        Your hands opened, you could see the outline of where the meat was pressing into your palm. "His own volition." You echoed, "My powers are based in interpretation. Whatever you think they mean, you do. He thought stop meant kill himself so he did it- because of me. He didn't want to do anything, he thought I wanted him dead." 

        "Oh, come the fuck on!" Mohawk threw his hands up, "So what? He was weak and stupid! You've said you want us all dead! Who cares! Do you know how many of us would've loved to be trapped in a cave alone with you? I wouldn't have gone apeshit, that's for sure. Apeshit on that-"

        "You're not helping." Markus said.

        "He knew what he was getting into." Gray said. For once, actually saying the right thing.

        He did know. He gave you a grand tour. Knew Phantom was in on it. Let it all happen knowing he wouldn't be able to handle it. For taking you down there to love you, to die, you start to hate him. 

        Still you hesitate to bring the meat to your lips. Mohawk said with too much confidence, "If he was as pussy-whipped as you make him out to be, he'd want you to eat him. I know I would."

        You bring the meat closer. Stomach churning. Lips opening. "I wouldn't want any of you to eat me."

        You're about to bite down when Mohawk nudges his head into your arm. Nuzzling. "I know babe, you want all of us dead. Which totally isn't happening but if I do die before you, take a cut out my shlong, yeah? That thing's gonna one juicy sausage. Mama mia."

        "That's not funny." You're laughing and cringing as you bite down.

        ***

        Scars dragged his head above the water that dripped near black grime off his face. It'd been a stroke of luck that him and Lensless had found this place. The both of them gone crazy from months without any water when they were so used to having it a short flight away. They'd tried to soothe their throats with blood, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd dranken Phantom's blood. He should've savored it- but that didn't matter now. He had water again.

        The cave hadn't been there before. They shoved dried bug carcasses into their mouths. Guzzling water from the queen's throne whenever they were slightly thirsty, which was all the time. They wandered the cave, finding cave ins that smelled of meat and smoke and most importantly- you. 

        For all they knew, this was the only water source left on the plant. For all they knew, someone would come for it and the abandoned shelter. For all they knew, there was no one left at all.

        Days pass.

        The smell dissipates. The remaining bugs, corpses and living, are eaten. Hunger they were unused to gnaws at their psyche. They drool over the queen's pool thinking of raw flesh. They watch the hole to the ceiling from dark corners, waiting to ambush. Day turns to night to day. Nobody comes. They search and find no caves or bodies or people wandering the waste. 

        They begin to wonder if any of it was real at all.

        ***

        Day seventeen in the new hideout.

        Laughter is more common. Jaws are looser. Friendship is an open current passing between you all. Even Maskless who swears up and down he hates you all, has waning venom in his tone. Despite the summer camp attitude, the threat looming in the wastes was still real. Last night Scars and Lensless roamed nearby dunes, screaming into the night. 

        "Is anybody there?"

        "Helllllooooooooo?"       

        You thought they were trying to lure you out. Trying to find a replacement for Phantom because he was near death or dead. You tried to convince any of them to let you outside. To make them and their fried brains to take you to Phantom. To kill the whole lot of them easy peasy. 

        You opened your mouth to command someone, anyone to remove Markus from blocking the fucking exit when he said it.

        "I'll take you soon." Gray is behind you. So close he nearly boxes you into Markus's waiting chest. "You have to be patient."        

        "When is soon?"

        "Soon." 

        That night Gray stayed the night in the tiny hovel. Monitoring Phantom's progress. Willing him to wake, to speak. Gray was a patient man but it was wearing thin. He needed your praise for a job well done. Desired it. Had wet dreams about it. 

        Again, Phantom didn't wake in the night.

        ***

        Another day of training. This time your mentee was Gray. Seb had excused himself not long after Gray returned. Said he was going to look for supplies. They'd been doing that an awful lot the past few days. Searching in shifts. You thought little of it. You assumed it was better if only one person left at a time to minimize risk of being spotted by the crazies.

        You sat on stools of cool rock facing each other. You hurled commands at Gray. Fed and watered, expecting easy compliance. You get a battle.

        "Stand up."

        He stayed seated.

        "Get up."

       He did not.

        "Move!"

        Nothing.

        "Tell me why you're so hard to control."

        "The Mark of your world never joined the Empire, correct?" His voice is like a godsend. Finally you got him to do something. Eagerly, you nod. "Was there anyone sent from the Empire to coerce him into doing so?" You wrack your brain but simply don't know. Mark faught so many aliens on the news all the time, you tried to avoid the stories entirely. Gray hums, "You wouldn't know him then- my mentor."

        You lean forward. High on control. "Who was that?"

        "Conquest." He said. 

        You blink. "Like the concept or?"

        "Be advised you are not controlling me and I'm giving up this information of my own volition." The words are like a slap to each each cheek. You never felt the connection, never felt his mind in your grasp, you'd just been too excited to notice. Motherfucker. "He's the best of us. My mother was worried he'd kill me in training but I survived."

        You dropped the training ball, curious now. "How's hitting shit make you resistant to me?" 

        His brows rose. "Mental fortitude is important in battle." 

        That... Made a lot of sense. Markus seemed plenty mentally steely and you couldn't get him to raise a finger.

        "Hm." Learn something new everyday but you didn't quite like the taste of defeat. You go for the jugular, which always seemed so exposed with these men when it came to you, "Kiss me."

        Heads turn right as Gray practically lunged out of his seat. Hands still tucked behind his back while his lips met yours. Kiss so hard, your lips were pressed to your teeth. As soon as it was happened, he was pulling himself away pink cheeked.

        "Hey!" Mohawk was across the cave at ready to punch his throat, "What the fuck!?"

        "Congratulations." Gray slid back into his chair. "You controlled me."

        Mohawk's fist paused. "Wait- hey- why'd you tell him to do that?"

        You shrug, "Thought it'd be worth a shot and it was. I win." Except you knew Gray was lying and had lying in wait hoping you'd pull a desperate move. Clever. 

        "Your control didn't last long." Gray said, eyes intense. He was practically begging you to ask him again. His slowly growing erection was also begging. He shifted, hiding it under the fabric. 

        You know what his shifting legs means, had seen it plenty since your encounter. You smirked, knowing a distracted target was an easy one. "Spin around."

        Gray hovered and did a stiff about face. Throwing off the control after a spin and a half but looking mildly perturbed. "You-" 

        "That's two for two." You remind him of the lie you were mutually spinning.

        He swallowed, wiping the surprise off his face quick as it appeared. "You're getting better but we must pursue training to ensure you can hold onto a target longer than a second." He sat again, crossing his legs. 

        "Me next." Mohawk insisted. "Me!"

        You give him a look that isn't withering, "You'd do that anyways." 

        He ignored Gray, ignored the lesson at hand to lean into your personal space. Smelling of sweat, breath spray, and cologne he hastily applied once he thought you were open to make out. Sure, he was jealous but Gray could be dealt with later. What mattered more now was you. "That such a bad thing?"        

        You hum pretending to consider. "What'll you give me in return?"

        "Best orgasm of your life." His voice was teasing but his face was serious. 

        Heat suddenly sparked in your core. You swallowed down the fluttering in your chest, "I can DIY that one, thanks." Though honestly? You were tempted. You hadn't been able to get your rocks off in weeks, not since Seb, who seemed content not pursuing things again if it meant no one was mad at him. You knew you'd have to find a replacement sooner or later. Like Mohawk who was offering, even if he was a dick. "What else you got?"

        Seb rushed into the room then, wide eyed, mouth open. Words die on his tongue when he sees you. "Uhm- uh- the thing is- yeah."

        They spoke cryptically for a few moments, as you watched. Gray said he had something to show you. Mohawk said not to freak out. They took you outside. Flew over the dunes a half second before taking you inside a boulder.

        Your mouth was agape, nose burning with the smell of days old blood. The heat prickled at your skin despite the shade.

        It was hard not to when the reason for Mark dying was right there. Leaning sweaty and pathetic against the wall. Hair shaven from his scalp. Five o'clock shadow gone into a full midnight, the stubbly beard longer than the hair on his head. His suit was torn and abused, exposing peeling skin. Most disconcerting was the glaringly obvious lack of limbs on one side of his body. Stumps pink with newly grown skin and blisters. 

        Despite the hell he'd been through, his glassy blue eyes were looking at you like you were an angel sent from above to bring him salvation. You were anything but.

        ***

        Across universes, across dimensions, Angstrom Levy was nearly finished paying off his debts to the Technitions. Daydreaming constantly about the revenge he'd enact on one Mark Grayson. 

[faiszt]

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ .⠀⠀⠀˚⠀ ⠀⋆⠀ ⠀ROBERT REYNOLDS IN⠀⠀:⠀⠀♥︎

02.⠀A BLACK CAR AND TWO KISSES ⠀꒰ summary ꒱⠀❛❛ i only want him if he says it first to me. ❜❜ ⠀ he looks like he works with his hands and smells like marlboro reds. ✴⠀the rush was taking over you as one. something you had never felt, something you know you shouldn’t have felt, but your thoughts were taking over more than the rush and you were in his car again, thinking that, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let yourself live for the first time.⠀ LAST CHAPTER

·⠀୨୧⠀·⠀contains⠀:⠀pastor’s son!bob &. younger naive!reader.⠀mentions of religion.⠀age gap ꒰ all characters are of legal age ꒱⠀ family ’n mommy issues.⠀no use of y/n.⠀strong language.⠀cheating.⠀wordcount⠀:⠀6.6k⠀!!

·⠀୨୧⠀·⠀sweet taglist⠀:⠀@lewispullsman ⠀ @rawanevil @morganfullaaa ⠀ ⠀ @hypnobeauty ⠀ ⠀ @petersluvbug @sentryluvs ⠀ ⠀ @em1989ts ⠀⠀ @mommymilkers0526 @imdefonothere ⠀ to be added comment here! ♥︎ ృ

my masterlist and the guidelines!⠀꒰ THE PLAYLIST ꒱

IN THE SILENCE OF LOVE, hate sometimes echoes louder.

the only sentence you heard being whispered against your ear before you felt your wrists being locked behind your back, just like your ankles—as you were thrown into the lake. sinking immediately, you felt your chest hurt, as if it might explode as you tried to scream and struggle inside the freezing water, drowning.

fear, despair, anger. a mix of emotions rising through your mind, making you go crazy in your last attempt to breathe. you would never return to what you were.

death.

your heart raced when you woke from your sleep, panting and sweating as if you were being warned, as if your subconscious needed to tell you something, something you chose not to listen to. “jesus...” a long sigh escaped your lips in an attempt to calm down, a hand going towards your chest. “i’m fine... i’m fine, it was just a stupid nightmare.” you tried to convince yourself before looking at the digital clock on the nightstand. 11am, you overslept.

the noise inside and outside the house was noticeable, which was nothing new when you had two energetic little girls in the house who woke up early in the morning. brushing your teeth was a reflective task when you were thinking so much, almost forgetting what happened yesterday, but you couldn’t completely forget it even if you wanted to.

no one would ever know about it, perhaps for the sake of your own reputation. at best, you would only be kicked out of your house if your mother knew that you came in bob’s car late at night without his fiancée around or anyone else.

you just had to not show that there was anything different, so she could live in her fantasy of a perfect family. as if she hadn’t been a sinner since the day she got pregnant by your father in a one night stand. what a hypocrite, demanding of you what she did not do. you had to roll your eyes in the mirror when you thought about it.

“you woke up... almost lunch time.” your mother grumbled bitterly when she saw you yawn into the kitchen. there was always a tension in the room when it was just you and her, as if the light had been sucked out even when it was daylight. you heard the judgment even when she was just being sarcastic and mean to you because she could be.

a wry smile crept onto your lips, your eyes falling to your feet as you walked to the fridge, wanting to hydrate your dry throat from the time you had that nightmare. “yeah, good morning to you too.” your attempt to avoid any conflict was the only thing you knew how to do since you were thirteen, probably, it was the most sensible way to act.

but, she was never satisfied. work hard, work hard and it’s still not enough, why can’t you be what she wants? it’s so simple, just do it. “come home from church alone last night?” the question made you stay silent for a moment, drinking the water with your back to her in the same way she had her back to you while cutting some vegetables.

“yes. i’ll meet mrs. reynolds at church again today.” it wasn’t the first time you lied about something, strangely it felt better to lie whenever she used that tone of voice where you didn’t know if she wanted to kill you or not, it was hard to understand her when she seemed to want to see you confused. “i’m not gonna have lunch, i can buy something to eat later.”

just like your silence from before, your mother also fell silent, the only noise in the kitchen being the sound of the knife hitting the wood of the board where she was cutting carrots on top. “don’t come back late, your sisters only sleep when you get home.” she said coldly, still with her back to you even as you walked past her. “and if the neighbors see you coming home late, you know what happens, so don’t do it.”

“i know, i’ll be back before dark.” it wasn’t like it would take that long to help mrs. reynolds at church, you’d be home early and could just... stay in your room alone and quiet until dinner. but, let’s face it, mrs. reynolds could probably go on for, at least, four hours talking nonstop about absolutely any subject. she talked to you more than your own mother, how funny.

later.

2pm, the sun was shining through your bedroom window when you finished putting on your dress and went out, telling your mother that you were going to the church to help mrs. reynolds like you had said to her before. with a not very pleasant look, the older woman nodded, but not before muttering a: “what a weird dress.” as if she wasn’t the one who bought it for you.

like any other day, you ignored her before walking past your father—watching the news in the living room with one of your younger sisters sitting next to him. a smile played on your lips, thinking about how similar they were. “hey, hey... where are you going?” the little girl almost jumped off the couch the second she saw you heading towards the door.

curious and energetic, the kind that probably had the energy to spend an entire day running around the yard if your parents didn’t set limits on her. “church. why?” you answered her, looking down trying to hide the smile from before.

“can i go with you? please, please, please... i promise i’ll behave!” she was almost begging, but your father quickly got up from the couch and lifted her into his arms as if the short little girl was a sack of potatoes that he had placed easily over his shoulder—which earned him a harmless, half-angry snort of protest from her.

“leave your sister alone, you’re not going anywhere now, young lady.” he said playfully, still with her over his shoulder as he turned to wink at you and whisper a: “go.” without a doubt, perhaps your father was the only adult there who could show his affection without hurting someone first. honestly, not even you were like that sometimes, you couldn’t escape your mother’s blood running through your veins.

without saying anything, you walked out the front door, calmly, as if you were going for a walk—which you should have been doing if his car wasn’t waiting for you at the end of the street. always on time, you thought. you had to look around surreptitiously, making sure no neighbors were watching while trying to find a reason to simply talk about you and use your name with blasphemy.

bob saw you in the rearview mirror, pulling his cap off his face as he leaned back against the leather seat. he could have been a gentleman and opened the door for you, but he knew all too well that you didn’t want to be seen with him. you were young, untouched, naive, everything he hadn’t been in a long time, you were like fresh air to someone who hadn’t breathed in a long time.

he knew he couldn’t stay. he couldn’t let himself be enchanted by you, not when he had a fiancée. he was going to get married in a few months and his parents were counting on it, a good marriage, with a woman devoted to god who... didn’t know him, but liked what she saw for an hour or two a day. he never said he loved anyone, that said more about him than anything else could.

what could he do? he was always trying to be what he wasn’t, trying to be the version that pleased his parents—that pleased his father, as it should be. he had to be what his older brother wasn’t.

“escaping from the cops?” a nasal laugh escaped him as you sat next to him in the passenger seat. different from what he was used to, in a simple conversation you seemed to see him as he wanted to be seen, as a person beyond his faith.

“more like escaping from my family, but... yeah, almost like that.” a small smile appeared on your lips, but you hid it, looking forward as you buckled your seatbelt. then, your nose caught a whiff of a different smell, a smell you had smelled every now and then when your father was alone in the garage fixing the car. he wouldn’t let anyone in until he was done. your eyes curiously scanned around, stopping at the open pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. marlboro red.

despite the attention he kept on the road, he noticed where you were looking and took out a cigarette, placing it in front of you. “want one?” the second he offered, you quickly denied it and pushed his hand back a little with your index finger. “right, no damaged lung for you, i guess... that’s kinda nice of you.” it was a stupid joke, he didn’t talk like that around other people, but it was good to see when you tried to hide a smile or a laugh for something he said.

“it’s called healthy behavior.” you joked back and he could see how, slowly, you were letting him see beyond the expressions of boredom and silence that were characteristic of when you didn’t feel comfortable enough to say something. he had watched you before, several times, with caution, but curiosity and something else he didn’t dare to think about.

“healthy behavior, huh?” he agreed, but couldn’t help himself and ended up laughing while scratching his chin. you noticed that this was a recurring habit of his. “yeah, i’m sure you have a super healthy behavior... like, you stare at people, don’t smoke and eat all your veggies, that’s one way to put it, kid.”

kid. he called you that and probably, that was the first time you really paid attention to the fact that the two of you weren’t exactly close in age. 32, ten years age gap, it was almost funny to think about it—you barely talked to guys your own age, suddenly you were in the car of someone ten years older than you. but, there was nothing wrong with that, right? right? guys can be friends with girls too, even if you’ve been taught to think otherwise.

or, perhaps, being 22 didn’t mean you had the mind of a woman of that age when ignorance seemed to be a good thing. it means you’re still pure... and naive, and easy to manipulate or deceive, and easy not to question. stop. you sighed, but the smile on your face had already disappeared a few minutes ago.

“here we are.” his voice woke you from your brief trance of thoughts so fast that it was as if a billion tabs were open in your consciousness at the same time, almost like modern torture that you were responsible for doing to yourself. bob was no idiot, he noticed your silence and the change in expression as soon as he parked his car. “hey, are you okay?”

you licked your lips, staring at your fingers before turning your neck towards him and trying the best reassuring smile, which wasn’t always so reassuring. “yeah, i’m okay.” lying was a sin, so why did you still attend church knowing that you wouldn’t be saved in the end? no one was there really believing that they would.

bob nodded, but from the way his eyes lingered on you, there was something you weren’t telling him and he wasn’t going to try to make you say it, not now. “fine. i’ll ride you home later... i’m helping my dad with the church garden, but as soon as you’re done, let me know and we can go.”

you couldn’t say anything other than thank him in a low tone as you got out of his car and go into the church. everything was silent and clean, freshly cleaned, you could smell the cleaning products. the closest noise was outside, where you guessed the garden was, but the rest? just silence, a melancholy silence.

your eyes slowly landed on a painting of the last supper, right next to you. on the small table below it with an empty plate and a golden cup, you observed it and noticed small flaws in the painting. some colors and lines seemed different from the original work, but it was still harmonious in itself, the flaws made it something unique. “robert who painted it.” the female voice suddenly echoed behind you, you didn’t even hear her footsteps, or you were too focused to hear anything other than the beating of your heart. “i’m sorry, dear, did i scare you?”

“no, i... i was just looking at it, i’m fine, mrs. reynolds.” you answered her, but your heart was still racing as you stepped away from the painting on the wall to stand closer to the woman. mrs. reynolds was a good woman, always elegant and kind, you never heard anything shady about her and in a community where everything could be a reason, not hearing anything bad about someone was actually a good sign. “so... was it robert who painted it?”

he painted pictures. that was something, of course, he reproduced the painting of the last supper, but there was a touch of his own to it, like the subtle changes that he knew no one would notice if they didn’t look at it for a while.

“yes, he took art classes in high school and really enjoyed painting, it’s a shame he stopped. i always thought he had talent, but his father wanted to... change things a little.” she stopped talking quickly, giving a soft cough before touching your shoulder and turning you to face the opposite side of the painting. “come on, dear, you need to help me organize the choir for the weekend.”

god knows you didn’t want to think so much about what you knew before, but how could you not? honestly, you didn’t think a man like him would have such ease in being an artist. but, he was. a great artist, by the way, and this seemed to always be hidden by a thick layer of intimidation that he wore as if it were his favorite perfume. everyone had a different side to what they showed, his surprised you.

hearing what his mother said about him made you think that you didn’t know much beyond his name and who he was son of, that’s all. robert reynolds, the pastor’s son. he wasn’t just that, you could see it, even if you didn’t know what was beyond. you wanted to see everything, everything that was about him, no matter how dangerous and stupid it was, the fun was in the challenge.

“well, i think we’re done... thank you, sweetheart, you’re a great helper.” mrs. reynolds said as she placed the last piece of paper inside a black folder. each paper had the lyrics to the song the choir would sing next sunday, but you had to make changes—that’s why she needed your help, she wasn’t good at using the church printer and she could have asked anyone else for help, but why not you?

“it’s great to help you, mrs. reynolds.” your polite words made the woman smile. she spent most of her time thinking that she wished her youngest son had a wife like you, but benjamin seemed to care more about his video games than his responsibility to the church and god. you were too good for the boy and she, as a mother, recognized that.

at least, robert would have a good marriage, since his older brother was lost in sin and his younger brother... wouldn’t find anything steady any time soon. she was trying to settle for that.

“oh, before i forget... give your mom a hug for me and apologize to her for keeping you here for so long, she must be worried when you take time to get home.” yeah, sure... although you thought your mom appreciated it when you were away from her sometimes. “and go with god, my dear, may he protect you until you get home.”

she hugged you. despite the awkwardness, you hugged her back gently and forced a sweet, but confused smile, pulling away still uncertain of what had just happened. “amen, mrs. reynolds... uh, see you soon.”

as you walked out of the church, a thought came to your mind. you remembered that even that sweet lady had not been free from the rumors that always seemed to follow people around here—as you had previously thought. it had been a while, but you vaguely remembered hearing your mother and aunt talking about how mrs. reynolds had wanted a daughter, but never had one... so, three sons.

perhaps, this was directly linked to the affection she felt for you, which was strange, but curious at the same time. but, as for incessant thoughts, you already had enough, you didn’t need more.

for now, your task was just to look for bob, wherever in the garden he was, his car was still there, at least. the sooner you get home, the better. you’ll be able to distract yourself, avoid social interactions, and think a lot less. the problem was when things liked to... get drastically worse for you in the blink of an eye, this week was definitely not yours.

you felt a headache starting right in the center of your forehead, body going limp, legs feeling weaker as your hands began to shake. just walking started to be a difficult task, as if your head was way too heavy and your vision was too dark to see where you were going. oh, you didn’t have lunch, you didn’t have breakfast, not even the holy spirit could keep you on your feet when you didn’t do the bare minimum. surprising how you hadn’t passed out before.

you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, stroking your forehead as you tried to stay calm, with a real fear that you would simply pass out right there—that’s when the strap of your bag slipped off and fell to the ground, the noise attracted bob’s attention who was approaching.

when he saw that it was you, he almost ran towards you and put one of his hands on your back, pulling you closer. “hey, hey... what are you feeling? are you feeling sick?” he immediately became concerned, starting to stroke your back with his eyes a little wide, waiting for you to say something quick. “you look pale as hell, come here.”

he pulled you even closer, using his fingers to lift your chin and make you look at him, trying to get you to answer him right away before he did something about it himself and carried you bridal style into the car. “i’m... i’m fine, just a little dizzy.” he almost laughed bitterly, not believing your answer for even a fraction of a second.

“have you noticed how many times you say you’re fine?” he arched an eyebrow, shaking his head. “and a little dizzy? your bag fell and you almost hit the ground with it. when was the last time you ate, girl?” great question, if you weren’t feeling sick you would have thought of a way to get away from it.

“i didn’t. the whole day.” bob’s eyes almost popped out of his head and it made you think he was going to give you a worse lecture than your parents could ever give you, but he just kept quiet and ran his fingers through his hair, still looking at you very seriously. his expression changed so quickly it was almost scary.

“to the car. now.” he just pointed to his own car and let go of you, letting you go while he bent down to pick up your bag from the ground. as soon as you got in and sat in the passenger seat, bob placed your bag on your lap and continued to look at you with that eyes. “the seatbelt.” he said before closing the door and walking around to get into the car.

you did what he said faster than you thought you would, following him with your eyes before he sat down in the driver’s seat and you shamefully looked away. the dizziness was still there, you still felt weak, but at least you were sitting up now and didn’t have to worry about fainting. however, the silence inside the car disappeared when you noticed that he didn’t take the same route he had taken to take you home before.

“where are we going?” your eyes flicked towards the window, looking the opposite way he was going—your mind already starting to race again as you shifted in your seat, practically trying to ignore your weakness.

“calm down,” bob was quick to answer you, placing a hand on your knee as he tried to make you look less restless. he was just trying to do something, or rather, trying to make sure you didn’t die. “i’m just taking you to eat something in the city. i’m not taking you home like this, your parents won’t like it.”

your parents won’t like it. your parents wouldn’t like any of this, not you in his car, not you talking to him, not you even getting close to him, but he wouldn’t know about it, just like your parents wouldn’t know about him. it wasn’t a dirty little secret, but it was a secret, a secret you agreed with yourself was best kept. modesty aside, you know you’ve become good at keeping secrets over the years.

“in the city? isn’t it... i don’t know, weird?” it wasn’t a loud question, you almost whispered as you stared at his hand on your knee, but he didn’t do anything to change that, in fact, his calloused fingers just tightened their grip a little more.

the silence lasted inside the car for a brief moment, until he took his hand off your knee as if nothing had happened. “is it weird that i don’t want you to die of malnutrition?” he could even pretend he didn’t, but you both knew why that felt weird. “just... relax, it’s not like people we know will see us together, it’s no big deal, actually, we’re fine.”

he was right, to a certain extent. there was nothing wrong with all this, but you still didn’t want people to see the two of you together... what if they talked about it? what if you became everything you were taught to fear? your chest hurt just thinking about it. so you shouldn’t think, not now. the city—or rather, its center—was far from where you lived, no one would see it, no one would know.

it was something so... small, but it seemed so big to someone who had never really had it. you won’t expect him to understand, nor did you understand.

he left you alone in the car when he went out to buy hot dogs at a stand near the lake. the town didn’t seem as quiet as your neighborhood, but it was calm, with bright lights almost blinding you and the loud noise of cars coming and going. you rested your head against the window, watching him as you thought he was trying to take care of you, in his own way.

bob couldn’t deny it, he had been very worried when he saw you like that earlier. you had to be an idiot to go a whole day without eating, believing that this could be even slightly positive when you literally simply forgot to eat. you could have fainted, hurt yourself, and so many other things that he avoided thinking about the possibilities.

nonchalantly, he walked back. carrying three hot dogs, he noticed the confusion on your face. “why three?”

“two are yours.” he pushed them towards you, almost as if it was obvious that they were for you. “what? you haven’t eaten all day, don’t tell me a hot dog will be enough. you better eat it all or i’ll throw you into the lake.” the small smile that appeared on her face made him smile too, but he quickly covered it up. “stop laughing, i’m serious!”

his fake anger only makes you laugh a little harder, biting into one of the hot dogs as you looked away towards the lake you could see through the windshield. “would you really throw me in the lake?” it was a little question just to tease you, though you can’t help but remember the nightmare you had. the lake and... everything else, it doesn’t matter anymore, you just got scared by it.

“if you don’t eat it all, yes.” he let his smirk show a little more as he sat down on the seat again, starting to eat his hot dog and letting the silence welcome the two of you.

the lake cut the city in half, you remembered walking with your parents around here when you were a child, but as you grew up, your parents moved to the rural side and consequently, walking along the lake became something that no longer happened. your sisters were babies, they needed care and you could understand that your parents’ attention was no longer yours.

there was a certain nostalgia there if you looked long enough, as if you could still hear and see perfectly a time in your life that you missed.

slowly, you finished your first hot dog and it wasn’t surprising, but he was right about one hot dog not being enough, even after devouring the first one, you were still hungry. a chuckle escaped him as he looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, he felt more relieved to see you eating like you should have done before.

“this lake seemed bigger when i was a kid.” bob grumbled, letting you know that you probably shared the same feeling when you looked at the lake, even though you hadn’t said anything about it, he could kind of tell on his own. “you know... my older brother used to bring me to ride my bike with him ’round here.” he laughed to himself. “that’s how i got my first broken bone... my left arm at eight.”

he was opening up, somehow, telling you something he didn’t usually show he missed. “my brother was so desperate that he cried more than me... afraid that our parents would freak out on him.” sweet memories for him, he kept each of these in a special place in his mind, trying not to forget them over the years.

you turned a little more towards him, curiously staring at him as he spoke so genuinely about it. “i don’t remember meeting your brother... i mean, not the older one.” your words made his smile grow a little weaker, he had to sigh, there were too many thoughts in his mind about the matter.

“yeah, he... left the city about seven years ago.” it was like seeing through the surface, the subject seemed complex to him and you would never force him to talk about it. but, bob still had a little bit of it stuck inside him, no matter how much he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to disguise it. was still there when he slept, was still there when he woke up. “i think he moved to chicago... or something, it’s been a while since i last heard from him.”

the gears in your mind worked and you were able to understand that the relationship between his older brother and the rest of the family seemed troubled, so they all seemed to ignore his existence, but bob couldn’t do it, he secretly refused. he would never do anything his parents did to a son, it was just too late now.

“i see.” you said quietly, wrinkling the bridge of your nose as you finished eating your hot dog—you felt a little sorry for him, wondering what could be going through his mind.

he coughed, fingers stroking his chin in the way you’d seen before. “anyway... i’m gonna throw this trash away.” he started picking up the hot dog wrappers. “you can come with me if you want, we can take a look at the lake.” his offer was way too tempting when you noticed that you felt much better than before, of course you accepted, already getting up from your seat.

the breeze of the wind against your face made you sigh, opening your arms a little as if you were free, finally feeling free and it was... good, like eating too much ice cream on a hot day, was what you needed. you didn’t even know what you were thinking, but it felt good in your mind.

“don’t walk too fast... you might almost fall to the ground again.” he teased, tossing the wrappers into the nearest trash before shoving his hands in his pockets to walk beside you. “what happened to all that talk about this being weird, huh?”

the part near the lake was a little darker, probably because of the trees covering the streetlights, it was almost difficult to walk without tripping a little, so you ended up holding on his arm. he didn’t push you away, nor did he complain, he just kept you there. “it’s only weird if someone is watching us.” you answered him without much care, but you thought that perhaps you should have thought about your words better before... saying them out loud.

“it’s only weird if someone is watching us? damn, someone is getting bold with her words.” you were close, you could smell him when you were clinging to his arm. he smelled like his cigarettes, but it was a stronger smell than the one inside his car, you liked the way he smelled and the way it felt welcoming even when it shouldn’t be. the problem was probably with you, or him, or both, it was a matter of time until this question was answered.

it wasn’t that you were bold with words, you just... repeated what you thought you should. but if he thought you were bold, then maybe that could be a good thing, right?

“well... it’s getting late and i’m supposed to get you home safely. your parents will want my head.” he grumbled, staring at the lake, probably imagining that your parents really wanted to kill him for taking so long to bring you home. the point is: your parents didn’t know you were with him, even more so in the city center—you had created kinda a terrible situation to deal with.

you gently let go of his arm and moved a little closer to the edge of the lake, staring at the water as the noise of traffic seemed to be further away. “they won’t want your head,” anyone else wouldn’t tell and would let the story go, but why not tell him? you made it a secret, so he should know he was involved. “they don’t even know that you give me a ride or that i’m with you now. they won’t know, will they?”

he watched silently as you turned to him, staring at him as you said your words as if you were questioning whether or not he would tell your parents. bob didn’t want to get in the middle of your family relationship, if you didn’t tell them it was because you had a reason, he knew that better than anyone. “no,” he sighed. “but, that’s just one more reason for me to take you home now... or they’ll think about things i know you don’t want them to.”

and he was completely right. your parents couldn’t suspect that you were doing things you shouldn’t, your mother couldn’t.

you were inside his car again, the same thing, staring at the rearview as he drove back to the rural side. you heard him clear his throat to get your attention, but he spoke before you even had time to look at him. “i thought it’d be better not to ask, but...” bob didn’t know how to approach certain subjects, especially family ones. he didn’t talk about it comfortably most of the time, so he preferred to think it was the same for other people. “why didn’t you tell them about me? i mean, i'm just giving you rides... it’s no big deal.”

it was cute how he thought it didn’t mean anything when people would rather assume things of their own free will. “i get why you don’t want the neighbors to see us ’cause they’re such fuckin’ gossipers... but, your parents? they should know.” he didn’t want any trouble, but he was also worried about you and your reasons for not wanting to tell your parents something so simple.

this conversation wasn’t the kind of thing you enjoyed, it was the kind of conversation that made you feel a lump in your throat every time it started. “my dad maybe, but my mom? no way, you don’t know her.” you replied, not being able to look at him, just keeping your eyes on the road with an unhappy expression. “she’d make my life a living hell if she knew about this, ’cause nothing to her is truly innocent unless she decides it is. so, i won’t tell... and she won’t get the chance to treat me like i’m someone’s other woman.”

bob swallowed hard. he didn’t know it was like this for you. he figured there might be something more beneath the surface, but he didn’t realize you saw your own mother more as an enemy than a friend. once again, you had more similarities than he first imagined. “i’m sorry for... getting you into this, i guess.” he kept his eyes on the road like you were doing, he didn’t know the reason for the apology but he asked for it anyway, if he hadn’t offered the ride then you wouldn’t have had to lie.

“don’t apologize, bob.” you said almost immediately when he stopped at the red light. “i think you’re the last person who should apologize to me. that thing i feel everywhere... that heavy feeling in my chest disappears when you’re talking to me and i don’t know why, but it feels good. i like to be myself when i’m around you, so... you shouldn’t apologize for making me feel better.”

you couldn’t completely understand why you said all that so quickly, but you said it anyway, and you could see out of the corner of your eye how confused and surprised he was by it. “i...” bob didn’t know what to say to you, the words died on his tongue before he could just say them. but, he appreciated how vocal you were about how good he was doing for you, even though you had only spent a short time together.

“you don’t need to say anything.” you grumbled, he could feel that maybe silence was the best option now, not the bad silence, it was the comforting silence when you were really understanding each other without having to actually say something. he understood you, you understood him, one way or another, you chose to believe that there was some connection between you in this.

the silence lasted until you heard the car pulling up near your neighborhood, but not exactly there, not in the same place as before. he didn’t say anything for a moment, but you turned to look at him and he knew what you would ask. “wanna go to the city with me again? friday.” he asked, a little apprehensively but genuinely, you saw the way he was shaking his leg.

“bob... we shouldn’t,” you answered him immediately, but the look of “please” on his face almost made you forget what you had said. your voice trailed off, you just scratched the back of your neck and sighed, as if you were giving up. “fine. but, you know, no one can see us and... neither can my parents.”

he knew that, those were the rules you created for that and bob wanted to be close to you, he wasn’t going to deny that now, after what you said it made him realize that he felt the same way. “i know,” his leg stopped moving. “no one will see us, i promise.”

something in you told you not to do it, not to agree to just go out with him—because that’s what it was—he had a fiancée, but he hadn’t mentioned her, not once, as if he had forgotten her. you thought it was... something to think about, but you decided not to think about it, not so much.

“it’s okay.” you started to unbuckle your seatbelt, noticing how there was something in the air and it wasn’t exactly the smell of his cigarette that seemed stuck there.

“7pm, here. i think it’s safer here than... inside your neighborhood.” he had a point. within your neighborhood someone could see through the windows much more easily, now here... it was just dark, but not far, you could walk home and it would be as if nothing had happened. nothing had happened between you and him.

you thought about saying something but stopped, just nodding as you slung the strap of your bag over your shoulder to get out of the car. his eyes were on you and yours met his blue ones. how dangerous, you felt a chill in your stomach, something that shouldn’t be there, but suddenly it was.

his large hand reached your knee gently, squeezing it the same way he had done before and he leaned towards you. you should have moved away, but you didn’t, you stayed there, feeling his approach and enjoying it, enjoying the rush that surged through your body when he did it.

the tips of your noses touched, your breaths slowly mingled and you smelled that marlboro red scent again, his scent, the scent that meant him. a little more, a little closer, his lips touched yours in the gentlest way a touch could be, you closed your eyes and felt the sin, the best sin you ever committed, the one which made you feel good once again.

a kiss, just a little kiss, so quick you barely tasted it, but it was... reassuring, calming, real and you imagined it that way, he imagined it that way. that was a problem, you would drown in your own feelings, but he made you not want to think about it anymore.

to be continued...

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙���, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[the-pigeon-queen]

Obsessed with your ghost takes. Give me more headcanons I beg. I’m on my knees. Let us see but a fraction of the beauty in your mind.

Truly I am honored and I'm happy to provide :]

Sorry for the delay, I had to cook these up

Again, per usual, these are just personal head cannons :0 And I got 10 for each papa and for ghouls!

Copia:

Grew up doing acrobatics and ballet to be more like his Auntie, Marika. He chose to focus on ballet pretty early on.

Referred to Markia as Auntie but Mr. Psaltarian as Mr. Psaltarian.

Has a complicated relationship with his emotionally distant father figure, Mr. Psaltarian, but an even more complicated one with his actual father, Nihil

Marika babied him - grew up a little spoiled

The 666 mark on his chest is a birthmark lol not a tattoo

Has a lot of mobile games on his phone, and he has used the company card to make microtransactions for them

Picked up boxing because he was a little insecure about his arms and to stay 'fit' as he says

Executive dysfunction - eventually the stress of doing a task trumps his procrastination. When he does work, he does it well - he did get 2nd best employee of the month, after all

Prefers sci-fi to fantasy, with Star Wars being his favorite. He has models of all the different space ships in Star Wars. And a lightsaber (canonically)

Has pet rats (this is cannon to me across all AU's, I can't help it)

Perpetua:

Raised as an orphan in the catholic church after being kidnapped as a baby (will it be cannon? 👀 we'll see)

They were convinced he was possessed by the devil, and they performed multiple exorcisms on him there. Each one was traumatic, for obvious reasons.

One common punishment was having his knuckles/hands smacked - that's why he wears gloves/metal gauntlets, it makes him feel safer.

The mask, too, is worn because its comforting to hide behind it. He only takes it off when he has to.

He's trans. He goes by he/him but still doesn't confirm to any gender roles, especially not when it comes to fashion. He wears anything he wants. This includes the claws.

Whereas Copia has issues maintaining eye contact, Perpetua is the opposite. He stares. A lot. It is unnerving after a while.

His natural smile just happens to be very toothy and very wide.

Genuinely desires familial connections, and desperately wants to meet and befriend his twin, who he looks up to.

Has not confronted how he feels about the Ministry only seeking him out when he was needed for something. Right now, he's just happy to be wanted.

Has a pet bat :) no, it doesn't have rabies. Probably.

Primo:

Hates Nihil the most out of any of the siblings. He really brings a 'kill your dad' energy to the function (or a kill your older brother energy, take your pick)

Collects ancient occult or 'cursed' books. He has a copy of the Necronomicon. One of his most precious treasures is a copy of the Codex Gigas. He is currently hunting down a copy of the 'King and Yellow' because it's not a cognito hazard, people just don't get it like he does.

His mother was a witch - it's where he picked up a flair for gardening and tea. And bones. And magic.

He's an alchemist. Self-taught, and good at it.

Definitely had a homunculus at some point

Made a deal with an undisclosed demonic entity to keep his hair into his advanced age (I just like long hair Primo,,,)

Also hates the executives that run the Ministry. He has a strict idea of how the cult should be run and is endlessly frustrated that he doesn't have more say in its activities.

The executives in the Ministry fear him - no one knows what is keeping him in line, because it's obvious he would and probably could unleash some real harm to them.

Loves Secondo and Terzo dearly. He cared for them as if they were his own children when they were younger and loves them still. Game night started at his request.

As soon as he met Copia and Perpetua, he knew they were related, and he does his best to make the two feel welcome.

For more Primo headcanons, check out a previous post: {Unhinged Primo}

Secondo:

Can and does make pasta from scratch. He bought an extruder and everything.

He's actually a good cook - the only one in the family

People think he's a big, scary dog guy, when he's actually a purse dog guy. (I was making a comic about this but) He adopted a small, fluffy dog, and it wears a spiked collar and a pink bow. He walks it with one of those big, fake chains. Her name is Psycho Killer and he's training her to attack Terzo's ankles.

He recognized the Ministry suffered from same corruption he criticized in the catholic church - but is unable to do anything about it.

Only grew bitter when he realized how powerless he actually was within the Clergy.

He partied so hard as Papa as a way to sort of get back at the Clergy - but it was also a coping mechanism.

Considers himself a fine connoisseur of whiskey, and he is. He's got fancy tasting glasses and everything.

Same with cigars.

He also enjoys a good cocktail, too, though, and can mix a good drink. He's a good bartender.

Actually pretty good at pool/Billiards and darts. He's terrible at UNO, though - absolutely terrible.

Terzo:

Actually an introvert.

After parties, he has to have quiet alone time (this alone time can include Omega)

Enjoys reading - everything from dense books about ethics to trashy romance novels.

Absolute cinephile. He will host viewings of historic/rare/obscure films, and he will provide a slideshow presentation before the viewing. There is a mandatory discussion after.

He's a very talented visual artist - prefers black and white charcoal and graphite work.

Genuinely wanted to take over the world with the Clergy and turn it into his idea of a utopia. Unfortunately, the Clergy didn't like his vision, didn't like how comfortable he was getting with them, and didn't like how ambitious he was.

Once removed from Papacy, he realized how powerless he actually was within the Clergy, and grew even more reclusive, for a time.

Was insecure about his height when he was younger, but came to accept it, and is now perfectly fine with being a "short king."

Thoroughly enjoys messing with Secondo. The two bicker and tease each other all the time.

Keeps in contact with his Polish mother :)

Ghouls:

A ghoul's mask is a physical representation of their contract, but it also helps them maintain a humanoid form.

They can remove the mask, but only for brief periods of time.

If they remove their mask for too long, their magic will begin to destabilize, and they will inevitably revert back into a feral, demonic monster.

They do not have to eat or sleep, nor do they reproduce sexually

However, their physical bodies are 'equipped' to experience all the pleasures of the mortal realm (food, sleep, pleasure) It's a perk of the job.

The physical upkeep of their corporeal forms is dependent on emotional/mental state (can only be injured when emotionally compromised, only show scars if there are negative memories associated with it, ect.)

Musical ability is directly linked to their magic, so it's linked to their element, so it's linked to their emotional state.

This incentivizes the ministry to keep them happy.

They are forbidden from sharing any knowledge of heaven/hell/life after death with humans.

Unlike demons, they don't have true 'names.' It's up to the summoner to give them one.

[womenloverlmao]

Yours (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

(Set before Civil War/after Winter Soldier with a little bit of artistic liberty…also listening to And So It Goes while writing this was a mood. Based on The Village.)

You were everyone’s favorite. You were a good girl, if a little boyish. You were a hard worker, loved everyone, and did volunteer work everywhere you could. Every guy had their eye set on you, but your eyes were completely set on Bucky Barnes. 

You lived in a small town in nowhere America, and everyone knew everyone there. You were a sweetheart, but there were no secrets in you. You were an open book, and you didn’t mind it. James was…the opposite. He was relatively new to the town, never spoke up, but he did his work. He did participate somewhat in the town’s gatherings, but never drew any sort of attention to himself. 

Your older sister had just gotten married, and everyone had their fun at the reception, but you were stuck cleaning it up afterwards. It was just you, your parents, and…Bucky. He had stayed to help you. “You know, you don’t have to stay just because you like me,” you told him. You had no shame. He looked up at you for a second before continuing to sweep the floor, choosing not to acknowledge it out of fear he would say too much. You continued to talk to him throughout the night, but he rarely responded. 

“Will you walk me home?” You asked once you were done. He nodded; that had been his plan anyway. It was about a ten-minute walk from the reception to your home. “It’s unfortunate that my sister settled for him, but I can tell he loves her very much. She’ll be happy with him.” 

“He’ll take care of her,” he acknowledged. 

“She could take care of herself,” you added. “But there’s no fun in that.” 

There was a continuous rant, but you didn’t want being with him to end that soon. You knew he loved you, but you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t say it. So, you decided to make the move yourself. Well, a move that told him to make the move. “Will you dance with me when we’re married?” He didn’t acknowledge you, so you continued, “Everyone says you’re so fearless…then why are you afraid to ask me? Why do you never say what’s on your mind?” 

“Why do you always have to say what’s on yours?” He countered. To anyone else, he would have seemed angry. You understood that he was showing you what was on his mind, against what he thought he wanted. “Why do you have to lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance with you, I will ask you to dance. If I want to speak, I’ll open my mouth and speak. Everyone here constantly wants me to speak more. There’s no point. What good does it do to tell everyone that you’re on my mind from the moment I wake, hell, you’re even in my dreams. There’s nowhere I can go to escape it. 

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t go throughout my day without it. I can’t work, eat, sleep, I can’t do anything because you’re on my mind. And no, I’m not afraid. The only thing that makes me afraid is thinking of you getting hurt, that’s why I’m walking you home right now, Y/F/N. I care about you…so damn much.” He swallows the rest of the river of words he wants to say. There’s a pause before he continues. “Yes, Y/N. I will dance with you on our wedding night.” 

That’s how you ended up engaged right after your sister got married. You invited him into your house, but he said no. When you asked why, he responded that it would have to wait for your wedding night as well, and you couldn’t complain. 

You got what you wanted. He was yours. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was yours.

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐰𝐝:

emails i can't send

❝ it's times like these wish i had a time machine. ❞

❝ there's no us in us when i'm lacking trust. ❞ 

❝ you disgust me. ❞

❝ i get nice guys and villanize them. ❞

❝ scared i'll find out that it's true. ❞

❝ and, god, i love you, but youre such a dipshit. ❞

❝ please fucking fix this. ❞ 

vicious

❝ and i tried to look for the best in the worst. ❞ 

❝ but like, fuck me, that caused a commotion. ❞

❝ you're lucky i'm a private person. ❞

❝ why you gotta be so vicious? ❞

❝ you just run to whoever is winning. ❞

❝ said that it was me and you for life. ❞

❝ you don't feel remorse. ❞

❝ you don't fee the effect. ❞

❝ cause you don't think you hurt me if you wish me the best. ❞ 

❝ i was only the next one to take your love songs as a promise. ❞ 

read your mind

❝ say its hard, but you make it look easy. ❞

❝ tell me that you miss me in your life. ❞

❝ i can't read your mind. ❞

❝ to think that we could be casual. ❞

❝ you're not my friend and baby, you never were. ❞

❝ did i get the message in the way you intended? ❞

tornado warnings

❝ don't understand how quickly we get right back in the rhythm without missing a step. ❞

❝ but i want you here sometimes. ❞

❝ i guess maybe thats why i'm lying to my therapist. ❞ 

❝ i think he's onto me every time i say, "i'm over that son of a bitch" ❞ 

❝ i deserve an hour in a week to focus on my thoughts. ❞ 

❝ i'll drive you home. ❞ 

❝ you drive me crazy. ❞ 

❝ i'll call you out. ❞

❝ but thats not gonna stop me. ❞

because i liked a boy

❝ i said i wanted thin mints and you said you knew a guy. ❞

❝ who knew cuddling on trampolines could be so reckless? ❞

❝ now i'm a homewrecker. ❞

❝ tell me who i am. ❞

❝ guess i don't have a choice. ❞

❝ i'm a hot topic on your tongue. ❞

❝ i'm not carastrophizing, everythings derailing. ❞

❝ you said i'm too late to be your first love but i'll always be your favorite. ❞

❝ i got death threats fillin up semi trucks. ❞

❝ and all of this for what? ❞

❝ when everything went down, we'd already broken up. ❞

❝ all because i liked a boy. ❞ 

already over

❝ same time here next weekend. ❞

❝ how am i supposed to close the door when i still need the closure? ❞

❝ how am i supposed to leave you now that you're already over? ❞

❝ selfishly don't wanna give you time to be on someone else's lips. ❞

❝ after the aftermath, i know you'll be coming back. ❞

❝ and it won't be the last time. ❞

❝ i say, "i'm done, " but i'm still confused. ❞ 

how many things

❝ there's no hidin' from the thought of us. ❞

❝ i got ways to find you anywhere. ❞

❝ and we talked until the same came up. ❞

❝ i wish we stayed just like we were up there. ❞

❝ it doesn't matter whether not i want to. ❞

❝ i can't help it, it's a habit. ❞

❝ i feel myself falling further down your priorities. ❞ 

❝ that never made too much sense to me. ❞

❝ you really came to me for sympathy? ❞

❝ am i not even a second thought? ❞ 

bet u wanna

❝ it's all unfloding. ❞

❝ now you say you hate all the empty space. ❞ 

❝ didn't think about it when you let me down. ❞

❝ bet you wanna touch me now. ❞

❝ it's cold out there. ❞

❝ let me know what you found. ❞

❝ bet you wanna love me now. ❞

❝ is that feeding all your fears? ❞ 

❝ your so-called friends are gone. ❞

❝ i know what you're bout to say. ❞

❝ bet you're reminiscing. ❞

❝ i bet you hate the way you said goodbye. ❞

❝ and you still can't even tell me why. ❞

nonsense

❝ think i only want one number in my phone. ❞

❝ treat me like a queen. ❞

❝ but i can't help myself. ❞

❝ i don't want no one else. ❞

❝ baby, i'm in too deep. ❞

❝ i'll be honest. ❞

❝ lookin' at you gor me thinkin' nonsense. ❞

❝ i can't find my chill, i must have lost it. ❞

❝ you gotta keep up with me. ❞

❝ i got some young energy. ❞

❝ i don't even know anymore. ❞

❝ i bet your house is where my other sock is. ❞

❝ that one's not gonna make it. ❞ 

fast times

❝ sun's up too soon like daylight savings. ❞

❝ ahead of myself's an understatement. ❞

❝ but what the fuck is patience? ❞

❝ no time for rewrites. ❞

❝ give me a second to forget i ever really meant it. ❞

❝ we couldn't help it. ❞

❝ my feelings used to be serrated. ❞

❝ but you speak in such a perfect cadence. ❞

skinny dipping

❝ we've been swimmin' on the edge of a cliff. ❞

❝ i'm resistant. ❞

❝ it'd be so nice, right? ❞

❝ water under the bridge. ❞

❝ we won't sit at our same old table, i promise. ❞

❝ we'll be thinkin' about how different we are from those scared little kids. ❞ 

bad for business

❝ all of my friends think i've gone crazy. ❞

❝ we look good in photographs. ❞

❝ i like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes. ❞

❝ it's sad but true, and i know it. ❞

❝ i can't find a single reason. ❞

❝ he ruined all my plans. ❞

❝ and he just makes me so crazy. ❞

❝ i know everyone sees that he'll be the death of me. ❞ 

❝ he's good for my heart. ❞

❝ he's very bad for business. ❞

❝ but they don't know me. ❞ 

decode

❝ you're good at impersonating someone who cares. ❞

❝ you had me for a minute there. ❞

❝ where else can we go? ❞

❝ there's nothing left here to decode. ❞

❝ it's just getting old. ❞

❝ there's a weight off my shoulders now that i don't chase you. ❞

❝ i wanna make a video to our future selves. ❞ 

opposite

❝ so you do have a type and it's not me. ❞

❝ so you can reply, just to not me. ❞

❝ you knew i would see that. ❞

❝ you knew i would notice. ❞

❝ she looks nothing like me. ❞

❝ so why do you look so happy? ❞

❝ does she say nothin' so you feel good? ❞

❝ does she get up on top of you more than i would? ❞

❝ does she just love the picture cause you're painting it? ❞

❝ i care, but i don't. ❞

❝ was i being lied to? ❞

feather

❝ i'm your dream come true. ❞

❝ then you pull back when i try to make plans more than two hours in advance. ❞

❝ i got you blocked. ❞

❝ i feel so much lighter. ❞

❝ whatever, you're a waste of time. ❞

❝ your signals are mixed. ❞

❝ you act like a bitch. ❞

❝ you fit every stereotype. ❞

❝ send a pic. ❞

❝ it feels so good not caring where you are tonight. ❞

❝ excited to never talk. ❞

❝ i'm so sorry for your loss. ❞

❝ you miss me? ❞ 

lonesome

❝ if i fall in love with all my problems, will they leave me too? ❞

❝ why were you somewhere else? ❞

❝ i know you know it keeps me up. ❞

❝ did you even give a fuck? ❞ 

❝ you can't spell lonesome without me. ❞

❝ i can't escape your history. ❞

❝ tell me i was more than just a decent opportunity. ❞

❝ isn't it kind of strange how it all changed when i wasn't the one they wanted you to love? ❞

❝ you just can't. ❞

things i wish you said

❝ i always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car. ❞

❝ baby, everything reminds me of you. ❞ 

❝ nobody gets my jokes. ❞

❝ everyone here thinks i'm fucking rude. ❞

❝ when i saw you cry, i didn't handle it well. ❞

❝ without you here, i don't know what to do with myself. ❞

❝ i saw you met somebody and i'm jealous as hell. ❞

❝ sorry, that i pulled the "it's not you, it's me" ❞

❝ one day, i'll make sure you get a real apology. ❞

❝ i waste my time. ❞

❝ i waste my life on idiotic things. ❞

[writerfae]

Cyprian visits Nia after the Alderking has been stopped. It doesn’t go very well…

“Nia, you can’t give yourself up like that. Think of the baby.”

It hurt Cyprian to see his old friend crumble under her grief. Ever since Nia had heard of the death of Kyndra and the not-quite-death of Rook, she had been crushed.

Everything that had made her Nia had vanished, leaving only an empty, hopeless shell where once joy and humor had been.

It was as if a huge part of her had died with them.

Losing Kyndra and Rook - especially him - pained Cyprian himself immensely, but it must’ve been a whole different kind of pain for her to lose them, after all they were her lovers. Not just that, but Rook had also been the father of her newborn child.

Runa, though having much resemblance with her mother, unmistakably had Rook’s eyes. She was a constant reminder of what Nia had lost, all that was left of Rook and Kyndra.

And she was part of the reason why Cyprian was now here, in the village where not too long ago he had brought Nia on Rook’s order, to keep her and their - to that time unborn - daughter safe.

He had debated with himself if it was wise to come. He wasn’t sure if Nia would’ve agreed to meet with him, let alone let him check on her well-being or see Runa.

But he had gone anyway, feeling like he owed that to their friends, to the family they had been, though it was now in pieces. And maybe for the same reason, Nia had agreed to meet him.

As he sat there with her in the little hut that was now her and Runa’s home, he couldn’t help but think how miserable she looked.

Her blonde locks were uncombed and uncared for, though their care was once so important to her. She looked tired and thin and her eyes seemed dull, absent.

Cyprian had heard from the village leader that Nia didn’t take proper care of herself. Not eating nor sleeping enough. She had given herself up.

For a while she even refused to care for her baby, leaving Runa in the care of a nursemaid. At least that seemed to have improved now.

Cyprian was here in hope to help, to get Nia to take better care of herself as well, for he feared that if she would keep going like she did she’d lose herself completely and Runa would lose her mother.

He wasn’t sure if Nia would listen to him, but he still had to try.

The baby was peacefully sleeping in her bed now, after Nia had introduced her to Cyprian (she even allowed him to hold her) and fed her. She was blissfully unaware of the tense conversation breaking out between her mother and Cyprian.

“Neither Rook nor Kyndra would’ve wanted you to waste away like you do,” Cyprian tried to reason with Nia. “I understand your grief, but-“

It was like that sentence had awoken something in Nia, a storm suddenly dancing in her eyes.

“What do you know of my grief?” she snapped. “You didn’t love them like I did.”

The accusation stung. It hung heavy in the air between them and for a moment, Cyprian didn’t know what to say.

He had loved both Rook and Kyndra differently from Nia, that much was true, but that didn’t mean he had loved them any less.

He had loved them with all he had, still did. Rook especially.

And Nia had always understood that, had always understood him, so hearing her of all people say it hurt even more.

“But I still loved them,” he said quietly. “Just as I love you. You are my family.”

Or all that was left of what he once called that.

“Nia, please, I don’t want to lose you too.”

But Nia ignored his last sentence. “If you would have loved us, loved him, you wouldn’t have betrayed Rook like you did.”

Now that made Cyprian angry.

It was the very same thing his traitorous mind would whisper to him in the darkest of hours, when grief and guilt tried to claw at his broken heart.

It was the doubt in his own actions that he had buried deep down, but that still managed to escape from the dungeon in his mind he had put it in. The thought that would haunt him till his dying day, even if he fought it down daily.

He had made the right choice.

He made the right choice, the hardest and most heartbreaking choice he had ever made.

And here was Nia, who was there too, who had watched and done nothing because she simply refused to see what Cyprian had seen and had the audacity to side with those dark thoughts of his, to make him the enemy.

It shouldn’t have been him alone who took the action, took the blame. They should’ve worked together to stop Rook and maybe then they would’ve found a better way, a better ending.

But both Kyndra and Nia had refused to listen to him, had not been willing to help. So yes, maybe in their eyes he betrayed them. But the truth wasn’t that simple.

And it was not like he had a choice. What he did he did in the name of the person he had once known and loved. The person Rook was before.

What he became after, the ruthless king that Cyprian had helped to stop wasn’t that person, hadn’t been that person in a long time.

And only he had seen. The others had looked away. Nia herself had simply refused to see it, despite Cyprian’s attempts to open her eyes to the truth.

She had done nothing to stop, to save him. And yet she claimed to have loved him more than Cyprian did.

Cyprian, who had given everything he had, to do the right thing, the thing he knew Rook - the true Rook - would’ve wanted him to do.

“I betrayed him because I loved him. I did it for the person he was. The Rook I knew - the friend I loved - wouldn’t have wanted any of the things that have happened. Whoever that person was that he became, it wasn’t his true self anymore. You and Kyndra were both too blinded to see it. But I saw it. And I did what had to be done, what he would’ve wanted to be done.

You’re right, I didn’t love them the way that you did.” Bitterness found its way into his voice. “My love wasn’t blind like yours.”

Nia didn’t say anything to that. She refused to look at him, face turned away, hands clenched into fists.

As if sensing the tension in the air, the baby suddenly started crying in her bed. Without a word, Nia stood up to tend to her.

She rocked the little girl in her arms, trying to calm her down. Cyprian’s anger vanished at the sight and he sighed. He stood up and stepped next to her, looking over her shoulder at the baby as he tried again.

“If making me the traitor is what you need to feel better, so be it,” he said quietly. “I accept that role and I will stay away from you and Runa in the future, if that’s what you want. But please, if you ever loved me, or more importantly, if you love Kyndra and Rook as much as you said - which I know you do - please, please do me a favor and keep the promise you gave them. Live on. Be there for Runa. She’s all that is left of them and she’ll need you. You’re all she has.”

Nia didn’t say anything still, but her grip around the now quiet baby tightened.

Cyprian took a shaky breath. “You might not believe me, but I loved you. All of you. And I always will. That’s why I can’t let you waste away, not without at least offering you my help. That’s what I owe them, both of them. And you. So if you need me, I’m there.”

Nia squared her shoulders. “I don’t need your help, Cyprian,” she turned to look at him and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“You can’t give to me what I need. You can’t bring them back. You took them from me and there’s nothing you can do to undo that.”

She closed her eyes. “I have held you dear, once. And I really wished that I could forgive you for what you did to us, but I can’t. So if what you claim is true and you truly love us, truly want to help, then do me one last favor and leave. And don’t come back. It is the best you can do for me, for us, because seeing you only reminds me all the more of my pain.”

Now it was Cyprian who had tears in his eyes. He had already expected that answer, but it didn’t mean that it hurt any less.

Now he had lost even the last bit of what he once called his family. The worst part was, that he could understand her request.

He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

His view fell on the once more peacefully sleeping baby in Nia’s arms. Hesitant he leaned forward and kissed the baby’s brow, a last goodbye.

Then he turned to Nia, kissing her - by now tear stained - cheek. To his surprise, she let him.

“Farewell, Nia,” he whispered and left the little hut with a heavy heart.

“Farewell, ‘Rian,” he heard Nia say as he walked out, so quiet he almost missed it.

As soon as he had left, he finally let the tears fall. It was the last time he would ever see Nia and her daughter.