#and did you see how he noticed the ground being erased from under him. he’s so smart

[5hrignold]

so how about that deleted scene

look

https://twitter.com/CrazeTheDaiz/status/1708179001619927063

[willowser]

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to. 

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress. 

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought. 

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek. 

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon. 

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his  heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

[layla4567]

I don't trust you

TVA!Loki x Hunter!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are Hunter A9 and you work alongside Hunter B15. When Loki arrives at the TVA you seem reluctant to trust him but Mobius assures you that he is not as bad as he seems.

Warnings: smut with plot, p in v, biting, unprotect sex, fingering, (reader is not a virgin but she thinks so because they erased her memory), mirror sex kinda, overstimulation i think, enemies to lovers trope, fight, angst (mentions of Loki's past), death (mention of Frigga's death), Loki being a brat, teasing, not proofread

A/N: This takes place in season 1 of course. You can watch this video of a a fight training to see where I got inspiration from

WC: 6k (oops!)

You walked through the halls of the TVA together with your partner B-15. Both had been informed of an alert, a variant had been admitted to headquarters and was waiting in a room along with Mobius. Your job as a hunter, like many others, consisted of pruning the variants of the timelines to preserve the timeline intact, you were loyal to your job and you did it without mercy. That's why you were surprised that even that variant has not been pruned

"I don't understand why the variant is still here and what do we have to do with all this"-you muttered under your breath, chewing the words with visible annoyance.

"I don't like any of this either, but Mobius will have his reasons"-said b-15 next to you

They continued walking, marching in a military style until they reached the room where Mobius and that guy were. In the middle there was an orange projector and Agent Mobius was sitting in front of a man with short black hair with his arms crossed. Even though he was sitting down, you could tell that he was tall, he had a frown on his face and looked around skeptically. You noticed that he had that collar on his neck where you could control him with the tempad, good, that would make things easier. Mobius, upon noticing the presence of the two of you, stood up and approached you with an outstretched arm, introducing you.

"Loki, they are hunter B-15 and hunter A-9. A-9, B-15, he is Loki Laufeyson"

"That's great, let's see if they can get me out of here."-Loki said with poisonous sarcasm.

You stood straight and firm with your chin raised showing defiance and threat. You had never let any variant, no matter how dangerous it seemed, scare you, fear was for the weak. Always show courage in the face of the enemy, never show fear, that would only make you look like easy prey. Your face and that of your fellow hunter showed displeasure and anger while Loki's showed contempt and little desire to want to be there.

To end the tension that had been installed and that seemed like it could be cut with a knife, Mobius clarified things.

"I know this looks bad, I know. But I have a hunch, I think Loki could help us find the other variant"

B-15 let out a chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief, you just felt your body boil and the frown on your face deepened. This was not how things were done in the TVA, you couldn't break the rules, this would cause a lot of problems.

"Mobius, that variant should be pruned right now and sent into the void!! That's how things work, we're not playing cops and robbers"-you spat with your lips trembling with anger

Mobius looked at the ground in silence, meditating on his words while Loki looked at you with arrogance, which made your blood boil even more. You could barely contain yourself. Who did he think he was? Before a catastrophe could happen, Mobius returned to the attack.

"Please give me this chance, just this one. I have reason to believe that the other variant that is on the loose is a variant of Loki, we know that he is much more cunning and threatening than him but with Loki at our side we can face him"

When Loki heard that he jumped from his seat, offended, pointing a finger at Mobius.

"Hey! How dare you? You have no idea what I'm capable of doing."

Then he approached him defiantly and you took a step forward with your hand about to draw your staff but B-15 stopped you by the arm and Mobius simply pressed a button on his timepad and Loki returned to the place where he was before, falling clumsily to the ground, Snorting angrily, he tossed his hair back and gave Mobius a murderous look.

"A-9 is right, why should we trust him? He doesn't even seem to want to cooperate."

Mobius gave a long sigh before continuing.

"Look, I know you don't trust Loki, but you trust me, right? So I beg you to let me try, just give me a few minutes to try to persuade him. I'll take care of it, he will be in my custody."

You looked at B-15 who gave you an unconvinced look, then you looked at Loki with displeasure and then you looked at Mobius again, he seemed really desperate and he was expecting an affirmative response from you, you felt sorry for him. You closed your eyes taking a deep breath.

"It's okay, if it's that important to you… but at any sign of bad behavior you know I'll prune him."-you said, feeling your staff while Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes of course. I promise it won't cause any problems."

Mobius really seemed happy and relieved to have let him continue trying to reach some fruitful point with that odious variant, you didn't see what was special about it but anyway, you trusted Mobius, you knew he had a good sixth sense to read people and feel compassion. by them. The same couldn't be said about you, you preferred to stick to the rules and follow them. You and your partner left the room, leaving them alone.

"Alright, Loki, what do you think we do a review of your greatest hits?"

Mobius turned on the projector and Loki's bruised face appeared on the screen with several cuts on his forehead and nose, he was lying on the floor of Stark tower. It was the battle of New York, of course. Loki looked away from the screen feeling humiliated while Mobius seemed to enjoy it taking a sip from his can with a smile.

"Why show me this? I already know what happened, I was there."-He said with a hand on his forehead, grumpy.

"I just want to understand why you do what you do."

"You're lying.."

"No, I mean it. I want to know what drives you to act"

"Ah, I see"

Loki rose from his seat, circling like a vulture while placing his hands on his hips, looking at the ceiling with growing impatience.

"This is nothing more than a vile trick, an illusion created by the weak to instill fear, believing they are the owners of the place with great power over time"

"We are"

"No, I make my own decisions, I choose my own destiny, not you."-Loki said putting emphasis on the "I"

"Ok whatever you say, but I think you'll want to see this."

Mobius pressed the button again and a Loki with his horned helmet and a scepter with a bright blue gem on it was projected onto the wall. He spoke with great intimidation and proclaimed that the people should bow before him.

"That's what I mean! I'm so close to claiming what's mine! And it will be because I decided that way and not because this stupid place or whatever this is allowed it-"

Mobius quickly interrupted Loki "Ah, ah, ah, I'm not done yet."

The agent pressed the button again and now the image showed Loki going to a cell in Asgard and his mother Frigga. Surprise and confusion appeared on Loki's face, the images continued to pass and Loki saw his own mother arguing with his other self, he approached slowly and silently towards the screen.

"This is not true, this never happened"

"Not yet, look, the TVA not only knows your entire past, it also knows your future and this is what had to happen if you didn't take the tesseract."

Now the screen showed Frigga immobilized by a dark elf, without warning the elf thrust a sword into Frigga's back, mortally wounding her. Terror spread across Loki's face as he stepped back, trying to process what he had just seen.

"This is a trick…"-he said in a broken whisper

"No, no and no. This is what was supposed to happen, that's how the sacred timeline wanted it."

"It's a lie! You're lying!"-Loki's voice cracked with pain as tears wet his eyes.

"Oh so your mother being dead is a lie too?"

Loki tensed his jaw showing his teeth as he lunged at Mobius who with a quick movement of his hand took the tempad out of his pocket and returned Loki to his place, he fell on his butt.

"Do you really like causing pain? Do you enjoy hurting people? Because it seem like you were made for that"

Loki clenched his teeth to keep from letting the tears escape. Mobius extended his hand helping him up.

"I'm sorry, but that's how things work here."

Before Loki could say anything the doors opened and you appeared with your uniform and your characteristic frown. something bad had happened

"Are you done with the variant?"-You said with a contemptuous tone.

"Not yet, why do you come to interrupt?"

"We need you now, something serious happened"-you said, looking askance at Loki.

"Ugh not again.. Loki I'll be right back, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone"

You and Mobius walked out of the room through the hallways to talk alone while leaving Loki unsupervised. You walked in a hurry with more bad temper than usual while Mobius followed you closely like a dog. When you both made sure that no one could hear you, you turned around abruptly, startling him.

"Mobius we cannot afford more interruptions, something must be done with that variant"

"But why? We were making great progress and-"

"We have lost another unit!" - you exclaimed aggressively.

Mobius suddenly fell down, realizing the seriousness of the matter. You looked down, deciding what to say.

"I know I promised you I would give you a chance but you are compromising my work. We need to prune that variant.."

Mobius put a hand to his mouth thoughtfully. You didn't want to let your friend down, but there were more serious matters to worry about with this Loki guy, and if Mobius didn't let you do what you did best, the entire TVA would explode into chaos and you would lose your job. He was putting you between a rock and a hard place and you had to make the right decision, which is always the most difficult.

"Okay, you're right, I'll see what to do with him in the meantime, show me where the unit's casualties have been. Just let me talk to him first."

You nodded, sighing, but your patience was running out. Mobius sensed that, so he quickly returned to where Loki was. But when he opened the door he saw no one. He quickly looked for his tempad and realized that he didn't have it, of course, he had left it on the table before leaving and Loki took it.

"Son of a.."

Meanwhile, Loki, with the use of the tempad, was able to escape from the room and appeared in the hallways ready to leave that infernal place once and for all. He walked confused, trying to get his bearings and hiding without being seen.

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Your eyes wanted to pop out of your sockets while your jaw tensed and you clenched your fists in anger, so hard that you felt the burning sting of your nails digging into your flesh. Mobius tried to reassure you by repeating that Loki couldn't have gone far. You didn't want to hear it, now the variant was out there because of him and that's how you let him know.

"Well in theory if you hadn't interrupted us…"

"Are you kidding me?!"

B-15 hearing the news asked the exact details, you furiously explained how Mobius had let Loki escape, he put his hands in his pockets looking down embarrassed saying it was an accident. The B-15 hunter quickly gathered several hunters and they separated into groups.

"Ok, Mobius you are coming with me and you A-9 are going with-"

"Alone. Understood."-you said activating your cane

"No wait, don't go!"

You were already running when B-15 shouted the order to you. You could do this alone, you didn't need anyone, you would take care of that annoying variant once and for all as you should have done from the beginning. Mobius was too innocent and easily trusted others, but not you. With your pruning stick ready in your hand, gripping it tightly, you marched with long, hurried steps through the halls of the TVA looking for the damned one.

"Where are you you damn bastard..."

You continued walking through the wide hallways of the great place, looking for him everywhere. You turned your head to the side and saw him. Finally. Loki was going to enter the offices. With a predatory and threatening look you ran towards him

"Hey!! Stop there!"

Loki turned around, making his curls fly like black whips. His eyes narrowed and a mischievous smile threatened to appear at the corners, he was studying you. With sure steps he moved away from the door and stood tall with his arms on his hips.

"You've come this far, variant" - you said, spinning the cane between your fingers.

Loki let out an airy laugh.

"Oh, I'm so scared"-he said ironically without stopping looking at you- "By the way, you're the pretty girl who was with the other hunter. What was her name? B-15, right?"

Your piercing gaze was still fixed on him, you didn't want to let your guard down even because of those cheap flattery that were coming out of his mouth. You were not an easy girl given to bending her arm

"Enough talk"

You brandished your staff and moved in to attack. Your arm delivered an accurate blow towards his face with the back of the staff that made Loki turn his face to the side, making his hair fly. You wasted no time and pushed your other arm with your fist going directly to his face but he composed himself and blocked your blow with the back of his arm, you raised your leg to kick him but he ducked and kicked you in the stomach sending you backwards. You fell with your hands resting on the floor, you looked at him just as he sat up slightly, throwing his hair back. Small strands of unruly hair stuck to your forehead and you stood up agitated without giving up yet. With even more fury you grabbed your cane and hit him in the stomach, he grabbed you from behind, immobilizing you with a key on your neck.

"I didn't know you could fight so well, I like that"-Loki gasped, breathing exhausted but with a smile on his face.

You squirmed, grunting, under his arm but he held you firmly.

"Maybe after this you can teach me a move or two."

You decided that you had had enough and you elbowed him hard in the ribs. Loki, growling, released you from his grip and bent over, clutching his stomach, which you took advantage of to raise and put your leg over his nape. Surprised, Loki stood up, you wrapped your other leg over his neck, to which he held them, trying to get you off of him, but you quickly turned your trunk and with the strength of your thighs, you sent him to the ground, pushing him hard. Loki did a somersault and stayed there lying on the floor on his back with a grimace of pain clenching his teeth. You stood up with ease with your cane ready to prune him.

"What do you think of a move like that?"

With two hands you held the cane and a smile filled your lips, you bit and lightly sucked your lower lip with satisfaction, you would finally put an end to all your problems by making him disappear. You got dangerously close to Loki who was leaning on his elbows with a pitiful moan, you raised your arms, raising the staff to collide with Loki when a voice behind you froze you.

"There you are!"

You turned around in surprise and saw Mobius and B-15 along with other hunters running towards you. You lowered the cane towards your waist line, looking at Loki in frustration. You were so close. Mobius came to your side to see the scene, Loki was lying on the floor breathing heavily and your forehead was sweaty and you held the staff in your hands until it hurt.

"Looks like you two had fun."

You rolled your eyes as Mobius helped Loki up. You reluctantly deactivated your cane, missing the opportunity to prune him. Again

"My congratulations to your unit team. You have soldiers who hit hard"-Loki said still in pain but with a lopsided smile.

You looked at him wanting to gut him, did he still have the energy to joke? Mobius giggled until he met your angry face and turned serious.

"Listen Loki, we don't have time, something happened and I need your help, you have to come with me yes or yes. I won't take no for an answer. If not, you already know what will happen if you don't cooperate."-He said pointing at you with his thumb.

Loki looked at you, narrowing his eyes, meditating, he did so for a few long seconds, it seemed like he was trying to enter your soul. Loki understood that if he didn't go with Mobius and you he would find himself on the ground with bruises again, but you sensed that he didn't dislike that idea and you wondered why.

"Fine"-Loki finally said

"Perfect! Come, you have to change your clothes, now you're an agent."

Mobius took Loki away, placing a hand on his back, the variant turned around but his gaze remained on you until they were far enough away for you to leave his field of vision. You and B-15 left the hallways, preparing to go to the place where the last hunters had been. While they walked at a safe pace, Hunter B-15 gave you suspicious glances but you had your eyes fixed on the front.

"Well? How did it go?"

"What do you think?"-you said sharply

"Yeah, it's a shame. On the other hand, Loki seemed very interested in you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"-you asked with a grimace

"Oh please, didn't you notice how he looked at you?"

"With hate?"

"No" -she laughed- "Quite the opposite, I think he likes you."

"Excuse me?"

You said as you stopped in your tracks and turned to face her, she imitated you.

"You're wrong"

"And if I'm not? What do you bet?"-She said with her arms on her hips, looking at you funny.

"Are you seriously going to turn this into a bet? Fine, if you win I'll share my lunch with you for a week but if I win you'll have to give me an extra helping of chocolates from the vending machine."

B-15 was about to extend his hand to seal the deal when you raised a finger.

"For two weeks"

B-15 looked at you reproachfully, thinking whether to accept or not, but then he reached out and pressed his hand against yours.

"It's a deal"

You smiled pleased

You and B-15 were waiting for Loki and Mobius to transport you to the indicated place, your thoughts revolved around Loki and your mission, why was it so difficult to prune him? Had Mobius grown so fond of Loki that he could prevent you from doing your job correctly? You always stood out for being efficient and loyal to the TVA, this was your life, you didn't remember anything else and you liked it that way, or rather you had gotten used to it that way. You couldn't imagine anything better, you couldn't imagine another life outside of that place. You were so focused that you didn't realize that Loki and Mobius were already ready, B-15 elbowed you. When you turned your head to see them you raised an eyebrow, Loki was wearing a uniform of a brown jacket and tie that matched his pants, his neatly buttoned white shirt was tight and adjusted to his body, making his pecs noticeable. You decided that this suit fit him better and accentuated his slender figure unlike his old variant suit which was a bit baggy. Loki came to your side, adjusting the lapels of his jacket, lifting them up and smiling at you, you rolled your eyes.

"Well, we can go now" -and then he whispered to B-15- "Before these two kill each other"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that"-she whispered conspiratorially.

Even though they were whispering, they were right behind you so you turned your head, looking at them angrily, frowning. Before they passed through the portal, Loki offered you to go first with an outstretched hand.

"Ladies first"-he said smiling

"I was going to pass first anyway."-You said unmoved, entering through the portal.

The others followed behind you and soon they arrived at what seemed to be a Renaissance fair. There were several circus tents with pennants hanging from ropes that ran from right to left throughout the place. People dressed in period clothing, men in tunics and women in corseted dresses walked around looking at you intrigued. You entered a tent, there were helmets lying on the grass, the place looked like a massacre with things lying around and bodies lying motionless on the ground. You dropped your temp and saw a red line flashing

"There is nothing here, split up and look for that variant"

You put away your tempad and were about to leave the tent along with the others when Loki, who had stayed behind motionless looking at the ground, caught your attention.

"Wait, don't leave the tent, it's a trap."

Mobius turned around. "How are you so sure?"

Loki walked slowly around the room in a theatrical manner, taking his time to speak to create suspense and gain their attention.

"There is a saying in Asgard…Where there are wolf ears, there are wolf teeth, it means that you should pay attention to your surroundings"

You laughed sarcastically. “Please do you want us to believe that?”

"Wait let him finish talking."-mobius said stopping you with his hand

"You look like the people in my town, so gullible, underestimating others. Luckily I was smarter than them"

"We are running out of time" - You warned Mobius

"Loki what's your point?"-he rushed him

"My point is that this variant is waiting for you outside but I can go out and talk to that other Loki, he fervently believes that together we will overthrow the TVA. I can stop him, but with certain conditions.."

"And what would those conditions be?"-You approached him defiantly.

"Guess that I will be able to return to Earth and fulfill my purpose, and I think I will have to talk to the time keepers, they are in more danger than they imagine."

You put your arms on your hips, breathing deeply in frustration, you couldn't believe how filthy this variant was in front of you. Mobius sat in silence for a few seconds until he finally gave his verdict.

"Bravo Loki, you almost fooled me" -Mobius looked at the others - "He's fooling us, there's no one outside"

Annoyed at having wasted your time, you left the tent with the other hunters, but before leaving, B-15 placed a device similar to an oil lamp on the ground, resetting the timeline as if nothing had happened.

Upon returning to the TVA you and Mobius had to endure a talkative Loki all the way, the previously grumpy and distrustful Loki had disappeared and in his place had left this hyperactive man with the attitude of a 5 year old child who ate a lot of sugar. Mobius, tired, went to take another elevator away from the two of you, leaving you with that unbearable variant that looked behind you with that characteristic mischievous smile of his.

"I hope you're happy, you fed up the only person who tolerates you in this place"-you said entering the elevator

"Oh, you don't like me then?"-He made a pitiful pout.

"Not even a little"-you said without hesitation

"I think that remains to be seen."

His stupid smile makes you sick, you hated his impudence and bragging, thinking he was the smart one in the place, when everyone knew that you and everyone at the TVA were the ones in control. But I also hated to hate him, you didn't know why, but that impertinent attitude he had filled you with adrenaline, made you feel as if you had a challenge to solve, an intriguing challenge. And you loved challenges

"Well, I hope you're done with your little tricks because we won't fall for them anymore."

Loki laughed and walked closer to you, standing in front of you to look at you.

"Aw it's so adorable that you think you're smarter than me, I'm always ten steps ahead."-He said, patting your shoulders and rubbing them, your muscles tensed nervously at this gesture.

"Don't touch me again."-you said, abruptly removing his hands from you.

The two remained silent until they reached some offices where Mobius was waiting for you two. He had gone ahead and was looking for some papers in a file. When he heard your footsteps he got up from the seat.

"Oh here you are, Loki, A-9 I want you to look for variant files, as many as you can find. I'm going to lunch."

Before leaving he addressed Loki especially.

"I hope you have fun, and some advice, search as if your life depended on it"

With that he walked away, leaving the two of you alone. Loki sighed boredly and sat in the seat that Mobius had left, reviewing papers. You sat in front of him doing the same. Loki seemed bored and didn't seem to take things seriously, muttering expletives and feigning surprise when he read something obvious, casually pushing the papers away. Tired of hearing him talk, you told him to shut up

"Shh!, you can shut up? "

Loki frowned and shushed you with a finger on his lips. Annoyed, you got up from the seat and stood next to him.

"Loki, this is serious, why don't you collaborate?

"What else do you want me to do? It's not my fault that you want to bore me to death."

"Stand up"-you barked the order

Loki reluctantly obeyed you, now that he was close to you and standing in front of you you realized how tall he was and you had to lift your chin until your neck hurt a little. You grabbed his arm firmly and led him away from the offices with a frown.

"Hey! where are you taking me?"

"Let's chat for a while"

Without flinching you guided him with a quick step towards the corridors looking for a place where you could talk alone without interruptions, after walking for a while and with Loki chattering like a confused parrot you arrived at the women's bathrooms that were under repairs, you pushed the door with your stood and they both entered.

"Why do we go into the women's bathroom?"

"You wish if you think I'll go into the men's bathroom. This one is cleaner"-you said with mocking laughter

"But..."

You turned around irritated to look at him.

"Ugh stop talking already!, don't be a coward!. And I will also tell you that you are, a useless person who only thinks about himself and doesn't take things seriously!"

You said as you tapped his chest with your index finger putting emphasis on the words, Loki was going to interrupt you when you called him a coward but he simply sighed with his arms on his hips looking at you intrigued.

"Why do you hate me so much? Why do you insist on pruning me?"

His words hit your face like a bucket of cold water and you were speechless for a few seconds, then your typical frown appeared, wrinkling your forehead.

"I- I don't.. hate you. I'm just doing my job!"you said touching your cane

"Oh right, I had forgotten, my bad"- he said smiling and placing a hand on his chest

"Seriously, Loki, what is happening is serious, we have never lost so many soldiers."- You said tired and worried, no longer wanting to fight.

Loki looked at you thoughtfully and then apologized to which you breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing your body, but when you lowered your guard, Loki approached and quickly took your cane that was on your belt.

"LOKI GIVE IT TO ME!

"Oh you want it? Then come get it."

You screamed in fury and desperation while Loki smiled triumphantly, spinning the staff in his hands. You lunged at him but Loki dodged you by moving to the side, Loki was faster and more agile than you thought and the worst thing was that he was considerably taller than you so Loki mocked you by raising the staff so you couldn't reach it. You jumped in a pathetic attempt to grab it.

"You'll have to do a lot more than that"- he laughed

In a moment of distraction you kneed him in the groin to which he bent forward, lowering his arm. You were about to grab your cane but he recovered quickly and with a growl pinned your arms.

"Enough"- he warned you

"You started!"- you said baring your teeth and trying to get out of his grasp.

"Enough of hitting me or-"

"Or what?! I'm not afraid of-"

Loki closed the distance and kissed you hard. You opened your eyes in surprise and then wrinkled your brow, you wanted to separate but the more time you spent on his lips the more you wanted to stay like that. You clung to the lapels of his shirt as he leaned closer to you and explored your mouth with his tongue. Your hands traveled to his hair and held onto his locks firmly, you gasped into his mouth from the shock. Loki pulled away from your mouth a little and hummed.

"We should do this more often, even your annoying frown disappeared from your face"- he teased you

You frowned annoying but a smile threatened to appear on your lips, you repressed it

"Oh no, there is"-he smiled mischievously

"I didn't tell you to stop"

You tugged at his lapels and crashed your lips against his again. His hands were on your hips squeezing them and your arms went around his neck. His nose was buried in your cheek at the proximity of his face. You ran your mouth over his lips to memorize them and remember them later, they felt soft and warm and were slightly swollen. Loki gently turned you so that you were facing the mirror and with your back against his chest. He began to place hot, wet kisses on your jaw and neck, you placed a hand in his hair to feel him closer. Loki buried his face and mouth in your skin while you tilted your head to the opposite side to give him more space. The fervent strength and passion that Loki put into his kisses made you moan softly. Suddenly Loki lowered a hand that was on your waist towards your belt, you opened your eyes wide and stopped him by grabbing his wrist firmly, he looked at you in surprise.

"Wait! what are you doing?"- you said with a bit of fear

"Calm down darling, I was just going to unbuckle your belt. I wasn't going to hurt you"

"The thing is.."- you said shyly

"I understand, I will be gentle"- He whispered to you and kissed your cheek delicately.

That calmed you down a little, you were embarrassed to admit that it was your first time, no one had touched you before and much less like Loki did, elegant and soft. Loki took off your belt and put one hand inside your pants, approaching your mons, with one finger he began to massage your clitoris over your underwear. You gasped in surprise and felt like you were going to fall but Loki firmed his grip on your hip. You watched in the mirror as Loki's hand did wonders on your sweet spot, you could barely keep your eyes open from the pleasure. When there was more confidence, Loki slid his fingers inside your underwear and began to pump in and out. You felt your legs shake and you threw your head back trying to stay upright, Loki didn't give you any respite and kissed and bit your neck while he worked his hand down there.

"L-Loki.. ahHhg"- you moan

"Look at you, how pretty you are, so needy for me and begging for me to touch you."

Loki's deep and hoarse voice made your breathing rise, you looked in the mirror. Your chest rose and fell and your face was flushed and sweaty, strands of hair stuck to your forehead and your neck glistened with sweat, Loki next to you and close to your neck looked at you in the reflection with a seductive look drunk with lust. and pleasure. Loki's fingers pumped faster and faster and your thighs began to tremble and your knees flexed a little, you breathed through your mouth.

"Oh my god... Loki-!"

Loki took his hand out of your soaked clit and kissed your hair, you looked at him annoyed and confused to which he smiled.

"Not yet, hold on a little longer for me"

You were going to protest but he lifted you up, grabbing your thighs and sat you on the counter near where the sinks were, a little cry of surprise came out of your mouth. A willing growl came from Loki.

"How delightful.."

You opened your mouth to say something but he silenced you with a hungry kiss, biting your lower lip while his hands traveled to where your protective breastplate was, unbuttoning it and taking it off, throwing it to the ground.

"This annoying uniform won't work for us now"

Loki opened your shirt, leaving your bust exposed and began to kiss and leave marks on it while his hands grabbed your pants and slowly lowered them. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck, panting and closing your eyes. It was the first time you were left speechless, especially in front of a man, but he was different from everyone else. You were thankful that there was no one in the bathroom but the two of you at that moment. Suddenly Loki separated and desire was drawn in his eyes.

"Are you… are you ready?"

You nodded and Loki pulled down your pants and your panties while he unbuttoned his own pants. You nervously saw how his cock stuck out of his boxers like a divine bulge, and when he pulled down his underwear you gasped in surprise. He smiled mischievously at you.

"Don't worry, I promised you I would be gentle."

He positioned himself right in the center of your entrance and asked you again if you were ready, you told him yes, you couldn't wait to feel and taste his warmth. He put the tip inside you and you moaned loudly clinging to the back of his neck, but it was just a scare, actually it didn't hurt you like you thought it would and that intrigued you.

"Did it hurt?"

You denied, surprised. "P-please continue.."

With your consent Loki entered you fully and you gasped loudly, you didn't think his size could fit inside you but it did. His thrusts touched you deep inside and your breathy screams echoed in the bathroom. Loki dug his fingers into your thighs, tensing his arms while you kept your chin resting on his shoulder, trying to keep up the pace and not speed up your breathing. At one point a strong thrust from him hit a sensitive spot inside you and with a whimper you bit his shoulder to which Loki growled.

Your body bounced and collided with the mirror behind you. Loki's grunts and gasps filled your ears and were driving you to your climax, while his cock hardened and your walls tightened around him, hugging him like a warm blanket. You dug your nails into his broad back, feeling like he was about to cum.

"N-norns.. ahg.. you're getting.. tight I can feel you're about to-to cum"

Loki's face tightened with effort while your breathing became faster and faster, your legs felt weak and your thighs trembled, everything was escalating quickly.

"Come on do it, do it for me ngh"

His voice broken by lust was what triggered your fluids to shoot out with a loud and pleasant moan and a tremor throughout your body. Loki threw his head back and came with you. You let your head fall on his chest exhausted and feeling weak. He put his arms around you, hugging you as you took a moment to catch your breath. Then Loki easily lifted you off the counter like a feather and straightened your clothes, you did the same with his. When they were ready, Loki saw that the staff had been left on the ground, he slowly picked it up with your eyes fixed on it, he held it in his hands for a while and then looked at you. There were a few seconds of silence in which only his heartbeat and yours could be heard. With relief you saw how he gave you the cane.

"I think this belongs to you"

You took it and for the first time in a long time you smiled genuinely, but your smile was erased in a second, you had remembered something.

"Oh shit..."

"What's wrong?"

"I owe my lunch to B-15, damn it"

Loki looked at you confused, frowning and you laughed softly.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter. Let's go back before they discover us, Mobius would have already finished eating"

You grabbed his hand and trotted towards the offices making sure not to be seen or heard. Maybe Mobius was right, maybe Loki wasn't as bad as he seemed.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 16: When a friend is in need /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Lucien goes after his family for help, stepping in the Autmun Court for the first time in centuries.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: The usual angst.

Notes: I thought about not posting this today, since everything that's been happening but I decided to post to bring some joy in between the terrible things that are happening, I hope you guys understand my position. Love u.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Lucien held Elain’s hand and she noticed how his palms were sweaty, with a slight shake. She knew he was nervous, coming home after so long, she didn't even know how long it was. But here they were, strolling through the hallways of the Forest House. 

The wooden walls are adorned with centuries of Autumn Court art, orange curtains and the smell of oak. The decorations were picked to complement each other, everything ornate to create a magical atmosphere, but something felt wrong. 

She didn't know if it was the way the servants avoided looking at them, quickly bowing their heads at the sight of the youngest autumn prince or how they immediately ran away from their path. The atmosphere felt tense, like they were afraid of doing the wrong thing and being punished for it. 

But her mate had asked her to join him, he wanted her there, she even dared to think that he needed her there, to ground him and remind him that he had gotten out of that, he wasn't stuck under his father's grip anymore, he was a free male. 

The guards at the double door bowed their heads to him, pushing the doors open to reveal the throne room, Beron sat with a sneer, crown atop his head as he eyed Lucien and Elain up and down. By his side, silently, his mother sat, her eyes litting up with love and longing, her fingers twitched to touch her beautiful son. 

His eyes lingered on his mother for a little while longer, before he turned to his brothers standing by the sides, Eris first as always, being the first born and the heir. Arathorn by his side as the second oldest, Inialos as the middle born and then finally Elissar, the second youngest. Lucien could almost see himself by his side, serious expression and impeccable posture, like they did now. 

“I couldn't believe you would actually have the audacity to show up after that letter “demanding” a meeting!” Beron said and Elain flinched with the look directed to her. “Especially with someone like her, not even a real fae.” 

“I'm not here to talk to you.” Lucien said, ignoring the disgusting tone in his father's voice. “I came here to talk to you, brothers.” He turned to his siblings, they all looked at him with interest. 

“I'm here to ask for your help, we have an enemy in common, Koschei.” He started but Beron scoffed. 

“Koschei is not an enemy, he's here to save us all from someone like Rhysand and his whore of a mate.” Lucien felt Elain squeezing his hand harder. 

“Is that the lie he feeds you, father?” Lucien's stern gaze focused on the male at the throne, how he hated him. 

“It's the truth, and he'll make us powerful again.” Beron said with his chest puffed, confidence filled him. 

“More like kill you all.” Elain replied. 

“What do you know about it?” He barely looked at her.

“Koschei is from a world of demons, they kill and conquer, and do you know what can kill the likes of him?” Her voice didn't falter, she was ready to get them to work together no matter what. 

“What does kill him, dear sister?” Eris spoke, earning a growl from his father, Lucien needed him and he wouldn't fail him, not anymore. 

“Fire.” All of their eyes were on her now.

“Our fire.” Lucien added. “The fire of Celeste Vanserra, the only one who was close enough to kill Koschei.”

“There's no Celeste Vanserra. They are lying and you're too dumb to believe it, Eris. But I shouldn't be surprised.” If looks could kill, Eris would be dead by now. 

“She was my ancestor.” His mother spoke and he basked in the warmth of her voice, he missed her. “They tried to erase her from history, but her name was passed through the females in my family, no one forgot her, Celeste was the fire born, we carry her blood and her power.” 

“Lies!” Beron yelled, rising from his spot. Elain felt her head hurt, her vision getting blurry and her head was filled with visions, from a nearby future, where no autumn court remained, destroyed by Koschei. 

“It will be the end of your lineage, Beron Vanserra, and your own end. Koschei won't stop until he kills every single fae with fire abilities.” She warned, she could see his dead corpse in her head, his sons laying by his side. 

“And what do you want us to do, brother?” Arathorn intervened, stepping forward.

“You need to fight, we need to end Koschei, or else he'll end us.” Lucien begged and his brothers nodded. 

“We'll come with you.” Elissar promised, but Beron laughed, so loud that made Elain's ear hurt. 

“You won't do such a thing, no one will leave this court as Koschei isn't a threat.” He commanded, fear clouded his sons' gazes, they never respected him, but fear has a way to control people, make their bend to their will, but not anymore. 

“Your children will help us if they choose to do so, you won't stop them, or else your end won't come by Koschei’s hand. You will learn why they call me the King slayer.” Elain promised, her irises still white from the vision she had, Beron trembled with the simple promise her words carried, either he got out of the way or he would die. 

“If you go, don't dare coming back.” He threatened but for the first time, this felt more like a blessing than a curse. So one by one, his sons followed to their brother's side. 

“I will fight too.” His mother got up from the throne, walking to stand among her children, Beron was fuming but he wouldn't dare to try anything when his sons could do much worse to him. So he watched in silence as she cupped Lucien's cheek, pulling him in for a long, tight hug, whispered something in his ear and turned to Elain, repeating the motion. “Welcome to the family darling, I promise we are better than this.”

“I know. And I'm glad to be a part of this.” She gestured to the males surrounding her, and Beron sulked into his seat as he watched his wife and kids leave the throne room, leaving him alone and feeling disrespected for the first time in centuries. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The Vanserras gathered around the dining table, the spectre twins serving them plates filled with food. Feyre talked happily with Wendy, lady of the autumn court. Azriel occasionally squeezed Y/N’s thigh under the table, feeling a bit uncomfortable in their presence, after all, centuries old feud between the two courts weren’t easily forgotten over a good meal, but he was happy they decided to help. 

“So…” Eris said, clearing his throat, all the attention drifted to him, the chatter dying down. “What’s the plan we have?” 

“Well, we will free Koschei.” The autumn heirs gasped.

“Do you  think this is the best way of handling this?” Inialos inquired, trying to be as polite as he was taught, not wanting to disrespect a High Lord in his own home. 

“Unfortunately it’s the only way of doing it, that’s where you will shine.” Y/N replied, giving the males an encouraging thumbs up. 

“We need you all to create a fire dome. Once Lucien, Azriel, Y/N and I are inside, nothing can come out. It’s your job to prevent Koschei from getting free and conquering the rest of Prythian.” Nesta said with a smile gracing her beautiful harsh face. 

“And you think we can do it?” Arathorn raised his eyebrow in disbelief. 

“We are the only ones that can do it, we carry the blood and the name of Celeste, we will finish what she started.” Wendy Vanserra guaranteed and her sons looked at their mother, the confidence that they hadn't seen shining in her eyes for centuries was finally back. She was free now and she would never go back to being a slave. 

“Then it’s settled. Let’s kill that bastard.” Eris raised his glass in a sarcastic toast, he was sure they were fucked but if Koschei was half as dangerous as he suspected, using his powers to its fullest was the least of their problems. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, watching as Y/N sat by the large window in her room. Her eyes distant, her eyebrows scrunched like she was in pain.

“I miss him.” Azriel smiled at that.

“It’s only been two days.” He sat by her side, his thumb tracing the side of her face, along the bumpy patch of skin that formed her scar. 

“We’ve never been apart for so long.” She took a deep breath. “After Asterin, he was my anchor for so long. He had lost his friends just like me, so I couldn't force more suffering upon him. Whenever I was nearing the edge..” An iron nail slided across the skin of her neck and Azriel swallowed harshly at the thought. “He kept me alive.” 

“He is fine, I know that.” He kissed her hand, the one he pulled away from her neck. “Soon you two will be together.” She rested her head against his chest, letting the beatings of his heart soothe her distressed mind. “Let’s go to sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow.” 

Y/N nodded, getting up and following the Shadowsinger towards the bed, allowing him to pull her closer and wrap his arms around her waist, his scent filling her mind. His fingers tracing invisible random patterns on the skin of her hips. 

“Do you think you will ever forget me?” She blurted, not allowing him to answer before she continued. “Cuz no matter the distance between us, how many worlds I travel to, you’re engraved in my heart forever, you saw me, truly saw me when I was afraid of looking at myself, you mended the broken pieces of my soul and made me someone again.” 

“Is this your way of saying goodbye?” He inquired and truly? She didn’t know.

She kept quiet for a while, her mind in a violent battle with her heart. She had to go back, Manon needed her, she had her duties to fulfil, Asterin would be so disappointed if she left it all behind. She couldn’t let Manon down cuz letting Manon down meant letting Asterin’s efforts all go to waste. 

“I don’t know.” Her heart bleeded with that answer, that stupid thing ready to throw it all out for him, her soul claimed for him. If the time ever came, she didn’t know how she would be able to choose. 

“In that case, I'm glad I had this time with you, it's more than i could’ve asked for, thank you for allowing me in your heart.” He kissed her lips with a delicacy that broke her heart just a bit further. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The next day came, Y/N shuffled in bed, feeling more tired than the day before, her body rested but her mind kept awake, frantic thoughts preventing her from actually resting properly, she kept quiet, not wanting to wake Azriel up, she didn’t wanted to face the sadness that clouded his eyes after their conversation last night, too damn coward to face him, to tell him that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. Why would she say it, just to break both of their hearts when she eventually went home? She wouldn’t be that cruel.

So she sucked it up, taking a long scalding shower that usually helped her through the day, getting in the Illyrian leathers that were like a second skin to her now, attaching both her sword and cloak behind her back before she stepped out of the bathroom. Azriel is long gone. 

The house was empty, just Nesta sat there, silently sipping tea from a mug, her icy blue eyes moving upwards, following the movements of Y/N sitting down with a sigh. She took in the prominent dark circles and the sadness darkening her gaze.

“Hard night?” The oldest Archeron inquired, getting a shrug as a reply.

“How am I supposed to leave you all behind?” She said, looking far away from the female in front of her, her fork poking a fluff piece of scrambled eggs. 

“You know you don’t need to, you can stay here with us.” Nesta offered and her eyes filled with tears, so heavy that she lowered her head.

“I can’t.” She took a deep breath. “They need me!”

“Do they? Or is that what you tell yourself?” Y/N turned her cold gaze towards Nesta, the female almost flinched with the pain reflected in them.

“I don’t even know at this point. I don’t belong anywhere.” She hiccuped, tears falling down the sides of her cheeks. “I am no one, I’m not important anymore, I keep telling myself that they need me but you’re right, do they? Are they even looking for me?”

“That’s not true, you know?” Nesta slides her hand over the table, opening her fingers, letting her know that she was there for her. “You matter and you are important to us.” 

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to burden you with all of this, it’s just so lonely and suffocating sometimes. I’m sorry.” Nesta felt her placing her hand on top of hers, she grasped it, squeezing it hard.

“Never apologise for your feelings. I’m your friend, I'm here to carry this weight with you.” She smiled at the Archeron, sniffling and looking at her with bright blue eyes.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, thank you for everything Nesta.” The female smiled back at her.

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s my pleasure to call you my friend.” Nesta gave two light squeezes in her hand. “Let’s go?” Y/N nodded, getting up, her barely eaten breakfast disappearing. 

“Alright.” The two females walked towards the training balcony, everyone was there apart from Cassian, he was with the Illyrian troops, gathering them and transporting them towards the Manor, Jurian was already waiting for them with all they needed to feed an army that big. But if everything went according to the plan, it wouldn’t be longer until they were back to their camps. 

“Good morning ladies.” Elain greeted, waving from Lucien’s side. She was more certain of her abilities of Seer now, she thought that she could help if she was around, Lucien wasn’t very fond of the idea but he would never tell her no. 

“Good morning.” Y/N replied, her eyes landing on the distant figure of Azriel, on the farest corner of the balcony, his shadows darted towards her, wrapping themselves around her ankles and wrists, brushing over her face and making her smile. He watched the exchange in silence.

“Since we’re all here, it’s time to go.” Rhysand warned. They all started to get in small groups, the ones able to winnow carrying those who couldn’t.

She felt the breeze on her face, opening her eyes, Morrigan had winnowed them to the front yard of the Manor, where people walked around, getting settled. Winged warriors in battle gears and sharp swords here and there. 

His loud roar sounded when Meraxes felt her closer, startling everyone around. He had been in a sour mood since she left, she knew that. So she ran, looking for him, finding him near Azriel in the backyard. The shadowsinger petted his nose, pointing towards her with a smile. Y/N threw herself against her wyvern, arms engulfing him in a hug. 

“I missed you.” She said and he growled in agreement, like he was telling her to never be apart from him again. She stood like that for what felt like an eternity, just feeling him, their hearts beating as one. “I need to ask you a favour.” His big eyes opened and he stood still. “You won’t be able to protect me once I’m inside, so please protect Lucien’s brothers, they will be vulnerable and we need them.” Meraxes nodded. “I love you.” He puffed some steam around her body, his way of saying that he loved her too.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise that to you.” Azriel said from behind her, he had stayed silent until now. He was hurt from the idea of losing her, but he understood whatever decision she made, he would accept it and he would still love her with every fibre of his being. Meraxes nodded towards him and pushed Y/N away, making her stumble towards Azriel, collapsing against his chest.

“He respects you.” She said as the two walked inside. 

“Just because we both love you.” She stilled, turning to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. It was getting harder to think about leaving him. 

“We need to meet them, get everything planned for tomorrow.” She pulled him towards the dining room. 

“Why are we always the ones saving the world?” Cassian groaned, eyeing the map that displayed the lake and the cabin.

“Because we’re fucking awesome.” Morrigan replied, earning a chuckle from the table. 

“Then this should be easy.” Y/N spoke, getting closer to the table.

“Yeah, let’s get everything sorted.” Rhys silenced the table. “The illyrian troops will hide around in the forest along with the Vanserras.” Devlon and the red haired males nodded in agreement. “Azriel will disguise him and Lucien as Y/N and Nesta’s shadow.” Azriel nodded. “Y/N will pretend to take Nesta to him, and as soon as they’re inside, the dome needs to be up.” 

“It will be.” Eris spoke, earning an approving glare from Rhysand. 

“The monsters will attack as soon as he feels that something is wrong, so pay close attention, cut their heads out, and they will 100% die.” Y/N advised. 

“You already know the words Nesta?” The female nodded, she had been studying the freeing spell from the diary, they hoped it worked. “Then I think we are ready.” They all nodded. 

“You all should rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.” Elain kindly advised.

“Just a regular day for us folks.” Azriel said, the inner circle started to laugh. “You should rest.” He said, guiding her upstairs to the room they shared in their stay there. 

“If anything happens tomorrow, I'm glad we had this time.” She said, feeling dread setting in her gut. She couldn’t wait for this nightmare to be over.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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@acourtofdreamsandshadows

[thursdaygxrls]

Hello! Can I request for tasm!peter parker (maybe taking place at the school or something) where he meets the reader who has a band? Like they are always tapping their pencil and muttering songs and they become friends and he ends up going to their show?? THANK YOU!!!

ahhh i love this request!! i used to be in a band, so this is like a repressed fantasy. also, i sort of imagined this band as being rock/soft punk, i'm sorry if that wasn't the intended genre

At the Roboto

summary — gen-ed classes really suck, but a pencil tapper provides peter with a great distraction.

pairing — college!peter parker x drummer!gn!reader

disclaimer — as always, i don’t own peter (wish i did)

warnings — unedited (literally always is)

The Roboto Club was not a place Peter thought he'd ever find himself. It was small, stuffy, and definitely sticky. The walls were covered in stickers and signatures of bands who had played there (as well as patrons who'd come up with some very colorful insults). The thumping of music filled his ears as his body was jostled by those around him. As he tried to force himself to not freak out from the overstimulation, he made himself remember why he was here:

Gen-ed courses were the worst. Peter had already earned a semester’s worth of college credits in high school, but it wasn’t enough to save him from the agonizing hour and a half long lectures about the Industrial Revolution. His one saving grace had come in the form of a chewed-up number two pencil tapping against the desk next to him.

From the first day of class, he could hear it. Rhythmic pulses of the eraser followed by the staccato of the graphite. He'd glanced over, seeing the owner of the pencil lazily watching the lecture, busy clicking the utensil against the desk instead of writing. He had always assumed it was some sort of nervous tick of theirs until he paid more attention to the beat. There was a pattern to it--the thump of the eraser and the click of the graphite.

Thump. Thump-thump, click-click. Thump. Thump-thump, click-click.

It was a month into the course when he noticed that no matter how it may change, they always held a steady beat with the pencil. It was around this same time when he began hearing the humming. Peter thought he was hearing things at first from how quiet it was. It was too melodic to be an insect, so the bee-theory was ruled out quickly. When he listened in a little closer, he was able to find that the faint noise he was hearing had been coming from the Pencil-Tapper.

When deep in concentration, they had the tendency to hum under their breath. It was like they didn't even notice. They would be moving from typing out notes on their laptop to scribbling on a post-it when they'd start mumbling out a soft melody. Though it was rare, sometimes these murmured melodies would align with the beat of their pencil.

Peter had always been known to be a star student, no matter how boring a class may be, but this Pencil-Tapper was a welcome reprieve from the monotonous lecture he was subjected to twice a week. It was nothing more than innocent interest, of course. No creepy stalking or constant surveillance. Just a way to pass the time as the professor droned on.

Two months into the class, the first lecture of the week had just ended. As always, Peter and the Pencil-Tapper packed their stuff away in humdrum routine. What was different, though, was when the Tapper's pencil fell from their desk. It rolled slowly enough that it hit the ground without a sound, but, of course, Peter heard it. His breath hitched.

He had two options: grab the pencil or ignore it entirely. The kind thing to do would be to return it, but the difficult part of that would be that he would have to return it. Chewing his lip, he looked down at it. It was so small, sharpened down to half its original size. Surely, they wouldn't mind missing something like that. When he looked up, he saw them already walking away. Damn his savior complex.

"Hey," Peter called, his fingers wrapped around the end of the pencil that wasn't ridden with bite marks, "You dropped this."

"Oh, thanks," Tapper's voice came out slow as they looked down at the pencil, "Gross. Sorry about that."

"No big deal." He shook his head, handing over the utensil with a small smile. They returned the grin and turned to exit when Peter interrupted with a small cough.

"Um—" Peter, you dumb, dumb kid, you have nothing to say, why the hell are you speaking? "—So, you tap a lot."

That seemed to catch them off guard. They stopped, letting students filter out of the classroom beyond them. With a quirk of their head, they began speaking again, "I didn't realize I was that loud."

"You're not!" Peter rushed out, "No, no, I just meant that sometimes I get bored, and I sort of tune in to your tapping. Not, like, in a weird way."

"I see," they tutted, "Well, I mean, if you're interested in the pencil tapping, maybe you'd like to hear it on the drums?"

Silence fell between them. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt more like a few hours. The gears in Peter's head turned a little slower than he was used to.

"That was a stupid question, sorry," Tapper let out a sheepish chuckle.

"Not at all," Peter replied quickly, "I just realized that you must've been tapping actual songs."

"Oh, yeah," they nodded, "I'm in a band—Dial 616? We're not big or anything."

"Cool," Peter grinned, regaining a fraction of his calm.

"We have a gig this Saturday at the Roboto. It's just off campus," they explained, "You could totally come if you want. I mean, if you're interested in hearing actual music, not just tapping."

And so he came. The Robot Club was located in a skinny building wedged between a record store and a laundromat. Admission was ten dollars, and there were a few acts. The music was loud and sort of overwhelming, but he held on. Somewhere between the second and third act, he wondered why he was subjecting himself to this. He was reminded when Dial 616 was introduced.

Tapper looked a lot different from the normal sweatpants and t-shirt he'd usually seen them in. Dramatic makeup had been painted on their face that had the illusion of changing color with the flashing of the club's LEDs. Ripped jeans, chunky black boots, a tank top, and two battered drumsticks finished off their outfit. There were four other members of the band, all in equally striking clothes. The crowd around Peter whooped in recognition as they took to the stage, introducing their first song.

They played a few originals and a few covers, Peter's favorite of which being their rendition of California Über Alles. Tapper was a force on the drums. Their face was drawn in utter concentration as they slammed away. They moved from precise beats to messy patterns all without ever losing control of the tempo or their sticks.

When their set was over, they hopped from the makeshift stage, leaving the borrowed instruments there for the next band. Peter was sure it wasn't concert etiquette to immediately follow them, but his body was moving on its own accord. He threaded through the people and to the clump that formed around the band. Maybe they weren't huge yet, but there were still a lot of people bombarding them with screams and hollers of excitement. He noticed Tapper at the end of the of the band members, smiling as they signed someone's arm with a sharpie. When they were done, they looked up, and just like fate, their eyes met Peter's.

"Hey!" They greeted, their voice loud over the already booming music of the next band, "You came. I didn't think you would."

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

"Well, because we only talked once. And you don't know my name, and I don't know yours," they said. Their tone held no malice or condescension, just the aftershocks of adrenaline from being on stage.

"I'm Peter." He had to yell to be heard.

"Y/n," they replied. There was another moment of standstill silence. This time, though, it wasn't awkward. It would actually be calm if not for the thunderous clash of drums behind them.

"I have to go, but, uh, we were gonna go out for pizza if you wanted to come?" Y/n suggested, their behavior suddenly coy in contrast with their appearance.

"Yeah—okay," Peter grinned. They offered him one last smile before disappearing with the rest of the band. Gen-ed actually wasn't that bad after all.

a/n — me 🤝 making up nicknames for the reader

taglist

@reidslovely @iamliterallyspidergwen

[flubnuggetpurple]

Dove Cameron’s Alchemical album is so fucking bat coded I feel like a conspiracy theorist.

(This went off the rails at one point, so WARNING: vague mentions of sexual assault and being drugged without consent)

First song: Lethal Woman.

Cass, all over, right? The bridge is “she walks like a saint, floats like an angel, sharp like a knife under the table”

c o m e o n

Second song: Still.

“Man on the screen, they only see whatever you want them to see” and “Supernova self-erasing, hourglass is always draining”

Could be either Tim or Bruce, but I lean toward Tim because of “how dare you, dare me to love you, if you jump I will too” because whenever Tim decides he loves someone, he’s the ride or die, ends of the earth type, even if they don’t even know who he is. A) how and why he became Robin in the first place, B) The Cloning Thing, C) an argument could be made for the Captain Boomerang thing (but now that I think of it, I think I’m mostly basing this off fanon oh well ontotgenextone).

Song Three: Breakfast.

I will admit out the gate that this one’s a reach, so I’m just going to leave Selina here.

Song Four: Sand.

For this I’m thinking Tim or Jason, for different reasons.

For Tim;

“I saw the end when we began, you couldn’t love the way I can, I tried to bargain with the stars, for more than half your heart but you have more pieces of me than the dessert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I could hold in my hand” and “our love’s misaligned, ‘cause you’re on my mind every night, I stretch out the time, and now I know why.”

I’m just making it obvious I read the Red Robin run, aren’t I?

For Jason:

“What's worse, being wanted but not loved, or loved but not wanted? What's worse, hearing what you wanna hear, or hearing what's honest?” And “What hurts, is the one thing that you wanna do, is the one thing that you shouldn’t do”

Pre-death Jason, but like, right after the Garzonas thing.

Song five: White Glove.

Okay hear me out.

This is part one of the Dick Grayson saga; the persona he shows to the public. This is Richie Wayne. This is every honeypot mission he went on too young, every woman he’s had to seduce for information (it’s one hundred percent happened before don’t fight me) every source of sexual trauma (that one I’m ninety percent sure is canon) that keeps him up at night.

And this guy’s been a vigilante for over twenty years, he can absolutely recognize drugs by sight, smell, and how they feel when he’s too late to notice something slipped in his drink. He’s felt nearly every strain of fear toxin and every one of Ivy’s pollens. If anyone knows their drugs it’s pretty boy Richie Wayne and Robin.

Song six: God’s Game

This one I’m definitely taking some lines out of context, but for Jason, “Just a boy with a man's face, playin' God's game” is when he’s taking over Crime Alley, pit-mad and trigger happy. “I prepare with so much care, I was runnin', it was stunnin', I am desperate from delusions, not much of a solution, never knowin' what the truth is, oh, God” is when hid plans start to fall apart, when Bruce slits his throat with a batarang, when eventually the pit-madness eventually starts to wear off and he realizes what all he did to Tim, who was a child at the time, not to mention Robin.

He nearly became what the Joker was to him to the next Robin, and I feel like at some point that would occur to him.

Song seven: Boyfriend.

(…Admittedly, I don’t think this one has any grounding in canon and if it does, feel free to educate me.)

So, obviously I could mention Kate Kane at this point, but I know basically nothing about her, so instead I’m going to talk about Steph.

So Steph has definitely had some shitty experiences with guys, right? Like, her dad to begin with, but also the guy who got her pregnant (at like fourteen? Maybe I’m just sheltered, but I don’t think anything about that relationship was heathy—again, I haven’t read many of the comics, so correct me if I’m wrong), then Tim, which, I love him as a character, but didn’t he date her in the mask for like, months, and I have some vague recollections of some dickish things he said (i know i know i need to read more comics)—whatever. Men are shitty.

I have a scene in my head. Like, Steph’s in college, at a bar with friends or something, maybe it’s an under cover op, idk, and there’s this girl she’s been lowkey watching all night. She doesn’t quite know why, but she just keeps catching her eye, and okay, it’s not like she’s never questioned her sexuality, she knows Cass. There have been Extensive conversations with Babs on the subject.

Anyway, so at some point, there’s obviously some sort of argument between the girl and the guy she came with and the girl’s crying, and Steph just Can’t Handle That.

She goes up to her, comforts her, makes a new friend, listens to the whole story.

And at some point, she has the thought.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

She doesn’t necessarily do anything about it that night, but now that she’s had the thought, it won’t leave her alone.

Yeah. So. Maybe I’ll write that story later.

Song eight (last song): FRAGILE THINGS.

Dick Grayson part two; So your mentor (dad) just died, leaving you an angry murder child, another one hanging on by a thread after losing eighty percent of his support system, a grieving butler (grandfather), and a mantle the size of the Most Dangerous City in America. Any direction you move is going to hurt someone, and one kid is more likely to snap and murder people than the other, and hey, if you have to be Batman anyway, might as well let your brilliant kid brother be Nightwing, right? Except, whoops, you forgot to mention that last part and now Timmy thinks you just replaced him without telling him and fuck you knew you were forgetting something and now there’s a goddamned imposter Bruce and—

“Love is like a house of fragile things, where hearts can be broken as easy as antiques, and now there’s glass all shattered at my feet, what we built together, you left in smithereens.”

Anyway. This got kind of incoherent (or maybe it was from the start?)

I accidentally added a poll at the bottom and can’t figure out how to remove it, so.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

Okay I'm about to don the tinfoil hat, guys.

Guys, I keep thinking about this season and the end, and I feel like I can't believe everything played out as it seems.

Spoilers ahead.

So.

So like.

You just expect me to believe that after making this big show about how Aziraphale is a traitor and how Crowley is a traitor and blah blah blah The Great Plan and everything and Gabriel being a murderous, power-hungry little bastard, he and Beelzebub just sorta went, "You know what? Nevermind."

And at the end when he gets everything back, that's... That's just sorta it? "Wherever Beelzebub is, that's my Heaven. 😍"

And then they just run away together and everyone's just like, "IDK I guess we'll just erase Aziraphale from the book of life? 🤷‍♀️" Like why erase Aziraphale for helping Gabriel and not Gabriel who is the one who actually abandoned his duties and ran away?

I DON'T KNOW, I'M JUST SAYING IT ALL SEEMS A LITTLE BIT SHOWY, IS ALL.

Like the whole magic act and the art of misdirection is a REALLY big part of the season, and I'm just SAYING that Aziraphale began the season with his husband and his bookshop, and now he's got neither, and he's being escorted WILLINGLY back to Heaven.

By the angel (is the Metatron an angel or is he something else?) who called Muriel "THE DIM ONE" (which by the way I'm really mad about but that's a post for later) and then within a few minutes was patting them on the head telling them what a good angel they were for reading books now here why don't you come along and bring this independent sanctuary back under Heaven's control. (DON'T THINK I DIDN'T NOTICE THAT SWITCH, METATRON.)

And, maybe, sell a bunch of books (knowledge, power, agency) while you're at it because Muriel probably doesn't even know you're not actually supposed to SELL the books.

The Second Coming is coming, and you've got Aziraphale and Crowley out here doing supreme-archangel-level miracles together. Crowley is powerful enough to access top secret materials. Aziraphale is clever enough to thwart the apocalypse.

And by the end of the season, you've absolutely gutted this powerful free agent who is on nobody's side -- hey maybe now he'll swallow some holy water and be out of everyone's hair -- and you've eliminated the bookshop as a holding ground and you've brought Aziraphale back under Heaven's control.

I'm not saying the WHOLE THING was set up, but... What if the whole thing was set up?! Orchestrated to win Aziraphale's trust back over, and push Crowley so far away he becomes a non-threat? Maybe even easier to eliminate??? Maybe easier for both of them to be eliminated????

Like you're telling me that there just happened to be a neat little folder that Crowley could access, and they just let him see all of it? Because why not? And it just conveniently happened to have all of the things that Gabriel did that somehow no one knew anything about, even though it was all in this folder?

And you're telling me that the archangels who WERE IN A MEETING WITH THE METATRON just SOMEHOW didn't recognize him at all, when Crowley -- who famously "doesn't remember" people (whether that's true or not idk) is the only one who recognizes him???

I'M JUST SAYING, THE LAST EPISODE WAS FUCKING WEIRD OKAY? It was a little too "🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ oh well I guess this is what happened 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️" for my taste.

I cannot believe we have to wait two years at minimum for more of this but I guess that's a lot of time to deconstruct what's going on here, eh??

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 8 - Why Won't It Stop?

A/N: The time travelling may have finished, but the nightmares certainly didn't. Set after Part III.

The first night back in his own bed was pure hell.

Considering that the night he spent at the lake with Jennifer was peaceful, he was extremely unnerved to find himself almost tumbling out of the bed, placing a hand over his mouth to stop him from awakening the house with his screams.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He couldn't stop himself checking his calendar each time he jolted awake, just in case he'd somehow done another trip to the past in his sleep. Marty desperately wished Doc was still around to provide some insight, even though he wasn't a medical doctor. But he would have more idea of what the hell is going on than I do.

What also troubled him was that every night seemed to produce some new horror.

Sometimes Tannen was successful in hanging him, and he would watch his deceased body tumble to the ground as Doc roared with anguish. Other times Doc was the one being hung, and Marty was forced to watch the life leave his eyes while struggling in the grip of Tannen's goons.

Some nights it was being trapped underneath his seventeen-year-old mother as she excitedly kissed him. She would moan his name and keep his arms pinned below him as they made out in the white Packard. Sometimes he would see his dad standing behind her, glaring at him while his mother caressed his face.

That was the only one that always made him vomit. He'd learnt to keep a rubbish bin near his bed that he could grab in case those unholy images greeted him during the night.

Occasionally the Delorean would fail to reach the target point, and instead of travelling back to 1985, he would watch himself crumpling into the wall of the cinema.

After the first six weeks he seriously began considering the notion that he would have to tell his parents. Although they hadn't asked any prying questions so far, it was clear to him that they had noticed he wasn't sleeping well. He would retire early in the evening, only to be rudely awoken by his brain at around midnight, and often didn't fall asleep again until the early hours of the morning.

His dad had once pointed out the dark circles under his eyes, and that had hit a little too close to home for Marty's liking.

It's not like I fought in a war or anything either! All I did was go back in time.

I mean, I did get shot at. And punched. And hung. And nearly erased from existence.

He eventually did enough snooping through psychology textbooks at the library to work out that he had some form of traumatic disorder, though that became the extent of his mental health knowledge as the terminology grew longer than ten letters. The obvious problem, however, was that he couldn't go seeking an official diagnosis, as he knew they would have him in the mental asylum by the end of the first appointment. Right. So getting official help is definitely not an option.

He spent about a weeks' worth of sleepless nights pondering if he even should begin to approach the subject with his parents. How the hell am I supposed to say it? Hey mom and dad, I'm the guy who made you guys fall in love 'cause Doc invented a time machine?

Ultimately, the more he thought about it, the more he decided that he couldn't tell them. He was now the sole reason that they had even laid eyes on each other; if he hadn't dragged George to meet Lorraine face to face, he would've had no reason to seek her out or take her to the dance. What if it breaks something in the space time continuum? What if they disown me? What if I fade out of existence or some shit?

Although he had no concrete scientific reasons why he couldn't tell them, he'd come to a very simple realisation: they would never believe him. Considering that there were no photos of him from when he was Calvin Klein (that he was aware of), and how much time had passed for them since they last saw 'Calvin', he was pretty convinced that they'd dismiss his story. Perhaps it's best this way anyway. They've finally got a happy marriage and I don't want to risk derailing it.

He came to the ultimate realisation that he had to tell Jennifer. After all, he was already planning how he was going to propose - she deserved to know what had happened to the man she loved. The other part of him felt that she shouldn't have to know. If he couldn't handle the memories of what he'd gone through, how did he know she could?

But on their next trip to the lake, Marty decided he couldn't bear it alone any longer; eighteen weeks of insufficient sleep had finally wore him down. She has to know.

When they were tucked up in their sleeping bags under the stars, he swallowed hard and whispered cautiously into the darkness. "Jen?"

Jennifer shifted slightly. "Marty?" When he didn't answer, she rolled over in her sleeping bag, noticing how Marty was avoiding her gaze. "Is everything alright?"

"…I think I have a problem," His voice shook as he whispered, his eyes welling with tears, "and I…I don't know what to do."

Jennifer gazed at Marty with concerned eyes. She gave him a small smile in the darkness, stretching her hand out to cup his cheek and turn his face towards her. "Oh, Marty…I was wondering when you'd finally tell me."

She leaned over to give him a gentle kiss, and Marty allowed the last of his resolve to crumble as he cried. Jennifer pushed herself out of her sleeping bag to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, stroking his hair soothingly as he cried in her embrace. "It'll get better, Marty. It will."

[beardedmrbean]

Wait

The Native Americans are fighting against the wokies?

It not surprising because how problematic they see things as. Fuck the recent Predator movie Prey did more to preserve the Comanche language it’s was also fully dub into it

But seriously I seen it in black media, notice how 95% of black media only focus on blm stuff or how many black historical figures are often erased by white wokies? Like black peopke can’t thrive in capitalism…please ignore that restaurant owner that inspire the Disney Princess Tiana

But back to the natives, yeah they would attack you guys. The left can barely understand Japanese POP CULTURE much as native historical stuff.

Good luck natives…tbh I think I know more about the Iroquois playing via playing a fictional historical game more than what leftist learn about native Americans in college.

But seriously I seen it in black media, notice how 95% of black media only focus on blm stuff or how many black historical figures are often erased by white wokies? Like black peopke can’t thrive in capitalism…please ignore that restaurant owner that inspire the Disney Princess Tiana

Admittedly it got shit on pretty hard in the Tulsa Race Riots, but "black wall street" was a thing and there were many thriving former slaves and children of former slaves at that point. Would have been nice if they'd managed to rebuild I will admit the cards were not just stacked against them, there was bulldozers pushing those cards too, few still managed.

Would have been nice if they could have been more able to defend themselves properly, trying to find NRA activity for southern Black folks post reconstruction/Jim crow era not much popping up other than.

Begin Tangent

This guy who just popped on to my radar.

Born in North Carolina in 1925, Williams’ experience mirrors that of many African-Americans of his generation. He moved to Detroit as part of the Second Great Migration, where he was privy to race rioting over jobs. He served in the then-segregated United States Marine Corps for a year and a half after being drafted in 1944. Upon returning to his North Carolina hometown, Williams found a moribund chapter of the NAACP. With only six members and little opposition, he used his USMC training to commandeer the local branch and turn it in a decidedly more military direction. The local chapter soon had over 200 members under Williams’ leadership. If nothing else, his leadership was effective at building the movement from the ground up.

An early incident is particularly instructive in how effective these new tactics were. The KKK was very active in Monroe, with an estimated 7,500 members in a town of 12,000. After hearing rumors that the Klan intended to attack NAACP chapter Vice President Dr. Albert Perry’s house, Williams and members of the Black Armed Guard surrounded the doctor’s house with sandbags and showed up with rifles. Klansman fired on the house from a moving vehicle and the Guard returned fire. Soon after, the Klan required a special permit from the city’s police chief to meet. One incident of self-defense did more to move the goalposts than all previous legislative pressure had.

Monroe’s Black Armed Guard wasn’t a subsidiary of the Communist Party, nor an independent organization like the Black Panther Party that would use similar tactics of arming their members later. In fact, “Black Armed Guard” was nothing more than a fancy name for an officially chartered National Rifle Association chapter.

He got a bit more militant later on, I will blame a good deal of that on the fbi doing what the fbi did to black people that stood up for other black people. Not gonna call him a hero just yet because I haven't looked far enough into him to have a full picture, but this stuff is pretty damn heroic. Remember gun control has frequently been used as a tool to keep minorities in check, and will continue to be used as so until more people put their foot down.

End tangent __________________

Ya we went over this before with Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben among others, removing minority representation in order to not offend white leftists who will just find something else to be offended about anyhow so just please ignore them and ask the people you're supposedly doing it for, I will say I'm glad that the "latinx" debate is over, only took most of Latin America and the royal Spanish society both saying it's stupid and insulting to get it killed.

Also don't try to turn it around on white people because

_____________________

We eat this shit up, fighting whites one went on sale, sold out really fast and the money went to a scholarship program for indigenous students I think, it's in the link and they should make them again if you ask me.

[countessofravenclaw]

Like the Red Rose blooms in the Oxford Garden: Chapter four

Sometimes when your heart breaks… it feels like there is no way to fix it. No matter what you try. All the memories get left behind as something unfinished… But maybe, there is to way to fix it, A second chance. Some way to finish the story you two started writing because it was never the end, but just a part of the story… even if you have to travel far to achieve it.

I just wanna open up your eyes. And make you realize

Nina pushed the unorthodoxly heavy door of the stairwell open and stepped onto a hallway. It was pretty early, she had not been able to sleep so she decided to go exploring. The campus was huge and just the dorms were a huge maze. It was surprising that no one had made a phone app where you could have a map.

She looked around the hallway she had just entered. It was clearly part of the renovated area, even if she had no idea how far she was from her own room. 

The hallway didn’t look like a dorm hallway. It looked like the doors led to some conference rooms or something. There were some photographs on the other wall. Under them was a plack that had some text on it. 

Nina walked closer to it and started reading it. It was talking about some monument significant construction project that was done by former alumnies of the University. Four engineering majors from different fields had banded together and started their own company… Maybe that was what Gastón would be doing after he graduated—

Nina shook her head. Why was she still thinking about him? She had to stop… even if everything had gotten a hundred times more harder. The real reason why she had not been sleeping had been that she had been replaying the conversation they had had the other day in her head…

…thinking about the feeling of his lips on her skin, even if it had just been a small cheek kiss. Just a small polite gesture from their culture, nothing more. They had relegated themselves to this polite friendship and he didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

Nina had blurted that friendship thing out in a small internal panic, in order to delude the awkwardness that had been looming over them. She wasn’t sure what else she would have been supposed to say. She had no idea how much Marlee and Ariana, or any other of Gastón’s friends, knew about his ex-girlfriend or how they’d react to it being her. 

The whole situation was so complicated… why was love this hard? 

“Nina? What are you doing here?” She jumped from the sudden voice that came from behind her. “It is 7:15.”

Nina turned around and she was so rapidly looking for the voice that she dropped her bag. 

“Over here. Did I scare you?” She finally turned enough around to see Gastón standing close to the end of the hallway. He walked forward to her and picked her bag off the ground.

“Little bit… I didn’t know there was anyone here.” Nina took her bag from him, “What are you doing here?”

“I go to the gym in the mornings. There is small one over here.” He gestured towards the door at the end of the hallway, “But they apparently removed the sign… Hmm, don’t know what that’s about.”

“You— go to the gym?” Nina realized too late that her words came out as a stumbling mess. She had been too focused on erasing the image from her mind. She really hoped he had not seen her face or the fact that her eyes automatically had focused on his arms, which unfortunately were covered by a long-sleeved shirt.

What was with her? She had seen him shirtless enough times not to get that flustered over that… and just thought of him working out made her feel things she hadn’t been feeling in months. 

“Couple times in a week, depends really. Only cardio and lifting mostly to keep in shape since I don’t exactly skate anymore.” Nina was not sure if Gastón had noticed her staring, but had or not he still kept talking, “It helps to keep up a routine and helps me think. But you did not answer my question. I don’t think you were looking for the gym.”

“No, or course not,” Nina snapped back into the moment. “I didn’t really sleep well, so I decided to do little exploring and I think I got lost. I am not sure how I ended up here, exactly.” Her phone dinged and she pulled it out of her bag, “Sorry, one second… Marlee asks me to come to the study hall lambda… now I just need to find my way there…”

“I’ll show you.” Gastón said while looking at his own phone. “We have a group chat and Marlee told us all to go there. We’ll need to go through our room so I can drop my bag off.”

“Sure.” Nina nodded and followed him to the stairwell door and went through the door he was holding open for her. 

“Speaking of skating,” Gastón started as they were descending the spiral staircase that pretty much felt never-ending. “I watched the River Live festival.”

“You did?”

“Yep, Matteo sent me the link to it. It looked incredible.” Nina was happy to notice that the awkwardness seemed to pretty much be gone. Maybe it was because Gastón was totally fine with being friends. “It was great to see you out there as well.”

“Well, Luna put me on a boot camp,” Nina responded, “It went alright I guess… but it wasn’t something that felt very natural to me. Not like you all.”

“Didn’t look like it. Everyone must have been so proud of you…” Gastón’s voice trailed off for a second, “Uhm… I talked with Matteo, and he told me that you and Eric are not together anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Nina nodded. She had not been expecting that Matteo would have kept that from Gastón after her presence at Oxford had been revealed. 

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” Nina shook her head, “It was the right thing to do… it just wasn’t working. It was a whole mess honestly. He… didn’t really take it well. He tried to make me stay by telling me that he loved me.” She blurted out.

“Autch,” Gastón reacted. Nina could tell from his face that he disapproved.

“I have no idea what he is thinking right now and I don’t think I want to know,” She continued, “We haven’t spoken since and I honestly do not know what I would say to him. We we’re clearly not on the same page about the relationship… it was my fault. I never should have gotten him involved.”

“You did what you thought was right.” Nina felt his hand land on her shoulder briefly. It sent shivers down her spine, no matter how casual the touch was. “If he loved you, he would respect your decisions.”

“Yeah,” Nina sighed. Something about his voice was still so reassuring. It still managed to make her feel better about herself. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“You’re right,” Gastón stopped in front of a door that had α5 written on it. He held it open for her and then followed her into the hallway. The hallway appeared to be normal dorm hallway. Nina followed Gastón as they turned at least ten different corners. “So what do you think about Professor Sauylar? I took one elective literature class last year and she taught it.” 

“Well, I only have had couple lectures but everything she has talked about has been so intriguing…” Nina continued before remembering something, “I have been meaning to go to explore the library at some point. Ariana showed me around a little bit last week, but I wanna see the whole library, but I think I will probably get lost… Ariana said that she knew a person who could show me around better than she can. She meant you right?”

“Yes, I am sure she did.” Gastón laughed. “Jacob an Oliver prefer E-books, Marlee makes so many notes on the books that she often just buys if she needs something and James only comes with me occasionally. I can totally show you around there. It is amazing and you really can get lost there. I mean it is not the Blake library, but we’ll make due.” He kept joking.

Nina was not sure if he was doing this on purpose. She really hoped she was not blushing again, because just the mention of the Blake library brought to her mind all the moments they had shared there. Or there was just something wrong with her mind, but the small daring smile on his lips made her mind blank at least twice.

“I’ll just grab my bag real quick,” they stopped in front of a door that had the number 267. Nina realized that they were approximately two floors down from her room. It was official, the roomnumbers made no sense. She watched as Gastón opened the door and went inside. 

Nina stood outside the door feeling a bit awkward. She walked tad bit forward and peeked in the room. The layout wise it looked almost identical to hers, except that it was mirrored, with two beds being on the left side. It also look quite tidy… which should have not surprised her since she knew Gastón… but she did not know Jacob or Oliver. Gastón seemed to look up for a moment and Nina quickly pretended that she had not been looking. 

She did not know why she felt so nervous being so close to the place he slept at. She had been his girlfriend and intimate partner for a long time… maybe the past tense there was the answer. It felt unnatural to keep the distance like this or constantly think about what was she allowed to say to him and what not.

Or maybe the problem was that, she had been the first… and she had no idea how many or who had come after her. That was something she was sure that, even if she would have asked, Matteo wouldn’t have had the heart to tell her. Not that she was entitled to that knowledge, but just thinking about the possibility broke her heart. That was not technically fair at all since she had been with Eric after all, even if they had barely ever done anything. 

Oh goodness sake! No one had even said that Gastón was single. She had only seen him couple of times at Oxford, and never with anyone else, but that did not mean there weren’t other times where he could have been seeing people. Who said he did not have a girlfriend whom he had met on his classes?

If you applied all the logic to the equation, it was more likely than not that Gastón was seeing someone. Who wouldn’t want him? Nina knew all the reason why someone would want to be with him. 

“Okay, lets go.” Gastón closed the door. He was carrying a blue backbag that looked oddly familiar to Nina.

“Is that the same one you had at Blake?”

“Yeah, actually,” Gastón answered as they started walking again. “It still in one piece and those messenger bags are extremely unergonomic, so I took it to use again. Do you still have the green one?”

Nina a shot her gaze up as he mentioned the back bag, she had stolen from him when they had started dating. She didn’t think he would have remembered it. “Uhm… yes I do, at Buenos Aires that is. I didn’t take it here. I know I stole it and I did think about returning it, but I didn’t know how to do it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gastón just shook his head, “You can have it. There are worse things you have stolen from me.”

Nina was left wondering what on earth he meant by then when they rounded the corner, and they suddenly were at the study hall. The entrance they had taken was not the one she had used the other times she had been at the study hall. 

“I found her at the top floor of the sigma wing.” Nina started walking after Gastón towards the opposite corner of the hall where she saw that Marlee and Ariana were talking with three guys. One of them was as tall as Gastón and had dark skin, other had red hair, the third one was pretty pale with brown extremely short hair. He also had an earring. 

“What were you doing there?” Ariana asked as Nina came up to them. She very quickly noticed that the guys were looking at Gastón a little bit longer than you usually looked at someone when arriving and kept glancing at her. “There are reception dead-zones here, you can actually get really lost.”

“Well, I did kind of got lost.”

“Anyways, now that you are here,” Marlee started speaking addressing the other guys “most of you have not met each other yet. Guys, this is our new roommate Nina Simonetti. She comes all the way from Argentina.”

“She is a freshman, so be nice to her.” Ariana put her hand on Nina's shoulder. “These are the people we somehow tolerate in our everyday life. Oliver Carson,” She pointed to the red-haired guy, “someone who does not know how to draw a straight line. James Wilson and Marlee told me you already met Gastón… how do you say it again?”

“Perida, it is not that hard,” Gastón rolled his eyes, while avoiding eye contact with Nina.

“Sure.” Marlee responded, “James and Gastón are our brainiacs from the science and technology faculty. And then finally, that is Corncop.” Marlee pointed to the guy with the earring. Who made very not amused face.

“Don’t listen to Marlee. Jacob Tomas.” he spoke before shooting Marlee and playfully murderous glare. That was clearly some kind of joke between them. 

“We’re the so called singles club at Oxford,” Ariana remarked, “Even if some of us wouldn’t need to be.” Nina was sure she was looking at Gastón while saying it. So Gastón was single? But what did “not needing to be” meant?

“Well nice to meet you Nina,” Oliver started to speak, “but I think we are all soon late to class. See you around.”

“We’ll be adding her to the chat and not listening objections,” Marlee said before the guys started to scatter. 

***

“I am not exacarating,” Gastón said to Matteo who was on the other side of his phone screen. Gastón had slipped from the group after lunch because he needed to give Matteo a status update, plus to blow off some steam. “She just wants to be friends, and I am fine with it.”

“You sure look fine,” Matteo’s face told him that he was not buying it, and the truth was that he should not be buying it. 

Obviously, Gastón was not fine with it, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that. But that was what Nina wanted, so he had to respect it. So, he needed to scarp more on it. Only this morning he had already slipped on the shoulder. He had managed to stop himself before he had moved his hand closer to the back of her neck and grabbed a piece of her hair like he often had done. It was not the easiest thing to fight against your natural instincts. How did she manage to be so cute when startled.

Only thing he wanted was to be close to her. The feelings, everything he felt for her had come rushing back so fast… maybe because they never had been gone in the first place. 

“I am literally quoting: “This should not be awkward, we are friends.” Do I need to show you a recording for you to believe me?” Gastón shook his head, “What did you want me to say? Thats what she wants, and I am accepting it. We talked this morning, it was completely normal.”

“So you talked, did you?” Matteo still had that annoying smug smirk on his face. 

“Yes, we did. You know that I work out on the mornings. I ran into her at the wing, which is pretty far, and she had gotten lost.”

“So she just happened to be lurking outside of your gym,” Matteo remarked skeptically. Gastón wanted to snark something back, but honestly he had kind of been wondering the same, but he was sure he had just imagined the change in her impression after mentioning working out. “These coincidences really just keep being coincidences.”

“She was lost. This place is a maze.” Gastón shook his head.

“So, what did you talk about?”

“Nothing special, a little bit about everything. You know, what she had been up to in Buenos Aires, like that Eric guy.” A sour taste appeared in his mouth with saying that name.

“So, she told you about that?” Matteo seemed to get excited. “You can’t make things up anymore. You did realize that she specifically told you that she is single?”

“She didn’t bring it up,” Gastón huffed, “I did. She deserves to know that you told me.” He leaned back against his bed’s headboard. Thinking about that Eric guy made his blood boil, “What kind of person tries to guilt-trip someone to bend to their own will by telling them they love them?”

“Oh, so she told you about that?” Matteo had an amused expression on his face, “Honestly, I never really like that Eric guy. I don’t think you would have either.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.” Gastón said through his teeth. Nina deserved the world.

“See?” Matteo’s smile suddenly grew wider than the Cheshire cat, “How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna punch him.” Gastón stated. 

“I didn’t mean that.” Matteo shook his head, “You are getting this riled up about the guy Nina dated disrespecting her, but you are still trying to tell me that you are fine being her friend.”

“Yes, of course I am.” If only Matteo wouldn’t be so good a reading him. “We have been friends before—”

“Hey, Gastón—” The door opened and Jacob, Oliver and James came in. Gastón signaled them that he was on the phone. 

“When have you been friends?” Matteo continued, “If we look at the time line backwards here for a second… you started talking to her and the literally the next day you were complaining to me about how you were confused about two girls. You have always been crazy about her, and that’s why you started liking the freaking Felicity in the first place, because that was how she was expressing herself. I had the first row seat to this show, and I know you. You would have fallen for her anyway.”

“I have no other option.” Gastón sighed, “I can’t just hoist myself on her. She does not deserve it.”

“What if what she deserves… is you?”

“We’ve been over this…”

“I can see I am not getting through to you right now,” Matteo huffed, “especially with an audience.” 

“You do know they can’t understand, right?” Gastón looked up on the other guys. “Talk to you later.”

“I can’t even start to comprehend what you possibly could have been talking about,” James remarked after Gastón hung up on Matteo

“All kinds of things,” Gastón noted dryly. “You know, there is things I don’t tell you.”

“We know that already,” Oliver leaned back on his bed, “So, from one topic to another, what do you think about Marlee and Ariana’s new roommate?”

“She seems nice.” Jacob nodded while typing away on his computer. 

“Yeah, I agree,” James nodded and turned his gaze toward Gastón. “You?”

“Yeah, she seems alright.” Gastón tried to keep his face expressionless as possible. 

“Just alright?” James kept asking, “So, you didn’t think she was cute?”

“Uh, why are you asking?” Gastón got caught completely off guard by that question. 

“I don’t know, just looked like you were getting along quite well when you came to the hall,” James stated nonchalantly. “Marlee said you had already met… how did that happen?”

“I accidently ran into her and Marlee on the first day.” Gastón tried to sound as casual as possible, “Like I said, about today, she was lost. And you have no idea what we were talking about. It was nothing special. Do you know how exhausting it can be needing to use language not your own in everyday communication? Sometime speaking Spanish is just relaxing.” 

“It is quite a coincidence that she is also from Buenos Aires, isn’t it?” Oliver had also turned his head towards Gastón.

“What are you getting at?”

“I don’t know, just saying,” Oliver shrugged his shoulders, “Ariana told me little more about her, because I was curious. She is a literature major, likes books and reading. Apparently writes. Seems pretty sensitive. Maybe little shy, but give it a month in Marlee and Ariana’s hands and she’ll need to start opening up. There even is no language barrier. Gastón, you should ask her out.”

Gastón hoped his face was not showing the pure panic and… everything else he was feeling. If they only knew… he half considered just blurting out the truth here and now… but no idea how they would react. It would make the things harder.

“Why an I the only one getting an intervention about needing to ask someone out,” he finally settled on saying. “As far as I know, you three are also single. Why aren’t you focusing on that?”

“Because we are not having an emotional block about all of this.” James crossed his arms. “Girlfriend would be nice, but you refuse the mere idea of it.”

“We are not psychologists, but you do realize what is holding you back, right?” Jacob had turned back from his computers.

“I honestly don’t anymore.”

“We know you loved her, your ex, but she’s in Buenos Aires, you are here. Unless you are planning on going on like this for four years and then trying to get her back after that, when it will be too late, might I add, there is no point to this. We’re saying this because we care about you.”

“This isn’t about that,” Gastón tried to answer.

“Then what is it about?” Oliver questioned again. “Your excuses don’t work anymore. You have good opportunity here, with Nina. You should at least try. Ask her out. What do you have to lose?”

“No entiendes...”

“You don’t have to marry her.” James continued. The word made Gastón freeze for a moment… it had crossed his mind more than once. It was always said that 18-year-olds shoudl not be thinking of marriage, but he had always seen a future like that with Nina. Well, untill... “You can tell her you’re not looking anything that serious, but mate, you need to put yourself out there again. When was the last time you went on a date? A year ago? You never know what might happen.”

“Plus getting laid would do you some good.”

“Thank you for that assessment, Jacob.” Gastón remarked sarcastically.

{}

Okay, so this chapter may seem like it ends bit abruptly. That is because I had to split it up, because it was getting too long. You also might have already noticed that I am not trying to dance around the NSFW subject as much as in my other fics. There will be no explicit or mature content but this is T-rated, everyone is a consenting adult and they are in college. We are not at Disney anymore.

Additional note: This will in no way shape or form be an accurate representation of what it is like to study at Oxford. I don't study there and there is only so much research you can do. Plus if I'd try to keep things 100 % accurate, the story would suffer, and the story itself is not all about Oxford or their studies. That being said, if you are a student at Oxford and reading this… I am so sorry.

[gohar-adventures]

The Eye of the Beholder

Harambe is speaking with everyone in the Dragon Skull Manor very early in the morning, following the Gralhund Villa bloodbath.

No one trusts this man, who was previously in the service of the Gralhunds. Hollycover proposes Zone of Truth to discuss more. Everyone except Argan and -3- is under the spell's effects.

"Duke Gralhund asked me to spare them from a horrible death, at the hands of someone much meaner than I am."

Assad: "The kids as well?"

Harambe nodded, shameful, and explained that he came to the manor running from the City Guard. He left as they were arriving to the villa and mentions coming across one of our enemies(?). He pulled out a black parchment.

Holly unrolled the parchment, and written in silver ink:

Xander recognized materiel to mean a magical reagent because of his background.

Given the drow who attacked in the villa, I recognized the J as Jarlaxle, the leader of the mercenary band Bregan D'aerthe.

Holly: "Will you attack us?"

Harambe: "Are you asking me if I have honor? I haven't drawn my sword, have I?"

Xander seems to have taken quite the liking to Harambe and was flirting aggressively, as he does.

Some aggressive knocking at the door interrupts the conversation. Xander goes upstairs with Harambe to show him the rooms and hide.

Assad opened the door and spots Mirt walking back toward his carriage.

"Finally! Come on! The guard is coming!"

I yelled loudly that we were going on a field trip. All of us together! Xander brought down Harambe.

Mirt stared at Harambe and shook his head at all of us. "How did you mess this up so badly?"

"A story for later," demurred -3-.

All of us rushed into the carriage with whatever we could grab on short notice. Assad forgot his rune scroll that he'd been studying, and Holly forgot her armbands.

Mirt erased our tracks from the snowy ground and got in the carriage, still shaking his head. "You brought the smoking gun with you."

As we left the alley, we saw 2 carriages head toward the manor from the East. Barnabas Blastwind and Saeth Cromley from the City Guard step out of the carriages.

Mirt's driver was taking us on a circumventing route to wherever we were going, so I showed the note from Jarlaxle to Mirt.

Poor Mirt looked even more tired but mentioned that he was aware of the location, near the shore. It burned down from an explosion a year ago, though.

Xander missed an Arcana check for more information.

The entire ride, Harambe's eyes were on Mirt and his hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword. Upon seeing that Mirt knew a bit about the drow, though, he brought a stone out of his pocket, saying "The drow also had this."

Xander was getting ready to cast Identify on it, but Mirt asked him to hold off.

Leaving the carriage we see a humble house with lights on inside and a bench outside. Someone keeping a lookout despite the snow looks up at Mirt and remains at ease.

Nat 20 to figure out where we are.

Despite all the twists and turns, I could tell we were somewhere north in the Trades Ward, near the City of the Dead and the Hospice of St. Laupsenn.

It was about 7 AM now and there was an older lady waiting inside the house with some breakfast for 6 people. She hadn't accounted for Harambe (and neither had we).

I sat down for coffee, while others took food. Mirt stood still for a second. "So, Xanathar, the Zhentarim and now Jarlaxle... Ugh."

Xander identified the stone Harambe had found as a Sending Stone, though he made Harambe hold the stone for the entire 10 minutes that the casting took, and kept flirting with him after.

Mirt: "Stay here for a while. If you need to leave, tell Mrs. White to find the backdoor."

Mrs. White: "If you need anything else, I'll be upstairs."

Assad mentioned that a lead box could prevent a Sending Stone from being traced and Xander asked whether Mrs. White could find one for us.

After a few hours, there was a knock on the door and Mrs. White, who hadn't made a peep since going upstairs after promising to look into the box came down to check on the door. She brought back a rectangular box wrapped in cloth and the newspaper.

I picked up the newspaper. There were reports of the Gralhund Villa bloodbath and how even the children had been murdered. The article warned that the Guard believed the perpetrators were still at large and that citizens should remain home at night. I passed the paper over to -3- after reading.

-3- looked over at Holly. "Why are we running?"

Holly mentioned we could get a lot of people in trouble, but -3- was not convinced. Why were we following what Mirt said? We hadn't done anything wrong.

Argan tried explaining that we had broken quite a few laws going into the villa and attacking people even if we hadn't started the fight, but I guess it's hard enough explaining illogical laws to people, let alone a construct.

Using Felix, we sent out a note to the kids to let them know we'll be away from the manor for a while and I snuck in a note for Nat: We're near the City of the Dead.

Felix came back just fine after a while, but without any messages.

2 days go by, with Mrs. White only coming down for meals and to answer the door. The food is fine.

The next newspaper mentioned that the City Guard had been cracking down on the Zhentarim and that those responsible for the bloodbath would be apprehended soon.

After not hearing anything for a few days, we were starting to get restless. Xander sent out a message to Mirt using a paper bird and sent Felix to trail it. He came back too soon, though, telling Xander that some nice gentlemen offered him treats and played with him.

-3- (in Undercommon, at Holly): "I hope we don't have to kill Mrs. White."

The group sent me to have a look at Mrs. White's room. Xander cast invisibility on me and called down Mrs. White. Argan distracted her with singing while I picked the lock to go into the room.

It was pitch black inside and there was a smell of lilacs. The windows were boarded up but everything else looked pretty normal. The bed seemed odd and looking under it, there was a maroon stain on the floor.

Doing one last pass around the room, I found a stone similar to the Sending Stone Harambe had brought and a dagger inside the pillow. Leaving the dagger and straightening up the room, I got out and locked the door.

I waited in our room for a while, but no one came up, so carefully went downstairs and got Xander, whispering we should meet up in the bathroom.

Mrs. White asked where I was while Xander was in the bathroom and Argan mentioned I should be in the room. She went back upstairs saying something about "being done here."

Xander put the 2 stones in the lead box. We all booked it out of there, grabbing our things, and just leaving through the front door. Although the lookout was very confused to see us go, he didn't stop us. We saw him heading inside as we left.

We agreed to meet up in 2 hours at the Hospice of St. Laupsenn. I stopped by the City of the Dead to check if the kids were around, but nothing interesting happened.

I passed a newspaper boy calling out that the City Guard got the Zhentarim on the way to meet with the rest.

Mother Margot greeted -3- and Holly and told Holly they had not had anything to do with what had been going out. No fights had broken out in the city and no one had sought sanctuary, but the river had supposedly run red with blood.

-3- told the group we shouldn't stay here for too long.

Argan, Xander, and Assad head toward the market to try and get some information by using the Sending Stones. Xander figured out they were not connected to each other, but they both connected to the same stone.

Argan turned himself invisible and flew up to one of the roofs. Activating the stone, he mentioned "They got away. What do I do now?"

Jarlaxle responded, saying he could see Argan's companions and the boys lost all their ability to be chill. Argan left the stone with Xander and scurried back to the Hospice to get the rest of us.

In the hospice, -3- and Holly went downstairs to help with the patients and see if they could get more information as to what had been happening over the past few days. I posted up in the main room to keep an eye on folks who came and went.

A nurse who Holly did not recognize had been staring at -3- and Holly so she went up to her to find out more. She was very nervous and asked to speak in front of Mother Margat. The three of them go speak to her and she takes them to Father Giuseppe's old rooms.

The nurse, Sylvia, mentioned that there had been 2 fellows that had come in the week before with an eye tattoo and that the nurses had taken care of them even though they were pretty scary. She had overheard them talking about something strange in the South Ward: a Sweets Shop with an eye theme.

Sylvia used to work in the South Ward before and had seen a few people who went into the shop and never came out. But there were screams.

We met up in the Dripping Dagger where Xander investigated the Stone of Golorr. It will need all 3 eyes to work properly, but something might happen with just the 1 eye that we have.

Xander attuned to the Stone and the aboleth growled and insulted him.

Xander: "What are you?"

The aboleth showed him a floating city, a vault, lots of people. Death all around, falling, feeling lost for hundreds of years. Being found again, in Waterdeep. A face: lord Dagult Neverember. A psychic burst, then nothing.

Xander could tell that there is missing information, but the aboleth is not purposefully hiding anything. "What do you want?"

"Freedom." The aboleth granted Xander the Light and Darkness spells, calling them a gift.

When asked, "How can we help?" the aboleth showed Xander a barrage of images: a man burying silver in the yard of a tavern somewhere in Waterdeep, a group of cultists performing a ritual to create a hell cyst, different races invading each other.

Suddenly Xander saw an old woman with very small glasses who seemed to be looking directly at him, speaking: "Oh, you're back. Good to have you back. I made money off you once. I'll do it again."

Xander felt unsafe and broke the connection. It seems like the Stone has the power to make everyone or a very large group of people forget a piece of information. We can't use it to find the other eyes.

We arranged for Argan to send a message to Three Strings when he went to his shift in the Yawning Portal: "Thanks for your hospitality. Unfortunately, there was something wrong with the room and we had to go."

The owner of the shitty tavern where we stayed knocked on the door at 3 AM, letting -3- know that there was a visitor. -3-, Holly, and I went downstairs to find a teenage boy who said he had a message from the harp and handed -3- a harper pin.

"That was not the plan. I hope you're safe. Mrs. White is dead. I'm sorry we were compromised."

It looks like Mrs. White's body was hidden under the floorboards and that's what caused the stain.

-3- hands the pin back to the boy and sends him back with a message: "Send word when it's safe to go home."

That same night, Xander dreams of his past and remembers him. He misses him. He's within reach.

[sweetandsoursaws]

Lark was aware how fucking stupid it was to really physically run from his problems. That didn't stop him from running until he could barely breathe, then flopping down in the grass to catch his breath.

After a minute of heaving breaths while his vision twirled, Lark ran his claws down his unfeeling metal skull, hissing and then covering his eyes. "Oh my GOD just be normal for TWO FUCKING SECONDS! Just be normal! Why! Are you like this!" Hands smacked into his head as gently as he could convince himself to be. He knows better than to treat his body that way.

Finally, he gave a big stupid yell until his voice cracked and died, and finally he dropped his arms to the ground at his sides, shutting his eyes. Well, one eye. The other one can't close all the way, and stared through the smog at the dark sky above him. Blades of grass tickled him in places it could reach his skin through the fur. Despite the sun having set, summer in Newark was a balmy 75f at night, and it weighed heavily on him like he was buried in sand. Or maybe that was just the exhaustion. From running.

Just be normal. Lark ran his tongue over the exposed teeth one side of his face. He doesn't get to be normal anymore. He hasn't been normal for a long time. He used to be able to keep it all wrapped up and distant, but now he just felt fucking fragile, like his synthetic skin that was wearing away every day.

He felt fucking stupid. Months of hiding himself from everyone he knew, afraid of their reactions to his new appearance, and they barely bat an eye. Something that made his heart soar at first, but the self-defeating part of him yelled that he was visibly falling apart and nobody cared. Find a way to spin everything to the negative; surely that's how others see it, and of course HE sees it that way. His gut clenched as it reran every word of his conversation with Devang. She was dealing with shit, and he just steamrolled in and stepped all over it. Made light of shit that was important to her. Gave her some fucked up weed, threatened her with catnip???

And yet, after making a full nuisance of himself...fuck, she probably wasn't even being nice. She was just putting up with him. Also, way to make it all about you! Lark sighed and tapped his fingers against his temples, willing himself to stop rerunning it. He was just so happy to "connect" with somebody, but the moment that thought hit, his guts got all twisted up and he couldn't fucking function anymore. Just. Act. Normal.

If you act like this, nobody will like you.

Lark exhaled, eyes fully opening to stare up at the sky, letting his lungs sit empty for a while before lazily breathing in again. You act all crazy because you're desperate for connection. When you act crazy nobody wants to be around you. The more desperate you get, the more shit crazy you act, the more likely the rejection is coming, and it's going to hit you hard.

If he yells and kicks and screams, at least he'll know what to expect; punch, get punched back, get withering looks, and curses, and disdain. Nothing is worse than caring so fucking deeply about somebody, only to remember over and over how fucking annoying you are.

The air smells like grass and dirt and asphalt. There are twigs and rocks under his back. The wind is stale and warm and humid, the sky starless, like the city he knows to expect.

Years ago, he made sure nobody would notice he was gone when he died, and he succeeded. Nobody came looking for him. It was pure coincidence Charlie was even able to bring him home. He did it. He made himself as unobtrusive as possible, erased himself from their lives and replaced himself with a better copy. Only to come back the absolute worst version of himself, a monster of his own design, with self inflicted scars and horrible character attributes. This was all his own fault. He literally did this to himself. All of it.

So shut the fuck up.

[hazardsofspikesandnevadeans]

A small Dark Boo shifted as he laid on the couch. He noticed that Kid hadn't returned for so long and he knew that the Guy wasn't on a journey. Something had to be wrong...

His nubs patted against the cushion under him, eyes shifting before he jumped onto the back of the couch to look at the computer in the corner of the room. The rainbow glow making him aware that his 'buddy' was active, if not just on sleep mode. He soon looked toward the camera in the other corner with a frown.

"What's the matter, DB? You seem irritated..."

He knew the turned virus when he heard it, relieved even to see someone had caught his worry.

"I'm worried about Kid, Blue...he should be back by now."

Dark Boostah heard the hum before the camera seemed to nod in agreement.

"I've noticed that too. It doesn't help that he's been without his raw steak for so long either. So that's another worry."

The alternate virus seemed to shift a bit with how that lens looked, making it look like he was looking to the side. Dark Boostah's eyes narrowed before he hopped down from the couch finally, crawling toward the door with little issue.

"That does it then. I'm looking for him."

A different voice caught his attention making him glance back toward the computer screen now. He even seemed to flinch a bit.

"You sure you should do this, Jason? We don't even know if he's, you know...human enough for how long it's been."

The Dark Boo gave a huff as his tail seemed to thrash on the floor at this. Not that he felt it. The issues of his death that caused him to be a ghost, floor bound at that!

"We have to find him, Gza! You know that as well as I do. He housed us, dang it. Without him we would be erased and you know it!"

The once black screen shifted to a large orange mechanical eye of sorts to nearly glare at the small ghost but he knew the Boo was right. Ever since his death that world would've been completely erased...all due to a horrible carnival 'incident' with the poor ghost.

"Alright, alright...just wait a minute and we'll go find him. I swear though if he's turned I'm sending you both to the nearest Save."

Dark Boostah just waved him off at that. He knew otherwise.

~ Kid gave a quiet groan as he was still very much stuck in the ground, the glitched soil having expanded. This wasn't good. He should've been unstuck by now. His mind was foggy but not due to the usual. He was just hungry and with this soil blocking entrance to his inventory he couldn't just reach in and grab even a small piece of dried Fruit wrap.

He could only hear the sound of his stomach past the silence around him otherwise. Had he given up on calling out? Sadly, he did. He gave a huff though as he was just letting his chin rest against his crossed arms. Hell, even his dad had gone quiet.

Kid finally spoke up after giving a stray blade of grass a flick.

"You doing alright, Dad?"

Again, silence. The little Guy gave a frown as he waited, eyes shifting a bit as he was straining to listen to his inner being.

Huh? Oh, yeah...just peachy.

Kid's frown deepened as he knew that tone all too well. Yeah, Fauver wasn't the only one hating this lock down that this illness had pushed on him.

"Someone will come. I just know it..."

He was trying to reassure the soul that was bound to his subconscious. Kid soon perked up as he swore he heard someone calling his name. Two people at that!

He squinted as he swore he knew who those belonged to, well aware that Fauver gave a groan that held the tone of 'oh Kayin, rekill him now'. Kid gave a grimace at the tone but he was more than happy to see someone had come to find him.

"Over here!"

The sight of a certain Dark Boo that was hitching a ride on a Protobot's shoulder was more than welcoming. The two had slowed to a stop just outside the glitched area. They both looked startled about how bad it was before Gza gave a look of disbelief toward Kid.

"DB, Gza! You're the last I expected to see...uh...you might need to call someone. Hank probably not because this is...bad."

"No one data based, that's for sure. Holy circus tents on fire."

Dark Boostah tapped his chin with a nub in thought. Just who could they call? Nearly everyone they knew was data based in one way or another. "I...think I got an idea..."

[little-caeruleum-blog]

LMK/MKR Sun Wukong x Reader Outline

The reader heard about SWK coming back from his journey and grew quiet while the others were celebratingThe Reader is playing with the monkeys at Flower Fruit Mountain

They are playing a game of tag and hide and seek with the monkeys

She recounts the time when she was washed up at the mountain, the first thing the monkeys did was play hide and seek with her

She met MK a few weeks after he was born out of the stone and the two became instant friends

She stops playing with the monkeys and grows sad at the memories of Wukong and her

Five-year-old reader yelling after Wukong when he jumped into the waterfall and cried when he survived

She remembers their first kiss when they were both around 13 years old

Took him months to even return the kiss back

How he left for 7-8 years to train under a Taoist to learn immortality

The two hugged and promised one another to wait for each other

The two dancing after he had managed to erase their names and the monkey's name from the book of death

She sits down on a rock and the other monkeys ask her what was wrong

She reassures them that she was fine, just a bit tired

They leave her alone with her own thoughts as she recounts her and MK's fight before he left for his JTTW

The reader was begging him to stay at the mountain a little longer before he left

MK, now a grown adult, pushes her away and says that if he could become a god, he would take the opportunity

He accuses the Reader of trying to hold him back

The Reader gets angry and says that he has been stuck under a mountain for 500 years

She accuses him of being selfish and how he’s not worthy of her love anymore

The two break up

The reader turns and just yells at him to just leave now

Wukong yells back how he will and won’t be coming back

The reader cries on the rock as she waits for Wukong to come back

Cut to 14 years later, with JTTW coming to an end, and SWK comes back home

SWK comes back to the island and is greeted by his monkey friends and brothers

MK introduces Tripitaka, Pigsy, and Sandy to his monkeys brother

The monkeys host a party inside their cavern for their king and his new friends

SWK notices that the reader is missing and asks one of his generals where she is

They get nervous and try to avoid the questions by giving him more wine

MK gets angry and throws the wine away as he demands to know where the reader is

Guards quickly give in and explains where she is

The reader heard about SWK coming back from his journey and grew quiet while the others were celebrating

A few monkeys notices she was quiet and ran off shortly before SWK came back to their island

The general asked her if she would attend the party but she refuses to go

So they decided to host the pary in hopes of distracting Wukong from noticing

MK gets angry at the reader and was about to throw a temper tantrum, Tripitaka stops him

Tripitaka gently grabs his shoulder and Pigsy tells him to calm down

Trip tells SWK that getting angry will not solve his problems and gives advice

SWK gets embarrassed and apologies to everyone before he leaves the party

The story cuts back to the reader, singing as she gathers water from the river and sings while SWK sneaks up behind her

The reader is washing their hair in the water as they sing Dear Love Across the Seven Seas

“Dear love, across the seven seas./ I hope you find it comforting that you are so far gone from me./ My hands are cold and bare from your lack of touch./ Dear love, across the seven seas./ I hope you can forgive me./ For when I am dead and gone./ Dear love, across the seven seas./ I wish I can see you one last time./ Before the sea swallows you and I whole.”

The reader then prays that SWK would forgive her once she leaves the island

SWK comes out of his hiding place and tackles the reader into the ground, yelling at her

MK comes out of his hiding spots and forcefully turns the reader to face him

The reader gets startled and falls to the ground with him on top of her

MK starts yelling at how he’ll never forgive himself if she ever leaves the island

The reader is shock and stays quiet as he rants/confesses his feelings for her

The reader is silent as she takes in the confession before she kisses MK to silence him and they apologize

She manages to sit up and pull Wukong into a tight hug,forgiving and confessing her love back to him

She pulls away and gives the two kiss one another

[zbeez-outlet]

Hi! I have a request for Jean if you’re up for it. Reader is captured by Marley officers and tortured for answers and when her comrades find her she’s in a pretty bad state and can barely move and she flinches away from everyone, but when Jean tries to touch her she feels safe so he carries her to safety and is trying to be strong for her even though he’s scared and angry because of what they did do her. You can choose if they’re dating at the time or haven’t admitted their feelings yet so maybe that’s when he tells her how he truly feels because he’s scared if losing her. Some angst and fluff :)) hope you like the idea🥰

Flinch

Jean x FemReader

Canon Universe

Pre-Relationship

Concept: See request above!

Summary: It felt like one second you were standing right next to him and the next, just gone. Vanished. Taken. Every moment it takes to track you down is an eternity of uncertainty. Are you safe? Are they hurting you? Are you even alive? Jean doesn't know what to think or how to feel. He's desperate, he's angry, and he's so fucking scared it's hard to breathe. Regret seeps into his nerves because he never got to tell you how he felt, how he feels. He never imagined that finding you would be more of a nightmare than the agony of your disappearance.

Warnings: Angst, allusions to torture, graphic descriptions of injury, panic, blood, violent outbursts, cursing, PTSD, aftermath of torture (If I missed anything, please let me know)

A/N: I was so excited to be working with a new character. I love Levi with all my heart, obviously, but it's been really fun and interesting getting to write with a different character profile. Hope you like it! Check out my profile for more details about the kinds of requests I take and keep an eye out for my inbox to reopen.

Every time Jean lets his mind linger on the day you disappeared from his side, the memory of it warps so absurdly he isn't sure what really happened anymore.

Sometimes all he can imagine is your form, sweet and smiling and warm next to him as the group steps discretely through the bustling streets of Marley as if they belonged there, just popping out of existence from one blink to another. Gone, vanished, like some all powerful being took an eraser and rubbed you from this reality, the only proof you were ever breathing beside him a few rubber shavings on the ground and the horror pulsing in his chest that you're just not there anymore.

Other times, it's far more dramatic. It's you stopping to tie the loose laces on your boot - the ones he always told you to double knot so you wouldn't trip, but you never listened. It's you getting distracted by a colorful vender, separating from the squad in the process, all smiles and innocence and new. It's you getting pulled aside by an officer for a 'random' blood test. It's you screaming and kicking and fighting as you're dragged away into the unforgiving alleyways of Marley.

It's turning around when he realizes your fingers are no longer brushing against his own and your laugh isn't mixing with Sasha's obnoxious squawking and panic building in his throat when you've just faded to nothingness without him noticing.

Jean doesn't remember how it happened exactly, just that it did, and you were taken by the enemy from right under his nose.

Finding you feels impossible. It takes days instead of the few minutes he'd been hoping for, as if he could have spotted you between lit up carts and bustling pedestrians and scold you for wandering off. Instead you're missing for nearly a week, every second of which grates on any hope Jean tries to cling to.

Commander Hange tracks down a possible location, some unassuming warehouse rumored to be a holding station for Eldian prisoners undergoing interrogation.

"We know she's being held for questioning," Hange declares during the debrief on your rescue mission. They hesitate before clarifying, "Her body would have already turned up or she would have been publicly executed as an example if they weren't sure she knew something."

Jean swallows the bile rising in his throat, unsure how to be grateful for this wayward assumption. It tracks, it makes sense, but is it better?

"What if she's told them about us?" Connie asks, wringing his hands nervously under the weight of Jean's glare and bared teeth.

"She wouldn't!"

"She hasn't," Armin confirms with a definitive nod, a painfully hard set to his jaw that has Jean's nerves on edge. "If she had, we'd have been apprehended and taken into custody already. I just...whatever they're doing to get answers out of her isn't working. How far do you think they'll go for what they want?"

Thinking of Pastor Nick, of all of the people the Military Police 'questioned' back on Paradis Island, Jean has to clench his fists to hide the trembling in his fingers. "Too far," is all he can choke out, tears threatening the corners of his eyes.

Everyone is strangely quiet after that, an uneasy amount of fear hovering between them all like fog.

Captain Levi eventually comes up with an infiltration plan that Jean has to practically beg to be a part of, something he's not above doing when your safety is on the line. The team consists of Levi as the obvious apparent leader, Mikasa as their best fighter, Armin for his more extensive medical knowledge - the thought of needing that knowledge causes a fresh wave of agony and anxiety in his chest - and Jean because staying behind simply isn't an option for him.

Connie and Sasha protest, wanting to go along to save you, but they're quickly shot down. Too many people on this mission is an unnecessary risk, according to Levi anyway, and they're already stretched pretty thin with the addition of Jean.

Eren is strangely silent throughout the entire debrief, like he doesn't even care that you've been taken, undergoing any number of tortures just to protect him. It has anger bristling under Jean's skin, the bastard always taking their priority of his titan shifting ass for granted, but Jean's not about to give Captain Levi a reason to hold him back from this mission for his unruly temper.

"Good luck you four." Hange salutes each of them, sharp eyes lingering on Jean in a way that has his heart racing. They smile encouragingly. "Bring her home."

Between the efficient efforts of Levi and Mikasa, getting in quietly is actually pretty easy. There aren't very many guards, and the one's who are patrolling are swiftly knocked unconscious without causing any scenes. The element of surprise is their greatest weapon at the moment, and they have to ensure no one has time to call for backup or they're screwed.

Jean adjusts the scarf around his face, making sure to cover as much as possible while keeping his field of vision clear. It was actually Sasha's idea to cover up, something dramatic about camouflage and anonymity in enemy territory. It made sense at the time, and Jean's not about to complain about keeping their identities hidden, but the sweat sticking to his lip and building at the base of his neck is more bothersome than he thought it'd be.

He and Armin are quick to follow once they spot the hand signal from the Captain that all is clear, heart beating in his throat the closer they are to finding you.

"Check every room, call if you find her. If something is locked, let me know," Captain Levi orders, dangling a set of keys he had swiped from a guard and already heading to the nearest door. The main floor of the warehouse is actually fairly spacious with only a few tucked away rooms - all weirdly unlocked and empty.

Jean grits his teeth, knowing that at the very least something or someone has to be here that can give them more information, otherwise what's even the point of the guards they'd taken down outside?

"Captain!" Armin whisper-yells causing Jean's head to jerk towards him despite not being the one he called for. The blonde's gesturing to a hefty-looking wooden door at the back of the warehouse clearly meant to be hidden in shadow, going practically unnoticed. "It's pad-locked."

It takes three tries for the Captain to find the key to unlock the door, Jean rocking on his heals all the while as anticipation fizzles through his veins. The door leads to the most stereotypically sinister basement Jean would roll his eyes at if he weren't so scared of what they'll find down there, all dark stone and damp draft and strange echoes. The sound of their combined footsteps bounces off the walls like drums, and the cold seeps into Jean's skin like a vice, trying to lock his joints.

There's a long hallway of doors at the base of the stairs, metal instead of wood and with small sliding hatches to view inside.

"Mikasa and I will start at the back. You two take the front." Levi motions everyone to move forward, marching towards the back of the corridor with Mikasa hot on his heals.

Every hatch that Jean slides has his breath catching in his throat, each time expecting to find your still and rotting body beyond the metal. But every time, they're empty. He tries not to linger on the copper smears of something along the walls and floor or the metal shackles laying ominously on the stone ground.

A gasp from Mikasa towards the back of the hallway has Jean nearly choking on air, already skidding towards her when she stumbles back from the hatch she opened, hand covering her mouth and eyes wide in horror. He's never seen her so stunned, facade broken and tears pooling in her eyes, at least not when Eren isn't involved. He watches as she scrambles for the keys in Levi's possession, testing key after key to get into the cell.

"It - it's her...she - she..." Mikasa trails off, uncharacteristic stammer stalling in her throat. Her hands are shaking, and the sight has Jean frozen in his boots.

Captain Levi gently plucks the keys from Mikasa's trembling fingers, shuffling through them much more quickly, with eyes focused and body sharp. Armin is shaking at Jean's side, fingers white-knuckling his sleeves and eyes wide with the same fear Jean can feel pulling at his chest.

Levi gets the cell door open, quickly going in with Mikasa just behind. Jean's feet are stuck, lungs shriveling behind his ribs and flashes of the you that he...the you that he loves flying behind his eyes.

Bright caring smile and shining eyes in a world that doesn't deserve your kindness, your beauty, your compassion. Flower crowns and blushing cheeks and jumping in puddles like innocent little kids. You were the first one to make him smile again after losing Marco. You've always kept that innocence despite the terror and pain that has ravaged your lives thus far, despite all you've lost, despite the darkness constantly creeping in.

He's terrified that your light may have gone out, that the parts of you that have kept him hopeful may be gone.

Armin rushes into the cell when crying echoes off the stone walls following a smacking noise, crying that's somehow so familiar and so foreign. Jean's heart cracks at the sound, relief at hearing your voice mixing nauseatingly with the devastation of your pain.

"No no no no no," your voice chants on the curve of a sob. "I don't know anything, I don't know anything. Stop, stop, please stop." The words slur and tremble like you're drunk - but he's seen you drunk, cheeks rosy, pupils blown wide, giggles bubbling between your smiling lips. Nothing about this matches the warm tipsy way you trip over your words after a few too many sips.

Jean has never felt like a bigger coward than this moment, feet planted to the ground and teetering on the edge of a tragedy he's not sure he can handle.

He can hear Armin whispering your name. "C'mon, you know us. It's Armin, you know I'd never hurt you. We're here to help. Please, please just take a few deep breaths."

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..." you continue, words getting louder and louder until you're almost screaming, desperate wet cries that pulse in the air with fear and anguish and raw pain.

Jean swallows a deep shaky breath and takes that final step over the edge. You need him, more than ever, you need him to be better than the coward that's always been underneath the barbed comments and confident quips. You need him to be the light now, and he'll do his very best to pull you from the cold and the dark.

But even with that resolve, he's not prepared for the sight of you. Or the smell that greets him. Like piss and rot and blood, a metallic decay that singes his nostrils. There's a puddle in the far corner that has his gag reflex bobbing.

He spots your huddled body clenched like a fist on the ground, Armin kneeling by you as he tries to calm your devastating cries. Mikasa and Levi stand nearby, the latter discreetly holding his wrist to his nose - at first Jean feels a snarl pulling at his lip because who gives a shit about the smell when you're in literal agony at their feet, but then he spots the blood spotting the Captain's sleeve. Jean remembers the smacking sound, something like a slap before the resounding echo of your sobs overwhelmed his every thought.

You must have lashed out, unable to discern them from your captors and torturers.

Already he wants to scream because you've been stripped down to your underclothes, shackles keeping your bloody wrists locked to the ground - fingers similarly soaked in red in a way that he doesn't even have to look to know your fingernails are gone. Your hair has been sheered unevenly close to your scalp, patches of blood and matted knots pulling at what's left of your hair. You seem smaller than Jean remembers, thin around the ribs like those Marleyan bastards haven't even bothered to feed you the last week - it wouldn't surprise him, but it does make the stew they'd all had earlier churn guiltily in his stomach. Skin ashen and pulled taunt over your jutting joints, you're slicked with sweat and blood. You're blotched with deep-set bruises, heavy in their purple color and swelling along your limps. Lacerations too shredded to be from a knife litter your body, and suddenly Jean is fighting the image of a whip lashing at your scared trembling figure.

You're flinching away from Armin's gentle hands, arms up and crossed protectively in front of your face as you babble and plead. Somehow coiling tighter, as if the smaller the are the less likely your are to be hurt again.

Jean pulls down the scarf covering his face, taking a knee next to Armin and laying a heavy hand on his shoulder to pull him back. He whispers your name, subtly proud of how steady his voice comes out, and your shaking immediately stills.

Your arms lower, bulging paranoid eyes locking onto his own. There's blood at the corner of your mouth that has him wondering about the state of your teeth when they ran out of nails to pull. "J-Jean?"

"Hey sweetheart," he actually manages a small smile, taking the risk of reaching for your bruise stained cheek. His fingers caress your skin, still warm despite the chill of the cell. "We're here to bring you home."

You lean into his hand, irises shining with a surprising amount of clarity. "Home?"

"Yeah, home. Connie and Sasha miss you," he adds, silently reaching behind him for the keys still in Levi's possession. He tests several on the shackles on your wrist, hoping the keys for the chains aren't hidden somewhere else.

"Just Connie and Sasha?"

Jean pauses, gaze meeting yours with a heartbreaking seriousness. "No, no not just them." The lock clicks and the shackles clatter to the ground.

"I did - didn't tell them anything, I didn't I promise," you stammer, hands clawing at his forearms as you crawl into his lap. Jean is quick to hold you close, palm cradling your shaved head close to his chest, elation at having you in his arms again something precious.

"I know you didn't," Jean whispers, swallowing the urge to cry stinging at the base of his throat and behind his eyes.

"Jean," Captain Levi calls from behind him, a few speckles of blood dripping from his bruising nose. "We need to go."

Nodding, Jean quickly removes his coat and wraps the thick fabric around your body. "This might hurt, just bear with me, okay?" He tucks his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees, nudging your head so it rests against his beating heart. When he stands, you groan into his chest through his repeated apologies. He looks to his team, trying not to dwell on the lingering looks they're each sending him. "Let's go."

He walks as steady as possible, keeping his footsteps slow and deliberate so you don't jostle in his arms. The last thing he wants is to be the reason you hurt even more.

Your voice tickles his ear, breathy and grateful and airy with the hope he knows so well from you. "I knew you'd come for me."

"Always," Jean's quick to say, arms tightening around your body. You've relaxed from the tenseness of your fear, exhaustion smoothing across your face. "This time...this time I'll protect you." Those three special words swell in his throat, aching to dance between his lips in the wake of relief and terror. Instead, he watches as you finally succumb to the sleep weighing down your eyelids.

Maybe next time.

"I missed you." Jean presses his lips to your forehead, a lone tear dripping off the curve of his chin.

[thesolferino]

Touchdown

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: smut, minors please keep scrolling!

⤷ word count: 3.2k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon

— summary: clay loses a football game, and while he’s already mad, you decide to rile him up even more.

“God fucking damnit.”

Clay muttered, pulling his helmet off and slamming it against one of the benches as he said the last word, making you almost jump as you quietly trailed along behind him, feet following in his footsteps. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, wiping beads of sweat off the sides of his face as he moved towards his locker, carelessly hanging the helmet in its place as he huffed a frustrated sigh.

The locker room was empty, no traces of anyone’s belongings left, as Clay took his sweet time yelling and arguing with the coach after he instructed the rest of the team to change and get out of his sight; everyone had left before he even reached the lockers. The game hadn’t ended well for his team - the game tied, and he was feeling confident, patting their center, Nick, on the back in encouragement, shooting a pearly smile to those who cheered them on and filled the bleachers. They played overtime, and a coin was tossed, during which his team ultimately lost. Looking back on it in the pessimistic state that he was in now, throwing the towel he used to wipe his face at the wall, that should’ve been the first sign it wouldn’t end well. 

The other team scored one final touchdown in the last three minutes of the game, the crowd’s cheers and protests mixing as the opposing team’s points shot up by six, leaving them victorious by one single point and Clay upset, pent up rage and bitterness stuck inside his body with nowhere to go now that the game was over and balls couldn’t be thrown. He stayed arguing with the coach for longer than he should have, even though he simply refused to budge. You’d managed to come down from the bleachers just in time to see him hold back a curse and speedwalk towards the lockers, following close behind, not even daring to call out his name.

“Damnit!” he shouted again, sitting down on the bench, running both of his hands through his hair fervently, huffing out large exhales every time they moved back and forth. The rest of his gear was still on despite coming here specifically to change - his jersey was still draped over his large shoulder pads and chest, one glove on and the other chucked at the wall as well as the towel, shorts and knee pads in place, too. You carefully reached out to place a warm hand on his shoulder, at least giving him some type of assurance, hoping it would calm the fire that burnt in him, mighty and frantic, at least a little. 

It seems to do nothing, though, and the fire in him just keeps growing taller and stronger, flames licking farther up his throat, seconds away from escaping, burning him to ashes.

They do exactly that - they engulf his entire body, and for the split second that his gaze catches yours, you can see his eyes glint with flames, before he stands up so quickly it makes you dizzy, and presses his lips to yours hungrily. His fire engulfed you, spreading through you like an infectious disease, warmness swarming you from head to toe as he pulled you closer to him by the waist, leaving fiery fingerprints everywhere his hands touched you like hot coal.

He grunted into your kiss as he walked forward, backing you into the wall. The kiss was so unruly, so much more dizzying than any of the delicate ones you’d share in your bedroom - it was forceful, daring, scratchy, and when both of his rough arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he murmured: “Jump.” into your mouth, you knew you weren’t leaving that room without bruises. 

Despite being aware of that, though, you couldn’t help but test his dominance, at least a little bit. Being bratty was second nature; after all, you were the air to his fire. When you blew strong enough, you could calm it down, but when you blew however you pleased, you’d ignite it more intensely than any gasoline ever could. And you couldn’t take the fire out this time, so you might as well fuel it to the best of your abilities. 

“I don’t want to. And take off the uniform, you’re not gonna fuck me with those shoulder pads on.” 

He pulled away, staying close enough to your face so you could feel every riled exhale, enough so you could see his jaw clench and green eyes boring into yours so madly that you almost cowered under his gaze - however, you persisted. There was really no reason to answer like that, and both of you knew it, but you wanted to toy with him, have him earn your submission, no matter if he’s pissed out of his mind or not. In hindsight, that may have not been a good idea, and you realised that the longer he said nothing and stared at you in pure anger, but there’s no going back now, is there?

“I’ll fuck you however I want.” Clay muttered through gritted teeth. “And you’ll like it no matter what.”

With that, his arms were back around your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist when he pushed you to lean against the wall. His lips were glued back onto yours in no time, your hand automatically darting to bury itself in his hair and pull, his fingers on your hips so tight they’d surely leave red marks. His lips left yours and you almost whined but held back when they moved to your neck, barely wasting any time before biting down on it, earning a gasp from you that you foolishly hoped he didn’t hear despite knowing there’s no way he missed it. He sucked on it, hard, to the point that you knew there’s no way it could be any shade other than dark, dark purple in a couple days’ time. 

He set you down briefly, and you did your best to try and hide how impatient and upset you were getting, but he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up, tossing it to the side before getting rid of the shoulder pads as well, your eyes swerving over his sweaty, naked chest as he silently raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to do the same. You did nothing except lift your gaze back to Clay’s and stare at him with no emotion whatsoever.

“Take it off.” He commanded, gaze switching between your chest and eyes, waiting for you impatiently. You exhaled through your nose, just short of a chuckle.

“Do it yourself.” You shot back, seeing him cock his head to the side in an attempt to compose himself and flush down the anger, despite knowing it won’t work. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He scowled, hands immediately grabbing at your shirt and pulling it off, fingers quick on your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. 

“And yet you still wanna fuck me like a dog in heat.” You retorted when the clasp loosened and he pulled the fabric down your arms, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips while he rolled one of your nipples through his fingers.

“You think you’ll still be talking to me like this when you’re begging me to cum and I say no?” Clay whispers in your ear right before his mouth moves down to circle his tongue around your other nipple, and neither of you fail to notice the goosebumps that cover your whole body. You don’t even get to manage a word out, syllables falling back into your throat when you swallow upon feeling his hands sneak themselves under your skirt, gripping your thighs. 

“With how she’s talking, I’m sure my little brat isn’t wet right now. Right?” you feel your heart speed up when his hand moves a little further to the right and runs his fingers over your damp panties, brushing over your opening, fingers barely ghosting your clit. His pointer finger catches onto the fabric and pushes the underwear aside, leaving space for his middle finger to feel the juices that pour out of you, his touch feeling incredibly cold against your heat, feeling the tips of his fingers coat themselves in you before pulling away. His eyes meet yours paired with a smug smirk that you’ll never get to erase out of your memory.

“Oops.” he grins. “Seems like I was wrong.”

And then, when you least expect it, his fingers shove themselves in you, eliciting a muffled whimper, legs stumbling backwards to lean on the wall again when they start pumping in and out, lewd noises deafening you as you feel drops of wetness slipping down your thighs. He still persistently works his fingers inside your underwear, thumb sneaking inside too to rub at your clit, and that’s when he pushes a moan out of you, a sign of defeat - music to his ears. You can’t help it, can’t help any of it when it feels so good, when every time his wet finger brushes against your clit it sends a jolt through your whole body, your own hands twitching at the movement. 

Your whole body sets aflame, head blazing, sweat escaping through strands of your hair the longer he keeps going, fingers stuffed in you, thrusting in and out like it’s his last, pushing you towards your orgasm more and more. Sure enough, your stomach starts twisting and your abdomen coils, something inside you pushing you off the walls as you arch more and more and grind into his unrelenting fingers. 

“Cl-Clay… fuck, I’m-!” just as the words pass your lips, his fingers pull out, and the pleasure is entirely gone, ripped away from your hands as you stare up at him, feeling betrayed. Your hands instinctively move to your heat, as if of their own free will, but he grabs at your wrist before they make it to their destination.

“Don’t you dare. You come when I say so. I think I’ve made that very fucking clear, haven’t I?” Both of you know he’s stripped you of your brattiness when you say nothing, just swallow to mend your dry throat and quietly nod - you hate it, he loves it.

Clay pulls his shorts and underwear down his legs, and that’s when you realise you’re finally getting what you’ve been waiting for, so you hook your fingers around the waistband and pull your panties down, stepping out of them when you notice his cock, finally free and painfully throbbing as he strokes himself a few times. His eyes catch sight of the way you practically drool watching him, and he does nothing but scoff before your eyes meet.

“Get on the bench. All fours.” He commands and you comply, climbing onto one of them, arms and legs trembling where you place them.

“Watch your balance. I won’t be slow.” Clay says, guiding his cock into you, slowly pushing the tip inside as you hold your breath, waiting for him to just get on with it, already plenty stretched from the way his fingers fucked you open just seconds before.

“Won’t you now?” You murmur in irritation, words escaping you before you can even rationalise the fact that they won’t do you any good right now. “If you can’t play good, at least try to fuck me good.” 

He stopped in his tracks and you froze, only realising that you may have crossed the line after the words were already long out of your mouth, and you opened it to apologise, but didn’t even get to inhale properly when he suddenly buried himself in you to the hilt, almost tearing you apart when his hips collide with yours and you let out a pained yelp, his cock stretching you out ten times more than his fingers had.

You felt his whole hand wrap itself around your throat before he pulled you up by it, pressing his lips close to your ear so you could hear every last breath of his.

“You know I play as good as I fuck - and best believe, I’ll fuck that brat out of you.” Clay growled into your ear before pushing you back down, not even giving you time to grip the bench before pulling out and thrusting back in with a low groan, setting a fast pace from the start.

You bit down on your lip with more and more force with every thrust - he filled you to the hilt every time, and you were sure you were drawing blood by now, a slight metallic taste coating your tongue from how hard you were holding back your moans. You were absolutely not gonna let him fuck the brat out of you.

He kept pumping into you wildly, pace brutal and unforgiving, and it took everything in you to be as quiet as possible, but then you felt a cold finger carefully rub at your sensitive clit, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore, a loud moan getting pushed out of your throat.

“Fuck! Clay…” you whimpered, trying to stabilise yourself on your shaky arms but barely succeeding because the more he pumped inside of you, the more it felt like he was forcing every thought in your brain out, replacing it with only him and his name. The hand gripping your hips left them, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling it whenever he thrusted back in, making you hiss out in a sick mix of pleasure and pain.

“F-Fuck, I…” your throat ran dry from how fast and ragged your breathing stayed - it felt like he was going faster and faster every second.

“This good enough for you, princess?” he exaggerated, mocking you, a little out of breath himself as he pushed farther and farther, thumb never leaving your clit. You swallowed, not able to give him a proper response besides dumbed down words and broken syllables. He angled himself a little different with the next thrust, which made him dive into a spot he hadn’t touched before, making you see stars as you let out a huge gasp, grabbing at his arm that pulled on your hair in a blind attempt to ground yourself.

“R-Right there… fuck, please don’t-don’t stop!” you cried out, a new wave of heat flooding your entire body as he kept hitting the same spot over and over again, making you blind, white imprinted behind your eyelids. Your brain, along with any rational thoughts turned off completely, leaving you with nothing but moans and gasps of his name and how scarily good his cock felt in you.

You felt your climax creeping up on you, slowly but surely, the heat from every part of your body accumulating in the pit of your stomach, feeling the knot ready to come undone any second now. You clenched around him painfully, unable to help the spasms, seconds away from orgasm to the point you could practically taste it. It seemed like Clay could taste it, too, because he slowed down, thrusting into you lazily, like he hadn’t fucked your brains out a moment ago.

“Say sorry.” he said, voice as stable and confident as ever, unwavering compared to your shaky, barely still there one. 

“Wh-what?” It took the words a second to make their way from your ears to your brain, hazy mind clouded with nothing but him, unable to process what he’s even saying when he’s buried so deep in you.

“I said, say sorry.” he bumped into your sweet spot once again, leaving you mewling and your eyes closing on their own.

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” you stuttered, trying to piece your thoughts together while you could.

“Sorry for what?” he asked. “Sorry for the things you said, or sorry because you know I won’t let you come?” 

“I’m-I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t-… I promise I didn’t mean it… Please, let me come, baby…” you whimpered out, grabbing at his arm again, trying to gain the little bit of sympathy you hoped he still had left.

“You’ll have to beg a little harder for me to even think about it, princess.” he chuckled, like the whole thing was damn hilarious, working his fingers on your clit again as your breathing stammered and you fought your best to get some words out.

“God, baby, please, you-you know I didn’t mean it… I’m sorry, so sorry…” you breathed out with another tired gulp. “You-...I-... please, baby, you can’t do this, I’m sorry, okay?”

“I can do whatever I fucking want to and I have some reason for it. What’s stopping me from using you like my own little fuckdoll right now and leaving you here with nothing except my own cum dripping out of you? What’s stopping me?” Clay snapped, pulling you by the hair again. You gulped again, feeling actually nervous this time.

“I… Please, baby, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said, please, can you just-” 

He interrupted you mid sentence with such a rough thrust that you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers back on your clit, feeling like you’re getting lifted up to the skies themselves once again. He managed to find the same angle, hitting the spot that made you feel hell and heaven all at once, pleasure prickling at every part of your body as you loudly moaned, putting no effort into concealing it or keeping silent anymore.

You felt the knot in your stomach once again, quicker than ever, slowly unraveling itself and your cries turned into ramblings, begging him to let you come.

“Pl-please, can I please… Fuck! Please, can I- I’m so close, shit, baby, can I please-” you stuttered, tears starting to pool in the corners of your eyes as you could almost touch your climax.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me.” 

As soon as the words escaped his lips, you felt the knot finally untie itself and you let out a guttural moan, not caring who would hear or not - the pleasure was sickeningly sweet, almost making you ill, knocking you to your elbows as you couldn’t see, hear, feel nothing except the wave of pleasure washing over you repeatedly, beads of sweat running down your body.

The clenching of your heat against him while you climaxed drove Clay to the brink of insanity, coming himself before he could even realise it, filling you up to the brim with a few final thrusts. He stayed inside you for a few seconds while you were catching your breath, watching you uncontrollably spasm around him as you came down from the high, clenching around him every so often, all your senses overstimulated.

When your breathing evened out, he finally pulled out, grabbing the box of tissues from his locker as he slowly started to clean you up, wiping over your sensitive parts, holding you up lightly by the stomach so you wouldn’t fall whenever he touched one of the tender parts. You huffed out a large exhale.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clay. Remind me to never provoke you after a game again, what the fuck.” you said, voice still shaky, and you heard him cackle behind you.

“I’ll probably be mad for the rest of the day anyways, but whatever.”

“You played good, by the way. Really good. I just wanted to piss you off.” You admitted, watching him stand up and look at you with a knowing smile, before pressing a light peck against your lips. 

“Yeah, I figured.”