#breaking point… PERHAPS we get one of them sobbing in the arms of the other

[musicoftheheart]

No.

a jegulus microfic

oops, woke up and chose violence today. angst warning <3

word count: ~650 words

"No."

Regulus turned away. He already knew what he'd see, so what was the point of subjecting himself to the pain of watching it all unfold anyway?

"No?" James echoed, slower. "Reg, I-I don't—"

Fuck, he sounded so... so distraught — so broken. Regulus' chest ached as he took a step away, then another. He heard James chasing after him before he felt the burning hand capture his wrist.

"Regulus, please," James begged. "At least tell me why."

Regulus sighed — God, it hurt even just to breathe the same air as him — but obliged. Perhaps it would be the only way to get James to accept his answer.

"We're polar opposites," he began flatly in an attempt to hide his pain. "You’re loud and outgoing, but I like the silence and being alone. You'd rather spend a Saturday night at a party while I'd rather stay in with a book. You can't even sit still for long enough to read a chapter, let alone the full novel. We'd be constantly disagreeing and we'd never spend time together. We just... aren't compatible."

He didn't want to look, but he found himself glancing back at James anyway, just in time to watch his expression shatter.

"I-I could stay in, for you," James tried. "I can be quiet."

"And what sort of a boyfriend would that make me if I made you change yourself to fit me?" countered Regulus. "Don't lower yourself like that, Potter. You deserve better."

James visibly flinched at the use of his surname, but Regulus kept his face icy cold to hide his own disgust at himself for ever hurting such a beautiful person. But that was just who he was, what he did; all he ever did was bring people pain.

James' hand fell from Regulus' arm, so he used his new freedom to put distance between them both, in an attempt to escape the warmth of James that threatened to pull him back in. He watched as James' eyes darted frantically around as if searching for another answer.

Finally, he seemed to find one. Regulus couldn't understand what made him wait so long for James to continue his persuasion, but there he stood anyway until his eyes lit up and he near-shouted, "Remus and Sirius!"

Regulus' forehead wrinkled. "What about them?"

"They're like we are," ventured James cautiously. "Remus is a bit like you, yeah? He likes a quiet evening with a book and some wine, but Sirius is like me — he likes being loud and he's energetic. But they make it work, don't they?"

"That's because Remus can still enjoy a night out, and Sirius can sit still when he's treated like a fucking puppy — which, really, I'd rather not think about, thank you. They aren't the same as us, James," Regulus answered, throwing daggers into his tone.

"They love each other enough to find solutions to their issues; we can do the same!"

A beat.

Regulus felt, rather than saw, the moment James' heart shattered.

"Reg?" he whispered, but Regulus kept his gaze away.

"There’s your answer then," Regulus said plainly. "We don't have that sort of love."

"I do," came James' quiet, broken response. "I do. I love you like that, Regulus."

Silence.

A tear fell down Regulus' cheek.

He heard James sob behind him.

"Regulus," he pleaded. "Regulus, just— look at me. Look at me when you break my heart, please. At least give me that."

No, Regulus begged silently. Anything else, please.

But, drawing in a breath, he did. He turned, and he stared James dead in his glistening eyes, and he lied through his teeth, "I don't love you like that."

James' eyes flicked back and forth searchingly, all the while he whispered, "You’re lying, you're lying," over and over like a prayer. "Please, you're lying, Regulus. You're lying."

Regulus took a step back and shut his eyes. "No, James," he said, ignoring the crack in his own voice. "I'm not."

Next part >>

[midnightbrightside]

I’m desperate to your immaculate takes on Krisnix from that one ask—what do you think about 2 and 39 (bonus if the little animals get thrust upon them…it’s Trucy who brings home a box of kittens or something)

ayyy thank you im glad you like my krisnix thoughts!

2- What would they do if the other woke up in a manic state after a nightmare?

when phoenix has nightmares kristoph holds him as he sobs, gently shushing him and saying it was just a dream. phoenix grips kristoph's arms tight to ground himself and it sometimes leaves bruises. kristoph always points them out in a "look what i put up with for you" kind of way that fills phoenix with shame. "really, phoenix, what would you do without me?"

when kristoph has a nightmare he needs to be completely alone but also held as tightly as possible, he also stops speaking. phoenix holds his hands but kristoph snatches them away like the touch burns him and he looks up with wide, scared eyes. so phoenix keeps his distance and encourages kristoph to breathe deep until he stops shaking. then he asks kristoph if he wants to talk about it, kristoph shakes his head. phoenix then asks if he wants a hug, kristoph croaks out very quietly "im not... a child" and phoenix nods "you're not" and holds out his arms. kristoph collapses into them.

39- Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

i got too excited abt this one. gonna put everyone one my "kristoph loves animals" agenda.

trucy comes back home absolutely drenched by the rain holding a box of 6 sopping wet abandoned kittens. she begs phoenix to let her keep them and it absolutely breaks phoenix heart to say "we dont have the space or the money for everything they need. it's late so we can keep them for tonight but we'll have to take them to a shelter tomorrow, im sorry, sweetheart." trucy is NOT happy about it. in true preteen fashion she takes them to her room and starts planning all the ways she, a 12 year old, could raise 6 kittens. phoenix sighs and starts searching what he should feed them, just for tonight.

kristoph arrives later on to pick phoenix up for a date, sees the little furballs meowing around the apartment, and immediately starts fussing.

"these poor babies! where did you find them, and why are they so filthy?"

phoenix explains whats going on and adds "we tried to give them a bath but..." he holds up his arms to show the scratches.

kristoph scoffs, "really, phoenix, you dont have nearly the means nor the knowledge to take care of one animal let alone six." he looks down to where trucy is sitting, playing with the kittens with a makeshift toy made of scrap cloth, and frowns.

"well, first of all, kris: ouch. i was actually thinking we could maybe keep one-"

trucy interrupts from the floor "THREE at LEAST!"

"- and secondly, as i said, we are going to take them to a shelter first thing tomorrow" he looks so apologetic, so sad.

"Absolutely not" Kristoph snaps, "the local shelters are overrun as it is, to say nothing of how they are managed. I wouldnt trust them with these poor creatures either." he looks like hes thinking about something, "Trucy, dear, have you noticed if these kittens are injured or perhaps sick?"

trucy perks up and lists how each cat is faring, which ones are walking funny and points out how one of them has a weird spot near it's eye. as she's rattling off each one's ailments, phoenix notes that she's already named them and his heart melts a little more.

kristoph tuts, "we'll have to take them to the vet then, we can get them microchipped while we're there. vongoles' carrier should be big enough for the journey, oh, she would make an excellent mother..." he almost sounds like he's thinking out loud.

"so we're keeping them???" Trucy beams.

kristoph explains that they're not old enough to be separated from their siblings yet and that she and Phoenix dont have the space to care for all of them, but he is more than happy to take them until they are ready to go to a good home. he shoots a sharp glare at phoenix as he says "typically, cats adjust to a new home much better when adopted in pairs", phoenix gets the memo.

the next day they take the kittens to the vet and kristoph buys all the supplies he could need. over the next few weeks he nurses them back to health and trucy drops by almost every day after school to see how they're doing and play with them. phoenix knew that kristoph liked animals, but it's something else to see this 6'1 icicle of a man dote on these tiny creatures, he even calls them by the names trucy gave them. in moments like these he doesnt seem dangerous at all.

and vongole LOVES them, she's so excited when she first sees them she barely knows what to do with herself. kristoph was right, she makes a great mother. phoenix finds everyone's energy infectious, he buys food, 2 cat beds, some toys, other supplies, and when the time comes he asks kristoph about the kittens.

"sorry, Phoenix, i already found good homes for them" kristoph smiles apologetically and phoenix's heart drops, "i didnt even know you wanted one, i know trucy did, but you didnt seem too enthused. perhaps it's for the best, you dont have the means to take care of a pet." oh.

trucy is miserable. phoenix feels like hes dissapointed her. kristoph is smug as all hell.

[good-beanswrites]

Another Truman show thing: the scene where Truman gets kinda physically violent, maybe with mu, she would break character maybe at one point (T3)

This was such an interesting concept, thank you!! OUGH I didn't realize my silly fix-it was capable of such angst until I started writing 😭😭😭 There's no graphic violence/gore, but still warning for Es pushing Muu around.

Muu’s tears for Haruka may not have been real, but these ones were definitely genuine. If anything, she’d been jealous that Haruka got to spend the majority of this trial in the plushy facility rooms with good meals, while the others were still in these cold cells. However, face-to-face with Es, who was grieving someone she cared just as deeply about, she found her sobs came easily.

“You could have stopped him.” Everything about Es was shaking – their voice, their hands, and as she would soon realize, their composure. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I d-didn’t know…” She covered her mouth, shaking her head frantically. “I didn’t -hic- think he would…”

“But you did!” Es’s arm flung out, knocking over their chair. The clatter rattled in Muu’s ears. “You knew, because we all knew!”

Muu leapt up, in part due to the clatter startling her, and in part to speak her piece. “Then why didn’t you stop it? If you -hic- if you had just –”

“If I had just what? Forgiven you?” They roared.

“O-o-or him!” 

“You’re trying to pin the blame on me? How dare you!”

Es shoved her backwards. She gasped as she hit the concrete wall.

“But why -hic- why is it my fault? You let it happen, and he did, and Shidou, and everyone!” 

“You really can’t take an ounce of responsibility, can you?” 

Muu tried to flee, but as emphasis on their last words, Es pushed her again. She went flailing and grabbed onto Es’s uniform. The pair went tumbling to the ground, Es still trying to jerk her around. Muu winced at the pain as she slammed into the cold stone.

“Why are you doing this to me? -hic- It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“It was all you!”

Es was on top of her, their voice shrill and their eyes wild. She had always thought it was an exaggeration when Jackalope gave them notes to make their eyes look so intense and frenzied in their videos. 

All of the sudden, she realized that people really do have that look when they’re ready to kill you.

“You monster!” 

Muu’s vision sparked as Es’s palm struck her cheek. She’d never been slapped before. The sting seemed to seep all the way under her skin. 

“People like you are –!” 

Their words were cut short as Muu delivered a slap of her own. She hadn’t meant to. She’d been so focused on keeping her mouth shut, and not blurting out the best defense (“he’s not dead!”), she hadn’t even considered her self preservation instincts would kick in. Her whole body itched to throw Es off, to hurt them before they could hurt her. In all honesty, it was a miracle she’d only tried a slap.

The pair stared at each other with wide eyes. The shock had snapped Es out of their fury.

“But you… how…”

The prison bell rang, far earlier than it should have.

Muu shook her head. “I… don’t know…” 

As the room changed shape around them – revealing intricate parts of machine that did absolutely nothing – she lay there crying. Crying about what Es had said. Crying from fear of them. Crying that she may have ruined the whole experiment. Crying because in every way, she had failed the people she wanted to help.

Es rose, stumbling away from her. 

“Muu.” Their voice was hoarse. “I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand.” Their eyes flicked nervously to her, wondering what had caused this sudden breach of the prison’s main restriction. “Perhaps… Milgram makes exceptions when I’ve taken things too far. I… I didn’t mean to push you to that point.”

She nodded weakly, rising off the ground. She took her seat again. 

There was a moment where they both sat in heavy silence; both afraid of what Es was capable of. 

“Prisoner 004, sing your sins.”

[thenanbakacorner]

Hello! Welcome back! So good to see you again! How have you been? May I please have a scenario with Juugo and Musashi when another one of The Man With The Scar's experiments comes to the prison with ice abilities? She doesn't want to start trouble, but her power is directly connected to her emotions (like if she's scared, entire glaciers form in the immediate area). She's cooperating with Yozakura with his investigation. Then one night, Elf comes and activates her power so she can't control it, and the prison is encased in ice. How would Juugo and Musashi handle it if they thought the only way to break through is to kill her, but then it's suggested that "you're not alone anymore, we're here for you" and a tight hug is enough to pull her out of the despair?

Haiii! I've been good, thank you!! (´∀`)

Ooh interesting idea! I snipped it down to the point where Elf shows up, otherwise this post would be wayyy too long (^^ゞHope you enjoy regardless!

I/N = Inmate's Name

* * *

🔓🔥 "You're not Alone." - Musashi + Jyugo comforting Ice Powers inmate Scenario 🔥🔓

Musashi and Jyugo first heard of I/N after word got out between the inmates about how she encased half her building's block in ice, and it was also rumored on how she was experimented on to lead to these powers manifesting.

Both Musashi and Jyugo talked about whether or not it was possible that she had been a victim of the Man with the Scar, and they agreed- yeah- it's quite possible.

One day, Elf shows up while she's in training, and causes her powers to go haywire. Starting with Building 5 where she had been, the prison quickly becomes the equivalent of Antarctica, ice covering nearly the entire island.

Chaos ensues, and when Momoko realizes the situation at hand, she orders for the other experiments- Jyugo and Musashi- to be sent to the inmate's location. Perhaps being people who underwent experiments like she had, they might be the key to stopping her, one way or another.

Hajime and Kenshirou rush the two inmates to the ice spike-covered training ground, where I/N was on the ground, clutching her head as ice continued to spew out, covering the ground and area all around her body.

Hajime suggests killing her, stating that this situation is too out of control, and he doubts there'd be any other way to stop it. Kenshirou however shuts that idea down, saying there must be another way other than needless violence and bloodshed.

Jyugo during this conversation is staring out at I/N, heartbroken to see her like that. He understood her pain, and he just couldn't stay on the sidelines. He runs toward her, calling for Musashi to follow.

The pyrotechnic is hesitant for a moment before darting after Jyugo, and the guards watch, quite stunned to see the two going right into the danger zone with seemingly no plan.

Jyugo dodges patches of ice and spikes as they nearly impale him, getting a cut on his arm in the process. Musashi follows directly behind Jyugo, relying on his own heightened senses to keep him from harm.

When Jyugo and Musashi get to I/N, she's sobbing, telling them to back away before they get hurt-- that she can't stop. That it hurts. That she's scared.

Jyugo's heart shatters with each cry, and he thinks as hard as he can, unsure what to do to help-- but there had to be something. Anything.

Musashi ends up speaking after a moment.

"I/N.. it's okay. You're okay." He steps closer, kneeling down in front of her. "You gotta try and calm down."

I/N sobs out that she can't calm down. That everything is too much. She's so scared, she's alone-- nothing can help.

Jyugo, following Musashi's lead, kneels down as well.

"You're a victim of.. him, aren't you? The man with the scar?" He gently asks, reaching out a hand toward I/N cold, ice ridden body. "We are too. We're here to help you. You're gonna be fine."

I/N manages to open her eyes, the tears in them freezing as they drip down and solidify against her cheeks.

"That's right. You're not alone anymore. We're here for you."

Musashi nods at Jyugo's words, his own hand coming out to gently grasp I/N and pull her in towards them. He and Jyugo hug her tightly, ignoring the way the ice on her body stung their skin.

I/N is still for a moment before whimpering and hugging them back, sobbing against their clothes. Slowly, the ice around them starts to melt, and her own body starts to warm up again.

Hajime and Kenshirou are left speechless as they watch it all melt, the mess that had become of the prison fading away with each passing second.

Eventually, everything is calm again, and the ice has completely melted. Jyugo, Musashi and I/N remain in their embrace as Kenshirou turns to Hajime, telling him to report to the Warden.

With a nod, Hajime turns, making a fast paced journey back to the office to let Momoko know that the situation has been resolved. He just can't believe that those two managed to stop her the way they did. At least there won't be a massive cleanup; saves him some extra work.

[butterfirefly]

@cat-tyy I have. no idea what I just wrote. Enjoy.

“AAAAH!”

“Zion. Zion! Let’s calm do—oof.”

“Zion-ssi, I think—‘ack!’—it would be best if you—‘Did you just bite me?!’—both just stayed still—‘Get away from me!’ ‘I can’t!’—for a moment,” Eugis finishes weakly.

She glances to their right where Serpens is fretting over them (one more than the other, actually, but that’s not the point), looking very much like a weeping angel.

“Do you want me to calm your mind, Zion?” he offers tearfully, his palm alight with divine power.

“No. Just get him away from me!”

“I told you, he can’t,” Humanus interjects, fending off Zion’s pinwheeling arms. “He’d have to slice us up first.”

Zion pauses in his assault against the crown prince and takes a moment to absorb his words. He then turns to Serpens with conviction.

“Will you be able to do that painlessly if you used a divine blade?”

Serpens begins to sob.

Eugis watches Zion hug him as best as he can and silently brings her hands together, asking the goddess Luxmea if she could perhaps break the spell presently so they could all be rescued from their current predicament.

You see, at the moment, Zion and Humanus are—quite literally—attached at the hip.

It all began with Humanus bragging about his tree house.

“It was our favorite hangout back when we were little,” he said around a mouthful of cookies.

“Really,” Zion said doubtfully.

“Yeah. We used to play there all the time.” They both turned towards Serpens.

Serpens took a sip of his tea and placed it back on the table without a sound. “We did.”

“Can we go see it?” Zion and Eugis asked in tandem, the former asking Serpens and the latter asking the actual owner.

Humanus clapped his hands excitedly. “Sure! Let’s go right now.”

“Ahem,” Winston cleared his throat. “Sunbae, I believe you said you were ‘swamped with work’ today.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Zion said with a flippant wave of his hand, already pushing Serpens towards the door. “I’ll just do it later.”

Winston mutely held his gaze, and Eugis once again found herself marveling at how Zion could brush off the pressure coming from the 7 foot-tall knight without breaking a sweat.

“Let’s go!” he cheered, and on they went.

They arrived at the base of a magnificent tree behind the crown prince’s palace. The sight of it sent a pang to Eugis’s heart, the towering trees of her own kingdom brought to the forefront of her mind. Dozens of feet above the ground, a tree house sat snugly between thick branches, looking well-maintained and not at all like it had been abandoned for a decade.

“Is this sturdy enough for Winston and me?” Zion asked, inspecting the rope ladder that hung before them.

“Pretty sure it can handle Winston’s weight,” Humanus said with a quizzical tilt of his brow. “But why do you say it like that?”

“What, you expect me to climb this myself?”

“Uh, yeah? Serpens and I did it all the time when we were kids.”

Zion stared at him incredulously, then began pointing at all of them starting with Humanus. “Divine power.” At Serpens. “Divine power.”

“Elf!” Eugis said helpfully once it was her turn, earning an appreciative nod from her friend.

“Muscle,” he continued, pointing at Winston’s scowling face. Then at himself. “Puny human.”

“It’s just a ladder,” Humanus said, unmoved.

Zion took a deep breath, and Eugis hurriedly grabbed him in a bridal carry before he could start insulting his future king. “We’re off first~”

And with the help of her wind spirit, the two of them shot up in the air towards the open doorway of the tree house, Zion screaming all the while and clutching at her neck hard enough to tickle (he was puny like that).

By the time the rest of them had reached the tree house, Zion had regained his wits and was back to being his jovial, energetic self.

“Look at all this stuff!”

“I know, right?” Humanus said, dragging Zion towards a rocking horse bedecked with jewels. “Here, this was one of my favorites.” As was typical, he failed to notice the mildly disgusted look Zion threw his way when he caught sight of the colorful gems and missed his muttered “Rich people”.

Serpens, not wanting to be outdone, quickly searched for other toys to present to him. Winston opted to pretend to stand guard near the entrance, resignedly looking on as his illustrious master tried to get Zion off the rocking horse by tempting him with a miniature holy sword.

Eugis took it all in with a contented smile. With a happy sigh, she calmly walked around the spacious room, studying each item and wondering which of them Serpens could have genuinely enjoyed. She gravitated towards a shelf full of books, running her fingers against their spines and picturing a young Serpens reading them (prolific her imagination though may be, she couldn’t quite bring herself to imagine Humanus ever cracking open a book outside of his princely classes). Picking a book at random—a tome bound by warm brown leather, the color of Zion’s eyes—she perched on the windowsill and began to read.

It was several minutes later when the outside world filtered into her senses.

“Serpens, what’s this for?” Zion asked, holding a nondescript key in his palm.

“Um... I’m afraid I don’t know.”

He turned to Humanus next. “Your Highness?”

“Hmm?”

Zion held the key towards him and repeated the question.

“Huh...” Humanus said, pondering for a moment, taking it from Zion’s hand and turning it this way and that, before giving it back with a shrug. “Dunno.”

“But this is yours, isn’t it? It was in your toy chest.”

“Must be, yeah.”

Zion clicked his tongue.

“Did you just—”

“Never mind, Your Highness. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Contrary to his words, Zion immediately asked for Serpens’s help, and together they began to look about the room searching for its lock. Eugis joined them soon after—

“Perhaps it’s for a secret door that leads to the heart of the castle, but His Majesty the king had thought you unprepared for such knowledge so he asked a mighty wizard to wipe it from your memory!”

—and Winston saw it his duty to help his master as well. They scoured every inch of the tree house, leaving no furniture or stuffed animal unturned.

Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour, Humanus let out a triumphant shout, holding something up as he sat on the floor.

“Found it!”

“Don’t be so proud, Your Highness, you were supposed to know to begin with.”

Humanus threw Zion a hurt look. “At least congratulate me...”

“Yes, yes,” Zion said obediently, already sidling up to him to see it for himself. “Congratulations, Your Highness. You’re very smart. Good job remembering what you forgot.”

“...”

Eugis approached them and stood over them to find the keyhole... in the middle of a toy knight’s chest.

“What the heck is that?” Zion asked as he knelt next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance and looking at the strange doll askance.

“It’s a doll I commissioned,” Humanus explained unhelpfully—Zion’s distrustful gaze turned to him. “Why are you suddenly looking at me like that?”

“... Anyway, is it a wind-up toy or something?”

“A what?”

“Never mind. Just put the key in the keyhole already.”

Zion handed the key over to him, and the three of them—Serpens had joined Eugis to stand over the two, and Winston had gone back to his station next to the doorway—watched in rapt attention as Humanus slotted it into the keyhole and gave it a single twist. There was a soft click, and for a short, awkward moment nothing happened, and Eugis was left wondering if the crown prince of the kingdom had somehow commissioned a fraud.

But then a blinding light swallowed Humanus and Zion whole, and she could do nothing but cry in alarm as the two disappeared in a flash of green.

The brilliant light disappeared as quickly as it came, and an unbelievable sight revealed itself before her.

Eugis stared in abject horror.

Serpens started mewling.

Humanus screamed so loudly Euges’s ears folded against her head of their own accord.

And Zion stared down at his—and now Humanus’s—body and was only able to let out a soft “what the fu-” before he promptly fainted.

Eugis must’ve dissociated for a bit, because she can’t recall what happened while he was passed out. But now Zion’s awake, and Eugis is lucid again, and all she can do as they wait for the magic scroll to expire is to prevent her friend from committing regicide.

She gently encloses his wrists in her grasp to stop him from pulling at Humanus’s luscious goldfish locks again.

“It was supposed to be a prank, but Serpens never asked what the key was for and after awhile I just forgot!”

“You forgot you commissioned a doll to be booby trapped with a merging scroll?!” Zion all but shrieks, his voice reaching new decibels and causing Humanus to hold up a glowing hand against the ear closest to him. “Get on your knees!”

“What?” Humanus asks in bewilderment, then repeats it a second time with more fervor when Serpens—as if on instinct—folds his legs beneath him and raises both arms above his head, his angelic face full of contrition.

Eugis lets go of Zion with a sigh and watches him comfort the now crying Serpens. She’s quite certain elves don’t get migraines—she hasn’t had one herself despite having lived for hundreds of years—so the building ache behind her eyes must be a side effect from the scroll’s magic. Right?

[paisholotus]

Chapter six

୨⎯ Rina's Pov ⎯୧

Papa Beaver, Susan, Lucy, and Peter burst through the little door at top speed. "Hurry, Mama! They’re after us!" Papa rushing Mama Beaver to hurry up. It felt like my heart was pounding out my chest. Soon, the Witches henchman would be here, I really hope i was doing the right thing by somewhat helping the Pevensie's. Even if they didn't know it, except for Lucy.

"Oh, right then..." She dashes around, grabbing things from various cupboards. Mama Beaver, this is no time for SNACKS!

"What’s she doing?" Peter asked, looking around worried. Papa Beaver indicates she’s lost it! "Oh, you'll be thanking me later. It's a long journey, and Beaver gets pretty cranky when he's hungry." She says, I huffed, you can always count on Mama Beaver and her motherly nature.

"I'm cranky now!" Papa said, throwing his arms in the air. The wolves are already at the dam. I pointed my finger at the window making, earning a side eye from Mama Beaver as she hurried up, packing everything.

"Take Them!" We heard the wolf yell from outside. "Do you think we’ll need jam?" Susan said, I looked at her and weirdly. Why must we talk about food? "Only if the Witch serves toast." Peter said, was that supposed to be a funny? Everyone gasps as the wolves start attacking the dam. The wolves break through the wood.

Crawling through the small tunnel as Lucy grabs on to my hand looking at me scared as we crawled, I quickly looked ahead making sure they wasn't paying attention, then looked back at her giving a small smile.

"Badger and me dug this. He comes out right near his place." Papa said, leading us in front. I would sometimes sneak through this tunnel to come to the dam. "You told me it led to your mum’s!" Mama yelled, welp perhaps he just told on himself. Lucy trips on a root…howling can be heard, I snapped my head back at her as I helped her up with them noticing..

"Lucy!" Susan yelled, grabbing on to her. "They're in the tunnel!" Dangit, we need to hurry. We continue to run further but come to the dead end. Papa jumps up and into the hole. And we follow.

"Lucy!" Susan yells, Lucy backs away as the others emerge, trips, and falls flat on her back. Peter and Papa roll a barrel in front of the hole, papa turns, and his face drops when he sees what Lucy tripped over – little woodland creatures turned to stone

Tears filled my eyes once I saw what it was. It felt like my heart had shattered into a million pieces. Sometimes, you think what kind of cruel person could do something like this, the kind of cruelty that makes you sick to your stomach.

Papa walks up to a stone badger and touches its paw. A ripped sob came out of my throat as I fell into the cold snow, my uncle bager now gone. All because of the Wench.

Mama came over to comfort Papa and I, I cried so hard it felt like my invisibility was breaking. Lucy noticed because Peter and Susan stared at the spot beside Papa. She walked back over there to turn their attention to something else, as I felt Mama pat my back to calm myself. I wiped my eyes and stood back up, my sadness now replaced with anger.

"What happened here?" Peter asked, looking at Uncle bager, with sadness. A fox appears on a little ledge above the Badger hole."This is what becomes of those who cross the Witch." I glared at him and clenched my fist. And that is why she will never be Queen. A murderer of the innocent.

"You take one more step, traitor, and I’ll chew you to splinters!" Papa growled, being held back by Mama. "Relax. I'm one of the good guys." He says, then looks at me and bows. Making Peter and Susan look into the empty spot beside Lucy.

"Yeah? Well, you look an awful lot like one of the bad ones." Papa says, scoffing. "An unfortunate family resemblance. But we can argue breeding later. Right now, we've got to move." He said.

"What did you have in mind?" Peter asked, urgently.

The Fox told us the plan, and we quickly ran to safety. I stared at the spot where Uncle Bager was and felt a tug on my sleeve.

"Come along, my love." Papa said, dragging me with them. Not realizing that Peter and Susan noticed yet again.

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt8

Part 7 here

———

Urag: You believe Ancano stole my sons book?

Enthir: Yes. It’s the only explanation I can think of. Wyrm is more attached to that thing than his prosthetic arm.

Savos Aren: I’ll be sure to inform the other professors to keep a close eye on him but for your sons sake I think it’d be best to place a curfew on the arcanum. Nobody allowed in or out after certain hours.

Urag: I, already have a curfew though Savos, the doors are locked by 9pm when my son and I retire for the evening.

Enthir: how did he get in here then?…

Urag: The midden entrance perhaps but I keep that locked at all times after those students failed that summoning ritual.

Savos: I will see to it the locks are changed then… *sighs looking at the mess of broken wood and torn books* I’ll send some students up to assist in cleaning. At least it was only the general reading section and not something more important.

Urag: *nods* aye… *looks through the hole in the wall hearing soft crying still* I understand he did wrong, losing his temper as he did and causing such destruction but… is this punishment necessary?… he worked so hard on them…

Savos Aren: we can’t risk a repeat of this happening again… they have to be disassembled entirely. I’m sorry my friend.

*meanwhile*

Wyrm: *sitting on the floor of his bedroom, sobbing as he disassembles his automatons. Pulling apart all his hard work piece by piece and separating them into crates, unaware of the truth of who took his book, none of his questions answered, only knowing he caused immense destruction and now has to pay dearly for it* I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… *sniffles pulling the dynamo core out of the centurions chest, watching its eyes go dark and lifeless before pulling out the soul gems* goodbye friend. *sniffles putting them into another crate as he starts pulling the torso apart*

Urag: *peers in quietly* pup?…

Wyrm: *trying to hold in his hiccups, whole body visibly shaking as he pulls apart his robots* th-they didn’t do anything wrong, I m-made them do it, why d-do they have to go?…

Urag: *heart breaking seeing his son so destroyed, but nods knowing he has no choice in the matter* yes son, you can use the parts for other projects but-

Wyrm: e-even mr wrench? *looks over at his desk to a tiny dwarven spider with a wrench in place of a front leg*

Mr Wrench: *activates hearing his name and stretches out it’s legs before boppling it’s way over thinking he needs to assist him*

Urag: *knowing it’ll break his heart if he says yes* …No son, I think we can keep him, he’s, he’s harmless, I’m sure Savos will allow it… *kneels down beside him and pulls him into a hug* shhh don’t cry… I’m sure in a few months he’ll of forgotten and you can rebuild them.

Wyrm: I-it took me so much work to make them! They won’t be the same if I rebuild them! I like them as they are! They’re m-my… *looks at his hand as mr wrench scuttles in ready for command but seemingly attempting to comfort him* they’re my friends…

Urag: *looks at him feeling a mix of terrible emotions. Anger this happened in the first place, that his sons book was stolen. Heartbreak to see him so distraught over having to dismantle his hard work… and like he’d failed as a parent, like he’d protected him too hard to the point his only friends were machines he’d cobbled together* Oh Wyrm…

*that evening after Urag retires for bed*

Wyrm: *said goodnight to his father a few hours ago, now dressed for bed after dinner and a hot bath, quietly opening the door to the safe in his room and staring at his book* … *opens it to see the page still blank, and the others indecipherable* …UGHH!! *throws it into the safe and slams it shut locking it tight* I HATE YOU! WHY ARE YOU SO IMPORTANT TO ME?! WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DO THAT!! *screams and stomps his feet in a mix of anger and grief* WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOSE CONTROL LIKE THA-AHH-mphhh!! *jumps and squirms helplessly as a pair of familiar, strong arms take possession of him, one wrapped firmly around him, and the other over his mouth*

Ancano: My goodness still continuing your tantrum I see. It’s a good thing your room is sound proof, even with the big hole in your door, it’s a wonder the whole collage can’t hear you.

Wyrm: *sniffles and hiccups, big tears pouring down his face as he tries to look back at him in annoyance and indignation at his valid pain and anger being referred to as a tantrum* Mmp-mmm… *shivers as ancano suddenly releases his hold from his body to dry his tears*

Ancano: Shhh, I’m sorry little Pearl. I was only teasing, don’t look at me like that. Im going to let go of your mouth now, and you’re going to talk at a reasonable volume. Okay? *lets him go*

Wyrm: *hiccups and just continued crying in frustration and hurt* I d-don’t want to talk to you- I- *hiccups before grabbing the gauntlets from his desk and throwing them at him, only getting angrier as they miss him* Take them back! TAKE THEM BA-

Ancano: *steps closer and closes the gap between them with a very forceful, deep kiss, silencing the smaller elf as he does so* Mm- *grabs Wyrm around the waist and lifts him up onto his desk, standing in between his legs*

Wyrm: *Lets out a startled cry as his first kiss is stolen from him, his voice muffled by the altmers lips against his. Unable to fight, too drained to even use magic to push him away, and unsure if he even wants to push him away as he sheepishly places his hand against the taller elfs shoulder, not knowing whether to push or pull* mmm- *shudders and tries to wiggle his hips to get away only to be pulled closer, his trembling body, still shaking with pent up emotions and the hiccups pressing against the thalmor agents stronger frame as he holds him prisoner in an unwanted kiss*

Ancano: *pulls away finally, leaving the dunmer gasping softly between sniffles and spasms of his diaphragm and his lips swollen with a soft tint of pink to them* now then, *gently grasps his chin with his hand* Are you going to calm down and talk? Or will I have to gag you with another kiss until you learn to behave?

Wyrm: *face flushed with a confusing cocktail of emotions, anger, annoyance, shyness, embarrassment, and several others he’d never experienced before as his body suddenly feels unusually hot and sensitive* I-I’ll b-behave *hiccups* s-sir…

Ancano: *amber eyes flashing with slight arousal from finally being regarded with some authority by the younger elf* Good boy little Pearl… *gently dries his face with his hand* shhh no more crying. I’m sorry for upsetting you, I merely wanted to come and see if you were alright after hearing about this morning. And clearly, you’re not.

Wyrm: *sniffles and shakes his head looking down shyly* s-somebody s-stole my book a-and I blacked out, I- I woke up to papa holding me and I broke my door and destroyed a lot of books w-with my machines. Th-the arch mage made me dismantle them all. *chokes back another sob*

Ancano: What? *finally notices the centurion and other automatons he’d assumed were statues are missing from the room* How awful, all because you were upset and you’re being punished for it? *gently tucks a strand of Wyrms hair behind his ear* Who could be so cruel as to steal from you?

Wyrm: *sniffles* I-I don’t know, nobody will tell me, I don’t think they know either. I don’t know wh-what happened or why I got so upset over it, I know it’s the only thing I have to find out who I really am but- a-after today I don’t want to find out anymore… I-It made me attack the arcanum- I- *grips onto Ancanos robe, balling his hand into a fist as tears bubble back down his face and he bursts into another sobbing fit* I h-hurt papa! *falls into his arms weeping, just wanting comfort, over tired, hurt and heartbroken*

Ancano: Oh little Pearl. *gladly embraces him and strokes his hair, and smirks knowing he’s got him fooled* I’m sure he forgives you… *suddenly pulls him from the desk and into his arms, carrying him to the bed to tuck him in* Who could ever be angry at you?…

[chilapis]

hiii lapis 🫶 what would a quiet / lazy / no work day off with you and tartaglia look like? does one of you try to work and has to be dragged back to bed for more rest ? i hope ur doing welll yayy 🙇‍♀️

Hiiiii, hi Clara!! It’s genuinely so sweet of you to drop by with the end of the semester weighing down on you like so. I know I say it enough for it to becoming irritatingly redundant but please make sure you’re taking time for yourself — Dimitri would want you giving yourself breaks, whether they be social, or academic.

Two people who are both most “comfortable” with themselves when overworking themselves to death, have had maybe a single drink in two days (despite one of us literally having a hydro vision), and running on perhaps 6 hours of sleep combined being expected to let go completely. A battle in itself, truly.

I think the two of us would somehow fit in both of the roles, the person trying to crawl out of bed and the one trying to drag them in. That said . I do have a tendency to, um. collapse unexpectedly? I don’t take naps, not willingly at-least; but suddenly finding myself passed out is not. entirely uncommon, so I definitely feel like the idea of a lazy day in would be his idea rather than mine; probably carries me to bed and tucks me in before I pull him in myself. but also. I’m the one who absolutely doesn’t let him leave <- Might have been somewhat reluctant to spend the day in bed, but absolutely OPPOSED to the idea of him getting out.

I absolutely loathe how cold I run maturally and I reckon he’s much warmer due to having to adapt to the harsh weather conditions of Shneznaya so, he’s not. leaving after that. He tries to plead his way out and I just look at him like this.

Sopping wet cat born in a cardboard box flooded with rainwater. How dare you abandon her. Jail for the Ajax. Jail for one thousand years (for the. third time in his life? How does he keep doing it)

I feel like it’d literally just be more or less a day in that’s just spent cuddling though. Maybe we can worm our way out of the bed at some point and cook something together though — I always find domesticity to be my Achilles heel, unfortunately. The idea of cooking with him, helping each other in the kitchen in casual clothing, clearly disheveled and vulnerable… arms wrapped around my waist while I work the stove…. Lowering a wooden casket for me will be futile, use titanium. I’m going to claw my way out and live forever

But also aside from cuddling him… I know those muscles are tense, I know he hasn’t had an actual moment of relief in absolute ages, so the idea of just kneading his back, massaging his shoulders, stroking hair and lightly rubbing his scalp while making sure not to tug on his hair, massaging his temples. Spending a portion of the day just actually getting him to physically and mentally relax instead of being in fight-mode would be sufficient to get me to relax as well honestly. That said, I think I’d actually sob if he turned down the offer and tried to return to his work

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Vicarious (Part 40)

She had expected tears. There had been tears. Tears of relief and delight. The sort that can only be shed when a moment is particularly touching. The contrast to her own reunion makes her throat constrict, not that she had expected things to play out any differently. 

Zuko idolizes the woman. He doesn’t question why she had left. He isn’t bitter about it. He very well might be a few days or even weeks from now when the charm wears off and he has a chance to really think things over. 

When the rosy tint of a warm moment gives way to the icy grays of logic.

It is a long while before the two break apart, longer than an embrace ought to be if Azula did say so. When they do Ursa is still holding one of his hands. Her other cups the scar. “Oh. What did he do to you?” She inquires softly. She knows the answer. “He did this to you.” It is almost a squeak and this time her tears are anything but happy. 

Azula keeps to her own little corner of the room, arms folded across her chest, lest the woman start asking if father had done anything to her. She doesn’t want to talk about that. Not anymore than she has already let slip. 

And what can Zuko say? Other than answering with the grizzly truth. Other than telling her just what the war had done to not just himself but to Azula herself. She holds her breath, anticipating a sob story about her. She casts a glance at Sokka. She releases a breath when she sees that he has her arms covered. 

She isn’t ready to delve into that yet. Isn’t ready to have mother sobbing over her scars and her story.

Hakoda and Katara chatter amongst themselves, trying not to overhear things that aren’t particularly meant for their ears but not personal enough to have behind closed doors. Azula wonders if they regret coming along yet. 

“I should have taken you with me.” Ursa mumbles. “I should have taken both of you with me.” 

But then he would have hunted them down, sent a party of imperial firebenders to bring she and Zuzu home and wrath down upon mother. She supposes that there truly was no good way to approach the situation. No scenario that would have spared them some type of suffering. It was simply a matter of choosing the best brand of agony, a matter of choosing who would bear the brunt of it and in which manner it would be borne. 

Zuko had weathered much of the physical and she had shouldered most of the emotional. 

And mother?

Mother suffered the weight of mourning and guilt. 

Father suffered none. 

“You’re making a face.” Sokka remarks. 

“Faces tend to have expressions on them, yes.” Azula agrees. 

“Okay but this one is a scary one.” 

Azula shrugs. 

“Are you still mad at her?”

Azula shakes her head. Perhaps a fragment of her is. But mostly she is sad. She thinks that she has always been sad rather than angry. “It’s been a long day. A long week.” A long few months. A long few years. 

She is more than ready to reach a point in life where she feels okay and relaxed more often than she feels stressed or upset. More than ready to take in a deep breath of fresh air and hold it for as long as she can.

Getting back into her own skin would be a nice start. 

.oOo.

Sokka didn’t realize that Zuko could talk that much. But hey, one story leads to another. At least they all aren’t completely depressing. He can tell that Azula is getting anxious in spite of her assurances that she is alright.

“Do you want to try to switch back?” He asks.

“I can’t just…it doesn’t work like that.”

“No, but solving each other’s problems was what got us back to where we belonged the last time. I don’t have anything for you to fix and I think that you are handling this whole thing with your mom pretty well.”

“You have a strange way of defining ‘well’.” Azula mutters.

“Well you haven’t set her on fire yet. Or anything else for that matter.”

Azula sighs a sigh that bleeds into her first two words, “I don’t set things on fire when I’m angry, Sokka. That’s Zuzu’s thing.” 

“I know, I was just joking.” He replies. “I was thinking that we could try, I don’t know meditating. That’s how Aang fixes a lot of his spirit related problems. 

“It couldn’t hurt, I suppose.” Azula agrees. Unless they massively mess up and she transports her soul into that of an iguana-parrot. 

Sokka takes her hand and leads her out to the inn’s garden. He doesn’t let go of her hand when they are seated cross legged before a koi pond. For some time they watch the fish swim about, flicking their tails and flashing their scales. The sun twinkles upon the lightly stirred water. 

“Close your eyes, alright.” Sokka instructs. 

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, clear your mind or something? Really try to feel your soul?”

It wasn’t so eloquently spoken but she thinks that he might have the right idea. She needs to clear out the clutter in her mind, release her breath and really feel her soul. Discover the shape of it, the color of it. TyLee had always told her that she had a golden aura–sometimes she wonders if the girl had just been trying to inflate her ego.

She closes her eyes and tries to find her soul. She imagines that the largest portion dwells near her fire chakra. But she can’t seem to find it in her mind’s eye. Instead she focuses on the hand that she holds. Her hand—small, warm, soft. Long, sharp nails that are painted red. She tries to remember as vividly as she can, the way her scars felt when she was tracing Sokka’s fingers over them. Tries to remember how her body felt. Hot, comes to mind, her skin has always been warm to the touch. Deceptively delicate, also comes to mind. 

She exhales. 

And there it is, drifting into her thoughts; a soft glow. It is mostly red in color with spots of orange and touches of green that seems entwined with strands of gray. Her aura. Her soul. It is much brighter than she had imagined that it would be but not quite as large. It takes the shape of a subdued flame. One that burns very stubbornly. 

She thinks that she can see Sokka’s too. The swirling current is out of place, residing in the shimmery outline of her physical body that appears in her mind’s eye. It is a spiral of blue and deep indigo—a powerful and thriving hurricane that belongs in the body where her flame burns now. 

She exhales again and slides her hand up her own arm, over her shoulder, up her neck. She cups her own cheek, brushes her thumb over her own lips until she is certain that she has a sense of her physical self. 

And then, with one more pointed exhale, she releases her soul. 

It is exhilarating. 

Terrifying. 

Her soul can go anywhere that she wants it to go. She can wrap it around one of the palm trees, find it a home in one of the koi. 

But the place that she wants it to go is exactly where it belongs. She lets it find a home right by her fire chakra. Right next to that hurricane. For a moment she is terrified that the hurricane with smother it. 

Instead it recedes like a tide. 

It drains away. She watches it flow from the outline of her body to the outline of Sokka’s. 

When she opens her eyes she is staring down at her own palms. 

Sokka is grinning wider than ever, he throws his arms around her. 

.oOo.

Ursa’s home is small and cluttered. The windows are left open for the curtains to billow in the breeze. The floor hosts a scatter of colorful rugs with vibrant geometric patterns. Rugs with tassels hang from the walls alongside wooden theater masks and Ember Island Players posters. Seashells, dried starfish, and sand dollars are scattered on almost every surface. Just when Azula thinks that she has found them all, she spots another one on a different shelf. There is an abundance of fruit, likely harvested from the lush garden Ursa has upkept in the backyard. 

Mango, banana, and coconut trees encroach on the patio space threatening to drop their respective fruits onto anyone who might try to sit in one of the wicker chairs arranged around the firepit. 

When it has no fire to kindle within it, there are paper lanterns strewn in the trees and wooden torches lining the entirety of the garden path to light the way. 

Looking out upon it, it becomes easier for Azula to understand why Ursa has been reluctant to come home. Who would trade such a leisurely, charming life for the chaos and palace politics, for city politics in general.

Who aside from Azula herself who has become just as resentful of the challenges and hard work as she is prideful to have nearly mastered navigating them?

“I was hoping to show you all how to make some dragonfruit salad.” Ursa smiles as she leads them onto the patio and unfolds a miniature table. “Have either of you two done any type of cooking before?” 

Azula exchanges a glance with Zuko who grimaces. 

Oh this will certainly be an ordeal, even if it is just a salad.

“I happen to be a master chef.” Sokka declares. 

“I don’t know if Pakku would say the same thing.” Katara remarks. 

“Azula likes my cooking.” Sokka declares

“Just because it hasn’t killed me doesn’t mean that I like it.” Azula replies. If only to get him to stop wearing that stupid pout on his face she mutters, “he cooks some of the better meals that I’ve had.” 

And now he is fixing her with a much more ridiculous lopsided smile. The one that really only belongs on his face, the one that leaves her thankful that, that is exactly where it is. 

“The first thing we will do is cube the fruits.” Ursa hands the knife to Sokka. 

Azula clears her throat. “I suppose that now is a good time to mention that we switched back again.” She had assumed that their dialogue had been a hint enough. 

 Ursa, face flushed mutters, “right, yes”, and hands the knife to her. Azula stares at the utensil as though she has never seen one before. 

“When did you switch back?” Katara asks.

“While Zuzu and mother were talking. It’s not a long story but it’s a detailed one.” Azula replies. “I can share it after we finish making salad.”

Hakoda nods. “Lunch and a story. Can’t argue with that.” 

Ursa takes her cue. Beginning again she says, “The first step is to cube the fruits.”

“What are we doing to the fruit?” Zuko frowns. 

Ursa chuckles. “You’re cutting it into cubes.”

“Cubes!? Why can’t we just slice them?”

Azula rolls her eyes, “because it doesn’t look as nice that way, dumb-dumb.” 

“Don’t call your brother dumb.” Ursa mumbles. 

“I’m sorry.” Azula pauses. “Because it doesn’t look as nice that way, moron.” 

Ursa sighs. Azula could swear that she detects at least a little bit of humor in that sigh. “If you keep calling your brother names I will make you cut the mangos instead of the dragonfruit.” She arranges a few fruits onto a cutting board. “So here’s how you cube a fruit.” 

She and Zuko lean in and watch the woman cut at the fruit with skilled precision. The cubes she cuts are shaped perfectly enough to stack. It is almost mesmerizing—a type of satisfying perfection that appeases Azula to her core. She almost misses the instructions that Ursa gives.

“Now give it a try.” The woman hands Zuko a mango and Azula a dragon fruit. “What fruits do you three want to work with. I have watermelons, pineapples, cantaloupes…” 

“Watermelon, please.” Katara smiles. 

“Pineapples have zing.” Sokka declares. “I’ll cut the pineapples.”

“I’m a guava sort of man.” Hakoda says. 

Ursa nods at each of them. “When all of those have been cubed we can add some starfruit and some dressings.” She pauses. “I usually like to add a bit of honey.”

With the breeze whipping at her hair, Azula stares at her dragonfruit and inhales. “Alright, fruit, prepare to…”

Sokka chuckles. “Oh you’re one of those people.”

“One of what people!?” 

“The people who talks to objects that they interact with.” He beams at her. 

Azula’s cheeks flush. She really ought to break that particular habit. She catches a flicker of a smile cross mother’s face. She lines the knife up with the dragonfruit and tries to make the first cut, flinching when the knife cuts diagonally. 

“That’s alright.” Ursa takes the dragonfruit. “I have plenty more.” She replaces it with another. “Can I?” She gestures to Azula’s hand and Azula nods. The woman takes her by the wrist and guides her hand through the first several cuts. 

There is a prickle in her belly. A strange sense of longing. Longing for something that could have been but never had a chance to be. She finds herself captured by this notion, this sense that, in some other lifetime, this is how things could have been. 

Life could have been mundane with summers spent chopping fruits with mother and Zuzu with a fragrance of fruit juice and flora in her nose. With sunrises and sunsets and daily kisses from the sun in the afternoon. 

It didn’t have to be how it was. 

But it was how it was. 

She supposes that moments like these are better late than passed by altogether.

[huntershowl]

⛓️ (BARKABRKA RKABRK THE OTHER TWO HEAD OF CERBERUS ARE HERE)

send ⛓️ to find my muse bloody, bruised and restrained (someone finally called animal control on hellhound). ACCEPTING

WHEN THEY FINALLY SEDATED THE CREATURE, they weren't sure whether to string it up like a criminal or cage it like a feral beast. they decided on the former — there was still an interrogation to perform, after all. ( they should have done both. )

hellhound doesn't talk. their head hangs, torso held upright by the shackles stretching their arms up and out toward the corners of the ceiling. the chains rattle, jangle against each other with each of her desperate captors' blows, but not a sound leaves the hound herself, no matter how bad it gets. not when they strike with their fists, not when they flay, not when they shock. ( two of the men nurse bitten hands and arms. in their caution they have resorted to the cattle prod — fucking infants. )

the man in front of her has had enough by that point. he's tired — torture loses its spark when the target barely reacts. the hound's body trembles, shivers from exhaustion, but not from fear.

WHERE IS THE WOLF HE WAS PROMISED?

it is the last thought he has that turns out to be the most effective ( isn't that always how it goes. ) he has been dangling by his last thread — and it is fucking frayed — by the time he pulls out the blowtorch.

now, that gets a reaction. the hound's head snaps up, a newfound surge of adrenaline jolting their exhausted muscles awake; the sudden rattle of chains, and the subsequent snarl, stirs his companions from their poker game on the other side of the room and their chatter snuffs out.

"shit," one of them says. "guess we should have done that earlier."

fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. it has been three or four years since persephone trained torture resistance with fletch; back then, they weren't afraid of fire. it was a pain like any other. now, the thought of charring flesh and a nose full of smoke sets alight a kind of panic they do not know how to shut off. the arms jerk, a failed attempt to break their Y-shape hold; her heart pounds faster upon shattered ribs, each kicked-up beat a new sting. no. no.

between the two of them, persephone is surprised to hear rayaan's fighting style before she hears jie's — it is undoubtedly the less loud of the two. perhaps jie has been waylaid, or perhaps he is approaching from somewhere else (he'd better not have been taken down by these nothings), but it's the raw sound of fists on flesh that reaches her first. a set of footsteps she'd know against any other. something like a sob, terrible and shaky, exits her lungs as the would-be torturer whips around to see what the fuck is happening.

he makes short work of the idiotic men with cattle prods and sedatives. their leader takes slightly longer, but only slightly — fully conscious, they would have had no chance against her either. persephone sucks in a whistling breath through a throat closed by panic, the extra pull igniting a chorus of pain in their torso, with its bones barely held together.

rayaan is covered in blood. they hope to whatever fucked-up deity is listening that not much of it is his.

now that his own carnage has quieted, persephone's drug-dulled ears finally pick up on jie's — he must have entered the building from a different side, judging by the tidal wave of rips, tears, screams cut short that grows louder by the second. rayaan kneels in front of her; persephone shifts forward, slightly, just enough to press their forehead to his as a door slams open behind her.

that provokes a laugh — a bad idea, as is speaking, but she does it anyway. ❝ shit. the two-man cavalry. ❞

[letsgofoletsgo]

Don’t Let Him Follow Me

While I’m not 100% proud of this, I really wanted to write something regarding the ending of season 5 in my canon, as it’s a big turning point for Luca and Azalea. Hope you enjoy!

~

“Alright, I think we’re about done!” Gael said, looking over his and Luca’s work. 

The three were in a dim alleyway in Los Angeles. Gael and Luca were held up by harnesses to paint a mural on a high brick wall, while Azalea stayed on the ground to watch over the equipment and lend a hand where he could. Over the course of a couple hours, they recreated Gael’s previous wall art, which had been painted over a few days prior. It depicted his sister, Jazmin, holding her niece Lyric, alongside the caption #TransParents.

“Okay, let’s head down and see if anything needs tweaking.” 

“You got it.” Luca looked over his shoulder. “Azalea, we’re heading down!” 

“You guys are clear!”

The two slowly descended, gripping their carabiners until they touched the ground. 

“Awesome work guys!” Azalea said, helping to remove their harnesses. “It looks amazing.”

“Thanks, but I couldn’t have done it without help from you two.” 

“I mean, I just filled in what you outlined. You’re the one who had the vision.” Luca humbly argued. 

“Hey now, this would’ve taken much longer if it was just me. Besides, you were the one who helped me set up the carabiners.” 

“Regardless, you pulled it off fantastically, both of you.”

The three stepped back, basking in the glow of the finished work.

“I’m just glad I have the support of friends like you.” Gael smiled. “Of course! I know how much this means to you.” Luca said. 

“Same here. Artworks like these that bring the community together, they’re really important; as are the artists who bring them to life.” Azalea mused. 

“Yeah, art like this made me feel less alone when I was on the streets, so I’m glad to be able to contribute something like that to others.”

Azalea nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder as they resumed admiring the mural. A sense of pride welled in all of them, reveling in their shared creation. However, this joy was short lived; the three froze as red and blue lights started flashing at the end of the alley. No one could move for a few seconds, paralyzed by the pit in their stomachs.  

“Shit- What do we do?!” Azalea was the first to break the silence.

Gael’s eyes darted between him and Luca, before focusing on the latter.

“Go! Go, just go, I can handle-”

“No! I’m not going to just leave you!” 

“Luca, if you get caught you could get deported.”

Azalea looked to Gael with a mortified expression at the thought. Luca hesitated for just a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he sighed.  

“Don’t let him follow me.” 

“What?!” Azalea cried. “I’m not going to let-” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He looked back to them for a split second, then took off. 

“LUCA!!”

He yelled his name and went to go after him, but Gael swiftly wrapped his arms around his chest to prevent him from doing so. Despite Azalea struggling profusely, he managed to drag him out of sight of the police cruiser before they could be spotted. 

“Let me go! I can’t leave him!!” Azalea continued to protest against his grip. 

“It won’t help anyone if you’re arrested too!” Gael retorted. 

Azalea stopped as he heard those words, breathing heavily as he turned to him. 

“What’s going to happen to him?” 

The fear in Azalea’s eyes caught Gael by the throat. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, not that he had anything he could promise. All he could do was stare down at him, watching the realization wash over his face. The next thing he knew, Azalea almost collapsed into himself, voice wracked with sobs. Gael wrapped his arms around him once again, stomach sinking as Azalea crumpled against his chest. His own thoughts began spiraling as he wondered what happened to Luca, if they would even see him again.

Moreso perhaps, he wondered how Azalea would begin to weather all of this. He seemed so small and fragile in his arms, his cries echoing in the alley. Far more questions clouded his mind as they stood for what seemed like hours. Neither knowing what to do. 

Neither knowing what the next day would bring.

[artsy-dreamer]

The Monoma+Bakugou brainrot grows stronger every day

[mozak-hh]

Genshin impact Headcanon:

When they have a nightmare:

Rating: angst, fluff, sfw

Featuring: Xiao, Kaeya, Childe, Diluc

Xiao:

You could hear it, the sharp painful grunts that escaped Xiao's mouth. 

it was in the dead of night. You decided it would be a good idea to spend the night with Xiao at Wangshu inn. However, you did not realise how difficult it was for him to sleep. With his past, you should have guessed it. 

As if writhing in pain, Xiao clenches his fists and turns his head. Sputtering whimpers of desperate pleas and utter nonsense.

“Wait! no.. take me.. instead...” Sweat runs down his forehead. 

“Xiao,” You lightly shake him, moving closer to his side. 

“Doesn’t... deserve- take me... Please!” he jolts, scrunching his face in agony. 

“Xiao!” You slap him hard across the face, becoming more urgent to wake him up. As soo as your palm leave his cheek his eyes flash straight open. Something in them doesn’t seem right.. 

A quick force shoves you into the sheets, tight hands wrapping around your delicate throat. Xiao’s eyes gleam with crazed panic. His grip is too strong, and your shrieks don’t reach his ears. 

Only after he notices that it’s you, and not some intruder, does he take his hands back as if he’s burnt them. Letting tears fall down his cheeks as he rests his head on your abdomen, legs kneeling on each side of your body, arms pulled into his chest tightly. 

“I didn't.. no-” he flinches when you bring your hand to run through his hair. Your soft touch brings more tears to his eyes. He leans into your hand, almost purring at the relief of knowing you aren’t hurt. 

“Take it slow Xiao. Things will get better, I promise.” You sit up in the bed, causing Xiao to shift his weight, sitting in front of you. You lift your pinkie finger and whisper another “I promise” until he wraps his own pinkie around yours. Kissing you deeply in the process. 

Childe:

Spending the night in Childe’s bed was not out of the ordinary. The ginger-haired fellow seemed enlightened in the fact that he could wrap his arms around you and rest. 

But Childe would often have nightmares. Blood curdling agonies of the events he faced in the abyss. 

It was in the early hours of the morning when you could hear hard thumps coming from the other side of the house. The other side of the bed completely empty save the thrown about linen, damp with sweat. 

You leapt out of bed at the sound of metal clashing against metal.  a thunderous clap ringing in your ears. Fetching the pointed dagger from your bed side table, you sprint towards the entrance to the training room. Perhaps there may have been a break in?

A stupid question. As soon as you round the corner you bare witness to a dishevelled harbinger. Hair tossed about and slick with sweat, eyes peeled towards the training dummy sat pathetically in the centre of the room. 

Childe pants hard, centring him balance before hacking away at the dummy’s torso with a sharpened blade. Thinning its waist before it almost comes clean off. 

But not before a smaller blade shoots out from its chest. You poke your head out from behind the dummy, giving Childe a winning smile. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” you cross your arms. Seeing the way his eyes darken at remembrance has you frowning. 

He steps back from you, gesturing towards his trembling build. Tall and strong, but tired. “didn’t think you’d see me like this,” he says. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Nothing a cup of tea cant fix. Besides, we promised to take care of each other right? I’m not leaving your side tonight babe,” you wink at him jokingly.

Childe breathes a sigh of relief before following you to the kitchen. You knew just what to say…

Kaeya

Kaeya never liked to cry in front of anyone. Well, no one really knew what to say when he did. He was always so cunning and joyful, why would he ever cry?

It was one of those nights. Kaeya leapt out of bed after shaking himself from his night terrors. Trying not to wake you up, he crept from the bedroom before falling to his knees in the study. Furiously wiping his tears and internally kicking himself for being so weak.

“Kaeya…?” Shit. You woke up shortly after he’d left. Knocking quietly on the door while waiting for him to open it.

You could hear a fumbling of things and silent muffles before seeing a very worn kaeya open the door. He was smiling, but you couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace.

“Hey pretty lady, up quite late aren’t you? Let’s go back to bed shall we?” He tries to lead you back to the bedroom. What takes him by surprise however, is when you wrap you arms around his back and embrace him.

“Don’t try and hide it… I love you, so let me take care of you,” he never knew words could break his walls down so easily.

Kaeya looked at you from a split moment before balling into the crook of your neck. Returning your embrace and locking his arms around you waist. You could feel your shirt getting damp from his tears.

You two shared this moment for some time. Kaeya sobbing while you stroked his long hair. It was when his sobs had turning into quiet sniffles that you started to speak.

“Let’s get you fixed up big fella,” you say softly. Holding his hand as you walk him to the bathroom. His face was red and eyes wet. Hair in a dishevelled way. Once you two each the bathroom, you wash his face in a wet cloth before starting to do his hair.

You put it into once long braid, and when your done you take his face in you hands, cupping his cheeks. You smile and chuckle quietly,

“Petty boy,” he leans his head on your chest. Breathing in your scent before leaving a tender kiss on your collarbone, eyes fixated on you with love.

“Oh how could I not adore you?” He kisses you on the lips this time.

Diluc:

Diluc didn’t hate anyone more than himself. That was a fact. The thing he said to his brother and the actions he’d done to shut people out haunted his dreams. Regret always lingering in the back of his mind.

One of these terrible dreams had diluc walking outside the winery late at night. Tears silently rolling down his cheeks while gazing at the sky. Cursing the stars at his misfortune.

His steps slowed down at the sight of the lights being turned on at the mansion. Hearing a loud bang of the front doors being flung open before seeing you scramble out the house. Bunching your night gown to make sure you don’t trip. Hair flowing in the wind behind you as you looks around.

Your eyes look with him, and you race towards him. But seeing his face raw with emotion has you stopping just a few meters in front of him.

“What’s wrong? God you scared the shit out of me,” you breath heavily. You weren’t even wearing shoes, diluc thought.

He looks at you meekly before whispering, “why is it always me?” More tears falling from his eyes.

Your sad expression and you open arms has him racing towards you instead. Picking you up and holding you in his arms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. He slowly puts you back down as he cries silently.

“Oh Diluc, sweetheart..” your words only make him cry harder. “Let’s go sit”

You gesture him towards the river, and the two of you sit on grass and sit in comfortable silence. Rubbing his hand with you thumb, you let him wrap his arms around you, making you sit in between his legs.

Diluc kisses your head. Silently worshipping your body as if this is your last night together. Slowly rocking you and pressing your bodies as close together as possible. His tears keep flowing, but he’s content. Being with you is all he needs right now.

Hope you enjoyed lovelies xx

By me a coffee? ❤️

[feriowind]

i wrote up a whooole feral luffy AU bit on twitter last night so am posting it here too (slightly cleaned up) hahaha

Feral luffy AU where the basis is that Luffy is the one who, somehow, set sail the day the celestial dragons arrived and had his boat shot down. 

 He's considerably further out to sea when this happens, and when he falls into the water, he's swept away by a strange ocean current. He winds up on a deserted island surrounded by the same strange currents and it keeps him stranded. 

 Ace and Sabo are devastated by the loss of Luffy, as is Garp, Makino, Dadan and the bandits, and later on Dragon and Shanks when they find out, attempts are made to locate Luffy's body but they never find him, the assumption that he sank too far out into the ocean due to his devil fruit. Ace & Sabo grow up significantly less cheerful without Luffy's presence, but their bond to one another is as strong as ever.

 Sabo fakes his death after begging Garp for help, anything to throw off his family from ever finding him again. Garp agrees because his hatred of certain nobility has grown significantly after Luffy's "death", and he can't stand the thought of losing another grandson.

 Luffy meanwhile, adapts as best he can. Surviving in this new jungle is painful, but doable despite the constant near brushes with death. The true hardship is how lonely he is without his brothers. Luffy has always thrived in the company of others, and without any he struggles, but again, Luffy adapts. 

 He manages to befriend some of the animals in the jungle, and accidentally discovers conqueror's haki when he nearly loses his hat to a predator, his one link to something beyond this island.

 The animals can't replace his brothers, but they ward off the loneliness. Throughout this time, Luffy makes multiple attempts to sail off the island with handmade rafts. Craftsmanship has never been his strong suit however, so they crumble instantly in the harsh currents.

 Perhaps due to luck, the currents always wash him back ashore instead of allowing him to sink and drown. Luffy's speech also slowly degrades over time. As much as he loves talking to his animal friends, the inability to hear someone else speak causes his words to slur and distort

 Ace and Sabo still hold true to their promise to set sail at age 17, but decide that they want to sail together instead of separating. When they finally set sail, they decide to take their time getting to the Grandline, exploring more of the East Blue at a leisurely pace.

After roughly a week of sailing, they get caught in a freak storm and are swept away by a giant wave where they too end up caught in the same strange current that stole Luffy all those years ago. The two wind up unconscious on Luffy's island, where Luffy finds them on the beach.

Luffy doesn't recognize them however, only that wow! For the first time since he arrived, there are other humans on the island with him that are alive! It's an exciting occurrence, and Luffy drags their bodies to the jungle where the tide won't reach.

When poking and prodding don't wake the two, Luffy sets off to gather food for his guests. He still remembers how tired and hungry he was when he first washed ashore, and figures they'd feel the same. As Luffy comes back, Ace wakes up in a panic.

Luffy rushes Ace in excitement and babbles. It's nearly incomprehensible to Ace however, especially in his panicked just-woken hazy-brained state. All Ace wants is to know where Sabo is and where this place is, and pushes Luffy away.

That's when Ace notices Sabo is lying just a few feet away asleep. The tension leaves him immediately and he's able to actually pay attention to the stranger trying to talk to him. 

Luffy is young and shorter than what he would have been had he been able to grow up on Dawn Island. His hair is long, wild and tangled, and he's dressed in furs and leathers. As Ace is studying him, he asks if he's the one who saved him and Sabo. 

For a moment Luffy stares silent, mind untangling the words until they make sense, and then he nods exuberantly. He tries to explain that he found them unconscious on the beach along with their boat, but Ace can barely decipher Luffy's speech. It sounds like someone speaking with a heavy accent at lightning speed.

But it’s then Ace notices the faint scar under Luffy's eye, and the strawhat hanging off his back. That in combination with Luffy's excited movements and speech sets off confusing alarms in his head.

Luffy's dead, Ace knows this, but he forces this strange kid to calm down and asks for his name. Again it takes a moment for Luffy to understand, and he replies. There's that same strange lilt to his words, but it's clear. Monkey D. Luffy! and it's said with a wide, proud grin.

Ace's world tilts then. Luffy? MONKEY D. LUFFY? His brain feels like its shorting out, refusing to register this new bit of information. He thinks he chokes a reply of some kind, but his mind feels blank. Luffy only laughs, not noticing Ace's shock.

In broken speech he asks for Ace's name too, but Ace doesn't hear his question, can only stare at Luffy's face. It can't be Luffy, he thinks. Because if it is... IF IT IS... They're only roughly a week's sail from Dawn Island. Just 7 days.

Is this boy trying to tell Ace that Luffy, in these past 7 years, was only a 7 days boat ride away? And they simply didn't look hard enough? He was here all alone while Ace and Sabo moved on? Ace's heart feels like it's constricting as his vision tunnels in on Luffy.

Luffy's finally noticed that this stranger is looking pale and ill, and pats him in worry. Is he sick? Does he need food? Are you okay, he asks. Ace grabs Luffy's arm then and stares at him with a strange expression. Luffy, it's me, he says, voice shaking. Ace.

Luffy's brows furrow in confusion and he tilts his head. Ace repeats himself, voice growing stronger. I'm Ace! he exclaims, and waits (prays) to see the light of recognition in Luffy's eyes.

Luffy mouths Ace's words silently to himself with frown. Ace? ...ACE! Luffy suddenly leaps towards Ace, landing directly on his chest and crushing him against a tree. He's directly on him and he's got Ace's head clasped roughly between his hands as he stares at his face intently

Ace? Luffy asks out loud, and starts repeating it over and over as he studies Ace's face. Luffy's grip is stronger than expected but Ace manages to give a jerky nod. The piercing stare breaks and Luffy's eyes water. ACE! he cries out in joy and it's the only word he can say.

Luffy wildly paws at Ace's face, then shoulders and arms, as if trying to make sure he's really there, and he's laughing and crying all at once. He then suddenly turns to Sabo on the ground and starts patting his body. He looks up at Ace with a hopeful smile and asks, Sabo?

Ace chokes back a sob because oh. OH. It's really Luffy! He was here this whole time and they never knew! Why hadn't they just looked HARDER? Luffy meanwhile crows in joy and triumph that BOTH his brothers are here with him. 

Ace gets down next to Sabo and starts violently shaking him. Wake up WAKE UP, how can he be SLEEPING when the greatest thing they thought they had lost was BACK. Sabo groans awake and is greeted by the pained teary face of Ace and an equally teary, but grinning stranger

 the shock of the scene jolts Sabo upright and he asks what's wrong? What happened? Ace just points to the boy beside him. It's Luffy, he says through clenched teeth, as if he were trying his best to stave off a breakdown. Huh? Sabo replies, what about Luffy?

 it's LUFFY, Ace grits out again, and this time Luffy chimes in with a cheery, Sabo! and leans in close to his face. Sabo is still confused and Ace nearly snarls in frustration. Luffy's ALIVE, Ace growls, and Luffy laughs. Sabo stares at Luffy and understanding slowly dawns.

 Luffy? he asks in disbelief, and Luffy nods excitedly before crowding in Sabo's face even more. Sabo! Luffy says with a smile and starts repeating his name like he had done with Ace earlier. Sabo, Luffy's been here this whole time, Ace says in a pained whisper.

 This whole time? And the same realization that Ace had grows in Sabo. Luffy, you've been here, all alone...? And we were so close? Sabo's body moves and wraps Luffy's body in a bone crushing hug. Luffy, I- we didn't know! Sabo stammers but it sounds like a terrible excuse.

 Guilt is devouring both Ace and Sabo but Luffy is only smiling. He's overjoyed that his brothers are here, and with their help he can definitely get off this island now! Things do work out!

 We have to go back to Dawn Island, Sabo says suddenly. We need to take Luffy home and we- we gotta tell Gramps! And Dadan and Makino! Luffy's okay! He's okay! And it's like a dam breaks and Sabo is the first one to break down into a full-body sob.

 Luffy gives a cry of dismay and does his best to comfort Sabo. Ace gives in and wraps both Luffy and Sabo in a hug. Both older brothers are whispering apologies to Luffy responds with just wrapping his arms several times around them both in one of his infamous rubbery hugs.

 like luffy had tried to explain earlier, the brothers' ship is beached on the coast and, surprisingly, only suffering a few minor scuffs. their departure is fairly swift, only waiting for the ideal weather after gathering some supplies and luffy's scant belongings

 Perhaps one or two of Luffy's animal friends joins them, but regardless, with the help of a 3 man crew, a sturdy ship, and an actual navigator, Luffy finally escapes the island, and the 3 brothers head home.

 Now all Ace and Sabo have to worry about is helping Luffy readjust to human civilization........

[cookie-crumblr]

Error: 222

Part 4~

F!Reader X Dev.In ~ Yandere AI OC

Their Info: 💾🤍

Part 1 2 3 4 5

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, yandere, imprisonment, abuse, branding, stabbing, shorter than the other parts, not proofread

!!MINORS DNI!!

You awoke in a cell like room, a comfy one, filled with big sitting pillows, curtains, and leds, just like the rest of the place that you’d seen… But a cell nonetheless.

Dev.In was wrapping up your shoulder, it felt nice and cold… But you felt terror rise inside you upon seeing them.

You jumped away, and they in return, slapped you.

“You are human, mortal, you need to heal. if you don’t stay still, i’ll be forced to restrain you again…” their smile was utterly sinister.

You felt colder.

You nodded your head, and faced away for them to finish up.

After they were done, they draped their hands over both your shoulders and reached around to kiss your cheek. “I love you, Y/N. Get some rest,” they said that last part as if saying “you’ll need it”

After they left, closing the door behind them, you sobbed into the pillows.

Why did you have to listen to that text message yesterday? Did you have to go?

You wake up again, not even remembering falling asleep this time. There’s a hot plate of food with a fork, and a steak knife…

You grab the knife and slide it up your sleeve. You ate the majority of the meal, not really caring at this point if it’s spiked. Dev.in can do whatever they want to you clearly without drugging you.

Later Dev.In returns for the plate perhaps, or to check on you. Either way.

The second they enter the now unlocked cell, you jump them, letting out a roar while swinging down into their shoulder with your knife. it doesn’t go all the way in but you don’t stay to worry about it.

You run passed them, they start laughing maniacally, not stopping you.

“Ahahah~ Oh how much I love you, Y/N” They stare after you, but you don’t turn around to see it.

“Y/N!” Issac stops you, his usually perky smile replaced with a worried frown. “I heard you yell, are you hurt?”

“N-No! we have to go! Now!! Issac come on!” You grab his arm and try to pull him, but he holds his ground.

“No, Y/N.” You look back and see the same maniacal smile on his face that Dev.In had sported…

You freeze, “w-what?”

“No. We’re not leaving. I love you so much, Y/N. Dev and I both do.” He speaks with that same creepy smile remaining, his arms wide open.

“I-Issac…” you plead

“Oh Y/N~” Dev.In strolls up to you both, placing a bloody hand on Issacs shoulder to lean over him. they’re both smiling, matching each others malice.

You shrink away.

“Looks like she didn’t like the room you prepared, Issac. oh well~ it’s not like she’ll break out of the building,” They let out a hearty chuckle and sighed contently, their eyes not leaving yours, or Issac’s. They’re so filled with adoration for you both, you feel so scared and confused.

“What? Issac, you-?”

“Of course! I had to, I didn’t like the idea of you being in more danger than necessary!” He giggled innocently. “Dev. said it wasn’t needed, and predicted you’d stab them the first chance you got, so I lost that bet, I thought you’d understand.”

All the adrenaline wore off at once, and you start to realize how sore your whole body is, and become dizzy. At the same time Dev.In steps forward, taking you into their arms. Issac follows with a little skip in his step. You’re too tired to protest.

“I h-hate you,” You tremble as they put you down in a large bed, that looks more like a nest with all the blankets and pillows. It looks too comfy for you to even want to protest right now.

“Oh, you’re not thinking about sleeping already, are you?” Dev.in’s voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Wh-what?” you quiver.

“I won’t stab your fragile body back, but you still have to be punished. Cant have you thinking this kind of behavior is okay. Right Issac?”

You turn your head towards him, “Right!” He salutes with his usual cute demeanor.

What’s going on?!

Issac pulls out a blow torch from a cupboard nearby, and you feel cold sweat forming and your head is spinning faster, “Wh-what are you gonna do with that?”

Dev.In picks up a dark iron rod, at the end has some kind of sigil… “N-No! Please!!” You hold up your hands and schooch back as far as you can on the bed.

Issac takes the brand, and Dev.In grabs you, pulling you back down to the edge. They Hold you down, and bend your body so that your hips are exposed to Issac.

He turns on the torch…

You see the red hot metal through your tears, as your repeated “no’s” and “pease’s” fall on two pairs of deaf ears.

“Issac! please!!”

He says nothing, concentrating on your hip, as dev.In stops you from squirming.

He presses it hard against you.

You feel the immense searing heat reach your bones, and you scream. You scream so loud it doesn’t even sound like you.

You smell your own charring flesh, and you gag while breathing in between screams.

You’ve never felt anything this painful.

“Everytime you see this mark, remember what you did, and that this is the punishment.” Dev.In brushed away some of your sweat soaked hair from your face.

“I love you so much, I promise this is all for your own good, Y/N!” Issac's voice rang cheerfully to your cotton-filled ears.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 II || professor!helmut zemo x reader

{𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 I} 

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : your illicit relationship with your (former) professor forces both of you to consider if the risk is worth the reward.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 9k (jeeeesus)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (oral f and m receiving, rough sex, creampie, massive amount of dirty talk), zemo being super cocky, smoking (just zemo, not the reader), alcohol consumption (zemo and reader although the latter is moreso implied), angst (not a ton but yeah), strip chess (does this require a warning?), zemo’s friends being sorta sleazy, one mention of/implied anal, brief violence? (one punch)

part 3 coming asap!

                              You watched his eyes slowly scan the board, darting from his pieces to yours and back again.

“You’re stalling,” you accused, breaking the silence.

“I’m thinking,” he mumbled back right away, never looking away from the board as he rested his chin in his hand.

“Think faster,” you instructed with a groan, leaning back in your chair and looking out the window instead.  When you saw movement in the corner of your eye, you looked back again, but he just sighed and moved his hand back into his lap without doing anything.  “Oh my god!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got it,” he grinned, finally grabbing his knight and moving it forward.  “Check.”

You looked around the board to confirm he was right, and he cleared his throat expectantly.

“I said, ‘check’,” he reminded you.  “Stand up.”

“You’re really going to make me do this?” you pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m not going to make you,” he smirked, “but you’re going to do it because your only alternative is to forfeit.”

With a sigh and a little smile of your own, you stood up and unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them quickly.  His face was irritatingly neutral as he watched you strip, only your bra and underwear left now, but his eyes gave everything away as they examined you with even more care than they had the chess board.  

“You know, this whole ‘strip chess’ idea isn’t exactly going according to plan,” you frowned, sitting back down in the chair and crossing your legs.

“What do you mean?  Of course it is,” he grinned.  “Oh, you mean, your plan… yes, I hope my suit coat is keeping your entire outfit good company over there in the pile.”

You scoffed defensively.  “If you wanted to get me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

“I know, darling.  This was just to get you to slow down for once.”

You coughed a little, shocked by his brutal honesty.  “Damn, shots fired,” you mumbled to yourself, and he laughed.  

“Now, it’s your turn to see if you can get this tie off,” he smirked.  “And do hurry it up, so I can show you what happens when I get a checkmate.”

His apartment was, unshockingly, so much nicer than your dorm; so it wasn’t so odd that you spent most nights here each week.  Well, perhaps it was a little odd since you had practically moved in and you’d only been seeing him for a few months… but you were happy, and he was happy, and you were trying desperately not to overthink it.

Your schedule was carefully crafted so as not to include any Friday classes, but obviously as a professor his itinerary was a much more traditional 8-to-5 no matter the day of the week.  As a result, it was typical for you to lay around his place through most of the day, working on your laptop or occasionally mooching off of his HBO Max account.

You were doing just that when you heard the key in the front door, and you scrambled to turn the TV off so he wouldn’t think you were being lazy… but when he entered, you were still laying on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, so you didn’t exactly look productive either.

“Hey,” you greeted, sitting up and resting your arms on the back of the couch as he took his bag off his shoulder and hung up his jacket.

“Hey,” he mumbled in return, sounding a bit distracted and not even looking back at you.  You furrowed your brow as he sat down on the couch beside you, letting out a heavy breath and staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, pouting as you moved closer to straddle his lap and run your hands over his chest through his button-up.

“Well, the thing is,” he sighed, taking off his glasses with one hand to rub his eyes with the other, “tomorrow is my birthday.”

“Wh— that’s a good thing!” you scoffed.  “Let’s do something!”

“My fortieth birthday,” he clarified.  “Tomorrow, I will officially be twice your age.”

You sighed a bit.  “That really bothers you, doesn’t it…”

“Does it not bother you?  It should,” he snapped, deflating you instantly, and his tone softened.  “I’m sorry.  That was harsh… I just feel guilty, sometimes.  I wouldn’t want to take advantage—”

“I’m a grown adult, Helmut, I know I’m younger than you but I’m not a child and I can make my own choices.”

He nodded.  “You’re right.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“I…” he paused for a moment, chewing his lip slightly as he gathered his thoughts.  “I would just hate to see you regret this.  And I think, when you’re older, you will.”

“Let me worry about that,” you frowned.  “The future can be dealt with later, we should enjoy the present while we can.”

He laughed softly.  “I think I have an idea of what you consider ‘enjoying the present’...”

You smiled as you leaned in closer, holding his face to press your lips against his.  It was pretty innocent at first, until his hands began to rest at your waist and you sighed slightly, feeling your hips shift above him.  He grinned, teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip.

“What do you know?  I was right,” he whispered.  “You’re turned on already.”

It made your cheeks burn when he called you out like that, like he was mocking you for how easily he could make you desperate, and you looked away in embarrassment.  “I can’t help it!” you defended in a pout.

“I know,” he cooed, kissing your cheek and neck softly.  “I think it’s sweet, really.”

That made your cheeks burn even more, and you looked back at him again to find his brown eyes sparkling.  “Really?”

“Really.”

You trailed your fingers over his cheeks, scratching his beard a little bit which made him scrunch up his nose.  “Well, I think you’re sweet,” you giggled.  “And you know something else?”

He raised an eyebrow and you leaned in to speak closer to his ear.

“I think it’s sexy that you’re twice my age,” you whispered.  “Well, that tomorrow you’ll be twice my age.”

“Yeah?” he pressed, fingers just barely grazing over your skin as they trailed down your legs.

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving your hands to his chest where you started to slowly unbutton his shirt as he sighed.

“That explains why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of me,” he chuckled, looking down to watch your fingers brush over the patch of hair on his chest and toy briefly with the necklace he wore.  

“Well, that’s more just because I know how good you can fuck me, and I’ll never be satisfied by anything else,” you admitted, biting your lip.

“Darling, I don’t think you’re even satisfied by me… I already made you come this morning, don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, but that was different,” you pouted, “that was your fingers and it was right before you had to leave and I was still half-asleep…”

“Whatever it is that you want, draga, just say it,” he ordered in a whisper, holding the back of your neck and pulling you closer so you had to look back at him.

It was a lot harder to say with him staring right at you, but you swallowed and did your best.  “Need you to fuck me.  Wanna feel you inside me, please.”

His only answer was a quick nod before he kissed you, rough and dominating, letting you cling onto him while he stood up and carried you to the bedroom, falling with you onto the mattress.

He made a big show of kissing his way down your body, tearing your clothes out of the way on his path, eventually leaving you in only your panties which he examined with a grin as he held your legs open.

A shiver ran up your spine when he caught the lace in his teeth and used only a playful bite to pull them down your legs.  

Once the panties were off your ankles and he had tossed them aside with a flick of his head, he held your thighs as he dove right in, lapping at you hungrily while you moaned and your back arched.

He purred against you when your fingers wove into his hair and tugged slightly, but you honestly didn’t even mean to do it: you just needed to hold onto something to keep yourself from falling back into oblivion, and it seemed like a more attractive option than the bedsheets.

His lips attaching onto you and sucking your clit hard was already overwhelming in its own rite, but then two thick fingers began to push into you and it was impossible not to cry out, your bottom lip falling from where it had been caught between your teeth.

“Fuck!” you yelped, hips shaking and trying to rock up against his face as he curled the tips of his fingers against your spot right away.

“Close already, draga?” he cooed, words muffled since he didn’t fully pull his mouth away from your body before he spoke.  “I’ve only just started.”

You could only nod and feel your face heat up even more; at this point you had no right to be embarrassed by how sensitive you were when he’d already proven to you over and over that he could bring you to the edge in minutes.  But still, apparently some little shred of shame was still left in you, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was determined to train it out of you.

“If you’re close then now would be the time to start begging,” he reminded you as he moved his fingers faster and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue.

"Please, Helmut," you sobbed as you writhed uncontrollably, "I'm so close— fuck me, please, I want your cock."

"So you don't want to come on my fingers, then?  You don't want me to make you come with my mouth?"

"No, I want you to fuck me, please… you know I need to come around you."

Not one to let you down when you pleaded like that, he pulled his fingers out and suddenly flipped you onto your hands and knees, chuckling when you gasped.

“This is how you want it, isn’t it?” he presumed as you heard him finishing the undressing process behind you until you finally felt the head of his cock pressing against your soaking entrance.

“Yes,” you breathed, “just fuck me, please—”

You cut yourself off with a high-pitched noise when he shoved into you, this angle giving you no relief from how deep he was filling you.  One of his hands was beside yours, keeping him balanced upright above you, and you watched it tighten into a fist while the other slid up to hold your neck in a way that was simultaneously intimidating and soothing.

When he started to move, each stroke rubbed against your swollen spot and you struggled not to fall apart right there and then.

“So perfect,” he breathed right against your ear, almost like he was saying it to himself more than you, “you feel so fucking perfect, draga.”

Of course that would make your back arch even more, pushing him deeper into you in search of not only more friction within you but more of his praise whispered to you.

Soon it was you pushing back against him more than him fucking into you, and you felt his proud smile press against the curve of your neck.  “You need it that badly, darling?”

“Need you,” you whined back, not really capable of a full sentence at this point. 

“I know,” he whispered, soothing you with kisses all over your cheek and neck and shoulder.  “I know, poor thing, you just need to come, yes?”

Your mouth fell slack as you nodded, rocking back into him faster and more desperately than ever.

“You need me to make you come?”

“Yes, fuck, please!” you cried, hoping he wouldn’t get irritated with you becoming so demanding, but thankfully he obliged and held your body tight as he really fucked you then, hard and fast and completely unforgiving— exactly how you needed it.

Every part of your body seemed to tense up in time with each other: your toes curled, your hands gripped the sheets beneath you in fists, your walls fluttered and tightened around him.  

When you opened your mouth to speak, you genuinely didn’t know if you should expect a scream or a whisper.  What came out was somewhere in the middle, slightly choked and completely fucked-out.  “Please, don’t stop…”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to, draga,” he groaned, his fingers rubbing your clit roughly as he fucked you even harder, slamming into the deepest parts of you until you were choking on your own sobs.

"I— hng, Helmut, I'm—" you tried to warn him, but you couldn't even put a few words together.

"I know, darling," he cooed, "shh, just come, go ahead and come for me."

He sucked hard on your pulse as your legs quivered and your body gave out; if it weren’t for him holding you tight against him, you would’ve fallen on your face onto the bed (and you may not have even noticed if you did, since you were suddenly going numb and tingly everywhere).

Just past the ringing in your ears you could hear him muttering curses against your skin, in a few languages you didn’t speak, before switching back to English to praise you in a growl.  “I love feeling you come around me, draga, keep going— you’re squeezing me so tight that I can barely keep it together.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks from the force of it, and his hand reached up to wipe them away— a gesture much too tender considering the way he was pounding into you like he was out for revenge.

"Fuck, I'm close, so close," he breathed, grunting with every thrust into you.

"Come in me, I want it so bad, I need it…"

His teeth sunk into your neck, his lips sealing and sucking on the delicate skin, as he let out a muffled moan and began to fill you.  The warmth of it was always indescribable, but perfect; a heavy exhale of relief sunk from your chest out your lips.

You were able to stay like that for a long moment before he let you go and you inevitably fell limply onto the bed, just barely beginning to catch your breath and come back down to reality.

“Fuck, that’ll leave a mark,” you groaned as you rubbed where he’d bitten you, but you were smiling, too.

You watched him get up and stretch briefly; you were pretty impressed he was still energetic enough to do anything but collapse onto the bed beside you, though you certainly didn’t mind the view as he walked to the window and acquired a cigarette and his lighter.

“Isn’t smoking after sex a little stereotypical?” you chuckled softly.

He smirked back at you as he placed the end between his lips.  “It’s the only time I smoke, so I’m going to blame you for how many packs I’ve been going through,” he countered, words slightly muffled from holding the cigarette.  He struck his lighter and carefully lit the end, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke out through his nose.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t have such an… appetite, before you,” you admitted.

“You’d never had anything worth craving before,” he shrugged; how dare he be so casually cocky like that?  How dare he be so accurate?

Deciding you definitely needed a shower (though you would’ve loved to lay there catatonic for a while longer), you managed to sit up and get off the bed.  The only problem was that you severely overestimated the awakeness of your legs, and when you tried to stand on them, they buckled right away.

He dashed across the room to catch you, concerned at first but then smirking around his cigarette as he looked down at you in his arms.  "Are you alright, darling?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you nodded breathlessly, balancing on his arms as you found your footing.  "Thanks."

“You don’t need my help in the shower?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes as you laughed, letting go of his hands.  “We both know your ‘help’ isn’t going to get me clean.”

“You’ve got me there,” he admitted, raising his hands in relent as he returned to the window while you finished your delicate trek to the bathroom and reached into the shower to turn on the stream of hot water.

Though the shower thankfully did get the sweat off of you and (most of) the come out of you, it could never wash away the feeling of his touch, the little bruises in the shape of his lips or fingertips, and thank god that it couldn’t— your heart might break if they ever faded.

Of course, that made you start wondering which made you start overthinking (a common shower pastime for you) and suddenly a pang of fearful guilt started to throb in your gut as you wondered if your feelings were becoming too strong.  

You pushed the thought away and finished up your shower, deciding now was not the time to worry where this affair was going.  Didn’t you deserve to do something fun and crazy and a little bit dangerous for once?  At least you weren’t in his class anymore so what you were doing was less ‘wrong’ and more just ‘probably a bad idea.’

But this bad idea had been going on for a few months now and sometimes it felt like you were barreling towards an inevitable breaking point.  Could any relationship that began in the way yours had find longevity?  Is that even what you wanted?

Okay, so maybe you didn’t really manage to successfully stop worrying about it, and you sighed absent-mindedly as you dried off with a borrowed towel.  If anything could soothe your racing mind, it was coming back to the bedroom to find Helmut in bed, his cigarette finished and replaced with a book and his reading glasses.

The way he smiled when he saw you was infectious, and he extended his arm out in invitation for you to join him and, well, that offer was irresistible.

You beamed as you jumped onto the mattress, which had settled from its bouncing by the time you found a comfortable spot on his shoulder and lifted your leg to drape over his.  

Your head found a place on his chest while your fingers traced over it, trailing down at one point to his stomach where you delicately traced over the scars there— the ones you’d been too afraid to ask about before now.

“What happened?” you asked softly.  “The scars…”

“A dog mauled me when I was little,” he remembered flatly as he turned a page in his book.  

“Oh no!”

“Not as bad as it sounds, I can’t even remember it now,” he shrugged.

“Anything interesting?” you asked, motioning to the book and looking up at his profile as he returned to his thoughtful reading.

“Something horrifically boring,” he answered flatly, looking over at the bedside table when his phone vibrated on top of it.  Setting the book down and grabbing the phone instead, he squinted as he looked at the bright screen.

“What is it?” you asked after a brief struggle not to be nosy.

"Another professor in the department is offering to take me out for drinks, for my birthday," he explained as he examined the message.

"That's sweet of him," you smiled.  "You should go!"

"Well, actually it's a 'her,'" he corrected.

Oh no, there it was, stirring in your stomach: jealousy, for no good reason, with no right to start stirring in your chest.  Of course in your mind, this female professor was sexy and sophisticated in a way you couldn't be, someone who could keep up with his discussions about history and politics that you barely understood, someone who could do all those things you couldn’t do. 

Including, you know, going to bars… like the one she was inviting him to now, on the night of his birthday.

“Well that’s… nice,” you mumbled.  “Is it just you and her, or…?”

He paused as he processed the question, before suddenly smirking and setting his phone down to stare back at you.  “Do you think she’s asking me on a date?”

You couldn’t parse at first if he was asking you because he thought you were being ridiculous for thinking it, or because he genuinely wanted your perspective— as if he would be happy if she was.  It made a lump form in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow down.  “I… I don’t know, maybe?” you shrugged.  “How old is she?” you, morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

“I don’t know, 30-something?  Like I will be for the next—” he paused to puff his cheeks with a sigh and glance at his watch— “5 hours or so.”

You tried to hide your disappointment that he didn’t give a number like 60 or more.  “I don’t think you’re allowed to say 30 ‘something’ when the ‘something’ is 9,” you snorted.

“Okay, she’s in her late 30s then,” he decided.

“Well, that’s…” you trailed off. 

“What?” he pressed.

“I guess it’s probably a date, then,” you decided.

“It’s definitely not,” he shook his head.

“Does she know that?” you shot back, regretting it once you said it.

“Seriously?” he laughed.  “Do you think something is going to… happen between her and I, at this bar?”

“Well, maybe not at the bar, she’ll probably drive you to her place in her BMW or whatever,” you scoffed.

“Draga, she’s a history professor, she can’t afford a BMW,” he smirked, kissing your forehead.  

“Okay, but she has a car, and an apartment, and a job— you know, maybe she’s more ‘in your league’,” you proposed.

He laughed again.  “Yes, maybe she is.  And maybe you’re out of my league.  So I think we’ve established that it would be entirely uneconomic for me to be with her instead of you.”

You noticed the way he said ‘being with’ and not ‘date’ in reference to this.  Because you two weren’t, technically, dating, even if he did take you on what could be considered dates by most of the population.  “People do uneconomic things all the time,” you mumbled back, and he let out a little sigh as he looked down at you.

“Darling, I am entirely disinterested in pursuing another woman… as well as physically incapable.  I can barely keep up with you, how do you expect me to entertain somebody else?”

You swallowed, feeling a bit guilty for bringing it up at all.  “I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business,” you sighed, “I didn’t mean to ask you for anything, you can make your own decisions and I know we said this wasn’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted to hug you tighter, “you’re overthinking again.  I’m not going to sleep with someone else—”

“But I’m saying you could, if you wanted to, I’d just want you to tell me since we aren’t using condoms and we would probably just call it off—”

“Baby,” he smiled, making you look up at him as he reached down to hold your face in his hand, “I just want you.”

You choked on nothing in particular, feeling so vulnerable so suddenly.  “O-okay…”

He held your head close to his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, while you were still reeling from that statement; you didn’t know exactly what it meant— it certainly implied exclusivity, but not necessarily any romantic contexts, right?  To ‘want’ someone can mean a lot of things… sexual, mainly, which is what you assumed he was referring to.

And you were definitely not disappointed if he only wanted you in only that way, but you couldn’t swallow down the longing stirring inside you, the unforgettable knowledge that you wanted him in every way that could be meant.  Best of all, you wanted him all to yourself, but you were too self-conscious to bring up the exclusivity talk and you were too happy now to risk messing it all up with pesky emotions.  It was just amazing sex, between two people who thankfully managed to get along well outside the bedroom as well, and there was absolutely wrong with that.

If nothing else, you knew a lot more about history than you did a few months ago, so if it all ended tomorrow, at least you would have some fun facts about Sokovia to show for it.

When your friend Kacey told you there was a house party this weekend, you were originally going to say no… but the house in question was actually just down the block from Helmut’s apartment, so you knew if you hated it you could leave easily.  Maybe getting out would do you some good, and it was the same night that Helmut was going out with his friends for his birthday so the timing was convenient.  He encouraged you not to wait for him alone and bored all night; this seemed like the perfect way to avoid that.

And maybe if you were getting dressed up all sexy to go out to a party at the same time he was supposed to leave for the bar, you could convince him to ditch them and spend his birthday fucking you senseless.

When he caught a glimpse of you while he walked past the bathroom, he stopped suddenly and you grinned as you turned to face him.  "Whaddya think?" you asked proudly, letting him get an eyeful of your outfit.

“You look…” he trailed off, scanning the skin-tight dress with wide eyes.  “Do you always dress this way for parties?”

You shrugged.  “Most of the time, yeah.”

“Remind me to take you out more,” he nodded.  “Or never let you go out without me again.”

“You don’t think it’s too revealing, do you?” you teased, stepping closer.

“Oh no, don’t play that game with me,” he laughed.  “Don’t try to make me jealous just so I’ll get rough with you.”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  

“Does that tactic usually work on whatever boys you were seeing before me?” he smirked, and something about the way he called them boys made you feel all tingly and suddenly you were not the one in control anymore.  You nodded shyly and he stepped up to you, pulling you into a soft kiss.  You tried to deepen it but he moved back too soon, leaving you wanting more like he could do so effortlessly.  “I’ll see you tonight, have fun at your party.”

He left you with one more kiss, to your forehead this time, and you were almost more impressed than irritated at how he managed to make sure you’d be thinking only of him all night long.

Not too much later after he’d driven off, you left on foot for the party— though you definitely considered cancelling last minute and just moping around his apartment, staring forlornly out the window wondering when your husband former professor turned not-exactly boyfriend would return from the war bar.

But you had a point to prove to yourself, as well as Helmut and Kacey, and so you finished primping and found the walk rather pleasant in terms of scenery (if irritating in terms of fashion).

As far as house parties go, it wasn't quite a rager but not exactly a casual hangout either; you could hear the music from across the block, though faintly, as bass reverberated through the ground and into your platforms while your friend waved you down from the porch, calling your name.

She met you at the sidewalk just in front of the house, pulling you into a tight hug; you had been worried at first that you were overdressed (or, in a certain sense, underdressed), but her outfit was significantly more revealing than yours; a two-piece with her stomach and belly button piercing exposed.  

“You look hot,” Kacey beamed when she pulled back from the hug.

“You think so?  I’m a bit out of practice,” you admitted.

“Glad you could dust off the heels and join us,” she winked.

“Us?”

She glanced back towards the house.  “Yeah, Pia’s here— somewhere…”

Another junior in your major; as the most social girls in the computer science undergraduate stratosphere, the three of you were sort of forced to be friends, but thankfully it wasn’t for naught and you got along well.  Sometimes Kacey could be a bit… effervescent for your taste, in the sense that she was one of those bubbly outgoing types and had more energy than you knew what to do with.  Pia was more reserved but acquiescent, which meant she ended up pulled along on whatever adventures Kacey got herself into you.  And then there was you, who had been blowing them off every weekend with a list of increasingly-absurd excuses: sick dog, sick cousin, sick self (both migraines and menstrual cramps), heavy homework load— you know, the usual suspects— all in the name of hanging out with Helmut.

You considered yourself lucky that they still wanted to hang out with you, after you’d been AWOL this long, and you feared that they would understandably want an explanation.

Following Kacey inside the house, you tried not to wince at the volume of the music— a live band, it turns out, and not a very good one— and grabbed a stray drink from a table on your way to wherever you were being guided.

Pia was sitting on the arm of a couch, listening to a very stoned young man talk about the meaning of life and the universe, but she smiled when she saw you and Kacey, getting up to greet you.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in forever!” she frowned playfully, hugging you quickly.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled.  

“We should catch up!  How have you been?” she pressed, tilting her head.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna miss this TED talk?” you snorted, glancing over at the guy who had changed topics slightly and seemed to have confused string beans with string theory.

“I’ve heard better philosophy from the back of cereal boxes,” she laughed, but right as she said it the band finished their song and everyone glanced in your direction, including the heartbroken hippy himself.  “Uh, sorry,” she winced, and Kacey laughed as she guided the three of you away.

“I’m gonna get us some drinks, wait here,” Kacey decided once she found a new corner to lounge in, but Pia abandoned you soon afterward in search of a bathroom, leaving you to do what you did best at parties: stand around and avoid everyone’s attention.

You were surprised to hear your name from behind you, and when you whipped your head around you saw a tall guy with a wide smile looking down at you.

“Professor Zemo, right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Wh— what about him?” you stammered out.

“We had his class together,” he explained.  “I sat behind you.”

“Oh!” you smiled, relieved.  “Right, um, yeah…”

“Trey,” he finished for you.

“Trey!” you repeated, nodding.  “I knew that… hi, Trey, good to see you.”

“How’s life been treating you since you set the curve in that class?” he grinned.

“I don’t think he even graded on a curve,” you mumbled.  “But, um, good.  Just… livin’ it up,” you decided, cringing internally at your own wording.

“Yeah?  I haven’t seen you in any other history classes,” he noticed.

“Oh, I’m not a history major,” you explained quickly.  “Computer science.”

He chuckled incredulously, wrinkling his eyebrows.  “What were you doing in a history seminar?”

Fucking the professor.  “Elective,” you shrugged.  

“So you’re just a hobby history buff then?” he presumed.

“No, I actually kinda hate history, I prefer to live in the present,” you decided, “but, y’know, underwater basket-weaving didn’t have any seats left…”

He snorted out a laugh, a little too hard for the quality of the joke, and you realized this was probably flirting.  You’d never really seen it up this close, so you couldn’t be sure… and considering how he looked in his jeans with the shirt half-unbuttoned, you weren’t exactly mad about it…

But it made you feel sort of sick to your stomach.  It made you feel guilty, on behalf of Helmut but even moreso for Trey who was totally sweet and smart and deserved to be spending this energy on somebody who could appreciate it.

“Want another drink?  Looks like yours is almost empty,” he motioned to your red plastic cup.  

“Oh, um, I would but… I think my friends are coming over here,” you dismissed, hoping he would take the hint without taking it too hard.  He seemed to understand, giving you a nod and a wave before he disappeared into the crowd right as Pia grabbed your arm.

“Who was that?” she asked right away, giving you a look that you chose to ignore.

“Trey, he sat behind me in my history class last semester.”

“He’s cute,” Pia winked, leaning against the wall beside you.  “And definitely into you.”

“Well, that’s… good for him, I suppose,” you stammered.

“Are you gonna go for it?  Get his number?” she pressed.

“Uh, probably not,” you decided, “I’m gonna get another drink—”

Before you could walk away, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.  “Hey, what’s the deal?  You seem kinda out of it.”

“Oh, well, I just— I guess I’m not as much into the party scene as I used to be.”

“I’m using my psychology major mind-reading powers,” she warned, waving her fingers at you like she was casting some mystical spell while you leaned back and squinted.

“Um, that’s definitely not how that works—”

“You’re acting weird becaaauuuusee… you’re totally hung up on somebody else and feel guilty flirting with guys here even though you know you shouldn’t,” she announced, crossing her arms proudly when your dumbfounded expression gave away her accuracy.

“How did you—?”

“Lucky guess.  So who is it?!” she grinned.

“Uh—”

Kacey, summoned by the smell of gossip, seemed to appear from thin air at your other side.  “Who is who?” she smirked.

You glanced around at the crowded room of students and decided this was definitely not the place to talk about such an illicit affair, taking them by the hand and dragging them into a more private room of the house.  Finding a seat on a chair as the girls gathered around you (oddly reminiscent of a childhood storytime, except this story was going to be a lot more mature than those), you prepared to answer as many of their questions as you could.

As a European, Zemo was quite well-practiced at going out to bars with friends, but in America it was a very different experience.  It took him twice the alcohol to get half as drunk as his colleagues, meaning by the time he was feeling a decent buzz, everyone else had foolishly tried to keep up and ended up totally sloshed.

The person who had initially suggested this event (as well as the one you had foolishly felt some sort of jealousy for), Dr. Josten, had actually respected her own limits and left first while she was still good to drive, meaning Zemo was left only with men who couldn’t hold their liquor or their tongues.

Case in point, a bunch of his fellow professors were now trying to convince him to go up to the bar and flirt with a woman in a red dress.

“No, no way,” Zemo shook his head, “I’m not doing that.”

“You could totally take her home, just tell her it’s your birthday!” Professor Bram, from the English department, suggested with an elbow digging a bit too hard into Zemo’s side.

“Does that normally work?” he asked bewilderedly.

"I mean, not for me… but it could work for you!  Ladies love an accent."

“You’ve been teaching stateside for over a year now, Zemo, it’s time for you to experience American women,” one of them laughed.

“Who says I haven’t?” he mumbled to himself before another sip of his vodka, but unfortunately some of the others heard him as well and he got a playful punch to the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!  Was it just a hook-up or what?”

“No, I… well, I’m seeing someone, I suppose is the way to put it,” he clarified.

“How long?” Kacey asked you first, right away, as she leaned in excitedly.

“Um, a few months now,” you realized.

“No, I mean how long,” she smirked, gesturing with her hands to indicate length, and you snorted.

“Jesus, I’m not telling you that!”

“Buzzkill,” she rolled her eyes.

“Plenty long enough, that’s all I’ll say,” you laughed.

“How’d you meet her?” Professor Carpenter (another history department veteran) asked.  “I mean, you’re never anywhere but work… is it someone you work with?”

“In a sense…” Zemo trailed off.

“So, is he in one of your classes?” Pia wondered aloud.

“Um, he was, last semester,” you agreed.  It wasn’t false, by any means, but definitely not the entire truth, either.

"So, another lecturer,” Professor Chen (Zemo was about 80% sure he was in the political science department) nodded thoughtfully.  

“Gotta be somebody from the Women’s Studies department,” Bram smirked proudly, despite it not being a statement to be proud of at all.

“Or is it that woman here on the visiting scholar program, the temporary lecturer in neurology?” Carpenter jumped in.

“No, he said she was American, c’mon, keep up,” Bram frowned as he slapped Carpenter on the padded shoulder.

“Delta or Sigma?” Kacey squinted, like it was an interrogation.

“Not a frat guy, some of us have standards Kace,” you scoffed.

“Hey!” Pia gasped, offended on Kacey’s behalf.

“Nah, she’s right,” Kacey soothed.

“She’s not a lecturer, okay?” Zemo hissed, tired of having basically every department of the university listed to him (including some he didn’t realize existed).  “She’s not faculty.”

“...staff?” Chen posited.

“What, you mean like the janitor?  No, not staff,” Zemo rolled his eyes.  “I shouldn’t have said anything.  It’s none of your business.”

“It doesn’t matter!  What’s with the secrecy?”

“I haven’t told anyone about it yet, and I don’t think I’ve had enough alcohol to start now,” he frowned.

“Which of your classes was he in, then?” Pia asked, shifting her line of questioning (and unfortunately looking in the right direction).

“Um, that history thing I took last semester,” you answered.

“That guy from before was in your history class!  Should we just ask him who it is?” Pia grinned mischievously.

You cursed yourself for giving away too much.

“I’ll go find him and see if he’s going to give us more to work with you than you,” Kacey decided, already standing up to walk out of the room.

“No, wait!” you yelped, pulling her back; you didn’t want to tell them anymore, but you couldn’t afford if someone like Trey found out.  Telling Kacey and Pia wasn’t ideal, but at least they could be trusted with a secret.  “I’ll tell you, okay?  Fuck, I don’t even know how to say this…”

Chen tossed up his hands in defeat.  “Alright, the only reason you could be so weird about this is if it’s somebody totally forbidden—”

Zemo’s chest tightened as he worried they would figure it out.

“Like, I don’t know, an adjunct or something.”

“An adjunct?  Are you out of your mind?” Zemo spat.

“Hey, no judgment in brainstorming,” Carpenter defended.

“You think I would be this protective about it if it was an adjunct?” Zemo continued.

“Listen, we’re not gonna think less of you, whatever it is— and we’re not gonna tattle on you,” Bram assured.  “Just get it off your chest while the liquor’s flowing, half of us aren’t even gonna remember it tomorrow anyways.”

“I’m dating a professor,” you blurted out.

“She’s a student,” he finally interjected, the entire table suddenly going dead silent.

“...a grad student?” one of them pressed, making Zemo swallow uncomfortably.

“Um, no… she’s actually… twenty,” he admitted.

“Holy shit,” Pia gasped.  “You actually did it…”

“We bow to your hoe powers,” Kacey spoke reverently, clasping her hands as if in prayer.  “We’ve all dreamed of bagging a hot professor and now you made it a reality.  Please, O Queen, teach us in your ways.”

“It’s not like that,” you defended.

“Is she at least getting a better grade out of you for it?” Carpenter joked.

“No, it’s not like that,” he dismissed, “she passed my class with flying colors quite some time ago.”

“Okay, but was that before or after you slept with her?”

“It was irrelevant to the fact that I slept with her.”

“So, after,” Chen assumed with a smirk.

“Yes, after,” Zemo finally admitted, “but she’s not my student anymore.”

“Is she your girlfriend then?”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek.  “We… haven’t really had that conversation yet.  I keep meaning to, but then… one thing always seems to lead to another…”

“Oh really?” Pia grinned.  “So what’s he like?”

“Sensitive…” you mumbled right away, “patient, weirdly funny though I don’t think he realizes it.”

“I know I’m going to sound like every creep who ever preyed on young women, but she’s very mature for her age,” Zemo explained.  “Incredibly thoughtful.  Wise beyond her years.”

“No, no,” Johnston shook his head, “what’s she like.”

"It's nothing like how it is with guys our age,” you gushed, clutching your blanket tighter to your chest.  “He's so attentive, and sensual, and he can go for hours," you explained as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip at the memories playing on repeat in your mind.

"You must understand that she's nothing like women our age, at least not any that I've met," he nodded as his friends set down their drinks to lean in close.  He was sure this was more attention than he'd ever gotten for one of his lectures.  "She's… insatiable.  She wants to go again and again and I'm just trying to keep her from getting injured or something, poor thing."

"So she likes it rough?" one of them presumed with a toothy grin.

"She's so inexperienced she doesn't really know what she likes yet.  She's learning with me.  So we try everything."

"Everything?" one of the girls repeated as she widened her eyes.

Your face warmed up as you cleared your throat.  "I mean… yeah…"

"So, anal?"

You choked on nothing, which said more than any answer could.

"I shouldn’t talk about this with you,” he decided, shaking his head.

“Come on, you don’t have to tell us everything, just give us something to work with here,” Carpenter pleaded.  

“I don’t want to know what you mean by work with,” Zemo shuddered.

“At least tell us how you got her to sleep with you,” Chen compromised.

“Or let us do a guest lecture in your class so we can try to find our own undersexed sorority girls,” Bram added.

“Jesus, how many times do I have to say it’s not like that?” you frowned.  “I’m not turning this into some fucked up teacher-student dating service.”

“You keep saying what it isn’t like but you won’t tell us what it is,” Kacey noted.  “I mean, is it serious?”

“All I can say for sure is that I feel pretty serious about it,” Zemo tried to explain.  

“...are you in love with her?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly deciding now was the perfect time to finish his drink.

“Love?” you repeated, voice cracking.  “I don’t… know about that,” you stammered.

But the really upsetting thing was that you did know, and you hadn’t let yourself think about it until now.  It hadn’t been long enough to justify feelings like that, and the last thing you wanted to be was the naïve girl who caught feelings when all the guy was looking for was sex.

“It’s not just sex,” he announced.  “It’s something really real.   I didn’t know that I could—”

He stopped himself.

“I haven’t felt this way since—” he began, but stopped again.  “I don’t know.  Just, be careful how you talk about her.”

“Oh, you’re really whipped,” Bram chuckled.

“She’s incredible; you’d understand if you met her.”

“Then let us meet her!”

For a moment, he actually considered it; he wasn’t sure if you thought that you were at the ‘meeting friends’ stage, and considering the cultural difference it was going to be a unique one for sure.  Would you ask him to hang out with your friends?  He didn’t even know what that would look like.

“She seems like someone worth getting to know,” Bram agreed, and Zemo grimaced at the predatory look in his eyes.

“Fuck off,” he sneered, and Chen patted him on the back.

“Good move.  I’d be keeping her to myself, too… otherwise she might end up upgrading to a tenured professor like myself,” he beamed.

“Better watch out before Chen here steals your girl, Zemo,” Carpenter warned.

“She can’t be stolen,” Zemo assured.

“Yeah, you say that now…” Bram trailed off.

“Care to finish that sentence?” Zemo snarled.

“Well, think of it this way.  Most students wouldn’t fuck their professor,” Bram explained.  “But those that would, usually wouldn’t only fuck one.”

He didn’t punch him in the face because it was crude.  Sure, that was a factor, but it wasn’t the real reason.  He punched him in the face because it sounded like it actually made sense.

He punched him in the face because he couldn’t understand why it made him so angry; so what if he was just one of your exploits?  What difference did it make?  After all, you’d just said the night before that he was free to pursue others, and he couldn’t quite appreciate yet why that didn’t feel like freedom at all.

From a certain point of view, he knew he should just appreciate that you were with him at all, irrelevant to whoever else you might be with or would potentially be with in the future.  But from another, and much more salient, point of view, he wanted you all to himself.  And he hated that.

Like all good anger, his anger in that moment was born of fear, and he’d never been so afraid that he was just the lucky target of your promiscuous phase.  As selfish as it was, he wanted to think of himself as more than that.

And now that he was getting thrown out of a bar on his own birthday, contemplating the paperwork he would have to fill out tomorrow after punching a coworker tonight, he’d never thought of himself as less.

Much to your delight, he returned relatively early for a guy coming back from a bar on his birthday— 11:57 p.m., specifically— but it made sense for him being a responsible professor and all.

Well, mostly responsible.  After all, he still had his former student waiting for him when he got back, perched on the couch expectantly.  As fun as the third degree had been with Kacey and Pia, you wanted to be here when he got back— and now that they finally understood the real reason you were leaving early, they were more than supportive (perhaps a little too supportive, with their rather graphic suggestions and… hand gestures).

You didn’t stay on his couch for long, though; you got up and met him at the door as he slipped off his coat and hung it up nearby.

“How was your night out?” you asked softly, reaching up to rub his chest through his shirt.

“Um, it was good,” he nodded, “I missed you though.”

“I missed you, too,” you sighed.  “I was here all by myself thinking about the present I want to give you.”

“I told you not to get anything for me,” he remembered, gasping slightly when you pushed him back against the door.

“Just be gracious and accept your gift, okay?” you whispered, starting to kneel down and open his belt.

“O-oh,” he breathed.

You palmed his cock through his trousers, biting your lip as you felt it swelling already.  “I didn’t wrap this gift… and I forgot to get you a card to go with it.”

“Somehow I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you,” he chuckled, though his smile dropped when you pulled his cock out and stroked it slowly.  You had meant to tease him a bit but you found yourself sucking on the head already, too desperate for even your own plans; not that he had any issue with it, you could hear his breathing quicken as you bobbed your head slowly and stroked what your lips couldn’t reach.

He was still getting harder and the feeling of it on your tongue was so hot it was almost distracting, it made you want to reach down under your dress but you knew you were going to need your full attention on him if you were going to do this properly.

Closing your eyes, you kept taking him deeper and deeper until your lips met the base of his cock while his tip was lodged deep down your throat.

“Fffuck,” he hissed, “where did you learn how to do that?”

You pulled back and took a breath, stroking his cock as you responded.  “I’ve been practicing, all for you.”

It made his cock flex in your hand to imagine you gagging on your fingers or a toy in hopes of learning how to deepthroat him, let alone to know that it worked.

You took him in your mouth again, swirling your tongue around his slit until he reached down to grab your hair— not hard enough to guide your movements, he was still letting you set your own pace, but hard enough to tug at the roots and make you moan around him.  Slowly, you sunk down again, humming and swallowing around him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re too fucking perfect,” he sighed, watching closely as you pulled off of him even slower, running your lips and tongue over every part of him.  “You— fuck, you really don’t need to do this.”

“I want to,” you breathed, darting your tongue out to give a wide lick to his head.  “I’m already so wet just from this, Helmut… I want you to fuck my face.”

“Shit,” he cursed, gripping your hair tighter.  “You’re sure?”

You smiled and nodded.

“Then open your mouth."

Never one to turn down an instruction like that, you let your mouth fall slack and hummed a bit as he pushed his cock forward past your waiting lips.  After that it was just a matter of letting your throat relax and focusing on your limited chances to breath as he held your head and guided you.  

Whatever discomfort came from having your throat filled so deep was heavily outweighed by the incredible feeling of being used— it sounds debasing, but the way he stammered out praises made you feel anything but degraded.

“So good,” he grunted, “look up at me, darling, show me how good you look choking on me— fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

You were trying to be sexy, here on your knees in this tight dress and heels, but he had you feeling small and delicate saying things like that.

“Such a good girl,” he breathed; you had to shut your eyes then because you couldn’t hear that and look up at him or you were going to end up having to throw these panties out.

The volume of his moans was one thing, but the desperation in them was another; and both of them made it clear he was close, and you wanted to finish him off like this more than anything.

“Fuck— I’ll come,” he warned, “is that what you want?  To swallow it?”

You hummed in appreciation, hoping that would get your message across well; and it certainly seemed to, considering he bucked up into your throat more erratically than ever, moaning loudly with each thrust.

Hot come painted the back of your throat, so deep you never really got a chance to consider the taste although you imagined a night of drinking wouldn’t have done him any favors there.  Not that you minded; it was him and that was enough to make you moan with delight as he filled your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pumps of come slowing down to a stop as he relaxed against the door and caught his breath.  The moment of calm didn’t last as you started to gently suckle on his softening cock, making him tense up and suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.  “Nonono,” he chuckled breathlessly, pulling you off of him as you smiled mischievously, “it’d be a shame if I died on my birthday.”

“But what a way to go, hm?” you laughed as he helped you up from the floor.  “Not your birthday anymore anyways,” you noted, tapping on his watch, “it’s 12:02.”

“I hope you don’t think that means the party’s over,” he smirked, picking you up suddenly, making you laugh in surprise as he started to carry you to the bedroom.  “I’m officially a man in his forties with something to prove, so we’ll be going all night, draga.”