#he of course strong armed his way into illegally staying with us until she died

[nightmarist]

My fathers been getting drunk every single weekend for the past five years bc he feels bad abt my mom dying and gets increasingly worse every week. My brother in Christ, you’re the one who abused her.

He came in drunk off his ass wanting to bleed his feelings at me and I’m just not fucking having it.

[boop-le-snoot]

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previously on...

This chapter is very dialogue heavy. Stephen Strange being a little bit of a dick and Tony being a sweetheart. No warnings here, just plot and worldbuilding. I think Tony is his own warning to be honest... Do we want fun facts before each chapter like before or nah?

Sorcerer Strange stared at me with the heat of a plasma beam after I finished stuttering throughout my story, one accurate eyebrow raised and sharp cheekbones painting him displeased and dangerous in the yellow light of the store lamps. The whole experience shook me more than I would have liked to admit to myself and his mute reaction wasn't helping matters at all.

"Hmph," he finally cleared his throat, taking a step back and casting a thoughtful look over the shelves in the store. "You did all you could. Perhaps, we owe you gratitude," his tone was far kinder than his face. "How long have you been doing... This?" He vaguely gestured with a gloved hand.

"Long enough," I replied without thinking. My stress levels urgently rose above acceptable and the feelings needed to be let out now; Wong's dismissive attitude and Strange's half-assed apology for the attitude was still fresh in my mind.

The sorcerer sighed, briefly touching the bridge of his nose. "I won't pretend to understand the reason for your hostility but I'd like to remind you we're on the same side here," his steely blue eyes attempted to peer into my soul.

"There are no sides here," whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying it. "There are just people who get hurt, either because of unstable maniacs with superpowers or aliens who think Earth is an all-you-can-kill buffet," I stuck my dirty, bloody hands in my pockets. "You do your part in mitigating the damage, I do mine. That's all there is."

"And you would be making my job expotentionally harder if you get in the way and slow down professionals, even if you mean well," the man's temper had, evidently, won over and he immediately got on the defensive, crossing his arms and trying to glare me down.

Odette's words rang true, starting a storm of hollow anger in the pit of my skull. "Now listen here, you privileged prick," the damn burst at the seams as I squared up to give him a piece of my mind. "You and your Hogwarts rejects and the merry band of billionaires may have the opportunity to 24/7 healthcare and near-instant compensation for any damages the villain of the week decides to bestow upon your shallow little heads," I advanced half a step towards Strange, hands bailed into tight fists, internally rejoicing at the way he leaned back. My blood sang with adrenaline as I breathed the exhilaration.

"But how many people do you overlook? How many children never make it because your super secret organisation gives their parents an ultimatum just because they are different? This is a safe space for the ones you pretend not to see until it's convenient and it will stay that way, over my fucking dead body, if need be," I stared at the tall man, almost physically feeling his brain halt and pause with the cartoony sound of screeching tires. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, both of us waiting for the other to explode.

"Don't you think I am aware," Strange finally seethed through gritted teeth, alarming golden sparks shining in his eyes. "The Avengers are not under the rule of SHIELD and I, personally, have no affiliation with either. I do not condone their barbaric methods," the man was struggling to form his sentences properly but even despite that, I understood his ideas.

I desperately wanted to believe his words to be true, I really did, but... "Then do your fucking job and let me do mine. I do not go out there and intervene, I merely clean up the mess you all leave. Something that nobody wants to do do, so unless you've got any takers, I'll keep helping those you deem unfit," in a fit of muted rage, I flew my arm to point at the abandoned cars and destroyed concrete outside of the window, the empty street and the clouds of dust rising into the moody skies.

The entrance door flew open suddenly, with a force strong enough to bang the heavy, old handle against something outside, letting in the stuffy air inside the bodega. Strange jumped at the sound of the screaming hinges, my own heart skipping a beat from the startling interruption.

Visibly composing himself, the man pierced me with a final stare before starting a dangerously quiet, "Very well, goodbye," and hightailing it out of Odette's before disappearing in a golden circle just outside the front porch.

I let my shoulders sag for a brief moment of respite, feeling the tension bleed out of me and penetrate every nook and cranny in the room. My protection charms were mostly destroyed, silver dull, glass and amber crackled. Tossing them into the appropriate recycling bin, I set to clean up the shop, flying through the motions in record time and wandering home through the damaged streets on autopilot.

My anger had cost me more than a fortune in my past but no matter how much I sought to reason with myself, I couldn't bring it to justify Strange's attitude towards my choices. The more I thought about it, the less rational my guesses became; I forced myself to stop thinking about it when my brain had unhelpfully supplied an absurd notion of him being jealous of my lifestyle: he knew next to nothing of my skills and his opinion was based solely on seeing me work the store front and one cleansing spell I'd performed on Bucky. There was simply no rational explanation for his behaviour.

NYC life wasn't affected by the battle in the slightest, it seemed; a day and a half later, I was back at Jeremy's, serving overpriced hot beverages to the rich and the busy. I'd slept on the Bucky and Strange situation, got a handle on my feelings and decided to simply put it away. There were other, more pressing things to worry about than a couple of men.

I didn't expect the flood of anxiety that turned my hands to lead upon seeing Tony Stark's signature suit-and-sunglasses wearing ass waltz into the café. He flashed me his usual easy grin but didn't remove his glasses, eyes eerily blank behind them, as he motioned for his usual order before leaning on the countertop with the entirety of his upper body. "So, Starshine, what is it exactly that you do?" Came the question I was dreading. "Are you, like, a witch? The broomstick and cauldron kind?"

"Mr. Stark, I am serving you coffee and a muffin as we speak," I replied curtly, raising an eyebrow.

"Drop the act, honeybuns. I thought we were friends," if I squinted, I could see that he was genuinely hurt by my lack of desire to communicate. Or, perhaps, he simply was unused to not satisfying his curiosities immediately.

Either way, I stood no chance against Stark patented puppy eyes. "I clock out at two," a sigh of epic magnitude left my mouth against my will. "You can interrogate me then. Until that, it's lattes and cheesecakes only."

Tony narrowed his eyes, smile warming up by a smidgen. "Interrogate you? Never," he pocketed the napkin with Dr. Banner's scribbles the doc had forgotten last time. "I'm merely curious." Another flash of his teeth and he was gone, taking what little peace I had left along with him.

The hands on the clock made their hurried rounds over and over. My chest had grown it's own set of ticking, grinding, mismatched gears as the endless possibilities coursed a steady stream through my head. Tony Stark was a wild card, his struggles with authority a widely known fact, as frequent as his strange habits in just about anything. And while I doubted I would get ambushed and locked up, I had no qualms of him berating me for telling off his boyfriend. He seemed like the possessive, overprotective type, anyways.

As soon as I exited the café, surrounded by the smells of flour and coffee grounds, my eyes immediately landed on the shiny, brand new Audi illegally parked right in front of the establishment, it's owner leisurely leaning against the hood with a face of contented boredom as passerby pedestrians shamelessly ogled him and his ride. His face lit up as he noticed me, immediately rushing to hold the passenger side door open for my comfort. "M'lady," the dorky remark didn't fail to summon a smile to my face even if it was a weak shadow of my usual camaraderie.

"Mr. Stark," I greeted him as soon as he peeled off the crowded sidewalk.

The lack of joy on my face didn't go unnoticed by him and every now and then, he snuck a glance at my face. "Relax, Starshine, I won't bite."

"Well," I mumbled, remembering the vicious way I had torn into his boyfriend. "Good to know."

Seeing as that didn't do much for my nerves, he suddenly swerved right, rushing into a busy intersection with the ease of a practiced manic driver. "I'm feeling like a cheeseburger," he announced unceremoniously, pulling into a parking lot of some place I never noticed.

I doubted that I could swallow anything at all but relented, sitting down opposite him in the furthest booth from the entrance. I ordered the biggest milkshake they had as Tony grinned big at the waitress, finally taking off his sunglasses when she left for the kitchen.

I rested my elbows on the table under the scrutiny of his gaze. He kept quiet. I couldn't hold back my curiosity any more. "So?"

His sharp, clever brown eyes captured and held mine for the longest second in my life. I struggled not to break eye contact until he relented, focusing on the shine of my rings instead. "RoboCop almost died from the shit that happened to him," Tony's words were curt. I inhaled sharply, assuming he was talking about Barnes. The engineer's fingers began to fiddle with his glasses. "We couldn't figure out how you helped him. Not the medical, not Banner, not me and and not even Steph," he paused to run a hand through his hair. "Barnes was hit with a poisoned arrow. There were no toxins left in his body, not even a single inflammation marker showed up on the tests." With that, Tony expectantly turned to me.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Magic," I simply answered, figuring Strange had already briefed him about my occupation.

Tony shook his head with a snort. "Magic that the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't recognize or cannot detect?" The question was saved in nature.

Stephen Strange was Sorcerer Supreme and I had pissed him off and remained alive. I couldn't believe my luck, if Odette's stories were anything to go by. Inwardly rejoicing, I nonetheless resigned to answer truthfully. "Because there is nothing to detect, no foreign energy," I tried to phrase it in a way a scientist could understand. "What I use to heal, it is given me by nature and willingly. Think of me as a... Conductor. I merely store the energy short-term and direct it where it is needed."

That sparked a visible interest in Tony. He leaned forward, running my whole form, over and over, with his sharp eyes, searching for something I knew he wouldn't find. "Like... Making a blood transfusion?" It was obvious that he was thinking hard about the subject. "Like a successful organ transplant?"

"Something like that," I agreed amicably, seeing as he was talking at himself rather than engaging in a conversation with me.

"But it doesn't come from nothing, the first law of thermodynamics..." He started off in slight confusion.

"Yes, the total amount of energy remains constant," I interrupted him, making his eyes widen. "It's all around us, Mr. Stark. You cannot see it, and most people even cannot feel it, but mother Earth supports her creations. More than we like to think," the corner of my mouth tilted upward at the memories. Working with Gaia directly was like being briefly submersed in a cocoon of pure, warm sunshine; like being held in mother's arms as a babe. "She is kind and she is merciful, especially to the ones whose suffering is unjust," I let the man mull over my words.

The waitress brought our orders; my throat was parched, I took a few haste gulps of the chocolate milkshake. Tony's burger, however, remained unnoticed and untouched.

"Earth is a sentient organism?"

The question made my eyebrows rise; I coughed slightly, meeting his confused eyes with a smirk. "Mr. Stark, keep your science headcanons to yourself," the banter came easily now that the status quo was established.

He rolled his eyes, fitfully resisting the smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm telling on you to Mean Green," there was no malice behind his words.

I doubted the shy scientist would do much more than stutter out two jumbled questions but let the topic slide in favour of closing up on the issue. "Would you call a wolf sentient? No," I shook my head. "But it is autonomous, it has free will. Think of it like that," I wasn't really up to par on explaining Tony all the ins and outs of my craft. The more I spoke, the more questions danced in his eyes. It was charming but not something I wanted to spend most of my day on.

"I won't pretend to be anything but sceptical but as it is, I happen to be dating a wizard," the engineer finally chortled, making hands for his burger. He made a vague gesture with his fork, expression still not-quite out of the thinking place.

"They say opposites attract," I shrugged.

"Romanoff keeps saying we're two sides of the same coin, so," he non-commitally shrugged in return. "Can't help but wonder what the fuck did you tell him that day. He was seething," Tony raised an eyebrow, tone teasing.

"Oh lord," I briefly palmed my face. "Here comes the shovel talk."

"No, no," a fry landed on the table in front of me. I snatched it right from under Tony's hand. He pouted. "He probably deserved it. I mean, you saved the Terminator and, honestly," he paused. "I heard about one third of his rant and I distinctly remember something about 'girls way over their heads' and whatnot," he did a poor imitation of his boyfriend's deep voice. "Now, I consider myself a feminist so, respectfully, I disagree," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

I blanked, trying to process the avalanche of information. "That's a lot to unpack," I acquiesced.

"It means he likes you. I would know," the man had the audacity to wink at me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Tony Stark.

"Are you hitting on me for your boyfriend?" I couldn't resist snarking back, briefly catching his eyes as I polished off my milkshake.

Tony looked at me through his thick, long lashes, a picture perfect visage of surprised innocence. "Maybe," his tone a little too south of friendly, the direction of his eyes a bit lower than my face.

The snort escaped me before I could put a stop to it. The banter - it was easy, comforting in this situation where I found myself to be akin a fish out of water. Like I was a slightly socially awkward witch, Tony was a genius engineer and a notorious flirt. He toed the lines of appropriate with practiced gusto and I hadn't had the heart to do anything but indulge in a little bit of harmless fun ever since he first stepped foot in the café, seeing right through his stone cold facade of an alleged womaniser. Call it a hunch, if you will.

Say what you want about Tony Stark but one thing was definite: he was a gentleman. I thoroughly enjoyed my ride home in his expensive, fast, latest model car. As the city streets zoomed by in a flurry of blurred lines and flashing colorful lights, I allowed my mind to finally calm and resume it's usual even wandering pace.

A hand loosely thrown over the steering wheel, Tony quietly hummed along to the music, playing with the hem of his tee whenever it wasn't occupied with driving the car. He looked so peaceful like that.

The sound system played some contemporary rock that blended in with the moderately busy afternoon of the NYC streets, submerging the surroundings in catharsis. Grey everything with the occasional burst of colour from a traffic light; the brief car ride lulled me into a state almost drowsy.

"You with me, Salem?" Tony's voice quietly took me out of my stupor.

I blinked, seeing the front door of my apartment building. "Yeah, yeah, thanks," I didn't resist the big, wide smile of relief and rejoiced upon seeing his face return to his normal expression, sparkling and mischievous. "That's my stop," I motioned lamely.

Something hung in the air, something unsaid. It leaked through the gaps between Tony's smile and his eyes, it filled up the car with something thick and foggy. I was powerless to stop its influence on me; the daze remained just as it was when we zoomed through city streets.

Tony's fingers twitched on the steering wheel as I exited the vehicle, giving him a short wave before he put pedal to the metal, quickly disappearing into the twilight. I watched his tail lights glow red amongst the flat blacks and greys and beiges of my surroundings, blinking away the dryness in my eyes only when the car disappeared from my view completely.

My apartment was just as I'd left it, warm and slightly messy- but a new feeling had crawled up from the very gutter of me, foreign and impending. The walls didn't breathe the comfort I had hoped I would finally find: if anything, none of what I encountered on my rapid beeline towards the couch felt real.

I'd grown accustomed to the comforts of my solitude and routine, to attached to the simplest task of being. Sorting through my dirty laundry had never been a favourable ordeal for me, I'd much rather lived in a relatively wide bubble- rationally, I knew that sooner or later, change had have to come, but there was nothing ever rational about having feelings on one matter or another.

My spirit was trying to tell me big things were coming and I had no choice but to listen and let the currents of fate and happenstance snatch me up and take me whichever way they pleased.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think. 

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena​ for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe! 

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

 "I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers. 

 Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass. 

 Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends. 

 Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her. 

 She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness. 

 As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

 Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

 "No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

 "Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

 "Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. 

 Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

 "What was that?"

 "Nothing."

 "What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck. 

 "Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile. 

 Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped. 

 Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

 "Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

 "Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

 Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend. 

 "You know I would."

 "Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

 The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

 Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her. 

 She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section. 

 As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it. 

 Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright. 

 She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation. 

 Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery. 

 In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.  

 As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure. 

 He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop. 

 Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

 ...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him. 

 His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke. 

 "Are you drunk?"

 His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response. 

 "What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

 His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator. 

 "Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side. 

 "Wha...what?" 

 He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

 A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right? 

 She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical. 

 Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking? 

 Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed. 

 The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer. 

 For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap. 

 All she knew was in the moment….it felt right. 

 "Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass. 

 Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life. 

 But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again. 

 Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed. 

 Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed. 

 "Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames. 

 Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on. 

 "Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. 

 Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened. 

 "What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

 "What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. 

 "Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

 He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

 Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips. 

 "You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator. 

 "Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom. 

 She whined, "please…" 

 Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her. 

 "Kari!"

 She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her. 

 "It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away. 

 Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

 He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

 "I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

 His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips. 

 "Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper. 

 A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.  

 "Stay." He whispered against her lips. 

 "I can't…"

 "I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core. 

 "Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

 Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him. 

 "KARI!"

 She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes. 

 "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

 "I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends. 

 Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory. 

 For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed. 

 Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too. 

 Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove. 

 "What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

 "What?" 

 "No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

 Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

 "Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

 "Um, no... we...he didn't say his name." 

 "Gods, you are so stupid sometimes." 

 Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

 "Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant. 

 "You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

 The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?" 

 "Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled. 

 Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

 "Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued. 

 She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that. 

 Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends. 

 She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too. 

[peachyteez]

death’s grip ≫ DAY FIVE, YES.

the tiger hybrid managed to escape from south korea’s top illegal hybird ring fights. of course, they didn’t let him go so easily. losing his chasers in a forest, covered in blood—his and others’—he decided to accept his fate of death from his wounds until a female and two other hybrids managed to take him from death’s grip.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminbluee, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @deep-ocean-dweller, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight

can’t be tagged: @yoongisleftboob

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to the list! :)

✧ notes: perhaps i kinda teared up while typing this up...

✧ WARNINGS: mentions of killing, death, and blood

back。| next。

“what do you mean, you know?” jiyu asked. she definitely isn’t expecting the news this early in the morning.

“they told me yesterday,” hongjoong explained. “how i almost...died.”

jiyu didn’t say anything, only letting out a small sigh before dryly chuckling. “that would explain why they were so nice yesterday at home.” she did find it strange how seonghwa and yunho were so behaving and nice when they came home the previous evening. 

sensing her shift in mood, hongjoong worried that they had upset her and that the two could end up getting punished because of him. “wait, please don’t punish them—”

jiyu’s eyes widened at his words and she put her hands up in front of her. “woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, hongjoong. i’m not mad nor am i going to punish them,” she reassured. she softly smiled. “they didn't do anything wrong. i was actually trying to find a way and time to tell you without upsetting you, but i guess they beat me to that.”

hongjoong shifted his gaze out to the window. “you, know...they helped me open my eyes a little,” he meekly admitted. intrigued by his words, jiyu took a seat on the chair next to the bed. “i don’t know what they went through, but they seemed to have put their faith in you. i’ll be honest, at first, i didn’t know why—why trust humans again when all they’ve done is inflict both mental and physical pain on you? but...they seemed so earnest to defend you when i asked why you never told me i almost died.”

jiyu intently listened.

“and surprisingly enough, i couldn’t be mad at you for keeping that from me. even though i thought you were trying to defend my former owners by keeping my potential death a secret. i think deep down, i had unconsciously given you my trust a long time ago. i was just too prideful to admit or acknowledge it.”

jiyu licked her lips before carefully explaining her intentions. “you had just woken up a few days ago and i didn't want to suddenly drop the bomb on you that you were literally teetering between life and death. you could’ve gotten too emotional to think rationally and hurt yourself and others on accident...that’s why i kept it,” she slowly reached up and gently rested her hand on his head. he didn't flinch away. “but i guess, in a way, i was trying to defend humans, too. it would’ve been hypocritical of me to tell you that you almost died from humans when i’ve been telling you that there’s good ones out there,” she wryly smiled. 

“but never forget. i always had your well-being in mind, hongjoong. i never had reasons to hurt or go against you.”

hearing her confession, along with relief, hongjoong felt a small tug of guilt in his gut. he never told her who he was or where he came from. his presence in her life could be a danger, yet he never said anything. 

he took a deep breath before looking into her eyes. “i used to be part of an illegal hybrid ring fighting group.”

jiyu’s eyes widened again. searching his face for any signs of a joke, she found none. but she did notice his hesitance on continuing. “you don’t have to—”

“no...i think you should know,” he insisted before taking a deep breath. “i was part of the...blood pirates.”

jiyu could’ve sworn she almost fainted right there and then. blood pirates? that one illegal organization that never got caught? the one that illegally collected hybrids for their fights? she had so many questions. how did he escape? where were the blood pirates based?

hongjoong told her everything. “my parents were also part of the blood pirates. but there was a catch...i had to kill them as my final test for my training. i had to kill them...or they would kill all three of us.”

jiyu gasped in horror. hongjoong took a deep breath and continued. “after that, i locked all my emotions away. i lost touch with myself and i just...killed. i killed one after the other with no remorse. i thought that’s how life worked—only the strongest could survive, and that’s how i managed to survive for the past who knows how many years,” his ears drooped in sadness at recalling such chilling memories. “i hated it. the chanting and cheers of the crowd, the look of my opponent’s face right before the life slipped out of their eyes, how my hands were stained red after—” his voice broke with emotion. peering over at his face, jiyu realized he was holding in his sobs.

“i didn’t want to kill them...” he whimpered, staring down at his hands. hands that had once been stained with the blood of his opponents as he fought for his life. “i just fought to live. to see the sunrise the next day. but then i remember that they couldn’t; they couldn’t see the sunrise like i could. they weren't in the basement with me anymore. instead,  they come back in my dreams, and i hear their voices haunting me. i’m a monster. a killer.”

listening to hongjoong and watching him bring his knees up to his chest as he cried, her heart broke. no one should have to go through that. no one should have to fight just to see the next day...no hybrid should ever have to live in fear and constantly think that today might be their last. nor should they ever have to think they were a monster.

before he could react, she stood up and wrapped her arms around him. she rested her chin on his head and comfortingly pat his shoulder. she couldn’t see his face, but she knew he must’ve been surprised with how he had tensed up. 

“you’re not a monster, hongjoong. you did what you had to do to live. anyone would've done that,” she reassured. “it’s in our nature to do whatever it takes to survive. life’s precious, you only get one chance. and i’m sure your...opponents knew, too. it’s not your fault, hongjoong. you’re not a monster or a killer. the guilt you feel for having to take their life—that just shows that you have a heart, feelings,” she peered down at his glossy eyes. “have you ever considered that they might’ve come back to watch over you? rather than haunt you?”

by that point, even jiyu was crying. crying at the thought of how the tiger hybrid had endured so much pain by himself. he had no one by his side to help him. the other hybrids with him had the same goal. to live. befriending each other would’ve made them too emotionally attached to each other to kill. 

feeling her tears land on his cheek, it only prompted his unshed ones to fall. he buried his head in her neck and cried. cried out all of the tears he had for the ones he killed, cried out the despair and hopelessness he’s felt ever since he was old enough to process the world around him. but most importantly, cried at the thought of being finally being safe and away from the bloody, heartless world he came from. 

she held him close. despite being an adult, he seemed so small, so childlike as he hugged her and cried. rocking him from side-to-side, she ran her fingers gently through his hair and whispered comforting words to him. “they’re in a better place, joong. i promise. they’re free from the pain.”

feeling his body shake in her arms from his sobs, it took every ounce of strength for her to not sob along with him. she had to stay strong. she had to keep him grounded. a while had passed; hongjoong’s cries filling the room with jiyu comforting him.

she suddenly stopped combing through his hair. “would you like to come home with me?” 

hongjoong pulled away from her at the question. “w-what?” he sniffled. 

she grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and gently dabbed his tears away. “i know it’s sudden...but would you like to come live with us three?” she asked. “i’m not forcing you to, it’s a hundred percent your decision. i just realized you don’t have anywhere to go after you’re discharged here.”

hongjoong blinked, slowly processing her offer. his heart raced with happiness. he wanted nothing more than to spend his days in her safe presence, to spend his days getting to know seonghwa and yunho. but deep down, he felt something holding him back. 

“b-but the blood p-pirates...” he managed to stutter out. he was terrified of what could happen if they found him again. he didn’t want to endanger three innocent people just because he was selfish and wanted to experience heaven for a while longer.

“don’t worry about them. if they ever show up, i have a lot of connections,” she smiled, a mysterious hint to it. hongjoong grew curious. connections? what kind? who was she?

“besides, if you were alone in the forest that day, they probably presumed you were dead,” she reasoned. “bottom line is...you’ll be safe with me, hongjoong. with us; me, seonghwa, and yunho. i swear on my life. so...what’s your answer?”

hongjoong stared deep into her eyes, trying to find signs of uncertainty—heck, he was even waiting for her to say it was a joke and that she would never adopt him for who he was. but she didn't. she stared back; an unwavering and determined expression. she was dead serious. 

was he ready to start a new life? was he ready to leave his old life behind and start again from scratch with a new family? does he deserve this second chance after all the lives he’s taken?

suddenly, a little voice, as clear as day, rang next to his ear. yes. all of a sudden, it was like every fiber of his being and soul was pushing him to accept. feeling a slight breeze blow past him, he felt at ease. maybe jiyu was right; they were watching out for him, looking over him despite their tragic ending by his own hands. 

“hm, where did that breeze come from?” jiyu frowned, seeing that the window was still closed. she looked back down to the hybrid on the bed in front of her before smiling and extending her hand towards him. “so? will you join us?”

with his ears perking up with a newfound burst of energy and his tail waving around with anticipation at his new future, he slowly reached out with his own hand and clasped her’s. “yes.”

she grinned. “well, seonghwa and yunho will definitely be excited as i am about you joining our family.”

[clarkesrifle]

Title: The Forgotten Day Pairing: Levi Ackerman x nb!reader Warnings: None, no spoilers Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2.2k Summary: The Survey Corps had no time to remember birthdays -- it was a miracle that anyone knew each other’s name, really. Imagine your surprise when you found a crudely-wrapped item with your name on it on your forgotten day. Ko-Fi | Requests! Notes: Unedited, written when I was lonely.

The Survey Corps had a high turnover rate, as was natural with the profession. How many had died since its establishment? Were any of them remembered, or was all that was left of them was a tiny inscription within the seemingly endless book of those that died in the service to humanity?

Birthdays were unimportant. For some, remembering that comrades were human beings with families, lives, and histories made their duty too difficult. It was decidedly easier to ignore those things. Comrades, at the end of the day, were a means to an end. A partnership doomed to fail. It was easier to forget about them when you didn’t know their important days.

It was hard for you to grasp at the beginning of your tenure. Despite your family’s economic status within the walls and regardless of your experiences with your birthdays, you found it difficult to trust the people around you when you knew so little about them.

Where are you from? Have you seen a titan before? Why did you enlist? Have you killed one before?

Sometimes, it was difficult to discern whether your friendships were born out of genuine care for each other or rather the respect that was necessary to function together as a unit.

Captain Levi had intrigued you from the start -- so many rumors about him lingered throughout the walls. He was a bonafide celebrity and a mysterious one at that. How many families told stories of him? How many children’s nightmares were soothed by the mere mention of his name?

You remembered the first time that you had ever seen him -- the Scouts marched through the quad on horseback, passing through Shiganshina’s marketplace. You crawled on top of the fruit stand’s fabric canopy, feeling it dip underneath your weight. You were so small then, it feels like.

Levi walked his horse into the quad, directly behind Commander Erwin. How could so much strength and resolve lie within such a small body? He didn’t strike you as overtly handsome at first glance. No, your appreciation for his appearance grew slowly over your years wearing your wings.

Admittedly, the years that you did remember your birthday were lamentable. Days off within the corps were few and far between, and when your birthday didn't matter, you couldn’t exactly do anything for it.

Your body felt as though it was about to explode; training only grew more intense the longer that you were enlisted. You supposed this burning pain was worth it -- the Scouts couldn’t risk any more people than necessary, and the best way to prevent deaths was extreme preparedness.

Your squad leader, the infamous Levi, pushed you harder each day. Keeping your cool, both physically and mentally, was difficult whenever he was around. Impressive was the least you could say about your captain.

He seemed peaceful whenever he trained, as though he were relaxing lakeside -- you allowed yourself a quick moment to picture Levi lakeside -- without a care in the world or a titan to slay. It was mesmerizing to watch him use the ODM gear; it was as though he were performing a beautiful and intricate dance.

Much to your chagrin, he ordered you to clean the muck from the stables and care for the hooves of the horses following training, a task that would surely take you hours. Levi, in all of his mysteriousness, was particularly anal about cleanliness.

Being alone with your thoughts was particularly distressing on your birthday. You couldn’t help but wonder about the people you’ve lost -- how many birthdays had they lived? How many more would there have been? Why were you given the privilege to live when they were gone?

For some faces that lived behind your eyes, you regretted not knowing them more. You noticed with anguish that many of those faces lost their sharpness in your memory, the years replacing their features with blurs and blobs.

The moon was rising by the time that you finished your appointed task. Your lower back throbbed, your calves screamed as you climbed the stairs towards your lodging.

Your room was perfectly modest -- only a bed, a dresser, and a desk were provided to you. The pillow was flat; you were not the first nor the last to use it. The blankets were made of a course and itchy material but did its job well enough.

Blinking, you noticed a horribly wrapped item sitting upon your bed. It seemed to be covered with the same paper the captains write correspondence with, tied with twine. Written on it was your name in nearly illegible chicken-scratch, but still, it was your name.

“Um,” you mumbled under your breath. Sitting before the present, you undid the complicated knot with your calloused fingers. Inside lay a book; it was leather-bound, old, possibly expensive. The inside of the wrapping paper had a small note written on it, which read: It's your birthday. Congrats on not getting munched on for another year.

You gasped quietly. It was your first birthday present in years, possibly ever. After the initial shock had worn off, you hungrily opened the book, skimming through pages after pages of incredible drawings, information about a world you'd probably never see.

You flipped back to the beginning, noticing that whoever gave you this gift had left a small note just under the first chapter heading: I keep hearing about the world outside of the walls. Thought you might be interested.

Closing the cover, you held the book tightly to your chest. Thank you, you thought to yourself.

Hearing Armin speak of the sea intrigued Levi. Throughout his life, he had never allowed himself to think of the world beyond the walls. By the time he went on his first expedition outside of them, he could only think about titans.

He had first noticed you upon your entrance to the corps. Erwin had given a rousing yet truthful speech, as he did at every graduation. Levi stood offside the stage, taking in the group of cadets that had stayed.

The Captain had long become used to seeing the fearful faces, the determined faces, the strong, the angry ones. Yours, however, intrigued him.

You looked resigned.

You looked incredibly aware of the sacrifices you would have to make, the people that you would lose. You looked so painfully aware of the trials and tribulations to come. It seemed as though you were the only cadet that understood the reality of being a Scout.

So he pushed you. He knew deep down that he pushed you harder than the others. Levi had even requested you to be apart of his squad. Erwin had looked at him with curiosity at that, only Levi, who could read the man better than anyone else, could see it.

It had been Erwin who had first noticed your feelings for your squad leader. You had been subtle, truthfully, and only a man as detail-oriented as the Commander could see.

He had noticed it after you delivered tea to his chambers, where he, Levi, and Hange were having a meeting to discuss the budget for the next quarter. You had lingered a mere millisecond when you handed Levi his cup, skin grazing against each other so gently. Levi had been surprised at just how much he felt at that slight touch, how much heat erupted on his hands.

You did not stay long after that, wishing Hange a goodnight with a gentle squeeze to her elbow -- Levi was unaware of the friendship that you two had.

Levi glanced at his Commander, who smiled over his teacup, looking pointedly at him. "What?" Levi asked. Erwin shook his head, a low chuckle coming from him. "What?" Levi asked again, impatiently.

"Nothing," Erwin replied, a soft smile gracing his features. "Just don't let yourself get too distracted, Captain."

He refused to elaborate.

Hange was the next to notice. You volunteered your extra time, particularly on your loneliest days, to help her with various experiments. Most of the time, you were on standby, looking out for Erwin. It was very clear to you that these experiments were largely unapproved.

Levi visited Hange's laboratory one day, a ration bar in his pocket. You may not have noticed him slip the bar into your bag's pocket, but Hange surely did.

It had taken plenty of prodding on the scientist's part to get Levi to admit a certain level of care and affection for you. You had been hurt slightly during an expedition. It was nothing serious, and yet the Captain insisted that you stay behind on the following day's adventure. You had fought tooth and nail to convince him otherwise, which landed you a day's worth of paperwork for insubordination. He strategically picked the following day, forcing you to miss the mission to finish the massive pile of work that was needed in a short amount of time.

"Y/N'd just be dead weight," Levi grumbled to Hange after she had cornered him. "I'm not going to babysit someone just because they got hurt and were too stubborn to heal."

Hange scoffed at her shorter friend. "It was only a twisted ankle, y/n was cleared for the mission immediately."

"I'm not going to risk another brat being killed because of a stupid, unhealed injury. That's final." Levi looked below them, taking in the four-meter titan underneath them. Easy.

He triggered his ODM gear, rearing his arms backward and slicing forward at the beast's neck, grinning as the nape fell off of it towards the ground. The titan fell, mouth agape, onto its side. Landing onto a tree limb, he scoured the forest floor for more.

Hange was not far behind. She landed beside him, intent on harassing him until she was satisfied with his answer. He rolled his eyes. Maybe it would have been less of a hassle to keep Y/N in the game. Babysitting didn't seem as awful as being stalked.

He hadn't meant to overhear Armin one night, but the conversation intrigued him. The sea. A forest that not even with fifty gas reserves could he traverse. Small pieces of white, cold fluff falling from the sky like a gentle rain.

A strange warmth built in his chest -- he could picture it all easily, but he couldn't picture any piece of the world without you being there with him. Levi wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He had crashed into an abandoned home after slaying a titan. He needed a moment to refill his gas tanks, and he needed a place under cover to do so.

Levi had landed in a library. Books covered most of the floor, the walls, the tables throughout the room. Besides the dust, the new debris, and the vines growing into the building, it seemed as though life had been suddenly paused and could start again at any moment. Strangely, he felt like he was intruding on something.

He found himself drawn to a book, hidden at the back of a shelf. The books that had once been in front of it had been thrown to the ground in the mad dash to escape the titan-infested city.

The spine of the leather-bound book had a portrait of a snow-capped mountain imprinted into the material. A mountain. He hadn't heard of one before he had overheard Armin that one night.

It had been covered, hidden.

Illegal, he realized. Interest built in his chest, he grabbed the book and flipped through it quickly, looking at the intricate drawings. He thought of you.

Slipping it into his waistband, Levi left the library through the way that he came.

Shamelessly, Levi dug into the records in Erwin's office long after the Commander had retired to bed. Y/N L/N, he read, yanking the file out of the cabinet and searching.

Six months away.

He made a note of it before slipping the file back into the cabinet and pretended he never did anything at all.

In the days leading up to your birthday, he found himself busier than he had expected. He had hoped to wrap the book days in advance, but life never turned out how he wanted or expected. He waited until after training and bought himself time by asking you to clean the stables and care for the horses.

You were just as fastidious as he was when it came to keeping things clean, something he was impressed by and thankful for at this moment.

He hadn't the time to go into town to buy proper wrapping, so he improvised.

Being a soldier was about improvising a bad situation into something better.

Something better was wrapping the book in stationary. "It looks like shit," he mumbled to himself. He attempted to save it by tying it with twine, but he looked out of his bedroom window and saw that you were already heading back towards the barracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought to himself. Undignified, he ran up the stairs towards your bedroom -- which he knew was yours based on how pristine it was -- and dropped the book onto your bed without much thought.

The next day, he watched with a rare smile as you read in the mess hall. Happy birthday, brat, he thought to himself. He took a sip of his tea, savoring it.

He wasn't sure if the warmth in his chest was from your appreciation of the gift or the heat of his drink.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part ten

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Warnings: ANGST (sorry) with a little bit of fluff, drinking, drug mention

A/N: This is a rough chapter especially for Frankie. It’s from his POV.

Summary: Frankie comes clean about exactly what they’ll be doing in South America.

pragma masterlist

gif by @pascalplease​

Frankie let himself fell flat on the bed and lifted his head slightly to watch her walk around the bedroom in nothing but a towel.

“You wear me out,” he said, and she smirked. She had suggested a shower after they cleaned up the kitchen and they were just getting out an hour later.

“You complain now but you’re gonna miss me when you’re gone.” She let the towel fall as she reached for her bra and panties.

“I’m gonna miss you no matter what.” He sat up on his elbows and she smiled at him. “What?”

“I love your dad bod.” She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside him as he fell flat again.

“Dad bod?” he groaned.

“Yup. Especially this tummy.” She ran her fingers over the soft flesh then kissed it.

“Are you just teasing me, or do you really like it? I can start working out if—”

“No. I like you just the way you are.”

He turned onto his stomach with a groan and she climbed onto his back. After a quick kiss to the back of his neck, she began kneading the muscles of his back.

“Ohh that’s good,” he said, and she laughed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh huh.” His eyes were closed as he relaxed to her touch.

“Why are you guys going to South America?” she asked and his eyes flew open. “I mean…it’s not some undercover thing, right? So, you can tell me. You both are former spec ops…does the government usually call guys back for stuff after they’ve left?”

He could lie. He could let her believe that it was for the government. But he wasn’t going to. No. She deserved the truth even if she wasn’t going to like it.

“It’s not for the government,” he said quietly, and she stopped massaging him.

“Oh?”

“There’s some drug lord…supposedly there’s millions of dollars hidden out in the wilderness. Pope has an informant who told him.”

She slipped off his back and sat staring at nothing. “A drug lord? You’re going to on a mission to steal millions of dollars from a drug lord?”

He sat up and tried to think of a way to make it make sense, but nothing came to him. “I’m a good shot and the only pilot…”

“Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“I wish it was something else.” He shrugged and ran his hands through his hair.

“That’s illegal, isn’t it? Like…can’t you guys get in a lot of trouble?” He nodded. “Okay so if you don’t die, you’ll probably just go to prison for the rest of your life? Great.”

“Do we have to do this now?” The way she turned her head slowly to look at him told him that he probably shouldn’t have asked that.

“When would you rather talk about it? Better yet, when the hell were you gonna tell me what this was all about?” She got off the bed and angrily put the rest of her clothes on. He still sat there on the bed in a towel.

“Wait…” She paused and looked at him, “Would you have told me if I didn’t ask?” His silence told her enough. “Wow.” She walked out of the bedroom and he sat there wanting to pull his hair out. He quickly dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday and realized he would have to go home for more clothes.

He slowly made his way downstairs where she seemed to just be moving stuff around angrily with no purpose.

“Look…I didn’t know how to tell you. I mean, look how you’re reacting to it.” Bad idea, he thought once she turned to him.

“How the fuck did you think I was going to react?!” Her voice was loud and strong but also full of emotion. She was hurt again. And it was his fault again. “This is all too much.”

His eyebrows shot up and he followed her every move. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying exactly what I said, Frankie…or should I start calling you Catfish?”

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled.

“Why? All your army buddies do.” She brushed past him and started to clean more.

“I’m not Catfish around you. I’m Frankie. Just Frankie.” He watched as she dropped to her knees and wiped the coffee table down though it didn’t need to be cleaned at all. She wiped in the same spot over and over again until she finally just fell flat on her bottom and cried.

“I don’t know what to do!” she wailed, and he made his way to her side, kneeling on the floor beside her. “I can’t do it. I can’t be alone anymore. It’s all your fault!” She shoved him but he stayed next to her. He wasn’t sure if it was the best idea but he embraced her. She fought him at first but eventually calmed down and sobbed against his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Is this payback for me leaving you before?”

“You really think I’d do something like this as payback?” he asked, pulling away and holding her at arm’s length to look at her. But she wouldn’t look at him.

“I don’t know, Frankie. I don’t know anything anymore.” She pulled herself out of his grip. “I have to clean.”

He stayed on the floor, watching her unnecessarily clean things.

And she wouldn’t look at him.

“Look at me,” he said quietly. He knew she couldn’t hear him. “Look at me.” It was louder this time. She heard him but ignored him.

It felt like just a few minutes ago that they couldn’t get enough of each other. They had kissed and made love more than once. They had said I love you and laughed together. She had looked at him with passion and love in her eyes. And now…

“Would you just look at me, please?” He stood up and she stopped moving but still wouldn’t look.

“I can’t. Not right now.” She sounded broken, hurt.

“Fine. Guess I’ll go then. Call you later.” He didn’t see it but right before he closed the door she turned and looked.

*

Frankie didn’t know what to do. He had no idea where he was going until he ended up parked in the lot of the liquor store. He had never been a huge drinker—a few beers here, a shot of whiskey there—but today was a special occasion: the only woman he ever truly loved, besides his mother, couldn’t stand to look at him and he couldn’t blame her. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror and shook his head before adjusting his cap and getting out of the truck.

Inside the store, he walked up and down the aisle dedicated to whiskey, trying to make a choice. After a few more minutes of contemplating, he chose three different kinds and paid for them. He didn’t care what brand or what they tasted like, he just wanted to forget.

*

He was already opening one of the bottles before he even unlocked his door. His phone rang and he saw it was Pope but couldn’t bring himself to answer it. Throwing the phone onto the messy table, he resigned himself to the worn chair he’s had for years. His phone buzzed but he drowned it out and drowned himself in the bottle he held.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he laughed them away, not sure of how to deal with them right now. Wait. He was dealing with them with the liquid fire that now coursed through his blood.

Buzz…buzz…buzz. His phone kept going and going. “Fuck off,” he slurred, lifting the empty bottle to his lips then throwing it onto the floor before grabbing another. It tasted no different than the one before it. It just made him numb and that’s what mattered.

Yeah, sure. Numb.

Not numb enough to make her face go away. Even though she wouldn’t look at him before he left, he still saw her fucking face. She was so disappointed in him and that is so much worse than her being angry. He had disappointed a lot of people throughout his sorry life but this had hurt the most.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

What the fuck was that? It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that he was halfway through the second bottle and still hadn’t stop feeling the pain of her not looking at him. “I’m an ugly bastard,” he sniffled. “A…a pathetic little…” His voice cracked and he whimpered. Suddenly he was standing and walking over to the small desk that he never used except for when…

He opened one of the drawers and groaned when he found it empty. “Wrong one.” He slid the next one open and found what he was looking for when he reached way back—a small box that he kept hidden from others…and tried to keep hidden from himself.

The box in his hand was so light yet it weighed heavy on his soul. Even in his drunken state he could feel the shame and disappointment he had hidden away when he thought he hidden this box for the last time. He was going to get rid of it completely but…he couldn’t. For emergencies, he told himself—and this was an emergency.

He stumbled back over to his chair and sat heavily, setting the whiskey bottle on the floor. His hands shook as he held the box in front of him, afraid to open it. He shut his eyes when he finally did and her voice came to him…

You don’t need it. You never have.

But that was when she could still stand to look at him. Now, well, maybe he did need it. He looked into the box at the little baggies that sat inside of it.

“J-just a little.” He removed one of the baggies. “A little.” He put the box aside and held onto the little bag, squeezing it in his palm as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck…”

His world spun and he felt like he was falling. He fell and fell into the abyss with no one there to save him as the bag felt like it was burning a hole in his hand. Is it hot? He felt hot. Burning up. Had he finally died and gone to hell? God knows that’s where he belonged.

No. It’s just an overwhelming darkness. Nothing. And that’s what he wanted, right? To feel nothing.

*

Frankie startled at the sound of someone banging on something. And someone was calling his name? Why was it so dark in here?

“Frankie?!” There it was again. He blinked up at the window. Someone was there. Were they doing the banging? He was ready to tell them to go away but he only reached down and searched for the bottle he was sure he left there beside his chair.

“Goddamn it! Frankie!” They were pushing against the door now over and over again until it crashed open and they fell to the floor. They groaned in pain but Frankie didn’t move. He couldn’t. The light flickered on and he closed his eyes against it. “Oh my God,” she cried.

It couldn’t be. He opened his eyes slowly and found her. Was he dreaming? He had to be. She wouldn’t be looking at him if this was real.

“Frankie…” She knelt in front of him and snatched the bottle out his hand then noticed how his other hand was balled up. She easily opened it and found the little bag. “No…Frankie. No!” He didn’t move as she took the bag from his hand and realized it was still full.

“I-I didn’t,” he mumbled. “Fell asleep. I think.”

“Why?” she asked then began looking around and her eyes landed on the box he kept it in. “Jesus,” she sobbed.

“For emergencies.”

“Oh, my Frankie.” She threw the box aside and fell to her knees, cupping his face. “I’m sorry. You hear me?”

“You…you wouldn’t look at me,” he sighed.

“I am now. I’m looking at you, Francisco. I see you.”

He broke then. “Don’t leave me,” he begged. “I have to remember. I have to remember your eyes…the way you look at me…or I’ll die. I’ll fucking die,” he cried.

He expected her to be revolted by the smell of whiskey and sweat that most likely came off of him, but she only moved in closer, bringing her forehead to his. This had become a thing for them, a special connection that made him feel whole again…safe.

“I’m here.” She ran her hand through his sweat-slick hair, pushing it up and off from where it stuck to his forehead and still, she wasn’t revolted.

“You’re here. You’re real.”

“I am. You’re gonna come home with me, okay?” She stood and wiped her eyes before walking away. He stood to follow but every move made him feel nauseous. He could hear her in his bedroom, opening and closing things. “There we go,” she said before walking out with a full duffel bag.

“What?”

“You’re gonna stay with me until…until you have to go. Come on.” She helped him to his feet and put his arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me if you need to.”

“Lemme carry the bag.” His words were still slightly slurred.

“You can barely carry yourself right now, my love.” She helped him to and helped him get in the car before putting the duffle in the backseat.

“My phone,” he said.

“Got it.” She held it up. “There are about fifty missed calls and a bunch of texts from Santiago and I.”

“I do?” He tried looking at the screen but his head spun. “Why?”

“We were worried about you, Frankie. You said you would call me but when the sun started setting and I hadn’t heard from you, I got worried. I called Santiago to see if you were with him but you weren’t so he called and when you didn’t answer, he let me know. We both just kept calling and…nothing, so I drove here and…”

“Came to save me,” he said.

“I don’t think I saved you…”

“You did.”

*

He kept quiet for the most part as she drove to her place, stealing glances at her whenever the world stopped spinning long enough. She helped him inside and he groaned.

“Uh…I gotta…” He ran to the nearest bathroom and let everything out. She came in a few minutes later and sat in the floor to rub his back as he hugged the toilet. “This…is why…I don’t drink,” he gasped.

“One and a half bottles of whiskey will do that to you. Especially on an empty stomach. Stay right there.” She stood and turned on the sink as he closed his eyes and hoped nothing else came up. He only opened his eyes again when he felt a cool wetness on the back of his neck then on his face. “Come here.” She moved his head carefully and wiped his forehead before cleaning his mouth off.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that…like this.” He closed the toilet lid and flushed then sat up, resting his back against the wall behind him.

“Not the first time I’ve seen you puke your entire stomach up.”

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you mean, Frankie.” She shook her head and tried to smile. “You scared the hell outta me.” He could tell she was trying not to cry. “I can’t lose you before you even leave…”

“I’m sorry.” They sat silently for a while. It reminded him of something. “Remember when we used to hide in the bathroom at parties and smoke weed so that no one else would ask for some?”

She snickered. “God…yeah.” There was the smile he was looking for. “Come on.” She stood and held out hand to him. “Brush your teeth then it’s bath time.”

“Yes ma’am.” She waited outside the bathroom as he brushed his teeth then led him upstairs and told him to undress. “What about you?”

“Nope. I’m giving you a bath and that’s it.” He struggled a bit with getting his clothes off and she helped where she could before starting the bath. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You might have to help. Everything still feels like its tilting.”

Once he was in the bath safely, she poured water over his head. “You need a good scrubbing.” She put some shampoo into her hands then massaged it into his hair. “You’re gonna smell like me for a little while.”

“That’s a thousand times better than smelling like shame, sweat…and puke.”

“Head back,” she commanded before pouring more water over his head. He marked this down as something else to remember. “I hope you know you’re spoiled.”

“I am.”

Her smile faded and her eyes closed as she began to cry. “You have to be okay. You have to stay alive so I can spoil you forever, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You better, you…you…” She couldn’t finish what she wanted to say and just kissed him. God, he missed that.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Everything.” He sat back against the tub. “For helping me, saving me. For loving me.”

She reached out and wiped a drop a water from his face. “Thank you for letting me.”

[eleven]

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[violetwolfraven]

The King’s Men

Hey @buttons-and-gulons I wrote this as a Christmas present for you! You said you liked sprace so I decided to flesh out my backstory for Spot and his friendships with other Brooklyn kids and also include his relationship with Race in there! Hope you like it! Happy Holidays!

Tw: mentions of abusive parents, period-typical homophobia, some internalized homophobia, minor character death.

...

Sean was 6 when he ran away from home.

His father had been gone a year, and his mama resented her son as a reminder of how she’d wasted her youth on a man who never loved her. And after months of stress and anger being taken out on him in the form of cigarette burns and slaps to the face, Sean finally got the message. He took off onto the streets while his mama was at work, slept in an alleyway, and barely survived the rest do the week alone, a kid with no money and no home to go back to.

It was six days before a red-haired girl noticed him in that alleyway and asked where his parents were, and Sean said he didn’t have any even though as far as he knew, both his parents were still alive.

The girl introduced herself as Palomino. She was 12. Six years older than Sean. She was a newsie, and she was willing to take Sean home with her if he’d use his cuteness to help her sell.

Sean, not having anywhere else to go, agreed, and with a scarred-up little kid fronting, he and Palomino sold so many papers that they had to go back in the middle of the day for more.

She introduced him as ‘Spot’ that night at the Lodging House, and when Sean tried to object, she pretended not to hear. But she introduced him to the other Littles, to Rafaela, a year older, who’s real name wasn’t Rafaela, and Scabs, who was Sean’s age, who’s name definitely wasn’t Scabs.

Sean didn’t have many good memories attached to his name, anyway, so he let his new friends call him Spot, and he learned the best ways to sell alongside them, learned to fight and lie convincingly from older kids, learned to survive on the streets and avoid the bulls. The three of them kept their heads down to avoid the latest Brooklyn king’s wrath, and looked out for each other as best as they could.

‘As best as they could’ wasn’t always enough.

Spot was 7, Rafaela was 8, and Scabs was dying of tuberculosis that winter.

When Spot tried to tell the king he needed help, the older boy just looked vaguely unhappy, mentioned that they lost kids every year, and took a swig of the whiskey he’d bought with money he could have spent on medicine.

Palomino wasn’t much more help, saying that sometimes kids died and there wasn’t anything you could do about it, so you had to just say goodbye and hope they ended up somewhere nice. And what made that worse was that she clearly cared more than the king did, but still wasn’t willing to even try to save Scabs.

Spot was 7 the first (but not last) time he ended up in the Refuge, for trying to steal medicine for his friend. Of course, Snyder didn’t show mercy even to a kid so young, and the beds were somehow cramped and cold, so Spot spent every minute thinking of when he’d get out. He was stuck in that hellhole for two weeks, and though Rafaela and Palomino were waiting for him by the gate when his sentence was over, Scabs was already gone.

Unlike the girls, Spot didn’t get to say goodbye, and he realized he should’ve just listened to Palomino.

He felt stupid, crying over a friend he hadn’t even known a year. It was stupid, how one person being gone could mean so much. Too much. And it was stupid how Spot had even more nightmares than before, and he flinched when Rafaela tried to help him.

He understood now why ‘Mino held her friends at arm’s length. Why she didn’t get attached to anyone. It was so she wouldn’t miss them too much—wouldn’t cry—when they were gone.

So, Spot pushed Rafaela away. He stopped selling with her, stopped letting her try to help when he had nightmares. He tagged along with any older kid willing to take him, knowing none of those broken, rough boys and girls would let him get too close. They knew better.

He tried not to think about how hurt Raf looked at first, or how angry she got as time went on. As months passed, and then years.

Spot was 8 when York came along. Raf’s age, full of scars and stories he didn’t tell. He was mostly silent and thoughtful where the other kids were loud and rambunctious. Still plenty angry, just quiet about it. Smart. When he committed minor crimes (as most Brooklyn kids did) he didn’t get caught. He never said that he held back his anger quietly because one time he hadn’t and it had ended in him losing that right eye of his, but everyone kind of knew.

York was good in a fight, but as with Rafaela, Spot didn’t let him get too close. He kept them both at a distance, and it absolutely didn’t hurt how they got close without him, because it was better if Spot kept them out of his heart.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t soak anyone who said something bad about either of them twice as fast as he would if someone said something bad about him, like when the latest king of Brooklyn made fun of York’s eye patch.

It was a different king than the one who let Scabs die, because of course it was. Brooklyn kings came and went fast, as soon as someone bigger/tougher/deadlier came along. But they were all indistinguishable from the others. Everyone was loyal to them only out of fear.

Spot should have known better. He was a Little. He was less than half the king’s size. He didn’t stand a chance.

But he threw the first punch anyway, and the only reason he survived that fight was because Palomino stepped in and reminded the king that he was a kid. He was young. And he had learned his lesson.

Spot absolutely had not learned his lesson. He was angrier than ever, but he let the older girl patch him up, anyway.

Spot was 8 and when he healed up, ‘Mino started teaching him to fight. Really fight. And no matter how many bruises accumulated or how many times he lost sparring matches, she wouldn’t let him stop learning. She kept pushing him harder, making him get stronger, goading him on until he could land a hit on her, until it didn’t matter that he couldn’t match her for strength or height, until he could knock down an opponent much bigger than himself.

She didn’t sell with him anymore, moving on to selling with Bart and Joey, a pair of siblings, the brother the same age and the sister two years older than Spot. It wouldn’t be until years later that Spot would realize she was doing that to protect him, so no one would suspect they were up to anything.

Spot was 9, Palomino was 15, and she showed up late to sparring sometimes. She sold at Sheepshead, but she’d never let him come with her. She’d never let anyone come with her anymore, but she slung a good 150 papes a day, so no one could argue.

Hildy showed up that fall, a 10-year-old who barely spoke a word of English, and while she fell in with the younger gang, the one Spot still kept at arm’s length, she was a bit separate, too, given that she had a hard time communicating.

She tried to make friends with Spot, and she was so innocent, at least at first, that it actually hurt to push her away towards the others, into that bubble Spot was always on the edge of but never let himself try to enter.

No one trusted anyone else completely in a borough that chaotic, but it definitely didn’t hurt how the others had a circle of at least relative safety and Spot wouldn’t, couldn’t let himself have even that much.

Spot was 10, and he was surprised to find that having made it to double digits didn’t make him feel much older or wiser. Palomino still occasionally made him spar with her, but she’d run out of things to teach him. Spot was getting big and strong enough that she didn’t have to go easy on him anymore, and sometimes he even won their sparring matches.

What was weird was that ‘Mino kept sneaking off to Manhattan, and Spot wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like there was anything interesting in ‘Hattan. Even the kids who lived there weren’t especially interesting, if the ones Spot saw who came over for negotiations and things were any indication.

When he asked why, she simply said that he’d understand the appeal of Manhattan someday, even if Spot was pretty sure he wouldn’t. What did ‘Hattan have that Brooklyn didn’t?

It was later that year when Spot found out that Palomino wasn’t the only one with a strange fixation with Manhattan, when he accidentally caught Moony making out with a ‘Hattan boy a few blocks from the Brooklyn bridge.

This was significant because Moony was a boy, too. And Spot was pretty sure boys weren’t supposed to kiss other boys.

Of course, Moony said he’d punch Spot’s daylights out if he told anyone about him and that Manhattan boy, who’s name turned out to be Skittery.

Spot didn’t understand that. Sure, boys kissing other boys wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t like most of the Brooklyn kids didn’t commit worse crimes on a regular basis. They all stole and cheated when they had to, and they all knew each other did these things, so why was one more illegal action any different?

When he asked Palomino about it (even though he told Moony he wouldn’t tell anyone) she just laughed, saying she hadn’t pegged Moony as queer and that he should know better than to make out where people could see, but that he had good taste in boys.

But she also said that Spot couldn’t tell anyone, because Moony could get kicked out of the Lodging House at best, arrested and killed in jail at worst, and no matter what happened, it wouldn’t be good if anyone found out he was...

There was that word again. ‘Queer.’ Spot didn’t see why anybody cared so much, but he understood that if it could have such bad consequences, it was best for it to stay secret.

Unfortunately, Moony being queer didn’t stay secret. And after the secret came out, Spot never saw him again. That was when it hit that being queer wasn’t just a secret; it was dangerous.

And he still wouldn’t let himself be friends with any of the others his age, but that didn’t mean he missed how Raf snuck glances at Joey as much as she did at York, or how Bart blushed when the new kid, Vince, grabbed his hand to keep track of him in a crowd.

And that meant, even if he couldn’t have them as friends, Spot had to protect them. Sarcastic Vince, quick-witted Hildy, defensive Bart, funny Joey, tough York, and stubborn Rafaela.

And Palomino, too, he guessed, even if she didn’t need it, but the point was that to protect anyone, he had to keep an eye on them, which was closer than he’d let himself get to any of them since he was 7 years old.

Spot was 11 when he found a 5-year-old girl alone in an alleyway and saw himself in her, so he offered her a home.

And he tried to keep her out. He tried to keep that little girl from worming her way into his heart, but somewhere between giving her a piggyback ride to the Lodging House and teaching her to sell, Bluebird got in, no matter how hard he tried. It was scary.

But then again, the latest king, Joe Harris, was even more corrupt and tyrannical than the others Spot remembered, so maybe Blue sticking close to him was for the best.

Letting one person in didn’t mean you had to let in anyone else, right? And besides, Spot could protect one person close to him. Probably.

Or maybe not, because it turned out Joe Harris could hurt even those who seemed untouchable, with how Palomino stood up to him once and it got her killed.

Spot was 12, and he wished he could say that he didn’t grieve his mentor when she was gone. Because despite himself, he had cared about her, and it hurt so much that she was gone.

Joe killing Palomino was meant to scare off any others thinking of rebelling, and it did just that to most of them, but Spot just got angry instead.

He never forgave Joe, and he made a promise to himself that no King of Brooklyn would take anyone else from him again.

It turned out Blue was just the first crack in a dam, because after her, Spot found himself caring about more people. Mostly in the form of the others his age in Brooklyn, despite how hard he’d worked to keep them out. He’d never really be one of them after isolating himself for so long, but in finally letting himself trust them as allies, Spot found that it wasn’t as scary as he’d always feared.

Well, it was scary. But he knew that the others could take care of themselves, and it was certainly easier to help them do so if they stayed close.

And keeping them close meant more allies for what Spot had planned.

Spot was 13 when he challenged for king.

He didn’t have a choice. Joe was getting increasingly cruel, soaking anyone who so much as objected to any of his decisions and taxing the kids whatever he decided was fair for the right to sell in Brooklyn. With the amount he was charging, none of them would last much longer.

Spot knew the fight would be to the death. He knew Joe was a lot bigger and a lot more experienced, at 19, and he absolutely would kill Spot for posing a serious challenge.

But if it gave his friends the chance to survive, if it gave someone else a chance at winning another challenge, it would be worth it.

Making his first kill was the hardest thing Spot had ever done, but he did it, and he became the king of Brooklyn.

It wasn’t his last kill, either.

Over the next couple years, he had to kill Scarf’s father, and a particularly bloodthirsty gangster, and a few boys who tried to challenge for king. But he never enjoyed it, and it was all in defense of his kids, because as king he had to care for all of Brooklyn now. They were all his responsibility.

Still, the title of king meant a certain level of fear, which meant that none of them could care about him the way they cared about each other. And though a few others helped as much as they could, he was largely running the borough alone.

Spot was 14 when Hotshot showed up, an big, strong, angry 12-year-old who’d fight anyone who looked at him funny. The perfect second for a young king who needed to establish his reputation. All he had to do was tell the boy where to aim his anger, and people assumed that if he could get a kid like Hotshot under his thumb, he had to be just as aggressive.

But Spot didn’t let his second soak people who didn’t deserve it. He didn’t do it himself, either. He wouldn’t be like the kings he’d grown up under and let innocent kids get hurt for no reason. Spot swore it that first night when he killed Joe Harris and he did his best to uphold it. He would rather die than be like those tyrants, those power-drunk boys who didn’t care who they got killed.

Well, at least there was one thing about Spot that set him apart from the other kings, but it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

If his friends (it still felt odd to call them that) had been cracks in the dam, Racetrack Higgins was the first wave of water that broke it down, only...

Race never pushed, never forced. He just proved that Spot could trust him over and over again, despite being Manhattan. He was kind and compassionate despite being willing to gamble grown men out of their pay. He was funny and brave and though he could talk his way out of most fights, he’d throw himself into one without hesitation for someone else’s sake.

And though Spot had known him since he was 12 and Race was 11, it wasn’t until years later that he realized.

Spot was 15, Race was 14, and Spot realized that he was well and truly screwed, because though he’d started letting others in a little, the problem was that the person he wanted to keep the closest, the person he trusted most, was a Manhattan boy. Was Race.

He loved Race. And that made him queer, and that was dangerous.

Of course that wasn’t exactly a fun realization, especially with how Race didn’t feel the same.

He couldn’t, right? Because Spot’s own mother hadn’t wanted him. Palomino had only cared for him as a sparring partner. His friends feared him and Bluebird and Hotshot only claimed he was like a big brother to them because they had no one else who even pretended to give a rat’s ass about them.

Race couldn’t want him, too, couldn’t love him back, because nobody really loved him. Spot had accepted that maybe him loving other people was inevitable, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think they would love him, too.

Spot was 16 and Race was 15 when he found out that wasn’t completely true.

Because they’d been in the middle of a fight. Spot was facing a potential king challenger and he’d wanted Race to sell in Manhattan for a few days so he’d be out of harm’s way. But while Race wouldn’t push on sensitive topics, he would fight against what he didn’t think was fair. He thought Spot needed as many allies close by as he could get.

Spot had gotten him pinned against the wall, yelling in the other boy’s face, and then he’d found out that his belief that no one wanted him couldn’t be true, because Race had kissed him to shut him up.

And Spot knew Race. He knew that he didn’t do anything halfway. If he was your friend, he was ride or die for you. Joey and Bart were his cousins, and they said he’d always been that way, diving into things head first, throwing his everything behind every move he made, confident that he was right.

Spot knew Race. He knew that Race didn’t feel anything halfway, either. He knew that to kiss him, Race would have to feel the exact same way he did, which was why he let himself kiss back, at least until he had to pull back and tell him again to leave the borough for a few days.

Race told him not to bother sending someone to tell him it was safe to come back until he was ready to talk, and Spot spent two long weeks winning against the latest challenger, but ultimately showing the kid mercy, then mulling over whether or not he wanted to send someone over to get Race.

He did, but he wasn’t sure if he should.

Spot was terrified.

He’d tried so long to keep everyone out of his heart. He’d fought even Race on that for a while after they met, not trusting that caring about him would lead to anything other than sorrow.

He still struggled with that, even as he sat with Bluebird and Scarf and the other Littles until they fell back asleep if they had a nightmare. Even as he enjoyed card games with Joey, Hildy, Hotshot, Vince, York, and Bart. Even as he attempted to make amends with Rafaela, his oldest friend, who was still cold to him.

Besides that struggle, any serious relationship was a stupid idea for a king. Spot had watched kings from his childhood lose anyone they genuinely cared about, one way or another. He’d watched them grieve siblings, lovers, friends, or were betrayed by one of the above and lost their lives for it. People you cared about were weaknesses, and weaknesses could be exploited if you weren’t careful, and that wasn’t even counting how Race was a boy.

Being a boy who loved another boy could make you disappear. And Spot was a hell of a lot better of a fighter than Moony had ever been, but that type of fighting was always only about protecting himself.

...or was it?

Spot had tried for years to not think of his old mentor, but now that he was thinking of her...

Palomino was a master manipulator because she knew how people’s minds worked.

She would know that even if she could win a challenge, Brooklyn wouldn’t respect her as king, a girl with no one but a bunch of Littles backing her up. But she would know that while she couldn’t be king, she could train someone to end the cycle of tyrants.

She would know that whoever she trained would have to be someone who wanted to be better than the bad kings they’d suffered under.

And she would know that whoever she trained had to be someone who had proved their willingness to fight for others multiple times.

What had she told Spot the one time he’d tried to ask her why she was teaching him to fight?

“Because you’s the only one who stands a chance. It has to be you.”

At the time, he’d thought she meant that he was the only one tough enough to survive her training, but...

She’d been playing the long game with Spot the whole time. She’d taught him to fight counting on the fact that he’d challenge for king one day and she hadn’t cared if she got to see it because she knew he’d win.

It hadn’t mattered that she didn’t live to see his reign because the king she’d made sure he’d have Brooklyn’s support out of loyalty instead of fear. A Brooklyn boy, born and raised, who could take care of himself in a fight but didn’t think of himself first.

It half made Spot want to punch her, for manipulating his entire childhood, but honestly, he wasn’t sure how much would be different if she hadn’t chosen him. He would have tried to challenge for king anyway, only he probably would have lost.

It was a hard decision, to be angry or grateful to her, and Spot’s verdict changed hourly, but he kept thinking about another thing Palomino had once told him.

That one day, he’d see the appeal of Manhattan.

Well, he saw that it was Race’s home, and he was safe there.

He saw that Jack Kelly himself was almost definitely queer, that there were plenty of teenage kids who fit the type and hadn’t disappeared yet. He saw how the Manhattan kids were unapologetic and how they didn’t even judge each other, for the most part. They were more of a family than Brooklyn and they weren’t scared to be who they were and love who they loved, be it platonic or something more.

Spot had to wonder how different he’d be, if he’d been taken in by Manhattan instead of Brooklyn. If he’d grown up alongside Jack and Race and Crutchie instead of Rafaela and York and Bart.

It was startling to realize that he didn’t want to know. Because despite the sacrifices he’d made, everyone he’d lost, Spot still loved his home and his fellow newsies.

But he also loved Race, and even if it would be easier to push him away, to use this as an excuse in his mind to push everyone away, Spot didn’t want to.

He was tired of pushing people away see. It never worked, anyway, and in the end, it didn’t make you any stronger. It just meant you were running from something you couldn’t escape.

So he sent Bluebird to tell Race to meet him on the docks that night, and as nerve-wracking as it was when he managed to get his courage up, he kissed Race first that night.

Spot was 16 when he finally stopped running away from his feelings. From letting himself care about people even if he still had trouble showing it.

Spot was 16 when he finally started running towards home.

...

Sorry this gets a little incoherent towards the end. I was tired when I wrote it.

[writerofthespiral]

The Machine

Author’s Note: So you know, I recently finished Pirate101 for the first time after getting back into it since I was like eight (and now I’m getting back into Wiz) and I must say I genuinely enjoyed it. I laughed a lot and cried some — it was great! The only thing I didn’t enjoy was the ending (I liked it, but I was just sad to see it end, ya know). So, I decided to write it from the p.o.v of my pirate — hope you enjoy! Comment down below!

Word Count: 2400

Trigger Warning: Blood, gore, asphyxiation

The time for the final battle had come upon Ingrid and her crew — to defeat Kane himself. She looked around the lower control room of The Machine, a strong sense of disgust running through her veins. Around her was smashed machinery, oil stains, and the twitching remains of masked automata on the gold and steel platform, some of which had fallen onto the cold, brown marble flooring below. But, that wasn’t where her attention lay.  

“After him Captain, for the Spiral!” El Toro exclaimed, a heroic smile beneath the bull’s white mask, but Ingrid barely noticed the bull.

She drowned out his voice as she descended the metal steps they previously climbed, her getas clicking against the floor. She stopped at the corpse of Gazpaccio, a sad old man killed by his own creation, his own child, Kane. But, could she blame the heartless monster for his actions?

Gazpaccio was the cause of all of this. The death of her parents, the need for a revolution to begin with, and the endangerment of the Spiral. All of this in the name of revenge against the Tortellini family. And of course, darkness bred darkness. It was only until his last days that he acted, wanting to give his son the heart he should’ve had to begin with. But, it was far too late.

Ingrid wanted to hate him for all the problems he’d caused, understanding how much it hurt to be born out of revenge. But, like her own parents, he had shown his creation love, and love was something Kane wasn’t capable of. Even without a proper heart, he never took the time to understand it — to try to feel it — for surely someone with a magnificent mind could learn to love. Even his chaotic creation, Phule, could love.

Either way, nobody should have to die as Gazpaccio did, nor should they be left to rot. Thus, in good conscience, Ingrid turned his body over, laying his arms across his chest.  She took off her headdress, clutching it to her chest and kneeling in prayer. She gently placed it on his chest and stood to her feet, a sorrowful look in her eyes. 

With that done, it was time to cover him. She took off her tattered robes, once a fine silk kimono from Mooshu colored black, white, and gold, now, worse for wear from combat. She never properly appreciated nor wore them as it was. And if they could give a man the peace he deserved, even for a fleeting moment, then she would do that for him. Though the sky pirate was used to death, and even able to revive the dead as a Witchdoctor, her mojo was nearly spent, not to mention his age making things more difficult. Besides, she could feel his tired soul reject life, and she would not raise the unwilling.

She felt a hand on her shoulder from her closest friend, if not father figure. He spoke in a gentle tone, “You tried your best, Dragonfly, the fault does not lie with you. We are at the end of our journey — let us not allow his death to be in vain.”

“But… Kan Po, isn’t it already in vain? He wanted to give his son a heart, to properly fix him, and that’s what we came for, isn’t it? Even if our main objective became saving the Spiral, that doesn’t take away from the original purpose, does it?”

“No, but, in a way, he would have died. Life is a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth; we would have killed off the evil in him in one way, Dragonfly, and now we will in another.”

She solemnly nodded in response. “Yes, I suppose. No mercy for a bastard.”

She took a moment to ready herself, checking to see if her chest was bound properly and that her hakama was aptly done. She wouldn’t want her pants to be too loose or come undone in the midst of combat. They hadn’t yet, but you could never be too sure.

‘You know,’ she thought to herself, observing her tan brown skin, ‘I never noticed how many scars I’ve gotten over all these years…’

She looked back up at the platform, Bonnie Anne motioning for her and Kan Po. “Come on, let’s go!” She yelled with urgency.

The young pirate nodded, rejoining the group with haste. This was it.

The crew rode in tense silence, stepping into the upper control room — the head of the near-destroyed Machine. The room was like a dome, decorated with silver and golden gears, and a map of the Spiral with magnifying glasses on the back wall. The green skies of Valencia were visible all around the crew from the glass, polluted by the smog of clockwork machinery. Above their heads was a strange laser-like contraption made from the ethereal purple crystals from the Isle Of Doom, which momentarily brought Ingrid’s attention to the ones kept in glass casings. And at the center of it all was Kane, his elites, and his marine pawns.

That’s when the young pirate took notice of the floor: it was a chessboard. All of this  —  her suffering, that of her crewmates, and that of the entire Spiral’s — was a game. His pursuit of perfection was just a game. With this realization, her doubts faded away. She had to end him.

“We’ve played a long chess game, you and I, and you’ve done far better than expected. But now it’s time I was rid of you. How about one final match? To be sporting, I’ll only use half my pieces — is that not generous?” Kane menacingly spoke.

“Deacon! Rooke! But how?” El Toro exclaimed in shock.

“Should’ve stayed dead,” Ingrid mumbled to herself, never one for words. She always was unnaturally quiet, even when her parents were alive. She didn’t like noise, nor did she enjoy parties or crowds. In fact, she found the rambunctious nature of the Unicorn nobles so unbearable that it took all of her will not to break down and cry. It was the main reason she stormed The Clock Works and The Machine without hesitation. 

Somehow, Valencian nobility was worse than Marleybonian nobility, and that’s saying a lot as her own mother was Marleybonian nobility. Ingrid could play diplomat, but wasn't completely socially literate. She knew better than anyone else that what she lacked in social skills, she more than made up for it with her combative abilities. Therefore, this battle had to be.

“They’re only machines. It was expensive to replace the children you destroyed, but I managed.” Kane stated. “Bishop, of course, you already know. Allow me to introduce Queen, greatest of my creations.”

“You flatter me, darling,” Queen spoke.

“Not at all. Kill them, my children. Kill them all.”

Thus, combat began. The Clockwork marines rapidly charged forward, striking with near-deadly accuracy. They were merely pawns, but could kill, and stab, and cut, and some of Ingrid's crew aren’t able to block or dodge as easily.

Ingrid focused her attention on Kane, her ruby red eyes widening in shock — he could teleport? Seeing as mojo was illegal by Armada standards, the fact that he had any was a surprise, and the fact that he could use it well was terrifying, especially because he was attempting to pick everyone off like flies…

Ingrid rushed over to Old Scratch, helping her fellow Witchdoctor strengthen their team and call upon the willing dead, creating a better chance for survival. Once finished, she jumped into the fray — she’d never been one to simply stand on the sides and cast spells like a Wizard. Her first target was Deacon; she hated him with her soul, so seeing him ‘live’ again… He wouldn’t live for long.

She took him by surprise like Kan Po had taught her to, summoning a mojo knife and slicing off his head. He’d already been damaged by Bonnie Anne’s spark gun, so he was an easy target.

El Toro, Contessa, Kan Po, Ratbeard, and Hawkules fought tooth and nail through hordes of Armada marines, facing Rooke, Bishop, and Queen. They faced bombs, clockwork traps, guns, and halberds head-on.

As the battle went on, neither side seemed to truly win. Bones, ectoplasm, oil, and Clockwork bodies filled the room. Most of Ingrid’s crew had fallen, and she could only hope they were knocked out and not dead. She’d seen Bonnie Anne subdued with spark guns, Mormo stabbed through, Ratbeard and Hawkules fall taking down Rooke, and El Toro hurt by one of Bishop’s traps. Kane’s army was no different, however, for all that remained standing was he and Queen. As for Ingrid, Contessa and Kan Po remained — everyone else was hurt or…

Ingrid didn’t have time to think about it; she focused on the fight. If this truly was only half of Kane’s pawns, then he needed to die, or everyone’s sacrifices would be in vain. Catbeard would surely scold her for that, and she wouldn't want Gracie's genius to be stamped out.

Ingrid looked to her still standing friends. They nodded at each other, knowing what had to be done. Ingrid used one of her abilities, soulreaver. Giant skeletal hands held Queen down, spirits attacking her as Contessa and Kan Po charged forward. But, the eloquent creation refused to go down so easily. With her dying 'breath,' she brought down Contessa, running her blade through the abdomen of the unicorn rebel.

Ingrid felt her heart sink at the sight of it, yet she continued to fight. "Just like the old times, eh? Just the two of us, Kan Po."

He nodded. "Let us finish our journey, Dragonfly."

She took a deep breath, sending a mojo blast towards Kane, magical lightning leaving her finger-tips. But to her dismay, he teleported away, and that's when she felt herself being shoved to the ground. She looked up in horror as she watched Kane slice through Kan Po's chest, bits of the goat's blood staining her clothing. He kicked the man's body aside, standing over the shocked pirate, tears in her eyes.

"Kan…P…" was all she could mumble before her staff was knocked away.

"Now that that's settled, it seems I've won," Kane spoke, holding his blade above the teen. "You really should have joined me — you and I were born out of vengeance; I could've used your prowess. You defeated Deacon, Bishop, and Rooke. Why, you even took Bishop's staff as a trophy. Too bad you've become obsolete."

He brought down his blade to finish the job, but at the last moment, the witch grabbed  Kan Po's staff, managing to block his attack and kick his weapon away. Before she was fully a Witchdoctor, she was a sickly runt who got by by fighting in the pits of Krokotopia — she could still fight. She was badly bruised and bleeding, but she killed herself to continue on. Her physical wounds would never match her emotional wounds.

She tackled Kane, spitting in his face. With venom, she spat, "I would never join you." She did her best to beat him with the staff, her mojo low. But it was no match, he was physically stronger than her, rather easily knocking it from her hands.

They tussled around in the heap of the dead and dying, but Kane overpowered her, freed himself from her grasp, and knocked her into one of the walls. The white-haired witch weakly attempted to get up, only to be kicked in the stomach and collapse. He grabbed her by the neck, violently shoving her into one of the crystal containers, broken glass penetrating her back as he tightened his grip, slowly suffocating her. She wanted to let out a scream, but couldn't breathe.

"Now, now, close your eyes and fall aslumber — eternally. I must perfect myself, then the Spiral. There is no place for people like you, so go ahead and die for me."

She felt her consciousness fading, her body slowly going into a state of shock. And in what she believed to be her final moments, she saw visions of her parents. She felt… Her mother's embrace, hearing a silent, yet sweet, "I love you" in her ear. Her father, however, she could not hear, and yet, she felt him just as strongly. His demonic will echoed through her — fight. She had to fight.

Her mother lost nearly everything she cared for, but she fought for what she wanted — demanded it. The deal Alison Voss made with the spirits, along with the sacrifices it took to bring back both husband and child, is the only reason why Ingrid Voss was alive. And in return, as the Witchdoctor had found along her journey, she was to face the leader of the Armada. Their stories were tied, and fates sealed, one way or another. Thus, she fought against her own body.

Her ruby eyes glew a deep red as she weakly brought Kane into her embrace, showing affection to the mind that never knew love.

"If you're trying to fight me, it won't work," he spat, "I'm almost done just let me-"

Her face was turning a deadly shade of blue, but she shook her head and cut him off, mumbling, "I… forgive… you…"

"Forgiveness I-" This time, he was cut off by his limbs locking against his will — his hubris was his undoing as Ingrid used her mojo and his against him. Even just a little drop was good enough for her.

"Let's… die… together…" she muttered, sending a powerful electric blast of mojo through the both of them. Her screams filled the room this time, pain running through her from electricity, burning, and broken glass.

"No...not like this. Not like this. I must not…!" he desperately exclaimed, as he fell backward, his systems overpowered by the surge in electricity. As he fell and died, his iron grip dissipated from Witchdoctor's throat.

Heavily wounded, she collapsed onto the ground and closed her eyes, a smile on her face — she won. She heard the silent, yet shaky breaths of her crewmates, and in her heart, she knew they would live. She knew she would live, for she was destined to grow old and see the Spiral change, and she would do it with them. They would sustain, thus she could rest.

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 57/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

Loki looked up at you when his tears had finally stopped.  He wasn’t recovered from the mind healing, not really, but you both knew that you needed to focus on getting out of here.  Healing could come later.  “What happened?” Loki asked, his voice still breaking.

“A lot,” you finally answered. “What do you remember?” you asked, hoping for a place to start. You still hadn’t let go of him, you were far too glad to have him in your arms and alive to let go of him. 

“Quite a lot of pain,” was his answer, in his dry tone.  

You couldn’t help chuckling at that.  Loki was Loki no matter how bad he felt. “Well, you’re not wrong. Balder kidnapped you to get you here. Apparently, he’s been trying to put powers into others, and it isn’t working, so he wants me back since he can put those stupid powers into me, and was using you as bait,” you explained the short version of the story.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course you can hold them. You’re half Asgardian because of the soulbond. My brother is an idiot for not figuring that out,”

“We already knew that your brother is an idiot,” you replied dryly. “Anyway, after you were kidnapped, Tony took me back to the compound to heal from my injuries during the battle. That took too long for Balder’s liking, so he decided to hide you from me,”

“And torture me, yes I remember that part,” his voice was just as dry as before. “By the way, what was that foul concoction you shoved down your throat to boost your powers? Never drink whatever that was again, please,” he groaned at the memory.  It had burned through you both with power.

You laughed again, glad to be able to relax with him in this brief respite. “That was coffee brewed with an energy drink instead of water with caffeine pills and sugar mixed in for added effect. Fury has already banned it in the tower to anyone who isn’t me,”

“I am banning it from you, darling. That stuff was wicked strong,” Loki grumbled

“It kept you alive, didn’t it? You were draining our power at an alarming rate. I did everything you could think of to keep us both alive,”

“Yes, well, Balder was not exactly pleasant to me, darling,”

You nodded, your expression growing grim and sour again. “I know. I healed all of the damage. So when you broke the soulbond, never do that again by the way, I did some things we will never tell your mother about, gathered Thor, Sif, Astrid, and Uncle Tony and we went to where Balder was keeping you,” you sighed. “We lost. I don’t know how, I was too busy keeping you alive and reforging the soulbond to pay attention to the battle. Balder brought the two of us here after the battle. Our friends are fine,” you added hastily.

“How do you know that?” he asked with panic in his eyes over Thor’s safety, over Tony’s and the rest of your friends. 

“Balder made a bargain. If I went with him quietly, he’d let them live. There wasn’t a choice and I knew together we’d figure out how to escape from here,” 

Loki nodded, accepting that answer, then thought to question: “What things are we never telling Mother about?”

“A whole hell of a lot of blood magic,” you replied guiltily. He gave you a look. “I got permission from everyone involved. And used my own blood for some of it. You were dying Lo,” you reminded him. That part was definitely a sticking point for using illegal magic.  You really didn’t care what you’d had to do to save both your life and his.  “I used blood to find you through the soulbond, which if you ever break again I will kill you,” you repeated. He chuckled at how often you were bringing that up.  You weren’t going to forget that soul ripping feeling very soon. “And Pepper offered her blood to open the portal to Asgard so I could save ky magic for bringing you back from the brink of death. I figured, correctly, that the only reason in the universe you would break the soulbond was because you were dying,”

“You are correct in that, darling, and I promise never to do it again,”

“You better not,” you grumbled at him.

“So, have you come up with a plan yet?”

“Not yet,” you admitted. “My first plan was making sure you were alive and going to stay that way for awhile. Next on the list is a shower. Then we need to buy some time until at least one of us has some magic at our disposal again,”

“Your eyes are jet black, darling. You should not be using any magic,” he reminded you gently. 

You shrugged. “I’ll do what I have to to get us out of here,” you reminded him. There really wasn’t much choice.  You could recover after your lives were saved.

“Of course you will,” he sighed in loving exasperation.

“So our next step after bathing should be to figure out how to get those runed manacles off of you,” you thought aloud. He nodded. “And I have to play along with Balder’s plans until we figure out how,”

“And I do not?” He asked. You knew he was wondering why the execution of these plans would most likely entirely be yours, why he wasn’t going to be helping. You blushed. “What is it, darling, what trick are you playing?” you thanked all the gods that he knew you so well. You reached out and took Loki’s hand, speaking directly to his mind through the soulbond.

/Balder keeps calling me his queen and has said that he is letting me ‘keep’ you as a consort/ you admitted. 

Loki laughed in your mind /My brother is a moron/ he informed you

/Yes, but you should be safe. I doubt he’ll even let you out of the suite. I’m the one who has to keep up the charade/

/Darling, you are nearly as skilled a liar and actor as I am. You will be fine/

You smiled, reassured by his faith in you. You managed to extricate yourself from his hold and got to your feet. You offered him your hands. “Come along, peacock. We need to get all of that blood off of you,”

“I can bathe myself,” he grumbled at you, too proud to want you to see him at less than his best. 

You rolled your eyes. “So come join me, then,” you replied, stepping back. He swung his legs out of the bed and got to his feet. About three steps toward the bathroom his legs threatened to fall out from under him. You had ducked under his arm in an instant, wrapping arm around his waist and supporting his weight. “Come along, peacock,” you laughed and helped him to the bathroom while he growled about his useless weak body. “Love, you nearly died. The fact that you’re awake is a miracle,” you reminded him.

You managed to get him into the bath and all of the blood and grossness off of you without too much trouble, though Loki was embarrassed over being bathed.  It wasn’t like there was anything sexy going on.  You dried yourself off and found clean clothes in the bedroom of the suite. All of the clothes you had been provided were skimpy dresses. So you stole pajamas that were supposed to be for Loki. He didn’t comment on your choice, though you could see in his eyes that he was glad for it.  You just wanted to wear pants. You didn’t trust Balder as far as you could throw him. Loki laid back on the bed, drained and exhausted. “Come, darling, let’s get some rest. We both need to rest in order to heal,” you nodded and joined him in the bed, laying your head on his chest where you could listen to his heartbeat.

“When did Mother teach you to soulheal?” he asked while he stroked your hair.  You could tell from his movements that he was just as happy to have you back as you were to have him.

“When you took me there when my eyes were black last time. I shadowed her in the healing wing a couple of days and she showed me, though I couldn’t do the spells myself at the time,”

“Good thing she did,” he commented.

“I think she sees more of the future than she lets on. She sent me a warning that I would need the soulbond words and warned me to memorize them well,” you added softly, already succumbing back to sleep. You were safe, for now, Loki was alive and healing, you would figure out how to get out of this when you were more healed and rested.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 20: Companion

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2646

Your lover's voice, although comforting and familiar, still startled you out of your intense focus enough to make you jump in shock. Looking up at Bakugou as he stood beside you, his eyes only narrowed at your reaction to his question, only further proving to him that you had indeed been nervous. Had you really been that lost in your own thoughts that you had let your hidden worries slip? Now what should you do? You knew that he wasn’t going to let up if he felt like something wasn’t right, and much to your misfortune, he could see through your lies now without even having to try. Was there really a point anymore?

Shifting nervously in your seat, you placed the piece of parchment you had been holding down on the table in front of you, carefully smoothing it out as you had accidentally crumpled it in your shock. “What do you mean…? I seem nervous?” 

“You do.” Bakugou sat down beside you, pulling the document towards him a bit to look it over. “Is it something specific about this one? Or is there something you’re trying to hide?” 

Falling silent, you fiddled with your nails nervously as you avoided looking at him, trying to think of anything at all that you could say instead of the truth. How could you possibly find it within yourself to explain to him that you would be able to tell when he was going to die? That you knew the exact circumstances that led to the entire clan being wiped from history? It was already difficult enough for that burden to be kept on your shoulders, so you knew that pushing it onto him would only increase the weight of your guilt. 

Yet, at the same time, you wanted to tell him. You wanted him to know, so that maybe you could work together to change what would happen. There wasn’t a question in your mind that he wouldn’t want to try, but what if it caused him difficulty mentally? What if he completely broke down just by knowing what you did? He could overreact and jump immediately into action instead of waiting, scaring everyone and possibly getting you both banished. That was a bit of an extreme circumstance, you knew that, but you had to consider every possibility before telling him the truth. 

You already had. Over the course of the past seven months you had been with him so intimately, you had thought over and over about what could happen versus what would happen if you stayed silent. If you held back what you knew, then they would die. There was no question, no other possible outcome, as it had already been written in history. You were the only thing that made a difference to this era, now. So, it had to come down to your courage to make a decision, though it was something that should have been done a long time ago. 

He had to know. 

Letting out a trembling breath, you turned more to face your husband, tenderly taking one of his hands in yours. “Katsuki… There is something, it’s just… It’s so hard for me to talk about.” Already, you could feel your throat constricting, your eyes beginning to tear up. “I… I’m really scared…” 

Giving your hand a comforting squeeze, Bakugou was silent as he allowed you a moment to gather yourself. You could see from a momentary glance up at his face that he was both worried and intensely interested, but not at all angry or frustrated with you, which gave you the strength to continue. “I’ve been… overly observant of the things you ask me to look over because I’m… I’m looking for certain clues.” 

“Clues?” 

“Yes… Because I… Katsuki, there is something horrible that’s going to happen. I just don’t know when… All I know is the circumstances that led up to it. So, I’m watching out for those in hopes that I can… That I can save everyone.” 

Bakugou’s brow furrowed, his head tilting to the side a bit in confusion. “‘Save everyone’? What is it you know?” 

“Everyone… This clan, our friends… You. Everyone dies in one large attack… But not out on a battlefield or anything, it’s here. This entire palace is destroyed by a fire. It’s so intense that… even in my time, there isn’t a trace left of this place except for some documents that survived and the remains of the stone wall. There n-nothing… no one--” It was then that you lost control of your emotions, hiccupping as the tears escaped you. Bringing a hand up to your lips, you covered your mouth as you gave a shake of your head, feeling ashamed that you couldn’t stay strong enough to tell him without crying. “I’m sorry…” 

There was silence between you for a moment with nothing but your soft hiccups displacing the air. But, when Bakugou finally spoke, it was in such a calm voice that your worries were soothed for the time being. 

“[F/N]... In this time of war, everyone in this palace who is here to serve our Lord is prepared to die at any moment. We know what we are doing and the dangers that it puts us in. Even if this is something that we could stop, it would still come about a different way eventually. I’ve accepted what my fate could eventually be.” Placing his free hand tenderly against your cheek, he wiped the burning tears away with his thumb. “But you aren’t something that I had planned… I wish you would have told me sooner.” 

“I just couldn’t…” 

“That’s because you have a good heart. You’ve tried to carry the burden of everyone’s lives on your shoulders since you first arrived here. You don’t have to do that anymore. I’m here now. And I’ll be here until I draw my last breath. You should know damn well that you can depend on me.” Bakugou slipped his hand around to caress the back of your neck, kissing your forehead softly. “I’m your husband, now. All the worries should fall on me.” 

Shifting closer to him, you rested against his side. “I couldn’t do that to you, Katsuki. We should do it together. Like we always have…” 

“We will, then. When the time comes, just let me know as soon as you notice anything.” 

Giving a small nod, you wiped your face of the remaining tears before gently tapping your finger against the document still sitting on the table. “Everything is good in this one… I have no input on it.” 

“Good. Now that is over with, I want to take you into town.” After folding up the document, Bakugou stood, securing the paper in a cabinet. A bit confused, you stood as well, flattening out your clothing along your thighs a bit. 

“Into town? What for?” You took his hand as he approached you, softly trailing your fingers along his skin until your arm was hooked with his. “Something important?” 

“Ah, not necessarily, but I wanted to have you pick out something before they’re all gone.”

“‘Something’? You won’t tell me?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you leaned over a bit to try and catch his gaze, curious as to why he was keeping it a secret. “Why not?” 

With a small click of his tongue, Bakugou nudged you gently with his elbow, glowering down at you in obvious annoyance of your prying. “It won’t be a surprise if I tell you!” 

“You never try to surprise me, though! I’m nervous now!” 

“Excuse me?! I always try to surprise you! You just find out shit before I can! I hate how you can see through me, but not this time!” 

Giggling, you rested your head on his shoulder, looking out into one of the many palace gardens as you walked past. “Okay, okay! I’ll let you surprise me this time.” 

The quick horse ride was pleasant, with the quiet and calming sounds of nature surrounding you. Though, even to this day, you were wary of strangers on the road, refusing to speak or hardly look at anyone that was traveling alone. Bakugou was doubly as protective as he had always been, and just his presence was enough to make people avoid the both of you as much as they could. Although you felt bad at first for making people uncomfortable, you soon grew to accept it and actually welcome the comfort his aggressive presence seemed to bring you. 

Leaving Yonaka at the stables as you normally did, it was a simple walk through the busy town, going down different small roads and alleyways that you had never taken before. Before you could really question where Bakugou was taking you, he came to a stop next to a small home. You could immediately tell that it was a poorer family that resided there, and though Lord Yagi was more generous than most when it came to collecting taxes, there were still those that struggled to make an easy living. 

Right as you both approached the house, the front door slid open, revealing a small child. The instant he laid eyes on Bakugou, a smile broke her face, bouncing in her spot as she called back into the house. “Mama, that man is here!” 

“Oh, is he?” A frail woman approached the door, giving a deep bow as she placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders to keep her from bouncing. “My Lord, thank you for coming.” 

“I said I would. You still have them?” 

“Yes, of course! Please, come in.” 

You were silent during the entire exchange, glancing between Bakugou and this woman curiously. For some reason, the image of a drug exchange flashed into your mind, like he was here to pick up something extremely illegal. Still, you followed him inside as Bakugou made his way in, both of you leaving your shoes at the entrance. Just like the outside, the inside of the home was worn down, and it was clear that this family all lived in this one small room. There were three futons in total, a small fire pit in the middle and a couple of pieces of furniture. You couldn’t help but feel bad for them, wishing that you could do something to help, but you had no power in that regard. 

Suddenly, a small sound caught your attention. At first, you thought it was the squeaking of the tatami mats beneath your feet, until you heard it during the middle of a moment of silence. A small meow, followed by another. Somewhere in this tiny house, there were kittens, and your heart immediately lifted at the thought of tiny fuzzy babies. 

A hand on your back, Bakugou led you over towards the corner of the room, where a wooden basket sat. “I saw this family trying to rehome them yesterday when I was in town. I asked them to wait until I returned with you… Pick one.” 

Feeling your face flush, you squatted down beside the basket, unable to resist your smile as all the little bodies turned their attention to you. “Oh, my goodness… Hello there, little babies. Aren’t you all just so adorable!” Reaching in, you softly stroked the top of an orange kitten’s head, who instantly began to purr at your touch. As you continued to pet them as they demanded attention, you turned your gaze up to Bakugou, smiling from ear to ear. “Really, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou nodded, waiting patiently beside you. “Go on. Take your time.” 

If you were honest, the choice wasn’t hard. There was one particular kitten, who seemed a bit quiet compared to the rest, but was decently healthy and loved your attention. What kept you going back to them was their fur pattern and colors, which was nearly identical to your cat that you had back home. In the end, you couldn’t leave that kitten behind, and you stood with it cradled in your arms. “This one…” 

With a nod, Bakugou pulled out his money pouch, looking at the woman who had welcomed you both into her home. “Here,” after digging his fingers in the pouch for a moment, he pulled forth a few coins, dropping them into the hands of the woman, who stared at the money with wide eyes. “As promised, payment for keeping them until now.” 

“A-ah, My Lord, t-this is so much more than what I was expecting--!” Clutching the money to her chest, she moved to sit on her knees, bowing deeply. “Thank you for your generosity!” 

“Use it well. Winter will be coming soon. [F/N],” With the sound of your name, you looked up at Bakugou, who gestured for you to follow him out of the home. As you walked past her, you took a moment to squat down next to the woman, touching her softly on the shoulder to pull her up out of her bowing position. 

Smiling softly, you gave your own small bow to her. “Thank you. I truly can’t express how much this means to me.” 

“M-My Lady--” 

“I hope that you find good homes for the rest of them.” Standing as the woman merely went back into her bowing position, you gave a small wave to the child before leaving the home with Bakugou. Keeping the kitten close to your chest, you looked up at your husband, feeling your blush spread across your cheeks just from his gaze. “Katsuki, this is so sweet of you!” 

“You’re happy?” 

“Of course!” Able to hold the kitten with one arm, you hooked your other with his, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “Thank you… This is more special to me than you know.” 

“How so?” Bakugou reached over with his free hand, lightly stroking the top of the kitten's head as it stayed snuggled into your clothes. You still couldn’t believe how closely this kitten looked to your lost friend, and although you didn’t want it to, it brought a sense of sadness into your excitement. 

“This kitten looks just like my cat I lost back in my time… It’s uncanny. I’m just so in love already, and it makes me feel like… Like I have a little bit of that life back. At least, something that I’ve missed the most.” 

“I was hoping you would feel that way. I had thought about just bringing one home with me yesterday, but I figured you’d like to pick one out instead.” 

“Is there a reason?” 

“Hm, well…” Bakugou looked away, as if he were embarrassed at the question. “I had wanted to get you a cat, but I just hadn’t been able to find any… And I know that you get lonely when I leave. It was damn perfect timing… I’ll be gone again starting tomorrow for a few weeks. I hope that having the kitten will help keep you company.” 

Since you were in the privacy of a back alley, you used only a gentle tug to get Bakugou to stop, before pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss him softly. Bakugou was quick to return the affection, his hands resting on your hips to pull you in close. If you were in the privacy of your chambers, you could easily see the passion escalating, your love for him only further fueled by the thoughtful gesture. But, you were forced to part at the sound of people nearby, though Bakugou did finish off with a final kiss to your forehead. 

“Thank you so much, Katsuki. The kitten will be perfect company.” 

“Sure, [F/N]. How about we grab some of that delicious pork noodles and head on home? I’m fucking starving.” 

“I’d like that, love. As long as little [Name] can have some, too.” 

“Ooh, so that cat will be eating like royalty, eh? Sure, I bet some chicken would do it good.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Nightmare Part 2–Mitch Rapp

Part 1, Part 3

Mitch's POV

I walked into the gym, my eyes instantly finding Y/N. She was sparring with another assassin, Hurley standing nearby watching. I subconsciously took a step towards her when I noticed the guy get the upper hand.

That worry instantly turned to pride as I watched her turn things around and instantly take him down. I looked over to see Hurley nodding his head, approvingly.

"Not bad, Nightmare. Hit the showers."

I watched as Y/N's shoulders tensed at her nickname. She sighed before grabbing her towel and gym bag, ignoring as the other guys in the gym laughed. She looked over her shoulder at me, sending me a knowing look as she left the gym.

"Rapp," Hurley said, pulling my attention away from my sister's retreating form. "My office."

I sighed as I followed him to his office. Once we got there, I stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for him to begin his weekly lecture.

"How do you think your sister is doing?" He asked, getting right to the point as he sat at his desk.

"Oh," I said, not hiding my surprise. "Are you sure you want my opinion? I just. . ."

"Of course," he shrugged. "You've been watching her closer than any other assassin here, myself included."

I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the awkward feeling that overcame me. The only reason I always watched her was because I was worried she'd get hurt. I was protective of my sister. So, what?

"Well, when she first came here she was strong, fast, smart, light on her feet. She has the skills."

"But?" He asked when I didn't continue.

"She has the skills but didn't know how to best use them," I spoke up.

He nodded, encouraging me to continue analyzing my little sister's fighting tactic. So, I did.

"It shows that she became the face of the operation back when she. . ."

"When she was Nightmare," Hurley finished.

I caught myself cringing when he called her that. "Yeah," I said slowly. "Anyway, it's clear that she was meant to be the face, but nothing more. She wasn't supposed to fight, but she could if needed. She could fight her way out of anything, but not without getting hurt. Not without getting seriously hurt."

"What makes you say that?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Her response time is delayed," I sighed. "It takes her longer to react than the rest of us. She quickly overpowers her opponent, but that's only after he already took control of the fight, gaining dominance."

"I agree," he nodded. "So, do you think she should be tested out in the field?"

"Wait, what?" I asked, caught off guard.

"Do you think your sister could handle a job?"

"Sir?" I stuttered.

"There is a big job I need to send you on, and I've been debating whether or not to allow Y/N to go with you. Do you think you could focus on a target without getting distracted by your little sister being in danger?"

Reader's POV

When I walked into my room and threw my bag down. I pulled my hair out of the ponytail, running my fingers through my sweaty hair. I sighed when I heard a knock.

"You don't have to knock when walking into your own room," I sighed. I turned around to see Mitch slowly open the door.

"I didn't know if you were getting in the shower or not. I just wanted to make sure."

Due to limited sleeping arrangements and not wanting to give the only girl in Orion special treatment (and because he still hated me), Hurley gave us a few options: Mitch and I could share a room with a private bathroom or we could both stay in the bigger room with all the other men.

Being the only girl, I decided living with my brother was the lesser of two evils.

I sat on my bed, my body aching. Mitch walked in but leaned against the closet, watching me.

"Your session with Max went well. Your footwork is improving. Plus you used his strength against him," he said like I had asked for his run-down of my training session.

"It doesn't matter," I sighed. "It's not like Hurley is going to finally allow me out in the field. He still doesn't trust me."

"I wouldn't say that."

I looked up to see Mitch smirk at me. "What?" I elongated. "Did he. . . Did he say something to you?"

"He asked if I thought you were ready to go out in the field." Mitch said as he walked over to me.

"And?" I asked eagerly as I quickly stood up.

"And I told him you were. He's sending us on a mission. The briefing is tomorrow at noon. Be ready, Y/N. The CIA does things differently."

                       * * * * *

During the briefing, it became clear why Hurley wanted me on this mission. We were chasing Anthony Letti, a well-known collector. He finds expensive, usually illegal secrets, and sells them to the highest bidder. I was his "money girl" once upon a time.

It was right after I got away from my first boss. I was picked up, almost immediately, by Anthony's men. He offered me a job, good security, a nice apartment, and a shitload of cash. Of course I took it. And I was pretty good. Because of how I looked, people always underestimated me. Which Anthony and I used to our advantage. I quickly became one of the first people who's opinion he wanted. He trusted me probably more than anyone else on our team.

Until I double-crossed him.

The reason Hurley was after Anthony is because he recently stole a flash drive with the secret location of something or someone. I don't know. I kind of zoned out after Hurley smirked at me as he said Anthony Letti's name.

"So," Hurley said with the smirk still on his face. "Think you can handle going up against an old friend?"

The way he said "friend" made me want to slap that smirk right off his face. I clenched my fists, trying to control my anger. I could feel Mitch's eyes on me, but I ignored him.

"Won't be a problem," I smiled sweetly at him. He nodded before tossing the file on the table and leaving. I crossed my arms against my chest as Mitch grabbed the file and started going through it.

"Did you really work for this guy?" He asked, slowly looking up at me.

I shrugged as I sat back in my chair and kicked my feet up on the table. "Yeah," I sighed. "For about three years. I worked for that underground mob boss I told you about for 18 months before I got tired of being his bimbo. The second I got out, Letti's men grabbed me. Literally."

"They kidnapped you?" He asked for clarification.

"Yep," I said, popping the "p". I watched him sigh as he went back to reading through the file.

"Mitch," I said when I saw the vein in his neck start to pop out. "You're not still hung up on everything that happened in Europe, are you?"

He looked back up at me, tossing the file on the table. "Why would I be?" He asked sarcastically. "You were just raped then forced to work for an evil dick as his bimbo, being thrown into this world. Why would that bother your big brother, Y/N?"

"You're in this world," I mumbled.

"That's different."

"How?" I shot back. "How is the fact that I'm here because of perves different than how you're here because of a murderer?"

"It's just. . . Well. . . You're my sister," he stuttered.

"So?"

He sighed as he turned more towards me, the anger disappearing. "You deserve a better life than this. You don't deserve to be fighting, getting hurt, killing people. It's not the life mom and dad wanted for you."

"It's not the life mom and dad wanted for you either," I said under my breath. I cleared my throat when I saw the way he was looking at me. "Mitch, I understand that you're protective. You're my big brother. You've always been protective, but we're here and we're actually doing some good. Yes, we've killed people. But for every guy we've killed, we've saved a hundred innocent people. That seems pretty worth it in my eyes."

I stood up and started to leave, but Mitch jumped up and grabbed my arm. I held my breath as he slowly turned me around.

"Just because we are going good, saving people, doesn't mean that you should stay in this world."

"Mitch," I said gently. "I'm not that same little girl you had to raise after mom and dad died. I grew up a lot senior year. I just need you to accept that."

"I do," he said finally letting go of me. I started to leave, but froze in the doorway when he added, "Doesn't mean I'm going to look at you as anything other than my sister."

                       * * * * *

We walked into the warehouse, guns raised. I furrowed my eyebrows together when I noticed a lack of security.

"Mitch," I whispered. "Is it just me or is there zero security?"

"I guess," he mumbled. "So?"

"So," I sighed. "I know Anthony. He would never leave himself this open to. . ."

Before I could finish my thought, blackness took over.

[thefencedm]

A description of how my last DM session went - The Horror of Chaus Harbor

This is a one-shot I made, that actually fits in between two bigger adventures. The goal was to move the adventurers from one place to the next, and introduce a newer members while not lasting too long, as another adventurer was missing for this session. Furthermore, I’ve streamlined a lot of the interactions and actions, so as to not give it too much of a play-by-play feel, and make it more narrative.

Finally, note that I’m used entirely home-brewed world, deities, factions, etc. While some names might be similar, they may not be what you are used to in more standard DnD games. For example, the god of darkness and chaos is called Asmodée, the french name of Asmodeus. However, I only retained the name from the original Asmodeus, as in my world he is most often represented as a dragon, and is one of the two main deities of my world, along with Alateo, the god of light and order. However, many other lesser deities exist.

--

1 - Three captains, two ships and one mayor

The team of adventurers, composed of the half-elf ranger Tara, the human paladin Itus and the newly arrived half-orc sorcerer Aftab (all level 3) are tasked with delivering a magical mirror they managed to grab in their previous adventures.

Their goal is to reach the magical capital of the world, the city of Skjolleq. Sadly, it would be impossible for them to take the road there, as conflict between neighboring countries has made borders very dangerous. As such, they decide to go to the nearest harbor, Chaus, and there take a boat to Skjolleq.

Chaus is a small village and harbor on the northern coast of the “Untameable lands”. As a State-less harbor, it is often the center of traffic and commerce that would be considered illegal in many other places, such as drugs, animals or organs. Chaus was once famous for its lighthouse, but it has been in disrepair for decades. However, Chaus is also very close to the Lignon Papacy, a militaristic and expansionist State fueled by religious ideology.

Arriving at Chaus after a small skirmish with goblins, the adventurers decided to head straight for the Tavern at the entrance of the small village. The tavern was called “Vous, ivres ?” a french play on words on “You, drunk ?” and the french word for Wyvern, Vouivre. However, the adventurers were quite disappointed to find that only one type of beer was available.

Having bartered hard with the innkeeper for a place to stay for the night and a meal, the group decided to head out and explore the village before nightfall.

Arriving on the harbor, they saw a grouping of individuals, shouting at someone standing on a wooden box.

As they approached, asking a few questions to some people gathered there, they understood that the man talking is the village’s mayor, Camille Felonpieds. He announced that no ship were to leave or enter the harbor until “the situation” was resolved.

What situation ? A docked ship was attacked in the morning, and it sunk where it was docked. Further exploration showed that a large hole was made in its hull, and all of its cargo was stolen.

Bad news for the adventurers: there was no way any ship would be leaving now that the mayor had imposed this ban on travel. And they were not the only ones pissed, as the 2 remaining ship crews had made abundantly clear during the mayor’s announcements, by copiously insulting him.

The adventurers attempted to convince the mayor to let a ship go, but he proved to be unflinching, as he wagered that if this was a case of sabotage, then nobody should be authorized to leave. Of course, the ships would still have to pay for their daily docking fees which was beneficial for the the mayor, at least in the short-run. However, the mayor explained that the adventurers might as well interrogate the ship crews and could ask around if they felt like speeding up this investigation.

In total, 3 captains were stuck in Chaus.

Ramoustaki was a merchant from the commercial city-State of Bylcis.

Oglov was a merchant from the Kyrian Empire, from which our human paladin also originated from.

And finally a heavily armed ship from the neighboring Lignon Papacy was docked, however the name of the captain was unknown to the mayor.

The adventurers first approached Ramoustaki, siting on a dock. A mast was sticking out of the water, and upon closer inspection, a full ship could be seen underwater, resting on the sea floor. Ramoustaki was the captain of the ship that sunk in the morning.

He explained to the adventurers that he was just here on small business. He usually dealt with trading drugs or live exotic animals, and he didn’t seem really afraid to reveal it, as it is not illegal in the Untameable Lands anyway. He remembered that the attack took place early in the morning, just before the sun rose. He had heard a loud crash, making him jump from his cabin bed. Before he and the few crew members on board could do anything, they had to abandon ship, and watched it as it slowly sunk. Divers then discovered that the ship had been fully emptied of its cargo, and that someone or something had made a hole in the lower hull. The wood seems snapped and torn rather than chopped.

Who could’ve done this ? Ramoustaki had no idea. He couldn’t really picture the Kyrian ship pulling off such a stunt. As for the crew from Lignon, Ramoustaki knew nothing of them at all. However, he warned the adventurers that Lignon had a strong religious ideology, centered around the adoration of only one deity, Alateo, the light-god.

The adventurers went on to talk with the crew from the Kyrian vessel. After a brief presentation, the crew, impressed with meeting a Kyrian nobleman in the person of Itus the Paladin, called their captain.

Captain Oglov was overseeing the unloading of his ship. He knew that the likelihood of something like this happening again in the morning was big, and wanted to save as much of his cargo as possible, leaving in the ship only the bear necessities for the sailors that would remain on board for the night.

Friendly and welcoming, Oglov was the typical old sea-dog who had sailed the seas for years and lived through many adventures. They were on their way back to Kyrian, having left Skjolleq, and were originally just stopping in Chaus for a resupply. They had arrived in the morning, after the attack, but the mayor would not grant them the luxury of leaving anyway. As such, the adventurers gathered that it would be improbable for this ship to be responsible for the attack. Oglov mentioned that while sabotage is possible, this kind of damage and attack seemed more consistent with sailor-stories he had heard of ships being attacked by sea creatures... The team’s Ranger, having herself been raised on the coast of her native country, agreed, as she remembered hearing tales of sea monsters sinking ships by making a whole in their hull.

Finally, the adventurers approached the ship from the Lignon Papacy. However, they were met with two heavily armed guards, blocking their way onto the pier. The guards did not yield to their demands of speaking to their captain. Not wanting to stir more trouble, the team decided to turn back.

As the crew listed the information they had gathered so far, they were approached by an older woman. She asked the group for forgiveness, as she had overheard them and would like to share her recollection of events that happened when she was very young.

As a little girl, she remembered that there once was a similar incident, where ships were being crippled and sunk right into the harbor, or sometimes as they were approaching or leaving. It would always happen in the morning. She also remembered that these incidents happened a few days after strange men came into the city. They would mostly hang around the lighthouse. After the incidents stopped, the men vanished, the lighthouse stopped working and was left in disrepair, some believing it was haunted. As such, the lighthouse would have been left abandoned for close to 70 years now.

Intrigued, the adventurers decided to investigate the lighthouse. They arrived to find the door locked. However, the ranger managed to lock-pick the door and the group entered.

In the main room, a bed, a table and a few chairs were the only elements present, as this would have been just a humble home for the lighthouse keeper. On the right, stairs led up the lighthouse. The room was dusty, clearly nothing had moved for decades.

The group went up the lighthouse to see the last rays of light graze the ocean and the coast, setting to the west. They examined the top-most level to discover that only one of the two reflective glass panes, used by the lighthouse to emit light beams, was still intact. Furthermore, a central pole was clearly missing an object that would be the light-emitting source.

Finally, the adventurers saw a skeleton, lying on the ground, and a journal next to him.

Aftab, the sorcerer, picked up the book and started to read.

The book chronicled the arrival of a team of what appeared to be magical investigators. They had looked far and wide for a certain place, and were now set to explore Chaus. It had come to their knowledge that this harbor might have been much older than previously thought. The team led investigations into the caves of the cliffs near Chaus, and uncovered a hidden place, filled with potential magic. The journal then explained that the experiment had failed, and that “it” could not be contained. The author, last surviving member, managed to seal whatever they had freed. As he knew his wounds were too deep, he went up the lighthouse to see one last sunset, and seemingly died writing the journal, praying for nobody to ever venture below the lighthouse, through the trap-door he had concealed and locked under the bed.

The adventurers however, were cautious not to jump into action, as the night had fallen, and they all needed a rest. They organized to set up a watch on top of the lighthouse, while others would go back to rest at the tavern.

On the next day, as the sun’s glow was already reddening the sky before showing itself, a loud commotion could be heard from the harbor, alerting Aftab who had the last watch of the lighthouse. He saw people gathering around the Kyrian ship, as it was apparently sinking. But most importantly, he saw in the water a shadow and a ripple, seemingly swimming away from the ship, and closer to him, until it disappeared under the cliff the lighthouse was built upon.

Rejoining with the rest of the group at the harbor, the team gathered that the journal was probably prophetically right : someone or something had gone below the lighthouse once again, and whatever creature terrorized Chaus 70 years ago was back.

A quick discussion with Oglov confirmed their suspicions, as the old captain was formal that it was something from the water that pierced a hole in his ship’s hull. Sadly, he too was now shipless, but most of his supplies had been safely transported at shore the day before.

2 - The monster below

The team made for the lighthouse once again, and this time discovered the heavily locked hatch under the bed. Thankfully, the lock-picking skills of the Ranger once again proved useful, and the team opened the hatch to reveal a ladder going down into an underground cave.

The cave was damp, the floor covered in sand and stones. To the right, a small opening to the ocean. And upon closer inspection, fresh prints on the sand leading away from the water. These were not human prints, but were rather left by some huge monstrosity.

The group advanced cautiously, and entered a bigger opening in the caves. Multiple tunnels seemed to lead left and right, although they were closed with doors. On the back of the cave, a massive masonry wall seemingly cut the cave, and two huge metal and wood doors were facing the adventurers.

The team was soon met with a humanoid fish-like creature. Although they would not discover its name, it was in fact a Sahuagin, which jumped at them and attacked before they could attempt to discuss with it. However, the creature was soon to retreat, screaming about having to protect “the temple”, and laughing at how “it” would take care of them. Hidding behind and shutting the huge wooden doors at the back of the room, the creature laughed some more as it was now safe from the adventurers, and a mechanism activated.

To the adventurers’ right-hand side, a big door slide up, and from it emerged a huge creature, covered in crab-like scale, and boasting two massive pincers. An other-worldly aberration was now facing them : the Chuul.

The adventurers fought the creature with all their might, swinging at it, landing a few arrows in between its bony exoskeletal plates, and finally burning it and slaying it.

However, the team could not rest and celebrate just yet, as they were yet to find the creature that previously attacked them. Exploring the caves, they eventually found what appeared to be the Chuul’s prison cell, littered with bones of all kinds, both from fish and land animals. On the ceiling, metal bars left a small opening, through which the Chuul’s captors probably fed it.

Through clever use of mage hand and a bit of luck, the adventurers managed to dislodge the bars, and hoist themselves up into a square room, with stones lining the walls.

Finally, after making their way through tunnels, they emerged into what appeared to be a much much larger area. A discussion in an unknown language was being echoed in the large space. The adventurers realized they had emerged on a walkway, overlooking a particular type of temple.

As the looked around, they saw that the temple, in the shape of a T, was locked in the front by the massive wood and metal door they had seen from the other side. The temple was decorated in granite and dark stones. Several frescoes depicted dragons being slain, decapitated or burnt. This was an Anti-Temple, or a temple originally used for the desecration of Asmodée, in hopes of preventing chaos and calamity to spread. These places fell out of use ages ago, but they were often sought after by those who worship dark gods.

Not having much time for archeology, the adventurers realized that three figures were arguing in the middle of the room. Two of the same fish-like humanoid, and another one, taller, and seemingly in charge : a Sahuagin Priestess.

The adventurers took advantage of their position higher up, and managed to kill the creatures without taking too many risks. As the dust settled, they also discovered that the creatures had not only held some rituals in this temple, the altar being covered in blood, but had also stockpiled food and equipment, some boxes of which were clearly marked of the seal of the ships the adventurers saw in the harbor of Chaus. Using their bag of holding, the adventurers took what they could, and then went back to look for an exit.

After some looking around, they stumbled upon a wall that seemed recently placed. Breaking it revealed stairs going up to another wall. Finally, having teared down the second wall, the team emerged in a room with very large barrels and a giant rat. As they slayed this small beast, they heard a voice upstairs and someone coming down. It was the innkeeper !

The innkeeper explained that for the longest time he could not get to his beers, as he was deathly afraid of a giant rat he had seen here. Prior to this, he had been plagued by smaller rats because of an opening in his cellar to a cave systems, and had built 2 walls to stop them from entering.

While suspicious, the team decided they would not press the innkeeper more, and headed out. It was now midday, and the team went straight to the mayor to inform him of the situation, their discoveries under the city and how they had killed the monster.

The mayor was relieved and thankful, even paying the team a small fee, 50g, for their diligent and swift service. He went out and quickly announced that the ships could once again move in and out of the harbor, if they were still floating that is.

3 - No place for heathens

As the team turned around to leave, they however noticed that an older man, dressed in full plate armor and with the crest of Lignon on his breastplate, was talking to the mayor. The mayor’s expression was one of fear as he was being questioned by the Lignon man.

A few minutes passed, and the players went back to ask the mayor what had happened. Seemingly a bit shocked by this out-of-nowhere interrogation, the mayor answered that the captain of the ship from the Lignon Papacy demanded to know every detail of the adventurers story. When the mayor mentioned the Anti-Temple, the Lignon captain stopped him, and turned back to his ship.

A few seconds later, many soldiers, in full armor and weapons, some holding sacred Alateo symbols, exited the ship. Together, they marched towards the lighthouse, as the adventurers watched them pass by.

The Ranger convinced the rest of the team that they had to go and see what they were doing. They could go back to the tavern and take a quick look.

Tracing back their steps, the adventurers found themselves back in the caves, and a few seconds ago on the upper walkways of the Anti-Temple. There, the soldiers from Lignon were gathered. Some were rolling down barrels and piling them up against the pillars of the Temple. Others were disseminating a black powder. Finally, the Lignon Captain, with a ceremonial hat on his head, was chanting and spraying the walls with what seemed to be blessed water.

The adventurers realized what was happening : the Lignon soldiers were going to blow up this temple. Not only were they too numerous for them to do anything, but the village was just above and nobody alerted them to what was going to happened.

The team rushed out of the caves and began alerting the small village to clear out of their houses, and rush to the other side of the harbor.

A few moments later, the ground shook as a massive explosion was heard. A cloud of smoke and dirt and ash obscured the village, and many houses appeared to just fall into the ground. As the dust settled, it became evident that the Lignon soldiers had just destroyed the temple, taking out a third of the village of Chaus with it.

Deciding to confront the Lignon captain, the team rushed back to the harbor. However, they could only see as the ship was picking up its anchor, and sailed away. Nobody in the harbor thought of stopping them, as they were all too busy with helping those who did not escape their houses in time.

A few hours later, the adventurers found a ship that was heading to Skjolleq. With mixed feelings, both of pride of having slain a sea-monster and of sadness at having been powerless to stop the Lignon soldiers from destroying a part of Chaus, they were now on their way to Skjolleq.

[neakco]

Decided to share a chapter of my original work I am trying to get published. Honest comments are appreciated.

Chapter 7

Frost managed to get them to their room taking a longer route to prevent encountering any more people. He placed Shiro on the floor next to the bed and sat by her. They stayed this way for a couple of hours with no words. Shiro taking comfort in Frost's presence next to her in order to feel safe. Frost knew she needed time to calm down before she could get back to her normal.

 Frost knew Shiro and had known for a while she was jealous of those born without magic. For them, a kiss was something fun, but to those born with magic, it was a horrible threat. A kiss done by the right person could be used to sap both magical energy and one's will. The loss of ability to think for oneself was a terrifying notion, one that he knew Shiro feared almost above all else. So, he sat in silence, knowing his human would speak when she was ready. His life of confinement had made him patient, if nothing else. 

Shiro finally turned to look at Frost, puzzlement in her eyes, "Where did you get the clothes?" 

Frost laughed lightly, out of everything, that was what she focused on. "I started my shift from wolf then transmuted my fur to clothes before finishing the shift to human. It's why it took me so long to punch that trash; I'd never tried to transmute my own fur before. It's stupid, but I felt embarrassed when I realized you would see me naked in my human form. I should have just saved you." He grinned suddenly, "You have to admit, it wouldn't have looked as awesome if I was naked." 

Shiro leaned against Frost's shoulder, "True, and if you had taken a few seconds longer I would be a little angry. Why didn't the two human gorillas notice you shifting?" 

Frost put an arm around Shiro and started to pet her hair in what he hoped was a comforting manner before answering her with a slight growl, "They were too preoccupied with the inside of your shirt. It's why I didn't let the last one run away uninjured." 

Shiro relaxed into Frost's hand slightly, "Why are you petting me?" 

"Hmm?" Frost looked confused for half a moment, "You always pet me and it feels calming. I figured you would find it calming too." 

"Oh," Shiro exclaimed softly, her cheeks a slight red in color. 

"Similar to how I could be talking telepathically as we usually do but figured that actually hearing my voice would be a better comfort." 

Shiro looked up at him, "You think about the little details a lot, don't you?" 

"And you don't." Frost didn't wait for an answer before continuing with an almost wicked grin, "Too bad I can't stay in this form longer, I think I have come attached to it." 

Shiro shoved herself off his shoulder to look him in the eyes, "Why?" 

Frost matched her look with a lazy one, "I can't follow you around as a human, it will raise too many questions." He began to smirk evilly, "But that isn't what you're asking of course. I like this form because as a wolf when I lick you, you don't really react. Now if I were to do the human equivalent," Frost suddenly kissed Shiro on the cheek causing her to turn a dark crimson in color, which Frost seemingly ignored, "you react quite differently." 

Shiro stood quickly, knocking away Frost's comfort. "I think I am going to go to bed now, it is rather late." 

Frost smiled as he waited for her to crawl under the covers before he shifted back into a wolf and lay down next to her. He waited until he was sure Shiro believed that he thought her to be asleep, 'It is three in the afternoon.’

"Shit!" Shiro rolled over and lightly shoved him off the bed. 

Frost dramatically fell off the bed before he landed on all fours. ‘Just something to remember the next time you try and avoid a conversation. Worry not, I don't expect us to continue, but I do plan on reading that book we borrowed and I would prefer to do so on the bed. If you are going to shove me again though I may as well stay down here.’ 

Shiro rolled her eyes at her cocky dragon; first, he makes her blush after she had been scared witless, then he has her completely calm and tranquil again. "Come on up you big lump, if you are staying in that form you need me to turn the pages for you." 

'Says you.’ Frost laughed while jumping lightly back onto the bed; book held gingerly in his mouth. ‘Though I do need you for the demonstrations, I learn faster that way.’ 

They were only 3 pages in when their locked door flew open to reveal the strict instructor in all things alchemical.

 "I have three students claiming they were physically assaulted during a strictly magical duel with you! That is against the rules!"

 Shiro felt a surge of anger, she was being played as the villain? After what they did to her? What they almost did? 

 Frost shoved his muzzle into her ear to calm her, even being angry himself, he knew assaulting a teacher wasn't going to solve anything, ‘Stay calm, explain, if she doesn't listen; I will eat her."’

‘Your dragon form won't fit in my room, plus eating her may cause slight problems.’ Shiro took a calming breath and addressed her teacher. "Professor Eagle, did these students also tell you that our strictly magical duel started with them collaring Frost and physically pinning me to a wall?" Shiro's hand on Frost started to shake, "Did they tell you it wasn't me that inflicted their injuries? I don't know how strong you think I am, but I doubt myself capable of knocking out three men, all larger than me, without the use of magic."

Professor Eagle was known to believe wholly and completely in the rules and was extremely strict when she believed them to be broken. Thankfully she was also unlike many other teachers and wouldn't punish a student that wasn't in the wrong.

Without another word she promptly turned around and left, closing the door behind her.

 Shiro looked down at Frost at the same moment he looked at her. ‘I think that is the first teacher I have met that doesn't just hate you on some sort of principal. You think she noticed I was reading? I think I would regret having to eat her.’

 Shiro couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. The serious, contemplating look Frost had was just too priceless. "I don't know what it says about me that I find you talking about eating people absolutely hilarious."

 Frost grinned wolfishly at her, ‘Nothing good I am sure.’

 It took an hour for the professor to return, this time she at least knocked before entering. "I apologize for my earlier behavior, rules were broken, though not by you." She stopped to adjust her glasses. The light glinted off of them and cast a menacing look to her face. "The proper villains have been punished and the truth extracted. Though I have returned to inquire about the identity of the white-haired male. The villains claimed that at some point the unidentified male claimed that you belong to him, this states you should have knowledge of his existence. He is not a known student or teacher, his existence in the school breaks the rules and he must be apprehended."

 Shiro and Frost looked at each other, ‘I don't think she is leaving without an answer.’

 ‘Does that mean I will really have to eat her? I'm not actually hungry right now.’

 ‘Maybe we can strike some sort of deal with her using her love of rules.’

‘I can follow her as a spider or something to make sure she doesn't tell, but you have to stay in the room, I'm not leaving you unprotected.’

 A tapping foot interrupted their silent discussion, "Staring at your frost wolf will not yield answers, nor will it allow you to telepathically order him to attack me."

 Shiro gaped at the professor, "Why would I tell him to do that? I am more likely to ask him to do a jig"

 Frost sat up and glared at Shiro.

 "I wouldn't ask you to do a jig, that's the point."

 Frost nodded and laid back down, ears pointed in the direction of Professor Eagle.

 The professor was now staring at them, her mouth almost agape. "It is illogical, he understood, he nodded, that's mythological."

 Shiro and Frost inwardly winced realizing their mistake.

 "Shit. Frost, could you?"

 Frost got up off the bed, closed the door, and locked it with his muzzle.

 "Please sit Professor. There is a lot to tell you, and you won't believe half of it."

 Frost pushed the desk chair over to the professor and jumped on the bed behind Shiro as the professor collapsed slowly in the chair.

 "I guess I will start by explaining the man. He is allowed to be here even though he isn't a student or teacher." Shiro paused, "He is a bonded creature."

 The professor was about to retaliate about the impossibility of it but stopped when she saw the look in Shiro's eyes. "Continue."

 Shiro sighed, this was hard, "I can only continue if you swear to me no other living soul will hear of this. I claim the right of teacher-student confidentiality."

 Professor Eagle looked highly offended, "Of course, it is a rule that anything said in confidence to a member of the facility may not be spoken to another soul except in cases of extreme illegal activity." She pushed her glasses higher causing them to glint again, "It is the rules!"

 ‘Yep, I actually like this one. I could see her bonding with a sphynx if she could find a living one.’ Frost grinned.

 Shiro shoved him lightly and looked back to the professor. Shiro felt that she may actually be able to trust someone for once, it was a strange feeling. "Thank you, Professor. The white-haired man in the fight was Frost."

 "That' is absur..." Professor Eagle's words died as Frost leapt off the bed in the form of a wolf and landed gracefully as a human before he bowed towards her.

 Telepathically, Shiro congratulated him, ‘You seem to have figured out the whole clothes thing.’

 ‘It was only difficult the first time.’

 ‘Show off.’

 Frost grinned before straightening and giving Shiro a wink, 'Only for you.’

 Professor Eagle starred wide-eyed, "How? Telepathy, shape-shifting? Child, what are you? What is he? Certainly not a frost wolf."

 Sitting on the bed so as not to look imposing, it was Frost that answered, "I am a dragon. I chose to bond with this human that reflects me." He tilted his head to look at the professor, "You may learn telepathy yourself if you could find a sphynx to bond with."

 Shiro elbowed him to stop before he offended her and they both sat in silence waiting for the professor to say something, or even show some change in facial expression.

 After several silent minutes had passed, the professor stood up. "You will henceforth have lessons with me every Saturday at 1700 hours." The professor unlocked the door and left. Almost out of earshot she muttered, "Apparently my own education is lacking and in need of immediate correction." before the door closed behind her.

 They sat in silence a few moments longer to process the professor's reaction before Frost said, "Definitely would have regretted eating her."

 Shiro collapsed into giggles that lasted until Frost, tiring of them, grabbed her and ruffed her hair. "Come on giggles we have more studying if we are going to survive to see you graduate."

[trash-bag-of-stuff]

Potential - Prologue

Next chapter

Word count: 1229

___

Potential. No one knows who first discovered it, but as far back as the history of Athax goes, it has always determined who was most powerful. Potential, when unlocked, can turn into powers. One may even call them superpowers.

But methods of unlocking it were… painful. Gruesome even. A cluster of nerves, right alongside the spine, contained the trigger point. To unlock Potential, a needle is inserted into the nerve cluster, and an electric current is passed through it. As you can probably guess, this could cause some… complications. Unsterilized needles could spread diseases, too high of an electric shock could fry you from the inside out. Or the needle could miss the cluster and hit your spine, along with the nerves in it, causing paralysis or brain damage. Despite the risk, people were desperate. Ridiculous sums of money were spent on these failed surgeries. If the surgery was successful, you became famous and powerful. If it went wrong… You were left for dead, drowning in madness or taken to an asylum of sorts, if you weren’t too “broken”, to be experimented on. People weren’t aware of what was happening if the surgery went wrong. They knew that it was dangerous, but they assumed that people died during the surgery or were taken care of in their final moments. When the truth was uncovered, people were furious. Some believed that it was disgusting and inhumane. Others believed that it was a risk that you should be prepared for. It escalated to the point of a civil war that later became known as The War For Power. After the war there was an agreement to take further precautions and stop unregistered companies from performing the surgery. All of the huge corporations in charge of unlocking Potential were forced to take extra precautions which, of course, hiked up the price by a lot. But there are always cheaper options. Much riskier. Much lower standards. People who still used much larger needles for a better chance of hitting the right nerves, a higher voltage so that even if they missed the cluster it might still work. You could only ever tell who was desperate enough to turn to these methods by the little star shaped scar on their back from where the needle was inserted.                     **************************************** And so our story begins, with two young and reckless lovebirds. Both with Potential, neither unlocked. And so, in their carefree youth, they decided to take a risk, being too poor to afford the proper surgery. They were both incredibly lucky and unlocked their rather ordinary powers. He got the simple ability to memorize anything, while she got telekinesis, the power to move objects with her mind. They went about with their lives until she fell pregnant with a baby boy who they named North. When a child is born, their Potential is measured. Everyone expected North to have a pretty average Potential considering his parents. What they didn’t expect was an almost unprecedented amount of potential locked inside the frail child. His parents, not having enough money to get his Potential officially unlocked, decided to take him to the same place that they went. And so, on his 3rd birthday, he was promised the best present ever. Unlocked Potential. Deluded by their own success, they handed him over without hesitation. Their dreams were quickly shattered a few hours later when they were delivered their child accompanied with some bad news. His arm was paralysed from the shoulder down, never to be used again. They vowed to never tell him of what they did. North went for five whole years, accepting the fact that he couldn’t use his arm and assuming that it was just a birth defect. Until his 8th birthday. North enjoyed school. He was good at the work part, what he didn’t like was the socialization. Therefore, it was obvious that gym would be his least favourite class. Exercise while surrounded by people judging you? Not exactly fun for him. North was in the bathroom getting changed before gym when a few other boys walked in. “No way!” North turned around to find four boys staring at his bare back with their mouths hanging open. “W-What?” North said, his voice shaking. “Your back. That scar.” “Scar?” North was confused and ran over to the mirror. There it was. A little star shaped scar, identical to the ones left by needles when illegally unlocking potential… “North? North!” The voices were far off, like they were calling him from deep underground. The sound of rushing water filled his ears as he pulled on his shirt and sprinted out of the changing rooms. He could feel the burn of the tears in his eyes and his vision blurring. Past the classrooms, out the door he ran until he couldn’t run any further. After reaching an abandoned park, feeling confident in being alone, he started crying. Slowly the sobs became more violent until they wracked his entire body. It all made sense. Why his parents always avoided the topic of Potential. Why they looked at him like he was a disappointment. Why his left arm was paralysed. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there crying but when he finally stood up his eyes were sore, his back ached and the sun had gone down. Feet dragging, he started making his way back home, wondering what he would say to his parents. Eventually he just gave up and decided to just deal with whatever happened. What happened was a screaming match between him and his parents. They insisted that they had his best interests at heart. “If you really loved me you would have told the truth!” The sentence echoed around the now silent room. There were no tears, North had cried himself out already, so he just ran up to his room to hide under the covers feeling like his world had just split in half, and knowing that he would never forgive his parents.

                    ****************************************

Birthdays don’t seem to really be North’s strong point do they? This fact was only further cemented when he ended falling out of a tree and onto some pretty sharp rocks on his 9th birthday. This resulted in a bit of a predicament. Not only did he break his arm, but a few pieces of stone got buried pretty deep in it, which he refused to let his parents tend to. Without any treatment, an infection started to spread until it got to the point where he was forced into hospital. Think he couldn’t get a worse present than a paralysed arm or betrayal? How about a late birthday present where his whole arm had to be amputated due to the extent of the infection. The car ride home after his hospital stay was tense. No one spoke, even though his mother kept making as if she was going to apologize, but she never did. A couple of months later, his luck took a turn for the worse if that’s possible. A mysterious house fire, possibly from an unattended stove. He was the only one who got out alive. His parents weren’t so lucky. Not that the police knew that, of course. When they arrived, they assumed that he had died with them in the fire, giving him the perfect cover to run away, and grow up on the streets.

Next chapter

Tag list:

@nice-jewish-lesbian

@just-a-marvel-fan

@your-villainous-neighbour

@the-spiritual-bisexual

@floor-based

[safestsephiroth]

#FFXIVWrite - #6: First Steps - Asagao Shiragiko

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

This is the start of a short series of posts.

Part two link is here.

Part three link is here.

Part four link here.

Part five link here.

Part six link here.

Part seven link here.

Part Final link here. Featuring art by @beansnake !

Nothing kept away the sweltering Hingashi summer heat, this far into the countryside. In fact, it was only the breeze from the ocean nearby that provided any relief at all. But at least her hat kept the sun from her eyes.

Asagao Shiragiko held her katana firmly at her side. One hand at its sheath. The youth before her couldn't have been more than seventeen. His own katana looked too ornate to have been something obtained from a local smith. It would have to have had value, somewhere. And given the fear on the boy's face, the blood on the blade - and the wounded man at the youth's feet, whose own bloodied sword had fallen from his grip - there was more to this than a senseless attack.

"He tried to take my sword," the youth said. The blade wobbled. Even from ten yalms away, she could see as much.

"I see."

"I'm a samurai," he said. "Just because I left - that doesn't mean I'm not."

"You are correct." Her voice was calm. Even. "No one can take that from you. No one can strip who you are from you. But I think it plain this was a misunderstanding."

"No." The boy re-aligned his grip. She could see he had some training, to be sure - but he was weak on his left. The arm hung lower than it ought.

The red of his sleeve was darker, there.

"Are you injured?"

"I don't need your help, miss. Please. Just don't get involved."

A groan from the man on the ground. His face was turning pale. Even moreso than the boy's.

"You're scared. Wounded. But you will let not others take from you your pride as a samurai." Her grip at her sword relaxed. She straightened her posture. "This is a good thing. But you must understand that you, and you alone, have the power to throw it away. You have a responsibility to carry yourself with honor, else you spit in your own eye. What honor is there in forcing a fallen foe to bleed to death?" She shook her head. "Either kill him, or back away from him. Then we will talk."

"I don't..." He looked down. Looked into the man's eyes. Clenched his jaw. Stepped back. Flicked his sword, wiped the blood from it, and slid it into its sheathe.

Asagao hurried forward, tending the fallen man's wounds.

"Stupid... brat..."

Her hand 'slipped' - a high-pitched groan.

"Ah, my apologies. Too much pressure. It would be easier to tend to you if you /did not speak/."

He caught the message. Clamped his jaw shut. Glaring. When she had finished tying the final bandage, she turned to the boy. He was seated near the cliffside. Gazing out towards the ocean. She walked over.

"Go away."

"I think you and I both know leaving you here would be a poor decision on my part. You made the wise decision. And not the one driven by passion."

"He tried to take my sword from me. It's my sword."

"It is beautiful." She sat ten fulms away. Looked out to the ocean. "Who created it?"

"My grandfather made the signature illegible. I don't know why. Nobody does. He must have hated the smith."

"It's possible." Birds chirped. Waves crashed against the rocks below.

"Why did you step in?"

She looked to the boy. Smiled. "I'll trade you. I'll tell you why I got involved if you tell me why you left home."

"...Okay. It's a deal. But you first."

"Of course." She looked back out to the sea. "When I first left home, I was sent to guard a shrine. My family did not wish to keep me around. They said I needed to stop criticizing the nobility and their petty games that they feed innocent lives into. That it doesn't matter who's in charge, not really, so long as Hingashi is happy, and strong, and prosperous. And that, therefore, anyone who used a position of leadership to prevent that to put themselves ahead must either change or be replaced."

The boy was silent.

She continued on regardless. "I was so mad at them. I wanted to go back and cut down the nobles. I wasn't a better swordswoman than their best, but I thought... if I just get one, or two, it'd make everyone think about what had happened. It'd make them see they have to find a better way. That others would follow my example. But I was wrong."

"Did you pray to the Kami? At the shrine, I mean."

"At first. But nothing happened. And nothing changed. And one day, I realized that the shrine didn't matter. The Kami do nothing for us. They are a comfort. But comfort prevents growth. Growing, prospering... These things are hard."

"Oh." He looked down.

"Of course, you may still pray to them, if you like."

"No, it's not that. My father wanted me to be a monk. But my oldest brother said he wanted to, despite my father wishing him to be a warrior. So we swapped."

"You've run from home, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

The breeze blew past.

"I'm gonna be executed, aren't I."

"Why would you be executed?"

"I attacked him."

"He tried to take your sword."

"I'm sixteen. He's an adult. Nobody will believe me."

"Is that truly what you think?"

"Why would they? I already ran from home. I'm gonna get caught, and then they'll listen to him, and I'll be executed, and my family will hate me, and I'll haunt the countryside until an Onmyoji hunts and kills me again, and scatters my soul."

"Hmm." She rubbed her chin. Looked skyward. "I thought you were a samurai. I didn't know you were an oracle, too."

"I /am/ a samurai. I'm /not/ an oracle." He glared at her.

"Then perhaps you should focus on the present, and leave the future to someone else." She looked at him. Smiled. "Right now, you are in the presence of a fugitive known for meddling in government affairs, and a man who assaulted you is currently bandaged up. You know how to tend wounds, don't you?"

"I mean. Yeah. I learned when I was six."

"Then it sounds to me like the old man was imagining things all wrong. Must've been confused. He didn't believe you were a samurai, and look at you. How clear, and calm, you'll be talking. How well-put-together you'll seem."

"...What?"

"You patched him up, after all. Why would some strange, wandering samurai have stopped to help and /not/ cut you down on the spot?"

The boy looked down, brow furrowed. Eyes shifting.

"I'm Asagao." She smiled. "What's your name?"

He looked back up. "Etsuji."

"It's been nice to meet you. I find the ocean calming, too. You can stay there for now, alright?"

"Okay."

With that, she rose, and returned to the wounded man. He had propped himself up against a nearby rock.

"The cut was shallower than it seemed," she said.

"Then you are a fool," he grumbled.

"I have offered you respect, and saved your life. I demand it in return."

He looked up to her, a pained expression. "Fine."

"What happened?"

"I know that sword. It belonged to an old friend of mine. And he had no heirs when he died."

"So you thought it stolen."

"I know it stolen."

"And so you sought to take it from him?"

"A child does not deserve such a weapon."

"A child, no. But what of a samurai?"

"That child is no samurai."

"And yet he bested you in a fight. One you started."

He scowled. "I misjudged him, is all."

"Then perhaps you should cease doing so." She looked to his sword. He had put it back at his waist. "Ah. A spider crest."

"I wear my clan with pride. Unlike a child."

"Then I already know how to find you."

His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"The boy caused no lasting him. He has learned his lesson. He will not harm you again. And I saved your life. You will repay me by refusing to testify against him. You will instead admit it was a misunderstanding, and that neither of you is at fault. The boy will be released, either to his family's custody or his own. You will not trouble him again."

"And what does an upstart like you know about what I will do?"

"I know your type," she said, simply. "You may deny my request, and live the rest of your days wondering if it will be the day your lord is slain beneath your nose. You may wonder whether your castle will burn, whether your people will be slain, and whether your family will live on after your death. Or you may let this go, eliminate a threat in so doing, and live as peacefully as you would otherwise have."

He stared a long moment. She stared right back.

"...Fine."

She returned, once more, to Etsuji. He was praying. She waited. Until, finally, he addressed her.

"Asagao. What should I do?"

"Well. Once you speak with the authorities, I suspect they will not hold you long. You may return to your family, if you desire. You may wander on your own, still. Perhaps pawn your sword and find another life. But I think neither of those suit you." She smiled. "Should you desire to learn my way - a way I think is better than what you otherwise head for - then I will be willing to teach you. But it is up to you to take the first step."

"I... I see." He closed his eyes. "I want to think it over."

"I will not stray from the village nearby until I have your answer. Take your time." With that, she turned and walked off.

He would agree. She was sure of it. Her mind turned, briefly, to the assassin known as The Chameleon. To the boy he had pointlessly slaughtered for the crime of happening to be in his path. She could not bring him back. She could not save the dead. But she could save this one.

She had to.

[therandomletters]

The downfall

(Just a little warning before we start. If you are reading this for some reason I want to let you know, there’s mention of consuming drugs and depression/synthons of mental illness in this series. So please if you feel like you can get triggered by any of those topics, please don’t read)

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1

As his hand reached for the switch of the lamp on the nightstand he knocked down the old sketchbook that had been occupying space next to an empty bottle of pills and a half empty glass of water, it would be surprising if he didn’t knock down the glass and the bottle too.

James finally managed to turn the lamp on, which made him squint his eyes before the blinding light. It wasn’t even that bright, it was dim and almost inexistent since the had put a pair of his underwear on top so it would provide less light. But he stayed out of the sun or any kind of light for most days, so the slightest ray of sunshine or artificial light bothered him.

Things had been rough for the past few years, but during holidays everything became ten times harder and since Jazz had arrived he just felt like not leaving his bed. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his sister to death, but changes, as small as that one was, were a whole deal for the young boy.

Jazz had been trying to get him out of bed since he decided he was better there, what she didn’t know was that her attempts only made him want to say in more. This made it easier for him to change his schedule. Sleep during the day, get out and wasted at night.

The getting wasted part was a recent thing, for the past year or so he had been sneaking out of the house at night to meet with Stella - back in high school she was known for being the main provider of anything illegal you could ask for. Even if it was hard to believe for James, some things still remained the same, Stella’s business was one of those.

That is where our boy was heading to, Stella’s basement. Surprisingly enough the girl had taken him under her wing, meaning she liked hanging out with him and since James wasn’t just going to take whatever she gave her to bring it home, he stayed in her basement for the night either drinking or taking whatever new pills Stella had - in the hopes that doing that would give him a few minutes of complete silence, away from everything and everyone. That was what James was seeking, the feeling of the world going quiet.

“Heard your siblings are back home” Stella was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and head leaned back as she took a puff of the joint she was smoking.

James was laying on the couch, eyes closed as he listened to the soft music playing on the back and now Stella’s talking. Both sounds were muffled due to the effect of the pills she had given him when he first arrived.

Because of the strong effect they caused, he had to take it slow and get in that laying position, too weak to even respond to her comment.

“Also all the Barnes” she made an emphasis on ‘all’ in the hopes of getting a response from James.

That made James laugh a little, which Stella didn’t quite understand, but also didn’t question. What she didn’t know is how James had been avoiding the Barnes for the longest time. Family diner on the weekends? Don’t count him in. Any of them at his house? Find him locking his door and blasting some music. And of course no coming anywhere near their house.

Again, this is nothing personal against them, he had a deep love for his extended family, but spending even five minutes with them would take James who knows how long to recover. It didn’t matter how many things he tried, nothing would work to overcome the feeling that takes over his body whenever he does something that reminds him how things used to be.

“Including Alex” Stella wasn’t much of a patient person and James not answering wasn’t helping her with that, so she went straight to the point.

One of the many times he had gotten drunk in that same basement he had told Stella a lot about his life, and Stella wasn’t blind, she had witnessed James’ behavior back in high school herself. The few people James floated around – mostly his siblings - and the way he looked at Alex Barnes.

Silence remained as James’ answer, he was listening, but didn’t feel like even starting to talk about it.

“Are you still alive over there?” she asked punching his leg.

The music on the background was the only sound that filled the room for the next couple of minutes, until James felt the punch she had given him and he reacted.

“Yea” James groaned “you have more?” he asked after a while, extending his arm with his palm opened, thinking she would straight away would give him what he wanted.

“Dude, forget about overdosing in my basement, I’m not giving you any more pills” sure, Stella had a guaranteed business with James, but she wasn’t stupid, she needed to set some boundaries - otherwise James would keep going one after another until he wouldn’t wake up, also the boy had grown on her and she didn’t feel like watching him die in her old couch.

“You’re a party pooper” Stella found funny the way wasted James talks - he slurs every word and his voice gets deeper and raspier.

“And you need to get your dick suck to blow off some steam” she chuckled, slapping James’ hand away.

“No shit, Sherlock” his eyes opened slightly, he was trying to focus his eyes on her, although everything was pretty blurry “do you wanna suck it?” he asked, his eyebrows raising at the same time as his goofy smile.

“Maybe” she took a second to take another puff of the joint “If I were into dicks” the high couple of friends looked at each other, keeping the stare contest for a little longer until both of them cracked laughing.

Eventually the laughing died down and none of them said anything else. James was still very much in a different world while Stella had changed positions to lay completely on the floor, staring at the ceiling, which was painted with a weird attempt of a replica of the starry night – it looked awful.

“I’m hungry” James announced out of the blue.

When he didn’t get a reply from Stella he started the process to get up from the couch. First step was changing to a sitting position, second step – rest for a couple of minutes until the room stopped spinning.

After that he managed to get up and stumble to the old dresser, where normally he would find the first drawer full of snacks, but this time when James opened it there was nothing.

“you gotta be kidding me” he mumbled, checking the rest of the drawers to see if maybe he had made a mistake and it was a different one, but no luck – all of them were empty.

“Don’t waste your time, there’s no food” Stella informed him.

“I’ll go get some” there was a 24-hours-open shop not too far away and even though he was so tired he had to drag his feet in order to walk and ever more on drugs - he was hungrier.

“you’re gonna freeze your ass” Stella was too high to make it sound like the cold weather was a real problem and James still didn’t give a fuck, so he left.

He put his hood on and went outside into the snowy and windy night. The cold wind against his skin made it feel like a thousand tiny needles were being stabbed on the face, which helped him a little to be back into the real world.

The streets were empty, something to be expected at 3 a.m., but still a nice surprise for James, who decided to take his time to wander under the faded street lights. He thought it was a good idea to eat some snow, but it wasn’t – the after taste was sickening.

For a moment he forgot where he was going, even where he was in that moment, but when he saw the lights of the store in the middle of the parking lot he remembered he was actually hungry and his mission was to get some snacks.

Obviously the store was deserted. The only person there was the clerk, who couldn’t care less about James’ presence, his attention was focused on the comic he was reading and that was simply perfect for James.

He walked with heavy feet through the store, lights too bright for his own liking, and after grabbing some doritos and a few chocolate bars he went into the liquor section. He checked for any cameras pointing at him or to the bored clerk to see if he was looking at him, he wasn’t, so James took one of the smaller bottles of ron and hide it under his hoodie.

Shoplifting wasn’t a regular thing for James, this was maybe the second time he was doing it, and the rush of adrenaline through his body after he walks out into the cold again it’s what makes it worth it.

“I don’t even like this shit” he said to himself as he pulled the bottle outside to take a better look at it.

Taste wasn’t something important for him anymore anyways, he was down to drink whatever that gets him out of the agony that meant to be himself. That’s why he opened the bottle and took a long gulp, feeling how it burned down his throat.

“Fuck” he groaned before continuing his way to Stella’s basement. And maybe you’re thinking what a bad idea it is to mix alcohol and pills, James knows it, the problem is he doesn’t care.

The idiot kept drinking on his less than ten-minute walk, being more and more intoxicated by the second. In those conditions he couldn’t recall feeling much, but he knew the feeling was something he hadn’t experienced before.

He could feel his heart pounding really fast on his chest, his legs were failing him along with his hands, they were too weak to even hold the bottle of alcohol anymore. The light in the street seemed to be less and less bright as the stumbled with trouble. Next thing he knows he collapsed on the snow, unable to move any part of his body or even keep his eyes open.

About five minutes after James fell unconscious was when a very much high Stella found him, he had made it to her house, but not inside. The sight of the boy’s body, looking like he was dead, was the perfect thing to activate her emergency mode and make sure he was still alive.

There was pulse, slow and she could be perfectly getting confused by her own pulse, which was racing giving the circumstances, but she wanted to believe that James Rogers hadn’t overdosed on her front yard.

First thing she did was to move him on a different position, on his side, because the plan was make him throw up and empty his stomach from all he had taken in.

She tried, with the best of her abilities she had developed over the years, but he wasn’t reacting and that is when she reached for her phone to call 911. As if James knew what she was about to do he started to throw up every single thing he had eaten that day.

Stella dropped her phone and helped him to stay in the position he was in, she even tried the rubbing back thing, but it only made her more nervous since the boy was shaking like crazy.

Once he stopped throwing up – for the moment – Stella helped him up, one of his arms over her shoulders and of hers around his waist to help him stay up and make it inside the house, where she helped him to lay on the couch – on his side, of course – and went to get as many blankets as she could find, not only he could overdose but also, what if he was hypothermic? She had no idea how long he had been outside in the cold, he was lucky she thought about going out to see if he was coming back.

James was going in and out of consciousness, it depended if he was throwing up or not, but the entire picture looked scary, life threatening scary. That left Stella with no other option but to call an ambulance, she knew that wouldn’t be James’ choice and he will surely be very mad at her, but not calling an ambulance meant that maybe he didn’t get the chance of being mad at her, because he would be dead.