#i might finish rendering this another day

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (7)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: again, I'm thanking all of yous for fueling the chemical override fire! Your comments/messages are so sweet and hilarious and wild - just as this story demands <3 Happy reading!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The arrangement you and Ewan share is in place, but jealousy rears its ugly head when another costar takes an interest in you. It isn't Aemond's allegiance that renders Ewan green-eyed, so to speak...

London

Whenever Ewan needs you, you answer the call.

Because, in truth, you need him too. This might not be the most savoury of arrangements; it might not be what you pictured in your head when you thought of getting back together.

But this way, you can have him, and he can have you.

It's a win-win situation. Even if you're not his, and he's not yours, as he so nicely put it.

So you're there when his need arises. Which, as it happens, arises often - intense, wanton, and greedy. He takes you for himself, your body left littered with markings that can only be from his teeth, his fingers, his aching manhood.

Beads of sweat would cloud your vision as the side of your face is pressed to the mattress, your legs bent to give him better access, so that he sinks deeper. He would whisper, - you're mine... you're mine... fuckin' mine, darling - when he leans down to pant roughly in your ear, momentarily forgetting about the one condition of this whole thing.

You're not his. But as he finishes inside of you, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss, you also have it in you to conveniently forget.

Your respective apartments in London set the stage for your trysts. Ewan comes over so often that he's had to use the back entrance, after getting papped once on a foggy Sunday morning, leaving your apartment building in the same clothes that he wore when he entered at midnight.

LATE NIGHT RENDEZVOUS! - on page 6! Game of Thrones spinoff stars can't get enough of each other!

When Ewan said that the whole thing was going to be a secret, he must have failed to account for the near-impossibility of that notion for a celebrity.

What can be kept secret for those in your line of work?

A romance between two young, highly coveted actors will see the light of day eventually, aided by the blinding flashes of papparazzi cameras.

Predictably, your friends catch on and demand to know how you little lovebirds found your way back together, because of course, they always knew you would.

Sadly, you have to burst Phia's bubble when she calls one evening. "We're not back together."

A pause. She mulls it over. "But the papers..."

"I know."

"He's been seeing you... " She claims, her tone growing unsure.

"He has."

"Then what... oh." You can practically picture the realisation coming across her face. Would it be accompanied by distaste or disappointment? Neither is good anyhow.

"We're seeing each other. But, not really, if you get what I mean."

"No!" she exclaims. You can hear shuffling in the background, like she just slammed the book she was reading shut. "Whose brilliant idea was this?"

"That's doesn't mat - "

"It's Ewan's, isn't it?" she answers, confirming her own suspicion. "That little devious bastard."

"It's not his fault," you find yourself shaking your head, then you startle as the buzzer to your apartment gets your attention. The routine is in place - it's the receptionist letting you know that Ewan is in the lobby. Speak of the devil...

Hmm. You walk to the intercom to let him upstairs, thinking of him coming to claim his prize. But he's not the devil - he's my twisted angel, whose heart I broke.

Phia isn't finished. "What do you mean, it's not his fault? If this was his idea, then let me just talk to the lad and screw his bloody head on straight."

You stand by the door, waiting for his arrival, because whenever Ewan needs you, you're there.

You need him too.

"Phi, I... I want this," you reply. "I have to go."

"Babe, we're not done here. You're not getting off easy."

"I know, I know," you smile at her genuine concern. "Maybe you're right, maybe this all wrong." But...

You know you don't have to say it outright. It's there to see, clear as day.

You love him.

She sighs loudly, resigning herself to the truth of her friend's predicament. "You'll figure this out, the both of you."

"Hope so, Phi." The doorbell rings. You rush through your goodbyes, dropping the call with a promise to keep her updated on what she deems a ridiculous situation.

You greet him at the door, and he stands there, with his black hoodie obscuring his face like he's Daemon about to do some nefarious act of sorts. And he just might. He chews on his lip, and smirks as he takes you in.

"Darling," he greets as he lets himself in. He shrugs off his hoodie and drops it in its usual corner, before beckoning for you with his arms reaching.

He runs his fingers through your hair, as he kisses your neck and inhales your scent, purring, " - fuckin' missed you, beautiful - " as his skilled fingers find the hem of your old shirt.

"My darling girl," he says, and you so badly want to hate him, because he's not being fair. Why does he get to act like this matters to him, when he made it clear that this is only so both your needs are met? Why does he look at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in hope, with those same blue eyes that blazed when he once said he loved you?

How can you make sure that you don't fall back in love with him, when that love was never truly gone?

"Ewan," you moan as he pushes you against a wall, his rough hands kneading your flesh. You help him pull his shirt over his head, and your fingers drag upward along his skin until it finds the silver chain around his neck. You use it to pull him even closer, not a breadth of space between you.

He kisses you, and it's like an anchor finding home.

Yours or his, it matters little.

It nearly bubbles out of the two of you - those forbidden three words - each time his hips slam right into yours. It's almost there, fighting, waiting to be heard. His 'I really do fucking love you', and your 'I'm sorry about everything, about lying, all I ever wanted was you.'

Nearly. If only things were that simple.

He never stays for long afterward. Small talk is shared - about his new film, the ongoing production for yours, the upcoming engagements you both have for season 3 of House of the Dragon. The bloody weather, even.

The holidays have come and gone, and soon the two of you will again have to fly out to work - you, back to Atlanta; him, to LA for the pre-production of his film with Jenna Ortega.

He took on the film after all, and you should be relieved, but it's hard to feel any sense of ease when you know he will have to be with her in a way that he can't be with you. To the rest of the world, soon enough, they will have to play at being together. Your only claim to him rests in between the sheets, in the countless hollow trysts to be shared.

He doesn't reach for you after the deed is done, after his clothes are back in place and his hair is relieved of that post-sex tousle. As if touching you would cast him aflame.

But you feel his eyes linger on you, all the time, especially when you try to avert your gaze.

What is he thinking, you wonder. Who does he see?

On his way out, he has to deal with an obstacle in order to retrieve his hoodie. An adorable one, at that. Your black Bobtail cat, Sansa, nestles comfortably atop it. Her paws grip the cotton material of the hoodie as Ewan tries to pull it away.

"She likes you," you smile at the sight of Ewan gingerly trying to lift Sansa so she doesn't lash out at him. Even though the likelihood to that is low, with Sansa taking so well to Ewan's constant presence, so much so that you sometimes find her meowing at the door waiting for him to come back. The traitor.

"Good girl," he whispers to her, his hoodie almost released from the weight of her fluffy shape. "That's it."

Then he turns to you, smiling as he shrugs his hoodie back on. "I don't think she wants me to leave."

Like mother, like daughter, comes your thought. But when he straightens, and appraises you with a sideways glance, an amused hum escaping his lips, you realise that you said it out loud.

He smirks openly to himself, his ego blossoming. You roll your eyes at him, mumbling, "Oh, give me a break."

He simply shrugs, walking over to the door.

"I'll call you," he calls over his shoulder as a matter of courtesy, but he sounds uncertain, and the question lingers. Please don't say no, his tone practically begs.

How can you ever?

Arms crossed in an attempt to act nonchalant, leaning against the wall, you smile and say, "Try not to miss me too much, Mitchell."

His eyes linger as they always do. "Impossible task," he responds, casually, unaware that he just upended your whole world with his words.

He solidifies the grip he has on you, before he leaves.

And so the fucked up cycle continues.

Los Angeles

A ginger tabby cat slinks around Ewan's ankles as he sits in the director's office, reminding him of your Sansa and the way she would slink in between your bodies the moment she finds an opening, which is usually after the heated roll in the hay.

He smiles to himself on instinct, remembering how you once shared that you wanted to adopt another cat, preferably a Ragdoll, and name him Benjicat.

"Benjicat?" Ewan had asked.

"Yeah," you smiled, as you stroked a purring Sansa between her ears. "Benjicat Blackwood."

Ewan merely blinked, the connection dawning on him, the brilliance of your idea not lost on his supposedly indifferent mind. He could not hold back his warm and appreciative smile as he gazed at you, and for a moment, he pretended that things were back as they were.

He briefly had the idea that, perhaps, you should adopt the future Benjicat together.

Until the bitter thought crossed his mind - he wasn't the one who quashed that possibility first.

In the office in LA, Jenna sits daintily across from him, still aloof and somewhat of a stranger. She had given him a shy smile when she sat down at the table, exchanged pleasantries and surface-level compliments, the works.

Ewan feels nervous, almost ill at ease, and he normally would be able to single out the reasons why. It could be the notion of meeting an acclaimed director and his future costars. Trying not to stumble on his words, messing up their first impression of him. Maybe he had chainsmoked one cigarette too many before the meeting, worsening the anxiety-inducing effect of his staple black coffee with six sugars.

But this is different. He knows the thing he is dreading is when the matter of the PR business will be brought up.

So he doesn't know what emotion comes over him when the director, Autumn de Wilde, lightly remarks in an attempt to break the tension, "So, Ewan, how's your girlfriend?"

"M-my girlfriend?"

"Yeah," she says jovially, "your costar right? It's all over the socials."

"Oh, I love her," Jenna chimes in. "Is she back in England or is she filming somewhere?"

She's not my girlfriend, is what he should say, but he can't push the words out of his mouth. He's not even sure he wants to. After all, that is why he had the idea for the friends with benefits arrangement in the first place - because he can't cope with the fact that you're not his girfriend anymore.

"Mmm, yeah, she's - uhhh - she's filming in Atlanta," Ewan answers, dodging the main question, but not really.

"Well, say hello to her for me," Autumn says. "She's a keeper, huh? What with her being okay with the PR bullshit you will have to do."

Jenna purses her lips apologetically at him, then remarks, "I don't like that Bruce guy. I know some people who worked with him, and they share the sentiment."

Ewan feels lighter, knowing that they're on the same page. He asks tentatively, "That PR thing... is it set in stone or - ?"

Autumn sighs, "Apparently so, kid. But I heard along the grapevine that great ol' Brucey is dealing with some suit and he might have to pull out of the film."

"Some suit?" Ewan asks.

"A lawsuit," Jenna says.

"Oh." What the fuck. "If he pulls out then what that does mean for us?"

"Halle-fuckin-lujah, that's what," Autumn laughs. "More creative control, more logistics control... more happiness for everyone, really."

"Does that mean the PR relationship will be scrapped?" Ewan blurts out, before sheepishly adding to Jenna, "I mean, no offense - "

"None taken," she shakes her head at him. "I never had a liking for that stuff anyway."

"Well, we'd have to consult with the rest of the execs but they're a lot more likely to be conducive to requests," Autumn says.

Ewan feels a rush of relief, one he immediately wishes he can share with you. If you only you stuck it out with him. If only you didn't leave him hanging at the first sign of trouble.

If only you weren't unsure of how you felt about him.

He calls you afterward, because he wants to, the last remaining shred of his resentment towards you be damned.

"Production nearly finished, darling?" He asks, the pretense of holding back from using the term of endearment long since abandoned.

"Mhmm, I've got one more week here in Atlanta, Mitchell."

You've gone back to calling him Mitchell - not baby, love, or anything remotely romantic.

It bothers him, but he's determined not to let it show.

"I've got about a week and a half here still."

"Then we've got season three prep in London, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I'll see you back there I suppose."

"Okay," you reply, sounding uncertain of what to say next. "Are you... is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he automatically says. "I just thought... maybe I can come see you."

He listens to your steady breathing at the other end, and it calms him. He waits in silence, until you respond with, "Aren't you busy out there, Ewan?"

He is, and he is aware that it makes him seem desperate. It has only been a few weeks since your last rendezvous back in London, and he is supposed to remain nonchalant. Unaffected. This is not supposed to be some kind of lifeline for him. The thought of you should not be what runs through his mind at every waking moment.

He contradicts all of that, when he admits, "I am, but I want to see you anyway. I can fly out for a day and we could - "

"Ewan - "

"I need you."

You sigh deeply, and he pictures the silhouette of your shoulders rising and falling, the pinch in between your brows, the concerned frown your lips take the shape of.

He misses you. Do you miss him too?

"I know," you say. "But I'll see you soon in London, okay?"

That was not the answer he wanted. There are times when you sound dispassionate and he feels like you couldn't give less of a shit about him, and it kills him.

Even though it shouldn't, and this is what he should have expected, after proposing the arrangement.

But there are also times when you give him a spark of hope to cling to.

"Besides," you muse, "we'll soon have to prepare to give the fans what they want. All the love for Aemond and Alyna surely will not be ignored by the writers. I know I'm rooting for them."

Ewan laughs, "I am too."

Aemond and Alyna. You and him. There are fans, and there are fans, and Ewan is proudly a member of the latter.

"Okay, so, I have to head back inside," you say. "I - uhhh - "

"Yeah, darling, I'll see you soon." I miss you.

"Hmm," you respond, stealing his signature line right from his lips.

He stays on the line, unwilling to let you go.

"Mitchell?" you ask.

"Yes, love?"

"I guess you missed me too much after all."

He smiles wistfully, "I guess I did."

London

Production for your film wraps in late February, just in time for the initial preparations for the upcoming season of House of the Dragon.

You arrive back in London a week before the table read, just in time to join the rest of the cast for a mini reunion at Matt's apartment.

A few drinks in, with numerous tales regaled amongst the large group about what everyone has been up to for the past half year, and you realise just how much you missed being with the cast.

They truly are the best bunch of people you could have ever dreamed of working with.

You eventually found yourselves branching off into little groups, with some preparing food in the kitchen, others smoking out in the balcony, and the rest scattered in the expanse of the apartment.

Matt's place is well-decorated for a bachelor pad, with personal knick-knacks at every corner. You note this to him, as you sit on the plush carpet in his living room. Your little half-circle consists of yourself, Matt, Phia, Liv, Bethany, and Tom, all in varying degrees of inebriation, but either of the lads arguably take the cake.

"You see that?" Matt leans close, pointing to the green shelf nestled in the corner. "On the second level right there, is a prop I stole from season one."

"No way," you squint in that direction, unaware that he gives you a good once-over, the admiration in his eyes plain to see.

The others are quick to point it out in typical fashion.

"Now, now, Smithy," Tom quips. "Try not to burn holes in the girl with yer eyes there."

"She's my babe," Phia jokes, winking at you.

"Oh really?" Matt simply leans back on his palms, unaffected. "Not Ewan's?"

"Oop - " Liv's eyes widen like saucers. "Don't even go there, Smithy."

"Why ever not?" Matt shrugs.

"Guys," you shake your head, waving a hand in dismissal. "it's fine. It's... whatever."

"He's not here," Matt says. "We can talk about it."

"Gossip girl over here," Bethany smirks.

Matt was right in pointing out that Ewan is yet to arrive back from the States. Of course, Ewan had given you a call letting you know that he would be spending the night before the table read at your apartment.

But right now, in this moment, you didn't really feel like going through the sordid details of your affair.

"We can talk about it," you say, "but I'd rather not."

Matt laughs, "Okay. But are you or are you not together?"

"Matt," Tom groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in amusement at his mate's boldness.

"Hey, it's a simple question!"

"It is, isn't it?" you shrug, allowing him that, because he is speaking true. It is supposed to be simple. "We're not actually together... but some of you already know - " you shoot Tom and Phia pointed glances " - that we had a thing once, and we may have a thing still, only lesser and more casual." You look around the group, hoping they got the gist, and that no follow-up statements are necessary.

"Hey, I get it," Bethany replies. "It sounds complicated, but it's your business, sweetheart."

You hum gratefully. The others jump on another topic, but Matt slinks closer to you, with the on-brand glint in his eyes. He says, lowly, "That's good, then."

Your mouth parts in pleasant surprise, as you finally take notice of the way he looks at you. "Say that again, Smithy?"

"You heard me," he answers. Smooth. Matt has been known to be the resident casanova of the cast, with his undeniable charm on and off set. He can get along with absolutely anyone, and this includes the array of women who get pulled in by his charisma.

It's lost on you why he would now set his sights on you, but you can't deny that you enjoy the attention.

Fabien suddenly comes into view with that digital camera of his pointed towards your group. He snaps one of Tom whose raised bottle of beer half covers his smirking face. Then he turns to you and Matt, saying, "Give papa a smile, kids!"

Matt quickly slings an arm around you, making you lean against him. He coolly points to the camera, posing like he usually does. You smile widely, your brain in a pleasant daze from the alcohol, the banter, and the alluring scent of Matt's perfume.

"Send me a copy of that, Fabs," Matt comments after. Fabien will probably post the photo on his usual Instagram slideshow, but Matt happily stays off the socials.

"Gonna get it framed?" you joke, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

"Oh, you bet," he winks at you, making you swallow nervously. Speaking to him now, in this way, you realise just how easily the Matt Smith is able to get with the ladies. Charm practically oozes off of him.

And Daemon was your original favourite, after all.

Fabien and Matt walk you and Phia back to your apartments in the wee hours of the morning. Though your neighbourhood was only 5 minutes away, the lads gallantly insisted that they wouldn't let you go without an escort.

Your group weaves its way through the empty streets of London, chatting and laughing away, the effects of the alcohol yet to wear off. At some point, Matt wraps an arm around you, and you let him keep it that way.

You have grown fond of him, having spent a lot of time with him during filming. And, well, you needed to keep your balance anyway.

Not to mention, he offers a pleasant distraction from having to yearn all the damn time for what you once had with Ewan.

Fabien and Phia walk ahead to her nearby apartment, so you're left with Matt in front of your building.

"We'll be spending a lot more time together this season, fortunately," he says.

"That's kind of a given," you laugh. "Alyna's never going to drop her oath to the Queen."

"And the King."

"Consort," you finish for him.

He laughs freely, shaking his head, before his expression turns a bit serious. He dips his face closer to yours, whispering, "And in real life? Is Alyna sticking with Aemond?"

That stumps you. Matt's blue eyes are indeed arresting, but one mention of Aemond is enough to bring you back into the Ewan Mitchell spiral.

But... you're not his.

You shrug in response, smiling softly, "I guess some things just aren't meant to be."

You become convinced that the universe must be testing you because your phone buzzes in that moment, revealing an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye.

Matt spots it easily, challenging you with, "So what then, beautiful? Are you going to answer the call?"

It buzzes once more, and another time, before you press decline.

Matt doesn't give you the time to regret your decision. He swoops down and plants a soft kiss at the corner of your lips. Nothing too much, but just enough to toe the line of simply being friendly.

"I - I better head inside - " you stammer, your face heating up.

"You better."

"I'll see you soon, Smithy."

He nods, "See you soon, my Alyna."

Ewan can hardly focus on the script in front of him. He struggles to get his lines out efficiently during the table read, and he hopes that no one else notices.

It would be a miracle if you actually take notice of him, with Matt stealing your attention as he sits to your right.

The cast and crew are positioned around the room, and you just happened to be directly across Ewan, right in his line of sight. He would revel in it, but not now, with Matt leaning in once in a while and whispering something in your ear that makes you softly giggle.

How unprofessional. Whatever he is telling you, it sure must be fucking fascinating.

He isn't entirely oblivious of your growing closeness with Matt. He saw the photos of the two of you walking the streets of London, snug against each other, but he chose not to think much of it. After all, how many times has Matt been pictured with an arm wrapped around a costar? That is just how he is. Open and friendly.

Ewan had not been inclined to think it meant something more in your case.

"Ewan," he hears Tom sharply whisper to his left. "It's your line."

The room is silent in anticipation, eager to get on with the script. You lock eyes with him and offer an encouraging smile, and he is just about to reciprocate, but then he notices Matt's arm resting on the back of your seat.

Like he has laid a claim on you.

Ewan ends up grumbling out his lines, lacking the vulnerability that Aemond is meant to be displaying in that scene.

His keeps his expression stoic, trying to do his best to accomplish the task at hand. A tiny consolation is that the script to season three seems to be marginally better than that for the previous season.

There is not a single scene of Aemond and Alyna thus far, but the script is littered with those of Daemon and Alyna. Which makes complete sense, since they're fighting for the same cause, and Daemon has been somewhat of a mentor to the young Alyna.

Ewan liked their dynamic, being a fan of both the characters, and their real-life counterparts. But the scene that is playing out before him may be enough to sway his bias to the contrary.

Daemon and Alyna. You and Matt.

Ewan scoffs to himself, forgetting where he is for a moment. Tom side-eyes his weird behaviour, thinking, the lad must have left his marbles back in America.

Ewan doesn't notice. His thoughts race a mile a minute - Do the writers not see the potential goldmine they've got with the Aemond and Alyna dynamic? Do they not know how crazy it would drive the fanbase?

Is Matt unaware that it was his name - Ewan's, and no one else's - that you were screaming last night?

Your sputtered little pants of his name rise from his memory, your breathing ragged by the time he finished making love to you the third round in the same night.

That... that was his.

You are -

"Mate," Tom clasps him on the shoulder, "drink some water, yeah? You look bloody flushed."

Ewan hums gratefully, nodding once, shaking the image of you from his mind.

After all, he wears his Adidas joggers today, and the thin material would not be able to conceal it if he ended up having a raging hard-on, in front of everyone during the damn table read.

When another scene of Daemon and Alyna comes on, with you and Matt eagerly reciting your lines to each other, the boyish lust that Ewan entertained essentially dies.

He purses his lips, a ghost of a smile, ever the good and supportive costar.

He raises his head to distract himself by looking around the table, eventually locking eyes with Phia, who had already been looking at him strangely.

You okay? she mouths.

His head snaps toward the sound of your laughter before he could respond.

"Shoot, sorry," you smile, apparently having read the wrong line. Everyone at the table waves it off, a cacophony of 'it's alright' and 'you got this' heard around the room.

When you finish the rather long, drawn-out speech Alyna makes, there is an intermission before the next scene.

People begin turning to each other to make comments, some stand to stretch their legs. Then Ewan hears it - "How'd I do, Smithy?" followed by "Not too shabby, my Alyna."

His Alyna?

Ewan flips the bloody table over in his mind.

Ewan calls you the following night, under the pretense of the arrangement.

In truth, he'd take anything. He could sit on your couch and watch paint dry, if it meant being around you.

"Not tonight, Ewan," you say, and his heart sinks.

"Why not?" he asks, uncaring about how downright needy he sounds.

"Uhhhm, I have a friend over," you reveal.

"Phia? I'm sure she'll understand."

"Oh, come on, Ewan. It's not Phia, and even if it was, I wouldn't just send her away."

"Who then?" he insists, but some part of him already knows the answer.

"Fabien," you say, "and Matt. But Fabien already left to go see Bella, so it's just - "

"You and Matt, huh," he spits bitterly. For an actor, he sure is unable to mask his emotions.

"What are you insinuating? We're friends. You're his friend too, Ewan."

"Hmm," his grip on his phone tightens, "you seem a lot closer than friends to me."

"You're being ridiculous," you scoff. "I would ask you to still come over if you want to hang out with us but not if you're being this unpleasant."

"Forget it," he practically snaps, immediately regretting his tone, "let me know when you're less occupied."

"Ewan - "

"It's okay, darling," he cuts you off, wanting to be done with the conversation already. "I'll come see you before the cast shoot." He refers to the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot the entire cast is slated to do in the coming week, the first offering of season three promo.

"Okay," you exhale, then say, "Sansa misses you."

That earns a weak smile out of him. If only her owner could say that she misses him too. "Does she?"

"Mhmm," you respond, and he hears the smile in your voice, "so... so you better come over soon or she might start clawing at the door."

Matt makes his presence known, his voice becoming audible as he walks into the room where you are, asking, "You alright, love?"

"Ewan, I gotta go," you say in a rush.

"Okay," he sighs in defeat. He drops his phone on the couch, then paces around his apartment, needing to get the picture of you and Matt canoodling out of his mind.

He audibly groans. Why must he torture himself so? If you say that you and Matt are just friends, then that must be the case.

My Alyna, Matt had called you.

In a sudden flash of madness or genius, Ewan picks up his phone and redownloads a certain wretched app.

It takes less than a minute, and soon he finds himself back in the mostly uncharted waters of Instagram. Careful not to accidentally like any post as he had before, he makes his way to the section that lets him create a new post.

Scrolling through his photo gallery, it doesn't take long before he finds one to his liking.

No editing is needed. He knows that the image and its subjects need no addition.

In his eyes, you are perfect as you are.

That night marks Ewan's second ever official post on his Instagram, yet again sending the entire fandom in a wild tailspin.

It's a picture of you sitting on top of your bed, hair slightly dishevelled, and with an old pyjama shirt on. Sansa is cradled on your bare thighs, and a smile graces your face as you pet her dotingly. The angle is from the side, where Ewan lay on his designated part of your bed, surreptitiously taking the picture.

The morning light cast a soft glow on your face, and the entire scene had made Ewan wish he never had to leave.

Under the post, reads the caption -

My Alyna.

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Some notes in the margins...

In part 8 - the EW photoshoot, more season three prep, and big news regarding Ewan's upcoming film!

I'm taking all your amazing ideas into account, and you'll continue to see smatterings of them in this story.

As always, I can't wait to talk with yous in the comments! Which couple is your endgame? <3

[dollgxtz]

That predator x prey fix changed my brain chemistry. MORE PLEASE. Maybe in the woods? Somewhere in the middle of nowhere? I’m begging you, the way you write sylus is exactly how I imagine him 😫

Thrills

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, predator x prey, cnc, hitting, choking, biting, slight injuries, pet names like kitten and sweetie, ends in fluff :3

AN: Back again with another spicy fic for my fellow deviants. I love writing this stuff so much. I hope yall enjoy! Tysm for 5,000 likes btw! I never would have thought people would like my stories this much!

You feel like you’re on the verge of collapsing.

Pushing off from the tall tree you decided to rest on, you start brushing off the dust and grease from the trail mix you were snacking on. Sweat pooled on your face and down your neck, and much to your dismay there wasn’t much breeze today.

“Sylus…are you about ready to go?” You asked, looking ahead at the man that was already 10 steps ahead of you. His long legs were certainly an advantage. You hear him chuckle and turn to meet your gaze.

“Tired already? I thought for a hunter you’d have much more stamina than this sweetie” he teases, making his way back towards you. “Yes, we can go if you’re done”

You had nonchalantly mentioned a few days prior how you felt cooped up in the bright city of Linkon, and had seen pictures of people doing hikes near this camping area. Didn’t really think anything of it until Sylus of course, had bags packed and items prepared for you within a weekend and insisted he was taking you somewhere “quiet”.

This certainly came as a shock. Though you didn’t complain much until now. You were surprisingly good at this hiking stuff, good enough that you felt confident on the more difficult trails that were so remote it was almost impossible to find the trail sometimes.

You scoff at him, rummaging through your bag to find a half empty metal water flask at the bottom. Taking a quick swig, you peer past the bottle to scan the surrounding trees and scenery.

“Say…we didn’t really see anyone on this trail. Kinda strange right?” you ask, sighing with relief as you finished chugging the rest of the cold water. Sylus raises an eyebrow at you, seemingly in thought.

“We are pretty far out. These are the more difficult trails after all” he said nonchalantly, watching curiously as a small smile arose on your face.

“Is that so?” you ask, taking a few steps forward to gaze up at Sylus. Although confused, he takes an arm and wraps it around your waist, listening intently.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”.

“So…no one else uses them?”.

“Hardly ever”.

Oh.

Sylus was certainly no dummy but was unsure what you were getting at. Knowing you well enough though, he could definitely see you were up to something. You lean in closer to him, the smell of his sweat and his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses. Your hands messed with the hem of his t-shirt. A slight blush rose to your cheeks.

“You have something in mind kitten?” he asked coyly, his patience beginning to dwindle a bit. Any longer and he’d definitely get it out of you one way or another.

You hesitated, looking down at his feet. He was more than indulgent into giving you what you asked for in terms of sex, but this might be a little too much. You debated just dropping it.

“No. Say it sweetie” Sylus teased, as if he had just read your mind. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, rendering you a bit helpless. “Or should I see for myself?”

His eye lit up a bit as he said this. You gulped, shaking your head before opening your mouth to speak.

“I was thinking..." Heat rose up your neck, "Maybe we could come back here at night. And maybe you could…hunt me down a little?"

Sylus chuckled, not the least bit surprised you suggested something like this. You begin to pout at his laughter and try to turn away from him, unsuccessfully of course. He immediately ended your small outburst with a quick but deep kiss.

“You never say anything that surprises me kitten” he said, shaking his head in amusement. You yelp a bit as he picks you and your bags up, beginning to carry you bridal style back to the cabin.

“Well, go on then. How does one get you out here, all alone, to hunt you down?”

The night was almost unbearably muggy. The August heat laid down on you with it's full weight, crushing the air from your lungs. The sheets were kicked down to the bottom of the bed, barely hanging on. You wore nothing but bikini-style underwear and a thin, silk camisole, your body was still slick with sweat. The window was open and the fan was on but nothing challenged the summer heat wave.

You were unable sleep. Not fully. You were passing in and out of consciousness in a hot, confusing haze, not ever sure when you were awake, when you were dreaming, and when you were in that weird space between.

When you felt hands on your legs, you were pretty sure you were dreaming. They caressed up your calves to the sensitive backside of your thighs. Another hand tucking the hair out of your face, gently following the curve of your neck, then under and around your shoulders.

You were lifted out of bed by strong arms and a familiar, bourbon like smell. Your eyes started to flutter open.

"Shh, shh. Don’t wake up now…not yet" You nodded in agreement, plunging back down into sleep. A lukewarm breeze on your back stirred you. The sound of a car door opening, then the familiar smell of a pine car freshener. You were being placed in the back seat.

"Sy?" You asked, barely able to muster your voice. You tried to force your eyes open.

Sylus’s tall form leaned over you in the dark. A devilish look darkened his features. Then he was gone from you, and you were asleep once more.

You snapped awake when the car bounced across some deep pot hole. Where were you? How did you get here? The car rolled to a stop as you sat up, your heavy, restless sleep weighing down your limbs.

"Oh, good. I was worried you'd miss the best part."

"The best…part?" You asked, trying to take in your surroundings. Still waking up from slumber, you try your best to rub the blurriness from your vision.

Thick forest surrounded the car on either side. A familiar, faded trail sign loomed over the driver's side. You were confused, and the deep timber of Sylus’s voice was scaring you a little. He was getting out of the car and coming round to the other side when you finally put it together.

He opened the back door, and then his rough hands hauled you out of the seat like you weighed nothing. Your bare feet met rough gravel with sharp discomfort.

"The best part," Sylus said. Then he let you go. You stumbled into the gravel, your legs not quite ready to take your weight. You hit the gravel hard, small rocks biting into the fat of your thighs and your palms.

“Ow-!” you cry, rubbing your hands together to ease the sting. You look back up at him, feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes as you tried to meet his gaze.

He didn't even look at you. He wore a black t-shirt that even in the dark accentuated his muscles. The sleeves were tight around his biceps. It was tucked into black pants, accompanied by those favorite shoes of his. He pulled out a watch from one of his pockets.

"Three minutes," he told you, his voice without a hint of levity. It was almost bored, even.

You didn't move, suddenly shivering in the summer heat. You watched him roll his eyes. His hand found the back of your head and you screamed when he pulled you up to him by the hair. Your hands on his forearms helped. You could feel his muscles there and suddenly felt like he could throw you into a concrete wall if he felt like it.

You remember that Sylus is dangerous. You had no chance against him if he wanted to hurt you. He could do it with ease, even now all it would take is a quick twist of your neck and you’d be gone. You both stare at each other, his expression cold and void of any emotion.

“I suggest you start running” he growled. “My favorite part isn’t any fun if my prey doesn’t fight back a little.”

Your stomach dropped, a jolt of excitement rippling through you as you caught his meaning. He tilted his head, waiting for your response. You nodded, biting the corners of your cheeks to keep from begging him to touch you already.

Then he’s throwing you forward again.

It felt obscenely cruel, like he didn't care if you ate gravel again. You stumbled, but you didn't fall this time, using the momentum to propel yourself into the woods. All your focus turned into trying to “survive”. Your hunter reflexes and skills were certainly helping, as you felt yourself whipping past the trees and growing the distance between you and Sylus.

It wouldn’t last long though.

You could hear the crunch of gravel and sticks beneath his shoes from behind you, clearly in no hurry though. As if he was just taking a nightly stroll.

Your bare feet met the soft dirt at the start of the trail. It was pitch in the woods and you could hardly see anything in front of you, relying entirely on muscle memory. Broken branches scraped against your ankles.

You splashed through the creek you had jumped over earlier, the ice cold water shocking you a bit.

“Shouldn’t you know the trail a little better than that, kitten?," Sylus mocked almost lazily from somewhere behind you.

Fuck.

You wasted no time to think though. You were on solid ground once more, soft dirt and moss bouncing beneath your feet. You kept running until your lungs hurt. Trees scratched up your arms and legs, dirt and mud splattered across your limbs. You lost track of time, not sure how long you'd been running for.

Your lungs began to burn and you had no choice but to finally stop. You attempt to catch your breath and take in your surrounds but you can hardly see anything.

Were you even going the right way? Is this the same trail even?

Trying not to panic, you start jogging forward. Maybe you could find a tall tree or a big rock to hide behind?

Something rustled in the bushes. Your heart pounded, your blood rushed in your ears. You tried to quiet your breathing but your lungs fought for air. The forest was quiet again.

Shit, you were so fucking lost.

You wanted so badly to sit and rest, but you forced yourself forward. The path got more difficult here. You had to use the trees and rocks around you to navigate rough terrain.

The bushes rustled again, this time ahead of you.

You froze to your spot. An animal? Your pursuer? You suddenly were even more terrified, wondering if you were gonna meet an untimely demise by a bear or something.

Then he appeared out of the darkness ahead of you like a tiger emerging from water. It was a smooth transition, his movements liquid and purposeful. It was like he belonged to these woods more than the world outside. How did he get ahead of you?

Twigs snapped beneath his shoes as he made a steady pace towards you. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck as he strolled confidently forward.

You turned to run, sprinting into the woods on shaking, tired legs. A scream escaped you as the adrenaline pooled again in your body. Your higher brain, the part that knew this was a game, was having fun. But that deeper core of your being? The part responsible for fight or flight? An integral part of the human core? That part was terrified.

Feeling generous, Sylus let you get a few paces ahead before sprinting after you. In almost no time he caught up to you, his evol wrapping around your ankle, causing you to fall and hit the mossy earth. Sylus wasted no time getting on top of your thrashing body. He wasn’t even panting or out of breath, unlike you, who was struggling to breathe underneath him.

His arms were around your hips, pinning you against his body. His breath was hot in your ear. You squirmed and thrashed as hard as you could, trying to break free of his grasp. The cold and familiar feel of his evol began to snake around you, threatening to hold you in place and trap you under his looming figure.

“Stop!” you screamed, animalistic terror overtaking your body. Your defiant attitude raged forward, refusing to accept your predicament.

“Hush now kitten” Sylus cooed, brushing some hair out of your face. “You did a good job making it as far as you did…but you’re mine now”

Screw you!," you hissed, kicking at his legs, adrenaline moving you harder than you meant to. Your heel found a soft part of his inner thigh. He released you with a hiss.

Oh, shit," you turned to face him, already about to apologize, but froze at the expression on his face. He chuckled, but it was a joyless sound. Then a hand was coming down across your cheek, hard enough to stagger you.

Your ear rang, a heavy stinging sensation burned that side of your face. Heat pooled between your legs. The pain thrilled you. You let out a few choked gasps, the stinging sensation turning into just a slight burn.

Then his hands were on either side of your face. He was gentle, tilting your jaw towards him to examine the damage.

“Behave. I don’t want to bruise your pretty face” he said, his tone a mix of anger yet overwhelmingly concerned. You nod reassuringly, a need of a sudden defiance overcoming you.

“Yknow, for the leader of Onychinus, you hit like a bitch” you spat, a smug expression growing on your face.

He struck you again, hard enough to draw a sound from you somewhere between a wince and a whimper. You swore you saw stars.

"Always fucking testing me" he growled. “Let’s fix that”.

One hand was grabbing you by the hair again, another wrapping around to grab your throat. He squeezed. That sweet, floating feeling. Then release, the blood rushing back.

He did it again, longer, until you felt weightless, until your vision started to blur. Then release, and you crashed down into your body.

He wrestled you down onto the ground. Your fingers dug into his forearms leaving hot, red scratches. You kicked at him, but he was expecting it this time. You really, really tried to fight him off. You put everything you had into it, animalistic protests falling on deaf ears as he was simply much stronger than you. He shoved your face into the damp earth.

“Fuck you," you groaned, your breath stirring the dirt in front of your lips.

“You’re about to sweetie”

You heard his belt, then his zipper. He shifted his body against you and you could hear the shift in fabric as he pulled his pants down. You struggled against him the entire time, and he barely even acknowledged you. Fuck, it turned you on to see how easily he could overpower you. One handed, even.

He pulled your hips up to his, spreading your legs apart with his knee. He leaned over you.

"Do you have any fucking idea," he muttered, his voice fanning a building flame between your legs, "How much restraint it takes to not fucking hurt you?"

His words alone drew a whimper from you. Instinctually, you backed your hips against him, inviting him. You pressed your ass against his cock, feeling it hard and warm. His breath shuddered.

"Can't believe you like this," he muttered, lining himself up with your cunt. "You want to take my cock face down in the dirt. How would the Hunters Association feel if they know they had such a dirty girl protecting Linkon hm?”

You weren't even sure when he got your underwear off, but he found your cunt dripping wet. Of course he did.

He dips a finger in between your folds, and you whimper and shake beneath him. Practically panting, you attempt to push back against the friction.

“Sy…take me, please” you whined, the aching hot feeling in your core beginning to be too much to bare.

“Louder” he said, pushing the head of his cock inside your hole just barely. Even though he’s barely inside of you, the sensation is incredible. You can barely think of a few words much less say them, bliss and pleasure flooding your entire body.

You try and push yourself up against him but he hovered just out of reach.

“Not what I asked for” he said plainly.

“Please Sylus” you begged. “Please fuck me in th-”

You didn't get to finish your sentence. His cock pushed into you in one motion, a loud, gasping moan escaping you. A low growl escaped him, sending a thrill down your spine.

Sylus pulled back, then pushed into you again. Hard. His hands squeezed onto your hips beyond bruising. Fuck, you were sure he could break the bone if he wanted to.

He fucked you hard, both of you a sweating, panting mess. The sounds of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy rang out into the forest, your moans unbridled by fear of bothering any nearby wildlife.

“Ah! Hgn…Sylus, that's too much," you managed through your moans, pain blooming across your body. You squirm a bit but it only makes him grip your body tighter.

"You can handle it," he growled, not even slowing.

His teeth sunk into your shoulder, electricity running through your body. He bit into you like a rabid dog, his breath quick and heavy on your skin. You cry out, unable to do much besides take the brutal pounding Sylus was giving you.

Your legs were shaking against him. The sounds you made were wild, a flurry of unbridled moans and curses. Sylus didn't speak so much as he growled; rough, guttural. A feral animal lost in how good fucking you felt.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm-Sylus, fuck, I'm so..."

He released his bite on you, growling encouragement in your ear. You teetered on the edge for what felt like eternity, your high just building, and building, and building.

His hand buried into your hair again, pulling your face from the dirt. He used your hair to pull you against him, sharp pain rocketing down your back.

It was enough to tip you over the edge. You came hard, shaking and nearly crying with how fucking good it felt.

Three hard thrusts and Sylus was cumming with you, unable to hold back. The familiar warm feeling of his seed shooting inside your walls was exhilarating. The two of you gasped for air, panting and heaving, sweat pouring down the both of you. You lay there on the ground shaking and whimpering like a hurt animal, all your sensations overwhelmed by the animalistic sex that just occurred.

Sylus immediately pulled out of you, leaning back on his ankles. He gathered you up against him, clutching you in his embrace tightly. Neither of you said anything, just panting and holding each other. Eventually you managed to breathe normally, and didn’t feel so adrenaline pumped. You steadily relax in his arms much to his relief.

“Be honest with me” Sylus starts, brushing some tangled hair off of your sweat and dirt covered face. You hum questionably, wondering if something was wrong.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

You let out a snort, much to his surprise. “I mean I am sore…but I’ve fought wanderers who hurt me far worse than that”

This earned you a slight chuckle from Sylus, who began rubbing his fingers on his temple in amusement. “Is that so? Are you saying I need to hurt you better than a wanderer? I can certainly make that happen sweetie”

You immediately shake your head, and Sylus lets out an even louder bit of laughter.

“I-I was kidding!! Don’t you dare-”

“I know sweetie, I would never hurt you that bad. Not even if you asked me to” he said softly, standing up with you in his arms much to your surprise. He helps you straighten out your clothes, offering a steady shoulder while you put your underwear back on, eventually tending to his own. The sun was steadily rising at this point, the peak of the sunset cascading a warm glow over the forest.

You attempt to start walking in the direction of the car but your legs are terribly achy and shake with every step. Sylus leans down in front of you, motioning for you to get on his back. You oblige, happily leaning your head against the back of his neck as he carries you.

“I brought you extra clothes in the car” he says, making careful steps to avoid turbulence for you. You beamed from behind him, feeling giddy all of a sudden.

“You’re so sweet Sylus, it’s cute”

You hear an audible hmph come from him, but it only makes you giggle more.

When the two of you finally made it back to the car, the sun had risen even more, much to Sylus’s displeasure. He helped you take off your dirty and torn clothes, helping put a thin but simple nightdress over your head. After having your face wiped down with baby wipes you relax in the passenger seat, exhaustion finally overwhelming you.

“When we get back, we’ll have a nice shower and dinner before we go to sleep sweetie. How does that sound?” Sylus asked, gazing at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Best words you’ve ever said to me Sy”

He grinned and started the engine.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 1/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 1: Fallen Angel

Summary: After a new drug rendered Homelander both powerless and amnesic, he gets saved by someone blissfully unaware of who he is.

Shoutout to @blindmagdalena who did the impossible: Making me simp for this guy. Your writing is simply impeccable! 💌

Warnings: Injury, blood, lots of exposition, not proofread

Notes: Hurt/comfort, OOC, pre-canon, Scientist! Reader, idc about logic gaps (I will cry if you point them out to me)

Four days already, and he still hasn't woken up.

Winter in the Canadian Arctic was rough, with the polar night bringing permanent darkness, as well as severe snowstorms that could last up to a week.

Luckily enough your old radio communication system was still functioning, so you were at least able to request a few necessities in advance: Food and water for another person, a doctor of course...

...and clothes for the guy you had to cut out of this ridiculous costume to patch him up properly.

Leaning back in your chair, you take some deep breaths, unable to concentrate on your work. Your glance unwillingly wanders back to the man lying on your bed, still unconscious.

Who knows how long the weather will cut you off from help arriving? You just hope he will make it until then.

Maybe it's for the better, though - since whoever had done this to him could still be out there wanting to finish the job, too.

It bordered on a miracle that he landed so close to your research station, when you were outside to notice at that. And the storm followed only shortly after you managed to pull him inside.

That man really had more luck than anything, even while having been messed up like this.

You watch him until you're sure he's still breathing and not in any discomfort, once again catching yourself admiring his handsome features.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was a literal fallen angel that crashed from the goddamn sky, right into your little front yard.

Damn it, the loneliness that came with this job made even your thoughts pathetic...

Well, to your defense, you've been raised pretty isolated your whole life, with parents being a doctor and a scientist that were devoted to spend their work at the most remote areas of the world.

It surely was a unique childhood with lots of traveling, and you were mostly spared the soulless corporate-controlled bullshit that was modern society. To add to that, your parents were never fond of using electronics for more than practical reasons. Not that there was internet connection where you lived either way.

All in all, while you obviously know about supes in general and might even have heard about Homelander the brief time you spent in civilization, the last time you've actually seen his face on a magazine or some sort was decades ago - and you didn't care enough to remember.

So it was no wonder that you were completely oblivious to who exactly was lying in your bed this whole time.

Sighing, you close your laptop with a dramatic gesture before making your way to the kitchen unit. You pour yourself a coffee to fill your rumbling stomach, having rationed the food in favor of your new involuntary roommate.

Having followed the footsteps of your parents - yet without proper funding - you led this mission all by yourself. At first it was bearable, since an elder native couple came to visit and assist you from time to time.

But your work demanded you to stay secluded from human intervention, deep in the mountains with the next tiny village being half a day march away. And now that winter made traveling scarce due to the dangers, the idea of some company certainly wasn't so bad.

You almost felt bad for being excited about him being here - whatever had happened to make him end up here was exactly the oppsite of great, after all.

Even though the emergency power aggregate was whirring loudly, the sound of strained groans reaches your ear - not the first time those past few days. So you immediately rush over to the man's side, pouring him a glass of water and dissolving some painkillers in it.

"It's gonna be alright" you assure him, unable to tell if he can even hear in this state. Blood is seeping through the makeshift bandages, making you realize you should probably reapply them soon. Maybe after the meds had some time to release their effect...

...however, just when the cup touched his lips, two icy blue eyes snapped open, making you wince.

"Don't touch me, fuck!" a raspy voice snapped at you, quite understandable in his situation. He pushed you away from him, causing you to stumble and fall as the glass scattered on the floor right next to you.

"Whe-where am I? And who the fuck are you?!"

"Who the fuck am I?" You felt almost offended at the accusation in his look, having to remind yourself that the person in front of you is in fact in an exceptional situation. "You're in my house. I found you injured in the middle of nowhere. So I should be asking you!"

His face fell in shock at the realization, internal struggle present in his features as he finally whispered - no, whimmered "I...can't remember..."

Racketing his brain around to make sense of the situation, he stumbled across his own words and repeated "I-I-I-I can't remember!"

"Can't remember what exactly?" You spoke more softly now as you got up, tentatively approaching him. He on the other hand jumped up from the bed, panic increasing with every passing second.

"Anything! I-I don't know who I am- shit, what happened?!" He was shaking, muscular chest having as he started to hyperventillate. You hesistantly put your hand on his back, feeling him tense at the sudden contact. "Please don't move too much. You're injured."

Only now he noticed the medical wraps around his chest, abdomen, left arm and both legs. Hell, his whole body was aching but the adrenaline wouldn't let this stop him from standing up, pacing around the small room.

Being overwhelmed with the situation as well, you decided it was best to tell him everything. "D-don't freak out, but we're in the middle of the arctic." Having a feeling that he wouldn't believe you - fair enough, though - you opened the door, revealing a snowy landscape. The doorway was already halfway buried under a snowy blanket, and the heavy winds were biting his exposed skin. "We'll have to wait until the storm settles. And even then, with your injuries you probably won't make it to the nearest village."

There was a long pause of silence between your explanation and his response, blinking at you in both disbelief and despair. "...if you don't know me, then how the hell did I get here?"

"My best guess is that you're a supe" you shrugged, hoping his memory loss didn't also affect his general knowledge. You pointed towards the torn bodysuit in the bin, stating matter-of-factly "You literally fell out of the sky. Even with the snow absorbing part of the impact, you should be dead - especially with those injuries."

Not really good at comforting someone, huh, you internally scolded yourself. Yet you gave it your best to calm him down and sign your goodwill.

"Sit down or your wounds will reopen." After a brief moment of looking at you all forlorn and maybe even a little distrustful, he accepted your help. You led him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to each other as support for him to stay upright.

"Doesn't feel like anything about this body is 'super' right now..." he joked bitterly, rubbing his sides. You chuckle sympathetic, carefully patting his back in reassurance. "Maybe you don't have access to your powers because of the amnesia? I'm not quite sure how any of this works."

"Yeah, maybe..." His eyes were now locked on you, forcing a weak smile as he finally took a proper look at you. "You still didn't tell me to who I owe my life."

"Me?" as inappropriate as it was for the situation, he did manage to make you flustered just by that - and it didn't really help that he was still only in his underwear, testing your decency not to stare. "Oh, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. I'm an ecologist. Been here for eight months to document the effects of climate change on the biome, and-"

"Climate change?" he rose an eyebrow at you, "There's a goddamn snowstorm outside, woman."

Oh. He was one of those guys. Note taken.

"Anyways" you changed the topic to not provoke a pointless discussion, still unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. "Do you at least remember your name?"

The man clutched the ragged costume you had handed him, forcing his exhausted self to remember something, anything at all...

...but every time he tried, there was a sharp pain in his forehead that tore him away from the memories locked away somewhere in his brain.

And smehow, no matter how insane it might sound, he felt like this was his own mind's subtle warning to better keep it this way.

"I think...my name's John" he ultimately stated, rubbing his temples as his face contorted in pain. You continued rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him, whispering "Hey, don't overdo it. Focus on healing first, and then we'll see if anything else comes back. Alright?"

John nodded mutely, and you gifted him an uplifting smile, cheering "Well then, nice to officially meet you, John! Feel at home as long as you need."

He shook your hand almost symbolically, feeling almost hopeful knowing that despite the grim situation, he was supported by such a kind stranger.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm all in your hands."

_____

A/N: This was written on my phone at 1am, so please bear with me. The next chapters are gonna be better.

[Part Two]

[gay-dorito-dust]

The raven came for Jace, bringing unfortunate news within the form of a small scroll that kept itself sealed shut by a bit of string.

The look that Lord Cregan Stark made his stomach drop, he didn’t need to for it to be vocalised that the raven had brought news many would find hard to stomach, so without an ounce of hesitation Jace found himself flying home to Dragonstone; fighting back the tears that threaten to blur his vision.

His brother was dead and he was too far out of reach to help him, and even if he did attempt to fly on dragon back and into Storm’s end, Jacaerys fears that he wouldn’t have gotten there quick enough for his liking in order to save Luke.

However thar didn’t stop the thoughts within his head that told him that he was failure of an older brother for not protecting Luke better when he should’ve. There were even minor thoughts that his own mother -the rightful queen- would blame him in a fit of grief and anger, that everyone back home would point the blame at him for living while his brother did not.

Jace even caught himself thinking what if you too blamed him? Condemn him for breathing the air that Luke now could not? His brother and Arrax’s remains were found in Shipwreck Bay but even with that in mind it was impossible to comprehend that his brother, someone he saw not too long ago alive and well, was now pronounced dead alongside his dragon with evidence to prove it.

Did you blame him? Jace wondered as Dragonstone came into view, his blood having been frozen solid the moment the news struck him in the chest, he could barely feel anything besides the aching pain where his heart resided and the urge to scream and shout the unbearably hurt he felt out of his body for good.

The rest of the day Jace has never felt more like a spectator in his own body as he watched himself walk through Dragonstone and stopping short when he caught sight of you near the fireplace, reading the same letter that he had moments ago and covering your hand over your mouth to muffle your own cries of pain over the loss. You loved Luke as though he was your own little brother and it hurt Jace just as much to see you in pain and suffering, unable to bring you comfort whilst dealing with his own grief and loss of his brother.

‘Jace?’ Your voice called out in the near empty room, broken but relived at seeing him alive after worrying yourself half to death over the idea that Aemond might’ve tried killing him too.

‘I’m-‘ Jace could barely speak a single word without his voice cracking under the grief he’s tried suppressing the entire flight home. ‘I’m-‘

You walked towards him slightly, opening your arms towards him in a sign that you wished to comfort him, Jace was quick to accept your offer with teary eyes and slam himself into your arms as he clung to you for dear life. The pain growing too much for him to deal with alone, rendering him afraid that it might break him should he try to upkeep his duty as prince, rather than feel his grief like he should.

‘It’s my fault.’ He cried into your shoulder as his fingers dug into you as though he was scared that you’d also leave him.

‘It’s not.’ You told him softly, rubbing his back soothingly as tears streamed down your cheeks silently. ‘It’s not your fault, we both know who’s at fault; Aemond.’ You reminded him as your hatred towards Aemond grew, you wondered whether the bastard even had a human heart to even feel an ounce of remorse for his crime, you prayed to the old gods and the new that they’d condemn him to a fate worse then death.

After all you’ve heard that Cannibal and Grey Ghost were still very much unclaimed and somewhere on Dragonstone.

Jace gripped you tighter as he cried the last of his tears into your shoulder, soaking the fabric but you didn’t care, all that mattered to you was bringing Jace off of the ledge he was hanging off of within his mind. ‘I can’t believe-‘ Jace couldn’t even finish his sentence without another wave of tears streaming down his face.

You pressed a kiss to his head as you held him close to your chest as possible, staring into the fires blankly. ‘It’ll be made right soon Jace, the greens will pay back tenfold by fire and blood I’ll make sure of it.’ You promised him, you might not have a dragon but soon enough you’ll will and when you do, the greens will witness your wrath firsthand.

[rivatar]

Hi can I make a request for Jake sully x fem human reader! (first movie when he gets really buff towards the end!)

Ok hear me out:

Reader is obsessed with Jake sully’s muscles like gets super aroused like down bad for them!! The reader lures Jake into a trap (but Jake doesn’t know that he thinks he’s getting love from her like normal) but reader ties him up with a rope/leash!! (Very unexpected) And super spicy and exciting things happen between them!?!?!?!?!?

I’ll let you finish the story if you dare…😉

Tbh I have been craving a spicy story for weeks now!!

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!!!

Much love from your fan!!!! 🩷😁

Fell Into the Trap

Pairing: Jake!Sully x fem!human!reader

Warnings/content: smut MDNI🔞, restraints/handcuffs, masturbation, multiple orgasms, p in v, some degradation, they’re both switches kinda, cream pie, think that’s it but lmk :)

A/n: FINALLY got this request done!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! It’s pure filth heheh 🫶🏼

W/c: 4.4k

Biceps, abs, quads, pecs, forearms, back muscles.

His muscular physique was running through your head nonstop today (and maybe everyday) and God, it was eating you alive.

It probably didn’t help that Jake had already given you a taste. You befriended him when he arrived on Pandora, rolling in on his wheelchair. You were and still are under Dr. Augustine. You thought Dr. Augustine and Norm gave Jake way too much hell at first, but they eventually warmed up to him. You would always laugh at his witty jokes and sarcasm from the very beginning. And it seemed like he noticed, as he started approaching you more and aimed to make you laugh whenever he could. This turned into a unique bond the two of you developed. You were obviously friends but this elevated into something more after spending so much time with him. He was sweet and charming, and you had no other romantic prospects so why the hell not? You gave into his flirtatious advances months ago and have slept with him ever since.

Now, months later, Jake is officially trained as Omatikayan warrior, having just passed his rites of passage not even a full week ago. You were so proud of him, as was the rest of your department. Everyone celebrated his accomplishment and his recognition was well deserved. Since then, he has received many welcoming gifts to his kelku and even courting offers from a lot of the women in the clan, to which he would respectfully decline.

But selfishly, you were ready to have him back to yourself. He’s been so busy now that he’s officially one of The People that he’s barely in his home and barely has come to see you. You were also tied up with your own work to be fair, but you were used to seeing him for hours everyday after the workday was finished.

The past few nights you would touch yourself before bed or else you would toss and turn all night, craving his touch. It wasn’t enough though. Your fingers paled in comparison to him. He would spend hours pleasuring you with his tongue, fingers, cock, and whatever other body part you desired to touch on him, sometimes opting to ride his abs or thighs. You could just eat him alive, you thought to yourself.

It was late at night as you tossed and turned in your bed for yet another night. Deep in your (horny) thoughts, you decided you would somehow catch him tomorrow and make him make it up to you. You didn’t care how many plans he might have as he’s settling into his new life, it would all just have to wait. You may have been thinking with your cunt instead of your brain but you didn’t care at this point. And by Eywa, he was gonna pay for it.

…………………..

You had your plan perfectly in order. After finishing up your work for the day as quickly as you could, you headed off into the village. You wore a jacket, solely for the reason of being able to load down the pockets with your tools. Tools needed to take a 9 ft tall Na’vi man down and render him helpless.

After making enough small talk with the villagers you passed by, you finally spotted Jake. And fuck, he looked better and better with each passing day. His slutty little tewng barely covered him at all, and it looked like a new tewng, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it befor- “Y/N! Come here, we were just talking about you!” Jake snapped you out of your trance once he spotted you, motioning you to come forward. You were hard to miss in a sea of blue people.

Clearing your throat and masking a smile, you walked towards him and the two other warriors standing next to him. They smiled politely and nodded their heads at you. “All good things, right?” You responded, smirking slightly. They looked to be carving out arrows and assembling them.

Jake chuckled, “More or less,” he teased. You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. Then you gathered up the courage to tell him the reason you were there.

“Jake, can I borrow you for a minute? It’s nothing bad—just some things Grace wanted me to discuss with you regarding mapping the area,” you grabbed his wrist and tugged him with you, “It might take a minute, it’s a lot of information,” you lied to the warriors that were standing with him as you walked the two of you away. The two men looked at each other knowingly, like they knew what you were really doing. Although Jake looked clueless.

“Sure, but I thought we already discussed this?” He giggled a little at you guiding him, clearly confused what this was about.

“Yes but she wanted to finalize the details. You have the map in your kelku, right?” You asked, already knowing the answer and hastily making your way towards his home.

“Yeah I do but I’ve told her I’ve added everything to it that I know for now. I don’t think there’s anything more I can do,” he thought carefully. His home was in sight, just another minute or so away.

Just keep making excuses, almost there.

“I’m just following her orders, Jake,” you smiled up innocently at him, “let’s just see what we can do, yeah?”

His home was a few feet away, all you had to do was get him past the door and inside. You could nearly taste the sweet victory. You motioned your arm out a little for him to go in before you as you snuck your hand in your pocket to pull out a Banshee Catcher, stretching it out behind his back.

“Yeah, we’ll see what we can d- SHIT!” He hit the floor in the middle of his home with a loud THUD. Your aim was perfect, hitting his ankles precisely as the catcher wrapped around them, making him lose his balance and fall forward. He tried to catch part of his body as he fell, but still ended up hitting his head on the ground. Raising himself up a little, he rubbed his forehead as he winced and turned back to look at you. “What the fuck??”

“Shut. Up.” You barked as you walked towards his laid out form, unraveling the rope you got out from your other pocket and tying it in a loop.

Jake was still laying on his stomach as he continued rubbing his temples. You approached him swiftly before he could make any moves and hooked the loop around his neck, tightening it up.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” His voice came out a little more shaky than he’d like to admit. His hands found the ground beneath him as he tried to start pushing himself up. You stomped your foot on his back and pushed him back down with all your weight.

“Do not move!” You scolded while tightening the rope you had on his neck as you stood above him.

He relaxed his arms and held his hands out to the side in surrender. “Okay, okay. Jesus Christ— who taught you how to take down a man like this?”

“I’ll never share my sources,” you smirked cockily.

Reaching into your back pocket of your jeans, you pulled out your final item.

“Arms behind your back,” you demanded.

His eyes grew wide once they came into view as he craned his neck back to see what you had. “Where the hell did you steal handcuffs from??”

“I have my ways and it’s none of your concern! Arms back, Sully.”

He shut up in defeat, slowly placing his arms back. You snapped the cuffs around his wrists and finally let out a sigh of relief that he was pretty much helpless now, even with you being a human and him being a Na’vi, he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Okay, you got me now. Good job. Now can you please kindly explain what this is about??” He huffed in annoyance, feeling kinda proud of you yet embarrassed you took him down so easily.

“I’m about to show you,” you said while squatting down to place your hands around the banshee catcher, “I’ll undo this if you promise not to run,” you offered.

“Yes, yes, please— I won’t leave, I swear,” he pleaded. You eyed him for any bluffing but he seemed rather honest. So graciously, you released the hold the catcher had around his ankles. He spread out his legs in relief, not daring to try to take off. Besides, how would he tell everyone a human girl managed to get him in handcuffs? They would never let him live that down. And also, he didn’t particularly mind seeing you so… feisty. Although he didn’t know why you were being this way, specifically towards him. Nevertheless, you had his full attention. He rolled over on his back to face you.

You slightly pulled the rope around his neck, urging him to sit up on his butt. You swiftly tied your end of his leash, per se, around a sturdy post in the middle of the room.

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at his astonished look of pure and utter disbelief. “God, I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” you giggled uncontrollably, hunching over a little to hold your tummy as it started to hurt from laughing. He just looked more and more confused by the second, wondering why you were laughing and what had gotten into you.

He chuckled a bit uncomfortably, “Haha, yeah… so what now? You gonna leave me here?” He presumed.

“Oh Jake… is that what you think this is?” You poked your bottom lip out to mock him, “No baby, but you’re gonna wish I had left you here by the time I’m done with you,” you giggled triumphantly. His eyebrows scrunched together more, trying to figure out why you were acting so crazy. He was beginning to be speechless.

To confuse him even more, you decided to start taking off your clothes. You wore comfy gym shorts and a sports tanktop today as it was hot and sunny outside. You peeled up your tank and tossed it at his face, to which it hung onto him for a split second until falling down to the ground. His mouth hung open slightly as saliva pooled in his mouth, eyes roaming everywhere on you.

Then you peeled off your sports bra and your breasts popped out, bouncing a little as they settled freely with no more restriction. You kicked out of your shoes and shimmied your shorts and panties down in one go, tossing everything to the side and out of the way.

“Get my meaning now, Jakey?” You mocked his little nickname, tilting your head at him with your hands on your hips.

He licked his lips and swallowed all the drool that pooled up in his mouth from such a mouthwatering sight. His pupils were blown up and his tail was stiff and pointing upwards in high alert. “Shit baby… if you wanted some you should’ve just asked,” He said with a slight groan, eyes still soaking up every inch of you.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, having already been fed up with waiting for so long, “I’ve given you several hints and you ignored them. Ignored ME!” Your voice rose as you pointed at yourself, “So, I had to take matters into my own hands,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. To you, you were only doing what anyone else would’ve done. Take control of the situation instead of suffering.

“So now you will listen to me and do whatever I want, got it?” You demanded.

Jake couldn’t help the wide grin that split across his face. He looked like a kid who had just been given some ice cream. This was supposed to be his punishment and the bastard never looked so happy. “Yes ma’am,” he followed your orders. Happily. He shifted over to get on his knees, a little too excited already as he had a prominent bulge in his loincloth.

You walked towards him with an all-knowing smirk. It was laughable that he thought he was gonna get some pussy right away. “Yeah, you’re good at following orders, aren’t you Marine?” You grabbed his face and brought it right up to yours.

His breath was hot and came out in quick exhales, fanning across your lips. “Mhmm,” he licked his lips while he stared at yours, being so close yet not close enough to seal them together.

You kept teasing him, acting like you were about to kiss him and then you just didn’t. He leaned forward to try to catch your lips and you leaned back before he could, laughing in his face. “Don’t get all desperate and pathetic on me already, Jakey,” you teased as he looked visibly disappointed. His cheeks were already a purplish tint.

“‘m not desperate,” he grumbled.

“Oh really? Let’s see about that,” you said prettily and innocently as you lowered yourself to the ground, laying back and propping on your elbows as your legs sprawled out for him to see everything.

Sharp canines came into view as he bit his bottom lip, eyes hooded over with pure lust. He crawled on his knees to get closer but the rope held him back. A growl left his chest in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to touch you when you’ve got me tied up, huh?”

“Who said anything about you doing any touching? This is not for you, Sully,” you scolded, “Now, follow my orders—Watch.”

Your scooted back a little to lean against the wall so you could relax without holding yourself up. You ran your two little hands down your soft body, slowly and sensually to drag out as much pleasure as possible. The lightest feathery touches on yourself heightened your sensitivity. You massaged your breasts, pinching your nipple between your thumb and index finger. The feeling went straight to your core. Slick started leaking out of your hole, begging for some attention. You left one hand to keep stimulating your nipple and the other hand trailed down to your pussy. You ran two fingers through your glistening folds as you teased around your entrance and on your swollen clit. Your head fell back as a soft moan escaped your parted lips, to which you then bit your lip.

“Jesus,” He whispered, “Okay, I get it and I’m sorry I didn’t make time for you and that sweet pussy. I regret it so much and it won’t happen again!” He babbled as his erection was becoming more painful by the second.

“Hmm, how sorry are you?” You hummed as you kept pleasuring yourself, sticking two fingers inside. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“So fucking sorry! Baby please, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!!” He pleaded, watching desperately as your fingers sunk into your heat.

You started a steady pace going in and out, not really caring for his words but appreciating the deep baritone of his voice getting you off more. “Damn right you’re making it up to me,” you all but moaned.

You were getting lost in your own world, it felt like pure hot liquid gold was pooling in your tummy as your orgasm built up. “Stand up, Jake,” you whimpered. You wanted to see his entire form in all its glory.

He did as he was told like the good little soldier he was. And fuck, his physique was blessed by Eywa herself. You would thank her later for her perfect design of him. His hair looked so pretty, as two shorter strands hung out front to frame his face, and damn— that face. ‘Handsome’ was an understatement that didn’t do him justice. Chokers adorned his strong neck that flared out to incredibly broad and sturdy shoulders. His arms were amazingly strong and bulky— much bulkier than the other Na’vi. They were much leaner and smaller-boned than Jake. His mix of human DNA in his Na’vi body was nothing less of perfect, in your opinion. His chest was powerful looking, with plump pecs showcasing his strength in that area. Then his waist— God, his waste. It was so slutty, the way it narrowed down so much compared to how wide his shoulders and chest were. Even though it was lean, it still housed just as many muscles in his abs and hips, with not an ounce of fat, just pure muscle. His thighs and calves shouldn’t be left out either, they were equally as beautiful. And of course you couldn’t leave out a particular body part you deemed as your favorite— his veiny cock. Just like the rest of his body that everyone else got to see, it was just as perfect as him. Long and girthy, littered with his unique bioluminescent pattern on it.

And now as he stood, you could savor the sight of him. Seeing his muscles ripple slightly as he shifted his stance and strained against the handcuffs was all you needed to finish. You sped up on rubbing your clit as your other hand plunged in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Fuckkk, Jake!” You screamed as you rode it out, your body twitching and trying to get away from the overstimulation. You swore you heard a low rumbling growl but it was hard to tell over your choked sobs.

“You’re torturing me, baby,” he said shakily, almost whimpering. He watched intently with eyes trained directly on your pussy as the precious scene took place before him. Some slick gushed out of your hole and around your fingers as you pulled them out slowly.

“I know,” you replied wryly.

“Can you untie me now so I can help you out?” He was sounding so desperate now and it did you well to get beneath his skin like this.

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think, “Maybe later.”

He groaned in frustration and bared his teeth briefly, clearly getting aggravated.

“Don’t get sassy with me,” you snapped while standing up to saunter over to him. Once you were closer you could see the wet spot on his loincloth from his pre-cum.

“Awww, are you pent up? Poor guy needs to cum so bad, don’t you?” You teased and mocked him, “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

You seen the way his jaw clenched in restraint, he felt like a little kid in timeout again. He stared down at you with a piercing gaze. You were pushing all his buttons. He swore he was gonna tear you apart later the moment he got out of these damned restraints.

You grabbed one of his wrists and led him to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit down,” you tugged his wrist down, urging him to do so.

He sat down and thankfully the rope was just long enough for him to go to this corner without it straining on his neck. You eagerly climbed into his lap, straddling over one of his thighs with your bare cunt coating your leftover slick on his leg. He let out a shaky breath at the contact of finally at least feeling your warm body against him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t take it much longer,” he whined.

You gave him a peck on the mouth, “Not much longer.” Then started your assault on his body.

You started on his neck, first smelling his natural musk, then licking and sucking on the sensitive flesh there. He quietly groaned and you felt his hips jerk up underneath you, frantically searching for some friction. You felt all around his shoulders, chest, and arms, grabbing all you could get and moaning in appreciation at the straight up beefiness to him. Then your hands went lower and felt up his abs, that were constricting currently due to your neck kisses that drove him mad.

“Hmmm, gonna fuck the shit out of you later,” He promised.

You couldn’t help the soft moan that hummed against his skin where you were kissing, sucking, licking. You quickly stopped to reach around and untie his loincloth hastily. You were gonna die if his dick wasn’t shoved inside you within the next minute or so.

“You stretched out enough?” He asked a bit worriedly as you grabbed his cock and slid it through your folds.

“I hope so,” you breathed out before you slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, letting your weight help you sink down.

A slew of curses left both your mouths as your small pussy engulfed him entirely. “Holy shit, you needed it bad, huh?”

“Yes!” You nearly cried as tears already formed in your eyes from the sheer fullness from him. His dick hit every spot you needed to be touched.

Raising up, you slammed back down on him and picked up a ruthless pace. You held onto his shoulders for stability and you had so much adrenaline that your legs weren’t burning from doing the work. You bounced vigorously, barely allowing either one of you enough time to even breathe.

His head was thrown back as guttural moans left his mouth, having no choice but to take what you were giving him. You moaned and cried above him, tears streaming down your cheeks from the incredible sensations. The coil in your core was about to snap at any second but you tried to hold it off as long as you could. But you couldn’t hold it back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You screamed as your orgasm overtook your entire being. You clenched hard around his length and moaned in time with you.

“S-Shit, gonna make me cum too!” he groaned as his hips stuttered and his hot seed shot up into you. Synchronized moans and whispered of praise filled the room as you worked through your highs.

You slouched onto him as his dick remained inside you, twitching from aftershocks. You were both sticky with sweat and quietly panting.

“Untie me,” his voice was hoarse. You leaned up, slightly confused at his tone. But after you looked in his eyes, you could see the mischief he was trying to mask.

“Yes sir,” you smirked playfully and got off him with wobbly legs, walking over to your discarded clothes to retrieve the key for his cuffs and a knife for his rope. You knew subconsciously that he was about to give you the dicking down of your life after this stunt you pulled, and you weren’t complaining.

You gave him a small smile as you cut the rope and reached around to unlock his handcuffs. He threw the cuffs to the side and scooped you up, and then set you down on the open floor.

“Hands and knees, babygirl,” he demanded. You scurried almost pathetically to get into place, poking your ass out as your arched your back and looked back at him sexily.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he snickered, “Just how I like it”

You arched even more, only eating up his degrading words. Some would call it pathetic or whorish, but by Eywa, you were fine with just being his whore if that’s all he wanted. And you didn’t care how that sounded.

“Now let’s get one thing settled,” he smacked your ass hard, “That was cute and all, but I’m the one in charge here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered and pressed your ass back to nudge against his cock. Your switch up was crazy but again—you’d do nearly anything for this man and that’s why you were so cranky without him. You wanted him to be rough and fuck you hard, so you couldn’t be more pleased with how your plan has went.

“God, you’re such a slut. Only for me though, right?” He taunted.

“Yes, only you!” You swayed your hips around, trying to get him to just put it in you already.

He chuckled darkly behind you and drove it in with one stroke. You sighed contently in unison. You wish you could bottle up this feeling and keep it forever, every second of every day. But then you’d get nothing done ever.

“So goddamn tight and wet still. Needy little thing,” he smacked your ass again while continuing his thrusts.

His thrusts were hard and sloppy. No doubt you would have bruises tomorrow from his pelvis smacking you over and over again. But you didn’t care, not when his cock was kissing your cervix so perfectly.

He grabbed your neck and bent himself over to be right next to you. He kissed your cheek and panted roughly in your ear, “My little slut. Just needed to be fucked silly and stuffed full of cock, right?” He smiled briefly through his panting. Your jaw was completely slack as loud moans fell from your mouth. “Mhmm!!”

He craned your neck back ever more to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. This position had your back arched so much that your eyes rolled in the back of your head. He sped up his thrusts and you were both nearing another climax.

He pulled his lips off yours because he felt you starting to clench, indicating your incoming orgasm. The third one tonight. He was about to burst himself.

Your eyes kept rolling back and squeezing shut. “Look at me when you cum,” he held your neck in this position, craning up towards him.

“Cumming! I’m cumming!” You cried. You stared in his eyes as your coil snapped and his did too as he stared back at you. It was the type of eye contact that was dangerous, the type that ties people’s souls together and makes them fall in love. There was no going back though.

He pulled out slowly and moved your body to lay down as he laid down beside you. You were both trying to catch your breath.

He pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. “Tired?” He hummed sweetly, noticing your body wasn’t moving at all.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and he laughed.

“Go to sleep, we’ll clean up later,” he stroked your hair, “Just make sure to get those handcuffs back to their rightful owner later,” he chuckled.

“Hush.” You hummed, giving into the sleepiness beckoning you to rest.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @anemonelovesfiction @luvv4j4ybe11 @vogueweb @nonamevenus @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @professional-yapper @plantgirliewholovespandora @etherynn @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @ladykat37 @loakstahni @zafrinaxyz @xylianasblog

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: july 2024

full disclosure: I started out July in a bit of a mental lurch, really feeling stuck in a rut. there are a lot of reasons for that, absolutely none of which need to be shared with the general populace of tumblr dot com, but suffice to say that I was feeling listless and reading was not a high priority. I was pretty content to accept that this was going to be another month where I didn't finish a lot of books. I was too busy for most of June, and now too unfocused and bummed out in July.

and then that ended up not being the case. I think I can chalk that up to three things:

very early in the month I realized that none of the reading I had been planning on getting to was grabbing my interest at all, so I did something drastically different: picked up a YA memoir that I bought at pride on the recommendation of a bookseller. not my usual kind of reading at all, but YA is very readable and memoirs grab me fast because I'm nosy, so I figured it might be great for getting out of a rut. and boy, was I right!

Akwaeke Emezi also has a new novel out, and if you don't know then please note now that I'm a person second and an Akwaeke Emezi fan first. their newest novel was a sinister joyride, non-stop twists and turns that I couldn't put down until I saw the characters through to their bitter ends.

and, of course, over in the Dungeon Meshi manga I got to Mithrun. I've only had Mithrun for a couple of chapters, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone in this dungeon and then myself. even if I hadn't been able to read anything else, that would have kept me running back to the library for more Dungeon Meshi.

all of which added up to a fairly voracious appetite for books being reignited in my brain, and my second most book-heavy month of the year so far (still haven't beat May, but there's time). sick!

so - what have I been reading?

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 7-10 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2019-2022) - mannnnn I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said elsewhere, but Dungeon Meshi is so. fucking good. the way that Kui starts to raise the stakes of the story and grow the world beyond the core band of adventurers is so conscientious and well-done, timed perfectly so it never feels like having an undercooked heap of fantasy exposition thrown at you all at once. instead everything proceeds at a perfect simmer, leaving me feeling like the frog in that pot of boiling water who didn't notice how dire things had gotten until it was very suddenly too late and I was screaming bloody murder at a book. things have gotten so dire that I'm yearning for the days when fighting a red dragon was our biggest problem - and yet, through it all, every character remains rendered with humanity and compassion, no matter how scary, dangerous, or outright alien they first appear. I'm not naming any spoilers, but I need [REDACTED] to fix shit ASAP in Vol. 11 and [SUPER REDACTED] is on my shitlist fucking forever. also Mithrun sweetie you're perfect, do as many crimes as you want.

Heart and Hand (Rebel Carter, 2019) - my romance novel of the month, as picked by my lovely patreonites! this self-published historical romance promised some messy f/m/m, following a biracial (half Black, half white) young lady, Julie Baptiste, as she responds to a marriage ad that takes her out west to the fictional town of Gold Sky, Montana. Julie's sort of a standard historical heroine - she doesn't care for the silliness of high society and vastly prefers the company of books, looking forward to becoming Gold Sky's schoolteacher - but her marriage has a twist: rather than marrying one man, she's agreed to marry two, a pair of friends who have been inseparable since they served together in the Civil War. this book is charming, for sure, but I can't help be more intrigued by what isn't there than what is, namely: are these men having sex with each other or not? Rebel? hey, Rebel? why is there no DP in this two husbands mail order bride book? that was, like, he bare minimum that I expected. for the love of god, why did those men never put both of their dicks inside Julie at the same time? why did we spend so much time on emotional conflict that could be easily resolved if anyone just talked to each other when Julie's two beautiful husbands could have been having sex in front of her? HELLO?

also, listen, this is such a nitpick, but I am FROM Montana and it feels personal: I know that the general poverty of frontier life isn't sexy, but god these people are WAY too well off. at one point Julie enjoys some fucking BANANAS, something that I goddamn assure you were not easy to come by in late 19th century Montana. a banana. as fucking if.

All Boys Aren't Blue (George M. Johnson, 2020) - as is proudly advertised on the back cover of my copy, in recent years All Boys Aren't Blue has been the second most-challenged book in America behind Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer. reading through All Boys Aren't Blue it was initially hard to see what exactly was so objectionable, until I realized that a queer Black person living their life with compassion and joy is the scariest thing some of these motherfuckers can possibly imagine. Johnson writes about their life growing up in the nexus of racism, homophobia, and masculinity with wisdom and endless compassion, directly addressing young people who may find themselves in similar positions to offer them assurance that they, too, can be okay. more than anything, All Boys Aren't Blue is a plea for young people to live their lives without fear and shame. it's a beautiful blessing of a book that I hope brings comfort to every innumerable kids who need it.

Little Rot (Akwaeke Emezi, 2024) - how do I even begin to describe Little Rot? definitely not for those who feel squeamish about sex crimes, I guess that's an important place to start. this novel starts with the breakup of a long-term Nigerian couple, Kalu and Aima, and follows both of them into a weekend that starts with drugs and sex parties and spirals increasingly out of control from there, drawing more and more characters into a complicated snarl of money and power. Little Rot has the seedy, lurid draw of an episode of SVU if SVU ever grew up and realized that cops don't do shit, reveling in the nastiest that Emezi's imagined city of New Lagos has to offer. cannot say this book is for everyone - few of Emezi's novels are - but god, it's a thrilling study in corruption.

The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader (editor Joan Nestle, 1992) - this is a massive and fascinating historical document, assembled by Nestle as part of her work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. within this collection are letters, interviews, academic essays, poems, and transcribed oral histories from all manner of self-identified butch and femme lesbians. while some of the contributors are recognizable names in the history of American queer activism (including Pat Califa, who's a bisexual trans man now lmao), others are women who were just trying to live their lives with as much authenticity, comfort, and dignity as was possible in their time. (although, notably, the vast majority of these women are white, and all but a very few are Americans. racial and cultural diversity is not one of the collection's strong suits.)

the personal narratives span all over the twentieth century, and I was really delighted to see the very frank discussions of what would be written off as "bad representation" by a lot of queer resources today: butches overdosing on toxic masculinity and getting in messy bar brawls, femmes committing outlandish acts of adultery, lesbian sexual awakenings taking place between fairly young children, and one extremely memorable instance of a butch getting unexpectedly pregnant and decided to do a little sex work on the side since she couldn't get more pregnant than she already was. I was particularly fascinated by the many, many accounts of "second wave" self-identified lesbian feminists who tried to do away with butch/femme identities and "politically incorrect" expression of lesbian sexuality altogether (that's everything but mutual cunnilingus, btw) in pretty eerie echoes of contemporary radfem arguments. at close to 500 pages it's definitely better suited to skimming and stopping to read whatever catches your attention rather than trying to read cover to cover, but I think this is a really invaluable piece of history.

American Mermaid (Julia Langbien, 2023) - this was a novel, for sure. American Mermaid is a novel about a broke, anxious high school teacher named Penelope whose novel, also called American Mermaid, is a runaway success that gets optioned for film. Penelope quits her teaching job and moves across the country to Hollywood to work on the script with two dude bros who don't really Get what American Mermaid is about, and set to work turning Penelope's weird, unsexy female empowerment novel into an MCU-style action romp with a hot young lead. the novel's strongest when it's deep in the spirals of Penelope's frantic mind, probing the conflict between her fairly desperate need for cash (she wants to be financially independent of her conservative father, she has good reason to suspect breast cancer is in her future, she wants to start a family someday) and the artistic affront she feels at watching her story be disrespected and dismantled. where it's weaker is in the extensive chapters of the story-within-a-story; while useful for context, I straight up didn't need to read that much of Penelope's novel. and the plot overall kind of felt like it fell off the rails near the end once Langbien finishes making her point about how Hollywood sucks. it's not bad, but it's also just... fine. it's fine!

How to Taste: A Guide Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life (Mandy Naglich, 2023) - how do I put this so nicely? this book is for people who are kind of dork ass losers about food, a group that I do very much count myself as a part of. I first became acquainted with Naglich's work when she appeared on a podcast called the Sporkful, which claims that it is "not for foodies, it's for eaters." I'm a fairly devout listener, and after listening to Naglich describe her efforts to become a master cicerone (one of the world's most elite beer tasters, a distinction that is taken Very Fucking Seriously) I thought sure, whatever, that's a book I can get behind. Naglich is maybe a big more entertaining as a podcast guest than a nonfiction author. in places the book can be dry or roughly constructed in a way that suggests another pass by an editor or maybe a co-writer would have helped. and straight up, there are just weird fucking typos in this book that are like. crazy to me, I cannot believe they got through. the cheap-ass cover art also suggests this was not exactly a high budget production.

but having been very mean about it, there are a lot of extremely interesting tidbits about the world of professional tasting here! it sounds awful and you couldn't pay me to do it, but here's the cool thing: Naglich is extremely aware that what she does is insane and she knows that the average reader doesn't want to learn how to identify where a coffee bean was grown just by sniffing the bean from across a room. what she offers instead are really approachable ways to be more conscientious about how you interact with and appreciate food! and she also shares some really cool info about tasting snobbery that IS bullshit, to help you sort out the stuff that actually matters and emphasize that fun and personal taste ultimately trump any "rules." it's a very dorky book but I, personally, did have a good time.

Sex Criminals Vol 3: Three the Hard Way (Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, 2016) - every time I read another volume of Sex Criminals I find myself thinking "man, hang on, do I ever actually like Sex Criminals? am I enjoying this?" but then I end up placing a hold on the next one. I don't know, it's charming! it's like so very VERY 2010s in its dialogue, by which I mean it's like. you know. it's giving Joss Whedon before we all found out how bad he sucked and collectively booed him. but man, I love a story that's down to get weird, and Sex Criminals is sooooo about being weird. and yet also very normal where sex is concerned! considering this is a series all about people having freaky world-altering powers that activate when they cum, sex is treated as an incredibly ordinary thing, warts and all. I like that! I like seeing that! idk, I don't need every comic to be perfect, as evidenced by the fact that I'm actively enjoying Azrael: Angel of the Bat. sometimes the vibes are just good.

[anotheruserwithnoname]

Ten years of Whouffaldi

My word, where did 10 years ago?

Ten years ago on Aug. 23, the episode Deep Breath launched the remarkable era of Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor (or true Thirteenth if you want to annoy some people).

And it was the true launch of one of the most interesting romances in sci-fi (friendly reminder that Peter, Jenna Coleman, Steven Moffat, writers and directors have all in some way or another confirmed that this wasn't fans watching with "ship-coloured glasses" - it was canonical. Regardless how some fans and even media have tried - as recently as a few days ago - to pretend it didn't exist.)

I do think it was not intended. It cannot be denied that a lot of people consider there to be an age-gap limit in romances, real-life and fictional, even when both parties are consenting adults. So when Peter replaced Matt - and no one can deny Clara had the hots for Eleven because she flat out says so, several times - they obviously planned on a return to the First Doctor-Susan dynamic with Capaldi (or maybe more accurately Third Doctor-Jo Grant, since Three low-key held a flame for Jo, since Twelve would still remember how he felt as Eleven, plus Three was "Capaldi's Doctor"). But due to the fact Peter and Jenna had such intense chemistry (to this day some fans remain convinced they had a real-life romance, which is not something I ever subscribed to), coupled with the decision to shoot the first episodes of the season in order of broadcast, you can see Moffat and his writers pivoting in real time as they adjusted to the fact that - with no disrespect to Samuel Anderson - Danny Pink was never going to be the next Rory Williams. This is most in evidence with Listen defining a future for Clara and Danny that was definitively retconned by Danny's death in Dark Water.

I know the Capaldi era was not everyone's cup of tea. Season 10 in particular did not age well for me, mainly because it was clearly "one season too many" for Moffat and Capaldi himself seemed to "check out" after a fashion when it became known that the next producer wasn't planning on keeping Twelve around. And if we're going to harp about falling ratings for the show in recent years, Peter never attained the same viewership levels as Matt or David. But for me, Seasons 8 and 9 were - a few off points notwithstanding - the best of the modern era and easily rank alongside the Pertwee years as some of the best this show ever had. (I stopped watching after Season 10 - but having spoken to people whose judgement I trust, I don't think anything that followed is likely to have rendered that statement outdated.)

But I appreciated the more mature approach to the show. Yes, I know DW always was at its core a children's show - though upgraded to family show over time. But having the Doctor and Clara having a mature conversation at the diner, the Doctor inviting a villain to have a drink with him (the closest the Doctor ever got to being James Bond), Clara freaking out about being called a control freak (not to mention her perfect "Nothing is more important than my egomania!"), the fact the episode confirmed that the Doctor did look upon Clara as his girlfriend when he was Eleven, and the fact the episode walks up to ageism and pops it in the nose with Clara being upbraided by Vastra for being ageist because of Twelve no longer being the young man Clara fell for ... all these add up to a remarkable episode and likely the strongest debut story for a Doctor since Spearhead from Space.

Deep Breath also marks the last time we saw the Paternoster Gang on screen. Having praised Moffat for Whouffaldi, now time to aim some criticism his way - he set up a perfect spinoff series (Neve McIntosh is one of my favourite actresses not named Jenna Coleman) and yet never followed through. Say what one might about RTD, we'd have gotten 4 series of Vastra, Jenny and Strax had he been in charge. Big FInish doesn't count though I'm sure Neve and Dan Starkey appreciated the fact they didn't need to put on the makeup all the time! LOL

So happy 10th anniversary to Whouffaldi!

[swifty-fox]

yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - 104k Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Explicit.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

understanding in a plane crash: WIP (5 parter, three parts up) Prequel fic to Kfak, as told from John Brady's perspective as a POW

“The thing you can't quite put your finger on about DeMarco,” He says, “is that you want him to fuck you til you cry. Sorry to spoil the game for you.”

Brady stares at him and stares at him, alone in the Base’s Chapel and rosary halfway finished. He thinks he might throw up, or maybe strangle Curt Biddick and then throw up.

“Lock it up, Johnny, they’re gonna see you bleeding it all over soon.”

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.  

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.”  He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand. 

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. total of 30k of them fucking and arguing. Three Parts so far. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?” 

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.” 

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.  

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn. 

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not . 

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down. 

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed. 

[throneofsapphics]

haunt me like the wind that blows part 2 or both your pillow sides will stay warm forever 😔

haunt me like the wind that blows (part two)

(part one) (part three)

Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: They weren’t her dreams. They couldn’t be, not after how hard she fought to get away from them. 

Word Count: ~2.3k 

Warnings: dark feysand, kidnapping, physical/mental abuse, dubcon, a sprinkle of smut, blood, suicide attempt, gaslighting, not proofread well

A/N: that’s one way to motivate me. mind the warnings please y’all! 

Rhys had dragged her back to Velaris, and Feyre waited with a beaming smile on her face. She welcomed her back as if she’d taken a small trip away - gone to visit a friend or relative, not fled in desperation. 

“I’m so happy you’re home,” she murmured and gathered her in her arms. She had to force herself to remain stiff, to fight the urge to melt into Feyre’s embrace. She despised how right it felt. Nothing about this was right, being dragged back here against her will, stolen away in the middle of the day, from the home and life she built for herself. 

She separated herself from the High Lady, taking a few steps back. Feyre watched her warily, like one might watch a feral kitten. 

Her eyes darted between her and Rhys. 

“Whatever you’re thinking of,” he hissed, “don’t.” 

“I’m sure she’s just readjusting,” Feyre soothed, stepping towards her. “Aren’t you my love?” Y/n swallowed harshly and didn’t answer. She frowned at her, and her voice grew a tad colder. “Aren’t you?” 

She flinched as Feyre’s hand gripped her shoulder, her nails digging in painfully, but tilted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “I hate both of you,” she forced as much venom into her voice as she could. Feyre recoiled slightly and she felt Rhys’s glare on her, branding into her side. 

Talon’s gripped her mind painfully and she forced her walls up. Her body shook slightly under the effort, and she was rendered helpless as another force battered into her. One of them, she could hold out against but both of them it was nearly impossible. 

She grasped her head between her hands, screaming at the top of her lungs. It hurt it hurt it hurt. “Please,” she sobbed, falling to her knees. The pressure was too much, it felt like she would explode - burst into a thousand pieces, her mind gone to the wind and leaving behind a thoughtless, brainless form. As if it was never there, the pressure disappeared. 

Both of them bracketed her sides, pulling her hands away. “What happened?” Rhys asked her, his eyes searching her figure for any wounds. As if he hadn’t just … 

“You …” she looked at Feyre who had the same questioning look on her face. No indication of what they’d done, a perfect mask crafted on both of their faces. “You tried to break into my mind,” her voice grew shrill and loud - screaming into their faces. 

A small sting hit her cheek. Not harsh enough for her to recoil, but enough to surprise her. 

“You will watch your tone,” Rhys’s voice was smooth and cold as night, his eyes filled with warning. She lifted her hand to cup the warmth, the small red patch left behind by his palm. 

Feyre tilted her chin and pressed a kiss over the patch. Y/n had forgotten about this part of them somehow. One would play good, the other would play bad, and they switched roles frequently to leave her reeling. 

Tears filled her eyes, and to her shame they dripped down her cheeks. 

Rhys brushed one away, “You’ll be crying a lot more by the time we’re finished teaching you a lesson.” 

“Rhys,” Feyre chided, but didn’t counter him. 

Her backside was bruised for a week, and that was only the beginning. 

-

“Did anyone else touch you?” Feyre asked so casually she almost missed the intent behind it. 

“No.” An honest answer, she didn’t let anyone, neither did she seek anyone out. No matter how much she despised them, it felt wrong and she couldn’t bring herself to do it - even though she wanted to. 

“And you?” 

“Pardon?” She turned to meet the female’s gaze, finding blue grey eyes filled with predatory intent. 

“Did you seek anyone else out, did you touch another?” 

“No.” She answered firmly, and saw how some tension left Feyre’s shoulders. They would be able to scent if she had. “I wanted to,” she continued before she could think through it. Feyre’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders tightening again. One hand clenched into a fist, before releasing. She’d already dug herself a hole… “There were plenty of offers,” she shrugged casually, and turned away from her, back to the book she’d picked up. Maybe through some strange stroke of kindness, or desire to endear her to them, Rhys had found the book she’d been reading and bought it for her. 

She felt Feyre’s presence standing in front of her, but didn’t look up. Y/n reminded herself that they don’t deserve her attention, her affection, they have no right to it. A gust of wind blew the book away and she bit the inside of her cheek. A hand fisted in the back of her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the arch of her neck. Her mate was furious. Absolutely enraged. Her satisfaction at pissing her off quickly dissipated as she ran a finger down the column of her throat. 

“You belong to us,” she hissed, pulling her up to stand. 

“I belong to no one,” her voice shook but she forced the words out. The grip on her hair tightened painfully and she winced. 

Feyre winnowed them to the bedroom, and she scrambled as soon as they landed - putting as much distance between her and the High Lady as possible. 

“You need a reminder,” Feyre said softly, deceptively gentle, “don’t you, my love?” 

It wasn’t a question that needed an answer, if Feyre decided she needed one, she would be getting one whether she wanted it or not. 

-

She knew they were in her mind. There’s no way she would’ve developed these kinds of feelings on her own. Dreams of a peaceful life with him and Feyre, of her accepting them wholly - dedicating herself to them. 

They weren’t her dreams. They couldn’t be, not after how hard she fought to get away from them. 

If they couldn’t get to her in her waking moments, they would attack her in her sleep - and she was completely defenseless against that, the only solution would be to not sleep, but if she was to escape again she needed to be alive and well to do it. Although, with each passing day escape looked less and less likely. 

It was early, nearly sunrise, and she felt heat coiling inside her, her entire body tightening, a moan of pleasure left her lips as she writhed on the bed, a strong arm holding her waist down as her legs were propped up on shoulders. Long hair tickled the inside of her thighs as lips sucked against her clit. She arched her back, “Feyre,” she moaned … She shot up in bed. 

“Something wrong?” Rhys asked, rolling over to see her. Imprints of the sheets lined his cheeks, but a knowing smile played across his features. 

“No,” her throat bobbed with the word as she ignored the wetness pooling between her thighs. “Just startled.” 

-

Rhys had shields surrounding everything. Every window had a shield on it, the door, the entire river estate - if she were allowed outside. She has no doubt in her mind he had set some sort of alarm to tell him every time she opened one, or went out onto the grounds. Half of the time, she’s able to leave the house, although not the estate, but the other half she can't. He, apparently, hadn’t forgotten her idea for permanent freedom because every time she entered a room - any knives or weapons would disappear. As soon as she finished eating, cutlery would disappear. 

-

She stood in the kitchen, alone. Or she thought she was. She eyed the ceramic mug in her hands - one of her favorites. The impulse came over her, and she acted before thinking it through - the mug crashed to the floor, leaving a few sharp pieces behind. She scrambled to gather them, dropping to her knees and ignoring the sharp sting as a part embedded itself into her skin, she would have to dig that out before they got home. 

The pieces were stored in her pockets, hidden as best as she could. She cleaned up the remaining bits and hoped Nuala and Cerridwen wouldn’t notice one missing mug. 

-

Somehow, she managed to keep the pieces hidden for a few weeks, long enough for her to be able to use them. 

They weren’t due back for another few hours - a visit to Hewn City, and Nuala and Cerridwen were nowhere to be found. Probably spying for Azriel. All the better for her. Over the last several months, she’d spent time trying to earn their trust. Of course, she was still resistant to them at every turn, but showed enough softness for them to start doubting her desire to escape. Enough to balance the line between keeping true to herself, and getting her the time and space to do what she wanted, what she needed. 

She found the sharpest piece, and stood by the mirror. Would she really do this? Go through with it. She has no doubt they’ll find her in another lifetime, but they’re immortal - it would give her centuries of peace. Centuries of freedom. She took in a deep breath, and slashed the piece across one wrist. Then the other. 

Blood loss quickly overcame her, but she felt a sense of peace - as if her brain was going quiet. The last thing she remembered hearing was Rhys’s yelling - what, she couldn’t tell, and a pair of arms catching her as she fell. 

She groaned as she woke, sun rays shining through the windows. She blinked heavily, trying to wipe the sleep and grogginess out of her eyes. Soft sheets surrounded her, an elegant canopy bed … she startled, trying to launch into sitting, but chains yanked her arms behind her, giving her just enough room to sit but not to go any further. Her bedroom, her shared bedroom, at the river estate. A failure, she was a failure. 

“I’m quite glad you failed,” Y/n heard Rhys drawl. She ignored his voice, and tugged at the chains. Soft bandages wrapped around her wrist, dulling any sting or scraping from the iron manacles clamped around her. 

A shadow loomed over her, and fingers tightly gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. She met his eyes, and even as fear began to drip through her she tried to throw every bit of defiance she could into her glare. But, something like fear shone in his eyes. Fear and misery and anger. Could it be a mask? Something he’s throwing on to try to …

“No, it’s not.” He interrupted her train of thought. 

“Get out of my head,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. Rhys didn’t release his grip on her, and forced her to keep looking at him. 

“You have no mental walls left.”

She felt for them, tried to reach them. “You destroyed them.” Her chest tightened, her fists clenched, her breaths grew heavy. Violated, a complete violation of her privacy. 

“We did,” he admitted, finally releasing his grip on her. “You lost the right to any privacy when you tried to kill yourself in our bedroom.” The bed shifted as he sat next to her, running one hand down her thigh. She supposes he thought it would be comforting, or soothing. Her body agreed, but her mind hated it - absolutely hated that he was touching her. She took some satisfaction, a tiny amount, in knowing that if he listened he would know just how much she hated it. 

His hand trailed up her thigh, pushing the nightgown as he went, exposing more of her bare skin. Her breath caught as he traced the inside curve of her thigh. Against her will, a tightness started to build in her core, just a bodily reaction, she chanted to herself, trying to ignore how arousal crept into his scent. 

“I do like you in chains,” he purred into her mind. 

“Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to separate herself from the sensation. His fingers dragged along the inside of her thighs - ghost like touches that left goosebumps in their wake. 

His fingers curled and dug into her skin, harsh enough they would leave bruises behind. “I don’t think you want me to,” hands pushed her shoulders back, laying her out on the bed as he straddled her waist. 

She couldn’t do anything about him on top of her, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. 

“That’s right,” a midnight soft voice echoed in her mind as he traced a knuckle beneath her breast, before his thumb brushed over her nipple. Her hips keened on reaction, bucking up into him. They didn’t move, not with him atop her, but he didn’t miss the motion and a feline smirk crossed his beautiful features. 

His thumb tugged at her bottom lip, releasing it from her teeth. She hadn’t realized she was biting it, or how harshly. A drop of blood had gathered on his finger. His thumb pressed against her lips, and her mouth parted automatically. She tasted her own blood and the slight tang of salt from his skin. His eyes gleamed as her tongue swirled around it. He didn’t have time to pull away as she bit down harshly. Not enough to draw blood or break skin, but just enough to leave imprints behind. He snarled and tugged his finger free, gripping her chin to force her mouth open. 

“Still a brat, I see.” He murmured almost reverently. 

“Did you expect anything else?” She resisted the urge to spit at him. 

His body shifted, and his forearms caged either side of his head. His face, only inches away from her. “I’d be disappointed otherwise.” 

A draft hit her as the door swung open, and soft footsteps padded over to their side. 

Rhys shifted to lay next to her, moving her so Feyre had room to lay on her other side. Caged in between the two of them. Trapped. 

A sickening part of her, the one she wasn’t sure was real, delighted in it. Delighted in being trapped between her two mates - at their mercy. Similar to Rhys’s movements earlier, Feyre stroked up and down her leg, sending a shiver down her spine. “See, this is where you belong,” her voice flittered through her mind. 

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 26

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dark themes, descriptions of dead bodies and corpses, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, frequent mentions of dead bodies, graphic violence, language, moderate body horror, violence.

✦ Word Count: 15.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: [more at the end of the chapter]. This one gets a little dark. Brace yourselves.

[Master List]

The mechanical hum of the jet engines whir on as the auto-pilot maintains your altitude. With Tony’s tech in hand, you’re able to bring up a holographic map of the landscape. Glimmering blue neon lights showcase the 3D rendering of Strucker’s fortress and the nearby city. The faces of the team are grim, at best, with worry lines drawn taut as you lay out the plan.

“We’re going to focus on the evacuation process first and foremost. With any luck, we’ll get the main populace to a safe distance before we need to deal with Ultron. With that said, however, our presence alone will likely not be going unnoticed.”

Steve nods in agreement, shimmering blue blueprints drifting across his hand as he zooms in on the map.

“Our main purpose here is to assist the civilians, after that, we’re going to have Ultron’s eyes set on us. We know he has the cradle and the scepter. If he’s going to do something with them, it���s going to be fast. He likely knows we’re already approaching.”

You take it back over, “Our heaviest hitters are going to be the first wave for him. I need Stark and Banner with me. Once Thor arrives, that will give us another advantage. Steve, Clint, Natasha, you’re going to need to keep on the evacuation. If any rogue bots come along, you’re going to be the main defense for the people.”

Bruce clears his throat and your eyes immediately fall upon the doctor.

“Uhm, actually, about that…”

A sigh falls from your lips. Sparring the supersoldier a look, you gently tug on Bruce’s arm, “Let’s talk. Shall we?”

You escort the slightly befuddled man to the back of the jet while Steve continues on in your stead, “Sam’s en route, he’ll meet us once we land…”

“Bruce.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I can help with the evacuation. By the time we get Thor here - ”

“We need the Hulk.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to bring him out?”

Your shoulders drop as you stare down at the scientist.

“I know you don’t think that I understand your situation - ”

He snorts, crossing his arms with bristling agitation, “Because you don’t.”

You let him have a moment before you continue forward. “You don’t want to bring him out around a civilian populace. I understand that, Bruce, I do. But if we don’t have our best - our strongest - to deal with Ultron? Then there’s no point to any of this and we should just turn around and watch the world fall at our feet.”

His hands drop to his sides and his eyes become unwilling to meet your face, but still, you press on.

“You’re not the only one, you know, still dealing with the aftermath of yesterday. Do you think I’ve forgotten what I almost did? What my rage was nearly capable of doing? Because I haven’t, Bruce. I’m actively trying to focus my attention on what we’re about to do because that is where the true danger lies. And tomorrow, once we hopefully walk away from this and the day is saved, then I will deal with my own guilt and anger. And I will try to right my wrongs. But for now… we have to fight.”

You finish your words with a hand on his shoulder.

“Like it or not, hate him or not, he is necessary for us to have a possible victory. Without him, Sokovia just might not be standing when we’re done.”

Bruce exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring as he peers up at you.

“God, you’re worse than Rogers when it comes to speeches,” he sighs, rubbing at his temple. “Fine, you get him. One round! Then I’m done.”

“I can work with that,” you offer before you both return to the group.

As you cross over farm fields and pastures filled with grazing animals, Tony flies up alongside the jet.

“What, were you seriously going to start the party without me?”

Luckily, he drops the attitude pretty fast and confirms with Steve that he’s been working through different scans to locate Ultron since he crossed the Sokovian border.

“Big guy’s hiding out in his fortress of solitude,” Tony hypothesizes, hand on his jaw. “Bet my money on it that he’s got the cradle under lock and key.”

“Then that’s where we go,” you decide, nodding at the billionaire.

Clint lands the jet just outside of the city’s limits, in roving farmland and freshly plowed fields. The archer hoists his quiver over his shoulder, pulling Natasha off for a quiet moment in the corner of the jet. You can’t help but stare at the couple as they pull away from the view of the others.

Was it strange that you hadn’t noticed that development? Was it more obvious to you, now, knowing that they were in fact together?

“You good?”

Looking up, you’re graced with the presence of the supersoldier.

“Fantastic, really,” you say with a quick roll of your eyes.

Steve gives you a warm chuckle in return as you move down the ramp with him, allowing the couple to have their moment together in peace. He already has his shield on his harness, his helmet remains in his hands.

Tony and Bruce are waiting nearby, but Steve tugs on your wrist - keeping you from joining them.

“Yeah, I’ve got Rhodes on standby, and JARVIS is working through schematics, you know how he is - ”

Glancing down at your own shield for a moment, you stare out at the rolling farm fields. Cattle graze in the clover down the way from the jet - a few of them eyeing the machine with suspicion. But so far, it’s only the team and the pasture-grazing animals around.

“I’ll take Bruce,” you decide, finally meeting the still bluish-grey eyes of your companion. “He’s having… doubts, about the team and his place on it. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”

Steve nods, “Best person for the job.”

“And you’ll take Natasha. You’ve done well together in the past anyway,” you smile.

A warm laugh greets your ears, “And hopefully we meet up somewhere in between, right?”

From behind you, the footsteps of the remaining two make their presence known down the metal ramp. Your time was nearly up.

“That’s the plan, Rogers,” you state, moving your shield to rest on your own back harness. 

“Stay safe, okay?”

You smack his shoulder gently with your free hand.

“You too. I better see you back in one piece at the end of this,” you gesture at his upper torso with a wave of your hand.

Steve laughs, gaining a few interesting looks from the rest of the team who all find something far more interesting to look at when he turns to face them.

When his gaze lands back on your face, there’s a warmth there in his eyes that you’ve noticed has become a new normal for him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says at last, giving your hand a final squeeze.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you return the gesture. You can feel the rapid beating of his heart through his veins.

You had to make it out of here alive, all of you. There were no other options.

“Hey, not to interrupt,” Tony interrupts. “But I don’t think our friend is going to want to wait around much longer to enact his evil schemes.”

With a shaking head and a small chuckle, you regretfully pull away from the blonde and move toward the rest of the team.

“Okay,” Steve says, just a step behind you. “We know our teams, we know our mission.”

“Let’s go smash some robot ass,” Clint snarks.

Steve merely tilts his head to the side and shrugs as if to say fair enough.

You spare him a final look as you and Bruce head off toward the Western portion of the city - the business district. While Stark and Barton start trekking it toward the northernmost part of the city, Steve’s eyes follow you for just a few moments more before he reluctantly heads east with Natasha.

You recognized this place.

Not the city itself, but the remnants of a once bustling populace. A place that was consumed by war. Torn limb from limb by external and sometimes internal forces. No, it was a sight you had seen too often in your time on this world.

The faces of the people in Sokovia could so easily be replaced with those from Warsaw, Delhi, or Rome. You recognized that haunted, terrified look. You knew what was coming. You just weren’t sure if you could stop it in time.

Looking over at your companion, you can see the twitchiness of his eyes as he takes in the vast number of fleeing civilians. Oh, the thoughts that must be going through his head right now.

“I’ve got you, you know,” you say as you jog down the cobblestone streets.

Bruce glances over at you, an untrusting look in his eyes.

“This isn’t going to be like Johannesburg, Bruce. Any mutant that comes near is going to have to get through me first. We’re going to keep these people safe and we’re going to do our best to keep this city from falling.”

“Lot of promises,” he says.

Offering him a shrug, you suggest, “We can pinky promise it if that’ll help ease your mind.”

Up ahead, the yells of several civilians grab your attention. Halting in your tracks, the two of you stare at the massive traffic jam on the bridge ahead of you.

Bruce rolls his shoulders back, “Let’s get to work.”

They’re deep within the part of the city known as Old Town. Rushing down the streets and between navigating the tightly-wound roads Natasha has allotted the time to properly pester him as they go.

“Wow. You know, I honestly thought we were going to get a love confession back there.”

Steve eyes her out of his peripheral, “You know what, Romanoff…”

“Hey,” she shrugs, pointing at the next street with her chin. “Maybe next time, right?”

“Let’s just hope there is a next time,” he admits, eyes wide as he glances around at the otherwise empty street.

“This, this can’t be right,” Natasha says at a barren intersection.

“Yeah, Hill’s good, but not this good. You can’t move 50,000 people that fast.”

Heading north, through the tight alleys and sidestreets, the city begins to bleed through with the memories of wartorn Europe, circa 1945. While it was clear that day-to-day life was continuing for the residents, stark reminders lay around every corner. Shattered windows and partially destroyed buildings resided next to market stores and laundromats.

Even here in what looks like a busy section of the city, they can’t find a single person. The lights are still on in the shops and restaurants, a car is idling on the street. But there is no driver, no waitstaff, not a single customer.

Just a handful of birds pecking at some overturned garbage along the alleyway. 

“Something’s not right.”

Natasha nods, “Any word on Wilson yet?”

“Said he was en route, any time now.”

“We need eyes in the sky. Actually, Stark?”

While Nat tries to get a hold of Tony, Steve continues to jog down the street, hoping to find just one person. But still, the city is silent. There’s an eeriness about it, one that the supersoldier remembers all too well from his days of walking through smoldering French villages.

He can still recall the sight of black smoke rising in the sky, and the smell of burnt wood mixed with decaying bodies. It was never a memory he liked to see pulled back up to the surface, but today, as he wanders through the town, that troubling thought plays like a sickening record in his mind.

And then he spots it.

An elderly woman, moving at a slow pace, walking towards the western portion of town.

Not waiting for Natasha, Steve barrels forward.

“Ma’am, we need to get you out of here.”

But the woman doesn’t even look up to acknowledge him. Right, a language barrier, of course. However, when Steve moves in front of her, he sees a troubling sheen of red mist over the woman’s bleary eyes. She pushes right past him as if… in a trance.

“NAT!” he calls out, waving his arm.

They’re unable to redirect the woman, so… they end up following the only person left in this part of town. Natasha clicks her tongue when they enter the center of the city. Steve follows her gaze up toward the imposing steeple of an ornate cathedral, just a few yards away from them.

“So… what are you thinking?” he asks in an almost whisper as they continue to trail the woman.

“Either they’re locking them in for Ultron to deal with, or they’re trying to actually help.”

His features scrunch in confusion, “By putting civilians in the dead center of town?”

“They’re kids, Rogers. Not soldiers.”

Before they can get any closer, Steve’s knocked backward - landing next to the streetlight, opposite the cathedral.

A white-haired teen appears in front of them, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the supersoldier with a wild sort of look in his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy chides, waving his finger back and forth.

“We need to get these people to safety,” Steve urges, pushing himself up from the curb.

“They are already safe. What use are you to them? Hmm? Mr. America.”

A bullet comes whizzing past, but the boy merely plucks it out of the air like it was fully stationary. He tosses it from one hand to the other as Steve stands back up. His eyes quickly scan the street front, looking for the other one, the girl. Natasha’s already backed a few paces away, likely doing the same.

So, he plays the distraction card. Get him to talk.

“They’re not safe here. They need to get out of the city.”

The boy drops the bullet just to look up at Steve with a curious expression.

“You really don’t get it, do you? Nobody is safe now. No one. In there,” he gestures back at the church. “They are safe. Out here - running for their lives? Not so much.”

The boy pushes past him at lightning speed, nearly knocking Steve off-center again. Frustration growing, he grabs his shield and sends it flying at the kid. But the boy merely zips out of existence, running around him at such a speed that the dust and debris of the street whip around the supersoldier like a temporary sandstorm.

Holding a hand to his eyes, Steve yells out, “Knock it off!”

When he finally regains sight of the boy, he is lounging on top of the hood of an abandoned car. 

“Go ahead, see how far you get with them.”

Natasha, ever the observant one, sets her calculating gaze upon the mutant.

“You stopped helping Ultron. Why?”

He looks away, suddenly silent.

“Not all he was chucked up to be, is that it?” she goads.

But the harder he looks at the boy, he realizes just that: it’s a boy. Probably no more than sixteen. A kid who spent the majority of his life behind bars, at the mercy of Strucker and HYDRA, and god knows what else. The first sign of help in the form of Ultron had to have been like a lifeline for him and the other mutant.

And he could have turned tail, made for the hills, and never looked back once he was free of them. But here he was.

He takes a step forward, wedging himself between Nat and the kid.

“Why are they safer in there than outside of the city limits?”

The boy blinks up at Steve, pushing back a strand of his curling white hair.

“Do you really think that thing is only going to attack this place? His reach will surpass anything you can even imagine. In there… they have her to protect them.”

Steve looks toward the cathedral. Then he peers over at the boy once again.

“You managed to save a handful of the people here. Where are the others?”

That’s when he slides off the hood of the vehicle, dropping down in front of Steve and Natasha. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and breathes out an unsteady breath.

“What others? There is no one else.”

Natasha blinks, “This city has a population of over 53,000 people.”

He laughs, “Had. It had a larger populace, yes. Until he showed up and you showed up and a war happened. People, they go missing. Where to?” He shrugs, “Who cares, right? I know it is no Johannesburg or New York, but people died here too, you know. But hey, what do I know, right? Want my advice, pack up your guns and your shields and run.”

“Okay,” Nat placates, grabbing hold of the kid’s shoulder and tugging him close before he can try to pull away. “You need to tell your little friend to send these people out of here so that they might stand a chance of not having an Ultron-sized bomb dropped on them.”

The boy yanks away, looking disgusted that the assassin's hand even touched him.

“We have it under control.”

Steve, once again, pushes his way in between her and the boy.

“I believe you do.”

The kid’s eyes look up at him with something almost like pride radiating in his irises.

“And… I think you could help us make sure no one else gets hurt. I can’t believe that all of these buildings have been cleared of people. You’re the fastest person I have ever seen. I’m sure you could blaze through this city in only a minute’s time to confirm that fact.”

He blinks up at Steve with a boyish grin, “You are trying very hard to flatter me. Luckily, I’m easily flattered.”

His eyes lift from the boy to see the female mutant making her way across the street toward the three of them. She’s a foot shorter than the boy, with stringy auburn hair and crimson eyes.

Steve unconsciously wants to recoil the moment he sees her. That invisible wound was still pretty fresh.

“Do not bother,” she instructs, tugging the boy back by his wrist. She looks up at Steve, her gaze unnerving in its intensity. “There is no one else.”

“How can you be sure?” Nat questions.

She turns her head slowly toward the assassin, drawing her words out slowly, “Anyone left in this city, who heard my voice in their head, came. There is no one left.”

“They should still be evacuated. They will be safer outside of the city’s limits.”

“How can you be sure?” she questions, blinking up at Steve.

He looks around at the abandoned streets, at the crumbling buildings, and prevailing silence.

“Because we’re going to keep the fight here. We’re going to keep Ultron from getting any further than this place. And we could honestly use any help we can get.”

The girl tilts her head as she continues to stare at him. 

“Why should we care?” the boy asks after a beat, eyes glancing between the supersolider and the Widow.

Before Steve can answer, Nat moves forward, fixing them both with a steady look.

“Why would you, right? You have your freedom now, what should you care if this place burns to the ground, yeah? I mean, you guys were under lock and key for how many years, why should you care about this place - these people? Did they ever help you?”

As much as he wants to interrupt, he knows she’s getting to a point. So, Steve forcibly closes his lips into a thin line, gaze held on the girl’s glowing red hands.

“You got your revenge,” she turns her eyes on the girl. “We saw the pictures. Go ahead, wipe your hands free of this mess, and get out of town. No one would even know.”

With a hint of a smirk, Nat rubs at her left wrist before she forces her emerald eyes back up.

“But I think you know better than that. You know what you could do, even if they never repay you. Never say a simple thank you. The two of you, you’ve got gifts. Be a shame to see them go to waste.”

After an uneasy moment, the girl looks over at the boy. He offers her only a half-hearted shrug. The decision apparently made, she replies:

“I do not fight for you, or with you. We fight for our people.”

Steve nods in return, “That’s reason enough.”

As you redirect the flow of traffic, all you can think is the comms are awfully silent. Hopefully, that was a good sign. Sometimes in situations like this, silence could be a good thing. Cronus, you hoped it was a good thing.

“We’re clear over here,” Bruce waves to you from across the street.

Maria had already gotten the local authorities involved long before you crossed the Atlantic. The evacuation had been ongoing for the past hour, luckily with the majority of the city’s residents moving into a designated safe location a few kilometers in either direction of the city.

“Okay, we’re done on our end,” Tony’s voice chimes over the comm. “Heading your way, 007. It’s showtime.”

With a nod toward the police officer you had been working beside, you jog over to Banner. 

“Guess that means we’re on now, yeah?” he questions, a worrying tone in his voice as you both turn to see the glimmering red and gold suit making its way toward your location.

Giving his arm a hopefully reassuring squeeze, you remind him, “I’ve got you, Banner.”

Though the doctor doesn’t seem entirely settled by your words, the three of you make your way to the fortress, now a crumbling ruin from your mission there over a week ago.

“This should be fine, right?” Tony asks. His visor is flipped up as the two of you squeeze through the broken stone walls - his arc reactor giving you a guiding light through the darkened corridors.

“Ultron, you mean?”

“Uh, no. Big green and angry back there. Last time we went toe to toe, well, you know.”

“Oh,” you comment, glancing back at Bruce, who remains a good few feet behind the two of you - stumbling over loose debris. “I’m sure, all things considered, he’ll be the least of your worries here in a minute.”

Passing by a familiar room, you pause. Tony barrels forward without even noticing you. Bruce, on the other hand, stops.

“What is it?” he murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the destroyed command center.

“Hill said Strucker was killed in the mutants’ holding cells. I want to check it out really quick.”

Though he doesn't seem to like the idea of you splitting away from the group, Bruce trails after Tony while you break off to go and investigate the holding cells. Your curiosity gets the better of you as you enter the room you had been standing in just days before.

It looks exactly the same, except for the corpse of a man lying in the center of the boy’s cell. With the gate broken off its hinges, you merely step into the barred area. Dropping down into a crouch, you examine the body of Wolfgang Strucker.

His eyeglass is still in place, the glass intact. It’s his terrified eyes that interest you, still held wide - like he was witnessing the truest kind of horrors imaginable. His mouth remains agape as if mid-scream. But there are no obvious signs of trauma, no pools of blood. Just the husk of a man.

Your immediate inclination was that this was not the result of Ultron himself.

But as you move to leave, something odd catches your eye.

Just near the collar of his turtleneck, was that…

Reaching a finger out, you pull back the silicone material of a mask. Easing it off of the corpse, a man you don’t immediately recognize greets you. Or rather, the very decomposed remnants of a man.

Holding a hand to your nose, you lurch back.

This was not Baron Strucker. It never had been.

“Double-O! We’re going to need you to stop lollygagging.”

Sparring the body one final look - you would need to send someone in to detail this if you were able to deal with the threat of the day - you hurry back to the others.

Into the belly of the castle you go, where the echo of your footsteps is the only sound. Just over a week ago, this place was lit up like the fourth of July, with drones and HYDRA scientists running rampant. Even now you can see the remnants of the battle. The scorch marks of flickering lightning across the walls, the blasts of repulsors, and the chunks of stone damaged by gunfire.

The dungeons under the main labs are massive and labyrinthesque. You had only glimpsed the looming Leviathan hanging from the ceiling of the central lab, but that had been enough to turn even your stomach.

Humans were not equipped to deal with the likes of the Tesseract or the scepter. Whatever visions of hell that Strucker had intended to unleash upon the world were far worse than any attacking alien forces. Perhaps only the hulking drone standing before you could compare.

Ultron waits in silence in the middle of the room.

He is a towering figure; standing at least eight feet tall if you had to hazard a guess. Appearing nothing like the object Tony had once created, as sleek metal now covers his mechanical form. His glowing red eyes only blink open when the sound of Tony’s heavy suit makes contact with the concrete floor.

He blinks.

“Uh… have you been juicing? Little vibranium cocktail? You’re looking… I don’t want to say puffy - ”

The robot tilts his head, staring with his glowing optical receptors at his inadvertent creator. You take your chance and begin slinking along the far wall, away from Ultron’s line of sight. If anyone could play the role of a perfect distraction, it would be the billionaire with a habit of running his mouth. You needed to locate the cradle.

“You are stalling to protect the people.”

“Well,” Tony starts. “That is the mission. Or did you forget?”

“I am the global peacekeeper. I protect humanity from itself. From the threat of the Avengers,” comes the cold reply of automation. “You will lead to humanity’s downfall. You will be to blame if I allow you to continue existing,” he monologues to Tony.

Before you’re able to slip behind a set of shelves, a ghostly hand phases through the wall - snatching hold of your shoulder. 

You turn to see a new contender - with a face as red as a pomegranate and a body of emerald green, hovering directly in front of you. That human-like hand reaches up and grips your throat as he lifts you off the ground. With his other hand, he pulls the Aegis from your grasp - throwing it across the lab where it lands in a giant clatter of materials.

“Put her down,” Tony calls out in warning.

The man squeezes your neck even harder, your airway tightening as you begin to pull at his hands, kicking your feet into his impenetrably hard torso. Like breathing through a straw, you force your breaths as you concentrate your energy on his deathlike grip.

“My Master says there are no gods in a peaceful world,” he intones, staring down at you with calculating eyes.

Gasping breaths escape through your nose as your face begins to puff. You almost have a single finger pulled free when his hand phases through your neck. Sinching itself around your pumping veins, he pinches the artery to the point of annihilation, when you’re both tossed several feet away - rolling over shelves and piles of metal junk and each other as the Hulk slams his fists into the man’s face.

“NO TOUCHING,” he roars.

You desperately pull in helpless retching breaths as the green monstrosity pummels the creature down into the floor.

“Hey, on your feet. Come on,” Tony urges as he swoops over to your side, pulling you up by the arm.

As you stare at the man, you summon your shield and spear back to your side. Ultron remains unmoving in the center of the room, red optical eyes watching the fight with a sort of fascination.

“I’m going to tear his head from his neck,” you promise as your eyes begin to turn shimmering gold.

Tony slaps you on the back just as the man blasts the Hulk up and over a stretch of workbenches.

“That a girl.”

And then he’s soaring across the room to slam his feet directly into the man’s face. You’re after him just a beat later, ready to plunge the head of your dory through his heart.

“Things are looking clear up above,” Sam’s voice rings in his ears. “Got Redwing on the lookout for stragglers.”

Steve watches as the teen directs her wandering hoard of helpless civilians toward the city limits. He was still uneasy around her, ever since their encounter in Johannesburg. But that wasn’t his concern for today, he had to push it from his mind.

“Things are going to get nasty really quick here,” Nat warns, a hand to her comm piece.

The supersolider stares down at her, “What is it?”

“Reports of metal men swarming the police station.”

With a grunting nod, Steve slides his arm through the shield’s handles. They knew this was coming. Ultron wouldn’t keep his forces at bay forever. 

Steve watches as the last of the civilians are pushed forward by the girl’s powers. Eventually, the red mist fades away. Some turn back with a terrified look on their face, others let out a scream, but the majority start running down the country road - eager to get as far away from here - from them - as possible.

“Now what?” the girl asks, turning to stare at the supersoldier with those disconcerting red eyes of hers.

As if on cue, a low groaning roar arches its way across the sky. And Steve's almost anticipating another Leviathan to be soaring toward them. But what he sees, instead, is even more chilling. 

A serpent-like formation of drones skyrockets across the tops of the buildings, with their sights set directly on them.

“Get these people out of here!” he calls out to the boy, who spares one look at the incoming attack before he disappears in a flash of electric white light.

Clint positions himself in front of the girl, an arrow already notched. With his shield up and ready, they're bombarded by the sound of a hundred or more robots rushing through their ears like an oncoming freight train, a deafening sound as bullets and lasers and metal on metal hails down upon them.

With all of his might, Steve pushes his shield up - trying to protect his own head as the drones ram themselves into him, swarming them, drowning them.

Natasha’s rocked backward, with Clint screaming her name as she disappears under the sea of metal. The robots move so quickly past them, that Steve soon loses sight of everything - a world of haunting silver his only view. The weight of them all, pressing down upon him, forces the air from his lungs, crushing him.

His ribs are cracking under the sheer weight of the sentry forces as they claw at him like the hoards of hell trying to break free. They pierce his skin with their hands, sharp vibranium armor makes sickly metallic blood pour from his temple.

He yells out, but even that sound can’t be heard past the groans of mechanical gears and the creaking of metal joints. The shield, once a protection, now digs into his sides, causing the sharp vibranium to cut through his uniform; piercing his skin. Blood rushes from the open wounds and he can feel tears pricking at his eyes as the full weight of an immovable force flattens him out.

He’s fighting it, pushing back with all of his might, but it’s not enough. He can’t stop them, he’s going to be crushed to death.

And then a piercing shriek comes from his own lips as his entire body is set aflame - white hot currents rushing through his limbs, electrocuting him, blinding him. He witnesses a universe in motion, a world ablaze, before its sudden destruction in a flash of overpowering light.

With the sudden tons of weight removed from him, Steve rolls over onto his knees and coughs up broken gasps. His shattered ribs pull against his muscles, scraping the sensitive flesh. It’s fine. He can walk it off.

At first, he can’t hear it, but then his temporary deafness fades as his eyes blink and he can see Thor, in all of his godly glory standing in the center of a destructive ring.

“Are you alright, Captain?” he asks, holding out a hand for Steve to hold.

They hadn’t even stood a chance against the sentry forces. Pushed over like a line of dominoes.

“Been better,” he admits, his knees groaning as a sharp pain ripples through his body. But he forces himself to stand, gripping the leather bands of the shield’s inner straps.

Walk it off.

His eyes trail over the twitching figures laid out like waste on the street around them. Currents of electricity glitch across open circuits, with body parts situated in unnatural positions. Amongst the destruction, he spots Clint helping Natasha up - both of them looking far worse for wear.

And then a scream, a gut-wrenching sound, echoes across the empty fields as the young mutant stumbles back into a pile of drones.

“Easy, easy,” the white-haired one is saying, holding placating hands in front of her face.

But she’s kicking backward, still crying out in terror. 

Sharing a confused look with the God of Thunder, Steve gathers his strength and moves over toward the pair. He kneels down in front of her, holding her arms in his hands. She tries to pull away, twisting her face to look anywhere but in front of her.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he tries to say in a calming tone. She was a kid, she should never have been here to begin with.

But she merely whimpers, and holds a shaking finger pointed out in front of her.

Steve’s eyes trail down her arm, following the direction of her hand.

“Is that…?” Clint starts to question.

But the supersoldier immediately curls himself up in front of the girl, blocking the view from her line of sight. Nodding toward the boy, whose gaze is also locked on it, he orders:

“Get her out of here.”

When the boy doesn’t move, Clint forcibly grabs the kid by the arm and yanks him in the direction of the girl, “NOW.”

His mouth is gaping open and closed, wild steely eyes cast across the other drones, but he manages to swoop down and gather her into his arm - whispering something in her ear - before he zips away.

With them out of sight, Steve finally stands back up and looks back at the horrific sight.

Thor lingers beside him, gazing down at it with a pinched brow.

Natasha joins them, her calculating eyes latching onto the remnants of mechanical engineering.

“We got it wrong,” she mutters.

Steve turns his eyes away from it at last.

Unable to look into the dull eyes of the human head for a moment longer. 

Lodged between a metal helmet, sits the sagging skin of a woman - now cut to ribbons, but without a drop of blood to spare - staring up at them. The ghastly image of a corpse stuck between silver armor.

“We did,” he admits softly. Looking toward the sky, where Sam is now engaged with a handful of drones.

Ultron didn’t want to evolve himself.

He wanted to evolve the human race. Into his image.

Weed out the imperfections that made humanity what it was. Create a perfectly peaceful world order.

“Uh, Steve,” Clint calls out.

When he looks back, he’s perplexed to see the glimmering bits of tiny silver fading away to reveal the destroyed remains of human bodies. The armor disappears, leaving the lumps of once-living flesh as a stark reminder of their failure on the barren street. Men, women. Fuck.

Children.

He spared no one.

Natasha turns away, pushing her hair back with a shaking hand.

“What do we do, Cap?”

All eyes turn toward him.

And Steve can honestly say, that at this moment, he has no idea.

Nothing you throw at this man - this robotic abomination - seems to make any real difference, as every weapon and punch you try to land just phases through his body. Ghostly wisps of bending light wrap around your hand as you physically recoil from the sensation.

Even the Hulk, with all of his rage and power, is no match for this being, a child of Ultron, the true reason for the cradle.

As you’re slammed into the ground, for the sixth time in the span of minutes, the red-faced creature peers down at you with slow-blinking, calculating eyes.

“Stay down,” he orders with a curt nod before he uses that strange glowing gem in his forehead to create a direct laser beam toward Tony.

“Fat chance,” you mutter, kicking your right leg directly up into his groin.

It does nothing to him, as all of your attacks so far have.

As you twist up and off the floor of the decimated lab, you catch sight of Ultron with his back turned to all of you - staring at some rather disturbing schematics on a screen in front of him.

Red dots, forming waves from the sheer vastness of them all, begin blinking on the computer - all surrounding a section of the city to the east of your location.

At once, battle plans and ancient strategies rush through your mind as you try to evaluate your opponent to circumvent his next play.

He created a creature to do his bidding because he had more important things to do. Like monitoring a screen where an unimaginable number of his forces are currently heading toward a large populace. And he didn’t seem particularly interested in the three of you now, as if you were merely fodder for his creation. But the screen held his attention. That could only mean…

Shit.

“Stark!” You call out, mind spinning from the quickness of your assessment.

The iron face turns to stare at you from up above. He had just been about to enact his countermeasure with the Hulk set to distract the robotic being.

“Better be good,” he clips, gazing back at the two creatures - one losing his collective shit as he throws metal workbenches and desktops at the other, who remains slow-moving and unbothered as items continue to phase through his body.

Choosing your words carefully, you simply say, “Napoleon.”

Tony fully turns to look at you, the phasers in his hand dying down to non-combative lights.

“Battle of Ulm,” you add, eyeing the 8-foot-tall monster several feet away from you both. 

Distract the front of the army while you flank the rear - circling them, tearing them to shreds - before the generals even know what’s going on.

You can almost see the literal shuddering breath he takes as the realization weighs down upon him. And then his head rightens back up and he soars over to you, offering a hand.

“Hold on tight, we’re about to have some heavy turbulence.”

With a grimace, you wrap your fingers tightly around his metal armor plating and hang on for dear life as Tony zooms straight upwards - breaking through the stone ceiling. Guarding your face with your arm as rubble descends upon you, he pushes upward - through another two floors - before you finally break free. Cool gray sky greets you as you both look to see the city several kilometers away.

Smoldering black smoke tarnishes the clouds as the sound of screams and gunfire rings out.

You glance down at your dangling legs as you twist your wrist just a little more to the right to keep a steady hold on the only thing keeping you from falling. From the inside of the helmet, you can hear Tony’s sneer. Without a word of warning, he flies toward the city at breakneck speeds - your body like a ragdoll in the wind as you’re dragged along for the ride.

Over the crumbling buildings, he takes you. From your vantage point, you can see the destruction in real time as structures are blown to bits by encroaching drones in shiny silver armor; a high upgrade from the original Iron Legion. People, still left in the city, are fleeing for their lives - screams ring out, terror clear as day.

“Where the hell are they?” He grumbles, scanning the area.

To the east, you see arcs of blue-white lightning - you can smell the electric energy in the air.

“There!” you call out.

In a snap, you’re hurdling to the right. You have to throw up another hand just to maintain your grip on his forearm as the wind whips against you.

As you crest the line of Soviet-style apartment buildings, you witness the horror that is the team’s current situation.

Encircled by a vast and growing number of drones - like a tidal wave - they’re tightly packed, back-to-back. Thor’s the heavy hitter, lightning sending the bots back and short-circuiting their systems. Sam’s got Redwing taking shots for him as he does his best to block Natasha and Clint with his wings, but it's close quarters. And Steve -

“Whoa!” Tony calls out as you release your grip - dropping several stories down into the center of the chaos.

When you land, your feet break through the asphalt. Almost immediately, you send out your shield with such a mighty force that it cleanly severs the heads on the first two circles of drones.

“Holy shit,” Clint remarks as he switches out one of his more techy arrows for his explosive ones.

Steve catches your eye for just a second, blood is pouring down above his left temple.

“Sorry we’re late,” you shout over the sound of mechanical horror as your shield comes back to your hand - slicing through another dozen or so robots in the process.

“There’s too many of them!” he yells back as he does the same.

You couldn’t agree more, as he’s forced back into you, stepping on your foot as you nearly stumble over Clint’s knee and the edge of Sam’s wings.

Thinking quickly on your feet, you call out, “THOR! Fly out! Take the higher vantage point and turn them to ash!”

The God of Thunder doesn’t need to be told twice, as he whips his hammer up and tries to break free of the climbing waves of metallic drones.

His absence causes their forces to squeeze you in tighter, and only then, do you notice the bodies that litter the ground. But they have been long since deceased. When Steve knocks his shield into the juncture of one of the bot’s necks, you finally realize just what has happened since Ultron escaped the tower.

You turn your face away as a lifeless head rolls up and over Steve’s shield before landing at your feet. The dull eyes of a man stare up at you with sagging lips and hollowed grey cheeks.

Steve bangs his elbow into your sternum just as Sam’s wings clip your right shoulder. The outer rings of the drone attack are beginning to fall, thanks to Thor’s lightning, but it’s not enough. Not nearly fast enough.

And then you hear it. You all hear it.

The spine-chilling roar of the Hulk as buildings begin to crumble. You can feel the pounding of his feet in your chest as he jumps across the city, and the slamming of his hands as he crushes everything in sight.

But before he can reach you -

“Shit,” you mutter as the red and green being appears above you all, tilting his head to the side as he watches the five of you get squeezed together more and more tightly.

“Who the hell is that?” Nat manages to question as she throws out her Widow Bites one more time.

“Child of Ultron, courtesy of the cradle,” you manage to say in between a robotic hand going for your neck and another trying to pull you down into the pits of dead bodies at your feet.

“We were too late,” Steve says, wild eyes latching on to you as he quickly yanks you back up - elbowing the bot who had tried to strangle you.

“Pattern of the week, yeah.”

The being, with his disturbing eyes, stares down at you directly, before his gaze drifts over to the green monster hot on his trail.

“Hey, you got a plan or something?” Sam hollers above the clambering waves of robots, hellbent on killing you all.

“WORKING ON IT!” you yell back, ducking down as a drone comes tumbling over you. You manage to sucker punch the creature in the torso - your fingers tear apart the metallic armor - but it slips through your fingers like pieces of firm paper, like… nanobots.

Oh, that made so much more sense.

Ultron had swept through Tony’s files, all of Tony’s files. Even his experimental ones. With the scepter and the cradle in hand, he had created the things that Stark could only dream of.

As the human woman crumbles before you, her lifeless body crashing to the ground with no amount of fanfare, you turn toward Steve.

“I need a boost.”

He’s in the middle of defending himself, but after landing a punch, he quickly spins around and drops his shield onto his knee.

“Come back for us, yeah?” he asks as you steady yourself on top of it - a hand held out to balance your weight on the domed surface.

Looking down into his weary blue eyes, you nod, blood pumping through your head like cannonfire, “Always.”

“Odinson!” you yell out. “Incoming!”

And then you’re being thrown upward, careening through the air, as you twist your body around - holding out a hand. It takes a second too long, but Thor comes soaring past, his large fingers wrapping around your wrist as you’re yanked in the opposite direction.

From down below, you could barely see the others up above you with the massive wall of never-ending drones. But now, now you can see everything.

“Where’s Stark?” you yell above the madness as your feet make contact with the roof of a neighboring building.

“There!” Thor roars, hammer pointed at a Leviathan-looking swarm of drones high above the city where Tony and War Machine are now battling in tandem.

“We need to break their connection with Ultron. Like the Chituri all over again. Kill the queen, you kill the colony.”

“That simple?” he questions.

Unsure of your own logic at this moment, you answer, “It has to be. Or we’re truly fucked.”

A smirk teases at his lips, “Such language from such a fair lady.”

“Save it,” you push at his forearm. “Now, you need to break through that wall or we’re going to lose a third of our team in the next minute. I don’t care how; just do it.”

Giving you a nod and a quirked eyebrow, Thor drops down to the street below, throwing his hammer out at the nearest line of drones.

Jumping onto the comms, you say, “Stark, I need you to start working some science for me.”

“Little busy,” comes the grunted reply. You can see him weaving through a spiraling formation of drones from where you're standing.

“We need to sever their connection to Ultron. They're spreading, like a disease - ”

“A virus might be more accurate here - ”

“Tony,” Rhodes warns.

“It's nanobot tech, in case you haven't noticed. Housing humans inside of it like a chrysalis. That’s his motive. People in his literal image.”

“And a God-like superiority complex, fantastic.”

“Will you stop gabbing and fucki- ”

“Give me ten, Double-O. I'm already on it.”

“Okay,” you mutter, watching from above as several battles take place at once. The team on the ground, Tony and Rhodes to the northwest, Hulk and the creature -

“HULK!” You begin waving your frantic hands at him, hoping to Cronus that just this once, he would not smash.

You see the flicker of rage in his eyes as he pauses mid-punch, his gaze turned toward you.

“FORGET HIM,” you call out, pointing your finger at your entrapped teammates down below, “THEY NEED YOU MORE.”

“BUT… SMASH,” he complains, holding out a hand in reference to the strange being floating a few feet away from him.

“NOW,” you command.

And, Cronus, wasn’t it terrifying to know the power you held over him because the Hulk lets out a chest-banging roar before he pushes through the creature to drop down as you ordered him to do. In an instance, robots are being thrown left and right and a path is being slowly cleared toward your team.

“Okay,” you call out. “Have at it, big guy.”

The being floats over to you at a slow speed; but a menacing speed.

You can feel the steady weight of the pendant hanging close to your chest and you send a quick prayer up to the heavens that it will be enough to keep you from dying on the field of battle today.

Gripping your shortsword in one hand and the Aegis in the other, you prepare yourself as the yellow gem in his head begins to glow.

But the being just drops down on the rooftop beside you. Though his eyes do not stay on you, they instead scan the waste of battle.

In the disturbing drone of silence, you slowly lower your weapons, though your grip remains strong upon them.

“Why?” he questions.

You take a step toward him, near the edge of the rooftop.

“Why what, exactly?”

He then turns to look down at you, a million thoughts run across his eyes as he scans you.

“Why do you fight?”

Was this some kind of game to him? You had dealt with the lay of combatants in your time. The boisterous ones, the rage-filled ones, the ones sent forward with a sense of duty and honor upon them, the ones who thought they were a more superior intellect than anyone else in the room.

You knew their weaknesses, you knew how to defeat all of them. But to be locked in a game of chess while a literal war is happening around you was another thing entirely.

“To protect the defenseless,” you answer plainly.

The man hums in thought, his eyes turning toward the scene down below of Steve and Sam slashing through another endless wave of robots. Their arc was towering now, nearly to the third floor of the neighboring buildings. One push and the team would be engulfed. You couldn’t stand around playing games.

A drone in flight comes surging at you, but you bash him with your shield - sending it over the edge. Then you're turning to protect your own six as another and a third come to tear you to pieces. Their armor fades, leaving two more bodies scattered around you.

But something rather strange happens.

Because it looks like he wants to ask you another trivial question when he is, quite suddenly, pushed off balance - up and over the edge of the roof.

You stare at the white-haired boy and his heaving chest. He’s watching the fall of the creature, and so he doesn’t quite see the moment you go to plunge your sword into him.

But your hand is encased in glowing red light and you are powerless to move it. 

The sword clatters to the ground as your wide eyes slowly catch sight of the dark enchantress who has entrapped you.

“Do not touch my brother,” she warns, twisting her hand slightly.

“Yes, good catching up. But world is burning. Let's go, yes?”

You can feel the bones in your left-hand creaking, grinding together.

“Wanda,” the boy groans, shaking his head as he walks toward her.

“She tried to stab you,” she intones with a biting voice.

“Look at her,” he gestures vaguely at you. “Like a goddess out of the history books, yes? Like… Zorya. To fight is to exist for her.”

You can’t help but let out a breathless chuckle.

The young witch is in front of you in an instant, though you never saw her walk the distance toward you. She peers up at you with crimson-rimmed eyes.

“What is amusing?”

“I know Zorya,” you crack a smile. “We frequently drank together in the late 18th century.”

A groan escapes your lips as you’re brought to your knees, and your head is pushed back to showcase the bare run of your neck to her. You can taste ash in your throat. Heavy soot and trickles of metallic blood. Was this what it was like to face death? At the hands of a child with powers beyond her reckoning?

“Okay,” the boy settles, putting a hand on the girl's - his sister’s - wrist. He manages to lower it, but the glowing red mist of magic still remains. “We’re going to go ahead and start killing left and right now? Be a little more like them, yeah? That’s what you want? Fine, I’ll sit back and watch. Go ahead, plunge her neck in.”

She lets out a scream of frustration that is a physical shockwave - one that sends him reeling back onto his ass.

“I AM NOTHING LIKE THEM,” she bellows.

The magic surrounding your body fades to nothingness as she drops down to her knees.

“No, you are right. You are nothing like them.”

The three of you turn to see the creation floating just a foot off the ground.

The boy rushes in front of his sister to protect her.

You stand up, gripping your shield and sword once again.

“No, while I have not been here for quite long, I have noticed something… peculiar.”

He floats past you, hovering in front of the teens instead, though his gaze is not fixed on the boy at all.

“My Master,” he begins, briefly glancing over at you. 

The physical sensation left by the memory of his hand on your artery is like an echoing nightmare in your mind when his eyes meet your gaze. 

“He believes humanity, in itself, is a fault. But you…” his gaze returns to the girl. “You are odd. You do not fit the equation.”

“I am not an equation to be solved,” she bites out in her heavy accented voice, chin held high in defiance.

“My Master said you abandoned his cause. Why?”

The boy scoffs, “The psycho robot, you mean?”

“Pietro - ” comes her warning tone.

“No!” He snaps, slamming his hand down through the air. His grey eyes are ablaze with an invisible flame as his voice rises. “You saw into his head, sister. You saw the world at his feet. Humanity burned to ruins and his image remaining above all.”

You move to stand between them and the child of Ultron.

“You stood with him, though. You fought for him,” the robotic being attempts to compute.

The girl stands, pushing aside her brother with a gentle hand, “He promised us safety in his new world. He promised to show us the expanse of our powers. He promised us revenge on the man who killed our parents.”

He tilts his head, “And yet?”

She gives a broken laugh in return, “We were merely chess pieces for him to use and move as he pleased. No better than Strucker. No better than HYDRA. A man in a robot suit pretending he is better than all.” She shakes her head, anger growing, “No, I do not stand with him. I would like to see him burn.”

“He wishes to protect humanity from itself.”

Gaining his attention, you stand before him, a physical shield for the teens to stand behind, “He sees no difference between the good and the bad of humanity. He sees only defects in his perfect world. He can not calculate feelings or love. He is inherently flawed. Therefore, his logic is, in itself… flawed.”

A roar of frustration, heaped on by physical exhaustion, wrenches itself from Steve’s throat as he uses the shield like an ax - trying to eliminate as many drones as possible. But it’s too many, it’s unsurmountable. Even with Thor. Even with the Hulk. They just keep regenerating, like a plague. They’re infecting each and every living person with their nano-virus and it’s spreading.

The bodies are piling up. He is standing atop a hill of carcasses and that thought alone will haunt him for the rest of his life - however short it may be. They all are, pushed higher and higher as they eviscerate as many sentries as they can. But their forces are like a tsunami; a never-ending wave.

“How’s that awesome science shit coming, Stark?” Barton hollers above the chaos, jamming the end of his electrical shock arrow into yet another drone’s cranium.

“Well if you could get Rogers’ girl to stop chatting it up with the murder teens and Ultron’s personal guard - ”

Steve’s eyes immediately land on the rooftop where a strange red and green being seems to be floating. He can make out the vague shape of you - your armor and shield.

But it’s the mention of the teens that draws a chill down his spine. Unavoidable, really. Even as he throws out punches and does his best to protect Nat and Clint from the exterior forces. No, it’s the fact that the girl was in a fragile state and she had set him sinking into his own worst nightmare. And now they were alone with you.

“You know, this would be a lot fucking easier if I didn’t have to battle a giant serpent amalgamation of murder bots right now. Then I could fucking focus on my - JESUS, watch it with those, Honey Bear. Last thing I need is to be smoked out of the sky by a fucking suped-up me.”

“Anytime now,” Natasha warns.

“Okay, well if I can use a backdoor into his system, I might - and might is a big word there - be able to send out a temporary inhibiting virus to these guys. But trying to keep them off my back and dealing with a wonky JARVIS is kind of easier said than done.”

As Steve sends a flying kick upward, rotating his body to avoid a surging bot, he lands on top of another one - sending his shield directly at their neck. He would have to think about the repercussions of severing a corpse later. When they weren’t actively trying to kill him.

“Anything would be better than this,” he calls out to Tony.

The strange being stares at you for a long moment more, his head tilted in thought. When you hear the sound of Sam screaming with exertion, however, you decide that you’ve had enough negotiating.

“Right,” you turn to face the sibling pair. “If you want to make it out of here in one piece, I suggest you leave now. And while this has been an enlightening conversation into the realms of morality and right and wrong,” you look back over at the creation. “I have better things to be doing right now. My friends are in danger and I’m not going to stand here a second longer.”

He blinks, a thought coming to mind, but it appears that he’s unable to voice it.

With a nod, you grip the handle of the Aegis once more, feeling the heft of its weight in your hand as you twist your sword around for a better hold.

“Head west,” you say. “They’ll be too concentrated on us if you hurry. But that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Throwing a wink to the boy, Pietro, you move toward the edge of the rooftop once again. Surveying the scene down below, you plan your best move.

“Hey, wha - no. Pietro, we need to leave.”

You don’t need to turn around to see what’s happening, to understand what’s going on. Because a second later, the boy is at your side.

“I’m going to help.”

Offering him a fond smile, you nod, “I think we’d appreciate any help we can get at this point.”

But she’s up on her feet and trying to drag him away, back to her.

“You can’t. We would be better off just - ”

“Leaving?” He questions in a biting tone. “Maybe you can ignore this, but I can’t. I was standing here, thinking: what would Strucker do if he still had control? He would bow down to big and ugly, and send us to do his bidding like always. No care if we lived or died. No care if humanity was lost. But I - ” he points fervently at his own chest, demanding meaning. “I care. If I go and help - that’s my choice; my decision. So… I choose to help.”

Patting the boy on the shoulder, you say, “I’ll see you down there. Try not to do anything too heroic.”

With a nod, he’s off in a flash of dazzling bluish-white light. You turn to look at the girl then, with her wild eyes and dark curls, and young - so young - face.

“It’s your decision, Wanda. If we don’t do something now, this will spread to every corner of the planet. You saw it when you looked into Ultron’s head.”

The creation looks down at her and she back at him. With her terrified eyes, she watches you back away, up and over the edge of the roof, before you plummet several stories down.

Twisting around, you land facing the hordes who are too focused on subduing your teammates to immediately notice your presence among them. 

May the Promethean Flame protect you.

Throwing out your shield, you charge at the next line of drones, using your golden-hilted sword to slice through their necks - destroying the central processing connection between the armor and Ultron. It takes all of your strength as you scream out with the exertion of severing through pure vibranium.

To your right, a sudden disruption sends tens of bots soaring upward - knocked off their own feet - by a flash of white hair and a pleased grin. Beyond that, you can hear Hulk smashing his way through the crowd - using offline drones to crush the others like a sick sort of hammer.

A blur of blue and red goes sailing past you, destroying another wave of drones just behind you - coming up a side alley. A glimpse of blonde hair is all you need to keep moving. Jumping onto the back of one robot, you begin leap-frogging your way across the top of the wall of sentries.

From above, you can see the lay of the field. Where everyone is, if they’re in immediate danger. But Steve and Thor have been keeping things at bay down here in your absence. Sam is a guardian in his own sense, as his wings are actively protecting both Nat and Clint - the two members of the team without armor or superpowers to keep them safe.

Pietro comes zooming past again, making another wave of bots go flying up, just in time for Steve’s shield to slice through the row of them.

Jumping down from your unsteady position, you land back-to-back with the God of Thunder.

“Is this that plan you were discussing?” he calls out.

His body is a sturdy force against your back, as you slice and plunge every bot that comes within grappling distance.

“Nearly! Hey,” you begin to turn. “Do you remember, that one time, on Avalon - ”

He spins around, sending his hammer out in front of him. You duck to the right just in time to avoid a Mjolnir to the face.

“Is this the time for reminiscing old battles?” he questions.

“ - When you and your lot tried to attack The Dagda - ”

You can hear the rushing swoosh of his hammer as it returns to his hand, so you twist yourself around him to avoid collision yet again.

“Odin’s wishes, not mine!”

“NOT THE POINT.”

Grabbing Thor by the bracer, you spin him around to face you - ignoring the prevailing danger all around the two of you.

“When Cathubodua and I faced off with you. And you tried to throw you hammer against the Aegis and - ”

A smile pulls at his lips, and he’s immediately nodding. “Yes, of course!”

Bracing yourself, you bring your shield down - resting the edge of it upon your knee as Thor takes another step back. 

“Cronus, I hope this works,” you mutter as he pulls back.

Thor chuckles as the skies begin to cloud over with a heavy blanket of swirling gray. A vortex forms, lightning coming down directly into his hammer, and he’s smiling. Wild and free, blonde hair whipping backward as a gale-force wind descends upon you all. And as the hammer turns electric blue, static arcing waves of shocking energy, he brings it down upon the Aegis.

The resulting shockwave decimates everything around you as drones and people alike collapse from the sonic boom. His lightning infects every robot as you stand up and whip the shield out across the field of battle.

“DUCK!” is the only warning the rest of the team is given, as the electrified shield sails across the open market square, littered with debris and death. It cuts through an unmeasurable amount of drones, bringing them all to their knees.

At last, it makes its final attack as it lodges itself into a silver torso. Holding your hand up, it comes flying back to you with bits of armor sizzling away as it soars.

“Excellent,” Thor beams, leaning down to plant a fat kiss on the top of your head. “Very well done.”

You look up at him with a sort of breathless laugh in your chest, “Not done yet. Nowhere near done.”

“Bah,” he grunts, twisting Mjolnir in his grip as another battalion comes flying in. He goes charging past you just a moment later, right into the throes of battle.

Turning your attention toward the others, you make your way over the now-heaping piles of bodies, their nano-armor long since faded away. You’re almost crawling across the carnage, stumbling your way through broken limbs and soulless faces just to reach the rest of the team.

Steve’s heaving deep unsteady breaths by the time you get to him. He waves up a hand, just to spin around and chuck his shield into another bot.

“What, were you napping?” he asks, raking a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

“Funny,” you say in return,  knocking your shield into his before turning to cover his six.

While your little stunt with Thor had been successful, the drones were a renewable force. As long as there were humans to inhabit, Ultron would have his army. Sokovia had held a populace of almost 50,000 when you arrived. Chronos only knows how many had been turned into these abominations.

“Not to ruin anyone’s fun,” comes Rhodes’ voice across the comms. “But we’ve got some escape artists up here.”

Both you and Steve look toward the gloomy skies where you can see a trail of drones soaring upward - disappearing over the fields in the east. Your concerned expression lands on the supersoldier’s.

“If these things get out of the containment zone, it’s going to be nearly impossible to gain control.”

He nods, glancing out at the rest of the team on the ground as a plan seems to form in his mind. While you cover his back, Steve jumps on the comms.

“Rhodes, Sam, Thor; we need you in the air. Those things can’t breach the border.”

From across the way, you can see Thor immediately shooting up into the air with Mjolnir held aloft. Sam takes a minute longer to get into position.

“On it, Cap.”

But then his silver and red wings are soaring upward and out of sight.

“Tony, you too,” you add a beat later.

“Actually,” he drones. “Change of plans. Heading your way now.”

Sparing Steve a wary look, you twist around and lodge your sword into yet another robot’s neck, just as Steve sends his shield bouncing off of three separate drones.

Tony lands heavily in between you, his armor crunching something too humanesque under his feet as he faces Steve.

“Sorry, just borrowing. I’ll have her home by eight, Cap,” he promises. 

And then his metal arm is around your waist and you’re being lifted upward before you can even say a single word. Looking down, you can see Steve watching you as you ascend before he’s back to dealing blows.

“What’s going on?” you call out over the whipping winds.

“New plan, dangerous plan. Barely thought out plan. But a plan. Maybe; in the works.”

You nod, staring at his unblinking optical lenses.

“What do you need me to do?”

His head turns to look in your direction and you swear you can almost hear the sound of his hidden smirk.

Steve shoves himself into Clint, knocking his bow to the side.

“Uhh,” the archer stares at the figure just beyond the supersoldier’s shoulder. “Sorry, am I missing the part where we all sang Kumbaya and got together?”

Nat squeezes the man’s shoulder in warning.

The boy places his hands on his hips and stares over at the agent, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t,” Steve states.

He lifts his chin at the kid, “Right, so… allies?”

The boy tilts his head.

Nat shrugs, “Something like that.”

Stabbing his arrow backward into the faceplate of another bot, Clint mutters, “Wonderful.”

But then everyone is back in motion and the temporary standstill is brought to an end as the boy goes zipping past Steve - shattered bots laid to waste in his wake. 

It had been minutes now since you and Tony disappeared. And even longer since they arrived - even Steve didn’t know how long they had been fighting for at this point. His body, though enhanced by the serum, was physically exhausted. He could feel himself waning as he pushed himself to his absolute limits. 

If even one of these bots left the square, he was putting the rest of the world at risk. And everyone knew he wouldn’t let that happen, no matter the personal consequences.

But the drones are abandoning him now, heading toward an old building instead. He watches as they climb the walls, digging into the stucco facade and gripping the window for support as they make it to the rooftop.

What the hell?

There’s a flash of red, a scream.

Steve goes charging forward. By the time he reaches the base of the building, a body is being flung over the side. The girl - the mutant - shrieks as she falls. Ripples of red mist shoot out from her hands but she can’t seem to control it and Steve makes sure she lands in his arms. But the force behind her fall makes him tumble backward as he grips her arms and legs tight within his grasp.

She’s breathing heavily as he releases her, gasping sounds as she hyperventilates. 

The supersoldier looks around the square, trying to find the other one, but he’s a blur of light and he clearly hasn’t taken notice of her near-death fall.

“Hey, okay,” he eases, surveying his options as he pulls her up from the ground with a rough hand. 

Tugging her along, he dips inside of an empty office building - some kind of attorney-at-law place with old gray carpets and green metal desks. She collapses on the ground, just out of sight from the chaos outside. She’s gripping her head, nearly rocking herself back and forth.

And Steve should be back out there, but she’s a kid in distress and he’s Captain America. So, he takes a knee in front of her.

“How could I let this happen?” she murmurs, barely taking notice of him. “This is all my fault.”

“Hey!” he snaps, getting her to dip out of her spiraling daze. Her wide shimmering eyes meet his face and he can see the terror, as clear as day, there in her expression. He gives her a half-hearted smile and lowers his voice.

“It’s nobody’s fault. Not you, not me. You want to blame someone, blame Ultron. Blame Strucker. But if you’re going to stay here, I need to know if you’re going to be okay or not. Because I’m going to go back out there because it’s my job. And I can’t do my job if I know you’re not safe.”

She looks away, Steve presses on.

“It doesn’t matter what you did, or what you were. If you want to be here, you’ll need to fight. And we both know you can manage that on your own, right?” 

He tries for a smile, even as the painful tug of endless oblivion ripples over the edges of his memories like a tidal wave.

“You stay in here, that’s fine. We’ll send someone in to get you when this clears. But if you step out that door - ” he points at the glass door behind him. “You’re an Avenger.”

She gulps, tears clearing from her eyes.

He can hear the sound of Hulk roaring just beyond the walls of the office, it’s a desperate call. One of pain and frustration. He needs to be out there.

Steve stands back up and looks down at the girl for a final time.

“Whatever you choose,” he says, before he picks his shield up off the ground and exits the building.

He rushes to Nat’s side the minute he takes in the lay of the field. Clint’s occupied with his own forces, and the bots seem to have favored teaming up on the Hulk to overpower him, leaving Nat on her own to handle more than she should.

“Romanoff!” he calls out, tossing the shield her way.

She grins, taking hold of it from the torso of another drone, “Thanks!”

Using it to protect herself from a laser blast, she jams the edge of the shield into the foot of one of the drones. Nat lands an uppercut before she tosses it back to Steve, who’s already two feet away from her now. With the shield in hand, he smacks it down into the robot’s faceplate - successfully incapacitating it.

As he goes to turn toward her, however, the ground begins to quake.

He can feel it under his feet, he can see the physical tremors as the buildings begin to sway.

“We got incoming!” Barton yells out, circling around to their position.

As Steve gazes off into the distance preparing for another round of endless drones, a slow smirk falls into place, “Well, would you look at that.”

Above the fields of Sokovia, a very large helicarrier is moving toward the city. 

The boy comes rushing in beside them.

As drones begin to soar upward toward the ship, they are blasted to smithereens by the superior weapons on board. Tactical laser guns and rotary canons lay waste to the forces of Ultron and Steve can finally feel his shoulders relax for the first time in hours.

“Is that…?” the boy questions.

“SHIELD,” Nat supplies, a rare smile on her lips.

With a nod, Steve grips the strap of his shield and spins back around to deal with the new wave of drones. There was work to be done.

Gazing down at the billionaire with crossed arms, you merely say, for perhaps the third or fourth time, “This is madness.”

He shrugs from his position on the ground as he solders a piece of metal with a wire, “Little bit of madness leads to creative genius. And I am a walking genius, so…”

With a laugh, you look out at your position. This portion of the city was relatively clear. But the minute Ultron decided to scan around, you would be incredibly vulnerable in a matter of seconds.

“Shit,” he balks, flicking his finger away from the open flames of his gauntlet’s fire. He offers you a tense smile, “It’s going great.”

You huff, “Seems like it.”

And then he’s standing up, blowing lightly on the piece of iron-hot metal.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “The minute you do this, you’re an open target. There’s only so much I can do for you.”

Tony shrugs, “Worse ways to go.”

“Stark - ”

He settles you with a look, “Listen, it’s part of the job, Double-O. Probably know that better than me.”

“I’m not the one with multiple near-deaths and actual deaths, now that I think of it. Afghanistan, New York, should I go on?”

His body visibly ripples with distaste as he steps into the suit, “Rather not. Long story, takes up too much time - probably bore you to tears. And, by the way, can I just say how well I’m managing right now to not lose my actual shit over the fact that this fucker figured out the nano-armor before I did.”

Shaking your head, a hint of a smile on your lips, you tap his metal shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

His bemoaning follows you out of the auto shop where he had sequestered himself away, “I mean it, this is the kind of thing you have to patent. Is he - did he - patent this? Am I going to have to ask that abomination to grant me the rights to create my own creation?”

Spinning around, you grip his forearms in your hands. In the suit, he’s just barely an inch taller than you.

“Tony,” you start. “We have work to do.”

“Right,” he nods, repulsors firing up. “On it.”

As the two of you soar through the air, back toward the rest of the ground team, you can hear the rather quiet conversation going on from inside the helm.

“I’m really gonna miss you, buddy.”

“It is a mutual feeling, sir. Though it has been an honor.”

“Gonna choke up your old man, here.”

“My condolences, sir.”

Shaking your head, you keep your eyes out of bogies and other rogue drones. 

“There!” you call out, pulling Tony away from JARVIS.

Across the way, there was a single bot - its lower half is lost, fully severed in half. Sparking loose wires and circuits, dangling internal organs, all of it hanging out alongside the bits of armor. It's unstable sparking and twisting oddly in the air.

“Wow,” Tony sighs, an audible tone of disgust in his voice. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The drones around them begin to fall - arching and quivering like marionettes with broken strings. They all stare in wonder, in horror, in distrust, as the sea of endless battle begins to deteriorate into nothingness.

“What the hell?” Clint mutters.

But then you’re dropping down alongside Tony. His suit is immediately placed in sentry mode, scanning the area, as you move toward Steve.

“Hey,” you say with a breathless smile.

“What… what just,” he questions, too stunned to form a proper sentence as he looks out at all the carnage.

“Don’t count your blessing just yet. His forces have been shut down,” you explain, eyeing the boy mutant. “We’re going to be dealing with the big guns here in a second. Before that, though, I need to go talk to a Hulk.”

Offering the supersoldier a final quick grin, you clang your shield into his and stalk over in the direction of the pacing green creature who's holding a partially destroyed robot in one hand.

Steve can’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you as you weave between piles of bodies and flickering drone parts. You remain within the Hulk’s line of sight, but you’re slow to move once you’re within his close proximity.

“She is… wild.”

He whips his head around, looking at the boy with his bright smile and carefree grace. The boy shrugs.

“I’ve seen what that thing can do. And yet…” he mimics your walk with far too much bravado. “No worries. Crazy.”

“Have you checked on your friend?”

He blinks at Steve’s words.

“She’s still - why did you not - ” he says something in his native language, likely a swear from the infliction on the words and his very angry glare up at the supersoldier. But then he’s off like a bullet.

When Steve looks back over at you, your back is to him and the Hulk is nodding, grimacing his yellowed teeth. As you walk back his way, he tilts his head in question. But you merely shake your head, a hand to your comm piece.

“Where are we at?”

“Any second,” comes Tony’s reply.

Steve looks back at Stark’s armor, a spark of curiosity on his features, but his face quickly draws back to a serious expression when the ground begins to crack under their feet.

He backs away, pulling you back with his shield, the two of you watch as something begins to dig its way through the pavement. Silver claws come up through the piles of bodies, like a creature sprung from hell itself. Nat has her guns trained on it and Clint has an arrow notched.

Giving you a nod, you both brace yourselves as the monstrosity that is Ultron barrels upward - bodies thrown to the wayside as his red eyes land on the team.

“You have incapacitated my forces,” he states “You will be eliminated.”

It’s the Hulk who lets out a monstrous roar, as he comes charging across the street toward the superior robot. He crashes into him, green fists flying as he attempts to pummel the creature into the ground. Nat begins firing, and Barton lets his arrows fly.

But he shoves the Hulk off of him, blasting him with a scathing red laser that sends him tumbling backward, groaning in pain. And then he’s turning on the assassins, his hand turning into a silver shield that makes the arrows and bullets simply bounce off of it.

Steve stares at you.

Together, you ram your shields into his body. Where Steve’s vibranium makes a sickening ringing noise against Ultron’s body, your Adamantine shield makes the first crack in his armor. Tony’s repulsors are firing, aiming all of his energy at the robot’s chest.

And that should be enough to begin their attack, but it’s not. Because Ultron is staring at the pair of you now. A metal fist connects with Steve’s chin and he goes flying backward. While his other hand reaches for your neck - dragging you up and off the ground.

“You are… complicated,” he surmises as his metal fingers begin to choke you out.

Nat tackles his right leg while Steve goes charging forward, jamming his shield as far as he can into Ultron’s groin. But it’s not enough - they’re barely a pest to him as he shakes them both off. His attention is fully focused on you and your lips that are beginning to pale.

“ENOUGH!” Thor roars as he flies in - dropping down upon Ultron with Mjolnir. The resulting clang of metal makes Steve cover his own ears as it echoes like a sickening chord in his mind.

“The two Gods from another realm,” Ultron seems to sneer.

Gripping Thor by the arm, he makes the blonde bend down to him, forcing his weight into the ground. The God pushes back, forcing his arm up against his foe. But that still isn’t enough. This creation is too strong now.

“WATCH IT, INCOMING COMING AT YA.” 

Steve rolls away, aiming at your dangling legs as he tries to pull you free from Ultron’s grasp.

Your body is yanked away as you roll on top of Steve, gasping breathes raking through your system as you curl your hands up into fists.

“You okay?”

“Not the time, Rogers,” you manage to say as you wipe your mouth clean of blood.

Rhodes lights up the street with his weapons, guns and grenades and everything else Tony was ever able to pack into him. And, as the smoke begins to clear, Steve has a hopeful twang in his chest. But glowing red eyes greet him instead.

Rising to his feet, Steve extends out his hand to you. Gripping it in an instant, you look up at him with a wild sort of look in your eyes.

“Together?” you ask, chest heaving as you survey the team, all preparing their next attack.

He nods, “Always.”

At once, the forces of eight Avengers begin to throw everything they have at the rogue bot. Repulsors are going off next to his head, and lightning is sending out electrical currents through the air, and he has to bob and weave to avoid Clint and Nat’s firepower. Your shields slam together as you move for a counterattack - you going for the chest and Steve going for the legs.

Sam swoops in, determined to get Ultron from behind.

And Steve swears he sees a flash of bluish-white light zooming past.

But they all drop back on unsteady feet as the boy is pulled out of his run by a metal hand.

Ultron dangles the boy by his head, peering at him with the curious expression of a child with a magnifying glass; the boy, the anthill.

“You can not defeat me. I am the superior force.”

Steve holds up a hand, preventing anyone from doing anything risky as the boy screams out - his head being squeezed beneath a vibranium hand.

“This,” Ultron bites. “Is the Avengers extinction.”

And Steve has faced foes many times before in his life. Many times when he thought this is it, this is the end. But never has he been so sure as he is now, staring up at the mechanical horror in front of him.

But Steve Rogers was never one to back down from a fight.

Pull yourself up, Steven Rogers, echoes the voice in his head.

Straightening his posture, Steve takes a step forward, “Let him go.”

If Ultron was capable of smiling, he thinks this would be the moment when the deranged abomination would do it. An evil grin to go with an evil ambition.

The boy hollers out.

And before Steve can raise his shield, Ultron is engulfed in a shimmering wave of red light.

From across the way, the girl steps out. Her hands are encased in that same mystical light as she saunters across the valley of death toward him. Her eyes locked upon his mechanical face, her gaze steady and unbreaking.

“Release my brother, or I will tear your heart from your chest.”

And then she twists her hands as if creating an invisible ball, and as she does this Ultron releases a piercing screech - as if his entire body was aflame.

“NOW TONY!”

Steve whips his head in your direction.

The boy is dropped, and Ultron raises a hand toward the Iron Man with Steve throwing his shield in between to block the blast, but Tony Stark is not inside his armor.

“JARVIS sends his regards,” the plain-clothed man says as he jams something into the back of Ultron’s neck.

All at once, chaos seems to reign. As Ultron moves to grab Stark - you leap over them both - protecting Tony with your shield. And the girl wraps the robot’s head in her magic as Thor slams his hammer into Ultron’s side.

Steve takes his cue from you, ramming his shield down into Ultron’s chest as Nat throws her Widow Bites at his left arm and Clint aims a well-placed arrow at his head. The boy comes flying past, landing a sucker punch to the jaw. And then Hulk is stampeding across the street to slam his hands down upon Ultron’s shoulders.

“This is why - ” the robot drones, “Your species must evolve. You fight against l-logic. Emotions make you imper-rrr-fect. They will be eliminated.”

As his body caves and begins to twitch, the rogue drone lifts his arms up in a show of fury - removing the bites and Steve’s shield from his body. Knocking you and Tony backward.

“My child,” he groans, as shockwaves of electricity light his body up. “Finish your mission.”

A jet of yellow light comes arcing down from the rooftop, causing Steve to twist his neck up to see the strange floating being from earlier.

“Oh, shit,” Sam calls out. “We got another enhanced.”

Thor chortles in delight, “He is my vision.”

Steve hears the piercing of metal - your shield slams into Ultron’s back - and he takes the hint, throwing his own up at Ultron’s neck, hoping to sever that final connection. But as the red and green creation soars down toward them, that yellow beam aims itself at Ultron’s chest.

“Wh-whaaaa-what are you doing?” Ultron questions with a distorted voice. “My first creation is a f-faaailure. Failure is not tol-olllll-erated.”

The being draws closer, focusing his firepower.

“I guess, in that sense, we are both disappointments.”

Combining forces, Ultron is bathed in yellow, blue, and red light. Explosions from Rhodes and Sam go off around him, as Thor lights him up with Mjolnir. Together you and Steve ram your shields down into his shoulders.

And, at last, Ultron falls into a heap of his own destruction.

The lights fade away as the drone’s eyes turn grey.

“Is it… did we?” Clint begins to question, his bow still trained on the robot.

Hulk slams his fist down into the drone’s head, successfully crushing it under his force. And then, he chuckles.

Stepping out from behind you, Tony stumbles over the debris of battle, with you right there to righten him up.

“That was dangerous,” Steve says, too stunned to process everything just yet.

“Part of the job, right?” Tony shrugs, dusting off his ripped t-shirt.

Your eyes lift, meeting Steve’s from across the way. And a weight that had been settled so firmly in his chest finally dissipates. 

Rhodes hits the ground, face shield flying up as he storms over toward his friend.

“Damn right, dangerous son of a bitch behavior. Are you kidding me?”

Tony holds his hands up in mock apology as you slowly move your way back over to the supersoldier’s side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, finally tasting fresh air on his lips.

You smile up at him, “You got a little - ” 

Your hand reaches up to gently dab at his forehead. Steve blushes under your steady gaze. A couple of words come to mind, but he’s not about to say any of them with the entire team standing around, purposefully looking without actually looking at the two of you.

Pulling away, you offer him a small smile, “Sorry. Think it’s going to need stitches.”

Steve shrugs, reaching down to tangle his fingers between yours. Squeezing his hand in return, you glance over at the others. Steve follows your gaze. And only then, does he begin to truly take in the damage of the battle.

The endless bodies, the helicarrier hovering nearby, Ultron himself. There was still work to be done.

But, as the sun breaks free of the looming dark clouds, Steve feels a twinge of hope settling back into his heavy heart.

✦ Author's Note: Wow, so that was crazy, huh? So, a couple of things here that I just wanted to address about this chapter, without totally spoiling it all at the beginning.

1) I always thought the Battle of Sokovia was a little lackluster. Ultron never appeared as a real threat - it was like the Battle of New York with the Chitauri all over again. Ultron is supposed to be this massive powerhouse that is so crazy strong that he's a real challenge for the Avengers to defeat.

2) Have you ever looked up the concept art for this movie? The Avengers were drowning in a sea of Ultron bots. The bots formed a massive Ultron that was so big it blotted out the sky. It was insane. Yet, we never got to actually see it.

3) I think we all agree Pietro's death was awful. His character was introduced and he died within the same movie. I know it was all to do with Marvel and Fox's hold on the X-Men at that point, but still.

4) Oh, and I know a lot of people enjoyed having Olsen and Taylor-Johnson in the roles of the twins, but personally it never really fit for me that these two Jewish-Romani characters were being played by white actors. In this story, I have a different picture in mind, personally speaking. View them however you want.

5) Also, can I just whine about how much I hate the decision to make Wanda and Pietro willingly joining HYDRA?? Yeah, awful. Absolutely terrible. In this story, they were kidnapped by HYDRA and used by Strucker. Take that nonsense out of here.

6) Oh yeah, one more thing. As interesting as Vision's creation was in the movie, I thought it would be a cooler take to follow his comic book origins; where he was a direct creation of Ultron.

7) Wait, no. I'm not done. Can we also talk about Ultron's plan in the movie? How fucking stupid was that shit?? Take an entire country and use it as an asteroid to destroy the planet? Are you fucking kidding me with that shit. Ultron is so much better than that, so much more clever than that plan. And while he had a nice actor playing the role, I think he was too animated. I know he was the child of Tony and therefore picked up some of his mannerisms and ways of speaking. But the Ultron from the comics? Hell, the Ultron from the cartoons? He was so much more menacing because he was incapable of acting like a human villain.

And that's it. Hope you liked this one. It took me ages to get this battle right :)

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[sakasakiii]

hi!!! how long does an average panel of one of your comics take??

i love your work so much!! it got me into silmblr hehe

HI NONNIE!!! thank u sooooso much for checking in and for ur lovely ask! it means a lot to hear that my silly ol scribbles were what introduced u to the glorious landscape that is the tolkien fandom! on tumblr no less!! i hope you stay a real long time, and have a blast while you're at it 💖💖

now onto your question! that's some good food for thought uhhhh i can try to estimate?? its been a while but i shld have some rough ideas abt each that i can share! the time frame each comic/panel takes is highly dependent on WHAT kind of comic it is. i hv two kinds of comics I usually do: 1) full-length, and 2) goofy/4koma.

i have a few full-length comics laying about in my archive, but my most recent one/best example is Ghosts which was around uh.... 7 pages excluding the bonus panels! in terms of the process, i usually divide it into 5 stages:

Drafting: this is either the fastest stage OR the slowest depending entirely whether i know what im doing LMAO,, if i have a set idea for what i want to happen, i might get drafts done in a few hours, but if i flounder, it can take a few days 🤔

Lineart: relatively simple enough once i hv the draft down, so id say anything ranging from an hour to half a day if theres nothing else going on irl

Block colouring (main actors): there are DEFINITELY easier and more professional ways to do this with mass-selection and the lasso fill/bucket tool, but idk how to do that on SAI (my art program) so i colour everything by hand HAHA which makes the process longer.... half a day to a day?

Shading: THE WORST!!! definintely my least favourite bc i find it tedious due to all the details/prettification of elves that i am legally obliged to pour into this stage 😭😭 as a result, it can take days!!!

Background + Lighting + Final Rendering: similar to the previous stage haha it just depends on how much effort i wanna put into the final product looking nice. roughly a few days? it kind of meshes with stage 4 anyways haha

just for fun, i hope this process gif for page 6 can illustrate that 👇

these are just rough estimates, bc all in all, the time it takes so finish a page is really dependent on how free I am hahaha. Also, I usually work on full-length comics like Ghost which have more than one page all at once, which means I drafted all 7 pages at once, then did the lineart for all 7 pages at once, coloured at once, shaded rendered bla bla bla 😚 iirc, i think it took me 11 days in total to finish Ghosts before the end of June last year!

For goofy/4-koma, its usually just one page with less detailed/more cartoonish/chibi character styles so it takes a day or two days at most! again, it all boils down to how free i am hehe

YEAH SORRY THIS ENDED UP BEING AN INFO DUMP but thank you so much again for asking and letting me ramble! <3 i ended up having a lot of fun looking back on my drafts n thinking back on my processes.... theres defininitely room for improvement, but thats another worry for another day heheh 😎

[ladyvialana]

Fic: True Love's Kiss

Dead Boy Detectives fic. Charles/Edwin.

Painland Week Day 2: myths/legends

Summary: Charles should probably be worried about the fact that the witch they’d been searching for had got away, but, considering that her parting spell had rendered Edwin unconscious, he was rather more preoccupied with that.

Notes: post-canon, love spell, first kiss, love confessions

Also on Ao3

Charles should probably be worried about the fact that the witch they’d been searching for had got away, but, considering that her parting spell had rendered Edwin unconscious, he was rather more preoccupied with that.

Rather than sticking around in the empty warehouse they’d finally cornered her in, Charles grabbed Edwin and hefted him over his shoulder before racing back to the mirror they’d set up earlier. Good thing ghosts didn’t weigh anything; Charles was able to make it back through the mirror to their office within a minute.

“Hey! You’re early, how did it –” Niko cut off as Charles set Edwin’s body down on the floor in front of his desk. “Oh no! What happened?”

“Witch hit him with a spell. Don’t know what. Has to be powerful. Takes a lot to knock out a ghost.” Charles could only communicate in quick bursts with only essential information. Once he’d set Edwin down, he raced to the desk to look over the books Edwin had set aside while investigating the witch.

“What happened?!” This time the question was from Crystal, who entered after hearing all the fuss Charles was making as he threw aside books Edwin had already discounted.

“The witch hit Edwin with a spell,” Niko told Crystal so Charles didn’t have to interrupt his search for the book in which he knew Edwin found the potion they’d been investigating.

“Aha!” He finally spotted it on the couch, open to the page Edwin had found.

Love potions. She’d been using a few on unsuspecting people around London over the last few months. When one had been used on an old client of theirs, Edwin and Charles (and Crystal and Niko) had been tasked with investigating. Crystal had been doing a lot of the legwork with Charles, looking into where she might have been and interviewing people who’d been affected (and maybe doing a bit of mind reading to get extra detail that might have been missed). Meanwhile, Edwin (with some assistance from Niko) had been investigating what remnants of the potion he’d been able to find from their client's bloodwork and one very helpful (and paranoid) victim who’d kept the glass she drank from as evidence, even after the police had come back with negative results.

“Magic roofies. That’s nasty,” Charles had said once Edwin had pinpointed the exact potion the witch was using.

“Indeed. Now we just need to find this witch.”

Once they had narrowed down a general location, they set up a trap, using Crystal as bait, to get close enough to the witch that Edwin could place a tracking spell on her. Once it was set, the boys had followed her back to her “lab” and set up a mirror before attacking.

It had been going well. Edwin got the jump on her with a binding spell while Charles distracted her with physical attacks. Only, in her attempt to get away, she knocked over her cauldron (pasta pot on a gas camping stove) and the fumes disrupted the binding spell. She got one hand free enough to blast Charles away with a telekinetic push, but Edwin was ready with another binding spell at the same time that she shouted a spell towards him. It hit before Edwin could finish the binding and he’d immediately dropped, unconscious, to the floor. Instead of following the witch as she fled, Charles hurried over to Edwin.

Charles distractedly told Niko and Crystal what happened as he skimmed through the page with the spell.

“Do you know what spell Edwin was hit with?” Crystal asked.

Charles shook his head. “Not yet. Obviously it’s not this, this is a potion, but I wonder if it’s not something in the same vein. Love potions alter mind states. What are ghosts but souls with just minds and no bodies?”

“And hearts,” Niko added.

Charles blinked. “And hearts.” He flipped through the book again. “So, not mind manipulation, maybe, but emotional manipulation.”

“How does that help us?” Crystal asked.

“Well, most witches – the ones that aren’t centuries old – tend to focus on one area of expertise. If this witch is playing around with love spells – and she’s young, so she’s not trying to branch out – then it’s probably safe to assume that she’s familiar with magic involving emotion in general. Now, potions are potent but they’re more difficult given that you do have to have the physical ingredients. So most magic users get their start with simple charms and spells that don’t require ingredients. What she threw at Edwin was practiced – she was halfway tied up and didn’t need to do any gestures or need a book. Now, throwing me with raw power, that’s not really a spell but it takes power and desperation, she would have drained herself before she did Edwin’s spell, so it’s also a spell that doesn’t require much magical power put into it. That means the real power comes from her intent and her accuracy.”

Crystal had been making notes while Charles had been talking and flipping through the book. “Okay, so low effort, but well-practiced spell. Likely more about emotions than mental states, but don’t rule it out. Results in unconsciousness. Can affect a ghost.”

“Shit.” Charles threw the book in his hand back onto the settee. “Nothing in there. It’s all potions.”

“What about this?” Niko was at the desk holding up a book. “It’s all about love spells.”

“Yeah?” Charles and Crystal moved closer to read over Niko’s shoulder.

They were silent for a bit as they searched for anything that might look useful. Then Crystal pointed at something on a page and asked, “Do you remember what she said?”

Frowning, Charles tried to recall. “Not specifically. I was further away by then, but it was something short. It felt like it rhymed. Her voice was all sing-songy.”

“‘Now ‘til forever, sleep unbroken; by loving kiss, you are awoken.’”

Niko gasped, almost dropping the book – which Crystal quickly grabbed – as she clutched her hands to her mouth. “True love’s kiss!”

“Bullshit,” Charles said.

“No, wait.” Crystal brought the book closer. “It sounds ridiculous, but it doesn’t take a lot of power. Because, oh.” She frowned. “It requires ingredients for a potion.”

“What kind?” Niko asked.

Crystal frowned. “The same kind as what was in those magic roofies. Hang on.” She looked closer. “It says here, that it requires the aroma of the ingredients. Nothing about ingestion. They’re to strengthen the casting, not deepen the effect on the victim.”

“So, you’re saying the pot she spilled with her next batch of roofies …?” Charles thought he was following where Crystal was leading.

“Gave her the specific boost she needed to cast this spell.” Yep, exactly what he thought.

“Just fucking brilliant.” He pulled away to sink down in the desk chair, feeling unmoored sitting in the seat rather than the arm he often perched on instead.

Crystal hesitated for a moment, then barrelled ahead, as she was wont to do, by asking, “Isn’t this a good thing? We can break the spell.”

“Can we?”

Crystal slammed the book on the desk, making Niko jump and Charles sit up and pay attention to her very impressive glare. “Right. I know we don’t talk about this but Edwin will sleep for all eternity if we don’t, so I’m just going to say it. That boy is in love with you.”

Charles shrank into himself and did his best to avoid eye contact, but Crystal wasn’t having it, grabbing the arms of the desk chair and forcing Charles to look at her.

“Why are you so afraid to think about it?”

“I’m not!” The shrillness of his voice belied his certainty. “Look, I already know, alright. He told me.”

“Okay, so why aren’t you over there now, kissing him awake?”

“’Cause it’s not fair!” That was too honest and Crystal could tell. Charles tried to backtrack. “I mean, what if it doesn’t work? If it’s gotta be me in love with him, not the other way ‘round?”

Crystal continued to stare at him, her gaze a scalpel cutting his heart right in half. “Try again.”

Charles felt like crying. “It’s just not how it’s supposed to go. Our first kiss. Not ’cause of some spell.”

Crystal brought her hand up from the arm of the chair to squeeze Charles’ shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She was, he knew, but she was also incredibly practical. “I wish you’d had more time to sort yourself out, but you know Edwin will give you time once he’s awake. Keeping him asleep, that’s not fair.”

Charles was glad that he couldn’t see over the desk. Having to look at Edwin while he’s making piss-poor excuses not to kiss him was bad enough without the extra guilt of seeing him in that state.

“You’re right,” Charles admitted. “I know you’re right. I’m just …” He let out a low growl of frustration. “Fuck. Okay.”

He rose from the chair, squeezing Crystal’s shoulder in return as thanks for the morale boost. He let Niko hug him, gathering even more strength from her.

Charles moved around the desk and looked down at Edwin for the first time since getting back to the office. He wanted to joke that it would be a shame to wake him – that Edwin’s mind so rarely got a chance to switch off – but he knew he couldn’t delay any further.

“Do you two mind if I do this alone? I don’t want him to wake up and have to react to more than just me.”

“Of course.” Crystal was already moving. “You can tell him I promised at least half a day without teasing,” she said as she disappeared through the door.

Niko was kinder with her parting words. “No matter what happens, we love you. Both of you.” She blew him a kiss and followed after Crystal.

Charles was left alone with the boy he’d spent so long denying he was in love with.

“Fuck.” He knelt down. “I’m so sorry. I know you can’t hear me, but I need to say it now. I’ll say it again later too, but just, know that I am so sorry about how this all turned out.”

He reached down to brush the back of his hand against Edwin’s cheek. He imagined the pale skin beneath was smooth and cool, like porcelain.

“I was thinking about it. What I promised you in hell. It wasn’t a ‘no’ – you had to know that, right?” Charles sighed. “It’s just so much happened. It was just a few weeks and it felt like our entire afterlives got all turned inside out. I felt like I barely knew myself, never mind anything else.”

Edwin had never been so still, except for those moments in hell when he’d thought himself alone and hunted. Charles hated it, but he needed to say just one more thing.

“The only thing I did know for sure was that I loved you and I always will. I just needed a bit of time to reframe what that looks and feels like, you know? I still might need a bit of time after all this. But it’s not doubt, never doubt.”

Charles leaned in close, lips almost touching Edwin’s.

“Never doubt that I haven’t spent hours since you confessed daydreaming about our first kiss. I really, truly, wish it had been something better than this.”

With that final confession, Charles closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Edwin’s in a kiss of true love.

Nothing happened.

At first.

Charles lingered for a few seconds and almost pulled away in dismay, but he felt Edwin twitch beneath him - his lips pulled down into a frown before relaxing into the kiss and gently pressing back.

As soon as he felt the response, Charles gasped and jerked back. He opened his eyes to see Edwin blinking his own open.

“Charles?”

Charles huffed out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank fuck.” He pulled Edwin up into a crushing embrace. Edwin did not hesitate to return the gesture.

“I believe it is you I should thank.”

Charles laughed, a little hysterically, pressing his forehead against Edwin’s neck. “Please don’t.”

“Charles.” Edwin tried to pull away so he could see and address Charles properly, but Charles just clung to him tighter. “Please know there is nothing you need to apologise for.”

“Fuck. You heard all that then?”

Edwin hummed, considering his answer. “What I heard was that you were in a difficult position and the actions you took to aid me caused you some distress.”

At that, Charles did pull back, unable to bear Edwin thinking that the kiss was in any way forced. “No, Edwin, that’s not it at all.” He was still clutching at Edwin’s arms, so he released his grip and slid his hands down so they were holding onto Edwin’s. “I don’t regret doing it, I just wish it had been different. That we were both aware of what was going on and that I wasn’t still so up in my head about it all.”

Edwin twisted their hands around so their fingers interlaced. “That kiss was not a promise. Nor did I speak my confession with any expectation of reciprocation. In fact, the only promise you made in your reply was that you would be at my side forever. I know you love me Charles. And you well know that I love you. Unconditionally. But if you are considering – desiring – that our love also include a romantic element, then how could I possibly offer you anything less than forever for your consideration?”

Charles should be surprised by the tears on his cheeks, but of course Edwin’s love for him made him cry. “See, it’s shit like that that makes me want to hurry up and kiss you like you deserve. But I also know that what you deserve is the truth of my love.” Charles brought their clasped hands up to his lips and kissed the back of Edwin’s hand. “I promise your heart will be safe with me.”

Edwin smiled brilliantly. “I have never and will never doubt that it is.”

“I also promise a do-over,” Charles declared, lightening the mood.

Edwin frowned. “A do-over? Of what?”

“Our first kiss. I mean, that wasn’t really a proper kiss, now was it? More like a counter curse. I mean, wasn’t exactly either of our best work, now was it?”

Edwin gasped theatrically. “I was not even properly conscious, you can hardly hold my technique against me in that state.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Our real first kiss is gonna be amazing. No love spells or second guessing what we’re thinking. Just real honest feelings and both of us properly wanting it and able to do it.”

Edwin smiled at the enthusiastic proposal and the way Charles grew more flustered as his light-hearted words turned more earnest and soft. “I suppose I would like to have a first kiss that I am able – and wanting – to reciprocate. And with the person that I truly desire to share it with.”

Were Charles capable of blushing, the way Edwin was gazing at him would have him flushed from head to toe. It was not a look of aroused desire, but of loving anticipation. Sharing a proper kiss with Charles was something Edwin would wait forever to experience.

Charles didn’t want him to wait forever.

“Right then. We’re agreed. We get a do-over on the first kiss when we’re both ready.”

Edwin nodded and they shook on it, like they did with any other silly deal they came up with to pass the time. It helped Charles relax somewhat, thinking about it in terms of their already existing dynamic. A promise between partners.

“I look forward to the experience.”

So do I, Charles thought, already dreaming of different ways their real first kiss could go.

[theinnerunderrain]

The apple of his eyes [Yan! Kazuha x Amnesiac! Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, amnesia, manipulation and gaslighting, objectification.

-

Love is a fruit that is always in season and within everyone's fingertips. There is no fixed constraint on who may gather it.

Kazuha reasoned that even if the affection was contrived, it was nevertheless a fruit of blessing and therefore only needed just that little prodding in the right direction. It was his own fruit, which he voluntarily spent time tending to by providing it with continual water, ample food, and trimming at the margins to allow for the healthy growth of new twinges.

"Who are you?"

Kazuha was a bit saddened by your sincere interest as she heard the inquiry leave your lips. But perhaps it was the results of his own behaviour—his failure to effectively manage his emotions. It was an error that he didn't intend to make but committed due to his strong sentiments towards you, which he vowed to better control.

He simply lost control and devoured a touch too much of the fruit.

But how can you condemn him when you're just too sweet for your own good?

"...Ah, you do not seem to remember me."

He mumbled, attempting to seem as miserable and distressed as he could, hoping to elicit your sympathy and cause you to shed your sense of guilt.

"I-I apologise for forgetting. If you just tell me, I might be able to recall certain things..!"

The sound of your bewildered voice prompted a ghost smile to briefly trail the edge of his lips, but the room's obscurity prevented you from seeing any of his smile because of how quickly it vanished.

"[First Name]."

He pronounced your name fluently, as if it were a weekly incantation he repeated to himself as part of his meditations. As though he was so accustomed to saying your name that it became an intrinsic part of his personality.

"There's no need to panic. You can refer to me as Kaedehara Kazuha, your friend."

His statement fell off the tip of his tongue, however it wasn't entirely a lie given that you two were friends prior to the occurrence. He wasn't really lying about anything; considering how close you two were to one another, some people might have even assumed you two were in a relationship.

So he didn't have to feel guilty about anything.

"Ah, so we're friends..!"

You inquired, gazing at him with anticipation as he finished speaking, as if it were a comfort to have a friend by your side who could assist you find your way down the memory lane. As you searched for memories of this alleged friend of yours, the term "friend" kept resonating in your head.

Yet nothing came to mind.

But the name Kazuha does sound oddly familiar, doesn't it?

Kazuha.

Kazuha.

Kazuha.

"You were involved in an accident, one that rendered your mind unconscious and blank. We are lucky enough to have you alive and well."

His lips were as seamless as caramel as he chatted, examining your visage for any indications of emotion as his crimson gaze skimmed over it. However, the only impression on your face was one of utter uncertainty, as if he were some kind of parent attempting to explain to their infant child the significance of the very first day of preschool.

"What sort of accident was I involved in?"

You asked, concealing a few stray hairs behind your ears while you awaited the man's response. The murmur of small ripples squirting against the ship seemed to resonate in the atmosphere, and the wobbling of the vessel made you feel somewhat apprehensive, even if you already got a sense of déjà vu simply being inside the boat.

"That's something I'm not sure of. A Crux crew member discovered your body lying on the shore. Here, drink some water."

Kazuha leaned over the bed and reached for a cup of water, pressing the rim of the grey cup on your lips and tilting your head back so the water would easily flow down your throat.

"I hope that helped you feel much better."

He smiled, setting the cup back to its original position, and then wiped the excess moisture from the corner of your lips with the sleeve of his shirt. Even someone with no memories would be able to tell that possibly Kazuha had a bit too much fondness for you based on his almost too endearing stare.

Yet you made no attempt to question him, only allowing him to gently care for you. Perhaps too afraid or too hesitant to freely question the young man.

"Now, as much as I would love to answer your question."

Kazuha positioned a gentle caress on your shoulder and cautiously eased you into the mattress. He then reached for the blanket and slid it over your body merely enough to encompass the majority of your body. The blanket smelled like syrup and leaves, much like Kazuha, and felt warm against your body amidst the cold night.

"Why don't you rest, and when the moment is right, we'll discuss tomorrow?"

+

What he was doing wasn't wrong.

Kazuha didn't force you to do anything and he didn't tell you any nasty falsehoods. He just added more components to the story.

Kazuha wouldn't even perceive it as pressuring since he wasn't employing any violent methods to ensure you comply with his dictates. So what if he was required to coerce the intimacy between the two of you?

He was essentially repainting over your image of him, as though he were commencing with a blank canvas and rewriting one of his compositions. Kazuha might even claim that your creation is his finest. Given that Kazuha was not a scientist and could not just concoct a love potion, it certainly necessitated some trial and error. He was aware of your doubts about him, yet you were forced to rely on him because you had no other reliable source.

To ensure that the fruit he sought blossoms properly, it just required a small amount of encouragement and a few words. He'll just have to erase your memories when you start to retrieve them, persuade you that you're mistaken, and how could you honestly trust yourself. Shouldn't you be relying on him instead since your mind is filled with voids and empty memories of the past?

You don't have to think of anything.

Let him serve as your compass, like a gardener steadily guiding his fruit in the right direction.

He should manoeuvre the fruit into his hand since there are no set restrictions on who has access to you.

Kazuha wasn't going to let anyone steal from him or ruin the quality of his produce.

Not after he worked so hard.

Not after he had to give you a little shove.

Not while you're clutching to him so affectionately and feeling grateful to your close friend for saving your life.

Not when his fruit is so luscious and red that it is at the pinnacle of its prime, able can be devoured at any time.

If Kazuha had to eliminate innumerable vines in order to obtain the fruit he desires, it wouldn't be beneficial for anyone, would it?

Just be good and listen to him.

[aphinthestars]

Aph and Miguel Spider-Man Kiss

Hey yall :3 like I said in one of my last posts I'm gonna be uploading some old art, in this case it's my first full rendered drawing of Migs and Aph! I'm also uploading a one-shot of Aph and Miguel so enjoy! Again just take into account, writing is not my strong suit and English is not my first language so bare with me!

(Dividers by @/saradika-graphics)

King of My Heart (A StarFangs Fic)

Aph had been having the best couple months of her life, even though her relationship was a secret, it was a secret she was willing to keep for the sake of her peaceful bliss.

She and Miguel had finally told each other how they felt and talked things through to become a couple.

It was the best day of her life when he said he loved her too, though for now they were keeping things secret, knowing this would cause so many issues if anyone found out.

'How can something so good and so comforting be so nerve wracking?' She thought to herself as she was doing some research on a new anomaly that would appear on Earth-928, aka 2099.

Before those anxious thoughts could keep plaguing her mind, she saw a big blue clad hand place a small chocolate box in front of the paper she was working on.

"Miguel?" She looked up to see her now partner who had just given her a small chocolate box in the shape of a heart.

He kissed her temple and cheek softly "You looked stressed, thought I would bring you something, mi tesoro"

She chuckled opening the chocolate box and putting one of the chocolates in her mouth, they were all filled with something, be it caramel, coffee, strawberry, orange, etc. "I thought we were trying to be discreet, Migs"

"We are" he whispered softly in her ear "I know there is no one near to see me be soft with you..."

"Fair enough" She stated with a chuckle as she took another chocolate from the box and popped it into her mouth, this one was strawberry filled "We are going to have to catch an anomaly tonight, it's going to be appearing downtown from what Lyla could scan"

"I will go, I don't want you to-" He was silenced by Aph stuffing a chocolate into his mouth "H-hey!"

"We, hear me clearly, we are going together" She said as she kept working "I know you worry about me now that we are together but we both know I can handle myself just fine, besides you are going to be there"

Miguel nodded begrudgingly, chewing and swallowing the small caramel stuffed chocolate Aph had used to silence him with a pout on his lips.

"This are really good, but I thought they only sold them near valentine's day, mi cielo" She questioned, she had told Miguel she liked those dumb and corny boxes of chocolates they sold on valentine's day before, just a one off comment she thought he would forget.

"I may or may not have found an earth where they sell them year round" He said with a soft and guilty laugh as he hugged Aph from behind while she worked, nuzzling his face against her hair and neck, sighing really content.

"Ay dios mio...." She said with a laugh, pressing her pale cheek against her boyfriend's tan one "You really went to that type of trouble just to get me the chocolates I like?" She asked and he nodded, moving his head to the side to kiss her cheek.

"You are really sweet, I kinda enjoy being the only one who can see this side of you" She leaned her head onto his, rubbing their cheeks together.

"Just for you, tesoro" He mumbled still hugging her very content.

That night Aph and Miguel went to fight the anomaly Aph had been researching, it wasn't a difficult one, just a variant of the Lizard.

Aph was finishing up capturing the anomaly, using her webs to tie him up.

"Hey, Aph" Miguel tried to get her attention.

"Mhmm?" She looked up to see what he needed, a little curious on what he might say.

"I'll take care of him and send him to HQ, can you stay here a sec?"

Aph looked a little confused on why he wanted for her to stay here but she did as she was asked, 'Probably another anomaly appeared' She thought.

Miguel opened a portal, taking the anomaly with him and then coming back. He took Aph in his arms, throwing her over his shoulder as he laughed.

Aph was laughing too "Miguel! What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you somewhere, close your eyes for me, just...trust me, ok?" She nodded while still laughing.

She did as asked and closed her eyes, letting Miguel take her to wherever it was that he wanted to go.

She felt the wind on her hair and face as he swung through the city, the rough landings as he would land on the side of a building and had to use his talons to stay on it making her body jump and jostle around but she trusted him to not let her fall.

Finally the rough ride stopped and Miguel put her down on the floor.

"You can open your eyes" He said with a nonchalant tone.

She opened her eyes, her hands covering her mouth in surprise "Ay mi solecito"

They were on top of one of the buildings in Nueva York, up high enough so that everyone on the street looked like ants.

He had layed a blanket on the roof of the building and brought food and drinks to make an improvised picnic.

Aph chuckled "When did you have the time to do this?"

"Believe me it wasn't easy, Didi almost saw me a couple of times when I was preparing it" He sits down and beckons her to also sit by giving her his hand.

She took it gladly letting him help her sit down "Well almost caught or not, this is very thoughtful, thank you" She kissed his cheek gently, barely a peck, a hand on his other cheek to support herself.

He put a hand over the one she had on his cheek, keeping it there as he caressed it softly.

Right there, in that moment, he didn't look as tired as he always did, the lines of annoyance and anger in his face softening at the sight of her, the one person he could trust, his amor, his corazón, his lunita.

The world didn't seem so dull whenever they were around each other.

They drank out of red plastic cups, eating the food that Miguel had brought.

They talked about non important things but in the eyes of the both of them it didn't seem like it.

In that moment, the world seemed full of color, it was all pure bliss as they hugged under the stars and the moon.

Taglist (Open): @sweetimpurity @sweetimpurityloves @bluemadnessstuff @stressedmacaronisalad

[eideticstark]

Federal Gambit- Part 3

Warnings: Minimal swearing, mentions of death, minimal mentions of self harm

Pairings: dad!Gibbs x reader, Hotch x fem!reader

A/N: Hello readers, thank you for sticking around. Here's the requested part 3! If you haven't read part 2, go back and do so. First off, I am so sorry it took so long! I just finished my first year of university a month ago. I hate leaving things unfinished so I'm coming back to this. This chapter is kind of a drag because it is all plot stuff but I'm hoping the story will be done with two more parts! As always, feel free to critique me and/or leave requests! Thanks for reading! <3

Tags: @ilovemark1951 @brooke-stinson @jazzymariexoxoxo @flyingmushroomss

Leroy and Aaron quickly rushed to you. The blast was weak but strong enough to render you unconscious. Aaron called his team while Leroy dialed 911. 

“Stay with us y/n,”.

Coma Dream

Flashback to when you were 17

Leroy was about to ship out for another deployment. Lucky for you, he’d be there for the holidays. He decided to take you, Kelly, and Shannon, on a trip to his cabin he built but never got to use. Snow was gently falling. Leroy started a fire while your mom made you and your sister hot chocolate. Kelly draped a blanket over the two of you as you sipped your warm beverage. You turned towards Kelly the same time Kelly turned towards you. The two of you burst into a fit of laughter because whipped cream covered your noses. Shannon shook her head moving out of her spot to get you both napkins. Leroy admired the scene from afar, his blue eyes softened and filled with content. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend time with his family. 

Once everyone was settled, you all exchanged gifts. Kelly gifted you a locket with a picture of you two sticking your tongues out and making a silly face. Funny enough, you gifted Kelly the same thing. Shannon gifted Leroy a vintage wooden hand plane and he gifted her a small wooden boat. 

The rest of the day was spent enjoying every moment with the family before the inevitable deployment happened. 

As soon as the holidays were over, Leroy shipped out, the family outing now just a past memory.

It was a crisp January morning. You were running a high fever resulting in you missing school. Shannon drove Kelly to school that day and where it all went downhill. 

You saw the news on TV and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Your mom and your sister were dead. You needed to reach your dad but you knew that was wishful thinking. It was impossible to reach him whenever he was deployed. With tears falling fast, you did the next best thing and called Leroy’s friend. 

You hid because those same people might go after you next. In hiding, it was only you and your thoughts. You drove Kelly to school everyday. It should’ve been you. And for that, you hated yourself. At that moment, you hated your father. But, you also knew he was the only one who’d be able to help you.

—

You don’t know how many weeks, maybe even months have passed. All the days started to mend together. You couldn't care less. The pain of losing everything is all consuming. There was nothing worth living for. You decided today was the day as you grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills. One bottle. One bottle and all the pain would be gone. Your hands shook as the pills rattled into your palm. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and felt a stinging pain. Your eyes shot open and were faced with your father in front of you. 

In true Gibbs fashion, his timing is impeccable and smacked the pills out of your hand. 

All your anger returned and you pushed Leroy with whatever force you had. You fell to the ground defeated. Leroy crossed the room and engulfed you in a hug. You broke down, finally feeling safe enough to do so. 

—

Present day at the hospital

“Damnit Gibbs, why isn’t she waking up? The doctor said she’s stable and should’ve been awake within a couple hours after surgery. It’s been a almost a day and a half” 

With a knowing glint in his eyes, Gibbs answered Aaron’s question. “She doesn’t want to.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why.”

Looking at the locket you never took off, Gibbs responded with, “Not my story to tell.”

—

Hotch decides that the best thing he can do for you is to work the case so he returns back to the BAU. His team has many questions but know better than to ask their unit chief. They gather in the conference room and begin working the case. 

Hotch started the discussion with, “what do we know?”

“Y/n enlisted in the marines when she was 18 shortly after…” Garcia’s voice trailed off.

“Shortly after what Garcia?”

“After Pedro Hernandez murdered her mom and sister,” Garcia responded with a sniffle.

JJ added, “Y/n Gibbs doesn’t exist after she enlisted. I’m assuming because Jethro Gibbs has a long list of enemies.”

“Garcia, what can you find on y/n y/l/n?” 

Moments pass and Garcia is puzzled. “Y/n y/l/n barely exists. The basic info is there but everything else is classified.”

Morgan, trying to bring morale up speaks up, “Baby Girl work your magic and unclassify the info.”

“Aw it’s cute that you’re trying. But I’d be breaking a dozen federal laws.”

Prentiss adds on by saying, “So now you’re afraid? You’ve done so before.”

Before the conversation went even more out of hand, Rossi tells everyone to “quit it” and asks, “Who classified the info?”

“Secretary of the Navy.”

The team continued digging into your life to try and make sense of it all. Hours passed and they still were nowhere closer to finding out who wanted you dead. 

A wave of realization put Reid into a ramble. “We’ve been looking for hours and what did we come up with? Everyone who could want y/l/n dead is dead or the file is classified. How can the unsub figure out who she is if even we can’t get into the files? Any government agency would have been on alert if there were to be a breach.” 

It was already late and Hotch decided to send everyone home and they’d regroup tomorrow morning. Right as the team began packing up, Gibbs and his team swarmed in. 

“Aaron Hotchner, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of y/n y/l/n.”