#i was planning on having my brother do it but he said my needles were shit

[entitled-fangirl]

Chance. (P4)

Aemond Targaryen x reader; Aegon x wife!reader

Summary: Things get messy quickly when she realizes Aemond's plans.

Part 1, 2, 3

Masterlist

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"Prince Aemond, there's been a riot."

Aemond stood tall, his back to the man. He turned his head slowly, taking in the guard's words. "And?"

"The queens and princess have been returned."

Aemond's head immediately shot to the man, his eye wide, "WHAT?"

…

"Please refrain from movement, your grace. I understand it is difficult."

She let out a soft groan, her jaw clenched so hard that she couldn't bring herself to speak.

The Grand Maester carefully moved the needle back through the skin, completing the first stitch on her brow.

Through the riot, her only major injury was a split brow. Easily manageable, though still painful.

Especially when she had to refrain from furrowing them when the pain came through. 

Sat up in bed for once, Aegon watched from afar as the maester pieced together his wife at her vanity.

He didn't try to speak. He didn't want to. Just watching. 

When the needle moved back through the skin, she took in a sharp breath, managing to not move her face besides the slight widening of her eyes. 

…

"Nonsense! Tell me." Aemond grinned.

"No! It's foolish!" She laughed. 

"I'm sure it's not. Just tell me."

She let out a breathy laugh at the thought of what she was to say, "Fine. No laughter."

He huffed playfully but shrugged, "Very well."

She took a deep breath before closing her eyes to avoid seeing his reaction. "Archery."

His eye widened. "Archery?"

She opened her eyes to look at him once she realized he was impressed rather than mocking.

He nodded, "I did not suspect that of you. Any good?"

She smiled, "My father would help me practice by throwing apples into the air."

"Did it work?"

She nodded with a smile, "Incredibly."

Aemond chuckled, "I'd like to see you with a bow in your hands."

She bit back her smile a bit, "Perhaps after our wedding."

"Oh?" He teased, "Are you trying to trick me, girl? Will I marry you only to find out you're horrid at it?"

She barked out a laugh, "Oh, yes. You've discovered my plan."

He smiled, "'Tis a good plan."

She smiled back, "It is."

…

"My queen."

She turned her head just barely to acknowledge his presence, "Aemond."

He frowned, "So informal?"

She let out a breath in amusement that quickly dropped back to her stoic behavior, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what to call you these days."

He hummed, moving further out on the balcony to join her.

He stared out at the city alongside her, "I heard of your recent… mishap."

She sighed.

He continued, "I am quite thankful you came out unharmed."

She scoffed under her breath.

He turned to look at her in slight anger, "Do my words offend you so?"

She shook her head, "You've no idea."

He let out a frustrated breath, "Then tell me."

She turned herself to look at him fully. The horrid sewing of her brow on display for him and a haunting look to match.

He had to hold himself back from gasping. It was rather horrid now, irritated and red. A striking difference to the usual calmness of her skin. 

"The maester said it may scar," she murmured. She then let out an unamused chuckle, "Perhaps you and I will match."

He gritted his teeth. "My people did this?"

She paused a moment at his choice of words, but continued, "War haunts more than just the warriors who fight it on the field."

"I'll kill them for you."

"You'll kill people fighting in these streets for their families? Wishing to feed their children at night? Do not waste your time."

Aemond jaw clenched. He forced himself to take a deep breath and reconvene himself, "Why do you not know what to call me?"

She stared out at the city, "You're a confusing man, Aemond."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She sighed, speaking with calculation but a tone of casualty, "You are the Prince. You are the King regent. You are my brother-by-law. You are our greatest warrior and fiercest dragon rider. You were my betrothed that I…" she paused as she looked at him, "And I still do not know if I can trust you."

He hummed and looked back out at the city, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke, "I assure you, I am no enemy to you, my queen."

"I have yet to decide that."

His head snapped to her, "How so? What is left to decide?" His voice grew rash, "I have defended my brother in battle and now I rule over his throne until he is well-"

"-He'll never be truly well, Aemond." She argued.

He sneered, "You must let me finish." He took a breath, "I rule in his stead, I fight his battles, and I care for his wife- all things he didn't want nor deserved from the beginning! He is weak!"

Her voice raised as she grew defensive, "Watch yourself!"

His eye scrutinized her form, "Do not pretend you are a threat to me."

"I am the QUEEN!" She yelled. 

"I. AM. THE. KING!" He roared and stepped up to her quickly.

She flinched away, taking a few steps back at the anger in his eyes.

Her voice returned to its quiet tone, "You've stated your fealty just then and there."

His face went from rage to surprise, then quickly to remorse, "I am not your enemy, my queen."

"And I almost married you," she stated. "Perhaps I married the right one after all."

…

She sat on the bed, watching the Maester help Aegon walk for the first time. 

Aegon took slow, painful steps and grunted and whines with each one. 

But a step was a step.

He managed across the room before his leg gave out.

Y/n quickly moved, throwing herself from the bed to help the maester catch him.

Together, they moved him back to the bed.

"He's making incredible progress, despite how slow it must feel to you, my queen."

She sighed lightly, "It is great progress. I am very pleased with it. Thank you."

He smiled, excusing himself quickly.

She turned her attention back to Aegon and ran a hand through what hair he had left, "That was wonderful, my love."

His eyes displayed the pain he was in. The whining continued softly as if involuntary escaping from his throat.

She turned serious suddenly, "I am going to ask you questions, Aegon. And… I don't wish to know the entire truth. You will either shake or nod your head. That is all. Understand?"

"Y… yes."

She look a long agonizing breath. She could ask anything.

"Did you truly slay Meleys?"

He shook his head.

"Is Princess Rhaenys truly dead?"

He nodded.

She sighed. "Did Aemond participate in the battle in any capacity?"

He nodded.

"Aemond and Vhagar killed Meleys?"

He nodded.

She bit her lip. How to word these questions just right?

"You were not caught in crossfire of any kind?"

He let out a grunt but shook his head.

Here it was. Just work up the nerve.

"Vhagar and her rider, Aemond Targaryen, released dragon fire upon you with the intent to kill you, knowing full and well that you were the king, Aegon Targaryen II? His brother?"

Aegon closed his eyes, beginning to hiccup and tears fell from his eyes and down his scarred face.

She stared at him, keeping the pity deep in her gut until she received an answer. "Aegon."

A curt nod.

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taglist: @p45510n4f4shi0n, @darktrashsoulbear, @vieenr0se, @pez-unicorn, @marlenees-world, @thatbabydeer, @kahelis, @misspinkonmars

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 2. A dream of life

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: a bit of voyeurism

— WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk

The best art imitates life in a compelling way. If it imitates a dream, it must be a dream of life. — Darwi Odrade

She confessed with regret that she did not, in fact, have one of those pain boxes. A Gom Jabbar was available in the palace and in fact was in the Harkonnen's possession as far as she knew, but that was just a poisoned needle tipped with meta-cyanide. What he was after was the… active part of the humanity test. That was only at the disposal of those sisters qualified to carry it out.

She was certain Feyd would do away with her once she explained how and why she didn’t have what he was after and prepared herself internally for death. But it never came. He paused in thought and nodded, and his cool eyes moved away from her with a shadow of sadness to them. Then he turned around, his broad shoulders clad in black exposed to her, and walked toward the table.

“You will come with me.”

He picked up a shigawire reel and shoved it in a compartment of his suit, a small pocket at the side of his chest, then walked right by her on his way out of the room. She followed obediently.

The palace was quiet, free of the usual fuss that filled it during the day — servants scrambling, scraping like traumatised automatons just trying to survive — but as they walked past the way she came she heard a violent sound from the direction where her old room was. They’re destroying my things, she realised.

Her eyes turned to Feyd-Rautha’s back once more, the smooth black of his clothes and white of his skin, and she wondered what plans he had for her. Would he be more subtle with his killing than his brother was, or… more creative? Would she be able to use the stunning word and paralyse him in time to get away? Would she have to kill him instead?

“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked over his shoulder. It was not an honest question, as she could tell from the smile in his voice.

“No?”

“Funny. I can hear you breathing.”

She bit her lip and glared at the back of his head.

They passed from the most shadowed places of the palace into the well-lit ones where snow-white lamps hung in the air. There were more guards in this area too, and she gradually realised they weren’t going to the prisons. They were going to his quarters.

“After you,” he said, stopping in front of a jaundiced pair of double doors guarded on each side by armed guards as still as statues.

She looked up at him warily as she stepped forward. He was still smiling in that cocky, boyish way, but something was incongruent. His awkward pose — not quite facing her, not quite to the side — the bent of his back as if he tried to make himself seem shorter, his arms somewhat aimless at his sides… He was trying to be polite and he didn’t know how.

She stepped inside. His room was nothing like what she imagined. The natural pale yellow of the Arrakeen stone gave it a softness that was at odds with the black linens on the massive bed. Moonlight streamed from the twin window slits on the opposite wall, and on the smooth tables lay an array of little boxes, pots, and cases left half-opened. There was a scent of ink there that cut through the modest smell of disinfectant. He’d only just moved in… He hadn’t had a chance to make the place his own yet.

As she analysed these new surroundings, Feyd stepped in and the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone. The palace seemed all the more distant now.

“My lord na-Baron?”

“Hm?” he muttered as he walked right past her, going to place something inside a drawer by the bed — the shigawire reel.

“W-what… what would you have me do?”

“You can do whatever you like.”

Her eyes slid toward the door. “Can I leave?”

She didn’t expect him to say ‘yes’, but she expected even less what he said next.

“Leave?” he chuckled, looking at her over his shoulder. “Where would you go? You’re my Bene Gesserit now.”

And he continued preparing himself for the night as if it was the most normal of circumstances. A part of her, the most human part, felt offended, but from the periphery of her mind, her training whispered to her what was really going on.

Feyd-Rautha kept his back turned and his attention on the objects in his possession — diskettes of reports he sorted for later reading, the daggers at his belt, the signet ring around his finger — and he spoke to her most dismissively and distantly. He was treating her like a stray cat he had just found and brought into his bedroom. Now he was letting her explore her new home, but he still did not dare to look at her directly, to watch her as openly as he desired. In his every move, however casual, there was nervous self-awareness. Completely opposite to how confident he’d been before he met her.

She’d served the Fenrings before, and the Atreides after them, but until now she had never quite felt owned. Still, if it was a kitten the Harkonnen wanted, that was what she would provide.

Without addressing him, she stepped sideways and turned, letting her posture loosen. Her head tilted back in a light stretch to relieve the tension of expecting death. She moved in a wide arch, slow steps, small sounds, while her fingers traced the surface of the wall for no reason in particular, just to absorb its texture.

“Why do you want me?” she asked in a low and silky voice. Seduction seldom failed with arrogant young men.

“I told you,” answered Feyd rather too quickly, his head bowed as he pretended to clean one of his blades.

“You’ve never had a Bene Gesserit of your own…”

“And it’s about time to have one.”

“Would the Baron approve?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, finally looking up at her. He smiled at the sight of her slinking across the room, dark dress trailing behind her. “Things can change, even in House Harkonnen.”

She paused mid-step to smile back at him. “Changes awaken something in us…”

He gave a noncommital hum and started walking to her, his head tilted in a thoughtful way.

“What sort of things do they teach you?” he asked. “At your… Bene Gesserit school?”

“Many things,” she said with an inviting tone. “Control of the self, the mind, the body… Understanding of history. Political strategy.”

Feyd came to a stop before her, a trepidation into his step. He walked until he cornered her in a darkened divot of the room. Standing a full head taller, he looked down into her eyes.

“What do you want to know?” she whispered.

He frowned, that strange smooth brow ridge wrinkling quite innocently, and his eyes betrayed transparent thoughts. He didn’t know what he wanted to know, but he knew he wanted something.

“What does… a Bene Gesserit do?”

“That depends on what our master wishes.”

“But what do you usually do?”

“We teach. We advise. When asked, we serve.”

“Did Paul Atreides have one?”

“Yes. His mother, Lady Jessica.”

The hints of jealousy were faint. There wasn’t much to envy in the dead… But he looked at her with that strange look in his eyes again, that speck of a little boy lost, and something in her instinctively wanted to cup his cheek, to pet him, and hold him close. She did not doubt that something inside of him wanted it too, and her body was just responding to the subconscious observation.

“Can you kill?” he asked.

“If I have to.”

“And have you?”

“Not yet.”

“In that way, I’m better than you, Bene Gesserit,” he chuckled.

And suddenly, his hand came up to grip the back of her neck. She was startled by how quick the movement was, how his body gave no tells that he would make it. A true predator. He pulled her closer, strong fingers tightening against her nape, pressing her against him. Beneath his armour, the plates of his body were strong. Every feminine part of her responded with a cascade of lust — not at the hidden hint of beauty but at the symbol of his pride. He wasn’t just a pampered princeling living through his allotted years of beauty. He brought his body to the peak of its potential. The motion pulled the veil off her head, and his eyes went to her soft mane of hair. His grip stayed firm, but his gaze traversed this new part of her as if it were a landscape, with hills and dales and quiet streams, all flowing down.

“Na-Baron,” she whispered, hand coming up to grip his wrist.

“Shut up,” he said, blue eyes still focused on her hair. “Go to sleep.” And then he let her go.

He turned from her and walked away with the energy of someone ready to run off — but there was nowhere for him to go, and his steps slowed. She watched him as she rubbed the sore back of her neck, watched how his head bowed for a moment as if he’d just woken up, how he walked toward the large square bed, how he started taking his clothes off…

He was a strange sight indeed. A broken psyche that reflected the duality present in his features — cold and frightful, soft and gentle, brutal but not so much from the absence of affection as from the presence of cruelty on top.

“Where shall I sleep?”

“Hm? Oh…” He looked around as if only just considering that fact. “Whenever you like,” he said, giving up quickly on thinking about it. “But here, in this room. You don’t get out of my sight, little witch. Not until I decide I can trust you.”

He pulled the layers of clothes off. First the armour on his back and shoulders, then the belt around his hips, and the second skin of the black suit that hugged his body.

“And… what shall I wear to bed?”

He paused and turned to look at her. His chest was as white as his face, but strong and chiselled, far less delicate. It shone with the sweat of a long day beneath the yellow light.

“Wear?” he rasped, his lips twisted in a quizzical smile. “Why should you wear anything?”

She settled for sleeping in a chair in a corner of the room. Feyd had gone to sleep completely naked, and he’d not been shy of parading his body around. She watched without fear, without shame, taking note of all the ways his muscles worked, the stretch and give of the skin, the scent of sweat, of blood.

Noting how much he seemed to like her hair, she did not cover it again, and after he fell asleep she quietly took the top layer of her clothing off. The Harkonnens were used to having their servants quite exposed, but she was not about to give him cause to think that that was what she was. If she wanted to survive, she had to walk the tightrope of perception. She had to be above him, as well as below. A knowledgeable Bene Gesserit sister, with all the guileless charm of a kitten.

She remained in her shift, a long grey piece held up by two thin straps, and used her dress as a blanket. She did now sleep but instead pretended to as she entered a state of Prajna meditation.

The secret pathways out of the room became known to her, faint currents invisible to the conscious mind. A spy hole existed in the western wall, covered on both sides by thin material. To the north, a doorway with no handle led into another room. Beyond it, sounds of restless sleeping. Three figures — feminine? Outside, the guards stood watch, but one was close to sleeping.

She was almost at the point where exhaustion caught up with her too, and like a slow receding wave her meditation ended. Her body lay relaxed and limp, head resting on her shoulder, hands folded. But with the last thread of her extended senses, she caught the taste of struggle in the room. Rapid heartbeat, frantic breathing, shifting eyes behind closed lids. Feyd-Rautha was dreaming.

Soundlessly, she slid off the chair and left her dress on it. The floor beneath her naked feet was cold as ice, it made her want to shiver, but she maintained control of every muscle as she walked toward the bed. Feyd’s body was twisted in the silken sheets, twitching, tense. Jolts disturbed his restful state as if in his mind he tried to get away from something. She could almost see the phantom trace of touches on his skin.

He slept on his front, arms thrown above his head, legs spread. His tossing made the sheets slip off his back to reveal a taut, tense expanse that ended in soft cheeks. Beneath them, the faintest hint of hairless, purpling swells and a limp length. He was so vulnerable…

As she got closer, she could hear him mutter words in a foreign language. Was that what they spoke on Giedi Prime? She could make out influences of galactic language all the way to those of the old Earth, but it was just enough to only guess what he was saying. The tone, nevertheless, was clear. He’s afraid, she thought.

She crouched at the edge of the bed where his naked foot hung off the side, her brow crested with worry. He was dangerous, she dared not touch him, and however much she wanted to wake him as a simple human kindness she wanted even more to see where his nightmares led.

With a long and frightful wail muffled by the pillows, Feyd dragged his strong beautiful body upwards, curling like a snake. He pulled his knees up to his chest and started shaking. Every now and then, his foot would kick. The sign of running in a dream. The whiteness of his body, pure and pale as chalk, the hairlessness of even his masculine parts, it made him look so fragile, so defenceless. A fascinating specimen. To think, the step just before the Kwisatz Haderach would look like that...

She let her body fall down to the floor and propped herself against the mattress, her cheek upon the bed. And she watched him, following the shadow of his dreams, for as long as the night went.

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader (2)

ᯓ★ angst, fluff, typical the boys content, Butcher is an asshole?!?! (what a surprise) 😲. Reader is fem!! Here's part 1 if you missed it. (Didn't proof read because im sick again 🤒)

Sounds of muffled talking... needles poking through your skin... your mind fogged from the effects of the drugs... the heavy feeling of helplessness as you were tied down. Nothing you could do. You were hopeless. You didn't stand a chance.... Slowly you squint your eyes open as the vision of your friend's corpse comes to view. The horrifying sight jerking your body awake.

"Oh...oh..." You breath heavily with your body covered in cold sweat. The adrenaline coursing through your veins. You looked around to make sure you weren't inside your cage, but rather inside the room your brother had given to you.

When you were sure you were safe, you let out a relieved sigh as you rub your eyes, giving yourself a moment to settle down. Something tells you this won't be the last nightmare you'll have. Once you were sure you were in a stable condition, you got out of bed and decided to head downstairs to what seemed to be their office.

After last night when you were taken to their headquarters, Butcher offered you some clothes to change into and also making sure you were well fed. From how exhausted you were at the time, you could only remember talking about something to Butcher before passing out on his bed.

As you descend from the stairs, you couldn't help but peek your head to look at who were present. Even though they were told to be his friends. You yourself weren't that 100% willing to trust a bunch of strangers just because he said they were 'not the worst people he's met'. To your surprise it was just three people inside and they were each doing their things.

Butcher wasn't anywhere in sight.

This sucks.

Since you aren't planning to stand and wait at the stairway, you entered the office, it only took a few steps for your presence to be noticed. You sat on the sofa just a few feet from the girl who appeared to be busy writing in her book. She shoots you a warm smile which you hesitantly smiled back.

"I'm (Y/N)... what's your name?" You asked but she suddenly shifts her eyes from you to someone else. Curious, you looked over the sofa to see someone already approaching you.

"Her name's Kimiko..." He said as he takes a seat beside you.

"You still remember my name yes? I was the one who snuck you out" You thought for a second before finally recognising him.

"Frenchie right?" You asked and judging from the smile on his face. You must be right.

"I didn't get to say but thanks for rescuing me" You said to which he laughs.

"Ahh...! Don't thank me! Your brother would have skinned me alive if I refused. If you had seen his outrage when he found out Homelander had you involved, you'd think twice before pissing him off by saying no" He recalled, emphasising everything he says through his hand gestures and facial expressions.

"He does have a temper..." You uttered.

Just then the door opens and all four of you turned to see Butcher walking in with another guy. You got to your feet and went over to your brother who after taking off his coat, hands you the takeaway he had bought.

"Here ya go sis. I figured durin' your days as a lab rat you probably ate like one" He said as you realise he had bought you your favourite food.

The simple gesture somehow making you feel like a kid again. The simpler times where you felt stress free. Just sleep and eat. Though you didn't dwell too much into the feeling as the feeling of hunger soon made you quickly sit down and started eating. Butcher eyes you for a second before walking off to talk to his friend about something that you could care less about.

Mm... good food...

You were too focused gobbling down the food in front of you that you failed to notice the guy sitting on the chair before you. He watches you consciously as you ate like you never eaten in ages. It was when you began to choke that he panicked and quickly pushed the cup of water towards you. His hands retreating back to his lap to avoid any contact with your skin.

As you gulp down the water and finally waited for the burn in your chest to vanish was when you realised you had been eating like a wolf. Months of being locked up by Homelander felt like a physiological torture that you seemed to have lost all your self control. You really lost touch with humanity. It makes you hate him even more for what he did.

"Hey um... you holding up alright? We haven't properly met. I'm Hughie" He said once he sees you zoning out. You look at him with your brows slightly raised.

His voice was somehow soothing. Like the feeling of a fever dream.

"I'm (Y/N)"

"I know" He smiles slightly at you, almost like he's fascinated by your presence.

"So you're his sister. I didn't even think he had any family. He was always private about his life"

"So am I. I guess it runs in the family..."

Your harmless joke making him chuckle softly. As you go back to eating in a more slower pace, he couldn't help but watch your every movement. It was like watching a kid eating for the first time. When they had saved you, you were almost all bones. Your hands are trembling even now just from holding the spoon.

Just even thinking of that night, what still intrigued him was even after those months of torture you still had the energy to argue with your brother. It was there where he finally understood how you were both related. You were just as much as a fighter as your brother is.

"Ahh motherfucker" You cursed as you fan at the fly to get away from your food though the second it touches your skin, it instantly drops dead on the table.

The two of you stared at it as it twitches slightly before going limp.

Problem... solved?

"I assume that you did that on demand?"

"I... think so?"

Just when you thought things were ever gonna be back to normal, your powers always had to remind you of the true reality. The reality that you are NOT normal. Since you were curious of your new abilities, you reached out and touched the flower pot just placed in the center of the table.

Just one touch of your finger on the leaves. The plant slowly devolves from a lively colour to a rotting brown. The flower withers as the stem grows weak. Due to the lack of stability, it collapses completely. Somehow the sight of the dead plant made your throat dry. Images of your friend's corpse flashing in your mind.

Hughie took notice of your dilated eyes and decided to take the plant off the table, placing it carefully on the ground to make sure it's out of your sight. You could only take long breaths as you tried to get rid of the terrible image. Gosh... you can't even imagine how her family is dealing with this... or if they even know she's... sigh..

"Oi!" The sound of Butcher's call causing you two to look at him. When he waves at you to head over to him, you shoot Hughie an apologetic look as you got up to see what he's calling you for.

"You know you don't have to call me over like a dog, I have a name"

"Oh really? Your character hardly screams 'man's best friend', especially with that pissy look" He teases you with a slight smirk which you simply ignored.

"What is it?"

He stares at you, taking note of your expressionless face before nodding to himself. His whole demeanour becoming serious within seconds.

"It's about your powers" He said, his words catching your full focus in an instant.

"From what we've known... the only possibility for a non-supe person to have powers is to dose themselves with a modified version of compound v. But that's only temporary, and yours... are permanent" Butcher said, his eyes avoiding yours.

"Whatever they did to you, we're gonna figure it out... so, while I do that, M.M will be supervisin' you, won't ya M?" Butcher said, looking over his friend who's hunched over his table and writing something down.

"Well if it ain't me then who else is gonna"

"I can!" Frenchie spoke up, his forwardness catching everyone's attention. Once he realises the looks he was getting, he awkwardly smiles.

"You know, for research" He adds. You sigh as you close your eyes, turning your head to face your brother.

What are you getting yourself into at this point...

"Nothing you say quite makes sense to me. The fuck is a compound v??"

"It's what gives the supes their powers"

"What??" You narrow your brows.

"You're saying they weren't gifted?? Like, God didn't bless them and made them our saviours?? They're just a bunch of normal people high off of superpower drugs??" He grins widely at your conclusion.

"Congratulations sis, you're finally catchin' up" He said, giving you a pat on the back before walking away. You stand there, still a bit confused before going after him.

"Waitwaitwait, where are you going? You just got back a few minutes ago" You asked as he puts on his coat.

"I'm going to meet someone. Hopefully they can help me with your situation, or at least provide some insight on what Homelander did to you"

Homelander.

Just the mention of his name being said by someone made your blood boil.

You wanted to tear him apart.

"Alright... but don't take too long... okay?" You look at him, almost like you were trying to beg him to stay with your eyes. You could tell it was working when you saw how his face started to relax a bit.

"Yeah..." He reaches for your head but stops midway when he realises he can't.

The sad reality of wanting to hold his own sister could cost him his own life was completely breaking him.

All the more reason to meet up with this contact to figure out a solution.

He doesn't say anything after letting his hand fall to his side. You could only stand there and watch him leave. Somehow, some part inside of you was fearful of the speech Homelander gave you was becoming true. That his goal of striking fear in Butcher by using you was slowly working.

"Hey, (Y/N). I'm gonna need you to come here" M.M said. You didn't say anything but sat on the chair he instructed you to sit on. You watch as he scribbles something on his book before eventually turning to face you.

"Alright so I wrote down some theories and I need you to work with me" He said, his instructions pretty clear. Your eyes however couldn't help but peek at what he had written down.

Does it only work when it's in contact with skin?

Is it like poision? Or does it disintegrate everything it touches?

Can it be controlled?

If it's dangerous then how dangerous can it be?

"Here, put these on" He then handed you a pair of leather gloves.

You took it and did just as he said. You couldn't help but clench your hands a couple of times to adgust to the fabric of the gloves. Somehow you felt hopeful of this plan. Just then you see him pick up a small plant and placing it on the table in front of you. He nods his head towards it, telling you to touch it.

Though you hesitated... before finally obliging.

You let your fingertips touch the leaves just as you did only a few minutes ago to the other plant. To your surprise, it didn't change colour nor grow weak. It was perfectly fine. This discovery caused you to be overjoyed to the fact you were struggling to form words. M.M simply nodded as he wrote something in his book.

"Holy shit it worked" You exclaimed and couldn't help but stare down at your gloved hands.

"Guess the only thing that can stop you from hurting someone is those gloves..." He turns to face you once again. The smile on your face slightly drops at the mention of hurting someone.

"Guess so..." You uttered, a wave of sadness washing over the joy you were experiencing just now. This will have to be the new normal now...

"Hey, at least it's better than nothing" He said, giving you a comforting pat on the arm. You look at him with a grateful smile, acknowledging his optimistic view of the outcome.

For the next few days you were able to conduct several experiments with the boys. Ranging from testing out your strength to trying to read minds. There were definitely some very odd ideas they've come up with but neither of them wanted to leave out anything so they had to think of all the possibilities of what you could do. Although you were still uneasy about this new change, you felt reassured after knowing more about your powers. In a way you like to think that you had more control over yourself.

It was now Sunday, you were in their office resting on the sofa. Compared to your first day here, you could tell by your own body language that you were beginning to grow comfortable around the group. As you watched whatever was on the TV, you overheard a conversation going on between Butcher and M.M nearby. However judging by their tone it seemed to be about something serious.

"Seriously Butcher? You want to get him involved?" M.M said, displeased with something.

"Nobody knows this better than he does and I'm runnin' out of options"

"Options or patience Butcher, do you have any idea what he's done? If you ever so blink, he will put a bullet right between your eyes"

"Well then, you can rest assure that I'll keep my eyes wide open for any bullets" Butcher's stubbornness earning an annoyed grunt out of M.M.

"Relax mate... I've got this. When have I ever let you and the others down, huh?" He said, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"You actually want me to answer that?"

Without saying another word, Butcher simply walked away and you, who've been secretly hearing their conversation couldn't help but take a peek of your brother. Once you see him heading to the other part of the room far from the rest, you decided to get up and approach him.

"Are you having a fun time staring at the wall?" You said, pointing out how he has his arms folded as his hand is stroking his chin. His brows perked at your words.

"You're talkin' about me?" He scoffs.

"Honestly it's better than starin at your face... what do you want?" He looks at you, a playful look on his face.

"What were you talking about with M.M just now? Sounds like it was tough"

"Oh it's nothin', he's just being dodgy about the guy I strucked a deal with"

"If I heard it right, he also said he's slick enough to put a bullet through your head" You lift your gloved hand up to point at his forehead which he simply brush your hand away from his face.

"I've got my share of bullet wounds, I'll survive"

"Not through the skull though"

"How ironic, you've always did call me hard-headed sis" Just as he said that, he started to walk off like he always does when he feels himself being lectured by you, or anyone. That's why you stood in his way when he was just a few feet from the door.

"Where are you going?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Okay, fine, don't tell me, just take me with you" He stares at you, unsure of what you were trying to do.

"No way in hell am I bringing you outside"

"If that's your concern then I can wear a disguise. Nobody will know it's me"

"Nobody is not my concern, my concern is you. What if you accidentally let a bit of your skin show and you, oh I don't know, turn a pedestrian into a fucking mummified corpse"

"What the fuck are you crying about? I can wear layers! C'mon, anything to get out of this cooped up place for once"

"You're complaining about this being cooped up? Tell me, would you rather spend a year here or that lab?"

"Hey fuck you! That is not what I meant! I just wanted to go outside!"

"Alright alright! Would you two quit it before you tear my ears off" M.M said, having to be the one to end the bickering.

"I was just about to leave anyways" Butcher didn't even look you in the eye and walked past you. His attitude was making you angrier than ever.

You just wanted to shout and throw things around. This is just like your argument with him regarding his path of going down a life of committing crimes against supes. He always never chooses to take you seriously. Yet even after years where you'd think the consequences of his actions would shape his character a bit, it sure as hell didn't, instead it just gave him a sloppy kiss on the face. You went upstairs into your bedroom and just as you open the door, you found Hughie inside. Awkward, he quickly stands from where he was crouching.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Oh uh sorry I was looking for the tools Frenchie asked for, he said it was in Butcher's room... which... is... your room now..." He clears his throat as he avoids your gaze.

"Is it the yellow box with the 'Do not touch' note on it?"

"Y-Yeah how do you—?" Without even letting him finish, you were already heading over to your bed to get it out from underneath it. You hand it to him and he takes it with a surprised look. The heavy weight causing his body to drop a bit but he quickly recovers from it.

"I guess I'll go... thanks" He said but you had your back turned to him as you went to sit down on your bed, clearly indicating you weren't in the best mood. He walks to the door, though he doesn't leave. After hesitating, he turns around to face your back once again.

"You okay?" He calls out. His question leaving you feeling even more conflicted.

"Just Butcher" You replied.

Oh.

Somehow that simple answer clears it up. He may not have worked with him the longest but he's worked long enough to know that the man can be such a pain in the ass. Pretty much a day with the man is enough to get a clear picture of his personality. What didn't make it any better was the difference in their beliefs about the supes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Hughie asks. You stared down at your hands that are scratching at your nails. You do wanna talk about it but you're not sure anyone would listen to you, like actually understand how you felt.

"Are you gonna judge me?" You asked.

"Judge you? Why would I do that?"

"Well... would you be concern if I told you I'm debating whether or not if I should punch him the next time I see him?" You looked at him, searching for his reaction.

"... would it make you feel better if I told you I once had?" He said and the image of someone like Hughie punching Butcher made you chuckle a bit to yourself.

"I find that very hard to believe... but did it at least feel good?" You look at him and you could see him slowly inviting himself into the room as the conversation continued on.

"It did. For a while..." Soon he sat himself beside you on the bed.

"I don’t wanna seem like I'm intruding but why is it that you guys are always at each other's throats... I mean, he really seems to care about you so shouldn't you two get along well?"

"Psssh... he doesn't care about me"

"Errr, if he didn't he wouldn't have gone out of his way to save you from Homelander. He even sent me to spy on you when you were at work once. It was kinda—"

"Huh?" You interrupt him and your reaction had him hold his tongue.

"Spy on me? When was that?" He stares at you, batting his lashes at you blankly a few times.

"Uh I thought Butcher told you... I was the customer who asked to go to the restroom. Remember? The one with the jacket on?" He said but you were having a hard time recalling the exact memory. Your mind still a bit fuzzy from everything that happened before the kidnapping.

"I don't know... but I can't believe he would do that. Spying on me?" You said and once again the anger that was slowly dying down was now going back up.

"He was worried about you"

"If he was worried about me then he would talk to me face to face, not send one of his friends while he hid away like a coward"

"Maybe he was trying to find the right time?" You suddenly turn your head to look at him.

"Why are you making so much excuses for him??" You called him out since you figured from some of the things he told you, he probably hated him just as much as you did.

"I don't know... maybe it was that night when you guys hugged that... kinda changed my mind about him a bit... it's hard to explain but a different side of him showed. After you went to sleep, he stayed up the entire night in the office figuring out how to help you. I did try to get him to sleep but he just started cursing at me to fuck off" He said, recalling the night.

Just thinking of your brother going through computers and documents trying to find the reason behind your manifestation of powers made your heart melt a bit. You can only imagine the hours of sleep he missed, not that he even gets enough sleep but all that hours he could be using to rest and instead using it to solve your issue was nice yet sad to know. Too bad it lead him to doing business with some shady person you don't even know about. All because he wanted to help you.

"So I'm pretty sure that yeah, he does cares about you..." You stare at him, somehow amused at his way of talking things out with you.

"You really went all out trying to prove a point huh?" You said to which he laughed.

"Force of habit maybe? Anyways, I better go, Frenchie needs his tools and you look like you need some rest" He got up and began heading towards the door again but before leaving, he stops to look at you.

"Hopefully you guys work it out. He's been through a lot and I think having his family close by might keep him... human" He added. You take his words into consideration as he finally goes.

....

"Why'd you let that happen to me?" She yelled through her tears, grabbing at your shoulders as if she needed support from her limping body.

......

"You dragged me into this mess!!" Her nails were so sharp you felt like it was digging through your skin.

.............

"You killed me!! You were my friend!! You fucking bitch!!!" You couldn't breath. You felt like you were floating in an endless void.

...................

"Rot with me" She uttered. You scream as thousands of hands began grabbing at every corner of your body. The countless amount of nails on your skin sent shivers down your body. You try to scream for help but its as though your voice was stuck in your throat as no sound comes out.

........................

"NO!! STOP!!" You shout as you awake on your bed. Your screams were loud enough that it caused the door to swing open.

Your brother quickly sat himself on the bed, being careful to wrap you in the blanket before holding you close in his arms. Though your mind was too focused on the nightmare to even know who it was that was holding you. Her whisper like voice, her skeleton face, and fuck... the feeling of the thousand of nails poking your skin haunted you even more. It was so real.

"Sis... hey...! You're safe. You're here with me. No one's goin' to hurt you" He said, his voice being the thing to bring you back to the present. Your breathing somehow steadies after scanning the room to double take.

You really are safe.

"Shit.. sorry..." You could only say as your brother rubs his hand behind your back. The sight of your pale face grew concern.

"You wanna talk about what's got you screamin' in your sleep?" He asks and you let out a half embarrassed sigh. Hopefully you weren't that loud.

"I don't think I'm ready for that..." You said since what you wanted to do now was forget it.

"Aight..." He nods and continues on rubbing your back to provide some comfort. He's not big with words so this is the most he can do...

The room remained silent while you enjoyed the peace you got from his presence. When you felt yourself finally able to think rationally, you can't help but think of what Hughie told you. Working things out... To be clear, talking about your feelings with your family, let alone your sibling ain't easy as it seemed. But seeing the things you and him have gone through, that seems like the best option right now.

"Can I ask you something?" You look up at him and he looks down at you, you could tell he was worried about what you might say, yet he nods.

"Go ahead"

"... what happened after I left... like how did it lead to this? To... how you are now...?" You asked and it caused him to look away with a defeated grunt. As though he saw the question coming from a mile away.

"Theres not much to say... I fought... and I did what I had to do to survive... I wish I could tell you I was a good person for it but... I'd be lying, you wouldn't look at me now if I told you half the things I've done" He answers with his hand placed on your arm. You frown.

"It feels as though you're treating me that way already. You're my brother but sometimes you treat me like I'm just a package to you. That's what your job is about right? Whatever this job is..."

"That's not true sis..."

"Then why does your face tell another story?" You said and your words made him furrowed his brows even more. He stares at you, as if he's considering something in his mind.

"... you won't understand it"

"What don't I understand? We're family right? Blood is thicker than water. That sort of bullshit. We've been through hell together as kids. Having to take abuse from our shitty parents... then losing Lenny..." The mention of his deceased brother pained him even more that he was struggling to maintain eye contact at this point.

"Don't push me away... not again..." You pleaded while placing your other hand on top of his arm. He stayed quiet... almost too long that you were beginning to think he was gonna choose the quiet route out of the conversation until he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"How do I even start... I was furious when I found out Homelander got you involved in our fued.. but then through that rage, I also thought... what if I never went on pissing off a bunch of supes for my selfish reasons? It could have prevented how it led to this. To how he found you" Butcher began to say and you could just hear the guilt in his voice as he began confessing to you about his feelings.

"I regret some choices and some not so much... sometimes I wonder if I should've listen to you and visited that therapist you suggested. I still have the card in my wallet... but I also thought the road was too blurry to head back. I've already got too much blood on my hands, enough to fill a whole sea..." He pauses, then letting out a shaky breath.

"But if I'm being honest with you, my biggest regret would be puttin' you in any danger. Now I can't even look at you without being reminded of my mistakes... that's why it was better that you hated me instead, because it's not fair for you to forgive me after all that"

All his talking about himself was painful to even hear. Let alone the sad and defeated expression on his face. This was the most vulnerable he has ever shown himself to you. The big brother you always thought to be this indestructible force was now bawling out his emotions to you. Oddly enough, you felt glad to see him open himself up to you. This was a new start... when he became quiet, you decided to speak.

"I get why you'd think that but... didn't you tell me it was useless to dwell on things you know is irreversible? Yeah sure, I did have bad stuffs happen to me but you also helped me out of it"

"Bad things which you wouldn't be in if it weren't for me" He was quick to add when you paused but you were fast to respond.

"I know I know but... my point is... some good came out of it... and we can't change the past so we might as well control what comes next. You know... shape our destiny..." You said, feeling awkward as he stares at you a bit too hard but suddenly out of nowhere he snorts into laughter.

"What! Why are you laughing about?" You were confused at his reaction because you weren't sure if he was genuinely humoured or losing his sanity.

"I didn't know you were into that cheesy Shakespeare shit. Where'd you read that one from? The library?" He wheezes and you roll your eyes from his teasing. He can never take you seriously.

"Did you even hear what I said?" You said and from his body shifting a bit was when you realise your feet has been pressed against his leg the entire time you've both spoken. The heavy weight of the blanket must have made it harder to feel.

Even though your skin is touching his, he doesn't seem to be rotting or anything. Rather, he's still laughing at your talk just now. When he finally stops is when you point out your discovery to him. By the time he sees it, he's fast to pull his leg from contact of your skin as to not play with his luck.

"Well shit... what do you make of that?" Butcher looks at you after pretty much leaping up to his feet.

"Then it means that my powers could be controlled?? How is the question..." You said but Butcher seemed to have lose interest on that as another thing is already on his mind.

"So you don't blame me... after everything?" He asked and you look at him, your body frozen with your hand was in the process of lifting up your feet just now to get a close inspection.

"No... but if you keep pissing me off with your attitude I might start hating you" You said after finally leaving your feet alone. He chuckles lowly.

"You're not the brightest person I know" He said but there was a smile on his face. A happy one to be precise.

"That's because I'm related to you, fucker" You joked back.

Eventually after you two seemed to resolve the tension between you both, you manage to go back to sleep with Butcher willing to watch over you by sitting beside you on the bed, but it didn't take long for him to fall asleep, which trying to be as discreet as possible, you were able to catch a peek of. Since you didn't want him to freeze, you place the extra blanket onto him. After all, maybe he's not that much of an asshole.

TAGS

@demodemo909 @naniky @1infp1

[darknight3904]

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but I had an idea for one if you do? Aemond X reader where Aegon insults reader infront of Aemond and he stands up for reader because he has feelings for them

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy this one. I tried to make Aegon as gross as possible.

Reader is from House Stark in this but feel free to imagine it differently if you so choose.

Warnings: Aegon Targaryen

Insults

Aegon had never been Aemond's favorite sibling. If he had to choose, that position would've gone to Daeron who had been off in Oldtown for years now. After all, the best sibling is one that just simply doesn't bother others. Of course, Heleana was nice too, she was quiet usually in her own head. Aemond never minded sitting in silence with her while she poured over her needle work and he a good book. All he knew was that Aegon was his least favorite sibling, that was for sure.

You had been an unexpected variable in Aemond's life. His betrothal to you was unexpected and initially not welcome. Aemond hadn't been interested in marrying so young, let alone to some northern girl he'd never met. He knew what Starks were, they were stubborn and annoying, much like that Direwolf they so proudly wore. He found the sigil to be rather boring compared to his families, a dragon would always be the more impressive sigil.

He had kept his negative thoughts his entire flight to Winterfell. Vhagar had let out multiple grumbles of disapproval as the temperature dropped, she seemed to dislike snow as much as he did. His negative thoughts hung over him like a cloud as he stood in Winterfell's Great Hall. Cregan Stark had treated him with kindness and said his cousin was a "Winter Beauty." Aemond found himself rather uninterested until supper that night. In his mind what good was beauty if a person lacked brains. Aegon was proof of that. Silver hair and violet eyes only got his brother so far.

"My Prince, I hope your flight to Winterfell was easy."

Your first words to him had him entranced. He was not to be married to you for another three years yet he found himself petitioning your father to take you back to Kings Landing. A guest of the King, after all he wanted to get to know you better.

Your father had relented after you had begged him to go to the capital. Aemond had a feeling you were entranced by his looks, he could not blame you though, Targaryens were closer to gods rather than men.

He spent many moons by your side, laughing and reading. Your favorite spot turned out to be the Godswood where he ended up spending countless hours threading his thin fingers through your hair. As the days passed and bled together, Aemond found himself more and more wrapped around your finger. His eye sought you out at every formal feast his father threw, hoping you'd honor him with a dance instead of sitting beside his sister or pushing the food on your plate around.

Aemond believed every man was entitled to enjoy his nameday, that is why he was doing this. He wanted his older brother to be happy, that is why he is sitting at a huge table, piled with food for Aegon and his friends rather than at the library with you. It is for Aegon, is what his mind chants as his brother and the rest of their party become drunker as the night wears on. The feast his father had thrown was still in full swing as Aegon downed his seventh cup of wine. His father and mother departed the party early, King Viserys health was troublesome.

"Little brother, you seem rather drawn tonight," Aegon says, suddenly pointing the conversation to Aemond despite ignoring him all night.

He turns his gaze to his brother who is practically drowning in the pitcher of wine before him

"I have other matters to attend to. I don't wish to drink myself into stupor, brother." Aemond says

"Oh yes, right." Aegon smiles, " Are those other matters the Stark girl here? She does not matter. Marriage is so...droll. I only visit Heleana when I am drunk."

"I do not plan to be like that to Lady Stark," Aemond says looking at you, your mouth is pressed into a firm line and your brows furr in displeasure

Aegon lets out a mocking laugh and takes another sip of his drink. Aemond watches as his brother's hand snakes its way back to his cup.

"Why ever not? She's nothing but a walking womb for you brother, a place to carry on the Targaryen line while securing a good relationship with that Cregan fellow."

Aegon's drunken laughter fills Aemond's ears while his mind fills with rage. How dare he? He glances at you who shoots him a look of "Stay put, he's drunk,".

Aemond slams his own cup down on the table. The drink he has been nursing all night splashes out and onto the wood below. His brother's laughs fall silent as Aemond approaches him. Aegon lets out a small hiccup when his Aemond lowers himself so he's level with his pig-headed brother.

Aemond takes his brother's shirt in his hands. The material is soft in his fingers, only the best for a Targaryen Prince. He leans in so he's close enough to smell the drunkenness on his older brother's breath.

"You will never speak another word of her, do you understand?" He says, his voice dangerously low.

Aegon's friends have fallen silent as they watch the two princes stare at each other. Aegon is standing on the tips of his toes as Aemond lifts him so they're closer to eye level.

"Why? She is nothing to us. We are dragons." Aegon lets out another drunk giggle, "She is nothing but a whore."

Aemond cannot control himself anymore, red flashes before his remaining eye as he takes his arms and slams his much weaker older brother face-first into the table. He uses one arm to hold Aegon's head against the wood and the other to pull Aegon's left arm up behind his back, pinning him down.

"Aemond!"

Your voice falls on deaf ears as Aegon struggles below him. It feels good to do this to him, he has poked and teased Aemond for so many years. Aemond might've been able to let it go but bringing his betrothed, whom he had just recently come to accept his feelings for, into their feud was unacceptable.

"Prince Aemond, let him go!" A guard yells as they run towards them.

The party has fallen into a lull as the guests turn to see the two Princes fighting.

"All eyes are on us, brother," Aemond says, leaning down to speak directly into Aegon's ear

"Let me go." Aegon demands, trying to push himself up

"If you ever insult her again, I'll feed you to Vhagar."

"You wouldn't," Aegon says, still struggling under Aemond's arms

"I would. I'd even laugh when your eyes melt from their sockets as you scream for our mother." Aemond pulls his thin dagger from its sheath that stays strapped around him at all times "Do not insult her, ever."

Aegon's eyes widen when Aemond lets the dagger rest on his cheek.

"Fine! Let me up!"

Aemond relents and unhands him. The guards relax when they see Aegon unharmed.

"What are you doing?"

You are at his side immediately, grabbing his arm, ready to scold him for his actions.

"Defending your honor, my love." Aemond smiles "No one, not even my brother, will insult you when I am here."

Requests are open, you can place them in my inbox or message directly.

Main Masterlist

Want more of my writings for Aemond? Check out my Aemond series The Race.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

X Men Animated Yandere Sabertooth and Wolverine meeting a child who was created using both of their DNA

Ohoho, yes! I love those two! I write them as brothers, so I'll be careful in how the DNA thing works. That being said, we'll go with this:

Trying to knock sense into his brother was like trying to knock sense into a boulder.

Hard, rough, full of broken bones, and painful.

The b*stards at Weapon X had erased anything, everything, all of their past together, everything that had ever mattered from his runt's mind, and then had the audacity to use him as a weapon. Use BOTH of them as weapons. Forcing them to kill, to tear apart, to sabotage-

All because they were mutants.

And humans hated mutants, no matter what.

He killed them, the ones who did this to them. That still didn't fix things, though. He did fix quite a few of them up, though. Fixed them right into dinner. Into trophies. Into minced meat and bloodied bones.

That being done and over with-

He didn't expect to find a kid who was more or less a mixed clone- sibling- something, of the two of them...

Logan had done what he could throughout the years, trying to find his identity, his past, his lost loves...

Sadly, that past was full of hurting, hurting of him, hurting of others, and somehow, someway, Sabretooth always seemed to be nearby. Watching. Waiting. Pouncing. One of the few people anything like him, and the guy's a full-on nut-case.

Just peachy.

But he at least did his best to do good. Creed, he couldn't say that, could he?

But apparently this new bad wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his, either.

Who woulda thought the sickos who ran Weapon X would have made a kid?

Who would have thought that kid would have had parts of both their DNA, making them a clone of sorts, if not their own sibling.

The two can't stand knowing they have a mini other running about, one who has every flaw and nature that they have. Who is only a cub, a pup, nothing more than a kit trying to survive in a world too hateful to love 'em...

Course, they plan to fix that.

If they could just keep the kid away from the other feral-

"Back off, Creed!" Wolverine growls, unsheathing his claws as he faces off against the larger feral, who only growls back.

"Stay outta the way, runt. They're just as much my sibling as yours," he purr-growls, slowly moving in.

The two of them know Reader is watching them from their hiding place in the trees, eyeing them carefully.

This battle isn't about lost brotherhood or vengeance. This is about custody rights to the newest feral, THEIR own flesh and blood.

The moment their claws cross, the kit is scrambling through the high-up branches, looking for a way to avoid them as they tussle across the icy dirt, rocks and pine needles scattering in their wake. Sabretooth winds up on top, his knee pressed into his younger brother's ribs, the weight causing them to creak.

"Get off!" Logan hisses, struggling under the force, only to be met with a tut.

"Now now, Jimmy... That's no way ta talk ta yer older brother... Now, calm down. 'M not gonna keep the cub away from ya. But... I think ya might need ta take a small nap. Yer as grouchy as a pup without their milk," purrs Victor, and in a quick motion, stabs a large dart into Wolverine's neck, waiting until the smaller mutant falls unconscious.

"'Kay, kit, it's yer turn! Now, ya can come out and take it easy... Or ya can play hard, and take a long nap like the runt over here..." he calls out, slowly pulling himself up and dusting off the snow that's covered him.

When they don't respond, he huffs lightly, then lunges onto the nearest tree, clawing his way up, until he finds where Reader hid themself. He grins, glad to know they didn't leave while he and their brother fought...

"Time ta come home, kit..."

[chaoticallywriting]

☂Death and Her Companion☂

Prologue

Description - And so we meet the girl from the bunker, the hidden away secret. The one to powerful, to fearsome and to quick-witted. How sad it must be to be the harbinger of death and yet have such a kind soul. How odd it strikes the other Hargreaves that this wondrous woman is their 'little' brothers supposed ex. One must wonder what her role is in everything, which chest piece she is on Reginald Hargreaves board. One thing is for sure, to Five she is the all mighty queen.

A/N - Please don't expect much of me, I am dragging myself through work four cans of alani at a time. There are little time jumps throughout their time in the apocalypse. I plan on writing more cute apocalypse bonding moments for them throughout the series.

Warnings - Canon typical violence, use of y/n like twice. Needles, blood, syringes, abandonment issues. Self worth issues. Mentions of skinniness due to lack of food (from the apocalypse my dudes)

Pairing - Five x Reader

Word count - 6k

To tell a story, one must have a character or set of characters to follow. They may not be reliable or entirely likable nor good-hearted or kind, they may not be evil or extraordinary but simply intriguing. Intriguing enough to hold the reader's attention, to keep them coming back for more. And that is Y/N, a girl born on a day where something extraordinary happened and if given any other power she would have been one to marvel over. 

But the babe was born with fingertips dosed in inky darkness and killed her mother during birth. Then her grandmother who held the babes pinky and so on. Eventually she was kept hidden with the help of one Reginald Hargreaves, who agreed that her power was too strong for the world to bear. So said girl lived her life underground with a robot as a mother (to keep her from accidentally killing her too) and eventually a robotic companion that was meant to resemble her age. 

Even through glitches and random updates she didn’t know what normal really was, so she never batted an eye. As she grew so did the darkness upon her fingertips until eventually it stopped at her elbows. She read every book given to her, watched every movie and show and held a strict physical regiment to keep her in shape. 

She learned just about every fighting style known to man thanks to the updates her mother was given and regularly ran in the underground garden. Her bunker was her life and she never thought it odd until she was 14. You see, all those movies and books showed a different life than hers, exciting ones that showed the ocean and the sun, the moon, stars. There was romance and friendships, adventures galore. Suddenly her life which was once fulfilling felt… suffocatingly dull. 

Neither her companion nor mother would let her out nor sympathize with her. They only tried to distract the girl from her growing desires. But such desires only grew and mixed with the rage of a preteen girl came a moment in her life she’d always remember, the moment when the monotony would finally end. They didn’t listen, they tried placating, and they tried deflecting. At one point they tried to make her feel crazy, but her textbooks and ways of entertainment showed proof of a different life. So finally when all that rage and loneliness finished brewing it came time to try to escape.  

She didn’t make it past the second steel door before a syringe was put in her neck. She awoke, she tried again, she was kept locked in a more secure room, no longer allowed to roam her bunker. So when her mother and companion came to visit on the 5th day she used her upbringing to her advantage and killed them. Twitching metallic limbs were scattered about the padded room, oil seeping out instead of blood and the sound of frying wires filling the air. 

Finally, from doing this, she met the man who built her bunker. He kept himself protected behind a wall of plexiglass, staring her down through his monocle with a disapproving glare. “You have caused quite the mess.” 

The young girl was sobbing, she had just killed the only people - no things she ever knew. She was a monster, a murderer. “I just want out, please let me out!” 

“I cannot do that child, your power is beyond my control. You were able to suppress the medicine I tried to give you and are not fit for normal ways of living.” 

His voice was cold and stern, in her already fragile state his lack of empathy only made her feel small. He only seemed to validate her worst fears. 

“I can offer you something though, a way out from this life. All you must do is step through those doors and into the chamber I’ve built for you. It will let you out, I promise.” 

The young girl, having never seen him before, didn’t know how this man was full of deceit. With barely anything else to do, she simply nodded through her tears. Whilst sniffling the girl followed his instructions and clambered into the small chamber. As she turned to face him, she realized how tiny it was and began to panic, but it was too late. Before she could even open her mouth to protest, the chamber door slammed shut and a gas filled the space. 

It seemed like only seconds before air flooded the chamber, ragged gasps escaping her cracked lips. The pain she felt was overwhelming, it flooded her body and felt as though she was being torn in two. As her eyes rapidly blinked, she found the glass of the chamber had shattered and all around her was clouded by smoke and dust. As the terrified girl tried to move, that sharp pain halted her movements, causing her to crumble onto the floor. 

Her hands and knees fell against the ground, shards of glass embedding into them and as the metallic taste flooded her mouth the young girl found a sharp metal stuck within her abdomen. Her once pristine white dress now drenched in blood and covered in smears of charcoal gray from the soot surrounding her. Blood dripped from her lips as she started to wheeze, her body falling the short distance onto the surrounding rumble. The icy grip of death was squeezing her and in her final moments she saw a pair of small and childlike leather loafers appear before her eyes. 

Seconds turned to minutes as a confused and heart wrenched Five watched the young girl die. The only living being he’s seen since arriving in the future a mere eight hours ago, has perished within seconds of being within his presence. His confusion only heightens as he takes in her hands and forearms, then stares at the science fiction esque chamber she seemed to have fallen out of. It looked like something out of the comic books his brothers read- or well-used to read now that they are dead. The thought only hurt him more, causing tears to fill the pubescent eyes. 

This odd looking girl had been stored in their family home, for how long? Five doesn’t know. But what he does know is his family is dead, and the world has ended, he’s seemingly alone and all he wishes to do is mourn his siblings. He takes a step backwards, planning on going back to their remains, (where he had spent the last six hours, sitting numbly among them) when a finger of hers twitches. 

At first, he thinks he must be hallucinating from all the fumes and exhaustion due to all the tears he’s cried, but then it happens again and then her left arm jerks inwards, curling around her stomach. He’s stunned as he watches the young girl begin to slowly lift herself into a sitting position, the large piece of metal once lodged in her abdomen just… falling onto the ground, drenched in her blood. 

The gaping hole begins to slowly mend itself as she wheezes and groans. Even all the tiny scratches across her body from the glass begin to heal and Five is left standing before some undead fourteen-year-old in a mixture of shock and awe. His siblings would probably be horrified and while he won’t say it out loud there is a small part of him that is; but that morbid curiosity of his kicks in and overpowers the dull horror ebbing through his brain. Suddenly it makes sense on how she survived an entire building collapsing on her and her near indestructible pod, how somehow whatever killed everyone else around him didn’t harm her. 

“What are you?” He utters in a scratchy (he has been crying and screaming for hours) and awe filled tone.  

Her nose scrunches, bloodied features full of fear and offense at his question. Those inky hands lay flat against the rubble as she pulls herself to stand, all wounds once leaking blood now closed and scabbed over. Her tone is soft and barely audible, as if almost scared to speak. “I’m just Y/N.” 

The duffle slung over her shoulder is threadbare and has millions of random holes across it that have been half hazardously stitched back together. The uncomfortable strap digs into her shoulder as the weight of her valuables bogs her down. Their last source of shelter ended up collapsing not too long ago and so the sixteen-year-olds are once more on the hunt for a new place to call home. So they walk along a road cluttered with trash and rubble, dilapidated buildings lining both sides and the scorching sun beating down on them. 

“What do you think we’ll find this time?” 

He huffs, “I don’t know, something with a roof preferably.” Five has a duffle too along with a cart full of heavier items like their jars of food they’ve collected, jugs of barely drinkable water and makeshift tools. 

The heat from the sun has made the girl drenched in sweat, body glistening and dirty, misshapen clothes stuck to her. Perhaps if she took her gloves off she’d feel a little better, but ever since discovering them she’s kept them on no matter the weather. 

A year into the apocalypse they found a department store, one where Five became rather enamored by a mannequin. As he spent the better of twenty minutes simply staring at that torsoless thing, she hunted for any clothes they might need. Anything that didn’t seem within their size she set aside to eventually make a blanket out of it and began to softly hum to herself. 

Finally, Five abandoned the mannequin and tossed something at the girl. A pair of elbow length black gloves. “Try those on,” he said as he began sifting through her pile of maybes. These were on the mannequin, she realized. The whole time she was worried about him losing it, and he came back with these instead of a new “friend.”  

The gloves were a bit big but not enough that she had to worry about them slipping off. The inside felt silky and due to the size they went just passed her elbow instead. “These will be nice when winter hits, I won’t have to worry about potentially freezing any fingers off this year.” 

“You should try touching the next rat we catch before we kill it… I have a theory that may help.” 

And they did help, tremendously. The girl was shocked all it took to stop her powers was some cheap fabric. Her heart squeezed with appreciation as she finally began feeling less terrified of being around anything living. It felt ironic in the beginning how she finally felt free from not only herself but the chains that she was metaphorically born with, after the world had ended. Almost everyone was dead and she was finally at peace. 

Now at sixteen she wears the same pair of gloves which now fit perfectly. There are holes and tears that have also been stitched with random thread that they scavenged throughout the years. Despite the fabric containing her undesired power, she finds herself hardly ever touching anything she wouldn’t want to kill. Anything that isn’t Five is food and well Five isn’t a very tactical person. There are a few nights each winter that they’ll huddle together for warmth, which he always makes a face about; but beyond that it’s more of a safety precaution. A ‘just in case I bump against you or need to grab you before you fall’ kind of thing.

As she stares at the dirtied gloves, a thought that’s always drifted through her mind bubbles to the surface once more. While they usually scavenge in silence to keep them focused for danger, today feels like an okay day to break that. There haven't been any accidents in a while, and typically they tend to be some sort of problem with herself. She’s fallen on rebar and been bitten by rabid rats, caught deathly flus and been the taste tester for water since the very day she fell out of what she can only assume was some type of cryochamber. 

“Why do you think he never thought to do this to me?” 

He eyes her for a second, brow raised. They both step over some debris, worn shoes knocking small rocks out of the way as he speaks. “What? End the world?” 

A cockroach skitters by and for a brief second they both watch it in concentrated silence. There’s a silent debate between them, eyes locked, on whether they should hunt it and kill. Five makes the first move of ignoring it and moving on. They have jars of food, and it’s not that big. Plus they don’t have the necessities to pickle it like they did in the past. 

“No dumbo.-“ He glares at her, “-give me gloves, so I couldn’t harm anyone. He could have saved so much time and money and I could have been one of you guys! One of the umbrella academy, going on missions and having a real family.” 

“What we had wasn’t exactly a proper family,” he starts. The girl sighs, thinking of what her family was. While his wasn’t normal either, it wasn’t as insane sounding as hers. “I’m guessing you can’t really make a toddler or even a young child keep the gloves on, no matter how much you stress the importance of them.” 

“Then he should have just killed me when he adopted me.” 

He stops all together which she doesn’t pick up at first, too busy surveying their surroundings for anything useful. So far it’s just more collapsed buildings and dust. Sometimes she thinks of the old westerns Thomas (her childhood companion) liked, and imagines a tumbleweed lightly dancing across the street ahead of them. 

“You think so?” Finally, she turns, noticing the distance between them and the girl just shrugs. He eyes her, gaze critical. They’ve been at this whole apocalypse thing for a while now and a major part of staying alive has been having one another. Yes he has the motivation of seeing his family again to help keep him going, but it’s been her that’s helped keep him off that delicious looking precipice of madness. 

“I do, if he couldn’t trust me to simply keep some gloves on then he should have killed me. Obviously I was too dangerous for the world, and yet he wouldn’t just do the one thing that was probably best for everyone involved. I mean do you think he adopted me, realized my power and just shoved me in the bunker? Or do you think maybe he tried alternatives first?”

He rubs his face which is already smeared in dust and dirt, his hair is tangled and long and beyond greasy. She knows hers doesn’t look any better. It’s been a while since they’ve found anything sharp, the last sharp thing they had was a broken bottle that they used as a makeshift knife. It didn’t last long. 

“I think despite his cold nature, killing a baby was too heartless of a task even for the old man.” He finally walks again, stopping at her side. Neither move, simply staring at one another. “I don’t know why he kept you in there, maybe we can figure that out when we get back.” 

Despite his insistence of them returning, she finds herself hardly believing it. She’s never told him how she doubts him, worried it will cause a rift between the two. The idea of rocking the delicate balance between them has always been at the back of her mind. Sometimes she wakes in the middle of the night from a horrible dream of him abandoning her, claiming she’s too much of a liability or something. 

“You have caused quite the mess.”

It loops in her brain like clockwork, constantly there to remind her of the life she once lived. Even if they were robots, she killed the only two companions she ever had, and she wonders if Five has ever judged her for it. 

“Yeah,” she says in a slightly dejected, half-hearted tone. “Maybe.” 

Around her twenties, something happens. She’s not quite sure how or why, but she stops aging. Five continues to age as time drags on and she stays relatively the same. They theorize that it must be because of her whole ‘not dying’ shtick which then just springs forth a new panic inside her. She’s always worried about Five somehow dying but now no matter what she’ll end up alone. Because even if she wraps him in bubble wrap and always takes good care of him, he will die and she won’t. There is no old age for her and there most likely never will be. She can do everything in her power to keep him alive but one day he will die, and she will be eternally alone in this fiery hellscape. It’s befitting, she guesses, due to his nickname for her being Death. 

Death will be stuck in hell completely by herself because death always takes from others so why should it be given something in return. Why should it have companionship or a happy ending of some sort? 

They’ve grown closer recently, it’s odd and comforting all at once. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that they’ve managed to make a somewhat stable makeshift shelter. They’ve spent two and a half years there and just recently have come across a small packet of potato seeds. There’s little hope anything will grow but that small piece of happiness has caused them both to briefly stop thinking of what needs to be done next to keep from dying. 

They’re thirties now, or well she’s still physically twenty, and have recently been reading together at night. They huddle by their fire as the autumn chill sets in, and he reads a few passages before the flames die down. Shoulders bump and sometimes their heads lean against one another. He’s grown to be handsome in her eyes, and she wonders if she’d still think that if others were around. 

One day, after the embers dwindle and a cold breeze drifts through the cracks within their makeshift home, something odd occurs. Within the darkness she makes out his eyes still open as they huddle together, surveying her features. When they make eye contact he clears his throat and shifts to look at the metal sheet ceiling they’ve concocted. 

“What is it?” Death whispers. It’s not great to be loud at night, as time went on the rats got bigger and as did the roaches. They’ve become a sort of predator for them and while both are excellent fighters neither wants to deal with some sort of altercation this late at night. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he coldly responds. Ahh, so she gets to deal with defensive Five. The one who deflects and tries to turn it around on her. It’s funny and kinda cute that despite all the years that they’ve spent together, he still thinks he can lie to her. 

“You were staring at me,” she turns to her side to face him, trying and failing to hide a smirk. Her hands are flat underneath her head to act as a cushion against the flattened pillow she’s been using for the last six years. 

“You have dirt on your face.” 

“I always have dirt on my face-“ 

“Yeah well,” he drawls, “you have more than usual.” 

In a flash she turns to the other side, hand digging into the dirt nearby and smears it across his face. His mouth is gapping open, and she can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. He clamps a hand over her mouth and for a moment, they stare into each other's eyes in silence as they wait to hear for any nearby creatures. His eyes are wide with anger and his grip against her mouth is rough, but she’s not scared. She could never be scared of him. 

They stay like that even once it’s clear they aren’t in danger. His grip on her mouth softens slightly but neither diverts their gaze. It almost feels like a contest on who can wimp out first. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” he mutters, his voice so soft it’s almost lost to the howling wind. “That’s what I was looking at.” 

Deaths mouth drops open as his hand falls away. 

“Oh.”

Her bravado is lost, and she feels something tighten within her chest. Her heart is beating rapidly, like whenever they're in danger, but they aren’t. She vaguely remembers watching heroines in romance movies describe this type of thing, this sort of rattling within her abdomen and sudden clamminess of the palms. 

“And your lips,” he starts- 

“What about them?” She whispers, far too nervous to let him continue without responding first.

“They suit your face perfectly.” His thumb comes to rest on her lower lip, and he slightly pulls at it. The woman’s breath hitches and unconsciously scoots closer to him. Their chests are touching as they lay on their sides, due to the closeness her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand that’s now moving to gently cradle her face. 

“And I can’t stop thinking about them. Even when we’re in danger, I’m not focusing on the task at hand because all I can think about is your lips.” 

She surges forward, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against his own. He tastes of dirt and the saltiness of his sweat, but she doesn’t mind, she’s sure she tastes the same. It’s awkward and their teeth clash against one another, saliva dribbling down their chins and their touching each other everywhere they can think of. It’s messy and not romantic at all, holding this sense of life ending urgency. Like if she doesn’t kiss him until she can’t breathe then she’ll finally experience true mortality. 

Eventually they reluctantly pull apart, both gasping for breath as their noses bump against one another. He’s still cradling her face and her grip on his forearm is bruising, as if worried he might pull away with regret. 

“Esattamente come immaginavo” he whispers. She can’t help the smile that breaks out across her lips, nor the happy little sigh that escapes her. She kisses him again, and again and again. He indulges each one. 

She breathes the words against his lips, his fingers now gripping her hip to hold her close. It’s hard to concentrate with his thigh pressed against her. “Come lo hai immaginato?” She finally breathes out. 

“Perfetto.”

More years pass, that same shelter still works as their home, even if it is quite rickety. There’s a makeshift shelf lined with pickled roaches or rats and there’s new support poles throughout. With Fives age she does most of the intensive work now, which he hates and there’s always an argument about it. They are as close as can be though, despite everything and despite the wrinkles littering his face or the slight graying of his hair. She loves him, and he loves her in their own twisted little way. 

One day someone appears and breaks their routine. A woman who goes by the title of “The Handler,” explains the commission to them and its mission. Then she pitches a cushy contract to them and while Five hymns and haws over it, Death is about ready to sign on the dotted line. It’s not that she doesn’t understand the risks or thinks it’ll be enjoyable, but it’s out of this apocalyptic wasteland, and it gives Five a chance to live longer. If they get out of here they can retire in their original timeline and get the medical care he may need in his old age. 

Eventually, he concedes, and they leave behind what they’ve known as home for more than half their lives. It’s weird, being part of society again. At least for Five. Death was never fully part of society to begin with so it’s more of a whole panic inducing experience for her. They are given a small living space which consists of a queen bed and an en-suite bathroom. There’s a kitchenette against one wall with a small metal table that has two chairs pushed underneath it. Five says it looks like a motel straight outta the ‘50s. The Handler tells them that’s the current decade they are in. 

Proper clothes and toiletries are given to them and the first time she showers since before her cryochamber is an experience. The hot water hits her back and seemingly melts her hair, turning it from a ratty mess to complete wetness that hangs down her back. The woman hasn’t had a hair cut since she was a child and as she climbs out of the shower she realizes how much hair she currently possesses. A towel is wrapped tightly around her when there’s a knock on the bathroom door, and she cautiously opens it to let Five in. 

He whistles as he takes her in. Beads of water trail down her body and for once there’s not a speck of dirt on her. She spent forever scrubbing at every crevice and callous on her body, trying to rid herself of decades worth of dirt and survival. Her hands tightly grip the towel, afraid to be near him without her gloves. The commission took their old clothes away, claiming they were just trash now. She was promised new clothes and new gloves, but it hurt to part from the hole infested pair gifted to her by her partner. 

“You look like a whole new woman,” he states. She looks down at her body, all skin, and bones from feasting on scraps for so long. She can’t hold back the chuckle that leaves her. 

“I guess so,” she claims. He’s clean now too, even his beard is gone and all that’s left is a mustache. She’s shocked, he’s had one for so long. They’d try to cut it whenever they could to keep him cleanly but even then it’s not like they could do much. She grabs a pair of scissors from the counter and carefully hands them to him, holding her breath as she watches him take them from her. “Will you cut my hair?” 

Five is shocked, it seems the idea of her cutting her long mane never crossed his mind. But if they are going to be assassins then she needs to be practical and there’s no need for such excessive amounts of hair now that they have access to proper scissors. It’s quiet as he cuts, there’s the faint sound of some old song playing in the background, most likely from the little radio on their dresser. She can hear the snip of the metal each time he cuts away a chunk of her past, the weight slowly lessening. It’s symbolic in a way, as if it’s him shutting the door on that part of their life. 

Time drones on, many songs pass and neither of them speak. Eventually he turns her to him, careful to keep her away from the mirror. She watches him with bated breath, realizing now that maybe he won’t like her with shorter hair. It never crossed her mind, it’s only ever been them so the idea that he may suddenly lose interest just seemed… impossible. 

He snips at a few strands close to her face, her initial reaction being to jerk away which he just tuts at her for. Finally, she stays still, and he finishes his work with a few more snips. After slowly setting the scissors down he takes her in, a smile slowly creeping into his thinning lips. “Bellísimo“ he whispers. 

He always flirts with her in Italian, it causes her to flush. With all the dirt gone and the lights of the bathroom shining down on her, only a towel covering her naked frame, she suddenly feels insecure. She’s never felt that around him, never felt the need really. It was never about being pretty, there wasn’t time for pretty. But now there sort of is and there are the resources for it too. 

He turns her to the mirror and the woman before her isn’t apocalyptic Death. This is the new her, fresh into society and ready to kill anyone necessary for her. She hopes that she comes to like who she sees in the mirror, or at least recognize her. Right now it seems like a hollowed out stranger with bags under her eyes and a bony form. But she will admit, Five is a good hairdresser. 

The commission is smart, that she will give them. They hardly ever assign her and Five on missions together. They become ships passing in the night, barely seeing one another for an hour or so at a time before they are rushing off in a new mission, after a new target. Furthermore, they give her new silky black gloves and The Handler has dubbed her “The Belladonna” because she’s stealthy like a poison and quick like one too. Efficient and always out of sight. She loses count of the people she’s killed, at this point it’s instinctual to take off her gloves and just touch whenever need be. The horror of watching someone drop-dead mere moments later soon wears off, and instead she’s left feeling emptier each time. 

Five has always been trying to figure out how to get home, but now with the technology of the commission he’s really started cracking down on it. She tries to help when she can, offering insight and even solving one of the various problems. It’s late one night, a rare one where they are both in their room together. 

He’s got a drink in his hand, and she’s in one of his shirts with her gloves on. They’ve got papers scattered across the floor with various formulas and her brain hurts from all this thinking. She just got back from a mission, having successfully killed eight people who were at risk of disrupting the timeline. It was easy until the end, one slipped away and a chase began. She eventually got him but had to pull her gun on him which has always been her least favorite way to do it. It’s not like she’s bad at it, quite the contrary, but it’s messy. It’s brutal and suddenly it seems more impactful. With a simple touch they choke and freeze, then fall to the ground and boom! Dead. With a gun there’s a struggle and so much blood, there’s gasping and wheezing and pleads for a second chance. She feels less human every time she pulls the trigger. 

“What about your age?” She randomly asks. He’s sat on the edge of the bed and her question has his gaze whipping away from the papers to her pacing form. “I mean, if we can travel to the correct time to fix the apocalypse from happening then maybe we can do something about your age.” 

“What’s wrong with my age?” a white brow is raised and she sighs. She’s never really voiced her fear to him, worried he might end up becoming offended. In all honesty old age suits him, he’s always acted like an old man. Crotchety, opinionated with sarcasm dripping from his tone. He’s the kind who’d probably sit on his porch and yell at kids to get off his lawn. 

Death walks over to him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. They lock eyes, and she knows it’s time to finally tell him. “You’ll die in a couple of decades, and I’ll most likely still be a twenty-something year old woman. If we manage to get back to your family's timeline and retire then… Shouldn’t we be given the chance at a proper life together?” 

“What like kids and a house? I didn’t peg you for the whole suburban life.” 

She scoffs, eyes practically rolling into the back of her head. “No, I’m not talking about the whole white picket fence shebang.”

“I’m talking about us building a home together, finding a place with big windows in the living room that we’ll place two armchairs by so we can read in the sunlight. We’ll buy enough books to fill up a whole wall with them and a bar cart with your favorite spirits always stocked up.”

“We’ll get serious business-esque jobs and on the weekends we’ll lay in bed for an extra hour, cuddling or making love. You’ll get more time with not only me but your whole family too. Don’t you want that?” 

It’s quiet for far too long as he contemplates her words, his eyes scanning over her features before looking at the mess of papers behind her. She can tell he’s doing the logistics in his head, weighing the pros and cons. His hands rest on her hips, and she gently straddles his lap, her arms linking around his neck to keep him close. 

“It’ll complicate the formula even more,” he softly observes. “We’re so close to finishing this. I can tell.” 

Her hands slide up to cup the back of his head. She can’t help but frown as he lets her down, her heart squeezing as she thinks of what’s down the road. “Please, we’re both smart, and can easily figure it out. It’s just a couple extra numbe-“ 

“Death-“ 

“Please,” she practically begs, her hands tangling in his hair and slightly tugging. “I can’t go live a normal life if you aren’t part of it.” 

“I miss them, they’re my family, and they need me.”

She’s losing him, the wall is slowly going up, and she’s desperately trying to jump over it before the finality sets in. “What about me, don’t I need you too? Don’t we need each other I mean we survived the apocalypse together for fuck's sake!” 

“And I spent the entire time thinking about getting back to them. Surviving for them.” 

He doesn’t mean too, she knows that deep down, but his words cut her deeply. A wound on her barely beating heart is forming, and he’s just staring at her with a hardened expression. 

Her eyes well with unshed tears, voice quivering as she speaks. “What about me, about us? Didn’t you survive for me too?” 

It’s silent for two beats, then three and then four. They just stare at each other waiting for one to relent. Both of them are so stubborn and so set in their plan. She knows this is a pipe dream, but she was still holding out hope until this very moment. He thickly swallows and she just knows.

The wall is fully between them now. She couldn’t make the jump. His mind is made up, and she’s scared to hear what he’ll say. “I think I should go alone. There are less numbers if it’s just me.” 

And that scratch, that wound, only deepens. It’s a crater now, and she fears there’s very little of her heart left functioning. She’s died a million times, been stabbed in every place imaginable, contracted various deadly illnesses, died from fire and hypothermia and yet now, this hurts far more than all of those combined. She climbs off of him like his touch is hurting her and aggressively wipes at her eyes. 

“I didn’t realize I was hindering you so much-“ 

“I didn’t say that. I’m just sa-“ 

“I heard you loud and clear. If my presence is such a bother then I think I’ll request a different room.” She pulls on a pair of pants and quickly slips her feet into a pair of slippers. He just watches her too, doesn’t jump up to stop her. All this time she’s worried about what would happen if she voiced her thoughts, and it turns out her fears were warranted. All it took was her asking for something for once, begging for something even, for him to shut her out. 

Five is selfish and cold-hearted, and he doesn’t love her like she loves him. He’s a man obsessed with one mission only, and she bets he won’t even like his family once he gets there. He just wants to be some kind of hero to them, to prove to himself that he can be the savior. To make up for his absence all those years. 

With the click of the door, she severs the only love she’s ever known and changes the course of her life. 

[hotheadedhero]

hey so how do you think 2003 or 2012 Leo would deal with a super sweet yet fiesty s/o? Like he is in their house and he apologises for breaking in, he just needed a safe haven to relax and s/o is like casually “If it was anyone else I’d beat them up, but you can break into my house any time you want. I actually trust you”?

AN: We going with 03! The wheel has spoken :P

Exception

Leonardo x Reader

What a week. As far as cleaning the streets of criminal activity goes, it’s been one of the hardest to date. At every turn, there are muggings, burglary, vandalism, all around chaos. You name it. Pure, unbridled chaos and every time the boys think they’re safe to rest up for five minutes, something else pops up and they’re back at it. By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense. New York isn’t without its delinquency but these rates are bizarre even by their standards. If this is all part of a bigger picture then they’ve got some big fish to fry.

As it would turn out, it was: a large-scale operation by a nameless syndicate, orchestrated in the hopes of tiring out the turtles beyond their threshold. If they’re too overworked to engage in their usual vigilante-ing, thieves and rogue punks alike could swarm the streets without having to worry about capture. It would have worked, too, were it not for one of the crooks and his blabbermouth. They can thank Casey and his questionable scare tactics for that one. Who’s to judge when it gets results?

Regardless, the boys couldn’t wait to settle down back home. Leonardo more so than anyone else. He’s ready to sit down with some candles and mentally scrub himself of this strenuous endeavour. The problem with that, however, is that his siblings have their own unique choices of downtime and they’re not exactly the quietest. Machinery hums on one side of the room, occasionally accompanied by shrieking metal. The other side of the lair vibrates with the heavy boom of hip-hop. Even the gentle click-clack of knitting needles just across from his is grating on the ears. He can typically drown out the sounds of his brothers but he’s worn to the point that even meditation won’t do the trick. There’s only one thing for it: he needs to get some air. Better yet, he needs to see you. It’s been far too long. 

Before dating, you both knew there would be nights and even stretches of such where you would go without seeing one another. Plans can change last minute if trouble is afoot. Dates cancelled for the sake of pedestrian safety. That being said, these last half a dozen days have been the longest length of time you’ve endured without each other. Maybe he could surprise you with his return. You’d think he learned from the times he and his brothers have unexpectedly crashed April’s that, that would be a bad idea. This is you, though. Arguably, you’re a bit more temperamental at times but he knows your soft spot for him could trump that. Probably.

Without thinking of the possible ramifications, he trudges along to your apartment. Albeit, it’s taking a lot longer to get than normal. He’s aware of how drained he is but walking through the sewers shouldn’t be this difficult. He’ll be thankful when he finally reaches you. Perhaps he’ll even be lucky enough to lay dead in your arms if he hasn’t pushed his luck by barging in unprompted. He quietly chuckles at himself, knowing you’d call him out for being such a sap.

Leo finally makes it to the manhole cover and pushes it off with some strain. The weight of it burns his muscles, nearing the point of shaking. Nonetheless, he drives through and lets out a breath when it clangs against the tarmac. Not his most graceful of exits but he supposes he can be excused at least this once. The extra ache is worth it for the sweet wave of serenity that washes over him when he sees your window. It’s a dim light. No doubt it’s from your living room lava lamp - the one with the orange wax that emits this gentle, pink-amber glow. It’s reminiscent of a sun-kissed sky that you can enjoy in the sanctuary of your own home. He likes that one. You always turn it on when the city enters night; when you want the sunset to last just that little while longer.

Without wanting to lose another second, he carefully positions the manhole cover back in place and advances up your fire escape. He peeks through your window on the off chance he might catch you. When you’re nowhere to be found, he slides the glass up and climbs through as quietly as his irritated legs will allow him. He’s about to call your name when something suddenly hits him on the head.

“Ow!” he yells out and rubs on the sore spot. The main lights flick on and there you are, standing in a readied pose with your bat raised high. “Couldn’t you do that in a batting cage or something?”

“Leo?” Your eyes gape wide as your stance falters.

In the dully lit room, all you saw was a figure. A figure sneaking into your home. It could have been anyone or anything. Obviously, your first port of call was to take action. Befriending and even dating one of the city’s self-proclaimed saviours means potential for a target on your head. There’s no telling who or what could come for you should they want to lure the turtles in with live bait. What you hadn’t anticipated was your loving turtle in blue to be the one tiptoeing into your apartment. You prop the bat on your shoulder and lean on the wall with the other.

“Ever heard of a phone?” you ask through a playful murmur.

One corner of his lips turns up into a coy smile and he laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, it’s been a long week.”

You have half a mind to remind him why breaking into someone’s home in a crime-infested New York is a recipe for disaster but he looks beat enough as is. Whilst you haven’t had much of a chance to talk this past week, you’re more than aware of what he’s had to deal with. If he’s here now, that must mean it’s been officially dealt with and taken care of. Good thing, too, because it seems like he could drop at any given moment. Oh. The baseball. Your boyfriend has been working himself to the bone and you’ve just whacked him in the face with a baseball. 

Bashfully, you click your tongue and glance away. There are definitely better ways to greet your significant other. It’s likely he’ll use this against you when he’s feeling particularly cheeky in the future but you won’t worry about that now. You push your body off the wall and point at him with your baton.

"If it was anyone else, they'd be a bloody pulp by now." You prop the bat on the wall and turn away to your kitchen with a shrug. "But, sure, break in any time you want. You're lucky I trust you."

Your words hold a sarcastic nature, almost satirical, but he knows you mean well. The meaning behind them holds a sweetness. An apology wouldn’t have gone amiss but he did technically break in. He’ll hold his hands up and admit fault. Permission has been given at least. Not that he thinks he needed it before but if it saves him another bruise, it’s a win.

You truly love your friends to pieces but, if you’re being honest, they have their individual set of havocs they’d thrust upon your home were it them in place of your boyfriend. Raph the least, ironically enough, but his sai have a nasty habit of poking holes in your couch any time he sits down. Donnie often has a gadget on him you'd be too fearful of setting your furniture on fire. As for Mikey? He’s a food fiend who can and will deplete you of all your snacks. Let's not forget Casey but he’s a walking health and safety hazard if ever you met one. His visiting rights have been revoked after what he did to your Christmas ornaments and it’s the last time you’ve ever and will host for the holidays. You don’t like to talk about it. So, yeah, if there's any one person who can freely invite themself to your home, it's the turtle you love most.

When you’ve finished packing a cloth with ice, you sit Leonardo down and hold it to his head. His face scrunches up before easing and he smiles at you softly. This may not have turned out to be the romantic surprise he thought it would be but he’s glad to be back in your presence - in your home surrounded by personifications of your selfdom. 

“That was a good shot, by the way,” he compliments, sporting that impertinent grin you’d expected.

Your teeth clasp down on your bottom lip, fighting an annoyed smile. “Don’t give me an excuse to use your shell as target practice,” you warn but the following kiss to his bruise reveals your empty threat. “But, thanks. Sorry for hitting you in the first place.”

His brows raise at you. “I’m sure you could make it up to me.”

You hum in response and shove the ice pack in his face. Your choice to tend to his wounds after he impolitely infringed on you is you making it up to him. Ungrateful pinhead. He’s lucky you love him. Very lucky indeed.

[the-broken-truth]

Platonic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Twin Brother Who's Had Enough With Him [Part 2]

Summary: Your brother has gone too far - chasing your wife away from your house, controlling your missions in the Spider-Society, and now breaking into your house and telling you you have no right to live your own life. You've had enough of him and his controlling ways. While escaping from Miguel, you decide to head to your Wife's Parents' House and tell her that you are cutting off your brother...but what happens when you find your Wife's Parents tied up with red webbing and your wife missing? This...is not good.

[Earth-928 / Nueva York / Lydia's House]

[Name] webbed his rope of web to the apartment complex where Lydia's Parents lived - her car was in the driveway so she must have been there. The lights were on suggesting that someone was awake and he was going to speak to his wife and tell her that he was cutting ties with his brother, leaving the Spider-Society, and starting a new life with her and her alone. He landed in front of the door and deactivated his suit when he made sure that no one was around before he entered the apartment complex. He walked up the stairs and entered the second floor where Lydia was currently staying when he noticed one of the doors was completely ajar; that was Lydia's parents' home! He darted to the door and pushed it open, causing the couple, tied to two chairs with red webbing and gagged with a cloth to keep them silent. [Name] quickly ran to them and fell to his knees, before ripping the cloth out of their mouths and began untying them.

"Mr. & Mrs. Banks! What happened! Where is Lydia?!" [Name] asked in a panicked voice.

"He...He took her! Spider-Man 2099 came out of nowhere, tied us up, and took our daughter without saying a single word to us. Please, you have to save Lydia! She and the baby are all that matter!" Mrs. Banks said, that made [Name's] eyes widen in horror.

"Baby? What baby?" [Name] asked with tears coming down his face.

"Lydia didn't tell you? She's pregnant." Mr. Banks said as he rose from his seat and rubbed his wrists.

[Name] looked at the ground with wide eyes, his wife-to-be was pregnant and his brother had her! He knew how much his brother hated Lydia but would he hurt her enough to...too... Wait, did he know that she was pregnant?! He needed to move! [Name] shot from his knees and ran out of the room, down the stairs, and turned on his suit before webbing back to the Spider-Society - whatever he was planning to do to Lyida, he was going to be there.

[Spider-Society / Labartory]

"Please! Please, let me go, Miguel. I never did anything to you, I didn't betray your brother." Lydia cried as she watched Miguel fill a Syringe with a clear liquid before he flicked the needle and turned to face Lydia.

"You...are a distraction for my brother, you are talking to him, taking his attention away from me, where it belongs. Now, you're pregnant with his child - another distraction. I'm going to get rid of you both and make sure that he knows that he belongs to me and me alone." Miguel said as he began walking towards Lydia - who was strapped to a chair with her arms and legs secured but she struggled. Miguel was close to her and pointed to the needle at her arm before a web connected with the body of the needle and yanked it out of Miguel's hand, making it shatter against the wall, Miguel looked behind him and saw [Name] standing there with his eyes full of anger with tears running down his face.

"Miguel...you dare! You dare try to kill my wife and my baby! Have you lost your fucking mind?!" [Name] roared at his crazy brother, who just smiled at him.

"All of this is going to be for your good. You need to let big brother handle all of this and everything will go back to normal." Miguel said as he walked over to [Name] with his arms out - as if he wanted a hug. But the moment he got close, [Name] shot his fist out and socked his brother in the face, sending him spiraling to the ground before he shot webs at him to keep him still. [Name] ran to Lydia and unstrapped her before pulling her into his arms in a tight hug. [Name] grabbed Lydia's hand and ran out of the room while Miguel struggled against the webs.

"[NAME]! BRING THAT BITCH BACK HERE! YOU DON'T BELONG TO HER, YOU BELONG TO ME! [NAME]!" Miguel said as he started ripping the web off of himself before he got up and chased after them - he was going to get rid of Lydia and keep his little brother safe, no matter what.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Smile for Me

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki was a perfectionist, and after all the mistakes he made he pushed himself even harder to earn his place as an Avenger. So when his first mission goes wrong he's going to need a lot of help from his darling to cheer you up.

☆ Word Count: 5,059 words

☆ Notes: Sad Loki, injured reader and Loki, cheer up tickles for Loki as requested.

☆ Warnings: Needle shot, stab wound (but it's not described in detail don't worry). Loki angst. Cheer up tickles aren't encouraged without the lee's consent. Reader is a bit insistent about it but it's my fic and I choose how to tickle my baby.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He had planned it so carefully.

After months of earning the trust of the Avengers, months behaving like a top elite agent, and a lot of support of his brother Loki had finally been assigned his own team.

It had taken him so long, and so much effort… And it all went down in a few minutes.

One small mistake and they were detected. And as the cherry on this cake of mystery. You —who he wanted to protect the most— had been injured.

You and Loki had been dating for a while now. None would suspect a thing when you first met. But you had not only broken Loki’s walls, but you had him wrapped around your fingers and he was utterly and helplessly devoted to you. And for a while there wasn’t a single mission when you weren’t at least a duo.

But you had reawakened a hunger in him he thought lost for a while. He wanted command, but not the kind he used to want as a king.

Usually how missions went depended on the category. If it was an undercover mission, the teams were small and even two agents sufficed, Loki was sent to a lot of those, given his illusions saved months of infiltration. If it was an invasion to an enemy base most Avengers presented themselves to battle to make things easier, those were chaotic. If it was a rescue mission things got more complicated and there were several teams organized for fighting, one to retrieve information (and it was openly stated so, to avoid agreements between team leaders), and a rescue team to get the hostages.

And Loki wanted exactly that last bit. He wanted his own team for missions.

He worked for months, behaving perfectly during missions, working beyond diligently. Every mission he went to, was a mission with zero casualties and practically perfect success rate. Several months of training his body to regulate his strength to fight earthlings while not settling and trying to improve as well, which meant highly demanding training regimes, and staying up late to develop new spells that could help on missions.

And it all paid off the day he was officially named an Avenger, which meant it was a matter of time until he was assigned his own team for a mission.

That night you both had celebrated with a nice dinner.

“For the newest Avenger” you cheered elegantly as you raised your glass of wine. “And for the missions where you’ll be assigned your first team.”

“For the lovely mortal that made it possible” he smiled at you seductively.

“I didn’t do anything, it was your effort, Loki” you laughed softly. “It’s a great achievement.”

“Darling, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have even tried to achieve anything” he spoke as his tone carried a particular mix of pride and solemnity. “I hope I can be a man you can be proud of one day.”

“I’ve always been proud of you, but yes, this is yet another reason to be proud of my amazing boyfriend.”

“I like the phrasing of that” he said with a smug grin. “But seriously, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“What did I do?”

“I wouldn’t have had the patience to follow anyone’s orders if you had been always paired up with me” he said playing with his glass as you laughed. “You’re the only reason I have to behave.”

“Okahahay, looking at it that way I suppose you’re right” you giggled in that way that made Loki’s heart flutter.

“Oh now you believe me, do you?” he chuckled.

“It’s not my fault it’s part of your nature to misbehave” you grinned at him, “but I quite like that about you, it makes my day more interesting.”

Loki could feel his heart jumping around in his chest like he had seen happen in the cartoon shows you liked. Something about dating you made his feelings go crazy at the simplest of things, like being told you were proud of him made him feel like a little kid. But of course, even though he had let some of those feelings out, this was an elegant restaurant and he had to keep appearances.

He simply bit his bottom lip and smiled.

“Well, I’ll be sure to make every day interesting.”

“Oh please, no.” you sighed, but the smile on your face always reassured him you weren’t genuinely upset, “I like dying my hair as much as the next guy, but I the potion on my shampoo to make it change with my emotions was bad enough.”

“Oh but the red looked so lovely with the blush of anger on your cheeks” Loki laughed.

You gently kicked his shin from under the table with a frown, yet a pretty reluctant smile adorned your features.

“You love me” he sighed.

“I do love you” you smiled.

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. But it all happened so fast.

The mission was going well, Loki had been informed he’d lead the intel gather team for the next mission. Of course, you could be found among the agents under his command as his second in command. He chose a couple of other fine agents Loki had had good chemistry when he worked with them on previous missions.

“Darling, search for the file, I’ll take my men to search for physical archives” Loki ordered, “these two will stay with you and look after you.”

But he had been too careless. One wrong step, a turn in the wrong direction and…

He heard the deafening sound of a gunshot and a hard push that pinned him to the ground, and he felt a sharp pain by his clavicle.

“It’s an ambush!” he heard someone scream.

His vision blurred and he heard you screaming, and what seemed like weapons clanking and more shots. Before everything faded to black.

He woke up hours later, back in the Quinjet, and besides the pain on his chest, and a throbbing headache one could say the young Asgardian was fine.

But what he saw made him wish otherwise.

Most of his men were wounded, one of them quite severely and was already being treated so he wouldn’t bleed to death… and you… Norns, you. You were leaning back on your seat with blood stained bandaged along your ribs. Weakly making what seemed like an amicable conversation with Rogers.

But the second your eyes met his you stood up as quickly as you could to get to him. It broke his heart to see you limping.

“Loki! You’re okay!” you sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. “I was so worried.”

Loki didn’t have the courage to speak, he felt unworthy of talking to you after you had gotten hurt because he had been a lousy leader.

“Brother!” Thor also walked to him. “Thank goodness you’re awake!”

“What happened?” he asked.

“You were ambushed” Rogers said to him. “A response team was waiting for your arrival, they surrounded you and knocked you out so they could take out the rest of your team.”

“Luckily Thor and Bruce were still close and managed to break the wall to get us out quick” you sighed.

Thor nodded in a supportive way as the scientist waved with an awkward smile as he was changing to a shirt that wasn’t torn to shreds.

“What worries us is that injection they shot you, brother” Thor continued. “It’s a powerful sedative, capable to knock out Gods. Or Banner, maybe.”

“Hey, don’t get me involved!” Bruce said from his end of the room. “I’m a man as any other!”

“Yeah, a man that destroys a building because someone took his favorite mug for tea.” You mumbled, which, under other circumstances would’ve made Loki laugh.

“Where’s the—” Loki gasped, remembering something important.

“I’m sorry, Loki.” Rogers said sadly, and you shamefully pulled out a destroyed USB.

No intel had been retrived. His first mission had failed.

The way home seemed endless. And the way you subtly clenched your side when you thought he wasn’t looking was tortuous. Once you arrived to the Compound you were greeted by the other Avengers that went to treat the wounded and… well… Now, it was time for a dreaded scolding.

Fury was waiting in the meeting room on the head seat with his hands pressed against the desk and his head hanging as his chest was heaving with anger. Loki never really feared Fury, but he wasn’t excited to hear him scream at him while the headache still troubled him.

“Care to tell me what happened?” Fury asked in a fake patient tone.

Before Loki could open his mouth, you took a step forward.

“It was me, I broke the USB during the fight and I—”

“Zip it, non-bleeding people only.” Fury interrupted you before turning back to the younger God. “You were negligent and a poor leader and even your sweetheart was injured in the kerfuffle.”

“I was shot—”

“So was most of your god damn unit! Your little sidekick here was stabbed as well trying to fill in for what was most of your job—”

“Who fights with swords these days anyway?” you grumbled, and Nat gave you a little pat on the shoulder as she opened your uniform to put on bandages. “Must have been take your anime merch to work day…”

“It’s not your mistake, it was his who couldn’t keep his unit intact. Thank whatever you Gods pray to that no one was killed under your command.”

“Director Fury, he was shot with a dose of Black Lotus” Steve intervened.

Fury’s expression changed for a fraction of a second, his anger turning into concern as he looked at the spot Loki had bandaged around his clavicle. Black Lotus was a deadly drug on humans, just the smell did what it did to Loki, and the smallest doses were already paralyzing for anyone on Earth, but since the arrival of Asgardians to Earth, there had been several reports of it spreading on the Black Market.

But the mission had failed regardless. The list of underground criminals hadn’t been lost. It also didn’t help that it was the first failed mission in a good while, so they had gotten used to just getting a little praise and be on their way until the next mission.

“In any case you were the team leader, and the mission failed and given they were under your command, this result, and the state of your men is your responsibility. You are removed from your new position as team leader and suspended from missions until further notice—”

“What?!” you and Thor screamed. Loki just clenched his jaw as he miraculously managed to hold eye contact with the man scolding him.

“And will be subjected to investigation for potential treason.” Fury finished.

“WHAT?!”

“Director Fury, this isn’t fa—”

“You’re all dismissed.” Fury said firmly. “…Go treat the wounded.”

Something about that last part sounded vaguely defeated. But by that point Loki had already fled the room.

He slammed the door of the room as he walked in and dramatically left himself collapse on the couch, hiding his face behind his head as he hunched over to let the weight of his head on his knees.

Of course it was his fault. It was his mission. He should’ve known better, he should been better. If it had been impossible to ear everyone’s trust this would undo months of work to make the Avengers trust him. They would all be thinking this was exactly what he had been planning, all to sabotage them and tear them apart from the inside.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but soon the door gently opened and soon two gentle hands had made their way to his shoulders gently massaging them in a familiar way. After a few minutes of your tender care and he left his curled-up position to lean against the back of the couch with a long sigh.

“I love it when you do that” he hummed.

“You seemed like you could use the attention” you smiled.

“If I’m perfectly honest, today I really do…” he said breathlessly.

“That bad?” you asked as you kissed his cheek.

“You were there, love. You saw how it went” he groaned. “I’m suspended from missions, and I’ll be under investigation.”

“It’s only a protocol, you have nothing to hide, it’s gonna be fine.  

You sighed and wrapped your arms around him in a hug that nearly made him melt.

“It wasn’t you fault, Loki.”

“Again, you were there. Everyone thinks otherwise.” He huffed.

“Not everyone” you assured him, kissing his cheek once again.

“You never think wrong of me, that doesn’t count.”

“One: Ouch, I do count. Two: I didn’t mean just me, after you left it became a source of debate whether you or Fury were right.” You spoke. “I hadn’t heard of a disagreement so divided since the Sokovia Accords.”

Loki scoffed out a humorless laugh and sighed.

“Sure thing, darling” he said sarcastically.

When you didn’t respond, you turned to look at you and the pout you were giving him almost made him feel better. Almost.

“I’m sorry, little dove” he said as he caressed your cheek with his index finger. “You know I’m not upset with you, don’t you?”

“I know…” you nodded gently. “I just don’t like to see you sad.”

“I have to be upset sometimes. While it’d be too ideal otherwise, I can’t always be in a good mood” he said in an attempt to be reasonable.

You looked at him with a solemn sparkle in your eyes as you circled around his couch and squat down before him, look up at him with a frown before a smile appeared on your face.

“Smile for me” you said innocently.

“Darling…” Loki huffed, sort of imitating your tone “I know that tone… And while I appreciate what you’re trying to do… I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to change” I smile. “Smile for me.”

He did try for you, but it came out as some scowl.

“I can’t darling…” Loki apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Mmm… I know of something that always cheers you up, baby…” you smile suggestively, as you place your hands above his kneecaps. “It’s a little game we know~”

Loki immediately tensed up.

“N-No… darling… nohot that, not right now…” he protested, as a little smile fought its way to his lips.

“See? It’s working already” you gave him puppy eyes, “Please… it always cheers you up.”

You weren’t necessarily wrong, the little game you two had come up with was something that always made him relax and distract himself. And the same went for you, it was a two-sided game to cheer the other up.

But right now he didn’t deserve to feel good. He had failed, and his failure had caused you that injury on your side. Why didn’t you resent him?

“Darling Ihi…” he said as a soft laugh escaped him despite himself, “I’m not sure…”

“But you need cheering up...” you said, giving him those gorgeous pleading eyes he could never resist. “I’m not gonna be fine until I see the prettiest boyfriend happy again.”

You had an absurd yet utterly sweet way of sneaking your way into his heart. He let out a soft chuckle and sighed.

“You’re dangerously irresistible” he said as he caressed your face.

Norns, touching you always felt comforting. And the way you leaned against his hand, smiling with closed eyes in a loving way as his fingers brushed against your cheek… What lovely twist of fate left his cold heart in your tender caring hands?

“Is that a yes?” you smiled softly as your eyes fluttered open.

“Oh… Alright, darling” he sighed as a tiny smile already appeared on his face, as he stood up. “Just, allow me to get changed into more comfortable clothes.”

“Clothes that will make my job easier, I hope.”

You let out a happy soft giggle, taking his place on the couch, crossing your legs as you waited for him as he took of his clothes. He started taking off his leather armor as he heard you giggling.

“What?” he asked, surprising himself with the amusement laced in his voice.

“Nothing, it’s just I still sometimes forget how handsome you are” Loki could hear the bashful smile in your tone. “It’s a bit hard to handle sometimes.”

Loki chuckled softly. It was good to see you in a mood like this. Despite the exhaustion and… your wound, that you still tried to flirt with him.

“Does it hurt?” Loki ask as he turned around you after he put a dark green t-shirt on. “Your… well…”

You looked down at your shredded uniform and shrugged.

“As much as you’d expect” you responded, probably knowing it was pointless who has a literal sixth sense to detect lies. “But… I’ve had worse.”

“Worse than being struck by a blade? Forgive me if I’m skeptical, love.” Loki asked as he picked a sweatpants, “I appreciate you trying to ease my conscience, but I’d appreciate it if you were completely honest with me.”

“Must you always be able to read through me?”

“Perhaps I’m no expert, but I’ve been informed that’s part of the being your boyfriend deal” he responded. “I know when you’re softening a blow for me.”

“Smart as always. It hurts, badly. Like a hundred flu shots.” You admitted “It stings a bit too bad, if I do harsh movements.”

“I’m…” Loki’s words died at his lips, the knot on his throat and sting in his eyes at his words making him unable to finish his sentence.

“Sorry?”

“It’d be an understatement. I—”

When he turned around he saw you changing into a more comfortable outfit, you had already put on some sport shorts, and you were shuffling through your stuff to find a comfortable t-shirt. And he could see clearly the bandages stained with blood. His heart sunk to his chest.

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.” you cut him off. “And it’s part of this job, I knew from the start. And I accepted it, and I am willing to take those risks.”

Loki saw you struggle to put the shirt on, as trying to lift your arms made you hiss in pain. He walked towards you, gently taking your hands in his as he grabbed the shirt from you to help you put it on.

He relished the way you shivered as his fingers brushed against your skin. And you gave him those eyes, those eyes that could bring him to his knees, the eyes that kept him awake for so many nights until he had gathered the courage to confess his feelings to you.

“I wish you didn’t have to…” Loki sighed as he kissed your forehead. “You’re too precious to risk.”

“What? Am I supposed to leave all the fun to you?” you chuckled. “You know me better than that.”

“I do, but a man can wish” he said softly as he pressed his forehead against yours, as he gently rubbed his nose against yours in that way you had taught him. “I love you too much…”

“I love you too, Loki” you said. “But that’s why I need you to trust me and let me take risks. Okay?”

“Could you ask me something easier…?” Loki said softly.

“No can do, baby.” You smiled. “Besides, Wanda said she’d text me when it’s my turn in the Medbay again, doc said my injuries weren’t as serious, chances are I won’t even be left a scar.”

“That’s quite a relief, love” Loki smiled. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I had caused you permanent damage.”

“Mmm, that’s the talk of someone who needs my special cheer up treatment” you said in that faux serious tone. “Sit on the couch, please.”

Loki chuckled. Truthfully, he was feeling a bit better already. You had that about you, he always felt much better with you around, you came with a sense of peace that always settled on his chest as your skin came in contact with his. He just couldn’t stay upset when you were around.

“As my darling commands” he bowed as he sat on the couch, looking at you with loving eyes.

You sat on the couch as well, with your legs straddling him before you pressed your nose against his.

“Hey” you whispered.

“Hey” he smiled back at you, relishing the closeness between the two of you.

“Ready?”

“As much as one could in these circumstances” Loki chuckled.

“Perfect” you smiled as you placed your hands on each side of his neck. “Just like you…”

Loki’s breath hitched as a huge grin fought its way onto his lips, his fingers curling into fists as your fingertips traced his skin.

“Gah…!” he groaned as his shoulders rose up trying to protect himself. “Darling…!”

“What? I am starting gently” you argued, but the amusement in your voice was loud and clear. “It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish. I just have fun with it.”

What would anyone say if the saw the God of Mischief in this position? Willingly being submitted to tickling by a mortal half his size, smiling like an idiot as every nerve on his body urged him to laugh.

Even Loki himself once would’ve scoffed at the idea. It was truly ridiculous. But this was his thing with his darling. The reclusive prince of Asgard had found someone he trusted enough to touch him to their heart’s content, and it always felt wonderful. So when you came up with this little cheer up game of tickling each other, Loki couldn’t help but be strung along. And he had come to realized, he quite liked being the subject of this odd form of affection.

And perhaps he always liked it. But he didn’t have many opportunities to open up so freely before. Your fingertips and nails teasing his skin, the nervousness that settled on his stomach, and the laughter. Truthfully, it was fun. Part of his nature as the literal divinity of all kinds of playfulness, he assumed. Your version of mischief was simply more benign than what he had been accustomed to growing up.

“Lohohohove!” he laughed, “gohoho easy on mehehehe!”

“Did you know your nose scrunches up when you laugh?” you smiled, ignoring his plea, not that you were going hard on him to begin with.

“You may hahahave mehehentioned it” he nodded, throwing his head back.

“And you stick your tongue out in the cutest way” you smiled, surprising him with a quick kiss on the cheek, giving him a little break.

“Shuhuhut up!” he giggled. “Ahahahaha! N-Nohoho wait!”

You had moved to tickle his ribs and his laughter rose up in volume. Your touch was still soft and delicate and with just enough pressure to tickle. It was part of the game, never being to hard, half of the time the one on the receiving end was biting their lip with a huge dorky grin and just letting out a little breathy laugh every so often.

And while that was still true, you were slightly more energetic today, having the younger prince on a giggle fit.

“Wahahahait! I— Lohohohove!” he whined as he threw his head back. “Ahahahaha—”

“You love…?” you giggled, “What? You love this? Yeah, I know.”

The little defense his clothing provided him was risible, and yes, he was aware of the irony of that. The maddening way you gently scratched the sides of his ribs had him in stitches.

“Pfft! Hehehehehe!” he wheezed. “Nohohoho! Nohohot the ribs!”

“You always say that to every spot I tickle” you giggled while you kept skittering your fingers along his ribs.

“Behehehecause every spot ihihihis ticklish!” he laughed as he curls up on the couch. “Ehehehahahaha!”

And it got even worse when your fingers sneaked under his arms and scratched the ridiculously ticklish skin of his armpits.

“Nohohohoho!” he laughed. “Gah! Ehehehehehe! Oh norns! Hahahahaha!”

He was completely bent over in laughter, he had resigned limply laying against you, with his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“W-Wahahait!” he whined between laughs “Plehehehease hahahaha!”

“See?” you giggled happily as you tickled softly the back of his neck that was now exposed to you. “You’re a pretty and ticklish little crybaby…”

“Plehehehease!” he wheezed, “Ahahaha break! Hehehehahaha! Ihi need a breahaha- break!”

You laughed softly, but obeyed and your fingers came to a stop. And Loki was finally got to catch his breath.

“Ahh… hah…” he panted softly as he pulled you closer to give you a hug as he lifted his head a bit to give you a kiss on your shoulder. “G-Goodness gracious, love. You’re ruthless…”

“You love me like that…” you smiled at him.

“I love you like that” he grinned before pressing a kiss to your lips.

You smiled as you tucked a few rebel streaks of hair back to their place, as Loki closed his eyes and relaxed to the feeling of your hands gently caressing him.

“Mmm… I love it when you do that…” he sighed.

“Touch starved tonight, are we?” you caressed his hair.

“Not more than usual…” he sighed, and after a silence from your part he opened one eye to look at a smug grin on your face, “…perhaps slightly more than usual.”

It had been only a few years since he became familiar with the term of touch starvation, and it was so fascinating to him. The way one subconsciously craved for another one’s touch, and how it started taking a toll on the psyche if that need wasn’t satisfied.

And while he only realized so recently, it certainly he was an accurate description for him. He found such comfort the touch of his loved ones, like the way his father patted his shoulders, or whenever his mother would brush his hair when he was little, he even remembers that he’d purposefully mess his hair so she would brush it… and most likely… Frigga knew. Although being perfectly honest, Thor took the first place, if all their playful sparring wasn’t enough, Thor was affectionate by nature and he always patting his back, grabbing him by the shoulder, or giving him hugs. Loki never realized how much he needed his brother until he almost lost him.

But especially from you, your touch was so soft and tender that always made his heart flutter. Your hugs always melted him and your kisses you were a taste of heaven. The tickling, of course, was an important part of your relationship, sharing touch and laughter was surprisingly fun and it satisfied his need for mischief. Your back rubs always dissolved all his stress as if it was magic. And he always, always, fell asleep in minutes if you played with his hair, which was quite a common occurrence.

It had been just a few seconds from you running your fingers through his hair in the most delicious way, but he had leaned back against the couch once more, and he was already nodding off, his eyes closed.

“Comfy?” you asked him, and he could hear the gentle smile on your face.

“Yes, darling…” he sighed.

“Liking this?”

“Yes, darling…” he chuckled.

“Want more tickles?” you asked again.

“Nice try, darling” he opened one eye to look at you as a smile formed on his lips that he was unable to get rid of.

Because of the tickles? Most likely that helped too, but mostly it was that semi-magical effect you had to cheer him up no matter the circumstances.

“It wasn’t a trick, baby” you smiled as you kissed his cheek. “If I wanted to tickle you… I’d just do it. Like this.”

And you did, grabbing your sides and poke and prodded his belly with your thumbs, just kneading your fingers onto his stomach. On a different spot, the massage-like touch it would’ve been relaxing. But his stomach was stupidly sensitive, and it took very little to have him going insane.

“NOHOHOHOHO! STOHOHOHOHOP! NOT THAHAHAT!” he cackled curled up in a ball against you. “I GIHIHIHIHIVE! NO MOHOHOHORE!”

“Mmm… Oh, alright” you giggled, “just because you’re so cute.”

“Ihihi… I am not cute” Loki glared at you. But between his rosy cheeks, and the goofy grin he couldn’t shake off, you weren’t exactly intimidated.

“Yes, you are” you smiled as you held his chin and pressed your forehead against his. “You’re my cute little prince.”

“Say that again” he panted as a slight smile formed on his face.

“What? Cute little prin— hmpfff?!” before you had finished your sentence, Loki had pressed his lips against yours.

Kissing Loki always felt truly like magic, he was passionate as one would expect. But he was surprisingly tender, he liked cupping your face and caressing your cheeks with your thumbs when he was feeling particularly soft, or firmly wrapping his arms around your waist, even grabbing you by the thighs to carry you when he was overly needy.

And right now, he was overly tender and concerned for you, he gently caressed your face as his other hand caressed near your wounded side.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “You shouldn’t have been wounded because of my incompetence.”

“Ow, baby… I’m okay” you sighed as you gently caressed his cheek. “Here, see?”

Your lifted your shirt enough to show the bandaged area and tapped over the stain of blood trying to prove him you’re alright. But you winced at the first contact.

“That’s relieving” Loki said sarcastically, but he surprised himself smiling genuinely.

“Well… maybe it’s gonna take some more time to heal…” you admitted as you rested against him. “But it wasn’t your fault, we were ambushed, and they knew exactly… how to… knock you down…”

Loki looked into your eyes and the look on your face made evident you had the same idea.

“You don’t think… they could have… known I… that we…” he asked. The idea wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“You mean… that someone warned them beforehand…” Loki looked at you with a worried look.

“No, no. No… that’d mean… there’s a traitor between us.”

But that couldn’t be… Right?

| MASTERPOST | PART TWO |

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Man Down ~ B.A.

A/n: I haven’t watched the show in a long enough time that I forgot all the crisis events and I don’t want to go back and watch any of them soooo I just made it Savitar era centered. Hints of Savitar x reader like. Everywhere. Sorry about that lol

Request: “...Barry x male reader, reader gets hurt trying to protect Barry during a crisis event?” By anon

Word Count: 5200+

MASTERLIST

When Caitlyn sat down next to me, we both knew it was too late, but I admired her for trying anyway. Even before she spoke, I knew what she was going to say. I could tell in the way her lips curved into a frown and her wide eyes begged, but her words had no energy to them, that she knew it too. That she recognized the way I was acting. That she saw through my calm and comforting and reassurance. My hopelessness underneath, mourning so much more than Iris West’s death.

Mourning my own.

It had been months of fighting back Savitar. So long trying to save Iris’ life. To change the future. They’d made some progress here and there, but…. Ultimately not enough. It was obvious that Barry wouldn’t be able to stop it. Wouldn’t be able to save her. And Barry Allen couldn’t live without Iris West.

What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t do everything in my power to keep them together?

A different back and forth had been happening, other than the battle of wills between Barry and his time duplicate. A battle of love. For years, I’d longed for Barry to stop looking at his best friend and to pay attention to me. To level those adoring eyes and loving gazed onto me instead of her. He never did. Sometimes I thought he might, almost like he was considering it. Just like the days that Iris almost paid attention to Barry. Almost saw him as something other than a brother, as she had decided he was. Almost.

Almost only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades, as the song goes. So I’d decided that if it came down to it - me or her - Barry would chose her. He already had, and he would again. He would be mad at me for doing this. He would be so, so angry. But he’d get over it eventually. He’d move on and reconcile. They’d fall in love one day. There was a newspaper by line proving it. He would be happy with her. One day his almost would turn into an absolute. He might not forget his friend, who had once been, but he would be happier in the end if this was me instead of her.

So I would die instead.

“Please don’t do it.”

I smiled when Caitlyn finally spoke. It was a lie when I smiled, when I looked at her with confusion. “Do what?”

Her gaze bore into mine. “I don’t know.” There was already mourning in her tone. Oh Caitlyn… poor Caitlyn. How much had she lost? How many? My one regret - I could t spare my other friends from my loss. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but you’ve been acting different. And it’s worrying me.”

I looked away, face scrunched as I worked on the design Cisco had asked me to work on. He had a new suit idea for the future, and being more gifted with a needle than him, I was usually the one he went to. I hoped to finish it before it was too late. Now it was an easy thing to focus on. To play casual with. “You worry too much Caitlyn.” A boldfaced lie. We all knew she worried exactly as much as she should. All her friends were suicidally wreckless. “I have no plans.” Another lie. I looked up at her, smiling again. “I’m worried about Iris too, but I know Barry will pull through. He always does.” I winked, nudging her. Too many lied for what was probably our last person to person conversation. “I promise, okay?”

She didn’t respond to that. She looked at the suit I was making. Like it was proof. And it was, in a way. Hadn’t I not been working on it this whole time? Hadn’t I said it would take me a while? Hadn’t I told Cisco it would be a while, with the little details I had to work out and all the stress around us? Too much stress, too much to do, not enough time to handle it all.

The fact that I was making time for this - I might have yelled it was my final act at the top of my lungs. Not that I had to, for the people that could see the unspoken words in the way I said goodbye and the words I didn’t say and the things I did or didn’t do. Not for people like Caitlyn. She would have always ended up here, unable to stop me but desperate to try, knowing I would do anything to save Barry from the agony he was facing. Knowing that I loved him enough to destroy myself.

Her best of all, who had seen it in her fiancé’s face the day he had promised to see her again, knowing he was doomed to die. Of Caitlyn. Poor, brilliant, amazing, wonderful Caitlyn. If only I could spare you from reliving this again…

I looked away, back toward my sewing. She didn’t believe me, we both knew it. But there was nothing else to be said. So we didn’t speak again, sitting in the last silence we’d get together. Too few days now until Iris was supposed to die. Until I would take her place instead.

-

“You know, it’s weird.” I looked up when Savatar spoke to me, no longer startled at the way he simply appeared in my room. He had been doing this since the day he had been exposed for who he was. The first time it had been terrifying, but it had soon become clear as to why he did it anyway, and over time I had gotten used to it.

“What’s weird?” I asked calmly, returning to my sewing. “The fact that you keep breaking into your future partner’s bedroom before even meeting in your own proper timeline, or the fact that I’m seeing a suit you don’t recognize?”

Savitar fought a smile. He was doom and gloom unless he was around me. Apparently in the future we fell in love or whatever. I couldn’t imagine knowing what I know now, and still falling in love with him. Knowing what he would do. Who he would become. How he would destroy the man I love now. Apparently, the future was a wild place. Or… would have been. How it’ll never have happened. Not for me and not for hun.

Perhaps we were soulmates after all.

“I knew I shouldn’t have reacted to that suit you’re making. Spoilers.”

I snorted, unable to handle the hilarity in a time duplicate coming backward in time to kill someone just to ensure his own existence, using Barry’s memories to put himself on top the whole time. He was a walking spoiler. His backstory alone was the most raw look into what was supposed to happen yet.

“So not the suit then,” I decided on, looping back to his original comment. “What’s weird?” I looked up at him briefly before returning to my work. I couldn’t help the tender spot I had for him. He was a darker, sadder Barry. All the same memories and expressions and body language but with more pain than even my Barry had. It was in my very blood and bones to want to cheer him up. To want to make it better. That I did understand. I knew that a future me would have carried that softness and kindness toward him. He had mention that was how he had fallen in love with me - the one who treated him like a person, who recognized and cared for him.

Perhaps that was how I managed to fall in love with him as well. The way that he was Barry enough to count, but different enough that it wasn’t bitter. Wasn’t overwhelming. Different enough that he wasn’t obsessed with Iris. We probably would have been happy.

Savitar watched me, as if studying me. “I love watching your mind work. All the things you never say that simply click together in your mind.” He swallowed, and I knew he was thinking about how much he missed me. Future me, who loved him without guilt. I wonder if he visited the older me when he wasn’t actively spending time taunting Barry and making plans to kill Iris. I wonder if future me knew where he was, what he was doing.

I sighed. He was right, I really did have too many thoughts to speak them out loud so rarely. He really did know me like no one else did. It was jarring. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s weird?”

His smile finally won out. It edged on a smirk, but was a little too soft around the edges while he looked at me. He looked so much less intimidating like this. So much more like Barry. “To see it happen like this. To see the seeds planted of our future even before we existed in the same way. To know you so deeply, when you don’t know me at all, knowing that later you’ll know me as deeply and I will be the one who’s surprised by it.” He sat down at the table across from me, studying my face. “I always wondered what it was like to go into a relationship knowing someone, hearing stories, being aware of the steps even before they happen. When I opened my eyes the first time and you smiled at me. When I realized that you were different, and I found out that you knew me all this time ago. I wondered if you started falling in love with me before I was created. I wondered if my coming back in time was an influence for you, as you being so familiar and comfortable with me so quickly was an influence for me. I had this idea in my mind that we were this never ending cycle. That we ended up together simply because we already knew we would end up together.”

My smile grew dry. “Time travel is a weird one,” I agreed. “And I can imagine what you mean. But… no. I don’t know when my future self fell in love with you, but it wasn’t now. It isn’t now for me at least. Maybe now that the future has changed it’ll be different.” I shrugged, not looking up. Thinking about how I would die, driven by my love for Barry. About how I would never get the chance to fall in love with Savitar to begin with.

His eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, catching my wrist. I looked up at him - and I saw it in his eyes. I saw the understanding and the accusation. I saw the rage there, as I’d seen it in Caitlyn. The mourning turning quickly to denial. To refusal. He saw my resolve, my plan, even though he couldn’t understand what it was or how I had come up with it. Why I had.

“What are you planning?” He demanded.

I met his eyes evenly, deflating a bit. It was harder to lie to this man. Not just because of his face, or his voice. Not just because he was so like Barry that he had a hold on me from day one. Now he was his own man, esperare from Barry, and he still had a hold on me. A part of me perhaps already did care for him. Perhaps that was the part that would have loved him one day. If we’d had the chance.

“I don’t have a plan.” My voice was even and unrelenting. His eyes flared with anger for a moment, and it seemed that he might lash out. But I was special to him. He didn’t know Iris, and he specifically hated Barry. Everyone else was lost to him. Strangers who estranged themselves. Who shut him out first. But me? I was supposed to be the love of his life. He couldn’t be the monster he became so easily around the others. The violence he didn’t struggle to harness for them was impossible with me. We both knew it. He melted, slowly at first but then very suddenly all at once. He fell from his chair, moving around the table at super speed to kneel in front of me. He turned my chair so that he could move close to me. His hands rested on my wrists, and he held my gaze. There was a deep desperation there. Pleading. Very like the look that Caitlyn had given me. “I don’t have your memories. I don’t remember what you did, or do, or how you change through time. I… I can only beg. I will do anything for you, just please let it happen.”

My frown twisted into almost a snarl. Almost. I couldn’t quite bring true bitterness to use against him either, as he could not summon violence against me. We were trapped in our love for each other. In our softness, at the very least. “Why would I do anything you asked me to?”

He searched my eyes, and then sighed with relief when he found it. Found the part of me still fighting to survive. He recognized that I hadn’t completely given up. Completely committed myself to death. What sentient creature didn’t have survival reflexes that fought to extend those last moments? Who didn’t cling to life, even when death was inevitable?

He saw that part of me that fought and he sought to encourage it. “You find love after him. You’re so happy with me. We get married in the place from your dream board. Every dream you had comes true. You have a whole life, Y/n. You have eternity. It feels like eternity for us. It feels like forever. Where I’m from, it’s only been a few years, but I’ve been to the future. I’m a hero because of you. I take Barry’s place. That horrible world that he created for a while, when he leaves everyone behind - I fill it. You help me. We become the new team Flash. It’s… it’s different,” and it’s a plea when he says it. A desperate sell to get me to see the future he does. To want it. To believe in it. To fight for it. Or, more accurately, to not fight because of it. To give up and let it all happen. “But it’s ours. He never loves you. He never will. But I will. I see what he doesn’t. What he won’t. And we’re so much happier than they ever could have been. We’re worth it. We’re worth this.”

I can’t help myself. Even for Savatar, who I want to hate, who I’m going to destroy, I can’t bring myself not to want to reassure him. As I reassured Caitlyn last time, and have reassured Harry and Cisco and Barry and Iris and even Joe. I lean close, and I press a kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter close and he leans into me, hands loosening their death grip as he melts into the affection. The first time I have showed it to him, as I am. A sign that I am capable of becoming the person who loves him. A beacon of hope I’m sure. I kiss him and I hold him when he leans into me and I close my eyes and, worst of all, I lie to him. “I won’t do it. I won’t do anything. I want that future with you. I want to be happy. I want to be loved. I want to be with you.” And it isn’t a complete lie. There are truths there that ring in my voice, making it warmer and filling it with light and hope and joy.

Half lies are so much easier to believe.

And he does believe them.

Savitar leans away from me, a hand rising to push hair behind my ear as he looks into my gaze and sees tears. “Can I kiss you?” He asked this question only once, always seeking out how much affection he’s allowed to show me. Until now, I couldn’t face something like that. The betrayal to Barry that it would be. We barely got to hugging until tonight.

But tonight… I’m going to die for Barry. I’m going to give him the ultimate sacrifice for his happiness. I can be a little selfish. Take a small betrayal for myself.

“Yes,” I whisper. Savitar doesn’t wait to be told again - he just kisses me. He has been waiting for this and I can tell. I’ve been waiting for it too, and that takes me by surprise. This weird in between, where kissing him is the daydream of kissing Barry that I have king craved, but also something completely new and separate and not about Barry at all. The part of me that will always love Barry meets the part of me that finds it easier and easier to love Savitar and I finally understand. They are the same part. I never moved on from Barry to love Savitar. It was new and also the same. Me getting everything I ever wanted and also something completely different. Me holding onto what I’ve been holding onto since day one, but also letting it go too. I didn’t move on from Barry - it was like dating his brother or his best friend. It was unfair to Savitar and even more unfair to me.

This darker me with these far more selfish desires…. It was sickening to think about. How could I have done this?

Now it was clearer than ever that I was going to go with the plan I’d picked. I was sure. I wouldn’t become the person Savitar knew me as. I wouldn’t let that version of me win. Not this time. Not ever.

-

The device wrapped around my wrist, disguised as a bracelet, had a wire attached that ran underneath my long sleeve, up my arm to the power source on my chest. The full body machine had been beautifully effective in making me not only look like Iris West, but being one hundred convincing in proving that I was her. I could smell her perfume, reach up and almost feel the curl on her hair. I would die as Iris West and no one would have time to recognize me, let alone stop me. They’d only have time to mourn me. And with Savatar’s defeat following so close after my own, I doubted they’d have the capacity to do anything other than celebrate.

Just as they always did. Take a moment and then let it go. Continue to be happy and successful, as the friends we’d lost along the way would want. And that was true, I did want them to be happy. I only wished I could have seen it.

Savatar had me in his grip, and I flinched as he gripped me a little too tightly. There was no softness now. No tenderness spared for the person he loved. I was Iris to him now. He wouldn’t realize he had killed the person most precious to him until it was too late.

I felt bad for him. It felt terrible that I was making him do this. That he was choosing to do it. That, perhaps, the forces of the universes drove him to be in such a position that we were all partially guilty. For treating him poorly. For having to kill Iris to survive. To choose between the woman he loved once, and the person he would come to love after. To chose between the man he had once been and the man he was made into after he wasn’t that man anymore. After he stopped being Barry and everyone turned on him.

My eyes closed when his fingers wrapped around my throat, my head tilting back as I felt the sun on my face for the last time.

Barry screamed.

Someone else screamed even louder.

My eyes flew open, recognizing Iris’s voice. She had her blazer opened, revealing the device on her chest. The one I had out there to turn her into me. To make her look like me so that she could hide until it was all over. So she could live.

What in the holy hell was she doing now?

Whatever it was, whatever play she had been trying to make at the last moment to save my life, it had been too late. Savatar flicked his wrist, gripping hard as he began to speed up, letting the speed force take him. He soon slammed to a halt as he processed that Iris was standing so far from him when she was supposed to be in his grip. That she was in two places at once.

Unfortunately for me, he had moved, and in shock he had loosened his grip. Barry didn’t have super strength, neither did Savatar. I ripped from him, going flying as my body rag dolled. I slammed into something solid. A tree? A wall? I couldn’t quite tell, my vision was blurry and spotted and for a second I couldn’t breathe. Everything spun and I was stunned - frozen in a moment of free fall and terror. Iris was supposed to have been zipped away, neck snapped and eyes dead to the world. Everything had gone wrong…

And then it went even worse.

The pain came all at once as my moment frozen in time ended. The agony of my burning body as I groaned while trying to scream. I realized immediately that my leg was broken and there was something wrong with my chest. Maybe a rib broken as well? Definitely a concussion. I blinked my eyes and saw blood around my face. Oh… I had hit something very hard indeed. Several broken things and a head wound. I was horribly injured, but perhaps not mortally.

Savitar was above me, tears streaming down his face. “Why?” He was asking, over and over again. Trying to understand. Failing to do so. I realized that in the process of my injury, the machine hiding who I was had broken. I was exposed as myself now, and all his softness was back. No betrayal. No anger. Just loss. Only mourning.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. And I realized that I had said it every single time he had asked me. A mantra of my own to match his.

He had lost the chance to kill Iris. In running to my side, the time had passed and as he looked down at me we both knew it. Love had won out in the end. But not our love. His love for me maybe, but my love for Barry. Barry’s love for Iris. A cycle of unrequited, unreturned devotion. An unending string of broken hearts.

As the pain took over and I went unconscious, I saw his skin begin to fade away, turning into waves of light and energy. He unwound and spun off into the breeze, and he cried for me and I cried for him and we watched the other fade away as our friends watched the two of us, unsure if or even how to help.

The last thing I saw was him, still asking why, me still answering in echoing apologies, and my friends still watching in horror.

-

I woke up in the infirmary bed that Barry had laid in, in a coma a few years ago now. I woke up to see him sitting in a chair next to me, as I’d sat in a chair next to him. I had been apart of the team building the particle accelerator. I had been a designer. An engineer. I put metal and fabric together with the same fingers, the same methods. Back then I hadn’t been here for the day it all went wrong. I’d moved onto another project, one I’d be kicked from when my name got dragged through the mud and my credibility was demolished. Caitlyn, Wells, and Cisco had welcomed me back with open arms, and though I couldn’t do much in studying Barry, I was a good comfort. Even with him unconscious I’d found myself falling for him in the stories that were told and the things people shared with him while unconscious to get him to respond. To get him to come back. I admired hun through their eyes, and felt their love until he one day was awake and had become my friend and I got to love him in a way that was all my own.

Now it was a bit startling to see him next to me, hand holding mine and completely unconscious. Just as he had found me the first day he had woken up. Dutiful and beside him like a guardian. A watcher, waiting for him to wake him as he waited for me now.

“Barry?” I went to pull my hand away and he stirred immediately, desperately holding onto me as he lifted his head, blinking bleary eyes heavy with sleep. He looked around the room, obviously not expecting the interruption to have come from me. How many times had the others had to drag him from this room? Oh god why did that make my heart do somersaults?

When he realized I was awake he light up. Still tired but far more alert, as it super charged by seeing me awake and seemingly better. I hurt but I could muster a smile and that seemed to be enough. He whispered my name, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “You’re awake,” he mumbled dreamily. Like it was the most important news he had ever gotten.

I couldn’t help it. I blushed. “Yes. I am.”

He chuckled and I watched him as he wiped sleep from his eyes. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ve been doing that a lot, here, in this chair. Gotta be bad for my back.” He tilted his head in an attempt to pop his neck, but didn’t let go of my hand.

“Barry,” I began slowly, eyes narrowing as I tried to make sense of what was happening in front of me. “I’m lost.”

He smiled, as if I had done something rather adorable. These were one of those almost-maybe moments where I thought he might have loved me if things were different. It took me by surprise now, lasting longer than it usually did. His tender admiration didn’t fade or switch out or get embarrassed or distracted and flee. He turned his full attention toward me without hesitation. “I can imagine how… disorienting it would be. To almost die trying to save Iris for me, only to wake up and… it’s all different now.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He grew quiet for a moment, holding my hand and letting his thumb run back and forth across my skin. When he spoke, I found that I hadn’t been breathing the whole time. It was too much but I didn’t dare stop him. I didn’t dare stop him. “When I realized it had been you the whole time. That all this time, I had been watching you die. Not Iris. Or, maybe Iris, but that this time it was you. That somewhere maybe it changed. I saw something else too. I saw her guilt, and found out how long she’d known what you were doing. She didn’t even come that day - Harry did. Disguised as Iris to save you, willing to sacrifice his life for yours. Both of you so brave and amazing. And… I can’t imagine what it would be like to know you were going to die and then seeing an alternative. But, I understood you more than I did her after that. You get me in a way she never will. I sacrifice myself for people too. That’s what being a hero is about. And I am a hero to some people. I try to be a hero as much as I can be. I want to be a person who stands with pride. Not with guilt. And… it made me love you even more. It made me realize that I’ve had these feelings for you for a while.”

I blinked. “That’s impossible.”

Barry laughed, once, startled by my reaction. “You’d have thought. I was sick over Iris…” he shook his head. “But I realized, it was obsession more than love. I was fixated on her. I couldn’t have any other relationships, couldn’t even entertain them. I was trapped by this idea of destiny. The newspaper and Earth 2 and Eobard Thawne and Eddie dying. It was like we had this great destiny. Like I had to be with her. I was expected to be. It was all leading to this. And I realized that a part of it was that it felt useless to try anything else. My future had already been decided. And part of it was that it felt like a prize. For being a hero, and for being patient. For waiting for her. It felt like a reward.” He scowled. “And I realized that’s a super toxic mentality to have. Iris isn’t s prize, or a reward - she’s a person. And I kept treating her like she was only going to be happy if she was with me. That we were two halves of a whole. But she’s a whole person by herself, and she’s capable and worthy of happiness on her own.” He shrugged. “Between that and my love for you, surging in this moment… I just felt like an idiot. I’d spent so much time wasted on a relationship I’d already failed by feeling like I was owed something. I’m not, and it’s different with you. Freer. This happened naturally, and despite everything else. Against all odds. It was given to me, I worked for it. No destiny, no predetermination. Just you and me. No god or fate involved. And I like it better this way.”

My heart surged, and my eyes went wide. “Barry Allen, did you just say you’re in love with me?”

He laughed, this time for a while, and he kissed my hand again. “That was.. a lot, all at once.” He sighed, grabbing my hands between both of his. “I’m sorry, let’s start with something more simple. How are you feeling?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Wonderful.”

He beamed back. “Perfect. Can I kiss you?”

It felt like a dream as I whispered, “Yes.” He kissed me and I thought about when I had kissed Savitar. We had both dodged relationships that were bad for us. He had been obsessed with Iris his entire life, eternally pining and blinded, treating her like so much less than a person. And I had done the same with Savitar. Iris had been an idea to him, as Savitar was a missed opportunity I had seized in a new and different way.

How much better that we lived in the timeline where s’more genuine love won out. That we chose each other and got to be our best selves, instead of pushing for relationships that we wanted no matter the cost. No matter protest or person. This… this was freer. More innocent. Kinder.

“I love you,” I whispered, and I felt no guilt. Only joy. I imagine that the other me must have felt a lot of guilt. But not this me. Not this time. Finally I was free of that.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, and I heard it in his voice too. The freedom. The joy. The love.

How wonderful was that?

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello there! I have a promt for you :)

What about TBB reacting to Omega getting her first period and/or the reader having a fear of needles but she needs a vaccination to travel to a planet?

Hello! I actually wrote a piece on Omega getting her first period and how her Batch brothers reacted. Read it here! 

I haven't written anything close to the second prompt though, so I can do that one!

TBB & Reader | 1.7k words

Content: fear of needles/trypanophobia and related symptoms, brief description of a deadly disease, Star Wars cursing, platonic but you could read more into the Hunter or Wrecker bits if you wanted (Tech or Crosshair too, tbh, they're not getting any more comforting than that lol)

To say you were panicking was an understatement. You were utterly and completely freaking out. And worse, you were trying desperately not to let your companions see it. You'd fought valiantly beside them for the better part of a year, never once shying away from the things that would make others quake in their boots. But now you were moments away from having to face your biggest fear, and if they saw what it was, they'd never stop teasing you for it.

So you stayed out of the way as they made their preparations for landing, keeping your trembling hands behind your back and your gaze fixed as steadily as possible on an invisible point on the wall ahead. Thankfully they didn't seem to notice or care that you weren't helping out. But you couldn't escape their attention forever.

"Alright, you're next!" Tech called your name as the last of his brothers left their perch in front of him. You'd been keeping Tech and his needles in your periphery, not wanting to fully look at any of them, but also wanting to keep an eye out in case one of them magically took flight and caught you by surprise.

"No thanks. I'll be fine," you tried to dismiss the plan as nonchalantly as possible. But even Hunter stopped his packing to cock an eyebrow at you.

"You'll be fine?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh, like you'd just said you had a third arm. "It's a disease, sweetheart. You can't shoot it out of the air. Vaccine's the only way to protect yourself."

"It's an airborne virus, to be specific," Tech clarified. "Deadly to any species other than the natives of this planet. But thankfully they've donated enough blood to the GAR to help develop an effective vaccination. It's the only way we can go down to help them against the droids that ravage their world."

You made the mistake of looking over at Tech just as he held up a syringe and flicked its side. Holy kriffing bantha shit, was that needle long and thick. It was like a kriffing pipe. It glinted in the lights of the ship, like it was winking at you. Mocking you. Your heart immediately started picking up its pace.

"I'll take my chances," you tried one last futile attempt at escape. Somehow you kept your voice steady, forcing a normal tone around the frog that had lodged itself your constricting throat. But then Crosshair spared a glance in your direction and the ruse unraveled.

"You're scared," Crosshair stated plainly. He probably saw the bead of sweat that had just formed at your hairline. Or maybe he could see the veins in your neck pulsing quicker than they should've.

"You'll take large boils, severe dehydration, and bloody vomit over a shot?" Echo asked. Wrecker paused along with him and now everyone's attention was focused on your first ever display of fear. Fantastic.

"Not to mention death," Wrecker pointed out. "That's the worst symptom."

"I don't know if it could be called a symptom so much as a consequence," Tech mused.

"A consequence no one in the ship will be facing, thank you," Hunter asserted, finally walking over to you. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder, but his next words were a bit softer. "It doesn't hurt that much. You'll be okay."

You supposed you were grateful they were taking a more questioning and supportive approach than one of teasing, but it still didn't rectify the problem of you needing to go through with this shot anyway.

"I'm not worried about the pain," you muttered. "It's the..."

Your eyes flicked over to where Tech was still holding that damned needle high and proud. A chill overcame you and you felt yourself blanching.

"Okay, okay," Hunter quickly moved his hand to grasp your arm in an effort to keep you upright. "How about you sit down first. We'll walk you through this one step at a time."

Hunter waved Wrecker over and the burly clone immediately came over and picked you up. You weren't cured from your phobia but you did find his embrace comforting. You continued to cling to him as he sat you down on the counter by Tech. He chuckled but didn't protest. He stood next to you and kept his arm securely around you.

"Okay," Hunter said soothingly. "Now let's find a distraction for you. Keep your thoughts on something else."

"Maybe Tech could tell us all about the difference between bacteria and viruses," Echo said sarcastically.

You missed the glare Tech gave in response, unable to even think about what he looked like for fear of picturing a needle in his hands as well.

"Or," Hunter butt in, sensing your need for a different kind of distraction. "Let's practice your knife skills. Here."

He pulled out one of his trusty vibro-knives and placed it in your hand. The hilt was cold against your skin, heavy in your grip. You tried to focus on those sensations instead, and it almost worked in keeping your attention, until a different kind of cold feeling hit your other arm and you freaked out all over again.

"It's only a numbing swab," Tech said with a tinge of annoyance.

"No. No, no, no." You were shaking your hand frantically, scooting yourself backwards on the counter to get as far away as possible. Wrecker's arm tightened around you, preventing you from moving. "Nope. I can't do this."

"Sure you can," Wrecker tried to reassure you, but to no avail. You trembled against his hold.

"No. No, I'll just sit this one out. Stay on the ship. You boys go without me."

Tech huffed again, having to re-explain information he'd already shared when you'd first gotten this mission. "That won't work. We'll still be exposed to the virus and bring it back to the ship with us. We'll have to undergo a whole decontamination process when we're back on Kamino, the ship, too. And then it's quarantine for a minimum of 72 hours...."

You weren't listening. Your face felt wet. Were you crying or just sweating? Hunter was trying to get you to focus back on the blade in your hand, but your fingers were shaking so bad you couldn't even hold it.

"Maybe we should just knock her out," Crosshair said. He'd kept himself out of the situation but now couldn't help himself. Your agitation was too amusing.

"We're not knocking her out," Hunter rolled his eyes before cooing your name. You begrudgingly looked over at him. "It's okay. Please just twirl the knife and don't think about anything else. It'll be over before you know it."

A sudden clatter came from Tech dropping the syringe and you could almost feel Hunter's blood start to boil in annoyance. Just when he kept getting you to a good place....

"Tech," he growled.

You cowered into Wrecker's arms again. This could not be happening.

"What?" Tech was saying. "It slipped."

"I don't want to do this," you moaned, maybe a tad dramatically. You shut your eyes tightly, and prayed that when you opened them again, you'd find this was just some horrible dream.

"Oh for kriff's sake," came Crosshair's voice. "Hold her down."

Wrecker's other hand seized your arm in such a way that you couldn't move it. But even so, it happened so quickly you couldn't process fast enough to keep up. He gripped your arm and then there was a tight pinch as something broke through your skin. By the time your brain caught up to what was happening, Crosshair was already pulling the needle back out, swift and smooth. Your eyes flew open and your mouth formed a silent scream, but there was nothing to panic about anymore. The syringe was back out of sight, and in its place was but a mere drop of blood ballooning on the surface of your skin. Echo quickly stepped in to fix a bandage over it.

And that was that.

"See? Not so bad," Wrecker said with a chuckle. He finally released his hold on you, making you whine a little at the loss of such a solid support. You still felt woozy, though you had to admit the panic was dissipating fast.

Hunter, however, was not getting over his feelings as easily. He scowled at both Tech and Crosshair, though the latter was already leaving the scene to return to packing his weapons kit.

"That was a lot of fuss over nothing," Tech said plainly, refusing to meet Hunter's gaze. "Now I just need my shot, and then we can land and get on with the mission."

"You know, Tech," you said, glad you were able to find your voice again and it not sound too embarrassingly faint. "It might help me to get over this fear if I gave you your shot."

"Ha ha, very funny," the goggled clone shook his head, but then looked up at you nervously to gauge if you were serious. The smirk in your lips combined with the fact your face still hadn't recovered its color was indication enough you were not serious at all, only trying to give him as much grief as he'd given you.

"I think Cross has proved he has the steadiest hand," Echo played along with a smirk of his own.

Tech seemed to consider the idea before scooping up all the supplies onto his tray and shuffling away. "I think I can manage to inject myself, thank you. ETA is five minutes. Chop chop."

You let out a tired laugh as Tech disappeared into the cockpit. The others slowly went into their landing positions as well. Except Hunter, who folded his arms and gave you a strange look.

"So. Needles, huh? I was wondering what your weakness would be."

The faintest of smiles played on his features, helping you settle further into your own relief.

"Thank you," you said in response.

"For what?"

"For not making fun of me... And helping me get through it. Or, at least trying."

Hunter uncrossed his arms and stepped forward so he was close enough to put his hand on your shoulder once more.

"We've got your back. Always."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully

Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🍾 One Shots Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hola!

Could I request Solomon defending his s/o when her older sister (very poorly) attempts to bully her?

Solomon x Reader

It was good to be home. ‘Home’ being a relative term for just being back on Earth, but the sentiment was still the same.

Though being in the Devildom was exciting, and certainly lively with the brothers & their friends, Solomon liked coming back to the mortal plane with [Y/N] to be alone. He honestly never cared what they did when they had their ‘top side’ dates, but visiting their family was usually on the list and typically pleasant. Most of the time….

“Oh [Y/N], since you’ve been in the exchange program for so long, I went in your closet to rotate a few things out. You know, to make more space and freshen things up.” Their older sister was not one of the more amenable visits they had planned for this week. Solomon had met the type before. The undercutting, faux helpful character. The kind that would smile with a knife in your back. She always came off sweet to [Y/N], but Solomon knew her intent was never that genial.

“Um…ok. You didn’t get rid of any of my stuff did you?”

“Just a few boxes. It was all stuff from like…high school.”

“Some of that ‘stuff’ is important to me! Which pieces did you get rid of?”

“I don’t know like..some of the shirts and stuff. God. Try to do something nice for you and you jump down my throat…”

“And what, pray tell, did you replace it with?” Solomon asked, getting her attention. “You said you were going to ‘freshen things up’, so what did you get [Y/N] in exchange.”

The sister looked shocked but quickly bounced back and showed [Y/N] some of what she had gotten from her phone. As expected, they were all clothes that fit her taste more than [Y/N]. “So, you cleaned out her closet to make more room for your own things. Lovely.”

The sister frowned at him. “That’s not what happened!” She insisted. “I was only trying to help! Besides, if it was so important why didn’t she just take it with her?”

“If it was so important, why didn’t you just put it in boxes for [Y/N] to review on her return, if you really only wanted to help?”

The woman growled at him and then turned to [Y/N]. “You know, I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, but we all hate your boyfriend.” Despite the conversation, Solomon grinned at the term ‘boyfriend’. “He’s always making these snide comments and passive aggressive remarks. It’s not cool!”

“Ironically, it is the very definition of ‘cool’ behavior.” Cool: to appear unfriendly and unsympathetic by not showing much emotion, especially affection. Solomon would have laughed at his own joke if tensions weren’t running a little high.

“I was just trying to help, and you’re making it out like I’m some bitch!”

“The senators of Rome were also just trying to help, and yet Ceasar is still dead.” That had been a very sad day for him as well. “But, if we are going to dissolve into foul language, I think we will take our leave. Profanity is the parlance of fools.”

Solomon stood as the sister’s jaw dropped wide enough to catch files. He sheathed his retort on that and offered his hand to [Y/N]. “Please email [Y/N] on where you sent their belongings, so we might buy them back. Even if it costs me tenfold, I will return you whole my love.” With this promise they leave the café to enjoy the rest of their Earth visit.

“You really didn’t have to say all that to her.” [Y/N] said when they were down the street.

“Why? I enjoyed it. Besides, your sister was right about one thing: she is a bitch.” He didn’t have to ‘make her out’ to be anything, and he already felt bad enough to stooping to her level. “Now, let’s go shopping until your sister texts where she sent your things.” He doubted she would, but he sent a quick text to their mother, who he had a great relationship with, to hopefully push the needle. “I’ll text Asmo for some fashion tips. He’ll be over the moon when he hears you are updating your wardrobe properly, and we’ll be on the hunt for the rest of your things.”

[mistressoftherant-blog]

TUA Finale

Spoilers below for the Umbrella Academy final and my not so positive opinion of it.

Why did anyone on the writers team think it was a good idea to have Lila and Five do that?!

I already didn't like Lila for the stunt she pulled with the kid, making Diego get attached to a boy he would never see again and then dropping the bombshell that she was pregnant. I was already a little mad that Five ruined Diego's breakout plan from the asylum, getting him stuck with a needle, put in a straitjacket and locked in a padded cell.

I never appreciated the fact that both of them call Diego dumb constantly (nor the fact that the show has dumbed him down significantly since season 1). The body shaming from Lila was also uncomfortable.

But this... this was a whole new level of awful. And because it was the end of the season and they were all dying, Diego just had to accept it and move on?? Like this was shoved in at the end for a bit of cheap drama.

Cheating is not the answer to feeling unhappy in marriage, especially not with your husband's brother. Especially not when you have three young kids. I really wish Lila could have just been a friend to them rather than in a relationship with any of them. It always bothered me how the writers basically erased Patch and then had Diego move on with Lila like what they had had was nothing, when her death was such a massive moment.

And it was despicable behaviour from Five, especially the way he acted towards Diego in his in-laws home (Or his own home, I wasn't quite clear on that). He's always been condescending and arrogant, and treated Diego in particular in a pretty shitty way, but I always accepted that he was a well-written character. This move destroyed that.

Plus, there is no getting around how weird it was age wise. Five is a man in his 60s mentally (actually, would he be in his 70s seeing as he said he was 62/3 in the beginning of the show and then they spend 7 years trapped?) and a teenager physically. It's creepy. Majorly creepy. Expecially as the writers basically threw this in because they decided everyone needed at least one love story. Which is not true. Platonic stories are just as important narrative wise, and in real life. Also odd vibes that Five's actor would have pretty much just turned 18 when they filmed all of that.

Also, did they just forget that Digeo has a stutter?? I thought for sure that he was going to stutter when confronting Lila and Five as that was a big emotional moment which tends to bring his stutter on or make it worse. But, nope, no stutter at all. (I also feel like Lila was quite patronising when Diego was stuttering last season, though that may just be me reading too much into it as I never liked her character.)

They also seemed to forget Lila's abilities. They made her stupid powerful, (and yes, call me petty, but it pissed me off that they introduced someone who could steal all of their powers and who was basically an extreme, overpowered, not like other girls character), but didn't keep it consistent. Why could she use Viktor's powers in the final fight, but no one else's? Couldn't she have just teleported them into the building instead of needing to dig the knife in deeper for Diego by saying how much she needed Five?

This season was a hot mess, and I have so many gripes with it. There were some good points, like Jean and Gene were fun antagonists, and the Diego and Luther brotherly relationship was great, but none of that can redeem just how awful it was overall.

[francesminos-tt]

Pride and Prejudice au -4-

I made a cocktail from the original plot and my own take on the story. You might not even recognize it as a Pride and Prejudice au😅 Hope you enjoy it anyway!

“Captain Stark is here!” Joffrey exclaimed from his usual vantage point near the window. He had planned to go out for a walk today, but Rhaenyra wanted her boys to stay home to help her with some needlework. Honestly, Joffrey couldn’t be of much help, for he was too impatient for the precision needed for embroidery, but he decided to stay in anyway. He was glad about his choice, because he would have missed so much if he were out.

“What is he here for?” Rhaenyra lifted her head from the embroidery and turned to her oldest son, “Do you know anything, Jace?”

“No, mother.” Jacaerys replied, equally confused, a pink blush climbing up his cheeks.

“He’s in full army regalia.” Joffrey said, drawing the curtains aside to get a better look, “Oh, he’s talking to Elinda now.”

Jacaerys hissed suddenly, as he accidently punched the needle into his thumb, a few drops of blood staining the white fabric of the handkerchief he was working on. He cursed under his breath and put the injured thumb into his mouth, sucking the drops of blood clean. Jace seldom cursed, not to mention losing his composure in front of his mother. Joffrey exchanged a look with Lucerys; they both knew what it meant for an alpha to visit his alleged lover in full army regalia. Only a proposal called for such formal attire.

As much as Joffrey longed to rush down and find out the true purpose of Cregan’s visit, he remained in his seat and waited for Elinda to bring the news. He wasn’t going to let his curiosity ruin anything, especially not in his mother’s presence.

“My lady, a Captain Cregan Stark is here to visit you and Lord Jacaerys.” Elinda’s voice came after a few minutes, “He’s in the living room. Should I inform your lord husband, my lady?”

“That will be greatly appreciated, Elinda. Thank you.” Rhaenyra said as she stood up from her armchair, “We will be down shortly. Make sure Captain Stark has his tea.”

Jacaerys followed his mother and stood from his own seat. He smoothed his hair and the old pale blue dress he wore inside the house, brushing off any loose threads or dust that might be present. He didn’t really need to, though, for he had to change into something more presentable if he was to receive any formal guest.

“I am going to change. Join me downstairs, dear.” Rhaenyra said, looking as gracefully as she always had been, “Help your brother change into something nice, okay?”

“Yes, mother.” Lucerys and Joffrey replied in unison.

“What do you think he’s here for?” Joffrey asked after their mother disappeared into her private dressing room.

“I don’t know. I’d say he’s here to propose to Jace if I have to guess.” Lucerys went to rampage through the drawer to find a perfect outfit for his beloved brother, “Where is the dress with dragon scales embroidery?”

“Do not bother, Luke.” Jacaerys spoke, “I am going to make such a fuss about this. I will just wear my usual walking dress.”

“No way! You can’t accept a proposal in that shabby dress!” Lucerys insisted. He was the most meticulous about outfits among his siblings.

“Who said anything about proposal?” Jacaerys sighed, “And even if that’s true, who is to say I will accept?”

“Don’t silly, Jace.” Joffrey dragged Jacaerys to the mirror and helped him out of the worn dress, “Cregan is a good alpha. He obviously cares for you a lot. He’s not overly rich, but he has decent income and he’s the heir to the Stark Estate in the North. He will make a perfect match for you, brother.”

“I never expected to hear such things from you, Joff.” Jacaerys said, letting himself be handled by his brothers since his object clearly made no difference, “What happened to not taking income and status into consideration when choosing a mate?”

“I still stand for my view. Mutual respect and love are the most important things in choosing a mate, but it never hurts to have extra financial security.”

“Since when did you become a relationship expert?” Jacaerys asked. He didn’t mean it to be mock, but Joffrey clearly misunderstood his intentions.

“I am not an emotionless fool, you know. I can understand relationships.” Joffrey said defensively, “All right, done.”

“Joff, I didn’t mean-” Jacaerys tried to explain, but Joffrey had already walked away. Ever since they returned from the ball in the Red Keep, Joffrey had become more reserved and quieter compared to his previous wild and talkative self. He was constantly in deep thoughts, but neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys knew what their little brother was thinking about. They only knew Joffrey had disappeared for some time during the ball, but Joffrey wouldn’t tell them what had happened. He only insisted that nothing bad had happened to him, and tell Jace and Luke that they needed not worry. Joffrey’s words did nothing to assure his brothers, but Jace decided to let thing slip for now. He knew how stubborn Joffrey could be. Joffrey’s attitude just now just confirmed Jace’s suspicion. It had something to do with relationship.

“Worry about yourself first, Jace.” Lucerys shoved a petticoat into Jacaerys’s hands, “I will keep an eye on Joff. You focus on securing your alpha.”

“Luke!” Jacaerys blushed a deep red, while Lucerys just smiled and went to fetch the rest of the dress.

By the time the three brothers went downstairs, Rhaenyra was already in deep conversation with Cregan Stark. Just as Joffrey had said, Cregan was dressed handsomely in his army uniform, his thick hair combed nicely and all pushed back, exposing his angular face. He was clean shaven, his nails clean and polished, and his face literally lit up at the sight of Jacaerys.

“How do you do, Jacaerys?” Cregan smiled brightly to the omega, “It is nice meeting you. Your mother is just talking to me about your embroidery project.”

“I am doing very well, Captain.” Jacaerys curtseyed slightly, “I hope my mother isn’t bragging too much about our little project. It’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t think a hand-embroidered tapestry is just a little project, Jace.” Rhaenyra chuckled, obviously been enjoying the conversation with Captain Stark, “The good captain is very curious about your work, dear. Perhaps you can show him later.”

“It will be lovely!” Cregan exclaimed, a bit too loudly, “I mean, if it pleases you, of course.”

Lucerys chuckled, while Joffrey just rolled his eyes. Don’t get him wrong. He adored Cregan’s clumsiness around Jace, but there was just so much puppy love he could handle in one day. In Joffrey’s opinion, Jace and Cregan should kiss and seal the marriage pact already.

“What is your business here today, might I ask?” Jacaerys asked, “I didn’t seem to remember you mentioned anything in your letters.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, forgive me for visiting out of the blue.” Cregan clearly didn’t expect Jacaerys to ask the question so openly, “But the issue is urgent. I need to sort things out before leaving for Winterfell.”

“Are you leaving?” Jacaerys’s voice dropped, but he managed to keep the polite smile on his face.

“Yes. I am afraid I have to go back to the North.” Cregan continued, “I just received a letter from my sister. My lord father sadly passed away a week ago. As his heir, and new Lord of Winterfell, I need to go back to finalize the inheritance with my lawyer.”

“My deepest condolences.” Jacaerys’s smile disappeared, replaced by a small frown, “Thank you for paying us a visit, captain, but you really don’t need to. I am sure you have a lot to process.”

“My lawyer helped a lot. I am no use in legal matters, anyway.” Cregan shrugged, “However, my business here today requires my presence. I am not here just to inform you of the bad news, Jace.”

“Then what are you here for?” Jacaerys asked, a bit more impatiently than he normally would.

“As you know, I am about to inherit the estate of Winterfell. Marriage is my top priority as the new Lord. I adore you a lot, Jacaerys, and I cannot think of anyone else as my mate.” Cregan’s speech started awkward, but as he continued, he seemed to gain more and more confidence, “My affections for you grows stronger each day. I know you deserve more courting, but I need to know your heart before I leave for Wintetfell. Please, relieve me of the torture of guessing.”

Joffrey had never expected to hear such heartfelt words from Cregan, not publicly, anyway. The captain seemed to forget about the fact that they were not alone in the living room. Cregan had his eyes fixed on Jace, his face flushed, his forehead sweaty, and he looked like he was about to explode if Jace remained silent for any longer.

“I am not a ready marriage material.” Jacaerys said softly after a while, “I have grown fond of you too, Captain, but I don't want you to make a hasty decision.”

“God,” Joffrey whispered, “just say yes already. He is obviously head over toe for you.”

“Shh, quiet!” Lucerys hissed, shooting Joffrey a warning glare, “Don’t let them hear you.”

“Are you propose to my son, Captain Stark?” Rhaenyra chimed in, moving to stand next to Jacaerys, as a show of support.

“I am.” Cregan admitted, taking a step closer to Jacaerys, who had his hands clasped together tightly, as if he feared they would reveal his true feeling, “My feelings for you is genuine and true, Jacaerys. I have been courting you since the day we met. My decision to propose is not made hastily, though I admit my father’s passing does make me realize how precious time is. I love you, Jace. I will take no mate if you refuse me.”

Jacaerys blushed, his omega scent becoming stronger, like a sudden burst of wind carrying the first sign of spring. The freshness of mountain lily became so overwhelmingly sweet that even someone as slow as Joffrey could tell that Jace definitely had feelings for the captain.

“Captain,” Jacaerys spoke, his voice soft like a lover’s caress, “I mean, Cregan. I am honored by your honesty, and I must say that the affection is mutual.”

Cregan’s face literally lit up, his dark eyes shining with ecstasy. He strode towards Jacaerys and enveloped the omega’s hands with his thick, warm, and calloused palms. It was heartwarming to watch two lovers confess their feelings to each other, and have such feelings returned with equal passion. Joffrey was happy for his brother, for Jace deserved all the respect and affection he could get. He should smile, and he really wanted to, but somehow, Joffrey only found his stomach clench and his eyes burn with emotions he couldn't name.

“Let’s go, Joff,” Lucerys tugged Joffrey’s sleeves gently, “I think we have witnessed enough.”

Joffrey let himself be dragged away by Lucerys, leaving the lovebirds alone in the living room with their mother. There was no doubt that Rhaenyra would agree to the match, even though Cregan’s proposal was abrupt and completely unexpected. If Rhaenyra agreed, Daemon would agree too because he would never oppose his wife. Besides, Joffrey thought Daemon would like Cregan, since they were both from the army.

“Well, today turns out quite interesting.” Lucerys said after the two omegas walked on the small path leading to the woods, “I would never expect the captain to be so blunt.”

“At least Cregan is honest.” Joffrey replied, taking a deep inhale of the familiar natural scent, “I am happy for them. Winterfell seems to be a decent place.”

“Except it’s too far. I can’t imagine only seeing Jace once a year.”

“They can buy a house in town.” Joffrey said, kicking a small rock with the tip of his shoe, “So that Jace can stay closer to us. I am sure Cregan will make it happen.”

“What if you are to marry away?” Lucerys asked, though he didn’t sound too curious.

“What do you mean?” Joffrey frowned, his heart skipping a beat, “I am not marrying anytime soon. In fact, I don't think I will ever marry.”

“What about Sir Gwayne? You seem to have had a great time dancing with him in the ball.” Lucerys clearly didn’t buy Joffrey’s words, “I’ve never seen you dance so happily.”

“I was just being polite, and Sir Gwayne happens to be a great dancer.” Joffrey shrugged, trying to brush the topic off, “You told me to follow the social norm from time to time, so I did.”

“Then why are you acting weird since the ball?” Lucerys dropped the bomb, the true question he had been longing to ask, “Do not think I didn't notice.”

“I am not acting weird.” Joffrey insisted. He was relieved that Lucerys only asked him about Gwayne, not Daeron. He couldn't admit that Daeron’s confession had been bothering him lately. Honestly, he didn't even understand why. He had made it clear that he could not return Daeron’s affection, so why did he keep dwelling on this?

“You barely go to the market anymore. Benjicot actually asked about you the other day when I passed the tailor’s shop. You are usually the one who helps mother with her errands, so Ben was surprised to me there instead of you.” Lucerys gently linked his arms with Joffrey as they walked down the path, “What’s wrong, Joff? You know you can tell me, right?”

Joffrey wanted to tell Luke everything so bad. He was always slow when it came to deciphering people’s emotions, but Lucerys was an expert of it. Lucerys was observant, smart, and highly sensitive to the subtle signs that reflected people’s true feelings. However, the thing was, Joffrey didn't think telling Luke about Daeron would make any difference now.

“How do you deal with so many admirers, Luke?” Joffrey asked, “How do you decide which one to talk to, while they all compete for your attention?”

“I am not obliged to return any of these affections, so I always follow my heart.” Lucerys replied, knowing full well that Joffrey wasn’t really asking about him, “Why? Did anyone confess their feelings to you, Joff?”

Lucerys’s words shocked Joffrey so much that he almost stumbled by a broken twig. Shit. Now Luke must have already guessed the truth. Why was Joffrey always so easy to read?

“Is it Uncle Daeron?”

“What the-” Joffrey managed to swallow the curse in the last minute, “How do you know? Does anyone else know? Did I make a fool of myself again?”

“Relax,” Lucerys said, rubbing Joffrey’s back soothingly, “I just took a wild guess. Well, not so wild. You disappeared with Uncle Daeron during the ball for a quite a while, after all, and you have been acting weird ever since. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”

Joffrey let out a defeated sigh. Great. His biggest secret was revealed just like that.

“Yeah, Daeron says he loves me.” Joffrey admitted, blushing a little as the words rolled off his tongue. He had never talked about the incident so far, and it was the first time someone showed him affection instead of his brothers, so the word ‘love’ just felt so strange on his tongue.

“And?”

“He proposed, and I said no.” Joffrey said, putting things as simple as he could, “That’s it.”

“Joffrey!” Lucerys’s eyes widened in surprise, “Why didn’t you tell us? This is serious. You should consult mother, or at least us, before you make such an important decision.”

“I am not marrying him, no matter what mother, Jace, or you say.” Joffrey claimed, “He’s too arrogant and too proud. He doesn't believe omegas can have their own thoughts, and he thinks mother would marry us off to the wealthiest candidate possible as if we are just meats.”

“Uncle Daeron doesn't seem to be such a terrible character.” Lucerys said after a while, “Granted he comes from a very religious family, but even Aemond admits his youngest brother is well respected and honorable.”

“Of course Uncle Aemond would say that.” Joffrey scoffed, “He won’t say anything bad about his own family.”

“I am not taking Aemond’s words without question, you know.” Lucerys continued, seemingly unaffected by Joffrey’s rude attitude towards to his potential mate, “I make the conclusion based on my own observations. Uncle Daeron seems to be an honorable alpha, Joff. He might have offended you, but perhaps he said those things because he cared for you.”

“You are deceived by his polite facade.” Joffrey said stubbornly, “You don't know his true nature because he did a great job of hiding.”

“Maybe.” Lucerys reached out to brush a fallen leaf from Joffrey’s dark curls, “And maybe not. Perhaps you are the one who are too blind to see his true self.”

Joffrey had no idea how true Lucerys’s words could be.

Jacaerys was officially betrothed to Captain Cregan Stark. The whole family rejoiced at the news; Lucerys and Joffrey already saw the good captain as their brother-in-law, Rhaenyra was impressed by Cregan’s honesty, little Egg and Vis liked Cregan’s story about the snowy world of the North, and even Daemon seemed satisfied with this fellow army man.

Cregan was to leave for Wintetfell tomorrow to settle the inheritance matter, so Rhaenyra took this opportunity to host a small gathering at her cottage. She invited Lord Corlys and his wife, Lady Rhaenys, who was a cousin of Daemon. The Velaryon couple had been a main patronage of the brothers, so they were exhilarated to learn the good news. Rhaenyra also wrote to inform her stepmother of the news, which Lady Alicent replied with a polite letter to congratulate Rhaenyra and Jacaerys, and also to offer her deepest apology that she could not make it to the dinner because she and her sons were to return to Dragonstone on the same day of the gathering.

“Did you know this?” Joffrey whispered, nudging Lucerys.

“No.” Lucerys replied with a pale face. He looked as surprised as Joffrey, or even more, his lips trembling slightly and his fingers tightening around his shawl.

“Uncle Aemond didn't write to you?”

“No,” Lucerys cast his eyes down, thick soft curls hiding the upper half of his face, “he hasn't written for days.”

Well, that was strange. As far as Joffrey knew, Aemond wrote to Lucerys at least once a day, sometimes twice, or even three times. Aemond even hired a servant boy to deliver his letters to Lucerys because the mail service was too slow and not good for privacy. It was strange for him to stop writing so abruptly. The decision to leave the capital was also strange, as if Lady Alicent and her family were trying to get away from them. Joffrey understood if Daeron wanted to leave, but why did Aemond agree to all this?

“Too bad my nephews can’t share the good news.” Daemon commented with his usual mocking smile. He never liked his nephews anyway.

“I wonder why they suddenly decided to return. There isn't much of a social scene on Dragonstone. Alicent should know that her sons are more likely to find a suitable match here.” Rhaenyra carefully folded the letter and put it on top of her other documents, “Is there something wrong with my father?”

“We met Viserys on our way here,” Lord Corlys spoke, “he seemed okay.”

“Strange.” Rhaenyra murmured, “I thought my stepbrothers are getting along well with my boys.”

“Are you familiar with Aemond and Daeron?” Lady Rhaenys turned to the omegas, “I’ve heard they are respectful young alphas, but I haven't officially made their acquaintances.”

“We have only met several times,” Lucerys replied, choosing not to elaborate too much on the details, “I won't say we are well acquainted. Right, Joff?”

Rhaenyra’s confusion grew because she knew how many letters Lucerys and Aemond had written to each other, but, as a wise woman, she kept her mouth shut for now.

“I suppose.” Joffrey said, shrugging. Though he thought Luke and Uncle Aemond were far better acquainted than him and Daeron, he decided not to expose Lucerys’s lie. Unlike others, he was actually relieved to learn that Daeron would be leaving, for he had no idea how to face Daeron after rejecting the alpha. Perhaps a little distance was just what Joffrey needed to forget about Daeron’s proposal all together.

Rhaenys didn't pry further, and her husband gladly took over the conversation to talk about his adventures on the sea. Lord Corlys’s story was fascinating, but Joffrey found it hard to focus on the old sailor’s story. His mind drifted, and ended up on Daeron.

The night went on as planned. The extended family shared a lovely dinner before Corlys and Daemon retreated to the library while the rest of them went to the dressing room for tea. By the time Corlys and Rhaenys left, it was already midnight. Joffrey found Lucerys sitting on his bed, wide awake, after the candles were all out.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Joffrey whispered, careful not to awake Jace, who had had too many cups during dinner.

“I can’t.” Lucerys sighed softly, a small crease lingering on his brow.

Joffrey threw a warm blanket at Lucerys and dragged him out. The two brothers went downstairs as quietly as they could, and settled down on the front porch. They used to sneak out to watch the stars when they were children, not yet presented, having all sorts of wild dreams about their future. There were no alphas, no marriages, and certainly no uncles.

“It’s about Uncle Aemond, isn't it?” Joffrey asked as they snuggled together under the blanket.

“I don't know why he hasn’t told me about him leaving.” Lucerys sighed softly, “He said he wouldn’t keep any secret from me.”

Well, even Joffrey could tell this promise was too hard to keep. Lucerys, the smart one, must know it as well, but the omega seemed to trust Aemond enough to buy the alpha’s words. Lucerys kept saying that he and Aemond were nothing serious, but Joffrey could tell from Luke’s sad eyes that it was not true.

“Oh, Luke.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around Lucerys, hugging his brother tight. He had forgotten about his own messed-up relations with his uncle now, focusing solely on making Luke’s sadness go away.

“I am all right, Joff.” Lucerys murmured, but Joffrey didn't believe a single word of it.

“You are shivering.” Joffrey tightened his arms, trying to warm Lucerys up, “Aemond is an ass for hiding this from you. I am going to beat him up for hurting you.”

“How? He’s already gone. You don't even know where he is now.” Lucerys chuckled, though he didn't sound happy at all, “It is okay, Joff. It’s my fault for trusting him anyway.”

“You are definitely special to him.” Joffrey said, “I can’t believe I am defending Uncle Aemond right now, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time you were together. I think he blushed when you agreed to dance with him.”

“Perhaps he is just good at pretending.”

“Uncle Aemond? No way.” Joffrey pulled the blanket tighter to prevent any warmth from leaking out, “He sucks at pretending, or he wouldn’t return other omegas’ flirting with a scoff. He must have offended a dozen of them just to be with you.”

“It means nothing now.” Lucerys rested his head on Joffrey’s shoulder and looked up at the starry sky, “He left. I don't think he will return anytime soon.”

“Maybe he has some urgent matter to attend to. Like, estate stuff. I am sure he will write to you as soon as he arrives on Dragonstone.” Joffrey followed Lucerys’s gaze, finding the brightest star in the velvety sky, “You deserve the best, Luke.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me, brother.” Lucerys murmured, the sadness lifting just a bit, “I didn't realize Aemond would have such a great impact on me. I am the one who is supposed to have the upper hand.”

“I bet Uncle Aemond is missing you sick right now.” Joffrey assured, “Besides, there is no winner or loser in a relationship.”

“You are wiser than I thought, Joff.” Lucerys chuckled, a real chuckle this time.

The two brothers fell silent, admiring the twinkling stars as they dwelled on their respective thoughts. They fell asleep eventually.

Aemond never wrote again. Two weeks had passed, and their one-eyed uncle hadn’t sent a single letter since his abrupt departure. Lucerys’s anticipation soon turned into anxiety, then disappointment, and finally acceptance. He went on his daily tasks perfectly, reading, going on walks, mending his little brothers’ clothes, etc. However, everyone could tell Lucerys’s smile was strained, and he was constantly distracted, as if his mind had been absent since he had learned the news. Even little Aegon and Viserys noticed that there was something wrong with Luke. Lucerys mixed up the sizes when making them a new pair of shoes, leaving Aegon with a pair of bright purple shoes and Viserys a deep grey one. Lucerys had never made such mistake before, so the boys immediately knew their dearest Luke wasn’t feeling well lately. Rhaenyra was worried, but she didn’t know what to do since Lucerys wouldn’t even admit that he was hurt. Jacaerys secretly asked Cregan to find out what had kept his uncle on Dragonstone, but the captain couldn’t find any clue.

Joffrey? Joffrey was furious. How could Aemond ignore Lucerys like that? How could Aemond leave without hesitation? How dare he hurt Joffrey’s brother?

“You look like you are about to kill someone.” Benjicot said, placing his elbows on the counter, “What happened?”

Joffrey wiped his hands on the apron and went to fetch the pudding he had reserved for Ben. Joffrey decided to work more shifts in the bakery because he couldn’t bare staying in the cottage. The sight of a sad Lucerys made his blood boil with anger and frustration. If he didn’t keep himself busy, he would die of fury.

“Here you are. I put an extra cake in. New recipe.” Joffrey purposely ignored Ben’s question, “Let me know how you like it.”

“Sure.” Benjicot shrugged, “Thanks, Joff, but you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Nothing happened.” Joffrey kept his eyes down, for fear that Ben might see through his lie. He was never a good liar.

“You haven’t come to the market for a long time, and when you finally show up, you look like a carriage has just run over you.” Ben said, “I am your friend, Joff. I know when you are not feeling yourself.”

Joffrey tried to deny, but another voice chimed in, causing him to jolt in surprise.

“Are you not feeling well, Joffrey?” A soft and polite voice came as the bakery door was pushed open, the spring breeze bringing in a fresh scent of forest drizzle.

“Good afternoon, Sir Gwayne.” Joffrey took a deep inhale before lifting his head up to greet the alpha, “What can I get for you today?”

Gwayne had become a regular at the bakery Joffrey worked in. The alpha came almost every day, usually during afternoon when there weren’t many customers. He would ask for a piece of cake, or some tea sandwiches, while having a lighthearted conversation with Joffrey. Gwayne was the only one whose attitude towards Joffrey never changed. He never pried about Joffrey’s life or family, their conversation always focusing on trivial matters such as weather or the new design of hats just shipped from Essos. Honestly, Gwayne’s visit was the only time when Joffrey could relax a bit and forget about the mess in his life.

“Perhaps you should take a break. You don’t look too well.” Gwayne observed, worry clear in his voice.

“I am fine. Had too much at lunch.” Joffrey made a random excuse. He really was a lousy liar, because his stomach grumbled as soon as the words left his mouth, exposing his lie immediately. He didn’t eat lunch toady. Why would he make such a bad excuse?

Gwayne frowned slightly, but didn’t call out Joffrey’s lie.

“Can I have a box of honey cakes and two ham sandwiches, please?” Gwayne said after a while, fishing out some coins from his pocket.

Joffrey nodded and went to get Gwayne’s order. Gwayne’s order was obviously too much for one person, but who was Joffrey to care? Perhaps Gwayne had some guests to entertain today. Joffrey placed the order securely in a paper bag and handed it to the alpha.

“Thank you.” Gwayne smiled, taking the paper bag and letting his fingers brush against the back of Joffrey’s hand, “Perhaps you can accompany me on a walk?”

“I am on my shift, Sir Gwayne.” Joffrey replied, the patch of skin just touched by Gwayne prickling, causing the hair on his neck to stand.

“Indulge me, please? I can talk to your employer.” Gwayne offered his hand to Joffrey, “I can buy your time if necessary.”

Joffrey hesitated, but Benjicot seemed to think this was an excellent idea.

“Go, Joff. I don’t have to work today. I can cover your shift.” Benjicot said, flatting his palm to Gwayne, “Six pence will suffice, Sir.”

“No, Ben,” Joffrey tried to reject, but Ben dragged the omega from the counter and snatched his apron before Joffrey could stop him.

“Just go, Joff. Enjoy your walk.”

Gwayne rested his hand on Joffrey’s lower back and pushed the omega gently to the door. Joffrey had no choice but to let the alpha lead him out of the bakery and onto the bustling street of the market.

“I apologize if I am being too forceful.” Gwayne spoke as they began to walk down the street, “But you seem to be stifling in there. I want to give you some room to breathe.”

“It’s okay. My shift ends soon anyway.” Joffrey replied, moved by Gwayne’s thoughtfulness, “Actually, I should thank you for dragging me out. I can use some walking.”

“Here,” Gwayne offered the box of honey cakes to Joffrey, “have a piece. I hope you like honey cakes.”

“How about your guests?” Joffrey was confused by Gwayne’s offer. Why would the alpha share the food with him, instead of the guests Gwayne might have this afternoon?

“Guests?” Gwayne seemed equally confused, “I don't have guests today.”

“Then how are you supposed to eat all these food if you don't have guests to receive?” Joffrey pointed to the paper bag, “I am not bragging, but most people use our products on special occasions. I don’t think you like honey cakes enough to eat a dozen of them in one go.”

Gwayne chuckled at Joffrey’s words. It was adorable that the omega always had a unique sense of humor.

“Well, now I remembered. I do have an important guest to entertain this afternoon.” Gwayne smiled, leading Joffrey onto a small path to the woods, “It’s you, Joffrey. I think we can have a little picnic in this lovely weather.”

Joffrey blushed. He couldn't help but feel flattered, his omega instinct satisfied by the alpha’s care and attention. Gwayne’s scent reminded him of the gentle rain in the woods, soothing and non-invasive, enough to chase away the anxiety that had been pestering him lately.

They settled under a tree facing a small pond near the edge of the woods. Joffrey could still hear the noises from the streets, but they no longer frustrated him. All the shouting and carriage moving was reduced to faint background noise, hidden by the nature sounds of wind brushing against the leaves. Joffrey had already finished three honey cakes, his grumbling stomach no longer complaining.

“I should bring us some drinks too. Sorry. It is inconsiderate of me.” Gwayne said after noticing Joffrey swallowing saliva for the fourth time.

“It’s okay. You already treated me to those lovely cakes.” Joffrey turned his head lazily and smiled. He was leaning against the thick tree, his dress pulled up to reveal his ankle and shin. It was highly inappropriate to expose his skin like that in the presence of an alpha, but Joffrey was too sleepy care.

“I am glad I stayed behind while my sister decided to go back to her lord husband.” Gwayne said, “Or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy your company.”

Joffrey’s eyes were almost half closed, but he did manage to catch something of interest. Who did Gwayne say? His sister? Lady Alicent?

“What do you know about her leaving?” Joffrey asked, sitting straight, “I mean, your sister.”

“I don't know the details, but my sister seemed urgent to leave. Our niece, a lady from Old Town, is to visit Dragonstone on her way home from Pentos. Alicent wanted her to meet Aemond.”

“Why Aemond?” Joffrey’s heart dropped as the thought of a distressed Lucerys came back.

“To make a potential betrothal, of course.” Gwayne replied, breaking a ham sandwich in half and taking a small bite, “Don’t you know? It is Daeron who encouraged Aemond to at least make an acquaintance. He thinks Bethany Hightower will make a fine match for Aemond. Since she is familiar with finances, she can help manage the Targaryen estate.”

Joffrey’s stomach clenched and his throat went so dry that he could not make a sound. Daeron was the culprit of Aemond leaving without notice? Daeron must have known Lucerys’s engagement with Aemond, but he still decided to talk his brother into leaving? Who was this Bethany Hightower, and how could she be the future mistress of Targaryen estate? Dragonstone belonged to Joffrey’s mother!

“Joffrey? Are you all right?” Gwayne put his hand on Joffrey’s shoulder gently, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Joffrey squeezed the word out through gritted teeth, “Thank you telling me the truth, Sir Gwayne. I really appreciate it.”

If Joffrey had any guilt from rejecting Daeron before, he felt none now. Daeron had just proved himself to be a hypocrite by destroying the happiness of Joffrey’s brother. Joffrey would never, ever accept an alpha like that.

[narrynukezankielover]

At this point in Ep 23 (Do You Believe In Miracles) I hate The Metatron because he tried to get the angels to not just go against Cas but to think that Cas is the bad guy and that he’s the hero but now he’s using Cas and Deans love for each other against them. He knew Dean was hesitating and that by telling Dean that Cas and Gadriel were in jail and their plan didn’t work was going to make Dean pissed off enough to attack him which he did.

At first I thought this look was because The Metatron just said this was all for Dean Winchester. You drape yourself in the flag of heaven but ultimately it was all for one man. I thought Cas was shy from The Metatron saying out load his feelings for Dean but then it clicked into my head he’s looking at the speaker. Cas is embarrassed that his feelings for Dean just got announced over the speaker and all the angels heard it.

I’m guessing since Dean was still alive when The Metatron left that he knew if he told Cas that Dean was dead (which he wasn’t at this point) that Cas would be in shock (which clearly he was) and he wouldn’t be able to think straight.

I love this scene in season 10 ep 1. Cas said I miss him to Sam and Sams reaction was just yeah. This makes me wonder how many times in the four months that Dean was gone has Cas said that to Sam. They both miss Dean but in different ways. Cas misses him like a boyfriend. He misses protecting each other, caring for each other, their special moments. Sam misses Dean like a brother. He wants Dean to not be hurt or to hurt anyone else.

At the end of this scene Cas looks soooo depressed and lost. I’m actually about halfway through season 10 and I know Cas said that angels can find people that pray to them, they can feel pinning or if someone wants to tell them something. This makes sense for this scene because not only can Cas not find Dean but he can’t feel him either. In the next episode when Sam tells him that Dean is a demon it’s like it clicks into Cas head that’s why I couldn’t feel him. He’s depressed that Dean is gone, that he probably for the first time since they met he can’t feel Dean, his stolen grace is making him sick, he’s not as strong as he was and Sam doesn’t want his help. He feels useless. Which is why I think he went with Hannah so quickly. She wanted his help and needed his help.

The other thing is I thought at first it was weird that Cas isn’t staying at the bunker but I think he didn’t feel comfortable staying there without Dean and Sam probably didn’t ask him to. I know Cas hasn’t told Sam how sick he actually is and maybe if Sam knew that he would ask him to stay at the bunker but he doesn’t.

I’m just adding this because I asked for more shirtless Cas scenes and I got it.

Also Hannah irritates me though. She constantly flirts with Cas, telling him that Dean and Sam are bad influences on him and wondering why Sam would ask for Cas help when he’s as sick as he is. She was the one that told Cas not to loose it over one man and she heard what The Metatron said over the speakers so she knows Cas loves Dean but she’s choosing to ignore it. Yes Sam asked for Cas help which I think he would do even if he knew how sick Cas is because he knows how bad Cas wants Dean back.

In ep 3 (Soul Survivor) of course Cas would control Dean with a hug. I love it.

When Sam was putting the needle of blood in Deans arm Cas couldn’t even watch. Cas is looking to the side. He can’t handle watching Dean having to go through this.

Then in the second picture Cas is finally happy again to have Dean as a human. This is adorable.

Dean has been human for a few minutes and he’s already flirting with Cas. Telling him he looks good.

Dean tells Cas I’m happy you’re here man. To me this feels like Dean is still feeling guilty for telling Cas to leave the bunker when he was human (even though that wasn’t Deans fault and Cas understands that) and he’s happy that when he needed Cas Cas was there for him.

This is just another gay scene that Dean is a part of. The guy told Dean to get on his knees and Dean said I’m flattered.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”