#i’m hungry now but there is nothing sparking my appetite

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i’ve been trying to eat during the daytime more because right now i only eat after the sun goes down basically and even though i still miss traditional hunger signals (ie tummy hurts) thanks to my new meds i am starting to feel and notice other less obvious hunger signals (ie irritability, difficulty focusing, feeling like i am incapable of doing anything, sneezing*) and so now that i know eating helps with those things, it’s just silly not to. except my stomach isn’t used to eating during the day and it’s a crapshoot** as to whether or not the food will send me running to the toilet. yesterday i went to a baseball game and had half of a soft pretzel and my stomach went “UUUHH??? it’s 1 pm? i’m not on shift what do you expect me to do w this” then later at like 12 am i had two microwave burritos and a plate of tortilla chips and my stomach was completely fine. stomach, we can’t keep living like this bro, we gotta start assimilating at least a little bit into the normal rhythms of the human species if we wanna start feeling a little better

* don’t ask i don’t know

** pun not intended but embraced wholeheartedly

[ghost-ghost-baby]

I’ll put a spell on you (Yandere!Omega!Izuku x alpha!Reader)

inspo was strange and beautiful (I’ll put a spell on you) by aqualung

a/n: boy oh boy,,,, this one is uh,,, 2k words,,,,

Summary: You were taking too long! What could Izuku do except find a spell to help speed things along? 

Or 

You and Izuku have been roommates for years, but you’re convinced he doesn’t like you and he’s determined to make you his.

warnings: big yandere themes,,, omegaverse obvi,,,, kinda drugging??? idk,,,, its a love spell but reader is already very in love w izuku just stupid aye,,,, very very mild nsfw themes,,,, cuts out b4 it gets too graphic, swearing, bonding, you get the picture,

“Seriously, Katsuki, you’ve gotten way too confident over the years. Was it because you needed a reminder of what it’s like to lose?” Your eyes scanned the blonde, eyebrow quirked as he struggled, “I can’t believe Shinso was right.” It was easy to block out the screams, your quirk always came in handy, even if it was just to shut him up, Rubbing your hands on your pants you turned around, eyes landing on the only other person. 

“Oh, good luck Midoriya!” You grinned, giving a small wave before you ran off.

You saw more of Izuku after that, the omega always seemed to be upgrading his costume, and Hatsume had almost killed you when he’d asked you to help with the designs. It was hard not to get close to the guy, and you’d tried your best! You didn’t have time for… for people! You needed to focus on your inventions. But Izuku was persistent, and you’d soon found yourself sitting with him and his friends at lunch. You weren’t the only alpha of the group, Iida and Todoroki shared your dynamic, a fact that didn’t seem to bother anyone. You were glad, you’d never really cared about dynamics, it was nice to be around people who shared that sentiment. You’d all graduated now, and surprisingly you and Izuku ended up sharing an apartment, you did work in the same area, it made sense at the time. 

“Are we still having dinner tonight?” Izuku peered into the bathroom, slight frown on his features as he observed you getting ready. 

“Yeah of course man, it’s just a lunch date so I’ll be back early.” You shrugged, using your quirk to bring your jacket over. 

“You could just ask me to get you your jacket.” Izuku shook his head, watching as the clothing floated over, bubble popping as your hand made contact.

“I know, it’s just a habit, I’ve always used it for little things.” You smiled as you put your jacket on, ruffling Izuku’s hair as you walked past. He was always fussing over you, or cooking, asking if you needed anything. It was cute, but you’d die before you admitted it. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, text me if you need anything.” You absentmindedly pressed a kiss to Izuku’s hair, waving before the door shut behind you.

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Izuku frowned as he flipped the bottle in his fingers, it seemed too good to be true.

“Just like the label says, omega, it’ll make anyone fall in love with ya! As long as there’s already a spark, of course! And it could trigger… their time of the month. So watch out for that!” The lady smiled at him, dark purple hair framing her face. Her eyes matched, although the purple was much, much brighter, and almost seemed to glow. Izuku nodded, grabbing the cash out of his wallet and quickly passing it over before he said goodbye. He didn’t want to be caught there, what would the press say? What would you say? 

You ended up getting home late, much, much later than you planned. You’d run into friends on the way home, you hadn’t seen them in ages and well… you’d never been good at saying no. You’d texted Izuku, but he hadn’t responded, and maybe you’d stayed out later to avoid his wrath. 

“God, I’m gonna have to do something to make up for this… something good.” You mumbled as you walked into your apartment, hands running through your hair as you looked around. 

“Izuku? Honey I’m home!” You called, trying to lighten the tension you felt in the room. It didn’t work, and your heart was in your throat as you put your bag down. You hated disappointing people, and Izuku was always so good to you. 

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want anything.”

“”Oh actually I’m uh… not hungry…” You trailed off as you walked into the kitchen, Izuku turning around from making something to look at you. 

“Did you eat while you were out?” You must be crazy, there’s no way that was an edge to his voice.

“No actually! I just haven’t had any appetite lately.” 

“You know you need to try and eat even when you have no appetite. I made tea.” Just like that his voice was back to it’s usual tone, and he sat down in front of you, pushing a mug towards you. 

“Yeah I know. Thank you Izuku, you’re always so good to me. I’m so sorry about missing dinner but I ran into my friends coming home and they dragged me out and I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay Y/n, we can have dinner tomorrow, just finish your tea and we’ll get you into bed, okay?” 

You were too drunk to disagree. 

You felt weird when you woke up. You weren’t hungover, but something was wrong. Was Izuku okay? Wait, why were you- you should make sure he’s okay. You were only in a shirt, you didn't remember changing last night, did Izuku help you? You barely remembered anything after you’d come home, you’d just talked, drank the tea, and then it was blank. The tea had been really good, it was weirdly sweet though, you had to admit. 

“Izuku? Are you awake?” You padded into the kitchen, squinting at how bright it was. 

“Of course, it’s already two, I didn’t want to wake you up.” You sighed when Izuku was there, safe and happy as he always was. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m just… hungover or something.” You slid into a chair, eyes trained on the omega as he pushed a banana and some water in front of you. “They’re good for hangovers.” 

“Thanks ‘Zu” 

“You’re going out?” You couldn’t keep the surprise from your voice, Izuku rarely went out unless he was working. 

“Yeah just a work thing! I’ll be back in no time!” The omega came over to where you were on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket because you still felt off. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“No of course not! I’ll be fine, it’s probably just a bug.” You did your best to smile, letting your friend hug you. He was about to pull away when you let your cheek brush against his scent gland, the action making you blush while Izuku smiled.

“I’ll see you when I get back!” 

This was awful, you’d been tortured, kidnapped, forced to deal with Katsuki, but this was far worse. You couldn’t explain it, but as soon as Izuku was out of your sight your anxiety had skyrocketed, and as much as you tried to fight it, you were pacing in front of the door. He should be back by now, or he should have texted! What if he’d gotten hurt, he didn’t tell you who he was going out with, what if- 

“Yeah Todoroki I’m okay, he was worse off than me anyway!” Your heart soared at Izuku’s voice and you were wrenching the door open without a second thought. A snarl ripped out of you when you took in your omega, sporting a few grazes and a bruised jaw that had not been there when he left. 

“What the fuck happened?” Your tone didn’t even sound like you, you sounded feral. Your hands quickly reached out, pulling Izuku into a hug and growling when Todoroki tried to say something. “You can leave, I’ve got him now.” 

Straight to your room was where you headed, gently sitting Izuku on the bed before you grabbed your first aid kit. Thank god it was only light injuries, you didn’t know what you’d do if something worse had happened. 

“Who did this?” 

“Just some random alpha tryna get too handsy, he’s in far worse shape than- are you okay?” Izuku’s tone turned concerned as you let out another growl, halfway through bandaging his hand. You couldn’t speak, you just needed to focus on this and- huh? Izuku was running his fingers through your hair, the action almost made you purr, surprisingly calming you down enough to finish patching him up. 

“I should have gone with you, I should have-” “Hey, Y/n, you couldn’t have done anything, it’s okay.” Izuku pulled you up to his level and you nodded, unable to stop how your hands shook. Izuku was so close, and he smelled so good, you just wanted to-

“Did you just lick me?” Izuku looked at you with wide eyes, only now taking in how lidded your own eyes were. A low growl bubbled up before you could stop it, and you were pushing the omega down on the bed and straddling him without a second thought. This had happened because of you. If you’d claimed Izuku sooner people would know he was yours, and he wouldn’t have to defend himself. Your teeth were an inch from Izuku’s neck when you pulled back, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-” 

“I don’t want you to stop, please Y/n.” Izuku’s cheeks were tinged pink, and god why’d you have to sit right on his hips? You could already feel him getting hard.

“Oh god, did I send you into heat? Fuck I’m sorry, I’ve been on suppressants I didn’t real-” You started, it was taking everything you had not to lose it. Izuku looked so pretty, pupils blown out and cheeks already flushed. Why hadn’t you done this sooner? Fuck. You slowly leant down, willpower decreasing by the second, and then your lips were on his. A whimper left you at how good he tasted, you’d never tasted anything this good before! You wanted more! Izuku was made for you, this only proved it. You loved him so much. 

Why did your neck hurt so bad? The last thing you remembered was Izuku being injured and you patching him up. A whine made you open your eyes, disbelief shooting through you when you saw Izuku. He was covered in scratches and bites, only wearing your shirt, and sporting a bright red bite on his scent gland. Oh fuck, panic set in as you sat up. This was bad, even for you. You'd done it now, he'd want nothing to do with you. God what had happened to you last night? You were always in control, and as memories of how Izuku had sounded the night before wormed into your brain you couldn't stop your whole body flushing. The omega let out another whine, snuggling closer to your side as if he could sense how stressed you were. Well, he probably could now, the two of you were bonded. You'd completely ruined his life with your selfishness, bonds were incredibly hard to break and the pair would never be the same again. But you couldn't make him stay with you. Oh he'd want to move out wouldn't he? How could he not? You'd completely betrayed his trust and acted like every asshole alpha you hated so much. You should move too, maybe to America? Somewhere far away where you wouldn't bother anyone. Warmth stung your eyes and you realised you'd been crying, how much more pathetic could you get? Izuku was the one who should be upset! You'd ruined his life! Arms wrapped around you as you let out a sob, immediately trying to push the omega away, maybe you should just kill yourself and sever the bond like that- Then at least he’d be able to find someone he actually wanted to be with. 

“Alpha… why’re you upset…?” Izuku yawned as he sat up, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, or look at him. The worry you could sense through the bond made your stomach turn, you didn’t deserve his concern! You were horrible, you were-

“Alpha, c’mon, look at me… please?” Izuku’s voice broke and you turned to look at him, eyes zoning in on the mark you’d left on his neck. 

“I’m sorry- I triggered your heat and- and betrayed your-”

“Y/n, I love you, I wanted this, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Izuku cooed, pulling your head to his chest and running his hands through your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like a weight lifted off of your chest, like all the puzzle pieces fit together, he was all you’d ever need.

“I love you too, Izuku.”

[darkktea]

In Your Eyes - ☾ Albedo ☽

You’d always thought there was something wrong with his eyes.

They were wide and blue, lovely, enticing. When you’d first met him, you had thought that his insatiable want for knowledge meant that the thing that lurked in his eyes was childlike wonder. Now, you knew it for what it was: calculated hunger.

He knew how to get what he wanted, and when you had first stared working with him and Sucrose, that had been a good thing. It meant that no question went unanswered, that no experiment went without conclusion. He always said that the means were more fascinating to him than the answers, but Archons, did he want answers.

You didn’t know when Albedo started paying extra attention to you.

You supposed that was the point; to lure you in, to make you believe that you were safe, in control, untouchable. And he had been very good at doing so. In hindsight, the questions he had started asking should have given you some indication.

But when had he ever given you a reason not to trust him?

It’s a nice day out, today. When had you started thinking that the days could be nice in Dragonspine?

The paintbrush slides against the canvas, smearing paint in red, like blood. You used to enjoy painting for the sake of painting; it was one of the things that you and Albedo had bonded over. Now it’s all you can do to hold the paintbrush in your hand. Even the weight of it, familiar, makes you feel ill.

“That looks very nice,” says a voice that is unwelcome. Your grip tightens involuntarily on the paintbrush.

“How are you feeling?” says Albedo, his voice as careful and analyzing as ever. Your paintbrush stills.

Like shit, like I want to die, like I want you to die, like I hate that this is what my life has become.

You don’t say any of these things. You don’t say anything at all. You see his hand reach around your head, index finger tracing the still-wet paint idly. When he pulls away, there’s red on his skin.

“What are you painting?” he tries again, and you know he sees the way your shoulders curl in on themselves.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. Your voice is so small.

He says nothing, but comes into view now. He’s carrying a plate of food. Your stomach twists at the sight of it. You put the paintbrush down.

“I’m not hungry.”

He raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“That’s what you said last night.”

You chew at your thumbnail. You’re not usually so involved. You don’t like it.

“It was true then, and it’s true now.”

He holds the plate out to you. Two mora meat buns sit steaming next to a large helping of salad. He’s trying to entice you; mora meat buns used to be your favourites. Now, looking at them makes you feel sick.

“You need sustenance. Eat.”

You turn back to your painting. That’s enough involvement for one day. He’s forced you to pick your battles, and this is a mountain you’ll die on. Besides, it’s true that you aren’t hungry. It’s because of him that you aren’t hungry.

He sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh that a parent might make when faced with a troublesome child, or the sigh that Albedo himself would make when something with his experimentation proved particularly difficult.

In your peripheral, you watch him hook an ankle around the leg of a stool, pulling it toward you. He sits, leaning forward on his elbows. You can feel his unnatural eyes boring into you.

Your paintbrush drags aimlessly across the canvas.

“Why do you make things so difficult?” he asks, and his voice sounds nearly… pained. For a moment, you find yourself nearly falling for it. But then you remember who he is, and how he had developed a specific way of gleaning reactions from you once you had gone so… numb. “You’re wasting away. It’s upsetting.”

He feigns emotion. He feigns pain. Hurt. It’s insulting.

So you ignore him.

“I don’t want to do this the hard way. It’s… unproductive.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek. Let me go, and I promise I’ll eat something, you almost say. You don’t, of course. You could, though. But you don’t.

“Eat,” he says, and there is a final warning in his voice.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, and you are just as surprised as he is when your voice breaks. Your eyes slip shut.

It’s the truth. The reality of the situation, of this, of being here with him, has stolen the luster from things. It has stolen your hunger for food, your hunger for life. When you look in the mirror these days, you don’t recognize the dead eyes that look back. You’re empty. You’re hollow.

A tear slips down your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is so soft, so gentle. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” It feels like a knife pushed through your heart.

When he reaches out to touch you, it is featherlight. It feels like being burned by the sun. You flinch away, and you hear him sigh.

Your head sinks forward, paintbrush fallen and forgotten, your knees pulling up. For a moment, for two, you say nothing. You wish that you could fold yourself up so small that you could disappear.

You wish that you could go home.

“Why am I here, Albedo?” you finally say, voice soft and quiet. You don’t look at him. You don’t remember the last time you said his name. It feels heavy and foreign on your tongue.

“Because it’s where you should be. Because you’re safe here.”

“Let me go home.”

“You are home.”

“Why me?” you ask, a question that has been asked countless times. And every time, he says:

“Because there are so many things that I want from you. There are so many questions that I need answered.”

“That’s not fair.”

And it isn’t. Why must you suffer for the sake of his curiosity? His insatiable appetite for knowledge should have nothing to do with your right to freedom. Besides, there is no knowledge that justifies this. What could he possibly want to know? What could you possibly give him?

“What is fair, then?” he asks, and his voice has hardened now, impatient, snappish.

“Not this!” You cry, and lift your head up to meet his eyes. This is the most emotion you’ve shown in a long time. Or, what feels like a long time. You don’t know anymore. The spark inside dies down, and you slump your shoulders again. “I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.”

He doesn’t leave. He never listens. Instead, he leans even closer to you, and picks up a mora meat bun, pressing it against your lips. His eyes are so strange, you think again. So cold.

“Eat,” he says, and his other hand comes around to pry at your jaw. Part of you wants to bite his fingers off. Part of you wants to scream, to fight him, to do something. But that part of you is small and withered now, suspended somewhere deep inside of you, like a flower in resin. Untouchable, unreachable.

And his eyes are so devoid of anything resembling sympathy for it.

He doesn’t care. He never did.

And he never will.

[forcefully-awoken]

Disruption of Nowhere

Chapter One: It Happened One Night

Read on ao3

Masterlist

Summary: You were a mechanic just trying to make it in the resistance, working on the Falcon. A confrontation between you and Rey leads to one of the most thrilling moments of your life. You two fall into each other, and into a relationship that explores the darkest parts of each other. Set during The Rise of Skywalker, though I will be playing fast and loose with canon.

A/N: This was originally posted to my ao3, I’m in the process of moving it over here as well.

Warnings: force choking, horny dreams.

Word Count: 3,019

Pairing: Rey x Reader

This wasn’t the first time you had been called to work on the Falcon, not by any means. But this was the first time you had been called by name for it. It was the first time someone had seen something in you. Now you would be in charge of servicing possibly the most important vessel in the resistance.

At least that’s the mantra you repeated to yourself as you walked down to the Falcon, making sure not to trip over any of the vines criss-crossing on the ground. The jungle was alive around you, the gentle hum of all the machinery blending in with the distant animal noises. It frightened you when you first arrived on Ajan Kloss, the thought that there could be anything out there, but nothing had ever happened. This was your biggest moment to date-- now you would have the chance to prove yourself in your own right, that you were not a leftover from parents who were better and more skilled than you. Now you would be able to prove that you were a skilled mechanic in your own right.

And then someone bumped into you, barely even glancing back to see if you were okay. You huffed, adjusting the supplies you were carrying before moving forward once again. You didn’t want to let anything ruin your day: this moment was yours. That was, however, before you saw the condition that the Falcon was in. It looked like someone had tried to make the Kessel run in it again and failed miserably.

“POE DAMERON!” you shouted, momentarily forgetting all pretense of professionalism, as you knew the so-called daring pilot and incredible pain in your ass had to be around here somewhere. The call had come to you quickly as the Falcon needed immediate repairs. “I know you are around here somewhere!”

“IT WAS FINN’S FAULT!” came Poe’s immediate reply as he quickly came around from the back of the Falcon. He pointed accusingly at the man following him. “He distracted me and I’m only so good, you know!” They both looked about like the Falcon on a good day- just slightly scuffed up.

“I did no such thing!” the former stormtrooper shouted, pointing his own accusatory finger right back at Poe. “I heard you yell at Poe last time!” Both of them were distracted by the approach of Rey and Leia. The approach of the General and the last Jedi forced them to quickly abandon their argument.

You rolled your eyes as you marched forward to the Falcon. You made small notes on your datapad and annoyed noises under your breath as you took in the damage, of which there was a lot. You sighed when you realized that it would take a week to fix everything. Maybe less if you worked through the night, which you were often asked to do. The Falcon was a symbol to the resistance: the ship they toted out the most. It would have to look as good as it could and fly like new.

“Get out of here and let me get started,” you muttered before looking around to see that there was nobody else around now. You wondered what you had missed now, stuck in your own little mechanical world. With a small shrug, you went about the first and easiest round of repairs. Despite these repairs being the easiest, they still kept you working well past dinner. You were only aware of the passage of time when your stomach began to growl. You blinked a couple of times, in an attempt to wet your eyes again. You came to a stopping point and rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to release the stress that had gathered there.

With your most recent repair finished enough not to explode or ruin anything else, you made your way back through the jungle to the main camp. The one tent that had been designated as a cafeteria was barely even a quarter of the way full of people. You grabbed some food off the table, not caring what you got. You sat down at a table alone like you did most nights, even when the caf was full of people.

It wasn’t necessarily that you wanted to be alone, but people were complicated. Especially now, with everything seeming so dire after everything that happened on Crait. You thought there was a rumor of a spy going around camp, but that side of the resistance was foreign to you. Another reason why you often ended up eating alone--too busy thinking about the next repair to try to carry on a conversation.

“You’re working on the Falcon,” a voice said, jarring you out of your thoughts as you ate. You looked up to see Rey. You knew of her, of course, having been rescued by her along with everyone else, but this was probably the first time Rey had spoken to you. You were struck very suddenly by how close she was to you, and for the first time you truly saw her face up close. There was something about her eyes that sent a pang to your cunt. They were dark, and there was something that looked like anger in them. You couldn’t figure out why she would be angry at you

“I, uh, I am,” you managed to mumble out, swallowing hard to clear away any nerves before you dared to speak again. Rey had her Jedi powers, which was frankly intimidating, but from all accounts she was a decent enough person to not use them on you. “I am working on the Falcon. Why? Was there something you wanted me to do?”

“I want you to not break it,” Rey immediately fired back, a frown on her delicate features. “That’s Han’s ship, you know; you have to be careful with it.” You were taken aback by the hostility in her voice. You two had never spoken before, and you had been making smaller repairs on the Falcon for ages before someone finally noticed you doing more than the average mechanic and called for you. Where did she get off with this superior attitude?

“I’m well aware of whose ship it is! I was in this fight long before you showed up,” you replied, not bothering to watch your tone with her. New Jedi Order be damned. Suddenly you weren’t that hungry anymore, and the food on your plate looked less than appetizing. You stood up, forcing her to back slightly away from you. Rey was taller than you, you realized now, by a few inches. You had to look up at her. Your eyes met, and you could see something in her eyes--curiosity? You imagined almost everyone on the base naturally deferred to her, but you had been here for years with your parents, and quite frankly, you didn’t care about her weird powers.

“I’m going back to my repairs now,” you told her. You were forced to move around her when she stood directly in your way. Your arms brushed for just the briefest of moments, and there was no denying there was a spark this time.You made sure not to wince when Rey jerked herself away from you. You told yourself you didn’t feel her eyes on the back of your head as you walked away, thankful there was nobody else around to see you.

You made your way back to your tent in a haze, trying not to read too much into the interaction. You knew what desire felt like, having had previous partners. But never had you felt anything from someone intentionally trying to antagonize you. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to apologize. The other part of you wanted to go back to demand an apology from her. You did neither.

It was only when you had gotten back and your roommate commented on it that you realized you still were holding your dinner. You put away your leftovers, in case your appetite returned later. You sat on your bed, scrolling through your datapad and prioritizing the remaining repairs, adjusting the list until you were happy with it. The leftovers would give you an excuse to skip breakfast the next morning and get back to work faster. With a plan decided on in your mind you set the datapad aside to finally sleep. As you tried to settle into bed it seemed impossible to quiet your mind enough to drift off to sleep. Your thoughts compounded upon themselves, and you tossed and turned until you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open a moment longer.

Her lips were soft but insistent upon yours, parting your mouth with ease, pressing her tongue in right after. You moaned into her mouth, eagerly trying to grab at her, only to find your wrists held down by some invisible force. You struggled against it, your naked torso needing any sort of stimulation, but the woman in your dreams only pulled away from you and chuckled, her voice dark.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” she asked, the voice sounding so familiar to you, but in your lust you could not place it. Her face was obscured by some sort of mist, and you were only able to focus on her mouth. You nodded, agreeing to whatever she wanted, desperate to get her hands or her mouth back on you. The woman laughed again, and it sounded dangerous.

Without warning, her hands shot between your legs, pressing them apart so she could settle herself between them. She reached up to part your lips, her fingers going immediately to your clit. The sensation of her fingers there shot pleasure through you like lightning. Her touch was not yet quite what you needed, too light to truly send you into an orgasm, and you threw your head back with a loud groan.

“Please,” you begged, looking down into brown eyes as the woman’s face finally swam into focus, “please, Rey..”

You woke up with a jolt, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the lingering tingling between your legs. You couldn’t believe you had had a dream like that about Rey. It had been a while since you had been laid, but to have a wet dream about a stranger was completely outside the norm for you. Your thoughts tended to stray towards previous encounters, or the intense novels you kept hidden on your datapad.

You were too keyed up to go back to sleep, though, and decided to work through some of your dream-induced lust with some more delicate repairs on the Falcon. When working, you were free to drop into a peaceful, thoughtless zone. Your hands would be the thing you had to worry about. Just the parts in your hands, and nothing else. The focus of doing repairs on the Falcon would help you ignore your dream.

You slipped through camp as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake anybody else at this time of the night. You had barely dressed, only tugging on proper pants with your night shirt to give the appearance that you weren’t running naked through the night. You didn’t need to add any gossip that you were having a secret tryst. You wanted to focus on yourself in the wake of everything that had happened.

It was the best time of night. Everybody had finally gone to sleep; even Poe and Leia had ceased their battle planning for some much needed rest. The two were prone to working late hours, with others coming and going as they planned out as much as they could. The camp was as quiet as it could be despite strange creatures making their strange noises all around you in the forest. There was an undercurrent of mechanical whirring, something that usually lulled you to sleep. But now it only reminded you that there was still more work to be done to get the Falcon to rejoin the symphony.

Everything in the Falcon sounded too loud when there was nobody else around. The hiss of the ramp as it went down. The lights as they clicked on. It all sounded like it would wake the whole camp and bring them running. You made your way up the ramp, fingers tracing over the familiar paneling as you made your way towards the cockpit. The Falcon was something you could see--and had seen before--in your dreams. It was beneath your eyelids when you blinked after you had worked on it so often. You weren’t sure when its repairs had become your job, but they had. Today was the first day of many, you were sure, when they would call for you to focus on it until you had fixed everything. You were one step closer to your goal of becoming a lead engineer.

You settled into the pilot’s seat, picking up a couple of frayed wires, as you reached around into the toolbox. You weren’t sure what the hell Poe had gotten into this time, but it must have been bad for the Falcon to have such extensive damage. You didn’t like to think about all the dangerous missions the others went on while you were stuck planetside. You had known Poe nearly your entire life, thanks to your parents. But that had been before everything changed. For a time you had wanted to be out there too, risking your life, but you knew deep down you would be better working on the ships rather than flying them.

Time slipped past you as you worked methodically, checking and double checking your work as you went. You were on the very last of the cockpit repairs when you realized you could hear someone else on board the ship. You figured it was another engineer, someone else who couldn’t sleep and wanted to be useful rather than toss and turn. The footsteps came closer, and you thought about pausing to see who it was, but decided that if they truly needed to talk to you, they would.

“What are you doing?!” Rey demanded, her voice harsh. Before you could reply, you were thrown out of the chair and slammed into the wall beside you. Her lips twisted into a snarl and she threw her arm out in front of her, using the Force to keep you suspended above the ground. You felt pressure around your throat, like her hand was there, squeezing it.

“Who said you could do this?!” Rey asked, though it didn’t seem like she was interested in an answer as she increased the pressure around your throat with a twitch of her fingers. You tried to gasp, fingers flying up to claw at the invisible hand around your throat--your lungs screamed for air. As they burned, your head started to swim. Everything combined to bring you teetering to the edge of pleasure.

She leaned in close to you, her eyes ablaze. Unbidden, your lips fell open, and your tongue darted out. Rey’s eyes immediately traced it as it happened, and they darkened in a different way. She changed the pressure on your throat yet again, and you moaned.

With that, the vice around your throat disappeared and the moment was broken. Rey jerked away from you like she had been burned. You took a long breath, sinking to the floor as she released the Force pressure that had held you in place. You felt a throb between your legs that you ignored as you looked up at Rey with wide eyes. Her face was completely red, a deep blush coming up from her neck. Her eyes were wild in a different way now; there was nothing but fear in them as she stared at her hand in horror.

“I-I-I’m sorry!” Rey burst out, running from the cockpit as soon as she realized you weren’t terribly hurt. You knew there would be a bruise forming tomorrow. You struggled to your feet with blood rushing back up to your head. You wanted to call out after her, but you weren’t sure what you would say. You didn’t think you should apologize for your reaction, but something nagged at you. Maybe it was the look on her face.

You finally made your way out of the Falcon a few moments later, as soon as you were totally sure you would be alone again. You rubbed at your throat lightly, trying to make sense of the reaction to the Force being used on you. You had never experienced anything like it before.

The sex you liked before always had been a bit on the rougher side, but there was something dangerous about adding the Force into the mix. You were forced to totally surrender yourself to something in that moment--you had no control over anything that was happening at all. It thrilled you.

But, besides, even if you had liked it--what about Rey? The look on her face had been horror struck; she seemed afraid of what she had done. You knew nothing about Rey and her previous experience. A new fear crawled into your mind--was Rey afraid of what she had done or was she afraid of the reaction you had given?

Sleep evaded you for the rest of the night, and you tossed and turned in your bed. Your mind raced with the different possibilities. Should you seek Rey out? Would she come to you? Were you to simply ignore everything that had happened? Part of you wondered if you should tell someone else that Rey had so easily lost control of herself. Nothing about this had an easy path out.

You heard your roommate stir when it was time to get up for the day, but you buried yourself in your blanket and waved her away, mumbling some vague excuse about not feeling well. You knew someone would eventually come to check on you, but you hoped to be asleep by then.

After a few more attempts to get comfortable and push the thoughts of your night out of your head, you were finally able to drift off, and thankfully, your dreams were pure nothingness.

[tare-anime]

A silly idea pop up in my head, greatly inspired by dancingpineapples fic: A Rose by Any Other Name Go read that amazing Regency AU! Summary:  Yor has been taking care of unwell Yuri for three days. She promised to always called the Forger residence to check on the family at a certain time. But today the phone didn’t ring. (AO3) ------------

Yuri stirred awake slowly, and he realized that for the first time since the last couple days, he felt light and his head didn’t pound anymore. The black haired man then opened his eyes and in a much better mood looked at the concerned face with blue eyes at his bedside.

Wait a minute.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” The man at his side asked him.

Ah… so apparently I'm still dreaming. It is impossible that this man was watching over me during my sick time. Tsk. Such a terrible nightmare.

Yuri then sank back to his pillow, and closed his eyes.

After taking a deep breath for several minutes, once again he opened his eyes. This time he double checked.

Head pound. Gone.

Nasal congestion. Gone.

Body ache. Gone.

The ceiling. Mine.

The bed. Mine.

The person that had been taking care of me…….

The young man turned to his side and saw none other than…..

“LoiLoi!!!” He shouted and abruptly sat up, “What are you doing here?! Where is my sister??!!”

“SHHH!!!” Loid put his finger in his mouth, then pointed in the direction of the couch at the corner of the younger man’s studio apartment.

The younger Briar then turned his head following the direction pointed, and was relieved to see that Yor was fast asleep at the couch. Covered in blankets.

“So I see that you’ve recovered. I’m glad.”

“Thanks to my sister. Not you!”

Loid chuckled, “Obviously. But did she get enough rest while she took care of you?”

“Of course!! I’m not a child who needs to be watched 24 hours a day!”

The elder man glanced at the sleeping woman and muttered, “I can see that.”

Yuri growled at the silent accusation, “I’ll let you know that I-...”

But the elder one didn’t get him to finish his sentence as he got up and walked toward the kitchen area, “So, are you hungry?”

The younger Briar gritted his teeth, “I’m not going to eat anything made by you!”

Loid again chuckled as he took a bowl and put a big spoonful of the dish from the pot, “This Southern Stew is Yor’s specialty. I cannot make this.”

Despite growling at the elder man, Yuri couldn’t stop the sparks in his eyes when he received the bowl, and within minutes finished the dish.

Just when the younger man relished the warm taste of the stew, the elder one needed to ruin the moment by speaking, “I can see that you also had your appetite back.”

“Like I said, I’ve recovered," He spat, but didn't fight back when Loid took the empty bowl from his hand, and refilled it with another portion.

"How did you know where I live?" The red eyed boy asked while receiving the bowl.

Loid lifted his brows, and answered, "Yor told me."

There's several seconds of pause there!  

"You lied!" The SSS officers accused the spy, "Why would my sister tell you about my place?"

There's a little twitch at the corner of Loid's eyes, when he answered, "Why wouldn't she? She's my wife, and that makes you my brother. My family."

Yuri really felt uncomfortable hearing the man flawlessly relaying the reasons. The fact that it was true that by marrying his sister, this good for nothing man did become his family too, didn't feel right to him. But Yuri couldn't retort. He blamed his sluggish brain for that.

So he chose to glare at the man before him, "Tsk. I'm fine now. You can go home."

Loid then lifted up both of his hands, "Okay… okay, I'll immediately go home after fixing your door. I’ll pick your sister up tomorrow morning."

Loid then stood up and went to the direction of the door.

"Yeah, just do tha-...." Yuri blinked, "What do you mean by 'fixing my door'?"

Then something clicked.

Hey, how the hell did he manage to get in?

Loid sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, "Well….. I didn't have the key. And since nobody answered my call, I had to think of the most efficient way of coming in…."

Yuri gawked when he saw the state of his apartment door, "You whaaat??!!"

---------------------------------

( A little earlier that day….)

Frankie was pulling the folding door to close his tobacco shop when a hand stopped him in doing so.

Glancing up, he met with a panting Twilight.

Lifting his brows, the shorter man silently asked why he was there.

Twilight then shoved a stack of cash in his face and whispered, "I need Yuri Briar's address. Fast."

"Whoa…. Calm down," Frankie furrowed his brow and eyeing the amount of money being offered, "Why don't you just ask Yor?"

"She's supposed to be with him right now."

"Then why would you need his address? Nothing will go wrong when the sister is in her brother's home."

"Look, Frankie, just gimme the address….."

Most of the time as an informant, Frankie wouldn't care less of what his information would be used by the spy. But this time, his conscience kicked in. It was not right to disturb a reunion between siblings if there were no urgent reasons behind it.

So instead of giving what the spy wanted, Frankie opted to fold his arm and lean on his shop's door frame, "Why?"

Twilight growled in frustration, "Operation Strix's fate is on the line here, Frankie…."

"If Yor didn't give you the address, then there's a possibility that she didn't want to get disturbed. So you better tell me the urgent reason, or else…."

The blond man sighed and finally relented, "Fine. Yuri is sick, and Yor went to his apartment to take care of him."

"So???"

"This is the third day she took care of him."

"And which part is wrong with that?"

"The part where we play as good husband and wife. She promised to call me each day at our agreeable time. Today she didn't."

Ah….. he misses her….

"People might get suspicious if suddenly a wife doesn't contact the husband. And this is the SSS officers house we're talking about."

And he worries about her…..

"If other SSS officers sniffed about these oddities, Operation Strix's fate is in danger!"

Frankie gave Twilight a ridiculous look when hearing all the lousy excuses. The informant then sighed and asked, "And what is the time she usually called?"

"4 pm."

He glanced at the clock in his shop, "That's not even an hour late yet….."

"Here, I'll double the amount. Just gimme the address already."

Taking a deep breath, Frankie then took a piece of paper, wrote down the address, and gave it to him, "Look, just don't make any scene, allright?"

"Of course! I'm just playing my part as the good husband."

Frankie just shook his head.

"Oh, and this is the key to my apartment. Anya should be home in an hour."

The shorter man just took the key and waved at the already running figure.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Spark In The Snow (Part 2)

This is probably gonna have more of a loose plot. I have a storyline set up here but some of the chapters are probably going to mostly just be shenanigans featuring Azula with Alcina and the Dimidaughters.

Alcina eyes the slumbering child. She has been a charming presence at castle Dimitrescu for a little over a month now. More than charming, the girl has become something of a gem to her. Something just as important and precious as her own daughters. Another black rose for her dress.

For all of her chaotic streaks and stranger mannerisms, the girl is everything Alcina could have asked for and then some. She only hopes that Mother Miranda will be just as impressed.

She isn’t sure what she will do if the woman decides that her fourth child is unworthy. What she will do if that simpleton, Karl is crass and crude with the girl. She wonders what the girl will make of Moreau--that cretin isn’t exactly pleasing on the eyes. She isn’t all to worried about Donna. Quiet and soft spoken Donna who would probably dote over Azula. It is Angie that might cause a stir.

She finds the the girl is prone to fitful slumber often waking up and crying out or crying out without having woken at all. She wonders what the girl dreams of. What troubles her so deeply. Alcina thinks of her own fears and nightmares; inadequacy, rejection, the very notion of losing any of her children…

She frets that all of these fears will come to pass in one fell swoop should Mother Miranda decide that Azula is a distraction or of no use. Absently she finds herself rubbing circles upon the sleeping girl’s back. Tonight seems to be a good night for her. So far she has slept without so much as a whimper or flinch. And maybe it is because this time she has fallen asleep propped up against an also slumbering Daniela.

Alcina stands up and tosses a blanket over the both of them. She takes a generous mouthful of wine and leans back in her chair. She closes her eyes but there is no sense in trying to sleep; her mind is unsettled and it will remain so until the family meeting comes to pass.

.oOo.

Azula isn’t sure what has Alcina so agitated. She only knows that she is by the lack of conversation. Having enough of the silence Azula clears her throat, “good morning mother.”

Alcina gives a small cough, if only to give herself that much more time to gather herself. “Yes, good morning, darling.”

“You’re nervous.” She observes and the woman grows more tense.

“I...there is to be a meeting with my family today. I will be introducing you to them.”

She furrows her brows. “You think that they won’t like me.” And for the first time in ages she finds herself worrying over whether or not she is good enough. “I won’t be setting anything on fire in front of them.” Agni, she has been careless. She has let herself grow too comfortable…

“Mother Miranda is a picky woman. Hard to please. I assure you that whatever misgivings she might have with or about you are no fault of your own.”

She knows that it is meant to be reassuring when she feels a hand on her back. And yet she can’t find it within herself to be reassured. Unknowingly or not, she has come here to get away from the pressure for perfection. And she has been thriving in her freedoms. And now this Mother Miranda seeks to take that from her.

Mothers… She has known only one good one. She looks up at that pale and elegant face. And she doesn’t want to lose her.

Her mother. Her mother and her three sisters. “What is expected of me?”

Alcina looks off for a moment. “She will probably take a liking to your fire. It is a...thing of interest.”

Azula nods. So this Mother Miranda is more like her father. She grits her teeth as a chill passes through her. “I will exceed your expectations, I promise.” She knows how to work a person like that. How to display her talents in the most satisfactory way, how to choose the most pleasing words, the words that people like to hear. “I know what I’m doing.”

.oOo.

But there is nothing that the girl can possibly say to reassure her. The unease and the feeling that she will lose one of the things that she treasures the most follows her throughout her day to day activities. She can barely eat for it, can’t bring herself to drink or rest. And so she finds herself at the family gathering hungry and tired and stressed among other unpleasantries.

She tries, to the best of her ability, to hold herself high and proudly. She observes the girl who looks most admirably collected and composed, chin up with her hands folded neatly in her lap in spite of the eyes that so plainly observe her.

Alcina has been so busy fretting over what her family might think of Azula that she hadn’t thought to worry over what she might think of them. Is it so unlikely that Azula will get a taste of them and decide that it is bitter and disgusting on her tongue?

“Who is this?” Mother Miranda asks.

And so it begins,  “Mother Miranda, this is Azula. You will find that she is a very powerful and clever girl.” She pauses. “And she has a peculiar ability. A natural ability.”

“I should like to see it.”

Azula looks to Alcina and she nods her approval. “Go on, darling.”

The girl rises and inhales deeply. For a moment she closes her eyes and then the flames rise and with them so does the temperature. In a small and rigidly controlled ring they lick a cold and dancing blue. She raises her arms and the flames fan higher, she brings them down and the flames burn low. She releases her hold on them briefly to kick small bursts into the air.

She is an agile thing, graceful and fluid, light on her feet. She is effective and mesmerising. She lands with a soft thud and extinguishes her flames. She doesn’t bend nor bow. Rather she looks Mother Miranda in the eye directly. Alcina’s stomach flutters--she can only shift in her chair and hope that the girl’s display has earned her enough respect for the offense to slide.

“Fascinating.” Mother Miranda notes. And in that one word, the girl’s fate is sealed. It is the only word that Mother Miranda says of the girl and her fire. The only word and Alcina isn't sure exactly what to make of it.

Surely it can’t be a word of disapproval, the girl would be dead already if it were. At Mother Miranda’s mercy, Azula has been left to mingle with Moreau, Beneviento, and that louse Heisenberg. That louse Heisenberg who she takes a rather resentful shine to.

She has a flood of questions for him about his silly inventions and machines and he has an onslaught of answers to return.

Decidedly, Alcina shouldn’t be surprised; the girl has a curious nature, an insatiable appetite for knowledge. And this world has technologies that she has never seen. Lightbulbs had been a thing of mystery to her and then a thing to appreciate--lightning bending trapped in glass, or so she had called them. Alcina can’t help but think it is absurd, but the girl has a collection of lightbulbs in her room, both burnt out and never used.  

“You could create some amazing war machines for the Fire Nation. We can take back our glory with inventions…”

The unease in Alcina’s stomach grows, what if the girl decides that she enjoys Heisenberg’s company more. She clears her throat, “we should head back to castle Dimitrescu, darling.”

Azula seems to hesitate, disappointment flickering across her face.

“Aww come on, Alci, the girl has an interest in this stuff.” He gestures to his ridiculous hammer. “And I haven’t had anyone willing to let me ramble on about it in years.”

“There will be plenty of time for rambling later.” Alcina replies stiffly. “My daughter has had a long day and could use some rest.”

“She’s sweet.” Donna notes softly. “I would like to have a chance to speak with her myself.”

“And what say you, Moreau? Should you like quality time with my daughter?”

The man bobs his head. “If she will talk to me.” He seems to shrink back as Azula’s piercing gold eyes find him.

“But you’re afraid of her?” Heisenberg laughs.

Moreau’s head bobs again.

Hurt flickers across Azula’s face and Donna reaches out, “don’t worry, Moreau is fearful of most people.”

“You have a strong personality, that much I can tell.” Heisenberg notes. “That’s more than enough to scare Moreau.”

“Right, of course. Timid men fear powerful women.”

Alcina smiles quite smugly, “that is correct, my dear. You learn fast.”

“This is all very charming.” Mother Miranda speaks up once more and this time Alcina isn’t the only one to go tense. “But we have other matters to discuss. You all will have plenty of time to converse with the girl afterwards.”

And for just a few hours Alcina can relax. Azula has been accepted into the family. She has left an honorable impression.  

It only dawns upon her as she is tucking herself in, that Mother Miranda may have a fate worse than death in mind for her. Azula is the perfect host. A good body to revive her own daughter with.  

[babbushka]

Hi Zannah 💛 I'm finally up at the same time you make the announcement yay. May I request #14 (face sitting) with Biker! Kylo, please?

His hands are still hot from gripping the handlebars, when he comes back to his apartment, back to you, when he winds his arms around your middle, molds his front to your back. He takes in a deep breath, buries his face into your hair, lungfuls of your shampoo, your perfume. You smile, you missed him too, it’s been a couple days since you’ve seen him. He’s wrapped in leather and it’s warm against your skin, but not as warm as his hands.

Those hands are like brands, when they cup at your tits, when they travel down down down your stomach, shove themselves into the waistband of your pajamas. It’s late, you’re standing at the counter, washing dinner’s dishes with a sponge and gloves because the fucking dishwasher broke, and you drop a plate into soapy water when those hot hot hot hands of his toy with your pussy, eliciting a little gasp from you.

“Hey.” You practically purr, melting into his touch, spreading your legs the smallest bit as you lean against him, “I saved you something to eat, you must be starving.”

And he is, you can tell, with the way he’s breathing, looking, licking at your pulse. You slide your fingers out of those comical rubber gloves and he spins you carefully so that he can face you, so that he can kiss you, so that he can ask you to,

“Sit on my face?”

With a grin, you whisk him into the bedroom. It’s not much, well, it wasn’t much when you’d moved in. Just a bed, a dresser, a mirror. No real decorations, nothing like that. Just white walls and windows. Now it felt more like a bedroom and less like a hotel room, not that it matters. No, the only thing that mattered was pushing him flat onto the mattress and crawling up his body.

You’re buzzing with excitement when you step out of your shorts, your panties. You’d been nervous at first, worried even. What if you were too much, what if you suffocated him? But every time you straddle his neck, every time you lower yourself enough to where he grabs at you and yanks you down with so much enthusiasm that it almost knocks you over, you can’t help but feel so empowered.

“God I’ve been looking forward to this pretty pussy all day.” Kylo shuffles down the bed enough to part your folds, to run his fingers through your slit, “Skipped lunch just to save my appetite.”

“Baby I made you that lunch.” You complain as you wriggle your hips so you’re comfortable, knees resting happily on the pillow on either side of Kylo’s dark head of hair as it sprawls out beneath you.

“I’m keeping it for tomorrow, I’ll eat it, I just – ” He makes out with your inner thighs, kisses and bites down hard, sinks his teeth in. “Fuck I just want to eat you.”

“Go on, come on, come on taste me.” You don’t want to wait anymore.

The first swipe of his tongue has you sighing, the first suck of your clit has you moaning. He holds you steady with his huge hot hands as he nestles his face into your pussy, nose prodding up right against your clit as he opens his mouth and moans in his own right.

You like that, like when he moans, like looking down and seeing his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure at your taste. If you could turn, you’d probably see his toes curling into the sheets as he grips your inner thighs hard, as he holds you there, doesn’t dare let you move.

“Fuck baby that’s good, Kylo – ah!” You lick your lips and let your eyes close, and he goes right to work.

It’s a throne, his lips. They’re plush and red and swollen just for you, as they kiss and kiss and kiss your cunt. His calloused thumbs bruise your hips as he takes his fill, drinks you dry, swallows all your slick that drips down his throat.

Your nipples are so stiff, stiff and hard and you purposefully push your chest out further so that they might rub against the scratchy fabric of your sleep shirt – one of Kylo’s old faded tees, not so black anymore from being bleached by the sun on his long rides.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck baby, I need more, I – oh,” It’s not long before you’re riding him proper, hips demanding more friction than slow hungry licks through your folds. You tremble, pleasure sparking up your spine, making your thighs tense as you push and pull your pelvis across the strong expanse of his mouth, his jaw, his nose.

You fuck yourself on his tongue, that firm speared muscle that’s so long, impossibly long, as it pushes inside you. It’s thick and hot and so wet – or maybe you’re the one who’s wet, who’s gushing around him? You don’t know, you don’t care, your head is thrown back in pleasure as you bounce on his tongue, fuck yourself with it.

“Yes! Unhg, right there – ohohoh,” You chase that feeling, and he delivers, fuck he delivers.

He may have a grip on you, but you hold him just as tight, a hand fisting his hair, keeping him there. His eyes are closed but he looks like he’s in heaven, and you’re working on your way to join him, pleasure building building building as your body rolls and heaves above him.

You pinch at your tits, roll them underneath your thumbs, moaning and gasping with how the electricity sizzles all the way down to your clit, your clit which Kylo’s wrapped his mouth around, is giving all his attention to.

“More, give me more, pleasepleaseplease baby.” You demand, you beg, you plead, anything that’ll give you what you want.

He slides in a couple fingers, thick hot hard, plugs your pussy up with them as he grazes his teeth against your clit, as the tip of his tongue spells his name out, makes you shout it out, makes you move harder faster rougher on his face.

“Fuck, god fucking – ” He grunts against your pussy, “Shit!”

Behind you, something hot hits your back, and only then do you realize he’s been jerking off. One hand fingering your gspot while he eats your cunt out, the other tugging at his cock as he suffocates into your pussy. That thought pushes you over the edge, and you have to throw a hand out to clutch at the headboard so you don’t do collapsing over, your body jolting, trembling over his mouth.

You’re over the moon, when you do eventually let yourself fall onto the bed next to him. You fall backwards, so your head is by his feet, and you gently rest your cheek against one of his ankles. He smears a sticky come covered hand over your tits, likes seeing how it catches in the moonlight. You know he’ll cover you in more soon, with the way his cock is still twitching.

“I’m a mess.” You smile at him.

“Mhm.” He says, always a man of so many words.

“You better clean me up.” You raise an eyebrow, playful, challenging, dangerous.

He huffs out a little laugh, reaches over onto the nightstand and pulls himself out a pack of cigarettes, lights one up in the dark.

“Oh believe me sweetheart,” He says blowing smoke, “I will.”

[gothchickwriting]

Sakamakis/Mukamis x Witch! Reader Headcanons

Request: hi 🐻 if the requests are open, can I ask you a headcanon? in particular, how would the sakamaki and mukami react if they discovered that the reader is a powerful witch? sorry for my bad english 😔, if you don't feel like writing this my request you can safely cancel it and I thank you for your attention, honey 💙

Ahhhh! I'm sorry this took so long. Writing Kou and Laito makes me nervous since I feel like I can never do them justice. Enjoy, Babes!

Warning: This contains blood, blood drinking, abuse, dubious consent, smut???, and the Dia-Boys being Dia-Boys.

Sakamaki Household:

You were different than the other sacrificial brides. They can smell it on you. A sweetness rolls off of you in waves and it's your fault for smelling the way you do.

Some surround you and all you can see are sharp teeth at every angle waiting to dig into you. Your heart is thrumming in your ears and you push them. Physically... mentally... spiritually. It's enough to knock the closest ones back and gain some distance before that same energy crackles around your fingertips.

You take a stance, but your back is against the wall. It's as much of a shock to you as it is to them to see some of the objects nearby float. A nearby window has a crack that spiderwebs wickedly along the glass.

The boys are more stunned than hurt. They're vampires. It's going to take more than that to really ward them away. If anything, a power like that makes them crave you even more.

Shu Sakamaki:

He was sure witches had died out centuries ago. They were in limbo within society, not belonging anywhere. Too weak for the demon world and an object of fear for humans who didn't have that sort of power.

And you had a lot of it.

He'll provide you with a tome or two in the form of lounging around a forgotten section of the family library. It would put you on the right track to harnessing your potential.

But if you read your incantations too loud and disrupted his sleep? Expect a moody, grumpy Shu.

But your blood?

It was all worth it for a taste.

You had been studying quietly as you could. The goal you've pored over endlessly this entire week was to make the cushion in front of you float. It seemed to taunt you from its position on the table, undisturbed as much as you've tried. The last cushion you attempted this with exploded into a plume of feathers. You muttered your incantation quietly and you felt that familiar energy spark to life at your fingertips. Much to your glee, the pillow shifted and began to lazily rise. All of your concentration was cut short by the hand that swallowed your wrist.

The cushion, like the one before burst into a flurry of feathers that made a mess of your study area.

"You're loud." It was all Shu said to you before you were yanked down onto his lap. He'd been resting in a chair for a few hours now as you read. What he muttered to you was nothing new. You're bothersome, you're noisy, you're a hopeless little witch, aren't you? After hearing all of it, you wonder why Shu even puts up with you aside from when you take care of him when he's too lazy to do it himself. And then you're reminded why when he bites you.

The blonde's bites are slow and somehow less painful than you think they'd be even though the piercing of your skin seems so loud in your ears. He takes his time. Shu's languid swallows fill the silence of the library along with the puffing of your breath which melts away into coos when the initial pain fades and is replaced by something much better.

You're on a cloud with the distant violins that sing from his headphones.

And then you feel dizzy. "Shu." You tap his chest. "Shu... I-I can't." You stumble over your words, tongue-tied and dazed. He pulls away and laps your wound closed with a slow sweep of his tongue. The rush your blood gives him is amazing and he can feel his power grow with every swallow.

You're the perfect wife for the next Vampire Lord.

Reiji:

His brothers are undeserving of such a powerful witch. They don't have the drive to teach you what you need to know. Mastering magic takes discipline, and if there was anyone within this house who had that quality, it was Reiji.

Unlike Shu's lazy approach, he expects you to study. Reiji provides you with tomes and ingredients and he wants to see the fruits of your labor.

If your spells and incantations aren't precise? You clearly didn't study hard enough. Your hands become intimately familiar with a ruler or his crop for each mistake you make.

His patience and "kindness" has its price and the price is blood.

Your yelp carried throughout Reiji's study when he swatted the back of your hand with the crop that had been held so casually by his side. The chalk in your hand was dropped as you clutched the skin that would no doubt welt within moments. "Honestly." The vampire drawled. You could almost taste the venom behind the word and it made your muscles lock in fear just like when you heard that damn crop whistling through the air. "Must I hold your hand every step of the way?"

You were quick to shake your head. "No, Sir." The term fell from your tongue easily. Reiji gave a hum. Hungry eyes bore into the reddened skin that you so desperately attempted to hide and soothe.

"Then I suggest you finish that sigil and summon a familiar."

And so you did.

Your hand was shakier than it was before and sweat dotted your brow from your concentration. There was no describing the stress about drawing this out to perfection. The room was getting hotter as your swirling patterns began to complete the symbol you so desperately had to finish. And, as fate would have it, your chalk broke from the force you were drawing with.

The candles in your circle died out all at once and the stifling heat faded. Your mouth opened up but you were just so crushed. "I-I can do it again." You scrambled to correct yourself. "I just need more chalk... Sir."

But Reiji wasn't pleased. Not in the slightest. His crop was set on the desk of his study and you could feel how your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Reiji tended to get creative when he was unhappy and scenarios played out in your mind, each was worse than the last.

Psychological torment could be just as satisfying to him as the physical side.

Gloved fingers hooked into the collar of your shirt as he knelt beside you on the carpet. He pulled it down far enough to get at where he wanted. Reiji scared you to death. He could make his bites feel like death or have you gasping out from ecstasy. The vampire bit just below your collarbone and you swore that you felt him graze the bone with the puncture.

You shrieked and foolishly grasped at his button-up, but with the high that your blood gave, he didn't seem to care at the moment. His swallows were purposeful and you couldn't hold back the tears as a burn flooded your body. Just when you began to think that you might actually die, he pulled away.

Fangs that were still a dizzying red were flashed with a sadistic grin as he took in the look on your face. "Go on then. Use the healing incantation I taught you." Reiji stood to collect his crop once more. "I assure you, you'll be using it plenty tonight."

Ayato:

Of course, the one who deserves to drink from a witch is Yours Truly. Don't you agree?

Whether you do or don't, it doesn't matter. Ayato isn't asking for your permission.

He's telling you that you're his blood bag, and you need sate his appetite... Or he knows how to make his feedings hurt.

Do you have a spell for that? No. He didn't think so.

Ayato will drink from you until black spots dance across your vision and you don't have the energy to gather up your magic anymore.

His bites along your neck are sharp and aggressive in his excitement. Ayato doesn't even stop to sip a single drop from the scrapes and small punctures along your skin. "Heh. What a rush." He pulls away to watch the blood leak into your collarbone before dipping in to greedily drink from the small pool he's created.

"Oi. Don't pass out on me." The back of his hand taps your cheek as black spots appear in front of your eyes. "It's your fault for being so damn addicting in the first place." He sneers at you before leaning down to take his fill once more.

Your struggles are weak. You can barely push at his chest physically let alone use any magic to throw him across the room. With each sip, your mind grows fuzzier. He enjoys the fight in you, he's said so. But Ayato isn't one who likes having his meals interrupted.

So Yours Truly found a way around the tricks you have up your sleeve.

He licks over to wounds to close them and finds that you've gone limp. Ayato huffs as he looks over your unconscious form.

"Tch... We didn't even get to the good part."

Laito:

So you're a witch? How exciting.

Laito's never slept with a witch before, but he's sure that he can break you down the same way every mortal woman has.

If not, well, he's going to have to learn and the best way is through practice.

"Pretty Witch", "Witch-Chan"

He teases you the most without a doubt: "I can't help myself from coming back, Pretty Witch. You put a love spell on me, didn't you?"

Did you know that when he makes your eyes start to roll that you both float a bit off the bed? How dirty.

"My poor little witch." The redhead coos as he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. He loved that look on your face. Flushed and wanting as you gripped at his jacket. You were as addicted to him as Laito was to you. He chuckled low into the skin of your neck as he teased you. "I didn't think that you could get tired out so easy. Fufu... But I guess that you don't need stamina if you have all of that magic, do you?"

You fell for the taunt, but it wasn't quite what he expected.

Your hand moved to knock that damn hat off of his head before your fingers weaved through the soft tresses of his hair. You fist your hands into it and pull him into a hungry kiss to shut his smug mouth up for a moment. Laito's hands press harder into the wall that he's trapped you against as he gives a soft sound of pleasure and approval into your lips.

Laito can taste the energy that radiated off of you. It was like running his tongue along a battery. And he. Fucking. Loved it. He practically melted when you bit his lip. It was hard enough to split that perfect, pale skin but he still grinned despite the red that dripped down his chin. "Pretty Witch-" His fingers drummed along the inside of your thighs. "You're at your best today. Fufu. Show me how far that can get you." He couldn't stop the giggle as you pulled him in for another bruising kiss.

Kanato:

Out of any of his siblings, he thinks your powers are amusing.

With Kanato, it's sink or swim. It's hard to tell what's on his mind. He'll go from hot to cold in seconds, so it's better to try and stay on his good side.

That spell your mumbling better be nice, or he'll have to sew those pretty lips of yours shut.

You're awfully cute thinking that you outnumber him with that gremlin familiar of yours. What? Didn't you know? He can make Teddy play too.

And you better pray to a deity that's willing to save you if one of your spells go array and Teddy is caught in the fray.

Kanato will burn you like the witch you are.

You don't know why you'd hoped that today would be different. Every day after lunch, Kanato would have a table for you both set. Pastries would be piled beautifully atop their dishes, and Kanato had a knack for pairing the perfect tea with your snacks every time.

At first, you were wary that he'd drug them somehow to make you compliant. Most days you wish he did.

At least you'd have an excuse as to why his bites felt so nice. "Mortal women tend to get angry if they don't feel good, don't they?" But you endured it for your familiar who was seated next to Teddy. You could see it in their eyes. They wanted to help, even if Kanato hurt them until they disappeared to their plane to recover. But you took comfort in your gremlin.

Your familiar was the only good thing in this house. They did their best to pet at your hair when you cried when the reality of your situation hit you hard. They even went so far as to collect little baubles to help you heal and to negate the effects of your anemia.

They didn't deserve to suffer.

Kanato sunk his fangs into your wrist. You couldn't help but shiver. The small vampire shuddered against your skin as he sipped from you as if you were a fine wine instead of a person. You might as well be with how he assured you that your blood was the finest quality.

"Amazing." You barely ignore the blissful heat that radiates from your head to your toes to look at Kanato. He observes the energy that surrounds your wounds once he's pulled away to mend them closed.

You don't know why you hoped today would be different. That Kanato would choose the pastries over you.

Subaru:

Subaru is the most mistrusting of the Sakamaki bunch. His disdain doesn't match his kind gestures. It sends a number of mixed signals.

He'll gift you talismans to prevent his family from sucking your blood, a book filled with wards to draw on your door and windows, and a knife.

The latter is a last resort with these new comforts.

When he visits you, he's likely to accuse you of casting a spell on him. He knew he couldn't trust a witch. What did you do? Make him want to be your guardian? Are you slowly taking his will?

He's hungry and yet all he can do is take his frustrations out on his surroundings.

But there's a small, small part of him that's proud when he sees his gifts at work. He's able to protect one thing in his life.

You must seem like a madwoman with the symbols etched onto every surface of your room. You could even accept those claims. When you see those same protective wards glare at you through the night, you know it's excessive. The talisman on your neck doesn't leave you. Ever.

Even if the brothers threaten to break your skin or bones, you refuse to take it off. It seems to make them dizzy and nauseous. You rush into the kitchen some nights to fill your room with enough food to get by.

You're wise enough to know that it's better to reduce the chances of receiving the ire of vampires by closing yourself off. They feel cheated and you feel victorious.

Your attention is ripped away from your tome and jar of marshmallow fluff by a knock at your door. The only way they can come in is if you open your door. You swallow and set your book and snack on the nightstand.

"Woman, if you don't open this damn door, I'll kick it down."

There wasn't a doubt that Subaru would try and you rush to open it before his thin patience snapped. Your door is opened to reveal your guardian who holds one of the best gifts so far. A dinner tray with a bowl of steaming, homemade soup. His eye isn't on you for long. "Here... I don't want you getting sick from eating that crap all the time." The young man jerks his head towards the marshmallow fluff.

You take the tray with a small 'thank you' before hesitantly taking a step back to give Subaru enough room to enter. He sits with you on your bed as you eat in relative silence. The vampire sits as far away as possible and attempts to give a sly rub to his temple as the talisman begins to work its magic.

Subaru looks deathly pale. You'd say he looked ill if you believed a creature like him could get sick. You take a final bite before setting the tray aside. "I know you're hungry." The vampire stiffens at this.

Slowly, you begin to reach up to unclasp the necklace. "So let me do this for you." Your final line of defense is tucked into the drawer of your nightstand.

"I'll break you." And you didn't doubt his threat at all.

The Mukami Household:

They are likely to whisk you away after receiving orders from "that person". The brothers need to get more powerful if they can ever hope to live up to their expectations. If "that person" says that feeding off of a witch is how they're supposed to accomplish that? Consider it done.

Here is where you can expect your powers and abilities to shine.

Honestly, it might be more about them hoping that you'll somehow "gift" them a power of sorts. Example: If you can see the future through brief visions, they would hope to do that as well after drinking your blood. That must mean you're their witch and it's destiny, right? Your blood chose them.

Ruki:

Like Reiji, he'll expect you to study and hone your skills.

You aren't quite livestock, more like a servant. You're expected to perform your duties as their witch without question or fail.

After all, Ruki could find very creative ways to make sure you remember your place.

Drained and locked in the dungeon will do for the first offense.

But if you perform well? It's the sign of a good master.

... And maybe he'll gain some of those abilities in time?

"Again." The order you received seemed nearly impossible. Sweat dotted your brow from exertion and concentration. There were thirty candles within the dining room and you had to light them all at once.

Ruki didn't doubt your power. Far from it. He simply wanted you to be more precise with your spellcasting. He glanced at you from the pages of his book. You clenched your fist to summon a wind to snuff out the flames. That was the easy part...

Heat spawned at your fingertips as you rubbed your hands together before you let the energy flow forward with a flourish. You swallowed and glanced over to each flickering light... twenty-eight of them.

The halfling snapped his book shut. "Again." You clenched your fist once more and wiped the sweat from your brow, ready for a long night of practice.

Yuma:

You'll definitely have more direction on becoming a green/garden witch with Yuma. He'll teach you everything you need to know. How to grow your plants, care for them, dry and store them away for future potions.

He'll make room in his garden for you and the ingredients for whatever you'll need.

Yuma is very vigilant about your gardening. If you don't have a green thumb, expect to have one after a few weeks of coaching.

He believes that part of your magic could stem from eating good food, so expect him to give you fresh fruits to start your day.

God forbid if you give him an apple. "You tryin' to poison me, Witch?" He'll still eat it with a big grin on his face.

You toiled away on prepping your latest batch of tinctures in the spacious kitchen. The activity was relaxing in itself. It kept your hands busy and creating them was slowly becoming a hobby. You'd nearly finished putting a lid on your third when you felt a rough hand on your hip. The other was busy brushing the hair away from your neck. "Yuma-" You attempted to bat his away. "I'm busy."

Your reasoning didn't give the half-vampire much pause as his nose skimmed along the back of your neck. He bent down far enough to eye your progress before he scoffed. You could feel his grin blooming against your neck. "I'm not seeing anything that can't wait."

It was all Yuma offered you before you felt his fangs pierce the skin of your neck.

His gulps were as greedy as the arm that snaked around you. It was something you were grateful for since you doubted your hold on the countertop could keep you from buckling. He always drank until you were dizzy. Whether he did it out of his own enjoyment or simply because he needed more blood to fuel a vampire his size wasn't clear to you. For all you knew, it could be a mix of both.

Finally, he pulled away and licked at the wound until it closed. You were dizzy, you were flushed, and you doubted you could finish up your tinctures if you tried. "C'mon, Witch." Yuma lifted you up and secured an arm just above your thighs. "We're taking a break."

Kou:

Kou with a witch is the bane of Ruki's existence. The idol always seems more energized after drinking from you.

Expect him to hunt you down and bite you before his shows and maybe even after if his meet and greets with his fans wearing him out. He's almost always sure to flash you that charming smile the girls fawn over when he's finished. As if he didn't just get done draining you.

"You taste so good, Pretty Kitty. You saved the best blood just for me, didn't you?"

Witch? More like a black cat. There's no way around it, no matter how much you insist.

But he's expecting... something. Anything. The rush your blood gives is amazing, but Kou expected to gain some of those neat little abilities of yours.

Don't you know that this is a give and take relationship? He's been so kind to you. The leeway he gives you sickens Ruki to no end.

So maybe... he needs to shorten your leash and remind you why you're here.

The puncturing of your forearm earned a bit of a yelp. You should have been used to fangs piercing into your skin, but Kou sucked at your wounds so hard. He dug into you as if this time would be any different from the last. The sharp pain didn't fade and it took you digging your fingers into the plush couch arm to keep yourself from ripping your arm away and creating nasty gashes.

He might switch from his kind persona to an unforgiving warden if you did. Kou would probably be upset enough to let you simply bleed out for a while before he considered lapping at your wounds to close them.

His desperate suckles died down as the rush of magic seemed to flow through him soul deep. A please hum reverberated against your skin, and if you didn't know better you'd say he was purring. Kou pulled away with a sloppy pop before his tongue swiped over the wounds he had inflicted before they faded away into your skin.

You were lightheaded and the phantom pain still throbbed against your skin, yet there was nothing to show for it aside from the evidence Kou wiped away in front of his vanity.

"Thank you, Pretty Kitty." The blonde chirped like a kid who'd just gotten a treat. "Now, behave yourself until I get back. The show won't be too long." He shot a wink your way before he left his dressing room. He was bouncing with energy as he made his appearance on the stage, and the cheers could be heard from where you'd slumped over on the couch. You were too exhausted to do anything else.

Azusa:

He's intrigued by your powers, and he's as much of a helper as he is a disaster waiting to happen.

Azusa is content with watching you work or helping when he's able.

He's probably the only one who will call you by your name the first time you ask. You're not 'Eve', you're a witch.

Put a lock on your cabinets. He's likely to hold potions and tinctures to examine them in the light, daydreaming about ill effects, and possibly drinking them.

"Y/N... Will these burn me from the inside out? ... Ah.. That would feel wonderful, wouldn't it?"

What's more concerning are the runes he's taken an interest in lately. He insists he can help. He's seen tattoos of these symbols floating around. Azusa doesn't think they're deep enough to do those women much good. They've barely scraped the surface of your potential. 

So he'll help you by carving them into you until he's sure you feel those markings within your very marrow. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be happy enough to carve him up just like he's shown you?

You hesitantly grasped at the bouquet of roses that Azusa held out for you. "Oh... Thank you." The scent from them was so strong that you took a moment to enjoy it. A weak smile found its way to your lips. "This is very sweet of you, Azusa."

He simply hummed before his hands grasped yours in a tender gesture, trapping them around the bouquet.

"...I wanted to make you happy." Your blood ran cold. You had a sinking feeling even before he began to squeeze your hands. "I thought if I helped... you'd forgive me." Instinct made you jerk your hands within the vice-like hold he gripped them in. He thought you hated him for being so nice. Just like his brothers.

"Azusa! Please!" It was enough to draw a sob from you. "Stop."

His hands fell away and you dropped the roses altogether. Tincture ingredients or not... they weren't worth suffering over. Your palms were bloody and they shook from the pain. Azusa gripped your wrist and began to suck on the red that bathed your fingers.

"Hey... Y/N... you'll love me lots if I help... won't you?"

[linenwrites]

Notes

It has been a long three months since they last spoke. Since Severus had called her a Mudblood in front of their whole year. Shame and guilt still plague him but maybe, now that they have returned for their sixth year, he can find a way to make her talk to him once more. 

In typical Slughorn fashion, their N.E.W.T. potion class starts with a competition to make the Draught of Living Death. Can Severus pull out enough tricks to kill the feud between himself and Lily?

____________________________________

"For the record," a soft female voice drifted over to him above the normal clatter of breakfast in the Great Hall, "I think it looks ridiculous."

Severus looked up in enough time to watch as a raven haired girl, possibly named Abigail, batted Lily's hand away. Lily had been twining her fingers through the long bangs that fell into Abigail's face, the strands having been dyed bright pink.

"You're just jealous, Lil," Abigail started, a bright smile on her face, "because you're parents would never let you."

He heard her sigh as she walked past where he sat at the Slytherin table, caught the wistful expression on her face.

"True."

Severus felt a piece of him shudder.

She hadn't even looked at him. 

The two girls continued on and he turned back to his breakfast only to find that his appetite had suddenly vanished. He didn't know why he had expected anything different but he felt his stomach falling with his mood. 

The silence had stretched on and on over the summer months. Severus had written her through muggle post and by owl  but, when the letters remained unanswered, he had shown up at her front door. He had prepared himself for Petunia having grown used to her scorn and thinly veiled jealousy over the years. What Severus had not expected was Mr. Evans to open the door, Mrs. Evans behind him in the hallway, both of their faces lined with anger. They had remained polite, as always, but told him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome. He could still hear the slam of the door weeks later. 

For three long months, he had endured his father's taunts and his mother's tears, clinging to the hope that things would be different once they returned to Hogwarts.

Apparently, though, nothing had changed.

"Would you look at that!" Avery exclaimed, "We got a free period now!" 

Severus turned to his friend who was pouring over their schedule for the year. Slughorn had been round a few minutes ago to deliver them to the new sixth years. 

"I'm jealous, I wish I could go back to bed." Mulciber, who was one year their junior, added. His words were punctuated by a yawn. 

Despite his mood, Severus couldn't stop his lips twisting into a slight smile. "Stop drooling over Bella and maybe you'll get a good nights sleep for once this year." 

His eyes glanced over at the fourth year sitting at the opposite end of the table, her dark hair as wild and unruly as the girl beneath it. 

"Says the pricks still pining after the same Mudblood since his first year." Mulciber muttered, eyes flicking to where Lily had just disappeared.

Anger coursed through Severus, causing his blood to pulse through his veins. He opened his mouth and he prepared to curse his friend, unsure if it would be it magical or in words alone, when he felt a warm hand fall on his shoulder.

"Are you still planning on coming by the potions room early today, my boy?" Severus turned, knowing it was Slughorn before his eyes met the head of his house.

"Yes, sir." Severus said, his ears still pink with rage.

"Brilliant, brilliant." Slughorn muttered, eyes skirting around the Great Hall. "By chance, do you know if Miss Evans will be joining you this morning?"

Severus felt Avery and Mulciber's stare, the weight heavy on him as he fought to keep his cool, indifferent tone. 

"No, nor do I care." He bit out. 

Slughorn's eyebrows furrowed.  "My dear boy, there is no need for such hostility just because she scored higher than you in your OWLs."

Sev felt his stomach sink. He hadn't known she had beaten his score. 

"You're right, Professor." He ground out, his ears practically burning as Mulciber snickered. 

There was a soft thud and then Mulciber let out a soft groan. Avery had undoubtedly kicked Mulciber in the shin. 

Severus knew Slughorn had no malice in his words, simply bringing up the longstanding bet he and Lily had been waging against one another since their first year but his words still stung. That pain was now laced with a new sort of shame though, overwhelmingly, one word still clanged around his head. 

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

To his credit, Slughorn looked mildly embarrassed for once in his life. Perhaps, Severus thought bitterly, you finally realized it is inappropriate to discuss test scores with other students?

"Yes, well," Slughorn cleared his throat, "I'll be in my office till our class after lunch. Preparing for the New Term party and what not. Which reminds me.." Slughorn pulled a piece of decorated parchment out of the front pocket of his robe, the details for the first meeting of the 'Slug Club' written in a perfect, looping script. 

Severus nodded in confirmation as he read over the details. Mulciber piped up, "Let me know if you need any help, professor." 

Slughorn's eyes glanced over Mulciber, showing him as much interest as he would one of the countless threadbare chairs in the library.

It was petty, because Sev usually considered Mulciber a friend even with the tension that had hung over them throughout breakfast, but his chest swelled with pleasure at the look of defeat and longing in Mulciber's eyes as he watched Slughorn exit the Great Hall.

Severus snickered. 

"Don't look so smug. It wasn't too long ago that he was calling you Sylvester."

Sev shrugged, keeping that well practiced mask of indifference plastered on his face as he stood. He wouldn't give Mulciber the satisfaction to know that a fresh wave of shame was crashing over him at the reminder. Instead, he waggled the piece of parchment, the silver embossment glittering in the candlelight, "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Mulciber." 

"Are you really going down to the dungeons?" Avery asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

Severus nodded, "Yeah, he wasn't joking about my potions score. I got an O but I know I can do better." 

Avery shook his head but didn't press the matter further so Severus made his way down to the potions dungeon. 

Years ago, he would have relaxed the moment he entered the space, letting the smell of various ingredients and the remnants of finished potions assault his nostrils. This place had been a safe haven for him, a refuge from the chaos and insanity that was Hogwarts. Here, he could hide amid the cauldrons but he had never been alone.

No.

This had been a place for he and Lily. No matter how different they seemed on the outside, the two of them had solidified their friendship amongst the simmering potions. 

She always looked so beautiful.

His heart skipped a beat as he thought of the wisps of her hair falling loose from her ponytail as she sliced ingredients or the way her face, shining with sweat, would light up in awe as a potion would subtly change with each stir.

Before her, Severus had never thought of potions as being magical. He had thought it was just glorified cooking until he had heard her speak. Her words were more magical than anything, anything, that came out of one of these cauldrons. He knew that nothing would ever compare to the way her green eyes would spark in excitement and wonder as she discussed how subtle changes could strengthen or destroy the potions integrity and stability completely. Sev rolled his neck. He had to get to work if he expected to make any headway before their first lesson.

Hours later, Severus stood beaming at his text book.

He had made mistakes. The skin on his left forearm was still raw from the green flames that had erupted from the black potion as he put too much Valerian root in. But still, he had made progress that he was proud of. 

Other students filed in.

Avery slid into the seat next to him and handed him a sandwich as a greeting.

Sev's eyes went wide and he began to take large bites.

"Thanks." He managed between mouthfuls.

Avery just chuckled. "I figured you'd be hungry. You barely touched your breakfast and being down here through lunch..."

Avery trailed off when Lily entered, his eyes narrowing at her and Potter. Sev was less than pleased to see that she didn't look all that annoyed by his presence. In fact, she almost looked upset when he didn't take the seat on the bench next to her. 

He watched as she turned to Abigal once more, a faint flush on her cheeks.

Mercifully, Slughorn bounded into the room. 

"Welcome, welcome, to the first course of your N.E.W.T. potions. I'm not going to waste your time. Scales, cauldrons, and books out! Turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We are making the Draught of Living Death. Best one gets fifty points to their house."

They all stared at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Time's already started!" He exclaimed. 

Everyone started moving at once, chairs scraping against the stone floor as they all rushed to get ingredients.

Severus was feeling smug, alright. 

He had gotten a tip from one of the seventh years that Slughorn always started this course out with the Draught of Living Death and a 'friendly' competition. Severus began to work on his ingredients, tipping things in and stirring as called for. Nearly forty minutes had passed and, by the random updates being shouted out by Slughorn, he and Lily were neck and neck. When he got to the velarian root, he pulled out a silver knife and pressed it along the side. He heard a soft chuckle from beside him as Avery watched the shriveled thing produce more juice than seemed reasonable. 

"You're something else, Sev. Share your notes with me once this is done, yeah?" "Always." Severus said with a wink. 

Severus scooped up the juice and carefully poured it into the cauldron. The effect was immediate. 

The potion, which had just been black as night, turned a lovely shade of lilac. "Oh-ho!" Slughorn shouted, "Looks like Mr. Snape is the furthest along now!" 

He couldn't help himself, he looked over towards Lily and met her gaze. She scowled before turning back to her own cauldron. 

Severus knew he should get back to work but his eyes were fixed on her. She had already added in the velarian root juice and had begun to stir. He watched intently as she stirred seven times counterclockwise. There was a slight pause and he watched as she straightened her shoulders. She stirred once clockwise.

Nothing exploded.

Lily began to stir faster, seven counterclockwise, one clockwise.

Severus jotted down the note in his textbook before even trying it himself. Seven was a magical number, after all, and the two of them had found that it either lead to utter chaos or improved results in potion making. There was no in between, though. 

If the Draught of Living Death was going to have a bad reaction to the clockwise stir, it would have already happened.

He repeated the motion, seven counterclockwise stirs, one clockwise. The potion turned from lilac to pale pink. 

Severus beamed. 

"Times up!" Slughorn shouted. 

He walked around from cauldron to cauldron, shaking his head with a laugh once he finished. 

With a wave of his wand, both Severus and Lily's cauldrons floated to the front of the room. The whole class remained silent as Slughorn looked between them.

"Perfect, perfect as always you two." He beamed at them both. "I did say I would decide on a winner and, this time, I have to go with Severus. The coloring in both is textbook but Mr. Snape's has the most incredible iridescent quality. Frankly, I don't think I have ever seen it done quite so well in my life. Fifty points to Slytherin!"

Avery clapped him on the back while the other Slytherin's burst into applause. He was still being congratulated as they filed out of the dungeon classroom. Severus was looking over his shoulder, not paying attention, when he ran straight into someone. 

"How?"

Lily was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. Abigail was standing on the steps behind her with Potter at her side. 

Her eyes flicked towards his copy of Advanced Potion-Making tucked beneath his arm and he shifted it into his bag. She knew of his habit to scribble notes in the corner. 

"Move along, Evans." Avery said, voice low with warning. 

Lily glanced at Avery once before turning back to Severus. She starred him for a long moment before she turned on her heal, red hair fanning out behind her. 

"Don't let her ruin this for you." Avery muttered as the pair began walking up the stairs together. "You're a great potion maker, you never needed her help. You don't owe her a damn thing." 

Severus nodded but his heart was racing. 

An idea began to formulate in his head. He began digging through his bag, looking for his schedule so he could see the next time they had a free period. 

He bit his lip. Not until Thursday but their next potions class would be Wednesday.

No matter.

He would go down tomorrow evening, perhaps even tonight.  He would wake up early and skip meals if he had to.

Hell, he would live in the damned dungeon if that's what it took. 

Hope bloomed in his chest. Lily had spoken to him. 

And he would make sure it happened again. 

[deathduty]

Stairway to Deirdre || Nora & Deirdre

TIMING: Set after A Portrait of Morgan Grey LOCATION: Deirdre & Morgan’s house PARTIES: @fearfordinner & @deathduty CONTENT: Head trauma tw SUMMARY: Nora wants to visit a friend.

Nora’s last conversation with Morgan had gone really well, but it had left Nora with a burning question. What did Morgan’s actual house look like? The answer was. Rich. Nora didn’t know why that surprised her. Other people were rich, she knew. It was easy to assume that most people in White Crest were poor. They just didn’t have the same…. affect of the ‘too rich for their own good’ people she’d grown up around. The front door had been unlocked. Just as Nora had requested, that must mean Morgan was expecting her. A cat ran by Nora, hissing at her before skittering to a different room. A new friend. Nora nodded at the receding cat before starting to slink around the large house. It looked like it could have been on TV. Not Nora’s taste, but if she was to believe the media it was the ideal set up for homes. 

In Nora’s hands objects were picked up and placed back down. Examined and discarded. Everything was returned to the exact place she’d found it a little bit to the left. She thought that would be a funny joke for Morgan to discover later. Done with the first floor Nora finally decided to check out what secrets the second story held. Hopefully she’d get a glimpse of that bone room Morgan had promised. Morgan had a very impressive spiral staircase. Nora slid her hands on the railings as she ascended the steps, completely transfixed by the light fixture that hung about it. 

Doors were an utter inconvenience to Deirdre. Why houses didn’t adopt the automatic sliding doors featured at grocery stores, she didn’t know. And while technology was often confusing to her, and though she was fond of her dated family home, she just really hated the inconvenience of a door. Maybe that was why she had forgotten to lock the front door—locks were an even greater inconvenience—or why she had been staring at her bedroom door for minutes, hoping it would magically open. She’d really have to teach the cats how to open doors for her, one of these days. But finally mustering the strength to turn a door knob, she exited into the hall, and had begun her descent to procure some fruits for snacking, when she froze. She adjusted her silk robe, to make sure nothing was exposed, and stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more. “Who the fuck are you?” But there was one easy answer to strangers on a staircase, her staircase. Deirdre reached out, and with practiced ease and great delight, she shoved the stranger down. 

A woman in silk robes emerged from an upstairs room. It wasn’t Morgan. Nora wondered who it was. Nora even considered asking ‘Who are you’, but the woman spoke first and she thought it would be polite to not speak over her. So instead she opened her mouth to answer. The only thing that came out of that open mouth was a soft “Oh.” As she suddenly found herself being shoved down the stairs. First there was bouncing, limbs and head slapping on carpeted steps until finally there was sliding. In an attempt to defend herself Nora did the only thing she could think of. She shifted. Her clothes tore around her, her body quadrupled in size and the bear emerged. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, the only thing she could really think about was the pain coursing through her body. Staggering  up to her four legs Nora looked up the stairs, asking “Why did you do that?” Of course she had a bear’s mouth with a bear’s vocal cords. It came out more of a mournful yodel, something that Babadook would be proud of. 

There was a bear. For all the shoving of people Deirdre had done, none of them had ever turned into a bear. Deirdre’s eyes rose up and she turned back to her bedroom. She closed the door, a horrible unnecessary thing, and then opened it again, emerging as she just had. Again, there was a bear at the bottom of her steps. “I’m sorry,” she blinked, “I think I must be in a dream. Or perhaps I’m the one who suffered a tumble down the stairs. But you appear to be a bear.” And she was the one talking to the bear, which wasn’t any better. But the bear noises were commendable, almost as great as her screams. In honour of them, and in an attempt to communicate, she offered her own yodels, more like Irish lilting. “What do you want from me?” She gave up after a moment, demanding answers from the bear. If this was a dream, it was a terrible one. Where was the naked Morgan? Or the bones? Or Kaden being set on fire? Or all three at once? 

Nora looked down at the bottom of the stairs where she’d fallen, up the stairs to where the lady still stood. She looked familiar, in a ‘might have seen her picture before’ way but Nora couldn’t quite place it. Probably due to the fact that her brain had just been rattled around in her head. Yodeling again, Nora got her front paws on the first step again. “You made me bear myself.” The bear tried to say, the words colliding into meaningless bear noises. With her two front paws on the first step, Nora realized that she had no clue how to walk up stairs when she was this big. The length of her paw was about the width of the stair. She, in her rattled state, instead of thinking it through decided to stand on her two bear hindlegs. She used the railing to hoist her giant upper half up. “Why did you push me down the stairs?” 

Did bears eat fae? Deirdre considered this as the bear appeared to be climbing up to get her. A supernatural deer had ravaged her home, once. And somehow, the bear was still more strange. “I know I look delectable—I am, as the kids say, a snack—but you shouldn’t let looks deceive you.” Well, if the bear ate her, then she supposed she really did deserve that. She’d known a few to snack on pixies, but really, with the way those things zipped around, even she’d thought about chomping on a couple just to shut them up (she loved them as she loved  all fae, she would remind anyone who asked). The bear continued its rumbling and Deirdre thought she might have seen a spark of intelligence in its eyes, or maybe that was just the chandelier’s reflection.  “I can give you fish,” she finally offered. They’re must have been some salmon in the freezer, beside the brains.

A snack? Nora didn’t eat people. Although, she had some questions about what people would taste like. Someone once said chicken, but she doubted the strange on that internet form had actually eaten human. Weren’t there tonnes of creatures in the surrounded forest that ate people? They liked the taste of humans. No no, Nora had decided long ago that normal meat was enough for her. Fish? The offer was on the table, and Nora with her grumbly tummy was always hungry. As she started struggling her way up the stairs, a pain still throbbing in the back of her head she sang in bear “I am short, fat, and proud of that and so with all my might I up, down, up-down to my appetite's delight. While I up, down, touch the ground I think of things to chew, Mmm, like honey, milk, and chocolate, with a hefty-happy appetite. I'm a hefty-happy Pooh.” For reasons surely unknown, Nora had always loved the Disney character Winnie the Pooh. Of course the whole thing just looked like a yodeling bear climbing up the stairs to maybe eat the human, not asking for the proffered fish. 

Weirdly, it was like the bear was singing at Deirdre. Whatever had happened for her to hallucinate this, it must have been potent; singing bears were her least favourite kind of bear. But she noted the song-song quality of the bear’s yodels now; quite beautiful, if only she weren’t so confused. Well, there was just one way to deal with strange hallucinations. Some silly people might have suggested pinching herself to confirm reality, but Deirdre much preferred her own technique. She reached out, prised the bear’s paws up, and shoved it down the stairs. All of this was done swiftly, as she was trained for excellence, not deliberation, but it felt awfully slow in her head. But the bear had felt real, and so, after throwing someone down a flight of stairs twice, she deduced that this was not a dream. 

It was the shock, wasn't it? As Nora once more found herself bouncing then sliding down the stairs, her limbs going everywhere and the carpet sliding against her, she instinctively changed back. Blood trickled down her arm, her left eye pulsed and a searing pain with shooting through her left shoulder. “Ow.” She mumbled. Having landed securely on a pile of her torn clothes, the naked Nora did absolutely nothing to change this situation. She hurt and quite frankly she wasn’t here for it. The second fall had knocked a little bit of sense in her, if climbing up the stairs resulted in pain, then stay at the bottom of the stairs. Nora opened her mouth to try and say something like, why did you push me? Or Who are you. Instead all that came out with a second, less monotoned “Ow.” 

But the only thing worse than a bear at the bottom of her steps, was a naked, injured person. Deirdre finally went down, staring at the stranger. “Are you okay?” She asked, with all the concern of a woman who hadn’t just shoved this intruder down the stairs. Twice. Although, she hadn’t exactly figured out why the stranger had been a bear for some of it. But along with the memory of fur under her fingers, the torn clothes also told her she hadn’t just imagined it. “You’re bleeding,” she stated, though moved not an inch to help. Instead, she shrugged off her silk robe and tossed it upon the stranger, as if discarding it into the trash. Now she was the naked one, which was usually how she liked things. In her shock, she just couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to do. She imagined the silk robe helped, somehow. “Are you okay?” She asked again. 

There was a world of questions Nora expected someone to ask in that situation. The question Nora hadn’t expected was the one she got. ‘Are you okay?’ Are you okay from the woman who pushed her down the stairs. Nora stared up at the lady, brown hair, brown eyes, beautiful facial structure. The light structure above them made a perfect halo around her face, framing her how she imagined an angel was framed standing above Lucifer as he fell. “You…” Nora’s mouth felt dry as she tried to speak through the pain going through her. “You.. never showed up for our wedding.” She finally recognized the woman standing over her. Deirdre. Her poor brain, that had been rattled around alot decided this was more than enough for Nora today. Darkness overwhelmed her as unconsciousness greeted her. 

“Oh,” Deirdre said. “Nora.” She wasn’t sure what she expected Nora to look like, but a bear and naked were not among the considerations. Lydia did say Nora wasn’t human, so there was that. What were those things that turned into bears? Boob-bears? That explained the nudity. “Well, this is just funny, isn’t it, Nora?” She paused. “Nora?” Deirdre nudged the slumped body with ehr foot. “Noooooraaaaaaaa?” She waited. Oh well. Deirdre stepped over the body with a whistle, off to get her fruits. She picked the salmon out of the freezer and a pillow from the couch on her way back to the staircase. She wiggled the pillow under Nora’s head, noticing the dark coloring forming around her left eye. She put the frozen fish there. Nora wasn’t dead, which according to Deirdre, meant there was no cause for concern. Not that she had much concern to begin with. She noticed the bleeding arm and shifted the silk robe to lay on top as a sort of expensive, ineffective bandage. She shrugged, good enough. And then she went about the rest of her day, Nora forgotten and salmon left to defrost on her purple eye--which was also promptly forgotten. Vaguely, she thought she might invest in some home security, but she didn’t know why the thought came to her. Oh well, must not have been important.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF MAMMON.

Admin Rosey: There is something about Mammon that draws people in - but I know that they can be a very fickle character down simply because they are so utterly unique unto themselves. I really enjoyed the application because of the way they were outlined so meticulously, providing the exact understanding of Mammon that I very much longed to see. There was a certain disdain that was interwoven into everything, from the plots to the prose to the dialogue. The apathy that seemed to be teeming on the surface of things was absolutely delicious to eat up.This application was a fun read and I simply cannot wait to see how you develop Mammon along the way! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | Decently active, at least once a week if I can get  my shit together!!! Always making the effort to stick and get replies whenever available! ( At the moment I’m pretty available but things might change in a couple of months depending on work and etc ) 

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | Rosey is a Queen and was like hey look I did something sexy and I clicked and I gasped and I agreed, she did do something sexy. And then I said wow and the rest of the team also did like magic and I was shook. And here I am now applying for the sexy. 

IN CHARACTER

Character | MAMMON 

What drew you to this character? | 

There is something so raw about a demon birthed from nothing - they are the epitome of emptiness, their existence almost synonymous to a black hole which I find extremely fascinating. They are greed, they are consumption, they devour all, eating away at others in physical tangible methods. Perhaps it is their cruelty that is ultimately a big part of what fascinates me - untangling the web of what makes them tick is yet another facet. I’d love to explore their mind and uncover the inner workings of their feral being. Their gluttonous ways and conquest to swallow those around them whole is chaos at it’s finest. The danger that glints in their eyes and the attitude that exudes from them is everything I could ever desire in a character. They’re also really hot. I mean Noma Han though. 

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

& I EAT UNTIL ALL IS CONSUMED | Mammon is a fickle creature who thrives in pandemonium. They tread a questionable line of self indulgent anarchy. Their arms are extended like the angels in mockery, writing their own fanatical laws that no one else could truly understand. Their madness thrives in their mind - their motivation always geared toward their own personal satisfaction. But what if the scale was to tip? Perhaps someone or something will catch the gleam in their darkened eyes. What if they too could live for more than the tool that was once wielded by others. Long accustomed to opulent luxury and gluttonous sin, never had they batted an eye at the politics swirling within courts. Yet for someone as hungry as they, was such mundaneness enough? What if they were to crawl past the line of humdrum satisfaction. What if they dove deeper into their instability - their appetite always growling for more. In a dog eat dog world, they had always been the one to voraciously guzzle first. Enjoying what existed was mediocrity and they were far more than that. With sharpened razor teeth, they know they can bite off more. Nothing would be too much to chew, for eating and taking was what they did best. Take and take until there was nothing left, ambition spirals to the damned heavens itself. 

HOPE? WHAT A PECULIAR CURIOSITY |  Accustomed to eons past of old tales whispered in their name, there is something tedious of Mammon’s life. While they have long been accompanied by their gourmandizing, they too seek out a spark of new excitement. Their bones creak, their jaw snaps at the thought of a new conquest - a new game. Perhaps a pursuit that is unexpected by all others - especially of demon kind. They have seen much and heard much and curiosity is like temptation itself. They too wonder of things like hope - entertaining the concept. They do not understand it as they have long been an inhabitant of the same old Hell. Yet even they tilt their head in interest. What is this so-called thing of wonder that has kept civilizations afloat? And it is this same twisted intrigue that has left their lips parted in bemusement. Will they succumb to it’s enigmatic mystery? What shall become of the creature who begins to understand? 

MONARCH OF PILFERED GOLD | A thief with a stolen crown, it is hardly an understatement to say that Mammon’s a selfish bastard. Anything that caught their eye was plucked by their greedy fingers by the right of their own claim. The excitement that coursed through their being elicits an ecstasy like no other. They will never forget the seal of death against Morningstar himself, oh how delightful it had all been. The sweet taste of bloodied victory is ever so ripe and thus this addiction to capture the same sensation thrusts them forward to chase it all over again. It was never enough for a being like Mammon who was carved from hunger itself. The pupils of their eyes dilate, looking toward shinier prizes - bigger ones that would make tidal wave changes. In their proud arrogant veneer, they mark their target in the back of their mind. Names and faces never forgotten as they seek to take one treasure after another. And perhaps the thrill of the game is only ever more exciting when the opponent viewed them as an enemy. It fuels the maniacal cackles that rip through their throat because what is theirs will be theirs. It would only take a matter of time before they conquered again and again. After all they took down the King of Hell, at this point - what else couldn’t they take? More is more. 

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS & PLOTTING  EXPLORATIONS 

GABRIEL ;  HOW SWEET IT TASTES TO INCITE YOUR WRATH | I really love the potential between Gabriel and Mammon as there’s undeniable heated tension. With him, Mammon feels the very sensation they have long been addicted to. The palpable hatred that lurks beneath Gabriel’s eyes lures Mammon closer - curious to see what would happen if they pushed further and incited an infernal fire. Undoubtedly I can see this dynamic burgeon into something both intimate and unspoken. For Mammon it is their newest game, their newest thrill ride to feel something and be seen. They will not deny themselves of the attention and want to bear witness to Gabriel’s promise of their destruction. ( I’m also here to see the angst ) 

“Destroy me if you can, desire me if you can’t” - Mammon 

ROMILDA ;  FOR THIS ONE’S DEMISE SHALL BE DELICIOUS  | Mammon and Romilda appear to be playing some game of cat and mouse which offers for some spicy ideas. For Mammon, they remain closeby like a voyeur peering into the windows of another’s life - perhaps others would perceive it as a God complex. But it is not stemmed out of arrogance or superiority, rather just another form of amusement for a creature as bored as them. They follow at her feet to watch what will happen because she is interesting and they’re nosy and want to know more. Perhaps Romilda will get sick of it? Who knows! ( I could see them being lowkey kind of obnoxious to Romilda. ) 

“Tell me a story and I’ll give you a show.” - Mammon 

REVNA ;  COME CLOSER INTO THE DARKNESS O FRAGILE ONE | To Mammon, Revna is like the perfect three course meal - so deliciously melancholic and on the verge of hopelessness. They keep her around close to keep her entrenched in her misery. It is also like the finale of a play, they await to see what will snap and send her spiraling - an event that will certainly incite their wicked glee. But Mammon believes themself to be merciful, kind even - giving her a choice to do as she pleases. They just merely amplify what she already believes. And I can’t wait to play that out - this is pretty much a parasitic relationship except Revna gets nothing out of it really. ( They’re the world's shittiest therapist tbh ) 

“The closer to the edge you are, the grander and greater the fall.” - Mammon 

GADRIEL ;  KNEEL BEFORE MY FEET AND BEG FOR MERCY | Mammon has never forgotten the events that had unfolded, a sickly sensation that sticks to the guts of their stomach. It is both a disgrace and a dishonor to have ever allowed such a thing to have occurred. They are not one to bury the hatchet - rather they hold onto it with a grip. I would like to see Mammon and Gadriel perhaps duel once again, mayhaps to the death? If anything this too can make for some good drama. Maybe Mammon will make a friend - or just die, anythings possible! ( They’re in denial that they’re kinda pressed and acting like it’s no big deal but you know deep down it's a big deal ) 

“An outcome must be decided; to the victor go the spoils.” - Mammon

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes! But I would also think it’s funny if people keep trying to kill them and they just come back like, bitch you thought. Just imagine the meme potential. 

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

AND IT BEGINS ( THE ORIGINS OF IDENTITY ) 

Largely much of Mammon’s natural instincts seems to center around the concept of “hollowness” or “emptiness” and in turn, it would be likely that they would like to share this void sensation of others, a cruel goal but for them - it is merely how they live. Perhaps another reason to pull others into their sphere of vacancy is the twisted amusement of watching others suffer. They are wicked and have never denied it so, and to share in such pain only feeds into their own warped sense of pleasure and indulgence. However even so, their identity remains a translucent nonlinear jumble of messes, one that they do not wholly understand and seek to untangle. Simply put, they are beyond unusual, strange even and given their long years of existence, have become bored of routine.

THE CHANGE ( A NEW GAME ) 

 And upon a frivolous whim, maybe they shall change it - or not, for they are as volatile as a child. But should change come, perhaps this will force them to act differently from the habits they have long been accustomed to. However, perhaps there is potential within their sinful avaricious vice to fall even deeper into the pitfall of hell. They have always been greedy in their collection of treasures. And surely objects have immense value but what if Mammon were to take it a step further? Breaking past the limits of inanimate items, their eyes may be set on an ever steeper goal. Their nurtured sadism bears fruit to cruel intentions; maybe it's time to take from the essence of humanity itself. It is people they wish to take from now; their hearts, their minds and even their souls. 

DANCING TO THE FINALE ( BOPPING TO NIGHTMARES ) 

They want to carve out the creature that breathes their sweet drink of life. Through veiled grins and snide chuckles, they seek to pull the strings of those they deem of inconsequential value. Upon invisible puppet strings, Mammon will play until they tire once more. For it is all just a game to someone who’s never truly ever had a reason to care. ( Born in the void, they become just as senseless the place they call home - it is a cold cavity that is all they have known. ) They live in their own world of selfishness and conceit, the world just a playground for devils to play. So they shall dance in the dark, picking one human target to another, rejoicing in the cries of anguish. And when the song shall end and the old rickety monster becomes exhausted, they will crack their wrists. It is then they will break the fools until there is nothing left. Again and again the routine shall be repeated. Because Mammon hardly understood life in itself; only ever the depths of shadows and death. 

Every word of hope and moral goodness consumed until by the black tar tongued of hell’s devil; and that is when the being is slaughtered, becoming just a husk of what they once were.  

ABRIDGED : Ok so like to sum up, Mammon’s just a big asshole and just wants to screw up other people because they’re mainly 1. Bored and 2. Why the hell not it’ll be funny. 3. Collecting trash is their hobby. They’re so self absorbed in themselves that I feel like in order for Mammon to be pushed toward some outside motivation would require them to either 1. Get friends or 2. To give a fuck about someone else ( to care - WOW ) But as of the moment any sort of motivation or goal just stems from their own wants or needs which rules above all else. They don’t want much in life at the moment besides hoarding, stealing, taking new shit and playing fake God if they can. Or just be that third person ominous narrator that’s super unhelpful but is there to give unnecessary input. Demons gotta do something to pass the time, right? 

Character Traits | 

Positive Traits 

Observant ; They have long had sharp pointed eyes - ones that watched the slightest ticks upon a visage, the subtlest movements of one’s gestures, the rhythm of footsteps of others. Mammon is a particular being who has long been watchful with a gaze that is both frightening as it is dangerous. But it is through their observations that fan the flames of mania. They play their games regardless of their opponent, their whims self serving first. 

Strategic ; A good player must learn the ins and outs of any game and it is one of the first things that Mammon has long gravitated towards. They pick their wars keenly, sometimes even merely satisfied with the knowledge that things shall work as they had planned. Execution is what they have done best and it takes more than sheer luck and power to finesses such precision. 

Clever ; Far from a moron, Mammon has always prided themselves in their intellect. However, exercising such wit often was a choice rather than a given. For the gluttonous demon celebrated their flaws far more than any of their redemptions. Only in dire circumstances would they ever apply themselves with the extra effort of thinking. Perhaps when a worthy enough challenge came along its merry way, they would finally exert their mind once more. 

Negative Traits 

Rapacity ; Mammon has always had a large appetite for intemperance. Both physical and metaphorical, they celebrate in the excess. The more they devour, the more satisfied they become. To them, boundaries are just suggestions. Their overwhelming need to take everything from everyone fuels them to function. Nothing could ever be enough. More was always better, and they live by these words on a daily basis. 

Sadistic ; They enjoy the thrill of crawling under the skin of both friends and foes. It is amusing to watch souls tortured and in pain, the sound of shrieks and cries are like trumpets to their ears. They rejoice in the reactions, cackle in the face of desperate pleas - they have long been accustomed to cruelty. Perhaps it is the infliction of pain that they themselves can understand human emotions; something so strange and foreign. For they themselves have long lived null and empty. 

Manipulative ; Silver tongued and clawed finger tips, Mammon is shrewd in their approach and sly in their tactics. They enjoy digging beneath the surface of what is seen and plucking out the weakest part of a flawed creation. Behind a face that may mask friendliness lies a sinister creature full of mischief and mayhem. They speak with lies, wearing deceit as their second nature. The craze they exude glints beneath the murky tar colored eyes. 

In-Character Para Sample  | 

EXCERPT 01: LUCIFERS FINALE. 

WHEN SINNERS FALL, DEMONS SHALL RISE

T R I G G E R - W A R N I N G : Implications of Violence, Death / Murder  

Morningstar, the king of Hell, how arrogantly he sits upon the throne of bones and emptied carcasses. His face is marred with arrogance; of kingly conceit that is forged from his own inflamed hubris. How pompous Lucifer appears - but perhaps it is the lens that Mammon perceives that weaves the tale which whispers of their questionable truth. 

But rewind -- it begins from the beginning. The one object that sat like an artificial halo atop Lucifer’s head; oh glory to the shiniest trophy of them all. It was all they ever wanted, clenched fists with fingers dug deep into their palms. Such a beautiful crown wasted on the being they thought most undeserving. 

Mammon had arrived late, birthed in the pits only then. They were nothing but a speck in the universe. Thus they knew, to be worthy of such a precious coronet, they needed to become something. Someone. Their worth must be equal to the item they wished to pursue - or so they once believed. 

And so the fateful day came and Mammon strolled within the gates. Head held high, arms swung side to side as their eyes followed the audience. From one head to another - oh the looks of dissatisfaction restrained at the edges of the crowd’s ugly visages. Mammon sensed it, felt the dissent looming through the room - like fog itself, murmurs could be heard throughout. But all of them were cowards, their heads still bowed lowly before the demon king himself. 

They greet the false King, a cockiness in their stride as they stand with informality, a grin crawling up their knife like features. There is a nonchalance in their posture, an indifference that seemed to agitate his royal hellness. 

“I have returned,” the voice thickened and dark. 

Mammon sees the rage, understands the ticking bomb that lies behind the devil’s veneer. But they did what they did best - they poked and prodded. 

“The world is a pleasurable place beyond the frigid walls of this palace. It seems that you have been forgotten, your name abandoned, forsaken,” Mammon sighs - their pupils never moving an inch away from the Morningstar’s head. 

“I suppose your ‘greatness’ is nothing compared to the man residing upstairs,” they mocked. 

Lucifer is silent but his cool rage could be felt. The stillness that fell could stop time itself. It was then he stood, fingers gripped at the arms of his wretched throne. His voice is a hiss, fueled with laughable jealousy. Words that only Satan himself could ever conjure slithered between the flaps of whatever made his mouth. 

But Mammon remained themself. Unflinching as they awaited - beckoned the fury to light brighter and brighter. They took a step, accepting a dare with the fates. And it was then that they had crossed the line, the servants of Morningstar thrusting them upon their knees. 

They had trekked into uncharted territory - detonating the wrath of the top Devil. A small smile appeared on their face. It was all a joke. But the glee that curdled through their rickety bones brought forth the satisfaction they had gambled for. How sweet was the taste of Lucifer’s anger and jealousy - they could eat up more -for it was aromatically delicious. 

The pits of Tartarus were nothing for a creature like them. They would claw their way out as they had done once before. How amusing it all was, they had stepped on the toes of a ‘supposed king’ who’s envy entrapped him. It was confirmed in that moment that Mammon who had wandered the planes with a trail ablazing, they had become something more. They left once but they’d swore they’d come back for more.

A KING NO MORE 

And so they returned. Indifference worn upon the husk humans called a face. Their decision never came from a place of justice or hatred. No, it was the one fixation that they had long desired. And the only way for them to ever get such a prized possession was to chop it from the head of the wearer. 

It was a merry day for a remorseless killer. 

They spun to the tune that played in their head - the haunting whistle that made their feet tap to a jig. It was the mighty king of hell’s turn to have a taste of damnation. Perhaps somewhere the Angels would have sung for Mammon's praise. But whether the pasty holier than thou freaks did or didn’t, they didn’t give a fuck. 

Mammon wanted what they wanted. Blade in the grasp tightly, exposing the whites of their knuckles. Today was the day to claim their very first love. ( Love? Obsesion? No, it was just another whim, another aimless desire. ) 

Swiftly they cut, quickly they shredded. It wasn’t long before the Morningstar was beheaded. 

In the bloody mess of whatever made the black hearted creature, Mamon ripped the crown from his head. Their fingertips stained with the colors of death, they place the object upon their own head. In the reflection of the glassy floor - they bear a smile, teeth exposed to show their mephistophelian smile. 

And yet the feeling is fleeting - as it always was. They had come and conquered but it was never really enough. The agenda was completed and their excitement gone. They looked at themselves once more, the grin fading. Their fingers gripped the item and threw it on the dirtied ground. 

A sigh of exasperation exited their lips, their back turned as they walked away. Onlookers bowed before them but they did not care. They had their fun and as routine, it was time for Mammon to find a new toy to play with. But before they vanished from sight as they were long accustomed to, they glanced back once more. An itch to feel the euphoric sensations that rattled their ribcage and howled beneath their flesh. 

Alas. 

It was just another fucking crown.

____________________________________________________________________________________

EXCERPT 02: THE UNKNOWN. 

IN MY PRESENCE, ANGELS SCREAM

It was him that they found a fascination like no other, an unsettling sensation that felt akin to perhaps what the humans may call alive. Mammon lurks within the shadows - not to close, just enough to see them. Enough to feel something within that jostled, reminiscent of a beastly heart. 

“I know you’re there.” He blinds like the sun. 

Mammon says nothing. 

It is then that Gabriel makes his approach. Oh glory to a walking God. Each step ringing like the bells of divine retribution. But Mammon does not waver, nor do they run. They welcome it, their lips curling at the corners. 

“I am here oh sweet fair haired angel,” their words spiteful. “Vanquish me if you truly dare.” It is then that they too walk into the light. They should have burned. But darkness consumes all, absorbs all and takes all. 

Gabriel does not speak. But his gaze does not fall. 

LOVE AND HATRED ARE SAME SIDES OF PASSION

It is Mammon's turn to take the stage and so they do. They walk closer, enough to taunt the other. They delighted in the seething temper that boiled beneath. His hatred was like no other; he bears witness to Mammon’s full depravity. It is Gabriel who seems to understand the monstrosity of what they are. And it is in this fragile perverted supposed understanding that pulls Mammon closer. 

“You have cultivated your sainthood, your goodness,” Mammon remarks. “But isn’t that your purpose? The will of accursed God all too shitty. But you see Gabriel - I am like you too. It is just merely a difference in … design,” words hissed with pitch black mirth. 

Their finger is pointed at them. 

“For you, they strove for righteousness.” 

“They gave you light. Nurtured you with warmth.”

“Your existence was a predestined fortune.” 

There is ridicule dripping from their words. No bitterness, no care - just vacant rambles and little thought - a pretend of emotion conducted for theatrics. They raise their arms to the sky, their middle fingers pointed. 

“But I was made as an omen, an example of all things terrible.”

Their arms dropped as their focus returned to one of God’s original favorites.

“They made me hungry.”

“They made me wretched.”

“For all the love and praise you fucking angels sing, how imperious for your kind to judge.” 

Mammon closes the distance, their mouth upturned like a risen half moon. 

“Doesn’t it pain you to know that our fallen creator had us all cut from the same cloth? Despise me should you wish but do not deny that even you, pure and good, harbor something as foul as hatred.” They laugh - cacophonic delirious cackles of a madman facing death. 

Mammon stops - in the quietness their head tilts, a sneer pulling at their lip. 

“Kill me if you choose but it’ll make you no better than the Devil.”  

____________________________________________________________________________________

Extras | 

HEAD CANNONS 

WINGS : I’ve always imagined that Mammon would have wiry or metal looking wings? Like it would be sharp and mimic spare parts or just trash, almost as if they had made their wings by hand. I’m specifically picturing the creepy hand from the “Other Mother” in Coraline but imagine the material as wings ( reference here ) 

FOODIE : I think it would be funny that they’re somewhat of a fancy connoisseur of food. Well food and perhaps anything else that they can put in their mouth. I feel like their standards of what can be eaten really is at a low bar. They would be down to just chew on some dirt and be like “wow the flavor in this silt soil can not be compared to clay.” Seems like the type of thing Mammon would be into. Probably would overshare and even attempt to encourage others to try whatever the hell they’ve decided to swallow that day. 

TRENDSETTER : Given that Mammon likes to take a lot of shit and probably has the attention span of a child, I don’t think they’d be wearing the same outfit on repeat ever. I also feel like they’d be the type to put on a plastic bag and then call it high fashion and maybe people would believe them? Or not - I mean the choice is simple, nod or choose death I suppose. I also see them being a big fan of sunglasses just to be dramatic when they toss it off to really emphasize how crazy and fucking wild they truly are. Also I could see them just being dramatic for no good reason with a little bit of a flair for theatrics. 

WEAPON: Perhaps Mammon’s weapon of choice would be akin to something that looks like a Scythe? Or maybe they’re the type that would keep a handful of sharp blades on them, I could definitely imagine them playing with a butterfly knife and doing tricks with it since they’ve had hours upon hours to learn and fuck around. I could also see them picking up other people’s weapons and going like “well that's nice, going to add it to my collection. This one would be great for some good old stabbing.” 

MUSIC : Despite being kind of a silent type, Mammon secretly is the type to be into a lot of music??? Especially when they’re doing some dirty business or like kicking someone for being a buckethead, I could imagine them jamming to some sweet tunes while doing the ass kicking. Maybe they’ll whistle too. Here’s a scene from American Psycho whis is the inspiration I got behind this ( reference here // trigger warning: murder + violence + blood ) 

OTHERS

PINTEREST |  MOCKBLOG 

ENDNOTE: Thank you for reading through my application! Just wanted to say that you guys did such a great job with the roleplay. Whether I’m accepted or not, I had a lot of fun writing this & exploring the character so thank you! ♥

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 5/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 4.5k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3

A/N: Another Monday, another update! Only two more after this—ahh! Thanks as always to everyone who’s been reading and commenting; to the awesome peeps over at @captainswanbigbang​; and to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​. Chapter title is from “Rules” by Jayme Dee.

part 5: Round and round, two by two, we run around the rules

Fucking hell; was this actually happening? Or was this a sleep-deprived hallucination? (He’d only gotten a brief nap in last night—he forgot what Cruella’s...appetite was like.)

But the red X over Ursula’s screen was no dream: she was dead. And at the hand of her supposed ally. 

Killian’s vision took on the color of the signal of her death, and his eyes darted to the accomplice, who looked appropriately sheepish on the other side of the room. 

Ariel tried to stop him, but he easily shook off her hand from his bicep. He hadn’t felt this kind of betrayal in years.

“What the bloody hell was that?” he spat in Emma’s face, not afraid to crowd her personal space. “What in all the realms were you thinking?”

“I’m doing whatever it takes to keep my tribute alive,” she hissed back. “You should know; it’s what you told me to do!”

“You of all people should know better than to pull something like this!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I don’t remember your games, Nolan.”

“It had to happen at some point!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Graham interrupted, trying to slip between them and put some distance there, but Killian was too riled up and kept pressing forward. “Enough; both of you.”

Killian tried to take a breath to calm himself, but it didn’t work and instead came out as an exaggerated huff. There was a fire behind Emma’s eyes and it colored her cheeks pink as she stood there heaving, too.

“Why don’t you both take a walk outside to cool down?” Ariel suggested; Killian hadn’t even noticed her come up behind him. “We need to be heading out anyways.” Mentors without tributes in the game weren’t allowed to stay in the game center—which was the other reason he was angry. Not that anyone needed to know that.

Without a word, Killian turned on his heel and left, throwing open the doors to the center so they’d hopefully slam shut behind him; it would have been cathartic. But no—one of them was caught from closing by Emma as she stormed out behind him, leaving the other to shut with a dull, unsatisfying thud.

“Seriously? I thought this was a competition; you can’t be that upset that I took whatever edge I could get,” she said, continuing the argument from behind him. He honestly had planned on going out for a walk, but if she wanted to argue, then fine—he’d argue.

He turned back around and marched back toward her. “No, but I can take issue with the fact that that edge was the sharp end of an axe, and that it ended up in my tribute’s back!”

“Oh, please; you would have done the same,” she threw back.

“Actually, no,” he said coolly; her visible recoil was somewhat satisfying. If the kids had turned on each other, that’d have been one thing, but he hadn’t planned on sabotaging the alliance.   

Satisfied that he’d won the debate, or at least rendered her speechless, he started to head down the corridor again.

“Well, at least your precious Sherwood tributes are still in.”

He stopped in his tracks; God, she just knew all the buttons to press, didn’t she? “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he tossed over his shoulder, not daring to look at her.

“What, is one of them your lovechild or something?” she sneered. 

A chill went down his spine; did she know? He faced her again, glaring. 

“Eloise’s daughter, is that it?” She was smirking, clearly thinking she was joking.

“Stop. Talking,” he warned, stomping back into her space. “It’s none of your damn business.”

“Holy shit; really?” she whispered. Bollocks; he hadn’t meant to confirm it. But there it was. “Is that what you were talking about on the elevator?”

“Aye,” he said on a breath, though the damage was probably done; Olympus had eyes and ears everywhere. “So as a parent, I’d hope you’d get it.”

“I do,” she replied, suddenly solemn. 

“Imagine it was your child in there, and you could do almost nothing to save them. How would you handle that?”

“I...I have no…”

“Exactly.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered overhead, and he could see the emotional distress on her face and the spark of magic at her fingertips.

“Calm down and get that under control,” he murmured, annoyed. “Lest neither of us make it through the night.” He was incredibly curious at how she’d managed to keep her magic a secret; he knew having that part of her stifled played into why Eloise was the way she was, and if Alice managed to get out of this, the same fate would likely lay ahead of her—she knew better than to put it on display, but the Games had a way of bringing it out in even the most composed person, which Alice wasn’t. 

But if Emma let that run loose—and he was caught aiding her—it wouldn’t end well; civilians found with magic were rarely allowed to live, and this was unprecedented.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; it took a moment, but the light stopped flickering and the static in the air dissipated; he could actually see the hair on his exposed forearm relax.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I need to watch the rest of the games from my quarters. Where I can’t do anything.” For what he hoped was the last time, he turned and left.

“Are you going to the Gala?” she called out as he walked away.

He didn’t stop, but answered back, “Don’t have much choice, do we?” And then turned the corner to the elevator lobby, out of her sight.

He nearly broke the elevator panel with his hook with how hard he hit it to call a lift, but his blood was still simmering (and, honestly, Olympus could afford to replace it, so he didn’t much care).

Thankfully, he was the only one on board, and was finally able to let out a long sigh once the doors closed, scrubbing his hand along his face as he leaned back against the wall. In all his years doing this, he’d never been so let down by a fellow mentor. It was probably the shock of the moment and the adrenaline of the games, but Killian was also pretty damn good at holding a grudge, and he wasn’t sure he’d let this go anytime soon.

To make matters worse, he had trusted her. Hell, he’d had some other sorts of thoughts about her, too. He’d thought she was a kindred spirit, and she still was, in some ways; but now, he just had to hope that the fact he knew her secret was enough to counteract her knowing his.

The elevator dinged once they reached his floor, and he shuffled out. At least he didn’t have any more appointments, and likely wouldn’t until after the Gala, whenever that would be. 

He made a beeline for the mini bar in their quarters and poured himself a hefty amount of rum. Then he collapsed on the sofa, grabbed the remote, and flicked on the monitor, bringing up a live feed of the arena. He may have lost access to the gaming center, but he at least could still watch the same video streams.

He clicked through a couple of channels until he found the one he needed: the image of Alice and Robyn hiding in that cave.

And he’d keep his eyes locked on this channel until the very end.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Robyn came to consciousness coughing, gasping for air and spitting out water. “Wha,” she tried to say, but it only led to another round of coughing. 

There was a supportive hand on her back and another on her arm, but it wasn’t until she could finally breathe and blinked a few times that she remembered what all had happened: finding Alice, running through the storm, fucking up her leg, and oh yeah—Alice apparently having magic.

“I passed out, didn’t I?” she deduced; that was an awful lot to process in a short span of time. Or she’d lost too much blood. Either were likely.

“Yeah, you did; I thought getting you to drink might wake you up, but I didn't realize it’d be so violent. Sorry,” Alice explained, the worried, sheepish expression on her face plainly visible in the light coming from her palm.

“It’s fine,” Robyn tried to say with a shrug, but didn’t quite have the energy for that, so it came out more like a wince. God, she felt embarrassed; who cared that they were in the middle of a fight to the death—she made herself look like an absolute idiot in front of her crush.

Somewhere, her mother would probably be scolding her on priorities, but they were all pretty skewed right now, so...whatever.

“God, you look pale,” Alice continued on, cupping Robyn’s cheek in her other hand. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, sore, hungry; about the same as I’ve felt for the last few days.” She tried to prop herself up against the wall better, but the movement aggravated her leg, making her wince. “But that kind of kills.”

Alice (adorably) chewed on her bottom lip for a minute, clearly debating something—something that had to do with the gash on Robyn’s leg that was sluggishly bleeding. “Do you trust me?” she finally asked.

“Of course,” Robyn said without thinking.

“Okay.” Alice scooted herself from Robyn’s side to near her calf, then used the light in her palm to inspect the injury again. It was kind of mesmerizing, the light; it wasn’t steady and solid, like the kind from a bulb—it pulsed and danced like light reflecting off water. It was just so...Alice. 

And then it got brighter and warmer; Robyn could feel the heat of it on her injured leg, and probably should have looked away, but couldn’t—especially once she could tell what Alice was doing. 

“Wait!” she shouted, reaching for Alice's forearm to stop her. “You do that and you’ll be completely exposed.” It was rare anyone found to have magic got out of the Games alive; it generally placed a target on them; and right now, it’d be putting one on Robyn, too. 

“I think I already am,” she said dryly, glancing at her hand. “May as well put it to good use.”

That, Robyn couldn’t argue, unfortunately, so she just nodded back. Alice did the same, then focused her attention on the leg, both palms hovering over the gash.

It was impossible to look away as Alice worked. First, both hands glowed even brighter than before, and Robyn could feel the surge of warmth against her skin. Then, her leg began to sting—but, she realized, that was the first sensation she’d felt since they got here.

A weird pop happened somewhere inside her ankle as whatever had been dislocated went back into place, and then muscle and skin began to knit themselves back together; that was the only way she could describe the way it felt—like she was getting stitches, but without the needles or thread.

It had barely taken any time, but she’d been so lost in a trance as Alice worked her magic that it was more than a tiny jolt when the light in her palms went out. “There, that should do it,” Alice announced, looking over her handiwork. “There’s a bit of a scar, but hopefully shouldn’t be too noticeable.”

Robyn wiggled her toes inside her boots, then rotated her ankle to test it out. “Feels pretty good.”

“Good,” Alice said, beaming back.

“But there’s one thing still missing.”

Alice’s eyes went fearfully wide. “Oh no; what?”

Apparently, Robyn’s flirtatious tone hadn’t hit its mark. “Kiss it better?” If Alice’s magic was going to get them killed, she was at least gonna get her kicks in while she could.

A shy grin took over Alice’s face that was so adorable, it made Robyn’s heart stutter. She held Robyn’s gaze as she knelt over and pressed a careful kiss to the new scar on her calf; Robyn couldn’t hold back her own grin.

“Did that help?”Alice asked as she pulled away, still smirking.

“Mostly,” Robyn replied, but now she was feeling bold—and so, it seemed, was Alice. She pulled her legs close so she could move; her hurt leg was still a little tender, but infinitely better. “There’s one more way you can help,” she said, shifting herself to where Alice sat, “if you’re up for it.”

“I probably am.”

She didn’t waste a moment, pressing forward to kiss the smile off Alice’s lips—and Alice met her in the middle. There was none of the panic of their first kiss, when they didn’t know if they’d get another one; even now, there was still a chance they wouldn’t, but at least they had a moment to breathe and Robyn fully intended to take advantage of it. The cave wasn’t the softest place, but Alice’s lips certainly made up for it.

After one of the more memorable makeout sessions in Robyn’s life, they were catching their breath while they leaned against the back wall again, curled up under their blankets and huddled close as the air temperature dropped. 

“God, this reminds me of recess when we were kids,” Alice said, giggling a bit.

“How many girls did you makeout with when we were kids?” Robyn teased.

“Oh, not any,” she brushed off. “Not ‘til I was a bit older,” she added with a wink. “No; it reminds me of the days it rained and they wouldn’t let us stay in.”

“Ugh, that was the worst,” she replied. “It’s amazing we all made it out of grade 5 without dying of hypothermia.” 

“You don’t think we will tonight, will we?”

“I promise to keep you warm.”

Alice gave her a stunning grin that she’d definitely inherited from her dad; it was so obvious, now that she knew. Part of her desperately wanted to ask about how that was a thing, but they’d probably made enough dramatic revelations for Olympus and its citizens to eat up for one day.

“So...who was your first kiss?” Robyn asked instead. 

“Ugh, no; that’s embarrassing,” Alice protested, her nose scrunching up adorably in disgust.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It was Phillip Rose.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and it was terrible.”

“Oh, I know—he was mine, too!”

“What? You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was.”

“Same!”

The ensuing fit of giggles stole what little air Robyn had managed to reclaim from earlier; it didn’t help that she was still a bit light headed from blood loss, but it was getting better.

“God,” Alice finally gasped. “He’s never getting snogged again, is he?”

“Probably not.”

“Sorry, Phillip.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed, laughing. 

The storm continued outside but neither of them really noticed as they gossiped about things back home and stole kisses. If it weren’t for the fact they were hanging out in a cave and had blood on their hands, literally and metaphorically, it would have been easy to imagine it as just another sleepover back home. 

It really sucked that this was the way they were getting close, but Robyn knew she wouldn’t have done anything about her crush in any normal situation. Almost as if she could read her thoughts, Alice grew serious and asked, “So...you really weren’t lying to Sidney? About...me?”

“Of course not. I think you’ll find that I’m a terrible liar.”

“But...we’ve hardly ever talked until now. I was shocked you even knew my name.”

“Everyone knows your name.”

“Maybe, but not because of me—just because of my mum.”

“Yeah, probably; but I’m sure you’re making a name for yourself now.”

“I guess.”

“But yeah, I’ve always seen you; ever since sex ed in grade 6. But I had a reputation to maintain and whatnot; keeping up with the popularity contests and all that.”

“So you just do what you think will make you cool?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Well, that’s silly.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “I think I’ve always known that, but it’s only gotten more apparent now.”

“If we get home, what do you think you’ll do?”

Robyn was taken a bit aback; she really hadn’t been looking that far ahead. “Uh, I’m not sure yet. But I don’t think I could ever go back to my old life.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could either.”

Robyn tilted her head in confusion. “But you’ve always been...you. That’s why I’ve always liked you from afar—you just seemed happy to do your own thing.”

“I have, yeah, but part of me was always scared of not being able to connect with anyone, so I just...didn’t try. Living with my mum in the Village didn’t really help, since there weren’t any kids there or anything, and once I started school, there was always that level of resentment because I was the Victor’s kid. Nicholas and Ava were the only ones I’d ever gotten close with.”

“Yeah, but look at how close you are, and look at my so-called friends—none of them would have even considered stepping up like you did.”

Alice was blushing now and it was fucking adorable.

“The world needs more people like you,” Robyn told her, and now it was her turn to cup the other girl’s face. And then she went ahead and kissed her, for good measure. “Okay, my turn: when did you first get a crush on me?”

The blush returned twofold. “Oh god; it’s been ages.”

“Come on; tell me.”

She sighed, but laughed a bit. “Do you remember that dance we had in grade 7?”

“Yeah; that was the first one we were allowed to go to.”

“Mhmm. I was definitely wallflowering, but then you were in front of me and just...grabbed my hand and pulled me in. Even if it didn’t last, it was nice to be included. And then, well, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. The more I saw, the more I liked.”

“Even if I was just trying to be one of the cool kids?”

“You said it yourself—you’re an awful liar. You may have had them fooled, but I could see all your good parts. You’re much sweeter than you give yourself credit for.”

Now it was Robyn’s turn to blush. “Can I make a confession?”

“Duh.”

“I grabbed you at that dance on purpose.”

Alice's grin returned fiercely and stunningly, and then her lips were back on Robyn’s, and there they stayed for a good long while. 

It rained through the afternoon, all night, and well into the next day. At some point, Alice lit a fire with her magic, keeping them warm and toasty. They stripped off their wet outerthings so they could dry, as well as emptied their bags to make sure nothing was damaged (and so they could cuddle close under Alice’s blanket).

She was fluffing it out when a small, white thing floated out and landed on the stone floor next to Robyn. “What’s this?” she asked, picking it up.

Alice sat back down and wrapped the blanket around both of their shoulders, leaving her arm spread across Robyn’s to hold them close together. “A feather. I found it right before I found you—or, well, was trapped by you, or whatever.”

Robyn winced. “Still sorry.”

Alice shrugged against her. “It’s fine. It’s...memorable.”

Robyn just scoffed; a meetcute in the middle of a melee. Only Alice could see it that way.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I figured it had to be a bit of luck or something. It was too pretty to pass by.”

“It is,” Robyn agreed. “My mom will find them randomly from time to time, too—always on the hard days.”

“Well, that definitely defines the last few.”

“And she always manages to get through them. I think you’re onto something there.”

“Let’s hope,” Alice sighed, then pressed a kiss to Robyn’s bare shoulder.

Despite the setting, it was an unexpected day of bliss—talking, kissing, and cuddling—that made it hard for Robyn to envision a future, if she was lucky enough to have one, that didn’t have Alice in it. 

When it finally dried up, it really did—like all the moisture had been sucked out of the arena, leaving the soil dusty and cracked and the leaves on the trees withered. 

“They’re probably trying to get a final showdown,” Robyn figured; they always did that when there were only a few tributes left. No one had died during the storms, but they had heard a couple cannons go off earlier. 

“Do you think we still stand a chance?” Alice wondered, adorably worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. 

Robyn brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear—the rest had been braided back, which Robyn had insisted on doing when she found out Alice had never had a friend do that at a sleepover (having never even been to one)—and placed a quick peck on her lips. “There’s only one other tribute out there. It’s two against one. Whoever they are, they hardly stand a chance.”

“You sure?”

“Between your magic and my arrows, absolutely.” She held her hand out. “Ready to end this thing?”

Alice stared at it for a moment, but then took it, interlacing her fingers with Robyn’s. Confidently, she looked up and nodded. “Ready.”

They shared one last, long kiss, and then headed off for whatever lay ahead—together. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

President Adam Gold watched the final scenes of the 99th Hunger Games play out on his personal viewing screen in his quarters. Two tributes were left: the star-crossed lovers from Sherwood, Alice and Robyn. The fact that any tributes from the poorest district had made it to the end was incredible, but apparently, the strength of this pair’s love had carried them this far—and the public was eating it up. 

It made him sick.

Which is why, in the eleventh hour, he forced the gamemaker to renege on his earlier promise to the tributes that a pair from the same district could win. To his credit, Jefferson fought it. “You can’t seriously expect me to tell these-these children that they have to murder the person they love?” The gamemaker rethought his stance, however, when he was reminded of what happened to his less-than-successful predecessors.

But the young lovers weren’t having it. In true tragic fashion, they were ready to commit suicide to avoid being without each other.

He had watched as they clung to each other after making quick work of the only remaining tribute, the girl from Misthaven; her body lay nearby, the arrow in her heart still sticking out. The girl hadn’t stood a chance against the two of them—not with the blonde freezing her in place with her magic, leaving her defenseless against the red-head’s weapon. (Honestly, he was impressed; that was exactly what he would have done.)

Now, they were looking around at the sky, expecting the announcement of their victory to come at any moment. 

The absolute horror and fear that went across their faces when the one-victor-only announcement was made gave Gold a rush of thrill. 

They stared at each other, wide-eyed and anguished, until the one with magic—Alice, right?—shook her head. “I won’t—I won’t do it. You’ll have to kill me, because I can’t.”

“And you think I can?” Dramatically, she threw down her bow and reached for Alice’s hands. “Alice, I...I love you. And I’m not going home without you.”

Alice sniffed, and a tear began to travel down her cheek; goodness, this was maudlin. “I love you, too,” she warbled. “But we’ve got no choice, do we? Only one can win. And either way, we both lose.”

They hugged each other tight, Alice starting to sob into Robyn’s shoulder. “Wait,” Robyn exclaimed, in a scheming tone Gold didn’t like at all. “Maybe that’s it—maybe neither of us win.”

“What? Like, kill each other?”

“Or ourselves.” Robyn stepped aside and pulled her dagger from where she’d kept it on her belt. 

“They wouldn’t have a victor, then, would they?” Alice said, sniffling, but it wasn’t so much a question as an equally conspiratorial statement. Gold was getting nervous, especially when Alice too produced a knife. 

“Nope.” Robyn reached for Alice’s hand again. “At the same time?”

Alice nodded resolutely. “Together.”

They both carefully held their daggers over their own hearts, and were ready to stab themselves with the weapons. It was sickeningly sweet; Gold hated sweet. The grip on the apple he was holding grew stronger.

“I love you, Robyn.”

“I love you, Alice.”

“See you on the other side.”

Gold saw that he wasn’t going to have his way. “Allow it,” he sighed to no one in particular, knowing the gamemaker would hear him. If he had to have both of them, then he’d take that over neither. 

Before the teenagers could go any farther, Sidney’s near-frantic voice rang out in the arena: “Stop, stop! I officially declare the tributes from Sherwood as the winners of the 99th Hunger Games!”

The couple looked at each other in disbelief before dropping their weapons and embracing each other. They shared a passionate kiss before the hovercraft arrived to bring them back to Olympus, but Gold had stopped watching.

His mind was already on the next thing: how this would affect Pomem. Rumors were already reaching his ears of instability brewing in the realms—minor acts of rebellion against Olympus; an act like this might be fuel on the embers, depending on how the citizens took it. 

But more so was the revelation of Alice as one of the witches he’d been waiting for. The prophecy still stood: that the four sorceresses would return, and bring magic back with them. It was funny: magic had brought Pomem together; but without it, the realm was at risk of ceasing to exist. 

That white feather Alice found marked her as one of the four; another was for certain, and another was a possibility. He didn’t have any clues on the last but had been assured she was out there by his predecessors. 

It was annoying having the voices of all the other Dark Ones past in his head, but, as the saying went, all magic came with a price; if that was the one he paid for the power he wielded, both politically and magically (though much less in that capacity), he’d gladly pay it. 

Enjoy your time together now, children, Gold thought as he smashed the apple against his desk, juice running down his fingers with an odd hiss. No one gets the upper hand on me. This is just beginning.

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thanks, as always!!! tagging:  @kat2609​​ @thesschesthair​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​​ @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​ @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​ @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ineffablecolors​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​​ @stubblesandwich​​​ @killian-whump​​ @phiralovesloki​​​ @athenascarlet​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​ @snowbellewells​​​ @idristardis​​​ @scientificapricot​​​ @searchingwardrobes​

[anistarrose]

Entropy (The Owl House)

Summary: As a witch, Eda thrives on unpredictability and chaos. Unfortunately, so does her curse.

Word count: 1734

Warnings: mild violence, but it’s no darker than the show itself

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22518526

The first of what I expect will eventually become many Owl House fics from me! This story is set a few months before Luz’s arrival to the demon realm, but also has some big spoilers for Episode 4, so beware!

***

Eda believes that unpredictability is a witch’s best friend. Magic should always be a little wild, a little feral, a little chaotic, a fickle force of nature that keeps its users on its toes. Predictable magic is weak magic, diluted magic, practically homeopathic magic that’s left with nary a spark of what once made it so fierce and formidable.

This is the philosophy that’s made Eda the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. It’s the philosophy that’s helped her dodge imprisonment for decades. It’s even the reason why against her better judgement, she invited a scrawny little demon with an extreme superiority complex into her home — and as loathe as she is to admit it to King’s face, the little wannabe tyrant has brightened up more of her days than she’d ever expected.

Adherence to a status quo leads only to stagnant magic. Routine makes the bile in Eda’s heart run dry. Variety is the spice of life, and despite all the challenges she’s had to overcome — or perhaps even because of them — Eda is living.

But the most potent curses are always the most ironic ones. The ones that weave themselves not out of foreign magic, but out of the victim’s own nature, turning strengths into weaknesses and prides into secret shames.

In Eda the Owl Lady’s case, this means that her curse is very wild, very feral, very chaotic, and never predictable. When the feathers begin to sprout and she feels the telltale pinpricks of quills in her hair, when her fangs begin to elongate and her stomach makes its appetite known through bloodcurdling growls, she only has a matter of minutes at best before she loses herself — only a few minutes, at best, to find her elixir and stave off her transformation.

And if there’s no elixir in reach to be found, well… her last few moments of lucidity are best spent ensuring that no one will be around to see her in this state, both for her sake and theirs.

***

Eda is unceremoniously tossed into a Conformatorium cell, unable to get to her feet before the cold iron anti-magic gate slides down in front of her. The gaps between the rungs look plenty wide enough for King to slip through, which means either the guards haven’t noticed him shuddering and trying to hide in Eda’s arms, or they just don’t care enough about whether he escapes to bother securing him better.

“The Warden will be seeing you shortly, Owl Lady!” one guard barks from behind his beaked black mask. “I’m sure the two of you will have plenty to discuss!”

As their jailers leave, King wriggles out of Eda’s arms. “Are they gone?” he meekly asks, poking his snout out between the bars and peering down the hallway.

“Yes, but not for long,” Eda grunts as she attempts to draw a small spell circle in the air. A few sparks surround her fingertip, but fizzle out before the circle is complete. “Drat. They learned their lesson from the last time I broke out of this place.”

“Then looks like it’s the King of Demons’ turn to save the day!” King declares, raising a tiny fist. “And what better place to find recruits for my army of darkness than here, in this cesspool of sinister machinations and forbidden black magics!”

He pokes his head into the adjacent cell, in which a demon with foot-long pointed nails leans against a wall. “You there! You look like a foul, black-hearted creature if I’ve ever seen one! How about you join my prison riot?”

“Are you joking? There’s nothing foul or black-hearted about overthrowing an unjust government institution that misuses its authority,” the demon scoffs, continuing to polish their nails. “Come back and talk to me again if you think of something that’s really evil.”

Muttering to himself and shaking his head, King trots over to the prisoner on the opposite side of Eda’s cell. “How about you? You’ve got a lot of life left ahead of you — do you really want to spend it all in a prison?”

The baby in the cell ignores him, preoccupied with repeatedly stabbing a knife into the floor.

King trudges back to Eda’s side, head hanging. Very quietly, he asks: “Eda, what if I’m just not cut out for demonic tyranny?”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Eda rubs his head. “I’ve never seen a demon more power-hungry than you are, you evil little thing. And hey, it’s not all bad — now you know exactly what types of demons not to recruit for your army of darkness!”

King’s mood immediately lightens. “You’re right, I just need to look on the bright side of things! Like how at least you didn’t have your staff with you today, so it’s not going to end up locked away in the warden’s contraband pile!”

Eda tries to retort that if she’d had her staff, she never would’ve gotten captured in the first place — but her throat has gone dry. After all, she hasn’t had anything to drink in hours.

Why do the torches in the hallway suddenly hurt to look at?

“All they actually confiscated was that orange potion you were drinking,” King goes on, completely oblivious. “Good thing they didn’t take anything important, ha!”

Eda runs a hand through her hair. Her fingers graze quills, sprouting from her scalp.

No! Not here, not now! Not in front of —

“King, you have to leave,” she hisses, falling to her knees and clutching her chest. “Squirm through the bars and run. I’ll catch up later.”

“Are you serious? I’m not leaving you!” King exclaims. “I can’t fly back home unless you carry me!”

He’s so precious.

So stubborn.

such dumb, easy prey

“I know a way to break out of here, but it’s — it’s — you’ll just get caught in the crossfire if you stay.” Eda claps one hand over her mouth, hiding her extending fangs, and with her free hand, picks up King by the scruff of his neck and stuffs him through one of the holes in the iron grate. “The guards will all be distracted in just another minute or two, so don’t waste your chance! Run and meet me back at the Owl House!”

no, little demon

come back inside, little squirrel creature

Halfway across the Conformatorium’s main chamber, a door creaks open, and King finally takes it as his cue to bolt.

so bright

too bright

can’t see

kill the lights

“Eda the Owl Lady!” Warden Wrath’s voice echoes. “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment…”

new demon

bigger demon?

bigger meal

Warden Wrath is wholly unprepared for the explosion of claws and feathers that tears through iron like it’s parchment, then barrels out of the Owl Lady’s cell with a scream that would cause a banshee to lose their voice for a week. The monster rakes a clawed hand across the wall, shredding half a dozen torches into tinder with a single blow — then turns to face Wrath, baring her fangs and grinning.

Wrath has read of the bloodthirsty strixes, the owlishly metamorphosed victims of potent curses — but he’s never encountered one face-to-face, never stared into these black eyes that are simultaneously so empty and so cunning. A lesser warden might turn tail and flee, but Wrath knows his duty.

Strixes are unnatural. Improper. Unpredictable. Feral.

Unsuitable for society, but a worthy opponent for him.

He charges, swinging a scythe-hand, and Eda effortly catches it with her fangs. She swings Wrath around like a toy, sending him careening into the wall — but he has a trick up his sleeve, and he transforms his hand into a hammer that pries Eda’s jaws open before she can extricate her teeth from his flesh.

Wrath laughs as Eda recoils, as she spits out dark ichor and shards of shattered yellow fangs. The acidic ichor sizzles as it lands on the cobblestone floor, and its ghastly smell reaches Wrath even through the herb-stuffed beak of his mask.

Seeing their warden stagger backwards from the pool of acid, two guards rush Eda — a mistake, they realize a few seconds too late. They add a degree of entropy to the battle that the strix exploits, whirling around and delivering two powerful kicks from her rear legs — and before Wrath can even admonish his inferiors, they’ve been flung on top of him, their heavy metal armor pinning him to the ground.

Eda licks her lips, advancing slowly, savoring the moment. A tiny drop of icor dribbles down her chin from the corner of her mouth, and her batlike ears twitch with delight.

Wrath’s arms are pinned, and any sudden shapeshifting movement will surely provoke the strix to lunge before he can get an attack off. Unable to remove his mask, yet left with no other option, he points his head at Eda as best as he can, and opens his mouth.

As the spout of flame incinerates the likeliness of a raven beak and spills out to fill the hall, Eda screeches and extends her wings so quickly that a sonic boom tears though the Conformatorium. Cast-iron gates are shattered, cobblestone is pulverized into rubble, and leagues of demons and witches run free.

Nearly overwhelmed by the stampede, Wrath staggers to his feet just in time to see the strix take flight, and soar out the skylight at the top of the prison dome.

***

Eda awakens beneath a tree, scattered patches of feathers still present where the early-morning sunlight hasn’t yet crept through the leaves to dapple her skin. As she collects herself and steps out into the direct sunlight, her transformation fully reverts — though her stomach still grumbles for flesh and blood. She’ll just have to get home quickly and quell it with an elixir, instead.

When she walks into the Owl House, King almost immediately springs into her arms and breaks down sobbing. “I was so worried! I ran like you said but I heard so much screaming and I saw something get lit on fire and I wasn’t sure if that was what you meant to do or —”

“I never do exactly what I mean to do,” Eda tells him, forcing a smile. “It wouldn’t be very wild and unpredictable of me if I did, would it?”

She sets King down on the couch. “But you can always count on one thing — I’m never leaving home without my magic staff again.”

[marvel-lucy]

The Safe Place - chapter 3

You want a chapter filled with action, excitement, character development, thrills, spills, sex, drugs and rock and roll? Go elsewhere then.  You want bread baking and a dog? Come right on in, wipe your feet first please... Chapters 1 and 2 on my Masterlist, and here’s Bucky on his farm...

You stepped back as Steve climbed into the truck, grabbing hold of the dog’s collar as he jumped enthusiastically, stopping him getting run over. The truck reversed, and a hand waved out of the window as it bumped off down the track.  Taking a steadying breath, you turned, walked back towards the house.

‘Come on then boy, let’s go make friends.’

Bucky was still sitting on the bench, one hand resting on his knee now since the dog had moved away. Without the larger-than-life presence of Steve, now he sat, eyes lowered, and his still-gloved left hand was tensed in a fist.  You felt a rush of pity for him and all he’d endured. Just a few weeks in Hydra’s hands had left you fearful and angry at the world; here he was after decades under the Hydra thumb and he was facing far less of the care and compassion you’d been given. You didn’t stay up to date with the news – out here the world seemed far enough away not to matter – but on your infrequent trips into town you’d seen newspaper headlines and photos full of angry, vicious faces, protesting at the pardon he’d received. You hoped that there had been another side to the story, and wished you knew more now.  Still, at least here you could show him some kindness, let him know that not everyone wanted to see him punished.

You’d been standing there too long but it seemed both of you were used to long silences.  Your dog was less willing to wait things out, and after sitting for a moment, leapt up and nudged against Bucky’s knee again, demanding more attention.  He started to rub at the dog’s ears again.

‘He’s a soppy creature, Cosmo, but actually he can be pretty fierce, just not with people he trusts. He’s taken a shine to you, but he doesn’t to everyone. He knows good people from bad.’

There must have been something in your voice that showed you were speaking from experience. Bucky looked up, and met your eyes, a question in his look.  While you answered, you were able to properly look at him for the first time. His eyes were hooded, sunken, as if he wasn’t sleeping. There were deep lines etched on his forehead, and his beard looked less intentional, more as if he couldn’t face taking care. His shoulders were still hunched, and you felt a pang in your heart, you’d seen this look on some of the other Avengers when they came here – you’d seen it in the mirror often enough too, when the nightmares got bad.

‘Not long after I moved here, there’s a guy lives on a farm a few miles over. Came over to see if it was true that there was a woman living out here alone, think he was maybe hoping to put some moves on me, well, up until he actually saw my face anyway. Quickly changed his mind after that. But he didn’t like the fact I didn’t want to listen to him telling me what I should do with the land, got a bit pushy, let’s say. I was OK, but Cosmo took against him.’ You looked down fondly at the dog, who was now lying on the floor, belly bared, wriggling his spine against the boards. ‘I know it’s hard to believe, but when this idiot starts snarling, it’s pretty scary.’  You nudged Cosmo with your foot and watched his tongue loll dopily out of his mouth.

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Bucky said, and you saw his face change for a moment as he smiled, before he looked back down at Cosmo, ruffling his fur. You silently blessed Cosmo for being what Bucky needed – a non-judgemental friend.

‘It’s late, are you hungry? I’m going to assume you always are, since Steve basically inhales food whenever I see him, so I’ll go make lunch. Do you cook?’

He obviously wasn’t expecting that. You’d been at the Tower long enough to know that there were teams of people dedicated to filling the fridges with food; whole kitchens set up to have whatever the team wanted, whenever they wanted it. Not here though. When you’d first settled here, you’d forced yourself to cook, each meal was a minor victory for self-care. Now it was a pleasure, and living on your own meant you could spend hours slowly preparing a meal, just for the joy of it. But you weren’t about to become a kitchen skivvy for anyone – if Bucky wanted to eat, he had to help. And more importantly, if he didn’t want to eat, you’d make sure he was involved.

‘Um, I mean, I guess. I can boil things anyway. That’s pretty much all we did when I was growing up.’

‘I’m gonna take that as a no then. You can chop.’  You pulled open the door, then paused, expectantly.  Bucky looked up at you, and realised you were waiting.  He pulled himself upright, and walked back into the house.  As he walked past you in the doorway, you could feel him pull his arm in, heard him brush against the doorframe rather than risk touching you.  You didn’t think he was doing it out of respect, but a fear of touch. At least he’d let Steve hug him, at least he had something.

In the kitchen, you set him to cutting vegetables, while you busied yourself in making bread with some dough you’d set to rise that morning, before you knew how this day was going to go. You watched Bucky out of the corner of your eye, saw him hesitate as he started to cut tomatoes, before pulling his glove off, carefully setting it down where it wouldn’t get messy. His hand flashed silvery like the knife blade as he moved, metal plates shifting. You made no comment as you reached past him, scraping the tomatoes into a bowl. His movements were careful, precise, but his shoulders remained hunched and you could feel the pretence he was putting on, that this was a normal life.

The smell of the bread rolls baking slowly spread through the kitchen, and you hoped that it might spark some appetite in him.  You were torn between compassion and dread at the coming weeks. Company wasn’t something you were good at, but your heart wanted to fix this broken man, as it always did when any of the Avengers turned up.

‘OK, I think they’re done,’ you said, pulling open the oven, and looking around for a cloth to take the tray out. Cosmo had a habit of pulling them off the rack and dragging them god knows where, you often found them dumped in far corners of your plot. ‘Shit, where’s he put them now?’

Before you could reach into a drawer for a new cloth, an arm reached past you. You could feel the warmth of someone standing behind you, and very carefully, barely breathing, moved sideways to give Bucky some room, carefully not to touch him.  His silver hand reflected the dying orange of the heat of the oven as he pulled the baking tray out.

‘I guess I’ll keep you around, then, if you can make yourself useful as an oven glove.’ You didn’t mean to be flippant, it was an awkward habit, but perhaps it was what was needed, tackling the elephant in the room head on.  You saw a small smile quirk at the corners of Bucky’s mouth.

‘I’ll be sure to thank Hydra if I see them again,’ he said, setting down the tray on the countertop.

It was a start. Nothing was going to change with one stupid comment from you, long unused to company, but at least the barriers of formal politeness might start to recede.  You both carried food over to the table, and sat to eat.  You could see Bucky was being polite, helping himself to normal-person sized portions in silence.

‘I’m used to supersoldier levels of appetite, so please don’t starve yourself on my account. I’ve seen Steve out-eat a whale, don’t be polite.’ He looked up, caught your eye, and then quickly looked away as he reached for another roll.  Putting the bread onto his plate, you watched as he slowly tore it into little pieces, very few pieces making their way into his mouth. What had Steve said? Nausea, forgetting to eat… You cursed yourself silently as you realised that for all his appetite, he was living with anxiety, fear, dread on a level you couldn’t fathom.  Still, you knew his body needed feeding, the serum running through calories at marathon levels. Steve had wanted you to look after him, so it was your duty to get him fed.

‘I’m going to be working outside this afternoon. You’re welcome to join me, but settle in first if you want.  I’ll leave this food here, help yourself to whatever.’

He was like an animal you’d realised. Probably felt safer alone, so maybe if you left the table, he’d eat what he needed.  You nodded to him as you stood, but the momentary camaraderie of the kitchen had passed and he wasn’t meeting your eye.  You whistled for the dog, and set off. You weren’t lying, there was always work to do – the distraction of physical labour was something you appreciated, taking you out of your own dark thoughts.

Outside, you brought out your axe, ready to start splitting logs, knowing that winter was on its way. There had been frost on the ground the last few mornings already, although there was enough warmth left in the sun that once you’d got into a rhythm, you knew you’d warm up enough to shuck off your jacket.  Stretching your arms for a moment before starting, you were startled by a voice behind you.

‘Can I help?’

You couldn’t help but jump, feeling guilty immediately as you saw a look of shame come over Bucky’s face.

‘Sorry, you startled me. Not used to having people out here I guess. But sure, I’d appreciate it.  Steve always manages to get the wood done in half the time I do, and that’s when he’s going slow.’

You saw a small smile appear on his face as you handed over the axe.  

‘Make sure you tell Steve I was faster.  Been living on my own farm the last few years, while he’s been getting soft in Stark’s tower.’

You let out a laugh, breath white on the chill air.  It was good to see there was still the human side in there. You knew he’d done well in Wakanda, from the reports you’d seen. He just needed to be reminded that he could get there again, that what Zemo had restarted was gone now, thanks to Shuri.

He worked fast, splitting logs without any sign of fatigue or effort. You acted as dogsbody, carrying the split wood up to stack by the house, although you couldn’t keep up with his speed.  

‘Take a break, that’s enough for this winter, and probably next too.’  He looked up, eyes slightly glazed, and you got the feeling he’d fallen into a reverie as he worked. A good thing, he needed to get out of his head.  ‘It’s going to start getting dark soon, I’ll get this last lot stacked, go on in.’

He shook his head slightly, and picked up an armload of wood – what to him was an armload anyway, putting your few pieces to shame. Between the two of you, you’d stacked all the wood up as twilight fell.  Standing on the porch, you took a moment to stretch your back out, and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky flaming with orange light in one last burst. Cosmo appeared, always ready for a meal and knowing when one might be provided, and Bucky stood looking out at the sky too, hand resting on Cosmo’s head, peaceful together.

You quietly walked past them and went inside, bringing out two bottles of beer.  Bucky was sitting on the porch step now, Cosmo patiently sitting beside him.  You handed him a bottle.

‘I know it doesn’t affect you, but it’s a good ritual, I always think. A good bit of work, and then watch the stars come out with a bottle of beer.  The stars are good here, clear, no light pollution.’ He didn’t respond, and you started to feel silly, offer platitudes to someone who’d seen what he’d seen, been through all he had, as he sat silently. ‘Sorry, ignore me. Just an old woman who’s lived on her own too long.’  You turned, started walking back inside, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

‘No, sorry, I- I was just thinking… this is what I liked to do in Wakanda.  The sky there is so clear, at night if I couldn’t sleep, I’d just lay out in the grass, look up… felt like you were falling into space, there was nothing for miles around. Peaceful.’  He looked up now, at where you’d paused as he spoke.  ‘Last few months it’s been the Hague, New York, just bright lights and noise and cells and buildings and… this is good.  Thanks,’ he added, tilting his beer bottle towards you.

You took it as a cue, sat down on the step near him, a safe distance helped by the presence of the dog. You stared off into the sky too. This was your favourite time of day.  Body tired from hard work, but the terrors in the dark hadn’t come yet.  You tilted back your head, drank some beer, lost in your thoughts.

‘Thanks,’ his face was lost in the darkness now. Perhaps that was easier.  ‘For being so gracious about this, about me being dumped on you. Steve didn’t really give me a choice, and I guess he didn’t give you one either… I’ll keep out of your way, but it’s nice here. Thanks, for making it as un-awkward as this situation can be.’

You let the silence fall again for a moment before replying, listened to the wind rustling the grass, the last calls of birds heading to their nests, the sounds of the evening wrapping the house in the dark.

‘I don’t know what Steve’s told you about this place, but they all come here at times. When the world gets too heavy, they come out here, get away from it all. I’m glad it’s here for you too, to find some peace.’

Silence fell again, for just a moment, before he spoke.

‘You’re going to make me work so damn hard for that peace aren’t you?’ The dog’s ears pricked up at the unexpected sound of laughter in the night from them both.

---

@melconnor2007 @avengerscompound @kittyslove @badassbaker @phoenix21love @lbouvet  @bellenuit45 @prplprincez  @gingerrootknits @pineapplebooboo @feelmyroarrrr @avengerofyourheart @eyeofdionysus@hellomissmabel @learisa @mitra-k-w @imhereforbvcky @shaddixlife @supernatural-girl97 @iwillbeinmynest @amrita31199 @algud @whatsbetterthanfantasy @pixierox101 @madcheshire89  @chipilerendi  @mckorni32843 @amandarosemire @nyxveracity @sea040561 @mrsalh32611 @ruinerofcheese @callmebucky-doll @vintagepigeon  @sassycanoodler  @natcad @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @mywinterwolf  @moderapoppins @rinthehufflepuff @holyfuckloueh @onebatch–twobatch @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@patzammit @procrastinatingart1st @princess76179 @marvelouspottering @fangirlanotherjust​  @notyourtypicalrose​@princess-rene@miraclesoflove @scarletluvscas @inlovewithjamesbarnes @mizzzpink​@creepylittlemarvelgirl @rand0mfangurlstuff @occasionalwritingsofmia @tony-stank3​

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Goodbye, Old Friend

AN: So I posted about this idea before, and Pluto said it would make for a good fanfic. So here we are! Takes place after the Brainwashed trilogy, in which Snowball is reverted to a normal hamster.

This fic is 9326 words and I have no idea how this got to be triple the length of We’re Just Mice or A Whole New World.  

Summary: Post-Brainwashed trilogy. Brain and Snowball were close once, until the world tore them apart. Then Snowball tried to kill him physically and emotionally. And now Snowball is a normal, innocent hamster. Brain tries to come to terms with this.  

FFN Link

Life returned to normal after they stopped that infernal dance from rendering Earth’s population criminally stupid.

He still aspired to take over the world, Pinky never pondered what he pondered, and Madonna seemed to have taken a leaf out of Precious the Cat’s evil book and given the world a new aggravating dance craze that was guaranteed to stall humanity’s progress by eight centuries.  

The only element missing was the occasional detour into stopping Snowball’s schemes when their ambitions and methods clashed.

He wouldn’t have to lose an entire night that could’ve been devoted to hypnotizing Dwayne Johnson so that he would promote the Brain as emperor of the world.  He would have more time to create an irresistible ice cream flavor, followed by assuming control of a popular ice cream franchise to produce it, and nobody would catch on to the sweet additive that would plant the idea of hailing Brain as their ruler.  

Logic dictated that he would be more efficient and focused.

And if his thoughts wandered onto that unwelcome emotional tangent, he should be pleased by Snowball’s loss of sentience.

Snowball was nothing but trouble. Always taunting him, trying to break his partnership with Pinky, and interfering with his plans. He knew how to damage Brain’s pride and dignity and take advantage of his flaws. He attempted to chip away at Pinky’s unwavering loyalty, scoffing at Brain for associating (not the true definition of their partnership, but it was better than relying or depending) with a lesser creature.

Brain growled, snapping his pencil in two and flinging the broken pieces against the wall. They landed on the tiled floor with a dull clatter. The noise wasn’t satisfying in the slightest.

Wonderful. Now he needed a new pencil.

Kicking aside the scraps of a non-viable plan, he stalked over to the pencil holder and selected the only writing utensil that didn’t have a scientist’s toothmarks all over it. Then he marched back to his notepad, intent on distracting himself with a complex stoichiometry formula.

“It’s like this, Snowball! One! Rainbow! Cumin! Troz!” Pinky exclaimed, batting a crumpled ball of tin foil into the air, each hit punctuated by a poor attempt at counting the integers above one.  

Snowball was more interested in mindlessly gnawing on the tin foil than playing Hacky Sack though. Not that it stopped Pinky, who switched to tossing and catching the tin foil with his mouth only.

Brain tried to ignore them, but concern for the other rodents’ lungs and stomachs overpowered his desire to write out mathematical operations.

“Pinky, find another ridiculous activity that doesn’t involve slobbering over random objects!” Brain snapped. “And give Snowball something edible to chew on!”

He kept his gaze trained on Pinky, who saluted with his mouth stretched to an uncomfortable degree by the tin foil ball. Snowball had prized himself on intelligence, and to see him behave so primitively was beyond mortifying.

Pinky made a muffled noise that could’ve been anything from “Aye-aye, Captain Brain!” to “Let’s sprinkle ourselves with fairy dust and breadcrumbs and fly to Neverland!”

With a heavy sigh, Brain delivered a hard slap to Pinky’s back. The tinfoil popped out of Pinky’s mouth, trailing saliva as it skittered across the counter.

“Thanks, Brain,” Pinky chirped. “Ooh, my back is super tingly. Just like the time I made a slip-n’-slide with aloe vera!”

“Yes, how could I forget?” Brain muttered. The excess aloe vera had ruined his hypersonic satellite transmitter after all. “Hand sanitizer was never meant to be used in such a manner.”

“Oh, but the aloe vera was so polite. The soap squirty-thing by the sink though, now she could use some lessons in saying please and thank you,” Pinky said, grabbing a food pellet from the bowl. He produced a small silver tray and made a show of preparing the food pellet for consumption, sprinkling some sort of invisible spice on the dish.

Brain rolled his eyes as Pinky draped a tissue over one arm and carried the tray above his head with just one hand, humming a nonsensical tune as he set the tray in front of Snowball, who sniffed the food pellet once and drew back. “Yerrrr dinna, monseeyour,” Pinky drawled with a horrible French accent. “Bon appetity!”

“It’s pronounced appetit,” Brain corrected. “I can hardly blame Snowball for being appalled.”

Pinky hurried back to the bowl, plucking a large food pellet from the top of the pile. “He probably just doesn’t like paprika. Maybe he’s more of a pepper type. Hey Brain, have you seen my pepper sneezy turncrankanizer anywhere?”

The pepper mill was hidden in the back of a kitchen cupboard, but Brain had no desire to experience a bout of unstoppable sneezing fits.

“I don’t know, Pinky,” Brain shrugged. “You never store your belongings in the same place.”

“Okay, just a dash then,” Pinky said, though ‘just a dash’ in Pinky’s vocabulary meant completely coating the food pellet with invisible pepper. He waved the new pellet in front of Snowball’s nose. “Try it now, Snowball!”

But Snowball chittered at Pinky and pushed the pellet aside, his nose quivering with apprehension.

Brain forced himself to look at a colorful, childish poster of the scientific method on the door instead of Pinky’s pathetic attempts to find Snowball something to eat.

Hearing Pinky adopt different methods to entice Snowball to try a food pellets, from airplane noises to grunts that accompanied silly faces, it brought memories to the forefront of his mind.

Memories that had never truly disappeared, buried into the farthest, deepest crevices by his ideals of global domination.

Making Snowball laugh after a grueling experiment left him sore and aching. Seeing who could make their wheel spin faster and faster until they collapsed from dizziness. Holding hands and sleeping against the bars of their cages because it was the only way to feel warm in those cold, lonely nights.

Life was simpler before the fallout, before the accursed gene splicer, before the world haunted every waking hour and dream.

By contrast, Pinky was a paradoxical miracle. Pinky was bred for companionship and comfort, but someone brought him into a life of sterility and mazes. He had every right to be angry, every right to lash out and bite the oppressors who lorded over his existence, yet he found the strength to smile instead.

Despite the pain, Pinky laughed. And Brain didn’t understand how.

A hard and dry object rolled over his foot, a welcome distraction from his darkening thoughts. Brain picked up the food pellet, scowling at the pigsty their cage had transformed into while he’d been distracted. Pellets were scattered everywhere, there was a puddle by the water bottle, and Pinky was inspecting the underside of the empty food bowl like he’d found an interesting speck of dirt there.

But Snowball was nowhere to be found.

“Snowball! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Your tummy’s gonna get Brain-grumbly if you don’t eat soon!” Pinky called, shifting the bowl like Snowball would just magically drop out from the bottom. “Poit, this speck of dirt is shaped like a squash! I never noticed before!”

“Pinky, there are many things you don’t notice,” Brain sighed. “Such as Snowball getting lost and not having the mental capacity to remember his route.”

“Just like how I lost my marbles last week,” Pinky sniffed, wiping his nose with his tail. Brain wrinkled his nose and passed him a tissue. Pinky accepted it with a grateful nod and blew his nose. “Poor Snowball. He must be hungry! Scared! Alone! Bamboozled!”

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said, though it was taking a considerable amount of effort to stop his ears from drooping and betraying his own thoughts. “Your marbles have been missing a lot longer than just last week, I’m afraid. Now cease this blubbering and clean up our living quarters while I search for our wayward hamster.”

“Right, Brain,” Pinky nodded, a spark of determination shining in his blue eyes. “I’ll make those coins spick-span and squeaky clean!”

Pinky tied a cloth around his ears, humming a light, airy tune as he grabbed the broom and set to work. Brain quickly vacated the cage. Pinky would vigorously scrub every spot he deemed filthy, and living things were not excluded from Pinky’s cleaning sprees.

He started with a sweep of his usual planning station and nearby counters, discovering that his blueprints and measuring instruments were in slight disarray. His first instinct was to blame Pinky, but since his protractor hadn’t been carted up to the top shelf and used as a zipline in an impromptu game of Batmouse and Raven, it was more likely that Snowball knocked it over.

Snowball had clearly retained a desire to mess with him.

He returned everything to their proper positions, concluding that Snowball was in a completely different room.  Brain knew he’d have to make up for lost time later, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

As he crossed the next room, he gave Billie’s cage a wide berth. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with unflattering comments about his proportions, and he still had no idea what caused him to ever be infatuated with her in the first place. Luckily, she was too preoccupied with tying a pink ribbon to her tail to notice him, and he made it to the hallway without any issue.

Brain marched down the corridor and listened for any signs of activity, but there was only the sound of his footsteps and the white noise of the air conditioner. He stopped by the breakroom, grabbing an apple slice from a snack platter to entice Snowball into following him.

“Snowball, I know you require sustenance. If you refuse the food pellets, then I will procure some organic food for you,” Brain called into a room full of guinea pigs. Their noses twitched greedily at the scent of the apple slice, but Brain tightened his grip and ignored them.

These creatures weren’t genetically enhanced. Their only goals in life were food, reproduction, and mindlessly catering to the scientists’ whims. Once Brain determined Snowball’s absence, he hastily left and ignored the guilty pang at leaving the guinea pigs so listless and defeated.

It was fine, he told himself. He’d rule the world one day, and unethical practices would no longer be tolerated and paraded around as necessary for progress in scientific fields.

The next area was a medical room, and the constant humming of the equipment made Brain’s fur stand on end. It was deceptively white and sterile, a stark contrast to the shadowed blues and blacks that surrounded their cage. This was where humans acted as judge, jury, and executioner. Some came out with minor changes, others had their qualities significantly altered, and the unfortunate ones never came back at all.

Several vials of liquid weren’t aligned with the others along the shelf, and Brain knew they’d been recently used. Those vials were the reason Pinky wasn’t allowed to venture past the breakroom alone. The simpleton would believe it was apple juice and guzzle it down, and the thought that he could fall asleep and never wake up again would never cross his empty mind.

Brain wasted no time in ruling out this horrible place. A primitive mind would still register the sense of impending doom and avoid danger at all costs.

Then a sharp squeal pierced the air. Brain rushed into the hall, readying his apple slice for a bopping in case he needed to reprimand Pinky for abandoning his post, but no laughter or verbal tics accompanied the sound.

He tensed as the squeal echoed off the walls, accompanied by a shriek that was somewhat higher. Brain followed the sound until he was in front of a heavy metal door at the end of the hall. A radioactive symbol was posted on the door, though the lab didn’t carry such potent materials due to their high expenses. The bottom was blocked off with a thick seal that even Pinky’s malleable body wouldn’t be able to squeeze through.

The radioactive sign was just there to cover up the gene splicer, a byproduct of Project BRAIN’s failure. None of the scientists enjoyed the reminder of how their failed experiment costed them a hefty government grant.

Despite their attempts to keep the room secure, someone had botched it and left the door open enough for a curious hamster to slip through. Brain squeezed through the gap with minimal trouble, which he took as a small blessing since his head tended to get caught between spaces that other mice wouldn’t normally have an issue with.

The gene splicer was indistinguishable from any other piece of lab equipment. Still, Brain refused to go anywhere near it. Yes, the machine had granted him intelligence, but at the cost of his innocence. And though his fateful meeting with Pinky was an unintentional result of the project, it also cost him a dear childhood friend.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the adage said.

Snowball was on the ground, scratching at a drawer in a feeble attempt to reach a cage that contained a ginger colored hamster. Snowball squealed, and the caged hamster responded back in kind.

Male hamsters were territorial. Brain saw that statement in a lab textbook shortly after Snowball’s descent into evil. And sometimes he wondered if Snowball’s idea of territory had grown to encompass the entire world after the splicing.

Well, he hoped they were being territorial. He didn’t want to consider Snowball scouting for potential breeding partners.

As Brain approached with the apple slice, Snowball’s frantic scratching gave way to curious sniffing. Dropping back onto all fours, Snowball scampered over to Brain. He didn’t have a chance to set the apple slice down before Snowball nibbled on it like he’d never eaten something so delicious in his life.

“You’re worse than Pinky when he’s in close proximity to a cheese platter,” Brain said.

Snowball polished off the apple slice in record time, rocking back on his hind legs and looking at Brain with round, pink eyes. Juice dripped off his fur, front incisors poking out in a ridiculous manner.

It was impossible to reconcile the prideful, ambitious dictator with the innocent rodent. If Snowball’s desire for power had been dormant in him all along, or if the gene splicer’s explosion damaged his mind, Brain would never know for certain.

His hand was resting on Snowball’s pudgy white stomach.

Snowball chittered, shuffling closer to Brain with a dopey smile.

Suddenly it felt incredibly disturbing that anyone with a logical mind, even a former one, would want to be treated like a common pet.

Brain recoiled, clutching his hand protectively as he placed a respectable distance between himself and the clingy hamster. Snowball had no dignity to preserve, no reputation to uphold. So Brain had to do it for him.

He once cherished making Snowball laugh by tickling his belly.

But those days were over.

Snowball dropped into a quadrupedal stance and scurried after Brain, chittering in his primitive language. Brain didn’t look at him. The noise was sufficient proof of Snowball’s presence.

He didn’t want to look at Snowball.

“Come…Snowball,” Brain ordered. Snowball’s name didn’t flow off his tongue well. Not like Pinky’s. “Let’s depart. We’ll stop by the breakroom on the way back to the cage. You still require food.”

Brain slipped through the gap in the door, and Snowball readily followed. Brain kept his head down as Snowball scurried ahead, behind, and in every direction that wasn’t straight. Occasionally Snowball nudged Brain’s hands, so he kept them folded against his chest to prevent any unwanted touching.

Physical contact with Snowball would inevitably dredge up nostalgia over the past, and Brain had dwelled on their shared history far too much already.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The breakroom was a welcome diversion.

Brain put several apple slices into a napkin, carefully sliding down the chair leg and setting his bundle in front of Snowball. The hamster squealed in delight and scarfed down one slice so fast that Brain couldn’t tell if he actually chewed on it. While Snowball filled his stomach, Brain retrieved a toothpick and stuck it into a cheese cube.

By the time he made it to the ground, Snowball was already finished with his meal. Curious, Snowball sniffed at the cheese cube.

“Back, Snowball,” Brain said, holding the items above his head as he attempted to nudge Snowball away with one foot. “This is for someone else.”

Despite his best efforts, Snowball still managed to place a paw on Brain’s head and nibble at one corner of the cheese cube. Brain growled, shoving Snowball’s paw off his face. A small strip of cheese hung from Snowball’s mouth as he tumbled to the ground.

Brain glanced at the cube, relieved that the damage was minimal.

“Your greed hasn’t been altered in the slightest,” Brain sighed.

Snowball gagged and spat out the cheese, now reduced to a mushy pile of dairy and saliva.

If Pinky were present, he would’ve found it blasphemous.

Brain was tempted to leave the mush behind and let some unsuspecting human step on it, but sanitary practices won out, so the mush was scooped into a napkin and thrown into the wastebasket.

Brain signaled Snowball to follow him into the main testing area. Though Snowball no longer had an interest in the cheese cube, Brain held it away from him.

As they rounded the corner, their ears were assaulted by a high-pitched giggle. Snowball pressed himself to the ground, his stubby tail quivering madly.

Though he didn’t remember their short-lived fling, Snowball was still annoyed by Billie.  

To Brain’s irritation, Pinky was perched on the shelf by Billie’s cage. Billie preened at the attention, while Pinky seemed more interested in weaving his fingers together.  

“Natch! Whaddya think, Pinky? I made it all nice and pretty-looking for ya!” Billie flicked her tail in front of Pinky’s nose, showing off her fluttering pink ribbon.  

Pinky glanced up from his fingers, which were now interlocked in some bizarre cat’s cradle pattern.  “It’s a lovely ribbon, Billie. Looks just like the loopy G in – um, Disney’s logo?”

“Loopy G! That’s funny!” Billie laughed again, oblivious to how Pinky backed away from her cage.  

Snowball made a noise of displeasure at her squawky giggles, drawing Pinky and Billie’s attention. Pinky perked up, all his previous discomfort vanishing. He rushed down from the shelf, forgetting that his hands were locked together. Predictably, he overbalanced and tumbled to the floor.  

“Narf!” Pinky exclaimed, hopping to his feet and wobbling around. The jolt had separated his hands, saving Brain the trouble of doing it himself. “Everything’s so tilt-a-whirly!”

Brain transferred the toothpick to one hand, squeezing Pinky’s nose with the other. Pinky’s eyes darted all over the place, but he settled within seconds.

“Hiya, Brain!” Pinky grinned, his tail swishing back and forth.  

“Hello, Pinky,” Brain replied. “I assume you’ve finished cleaning?”

Pinky nodded. “Yup! All the quarters are clean now! George Washington has never looked shinier!”

Before Brain could reply, Snowball shoved his way between them and forced Brain to release Pinky’s nose. He chittered in displeasure at being ignored.

“You’re not the only mindless creature that requires focus,” Brain scolded as he reached over Snowball’s back and shoved the toothpick into Pinky’s arms. “Be patient.”

Pinky gasped, clutching the toothpick like he’d unexpectedly won a beauty competition. “For me? Oh Brain, you shouldn’t have!” he exclaimed, humming in pleasure as he took an enormous bite.

“If you’re going to react this way whenever I hand you something, maybe I shouldn’t. Try not to get splinters in your teeth this time,” Brain snapped. Pinky would enjoy a broken rubber band if he were presented with one, so it was irrational to be concerned about the cheese cube.  

“Ahem,” Billie coughed. Subtlety was not her strong suit. “Eggy, doncha know it’s rude ta interrupt? Didn’t your mother teach ya manners?”

“Manners are hardly a priority for wild animals,” Brain replied. “Now kindly refrain from distracting my associate in the future. We have important work to do.”

“Work!” Billie scoffed. “Ya have some nerve takin’ Pinky, but bringin’ Snowy here too? He made me take breath control lessons, for cryin’ out loud! But looks like the joke’s on Snowy! Pinky likes my voice the way it is!”

Pinky giggled, undeterred when Snowball aimed a growl in his direction.

“Told ya!” Billie exclaimed.

Whatever sympathy points Billie had earned from her failed relationship with Snowball evaporated into thin air. She’d never known the Snowball from before. She had no room to talk.

“Yes, hold yourself over someone who can’t understand the mortifying nickname you’ve bestowed upon them,” Brain retorted. “You must feel proud of yourself.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you,” Billie shot back. “Ya do it ta Pinky every day.”

“How I conduct myself in front of Pinky is none of your concern,” Brain said icily. He pushed Snowball closer to the door, hoping the solace of their usual living space would calm Snowball down from Billie’s incessant squawking. Snowball scurried into the other room without hesitation.

“Oh, but I think you’d be a good conductor, Brain,” Pinky said, poking his teeth with the empty toothpick. “Even if nobody in the Trans-Siberian Orchestra would be able to see you.”

For once, it wasn’t a completely terrible idea. The complication could be easily rectified. He’d have to file that plan for another night though.

“Your idea has merit, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “But it’s irrelevant to the topic at hand.”

“See what I mean?” Billie scowled. “Ya dismiss him. Ya call him names. Ya yell at him all the time. I can hear ya from my cage! Didja think these ears were for decoratin’ only? Snowy told me about ya when we were datin’. Said ya wouldn’t care what happened to anyone else as long as ya got the world! If this is how ya treat your friends, I can see why Snowy left ya!”

“Don’t!” Brain snapped, turning his back to Billie. His hands started to tremble, and he shoved them deep into his fur before he could smash the nearest object into the wall. “Don’t make assumptions about events you weren’t present for!”

“Brain?” Pinky whispered. He spread his arms with a questioning look, but Brain shot him a warning glare. Pinky’s ears drooped, yet he stubbornly refused to back off.

Brain no longer remembered what had caused the schism to widen beyond repair. Perhaps it was something he said. Perhaps it was something Snowball said. Or perhaps the world decided to make them a laughingstock, and there was no definite reason at all.

The plausible explanation eluded him. But it was a regret he’d have to endure.

Pinky tapped his foot rapidly, his bright smile replaced by an uncharacteristic frown.  

It was a rare sight on the carefree mouse, and Brain never felt prepared for it.

“Brain cares about the world, and I live here, so that means he cares about me,” Pinky declared. He held his head and tail high as he spoke with undeniable conviction. “He’ll kiss the world’s boo-boos away, you’ll see! Troz!”

Brain couldn’t entirely stop the warmth that flooded his body, even if Pinky’s defense was awfully sentimental.

Billie threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine! Tell him ta marry the world if he loves it so much! At least it’ll free ya up that way!”

“Maybe I will!” Pinky shouted as Billie stomped to the farthest corner of her cage.

“I believe we’re finished here. Come, Pinky,” Brain ordered. He gripped Pinky’s elbow and half-led, half-dragged him into the other room.

Snowball joined them halfway to the counter, abandoning a ball of tin foil he’d been pushing around.

“That’s a great idea, Snowball!” Pinky exclaimed, not caring that Snowball was burrowing between Brain’s hand and his elbow. “Let’s play football! Let’s see, that grape juice stain on the doormat can be the end zone. The gum under the spinny chair is home base. The Garfield and Otis poster is the hoop! Hmmm, there’s not much green or sand here though. I don’t know how we’d score love without sand.”

“I don’t know how you’d score anything if the players are incapable of counting,” Brain muttered. He glared at Snowball, who looked all too pleased that he succeeded in forcing Brain to release Pinky.

Whether Snowball retained his sentient persona, or if he’d always been like this and Brain’s memories were just rose-tinted, he didn’t know. Snowball couldn’t resist keeping Brain away from Pinky. He basked in Brain’s frustration, relished in his anger, cackled at his sorrow.

On that horrible night when Brain had gained the world but damned Pinky’s soul to hell, Snowball had invoked Pinky’s mannerisms to torment him. It was a terrible mockery of Pinky’s simple nature. To have the silliness but not the sincerity. To run on an exercise wheel without truly enjoying it.

Snowball was the first creature he’d ever bonded with. And Snowball had wanted Brain to be tormented with the knowledge of how he couldn’t save a kindred spirit who’d never done anything to deserve a terrible fate.

Brain curled his fingers into the fur on Snowball’s chest. Snowball’s content noises turned to a surprised squeal as he was unceremoniously hauled to a standing position. If Brain thought about it too hard, some part of him enjoyed causing pain in Snowball for once.

Brain tightened his hold on Snowball, pouring every ounce of betrayal and fury he’d ever felt towards his former friend into his grasp.

“You spit in the name of social progress,” Brain snarled. “You tried to manipulate Billie. You stole Pinky. You tried to kill us multiple times, even after I offered to save you in the jungle. You have no interest in bettering the world for us or anyone else. And you left. You left and I didn’t know where you were, or what you were doing, or if you’d been taken in by someone or picked off by predators or if you were alright! Were you lying in our childhood too? Was I just entertainment for you, even back then?”

Snowball squealed, his paws scrabbling against the air.

“ANSWER ME!” Brain roared.

His heart pounded in his ears, his breathing came out in ragged gasps. An unidentifiable force pressed against his chest, threatening to claw its way out. Just him and Snowball in a black void. Nothing else mattered. Not until he got what he wanted.

And then a warm hand enveloped his. Long fingers gently slipped into Brain’s fist and loosened it from Snowball’s fur.

Snowball plopped to the ground on all fours, his eyes round with terror.

The lab flickered into view. There was the counter, the shadowy cage bars that crisscrossed along the walls, the lab supplies. There was Snowball edging away in fright.

And there was Pinky, soothingly massaging circles onto the back of Brain’s hands.

“You don’t really want to hurt him,” Pinky said quietly.

Brain couldn’t look any higher than Pinky’s chest. As usual, Pinky’s faith in him was misplaced. Brain wanted to return all the hurt Snowball had inflicted tenfold. It didn’t matter how much he tried to avoid retribution.

Revenge was a fool’s game.

And somehow, Brain had become that fool.

Pinky had a special way of inspiring guilt without harsh words.

“I don’t know, Pinky,” Brain replied. He slowly stepped away from Pinky.

Snowball had crawled into the space between the wall and a table, the shadow of a thick bar across his face as he peered out at Brain.

This was Snowball’s future if he remained in the lab. He couldn’t help with world domination. He would just be another nameless experiment and doomed to fade into obscurity.

“You can’t stay here,” Brain murmured. “We’ll have to relocate you to another residence.”

Snowball reminded him of simple times, happy times, infuriating times. Too many bittersweet memories, too many clashing ideals.

Snowball blinked, uncomprehending.

“Yes, we’ll just need a few articles of clothing from past plans. A cover story. A man and his spouse are moving across the country and wish to rehome their hamster to someone who can provide proper nutrients and intellectual stimulation,” Brain declared. “We’ll need flyers, a proper table setup, and an application process.”

“Right, Brain,” Pinky said, already scribbling a preliminary design for their flyers. “We’ll find him a new home in no time!”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Twelve applicants so far and none of them were suitable for taking care of a rock, much less a living being. Belatedly, Brain realized that he should’ve been more selective about the locations of his flyers.

The application had a chocolate stain in one corner, random blue scribbles that wasted the ink of at least ten different pens, and several rips from coloring too hard. It was a travesty that would’ve made any actual employer tear their hair out and use ten vacation weeks to save their sanity.

“-my own little bunny rabbit! I will name him Mr. Georgie-Porgie and I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him and pat him and love him and never let him go- “

Snowball’s terrified screech was all the reason Brain needed to push the eject button, springing Elmyra Duff out of her chair and into the night sky.  

No matter what Brain thought of Snowball, he would never condemn him to a life of dress-up, embraces of certain death, and being christened Mr. Georgie-Porgie Fuzzysprinkles Bunny-Wunny the Third.

“Pinky, coax Snowball out with an apple slice. I need to go shred this abomination of a document.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brain felt the side of his head for the tenth time since he started interviewing Applicant #32, making absolutely certain his temporal lobe was firmly embedded in his skull. The application was marginally better than the others he’d reviewed so far, if one chose to ignore the ‘evil genius’ portion under occupations.

“Do you have a goal in mind regarding pet ownership, Mr…ah, your name again?” Brain asked, forcing himself to read off a list of questions he’d prepared. It was better than looking at someone with an entire vital organ for their head.

“I’d prefer to be called the Lobe,” the squishy pink mass atop a human body replied, adjusting his tie with an air of importance.  

“Narrrf! Just like the Brai-“ Pinky caught the warning look from Brain, “the Brady Bunch! The is a funny name!” He burst into a flurry of giggles, his dress billowing around him as he doubled over in laughter.

Brain cleared his throat, redirecting the Lobe’s affronted expression to him. “My wife had a…traumatic injury that enabled her to enjoy sitcoms with hackneyed plots.”

“Ah, now that’s just tragic,” the Lobe mused.

“Agreed,” Brain said. “Now, if you’ll answer the question.”

“Very well. I would raise your hamster to destroy my mortal enemy, Freakazoid,” the Lobe shook his fist. “He thwarted my schemes, ruined my traps, and called David Hasselhoff stupid! I will make him pay recompense for his actions!”

Snowball scampered across the table, nose twitching as he regarded the Lobe. Brain reached for the eject button, not wanting to give Snowball to anyone who would enable his bad traits, but the Lobe scooped Snowball into his palms before he could press it.

“There’s a certain adorable appeal to you,” the Lobe said, bringing Snowball up to his face for a closer look. “Freakazoid will never see us coming! We’ll be unstoppa-yeeeeowwww!”

Snowball chomped down on his nose…well, in the position where a nose should be.

The Lobe screamed, toppling off the chair as he dislodged Snowball from his face with a wet-sounding splat.

“Never mind!” the Lobe hollered over his shoulder. He rushed to the exit, covering his face with his hands. “I don’t want your devil hamster anymore!”

Brain set the eject button aside. There was no need since Snowball handled the rejection for him.

Snowball turned around, revealing a spongy pink blob in his mouth. Snowball chewed slowly.

Brain recoiled, and even Pinky looked nauseated.

It took a solid twenty minutes before Brain could bring himself to call Applicant #33. Seven minutes to convince Snowball to spit out the inedible substance and rinse his mouth, and another thirteen minutes for Brain to wash up and change into a spare suit since Snowball had decided to spit the substance into his face.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Brain took a sip of tea from his thimble to wash down the rasp in his voice, worn from repeating the same questions.

“I think so, Brain,” Pinky nodded. Unlike Brain, he wasn’t worn down at all. “But Space Jam would pair much better with peanut butter than with Bugs Bunny.”

Brain rubbed his temples. Nobody was a suitable candidate. Too young, too flighty, too inexperienced, too busy, the list went on. “No, Pinky,” he said. “I loathe to say it, but we may have to leave him at the mercy of a pet store. I won’t be there to control the circumstances of his purchase, but…”

“Snowball should be happy in his new home, Brain,” Pinky said. “How would you know he’d be happy?”

“If it concerns you, Pinky, I could insert a hidden camera into Snowball’s enclosure,” Brain replied, his mind racing with a thousand precautions to take in case tonight didn’t pan out. “I could monitor it from here with the proper signals. I’d have to keep my plans contained within the lab for a period of time, but it’s doable.”

Pinky still looked unsure.

“We could disguise ourselves as pet store workers and screen potential owners that way.”

Pinky played with his tail absentmindedly.

“Film a commercial that features Snowball suffering with melodramatic background music and hope someone’s protective instinct will override rational thought?”

When Pinky didn’t respond a third time, Brain bopped him on the head to get his attention. “Pinky!” he snapped harshly. “Don’t you have any inane contributions to my ideas?”

“Zort! Sorry, Brain!” Pinky laughed, shaking his head to get rid of the excess dizziness. “I was just wondering how Ellie’s doing. She’s filling the appaloosa in right now.”

“Were you chatting with the applicants?” Brain asked. He glanced at Snowball, who was fast asleep on a red pincushion. The past few hours had finally worn him out.

“I went out for a walk while you were talking to that guy with the tweed elbow patches and combover,” Pinky said. “He took a while, didn’t he?”  

“You have no idea,” Brain grumbled.

It certainly explained the suspicious lack of narfs and poits during the excruciating stint with Applicant #41. And it hadn’t been much of an interview either. Brain had learned more about the man’s failing marriage, gambling debts, and inability to fulfill a lifelong dream of being a world famous stand-up comedian than he wanted to. On top of that, Snowball had stolen the eject button, disconnecting the wiring and forcing Brain to engage him in a game of keep away, otherwise Brain would’ve been rid of that annoyance much sooner.

Pinky scratched his head, a rather futile gesture for him in Brain’s opinion. “The stars were really pretty tonight, like little specks of Christmas lights! I was looking at them when Ellie accidentally stepped on my dress.”

Brain glanced at the hem of Pinky’s dress, making Pinky twirl around to check for costume damage. But there was none to be found. “It doesn’t look ruffled.”

Pinky giggled as the hem settled around his feet. “It’s really more of a pleat than a ruffle, I think. Then Ellie took out a needle and thread and fixed it in a jiffy!”

“You don’t think,” Brain sighed. “I assume you invited her?”

“I think you’d like her, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed. “Just give her a chance!”

“Pinky, your preconceptions on what I like tend to be wildly inaccurate,” Brain said, but reluctantly decided to humor Pinky anyway. “However, you can fetch me her application. If it doesn’t meet my standards, we’ll turn her away at the door so I can partially reduce the migraine this mess will surely cause me later.”

Pinky slipped through the mail slot, returning a few moments later with a rolled-up application in tow. He hummed a dreamy tune as he presented it to Brain.

Once the application was unfurled, Brain summoned the little energy he had left and concentrated on the surprisingly professional penmanship, refusing to acknowledge the knowing gleam in Pinky’s eyes.

Though Brain scrutinized the document for faults, there was little to be found. Easy to read, correct grammar, and the education history was extensive. There were two PhD’s listed, along with a third PhD in psychology that was currently in the works.

In fact, the only thing unusual was that her surname and occupation were both listed as Nurse.

Overall, it was the best application Brain had reviewed all night. And it happened to be the result of Pinky’s dumb luck.

Pinky grinned. “Can I get Ellie now, Brain?”

“Very well. And send everyone else home while you’re out there. I don’t have the energy to handle more idiocy tonight,” Brain said, folding the application neatly and leaving the important information sticking out.

While Pinky carried out his orders, Brain checked on Snowball. The hamster slumbered on, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. His limbs were splayed out and hanging over the pincushion, but it didn’t appear to bother him, so Brain left it alone.

“Dreaming about a lush apple orchard somewhere?” Brain asked, keeping his voice low so he could have ample warning about Pinky’s return. To Brain’s relief, Snowball didn’t reply. “Perhaps you’ll be taken in by someone who owns one, if this human can’t match up to her application.”

There was a high possibility of never seeing Snowball again, no matter the outcome. While their origins were similar, there were too many bumps, too many circumstances, too much bitterness for their paths to coexist ever again.

Brain had Pinky. Snowball needed someone who would care for his needs too.

Snowball snorted and rolled over, unconsciously placing his weight against Brain. They’d slept like this before, in more ignorant times. There were no cold iron bars between them now.

The door handle clicked.

Brain shoved Snowball back onto the pincushion, rushing back to his chair and correcting the brown wig that had been knocked askew in his haste. Snowball’s eyes fluttered open, but he yawned and drifted off again.

“Enter,” Brain called. His heart pounded, and he hoped nobody would be able to hear it.

The door swung open and a blonde woman strode in, each clack of her heels confident and purposeful. Pinky was perched on her shoulder, and he gave Brain a cheery wave while she closed the door behind her.

“Hello, Ms. Nurse,” Brain said, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

Ellie sat down, her posture poised but comfortable as she set her purse in her lap. She would be considered attractive by human standards, though she didn’t flaunt it. “I’d rather be called Ellie, if you don’t mind. Only my colleagues and the children I work with call me Nurse.”

Brain nodded. “Ellie then. If you’ll give me a moment.”

He scanned the question set, debating the pros and cons of running down the list or selecting a random order. Pinky jumped to the table, the hem of his dress catching around his feet and making his landing less than graceful. But he recovered quickly, peering over Brain’s shoulder at the paper.

Describe your occupation.

Have you had pets before?

How much do you know about hamster care?

The questions blurred together, and Brain’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to ask first. Each question would either result in the applicant’s rejection or lend consideration to Snowball’s new home.

He shrugged to get Pinky off his shoulder. He wasn’t helping.  

“Your wife was telling me about you,” Ellie offered after Brain dragged the silence for too long.

Wife?

Cover story. Right.

“And what did she say?” Brain asked, unsure of why he was forgetting his own plan. He would probably have to perform damage control in case Pinky let something slip.

“That you care very much about your hamster and want to give him a good home,” Ellie replied, not reacting when Brain scowled at her. He didn’t ‘care’. He was rehabilitating Snowball. That was all. “And how you want someone to provide proper…instinctual stickers? Sorry, I must’ve misheard that part.”

“A gold star for every instinct! Narf!” Pinky cheered.

Brain wasn’t surprised that Pinky had misconstrued his intentions into something sentimental and nonsensical. “Intellectual stimulation. I will not tolerate Snowball wasting away on newspaper strips and food pellets.”

“I’d have to purchase supplies, but I’m sure I could create a miniature obstacle course for Snowball, in addition to setting up challenges where he’d need to solve a problem to get food,” Ellie said, glancing at Snowball curiously. “Did you name him Snowball because of his belly?”

“Yes,” Brain said quickly. He felt Pinky’s gaze on his neck, but waved off his concern. “Moving along, what would be your goal if I allowed you to keep Snowball?”

If Ellie noticed his deflection, she didn’t comment. “Finish my dissertation. I’m working on a PhD in psychology. More specifically, how animals affect human behavior. I’d show you if I had the documents, but your wife caught me while I was on my way home from the local university. She’s very persuasive.”

“At night?” Pinky gasped, hands flying up to his mouth.

“Pepper spray and several self-defense courses. I can take care of myself,” Ellie reassured him.

Pinky wiped an invisible bead of sweat off his forehead in relief.

“And that’s all? Just a means to an end?” Brain growled, hand twitching towards the eject button.

He might’ve been curious about her PhD’s before, but now he knew her motivation. Snowball would be used and thrown away. Her pitch had been excellent at first, but she slipped.

“Animals can help humans develop empathy,” Ellie replied. “That’s my topic.”

Brain’s fur bristled faster than Pinky could smooth it down. There had been no empathy when he was robbed of his childhood best friend. No understanding of anything he’d been forced to suffer through on his quest for world domination.

“Brain?” Pinky asked, his voice cutting into the haze. “Can we let Snowball see her? He should have a say too.”  

“Oh yes, Pinky. Brilliant idea. Because Snowball can think for himself,” Brain muttered.

Pinky shuffled over to the pincushion, mindful of the long hem. Before Brain could stop him, he shook Snowball awake. Brain gritted his teeth, remembering too late that Pinky didn’t understand sarcasm.  

“Wakey, wakey,” Pinky hummed in Snowball’s ear. “Someone wants to meet you.”

Snowball’s nose twitched, his legs kicked out, and he yawned luxuriously before finally crawling off the pincushion.

“He’s adorable,” Ellie smiled, though she thankfully refrained from making those ridiculous high-pitched noises humans seemed to emit whenever they were addressing animals.

Still, Brain crossed his arms. There were better adjectives to describe Snowball. Greedy, selfish, and irritating were the first ones he could think of.

Ellie placed her hand on the table while Pinky directed Snowball over. Snowball sniffed her fingers twice, then balanced on the edge of the table.

Brain saw Snowball’s hind muscles tense. He abandoned his chair, knocking it over as he rushed to help Pinky cling to Snowball’s back and balance his weight so he didn’t fall off. Snowball wasn’t enhanced anymore. A fall from this height could be dangerous.

But Snowball had no qualms and launched himself onto Ellie’s purse, Brain nearly falling over the edge himself if it hadn’t been for Pinky latching onto his bent tail and hauling him back to safety. Snowball burrowed underneath the flap that held her purse closed.

Just as Brain recovered from his adrenaline rush, there was a distressed squeal from inside Ellie’s purse. Ellie undid the catch and peered into the opening, her eyebrows rising in surprise. She reached in and pulled Snowball out. His incisors were caught in a plastic wrapped apple.

Snowball screeched, limbs flailing as Ellie set him on the table. Without hesitation, she held him firmly with one hand while removing the plastic from his teeth with the other. “This was supposed to be my lunch,” Ellie explained when Brain glared at her. “I got caught up in research and didn’t get a chance to eat.”

Once the plastic was gone, she carefully opened Snowball’s mouth. “Doesn’t look like he swallowed any,” she reported as she let him up. She unwrapped the apple, Snowball slipping though and tearing a huge chunk out of the fruit’s skin before she could finish. “He’s definitely a glutton for apples.”

“Feed him lots of apples! That’s his favorite!” Pinky chirped.

Though part of him was grateful for Ellie’s forethought, Brain wrenched Snowball’s jaw open to see for himself. Snowball made a muffled noise at Brain’s rough handling.

Her work had been thorough. No trace of plastic in sight.

The incident proved that Snowball’s health and well-being would be taken care of. Brain had run out of excuses.

His observations converged into one conclusion.

“You passed,” Brain murmured.

Ellie was taking Snowball home. He would never see Snowball again. Wasn’t that the plan all along? To find someone who would care for Snowball?

Then…

Why was he hoping for a failure?

Ellie glanced at him as she ran a finger across Snowball’s back. Snowball didn’t seem to mind. “Did you say something?”

“Just take him! Take him and leave already!” Brain spat.

He stomped over to his miniature desk, slamming one fist into its side. He didn’t make it to the chair though.

His legs buckled before he could sit down, and he couldn’t make them move. His throat felt too tight, his lungs aching for air. Or maybe it was his heart’s fault. Perhaps it was a heart attack causing the pain in his chest. He no longer had the strength to hold his ears up, and they fell limp, broadcasting his vulnerability to the world.

Harsh, ugly noises clawed their way out of his throat. They came fast, merciless, and innumerable.

A warm presence settled against his side, drawing him closer until Brain’s head rested against fabric and fur. Like a child, he sought out the source and clung so it wouldn’t disappear.

“Ellie’s waiting outside, Brain,” a voice whispered in his ear. “I asked her to give us time to say goodbye.”

Goodbye was such a final word.

“Why?” Brain choked, once he found the proper syllable.

“Cause you didn’t get to say goodbye before.”

As though it was the most obvious thing in the world. But Pinky only knew the bare facts of the sorrowful tale, the sparse details Brain had shared with him. How Pinky inferred it was beyond Brain.

He wanted to deny it. Argue that an angry goodbye still counted as a goodbye.

But he never had the opportunity to say goodbye with any sort of emotion, rendering it a moot point.

“I don’t know, Pinky,” Brain murmured. He wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks, noticing little damp spots all over his disguise. “It seems so…absolute.”

“Poit. You always help me when the words swirl like Campbell’s alphabet soup on my tongue. You just need the right letters,” Pinky declared. He stood up and helped Brain to his feet.

Brain blinked the rest of the dampness away. He took a deep breath, then took a step towards Snowball, who was watching him curiously while scarfing down the last of the apple.

And he froze.

Each step brought him closer to saying that final word.

Pinky nudged him from behind, helping him step forward when he was too afraid to do it himself.

“Snowball, come here,” Brain ordered. It took all his willpower to keep his voice steady.

And Snowball obeyed. He looked at Brain innocently, like nothing had ever changed between them. Like the world had never gotten in the way.

The words didn’t come.

Brain threw his arms around Snowball’s neck, eliciting a surprised squeal. But Snowball didn’t pull away, and Brain committed the feel of his fur without barriers to memory.

Then Brain released him, fearing that prolonged contact would result in a crying spell that would never cease.

The carrier was on a nearby counter. It was time for Snowball to go in.

Brain didn’t bribe Snowball with food this time. He didn’t need to. Snowball followed him across the longboard that served as a bridge between the table and counter, trusting Brain even as he led him into the carrier.

It was lined with several soft, fluffy hand towels. Pinky had plucked them out of the lab’s selection. His choices were excellent. Snowball would be comfortable despite the cramped space. Squeezing past Snowball, Brain moved out of the carrier and firmly latched the door behind him.

Snowball shuffled over to Brain, front paws grasping the bars as he balanced on his hind legs.  

Brain placed a hand against Snowball’s stomach, the warm white fur intermingling with the cold mesh of the carrier. There was a barrier that could never be crossed.

Snowball closed his eyes, a pleased trill escaping him.

Pinky stood off to the side and pursed his lips together as he tried to stay quiet. He wasn’t successful, but Brain appreciated the gesture.

“I lied earlier, Pinky,” Brain admitted as he stroked Snowball’s fur through the bars. Tickling wasn’t something he could ever go back to. “Snowball wasn’t named for his physical characteristics.”

Pinky blinked. “Did you name him like you named me?”

Of course Pinky would view it at a sentimental angle. It was just a fact and nothing more. But since Brain brought it up, he supposed he owed Pinky an explanation.

“We learned how to read together after our splicing. One night, someone left a book behind. Animal Farm, by George Orwell. There was a character…a pig named Snowball. The pig led a revolution against the farmer, and inspired both of us with his ideals of a better world. And I told him to take on Snowball’s identity, because he loved the character so much.”

Pinky was quiet for a moment, then he offered Brain a tiny smile.

“Thanks for telling me, Brain,” he said, unmistakable sincerity pouring from every word.  

“Yes, but don’t get used to it,” Brain replied. “If you have anything you wish to tell Snowball, now would be the time.”

With some trepidation, Brain removed his hand from Snowball’s stomach and stepped away from the carrier. Snowball whined in protest, but Brain didn’t give in. This would be the last time he’d ever touch Snowball.  

“Snowball,” Pinky began. The hamster paid no attention to him and only focused on Brain, but Pinky refused to let it discourage him. “I promise I’ll take care of Brain. Make sure you watch him on TV when he gets to be king of the world! Don’t worry. I’ll hold onto him so he doesn’t fall off the boat. Eat your veggies, brush your teeth, drink lots of milk…”

Seeing that Pinky had nothing of substance to say, Brain ordered him to bring Ellie in. Brain closed his eyes, the brief silence reminding him of the nights when it had just been him and Snowball fighting to make sense of an oppressive world.

Snowball would have a fresh start. Someone he could make fond memories with, memories that wouldn’t be tainted by loss, hatred, and anger.

In the end, that was all Brain wanted for Snowball. Just the simple joy of knowing someone would care about him.

He heard the clack of Ellie’s heels against tile, Pinky tripping over his hem again, and Snowball scratching at the bars of the carrier.

Brain opened his eyes, bowing his head as Ellie lifted the small carrier off the counter.

“I apologize for my outburst earlier,” Brain said. “Take care of Snowball. He was...is very important to me.”  

Ellie nodded. “It’s alright. And I promise I will. Best of luck during your move.”

She stopped halfway out the door, letting Snowball see them one final time. Brain held up one hand. That was all he could manage.

Snowball gripped the mesh and squealed. It could’ve meant anything, but Brain decided to interpret it as a goodbye for his peace of mind.

“Good luck with your dessertation!” Pinky called after her. “Save me a slice if the judges don’t eat it all first!”  

The familiar inanity helped the ache in his chest. Not enough to heal completely, but just enough to close the hole.

Brain headed over to the window, and Pinky dutifully followed. Ellie crossed the street, rounded the corner, and then she and Snowball were gone.

They shed their disguises. Their mission was complete, and there was no need for clothing anymore.

Brain stood there, raw and exposed, the complete opposite of what an emperor should project to the world.

The tears fell anew.

Pinky tucked Brain under his arm, humming a soothing melody into his ear. Bracing himself against Pinky’s side, he allowed himself to speak those final words.  

“Goodbye, old friend.”

And it was freeing.

End notes:  I think this is the most tonal shifts I’ve ever had in a oneshot. Pinky keeps breaking into the angst.

Hope you enjoyed, because this fic was a challenge. A fun challenge, but there were parts where I needed to take a moment and scream into the void.  

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Little Girls Like You pt.2

Summary: Your mother starts working from home for a while and that leaves less time for you and Tony to continue your rendezvous. One night you hear your mother and Tony going at it and it sparks something in you to get back at him

Pairing: Tony x Black!Reader

WC: 4.9K

Warnings: 18+!! a bit of angst, daddy kink, jealousy, crude language, age gap, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (use protection guys!!)

A/N: You asked, I answered. Here is LGLY pt2 and I hope you enjoy. I’m also giving credit to @blackreaders-assemble because we bounced ideas for Stepdad!Tony off of each other. If you like this please leave feedback and reblog :)

You know you should have regretted what happened but you didn’t. Well, not until your mother told you two she would be working from home because the office was getting renovated. Tony didn’t pay much attention to you anymore and though what happened between you only happened once, you became attached.

It wasn’t until your mother started feeling all over him while she was home that you started to regret what happened. You should have known nothing would really come out of that night as he was practically your stepfather. You would sit quietly at dinner as they talked about the plans they made and you’d feel a bit of jealousy in your stomach that would take away your appetite. 

“Honey, what’s wrong? I made your favorite,” your mother smiled at you. Her sweet tone honestly threw you off as you two never had a good relationship anyway. You were surprised she knew what you favorite even was.

“Thank you, but I’m just not hungry,” you pushed your plate away, “I will take it to the library with me,” you could feel Tony looking at you but you avoided eye contact, you couldn’t let him know how you were really feeling.

You have been warned plenty of times by multiple people that you’d most likely become attached to the person you lose your virginity to, but you didn’t take heed to that warning.

“Library?,” your mom asked.

“Yes, Y/F/N likes to go late at night because there aren’t that many people there to distract them. They’re taking summer classes so I told them I’d keep them company,” you get up from the table and got a Tupperware bowl to put your food in and grabbed your phone and keys,

“Drive safely, please,” 

--------

The library wasn’t that bad. You checked out a book that you had started reading while Y/F/N studied. You came back around 12 at night and figured your mom and Tony would be asleep, but you were wrong when you started climbing the steps and heard your mother moaning and Tony groaning. 

Your shoulders sank as you entered your room and threw your book on your chair in the corner of your room. As you plugged your headphones into your phone, you felt sick as you heard him groaning her name and you immediately put your headphones on and blasted the loudest song on your playlist, knowing your ears would be ringing in the morning but it’d be better than having to hear what had been going on in the next room over.

-------

The next morning the house was quiet. Your music was still playing and your phone was about to die. You close your music off and plug your phone into the charger before getting out of bed to shower and get ready for work. You were hoping the two were out shopping or getting breakfast as you got ready, but your hopes were let down when you saw Tony sitting in his boxer briefs at the table while drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper.

You didn’t make eye contact as he spoke to you in a chipper tone, “Morning, Y/N/N,” 

You didn’t reply as you grabbed yourself a cup of oatmeal to take with you on the go, you grabbed a bottle of water and placed the two items in your bag.

“Your mother went to the store to get some things and told me to let you know to text her if you need anything,”

“I don’t need anything, I’m good and if I did I could just... dr-drive myself,” you stutter, still not looking at him as you search around the kitchen for your keys. You didn’t want to be late and you were getting worked up

“Here they are, baby,” Tony held up your keys and you looked at his finger that swung the ring around.

“Please don’t call me that,” you mumble as you head over to him to grab your keys but he snatches them away from you.

“Why not?,” he frowns, “You weren’t saying that a few weeks ago,”

“What happened a few weeks ago was a mistake. Now may I please have my keys so I can go to work and forget about this place for a few hours?,” you stomped your foot in frustration.

He grabbed your arm and that’s when you finally looked him in the eye, you couldn’t tell what vibe they were giving off, “Didn’t seem like a mistake then, now did it?,” 

“That was before I came in last night and heard you boning her,”

“You can’t seriously be mad at me for sleeping with your mother. We are together after all,” he furrowed his brows.

“That’s what makes the whole ordeal more of a mistake. I’m glad she is finally paying attention to you, Tony,” you snatched your keys and stormed out the front door, breathing heavily as you got in the car and drove away to get to work.

---------

“Who do I have to fight for making such a pretty face frown?,” you looked up from your desk at the physical therapy office and smiled, “Hey, Clint,” you hand him the clipboard to let him sign himself in, “How’s the arm?,”

“A lot better. Haven’t been needing to come as often. But back to you, why the long face?,”

You shrug and wave it off, “Just problems at home is all. Nothing too serious, I’ll get over it,”  

He smirks down at you and nods, “Well, since you’re back in town and on break, how about I take you out tonight to get your mind off of what’s happening?,”

He was a really cute guy, very sweet and quite comical and he’s older which is your type so you decide go for it, “Sounds like a date,” you smile at him and he tells you he’ll pick you up at 7.

“Actually, how about I pick you up. My mother doesn’t know I’m into a... more mature audience,”

Clint gives a hearty chuckle and nods in agreement, “You’re a grown ass woman, Y/N,” 

“You know how I am with my mother,” you shrugged and he just hummed in agreement.

“Well, you know my number and address,” He points to his file, “So just gimme a call when you’re on the way,” he winks at you and you give him a sure nod.

Tonight would be a good night to forget everything that has happened underneath that roof within the past few weeks.

---------

So you changed your mind and Clint was actually on his way to pick you up. Your mother and Tony had left for a date so you figured there wouldn’t be a problem with him coming to get you. You wore what you felt most comfortable in and just did your face up a tiny bit, not wanting to over do it.

You heard the doorbell ring and you grabbed your wallet and phone, rushing down the steps. You swung the door open and Clint stood in front of you with a happy smile.

“You look great,” you compliment

“Me? You look amazing!,” he handed you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and you set them on table in the foyer.

“You really pay attention don’t you?,” you ask as you smile at the flowers.

“No, I had to ask almost everyone in the office to find out,” he admits.

“Smart move, Barton. So where are we headed?,” You close and lock the door behind you heading to his car. He opens the door for you and you get in and buckle yourself up as he shuts the door and jogs over to his side.

“Nice little place in the inner harbor,” he starts the car and starts driving away, “Just something nice to get your mind off things. There’s fireworks, drinks, dancing. Everything a little girl like you needs to relax,” he pats your thigh and your stomach jumps at the fact he referred to you as a little girl. Only one other person did that and that was the one person you were trying to rid your mind of.

————

You and Clint laughed under the fireworks as you danced and did horrible versions of the cotton eyed Joe and jitterbug. You threw your head back in laughter as alcohol flowed in your bloodstream. He pulled you close as you kept dancing.

You were having such a good time you didn’t want the night to end. The food you had was amazing, the sights were breathtaking, the people were beyond lovely it was just an overall great environment to be in right now. You kept thanking him for even caring enough to do this for you. 

“Take me home...,” you whisper against his lips, “And stay the night with me,”

He raised his brows in interest, “Ya sure?,”

“So sure,” you huffed, your lips softly met his and your wrapped your fingers around his next to pull him closer.

“O-okay. Okay let’s go,” he nodded. He took your hand in his and you two ran to the car like teenagers sneaking out of the house past curfew. Hearts pumping, smiles wide and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

He held the door open for you yet again and waiting until you were buckled up before he closed the door and ran around to his side. This is good for you right? It’s healthy? To be with someone else, someone who has no ties with you other than work.

Clint drove down the street and you could tell he wanted to speed but he realized he has you in the car and didn’t want to risk any lives tonight.

“You sure your parents won’t care you’re bringing someone like me over?,”

“Hmph,” you scoffed, “It’s just my mother and her boyfriend and they don’t quite matter. Plus when they go out for dates they stay out for almost the whole night. So we have more than enough time to ourselves. They’ll probably be too drunk to notice your car anyway,”

You turned your head to look at him with a sultry smirk and he just shook his head back at you, “You’re doing unspeakable things to me, baby,”

You put your tongue in between your teeth and smiled as you winked at him, “That’s just one of the many unspeakable things that will be happening tonight I guess, huh?,”

————

You two rushed out of the car and you were trying to rush and get your key in the keyhole so you could hurry to get inside and get a roll on tonight’s events.

Clint was kissing up and down your neck and running his hands all over your body when you finally got the door open. He pushed you inside and slammed the door behind him, turning you around and pinning you to the door. Leaving a trail of kisses from your neck down to your cleavage as you moaned out into the quiet foyer of the house.

“You sure your mom and her boyfriend won’t be back for a while?,” he asked to be certain.

“Please stop bringing them up. I told you they don’t matter,” you attached your lips to his as he picked you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Is that right?,”

The voice came from behind Clint and you two froze. You curse under your breath and braced yourself on his shoulders to make sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself when you dropped your legs. You looked over his shoulder to find Tony standing there in his night clothes with his glasses on.

“Figured you and mom would be gone,” you swallow heavily.

“Your mother got called in for a conference in Boston, so we came back early to find you gone and she told me to stay up to make sure you made it home safely and I see that... you have definitely made it home.. safely,” he eyes Clint up and down, “You can leave now,”

“W-What?,” You shrieked, “No, Clint you don’t have to go, he has no authority over me or this house,” you cut your eye at Tony and he raised an eyebrow.

“Is that right? So if I call the cops right now they wouldn’t mind acknowledging that this is also my residence now, correct?,”

You flared your nostrils at him and turned back to Clint, “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m sorry,”

“Not your fault, baby doll,”

You smiled at him as he kissed you once more before leaving and shutting the door. You and Tony waited until he was out of the driveway to start talking again.

“So he can call you that but I can’t?,” Tony scoffs.

“He’s not dating my estranged mother. He also didn’t lie to me and tell me that the only reason why he sticks around in this household is because of me, so there’s that!,” you walk past him in the kitchen and practically rip the door open to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

“Y/N, stop acting like a child! That night wasn’t a mistake but I am dating your mother,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“It was a mistake,” you deadpan. Taking a sip of your water, you blink the small wave of tears away and roll your eyes.

“Why was it a mistake huh? Because that very night you were begging for it, telling me how much you loved it,”

“It was just a mistake, Tony. You’re right, you’re dating my mother but that doesn’t take it away. Didn’t change the fact that I’m jealous of that insufferable bitch who only pays attention to you when she’s free of conferences and isn’t needed at the office for a week or two and can work from home,”

“Don’t talk about your mother that way,” he comes to her defense and you become mind boggled.

“Wow,” you laugh bitterly, “Yeah you’re right. I apologize, I didn’t mean to talk about your precious Y/M/N like that,” you frown and play with the cap of your bottle, “I wish I could take that night back, I wish... I wish it never happened because then it would make it so much easier for these feelings to be overlooked. But it’s fine, I get it because you know... lucky for you, I’ve got all these daddy issues. I mean my own dad didn’t want anything to do with me. My mom is too fucking selfish to care about anything other than finance and business and she never really wanted a fucking child anyway so of course it makes sense,” you laugh at yourself and Tony just looks at you confused.

“What feelings, Y/N?” He tilts his head in question, “And of course your mother wanted you, what are you talking about?,”

You laugh out loud in his face and slap a hand on the counter, “Did she tell you that? Because that’s not what she told me,” you shook your head, “No no noooo. She told me she never wanted anything to do with children because she can’t stand them. She says children don’t do anything but hold their parents back... imagine telling a five year old that and having to grow up knowing your mother purposely drowned herself in work so she didn’t have to be anywhere near you,” you gave him a watery smile and Tony was confused about how you could be laughing in this moment.

“I mean she should really be thanking me, that’s how she got so many promotions, without me she wouldn’t have gotten that push, ya know?,” you shrug and look back in the fridge for something to snack on when you found a pudding cup.

“You can’t just lay all of that on someone and just act so casual, Y/N,” Tony was so perplexed by you. He thought your mom was confusing? It was a different story when it came to you.

“Yeah, I can. You can forget what I said just like you can forget everything that happened that night,” you scoop spoonful of pudding in your mouth.

“Is this because I was your first?,”

“That and because you’re my type. At first I thought I was just lusting after you because I hate my mom but then after a while I realized it was so much more than that. So much more.... then that night happened and I figured things were finally going my way but then she came back and had you wrapped around her finger all over again,”

“Y/N... what do you want me to do? I care about your mother-”

“Do you love her?,” you cut him off, you step closer to him and watch as he takes his glasses off

“Excuse me?,”

“I asked if you loved her. Does she make you feel wanted like I did?,” you take another step, “Make you feel like you’re the one thing that matters?,” another step closer.

“When you let her head rest on your chest and you close your eyes, is it her you see? Or is it my face you see? Is it me that crosses your mind?,”

Tony just stares as you, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he thinks your questions through.

“Does she have any humor? Does she laugh at your jokes? Or is it none of my business?,” you arch a brow and smirk as you take yet another step and at this point you’re close up on him and whispering in his ear, “She doesn’t love you, like I do. She doesn’t have my name. She’ll never be the same because she is not me,”

You could hear Tony’s breathing and how he was trying to slow it down, he stared you down and turned to you, “And what about you, huh?,”

“Did you bring that man in here to make Daddy jealous?,” he crosses his arms and your bit your bottom lip as his intense glare made you feel small. 

“N-no,” you swallow and stand taller

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,”

“I was... I was hoping I could have a night with him to forget our night. Find something new,” you shrug, “And if you just so happened to find out then so be it,” you shrug your shoulders and he grabs your face in his hand just like he did that very night after he slapped you and had you wanting more.

“But do you really wanna forget?,” he squeezed your cheeks harder and had you whining at the feeling, “Did you really wanna forget everything Daddy did for you that night? The way he made you feel good, and had you sore? Begging for me to cum in you? You knew what you were doing because you wanted me to be the one and only deep inside you,” his other hand had already pushed down your bottoms and was working circles into your clothed clit.

“So tell me, did you really want to forget?,” he smiles at you as you shake your head no.

“I just want mom out of the picture. I want her gone so I can have you all to myself,” you admit, “She wouldn’t be hurt, she would just be onto the next. She doesn’t care about you like I do, Daddy. She doesn’t make you feel things like I do and we both know it,”

 He clenched his jaw and picked you up to throw you over his shoulder and rush upstairs to your room. He threw you on the bed and you bounced on the mattress. Immediately undressing yourself as he did the same to himself, not taking his eyes off of you. Your pussy glistened back up at him like a body of water in the moonlight. 

He dropped to his knees and pulled you close to the edge of the bed. Wasting no time, he stuck his tongue out to flick your clit. You smile lightly at the feeling, getting more of what you’ve been wanting. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking like he was trying to get the last of his drink out of a cup with a straw.

“Oh, God yes,” you spread your legs wider and he moved his head side to side while moaning against you, creating vibrations that rushed through your body. He lapped up your juices that flowed and started to drip, not wanting to lose a single drop. 

“Fuck,” he groaned to himself as he pushed two fingers in and you welcomed him as he was the one your body accommodated to. With his ring and middle finger pushed deep inside, he wrapped his other hand around your shaking thigh and watched as he finger fucked you and had you playing with your nipples and calling out for him in pleasure. 

“So fucking goooood,” sitting up a little and still flicking and pinching your nipples, you watched his fingers move in and out of you, covered in your glaze, you saw the way he watched your pussy with his mouth hung open, ready to lick up all that you had to offer.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” your head fell back as you moved your hips against his fingers. He went harder and that was your undoing. Your hips bucked up as you tightened around his fingers. He attached his mouth back to your dripping pussy, trying to work another orgasm out of you. You could hear the sucking and slurping of his mouth and you bit you lip hard and threaded your fingers in his hair.

“Daddy, please, again please,” you were panting and he held your thighs apart. His face was buried deep and his moans were bouncing off the walls right with yours. 

“Cum for me like the good girl you are,” his voice was hoarse and he made eye contact with you as his tongue was swirling around your clit and inside of you.

“Shiiiit,” your legs shook in the air as you came for the second time that night, “Fuuck,” you sighed out and wiped your hairline from the small amount of sweat that had formed. 

Tony pulled you up and slapped your cheek, “Open. Take Daddy in just like the first time,” 

You had more of an idea what to do now. You took his cock in your hand and saw the way his tip was leaking, you loved how he wasn’t too big, but he was just the perfect size to fill you all the way up, whether it be your pussy or your throat. You sucked on the tip like your favorite blow pop and looked up at him from your spot on the bed. You pulled his cock up and attached your mouth to his balls, not quite sure knowing what you were doing but you felt like you were already bold as fuck tonight, so why not? You hollowed your cheeks as they moved around in your mouth and you had Tony’s legs shaking already. 

You flicked your tongue on the seam and he threw his head back, “Yes, baby,”

You pull back and wrapped your lips around his length and started bobbing your head, loving the way he fit in your mouth. He has this vein that sat perfectly at the bottom of his cock and you ran your tongue against it, making Tony whine like a puppy.

“Love that wet mouth,” he grabbed the back of your head and started moving a bit faster, making you gag against him, knowing he loved it. He loved the way your throat constricted against his head and he found himself grinding his teeth when it happened, His face turned red in pleasure as you stared up at him.He withdrew himself and caught his breath.

“Turn around, lay flat” He twirls his finger and you do as he says. You feel him climb on the bed behind you and you felt him slap his cock against the crease of your ass cheeks. He spreads your legs and runs his head against your soaking lips.

“At first you were just a brat, but now you’re a selfish brat so Daddy is gonna fuck you like one. You want Daddy all to yourself? That’s what you’re getting,”

He pushed into you and you both groaned out at the feeling of each other, “Nice and tight just like the first time,” he whispers in your ear as e starts to move faster. He held your cheeks apart as he watched himself fuck you and your juices cover him just like the first time. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy,” he slaps your ass cheek and fucked harder. You drop your head against your pillow and claw at the covers, 

“I love it when you fuck me like that, Daddy,” you look over your shoulder and look at the mesmerized look on his face as your walls took him and wrapped around him nice and tight. He leaned forward and braced his arms by your head and lifted himself up to start pistoling his cock into you at a different angle and faster pace. You pounded your feet against the bed at the pleasure and bit into the pillow to keep from screaming, only for him to rip it away, “No, let me hear you,”

You were moaning your head off, not caring how loud you were. He pulled out and flipped you over and kept your legs spread as he reentered you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head, “Daddy, I’m gonna cum agaaain,”

“Do it,” he huffed, “Look at you creaming all over my dick,” he smiled down at where you two met.

“Oh my God,” you peered up at him and smiled, loving the view of him taking you, “I’m a good girl, right Daddy?,” your innocent puppy dog eyes were shining back up at him and had his dick twitching in you, making him fuck you harder until you were cumming all over him again, “Daddy!,”

“There goes my good girl,” his body started to glisten with sweat and he had his tongue sticking out as he concentrated on pleasing you. The moment he makes eye contact is the moment you come undone again. Your juices gushed out against him, making you call for him over and over as you became overwhelmed at the sensation. He leaned down and bit your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go to kiss you with all his might, tongue swirling, teeth clashing, moaning into each other’s mouths you closed your eyes as you felt yourself getting ready to cum yet again. You lost count on which number this would be, all that mattered was Tony. 

“It’s okay, just keep taking me like the good girl I know you are,”

You gasped for air as he just kept fucking it out of you, cumming again. Tony picks you up and puts you in his lap, fucking up into you. Chest to chest, you rest your head in the crook of his neck as he was chasing his own orgasm. His pelvis was rubbing up against you sensitive clit and you feel yet another wave coming in, “That’s right, baby girl. Cum all over Daddy’s cock again. You’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby,” he bit into your shoulder as he leaned back a bit to thrust at a different angle. 

At this point you were overwhelmed and were trying to keep from crying out. You were being turned out and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to stop or not. Tony kept kissing all over you as he whispered in your ear, “You’re fucking soaking. It feels so good. I’m about to cum so deep in that little pussy of yours,”

You wrap your arms around him tighter and scream for him, “Fuck, Daddy. Y-you feel so good, it’s too much,” you were shaking and whimpering on top of him but he just kept going. He pushes you back down and just when you think he’s about to slow down, he plays you and goes faster, knocking the wind out of you, you’re begging him to slow down because it’s so much, “I can’t take iiiit,”

“I told you I was fucking you like the selfish brat you were,” you moans into your ear and pins your hips down, going harder, making you scratch down him back and wrap your legs around him. You’re completely fucked out and can barely see straight as the tears of pleasure put a film over your eyes. Tony laughs at you and starts giving you long, deep strokes, “Fuck, princess. You’re so fucking wet and tight for me,” 

“Daddy is turning you out and you can’t even handle it. I thought you wanted me all to yourself?,” He sucked and bit all over your neck, leaving marks and admiring them

“I do!,” 

He wraps his hand around your throat as he pace starts to falter, “Then take Daddy’s cum,” his eyes start to flutter as he feels his climax coming fast.

“Leave her!,” you call out and tighten your walls around him “That’s what I want you to do. Cum deep in this pussy and leave her,” 

“Okay, Yes! fuck yes, baby,” he grinds his hips into and you feel him fill you up, his moans fill up the room and you feel once last orgasm wash over you, leaving you both calling out for each other. 

Tony falls over you and kisses the marks he left on your neck and you run your hands through his hair.

“Leave that guy alone and I’ll leave her,” Tony catches his breath and runs his thumb over your softening nipple, “And don’t ever try to bring another man in this house,”

“Yes, Daddy,”

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WHEW, I just... love Tony omfg. I hope you guys enjoyed this part just ask much! if you do please don’t forget to leave feedback and reblog :)

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