#it can also spit said venom from its mouth

[mothervega]

NEW ROBLOX OC YYAAYYAYYAAYA (definitely the most unhinged and feral out of my bunch of weirdos)

HER INFO BELOW!!

INFO:

name: Lethal

pronouns: she/it

height: varies between 5’6 - 7’0

personality: animatic_from_animatic_battle.jpg

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Scared?

Blurb: Eddie is the bane of all your desires but he is also your brother’s best friend… which makes him off-limits. During a visit to your family home Eddie gets a little fed up with you prancing around almost naked and decides that- Enough. Is. Enough.

Pairing: Older brothers best friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: slight angst, 18+, Mean!Eddie, dubcon/noncon, oral (f receiving), choking, unprotected sex (p in v) swearing, rough sex, slight Bully!Eddie, Dom!Eddie.

-

divider by @cafekitsune

It really wasn’t Eddie’s fault, what was he to do? Sit back and watch you act like a little slut? To be quite frank, he was sick of it. He was fed up with you pining for his attention constantly-

He had known for sometime how you felt about him. The way your skirt got hiked up a few inches as soon as he entered through the door, or how you would ‘accidentally’ drop things right in front of him, flashing your ass as you bent down to retrieve them. Your brother, Sam, was oblivious to it all. You were his innocent little sister and nothing could change his perception of you. But Eddie knew… he knew how much you wanted him.

It was Halloween night and Sam and Eddie had planned to go TP a few houses, maybe launch a few eggs as well whilst they were at it and like always Eddie was the designated driver. Not because Sam was drinking alcohol but because he still hadn’t got his license. The lazy piece of shit, Eddie thought to himself as he rapped a few hard knocks on your family home’s front door, not expecting to see you answer it.

You roll your eyes at the sight of Eddie, full of a stinking attitude, “Sam isn’t here.” Your hip has popped to one side and Eddie’s jaw clenches with withered patience.

“Where is he?” His voice is clipped, like he doesn’t even want to talk to you.

“Dunno.” You shrug, blowing a small bubble with the bubblegum you’re chewing in your mouth.

“When will he be back?” Eddie shoves his hands into his jean pockets, rocking back and forward on his heels slightly.

“Like I said- I. don’t. Know.” A tight lipped smile stretches Eddie’s face in an almost sinister way.

“Can I at least come in and wait? Surely you don’t hate me that much?” He was toying with you, knowing fine well how much you lusted for him. He had read your cute little diary a few weeks back, the one decorated with rhinestones and feathers… although, its appearance on the outside paled in comparison to the fucking filth written on the inside. The pages were filled with your dirty fantasies and the common denominator between them all?

They were all about Eddie.

It was always him lapping between your legs with his soaking wet tongue, stroking your pussy and making you scream. It was his lips pinching the skin of your neck, leaving marks all over your soft flesh. It was Eddie’s fingers that would bruise your ass with his hard spankings…

And as much as he hated to admit it, the thought of it all turned him on. His cock rock hard in his jeans as he flicked through the pages, only to have to shove it back beneath your bed seconds later.

“Ugh, fine.” You step to the side, allowing the long haired man to slither inside. Eddie had a plastic bag with him, filled with the supplies for the night ahead and you snatch it from him to look inside.

“Hey!” His voice is a rough bark as it leaves his lips, “Give it back!” You only manage to steal a glimpse inside before he is tearing it from your hands, ripping the bag in the process. Eddie lets out an agitated groan, “Fucking great, look what you did!” He waves the bag in front of your face, “Do you seriously have to be such a fucking brat all the time? Pathetic!” His words are laced with venom as he spits them at you- and you should be upset by his words and the way he is reacting but really… it turns you on.

“Why do you have a ‘Scream’ mask?” You bat your eyelashes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to rile him up a bit more, “If anything is pathetic, it’s that. You call that a costume?” You spin on your heels, giggling as you do and you head to the living room to grab some things that you were about to take upstairs before he interrupted you.

“It’s a ghostface mask, the movie is called Scream..” he follows flush behind you, “And it’s not pathetic.” He rakes his ring clad fingers through his hair, clearly you have already managed to stress him out and he has only been here five minutes.

“What are you dressing up as?” He collapses down onto the sofa, “Let me guess-“ he taps his finger on his lips pensively, his eyes drinking in your figure, “You’re gonna be a slutty… something. Am I right?” He grins and you frown over at him.

“I’m not dressing up, you asshole.” Your fingers hook around the handles of your laundry basket, ready to lift it up to your bedroom, “Maybe you should go as a massive dick- because that’s what you are, Munson. A big fat fucking dick!” As soon as the words leave your mouth your chest clenches with heavy regret. You weren’t scared before, but with the look on Eddie’s face, you’re terrified now.

Eddie’s usually puppy soft brown eyes cloud with what you can only assume is rage. You have pushed him to the edge- no, you have pushed him right fucking off of it. He’s done playing these games with you. He’ll make you regret ever wanting him in the first place.

“Don’t look so afraid now, Dollface.” His steps toward you are calculated and his heavy boots pound on the carpeted floor with intention, “You want some help with that?” He nods toward the basket in your arms and you shake your head silently. This basket is the only thing separating you from him and you’ll grip onto it for the rest of your life if it meant Eddie couldn’t get any closer to you.

“Give me it.” He demands, his voice is grumbly as he pries the laundry from your shaking fingers, “Your bedroom, right? That’s where you were taking these?” You nod, not saying another word. Eddie’s demeanour seems as cool as ice but you can see the war waging behind his eyes. He is fucking pissed-

“Words.” He bites, “They exist for a reason y’know.”

“Yes. My room.” You hate the way your voice sounds as it leaves your throat. You wish you could take it back, all of it- all of the times you pressed his buttons, teased him, insulted him. But it’s too late now. What’s done is done,

Eddie gestures an arm out toward the staircase, “Ladies first.” He insists with a forced smile and you suddenly feel an urge to apologise to him for the tiny little shorts you are wearing that are barely covering your ass- hell, some people would consider them underwear.

“Eddie-“ you try to reason with him but immediately you swallow the words after seeing his face contort in a way you don’t want to test. So, you take to the stairs. Your steps are slow as you lift one foot after another, not daring to look back at Eddie who is right behind you on the way up.

The top of the staircase approaches like one lead to the noose and you can hear a voice in your head screaming at you to run away, to fight against him, to protest this- but you don’t. You stay quiet, because deep down… you want this. And you have wanted this for years.

Both of you walk through your bedroom door and you stand as far from him as you can as Eddie dumps your laundry basket down onto the floor, leaving it in a far off corner, “Thank you.” You squeak with a sweet smile, but Eddie doesn’t leave. In fact, he closes your bedroom door and clicks the lock shut. Leaving the both of you alone.

“Get on the bed.” His voice is almost unrecognisable and you would have listened to him if you weren’t frozen stiff to the spot where you stood. It’s as if your feet have been bolted to the floor. Your arms that were crossed over your chest come to fall limply at your sides with shock, “What, do you need help with that too?” Eddie clicks his tongue in distaste, marching over to you he grabs your arms so tightly that you know there will be bruises there tomorrow and he throws you onto the bed so hard that you nearly go flying over it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream, repositioning yourself on the bed to glare at him, but instead of glaring back, he smiles.

“There she is- I wondered where that little smart mouth of yours went.” His large hands find his hair and he pulls it from his shoulders and up into a messy bun, “I was almost starting to feel bad for you- you were so close to avoiding all of this.” You were confused for the most part- what was he going to do to you? Beat you? Eddie would never hurt you, you know that. But why would he lock you away?

“Avoid what? Eddie, I’m sorry-“ Your pleas are cut short by a yelp as Eddie grabs your bare ankles, pulling you savagely to the edge of the bed and restraining your legs in the air.

“No you’re not. You never are.” You had dreamed of this so many times, Eddie Munson in your bedroom, his hands all over your skin… but this seemed to be going in a different direction. One you weren’t sure of.

“Please,” You can feel your eyes becoming a bit teary and Eddie laughs at you manically. Of course you want nothing more than for him to fuck you, but the way he is acting is so out of character… it’s frightening.

“Scared?” He pouts out his bottom lip mockingly, “Aww, the baby is gonna cry- are you crying?” He laughs harder and you decide enough is enough. You attempt to swing your legs off of the bed to stand up but Eddie has other plans. He grabs your frame, taking your wrists into his hands he pins you to the mattress. His waist is slotted between your thighs and the blush that grows on your cheeks is feverish.

“I thought you wanted this…” His appearance softens as his lips come to the shell of your ear, nibbling on the soft flesh, “You’re gonna take my cock and you’re gonna fucking like it.” You can feel him grinning against the nape of your neck before he sucks on the skin, his tongue flicking and soothing the bruises that he’s making. It’s almost like he had read your diary…

Despite the ache pulsing beneath your panties you can’t allow this to happen, Sam would be distraught. It would ruin your siblinghood and Eddie and his friendship. It’ll be a shit show!

“No,” You whisper, fighting the urge to moan as Eddie sucks on a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed.. but he doesn’t stop and you head is becoming hazy with lust, “Eddie, no…” you buck your hips up against his in protest, trying to free yourself from beneath him but he presses his hardened bulge against you tighter, his weight dominating you. You’re trapped.

He grinds his hips into you and you accidentally allow a moan to slip through, it’s faint and dripping with sugar and it sends Eddie’s primal instincts fucking wild. He wants to hear it again but he also needs to find a way to take total control of you.

Eddie starts at your neck, kissing down between the valley of your breasts to your torso he lands at your hips. He momentarily lets go of your wrists so his large thumbs can massage your hip bones and he expects you to try to flee from the bed but you don’t. Or so he thought. You lunge up from the bed and scamper for the door, but unfortunately for you Eddie is fast and before you are able to reach the door his arms are hooked around your waist, carrying you back to the bed. You try screaming, but you know that no one is home… no one’s going to hear you and no one is coming to save you.

This time, Eddie’s impatience is at its peak. He pushes you onto your knees, the bones crashing onto the floor and he forces you face down onto the mattress. Grabbing your arms he secures both of your hands behind your back with a pair of pantyhose from your laundry pile, knotting them tight around your wrists and ignoring your sobs of complaint.

“Stop it!!” You try to stand up but Eddie helps you, only to then shove you back onto your bed. Your sheets were perfectly crease-free this morning when you left your room, now your duvet is a total mess and some of your pillows are on the floor.

“Shut the fuck up!!” Eddie grabs your cheeks, his voice is an animalistic growl as he slams your head back into a pile of pillows. Your bottom lip quiver but your body is betraying your mind- your panties are soaked. Drenched in slick from your core, “I won’t hesitate to gag you, do you understand?” He is between your thighs again and all you can muster is a weak nod, tears still streaking down your face.

“See? You can be a good girl.” A smugness pulls his lips up into a smirk and you readjust yourself to get comfortable, trying to not allow your arms to go to sleep.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to undress himself and his mind is reeling at the sight of you quivering and crying on your bed. He has wanted nothing more than to punish you for your behaviour for months- and now he is… and you can’t stop him. He rips your shorts down your legs and to he is pleasantly surprised to see that he accidentally pulled your panties off with them, “Whoops.” He tosses them behind him and they land somewhere in the room, “I’ll save those for later…”

You feel overly exposed to him and you try to clamp your thighs together to shield yourself but Eddie isn’t having any of it, “Fucking behave!” He warns, his hand finding your throat as he squeezes it at each side- your mind becomes hazy and your vision nearly totally blacks out.

When he lets go you are fighting for a breath, but no I’m a bad way. You’re more panting than gasping and soon those pants are replaced by moans as you suddenly feel Eddie’s face between your legs. His tongue is licking slow tedious strips up your dripping wet slit and his lips latch onto your swollen clit, sucking it relentlessly, “Taste so good,” He groans, his eyes hooded with hunger and desire, “Pussy is mine. Only fucking mine” His voice vibrates against your folds and your head tilts back against the pillows, your back arching off of the mattress as you resist the urge to grind your pussy on his tongue. You’re not meant to be enjoying this, but your tears have stopped and your moans are getting louder and louder...

“All those tears and for what?” Eddie laughs, blowing some cool air onto your flooded core, sending tingles racing up your spine, “I knew you wanted this, you little fucking slut. Maybe you’ll think twice before wearing skimpy clothes around me, eh?” His eyes meet yours and you nearly cum at the sight. His mouth is glistening with your arousal and his eyes are swirling with hunger.

He latches himself back onto you, his tongue flicking furiously at your sensitive bundle of nerves and just as you are about to feel your release he pulls his, causing a penetrative whine to fill the air.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock- and I’m gonna fill your cute little pussy with my cum.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your thighs and you wince at the pain before nodding obediently.

“Words!” He slaps your inner thigh and you yelp.

“Y.. yes! Yes, Eddie!” You’re breathless, swollen, red and craving release and Eddie is drunk on it all. He has total control over you.. he can do as he fucking pleases with you and you can’t do a single thing about it.

His jeans are on the floor in seconds and his hard cock springs from his underwear, causing your eyes to widen. You called him a massive dick early- you just didn’t know that he had one. You couldn’t help the fear that filled your chest at the thought that this actually might hurt.

Jumping from the bed you watch as he walks over to where your laundry basket is, his fist pumping at his shaft as he does. He reached behind the basket, pulling out the Halloween mask from earlier and he slips it on.

“What is it you said about this earlier?” He taps the white plastic of the mask, his deep voice now muffled by the material, “That it was pathetic?” He hums in disappointment and you can tell that beneath that mask he is grinning like a mad man.

He slaps his cock against your core, laughing as you gasp at the sensitivity of it. Using your knees as leverage he holds your thighs wide open, teasing your entrance with the swollen tip of his shaft and when you hear him moan it sends your mind fleeting into the clouds. You must have died and went to heaven because this is what this felt like.

He sinks down, fully submerging every inch of himself deep inside of you and you whimper at the stretch. You fucking whimper and Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, “Fuck,” he seethes, “You’re so wet, Doll. So wet and tight and warm for me.” He groans and your bottom lip feels like it could be bleeding from how hard you are biting on it. You never thought you would see the day when Eddie Munson fucks you in a horror mask- but anything is possible if you’re bratty enough.

He bottoms out, watching through the dark eyeholes of the mask as he sinks back inside of you. He slow at first, making sure to drink in every pulse, every filthy wet noise- but then he’s speeding up. He doesn’t care that you’re screaming out from the change in rhythm he is starving- he wants to use you like you’re a doll and whatever Eddie wants, Eddie gets.

“Ahh!!” You cry out, your eyes pinching shut as Eddie’s shaft hits your special spot ,”Shit!” Your breathing hitches in your throat and your nails claw at the pantyhose around your wrists, desperate to grip onto something to steady yourself.

Eddie’s moans intensify, the sound of wet skin slapping against one another fills the air as Eddie grabs your throat again, desperately chasing his own release ,”Look at me!” He urges with haste and you do, your eyes reopening to settle on the ghostface cladding his features. You try your best, you really do and Eddie appreciates the way you fight to keep your pretty eyes open and on him as the oxygen is deprived to your brain but as you reach your high and Eddie spills inside of you.. you black out.

Completely unconscious and the only image you remember when you reawaken is that of the ghostface mask from Scream…

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas

[storiesoflilies]

of angels and curses

warnings - descriptions of a nasty fight. a poetic near death experience. also yes, sukuna is sorta here.

a/n - SURPRISE! more feels and things. is any of this real, or not? if anybody can guess what these interludes really are, i’ll be extremely impressed. comment, or send me a chat, and tell me your opinions. who knows, maybe one of you guys gets a prize for guessing right! ;) ko-fi.

next part - chapter 7

interlude (ii)

the earth was crumbing beneath her and the clouds of heaven were rolling away from her in swirls of white.

no, nothing was crumbling; it was snowing. she’d never felt the tiny wet droplets on her skin before or felt her feet sink beneath its soft powder. it felt like the sky was crying for her, and she wanted to cry along with it. dark grey clouds were coming in from the west, curdling around the setting sun like spoiled milk.

she knew this place. it was where he had first laid eyes on her.

that was when he decided to appear beside her, silver hair as dull as the clouds.

“this is the last time you’ll feel blue,” he said, but it was pained, his stitches writhed like snakes on his face.

she already knew that; she never should have left the glow of the city.

“if it wasn’t for you i’d still be free,” she snarled, and her heart flowed with his venom and her fear.

a fat tear rolled down his cheek, and his voice cracked as he replied, “but we could still have something wonderful, you know?”

what could possibly be wonderful about any of this? she couldn’t escape from this – from him. perhaps this was what her golden guardian had seen before he passed; an illusion of peace and beauty, only for his warmth to be snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

“let’s see how deep we can go then,” she said, daring him to bite.

he shook his head. “but i’ll take you too far. i’ll lose control.”

she didn’t care anymore. he had dropped and left her like she was already nothing. but she couldn’t think about him anymore. no, it was just her and her death now.

“you said it yourself, these are my last blues, and i want you to break it from me.”

he sighed like the final breath of winter, as snow clung to his lashes, and nodded. “you know i can’t say no to you.”

his hand flew to touch her cheek, and her eyes widened as she stared into the deep darkness of space. none of it made sense, but this was where he wanted to take them; the long way around it. but here they were, together as one in a world of his own making. he knew everything there was to know about her.

“there’s something inside you that you can’t control,” he hissed, as if realizing who she really was for the first time.

“i was never meant to live in a cage,” she spat, and her nails flew at his face, leaving long red gashes on his skin.

and they tumbled and stumbled in a universe of limbs, hands, and mouths. it was messy, full of spit and fire. but it was always meant to be this way because they were the last pieces of broken glass left in the pile.

“i swear, this will be the last time,” he swore, his thumbs pressed into the corners of her eyes like he wanted to squeeze her and make her head pop!

she laughed like a maniac. “no, it won’t. you have a filthy bad habit.”

she lunged at his stitches, pulling and tearing at them like string. he howled and pressed harder, causing her skin to erupt into ridges and valleys of peeling red. and yet, all she could do was cackle.

“you’ll keep on doing this, and you will burn whenever you’ve had your fun,” she vowed.

“what a time this is,” he said amidst their dance of raking and lashing. “i’ll think of this night often.”

her strength was fading. whatever resolve was crumbling into dust; he had at least kept his promise – she was no longer blue. instead, she was her very own pity party that she should walk away from.

no matter, his fingers were inside her throat and it was all over now.

“oh. oh, my. oh,” he chanted, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore.

she could see through his eyes, and he was watching the sea of limbs turn into an ocean of bones and teeth and blood. the smell of it was acrid, like sulphur and rot mixed, and it should have been vulgar.

but it wasn’t.

it was so fucking beautiful.

what a splendid place to die.

he looked up to see the king sitting atop a stairway of skeletons with his four arms spread like a spider. she looked up with her own fading eyes and only just noticed the sky was a never-ending twisting ribcage.

“i’ll allow you to touch my soul, just this once,” the king’s voice echoed like a supersonic wave.

“your soul?” he gaped, as if his whole world was unraveling around him.

the king ignored him, red eyes glowing as he threatened, “there won’t be a second time.”

he was absolutely crestfallen and went limp, slouching atop her. she shivered as the bones beneath them cracked sickeningly, and would have smirked as she felt not just her own fear within her now.

“know your place, fool,” the king all but growled.

and then, a blazing fire of red eyes and madness engulfed them. it was all she could see for a time, and time was never-ending.

“don’t make me wait forever,” she whispered to nobody, because she was now broken and ready to be swept away.

the flames ceased, and he wasn’t there anymore. it was just her and her king now, who was on top of her, caging her in all his arms like the ribs that stood above them. all of his eyes were drinking her in like wine, and she wanted him to devour her messily.

“oh, sweet darling. i was doing just fine without you,” the king sneered, snapping his teeth at her.

and she was suddenly afraid of her king’s wrath, as he gripped her chin and his tongue and teeth scraped against the dips and nooks of her broken face.

“you were supposed to exist without me,” the king snarled. “that’s why i cut you in the first place.”

“i’m sorry,” she sobbed, but for what exactly, she didn’t know.

his face fell into the crook of her neck and he inhaled deeply, grumbling, “shut up.”

she whimpered as the darkness was fading away, replaced by that red hue that was undeniably her king’s color. red was one side of his face, just like hers. but her king was cleansing her of the worms’ filth; even now, she could feel it dripping from her skin like black ink. she didn’t know how to thank her king – no gift would ever come close to what she was being given.

“forget this,” her king muttered, one of his hands gently running over the smoothed-out skin of her face.

and forget she did.

-•-

taglist: @kkhaosxx @better-imagination-9 @gabrielle2013 @angelheavensblog @cyberang3lic @justmarlen3 @pinknipszz @moonwingeys @luzzbuzz @hornabbyyy @mitsuyasblackwifey @chosolover736 @spookyjyestha @elisqq @sillyrings978 @littlekittensoftpaws93 @starryluv4 @99k4manii @maid4nanno @chososrealwife @iloveitwhentheyrunnn @kamoslut @rubyrose2014 @hannah5max @transparent-nature

[cthulhusstepmom]

Simon has been engaging in what he likes to call "exposure therapy"; in essence he'll go to Soap's room, usually when he's there, and stare at the snake until he feels his lips start to burn and twist. When he's feeling particularly brave he'll go sit on the bathroom floor and stare down the cobra, False cobra he reminds himself. That one is usually better, it's smaller and objectively otherworldly. It's hard to justify having a panic attack over a purple snake half as long as his arm. He's been getting better, the burning turns to a subtle itch to a barely noticeable twitch. It took five hours of sitting in cold tile to get even the slightest reaction last time, watching Hugo cruise around his enclosure while Johnny slept soundly in the other room. Hour six and he does something stupid.

He knows the falsie can't hurt him, no worse than a bee sting if he lets it chew him up, he read. He'd seen Soap handle him, seen the love in his eyes as he looked at him. He doesn't really realize he's done it until he hears the click of the glass door hitting home. And now Simon is frozen watching the snake come forward to investigate him, can feel the flicks of its tongue flicking over his gooseflesh. His lungs start burning, watching the snake flare out its neck hovering above his palm. His scales are wet from where he'd been swimming as he inches carefully onto Ghost's arm. The texture brings him back to the present, incredibly smooth and pleasantly warm to the touch from the warm water. Ghost shakes his head and looks down. Hugo is exploring his lap at a leisurely pace, poking his head into the folds of material in his sweats. Eventually he finds the stretched out pocket and in a flash he dives in and curls himself up as pleased as punch. After that, his exposure therapy takes a different turn and, with Soap's permission, he even takes Hugo to the break room in the dead of night to meet the goldfish (safely on the outside of the glass of course).

One day Soap approaches him with a pleased hop in his step and announces that he found someone for Hugo. Ghost isn't upset. He's not. He knows how Johnny's operation works, Hugo was never going to be a permanent resident...but it just feels so soon.

Soap gives him the details and a week later they've set a meeting in the parking lot of the local Tesco's. Hugo is leisurely curling through Ghost's fingers, distracting him from the exposed feeling of just a black medical mask, as Johnny watches with a small smile on his face that's slowly disappearing as the time crawls past fifteen minutes late. At half an hour late a loud car peels into the lot with a screech, making a beeline toward their borrowed pickup and pulling to a stop far far too close to Johnny for Simon's comfort.

The kid that gets out of the car is tall and lanky with dusty blond hair that's seen more gel than shampoo in the past several weeks. He's young, younger than Simon had expected and from the contemplative frown on Johnny's face younger than he expected too. He's early twenties, 24 at the oldest. He also reeks of cigarette smoke, not that Ghost himself is the perfect role model for lung health but he's not chain-smoked like that since he was a teenager with something to prove.

"Ay sup bruv! Sorry I'm late traffic's a fucking bitch." The kid claps a hand on Soap's back. "Where is it?" Soap is opening his mouth to answer but he's cut off by the next outburst. "Fuck mate you're holding it? That's fucking ballsy, mad respect! Big lad like you, probably take a while before it offed you though yeah?"

The urge to put a bullet through this cocky little wankstain is a loud chant in the back of his mind.

"Not worse than a bee sting." He growls under his breath.

"S' a Cobra innit?" The kid snarks.

"False Water Cobra." Soap corrects and Ghost can hear the click of his teeth as he spits out the words.

"...still venomous though right? Your post said it was venomous."

A pregnant pause fills the air as Soap and Ghost make eye contact. Silent communication flies between them, a language learned in a landscape of fire and death. The slightest twitch, a shallow nod.

"We're done here." Ghost snarls as let's Hugo slither into his pocket, crossing his arms.

"Oi! I dunno what you think you're doing freakshow but I'm not leaving without my fucking snake." The kid reaches ominously into his pocket.

The little shit makes it a single step forward before a heavy hand clamps down on his trapezius.

"Ah dinnae think yeh understand. We're done, aye?"

Ghost feels a grin twitching on his lips as he watches pain twist up the youth's pointed features, watching Soap twist him around and shove him into his car with little more complaint than a pained yelp.

When they're back on base Ghost lets out a small breath of relief when Hugo is safely returned to his palaudarium.

Laying with Johnny curled up on his chest later that night he feels more than he hears a small laugh.

"Yer attached to him now."

He heaves a great long-suffering sigh.

"Less of a brat than you are, made it easy."

His Johnny laughs loud and clear and if his brain is turning with plans of rearranging his room and researching plants then that's between him and god...for now.

[writtentodeath]

Breaking into Villain’s warehouse certainly wasn’t easy, but Hero prided themself on getting things done. Villain was out, taking care of a gang apparently encroaching on the territory considered ‘theirs’, and Hero needed to know what Villain’s base of operations looked like. Needed to know what was going on inside, because anyone they found who might know anything was as hard to pry open as that plastic cup that Hero had accidentally wedged inside another cup the week before. 

They didn’t have time to focus on inconsequential side gigs- people were disappearing, and then reappearing weeks later, fished out of the river, their bodies ripped and torn and sewn and dissected. Hero needed to know who was taking them, where they were going, how they were being taken, and why. They were pretty certain they could answer the first question. 

That’s what tonight was for. 

Hero dropped to the ground, dead silent. The guards had passed on their rounds a full minute before, leaving Hero a cool fifteen minutes to get from their initial opening deeper into the building. 

It wasn’t smart to go in so blindly. They knew that. They also knew how many people were disappearing on average- two a week- and knew that if it was Villain, there wouldn’t be any floor plans to speak of for the building. There was nothing. 

At least they were able to search the whole hallway before getting caught. 

One hand was on a doorknob to slide into the next room, the other on their throwing knives in case they were about to interrupt something, when someone behind them chuckled. 

“Would you like a tour?” Villain asked. “I’m happy to give you one. I’ve been looking for a second pair of eyes.”  They were standing in the darkened hallway behind Hero, leaning on the wall in a way that should have looked careless but came off as calculating. It was the same with their tone- flippant words that somehow felt ill-fitted to the person saying them. 

“You’re the one who’s been running around the city asking about me,” Villain said. “If you wanted to know something, you should have asked.” 

“You’re the one who’s been kidnapping all those people,” Hero shot back. They tried to spit the words, but the venom died on their tongue. 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Villain said. They smiled, then, and Hero’s chest filled up with warmth. They smiled back. “Would you like to see them?” 

Hero nodded, stepping forwards. They slipped their knife back into their pocket. They didn’t need it. 

That wasn’t right. 

Hero stopped. Blinked. What were they thinking?  

“Stop it,” they said out loud.” 

Villain turned, an eyebrow raised. They smiled again, sharp teeth flashing, and Hero’s chest remained resolutely cold. Good. 

“You’re right. That was unfair of me.” 

The rumors were right. Very little was known for certain about Villain- how long they had been in town, how far their plans extended, what their ultimate goals were- but there were rumors that they could control thoughts. 

“You can control minds,” Hero stated. 

“No,” Villain said. “I control everything.” 

“Really. Can you control someone’s will?” 

“All a will is is someone’s ability to control their emotions, their urges, their body’s responses. I control bodies. Every chemical you release, every signal your nerves sense. I control your will.” They leaned in. “Want me to make you beg?”

They were going to have to try a lot harder if they wanted a reaction out of Hero. “You seem awfully fine with me breaking into your base,” they observed. 

“Even the best of us still want someone to witness,” Villain said, leaning back. “And you’re better than the others. Your fear is different.” 

“Vigilantism has its perks.” 

Villain chuckled at that. “Before we go down,” they said, “you have a higher threshold for fear than others, but even you aren’t immune.” Their eyes flicked over Hero’s body, clinical, fascinated. “So I’m going to give you a gift.” 

“You don’t-” 

“Shh,” Villain said, and Hero shut their mouth. “There’s an old bible story,” they began, “where God tells Pharaoh to free his slaves ‘or else’. Are you familiar?” 

“Of course you were raised catholic,” Hero said before they could stop themself. 

Villain ignored them. “The ten plagues. Famine, death, rivers of blood. But you see, there’s a very interesting part where God hardens Pharaoh’s heart, so that Pharaoh continues to refuse him. Do you know why?” They paused, as though waiting for an answer. 

“I must have missed that day.” 

“Fear makes us do things we wouldn’t normally do. There is no choice when we’re afraid, we’ll do anything to get rid of it. When faced with the wrath of God, there is no real decision- unless, of course, you do not fear.” 

Villain tilted their head ever so slightly, eyes fixed on Hero. “I don’t want you to react out of fear. I want everything you do to be yours.” 

“So, what?” Hero scoffed. “You’re god?” 

“Haven’t I made my own creations?” 

The bodies in the river.

“You didn’t make anything,” Hero spat. “And I don’t appreciate anyone controlling my brain.” 

Villain shrugged, a half shouldered thing that felt entirely out of place on them. “That’s unavoidable. Something’s going to, and you should be happy I’m keeping the fear out of your brain rather than, say, taking some of those nerve clusters and squeezing.” 

The threat felt empty. No, that wasn’t it. Hero knew Villain had that ability, and that they could kill them, but the usual trickle of ice that usually accompanied true threats simply didn’t appear. Hero couldn’t find it within themselves to tense up for a fight. 

“Fear can be useful,” Hero said. “Prepares you to do what needs to be done.” 

“Useful? Really?” Villain said. “You would trust your body not to betray you.” 

“Yeah, I think I’d trust my body with itself more than I’d trust you.” Hero crossed their arms. 

Something glinted in Villain’s eye, and they turned. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” they said, and began walking deeper into the complex. 

Hero stared. Villain had turned their back on them. Was walking away, even. Hero wasn’t restrained, wasn’t even disarmed, they were just… loose. And Villain just turned their back to them. 

They went for their knives. The moment they touched the blades, pain lanced up their arm. 

Down the hallway, Villain sighed, turning to walk back. Their right hand was outstretched, palm up. “I suppose we can do it now.”

Hero didn’t move.

“I’m holding onto your secondary nervous system,” Villain said, voice light, like they were having afternoon tea. “Pulling out your freeze response. Feel that?” 

Hero stood, staring, heart hammering, air frozen in their lungs. The muscles in their neck started to tense and untense, trying to pull in air.

“You don’t feel fear like this often,” Villain said. “It’s what makes you so much better.” They flicked their fingers. 

Air rushed back in, and Hero took a step back. “I’m- that can’t possibly be the reason I’m better. I feel fear. Other people stay calm- that can’t possibly be the reason.” 

“Other people don’t consistently face off against people like me.” 

“You admit there are other people like you?” Hero said, more to distract Villain for a moment and regain their composure than anything.

Villain laughed. “I’m not the only one with my power.” 

Hero felt the urge to stiffen- but it passed. “Others?” 

“There’s no need for you to worry. If there are a thousand like me, then maybe ten are even aware they have powers- and of those, only I possess my refinement. It’s an art, you know. Teasing out responses- pulling on one chemical, pushing on another. It takes time to figure out. First poor souls I worked on-” Villain spared a glance to the side, remembering- “well, as it happens, too much of one chemical flooding your brain can trigger some unfortunate side effects. But that was years ago.” 

Morbid fascination made Hero want to know exactly what happened and how, but they pushed that to the side. “How would someone not realize they could- control people? Control bodies?”  

“At very low levels, it might simply be unconsciously done. They might be an exceptionally good doctor, or maybe assume they are just very persuasive. It’s easy to be charming when everyone gets a dopamine hit just by seeing you.” 

They were directly in front of Hero now. “Your freeze response is a bit boring, no? Let’s try another.” 

Hero grit their teeth. They needed to stop Villain- they needed Villain happy with them. Villain was angry, angry enough to hurt Hero, and Hero could- Hero could ask, they should ask, they should plead, they should- not ask forgiveness, not that, they shouldn’t ask for anything, but they could ask what they could do to help, they should apologize for breaking in, Villain, they should get on their knees right now and beg- 

A shudder shook through them. 

“Come on now,” Villain said. Their foot tapped on the ground, arms crossed, shoulders tight, jaw set- 

“Sorry,” Hero said, the word bursting out. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. “I-” They clamped their lips shut. 

Blood in the water. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Villain- please, I- I’m sorry, please please, I didn’t mean- I can do anything, I’ll do anything, I swear, I’m so sorry, please-” Hero’s eyes pricked with tears. 

And then they didn’t. Hero blinked, still breathing hard. They studied Villain, suddenly uncaring about their stance or the slight curve at the edge of their mouth, but didn’t say anything. They didn’t know what would come out if they opened their mouth. 

“You still think fear is a good thing?” Villain teased. 

Hero wasn’t one to admit defeat. They needed more information on Villain, and Villain was… 

They followed Villain deeper into the compound.

[clotpolesonly]

Lean On Me

for @foofsterroonie and the Stiles Shipping Central discord's monthly exchange, the theme for which was Alpha April!! opted for an OT3 option this time, which i don't think i've done before in this event for some reason 😂 | Stiles/Scott/Kira | Gen | 1k | Established Relationship | Alpha Scott | Stiles Gets The Bite | (also on AO3)

.

Stiles stared at the teeth marks in his forearms. Every puncture was distinct. A dentist would kill for this bite print. His dad could probably solve a murder with it—not that Scott had committed any murders, so that probably wasn’t relevant. It also hurt like a bitch, but hey, anything with this much blood and flesh-rending was bound to, right?

The venom hurt too. Its exact composition was a mystery, but Deaton’s alarm when they had dragged Stiles into the clinic and described the creature that had clawed him up had been all the information they’d needed. Whatever it was, it was bad, and even their local guru didn’t have anything to offer them. 

A soft hand on Stiles’ shoulder dragged his eyes away from their hail mary. Kira hosted herself up on the metal exam table beside him, close enough to swap her hand out for her chin and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Scott will be back in a minute,” she said. "Once he gets Liam’s broken arm sorted out.”

Once he got himself sorted out, Stiles filled in. The look on Scott’s face when he realized that giving Stiles the bite was their best option had not escaped him; they had both known it wasn’t what Stiles wanted. Scott had known that for years, and he had always been wholly in favor of Stiles making the choice for himself.

And, Stiles would argue, he had. The circumstances were not fantastic, and there was definitely an element of coercion in play, but it was not Scott’s coercion. Stiles didn’t want to die, and therefore, he had made the choice to get the bite for himself, but Scott’s guilt had been palpable before the blood was even on his teeth. It was probably for the best that he had let himself be drawn away to tend to his injured beta because otherwise he might have cried on the spot, and that would’ve been awkward while they sat around waiting to see if Stiles survived.

“He can take his time,” Stiles told Kira with faux nonchalance. “I haven’t died yet. If I was gonna reject the bite, I would’ve died by now, right? Spewed black goo all over the place and keeled over? That’s usually a pretty quick process, if memory serv—”

“Maybe try not thinking about death," Kira suggested. "Think living thoughts!”

“Mind over matter?” Stiles said wryly. “Think that works?”

Kira snorted. “God, I hope not. My mind is not a best-case-scenario kind of place. I don’t want to see what it would manifest if given the power.”

Stiles’ laugh was interrupted by a grunt of pain. He pressed his good arm against the bandages around his middle, still contaminated with fucking acid spit or whatever the fuck that thing had secreted into his abdomen. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the muscle-deep wolf bite or the burning gashes in his stomach. They both fucking sucked.

Kira took his hand gently, carefully not to jostle him and make it worse. “I wish I had the pain drain mojo,” she said with a grimace that made Stiles smile in spite of everything; it was the only thing their resident kitsune envied about the werewolves. “Is it better or worse than before?”

“Hard to tell. You hurt in enough places at once and it all kind of blends together.”

The door flew open before Kira could do more than squeeze his hand in sympathy. Scott was at Stiles’ side in an instant, hands flitting around like he couldn’t decide what he needed to examine first. He had rinsed the blood out of his mouth at some point in the last eight minutes. His eyes, while red-rimmed, were dry.

“Stiles,” he said, a world of care, relief, and worry in that one word alone. “How are you feeling? Has there been any— I mean, is the bite— The venom, is it—”

Stiles pulled his hand from Kira’s to take Scott’s instead. “Deep breath, Scottie. I’m doing fine. So far, at least.”

“No black goo?”

“No goo of any colors,” Kira assured him. 

Scott visibly deflated as the tension left him. The hand in Stiles’ turned to lace their fingers together properly and, with a softly released breath, he let his veins flood black.

Stiles groaned as the burning and the throbbing and the multitude of other pains leached out of him. “Oh, that’s so good, I could kiss you.”

Even with Stiles’ pain in his own veins, Scott smiled. “There’s literally nothing stopping you from doing that,” he reminded him.

Except for Kira’s head still on his shoulder, dislodged when he leaned forward. She pouted about it, but she perked right up when offered a kiss from both of them in apology. Then she shuffled down the table, tugging Stiles gently along with her to make room for Scott to join them. It was a bit of a tight fit for three teenagers, but they didn’t mind.

Stiles, now with his boyfriend on one side and his girlfriend on the other, flexed his hand, watching the muscles of his masticated forearm shift with morbid fascination. “Is it my imagination or does the bite look, like, older than it did before?”

Kira leaned close to examine it, unperturbed by the blood in a way that Stiles still had yet to achieve, at least when the blood was his own. “It definitely does. Does it hurt less?”

“Dude,  I just got pain-drained, I can’t tell.” He turned to Scott. “If this works, you gotta teach me how to do that, first thing.”

Scott put an arm around him, pulled him closed, and pressed a kiss to his temple. “When this works,” he said, “I’m gonna teach you everything.”

That sounded wonderful. Stiles melted into the embrace; the activity and stress of the day was catching up with him. With Scott’s arms around him from one side and Kira’s warmth settled against the other, he let his eyes slip closed.

“Can’t wait.”

[sugarcherriess]

I am just dropping in and then saw your event 👀 so I'm thinking tsundere adonis and relentless fool in love hyunjae and the first time tsundere adonis tells him you love him and his reaction 🥺 - 🥛

😡😡😡😡 i made it not soft at all as retaliation because a confession would NEVER go down well between us

Relentless Fool In Love!Hyunjae x Tsundere!Adonis:

cw - smut, very specifically catered to me, please do not proceed, i slap a bitch, yes its in third person, cameos by milk and pup, an ongoing breeding thing, cnc? I don’t know what to call it bc we all know i consent to fucking him more than anything else

The story revolves around a very stupid boy Hyunjae who keeps bothering an orb of spite and hatred named Adonis

He tries his best to make their life a living hell

By acting hot asf but also adorable like how does that WORK?

And being generally the perfect fit for them

And wearing shit that makes Adonis’ blood boil

Because Adonis is just as stupid but their pride is the size of mount everest

But then so is their possessiveness

Anyway thats not the point of this story

Or is it?

Hyunjae has two main minions (affectionate): milk and pup

Milk and pup help Hyunjae’s loser ass try to score Adonis every chance they get

If they don’t get a chance

They make it

Their techniques include:

Texting Adonis about how large Hyunjae’s shoulders are?

Telling Adonis how Hyunjae is the best person to raise a family with

Also finding out personal preferences from big mouth Adonis and snitching to Hyunjae

So Hyunjae can use them against Adonis

“Why the fuck are you going around telling people you’re gonna start a family with me?!”

They slam his dorm room door and burst in uninvited

“Because I am,”

His annoying smile spread on his annoying loser face

“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be associated with you around campus?”

Adonis yells in his face

“Thought that was a kink of yours?”

His eyebrow raises in interest

“What?” Adonis asks incredulously, “How could you possibly think that?”

“You’re so easy to read, bunny,”

Adonis is flabbergasted

“Who the fuck said you could call me bunny?”

His smug ass sends a stupid loser smile Adonis’ way

“I have my sources,”

“I will destroy your sources,”

He gasps, scandalised

“You will do no such thing,”

“Watch me,” Adonis spits venomously

“My lovely sources will mention you carrying my babies slightly and you’ll crumble, don’t act so big and bad–“

Adonis shoves him against a wall before he can finish the sentence

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“Hmmm,” he puts a finger on his chin and pretends to think, “No!”

“I swear to god, I’ll fix your head on a spear and hang it off the college roof,”

He bends his face to look Adonis in the eye

“So intimate,”

Adonis tells him to shut up again

But ofcourse

He doesn’t

“Admit it. You’re in love with me,”

He fold his arms and leans against the wall

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

“C’mon bunny, I know you wanna be mine. Why do you play so hard to get?”

Adonis would roll their eyes hard enough to risk dislocating them from their socket

“Is that one of the fantasies you use to fuck your hand at night?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “I mostly think about your mouth on the other end getting stuffed by my cock–“

His face whips to the side from the sheer force of Adonis’ slap and his tooth accidentally cuts his mouth

“You disgusting piece of shit,”

Hyunjae laughs as a bit of blood drips from his lip

“I was told you’re into blood too… nature’s giving you a perfect chance to kiss me,”

Adonis slams his shoulders against the wall again

“I would rather take a shot of snake venom neat and die,”

“Aren’t you full of heat,” Hyunjae giggles mockingly, “We’re perfect for each other,”

“I wouldn’t choose to spend five minutes with you let alone an indefinite eternity,” Adonis scoffs,

Adonis would be all smug and continue

“Besides, I already have my eyes set for Juyeon. I believe his star athlete genes would be perfect for my children,”

Hyunjae’s eyes darken then

He grabs Adonis’ arm and quickly spins them around so their back is to his chest

And their arm is bent in a way that they can’t move without breaking it

“Let me go you fucking freak,”

“Don’t you know how much I love you? Why do you always bring up Juyeon?”

“I said let me go,”

“Never. It pains me to leave your side. You know what I have to do because you won’t let me be with you? I sneak up to your dorms every night and watch you sleep,” He seethes in their ear

Adonis futilely tries to escape his hold

“You know something? Even unconscious, you beg for me. Wanna tell me what that’s all about?”

Adonis whines when he bends their arm more to get a reaction

“You sound exactly like that, begging for me over and over again. Do you dream of my cock? Is it me stuffing your womb full every night?”

Hyunjae wraps his free hand around Adonis’ neck when they begin to shake their head, cutting off their blood supply and making them lightheaded

“It could be your reality if you’d just be a good bunny for once and eat your useless pride,”

“S-stop calling me bunny,”

They’re almost on the verge of passing out

“Why? Does it make your fertile little uterus pulse? Does your pussy widen on its own to welcome my cock? Does your body’s reaction to such a simple term embarrass my baby?”

Adonis’ head falls in shame because it’s true and it’s fucking stupid

He bites their neck hard enough to make them scream

Hyunjae’s hands sneak down to cup their crotch

“I can already feel you drenching your panties. A little birdie named pup told me they’re always pink. Shall I investigate the claim?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before bending them more and ripping away their tights

“So it IS true! So cute!” He coos, infuriating Adonis even more

His hands would be all over their pelvis and thighs

His stupid beautiful hands that caress everything like its made of satin in its most beautiful form

“Touch me and I’ll scream,”

“That’s what I plan to do,” he would reply in a single breath

And continue shredding the unfortunate piece of white tights that showed the bright pink panties underneath anyway

But he just loves being extra doesn’t he

He would push his annoying face into places it should never be in: Adonis’ covered cooch

“Hyunjae get off!”

But he’d just ignore all of their pleads in true Hyunjae fashion and continue onwards

He’d take his time and efforts lapping at their folds through the fabric

He wants Adonis to feel truly filthy

Like he knows they are

Hyunjae would push his tongue into the crevices of their lower half that make way for his appendage like sired vampires

But body parts

His evil ass would stiffen his tongue and play with their clit through their underwear because ofc he knows it’s sensitive 👍🏼

When he’s done being a little bitch with his mouth he’d suck on his fingers and shove them inside the only cavern within his vision

Already braindead Adonis would only be able to cry at the intrusion of his fingers inside them without prep

“I find it personally offensive if any part of you is left unfilled by me,”

“Hyunjae–”

“I know you want this,” he’d push Adonis into the wall so they’re completely suffocated by him, “You can’t bullshit me darling, I know you better than you know yourself,”

“Jaehyun oh my god–“

The pace of his fingers would be brutal leaving Adonis panting and twitching

Their sad little orgasm would be ripped out by his stupid fingers from the deepest pits of hell

“I’m gonna–“

They wouldn’t be able to finish their sentences without shrieking

“Tell me what I wanna hear. I won’t hold your orgasm hostage just stop running from me,”

Adonis may as well be sobbing

“Wha-t… what–ah, what do you want me to s-say?!”

“Tell me you love me. I know you do,”

“Jaehyun,” they’d whine losing their sense of self

“Say it!”

Hyunjae would bark, his patience tested to the max

“I– I can’t,”

Hyunjae would smush his face in their neck, exceeding his speed

“Won’t you be my good little bunny and tell me you love me?”

Milk i hate you for doing this to me

“I do! I love you– oh my god– Iwantyousobad,”

Adonis would cum right then

Both left panting from exhaustion and disbelief

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?”

“Jaehyunie~”

Yeah Adonis is. They’ve lost it

“What? What does my bunny want?”

“Wan’ your c-cock,”

“My cock? Why do you want it?”

He’d know but being an asshole is a way of life he can not refuse

“Want it to breed me…”

Adonis would probably be incomprehensible at this point

His loud annoying laugh would ring in the entire room

“Where's your bite now huh? Your snarkiness? Where did it go? Did my hand fuck you that dumb that you don’t even remember your pride?”

Adonis would start crying at being teased at such a vulnerable state

And push him away to leave the room

“I k-knew you only wanted to humiliate me! I. I hate you!”

He’d grab their arm and pull them back

Wiping their tears away and cooing at them again

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, bunny. I just thought I should rub my victory in since you’ve been depriving me from it for so long,” he’d raise an eyebrow bc well. It’s a logical response.

Adonis would still be pouty and upset

But it’s okay

They’d end up with loads of kisses on their wet teary face

“Maybe if you confess again, I’ll breed you the way both of us want?”

“Why? Won’t I get it otherwise?”

“You will but I also need proof of my victory to send to milk and pup,”

“Excuse me??”

“Now,” he’d push the recording button on his phone, “What was it you were babbling to me while I was making your toes curl and legs close with pleasure?”

Goodnight!

[mendeshoney]

not all monsters do monstrous things

Summary: Freya, an Asgardian goddess, long time friend, and formerly betrothed to Thor, is kidnapped from under the Avengers’ noses in the dead of night by a man who is not who he says he is, a man she thought lost from her.

A/N: This is a work of fiction that includes the author's interpretations and takes creative liberties in regards to Norse mythology, the events in the MCU and its streaming/TV series counterparts. It is not meant to disregard the canonical events within the MCU and its streaming/TV series counterparts.

Link to the story on AO3.

~

“Steve,” Freya pleads quietly, following his hurried footsteps as he storms away. “I didn’t-”

“Enough!” Steve roars, tossing his hands to the side and sending his fist flying into the wall of the kitchen.

The silence is immediate - the clatter of plates in the kitchen ringing louder than the erratic beating of Freya’s heart.

She’s made a mistake - another mistake, she knows - and she only has herself to blame.

“You can’t stop fucking up, can you?”

Steve’s words cut like knives. She thought of all people, given his history, that he would understand Freya, that he would understand her reasons, that he would understand all of it. 

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

“Steve,” Wanda tries gently, “You know that she-”

“I said enough! I’m sick of hearing it.” He spits venomously when he rounds on Freya. “I’m sick of it, and I don’t believe you. You can’t be sorry when you know what you did, when you did it on purpose, after we specifically told you not to.”

“Steve, she-”

“Stay out of this Buck!” He roars, and Bucky backs down, hands up in defense, sitting next to Sam.

“Have care with how you speak,” Thor implores, deep voice barely cutting through the thick tension. “We may be angry with her, but yelling solves nothing.”

We? Freya thinks, heart sinking to her feet. They’re all angry with me? They all think I did it on purpose?

Her sad eyes find Thor then, the harsh lines around his eyes, mouth turned downward.

In all the millennia they’ve shared together, she’s only ever had his anger directed at her three times before.

None of them were as furious as he is now.

She looks to Natasha next - stoic and emotionless as ever, never giving away her inner thoughts or feelings - then Wanda, who can only consider Freya with a somber expression, then looks away to Bucky. Vision, the ever neutral android, keeps his eyes on his wife.

Sam and Bucky sit silently on their barstools at the breakfast bar, watching Steve with careful eyes. Bucky tries not to look at Freya.

The consensus is suddenly clear to Freya. She’d already been walking on eggshells, already been tiptoeing around all of this.

“I think,” Natasha finally speaks. “We all just need to take a deep breath.”

“I think,” Vision adds, “Freya, it would be best for you to return to your room at this time.”

She takes a long look around the room, at the people who once begged her to consider them her family, at Thor, and at the subtle shake of his head, she turns, heading back to her room and waiting until she’s in the safety of its walls to allow her tears to flow freely until the heavy weight of her sadness pulled her to sleep.

~

It’s been years since she’d cried herself to sleep. 

But it was enough to allow the events of the night to play out. 

Heavy with sadness, sleep came to Freya easily, pulling her deep enough that those who entered the compound found their task for the evening to be easier than originally anticipated.

Around two in the morning, she awakes to the feeling of a needle pricking her neck, and before she can ever reach for the dagger on her nightstand, she’s under sleep’s influence once more.

Once the drug takes effect, one person lifts her into their arms, while another escorts them back the way they came, out of her room, and three more enter it, taking necessary things from it while also staging it to look like Freya struggled to fight back. 

They want the Avengers to know their friend was taken.

Her captors carry her off the residence floor, and out of the Avengers compound toward an awaiting black SUV, one among six. They await the others who staged her room, and once all is complete, they drive away, leaving upstate New York in the rearview for the bright burning lights of the city.

None of the Avengers stir once during the night.

~

It’s pitch black when she awakes.

Her body feels heavy, sluggish, more so than normal as of late. While it should feel familiar to her, she knows something is off.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. follows Tony’s programming and promptly wakes the entire compound by nine in the morning every day without fail, and Freya, in the years she lived in Avengers Tower and then in the compound, has never woken up on her own prior to the alarm. 

Freya sits up, a cold chill running over her skin, too cold for the tank top and shorts she wore to bed last night, as she takes stock of what she can make out in the dark room.

She’s on a cot, topped with a thin twin mattress, worn sheets, and a thin blanket over her. The pillow her head rested on is just as pathetic, though notably covered in a satin pillowcase. 

Next to her bed is a small nightstand with a pile of clean clothes on them. Her clothes, she notes. Clean undergarments, sweatpants, thick socks, a sweater, all folded into a neat little pile. On the floor in front of them lies the little fuzzy slippers she normally uses to wander around the compound on a quiet Saturday morning. 

Strange.

Her makeshift bed is propped in a corner of the room, and on the wall next to her, she notices a door that leads into what looks like a bathroom - toilet, sink, shower with a thin curtain. There’s a second door on the wall in front of her, no light peeking through the door whatsoever.

For a second, her heart sinks. She thinks this must be where they hold prisoners, the kind of people she and the Avengers question and accuse of crimes abound. Bucky must’ve left her her clothes and slippers then. The only bout of pity she’d get from any of them because he understands her more than any of them. 

But then she hears footsteps approaching. Footsteps that do not at all sound like Thor’s, Steve’s, Bucky’s, or anyone else’s. She knows the Avengers and all their body language and sounds by heart, knows the people who work for them, who typically approach them and rouse her from her sleep if she’s needed before F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s alarm. 

These are strangers.

And it comes crashing to her all at once. 

The heavy sleep. The sudden moment she awoke to a prick in her neck before slumber consumed her again.

She’d been taken.

Freya quickly learns that the door that leads to her room is heavy, some sort of strong metal as it opens, pouring light quickly into the darkness of her room. She blinks, giving herself more time to adjust as a man enters the room, hovering just within the doorway.

He’s tall, that much she can tell immediately. His brown curly locks are kept short to his head, almost reminding her of young Peter’s hair. But this person, this man, is nothing like Peter. Where Peter is still into his boyish looks, this man resembles that of the men she bedded in battle, warriors - strong, muscular, rough around the edges, but when needed, clean up handsomely.

His piercing green eyes threaten to burn a hole into her own eyes as he catalogs her in turn.

She is everything he remembered her to be, and yet, a stranger still.

Honey blond curly hair, the color of wheat, brown skin, brown eyes, plump cheeks, short and curvy frame if the way her feet barely reach the edge of her makeshift bed. She seems as innocent as any other woman he’s come across, but knows better. 

This goddess in front of him is legendary - there are myths about her, her name is etched in stone, in mythology, in history books, her prowess and power in the headlines and on news channels for all to see her glory.

She is not to be underestimated. 

He waits for her to launch herself at him, at the men that flank him, but nothing happens.

She continues to sit up in her lamely cot, stares, waits.

Freya tries to assess him, the threat he may pose, as best as she can. She can hear Tony’s voice now, mocking as her captor approaches her. “Tanned like a Greek god, brown hair, green eyes. From his expense suit down to his obnoxious Oxfords.”

They both wait, watching one another, assessing, before the man - clearly the one in charge, the one who ordered her to be taken - speaks.

“My apologies, goddess.”

“And British!” Tony’s voice says in her head. “My god, he’s a Bond villain if I’ve ever seen one, Yaya.”

Yaya, what a stupid nickname. But even now, she longs to hear it. She could cry with how much she misses him. How much she wishes he was here, that he would come to rescue her.

Even though she knows he won’t.

None of them will.

“I’m afraid your presence here is a necessity.” He continues, taking a couple of steps further into the room, his hands slipping into the pockets of his pants. “You see, it’s to be believed that the Avengers have something of mine. And now, I have something of theirs. So, until we can arrange a time to exchange our stolen items, I’m-”

A laugh bubbles up in Freya’s throat and spills past her lips before she even realizes it, can even contain it. It startles her captor, whoever he is, and he frowns, brows furrowed in anger.

“Something funny, goddess?”

Freya’s laugh dies down, and she shakes her head. “They won’t come for me.” 

He pauses, the anger leaving his face and replacing itself with confusion. “What?”

“I said they won’t come for me,” she repeats. “The Avengers? Whatever it is you want, I am definitely not the way to get it back. No one is coming to rescue me.”

Confused silence encompasses the room. A moment passes before he calmly asks “And why is that?”

Steve’s angry voice comes to her mind immediately.

The expressions of her so-called friends.

Of Thor, whom she thought was bonded to her for life, and his resentment that settles deeper into her bones now.

In a rush, more memories surface in her mind - a fight, a supposedly easy mission, a mistake, yelling, guilt, sadness, two hospital beds, the ceaseless beeping - and she shoves it down.

She has to.

“Because I mean nothing to them.” As firm as Freya means to be, her voice falters, tears threatening to fall. “And I’m not worth saving.”

There’s another moment of silence before her captor steels himself, striding out the door with the two guards who threw Freya into the room flanking either side of him. The heavy metal door slams with a finality Freya feels in her bones.

She doesn’t weep. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream.

She accepts her fate.

She’s going to die here. 

~

“What should we do, Boss?”

Anger ripples through his whole body, the fragility of her statement rushing through his mind on a broken, twisted repetition that tugs at a heart he thought no longer existed.

“They won’t come for me”

“No one is coming to rescue me”

“I mean nothing to them”

“I’m not worth saving”

He curses, swinging his arm and sending everything that was precariously placed on his desk tumbling to the ground. 

On a monitor on the wall, he sees her moving from the camera hidden in a corner of the ceiling of her room, sees Freya get off the bed and grab her clothes, slipping into those ridiculous slippers before padding into the bathroom. The light in the bathroom turns on before the door shuts behind her, and he tears his eyes away, staring out at Manhattan beyond the glass windows in his office.

He thought he’d bring her some of her own items of comfort for a short stay. Thought if when the Avengers came for her and saw her well looked after they’d have no choice but to give him what he wanted, what they stole, what was his birthright.

And now?

“They won’t come for me”

“No one is coming to rescue me”

“I mean nothing to them”

“I’m not worth saving”

He shuts his eyes, placing his hands on his desk as his head hangs.

“Boss?” his right hand man, Adonis, asks again. 

“How long has it been since we’ve taken her?”

Adonis looks at his watch before looking back at him. “About thirty six hours in fifteen minutes.”

Ah yes, he muses. The sedative dosage they administered to Freya was higher because of her otherworldly powers - to keep her and his men safe - but they still didn’t expect her to sleep for that long.

“And has there been any word?”

Adonis is quiet for a moment, and he rounds on him, watching, waiting. Clearly, her words resound in Adonis’ mind too, because he shakes his head slowly, no words.

He curses again, slamming his fists on the table. “Send them a message. Make it clear. We have something of theirs, and they have something of mine, and I want it back.”

“On it.” Adonis affirms. The door shuts behind him, and he finally lets out a lofty exhale.

“They won’t come for me”

“No one is coming to rescue me”

“I mean nothing to them”

“I’m not worth saving”

For once in his life, he hopes for his own sake as well as someone else’s, that his enemies respond.

~

That first day, after her shower, Freya found two things in her little captive cell.

First, after entering the bathroom and turning on the light switch, she re-entered into her room and found the light switch there, turning it on. It gave her comfort to know she wouldn’t be spending her days in captivity in total darkness.

After her shower - which she found had been filled with her toiletries from her bathroom in the compound, down to her towels, products for her curly hair Sam had gifted her, and her hairbrush - she found a small screw under her makeshift bed, and used it to carve a tally mark into the wall behind her nightstand. 

She knows the Avengers aren’t coming for her. They made it very clear when she saw them last that there was a line in the sand, and they stood on opposite sides. So she figures, with nothing else to occupy her in the meantime, keeping track of the length of her captivity is probably a good idea.

She was brought lunch not long after her shower by a man who had flanked her captor when they’d met earlier. He identified himself to her as Adonis. At first, she scoffed, thinking her captor was mocking her, but Adonis raised a brow, and she swallowed an apology, not realizing he’d been serious. He brought her a sandwich, chips, apple slices and sparkling water on a tray, and another two men, Theseus and the other Hector, came into her room to set up a small table and chair for her to eat her meals at. 

Adonis set the tray down on the table, along with a book that was most definitely on her nightstand in the compound the last she saw it. 

It was a book she hadn’t read yet, but one Peter had loved because it had been recommended to him by MJ, so he recommended it to her.

“It’s called ‘Shatter Me,’” she remembers him gushing, his words coming out happy and rushed in his eagerness. “It’s super old now, but MJ said it’s amazing.”

And so she bought it in hopes of being able to discuss it with him.

The memory of it crept into her recesses, and as quickly as she picked it up to read, she put it back down, letting it rest on the nightstand and mock her. 

Later, they brought her dinner, taking her tray and dishes from lunch away and replacing it with a dish that had a cover on it. It reminded her of one she saw in a hospital once, when she accompanied Sam to visit Steve after Natasha helped them to take down Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D in one fell swoop. 

Adonis removed the cover to reveal spaghetti, two slices of buttery garlic bread, another sparkling water, and a small ramekin with tiramisu.

“Is this how you feed your captives traditionally?” She mused, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Adonis scoffed. “The Boss wants you alive for the exchange.”

“The nonexistent exchange, you mean.” She murmured. “Does your boss have a name?”

He didn’t answer her, instead handing over another book of hers before turning away. Theseus had come in next, giving her a clean pair of her own pajamas and another change of clothes for the following day.

This book was one Thor had gifted to her, after she agreed to remain here on Midgard to protect Jane when he was called back to Asgard. A book titled “The Song of Achilles,” which Jane and Darcy said Thor had stolen from Darcy in the first place.

So, these men had taken her, taken her belongings, and moved them here. While Freya thought she should be feeling violated, offended, she couldn’t help but feel a fraction of relief. 

At least her captivity would be accompanied by small comforts. 

~

The tally marks add up. 

Freya clearly didn’t realize she’d lost time when she’d woken that first day, but he doesn’t have the heart now to tell her. But when she’s officially been gone for two weeks, he begins to realize keeping her in her cell, giving her meals and changes of clothes this way isn’t going to work.

Especially because it appears she is right.

The Avengers aren’t coming.

It fills him with fury of two kinds, for himself, and on her behalf.

She’d fought alongside them to no end. She’d fought beside Thor for a millennia, then swore allegiance to the rest. She’d fought beside them in New York, against Ultron, fought against Thanos twice, was by their side, and this was how they treated her?

He was sure he was missing something. 

“They won’t come for me”

“No one is coming to rescue me”

“I mean nothing to them”

“I’m not worth saving”

Perhaps something had happened?

It would explain why, after they’d presumably found her room completely upended, they didn’t burst into action trying to save her. They’d taken some of her clothes, yes, a few books and odd things to occupy her time, but her toiletries? All brand new, all identical to the ones they’d left in her bathroom.

They should have known she was missing. 

Why didn’t they know she was missing?

There was the possibility they did catalog the things taken, such as her books, her hairbrush, and maybe thought she’d packed a bag and left, tearing her room apart in rebellion.

But even that variable didn’t make sense. Especially since, thirty six hours after her disappearance, they’d sent the Avengers an email with a picture of her bound in a chair they’d taken whilst she’d still been sedated, along with a link to a clip from the footage the camera in her room collected. It was from her sleeping within those first hours, but it was clear she was being held captive.

And still nothing.

Freya, the almighty Asgardian goddess, has been missing from the Avengers for two weeks, and they’ve not come for her.

He expected the familiar thunder of Thor’s anger, the rains of his impending terror, the clang of the vibranium shield of righteous Steve Rogers, even the telltale signs of Tony Stark flying around.

Nothing. 

Absolute silence.

“They won’t come for me”

“No one is coming to rescue me”

“I mean nothing to them”

“I’m not worth saving”

Fine.

If they didn’t believe she needed saving, he would make it so that she truly didn’t need saving.

So that if the Avengers did decide to storm in here with the rancid smell of their justice and vengeance, they’d see she was perfectly unharmed, fine without them.

It wasn’t originally his plan, but plans can change.

~

She’d re-read her book from Darcy twice. Only managed to get through the first few chapters of Peter’s book because the memory of him and the character within the book made her heart ache far too much.

So when she wasn’t reading, anticipating the arrival of her captor’s flunkies, or napping to pass the hours, she stared at the tally marks on the wall.

Nearly two weeks. She sighs.

Perhaps this is her punishment. Perhaps, they’ve made a decision and cast her out.

She was never really one of them anyway, she thinks. Maybe this is them just reminding her of that fact.

The door to her room swings open, and instead of Adonis standing there with her lunch, it’s her captor.

She still hasn’t learned his name.

“Freya,” he says, all commanding. “Come, you’ll be having lunch with me today.”

She looks down at her gray sweatpants, oversized green shirt, and fuzzy slippers, then back up at his impeccable navy blue suit. He begins to walk away, and Adonis peers his head into the doorway then, motioning for her to follow his boss.

She does, albeit with confusion. 

They head down a long hallway, one that reveals her room is one of three on whatever floor she’s on, the others being supply closets. She follows her captor to an elevator, where she learns she’s been kept on one of three basement floors, and he pushes a silver key into a slot in the panel, turns it, then presses the button for “PH,” which she learned from Tony once-upon-a-time, that it stands for “Penthouse.”

When they arrive, she’s not surprised to see it pretty much resembles that of Tony’s old home in Avengers tower. It’s lavish, certainly, an open concept blending the foyer, kitchen, dining, and living room into one big space.

She’s steered toward the dining area where she’s sat in front of prebranac, punjene paprike and gibanica, accompanied by glasses of what she assumes are sljivovica, given the Serbian nature of the rest of the dishes.

He’d been doing this with each meal, her captor, feeding her food from cuisines all over Midgard. It kept her on her toes, to be sure, another thing that kept her slightly entertained.

Adonis, Thesesus, and Hector, line the walls of the dining room - presumably to keep watch, she thinks - and her captor doesn’t speak as he lays his napkin on his lap and begins to eat.

Freya does the same, and they begin to eat in a comfortable silence. Every now and again, his phone vibrates on the table, and he checks it, thumbs flying across the screen.

She tries to take note of the things within his home, but they all seem too impersonal, too cold, and none of it tells her anything about who he is, where he’s from, and if he’s making his henchmen take the names of men from Greek mythology to entertain her or insult her.

“What do I call you, then?” Freya asks, poking the food on her plate around with her fork. “I figure I’m not allowed to know your real name, but surely you have an alias, too. Maybe even a pen name.”

His head shoots up from his phone to look at her, clearly not anticipating her to have spoken to him at all. “What would you prefer to call me?” He asks, before directing his eyes back to his phone. 

Freya shrugs. “Hildisvíni is an option.”

He looks back up at her then, thumb poised over the screen, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “And where did you get that name from?”

She smirks, lifting her eyes from her plate. “It was the name of my pet boar back in Asgard.”

He laughs, a loud, booming sound. It startles the guards around them, and surprises Freya, but it’s a happy surprise, and she feels a small smile creep onto her own lips. As his laughter dies down, he settles his eyes on her once more, shaking his head.

A fond smile plays on his lips when he says “Absolutely not, dear goddess. Though I imagine your boar was a lovely pet, I’m afraid his name does not fit me.”

“My apologies, would you prefer the name of someone from Greek mythology? As you seem to have an affinity for it.” Freya says, gesturing to Adonis, Theseus, and Hector around them.

Her captor shrugs. “If you prefer.”

Freya thinks for a moment. Tries to review what she learned in the many books she’d read trying to understand this strange realm, and finally settles on one she deems close enough to who she thinks he resembles. 

“Orion.”

He blinks. “And why that one?”

She shrugs, going back to her meal. “You’re a hunter, are you not? You seek something that was stolen from you. That’s kind of like hunting.”

“If that is what you wish.” He says, taking a sip of his sljivovica.

“Orion it is, then.” She decides.

He looks at her then. Really looks at her. They catalog one another as they did the first day. He takes in her appearance, the thoughts dancing behind her eyes. 

Recognition dawns in them suddenly, and for a moment, he swears she -

“What is it?” He asks. Needing to know.

“Did…did they not answer you?”

“What?”

“The Avengers.”

Oh. Not recognition in her eyes.

Realization.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, but doesn’t.

“No.” He admits. “They didn’t.”

“I figured as much.” She says. “It has been almost two weeks.”

Orion sighs. “It’s been exactly two weeks.”

Freya blinks, confused. “But I -”

“You were sedated for thirty six hours.” He explains, which quiets Freya immediately. 

He can see that it pains her, that the news hurts her.

The rest of their meal passes as they sit in her heartbroken silence, and he is all of a sudden very angry at them.

The Avengers. 

All of them, especially Thor, who he knows has been by her side all her life.

He cements his new plan then with finality.

When their plates clear and Hector takes them away, he gestures toward his front door, asking Freya to follow him.

“Come, I want to show you something.”

~

They took the elevator to the floor right below the penthouse, floor number thirty four. There are many rooms here, and for a moment, she wonders if this is a hotel of some sort. 

Freya follows Orion to a door and he unlocks it with a white key card.

Okay, so possibly a hotel.

She follows him into the room to find herself in a large suite. Orion gestures forward, allowing her to explore on her own, and she takes his offer immediately. 

There’s a half bathroom to her immediate left, and as she leaves the short hallway, enters into a comfortable living area. There’s a small kitchenette, a couch, two loveseats, a chaise, even, propped against the floor to ceiling windows. A large TV sits opposite the couch, and to her right, a door to a bedroom. A king size bed lays in the middle, along with a cushioned bench at the foot of the bed. To her right are two large dressers, and to her left along the wall, a large walk in closet. Beyond the dressers she can see the door leading to another bathroom, this one full sized, with a large shower, double sink, and a toilet equipped with a bidet - the thing Sam insisted on installing in the bathroom in his room in the compound.

She retraces her steps to the living room where she finds Orion sitting in one of the loveseats scrolling on his phone. At her presence, he looks up, gesturing to the space around them.

“Well, what do you think?”

Freya shrugs. “It’s lovely. Comfortable, I imagine.”

“Is there anything not to your liking?”

Her brows furrow in confusion. “My liking? What does that matter?”

She’s only a little surprised when a lazy smile stretches across Orion’s lips. “It’s yours, obviously. That’s why.”

“Mine?” She exclaims, waving her arm around. “This is mine?”

“Yes. I would imagine after two weeks your accommodations in the basement aren’t exactly ideal, and simply won’t do, frankly, with what I have planned ahead.”

Freya frowns.

She’d called him her captor, but until this moment, hadn’t truly felt kidnapped until her dingy prison suddenly became a silver palace. 

And of course, the silver palace comes with a silver lining.

Freya had quickly learned on Midgard that sometimes, doing seemingly nice things for people tended to come with a price. It would make sense that since the Avengers don’t appear to be cooperating, he no longer has use for her. 

“Was that my last meal then?” She can’t help but ask, anger creeping into her tone. “Do you mean to give me one last night of peace before you kill me? Send my body back in pieces to the Avengers?” 

She can feel her fists curling at her sides, can feel her magic that’s sat dormant for over a month beginning to creep out, spreading from the core of her chest outward to her limbs. She can feel it dancing just beneath her fingertips, ready to strike -

And it weakens, settling solely in her hands as a safety measure.

Freya can feel the confusion seeping from Orion as the memory of the last time she used her magic flashes through her mind in painful recollection. Orion pockets his phone then stands, holding his hands out in surrender.

“Freya, that’s not at all what this is. I swear it to you.” He pleads, speaking slowly. “This room is yours to sleep in, to occupy, as the living goddess you are. I don’t want to kill you. That’s never what this was.”

“You said it was an exchange.” She recalls, guard still up. “And now that the Avengers won’t come get me, won’t cough up what you seek, you-”

“They don’t have it.” It comes out of his mouth in a rush, and she blinks.

“What?”

Orion lowers his hands a little, taking a tentative step toward her. “My men did a little reconnaissance for me. It seems, the Avengers don’t have what I seek. But I still have you, and they don’t seem too keen on coming to retrieve you, and it hardly seems fair to continue to punish you by keeping you locked up down there when it’s clear you’re punishing yourself enough for everyone involved.”

Freya feels like she’s been slapped in the face. Her magic vanishes from her fingertips, and she can smell the signature floral essence of it as it floats away in the air between them. 

“I’m not punishing myself.” She finally says, voice coming out quieter than she intended.

“You are.” Orion insists. “I can see it all around you. In the way you carry yourself. Your body language. Your quietness. The tally marks on your wall and-”

Freya cuts her eyes at him then, her powers suddenly returning as she advances on him.

Adonis intervenes then, stepping between them even though Orion isn’t deterred, doesn’t even flinch at her approach.

“You were watching me?!” She all but screeches, allowing the white hot flames of her anger to fully return and manifest in her hands. Adonis seems to flinch, but holds her steady with his hands firmly on her arms.

It’s useless - they all know it. She's a goddess, she can easily break his hold if she so desired, snap Adonis’ wrists with the full force of her strength if she chose to move forward.

But she doesn’t, she allows herself to be restrained. Wants to hear whatever pathetic excuse Orion has for doing so. Captive or not, the violation is there all the same.

To think she was beginning to trust-

“You’re right.” Orion says in a rush. “I violated your privacy and I’m sorry. It was wrong of me. But I had to be sure you wouldn’t try to escape.”

“Escape?! Escape to what?! I told you they weren’t coming for me! I had nowhere to go!” 

“I know!” Orion shouts, approaching Adonis from behind. He shoves his guard away, approaching Freya and risking the chance of resting his arms on her shoulders. “I know. I promise it was only in the area you slept in. Not in your bathroom. It was just to monitor you, a safeguard. It was still a violation, and I’m sorry.”

The flames lick at her skin before she snuffs them out, taking a step back and out of his hold, shaking her head. 

She shuts her eyes, clarity of the situation returning to her.

Perhaps Orion was right. Perhaps she’d been punishing herself so much that she’d lost sight of the truth of the situation.

Orion had kidnapped her. In the middle of the night, breaking into Avengers compound, sedated her, and stole her away. He’d had people trash her room, take her things, and lock her away in a dark room in the basement of this ridiculous building.

Sure, he’d kept her fed. Clothed - albeit in her own clothes - and comfortable, gave her a bathroom to utilize. 

But a pretty cage is a cage all the same.

Her apparent “new room” included.

Despite the tension between her and the Avengers, she was still one of them. Rhodey explained to her once there’s always going to be a line in the sand between the Avengers and everyone else, because no one would ever be able to understand the position they were in. 

Natasha helped her understand that someone would always want something from them, demand things from them, things she didn’t, couldn’t, will never be able to offer. 

There is a clear line in the sand between her and Orion. Even if he may be the only one to show her kindness at the moment, she is in a position he is not. He wanted something from her friends, her family, and now that they don’t have it, he expects her to play the part of a willing captive, a pet, a toy.

She refuses.

Opening her eyes, Freya keeps her gaze on the floor. Sure, she could leave, could escape now and return to the compound, but what good would it do? She could have left the day that she awoke, but where would she have gone? It was clear she wasn’t welcome with them anymore. 

She didn’t have a home. She’d made her home with Thor, at his insistence, no less, and now he didn’t want her around. Asgard had been destroyed. She’d maybe last a day in New Asgard before Valkyrie would tell Thor of her arrival, then she’d be promptly kicked out.

And after everything she’d done - she wouldn’t blame them. 

This is her only option, for now. Until she can gather the rest of her strength and her senses to figure out an alternative.

“If I’m still your captive,” she says, “then I should stay in my cell. Should I not?”

“You’re not my captive anymore, Freya.” Orion says softly. He reaches for her, but she steps back again. 

“I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

Fury dances behind his green eyes. “You’d rather sleep in that dingy basement than here?”

“If it’s so dingy, why put me in there in the first place?”

He says nothing. Freya knows it’s because he’s well aware that she’s right.

Instead, he takes a long look at her. The catalog one another again, just as they did that first night.

Only when Freya looks at him now, she doesn’t see anything but someone who wanted something from her, and when he couldn’t get it, began demanding something else.

Orion takes a step back, clearing his throat and heading toward the door as he speaks.

“You’ll find the rest of your clothes in the dressers in your room. There are additional clothes in the closet, should you need it. Your bathroom is fully stocked with the products used in your bathroom downstairs, but should you need anything additional, tell Adonis and we’ll have it taken care of. We’ll have your books brought up as well. There are guards on this floor monitoring your room, but there’s no cameras in here. Your privacy is yours. You’ll take your meals with me from now on. I’ll see you for dinner later.”

And with that, he and Adonis are gone, the door locking behind them.

It takes a few minutes for her brain to catch up to her, but when it does, she locates a pad of paper on the coffee table and a pen sitting next to it. She writes her tally marks down again, this time, with the accurate number of two weeks, and hides them beneath the couch cushions.

~

Orion. 

She had named him Orion.

He had debated telling her the truth at that moment. Removing the illusion, the facade, ruining this whole plan all to show himself to her because for a split second, he could not bear the thought of having her call him by another man’s name. 

But he listened to her reasoning. Remembering that here, and now, they were strangers. She was still under the impression that she was a means to an end.

He accepted it, accepted the thought, allowed it to convince him that this was, afterall, a new beginning for them both. 

In time, he tells himself. In time you can tell her the truth. There are things you must do first. Wrongs you must make right.

~

She doesn’t watch TV, doesn’t read her books, doesn’t do anything that is meant to bring her comfort or sway her into complacency. She showers, waits to take her meals, keeps a more accurate track of the tally marks, and in the interim sleeps the hours away.

Freya hoped initially that sleep would carry her from one hour to the next, but all it does is resurrect her memories. 

The day they all questioned if she could be trusted. Wondered if she was still on their side.

Each night passes, each nightmare the same. The screams, the dread, and then another nightmare enters her sleep. 

One of great loss, grief, of heartbreak and sorrow. 

Soon, she is torn between fighting to sleep to escape reality, and fighting to stay awake to escape the haunted recesses of her memories.

Days blend into weeks.

She eventually feels compelled to turn on the TV, watch one of those mind numbing shows Natasha and Sam are always going on about.

One of them manages to capture her attention, but is interrupted by breaking news.

News that the Avengers were off, one group to recover more stolen weapons, the other off plant following Carol Danvers.

While there is part of her that is happy they’re doing okay, an overwhelming sense of sadness creeps in.

The Avengers will never come for her.

She is Orion’s now.

[misguidedswagger]

Yours Truly, RK800 (Connor X Reader)

A/n: Hello, and welcome to my first multi-part fic here on tumblr!  I'm gonna do my best to make this as enjoyable as possible, but please bear with me as I have never written anything like this before! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy! Also, fair warning, this will not be entirely canon. *Yes, the switch between 'his/him/it/its/etc.' is 100% intentional. Summary:  '"The fuck is that thing doing here?" Hank grumbled, causing you to turn around.  An Android walked into the office, scanning the area for someone. The android turned it's head as it approached the two of you,

"Are you Lieutenant Anderson?" Your uncle sighed, annoyed. "Yeah, and what the fuck's it to ya?" He retorted. "My name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by Cyberlife." ‘ ~ Hank Anderson being your uncle came with a lot of positives and negatives. You had to deal with people always insulting him when no one knew what had happened to make your uncle the way he was, but, he loved you like his own child. He always talked positively, even when you were being a little shit which is why it was surprising but also not surprising when he got you a job in his city's police force. One day an android is sent to assist your uncle with android deviancy related crimes, replacing you. As angry as it makes you, you can tell your uncle doesn't like the Android either. When he convinces your captain to let the three of you stick together, what will happen? Chapter One

You yawned tiredly, sipping your coffee as you pushed open the door of the police station with your hip. You greeted everyone cheerfully, walking to your desk. You placed your coffee on your desk, then on your uncle's. "Rise and shine, Uncle Hank!" You said obnoxiously, startling a sleeping Hank. With a choke and sputter, your now awake uncle cursed at you.

"The fuck ya doin', Y/n?! Can't get a damn break from you, ya little shit..." He complained, shaking his head. His eyes trailed to the cup of coffee now sitting on his desk, "For me?" He asked, picking up the cup as he sniffed it.  You rolled your eyes, "No, it's for Reed." You spoke a little louder than you'd expected to and Reed's head perked up in your direction. Before he could open his mouth, Hank cut him off. "Still not a chance, Shitbrain." Hearing his insult, you nearly spit out the coffee in your mouth. 

"Shitbrain?! That's a new one!" You laughed after swallowing the coffee. The man simply shrugged and spoke, "Seemed right." Hank gave you a lopsided smile. You could almost feel the disappointment from Reed all the way across the office. However, Hank’s smile was immediately wiped off his face when he looked past you. 

"The fuck is that thing doing here?" he grumbled, causing you to turn around.  A tall man had walked into the office, scanning the area for something or someone. Upon finding what he was looking for, he walked to where you were standing next to Hank. Upon first glance, you noticed how attractive he was.  He adjusted his tie and completely ignored you, annoying you quite a bit. "Are you Lieutenant Anderson?" Hank sighed, annoyed. "Yeah, and what the fuck's it to ya?" He retorted. You scanned the individual once again, anger and disgust filling you. It was a fucking. android. 

Your face scrunched up as it introduced itself. "My name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by Cyberlife." "Oh Jesus Christ." You and your uncle spoke in unison. If you hadn't been so annoyed, you both would have laughed at that. The android began to speak again, "I was sent by Cyberlife to be your partner in Android Deviancy cases." It explained, and though you weren't impressed you decided to humor it. "My model, RK800, was designed specifically to help with police investigations." You raised a brow and finally decided to speak up. 

"Well not burst your bubble, android , but I am his partner." You said venomously. The android scanned you and you hated it. "You're Detective L/n." It began, causing you to scowl. "Yeah." You agreed, urging it to continue. "You've been staying with your Uncle Hank since your parents died. I am sorry for your loss." You almost lost your grip on the coffee cup you were holding and Hank noticed, "Get on with it, already!" He almost yelled at it. The LED light on the side of his head began to flash yellow and it seemed he took a mental note of sorts. It returned to blue before he began speaking again. "I do not mean to...how do humans say it..." Once again, his LED circled a dark yellow. " 'Burst your bubble', but I am replacing you as Lieutenant Anderson's partner."

 ~

Bursting into Captain Fowler's office with your Uncle and Connor in tow, your eyes were wild with rage. He turned around to face you and he let out a small hum of understanding. “So, the android’s here…” he said calmly. You took a breath to calm your voice, the anger still never leaving your eyes. You’d always been the more level-headed out of you and your uncle. “Yeah...Yeah, it’s here…What’s this about it replacing me?!” You accidentally shouted at the Captain, earning a glare from Uncle Hank. You murmured an apology under your breath, more focused on potentially being replaced by a robot. 

Your Captain stood from his desk and walked around it, sitting on the edge as he folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, Y/n. It’s out of my hands, Cyberlife directly has told me that the two of them have to work together.” Your eyes widened, “Are you fucking serious…?” You breathed out, shocked. Fowler nodded, “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I wish I could do more but I have to follow orders.” You were speechless with anger. You threw your hands up in the air and let them rest in your hair. “So what do I do now?” You asked no one in particular, trying to wrap your mind around the news. “The best I could do for you is put you on desk duty for their cases. Do you still want to be involved?” Fowler asked you. 

Turning back to him you held your head in your hands, closing your eyes as a headache began to grow in your temples. ���Yeah, yeah...Fine, sure. Whatever. Thank you Captain.” You trailed off, rubbing your temples. Leaving the Captain’s office, you went and sat at your desk, seeing the files start to pop up on your desk. You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out painkillers, taking them for your now throbbing migraine. Today couldn’t get any worse, or so you thought. You thought wrong, Gavin sauntered up to your desk, “Aw, did the little baby get kicked to the curb for an android?” He teased, “I guess we’ll be spending more and more time together than, honey.” 

You groaned loudly, “Gavin, for once in your fucking life, shut the fuck up!” You stood now, both fists clenched at your sides. You heard someone clear their throat and you looked over to see an angry Hank and confused Android. Gavin didn’t recognize the look, but you did and smiled to yourself before crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You heard ‘em, Reed.” Hank spoke lowly, shooting daggers at the man attempting to flirt with you. “Get a damn move on.” He stated angrily. Gavin rolled his eyes before turning around and making his way back to his desk. You plopped back into your seat, sighing. “You gonna be okay, kiddo?” Hank asked, rubbing your shoulder lightly. Resting your head in your hands, you nodded. “Yeah, Uncle Hank. I’ll live.” With a comforting pat, he nodded at you. Even though you didn’t see it, he knew you understood. “Jeffrey said you would be on standby, so call if you find anything interesting and be available for a call. Be safe, kiddo. Call if you need anything .” With a final glare to Reed, Hank and the android left the office.

 ~

Hours upon hours had passed and you were still at the office waiting for your Uncle and his brand new companion to come back. It was now a little over 9 at night, meaning the pair had been gone for over 4 hours. You were wearing Hank’s headphones, blasting Knights of the Black Death, one of your favorite bands. You were leaning back in your chair with your feet propped up on the edge of the desk, tossing a crumpled piece of paper up and down. You stared at the ceiling watching the ball move up and down, sighing quietly. Out of nowhere, Hank’s face was suddenly above you and you yelled. “Agh, Jesus!” You would’ve tumbled out of the chair if he hadn’t had his hands on the chair’s back. Hank let out a loud guffaw at your reaction, “Now we’re even.” 

He said before walking in front of you. With your heart still racing, you groaned in annoyance. Sitting up, Hank cut you off before you query about the case. He held up a hand,  “Hang on, I already know what you’re gonna ask. I have to go fill in Fowler, so why don’t you just come in too so you can hear the explanation? I’d rather not tell the same story twice.” You hopped out of your chair faster than your uncle could even blink. You placed the headphones back down on his desk, the music still playing as you both walked to your Captain’s office. While you and your uncle were with Fowler, you were completely oblivious to the android poking around both you and your uncle’s desks. Connor saw the headphones and thought to himself, What better way to get to know Hank than seeing what music he likes? The android slipped the headphones over his ears and heard heavy metal blasting. He took a moment to analyze the music and figured out the name of the music playing. He also scanned his chair, seeing dog hairs all over the back of the chairs. Another mental note made . Connor heard the smallest shift of weight and immediately knew that both of you were coming out and he placed the headphones down, awkwardly sitting next to Hank’s desk. Hank gave Connor a weird look then looked back at you, Connor then stood up and approached the older man. “Where could I sit and organize myself?” He groaned and rolled his eyes, shrugging him off. He gestured blindly at the desk behind his, “You can take the empty desk behind mine.” Connor nodded and did exactly that.

Hank sat at his desk and began to open the files you’d forwarded to him. Noticing from his earlier scan of his desk, Connor began to question Hank, “What’s your dog’s name?” Both you and Hank looked at Connor, slightly alarmed. “How’d you know I had a-? Nevermind.” He trailed off, not noticing Connor was still expecting an answer. Hank sighed, “Sumo. I call him Sumo.” Connor smiled and you shook your head in disbelief as you muttered, “Creepy.” under your breath. “Detective, know that my hearing is very good. I can hear your heartbeat from over here.” It told you, scaring you slightly. You said nothing and sighed to yourself, shaking your head. The android turned its attention back to the Lieutenant, “Do you listen to Knights of the Black Death? I really like that music.  It’s…full of energy.” Once again, both of your heads shot up.Hank took the words directly out of your mouth, “You listen to heavy metal?” You leaned forward on your palm, intrigued. How’d it know to specifically ask about that band? Was he snooping around? Was he planning something sinister?

 Whatever the answer was, you wanted to see the android attempt to get itself out of the situation it had gotten itself into. You almost laughed at its answer,  “I don’t really listen to music, as such… but I’d like to.” While Hank gave him a look, you stood up and walked next to him, leaning on the back of his chair. You listened to the music I left playing on his desk, didn’t you, Connor? You thought to yourself. 

Maybe Hank working with an android will be interesting

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer 

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology… 

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain… 

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan 

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs! 

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself… 

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus 

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub 

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest... 

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either… 

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor 

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

[ijwrsmff]

Ok- for Genshin, how about platonic yandere Xiao who’s obsessively protective of Reader because Zhongli has expressed romantic interest in them?

It is much longer than planned XD

We stan platonic yanderes in this household.

Word Count: 1,438

Xiao was resting at his usual place in the Inn, and he was met with an unexpected visitor. Zhongli had brought Xiao his favorite meal, and he got the distinct feeling he wouldn’t like the conversation that was about to occur. 

They sat in silence as they ate, and Zhongli finally cleared his throat after several minutes of silence, but didn’t speak up following. 

“Spit it out already.” Xiao went straight to the point, as usual. He crossed his arms and reclined back in his chair, sending a death glare to the archon without any traces of fear. Only irritation. 

“It’s…about y/n.” Zhongli responded, also clearly not used to having such…heart to hearts with anyone, much less the last remaining Yaksha. He knew that he had dispatched him and helped him to become an adeptus, but his orders were rarely in person. 

This quickly gathered Xiao’s attention, and a look of worry crossed over his face as he spat out his words, “What’s wrong? Are they okay? Are they in some kind of trouble? Are they-” He began before the archon interrupted. 

“No, no. Nothing is wrong with them.” He calmed the adeptus, holding up a hand to stop that train of thought. It was strange to Zhongli however, as he thinks that was the most words he had ever heard Xiao say in all the time of their contract relationship. 

Xiao did not relax after this. He stayed sitting up straight in his chair, and he had to resist the urge to jump over the table and strangle the man for making him worry about his darling sibling. “Then what the hell is it?” The words were venomous, as Xiao did not hold his tongue for anyone. 

Zhongli cleared his throat once again, and a slight blush made its way onto his cheeks. “I would…like your advice. I care for them deeply. I want to know more about them so I can take them out on a proper date.” He almost rushed the words, not wanting to take up any more time with the adeptus than needed, but he desperately wanted to know about you. 

Xiao was at a loss for words. He sat across from the archon, mouth agape in surprise. He expected many things…but not that. 

“No.” Xiao said, continuing at the confused look of Zhongli, “I won’t let you. They deserve better than you.” He stood up as he finished his sentence, and walked away, without giving Zhongli another second of his precious time. Moments he could be spending with you. 

The following day, you were having your regular lunch with Xiao. You made small talk, discussed your adventures and future adventuring plans. It was nice. Those moments you got to spend just…chilling out was always the highlight of both of your days. 

And all was going well…until Zhongli showed up. 

He was carrying a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers, and had a red tint to his cheeks. 

Zhongli looked to Xiao, and said “Oh…I came to see y/n, but I see you’re here as well, Xiao.” And he walked over to the table you were sitting at. 

At the sight of the flowers you blushed. Did he…get those for you? Your question was answered for you when Zhongli held them out to you. “Here, it’s not much…but I wanted to get you something special.” 

It made your heart flutter, and a blush to match Zhongli’s was present on your face. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, I love them!” And you accepted the flowers, setting them down on the table in front of you. 

You turned to your brother, “Xiao, look! He…” And you trailed off seeing the look on his face. 

He didn’t look mad. He didn’t look happy…he looked…apathetic. And you knew more than anyone that it was even scarier when he had that look on his face. It meant someone was in some serious trouble. He only ever had that look when someone hurt you. But Zhongli didn’t do anything wrong…who would he be mad at?

Zhongli looked just as concerned, if maybe a little on edge. What was this about?

“Xiao…calm down.” Zhongli pitched in, trying to resolve this situation before it happened. 

But it didn’t get through to Xiao. In a tone you rarely hear from him, he responded “Don’t tell me what to do.” And he stood up, walking over to your side of the table and standing between the two of you. 

You didn’t see it, but Xiao smirked at Zhongli. Something that you saw strike a chord in the opposing party. 

“He can’t date you.” Xiao turned back to you, hiding the smirk with a concerned look. “He doesn’t know how to be with humans.” And he turned back to Zhongli, now smirking once more. 

“Humans…?” You said, and stood up, walking beside your big brother to look at your crush. “What does he mean, Zhongli? You’re not human?” And he looked angry, but not at you…at Xiao. 

“It’s not a big ordeal, I simply…wish to live a human life.” He was clearly hiding something from you. Something he didn’t want to tell you. 

Your brother laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh. It was one that genuinely terrified you. It sounded so…malicious. “Has he not told you?” And he looked back at Zhongli with a sinister smile. “He’s far from human. It doesn’t matter if he wants a human life, he can never have it.” 

Zhongli looked at you, with pitiful eyes, before giving a glare towards Xiao that made you afraid to know what he really was. 

“Are you…a demon? Angel?” It wouldn’t be unheard of to have a demon or angel in your home of Liyue. But he didn’t seem particularly sinister, or angelic. He certainly carried himself with confidence, but you just assumed he was a confident person. 

Before Zhongli responded, Xiao spoke up “Remember how our residing god was killed? Rex Lapis? Do you remember that ordeal?” And he looked at you with a sympathetic expression. 

You nodded your head, “Of course I remember! We all mourned.” You said, not understanding where this was going. “What does that have to do with Zhongli?” 

The glare coming from Zhongli, directed at your brother made you take a step back. He wouldn’t…hurt your brother would he? 

“You…wouldn’t…dare…” He said, to which Xiao responded with a laugh. 

Xiao faced you fully, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking at you directly in the eyes. “Rex Lapis…”

Zhongli grabbed Xiao’s shoulder roughly, and he responded instantly. Before you could even think, he swept his arm around and used his polearm to slash Zhongli’s leg. 

He made a noise of pain, and took a step back. He didn’t look afraid, simply…livid. “Xiao! Keep them out of this!” And he pulled out his own weapon. 

“No! You wanted to court them, they deserve to know who you are!” The words came out in a hiss, and you stood in shock over what had just happened. Sure, your brother was confrontational, but not exactly…violent. Unless someone really deserved it. 

Once more, Xiao turned to you and looked into your eyes. “Rex Lapis IS Zhongli. Or should I say…Zhongli is Rex Lapis.” And an angry growl came from the man being discussed. 

“W-What?” You were completely in shock. Your crush…was a god? An archon? How could this be…”Zhongli…is this true?” Was all you managed to get out. 

He stood up fully, and looked at you…his look told you everything you needed to know. “Y/n! I was going to tell you…I was…” 

Now angry at the situation, you cut him off, “NO! You were what? Going to tell me after I’d fallen in love with you? Before I died of old age while you moved on?” You held up a hand to stop him from saying anything further, “Go. Now. I don’t want to see you.” 

He looked full of regret, but left without another word. 

Tears began falling down your face the second he was out of sight. Xiao saw this, and pulled you into a tight hug. “I know…I know. It hurts.” He whispered without pulling away from the hug. “I couldn’t let him anywhere near you without you knowing who he really was.” He explained. 

“I…I really liked him, Xiao. Everything he told me was…” 

“A lie.” It was blunt, but it was exactly what you were thinking. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. From him…and from anyone. God or not.” If you had the power to protect him as well, you would. But for now…his comforting words were all you needed. 

[thebonggirll]

not your type (kakashi x reader) - part one

pairing: kakashi hatake x reader.

genre: angst with happy ending, jealousy, pining.

synopsis: it wasn't like she hid her emotions. in fact, kakashi knew about it. y/n was rejected instantly, on the spot. she found comfort in hayate's embrace instead. and she wasn't hiding this either. but kakashi didn't know about it. well, he did come to know later one morning. and his reaction was quite confusing.

word count: 1.4k

"The usual?" Teuchi asked.

"The usual," Y/N said looking at her hands. She is definitely passionate about her work, and from the looks of it working as a medic for a long time has taken its toll on her hands. Of course, she can heal and make them look better, but she wanted to save her chakra. Besides, she knew she wasn't as good as Tsunade or Sakura - maybe a bit messy when compared to them but still, she adored every part of it.

It was around 10 PM when her work in the hospital came to an end. She sat on one corner of the Ichiraku Ramen shop, gazing lazily at her hands. "Of course, I'm not his type," she muttered.

"That makes the two of us." She smiled hearing the familiar voice and turned to look at her friend, Hayate.

"You..and Kakashi?" she asked, "Well, I don't mind."

"Wha- No! I'm talking about..." he cleared his throat and whispered, "someone."

"The one you are traini- mmph" Y/N struggled in removing his hands from her mouth as he tried to silence her.

"Oh, yeah sure, let the whole world know," he grumbled under his breath.

Y/N removed his hands forcefully, as her food got served. "I'm digging in," she said.

"Am I staying over today?" he asked.

"I mean...if you want to," Y/N said, ears slowly turning red. Looking in his direction, she found the smile she was used to...well, used to in the bedroom. Eyes full of lust, he slowly snaked his arm around her waist and pinched it.

Y/N yelped and shoved him away. "Not when I'm eating!" she said, a blush taking over her cheeks.

"For someone who spits venom everytime she opens her mouth, you sure are adorable," Hayate said, brushing her hair on the back of her ears.

She continued eating her food. She had plans of how oneday she's gonna settle down with someone she loves, doing the job she loves, have a small but loving family. Y/N didn't realize how her plans will all be torn to shreds when she falls in love with a certain silver-haired man. It wasn't in her plan. She was well aware of his past, and she wanted to stay as far as she could from this emotion. But the more time she spent with him on missions, his little gestures of care got to her.

And she fell in love with the infamous Copy Ninja, Kakashi Hatake.

It wasn't like she hid her emotions. In fact, he knew about it. Hell, her proposal after an A-rank mission, the news spread rapidly. It was embarrassing. Sometimes she wondered if anyone from the team spread it. Maybe it was someone who also liked him and didn't want to see them together. Hating them won't bring her any closure, now will it?

Y/N was rejected instantly, on the spot.

Although subtle, she invited him on dates several times, hoping someday he would agree to it. But then again, she knew how she must've been just one other fangirl in his life. They were good friends. They still are. Until it got to a point, her one-sided love started affecting her life. No one took her seriously whenever Kakashi came as a topic of conversation. Everyone just knew she had feelings for him. It was like a ongoing joke for them. Her feelings were a joke.

She knew she needed a break. It was really the right time for her to focus just on herself. She decided to work in the hospital instead of going out on missions. Tsunade wasn't against it. All these feelings stored inside of her were suffocating. Often, she went to drink alone in local bars. It was peaceful. No one to talk about her love life or their own.

That was when she spotted Hayate oneday. Seemed like, both of them came to escape from their feelings. Drunk and barely thinking of consequences, both spent the night together. And it hit them hard when they woke up the next day tangled with each other, naked. Never did she think that a day would come when she would shed a tear for Kakashi.

But she did, and it felt refreshing. Hayate was there to comfort her. With tears in their eyes, they talked about their feelings openly. A feeling both were drowning in. Unlike any other person in the village, it was nice to talk to someone who took her words seriously for a change.

Y/N put on her night gown after a bath and went towards the kitchen. Hayate was making some coffee.

The nights they spend together since then made them feel loved. Y/N felt insecure these days, knowing how her body was never as curvier like so many other female ninjas in the village. And taking up the job in hospital made it worse. She didn't eat healthy food on time, sat for hours doing paperwork. She could feel the rolls on her stomach whenever she sat down. Body positivity is good and she always made sure to encourage everyone. But it was hard to be positive when nobody found her desirable - well, at least that's what she thought. She hoped to get at least one invite to a date on her early twenties, but she didn't. Maybe she should've taken some time to focus on herself instead of working her ass off all the time.

"Stop thinking like that," Hayate muttered.

Y/N spread jam on her bread and said, "I'm not."

"You are," Hayate said, hugging her from her back, "You think there's no one in this world who even thought of undressing you?"

"No I know someone did, but they shouldn't be called a nice human."

Hayate nibbled on her neck and then said, "You are talking about molesters and criminals. I am talking about shinobis. You don't have any idea how many ninjas would love to be in my position."

"Oh! Where they fuck me and leave? I do!" Y/N giggled.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Hayate sighed, "You probably don't realize but when you concentrate hard on something, you have a pissed off face. It scares them even more cause you are friends with Kakashi and you guys are good friends."

"... just good friends. That shouldn't stop them from pursuing me," she muttered and turned on the stove to make some omelettes.

"Well, they're confused right now," he squeezed her ass and said, "They're trying to figure out what we are."

Just when Y/N was about to speak again, the doorbell rang. She put on a house coat and opened the door.

"Hi Ms. Y/L/N! I just wanted some breakfast!"

Naruto barged in along with the rest of Team 7. Well, excluding Sasuke. But Sai was there.

She felt a bit conscious of that guy. He was...way too forward with his statements. Smiling, she asked them to sit down as she went towards the kitchen to make some more breakfast for them. It became like a thing between them. At times, when Team 7 was done with their mission and felt extremely hungry, they came in to have some food. Y/N always welcomed them with open arms.

"Fuck, do I need to hide?" Hayate asked.

Y/N chuckled, "Why? Nah, they're already here."

No sooner had she said it, Naruto came running in to sit on one of the chairs around table.

"Mr. Hayate?" Sakura muttered, confused.

"Hey. Hope everything went well?" Hayate asked ignoring her reaction.

"Oh yeah, we still have to inform grandma Tsunade right now. But what are you doing here?" Naruto asked.

Y/N's cheeks reddened as she looked up at them, to see their reaction. While Sakura and Naruto had a confused face, Sai sat with his usual fake smile. And Kakashi...

"From the looks of it, Mr. Hayate spent the night here," Sai said, with the same expression.

Y/N cleared her throat and took the plates with breakfast on the table, while Hayate came with the rest. Sakura just threw a punch on Sai's face for being rude, her cheeks were red out of embarrassment too. She apologized as they quietly sat eating their food.

"Why Sakura, Sai is right," Kakashi finally said. Y/N looked up at him only to see him staring at her face. His eyes momentarily shifted on her neck. She flushed and brushed her hair forward in an attempt to hide the mark.

A strange heavy atmosphere settled in the room. While others were having their food as fast as they can, Kakashi barely touched his'.

When they were done, and the plates were on the sink, Hayate got up and walked towards the door. "Duty calls, I should leave," he said.

"We should too," Sakura said, dragging Sai and Naruto out of the apartment with her.

Hayate's eyes moved towards Kakashi for a second and then without any warning, he planted a soft kiss on Y/N's lips. "See you tonight," he said and left.

Y/N could've sworn she saw a small smirk on his face. Sighing, she turned to look at the silver-haired man. "Well, your team is waiting downstairs with you," she said.

Kakashi started walking out with a look in his eyes she has never seen before. But she did see his eyebrows furrowed. There was no way he was mad about it.

Mad about her and Hayate. He should as a matter of fact, feel relieved, right? Now that she's not a burden to him anymore.

There was no way, he could ever feel something towards her. She was not his type in the first place.

next >

anime — short length

MASTERLIST

[vidalinav]

The Winter Woods: Snippet

Based off of my Nessian Trashy Romance AU post. 

~

She was too beautiful. Cassian half wondered if he wasn’t already dead, and this was the holy figure who greeted him when he crossed. Lucky him, he decided, for she was certainly a blessing to look at... even if he did catch the glare she threw his way, and the bright tan of ash in her hands.  

“Where’s my sister?” 

Her words were tinged with a dangerous edge and Cassian blinked up at her for a moment trying to gouge where he was and why she was speaking to him with that ill-mannered tone.  

Cassian was fairly certain he knew females. He knew when they were disgusted, that piss off lunge of their gut. He knew when they were scared, that catch in a throat—that trembling thread. He was well-versed in the most tempting. The breathless, rough note of sweet promises and demure looks. This woman wasn't any of these when she spoke.  

This woman was very ready to stab him if she didn’t like his answer.  

So, Cassian decided that he better find a good answer.  

“Who?” Cassian asked, trying to sit up to get a better look at her. She might have been human. Certainly not fae, by how slight she was, her limbs shorter than any female he knew. Her scent wasn’t made up of fairy. 

She smelled as sweet as honey, and something calming like lavender. 

That fiery look she gave him was anything but calming.

“You're not going anywhere,” she said, her gaze shifting to his torso. Cassian looked there as well and found rope tied with the skill of a hunter. Was he the meat? Did she plan on roasting him over a warm fire? “Where is my sister?”  

“I know no such person, witch.”  

For that must have been what she was. She couldn’t have been human. Everything he knew about humans, meant she should have been trembling—that he shouldn’t have been in her home, lying in this bed that seemed to be hers, if the scent was correct.  

There was no other creature that could have been so arrogant.  

“And I’m supposed to believe you,” she mused. The beautiful human raised a brow, and he saw the dagger in her hands with clearer view as she reminded him it was there for him alone. “You were in our forests, where my sister was seen last, and you don’t know what happened to her?”  

“You’re full of tricks,” Cassian noted as he surveyed the tight rope on his wrists. He could barely lift an arm, but he didn’t know if that was from the rope or from the pain, though he could feel nothing. “You drugged me while I was sleeping?”  

She didn’t move to stop him when he tried wriggling his body for any sign of life in his limbs. He swore he could see her lips raise lightly. "Who knew snake’s venom could make a fae so compliant.”  

“Your motive?”  

“Where’s my sister?” she spit.  

Cassian wanted to sigh at the question once more, irritation working its way out of his mouth. “If I knew of anyone who looked like you, witch, I would take great care to remember and to never forget.”  

The woman... female, didn’t seem to like that much, and her eyes became dark and gleaming. An unholy storm settled there. He didn’t know how anyone could look both saintly and sinister, but Cassian wondered if he’d find himself asking for mercy, kissing at her feet, while she plunged that carved piece of wood in his heart.  

But the female... human woman didn’t go to him, raising that dagger over his immobile body. She merely sneered and ripped her way towards the door. “Then you can rot here until you remember.”  

~

Another fic that I don’t really want to write, but is also sort of entertaining... maybe. Idk. 

@arinbelle

[bibbykins]

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

[maverick-werewolf]

Modern Dragon Designs - Where they came from

Your regularly scheduled werewolf facts will return soon. For now, we provide this special, because you may not realize this, but I love dragons. There’s a reason one of my protagonists is basically obsessed with dragons.

Once upon a time, there was a movie - I don’t see anyone talk about it, I’m not even sure how many people are familiar with it...

It’s called Reign of Fire.

This movie shaped the modern Hollywoodian concept of dragons. Seriously, it did. Hear me out.

Released in 2002, Reign of Fire was a movie about - essentially - dragons as that age-old trope of “let’s take one monster and turn them into an overpopulated zombie plague so we can use them to tell a story about humans and make the monster just this brainless evil locust swarm backdrop.” This has happened to a lot of monsters by now.

But wait, these dragons aren’t like the dragons you might be used to: these dragons were completely redesigned from the ground up by the filmmaker(s) in order to make a more “realistic” and “animalistic” dragon that was acceptable by Hollywood, who generally views “dragon movies” (like so many other fantasy things...) as cheesy and silly. Market your movie as a film about dragons and you probably won’t get a deal. Well, turns out, coming up with your own gritty dragon designs worked!

Doesn’t this remind you of every other dragon you’ve seen in a movie for the last, you know, 18 years? Although it actually looks quite a bit cooler than those other ones that came after it

Please note that while I may sound sarcastic, jaded, and often maybe a bit scathing, I mean nothing against the creators of Reign of Fire or director Rob Bowman. I watched the movie in theaters when it released. I applaud Bowman for coming up with unique and interesting dragon designs, in order to have a different take on the creatures, so that they fit the story he wanted to tell, instead of doing what so many people do and completely co-opting concepts without trying to alter them to fit anything and... yeah... okay, I’m not going to talk about werewolf things in this post. Getting back on track:

What I don’t applaud is everyone ripping off Reign of Fire for their own dragons, doubly so because most of these people didn’t even take into account the reasons why it was designed that way. They should have left his dragons alone and come up with their own thing, but at least I guess Bowman can go down in history as the man who designed every Hollywood dragon for over a decade to come - with no signs of stopping - even down to the tail shape.

On Vice, you can find an article and interview with Rob Bowman, the director of Reign of Fire, discussing how he came up with this dragon design and how influential it has become. I highly recommend giving it a read.

Please note the Vice article is clearly written with the bias of someone who “can’t take dragons seriously,” so it’s also a good look at the Hollywood mindset about dragons and how much Hollywood treats fantasy in general like garbage (jerks).

It’s impossible to pretend this movie didn’t basically reshape modern dragons. Let’s get to the details...

Animalistic Design

Dragons in popular culture are generally - or at least they were generally - assumed to be powerful, intelligent creatures, often of a higher nature than humans and other mere mortals. They may be good or evil, but one can’t understate that traditional fantasy dragons are regal and majestic either way.

Reign of Fire wanted to usurp the majestic, intelligent dragon image, creating a smaller, hunched, knuckle-dragging sort of dragon that looks more like an animal - like a pteranodon. This is because the dragons in Reign of Fire are not exceptionally intelligent, noble beings that speak and hoard gold and have the wisdom of the ages. They are brutal hunters that set things on fire and eat everything smaller than them. So this design choice was a conscious one and a smart one.

The dragons in Reign of Fire are meant to be more scientific, more plausible, and also simpler, in a manner of speaking. They are not colorful, magical, ancient fantasy dragons...

Trouble is, everyone took cues from this design for their talking wise noble fantasy dragons, and it... doesn’t really work, at least if you ask me.

The dragon design in Reign of Fire looks like an ancestral throwback, an evolutionary ancestor to the intelligent, talking fantasy dragon, although they are smaller. They’re hunched, they haven’t evolved forelegs independent of their wings... you get the idea. Take a look at the “proto-drakes” in World of Warcraft versus the ordinary drakes, which have tiny dangly T-rex forelegs that haven’t fully developed yet, so they walk like the Reign of Fire dragons.

A proto-drake in World of Warcraft - also say hi to my worgen warrior

So many things taking this design for their intelligent, “higher being” dragons seems kind of... odd to me, to say the least. Unfortunately, Hollywood decided that’s the only way moviegoers can “take dragons seriously,” so here we are.

“Wyvern” - Two Legs vs Four

Municipal arms of Stjørdal, Norway

In medieval heraldry, there came to be a creature called a wyvern. Now, the etymology on the term “wyvern” is a little shaky. It originally didn’t specifically refer to a “two-legged dragon.” It is thought to mean/be derived from words meaning anything ranging from “asp” to “light javelin,” and essentially boils down to a flying serpent. It is noteworthy, of course, that the word “dragon” basically just means “serpent” too.

In heraldry, though, “wyvern” came to refer to a two-legged dragon - at least, if you ask the English, Scottish, and Irish; elsewhere in Europe, they may not be so picky. And now, in modern pop culture (such as Dungeons and Dragons), we often use it in the same sense.

Wyverns weren’t really a “thing” in folklore, just as dragons in folklore didn’t look like our modern idea of a dragon. It’s debatable whether the father of our modern concept of dragons, Fafnir (from whom Tolkien drew inspiration for Smaug), even had wings at all; he was essentially a serpent, perhaps with legs. Point is, wyverns come from heraldry, especially the specificity of two legs versus four.

So now you know why you might see a lot of people (myself included) referring to this design as a “wyvern design” for a dragon.

Dull Coloration - Grey and Brown over Red, Blue, Green...

There’s something else - something very important - that Hollywood took from Reign of Fire... the concept that dragons aren’t pretty colors and are, in fact, various hues of grey and brown, and any more contrasting colors are just vague indications instead of bright red scales.

Now, Reign of Fire obviously did this because - again - they were going for the more animalistic, natural look as opposed to the mysterious majestic magical being look. Okay, that’s fine. But then Hollywood decided that fantasy, too, has to be devoid of dragons with bright colors.

The green dragon in Game of Thrones

There are countless examples of this in modern media. Any dragon that was previously brightly colored has been dulled pretty much to an extreme. Sometimes you might catch a fleeting glimpse of them looking like a brighter shade, but it was probably just a trick of the light. Why? Because all dragons are desaturated to the point of being almost indistinguishable by color.

The golden dragon in The Witcher Netflix series

This is also why you see so many mods on the Skyrim Nexus called things like “true red dragon.”

There are plenty more examples of this - I’m sure you can see the difference when you look at those dragons and other modern film dragons over, say, something like this...

Red dragon in D&D

And now we move on to...

The Fire Breathing - Chemicals, not Magic

Bowman insisted on ditching traditional fire breathing (you don't want the audience wondering whether the dragon's mouth is being burnt up with every flame) and again looked to the animal kingdom for inspiration. The king cobra, once again, was a great starting point. It doesn't spray fire, but it can spit its venom. Even more useful was the bombardier beetle, which shoots two chemicals from its abdomen that, once mixed, create a hot, burning spray. Bowman used these real-world examples to inspire his own dragons. They don't breathe fire exactly, but rather spit chemicals from two different sacks in their mouths that, when combined, ignite. "That's anatomy. That's already been designed, so we're going to draw from there," he said.

(quoted from the Vice article linked to earlier in this post)

The Hungarian Horntail in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - fire is streaming from two separate organs in the mouth, but they aren’t chemicals mixing together like in Reign of Fire...

The director of Reign of Fire wanted his dragons to be more natural in that they breathe fire through organic means, based on chemical reactions, instead of the usual dragon magic. But lots of people loved this “mouth flap”/”mouth organ” design with “streams” of fire coming from the mouth instead of fire flowing directly from the dragon’s throat, so now you see it pretty dang often.

Horns? Brow Ridges!

Another thing that is basically out now in dragon designs is the real horns of many traditional dragons, like Spyro, and like the dragons in Dungeons & Dragons used to have.

These days, it’s all about brow ridges and big spiny scales that aren’t separate horns, they’re just big pointed scales or piles of scales or bone ridges - and they aren’t a different color than the dragon’s scales, either, pretty often. And, in general, dragon’s horns have become much smaller and far more numerous, and more like spines/ridges, as opposed to the great, sweeping horns of classical dragons.

Firkraag, the red dragon, in the D&D video game Baldur’s Gate II, from 2000

Firkraag is a very traditional dragon. Now, while Dungeons & Dragons has generally kept more traditional dragons (yay!), they did fall into the brow ridge horn thing - although they, thankfully, didn’t make the horns smaller and subtler and more numerous little spikes, like so many other modern dragon designs. They also went with the brow ridge horns for tieflings (once humans with demon blood, then some weird thing in 4E, and now I think they’re humans with demon blood again), as opposed to the ordinary horns of the tieflings in previous editions of D&D.

Skyrim dragon head concept art

The Desolation of Smaug(’s design)

Here is... a big one. Here, we’ll talk some about the production of The Hobbit films over time, so we’re going behind the scenes.

Alright, so we all know Smaug, probably, by pop culture osmosis if nothing else. He is the quintessential dragon. He’s basically the founder of all Western dragon concepts: he’s big, he’s red, he hoards gold, he’s extremely intelligent and talks, etc. You get the picture. Every dragon that we have borrowed at least something from Smaug. And, in turn, he was inspired by Fafnir, the father of all our dragon concepts, from Norse mythology - but Tolkien took it all a step further and created the concept of dragons that we have today. Or, well, the not Reign of Fire ones. The fantasy ones.

A map drawn by Tolkien: notice the winged, four-legged Smaug over his mountain

During the first Hobbit movie, An Unexpected Journey, we see Smaug attack the Lonely Mountain...

In this clip, you can plainly see that Smaug has four legs. This was actually edited slightly for later editions of the movie, or so I’ve heard (I haven’t watched any later editions).

I can tell you for certain that when I saw the theatrical release, it was like this, too. It is apparent throughout the scene that Smaug has four legs and wings, separately. I know because I was paying very, very close attention, because I was going to be very upset if Hollywood turned Smaug into a wyvern.

Well, they did - later.

Smaug the wyvern looking like just another slightly different take on the bog-standard Hollywood dragon

Apparently, some studio exec decided that having a traditional fantasy dragon, even if this dragon happens to be frelling Smaug himself, would not be okay in this modern Hollywood world. So we ended up with a dull reddish spiney hunching knuckle-dragging wyvern with an angler mouth (I’m sorry; I really am sorry if you like the design, that’s totally fine, it’s a fine design, I am glad you enjoyed it, but Smaug shouldn’t have looked that way IMO and forgive me but I am still in pain over it) in place of a more traditional dragon that held more to things like, I dunno, how Tolkien himself drew Smaug. Smaug’s movie design flies right in the face of that and destroyed our chance to finally see a proper traditional dragon done justice on the big screen.

Tolkien’s art of Smaug - note the position of the forelegs, separate from the wings, like in the earlier map

This is all just one big example why we should be thankful that The Lord of the Rings films were all shot in one go, so no one could alter important things like the design of the fantasy genre’s father of all dragons, in the middle of production. Of course, the production on The Hobbit movies was a nightmare at best, as you can read about in assorted other articles, and Peter Jackson was very unhappy with what the studio had him do to the series. All of that is just another story, I suppose.

Dragons Redesigned by Reign of Fire: Example List

Now that we’ve gone over just a few of the talking points about Reign of Fire’s dragon designs (although I didn’t even get into the flat, spaded tail look in detail), here’s an undoubtedly incomplete list of several examples that have either entirely taken the design and/or were massively influenced by it...

(please note that not everything in this list held entirely to Reign of Fire’s design, obviously; some have the fire, some don’t; some have horns, some have head/brow ridges; but all of them are wyverns and most are darkly-colored)

Skyrim - Obvious influence with the general design, skin/scales and ridges design, as well as coloration; however, it is noteworthy that the Elder Scrolls has had dragons with no forelegs since at least 1998, in the game Redguard - though that dragon was also very brightly-colored (also of note: Peryite, while technically a Daedric prince and not a dragon, had four legs at least as far back as Daggerfall in 1996)

The Hobbit films, specifically The Desolation of Smaug onward - as mentioned before

Harry Potter movies - Wholesale. Two streams of fire from mouth flaps in Goblet of Fire, generally dull greyish and/or brownish colorations, no forelegs, short/simple horns that are mostly ridges...

Gods of Egypt - The giant fire-breathing cobras have the mouth flaps

Game of Thrones - This one’s pretty obvious too.

Disney’s Maleficent - In the new live action Disney movie(s), the dragon falls right into this design (though the fire doesn’t come from mouth flaps)

Netflix Witcher series - Villentretenmerth is very much a wyvern design and a dull shade, and he in fact has no horns at all, even though dragons weren’t portrayed this way in any previous Witcher adaptations

Stargate SG1 (season 10) - In the episode series “The Quest,” a dragon appears and... well, it looks just like all those other dragons, though the fire does come from its throat.

Beowulf (2008) - I try not to ever talk about or think about this film, but I have to just throw out there that the dragon is very much Reign of Fire, especially with that wyvern design.

Seventh Son - If you can call Malkin a dragon  - she was called one, I think - she definitely also has the same kind of dull-colored wyvern design.

Sucker Punch (movie)

Lots and lots of B-movies and direct to DVD/streaming films - Dawn of the Dragonslayer, Dragon (2006), Dragon Crusaders...

Something to note, also, is that cartoons, anime, and other non-film media is mostly - but not entirely - free from this influence. Cartoons especially are free from it, partially because they aren’t influenced by Hollywood producers who want “serious” and “realistic” dragons. Cartoons are allowed to have magical, colorful, four-legged dragons. Unfortunately, we are deprived of those in live action film and television, by and large.

There are still other exceptions - most notably things that were created before this influence, like Dragonheart and its spinoffs and sequels, which have thankfully kept their dragon designs consistent instead of erasing their forelegs.

Of course, why dragons are depicted as four-legged and winged in the first place - and when this depiction arose - is another topic entirely. I’m not going into that right now, seeing as how this post is already preposterously long.

Long story short, I was rewatching the movie Gods of Egypt and, when I saw the giant cobra monsters breathe fire, I was possessed to write this article. Because Reign of Fire’s influence is something I have always noticed ever since its release, and something my brother and I talk about a lot (and everyone who knows me has surely heard me talk about it, too) - because, frankly, it’s always bothered me. My favorite dragons are traditional dragons: four legs, bright colors, wings, horns, breathing fire, the works.

So, although the original creator of these design ideas did something cool and different because he wanted to do his own take on dragons, Hollywood decided that these design cues should be taken to dumb down all dragons forever, the same way that Hollywood has dumbed down so many monster designs so that the only acceptable ones just a bunch of near-replicas of each other, including werewolves.

I think it’s very sad that film producers think you can’t take something like dragons or werewolves seriously unless they are dull, nontraditional, and ugly. And I say ugly in the sense of these are not pretty, majestic fantasy designs - they are, many of them, intended to be ugly. Though I personally also hold the opinion that most of them are ugly regardless of if they are intended to be ugly.

So - now you know! If you haven’t seen Reign of Fire, go check it out to meet the father of modern dragon designs, from the color of their hides to the shape of their bodies, the smaller horns, and - sometimes - even their tails.

(Special thanks to everyone on my discord who helped me compile this list, as well as of course my brother and all our ranting at/with each other on this topic over many years)

If you like this post, maybe you’ll enjoy the rest of my blog, where I post a lot about folklore and all kinds of monsters (especially werewolves)!

Werewolf Facts --- Patreon

[forever-rogue]

Hii! From Prompt List 1 can u do number 3,51 and 243 w javier peña please ✨

Also i love ur writings so much ⭐

3. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

51. "Go on them, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

243. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!"

Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Tell me," there was nothing but venom lacing your voice as you stared at Javier. Your face was slick with tears as you tried to keep your lips from trembling. You wanted to break down, gods knew you did, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You would do that as soon as he walked out of your apartment for what would be the last time, "go on then, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

"Don't do this cariño," the bastard had the audacity to try and call you by your pet name, "you know this is the way. The only way."

"You're such a damn liar," you hissed at him. You should have seen this coming. You should have known. 

You shouldn't have fallen in love with Javier Peña.

"We always knew what we were doing was wrong," it was a meek insistence, hollow and empty and neither of you quite believed it, "it was never supposed to go this far."

"This far? This far?" you wanted to scream, to grab his shoulders and shake him, to knock some sort of sense into him, but instead you just stared at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, "did you think we would fuck and that’s it? I told you it was never going to be just that. And you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You need to stop," this time it was more firm and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the hit of rage that had seemed into his bones, "we both knew what this was from the start. It was just sex."

"You're here, in my apartment, lying to my face," you sniffled as you dabbed at your eyes and wished you would wake up to find this was a horrible dream. You wished you'd wake up, wrapped in his arms while he slept soundly, like you had so many other times. You wished, you wished, you wished. But that didn't change the reality of the situation, nor the gravitas of it, "if you can look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me - never loved me - do it. If you can do it, I'll let this go."

"You're being ridiculous," he huffed and rolled his eyes ever so slightly as his hands went to his hips. 

"I'm being ridiculous?" your voice rose up about two octaves as you realized just how hysterical you did sound. But it didn't matter - once Javier had made up his mind, he was a stubborn piece of work. But you refused to let this go, "I'm not the grown man that won't even admit his own feelings. That runs every time something comes up. That shuts out everyone and everything anytime it gets real."

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this!" and there it was - the fiery temper that he was famous for. It wasn't shocking because it had suddenly jumped out; it was shocking because he'd never raised his voice at you, "maybe you just want to make something out of nothing! It was never anything - it was just sex. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" you raised your voice and yelled back with just as much as anger and spite as he spit at you, "you're a liar and a coward. You can't even look at me - if you don't love me fucking tell me!"

"I'm not doing this right now," he huffed as stepped over the threshold, shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements as tired to control his anger, "I'm done - whatever we had, its over now."

"Javier," you tried to reach for his hand, but he was quick to pull out of your grasp, causing you to sigh heavily, "don't walk away - not like this."

"There's nothing left to say," he insisted quietly, staring at the floor, rather than daring to look in your eyes, "I'll see you at work and that's that. Everything else is done. Obviously you cannot handle this."

"You're just going to walk away," you were incredulous as a few tears of grief and anger rolled down your cheeks, "fuck you, Javier. I hate you." 

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. Tears were heavily pouring down your cheeks and spilling onto the cool slide as you sank to the floor. Small ugly little sobs racked your body as you gave up and in to your pathetic inner, upset self. You loved him, you really, really did. You knew that. 

You knew he loved you too. You knew he was scared. Damn scared. And it was okay - if he would have opened up to you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You look like shit,” Steve barely looked up from his coffee and morning review of documents as Javier stormed in, practically slamming himself down in his chair. He groaned and flipped Steve the middle finger before reaching for his cigarettes, effortlessly lighting it up and leaning back, “what happened to you?”

Javier closed his eyes but remained silent, a vain attempt at letting his mind wander too far. He hadn’t slept the night before, mind and thoughts racing over and over with snippets of his conversation with you. Your words had stuck in his mind all night: coward, coward, coward. And you had been right. 

He was a coward; pathetic and scared all because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Or hurting you. And in the end he had managed to do both. It was never supposed to go this far, it was never supposed to be anything more than sex, but the lines had become so blurred and so fast, and before he knew - he was in love.

And that terrified the shit out of him. 

So he reacted how he tended to do; to push you away. To isolate himself. It was supposed to be easy, supposed to work. All it had down was leave him with regret eating him up alive. He should have admitted you were right, he should have confessed. If there was anyone worth taking a chance on - it was you. He’d known it was you from the first time you’d had sex it was just...different. Different from every other experience he’d had. And gods, how he’d slowly fallen for all the little things you did, all your little quirks. 

Your smile, that laugh, those eyes that seemed to convey a million emotions at once. Your steadfast stubbornness, the fact that you always called him on his bullshit, how you never backed down from confrontation, how you gave so much to others and asked for so little. How you’d chide him for getting even a papercut, and how you’d love him, even when he didn’t ask you to. How you;d take him in your arms, wordlessly, and give him everything he needed and then some, how you’d chase away his fears and pain. How - 

Everything. 

He was in deep, and when it came down to the wire, he’d run. Like a liar and a coward. 

His eyes snapped open and landed on the desk, the spot you normally occupied and found it empty. A scowl tugged on his features as his brows knitted together, “where is she?”

“Hmm?” Steve looked back up and followed Javi’s line of sight before he shrugged lightly, “I talked to her this morning, said she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed under his breath, just enough for Steve to hear, “did she say when she’s coming back?”

“I dunno, Javi,” Steve sighed heavily, “she’s a grown woman, if she’s not feeling well, she’s not feeling well. She’ll be back when she’s better. Calm down.”

“Steve-”

“Oh god - you’re in love with her. Aren’t you?” the smirk tugging on his features was undeniable as Javier rolled his eyes but refused to look over, “I knew it - everyone knew it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his mouth went dry as he looked at his partner and felt like slamming his head against the wall. Of course. It’s so obvious.

“I mean...it’s just...everyone’s known, Javi,” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, “it’s so obvious. You’re different because of her - for her. You might be the last person to know. Shit...you haven’t told her, have you?”

Javier made a small sound in his throat but otherwise remained silent as he stared at your desk. Not feeling well my ass, he thought to himself before running a hand over his tired face. 

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or - 

Shit. He had really messed up. 

You were all he could think about, plaguing his waking and sleeping hours as he tried to figure out what to do. His mind was on you as he sat in the office and smoked cigarette after cigarette and glossed over paperwork. You were in his every thought as he and Steve chased after some of Escobar’s men; so much that he almost slipped up and let them get away. 

By Friday afternoon, he couldn’t handle it any longer. This was ridiculous and he was going to put an end to it all, one way or another.

Javier almost jumped out of his seat, grabbing his leather jacket and half empty pack of cigarettes without a word as he stormed out of the office. Steve barely looked up in time to catch him, his question dying on his tongue as he watched his partner storm out. He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was going on.

Finally, he thought to himself shaking his head, finally. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Open the door," Javier's voice was commanding but it still managed to shake as he rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint of your door, "cariño, I know you're in there…"

And you were. You were curled up on the couch in your pajamas, an empty bottle of wine on the table as an old, cheesy romance movie played in the background. The lights were off and you were tired, but you still couldn't manage to find sleep. 

You'd avoided going into the office for the last couple of days, feigning illness and earning a scoff from the ambassador, but nothing else was said. In the time you'd been in Colombia, you'd never so much as used a single sick day, so they didn't question you. But of course your partners did. Well, one of them. The other had known exactly what was going and it had been eating him up inside, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

But his little heart to heart with Steve had inspired him - practically shoved him in the right direction. You'd been on his mind rent free since he'd left. Hell - for much longer than that.

"Go away," you managed to croak out before burrowing further into your pillow, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks at his presence. Knowing you almost had him but didn't was heartbreaking, "you made it clear we have nothing, Javier.”

“Open the damn door,” there was a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard before - was that...desperation? Javier paused and sighed heavily, “please. I-I...fuck, I fucked up.”

“If you’re going to play some sort of cruel joke, save your breath,” you huffed, “like you said, we are nothing. We’ll be work partners and that’s it.”

There was a beat of silence and a part of you thought he left, you were almost relieved at the thought. But before you knew it, you heard the keys jingling in the lock and the door opened; you cursed yourself for giving him a spare set. Either way, he probably could have figured out how to get in anyways. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Cariño,” he came and swiftly made his way over to you, frowning when he saw you all curled up and the discarded mess around you, "I-"

"Go away, Javi," it was a pathetic plea as you glanced up at him. His heart felt it was going to shatter and break at the sight of your red, glossy eyes as you sniffled at him, "haven't you done enough? Or should I be apologizing for having feelings and being honest about them?"

"I should be begging you for forgiveness," he dropped to his knees beside you, a hand tentatively reaching out to you, as he tried to see if you would pull away. Despite wanting to, instead wishing you could yell and scream, you stay rooted in position as he gently pushed your hair out of your hair. He brushed his thumb gently over your cheek as your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar touch, "I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" your brow furrowed at his words, "you made yourself very clear."

"I fucked up - you're right. I am a liar and a coward," he confessed as your eyes snapped back open to meet his. They were gentle, softened in the corners with the crinkles that you adored so much, "I realized I had feelings and I panicked. I shut you out and hurt you."

"My head hurts, Javier," you sighed slightly, "just get to the point."

"I love you," he admitted and suddenly it felt your heart had dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He was sure you must have heard the wild beating of his heart as he tried to anticipate your reaction, "I-I'm in love with you."

"If this is your idea of a joke," you moved his hand away and sat up, trying to prepare yourself for any possibility, "its even more fucked up than just breaking my heart. I knew what this started this and I should have stopped it when I started to catch feelings but I-"

But Javier didn't let you say anything further. Instead, he cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply - slowly and with meaning. It was an easy dance, one you'd done hundreds of times before. But this time just felt...different.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, and yours wound around his neck. Effortless and easy, just like everything with him was. It was anything frenzied or hurried, but slow and gentle as he tried to convey his every thought and feeling through his touch. He thought his heart might burst when he felt your smile whilst his lips, as you carded a hand through his dark locks.

Only when you were both breathless and drunk off of each other did you pull apart. He stared at you, his gaze soft as you grabbed his face and delicately cradled it before pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I hope this means what I think it means or I'm going to have to murder you," you whispered against his lips, as his own tugged into a smile, "because I am in love you and I don't know if I can ever change that."

"It means I'm an idiot," he admitted, "a cowardly fool that ran when things got real - although they were always real. Its obvious, isn't it? I just never realized."

"That's because you gave a thick skull, Peña," you gently tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, "and you need to learn to be more open - with me anyway. You don't have to be afraid, Javi. Not with me; I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I know you - the real you - and nothing about you scares me or whatever you think it is. I love you and that means every little bit of you."

"I…" he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as your words washed over him. His heart had never felt warmer or more light as he realized the immense weight your words held. He closed his eyes and nodded, gently pressing his forehead against yours, "I love you. Fully and completely cariño. Even if I am an idiot."

"My idiot," you promised softly, "just talk to me next time, okay? Don't run and hide - stay with me. It'll be okay, you will always have me."

"Fuck," he whispered as he pulled you into his arms and wrapped you up in the tightest hug possible, "I'm sorry - so sorry. I love you."

"I love you, Javier," you whispered, "stay with me?"

"Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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