gayciegaybrams

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Held | Ghost x Price

Day 12: Rotten Touch w/ Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: While on leave, Simon can’t seem to get to sleep properly, and Price knows just the thing to help.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: death, murder, guns, blood, stealing, nightmares, ptsd, implied soapgaz smut, non sexual cuddling

A/N: my allergies are killing me, but this is my first time dipping my toes into the waters of priceghost, so I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

His hands weren’t just an instrument of death.

They were a carrier; a harbinger of it, what made the sirens start blaring, warning people of what came ahead if they didn’t run.

Well, it wasn’t like running would help anyway.

Once he touched someone, it was over. Like a plague, a fungus, it spread from person to person.

From the mother, crying over the body of her dead husband who had a few new bullet holes through his chest, who’d reached for the gun, seconds too late as his finger pushed down on the trigger, silent shots entering her body, choked sobs coming from the now-wailing child in the corner as she ran to her mother’s body, shaking it as the ground rumbled from a nearby explosion.

To the shopkeeper, trying to defend his store, not wanting any men, especially strange foreign men, hiding in it to take cover from the gunfire and activity in the streets. The shotgun had been heavy in the man’s hand. One shot rang out, and Ghost had signaled forward with his hand, Soap’s knife embedding itself in the man’s neck before another shell casing clattered emptily against the floor.

Or the soldier, who’d probably been drafted or forced, or maybe even joined when he had been young and dreamed of glory, forced to fight an old man’s war. He hadn’t known the weight of taking a life yet, not when the bullet from Ghost’s sniper rifle tore through his head, body thudding against the floor, the family photo tucked into his pocket not enough to protect him when it mattered.

It was all the same to him.

Get the job done. Go home. Live another day and wait for your next mission.

That was how it had always been. But it didn’t mean the nightmares weren’t any better, that he didn’t feel any less bit of nagging guilt for the orphaned children, the grieving families, the war-raised countries feeding the newest generations hatred and violence, how to pull a trigger and not how to be a decent human being.

It was worse tonight.

He’d woken, cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck, limbs tensing and relaxing rapidly as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was in the house. One window on the left wall, a door on the right one.

Price’s home.

The older man had offered him a place to stay while on leave, knowing that Simon usually just lurked at the base even when he could leave. He knew he had nowhere to go.

So he’d invited him out to a little house in the countryside, to stay for the three months they were both off. It hadn’t been terrible. Homemade meals, cooking, and cleaning up the house. He’d learned a thing or two about fixing leaky sink pipes, changing bulbs, fixing creaky doors and floorboards, and cleaning, and the fact that cooking bacon was a lot more terrifying than it looked, the grease popping up onto his arms and burning what skin wasn’t already numb.

It didn’t help that it hurt like hell.

Price was teaching him everything he’d somehow not picked up from his mother, things his father hadn’t even bothered trying to teach him, and no matter how much his older brother had cleaned up his life, he still hadn’t shown him any of this either.

Simon pushed the covers to one side of the bed, slipping out and letting his feet land against the cold floor. He began approaching the door, twisting the knob, stepping out, and walking down the hallway, legs carrying him to the kitchen for whatever reason. Probably muscle memory. He made a trip to the kitchen every time he woke up or couldn’t sleep.

A small thudding sound came from one of the rooms that had him whirling, stance shifting into a defensive one, and he realized that Gaz and Soap had decided to stay here a few nights too, probably feeling lonely on leave.

Sighing, he turned back and continued towards the kitchen, flicking one dimmer light on before grabbing a cup from a cabinet and filling it with water, draining the entire thing in one large gulp.

“What’re you doin’ up?”

It caught him completely off guard, almost embarrassingly so for the occupation he had. Price’s low, scratchy voice settling into the room.

He put the cup down. Turned.

Price looked like he’d just gotten up as well, hair a bit disheveled, only in some boxers, blue eyes bleary and filled with sleep still. He raised a brow, and Simon remembered the question all too suddenly.

“Nightmares.”

He answered abruptly, trying and failing to hide the slight tremble in his voice. The tremble that was also in his hand.

Price grunted in response, grabbing a cup, filling it with water from the sink, and gulping it down, eyes elsewhere, thinking about something. Like a less intense version of his scheming face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

No. He didn’t.

It was the same as any other nightmare. Blood, death, bombs, guns, grenades, war. What was there to even talk about?

But for some reason, his tongue betrayed him.

“I..”

The word slipped out instead of the usual flat no. He saw his Captain’s surprise and slight curiosity. It was hard not to.

He stood there like an idiot, not sure what to say, throat drying up as he grabbed his cup again, the movement to fill it and swallow the water almost mechanical.

“I don’t know.”

He concluded, walls being built back up, hiding him away again. But Price wasn’t having it. He could tell.

A small nod from his Captain. His lips separated, and he expected the usual statements of pity of sorries, or the empty justifications or assurances, but instead got something he never would’ve expected.

“I’m ordering you a tactical cuddle, Ghost. Recon in my bed at 2300 hours.”

He was left there, speechless, as Price gave his order, and then walked back to his room.

He checked the clock that was always a bit fast and sat on the kitchen wall. He had two minutes before the official “Recon” at the bed.

Taking another swig of water, he figured that he had an order; and he would damn well see it through as he began walking to Price’s room down the hall, slowly pushing the door open, walking in, closing it behind him as his eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, and feeling around till his feet hit the corner if what felt like a bed frame.

“There you are,”

Price murmured as Simon finally found the bed, knees meeting the mattress first as he crawled in, laying down awkwardly with his stiff limbs and tense muscles. Price’s warm, broad hand found his bicep before it slid down to his side right near his ribs. He heard the man shift, pulling some blankets over Simon, before another hand wrapped around him on his other side, gently wrapping around him as Price’s warm chest met his scarred back.

The thudding from the other room was steady against the wall and had him on edge before he finally figured out exactly what was going on in the room over.

“Those muppets, going to town on each other like we aren’t right here.”

Price muttered, making a little huff of laughter leave Simon before he realized something.

Simon Riley had hardly been held before, the only time being when he was a baby. It felt safe and warm like he didn’t have to worry about how many magazines or clips he had left, or the scope he was using, or the exfil, or friendlies versus the enemy. He was safe.

And as Price’s hands began gently rubbing into his skin, making him melt into his superior’s touch, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, his touch wasn’t so rotten at all.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

[pureblisswrites]

A guide to accidental murder and cover up 101

"Because then I'll have to kill you." He whispered in that scary, serious voice of his. You knew by now that he was probably just joking again.

"Can you not joke about killing me all the time?" You rolled your eyes.

"Who said I was joking?"

Pairing: Uni Student! Reader x Hwang Hyunjin

Word count: 4k

Genre: Crime, mafia au, eventual romance, Rom-com (I hope)

Warnings: Attempted sexual assault although nothing graphic, unintentional murder, general blood and gore descriptions, minor character death, criminal activities

Summary: You didn't think you'll become a murderer on a particularly slow night at the convenience store while trying to complete your uni essay that was due tomorrow. And you definitely didn't think an angel of a man would help you clean up the crime scene out of nowhere. Did people this kind really still exist in the world? Spoiler alert: Of course not. Because the reason he's helping you goes far deeper than the kindness of his heart.

This story takes place in the same universe as "A guide to being kidnapped and escaping 101" but with a different reader. I suggest you can read that too if these kind of stories are your type. But both can be read as standalones too.

You were in deep.

Like a million feet deep in a dark, cold ocean. That's why you felt like you couldn't breathe at all. That's why water was leaking from your eyes like a never ending waterfall. That's why you couldn't see anything past the salty tears and everything was blurry, you didn't know if it was your eyes or the world. You hoped for the latter but felt it would be the former, and it was.

It was an accident. A mistake. You didn't mean to do it. No, you wouldn't have ever done something like this even in your dreams much less in real life. You had just murdered someone.

It had all happened so quickly, you didn't have time to process anything. One minute you were trying to type your essay on playwriting and dramaturgy that was due tomorrow on your phone on a particularly slow night in the convenience store, the next you were getting the man jelly beans from the third aisle that apparently his daughter loved and the next minute he was pushing you into the wall, trying to take your clothes off. You panicked. As one does...you think? No one ever taught how to deal with a situation like this in school. You wanted to mock Mrs Lee now who had told you maths would help you in every situation, sure it will. You just flailed your hands, took the can opener from the desk and stabbed it into his neck.

It was a sight you never wanted to see again. Blood spurting from his throat, him choking on his own blood and trying to say something you couldn't make out even if you tried. He struggled for two minutes you think, for you it felt like two decades. You had never seen this much blood. Ever. And finally, he fell back on the floor knocking the milk cartons. Great now you'll have to arrange those again. What the fuck? Were you thinking about milk cartons right now? Really? Yeah you were.

You knew it'll take you some time for you to process this, start crying properly and think rationally. Till then you had to clean this puddle of blood. The metallic smell was slowly starting to take over you senses. You felt so dizzy. Taking a bottle of bleach and scrubs from the fifth aisle you started scrubbing the blood before it dries, or atleast tried to.

You totally did not forgot to turn the open sign on the door to closed and someone totally wasn't standing in front of you looking at you trying to clean a murder scene, your mind tried to convince you.

You looked up to see probably the most beautiful man to walk on this earth. His eyes were a bit wide but definitely not wide enough for someone who was looking at a crime scene for the first time. Shit he was a police officer or detective, wasn't he?

"Uh, hi... Can I help you?" You mentally facepalmed for asking this question in such a situation.

"Looks like you need more help than me right now." He stated simply. He walked towards you and plucked out a chocolate bar from the stand beside you. "That bleach you're using won't remove the stains completely. Do you have any oxygen producing detergents here?" He asked while unwrapping the chocolate.

He seemed causal about this. Too causal. Like he just walked in his friend's get together party instead of a place where there was a crime scene. You know you should be alarmed as to why he isn't alarmed or maybe why does he have this knowledge but you think you're not in the position to be asking questions right now. Maybe he's a medical student or something? That's plausible.

When you just looked at him without saying anything, he understood that you didn't understand anything he said. "Do you have any detergents like vanish or something around here?" He asked in simpler language, now taking a bite from the chocolate. You nodded standing up to get it.

He was looking around like he was searching for something so you asked "Do you need anything?"

"Nah. Just looking for security cameras." He answered while going to the door and turning the sign to "closed" and closing the blinds.

"We don't have those here." You said.

"Is that so?" He asked squinting at the mirror behind the cashier's desk, your desk. He touched his finger on the mirror and looked behind it. You didn't know what he was doing so you turned to scrubbing the stains again. By now the bleeding from the man's neck had almost stopped and the puddle had gotten bigger.

"Gotcha." He whistled. Just as you were about to ask what did he get, he took the paperweight from the desk and smashed it in the mirror.

"Are you fucking insane!?" You exclaimed. Did he just break Mr Choi's favourite mirror? Yes he did. Did he just double the mess you'll have to clean up now? Yes he fucking did.

"Might be." He took out a little circular chip with a beeping red light on it. The red light died slowly as he crushed it under the weight of his long fingers "Who's the owner of this store? Jaehyun Choi right?" He asked.

"Jaewon Choi." You corrected.

"Yeah, yeah. Same thing. That man is a bastard. How did you even believe he didn't put a camera here" He chuckled without any humor. What was his deal? "Anyways, who are you?"

"Why? Are you gonna go to the police?" You sincerely asked. You were worried but honestly you wouldn't mind if you got arrested. You knew you had done something very terrible and you were tired of scrubbing. You were really sleep deprived and you had to finish your theatre assignment that was due tomorrow. Prison didn't seem like a particularly bad option right now.

He chuckled again "Honey, if I wanted to go to the police I would've done that by now don't you think?"

"I guess so." You shrugged. Thinking that things were already bad and couldn't get any worse than this, you decided to answer his question. "I'm a student in the uni nearby. I've been working here for about 3 months part time to uh... pay rent."

He hummed. "What major are you?"

"Theatre."

"Funny. I've got a friend there too." He shrugged opening the locked drawers with a freaking paperclip of all things...wait what was he opening the drawers Mr Choi has specifically told you to not touch? He was. And then he took out some papers out, folded them and put them in his winter coat's pocket. You had given up on trying to make sense of whatever he was doing or whatever was happening.

"Are...are you a medical student or something?" He laughed at that. Like actually laughed out loud.

"Do I look like a medical student?" He genuinely asked.

"I don't know, I mean that's why you know so much about...detergents right?" You look at him expectantly to confirm your theory but when he doesn't say anything and just looks at you like you've got devil horns on your head which who knows maybe you did it's not like you just killed someone right? You know you're a bit too far off from the reality. "You aren't a student then, are you?" You ask again searching for any answer as to who was this kind man that stumbled upon you and was now pretty much helping you clean up a fucking murder scene.

"Nope." He answers biting his lower lip like he's trying to hide his smile. Now that you look, his lips are really pretty. Just an observation.

"So wait...wait are you like a serial killer that actually knows how to cover up crime scenes and you aren't phased by this body and blood here-" you gesture to the puddle of blood there "because you're used to it and now you're going to kill me, oh my god, are you going to kill me? Can you just do it already because if I clean all this up and then you kill me it wouldn't be of any use. Like first of all, there would be blood all over here again. Secondly, my efforts would be rendered useless like why am I even cleaning this up if I'm just gonna die and thirdly, how awful and kinda ironic it would be that I covered up a murder only to get murdered myself after that." You gasp for breath after the long rant you'd just finished.

"Actually no, there wouldn't be blood all over here again. Who says you need to make a mess of blood to kill someone?" You looked at him in horror and he laughed again. "I'm kidding. Don't you think I would've already murdered you by now if I wanted to?" He grinned looking you in the eyes.

"I guess so. So you aren't...a murderer right?" You questioned again just to confirm.

"Not exactly." He smirked.

"So then...who are you?"

"Is it really that important to know? C'mon let's help you get rid of this body now." He stated as casually as if he was telling a weather forecast. You stand there in shock. Not being able to comprehend how this saint of a man had stumbled in your life at the best possible moment. "Hey don't just stand there. I'm strong sure but not enough to carry this man all by myself. Give me a hand will you?" He gestured for you to help him carry the man. Oh right.

"Where do we have to carry him though?" You question stumbling on your feet while holding the disgusting and now dead man's hands while the stranger held him by the ankles and walked backwards until he reached the door and pushed it open with his back.

"Oh just till that car." He gestured with his eyes to a freaking Tesla of all things.

"Um who's car is that?" You ask dumbfounded.

"Well you already have a crime on your record, wouldn't wanna add grand theft auto too. So it's mine for the night. Don't worry your pretty head too much about it, yeah?"

"Yours for the night? So like it isn't actually yours? What do you mean?" You ask stupidly. Like sure maybe interrogating such an angel like him who was essentially saving you from a life in prison wasn't a good move but you did not feel like yourself since the moment the can opener entered that man's throat.

"Jeez you ask a lot of questions don't you? It's a friend's." He sounded annoyed but still had a slight smile on his face. He opened the back seat door and you threw the man in there, quite literally at that. He then opened the door of the front seat and looked at you expectantly. "You coming or what?"

Well now it's not that you didn't learn about stranger danger in school like the rest of the human population. Problem is you had just killed someone, something not a lot of human population does. So it's not like you had a choice either. Because telling this fine gentleman to get rid of the body you murdered by himself wouldn't be very nice now would it? So you decided to go, also he had already said he would've murdered you by now if he wanted to. You also thought that he would've done the thing that the man tried to do with you by now if he wanted to and wouldn't be helping you. Although you still didn't understand why he was even helping you in the first place.

"Wait let me just lock the store." You ran to the store to get the keys not noticing him following you. Just as you took the keys from the cashier's desk and turned you saw him taking a bunch of snacks and food items from the shelves. He looked at you with both arms full and raised an eyebrow as to ask 'what'? "So, um are you gonna pay for this?" You ask. As much as you were in debt of this man, you couldn't afford to add two crimes in a night to your record. A murder charge was enough you didn't need an extra accomplice in robbery charge too.

"Seriously?" He rolled his eyes.

"I mean, you do know this a crime right?" Okay so maybe you were being stupid at the moment but can someone blame you? They try murdering a creepy man and see what happens to their critical thinking skills.

"Woah really? I never would've guessed!" He gasped dramatically. "Thank you so much for telling me, kind lady. How may I repay you?" He marveled with wide eyes while doing a dramatic bow making all the snacks he was carrying scrunch as they came in contact with his chest. His dark, slightly long hair fell into his eyes while he got back up and grinned at his own joke.

"Ok. That's enough. I'll just pay for you. I don't wanna account to Mr Choi for the missing snacks. Just let me get the total." You asked him while fishing for your purse in your pockets.

"You're a real funny one, you know that?" He laughed as though you had made a joke that you yourself were unaware about. "C'mon you don't need to pay. I'll explain in the car. It's going to be a long journey." He stated drawing out the o of long an obnoxious amount.

Thinking that you couldn't argue with this odd man you followed him out and locked the store.

"Open this up for me, will you?" He gestured towards the trunk which was strangely in the front of the car. You opened it up and he emptied his hands. "You know, this is called a frunk. Front and trunk get it? Isn't that neat?" He mentioned.

"Uh, yeah, Sure is." You awkwardly agreed and went to the front seat.

"Uh-uh sweetheart, stop right there" he exhorted. "Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I don't even open the door for you?" He walked towards you and opened the door.

"Uh thanks I guess?" You sat down almost hitting your head against the roof.

"You're welcome sweetheart." He winked and got in the driver's seat all the while whistling to himself. Was all this not even a bit weird to him? How did he even know what to do with a dead body of all things? All kinds of different questions were swarming in your head when he finally spoke after half an hour of driving or so. "Stop overthinking that much. You're gonna give yourself a headache." He said while chuckling.

"Are you speaking from experience?" You asked quietly still looking out of the window at the tall buildings which were now looking like little amber fireflies from this high up. You guessed you were near a mountain or something. You weren't sure though, neither did you care at this point.

"Maybe." He answered swerving the car effortlessly at the narrow route.

"So uh care to explain why you are trying to get me fired?" You finally questioned.

"I am trying to get you fired? Excuse me?" He said as if he was seriously offended.

"I mean you did steal a bunch of things and didn't even let me pay didn't you?"

"Oh honey, let me tell you something. You were fired the moment you killed that man." He whispered as if he was telling you a secret.

"Wha- what do you mean? You destroyed the camera right? I can just make up something about thieves breaking in and doing all that. There's no evidence so why would I get fired?" You questioned while panicking a bit. This job was one of the limited jobs that aligned with your uni schedule and you didn't had to work super hard for. All the other jobs in late night cafes and other stores were already taken up by other students. You don't think you'll be able to get another job as convenient after this one.

"You're so naive you know that? Your little owner has live footage of every single place he owns. I just destroyed the recorded one. Chances are he already knows about what you've done by now and is probably sending his men over. Especially after seeing me there. He must be losing his marbles after that." He snickered as if he made the funniest joke a homosapien could think of.

"I don't understand you for the most part but mainly you're saying the I'm fired right? And Mr Choi knows I'm a fucking murderer?"

"Essentially yeah." He agreed before continuing "But you're not really a murderer, right?"

"Um not right. I quite literally killed someone." You sniffled. Still determined to not cry until that body is no more. Even though you didn't think you even deserved to cry.

"So what? You just killed someone. That doesn't make you a murderer. A killer is someone who kills, whether by intent or not. A murderer is someone who kills with a motive in mind. You didn't mean to kill that guy, it just happened. Even though he definitely deserved it. If you knew even half the things that asshole has done, you wouldn't even care that you killed him."

"I doubt that." You rolled your eyes at him. How could he even think you wouldn't care after taking the life of someone? Sure he wasn't a good person. But now what about his daughter? What if she was still waiting for the jelly beans he was meant to get her? "I'm sure his daughter would care that I killed him." You whispered in a small voice, not trusting your voice right now.

"What daughter?" He asked as if he was genuinely confused. "He doesn't have a daughter. If he said that to you, he was lying."

Well now that was shocking. "Are- are you sure?"

"Do you seriously still doubt me?" He rolled his eyes with more force than necessary.

"Well then what about a wife? Or a significant other or something you know?" You just wanted to know that no one would be affected as much by his death. Maybe it was selfish for you to do so.

"I mean he does have a wife. But she runs an illegal organ trafficking business. So I wouldn't feel too bad for her if I were you."

Alright so this was more shocking. You were too stunned to speak. Who even were these people? And wait how did he know about all these? He wasn't involved in any organ trafficking businesses right? There was only one way to find out. "So not to offend you or anything but are you too, perhaps, I don't know... involved in such things?" Your question was full of hesitation and he probably knew that too from your tone.

"Yes. And I'm looking for the perfect moment to strike and take your eyes out with a can opener." He didn't crack a smile at that and looked dead serious, not even blinking and just looking straight at the dark road ahead. He looked so scary, for the first time that night.

"You should've just done that before I cleaned all that blood then." You said solemnly. Was this going to be the way you die? With your eyes scooped out with a can opener? On a pitch black, uninhabited mountain? You were on the verge of crying when he laughed again.

"You didn't think that I was actually being serious right?" His eyes crinkled into twin crescent moons, the same as the one you could see up in the inky sky from the side mirror of his car.

"Yeah I did actually." You whispered to yourself as he continued to laugh. "So you don't do that organ stuff right?" You asked again, just to be sure.

"God no! That's too grotesque even for us. We're more into strategic businesses if you know what I mean."

"I don't know what you mean." You replied. Who were 'us'? What even was a 'strategic business'? Did he work in finance or something? Probably not.

"It's okay. I'd rather not tell you."

"Why?" The question slipped your mouth before you had the chance to stop it.

"Because then I'll have to kill you." He whispered in that scary, serious voice of his. You knew by now that he was probably just joking again.

"Can you not joke about killing me all the time?" You rolled your eyes.

"Who said I was joking?" He looked at you instead of the road just as you felt the whole car vibrate staggeringly.

"What the fuck was that!?" You panicked.

"Uh just a big rock or something." He shrugged.

"Well then maybe can you pay attention to the road instead of staring at me creepily at random times!?" You shouted.

"Jeez calm down. I already knew we couldn't avoid the rock. It was too huge. So I just let it be. And it's called gazing alright, not 'creepily staring'."

He explained calmly while wrapping the hand at the back of your seat and driving with only one freaking hand. And he looked so relaxed too for some reason.

Oh okay so he was parking the car in between two huge trees. "We're here. Come on." You followed him out of the car and you could see a bright place up ahead. You could also hear the sound of fire crackling.

"Gosh I really don't wanna go near that asshole's feet again. They stink so bad." He gagged dramatically. His personality honestly gave you whiplash. You both reluctantly carried the man into the warehouse-like building which burned brighter than your future.

"Come on just leave him here." He threw the man on the cobblestone ground and started walking back to the car leaving you utterly confused. "You coming or what?" He looked back at you as he noticed you not following him.

"A- aren't we supposed to do anything?" You questioned while glancing between the body and him.

He sighed deeply and walked back to you. "Do you want to see that man's body burn in above a 1000 degree celsius?" He questioned you while grabbing both of your shoulders. You shook your head in a silent 'no'. "That's what I thought." He smiled at you again and walked you back towards the car with a hand wrapped around your shoulders.

"Won't the police know anything?" You questioned ten minutes into the drive.

"Not a chance sweetheart." He winked at you shifting his gaze from the road towards you for the umpteenth time that night while you looked out of the window at the dark trees with a blank stare.

"Won't Mr Choi report me to the police if he knows I killed someone?"

"Unless he's an absolute idiot, no he won't. Besides he doesn't even have any evidence against you. But trust me, he won't even go to the police in the first place. Just don't go around that store now for a few days, alright?"

"Are you sure his body will be gone?"

"Absolutely. Now that we're down the mountain, there are absolutely no traces of the crime you accidentally committed tonight." So that man really was gone huh? Because of you?

"Thank you." Your voice barely coming out.

"Why are you thanking me? I should be thanking you." He chuckled. What?

"Uh what?" Your throat hurt from how hoarse your voice was.

"I mean, you did kill my target for me so thanks I guess. Although I would've gotten the job done far more cleanly. Obviously. We wouldn't even need to go all the way up there. Just one touch and he would've gotten a heart attack then and there. But it's fine I don't blame you, it was your first kill after all!" He exclaimed as if that was a good news. "So now... my place or yours?"

The news didn't even phase you anymore. You looked at the neon digital clock in the car as it showed 4:27 a.m. in block letters. You definitely wouldn't be able to make it to uni today. You hadn't even completed your essay on playwriting and dramaturgy that was due today. And finally you burst into tears for the second time that night.

"My place it is then." 

A/N: If you've made it this far, thanks a lot for reading. Any kind of feedback and comments are much much appreciated!

[archangeldyke-all]

hello there... I'm super late to the party as I just binge watched Arcane like two days ago and I am FERAL for sevika, I have a problem honestly...anyways firefighter!sevika and nurse!reader or doctor!reader has been floating around my brain, like imagine how nervous you get when she gets called to a massive fire and how worked up she gets when you have to attend a really bad trauma scenario (something greys anatomy worthy) omggg the overprotective vibes are killing me

welcome to the sevika sphere!! i'm gonna change reader to an EMT because i know a bit more about that than i do nursing or doctoring, hope that's okay! also... this is not accurate at all to how any of these kinds of operations or protocols go but whatever

men and minors dni

you work on different sides of town so while you're always interacting with firefighters on calls, you don't meet sevika for a while.

but when a factory fire breaks out on sevika's side of town, all available units in the city are called over to help.

you meet her there, and it's like a movie scene.

she jogs out of the flames, a man slung over her shoulder, dramatically pulling her helmet off and shaking her hair out of her face. for a second, time slows down. then she's dropping the man on the gurney in front of you for you to start administering oxygen, and everything speeds back up again.

the two of you don't talk until the fire's out and all the injured have been shipped off to the hospital. the fire chief is chatting with the factory manager, your boss is talking through the radio to dispatch.

"haven't seen you around before." a voice speaks up beside where you're loading up the truck. you look up at sevika, free from her protective gear, in a form fitting t shirt and cargo pants, grime on her face. you smile.

"i work on the other side of town." you say, cracking open a water bottle and taking a sip.

"that's a shame. was hopin' i'd see you around more often." she says with a pout. you choke.

sevika gets your number after you stop sputtering.

you two click instantly. she takes you out for a casual coffee that weekend, but you talk for so long that coffee becomes dinner which becomes a hookup at sevika's place.

gossip travels fast, but it travels even faster among first responders, and you come into work on monday to cat calls and congratulations on your new 'figherfighter girlfriend'

when you ask sevika if she had used those specific words with her friends, she just shrugged and asked if that was okay.

since then the two of you have been inseparable.

it's usually you who wakes up in the middle of the night scared out of your mind that one day sevika just won't come home from work.

sevika's had several close calls and one near death miss since the two of you got together. (the near death miss inspired sevika to propose to you. she woke up from her coma asking for you and the second you arrived, she choked out the words, 'marry me?' you guys eloped the same week she was discharged from the hospital)

sometimes sevika will come home from work and you'll be so relieved to see her you burst into tears.

you often tune into the dispatch radio on your off days, listening for her engine number and their status. sometimes, if you're lucky, you can even hear her voice.

so usually, you're the worried spouse.

tonight it's different.

tonight you get called to an active hostage situation, on standby to treat the hostages when they are released, whether it be peacefully or with police fire. you hope it will be peaceful. gunshot wounds are a lot of work, and you've had a long shift already.

you don't have to worry about that for long, though, because when your truck pulls up as first on the scene, the three cop cars that arrived moments before you are riddled with bullets, all of the officers incapacitated inside.

lacy, your boss and driver, curses as she pulls up on the scene. Beside her in the passenger seat, toya is rambling codes into the radio, alerting dispatch of the scene you've driven up on. "i count five officers down." toya says.

a clear calm settles over you, the same calm that always guides you in these moments. your mind focuses on protocol, emotion secondary to your eyes flickering over the scene. "six." you say to toya. "six down. two dead, four severely injured. passenger and driver in five have abdomen wounds." you say, pointing to squad car five ahead of you. you move your finger to the left. "twenty two's driver is dead, shot in the head, but his passenger is alive. i can see her moving. can't make out any injuries." you point to the final car. "driver is alive in seventeen, but unconscious. his passenger's dead."

you move as you speak, grabbing your kit and tossing toya hers. you can't leave the vehicle until more police arrive, but the adrenaline is building in your body, your hands shaking and feet tingling, ready to hit the ground running.

somewhere down the street, sirens begin wailing. you and toya sigh in relief, only to scream when a gunshot rings out and the windsheild shatters.

another shot rings out, the back door lock of the ambulance pulverized by a bullet, and the doors swing open as you, lacy, and toya turn to face your attacker.

"out of the truck now!" the masked man screams. you gulp, following his directions with your hands in the air. the three of you jump out of the truck. "you!" the man points his gun at you. you freeze. "you want your friends to live?" he asks. you nod. he points toward the bank he'd just ran out from. "come on." he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and walking you toward the bank, keeping his gun aimed at lacy and toya.

you follow him. shock is the only thing keeping you calm. just as the door slams behind you, three squad cars come peeling up the street, arriving at the scene. you let out a breath of relief that lacy and toya are safe now.

"i got one!" the man behind you shouts into the bank, leading you to the back of the building and into a conference room. inside, you count twelve hostages, and three more gunman. one is on the floor, clutching his side, bleeding through his fingers. "i got one, boss." your captor says as he shoves you forward. you blink, gulp, then launch into action.

"i need space." you choke out as you crouch beside the bleeding man. you help him lay horizontially, slinging your bag off your shoulder. "i need an assistant." you say looking up at your captor. he nods. "do you want it to be one of your guys or one of the hostages?" you ask, trying to keep your voice level and calm. you focus on pulling on a clean pair of gloves. you don't think beyond that.

"one of my guys."

"are they gonna be able to keep their temper in check if i tell 'em what to do or are they gonna shoot me? 'cause if you shoot me your boss is shit out of luck." the man hovering above you considers this, then nods to the group of hostages on the ground. you address them.

"do any of you know any basic first aid?" an old man raises a shaky hand. you nod him over. "what's your name?" you ask him as he crawls over to you.

"j-j-j-jerry." he stutters out.

"okay jerry, put these gloves on." you hand him a pair of gloves. "and take a minute to take some deep breaths. you're okay. i need you focused--not shaky." you say. the man nods, pulling his gloves on and taking deep, meditative breath. you begin slicing open the man's shirt.

he's been shot through the stomach and from what you can make out, the bullet is still lodged inside. he's bleeding steadily, but not profusely enough for an artery wound, which is good.

"jerry, you're my hand-it guy, okay? when i need something, i'm gonna tell you what it looks like and where you can find it in my bag, and you're gonna hand it to me. got it?" you ask. he nods. you nod back at him. "good. main pocket in a white paper package there's some gauze. get that." you say to jerry. then you look down at the man beneath you.

"hello sir, me and my friend jerry here are going to be helping you out tonight. what's your name?" you ask the groaning man.

"i'm not giving you my name, you pig." he grunts out. you sigh. jerry presses the gauze in your hands.

"i'm not a cop." you grunt out as you begin sopping up blood from the man's stomach. he flips you off. "whatever. how long has it been since he was shot?" you ask the man standing behind you, still pointing a gun at your head. he falters.

"five minutes, maybe? since those cops got here." he says. you nod.

"alright. well, you got two options. if you think you guys are gonna be outta here soon, i recommend option one, which is me stuffing his wound and applying pressure. he'll bleed out eventually, but not if we get him to a hospital in time, which me and my friends can do with our ambulance." the man grunts at you to continue. you nod.

"option two is I take the bullet out and cauterize the wound. it's gonna hurt worse than getting shot, there's a chance he'll die of shock, but if we do it right we can buy him an hour or two." you say. the man above you curses. his masked friends anxiously titter. a phone on the wall rings.

"fuck!" he shouts, storming over to answer the phone.

"you need to give me an answer!" you call after him. "gauze." you say to jerry.

"give me a second!" he shouts. he answers the phone. "hello." he says. on the other line, a negotiator speaks. you soak up more blood with gauze.

"i need an answer!" you shout at the man.

"shut the fuck up!" he shouts at you. he heaves a breath, then speaks into the receiver. "unless you can promise us a getaway van and immunity, we're not fuckin leavin'!"

fuck. he's going rogue. the police are gonna come barging in, guns-a-blazing, and these stupid fuckers are dumb enough to try killing hostages. for a second, you break, an image of sevika waiting at home for you flashing through your mind. she's making her chili and corn bread tonight. what if you don't get to taste it?

"miss?" jerry asks, gently nudging your shoulder. you snap back to reality, taking the gauze from his hands and pressing it against the steadily bleeding wound. the man below you is delirious, fading in and out of consciousness as he loses more and more blood.

"fuckin' stitch him up. we're not leaving." your original captor says to you.

it takes four more captives to hold him down as you cauterize the wound. you do it with a thin metal rod and a blowtorch-- provided to you by your captors from their lock breaking kit. as the rod heats up, you sanatize the wound.

"the tiny in the inner pocket, the long pliers." you demand. jerry finds them in a flash, handing them over to you. "hold him down." you say to the four hostages.

when you fish the bullet out, he wakes up, groaning in pain.

"stop-- stooooop! please stooop!" he screams. a hostage still sitting against the wall vomits. you continue digging.

"sir focus on your breathing, we're doing this to keep you alive." you speak down at him calmly. he spits at you. you break a second time, anger and fear overpowering you for a flash as you dig your instrument against the tender torn flesh of his side. he passes out again. serves him right.

with the man unconscious, the process is much smoother. you pull the bullet out in one piece, tossing it beside you on the floor. the rod is red hot when you press it into his wound, a sizzling filling the air as his skin bubbles and burns. jerry leans over to throw up at the smell.

you've never done this before-- and this certainly isn't the proper way to do it. but with a gun to the back of your head you do the best you can guess with your preliminary medical knowledge and available resources.

it's a success... in the sense that the man is still breathing. the wound isn't bleeding nearly as profusely, but it's still sluggishly spurting from time to time. his chest is sweaty and pale. the hostages who were helping you are traumatized and shaking.

the phone rings again.

"you done?" your original captor--the new boss with the old one unconscious--asks you. you nod. he answers the phone.

"hello?" he asks. you can make out the muffled voice of the negotiator on the other line. a gunman moves you and your five hostage assistants to sit against the wall.

with nothing to do but sit, your focused haze begins to fade. you become aware of your body, no longer on autopilot. your mind starts thinking again, thoughts about what's going on outside, toya and lacy and if they're okay, and then sevika.

you choke. oh fuck, no, don't think of sev. don't think of sev or else you're gonna start crying. god is this what she feels like, trapped inside a burning building? this hopeless sense of dread? this debilitating desire to see your wife one more time?

jerry nudges you. "you good?" he whispers. you gasp, reaching out to grab his hand.

"i have a wife." you say to him. he squeezes your hand.

"she'll be happy to see you when this is all over." he says. you nod.

"how about you?"

"three kids. they're old enough to take care of themselves... hell, one of them's expecting their own baby in december," he says, laughing. "but i'm still not ready to leave 'em." he says.

"do i need to shoot a hostage!? what do you people not understand about FULL IMMUNITY?" the masked man on the phone screams. a woman beside you faints. "matter of fact-- i got one of your own in here? ain't that right officer?" the man asks, looking at you. you blink.

"i'm not a co--"

"you want another cop dead? i know i got at least two of 'em out front! you wanna make it three?" he asks. silence follows as the negotiator speaks. your heart is in your ass.

"listen. my wife's name is sevika. if this goes bad, you need to tell her i love her. you need to-- you need to tell her i'm never gonna leave her side. tell her i'll always love her and--"

"you're not gonna die, miss." jerry cuts you off.

"but if i do!" you say, pleading with the man beside you. "if i do you have to tell her--"

"i will." jerry says, nodding. "i will." he promises.

"they wanna talk to you." the masked man rasps out, looking at you. you blink.

"i'm not a cop." you say. he rolls his eyes.

"tell it to them." he says, gesturing you over to the landline. you stumble to your feet, shakily approaching him. his finger is on the trigger of his gun at his side, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. you look to jerry. he crosses his heart. you take the phone.

"hello?" you shakily speak into the receiver.

"is this lacy's missing crewmate?" a voice asks over the line. you take a shaky breath.

"yeah." you say.

"what's the situation inside?"

"twelve hostages, thirteen including me. one man down, gunshot to his chest. i patched him up best i could."

"he's one of the captors?"

"yes."

"and how many are there?"

"four." you say.

it's silent for a moment, the negotiator likely speaking to someone else. you can hear the faint chatter on the other side of the line, police barking instructions, sirens sounding, reporters demanding questions. "are any hostages hurt?" the voice asks suddenly.

"no. one just passed out, but i think it's just shock." you say. silence again. you take a breath, trying to focus on staying calm. over the line you hear people scream and tires screeching. there's a faint commotion, then, a distant voice.

where the fuck is she? where the fuck is she!? get off of me-- where is she??

you'd recognize that voice anywhere. it's sevika.

you burst into tears.

"are you alright ma'am?" the negotiator asks. when their voice quiets, you can make out various curses and threats sevika throws out as people try to subdue her. you choke. the masked man beside you scoffs, then turns to speak to his partners.

"can you put her on the phone?" you whisper, your voice wobbly.

"what?" the negotiator and gunman ask at the same time. you wave the gunman off, pointing at the receiver. when he turns around, you turn around too.

"that woman causing a scene-- that's my wife. sevika. can you put her on the phone? please?" you beg, your whispered voice shaking. it's silent on the other line. "please!" you squeak.

silence.

then... "b-baby?" a shaky voice comes through. you gasp.

"sev." you whimper.

"baby, oh my god." she cries into the phone. "oh my god, are you okay?" she sobs. you shake, your hand coming out to catch yourself on the wall beside you.

"i love you." you whisper. "i love you and i'll never stop loving you, honey, even when i'm gone." you whisper. sevika gasps on the other line.

"don't say that!" she shouts.

"they-- they're talkin' about killing a hostage. they think i'm a cop. i don't think i'm gonna--"

"shut the fuck up!" sevika growls. you stop your hushed rambling. "you're gonna be fine, baby, i'm gonna see you real soon, okay?"

"sev--"

"say it!" she begs, her voice cracking. you weep.

"i-i-i'll see you soon, baby." you choke out.

"who the fuck are you talkin' to?" the masked man behind you asks. you freeze.

then the wall caves in.

you wake up on a gurney, swat members and paramedics running past you. there's a ringing in your head.

you look to your left. toya is grinning down at you.

"knew you'd fuckin' make it!" she says, giddily. you smile. you're dizzy in a fun way-- likely concussed. you blink asleep.

you wake up again outside, lacy nudging you awake. "no sleepin', kid." she commands as she takes your vitals. you nod.

"what..." you try. your brain's still rattling around in your skull. words aren't as easy as they usually are. toya understands you, though.

"swat blew the wall in and took those goons down! you and all the hostages are safe. you got the most damage-- rubble hit your head pretty hard." she explains as she shoves an IV into your arm. you blink.

"sevika?" you ask. lacy chuckles at your feet.

"what'd i tell you? second thing she asks is where's her wife. ridiculous." lacy says. toya rolls her eyes.

"baby!" sevika's voice calls from across the parking lot. your head whips over to see her, sprinting at the three of you at full speed, pushing a few people out of her way. you giggle when she shoves the cheif of police to the side-- he stumbles on his feet as he tries to catch his balance.

she's by your side in a flash, grinning down at you, tears running down her cheeks. you recognize the comforting warmth of morphine beginning to flood your veins. or maybe it's just love. you giggle up at her.

"hi, pretty." you say, lifting a hand up to cup her cheek. she shoots down to kiss you, nipping on your lip, shoving her tongue into your mouth. you giggle.

"i'm right here!" lacy grunts out. toya wolf whistles.

"i told you you'd be okay, didn't i?" sevika asks as she pulls away, her eyes locked on yours. you nod dreamily up at her, unsure of what she's even talking about, in love with her all the same.

"you're my wife." you say, amazed. toya and lacy burst out in laughter. even sevika giggles. "what's funny?" you pout up at her. she kisses you again.

"you're the most beautiful, smartest, sexiest person in the world." she says. she gives you another kiss. "i'm never letting you leave the house ever again." she presses a third kiss against your lips. "i love you so fucking much." she says, tears running down her cheeks.

you grin, happy to have your wife kissing you so passionately. you gently brush her tears away. "come here." you demand, scooting over in your gurney to make room for sevika. she laughs, and crawls in beside you, despite the protests lacy and toya shout out at her. she wraps herself around you, kissing you firmly on the forehead. "love you." you whisper.

"love you." she says back to you.

toya and lacy load the two of you in the back of the truck.

they fake gag the whole way to the hospital as you and sevika make out in the back.

taglist

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay

[bohemian-nights]

Swear Daemyra shippers are the only ones whom can look at a man teach his niece who at the time was a minor by real standards and fantasy standards sex acts, and say he loved her. I was reading a fic where Daemyra popped up in the background and they had Daemon say “I’ve loved Rhaenyra since the time she was a girl” and it’s like no shit. Then again in the show it’s just so…. Like I can acknowledge that Matt and Mily had chemistry (which would’ve been great for a book!Daemyra where he is very cleary a groomer) but even then all their scenes had an underlying pervy feel to them. Also Daemon is always ABANDONING Rhaenyra when it counts. Instead of staying with her after the death of her brother and mother he goes out drinking and makes the “heir for a day” comment. Then ( knowing Dragonstone is the seat reserved for the heir) he takes possession of Dragonstone (which also could’ve lowered her standing as heir) and the dragon egg that Rhaenyra placed in the cradle of Baelon. Then he leaves her alone for three years fighting in what was technically an illegal war before coming back and trying to ruin her reputation in order to attain the throne. He does this by taking her a crown Princess into a whore house, ensures that she will be recognized, engages in light sexual content with her before leaving her ALONE in a whore house half naked. And the worse part? Not a single fuck was given. Then later on at her wedding she practically begs him to take her to Dragonstone and marry her. In response to this he marries another woman (who he also treat like shit R.I.P to book!Daemon and Laena). Fast forward ten years where they (on the day of his wife’s funeral) have sex on the beach (sex that didn’t even look pleasurable) and she wakes up ALONE. Mind you prior to the sex she’s essentially begging him to fuck her as well. Following him around like a lost dog. Then we once again have the begging for marriage only this time he accepts. Fast forward down the line he’s not showing any support really in Kings Landing (why didn’t he go with Rhaenyra to talk to Rhaenys) but yeah he killed a man for her so the fandom ate that shit up. Back on Dragonstone she experiences a still brith where she calls out and begs for him so she won’t be alone and he just doesn’t come(I’ve seen some people excuse this staying maybe he had trauma from Laena so I’m 60/40 on it) and then upon learning that she doesn’t want to immediately jump to WAR he chokes the shit out of her.

Their fans are special.

Even if you want to take out the obvious grooming or only want to focus on book canon, Daemon still ends up abandoning her after she ordered him to return back to her, saving another woman(Nettles) after she ordered her to be beheaded in her sleep, and then either offs himself or lives out his days with Nettles.

How they turned that into Daemon died to defeat her greatest enemy(which the text specifically states is Daeron and not Aemond) will never not be absolutely hilariously.

If you only want to consider the show as canon(why?), he’s physically abused her (and is allegedly going to do so again) and abandoned her on countless occasions (after seeing her beg for him to love her 23 million times) with no concern for her physical or mental well-being.

(The trauma excuse is a poor one when he chokes her out 5 seconds later. That is not how you respond to trauma or your brother dying).

Book canon, show canon, grooming, no grooming, it doesn’t matter. It’s a hot mess any way you slice it(which is why they start crying when you bring out the actual text).

I get morally ambiguous ships(all but one of my favorite ships fall into this category). Still, I don’t get shipping something where the guy outright does not care about whether the woman lives or dies and then claiming that those who aren’t deluded are the crazy ones. This shit is straight up pathetic.

I’m all about ship what you want, but these are the same people calling characters the n-word and actively wanting a Black character to be cut cause she “gets in the way” of their ship so they use the excuse that there are already enough Black people on the show. So if this comes off harsh it’s because this ship attracts racist assholes who need psychiatric help on top of them being so fucking delusional they can’t see the forest from the trees.

[roseunspindle]

Lawrence being shocked about sex with Adam. Like, he was "the good kid" as a child then there was pre-med and med school. No time for much messing around.

Then he met Alison and their families approved, they liked each other and both came from slightly reserved affluent, possibly rich-people-religious so both have very very limited experience with sex beyond "married people do it" and "this is how you make babies"

Lawrence and Alison both suspect after many years of marriage that perhaps passion is missing.

Lawrence just put it aside as one does until Carla came onto him. For him it was like a lightbulb so he agrees to meet her for coffee... he craves something more and from observation this is how men at his time of life do this. Affairs with younger women right? (He ignores the part that points out his sexual interest in alison had been the same even when they were younger.)

He keeps putting Carla off. He's just waiting for the spark of want...right now he gets more of a "doing something kinda wrong" high having coffee with her than anything else. (Also for all he feels no passion for alison... he does still feel guilty... they are friends they had a child together.)

He turns Carla down in the end. He just...feels nothing. Just a vague "oh dear not another person to muster up something for."

He thought even to potentially being asexual but the itch and craving under his skin says otherwise..

Then comes the bathroom and a sarcastic wet rat of a man...

God watching him take those pills from that cigarette... even earlier staring at his exposed chest while the guy went on about kidneys...

He cuts off his foot and escapes though he passes out a few times. He thinks he hears adam scream again but he has to keep going. (He finds put layer that adam got to add the jigsaw killer himself, john kramer of all people, to his tally of rage kills. The man came a tiny bit to close to adam who choked the man to death with his chains.

(That shouldn't be hot but it is)

That is Lawrence's problem. He's never been distracted by Alison or Carla...sex was a requirement and activity to be scheduled and gotten over with.

Now...weeks after their release from the hospital and into their new domestic arrangement Lawrence has discovered "passion" and horniness and the utter distraction of wanting someone.

It's really almost upsetting. Adam of course seems delighted by this and does his best to worsen the problem.

[anyon-else]

I’m in Ruins, but it’s What I Wanted All Along (The Red Room pt.2) | Sakura is desperate for Kakashi to see that you’re not a threat, but you’re not making it very easy for him to believe her. Still, as much as he distrusts you, he trusts Sakura more. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naturo Uzumaki, Orochimaru, Dosu Kinuta, Hinata Hyuga, Kabuto Yakushi (mentioned)

Warnings | Descriptions of scars, threats of death, allusions to torture, abuse, choking (non-sexual), violence, discussion of themes present in Black Widow

Word count | 6.1k

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her grief was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.” 

Notes from an exhibition by Patrick Gale, page 36

Before he took over, Orochimaru had never imagined that HYDRA’s little pet project would grow into such a success.

The idea behind the Red Room was simple: women were less likely to be suspected of espionage than men. Women were more often thrown to the side, left with nothing and no one to care for them. The Red Room was created to solve this problem.

Orochimaru took all of his girls in when they were infants. Before him, they were unwanted—trash that he raised to be something important. Without him, they were nothing. After he took them in, they changed the world.

He gave them everything.

He took over for his senile predecessor when the program was expanding. Hundreds of girls were given to him by families who didn’t have the means to care for them. They believed in their country, and they believed in him as a guardian for their daughters.

Girls were an infinite resource. He was simply giving them a purpose.

And through them, he was creating an empire.

4 years ago, HYDRA Outpost

“Who is this?”

The room was a frenzy of flashing red lights and white-clad bodies. They shuffled past one another in their rush to collect anything classified and hurry out of the building. Orochimaru couldn’t say that he felt the same sense of urgency. What really interested him at the moment was the pink-haired girl who had just been carried in, unconscious and much older than his usual recruits. He wondered if he had been brought another defect and filed the thought away along with a reminder to kill whoever decided it would be a good idea to waste his time.

“Sakura Haruno, sir. We were moving her here, but we were intercepted. We thought we’d gotten rid of the threat, but it seems that we were followed.”

“Hm,” Orochimaru smiled, finally turning towards Kinuta. The boy was holding Sakura over his shoulder, fear-filled eyes wide as Orochimaru stared him down, “and tell me, how is it that you allowed yourself to be followed, compromising not one, but two of our bases?”

“S-sir, it’s Kakashi Hatake. She’s his student.”

Oh. That certainly changed things. He finally took a moment to look at the girl. She couldn’t have been younger than twelve, but he supposed that she would do fine. He could work with used materials.

“Hatake is here?”

The man was, for lack of a better descriptor, one of SHIELD’s most important assets. In his earlier years, he had completed missions with near-inhumane efficiency at a rate that not even seasoned agents had been able to match. However, he’d become less active as a field agent, and one of the primary reasons for that inactivity was being handed to him on a silver platter. 

“Yes sir, he came with a team of agents and another one of his students. They’ve already breached the building,” Kinuta swallowed, glancing back at the thick metal door separating them from the rest of the base. He could hear the familiar echo of bullets hitting steel walls, “should we let her go?”

“No,” Orochimaru grinned, ignoring the chaos outside and taking the girl from Kinuta. “I’ll see that she’s relocated. Go join the others, but do not tell them about the girl. Signal for evacuation, and call for a code black. We’re abandoning this place.”

“Sir–”

“Are you really going to make me repeat myself?” Orochimaru looked up from where he’d been staring down at Sakura, eyes bright with something between fury and ecstasy. “Go.”

Kinuta scrambled through the door, and for a moment Orochimaru could clearly hear his men dying at the hands of SHIELD’s dogs before the door slammed shut. When he looked back at Sakura, an involuntary laugh escaped his parted lips. She was delicate—almost fragile in his arms. By the time most of his girls were her age, they already had some muscle to compliment their immense skill. He needed to tell Kabuto to accelerate her training.

He imagined that Kakashi was about halfway through the compound by now. It would be a headache dealing with the death count as a result of this misstep, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. He was too wrapped up in his buzzing thoughts; this opportunity had dropped itself into his lap like a gift from the gods, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

“Now then,” he sighed, listening carefully as the gunshots got closer, “let’s get you home.”

Present day, SHIELD Compound

When you woke up in a cell, your immediate assumption was that everything you remembered had been a dream. It had happened enough times that the thought was easy enough to accept, but disappointment still ate at you. You tried to swallow it down, but all it did was leave a leave a sour taste in your throat.

You were so close. If that man and his little sidekick hadn’t interfered, you and Sakura would have gotten out. You would’ve been free–

It was a dream, you reminded yourself. It had to have been a dream. If it wasn’t, that meant you’d failed to save Sakura. It meant that she was still in the Red Room, likely being subjected to some kind of punishment for the escape attempt. The image of her at the hands of the Headmaster made bile rise in your throat. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. She’s fine. She’s still on her mission, away from the Headmaster. Away from the tests and the pain and the–

“Hey...are you awake?” 

You twitched at the unfamiliar voice. It sounded young—certainly younger than any of the HYDRA agents you were familiar with

Whoever it was shuffled towards the bars, close enough that their shoes scuffed against the metal.

Just a little closer...

You could hear him breathing now, as if he was peeking through the bars to try and get a closer look at you. When you opened your eyes, you searched his face for a split second before you shot up and grabbed his collar, yanking him forward with enough force that his head slammed against the metal. His eyes widened, one hand flying to his hip on instinct. You saw the slightest glint of a knife slipping from its sheath around his waist. With grit teeth and growing frustration, you kicked through the space between the bars, pinning his left hand to the concrete floor. His knife skid to the opposite side of the room, and you took slight satisfaction in his shocked expression. His surprise gave you enough time to grab his right arm, which was frozen in a defensive position. You trapped it against one of the bars and pressed his wrist back far enough that he understood it as warning. He winced, eyes wide as you ground harder into the hand trapped under your heel. 

“Is Sakura here?” you asked carefully. His panicked breaths quickened each second that he was restrained, but his eyes didn’t hold the fear that you expected to find in them.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, quick and nervous, “She’s here, alright? She’s fine! I just wanted to–”

“What are you doing to her?” you said through clenched teeth, hesitation forgotten. Fear swallowed you at his confirmation—you were right. Sakura wasn’t on her mission. It was all a trap, and you didn’t get her out quick enough. “You have five seconds to answer me before I break your wrist.”

“Nothing! I’d never hurt her!”

“Liar.” 

This time, terror lit up his expression, but you only caught a glimpse of the it before he was gone—replaced by the man who was responsible for your capture. For Sakura’s capture. 

“You,” you snarled, throwing yourself at the man and clawing desperately at the space between you, “you took her! I’ll kill you if you did anything to her!”

You kept your face pressed against the bars, fingertips barely brushing the material of his jacket. It was a humiliating admittance of your fear, but that didn’t matter now. Sakura was still in the Red Room. She was probably being tortured right now, and you were trapped. You had no way of reaching her unless you got out of this cell.

“Sakura is fine. I’m not your enemy, although I will be if you hurt one of my students again,” he said, calm voice juxtaposed by his tightening fists and harsh glare. You paused, and when you met his eyes, they hardened in silent warning, “you’re here because Sakura wouldn’t come with me unless I brought you too, which means that you get to stay on a strict set of conditions.” 

You pressed your head against the bars, gripping them in white-knuckled fists. The man stayed silent for another moment, letting your panting breaths fill the space between you.

“Since you just broke the first condition, you get to stay in your cell a bit longer before I consider a probation. The second condition: you don’t speak to Sakura unless I allow you to. On the off chance that I do allow it, I will be present for any interactions. The third: if I suspect that you intend to harm any of my students, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understand?”

“Where am I?”

“The fourth: you don’t get to ask questions.”

“You’re full of shit.”

The man smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes above his black mask. You couldn’t see the outline of his mouth through the fabric, but you could practically feel his smugness. It infuriated you to no end that the expression was justified—you were the one behind bars. 

He took calculated steps to the edge of the cell, watching your hands carefully as they tightened around the bars. After a few moments, he knelt down in front of you, eyes alight with anger. 

You imagined that your eyes held the same fury. You were itching to lunge for him and wring his neck until he let you see Sakura.

He was close enough now that you could reach him. You weren’t sure what your endgame was, but you couldn’t stop yourself from shooting an arm aimed for his throat through the bars. 

“Kakashi-sensei!”

Your back was pressed against the cold metal before you could so much as touch him. You had barely registered his movement, but now he was holding your neck against the bars with one arm as the other encircled your wrists, grip tight as iron. Your hip throbbed, but you ignored it and focused instead on the unbearable feeling of someone holding you down by the throat. 

“Don’t–” you gasped, wincing when the pressure on your neck tightened. You tried to force yourself to stay present, to keep yourself from being consumed by memories, but you still felt phantom hands holding your shoulders to keep you pinned down. You shook your head to dissipate the nonexistent touch, but unwanted memories still threatened to break to the surface, “don’t hurt her. I’ll stop fighting if you promise that Sakura won’t be hurt. You can do whatever you want to me, just...just prove that she’s safe.” 

“I don’t know why you think you have any power to make demands, but you’re going to have to do better than empty words if you want to see Sakura. You just attacked me and my student completely unprovoked.”

“Unprovoked?” you spit, clenching your fists and prying them from his grip. He released his hold on you, but didn’t move from his position in front of the bars. Gasping, you backed away from the bars and involuntarily reached towards your neck. “You kidnapped me. You put me in a cell, and now you’re telling me that you can’t show me proof that Sakura is alive.” 

He just stared at you, eyes empty and expression bored.

“Maybe I’ll be more understanding if you start being more useful,” he said casually. “Tell me about the Red Room.”

You remembered the first time you’d been interrogated as a training exercise. If you so much as said a word in response to your “captors’” questions, you were punished. Anything more than silence only led to pain. Even if you wanted to answer the man’s questions, it was conditioning rather than choice that kept your lips sealed shut. 

“You know, for how desperate you are to see Sakura, you sure aren’t being very cooperative.” 

You wanted to laugh. You’d gained your bearings now, and oriented yourself to the reality of your situation: you hadn’t escaped the Red Room, and you had to avoid any injury at the hands of this man, HYDRA or otherwise. Changing his to imitate someone that Sakura trusted was child’s play for Orochimaru. And if he really was the one sitting in front of you now, answering these questions would end in punishment. You were already injured, and any further damage would not allow for a successful escape, and that was still your goal. These attempts at manipulation wouldn’t so easily sway you now.

“I’ll let you see her if you answer my questions.”

You had been raised to tell lies, and a liar knew a liar when they saw one. He had no intention of letting you see Sakura any time soon. If all he had to offer was an exchange of information for proof of life, you weren’t interested. It was proof or silence.

“Hm,” he gave you a once over, resting his chin on his arm and keeping his expression flat and unimpressed, “maybe you’re not as interested in Sakura’s safety as you want me to believe.”

Your eye twitched. After a final moment of watching one another, the man stood and led his student through the metal door. It slammed shut, and it was only your heavy, uncontrolled breathing that filled the silence once the echo had stopped.

“You’re being cruel!”

“I’m only doing what’s necessary to keep you and the others safe. As far as I’m concerned, she is a threat until proven otherwise.”

“I told you, she just wants to make sure I’m safe! She probably thinks that I’m being tortured, or...or worse! She’s just scared!”

“She hurt Naruto.” 

“Naruto’s fine! He was the one poking around her cell.”

Kakashi and Sakura had been going back and forth for nearly an hour. Kakashi was sitting calmly at a desk chair while Sakura stood over him, arms crossed and face as menacing as she could manage. Kakashi could admit that she had become a bit more intimidating since her capture, but he could still see her old habits from before. Her bottom lip jutted out when she was upset, she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and she never broke eye contact.

“It’s not as simple as you want it to be,” Kakashi told her carefully. “I haven’t even conducted a formal interrogation. There are procedures I need to follow before I allow any interaction–” 

“Procedures?” Sakura looked close to breaking into a fit of laughter. “Since when have you cared about procedures? I’m sure kidnapping her and keeping her locked up isn’t in your procedure!”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t be here,” he narrowed his eyes, “and as far as SHIELD is concerned, she’s the enemy.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been going over SHIELD’s head for years! They don’t care what you do when you’re not on missions!”

In all honesty, Kakashi couldn’t find it in him to truly engage with this conflict right now. He was just happy that Sakura was safe, and he wasn’t sure he could risk that safety no matter how much she vouched for you. 

Sasuke and Naruto were sitting on the far side of the room, doing their very best to pretend that they weren’t listening.

“Sensei.”

It had been two days since Sakura’s rescue. Two days of either petulant silence or arguments like this one. And in all of those interactions, this was the first time that she had addressed him like she used to. He leaned back in his seat, eyes burning.

“I’m grateful that you saved me. Really, and I couldn’t be happier to be back. I missed you more than anything, but...” 

Naruto and Sasuke turned when they heard the break in Sakura’s voice. She hadn’t told them anything about the four years that she was gone. Two days of safety, and she was still forcing herself to put on a brave face. Kakashi knew from the deep bags under her eyes that the effort was exhausting.

“You weren’t there,” she whispered, shoulders shaking with days worth of pent up emotion. Probably years worth. “You weren’t there, and I don’t blame you for any of it...but she was.”

Kakashi blinked.

“I know you don’t trust her, and I understand why. She attacked you and Naruto, yes, but she’s been in the Red Room her whole life. And they...they gave us these tests where they would act like they were giving us a chance to escape. If we believed them and tried, we’d be punished for disloyalty. That’s why she doesn’t trust you. She thinks you’re testing her, and she thinks you’ll hurt me if she caves and believes that you’re really going to help us.”

Sakura was breathing hard, wiping at her face when she couldn’t bear to look at Kakashi any longer.

“She was there when you couldn’t be. She knows, and she...she understands. She kept me alive, sensei! Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Sakura was crying now, tears landing at her feet in her first real show of emotion since her rescue. Kakashi sat straighter, arms held halfway between them. He was at a loss. Nothing seemed right anymore, and he didn’t know if his old ways of comforting her would still have the same effect. 

“They made me do things that I will never forget. Things that I’ll never be able to take back. But somehow, it was all okay because I wasn’t alone. She protected me. She hurt and bled for me. She made sure that I didn’t have to go through the same things that she did. She reminded me of you. Can’t you...will you just give her one chance?”

Kakashi wanted to say no. Now that he had gotten her back, he wanted to keep Sakura from any and all potential threats. But that wasn’t what he had been training her for, and it wasn’t going to do her any good now. He’d already failed to protect her once, and she was going to have to live with the consequences of his failure for the rest of her life.

She protected me. She reminded me of you.

One chance. He could manage that.

The second time Kakashi came to you alone, you tried not to let it confirm your suspicions.

He knelt in front of the bars, leaning one arm against them and pulling a sleek silver card out of his back pocket. You eyed it, unmoving against the opposite wall of the cell. You did your best to appear unconcerned by his presence despite the itch to leap forward and throttle him.

“Sakura tells me that you protected her.”

He’s lying. She didn’t tell him anything. Orochimaru is feeding you lies.

You knew that he was baiting you into some kind of trap, but you sat straighter at the mention of Sakura. Kakashi saw the change in your demeanor, and you hated him for it.

“I want to believe her when she tells me that you’re not a threat,” he continued, “but you’re not doing much to back up that claim.”

You clenched your teeth, jaw tensing as you stared him down. To his credit, he met your gaze unfazed and unblinking. There was nothing about him that seemed deceptive, but you knew that letting your guard down was exactly what he was waiting for. HYDRA was patient with their tests, but you had endured them before. This was nothing new, and nothing that you couldn’t handle. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to do from here,” you bit back.

“If you push your luck, you won’t be doing anything.”

Kakashi swiped the silver card through the scanner connected to the lock on the door. With a flash of green and an high-pitched beep, the lock clicked, and Kakashi opened the cell with only a moment of hesitation. You stilled, observing his movements carefully. He did the same, and you both waited for the other’s approach. 

The silence that followed was deafening. You held your breath in anticipation of movement, but none came. The expectation of immediate violence hadn’t been met on either end, and the stalemate that followed filled you with so much tension that your hip began to ache again. You rested your hands on the cool concrete floor, ready to push yourself forward at the first sign of movement from the man in front of you. 

“If you think I’ll fall for some kind of trick,” you breathed, every movement of your lips carefully localized. Kakashi’s eyes darted towards them in the only outward sign of tension that you could see, “you’re going to be disappointed.”

More silence followed, though the tension in the room grew with each passing second. Was he waiting for you to look away? Waiting to attack? Was this all to test your reflexes? 

“Come in,” Kakashi shouted over his shoulder towards the main door. As it opened behind him, his eyes narrowed at you. “If I’m making a mistake in indulging you, I promise that you’re going to regret it.” 

Your lips were sealed shut. You weren’t going to give him anything; whatever you said would be weaponized and used against you. 

“Y/N!”

The familiar voice startled you from your thoughts. It was the voice that you’d been waiting to hear since you woke up separated from Sakura, but you found yourself backing up a step when she opened the door. She looked the same, and she was relatively unharmed, but you couldn’t help the doubt that flooded you. 

She’s okay. How is she okay? How is she unharmed after the escape attempt? After you were recaptured?

“Sakura...” you muttered. Kakashi narrowed his eyes at your reaction. It was the first time he’d seen any emotion on your face other than rage. 

He hadn’t expected to see fear.

Sakura didn’t notice your hesitation. She rushed past Kakashi and into the cell before he could tell her to wait.

“Stop,” you held a hand out in front of you, and Kakashi was surprised to see that it was shaking. He took a step forward, searching for any hostile movements or intent in your expression, but you just took another step back. Sakura froze, eyes wide and devastated, “how do I know it’s really you?” 

“It is,” she whispered, voice breaking, “I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, as if shaking away an illusion, “I have to be sure. Tell me something that only the real Sakura would know.” 

Sakura stood straighter, face falling into something more calculated. Kakashi wasn’t sure if this doubt was something she had experienced, but he couldn’t help the prick of guilt that crept its way into his conscience as you watched Sakura like she was a time bomb.

“There’s something hiding in our closet,” Sakura whispered, barely loud enough for Kakashi to hear. His brow furrowed, but the words seemed to have the desired effect on you. You stood straighter, eyes wide as you watched Sakura, “but you’re gone, and I have to be strong enough to keep it inside.”

The silence that followed Sakura’s words was thick. It dripped down the walls, creeping past Kakashi and into the cell where you stood frozen. He thought he may have been able to see it pooling at your feet if he looked carefully. 

Sakura took a tentative step forward, but stopped when your raised hand twitched.

“It’s me,” she repeated, holding her hands in front of her carefully, palms up and relaxed, “you’re safe. We got out. This isn’t a trick.”

Kakashi tensed when you launched yourself at Sakura, but held himself back when she laughed and wrapped her arms around you. You were trembling, face buried in Sakura’s shoulder and arms tight around her shoulders. Your breathing was ragged, and Kakashi wondered if you’d been holding it since you first heard Sakura’s voice.

The girl was crying, shoulders shaking as she buried herself in your arms. Kakashi couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that he felt at the sight. Sakura hadn’t been nearly this happy to see him and Sasuke. Somehow, seeing you made her happier than being saved from the Red Room.

He supposed he should’ve known better than to compare himself to you. There was something different about bonds formed in crisis situations, and if Kakashi’s assumptions were correct, the past four years of Sakura’s life had been one drawn-out crisis.

“Sakura,” he put a careful hand on her shoulder. She peeked past you and looked at him. There was no contempt in her eyes anymore. Just pure relief. He smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her cheek. She ducked back into your neck, keeping Kakashi close enough that she could have you both in arms reach. She looked so much younger than she really was. If he wanted, he could’ve pretended that she had never been taken. But he saw the scars on her knuckles and the muscle that she’d lacked before. He saw the toll that four years in the Red Room had taken on her.

“Sakura,” you grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back and cupping her face. You looked between her eyes, studying them with a steady, careful gaze. You glanced at Kakashi briefly, suspicion still clouding your gaze and making you hesitant to speak freely, “did you get out in time?”

When Sakura nodded, all of the tension melted from your shoulders. A weary smile lifted your face, pulling at the broken skin on your jaw.

Was this really all you wanted?

Kakashi had a hard time believing that. He just had to wait you out, see what else you wanted, and then get you out. If you stayed, there was every possibility that HYDRA would track you here, and he knew that he couldn’t protect his students against a large-scale ambush. There were too many unknowns to allow you to stay. It went against everything he’d been taught. If you were important enough for them to try and find you, everything that Kakashi had built for himself and his students would come crashing down. 

His pity didn’t extend so far that he would risk Sakura’s recapture. Harsh as it was, that was the world that they lived in. 

“Sakura,” he placed a hesitant hand on the girl’s shoulder. Despite feeling somewhat assured that you weren’t hostile anymore, you still hadn’t reacted well the last time he’d tried to touch her, “would you give us a few minutes?”

“Can she come out now?” Sakura asked, ignoring the request and looking up at Kakashi, eyes wide and pleading, “there’s an extra room, right? She could use that for now, and then–”

“I can’t stay here, Sakura.”

Your words were a shock, both to Sakura and Kakashi. After the fight you’d been putting up to get to her, you were becoming surprisingly compliant now that you’d gotten your wish. 

Sakura looked horrified. She began shaking her head when you pulled away, giving her a sad smile and pushing her hair back where it had fallen into her eyes. 

“What?” she breathed. “Of course you can! Where else would you go?” 

“I don’t know. But they’re going to be coming after us. If I give them a lead, I can take some of a heat off of you. Distract them for a while so you stay off of their radar.” 

“No!” 

There was so much ferocity in Sakura’s voice that even Kakashi startled, barely recognizing the girl he knew in the person she had become.

“You promised, Y/N,” she spat fiercely, “you said that we would stay together. You said you would stay with me after we got out!” 

“I promised that I would protect you,” you corrected, voice low, “this is how I can do that.”

“By giving yourself back to them?”

“Sakura–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she spit venomously. “Things are different now. I’m back here with Kakashi and the others, and I’m stronger now. We can both be safe here. Things aren’t the same as when they took me!” 

“I know,” you smiled, sad and understanding, “you’re one of the strongest people I know, Sakura. But you have people you care about here, don’t you?”

Sakura didn’t acknowledge the question. She just stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“I know you want to protect them. If I go, they’ll be safe.” 

“I want you to be safe too. Why can’t you just accept that things are okay now? You can let yourself be happy.”

“She’s right, Sakura,” Kakashi finally interjected. Everything about the conversation had felt too personal before. He felt like an intruder in a world that he wasn’t supposed to be seeing, but now you were talking about a bigger picture. This was a picture that he was a part of. 

“What?” Sakura turned on her heel and glared angrily at Kakashi. “You...I thought you of all people would be on my side! Isn’t our job to protect people?”

“Sakura, look at me,” you pleaded. Sakura glared at the floor, “please.” 

When she finally turned towards you, you tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing. Kakashi knew you wanted to give in. He could see it in your eyes. It was clear that you would do just about anything for Sakura, but this wasn’t about what she wanted. It was about what needed to be done. Kakashi had learned what that meant over years of experience with loss. He guessed that you had too.

“You’re going to leave again,” Sakura muttered as tears begin to gather at the corners of her eyes. She tried to hold herself together, but it was hard when she was watching you slip through her fingers. It was the second time, and she was just letting it happen. “Last time you left...” 

“Last time I left, we were both still prisoners. That’s never going to be the case again.”

Sakura felt a tear escape, but she didn’t stop its descent down her cheek.

“We’re free. We have choices now, and this is what I’m choosing. I choose to protect you and your friends.” 

You glanced at Kakashi as you said this. He held your gaze, still and blank.

“Please don’t go,” Sakura pleaded, desperate for you to understand. But there was finality in your eyes. You had already decided. 

Something like respect bloomed in Kakashi’s chest. This was what he would’ve done. 

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura shook her head, turning on her heel and storming towards the door with a sound between a scoff and a sob. You watched her go with a frown, then glared at Kakashi. He stared back at you with that same, infuriatingly blank expression.

“You change up quick,” he raised a brow. “Just ten minutes ago you looked ready to strangle me.” 

“I told you,” you scowled, “I only wanted to make sure that she was safe here. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

“Well, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind,” Kakashi stepped back from the cell, opening up your path to the door. “And I’m more than happy to accommodate your departure. Stay the night if you want. You should leave in the morning, but I’d like some information first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a tentative step forward and watching for a reaction. 

“Just like that?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. He seemed like a completely different person now than when he’d stepped into the room. You supposed that your interaction with Sakura had done enough to convince him of your good intentions, but the change was still dizzying. “But don’t think that you’re off the hook for attacking Naruto. I still don’t trust you, but I won’t make you stay in a cell. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to be a fugitive.”

“How kind.” 

Sakura was waiting outside when you trailed Kakashi through the door. He glanced back at you for a moment, and you saw that previous distrust creeping back into his expression. However, when he shifted his gaze to Sakura, it softened, and he turned the corner swiftly. 

His footsteps stopped at the end of the hall, but you didn’t hear the sound of a door opening. Within shouting distance, should Sakura need him. 

Sakura was fuming, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and her brows knit together. She looked like she was trying to decide whether she wanted to cry or scream at you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you got both.

“I’m staying here tonight,” you told her quietly, “and I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Why?” Sakura turned on you, taking your hand and holding it tightly. “Why do you have to go? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

You felt like you were going in circles with her, and you knew that having this conversation again wouldn’t do any good. There was too much risk involved in staying. It didn’t matter how you felt or how much she begged. That fact wouldn’t change, so neither would your plan. 

“Sakura,” you croaked, covering her hand with your own, “I don’t know if they have trackers on me. They’ve had enough opportunities that they could’ve put them under my skin. You know what kind of technology they have. Honestly, they might already know where I am.” 

“Then they would have put trackers on me too! Then it won’t matter if you’re gone!” 

“You were there for four years,” you silenced her, “I’ve been there my whole life. They could’ve done anything to me when I was younger knowing that I wouldn’t remember any pain from a procedure. The scar from the incision would’ve faded by now. I’m in more danger of being found. You know that.”

Sakura just glared at you. Her eyes were swimming with tears, but she was fighting hard to keep them at bay. You brought a hand to her cheek and held it carefully, just like you would do when she was younger and had that same look on her face. 

Sakura was the only person you had who you could call your family. You would protect her at any cost, even if it meant leaving her again.

Hinata was dying. 

You’d already driven a knife into her side, and you could see the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, but she still had the strength to pin you to the ground with her hips, hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing until you couldn’t take in any air. 

Her eyes were pained; she looked seconds away from keeling over, but her hands remained tight around your throat. She was putting all of her weight into choking you. She was trying to kill you before she could bleed out. You could see in her eyes that she would do everything in her power to win this match. 

Her hair was in front of her face, falling into her eyes. Purple hair...

Pink hair.

You gasped awake, choking on your breath and struggling to inhale. It took you a few seconds to pull yourself from your disorientation, but when you did, you still felt the chill of cold fingers around your throat. When you looked up, Sakura was hovering over you, teeth grit and eyes determined. She looked poised to kill.

“Sa–Sa...ku...ra,” you rasped, wide eyes searching hers for any explanation, but you barely recognized her. She looked devoid of everything but pure anger and hatred.

You’d seen that look many times before. You’d seen it in the eyes of countless girls who’d been convinced that you and the others in the Red Room were enemies rather than allies. Girls who had been forced to kill one another as a test of strength and courage. But this was different. This was the first time you’d seen that look in Sakura’s eyes.

Black spots began to cloud your vision and, at an instinctual level, you knew that if you let yourself fall into unconsciousness, Sakura would kill you. 

You gathered your remaining strength and channeled it into your arms, rocking to the side and using the momentum to jab her throat. She gasped, coughing and releasing her iron hold on your throat. When she met your eyes again, there was a foreign determination in them that sent a chill down your spine.

“Sakura, stop!”

Sakura’s lips split into a smile when she heard the deep rasp in your voice. The smile held something sinister. You could see the intent to kill in her eyes; she wanted to see you bleed. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she collapsed to the ground. You watched in frozen shock as her eyes rolled back and she fell, and you barely shook yourself from your paralysis in time to cushion her head from the hard floor. Once she landed, the only sounds filling the silence were your wheezing exhales.

Sakura’s face had settled back into one that you recognized, but you couldn’t erase the image of her smile from your mind. It was crooked and slim, just like Orochimaru’s. It was almost an exact replica of the expression that you still remembered so clearly. 

“What did he do to you?”

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Author’s note | title is from “The Bomb” by Florence + the Machine

[tobiasdrake]

Amazing how, despite the absence of Peacekeepers in our face right this second, this is nonetheless the worst its ever been.

I'm not saying Makoto fucked us all. ...but I'm not not saying that. If things continue down this path, Makoto will have killed Huesca and destroyed the Nocturnal Detective Agency, something Yomi's been trying and failing to do for weeks, all in one fell swoop. Yomi will get to ride the high of killing us all and Makoto gets to go home secure in the knowledge that he made this checkmate happen.

Assuming this is the outcome that he intended to happen, of course. But I've watched Makoto work Yomi over. Man's playing 4-D chess while we're all playing checkers. It is highly possible that he meant all of this to happen.

So this is our motive. To escape the base, we have to find Fink and prove his existence to Yomi - Which will likely involve some retaliatory soul-reaping to avenge Yakou.

Probably not. Like I said earlier, if all of these security measures are stopping us from leaving then they may be stopping Fink from leaving too. It's possible he's still in the building. If he didn't get out before they turned off the elevator, he may even still be on this floor.

Right now, Yomi's licking his wounds and figuring out what to do with us. We have breathing room. This is the perfect time to act.

Desuhiko's not wrong and this is a common complaint I have with Yuma's behavior. But it's better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, wondering how long until Yakou draws his final breath.

If Halara's with us then we must be on the right path! Let's do this!

Astral projection. Which means if we hold his hand, we can astral project too.

Hold up, condition? You gonna tell me what that means, big guy?

I will tear you in half little man.

I mean, I won't. But if you swing on Vivia, I will offer Halara a fiver to snap you in two. I don't even care that Vivia could outfight you in his sleep. They can both kick your ass together.

It's astral projection. I knew it. This spiritual ability is probably also why he can see Shinigami. He has one foot in the plane that she exists on.

This is going to be fun. I can't wait to Coalesce with it! Vivia, you and I are going to be the best of partners.

CHOKE ON YOUR TONGUE. I wanna be a gho~ost! T_T

He is looking right at Shinigami as he says this. He knows exactly what's going to happen if he helps us.

No, we won't. Yomi's a fascist prick. Before Halara showed up, he was kicking Yakou's body to help him die faster. We're supposed to trust that guy with Yakou's medical care?

You and me both, my guy. I feel you. I'd love to live in that world too. But it isn't what we have. It's important to always keep moving forward, to keep striving to build a better world to live in. But to always keep one eye on the world that presently exists.

I wish I could believe that Yomi is a good-hearted well-meaning guy who will engage with us in good faith and offer Yakou the care that he deserves. I wish I could have faith that our situation is such.

But I don't. His behavior has given me zero confidence in his willingness or ability to treat us fairly.

Too harsh, Halara. While I agree that Vivia should help me commit long-range remote-murder, I can't fault him for his reluctance to do so. He's got a good heart.

Yes to that first one; He does seem violently concerned about the presence of the Book of Death among us, and its involvement in our activities. Rightly so. It's killing people.

Vivia once again cutting to the thematic heart of these investigations. Through the Mystery Labyrinth, the price we pay for the answers we find far outweighs the value of those answers. We trade lives in exchange for secrets that weren't worth those lives.

Should he truly help us do it? Take the blood upon his hands, the same as ours? Desuhiko and Halara can't fathom what he's talking about because they don't know. They don't understand what's at stake here. But Vivia knows. He sees the monster that lurks over Yuma's shoulder and feeds on souls unjustly condemned.

I hope he sticks to his guns. I know he won't, 'cause we have a case to crack and game mechanics won't let us just call it here. But this is a strong moment for him.

Oh, we're going to trick him. Wow. That's dangerous. We don't even know if we'll be able to get our soul back in its body without his help.

Never mind, he knew exactly what we were on about.

Yeah, he rolled over fast. "I won't do the thing because I'm morally opposed to it. I have no qualms with helping you do the thing, though. It's not the doing of the thing that I'm against; I just don't want to do it myself."

SPOOKY GHOST. This is awesome. I'm going to investigate so many things and they won't be able to stop me. And maybe finally take my chance to rub my butt on Yomi's desk like I promised.

Gotta keep my word, y'know. It's called integrity.

[touloserlautrec]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thanks for the tag, @ntzsche9! You can find their answers here — and there are some absolute bangers in there.

Gently, no pressure tagging: @camillenrose @pandoras-comment-box @scribe-of-stories @thatndginger @sunset-a-story

1. What motivates you to write?

I can’t not think about stories. If I didn’t write (or pressure @sunset-a-story into co-writing a given scene XD oopsies), I’d just go out of my mind with stories bursting from the seams. It’s how I mainline dopamine.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Probably this excerpt from Arc 1:

Mackenzie held her eyes for a moment amidst the table’s laughter. It seemed like nothing could ever make her flinch. “The reality is, there is no fairness,” she said. Her voice was rich and deep like velvet wrapped around a sharp knife. “No justice, no karma, no great equalizer. Not even death.” The table fell silent as she spoke. The woman knew how to command attention and respect. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my days, it’s that we’re not built to hold it in our fragile minds-- this reality that no amount of integrity, righteousness, or fortitude will overcome the affliction of human nature.” She looked at each of them, straight in the eyes. “But if there’s another thing I’ve learned, it’s that those same fragile minds are a weapon. We’re not built to hold that knowledge because that knowledge is useless to us.” Her voice hardened. “This is a war of attrition. Our fragile minds may shatter like glass at that knowledge but shattered glass can slice a man’s throat. Even the tiniest shards can cut up your insides and kill you if you’re made to swallow them. Death may not equalize the world, but it can damn well make a man piss himself. So we let our minds block out the parts that hold us back and we’ll force-feed them the undoing they’ve sown. There have been days when I’ve known everything there is to know, and I can’t hold it all forever, but the one thing that I can’t un-know is that things change. They mutate because of some small itch or tiny displacement. Just look at us. Knacks. Mutations. Impossible changes. Motherfucking pearls.” She picked up the bottle of scotch and started pouring again. “So, Fredericka. You were robbed. They will try to make you thank them for it. Don’t give that to them. Instead, keep your head held high and make them choke on it.”

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Oooh how do I choose from my babies???? I think Alex is probably the head of the pack— he’s just got so much growth and bravery, and it’s comforting that he lives inside me. On the other hand, Emmett is a very strong contender because he’s such an unhinged, confident person, who does absolutely nonsense things. I can’t help but cackle along with him, and I try to channel him when I need to be confident.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I think it’s probably gotta be characters. I think I am pretty good at coming up with interesting, well-rounded characters with unique voices, and writing their inner dialogue and inner workings to further flesh them out.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

The engagement and encouragement. It was starting to really get crushing to constantly post things to Facebook and Instagram and get pretty much no response, so having a place where people are actively encouraging and lifting each other up feels really good and motivating.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Hmm. Google docs has been a life saver in co-writing and organizing this behemoth of a story. The other thing, weird as it may seem, is drawing— drawing and seeing my characters helps me feel inspired to write/brainstorm more story, and vice versa.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

My favorite piece of world building is The Church. Their weird way station homes, the constant sense of grossness and pared down utilitarianism that comes with being nomadic and single-minded. Their unflagging faith and spirituality of all different sorts. The most welcoming, safest, unwavering hospitality. I love the weird combination of those things. It also lets me indulge my lil’ pagan heart (even with non-pagan characters tbh, because the way they interact with any God(ess)/Spirit/Being, no matter which religion, has so much conviction and deep knowing that it is True and Real and Manifest). Their lifestyle and mission is so compelling to me.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

We’re always taught to write with the audience in mind, and to an extent that’s true, but first and foremost, write what you want to read, write because it’s fun, and then read your own stuff over and over because you love it and it inspires you to keep going. Read other work too, don’t get me wrong, but just… let yourself enjoy it. Be your own fandom.

[windy-trickster]

[CERVIN] -> It's all a dream, wake up

It was near closing time as the Blueblood librarian walked around the various shelves, wheeling a small cart filled with books in front of himself. They were all newly returned ones in good condition, just like how they should be. The soft tapping of Cervin's dress shoes against the freshly polished floor was the only sound to be heard. There wasn't a single nighttime critter even active, which was normal for the area Cervin's library was in. You really wouldn't see much around the area as well besides a couple of other establishments. Nothing too special, but oh well. It was a quiet little area and Cervin appreciated that dearly. Peace and quiet. Just how he liked it... The Blueblood turned a corner and started to walk down another aisle of shelves, planning on putting the books back. A soft chime rang out. Cervin looked up from the cart and blinked. That... That was the front doors. It was nearly closing time, who in the world would be coming to a library when morning was only a few hours away? Did this troll have a death wish or something? Cervin sighed. Duty called. He turned sharply on his heels and walked towards the lobby area, adjusting his glasses and putting on his typical neutral expression. But when he reached the front, he could feel his eyebrow twitch upwards in confusion. No one was there. The doors didn't even look like they had been touched. But he could've sworn he- A choked breath escaped his lips as someone's hands wrapped around his throat from behind, pulling him backwards without warning. His eyes shot wide open, his own hands reaching up to try to pry off his attacker's hands. His head tilted backwards instinctively. The color drained from his face at the figure above him. A tall, looming adult troll in a strange mask looked down at him, his one yellow eye seemed to glow. Dressed in Alternia's finest fabrics, jewelry and dark colors. And his horns... They were the same as Cervin's. Cervin clawed at the adult's hands, frantically trying to free himself. But the hands only gripped tighter and tighter, making the younger troll struggle to breathe.

The adult troll kept his eye locked onto Cervin's. This... Was this his Ancestor? But how? His Ancestor should be dead! Dead and buried in some unmarked grave! But here he was... Trying to strangle the life out of his own descendant. Cervin closed his eyes. He could feel his will to fight grow weaker and weaker by the minute. His futile attempts to escape his attacker's death grip weren't working. He was going to die here. Die to a man who's.... Supposed to be dead. Cervin closed his eyes and forced whatever strength he had left into talking, straining his neck upwards in hopes of getting some room to breathe. To speak. "You're.... You're not.... You're not.... Re a l! YOU'RE NOT RE A L!" Buzzzz... Buzzz... A dark room met Cervin as his eyes snapped open. The small heater in the corner of his respiteblock hummed softly, moving side to side to keep the room warm. Cervin sat up and looked around the room. His curtains were closed, blocking out the harmful sunlight that threatened to kill anyone who dared to walk in it's blazing glory. Buzzzz... Buzzz.... His palmhusk. He had missed messages. He reached over to his nightstand, feeling around for his device. Curses... He didn't have his glasses on and couldn't see shit! Ugh. He felt around for a couple more minutes before acquiring his glasses, slipping them on his face so he could properly read his messages. He had three. M9st Hated And Esteemed Kismesis: Call me when y9u wake up ne7d. Amdala Ravvna sent you an image Freana Elkena: Don't st4y up too l4te, Cerv. You know you need more sleep! ))_ Cervin sighed as he read the messages and looked over the image. Nothing felt.... Real at the moment, but getting to see these messages were at least... Comforting. ------- Mentioned trolls: Dracma Picpic - @wormstuck Freana Elkena - @jaded-daydream

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire Season 2, Episode 5: An Impossible Position

The French Storyline

Henriette and David grow closer as he recovers. After last episode’s run-in with a local woman discouraging resistance and a German officer, Henriette has decided to stay with David in the barn of a sympathetic farmer couple until he is well enough to leave the country, then to return to Paris as a nurse in a different hospital. 

But for now, they are young and alone…except for the farmer couple, who wink and nudge their encouragement every chance they get. The farmer’s wife actually tries to set the mood with wine, but it quickly goes to her head. Henriette murmurs “the world is spinning,” which David says is only “the nearness of you,” a reference to the song of the same name by Hoagy Carmichael and Ned Washington.

It's not the pale moon that excites me / That thrills and delights me…

Falling hard and fast, David initially wants to stay behind, pose as a Frenchman, and help the Resistance. She quickly dispels him of that notion: he cannot speak French, he cannot blend in, and there is no single Resistance network, just people doing what they can. The best he can do is go home to his squadron.

Even though he retains enough boyish charm to make Henriette smile, David is certainly different from the carefree version of himself at the beginning of the season. With Henriette, he breaks down his barriers and becomes more serious and sincere. He means it when he says, “Don't forget me. Please, don't ever forget me.” And he means it when he refers to his pre-crash self with shame and derision.

David: You read the newspapers. The persecution and the hate. You want to weep, to rage, but then, on the next page, you read the cricket scores. I'm ashamed. Henriette: Ashamed? You're fighting for us. David: I'm a boy playing soldiers. Henriette: You didn't understand. How can anyone understand?

There’s another character out there who does, though, and I hope somewhere down the line Kasia meets David and Henriette. I still think it’s possible if one of them becomes part of the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) and returns to their home country as spies or saboteurs.

The British Storyline

Irena is brought in for questioning with MI5. Tam is unable to get an answer out of Irena, but once alone with Kasia, Irena reveals that yes, she is spying for the Germans–but that’s because they have her son. Kasia struggles with disbelief as Irena pleads for help, that the Germans will kill her son if she doesn’t send the Avro factory plans onward. James suggests that Kasia “turn” Irena into a double agent, “she is a traitor, after all.”

Kasia convinces Tam to let Irena go home, where Kasia can convince her to give more information. But in the early hours of the morning after Kasia has dozed off, Irena poisons herself with arsenic, leaving only a note addressed to her son, begging forgiveness. “All doors were closed to me.”

Far from fazed, James doctors the Avro blueprints and proceeds with the misinformation plan. His coolness shakes Kasia to her core. That night over a chicken feast that leaves Jan wide-eyed in amazement and Robina suspicious of blackmarket activity, Kasia confronts James about Irena’s death.

Kasia: You are the coldest man I’ve ever known.

To everyone’s shock, he responds angrily in Polish. Robina kicks a poor horrified Jan from the room and demands answers. Without hesitation, Kasia admits their work with MI5.

Kasia: I did believe her, in my heart. But you are not allowed to have a heart, you are not allowed to have the–the smallest human decency! And you sit here, smiling, and joking, eating and.. how does guilt not choke you? Hm? [...] I put her in an impossible position.

Now on the defensive, James calls Kasia a child for expecting anything other than brutal acceptance of reality. He explains how familiar this war is to his generation of veterans, completely missing Kasia’s own experiences in this current war.

James: Now, you might think that callous. But really, it was a kind of courage. An acceptance of our lot. The horror was and could not be denied. We knew at any moment that faceless body could be one of us. We saw. But we did not look. If you can find this same, cold courage, then maybe you will survive this war intact.

Robina, realizing that she has once again let a WWI vet with a different kind of trauma into her home and heart, politely but coolly dismisses James from her life for his months of lies and deceit and corruption of Kasia’s role as a woman and wife. Faced with the changing roles for women in society (with all the rapid changes in society), Robina doubles down on the 19th century concept of a woman’s role as a domestic peacekeeper.

For her role in the deceit, Kasia is given an ultimatum: leave all war and spycraft behind or she and Jan will be turned from the house, in-laws or not. Desperate to keep Jan safe once more, Kasia agrees, but not in her heart of hearts.

So…Harry’s going to have quite a bit of catching up to do when he gets home. As will Lois.

The Egyptian Storyline

Still billeted at an ATS station near Cairo, Lois has adapted to work as an ambulance driver but not the mindset. When she sees an Egyptian woman collapse (the woman’s cause of death are left unclear) and leave her young baby boy an orphan, Lois rushes to care for the boy. She wants to get him to Cairo where he’d have better opportunities, but Pearl argues that their job is to take care of the wounded soldiers, not civilian babies, and they don’t have the time or resources to go to Cairo and back for one baby who isn’t their responsibility. The best they can do is drop him off in a local village when they have a chance.

Lois: They can't even feed themselves. Isn't that the whole problem? It makes me wild. What does any of this got to do with any of these poor people? Why are we fighting our war on their land?

For the next several hours, Lois tries to balance caring for the baby boy with her ATS duties. This plotline is resolved offscreen, so I’m not entirely sure if they end up getting him to an orphanage in Cairo or just leaving him in a local village. He doesn’t even get a name. The more important concern for this episode is how caring for an orphaned baby reminds Lois of her own child, who is not orphaned but, if Robina’s words in past episodes are to be believed, unloved.

Wiping away her tears, Lois resolves to quit ATS and return home to take care of her daughter. Next episode, she’ll have to get in line. Robina has become attached to Vera over the past several months, and if Harry’s reaction in episode 1 is any indication, he won’t want to let Vera go either.

“I won’t be needing this anymore,” Lois says, placing her helmet on the bed.

It’s a nice symbolic gesture and all…but Pearl just finished an ambulance shift. Quit after you put in your hours, Lois. There are wounded people and no replacement drivers. 

I don’t know if this show intends this, but Lois constantly makes snap decisions that others have to pay for. Like…I’m glad she’s healed from multiple traumatic experiences in a row, but you can’t just travel to another country at wartime to “find yourself,” spend a few hours with a plot device baby, and decide that you don’t have any responsibility for your coworkers and patients. Quitting before your shift is a jerk move. Quitting before your shift at a field hospital during wartime takes that to a new level. 

I feel like she could have hit these character beats in another (better) way. Why not have it go like this:

After a long shift, Lois returns to base and strikes up a conversation with a woman holding a baby. It soon becomes clear that the woman is extremely weak and has made her way to the ATS outpost as a last-ditch effort to get help for herself and her son. Lois is able to guide the woman and baby into the ambulance alongside some wounded soldiers and take them all to the hospital.

In the next scene, it is revealed that the woman has died of either starvation or disease brought on by the disruptions of war. In her fury, Lois gives the “What does any of this have to do with any of these poor people?” speech and resolves to get the baby boy (who gets a name during Lois’s conversation with his mom) as far from the frontlines as possible. Pearl tries to talk her out of it, but Lois, with the baby in her arms, climbs into the truck and demands that Pearl drive them to the city.

Their last appearance in the episode is a conversation as the two women drive through the desert at night, having safely delivered the boy to the orphanage. Finally, Lois breaks down and reveals to Pearl that she left her baby to be here, that she lied about not having children in order to get the job, that she initially came here to run away from everything…but she can’t run anymore. Speaking with the Egyptian mother reminded her that she left her own daughter in a country at war, but her assignment with ATS is nearly through, then she’s going home.

Oh well, that’s what fanfic’s for.

The Libyan Storyline

Constant shelling has left the men with little sleep, half of half rations, and now no access to distilled water as the siege of Tobruk rages on. Harry’s mental state continues to worsen as battle fatigue creeps in. He becomes obsessed with covering everyone’s tracks in the sand and keeping the men occupied, growing irritable and restless, and showing signs of sunstroke, as diagnosed by Rajib. 

When Harry encourages the men to go on patrol for a water source at night, Rajib disagrees, but eventually both lead their men into the desert. They succeed only in capturing Italians who were guarding an oil well. During a skirmish with Axis forces, the Italians escape, and Stan is killed. There is no heroic moment of sacrifice. In fact, we don’t even see it. (At least in the version aired in America. Was that censored from TV broadcast like some of the language has been?) Like Harry, we are shocked at the realization.

The next day, the survivors are driven to safety in a truck. On the floor of the truck is Stan’s body. Then there’s the German POW captured after the Italians escaped. He shows no remorse for the dead and no compassion for any of his fellow soldiers. In fact, he takes pains to be as hateful and crass as possible at every opportunity. His goal, after all, is to live as a prisoner of war.

When he is made to dig the grave for Stan, the soldier is left alone with Harry. Once the soldier realizes Harry understands German, he launches into a tirade against Britain, the Polish, and anything that strikes a nerve. Now with Harry’s undivided attention, the soldier metaphorically aims at the heart, saying that Harry is ultimately responsible for Stan’s death. In fury, Harry shoots the soldier in the chest before coming to his senses and weeping. Oh how far he is from the moony-eyed boy of 1939.

Throughout this episode, Rajib acts as the steady counter to Harry as Stan did in season 1, maintaining a show of optimism and perseverance for morale. It is Rajib who places himself between George and the German POW and refuses to engage with the soldier’s hateful rhetoric. It is Rajib, not Harry, who ultimately delivers the funeral prayer for Stan. Finally, it is Rajib who takes responsibility for the men, even as Harry is determined to get drunk (which, given the dehydration, won’t be too hard). 

Rajib: Beer and revenge, the coward's arsenal. Your men have lost their sergeant. They need you. Pull yourself together, man. For God's sake. It's the beginning of the end, drinking alone.

And he holds out his hand to take the whiskey and half the burden from Harry.

At the beginning of the episode, as Harry is ladling out the last of the rations, Stan asks him about the rest of the meal. His words are “Where’s the other half?” This episode is full of people with their other halves missing, and not just in a romantic sense. Irena and Lois miss their children. Robina and James part ways. Stan is shown with his picture of his wife, Eileen, and their baby. Where is your other half, Harry? What’s missing that can be restored next episode?

[popgoesthesneaselreturns]

The Truth

Images of Sal doing as he often said he did learned about art, perform at parties, dance with guests, but Equinox wasn't there. He was never there. Sal was alone, in every memory where other people were involved he was by himself. Pleasing the masses with a smile.

"Equinox locked himself inside a room and operated speakers whenever guests came. Sal acted as his face, the host, the performer, any role asked of him Sal did without complaint. The image of Equinox you saw is something Sal only came in contact with on the good days. When Sal was sure the real person was in control and not...the evil...lurking within. Yet, even those moments became tainted. As the otherside kept trying to ruin everything."

Salvador smirked in that moment, Salvador seemed to like playing the role of a story teller it was something he had done in the dreams. It was likely something Sal made as part of the mask. Images of the punishments then came through with a man with the same twisted smile taking Sal away. The abuse still happened, but it hadn't been done of the humans will or choice. In the memories you could even see that the human was trying to stop himself from forcing Sal into rooms or playing the piano to torment him.

"That man is the one who raised Sal, taught him what he knew and offered him the morals that Sal holds onto so strongly. On those rare occasions where the evil won though, those are the moments that live on in his nightmares. Sal was tormented but most days the human tried to seal himself away to keep Sal safe. He told Sal multiple times to leave the mansion, but Sal couldn't leave him. He knew alone the man would lose himself. That Sal was the only savior he had. So Sal tried to save him all by himself while losing his own mind."

The last images Salvador showed were images of Sal with an empty look in his eye as he looked over book after book tore through every inch of the house trying to find anything that would save his teacher. As the years wore on wounds appeared upon his body strangulation marks, cuts to parts of his body, so many days where he came close to ending his life from the isolation. And snowflakes...so many images of Sal crying snowflakes by himself crying...always crying.

"He was alone far more than he ever let anyone know."

"I was created to deal with the other people...the darker aspects of what Equinox was involved in. Those were things that had to be done to keep the house running. And as the evil took more control I bore the punishments for Sal I became the mask he wore while he created a shell to protect his real self in. And this cycle...went on...and on..."

The memories start to blur, morphing and changing as Sal carried out the same actions day after day with a manic expression upon his face then followed nby Equinox dragging him off somewhere. Yet, even there Sal has the same broken smile upon his face.

And then...finally the day where it all fell apart.

Images of Sal taking food to the room Equinox sealed himself in only to meet the man halfway. He was...strangling Sal...killing him. In all the years Equinox had never raised a hand to him save for dragging him off this was the first time he did active harm onto Sal. Sal came very close to dying in this moment to have all air choked out of him.

Yet, before Sal could meet his end the human broke free a final time.

"Salvador...you need...to leave...I can't...stop it anymore...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I'm sorry for putting you through this...this damned mask...this damned house...I'd burn it all if I could...there is nothing here...but misery...and death...YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!"

Sal in fear for his life slowly started moving away trying as much as he could to get away. Now, the voice changed to something evil.

"Hahahaha...so sad...my beloved child...so wonderfully sad...but you still do not break...you have to break...you must break..."

Images of Sal running from the house as everything turned dark voices of people he didn't know sceamed out. Emotions that weren't his own reached inwards gripping onto his heart. Faith, determination, joy, fear, accommodation, neediness, compliance, insincerity, and rage. None of these were his yet he felt these nine emotions so clearly. They warped him inside and out.

Then, he pushed open the door as the masked human came down the stairs and nine other ghost pokemon were with him. They all looked at him with differing emotions. Sal could only scream as he ran and ran and ran never stopping to look back for even a moment.

"Makes sense now right? Why he painted everything white before he met you? He does not want to remember this moment. Or the fact he failed to save his master from becoming a monster. He put himself through so much, only for his nightmares to come true. He threw me away, he didn't need me anymore but then you appeared and he needed me again. To be the one to bare it for him instead of forgetting like he wanted to. It wasn't your fault you couldn't have known. And it isn't Sal's fault either...but he will blame himself...he will torment himself...and he will keep doing so until he breaks."

Salvador sighed to himself.

[mummer]

thinking about. after sally beats that guy to death and shes like I did this. and barry’s like, You didnt do this i did this. I did this. say it, say You did this. but shes still like I did this, I did this. and theyre both right. feeling sick that this is literally the first time barry is actually truthful to her, ever, the first time he’s holding himself accountable for the violence of his presence in her life. the first time. he DID do this. he wants to take all the blame from her, the agency from her. but the contrast is stunning because for sally that truth isnt her last resort, it’s the very first thing she says, she doesnt dodge the blame or lie like barry has done for YEARS, she DID do this, she has to own that, when he never could. honestly, sally feels much worse than she SHOULD about killing a guy in self defense who was only there because of barry’s malignance. like how was any of that her fault. she was being fucking choked on the ground and was going to die otherwise. but no! she refuses! no more lying to herself, no more rewriting her own story, no more!!!!! i did this!!!!!!

[feyre-darling92]

As it was

Sith!Obi-Wan x female reader.

A/N: I couldn’t help myself writing this, in my opinion sith obi-wan is an interesting alternative to both read and write for. Let me know your thoughts on this.

T/W: Swearing, mentions of death, force choking, bad writing, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 1,2k

One year.

One year before they had told you he had died on Mustafar.

One year ago you had lost a part of yourself.

You were working at a cantina, a not very well-payed job but you could keep a low profile without causing too many suspicions.

You hadn’t heard of anyone, the only thing that you’d learned was that Anakin had become Darth Vader.

You, Anakin, Obi-Wa, Ashoka and Padme were a family.

First, you lost Ashoka. Leaving the Jedi Order and watching your sister walking away from you not intending to come back was the first hit.

Learning that Anakin had killed all these younglings and had turned to the dark side was the second one.

Seeing Padme giving birth to the twins and sensing her force signature becoming weaker and weaker before she died was the third one.

And learning that Obi-Wan who was sent to fight Anakin and stop him hadn’t returned from Mustafar was the final and strongest hit.

Everything after this is a blur.

All you know was that now you were here, trying to rebuild your life while trying to stay hidden as Anakin was searching for you.

You stayed on Tatooine mostly to take care of the boy but also because it was easier to hide.

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

You woke up, early as always, and got ready to go to work. Before you left you took off the ring Obi-Wan had given you, the best you could do as marriage was against the code, and locked it in the drawer.

You wanted to wear it all the time, have this part of him with you but you couldn’t risk being recognized or robbed.

You opened the cantina, and the day went just as every day was.

There were a couple of fights, you always had to engage in one of them, you served drinks to creatures who flirted with you and got angry or disappointed when they didn’t get a response from you and had to help some drunk customers find the way out because they were obviously too drunk to go on their own.

You returned home exhausted both mentally and physically. It wasn’t unusual, so you did the same thing you did every time.

You sat on the small couch you had, the best you could buy, and started reading. It was your favorite activity and you loved it even more when you did it with Obi-Wan.

You shallowed at the memory and slowly picked up the book from the coffee table. “The beauty and the beast”. It was your favorite, loving it as a kid and loving it even more when you grew up and finally understood the meaning behind this tale.

A couple of hours had passed and you walked to the kitchen to take a glass of water, still reading when you heard a voice you thought you wouldn’t hear again.

“I see you still love this book”

You froze, slowly looking up from the book, afraid to face the hard truth.

“Obi-Wan?” a whisper came out of you after a few seconds.

“It’s me darling” he smiled softly at you and you tried to speak but you couldn’t.

He took a step forward from the counter where he was leaning in and you instinctively stepped back, avoiding closing the distance between you.

“Are you alive?” you said a tear streaming down your face.

“Of course I am, why would you think that I-”

“I was told you died on Mustafar,” you said.

“I would never leave you without saying goodbye, love”

For a moment you thought that things were the same as before. That you’d lie together and wake up the next morning in each other’s arms.

But no. Things were never going to be as they were. Your relationship was never going to be as it was.

“What happened?” your expression suddenly changed and you sounded colder than you’d like but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Because the man who was standing in front of you, the man you’d love was not in him anymore. And his blue eyes you had so much fallen in love with were now replaced with the color of the sith.

A color you’d learn to hate.

“Y/N, you don’t know how much I missed you I-”

“I asked what happened,” you said calmly although on the inside you felt anything but calm.

His face changed, an expression you hadn’t seen in him before. Coldness and darkness were reflected.

He looked at you for a few seconds before he answered you. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

You had changed as well. And it was true.

Being mentally exhausted you allowed no emotions, at least no happy ones.

“I joined the Sith” he simply said not looking you in the eyes as he did back in the days.

“What have you done?” you muttered and backed away, your actions hurting him even more.

He thought that you’d at least be happy to see him.

“I did what I should have done years ago!” he yelled making you flinch. “I saw through the lies of the Jedi. Please listen to me” he lowered his voice seeing your reaction.

You had a shocked expression. “Listen to what exactly? You were fully dedicated to the Jedi. You- you were sent to stop Anakin. They told me that you died!”

“I know, darling but if you listen to me-”

“No!” you couldn’t hold your emotions back any longer. 

“Because for one year, one fucking year, I mourned for you, I cried for you. I dropped everything because of the Sith, I lost everything because of the Sith and you come here today as if nothing happened and casually mention that you’re one of them! Where were you, Obi-Wan? Where were you when I needed you the most? You didn’t even care! When you gave me this ring you gave a damn promise and you-” you were cut off by the force choking you.

He was choking you.

“Obi-Wan” you tried to breathe but it was impossible.

He finally let you and you dropped to the ground, air finally filling your lungs.

“Listen to me” he said and you didn’t look up, not wanting to face him anymore.

“I joined them because I could become stronger than ever. I could finally gain power, power the Jedi didn’t allow me to have. I don’t have the Jedi order to forbid me to feel and love. Don’t you see it? I am free now”

“You really believe what are you saying?”

“I do”

“Then the man I loved is truly dead” it came out more like a whisper but he heard it.

He kneeled in front of you and grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

He didn’t say anything, he just looked into your eyes, an unreadable expression forming on his face.

“I am not dead, darling. I am reborn. And one day you will see that I am right. Come with me. We can make things as they were. We can live as we did before” he left your chin and caressed your cheek but you immediately pulled away from his touch.

“No, Obi-Wan. We can’t”

Seeing this he got up. “You will join me”

“I will not. And you can’t force me. Because deep down I know that you still love me”

“Come with me. Please”

“You heard me. I am not coming with you”

“This is your last chance, Y/N. Join me or we’ll have to do this the hard way”

At the sound of these words, you got up, ready to fight if you had to.

“I love you, Obi-Wan. I still do. But I will not join you. Not this time”

“I love you too. That’s why you’re coming with me” he said and before you could realize what was happening he waved a hand over your head and everything turned black.

Part 2

[staff]

Today marks the first day of Pride 2020.

It also marks the seventh day of protests held in honor of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery. It’s been 634 days since Botham Jean was murdered by a police officer, 233 days since Atatiana Jefferson was fatally shot by a police officer, 2,123 days since Michael Brown was fatally shot by a police officer, and 2,146 days since Eric Garner was choked to death by a police officer. 

It has been five days since Tony McDade, a Black trans man from Florida, was shot and killed by a police officer.  

At the time of this post, it has been almost 19 hours since David McAtee was shot and killed by the authorities. 

This week has served as a stark reminder that those who have power in this country wield it recklessly and violently against Black people, non-Black POC, and trans people. For some, the power is found in their badge. In others, it’s their skin tone, their socio-economic status, their cisgender privileges, or any other number of privileges one can have. In 2018, with at least 26 trans people who were murdered, all but one were trans women, and all but one were people of color. According to data collected by Human Rights Campaign, this pattern is all too common. It should also be noted that the number of trans people who are murdered is grossly underreported, with many families and newspapers often misgendering those who can no longer speak up for themselves. 

On June 28, 1969, the Stonewall riots began as a response to the constant police raids of nightlife establishments frequented by the LGBTQIA+ community. That night sparked a revolution, with many eye-witnesses crediting Black and Latinx trans women for being brave enough to ignite what would become one of the most pivotal nights in LGBTQIA+ history. Without Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, there would have been no uprising. Without them, there would be no Pride. 

At this moment, it would be tone-deaf and insensitive to commemorate Pride in the same celebratory fashion we usually do. Instead, we’re asking you to make the commitment to better the lives of the oppressed. Do the work to become actively anti-racist if you are not Black. Spread the word that Black lives matter. Spread the word that trans people deserve to feel safe wherever they go. Reblog this post, make your own, or find someone in your life who doesn’t understand and do your best to make them understand. Donate if you can. 

The first Pride was a riot. We stand with you.

[comewithmeintothedeep]

Reader X Female Ghost

Word Count: 3762 Explicit: Yes. Warnings: Noncon, choking, possession, marathon sex, loss of consciousness, somnophilia.

——————————————————

In life, Irene was a woman who was done wrong. She had it all. An aspiring career, a stable income and some luxuries for herself, and a loving and devoted husband. Or…so she thought.

Until she caught him sleeping with another woman and threatened to expose him for it. The very next day, she awoke in her home as a ghost. The only memory she had was a difficulty to breathe before she blacked out. But she was certain that her husband had strangled her to death.

And for years, she had watched her husband and that whore of a woman sleep together in her bed. Dirty the sheets with their intercourse and he bore unto her several children. It was only natural for Irene to harbour resentment towards the life that was cut short and the man who had cut it short in the first place.

It wasn’t difficult for her to make the house feel unwelcome. She wanted to ruin his marriage and his happy life that he robbed her of. It wasn’t difficult. But she was disappointed when the woman her ex husband cheated on her with decided to stay in her house with their children and banished him. If Irene were still alive, she would have done the same.

But that wretched man killed her before she had the chance.

Irene was forced to watch that other woman take control of the house and raise her bastard children in it for years. For decades, many faces lived in the house until it was eventually abandoned, ‘mysterious’ tragedies taking place there. Misplaced ladders, accidental poisonings…all strange things that led to unfortunate casualties.

Well…unfortunate for Irene’s victims, yes. But not for her. Vengeance was sweet and best served cold, after all.

For a long time, she enjoyed the solitude. No one pesky to disturb her. She could remain young and beautiful forever with no one to hold her back. Even though she was dead, there was something…freeing about her condition.

But once again, she found herself yearning for something else. Chances for something more than being in permanent limbo. No…she wanted to live again. Even though that was impossible, she wanted to live.

Besides. The world had changed. Perhaps there was more to it now than what she had known before. Maybe…there was something for her after so many years of bitterness and solitude.

You only knew the rumours. You were a ghost hunter. Not professionally, anyways. It was more of a hobby for you. You had a few friends you did it with, but you could hardly call them friends. After all, most of them were not too keen on venturing into the abandoned places you wanted to go into and would rather just wait in the car with the rest of the equipment. You weren’t even sure they paid attention half the time.

Sometimes they’d just take off without you. A bunch of wimps, honestly. Well…more like jerks, but that didn’t matter much to you. You never invested too much effort into them anyways to care about them.

This was an old house, likely built in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. You heard stories of a woman that had died here of mysterious causes, though apparently the investigation years later suspected her husband of foul play. Many other misfortunes took place here which led to the house being abandoned as it just couldn’t be sold to anyone and fell into disarray.

It was here you were traversing with your handful of ghost hunting equipment. You were careful to show the house proper respect. After all, you didn’t want to anger a potentially vindictive ghost. You had your basics with you. An EVP, a spirit box, an MEL meter, and, of course, your flashlight. You didn’t need it quite yet, since the sun hadn’t gone down just yet.

Even though ghosts were more active at night, that didn’t mean you couldn’t get a head start, after all.

Irene, however, was baffled. Who the Hell were you and what were you doing in her house? The audacity alone was enough to make her want to cause you to trip and fall down the stairs and crack your skull open. But something about you…she found oddly familiar. She wasn’t sure if you reminded her of her husband or his replacement wife, but there was something about you that seemed familiar. Something about you.

And it made her…curious.

You were surprised when you already felt a presence in the house. You had a few milder cases, but this was the strongest one you had ever felt. Turning on your EVP and your spirit box, you tried to get a recording of anything you could get. Irene, however, was…confused. She had never seen devices like yours and she was uncertain what they were even for.

You didn’t call out to her. You weren’t even certain. You couldn’t hear her voice because she wasn’t speaking to you. You could only hear a faint static. But that was enough to make you pull out your MEL.

For a moment, Irene felt a twinge of fear, not knowing what any of these devices did. But as you pointed your device at her, she felt apprehensive and moved backwards up the stairs. Her one place of solace was her bedroom, where she felt the strongest. The most in control. It was where she died, after all. And even though her body had long since been disposed of, it was where her spirit attached itself the strongest.

You could see her on the device. Or…more accurately, you could measure the disturbance she was causing and the cold signature she was giving off. As she was moving away, you were curious, mistakenly believing that she was leading you somewhere on purpose.

And initially, she wasn’t. She was just trying to get away from you.

Until she had a thought. It had been a very long time since she had interacted with a living person and she was beginning to grow tired of living in this limbo. And you were here…all alone…and so very vulnerable. She couldn’t get the life she had back. She couldn’t come back to life.

But…perhaps she could still live. Through you.

Besides…she didn’t want to admit it, but in her bitterness she was also lonely. So…so very lonely. Perhaps it was time for her to share a lifelong companion once again. It was a different context, but she didn’t care. The results would be worth it.

All she had to do was lead you to where she was strongest.

And follow you did. Like a lamb to the slaughter, you followed Irene right to her bedroom, exactly where she wanted you. Exactly where her power was greatest, unaware of her true intentions with you.

It was once you reached her bedroom that you finally decided to call out to her, not knowing she had no intentions of answering you. At least…not verbally. You asked for her name. She did not give it to you. You would know it soon enough. After all, you would be sharing the same body very shortly.

She was going to make the most of you. Your warm…fresh body.

Once you were standing at the foot of her bed, looking around you at the site where she died, Irene closed the door behind you, making you jump and turn around. You didn’t want to panic. You’ve never had this happen to you. You could feel the air grow cold around you, your hair standing on end. The cold spot was all around you and you suddenly realized the main draw of ghost hunting.

That no matter what, you couldn’t properly defend yourself if a ghost decided to attack you.

Luckily for you, Irene had no intention of attacking you. At least…not in the way you were thinking. And luckily for her, she had you right where she wanted you.

You were in the perfect position for her to take you all for herself.

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Oh God…were you going to die in here?

Before you could think any longer, you suddenly felt a pressure wrap around your neck and a pressure against your lips. You couldn’t see Irene, but her lips smashed against yours and her hand was wrapped tightly around your throat as she pushed you down against the bed.

You were trapped and before you could realize what was happening, you realized just as quickly that you were unable to breathe. You started to panic, clawing at the invisible appendage cutting off your air supply, but it was impossible. You couldn’t fight back against something you couldn’t see. Something you couldn’t touch.

Desperately, you tried to gasp for air. But even that didn’t give you any respite because as soon as your mouth parted, you could feel a cold and slimy appendage that tasted like linens and iron worm its way down your throat. Meanwhile as your vision was blacking out, you could feel a cold hand touch you where you were most sensitive. Your assailant didn’t even need to undo your clothes. The vindictive ghost could simply touch you and get you worked up without any effort at all.

Irene was careful not to be too rough with you. She didn’t want to kill you, after all. She needed you alive. She wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again. This was her one chance to get a life back and she was going to make the most of it.

Still, she couldn’t help but get excited as she handled you. After all, it had been decades since she had last had sex. And the last person she had sex with was the man who cheated on her and then murdered her in her own bed. She could stand to indulge a bit.

And you were so warm. Warm and alive.

You couldn’t breathe. Your whole body was starting to go numb. Your lips were wet, Irene’s tongue curling around yours and tracing every crevice of your mouth. You couldn’t see her. You were powerless to stop her. Even in moments where your mouth was free, no amount of begging or pleading could get her to stop.

You were human and she was not. You were completely at her mercy.

Soon enough, Irene had decided you were prepared enough. Her hand through your pants had made very wet and quick work of you, building a pressure and heat in your abdomen that you could no longer ignore, your hips writhing and squirming both in an effort to try and get away from her and stimulating you at the same time. You were so helpless…

You were perfect.

There was one thing that needed to happen in order to connect you two.

Over and over it continued to happen. You were brought to the edge of unconsciousness only to be coaxed back. Your senses were dull, but you could feel something…wet envelop where the ghost had been previously touching you. It was cold and slimy and uncomfortable. It made you shiver and whimper, the hold on your throat never ceasing. Your very breath was at your assailant’s whim and mercy.

Then, all of a sudden, lips were back on you and there was a heavy and rapid rocking that made the bed creak and bump against the wall. You could feel hips snapping against yours and a pressure and friction against your most sensitive parts. It overwhelmed you and you were left gasping and panting for air despite Irene’s mouth making a mess of yours.

You tried once again to beg. To plead for your life. For your attacker to let you go. The knot was building and building and building in you and you didn’t want it to snap. You didn’t want to cum. You just wanted to be let go so you could go home and forget this happened. You would never hunt for ghosts again, but you just wanted to be let go.

But you would get no such freedom. No such release from this prison Irene intended to trap you in. She had a need she was chasing and she needed you to fulfill it. She could feel you twitching against her, hear your slickness reverberate around the room as she fucked you. There was a wet spot dampening your pants where the ghost woman was making an absolute mess of you, but she didn’t care.

Your body felt so good. She was going to claim it and there was nothing you could do. Your body belonged to her, and she was going to make sure of it.

You shook your head furiously, feeling your genitals twitch against the ensuing and relentless stimulation being forced upon you. You didn’t want to cum. You didn’t want to cum! You begged again for this to stop, but it was no use. Irene began picking up speed, her grip on your throat tightening as the force of her thrusts pushed you more into her disused and decaying mattress.

Soon enough, you couldn’t take it. All at once, your body taut as a bow string snapped and trembled, you letting out a strangled cry as you shook, tears sliding down your cheeks as your unsolicited orgasm ripped through you. You could feel yourself gushing in your undergarments and it made you feel so ashamed and embarrassed. All you could do was cry. Cry and whimper as you came down from the high you didn’t want to get pushed off of.

You could feel it clenching against you, an added slickness to the horrible mess between your legs as you felt it shudder. Seemed it got what it wanted from you. It was your only relief. Your only respite during this horrific ordeal.

You thought it was over. That the ghost would finally let you go after it was done with you.

The moment you tried to get up, you were suddenly pulled back against the mattress from behind. The hand that held you back before was fastened around your throat again, cutting off your breath and stopping you from screaming for help. Rather than a weight forcing you down, the hand around your neck just pulled you flush against the mattress.

Once again, Irene’s hand was back where you had just cum from, running her hand all over your messy sex. Cumming together was how you two were now bonded. But now, she had to drain your power in order to take over your body. And the only way to do that was to make you cum.

Over and over and over again.

And with how overstimulated you were, that was likely not going to be very difficult. She didn’t mind how much you writhed on the bed. She had you pinned by the neck and honestly, Irene thought it was adorable how much you clawed at your own neck, trying to figure out how to get her off while she was getting you off.

She never thought she would enjoy sex this much ever again, but it was addicting how much you were struggling against her.

You just wanted this to be over. You never wanted to get into this situation with a ghost, but now there was no escape. Your very life was in the hands of your assailant and you weren’t willing to die. But you just wanted this to stop…you couldn’t take it. Rapidly, her hand was making quick work of you. The overabundance of stimulation had you trembling and writhing. You were practically leaking through your clothes with how much fluids were coming out of you.

Your cries were cut off by the hand clasped around your neck keeping you anchored to the mattress and muffled by the tongue wriggling around your mouth.

Slowly and surely with every orgasm pulled out of you, Irene’s power grew stronger. She was so close to possessing you. So close to gaining control of your body and being able to get her power back. Get a life back. Even if she couldn’t always stay in control of you, she would be attached to you forever, haunting you for the rest of your living life.

There was no rest for you. Your legs were becoming jelly. You couldn’t even struggle anymore by the time Irene pulled a fourth orgasm out of you. You were tired and unable to fight back. You were completely pliant and losing strength. Losing will. Losing life.

You wouldn’t die. But you’d wish you could.

Because soon enough, once your next orgasm gushed out of you and coursed through your body, a very different feeling began to take hold. Complete and total paralysis. You felt as though you were pulled out of your own body. You could feel everything that was happening to it, but you couldn’t move. You were completely helpless.

To your horror, your body began to move on its own. You didn’t move it. You weren’t in control of your body.

You had been possessed. Irene was now fully in control of you, and all you could do was helplessly exist there while she touched at you and felt you up.

And felt you up, she did. Irene couldn’t remember the last time she had flesh. Actual living flesh. Warm and soft under her hands – she had hands! Hand she could touch things with! And she felt warm! Actual warmth under her skin. Skin! With flesh and bone underneath.

She had done it! Finally, Irene had a life back. She may have stolen it through incredibly unethical and dubious means, but it was far too late in her afterlife to think about the moral implications of everything she had done after her death, now.

She had a body. A real human body. All she had to do was keep it.

And there was only one successful way to do that. She had to bond with her body.

And of course, the best way to bond with her own body was to feel it. Know it. Understand it on a physical level.

So, she quickly got to work undressing, much to your horror. You had never had such a miserable experience and all you could do was wail internally in despair. You couldn’t do anything, but you could feel everything she was doing to you – as you. The way her hands glided across her skin, pinched at it, grabbed at it.

You definitely didn’t like how quickly Irene found some of your most sensitive spots.

Irene, on the other hand, was absolutely loving this experience. It was one thing to make you cum over and over again and drink up your energy to become stronger. But it was another to feel the aftershocks of the overstimulation herself and the sheer sensitivity of it all. Even just grazing your genetaila made her shudder in your body, spasming and twitching.

It made her skin buzz. Her spine crawled ever so pleasantly.

Such a perfect body you had. She couldn’t wait to cum while in it.

Unlike the way she silenced you, Irene didn’t let herself be silenced. She had a voice! Finally, for the first time in decades, she had a voice. A voice that echoed around the walls in absolute ecstasy and bliss. She had never felt this good in so so so long. If she thought she could get addicted to you before, she was sure she never wanted to leave you now.

Which was a good thing for her. Because she had every intention on bonding with your body and never leaving. You were hers, now. And Irene was going to do whatever she wanted with you.

While she was panting and writhing and crying out, furiously touching herself and pushing her way to another orgasm while in your body, you had never felt so sick. You just wanted to go home. Wanted all of this to be some horrible nightmare you would wake up from.

But you knew you wouldn’t. Your life was over, stolen by someone else who was long passed. You weren’t even sure if you would ever live again after this or if Irene was just going to control your body forever, live a lie wearing your face.

You had no idea how many times she had cum in your body. You stopped counting after the seventh time your body was forced into orgasm and she still didn’t seem to be finished. You gave up, knowing that there was no stopping this. No changing this. This was your life. Your doom. You were now cursed and imprisoned in your own body by a spirit you didn’t even know.

By the time Irene was finally finished with your body, your private parts swollen from overuse and friction and shriveled by the dampness you constantly excreted without rest, it was well past sundown. At the very least, you were still in your body. Still sort of conscious.

She had access to your memories, and thus, knew exactly how to get home to where you lived. Feeling completely checked out and dissociated, you just watched her wear your skin as she walked along the street. You had no idea what awaited you once she reached your home.

But all you knew was that there wouldn’t be a home for you ever again. Your body was stolen from you and there was nothing you could do.

She did, in-fact, arrive home and once she did, she explored just about everywhere she could, acquainting herself with everything that belonged to you. She was learning so much more in your body than she ever could trapped inside that horrible empty house. She quite liked having a life as full and vibrant as yours.

But admittedly, despite how full of life she was, she was actually rather tired.

So, Irene easily found your bed, stripping herself of all of your clothes and climbing under the covers. Comfortably, she drifted off. She hadn’t slept at all in years and this was by far the most comfortable sleep she ever had.

While you tried to fight her for your body in her sleep, she easily overpowered you, now. And all you could do was tremble as her soul took over yours and resumed your entanglement of unsolicited stimulation in your sleep.

Even in her dreams, you would get no rest. This was your life, now. The plaything of a vindictive ghost that decided to steal your life from you all at once in one night, without a shred of regret or remorse.

[soulmate-game]

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.