#unlike say the force gloves and their fuck you explosion

[ask-hector-and-isaac]

Post COD Hector:On a scale of 1 to 10, how hard it was to craft that Laser Sword? You know gathering the materials and all

*sigh* It cannot be quantified. I was lucky enough that my Tiramisu was able to decipher an ancient inscription in the Aiolon Ruins. If she weren't by my side, I would have never noticed it.

It is a long, tedious process. The swords required are all built over each other, meaning you have to forge multiple copies of the same sword. And some of the materials come from monsters that are reluctant to drop their treasure... I killed them over and over until I could not feel my arms attached to my body. Good thing I wasted most of my time in the Infinite Corridor, where time does not pass...

But it was worth it. The Laser Blade is as indeed as Sage Eneomaos promised. And Isaac seemed to agree...

[t0wnspersonb]

Day Off (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

Word Count: 2,158

Warnings: FLUFF, bad language, suggestive language, my shit writing lmao

Summary: You hardly ever got to spend time with your husband, so when he has a day off, well, your heart can’t help but be entirely full. Especially when you see him interacting with your children.

~~~~

Anonymous said:

Hello💜💜 I was wondering if you could make an fluff/smut imagine about where Bakugou where the reader is his beloved wife they both have kids and just shows how their daily lives are. Btw I’m a huge fan of your imagines🥰

~~~~

I hope you enjoy this request anon! I didn’t do smut this time around, but here is some fluffy papa Bakugou for you! Also thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad you like my shit writing lol.

I always enjoy writing fluffy shit like this lmao. I love Bakugou with all my fucking heart and I hope you guys enjoy this too!

~~~~

You loved your family, you would do anything for them, the unconditional love that you held in your heart was something that would never be questioned.

 But sometimes, you loved your alone time just a tad bit more.

 Like now. 

 The house was clean, the house was quiet; and you actually got to enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee, fresh and incredibly delicious for your sleep deprived senses.

 You were an early riser, maybe it was because of all the morning training and runs that Bakugou had forced you to do when you guys were younger, or maybe it was because when you had kids you had realized that there just wasn’t enough time in the day to get everything done. 

 Quite possibly it was the latter.

 But everything was done, the laundry, the dishes, sweeping and mopping, you had gone to the grocery store yesterday, a surprisingly pleasant trip since the kids were actually behaving for once.

 You owe it to your husband, who had gotten off of his hero duties early yesterday and had helped you around the house, and he was off today.

 The first time in a long time.

 You probably should’ve lingered in your shared bed just a little longer, you hardly had alone time with the explosion hero as it was, but… you had been dying to read the new book that you had gotten weeks ago. Bakugou could handle waking up alone for one day, right?

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You shit nerd, how long have you been doing this?” his familiar gruff voice sighed from the entrance of the living room.

 You glanced up from your book, a small smile tugging at your lips as you took in his sleepy figure.

 Bakugou’s blonde hair was even more disheveled, his sweats hung low on his hips, one of his large hands was underneath his shirt, absentmindedly scratching at the skin that stretched across his sculpted stomach.

 You took a lot of pleasure in the fact that you got to see the most popular pro hero so domestic, so casual.

 His ring caught the morning light streaming through the window, glinting beautifully as he stretched out his muscular arms above his head, his shirt rising up, exposing the lower half of his stomach to your greedy eyes. His biceps bulged out beautifully against the sleeves of his shirt.

 You also took pleasure in just staring at your husband, that beautiful specimen of a man was all yours.

 “What time is it?” you asked. 

 “Almost 9.” 

 “Hmmm. Since 4:30 then?” You pondered, placing your bookmark between the pages, and closing the book completely, placing it on the coffee table.

 Bakugou made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as he padded off towards the kitchen.

 You laughed softly to yourself, following after the muscular male. 

 “Stop fucking staring at me.” Bakugou grumbled, vermilion eyes sliding over to you briefly as he drank down his glass of water.

 “Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” you asked innocently, he walked over to you, his hands coming down on either side of your face, squeezing your cheeks together tightly.

 “Not when the wife ditches her husband in the morning to read a stupid fucking book.” he sneered.

 You laughed, grabbing at his much larger hands, and pulling them away from your face.

 “I’m sorry Katsu, what can I do to make it up to you?” you teased lightly.

 You shouldn’t have asked.

 A wicked smirk stretched across his face. “Get on your knees.” his voice was husky, commanding as he stared at you, daring you to challenge him.

 You could feel your lips part at his words, a pink blush beginning to dust your cheeks.

 It had been a long time since you -

 “Mama?” 

 The moment was gone completely, the wide smirk that Bakugou wore turned into a deep scowl.

 “Good morning baby.” you cooed turning to look at your small child. He was the spitting image of Bakugou, but he was the sweetest boy, completely unlike his father.

 He rubbed at his small eyes before they landed on Bakugou, a sweet smile stretching across his face. 

 “Papa. Up.” he held out his little arms, urging Bakugou to pick him up.

 You could see the scowl visibly melting away from Bakugou’s face, replaced with a gentle one as he gazed at his son. 

 It was hard for Bakugou, being able to spend time with his children, despite how rough he was, how crude his words could be; he was a wonderful father, a wonderful husband.

 You were entirely lucky.

 Bakugou easily swung his child up into his muscular arms. Your son sighing in happiness as he rests his head against Bakugou’s broad shoulders, his thumb coming up to rest between his lips.

 The sight of the two of them together melted your heart completely, clenching tightly in your chest as Bakugou pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your son’s head.

 “Papa’s home today?” Another familiar voice spoke. You turned to see your daughter staring at Bakugou in curiosity.

 She was the oldest, and the spitting image of you, except… well her personality was entirely her father’s.

 “Why don’t you guys go watch some cartoons while I get breakfast started?” you hummed.

 “Come on you shit stain.” Bakugou ruffled his daughter’s hair, urging her out of the kitchen into the living room.

 You and your daughter frowned, you at the fact that he just called your child a shit stain, and her because he messed up her already messy hair.

 “Your breath smells like shit Papa.” your daughter said, tone annoyed as she shoved his hand away from her head.

 You sighed tiredly, hand resting on the side of your face.

 “Oi, you aren’t allowed to curse.” Bakugou scolded, a large tick mark appearing on his forehead and he grabbed your daughter’s head pushing her out of the kitchen.

 You could hear their loud bickering fading into the living room, causing you to sigh deeply once again. 

 But a smile twitched on your lips, it had been a long time since you guys got to enjoy the morning together like this.

 When you had finally finished cooking breakfast you went to go grab the rest of your family. 

 Your heart melted at the sight. Bakugou held both kids in his arms, your children looking incredibly small as they cuddled up against their father.

 Despite the fact that your eldest and Bakugou always fought, she was a daddy’s girl through and through. Bakugou’s fingers combed through her unruly hair absentmindedly, while his other hand rubbed up and down your son’s back.

 Their eyes were glued to the TV as some anime played.

 You cleared your throat, all three pairs of eyes flickering to your form. 

 “Breakfast is ready.” you smiled, watching as your little girl climbed off of Bakugou padding past you towards her seat in the kitchen. Bakugou lifted up your son, easily carrying him into the kitchen and setting him down on his highchair.

 “What should we do today?” you mused as you guys began eating, Bakugou was feeding your son, making a disgusted face when he spit the food back out.

 “I need new shoes for school mama.” Your daughter said, mouth full of food.

 Bakugou made another disgusted face, handing your daughter a napkin.

 “Wipe your face brat, and don’t talk with your mouth full.” He lectured. 

 “Can we go to the park today?” her eyes lit up, ignoring her father completely as she tossed the crumpled-up napkin at his face.

 “Don’t throw shit at me! Don’t ignore me either!” he growled, a tick mark appearing on his face once again.

 “I’m trying to talk to mama, and you keep interrupting, annoying papa.” she snapped back.

 You sighed. “No fighting you two. We should be able to go to the mall today....” you trailed off, trying to remember if there was anything important you had to do today.

 “I need more workout shirts, and new training gloves. Damn Deku borrowed mine and never returned them.” Bakugou said gruffly.

 “Then I guess we can all go on a trip today.” you smiled. “Let’s finish up and start getting ready.”

 ****

 You almost forgot what it was like to bring the entire family out, it had been too long since the last time you guys did something like this.

 Needless to say, you were already exhausted.

 It took forever to get everyone out of the house. Bakugou did his best to help get the kids ready but… between the constant fighting with him and your daughter and your son's endless crying about not wanting to go and not wanting to put on pants, and Bakugou’s attempts at intimacy as you got ready... well, you wanted to get this over with already.

 “What do you think?” your daughter asked, pointing her toe out, the Uravity themed shoes on full display for you.

 “Very pretty, do you want those ones?” you asked. 

 She nodded excitedly.

 “Why do you want round face’s shoes? Why not mine?” Bakugou grumbled, staring down at his daughter accusingly.

 “Yours are ugly papa. I don’t like the colors. Uravity is my favorite hero.” She said face blank as she stared at the blonde male.

 This was definitely a sight to see, considering that Bakugou had your son perched on his hip and he was glaring down at the small girl who was glaring right back at him.

 “Huh? Ground Zero isn’t your favorite hero?” he barked.

 “No. Uravity is.”

 “Well mama’s favorite hero is Ground Zero.” He smirked, eyes flickering over to you.

 “Actually, Red Riot is my favorite hero.” You teased, soft laughter escaping your lips as your husband’s face fell at the mention of his best friend.

 “Let’s go over here!” Your daughter said excitedly, the conversation completely abandoned as she took sight of the toy store across from the shoe store you guys were at.

 “Hold on. I still have to pay.” you said in amusement, walking over to the cashier.

 Bakugou stood next to you, one of his large hands resting on the small of your back. When you had finished paying and began trailing after your excited daughter, he leaned in close.

 “You’re getting punished for saying that.” Bakugou growled near your ear. 

 “Is that a promise?” you challenged, ignoring the blush in your cheeks and the pleasant twist that occurred in the pit of your stomach.

 “You can count on it.” he growled, a smirk playing on his lips before he walked off to catch up with your daughter.

 You were definitely looking forward to it.

 ****

 You sighed loudly as you sat down on the park bench. 

 “Here.” Bakugou handed you one of the drinks he got from the vending machine, his eyes never leaving his children that were now playing on the playground equipment.

 “Did you have fun today?” you asked, resting your head against his shoulder as he took a seat beside you.

 “No.” he snorted, and then his expression changed, his eyes softening completely, his face relaxed. “It’s been a while since we got to spend the day together.”

 His large fingers found your own, intertwining together tightly. “Thank you.”

 You glanced over at him curiously. “For what?”

 You could see a soft blush coating his cheeks. He was embarrassed. It wasn’t anything new though, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was terrible at verbally expressing his feelings. 

 “You’re a good mother, and a good wife. Thank you for always taking care of the kids… and me.” he grumbled.

 Your expression softened, your heart warming completely. It was rare when Bakugou praised you like this, again, he was terrible at expressing his feelings verbally, especially something so gentle and heartfelt like this.

 “Of course, Katsu.” you beamed at him.

 He scoffed at your expression, but reached for you, cupping the side of your face as he stooped low, pressing his mouth against yours carefully.

 You hummed low in your throat; eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back. Sweet and gentle, incredibly warm and full of love.

 “Ew. You actually let papa do that? That’s disgusting.” You broke free from the kiss and turned to see your daughter staring at you guys in disgust. 

 You laughed softly at her comment, Bakugou on the other hand…

 “Aren’t you supposed to be watching your brother?” he asked, eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

 “No wonder Deku is the number 1 hero.” Your daughter muttered to herself before turning to walk away.

 “What the fuck did you just say you shit?” Bakugou growled, standing up and swooping down, easily throwing your daughter over his shoulders.

 She squealed loudly, contagious giggles escaping her lips as Bakugou jogged over to the playground. He scooped up your other child, swinging him around rapidly.

 A soft smile twitched at your lips as you watched them.

 You loved your little family.

[oliviayamaoka]

The Distraction Continuation (Ghostface / Jed Olsen / Danny Johnson x Reader)

As requested, this is a continuation of the Distraction fic I made. Check out the first fic if you haven’t already. Enjoy! :)

You sighed deeply as you crossed your arms, shutting your eyes in slight annoyance at what was to come. Another trial. You hadn’t been in one for a while but your break was rather short-lived. There were three others that stood by your side. Ace Visconti, David King, and Yui Kimura. You respected them and actually enjoyed their company. Ace was funny, David taught you a couple of things, and Yui was always nice to you, encouraging you.

“Where do you think we’ll go this time?” Yui asked you, nudging your elbow with her own. You instantly lit up. Human interaction was comforting.

“Haven’t been to Hawkins or Glenvale in a bit.” Y/N replied with a slight shrug.

“My bet is the asylum.” Ace interrupted, pointing finger guns with that stupid smirk of his. Yui rolled her eyes, she didn’t seem to like Ace very much. Not since he flirted with her one time, even if it was jokingly.

“We might actually be there if Ace himself says so.” David said as the familiar gust of air surrounded the four of you.

You shut your eyes tightly, getting chills from the cold fog and air. The smell of fire and spring overcame you. Y/N opened their eyes, realizing that Ace’s bet was right. As always. A small laugh escaped your lips, a feeling of enjoyment before all hell could break loose again. 

Your gaze averted to the familiar structure of the Crotus Prenn Asylum. A sound played in your head, the screech of the Nurse. You were always curious about her but never got the chance to even talk to her unlike... no, it was one time. You weren’t gonna go around and try talk to killers like you did with him.

You put your palm to your forehead, cringing at the memory. Not in a bad way but maybe you could’ve done something differently. No, not really. Jed was a psychopath, a murderer. He was charming in a fucked up sort of way. You sighed as you walked towards a generator behind the grey brick walls.

There wasn’t any indication that it was the Pig or Freddy, thankfully. You began to work on the generator. Your thoughts turned to the fear of being hooked, stabbed, and hurt. You shuddered at the thought of it, the feeling of the hook would probably never leave you. Death was forever here, unfortunately. Elodie and Felix’s conversation had given you hope, maybe there was a way out of here.

“Shit.” You mumble as you shielded your eyes from the small explosion. 

Y/N huffed. You felt slightly disappointed in yourself and began again. Your head perked up as you heard stomping. It wasn’t loud enough to be the Oni or Trapper.

You kept a head on the generator as you noticed a dark figure stomping towards you. You needed a moment to process the situation. It was Ghostface? Oh shit, it was him, you thought. Flashbacks of your last encounter played in your head, he was definitely pissed off and you couldn’t blame it at this point.

“Don’t fucking try it.” He muttered in reference to you breaking into a sprint.

You felt panic wash over you as you quickly observed your surroundings. There weren’t any nearby pallets or vaults, it was a random open area near a hill with a chest and hook. Perfect, just perfect. Ghostface was quicker than usual, he grabbed you by the waist aggressively to tackle you down.

Ghostface held a knife to the back of your head once you hit the ground. You grunted as he put down all his weight onto you and assured that you wouldn’t be able to escape. The ground felt so uncomfortable, especially against your face. There was a few moments of you struggling beneath him to escape but it became no use. You stopped struggling after he pressed the blade against your skin.

“Didn’t bring a toolbox this time, Y/N?” He asked mockingly, pressing his gloved finger over the small slit. You winced at the stinging sensation but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“You know how to hold a grudge, Jed.” You replied. You were utterly terrified yet you always felt the need to reply to his stupid remarks.

“Indeed I do.” He replied, grabbing you and making you stand up. He held the knife to your back and pressed it slightly.

Ghostface was actually angry. He didn’t seem to mind actually hurting you or pressing the knife into your skin. You gasped at the painful sensation as he looked around, he saw the killer shack. He held a tight grip on your shoulder as he forced you to walk that way.

You instantly knew where he wanted to go. You just hoped the basement wasn’t there. Of course, you had known that this day would eventually come. But, why now? It was such awful timing, especially with the blue mood you had. Once the two of you reached the shack, he shoved you onto the ground aggressively.

“You’re pathetic... talking and talking last time we met. Now, you’re just a shitty excuse for a survivor.” He said to you. You scoffed.

“If it helps, Jed, I’m sorry.” Y/N replied. Your hand reached to the back of your neck where he had cut you. There wasn’t much blood but it still hurt. You stared at your bloodied fingertips as the man got more infuriated.

“You don’t get to call me that. And why the fuck are you apologizing?” He questioned you. His tone was venomous, this terrified you but him killing you was inevitable and well... you wanted to see him, anyways.

“If you didn’t care, you’d have hooked me now. I must’ve really hurt your feelings, huh?” You said, half-jokingly but you were also genuine.

“I don’t care.” He replied to you almost instantly. You knew that was a lie.

“Then why won’t you hook me? You could’ve slashed my back open but instead you pinned me to the ground... weirdo.” You mumbled.

He fell silent for a second. Ghostface was a bit baffled by you. Why weren’t you begging for your life? The version he remembered of you was different, or maybe he killed too many survivors that would beg. Not only that but he planned this out thoroughly. He was practically counting on you to scream and beg for your life. Ghostface had even made an offering for this realm because he researched it extensively, as he did with most of his previous murders.

Despite what he may have thought, Y/N was absolutely terrified. However, there was a strange feeling of attraction to him. Not necessarily a crush just yet but there was also a rivalry in which you felt comfortable talking to him. He felt like a real person. Well, of course he was a real person but you had no trouble making shitty remarks to him.

“I want this to last because you were being a little bitch last time. I’ve been dying to slice you open and make you regret that stupid little stunt you pulled.” He said to you.

You sat up, bringing one knee to your chest casually. There was a feeling of bravery that washed over you like last time. Y/N sighed deeply and looked around the shack. It was a basic shake. No totem, no gen.

“Yeah, sure... then do it.” You said to him.

“You’re not making this any easier.” He replied, more annoyed with you.

“Nothing you do is gonna make me regret what I did. Even if you do kill me and make me suffer, I’m still gonna come back alive. I’ve been puked on, trapped, and even had some weird ass trap put onto my head.” You said, standing up and pointing your finger to his chest.

“But you, Danny, only have a knife. I know the Legion or whatever their names are can use that better than you. You’re just a weirdo with a mask.” Y/N finished.

Ghostface seemed rather stunned, yet offended. Mainly because he couldn’t doubt anything you said. It became known that the Legion studied the human anatomy extensively, more than Danny ever cared to do. His area of expertise was stalking and memorizing a person’s schedule. But still. his ego was always bigger than any logic. The cloaked man grabbed your wrist. He oddly didn’t grab it too tight, he lifted your arm over your head.

“And what does that make you? I’m still better than you to some degree. You’re trapped here because the Entity thinks you deserve it and I get to kill anybody I desire.” He said, the tip of his blade poking your stomach.

“I guess we’re both shitty people.” You shrugged as his grip somewhat loosened. He sighed deeply before throwing you towards the generator.

“I had hoped killing you would be satisfying.” He muttered, bitter that your reaction wasn’t what he imagined. You fixed your shirt slightly and leaned against the generator. A part of slowly began to accept the growing crush you developed on the strange murderer, you didn’t care at this point since you were damned to an eternity of trials. 

“It probably would’ve been if you weren’t so easy to talk to.” You said to him as he snapped his head towards you, confused for a moment. Easy to talk to? He scoffed in response.

“Easy? You’re the fucking weirdo here.” He said, with a bit of a defeated tone.

“You’re no ladykiller, Danny, but... I’m charmed. I guess it’s something killers like you do though.” You said to him.

“I don’t charm or seduce people. I watch them.” He corrected you.

“Explains a lot.” You said, looking at your nails. Ghostface was quick to give into his ego and crossed his arms in a very stubborn manner.

“Actually, I did. As Jed Olsen, anyways. People were so trusting of him and neglected to suspect the new guy in town. It made it easy to watch people and I had a lot of excuses to spend hours doing so.” He said to you.

“Jed sounds nice.” Y/N shrugged.

“Well, Jed isn’t real, babe. He’s a shitty facade of what people like in a person. Made it so much easier for myself.” Ghostface said.

“Okay then,.. what did you do? As a career?” You asked him.

“I was a journalist and wrote for the Roseville Gazette. They made me cover my own killings and I did a good job doing so. Nobody could really understand my work though, no matter how much I tried to when I was Jed.” He said, a proud tone in his voice as he spoke. You were weirded out and cautious but you wanted to try and understand him.

“So, is that why you do it? For art?” You asked him as his head perked.

“That’s exactly why! There’s something very beautiful about the redness unique to somebody pouring out of them, even mixing with others. Not only that but just toying around and seeing how loud one can scream. Each scream is so unique and different. And just like art, you can fix your mistakes if it isn’t done right.” He explained, he seemed more relaxed. 

“Fix? But wouldn’t they be dead?” You asked him, genuinely confused. 

“You have to be an expert craftsman to fix it. A scream is a delicacy, something I choose not to indulge myself in often. Y’know, don’t want anybody hearing what goes on. When I do want to hear the screaming, it’s usually when my target has piqued my interest or mildly annoyed me. It feels rewarding after going through all the effort to memorize their lifestyle.” He said.

“A weird but cool way of looking at it, I suppose.” Y/N said. 

You didn’t really care about morality at this point. Such things as the Entity exist, anyways, You weren’t sure what you did to deserve being stranded here. Even if you did have a weird romantic interest in him, so what? Why would the Entity care? Why would any Gods care? And even then, you seemed to have an interest in his hobby. Blood and killing didn’t faze you anymore.

“You think so?” He asked you. 

“Depends on the person, I guess. I’d only do it to bad people.” You said.

“But, you’d do what I do?” He asked you.

“Yeah...?” You responded. Danny seemed a bit giddy.

“How would you do it?” Ghostface asked, he seemed way too excited to hear about your non-existent methods of killing.

“I don’t know...” Y/N replied, feeling somewhat flustered by how close he was to you. It was a different type of feeling when he wasn’t trying to stab you. 

“If you want, I could show you some pictures and give you tips.” He said.

“And kill who? We’re stuck in this hellhole.” You reminded him.

“What about the other survivors? They can’t all be innocent.” Ghostface said to you. He had some appreciation for you since you listened. It was crazy how much this strange man can switch up.

“No, never. I’m not that crazy.” You said as the loud horn of the exit gates blared. You looked around, really surprised. He seemed just as surprised.

“That long?” He questioned. 

“Guess I’m just that good of a distraction.” You said to him as he silently sighed in frustration but didn’t seem to care. A part of him enjoyed your talk.

“Guess you’re gonna be my one kill.” He said, shifting towards you and pushing you against the wall. You were taken aback by his swift movement.

You squirmed against his body, somewhat sliding downwards so kicking was pretty much useless unless you wanted to completely fall. The two of you grunted quietly as he turned you around, shoving your face against the hard wall. It was uncomfortable but he wasn’t being as rough as he usually was. At this point, you were scared of his knife so you tried pulling his hands away from you in the awkward position. Ghostface tightly pinned one of your arms on your back, you winced as he tugged on your hair.

He leaned inwards, poking his head towards your neck and hair. Ghostface took a moment to memorize your scent and what your hair texture might have felt like. For some strange reason, he seemed to want to learn everything about you. It might have been a bad idea for you to have opened him up about his art.

“Get off of me.” You demanded in a stern voice.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.” He replied sarcastically. 

You froze up when he slid his hand under your shirt, his fingertips trailing on your back. It wasn’t the motion itself but rather the feeling of his ungloved hand. You felt yourself go into a rather catatonic state, not in fear but you were quick to wonder why he would take his glove off. A thousand thoughts and scenarios played in your mind. His touch was soft but still managed to leave you with chills. 

Ghostface, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. He made notes of how soft your skin felt, his hand curiously wandered upwards. It wasn’t long before his hand wandered to your more sensitive areas. A gasp escaped your mouth as kept you pinned with his knees, his hands groping you a bit more roughly. Your face heated up when he squeezed you, you didn’t seem to struggle either. 

“Fuck...” You whispered.

“If only we had the time.” He mumbled, sticking three of his gloved fingers into your mouth. Your eyes rested as you stared upwards, allowing him to continue touching you. 

“I bet you’re getting all excited over this... if only I could capture the look on your face right now. How does it feel? Having somebody like me have their way?” He asked you. You felt aroused yet ashamed to oblige him.

“It feels good...” You managed to say, his fingers still in your mouth.

You felt the bulge in his crotch grow hard but this wasn’t the time or place. As much as he wanted to fuck you then and there, he needed to have some control over himself. He pulled his hands away and slid his glove back on. You let out a sigh of relief but also a whine. You knew just as much as he did that it just wasn’t the right time. You wiped the saliva from your lips and slowly stood up.

He pulled you backwards by your waist. You felt him rub his knife near your crotch, gliding it teasingly. His other hand wrapped around your neck. You heard him chuckle rather darkly. At this point, you seemed more hot and bothered than he was. Ghostface squeezed your neck a little harder, wanting to get one last sound of of you before he let you go. He didn’t care whether or not the Entity would be displeased or not.

“Guess you’ll have to be a whore some other time.” He said, cutting you on the arm slightly. You pulled your arm away quickly.

“Whatever.” You replied, flustered by his comment. Did that just happen?

“Better go before the Entity kills you itself.” He said to you.

“Right, right... see you around, Danny.” You said before quickly walking away and then running towards the exit gates. 

His head tilted curiously. Ghostface wasn’t sure if he had feelings or not. He admired you for listening to him and asking some questions though. But, now that he knew you’d do things with him willingly, he had some ideas. A wide smile grew behind his mask as he began to fantasize about the photos he would eventually take. 

You would probably come to regret your actions, seeing as his obsession with you would grow. Danny needed to know everything about you and even felt a bit possessive now. It didn’t matter, there was many possibilities within the Fog. Pray that you’ll be ready for your next meeting.

NOTE: Currently writing a full fledged Danny fic with a different plot but have the sequel to the Distraction. Ty for reading!

[mitsukijuni]

dangggg,,, im scared of inazuma so this is what im doin now,, enjoy!!!

_____________________

So maybe it was part of his fault why the laboratory is burning. It's not like he was supposed to know that the bright neon green liquid could cause such an explosion unlike the slightly less brighter neon green liquid that he actually needed.

Nope, it's not his fault whatsoever even though those two vials had been helpfully labelled by the chief of alchemy, Albedo.

Okay maybe it was his fault but just by a tiny bit. A lot. He's fucked.

Timaeus looked on, eyes blank and empty, accepting his fate as it is. Perhaps he'll be let off, "It's alright,"  Albedo would smile and just cleaned up after the mess he made, which he of course, would help with. And, maybe it'll be worse than that, "You're no longer my student," he'd say, the disappointment obvious in his voice.

Either way, Timaeus knew he's fucked. Albedo don't just smile for no reason.

Now, he did try to extinguish it as best as he could but the fire only seem to grew and with that, the dread in his gut only worsened. He had to call Albedo. Rushing out, he was about to turn the corner when he ran, quite literally, into one Captain Kaeya. An 'umph' came from him, hands bracing Timaeus's shoulders.

"What's the rush," he had asked, light laughter accompanying. Timaeus was about to open his mouth when tufts of blond hair appeared from behind the one eyed captain. Albedo.

'Fuck,' Timaeus lamented. "Is everything alright, Timaeus?" The shorter man is looking straight at him now, bright turquoise eyes staring deep. Timaeus opened his mouth again, intent on telling the both of them what had happened and is happening.

"Well-" and as if on cue, the door to the lab was shattered into pieces, the explosion turning it into splinters and a resounding 'boom' broke the —previously— calm air. "That."

Albedo had dragged Timaeus by the arm then, shielding him away from the fire as Kaeya doused the fire using his vision. After minutes of "Freeze it," the fire had, thankfully, settled down.

Albedo looked at him then, "What happened Timaeus," he asked, ordered really, and by the looks of it, he already knew the answer and was only looking forward to Timaeus' response to it.

Finding that there's no way he can get out of this situation, Timaeus sighed, defeated. "Well, I mixed the wrong liquid in the potion you helped me with earlier and the rest is history," trailing off, he didn't dare to look at Albedo in the eyes, afterall it was just a simple concoction and he had fucked it up.

There was a beat of silence before a hand clamped down on Timaeus's left shoulder making him look up. "It's okay," Albedo smiled and that's when Timaeus knew he was going to die.

The blond soon left, leaving Timaeus alone with the cavalry captain, wondering what his punishment would be exactly. "If I were you, I'd prepare myself mentally," the captain chirped in, an eye —maybe both— squinted in amusement.

Night came and with that, an increasing feeling of dread in Timaeus's gut. He knew that this mistake of his wouldn't be left unpunished, and with the day ending, he couldn't help the sweats running down his back as he stay seated on the chair.

Albedo had left him a note on the door of his home, written on it was, "Be home by dusk, I'll be there soon." And here he was, fresh out of the shower, dreading the appearance of the alchemist. A sudden knock broke him out of his reverie, scrambling to his feet to get to the door.

Before he could even get a word out, Albedo pushed in, brushing past him and sitting himself on the edge of his bed. "Oh, um, hello Albedo," the other nodded in response, looking around the small room that Timaeus called home.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened, can you please just let this go," he rubbed his arm anxiously, hoping that it would appeal to Albedo's sympathetic nature, if he had any.

Albedo hummed, as if he was considering it, before saying, "No. Now strip."

"Pardon me?" Timaeus breathed out, stumbling backwards by an inch, stunned by what Albedo had said and meant, judging by the quirked brow and the slight smirk on his face. "Well, no, not yet. You still need to be punished afterall," he stated, as if he was talking about the weather.

Timaeus gulped, sweats forming like bullets. "Are you kidding right now," to which the other man let out a sigh for. "Do I seem like the kind of a person to kid around, Timaeus," he uttered his name almost, seductively? No, he must be imagining that but with the way the situation is escalating, he can't help but think of it that way.

"You heard me, strip."

Turquoise eyes gazed deep into him and he couldn't help but shudder under that look. Seeing that he can't really do anything in this case, he hesitantly stripped down every layers that he had on. And a deep part inside of him screamed in joy, almost as if it had been waiting for this day. Timaeus shook his head, willing the thought away.

Now, naked as the day he was born, he stood in front of the man, trying in vain to hide his genital. His body flushed red and his cheeks burning bright. Albedo spread his lap open, tapping on his thighs lightly with gloved hands. "Bend over," he ordered simply.

Timaeus spluttered, eyes wide in disbelief over what his mentor had said. Albedo merely nodded towards his lap, confirming the words that had came out of his mouth. He inched forward, with each steps making his legs shake. Fists formed as he bit his lips, and even with the different height statures, he couldn't help but feel inferior as he stood over Albedo.

Slowly, he crawled into the other's lap, awkwardly shifting himself to position himself on those strong thighs. "Uhm, are you sure that-" a hand came down his bottom. Timaeus yelped in shock, almost giving himself a whiplash as he swiftly turned to look at Albedo.

"What are, what are you doing!" The blond in question merely quirked a brow and before Timaeus could open his mouth, Albedo brought his hand down again, a quick snap that echoed in the room.

He moaned.

And just as quick, the room fell silent. Timaeus dropped his head down, groaning internally at what he just did. A palm settled on his bottom, startling him. The hand rubbed his bottom in a circular motion, almost soothingly, before Albedo leaned down right next to his ear, whispering, "You seem to enjoy that."

Another hit and Timaeus arched his back in a futile attempt to ease away the incoming pain. Strike after strike and he could feel that his cheeks was as red as his cheeks. Eyes shut, tears welling at the corner of his eyes, Timaeus could do nothing other then to just let it be.

Well, he could push the other man away, seeing as he wasn't really holding him down -not that he couldn't of course, hah- but alas Timaeus dare not to entertain the idea for he was enjoying it even though, his brain was screaming at him.

It was when a gloved finger brushed against his hole that Timaeus jolted back. "Ah! What are you-" Albedo simply cut him off by brushing against it once more making Timaeus shudder. Tearful eyes looked back into the other, gleaming, mischief filled ones. "Do you not like that Timaeus," the man said, a tint of laughter in that sentence.

Timaeus don't have an answer for that. On one hand, he did like it but on the other, this wasn't how he had imagined it in those countless imaginations of his where they both, well, fuck essentially.

At that, his blush deepened, scowling at Albedo who had a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Fuck it," Timaeus sat up the best he could, feeling the hardness grinding against the crack of his bottom, sliding in-between. "Oh," Albedo uttered, looking up at the other, eyes wide.

Hands twitching, Timaeus brought his arms up, hovering an inch shy away from Albedo's cheek, dusted with red. A gulp and he finally brought his head down to catch Albedo's lips in his, palms lightly settled on fair skin. Timaeus deepened the kiss further, slipping a tongue in, to which Albedo hummed in surprise.

A hitch of breath and Albedo was stunned momentarily at the feeling of Timaeus rubbing down on his cock, breaking away from the kiss to catch his breath. Timaeus smiled down at him, loving the effect that he had on the other; his façade crumbling, red covering his face, flushed. "Did you liked that?" This time, Timaeus was the one who whispered it into Albedo's ears.

It sent a shiver down his spine seeing that Albedo had no response to that, breathing in short, heavy huffs. "Fuck," was all that he said before he stood up, making Timaeus stumble back in the process.

Timaeus felt as if his own façade had shattered, gone was the confident filled persona of his as he stood in front of the other, not knowing what to do. Without warning, Albedo stripped down, all lean muscles and tiny scars covered his body. With a force so unexpected from the small figure, Timaeus was shoved down onto the bed, a small 'oomph' escaped his lips.

There was a moment of silence, a beat as the two looked at each other, both breathing heavily before Albedo slowly kneeled on the bed, encaging Timaeus in-between the space of his legs.

Timaeus gulped.

Not long after, Albedo's hand slowly trailed down his figure, over his chest, his navel, before settling on his cock. He circled his length with a palm, jerking it languidly, Timaeus could feel his breath quickened. The man hummed appreciatively, "Like what you see, Timaeus," he whispered his name out like a secret, a dirty little secret that only exist in this moment.

He nodded, mouth opened as his eyes seems to have a mind of its own, following the slow jerking motions of Albedo's hand, the head of his cock disappearing from his view.

"I want to hear you say it. Say how much you love looking at me jerk off, how much you've been fantasizing about this, how many times those fantasies have made you cum," with each words, Timaeus could feel himself growing hard, not only by the sight, but also by the authoritative tone that Albedo had said it with.

Dare he say, it was eliciting quite the reaction from him. Albedo stopped moving his wrists, "Say it." Timaeus hesitated before saying, "I, I love seeing you jerk your cock off, I love how the pre-cum spills all over your finger,"—Albedo continued to stroke his cock—"I've always fantasized about this happening, how I would fuck you, how you, how you would fuck me and make me scream. The amount of times I've came just by imagining you were jerking my cock."

A beat. "And I love you."

Albedo swiftly stopped.

Timaeus was, simply put, doomed. Of course he just had to ruin this whole, thing and now Albedo was going to walk away and dismiss this as if it never had happened.

But to his surprise, the other man simply let out a small laugh, "That took you long enough," before inching himself closer that his still hard cock grazed against Timaeus's chin. Beet red was the colour of his cheeks as he stared at the cock in front of him, dark red was the head and dripping with pre-cum.

He licked his lips, eyes shifting upwards to look at Albedo; a silent look of obedience and wanting to be given a permission. With lidded eyes, Timaeus lolled his tongue out, an invitation for the blond to push his cock deep down his throat. And push he did, tears welling up as he could feel the tip poking at the back of his throat.

Albedo didn't move for a while, giving Timaeus a minute of comfort and with a hum of approval, he pistoned his hips, catching the man off guard. Drool spilled and trailed down his chin and he could do nothing but to just take it in deep.

With both palms on Albedo's thighs, he braced himself upon the incoming onslaught, the other man's weight slightly settling down on his chest leaving him even more breathless as it is.

Albedo leaned over him, arms propped up on the frame of the bed, his hips wildly bucking into the wet mouth, fucking it like there's no tomorrow. Timaeus let his hands fall down to the side, gripping the bedsheets till his fists were white, his face crimson. He lets his mouth slacks open, now a mere hole for Albedo to fill with his girth.

A stutter and Albedo pulled out just as sudden, drawing out a whine from Timaeus over the lost feeling of being full. Hand fisted in tufts of brown hair, forcing Timaeus to look up to the other, "Aren't you a good little slut," he said before letting his grip loosen.

Albedo leaned down, peppering kisses all over Timaeus's skin, down his chest, navel, before settling on his crotch. A lick along the length of his cock nearly sent Timaeus over, his back arched.

He braced himself, anticipating the warm, wet cavern that was Albedo's mouth when he felt himself folded, back rested on the thighs of the man. Timaeus craned his neck, wanting to have a better look at what was happening only to see the red tongue peeking out of those lips.

That's when he felt that tongue of his lapping at his hole, his head thrown back once more. He could feel the hairs on his neck stand as Albedo flattened his tongue against his hole, the tiny hairs surrounding it brushing against his nose. He stretched a hand out to try and hold the other's head, intent in trying to stop him but an arm reached out, pinning his own on the bed.

Tiny flickers of the tongue swept lightly over the sensitive skin, his hole twitching. Albedo pursed his mouth, nipping and sucking on it, the man under him writhing; struggling under the vice grip that he had on his thigh. It was only when Albedo had prodded on his taint, that Timaeus jolted up, balancing himself upon his elbows, "Ah!" He cried out, eyes shut tight whilst Albedo continues to lick wet stripes upon it, blowing cold air over it when he finished.

The brunet slumped back down, his chest heaving; glistening underneath the light, sweat covered. With a wavering voice, Timaeus dared to speak, "Won't you, um, fuck me already?" he averted his eyes, feeling sheepish by his own unabashed question.

"Who said I was going to fuck you," Albedo chuckled, his eyes set into a fixed gaze on him, head leaned upon a palm. Timaeus felt his heart sunk at that, a look of disappoinment on his face. Hands wrapped around his legs, interrupting his thoughts as the abrupt motion pushed him back down. "We have days ahead of us, surely you can wait," the blond muttered against his shin, his cock nudging on Timaeus's thighs.

"Oh," was the only thing that crossed Timaeus's mind before he felt the cock sliding in-between the slit of his thighs; created by tightly squeezing his thighs together. Timaeus gasped at the sensation, his cock rubbing up and down against Albedo's own. Brows furrowed in concentration, Albedo rammed in, each time harder then before.

Toes curled, Timaeus could feel his climax inching closer, suppressing moans from escaping his lips. With a shuddered breath, Timaeus came, his cum landing on his stomach; mingling with the layer of sweat covering his skin. And with a hitched gasp, Albedo followed soon with his own climax, staining the insides of his thighs. Exhausted, Albedo collapsed next to Timaeus, one hand circling the brunet's waist.

Thump.

"So, about what you said, could we," Timaeus trailed off, eyes fluttering; heavy with drowsiness. A kiss on his cheek was the only answer given to him, a pair of lips hovering next to his ear, "Go to sleep, Timaeus."

And sleep he did, a comforting warmth staying by his side all night long.

[katsukikitten]

Hollow

Katsuki didn't want to believe the rumor until he saw what it was for himself.

The news had a bad habit of spreading lies like wildfire more often than not.

And truth be told, he wanted this one to be a lie too.

But as he stands in the liminal space of the park long forgotten in the late hours of the night as his scarlet eyes watch the tall grey building across the street, he begins to wonder.

And wonder deeply, if the rumor is more truth than lie as he sees the familiar pattern falling into place before him.

The string of robberies, all at banks or jewelry stores.

The same punctual hour of three am, or 'witching hour' as someone *once* dear to him called it.

And lastly the unmistakable reports of the lingering, unmistakable smell of death.

*'I marked him...Suki...'*

He swallows as he watches a slim silhouette slip into the building before him.

The clouds overhead compete with the thundering roar of his heart as lightning darts across the sky. He wishes he could blame dunce face for the light show but he cannot. Again he swallows his displeasure as he watches.

As he waits despite being ordered not to follow up on this case.

Despite being begged by his close friend Kirishima and his good rival, Deku, to lie low.

To leave it to them.

Which he almost did, what with having to leave the country for a collaborative mission over seas and all.

But as he packed his extra hero suit neatly into his black backpack the news just HAD to mention the most recent robbery that reminded him too much of his last and only failed mission.

The news just had to describe the perpetrator in detail from first hand witnesses on scene.

The news just *had* to remind him of the anniversary of that tragic death of someone he held in his incapable arms as they pulled their last breaths to them.

Of your tragic death.

The thought pushes his feet forward towards something he knows he shouldn't see.

Something he doesn't want to see.

Still the ash blonde is sure to keep his swift steps silent as he seemingly polevaults across the haunting child's playground as more lightning stripes the sky. Rain threatens to erupt from the sky with each roaring shake of the clouds.

He slips into the cold lobby, eyes darting to every shadow to be sure the perpetrator is alone. His heart thuds harder into his ribs than it has ever before.

Harder than the league of villains appearing out of nowhere in the training gym.

Harder than being tied to a chair in front of those fucking fools that had kept him hostage years ago.

Harder still than the first time he grew the balls to kiss you, unknowing of the change you would inflict upon him.

When he was younger all he saw was black and white. Good and Evil.

That was until you showed him the world was painted in more grayed tones than he'd ever care to admit.

That most of them were people too, with jaded pasts, and maybe they just needed help healing.

The ones that *could* be saved anyway.

He was convinced you were one of them.

But Mother Death took you before he could ever find out.

Stealing you away from him as you took a blow aimed for him.

A blow you never would have taken for anyone else, nor even dreamt of it as you walked the fine line of grand larceny and petty theft.

Even now he can feel your last moments.

The awkward weight of your body going slack as the last of your fight comes tumbling out in a croaking, heart wrenching exhaled breath.

His retinas burned with the image of your eyes dulling in a matter of seconds, no longer sparkling with curiosity, with fire.

With love for him.

An image that he sees every time his long blonde lashes kiss his soft cheeks, reminding him of how weak he was.

An image that drove him to this bank tonight.

An image that he has fought himself over, knowing he will lose to the call of his revenge.

There will be no grey tones to paint the scarlet eyed man with not when he gets his hands on whoever hurt you.

No they will paint him in the blackest of blacks. The hue so deep it swallows all of the light in his heart.

The sound of a safe clicking open brings him crashing back to the here and now, his gloves groan from the force of his clenched firsts.

The sickening sweet smell of rotting fruit wafts his way as the perpetrator makes a sound of delight. Deft hands work quickly, before Katsuki can turn the corner he hears the satisfying click of the grated door opening inward to the vault. He exhales slowly, attempting to withhold his rage as he really isn't sure who or what will be on the other side of this corner.

You did say the dead you raised had lived on for months after you awakened them, that the ones that escaped your command for slumber would take on some of your habits.

But you also whispered through bloodied lips that you marked the person who killed you with the scent of death.

Either way Katsuki knew he needed to end this here and now.

It was just a matter of would he walk away a hero tonight?

Or a villain himself, hands dipped in the blood of someone who stole from him.

Who stole his one and *only* love.

He rounds the corner with ease but the explosion on his palm dies even as a fresh sheen of cold sweat coats his skin.

He cannot believe his blood red eyes as he stares as the perpetrator standing in the vault.

Humming a hauntingly familiar tune of a spell.

A spell to raise the dead.

The skeleton clinks as it moves unnaturally, pulling its calcified limbs with invisible muscles as it picks the lock to the safety deposit boxes. Throwing the contents into a labeled bag along with the file of the owner. Lightening flashes, illuminating the mouth of the darkened vault and revealing several sets of glowing, eerily beautiful eyes.

Or where a set of eyes should be.

But none as beautiful as the set that drags over the thick steel compartments that houses hundreds of thousands of yen.

Katsuki closes his eyes at first. Thinking the roaring thunder, dancing lights and the now pounding rain are playing tricks on him.

It all has to be. The anniversary of your death, the haunting nightmares he has had of late and surely the smell has him seeing incorrectly.

But when those scarlet eyes drink in the scene once more they are not mistaken as they rove over the familiar body.

No, he would never forget the shape of you.

This must be an illusion from some other villain to fuck with him.

It fuels a burning rage in his chest, so hot that for a sliver of a moment he cannot see.

Partially losing control as he sees red so deep it seems black.

But he comes to his senses when the first popping explosion on the bones sends calcium shrapnel into the air.

The sound making an odd addition to the hum escaping your lips.

You turn to face him, your features shadowed by the dark revealing on a malice laced smile.

"Katsuki-kun!" You sing song, as the hope of you being a cruel illusion dies in his chest.

"It...It can't be you, Y/N!" He yells, voice raw with unspoken emotion and untapped rage. Lightning strikes fast and close. Close enough that you can smell the smoke from the now charred brick.

Although the light show is the worst of Katsuki's problems as the rest of your hidden features are briefly revealed for a few short seconds.

That doesn't stop Katsuki from seeing something that will now haunt his every nightmare and possibly every waking moment as he is left with the unsettling color of your eyes.

As they are no longer a hue so gorgeously memzmerosing, no now they are a milky, filmed over white.

He notices too that your skin is no longer the right color, it has a sickly undertone, veins too deep in color from sluggish blood.

He tries to swallow the horror that tears up his throat.

He gets caught in his throat as he throws a few more explosions to the clinking and some rotting bodies to which you've awakened.

For every foe vanquished, you summon another, causing the stench of death to cling to Katsuki's clothes, skin, his very bones as he demolishes each animated figure one by one.

Soon the hot head is gasping for air, as your smile continues to be much too wide for his liking.

"Is that all you've got?" He gasps in angry ragged breaths.

"There will always be Dead, Suki." A phrase you had told him many as you pulled them forth.

Bending the afterlife to your unyielding will.

He dodges a fresh corpse turning in time to ignite his caramel sweat and launching himself into you at the same time. He slams you against the cold metal but the skin beneath his finger tips is colder.

Colder still is the heart that lies unbeating in your chest as his digits dig in bruising flowers on your shoulder.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" A mix of snarl and hurt. An emotion that Katsuki cannot place flashes across your features before twisting.

"Who do you think?" A laugh peels from your chapped, bluish grey lips, a laugh unlike your own. The weight of its echo causes Bakugou's stomach to knot as he slowly tries to place the pieces together.

When he cannot say one of the two conclusions he has come to you answer impatiently. A hint of a giggle clinging to your lips as mischief still somehow hangs in the white film of your muted eyes.

"It was me." This time you do giggle as Katsuki's handsome face contorts, reflecting the emotions that most be flooding his godly body, "Why do you think I used my dying breaths to ask a favor? It was my own blood in that vial that you poured into my mouth."

"Or maybe I could say it was you!" A cackle rings out, "You did this to me, Suuuukiiii-kun!"

His fingers dig deeper threatening to break paper thin skin that once used to be feather soft. Hot tears burn in the back of scarlet eyes but he blinks them away furiously.

Just in time as you spit thick blackened blood onto his face, little white larva crawl across his cheeks, threatening to push past his lips. He jumps back, gagging from the smell, from the sensation as he swipes with newfound anxiety at his face.

Another laugh echoes in the small confinements of the vault and in Katsuki's head.

"Why...why would you do this?" He hisses angirly, explosions dancing on his skin, "You always said you hated your quirk. You hated what you created."

"Necromancy has been unnatural and yet highly strived for since the first death of mankind." You say with a sugared voice as you shove him harshly against the unforgiving iron.

Hard enough that the vault gives way, bending beneath the force of Katsuki's weight.

"Do you honestly why I hated the things I summoned?" You lean close as shining scarlet eyes glitter from unshed tears, both from the stench of your rotting insides and the blatant hurt. When he does not answer you continue.

"I hated them because I *envied* them. They do not feel. They do not feel love, pain, sadness. They do as they are told. Plus if I had never raised myself from the dead how else would I get to have your whole heart?" You ask, shoving your hand deep into Katsuki's chest, holding his heart in your palm, fresh blood splatters your face to which to lap with your tongue. His face pales from the foreign object protruding from his chest and pales even further as you pull his beating heart from between his overly protective rib cage.

He slumps to the vault floor, the world quickly falling away from him.

He can no longer feel the pressure of your in his chest nor the icy cold vault walls.

He can no longer see your parted lips coming ever closer to his still beating heart.

He can just barely smell the rotting pungant stench that is you as he hears a sickening sucking bite.

As one does when they bite into a peach so juicy they must suck in to keep the sweet nectar from falling from their lips.

All in a matter of seconds before his conciousness blips out of existence.

"Not so fast, my little Katuski." You smile with ruby red liquid dripping from plump lips, "I didnt even get to give you a good bye kiss."

You lean closely pressing your glossed lips to his before pulling away.

Silence weighs heavy on the building of the bank.

Hell, the silence weighs heavy on the entire block as the storm begins to die after a short half an hour of gale force wind carried rain and lightning so fierce it fried the grid to the city.

A final flash illuminates the vault revealing a now two sets of milky unfeeling eyes with matching maliced lips.

[shuttershocky]

Maybe 90% of the reason why I made up a “Sakura is adopted by Touko” AU is because if you really think about it, Touko is the person best suited for teaching Sakura magic after her traumatic experience with mage families, but also the absolute worst person to teach her about how to live her daily life.

Like, I have this theory that Touko is almost entirely self-taught and her magic technique is unique and improvisational. She was kicked out of the Aozakis at a young age and was never adopted by anyone else, leaving her to survive on her own and thus was unlikely to have received formal education beyond the basics when she was little, and the Clocktower which doesn’t even accept students until they are already magi of good ability. When she’s shown doing magic, she traces a rune into the air with a cigarette, a common item among modern people, when any formally educated mage channels their power through jewels, a staff, a wand, magical creatures like bugs, etc etc. Her familiars also turn into things like briefcases and film projectors, and the items you can find in her office (that she presumably uses for supernatural work) are things like TVs, cellphones, fax machines and a gameboy, all pieces of technology that someone like Rin would never figure out. 

She also doesn’t appear to be discriminate with students whatsoever. Magi are notoriously picky when it comes to selecting students from their own fucking families, but then you have Touko taking on Azaka, who has no magic circuits whatsoever. Azaka asked Touko to teach her magic, and instead of being told that it was biologically impossible, Touko just made her a glove with artificial magic circuits that Azaka puts on to cast spells. Azaka also only knows fire and explosion magic when Rin says that fixing glass is always one of the first things every magi learns, indicating that Touko has literally no idea what a magic education is supposed to look like and probably just asks her students what it is they want to be able to do. 

So when Sakura has difficulty casting spells the same way Rin does because the crest worms altered her body and took away her ability to cast magic normally, Touko would be the only teacher in the world for which that is not a problem at all. Sakura would likely feel frustrated and inferior for just being unable to do simple ordinary magic like Rin can, but Touko would just ask Sakura what it is she can already do, what does she want to do, and start helping her grow from there. She would be the only mage who understands how to help someone learn magic their own way, rather than follow a strict and rigid curriculum that favors old blood with a mastery of traditional, outdated abilities.

___________________________

And then there’s the part where, due to the same upbringing that makes her Sakura’s perfect magic teacher, she’s also the single worst person to learn how to live a normal life from. Touko graduated at the top of the Clocktower and immediately went on the run as every magus family saw a single, orphaned prodigy as a threat to their family-based hierarchy and tried to kill or imprison her. She learned to murder and maim everyone who stood in her way since they were very likely meaning to kill her first, and soon started going around the world on her own quest for power killing, conning, and stealing as she went, her loyalties and morals extending only to herself and to her underlings. 

This woman literally defeated and kidnapped dozens of top magi in order to steal their magic crests and implant them all into herself, turning her body into a frankenstein powerhouse of magecraft while also effectively destroying every family whose crests she had stolen (and she stole a fuck ton). She’s going to teach Sakura that everything she wants in life is something she needs and everything she needs can be taken by force so long as she’s always the smartest cookie on the playing field.

Sakura’s going to ask how people file their taxes and Touko will reply

“Taxes? I’ve been legally dead in Japan since 1988 sweetie I don’t pay any taxes.”

Sakura’s going to be talking about her first ever bullseye in Archery club and Touko will say

“That’s amazing kiddo. Wanna practice on moving targets next? The Harways are paying us 25 million yen to take out the Edelfelt matriarch during their vacation to Osaka and I’m thinking their wards don’t check for physical projectiles.”

Sakura’s going to be riding with her in the car on the way to the office and she’ll be all

“Mom, can we buy a beginner’s cookbook on our way home? Senpai’s cooking is really good and I want to learn from him!”

and Touko will go

“Honey, it takes 10,000 hours of practice to get good at something and we could be using that time to make some yen. Here, put on this ski mask. We’re gonna go kidnap that Gordolf Ramesses guy and xerox his brain and we can’t have our faces on the evening news.”

______________________

Bonus, since Touko’s worked for and against all the biggest names in the Clocktower, only she knows that the Tohsaka’s reputation for being an ancient, famous, and prestigious family is a bunch of bullshit and the Tohsaka are actually obscure country bumpkins.

Rin, lecturing Sakura on their family history: “Remember Sakura, as the last living members of the Tohsaka clan, we are responsible for upholding the family name’s reputation. A Tohsaka is always calm and collected no matter what, solving all their problems with skill and grace.” Touko: AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA- Oh wait you were serious.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

when he smiled [chapter one]

Summary: Louis is horribly wounded after the defeat of the raiders. 

Preview: And when Lily’s knife finally plunged deep into Louis’ shoulder and he let out an anguished cry, Clem saw red.

She couldn’t remember the seething scream that bubbled from her lungs or yanking the used arrow from a walkers head and aiming, but before she could even think, the arrow shot through the side of the woman’s neck with a sickening sound.

Warnings: Blood, violence, and Louis does get pretty damn hurt, so....there. 

Author’s Note: Sorry, I’m trying my hand at writing some angsty clouis with an alternative look at how the fight could’ve gone. There’ll be more chapters in the future if anyone’s interested.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 [coming soon]

Clem couldn’t see Lily.

And, fuck, after the explosion everything just... happened so fast.

But, that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was that everyone had gathered into the school, ready to attack. Even Mitch and Willy had managed to drag Omar in and keep him hidden while they waited for the raiders to barge through their front door and into their trap. The log took out two of them, leaving Abel to chase the group up the stairs. It was a mess of frantic heartbeats, curses and struggling against the one-armed man, but Clem managed to shove him out the window after AJ went all out with the fire poker, stabbing the gross old man several times.

Clem carefully peered out the window and saw her.

Lily and one of her men had a hold of Tenn.

They moved quickly. Her and AJ practically stumbled out of the burning room and carefully headed outside where Clem drew her bow. Lily and the man were roughly pulling a struggling Tenn over to a cage. 

Before Clem could get her bow ready, a violent cry broke through the air as Mitch charged the man from the side, sending the two tumbling to the ground as Mitch’s fist collided with the man’s face until there was nothing but blood spurting. Through it all, Tenn broke free from the off-guard Lily just as Clem fired.

The arrow pierced Lily’s leg and she fell back before she could reach Mitch.

Tenn grabbed at Mitch’s sleeve and begged him to stop, breaking Mitch of his bloodthirsty anger, and the two ran to join Willy and Aasim, who were firing arrows from the top floor.

Clem continued to shoot from her and AJ’s hiding spot, hitting both raiders and the walkers stumbling through the gate. She saw Louis and Violet, weapons in hand, killing walkers back to back and watching out for one another.

However, more and more walkers kept barging in, and most getting a hold of the fallen raiders trying to crawl to safety.

“Shit!” Clem called out. “Everyone inside! Now!”

Violet rushed at Clem, slicing the head of a walker in half on her way. “Fuck!”

Behind her, she could hear Mitch cursing and Ruby hollering something about Omar’s leg. Clem shot another arrow, killing a walker, but it seemed that for every one she successfully killed, three more replaced it. She cursed under her breath, turning to AJ, who stayed beside her, shooting walkers. 

She spotted Louis. He knocked over another walker, meeting her eye and calling out, “Go! I’m right behind you!”

“Hurry!”

Quickly, she hurried into the shelter of the school. 

“AJ, c’mon!”

---

AJ didn’t follow her, though. The boy had his gaze fixated on Abel, grunting and crawling towards him.

 “You fff-ffucking little shit!” he croaked.

With a broken leg and a missing arm, he had no chance. AJ reached for his gun, holding his breath. He had promised Clem that he wouldn’t kill the man that haunted his nightmares. After all, he lost.

Still, he pointed the gun at the suffering man, thoughts buzzing with rights and wrongs. This man was a monster, and monsters die. This man would hurt them if he lived, even without an arm and a leg. 

But, for the first time, AJ hesitated. 

Don’t hesitate.

Always aim for the head. 

Before he could pull the trigger, AJ was yanked back by his coat. “Ah!” 

“C’mere!” 

The woman had a hold of him and his gun.

---

Inside, Clem was in the office with everyone.

Everyone...

She turned toward the door.

“Where’s Louis?” Panic settled in. 

Violet shook her head. “Shit, I thought he followed me!”

“Clem-”

“Shit!”

Clem turned to Tenn, noticing his wide, frightened eyes searching the room. Immediately she knew what he was looking for. 

Her insides twisted. 

“AJ-!”

He was just-

“Clementine!” Lily’s shout stopped Clem in her tracks. “Clementine! Get your ass out here! I know you’re in there!”

“Fuck! Clem!” Violet grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the broken window.

There stood Lily, her arm wrapped around AJ’s neck with her gun to his head. She seemed to vibrate with furious pain as she glared at the building.

“Your kid’s right here, Clementine!” Lily snarled. “You can have him back if you come out!”

“Clem,” Tenn’s quivering voice sounded beside her. 

“I’ll shoot him! I will!” 

“Lily! Don’t you fucking dare!”

“You want him alive!?” Lily exclaimed, pressing the gun right to AJ’s temple. “Then do as I say!”

A million thoughts ran through Clem’s brain. None coherent, none plausible.

“Fuck, I’ll kill that bitch!” Mitch exclaimed, ready to go out there before Aasim and Willy stopped him.  

“We can’t just charge her! She’ll shoot him!” Aasim argued.

“She’ll shoot him anyway if we don’t charge her!” Mitch snapped back. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” 

“We need a plan-” Violet was cut off. 

“Clementine!” Lilly shouted. “I’ll count to three! If you and your friends aren’t down here, he gets a bullet in his head!”

“No!” cried Tenn.

“Oh shit...” Violet hissed. “Louis!” 

“ONE!”

Clem’s heart practically broke right out of her chest when she spotted Louis through the window, crouched down, avoiding walkers and carefully approaching Lily.

“TWO!”

Clem shoved away from the window and ran faster than ever before.

“Clementine, wait-!”

“THREE-AUGH!”

By the time she reached the staircase, a shot rang out.

“AJ!”

---

Louis wasn’t thinking. 

 Everything moved so fast; his swings at the walkers and his frantic search for anyone needing help. When he didn’t see anyone else left besides himself, Clem and AJ, he was supposed to hurry inside. 

But, when he saw AJ neglect to follow Clem and approached the man with the broken leg instead, he didn’t. 

And thank God he didn’t. 

He had no qualms attacking this woman, tackling her to the ground.

The second you put a gun to the temple of a young child, the gloves come off. 

He wasn’t letting AJ die because of some vindictive woman and her army fantasy.

Not AJ.

---

Bursting through the front doors, Clem spotted him instantly.

AJ was curled up on his knees, hands pressed over his ringing ears and face twisted with agony. Luckily, no bullet wounds in him. Practically jumping off the stairs, Clem rushed to AJ.

“AJ!”

When she reached him, she realized Louis had Lily pinned a few feet away, and walkers surrounded them. 

“No!” Clem cried out. “Walkers!”

Violet, Mitch, Aasim, and Willy charged out, weapons drawn and began taking down as many walkers as possible. Within the mess, Clementine pulled AJ into her arms and shoved past the walkers to the safety of the dorm, leaving him with Ruby, Tenn, and Omar.

“What’s happenin’ out there!?” exclaimed Ruby. She had blood smeared on her hands from patching up Omar’s leg. 

“Walkers are everywhere!”

“The raiders-!”

“They’re dead, or gone, but- fuck! We need you out here, Ruby!”

“Go,” Omar urged. “I’m fine, just go!”

Ruby nodded firmly, pulling out her weapon. Clem turned to AJ, who still kept his ears covered. 

“AJ, watch Omar.”

He did very little to protest. 

Outside, Clem’s eyes searched frantically for Louis. She found him struggling with Lily, an expression of absolute fury on his face, unlike anything she’s ever seen on him. 

“Keep the walkers off him!” Clem shouted. She pulled out her knife and fought her way towards the struggle. 

---

Louis forced most of his weight onto Lily’s chest. He fought to keep her pinned,  but she managed to curve her non-wounded leg up and land a blow to his gut.

 Louis grunted, losing his balance and loosening his grip on one of her wrists. The result was a well-found blow to his jaw. Blood sputtered from his mouth and dripped onto Lily’s face.

With adrenaline and the will to fight pulsing through him, Louis’ dull nails clawed into Lily’s face and throat. 

Her response was a knife in his side. 

Pain enveloped his body.

---

Through the mass of walkers, Clem watched in absolute horror as Lily fought Louis off of her and reversed their positions. Grabbing her knife, Lily held it above her head and thrust it down towards Louis.

“Louis!”

The knife hit the ground beside his head as Louis ducked forward, grunting in pain. Lily rammed her knee into his stomach, right next to the fresh wound. This time, she put all her weight into the punch she landed on his cheek. It left him dazed, the world shifting between black and orange, throbbing, aching.

The woman above him stuck again, and again, and again.

---

Lily didn’t just want him dead.

No, her fury was hot, blinding.

It reflected in the flames of her eyes.

The world had collapsed.

Her people were dead.

She had nothing but the rushing sound in her ears and the boy under her. 

She wanted to make him unrecognizable, nothing but flesh, blood, and dirt...

---

And when Lily’s knife finally plunged deep into Louis’ shoulder and he let out an anguished cry, Clem saw red.

She couldn’t remember the seething scream that bubbled from her lungs or yanking the used arrow from a walkers head and aiming, but before she could even think, the arrow shot through the side of the woman’s neck with a sickening sound.

Lily shot up, dropping her knife and holding her neck. She fell atop a horrified Louis, twitching and gurgling blood.

Then, Clem watched as Louis went limp. Even though the fire burned around her, ice ran through her veins and her heart plummeted into her stomach.

“No!” she cried.

She ran to them, yanking Lily off him and grasping his swelling face in her trembling hands. “Louis!” 

He didn’t respond. 

“Fuck! Clem!” Violet killed a walker from behind Clem before rushing to her side. “Goddammit, Louis!” 

Clem shook her head. “No!” She pressed her palm against his neck. His pulse beat slow and harm compared to hers, so panicked and distraught. His chest rose and shuttered with every tiny gasp that escaped his lips.

“Is-is he-”

“We need to get him to Ruby! Now!”

“Ruby!” Violet called over. “Mitch! Aasim!”

“Oh God!” Ruby gasped, running to the call of her name. “No!”

The rest was a blur for her. Clementine watched the last of the walkers fall from arrows to the head and the flames spread as Louis, wounded and unconscious, was carried in. 

Clem knew there couldn’t possibly be a word to describe how she felt in that moment. 

She turned to Lily’s body. 

Lily was dead. 

And Clem could do nothing more than take her knife and make sure she wasn’t ever, ever coming back. 

---

“Figured out what to call the song.”

“Oh?”

“’Clementine,’“ he grinned. “Obviously. You know, because I like fruit.  And... I like you even more. So.... there.” 

Her eyes darted to his smile.

“Gotta admit, of all the things I saw coming, you having a crush on me was not one of them.”

A crush...

What an understatement.

He spoke, and all she could focus on was the movement of his lips. And when he smiled, so wide, so genuine, she was done for. 

She didn’t mean for the hum to escape her throat when she kissed him.

Or the sigh. 

She kissed him.

And she kissed him...

“Clem...?”

She kissed him...

She’d been spacing out. 

The quiet was such a contrast.

Her gaze focused, searching over the various familiar faces for the source of the voice. Rosie rested beside her with her head in Clem’s lap.

AJ watched her cautiously, his hands pressing together nervously. His wide eyes flickered from her to the door. “Clem, can I go in?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” she replied. “We... we need to give Ruby space to work.”

“But, someone should be there with him,” protested AJ. “To tell him he’s okay and he’s gonna get better.” 

Clem sighed. “The best thing you can do for him right now, AJ, is to let Ruby concentrate on saving him.” She told not only him this, but herself. 

Clem wanted nothing more than to go in there and help Ruby, but she demanded that everyone but Aasim, who promised to shut up and hand her whatever she needed, to leave. 

No one was happy about it. 

“She’s right, AJ,” said Violet. “Ruby knows what she’s doing. She fixed you, remember?”

AJ nodded, though not entirely convinced. 

“Fuck!” Mitch kicked the wall. He ran his fingers through his messy hair before rubbing at his face. 

“Knock it off,” Violet scowled. “You’re not helping.”

“If we had all gone after that bitch, then this wouldn’t’ve happened!”

“Or,” Violet interjected. “More of us would be injured, or worse.” 

“We would’ve had a better chance! She wouldn’t have been able to handle all of us if we attacked at once!”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda! It doesn’t matter anymore-”

“It doesn’t matter? Louis is fucking dying in there-!”

“I said, knock it the fuck off!”

“This is our fault-!”

“Stop!” Clem spoke, breaking the argument. 

Mitch stared at her before looking down at his feet. He uncrossed his arms and bit at his lips,  looking at the dry blood staining his fingertips. His face was a cocktail of rage and remorse. 

After a long silence, he murmured, “I’m not digging another grave.”

“Mitch-” Violet warned. 

He turned and walked away from them, muttering, “I won’t. Not another one.” 

They watched him go. 

Clem could see the panic settle on Willy’s face as he scrambled to his feet and followed Mitch down the hall. 

I’m not digging another grave.

I’m not digging another grave.

Heat pressed against the back of Clem’s throat.

“He’s just freaked out,” said Omar. He lay on the couch, drowsy, with his leg properly bandaged. His brows furrowed with worry. “I’m freaked out, too.” Omar closed his eyes, leaning back against the armrest. “Never been shot before... Hell, never seen Louis in such... bad shape.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” muttered Violet. 

“He...” Tenn stuttered. “he... couldn’t even open his eyes. O-or speak.”

“He’s gonna be okay, though, right?” AJ turned to Clem with worried hope reflecting in his stare. “Ruby’s gonna fix him like she did with me?”  He reached over and held onto her sleeve. “Clem?”

Clem said nothing. 

Neither did anyone else. 

[radiantcutice-blog]

No Honor Among Thieves

Len doesn’t know where it went wrong.

Maybe- Maybe it’s because he was distracted. Preoccupied by things back home, by Thawne and Barry and how the kids are- maybe that’s why things failed.

But even that isn’t right. Distraction doesn’t account for this mayhem, not when this plan has been in the works for months. Hell, it hadn’t even been Barry- if he had showed up, plans B through L are reserved for him, depending on when he arrived and who he’d gone after first.

It’s the damn Feds. Again, shouldn’t be a problem- except they know. They know every single move the Rogues make, every strategy in their arsenal, every single weakness. Things they shouldn’t know about this job in particular.

They go after Hartley first, taking out the ears of the operation, their early warning system, as well as the danger of his mind control. He goes down with a sonic blast targeted at his implants, flute forgotten as he scrambles to try and shut them off, fingers fumbling in his pain. It gives the Feds just enough time to slap cuffs on him, confiscate his gloves and his flute, and hustle him off. They leave the sonic device on to keep him in too much pain to pick his cuffs, twisting and writhing in the grip of the two agents that drag him along as he tries to escape the noise.

Rosa gets the Boot, fired off before she can even react, the hook clamping around her ankle and anchoring her to the ground in an instant. He snarls, reaching for his belt and the offensive tops within, but another squeeze of the trigger sends 90 thousand volts through him and he drops to his knees. The second the pulse lays them out flat, and the agents don’t even give Roscoe’s muscles the chance to relax before yanking their arms behind their back, making her cry out in pain as they cuff her wrists and begin confiscating her gear.

Mick they corner with a gun not unlike Len’s, bringing the temperature in the room down and meeting the gout of flame he sends at them with a blast of cold, causing the same explosion of steam that Mick and Len crossing streams usually does. It knocks Mick back, growling low as he struggles to his feet, but they’ve frozen the floor, too, like he’s a damn speedster they’re trying to keep off balance, and there’s a crackling crunch of snow cleats breaking through the thin layer of ice as they rush him. He manages a good few swings, clocks one with his gun and sets another’s gear on fire, but his teeth are chattering and he can feel the panic creeping up, and it distracts Mick just enough for a Fed to shove a cattle prod in the back of his knee to bring him down, leg muscles spasming painfully and losing any footing he had on the frozen floor. Crashing down, the Feds pile onto Mick even as he struggles against them, getting him restrained and his gun taken away before some asshole cracks him in the back of the head with their own weapon, and the blunt force head trauma on top of years of it makes Mick’s vision swim almost immediately.

They drag him into the hall where Lisa stands, looking frantic at first but then cold and hard, just like Len, teeth bared as she skates her way towards them, fists clenched. Mick tries to shout a hoarse warning, but Lisa’s too set on her icy rage and doesn’t realize one of the agents is brandishing Mick’s gun until the flames melt the ice from under her blades and send her hurtling ungracefully to the floor. The same cattle prod used on Mick gets jabbed into Lisa’s gut, making her convulse until they decide she’s had enough, cuffing her before one of the agents tosses her over his shoulder.

Another two agents drag Roy into the procession, the Rainbow Raider hanging unconscious between them, his glasses in one of their fists. His tech might be formidable, but Roy’s never been a physical fighter, and a flash-bang to overwhelm his hardlight constructs was all the Feds needed to get to the man himself and knock him out.

Len would have to be an idiot to ignore the explosions, breaking into a jog with his safety off as he heads towards the nearest Rogue- safety in numbers, they’ve got this down- only to find Digger backed into a corner and swaying, swearing up a storm as he clutches his head, his boomerangs scattered across the floor or stuck in the walls.

It feels like being whisked by Barry- going so fast that, for a moment, the world sometimes seems like it’s at a standstill- before Digger’s head swells and bursts outward, a splatter of blood and gray matter painting the walls and the ceiling, and Len hears a sound- is that his voice? Is he screaming?- before he fires his cold gun into the room, icing the four agents who’d surrounded Digger and watched as he-

As he-

In a burst of rage, he smashes his gun down against the forearm of the man holding the detonator, breaking it off from the elbow down to shatter against the floor as Len moves past them, reeling it all until there’s just a shard of ice where his heart should be. He’s calm. He’s rational. He can make this work, even with the plan gone to hell.

First priority is Digger’s body. Len is methodical as he ices it, like he would a patch of ground or a particularly tough safe; his eyes are vacant, unwilling to really look at the body of one of his best friends, the man who was a brother to him, fucking de-

Shaking off the thought physically, he releases the trigger and turns away from the flash-frozen corpse, shouting for Sam and finding him in the reflection off an iced Fed not a few seconds later, looking absolutely haggard.

“Cold, what the fuck’s- oh, Christ.” Even in the reflection, even behind his helmet, Len sees Sam’s eyes go wide at the sight of Digger. “Is he…?”

“Get him outta here, Scudder.” There’s no room for argument and Sam knows it, leaving the relatively safety of the Mirror World to collect Digger’s frozen body from the floor as Len ices over a large patch of the wall to make a larger surface for them to pass through.

There’s a plan in place for this, as much as Len hates to admit it. It’s been haunting him for years, the thought that they’re all mortal, and he’d hoped to never use Avernus for anything more than someone dying of old age in their sleep. Wishful thinking, he supposes, but who wouldn’t want their family to live their longest and fullest lives? Hell, nobody deserves to die like this, not even a miserable bastard like Digger, not even after he’d killed that Gotham capitalist.

Sam fires his gun into the ice and it ripples for a moment before settling, the younger man adjusting his grip on the body before looking back at Len. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“You don’t give orders,” he growls, but Scudder doesn’t relent, baring his teeth back at Len.

“Job’s gone to hell, Snart, you’ll stay fuckin’ put while I get everyone I can into the goddamn mirror, not go running around to get yourself offed by more Feds.”

Len’s hand flexes around the grip of his gun and then loosens as he nods curtly. “I’m last through.”

“I know, Len,” Sam assures him before stepping into his reflection with Digger’s body.

He can’t help pacing while he waits- part of Len wants to smash the frozen agents to snow, part of him wants to run to find his sister, his husband- but Scudder’s right. Damn him, but he is. They need to get out of here, and Len running off half-cocked and angry, so angry, no matter how he’s tried to freeze it out, will just get him killed.

Like Digger.

Sam’s hand emerges from the ice a few long minutes later and Len takes it, stepping through the reflection, used to the way it clings to him, like emerging from being underwater until the surface tension finally breaks. The Mirror World is never pleasant, and he’s glad for Scudder’s hustle to the next bright spot in the murky and imbalanced dimension, dragging Len through the floor-length mirror in the front hall of the den and then firing his gun again to shut the portal down entirely.

It’s a good thing, too, because Len takes a few deep breaths before turning on his heel and slamming his fist into the mirror.

The way it shatters is utterly unsatisfying, the ugly way his knuckles pop bringing him no catharsis, and the voices that call out in response-

“Len!”

“¡Dios!”

“Cold!”

Only three. Three plus Digger, dead, headless, frozen, and neither Lisa nor Mick among them-

He turns back around to see Sam, Marc, and James staring at him in concern. Marc’s hair is more of a windswept mess than usual, Sam’s helmet is discarded to show the furrows in his brow, and James looks almost green, lips pressed in a thin line as he watches Len from behind his domino.

“What the fuck was that,” he asks aloud, and none of them answer, so he raises his voice. “What the fuck was that? That wasn’t Flash, or Icon, or Rocket- those were the damn Feds, and they nabbed half of us. They m-” The words stick in his throat, if only because he sees a bright puff of red hair around the corner.

“Uncle Len?” Owen.

Len wants nothing more in this moment than to have died in Digger’s place.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Is everything okay?”

Swallowing back the shake in his voice, Len nods. “Just job stuff, Owen. You need somethin’?”

The boy almost shakes his head, then shrugs instead, looking at his feet.

“How ‘bout Marc comes and reads you one of his boring old books to help you get back to sleep,” he suggests gently, and Owen looks up again to shoot Mardon a hopeful glance.

“Can we keep going with Connecticut Yankee?”

At a loss for words for a brief moment, Marc spares Len a helpless look before smiling gently at Owen. “Of course, niño.”

Marc reaches out to squeeze Len’s arm before following Owen back through the house to the boy’s room, leaving him with Scudder and Jesse, the latter looking ready to squirm out of his skin as he glances at the hallway and then back down, not looking at Len or Sam.

Len watches James until Marc and Owen’s footsteps fade and Owen’s door clicks shut, a chill crawling across Len’s skin as his blood freezes in his veins.

“Trix. Look at me.” James lifts his head and Len sees his Adam’s apple bob, hands curling into fists as he holds himself back from drawing the cold gun once more. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Snart, we don’t know it was an inside job-”

“Don’t fuckin’ gimme that, Scudder, we know damn well it was. No way the Feds would get the drop on us otherwise.” He steps closer to Trickster and the young Rogue flinches. “James. Answer me.”

A soft wheeze escapes him before he musters words. “Cold, I swear to God, I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think what, Jesse? You didn’t think they’d really catch us? You didn’t think they’d get so many?” It takes everything in Len not to grab James by the front of his uniform and shake him. “You didn’t think they’d murder one of us?”

“No! No, I didn’t, I just thought-”

“They’re the fucking Feds, not the CCPD! They’re competent, especially when some meshugenah hands them all the intel they need because he thinks- what, exactly? What were you thinking, you fucking idiot?”

James shoves Len back, shame turning to something ugly and defiant in the face of Len’s anger, and Len has to put a hand up to keep Sam from stepping in.

“I was thinking about this, Cold! The way you treat me, the way the Rogues fucking treat me- how I never get the chance to prove myself-”

”Prove yourself?” Len cuts in, “Kid, what the hell are ya talkin’ about? You haven’t needed to prove yourself since you first joined up! You made it through the trial period, you showed us you had the skills- that was all we needed! You’re a Rogue! End of story!”

“But it’s not! You all still treat me like a child-”

“You’re second-youngest!”

“-and like you don’t want me around-”

“Because you’re an ass, James, not ‘cause you’re not capable!”

Jesse makes a disgusted noise. “Like everyone in this group isn’t an ass sometimes!”

“Not everyone’s a navel-gazin’ homophobic jerk, James, and you know it damn well,” Len snaps back. “You, you were a pain in my ass, in everyone’s asses, and I stood up for you. I played the leader card, more’n once, because you were family, James. You were my fucking son, and I wasn’t about to put you out.”

A hush falls as James stares at Len, the oh-so-clever Trickster finally at a loss for words. His breath shudders, and Len watches him struggle through his emotions as the words sink in. Sam shifts uncomfortably in Len’s peripheral vision.

“Cold- Len. I’m sorry. I don’t-” His voice falters. “I dunno what I was thinking.”

Len wants to forgive. He does. He didn’t spend years handpicking a team with the intention of giving up on them, or leaving them behind. He didn’t cultivate a family just to turn his back when things got rough, but this-

This is beyond rough.

He hadn’t brought James in, young and scared and alone but so, so brilliant, just to drop him on his ass again. It’s been years of Len trying to help James, make him a better man as well as a better criminal, and to see he learned nothing- to see him betray the family, to see him orphan Owen-

“You broke my heart, kid,” Len admits quietly, raising his hand to halt any answer and talking over James when he doesn’t take the visual cue. “You broke my damn heart, but if you’re out, you’re out.”

His eyes are steely even as Jesse tries to reason with him. “Len, come on-”

“That’s enough.” The words hurt, but Len gets them out, even if his voice is hushed. “Go tell your Fed buddies that James Jesse’s all theirs. The Trickster’s dead.”

James recoils, brows drawn together. “You can’t do that.”

“I can, and I am,” Len assures him. “Trickster’s dead. And if Jesse sets foot in the Gem Cities again, he’ll be dead, too.”

Stepping out of the way, Len gestures from James to the front door. “You know the way.”

The silence draws out between them as Jesse stands there, a tremor in his frame as he stares at Len, as if the look will change his mind, but Len is set. His hand drops to his gun when it starts getting too long for his tastes, and only then does James look away, eyes on the ground as he hustles past Len and Sam, leaving without another word.

Len watches him go and allows himself one shuddering breath once the door shuts behind James, covering his eyes for a long moment before he gets it together.

Cold. Hard. Calm. He’s fine. They’re all gonna be fine.

Everyone but Digger, that is.

He pulls his phone from an inside pocket of his parka, turning it on and dialing a number he knows by heart, eyes distant as he listens to it ring.

“Hey. Yeah. Yeah, I know what time it is. Listen, Flash. I need your help.”

[dearlazerbunny]

Mistakes

Pairings: Kylo Ren x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M for mentions of suicidal intent

Words: 3800

Summary: Written for anon, who requested an angsty breakup and drunk Kylo. Anon- let me know if you like it, or if you’d like me to give it another shot! I’m still building my angst muscles, and I want it to be exactly what you want : )

From the way Kylo stalked out of the meeting room, you could tell it hadn’t gone well. You had conveniently positioned yourself at a station just outside the door so you could catch him right after he got out- meetings with Hux generally required a little emotional management afterwards, and you were the only person who ever seemed to be able to calm him down. So you stood at a terminal pretending to press buttons and waited for the inevitable explosions.

There weren’t any, thank god- just a clearly seething boyfriend who even with his mask on looked about two seconds away from Force-choking the next person in his path. You subtly slipped away from the station and positioned yourself in Kylo’s line of sight. When you were sure he saw you, you aimed for the nearest storage closet and shut the door behind you.

A few minutes later, he followed, shutting the door so hard it rattled the shelves behind you. His breathing was heavy, and you waited a few moments before carefully reaching up and finding the release buttons on his helmet, removing it and setting it on the floor beside you. His face was red, his hair wild, and you’d only seen a similar look in his eyes when he got a little too angry and threatened to go find Hux and stab him right then and there. (You’d talked him out of that one too).

“Hey. You okay?”

He stares intently at something past your shoulder like he might set it on fire through his gaze alone. “Hey. Look at me.” You tap his jaw with a finger, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “What’d General Horrible do this time?”

Usually that gets you at least a smirk, but he’s uncharacteristically quiet. Okay, so something really bad then. You try to take his hand but he yanks it away, stooping to retrieve his mask and replace it over his stony face. “I’m fine,” comes through the synthesizer, cold and impersonal. And he’s gone a second later, door swinging shut with a certain finality. You’re left watching his retreating form through the porthole. Well, that didn’t bode well.

You swapped night shifts with a friend so you could go visit Kylo instead. Making your way down the hallways, you flipped back and forth between going on the offensive (asking him to talk) or just letting him sit in silence with you curled up on the bed. Probably best to judge his mood and then decide. You key in his passcode and let the door slide open.

You’re met with his saber glowing at your throat and you throw up your hands, eyes wide. “Kylo, it’s me, stars! Put that thing away!” He holds it a few more seconds before disengaging and letting it clunk to the floor. So unlike him, this thing is his pride and joy. He wanders to the other side of the room, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the ends, and you carefully pick up the saber by the hilt and place it on the bed. “Such a warm welcome,” you joke, taking a seat on the black silk sheets. “If only everyone greeted me like they wanted to kill me.”

“What are you doing here?”

The ice in his tone takes you aback. “Um… I just thought I’d come see if you were okay. You seemed pretty pissed earlier, so I figured-”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I- what now? Last I checked you’re the one who gave me the code.”

“A mistake.”

“A mistake?” You stand. Suddenly the bed isn’t so comfortable. “What do you mean by that...?”

“You heard what I said.” He turns on you like you’re a Resistance member standing in his way. “It was a mistake.”

“I- Kylo-”

“No. Shut up.” He’s pacing now, back and forth. You wouldn’t be surprised if his footsteps are heard on the floor below. “I need to think.”

“Excuse me? You don’t just get to tell me to shut up, Kylo-!”

“I said shut up!” All of a sudden you’re slammed up against the wall behind you, back to steel such a sudden shock you sink to the ground, head pounding. Kylo’s hand is outstretched in your direction. You’re too busy seeing red to notice the terrified expression on his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You stand on shaky legs, using the wall to support yourself. “If you don’t want me here, say so! Use your words, Kylo, don’t hide behind your stupid Force powers!”

He walks up slowly until he’s towering over you. “I don’t want you here. Leave. Now.”

“No.” He steps back, shocked, and you get right back up in his face. “Tell me what’s going on, for god’s sake! You can’t just get rid of me that easily, Kylo!”

“Yes, I can. We’re through.”

Time seems to stop. “We- what?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Yeah… yeah I think you might have to.” You carefully step back out of his space. “Is that really what you want?”

“Yes! How many times do I have to say it!”

“But- why? What did I do wrong? What did I-”

“Out!” You’re being pushed towards the door by an invisible hand, and despite the door being pneumatic, it slams behind you. Standing in the cold hallway, you feel like you’re going numb. It’s a long trek back to your ow quarters, and all you can hear is his words echoing through your head. We’re through. We’re through. We’re through.

Sitting down on your bed, you pull your knees up to your chest, trying to find something to hold on to. Reality starts to sink in. You were… done. Over. No more Kylo and you. No more Kylo.

And it didn’t feel like there’d be any more you, either.

…..

You took a few days off from work, unable to do much other than sit in your bed and cry. Luckily, once you explained what had happened in as few words as possible, the other nurses were more than happy to cover a few of your shifts. Those few days were hell though, with nothing to distract you but your own thoughts. You kept seeing the good- the first time you’d made him laugh, when he confessed his feelings, that first kiss- only for the illusion to be shattered by the fury you’d witnessed that night. I don’t want you here. We’re through. The words kept cycling through your head over and over again, with a fresh wave of tears coming forth at every round of memories.

But you couldn’t wallow in this forever. Much as you wanted to. So you pulled yourself together- took a shower for the first time in days, put on clean clothes as opposed to your tear-soaked pajamas, pulled your hair back, and went to work.

And was promptly met with another nightmare.

The entire staff was running around ragged, dealing with an apparent rapid influx of patients. There were no rooms left, and patients lined the hallways on cots, most of them moaning in pain. It was something out of a horror movie, and in your current emotional state, you wanted to run away screaming. But instead, you rolled up your sleeves, snapped on some gloves, and went to report to your supervisor.

“Y/N.” She looks up from her desk, looking absolutely haggard. “Thank god. We need everyone we’ve got.”

“What’s been going on? Some kind of virus?”

She looks at you strangely- and maybe a touch sympathetically- before her pager beeps and she sighs. “Walk with me.” You so do, through the rows of patients, as she collects vials of painkiller and seemingly distributes it to every single person on the floor. You wanted to ask what she was doing, until you noticed that every patient had bandages around their arms, torso- one even on their neck. With several, blood was slowly leaking through the white covering, and a few uses were changing bandages right there in the hallway. Curious, you subtly looked over one shoulder, trying to categorize the wound. What you saw made your heart stop.

Light saber burns and slashes.

You hurried back over to your supervisor, who was busy pushing toradol into someone’s IV. “Are they all…?”

“Light saber,” she confirmed. “All 15 of them. And we’ve got more coming, I’m sure.”

Oh, god. Kylo. What the hell are you doing?

She looks at you with stern eyes. “Look, Y/N, normally it’s none of my business, and I stay out of my staff’s personal lives. But this has got to stop. Can you talk to him? I know you’re world famous for managing his moods.’

All at once, tears begin to form in your eyes, and you hug your waist, blinking rapidly to try and clear them before they fall. “Um- no. That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

“Y/N, I know it must be scary as hell, but if it keeps up at this rate, half the base is going to be missing an arm before the month is up.”

“We- we’re not-” to your horror, a few tears escape and slide down your cheeks. Stars, you were so sick of crying. You take a deep breath.  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Your voice catches on the last word, but you try to hide it with a cough.

One look tells you your supervisor now knows exactly what’s going on, and you hate the pity that crawls across her face. “I see.” She sighs, dropping the patient’s IV tubing. “Well, go check on your roster then. Keep your head up, we don’t have time to be introspective right now.”

You grab a few vials of medication from her hand and flee, trying to wipe your eyes as subtly as possible.

……

“No, no- stop!” You toss and turn, trying to shove Kylo away from you. “Stop it! Stop saying that!” Heaving, you sit up in bed, almost hitting your head against the top of your bunk. Salt has worked its way down your cheeks and it stings a cut on your lip. You must have bitten it in your sleep. Damn him. You wipe your eyes and turn your damp pillow over to a dry side, throwing your head down onto it. Damn him, damn him, damn him. It’s been a month and he’s still in your head. Only when you shove the blankets off you in frustration do you notice the banging on your door, loud and obnoxious against the steel. You check the clock- 4AM. And you’re sure it’s not your shift. Doing a quick check to make sure your eyes aren’t too red, you throw on a t-shirt and put your hand to the scanner to open the door-

And promptly get knocked to the floor underneath a hulking mass of black.

“What the fuck- Kylo?” You scramble out from underneath him, which is kind of hard when your leg is pinned underneath his torso. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Y/N.” He looks up at you from his spot on the floor, face to the ceiling. “Hi.”

“Um- hi?” Carefully, you skirt to the edge of the room, leaving him in the center of the room. “What- what are you doing?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“So you do it by breaking down my door? I’m not even on shift, go get one of the other nurses to help you.”

“Not about that.” He shakes his head like a dog, sending his curls flying everywhere. “About us.”

“Us.” At one simple word, the tears you’d banished from your nightmare threaten to spill over once again. “There is no us. You ended that. Remember?”

“Unfortunately.” He closes his eyes into a squint. “And I- I meant- I mean-”

“Kylo.” You inch a bit closer, taking in his disheveled clothes and the tremor in his voice. “Are you… drunk?”

“Um.” He pauses, like he’s thinking. “Very.”

“Jesus- get out, Kylo. I don’t want you here.” Those same words echo in your head in his icy tone and it hurts your heart to say them.

“No- no, Y/N, please, listen-”

“Listen to what? How much you hate me? How much you never want to see me again? I get enough of that in my nightmares. Just get your ass off the floor and leave.”

He stands shakily, using you bed for support, but collapses back down onto his knees, looking for all the world like he’s begging for you right in front of your face. “Please, Y/N. I made such a big mistake. You have to take me back.” He’s crying now, pleading like he’s bargaining for his life.

“I don’t have to do anything. And I definitely don’t want to listen to this when you’re the one who broke up with me, without telling me why.” You pause, and cross your arms. “Will you tell me why now?”

He stutters. “I- I can’t-”

“Then go. Just get out.” You walk around him, head high, and open the door, pointing at the open way for all you’re worth. “Now  It’s my turn to kick you out.”

“Y/N-”

“Oh, and for the love of god, stop attacking people with that stupid saber of yours! They don’t deserve that, Kylo!”

“Maybe they do.”

“Maybe you do.” The words come out harsh, and for an instant you regret them, but at this point you just want him to leave. “Now get. Out.”

He picks himself up off the floor, silent tears still crawling down his face. God, how you wanted to kiss those tears away. Hold him, and tell him everything will be alright, just like you had so many times before. But you hold your ground, even when he looks at you so sorrowfully you feel like your heart is being ripped out of its chest. The door closes behind him, and for one moment everything is still.

Then the sobs wrack your body so powerfully they drive you to your knees, holding yourself for everything you’re worth as the ache spreads through your body.

…..        

“Heads up, we’ve got one coming in. All hands on deck.”

You nod and put your other patient’s clipboard down and pull on a fresh set of gloves while a few other nurses jog over.“What’ve we got?”

Your supervisor scans her digipad. “twenty nine year old male, unconscious for unknown reasons-” she stops abruptly. Looks up at you. “Y/N. Go take your break.”

“What? You just said all hands on deck-”

“You heard what I said-” she’s interrupted by the bay doors bursting open, a man laid out on a gurney between two paramedics. You barely have time to glance at the patient before he’s wheeled into a private room, but you’d know that face anywhere.

Kylo.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you. If you can be objective, get an IV started. If not, stay out of the room. Do you understand?”

You nod, stunned, but your body automatically grabs an IV cart and heads into the room on muscle memory alone. He’s laid out, pale and clammy, with disheveled hair and deep purple rings under his eyes. Blankets are covering most of his body, but you can imagine the rest of him doesn’t look much better. As you fumble for his left arm, you can’t help but notice bloody scratches covering the palm of his hand, like he’s been digging his nails into his own skin.

You carefully push back his sleeve and stick a vein, starting fluids and whatever else some nurse had just handed you, pushing it into the line as quickly as you could. “What happened?”

“He didn’t show up for a meeting, and when someone went to get him they found him collapsed in his quarters.” Her tone was carefully neutral as she read off the specs, and you tried to push the ever increasing panic out of your head as she continued. “Heart rhythm is shaky, and he’s unresponsive to tests.”

“Preliminary theories?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Get some blood tests in, then we’ll know more for sure.”

You nod and start collecting, thoughts racing as fast as the blood spilling into the vials.

Kylo. What happened to you?

“Y/N.” You look up from your shaky hands to see another nurse standing over your hunched form. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, but… I figured you might want to see.” She hands over a chart and you scan it quickly, wondering why she’d hand it to you-

It’s Kylo’s.

Instantly, you’re devouring it, rapidly scanning every piece of information. His counts are low all across the board and he’s definitely dehydrated, but other than that everything seems normal…? Oh. Your eyebrows raise when you get to his blood alcohol levels. “So he’s-”

“Drunk off his ass? Yeah.” You give her a look and she softens. “Look, I just figured you’d want to know there’s nothing seriously wrong with him. He blacked out. Anyone would with that much alcohol in their system. He’ll be fine, though.”

You nod at her. “Thank you.”

She shrugs her shoulders and walks away to another patient, leaving you with your thoughts. Drunk? Kylo never drank. He hated the stuff. On the rare occasion you’d smuggled some wine into his room he barely had a sip while you got tipsy. Other than that one night… Sighing to yourself, you stand and brush off your scrubs, then aim for the main hallway, heading where you never wanted to go in the first place. His room.

It’s dark and quiet. Since the diagnosis was made, the code was called off, and everyone has mostly left him alone other than to refill his fluids. You scrape a chair up to the side of his bed and sit heavily, elbows on your knees and head in your hands. You can’t stand to see him like this. He looks too vulnerable, too quiet. The commanding presence you fell in love with is completely gone, rubbed away by the pallor of his skin and his uncharacteristic stillness.

Suddenly, he stirs. First his head, back and forth, frizzing his curls onto the pillow, then the arm hooked into the IV, clearly feeling the sting of it. Before even opening his eyes, he’s already reaching to pull it out, and you do the only thing you can think of- stopping his hand with your own, grabbing his wrist before he can hurt himself further.

His eyes open, focusing on your hand hovering his in midair. Then to you. He takes you in with dark eyes, roaming over your face until he’s satisfied that it’s you and not a threat. Slowly, you release his arm  and he lets it fall back to the bed like the fight has gone out of him.

“Y/N.” His voice is rough, like it hasn’t been used in days.

“Kylo.” You stand. “I’m was just here to make sure you didn’t pull out your IV.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll notify someone that you’re awake-”

“Wait.” As you turn to walk away, he grabs your own wrist. His grip is so weak you barely feel it, but it’s more than just his hand keeping you rooted in place. “Please. Stay.”

“I don’t know why you’d want me to.” You try not to let emotion color your voice. “You made it very clear you don’t want to see me.”

“I-”

“What, Kylo?” You finally explode, kicking your chair away from his bed and taking its spot, wrenching your hand from his. “What could you possibly have to say to me after three months of nothing?”

“I tried-”

“You tried when you were so drunk you couldn’t get off my floor, Kylo. I’d hardly say that counts.”

He closes his eyes. “I wanted to die.”

That stops you cold. Even your heart feels  like it stops for a beat or two. “Want?”

“I tried to drink myself to death.” He laughs bitterly, then coughs. “Guess that didn’t work out too well.”

“They found you unconscious in your quarters.”

“Damnit.” He swears with a weary resignation.

“You-” It’s just starting to sink in. “You wanted to kill yourself.”

“Have for about a month now.” The hollowness of his voice breaks your heart in half.

“Why…?”

“Because you were gone,” he rasps. “And you’re the only thing that keeps the monsters away.”

“You left me, Kylo.” Now it’s your turn to be bitter. “It’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t want to-”

“You sounded pretty damn sure!”

“Hux threatened you.”

“He- he what now?”

“Hux. Threatened you. Or, me. Both of us? I can’t-” He coughs again, this time wracking his body until he’s curled into the bed, wincing with every breath. “I can’t think.”

Slowly, you pull the chair back to his bedside- not too close- and sit back down. “Kylo. Tell me everything.”

“He wanted you reassigned. He said you were- a distraction. That you had to go. So I thought- if I cut you off, maybe he would let you stay.

I was so scared,” he whispered. “I couldn’t lose you. But if I didn’t- you’d be gone forever. I had to keep you close. So-”

“-you broke up with me,” you finish.

Tears begin leaking from his tightly closed eyes, as if he’s in pain. “I never wanted to. I never- stars, Y/N, you’re the only good thing in my life, and I-”

“Kylo.” You reach out and cover a hand with your own and he grasps it like he’s drowning. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I could have-”

“Too big a risk. Couldn’t— take the chance.”

“So you decided to kill yourself.” Your voice is thick with tears.

“I couldn’t bear what I did to you. I heard you crying every night in your sleep,” he confesses, voice still soft as a whisper. “I hurt you so badly.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to hurt yourself, Kylo!” A scared anger pours out of you as you turn his palm over to reveal scars and still-healing wounds. “If anything happened to you I’d-”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Of course I care you idiot!” The tears are falling down your cheeks now, and he shakily reaches up to wipe them away, only causing more to fall. “I still love you! I never stopped. And you are not allowed to hurt yourself, or god forbid-” you choke up, unable to finish your sentence. “Please, Kylo. For me,” you beg. “Don’t do this again.”

“I won’t. Now that I know- you love me.” He looks at you. “It’s something to live for.”

Sobbing, you fling yourself onto his chest, clutching him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to do so. He sits up and pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around you and holding tight, riding trough the storm. “Please don’t leave me,” you whisper, and his tone matches your own when he replies,

“Not ever. Not ever again.”

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #337

"Organ Harvest, Yster and Locklear, Flux in Love”

[Locklear] Had returned to Yster's apartment and was a little concerned at not finding her there until he recalled that she was familiar with digital entities. Deciding to wait for her return from wherever they had taken her he sits in one of her chairs and pulls out a book and pen from his jacket to pass the time with-

-There's a hush and the shadows seem to deepen, the already dark walls leaning inward like existence itself bowing to a superior force.

[Azrael] is suddenly there, filling the small space. He opens a wing, sweeping part of his voluminous cloak away to release Yster-

[Yster] Blinks- THAT WAS SO COOL. THANK YOU! ... SIR!

[Azrael] Tiniest bit of a smile- YOU ARE WELCOME.

[Locklear] - Well that's not something seen everyday...

[Azrael] AH, ANOTHER OF THE DOCTORS...

[Yster] Locklear! I'm sorry, were you waiting for me?

[Locklear] - Not long, it took me a bit longer than usual to find a location for the...  Surgery

[Yster] ...Surgery?

[Azrael] Eyebrow ridge at Locklear. - MORE WORK FOR ME I ASSUME.

[Locklear] - I'm afraid we haven't met

[Azrael] NONETHELESS, YOU ARE WELL ENOUGH KNOWN TO ME.

[Yster] Urgent whisper- He's the angel of Death, duh!

[Locklear] - I see- The glint of Insanity is increasing in his eyes

[Azrael] THE KEEPER OF INSANITIES PLAYTHINGS IS ALSO WELL KNOWN TO ME.

[Yster] Is unsettled by Locklear's look-

[Locklear] - I'm assuming you're referring to the Master of the Manor?

[Azrael] THE DEMON OF THE WOODS. SLENDERMAN. YES.

[Locklear] - How interesting

[Azrael] His pinprick eyes flick to Yster - HAVE YOU SOME INTEREST IN THIS HUMAN?

[Locklear] - None of the murderous sort I assure you

[Azrael] -there's the tiniest ping like someone flicking glass and he consults a shiny object that's appeared in his hand before waving it away again- I CAN SEE THAT...

[Yster] Tries to see but isn't quick enough- I can make some tea..?

[Azrael] IT IS APPRECIATED, BUT I HAVE WORK TO DO. PLAY... GENTLY WITH ONE ANOTHER. - There's a hush and he's just gone -

[Yster] Lets out a huge breath- THAT WAS SO AMAZING.

[Locklear] Laughs a little- You seem excited now, a much better expression than what you had earlier

[Yster] I am! - She gestures at the very pointedly gothy decorations all around the apartment. - That was the best! Better then meeting any famous person alive!

[Locklear] - I'm glad you are in a better mood then

[Yster] I had lunch on a Minecraft server, visited a tropical island and talked to a dead man on a foggy moor. I'm so... just .. wow!

[Locklear] - Would you like to add to your day?

[Yster] What... what did you have in mind?

[Locklear] - A bit of revenge on the man who harmed you this evening

[Yster] I'm listening.

[Locklear] - I was wondering if you'd like to observe a surgery?

[Yster] Maybe...?

[Locklear] Stands and offers Yster a hand- You're welcome to back out at any point

[Yster] Tenatively takes his hand-

[Locklear] Leads her outside.  A very nice looking rental car is waiting and Locklear opens the passenger door for her-

[Yster] Gets inside, still wearing Dawn's orange flip flops.

[Locklear] - You'll want to be careful where you step.  Unless you wish for me to grab you a different pair of shoes?

[Yster] Umm... I'm okay with these...

[Locklear] - Very well- He shuts her door and gets in the driver side, starting the car and beginning to drive through the city

[Yster] Is a bit uncomfortable and plays with her phone a little-

[Locklear] - Would you prefer the radio be on?

[Yster] No, I'm okay... - there's the faint tic tic tic of a pick hitting stone. She's playing MC pocket edition.

-After several silent moments Locklear pulls up in front of an abandoned factory which is fairly isolated-

[Locklear] - Here we go- He leans over and opens the glove box in front of Yster.  He pulls out a surgical mask and his own trademark mark.  He hands the surgical one to Yster- So you don't breath in anything you shouldn't

[Yster] Puts it on curiously- I like the plague doctors mask. Very theatrical.

[Locklear] - Thank you- As he pulls it on a few strands of his black hair fall in front and his voice is now slightly distorted when he speaks- Remember, be careful where you step

[Yster] Just follows quietly-

[Locklear] Pushes open one of the old doors in front of the building with a creak.  Old and rusted equipment surrounds them and the light is dim except for where it filters in from holes in the roof.  Tied down in the center of the building on a table is Yster's assailant-

[Stranger] Is gagged but would obviously be spitting insults if he could-

[Yster] Oh... do creepypastas have some weird way of not getting caught by cops for the things they do?

[Locklear] - You could say that, we do have an increased speed, and we all know how long it usually takes the cops to arrive.  If we really get in a bind Slender can always teleport us to the manor.  Unlike most of the others though I prefer to choose isolated places like this where I'm less likely to be heard and if you walk into an abandoned place as if you own it?  Well, anybody who see's it will not question it

[Yster] And the... evidence?

[Locklear] - Can be found, but doesn't always trace back to us.  We do all have our trademarks though

[Yster] She gives the tied up guy a calculating look. - Mind if I do something?

[Locklear] - So long as it doesn't damage his organs?  Go right ahead

[Yster] Reels up and elbow drops the guy in the junk as hard as she can-

[Stranger] Gives a pained muffled scream-

[Yster] I hope your balls explode. Disgusting creep.

[Locklear] - Well he won't be alive long enough to find out

[Yster] I kinda figured. I'll just... back off a bit...

[Locklear] From his jacket pulls out a satchel full of surgical tools.  He starts by cutting away the mans clothes.  His eyes scan the body before him, as if it were already a corpse and not a struggling living human.  He begins by placing his scalpel at the man's collar bone and pressing it in before dragging it down the length of his body-

[Yster] Is thumbing her phone nervously-

[Locklear] Continues with a practiced ease, ignoring the squirts of blood which stains his coat as he opens the human before him.  He gets the flesh pulled back and away and reaches in, beginning to break the ribs so he can get at the vital organs more easily- Remember, you may leave here at any time Yster

[Yster] Forgets that her game was still on and jumps at the small explosive noise as her avatar gets blown up by a creeper- Aaa!

[Locklear] Pauses and glances at her- Is everything alright?

[Yster] Just... forgot to turn my game off. I got dead...

[Locklear] - I see, would you be so kind as to grab the containers off the table behind me?

[Yster] Uumm okay..? - She takes the containers and creeps a little closer to hand them to him, but makes sure he's between her and the victim so she can't see much-

[Locklear] - Thank you, just put them down next to him, my hands are a little full

[Yster] puts them down and scoots them over before stepping back again-

[Locklear] Begins to pull out organs, starting with the ones the assailant can survive the longest without and listing off places as he places them into the containers-

[Yster] I'm almost afraid to ask...

[Locklear] - For children.  The least this man can do is provide hope for another

[Yster] I thought Insanity just drove creepypastas to kill... is it just because you can decide what to do with the remains?

[Locklear] - Partially, but it's also how I started.  There was a young girl...  I was her doctor and she desperately needed several transplants.

[Yster] I understand. But still... couldn't you just kill him first?

[Locklear] - After what he's done?  He doesn't deserve that pity- There's a large spurt of blood and some of it lands on Yster

[Yster] Dammit! But you're making a mess. And letting him scream, even muffled, could attract attention.

[Locklear] - The closest occupied buildings are bordered by busy streets which drown out his noise.  The ground around here is covered in broken glass and other things you wouldn't wish to step on at night so nobody will walk near here either- He pulls the liver out and places it in a larger container

[Yster] This is still making me really nervous. You understand I have legal training right? I'm going to have to dispose of my clothing somehow now!

[Locklear] Sighs and stands up straight before taking his bright red jacket off to reveal the crisp white shirt underneath and offering it to her- I can easily have your clothing cleaned of any evidence by either Solace or Trender...  Although now that I think about it Trender would probably just make you new clothes entirely

[Yster] I think I need a break... Just some quiet time to think- She takes his coat reflexitvely-

[Locklear] - The car is open

[Yster] Yeah... I think I need to sit down.

[Locklear] - I won't be much longer

[Yster] Wanders outside in a bit of a daze. She glances at the phone, it's still showing her death screen. Wordlessly she closes the window and the phone shows her messages as the top window. Her finger is hovering over the dial button. She slides into the car and feels a lump as she sits. Curiously pulling Locklear's phone out of the pocket. It falls open easily and Cp's number is the last call. She pokes the button decisively.

[CP] Groans mentally before responding- What now Locklear?

[Yster] Very quietly- Cp... it's Yster again. Please don't hang up.

[CP] - What now?  Lie and I were just about to go to bed...

[Yster] Locklear is cutting up a victim and I got blood on me and I'm not sure where I am and I need help.

[CP] - For fucks sake, have a little more trust in the doctor will ya?  He's not going to let anything happen to you

[Yster] It has nothing to do with him! I'm sitting in a car with evidence of murder on me outside a place where it's actually happening. I'd like to not go to jail thank you.

[CP] - You wont go to jail.  Locklear is good at what he does.  By the time the cops are even aware that somebody is missing there's little or no evidence the murder even happened

[Yster] Let me put it another way. I know you can drag people in there easily. Grab me and let me crash on your couch for a few hours and I'll play a mean prank on Jeb in return. Deal?

[CP] - And piss Locklear off?  I don't think so

[Yster] What are you talking about? I barely know him. If you won't do it, I'll walk home.

[CP] - Yster, inviting a normal human to one of his surgeries isn't normal for him.  Treating somebody who isn't a child isn't normal for him, for some reason you've caught his attention and making him worry would be a bad idea.  Besides, keeping him around will probably mean that you'll be a lot safer

[Yster] Fine. I'll just call Doc instead.

[CP] - And I'll tell them to leave you there.  Trust me on this, you'll be safe

[Yster] Hangs up on him and starts texting-

[Locklear] Has finished up his murder and is bringing the containers out.  He opens the trunk of the car where an ice chest is waiting and carefully stores the organs there-

[Yster] Gets out of the car without noticing him and starts walking quickly, she's turned the stained shirt inside out and left his jacket in the car-

[Locklear] Hears her- Where are you going?

[Yster] Breaks into a run and darts around a corner-

[Locklear] Hurries after her knowing she's heading for a dead end- Yster...

[Yster] Holds the phone in front of her and is suddenly dragged into it by a huge purple paw with black claws-

[Locklear] - YSTER!

-The phone clunks on the ground, protected by a rubbery case, and the night is quiet again-

[Locklear] Approaches it and picks it up- Damnit...

-The text on the screen is a message to Doc and their reply-

-Yster- Panicking, please help!

-Doc- Be there in five!

[Locklear] Scowls and goes to retrieve his own phone to call CP-

[Yster] Squeaks in alarm as she's grabbed and falls with a 'fump!' onto the belly of the big yellow dragon-

[Doc] Sorry I took so long! I was taking a shower.  We should get inside before the mobs take an interest. - Xe rolls her onto hir back and makes a fast trot for the castles back door- Hop off and run in, I'll follow you.

[Deer] Is in the kitchen making food-

[Yster] Gets bogged down a bit on the sticky mycelium and scoots inside.

[Doc] Shifts and follows her only to be pounced and hugged-

[Yster] Thank you! I thought I was going to just start screaming and never stop.

[Doc] Helps her downstairs- Did Azrael drop you off somewhere weird?

[Yster] No... he took me home. but Locklear was waiting for me. And.. he killed a guy... the one that stabbed me, I mean fuck that creep but still... I think I might be losing my compsure. And OH MY GODS Noodle and Rex!! I don't know how long I've been gone!

[Grinny] Watches them from a corner-

[Doc] Rex and Noodle? Are they your kids or something?

[Yster] Distressed- No! They're a spider and a snake respectively- sniffles.

[Doc] Pats her arm- I know where you live, I'll get them and come right back. Just relax- steps away for a moment-

[Grinny] - Well what do we have here?

[Yster] Startles at the voice- Is someone there?

[Grinny] - Down here human

[Yster] Oh, a kitty. And you talked? Um, I'm Yster.

[Grinny] - Grinny, my, you smell like Locklear...

[Yster] Rubs her arms- I had his coat on for a few minutes.

[Grinny] - Oh now that is special, he never let's anybody else wear his coat...

[Yster] Yeah... special... he seems to be interested in me for some reason.

[Grinny] - I wonder why...

[Doc] Comes back with her pets inside a pair of dungeon spawn cages. The snake could get out, but she seems too sleepy to try. - Hey Grinny.

[Yster] Oh thank you!

[Grinny] - Fuck off

[Doc] Sour as always. It smells like Deerheart is making a snack. You could join us Grinny, if you want.

[Grinny] - And I'd want to do that why?

[Yster] Cats who hang out in kitchens usually get treats. - [She's much calmer with her pets around]-

[Doc] Nods

[Grinny] Huffs and looks away from them, his tail flicking-

[Doc] Gives him a gentle pat and ruffles his ears a little before moving that direction.

[Yster] Please?

[Grinny] Just lays down-

[Yster] Oh... well, your little sweater is fetching. Nice to meet you Grinny. - follows Doc.

[Deer] Is just finishing up a couple of midnight snacks- Oh Yster!  You're back already?

[Yster] I was in a bad place and just needed out...

[Deer] - I'm sorry to hear that

[Yster] It's nobodies fault. I shouldn't have gone with him. But I was concerned that saying no would cause bad things to happen as well.

[Doc] That's rather unfair...  I'm glad I could help at least.

[Yster] And Cp just acted like I was overreacting. He really pissed me off.

[Deer] - Yes but CP also knows them better than we do

[Yster] He did a vivisection on a live person Deerheart....

[Doc] Little hiss of indrawn breath-

[Deer] - Well, he does still have Insanity...- She is appalled by the idea as well

[Yster] Yeah... - she looks over- Why... why do you have a bed in your kitchen?

[Deer] - Lie

[Doc] It gets used. Anyone hurt usually gets brought to me. The house is full of random beds.

[Yster] Sits down on it and puts the cages on the table.

[Deer] Brings the food out and see's Noodle- What's that?

[Yster] That's my snake, her name is Noodle.

[Rex] Is bigger here, about the size of a hand with splayed fingers- He scuttles over to the side of the cage closest to Deerheart.

[Doc] Aww he's such a tiny spider.

[Deer] - Eliza might like the spider

[Yster] They mean a lot to me. - she offers the spider a finger through the bars and it pats her digit with two legs.

[Deer] - Do you want anything to eat or drink?

[Yster] Maybe a little milk? My stomach is doing sumersaults.

[Doc] Sits down and examines Noodle. - Such pretty little scales.

[Deer] - I'll be right back

[Grinny] Slinks down the stairs-

[Doc] What do they eat?

[Yster] Bugs, mice

[Doc] Well if TLOT's cricket got eaten he'd probably be annoyed, but mice I can give you in spades.

[Deer] Comes back with a bottle of milk-

[Grinny] Slinks behind the kitchen counter-

[Doc] See's Grinny but pretends not too so he won't leave again. - Xe takes a mouse egg out of a trunk and holds it up. - Would one each be okay?

[Yster] I'd say not for Rex, but at this size he'd probably eat it. Go ahead.

[Deer] Sits down and grabs an apple-

[Doc] Taps a mouse in each cage and then watches interestedly-

[Noodle] Eyeballs the mouse but ignores it for now.

[Rex] Pounces the mouse and bites it excitedly, making it pop into a morsel that's quickly scarfed up-

[Yster] Good Rex... -yawns

[Deer] - Do you just want to crash here?  You might get woken up by somebody coming in for breakfast, but it's the closest bed

[Yster] If you don't mind. I'm so tired....

[Deer] - Go right ahead, we'll let you get some well deserved sleep

[Flux] Is waiting by the bath for Notch-

[Notch] Gives Stevie a hug as Ever darts into the house, it's already getting dark.

[Stevie] - See you around father

[Notch] I had fun, and I'm proud of you for trying to include your brother.

[Stevie] - That was your idea, not mine

[Notch] Gives him a wry look- Good night Stevie.

[Stevie] - Night

[Notch] Goes inside and stows his tools by the door. He's dusty but elated. - Flux?

[Flux] - Down here

[Notch] Follows the sound down the ladder- You're so nice to come home too.

[Flux] - And you're filthy, come here and wash off, it's nice and warm

[Notch] Pft. I've been working. It's tough bonding two kids with so much bad blood between them. - He kicks off his shoes and works on pulling off his shirt as well.

[Flux] Approaches and kisses him- Would you like company?

[Notch] Please. I have a little bit of news. We found the Honedge. So that's one less thing to fret about.

[Flux] - That's wonderful, that will keep CP calm as well which should be helpful to Lie

[Notch] Kisses her back- I think they'll be okay. I saw how Cp was with Stevie when he was small.

[Flux] - So did I, he'll be a wonderful father, and you an astounding grandfather

[Notch] Blushes- Oh, you mean because of Endrea. Yeah, that was fun. She's awesome and so are her little ones. - He hops out of his pants and nearly falls in the tub-

[Flux] Laughs a little before dispelling her clothing and slipping in next to him- Careful...

[Notch] I'm trying. I think I wore myself out a bit. I should have eaten while I was walking back.

[Flux] Smiles and reaches over the edge of the tub into a trunk and offers Notch an apple-

[Notch] Coming from you, I'm suprised it's not golden my love. - Makes sappy eyes at her and reaches out for it.

[Flux] Teasingly keeps it away to draw Notch closer- Would you like it to be so?

[Notch] Going to flaunt your magick, my mystical lover?

[Flux] - Perhaps- She oscillates the color of the apple between red, yellow, and gold

[Notch] Reaches for her instead - I will accept whatever you choose to give...

[Flux] Lands on the gold and offers it once more-

[Notch] Takes it reverently and eats it- I may need my strength...

[Flux] - For what pray tell?

[Notch] One never knows. - He scoots over closer to her-

[Flux] Leans over and takes a bite of the apple for herself-

[Notch] Steals a kiss on her cheek as she does so-

[Flux] Moves a bit faster to steal a kiss from his lips-

[Notch] Mmm, apples are lovely, but you taste even sweeter.

[Flux] - Then come and taste more

[Notch] Snakes his arms around her and places a kiss on the nape of her neck. His messy hair brushes her chin and it smells of iron, coal and soil.

[Flux] Lifts her hand, cupped with water and runs it through his hair as her other hand came to rest on his waist-

[Notch] Kisses all along her neck and down towards her breasts, threading his fingers in her long hair. He takes a deep breath, - You always smell so divine... like crisp snow on aspens and spruce. Bright and sharp like dawn's first rays over mountains...

[Flux] - You usually smell of the earth

[Notch] Chuckles- I was always a daydreamer, never got out that much, but collected lots of photos of pretty outdoor stuff. Then I dreamed of a wild world without a lot of the things that kept me inside out there. - He holds her tighter, nuzzling into her bosom.

[Flux] Bows her head to kiss his head- If you had not, then I would not exist

[Notch] You are a dream come true. And I want to show you in every way I can... - He goes a bit lower, cupping her rear, she's easy to lift in the water.

[Flux] Makes a small noise of surprise and rest her hands on his shoulders to balance herself-

[Notch] Kneels down and lifts her legs onto his shoulders, nuzzling between them-

[Flux] - Ah, wait, you'll drown...

[Notch] Lifts her a bit higher- I'm okay right where I am. - He laps at her ever so gently-

[Flux] Moans and runs her fingers through his hair- Notch...

[Notch] Just nips at her lightly and wiggles his tongue inside a little more.

[Flux] Let's out a small yelp and clutches more tightly at him- Notch, please, this is...

[Notch] Yes? - lap lap lap

[Flux] Just moans as her head falls back in pleasure-

[Notch] I thought  so.... - He gets her into a better pose on a stair leading down to the water and rubs at her with two fingers as well.

[Flux] - Notch...  Notch please...  My love...

[Notch] Feels a little thrill at her words and looks up - Flux?

[Flux] She brushes Notch's hair aside- My love

[Notch] And you are mine.

[Flux] Smiles and leans down, drawing his face to hers to kiss it-

[Notch] Kisses her back, his arms wrapped around her- How did I get so lucky...?

[Flux] - You created your own luck by creating the game

[Notch] But how could I have ever guessed... Now I know how Doc must have felt, learning that the land itself gave them Deerheart... I love you Flux. I'd give you anything.

[Flux] - And I would do the same for you

[Notch] I want you Flux... your taste, your scent, yourself pressed up against me. - He leans against her warm belly, his short nails lightly scratching the base of her spine.

[Flux] - I want you close as well, please Notch, work your own magic

[Notch] Goes back to work on her, teasing and warming her, he's hard and ready but wants to make sure she is as well.

[Flux] It doesn't take long for FLux to be ready and she tugs at Notch's hair with want-

[Notch] Works his way up and nips at her nipples, his member bumping lightly against her thigh.

[Flux] Reaches down with one of her hands and begins to stroke his member, encouraging him closer- I think...  I think you are just as wanting

[Notch] I always am. I worked today, but I saved my best for you. - He mounts her, teasing her with the tip before sliding inside with a sigh of relief- So perfect...

[Flux] Moans as well, pulling Notch closer to herself and calling out his name-

[Notch] Is lost in her eyes, moving in perfect time, his fingers are tangled in her hair as he bears down on her. Biting his lip to not ruin the moment with unseemingly panting.

[Flux] Draws closer to his neck and peppers it with kisses and nips-

[Notch] Arches into her kisses as well, mumbling her name like a prayer. She's warm and wet and inviting, wrapping around him and warming his hearts as well as his loins.

[Flux] Cries out as she feels her climax coming closer-

[Notch] Goes harder, feeling himself tighten as she squeezes him perfectly. He lifts her as not to bruise her against the floor, trying to wring the noises of pleasure from her that he knows so well of late.

[Flux] Cries out and feels herself begin to disperse from the overwhelming feeling of her pleasure- Notch...

[Notch] Hold on for me.... just a bit longer... stay with me please...

[Flux] - For you, I will

[Notch] Gives a few more thrusts and then pulls back. Cupping his hand to catch his flow so it doesn't get on her. His knees wobble a bit and he lets himself down easy onto her- Thank you...

[Flux] - I'm sorry- She disperses, unable to hold her form

[Notch] Flops the last few inches onto the floor- Oof! It's okay. I'll just... - He lets himself gently back down into the hot water. - I'm good-

[Flux] Reforms and reaches for him- I'm here

[Notch] Cuddles her- Thank goodness for that....

[Flux] - Rest, I've got you

[maniibear]

Code Name: Commander Title: Feel | On AO3 Universe: MCU, Ambiguous Rating: G Summary: “Mr. Stark is on the tenth floor,” JARVIS says. The terse reply makes Steve more anxious, because he’s never had to drag good news out of Tony’s AI.

Notes: For @capim-tinybang, inspired by art from @shaliara. And for STONY Bingo square ‘Major Injuries’.

Nobody expects the explosion when they hear it.

Steve bolts out of the hovering Quinjet, barely noticing the 15 foot drop, and his heart nearly stops when he sees the smoking crater blown in one of the higher floors of the building before him. It’s an office space still under construction and in any case, civilians have been cleared out of it hours ago, however...

“Iron Man, report!” Steve barks into the comms, running for the entrance without a thought for its stability. When there’s not answer, he tries again, “Tony! Where are you?”

For a hopeful moment, his comm crackles to life. Instead of Tony quick and assuring voice, it’s JARVIS who answers. “Two agents of SHIELD are located on the eighth floor and two more on the ninth floor, Captain. I have already asked for emergency evacuation.”

“Acknowledged,” Sam says grimly over the comms. Steve spots the reassuring glint of Falcon’s wings under the sunset as he enters the building from air and continues to sprint up the stairs, heart pounding.

“Tony?” he asks breathlessly.

“Mr. Stark is on the tenth floor,” JARVIS says. The terse reply makes Steve more anxious, because he’s never had to drag good news out of Tony’s AI.

“Relay status,” he commands. “The armor, injuries, anything I need to know.”

“Multiple major safety hazards on this floor,” JARVIS says. “Injuries are extensive and significant. Please hurry, Captain.”

-

Twelve hours ago, they’d been in bed. Twelve hours ago, Tony’s head was in his lap, and Steve was admiring how the dappled light streamed in through the window and stained his lover’s skin in bright little patches. Tony was expounding on the merits of breakfast in bed, mainly how he found it benefitted his health to just lie back on his supersoldier boyfriend while Steve fed him fruit and brioche toast.

“Sounds a bit like I’m doing all the work,” Steve had said.

Tony tutted casually. “Not for no reward, my sweet,” he said and flung his arm out to scratch lightly at Steve’s cheek. To the naked eye, he was the picture of indolence, but they’d been together long enough for Steve to know this was as overt as Tony was going to get to asking for affection.

Steve had just been about to kiss his hand when JARVIS interrupted, “Sir, there’s a matter of concern on the news.”

Their phones and identicards had gone off at the same time, which meant serious trouble, so while Steve reached for his tablet, Tony was already watching the video feed.

The national news had been hacked and some Mandarin copycat wannabe was informing everyone from coast to coast that he’d rigged several New York city high rises to blow for every hour his demands weren’t met--his demands being the delivery of Tony Stark and the Iron Man.

Oh, like hell.

To say the following hours were tense was an understatement. Since the message was broadcast, Steve had everything thrown at him, from sharp words to actual garbage because some people saw his refusal to negotiate with a terrorist as reckless favoritism. They were wrong, however; Steve certainly acknowledged his bias for Tony, but giving up a teammate or any caliber of Starktech to a madman was certainly out of the question.

Not to mention, the nation was better off with Tony overseeing operations than playing a bargaining chip. Indeed, while the rest of the team handled groundwork and evac, Tony and a handpicked contingent of SHIELD agents had located and disabled all of the explosives over the longest twelve hours anyone cared to remember. 

After Iron Man and his little helpers finished their final sweep of the office building in Midtown, Steve had decided, he was going to haul his boyfriend home and right back into bed. 

-

“Recheck for more active IEDs!” Steve shouts over the comms. He can hear SHIELD copters and the whine of the Quinjet as Natasha pilots it back around, but what’s the point of backup when the worst already happened?

The higher he climbs, the more hazardous things get. Steve holds his shield up over his head and the sound of pelting concrete and metal becomes a grim soundtrack. He is greeted by piles of rubble and the smell of hot steel when he enters the tenth floor. Wretchedly, he notices how the explosion’s torn the builders’ progress apart-- unfixed concrete lies in huge chunks, spiked through with twisted rebar. The steel rods jut out like teeth behind a thick curtain of gray dust.

Steve homes in on a smear of red behind the gritty haze. The distinct shape of Tony’s armor is hard to miss, yet disquiet paws at tentative relief, then stifles it completely upon getting up close.

Steve skids to a halt in front of Iron Man, mouth dry. Tony doesn’t have his helmet on and there are large gaps in the suit, like each piece has been arrested mid-undress. Between these gaps, Tony’s undersuit is dark, but there’s enough light to catch on the blood pouring out of his shoulder and pinpoint exactly where he ended up impaled on the steel bar.

Steve can’t help it, he’s a tactician. His eyes observe, his brain catalogs it all with indelible precision; Iron Man is impaled in three places: right shoulder, right gauntlet (there’s no evidence the flesh is wounded), and the left side of his abdomen. Steve doesn’t even have the time to think about all that can go wrong before the medics arrive. He just drops the shield and tries to say Tony’s name.

Steve thinks it might not have been loud enough after forcing its way through the lump in his throat, but Tony stirs. His expression is pinched in pain and his eyes are wet with tear tracks clearing a path down his right cheek, but he recognizes Steve.

“The agents…?”

“They’ll be fine,” Steve replies crisply. “Sam has them.”

Tony seems to relax at that, very minutely. Agonizingly enough, Steve notes how careful he is not to lean on the very rods lancing through his flesh. He works quickly and carefully to clear bits of rubble from the cracks in the suit.

“Should have known something was up,” Tony says. “He’s too smart...to just keep a fuckin’ list of bombs on his hard drive.”

“We’re dealing with that,” Steve replies. “You just worry about this. You stay with me, Stark.”

His hands shake when he approaches the ARC reactor. The clear, cyan glow ignites a surge of protective anger in his chest, the likes of which Steve has felt only a handful of times in his life. He can deal with general villainy all day, but for someone to have the audacity to reach for his family--

Steve savagely bends rebar out of the way, pretends they’re bones.

Tony sighs, flecks of blood on his breath. “I must be a sight, huh?” he slurs. “Very...St. Sebastian.”

Steve must look exactly as pained as he feels because Tony immediately winces. “S’ry, that was offensive.”

Steve hardly cares. “I’ll be more offended if you don’t save your strength,” he says. “Please, Tony, I need you to stay with me. Help’s on the way.”

An ETA is relayed to his comm. It’s quick, but not quick enough for Steve’s taste. It would never be quick enough, and Steve wishes it were him in Tony’s place. He’s survived worse, but Tony is much too human under the armor.

Steve examines the red and gold sheath, identifying what might be dead weight. He asks JARVIS if some extra paneling is safe to take off, so Tony might feel a little lighter...

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Tony rasps. Instead, he lifts the arm that’s not impaled at the shoulder. “This.”

Steve undoes the manual catch immediately and the glove barely falls away before Tony beckons him close enough to touch his face. Steve holds the bloody, unseasonably warm palm to his cheek. He barely has to turn his head to press little kisses on Tony’s wrist. It’s supposed to be reassuring, a solid reminder of his presence by his lover, but somehow, it feels a lot like he’s trying to comfort himself.

“You’re warm,” Tony comments. When Steve just replies with a sniffle, he says, “This is--mnh--actually unlikely to kill me. Y’know.”

Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response. He meets Tony’s eyes, kisses his palm one more time and informs him, “ETA 1 minute. We’ll get you out of here, then I’m going after this bastard myself.”

Tony grins, or rather, he does a grotesque impression of one. “Love it when you go full Cap, babe, but real quick…”

“What is it? What can I do, Tony?”

Tony jaw clenches briefly under another wave of pain. “Don’ mean t’be cheesy,” he says, each word strained. “But, mmm, kiss me?”

Steve obeys without a thought. He gingerly steps over the concrete and carefully leans over until their lips touch. Unsurprisingly, Tony is not as eager as usual, but he doesn’t stand for a chaste peck either. He makes small, needy noises until Steve brings both hands up to cup Tony’s jaw and dips his tongue into his mouth.

Tony tastes bloody, yet he gives no indication to stop. Steve only pulls away when something starts beeping and JARVIS says, “Sir, I must insist--”

“Ok ok!” Tony groans, features openly wrecked with agony. “You win, push anesthetic. Fuck...”

Steve steps back and watches in disbelief as a small needle emerges from Tony’s open gauntlet and docks in his vein. Seconds later, Tony’s eyes flutter open again. This time, they’re just a little cloudy, a little absent.

“You had that all this time and didn’t use it?” he asks sharply.

Tony shakes his head. “Don’ be mad.”

“I’m not mad!” Steve counters, fully aware that he isn’t helping his case. “I’m just--you could have used the morphine five minutes ago!”

Tony blinks at that, comically slow, like Steve’s behavior is irrational. “Then, I wouldn’t have...” he tries to raise his arm again and fails. “...wouldn’t’ve felt you.”

Steve feels the wind go right out of him. The sounds of the medical team arriving just then feels distant; he can hear them pick their way through the rubble while stands there, stunned and strangely humbled. They swarm around Tony’s slumped body, and unlike Steve, they’re efficient and knowledgeable and somehow, they’re pretty sure that everything’s going to be ok. Inevitably, someone yells at him to get out of the way.

“Come on, Cap,” Natasha tugs on his arm and Steve allows himself to be led out of the wreckage. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he goes to wipe blood off his face, but there’s no red.

[pitifulmagicalocs]

Scene

Scene: Waking Up In The Witch Farm

Characters: Mick Salgado (POV), Dr. Franklin Blythe, Lawrence O’Sullivan.

Words: 1,421

Type: Horror

Warning: Gore, cussing, blood.

Feedback Request: Hello, yes, I need validation/general thoughts about this one because I’m a little unsure.

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

MICK

His entire vision was red. Bright, searing red. Was he awake? It felt like he was awake, yet no matter how hard he pulled at his eyelids, they wouldn’t open. Normally he could jolt himself awake by tensing his muscles, but he could barely locate them, let alone move them. It was like his consciousness was nothing but a bright, red, motionless orb.

Until the pain began.

It started as a dull throb, down in the bottom left corner of his mind. Then, it began to burn, pulling his attention entirely to one-half of his body. His arm. His arm stung and burned and ached with an alarming pain.

“Ah!” he heard his own voice cry, although he felt no sound leave his lips.

“There he is,” another voice sounded, reminding him of the existence of the right side of his body.

Slowly, the bleariness began to drip away, he felt himself materialize and felt the pain intensify and become far too real.

This time, when he groaned in agony, it was completely voluntary.

“Alright, watch his vitals. We can begin soon.”

Vitals? Was he in a hospital?

All at once, his memories burst through the cloud of haze in his mind. The mall, the explosion, the falling pillar, his father, his brother, they all rushed back to him.

Did he survive? Did they come back for him? Of course. They had to.

“Z-Zac?” he croaked out feebly. He forced his eyelids open but immediately squeezed them shut to block out the intense, burning light that met his eyes. He moved to cover them, but his arm snagged, completely immobilized. He tried his injured arm and found it just as stiff, then his legs, then his torso, but he found his entire body paralyzed.

“What?—I can’t…” He opened his eyes again, squinting weakly in the powerful light. “I can’t m-ove!” His voice came out crackling, broken.

A figure stretched an arm over him, but he couldn’t make out their face, the arm reached across his torso and pulled on a thick, dark strap that stretched across his chest, pressing him into the bed.

Mick looked down at himself in a panic, finding more straps holding his wrists and ankles, and another long, heavy one pinning his legs just above his knees. One extra strap secured his upper left arm, just above a bulky, blue cast that went all the way down to his hand.

“Wh-Where…” he gurgled. He wanted to ask ‘where am I?’, although it seemed obvious he was in some sort of hospital. But then why was he restrained? He’d been in the same polyurethane cuffs before--when he’d been violent, but never this many, and certainly not while injured and unconscious.

And why was he in so much pain? He was certain he could still feel the crushed bones in his arm, piercing his skin.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he finally managed to catch a glimpse at the faces standing around him. One was an older man, at least fifty, who stood, over Mick, touching his restraints and tapping different points on his body.

The other man sat by the bed, eyes on a tiny monitor on a stand. His vitals, Mick realized.

The first man was a stranger, but there was something familiar about the second man. The shape of his face rang a bell in his mind, yet certain other features failed to match up.

Then, the man lifted a hand and tapped a point on the screen, and another hand came up to nudge the other man’s arm, and the absence of a finger on that hand abruptly alerted him.

“Jack? What?”

The man’s eyes met his for only a second, and then they returned to the monitor. This man was blue-eyed and wore his hair short and dark, but it was definitely him.

“You ought to call Lawrence by his real name, now, Mikail,” the older man said dryly.

“101 bpm,” Jack spoke in a monotone voice that was almost as out-of-character as the rest of him.

“He should be fine.” The man gave Mick a look-over. “I must say, he is a perfect candidate. You can practically smell the rot on him. Good job, Son.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Mick yanked on the restraints. “Where the fuck am I, asshole!?”

Jack reached off to the side, and Mick growled in frustration.

“You need to—I’m really fucking claustrophobic, man! And it’s because of shit like this! Please, just tell me where the fuck I am!”

“The farm,” the man answered vaguely.

“The fucking what?!” Mick yanked on his wrist-cuffs, sending a jolt of pain up his injured arm.

“Oh god!” he croaked. “Fuck!”

Jack turned back towards him, loudly peeling a strip off of a roll of duct-tape. The man furrowed his brow at him.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Ah.” The man nodded, and Jack bit off a section of the tape with teeth that were no longer yellowed.

“What are you doing?!” Mick shouted. “Fuck off! Keep that the fuck away from me!”

Jack gripped Mick’s head forcefully, pinning it down with one hand. Mick screamed and struggled, but couldn’t stop Jack from adhering a long piece of tape over his mouth and around his jaw. Then, a second piece over-top of it, muffling his screams of fear and frustration.

He watched with wide eyes as the pair eyed the monitor again, then exchanged a glance before Jack turned away again, turning back, with something shimmering in his hands, which he passed to the other man.

“Thank you, Lawrence.”

Mick focused on the object in the man’s hand as he brought it into the light.

A scalpel. Mick gasped and shouted uselessly into the tape over his mouth.

Jack reached over Mick, lifting the bottom of his shirt to expose his stomach. His heavy bruising from the falling debris of the shopping center shone in the fluorescent light. Mick squirmed, trying to turn himself away from them. But the best he could do was suck in his stomach when the man gently pressed a latex-gloved hand into his implant scar.

“No post-traumatic relocation of the implant that I can see.”

‘Don’t touch me’ he was desperate to scream. But all he could manage was a muffled garble of sound.

Jack disappeared for another moment, returning with a bottle that he tilted into a ragged cloth, soaking it so thoroughly that it dripped audibly onto the floor below.

“Can you be a bit more fucking careful, O’Sullivan?” the man grunted.

“I’m sorry,” Jack answered, his voice still completely devoid of emotion, as he sloppily ran the cloth over Mick’s stomach, coating it with an icy-cold solution that immediately burned his nostrils.

“140 bpm,” Jack announced, putting the cap back on the bottle and disappearing from view once again.

“Alright. Let’s get this done so I can go home and get my dinner.”

The man’s hand pressed into Mick’s stomach, and he fought and struggled with all the energy in his broken and bruised body, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. But he couldn’t stop a thing.

The scalpel glimmered in the light and then disappeared behind the man’s hand.

To say that the pain that followed was unlike anything he’d ever experienced would be an understatement. This pain was tearing and brutalizing, and easily a thousand times stronger than anything he could have imagined. It forced his head back hard against the table and left him with no ability to even struggle, no ability to do anything but scream.

He could feel every single sensation as the blade severed his skin just above his hipbone, and the man’s fingers prodded inside the opened wound. His limbs jerked and fought involuntarily, and he just kept screaming, long after he had oxygen in his lungs.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice spoke, but he was beyond the ability to differentiate who. “Why do they always piss themselves?”

“Cauterizer.”

“He’ll pass out any second, Blythe.”

“Let him.”

“Wasn’t thinking to stop him, Blythe.”

Mick whimpered out the last of the air in his throat, and when he sucked in his next breath, his head started to spin, tilt and drop. He strained to regain his vision, but his eyes were too filled with tears and he was far too dizzy to make out a thing.

‘Help!’ he cried out in his head, though he barely made a sound beyond a quiet whine. ‘Oh god, help me.’

“Got’cha!” a voice announced, and blackness swallowed Mick’s consciousness up.

[plotbunnyshipper]

The 2030 That Didn’t Happen

So back when I saw Legends of Tomorrow 1x06 I wrote this up and never got around to editing it until now. The one line, “Felicity left after everything that happened.” wouldn't quit playing in my head, so this is just a brief exploration of what could have been, because before the 2030 the Legends visited was erased from the timeline it was real.

The Uprising, as it is called online, because the local media was taken over in the first few hours, was chaos and destruction.

Mom was visiting, so we and the Diggles escorted them – our mixed handful of kids, my mom, the nanny, out of the city with enough cash for any situation that might come up, and direct them to the hidden cabin that will be a safe haven until we can get back to them. John Jr, a strong lanky teenager, has to be physically forced out by John and Oliver. Our goodbyes, short as they are, carry a gravity in the words just in case they are the last ones we get.

Any person in our slightly expanded team and families who aren’t fighting, or has a ‘free’ half hour, helps move as much of my equipment to the sub-levels of the bunker, and as many of my special projects down to a warehouse, reinforced, and more importantly not associated with us in any way. It was about the safest place from looters that are going building by building.

While that is happening, Slade’s son…he takes my husband’s arm.

It doesn’t matter that we have a brilliant surgeon on our team who was right there with him, and part of the few who got him out of there, working to keep him alive, functional. That someone was there cauterizing to his directions so Oliver wouldn’t bleed out as they rushed him back. It doesn’t matter that our work with mechanics, robotics, prosthetics, neural netting is the definition of cutting edge. It doesn’t matter that the few of us can cobble together something useable in that one night by picking apart existing tech and inventing or building the rest on the way.

If I ever get a chance that boy will be dead by my hand before he lays another finger on Oliver.

Oliver is still pale, recovering, the mesh is taking and the prosthetic appears to function nearly as flawlessly as his former arm, but still he pushes, doesn’t give himself a single day. He goes back to where Grant Wilson left the arm, a grotesque symbol of his takeover, displayed and retrieves it.

I go hysterical at him, demanding answers, reasons, of all the stupid ideas. “Why would go back for a useless piece of dead flesh and bone?”

“It was a symbol, and that symbol is gone…Besides I needed something from it.” He tugs a chain out from under his shirt, the mangled burnt remains of his wedding ring hangs from it just low enough to rest against his heart.

I don’t slow my tirade. How dare he risk his life for either of those symbols, an arm, a ring, who the fuck cares!

Apparently we both fucking care, because taking our argument private ends up resulting with a rushed couple impassioned minutes in the supply closet. At least that finishes off my hostility towards him, and eases just a bit of the tightness that stress paints across him as we reassure each other of how very alive we are. He doesn’t apologize and neither do I, but we’re too busy to focus on that.

After the initial strikes, at the start of day three, we called, begged, and bought as much help as we could get, though we are still spread too thin. Every favor, any idea, we called them in, put them into motion within hours. But it was coordinated, the main attack was on our Star City, the free-for-all of violence was hitting every population center on both coasts. As far as the citizens…well other than a relatively small number, those that wanted to help or steal or flat out couldn’t, they all fled.

Their flight to perceived safety clogging up every driving, sailing, and running exit after word that the airport and train station were destroyed. Everyone wanted to evacuate, escape, part of me says not to blame them, it’s natural, but we needed them, needed our own army, anyone, everyone, and they failed us. After everything we’d done for them over all these years, they failed us.

As our coworkers, friends, and families were decimated with every passing day, shock and anger turned to desperation, then to horror.

Thea was the first, there was an explosion…we spent all night and tore through half City Hall’s worth of debris in the hopes that she might have survived, might have…

Her body was under a steel beam, red marks where she had tried to get it off, tried to slip out. Those marks stole even the slight reassurance of speed, the damage to her hands showed it must have taken hours. She was probably still conscious when we started our hunt, though it wouldn’t have been long after that she-, she…

We moved her body back to the spare base.

The days that follow then eats away at our team… We move like zombies half the time, autopilot, barely eating, rarely falling into the exhausted sleep that at most lasts a handful of restless hours.

We relocate to a hidden set of rooms at my already looted company, before they ransack what levels of the bunker they can attack. Oliver was outed as the Green Arrow just before, literally seconds before he lost his arm, so we have to keep moving.

Hooking into a satellite so we can keep working the only thing that greets us is a clip going viral online even with all the other horrors happening. The shaky footage of John in full Spartan garb and Lyla equipped with as many weapons and as much body armor as we and ARGUS could fit on her, fighting off two gangs of heavily armed people, trying to give the hospital those precious minutes to evacuate those last few that were too dangerous to move before all hope seemed lost. We would find out later this was probably a capture from two hours in that battle, and their exhaustion was obvious. All it took was one large caliber round from whatever the hell that weapon was to punch straight through them both. They were gone before their bodies hit the ground.

We both watched in shock, falling to grief for minutes we didn’t have to waste. The remaining members of the team was scattered, and the communication lines had long ago failed or were jammed. Oliver dons black, taking a page from his days in the League and using the shadows and violence.

Weeks pass, things die down, but only because there are so few left to fight.

As Oliver beat his anger out on a band that tried to loot the sublevels of the bunker I scavenged more armor and tech, finishing cobbling together my work with a thin, sprayed on, film of intumescent coating the company had been working on, because fuck you fire. A quick blast dry and I’m suiting up for the remainder of what might be coming. I even have on the mask I swore to myself never to wear.

Oliver storms back in, the tech that makes up his arm fritzing and damaged. “Let me look at- Don’t hit it- Oliver stop hitting it! That won’t help it work and will make it harder to repair!” He doesn’t stop, just keeps moving to the spot where the second prototype is encased. The bloody, still twitching, prosthetic limb is disconnected and dropped to the floor on his way. “These aren’t exactly easy to replace-“ I growl over the faint whir and click of the new one, still gleaming without the 3d printed synthetic skin covering it, activating. I’m just starting to pull off the leather gloves I had worked on for my creation to replace them with latex ones when he turns, takes one look and roars, ROARS, “NO!” at me.

I flinch at the loudness of it, even as my mouth drops open. I can count the number of times he’s raised his voice at me on his remaining fingers, most to warn me of the kids, but in anger? Even if it’s grief fueled? I can’t remember more than once in all these years, and it was nothing like that sound.

“YOU ARE NOT-” He cuts himself short to pick me up and carry me, fighting and protesting every step, to the emergency escape that leads to the helicopter. “You think for one second that I’m going to let you put yourself in-“

I twist enough that he has to put me down before I activate the emergency release on his arm, “Let me? I love you, but you do not get to make that decision for me. It’s my city, my home too! Quite frankly I could use the Kevlar, especially after what happened to…” My heart clenches. Everyone. “You’re not the only one soaked in their blood, not the only one who needs to help.”

“Go. Get the kids, Raisa, and your mom. Take them somewhere safe.”

“Safe? Please tell me where you think that is. Those kids will be grieving the loss of their aunt, John Jr the loss of his parents, they will need both of us.” I touch the ring hidden under his shirt. “We need to finish the evacuations and-“

“I’m not leaving.”

“You did your best, we all did, we held this city together through blood, sweat, tears, and immeasurable sacrifice. Your leadership didn’t matter, my company didn’t matter, our daily and nightly fights to keep it afloat didn’t matter. Grant Wilson might as well have brought a nuke-“

“GO!” He bellows it out. So full of fear and rage, so unlike him that I have to fight not to show the terror that sound hammers through me.

“If you stay I stay.”

“You would orphan our children?”

“Don’t you dare! Our children are not your only ones, if anyone should leave to be with them it’s you!”

“Felicity you will be leaving this city if I have to drug you, strap you in, and ship you out on autopilot in that damn helicopter.”

“Oliver!” He doesn’t say another word, just hoists me over his good shoulder and takes the steps two at a time. “Don’t do this! We are a team! Oliver stop!” I can feel the tears falling and can’t stop them any easier than I can stop him. “You promised me- You swore at our wedding! Don’t do this! I will never forgive you for this!”

He flings open the door and shoves me in the seat. Voice low, tight, full of everything that I’m feeling too. “Then don’t forgive me, but you are going.” I fight to get free, trying to crawl over him, turning the helicopter off just as fast as he turns it on. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You’re already hurting me!”I hit at the arm until I get it just right and the hunk of metal and plastic drops to the ground, somehow he can still keep me in here with just the one arm.

“I’d rather have you hate me if you’ll be living to hate me.” He pulls out the small device and I shake my head, gasping his name in disbelief. But it doesn’t change anything, he presses it to my lower back and my legs go numb.

That was designed for if anyone hacked into the circuitry and used my own body against me, again, five minutes to take control before it rebooted itself, if the idea that he’d use it to force me to go had ever occurred to me …I do hate him, right now I hate him more than I can say. My eyes aching from the crying I can’t seem to stop. “I hate that I trusted you to keep your vows. I hate that you always think you’re right. And right now I do hate you Oliver!” He starts pressing things at the controls as I struggle to sit up. “Come with me and we’ll figure this out, together. Stay here and we are through. You send me away now and I will never come back to you!” He doesn’t say a word, just presses the autopilot activation and starts to close the door. A yank, forces them over my knuckle and I hold my rings up between my fingers. “Then put these on your chain because I don’t want them.” I drop them, their clang drowned out by the blades spinning into a takeoff speed. As I am carried away I see him pick up the rings, then the false arm, staring at me, face an emotionless mask.

}]}———}>

The tracker in his ring was destroyed, when reports of his death make the news in the next few days I can’t use it, but the ones in mine are still functional. I debate what to tell our children. William is grown enough to tell the truth and he and I agree on the ‘damned stupid unforgivableness-ness-ness of the suicidal shit’ Oliver pulled in a low late night when the emptying bottle makes me forget to censor myself. I know he’s an adult now, but I’ll always see him as that scared grieving child who just needed to be held between us even though my belly was swollen with his first sibling. He calls me Felicity to my face, but refers to me as ‘Mom’ or ‘my mom’ when he isn’t thinking about what he says. Our other kids, they’re too young to understand that Daddy’s still alive but refuses to leave the city that is all but destroyed, refuses, because there has to be a way to reach out, to contact them…I know if he did there’s no way he would stay away and he must know the same.

I still love him. I still hate him. I’m declared a widow in the eyes of the state and I don’t correct them. Life goes on, the kids grow – taking after me with their brilliant brains, taking after him with their breathtaking risks, taking after both of us trying to make the world a better place.

}]}———}>

A decade and a half after the Uprising I get a call in the middle of the night, no words, just silence as I groggily ask who it is. When it doesn’t disconnect I whisper his name.

He sounds so similar, weary and older, yes, but it’s still him. “I- I lied…Convinced myself…I told them you left…”