#who these days is doing a far better job of hiding his murderous desires

[mariana-oconnor]

The Copper Beeches pt 3

I hope you are anxious to hear the conclusion of the case of ‘The Copper Beeches’.

Yes. Yes I am. Because while it's now pretty certain that the Rucastles are not part of a sex-trafficking ring, they're still really fucking creepy and now I also have to worry about the poor dog who is also being abused.

Family of serial killers, I swear.

"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?" "Yes, the wine-cellar."

...

😈😈😈😈

"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman."

Leeeeeeettle bit condescending there, Holmes. Although I feel like I am just more sensitive to that because modern perspective and experience. However, I do think think this section needs noting, if only because of all the people who are determined that Irene Adler is the only woman Holmes ever saw worthy of a compliment. Nothing against Irene, she's great, but Violet Hunter deserves better. She's been doing all the legwork herself this case, and she's made a pretty decent detective.

"If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely."

...

heh

heheheh

...

"Of course there is only one feasible explanation."

I still want to know what the other six possibilities were, Holmes. I want to know.

"Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also."

Miss Alice Rucastle is having the worst year. First she's sick so badly she has to cut her hair off. Then her father imprisons her in her own home. And on top of all of that her stepbrother is a serial killer in training. Worst. Year. Ever.

"The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

Really? That's the most serious point? Like, I agree it's not good. He's clearly showing signs of anti-social behaviour, aggression, and a worrying taste of having the power of life and death over other living beings, but I'm not sure I'd say that was the most urgent thing right now. I think getting Alice out is the most important thing. You can get him some serious therapy later.

"This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power."

Ah, okay, you're saying that it's serious because it indicates the level of danger involved. Sure, yeah, okay.

Can't disagree on this point. It's certainly not a good sign.

ALSO, one other thing that has been bugging me since part 2. Does the kid know where his half-sister is? Is he aware she's locked up? He can't be, right? Because there's no way he wouldn't have let something slip. But at the same time, he's just unaware of a whole ass person being imprisoned in his home? It's weird. He's weird.

Dear Little Edward the murderer in training is either oblivious or very good at keeping creepy secrets.

I'm not sure about the stepmother. On the one hand, the crying and the quiet indicate that she's also being abused. But on the other hand she was the one to catch Violet with the mirror and then use it to further the scheme. Although she didn't say 'she has a mirror', which would have made Mr Rucastle angry. That whole bit is weird. Was she trying to stop Violet from getting into more trouble, was she trying to save their scheme? I don't know. But then, if she's living with Rucastle and her darling son all day every day, she's probably been ground down pretty far.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug."

Suddenly there came a clanging As of someone wildly banging, banging at the cellar door.

And Mr Toller didn't even make it to bed? He's just passed out on the kitchen floor? He's lucky there's a rug in there and it's not just flagstones.

Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes's face clouded over.

Not a particularly good sign...

"Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty.

Breaking down doors! Love a bit of action with my mystery.

"Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it." "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away." "He has come back and done it."

But why would he climb up a ladder when he could just open the door?

I mean we know of the existence of at least one other person who would want Alice Rucastle out of that house and who wouldn't have a key to her room.

I'm just saying, Holmes.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter. "I have my revolver," said I.

Oh no... poor doggo.

Please don't kill the dog, Watson. Please.

We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Two days?! Two fucking days? Seriously.

But it kind of sounds like the doggo is getting revenge. Good boy. Good boy! You eat the bad man.

There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck.

Holy fuck this action escalated quickly. That is graphic and also... poor dog. I mean... I doubt it could have been rehabilitated at this point, but still. Poor thing never had a chance.

I do not remember this story being this brutal. Holy shit that guy's throat was ripped out.

Can't say I'm sorry. Glad the dog got its revenge before it died.

"Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."

I mean, you didn't exactly give her reason to trust you? Why on earth would she? This is the most ridiculous 'you should have talked to me' ever.

"If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too."

I mean, were you? Were you? Alice's friend, sure. But were you Violet's friend in all this?

"He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money."

It's Mary Sutherland all over again, just with more violence. Hey, Holmes. Holmes! You remember how you sent Mary Sutherland back into that life and didn't warn her about it? Huh? You remember that? Maybe thinking that wasn't such a good idea now? Huh? Are you?

I've had it with these men and their refusal to let their daughters have their own goddamn money.

"When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door."

I know this is like a common Victorian cause of illness and all that, but I'd be real suspicious about that brain fever, because it feels like poison is a real possibility rn.

"...that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be."

Good for him. Basic minimum achieved. I mean, also he's been trying to get her out of this house, so he's also gone above and beyond. I'm glad he and Alice got away in the end.

"But Mr Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his." "Mr Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs Toller serenely.

Oh, she did it for the money. Not such a good samaritan. But then if she were, she would have just smuggled the girl out.

Mr Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them.

I will admit I am sad the guy survived that. I'm not sure how he survived it. He had a mastiff's teeth 'buried in his throat'. He's insanely lucky his carotid wasn't torn open. But I suspect he doesn't do a lot of laughing anymore. So sad.

You couldn't have waited a little longer before shooting the poor dog, Watson? Let it get its revenge?

Also, that household sounds utterly terrible to live in still. Just a lot of horrible people being horrible to each other because they literally can't get away. And what about the child? What about dear little Edward? Is he still in there with them? I can't imagine that this made him less of a serial killer.

And the man doesn't get arrested for imprisoning his daughter?

Justice has not been served this day.

And that kid is going to grow up and kill a lot of people. I'm just saying. This isn't so much an ending as a 'to be continued'.

As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

Good for her.

Also, Watson, leave Holmes alone. He doesn't need a wife. He's fine. It is amusing to see that commentary, though. Like... there were 0 vibes of Holmes being into her. He complimented her a couple of times and was concerned for her safety. But he kept comparing her to a sister and there was no hint of romance in the whole thing. Watson is a bit delusional sometimes.

[remakethestars]

Being Batman’s Daughter Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Listen, Robin. At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely.❞

— Bruce Wayne, “The Lesson Plan”

TRIGGER WARNING: Plant murder. Mentions of drugs/tranqs (stopping dealers), violence/physical harm, broken bones (knee cap), limb dislocation (shoulder), (Jason’s) death, smoke, waterboarding/drowning?

Headcanon masterlist.

You know how every teenager has that paradigm shift because as much as they love the people around them, they’ll never know the inner workings of your psyche? And they realize they’ll never truly be known? And it makes them feel really lonely?

Yeah, you never come to feel like that because you know Bruce digs so far into everyone around him he probably knows you better than you do.

Honestly, he probably reads your diary. At least, he reads the fake one you hide under your mattress. And the second decoy in the A.C. vent above your dresser.

If you’re as paranoid as Bruce, you probably don’t have a diary, and the aforementioned “decoys” are just to mess with him.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was practically your Bible growing up.

You’re torn between giving yourself the tactical advantage of being underestimated & being non-reactive, which — besides giving you the lioness role in the lion–gazelle dynamic — gives you the advantage of having time to think carefully on the repercussions before speaking.

Because, as Sun Tzu said in chapter seven, verse twenty-one, “Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.”

Seeing as Bruce and Damian both have eidetic memories, I’m guessing you do too. 

Which means you totally read the dictionary when you were young and whip our big words nobody’s heard of.

Bruce always assured you it’s okay to be scared. As a matter of fact, like he told Dick (seen in flashbacks in “The Lesson Plan”), he taught you to “Let terror embrace you. The better you know fear, the better you can use it against others.”

And we all know Bruce is the paragon of using fear against people.

Take that, Scarecrow!

(See, I chose that gif because earlier in that move, he displays a fear of bats, & in that scene, he summons them to use as a distraction and walks through them completely unperturbed. No? Okay, I’ll see myself out.)

You started into the vigilante business young, a little bulge under the back of Batman’s cape that made the rest of the Justice League in the meeting think Bruce was host to an alien parasite until your little mask-covered eyes poked up over his shoulder.

The League’s known you since you were young, so they kind of all see you as their niece. That just quadruples the amount of people who are overprotective of you.

Eventually, in your tweens, you think enough’s enough and start out on your own — being underestimated may be an advantage, but it’s getting ridiculous — and you tackle unsolved cases.

You set up various safe houses around the world for your own disposal (using the zeta tubes) and anyone who sees the inside of one in an emergency is always surprised. You don’t really understand why; what serious vigilante doesn’t have secure, state-of-the-art safe locations scattered across the planet?

Sometimes, it gets you into danger, but you always get yourself out of it. If there ever comes a time you can’t, well, you’ve got a direct link to Batman, and if communications fail, you can always yell for your Uncle Clark at the top of your lungs.

If the latter ever comes to fruition, you ask Bruce if he’s disappointed you had to call for back-up or that you called Superman instead of Batman, and he says, “It takes a strong person to admit when they’re weak, [Y/N]; if anything, I’m proud of you. Besides … you’re not the only one who yells for Uncle Clark when they get in over their head.”

Your training entailed hacking and mechanics, so you like to fix computers and sell them on the internet Hugh Jeffreys style. It started out with Macs from the dumpster behind Gotham Academy and turned into a surprising side hustle. Large portions of your profits go into either savings or funding your extracurricular activities. 

You’re using a MacBook that’s running Linux and an iPhone 4 that’s running your own program. 

At some point, your phone falls into the wrong hands, and someone asks why it has such high security. You deadpan and say, “I have three older brothers.” No further explanation required.

One such solo case led you to a ring of drug dealers working in a small town outside of Gotham. You made some tranquillizers and heavy-duty smoke bombs and busted out your shinobi-iri training.

After sliding on a mask covering the bottom half of your face that filtered out smoke, you set all of the bombs off at once in the ventilation system, filling the building and using the infrared in your domino mask to sedate everyone before the cops arrived so no one got hurt (because there would inevitably be a firefight if the cops got involved).

You never go into a situation expecting to go hand-to-hand with someone; you always have a plan to take our your targets quickly an efficiently.

One night, when you’re working on a cold case in Gotham, you stumble across some intel that Poison Ivy’s been stockpiling chemicals and is going to wipe out all human life on Earth.

Luckily for you, Bruce’s paranoia is hereditary; you just happen to carry some white kryptonite in your belt, so you won’t have to go all the way back to the cave to obtain some.

You type out a quick debrief on your wrist computer in case you end up needing to send out an S.O.S., pop on your bottom mask to filter out spores or pheromones she might send in your direction, and bust out your shinobi-iri training again.

Of course, you try the peaceful approach, explaining to Ivy that you agree with her on the tree-hugger front to build rapport (T.B.F., who doesn’t?), but it comes to physical confrontation. You kill every vine that comes your way with a quick punch from your kryptonite ring, toss an expanding polyurethane foam bomb (see Batgirl #38) at her feet, and manage to get an inhibitor collar on her.

Gordon takes her away, and by the next morning, it’s on the news.

“You took down Ivy by yourself?” Bruce asks when you come down for breakfast.

“… Yeah,” you say after a moment, expecting a tongue-lashing.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. She didn’t get a hit in. And before you ask, I had a contingency set up in case things went sideways.”

“… Good job.”

Your dad has the article framed in the batcave, which is the bat-equivalent of having your drawing on the fridge or getting a sticker back on a test.

You’re fighting a grin for the rest of the day.

It bugs you you can’t tell anyone why you’re so happy, so you visit Dick in Blüdhaven while he’s on patrol and give him a play-by-play. You even get a hair-ruffle!

Deathstroke targets you at some point. One of Batman and Nightwing’s worst villains, and he targets you because he knows they love you. You’re the smallest bat at the time, the weakest; he thinks you’ll be the easiest to take.

Boy, was he wrong.

He was trained by the League of Assassins, so you know dropping a smoke bomb’s not going to give you cover (and his mask probably has infrared). His brain processes faster than yours, so tricking him is improbable. He’s probably done enough research on you to know you favor foam bombs and has fast enough reflexes to dodge before they go off.

And he’s jammed your comms so you can’t call for backup. You’re worried he’s got kryptonite on him and will hurt Superman if you call for help.

It’s just you and him.

He has enhanced stamina, so he tries to wear you out. You maintain distance to avoid taking damage and wearing faster.

You always admired Tim for his ability to plan ahead (see, like, the entirety of the Red Robin comics). He doesn’t know how he does it; he just does. He can’t really teach you, so you just watch and learn.

You realize your fight with Slade is just a matter of managing the distance and immobilizing him, so you strike. You duck behind a pillar or grab onto a railing or something and shoot him through the thigh with your grappling gun, reeling him in. He, of course, draws his sword or a knife to cut the line, but you’re already throwing high-density expanding polyurethane bombs.

And, just like that, you’ve single-handedly taken Deathstroke.

It sends a clear message to the rest of the Gotham villains, Blüdhaven’s villains, the League of Assassins — don’t mess with the bat’s little girl. She can hold her own.

Now it’s time for you to come up with another plan to take him down; you doubt the same method will work twice, and you’ve just made a very powerful enemy.

As Wonder Woman’s said, “Do not mistake a desire to avoid violence for an inability to deal with it.” You might go into most situations with a plan to take down your opponent already in motion, but when it comes to an all-out brawl, you’re perfectly capable and don’t pull your punches.

You’re working on an unsolved case in Blüdhaven (Dick’s got enough on his plate) when you get an S.O.S. from the aforementioned along with the feed and recording from his mask. You listen to the mission briefing while you ride back to the cave and then the audio from the Young Justice mission. They got jumped by the League of Shadows in an abandoned factory, and Talia’s trying to coerce Damian into joining the League or whatever.

The usual dropping some smoke bombs and tranqing everyone isn’t going to work on thirty armed League assassins who were trained to fight blind, so you load up on polyurethane foam bombs and call Jason and Cassandra.

The three of you take out the guards outside before splitting up and taking either end of the building (Cass stays with you). You meet in the middle, in the room the team’s being held in.

You highjacked the speakers, so they’re blasting AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” upon Jason’s insistence. You wanted Zayde Wølf or Alice Cooper’s “Hey, Stoopid,” but big brothers will be big brothers.

Jason pops them with rubber bullets from above to slow them down for you while Cass demolishes them and you drop foam bombs, slinging your signature custom shuriken, bonk them over the head with Tim’s staff you picked up along the way, dislocate their arms, or shatter their kneecaps. 

You and Jason get a couple slices from swords that got a little too close, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve had before. 

When the fighting’s done and the building’s quiet, the team’s, like, “Who the heck are you guys?” 

And Dick’s, like, 😏 “They’re our siblings.” 

Speaking of siblings, you’re older than Damian, and as such, you take upon yourself the honor of teaching him all things pop-culture.

“I have a lot of amazing older siblings. I want to be a good big sister.”

First things first, you give him one of your refurbished e-waste phones and take him to Target to pick out an OtterBox or a LifeProof case or something that’ll keep it safe in the pocket of a vigilante.

Vigilantes are always coming to you when their phone’s broken anyway; you’ve got a stack of spares you’ve repaired.

Then you help him set up a Spotify account (follow me at @remakethestars 😉) and try to help him find his rhythm.

Poor child’s never had Oreos before, so you drag a pack of Double Stuffs out of the cabinet and a glass of milk and show him the best milk-dunking method you know.

You think about handing him a cookie and telling him to waterboard it until the bubbles stop coming up, but cookie-dunking is something every kid does; it’s sacred, and you don’t want him to associate it with violence.

You show him how you and Alfred feed the bats in the batcave.

And you show him Vine compilations and your favorite shows and movies and as many classics as you can, and you put up with him pointing out the inaccuracies and calling them stupid.

Every time he doesn’t get a reference, you write it down so you know what to show him later.

If anything ever happens to you, Damian finds your list and makes it his personal mission to watch/read everything on it. It makes him feel close to you.

You build a relationship with him that’s similar to his and Dick’s, and he comes to you with things he might not be able to come to anyone else with.

Plus, since you live in the manor still and he doesn’t want Bruce to think less of him, it’s you he comes to after a nightmare.

If you know Alfred has pictures of him curled up in your side, you ask him to send them to you. Not for blackmail purposes; just to have.

You’d never use the need of comfort or the sharing of emotions against him because (A) it’s perpetuating toxic masculinity and (B) you don’t want him to think it’s wrong or confirm any of the stupid “strength” things the League of Shadows taught him.

You gave him a stuffed cat that looks like Alfred (the cat, not the butler) with some of your perfume spritzed on it. He verbalized his revulsion when you gave it to him, but on nights he has a bad dream and you’re not home, it brings him comfort.

Titus comes to get you when Damian’s upset. 

Even when he’s not with Damian, he seems to know. Pets are like that.

You’ve learned to trust Titus’s instincts. Damian thinks it’s suspicious when he’s feeling down and you just happen to call.

You never realized it until a long time later, but Ace was acting weird the day Jason came back from the dead.

And he was acting weird the day Jason came back to Gotham too. He ran to the door and began barking. Alfred swept security, but nothing seemed to be off. The whole family was on edge that day.

You were the reason Jason knew he wasn’t completely forgotten; he spotted you through a café window, and you were wearing his jacket.

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

���Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[hannigramficrecs]

Hey, do you have any "long" (30k up only) hannigram fics, with hannibal's pov (preference, but not absolutely necessary) of AUs, like the best long fic AUs you can think of, like time-travel, different meetings, abo, etc.

No vampire, mermaids or werewolves au tho.

If you can, of course. Thank you alredy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

I’m not sure if these are all Hannibal’s POV, but here are a list of all my favorite long AU’s (sorry if I included too many LOL). Also if anyone’s interested here are links to the mermaid and werewolf fics

Palace of Dreams by MaiTai1327 [words: 41,986]

A lonely boy at a Lithuanian orphanage creates a memory palace for him to hide away from his despicable circumstances and the nightmares haunting him. In his dreams, his palace becomes reality. And one day, he finds another boy hiding in one of its rooms.

Our Stars are the Same by beforethedawn, ConstructFairytales, Destinyawakened [words: 42,578]

Someone’s moved into the old creepy, supposedly haunted, mansion down the way from Will Graham and his family. Will never expects to befriend the new family’s son.

Vena Amoris by PaperPlaneChemTrails [words: 55,596]

Will Graham is a producer on a Bachelor knock off reality TV show. Against his protests and better judgement, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is cast as the primary love interest on the show. Despite his many initial misgivings, Hannibal is a hit, and Will finds himself as drawn into the story Hannibal is creating as everyone watching at home. Everything is going well until Will becomes suspicious that he is the real object of Hannibal’s affections, and all of a sudden contestants start to turn up murdered.

Little Arts of Vice by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite [words: 44,991]

Cruel Intentions AU. “Tedium draws me to observation,” he murmurs. “Contemplation.” “Manipulation,” Mischa adds calmly, tilts her head when Hannibal narrows his eyes at her. “You wouldn’t deny it, Hannibal, you’re proud of that one. And in truth you do it well.” “There is little to manipulate when watching a dog chase a bird.” It starts with a bet.

A Past of Plank and Nail by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone) [words: 87,821]

Hannibal needs a kitchen remodel, and his colleague and friend Alana knows just the guy to help him with his rundown new home. Enter Will Graham, carpenter and contractor extraordinaire, and devastating addition to Hannibal’s daily life. When he starts running out of new projects to keep Will around, Hannibal fast realizes his infatuation is more than simple attraction - and that getting Will to agree to dinner is only the first hurdle.

Redemption by houseofcannibals [words: 132,427]

After very publicly losing his mind and murdering three young women in an unconscious state, FBI consultant Will Graham is sentenced to serve three consecutive life sentences in the notorious Shawshank State Prison. Upon arrival, he is unsettled to find himself in a cell neighboring that of infamous serial killer Dr Hannibal Lecter.

Carnivore, Won’t You Come Digest Me? by HigherMagic [words: 64,019]

Role Reversal AU: Following the execution of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Hannibal is forced to see Doctor Will Graham for a psychiatric evaluation before he can return to the field. Once cleared, Jack insists that Will shadow Hannibal in the hopes of catching the Shrike’s copycat. Hannibal has become a master of making sure the FBI stays blind to his extracurricular activities, but Will is a man who sees far too much, and won’t be so easily overcome.

Page Six by ThisBeautifulDrowning [words: 66,839]

Crime reporter Will Graham’s column on page six of the Baltimore Sun garners him the attention of many: fans, hobby detectives, the FBI…and others. Hannibal cut off a piece of meat with surgical precision. “I find your company rather engaging.” “Maybe I don’t find you all that engaging.” Silence. Hannibal grinned. “I see that it will take more than one dinner to earn your forgiveness. Challenge accepted.”

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems [words: 72,455]

AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.

Rescues by drinkbloodlikewine and whiskeyandspite [words: 99,552]

Mischa is living with PTSD, and Hannibal seeks out a service animal to help her. He meets Will, trainer of therapy dogs - cue puppies, adorable interactions and lots of dogs. And smut. Of course.

Where the Albatross Crash-Lands by HigherMagic [words: 40,220]

Everyone has two marks on their arm: one is the name of their soulmate, the other is the name of their mortal enemy. There’s no way of knowing which is which. This same trick of fate makes it so that your Marks are the only two voices you will ever hear when you go deaf at sixteen. Hannibal has a nice voice. Will hopes he’s his mate. He hopes he never hears the voice of the Chesapeake Ripper.

Provenance by drinkbloodlikewine, whiskeyandspite [words: 62,735]

A delightful AU about a rare book dealer, an owner of a high-end coffee shop, and murder. This does involve Hannibal Lecter, after all.

A Fortunate Wound by starkaryen [words: 83,312]

Will Graham, a police officer in Baltimore, is shot while he’s on duty. The surgeon on call in the ER is Hannibal Lecter.

Until I Met You by Dormchi [words: 33,990]

Detective Will Graham needs an expert and Fire Lieutenant Hannibal Lecter happens to be available. Basically this is just arson, murder, coffee, and fluff.

Canvases by thatviciousvixen [words: 36,660]

When Hannibal meets a handsome artist with a keen interest in death he knows he’s finally met a kindred spirit. All Will needs is a little push.

In Sickness and in Health by BonesAndScales [words: 67,450]

Everyone knows that Will and Hannibal are married. Not everyone knows that they are married to each other.

The Escapists by whiskeyandspite [words: 35,368]

Will’s cellmate said nothing, and Will didn’t venture. He had been prickly enough as a lecturer, where human interaction was mandatory, and prison was not the sort of place one made friends. One either made allies or enemies, or stayed quiet enough to avoid both. Will doubted he’d be that lucky; far too easy to rile up especially when stupidity was the catalyst. Prison, Will thought absently, was similar to college.

Sweeter Bitter by wormsin [words: 89,503]

Will is an awkward student and Hannibal an intrigued mentor.

Before You And After You by ache_for_him, Breakmybones (CarterReid), CarterReid [words: 33,734]

Hannibal and Will had a past: a dirty, bloody, violent past. Will was sure he’d never see his own personal monster again - then he walked into Jack Crawford’s office.

Ethics & Aesthetics by fragile-teacup [words: 106,330]

Pride and Prejudice omegaverse AU

Look, Mother! The Sheep Have Devoured the Wolves! by HigherMagic [words: 102,934]

Hannibal and Bedelia are married, but unable to have children. At Margot’s insistence, Hannibal agrees to meet the Omega that was a surrogate for her and Alana. Will is rough-edged, unrefined, and everything Hannibal shouldn’t desire. This arrangement promises to be clean, and simple. Of course, nothing concerning Will Graham is ever simple.

Wings of Wax and Feather by BelladonnaWyck and raiast [words: 55,947]

“Did you just smell me?” "Difficult to avoid. My apologies, I didn’t realize there were any Omegas in this section of the prison.” “Most get sent to the Omega Holding Facility two counties over. But then, most don’t get done in for rippin’ out an Alpha’s throat in the middle of the street.” or Hannibal Lecter had always known the winding road of fate may one day lead him straight to a prison cell. He’d never imagined he’d find his true mate there.

Truly, Madly, Deeply by slashyrogue [words: 52,811]

They meet by chance at a Christmas Party and share a kiss that seals their fate.

Purity by PixieDust291 [words: 130,528]

Will is cast aside by his alpha and sacrificed to the Wendigo that hunts in the forest. However, after confronting the creature Will then finds himself in the home of Hannibal. The alpha lives alone and seems to have taken it upon himself to nurture Will back to health. Over time Will grows comfortable with Hannibal and slowly reveals the reasons for his abandonment. Hannibal, being a pure bred alpha of the highest caliber, is well aware of just how rare and valuable Will is and decides to take the wounded omega for himself.

Quatervois by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite [words: 33,226]

Will is an Omega who desires independence and freedom. Hannibal is an Alpha who finds his mind curious. They make a deal: if Will can convince Hannibal that he is worth more than breeding stock, and can go through his heat without begging for his Alpha, Hannibal will not mate him, but make him a ward instead; Will could go to college, get a job, do anything he wanted. If not, then he will be Hannibal’s mate, bear pups, and accept his role. But is it really as simple as that?

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio Soulmate Strings AU HCs

Chrollo

No one had told him what the string meant, what was on the other side waiting for him. Children in Meteor City knew how to fight and how to live and how to kill. Not how to love. Or maybe they did and the world simply told them they shouldn't. That they weren't deserving of it. As he got older Chrollo eventually sought out the meaning of this mysterious red string, finding his answer in one of the books he managed to get his hands on in that wretched and beloved place. A soulmate.

There was a person out there just for him, but more importantly, there was a destiny. A plan for him. He knew he had to find them, to secure this irrefutable connection to another. The leader had planned to meet them when he got out of Meteor City, it was part of the reason he formed the Troupe. Though, as the years went on and life took its toll on him, as it did anyone, the desire to find this person faded. By the time The Spiders had managed to become a notorious group, it was a dream within a dream. A soulmate? How tragically philosophical.

That's not to say he wasn't curious, but he lost that drive, running on autopilot as he searched for a passion without the motivation to even want one. Sometimes he did find himself especially enraptured by the red string secured around his finger though, toying with it during meetings or tying small knots that soon came undone while laying in bed.

Guilt wasn't something he felt often, taking lives and valuables without a second thought was a regular occurrence, but with you? He felt utterly in the wrong. To deny you of something even he found beautiful simply because he "didn't care?" That's when he felt like a monster. He found comfort in the title though, embracing the fact of what he was. He was selfish and greedy and somehow still found a way to prevent himself from gaining the one thing that could save him.

One day he had been twisting the string between his fingers, a mannerism that even the others around him had picked up on when there was a tug back. It became a regular occurrence, the two of you pulling on the string lightly back and forth. You tried to beg him through the string to come to find you, pulling him in your direction, but he never did come. You knew it was impossible to tell, but it seemed he had gotten even farther away.

The only connection you'd ever have with him was through those small motions and you'd go on to love someone else. Maybe not in the way you would have loved him, but there's not much to do when you're destined to love someone who was forced to learn how not to.

Hisoka

"I don't have one" he'd respond calmly. This was his and his alone, so what if people thought he was a freak? He wouldn't allow someone to interfere with this in even the most minuscule way. A person who relied on him and only him to fulfill the grandest idea of love? Nothing could hold more power than the blood-soaked string tied around his ring finger.

Heaven's Arena was a well-known spot, a tourist attraction of sorts, so you simply had to stop by when you happened to be near. As you made your way to the stands and gazed on at the stage you found him already looking at you, giving you a quick smirk as your gaze fell to his hand with a shocked expression. At the end of his "performance" he typically met with fans but this time he naturally went straight to you, a single blood-stained rose held out in a tender gesture. You didn't question how he had managed to obtain the flower, too busy processing the fact that this bizarre man was your soulmate.

Every moment with you is too much for him to endure. It's an adrenalin rush that he's become addicted to but whenever he looks at you he gets this urge to tear everything you are apart and cover himself in the pieces he could never think to reach from the outside. Being close to you is never close enough and the only way to satisfy this feeling of need would be to destroy you. He can't bear to do that but it's so tempting.

At rare times something in him seemed to break, going off on tangents about the cruelty of his thoughts and how he longed to turn you into yet another victim of his murderous desires. He had planned to take over your life, wishing to bask in the high your undying love was sure to give him. A man becoming weak through the pursuit of power is a pitiful sight even for one not tied to them by fate. "My love will never complete you. I take and I take and I offer up only the worst parts of myself because that's all I have to offer. That's the tragedy of loving me, my dear. I will not apologize because I do not feel bad, however, I will not allow myself to hurt such a lovely thing."

You always come back to each other, the string acting as a sort of magnet between you two. Eventually, you both come to accept the situation for what it is; deadly but far too tempting to not risk everything for. He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever laid eyes on and if the image of him was the last thing you ever saw you'd consider it a privilege.

Surprisingly enough, the magician never does end up taking your life, finding the unfamiliar task of restraining himself a new sort of challenge to prove his strength. Holding you close to him, pressing your body against his as he watches your auras merge, was a common occurrence. When his bloodlust rose and your fear spiked just a fraction he would plant a gentle kiss on your cheek before pulling away with some excuse, you both knew he did this to protect you but he'd never admit that.

Illumi

Soulmates were a weakness in the eyes of the Zoldycks, hypocritical to say the least as Silva and Kikyo were tied by fate, but that was typical. Despite the harsh words his parents had told him, his curiosity would eventually get the better of him and he would seek you out. Traveling in the direction the string took him without fail. It was an easy task when you had money and power. Locating you was not the issue, deciding what to do with you once found was. Simply approaching you wouldn't do.

He watched you for a long time, disappearing into a crowd or dark corner whenever you felt eyes on you. One day you found yourself doing trivial tasks, walking the streets on your way to pick up a snack, or do some light shopping when an unfamiliar feeling hit you. It wasn't unpleasant so much as it was surprising. You even describe it as lovely.

Despite his best efforts to keep himself hidden from your view, Illumi had never been trained to hide love. Pain, fear, anger, sadness, all these were painstakingly buried deep within him to the point that even he didn't know how to release them. But what he felt when looking at you grew greater with each small action and he didn't notice it slipping through until it was too late.

The second your eyes met he was a goner. It was like a drug to the emotionally-deprived man and while he knew it wouldn't do any good to engage you, the selfishness that was ripped out of him from a young age came flooding back full force. Both of you remained shocked as you approached one another but the small smile you gave him was enough to make him think that maybe this was the one time surrendering himself to feelings was okay.

Marrying you was a plan he wants to put into action as soon as possible, using the piece of paper as a form of protection. "Never kill a family member" read the Zoldyck rules that were engraved into the assassin's mind. This would be one of many forms of rebellion you had influenced Illumi in making, and while it wasn't necessarily against the rules, it was certainly not something he thought his parents would approve of.

When you're hanging out he remains a bit stiff, not sure of how to act around someone casually. You begin to feel off-put by the awkward composure of your soulmate though he picks up on it easily, his ability to read people far more advanced than the average person. Illumi allows a small bit of his aura to shine through the veil to reassure you of his contentment, and while he won't acknowledge it, you're grateful for his efforts. It's during one of these dates, hidden away in a hotel relaxing beside one another, that the usually warm and comforting aura changes. His arm comes to hold you just a bit tighter and the love he allowed to encompass you shut off. This had happened times before but your attempts at reassurance through small touches did no help to soothe the Zoldyck.

Later that night his hand would rest gently against your cheek as the light in your eyes dies, your face is wet with tears but a forgiving smile still rests kindly on your face. You're already gone. He can feel it. Despite this he holds you against him late into the night, only letting go when he can no longer bear to see you in such a state. His eyes stay downcast as he refuses to look up at the state the sky is in, not wanting to face the fact that the wetness of his cheeks could be from anything other than the weather. He sends one message before putting his phone away with shaking hands. Yet another job is done.

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers - Ch. 1

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / eventual smut / kidnapping

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

“Don’t scream,” a voice whispered in your ear, low and slow. “I do not wish to harm you.”

His hand wrapped around your mouth and the other snaked around your waist. The cool metal of a gun pressed into your ribs. He pulled you tight and fast against his body with ease.

You knew who it was, of course. It was the only person in the room not fighting in the pit of madness. The duel between a super soldier, the new Captain America, and the Dora Milaje hadn't been tempting. But it’d been him to grab your arm to pull you away from the fighting when Sam had yelled for help and now you knew why.

“Don’t do this,” you hissed against his hand.

Zemo pulled you backward, inch by agonizing inch.

You clicked your heels against the floor hoping to knock something over along the way. Anything to get Sam and Bucky’s attention. No one even glanced your way.

“None of that, Liebling,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. His grip on your waist tightened as you passed through the bathroom threshold. What was worse, you wondered. Seeing your team; your friends disappear behind the closed double doors. Or the goosebumps from Zemo’s breath hot on your neck.

With his gun aimed at you, he knelt near the bathtub and pushed it aside to reveal an escape hatch in the floor. You watched him unlatch it and then smirk, surprised that his plan was going so well. That smirk made your blood boil.

“I’m more hassle than I’m worth,” you warned, casting a hesitant glance down the manhole.

He motioned for you to jump down first. “But you are excellent collateral.”

The noise of battle continued beyond the doors, much to your disappointment. They weren’t going to notice in time. Sam and Bucky had looked out for you but their alliance superseded any with you. Sam had only known you for a few months, and Bucky even less. You shot a prayer into the ether that they'd think of you if only this one time.

“You overestimate my importance to them,” you hissed.

Zemo looked up with dark and serious eyes. Usually, when aimed at you, they were less so. You wouldn't have considered him a friend, by any means. But in the last few weeks, he'd become a quiet, witty companion, who infuriated you less than most. Especially when Sam and Bucky spent most of the mission bickering about the plans you had made.

“Perhaps you underestimate yourself,” he cooed, shaking his head.

Sewage stink hit your senses immediately. This would not be pleasant. The drop was too short to give you the time to make a run for it. A second after your feet hit the ground, Zemo returned his gun to your head, with a smile.

“This way.”

Fighting was pointless, that much you knew. You hadn’t been recruited by Sam for your fighting abilities, as Zemo hadn’t been recruited for his. You were handy with a gun but tracking and strategy were your specialties. They’d taken you far in the military, and then as an anomaly investigator and agent with SWORD. And now, they’d brought you here, kidnapped, with a gun to your head in the back of Zemo’s car.

The driver was off towards the airstrip without any further commotion. You watched the road behind you, hopeful to see Sam or Bucky run up on the car. You could've even settled for a Dora Milaje with murder in their eyes and Zemo’s name on their tongue but it was empty.

Once on the plane, you sat in the furthest seat towards the back. Angry, hurt, and nervous, because despite all the warning bells, you’d trusted him. There was clear hatred between your teammates and Zemo but it was different between the two of you. You had no past or grudges against one another. It was silly now to think that that made you believe that there was an understanding.

“I hope you don’t think me indecent,” he murmured, gesturing to an opaque scarf in his hands. He avoided your gaze before wrapping it around your face. “But it would be unwise for me to trust you with my location. You are too intelligent for your own good.”

“Is it normal for wardens to flatter their prisoners,” you hissed, hoping to land a blow.

You heard him sit in the seat across from you and felt his foot brush yours as he crossed his legs.

“Prisoner,” he chuckled. “You are my guest Y/N and I hope that in time, you will find that I can be an excellent host.”

“In time,” you repeated, weighing the consequences of not putting up a fight when you could. How long did he plan to keep you?

He was quiet then, and so were you. The choice of words lingering between you. It wasn't until after takeoff that he spoke again. A glimpse of his face would've given you the clues you desired but the tone of his words was enough. His exhaustion from relentless thought weighed his voice to a deep baritone. Sluggish and soft.

“I have no intention of living the rest of my days in a cell,” he whispered finally.

You couldn't feel bad for him, especially when his freedom came at the cost of your own. It was clear then that confidence and swagger were a disguise, for survival. You’d seen glimmers of the real pain lurking beneath the smirks and fur coat but you hadn’t thought that he’d let it win. It wasn't a disappointment but somewhat a relief to go toe to toe with the real man.

“You can’t run forever,” you reminded him in a soft tone, trying to coax the shadow of humanity left in him out further.

“Ah,” he sighed. “It feels nice to know that you can be wrong, Y/N. For a moment, I doubted that you were human.”

The words lit an angry fire inside you. You couldn’t see him but almost heard the cavalier shrug he threw in for effect. The fabric over your eyes covered the tops of your cheeks hiding the angry flush. You hated him for making this complicated. You hated yourself even more, for not screaming when you had the chance.

Except for the occasional page turn, the rest of the ride was silent, which was unusual for the two of you. There’d been an instant dialogue since the very first time you’d met a few weeks ago. Since then, quiet moments had been rare.

________

The Baron’s private plane had landed an hour ago, but no one was on the tarmac yet. It’d taken you, Sam, and Bucky that long to come to terms with the uniforms chosen for the night.

“You know you don’t have to Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and glared at Sam through the small airplane mirror.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him before going back to gawking at the dress. Tight but not too short, seeing as you were posing as a baroness tonight in the mission to Madripoor. Sheer black fabric slung over one shoulder, sewn onto a bustier underneath. Simple. Elegant. You’d never worn anything like it.

Sam shook his head, mumbling something about this being a bad idea.

“It’s better than the Air Force uniform,” you smiled, knowing full well that that’d get at least a chuckle out of him. It did, earning the both of you a glare from Bucky who was the worst off tonight.

“No time like the present,” Zemo called from the front of the plane. The men left you, bickering about whose outfit was worse. You tried to follow but the only piece of jewelry, a silver charm necklace, put up a fight.

“Allow me?”

Zemo’s voice made you jump. He leaned against the door, with a hand outstretched towards you. Now that half the audience to entertain was gone, he looked more forlorn; less self-assured.

You nodded, moving your hair out of the way before handing the necklace to him. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He did that a lot you had realized. After the fireworks at the beginning of the ride, he’d turned his attention to you. Smile bright, but the eye’s dead. One would think small talk was his forte but you knew better. It is an easy distraction; a way to put your opposition at ease. Regardless, you couldn't blame him for seeking to charm the only one on the flight that did not hate him.

“I don’t think that we met,” he’d stated, settling into the seat across from you. “Last time.”

“Don’t talk to her,” Bucky hissed. You knew he was trying to help but you waved him off, giving him a look that said ‘someone has to talk to him.’

“No, I’m new,” you’d told him, squinting at the artificial grin that didn’t leave his face. You guessed that conversation was difficult to come by in prison. It was a pity that he was an evil mastermind. His ability to fake friendliness rivaled the most talented US agents.

“How new?”

“A few weeks before you.”

His eyes twinkled at your commonality. They bore into yours, trying to decipher what you know of what he'd done. This look was how you knew the stories of his genius, were true. They scanned and shifted, guessing that you knew it all with one look. He was right, of course, and you thought that would be the end of it. Then, he surprised you. He asked about your family, schooling, job, passions, and interests. He spoke about the books he’d had in prison, and you teased him for even reading The Prince.

He smiled wider and wider as you spoke until Sam shot you a glare and you gave the Baron some excuse about sleep. But even when you closed your eyes, and curled up into the seat, you’d felt his eyes remain on your face.

Warm hands against your neck brought you out of the trance and back to the man who you should hate.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, watching his somber expression in the reflection.

“The sigil is — was, my family’s,” he stated, coming around to face you and fiddle with the charm. “You are playing the part of a baroness, after all. We need to make it believable.”

His lips curled into a soft smile at the royal word. A chill ran down your spine. Even though your conversation had been short, you hadn’t meant to enjoy it so much. Conversation was like pulling teeth with most of the people you knew, especially Sam and Bucky. And even when it came, it didn’t flow like this.

“There are worse roles,” you mused, shooting him a soft smile in return. “I could have to play the part of the mind-controlled assassin, or worse, the evil baron.”

He smirked. “Strenuous, yes. I have found that there is nothing more difficult to be, than yourself.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You find it easy, to be yourself?”

“No, I don’t think that you are what you want us to believe.”

The words seemed to catch him off guard and you wondered the last person to show him any kindness was. Not that your words were kind.

Sam yelled some threat from the cabin about Zemo keeping his hands off of you, and you knew that your time was up. You ignored the pang of disappointment and looked up at the Baron's stone eyes.

“I am afraid that I will prove you wrong Y/N.”

You nodded and followed him out into the cold evening.

Low town was the target and as the four of you walked, the air was tense.

You nudged Bucky. “You ok?”

“Never better,” he sighed through gritted teeth.

A car appeared on the fluorescent bridge you were crossing as Zemo took his position next to you. Bucky stood on the other side of him, silent since you’d all marched out of the plane. You couldn't tell if it was memory that hardened his eyes or tonight’s assignment.

“You’re Bucky Barnes, born 1917,” you reminded the sullen soldier. “No more, no less.”

Zemo’s eyes squinted at your words, no doubt in disagreement but you avoided his gaze.

Bucky nodded and gave you a half-smile. It was as much as he could muster, especially when he had to become something he was trying so hard to forget. People have a way of finding their way back to themselves in time and you wondered how long he had left to go. The man who fought in WW2 was different from the man who fought against the Avengers. Both versions of him were different still from the man who'd turned silent in recent years.

“No matter what happens, we have to stay in character,” Zemo instructed as a car appeared on the bridge. “Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

You prepared yourself for the night ahead where you would look at the Baron with lust. It would feel strange to see him as something other than interesting and distrustful. Attraction to him was not far-fetched. He had a strong face and a sultry accent, but you stood on opposite sides of the moral spectrum in the end. Unfortunately, your realism in love hadn’t left you very open to romantic connections. From the little experience you had, it was clear that couples didn’t work if they didn't have a common goal. Yours was not the destruction of your friends and his was not to make the world a better place.

An arm snaked around your waist, cutting off the train of thought. You jumped and looked wide-eyed at Zemo.

“We are newlyweds, yes?”

His words sounded more like a question but a smile played on his lips. You nodded, unfamiliar with the feel of a confident man at your side.

“Right,” you confirmed, being the first one to break eye contact.

The car doors opened and you knew the driver was the first person to judge the performance. You let Zemo pull you towards the car and then hesitated as he walked to the passenger side. You glanced to the middle seat between Bucky and Sam in the back. Sensing your hesitation, Zemo pulled you close.

“Your performance has begun, Baroness Zemo.”

You smiled like he’d whispered a sweet nothing in your ear and drew close to return the favor.

“I’d keep my last name,” you breathed, earning a soft chuckle.

Despite the nerves, you let him pull you into his lap and tried your best to look lovesick. It wasn’t as difficult as you thought as his large hands held your waist, and one of your legs. He looked ahead, with a smug smile and ran small circles on your bare leg. The rush of goosebumps and the hitch of your breath gave you away within seconds. His smug smile turned devious in the reflection on the window.

“Das hast wunderschöne Augen.”

He whispered into the side of your head. You didn’t speak German, and even if you did, you doubted you'd want to hear something mundane or rude. Yet you could feel the hammering of your heart in each fingertip as he spoke in his native language.

A performance you reminded yourself. Two could play at whatever he was doing. You turned to glare at him before bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. The light scruff tickled your knuckles and you wondered what he’d look like with a beard. His brand of handsome wasn't rugged, even when he'd escaped the prison, he looked neat and clean. You rested your head against his shoulder and continued stroking his rounded cheeks. Being a few inches away from his face gave you a chance to study his features. It’d be good practice if you ever had to pick him out of a fleeing crowd, or a Madripoor police lineup.

Other powerful engines surrounded the car. Motorcycles with nosy drivers appeared in each window. He gripped your thigh harder, warning that the stakes were high, even here and it had to look real. A heat manifested between your legs, followed by a throbbing that you hoped he wouldn’t notice. It didn’t feel so much like an act anymore and in truth when ran your fingers through his hair, you did it out of desire. He sucked in a breath and gripped your waist like iron. The stern man didn't seem so impenetrable anymore, as your lips brushed his ear, following a sloppy pattern along his jaw. You ran your fingers through his hair roughly again and felt a slight gasp leave him. His eyes left the windows and found yours. Serious and challenging. His hand moved up towards the hem of your dress. The fabric put up less of a fight than you as he gripped your bare ass. He felt the heat then, releasing a noise from the back of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your kissing became frantic. Your lips buzzed from the pressure and his five o’clock shadow. His lips parted in anticipation but before you could make it, the car stopped.

Zemo released you immediately, nodding an apology to the driver. Pity, you thought, it felt like you were finally making him a little nervous.

Sam and Bucky averted their eyes as the group walked through the streets, trying to look normal. Again, Zemo slung an arm around your waist. You took this as your cue to drape yourself on his shoulder. He stared ahead like this was a death march and that a guillotine stood on the other side of the door with his name on it. He’d been here before, you remembered. The memories couldn’t have been pleasant judging by the way his mouth pressed into a tense line. Empathy came over you and you reached out to slip a hand under his coat to rest on his chest.

This broke the trance and he stared at you for a moment before a smug smile crept across his stone-cold expression. It would've annoyed you but not a second later, he reached up to hold your fingers against him. He pressed you into his sweater, rubbing each finger in an anxious pattern, the only sign of nerves at all. Even the heartbeat beneath his sweater was still steady and calm.

Zemo led you all through a packed crowd to a dim bar. The agent part of you wanted to stray from your role and look around to assess the situation. But your mind went blank as his hand dropped to your hip and guided you up against the bar. You faced a mirrored wall holding more extravagant bottles than you’d ever seen in your life.

Through the reflection, you watched Zemo claim ownership of his Baroness. Each of his hands gripped the railing on either side of you, pressing his chest into your exposed back. His large stature towered over you, but your eyes couldn't tear away from his hands. Their grip around the rounded corners was mesmerizing. In a flash, your brain conjured the image of him holding your legs apart with the same strength. You let out a shaking breath. The fur from his coat tickled your back, and you couldn't focus on his words to Sam as his breath hit your neck.

Disgruntled with the lack of vantage point, you turned in his arms, bringing your face a few inches from his. Intent on taking in the room, you rested your chin on his shoulder. People had noticed your group right away and hadn't stopped looking. You kept eye contact with some, all while kissing the Baron's neck. Only then, did you feel his heart rate quicken.

Zemo spoke to the bartender behind you, but you didn’t hear them. Again, he tested your boundaries by caressing your thigh underneath your short dress.

Newlyweds, you reminded yourself. Very horny, newlyweds.

Mesmerized by the raunchy crowd behind you, and the soft caress of his hand, you gave in again. You peppered wet kisses of longing against his jaw as he spoke to a man who’d come up on the other side of him. He swallowed hard but somehow, you doubted it was out of fear of the man that Bucky had in a chokehold a few moments later.

That was the last moment you remembered feeling calm that night. The moments after put your mission and lives in jeopardy. When the violence and fleeing had played out you'd realized that his hands had never left you. The safety of his grasp was far more dangerous than Madripoor. The feeling of relief when he’d found your waist again at Sharon’s party, had you kicking yourself.

“A very believable performance, Agent Y/N” he purred. “Well done.”

You smiled and glanced down at the few inches between the two of you. Drinking was not the best option tonight but it was too late. Vodka was already coursing through your veins.

“I’d call it compelling,” you smirked. “Not believable.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you with curiosity and something else. Something ferocious that made you wonder why he didn’t have an army of devotees or a cult following. It was that look that made you question your willpower, for the first time ever.

“Why’s that?”

Exactly the question you’d been hoping for. He’d had the upper hand all night but that was going to change.

“Who would believe that I would actually fall for you,” you teased, tossing back the last of your drink.

That would’ve been the end of it for a lesser man but Zemo smiled, showing all his teeth. He was always intrigued by a challenge.

“Tell me, Y/N, who would you fall for?”

Your mouth went dry and although a smirk was still plastered to your lips, nerves rushed back in.

“As if I have time,” you laughed.

He returned the smile. “Gun to your head, then.”

The alcohol in your system whispered different answers. Irresponsible answers. Bringing them to fruition would give you more than you bargained for but you fought against them.

“I like nice men,” you whispered, watching his reaction. “Who don’t use animals for fashion.”

He chuckled and then a dark look passed over his face before he closed the gap between you. A step backward and you found yourself against a wall with nowhere to go. Zemo brought a hand to your neck, caressing the exposed skin and the chain resting there.

“Who says I am not a nice man?”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Your body count, history, profession…reputation.”

He nodded. “Ah, you mistake ambition and purpose for — cruelty.”

“I never said you were cruel. I know you don’t crave suffering. I know there was a reason…for what you did.”

He cocked his head again and pursed his lips, looking at you like a puzzle; something not yet solved.

The techno beat dissolved into a slower, bass-heavy, R&B song. The hand on your neck made its way down to your waist once again, pulling you in. You complied without a fight, letting the Baron lead you through a slow dance.

“Even I can be gentle,” he said after a while. “For you — I would even consider being sweet.”

The words sent shockwaves through your body, igniting every inch. He was a master of manipulation and a conniving son of a bitch who wanted your colleagues — friends, dead. And yet, your mind and body betrayed you. You squeezed him a little tighter and pulled in a little closer.

“And what about the fur coat,” you whispered, playing with the fuzzy material against his neck.

He surprised you with his laughter. He threw his head back in a genuine laugh and leaned into your neck to stifle the giggles.

“I have been in a prison jumpsuit for the last eight years, forgive me for my outdated fashion,” he cooed. You could feel the smirk against your skin.

“Is it real,” you asked, holding up the stupid furry flap.

“Of course. I am a Baron,” he responded, pulling you closer, staring at your lips.

[pinkbunnygirlwattpad]

I’ve been writing a fanfiction based off this image for DBD Ghostface and I think it’s going pretty well. I still have to write the rest of it, reread it and edit it but it’s going pretty well. I think I might be half way through it but idk depends. Underneath is about a third of what I have so far.

Warning: Stalking, Danny being a pervert, murder(?), mentions of sex, other things

Summary: Reader is a closeted age-regressor but Danny is nosy so he’ll know

Daddy’s Little Girl

Danny had been stalking you for a while, much longer than any of his other victim but that was because you were special. He had seen you whilst he was at some house party with cheap liquor and horny idiots practically fucking on the walls and floor, he bitterly thought that it was more like an orgy than the drinking fest the host wanted it to be. Your friend had dragged you to the piss poor excuse for a party and one look into those round, doe eyes had given him the feeling he had when he saw someone he knew had to be one of his victims. He examined you closer while you were there and saw how your whole being exuded purity, from the way your hair looked so soft and the way your skin looked like a blanket made of silk. It was your face that really made him want you, though. Your lips were parted slightly, and you had slightly chubby cheeks, giving them a squishy, bouncy texture that made you look more like a child. But what made him really hooked was the innocent gleam in your eyes when you looked around the room.

 He followed you throughout the night and it made him much more excited about what he was going to do to you when he saw the oblivious state you were in with every guy who flirted with you. It would be so easy to trick you, unlike his previous victims who would have never been interested in some reported with a heart of gold, you would immediately fall for that shtick. He wanted to have sex for the pure gratification of corrupting you. Clinging to your friend all night had made it hard to get close to you but no matter, not when he could stalk you, find out your interests and then sweep you off your feet.

 It had not been hard to find out about you, it is what he does best. You were too busy worrying over your friend to notice a mysterious figure behind you. Danny even had fun of being obvious about it, but you didn’t notice a thing, a kind of obviousness that was hard to find in Roseville where all the people were cut-throat due to the high population of rich people in the area and harsh jobs that were specialised in that area. Your friend wouldn’t help either due to their pathetic drunken state. Thinking in this direction was getting Danny worked up and would leave him with a boner if he were not careful.

 After some time and a quick walk down a path in the nearby woods, you were home in your cottage with a white-picketed fence, beautiful flowers of all colours blooming in the front and some along the stone path leading to the back. The fences seemed to be more for décor reasons than serving an actual purpose since Danny knew that this particular land was quite spacious. You lead your friend inside and, from the window in the front, Danny observed you catering to your very drunk friend. He noted that the inside of the house were pastels and had lots of fantasy, fairy, cottagecore and light academia vibes. He did have to admit, even though he didn’t care for interior design aside from to keep up appearances, he appreciated something so beautiful like that.

 Now knowing where you live and marking it down in his black, pleather (he may kill people, but he wasn’t so heartless!) journal, he left for the night to get some rest. This was the first time in awhile he felt this excited for killing! Don’t get him wrong, killing was fun but it got monotonous to kill the same types of people over and over again. It was exciting to spicy his routine up a bit.

 Danny had been stalking you for 3 weeks and 4 days. He had taken pictures of you throughout that time, at your job, with your friends, when your alone and even in the shower! He did feel guilty about it for a few seconds before he decided that he was entitled to see your body if you had bad security in the first place that allowed people like him to get in. During the duration of this time, he had begun to psychoanalyse you and what your behaviour means, how your body language was an indication of your emotions and built a profile for you within his mind palace (it was easy with his photographic memory). You were so wholesome most of the time, whereas you did occasionally participate in conversations of kins, for the majority, you didn’t want to talk about sex or anything that came anywhere close. Something he also observed was that you had a tendency to not talk in ‘big words’ a lot of the time and he could list so much more that you did but that would be ranting. You bought many plushies, colouring books and ready-made snacks like chicken/tofu nuggets and yoghurt pots, stuff traditionally children liked. Although it made sense seeing how you were the go-to babysitter for the majority of your co-workers and friends, as well as distant neighbours and relatives. Plus, who didn’t enjoy hugging or collecting plushies? And Danny himself was a big fan of ready-made meals due to the time consumed by his work and ‘hobby’.

 Packages were often delivered to your house, at least from what he had seen but maybe it was a wave of them at once, like a spree shopper may do. The thing that intrigued him most to the contents of those deliveries was the way you were very protective over them, not letting anyone see even though you thought you had nothing to worry about. It made him want to know what you might be doing with them or what was in them. For all he knew, it could be something from the dark web, something disgusting and vile that would make you a devil in angel form. Entertaining this idea made him more desperate to find out what it was. And he would.

 He had snuck into your house after you had gone to work so he knew he had a long time before you came home. Once he was inside after going through your unlocked window, (what a forgetful, little thing) he saw a pile of discarded clothes. Approaching the crumpled garments, he picked up a shirt and smelled it. Yep, it was dirty laundry. It sent a shiver of excitement up Danny’s spine from excitement. Oh, what a naughty bunny you were, leaving him such a tantalizing gift. If he didn’t know better, it would seem like you were hoping to rile him up. During this stalking periods as he called it, you became dissimilar to his previous victims who pull a dark desire straight from the depths of his heart where his sick fantasies were locked from the world, you made him want something different than what he already experienced with them. He thought that it could be a new way to kill you, one only for you and designed to be the perfect art form in which to send you off to the afterlife. Of course, he was beginning to realise it was different to this. But back to why he was there.

 Looking around, he spotted one of the boxes that had been opened on your bed with objects seemingly thrown haphazardly into it. He nearly ran up to it he was so exhilarated from the rush of finding out what you were hiding from him. Not that he couldn’t make as much noise as he wanted, your cottage was 40 minutes from the outskirts of the city, which wasn’t the safest environment anyways, and 3 hours away in all other directions from anywhere containing sane, human life.

 Once within reaching distance, he picked it up without peaking in and sat on your soft bed. His hands were trembling from a strong surge of adrenaline and, without wanting to torture himself further, began to look through it. He prayed to find anything that made you deceitful and like him but what he saw wasn’t what he expected.

 Adult pacifiers, shortalls, sippy cups and more items similar to them were inside it. His initial thought was that you were into age play, but he doubted it, even if you were, you wouldn’t use anything this expensive in your casual hook-ups. Now that he knew what was in the box, he had even more questions which wasn’t what he had expected. With a new determination, he had arranged everything back into its original position and left your cottage to collect his thoughts and write down his questions at his base of operation. As he was driving back to the house he bought, he went down to his basement where he kept all his hunting equipment locked in. Looking at the corkboard he used to pin information about his current target, he methodically updated your information. As he did, he realised that he couldn’t stop smiling. This was new, having reached this level of excitement from his victim, it only made his obsession grow bigger for you. Oh, how you would regret going to that party that night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nauthiz

Warnings: noncon sex; hand job; oral; intercourse.

This is dark!viking!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Raiders arrive and chaos ensues.

Note: I think Viking Thor might be the greatest Thor I’ve ever written and I must share him with all of you.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Nauthiz - desire

Sæta = sweetie, cutie.

🌧️🌧️🌧️

The cold rain whipped across your face and your skirts flapped in the wind. It hadn’t stopped storming since they’d come. Since the raiders’ horn had wailed and signaled the imminent destruction. 

The downpour washed away the blood of those strewn around you. Your grandfather was among them. He’d spent his life for yours, or tried to. You’d begged him to stand down. To toss aside the rusty old sword he prized from his days following the former lord in the campaign to the Promised Land. He had died at home by the hands of another type of savage. A true savage.

You shivered and took Winifred’s hand as she sobbed. The men had been herded into several houses along the eastern row. Some were wounded, others dying. The invaders had been much rougher with them, though many of the women who stood with you wore torn bodices and bloodied skirts. The children were with the few elders in Alfie Halfers’s barn. Your sister and brother were there, with crooked old Mary Greene.

The men in their mail and armor stood all around with spears, axes, and blades. Winifred cried louder, along with several others. Like you, they’d lost family that day. Like you, they had no idea what was to happen to them. Like you, they were aggrieved, angry, and alone.

You couldn’t cry. You tried. You wanted to. Your grandfather’s blood was on your cuffs still, you could smell it. His voice was still in your head. ‘Run, my sweet child, run.’ You had run once he’d fallen but not fast enough. You hadn’t wanted to leave him yet he’d met the same fate you feared if you had. And you’d met that he’d died to prevent.

You were angry at these beastly men. Angry at fate, angry at yourself.

Lightning flashed in the sky and screams rose in fright. The approach of heavy boots squelching in the mud preceded the broad, fearsome shadow of a man. He emerged into the moonlight, filtered through the blowing rains. 

His golden hair poked out from beneath a fur cap and a thick beard hung from his jaw. The other men stood rigid as he approached. He spoke to them in another language. Then he turned and looked down the line of trembling women; some just girls. He smiled and his voice boomed again. This time, in your own tongue, lilted with a keen accent.

“We are not here to harm you. We only defended ourselves against your violent kin when they drew steel” He began. “Do not linger on the bloodshed, but consider our mercy. That you still stand here, that many still breathe, offered shelter still from this ragged storm.”

He preened at his own declaration. His English was fine for his kind. Many of the raiders knew only grunts and gibberish.

“And that we would prize you with our favour. Men of pure blood. Men descended from the gods.” He boomed and thunder echoed his tone. “Bow to us and we will be benevolent. Refuse and we will teach you to bend.”

Winifred nearly pulled you down with her as she crumpled into a heap. She wailed and murmured madly as the rain battered down on her. You tried to lift her to her feet but she wouldn’t budge. A man approached and forced her up, dragging her away as several other snuffed their sobs at the scene.

“What will they do to her?” One asked in a hoarse whisper and was shushed by others.

“We will not have you fine women out in the rain all night. You would grow ill, so let us proceed,” The blond man continued. 

He neared the far end of the line. Many craned to watch him as he began the long walk along the distraught women. You kept your head straight and blinked through the rain. Let him pass you by and leave you to languish with the rest.

He got closer and closer. You could hear his boots and the little comments he made and the laughter of his men in response. The toe of his hide boot appeared at the edge of your vision and without thinking, with all your spite, you spat at his feet. You looked up as he flinched and turned to face you. You stared into his eyes and curled your lip.

“Murderer,” You snarled. “Beast.”

He tilted his head and looked back and forth along the line. Then he glanced behind him at his men. He laughed. Loudly. All others were silent as he raised his head and backed away from you. He raised his hand and his chuckles died. He gestured to you with two fingers and a man approached to wrench you forward. You stumbled as you were thrust towards the large blonde man.

“Fiery woman,” He sneered. “I do admire your will.” He smirked. “So I will reward you.” He grabbed your chin as he stepped closer. “Behold, a mighty king does claim you. I, Thor, Son of Odin. First of his name.”

You bared your teeth and your nostrils flared. He pushed you away before you could spit again and you choked on your saliva.

“You might gird yourself,” He warned as he signaled to the man to grab you once more. “Within reason. I do like a taste of fire.” 

The man, a king by his word, Thor, turned away. You were urged after him by the man at your shoulder as the other gave an order in his own tongue. You tried to drag your feet, tried to fight, but your soles slipped in the mud. You grunted as you were nearly jerked off your feet by your escort as he muttered some unknown curse in your direction.

The sky flashed and the thunder was followed by the frantic voices of women and the guttural tones of the armored men. You peeked over your shoulder and blanched at the sight of the raiders closing in on the women as they huddled together in a fearful herd. They hauled them away from each other as you were ushered away. You were better off than no other. You would be better off among the bodies on the ground.

“Woman,” Thor called as he slowed to walk beside you and took your arm. The other man released you but tarried behind. “What do I call you?”

You pursed your lips and kept your eyes ahead, blinking away the droplets as they caught in your lashes.

“I will not keep from forcing it from you, so tell me.” He warned.

You sniffed and tried to tear your arm away. He didn’t falter as he kept on. You swallowed and answered him. He nodded.

“And which of these is yours?” He looked around at the varying houses; some little more than huts, other shared houses with sheds and troughs around the side. You were quiet again and he stopped to turn you to him. “I rarely repeat a threat twice before following through on it.”

You looked down at his hand and back to him. “Up that hill,” You peered over at the incline just a row away. “At the very top. The miller’s house.”

He patted your head with his large hand and angled you around the corner. He hurried you along as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Your legs burned as you trekked through the mud up the hill. 

The rain pelted down heavier than before and you stopped dead as you came up to your grandfather’s fence. His body was still there. Just inside the gate. Thor nearly took you off your feet but paused too as he noticed the corpse. He let go of you and bent. He bowed his head and said some words to the mud. 

You backed away and he stood quickly to grab you again. He shook his head and pulled you through the gate.

“He died with a blade in his hands.” He said. “Brave.”

“Unlike you.” You hissed.

He chuckled and continued along the muddied patch to the front door. He shoved you ahead of him.

“I expect a warm welcome.” He taunted. “In.”

You pushed through the door and he was close behind. Your grandfather’s house was small; a single room. A fireplace against the back wall, a counter built of wood along the other, a table, several barren chairs. Your hay mattress rested in the corner and his own was placed at the foot. The door slammed and another roll of thunder sounded.

Thor let you go. 

“A light.” He commanded.

You went to the table and blindly felt around for the candle there. You lit it with the flint that sat on its tray and you backed away. The small glow cast shadows across the space. The king removed his hat and wrung it out before tossing it beside the clay basin on the counter. He unclasped his cloak and slung it over a chair.

He unbuttoned his lined jacket and looked at you. Your eyes went to the door.

“How far do you think you would get?” He asked pointedly. “My man is at the door and others will patrol the streets.”

You lowered your chin and turned away from him.

“You stay in that dress, you will be sick.” He said. “I will start the fire. You will undress.”

You spun back to him and crossed your arms. You were cold and resisted a shiver.You went to the chest and placed your hands on the strap. He followed and planted his muddied boot on the lid.

“What are you doing? I said undress.” He snarled.

“I will need a clean dress.”

“No.” He said. “Undress.”

You glared at him. He didn’t back down. He kept his foot on the chest and his hands gripped his hips as he stared you down. You reached to the laces along the front of your bodice and untied the top gruffly. You didn’t look away as you loosened them and pulled your collar open. He smirked and retreated.

He took the flint and knelt at the fireplace. You wriggled out of your dress and threw it across the chest. Your shift was just as wet and nearly transparent. You pulled it over your head and tossed it atop your dress. You ripped off your shoes and rolled down your damp stockings. Naked, you turned away, trying to hide behind air.

“Let me see you,” He said.

You peeked over your shoulder and turned slowly. He neared as you faced him and he stopped before you. His fingertips tickled your cheek as his eyes ventured further down. You couldn’t resist the shiver that rose along your back.

“Lay down.” He said. “Get under the covers. Get warm.”

You bit down and crept onto the mattress against the wall. He dragged your grandfather’s to rest beside yours and stood. You slid under the blanket as he tugged removed his mail then tugged his tunic over his head. He draped it across the back of the chair closest to the fire and bent to push his boots off.

He placed belt and the large hammer he wielded against the wall. His socks were stretched over the seat of the chair and he unlaced his pants deliberately. He threw those over his tunic and bent to free himself of his undershorts. He dropped those with his socks and you closed your eyes as he came around the table.

Your heart raced as you heard him near. He gave a low laugh as he approached and the floor creaked. You could sense him looming before you.

“Open your eyes.” He demanded. “Look at me.”

You covered your face and he laughed louder.

“You never seen a man before?” He asked.

“I have.” You uttered. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Afraid?” You felt the other mattress shift against yours as he got down on it. “I don’t blame you. You won’t be able to resist once you see me.”

You grimaced and kept your eyes shut.

“This is the last I’ll repeat my words.” He said. “Open your eyes, girl.”

Your eyes snapped open at his tone. He was on his knees before you. You stared at his face. He grinned.

“Look at all of me.” He hummed.

You gulped and inhaled. You drew the blanket snugger to your shoulders and your eyes fell almost without thinking. His chest stood broadly above his tightly muscled stomach and his arms were as thick as the rest of him. Unlike any man you’d seen before, often as they bathed, his member was large and upright before him. It bobbed against his stomach and he reached to cup stroke it.

“You ever seen a man like me?” He teased.

You turned onto your back and stared at the ceiling. “I told you. I’ve seen men before.”

“But not like me,” He said as he lowered himself across the mattress. “Girl,” He tugged on your blanket and spread it over him. “Come close. It will help you get warm.”

“I will stay.” You insisted.

He growled and shoved his arm under you. He rolled you against him and settled you under the blanket with him. He brought your head up on his shoulder and you could smell the rain in his hair and dried sweat on his flesh.

“I tire of your whims, girl.” He turned you until your breasts were pressed to him and his other hand groped your ass. “I am helping you. You were in the rain too long. You must warm yourself.”

You were silent, tense against him. You’d never been like this with a man. And he was right, you’d never seen a man like him. His fingers crawled over your skin.

“You have good hips.” He said. “But you have no children. That old man could not have been your husband.”

“My grandfather,” You said. “And no, I have no children.”

“You say you’ve seen men,” He caressed your arm. “Have you touched one?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t.

“No.” He answered for you. “Well, I can say I’ve touched a woman. I’ve made women scream.” He inhaled your scent as he clung. “I will do things to you you will never forget.”

You folded your arms against your chest as he rubbed your back lightly.

“Not tonight.” He purred. “Tonight, I will show you how to touch a man.”

He retracted his hand and grabbed yours. You resisted but only until he twisted your arm. He led your hand to his member and pressed your palm to the firm flesh. He bent your fingers around him and his thick veins bulged in your grip. He shuddered.

“Tightly,” He bid. “Move up.” He slid your hand to the tip. “Down.” He pushed it to his base. “And again.” He repeated the motion. “Don’t stop.”

He rescinded his hand and you kept on as he’d shown you. You listened to the crackle of the fire and his thick breaths as you numbly stroked him. He began to groan as his hand slapped against the mattress.

“Faster,” He begged. “Faster, girl.”

You obeyed. You didn’t ask why, you didn’t hesitate. Whatever was happening, you wanted to be over. He pushed his head back as he jutted his chest up and the blanket slowly slipped further and further down his torso. He grunted and flicked it away from him so it hung from your shoulder.

“Watch.” He rasped. “See what you can do to me.”

He lifted his head and looked down at your hand as it glided up and down his member. He bared his teeth as his blue eyes dilated in the dim light. His thighs tensed as your eyes stuck to the scene and his voice got louder. The arm beneath you curled and he pulled you closer. You could hear his heart as your head was pushed further onto his chest.

He exclaimed and his hips jerked. A warmth suddenly spilled down your hand and spread beneath your palm. The white liquid spurted up and coated your fingers as your lips parted. His hand stopped yours as he sputtered.

“Enough, enough,” He growled. “You know what that is, girl?” You blinked. “That’s my seed. If you are good, I will honour you with it.” He slowly released your hand. “You might be fortunate enough to carry a king’s child.”

Your hand slipped down and you wiped away his seed on the blanket. You quivered as the balmy smell of his sweat and arousal enshrined you. He drew away from you, carefully, and rose. He went to the table and snuffed out the candle. He returned to you through the flickering shadows of the fire and pulled you close once more.

“Where is that voice, girl?” He slung your leg over his. “I will help you find it again. Never fear.”

🌧️

You were wakeful, restless. The large behind you snored with his arm firmly around you as the storm raged without. When last it quelled and the steady beating stopped, you wriggled free of his grasp. You shivered as you turned your back to him and dozed for an hour before the sun in grey wisps through the cracks of the shuttered windows.

You woke as a warmth pressed to your back and Thor pressed his nose to the back of your head. He pushed himself against you. He was hard again. He rocked against you as he growled low in your ear. He drew away abruptly and sniffed. He sat up and the blanket fell from your shoulders and you shivered in the morning chill.

“Girl.” He said as he rose with a groan. “What will we break our fast with?”

You held the blanket to you as you crawled across the mattress and you went to the chest. You reached for your dress and he tilted his head in warning. He wagged his finger.

“Did I say you could do that?” He asked.

You dropped your hand as he neared and tugged the blanket away. He tossed it back on the mattresses and backed away. 

“I said you would cook my meal.” He turned and went to the fire, barely more than ashes. He added the splintered wood from the woven basket and stirred it until it sparked. “So, be quick.”

You rounded the other side of the table as he sat and you took the heavy iron pot from the counter. You added oats from the bag and emptied the last of the ewer into it. You added nutmeg and cinnamon bought from the merchants in the next town and hung it from the hook over the rising fire.

You avoided looking at him as he watched you. He scoffed as he picked at the wood of the table.

“You want to say what makes you frown.” He said.

You looked up and he smiled. You averted your gaze and folded your hands. You would never used to being so bare. You raised your chin and swallowed.

“How do you know this language?” You asked.

He snickered and tapped his fingers on the table. He ran his hand over his beard and you made yourself look him in the eye.

“I’ve been to many villages like this. Those men I did not kill, I took as slaves. At least a dozen or so. The women… I never took many of them. They are not so strong for the field and their use is… fleeting. But those men I took, I spoke to them as I could.” He leaned back and dropped his hand to his lap. “I learned to tell men how I would kill them before I did.” He lifted a brow. “That fear before I bring my hammer down… that is… it is that destiny the gods made for me.”

You crinkled your nose without thinking and your blood turned cold. He spoke of killing as if he were shearing a sheep or sowing a field. He was amused and you wiped the disgust from your face. You turned and took a wooden spoon and crossed to the fire to stir the oats.

“No…” He began. “I never did take a woman. I feared they wouldn’t make the journey after… after they had bowed to me.”

You withdrew the spoon and returned to the counter with it. You set it down and peeked over at him.

“The ego is the male sin,” You said. “Tolerance is a woman’s penance.”

He inhaled and rumbled softly. “Our gods do not speak of sins. How grim. They speak of glory. To take and not beg from some spiteful wraith.”

You pushed your head back and said nothing. He kept his eyes on you. His gaze made you uneasy but if you let him see, it would only be another victory to proclaim.

“Oh, how glorious,” You took the wooden spoon and went to the pot again. “To take oats from an old man’s hearth.”

🌧️

Thor left you after he ate. His man remained outside the door, the occasional clink of his mail assuring you of his presence. You pulled on a dress unwrinkled by the rain and sat by the fire. The sky outside was grey and the sun refused to show. You spent your hours mending a collection of holey stockings and your grandfather’s old cloak. It was likely pointless work but it kept you from thinking.

You chewed on stale bread as the day wore on. Then you sat at the table in silence. The winds persisted but the rain did not return. You couldn’t hear the usual livestock grazing along the neighbour’s yard or the voices of children as they ran along the dusty paths. The was only the eerie dearth of life all around.

The door clattered and you sat up as you looked over your shoulder. Thor wore his cap and long fur-trimmed cloak. He came up beside you and his hand settled along the back of your neck.

“You’re dressed,” He remarked. “You think when I am gone, I am no longer king?”

“You’re not my king, here or there,” You said. “This is not your land.”

“It’s not?” He taunted. “This is a dead man’s house. I can only claim it as my own.” He ran his thumb along the bottom of your skull. “You will be allowed a shift at supper.”

You stood and shook his hand away. You went to the counter and bent to the basket of potatoes beneath. He snorted and followed you. He poked your head.

“We are not eating whatever gruel you can cook up,” He said. “My men are having a feast. In celebration of a fruitful journey.”

You stood and sidestepped him. You crossed the room and turned back to him.

“It is cold out. You expect to wear only a shift?”

“You shall have my cloak while we walk,” He unclasped the cloak. “My jacket is more than warm enough.”

You sighed and pulled the cowled neck of your dress over your head. You swept it away and threw it onto the floor. You stood in your shift, it fell just past your calves and left you frigid. You grabbed your shoes and pulled them on over your stockings. Thor neared and held out his cloak.

“Bear fur.” He said as you turned and let him place it over your shoulders. “Fell it by my own hand.”

When his large hands had secured the cape, you stepped away from him. It was oversize for you. You held onto the sides to keep it from dragging.

“We hunt for food, not sport.” You said.

“As do we. And there is much more to do with a bear than just eat.” He passed you and opened the door. “My people do not waste. We use every bit… until there is nothing left to be had.”

He let you out first. The man who stood guard at the door watched you pass as his king followed you. You descended the hill quietly and he guided you along as a din of voices rose from the church along Cutter’s Road. The priest had been housed with the elderly. He was the only ordained cleric in the village as the inhabitant paid their tithes in the upkeep of the chapel.

Inside, the pews were pushed against the walls and men sat in clusters all around steaming spits of roasted lamb, pig, and goat. The livelihoods of several families filled the stomachs of these killers. Thor led you to the front of the chapel and sat amid a group of a dozen men. They greeted him with deference and doffed their cups. Lee, the baker, also brewed his own ale, and it was quickly being drained from his hidden vats.

The king removed the cloak from your shoulders and spread it on the floor. He sat and drew you down beside him. The men around you leered openly as you sat on your knees and Thor withdrew a knife from his pelt to carve off a thick hunk of sheep meat. He offered you a piece and you accepted it wordlessly. You’d nibble so that you wouldn’t have to eat more.

As you stared at the floor, aware of the whispers spoken in another tongue but no doubt about you from around the circle. Thor humoured some, returned a bawdy joke, and ran a knuckle along your arm.

You stiffened as another hand rested on your knee. You sneered down at the hairy paw as it crawled up your thigh, the fabric of your shift threatened to rise. You dropped your handful of meat and slapped the man who dared to accost you. He swore as he drew away and you struck out at him, your palm met his cheek loudly.

He grunted and raised his own hand. It was stopped by another as Thor leaned over and pushed until the man rescinded. The king growled a warning and repeated it to the entire group. He sat back and played with the top of your shift.

“Girl. You are brave but stupid.” He tugged at your sleeve and his hand fell to rub his thigh, his thick legs crossed before him. “Sit with me.”

He pulled on your arm until you moved. You were clueless until he grabbed your hips and led you over into his lap. He took another bite of sheep and offered you a bite. You shook your head and he finished the slab on his own. He wiped his hands on a rag drawn from his pocket then wrapped his arms around you.

“Let me tell you something, girl.” He began as his hand spread over your stomach, his other pinched the fabric of your shift along your thigh. “I do not talk so much to the women of this land. I would have my way and be done. They are too meek.”

You shifted and he groaned, his fingers pressed against your middle. You felt his bulge against you.

“I bid you wear your shift for my own ease.” You glanced around, those men around you and others through the hall watched you. “Often, after such a feast, I would bend my prize over and the men would be unable to look away. When I finished, they would take their own pleasure.”

He took a deep breath and chuckled.

“I will disappoint them tonight. While I long to pull up your skirt and bury my fingers inside you, I have decided it would be wrong to share you with these men.” He purred and gripped your hips, pushing you down so you felt his arousal more plainly. “A woman has never riled me as much as you, sæta.”

You stiffened against him and grabbed his wrists. You felt as if you would melt beneath the heat of a hundred eyes.

“Not here, sæta,” He repeated the name. “I will have you and only me. I will taste you first.” He squeezed your hips. “And then claim you entirely.” He tickled your sides.. “And if I am satisfied, you might see my land and warm my bed there.”

🌧️

The men around you grew to a bawdy drunken racket. Words you couldn’t understand shouted to the response of laughter or plain threats. Their king did not discourage them as he only splendoured in the rowdy rapport. He paused only as you began to fidget impatiently. You were irritated by these raiders and you felt as if you were the crux of their amusement.

Thor pushed you up and you stood. A few men quieted by the din remained. The king lifted the cloak and wrapped it around you as he had before. He announced his departure as he bent to take his stein and rain the last of the fragrant ale. He let the cup fall back to the floor and led you to the church doors. Heads turned and grumbled laments bristled in your direction. The king had chosen not to share his spoils.

In the night air, the king clung to your arm through the thick cape. He traipsed along as he looked up at the moon. You wanted to run. To slip from his grasp and flee into the forest. You stumbled and he jerked you forward.

“That would be a fun game, sæta.” He lilted. “I am fast. Are you?”

You lowered your eyes and took a deep breath. You said nothing as he ushered you along.

“My people have a similar repast. A festival in honour of the gods. A hunt.” He explained. “Our maiden set off into the trees and we wait a while before we give chase. The last of the women to be found is our festival queen. She is adorned with furs and gems and she is the next to be wed.”

“We do not partake in those unholy rituals.” You assured him. 

“No, you take your crosses to listen to an old man ramble in a forgotten tongue.” He said. “This night, I will show you how your people live grey lives. The gods did not put us here to mourn our own being.”

“We live on our own toil, not by taking others’,” You muttered.

“You live by that quick mouth,” He hissed. “You do amuse me, sæta, but you tempt me to anger as well.”

“Would you bend to any who invaded your home and killed your people?” You countered as you set up the hill.

He was quiet as you approached the gate and he let you through. The man remained by the door in his armor and greeted his king with a dip of his head.

“Though you do not admit, we are more alike than you believe.” He opened the door and pressed his hand to the small of your back as he led you within. “You are right; I would not bend.” 

The door closed behind him. He swept the cloak from your shoulders and hung it as he had before from the chair. He pushed the candle towards you and turned to the fireplace. You lit the wick and he stirred the embers to spark the log he placed over them. He stood and removed his fur cap. His golden braids shone in the lowlight and the silver beads at their ends added to the glimmer.

He removed his jacket next, then his mail, and his sword belt which held a large hammer rather than a long blade. He set it down and straightened to look at you. He bent his leg and tore off his boot, and then the other. His eyes stuck to you as thoughts curved his lips.

“Undress and I will bend to you, sæta,” He said. “And you will feel the glory of my gods.”

You stared at him. You bent to slip out of your shoes. You stood but could not bring yourself to lift your shift. Even though the night before had bared all that you could hide from him, you couldn’t. You pressed your palms to the linen over your thighs and he neared.

He bunched the fabric along your hips and slowly raised it. He pulled up until you were forced to lift your arms and he drew the shift over your head. He let it fall behind you. His hands framed your face then slipped down to your neck. He turned them flat to your chest and dragged them down to cup your breasts. 

His hands continued their descent and he carefully got to his knees before you. His arms snaked around you he kneaded your ass before tickling along the back of your thighs. He shifted closer and pulled one of your legs up. You grabbed onto his shoulder with a gasp as you nearly toppled.

He bent your leg over his shoulder as his hand ran up past the top of your stocking to your hip. Your foot arched until you were on tiptoes and he bent closer until his hot breath tickled the hair along your vee. You shivered and wobbled as you tried to pull away.

He held you close and nuzzled you. You squeezed his shoulder as he hummed and his lips brushed your cunt. 

“What--” You choked on your voice as his tongue poked between your folds.

You’d never felt that before. Never felt such a cool heat. Never felt that tingle that started along your tailbone and rolled through you. Never felt the weight settle inside you as his tongue pressed to your bud and flicked back and forth. Your other hand went to his golden locks and you clung to him as your leg quivered beneath you, the other hooked snug around his shoulder.

He purred and it sent a delightful ripple through you. He lapped more eagerly and you turned your face up to the ceiling, your eyes rolling back. There was that voice inside telling you it was wrong; for this man to do what he was doing to you, to feel this way, to be unable to think of anything but the pulsing of your core.

Was that you? Were those your moans? You quaked as your body acted on its own. As you sank into the sheer joy of that moment. You bared your teeth as you reached the peak and plummeted over. You cried out and latched onto Thor as you tilted your hips into him. He stopped only as you quieted, breathless and barely standing.

He drew away and you felt an empty chill. You looked down at him, your vision a haze, and he tickled your thigh before slowly slipping it from his shoulder. You wavered as you held onto him to keep your balance.

He rose as he took your hands from him. His lips glistened as he gazed down at you hungrily.

“Look at you, sæta,” He smirked. “Aching for more already.” You pulled away from him and elicited a chuckle. “Do not be ashamed. Your god holds no power over me or mine.”

He backed away and pulled his tunic off in a single swipe. He tossed it away and it slid over the chair on the other side of the table. He undid his breeches, sighing as he opened the front and rolled them down his thick legs. He stepped out of them, along with his wool socks. He did not wear his undershorts. He was erect; proud as he stood naked before you.

He turned and pulled a chair close. He sat, his hands on his muscled thighs. 

“Here, sæta,” He beckoned you close with two fingers. “You have my patience… for now.”

You blinked and staggered forward. He caught your hand and drew you close. His other hand slapped his thigh.

“Up,” He commanded.

He tugged more adamantly and grasped your hips as he urged you into his lap, your legs folded over his thighs. You held yourself over his length as his chest puffed out and he sighed. His eyes held yours as he felt beneath you and led his tip along your folds. He pushed on your hip.

You resisted as his head pressed to your entrance. He pinched you and growled. You grabbed his shoulders and tried to keep yourself from slipping. His jaw squared and his other hand gripped your waist. He forced you down and you exclaimed. There was a pain so deep it felt close to pleasure. 

He pushed deeper and you slapped him. His flinched slightly and grabbed your hand. He took your other and guided both behind your back. His fingers wrapped around your wrists as he kept them there. His other hand went to your thigh and he began to rock beneath you. Each tilt of his hips had him impaling you deeper than the last. Your walls ached around him.

He leaned forward and nibbled at your breast. You couldn’t help the whine which escaped you. His mouth toyed with your nipple before taking the other. He snarled against your flesh as his grip tightened on your wrists and he guided your hips and the chair groaned.

He grunted and pushed his head back. He watched you hungrily as you gulped at air. The same pressure began to mount as he moved you faster and faster. His hand slipped back and stretched across your rear. He took a breath and stood with little effort as he kept you moving against him. You moaned as thrust into you from below, bouncing your body as if you were nothing. 

You wrapped your legs around him as he released your wrists. You hugged him to you as you writhed in desperation. You needed more. It didn’t matter what he’d done or who he was. You needed it. You needed that peculiar release which made you feel both empty and entirely full.

You buried your face in his neck as you came. Your body quaked as he didn’t let up. The noise of flesh slapping filled the space and the flicker of firelight had your vision cloudy. 

He began to walk, his steps uneven and clumsy. You clung to him tighter as he slowed you just slightly. He dropped to his knees on the straw mattress and it caused him to sink into you completely. You mewled and he reached to your arms. He untangled them as he bent over you and laid you on your back.

He sat up slowly. He kept your pelvis up against his, your weight upon your shoulders as he held you at an angle. He rutted into you harder. You whimpered and he did it again. Even rougher. He paused between each thrust, admiring your senseless cries. It wasn’t long before your eyelids met and you were once more squirming in bliss.

He grunted loudly with each jerk of his hips. His pace was steady and deliberate until he could control himself no more. Until he was crashing into you so rapidly you thought you would shatter into pieces. He snarled and let out a thunderous roar. The heat within you bloomed as his pelvis spasmed and stuttered to a shaky halt.

He let out a thick breath and fell forward over you. The smell of his sweat filled your nostrils and your eyes fluttered open. He stared down at you, his face flushed as he brushed his nose against yours.

“Sæta,” He rasped as his fingers tickled your cheek.

“What does that mean?” You uttered, trapped beneath him.

“It means you are sweet,” He said. “It means I will keep you.”

[cienie-isengardu]

Can you do headcanons on SubScorp (Kuai Liang / Hanzo Hasashi) and the evolution of their relationship, please? ♡

Sure, just please keep in mind that rock has a better romantic sense than I ever will. I’m not a shipper in general and SubScorp has a lot to overcome in my mind to even get close as friends but I will do my best! In advance, sorry for the long text and especially opening. My hand slipped but I needed to build the romantic headcanons on something.

Oh, and I kinda threw away the canon timeline here and there and went with how I would write their relationship (and story, I guess) if I was given the chance.

At the beginning, Hanzo and Kuai were bitter enemies and their hate for each other was the exact reason why Quan Chi kept them working together. The revenants were creatures of vivid emotions, twisted and corrupted by Netherrealm fire. So the stronger they hated, the mightier were their unnatural powers. But there was also a more sinister reason: Quan Chi kept them together, day after day, because it amused him to watch how Sub-Zero and Scorpion wanted to hurt each other but always were defenseless against his magic, always blindly obedient. To have two deadliest of enemies as slaves under his power was the best perk of necromancy.

When they were revenants though, Quan Chi’s cruel joke meant nothing. Kuai Liang had no free will, no remorse, only hate and pain to go on. Hanzo could - should - run away, but didn’t. He was broken in thousands of little ways and it was easier to follow orders, to not think than take responsibility for his own choices, to face the utterly devastating feeling of failure. It wasn't a good life - it wasn’t a life at all, but it was all they had.

After so many days turned into weeks turned into months, the constant presence of each other became the punishment and the salvation at once. They hated each other and this hate never truly left them for a moment, never let them feel peace of mind. They hated each other but it was an emotion that bonded them together, grounded in reality, made sense in an otherwise senseless world.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang got used to each other that the presence of mutual disdain was as normal part of their cursed life as breathing for a living person.

But then Quan Chi lost and suddenly they both were brought to life against their will. The first weeks were the worst. They were victims of dark magic, everyone was saying but none of them was a killer responsible for thousands of brutal deaths. Not like Hanzo and Kuai Liang and because of that, the burden of guilt was their alone. A burden they didn’t want to share among themselves, so they sought out different paths to find some solace.

For Hanzo, there was nothing to come back. The home of Shirai Ryu was destroyed, devastated beyond any measure. He still heard clearly Quan Chi’s voice in his head, how he failed his clan, how shamed his wife and child. Hanzo felt dirty and unworthy and utterly lost. The once mighty Scorpion was now a wreck, a directionless nomad.

For Kuai Liang, the home was Lin Kuei but it was taken by cyber monsters without souls. Once he returned to living, those monsters hunted him restlessly. For years he ran and hid and killed and killed and killed and killed until he was ready to face Sektor and reclaim what was once his. An honor and a purpose in life, so he could find Scorpion and kill him for brother’s death. But then he learned dark secrets of the clan and even darker truths that changed everything.

Because of that, Kuai Liang invited Hanzo to Lin Kuei Temple, offered peace and a new start, a way to atone for all crimes and sins they committed arm to arm during war. Above everything else, offered the truth that finally set them both free from their cruel past.

They did not keep in touch then though. They met sporadically, when Raiden asked his Champions to assist in this or that little crisis. To hunt the demons that somehow survived the war, to find oh so rare, mystic artifact or two, or do a quick job in the Outworld. They were assassins after all and Special Forces the heroes who shouldn’t dirty their hands.

During those meetings, Hanzo and Kuai Liang tried to stay as far as possible without making a fuss about it. During missions though there was no one who could safely separate them, and thus save them from painful memories of the past.

It was terrifying to Hanzo how much he missed Sub-Zero’s cold presence at his side, even if the so well known hate for Bi-Han’s death still hid beneath the cryomancer's skin like a furious, wild beast, always present, never forgiving, kept in check only by Lin Kuei’s iron will.

It was terrifying for Kuai Liang how well he still understood Scorpion’s body language even though the ninja tried so desperately to hide scars left by Quan Chi on his soul, all those unsaid horrors he experienced, all the doubts and pain and self-hatred that burned as hot as Netherrealm fire that twisted them both.

But those sporadic joint missions alone weren’t what helped them connect once and forever.

Ironically, it was the guilt that let one understand so well the other, to know when it was a good time for jab and when not to speak - not to see - raw pain that both so hard tried to bury under their respective masks, of cold politeness and hot devotion to the past. Surprisingly, it was also the arrogance of united governments that wanted to use them to expand Earthrealm’s control over wild Outworld yet did not see them as human beings. To be seen as a useful tool but never truly welcome wasn’t anything new for any of them. Kuai Liang and Hanzo were a relic of a dark past that should have died years ago yet were too stubborn to just yield and blindly follow orders even again. This burning desire for independence and search for their lost humanity built a common ground, the bridge between past hate and empathy.

This, and their shared disdain for Johnny’s never ending jokes. In the past, every time the Champions of Earthrealm met in the same place and Cage opened his mouth to talk Hollywood's weirdness, Hanzo got closer and closer to Kuai Liang. There was no word of recognition or permission - one look at each other and they understood perfectly it was either stay strong together and endure this senseless, annoying wave of words or do something regrettable.

And because they already had enough guilt to worry about, Sub-Zero and Scorpion simply stood arm to arm, like they did during war. Somehow that comforting familiarity grew up into something much stronger; not yet friendship but unity anyway. Time did not heal them but the mutual hate faded little by little, day after day until pain was nothing more than bitter ache they simply learned to live with.

Despite everything and everyone, Hanzo and Kuai Liang got to trust each other, to rely on a bond that was once a cruel Quan Chi’s joke.

Sub-Zero was the person that accompanied Hanzo to the Shirai-Ryu clan’s ruins, so he could finally bury dead ones left there forgotten by the world. Hanzo should have done that long ago, he knew, but the claw of fear clung to his heart for years and would not let it. The fear that Hanzo Hasashi never truly existed and he was a fraud, another lie begotten by Netherrealm. That there was no Harumi nor Satoshi and in the end he clinged so desperately to a nightmare that never was true to begin with. A nightmare for which he murdered the wrong person and brought someone else this maddening pain.

Seeing the ruins of home - the once so familiar bodies now just flesh spread out, glistening bones scattered everywhere, ripped and crushed, forgotten - was like dying again. Hanzo broke down and for the first time in a decade allowed himself to cry. Kuai Liang was there by his side, offering no wise words, nor comfort. He simply sat there, back to back with Hanzo, so he could know he wasn’t truly left alone this time yet quietly like a shadow to not disturb his grief. Hanzo would never forget this kindness for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t forget the sacrifice made that day by Sub-Zero to come to mortuary ruins, to bury another clan slaughtered without mercy in the name of madness and spite.

But with pain came also relief, that his memories were truly his and not another sweet lie whispered to his ear by a twisted sorcerer.

(Kuai Liang came here because it was the right thing to do. To pay respect and melt the dark past into a better future in which Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei could be an ally, maybe even brothers in arms. He came for Hanzo, because no one did that for him, when he had countless bodies of comrades to bury after Sektor’s defeat and no one should be forced to do so alone. He came there also for himself, to see and be sure Bi-Han wasn’t part of the heartless crime. The hallmarks of a frontal attack, chaotic destruction and coarse, devoid of surgical precision violence were proof it wasn’t Bi-Han’s work. His brother would never be so sloppy, so random in his attack. He even told so Hanzo, in this moment of relief and social clumsiness and Scorpion just looked at him with the reddened eyes and did not burst in flame of anger, just… accepted the truth and Kuai Liang said no more about it.)

Scorpion was the person that stayed at Kuai Liang’s side when Frost betrayed her master and disappeared without a trace. He never liked the cryomancer girl - she reminded him too much of Sub-Zero who sought him for brother’s death. Young and brash, untamed, always snarling, spitting with venom in their face. But above everything else, Frost’s anger burned too hot like his own and he hated to look at her and to see himself.

Maybe losing such a precious student - an heir - was like losing a child. Hanzo understood this crushing feeling but there were no right words to offer. Even if he knew them, Sub-Zero did not want pity, did not want to talk. All he needed was a space to unleash fury and pain, the excess of emotions too large to bury them in the tomb of a cold heart. And so day after day, night after night, the ice and fire clashed over and over again until all muscles burned and the ache brought finally some peace. Not much, but enough to let Kuai Liang not dwell on his failure and focus on Grandmaster’s duties.

(There was something off about this whole situation but Hanzo couldn’t pick on what exactly. Kuai Liang had secrets he didn’t share, not yet and Hanzo respected his wishes, trusting Lin Kuei’s word. So far, Kuai Liang never had let him down. Scorpion trusted and it was terrifying on its own).

Those were the little steps into a path that brought them closer. It wasn't love for each other then, not even romantic infatuation, but love for the lost one, for family that was once but no longer. They understood this grief too well.

The first time Hanzo felt the pang of love, he and Kuai Liang were debating about the proper course of the upcoming mission. They were sitting in Hanzo’s room, with an open door leading to the Fire Garden. Then, without warning came spring rain and both looked out on instinct. The air was filled with the freshness of trees and flowers coming back to life; a freshness they breathed in greedily to wash out the taste of Netherrealm ash forever.

On that day, everything seemed to be in the right place. Just the two of them, sitting arm to arm delighted by the simplest things in life; a warm rain, nourishing garden, a steaming mug of tea between all of this. There was a peace Hanzo did not feel for ages and the sound of the rain and steady breath of his companion lulled him into half-sleep, half-awareness.

On that day, Hanzo wished to keep this moment forever.

The second time Hanzo felt something toward Kuai Liang, it was on Lin Kuei’s training ground. They spared, like they always did in their free or stressful time, but for whatever reason, Kuai Liang smiled at him, this soft, weirdly cocky smile he rarely shows in company and Hanzo looked at it for a few seconds too long before he understood how fast his heart beat, how warmness filled him - not the Netherrealm fire that burns through his muscles and bones, but warmth that he felt only around his wife and child. He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel its coldness on his own. It was wrong on so many levels and he did what he always does in times of overwhelming emotions he didn’t like. He disappeared into flames and ran the hell away from Sub-Zero’s smile. The burned holes to this day were the proof of his shameful panic.

Where did such obscene thoughts come from, he did not have an idea. But the guilt for having them even for a moment about Kuai Liang - any man, really - was too heavy, too suffocating to face Sub-Zero. So Hanzo avoided him for weeks.

And yet, he came back to Lin Kuei Temple. And again and again and again. Despite the burning shame, he sought out Kuai Liang, because only around him, the Netherrealm’s cursed fire cooled down enough to allow him to breathe.

So he danced, between disgrace and this weird feeling of happiness, of living again. Of seeking out the cryomancer and running away from horrific emotion he didn’t know how to get rid off, how to tame.

(Hanzo loved Harumi with all his heart. How could he love - desire - anyone else? And a man whose brother he unjustly killed?)

Kuai Liang decided to not discuss Scorpion’s emotional swings until Hanzo figured it out for himself what he truly wanted. There was no point to get involved into some sentimental drama if there was no hope for sensible agreement.

The Lin Kuei always desired a new generation of warriors, so sex wasn’t any taboo. Some warriors sought comfort in the arms of strange women and men, some between each other. Sex wasn’t forbidden but the emotions were. To feel loyalty or worse, love, to a fellow warrior instead of trusting the masters was a crime.

Kuai Liang did not feel any sudden pang of love toward Hanzo, nor any desire for physical contact. Romanticism never was part of any cryomancer’s nature. He missed his brother and Smoke, but year after year the pain of loss dulled enough to leave him with nothingness. Kuai Liang knew only this: somehow Scorpion became the only source of warmth that kept his heart from freezing completely.

Kuai Liang didn’t have a proper name for what twirled in his soul - a friendship or a love, how one could tell those apart? He wished his older brother or Smoke was there to tell him it was alright to like - care for - Hanzo, but both were dead and twisted into monsters. It was just him and his fragile, scarred heart to judge what was right and what was not. And hope Bi-Han would forgive him the weakness.

They find the balance that keeps both safe, warming the frozen heart and cooling down the neverending flame of anger. For a decade or so, it worked well.

But then Hanzo killed Quan Chi and ruined the chance to free revenants from sorcerer’s curse. The Champions of Earthrealm never liked Scorpion to begin with, now he was persona non grata. Rightly so. Imprisoned, he awaited their judgment. Scorpion could easily escape but chose not to - he was ready to face the consequences yet there was no court nor punishment. The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei came for him and made it clear to all representatives of the united governments and army that he will with Hanzo at his side, over their dead bodies if need be.

Twenty years was not enough time to forget what they together were capable of in fight. How dangerous and experienced murderers they were. No one dared to stop them when they left military base together.

Kuai Liang did not rely on words to show his feelings. Deeds always spoke more than any pretty speech. He was disappointed yet he still came for Hanzo. He saw Scorpion’s arrogance, egoism, breaking point and still came and that only made Hanzo love him more. For the first time, he did not feel shame or guilt for loving - and being loved - by another man.

Hanzo Hasashi’s choice almost brought destruction to the world yet somehow, this tragedy made them inseparable for good. It wasn’t always easy - they argued, for fun and for real and there were still rare days when it was only wise to stay away from each other. Like the day of Bi-Han’s unjust death and the lost chance to bring Harumi and Satoshi to life. They were beyond the primal hate yet some instincts were too strong to risk destroying what they built for themselves over the years.

Somehow through the years they changed from Sub-Zero and Scorpion to Grandmasters of their respective clans and from those to just Kuai Liang and Hanzo.

Hanzo wasn’t used to being so casually called by name but he liked the change. It was Sub-Zero’s voice, he suspected, that made him feel so attracted. At the same time, he felt honored when Kuai Liang told his birth - forbidden - name. He knew it already, for years, but it was different to know and be told, allowed, to use it freely.

Hanzo’s turbulent relationship with other Champions got worse once his student, Takeda started dating Jaqueline Briggs. The Champions distrusted and disliked him and he didn’t feel any need to reconcile with them. Kuai Liang was disappointed in him for treating the girl coldly but everytime asked why he still bothered to deal with Shirai Ruy Grandmaster, the answer was one and the same - he is my equal. For Hanzo it was the most beautiful and terrifying declaration.

(At the same time, everytime Hanzo heard someone accusing Sub-Zero of being cold, heartless, untouched by trauma, the anger burned him wholly. Who were they to judge, to mock Kuai Liang’s pain that hid so well under polite words and calmness? He did not care what people said about him, but would not stand any mockery against those he respected - loved - so much.)

Then of course another immortal being decided to screw up everything and messed up timelines. The younger, brash and mad version of Scorpion wasn’t something that Hanzo and Kuai Liang actually wanted to see, nor the repeat of Cyber Lin Kuei. Then Hanzo died and woke up, again trapped in Netherrealm. So he ran at the first chance, thinking more about Kuai Liang than about his own fears of burning alive in hell forever. The sight of Sub-Zero in hell should have alarmed him - and it did, for a moment, scare Hanzo that the other man died too which was an unbearable thought. But Kuai Liang was alive and so, so determined to bring him back home. If that wasn’t the loudest, the most tangible declaration of love, what else could it be?

And so, like twenty years ago, they fight side to side, like one body and soul. And destroyed, killed, tore apart demons and hellspawn, everything and everyone that stood in their way to freedom, to safety of Earthrealm’s boundaries. First time in ages, they could unleash their anger at those who hurt them, enslaved, and used. It felt so good, so right to be a storm of vengeful fury that frightened even the mighty Netherrealm. They were alive and together and nothing, no gods, titans or destiny, could stop them.

Kuai Liang and Hanzo did not talk much about their last visit in Netherrealm. What happened there was their and only their moment to relish, incomprehensible for bystanders. It was weird though, to come back to live and face his younger, stubborn self. Kuai Liang did not like this Scorpion much and to be honest, Hanzo did not like this version of himself too. It was Scorpion from the darkest time in their past, when only mutual hate connected them. At the same time, there was something amusing to see himself so awkward and uneasy everytime when Kuai Liang and older Hanzo sat so closely, relaxed and calm, like it was the normalest thing to do. When they acted like halves of the same soul.

Kuai Liang never was keen to show any romantic gestures but sometimes he took Hanzo’s hand to emphasize clearly what they were. Hanzo was always surprised by Sub-Zero’s openness and filled with joy, whereas his younger self was confused as hell. Hanzo suspected he would soon need to talk and explain to his younger self what he and Kuai Liang were to each other. Why they needed each other so much and how loving someone else other than Harumi was not dishonor. After all, love wasn’t sin nor weakness.

[animeloversworldsblog]

Guren Ichinose victim of emotional and physical abuse

Guren is someone who is always guilty for every act he commits, he is seen as a genocidal and a bad person who has played with people's lives as he pleases, but what I have noticed is that many ignore that Guren is a victim of emotional and physical abuse, that he has made mistakes, and he himself knows what was his biggest mistake in life, he is naive, he is abusive, but only with himself, he is a boy that anyone can hurt him and even so he keep trying and striving for the people he love. He always cares about others, he always tries to strive to be a better person and does nothing but try again and again to learn, teach, fight only to protect others.

Many ignore the fact that his misfortunes began from the moment he interacted with a completely toxic and abusive girl, where many say that it was one of the best things that happened to guren, which is actually seen, a little boy who begins to show and feel like a person without value, without self-esteem. Guren since he starts interacting with Mahiru since he was 5 years old shows signs of emotional abuse, such as manipulation, control and being forced and pressured into something that he is not, he was just a naive and innocent child, she is his trauma, that trauma that prevented him from growing as a person and seeing that there are many more things than just feeling like garbage all the time. But mahiru was not an innocent girl, already at that age she was aware of many things, the worst of all, that of hurting an innocent family that had nothing to do with her simply because she wanted revenge on her family. 

Many speak of guren being in love of mahiru from 5 years to adolescence, and even still 24 years old.

Guren was never in love, the emotional abuse that guren has suffered since he was a child by mahiru is not love, since she forced his mind and turned it into a fantasy bond. Guren being a child falls in love with the idea of ​​childhood love not with mahiru, guren think that interect with her is the most normal thing, so he created an illusionary connection with her, created a sense of safety and security so guren begins to feel responsible for her from the moment they take mahiru by force and he feels that he could not protect her. Now when guren grows he still feels affection towards her, an attached because guren wants to protect them all equally. But the illusion connection guren created as child making see that the reality wasn't how he think it was as child, he even realized that was a childhood thing and he was naive. Guren sees her as his childhood friend, but he does not show to be in love, also the first thing that saito tells guren is that he is in love and is strong for her, to which guren immediately rejects that and even when she appears guren rejects her more than once without doubt. 

Why do I say that guren was never in love, and his relationship with mahiru was nothing more than abuse, control and destruction? Because drive guren more and more to madness to the point that he lost all sense of self so much that he could no longer see himself realistically anymore.

Guren shouldn't be romanticized in catastrophe at 16 with Mahiru saying that he was in love when in reality he was being forced to love and protect a completely destructive and toxic person to the point of wanting to destroy everything that Guren truly valued and truly loved. 

His interaction with mahiru is nothing more than destructive, not love, he was too pressure for her that in more than one occasion he did not want to get involved with her, and even refuses to be like her and follow her orders, because he knew that she was problematic. In more than once, he wants to keep her away from him, he did not want to know anything about her, and he even began to realize that getting involved with her would make him regret later, guren was mentally healthy with his friends, his family but every time guren got involved with her, or even every time she was mentioned guren shows many signs of being a victim of abuse by mahiru, not of being in love when is far away from be it, guren feel depressed and useless just by being close to her, even as a child Guren begins to interact, not with a girl as she should be at her age, but with an illusion, Guren creates a fantasy bond with her and there she begins to kill his innocence because guren begins to blame himself for not protecting her and carries great guilt and low self-esteem ever since, he begins to have a fantasy bond that offers an illusion of love which prevents real emotional contact and how he is a kid he have no idea of what is being in love he even idolized her so much, so when he grow up what he feels for her is caring bcs to him she was still the innocent girl he met and the victim of her family. Their interaction did nothing but destroy Guren and lead him to this day to be completely damaged and to do what he is doing simply for the fact of getting involved with her. Guren has no options, he can't just get rid of her. He can't achieve things of his own, would be great to him do that bcs he tried it, instead to follow her orders and executes her plan. But he has no option bcs he is not even owner of his body. 

Guren demonstrates from the first moment he meets her, like an innocent child, is that the initial encounter and perception of him strongly influenced his developing relationship with Mahiru. If guren had understood from the beginning that she was not who she seemed to be, and that she was simply hiding behind a facade of what she appeared to be, then guren would have been more cautious about getting involved with her. But guren showed his personality, sensitivities, emotional sensitivity and, above all, conscience, something that a person as manipulative, controlling and forcing, since she was a child, like mahiru, saw and took advantage of, knowing that with those possibilities she could hook guren to get involved with her because he was a kind, sentimental and affectionate child and, of course, because he wanted to help her. Mahiru was initially interested in his kindness, and often praised him for the wonderful child that he was. But that praise for those qualities was minimized because she was using him in the service of someone who didn't really care about him. She really only cared about what he could do for her.

All this gets even worse when he sees her again at school which, you can see a guren who feels incompetent, does not smile, or feel happy every time he sees her and talks to her even before mahiru started to murder and drag guren to madness, guren never shows signs of feeling good or happy when she is around him or talks to her, always doubts and feels like trash, vulnerable .Guren does nothing but want to help her, he feels responsible and attached to her, throughout the novel Guren does nothing but please her, because he believes that that would make her feel better,  he feel pity for her, so he think that do whatever she wants is gonna make her feel better she wanna to be hug, kiss and sleep with him bcs she ask all that, so guren does that, he even ask himself if do what he does with her is the right choice but is nothing romantic in all that with her, is just to pleased her, out of pity and bcs to him she was just a poor girl with many problems, so he wants to comfort her bcs maybe that help her. The only thing guren know for sure is that he wanted to help her and save her bcs he felt responsible for her, bcs he was weak as child and couldn't protect her so he tried to repair his weakness with her. But his feeling for her are not for love. Even on resurrection guren was able to realize that it wasn't his fault all what mahiru did, (playing the victim role), but he was a victim of her and that he felt fear and knows he was being manipulate from her when he was a child. Guren is in pain bcs his friends were death not for mahiru, he was literally crazy in the end and he couldn't see the reality anymore, after she died guren back to not be manipulate and he not even care if she was death he just care for his friends and what he did to the world even that wasn't his fault but mahiru, because he was forced for her to do it.

What guren always loved the most was his dad, his family in aichi and his friends and he let that clear more than once. He let clear that bcs he slept with her that doesn't mean they are something else and have to take responsibility for that. Guren in all the novel show the opposite to be in love and wanted to be with her bcs he let that clear, even he rejected the offer from kureto to be with her. He loved mahiru as a childhood friend and want to saved her from darkness that is how guren see her after he woke up and was able to see that she wasn't what he thought she was. That she was nothing but a monster. So he had to learn all that by forced.

Every time guren talk to her, he feel exhausted, emotionally drained, and negative

She creates on him psychological weakness by undermining his's confidence, self-esteem, and self-worth

When guren involve with her, he is lead by fear, as a victim of emotional abuse often is, it cuts him off from the full experience of who he is. In other words, it diminishes his self-esteem and makes him doubt of himself, and then he give over his power.

She always twist his thoughts, actions, wants and desires into something that better suits how she sees the world and she mold him into someone that serves her own purposes.

She also tries and makes him believe that she's doing a better job of “loving him” so that he'll be more willing to set aside what he wants in order to feel like him “love her just as much.” It's a sick mind game.

When a person as guren, is being manipulated there is no room for love because it has been replaced with chaos. Wherever there is consistent confusion there can be no resolution, and therefore no love. This is the love guren feel toward her

She wasn't interested in loving him, she was interested in he loving her and conforming to her needs; then convincing him that this is love. She forced him and pushed guren to lover her. 

Guren isn't confident enough to leave her, bcs to him she is a victim and an innocent one, so she thrive on keeping him down, bcs she constantly tries to isolate him by telling him that his friends and family are bad influences that doesn't let him to be strong so she threatened him to killed them so he can't leave and find something better. 

The Unhealthy love here is a crap-shoot. The pace is fast, quickly dominating guren by moving him into the role of the subservient. 

In reality, his emotional health, happiness, and self-worth was all going swiftly down the pan as a result of being with her in all the novel as child, teenager and even having 24.

Guren feel so guilty every time he is with her, that he start to feel constantly like he did something wrong. But that is the formula. The formula of emotional abuse is that he feel like he did something wrong. He feel like he is the problem. He feel like he's at fault, like he could do better.

Every time guren interact with her she always degrade his body. Tell him weak, too slow. He doesn't run fast enough to came and save her. That he is not strong enough. She make fun of his ability and power, call him names just to make fun of him. Making fun of his achievements, hopes and dreams

He feel depressed, anxious, unlovable, full of dread, feeling on edge all the time, or feeling like he is "crazy" and doubting what he knows. 

He increased mental stress just to be around her

How she knows his weak spots, she use them to wound him. She makes comments and take actions that are meant to leave him feeling vulnerable and upset.

He feels constantly anxiety.

His self-confidence is compromised, which lead him to feelings of helplessness, shame, despair, as well as resentment, guilt, and disgust and even decline in self-care. 

What's most damaging is that it takes away his ability to trust in himself and when that happens, he start to feeling crazy.

Guren question his own sanity and reality in the end of vol 7 to the point to not act like himself anymore he believed and internalize the lies she feed him. And, in turn, that affected how he view himself and his worth. He developed a huge mental disorder.

Guren cannot even heal his wounds or grow up as an individual by himself, when he has been abused by her for 19 years, which has done nothing but damage his mind, his body, his life and that of his family and a lot of people in general. 

What i see in guren:

°A teenager and a man who care so much but he doesn't know how to express it with words with the people he loved the most.

°I always see him get hurt and tries to hide it, even so he can't shared so much how he is in pain for being abuse.

°I see people around him that doesn't understand him at all, only shinya is the most understanding with him. 

°He always is fighting againts his traumas, his failures, his worse nightmares, his worse mistake, his past and present and how he never give up even if that hurts he always tries his best to stand up. 

°I see him trying to achives things of his own terms but being pressure to go against his ideals and beliefs just to try to protect his family and save the world, he always tries to do the best he can, but is not enough, even so he tries. 

° He was feeling guilty and remorse for so many years and seeking redemption, even so he think he doesn't deserve it, he think all is his fault, he is able to let others kill him for his acts and feel guilt, pain, remorse and he cries for that.

° He always tries to make amends, he knows and accepts he was wrong or made a huge mistake and how he regretted it but also how much he works hard to protect people he loved and people that need help. 

° He still stick to his own ideas, he still has ideals, beliefs, and he would like to try others ways, even so he can't because his body and mind are being forced and abused to make other people agenda.

° He always is trying and trying for loved, family, friendship, companion and people who could need his help. 

It is horrible to think that a single person can take your desires, your wishes, your beliefs, your ideals, your life and break it into a thousand pieces simply because there is no one more important than yourself, something that to guren and many others happened simply to get involved with a completely destructive and abusive person. 

Unspeakable things happen to everyone, that does not mean that you can do whatever you want with others. Protection and love does not mean you should sticking around and screw with their life.

Guren is someone that is suffering all this and still is the same guren. He is strong and intelligent on his own right, the only thing in life that made guren being weak was meeting her and was his worse mistake and he repeat it more than once. And what always make guren strong was love and protect his family. Is what always make guren keep his sanity until now. Abuse don't do anything good to him. 

Healthy love is what guren has with his family, always was fun, easy, joyful, open, relaxed, active and quiet. Each one of them, knows it is up to them what type of emotion, attitude and effort they bring into the dynamic with guren. In those healthy dynamics, consciously, guren, choose to focus on the positive qualities of the people he really love. When guren consciously focus on what he love about the others it makes loving them easier, and it makes it easier for all of them to love him. That is healthy to him, it always was.

@dulciasouls1 @ijustwannasomesleep @lottenoir to you girls that always help me. Hope you like it!

[zenonaa]

'The smart thing would have been for Touko to retire to her room. Anyone could wear the mask of a handsome man, even a monster. Instead, she found herself following him, spurred on by her own curiosity, not only about what he offered to tell her but why he wanted to tell her something potentially so important. As she walked, she felt extra conscious of the holster of scissors hugging her thigh. Throughout her life, she had met many monsters that wore fake faces, but with Byakuya, she felt sure he didn’t wield a mask hiding his true self.

It was a gut instinct. No. Not gut. Her heart told her this.'

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya Additional Tags: Togafuka Week, talent swap Summary: Talent Swap AU! Togami and Fukawa bump into each other and discuss what motive Monobear would need to provide to push them to murder. Also there may or may not be smooching.

Comments: A (late) Day 5 for TogaFuka Week - Swap! Takes place in the universe from this fic I wrote in 2016. When I was a more optimistic Livi, I wanted to write a multichapter fic for this talent swap.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

Ten students remained.

As Touko Fukawa sat at her desk, twirling a pen between her fingers, she passed over their corpses. She stepped over Yasuhiro and Kiyotaka. Skipped around Hifumi and Chihiro. Hopped across Sakura and Celes. Of course, she wasn’t really maneuvering around them. Her dorm obtained no bodies. In reality, they were tucked away wherever Monobear dragged them to once it had finished with them. What had been described was figurative, as could be found in a passage from a literary novel.

Not that Touko was a published author. The title of Super High School Level Writer belonged to her classmate, Byakuya Togami. Touko Fukawa was the Super High School Level Heir, not that her title was anything to scoff at. Already she had earned billions of yen, and she had survived more attempts on her life than anyone else here. Except perhaps Sakura, the Super High School Level Soldier. But she was dead so she didn’t count.

Other than Sakura, Kyouko was also likely to have fought off death, and Touko wondered whether the Fighter had participated in any deadly battles. Whether she had inflicted such pain onto others. Whether she had ever murdered an opponent before arriving at this school.

Touko had. Killed people.

Not in the way her alter had, puncturing the veins and lungs of corrupt businessmen, of perverts, of half-siblings, always with scissors, always with a signature written in the victim’s blood nearby. No, Touko didn’t need to do that. With victims working for other corporations, she struck them bankrupt. In her conglomerate, she confiscated jobs, leaving victims to drown in their desperation as they tried to stay afloat. She exposed fraud, blackmail attempts, human trafficking, and with nowhere for her victims’ darkness to hide, they withered in the light.

Memories dug into her skin like termites. Tasting bile, she looked up from her desk. The walls of her room lurched toward Touko before reeling back into place. If she stayed here any longer, the room would close its jaws and crush her to pieces. She stood up, her chair shunting backward with a grunt, and marched to the door.

Ahead of her lay a silent corridor. Most of the others were probably sleeping by this time. Touko stayed on guard as she wrapped her arms around herself and started plodding along with no particular destination in mind. The cafeteria would be shut, so she couldn’t acquire a cup of tea to try to soothe her jittering nerves from there. While she had glimpsed a box of teabags in the storage room a few days ago while searching for some towels, she still had no way to heat them up.

Then she remembered she had also spotted some chocolate in there, and chocolate was supposed to be able to help calm a person down. That was better than nothing.

Touko quickened her pace, moving with more purpose now. Maybe she was being reckless. Six of them had been slain and another motive dangled over their heads. Someone would surely attempt murder for what Monobear had on offer. Not her, but someone else would. All Touko had to do was ensure she wasn’t the victim.

By the time she entered the storage room, she hadn’t seen Monobear nor any other students. The idea of returning to her room, where the only sounds would be her own thoughts, made her stomach roll, so she decided to eat her chocolate in the library. Reading about another’s life ought to distract her from her own. Grabbing two bars, she left, and she soon arrived at the library. She managed a few paces forward before she heard rustling, turning her blood to ice, freezing her, rendering her immobile.

Moments later, Byakuya Togami emerged from behind a bookcase. His presence in the library wasn’t shocking in and of itself. He was the Super High School Level Writer and an avid reader. Touko just hadn’t expected him to be here so late. Though she had seen him here during the evenings, she usually stayed in her room after the nighttime announcement so never saw him in here after that. She would have thought he would have kept to his room at this hour, especially when one took into account the latest motive to murder.

“Which one are you?” he asked her. When she entered, she hadn’t made much noise - at least, she thought she hadn’t, but Byakuya seemed to have homed in on her as soon as she came in. “The abhorrent admirer, or the creepy loner girl?”

“I’m Touko Fukawa,” she replied.

“The latter then.”

She stayed where she was, and he stayed where he was.

“Have you come to murder me?” he asked. “Or is this just a regular stalker with a crush behaviour?”

Touko squeaked and shook her head. Her cheeks burned. “I... I came here to read, that’s all.”

“You’re rather jittery. Does my presence unsettle you? Do you believe that I intend to murder you?”

A gasp cracked in her throat. He sighed and pushed up his glasses.

“Compose yourself. I will not harm you right now. I intend to be the last man standing. The survivor who confronts and defeats the monster at the end.” Byakuya’s brow furrowed, his face darkening. “I refuse to yield to the pressure that Monobear tries to inflict on us.”

“... is that it?” Touko asked, her voice a pinprick. “You don’t plan on murdering anyone because two students will be allowed to leave? It ruins your envisioned ending?”

That was the motive. For the next murder, if the perpentrator was not voted out in their victim’s trial, they were allowed to choose another student to graduate with them.

“Not quite. I couldn’t care less if another escaped with me.” The bitter twist of his lips morphed into a smirk. “It’s simply too early for this to end. The plot has barely reached the halfway point.”

Even with such a wicked expression, he was still handsome. Touko’s heart raced watching him. By now, the chocolate bars in her hands had crumbled from the pressure of her fists. Not that it mattered, because her insides were writhing too much for her to keep any food down. She shifted her weight between feet.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he told her. He cocked his head to one side, his gaze as sharp as a knife. “I do wonder about you, though.”

“Even if I wanted to kill anyone, I couldn’t,” she said. “Everyone knows about my alter, so I would be the first person to be heavily scrutinised and suspected.”

His stare embedded deeper.

“Still. I must be on my guard. Your alter may wish to seek revenge on me for revealing her identity,” said Byakuya.

Touko hunched her shoulders. She should have hated Byakuya for announcing her secret in the last trial, even if the alternative was being framed by Hifumi and dying. After all, when a person shoved another out of a window on the top floor of a blazing building, the fall still left bruises.

And yet the sight of him still filled her chest with butterflies.

“My alter wants to survive as much as any of us,” said Touko.

“None of the motives so far seem to have impelled either of us to murder,” remarked Byakuya. “Not money... not the paranoia of another owning one of our secrets... not being forced to sleep in the same room, in the same clothes, and abide by the same rigid routine everyday.”

He trailed off. She didn’t offer a word to the silence, waiting to see what he was getting at, if anything.

“Tell me, what would drive you to murder?” he asked her.

“I told you - ”

“ - that you’re always going to be a suspect because of Genocider Syo,” he interrupted with a flap of his hand. “You already said. But is there nothing that Monobear can do to force your hand?”

Touko edged back a step, eyeing him. She found it hard to tell if the fluttering inside of her was still attraction, or fear. “What are you? The m-mastermind?”

He smirked. “That would be a twist, but no. Curiosity.”

“There is nothing that Monobear could offer me,” she said firmly, even if her legs were trembling. To counteract that, she clenched her legs together and further mutilated the chocolate bars in her tightening fists. “What about you? What would push you to murder?”

The glimmer in his eyes disappeared as he glanced away. “This isn’t the best location to discuss this. Monobear may be listening in.” He returned his gaze to her. “How about we continue this conversation elsewhere? The locker room by the baths will provide sufficient privacy.”

She was still processing his offer when he strode toward her. She stiffened. Didn’t breathe. He paused next to her.

“You may stay here, or hurry back to your room if you desire,” he said. “Should you wish to indulge me in more conversation, however, you know where I will be. I shall be there for the next hour, with an answer to your question.”

Touko stood motionlessly as she listened to Byakuya’s receding footsteps. The smart thing would have been for Touko to retire to her room. Anyone could wear the mask of a handsome man, even a monster. Instead, she found herself following him, spurred on by her own curiosity, not only about what he offered to tell her but why he wanted to tell her something potentially so important. As she walked, she felt extra conscious of the holster of scissors hugging her thigh. Throughout her life, she had met many monsters that wore fake faces, but with Byakuya, she felt sure he didn’t wield a mask hiding his true self.

It was a gut instinct. No. Not gut. Her heart told her this.

They arrived at the locker room together, slipping past the noren curtain.

“So what about you?” asked Touko once both were well inside. She had thrown away the chocolates on the way there and could now fidget her hands together. “What could convince you to deviate from your plot outline?”

He was already standing near Touko, but he took a step toward her, approaching like the swell of an oncoming wave.

“Perhaps,” he said, dragging up his glasses, then hers, “a love interest.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Byakuya dipped his head, drawing closer and closer. Touko could have pushed him away. Kicked him between the legs. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to. As their lips pressed together, and his hands rested against her upper arms, her heels creaked away from the ground and her hands latched onto his waist.

Byakuya withdrew first. Touko wobbled for a moment, feeling light-headed. Even though he had initiated the kiss, she still expected him to grimace and swipe the back of his hand across his mouth. He scraped his teeth lightly against his lips, wetting them. Tasting. Then he made eye contact again.

“Hm? Are you suffering from post-kiss catatonia?” he asked. She stirred, the fog in her head not yet fully cleared.

“I’m s-surprised.”

“That is what is known as a test kiss.”

Touko squinted. “Test kiss?”

“It’s a trope that means... I am testing to see if you would partner with me in murdering one of our classmates.”

Her head jerked back. “W-What?”

He held out his hand toward her.

“Would you commit murder with me, Touko Fukawa?” he asked like a marriage proposal. Touko’s eyes flickered.

“I...”

She didn’t finish her sentence. His fingers curled into his hand before retreating, coming to rest on his hip.

“It doesn’t matter. As I told you, I have no intention of murdering yet. This was really a test to see if you could be recruited for murder. Though as you have said, due to your alter, you are by default a prime suspect.”

A test. There was always some kind of catch. Touko nodded, gazing down at her feet. She should have hated him.

“That’s all,” he said. “You are dismissed.”

The room hummed.

“Goodbye, Fukawa,” he said. “Go to your room now.”

Touko turned away and trudged out. With her back to him, she didn’t see him bring his hand to his lips, not to wipe his mouth, but as if he could still feel the kiss lingering.

She should have hated him.

And yet... she was smiling as bright as a butterfly.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Traitor.”

Going to be working on this one for a while. Hope you guys enjoy the update :)

He did his best to stay calm even as he was led into another room and introduced to their drake boss. He tried to keep his expression somewhere between an easy smile and a thoughtful nod, let them think he was really considering their offer, really considering  their offer to go out and murder himself.

It was all just so unbelievable.

He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that the chairwoman would want  him killed. He thought the two of them were long time allies. He thought she had been the one, along with Admiral Kelly, to support his rise to the rank of captain when all of this began. What had happened between now and then to necessitate her desire to kill him.

He had to admit that he was both hurt and concerned for himself.

His brother Thomas was out there posing as him while the universe's most powerful politician plotted to end his life. She had the strength of the entire GA Armada behind her. He doubted all the ships would attack the omen if she asked, but at least some of them would, and without him there to maneuver the ship…. He worried that they wouldn’t last through a fight.

His stomach churned as the two pirate  women spoke among each other trying to make him believe a lie. His stomach tied itself into another knot. He was surrounded by an entire galaxy of people who wanted to kill him, and for what?

Because the human race was growing too powerful politically? And somehow he had something to do with it.

Despite suddenly being thrown into politics at a young age, he knew that he didn’t understand them. He was a pilot and a soldier first and foremost, and he found that being a politician required lying to people and in ways that he just wasn’t capable of. He knew he was in a vulnerable position.

The two women finished their little speeches, satisfied that they had followed him, and he nodded to them as he was led back out into the hall. Cannon walked behind him the entire time spear held at the ready, ready to cut down anyone who tried anything. He had no doubt that they would be able to handle Beatrice and Geea. The Drev was no great shakes as a warrior and Beatrice behaved more like a  crack addict with a knife than she did a fighter. Between him and Cannon they could take the two of them out.

In fact, Adam could probably take both of them at once if he had to, though he didn’t relish the idea.

He had a feeling that the two of them were being used just as anyone else might be. They weren’t working for themselves but being manipulated by a system that didn’t want to get in trouble itself.

The two of them were just patsies.

They led him out of the room and back into the main thoroughfare of the pirate waystation. Where once he had been excited to view all of the cool and illegal technology, he now felt sick to his stomach. Neon lights flashed above him under colorful ad campaigns for new jetpacks and all he could think of was the betrayal.

He needed to talk to someone. Immediately.

“I must return to my ship to make preparations.”

“We will come with you.”

He shook his head, “No, I need you to make sure that the rest of my men are getting along in the equipment they find. If they don’t get what we need then the mission is a bust, so you better make sure things go smoothly.

He didn’t wait for them to respond, but turned on his heel and made his way back towards the ship, his boots clattering on the metal flooring.

Beatrice said something rude behind him, but he ignored her for the most part.

He didn’t care about her at this point, she was simply a pawn in a larger game.

And while they were pawns….. Well that would have to make him a King, which honestly wasn’t much better than a pawn.

He was a target for an assassination, and the entire board felt like it was moving around them, and the opposing queen had him in her sights.

He was going to have to change that.

He stepped into the tube leading him into his “fake” pirate ship.

It had been a lot of fun pretending to be a pirate over the past few months or so, allowing words of his deeds to spread in just the right circles, and crafting elaborate stories of daring encounters with UNSC cargo ships who were willing to help him with his plan. For the most part it had all gone off without a hitch, and he had been able to live out every child’s fantasy of becoming a pirate.

But now, now the jig was up and the fun was over. He was going to have to figure out something in the next few hours.

He stepped onto the ship and headed towards his rooms, shutting the door behind himself before setting up a secure transmission to the Omen. The line that he sent the transmission out on was disguised as some sort of manifest request to an orbiting ship above. No one would find anything interesting about it, though the signal would be intercepted by the Omen and opened on another secure channel, which generally tended to be used to monitor cosmic feedback.

He waited there for a moment as the device rang a few times, and then the screen sputtered to life.

The picture wasn’t the greatest quality, but they had made sure to do that over the past few days to hide any of the small quirks about Thomas that would have made him easy to identify as an imposter.

“Cargo?”

The word was a pre made code word asking if it was safe to speak out of character.

Thomas would respond with either, “Goods, or weapons.” The first meaning go and the second meaning stop.

“Goods.”

The image before him cleared up, and his brother's face peered back at him from the camera. He had to admit, they had done a good job in making him look Like Adam. He had tousled blond hair and eyepatch and likely makeup to adjust the structure of his face. All in all, it was pretty impressive, but being Adam and Thomas being his brother he could definitely tell. Thomas was shorter and a bit thinner than he was, though he had filled out since joining the marines, and his hair was a shade or two off from Adam’s.

“You good?” Thomas asked, flipping up the eye patch to show his real eye.

Adam sighed, and rested his elbows on the table before him, “There has been a….. A massive compilation, and I’m not sure what to do.”

Lord Avex still sat on his shoulder, and had been surprisingly quiet since the revelation about the chairwoman. 

“Are Sunny Krill and the others there, I need to talk to them.”

Thomas nodded and shuffled on the other side of the camera for a minute before returning.

“How about physically. Haven't had the shit kicked out of you, have you?”

Adam shook his head, “No, no I’m alright, Just mentally reeling at this point.”

He rubbed his temples trying to stave off the headache he could feel coming on.

There was a soft thud and hiss, and the door behind Thomas opened.

Sunny stepped into the room and hurried over to the monitor resting her hand on the back of the chair Thomas sat in, “Adam, are you alright!” The worry in her voice was palpable. She had wanted to come along on the mission with him, but he had reasoned that she was  too recognizable. Even if they had changed her colors it would have been far too easy to  identify her. She hadn’t like that, but had still agreed to stay behind.

“I’m alright, physically anyway, and so are the others.”

“You’ve figured out who their leader is.”

Adam went quiet, and by the looks he was receiving, he knew that they could sense the tension in his face, “Wait till the others get here.”

Just when he said it, the door hissed open again and Simon, Dr. Katie and Krill walked into hte room.

Dr Krill inflated his helium sack and floated into the air, looking him over with a critical eye for a long moment, “You don’t seem injured, so that is a good sign.”

Adam sighed and shook his head, “I wish that were the case.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean I would rather be beaten up than dealing with the real problem at this point.” He rested his head against his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look, this is going to sound absolutely insane, so I will just go ahead and send you the recording.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the recording device he had taken with him dropping it into the little well on the communications array. There was a soft whirr and it slowly levitated upward and began to spin. The video was played back for the others to see, and they watched in silence ad growing horror as the Chairwoman of the GA plotted his death.

When the recording cut off, the group of them stared at him with wide eyes.

Sunny shook her head, “This makes no sense.”

“Why would she…..”

Adam shook his head, “I don’t know…. I thought we were on good terms, but it seems as if that is no longer the case. THe GA is against us, or at least the head of the GA is. I don’t know who is loyal to us, and I certainly don’t know who to trust.”

It was then that lord Avex piped up hopping down from Adam’s shoulder, “The Celzex will always be on your side, Admiral. That is why I came on this mission, that is why your ship is the only one equipped with our weaponry.” he stamped one of his feet, “We will wipe her and her puny planet off the map.”

Adam raised a hand, “Woah…. woah , I don’t know about that. We have to do this carefully. I doubt she is acting with the entire interest of her species in mind, but more likely a small group of people. If we are going to deal with her we will want to confront her quietly where no one else is going to get hurt.

Lord Avex didn’t seem particularly pleased about that turn of events, but he kept quiet and allowed Adam to continue.

“We need to expose her publicly is what we need.”

Sunny shook her head, “And how do you plan to do that. There is already the problem of you having to assassinate yourself, which really isn’t going to do us well at this moment in time.”

He shook his head, “IT will be easy to take care of the pirates, they aren't all that smart and taking them out won’t be difficult. Just let them board the ship and then we can deal with them from there. After that is what I am worried about. We need her to show her hand, and we need to gather plenty of evidence. What I have right now is good, but if we can find something better, then that will ease my mind.”

He stood and paced back and forth slightly across the room, “We need…. We need to open me up to them. We need to make it look like I am vulnerable, we need to give them a chance to carry everything out, make it look like I am an easy target. Let thor guard down, and then when they come for me, we close around them like a bear trap and they will be none the weiser.” He tapped his fingers against the table, “You can’t help but leave some kind of digital trail in a time like this, it is completely impossible, if we have one end of her plot in a public setting, than we can unravel it right before her eyes and there will be nothing she can do about it.” 

Krill, who had been mostly quiet for this time shook his head, “It seems strange that she would involve herself so closely. Using a proxy to do all the work for her would at least give her plausible deniability, why would she do it herself ?”

It was Thomas’s turn to pipe in, “Seems easy enough. She’s the only one she can trust. If what you say is true than I doubt she is going along with the interests of her own people. If she involves someone else than it is going to get messy for her especially if she doesn’t know where their loyalties really lie. She would have to make the decision to deal with it herself and ricks being caught, or risk being outed by the people that she trusted, and seeing that most of the Rundi are politicians at heart, it wouldn’t surprise me that she wouldn’t trust anyone ther than herself.” he waved a hand in the air, “They are grabbing for power just like she is, and they might see this as an opportunity to undermine her and set themselves up to become the new chancellor.”

He nodded slowly, that did make some measure of sense.

But how to pull hair out of hiding.

One thing at a time he supposed.

Outside he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the hall, and he turned to look at them making a quick hand signal, and the feed was cut off. He leaned back in his chair just as there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” He ordered, and the door opened up to reveal cannon trailed by Beatrice and Geea.

He growled internally

They continued to get in his way and were becoming  a real annoyance for his plan.

He was gong to have to deal with them soon.

“Ah, ladies, you’re back. Were we able to find all of our supplies.

Geea stepped forward, “I believe we have, now you better get to work quickly, my employer grows impatient with your stalling”

I bet she does, he thought standing and smiling to conceal the rage that was festering inside him. He walked over and patted the Drev on the arm, “Don’t worry, by this time tomorrow you will be all sorted out, and all of us can go happily on our merry way.”

He slipped past her and walked into the hall chin down eyes narrowed,  hands balled into fists slightly at his sides.

By this time tomorrow they could begin dealing with the traitors, whoever they may be.

[charliedawn]

Imagine being the only angel that still believes in Lucifer's redemption part 2

https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/646303435890769920/imagine-being-the-only-angel-that-likes-lucifer 1st part

Lucifer doesn't know what to do..He had woken up to a bunch of children poking him with little sticks, with no sign of you or Gabriel. He had no way to communicate with you and was feeling that the gates of Hell had closed their doors..He couldn't enter. Gabriel had made sure to block all of his usual accesses and even Mazikeen couldn't enter. He sighs loudly out of frustration before joining his hands and looking up, wondering if you could still hear him.

" I don't know if it will work but..I miss you, angel..I know that you thought you were doing good in replacing me, but I..I'm afraid that your decision may have altered things too much. I do not hear the souls of all those who should be suffering in Hell, and I feel empty without you by my side..You don't belong down there. It isn't your cross to bare.."

He takes a drag of his cigaret and let's out a puff of smoke before chuckling bitterly to himself.

" You know..I've noticed something. During your last visit, you said that you loved me at least 3 times..But I never thought about saying it back..In fact, I don't remember ever saying it back..Not once in 50 times you decided to come visit me.."

He seems to freeze for a moment at the realization before hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to hide his tears from the world as the guilt takes over him.

" I'm such an idiot, angel..You must feel so lost and confused right now.."

He tries to keep his cool, but it is becoming harder and harder. His hands are shaking and he feels the tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. Even his tears sting as he thinks of you, ruling Hell and scared of being caught. The thought only making him grip his hair tightly and groan in frustration. Chloe had tried to cheer him up the best she could, but..

"..She isn't you.."

He finally mumbles to himself and suddenly, his grief turns into rage as he remembers that you had defied him..HIM ! He was supposed to be the one keeping Hell, you had disobeyed his direct order, as if what he had said was of no importance..You are mad..There is no other explanation..

" I won't leave you there ! You hear me ! Can't you see the state in which I am because you're gone ?! My little angel..Your trick won't last long..And then ? What will you do ? Any demon could get their hands on you and..?!"

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as thousands of thoughts of what those creatures would do to you..He had seen what they were capable of, and many wouldn't bat an eye before dismembering you for their own sadistic pleasure..The thought alone makes him shiver and turn his eyes red.

" If you can hear me, angel. Run. Get out of there. I don't want you to see to which extent this place is depraved, to which extent humans are. I don't want to see the faith you have for them falter..nor your love for me.."

He pauses before admitting that last part, knowing that that was his own selfish desire. He sighs loudly, he needed to get out of here and teleports himself to the nearby beach to take a big inspiration of the salty air and relaxes before continuing with a heavy heart, knowing that it would hurt you if you heard his next words.

" We should have never met, Y/N..I tend to destroy everything that I touch..You were only an innocent little angel and we both knew that, one day, this relationship would lead to something disastrous..I'm so sorry for not having reacted sooner..Dad was right..It would have been better for me to erase all of your memories, instead of keeping the first ones. They only paint a very different version of me..If you come back, I promise to give you everything back. I know that some of the memories will make you hate me, or even feel disgusted..But, that way, you will finally see the monster that you're trying to help.."

He lowers his head and nearly jumps out of his seat when he hears a voice behind him.

" Talking to someone ?"

He turns around swiftly to see you standing there with a small smile playing on your lips.

" Aren't you tired of praying someone that can't hear you ? It's been 5 years, brother..She can't hear you. She's been ignoring my calls as well.."

He only groans in annoyance when he recognizes the condescending voice of his twin and turns towards the counter as fast as he had turned around. But, unlike what he had previously thought, Michael doesn't leave and sits next to him, asking a glass of wine to Mazikeen that first glances at Lucifer for approval, which his finally gives with a slight nod of his head.

" So..What brings you to my charming little establishment, brother?"

Lucifer asks when Michael has his drink, that he gulps in one go to Lucifer's astonishment. Well..So much for the vow of sobriety..

" I know that you know where she is, Lucifer..Even though you won't admit it. An angel can't just disappear without you knowing something about it..I won't ask you where she is, I just wanna know if she's alright?"

Lucifer would have normally made a joke about him becoming attached to you, gladly invited him to leave or ignored him all together..But, surprisingly, he didn't have the will to and he sounded so genuine in his worry that Lucifer has to admit with a loud sigh.

" I don't know, Michael..As you could have guessed, every communication with her has been answered by a deafening silence..Wherever she is, she doesn't want to be found.."

Michael mimics his sigh and, for a moment, the same expression of worry and silent contemplation appear on both their faces as they stare far ahead at an invisible spot in front of them..Angels were archangels charge, not important enough to inform Father himself. But, still..Michael couldn't get you out of his head..Not that angels didn't frequently disappear, either slayed by some demon or wanted to become some guardian angel of Earth..But, this was you they were talking about. You had never left this long before and were too weak to be of any particular interest for any demon..However, that didn't mean he didn't worry about you. Where have you gone to? Knowing that he wouldn't probably find any answer with Lucifer, he decides to stand up and take his leave. However, to his surprise, Lucifer asked as he looks at him with a small mocking smile.

" You know that your an idiot, right?"

Michael frowns in incomprehension and also a bit vexed by Lucifer's insult. Lucifer that picks on his confusion as to what he was talking about, adds while pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

" You've had so many occasions to tell her how you truly felt..But each time, you were too much of a scaredy cat to do anything about it. Even when I was up there, it was so painful to watch. It's funny how we were born with the same face, at the exact same time and place..But, we are so different..I immediately knew what I felt for her the moment our eyes met, and I didn't waste my time like you did.."

Michael doesn't turn around, he only turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Lucifer's face when he replies.

" Is that so? Then, tell me, how did that work out for you, brother? She would have done anything for you, and you still find ways to hurt her..How many times must you fall before you realize that she is the only one to have ever truly and unconditionally believed in you?"

Lucifer doesn't respond and Michael doesn't wait for and answer as he walks towards the door..Fools. They were both fools in love with the same damn angel. Unaware to the both of them that someone was spying on their discussion..

" Master ?"

You had been so concentrated on listening to the discussion that you had failed to hear that the demon besides you was talking.

" Mmh?"

You mutter at the end, clearly not interested in whatever he was saying. However, the demon doesn't seem that surprised, Lucifer surely wasn't the most attentive angel after all..

" What do you think we should do with the rest of the murderers on level 4?"

Before you could truly think about the answer, you say out loud.

" Oh..Uh..Forgive them?"

The six eyes of the demon widen at the same time and he quizzically looks at you with confusion.

" My lord?"

The demon seems to not comprehend your demand and you want to face-palm yourself so hard..How did Luci ever managed to know what to do?!

" I mean torture them! Why are you coming to me for that, don't you know how to do your own job? Must I send you in the pit of eternal fire for you to finally understand not to disturb me?!"

If you were being honest? You loved pretending to be Lucifer. He was free and spent most of his time just barking orders on his throne. Since the humans were all sinners down there, nobody cared to do paperwork and everybody was obeying you..While in Heaven, you were just an angel, not a high-ranked one either..The only advantage you had was that power, the power to shapeshift. You usually used it to prank people of joke light-heartedly while mimicking archangel Gabriel when he would come and lecture you..Most of the other angels never understood you, and maybe this is why you had never assigned a higher post in the hierarchy? Not that Gabriel would ever let you become an archangel..You smile at the man that you had learned to consider as a big brother and a friend..It was thanks to him that you had met Luci. One day, as you were welcoming a new soul, a man that you recognized as archangel Michael came to supervise your work. To say that you had been stressed would be a huge understatement. Of course, he couldn't exactly fire you, but you knew that angels could be sent to Hell to take care of the bad souls..or worse. You remember Gabriel telling you that archangels, unlike common angels had the power to "kill" angels, or make them disappear anyway..This is why, you had decided to be on your best behavior that day, however you hadn't counted on Luci being there. You didn't ask when, in the middle of the meeting, Michael had excused himself and left, only to reappear a few moments later with a huge grin..

" So, how's the angel business doing?"

You forced yourself to smile and look back at him to list him a bunch of names you had processed that very day. Many angels did not see the point of your job..However, Luci was different. As soon as you looked up at him, his smile faltered and he frowned, as if he knew that you weren't genuinely smiling.

" Stop that."

He had ordered you and you had looked confused at the time.

" That. Don't smile..You look fake.."

You knew better than disobey an angel's direct command and stopped smiling.

" Does my appearance displease you, archangel Michael ?"

You asked, wondering if it was your face that was not to his taste or your whole appearance in itself ? He shook his head negatively before turning around and sighing.

" I thought you would be more interesting..A shame. From what I heard, you like to think outside of the box and make sure that everybody gets to laugh in Heaven..However, I've been following you since this morning, and you haven't succeeded in making me crack up even once..Care to explain why ?"

His accusative tone caught you by surprise, the great Michael wanted you to..make him laugh? That was unexpected..But, since he asked..A true smirk appears on your face as you think of some human joke that may earn a reaction from the archangel.

" Okay..Let's see..Do you promise not to get mad ?"

He arked an eyebrow, intrigued before smirking.

" Depends.."

Well, here was nothing..You had very few information on mankind and the future..Only Father had this sort of information. However, you all had been given the book of Truth that guided humanity..including the passage which talked about his son falling and being crucified to save humanity..You knew better than to joke about that, but what could you do to try to make the great Michael to laugh?!

" Why doesn't Jesus trust mankind ?"

The eyes of Lucifer widened, he hadn't expected that..

" Why ?"

You looked around, as if you were afraid that someone might hear you before whispering.

"He's afraid he'll get double crossed.."

At first, Luci stayed still, but soon his mouth etched into a grin and his eyes brightened with a certain amount of amusement.

" Ah ! I think that joke nailed it!"

His answer made you blank for a moment, but soon, you felt excited. When you had told your joke to Gab, he had simply sighed in utter despair, quickly reprimanding you on how this was no laughing matter..However, knowing that Michael could understand dark humour was the best surprise you'd had for centuries of existence.

" Listen, I have to go..But, keep up the good work and I'll be sure to check in once or twice.."

You smiled genuinely and nodded vividly, impatient to see him again.

" Ah! Here it is! You have a rather beautiful smile, angel..Try to use this one more often.."

You blushed at the compliment and Lucifer winked at you before walking away. Was that just your imagination or did the archangel Michael gave you a compliment ?! You squealed and let yourself do a little victory dance, interrupted by someone coughing loudly behind you. You turned around to see Michael standing there and blushed even more as he eyed you up and down with an amused smile.

" May I know what inspired that sudden little demonstration of happiness, angel Y/N ?" " You decided to ignore his question and ask teasingly instead.

" Did you perhaps come to hear one or two more of my jokes, archangel Michael ? Couldn't get enough ?"

Suddenly, archangel Michael walked straight towards you and lean in so close that you were starting to wonder if you hadn't made a mistake..He arked an eyebrow at you before replying quizzically.

" Weren't you informed that I was supposed to see you today ? The inspection ?"

Your eyes widened, stammering your answer.

" B..But you already d..did ? No?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise before sighing loudly, understanding what had happened.

" You must have met my brother..Lucifer can be a little eccentric. Do not mind him. I hope that he wasn't too much of a hassle ?"

You turned around to hide your embarrassment, as you had confused Michael with his brother ! However, Michael didn't seem to really mind and only sighs before looking at the files you had made on the advantages of laughter, which earned you a small smile from him.

" I must admit, we were impressed by your work..Especially, the "twin prank". Me and Lucifer had a lot of fun in trying it on the other archangels..and even Father who laughed when we both started dressing as each other and walking around to see who would recognize us..But, what was the funniest, I must admit, was your own reaction. You created that idea, and yet had trouble recognizing it..Wouldn't that mean that we outsmarted you?"

Michael looks up at you with a mischievous grin and you can't help but smile back. At last, you had found other players among all of the archangels..Lucifer and Michael, huh ? Well played..Well played, gentlemen..

" No..Not at all..It just means that the rematch will be sweeter for me.."

You start shifting to their appearance and take one step towards Michael with a daring smile.

" See, archangel. When you try to prank the prankster, you must always expect the game to go on. Now, good luck to differentiate me to your brother.."Am I him ?" You'll both ask yourselves and I will be enjoying immensely your confusion as you both lose your heads.."

Michael, far from feeling threatened, smiles at you..You were different from the other angels he had ever encountered, that was for sure..He suddenly tookyou by the waist and watched as you blushed intensely. He then lowers his face to whisper in your ear. " I've got other ways to find out if your my brother or not.." You both hear a chuckle behind you and and look at Lucifer, smirking widely as he looked over the both of you. This is how you three had bonded: over a prank. And since then, you had never left their sides..Or at least until Lucifer's great fall..

The scared voice of the demon besides you gets you back to reality.

" No! Of course not my lord! I'm sorry..Please, forgive me..The level 4 is overcrowded and we must find a new place to put the new arrivals. Maybe if your majesty could create more space in this area?"

One of tree things that you had not predicted however is that Lucifer was a being capable of manipulating Hell's pit, as he was the one that had created it. Whereas your power only consisted in copying the physical aspects of a being, not its powers..

" I..I.."

You try to find an excuse, but nothing comes to mind, until a hand puts itself on your shoulder.

" No problem. I'm sure the lord is just feeling a bit lost after his long stay in the pitiful human world.."

You look up to find a demon with half of his face burnt down to a crisp and who looks at you with big green eyes. Somehow, he seemed far more intimidating than the other one and also intelligent as his eyes seem to pierce right through you. You shiver at his devilish smirk and quickly stand up to face him, in order to not make yourself even more suspicious.

" And who are you to tell me if I'm lost or not?! Who even gave you the permission to touch me, hmm?"

The demon suddenly takes a step backwards in surprise and kneels on one knee in front of you, his head lowered in respect.

" My apologies, my king..I didn't think that you would find my gesture so inappropriate. I am Azrath. Your second-in-command and faithful servant.."

Perfect ! You had just gave away that you had no clue that the man in front of you was your second-in-command ! You take a profound breath before taking back your emotionless mask and smile.

" I know who you are, Azrath..Your presence is just unexpected..What are you doing here ?"

The demon stands up again and you suddenly are very aware of how tall he was compared to you..His pale face contrasting with his half eaten half worm-infested chest. You have to look away in order for him not to see your eyes prickled with tears at the stench. Not that Hell smelt good in general, but the throne was so high above everything else that it was bearable, which you couldn't say for the walking corpse next to you..

" I just wanted to see if the rumors were true..You did come back.."

He seems almost disappointed for a second, but quickly composes himself and then gives you something that make your eyes widen as big as saucers..hearts..bloody hearts !

" Also, I took the liberty to gather the fresh hearts of the new arrivals..Just as you like them. Still beating."

Lord..Help me. You could see them moving and it takes all of your self-control not to throw up your own heart at the sight..However, you can feel it beating more widely in your chest..Even though you technically didn't have one, the feeling of pure horror conjured one..You force yourself to smile up at the demon and take the bag, trying your hardest not to look back at them..

" Thank you ! This is...lovely..."

This time, both demons seem to be taken aback by your words and you frown, what have you said this time?! The less intelligent of the two, noticing your confusion, takes it upon himself to answer your silent question.

" My lord..You've never "thanked" anyone before..You even forbid anyone to say it in Hell 1000 years ago.."

You understand and sweat profusely at the realization..The other demon remains silent, but the way he was staring at you suspiciously was enough for you to have doubts as to whether he was starting to understand what was going on..You had to do something, quick. You grit your teeths and yell as loud and as scary as you could.

" I am tired of this! Now, I've been gone for a while and wish to be left alone with my thoughts! Would it be possible or is it too much to ask?!"

Both demons fly away and you let out a sigh of relief. You look around and your eyes fall on a little demon that was flying by, transporting some letters. You frown, wondering what it was doing until you notice that it is going towards the gates. It must be a messenger! You summon paper and start writing a letter to Gabriel and call the little demon.

" You ! Send this to archangel Gabriel !"

The little she-demon quivers in fear, but doesn't dare refuse and takes the letter to the only communication link between Hell and Heaven. The tall and lanky skeleton that had talked to you earlier was sure to become a problem..He was far too smart for his own good..You would have to find a way to make him believe you somehow..You sigh loudly in frustration before running you hand through your...his hair..Suddenly, you smell something rotten just behind you and don't have the time to turn around before a dark chuckle sounds nears your ear.

" Archangel Gabriel, huh ?"

Your eyes widen and when you turn around, you find yourself in front of the same clever demon from earlier. His eyes seem brighter somehow and he is covered in..You have to muffle your mouth not to let out a scream or even vomit at the guts hanging from his shoulders and limbs..Oh my Goodness..The demon seems to perceive your uneasiness and hangs his head on one side, wondering what was wrong..You close your eyes and, after a few minute, open them again to see the monster actually smirking mockingly at you.

" What is the matter, Lucifer ? Did the human world affect you so much that you can't even stomach the sight of blood anymore ?"

He laughs at your horrified expression and suddenly takes you by the arm to yank you harshly forward, making you nearly fall from the throne.

" What are you doing?! Unhand me!"

You scream, but he only does a crooked smile before asking, almost expectantly.

" Aren't you going to use your wings, "my lord"?"

The way he had mockingly pronounced the two last words make you quickly understant that he was on to your masquerade and you glare at him.

" I won't let a pitiful demon like you intimidate me..I am your king and I am to he respected as such!"

However, far from feeling threatened, the demon only gets out something that you had forgotten about..the sword of Lucifer..

" The sword of Hell..Only demons or lord Lucifer can wield it..If any other etheral being were to try to use it, they would fall to the core of Hell to burn there for the rest of eternity..And one of the only weapons capable to kill even angels..Now, tell me..Still going to pretend to be our great master?"

You know that what he is saying is true..The sword is as sharp and bloody as it was the day Lucifer got rejected from Heaven..You didn't know what to do, so you admit reluctantly.

" I am angel Y/N, caretaker of humans joy and laughter of sector 45."

You were sure that he would pierce your body with the sword as soon as he would know, but the pain never comes and you open your eyes to see that the demon was now facing you. His wide green eyes were dancing around their sockets and his smile goes from ear to ear, showing his sharp and yellow teeths. He runs his tongue over them and has something in his eyes that makes you shiver in fear..hunger. He eyes you up and down and laughs darkly as you try to get away from him. However, you slip and fall. Not having any choice, you open your wings and all of the demons turn their heads towards you, the blinding light catching their attention. As soon as they see you, they all screech or roar in your direction and fly up in the sky to attack you. You start flying towards the gates, followed closely by waves of demons and Azrath that yells at the guards to cut the entrance. The two huge demons at the doors try to catch you with their bare hands, as if you were some kind of mosquitoe and you have to do multiple spins in the air to escape them. You know that their must be an entrance somewhere since the little demon messengers were able to pass. However, you didn't plan on the said entrance to be tiny orifices, big enough for the little demons to go through, but not you. You turn around to see the wave of demons coming closer..Well, looks like Luci was right..You hadn't totally thought that through..You would probably die here. You close your eyes and smile. At least, you had bought some time for Lucifer to live as he wanted among the humans for 5 whole years..However, suddenly, you feel a hand around your wrist. You open your eyes to see Azrath, dragging you towards the gates where he gets out the sword of Lucifer and cuts you with it. The burn is insufferable and you scream in pain as Azrath forces you to put your injured hand against the door.

" What are you doing?!"

You scream incredulously at his strange behavior, but he only lets out a spine-chilling groan before answering you.

" My great escape, sweetheart ! And if you want to leave, I would advise you to do as I say and shut up!"

You open your eyes wide as he starts pushing against the door, trying to get it open. You look behind you and see the demons flying in circle in the sky, wondering what their boss was doing..

" W..Why are you doing this?!"

You finally ask and, just as the door starts bulging, he answers you with terrifying smirk.

" I'm going to get back Lucifer..I've had more than enough of this place and I'm sure that if he is so reluctant to come home..then that means the human world must be a very nice place. Now, are you going to stay here with the nice little other flying monstrosities, or are you going to follow me, angel Y/N?"

He extends his hand towards you and look back at the screaming harpies and horned devils flying above your heads. You finally sigh and take his hand. As soon as your hand in his, his grin only widens and he runs outside, followed by you. You close your eyes and try to communicate with Lucifer.

" I'm sorry, Lucifer..I've failed."

On Earth, Lucifer was sitting besides Trixie that had grown into quite the young lady, as you had predicted..He finds himself smiling as the door opens and he sees Chloe come in with a loud sigh.

" Today was absolutely crazy at work..There has been some calls all over the cities..missing cats. Can you believe it?! Cats?! What are we?! The Cat Police?!"

The girl and Lucifer look up at her from the sofa while Chloe arks an eyebrow at them.

" What?"

They both look at each other with a serious expression, both nodding understandingly at each other and smile widely before looking back at Chloe with their hands joined together in a gun shape.

" You are under catrest !"

" Paws where I can see them, detective !"

They both yell at the same time and Chloe snorts..Of course those two would do cat puns..typical. However, she acts her part and raises her hands in the air.

" Oh no! You got me!"

They all smile, all the sion having left the room..But then, a loud caught catches their attention.

" Sorry to interrupt this..whatever this is..But, I must talk to Lucifer."

Here was Gabriel, in their living room..after 5 years of absence and Lucifer's smile automatically goes downwards as his eyes take a bright red tint. Chloe, sensing the danger, urges Trixie to go in her room. As soon as the girl is upstairs, Lucifer is quick to react and jumps on Gab to choke the angel.

" You! How dare you show your face again?!"

He shouts angrily, his eyes flashing a bright red. It takes Chloe to grab him by the shirt to yank him off the angel that stands up again to answer him between each pant.

" It's..It's Y/N..I..I made a mistake.."

Lucifer growls at him and responds sarcastically.

" You think?!"

The etheral being looks up at Lucifer with, for the first time in ages, an apologetic glance.

" It wasn't meant to last that long..You were supposed to get back down there a year later..But, she closed the gates, Lucifer. I couldn't come in myself. She closed the gates to anyone but the souls and now, I'm afraid that she may be in trouble, because of me."

Lucifer, far from feeling any compassion towards the angel, is bewildered by his apology and smiles in astonishment at his brother's admittance.

" Oh well..My heart bleeds for you, Gab..It really does. Not even recognizing your own brother must be terrible.."

Lucifer doesn't wait for an answer before pushing Chloe to the side on the sofa before punching Gabriel in the nose. Gabriel stumbles back with the force of the impact and raises his hand in surrender and repeats.

"I know that you are angry, brother..But, I'm not joking, Lucifer. She's in trouble."

Lucifer, astonished by the nerve of this angel that dared come to him for help, can't help but replying ironically.

" Oh! You're not joking?! Well good..Because neither am I !"

His eyes lighten up in orange and he nearly growls at Gab that gets out the letter you had send him to extend it towards Lucifer.

" She wrote me this..One of the demons is on to her..And, as I said earlier, I can't go in there. Not only did she close the doors, but you know as well as I do that I can't go in there without Father's permission.."

Lucifer snickers at Gabriel's pathetic excuse and shakes his head.

" No. I am not going to read that. Fuck off. She chose to disobey..She chose to replace me and she told me herself! She finds my job "extremely complaisant and entertaining". Even if I were to go there, she wouldn't want my help..Plus, as you said, she closed the gates! Only the spirits are allowed in..How do you suppose I get in?!"

However, it's Chloe that reacts first and grabs the letter out of Gab's hands to give it to Lucifer with resolution.

" Open it, Lucifer. You still are the king of Hell! Act like it!"

His eyes widen at Chloe's sudden agressive reply and his voice softens as he looks down at the woman and finally opens the letter to read it.

" Gabriel, my brother and my friend..It has been 5 years now that I've sealed the gates of Hell. I know you must be pretty furious, as our deal ended 4 years ago..However, I couldn't deny Lucifer of his happiness. I know that you can't understand my decision, nor why I did it..But, it's not that bad. I succeeded in blending in among the demons. I think Lucifer would be proud. However, I wanted to know if you could please enlighten me on one of the demons that just arrived in Hell. His name is.."

Lucifer's eyes widen at the familiar name and he looks up at Gabriel with shock..The name of his second-in-command was written on there, but he had deserted eons ago..Why come back now? It didn't make any sense, unless..His jaw clench and he fixes the letter intensely..Unless he had found his sword..as he had asked of him..And if it was the case, then his little angel had some serious problems on her hands..However, before he could voice his concern, he feels a vivid pain in his chest that cuts his breath off..He can feel that you're in danger somehow..But how to find you?! He groans in agony, trying to think of how to find you..until he remembers that there had been mysterious disappearances of cats in the neighborhood. He looks up at Chloe that is by his side, supporting him as he doubles on the floor in pain.

" The..cats.."

He tries to utter, but Chloe doesn't understand and leans in to have a better hearing.

" The cats..Where were they going? Where did the largest number disappear?"

" Around the old church..Why?"

He looks at Gab that instantly understands and nods before disappearing. Asrath was also known as the master of cats, this is why it had been easier for him to search for the sword undetected..He just had to believe that Gab would arrive in time. Chloe frowns at him and asks, bewildered.

" Well?! Are you going to stay there?? Go save her !"

He looks up at her with widened eyes, astonished that she would ever suggest it.

" I can't..I can't leave you, Chloe.."

Chloe takes a big breath before looking up at Lucifer with a small sad smile and caressing his cheek tenderly.

" Go, Lucifer..She needs you. We'll be fine.."

He finally nods and smiles up at her before kissing her on the forehead.

" I love you.."

She smiles with tears in her eyes and forces herself to nod.

" I know.."

And with that confirmation, Lucifer disappears as well, appearing near the old church and the pain worsens with every step he takes. When he enters the said church, it is filled with cats and he sees Gab, fighting Azrath. He looks around to spot you huddled near the cross, your face hidden behind your Y/C hair and then..he sees the blood. You were bleeding from your upper arm and he sees red. His body feels hot and overwhelmed by a new-found energy. He looks up at Azrath that was handling HIS sword against Gabriel that was struggling with fighting back. He walks towards them and as soon as Azrath notices him, he smirks and gets rid of Gabriel by throwing him against the cross that breaks in two. Gab wants to get up, but he feels a pain to his side and sees that Azrath had succeeded in wounding him..In normal circumstances, his wound would close itself immediately. However, this mighty weapon was one conceived especially to kill archangels, and Lucifer had made it with his own hands..The wound would take longer to heal and he felt himself fall unconscious. You whimper and try to help Gab by applying pressure on the bleeding wound, but Azrath notices you and stops you. You back away in fear, your wide eyes full of terror and Lucifer then sees why he had felt your pain..Azrath had carved an upside-down cross on your forehead, sending him a direct invitation..His blood is boiling in his veins as he sees what the vile creature had done to his poor angel, while Azrath seems proud of himself as he takes you by the hair and yanks you forward so you fall to your knees at his feet. It takes you a few minutes to look up, but when you do, his heart stops. In your eyes, the innocence and joy were gone..replaced by unbidden fear. He tries to help you up, but you scurry backwards and his eyes prickle with tears, as you were now afraid of even him.

" Oh..angel.."

He utters apologetically at you before glaring up at Azrath that frowns in incomprehension.

" Why are you looking at me like that?! She's an angel!"

He stands up and Azrath takes a step back as he senses the radiating rage of Lucifer that walks calmly towards him and extends his hand towards him expectantly.

" The sword. Give me the sword."

Azrath takes back his blank expression and shakes his head negatively before looking at the bloody sword in his hands.

" I'm sorry, Master..But you know I can't do that..You need to come back with me. Your kingdom needs you and this sword is the only thing hat can force you to come back.."

Lucifer sighs, knowing that he wouldn't give him without a fight. He suddenly tries to surprise him by sending him a punch, but Azrath, having premeditated it, uses the sword as a shield. But Lucifer, far from being bothered, takes the sword with his bare hands before kicking Azrath backwards. Azrath growls at him, showing his sharp teeths and snake-like tongue. He hisses, his voice dripping with venom.

" You really are going to fight me for her?! She's only an angel! The enemy!"

Lucifer glances back at you and smiles reassuringly at you before looking back at Azrath with eyes glowing in the dark.

" No.."

Azrath seems to be relieved by his answer, but it quickly fades out when Lucifer takes his original form and shouts between gritted teeths.

"..I'm going to kill you!"

Lucifer couldn't just control Azrath, he was too powerful for that..and had always been by his side since his great fall. Azrath closes his eyes and inhales deeply before looking up at Lucifer with his bright green eyes in which his pupils turn to slits and raises his hands in the air.

" As you wish, Master..Know that I never wanted this.."

Suddenly, the cats surround him and cover him from head to toe, melting into a sort of black armor. The great armor of Azrath. Great..Lucifer cracks his head to the side and grins up at his ex second-in-command.

" Always the attention seeker, aren't you Azrath?"

Azrath would have only ignored his comment normally, but this time, his comment earns him a slight chuckle, knowing that one of them would die tonight.

" You know me, Lucifer..I guess I took some things from you.."

After this exchange of ironic comebacks, they both become serious and in a flash, they are both at each other's throats. Azrath bites his shoulder hard and Lucifer slashes his face. Both of them are panting, but in their eyes the same fire burning bright..Suddenly, someone crashes inside through the window and interposes himself between the two demons.

" What is going on here?! What are you two doing here?! Hell is chaos and I find you both here?!"

Michael booms in obvious discontent, not having noticed the sword in Azrath's hands yet..Azrath takes it as an opportunity and raises his sword to strike him down.

" This is for you, Lucifer!"

He brings it down, but you use your last strength to stand up and stand in front of Michael. The three men are shocked and Michael is the first to react, he gets out his lance and decapitates Azrath in one swift blow. As for Lucifer, he quickly kneels besides you and takes you in his arms. He looks at his hand in horror, recognizing the smell and color of blood. He shakes you, trying to wake you up while crying out loud.

" No. No! No! No! Angel! Stay with me! You hear me?! Stay with me!"

He sobs and gets the hair out of your face, cradling your face kissing your face over and over again, hoping for your (Y/C) eyes to open again..Michael, after having made sure that Gabriel was alright, turns towards you and, for the first time in forever, feels tears prickle in his eyes at the realization. He falls to his knees by your side and gently pets the top of your head. He then looks up at the sky and asks for a miracle, begging his Father to bring you back..

" Dad! Please! Do not punish her even more! Please, bring her back!"

But his prayers are unanswered and the only one who seems to be affected by his words is Gab that gasps loudly as he wakes up. He looks at his wound and smiles as he sees that there is nothing left..However, when he sees your cold body on the ground, his smile turns into a pained grimace, his whole face twisting in sadness.

" Why? She saved Michael..She saved your son!"

Lucifer shouts, his eyes pointed towards the sky, not expecting an answer.

" Because, this is Michael's punition.."

They all look towards the direction of the voice, their eyes widening as they see Gab, his kind eyes looking above all of them with a numb stare, having finally understood why Father hadn't said or done anything.

" Michael, you really thought Y/N wouldn't know how you felt ? Your jealousy of your own brother..Jealousy that only grew to win the love of one being and threatened to destroy Heaven and Hell..The very same being that only wished for you two to be happy..She tried to make things right and replace you, Lucifer..Father gave her what she wanted, and what you both feared more than anything..She knew the price, but she asked HIM for your salvation and redemption."

Lucifer and Michael both stand up at the same time and open their mouths to voice their disapproval and utter outrage when Gabriel interrupts them, wanting only one thing now.

" Let's go home.."

He takes your body and looks at both brothers with tearful eyes.

" I hope you will be able to appreciate the second chance she has just both given you..You are both free."

And with those last words, he flies up with your body in his arms. Lucifer and Michael both look at each other and, without them knowing why, they both start tearing up. However, Lucifer forces himself to talk through his sobs.

" We can't..We can't leave her..She didn't deserve this..I know what punishment looks like, and she didn't deserve this! She didn't deserve to be sacrificed for our sakes!"

Michael, for once, agrees with his brother and extends his hand towards his brother.

" I know we had our differences in the past, brother..But, we need to show Dad that we are more! That we can be more than just hateful beings, if we want her back..Are you with me?"

Lucifer nods, and for the first in the History of the World, the Good and the Bad were to become allies in order to save you..

You open your eyes wide and straighten up to look around you, frowning in confusion at your surroundings. You were in the middle of a luxuriant forest with tall trees and bright purple fruits..Where are you? And most of all, how are you alive?! You look at your stomach to see that your wound has completely disappeared.

" How are you, my darling?"

You look up with astonishment as you see a tall woman with a bright green dress making her way to you. Her smile and welcoming expression make you think that she is not a threat, but you still have to ask.

" Hum..Thank you for saving me but, who are you? And where am I?"

She only chuckles at your question, as if it was the funniest joke.

" I'm sorry, my dear..Those are very good questions but, it's been a while since I've got some company so..hearing another human voice is quite exciting.."

You don't reply, waiting for her to answer your questions, which she does and you whiten at her answers.

" My name is Lilith..And this is my prison. I would say that it is the garden..but I've been locked up in here for so long that I can't remember much."

You had heard about Lilith, the first woman, the mistake, the mother of monsters..She had died so many millenias ago. And if you were with her, then that only meant one thing..

" Welcome to the Other Place! The place where angels and demons come when they die ! Of course, as not many angels or demons truly die..They stay here until Father needs them again..Come. You're the first one to get here since a few centuries..I'm sure you've got many stories to share."

Lilith extends her hands towards you with a wide smile and you look at her hand hesitantly for a few seconds before finally taking it with a small sigh.

" Yes. I guess I do.."

[aestheticaxolotl]

V.I.L.E Headcanons

- Graham “Crackle” Calloway grew up in the poorer slims of Sydnee Australia where his parents struggled on a day to day basis to provide food for their 4 kids, Graham, being the oldest son felt the absolute need to help his parents provide for his three younger siblings. Doubling down in school, and getting the best grades he could (B’s and low A’s) and then diving into work as soon as he got out. -Graham started with small odd jobs until he got a part time gig with a rather cranky old electrician who had no love for anyone in his life. But he took Graham on as an apprentice because the stupid kid wouldn’t leave him alone. To his chagrin, the kid took to the job like a house on fire. This became important when he joine V.I.L.E -Tigress came from a troubled home to say the least. Her mom was an alcoholic and her dad was a blue-collared working class man who would gamble and chase after his dreams while squandering all the families money She resented her parents for these reasons and acted out as much as she possibly could, whether by robbing small stores or beating up younger kids on the play ground

-She started out trying to make a quick buck to help her momma pay the bills, not because she was showing kindness to her mom, but because the land lord had threatened to kick them out one too many times, and kept making lewd comments and suggestions that even Tigress would not allow her mother to take.

-El Topo’s story isn’t the happiest, seeing as his mother moved into America when he was very young, unable to afford to bring her husband and son with her at the time. Of course, El Topo’s father was not keen on being left behind and took his 12 year old son, attempting to smuggle him into America. Sadly, this would not end well seeing as El Topo’s father was shot and killed, and he was placed in foster care, unable to contact his mother.

-El Topo got out of the Foster care system when he was 18 and was homeless for a long time. He lived on the streets in Georgia, the last place his mom was having known working. He did everything he could to find his mom and was devastated to learn that his mother had moved to New York, remarried and had a daughter.

-Le Chevre’s mother died giving birth to him in Paris, France. His father being left alone to raise their one and only son, they had married young and had a baby younger, leaving the young father devastated and entirely loving of his young son. Le Chevre’s young life was full of music and love. His father worked as a caretaker in a French Theater, working up with the lights and the set pieces.    -Young Le Chevre wasn’t as fascinated with the acting as he was with being high up and above the actors, it gave him a feeling of power and meaning while his father proposed that he take lessons to play instruments for the plays. HE did for about a week to please his hard working father, but took the gold star in thievery. To this day he still leaves large amounts of money on his’s father’s doorsteps as thanks for such a wonderful upbriging.

-Dash Harber grew up with a love of fashion and the stylistic life of the rich and famous. His parents, both very wealthy and distant from him, showered their son with gifts and money for doing nothing but existing. His parents ended up sending him away at the age of 15 (At his request) to his aunt “Cookie Booker” so that he could have a better, proper upbringing. 

-Through his ‘Aunt Cookie’, he met the Dear Countess Cleo, who he took a major liking to the Countess, having a childhood crush on her. Cleo found the young gentlemen quiet endearing and took him under her wing, giving him the life he had know that he’d desired at a very young age. This came to bit him in the but when he started working for V.I.L.E. His parent identifying him during a caper and he had to go into hiding for quite a while. (His parents minds were wiped after this incident, as far as they are concerned now, they never had kids).

-Paperstar’s mother was a prostitute in Japan, and gave birth to her from an unknown father. Paperstar was devoted to her mother, even if she was not devoted to her daughter. She was usually there when her mother brought a man home, covering her ears when ever, what her mother called ‘Business work’, started.

-Young Paperstar started stealing from the men who her mother brought home when she was seven, doing this for many years before one man noticed and turned both Paperstar and her mother into the police. This enraged her mother and she disowned Paperstar, leaving the girl alone and vengeful, only wanting to look out for herself. (She might have killed her mom too, I’m still thinking on that one)

-Mimebomb was born in Ireland with their twin brother. When they were young their parents moved them to France. This is where they saw their first ever Mime, their mother had stopped at a shop and 3 year old Mimebomb had wandered off and stopped to watched a man with paint on his face act on a street corner. They realized they were lost and the Mime just... Scooped them up to help them find their mom and twin brother. This REALLY enforced in them that Mimes weren’t scary or freaky. (Their WHOLE family disagrees to this to this day)

-Spoiler, Mimebomb grew obsessed with Mimes and this really worried their parents. They sent him to a Psychologist, one Professor Maelstrom who was doing freelance work. Maelstrom found the phenomena rather interesting and kept track of Mimebomb for a very long time, it was Maelstrom who brought Mimebomb to V.I.L.E and showed them what their true calling was.

-Boris and Vlad.... I don’t have much for them but what I do have is rather... Boris and Vlad grew up in a very unwelcoming community. Russia at the time was very hostile towards outsiders and while their parents (They are not related, family friends in my eyes) had both of them in Russia, they were still not well accepted by their community, often bullied and beaten bloody by other kids, who forced them to clean up the mess after they finished beating them.

-This horrible childhood instilled a rather off form of PTSD and OCD in both of them that leads them to see every mess that a V.I.L.E operative made was something they had to clean up. Somehow, it was their fault and they had to fix and clean and pretend nothing ever happened.

-Cookie Booker is the Aunt of Dash Haber, she ADORES her Nephew and spoiled him rotten when he was a child, basically taking him in when he asked her too. She took great care to raise him the best she could, never having been able to have children herself, an event that let to her husband leaving her and marrying another woman.

-Cookie was also the woman who introduced Countess Cleo to Professor Maelstorm, a very monumental occasion in V.I.L.E history.

-Neal the Eel was just Neal as a kid. His mom and dad were performers in a Circus, a Magician and his Assistant. He used to adore the circus and wanted to be part of it as a contortionist/escape artist. He was bullied for his hypermobility ( similar to double-jointedness, but if it is progressively more serious it can create more problems for someone.) Causing him to end up resenting his upbringing and parents.

When Neal was 16 he began to break IN to prisons and then BREAK BACK OUT with a TON of the criminals inside. This quickly put him on V.I.L.E’s radar and they decided that they really wanted to recruit him. They made the offer and he vowed that he would never be seen as a joke like he was with the circus.

-MooseBoy was not the brightest kid in school, often picked on for being slow or stupid when he was really just a friendly kid with dyslexia. He almost flunked out of school and would have if not for this dorky looking kid who called himself “Otter”. Thus, a tense and rather abusive friendship formed.

-Otterman was the only reason that Mooseboy was able to graduate Highschool. They were a team, he was the brains (Still is) and Mooseboy the brawn (Still is). HE hated the fact that he was smaller and weaker and really took it out on his partner. Their first crime together was breaking into the school and stealing the principal’s desk on a dare.

-Spinkick and his half sister Flytrap have the same father, and different mothers. Their father lived a double life with his paramours only six miles from one and other. This affair was discovered by their moms and the two women ended up murdering their children’s father and then (unironically) falling in love with each other.

-Flytrap and Spinkick’s mothers moved in and the two kids were forced to get along, they ended up really caring about each other and watching each other’s backs and defending each other in school. Their mother’s never got caught by the way, just think about that.

-The Troll never had friends as a kid and met all his good good friends online, including Player (Plot twist?). Player and Troll got along like peanut butter and jelly, becoming a tag team in learning to hack and work with the internet system. The Troll became invested in trying to figure out how to lock down security systems like banks or Jail facilities (Seeing as his father was put in jail for robbing a back and killing a man who tried to stop him).

-This took Player aback and he began to back away from his friendship with The Troll. This didn’t matter to The Troll, he managed to shut down the security system where his father was being kept. This ends sadly due to the fact that his father doesn’t escape, but ends up dying in the break out. This caused him to draw back from people and remain in his room for a very long time.

Thanks for reading my ramble about V.I.L.E Operatives, I’ll be posting one for the Faculty soon!