#your glow is powerful and brilliant

[velvet4510]

I think my favorite book-to-film change is the addition of Sam saving Frodo from letting go of the cliff and falling into the lava. And the reason why is the brilliant sound design; I wanna point this out for anyone who hasn’t noticed.

When Frodo is first shown dangling, we hear the Ring calling him. An eerie, high-pitched noise, almost a whistle, begins as the Ring first lands on top of the lava, and permeates the soundtrack as Sam looks over the edge and that expression of despair crosses Frodo’s face as he realizes what he failed to do. Just then we assume Frodo’s POV. We’re hearing what he’s hearing; the Ring is beckoning him to let go and follow it.

But then, when Sam says “give me your hand!” and it cuts to another closeup of Frodo’s face, looking up at Sam, suddenly the Ring’s whistle just … stops. Abruptly. There’s another cut to the Ring as it starts to glow and melt. It is clearly still calling Frodo, but suddenly Frodo (and we) can’t hear it.

Even the music quietens and the loudest sound we hear is Sam’s voice.

Then Frodo looks down as his hand slips, and then makes eye contact with Sam again. And then the music/chorus slowly grows louder as Sam practically whispers, and yet it almost sounds like a shout, “Don’t you let go…”

Then Frodo makes his choice. He chooses Sam, and grabs his hand.

The soundtrack just by itself reveals the true power of the love these two share. The sight and sound of Sam, pleading and pleading with all the adoration in his heart, finally beats the Ring for good. Suddenly Frodo can’t hear the Ring anymore. He can only hear his Sam.

The stronger force prevails.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP: The Real Blood Son

It's a year after Damian came to live with them that he decides it is an excellent time to bombard Bruce with his news.

"I had a blood brother." He says to Tim after the other commented how important blood meant to Bruce-ie, not enough to make him get rid of his other sons. "He was the first from the artificial womb mother made with Father's DNA; however, he was disposed of once his heart condition became known. I highly doubt you will last even twice as long Drake-"

"What"

Bruce didn't know that he could make his voice that cold. That dead. What in the world does he mean disposed.

Damian goes still. The kind of still where he isn't sure if he just earned a punishment and is trying not to react to the fear. "My elder brother. Did mother not inform you?"

"Damian," Bruce struggles to level his tone at Dick's hard stare. "She hadn't even informed me of you. Please, can you explain more about your brother."

The youngest nods. "He had no name, but he was my biological brother. He was forced to grow to age of three before they realized he was defective. Grandfather had him sacrificed to the pit."

Jason growls "what do you mean?"

Damian looks confused- as confused as he can with his league training kicking in. "The Lazarus pit is made from the bodies of young virgins. No older then ten. They are sacrificed in exchange for the Infinite Realms' power to sink into the water. The children are not aware of what is happening to them until the very end. They do not suffer."

Bruce feels sick.

They talk a bit more, on how certain followers throughout history were more then happy to offer the great Ra's their own children to renew the pit. How Damain had watched three children when he was seven be sacrifice- it happened every five years- and how the children were given the best week of their lives.

They purposely given the most joy they could feel before the blades to make the Pit as pure as possible. He talked a lot about watching the youngest- five years- be laughing and splashing in the Lazarus water before his mother cut him down, his screams drowning in the green liquid.

"They say the Pit absorbs the last emotion of the sacrifice. Grandfather hopes the children realize the importance and honor they have to be ended for a glorious cause, but occasionally a few are disloyal. When Todd had taken a dip, the previous Renew, had a brilliant girl who figured out what was happening and attempted to escape. She failed, of course, and her arm was amputated in a mission, but she died angry. That's why Todd had such strong madness compared to-!"

"SHUT UP!" Jason roars suddenly, eyes glowing green, and for a brief moment, Bruce swears he hears an undertone of a young girl in his scream "SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! YOUR OWN BROTHER IS IN THERE"

Damain scowls "it's a honor. My brother's body was defective. But he at least had aidded in a glorious ritual."

Bruce can't help it; he leans over the BatCave Railing and hurls his dinner. Damian finally realizes that something is wrong.

They host a funeral for his three-year-old son, who died without a name, and place his gravestone next to his parents. They explain to Damian why the Renewal ritual is horrific but Bruce feels it take years before his son can see that.

Jason, went out into Crime Alley to let off some steam and had been going on a rampage against the underbelly of Gotham. He can't find it I'm himself to stop him.

Bruce asks Constantine to come over and do a small ritual, to hopefully unbound his child and let his son soul move on. Constantine warns that with the kid's name it may not work and that they could only free souls they share blood to but the English man tries anyway.

They send his son their prayers, and hopes. And they try to put him to rest.

Across the Infinite Releams to three dimensions to the right of the Wayne's soul resting ritual, The Fenton's adoptived son, Danny Fenton jolts in his English Class.

The strange stabbing scar above his heart- which is why he never takes off his shirt- burns then cools as if someone had tried to place the temperature-changing ointment. He rubs his best, confused.

What was that?

He'll have to check with FrostBite. Maybe his heart condition is acting up again. It happens every five years even though no doctors his parents have taken him to could figure out what it was.

Until Frostbite. The yeti claimed it had something to do with dark arts, but he's unsure what type.

Frostbite is still doing more testing.

"I wish you had lived, brother. I wish I knew you name"

The wind whispers, and Danny feels a flash of deep longing and grief before it's gone. Yeah, he needs to talk to Frostbite.

[miguelhugger2099]

Power of the Sun

Summary: You're Doc O'Hara's assistant A/N: tentacle pron? Art: vencipality on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little violent/screaming, Angst?, Word Count: 3,004

Miguel was a man of science. He took pride in his work but was always humble about it. He was a kind mentor, encouraging young brilliant minds to pursue their passion in science and math, connecting with his peers and exchanging ideas to enrich and evolve humankind for the greater good. Knowledge is not a privilege, it’s a gift, he would say. Like any other one of his colleagues and apprentices, you admired him and his work. You followed him around as his assistant and confidant. Miguel trusted you after many years and you had fallen in love with him after many years. For a while, it had remained one-sided. A love you kept to yourself and didn’t believe that a man so brilliant as him would ever fall for someone like his subordinate. He deserved someone equally as knowledgeable–capable of keeping up with him. “Dr. O’Hara, I’ve printed all the documents of the latest experimentation process as well as sending a copy to Osborn.” You walked in his vast lab, heels clicking with each step against the marbled floor. Miguel was all the way in the back, only a dim fluorescent light highlighting him and whatever he was working on. His face was scrunched together as he focused on the task at hand. However when he heard your voice, he looked over his shoulder and his scowl melted. He called out your name gently, now a small smile on his face. He joined you in the middle, hands out as he collected the papers from your hands. He briefly flipped through the pages, scanning with his eyes before looking back up at you. He patted the front pages with the back of his hand and nudged his glasses up further his nose. “What would I do without you?” You flush, scoffing and looking to the side before reverting back to him. “You’d be fine, Dr.O’Hara.” You shake your head and swerve around him to take a look at whatever he was working on.

Miguel turns. “I beg to differ. For years, you’ve been a great asset at my side.” You hum. “And for years, you keep telling me that. But really, Doctor, it’s you who does the actual revolutionary actions.” He meets you at your side once he’s placed the papers securely somewhere. “Miguel.” He corrects you. “We’ve been together all this time. You know what else I keep telling you? That honorifics is unnecessary. Call me Miguel.” You clear your throat. “Okay, Miguel.” No matter how many times he reminded you, you would always say his name before reverting back to calling him Doctor. Perhaps habits are hard to break. “How’s it coming along?” You turn your head to see what he had been working on for a long time now. Miguel brightened up, standing straight and walking around the device. Four long green mechanical tentacles held up on their own all attached to a long spinal machine. He grazed his hands over the tentacles, admiring his own work. “We’re close, darling. It just needs some testing.” “Well if you’d like I could set up a volunteering headline for–” “No, no, no!” He stopped you by shaking his head and hands. “No, I–we can’t let this get out to the public yet. This is for the expo next month where Osborn will be. Perhaps he can finally understand why I’m doing this…” He mumbles to himself. You’re taken aback by his outburst but you rationalize it by thinking how exhausted he might be. Ever since Norman Osborn had disregarded Miguel’s research, Miguel had been working on crunch time to prove the CEO wrong. “Then how will you test it?” Your hand comes up to hold a claw from one of the tentacles. You examine the carbon fiber skeleton that Miguel used, trying to find the details of the prosthetic. Miguel admires you from the side, his eyes longing and far as he watches.

“I’ll–” He sighs. “I’ll think of…someone.” He murmurs. He feels an ache in his chest and looks back at his invention. The green of the arms glow softly against his brown skin, reflecting off his glasses. He looks over at you and sees the same for you. The curve of your cheeks and the light in your eyes tinged with green. “You know, um. It’s been a while since we’ve-eh- hung out?” Miguel stammers, taking off his glasses and cleans the right lens with his lab coat. “Maybe later tonight we could–if you like, of course– to join me for dinner?” He coughs and quickly places his glasses back on to hide his blush. He fails. You turn your head to face him, surprise evident on your face. “O-oh. As…colleagues?” Your voice pitches higher with nerves. Miguel gulps, Adam's apple bobbing with the action. “Well, no–it’s–what I’m trying to say is I’d like to have dinner with you as…more than colleagues.” Miguel burns brighter. He could solve the hardest equation, understand quantum physics and talk to scholars and billionaires with no sweat but when it came to you, you turned him into a babbling idiot. He glances at you from his peripheral vision, hoping you would not reject him. “Oh..! Then,” You give him a small smile. “I’d love to.”

What started as one date, began another and another until a series of dates had been planned and enjoyed before it blossomed into a relationship with your boss. You never thought it possible. You always thought of Miguel as someone out of your reach, someone who would rather focus on winning awards and gaining money–helping humankind–before ever thinking of settling down with anyone. For months, you had been going out with him, and establishing your relationship and for months you were helping him with his invention. Miguel screamed as he threw everything he had on his desk aside in anger. Pens, papers and other tools flew to the floor and he gripped his hair in frustration. He tugged on his long curls hoping that the pain in his strands would outweigh the pounding in his head. You ran to his side and placed a hand on his back while he curled into himself, heaving heavily. “You need to rest.” You urged. “These damn billionaires,” He growls, ignoring you. “Can’t they see we’re just trying to help people? Can’t they see beyond something as worthless as the money they want?” He stomps away from you, heading to the pinboard that held all his drawings and calculations. He ripped them off their pins and clips, tearing them to shreds as they fluttered to the floor. “This is the next step to human evolution! And they want to dump my shit, my life’s WORK, just because of what?” He laughs hysterically. “Because that malparido Osborn doesn’t believe in it? Are they so far up that elitists ass?” You watch terrified behind him. You feel your heart pumping, your eyes trained on him in case he hurts himself. “Miguel…” He slams his fists on the now bare pinboard, papers strewn across the floor around him. He heaves out another sigh, his anger simmering. “I just want to help people.” He whispers, resting his forehead on the rough surface. While he takes in shaky breaths, you decide to approach him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you turn his head towards you. Your heart breaks when you see the defeated look on his face. Eyebags had grown deeper, his eyes bloodshot and half lidded from sleep deprivation. “It’s okay.” You whisper.

“It’s not.” “It is. You’re a smart man, Miguel. You’ve done unimaginable things on your own. Your mind is what they need, but you? You don’t need their money. You have that brain of yours.” You tap his forehead and give him an encouraging grin. Miguel’s face falls into a relaxed smile, chuckling when you tap his forehead. “And you.” He whispers. “I have you.” He takes your hand off his shoulder and brings your knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. He keeps your hand against him until he breathes in and out slowly, looking up at you. “Thank you.” He mumbles, kissing your hand again before standing straight and moving his arms around your waist. “What would I do without you?” He grins tiredly. Your arms snake around his neck. “Probably die without me.” You giggled and he giggled with you. “Probably.” He hums while you look at each other, basking in the calm after the storm of emotions. “How about I bring us some tea?” You offer.

“No coffee?” “I think caffeine should be the least of your worries right now.” You roll your eyes playfully when you see his smirk. “English Breakfast?” You pat his chest before sliding away from his embrace, looking over your shoulder as you walk towards the exit. Miguel smiles and nods. “You know me so well.” He sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets after watching you leave. His smile drops from his face and he looks over at the giant green robotic tentacles. With a gentle hand, he caresses the silicon with care. Then, he moves onto the spinal cord of the device, wondering if Osborn just saw what he could do–then it would all be worth it. With a glance at the door, he makes sure the coast is clear before taking off his lab coat and shirt–and attaches the tentacles to his body.

You loved Miguel, honestly. The man you met was the sweetest. He was kind and caring, always patient and encouraging for new minds that wanted to learn. He was gentle. Was. You wondered where it all went wrong. Maybe you should’ve seen the signs. It seemed like everyday he would get slowly more agitated. Not at you. Never at you. More like, at the situation–at least you’d tell yourself that. You remember waking up one day in Miguel’s apartment. With your growing relationship, you decided to move in with him but it seemed like you were alone again. Miguel was sleeping at the lab more often than not. Other times you would have had to drag him out of his burrow, him snapping with red eyes that he needed to continue working. With a sigh, you shuffled out of bed, the other side being freezing cold, and got ready for work.

After clocking in, you found Miguel exactly where he was last night—hunched over and murmuring to himself. You place the tea you brought down onto the table along with a sleeping pill right next to him.

“Mi amor, you need to get some actual rest. It’s been days. You’ll wear yourself out.” You speak as quietly as possible to not scare him. Miguel doesn’t flinch, only shrugging you off.

“I’m almost done.” He grumbles.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now.” You frown deeply and nudge the tea closer to him. “At this rate everything will be in vain. It won’t work if—“

“IT WILL WORK!” Miguel screams, slamming his fist onto the table enough to shake the cup of tea's contents, spilling the sleeping pill. “It has to!”

You jump back, heart racing at his outburst.

Miguel huffs and collects himself, anxiously running his hands through his hair. He drags his hands down his face and rubs his eyes.

“Sorry, shock, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to yell at you. You're right—it’s the, uh, lack of sleep.” He sounds exhausted. Every word slurring and when he relaxed even for a moment, his body drooped forward.

“You know better than to do that…” You whisper and he looks up at you with heartbreak in his eyes.

“I…I know, mi cielo—pero—“ Miguel gives you a weak smile, some light coming back to his eyes. “Look. Look! The—the arms! They’re almost complete!” He rushes towards you, ignorant to the way you step back and flinch when he takes your hand in his.

Miguel leads you to where the tentacles stand and presents it to you with a wide smile.  “You see here?” He points to the spinal cord of the contraption. “All these ridges really gave me a run for my money. When trying to attach it to the body, they would stick and often fall. If these are to be used for prosthetics then it needs to not just be connected to the body but a part of it. As if the limb never left—or-or better—made better.” He laughs to himself, placing a hand over his mouth as he stares adoringly at the machine.

Meanwhile your eyes squint. “How…how would you know that? How would you know how they react to connecting to the human body? I thought…this was unstable for human testing.”

Miguel scoffs, waving his hand at you. “No one gets far in their inventions by worrying about the dangers, mija! THINK!” He shouts.

You’re horrified, darting your eyes between his bloodshot eyes and the tentacles. “You didn’t…”

Miguel is already on his way to the device and stands in front of it. The spine digs into Miguel’s back and he grunts, the vest he added secures around his waist, lighting up a soft green. The chip snaps into his neck and Miguel stumbles but regains balance. He slowly stands back up and the tentacles come to life, swirling and curling around him. In the midst of the tentacles wiggling around, it slammed against tables and chairs—knocking the tea you had gotten him to the floor.

“Think about how many lives we could save. Mi amor, mi vida, mi corazón, we’re at the brink of the next stage of human evolution!” His tentacles whip wildly around him as if cheering along with him.

“What…are you talking about?!” You yell, exasperated. “‘Human evolution’? Are you insane?!”

The bottom two green arms slam into the ground, breaking the floor as it’s crushed under the weight of Miguel. They lift him higher so he’s well above you—more than he already is. You take a step back, his height and strength becoming much more prominent.

“Do you think I’m insane, corazón?” Miguel asks softly. There’s a hint of green in his eyes.

“We’re—“ You gasp. “We’re meant to make prosthetics. Legs, arms—I thought this was a test to the future but this…” You run your eyes down the arms of the green silicon. Its claws are digging firm into the ground, holding up a six foot nine man’s weight with ease. Miguel’s face is contorted in a scowl, a burning rage underneath his beautiful brown eyes—a light green glowing in the highlights.

“This…is not you…” “What would you know about me?! You’re just some assistant that doesn’t know jackshit other than printing a few papers! All while I worked on this myself!” One of his upper tentacles slam next to you which makes you jump and lose your balance so you could fall to the ground.

“Day and night, all you did was be some aching headache, forcing me tea and pills when I should be wringing Osborn’s neck with my bare hands to show him what exactly he missed out on!” Miguel cackles, his tentacles lifting him higher like a God.

You’re afraid. Very afraid. It all happened so fast. Who was this man?

The tears well up in your eyes and for a minute—if you said another word it would trigger Miguel to kill you.

Miguel must’ve seen the terror on your face, tears bubbling at your water line and falling down your cheeks while you shivered. He must’ve because his sinister smile dropped slowly, his arms lowering him down. 

“No, no, no—bella—no. That’s—it wasn’t me—“ Miguel’s feet finally touch the ground and when he does, he hisses, gripping his head as an agonizing headache surges through his mind. He groaned and moaned and took several steps back away from you.

“No! Don’t make her look at me like that! She’s afraid! Don’t scare her! Don’t make her fear me!” He screams, hyperventilating as his legs shake beneath him. 

“What? No! I want Osborn! Not her! She didn’t do anything! Leave her alone! Please!” Miguel’s releases tears, giant globs flowing down his face as he faces an internal battle and the tentacles go haywire.

Finding your chance, you shakily get up from the floor, scrambling to your feet to the exit. You scream and fall after just a few steps, Miguel’s tentacles zipping past your head to break through the wall by the door. Another worker outside screams, peering through the hole and witnessing Miguel looking down at you with fury. They run off and it creates a domino effect for an evacuation.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Miguel growls and hovers closer to your shaking body. You turn over your shoulder, heart hammering in your ears and chest. You feel like you can’t breathe.

“Miggy…” You whimper. Miguel’s eye twitches and he looks like he’s struggling between himself and whatever it is that’s in his head.

He stutters your name out before his face is webbed and he groans. Four separate webs wrap around Miguel’s tentacles to attach to his body. Miguel glares up and sees a familiar red and blue suit with big white eyes.

“Don’tcha know it’s rude to be mean to a pretty lady?” The hero quips, standing front of you to protect you.

“Spider-Man…” You gasp—relief filling your chest.

“Spider-Man.” Miguel growls and rips himself free from the webs only to be hindered again once more—this time with stronger webs and with a force strong enough to stick him to a wall.

“Nope! Not yet! I’m still trying to figure out what exactly you are, so give me like five minutes to save some civilians. Thanks, you’re a swell guy!” Spider-Man winks and picks you up in his arms and quickly swings you away to safety.

You look over Spider-Man's shoulder while he swings away and you could barely hear Miguel scream in frustration, his body fighting against the webs. Inside, your heart breaks as you wonder if maybe there was a chance to save him.

A/N: i dont see doc ock miggys. i would like to see more.

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + his tendency to laugh out words

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, toxic relationship, fem!reader words: 541

thinking about vox’s tendency to laugh out his words ♡ 

thinking about the way he would giggle out in a whisper how fucking pretty you are in the back of his sleek, expensive car after some corporate event, one hand creeping up the slit of your evening gown as the waning silver beams of the moon struggle to compete with the neons of the city, the knuckles of the other brushing hair back from your temples, then skimming along the curve of your cheek, the edge of your jaw, the arch of your neck in a tender caress ♡ 

thinking about the incredulous little laugh he’d huff out when it’s just the two of you, when you’re tangled up in each other’s limbs, damp bodies knotted together and ragged breathing entwined, when the day was rough and stressful and he found sweet salvation in your cunt, panting out in a single breathless melody how lucky he is to have you, how lucky he is to have found you, voice tinged with disbelief that he could’ve come across something so beautiful, so special, so loving in the depths of hell ♡ 

thinking about that cruel, caustic chuckle that claws at the back of his throat, that’s paired with a sharp glare and a sharper tongue when he asks if you’re fucking stupid, when he calls you a silly little girl, when he tells you to keep that mouth of yours quiet, because you know nothing; his three favourite responses to you digging your cute nose into something you shouldn’t be. sit down, shut up, look pretty; those are your commandments, the trail that always follows after one of his malignant orders ♡

thinking about that booming guffaw that rumbles from deep within his chest, that shakes his entire form as it splits his lips into a broad, open-mouthed grin, stretched so wide that it consumes more than half of his entire face, that it scrunches his eyes to cute little crescents and furrows his brows when something exceptionally exciting happens, when he’s so thrilled and thrumming with exhilaration that he just cannot keep it contained inside of him—a rare sight, one reserved for the company of his closest confidants, but a sight you cherish nonetheless ♡

thinking about that dark, dangerous titter that always stains those sudden declarations he has when he’s scheming, those decisive thoughts stated strong and firm and with conviction, the amusing sound only working to fortify his words—a powerful punctuation at the end of something certain—after that wickedly intelligent brain has hatched another sinister plan, brilliant but terrifying ideas worming around in his skull to form a knot of something diabolical ♡

thinking about that gentle laugh that spills past his lips unthinkingly and uncontrollably, that infuses a delicate i love you—so soft, so sweet, so goddamn sincere—any time you do something he finds cute or unexpected, the usually harsh glow of his eyes dimmed with affection. and out of all of his laughs, this one is your favourite, because this laugh is private, is special, is something just for you. this laugh is shared and sacred, melts from one mouth into another between messy tongues and pawing hands and stumbling ankles. this laugh is yours to keep, forever ♡ 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

[ourrechte-blog]

Funny Take on Eldritch/Ancient

You've seen this, Danny is the Ancient of this or turns into Eldritch form for whatever reason. Now here's the humorous take

The Justice League were fighting a powerful foe, one that Flash knew as from the Infinite Realms, so he was already equipped to deal with them. Though this specific one was beyond what anything he had could handle. A blast of green energy suddenly erupted, causing the ghostly foe to growl in surprise and anger. Everyone turned to see a woman resembling Wonder Woman, her arms outstretched and wisps of steam wafting off her palms from the force of the blast she had unleashed.

"Who are you, interloper, to have powers like mine?" the ghostly foe snarled, its ragged form twisting with outrage at this unexpected interference.

"I'm one of you actually, though a bit stronger," the woman replied calmly, her voice carrying a weight of power that belied her human appearance.

"A human claiming to be from the Infinite Realms? Preposterous!" the ghost scoffed, its ethereal form rippling with disdain.

"What you see here is my saver mode, so I don't draw on too much power," the woman explained. A brilliant white ring suddenly manifested at her waist, dividing into two halves that spun in opposite directions. Her clothing shimmered and transformed into a sleek two-piece suit of black and white, while her raven hair turned a brilliant snow white and her eyes blazed with an otherworldly green glow. "This is my true state, Phantom, a Neverborn Ghost like you."

"Since you shared with me your name, I shall return the favor. I am Outcast Ebony," the ghostly foe declared, his ragged form twisting and rippling with ethereal energy as he narrowed his eyes, tensing in anticipation of whatever this so-called "Phantom" would do next.

Dani gathered more power, and her form began to shift and change. Where she had once appeared as a normal human, she now became stylized, her features taking on a sharper, more unsettling aspect. Her waist tapered inward into sharp points, rather than curving inwardly like a human's. Her legs, instead of tapering into rounded boots, ended in pointed tips, as did her elbows and knees. Her shoulders, elbows, and knees had become sharp angles rather than smooth curves. All in all, her appearance was unsettling to look at, even for the experienced members of the Justice League.

"This is what happens when a ghost ascends beyond what a ghost should be able to while fulfilling their purpose. My Eldritch Form," Dani explained, her voice carrying a weight of power that belied her otherworldly appearance. Outcast could sense the immense power of this Eldritch Form, but felt confident that as long as every threat was watched, he could match her in battle. It would be a close fight, no doubt, as Phantom's power was close to matching Outcast's own.

Dani took a deep breath, her form crackling with green lightning bolts. "And this… is… to go… even further beyond!" she cried, letting out a piercing scream that sent visible green sound waves rippling outward, striking Outcast who hastily erected a barrier to shield himself from this never-before-seen ghost ability.

Flash, his voice tinged with concern, called out, "Dani, no! We need you to conserve as much as you can!"

Despite not being directly hit, every member of the Justice League could feel the raw power behind Phantom's supercharged Canary Cry as she continued to scream, the sound waves rippling outward with devastating force.

Then, the scream changed, no longer emanating from her mouth but from her entire body. The very air began to ripple and crack, and fissures opened in the ground, followed by cracks in reality itself. Everything flickered, briefly showing a green sky filled with floating doors as Phantom maintained her earth-shattering scream.

Flash, feeling drained by the powerful display, pleaded, "Dani, stop!"

"Flash, explain, now!" Batman demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Reality shifted again, the green sky and floating doors reappearing as everything from this strange dimensional rift was drawn into Phantom, and Earth's reality reasserted itself.

"That's Dani. She's the Speed Force, and that green stuff? Her home dimension. Or rather, our multiverse's version of it. And right now? I'm useless. She's taking all the Speed Force energy back into her," Flash explained, his voice heavy with fatigue and awe at the incredible power Dani had unleashed.

The sky was replaced by green and doors once again as Phantom's screams became exhausted and hoarse, but she maintained her rhythm, her face contorting with effort. Turning her head skyward, she allowed the green realm to feed into her one last time. Everyone had to cover their eyes as a blinding light engulfed the area. When the light faded, Phantom had changed again, her figure now returned to a more normal appearance. But this was no mere ghost or ascended form - this was the Speed Force itself, the primordial energy that granted super-speed abilities.

Dani's body had become a living embodiment of the phrase "darkest before dawn." The black parts of her form were pure shadow, blocking all manner of light, while the white parts encompassed the breaking dawn, a radiant glow emanating from her very being. She was Dawn, the Ancient of Light.

With a simple flick of her wrist, Dani reenergized Flash, the Speed Force returning to its rightful vessel. "Sorry about the wait," she said, her voice reverberating with ancient power.

Outcast felt a sense of trepidation wash over him at the sight of an ancient being of such immense power standing before him. He knew this battle had taken an unexpected and dangerous turn.

[jessamine-rose]

˚♱ଘ Faustian Bargain ଓ♱˚

Welp here we are with the fourth entry in my Yandere Church AU. Let’s fall into depravity once more, this time with Demon! Pantalone x Contractee! Darling (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, blood, violence, slight self-harm for summoning purposes, spice, mention of nsfw, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion, guest-starring Demon! Scaramouche <3

♡ 2.5k words under the cut ♡

♡ Since their creation, humans have ruled over the mortal plane under the influence of spiritual beings. But while angels are venerated as divine saviors, demons are fallen sinners who corrupt humanity through temptation and curses. It is for this reason that humans live in fear of demons, with the Church condemning all forms of unholy covenant. But time and time again, that warning has fallen on deaf ears.

♡ Throughout history, several individuals have formed pacts with demons in exchange for divine favors. Favors vary across demons but in all contracts, the price is clear: The human gives up their soul and any chance at salvation. Once the pact has been made, the human is granted the ability to summon the demon as their lifelong companion. But upon the human’s death, the pact is broken and the demon is free to seek out new souls.

♡ It is through these contracts that the Harbinger of Fortune rose to prominence. He is a “young” demon in the sense that his earliest records only date back to three centuries; but in that short amount of time, Pantalone has tempted many fools and heretics with the promise of material wealth. And it is through this tactic that he attained power, recognition, your soul.

♡ In your defense, you had no other choice. Born to an elite family in Liyue, you had enjoyed a life of luxury until your parents squandered their fortune. After a failed attempt to flee to another nation, they were murdered and you were told to repay their debts lest you meet the same fate. It was a hopeless situation—you had no assets to pawn off and even then, your remaining days would be spent in poverty. So when you recalled the local stories about the demon who deals in prosperity, you were desperate to summon him.

♡ It is difficult to find authentic records of his summoning ritual, but you manage with what little time you have left. There is an illustration of his sigil, to be copied on the floor with blood from your own palm. A table is arranged with incense, gold coins, freshly-brewed tea, a mirror, and the dagger used to extract your blood. Once everything is in place, you clasp your bloody hands together and utter the sacred incantations.

♡ As soon as Pantalone’s true name leaves your lips, the incense sticks emit a dark fragrant smoke. The summoning circle glows violet and within it, a brilliant figure emerges. Dark horns, adorned with silver, curve back along his raven hair. His garments are styled with violet jewels, serpentine motifs, an iridescent cape embroidered with a scene from the Garden of Eden. He is beautiful, so beautiful that you feel unworthy when his bespectacled gaze meets yours.

♡ Before you can look away, he is already onto you. In a polite voice, he introduces himself and asks for your name. Next, he tells you to disable the barrier of the summoning circle; he prefers civil negotiations. It takes some reluctance on your part but eventually, the two of you are seated together at the table. There is a critical look on his face as he surveys his offerings and explains his contract in detail.

♡ Aside from the general rules, there are clauses specific to Pantalone’s pacts. He can only be summoned twice a week, and never on Sundays. Contracts with other demons require his permission. Any attempt at breaking the pact will incur severe consequences. All of this is said with honeyed words and a kind smile.

♡ So perfect is his facade that you fail to notice an undertone of condescension. A glimpse into your soul was all it took for Pantalone to regard you as a hopeless fool hindered by your worldly upbringing. But that is fine—fools are easier to deal with, and you’d make a pretty addition to his collection of souls. Plus, it was only yesterday that his previous human died, and he is always quick to move on to the next pact. With that, Pantalone tells you to make a choice.

“A fair exchange, don’t you think?” he asks. The smile on his face is deceptively angelic. “In return for your soul, I will provide you with wealth, prosperity, everything your heart desires. Do you believe it is worth the price, ______?”

♡ You say yes. That is when Pantalone takes off his rings then his gloves, revealing multiple scars slashed across his palm lines. Gracefully, he picks up your used dragger, draws a new line, and clasps his wounded hand in yours. Then he wraps the same hand around your neck, staining it with a mix of your blood.

♡ There is a burning sensation followed by a burst of pure ecstasy. Once the euphoria subsides, Pantalone lets go of you and holds up the mirror. The front of your throat is branded with his sigil while a diamond pattern encircles your neck. It glows violet before disappearing altogether, a sacred collar invisible to mortal eyes. Thus, the pact has been formed.

♡ The next few minutes are calm. Pantalone’s scars are concealed once more. The two of you finish your tea. He takes a coin from his offering, now magically engraved with his sigil, and explains that you need only flip it to summon him. Then he offers one last smile, says he will look forward to your partnership, and disappears with the remaining coins.

♡ In the morning, you wake up to find bags of coins and jewels on the table, the exact amount needed to pay off your debts. Once the money has been given, you eagerly summon Pantalone to thank him. He merely smiles, leads you to your parents’ office, and tells you that the next step is to rebuild your family business. After all, while he can create material riches out of nothing, a mysterious source of wealth may attract the suspicion of your fellow humans.

♡ Soon enough, the company is flourishing under “your” authority. In reality, it is Pantalone who instructs your decisions and eliminates competitors. During meetings with clients, he attends in his invisible form and whispers to you the necessary responses. With success comes your return to high society, and Pantalone is all too happy to escort you to galas as your plus-one. His human form attracts several admirers, but his attention remains on you.

♡ He is also pleasant company. You can’t help but summon him often—your house feels empty without your parents. As for friends, you refuse to trust anyone after they turned their backs on you during your financial crisis. Pantalone is always nice about it, listening to your woes and participating in your hobbies. Once in a while, he will activate your pact mark and comment on how needy you are.

♡ He even fulfills your carnal desires. Over the months, Pantalone has toyed with your physical attraction towards him, teasing you with light touches, seductive whispers, sinful smiles…and a deep kiss when you shyly proposition him. That kiss is soon followed by heavy makeouts, long nights in your bed, physical marks all over your body. Greedy as he may be, he always makes sure to repay the pleasure you’ve given him.

♡ One night, you ask him about his divine nature. He confirms the popular belief that all demons are fallen angels; in his case, he was created for the Ninth Order, the lowest rank in the angel hierarchy. For the first century of his life, he could only settle for the inferior powers and duties assigned to his status. Neither could he enjoy the freedom which humans were born with.

♡ Thus, he set his sights on Hell. For angels are not created equal but demons can earn their powers through individual efforts. But leaving God always comes with a price, and Pantalone’s was paid in blood and tears.

⬩◈⬩

“Is that how you lost your wings?”

In the dark, your demon’s scars remain apparent. A pair of rough, featherless, ugly lines which you are careful not to touch, lest he flinch—from pain or shame? During your first night together, Pantalone refused to talk about it and you took the hint.

Even now, he flips over in your bed to hide his imperfections from you. When he answers your question, his voice takes on a light tone.

“Yes. It was God who ripped out my wings, and He even had the ‘mercy’ to cast them out of Heaven after me. But that was a long time ago, and I’ve since put my old feathers to good use.”

His capes, he means. They are his signature accessory, all crafted with sheer fabric, tiny jewels, and iridescent embroidery. Each cape is its own masterpiece, bearing fantastical images of God’s creations. It was during a casual conversation that Pantalone told you the threads were sourced from his old feathers.

He looks past you, and you know his gaze is on the coat rack. Tonight’s cape depicts a celestial paradise filled with winged figures. Beneath Heaven, separated by dark clouds, demonic figures descend into a fiery sky.

“Still, it must’ve been painful,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you add, “I mean, you didn’t only lose a body part that day. You also lost your former appearance, your ability to fly, your siblings—”

At that, a smile makes its way to his face. A large, genuine smile that isn’t directed at you.

“My former brethren were not dearly missed,” he replies. He sits up, combing the strands of hair tangled around his horns. “After I landed in Hell, I was taken in by an older demon. Let’s call her Jiejie, since she does not appreciate needless declarations of her true name. She is the one who treated my wounds, the one who cared for me using her own resources, the one who welcomed me into her home with open wings. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

A soft breeze rustles the cape, threads glittering in the moonlight. Some threads, however, lack the iridescent quality of Pantalone’s feathers. Instead, they are silvery shades of black and gray.

His tone softens. “I will confess that I had an easy start in Hell thanks to her influence, as did Scaramouche who fell before me. But everything else—my contracts, my current status—are the fruits of my own labor. Perhaps someday, I may even reach Jiejie’s level of power.”

“I see…” You look into his eyes this time. “So what do she and that Scara demon specialize in? They sound nice; am I allowed to form pacts with them?”

“No.” He says it firmly, with no room for argument. Bare hands pull your body closer to his. “Even speaking as their brother, that sounds very unconscionable. Don’t get too greedy now.”

“Oh, I…okay!” you squeak. A faint violet light takes up your peripheral vision—your pact mark? “I’m sorry for asking. I’ll remember that.”

“Good.” His hand moves to your throat, tracing your sigil. When your eyes meet, his are bright with desire. “Never forget, you are mine first and foremost.”

⬩◈⬩

♡ In the following years, Pantalone grows more fond of you. Gifts begin to appear in your hands, from violet jewels to stylish garments. He accompanies you to more meetings with your fellow humans, his arm wrapped around your waist in a possessive gesture. His physical affection intensifies. On a few occasions, he even visits you despite not being summoned.

♡ It’s a nice change, but an overwhelming one. As time passes, you meet new friends and suitors, only to reject them after Pantalone claims to have glimpsed malice in their souls. Neither can you summon other demons, not when he is confiscating your demonological texts under the pretense that you’re too “impressionable” for another pact. And who can forget the time you were caught looking for information on the Tree of Life?

♡ It wasn’t your intention to seek a way out of your debt. It was by pure coincidence that you ran into the heretic who sold you the grimoire with information on Pantalone; and the conversation naturally shifted to the topic of your eternal damnation. Unsurprisingly, many humans have attempted to go back on their deals; and according to your “friend,” the best solution is to become immortal through the Tree of Life. You only asked them to contact you if they ever find the mythical tree, but that was enough to anger Pantalone.

“Do not lie to me, ______,” he snaps. His smile appears calm, but his tone sounds absolutely venomous. “I glimpsed your memories of last night, and I know you tried to violate our contract.”

“I…” You fearfully shake your head, only to cry as your throat constricts. It hurts, as though his sigil is burning your flesh, and your knees hit the floor. “I didn’t mean to…”

Your voice trails off. A gloved hand tilts your head upwards, forcing you to meet his death glare.

“Speak up, darling. My time is precious.”

♡ After that, you apologize and make no attempt to evade your fate. The next time Pantalone becomes angry, you at least have the luxury of not being the target of his emotions. It is a seemingly normal day, and you are served tea by a long-time servant. Suddenly, Pantalone appears and pulls you away from the individual, not bothering to hide his true form. When he tells the servant to “drop the act,” there is an indigo glint in their eyes.

♡ And that’s how you learn that the Puppeteer specializes in demonic possession. The servant’s body falls to the floor, unconscious, and it is Scaramouche’s turn to make himself known. He has asymmetrical horns, a single skeletal bat wing, and an expression which is far from friendly. A silvery black-and-gray feather dangles from the brooch pinned above his heart.

“Tell me, Scaramouche, what are your reasons for spying on my precious jewel?”

“Hmph, as if you need to ask. I just wanted to see if your little pet is worth Nee-san’s blessing. If you still desire them when that time comes, you’re on your own.”

♡ You don’t understand what they’re talking about, but it’s clear that you have no part in the conversation. After a few insults, Scaramouche leaves, but not without telling you to “know your place” in the future. That is when Pantalone sighs, pours a cup of tea for himself, tells you that it is none of your concern. Don’t worry, darling, he has it all under control. So just sit down, drink your tea, talk to him about anything under the sun. You still have a long life ahead of you, and he shall give you Heaven on earth until the day your heart ceases to beat.

♡ And perhaps if you are good enough, he will act on his desire to keep you as his pet in Hell. It’s been centuries since Pantalone has tortured a sinner, but he does know the best ways to break your mind. And is eternal suffering in his home not preferable to another demon laying their hands on you? At any rate, it’s not like you have any other choice.

“In the name of love, I will respect the contract between us and the fate you put in my hands.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

Aahhh I hope y’all enjoyed my take on Demon! Pantalone!! He ended up with the most tame + lore-heavy fic, and I swear that the character of “Jiejie” will make more sense when I write the remaining stories for Church AU. Also, fun fact, Pantalone’s capes are inspired by Rusly Tjohnardi and Hieronymus Bosch’s triptychs~

Moving on, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this and supporting me through every step of writing hell. Now if y’all excuse me, I’m must avenge myself and whack Pantalone with the biggest cross I can find o(^▽^)o

Tag a Pantalone enjoyer!! @navxry @beloved-blaiddyd @leftdestiny-posts @meimeimeirin @euniveve @lychniis @teabutmakeitazure @stickyspeckledlight @mochinon-yah @zhongrin @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @theinnerunderrain @ddarker-dreams

[scarletwidowsbaby]

Lover's Agreement

Summary: Acceptance takes time, understanding, and commitment. But, all three of you are still learning.

Pairing: Omega!Fem!Reader x Alphas!WandaNat

Warnings: Alphas being Alphas, Natasha being pushy, suppressants, nervous breakdown, mental abuse surfacing. Read at your own discretion.

A/N: Here you go, Part 2 of Lover's Quarrel.

*credit to owners*

When you came to the apartment, you realised that most of your stuff was still packed into bags. 

“Oh, brilliant! I’ll go put these by the elevator.” Natasha explained as she took the two main bags, leaving you with your duffle bag.

You quickly threw in the few bottles of suppressants before silencing them with the last of your clothes in the cupboard, making sure not to shake the bag too loudly as you found Natasha by the elevator.

“All packed? Let’s go.” She smiled at you, walking you back into the Tower.

The elevator ride was silent, save for the music, and you carefully put your bags into your room with your duffle bag going straight to the ensuite bathroom. Natasha left you for a moment to put away your things, even if you tried to do it agonisingly slowly.

Eventually, two hours had passed and you finally packed away the toiletries, using the sink drain pipe and the stacks of toilet paper to hide your suppressants. You also knew that it was a new day, so you popped one of the strong ones and cleaned your face.

*Why oh why did you agree to meet? You could have avoided everything about this for another month before dying, according to Bruce.* You thought to yourself.

*Death was mercy in this cruel world.* 

You finally came out of your room to find Natasha, Wanda, Yelena and Kate chatting in the kitchen. You crept past silently but not without the scent of your Alphas hitting you, making your hindbrain melt.

“Hey, Y/N. Come have some dinner.” Wanda offered as the other girls ate up the delicious-looking meal.

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t a question.” 

You looked up sharply at the Alpha witch, her glowing eyes dragging a chair behind you before pushing you towards the counter. She placed a bowl in front of you before magicking the spoon into your hand, giving you a quaint but sharp look. “Eat up. We need to talk, too.” 

You watched Yelena and Kate stack their empty dishes before heading to the lounge, turning on the TV to watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine. The voices were quiet but you could still hear them if you focused and it was quiet around you. 

“Y/N.” 

Great, now the talking part.

“What?” You asked the redheaded Alpha, poking and prodding at your bowl.

“We need to introduce you to the rules.” 

Natasha plucked the piece of paper off of the fridge before handing it to you, watching your eyes scan the top half of the page before giving it back.

“No.” She pushed it back towards you. “Read your own rules too.” 

You had only skimmed through the rules of the Tower, the Alphas and the Betas, but now you know you had to properly read it:

Tower - No intentional hurt, physical or emotional - No ignoring, yelling or swearing - No power use to control - Traffic light system - No entering rooms w/o permission

Alphas - Deliver punishment - Respect Beta/Omega choice of punisher - Care above control - Stay close to Omega when out of Tower

Betas - Know when to interfere - Help Omegas where possible - Stop/Help Alphas were possible - Can follow any Omega rules if comfortable

Omegas - Look after yourself - Eat and Drink  - Bedtime rules (set by Alphas) - Do not leave Tower without an Alpha - Communication - Alert Alphas of drops/other problems - Accept punishment - Room = safe space

“I seem to have a lot more rules.” You commented annoyedly. 

“You do because you are an Omega.” Natasha replied.

You slid the paper back over and she pinned it back on the fridge, with the two Alphas taking a seat on your sides.

“What?” You grumbled.

“Eat. As much as you can, nobody will force the whole bowl down your throat, but eat.” Wanda explained.

“I’m not hungry.” You retorted before you felt hands fall onto your waist.

“Hey!” You yelled as Natasha put you on her lap.

“Wanda?” 

You looked at the witch, who took a spoonful of the dinner and held it in front of your lips. “Open.” 

You shook your head and wriggled in Natasha’s lap. This wasn’t what you wanted. People touching you, forcing you to eat- you shut your eyes and pushed yourself out of Natasha’s arms.

“Y/N, come on-”

“Wait, Natasha.” Wanda cut her off, watching you sprint down to your room.

“I know that. Where do I know that?” The witch thought to herself.

She lightly brushed a finger over your mind to calm the pool, observing the memories that had been pushed to the front. She gasped, dropping the spoon into the bowl before she came to your closed door.

“Y/N, Y/N, please, I’m sorry. We didn’t know you were in HYDRA too.” She knocked fervently on the door.

“G-Go away!” You barked through.

“What’s happening?” Natasha asked her mate.

“In HYDRA, when somebody didn’t eat for a few days and HYDRA wanted to keep them… they would force them to eat.”

“What?” 

“Tie us down, feed us by hand. It was a manipulation tactic, to get you to listen to at least one person regularly and form a bond. Then, they would abuse that bond until it was broken. Repeat the process until you don't trust anyone to feed you but yourself.” 

Wanda turned back to the door. “‘Mega, please let us in… we can help.”

“I’m not just a fucking Omega!” You howled through the door.

The two of them sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry, malen’kiy. We didn’t know.”

“That’s the problem. You don’t bother to get to know.” You grumbled to yourself, but she heard it.

“Come on, let’s give her some space.” Natasha cooed, taking her mate into their room for some quality time.

When you woke, you were still in a heap on the floor. The room was slowly darkening by the setting sun and you stood up, feeling utterly wrecked to the bone. You shuffled out of your room, not paying attention to anyone as you grabbed some water from the fridge.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t talk to me.” You clipped Wanda’s words off quickly.

“We need to talk about more rules, specifically bedtime since it’s almost upon us.” She continued.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. You were twenty-four, not a baby - you didn’t need a bedtime. “Why?” 

“Because it’s a rule.” Natasha added, folding her arms as she came into your view.

“Come on. Come sit.”

You eyed the empty chair between the two Alphas and you shook your head. “I’ll stand, thanks.” 

Neither of them reacted. “Okay. First off: Do you have a job?”

“I’m a waitress and bartender at Danny’s Diner, remember? Where you first decided to have me?” You replied, watching Natasha taking notes as Wanda asked questions.

“When do you normally work?”

“Any shift I can get. Typically night, early morning. Rarely during the day.” Your answers came with a short clip at the end, showing the Alphas that this was not a favourable discussion.

“What’s your boss’ name?” 

“I have Sophie as my manager and then the owner, Danny. His wife, Alura, does the shift management.” 

“Can we speak to her?” 

“Why?” 

Natasha lifted her head from the paper and laced her fingers together. “We want to have a schedule that aligns with your bedtime. Probably four or five days of the week, you’ll be in bed by 10:30.” 

You let a huff of air out through your nose. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not a child.” 

“That’s why we’re giving you the option of four days.” Wanda retorted, raising an eyebrow at you.

You growled out deeply. “Fine. What else?” 

Natasha chuckled. “You get to choose if you want to sleep in our room or yours. We’ll go out tomorrow and buy some more clothes, things for a nest, et cetera. We can even split up so that Wanda goes shopping with you while I go talk to your bosses.” 

“Good. I don’t want to see Danny’s eyes when he finds out I can’t work like a normal person anymore.” You mumbled, trying to remove yourself from the uncomfortable situation.

“Okay. Now, for punishment, I take it you don’t want physical touch like spanking?” The Widow continued.

“No.” You shook your head, the only time this conversation didn’t have a snarky remark from you.

“Alright. How about physical exertion? Standing on your head in the corner, planking, balancing books on your head?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a punishment?”

“Yes. We will push you until we deem the punishment over or that you can no longer carry on.” Wanda clarified.

You nodded, comforted by the familiarity of your training. “Okay. What else?”

Natasha glanced at the rules on the fridge before looking down at her notes. “Ah, yes. ‘Drops/other problems’. Who do you want when you drop?” 

You thought about it for a moment, making sure to hide your thoughts in case Wanda wanted to look. You hadn’t dropped since you learned how to control it, no thanks to HYDRA and the Red Room. You would get a slight fuzz in your head but that was all, which didn’t help when making this decision.

“Can we wait on that one?” You asked, receiving nods from them both.

“Of course.”

You nodded and felt awkward just standing there with a cup of water in your hands, watching Natasha pack up her notes whilst Wanda looked over to you. “Do you want to come and watch a movie?” 

You nodded and followed Wanda to the lounge area, watching her take her place. You knew you shouldn’t have hesitated to sit on the couch, because the three pairs of eyes on you looked worried.

“Y/N, you don’t have to sit on the floor unless you want to.” Kate spoke, pulling out a pillow for you to sit on.

“I’m not sitting on the floor like a mutt.” You growled, choosing to sit in the end corner of the couch. 

“Okay.” The archer took the pillow back and cuddled up to Yelena, something you watched closely.

Wanda observed your watching eyes before she patted the spot next to her, giving you a welcome smile. You scowled at the patting motion, choosing to stick to your corner, even if you were a little bit cold.

Then, Natasha came back. She sat down next to Wanda, with a space to fit another person and a half between you and her. “Y/N, come over here so we can share the blanket.” 

“No thanks, I’m good.” You replied monotonously. 

You watched the movie about amazing black women sending astronauts into space whilst fighting for rights; that was, until, an alarm went off and Natasha pulled out her phone.

You despised the alarm’s name - Omega bedtime.

“I’m not just a stupid Omega.” You growled, storming out of the room and slamming your door shut. 

Wanda grabbed the phone from Natasha and stopped the alarm from ringing, glancing at her mate. “Change it.”

Natasha quickly changed it to Y/N bedtime before making her way to your door. “Can I come in?”

“No.” You answered, slightly muffled from both the door and your pillow.

Natasha sighed, placing her head against the door. “I’m sorry, love. I should have known better.”

“Mhm.” You answered.

“You’re not a prize to be won. You’re a charm to be treasured.” She added.

“Goodnight, sweetness.” 

You didn’t say it back.

When the morning came, you made your way to the kitchen to see Wanda already cooking. 

“Hi, Y/N. Want some breakfast?” She handed over a plate of fried eggs on toast with cutlery.

“Thank you.” You murmured sleepily, watching as Wanda poured you some water.

You ate half of the breakfast before Wanda noticed how you didn’t want any more, coming over and giving you a gentle touch along your back. “Good job, Y/N. That was a lot, I shouldn’t have plated so much, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You replied, going back to your room to change only to bump into Natasha.

“Sorry, love. How are you feeling? Had some breakfast, I see.” She pointed at the egg that had dripped down onto your shirt. 

“Yep.” You clipped.

“We’ll be leaving in about an hour, okay?” 

You nodded and closed your door, leaving Natasha to be with her sister and mate. You popped a strong suppressant before getting changed into your outfit of jeans, shirt and hoodie. You left your room with your shoes in hand, tying them by the elevator as you waited for the two Alphas. 

They eventually came out wearing simple civilian clothes like yours, but they frowned at the sight of the hoodie. “Y/N, it’s going to be warm today. Are you sure you want the hoodie?” 

You nodded, knowing that your body struggled even on a hot day. Whilst walking with them through the carpark, conveniently next to a train station and Danny’s Diner, you noticed how some Omegas acted with their Alphas. Some had collars on, some were leashed, others were like you and free.

“Do you want us to find you a collar while we shop, baby?” Wanda asked and you growled.

“No collars.” 

She nodded and kissed your forehead before those lips transferred to Natasha, bidding her goodbye as she walked towards the diner. Wanda took your hand and pulled you into stores and you noticed that some of them didn’t even question your status as Wanda led you around. 

After two trips to the car, you and Wanda went to lunch. You both found a table, with the witch determined not to let you out of her sight, and she watched you eat slowly. 

“So, Y/N, I was wondering if you would consider something for me and Nat.” Wanda asked, waiting for you to swallow your chips. 

“What about?” 

“Could you cuddle with us tonight? Natasha’s been feeling antsy and I don’t have the right pheromones to calm her like you do.” 

You looked down at your meal and put your hands in your lap, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m… I’m not great with touch.”

“Is it because of HYDRA? And the Red Room?” She offered, watching you nod.

“It’s not appropriate here, but I have some… less than admirable markings across my body.”

Wanda’s eyes turned to steel as she looked at you. “What kind of marks?”

“Um…” 

Wanda put a hand on top of yours and you stopped talking. “You don’t have to say if you’re not comfortable.” She reassured you.

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome, love.” 

When you saw Natasha walking towards you both, you shifted in your seat and a small scowl came onto your lips. She was beaming, pride wafting from her, and you huffed. “What are you so happy about?”

“Danny says he’s more than happy to let you work afternoon shifts, from about 2 until 7:30.” She smiled. 

You huffed out slowly. “Great.” 

She looked at you and sighed, your eyes not meeting hers. “Will you please look at me?” 

“Not unless you use my name.” 

“Y/N, please look at me.”

You lifted your head and with an annoyed sigh, opened your eyes slowly. “What?” 

“Why are you making this difficult?” 

“I liked my life how it was before, so excuse me for trying to keep it that way as much as possible.” 

Wanda took your hand and when Natasha tried to take yours, she was met with a hostile growl before you removed your hand from the table. The alpha was done, and you could smell it on her.

“We’re going home. Now.” 

Wanda helped you pack up the last of your things, including taking some leftovers, before she guided you into the back of the car. You fidgeted in your seat as your omega brain began to get stressed, your mind getting fuzzy as Natasha kept looking back at you.

“Natasha, you’re scaring her. Stop it, right now.” Wanda scolded.

“I am not! I’m being an Alpha.” She retorted, albeit reining in her scent a bit.

Wanda looked at you in the rearview mirror and saw how unhappy you were. You were her Omega, one of the two most important things in her life, and you were unhappy. 

“Malysh, would opening the window help you?” She offered as she turned the corner.

“Mhm.” You muttered.

She opened the window a little bit, no more than halfway, but she saw how it calmed you. She even released a few calming pheromones to combat Natasha’s frustration and you pulled the window up higher of your own volition.

“How much further?” You asked quietly.

“Not too far. A few more minutes.” She smiled at you.

Meanwhile, Natasha was frustrated as the emotion in her heart was new. Why did you like Wanda but not her? She acted the same, she gave you the same options, but why did you like her more?

She was jealous, and even you could tell that much. 

When Wanda pulled into the garage of Avengers Tower, you already saw a few of the Avengers waiting to help unpack the car. A few new faces were there, most having some scrapes, but they still helped where they could. 

“Miss Romana, a meeting will be held in five minutes to introduce you to the Avengers you did not meet beforehand.” FRIDAY spoke above you in your quiet room.

“Thank you for telling me, FRIDAY.” You replied, laying out a blanket on the end of your bed.

You entered the bathroom and noticed how the graze along your cheek was almost healed, whilst your arms were still a bit scuffed. You replaced the bandages on them and threw a hoodie over the top before following FRIDAY’s directions to the penthouse.

When you stepped out, the foreign area put you on alert until you saw Wanda and inevitably, Natasha. You don’t know why you weren’t as comfortable with her as you were with Wanda, and for some reason, you thought you should be more comfortable since the Widow had gone through similar things to you.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re here. Let’s get started.” Steve gathered everyone, some with drinks in hand made by Tony at the bar.

“Would you like a drink?” Wanda offered and you shook your head.

“I’ll get you some water then.” 

You took the glass into your hand before nodding to Steve to start the conversation. “This is pretty much everyone you’ll meet, Y/N, but you already know everyone that lives here. These guys have their own places outside of the Tower, or rarely come by enough to have a room.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, hearing a few chuckles.

“Feisty Omega.” The blonde woman, another Alpha by her scent, snickered. 

Natasha growled. “Carol, watch it.” 

“She’s cute, too. Anybody claimed her yet?” 

Natasha snapped at her, with Wanda pushing you behind her and taking Natasha’s wrist. “Not yet, but she holds our marks. Careful, Danvers. Natasha is not in the mood for your antics.” 

You wriggled out of Wanda’s grip and stood to her side, shooting her a glare before you nodded to Steve to continue. 

“You already met Peter, but he thought he’d come and say hi.”

“H-Hi, Miss Y/N.” He waved at you, the young Beta’s pheromones reeking of nerves.

“You almost smell like an Omega.” You smiled at him.

“I have anxiety.”

You nodded sympathetically. “I know all about that, don’t you worry.”

“This is Rhodey, Tony’s best friend.” Steve gestured to him.

“I’m a Beta soldier.” 

You nodded softly, respecting his status and service.

“Then there’s Scott, Sam and Bucky. Sam and Bucky are mated, whilst Scott’s girlfriend is the only pairing so far in the Avengers that’s opposing primary sexes.” 

“Hi. Beta with an Alpha girlfriend. You seem very nice.” He shook your hand, his smile almost fatherly.

“I’m Y/N, as you know. Y/N Romana.” 

“Let me guess - Romanian?” He chuckled, making you do the same.

“Just a little bit.” 

Natasha and Wanda both felt jealousy rise. You were with Scott for what, five seconds, and you’d already told him more personal things than either of them knew. Natasha took your hand and let you stand in-between them.

“Can we see your marks?” Sam asked and you nodded, spinning around.

But Natasha didn’t let go of your hand, making you huff and wrench it out with a whispered ‘ow’. You parted the hood away whilst lifting your hair up, showing off the three marks.

“And proof?” Bucky questioned, to which Wanda stepped forward and moved her shirt collar over.

“Nat?” Steve gestured for her turn and she lifted her pant leg, showcasing the marks by her ankle. 

“Good. Now, I hope that you all understand that those marks means Y/N is off-limits, unless she asks you specifically for help with a drop or to take her out of the Tower.” 

They all nodded, with Wanda bringing you back to her side, and you looked over at Natasha. Soon, a meeting was held by the Alphas and you were left outside with Scott, Rhodey and Bucky who were all Betas.

“So how come you smell like a Beta, Y/N?” Scott asked as he bit into a small sandwich.

“Oh, I don’t know, actually. If you’d like…” You pulled up your sleeve whilst calming your heart rate, undoing a bit of the bandage to reveal your healing wound.

“Does that help?” 

They all leaned towards you and sniffed the air. “Oh yeah, that’s an Omega.” Rhodey commented, making you all chuckle.

“I just… I must have practised a lot with hiding my scent that I smell different when my blood’s not exposed.” You shrugged.

“Well you seem like a lovely person to be around, Omega or not.” Bucky smiled, patting your shoulder.

“Whoa! A metal arm?!” You exclaimed and he chuckled, taking off his jacket to reveal the black and gold design. 

“It used to be made out of titanium, but our friend T’Challa built me a better one.” He grinned, flexing his fingers slightly in your grip.

“Whoa.” You chuckled, tracing the different grooves of the arm up until his elbow, to which you were pulled up by Natasha’s strong arm.

“No touching, Barnes.” She scowled and you pulled your arm out of her grip.

“It’s fine, Natasha. If anything, I’m the one touching him. Sorry I didn’t ask, Sam.” You apologised, but he shook his head.

“It’s okay, he likes the attention.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes but when they came to Natasha, he lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask if I could touch Y/N, Natasha.” 

“You better be.” Natasha stepped towards him but you pulled her back, to which she spun around and growled at you. 

A slap echoed in the room, with Natasha’s jaw clenching as her skin stung. 

“Don’t you ever try and Alpha command me again.” You snarled, pointing a daring finger in her face that she had an idea of biting.

“I am your Alpha!” 

“And I’m a fucking person!” 

“Y/N…” Steve warned you, your mind drifting to the rules.

“Sorry, Head Alpha.” 

He was surprised when you addressed him by his proper title, to which he let the foul slide. “Natasha, Y/N, Wanda - return to your level and talk this out.” He commanded, but you felt no power over you.

You stepped into the elevator and waited for FRIDAY to control it, keeping your cool as Wanda and Natasha came too. Wanda stood next to you whilst Natasha leaned against the wall, staring at you. 

“How are you able to resist an Alpha command?” She questioned.

“Red Room. Resist the command or die.” You replied shortly.

“That’s not what I remember.”

“You’re an Alpha - of course you don’t remember, because it didn’t happen to you. It wasn’t a part of your training program.”

Wanda took your hand and kissed it gently, brushing her thumb over your skin like she was smoothing out a pebble. 

“Stop trying to be a kiss-up, Wanda.” Natasha growled.

“I’m not. I’m respecting my mate, just as you should be doing.” Wanda shot back, her eyes glowing.

Natasha stood up as the elevator slowed, standing next to you. “Don’t think we forgot about your swearing, Omega.”

“Steve let it slide.” You stated, but she shook her head.

“Steve is not your Alpha. I am. Your punishment is ten spankings.” 

“Y-You said no spanking.” You stammered, suddenly feeling very small as the Alpha’s scent overwhelmed your systems. 

“Do you want ten more?”

“Natasha, enough!” Wanda threw her out of the elevator just as the doors opened, letting her skid along the ground before she hit a chair.

“Y/N, go to your room. I’ll be there soon if you’ll allow me inside.”  

You scurried past and shut the door, leaving the Alphas to ‘talk’ it out. “Natasha Romanoff, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but this is the most restless I’ve seen you! You need to either dial it down or I will knock you down a few pegs, got it?” 

Natasha took a few deep breaths before she stood, looking at your door. “Why can’t I do anything right?”

“Start by treating her like a person instead of an Omega.” Wanda snapped, coming to knock on your door.

You opened it and she saw how downcast your expression was. “Look at me, Y/N.” She murmured, waiting for your eyes to meet hers.

“May I come in?” 

You nodded, taking her hand and shutting the door before you led her onto your bed and lay down. She didn’t make any advances to be nearer, but she did watch you closely as you fidgeted. 

“I want to go home.” 

“I’m sorry, frumoasă, but you can’t go home. You have to stay here.” She sighed, gently running her knuckle up and down your unmarred cheek.

She watched as a few tears sprung forth and you curled yourself into a ball, your sad pheromones ringing alarm bells in Wanda’s head. “Y/N, can I hug you?”

You nodded and she slowly enveloped you in her warmth, the scent of cinnamon and apples making you calm slightly. Your head became fuzzier and your vision blurred, but it soon refocused as you looked up at Wanda.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” 

“You’re gonna drop?” She asked gently and you nodded.

“I haven’t dropped in a while.” 

She kissed the crown of your forehead gently. “I’ll keep you safe, Y/N. No harm will come to you as long as I am here.” 

You slowly closed your eyes and although every instinct in you said not to, you let go. Wanda felt your release as a sinking of your weight into the mattress, making her smile gently as she continued to pamper you with kisses, a hand running up and down your spine, a blanket slowly peeling over you.

“Good, love. Would you like to sleep?” She offered and you nodded slowly.

“Isokay? No mad?” You slurred.

“Not mad. It’s okay.” She confirmed, feeling your breathing slow until it evened out into slumber.

When you woke, you felt the most refreshed you’d ever felt in your life, like that sleep was the only true sleep you’d ever had. In a way, it was, as having no reason to be on your guard was astoundingly good for your mind. 

You sat up groggily before a knock came to your door, the sight of Wanda making you smile. The long shirt covered most of her torso, leaving the bottom of her silk shorts to poke out. “Morning. Can I come in?” She asked, to which you nodded.

“I wanted to talk to you about Nat.”

Your eyes opened properly after a few blinks. “What about her?”

“She wants to talk to you. Spend time with you and you alone. She wants to know Y/N, not her Omega.”

“I thought they were one and the same.” You chuckled, but Wanda saw the dejection behind your eyes.

“I can’t deny the fact that I love that you’re an Omega. But I also know that it doesn’t define you. You’re strong, independent, caring, witty, just to name a few.” 

You blushed at her description. “Thanks, Wanda.”

She leaned in and kissed your cheek gently. “Will you give Nat a chance? Please?” 

You took a deep sigh and nodded. “One chance. If she blows it, she blows it. No Omega for her.” 

She smiled. “Carol was right, in a way. You’re so feisty, it’s cute.” 

You playfully growled at her and she giggled, biting her bottom lip before she stood. “Come on. Yelena and Kate are making pancakes for breakfast.” 

You yawned and walked with her, hand in hand, and smiled at the Alpha-Beta pair that beamed at you. 

“Y/N! Do you want a pancake?!” Kate offered over the music, which Wanda turned down with her magic. 

“Sorry. Do you want one?” She asked again at a normal volume. 

“Yes please.” You smiled, looking down at the delicious spreads. 

You shuffled onto a chair and thanked Kate for the pancake as it flopped down in front of you. You watched Wanda’s magic bring over the Nutella, to which you almost grabbed from her, but her magic manipulated a knife to spread it evenly over the pancake. 

“I wanted to do that.” You whined playfully, rolling it up before eating it like a burrito.

“I’m just trying to practise my powers, love.” She chuckled, sitting down next to you.

“You may drown the pancake in Nutella for your next one.”

You munched on them slowly before you objected to a third, but you could tell that your stomach was expanding as you never would have thought you could eat this much a week ago. You were laughing along with Kate and Yelena as they dotted on one another, the noirette Alpha taking care of her Beta, whilst Wanda observed you.

You watched as Kate fed Yelena a bite of pancake-wrapped banana and a feeling grumbled in your heart. You wanted that, to be dotted on and loved so carelessly. You wanted to feel as safe as you did last night, to be at peace like that, and you wanted it with Wanda and Natasha. 

Then it dawned on you. 

*Shit!* You looked towards your bedroom before making an excuse to freshen up, quickly scurrying into your ensuite at the sight of a shocked Natasha.

A bottle of strong suppressant pills in her hand.

“Y/N, what…?” Her heart broke, and yours raced.

“Natasha, it’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s not? So these aren’t Omega suppressants? Ones that could kill you?” She growled, but noticed how the room stank of fear.

Wanda, Yelena and Kate came rushing into the room, the witch with her magic whilst Yelena held two spatulas and Kate held the hot frying pan. 

“Y/N, get back!” Yelena yelled, ready to attack whoever was in the bathroom. 

You scrambled into the corner of the room, eyeing your cupboard before you clambered into that and held it shut. Voices were muffled, gasps of shock too, but it was clear what you had done and you knew you would be a goner. 

“Malen’kiy, can you open the cupboard door, please?” Wanda’s soothing voice was clearer as she knocked on it.

“No, no, no, no, no… Gonna punish me, gonna whip me… bad Omega, bad bad Omega…” 

Wanda pulled the door open by your muttering to see you in an out-of-body state, rocking back and forth on top of a pile of dirty laundry. She knelt down in front of you and tried to grasp your attention, but was struggling with the two other Alphas, one with fear and one with shock. 

“Everybody just calm down.” Wanda cooed, mostly to you.

“Bad bad Omega… got caught, gonna whip me…” You kept muttering, only to flinch wildly at Wanda’s touch.

“Shh, Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you.” She tried to calm you but still failed.

“Natasha, get your butt over here.”

The Widow knelt down in front of you and her heart shattered at the sight of your fear-stricken form. Your entire body was shaking while you rocked back and forth, your voice sounding like a broken record.

“Dom her.” Yelena spoke.

“Sestra, stay out of this.” Natasha growled.

“I promise, dom her. She needs to know she’s safe, and it’s not going to do much to just tell her. Dom her, overflow her senses with your pheromones. Trust me, it works.” 

Wanda and Natasha looked at each other before looking at you, their fingers lacing together just as their minds did. Yelena and Kate left, closing the door behind them, and that’s when Natasha and Wanda decided to scent the entire room.

As soon as it hit you, your body stilled. No more rocking, a little bit of shaking, but a whimper came out of your lungs. 

“Omega, your Alphas are here. Come and sit here.” Natasha pointed at her lap.

She watched as your eyes seemed foggy as your sluggish movements guided you into her lap, sitting just like a cradled baby would. Natasha held your torso and Wanda came to her side, running her fingers through your hair as you continued to whimper.

“Gonna whip me, gonna hurt me… M’sorry, Alphas…” 

Wanda shushed you gently. “No, Omega. No whipping. Punishment, yes, but no harm like that will come to you by our hands.” 

You curled further into Natasha, burying your head in her neck to breathe in every possible scent of hers you could. Wanda watched Natasha relax, a calm expression built upon her face whilst realisation hit the witch.

“This is what you needed, my love. You needed to dom her.” 

“I guess so. I feel very relaxed.” The Widow commented.

“It’s her.” Wanda smiled as you stopped shaking. “Can’t you smell it? She reeks of calming scents.” 

Natasha gently tilted your head to the side and smelled your scent glands, the addictive and sweet scent of honey filling her lungs. A purr exuded from her chest and it calmed you to the point of near-sleep, your head lulling back into Wanda’s hands.

“Okay, bring her out slowly.” Wanda guided as she pulled her own pheromones back in.

Natasha didn’t want to, though. You were finally calm, compliant, a true Omega. But she trusted her mate and pulled back her pheromones, only keeping the ones that essentially blocked off your fear.

“Hmm… Natasha? Wanda?” You muttered, looking around the room.

“Hi, darling. How are you feeling?” Natasha murmured.

“I’ve never… I mean I have, but only in the Red Room.” You stammered.

“That was a really, really bad stress-drop, Y/N.” Wanda explained, helping you move to the bed.

“I feel so drained, but so energised.” You looked down at your body to see a sheen of sweat covering it.

“Y/N, can you tell us where all of your suppressants are, please?” The witch tucked a hair behind your ear.

You froze. That’s why you dropped, now you remember. Natasha found them and you tried to hide from her. “Are… Are you mad at me?” 

“Not anymore, my love.” Natasha shook her head, kissing your temple.

“Um… okay, please don’t get mad.” 

You shifted throughout your room and grabbed every bottle and loose pill before placing them on the bed. Natasha and Wanda’s heart sank as a few tears shed down your cheeks, sniffles accompanying them until you stood empty-handed in front of the duo.

“Th-That’s everything, I promise.” 

Wanda stood up and hugged you tightly, something of which you never thought would happen. You hugged her back just as tightly before you started sobbing, your legs failing you but she brought you to the bed. 

“Ple-hease, I was g-going to wean off of them, I promise. Please don’t b-be mad, I’ll be a g-good ‘Mega. I-I’ll wear a collar, I’ll t-take the spankings, I’ll kneel out-outside.” 

“Shh, little ‘mega.” Natasha cooed.

“You won’t be punished for this, Y/N. We were going to, but not anymore.”

“W-Why?” You sniffled as Wanda pulled away, cleaning up your cheeks with her thumbs.

“Because you gave us everything else. If we just got angry at finding that one bottle, then you would have hidden the rest from us and stayed on death row. We could not be more proud or happier that you decided to be honest with us.” She explained.

You let out a shuddering exhale of relief, with feelings rising up in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“And did you really mean those things? You’d have worn a collar and knelt in public because you thought we were mad?” Natasha asked gently.

You nodded. “Other Alphas did it. I-It’s why I didn’t want a collar at the shops.”

Natasha and Wanda steeled up slightly. “Baby, you’ve been handled by other Alphas?”

You nodded again before looking at Natasha, realisation dawning on her. “Of course. The lease program.”

“What?” Wanda looked between you two.

“It’s where the few Omegas in the Red Room were leased out to the highest bidder for 24 hours, with no law standing in-between them.”

Natasha wrapped you in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I’ve been ignorant. I’ll be a better Alpha than those pigs, I promise.” 

You nuzzled into her slightly. “Don’ wanna go back there.” 

She shook her head as she let go a bit. “Never. Never in a million years will you ever have to go back there.” 

You relaxed into her grip and felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. You leaned forward and captured her lips in yours, leaving it after three seconds to be just a simple kiss.

“My… My Alpha.” You murmured.

A stronger-than-steel purr ripped through her chest as her pupils dilated. “What did you just say?” 

You blushed deeply before taking Wanda’s hand, pulling her in for a kiss too. You sighed relaxingly and pulled the two impossibly closer, almost to the point that they could kiss over your shoulder. 

“My Alphas.” 

.

.

A/N: There we go, the ending of my first try at ABO :) tips and tricks are always welcomed for the inbox, just so I can see them easily :) thank you for reading.

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 9

Here it is part 9!

Takes a peek at my writing doc. Yep uh, plot is beginning.

Also I've done the most recent Archon quest and uh, Wow.

I uh, didn't expect to cry that hard.

But very glad that my fic is still technically canon compliant. Literally counting down the versions till a lore drop breaks what I have built.

Warning for Spoilers up to Genshin Impact 3.6

Masterlist | Prev Part

~~~

Silver clouds float around lazily on a beautiful sparkling blue sky. 

From beyond the billow of misted water, a spark shines.

It glows brighter.

And faster.

It shoots down towards the sky, breaking the sea of clouds, leaving a gaping hole from where it burst through.

The spark becomes a star, flickering from blue to a brilliant gold, leaving trails of light as it descends towards Teyvat.

As it approaches, it shrinks, becoming smaller, but no less powerful.

A targeted stream of light, of energy.

It approaches a city, a harbor. 

You can feel the energy in the air, the hustle and bustle as humans galavant and frolic.

The sounds and smell of a festival, filled with raucous cheers and lively conversation.

The light ignores it all, heading straight towards a solitary figure.

A figure cloaked in brown and gold, strolling along the roads of this place.

A non human hiding in their midst.

They’re concealing their presence, but the light knows better. 

It can feel their raw power and strength.

This is the one they were looking for. 

It heads straight towards it, hitting their body with force, causing them to stumble in their tracks.

The light, no. The blessing burrows it’s way into this figure.

Mine

It purrs, settling inside their body, warming him from the inside, filling their body with power and energy. 

All Mine

~~~

Your eyes snap open as you jerk out of your trance.

Morax was still sitting there, quietly.

Observing you with those eyes.

Those calm arrogant eyes.

You hate them, you hate them so much.

“Do you remember now,” he asks.

You clench your fist, fingernails digging into your skin. 

You don’t want to believe him. On some level you still don’t.

However, you can’t deny that he has your power. 

That he was gifted with your power.

Blessed

But you don’t know why.

The unfortunate truth, something that Morax no doubt knows, is that you don’t have all your memories.

Azhdaha’s sacrifice gave you some of your powers back, but it’s far from what you used to have.

You remember a time when you were powerful.

When you created mountains and oceans.

When you could create living beings with a single touch.

Well, not a single touch, but you could still do it.

You remember an era of peace, of dragons.

But it’s all gone.

Destroyed.

All because of them.

But you don’t know how.

You don’t know why.

The anger and grief wells up in your chest. 

Your power responds accordingly, strumming under your skin, begging to be set free.

No,

You can’t.

Not now,

Not yet.

Later, you promise yourself.

Later, you will find out the truth and get your revenge.

~~~

“To the tales of the lyre, to the sweet dream of tonight!” A sweet melodious voice sang to the cheerful applause of the Angel’s Share patrons.

The teal figure bowed jauntily, waving his hat with a flourish.

Another successful night completed! 

The bard in question skipped over to the bar, offering its red headed owner his most charming smile. 

Alas his efforts were in vain as the Pyro wielder barely offered him a glance before going back to polishing glasses.

“Oh come on Master Diluc,” he weedled, offering his best puppy eyes. “Did my music not please your patrons ears, surely that deserves some complimentary beers”

“That’s exactly why I’m deducting some drinks from your tab,” He grumbled, “your unpaid tab, might I add.”

“In Angel’s Share I spend my time, in hopes of getting some dandelion wine,” he strummed, “Of varied notes, I sing so high, yet my sweet drink you so deny.”

“Let the bard drink,” Quinn cheered drunkenly, as did the rest of the tavern to Diluc’s chagrin.

The man tried to explain, only for the cheers and chants of the tavern to rise in volume, drowning his voice out. 

Mondstatians and their alcohol.

The tavern owner turned around with the most unimpressed face known to mankind.

Venit would be intimidated, but unfortunately for Diluc, he is not a man and has seen much much more unimpressed faces over the years.

The two stared each other down, one smug and the other exasperated, all the while the tavern’s chanting rose.

With a defeated sigh, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt pours the bard a glass of dandelion wine. 

The bard in question whoops in triumph. As does the rest of Angel’s Share as they celebrate his “Victory” with more drunken cheers and songs.

He knew the tavern owner wasn’t truly angry, exasperated and annoyed perhaps, but the man could never muster any real anger towards Venti.

A small bonus from him revealing his true identity of the Anemo Archon to him. 

For all his tough words against the Knights of Favonious, he was still a Mondstatder through and through. 

Whilst he did not have nearly as much presence in Mondstadt as the other nations did, and was proudly the weakest of them. The people of Mondstadt did not forget what he’s done for them and still recognize and worship him accordingly.

The wind spirit kicked his legs back and forth and he watched the redhead over the lip of his glass.

In terms of personality he really is nothing like his ancestor. Which makes sense of course, it’d be foolish to expect them to end up the same even though they have the same bloodline.

If anyone in Mondstadt were to have that title it would be the Acting Grandmaster.

Guiltily, he is glad that they differ.

To humans, gaining a vision is a great honor. Proof that their worth has been acknowledged by the gods.

He’s happy for them as well, whenever a Mondstater gains a vision.

But he won’t deny the seed of anxiety that sprouts in his heart as well.

Visions can make humans, gods among men.

But the world is made of more than just men. 

Humans may be many but are comparatively weak in the grand scheme of things.

Although, having numbers is its own form of strength.

Perhaps he isn’t giving humans enough credit. 

A lone human is weak, but a group of humans have a level of strength and fortitude that amazes even the gods.

He supposes that must be why the heavens protect them so.

Well, protect is a strong word.

They will do whatever it takes to ensure the continuation of humanity.

But they really won’t waste their time on individual humans.

Unless,

Well,

Visions are gifts for a reason.

Allogenes are rare, and are appropriately rewarded.

Not that visions are not a great boon.

He’s single handedly watched how visions save and change the lives of their wielders.

It’s simply what can come after.

It is extremely rare for an allogene to ascend to Celestia. That position is only reserved for the strongest of wills in all the lands.

Vanessa was one such will.

He knew it the moment he laid eyes on her. 

Her burning passion and desire to protect her people.

How could she not gain a vision, how could she not ascend.

It was why he stuck around, stayed by her side. 

Partially to ensure the safety of Mondstadt. 

Partially to see if there’s anything he could do to save her.

Not that there’s anything he could do, or dare do.

Her will was extraordinary during her life.

It's just beyonf that, that is the issue.

The gaze of Celestia is particularly strict when it comes to cases such as these. Any attempts to defy destiny will be met with swift retribution.

Celestia does love its retribution.

Any hint of disloyalty, or protest will be swiftly squashed.

There was always a bitter irony in his position as Archon.

He was strong enough to protect his people from gods and monsters and other humans.

But not Celestia.

Not one was strong enough to fight against Celestia, even the creator of this land fell to their lies and trickery.

He has no idea what the Tsaritsa could possibly be planning to think they stand a chance.

Perhaps that’s why she’s moving so quickly.

In hopes of finishing her plans before the Heavenly Principles awaken.

He wished her luck on that front.

Even though he may not have the courage to do the same.

He just wished she was less aggressive about it.

Honestly, she didn’t even bother asking him before sending Rosalyn to attack him.

In front of his own church no less.

Honestly the audacity

Although, to be fair, without that audacity she probably wouldn’t have dared to try going against Celesta. 

Her lack of contact with Celestia may have also played a role.

She is not a part of the original Seven after all.

Both he and Morax had visited Celestia firsthand upon their ascension to Archonhood.

It’s where they received their gnosis, their Archon robes and well.  

Where they’ve seen the true capabilities of Celestia.

Witnessed the lengths they’re willing to go to to squash any resistance.

On that front he understood Baal’s reasoning behind the Vision Hunt Decree.

While she may not have gone to Celestia herself and witnessed what the original seven did. He had no doubt that her sister passed on some warning to her before her death. 

It was smart.

If not ultimately misguided.

Sacrificing the few for the sake of the many.

Stifling a couple vision holders in exchange for the safety of her nation.

He understood the urge.

Disagreed with it, but understood it all the same.

The role of allogenes is essential to the survival of Teyvat.

Like it or not.

Without them, Teyvat would collapse.

Sacrificing the few for the many.

He despises it.

What Teyvat is built upon.

What it requires to function as it does now.

But he’s not strong enough to change any of it.

All he can do is wallow in the knowledge that Teyvat is-

The bard shakes his head vigorously to get rid of the path his thoughts are heading towards.

No,

Bad thoughts,

Not tonight,

Tonight is for fun.

Not, 

Well.

Anyways, he’s getting maudlin, that’s no good for such a festive night. 

He tips his glass back, emptying it of its contents.

The Dawn’s Winery quality is unparalleled.

As usual of course.

One of his pettier achievements to say the least.

When Morax announced his desire for Liyue to become the trading hub of Teyvat, and one of the most prosperous nations. Going on to monologue about how he will pave the way for business and prosperity using his contracts and all that blah blah blah.

Well, he couldn’t help but make fun of him about that, now could he.

Leading to Rex Lapis snapping back about how he can’t contribute anything to his nation beyond drunken songs.

Well jokes on him.

Mondstadt is now the nation of drunken songs. 

The best in fact.

Sure it could be considered a waste of time to change the water in Mondstadt specifically so that it would be the best for wine brewing.

But the wine industry is now one of Mondstadt's main sources of revenue.

It was a calculated business decision and completely not related to the grumbling of some winemakers about having to purify the water multiple times to get a good yield.

A familiar presence approaches, the wind whispers.

Venti perks up as he hears a familiar set of footsteps approach.

“Tone deaf Bard,” an excitable voice exclaimed. “I knew he’d be here.”

The bard in question swiveled around in his seat to face the Traveler and Paimon, pasting a cheerful smile on his face.

“Traveler, we meet again, why don’t you sit down, we can share a drink or ten.”

The golden haired teen rolled their eyes at his, admittedly cheesy rhyme.

“I need your help with something,”

Their voice is serious.

In all honesty he hasn’t seen them this serious since what happened with Dvalin.

Venti took a quick peek over at Master Diluc, still serving other customers, great!.

He quickly slipped out of his seat and followed the Traveler out of the Angel’s Share.

Once they’ve reached an appropriately secluded spot, they turned to him.

Paimon and the Traveler exchange glances.

This must be pretty serious for even Paimon to sober up like that.

“Venti,” they ask, “We need to ask you and Dvalin a favor.”

Me, and Dvalin?

What could-

“The creator of Teyvat is back.”

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part

I was thinking of doing something special for part 10, haven't really decided but I'll keep you guys posted.

Thanks so much for your kind words of encouragement.

You guys are the only reason I've gotten this far in the story so far.

As always my askbox is open, for any questions, theories, etc etc

Taglist:@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl, @chaoticfivesworld, @scalyalpaca, @avalordream,@ranshin03, @vvyeislazzy, @wishicouldart, @raykayrei

[bunny-yan]

ahhhkk i'm so in love with yan priest! part 3 maybe? 🫣

TW: Threats, Manipulation, mentions kidnapping, power imbalance, erroneous use of religion, minors DNI

—

Walking down the dilapidated steps to the basement, he held his breath to avoid inhaling the dust caking the walls from years of neglect and unuse. He’d made a mental note to assign some of the new initiates to scrub it clean when they were safe to work in silence. 

A judging gaze swept from wall to wall, repressing a sigh as he promised to do better. No one was perfect, something he knew instinctively. Hours of praying and offering fealty to the goddess let him know there were many areas he was lacking. 

Before, he seemed content to simply accept it as truth, but his recent discovery set alight a dangerous desire to be more than the cap containing the mediocrity of human existence. He wanted to appear perfect, unblemished by the world’s greed and untouched internally by hate. 

He chanted softly, light gathering around his hands before he set the full tray he was carrying on a wooden table. Bringing the light to the torch he watched as his hands glowed from the soft flame that began to spread light throughout the room. 

The priest knew he was long way from his goal when he turned and glowing eyes met his. 

It would happen in due time. Until then, he wasn’t completely against indulging in simple pleasures of the flesh. The goddess would understand. 

“How are you?” his voice strong and carrying through the wide enclosure though he spoke softly. Picking up the tray, he walked closer to the bars that held one of the few treasures that life had to offer. “I seem to recall you weren’t feeling too well so I brought some things for your throat and that headache of yours.”

Walking closer to the bars, he couldn’t help but feel like a predator from the way your eyes watched him warily. 

He stooped to set down the tray and push it through the little opening carved in the bars to allow meals for their guests, eyes widening when he stood and was face to face with his rebellious captive. 

Faster than his eyes could follow, your arm snaked through the bars and grabbed a fistful of his priest’s robes before yanking him to meet your face against the bars. Was he the prey?

“Let. Me. Out.” you growled hoarsely. 

He looked between your eyes, his own softening at the sight of anger and hurt bleeding through your gaze. 

“Did you spend all night yelling again?” he asked, cocking his head to the side with a concerned expression. “I’ve already told you that holy power can only heal the damage to a certain extent. You have to give yourself time to heal.”

“Shut up.” you told him, shaking him forcefully as you shook your head. “Shut up. Stop pretending like you care about me. I wouldn’t be in this cage if it wasn’t for you.”

“You’re right.” he said, catching you off guard. 

You stood frozen as his hand slowly reached through the bar before cupping the side of your face with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of. Sliding his hand down your face you felt something ominous from the light brush against your lips before his fingers were gently wrapping themselves around your neck. 

You felt the familiar warmth of power flow into you, relieving the scratching tension in your throat as his cold voice said, “If it weren’t for me you’d be dead somewhere, a used up pawn in someone else’s game.”

You jerked away from his touch, hand touching your throat as you glared at him. He returned your look with a simple smile, bringing his hands together and beginning to chant. 

You watched, as you had the last days you spent awake, as the bars slowly disintegrated before disappearing in a burst of brilliant light that emanated from the priest. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed in concentration as he finished the remainder of the chant. 

You knew from experience that there was no point running to the stairs. The bars of your cage had replaced the open doorway that led to your enclosure. You could bang on the bars, pull at them until your fingers bled, but they were just as strong if not stronger than the bars that initially held you captive in half of the room. You could attack him, hoping to interrupt his incantation, but an unknown force would throw you back and the bars would be up before you could recover the stolen breath in your lungs. It didn’t help that he would take it all in stride. Looking at you with pity in his gaze before offering to heal your new wounds and bruises. 

The furniture reconfigured itself to a bedroom’s design, the priest walking to pull out a chair in front of the wooden table to sit down as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

You were once again, frozen, mesmerized as you finally allowed yourself to watch the transformation instead of making an escape. 

“I could��ve taught you how to do something like this if you would’ve taken me up on my offer.”

Your gaping surprise turned into stony silence as you pierced him with a glare. 

“I already explained to you that I have my family to take care of.”

“You are taking care of them.” he said, sweeping a hand out. “They’re being sent ten times the salary you made as a cadet in your name. Your family will want for nothing.”

You felt a rising desperation as you sensed that the argument wasn’t going to be in your favor.  

“But that’s-”

“Your mother won’t have to work another day in her life. She can hire others to replace your younger siblings on the farm. They can go to school if they desire or laze in luxury for the rest of their natural born lives. What is so unsatisfying about this deal?”

“I don’t want to be here!”

Silence.

It spread between the two of you, tension thickening in the air. You felt uneasy from his unchanging expression, unsure if you preferred the naturally cold gaze to the soft concern that often adorned his features when it was concerning you. Each felt equally dangerous. 

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether you should say something by way of explanation, but you didn’t owe it to him. You didn’t owe him anything. The priest you’d once admired had completely disappeared into this possessive stranger when you’d finally made up your mind to reject the offer to work under him. 

The deal was nice, but you didn’t think temple work suited you. Hours spent cleaning and praying, offering obeisance to the goddess day after day before being cooped up in a room to memorize scriptures. It was a stuffy life. 

A life that lacked adventure, change, freedom. 

You wanted to scoff at where that line of thinking had gotten you. 

Your reward after fighting for years that bled together like a singular memory was a cell, cold and dark, deep underground where no one would ever hear you scream. 

You’d become paranoid. 

Hearing things that weren’t there, seeing figures lurk in the shadows. You continuously had to remind yourself that it wasn’t real. That you were alone down here. It only made you spiral further. 

Would he forget you down here? He came every day with that light you had begun to unconsciously crave, brightening the dreary room to offer you food and water. 

It didn’t seem likely from the way his eyes never left your body, watching you so carefully as if he’d miss a simple flutter of your eyelashes if he looked away for even a moment. 

It was disgusting how relieved you felt. You knew there was no chance of you starving, having been forgotten in your prison but a part of you resented him for it. Resented his bleeding concern, his presence, his kind memory that was constantly being overwritten by the worshiping hunger in his eyes. A hunger that he seemed to derive pleasure from the longer he left it to rot and spread. An unsettling feeling, being left to wonder when  his eyes would  resemble a starved animal’s, unthinking and vicious.

“You should eat before your food gets cold.” he said. 

Your eyes left his to trail to the tray of food. 

A part of you wanted to ignore him, but a gnawing hunger moved your body before you could deny yourself the pleasure of his vexation. 

Picking up the tray filled with things you liked, you reluctantly sat across from him. 

The priest reached into his robes to offer you utensils to eat your meal with and it only sparked further irritation in you. 

What was with this needy reliance? 

You were stuck underground, presumably unknown to the other priests since he was your only visitor, one that you received twice a day every day. You’d ask him to come more often before being hit with a knowing yet longing gaze, the combination making the hairs on your arm stand on end. You wanted to see if there was a way out, knowing you could only search when he was here, but your hope died when he rejected you. Didn’t want the others becoming suspicious of his frequent trips to the basement. 

 He brought your meals, offering small incentives like books to pass the time with when you showed rare compliance. You could only read in his presence since he refused to leave the light burning despite your repetitive ignored pleas not to be left in the dark. 

You were left wondering what his angle was, leaving you to fumble around in the dark which became increasingly exasperating when you had to relieve yourself. You supposed it went back to him slowly forcing you to rely on him for things as intimate as your vision. 

It almost became natural, feeling that uncomfortable gaze dissecting you as you brought a spoon to your mouth, relishing the taste that permeated your mouth. 

You often wondered where your meals came from considering the priest’s were resigned to eating bread and water unless it was a special occasion. For some reason you couldn’t picture him cooking in a kitchen, preparing your food in a methodical manner as he followed detailed instructions to make the dishes, but you didn’t ask. You weren’t back to having carefree conversations with the priest you’d once regarded as a friend. You didn’t know the person sitting in front of you. 

He cleared his throat and you looked up to meet his disapproving gaze. You looked on with a sour expression, but allowed the spoon to clank against the bowl as you reluctantly took his outstretched hand. 

“Goddess, we come to you today to offer thanks.”

He continued his prayer, offering thanks for the food you were eating and praying that you received her blessings as your body was nourished. You’d considered telling him where he could go shove his prayers, but after witnessing that cold, hard stare as he walked away with your tray, you were sure you didn’t want to see it again. Fasting would be your penance and there was no arguing with someone who’d grown up knowing a body would be just fine without food for a couple of days. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t ever experienced going without food for a day or two. With a big family and an uncertain crop yield, you made sacrifices as the oldest to make sure your younger siblings were well cared for. But farm work among other responsibilities kept your mind off of the emptiness in your stomach. You had to go days without food out in the field. Exhausted and constantly weary, it was hell but you could rely on your bestfriend to take your mind off of the pit growing inside of you. In your prison, darkness was your only comfort and it didn’t offer much. It was all you could think about as you tried to sleep off the gnawing sensation. 

You wanted to be angry at the priest, but he’d relinquished his own meals for the duration of your punishment—penance—making it difficult to complain when you saw how unaffected he was by your “whining.”

Losing another meal was the last thing you wanted. 

“And let us thank you for continual guidance and love as we learn to appreciate where fate takes us. You know all and with open hearts and minds we bring ourselves underneath your infinite wisdom to gain a speck of understanding of your great plan.”

His thumb brushed over the top of your hand and you made eye contact with him as he said, “Even as we resist your design for truth and lack understanding for the things you will.”

Eyes widening at his implication, you wrenched your hands out of his grip, but his fingers slapped around your wrists like shackles before you managed to pull away. You struggled, but he continued his prayer as if you were listening faithfully. 

When he let go of your hands you rubbed the raw area glaring at him as you stared at the food in front of you. 

A part of you was nauseous, unwilling to take even a bite after that self serving prayer of his. 

“You should take more time to understand that your sacrifice is a blessing.”

And he continued to disgust you further. 

“Can you stop?”

“I don’t expect you to get it right away, but eventually you’ll learn that this was for the best.”

“Stop!” you yelled, the word emphasized by the fist that slammed down on the wooden table that creaked under the force of your blow. 

“Prayer will help with impatience and anger. We can begin after you finish your meal.”

You hated his unbothered tone. It was as if he didn’t hear a word you said. 

You couldn’t deny that prayer was often something you turned to whenever someone you loved got sick, or if someone you cared about was going through a rough time. It even offered you solace on the difficulties you faced, but you doubted the goddess would be willing to listen to your prayers when it was her faithful servant who’d trapped you 40 feet below ground in the first place. 

It was hypocritical and hearing those words come out of his mouth made you want to scream. You didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. You didn’t want to listen to his excuses disguised as wisdom and concern. 

Shoving a warm spoon of soup in your mouth, you tried to bite down the anger and restlessness because any emotion other than obedience wouldn’t bode well for you. It was against your better nature. Against all of the training you’d received. You’d learned the proper way to act if you ever became a prisoner of war, but your training didn’t cover the behavior a soldier should take, should your imprisoner be one of the priests meant to aide you. He kept saying that this was for your benefit and it wasn’t like he was wrong when he claimed that you would probably be just another body, used until the senseless fighting ceased, but this was wrong. Forcing you to remain in this damp cell while others, while your best friend, risked their life. If this had something to do with his personal belief, that war was wrong, where were his other victims? The other soldiers he’d whisked away from the battlefield? It’d make sense to separate you, but he couldn’t imagine the church having so many neglected rooms. Cleanliness was next to godliness, as the saying went. And there was more than enough space down here for at least one other person. 

You hated to admit it, but if he did have another person trapped, you wished they were here with you. A companion against the silent darkness was a guilty craving you couldn’t tame and those disgusting feelings of relief that came when he showed his face were only growing the longer you were forced to sit in isolation. 

But there was the other possibility. That he’d taken you alone. 

The thought erected goosebumps on your arms. It was insane, but as little as he visited you, it didn’t make sense for him to come twice a day and care for multiple captives while remaining undetected. But if this was true, it begged the question, why you?

You didn’t want to be crass, but you weren’t really special. Reasonably attractive by your own standards, fit because of the training you had to keep up with, and not an awful person. It described most of the others you spent most of your time with. You weren’t this great conversationalist that was able to enrapture everyone in the room, or possessed the beauty that could do the same. There were others with better bodies, minds and understanding that dwarfed your capabilities in every way, so why did he take you? You’d only interacted on a handful of occasions, none of which were spectacularly worthy of note. In fact, your initial interaction was pretty embarrassing since you were unable to remain conscious. 

“Are you finished?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You knew it was no use thinking about questions he would never answer. 

Nodding your head, you watched as he picked them up before placing them off the side. He’d take them with him when he left and wash them. Wouldn’t leave you with anything you could possibly make a weapon out of. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

He came back to the table, extending his hands for you to place your own in. It wasn’t a question. If you refused to pray with him, your obeisance would be a fast that would last until your stomach threatened to cave in on itself. 

Placing your hands in his, you noted the way he took a deep breath before closing his eyes. It was more of a calming gesture than one meant to prepare him for prayer. 

“Dear Goddess, we come to you today to offer obeisance.”

He started all of his prayers the same. 

Giving thanks, proferring gifts to be offered at a later time, out of sight, and pleading for forgiveness as he repented for his mortal sins. He always seemed to linger in repentance. 

His hands would crush yours in his grip, holding you as if he’d never let you go, worrying you when you would begin to feel pain. The first couple of times he looked guilty when you protested, seeing the bruises form underneath your knuckles, but these days he remained indignant. Uncaring about your temporary pain as he struggled with something you couldn’t begin to understand. 

It always lasted too long. 

You were grateful that he didn’t force you to kneel as he had the first couple of days. It was rough on your knees and the friction rubbed them raw the longer you stayed in that position. It was a show of piety, he would say when you complained, but when he caught you glaring at him angrily, he decided that sitting across from each other would be better. 

For you or for him, he wouldn’t say. 

You were silent, thinking about what your mother was doing, whether she was happy, whether she ever wondered where you were, and why you never wrote. 

If your siblings missed you. If they enjoyed school, assuming the priest kept his word and they were being paid for your imprisonment. 

Enough to never want for anything. 

You wondered if your best friend was okay. If she was still alive and if she was still serving. 

It made you feel incredibly empty. 

Having no one to talk to other than your kidnapper. Wondering how others lived as your own life came to a grinding halt. How you could expect another year of this, wondering if you could even handle another day. 

You felt tears well up in your eyes. 

For the first time, you felt it was all hopeless. 

You couldn’t keep the emotion welling up inside of you to yourself as you choked on your tears. The priest looked shock, his grip loosening on your limp hands as he looked at you, unsure how to respond. He was used to putting up with your anger, your hatred, but something warm filled him at the sight of your tears. 

“It’s okay.” he said simply, releasing a hand to brush the tears flooding from your eyes. 

He got up, coming around the table despite you shaking your head, lazily attempting to pull your hand away to refuse him, but you couldn’t help the desperate need for closeness as he wrapped his arms around you. He comforted you gently and despite your better judgement, you wrapped your arms around him. Burying your face in his robes as he cried. 

Head tilted towards the goddess, he sighed as he gripped the shirt around your back. 

“Thank you,” he offered, solemnly ending his prayer. 

[shadowsandshapes]

[𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲] 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 (Gojo Satoru/afab!Reader)

☆ A/N: This was a 3AM scream into the void that I cleaned up for fun. I said I was gonna do Gojo smut and here we are. So I present to you: Gojo tortures himself for fun. ☆ Contains: Edging, Copious Amounts of Cum, Gojo Whining Like A Whore (: ☆ wc: [1K]

Minors DNI | Ao3 Link

His eyes were so pretty like this.

Those brilliant, limitless blues are caught in a stupefying haze – glazed over and brimming with desperation.

Their depths had darkened with desire as Gojo stared up at your gorgeous body, moving atop his own in a steady, mind-numbingly pleasurable rhythm. He wanted to look away, hide his festering hunger and madness that was flooding into his being but simply couldn't. It would be a shame to miss even a second of the beauty he was witnessing. You were a vision so powerful and captivating it demanded to be seen. Every touch, every glance and noise from your lips captured the attention and held it hostage, leaving no room for wandering thoughts. Only you. You consumed the man’s mind entirely with your lovely body and soul. What did it matter, anyway? There was no need to think of anything else.

Just you and the sweet rolling of your hips.

Gojo's senses were on fire. Mind bordering on the sweet precipice of delirium and bliss. His hands fumbled to hold onto your thighs, squeezing and pulling at the flesh to help you along on his aching cock. A blush seemed to envelop your body – tinting the skin a radiant, glowing pink. The imprints his fingers left behind told a story. Faint bruising, both healed and fresh, functioned as monuments to his continuous acts of desperation. No matter how many times you rode his cock, Gojo always ended up begging for more. He was positively insatiable. Always looking to prolong and endure more of your sweet torture.

Gojo moaned out a strangled curse, halting your movements. "S-Stop, stop, stop—" he breathed out, chest rising and falling as he attempted to regain control of his body. "I'm gonna cum, just stop — not yet, please."

With a voice so utterly fucked out of his mind and broken, how could you neglect such lovely begging?

“Of course, baby, we’ll slow down,” you whispered, grinding to a stop on top of him. Gojo whimpered at the loss of friction but babbled and mumbled a few frantic words of thanks, his voice faltering and stumbling over each syllable.

“T-Thank you, thank you, thank – y-you…” He could barely breathe, feeling your godly pussy tightening and relaxing around his cock. “I almost couldn’t hold it anymore,” Gojo said, digging his fingers into the tender flesh of your thighs even harder in an attempt to ground himself.

He looks at you with a clouded gaze as you tenderly brush his white locks back with your fingers. “Why do you torture yourself like this, Satoru…” The words came out of your mouth with such reverence as you committed the sight to memory. It was beautiful, the way Gojo panted and whimpered at each touch you were willing to give him, like a man starved for connection and love. Affection was the single most addicting substance in the world to him. And the fact that it came from you, an absolute goddess among men, made it taste even sweeter.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so –” Gojo moans, bucking his hips up into you. “So f-fucking b-beautiful.” He’s crumbling. You can see his resolve to drag this out breaking as he begins fucking you again. 

You leaned forward, catching one of his shameless moans with your lips. A kiss to silence your needy, depraved boy for at least a few seconds. Gojo's cock twitched furiously within you, fighting the orgasm that was mere seconds away. If he came now, you would get off him and it would be over. Gojo couldn't have that – he was far too addicted to you to let that happen. Oh, but the craving he felt for you was unparalleled. He wanted it so badly. To paint your inner walls his colors and release his seed deep inside you. But not yet. It would be too soon. This was torture of his own design and delaying the inevitable would only make his release all the more satisfying.

Gojo thanked his lucky stars that you were willing to indulge this overwhelming need of his. There was just one problem: his body moved beyond his control, grinding up into your sweet cunt like a man possessed. Desire had truly taken hold of him. He couldn't help it. His cock chased after whatever friction it could get. Your walls contracted with each thrust, embracing his shaft like it belonged there, buried within you, pressing up against your cervix. 

How was he supposed to stop fucking you when you felt so goddamn perfect? 

You watched his eyes glaze over once more, a mantra of curses and pleas to stop tumbling from his lips. "N-no," he moaned out, glancing at his own, furiously thrusting hips. "F-Fuck, stop – I'm gonna—" Gojo was livid with himself. Fuming at his lack of self-control. He had begged you to stop and you had so graciously granted his wish, but here he was fucking himself into you like a mindless beast. You were so good to him and he couldn't stop. 

A desperate, moaning wail spilled from his perfect lips as his cock began convulsing furiously within your tight pussy. You felt his release splatter against your walls, cock pulsing with each spurt and thrust. Gojo's eyes rolled back as he came, his head flopping down on the pillow behind him as his body began to writhe and shake beneath you. Even that wasn’t enough for him to stop moving, though. He bit his own lips in an attempt to silence his blissful cries. A valiant but ultimately futile attempt: every wave of release made him wail and sob in pleasure. He'd waited so long to cum. Now he couldn't stop. Pearly white seed slipped down the side of his cock as he continued to ride the high, coating the part where your bodies joined in slick. The sound of your bodies grinding into each other covered in cum was enough to drive anyone crazy. Even so, Gojo wasn't done. You were full, stuffed to the brim with his cum, but he had more to give, spilling over onto his abdomen and your perfectly bruised thighs. 

When he'd finally drained his balls into your complete, the mess was immense, sticking to your bodies and dripping from your hole onto the sheets.

"I'm sorry –" Gojo panted out the apology. "Can we go again? Please, I need more. Just one more time."

One more time, he said. You both knew that was a lie.

[Masterlist]

[thesakuragarnet]

Crimes Of Passion (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: It's been a decade since your best friend, Toya Todoroki, perished at the hands of his own Quirk. You always liked to think he was watching over you, looking over your shoulder, keeping you out of harm's way in a guardian angel sense. After all, you'd devoted your life to making equipment to ensure that never happened to anyone else. But lately, you've felt like you're ACTUALLY being watched.

[Part one of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series]

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: canon-typical v!0lence, swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, childhood friends, innuendo, stalker/feral Dabi, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV

Word Count: 2,435 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: slight dubcon, sexy in theory problematic in practice, explicit s3xual content, vag!nal fingering, dirty talk, making out, dubcon kissing, alley s3x, quirk use during s3x, c0me eating, cr3ampie, cunn!lingus, vag!nal s3x, semi-public s3x

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You were working late at the office again. You'd spent all night drafting plans for your latest creation; it was a special request from a client. This Support Item would help the user maintain their body temperature...something that you took close to heart. Your best friend could've used such a thing...maybe if he had, he'd still be alive. Everyone else had already left. It was too far to walk home. You'd have to take the night train. 

...

It's hard for you to not fall asleep as you lean your head up against the window, eyelids drooping as the train runs through the dark tunnels beneath the city. In fact, you barely noticed when the group of shady-looking men got in the same train car as you. A chill runs down your spine when you hear them whispering to one another, and, instantly, you're wide awake. You look outside, realizing your stop is next. Something is telling you to get off the train ASAP...to get away from these men. As soon as possible. The car screeches to a stop, and, without a second thought, you bolt off the train. You didn't live in the best part of town, and the street is dimly lit when you exit the subway. You steal a glance over your shoulder...and realize they're following you. 

'Fuck.' 

Your mind starts racing, trying to think of a way to lose them. They're getting closer...walking faster. Immediately, you dart into a side alleyway, hoping to lose them through the side streets...only for it to be a dead end. You turn around, and they're closing in...

THUD. 

Out of nowhere, a figure leaps down from the rooftops, landing unnaturally gracefully in front of you. The stranger is tall, dressed in all black, and, in the dim moonlight, you see his hands. Scars trace down his arms, stopping at his wrists, which are full of crude surgical staples. 

"I suggest you four go back the way you came," The figure orders. His voice is deep and raspy...kinda sexy. The thugs are unimpressed. 

"What the hell are you?"

"Your face makes me wanna puke!"

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll kill ya!"

They start jeering, continuing to move closer. The mysterious figure raises his arm, and, suddenly, a brilliant cerulean glow flickers off the alleyway walls. 

"You're not going to touch her," He orders coldly. The men laugh. 

"Oh, yeah? And who's gonna stop us?"

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

You scream as the rush of heat and light surges through the alleyway; a frighteningly powerful blue blaze erupts from the man, engulfing the group immediately in flames. Their shrieks of pain are rather short, and the light dies down to flickers and embers within a few seconds. The smell of burned flesh fills the air, and smoke begins to rise. 

"That answer your question?" The man chuckles under his breath, putting his hand back down. He shakes his wrist, and you notice it's smoking. The man turns on his heel, and your eyes widen. His face looks like a mess of patchwork scars and staples, sweeping under his eyes, over his cheekbones, and around his neck. 

"Stay away from me!" You shout, reaching for the pepper spray in your purse as your bones shake. Terror fills your lungs along with the smoke and ashes. 

"What? No 'thank you'? I just saved your life," The figure pouts mockingly, staring into your soul. His eyes are as blue as the flames that shot out of his hand. 

Something about this man...is hauntingly familiar. The way he speaks to you seems unnaturally natural. It's not in the way a stranger would. 

"Who are you?" 

"You'd think you'd recognize your guardian angel when you see him in person. That's what you call me, right? At least when you talk to yourself, acting like I'm some imaginary friend sitting on a cloud over you. Well...," He smirks, taking a threatening step closer. You freeze. 

"Toya?"

"In the burned flesh," He grins sarcastically, gesturing to his scars. 

"That's impossible. My best friend is dead," You stammer, but the longer you look at him, the less you believe your own words. 

Those eyes. The mannerisms.

"Come on, princess."

You hate the way your body responds to that word. The way it shakes you to your core when it rolls off his tongue. 

"You know it's me," He sings, a cruel smirk on his face as he walks forward, forcing your back against the wall. You gulp, feeling your heart race faster and faster. His glowing cerulean eyes bore into you. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable," The villain sneers, looking down at you with a hungry gaze. Lust. Obsession. Greed. You wordlessly shake your head. This shouldn't turn you on. This should make you run away screaming, absolutely terrified. It partially did terrify you...but...in a sickly thrilling way. The overwhelming familiarity and tension...you're spellbound. 

"All you have to do," He murmurs, slowly leaning down, hands moving to splay out on each side of your head, "is tell me 'no'."

You close your eyes, and you feel his lips meet yours. The moment you give in, kissing him back, you feel his hands on your shoulders...squeezing them tightly over and over...as if he's trying to restrain himself from tearing you apart. You reach up, running your hands through his hair, and a chuckle rumbles in his throat as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him. His tongue flicks against your lip, and the moment you give even a hint of admittance, he practically sticks it down your throat. A strangled whimper muffles in your throat in surprise, and you melt into his arms, trying not to slide down the wall as you feel your legs turning to jelly. The feeling of his impossibly warm tongue tracing along your own makes your eyelids flutter, and when you two part, a strand of saliva connects your lips. He traces kisses down your jaw before roughly pushing your hair back and ever so softly sinking his teeth into your neck. You sigh, feeling his fingers wander down your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. Slowly, they dance further and further south...pausing just above the waistband of your panties. Gently, he slips his hand below them, and you gasp as his fingers trace your slit. 

"Fuck, you're wet, princess," He shudders, sucking on your neck harder, and his other hand presses into your back, grabbing a fistful of your clothing. 

"Toya," You moan softly, "We shouldn't be doing thi-"

"Shut up," He rasps harshly in your ear before effortlessly pressing a finger inside you, "If you don't like what I'm doing then tell me. I'll stop."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit as he curls his fingers intentionally. Another moan crawls out of you before you can restrain yourself, and you give in to the temptation. Everything he's doing feels so good. No one's ever touched you this way before. No one's ever made your heart race quite like this. It's exhilarating. He plants more kisses on your neck, borderline groaning into each kiss, the subtle noises vibrating against your skin. 

"You taste so fucking good," He hums between sloppy kisses, tracing his tongue up the side of your neck as you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach. "God, the things I wanna do to you."

It sounds like a threat, a promise, and a desperate plea all in one. It shouldn't, but it gives you butterflies. 

"Like what?" You sigh, hooking your fingers into his loose belt. He jerks ever so slightly, as if the touch caught him completely off guard. You pause, worrying you've overstepped a boundary, but he soon leans forward, as if begging you to continue. 

"Tell me what you wanna do, Toya," You murmur as you trace your fingers below, and you feel his arousal through his jeans. 

"I wanna drown you in pleasure until you can't stop begging me for more," He whispers in your ear, "I wanna make you come until you can't fucking think." 

Zzzzip. 

His breath hitches as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling out his throbbing cock. Without a second thought, he pulls his fingers out of you and forces your pants down until they fall to your ankles. 

"I owe you, right?" You huff as he looks into your eyes, and he grins deviously. 

"I've wanted to fuck you so bad, princess," Toya rasps, his gravelly voice tingling your ears as his hot breath pants against your skin. You feel his hands reach underneath you, gripping the flesh on your ass as he picks you up, firmly pressing your back against the wall. You flinch when he presses the tip against your entrance. It's hot. Not too hot...but hot. 

"I'm gonna burn you from the inside out," He murmurs, his deep voice tilting on a villainous laugh. Your eyes widen, heart racing. When he notices, he clicks his tongue. 

"Just a figure of speech, princess. I'd never hurt you...not unless you wanted it," He snickers before slowly lowering you down onto his cock. You gasp as he slides in, eyes rolling back in your head. It's bigger than you expected. It feels like he's practically splitting you open, and the pain is daunting. Nonetheless, you can't help but crave more. You want him to break you. You want him to shove it as far as it'll go. You want him to rearrange your guts until your mind turns to mush. 

"Easy there, gorgeous," He purrs, gritting his teeth as he carefully forces himself all the way inside you. He shudders, and you manage to kick your pants all the way off before wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him inside. 

"Good girl," Toya groans, his lips curling into a predatory smirk as his eyes soften. He looks completely devoted. Consumed by twisted passion. His fingernails dig into your hips, threatening to break the skin. 

"My good girl," He adds before roughly planting his lips on yours. His tongue traces across the roof of your mouth, claiming every inch. Then, he starts thrusting up into you, and you practically see stars. The pain mixes with pleasure, shocks spreading from between your thighs as he fucks you, his breath panting in your ear as he presses himself against you. You can feel the heat coming off of his body. It's enough to make you feel like you're sweating. The sounds of his balls slapping against you with every deep, intense roll of his hips reaches your ears. If anyone else is out this late, all they have to do is turn the corner, and they'll see you getting railed by a murderer beside a sea of ashes. It's taboo. Everything about this screams wrong to you. This is Toya. Your best friend. Your dead best friend. Who seems to be psychotically obsessed with you in the most primal way. But...it all feels so right. You've never felt such gnawing pleasure in your entire life. It's coursing through your veins, boiling in your blood, beating in your heart and throbbing in your nethers. 

"Toya, don't stop," You plead pathetically, the raunchy moan seeming to drive him wild.

"Such a pretty little voice," He laughs darkly in your ear before deliberately picking up his rhythm, pounding into you. Your head spins, trying to decide whether or not the pain overshadows the pleasure. It feels like he's going to rip you apart from the bottom up. His thrusts become haphazard, and his voice becomes needy.

"Fuck," His voice breaks into a soft whine as you feel the warmth spreading inside you, filling you up. Breath hisses through your gritted teeth. You're so pent-up. You're far from your orgasm, despite how much you're enjoying this. Toya pulls back, his face inches away from yours, and he seems to notice your frustration. 

"No, no. We're not done. I'm not leaving until you've come for me," He sighs lustfully before adding, "Until I make you come for me."

You stare into those eyes again. Those burning beautiful blue eyes. 

"Besides," He pants as he slowly lifts you off of his cock, hands firmly gripping your ass, "We can't leave all that in there, now, can we?" 

Before you can register what's happening he lifts you up...and up...and up. He's surprisingly stronger than he looks...and he stops when your dripping slit is level with his face. You shake, partially terrified at how high you are off the ground, keeping your back pressed up against the wall. Your hands run through his hair, gripping to help ground you from the fear of falling. Toya looks up with an expression of pure worship, and you cry out as he dives between your legs, his warm tongue fully extended into you, working to lick you clean. The sounds are positively vile; the lewd slurping noises between your hips overpower all other sounds. You moan his name, your head leaning back against the wall as your eyelids flutter shut, focusing on the feeling of him devouring you. His tongue flexes, twisting in ways that seem improbable, leaving you whimpering for more. He laughs, his hot breath huffing against you as he presses his lips to your clit. You steal a glance to see his gaze fixated on you, staring into your fucking soul. His hands grip you rougher, making you wince as he suckles that sweet spot, tongue flicking against it in all the right ways. You feel yourself getting closer. His touch is so intoxicating. It's so otherworldly. It's so...good. You can't stop the sounds of pleasure coming out of your mouth, spilling from your lips like an ever-flowing waterfall. You feel the familiar clench in the pit of your stomach, and, suddenly, the climax hits you all at once. Your hands turn to fists in his hair, pulling him closer into you as you whimper and moan his name. Toya growls into your slit, the vibrations sending more sensations shooting through your body. Finally, you feel yourself coming down, and you release your grip on him. Toya leans back, looking up at you with dripping lips that he licks clean. He pants, as if out of breath, not breaking the haunting stare. 

"Do you want me to go back to watching in the shadows, princess, or can I get closer, now?"

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 12: Dinner

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Dearest gentle reader, welcome to another chapter of Nyra exists and Azriel is obsessed because who wouldn't want a morally grey, shadow-wielding, winged male obsessing over them?

Warnings: Azriel's wrath. It's mad. He's the Spymaster for a reason. Hints of lust here and there because he's obsessed with his mate.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

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Azriel's POV

"You're a real piece of work." Amren said, examining Nesta like a cat with her silver eyes.

"Why do your eyes glow?" Nesta asked coolly. Nyra looked at Amren's eyes, noticing the glow for the first time. She tilted her head, an action that indicated her confusion. Azriel felt a semblance of peace at how adorable Nyra looked like that. Like a curious innocent female he wanted to corrupt so badly.

"Don't you already know why?" Amren looked at Nesta and then at Nyra.

"Decorative purposes?" Nyra asked, knowing completely well that was not the case. Azriel felt mischief rise within her. She was starting to forget all the guilt and grief in relation to Feyre. Amren shot her a glare and Nyra raised her eyebrows, her chin dipping just a bit, inviting challenge.

"We are the same." Amren announced. The twins blinked and sat straight. "Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones..." Her eyes narrowed. "But... I see the kernel. The two of you did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not fit. And then the path changed. I know what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was."

"You're that old?" Nyra asked. Azriel couldn’t help but be in awe at the way her moods changed. From a bloody fucking panic attack not an hour ago, she’d hopped on to confusion and then a whole load of guilt and in between all of it, she’d flirted with Mor, started a weird sort of banter with Amren and he could not even understand her enough to predict what she’d feel the next moment. 

And this was… refreshing. 

A storm of emotions and how she carried all of them so openly. 

Nyra’s concern for Feyre after they met after the latter was Made. Scolding her sisters for going for each other’s throats during dinner. Laughing at the entirely wrong time when Nesta ignored Cassian and trying to cover it up with a cough. Her knowledge of the political situation in her part of the world. And the humour—fucking brilliant sense of humour. Flirtatious on occasion. Serious too. And she owned every last one of her feelings with such grace. 

Those newborns… they were born because of her. Because of how fascinated he’d been by her as their first meeting progressed.  

He remembered what he told her back then before leaving after Rhys had caught the Attor. “If fate wills it, we shall meet again.” The memory of him kissing her hand had the shadows around him fluttering. 

"Speak carefully, girl." Azriel returned to the real world when Amren delivered a warning. She took a sip from her goblet filled with blood and licked her red lips, her eyes narrowing into glare as a warning for Nyra. 

"A manner of speech unlike anyone else here despite the age gap of five centuries between us and them. Are you perhaps older?" Clearly, Nyra Archeron found it far too amusing to notice or if she did, she did not heed it but Azriel could feel the power rising to the surface. That feeling charged him from within.

"I am ancient." Amren watched like a predator ready to pounce. Nyra simply hummed. The petite female frowned.

"Older than ancient ruins?" Nyra felt the power within her rising. Allowing her to see so much about this seemingly delicate female.

Amren's silver orbs remained on Nyra. And Azriel's hand was already ready to unsheath the Truth-Teller. 

The ancient one smirked and raised her glass towards Nyra. "When you strike, girl, cleave through providence." She turned to Nesta. "And when you erupt, make sure it's felt across worlds." And she emptied the goblet, the blood staining her lips as she continued to smirk. "And keep off your silly dagger, shadowsinger."

Azriel continued to remain wary even as all eyes turned to him. His shadows danced wildly around him. Watching. Waiting for anyone to breathe wrongly. Mistress went into the shadows. Azriel froze immediately. He commanded more information. She was upset earlier. We went to her and took her with us. Her twin found her. He looked at Nyra in shock and slight fear. The shadows had claimed her. They had already started claiming her, even when she was mortal and now, they'd cemented it. She was crying. They sounded upset. 

For now, there were a few mysteries.

The shadows had only ever used words and phrases with him but now, they were using proper sentences.

The shadows never did anything without his instructions. Until Nyra. The little shits were always touching her. And now, they had taken her to the realm of shadows on their own accord.

How did Nesta find Nyra when she was in the shadows? Did it have anything to do with them being twins?

As he contemplated these new developments, Azriel watched the twins. Nesta Archeron had piqued his interest. He knew from Nuala and Cerridwen that twins shared a certain bond that siblings with age gaps did not. It had something to do with an exclusive connection forming between them during their time in the womb. And it was another matter that the Archeron twins were thrown into the Cauldron at the same time. Was there something more because of that?

Azriel figured the best way to distract himself tonight would be with the varieties of delicacies served for dinner tonight. He looked around, trying to identify which ones he'd prefer. The shadows kept telling him about the twins and how Feyre served the first dish to Nyra and from then on, the twins served their own food and passed the dishes around. Lucien Vanserra is nervous. Azriel looked at him to see the male looking at his food and looking around. He had been unconsciously placed at the head of the table with Nesta and Amren by his side.

"You get used to it—the informality." Feyre addressed Lucien.

"You say that, Feyre darling, like it's a bad thing." Rhysand served himself some trout before passing it to Feyre. She served herself before looking at Nyra questioningly. Nyra shook her head, took the dish and passed it to Nesta. Azriel observed her hesitation. She does not like trout.

"It took me by surprise that first dinner we all had, just so you know." Feyre's comment had Cassian snickering.

"Oh, I know." Rhys grinned.

"Honestly, Azriel is the only polite one." Cassian and Mor cried in outrage as Feyre said that but Azriel smiled a little and took a dish from Mor. "Don't even try to pretend that it's not true." A small ball of delight hit the shadowsinger in the chest when he saw that Nyra had taken the delicacy he had just served himself. Chicken roast. She might like it. He certainly did and now he'd wait for her verdict.

"Of course, it's true." Mor sighed. "But you needn't make us sound like heathens."

Azriel watched Nyra pick up her fork and play with the food for a few seconds before she took a bite. Her eyes widened a little and she took her next bite, thoroughly pleased by the taste. Azriel made another mental note. She likes roast chicken.

And that was enough information for the shadows to have another celebratory dance. The older shadows around him loved her but they could control themselves. In a sense, they were mature. Clearly not mature enough to go through one dinner without complimenting her, but at least they weren't singing and dancing like the younger ones wrapped quite literally around her fingers. They were small, their touch featherlight and they had already ascended to her wrists and above to give her space to handle cutlery.

“Do you like chicken?” Mor asked, a smile on her face. Nyra slowly nodded. “Then you should try it with this.” She passed a bottle of sauce but Nyra simply stared at it and looked back at Mor. What if she turned her gaze and looked at him? After all, he was sitting right next to Mor. And he fought a smile. A very difficult battle but he won.

Just as Nyra extended her hand to take the bottle of sauce, the younger shadows around her wrist darted forward to take it from Mor’s hand, taking care not to make contact with the latter’s skin. They opened it and set the bottle near Nyra’s plate. She smiled gently and whispered. “Thank you.” 

“Try it. Mor likes it and I tolerate it. It’s chili sauce. Spicy as it is, it’s quite good once you get used to it.” Rhys spoke as he looked at her. Nyra nodded and took a tentative bite and her eyes snapped to Mor who waited for the verdict. Nyra nodded with soft enthusiasm and then hummed before looking at Rhys who grinned with the raise of his glass. Azriel was observing everything. She liked it with that sauce.

The shadows near Azriel's ears were dancing with joy and subsequently, tickling his ears and irritating him. He banished them away from his ears and focused. He was the Spymaster. Surely he could spy on one female sitting across from him during dinner without his shadows.

“Thank you.” She addressed Mor once she had chewed and swallowed the piece in her mouth and then turned to Rhys and nodded at him. The High Lord lifted his spoon in acknowledgement and ate his peas.  

“So, what are your favourite foods?” Mor eagerly began. 

Nyra was silent for a while before she replied. Chocolate, Azriel noted. "My diet was regulated owing to my illness."

"You have no illnesses now." Amren spoke up. "Take complete advantage of that." Azriel hoped Nyra would enjoy the world and all that it had to offer now that she was no longer ill and had a long, immortal life ahead of her. Explore places. Eat foods from all over the world. Meeting new people, not in a romantic capacity else he'd accidentally slice their necks. Enjoy the weather—the sun, the rain, the snow. Everything she wanted, he'd lay down at her feet.

Nyra hummed thoughtfully, cutting through a particularly large piece of broccoli and asked. “Do you eat flesh too?”

The ancient one smirked. “What makes you think that?” 

“Bloodthirsty people being flesh eaters does not sound too odd.” Rhys spat his wine. Mor and Cassian laughed and Azriel smirked, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to restrain the laughter. Nyra and Nesta were the only ones who did not laugh—the former looking amused while the latter looked grumpy. Why was Nesta so grumpy?

“Troublesome female.” Amren spoke after the laughter had died down, a wicked smirk on her face as she imagined something that nobody was too eager to know. Nyra did not reply and resumed her meal. The chicken and potatoes and the broccoli, she decided, were too delicious to be ignored in favour of a bloodthirsty midget. "No, I don't." Amren's voice had Nyra looking at her again. "I don't eat flesh." 

Dinner progressed with Nesta telling Feyre about how she understood the difference between the food in Prythian and in the mortal lands. It was when Feyre brought up training with Cassian that Nyra paid attention. "What time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?"

"I'd say dawn but since I'm feeling rather grateful that you're back in one piece, I'll let you sleep in. Let's meet at seven."

"I'd hardly call that sleeping in." Feyre muttered.

"For an Illyrian, it is." Mor sighed again. Azriel was already starting to get irritated at the banter between Cassian and Mor and at his stupidity for situating himself between them. His peaceful observation was being interrupted by these loudmouths. His shadows were also joining that group anyway.

"Daylight is a precious resource." Cassian's wings rustled as he took mock offence.

"We live in the Night Court." Mor countered.

Cassian grimaced and turned to his brothers. "I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, they'd be nothing but trouble." Azriel did not bother paying him any mind.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "As far as I can recall, Cassian, you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day. And now, we have more pretty ladies with us." Rhysand threw a welcoming smile at the twins who were suddenly overwhelmed at the sudden ball of attention thrown towards them but they did acknowledge him with a nod of their heads.

"I was a young Illyrian and didn't know better." The movement of Azriel's shadows caught his attention and Cassian pointed a fork at his brother. "Don't try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing." Azriel sighed, annoyed at Cassian for not shutting up and letting him watch Nyra in peace.

"He did not." Mor objected. "Azriel has never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you." Cassian stuck out his tongue. Mor mimicked his action. Azriel, who sat between them, now regretted his choice of seat. He should have chosen the seat on Mor's other side. He would have had an easier time observing Nyra without the two chatterboxes of the millennia breathing down his neck.

"You'd be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. They'll cause nothing but trouble." Amren's words surprised Lucien. Nyra focused on her food while conversation progressed regarding the High Lords' Meet but then the mention of a Court of Nightmares seemed to have caught her attention.

"What is the Court of Nightmares?" Nyra asked Rhysand but it was Lucien who answered.

"The place where the rest of the world believes the majority of the Night Court to be. The seat of his power. Or it was." Nyra looked at the red-haired male.

Azriel was beginning to feel even more irritated. This Autumn-born was an unwelcome guest in their Court and he was already stealing her attention. Something within him stirred with rage. The thought of anyone other than him trying to do anything for her woke up all the wrath he had carefully concealed. And even when Cassian slung a seemingly friendly arm behind him, Azriel felt the strength in the warlord's grip.

Rhysand's presence waited for him outside his mind's realm. I urge you to calm down, Azriel. The Vanserra is here for his own mate, not her.

Then he should stay away from her. Azriel's response was cool but he knew that Rhysand understood his rage. He is responsible for their transformation. It was unbearably painful and traumatising for them.

Partially responsible, yes. Rhysand countered, trying to placate him but Azriel was having none of it.

The Cauldron did something to her. And her sisters. She died in there, Rhys. Very painfully. And he was complicit in how things turned out for all four of the Archeron sisters even if he has a mating bond leading to one of them. I don't understand why we are dining with him instead of taking him to the prisons. Azriel knew he had spoken more than he usually did. It was uncharacteristic of him but then again, he'd already lost his mate once and that made him immensely protective of Nyra. And the rage within him rose like the icy wind it was. Cold and unforgiving. 

Azriel knew his anger was something everyone feared, even Rhys. And this was the most powerful High Lord to ever exist. And that cold, cruel feeling continued to swirl within him like a blizzard. 

Azriel. Cassian's voice spoke. They're simply talking. 

He, who is responsible for the pain she endured, be it partially or wholly, is not worthy of her words or attention. Azriel declared his verdict. He could feel himself shaking.

His shadows were trying to calm him down by saying good things. Sweet memories of his mother. Her latest letter. How lovely his mate was. And how he had yet to tell his mother about his mate. The anticipation because his mother, the sweet female, had been waiting for him to bring home someone. Had prayed for him to meet someone who would love him. And here she was. The only female he was capable of loving. The shadows panicked and danced around him, ready to take him to the realm should he snap in front of Nyra. 

Oh, how he’d carve this Autumn-born. He’d start with that metal eye. Rip it out of him and crush it. He’d pour whiskey into the bleeding socket before pushing the crushed metal eye back into it. And Azriel would take his time. He’d cut and carve into his skin with the Truth Teller. 

Mistress is looking here. And at that, he froze. He finally noticed Nyra looking at him, doubt in her gaze. He noticed the ironclad grip on his shoulder by Cassian. Mor and Amren seemingly invested in the conversation but radiating their power subtly enough to put forward that they were ready to strike. By then, Rhys had taken over the conversation but the High Lord was ready with the night to restrain him. 

And then there was her. 

This beautiful, wonderful female. 

The way she was looking at him, ocean blue eyes wide and questioning. 

She’d guarded the heart of her youngest sister, the newest addition to his family, his sister. And now, he was ready to beg her to protect his own because he’d seen Feyre so happy whenever she talked about Nyra, was talking to Nyra, was even near her. The comfort Feyre had found in this female was something he’d started craving. He could see how Nyra sitting between her sisters was a good arrangement. Both Feyre and Nesta craved the comfort she’d offered. And in their own flawed way, they returned it. 

Was he capable of offering her comfort? Since it was for her, it could not be anything less than perfect and he was anything but. And that thought saddened him more than he expected. 

“Are you alright?” She mouthed the question, trying to ensure secrecy but everybody was focusing on their interaction except for Nesta and Feyre. Everybody pretended to be in a conversation to indulge the other Archerons at the table while she was asking him. How beautiful she’d be with his cock in that pretty mouth. Or maybe, he should make her beg. Or even scream. 

“Yes.” Azriel mouthed back. Erotic fantasies about Nyra were better than murderous fantasies about the Vanserra. Anger dissipated like the fog and she then smiled at the shadows which had tugged at her fingertips. She then looked at him with that smile and Azriel swore the moon rose in those blue eyes. 

Has she always been this impossibly enchanting? 

And what was that smile? 

Was she happy? 

If he kissed her right now, as her lips smiled at him, would he get a piece of that happiness for himself? 

Azriel stood up and nearly began leaning towards her before Cassian caught his arm and jerked it. He came to his senses and immediately knew everyone was looking at him. He spotted the first dish near her and took it, pretending that he’d needed to stand up for his hands to reach there. Just as he sat, Cassian coughed rather loudly. Of course, the bastards he had as brothers caught him. 

"It still is to everyone outside Velaris." Nyra turned to Rhys who had spoken. He nodded at her once before looking at Mor. "And yes, Keir's Darkbringer legion is considerable enough that a meeting is warranted."

"Why not just order them?" Nesta questioned, her brows narrowed. "Don't they answer to you?" At this point, the three Archerons turned their heads to Rhys simultaneously, waiting for him to answer.

Azriel watched them in surprise. The three Archeron sisters with startlingly similar features turning to look at Rhys was an incredible sight. Golden brown hair, blue eyes, fair skin glowing under the golden faelights. All of them were wearing something dark. When a lock of hair escaped their respective hairstyles and fell near their left ears as they immediately turned to face Rhys. When they placed their cutlery on their respective plates in unison. The way their hands rested on the table and they assumed the same posture as they waited for Rhysand to speak. It hit him too hard that these three were sisters, in blood and bond. No matter how fractured those bonds were.

"To think there's another one of them upstairs." Amren muttered, taking a heavy gulp of blood. It seemed the stark similarity in looks, postures and overall disposition as it seemed at the moment had caught everyone unawares.

"Unfortunately, there are protocols in place between our two sub-courts regarding this sort of thing." Cassian spoke, his back straightening when Nesta shifted her gaze from Rhys to him. "They mostly govern themselves with Mor's father—their steward." Nyra looked at the warlord sitting to Azriel's left. The shadowsinger noted how particularly different Cassian behaved around Nesta and how Nyra had noticed the same.

"The steward of Hewn City is legally entitled to refuse to aid my armies." Once again, the three sisters turned to Rhysand. "It was a part of the agreement my ancestor made with the Court of Nightmares all those thousands of years ago. They would remain within that mountain, would not challenge or disturb us beyond its borders... and would retain the right to decide not to assist in war."

"And there are no loopholes in this agreement?" Nyra asked. He could feel her thinking. He could not discern her exact thoughts but he was glad at the way her mind had been distracted from the grief and guilt she was consumed by earlier.

"None that we have identified so far." Rhys answered.

"And have they refused?" Feyre asked.

Morrigan's fumbled response brought Nyra to another realisation. And as dinner progressed, Azriel felt her as she let her grief be a forgotten thing. The conversation continued regarding the Court of Nightmares and Feyre's training with Cassian.

"Let's train at eight tomorrow. I'll meet you in the ring." Feyre spoke after the silence in the wake of their discussion on the Court of Nightmares.

"Seven thirty." Cassian countered with a grin.

"Eight." Feyre tried to. negotiate. "Care to join, you two?"

"No." Nesta's answer was final, not inviting any negotiations.

"Nyra?" Feyre tried. Nyra was in the middle of looking at the table for broccoli. She looked to her right to her youngest upon being called. 

"What exactly are you training for?" Nyra asked and then took a bite of the chicken, resuming her search.

"Combat." Cassian grinned at her. "What are you looking for?"

"Care to elaborate? I'm looking for broccoli." Cassian noted that the bowl of vegetables including the broccoli was next to Mor. He spoke to Nyra and tried to keep her attention as much as possible while Mor discreetly pushed the bowl as quietly as possible to Azriel's part of the table. The shadowsinger looked at her once and nodded.

"You'd learn to be a badass like me."

"I highly doubt anybody wants to be like you, Cassian." Mor interjected. Azriel quietly lifted the bowl and stretched his arm. Nyra extended her own arm to take the bowl from him.

Azriel always wore fingerless gloves and today was no exception. It concealed his scarred hands as much as possible but the fingers were bare in case he needed to write or handle small objects. And right now, he felt Nyra's fingers brush against his under the bowl as she took it from him. He froze and slowly withdrew his hands. Soft hands. He wanted to hold them. Feel her hands on his chest, his neck. Wanted them tugging on his hair. And he’d die if one of them ever descended and snuck inside his pants.

"Moving on from that unsolicited comment, you'd be learning to control your breathing, balance your body, work on your muscles, throw nasty punches, wield weapons. Basically, you'd be a badass at fighting like me." Cassian already sounded excited at the possibility of teaching another Archeron how to fight.

"I'm sorry, Cassian, but I cannot participate."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you want to stay grumpy and read all day like your twin." Cassian's gaze turned to Nesta who was doing her best at pretending that she was not the centre of his attention. Azriel did not know whether to envy his brother at being able to confidently look at Nesta even when the female seemed confused between killing him and fucking him.

"Reading is fun." Nyra frowned. "Being grumpy is not my preferred method of passing time. But I want to focus on training my magic. It is,” she lifted her left hand and looked at it. Lightning crackled between her fingertips. “Rather dangerous and I might end up hurting someone if I don’t learn how to control this.”

“I’ll help you with that.” Rhysand offered. 

“Nonsense. I’ll teach you. Both of you.” Amren declared and waited for anyone to challenge her decision. Nobody dared. Azriel wondered how this little demon would be while teaching the sisters. He’d have to monitor for the first few days at least. Cauldron knew whether the mouse-sized female would terrorise Nyra. And maybe not even the Cauldron would know how Nyra would react to that. As endearing as it was to him, Nyra’s moody self might not be appreciated everywhere. 

“Why the sudden interest, Amren?” Feyre asked teasingly.

“Your sisters, High Lady, possess powers like no other. They require training not only to wield it effectively and efficiently but also to keep themselves from harm.” Amren left it at that. 

****

"The King of Hybern." Feyre breathed deeply. And at the mention of the scum, everyone felt the power shift. The Archeron twins' eyes began glowing, albeit faintly. Nyra gripped the arms of her chair and Nesta clenched her fists. Azriel swallowed, trying to keep away the envy against the arms of the chair. To keep away the question as to why it was not his hands or arms that she was gripping so tightly. Those beautiful hands, as small as they were in comparison to his own, had quite the grip as observed by his shadows. Would she hold his arms or shoulders that tightly when he’d thrust into her? Would she scratch his back and mark him? 

"The king is trying to bring down the wall." Nyra began calming down, her curiosity taking over her rage slowly. She turned to Feyre, a silent command to continue speaking. "By using the Cauldron. There are already holes in it and he wants to expand them. I might be able to patch up these holes, but you... being made of the Cauldron itself... if the Cauldron can widen those holes, perhaps you can close them, too. With training in whatever time we have."

Nyra looked at Feyre, as if she were assessing something. "Fine. I'll do it." She turned to Amren. “Do you have anything introductory for me to read through the night or will your lessons be completely practical?” 

Amren brought her palm forward and a few books appeared. And then they vanished. “They’re in your room. Read as much as you can before tomorrow morning. We start at ten. And before you ask, it’s their responsibility to bring you lot to the city whenever you need.” 

“How do you expect her to read those overnight?” Cassian sounded outrageously shocked. 

“We will see that tomorrow.” Amren smirked at the spark in Nyra’s eyes. A challenge had been ignited. Azriel felt Nyra’s determination to win. What he did not realise was the quiet wave of encouragement he had sent across the bond. Nyra’s eyes widened at the warm feeling rising within her and before she could dwell on it any more, Feyre addressed Nesta.

"What about you?"

The sisters stared at each other impassively. "Fine." Nesta spoke in the same tone Nyra had—giving up the stubbornness.

"Good. We'll go to the Court of Nightmares with you and find objects for practice." Amren clapped her hands once.

"What?" Feyre immediately looked at the delicate female, the idea of her sisters going to the Court of Nightmares appalling to her. 

"Let the girls get a feel of something like the wall or like the Cauldron." Amren added when Azriel seemed poised to object. "Covertly."

“Is there something in the Court of Nightmares we should be worried about?” Nyra asked casually but the silence that followed was not so casual.

“The Night Court does not exactly have the best reputation.” Lucien spoke, breaking the silence. Cassian cursed and Azriel could feel his anger rise again and be a palpable thing that demanded he tear the red headed male to shreds. Nyra looked at Lucien and Azriel would have roared in anger if it weren’t for Rhysand’s presence right outside his mental shields, trying to subdue the beast that was him. 

Nevertheless, the Autumn-born continued oblivious to the bloodlust rolling off the shadowsinger. Bloodlust that was warded by Mor and Amren, Cassian physically restraining him and Rhys casting and maintaining a mental shield. 

Lucien continued. “To outsiders, this place is cold and cruel and Rhysand is a merciless High Lord. They believe it to be a structure of Hel in the land of the living and equally, if not more miserable.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Nyra spoke, her impatience rising. 

“This reputation stems from the way he holds court and from now on, how Rhysand and Feyre will hold court. He rules over them with an iron fist like some dark lord and it feels like a mausoleum in there. Blood and deceit coat those walls. People adorn masks to pretend like every gathering is a luxurious party when it’s just the inhabitants of Hewn City putting up a performance so that Rhys is not displeased.”

“And what happens when Rhysand is displeased?”

“The general executes. The spymaster tortures. Anything could happen.” 

And Azriel froze at what Lucien had revealed about him to Nyra. At the implications of it. How it could influence her opinion on him. On his family. He looked at Rhysand. Why did you not silence him?

She would have found out sooner or later. She will make her judgement after seeing us in the Court of Nightmares. Rhys sounded worried even after he said this. As if it was not only meant to convince Azriel but also himself. 

She deserves to be at peace. You of all people know how being strong can tire your spirits. She needs time to process this transition before she’s introduced to other horrors. Azriel all but yelled at his brother.

And I have no doubt you’d make it painful for anyone who dares to breathe wrong near her. Rhysand nodded once. We all will. The sisters won’t be harmed, not by any member of my Court or by any power in the Night Court territory so long as I’m alive. This is my promise. Azriel felt the tingling sensation of a bargain near his left waist. And even with a bargain, the shadowsinger was not in favour of this. 

Nyra could be taken to the Court of Nightmares after some time. After she had time to process all the trauma she had been recently subjected to. He seriously debated what was worse—facing horrors one after the other or facing them all at once. Nyra did note once that the former was what Nesta had gone through. He’d understood enough to know that Nesta’s mental health was in a very fragile condition.

Azriel only wanted Nyra to have enough time to process the transition before she learned about everything. He’d personally teach her as much as he could. He had no intentions of hiding or sugarcoating anything. He simply wanted her to have enough time to cope with the trauma and the stress it brought. 

Silence ensued. Feyre waited for Nesta to say something because this Archeron had been glaring at her plate for too long. To kill all hope. But she posed another question. "Why not just kill the King of Hybern before he can act?"

The shadow of death seemed to loom above them. Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, and Azriel, the shadowsinger, seemed to thrive off of it. Nyra and Nesta felt at ease, as though they were home. Death really seemed to be a comfort space for the four of them.

The room descended into the cold as Nesta’s eyes burned silver. The younger shadows around Nyra were trying to create a wall between the twins out of fear for their mistress’ safety. A few of his older shadows joined the endeavour. His hand went to the hilt of the Truth Teller. And with everyone on guard at how Nesta could release her mysterious power, Nyra’s hand broke through the shadowy barrier and grabbed her twin’s hand. Lightning crackled just a bit. Enough to jolt Nesta out of her trance. 

Silver bled into blue and Nyra released her hand. Nesta looked at her twin once and nodded. The twins resumed eating as though nothing had happened. As if Nesta’s presence had not suddenly made them feel like they were in a battlefield with their lives endangered. 

"If you want his killing blow, it's yours. Both of you." Amren said, her voice taking an understanding note. 

And as Nesta looked at Amren with the eyes of a predator, Nyra clenched her hands. She had already abandoned her cutlery but the way her power roared like a storm within her was becoming too much. She needed an outlet. The shadows around her wrists started tickling her hands and she was too scared of releasing her grip. Too scared of letting the power go away. And the storm was becoming uncontrollable. 

Azriel was beside her in an instant, his large hands covering her own. “Let it out.” That was all she heard. 

Thunder roared in the skies above Prythian. Lighting flashed a great many times. Nyra’s breathing became heavier. The shadows swarmed around her body and the darkness consumed them. She felt herself in an embrace, warm and strong. Nyra whimpered, her power starting to become painful. And through the bond, Azriel felt it all. And he held her through all of it. 

She released her power in that realm of shadows, enough to tire herself out. Azriel was surprised by how welcoming the shadows were. How the realm had welcomed the roar of her storms so easily. And he realised that this was not a change. It was a preexisting factor. And that the shadows were waiting for her just as much as him, if not more. The compatibility of his shadows with her lightning was showing itself. 

Her eyes glowed and her neck craned. She trembled under the weight of her own power, groaning and nearly screaming under the weight of her own power. Mistress. Lightning. Perfect. The shadows caressed her arms and hands. Azriel’s hands were on her waist and head, holding her close. 

“Nyra.” He called out when the lightning had stopped roaring. 

“Azriel?” Her voice was so small and confused, he was beginning to worry. “Where are we? Why is it so dark?”

“We are in the shadows.” He responded, worried about how she’d take that news but he couldn’t lie to her. She did not deserve to be lied to.

“I think I was here before.” Her voice was a clear indication of her tired state. She had released so much power that he clearly understood that she could take down all the High Lords and their armies easily. He could imagine the extent of her power if she were to be taught how to control it.

“Yes. The shadows told me that they brought you here earlier.”

Nyra did not say anything and he continued to hold her. 

“Are you embracing me?” Nyra asked. He could feel her hands trying to move around to analyse their surroundings only to fail because he was holding her close. 

“Yes.” His grip on her loosened and his soul faltered at the possibility of her not wanting his touch. After all, how could these desecrated hands touch her? However worthless he was, he did not want her to remain in the shadows if she was uncomfortable here. 

“Do you want me to release you? I must tell you that we do need to maintain contact to navigate back safely but we can simply hold hands.” And even when he’d used the word ‘simply’, there was nothing simple about holding her hand. How had he not already fainted? 

Nyra’s hands rose and her palms found his chest, fingers curling to grab the fabric. Azriel was suddenly afraid of breathing. Of making a single sound. He would have willed his heart to still if he could since it was beating so loud and fast. Her fingers were so gentle as they found his shirt to hold. 

“Did I hurt the shadows?” She asked softly. Azriel could hear the shadows whisper to him. How touched they were by her concern for them. “Did I hurt you?” It was a good time to fall into a ditch and stay there because Azriel severely doubted whether his knees had enough strength to stand and to not falter as he held her. 

“No, we’re fine.” He felt her shift, move just a bit to the back. If they could see each other, they would probably be looking at each other’s faces. 

“Are you sure?” She sounded determined to know if she’d hurt him or the shadows even in the slightest. And with that sweet voice of hers, she’d awakened something so wholly pure within him that he’d doubted whether that feeling would be corrupted by existing inside someone like him even if it was his own. 

Azriel had already believed that he was in heaven as he embraced her. Was it not the best thing to be able to touch her even though he was an undeserving bastard from the dirt? But he was a selfish bastard. And that selfishness demanded that he take every scrap she’d leave in her wake. Anything she’d throw at him. 

“Az?” That was the first time she’d called him by that nickname and his heart leaped to his throat at the realisation.

“Yes?” He held her because he was afraid to let go. And it felt good to take a page from her book and start acknowledging that. Not that he’d ever say it out loud but he was afraid. He’d lost his mate once and he certainly had no intentions of letting her go to some place he couldn’t follow. Or maybe, he could. He could follow her. The shadows let him travel anywhere and if she were to go to the afterlife like last time, he’d simply follow. The Truth Teller was always with him so he wouldn’t have much trouble arranging his own death. 

“I’m so tired.” She felt so much fear and pain and confusion and Azriel felt it all. He wondered whether being able to feel her through the bond helped her. If he could at least take a part of that pain for himself. 

“Go to sleep, Nyra. I’m right here.” The hand on her head began patting her. After a few moments, the hand stopped patting and began stroking her hair. Azriel pushed wave after wave of calm towards the bond and he felt her breathing slow down. And like a baby, she was asleep in his arms.

****

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[cyberslvts]

PAS DE DEUX || w.maximoff

Summary you grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled

Warnings: angst, brief arguing, happy endings, kissing, forbidden love, allusions to homophobia, secret romance, my fav sappic balerinas, they r so cute im gonna sob!!

Pairing: ballerinaWanda! x ballerina!reader

WC: 3.5k

Note: this was sm fun to write i am obsessed

———

In the heart of the cold city, hidden behind a façade of faded grandeur, stood the enigmatic Thornfield School of Ballet. Within its dimly lit corridors and ornate ballrooms, the ethereal art of ballet was practiced with an intensity that mirrored the shadows that danced upon the walls. It was here that you found solace, your delicate movements and haunting grace resonating with the melancholic melodies that echoed through the grand hallways.

The Thornfield Opera House stood silent and grand, its vast expanse illuminated only by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the tall, arched windows. The night felt like it swallowed you. The silence and loneliness of the dark gave you a heightened sense of focus. Dressed in a simple leotard and ballet skirt, you moved gracefully to the center of the stage. The empty red velvet seats, normally bustling with anticipation, now looked like slumbering sentinels in the darkness.

You were a brilliant and elegant dancer, the prima ballerina of the Thornfield Ballet School. Your every step seemed to weave magic, casting a spell over the audience with each performance. The years of training and dedication cultivated you so that you weren't just a dancer but a conduit for the very essence of the art form.

A sigh escaped your lips as you raised your arms, the opening strains of a haunting melody filled your ears. The music existed within the depths of your memory, each note etched into your soul. It was a melody only you could hear, a secret dance between you and the music of your heart.

With a deep breath, you began to move. Each step was deliberate, each extension of your limbs an expression of the emotions that swirled within you. The moonlight cast delicate shadows that danced along with you, a spectral audience that whispered its approval in the rustling of fabric

Your body twisted and turned across the stage and the opera house felt as if it came alive around you. The soft echos of your footfalls echoed throughout the grand hall, filling the space with a magical resonance.

The empty velvet red chairs surrounded you, blurring into a hue of gold and scarlet as you spun and twirled across the stage. The spotlight illuminated your form, casting long, enchanting shadows that stretched toward the edges of the grand hall. Your body seemed to merge with the haunting music, each note a whispered secret between you and the piano keys

You imagined thousands of eyes on you, each one locked in a mesmerizing trance that only you could break. You lost yourself in the dance, completely surrendering yourself to the music's embrace.

The final strains of the music echoed through the hall, and you froze in a final, breathtaking pose. The world felt like it held its breath for a moment before a figure emerged from the shadows of the audience.

“You know I don't like it when you come and watch me unannounced”

You spoke into the dark crowd. You didn't even need to see her to know who she was. A vibrant flash of red hair was illuminated by the spotlight as she stepped onto the stage.

“You’re glowing my love, How could I not stay and watch” she voiced, coming across the stage, wanting to be closer to you.

Wanda Maximoff, the embodiment of enigmatic allure, graced the Thornfield Opera House with a presence that demanded attention. With each step she took, the air seemed to shift around her, charged with an energy that was at once magnetic and captivating. A vibrant mane of crimson hair framed her face like a fiery halo, accentuating her aura of intensity.

As one of Thornfield's top dancers, Wanda's brilliance on stage was undeniable. Her movements bore the hallmark of a maestro, each gesture calculated and precise, cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. her performances left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who witnessed them.

The contrast between your styles was like a beautifully orchestrated duet: While you danced with the gentle grace of a waltz, guided by the melodies that flowed through your soul, Wanda's dance was a tempestuous tango, a dance with the shadows and the edge of passion. Her movements were sharper, her steps darker, and her presence engulfed the stage like a storm, leaving no corner untouched by her intensity.

Where your dance was a soothing balm, Wanda's was a consuming fire. Your elegance and grace resonated like a sonnet, whereas Wanda's movements told a story of calculated power. In your delicate pirouettes and fluid arabesques, there was a serenity that brought solace to the heart, like a gentle lullaby. But in Wanda's commanding leaps and controlled spins, there was a darkness that beckoned, a realm where passion and pain coexisted.

Wanda Maximoff, with her entrancing presence and mesmerizing dance, had woven her way into your heart in ways you never imagined. From the first time you saw her onstage, you were already hers. The secret romance that blossomed between you two was a delicate tapestry of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and the softest of touches. Your attachment to her felt like poisonous vines, both intoxicating and dangerous. Squeezing around your heart until there was no escaping its grip.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the intensity of your feelings for Wanda began to stir a twinge of fear deep within you. The opera house, was a haven for your love, a place where you and Wanda could share stolen moments in the shadows. Yet, the world outside those walls was a different story altogether.

The truth was, relationships like yours and Wanda's were not welcomed with open arms within the confines of Thornfield. The Society's rigid expectations and conservative norms casted a long shadow over any love that dared to deviate from the conventional path. If your feelings were exposed, you both knew that you would face the harsh reality of ostracization. Given your elevated position within the ballet company, the fallout could be even more devastating. You yearned to dance freely with Wanda, to hold her close without the weight of hidden affections, but the thought of the world discovering your love kept you trapped in a ruthless cycle of avoidance.

As she began to approach you, you instinctively turned away, a motion that caused a flicker of hurt to cross Wanda's expression. Her smile faltered, and you silently crossed the stage, heading toward the speaker in order to switch to a different song.

“I need to practice, Wanda,” you spoke without facing her, hoping she would take the hint to leave you.

"You've been avoiding me," she suddenly declared, her voice ringing out in the open space. She came to a halt at the center stage, her gaze fixed firmly on your form. The intensity of her eyes holding you in place.

The intimacy you shared with her had grown to such profound heights that the mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. Each stolen kiss and every whispered promise felt like a thread connecting you to a love that was becoming too powerful to be contained. And so, you found yourself avoiding her, retreating into the shadows like a fragile creature seeking solace from the storm.

In your heart, you knew that Wanda sensed your distance, your absence from her side even in a crowded room. The weight of your unspoken emotions was presence, that casted a shadow over your every interaction. She, with her intuitive nature, surely understood that something was wrong, even if the words went unspoken.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," you deflected, your voice tinged with a hint of unease.

“Yes, you do.” Her strides toward you were purposeful, carrying an air of frustration and longing

“You've stopped meeting me in the garden. you leave your door locked at night. You won't even look at me during rehearsal.” The light in her eyes dimmed, mirroring the distance that had inadvertently arisen. She, no doubt, grappled with the same intensity of your connection, the love that had burgeoned between you.

The guilt gnawed at you, knowing that Wanda deserved more than your silence, more than your hesitation. She deserved the world, and yet here you were, your heart caught in a tug-of-war between your love for her and the fear that had taken root within you.

"I've just been busy," you offered, your voice lacking the conviction it needed. The truth was, you couldn't bring yourself to lie, especially not to Wanda. Without meeting her gaze, you brushed past her, your eyes fixed on the sea of empty chairs as you prepared for the next song.

"Just as I said, I need to practice. I don't have time for this," you continued, your words slightly rushed, a veil of anxiety underscoring them. The show was fast approaching, and the pressure weighed heavily on you. "The performance is on Friday, and I barely have my part of the pas de deux down, and—"

"Fine then, I'll stay and help you," she interrupted, her voice carrying an unwavering determination. Wanda understood you better than anyone else. She knew that ballet was your lifeblood, your very essence. If that was the avenue she had to take to reach you, then so be it.

As the music began to fade in, she moved closer, bridging the gap between you. You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in your eyes. Was she serious?

Although Wanda wasn't your official partner in the pas de deux, her innate talent and brilliance made it easy for her to memorize the choreography. She had watched the routine countless times, During rehearsals, you'd often catch her gaze fixed on you, burning ache evident in her eyes. You wished it was her presence by your side, her soft, delicate hands on you, instead of the rough masculine ones whisking you through the air.

She took your hand in hers, her touch a warm reassurance that sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced at her one last time before the dance commenced, your movements seeming almost too deliberate, lacking the usual fluidity that came so naturally to you. Every step felt calculated as if you were trying to maintain a distance that your heart was struggling to obey. Wanda's gaze, however, remained fixed on you, unwavering and intense.

With each movement, her eyes searched yours, probing for answers to the questions you hadn't voiced. The emotions that played across her face were a silent plea, a desperate attempt to understand the reason behind your avoidance. Yet, even as you tried to keep your focus on the dance, the intensity of her gaze was a distraction you couldn't escape.

“Relax,” Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her hands on your waist guiding your movements. Your arms extended gracefully on each side, and your toes pointed delicately against the smooth wooden stage

In that instant, Wanda's movements shifted, becoming more edged and intense. She led you through a series of intricate steps, each one a silent declaration of her love and devotion to you. As the music swelled, your bodies came alive, moving in perfect synchrony. You began with a series of intertwining pirouettes, your movements mirroring Wandas with an effortless harmony. With every rotation, your eyes met briefly, a fleeting connection that spoke volumes beyond words.

You battled with your own emotions, your heart warring with your mind. You were determined to maintain the distance you believed was necessary to protect yourself and Wanda from the intensity of your shared feelings. The love you felt for her was a tempestuous sea, and you feared being swept away by its currents.

Yet, As you moved as one there was an undeniable chemistry, an untamed force driving you towards her. Her eyes followed your every move, filled with a love that yearned to be free from constraints.

Wanda's touch was gentle yet firm, her hands on your waist guiding your movements with a confidence that only came from a deep understanding. As you twirled and spun, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where the intensity of your love was matched only by the beauty of your dance.

When the music built to its crescendo, Wanda's grip on you tightened her touch a grounding force in the midst of your internal storm. And in that final, breathtaking pose, as the music lingered in the air, your eyes locked onto each other's, a world of unspoken words passing between you.

As your heavy breathing slowed, the moment was broken when you turned away, walking out of her embrace,

“Why won't you just let me love you,” her voice echoed in the space, a plea that hung in the air like an unanswered question.

"Because I can't, Wanda," You whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The reality of the situation weighed heavily, the knowledge that your love existed in a world that did not understand.

“Yes, you can” she countered, coming closer to you.

“People will find out. And when they find out theyll talk.” you exasperated, The weight of the world's judgment pressed down on you, suffocating the love that burned within you.

Wanda turned to face you, her expression determined. "Then hide me. Lock me away from the world if you have to," She breathed out, her voice carrying a plea that mirrored the depth of her feelings. She was willing to sacrifice her visibility, her place in the world, if it meant keeping your love intact. “I just want to be with you Y/n. Why can't you see that?”

It was your deep affection for her that filled you with guilt, knowing that she deserved better than waht you were giving her. You believed she deserved someone who would cherish her openly, free from the shackles of secrecy that bound your love. Wanda's passion, her unwavering commitment, made your heart ache with love for her, but it also filled you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. You loved her so much that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to see her happy.

“I can't do that to you, Wanda.” Guilt welled up inside you, emotions spilling over like a river bursting its banks. “You deserve to be with someone different. Someone who can love you without fear.”

“But I don't want that!” Her breathing was heavy and her, eyes burned with anger. "I am yours, Y/n," she declared, her voice sharp with passion. "All I want in return is your love, And you can't even give me that.”

You noticed how her bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly, just like it always did when she was trying not to cry.

The pain of your recent avoidance cut deep into her heart, leaving a constant ache that refused to subside. All she wanted was you, all she ever wanted was you, and your unmistakable withdrawal over the past few months had left her feeling lost in a suffocating pit of self-doubt. Why were you so eager to get away from her? Why couldn't she make you stay, even when she had tried her hardest? Was she not good enough to hold your attention?

These questions ate away at her and she had never felt so small, like an insignificant fragment in a world that once felt whole.

“You ignore me and push me away without any explanation.” Her voice was loud as it echoed across the stage. The hurt and insecurity painted on her face. “You're always leaving me. It's like you don't even care about my feelings!”

“Of course I care about your feelings” You turned to her, your own anger begining to rise up inside you. “You’re all I think about, everything I do is for you!”

Every choice you had made was for Wanda, every step you had taken was to protect her from the storm that could come crashing down upon you both. Your love was genuine, but the fear was suffocating, threatening to eclipse everything

"You think this isn't hard for me?" your voice cracked with frustration, your eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. "I am terrified, Wanda. Every time I see you or feel you, it's like I'm drowning in the fear of what could happen.”

"You make me feel things I never wanted to feel," your breath came out in rapid bursts, as your vision became clouded by tears. "And I'm afraid that those feelings will be written all over me,” Your emotions began to feel overwhelming, the room closing in around you, suffocating you with its walls and the weight of your fear. “So this is the only way I know how to keep us safe, to keep you safe." Your words were punctuated by a sob, choked and raw. The walls you had erected were crumbling, and you were left standing bare before Wanda.

“and It's hard Wanda, it's so fucking hard. I miss you, all the time.” the confession tumbled out, your voice breaking as tears cascaded down your cheeks, the floodgates finally opening.

At the sight of your panicked tears, Wanda immediately rushed to you, her steps were loud across the stage until she caught you in her embrace, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, comforting hold, Wishing she could take away all the pain and fear you felt at that moment.

“Im sorry, Im sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell.” The tenderness in her voice was like a soothing balm, her arms holding you even tighter, as you fell into her body.

"I can’t-” You gasped, The fabric of her shirt absorbed the tears that fell from your eyes, “I cant loose you wanda”

The sobs that wracked your body were a release, a catharsis of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.

“You’re not. You are absolutely not losing me,” she reassured you, her words slightly muffled as she pressed kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. You instinctively clung onto her, worried she would disappear.

With her arms wrapped around you, Wanda's touch became your anchor. Her hands moved in tender circles on your back, a gesture of comfort that sent ripples of calm through your frazzled nerves. At that moment, the world seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an intimate haven of solace

Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing relaxed against her. Her breath brushed against your ear, her voice was a gentle whisper, "I can't be without you, y/n" she admitted, spilling out the truths in her heart. “I know you're scared but please don't push me away.” The tenderness in her voice deepened as she continued, her words a balm to your fears. “I don't know what will happen in the future but I can swear to you that im not going anywhere.”

In those words, a sense of solace enveloped you, like a gentle embrace for your weary heart. With her by your side, the fear that had kept you captive began to lose its grip, replaced by a flicker of hope and the reassurance that you didn't have to carry the burden alone.

“Im sorry I avoided you” You whispered not bringing your gaze up to face Wanda as if you were hiding from your actions. “I was awful. I should have just talked to you.”

Wanda brought her hand to your chin tilting your face up until your eyes met hers.

"It's okay, I know you're trying to protect us both," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "But you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens, We can face it together."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting Wanda's words melt into your skin. The attentiveness of her understanding touched you deeply, and You started to wonder how you could ever be away from her.

“I love you, so much,” you confessed hoping she could feel your sincerity “And i’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didnt.”

Her relief evident in her smile. She cupped your face, her touch grounding you in the present moment. Wanda leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

“I love you, more than you could ever know.”

In that stolen moment on the stage, beneath the watchful eyes of the empty velvet seats, your love was a dance in itself – a dance of vulnerability and strength, of passion and tenderness. And as you held each other close, you knew that the opera house, with all its secrets and faded grandeur, held a space where your love could flourish, defying the boundaries of time and circumstance.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Oh, I have an idea for a Mermay! If you would like to write it: merformers Megatron being tangled in a net or something and the waves threw him on the beach and he can't go back to water. When the (gn) reader finds him he's scared that they will use his vulnerable moment to hurt him but they go like: "Wow! You're gorgeous! Oh! And you need my help!" And they help untangle him and roll him back to the sea. What do you think?

Absolutely! Mermay may have passed but I'll still be answering these asks because I'm slow, so don't worry if you left any but I haven't answered yet! Also feel free to leave more as it turns out I really like writing merbots!

Apologies for the low writing volume as of late, the hits just keep on coming, and with my area of the country taking wildfire smoke I swear thinking has never felt more difficult...

Megatron was certain he was done for.

He should have known his fate was sealed the moment the harpoon had pierced his side, especially with the weight of a powerful net dragging on his every move and tangling his limbs the more he struggled, but he'd dared to hope he had a chance after managing to swim away. It was only when exhaustion had allowed the waves to force him to shore, his colossal frame crashing against the rocks in a heap so tangled he was effectively immobilized, that he had accepted the inevitable. All the weary old mech could hope for now was to be finished off by the harpoon before he was discovered by those who'd wounded him.

Memories of a long, violent life played before his optics as the waters receded and the stars began to fade with the arrival of the day, the cries of seagulls growing louder as they woke to feed and curiously circled overhead. It wasn't the end he'd wanted, but it also didn't surprise him in the slightest. He'd never been able to find peace, as the scars across his frame could attest, so he could have predicted his spark extinguishing under such painful circumstances. Perhaps the Allspark would finally allow him to rest...

He was so exhausted he barely heard the soft patter of bare feet approaching over stone and sand. 

You had been hoping to find treasures from the sea along the rocky shore when you'd woken up well before the crack of dawn, but as you approached the massive unknown thing that had washed up overnight, you couldn't have prepared for what greeted the beam from your flashlight. Silver armor tangled within the heaviest netting you'd ever seen was all you could make out at first, but more careful observations revealed a fluke the size of a large tree trunk, atop which you found a massive metal torso with its limbs bound at the front. Your heart hammered as you approached despite your better judgment, some unspeakable instinct telling you that the being before you was in a great deal of pain. You realized you were beholding a real live Thalassicon the moment your light found his face and he opened a pair of brilliant red optics, their pale iris constricting then dilating as they focused on your eyes. Fear reflected between the both of you in equal measure.

When he returned to his prone position as if to surrender without a fight, you caught a wince of pain and a pink glow along his side, which brought your eyes and the flashlight beam to a massive harpoon jutting from behind his arm. Instinctive concern welled up within you, and the haggard breaths from his vents made you certain he was enduring a great deal of agony despite his calm appearance. No amount of common sense could compel you to leave anyone to so much suffering. Coming round to his head, you aimed the flashlight to the ground so as not to strain his optics. 

"Do you... need help?" you asked uncertainly, not sure how to better phrase the question. 

He looked back at you, making a sound like a strained scoff of disbelief. His voice rumbled like a heavy wave rolling over a rocky shore as he rested his helm against the stone. "Would it matter if I did?"

"I... think so? Because I can probably help you out a bit." you said, getting a bit more of a hold over yourself. It seemed likely that you could help him escape the net, but you were going to need him to work with you, and even if he'd given up you weren't about to just let him die. Loving the ocean extended to everything living within, and that included Thalassicons, as alien to the planet as they may have been. Reaching for the tiny toolkit you kept in your bag, you were surprised when the production of a small knife made the mech tense in alarm.

"Why are you here? Are more of you coming?" he asked with his full attention on the little blade. It wasn't enough to do more than cause him a minor bit of harm, but as he'd already endured plenty of that, he had no interest in letting blind trust cost him an optic. You seemed surprised and confused by the question, which ironically made him trust that you weren't planning any harm. Humans had never bothered to feign kindness for him anyway.

"There might be more people coming once the sun actually comes up, but I tend to be the only one up this early." you explained, trying to answer the question as best you could. The answer made him tilt his helm and raise a brow, compelling you to elaborate further. "Now's the best time to collect shells. The tide is going out, but no one else is up yet. Anyway, I just got this knife, let me see if it's sharp enough to cut you free."

"You're very trusting. Are you not afraid of my kind?" he asked before you could begin, giving you a bit of pause. The whole situation was odd, but you were quite perplexed as to why this very obviously struggling bot would try so hard to convince you not to help him. It only made you all the more determined to help, but it seemed you would need to convince him not only of your intentions, but to work with you to save himself. 

"I've never actually met a Thalassicon before, but you all don't seem to start fights with humans most of the time." you said as you put the flashlight down and aimed it over where you'd be working. Dropping to your knees but keeping a final foot of space between you both, you held up your tiny knife and gestured to his tangled limbs, certain you could work at least one free with enough cutting. "If I help you get your arms free, can you pull yourself out of this net?"

Still burnt out on hope, Megatron didn't dare to believe he was really getting out of this situation, but decided he had nothing better to do than play along. Even if you were some kind of government agent playing a long game, it was more interesting to see what your plan was than to wait to bleed to death. Flexing his arms to test the net's resistance, he found them folded against his front but otherwise unharmed, and while he was incapable of reaching the harpoon he had no doubt he could untangle himself if even one limb was freed. "Possibly." he conceded, remaining limp so that you could work.

"Worth a try, then." you said with a bit of inflated confidence, still unable to believe what you had gotten yourself into. Biting your lip and committing to your desire to help, you grabbed a random section of net and began to cut. Straight away you found progress to be definite but slow, the sharp blade taking its sweet time to carve through the reinforced material even as you pushed the sharpened edge down with all of your strength. "Ugh, this might take a second, these are some seriously thick ropes."

"Take all the time you need, I'm certainly not going anywhere." he replied with a sarcastic flop of his fluke against the stones, emphasizing his lack of options. You'd have possibly found it funny were you not carving through the stubborn netting with all of your strength, jaw set tight and brows furrowed in deep concentration as you looked for possible shortcuts. It wasn't like you had all the time in the world to cut him loose. The sun would soon be peeking over the horizon, and when it did you had no doubt that other humans would be coming to the beach, some of whom you couldn't trust not to sound the alarm. Many members of your species looked on his with open fear and boundless hostility.

"Hold on, if I'm able to tear this one... ouch!" you hissed as the knife nicked your palm, compelling on you to suck at the little cut before getting back to work. Your lack of hesitation to push on surprised him even more than your initial offer of aid, and for the first time he dared to believe you might be genuine in your desire to help. He could already feel his arm gaining wiggle room with every sliced rope, the heavy weight around his limbs needing only a little bit more of a reduction before he was confident his strength would prove sufficient to break free. Sweat had begun to bead on your forehead when you gave a growl of frustration and sliced through two more holes to free his arm. "Just one second, I've almost got it... there! Can you help me work your arm out?"

"Yes, one moment." he said, barely hiding the anticipation he couldn't suppress. Still mostly immobilized, he tried to work his arm free with a shift of his shoulders, only to receive a lightning bolt of pain as the harpoon was jostled by the movement. Roaring in agony, he went limp save for a full body shudder of pain, fresh energon flowing down his side. 

You jumped to help but pulled back when he hissed in instinctive fear, vents coming in hard and fast before the initial burst of pain began to fade and he calmed down. Looking around for potential witnesses with growing concern for the lack of time, you finally settled on the only thing you had resembling a plan, ignoring every bit of common sense you had saying it was a bad idea. "Would it help if that thing came out first?"

"It... it might. But I cannot reach it." he said weakly, once more feeling the urge to lie limp and allow fate to claim him. You'd proven an interesting diversion from his demise, but it was physically impossible for him to free himself. Between the restraint and the agony he felt when trying to move, there was nothing his great strength could do for him, and the steady flow of energon from his wound was taking even that away. Self repair couldn't initiate with the offending projectile still lodged under his armor.

"How deep is it? If it doesn't need too much of a pull, I can probably take it out." you offered, self preservation briefly taking a backseat to concern. It wasn't fair for anyone to suffer like this, and despite the danger you felt compelled to do whatever a squishy human body could to help. The Thalassicon stiffened at the suggestion, compelling you to drop to your knees and talk face to face to convince him you meant no harm. This wasn't something you could attempt without his full cooperation. "Do you trust me to do that?"

Megatron was silent as he eyed you up and down, looking for signs of the betrayal he'd been certain was coming but finding only earnest desperation in your face. It would be foolish to take you up on your offer considering his history with your kind, but with the harpoon scraping his insides during every ventilation, he was compelled once more to accept out of a lack of alternate options. All you could really do was help him, or end him that much quicker. 

"I cannot leave while it's there, I suppose I have little choice." he muttered bitterly, distrust coloring every word to make it apparent this wasn't a choice he enjoyed. It wasn't an enthusiastic assent, but you took it regardless, stepping back to try and figure out how to best approach the problem when the mech spoke up with far more force. A piercing look from his bright red optics made you flinch with each harsh syllable. "Just be quick about it, and know I will take you with me if you get any ideas."

"Okay. Fair enough. I'll climb on up, just hang tight." you conceded quickly, hands up in a brief gesture of surrender to show you understood. One thrash of his massive tail could easily turn you to paste, so you were equally serious in your promise not to try anything unexpected. Fully aware of his optics watching your every move, you climbed up his shoulder by using the net as a makeshift climbing aid and his armor as handholds, following the trail of bleeding energon until you arrived at his back.

When you stood up to face the harpoon for inspection, you were shocked to find it jutting out as far as you were tall, the heavy metal gleaming even in the darkness as if it was smelted from something unnatural. Ignoring the chill the weapon created in your gut, you angled your phone light to try and get a better idea of how to proceed. The sight of the ragged wound torn into his armor made you flinch in sympathy, and even without medical experience you could tell it had been yanked about as the mech had struggled against his attempted captors. The painful site left you stumped until you realized the roughness of the wound would actually work in your favor. Struggling hadn't just moved the harpoon, it had pulled it most of the way out, far enough that you were confident in your ability to pull it the rest of the way.

"I'll try to remove it as fast as I can, I'm sorry if this hurts." you said as you grabbed the frigid piece of metal, hoping you sounded confident just for his sake. All of him stiffened beneath you, but he made no further movements, remaining silent as you secured your grip and set your feet. 

"Okay. Here I go!" you announced as you sucked in a breath, clenching your shoulders before you pulled with all of your might. At first you felt nothing but his tremble of pain, which compelled you to square your jaw and lean backwards so your weight could assist, every ounce of your willpower pouring itself into the task at hand. After a few unproductive moments the harpoon slid an inch upwards, compelling you to double down until your knuckles paled and veins throbbed along your skin. The Thalassicon hissed when you felt something under the surface give way, and the weapon popped free of the wound in a single motion that sent you toppling backwards just as the mech arched his frame and roared in pain.

Soft sand met your back as you were thrown clear, the harpoon clattering over the stones as you sat up in a daze to find the mech tearing from the net and standing upright on his tail as he shredded the restraints with a growl and tossed the remains aside. The sudden show of motion was reassuring, but the sight of fresh energon running down his side made you fear you'd only made the situation much worse. "It's bleeding, did I make it worse?!"

Your words seemed to surprise him, almost as if he'd forgotten you were there in the rush, but he turned and gingerly probed the wound with much more freedom of movement than he'd had before. "No... It will clear itself and then my self repair will begin..." he explained, relaxing his mighty shoulders as the fact he'd be okay settled over you both. Now able to see the full extent of his size and strength, you felt even smaller as he dropped back down onto his front to speak to you, expression softening in relief and gratitude as he met your gaze. "Thank you. I would not have survived if that remained in my hide."

"Don't mention it." you replied breathlessly, surprising him once more as you made no attempt to request a reward for your services. Rather, you looked at him with concern, your eyes lingering on his injuries as you picked yourself up off the sand. "Are you... good to go? The beach will probably start to see its first visitors before long."

"I can see myself off. For your own sake, it is best you pretend we didn't meet." he answered quickly, pushing himself along the rocks until he came to the edge. For all of his desire to know more about the most peculiar human he'd ever met, it was better for both of you if he cleared out quickly. There was no telling what his attempted captors would do to those who aided him, and you didn't seem like the type to leave well enough alone even if your life was on the line. Knowing that didn't stop him from hesitating as he planned the best way to drop into the dark water below.

"Oh... okay." you said, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice. You'd come to the beach with the intention of finding some beautiful sea life, and while you'd succeeded, it was still hard to accept this one wouldn't be coming home with you. Unwilling to let him go straight away, you stalled with another glance at his injuries, hoping that even if you didn't see him again you would know he was safe out there. "Are you sure you're okay? That looks really bad."

"I have endured far worse, it will heal." he promised, already planning to seek out the deep sea supplies he knew would help him heal. Compared to what he'd suffered before at the hands of humans and bots alike, this was nothing now that he had the freedom to move and swim. The news made you smile, and his spark was so softened by your continued compassion he couldn't bear to leave without some show of gratitude. "Before I leave, allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Megatron."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N." you replied eagerly, wishing the first tendrils of the sunrise shining over the ocean would give you just a few more minutes. Unable to think of all you wanted to say, you ignored the hurt in your heart to bid him farewell, putting your wishes into words so they might come true. "I hope I can see you again sometime, under better circumstances."

"Perhaps, if fate allows. It would not be in your best interest, however." he replied much more sagely, swinging his tail over the edge but holding on with his upper arms. In the moments before he descended further, the position allowed the two of you to come face to face once more, and it was his turn to smile fondly as you bid him farewell.

"I don't really mind. Safe travels, Megatron."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Brilliant Minds | Yandere Idia Shroud

Idia couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he watched the frantic news reporter report the hacking of the Intergalactic Federation of Force and Intelligence.

“Behind me is the I.F.F.!’s home base on Feluschia, where the council members are meeting to begin the investigation on who is the culprit. Now I.F.F.I has many that would jump at the opportunity: the Jupiter Faction of Control, the Galaxy’s Safeguard, space pirates–”

It was not the easiest to break past the thousands of firewalls to get into the system but it still could be done in less than a week. But to him it was needed. If it inconvenienced those pencil-pushers in any way shape or form it’d be worth it. Idia remembered being plagued with the mandatory ejecting of adolescents who spent a set amount of time within their rooms. Too many times could Idia think back to the days he was dragged out of his room to meet said requirements. 

“Consider it payback for all the 24 hour events you made me miss!”

Thunk!

Thunk!

“Hold on what–”

Ship’s main power is being diverted to the bridge. 

“What?!”

Lockdown procedures in process and will only be released with authorized code.

“Wait–”

Pepare for boarding by the Intergalactic Federation of Force and Intelligence. 

“Oh come on!”

Nice to meet you Idia Shroud, please do not resist your arrest. We’d like not to use force. 

The blue light from his monitors reflected the rectangular shape of a red lazor slicing through his door. Turning from his spot he jumped when the door slammed to the ground and his space was lit up with various flashlights and the sounds of soldiers routinely fanning about the room.

“Don’t move! Hands in the air!”

“Fine fine just don’t touch those figurines those are worth more than your life.”

The masked soldier that grabbed him was harsh, latching on a frigid metallic cuffs engulfing his hands. The force meant to keep him down, nearly put his hair out keeping his head uncomfortably to the side. Perfectly in view of the head officer he’d seen in press reports.

“Glad to see we can finally make your acquaintance, Shroud. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Nice to meet you too Captain Flamme. Surprised to see the likes of you reinstated so soon.”

The captain with gray hair glared at him removing a handkerchief from the inside of his coat to hold over his mouth. Which barely hid the sneer he was directing at the arrested Idia.

“Muzzle him as well. I’d hate to subject the council to this worm’s snark.”

“Yes Captain!”

Idia groaned behind the metal clasp being roughly forced on his mouth. He’s certain if it ever came off again he’d have marks. 

But knowing the I.F.F.I he doubt they’d even allow that courtesy with what they had planned for them.

_______________________________________________

“I suggest to the council an  execution for punishment. Or the archaic symbol of severing the offenders hands.”

Chatter among the crowd seemed to be in agreement, nods filtering through the crowd. The heads of the council looked convinced as well, hands raised and about to cast their votes with a press of a button. They hesitated when the crowd began to gasp and whisper. 

All their attention was no longer on the cuffed and muzzled hacker or the Captain who’s gaze barely softened at the individual requesting a platform to speak. A council member resembling the Earth-bird: Crow raised his hand to silence the speculating gathering. Letting the platform they stood on glow with recognition, humming as it floated past the prisoner and closer to the Captain. Standing closer to the council and bridging the gap between them and the prisoner they finally spoke. 

“Mechanic (Y/n) (L/n) of the WonderRide Star code: 42395 reporting.”

The praised star salute and the name of the ship they hailed from had the crowd erupting in another round of gasps. This time containing the excited squeals and chattering of avid fans of the ship. The council member called order once again, struggling a bit more this time. 

Idia was no stranger to the tales and rumors surrounding the ‘WonderRide.’ Online forums stated they had a vile and violent streak, up until recently with the beast-savvy human mechanic. Their exploits often involved in galaxy saving adventures that inspired many a game he indulged in. That didn’t mean he was a fan by any means and was even more prepared for whatever creative punishment the star fleet were to come with.

“Speak mechanic.”

“Aye. I implore the council not to execute or cripple the prisoner in anyway,” they paused already expecting the uproar that the crowd would have. Even Captain Flamme seemed to be taken aback tucking his hand into his coat, no doubt to squeeze the handkerchief he seemed so fond of. 

“Explain yourself mechanic.”

“Gladly.” The mechanic turned for the council, letting the platform split breaking into smaller pieces to accommodate the widesteps forward they were making. “Never before have we had anyone break down the barriers of our system so efficiently. I feel as though chopping his head off now would be a waste.”

The council members allowed the crowd to stir with the same increduality they were feeling. 

“Are you suggesting we employ this criminal?”

The mechanic let a cute smile spread across their face.

“I am.”

More shouts from the crowd. The Captain Flamme took control this time.

“Why would we allow this fiend deeper access to us if he’s already shown to be a threat?”

“The only way a human’s immune system adapts to be better is by being introduced to viruses enough to make antibodies.”

“The I.F.F.I isn’t an immune system. Why take the risk of being infected in the first place?”

The mechanic grew stern, holding the Captain’s gaze while gesturing to the evidence in a hover cage. 

“How many people have you seen demonstrate such a wide knowledge of all kinds of technology?” 

They turned to council addressing them specifically,”Wouldn’t you regret not taking advantage of a mind as great as his?”

Murmurs engulfed the crowds once again and the council members conversed during that time, showing a clear divide among them. After a moment a verdict was reached and the button was pressed with their decree.

“Mechanic and Captain, you both will be in charge of the prisoner’s rehabilitation during the recovery mission. Should he step out of line Rollo Flamme we grant you permission to do as you please.”

“Thank you.”

“Mechanic (L/n)?”

“Yes?”

“This prisoner’s life is spared on your recommendation alone, thus it will be at your expense if he does end up causing damage to I.F.F.I. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“Yes!”

Well look at that, turns out Idia didn’t need to hack the security fields before his execution. He figures he’ll still plant a bug for some later sabotage though. 

_______________________________________________

“From now on you will be under our jurisdiction. Thus you are expected to listen to whatever we order.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry too much, you’ll just be providing support with maintaining wiring and if I do need any help doing anything that’d be faster together.---”

“I doubt we’ll  need you for something like that anyway, (Y/n) is perfectly efficient on their own.”

Hearing the Captain and the mechanic speak to him directly just accentuated the differences he perceived at his trial. The Captain was stiff, borderline rude always quirking his lip in disgust and reaching inside his coat pocket. Whereas the mechanic was incredibly too smiley for working with a man with such a stick up the thorax. It’d be easier to get past the second one.

“So happy to work with you Idia! I was a big fan of that double helix power system you had your gaming system work with. It’s just so much more efficient!”

He figured it’d ultimately worked out that the mechanic was a fan. It’d make developing his latest bug much easier. He kept his answers short as the mechanic show him around the station, finally giving him privacy in his bunk that didn’t last long on courtesy of the Captain. 

“(Y/n) might be eager to give you a chance but I do not. One step out of line and I’ll chop that flaming head of yours myself.”

“Gee you almost sound desperate enough to frame me yourself.”

The insinuation only made the Captain hum, pulling the handkerchief out fully to fervently glare at him from behind it. 

“I will not show any mercy if you hurt them.”

He must be talking about the mechanic. Clearly a case of unrequited feelings for the trigger-happy Captain. Now that he thought about it the handkerchief didn’t come out around them. He’d have to be careful with that. 

“Got it, captain.”

“Tch, fix your uniform you look like a reckless bum.”

The Captain turned to leave, perfectly timed with the door sliding open revealing that stupidly smiling mechanic with a case full of tools. 

“Hey Rollo, heading to the brig?”

The handkerchief was tucked away again and the tired-looking Captain was smiling as though he didn’t just threaten him. 

“I am. Just giving some final warnings to our…guest.”

“Crewmember,” the mechanic corrected, giving a pat on the back to the Captain,”I’ll see you on the deck, shortly.” 

With that the door hissed closed making the mechanic shake their head at the closed door. 

“Sorry about him, he’s just a little uptight with new comers. Trust me he’s definitely going to get nicer as he get’s to know you.”

Idia stifled a snarky ‘doubt it’ with a nod, coming closer to look at the tools he’s been given.

“So for your final instruction we’ll just go over these tools and then I’ll let you get to work. I really hope we can get along Idia!”

Yeah he’s sure he will.

____________________________________________

Just as he had expected, life on this ship was torturous. Beside the Captain that looked for any opportunity to slight him, the crew was filled with violent and bossy extroverts that wasted no time pushing him around. It was perfect fuel for the late nights he would spend crafting the perfect virus for the WonderRide’s system and ultimately I.F.F.I. He was slaving these nights to give it a much more powerful kick this time, considering the only access he was given was such minor programming. The only thing that seemed to get in his way, bringing an uncomfortable heat under his too high collar was—

“Hey Idia, what are you doing up so late?”

That stupid mechanic.

He made up some vague excuse about understanding the innerworkings of the ship. At one point he did need to take some time to understand how it worked but that was in the span of hours since he got here. But it seemed to convince them. 

“W-what are you doing up so late?”

The question came out of nervousness; he didn’t care but the less they spoke about himself the better. They sighed, pulling a hover chair over to his own, twirling about like he would while something was loading.

“I have to reinforce our system’s software, it recently has been a bit more fragile with that pirate group upping the ante.”

“Oh…hows it going?”

“It’s alright, it’s just a matter of being careful. One slip up at this point in the game would mean some of the members on the ship in critical care might lose their specified nursebots. But no pressure.”

“Oh…”

He felt his face and hair heat up in guilt embarrassment. He startled when he felt a warm hand rub soothingly at his back.

“Hey don’t feel too bad, you didn’t know. Besides I’m here to fix it so they’ll be okay.”

“I-if you like I could reverse some of the damage I’ve done. Specifically the more heavy hitting viruses.”

“Really? Thanks Idy that’d help me a lot!”

He thought he couldn’t get any warmer but he was wrong. 

“Idy?”

“Oh it’s my new nickname for you! Do you like it? I can pick something else if you like!”

“No! I-it’s okay! I like it.”

Maybe this little bug could wait for another night, afterall it’s only fair he aid his superior. No other reason. 

______________________________________________________

Red alerts in space games couldn’t compare the distress of the real thing. The unnatural shaking of the ship, the blaring lights, the yelling, the screaming. It had the hacker shaking more than he expected. 

“Move it hacker! (Y/n) needs help handling those pirates. I’ll kill you if you let them down!”

Idia felt wrong blowing off his concern as the Captain shoved him into the mechanic’s cockpit. It sounded as frantic as the flashing lights above. When he entered the room full of monitors and buttons, he expected the beaming mechanic to be seriously locking in like the rest of the crew. Straight-faced and typing frantically as they demanded they get started.

“Hiya Idy, glad you could join the party!”

They were chewing on a straw and casually inviting him to take on different lines of quickly evolving codes all meant to shut down all functions in the WonderRide. It was a constant barrage of violent changing code to sift through and negate with each others code. 

“This is bad (Y/n). We won’t be able to make it!”

“We will. It’ll be close but we can do this.”

“W-what if I throw in my ace in the hole?” 

He vaguely flashed a look at their face illuminated by red light, seeing their eyebrow quirk in confusion. 

“I’ve got another bug, if we can send it to their system it might give us the break we need to get on top of it.”

“Idy that’s crazy,” they paused looking around. Idia was prepared for this, for the betrayal that’d spread across their face as they connected the dots. He let his hands work on their own watching their expression as they turned back to him, holding something in their hand.

“I was thinking the same thing!”

Idia once again felt that the room needed more air circulation, with how hot he was under his collar. Both of them coordinating the release of their viruses to send to the attacking software. Naturally the assault worked perfectly, allowing more than an enough time for the both of them to defend against the slowing barrage of malicious code. Sharing a high-five as the red alarm stopped blaring and coms with the Captain rang through, “Hey we’re regulating our flight patterns and getting out of their range. Splendid work.”

The mechanic cheered while Idia silently celebrated. He’d usually mourn the loss of such a cultivated virus but for whatever reason the Mechanic’s praise seemed to fill the space. 

Idia felt like he could get used to this.

____________________________________________________________

“If you want, I’ll sign your release forms from the WonderRide.”

The words coming from the Captain was startling. A month ago he’d jump at the chance to accept but his sight drifted to look at the empty chair of the mechanic. It was a longer day, the night cycle fully in swing and a good chunk of the crew had retired. 

For a change Idia was on the quarter deck, shadowing the mechanic as the Captain continued to monitor the state of the ship. He seemed more focused than usual despite the peaceful cruise. 

“I realize you may not be dedicated to risking your life when it comes to stopping fellow criminals that threaten to take the I.F.F.I down.” Rollo continued not waiting for Idia’s answer, “I can have you sent to another department, one on the ground and more covert.”

“Y-you would do that?”

The Captain sent a scathing look to him, activating minor shields still continuing to monitor the autopilot. 

“It was an option given after your trial. The members of the WonderRide take an oath both under the council and among each other. Where we’ve promised to protect one another with our lives on the pursuit of peace.”

Idia smugly shook his head,”It still surprises me that the rumored creator of the fireseed, suddenly cares for justice and peace.”

The hacker dryly laughed as the Captain refused to look at him. 

“My closed incident aside. I’ve commited to giving my life protecting members on this ship under the influence of one person.”

That caught Idia’s attention.

“(Y/n)?”

Rollo hummed,”I’ve ultimately dedicated all my energy to eradicate the threats that endanger their life…along with the other members of the WonderRide. But I don’t expect someone like you to want to give your life for that.”

Idia opened his mouth to speak, stopping at a gloved hand stopping him.

“Don’t give me whatever drivel you’ve come up with to maintain your innocence. I can tell you enjoy their attention but I advise you leave before you get too attached.”

Grayish, green-blue eyes stared into Idia’s golden eyes. 

Goading him. 

Testing him.

“Otherwise you’ll surely end up dying, protecting them.”

Idia wanted to say something but a blaring bleeping on his screen stopped him. Sitting up properly to blow the graphic up on the large screen.

“There’s a ship directed towards us. It’s moving way too fast to be a cruiser….I think?”

Rollo took control turning off autopilot with a push of a button.

“You’re right. I suspected they’d come for us like this.” 

He flicked on a button that flashed an orange warning along the halls and walls—instructing everyone to strap in and secure themselves. Idia hurriedly was going to do the same until Rollo yelled.

“Not you. I’m going to engage in some evasive maneveurs but I need you to secure (Y/n).”

“What? But can’t they see the warning.”

“They should but I know (Y/n). They’ll have their nose stuck in whatever their doing, far too distracted to actually secure themself.”

For whatever reason that comment was painful.

“But I don’t know wh–”

Rollo clicked his tongue, as he tapped the floating keyboard. Letting it shift and fold to resemble a pilot’s handles and buttons. Putting his hand on the handle and lightly moving it, Idia could feel the ship sway in sync.

“You’ll have to decide if you want to quit later but for now you need to secure them. Now!”

After managing to get a decent foothold the hacker ran off, mind racing as he tried to recall what they ran off to do. Vaguely remembering that they mentioned wires he took off to the wire room only to find it empty. 

“Where else could they have gone when they said–”

Immediately he took off further down the hall closer to the kitchen. Recalling how they occasionally brought the topic of snacks back up and then checking the digital storage copies. He ran occasionally bumping into the walls as the jerking of the ship got more intense.

He yelled when he arrived at the closed door to engineering room. Banging his fists on the door in frustration before finally looking at the keypad. Realizing this room took a specific code, Idia pulled out a master keycard. One he’d replicated and kept for himself.

Finally hearing the hissing of the door it opened to the dark engineering room filled with electric storage bins that displayed a secured locked signal. Everything seemed in place except for the mechanic on the floor motionless. 

“(Y/n)!”

Sliding to the ground he worked to sit them up, leaning the mechanic on his chest while he brought his face close feeling the light push of air against his cheek. He immediately backed away reeling with relief and bashfullness. He adjusted them to lean on him between his legs, trapping them against on of the organizational beams in the room. Holding tight to the bar and to (Y/n) themself he thought about what Rollo had said. 

He had the option to return to the life he knew. 

Stars, if he wanted to he could even recraft the bug that nearly brought the entire federation down. Return to the virtual space he ruled over, constantly aiming for the top spot in the galaxies. 

Or he could stay here…with you. His smiling mechanic, that shared in his love for technology. That spoke to him like he didn’t dismantle years of your hard work in a week. That was still cracking jokes while their ship was under siege. Staring down at your sleeping face he clutched the mechanic even tighter, letting his head rest against your own. 

Was it crazy that he sympathized with Rollo now? Outright threatening any newcomers on the ship. Hoping to squash the pirate regime not because they’re a threat to the federation but because they’ve caused you pain. 

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Unlike Rollo–who was better suited for a leading role–Idia was immediately placed in your department. Demanded special attention by the council because everyone was so cautious about him. Being his solemotivator and friend was more mandatory then he could have hoped. It’s a given what his answer would be.

“The real crime would be to give you up.”