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esouliie · 3 months

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– TEARS ON THE GRAND PIANO

– pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader (MINI SERIES)

– synopsis: moving on from the only person you’ve ever loved is proving to be hard… so hard that hiring an escort seems to be the only way forward.

– warnings: poor dialogue lmao but my excuse is that it was written a while ago, offensive language, word count: 3K

– Prologue | Chapter 1

13TH NOVEMBER 2022

You were pretty sure your face was melting off with the way your cheeks burned against your hands. Your jaw ached tremendously from clenching, each muscle protesting against the pressure of the emotions welling up inside you.

The room felt like a pressure cooker, and the silence was the ever-tightening lid that threatened to explode at any moment.

The weight of awaiting unspoken words hung in the air, creating a palpable discomfort that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. Seconds stretched into minutes, each passing moment intensifying the unease.

Your mind raced, replaying the events that led to this standoff… of sorts.

Joining the Avengers four years ago wasn't anything you would’ve expected for yourself. Raised as a normal teenage girl in a quiet suburban household, with a normal life planned ahead of you, you never imagined that your destiny would lead you to the extraordinary world of superheroes.

Tony Stark, the genius behind the Iron Man suit, approached you with an offer that would change your life forever. He explained that the world needed new heroes, and your unique abilities were the missing piece they had been searching for. After some hesitation and contemplation, you decided to accept the invitation to join the team.

And here you are - now a grown woman - sitting across from the same Tony Stark. His jaw was slack, eyes wide to an almost inhuman degree. For a man who had faced gods, aliens, and powerful foes, the revelation seemed to have caught even the Iron Man off guard.

To put it shortly, he was stunned. Such an uncharacteristic reaction from the philanthropist.

“What did you just say?” He finally managed to answer.

This was supposed to be easy; simple enough to not stress you even more, but you should've known that nothing comes easy with this man.

“I think you heard me, Tony.”

“Yeah, but I never thought I’d hear that… come out of your mouth.” He slaps his hand against the chair excitedly. He was both amused and bewildered by the unexpected turn of events.

“I mean, everyone thought you were a virgin, with the lack of relationships over the years, but I guess not, huh?”

His laughter irritated you no doubt.

Despite being twenty-three years old, your teammates, in their misguided assumptions, were certain you were a virgin. It was a label that stuck, fuelled by your shyness about your personal life. No one ever dared to inquire about your relationship status, but subtle concerns were shared between them, creating an unspoken curiosity.

In reality, your heart harboured a secret love for someone you couldn't have – a person who existed in the realms of impossibility. It was a love that had silently grown over the years, nurtured in the shadows of silent words and unfulfilled desires.

“So, you want me to set you up with an escort?” He asks, humour still evident in his voice.

You nod, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation washing over you. Your eyes briefly met his before retreating to your fidgeting hands, the room still echoing with his laughter.

“That’s fine. But first, I need you to answer some questions.” Tony continues, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

Confusion creeps across your face as you tilt your head, thrown off course by his unexpected shift in seriousness.

“First of all, why?” He inquires, leaning back in his chair and studying your reaction.

You hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much you should reveal. "It's complicated. There was someone… but the feelings weren’t mutual, and it’s time to move on. I thought this might be a way to help me do that."

Tony raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Feelings, huh? Well, I'm all ears. Spill the beans. Who's the lucky guy?"

You sigh again, knowing that this part might complicate things. “It’s not something … I just don’t think-,” You don’t want to tell him, it feels all too frightening, “I can’t say.”

He hums lowly, observing your obviously nervous state.

“Okay. What’s your preference?”

Your confusion grows.

He sighs, “Male or female?”

He asks so simply whereas you’re caught off guard.

Your ears burn in embarrassment as the implication dawns on you. You knew this would have to be spoken about at some point, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

“Uh, I t-think, female.”

Tony can't help but wear a sly grin. “So not a virgin and not into dudes. No wonder you shot Sam down.”

The mention of Sam makes you cringe, recalling your first encounter with the man who couldn’t take a hint that you were definitely not interested.

You attempt to regain your composure before warning Tony to be serious, but he interrupts your process, seemingly already moved on from your revelation.

“Anyways, what else?”

Again, you’re stumbling over how to answer but he saves you this time, deciding to lighten up on the teasing.

“I’m talking physically. What would you want her to look like? Tall, short, blonde, brunette, redhead?” His hands move drastically as if sculpting an imaginary figure in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was serious. "Does it matter?"

“Well, yeah, escorts are usually pricey, especially the ones I use to hire so… you might as well fuck someone you’re actually attracted to.”

He was right. It would cost a fortune for a high-end escort. Given your public image and the constant scrutiny you faced, you realise that anyone you brought into your private space would need to be discreet and accustomed to the world of celebrities. There would be NDAs to sign, and security measures to consider, and the whole process seemed more complex than you had initially thought.

“Assuming you want an escort for that?”

His words interrupt your thinking. He had a knack for understanding things without needing them explicitly stated. It was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that he guessed your intention to hire an escort without you saying it out loud was both impressive and mildly embarrassing.

Your blush deepens.

“I’d prefer her to be taller than me, brunette, green eyes.”

His grin slips slightly, realisation sinking in. Your preference seemed to match the appearance of a certain witch.

“Simple enough.”

“And also, old- actually, she can be my age, but I’d prefer an older woman.” You add, unknowingly unravelling another layer of mystery to your request.

Tony hums.

“Preferably not American, maybe like European, or…”

It couldn’t get any better for the man. The quick panic in your eyes, let alone the twitch in your lip, helped finalise his theory.

But ever the optimistic, there’s no way he’d caught that slip.

There are a lot of tall, brunette Europeans in America.

Surely.

He rests his head in his hand, feigning false nonchalance, “Sounds familiar.”

Oh.

Wanda Maximoff arrived in America with a heavy heart and a troubled past. The scars of Sokovia and the loss of her brother, Pietro, weighed on her soul, but she was determined to forge a new life. She was haunted by the memories of experimentation and the pain that had been inflicted upon her throughout her life. The scars, both physical and emotional, served as a constant reminder of the darkness she had endured. Yet, as she stepped onto American soil, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Hope for a new life.

Almost every day, she participated in training sessions to harness and control her formidable powers. Vision, an android and fellow Avenger, became her mentor and confidant. Together, they worked tirelessly to channel her abilities, turning the chaos into controlled strength.

Her dark eyeliner that used to coat her waterline thinned with each passing day. Her green eyes, now a striking contrast against her porcelain skin, began to reflect not only her pain but also the resilience that lay within. Her long, brunette locks remained a constant, gracefully cascading down her back.

The Sokovian Accords had torn her away from your life, but Steve Rogers, the man with an unyielding sense of justice, had set her free. She had been detained, left to rot in chains and a power-disabling device. But now, she lived in the shadows, on the run from those who sought to control her immense power.

The next time you saw her was on the battlefield in Wakanda. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the Wakandan landscape, and you found yourself standing amidst the chaos of the battlefield. The air was charged with tension, tangible electricity that mirrored the clash between the forces before you. Amid the chaos, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, moving with purpose and grace.

Wanda. The woman you once knew as a fiery teenager, full of anger and confusion, had transformed into someone entirely new. Her crimson hair, cut to a length that framed her face, caught the fading sunlight as she weaved through the battlefield.

The old Wanda you knew was gone and yet she was still as beautiful. Still the same Wanda you were in love with.

Even so, she was your best friend.

The age difference never seemed to matter; you clicked in a way that transcended space and time. To you, her friendship was everything. And yet, as life unfolded, so did the unexpected twist of emotions that left you utterly devoted to her.

But your love was unrequited. She fell for Vision. The robot born from the mind stone, the same stone that granted Wanda her powers. They clicked instantly.

Unrequited love can be a heavy burden, and you carried it silently, painfully. From a distance, you observed the deep connection between Wanda and Vision strum stronger. Your heart ached, knowing that you never stood a chance against the android who had become the love of her life.

Her space and time.

And then came Westview. It hit you like a tidal wave of sorrow. Wanda, now known as The Scarlet Witch, had created an alternate reality in an attempt to find solace, to build a life where she could have everything she ever wanted. It was a bittersweet revelation - she had her family, but it was a fragile illusion. Life had decided to take everything good from this woman and that included her husband and twin boys.

Learning about their fates left you shattered. It had been a while since you cried over Wanda. You felt so much for the witch. To you, she deserved the universe but for all the time you knew her, she had only experienced pain.

It was a heartbreaking paradox - the one who could rewrite reality couldn't escape her own suffering.

Tony moves closer to you, breaking you out of your trance.

“You could always look for her.” His hand hovers over yours, unsure.

“No, I couldn’t,” You whisper gently, afraid your voice will betray you, “I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t say anything as he moves back to his original position, battling with himself whether to accept your defeat or encourage you to fight for love.

“Okay. I'll look into it.” He answers shortly.

“Thank you, Tony.”

You really do appreciate his help. He has always been there for you, a fun yet steady presence in your life. He had guided you through tough times in your career and offered a shoulder to cry on when needed. In many ways, he was more than just a friend – he was like an older brother.

“It won’t take long for me to find your woman. So make sure you’re ready for the best night of your life.” He concludes by flicking his tongue grossly between his pointer and middle finger.

But he’ll always be a pig.

15TH DECEMBER 2022

A few weeks later, you found yourself in the penthouse suite of one of Tony’s infamous drunk hotel purchases- The Ritz. He had managed to find an escort that fit your preferences within the same night, but due to conflicting schedules and multiple anxiety attacks, you pushed the date back as much as you could.

Tony helped you understand all the unspoken rules of high-end escort services. For high-risk clients, such as yourself, it’s imperative that a fake name is given.

Monica Dunn.

Tony said you didn’t look like a Monica but you didn’t care. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t an escort’s job to care what name their clients use.

Afterwards, NDAs are usually signed, despite the use of a false identity, just in case the escort discovered who the clients were, and sold the information to the press.

This has happened before. You giggle, remembering the scandalous article about Tony and his rendezvous with an escort that gladly divulged a particular fetish of his.

Five minutes before the agreed meeting time, the front desk rings, informing you that your guest had checked in and was on her way up.

You pace around the front door, nursing on the almost empty glass of wine. Soft music playing through the TV just outside the large conversation pit, a sunken enclave surrounded by plush, velvety sofas and cushions in hues of deep royal blue and silver. The pit was nestled in the centre of the room, creating a cosy and intimate atmosphere.

Perfect for tonight.

The suite’s architecture was utterly beautiful. The walls were adorned with gilded frames housing masterpieces of renowned artists, and the floors were covered in an expanse of soft, ivory carpet that allowed you to sink your feet into its embrace. A grand chandelier, dripping with crystal prisms, hung majestically above the conversation pit, casting a warm and gentle glow over the entire space.

Residing in front of the large glass windows, a grand piano stood proudly, its polished surface reflecting the glimmering chandelier above. Your eyes were drawn to it, a majestic instrument that seemed to beckon you with its silent invitation. Unable to resist its allure, you gracefully make your way towards it. The rich scent of aged wood and varnish envelopes you. Fingers delicately glide over the smooth keys, feeling the cool touch beneath.

You sit upon the plush bench, posture adjusting with the grace of a seasoned pianist. You begin to play, letting your fingers dance effortlessly across the keys. The room fills with an enchanting melody, each note resonating through the space. Lost in the music, you start to hum along, your voice blending seamlessly with the piano's tune.

The same tune you wrote for Wanda all those years ago. It's been a while since you’ve played this song. You’re not even sure why you’re playing it now.

The keys dip. A sombre note rings true. The music swirls into a reflection of your emotions, a silent expression of the feelings you had kept hidden for so long and how they remained unbound.

“That’s beautiful.” A voice broke through the harmony, pulling you out of your musical reverie.

Startled, you turn to find her standing there, in all her glory.

And time ceases to exist.

She stands tall. The red hair that once defined her is now a rich, deep brown, still its usual thickness and tied into a high ponytail that exudes a casual confidence. Bangs frame her sculpted face as a gloss stains her lips. She looks different. You can't help but marvel at the maturity that now graces her features. There's a certain grace to the lines that weren't there before, a subtle testimony to the experiences that have shaped her.

The room becomes a backdrop to the flood of memories rushing through your mind. The air is thick with festering emotions as you look up at her, trying to process the unexpected reunion. It's been years since you last saw her, and the wounds of her departure still linger.

You don’t say anything but she does. She steps closer, eyes flickering over your stilled hands on the instrument.

She laughs, and familiarity strikes as she recalls the tune you were playing. "Is that the song you were writing that night?"

The question hangs in the air, summoning memories of the last time you shared your dreams and melodies, the things that mean most to you. She was your muse and you had bared your soul to her in your music. And now you’re trapped between the resonating notes of the piano and the echoes of your past.

For a moment, you struggle to maintain composure. Indifference projected as a firm shield, a sort of defence against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"It's just a tune." You reply nonchalantly, trying to downplay the significance of the moment.

With that, her gaze intensifies, a shadow of uncertainty rushes across her features.

You can't help but feel a sense of curiosity mixed with a tinge of unease.

All this time that has passed and now she decides to come find you.

You don’t understand why she’s here.

She goes to speak but you interrupt her. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

She’s lost for words, not even fully sure herself.

“I came to see you.”

Wanda sees the strain on your face. She didn’t have to read your mind to know you were in turmoil. Without much thought, she gently cradles your face in her hands, thumbs tracing delicately over your lips, and you lean into the touch, momentarily forgetting everything that’s occurred over the last few years.

This doesn’t last long. The warmth of her touch turns cold, and you stand up abruptly, the piano bench skirting backwards loudly. Anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Don’t touch me.”

You don’t expect it to hurt as you see the pain your words cause her.

“Seriously, Wanda. Why are you here?” You continue, voice thick with led.

Wanda sighs, unwilling to lie to you anymore. “Tony sent me.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #cr:@florietas

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klausysworld · 4 months

Note

Cg klaus x little babyspace reader where she is like 1 and pretty non verbal and Klaus is Busy so he get a babysitter bc his siblings are busy too but she get abused by the sitter and is now scared of something she loved like her crib and after that elijah babysit her and when he wants to put her in her crib she start crying and sobbing out something like "n-n-n-no-no 'Ib" and holds for her dear life on him. After he put her in klaus bed and Klaus was back again he told him about it.

How would he and his siblings react to it 💖

(Abuse mention, please don’t read if you may find this triggering and know you are not alone)

Too Perfect To Be Sorry

Y/n had never been able to keep her she regression a secret. She couldn’t help when she slipped into it and she never knew how young she could get. More often than not she was unable to do anything for herself, sometimes barely able to sit up or lift her bed so there was no chance of pretending it didn’t happen. If she felt safe, she’d slip. If she was scared, she’d slip. If she was upset, she’d slip. Almost every emotion was a trigger.

Thankfully for her, the Mikaelsons had been around for centuries and had first hand discovered most things, age regression being something they already knew of and had been apart of within a relationship.

Klaus in particular took interest in the dynamic. He enjoyed having full control over someone, and their willingness for it was what made it so much better. Knowing that someone felt so safe in his hold that they would let him care for them completely. It was a level of trust that he hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

The hybrid had been with multiple littles over time, but often found that he moved around too much to actually keep them happy so began to pull away and succumb to your standard one-night stands instead.

However when he got to New Orleans, the place he had always loved most, he found that he wanted to stay again. Additionally, his siblings were all with him and he was in a joint rulership with Marcel, his son-like figure and favourite of hundreds and thousands of vampires he’d turned.

So when he came across a girl who was very clearly slipping into her little mindset, he was keen to sweep her away from any eyes and take her somewhere safe. Well…his home so somewhat safe depending on the day.

Y/n was barely conscious for the encounter and came out of her little space hours later.

She woke up from her nap to find that she was curled up on a man’s chest, in a bed she did not know, in clothes that weren’t hers but with a Disney film on that she definitely did know.

She looked around slowly, frightened as she carefully peeled herself off of the man. His eyes were closed and chest moving with ear deep breath so she knew he was asleep. She crawled to the edge of the bed and dropped down only to land on a pile of pillows making her smile and pull herself up onto her feet which were covered by the footsie pyjamas she was in. She could feel the confusion creep through her as she felt the babygrow, it was soft like a teddy and covered every inch of her body except her hands and face.

A gentle stirr sounded from Klaus making her startle and scurry toward the door, her steps making near to no sound against the soft carpet. Despite her lack of noise, as soon as she opened the door, arms were lifting her up. Without hesitation Y/n let out an ear piercing scream and her legs began to swing, her hands shoving at his forearms desperately.

Klaus’s eyes went wide and he quickly got her back to his bed, putting her down and reaching for the pacifier he had gotten. “Easy love, come here” he beckoned, holding out the object like one would hold a treat to tempt a dog. But Y/n wasn’t an animal and didn’t take his bait but instead scrambled with all her energy to get away from the stranger, resulting in a very serious game of hide and seek tag.

Klaus didn’t want to use his vampire abilities and terrify the girl and so chased after her at a more acceptable pace. Eventually she ran tied and he caught her in his hold but instead of harming her like she feared, his fingers attacked her with tickles. Her body lurched and curled as she giggled and squirmed against his hands.

Finally, when she began to scream that she would pee herself if he didn’t stoppit, he gave in and put an end to his torture. Once she calmed down and rest her head against the ground, she glanced up at him. Klaus was already looking back at her, ready for her to try and escape him again but she didn’t.

Instead she just stared and curled up though her body was much less tense now and she didn’t seem so stressed nor afraid. He smiled gently and rubbed her arm soothingly.

He stayed on the floor with her for a while, just petting her while she took him in. Only when the sound of a door slamming did he pick her back up but she didn’t bother struggling. He brought her back to bed and sat her down. “Stay here for me little one, I won’t be a minute” he whispered with a kiss to her temple.

Y/n watched as he left and was left with her thoughts once again.

Confusion was the most obvious feeling inside her but she couldn’t deny the comfort she felt when his hands stroked her soothingly and his scent filled her nose. And so she waited for him to come back.

When he did he was a little grumpy so when he sat back down with a sigh, she hesitantly crawled back over to him. He smiled at the gesture and pulled her into his lap, his arm wrapping around her body and his chin resting on top her head.

“Such a sweet girl, even when you’re not in little space” he murmured and she smiled shyly.

“I’m sorry” she whispered but he shook his head

“You’re too perfect to be sorry” he stated and she giggled. “I’m very serious little one, you mustn’t ever apologise for being so lovely. You’re a pretty little baby, you know that?” He muttered, encouraging a nod out of her. “That’s right my love” he smiled.

Y/n let herself relax against him and she took comfort in his hold.

And from that day, she spent more and more time at his house. Whether it was because she kept coming back or because Klaus never wanted her to leave was unclear.

Either way it was why Klaus ended up needing a baby sitter sometimes.

After finding that she was little almost always, which of course he adored, however when something overly important was happening that involved both himself and his siblings, he couldn’t risk leaving her completely alone in the abattoir.

To begin with the woman who came to look after her seemed nice. She was polite to the Mikaelsons and smiley. Apparently she only did that for the money.

As soon as they were all out, she was taking the piss. She’d raid their cupboards and snoop around. Y/n was left to care for herself while the ‘sitter’ did just that. She lounged around and made a mess only blame it on Y/n when Klaus came home. Klaus would just sigh and pick his girl up, her features would show distress so he would tell her he didn’t mind the mess and kiss her better. The sitter took advantage of this.

She could do whatever she wanted and just blame Y/n. Klaus wouldn’t ever hurt the little girl so it didn’t matter and Y/n wouldn’t dare tell the truth, not after she was threatened.

“You think he’s going to believe a freak like you?” She spat, giving Y/n a dirty look “you fucking dare tell him a thing and I’ll make sure that entire family hates you”

“They wouldn’t-“

“Not even if you were violent? Say you bit me? Or what if you weren’t pretty hm? What if I shred your hair and burn your face? You think that Klaus will want to look at that?” She laughed and Y/n’s eyes welled with tears.

The baby sitter would tell Y/n every time that she didn’t deserve someone like Klaus, that men like him didn’t really want girls like her and that the real reason he hired a sitter was so that he could go fuck real women and get away from her clingy self.

It made Y/n pull away from Klaus. She would hide in her crib that he deigned and pretend she was too little to sleep in bed with him. Often she would actually slip into her little space when she was in her crib, she would snuggle her teddies and eventually drift off.

But she wasn’t ever relaxed enough to go as young as she truly needed to be. Not when she was anxious that Klaus didn’t like when she behaved like that: “incompetent and pathetic” the sitter described it so Y/n tried to not go any younger than a toddler as of late. And when the sitter was actually there was even worse. She tried so hard to stay in big space but sometimes the stress and discomfort caused from the woman would cause Y/n to accidentally fall into her little mind.

That was when everything got worse.

The babysitter would treat her like an animal, installing more fear which only made her cling onto her little side to try and block out what was happening. But again this made things worsen. It was a viscous cycle.

The sitter had dragged Y/n by the wrist, ankle, hair or whatever else to get her out the way.

On the occasions the mikaelsons had the sitter stay over night, she would throw a party and force Y/n into her crib and put something big and heavy over the top so she couldn’t get out. Like a caged animal.

Y/n would scream and cry for hours, the sitters friends would laugh and poke fun at her until eventually she passed out from exhaustion.

But again she wouldn’t tell Klaus, she didn’t know how and she didn’t want to bother him. She knew of the sorts of things he dealt with and she didn’t think this would compare to life and death situations.

However that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try and ask for someone else to watch her if they could. Which was why Elijah was looking after her today.

He was more than happy to watch her, especially when Klaus spoke to him and was concerned with her recent behaviour.

“She’s been acting odd, she won’t sleep in her crib but she doesn’t want to touch me, she won’t drink from her bottle but can’t hold her glass stable enough. She won’t snuggle her teddies but won’t let go of a pillow instead and she won’t…she won’t call me Daddy. In fact she tries not to address me at all.” He whispered to his brother, his expression showing clear upset and confusion.

“I’ll look after her Niklaus, perhaps I can see if she’ll say anything to me? She might’ve done something bad and think you’ll be upset?” He questioned but Klaus shook his head

“She knows i wouldn’t ever hurt her, punish her maybe but it doesn’t hurt her. Somethings wrong, she won’t talk to me…she might trust you” he muttered, his voice broken at the thought of his girl trusting his brother more than him but he gave in and asked for help.

Elijah nodded and they spoke a small while more before Klaus went off out and Elijah went up to find Y/n.

She was dressed in some of Rebekah’s clothes though it was clear that she wasn’t comfortable in them and she kept her eyes on the floor even when he addressed her.

With a small sigh he came over to where she sat on the bed and squatted down infront of her. “Y/n?” He repeated softly, locking his eyes on hers “are you alright my dear?” He asked and she nodded silently. He gently cupped her hand in his and caressed the back of it “how about you put something a little comfier on today? We aren’t going anywhere this morning, it’s better to be warm and snuggly” he offered, going over to the drawers and pulling out some joggers and a pretty top that read ‘I 🩷 my Daddy’.

Y/n quietly did as she was asked and let him help her get changed, he frowned when he saw her wearing such an uncomfortable bra. She rarely wore a proper bra, it irritated her when she got little and they all knew it from times she would be out in public and would whimper to Klaus about it. It was why he bought her so many soft, wireless ones. But now she was subjecting herself to it when she was in her own home?

Elijah gently moved his hand round to unclip it, Y/n knew Elijah was safe and wouldn’t dare ever look or touch her in any way that she found uncomfortable so she didn’t react much though she couldn’t deny the little moan of relief when the item was removed and her top was slid on.

Shyly she look up at him, seeing him fold the other clothes and put them aside before turning back to her and lifting her up. He pulled her against his chest, ignoring how she tried to get down. He took her downstairs to the kitchen and got out her baby bottle, filling it with chocolate milk and sliding it towards her but she only stared at it.

He frowned and came back over to her. “Y/n, darling, what’s wrong?” He whispered, concern painting his face. “You aren’t yourself little one” he murmured, in response she only glances at him, her eyes showing an element of hurt.

Eventually he managed to get her to suck on the bottle and after many hours, he finally got her to slip fully. Which was how he ended up with her babbling in his arms as he made his way upstairs and to her and Klaus’s bedroom. “Such a good girl” he smiled as he went over to her once adored crib.

Just as he laid her down in it, a switch seemed to flick. Her eyes suddenly went wide and her breaking shattered. A cry left her lips and she clambered back up his body hysterically. Elijah let out a sound of surprise as she clung to him, shaking her head and sobbing. She begged him not to put her there, her poor body shook and she began to cry for her Daddy.

Elijah held her tight, quickly calling Klaus who hurried home but despite Y/n wanting him, she still wouldn’t go to him. Her mind told her she was embarrassing for him.

Klaus grew more distressed as he tried to make her look at him, to have her attention and provide her comfort.

It took far too long for her to get into his lap, still sobbing her apologies repeatedly.

“Baby girl” he whispered, his tone so gentle it broke her heart “you’re too perfect to be sorry” he uttered, a reminder of the first time she was with him. He rocked her soothingly, his hands all over as he tried his very best.

Slowly, her tears came to a stop and she settled against him. He kept her wrapped in his hold for a while before coaxing some words out of her.

With much effort he was able to figure out it was something to do with the baby sitter, he promised that nobody bar himself and his family would ever look after her again.

When she fell asleep in his arms, her face stained from crying and her clothes ruined from how much she had sweat from the panic, he cleaned her up and got her changed back into the same snuggly onesie as the first night she spent with him.

He didn’t put her down but instead carried her around, even when he went to his siblings and told them that he needed them to get the sister over immediately.

When the disgrace of a person arrived, Elijah quickly took Y/n into his hold while Rebekah also sat with them. She stroked Y/n’s hair comfortingly and listened closely to what was happening. Klaus and Kol had the woman by her throat compelling her her for answers on what she’d done to Klaus’s girl. After being forced to admit every horrible thing that she had done to Y/n, Klaus and Kol did their worse. Borderline maimed her.

Klaus then destroyed every last thing that the monster had used to destroy and ruin Y/n’s feelings of security and happiness.

He had to get rid of all her clothes, he refurbished his whole room and got her all new little things in an attempt to make her feel better.

Y/n appreciated the gesture but couldn’t just slip back into her ways. It took a lot of time from all the Mikaelsons. They cared for her as well as they possibly could and did everything possible to help her feel comfortable.

Slowly she felt safe enough to slip.

Klaus was ecstatic the first few times she went all the way. He wouldn’t ever let her go, he’d have her in diapers so that he could take care of everything and have her without an ounce or worry. He’d bounce her, rock her, feed and nurture her.

Klaus frequently reassured her that he loved her being little and that he never wanted to feel uncomfortable again. He just wanted to love her and keep her safe forever.

710 notes · View notes

malleleothreesome · 6 months

Text

Femdom!Reader x Sub!Malleus Draconia

💚 summary: Malleus grovels before you as you sit upon his throne in the Diasomnia dorm lounge ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: afab fem reader, no pronouns (use of you/your) but Malleus does refer to you as his Queen. Malleus has two cocks, consensual bdsm scene, all actions taken agreed upon offscreen prior to starting and are within Malleus' boundaries, collar & leash, you use him as a footrest, use of good/bad boy, you slap him (it doesn't hurt), punishment: you masturbate in front of him, edging (him), orgasm denial (him), face sitting cunnilingus, vagina stretching spell, breeding, creampie, aftercare ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 4.5k words ripped from my tortured soul

Oh, how easy it was to turn the powerful, brooding future King of Briar Valley into a needy, desperately loyal little puppy. Completely dependent on your attention—and your touch. Who could have known he would fall so deeply—and wretchedly—in love with the first girl who didn’t run away? After centuries of Malleus walking alone under the dark void of night, you came and filled the sky with bright, twinkling stars. From the very second he was met with your crinkled, smiling eyes—a far cry from the usual look of dread—he was yours, and yours alone. Without a second thought, you’ve folded him into your sweet embrace, promising eternity. You’ve taken it upon yourself to fill his days with love, companionship, happiness—things he has indeed always deserved, but all of which, until now, were missing entirely.

You were inseparable. When he wasn’t tending to Kingly duties, he could be found close behind you, clinging to your comfort and familiarity. Malleus always admired your confidence, strength, and what seemed to be sheer fearlessness. You packed a lot of spunk in that tiny, mortal body of yours. You were determined to get the other students to accept him—you would have done it by force if you’d had to. (You didn’t have to. You were far too clever for that.)

He was your plus one, always. You introduced him with such adoration, that any preconceived ideas of him were pushed aside without much thought. If someone dared question his presence, you’d make an example of their rude presumptions. All the while, Malleus towered sheepishly behind you, blushing, and elated. You were the only one in his life who truly saw him.

Dominance was Malleus’ birthright. His ability to command inferiority and trepidation from every single person in a room was an unwanted side effect that had been passed down for generations. Dominance is a role he was forced into by his Kingdom—it’s all he’d ever known. But then, there was you. The way you stand up to and for him with no fear or hesitation. The way you simultaneously treat him like he’s Just Some Guy, and also the most precious treasure in the world. Watching you take the lead makes his heart race—and loins ache—faster and deeper than anything before. He was absolutely desperate for you to take advantage.

So there you were, sitting on Malleus’ throne in the Diasomnia lounge, in the depths of the night. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms. The Prince of Thorns was kneeling before you, his alabaster face enveloped in the faint purple and green glow that danced around the throne—the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black room. Your feet—costumed in 6-inch, dagger-like heels that might be lethal to both body and soul—rest heavy on his shoulders. If only Malleus’ ancestors could see their tyrannizing heir being used as a footrest by a common human…

Your lingerie is devoid in the places it matters most—a corset that leaves your breasts propped up and completely exposed, panties with a slit that perfectly frames your exposed, wet cunt. So close, yet so far away. A flick of his forked, serpent-like tongue slips out of his mouth. His eyes get lost in the view. For you, he would reduce himself down to just a tongue—how he yearns to be useful. His twin cocks create a prominent bulge against his tight, leather pants. You keep a short, firm grip on the leash that connects to the patent black collar around his neck.

“What are you looking at?” You ask rhetorically, taking your right foot off his shoulder and placing the toe of your stiletto against his forehead, forcing his gaze to meet yours. You let it linger there, making a point: The feared crown Prince of Briar Valley is beneath you.

His heart stammers and he gulps, lips parted but unable to form an answer. A low moan escapes his throat, eyelids fluttering closed—this is pure ecstacy. Unfiltered submission. Total loss of control. Absolute surrender. It was intoxicating. He had no control of his body, and he could hardly form a coherent thought. His cock muscles begin to flex against his pants, as his desperation to create friction shows face.

But it’s not time for relief or release. You yank his collar, forcing his face toward you. “Bad boy!” you purr, through gritted teeth, slapping him hard across the cheek. “Did I give you permission for pleasure?”

His eyes roll back, hand instinctively rushing to his cheek. Not to tend to the wound—to relish in the feeling of your touch. The slap didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity of the move was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. In his long life, no one had ever dared challenge him in such a way. You loved how your precious Malleus showed his emotions so plainly on his face. A strong wave of arousal flooded your nervous system as you admired his flushed face. His eyes had gone hazy, drool glistened on the corners of his mouth, which had curled into the lewdest smile you’d ever seen. There was no doubt—he was getting off to this.

You yank the leash again, forcing him out of sexual gratification. “What a shame.” You look down at him with so much contempt that he winces. You almost wanted to break the scene and comfort him, but these were the rules. This was what he wanted.

You continue to follow through with your punishment, reminding him of his place and purpose in the bedroom: service and obedience. You take a deep breath and sigh. "I was really looking forward to using that pretty face of yours to make myself cum. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You remove your feet from his body, bracing them on the seat of the throne and spreading your legs in one smooth motion. His pout transitions into a dropped jaw as your free hand crawls down your stomach to spread your labia apart. You hold his eye contact and you see his slitted pupils dilate. You begin to draw slow, sensual circles around your clit.

Every neuron fires off in delicious agony, screaming that he should be the one pleasuring you. His heart aches—he vowed to himself that his Queen shouldn’t have to lift a finger as long as he was around. Malleus was holistically devoted; your pleasure has become his entire purpose.

He dedicated his days to chasing the high of your smiles and his nights to getting drunk off of your moans. He didn’t deserve to revel in your precious light, but you let him in without a second thought. That was just the type of person his beloved human was, and for that, he would serve you until his last breath.

But now he had to sit idly and watch as you enjoyed yourself without him. What a beautiful torture. A fitting punishment. Perfect for stripping away his ego, forcing him out of everything he knew, all while reminding him of his subservient status. As much as it hurt him… he craved moments like these.

Malleus studies your movements carefully, internalizing every detail of how you pleasure yourself. The way you slid your middle finger up through your delicate folds, gathering the slick of your own arousal for lubrication. How you alternate between light flicks on your clit and flat, rapid rubbing with two fingers. The way you allow yourself to become absorbed in your lechery.

You’re sure to drag out Malleus’ punishment, taking time to honor every part of yourself. You explore every surface of your body, through your hair, teasing your hardened nipples on the way back down to your cunt. What a naughty tease. How beautiful it was to watch your vulva swell as you got closer and closer to orgasm. His heart raced, breath running ragged as he became consumed by theories of what you could be thinking of to bring yourself closer to the edge. Were you thinking about him? What dirty fantasy about him would transform your pleasure, forcing you to the point of no return?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t fight it. Your eyes widened, and Malleus watched as you wrapped his leash around your wrist to grip the armrest of his throne, holding on for dear life as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Malleus made a tight fist with his right hand, digging his nails into his palm to prevent himself from cumming too, just from the sight of you. There was no bigger turn-on than seeing you receive the pleasure you deserve. It had been weeks since his Queen had allowed him to cum. His balls were desperate to release—even a nipple poking through your t-shirt was enough to feel like he was edging.

Currently, it was taking every fiber of his being not to slip up. He was ever careful not to take any action that his Queen would consider stepping out of line, lest his orgasm be denied further. But that look on your face… every sound of pleasure from your sweet lips… every involuntary twitch of your legs and each curl of your toes—safely filed away in his mind to replay when his Queen finally gives him permission to cum.

“What a good boy you were. I know that was hard for you.”

You sit back up on the throne, leaning towards Malleus’ face, smiling sweetly as you let your smug, cunning eyes tell a different story. You know you’re driving him mad—and you’re goddamn proud of it. You lean even closer, lifting his chin with your blood-red, manicured fingertips. You can’t help but giggle as you poke and prod, rubbing his pale, soft cheeks with your thumb, dragging your fingernail along his pointed ear. His blush deepens. You lift his upper lip up with one teasing finger, admiring his cute little fangs.

“How adorable you are. My perfect little obedient pet. My perfect lover. I love everything about you.”

You settle back into the chair, cheek resting on your fist, face arranged in a coy little smile.

“You may speak.”

A faint, “T-thank you, m-my Queen” is all he can muster before dropping eye contact and falling silent again, cheeks sizzling. He doesn’t know how to process your earnest adoration.

“Aw, is that the best you can do? I can only hope you have more to say when giving a royal address, or appearing before the faerie courts. Let’s hope the domestication of a future King isn’t grounds for dethronement. By a human, no less.”

You both know Malleus remains ever-so-diligently authoritative when it comes to his duties to his Kingdom—it’s one of the reasons you felt so honored how eager Malleus was to lower himself for both of your pleasure.

“You know, I don’t like punishing you when you’re a bad boy. I want to take care of you, too.” You yank his leash in a final act of correction, watching his upper body stumble forwards once again. “Don’t make me do it again, or I swear on the Seven you will not like what follows. Now lay on your back. I’m not even close to being satisfied.”

Without hesitation, Malleus falls to the floor. Another place you shouldn’t find a powerful crown Prince: laying on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He wears a stupid smile on his face—he knows what’s coming. Rolling your eyes, you get in position; feet framing his eager face, offering a direct bird’s-eye view of your plump, glistening cunt. Slowly lowering yourself into a squat above his face, you purr, “beg for it.”

He can smell the musk of your pussy and his cocks throb painfully against his pants. His heart races, eyes once again hazy with arousal, mouth completely agape. His body twitches—he’s already edging. I guess a month of being denied orgasm will do that.

He looks up at you, eyes watering, lip quivering, hands in tight fists as he fights the urge to touch himself. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth radiating from your cunt, and deeply inhales your scent. A deep, warm exhale swirls around your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm—which sends a surge of electricity through your entire nervous system. You can’t help but shudder.

The corners of his lips curve upward, his ego is beginning to show itself again. You yank his leash upwards, meeting his eyes with a narrowed stare. Malleus knows the drill. He doesn't want his Queen's kindness to turn cold, after all. He gulps, all arrogance vanishing in an instant. You relax your grip.

A pathetic whine accompanies his plea: deep, smooth, and dripping with arousal. "Please," he begins. His eyes are wide and his lip trembles, desperate to satisfy his Queen. "I will worship your beautiful body. I will show you my love, my loyalty, my devotion, with the entirety of my being. My tongue will show you my adoration and gratitude. Please..." he begs and whimpers, more pathetic with each word.

"You're drooling." You wipe his mouth with your thumb, smearing it across his lips and forcing them apart. You stick your thumb into his mouth, on which he sucks hungrily. You can't help but smile—he really is greedy for your love. "Such a filthy, desperate, pitiful, whiny boy."

His eyelids flutter and he moans, loving how your words make him feel. His cocky, confident demeanor completely dissipates as you degrade him. He's a complete mess, completely dependent on your words and your touch. The second your finger is out of his mouth, he begins begging again, more frantically. "Please. Sit on my face. I want to be useful. I want to make you feel good. Please, please, use my mouth, I want to make you cum. I want to be covered in your essence. I want to taste the sweetness of your arousal. I want to drink it up, and breathe you in. I want to be completely engulfed in the warmth of your cunt. Please, my Queen. Use me for your pleasure. Let me worship your pussy.”

"You may."

Those two words felt electric. Malleus' heart raced and his cocks leaked and his eyes rolled back, lost in the euphoria of this moment. His arms reach around to squeeze the sides of your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt to his face before you could change your mind. A demanding action like that normally wouldn’t have been allowed, but you were already losing yourself to pleasure.

He pressed his nose into your pubic bone, licking at every inch of skin he could reach. Malleus wastes no time giving his Queen exactly what she wants. His tongue strokes up and down your pulsing pussy, lapping up your wetness and savoring every taste. His eyelids flutter in carnal ecstasy and his mind floats away, primal instincts taking over. Breathing deeply through his nose, practically drowning in your scent, a moan escapes his lips. He licks faster, swirling his tongue around your clit. He looks up, moaning again as he takes in the view: the plump undersides of your breasts bouncing lightly with every lick, fire-red fingernails squeezing your right nipple, your head thrown back in unmistakable pleasure. His moan pulsates against your soaking wet pussy, intensifying your pleasure to something even more carnal. Your pelvis—suddenly with a mind of its own—thrusts and grinds against his tongue.

He's hungry and messy, but he knows exactly how to please you. You run your fingers through his dark, sweaty bangs, pushing his hair back to expose the gorgeous scales hidden on his forehead. You hold onto his horns like a saddle, taking back some control.

"You're such a good boy, Malleus. Keep going." His long, forked tongue is immediately thrust inside of you, desperate to gather up every bit of slick from your last orgasm. You can feel his thick tongue prod against your sensitive, contracting walls as he eagerly laps up your sweet, musky juices. His tongue could do things a mortal man couldn’t dream of. You grind down harder, pushing his face further into you.

Arching your back, his tongue continues to devour you, licking and sucking with primal desperation. He licks the entire length of your vulva and then sucks his way up your labia, finishing his trail with a wet “pop,” leaving your clit swollen and throbbing. He revisits your labia with his entire mouth, sucking it taut and letting it go. The sensation of the blood rushing back is divine, and your whole body shivers. You’re so close. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your plush thighs, holding on for dear life as his adrenaline pulses through every blood vessel.

Your moans are music to his ears, and he wants more. He sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue, flicking and licking up and down, positioning it safely between the fork of his tongue. It's too much, but you want more. He vibrates his tongue, sending shockwaves up and down your spine. Your leg muscles twitch and your breath catches. He can tell that you're almost there, and his cocks throb harder than ever. He’s desperate to cum when you do.

"Don't cum." You read his mind. "If you obey me, I'll let you cum in my womb."

He moans loudly, and his hips involuntarily jerk upward, trying to find friction in the air. His cocks are dripping, his pants soaked with clear, sticky precum. He feels so hot and needy, it's almost painful. But he loves it. The idea of finally releasing into you—his Queen. His love. His entire universe. If he could cum right now, he'd fill you to the brim, and then some. He'd give you the family you've always wanted. He'd make sure you'd never want for anything else. He'd give you everything in his universe, just like he promised.

Malleus can't help but whimper as you pull his hair, forcing his mouth back against your pussy. "Focus," you remind him. You can feel him nod, and then his tongue is back to work, licking, sucking, and flicking your clit, vibrating his tongue and moaning against your folds, the sound muffled by your flesh.

"You're such a good boy," you praise him. His eyes roll back and he moans even louder, sending vibrations up through your pussy. "Mmm... that's a good boy, Malleus. Such a good boy." He's getting sloppy, moaning and whimpering and bucking his hips uncontrollably. "You're so needy. Just a little more... a little longer. I'm close. Don't stop. Make me cum."

You feel his fingers digging into your flesh, his whole body is trembling. His face is red, and tears stream down his cheeks. His cocks ache—he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

For his finishing move, he pulls your clit between his lips and begins to suck, swirling his tongue around, and then flicking the tip. He vibrates his tongue as hard and as fast as he can, sending shockwave after shockwave straight through you until you’re completely uninhibited. You shudder and convulse, completely lost in orgasmic ecstasy. “MALLEUS,” you scream, cumming so hard that your juices squirt into his mouth and run down his chin. He shoves his tongue deep within your pussy, feeling your walls contract around him, lapping up the sweet, sticky liquid as it releases. He's in Heaven. His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, his chest heaves. He's panting, covered in sweat. His cocks twitch, and his balls ache, but he wouldn't dare let himself go over the edge. His prize awaits.

You crawl away from this face, legs wobbling and mind scrambling to catch up. Looking back at him, you see smudged eyeliner, swollen lips, and a face glistening in your juices. His chest heaves, cocks leaking with desperate arousal. He looks so pitiful, completely lost in the throes of carnal desire. He meets your gaze, his eyes out of focus. Small, desperate whimpers escape his lips. He's desperate for your touch—and you love seeing him this way.

You slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, taking the time to appreciate each reveal of toned muscle. He's so beautiful. Pure. Innocent. Perfect. You run your fingers down his chest, feeling the smooth, firm skin, and the rise and fall of his chest. His nipples are hard, and you can't resist. You tease them with your red, stiletto fingertips, feeling him shudder under your touch. He's so cute when he's aroused.

"M-my Queen..." he mumbles, and you know exactly what he wants. You kiss his chest, he moans. Arching his back, his hips buck forward, and a frustrated groan exits his airway. You kiss his nipples, playfully sucking, then a quick nibble. He cries out, body trembling, cocks twitching with excitement.

"Patience, my love," you coo. "You’ll get your reward."

You trail kisses down his torso as he squirms beneath you. His cocks are painfully hard. By the time you reach the waistband of his pants, his entire being is begging for you to take them off. In the same moment you’ve tugged the zipper down, his cocks spring free, bouncing against his abdomen. They're hard as rocks, covered in precum, and twitching with need. He's whimpering, and you know he can’t hold on much longer.

Slipping his pants down, you free his legs of their final constraint. You look up to find him gazing at you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. He's so beyond ready for release. You climb back up him, straddling his hips, careful not to make contact with either cock—you don't want him to cum just yet. Not before he fills you up, and makes you his.

"I want to take both of them. I don't want to waste a single drop." This is new. Usually it’s one cock inside of you while you jerk the other off or rub it against your clit. Two at once require a bit of fae magic. He nods, shuddering. Reaching up, his fingers brush against your pussy. His gasp is voracious—he felt how soaking wet you are. His hand glows green and he pushes two fingers into your tight little pussy, his magic spreading inside of you. It tingles in the best way. You feel like you're being filled up with warmth and love and ecstacy. Your body buzzes, pussy throbbing. As his magic begins to take effect, he adds two more fingers, your pussy eagerly and willingly stretching to accommodate his entire fist. Euphoria courses through your veins.

“Give yourself to me. Fill me up with every last bit of you. Make me see stars.”

Finally, permission.

In one swift motion, Malleus removes his fist and plunges both pulsing, throbbing, needing cocks inside of your enchanted pussy. Within an instant, Malleus can't hold back any longer. He erupts, and a guttural moan escapes his lungs as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body convulses, hips jerking violently, pumping his hot, sticky, viscous essence deep within your womb. Your eyes roll back, feeling his thick, warm cum paint your insides. The sheer force of his orgasm pushes you over the edge, and you cum for the third time that night, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him for every last drop. The feeling is almost indescribable—both of your aching bodies become one, pleasure and cum filling you to the absolute brim. He pummels you again and again, your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, holding on for dear life.

He's continues to cum—it's been a month, after all. His moans are desperate, his breathing ragged. His hips buck, and his body trembles. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass cheeks, pulling you flush against him. He can't get enough. His head spins thinking about how badly he wants to impregnate you. To breed with you. To have you bear his children. To make you a mommy. He imagines your beautiful, swollen belly; a physical manifestation of the love you share.

After what may have been eons, his orgasm finally subsides. His vision clears, and he's met with a glorious sight: you, above him, blissed out and dripping with cum. His heart swells, his love for you now deeper than ever. You allow him to kiss you, after seeing him yearn for it. You taste his love, his desperation, and his complete submission to you. It's divine.

You collapse, falling on top of his chest. Lay there together, breathing hard, you both come down from the most intense orgasm of your lives. His cocks soften, and slip out of your overflowing cunt. Your body shudders. It feels strange to be empty again.

“Bathe me," you command him.

"Anything for my beloved."

You both stand, legs wobbly. With a flick of his wrist, Malleus uses his magic to clean up, restoring the room to a pristine state. Before you can protest, Malleus scoops you up, and in a flash, you're back in his dorm room. The green teleportation fireflies fade as he carries you to the bath. You relax into his arms. With one, strong hand, he turns the water on, making sure it's just the right temperature, cuddling you until the water fills. Sleepily, you disconnect the leash from his collar, leaving his collar fastened around his neck as a sign of ownership.

Malleus carefully slides the straps of your corset off your shoulders, unlacing the back and letting it fall to the ground. He kisses along your clavicle, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He kneels before you, slowly pulling your panties down. Watching them fall, he can't help but blush, remembering the way he'd seen them just moments before. Your nudity is absolutely mesmerizing.

You step into the soothing water in the tub, and Malleus steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He's so good at caring for you. He washes and scrubs every inch of your skin, finishing with a scalp massage. His movements are soft and intentional—full of love and adoration. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. You let your eyes close, listening to his heart beat, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Thank you for tonight. It was perfect," he coos into your ear.

"I'm so happy you trust me so much with your fantasies." You feel him smile as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. "Do you feel more comfortable in your submission?"

"Every time, it gets easier. I've never felt this safe or this loved. I am forever indebted to you. I love you, now and always."

"I love you too, Malleus. Now and always."

His hands rest on your lower belly. One day, it will swell with change, and you'll bear his heirs. You'll live your life together, and you'll rule his kingdom by his side. He can hardly wait—he’s already vowed to serve and protect you and your future children with every bone in his body. But for now, he takes pride in knowing you choose to be with him. To show him that his submission is not weakness, it’s power. It's a privilege. And more than anything, it's love.

You fall asleep like this, in his arms, dreaming of your future together. He holds you close, cherishing the moment. You're his everything—now, and always.

This was my first ever fic! If you enjoyed it, it would mean the absolute world to me if you told me either in the replies, in my ask box, or in the tags! Please know you have my endless gratitude for reading my fanfic — thank you for supporting my passion. I have been a long time lover of fanfic and I am absolutely honored to finally contribute to the community I care so deeply about! I hope you had a great time! 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

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847 notes · View notes

naffeclipse · 29 days

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Hey, Naff! I was thinking of the AU where y/n is a dolphin mermaid and Sun, Moon and Eclipse run a mafia pod, and then I thought of the alternate scenario someone sent asking what would have happened if y/n had a kid with them, and then I had a thought! XD Not to contribute to the baby fever but!

What if the initial encounter went the same, y/n is chased, caught and forced to accept the deal of working for them, but in this scenario they are already expecting. Like super early pregnancy stage. Y/n does know about it, but it's so early that it's not outwardly visible or noticeable to anyone else.

And since that first encounter was so rough they are hesitant to ever mention it to the trio because they don't know how the mafia works and they are afraid either them or the future baby would be seen as a liability (unable to tell that's not actually the case). So they do the jobs they ask, while trying to hide it to the best of their ability. And thankfully for them (at least they think so), it's one of those pregnancies that doesn't really show until much later, but there comes a point where they can very much not hide it anymore.

But what if that point comes when there is a lull between jobs for them, and the trio of bosses is pretty busy, so they are left alone for a while and they are like "Great! Maybe I can have this baby unnoticed!" But then just as they approach the due date they are finally summoned back, but at this point they know they can't go to them. So when they don't respond to the call it causes for one (or all three) of the boys to get suspicious and come looking for them. And that's all I thought about gkjfhgkfh No idea what happens next XD

Chaotik, I'm rattling you so hard right now! It's a sweet little twist on dolphin Y/N dealing with the mafia sirens + baby, and I'm entirely here for it!

Continuing where you left off, I like to imagine that Sun and Moon are the ones to go look for Y/N.

They can't have one of their own go rogue, especially without consequences. They make no exceptions as they explained what would happen to those who aren't loyal, but Sun and Moon are especially sullen. Dolphin Y/N is all three of the bossess' favorite, and to have them try and think they can get away spears their pride (and hearts) when they've been so good to them. Of course, that's not to say they haven't taunted, teased, and grabbed Y/N mercilessly, as they have full rights to do within their territory and those under their protection, but they thought Y/N was growing closer with them in return. Regardless, they're on the hunt.

On the farthest northern edge of their territory, where it was confirmed that Y/N was summoned back but did not follow through on the command, they come upon a thick Arctic ice pack and towering, roaming glaciers. Sun catches sight of Y/N first. They're hiding behind a sizeable outcropping of ice, flukes flitting anxiously. Moon swims around to catch Y/N from behind should they decide swimming away is a possibility.

Y/N is panicking, doing their best to keep their now very visible pregnancy concealed while also pondering their fate. The due date is close but the ferocious bosses are upon them. How useless will the two orca sirens decide they are while carrying a child?

Sun calls out to Dolphin Y/N to come out before he has to make them, and though Y/N reluctantly answers, they still keep their belly hidden. Moon, however, sees them entirely from his position, baby bump and all. Caught off guard, Moon slips behind Y/N while Sun is still interrogating them, and he takes their arm and firmly but gently pulls them out into open water. Sun stops midsentence to stare at Y/N while they flounder internally, deeply unsettled by their reactions—or the lack thereof.

After Moon and Sun silently stare at Y/N and process the new situation, they share a sharp look. Sun asks where Y/N's mate is. Y/N says in a small but no uncertain voice that they have no mate. They intend to raise their baby alone. Both sirens seem to relax at this. Y/N begins to babble about being able to care for the baby and still perform their work but Sun and Moon have made a silent decision together. Sun softly takes Y/N's other arm to guide them back to the center of their territory, where they belong.

Of course, Sun and Moon now recall certain moments from the past few months, such as Y/N being especially skittish whenever they or Eclipse grabbed onto their hips or caressed their sides. Another siren under their pod commented on Y/Ne eating better for they're a little thicker around the middle, and Y/N quickly brushed aside the remark. Of course, Sun and Moon see now how much softer Y/N's face is and that their movements are slow and careful, not as slipstreamed as they were when the brothers first chased them down. They're a bit bewildered (and abashed) that they missed the signs.

Y/N is still panicking at how closely Sun and Moon guide them back into the heart of their territory before taking them to a sizeable ice cave, carved out by claws. Sun darts away once they pull Y/N inside. Moon asks Y/N more questions about their pregnancy: how are they feeling, do they need to eat, are they tired, do they know when they might have the baby, and so on. Y/N grows increasingly anxious by the grilling but answers truthfully. The due date is soon, very soon. That's why they couldn't answer the summons. Moon dismisses Y/N's stumbling overexplaining with a wave of his head. He's already pieced that bit together.

Then Eclipse arrives with Sun. His burning eyes immediately land on their big belly in plain view, and Moon tending closely to their side, his claws curled around their hand. Y/N finally asks what the bosses are going to do with them. They don't want any harm to come to their baby but Y/N is well aware that they can't fend off three orca sirens. (Eclipse remembers a time he noticed a slight swell to Y/N's belly but attributed that to providing well for their Dolphin Y/N after they've been so loyal and hard working in return.) Eclipse is silent for a long heartbeat before he flashes his teeth and chastises Y/N for not telling them earlier. They could have protected them more, allowed them to rest and stay closer to them, and given them less dangerous work.

Y/N stammers for a moment before falling silent. Did the terrifying eldest boss just say what they think he said? Sun leaves to retrieve a fish before Moon speaks low into Eclipse's ear. Sun returns and gives all his attention to Y/N while he ensures the fish he caught for them won't trigger any nausea. After Y/N says the fish is fine, Sun caresses their cheek once. Then, the twins disappear, leaving Y/N with Eclipse as he watches them eat. He explains that their child falls under the orca sirens' protection because he and his brothers already protect Y/N. They will see that Y/N is given whatever they need to rest and recover. Y/N is struck dumb, but the fish is delicious and they haven't been torn apart yet, so that can only be a good thing. Right?

Eclipse catches Y/N's chin in his hand, lifting their head to hold their gaze as he grins. It will be lovely to have a little one around, he says. Y/N believes he's sincere, still wrapping their head around how they started the day off terrified and somehow finished it with devotion and support from the three orca sirens.

#sleeping with the fishes #pregnancy #orca!eclipse #orca!sun #orca!moon #dolphin!reader #chaotikanvas #y/n is terrified they're gonna be punished for being rendered 'useless' but the boys only see their favorite siren needing strong mates #and they're nothing if not strong #y/n finally can finally take it easy but is still a little anxious about it all #thankfully they'll have help for the birth and so many extra hands to raise the little one #the boys are excited hehe

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imaginedanvrs · 2 months

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a galaxy stands between us

part 2 l masterlist

summary: adjusting from one enclosure to another proves challenging when you're unsure who to trust

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of past confinement, allusions to schizophrenia

“Thor’s basically an alien and he looks like a regular dude,” Tony stated as he tinkered with his newest helmet model, seemingly the most relaxed at what the team might be keeping in their med bay. “Carol Danvers is half alien and looks normal when she’s not glowing,” he continued.

“Neither of those things are true,” Natasha corrected, having talked to the younger captain about her human-kree dna ratio in the past.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s from this planet or not,” Steve said. “What matters is what she’s capable of. What if she has powers like Wanda or a hulk like Bruce that she can’t control?”

“Her name is y/n,” Wanda input. “But you’re right,” she agreed, surprising everyone in the room to hear her say. “What then? Will you send her to S.H.I.E.L.D to lock her up? Will you put another collar on her? You know what happens when people try to control something because they’re afraid of it,” the Sokovian argued adamantly. Natasha couldn’t help but look at her partner with pride as they both stood in your corner. “You can wait for those test results, but I’m going to talk to y/n,” she declared to the room and left no room for anyone to stop her.

“Just let us try,” Natasha added, seeing the discontent on Steve’s face as he watched them both leave and turned his attention back to the records on screen. You had graduated high school five years prior and had been accepted into a university you had never gotten the chance to attend. There were legitimate files of you entering the foster system as a baby and the circumstances of which were unclear but it seemed you’d be abandoned. Natasha had been the one to point out that from Earth or not, you had spent enough time on the planet to at least have the rights of a human.

Meanwhile, you were adjusting to foreign feeling of being more conscious than you could recall being in a significantly long time. The world had a piercingly clear filter placed over it that you had once taken for granted. Still, it was entirely overwhelming when your attention was drawn to every minor aspect of your surroundings that you never would have taken any notice of before. You could have sworn you were able to count how many chemicals went into creating the overly sterile smell that was entrapped in the room with you. You could hear the faint hum of the lights hanging over you like a fly you couldn’t swat away and the brightness that came with it was even worse. What’s more, you could feel the cold breeze coming through the air conditioning that was making the hairs on your arms stand like tiny spikes. The only good thing that came from your reawakened senses was your ability to appreciate just how soft the sheets below you were. You hadn’t stopped bunching them up in your fists ever since you woke up.

It was strange, not being able to remember what it felt like to have full awareness of your surroundings. Unfortunately, the one aspect of your mind that remained was the part you wanted gone the most.

“It’s an improvement,” your stubborn companion told you as he stalked around the edge of the room and inspected everything he laid his orange eyes on. “Just don’t trust them,” he said. You didn’t respond, all too aware of the camera blinking in the corner of the room. You didn’t know who these people were, but you were sure it wouldn’t be ideal if they saw you talking to someone who wasn’t there. You needed to keep that to yourself, at least until you knew what they wanted from you. “And don’t look weak,” he added as he spotted the two women venturing down the corridor towards your room that they stepped into with ease, making you suddenly very aware of how easy it would be to come and go from the room as you pleased. You rubbed your wrists subconsciously where your cuffs had turned them red. No chains either.

Neither of the women were dressed in the usual white coats or tunics you were used to seeing. They wore casual clothing, and carried a similar pair, as though they had invited you into their own home like an abandoned stray they found on the streets. Though neither was standing overly close to you, the subtle scent of oak and vanilla drifted across subtly and was a welcomed change from the smell of chemicals. Combined with the looks of sheer curiosity, they did little to intimidate you and you wondered if that was worth trusting.

“How are you feeling?” The first woman spoke. You couldn’t say for sure, but if you had to guess you would say the women before you were the ones that had taken you from your old room. You swallowed the dryness in your mouth that shifted to your throat and nodded, holding no faith in your inactive voice box to give them an audible response. The redhead seemed to notice and glanced at the full water jug on the table next to you.

“That water’s for you,” she offered, less smiley than the brunette though her sincerity was still present. You nodded again, not about to tell her that thirst was normal ever since you had started being peg fed. Surely they had seen the small tube across your stomach. “And so are the clothes,” she added as she placed them down on the edge of the bed. They looked to be a set of comfortable sweatpants and shirt.

“I’m Wanda, by the way, and this is Natasha,” the brunette chipped in as she sat down in the chair next to your bed. Natasha lingered for a moment before taking the seat next to her. Wanda noticed your hesitancy as you regarded them both. “Don’t worry, she’s not as scary as she looks.” At this, the redhead cracked a smile towards the floor while the bear man grunted in acknowledgment, still wandering the perimeter. “We want to help you, y/n,” Wanda said with a sincerity you really hoped was genuine. You didn’t want to let yourself get too hopeful, nor would your embodied conscious let you, yet the pair brought an undeniably hint of calm upon you that wasn’t artificial for once.

“And to do that we need to know if you have any abilities we should know about,” Natasha added.

“Don’t,” the bear man warned and you had to resist the urge to look at him because you couldn’t answer that question with absolute certainty. You knew that you had done something all those years ago, something bad, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what. Of whatever had transpired, you could only remember the screams.

You shook your head but your lying skills were horribly out of practice. “They know,” the draped man said at once and you winced.

“Okay,” Natasha replied as the pair resisted exchanging a glance at your misinformation. They didn’t put it against you, betting they would both have done the same in your situation. Just because you had been taken away from one hell didn’t mean you hadn’t been placed into another.

“Try and get some sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” Natasha continued as she stood up from the chair. Wanda did the same as you looked as though you wanted to say something. You chewed your gums, considering the request you wanted to make. “Is there anything else you need?” The redhead asked.

“Han…handcuffs,” you croaked, barely recognising your own voice.

“What are you doing?” The bear man objected with a fierce glare.

“That’s not necessary,” Wanda insisted, noting how you rubbed your wrists and able to connect the dots.

“Okay,” Natasha said instead, reaching into the drawers kept by the door as her girlfriend shared the bear man’s displeasure. They both stared holes into the back of Natasha’s head as she slipped the cuffs around your left wrist loosely and attached it to the other bed rail and waited for you to offer your other wrist.

“No, Nat-” Wanda frowned at the redhead’s actions, unable to determine where they had stemmed from.

“I’m putting the key here, okay? If you want them taken off you can ask anyone that comes in,” Natasha informed you as she placed the key down on the bedside table just slightly out of your reach.

“Get them off!” The bear man hissed but you paid him no mind as you felt the weight of the cuffs. They were far lighter and looser than what you were used to and you had to tell yourself that it was a good thing. It wasn’t normal to sleep restrained, you knew that, but years of having the habit forced upon you was surprisingly alarming to break once you had the opportunity. Besides, it was going to be your first night sleeping without sedation or high security since… Well, you couldn’t risk the safety of the people that you may owe a great deal to.

“Than’ you,” you muttered, missing how Wanda’s features softened at your relief before following her partner out of the room in silence.

It wasn’t until they made it back to their own room that Natasha finally answered the unasked question that had followed them. “I needed them too after I left the red room,” she said simply. “We had to sleep in cuffs as well,” she added as Wanda listened intently and met her girlfriend’s soft eyes that only ever came out in that room. Wanda didn’t respond immediately, opting to close the distance between them by trailing her hands up Natasha’s arms until they snaked around her neck. “Being in a new place can be scary so sometimes you just need some familiarity.”

“Thank you for telling me,” the brunette murmured gently. Natasha smiled back and brought her lips to Wanda’s in a tender kiss. “I know it’s not easy,” she added, brushing her nose against the Russian’s. “I’m glad you were there, I don’t know if I would have said yes to her,” she admitted. Natasha hummed.

“You want to help her, so do I,” she stated.

“It might be easier said than done,” Wanda said as she considered the weight of what they had taken on. She didn’t regret any of it by any means, but they hadn’t anticipated finding anything like you at that base and weren’t sure how to adapt. Wanda thought she could understand how it felt to be in your place, but seemingly the spy once shared the same mentality you did.

“Undoubtedly, but we’ll figure it out,” Natasha assured as she rested her hands comfortably on Wanda’s waist. “We always do.”

“Have you seen this?” Bruce asked as he picked up the glass slide that held several drops of your blood on before peering over at the small tube that contained the rest, alarmed to find it in the same state.

“Is that y/n’s blood?” Tony picked up the tube and gazed at the blue liquid inquisitively. They hadn’t even started looking at the results of the tests that had just come through before they spotted the bizarre substance. “I don’t remember it being blue when we took it.”

“It wasn’t,” Bruce said with certainty as he ventured over to the computer screens in hopes of getting some answers. “But it’s certainly different.”

“Radiation maybe?” Tony suggested.

“More like reptile,” the scientist said as he highlighted the most unique traits that the computer identified. “I thought this would give us some answers but now I just have a million more questions,” he huffed as he leant back to examine the screens from a distance. “And I still have no idea what kind of containment we need to prepare.”

“Just don’t mention that around Romanoff and Maximoff,” Tony muttered as his phone chimed in his pocket. It was a message from Steve, calling both of them to the conference room along with an invitation to join a call between the captain and FuturGenus. It took Tony a second to realise that must be where you had come from and swiftly accepted the call.

“Stark,” he answered as he beckoned Bruce to follow him.

“Mr Stark, I’m glad you could join us,” a corporate voice replied.

“They want y/n back,” Steve was quick to inform, evidently haven talked to the organisation long enough already.

“In the interest of everyone’s safety,” the spokesman added calmly.

“Except y/n’s, right?” Tony said, far past caring for any retributions that would come with being so blunt.

“Gentleman, I don’t think you understand what exactly you are keeping in your home.”

“Then explain it to us,” Bruce interjected as he listened in.

“That’s confidential,” the voice said with a practised ease. “If you hand it- Ms l/n back then we can resume our assessment of-”

“I think y/n can decide where she wants to stay,” Steve said at once. He may not have been the biggest fan of you staying in the base, but there was no way he would willingly hand you back to FuturGenus.

“Very well, you can’t say we never tried,” the spokesman threatened just as Tony and Bruce entered the conference room only for the phone to hang up.

“Please tell me you’ve found something,” the blonde sighed as he pinched the space between his eyes. The scientists looked at each other, only certain of one thing.

“She’s cold-blooded.”

You stared down at the plate on the table over your lap with some scepticism, unsure of what exactly the contents of the meal entailed. You could tell that whoever had prepared and plated the dish had done their best to make it look as appetising as possible, but that was no easy feat to accomplish with the three small piles. One of the doctors, you couldn’t remember her name, had told you she didn’t believe you needed a peg tube anymore as they had no intention of sedating you. That meant you could go back to eating the normal food you had missed but that you needed to ease your body back into it, starting with puree. Once you could show them you could handle it, they would take the tube out.

Fortunately, the food was at least warm, taking your mind momentarily off of the insistent air conditioning that was still giving your goosebumps. You picked up the spoon, stumbling for a few moments as you worked to reawaken your muscle memory and began eating. Maybe it was because it was the first thing that had touched your tastebuds except for blood in years, but it was really fucking good food. The small portion was gone in under a minute.

You hadn’t seen the bear man all morning, a promising sign that he wouldn’t always be by your side or lingering at the front of your mind. It was far more peaceful without him and allowed your attention to continuously be drawn to the window along the wall behind you. It was a panel piece of glass that wouldn’t open and it was only about three feet long but you didn’t mind, glad that it provided you a chance to see the sky outside. There were a few clouds that you had watched pass by gradually, but generally it was a clear day. You used to always make sure you went outside on a day like that, even for a little while, so that you wouldn’t feel too cooped up once the sun went down.

Noticing that the hallway outside of your room was deserted, you moved your covers back with uncertainty, waiting for someone to walk by and demand you get back into bed. Five minutes passed and no one came, so you dropped your bare feet onto the chilled floor and padded along to the window that was too high up for you to lean against but not so much that it was above your chin.

You had no idea where you were, but the building was surrounded by more luscious green than you had ever seen in your life. Just outside was a vast field that looked to be about the size of a football pitch and it was bordered by a dense forest that stretched on for as far as you could see from the third or fourth floor. It was incredible. Your muscles ache to explore everything that you lay your eyes on, while your mind warned of the dangers of leaving. Going out into the world was a luxury you no longer possessed, but it was nice to imagine for a second what it would be like to be out there, unaware of the faint smile that crept onto your lips as you enabled the fantasy.

You were, somehow, a hazard.

However, not everyone shared that belief.

Natasha was pleased to see you out of bed as she strolled down the corridor to your temporary room. She paused once she reached the door, considering whether or not to leave you alone for a while before deciding that your circumstances didn’t really leave much room for that. The Russian knew that the team was getting angsty over the uncertainty of what you were capable of, even if she didn’t yet know how willing to defend you they were.

Once she turned the door handle, you spun around in a start to face Natasha with wide eyes. “It’s alright,” she assured at once and you visibly calmed upon recognising the redhead. “You can get out of bed. You can come out of the room too if you want,” she continued. “Even outside,” she said even though she knew she shouldn’t. You shook your head, unwilling to risk any harm that Natasha didn’t seem to think you were capable of inducing. She nodded respectfully.

“Mind if I sit?” She asked and it was then that you noticed the pack of playing cards in her hands. Intrigued, you shook your head again. “Wanda’s finishing paperwork from the other day and she’s kind of been kicking my ass at cards lately,” Natasha explained as she began to shuffle through the deck. “You up for a game?” She asked so nonchalantly that you didn’t need to think about it. You didn’t verbally respond, but you went back and perched on the bed with the table between you with clear interest. “Great, do you know Go Fish?”

After Natasha reminded you of the rules of the game, you spent a while playing comfortably. It felt good to be playing a card game again. It felt normal and Natasha treated it as much. She won more than you, not feeling the need to take any pity on how out of practice you were by throwing any of the matches. You had no idea how much time had passed or how many games you had played before Natasha started making comments out of the game as you played.

“How are your wrists?” She asked as they were only a little scratched instead of raw and scabbing.

“Okay,” you said with that same scratchiness that didn’t seem to be going away.

“We should get you some throat soothers,” Natasha quipped when she noticed, earning her a small smile as you continued to look at the cards.

“Only…eating puree,” you told her.

“Cho said that’s just temporary,” she pointed out. You nodded and placed down a winning card. Natasha huffed and let you take all of the cards to reshuffle them. “Did the cuffs help you sleep?” You glanced at her, weighing the honesty in your mind.

“Yes,” you hesitated. “The bed is…very soft,” you commented and lucky Natasha caught on to what you were implying.

“Too soft,” she finished for you. You nodded. “We can move you somewhere more comfortable.” You slowed the shuffling, considering what another move could mean. “If you don’t like the rooms, you don’t have to stay in them,” Natasha told you simply. You took a chance and looked the spy straight in the eye, hoping you would be able to detect any false promises. Deciding to believe her, you nodded and dealt the cards again. “But we need to know if there are any adaptations we should make.” You didn’t respond. “For any abilities,” she added.

“I don’t know what I can do,” you told her slowly but looked at her as you spoke, hoping that she would know you weren’t lying. “But I know it’s bad.”

“I don’t think so,” Natasha said simply. “I think you’ve just spent long enough being told that to believe it,” she continued, remembering how that felt and how long it could take to be convinced otherwise.

You really hoped she was right.

“Come on, let's find you somewhere better to stay,” Natasha invited as she stood up from the seat. You hesitated, peering down the corridor and considering your options before deciding that risks or not, you wanted to make the most of your compacted freedom.

Natasha concealed a smile of triumph when she saw you slide out of the bed, not wanting to make a big deal out of the small win, and led you down the corridor at a leisurely pace. The redhead pointed out the different rooms and sections of the base to you as you passed even though she knew it took a while to learn the base’s layout, occasionally comparing the building to the tower the team used to reside in. The Avengers had come together shortly after you were taken so you took her word for the comparisons blindly.

You didn’t cross paths with anyone until you reached the rooms. All of the communal areas, kitchens and corridors that you crossed were deserted though Natasha didn’t mention why. You had questioned it as you ventured throughout the building, just never aloud. Truthfully, you had a few questions about the base but figured as they were purely down to curiosity it would be best to keep them to yourself. The main one being, who the hell were these people?

“And these are the rooms,” Natasha announced at the front of two corridors. “The boys are down there but they all have their own homes so they usually just use them for crashing in after missions,” she explained, only giving you more questions. “But me and Wanda stay here,�� she said simply, offering no explanation as to why they didn’t feel the need to have a home away from their workplace.

As if she had heard her name being mentioned, Wanda came through the closest door and smiled upon noticing you and Natasha. “That’s our room,” the redhead informed. Oh? Five years in captivity had really thrown off your gaydar.

“Cool,” you muttered, glad you had at least something in common with the two women.

“You can take any of these rooms.” You peered down the corridor, counting five doors in total. Were they all the same? Were some of them safer than others? Maybe it would be best if you went to the end room in case anything happened.

Wanda noted your silent anguish. “The one next to us has a pretty good view,” she told you as she opened up the door in question. You followed on without much convincing and took in the space before you. Judging by the rest of the building, you had half expected it to be much larger than it was but you were relieved to find that wasn’t the case. Similarly, there were no obnoxiously large windows across the walls and they were instead placed at head height and large enough to let a generous amount of natural light in while still giving you privacy. There was a made up double bed in the centre, a desk, ensuite, tv and what you presumed to be a closet. You had never had any of those possessions or amenities before. Now you were being offered them all and you still weren’t sure what it was you needed to do to make your keep or how long they wanted to put you up. Did they just want to keep running tests on you? Did they want to keep you away from the public? Were they hoping to benefit from your mystery abilities? These were questions you couldn’t keep pondering in silence because the anticipation of what was next was killing you.

“What is this place?” You asked slowly as you faced the two women in the doorway.

“The Avenger’s base?” Natasha answered.

“What’s the Avengers?” You continued when neither showed signs of being irritated by your questioning.

“We’re a team that was brought together to do some good,” the redhead said. “That’s not to say that we all haven’t made mistakes. We’ve all messed up at one point or another, but now we’re trying to use our skills and abilities to fight where we need to and help where we can.”

“Abilities?” You frowned. Natasha glanced at Wanda who lifted her right hand and suddenly produced a small bloom of red flecks that swirled around her fingertips like some kind of lifeform. You didn’t say anything, but your awe was evident by your slightly parted lips and mesmerised gaze. Wanda smiled at your reaction and let the red disperse, planning on showing you more some other time when you might not be so overwhelmed.

“What else?” You asked at once, taking both of them by surprise.

“Steve and Bucky are strong, Sam can fly,” Wanda began to list. “Vision is a robot.”

“Clint can shoot arrows but he claims to be retired,” Natasha added. “Then there are the ones that are more…part time,” she summarised.

“What about you?” You inquired.

“Spy,” she shrugged nonchalantly and you couldn't help but let a faint smile slip through at the sheer absurdity of it all. Yet you believed every word. There wasn’t much else to go on.

“Right,” you muttered. “And where do I fit into all this?”

“That’s what we want to figure out,” Wanda replied, knowing that it was all a lot to take in. What if you can’t? You wanted to ask but decided against it once you realised you might get an answer you didn’t want.

“Okay,” you settled with, though your shaky exhale wasn’t missed.

“We’ll give you some space,” Wanda said. “But if you need anything you know where we’ll be,” she offered with a sincere smile.

“Thanks,” you said before they closed the door. You gave the room another glance over before heading to the bathroom where you found the compact walk-in shower that you had hoped to discover. Without a moment’s delay, you lay down on the hard plastic floor and tried to focus on the inclusion and faint coolness felt through your clothes. You curled your knees up to your chest and hugged them tight, hoping against all odds that you could provide the Avengers with whatever they were looking for.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #gxg marvel #wandanat #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #wandanat x reader

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roseykat · 2 months

Text

TITLE: Venom Eater

SUMMARY: Moving on proves its challenges. Not everyone has the ability to accept that what happened, happened - and what was, was. So as you try to lead a new life, single and trying to heal, the journey proves to be far from easy. It’s worse than difficult and more painful than what you could’ve imagined. The only comforting source is that what will be, will be. And there’s no changing that.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of breakups, exes, angst, arguments, swearing, smut, slices of life here and there, alcohol (Jisung is drunk but there isn’t much detail on it), confrontation.

WC: 6K+

TAGLIST: @emikisses @linos-kitten @chansbabygirlsstuff @lixiespick @frogieeheart @/fuckthinking @nimx9 @/shishou1687 @inniescandy-01 @konstanceee @/rose13255 @queenmea604

Venom Biter (Part 1) | MASTERLIST

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 to Venom Biter! This was originally meant to be longer but I decided that I wanted to flesh out the plot a little bit more so things will get worse and or better who knows…

There’s never a grey area about what people do after a terrible breakup. It’s always black and white. Whether someone cuts their hair, dyes it, alters their aesthetic, or goes on holiday to escape the reality.

The gym can make for the perfect best friend to subtly take revenge on someone a person once had.

But your new best friend was Tinder. A platform of opportunities to explore and select at your perusal. Providing you with gorgeous men who were looking to fuck and nothing more than that. If Tinder wasn’t the buzz for you that night, it would be going out with friends - friends that didn’t include ones that you made through Minho.

These ones’ you would only see about once every three months then band together again as if nothing has changed in the space between. It’s not awkward when you’re around them and so far, it has taken your mind off the past two months. Since then, your connection with Minho has been one of which where-

“God fuck I’m cumming!”

Minho knows he is too when his eyes screwed shut, laying back as he lets you use his cock, “shit, so am I,” he breathes out, watching you roll your hips in a frantic craze to get yourself over the edge. You miss this.

The way that you squeeze around him is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Minho swears towards the ceiling, back arching as his dick glides in deeper. Within a couple of seconds, his vision flashes just as white as your insides that he fills.

The top half of your body flops forward onto his chest, spent from the past fifteen minutes that you’ve been riding him non-stop. Now it’s almost possible to hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat that violently bashes from within. Not wanting to stay in that position for any longer, you peel yourself back, hopping off his body.

“I need you out by seven,” you declare, picking up his sweatpants and t-shirt from the floor and then throwing them right at him.

Minho grumbles but doesn’t flinch, “seven? Fucking hell.”

“Well, I have to go to work so you’re not staying.”

“I figured that,” he fusses before sitting up. “At least let me use your gym here.”

You pause for a second to look at him, wondering where he gets his audacity from sometimes, “fine.”

“Thank you,” he replies then starts donning his clothes as you make your way to the bathroom for a hot shower.

This is what it’s been like for a while now - a pernicious seesaw effect of meeting up with Minho, sleeping with him (usually in the mornings), and going about your day as if he wasn’t in your guts twenty minutes ago.

It’s always a good feeling in the moment but after, there’s a lingering icky weight that you’re tirelessly towing along with you wherever you go. You’re not sure if Minho feels the same because even though you’ve talked to him a few times, there’s no talk of each other's feelings anymore. It’s not that neither of you are ready for that looming and tender conversation. It’s just as if there’s no point.

By the time you were out of the shower, Minho was still on the edge of your bed, fully clothed and ready to leave.

“I’m not making you breakfast,” you say to him, wrapping the towel around your body a little tighter.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to,” he responds. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until the end of the day, because I need to get ready for work.”

He groans, getting fed up, “surely you can get ready and listen at the same time.”

You rustle through your drawers for a pair of underwear and bra, “to other people maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to use the gym, go now,” you instruct sternly, hoping that he’ll just disappear.

When he detects that he can’t get through to you right now, he gives up. It’s too early to argue, so places his hand on the door handle, opening it for himself to leave and head down to the first floor, leaving you to prepare for another day’s work in peace.

After a quick breakfast, getting dressed and decent, you grab your bags and depart. On your way out, you spot Minho using the weights while you dart past the foyer, briefly thinking about how the time to cut him off is fast approaching.

You can’t keep doing this. There’s no way to move on if you’re both still latched onto each other's ankles like how kids are with their parents. That need for one another is still present.

“Who even am I when I’m not with you?” Minho asked you two weeks into sleeping with him again after breaking up. His comment sums up the reason of ‘why you decide to keep running back to each other’.

It’s not a hard statement to understand. You’ve been with Minho for a long time, you’re both still young and haven’t dated anyone else except between yourselves. It’s like being a dog that was never socialised as a puppy, unable to interact with others because it’s not sure how.

Suppose it’s the fear and anxiety that comes with separating from your favourite person.

The world and society have become scarier than it previously was and life is not as secure when you’re not with the person who can shield you from those things. There’s no comfort, only pure vulnerability, and what better way to feel protected than to return to a lover even when there’s nothing but a feeble spark that’s left over from what was once a blazing forest fire.

Seungmin challenges that particular view of yours at dinner with Felix as well after a long day at work. He wanted to see where you were coming from but also because he’s there to force feed you the icy, sobering truth when you don’t want to hear it.

“If there’s no romance, what’s the point of going back to each other?” he asks.

“They were dating for years Seungmin, you don’t just get over someone that quickly,” Felix responds instead like he was the one being offended.

Dissimilar to Seungmin, Lix will let you down gently and is afraid to hurt you with the sharp use of words that can be sometimes.

“Supposedly,” you mutter to yourself knowing full well how fast it was for Minho to just go ahead and fuck someone else after you had broken up.

“Do you still love him?” Seungmin questions swiftly.

“No,” you respond promptly.

“If there was an opportunity to get back together with him, would you go for it?”

“No,” you answer again. “I couldn’t.”

Felix blinks, not expecting that answer, “well…then…”

“Then stop seeing him if you know what’s good for you,” Seungmin continues. “Those icky feelings that you get after sleeping with him - not good. That’s the regret you’re experiencing and it’ll never feel any better.”

There’s no crack or fault in his advice. Had you not dished out the truth about the details of your messy breakup before and after, you would’ve still been glued to the same spot. It’s important to have someone humble you, and there’s no better person to do that than Seungmin.

“Just keep thinking about it, okay? On another note, Hyunjin’s coming back from France next week so we’re having a dinner and drinks,” Seungmin mentions.

Your mind briefly departs from the subject of your ex, “is he? Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, also surprised. “You’re coming right? We’re going to have a few drinks too, and catch up.”

“What time?” You ask.

“Around six,” Seungmin answers. “Does Minho know?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shrug, the thought of him returning to your mind once again. “I don’t know if he’d have any interest in going since they’re not friends anymore.”

Felix recalls that factor, “that’s right. But, if the rest of us are going to be there, we should invite him too, no? Unless it’s too difficult for y-”

“It won’t be difficult,” you reply, punctuating the rest of Felix’s sentence a little too quickly. “He and I can get along for about…ten minutes before things go sour. Plus, I don’t mind not going if he wants to. I can always catch up with Hyunjin another day.”

“You’re our friend too, remember? Don’t let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend stop you from seeing us. You broke up with him, not us,” Seungmin sends you a powerful reminder. “I’ll have a chat with him so that you don’t have to.”

He has a full understanding that if you and Minho were to attempt another civil conversation, it’ll go haywire and lead to more regret that you don’t need to be feeling right now. It just goes to prove that he’s beyond correct to even assume that fact.

The minute you both try to convey how or what it is that you’re both feeling, tensions boil over. For some reason that tension is only resolved by being bent over the nearest surface and fucking it out together.

It’s not healthy.

You go to remind Minho of what he did to you which he hates hearing, not because he denies it but because he does truly feel guilty. His only saving grace to that argument was that you had both technically broken up, meaning there were no ties to one another afterwards. Still, he missed the point of the fact that he hurt you as a result of those actions. It was too fresh to have done that to you.

Even when he recognised that factor, it was hard for him to accept that he actually caused you some form of irreversible emotional harm

However, Seungmin was right in the fact that you broke up with Minho and not your friend which enabled you to leave that dinner feeling a bit better and with a clearer judgement about going forward with a decision to cut all ties with Minho. It wasn’t something to look forward to.

But what was, is the dinner in the upcoming week. It’s the prime opportunity to see everyone again for the first time in over a month.

Despite your collection of text messages and calls from the likes of Chan, Jisung, Changbin and others, it was hard to associate yourselves with them in fear that all they’ll do is unintentionally remind you of Minho. It was the same way he felt when he was clearing out his house - not wanting to be around anyone or anything that would refresh his memory of you.

Now, all you want to do is move on.

Work had a helping hand in that process. Having been so busy with things piling up, your mind was free from Minho during the day. You were able to focus on tasks instead of wallowing and thinking about whether or not to give him a second chance

If it weren’t for Seungmin texting you the details of the upcoming dinner, work-life would’ve swallowed you up whole and made you forget.

From Minnie: 6 pm we’re meeting up, Also, just a heads up, Minho said he’s coming. Take it with a grain of salt though bc he might change his mind.

To Minnie: Thank you :)

You inhale a breath of fresh air. Going to this dinner was necessary whether it was going to be difficult or not. The presence of Minho wasn’t going to stop you from seeing your friends, and with that, you decide to get ready and head straight to the venue.

The restaurant has a separate open area for functions and tables people can book out. The dim golden lighting brings a warm and cosy vibe to the venue, coupled with a beautiful earthy aroma from reed diffusers distributed around the place and the smell of promised good food. It’s a relatively fancy setting, but not to a degree where you would be denied entry if you didn’t meet a dress code.

As you walk further down, you can already see Chan and Jisung chatting up a storm in the corner while they wait for the others. It’s a relief that not many people have made it so far in order to keep as low of a profile as possible and to not draw attention to yourself. However, little by little, they will definitely notice you’re there.

Jisung is the first to spot you, his jaw becomes unhinged as he drags himself out of the booth, speeds over with his face lit up, and throws his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. He nearly squeezes and shifts all of your organs out of place.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he exclaims loudly in your ear.

Chan laughs in the distance at his best friend's behaviour, “let her breathe Jisung.”

He releases your body for a rush of oxygen to surge back to your brain, “sorry, I just can’t help the fact that I haven’t seen you in a month!”

“You Facetimed me Jisung,” reminding him of that one and only time you accepted him reaching out to you to see if you were okay.

“That’s completely different, anyway sit down,” he offers. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Without wanting to hear any protest from you, Jisung darts off to the bar nearby, ordering a beverage or two. Chan then waves out, ushering you to come and sit before you walk towards the booth.

“If I had gone another week without seeing you, I’d probably start to forget what you look like,” Chan jokes, patting his hand down on the space of cushion beside him for you to sit.

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you respond.

The second you’re seated, you can already feel Chan’s mind trying to intrude yours. There’s no point in lying to him when he’s akin to one of those Occlumens from Harry Potter, an all knowing person who can hear every one of your thoughts at will. Regardless of the fact that he’s not, it’s his parental nature which exudes that.

“Going okay?” He asks you.

You take a deep breath in and sigh out, “I could be worse.”

“You’re still here though,” he responds wisely. “And so are we.”

Chan never wanted to ask why you never told them or came to them when you first broke up with Minho. They all had to find out through one another then needed to text or ring you to confirm that it was actually real. However, they all knew that you must’ve had your reasons. Naturally, it would’ve been tough to accept let alone leaning on your close friends for support.

“Thank you,” you respond.

“Here we go,” Jisung calls out, carefully returning with two different types of cocktails. “They’re both strong as hell so don’t try to choose.”

“Not that you’d have it any other way right?” you reply, helping him with the glasses as he sits down beside you.

He pats your head as he goes to sit down and slings his arm around your shoulder, “you know me too well. Anyway, Changbin and Hyunjin are here. He just texted me before.”

Chan sulks, “what? No! he was supposed to wait until everyone else was here.”

“To be fair, they were meant to be here twenty minutes ago so Changbin is actually on time,” Jisung responds. “Anyway, how are you missy?”

“Better now that I’m with you guys,” you answer, giving him a bit of a friendly nudge before leaning into him.

Jisung grins, genuinely relieved on the inside to hear that you are. Not that you have been able to notice, but they were all worried for you at one point. The lack of information regarding your whereabouts or even the state of your well-being was concerning. It was almost like you had dropped off the face of the earth at one point, right up until you finally made the decision to start accepting people trying to contact you.

Unfortunately for your friends, they had to learn about what you were up to through Minho, and even today, you’re not sure if what he said to them was the truth. Nonetheless, they all knew at the end of the day, if they were ever unsure or suspicious of what he was feeding to them, they were mature enough to come to you to double check. If they were able to get through to you.

“Good. Now come back and hang out with me because these guys are boring.”

Chan goes to lift a finger and point across at Jisung to object his statement before Changbin rounds the corner with Hyunjin trailing at his side.

The last you saw him was some five years ago, just before he went away to an arts’ school in France to study. Now he returns taller with much more cut and distinct features and a head of light brown hair that’s visibly eclipsed his natural jet-black colour. Despite that, he also seems softer or shy when he gives everyone at the table a half smile.

“Who’d you say was boring?” Changbin prods into the conversation.

Jisung points up with his beverage in hand, “you and Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows knit together with worry, “is he drunk already?”

A bright smile fashions on Changbin’s face when he notices you, “Y//N! Now it’s two welcome home parties!”

Hyunjin turns to look down at you in surprise, “have you been away as well?”

His question serves as a reminder that he has been relatively out of the loop since he’s been gone – not that you expected him to be fully aware of everything since he probably had better things to do. Hyunjin was still active in the group chat, but none of you prefer to communicate that way when hanging out is the better option. Whilst he’s missed out on a lot of stuff that’s happened, he hasn’t been so oblivious to other things.

“Not exactly,” you respond awkwardly. “But welcome back by the way.”

He smiles softly, “thank you.”

The get-together officially kicked off when Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix arrived just before the second round of drinks was ordered. Everyone was happy to have Hyunjin back. Even for you, it was nice to see him again after so long – it was nice to see everyone in general. The setting was reminiscent of old times when everyone banded together. Whether it was at karaoke, dinner, a bar, someone’s house, or at some event, it’s always a good feeling when you’re around them.

It leads you to feel slightly upset that you haven’t seen them in so long. You’ve missed hearing their laughs, their jokes, and the safety that you feel too. But for a very painfully obvious reason, none of it seems to be the same without Minho.

“Didn’t show up did he?” Seungmin, who had been chatting up a storm with someone at the bar, walks over and takes a seat opposite you at the cornered booth. Just about all of them were alternating from the table to the bar, and a space they’d found to stand up to talk, or in Jisung’s case, dance by himself.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Which I’m sure is a good thing.”

He shrugs carelessly but with a small grin, “for your benefit. Not that I’m an expert in relationship problems but I can speak from personal experience.”

“That’s true,” you respond, remembering that he has in fact had his heart broken a few times by the same person.

Luckily for him, he’s ceased the chase and gave an account the other day at dinner of how freeing it was to be his own individual. It’s something you can only hope to achieve at this point – to be liberated from that sticky dependency you have on Minho.

It’s not love that you feel for him anymore, you’re sure of it. But it’s similar to a violent craving. His skin, voice – oh his voice. Everything about his body has you itching under the surface to have him by your side even though things end in a fiery argument, which is usually how it goes.

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependency. A type of separation anxiety that fills you up with this icy cold feeling that won’t go away until you specifically have Minho near you. Still, deep down, you knew you didn’t love him anymore.

“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin ticks his head towards his friends’ direction.

Judging by the fact that Chan was holding a barely conscious Jisung up was a clear indicator that he definitely wasn’t okay. Never has he been able to handle his alcohol well and it was evident by the lack of control over his own body.

Seungmin looks over concernedly then looks down at his phone to check the time, “shit, I have to take him home too.”

He abandons you briefly to help out Chan. Both of them collectively agree that Jisung needs to go home or at the very least be removed from the bar to sober up. They take him to an empty table nearby and ask the bartender for some water. Meanwhile, Hyunjin turns a blind eye to the chaos and talks to you instead.

“How have you been Y/N?” He asks.

“Yeah, good. You? How was France?”

By the look on his face, it was as if your question brought back a whole heap of good memories to the forefront of his mind, “I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.”

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. “So have you graduated already?”

“Three months from now I will be,” he answers. “Why? You wanna come watch me walk across the stage over there?”

You consider his offer, “what if I said ‘yes’ to that?”

“Then I’d be over the moon,” Hyunjin emphasises then offers a brilliant suggestion that springs into his mind. “In turn, maybe I can show you around France and all the places I went to.”

“Is that a deal then?”

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” he responds and whether he was joking or not, either way, it seemed a pleasant idea.

During the last hour of the dinner, you spent having an in-depth conversation with Hyunjin. From what he got up to in France, what he wants to do in the future, then covered what you’ve been doing as well

The topic of your ex-boyfriend was difficult to navigate, but you managed it well by diverting to another subject. The last thing you wanted to talk about was Minho for fear that the more you think about him, the more you’d want him.

Then again, you’re reminded once more of the fact that Hyunjin and Minho aren’t friends. He may not have any interest in him whatsoever. But it’s not like they left each other on horrendous terms. Not like how you and Minho did. Plus, it’s hard to see this fresh shade of Hyunjin in front of you, hating anyone he doesn’t like or doesn’t know.

The Hyunjin from five years ago would’ve held a grudge, but now you can see by his shift in personality, that he’s let it go.

When it came down to having to leave, everyone seemed to have their own plans. Seungmin would have the misfortune of taking care of Jisung. Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin decided to go bar hopping while they were still stable on their feet and even encouraged you to come with them. It took a lot of convincing to tell them ‘no’ after you were set on heading home to the comfort of your own space.

Seungmin assured Chan that he was fine to handle Jisung, then thought it would be a polite gesture to accompany your side when you decided to walk home, regardless if it was only a minute's commute from the restaurant.

“How are you holding up?” Chan addresses the elephant in the room.

His question could be seen a mile away. It made you wonder if that was the reason he chose to walk you home since his place is in the opposite direction. Although he wasn’t confronting you, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Somewhat okay, I suppose,” you answer.

“No, how are you really? We see Minho all the time. In fact, he won’t leave us alone. But we haven’t seen you,” he responds. “You can still hang out with us you know?”

“I know that,” you almost whine, especially after offering your ear to Jisung just for him to repeat the same words for over two hours. “I’ve been busy.”

“I guess being busy is a positive.”

“It’s when there’s nothing to do or I don’t feel good and I don’t have anyone around,” you respond and both come to a halt when you reach the entrance to your apartment building. “That’s the hardest.”

“That’s when you call us,” Chan says strictly. “I know you know this too, but all of us would drop whatever it is that we’re doing to come and help you. Not just Minho, even though I had some reservations about seeing him after what he did.”

The last parts of his words surprised you. Chan actually thought about cutting Minho off too when he found out what happened…

“So he did tell you everything.”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Including everything that you’ve both been up to now. Like how you still see each other now and then – and not for the reasons I had hoped. So why do you keep seeing him when you want to move on?”

Your eyes narrow at him, “how do you even know that I want to move on?”

“The fact that you still sleep with him but won’t pursue any sort of communication to get back with him romantically, says a lot Y/N. And I know that because he’s told me,” Chan answers bitterly, but not in a nasty way. “Your body might miss him, but I know your mind doesn’t.”

He’s bitten through the truth which you can’t seem to, his elderly brother-type personality forces you to see reason. You’d be offended if Minho tried to initiate a conversation about wanting to get back together, knowing that he’s not in any position to be making requests after what he did.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You ask tiredly.

“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “Yes, Minho too in some way, but I told him he needed to figure out what he did on his own because I can’t help him with that. That’s his punishment.”

You supress a laugh, “thank you.”

Your short talk with Chan made you realise how empty your cup had been since you last saw him – since you last saw all of your friends under one roof. It was rewarding and it felt like home to be near them. However, his words weren’t there for you to just defer from. You had to listen to him. He was right in saying that your body misses Minho but your mind doesn’t because the next time he came around, you swore to yourself that it was going to be the last time you saw him.

But it needed a conversation, one that you weren’t even sure if you were ready to have, too scared to rip that band aid off.

As you don your bra back on and shimmy on your underwear that Minho almost tore off, you think of all the possible ways to approach this situation, bearing in mind that it does have the potential to blow up.

“W-We need to talk,” you stammer, wondering if that’s a good way to start. It’s a start, that’s all that matters.

Minho stares at you from the other side of your bed, halfway through putting on his t-shirt, “okay, what about?”

Without any warning, you blurted out what needed to - what must be said, “we should stop seeing each other.”

Heavy silence drapes over the room, except for the cogs working overtime in Minho’s brain, trying to decode your words could almost be heard. You can most definitely see it on his deadpan face. It illuminates the seriousness of the situation compared to what it was five minutes ago.

“Can you give me some more detail about that?” He requests.

“I just don’t think it’s healthy that we continue to sleep with each other when we’re not going to get back together,” you inform him.

“You don’t want to get back together?” Minho poses the long awaited question that hurts to even conjure an answer.

“Be honest, we’d be together right now if you knew that I was serious about it,” you say truthfully. “I’ll never not love you, but I can’t love you in the way that I used to.”

The sheer surprise of the conversation made Minho realise that he’s been consuming too much of a good thing. That he actually wasn’t prepared to talk to you about this. It’s been creeping around the back of his mind since you both started seeing each other casually but ignored it so as to spend as much time with you as he could even though you weren’t with him anymore.

“Right.”

“Look, just…don’t go cold on me, because I do want to talk to you about these things,” you plead with him.

“Such as?”

“Such as our friends,” you start off. “All of us hang out a lot, but I didn’t want our…breakup to stop either one of us from seeing them. They’re your friends and mine too. I’d hate for us to be driven away from them because we can’t coexist anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

You can sense that he’s already starting to shut down. An obvious coping mechanism that’s triggered by something he wasn’t prepared to hear. But while the final shreds of his rationality are still with you in the room, you make haste, and dish out the important points he needs to know.

“We might not ever be friends again even though that’s not what I’m hoping for-“

Minho stands up from the edge of your bed, cutting the rest of your sentence off in the process, “if you’re serious about everything that you just said, then I don’t want to see you text or call me first asking me to come over. This isn’t a one-sided deal that only applies to me, you have to stick to it as well.”

“This isn’t even a deal Minho. I am telling you not to.”

“What? Telling me ‘not to’ because you can’t control yourself around me? Fine. I don’t know if you realise this, but the majority of the texts between the both of us, are mainly sent from you - you asking for me, telling me how lonely you are, or how much you miss my body. So don’t start handing out instructions when you’re not going to adhere to them as well.”

There’s a viper-like sting to his words that keeps piercing your resolve. A truthful sting that seeps poison into your blood, making you feel sick and cold. He’s torn you off your high horse for a moment, bringing you back down to earth to realise that it’s not just him who needs to see reason as well.

He had a very strong argument.

Minho sighs and tails more information to his tangent, “look I will do whatever it is that you want me to do. But, if this is what you want, then you can’t deny that it will only work one way.”

There’s an efflorescence of achiness in your chest. A familiar one that you felt in the early days after breaking up with Minho. It was the same one you would feel whenever you’d have to lock the door to the spare bedroom in his house whenever he bought someone else over.

Heartbreak.

It lingers when he finally leaves with the promise of never reaching out to you again, at least for sex because there was no way of avoiding him in the future. That fact was impossible to refute. But this is what breakups consist of. Not one hairline shy off of being messy. It could, though, be much worse. That’s as much you had to be grateful for when you have to start from square one all over again.

Changing things up was necessary. You had already moved out from Minho’s, which there was no choice behind, but that meant new scenery. Different places to peruse in your own time that you hadn’t yet ever since you had moved out

It opened up new opportunities to visit some local things, especially on your way back home from work as you decide to call into a small cafe.

Soft bossa nova plays calmly in the background as you stand and deliberate on something sweet to take home with you for after dinner. If it weren’t for the many niche options to select from, you would’ve almost missed the voice talking from beside you.

“I heard the matcha bread is nice here.”

Your surprise gets the better of you, almost forgetting how to speak for a split second when you see a familiar tall figure you met once more from the other week.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Wanna sit down together?”

You end up ordering yourself a warm drink and a sweet pastry to go while Hyunjin found a small table right in the crook of the cafe. His sudden appearance was rather pleasant, allowing you to divert from your own thoughts for a bit. Plus, it’s always nice to sit and chat with a friend.

“I thought you might’ve been here to meet up with one of the others,” you say to him.

Hyunjin nods, putting his coffee down, “I just spent the last couple of hours helping Changbin buy clothes just down the road at one of the shopping centres, so that’s where I came from.”

You smile, “well he trusts you more than the others in that department.”

“As he should,” Hyunjin grins softly. “How are you?”

“I’m well, I just finished work and was heading home,” you respond.

“I’m not keeping you from going am I?” He asks politely.

“No, not at all,” You quickly exclaim. “The longer I stay, the more of an excuse I have not to do the mountain of things I need to for work.”

Hyunjin chuckles, “well, as long as it doesn’t get you into trouble with your colleagues.”

“I should be fine,” you hope.

“You know, when I think about it, you and I never really spoke that much back then,” he points out. “I only just realised that from last week when I saw you again.”

His comment makes you think back too

Hyunjin was definitely part of your friend group, but not one who you would hang out with individually or with another person. He was just there, almost like he was known to you by association. Aside from the fact that he’s well-mannered and kind, the only aspect of his personality that seemed to have changed is how boisterous he used to be.

Although, that’s to be expected when people mature and cross the bridge from adolescence to adulthood.

“True enough,” you reply and start snickering when you remember something funny. “But I have good memories of you though. Like when you threw that bottle at Jisung.”

Hyunjin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “I remember that. I could’ve killed him with that too.”

“Or when Chan had to pull you up from the train tracks because you fell off the platform and got stuck,” you add on.

“Most of those memories seem to have some type of mortal peril attached to it,” Hyunjin discovers.

“You were young,” you remind him tenderly. “They make for the best memories anyway.”

He agrees, staring into a space on the table as he reminisces, “true. So much has changed since I got back. I feel like I’ve missed out on growing up with you all even though we were just teenagers back then and adults now.”

“Maybe, but we’re still young though and some have more growing up to do than others,” you hint very cryptically at one person who automatically springs to mind. “So don’t feel sad that you’ve missed out when there’s still a lot for us out there.”

Hyunjin sits a bit more comfortably knowing that. As you both continue to talk, he realises how much you’ve changed yet somehow remained the same. You grew into your features, enhancing what was already there to a finer degree. Your looks were Hyunjin’s first impression of you when you first met as devious young teenagers.

That was before he discovered that you are as kind and cool as you come across. But you were just distant friends back then. Now, Hyunjin detected a space for that to potentially change. He wanted to get to know the friend he hung out with here and there.

Even though time threatened to cut the starting opportunity short, it was still a start nonetheless, and Hyunjin was confident that there would be other times to arrive as well. So as the baristas begin cleaning up behind the counter and around the cafe, both you and Hyunjin took it as a sign that it was probably time to head off. You both take your belongings, thank the staff on your way out and head into the night.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says to you. “We should get coffee again sometime.”

You nod, “I’d love that. I still have your number.”

“So do I,” he replies. “What way are you heading?”

“I’m just literally around the corner, not even a minute away,” you answer.

“Okay, I’ll look forward to your text then,” he says.

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shady-tavern · 3 months

Text

Heart Song

The world was full of music and to you, that was beautiful. Everyone you met was surrounded by a melody, some louder and some quieter, some sad and some joyful, some struggling and changing tunes as they tried to find themselves and others marching forward, no matter the mismatched tones and half-broken sounding lyrics.

It had been difficult, growing up, to not get lost in the music constantly. Your parents hadn't understood what was going on, dragging you to doctors and trying out different medication, until you had been old enough to find the words, the proper explanation, to tell them how you saw the world.

A gifted child, your lot were called. People born with abilities that showed as early as when they were infants or sometime late in their adulthood. But the powers always revealed themselves and very, very rarely were not put to use.

You had found yourself responding to melodies that had wanted to be heard and seen and recognized even before you understood what they were, singing back at them clumsily until they had lost a hurt edge, until they had found meaning, until the song surrounding a person's heart rang like clear bells with the sound of hope-relief-healing.

Becoming a hero had, in a way, been the only sensible conclusion. You wanted to help and you could help, so why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you help sand down rough edges, help people over a bump in their road, help someone hurting find the strength to reach out?

Your parents had thankfully been the sensible and sceptical ones and had cautioned you against accepting just any hero gig, any contract that was extended to you. You had been so excited you had nearly accepted the first offer without question.

They taught you to read between the lines and always question things, especially if people in power reached out to you.

Hero contracts, as you had quickly learned, were rather intense. There was so much red tape surrounding everything and your parents really hadn't liked some of the wording of some of the passages and with great reluctance and perhaps a couple of tears, you had tossed those offers into the trash.

Right up until Redemption & Recovery had reached out to you. They had been a comparatively tiny organization back then, doing their best to help others with what funding they got. Almost all members were volunteers and the contract they had extended had, admittedly, looked pitiful compared to the promised salary of the big hero offices.

But their offer had been just what you had been looking for. Next to no red tape and your values and theirs aligned. The moment your parents gave their tentative green light you had called them straight away, telling them you wanted to work with them.

In the years that had followed you had made quite the name for yourself and the organization, which had grown in members and funding until it was one of the biggest. You were so proud of everyone and their hard work.

While you had become the face of R&R, fighting and going to interviews and fan meetings and doing your best to be present online, everyone else had been hard at work behind the scenes. Networking and outlining and signing contracts, choosing sponsors carefully and keeping the unyielding desire to make the world better alive, no matter how big the organization got.

Redemption & Recovery focused heavily on not only offering recovering villains all the tools to keep healing and improving, but they also offered services to the public to help people stay away from the villain business in the first place.

You still didn't have much of a salary compared to other famous heroes, but that worked just fine for you. You rather donated as much as you could feasibly give to R&R, to help finance the services they offered. The therapists and doctors they had on their payroll, as well as housing aid and financial advisors and lawyers to help people get back on their feet.

You still received offers from the big offices, who hoped to poach you from R&R and the latest offer had you choking on your breakfast when you had seen the salary and other perks they had offered. It had still gone into the trash, because the red-tape situation had been as bad as ever.

Besides, you were perhaps a bit...unique, among the heroes. The big offices would probably find working with you rather headache inducing.

You raced around a corner, heart in your throat at the sound of hurt-terror-helplessness that filled the air ahead of you as thickly as the dust and smoke from the collapsed building that had yet to settle. You leapt over rubble and debris, your breath catching when you heard another bit of building crumble somewhere to the left.

And among the injured civilians, the panicked people, one melody rang louder than the others. Loud enough to drench everything in agony-hatred-despair like a wailing siren.

You had heard bits and pieces of this particular melody in the past and you knew exactly who it belonged to. Eclipse, a high-level villain known for laying waste to entire city blocks whenever he appeared.

He was one of the villains who broke heroes left and right if they weren't strong enough to stand up to him and who had endangered many a civilian carelessly. No death count yet, but he was getting closer and closer to it every time he appeared.

Even now he had been lucky that people had gotten out of the building in time before it had started to collapse.

Official sources weren't sure if he even had full control of his powers, considering the often haphazard destruction and his at times openly visible frustration. Whatever was going on, however, everyone agreed that he needed to be stopped before he ended up killing, no matter if it was intentional or not.

Eclipse's focused face turned into a mask of fear the moment he noticed you from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to stare at you.

His heart song drew you unerringly to where he was in a showdown with two other heroes, newbies if you remembered correctly. The heroes were bleeding and limping but determined-angry-hurt and they would not stop until they could no longer get up.

You saw Eclipse raise a hand in your direction and you felt his power in the air, heavy like a yoke dropping onto your shoulders, with a sharp underlining that told you it was barely-controlled. The ground beneath you starting to crack, glass shattering further, steel beams yanking out of the rubble to hurl at you.

But you were close enough. You closed your eyes for a moment, senses honing in on his heart song and you took a deep breath and began to sing. You answered the anguished melody of his heart, desperate and with a hurt so deep it had stained every part of his life for far, far too long.

You were only peripherally aware of all the ammunition clattering to the ground, steel beams scraping to a stop, glass grinding into shards so fine they briefly resembled glittering snow.

The two heroes backed up, relief making their songs brighter as they turned to rush to the aid of the injured civilians, two who had gotten pinned by fallen concrete.

Eclipse collapsed to his knees, a keening noise escaping him, wounded and terrified and he burst into tears. His heart song was nothing but pain and hurt that was finally set free, like a wound that had needed to be drained of infection. Painful but necessary.

You hurried towards Eclipse as he helplessly sobbed in a way that reminded you of a child that had been abandoned by everyone, confused and terrified and so terribly alone.

Before you could reach him however, still singing, for you hadn't completed the melody yet, a different song sliced through the air like a serrated blade, sharp and cutting and jarring enough that it made you jolt to a stop.

You had just one moment to drag your focus away from Eclipse and back to the world around you, when Vision leapt out of the settling dust and rubble, his heart song a deep, echoing drum of vicious anger-determination-worry.

The sleek black metal helmet covering his head was faintly reflecting some sunlight and you dodged back just in time to avoid a kick to the middle. Two quickly and precisely aimed blows forced you to focus on the fight entirely and you had to cut off your song even as it felt like you were suddenly walking on spiky stones in your shoes.

Cutting songs short hurt and the rest of the melody still stuck within you started to claw at your lungs, demanding to be released. To be completed.

You managed to dodge around Vision, realizing that his heart song filled with righteous fury and blade-sharp worry gave you...nothing. It was rare, granted, but sometimes there were people who didn't want to be saved. Who didn't want or perhaps need your songs.

They wanted to be their own saviors.

You hadn't clashed with Vision before, but then again, heroes rarely did. He was a villain capable of seeing into the future and his ability to predict the outcomes of battles ahead of time, knowing the moves and abilities of heroes ensured that no one had ever won against him.

No trap had ever worked and he was one of ten villains who managed to keep everything about themselves private. He was also pretty much all over the place when it came to his MO, he seemed to enjoy dipping his fingers at least once into every pie.

That he was here, now, getting involved with you when you had never so much as seen his shadow fleeing his crime scenes made you think of the rumors you had heard recently. Of unexpected villain alliances and joint attacks.

You ducked out of the way of his next attack, sliding around his guard to trip him up. Vision was skilled, however, easily as skilled as you were in hand-to-hand combat and smoothly turned his fall into a drop and roll, avoiding your sweeping kick by a hair.

One thing however, became clear within even that short exchange of blows: He was willing to hit a lot harder than you.

You hated fighting. You loathed being the reason heart songs changed for the worse.

Fighting caused hurt and deepened the songs of pain-anguish-hate-loneliness. It filled the world around you with the sound of strings snapping and keys being smashed, as though an orchester had decided to get shitfaced drunk and now they were playing their instruments so hard they ended up breaking.

Hurting others was the ugliest song you knew and it made something in your very teeth ache like biting onto a bar of icy metal after drinking hot tea.

You managed to hold your ground, always peripherally aware of Eclipse, who was gasping sobs into his hands and the unfinished song scraping your ribs raw, right up until another villain joined the fray. She appeared so quickly you had no chance to react in time, not with Vision viciously on the attack.

Silver was a tough woman with the fiercest heart song you had ever heard, strong enough to crumble mountains like cookies and with such a drive forward that her melody could sweep anyone up in her rhythm, driving them to reach for the stars relentlessly.

Silver flicked out a dagger and the knowledge that she didn't kill didn't help one bit when she was well known for leaving heroes with career-ending injuries. She was so damn precise it usually only took her one hit to take heroes down. Even the powerful ones couldn't afford to slip up around her and they only ever took her on one-on-one, because even an inexperienced, second villain spelled their doom.

Vision already had you fully occupied and you had no chance to dodge, never mind counterattack.

You saw the flash of the blade, braced yourself for the pain, the songs around you suddenly too much, too loud, too – a sharp pop filled the air, followed by one of your favorite melodies in the world.

From the corner of your eye you saw the sweep of a night-black cape and a night-black gauntlet came up to parry Silver's blow, as Areth appeared at your back out of nowhere.

"Yo," Areth said with a sharp grin, a mask covering the upper half of her face.

"Lo," her twin Sorrel answered as he leapt out of her shadow and at Silver, tumbling her to the ground with a snarl.

"Is someone bullying our Cloud?" Areth asked as she whirled past you, striking out at Vision, disappearing and reappearing behind him before the hit landed, but it had the desired effect – he had reacted to her feint.

It left his flank wide open and her kick landed solidly, throwing him off his feet and he tumbled into the dirt and rubble as Areth took up position at your side. "You good, little Cloud?"

The twins had nicknamed you Cloud since they thought you lived with your head in the clouds, always listening to things no one else could hear, humming and smiling or frowning at nothing.

"Give me cover?" you asked, already running for Eclipse and picking his song back up, relief flooding your lungs and Areth's melody resonated protective-care-determination, turning her usually pleasant heart song into something beautifully fierce.

Her twin's song echoed hers as he dipped in and out of shadows, disarming Silver at last – not that that stopped her from being dangerous – while Areth moved to keep Vision occupied. Her teleportation skills were honestly some of the few abilities that could stand up to Vision's future-predicting powers.

She seemed to move too fast for him to reliably predict where she was going to end up next in the heat of battle. Which didn't mean that she had an easy time against him, but she at least was capable of landing a hit on him.

Eclipse's desperate melody took a metaphorical breath as your song rose over the sound of battle and you did your best to soothe him back out of the storm, to guide the hurt and bitterness and abandonment that drenched every single part of him towards release.

You had just barely finished the song, Eclipse's sobs slowly petering out as he sat sagged, utterly exhausted, when Areth appeared at your side, grabbing you. Sorrel slipped into her shadow and then you were gone. For just a split second, your world was...quiet. Quiet in a way it never was.

And then you stood a street over, sound and color and smell and taste filtering back and you needed a moment to reorient yourself before you turned around to where the battle had been, only for your breath to catch. A strange shimmer filled the air a few houses behind you, moving up and up at a rapid pace to create a massive dome.

"White Rabbit showed up," Areth said and her and Sorrel's melodies overlapped now, like two people singing the same song in perfect sync. They always sounded like this when he hid in her shadow and you were about the only person who had known from the beginning that Areth wasn't walking alone whenever she had shown up in costume.

You were about to hurry forward, when her hand found your shoulder. "Don't go, Cloud, you know that time's not on your side in there. Besides, the big league heroes are already on the way, though I doubt that by the time they break the dome they're going to find anyone but confused civilians."

You grimaced and reluctantly backed down. Your powers were absolutely and completely useless when it came to Timeless, who only needed to catch you up in either a time-freezing dome or had to rewind the last couple of seconds once you appeared to ensure you could be avoided. You had to get close enough to people after all for your powers to have the desired effect.

"Thanks," you said. "For helping me."

"Always, little Cloud." Areth gave your shoulder a gentle nudge, her and Sorrel's combined heart songs mellowing out into affection-kindness-protective. "You're one of the few actually, genuinely good eggs that we know." She paused looking up. "Aw, shit, bye!"

They teleported away and not a moment too late. Rescue heavily impacted where Areth had stood, having leapt from who-knew-where, straightening on powerful legs.

Rescue was a grizzled, old hero, one of the oldest and she rarely left her office these days, preferring to guide and teach the younger generation.

That she was here meant that Timeless' dome needed to go down stat.

Rescue tipped her head politely at you. "Anything you can tell me?" she asked, voice rumbling. "I saw the mess from my window and I'm sick and tired of meetings."

Or she had gotten bored. Rescue was more than established enough that she could get away with pretty much anything. You got her caught up to speed and she nodded before tensing and leaping away, asphalt cracking in her wake.

You hurried forward too, lingering near the shimmering glass-like dome until it shattered apart and then you were dashing forward. You could sing if there was no specific heart song to focus on, but those songs tended to have more of a general effect and they were softer and gentler. They were, however, more than enough to soothe and calm the civilians and ease the tension of the newbies.

"No one's left," Rescue muttered. "Fucking villains, they've been getting really damn bold lately."

"Do you know why?" you asked her. Rescue was pretty knowledgeable, there had been a few instances over the years where she had given you pretty damn useful advice.

She frowned. "Not a damn clue." Her phone started to ring and she pulled it out to glance at the screen. With an eye roll she added, "Gotta bail, these adult children need me to hold their hands. Becaus god forbid they just do what I say."

With a quick salute she was gone and you frowned at your surroundings. The villain activity was bothering you quite a bit if you were being honest.

Things always shifted, people grew in power or lost power, but it was an ebbing and swelling that was visible on both sides. There was a strange symbiosis between villains and heroes, a flow of power and control.

Usually, a new arrival made waves on both sides for a bit, a new villain or new hero upsetting the previous balance. It was like integrating a new instrument to an orchestra that hadn't expected any arrivals in the middle of a play and now they had to improvise and adapt quickly on the spot.

But this, this was different. Whatever was going that had villains uniting who usually didn't work with each other, it had them antsy and downright worried.

Only villains were antsy and worried. This upset among the villains was not reflected among the heroes, which meant...

You finished helping with the rescue efforts and went back to R&R, allowing the resident medic to check you over like they always did after a fight. All the while you kept turning things over in your mind.

Vision was a loner, as was Eclipse. Silver occasionally worked with other people, but that was only temporarily and Timeless was an enigma on the best of days. Two of those villains teaming up you could have explained away, but all four of them? And they weren't the only ones.

You went home and booted up your computer to start noting everything down. Aside from today, you had other villains working together who should not have anything to do with each other. Tide and Meteorite had been seen aiding each other and Skull Crusher and Bard had teamed up with Ultimatum, who they had a notorious rivalry with.

Before you knew it, you had nearly twenty villains who had recently been seen either on downright friendly terms or actively helping each other. Picking up your phone you started to make calls, hoping to get a foot in the door before whatever was going on would come crashing down.

There were plenty of villains who actively liked you after you had helped them with your singing. While most people feared your powers deeply – even heroes and plenty of civilians to your great sadness – the ones you had sung to tended to seek you out again.

Healing hurt, but afterwards...well, they were doing better afterwards, taking better care of themselves, seeking out therapists or other aid. You were probably the only hero around who could ask villains to poke into the business of their brethren and report back to you.

Only...for the first time, you got no answers.

You sat awake for hours, searching through the internet and online newspapers. You scrounged through the cesspit of social media, trying to find the red string that eluded you.

*.*.*

"Uh, Cloud? You good?" you heard Sorrel's hesitant voice and you whirled around, energy drink almost sloshing over your fingers. You probably looked half manic, had probably sounded half manic when you had called the twins earlier.

Both his and Areth's heart songs were worried-concerned-confused and you smacked the whiteboard behind you. Oh, your hands were kind of shaky. That was bad. But, no matter, you had finally gotten a lead in this mess!

You made a sort of incoherent but meaningful noise as you gestured at what you had pinned up. The twins liked old-school detective stuff and you had actually found it easier to keep track of things by spreading them out physically, rather than the messy note doc you had opened on your computer.

Areth picked up one of the energy drink cans littered around.

"How many did you have?" she asked and you didn't deign to answer her. It would only worry her. Considering her heart song became exasperated-fond-concerned anyway, that was a moot point, but you didn't have to make it worse. You'd also have to toss out all the cans before she saw the mess that was your kitchen.

You took a sip of your current energy drink and declared, "We are getting royally fucked."

The twins peered at the whiteboard which, alright, it might look kind of nonsensical at first, but you had put up colorful strings to help point things out! And pretty, glittery sticky notes a fan had gifted you!

You vaguely remembered posting a grateful little tweet about those sticky notes a few hours ago, because you appreciated your fans and you wanted them to know that.

Your fans had nearly exploded with the desire to give you more of those. You also vaguely remembered telling them that glittery stuff in general was great.

Your PO box was going to look like a five year old's birthday and you already looked forward to it.

You smacked different parts of the whiteboard, pointing out politicians and company CEOs, newspaper clippings and lastly, the documented unrest among the villains. You were talking fast enough to almost trip over your words as you told them everything you had gathered.

"And that leads me to one conclusion!" you said, the twins staring at you, standing tall and strong before you in all their anti-hero glory. They had always been a lot bigger than you, you only came up to their shoulders and they were quite dangerous and powerful fighters. Though, not dangerous for you.

"Heroes are in on this," you declared with your entire chest. "And the ones that aren't are kept in the dark." You gestured at yourself, the energy drink sloshing noisily in its can. "Like me. Because I'd kick their asses."

"You never kick anyone, little Cloud," Sorrel murmured, exchanging a heavy look with his sister. There was a plethora of micro-expressions as they communicated silently, before they faced you again. "Alright, I think it's time you meet some people."

*.*.*

You had no idea where you were, since Areth had teleported you through three different locations, but you trusted the twins. And maybe, you were still a little too hopped up on sleep deprivation and a number of energy drinks that probably shouldn't go together.

"Did you give them a heads-up?" Sorrel asked quietly and Areth sent him an unimpressed look.

"Oh no, absolutely not," she said dryly. "I was just going to drag our precious Cloud into the lion's den and watch shit hit the fan."

Sorrel rolled his eyes and they shoved each other for a little bit as they led you down a dark and dreary hallway. Couldn't villains have their lair somewhere nicer? More colorful? At least, you assumed you'd be led to a villain lair.

You reached a door made of heavy, thick metal and the twins glanced at each other, then you, offered you a reassuring look and then they pushed the door open. Oh, this was so a lair! How cool, you had never been invited to one despite having villain acquaintances.

"We're here," Areth called out, while she and Sorrel strolled forward and you trailed after them, craning your head to look at everything.

Where the hallway had been nothing but gray concrete, dreary and almost unsettling, the lair itself was bright with light and filled with different work spaces. There were inventions off to one side, minions scurrying about who all froze in their tracks and then you saw them.

The around twenty villains who had been seen working together, each and every one of them in costume and their overlapping heart songs anything but pleasant.

"Do not sing," Meteorite snarled as you opened your mouth to call out a greeting. "In fact, stay right the fuck over there."

You didn't tell him that you were already too close, that this distance was more than enough to work your magic, but you smiled disarmingly and mimed your mouth being zipped shut with jittery hands. Everything about you was still jittery and you felt a little like your bones were vibrating. Or was that your muscles?

"We are only allowing this because we trust the twins," Bard said, sitting on Skull Crusher's massive shoulders, expression intense and grim. "Having a hero here is really damn risky."

"Cloud already figured pretty much everything out," Areth said and you perked up hopefully, while the villains all stilled. The air was heavy with threatening and worried and tense heart songs, a cacophony of alarmed-mistrustful-angry-guarded-wary.

Any other day and this would have given you a migraine. There was a reason why you didn't like crowds much and had to take days off after fan meetings.

"How?" Vision asked, voice incredulous and his heart song intense and battle-ready.

"The internet," Sorrel answered and now everyone stared at you like you were the weirdest, most baffling thing they had ever seen. You smiled disarmingly, still jittery. You probably looked, uh, slightly unhinged.

"What," Timeless said, voice flat and disbelieving and those assessing, sharp eyes fell to you. "Explain."

You barely got to inhale before the entire speech rushed out of you again, complete with big hand motions and you were sure you were giving speed-talking champions a run for their money.

A beat of heavy silence reigned after you finished, the twins still sticking close to you. You had no doubt that they would keep you safe if this somehow turned sour, but it wasn't like you were entirely defenseless either.

With the villains requesting that you keep your distance, you'd get a song started before they could reach you. If you really put your all into it, you could get away unharmed easy-peasy.

You wouldn't like it, using your voice for anything but healing always felt like you were going to throw up at any moment, but you'd do what you had to to stay alive.

Not that anyone knew, you hadn't been forced to use those songs yet, thankfully.

"How could you know that something was off?" Vision asked, his heart song wary-curious-impressed. Oh, the latter was new and...it was quite the nice tone. You focused on it to try and push the other songs into the background.

You wouldn't tell Vision that you could hear his and everyone's emotions around you, to the point where you could tell their intent.

People had never reacted favorably to that, they had always thought that it was creepy and invasive. You couldn't not hear their songs, however, so you just kept your mouth shut.

"When something happens, villains and heroes are always affected," you explained. "But you guys are the only ones who are getting upset." You spread your arms out. "So I looked until I found answers."

"Just like that?" Vision asked, disbelief openly audible in his voice, but his heart song grew a little bright and nicer, even as his guarded wariness remained. It had even gained a quiet, almost hidden note of curious-interested-fascinated.

You nodded and added, "It wasn't too hard in the end."

Considering the way everyone pinned you in place with hard, disbelieving stares, even the masked folk, you got the faint impression that it had, in fact, been quite hard.

"It's only possible to start noticing things if you don't consider heroes infallible," Skull Crusher mused, her voice deep and rumbling. "Did you figure out which ones are in on it?"

"I have speculations," you said and rattled off a list of names. Now all the villains' heart songs sounded impressed-incredulous-thoughtful.

Vision's heart song on the other hand sounded really damn nice now, almost no wariness left, though there was still no trust either.

"You know, it's a good thing you always live with your head in the clouds," Silver mused. "Or you would be a real problem for all of us."

"You already are, to be fair," Tide grouched, speaking up for the first time. "For someone who doesn't fight you are too good at taking us out."

There was a little tickle at the back of your throat, like a song wanted to break out as you honed in on his heart song and you swallowed it down with difficulty. They had asked you not to sing after all. Even if it was hard to keep silent, you had no desire to make anyone feel unsafe around you.

There was a moment of tension, before it seemed like the villains collectively exhaled. "Alright, get over here," Silver said, rubbing a hand over her face. "Let's talk."

The twins clapped you on the shoulders and flanked you as you walked up, Sorrel and Silver briefly nodding curtly at each other, a calm sort of wariness between them. There was no love lost.

"I hope we won't have another fight at our hands," Silver said. "I was not happy with your interference earlier today."

"And we told you our Cloud is off limits," Areth answered, hard and unyielding. "Let bygones be bygones, alright? He bruised you, you cut him, we have bigger fish to fry."

"Indeed," Bard said, accepting Skull Crusher's hand to hop down from their superior perch. "Alright, this is what we know."

*.*.*

It had been just as bad as you had feared. There were preparations put in place across the entire city for something big, skillfully kept from the public and fellow heroes who would have investigated.

The villains around you had only noticed it themselves because they had their fingers in plenty of illegal pies and because they knew quite well who in this city was corrupt and who wasn't.

"We still don't know exactly why all these things are being put in motion," Vision mused as you looked at the evidence they revealed to you. "Money has been shifted around to people who should not get more power and they are very eager to comply."

It had taken you hours and some pulled strings to find those things out as well and only your inherent mistrust of those in power had ensured you looked where most did not think to look.

At first glance, things hadn't looked so bad, there were countless of business deals after all, but your punk parents had raised you well, had made you wary of anyone too rich, so you had kept digging deeper.

"And then there is this." Timeless tossed down pictures of the heroes you had identified as corrupt. "They are in the know, we are sure of that."

"Usually us villains are at least somewhat involved if something big is being planned," Bard added. "We don't like it if we're not getting invited to parties, after all. But this is...it's almost impossible to get any information out of the people we know have been paid to look the other way."

"Took us forever to gather this much," Silver muttered with a little frown-glare at you. She did not like that you had gotten done what they had struggled with so much.

You wisely kept your mouth shut about what your powers could do. Or how many connections you had, how many people felt grateful and indebted to you because you had helped them heal.

"But you might be just what we need," Vision spoke up, surprising you as he tipped his blank mask in your direction. "There is something these heroes know and we're running out of time. There is a big election coming up in a couple of weeks and if we don't stop whatever is going to happen before that, it will be too late."

"I do have an in with heroes," you muttered, studying the pictures on the table. "I can get into the big hero offices without trouble."

Many of the corrupt heroes were very publicly active heroes, very loved heroes – with ugly heart songs. You had met most of them and they carried melodies like starving dogs. Always hungry for more, never satisfied with what they had.

What was worse, they had no pure kind of ambition. The sort that spurred them to work harder and strive for the stars.

No, their ambition was ruthless and careless, they would step on as many necks as possible to get where they wanted to be.

You looked up, noticing that there was a sudden hush around the big table. "What?"

"You trust us and our word? Just like that? You don't think we want to use this to gain more power?" Vision asked, voice hard, but his heart song had suddenly soared a bit, it was curious-interested-hopeful. He sounded like he wanted to get to know you better, a quiet...yearning, of a sort.

You knew better than to tell him and the others that you could hear their hearts, their emotions. That it was impossible to lie to you.

"From what I understand, someone is pulling the strings and they are planning something terrible," you answered, serious and solemn and truthful.

You just needed to meet that person. You'd only have to cross paths with them and then you'd know. Hearts couldn't hide or lie. Hearts were always honest.

It must be someone already powerful, a politician, a company CEO or perhaps even a hero. A maskless villain who had learned to hide in plain sight, planning patiently.

This was...this was big, all these quiet and secret changes that had taken place would culminate in something that shouldn't happen.

"The mayor's election is up in a couple of weeks, we already suspect whatever is goign to happen will happen then," you murmured. "I looked at what events the city has been planning and what the hero offices are planning. Do you have a map?"

A map was quickly acquired and you noted down all the events taking place during the day of the mayor's election. There was the big gathering in the main plaza in front of the city hall, there were fan greetings with almost all the corrupt heroes in surrounding buildings and a big, long anticipated restaurant was going to open that exact day around the corner.

Parades were planned and a big firework display was promised later, along with free drinks and food. No election had ever been this nice to its citizens and no election had ever been accompanied with so many events.

You drew the routes of the parades and each and every one of them led people past the plaza.

"They're gathering the citizens for something," Silver said grimly. "How many do you think will be there?"

"Most people," Vision murmured. "And, here." He set down his phone, scrolling to reveal how many big sales the surrounding shops offered on election day. Ridiculously low prices for expensive things.

"This reeks of someone planning to use their powers," Bard said, their lips pressed together unhappily. "What do you think, mind control?"

"The only super capable of affecting so many people lives on an island because she's sick and tired of society," Skull Crusher answered with a shake of her head. "And the power to control or affect that many people? That's rare."

"Unless there are artificial ways to enhance powers," Areth said. "We know a couple of mechanics and inventors, we'll chat them up and ask them if they heard any rumors."

"As will we," Tide agreed, glancing at you. "And you, uh..."

"Just call me Cloud," you said with a smile. "You leave the heroes to me."

"Can't believe us villains have to save the day," Timeless sighed. "That's what heroes are for, usually."

"Well, at least we have one hero to help us out," Vision mused, that blank metal mask tipping in your direction as he addressed you. "I know someone who can help you, a reporter who's been aiding us a lot and he's pretty good at hacking, would you mind taking him along?"

His heart song was a quiet calm melody of lying-hiding-hopeful. It wasn't hard to figure out what exactly he was lying about, his song gently rising above the others.

"Of course," you said with a smile. "Can he meet me later today?"

"I'll give him a call," Vision said with a nod, then pointed at you. "Just answer me this, have you slept at all?"

You smiled brightly. "I am full of energy, don't you worry."

Twin hands gripped your shoulders and you heard Sorrel say, "She'll sleep, don't worry. Come on, you manic genius."

With those words Areth teleported you away and the moment they had shoved you into bed, you were out like a light.

*.*.*

The journalist was indeed Vision out of costume. His heart song was anticipatory-determined-interested as he spotted you when you met him towards the evening.

You felt like death warmed over, the power nap the twins had wrestled you down for leaving you feeling like you had tried to chew cotton and your face felt kind of swollen and your limbs heavy.

You probably made quite the miserable picture and still you were surprised to hear the shift in his song as it became concerned-determined-anticipatory.

"Vision told me about you, I'm Silas," he said and you couldn't help but think that he was quite the pretty man. With an intense gaze and earrings that framed his face perfectly. He even moved like Vision did, with quiet steps and an unshakable certainty of his path forward.

You wondered how many versions of this meeting he had gone through with his powers or what exactly he was capable of. Like your powers, like Sorrel's, he had made sure that no one quite knew how far he could stretch his visions into the future. What he could do with time itself if push came to shove.

"It's nice to meet you," you said with a genuine smile. If he wasn't telling you who he was, that was just fine with you, he could keep his secrets just like you kept yours. "Shall we?"

"What's the plan?" Silas asked as he fell in step beside you, his heart song thrumming with anticipation-curiosity-focus. Now that you were right beside him and outside of battle, you realized that his heart song was just as nice to listen to as the twins'.

"We'll start with Angel and their agency," you said. "They extended an invitation to me just last week to drop by for coffee and a chat. They most likely want to see if they can poach me."

You knew the grin you offered him wasn't a hero's smile, not one of the sweet, reassuring ones you pasted onto your face when you were in costume. It was a real and genuine grin with all the dagger-sharp danger of someone who was a protector.

Someone who had been raised by parents who believed in challenging every system, who had raised you to think for yourself. You loved people for all their faults. You especially loved them when their heart songs were guiding them towards happier and more content lives.

You had pledged yourself to be a protector and if you had learned one thing during your career as a hero, it was that in every protector lurked a predator. A threat that rose the moment someone under their care got hurt.

You were soft and gentle because that was who you wanted to be, because hurting others was the worst song in the world, but you knew the danger that lurked within yourself.

The songs that lurked within you, and while you wouldn't use them unless you absolutely had to, you knew that you would. It might destroy the part of you that still felt innocent even after all these years, but you would do it.

So your smile was a little sharp, a little wicked and a little challenging as you asked, "Think you can play my agent, Mister Silas?"

Silas' heart song became a sweet and excited fascinated-interested-curious and he smiled back, a bit of villain shining through as his lips revealed a hint of teeth, his gaze sharp and cunning. "Most certainly. Is there anything I should know beforehand?"

You briefed him on everything he needed to know about Angel and their agency and by the time you were done, you had reached the big building painted with rising angels and the glory of a rising sun. There was a shitton of religious imaginary that you were not going to unpack, especially considering the corruption within.

"I will be humming," you told Silas quietly and he glanced at you. "Don't tell anyone, but humming has a weak effect on those around me. It will make Angel and others more talkative, are you comfortable with watching yourself and what you say more than you usually have to?"

He snorted. "I am not so weak as all that." He really wasn't, his heart song was strong and fierce and certain. Unshakable but not rigid and unyielding. It was fascinating. "Sing all you want, I will not fall under your spell."

And just like that, Silas had quickly and unexpectedly become one of your favorite people. Someone who, from the sound of his heart song, actually and genuinely didn't worry about your songs. He had been wary, yes, but never afraid.

He knew himself, you realized. He knew his emotions and his own mind and he was working on taking care of himself. You weren't needed, but...it sounded like he still wanted to get to know you anyway.

What a novel thing it would be, to not be needed but wanted.

You pasted on your sweetest, most unassuming smile, your fakest smile, the one you showed to everyone whose heart songs were rotten.

You pulled the front door open, starting a low, gentle hum that would set people at ease, would make them feel safe and comfortable and trusting around you.

*.*.*

It felt like you were dancing on wires, using your hummed songs so very gently and carefully, your questions peppered just as cautiously while you spoke with Angel. Angel whose heart song was a growling, dark melody of greed-envy-manipulation.

It was almost as bad as the sounds peoples hearts made when you hurt them. But only almost.

By the time Silas and you left, you wanted to curl up somewhere nice and quiet and fall asleep again, this time for longer.

"That was...a thing," Silas mused, sounding dry and sarcastic, his heart song a slow, unenthusiastic melody of unimpressed-underwhelmed-tired. "At least we got what we came for."

It had been a tiny slip-up from Angel, but it had been enough with the information Silas and you had. Angel had immediately looked annoyed when, after an hour of your coaxing and gentle, careful humming, they had revealed something they very much hadn't meant to.

They had expressed an annoyance of holding a fan event at the very edge of the plaza, but Iridescent had decided where everyone's meet and greet would take place.

Iridescent was a hero you had met only in passing and she was an unpleasant woman. Not because of how she behaved, she was always polite, always friendly, but those manners were nothing but fake.

You yawned and shook out your limbs. "I'll have to look into getting us an in with Iridescent, but I'm sure R&R can help me with that."

Silas made an agreeing noise. "You'll keep me involved, Singer?"

"Of course," you said. "And please, call me Cloud, that's what my friends do. I only chose that hero name because it was one of the few still available that fit my powers and weren't already snatched up by other heroes."

The copyright market was a veritable nightmare when it came to heroes who wanted to establish themselves.

"Are we friends now?" Silas asked with a raised brow, looking cool and collected, but his heart song had immediately changed to curious-interested-hopeful upon hearing your words.

You hadn't made villain friends before, at least, not in the same way that Sorrel and Areth were your friends. But...you liked him. You liked his heart song and you found yourself increasingly more curious about and interested in him.

"Why don't we give it a try?" you answered with a little grin and he smiled back, genuine and amused. You fished your phone out of your pocket. "Let's exchange numbers and arrange playdates, shall we?"

He laughed at that, mirth-fond-warmth, turning his heart song into a bright and light melody that you wanted to surround yourself with at all times. "Why did I ever think you were just a two-goody-shoes airhead?"

Now you had to laugh. "Oh, I am an airhead, believe me. There is a reason why my friends call me Cloud, but R&R firmly told me to not ever tell jokes on live television or to someone with a camera."

"They're that bad, huh?" he asked, still smiling as he saved your number and you felt ridiculously delighted at the little cloud emoji he used instead of a name.

"Worse," you agreed happily. "I'll call you later, alright?"

"Later, Cloud," he answered and you focused on his heart song, on the sweet, spring-light melody of fondness-mirth-interest for as long as you could as you walked away.

*.*.*

You met up with Silas numerous times more as the two of you hunted for clues among the heroes, the rest of the villains gathering information among the corrupt politicians and companies.

What had started out as a curious partnership quickly grew to become an ever evolving friendship. You genuinely enjoyed Silas' company and considering his often delighted heart song, so did he.

You managed to make him laugh and he looked utterly horrified the first time you told him a joke of yours, immediately agreeing that you were never allowed to repeat it in front of a camera, ever.

"You'll be the joke of the internet, a meme in the making!" he had groaned. "Come on, let me tell you an actually good joke."

You liked him and with every day that the two of you met up, discussing things, approaching heroes with Silas as your agent and R&R playing along after you asked them to, you liked him more.

There was warmth and fondness and joy when you saw him. This curious villain who served himself but also, to your pleasant surprise, other people. He brought ruin whenever he put on the mask, but as you looked at things, you realized that he was like a wildfire.

He burnt things to the ground so other things could grow instead. And, well, some seeds needed fire and heat to come alive.

You'd never agree with him on everything, some days not even most things, but even then there was respect whenever he talked to you. It was fun to discuss your different moral viewpoints while knowing that you agreed on all the important things.

It was...good, to have him at your side. To have someone who was willing to do what it took to get answers, someone who didn't fear your songs.

Someone who trusted you.

Today he sat in your apartment, pinning up a new piece of evidence on your messy whiteboard. His heart song was content-caring-trusting and yet there was also something sweet tingeing it all. Something growing and developing and you wondered what he'd sound like as soon as those feelings finished growing.

"What is that look for?" Silas asked when he glanced at you.

"I've been lonely a lot," you found yourself saying and he blinked, briefly surprised, before he grew more serious, his heart song gentle and encouraging. "People didn't really...get me, you know? The twins like me and I love them, but..."

You offered a slightly abashed smile. "You feel like you get me, you know?"

Like he, too, knew what it meant to have powers that gave him a perspective of the world no one else had. Like he, too, had struggled with fitting in and had ultimately trashed the very idea of sanding down his edges and bending his spine to fit into the box other people wanted him to fit into.

He was unapologetic about himself, just like you were about yourself. You didn't care when other heroes or even civilians complained that you were too soft on villains. That they wished you'd give them what they deserved.

There was enough hurt in the world, you heard it after all. You just wanted to try and make the world better, which was why you would stick with R&R until your dying day.

Silas' gaze told you that he understood, a gentle, almost melancholic tinge to his song.

"I know what you mean," he murmured, looking away though you still caught a glimpse of a truly heart-wrenchingly sweet smile. "You feel like...home, as weird as it sounds."

"No, no, that doesn't sound weird at all. It sounds right." It sounded so fitting.

He smiled at you, his heart song nothing but delighted-loving-warm. "Come on, help me solve this riddle before we're out of time."

You got to your feet to join him by the board, your shoulders brushing against his. "Can't figure it out on your own, huh?"

"Dream on, Cloudy," he said with a grin.

It was a fun evening, despite the serious topic. Everything these past weeks had been fun despite the looming deadline. Maybe it was because you were a hero and you thrived in tense, high-stress situations, but every moment you spent with him you felt parts of you come alive that had grown quiet and small over the years.

It was indeed like finding home in someone else. He saw you and he had decided that he liked what he saw.

It was only after you sent him home and cleaned up the dinner you had shared with him, humming and singing a song you had never sung before, that you realized it.

That you had fallen in love. That Silas, that Vision, had done what no one else had ever managed to do. He had found your heart and instead of holding it tightly in his hands, it felt like he was ever raising it up to the sun.

Telling it, telling you, to take flight. To demand more of the world. To demand better. To take a bit of a villain's hunger, a villain' ruthlessness, a villain's loud disruptiveness to demand the change you wanted to see.

You had no idea what to do, but you couldn't help but grin and dance and sing. Sing for yourself instead of other people. Sing because you were genuinely, truly happy.

*.*.*

"The election is tomorrow," Silas muttered, pacing up and down. "And we still haven't found out what exactly they intend to do. We're running out of time, Cloud. What are we missing?"

You stared at the whiteboard with intense focus. What, indeed, were you missing? Everyone was getting ever more tense and nervous and the villains had already discussed busting the gathering tomorrow if nothing else could be discovered.

Forcing the city to push their plans back was preferable to just letting things happen.

You wanted to avoid that, however, because you knew the heroes that would be present to both hold meet and greets and guard the event. They were all known for being harsh with villains, ruthless and brutal. It would be a bloodbath -

Wait.

You made a noise, hand patting a rhythm against Silas' arm, which he somehow understood as you raced for your phone. He was just...amazing like that. He got you. Weird noises and absent moments and strangeness and all.

You rang up R&R while Silas followed you, eyes bright and intense, heart song thrumming with anticipation-restlessness-relief. It was the relief in his melody that almost made you trip up. Because he trusted you to find the answer even before you had managed to do so.

He believed in you, fully and whole-heartedly.

It took an hour until you had gathered the information you needed.

"These hero offices were cut out of the event tomorrow. In fact, the reveal of the election is planned for when the patrol routes take as many of those heroes as far as possible from the plaza," you said, flipping the board around to scrawl across it. "And those heroes won't think twice about that, considering how many other heroes will already be there."

Silas took the pen with a wry little smile, only for you to snatch it back when you realized his handwriting was even worse than yours.

"What does that tell us?" Silas asked. "They're not part of the plan?"

"Yes, and!" You scrawled one more hero agency at the very bottom, circling it. "It tells us which hero got ignored entirely. He isn't hosting meet and greets, he isn't guarding and he isn't patrolling."

Silas caught on immediately, eyes widening and a grin spread over his face, wild and excited. "Because this is the hero behind everything. He can't guard the plaza if he's the one who's going to execute the plan."

You whirled to face Silas fully, finding him only inches away from you and you grinned. "We found him."

Silas laughed and a moment later you were pulled into a fierce hug, his heart song an exhilarating rush of awed-adoring-ecstatic. You were pulled off your feet to be twirled around and you laughed, clutching him back just as tightly, a song spilling past your lips and he suddenly thrummed with energy.

"Oh, wow, I had no idea you can do that," he said as he still held onto you. You just grinned and finished the song, every fiber of your and his being feeling fully and completely alive.

"What do we do now?" he asked, gently setting you down on your feet again. "Should we attack the office?"

You tapped your fingers on his arms, only half aware of the fact that his hands were resting on your waist as you thought. Hero offices were well guarded and they had multiple ways to call for help in case of an attack.

Besides, there was a reason this particular hero was the number one of the city and the number three worldwide. You still needed to find out what the plan was here.

You focused on Silas as an idea took shape. "Let's call the others and get everything we need. We ride at dawn."

He laughed, heart song a bright, bright adoration-loving-awed and you realized, startled and breathless and elated, that he, too had fallen in love with you.

You wished you could kiss him, you wished there wasn't something more important to take care of beforehand first.

But later, later you'd tell him, you decided as you committed his joy to memory, as the sound of his love took your breath away and made you feel like your entire being could barely contain the joy you felt.

You'd save the city tomorrow and then, for once, both villains and heroes would have a happy ending.

*.*.*

Your heart was beating fast and strong as Sorrel and Areth stretched, Vision standing beside you in all his villainous glory. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

"Ready, Cloud?" Areth asked, holding out her hand, Sorrel slipping into her shadow.

You could already hear the noise of the plaza a block over. The streets were downright stuffed with people, it really looked like almost the entire city had gathered, drawn in for different reasons.

Free food, their favorite heroes, a massive sale of multiple companies, a long anticipated restaurant opening, parades and the mayor's election. It was almost ridiculous how well it all worked.

You wished you could have informed some of the other heroes, but you hadn't dared to risk it in the end. Still, in case shit really hit the fan, the twins had Rescue's number and the woman was formidable and well respected for a reason. She could rally everyone else so long as someone told her what was going on.

You gripped Areth's hand and Vision did the same when she extended the other to him and there was a brief moment of complete and utter silence, before you popped out on the other side. The utility closet was a cramped little space and Sorrel unlocked the door from the outside, having slipped through the shadows.

You knew the route well from here after Silver had broken into the city library to steal archived blueprints of old buildings. Namely, the city hall. You knew where you had to go to find your way to the backrooms where everything was getting prepared for the big reveal of the election.

This was the riskiest part of the plan, since you had no idea what dangers lurked along the way and it was exactly why you needed the twins and Vision. Their powers could get you close enough to the one hero who had avoided you like the plague all these years: Starlight.

A shining beacon of a hero, beloved by the masses, always gentle and kind to civilians, righteously defending the downtrodden and he was lauded for his gracious manners even when he dealt with villains.

And if you were right, he had something horrible planned.

Like you had feared, the city hall was filled with patrolling sidekicks from Starlight's agency. After sending a last, confirming message, the rest of the villains already in place, you nodded and Vision fell silent, his heart song flickering through many quickly changing tunes.

He guided the twins, who popped away, silently taking down the first two sidekicks. One by one, your group worked its way towards your destination, moving quickly in a way that was only possible with two different kinds of teleportation powers and a man who could see the future.

"Starlight can counter me," Vision had warned you when you met him after sending Silas home, knowing very well that you'd see him at the lair.

He still hadn't told you about his identity and you had caught enough glimpses of worry-shame-fear to know that he thought you wouldn't take those news well. That you'd feel betrayed.

You'd tell him your secrets too, you had decided. When he revealed the truth about himself, you would do the same about your powers.

It was only fair, if he was brave to do the thing he feared, then you'd do the same.

"I thought someone was going to cause trouble." The ethereal voice made everyone stop in their tracks, Sorrel disappearing into the shadows with a snap and Areth and Vision taking up position beside you. They knew you didn't want to fight, after all.

They knew you needed to be uninterrupted if you wanted to sing.

"But color me surprised," Starlight continued and then you saw the shimmer of his existence, something incorporeal, like he was a distant, silver-golden starscape taking shape. Slowly becoming flesh. "I hadn't thought the softest hero in the world would ever team up with villains."

"You can't stop us," Areth said, but Starlight was ignoring her, which immediately made all your internal alarms blare. No one ignored Areth. She was too dangerous for that and even Starlight couldn't afford to take enemies lightly. For all his power he wasn't invincible.

You managed to grab her arm just in time and you realized that Vision stood very still at your side, his heart song snapping to a sudden panic-horrified-terrified. It was a jarring noise, like string instruments playing a discordant, high-pitched noise that grated on your very existence.

Your heart immediately leapt into your throat – whatever version of the future he had seen, it immediately had left him desolate. Scared. His hand reaching out to grip the back of your outfit.

"You're too late," Starlight said with a smile as he shook off the rest of his powers, stardust raining down like glitter to vanish into nothing before it could touch the floor. "I've put too much into this to fail at the last second."

Now that he was here, fully corporeal, you heard his heart song. It was overwhelming, a loud and fierce and bellowing hunger-victorious-domination.

For just a brief second, you felt like a farmer staring up at an armored and armed knight riding towards you on his massive war horse, blade glinting in the sun.

You felt like you stared up at death.

"I have become the end and beginning of all," Starlight said, his heart song clamping around you like a great beast's teeth, stealing your breath away. "And you will bow."

He raised a hand when a massive explosion rocked the building. Screams rose from outside as more and more detonations took place. His head jerked up, surprise visible on his face and that was all you needed to cling to a shred of hope, that there was still something that could be done.

There had to be, no matter what Vision had seen. His powers weren't perfect and if Starlight could be surprised, there must be something you could still do.

"Areth!" you shouted and your friend popped away with you and Vision just as Starlight lunged, the power of the universe at his fingertips – too much power. Far too much.

You knew what he was capable of in theory, you knew that all powers had limits and prices, that there were abilities that only revealed themselves in the face of death and could rarely be used outside of such dire circumstances again.

His powers had felt unchained. Like something had been broken and cracked wide open.

"What do we do?" Areth shouted as soon as she popped everyone into existence again down the hall, the three of you bolting. "Sorrel?"

Her brother didn't answer and she hissed a curse, following you as you led them down the stairs, your mind racing.

Starlight didn't actually want a fight, that defeated the purpose of bowing. That defeated the purpose of him becoming the god of everything.

For that was what he wanted, what his heart song had tried to carve into your very flesh, forcing you to listen, forcing you to bend and kneel. To accept his reality as your own -

Reality.

You jerked to a stop, eyes wide as you turned to Vision, his heart song terrified-horrified-hopeless.

"Go," you told Areth. "Help distract the other heroes, we need all the time we can get."

"Don't die, either of you," Areth hissed viciously, Sorrel finally appearing out of a shadowed corner, only to get snatched up by her as they vanished the next second.

"There has to be something we can do." Your voice came out as a whisper and you reached out to grip Vision, who clung to you like you were an anchor in a storm. "Vision, focus – Silas!"

He jerked, his heart song changing to shocked-surprised-startled. But he was focusing now, no longer lost in the throes of whatever he had seen.

"I know, I always knew." You reached out to grip the sides of his face, palms clasping cold metal and the walls around you started to shimmer silver-golden. "Silas, tell me what you saw."

"The end of everything," he whispered, voice trembling in a way you had never heard. "He's going to destroy the world. His powers aren't supposed to touch reality, but he will try anyway and the world, the universe will fight back. That's why he gathered all these people. The more minds accept his reality over fucking reality itself, the more it will give in to him."

Because the universe represented what was true and real and if he became the new truth...then that was what would happen. And no one could fight back.

"He's going to do it now," Vision whispered. "I saw it. Nothing we do can change that. We're already too late."

"How did he get that strong, can you look?" you asked and you felt him focus, felt his emotions flicker, only for something grim and resigned to settle over him.

"Nothing we can undo. He –" Vision's grip on your arms tightened. "He ruined himself for this. Cracked himself with his own powers until he could destroy all of his limits. He can only use his powers like this once, he needs to realign reality or it will kill him."

You knew that people could lose their physical limits with the help of adrenaline, breaking bones and tearing tendons and muscle in an exchange for unreal feats of strength.

You had never thought about what someone with superpowers could do if they removed any and all limitations of their powers.

"He's starting," Vision whispered. "It doesn't matter that we got away. We're too late. There are too many people here."

The ground beneath you started to shimmer and you could taste Starlight's powers in the air. You could sense him now, could sense as he walked to the front of the building, as he jumped outside to call out to the masses.

You could sense as everyone stopped running and panicking, all eyes focusing on him. His power grew thicker and more cloying in the air and you had precious seconds left, the building around you threatening to get swallowed whole and you with it.

You were not going to survive this attempt to change reality.

Until Vision gasped, gripping you tightly and suddenly you felt yourself get dragged with him, like you got jerked forward then back again and time stilled and stopped around you.

He was breathing hard, terror and panic bright in his heart song until he realized how still everything had gotten.

"Your powers," you murmured, eyes wide. "They're trying to save you."

"Us," Vision whispered back, fingers tightening on yours further. "Don't let go, Cloud." He lifted his head, looking around and you wished you could see his eyes at least one last time. "Can you hear that?"

You couldn't, but when he pulled you onward you followed. It felt a little like you weighed nothing, like the air had turned to water and you were drifting along with every step. Was this how he experienced visions?

Were your bodies going to stay behind or did you move through this version of time?

Vision lead you out of the city hall to where Starlight stood in all his glory, skin glowing and filled with stars and people staring up at him in awe.

You could see the cracks all over him, as though he was going to shatter like porcelain and if he did, he'd destroy so much. He'd kill so many. He had to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. His heart was too dark.

And then you heard it and now you were the one dragging Vision forward until you stood right by Starlight, eyes wide as you saw the song that slowly started to circle around him.

Your own powers had gone haywire you realized. Your own powers had, for this moment, torn down barriers that normally would have been there.

You had no idea if Vision's and your powers had somehow clicked together to make this happen, or if they still worked independent. Merging powers wasn't impossible, especially elemental powers could easily work together, but this...this felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.

You listened to the song and tears started to gather in your eyes.

"Cloud?" Vision asked and when you tore your gaze away to look at him, you saw that he had yanked off his helmet. "Can you fix it?"

Your smile was wobbly and your heart broke, cracking open like a raw egg and oozing all over your insides. There was nothing but resigned pain. "I can."

His grip tightened. "What's the price?"

Because everything had a price. Starlight's unhinged powers demanded his life – unless he changed the universe itself and demanded it to keep him whole.

You had no idea what price Vision was currently paying, but looking at how he was slowly starting to tremble all over, you could guess that it was going to drain him to death if he didn't let go soon.

"Memories," you answered, a sudden grief gripping you. "Starlight will have to forget everything, it's the only way to stop him." Or he'd try the same thing over and over and over until he was dead.

Vision's no, this was Silas before you now. Silas' gaze searched yours. "And we?"

You knew the nature of songs. You knew what every melody meant, where it came from, what motivated it and how intensely it was felt. You closed your eyes for a moment, willing the tears to not fall.

"We cannot remember the song, we cannot remember this moment. We're cannot remember what Starlight is capable of and what he's doing." You took a ragged breath. "We'll forget each other."

You had to. Vision had to forget how he came to this place, what his powers were capable of and you had to forget a song like the one before you existed. Everything had to be erased, from the very beginning of his plans, to ensure Starlight would never do this again.

"What if I run?" he asked. "If I don't hear it -" He stared at Starlight, at the powers on the cusp of being unleashed in all their terrible, world shattering glory.

There was no running. He'd hear the song and it would erase everything. Everything that had led to this moment in time, everything about Starlight and his plans had to disappear so what he intended to do could never be reenacted again. By no one.

Had you known each other before this mess, enough memories would have remained, but...you hadn't. Starlight had brought you together, as little as you had known it at the time.

And everything needed to be erased so everything could be saved. Not even an inkling of Starlight's machinations could remain. This song was going to erase everything.

"No, I won't forget you. I refuse to." Silas' grip on your hand was almost painfully tight as he tossed his helmet aside and it disappeared, vanishing as it left the timeless space you were stuck in. For now. He was quickly losing strength. "There is so much I have to tell you, I wanted to tell you -"

"I love you." The words escaped you unbidden and he closed his eyes, his heart song nearly making you cry. Your own tears made your voice wobble, "You have the best heart song I ever heard, did you know that?"

"I never believed in soulmates until I met you," he answered. "I never thought there could possibly ever be someone who would become this important to me. Who felt like I was destined to meet them."

Maybe you had been. Maybe there had been a grand design in the universe itself so the two of you met, so you both could be right here at this exact moment, stopping the destruction of everything. Some things should remain untouched no matter what.

You heard soft little cracks all around you as the timeless bubble started to weaken, chunks breaking away.

"I love you," Silas whispered, pulling you close to press his forehead to yours. "I promise I will find you again, no matter what. I'll find you and I will always love you."

You smiled and kissed his cheek before your lips found each other. The kiss tasted of salt. "And I will find you," you whispered just as time shattered and you inhaled.

The song flowed like none other had from your lungs, your eyes squeezed shut. You vaguely heard Vision curse and throw himself forward, intercepting Starlight as he tried to lunge for you, a deeply wounded noise coming from the hero, an almost animalistic screech.

You sang and slowly, everything grew quiet and still. The last thing you were aware of was someone getting thrown across the plaza by a tall, powerful man and your memories disappearing like dust in the wind.

When the last sound vanished, you stood still, the world around you silent in a way it shouldn't be.

Slowly, noise filtered back, people shifting, confusion-bafflement-calm filling the air around you. You blinked your eyes open, blinking in surprise when you noticed that you stood on the front steps of the city hall.

What were you doing here? And why was Starlight on his knees beside you, looking like he had lost everything and didn't know why he felt that way?

His heart song was unpleasant but muddled. A helmet laid near you, blank and black and metallic, reminding you of something the villain Vision might have worn.

Something tickled your jaw and you reached up to wipe at it, pulling back your fingers to look at clear liquid.

Why were you crying?

*.*.*

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@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @aprilraine @warriorofbooks @pigeonwhumps @laureleikirsch @sillypeachduck @dracanea @fractalabomination @basilikum7 @labelleizzy @tikatu

#my writing #short story #long short story #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero x villain #how do I tag this mess #I hope this turned out alright #i am a bit nervous about this story #let me know if there are any warnings I overlooked and forgot to mention

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isa-beenme · 9 months

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Hello!! Do you think you could right a sort of enemies to lovers relationship with Azriel? Maybe where he and the reader get into a heated argument, and the bond snaps when the tension hits its peak? If this doesn’t inspire you, please don’t feel as though you have to accept my request! This is my first attempt at making a request, so I apologize if I did it incorrectly. Also, I wanted to note that your writing style is one of my favorites, and I hope you are proud of your work! That’s all, thank you for your time!!

THE SOOOOOOOOOONG

Listen to it please thank you

Loved your request, darling, it's actually much better when you send the whole story, I usually struggle when I try to think of a whole story alone (I swear I'm creative but it's hard to get things in your head out of nothing)

I try to be proud of my work as much as I can, thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

THIS WORK was sooooooo fun to do, I swear at some moment while I was writing this I laughed at my own story, super cool

I thought: "I'm gonna make this super serious" amd ended up with this, which is much better

This Is Love

Your family always meant everything to you. Being Rhysand's cousin meant you would be inserted in everything he did. Being his second in command meant you would be involved in every plan. And being all of that meant you would be part of his Inner Circle, which automatically involved you in everything they did together. From training, to family dinner and trips around the Courts for the meetings, you did all together. And you loved it. Again, your family meant everything to you, and spending time with them was on your top list of favorite things to do. I mean, when a certain Shadowsinger wasn't completely involved.

Working with Azriel was always fine, perfectly fine, actually. Rhysand often paired you up together to work because everything fell into place with the two of you. Your mind always seemed to think like one. But that teamwork only made itself present when the topic was your position towards the court and your job. Outside that, you both were a mess. Training with him was a dread, from him pinpointing each - non-existent - mistake, to you lashing yourself on him each time he made you angry, it's been more than 250 years of both of you trying to win one another in the training. It never happened.

Family dinner was also horrible since both of you had very different visions in every single topic someone started, not just that, somehow, no matter how many times you and Azriel changed seats with someone, it doesn't take a week until you find yourselves seated next to each other again. On top of that, you and he possess the ability to winnow, yet, Rhysand always thought it was necessary for you to winnow together. No matter how many times you said it wasn't necessary, Rhys only ignored you, the necessity of traveling with him making you hate your life just a little bit more.

But if spending time with your family was on your top favorite things to do, game night with Azriel was on your top things to make yourself miserable. It was a common scene for the rest of the Inner Circle to see you and him screaming at each other at some point. Sometimes one of you thought the other was cheating. Sometimes you started saying the other was winning too many times and should be taken out of the game. Sometimes it was the complete opposite, "if you lose so much, maybe you should step back and stop occupying space". Tonight it wasn't different, your favorite fight was ready to start as Azriel explained the rules to the new game.

Besides the usual crackling tension between you and Azriel, this night seemed to be at its worst peak. For weeks now, both of you seemed to be on the edge with one another, even in work, your usual camaraderie was replaced with sharp remarks and piercing glares. Everyone around the table exchanged puzzled looks, uncertain of what exactly had caused this escalating feud.

Azriel couldn't understand why every word from you grated on his nerves, nor could you fathom why Azriel's mere presence felt suffocating. The build-up of unresolved emotions and unspoken desires had been simmering for days, and now, it was about to reach its boiling point.

The Night Court's game night had started off innocently enough with your usual truth or drink game, something to light up tension (or build it, in your and Azriel's case), but as the evening wore on, the tension between you and Azriel became palpable as the Shadowsinger tried to introduce a new idea to the table. It began with a harmless disagreement over the rules of a card game, but it quickly escalated into a heated argument once the match started.

Azriel's patience was wearing thin as you challenged every decision he made during the game, the cards he dropped and the ones he chose, everything seemed horrible in your eyes. The other way around too, your matches weren't valid, you couldn't pick certain cards and no, it wasn't your turn yet. His usually calm demeanor was now strained, and he couldn't help but feel irritated by your persistent need to question him.

-I don't understand why you always have to question everything I do - Azriel snapped at some point, his shadows flickering around him as a testament to his growing frustration.

-Maybe if you didn't act like you knew everything, I wouldn't have to. "Boo, I'm Azriel and I don't let people play the game because I invented it and none of you understand how to play it" - You quickly shot back, their voice laced with sarcasm

The room fell silent, and your friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the mounting tension between the two of you. But there was no going back now; the floodgates had opened, and all the pent-up emotions were rushing to the surface.

-I don't act like I know everything, and I don't talk like that - Azriel retorted, his voice tight with anger - I just wish you'd stop acting like you have all the answers! Sometimes it is okay to listen to help because, guess what? I indeed invented the game and there's no way of you learning how to play it, if you don't listen to the rules!

-Well, forgive me for not blindly following you like everyone else. I'm not afraid to question things when they don't make sense! - Your eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as you shot back.

-And I'm not afraid to take action instead of endlessly debating every damn decision! - Azriel's temper flared, his wings twitching in agitation.

-I think what you're really good at is fucking my life! - Your family gasped at your words, shocked by the intensity.

-It's just a payback for every headache you give me every time you breathe near me - They quickly turned their heads to Azriel, equally shocked by his response.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed as if you were both about to explode. Your family exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to intervene in the escalating argument. But just as the situation reached its breaking point, a strange shift occurred. As Azriel locked eyes with you, an unexpected intensity replaced your anger. It was as if the universe itself had decided to step in, forcing you to confront the undeniable truth.

The room seemed to blur around you as you stood there, chests heaving from the heated exchange. The fight had reached its peak, and in that very moment, the mating bond snapped into place. The sudden connection was overwhelming, a rush of emotions and sensations that neither of you could comprehend. Your anger dissolved into confusion and shock as you felt an unexplainable pull towards each other.

Azriel's wings, once tense and defensive, now softened, as if beckoning every step you unknowingly took closer. Your guard came down as well, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your friends watched in astonishment as two adversaries stood there, seemingly lost in a world of their own. The room is filled with a charged silence, the kind that accompanies a revelation that changes everything. Even if none of them knew exactly what revelation was going on at that moment.

But as the realization set in, Rhysand and Feyre exchanged knowing smiles. It was no secret for them that you and Azriel had an underlying connection, a bond waiting to be acknowledged. They had witnessed the chemistry and unspoken feelings simmering between the two of you, and now, it seemed the universe had decided to intervene.

Your eyes met Azriel's once again, and this time, there was no irritation or hostility. Instead, there was an undeniable spark of understanding and attraction, a recognition of the emotions that you had been hiding from each other. Neither of you spoke a word, yet you communicated on a deeper level, the mating bond solidifying your connection at each passing second. It was as if all the walls you had built around your heart came crashing down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to him.

As the reality of the mating bond settled in, your heart raced with confusion and fear. You couldn't understand why fate would choose someone you had built such animosity towards to be your mate. Feeling overwhelmed and unable to face the truth, you turned around and ran, needing time and space to process the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Azriel, though taken aback and hurt by the sudden rejection, couldn't ignore the pull of the bond drawing him to you. With determination, he chased after your steps, his heart heavy with worry and longing. He caught up to you as you were getting closer to your room. Gently reaching out to touch your shoulder, you recoiled as if his touch burned.

-Please, let's talk - Azriel pleaded, his voice tinged with sadness - I never wanted to hurt you. The fights... They were a defense mechanism, a way to hide my own feelings and protect myself from the pain of loving someone who seemed to hate me. You started this, I just… Thought I should defend myself.

-But why you? Why did it have to be you? - You whispered, voice breaking with emotion. Azriel's eyes softened, and he took a step closer, his hand hovering near your face, yearning for the connection you both feared and desired.

-I wish I had an answer for that. All I know is that the bond doesn't choose who we love, it just binds us to our other half. And for some inexplicable reason, it chose us - He could see the pain in your eyes and knew that he needed to be honest, to show vulnerability despite his fears of rejection - The truth is, the more you fought me, the more I fell for you. Your fire, your strength, everything about you drew me in. But I was terrified of what it meant, so I pushed you away.

-I didn't know what to do with my feelings either - You admitted, opening a place in your heart that you swear to never look at again - I tried to convince myself that I hated you, but it only made things worse. Every fight, every argument, it was just a way to hide how much I… I wanted to be by your side. Everything was simple with them but you? You made me feel things and I didn't want it - Azriel's heart ached at your words, and he took a step closer, finally touching your cheek gently.

-We can figure this out together. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be here for you, to understand you, and for you to understand me - Tears finally spilled from your eyes, as you looked into Azriel's soulful gaze, feeling the sincerity of his words.

-It won't be easy, but maybe we can try - You gave in, hugging him tightly, filling the void in your soul that you ignored for so long.

You and Azriel knew that you had a journey ahead, to step down from the fights and finally accept the truth that maybe, just maybe, you both were meant to be. Even in disagreement you found a way to each other. Although you would definitely keep your provocations going and Azriel would stay at your feet for anything you did, that was your way of loving and for the first time you were fine knowing what tomorrow would bring.

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

[Post-Credit Scene]

The Inner Circle sat around the table, looking perplexed and bewildered after the explosive game night that had just taken place. None of them could quite wrap their heads around what had unfolded. Nestha glanced at Cassjan, who raised an eyebrow, silently communicating his own confusion. Feyre and Rhysand seemed to be the only ones who understood the situation, but none of them made a move to say something as they kept talking to each other in their minds.

-So, did anyone understand what just happened? I mean, they are usually weird around each other but… This weird? It's worrying - The general scratched his head and finally gathered the courage to say something.

-Beats me. The brute is right. But I have to admit, seeing them argue like that is always quite entertaining. It's the only reason I've been coming for the past centuries, honestly - Amren replied with a snarl, eyes rolling as she threw her cards on the table.

-Oh, for sure! It was like watching a drama unfold right in front of us every week. But I can't believe they just bolted like that. Do you think they're okay? - Mor inquired, a mix of amusement and worry kicking in.

-If I had to bet I would say they are killing each other - Cassian said, playing with the deck of cards.

-Or fucking - Nestha chimed in with a laugh - I mean, when I didn't accept the mating bond with Cassian I acted exactly like them. If you don't understand the feeling you might as well hurt the person you hold those feelings for - Everyone seemed to agree as the bets started to grow around the table.

-Knowing those two, they probably needed some time alone to sort things out. Maybe it's an understanding finally kicking in - Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief - The group exchanged curious glances, trying to understand their High Lord.

-Well, whatever it is, we can't say it was unimportant. That was probably the most explosive family game night we've ever had - Feyre couldn't help but add with a grin.

Just then, the door to the game room creaked open, and you walked in with Azriel by your side, hand in hand, with smiles on your faces. The Inner Circle's jaws dropped in disbelief as they took in the sight in front of them.

-What the...? How did you...? What? - Cassian sputtered, at a loss for words.

-You know, it's funny how things work out sometimes - Azriel looked around at their stunned faces and chuckled.

-Yeah, we had a little heart-to-heart and sorted some things out. Turns out, we had a lot of misunderstandings to clear up - You and Azriel smiled at each other, making the whole Inner Circle shocked.

-So, you two aren't going to be at each other's throats anymore? - Amren raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming.

-Oh, we definitely will - You said when you looked back at them, your head finding its way to Azriel's shoulder.

-Just not today - He said and kissed you head, hearing some gasps from the table.

-Are we witnessing a truce? - Mor whispered to the General, who just shuddered, as confused as her.

-Let's just say we have a newfound understanding of each other - Azriel replied, you and him sharing a knowing look.

-Well, that's a relief! We were starting to wonder if you two were going to start a war right here in the Night Court - Feyre laughed, reaching out for her mate's hand.

-Glad to see you've made up. Just... maybe tone it down during future game nights? - Rhysand smiled after clearly speaking mind to mind with the Shadowsinger.

-Okay, so… the rules of the game? - Nestha questioned, her cards still secured in her hands.

-It doesn't matter right now, you can choose it - Az said, making everyone turn their eyes to him. Shock covered every face in the room. Never, in their lives, do they think Azriel would give up on something. They turned their eyes to you, expecting some remark.

-Yeah, you guys can keep going - A wave of gasps and terrorized looks were exchanged between your family - I think Az might be hungry, aren't you?

-I might be. Will you make me something? - He asked, getting so close to you that your noses almost touched.

-It will be my pleasure - You said before dragging him towards the kitchen, not even noticing the mouths of the Inner Circle opened.

-Uh uh, no. I prefer the war. Tell them to come back and fight again, I don't like the way things worked - Mor leaned back in her chair, disbelief covering her posture.

-You know what? I think this interaction was more scary than the Cauldron - Amren said, finally giving up her cards as she threw them on the table.

-Come on, it can't be that bad, right? - All of the older members looked at Nestha with scared faces, even Rhysand, who knew exactly what happened between the two of you - Okay, apparently it is.

-What do we do now? - Feyre finally asked after silence filled the room.

-We hope that this Court doesn't crumble down - That was all that Rhysand said as he began separating the cards again, a whole new game starting that night.

#spotify #acotar #azriel × reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader

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genshxn · 1 year

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✤ 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜: 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

mild(?) spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (but probably everyone knows it by now let's be honest)

written pre-3.3

author drivel. what's up, i've got covid and a head full of cotton and I'm making it your problem too, so here's some unsolicited 'fluffy' scaramouche word vomit. as such, please excuse any egregious spelling/grammar mistakes or consistency errors because lord knows i'm gonna fuck something up with my negative braincells rn.

sorry about the lack of consistency with scaramouche's name. there are so many bloody things you can call that lil piece of shit

synopsis. under kusanali's order, you're in charge of scaramouche's domestication. for now, you've fallen sick with a tenacious cold, and as part of his 'training', scaramouche has to look after you.

contents. y/n has a cold (and the shivers), scaramouche being scaramouche, slight crack, fluff, and scaramouche screaming.

w.c. 2.2k

HEY HEY YOU CAN READ PART 2 HERE

You let out a prolonged, melodramatic groan. Colds suck. You were piled under blanket after blanket, nestled in amongst a halo of pillows, banished to your quarters near the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Despite being half buried alive, you were still trying your best not to shiver. Your fever has rotated to its chills period, and nothing was helping.

You sigh. The low-lit room and radio silence weren't helping your awful feeling. Curse human fragility and its ability to fall victim to microscopic beings not even really considered "alive".

"Augh, I feel like shit..."

The door slams open. "You look like shit." In walks Scaramouche—the man of many names—with a tray of food in hand and blankets strung over his slender shoulders like an oversized, pompous collar. Same as ever, he speaks with a sharp tongue. It's not so much sarcasm aimed at you rather than it simply being the puppet's nature.

"Yeah, thanks Bowlcut." You cough back in reply.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" He huffs, gently setting down the tray on a small table next to you, contrary to his grouchy demeanour. Next, he sheds himself of the blankets, sticking them at the foot of your bed.

"As many times as I've told you to not announce your arrival with 'n insult aimed a' me." You grunt out, voice stuffy and croaky from your sinuses feeling like they're about to blow up. "Try your opening line again, Bowlcut."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he belligerently changes his greeting. "I brought your food." He dramatically gestures to the table beside you, sarcastically showing off the dishes with the added pizzazz of some jazz hands.

"Much better." You pathetically sit up, cascades of green blankets falling off your form. The movement makes your wonky head spin slightly.

"If you don't hurry up and eat it, I'm gonna eat it myself." He pulls a chair up from behind him and sticks himself down on it, leaning back with one leg crossed on top of the other. "It smells good." He looks between you and the food expectantly.

"I'd love to be able to smell it, but unfortunately it feels like a slime's taken refuge in my sinuses right now." You shuffle over to the edge of the bed to get closer, still wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket. You shudder at the loss of warmth. "Thanks for bringing my food, Scaramouche."

To your surprise, you're met with silence from him. Normally he has some sort of surly quip to fire back at anything you say, but not this time it seems. "...What're you gawking at?" He notices your blatant staring.

"You feeling alright? You're unusually quiet."

"I should be the one asking you that question." His half-assed sarcastic tone betrays his actual message with that line. He stares at some point on the floor in front of him, unable to meet your gaze. "I-it's— um... just..."

"Just what?" You blink, tilting your head slightly.

"Can you not call me that?" His voice is much quieter than normal. He sounds almost... defeated. A very uncharacteristic tone for someone who refuses to accept defeat (despite it being the only thing he's been faced with in recent times).

"You mean Sca—"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He quickly cuts you off.

"Ah, sorry." You look down at the same spot on the floor for a moment. "What would you like to be called then?"

He doesn't answer, still looking downcast.

"I think I've heard you use Wanderer once. I could call you that."

"What? Don't call me that. I just said that because I couldn't think of anything to say to some rando, like... one time!" His expression is right back to his usual self: a look of confused contempt.

"What about your other name, Kunikuzushi? I could also call you a shortened version, like... Niku?"

"Do not call me that. Niku means 'meat'. Of all things, you picked out that?" He throws his arms up in response. "Kunikuzushi or whatever works, I guess... Just don't call me Scaramouche. Or Bowlcut. OR NIKU." Upon the final word, he crosses his arms over himself like a child having a tantrum. "Now eat your food or I'm gonna take the halva for myself and feed you the... other thing... myself."

"Alright, alright." You turn to look down at the food. As you've had with your past meals, there was a dessert side of Halvamazd, made specially by Nahida for you, but curiously, the main dish itself was different than the usual Sumeran cuisine. It looks like some sort of Inazuman dish that you're not sure you've ever seen before. You stare at it curiously, and he notices.

"What, do you not like it?" Kunikuzushi frowns, staring intently at your face. His voice is unexpectedly intense.

"Oh, nothing like that, I just wasn't expecting an Inazuman dinner today." You wave your hands around slightly beneath the blanket.

"I-if you wanna blame anyone, blame the Radish," he says, sitting back, crossing his arms again. "It was her idea..." He trails off suspiciously, looking off to the side.

With that reaction? "Yeah right."

"It was!" He exclaims defensively. "Gods, are you sure you're sick? You're still as annoying as ever."

"Either way, it looks really good. What is it?"

At your words, Kunikuzushi calms down with a sigh. "It's my take on chazuke. Rice with some tea poured on top, plus some toppings. I made it, so of course it's going to be delicious." He declares confidently, puffing his flat chest.

"You made it for me?"

He stops in his tracks, lavender eyes going wide once he realizes he just blew his nonexistent cover. He sputters out some unintelligible nonsense before ultimately slumping down and crossing his arms grumpily for the third time. "Yes. Yes, I did. There, are you happy? I made it for you and it was my idea."

"Thank you very much, Ku. It looks delicious." You smile warmly at him. He looks at you with wide eyes, expression almost unreadable. His mouth parts, maybe to say something in response, but nothing comes out.

You unsheathe your hands from the blanket and begin to eat the dish. While your senses of smell and taste have been dampened by the cold, you can still taste the softly bitter and sweet flavours of the dish dancing over your tongue. It's the perfect temperature, to boot. Hot, but still cool enough to not burn your already shredded throat. Because your appetite isn't quite what it normally is, the light dish hits just right. The whole time, Kunikuzushi carefully—almost nervously—watches you wolf down the dish.

Once you finish it, you place the bowl and utensils back on the tray. "That was so good. Exactly what I needed." You wrap the blanket back around yourself, pulling it tighter to try and preserve your limited warmth. "You'll have to make it for me again when I'm better so I can really appreciate the taste."

"...Sure." He says shortly. His response isn't curt like normal, but just... awkward. You sit there awkwardly as well, trying to gather up all your layers of blankets again to reassemble your blanket cocoon. You're putting in a bit too much effort to try and not shiver. Kunikuzushi watches you for a minute, and then wordlessly moves to pick up the extra blankets he brought from the end of the bed.

"Oh, than—" Instead of simply handing them to you like you thought he would, he layers you in them, wrapping them around you himself. He kneels on the bed, torso close to your head. As he piles on blanket after blanket, his hands brush all over your shoulders. He's so close that you can feel a faint warmth radiating off him. An idea cha cha slides into your head.

"You look all... not even pathetic, just sad when you're sick and cold."

You've been around the grumpy puppet long enough to know that what he's really saying is that he doesn't like seeing you look miserable. Once you're suitably wrapped, he places one final blanket on top, draping it over the top of your head like a hooded cloak or veil. He takes a step back to examine his blanket-wrapping handiwork. Suitably happy with it, he decides to return back to his chair. But before he can get too far, you manage to grab his slender wrist, earning a shocked sputter from him.

"The blankets aren't enough. I'm still cold."

"What?! What else could you possibly need to—"

"You can't get sick, right?"

"No, not from colds or viruses or whatever, hence why I'm he—wait, what're yo—" Kunikuzushi squints at you suspiciously, aware of sinister things lingering in the air.

"You're warm. Be my heater for a bit."

"H-has your fever turned you delusional?!"

"Probably." You try to suppress a shiver unsuccessfully. "But c'mon, you said that you wouldn't get sick. Please?" You look at him expectantly,

Kunikuzushi looks at you with all sorts of conflicting feelings flitting across his twitching, reddening face, bubbling up until he finally concedes with a massive sigh. "F-fine." He puffs, eyes completely avoiding your gaze. He's too embarrassed to look anywhere near you. "At least let me do something first..." He sits on the edge of the bed and sheds his loose-sitting kimono and robes, leaving them folded neatly on the edge. Now he's in just that semi-transparent undershirt and regular shorts.

You stare at him with slightly raised eyebrows.

"What? I don't wanna overheat." He frowns, turning away from your gaze slightly. "If you're really going to... c-cling to me or whatever, lose at least two of the blankets."

"But 'm cold."

"That's your brain gaslighting you into thinking you're cold. Your 'shivers' will dissipate once I'm under there with you. If you overheat, your brain will become even more fried, and then you'll be completely useless."

Now it's your turn to let out a massive sigh with a reluctant "Fiiiiine." The outer two layers of your blanket cocoon come off, discarded to the floor next to you. You shuffle back to your original position, lying under the covers, wrapped in blankets. Kunikuzushi shuffles up next to you, hesitates for a second and then pulls the new outer blanket up a little to sit it just on top of your head. That was the second time he did that.

"What's the point of that?"

"What?"

"Move the blanket on top of my head?"

"...Um. I... do it sometimes. I like the feeling of it. I don't know, I thought you might—"

Instead, you cut him off by reaching out and putting part of the blanket on top of his head as well. He immediately goes quiet with wide eyes.

"Come on heater, get under the blankets. You talk a lot."

He makes a miffed grunt and shuffles under the covers, finding his way through all the blankets until he was right against you. You rotate your body to face him for optimal surface area coverage and close your eyes with a content exhale.

The two of you remain like this for a while, you lying next to the slightly stiff but warm Kunikuzushi. He doesn't move much and is completely silent aside from the very faint sound of his gentle breath. (does he breathe? idk lol) He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he seems to loosen up a little. You smile faintly at the thought, but it's quickly wiped from your face and replaced with a confused frown because he turns to face you and places his chin on top of your head. You can feel his soft breath on top of your head. Your eyes are as wide as saucers, staring right at the view in front of you—his neck. But oh, he's not done. Next, he pulls you slightly closer to him and then takes your hand in his own and gently laces your fingers with his. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

Next, he begins to mutter to himself. There's absolutely no way he's asleep—he must think you're asleep.

"Damnit... Fuck you, (Y/N)..."

You have to try SO hard to remain silent and not get offended and hit him with 'Bowlcut', but the dizzying polarity between his actions and his words is enough to keep you silent for now.

"Making me feel all this shit... Not even the Radish really knows what these feelings are."

You blink, eyes wide. You feel a cough coming on. This is not good. Your cover's gonna be blown.

"You're gonna be the end of me. Toying with my already shattered heart like I'm your plaything... Your smile, now calling me Ku... all these promises and things you do... I want to hate you, but I can't."

You can't hold it in anymore. You quickly push off his chest and jerk your head in the opposite direction so you don't have a coughing fit right on his chest. When you finally finish and turn back around, you're faced with a red-faced Kunikuzushi, looking absolutely mortified.

"YOU WERE AWAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME?!"

You bit your lips together awkwardly.

"AND YOU HEARD IT ALL?!"

You cough again. "Yep."

Instead of having a response that could somehow qualify as normal, his stare simply goes blank for a second until he proceeds to konk out, eyes closing and head flopping down onto the pillow.

He short-circuited.

#fr idk what the fuck this is lmfao #i just word vomited like i do with 90% of the shit i write #scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #genshin x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin fluff

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rebuke-me · 4 months

Text

thinking about the squip as an artificial intelligence and creativity.

painters and digital artists who take squips to be better at technical creation, but they never get it quite right. anatomy is just slightly off, eyes a little too big, blurred edges and awkward perspective.

actors who take squips for stage fright knowing all their lines and hitting all their spots but there's something mechanical about it. the way they move is a little too purposeful, they hit their marks a little too hard.

singers who take squips for pitch control, but all of their notes sound slightly off, even if they're using a completely normal voice. they always hit the right note, always project, but there's no soul, no emotion behind it.

photographers who take squips to always have the perfect photo, but their images always come out looking slightly photoshopped, too staged. candids are a thing of the past. everyone's too perfect, caught at the exact right moment, too stock photo.

writers who take squips to make wonderful stories, but their words are a little too close to someone else's, their narrative voice falling to pieces. there's no typos, no rough edges, no heart.

dancers who take squips to always be on beat, but never allow themselves to mark, who always have to full out perform, every time. who do a little too much. who can never make mistakes, sure, but can also never let themselves pull back when they need to.

fabric artists who take squips to create, but find themselves losing the ability to crochet, because the machine never learned how to do it, their stitches falling apart in their laps. they're left with yarn and crochet hooks and a feeling of disappointment.

comedians who take squips to be more successful, funnier, who tell jokes that are funny, that have the right amount of pause for laughter, who statistically should sell, but they lack the personal edge to make it properly.

artists who take squips for other things: for fame, for confidence, for love, for acceptance- finding that their creativity is fading away, entrusted to a machine that can't replicate their humanity and its flaws.

#be more chill #bmc #squips #the squip #idk im feeling philosophical #your art and its flaws and its rough edges make it art #not the technical skill #if everyone was perfect we wouldn't have art

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Hi! Do you think you could do what would lead to a pact with Barbatos? Like, the events leading up to it and what caused it to be made?

This has been sitting in my ask box for a while because honestly, I'm a bit torn between what I think is more likely to happen, and what my undying love for Barbatos wants to see happen.

Due to potential story spoilers for S4, I'm putting my thoughts (and a bonus drabble) under a cut.

As of S4, he's starting to recognize his affections for MC are a bit more complex than just regarding them as the human exchange student, someone else he's obligated to be polite to and take care of because Diavolo expects it of him

He's a real slow burn in a story full of very impulsive and needy demons (and angels, and other humans, and maybe a reaper now, too) but I actually love this about him

I honestly don't think MC would ask Barbatos for a pact, nor do I think he would offer one even if they were in some sort of romantic relationship - if this does come to pass, I am really curious because I think it would require exceptional circumstances

He's the Demon Lord's butler, after all - Diavolo is his priority, and I can't see that changing; forging a new pact has the potential to make him vulnerable, or exploitable, and I don't know if he would accept that sort of risk right now

Lowkey though, I like that MC's pacts (so far) are with the demon brothers - I think it makes their relationships more special for it

That being said, I don't think Barbatos would turn MC away if they asked him for help - assuming it's something he can do that doesn't impact his ability to serve Diavolo, and it doesn't put Diavolo or the Devildom in harm's way

Solomon is a bit of a shady wild card, and the fact that he has a pact with Barbatos where MC may not ever have one - well, I think that makes an interesting dynamic too

Don't get me wrong though - I'm a romantic at heart, and there's something about Barbatos agreeing to a pact with MC as a demonstration of his trust and feelings for them that makes me a little weak

Here's a little drabble about it. 💚

BARBATOS x gn!Reader 0.4k Words | SFW | Fluff, Sleeping Together, soft!Barbatos, Slightly Suggestive

Barbatos is a light sleeper.

He's grown used to getting up in the middle of the night if his Young Master needed him, and he would wake early to make sure the castle staff were each assigned their daily tasks. He personally prepared the morning’s meal and tea, ensuring Diavolo had his breakfast tray and daily paper ready the moment he woke up.

Now, Barbatos sleeps lightly for another reason.

You’re turned away from him, one of your shoulders bare where your night shirt has slipped out of place. When you bury deeper into the sheets, the fabric slips even more, and he can see the edge of his pact mark against your skin.

You’re sleeping so peacefully and he knows he shouldn’t disturb you, but he accepts whatever consequences may come later when he brushes over the mark with his finger. Once he touches you, it's difficult to resist the urge to explore more of your warm skin, to examine the evidence of his claim etched into your flesh.

He slides your night shirt out of the way so he can trace the mark with his tongue. He presses his lips to the mark, pulling your skin between his teeth gently before laving over the indents left behind. The indents of his teeth that litter your skin will fade soon enough, but he sighs with satisfaction anyway - his pact mark will remain until the end of your days together.

He can feel you stirring against him, and he has the decency to pretend to look ashamed that he's been caught. He pulls back slightly and meets your sleepy, curious look when look at him over your shoulder. Sleep fades from your gaze when your eyes shine bright, the corners of your lips lifting into a sweet, dreamy smile.

He wonders what you see that makes your breath hitch slightly, that makes your beautiful eyes shimmer with warmth. You've managed to see past all the masks he wears, the walls he builds to keep pesky emotions at bay. You've claimed his heart for your own, and he gave into the inevitable; he surrendered it willingly at your feet, a prize for the victor, your spoils of war.

He smothers the fleeting twinge of disappointment when you roll over and face him properly, nuzzling against his bare chest and throwing an arm over his waist. He curls his fingers over your shoulder - palm over his mark protectively - and keeps you close, basking in your warmth until his other master needs him.

#obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me fluff #omswd fluff #barbatos fluff #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #jes replies

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auroravictorium · 1 year

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high infidelity (pt. 1) (k.b.)

do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Summary: pekka gives up on trying to get information from reader and decides to wait for kaz's arrival instead. reader endures a bad injury, and the crows arrive to help. reader finally gets her revenge.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: ~4.3k

Warnings: LOTS of blood and violence (stabbing, vague description of gutting someone), minor self harm (reader holds a piece of porcelain tight enough to cut her fingers), death of non-canon character(s), use of guns, shooting, lots of pain, mentions of illness/infection

Genre: angst and action

Author's Note: if you didn't read the warnings, PLEASE go back and look at them! this is a lot more violent than previous parts. also! this is from reader's pov! you can find kaz's pov here! sorry for the wait! i hope you all enjoy :))

part two

It was raining.

The pooling of water in the corner of your cell was the only indication you had of the weather outside. Seeing the filthy puddle forming made your already dry mouth seem borderline painful. You hadn't dared to touch the dirty bucket of water in the corner, surviving only off the broth and the small bowl of water your captors occasionally provided. At this point, you were willing to take the chance of drinking the rainwater leaking into your cell.

You ran your thumb along the edge of the porcelain shard you sharpened upon your return to your cell however long ago. The threat of piercing skin was a nice distraction from the aching of your throat, the white-hot pain in your chest, and the beginnings of a fever you were trying desperately to ignore. The gash on the back of your head hadn't started to heal; instead, it had gotten worse.

If you threatened to cut your finger enough times, you could ignore the reality of your situation settling over you. If they don't kill me, my injuries will. Internal bleeding, infection, starvation, dehydration.

However you considered it, you didn't have much time.

You didn't want to consider the possibility of Kaz not coming to get you. He had to be looking for you. He'd worked too hard to keep you out of the Dime Lions' hands to give up when mercenaries did their work for them.

But he had to know that Pekka planned to kill him if he came to get you. Kaz wasn't a fool.

Would he leave you here to die or come to get you and risk death himself?

The porcelain shard broke the skin of your thumb. Blood beaded at the wound and seeped down the ceramic, staining it a deep, lethal red. You almost didn't feel your finger throbbing, and it took a few moments to register in your mind that you should drop the makeshift blade. You should stuff it beneath your shoddy pallet and try to sleep until the mercenaries dragged you back upstairs. You shouldn't add to the injuries on and beneath your skin.

You did none of those things. Kaz will come for me. You curled your fingers around the shard, slicing the skin of your other fingers, and let your eyes slip shut.

He will.

As drowsiness wrapped you in its cool embrace, you realized you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Not because Kaz would abandon you, but because you knew you were running on time that wasn't your own. You were at the mercy of the mercenaries, Pekka Rollins, Kaz's ability to get to you. You were at the mercy of exhaustion and the infection taking root in your blood.

If Kaz made it to you, would he find you alive or dead? Would he bring you back to Ketterdam to heal or to be buried?

Nine months ago, you'd faced death at the hands of a rogue Dime Lion on a job. As you'd felt those ice-cold shackles on your limbs, you'd thought of Kaz's smile. At the time, you'd never seen it; you'd convinced yourself you never would, but it was a thought you suddenly refused to accept as death came for you. Your defiance brought you back to life and to Kaz, stubborn, foolish Kaz, who decided to wait until your near death before confessing he cared.

Now, having seen that smile, having felt his hands in yours, having born dozens of wounds for the chance to get back to him, would you accept death as it stalked closer? Would you let it pull you into its embrace, lead you to the Saints as it had millions of others? Would it take you this time?

Unconsciousness claimed you before you could answer any of your questions, sinking its talons into you and jerking you beneath the cold waves.

When you woke up, you saw the sky. Your eyes were so bleary, weighed down in a way they hadn't been when you fell asleep, that you thought you were imagining it. But no, it was there just beyond a grimy window and far from your reach. It was grey and dreary, and the air smelled faintly of rain, untouched by the mildew and rot of your cell.

Your cheeks felt hot, yet you shivered as you glanced around at your surroundings. You were in the main room of the warehouse now, surrounded by rusty machinery, empty burlap bags, and other miscellaneous garbage from the building's production days. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, nor was your porcelain shard. But you weren't alone; Pekka sat in a chair before you, his legs propped on a crumbling metal table. He spun a revolver in his hand and added a bullet each time he finished a rotation.

He'd cleaned the blood from his face and beard and changed his clothes since you'd seen him last. He looked as he had the day he first arrived, an unknown amount of time ago. Clean. Composed. Disgustingly powerful.

You jerked your hands against your bindings as if you had the strength to pull them free or break them against the wooden support beam you were tethered to. "Either pull the trigger or leave me be," you said. Your voice was unexpectedly hoarse, and you flinched at the sound. Each word sent scraping pain down your throat, and every breath coming out of your lungs felt too warm, too final.

Pekka smiled pleasantly and slid another bullet into the chamber. "These bullets aren't for you, lass. My men have seen your crew in the city, coming to make their rescue. I reckon an hour until they find you, maybe less if the boy knows where to look."

"I'll make sure your next of kin is aware they can expect to find your body in the canal in a few weeks," you snapped, forcing as much venom into your words as you could, which wasn't much in your state. You leaned your forehead against the wooden beam and shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut. It was too warm in here. You were so cold.

The news of the Crows being nearby should have perked you up and motivated you to keep fighting until they arrived. Instead, you could barely bring yourself to offer a scathing remark in acknowledgment. Even your worry for Kaz was dimmed by your worsening fever and overwhelming fatigue, not to mention the pain coursing through you as you shifted your weight from one leg to another.

The sound of boots echoed against the stone floor and off the walls, and you slowly opened your eyes to see who it was. All three mercenaries were prowling over, armed to the teeth and looking no less than bloodthirsty. The Crows had to be getting close to the warehouse, wherever it was; otherwise, the mercenaries wouldn't be leering at you like they had a few final sick bits of torture they wanted to inflict.

The one you hadn't seen since the coach ride, whom you half-heartedly decided to name Number Three, stepped forward and pulled a knife from the sheathe at his thigh. His free hand was bandaged, the result of your bite as he attempted to drug you in the coach, and you would've been smug about it if the world wasn't starting to wobble around you. Number Three cocked his head, and his brown eyes roamed you up and down, taking in the sallowness of your skin and the injuries scattered over you like a gruesome painting of red, blue, and purple. "Not much bite left, huh, sweetheart?"

You didn't bother responding, resting your head against the support beam and letting out a slow breath. Your heart thundered in your chest, making your head throb painfully; it took everything in you to not panic. Being outnumbered hadn't bothered you before, but it felt more threatening now that you knew Kaz and some, if not all, of the Crows were close to rescuing you. You were so close to freedom.

Hold on a little longer.

"Someone not feeling well?" Sergei drawled. He prowled closer, and the tip of a blade traced over your hollow cheek. It slid down your jaw, a terrifying caress as it traveled down your throat, shoulder, and bicep until it stopped at your forearm. You stiffened, turning your face away and trying to shift around the support beam to get away. But a body stood behind you, and Fjerdan Asshole clamped his fingers onto your shoulders to keep you in place.

You gritted your teeth and jerked your shoulders, but the grip only tightened. "Now, now," Fjerdan Asshole chastised. "Hold still." His fingertips pressed painfully into your flesh, and you fought to keep from groaning through your teeth.

Breathe.

Sergei slowly slid your shirt sleeve up, revealing the dark ink of the Dregs tattoo on your skin, and you held back as he lifted his knife. He pressed the tip of it against the crow's head, nipping the skin, and your breathing sped up as blood slowly trickled down your arm.

He leaned in until his mouth was against your ear. You trembled and turned your head away, but you refrained from cracking your skull into his nose. It was too risky in your condition, and the pulsing of the gash in the back of your head told you that you needed to stay still. The world was still tipping from one side to the other, in time with the throbbing of your wounds.

"Tell me," Sergei hissed, "has the pain been worth it, knowing that we're going to kill him the moment he steps through that door?" In one swift movement, he sliced the sleeve of your shirt right off, leaving a thin cut around your bicep where he'd removed it. "Knowing that it was for nothing? That you marked yourself with a symbol that will mean nothing the moment Ketterdam hears he's dead?"

He twirled the blade across his fist, his eyes darkening with a rage that made you feel sick. If your stomach weren't empty, you would have vomited onto the floor as you realized what he had planned. The knife. The utter hatred for the symbol on your arm. The slicing of your sleeve from the rest of your shirt like a surgeon performing a routine exam.

His words were deliberately spoken as if you'd live to see a Ketterdam without Kaz Brekker in it, where your only reminders of him would be your memories and your tattoo. This man intended to tarnish the first with pain and ruin the second with blood, and the rest of your captors intended to watch.

The orchestrator of it all smiled, a disturbing glee filling Pekka's eyes as he watched the realization cross your face.

You jerked your arm in his grip as your shoulders and breathing trembled with panic. It rattled your lungs, irritated your broken ribcage, filled your mouth with a coppery, bitter taste. "Get your hands off me," you snapped, twisting your arm to hide your tattoo. But there was nowhere you could go, absolutely nothing you could do to prevent this, and Sergei only readjusted his hold. Firmer this time, making the skin whiten beneath his filthy fingers. It would bruise, and your ruined tattoo wouldn't be the only reminder of what he'd done.

"I'm going to do you a favor," Sergei whispered like he had a secret to share. He brought the knife's tip to the top of your tattoo again, near the crook of your elbow. Your pulse thrummed beneath the touch of the metal, and you had to look away from the sight of his thumb tenderly stroking the inner skin of your elbow. Nausea rose in your throat, bile seeping onto your tongue as someone other than Kaz touched you with such gentleness. "Wipe the slate clean. If you're still, maybe you won't have a scar."

Tears brimmed in your eyes, and you couldn't bring yourself to stop them. There was nothing to be done, nothing to stop this. No breathing to exhale the impending pain, no controlling the sudden spinning of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut and sagged against the post as a quiet sob slipped past your lips.

No mourners. No funerals.

It was the only thing you could think, echoing through your mind in Kaz's voice. A quiet rasp shared in the dark of his room before you left, however long ago. The most he could offer right then, but more than enough for you.

You clung to what little comfort the memory provided and focused on every detail you could remember. Kaz's eyes. The concerned purse of his lips. His dark hair, ruffled from running his fingers through it too many times. Dust motes spinning lazily through the air, caught in the faint moonlight streaming through his window. How he looked as if he wanted to say so much more.

The comfort was temporary, beaten back as the blade pierced your skin. It was the worst pain you'd felt since you'd been taken, a hot flash of agony reverberating bone-deep. Your arm was on fire, liquid flame dripping down your skin as Sergei drove the knife deeper and slowly carved it downward.

You screamed. The sound tore at your raspy throat and echoed around the warehouse loud enough to make Pekka, Number Three, and Fjerdan Asshole flinch. Sergei remained unaffected, continuing his morbid surgery with a nauseating glimmer of amusement in his eyes. You tried to pull your arm from Sergei's grip, but his hand was an immovable vice around your arm that locked it in place as he slashed your Dregs tattoo in half.

Torn, jagged edges of skin, seeping blood. It was all you could see through your tears as you sobbed, turning your face into the wooden support beam to hide the damage from your view. The world started to tilt and spin faster as blood rushed from the wound and dripped onto the floor, splattering your boots and turning the stone red.

Sergei released you, but you couldn't let your arm drop to your side as you wished. With your wrists bound around the pole, you were forced to see your arm utterly ruined before you. It was the worst kind of torture, seeing blood where ink once was, how quickly a mark you fought to earn could be destroyed.

You heard footsteps moving away from you, and the hands resting on your shoulders disappeared. Wooden chairs scraped against the stone floor as the mercenaries started to settle around the table Pekka sat at, murmuring and snickering amongst themselves.

Metal thumped against stone, and the sound was followed by the rattling of chains.

The mercenaries went silent, and their chairs shifted once more. Safeties clicked on guns, and you heard metal hissing against leather as daggers were drawn. "Grab her," Pekka hissed. "It's Brekker's crew."

Nobody got the chance to lay hands on you before the doors to the warehouse slammed open, and four figures came rushing inside. Two tall ones, two shorter ones; a glittering crow on a cane, shimmering blades, spinning pistols, and sparkling coat buttons. Kaz, your friends, your Crows. Even through nauseating dizziness, you would know them anywhere.

Before you could call for any of them, the room exploded into chaos as Kaz threw a phosphorous bomb down and filled the air with smoke.

Chairs moved, and weapons clashed, filling the air with noise that rang in your ears and made you want to take cover. Pistols fired, and someone groaned. A body hit the floor next to you, and you flinched away from the face of Number Three staring up at you, a bullethole clean through his forehead.

To get out of the line of fire, you carefully maneuvered around the support beam, using what little leeway you had. You ducked as something flew right past where you stood moments ago: barely recognizable, charred chunks of chair legs.

You let out a shaky tremble and tried to get closer to the floor, unable to do much more than wait until someone cut your bindings. Until then... Despite the searing pain in your arms, you slowly started to scrape the rope against the wooden surface of the support beam, hoping a stray thread would catch in the rotten, splintering surface. Please please please. This isn't their fight alone.

Through the white haze of the room, Sergei noticed your attempted evasion and snarled. He broke from fighting with Inej, blocking a slash of her blade with one of his own before crossing to you. He cut through your bindings, jerked you to your feet, then held his bloody blade to your throat.

You cried out as he hauled you back, stumbling and nearly tipping over as the world did flips and your legs went out from under you. Black spots danced across your vision, and bile rose in your throat. You lifted your uninjured arm to get a grip on his wrist so you could push out of his hold, but he pressed the blade to the underside of your chin just hard enough to nip the skin. "You move, and I slash your pretty neck," Sergei growled in your ear. "Now, we're going to walk toward the back, and you aren't going to fight me."

Sergei started to walk backward, keeping his dagger positioned at your throat and ignoring how it shallowly cut your skin when you stumbled. As you got further from the clearing smoke and saw your friends locked in combat with Fjerdan Asshole, you felt the fading sparks of your energy flare back up again.

They smoldered until they sparked, sparked until they set alight, heated until they burned hot enough to burn away your pain and your exhaustion and your memories of the past days. You forgot about your fever and the wound in your arm rapidly losing blood. All you saw was the leader of the mercenaries swinging his fists at Jesper and batting Inej away like a fly, and Pekka landing a strike on Kaz's face hard enough to break the skin.

All you felt was rage for what they'd done to you and what they planned to do to your friends.

Bracing your hand against Sergei's arm, you bashed your head back against his chin and pushed away the weapon in his hand at the same time. Pain shot through your skull and right down your spine, threatening to send you sprawling to the floor. But you managed to stay upright and turned on your heel, swinging your left fist toward Sergei's face. His head cracked to the side, and bone crunched beneath your knuckles. His knife clattered to the ground as he grunted and stumbled back from the force of your punch.

You dove for the knife, landing badly on your injured arm with a loud cry, and narrowly managed to wrap your fingers around the blade's handle before Sergei shoved you onto your back. He pinned you to the floor with his weight and tried to wrestle the dagger from your grip, his fingers clamping around yours with bruising force. You panted and struggled, anything to keep him from establishing a hold on the weapon you'd managed to grab. The first one you'd had access to since yours were taken.

You'd die before you gave it up and let yourself be unarmed again.

Sergei suddenly froze above you, halting his attack as his face turned bright red. His chest was still, frozen on an exhale of breath, and he clutched his throat with his blood-stained hands. You watched in bewilderment as his eyes rolled back in his head, and his lips turned blue. Blood bubbled at the corners, starting to slide down.

You gasped for air, glancing over Sergei's shoulder to find the source of his agony. Nina stood there, her hands outstretched as she squeezed his heart and lungs. More blood seeped from his lips as her grip tightened on his organs, her fingers curling toward her palms. Her lips were pursed in determination, and her blue eyes were dark with fury. They flicked to yours, and she nodded.

Now.

You didn't need convincing. You drove the dagger into Sergei's chest as hard as you could with one arm's waning strength. Blood poured onto your hand as you pushed it up to the hilt beneath his ribcage, soaking into your remaining sleeve and sticking it to your skin. Sergei's mouth fell open as if he might scream, but no sound came out. Red drops fell from his lips onto your face and neck, and you wanted to gag as you twisted the blade to force it as deep as it could possibly go.

Sergei teetered before slumping to the ground, writhing and trying to pull the dagger from his chest. His frantic movements slowed until his arms fell to his sides, and he seemed to realize he was beyond saving.

It should have been enough. Seeing death approach in his eyes should have satisfied the hungry wrath burning in your chest, roaring in your ears. Instead, you pushed yourself into a kneel at his side. The ground was slick with blood as it pooled around him and dripped from your arm, and the world wobbled around you as you wrapped your fingers around the dagger's reddened hilt.

You ripped the weapon from his chest, making him scream in agony. A sick, twisted part of you relished in the sound. Good. I hope he hurts.

"Was it worth it?" you hissed, turning his words back on him as you positioned the blade above his navel. "Drugging me, breaking me, trying to kill me, only for you to die by my hand?" You dug the weapon in, piercing his flesh with slow precision. "By your own weapon?" You leaned in until your faces were inches apart, letting him see the wrath in your eyes. How unapologetic you were for what you planned to do.

He was alive enough to finally look afraid of you.

"I'll make sure there's enough left of you to be buried," you breathed. "Maybe if you grovel, the Saints will ensure you spend eternity in fewer pieces."

Sergei's eyes drifted shut. It was possible he didn't hear your words. Perhaps death had already claimed him, but you didn't care. You couldn't as rage flooded every nerve in your body. At that moment, you knew nothing else, even as black dots danced across your vision and you swayed unsteadily.

Your hand trembled as you twisted the knife in his abdomen, burying it further before shoving it upward with the rest of your strength. Blood slickened your palms and pooled around your knees. Distantly, you could see how much damage you'd done, how he was cut clean open from his navel to his sternum. You didn't want to look any harder than that.

The rushing in your ears slowly died out, leaving you in a heavy, numb silence as Sergei died before you. The fighting had stopped sometime during your moment of fury, and the air reeked of sweat and the metallic tang of blood. It was you and Kaz and the Crows, surrounded by the culmination of every decision you'd made up to this point, from leaving your family to whispering 'I love you' in a city full of vengeance. You never imagined your life and hands would be tainted by blood and death.

You'd always imagined the world spinning slowly, twirling gracefully on its axis. It was colorful and bright, carefree and uncomplicated. Clean, untouched, magical.

The world was not so.

You collapsed onto the stone ground between one blink and the next. The room spun too fast around you, so blurry and dizzying that you squeezed your eyes shut. Hands, so many hands, found your body, pressed against your wounds.

Gentle fingers pressed to your forehead, and you felt your pulse begin to slow. Sleep started to tug on you, pulling you under.

Tears slipped down the corners of your eyes, hot against your clammy skin. "No," you whispered, trying to turn away from the probing fingers. But your muscles couldn't or wouldn't cooperate. "No more. Please." You'd slept enough. You didn't want to sleep anymore.

You forced your eyes open, trying to focus on the blurry shapes moving above you. Four faces, your friends. One was closer than the rest, pale and streaked with blood. Kaz was hunched over you, examining your wounds.

"Nina, her arm," Kaz said. His raspy voice was familiar and comforting, like cocoa on a bitterly cold day, but panic lay beneath the words and froze you to the bone. You'd never heard fear in that voice before. "Jesper, the coach. Take Inej. Go."

A flurry of activity happened around you; two sets of footsteps disappeared as quickly as they arrived, and gentle fingers started to work on your arm and the back of your head. Gloved hands wiped away at the blood they could find, then one found your hand and gently squeezed as your eyes fluttered shut.

Sleep overtook you as your resistance failed, eased by Kaz's careful touch. It tethered you to earth, a silent promise that he wouldn't let you drift away. He was gloved and dark and the subject of every faded dream that danced through your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You trusted him to pull you out of the fog when it was time.

kaz pov (part 2) here!

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