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islandofsages · 4 months

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Hey, I wanted to ask for the housewardens with a male!reader from their dorm that have the same name as the Seven's sidekicks (?).

Example : Cerberus for Idia, Diaval for Malleus, FlotSam for Azul, ect...

And people (*cough* Yuu *cough*) always compared the reader with the housewarden and always say things like : "oh yeah, the new Diaval and the new Maleficent.." *looking at Reader and Malleus talking about Briar Valley.*

characters: the housewardens x male reader

tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines + scenario format; yuu is there, mentions of ruggie and jack in leona's, mentions of the leech twins in azul's, mentions of jamil in kalim's, mentions of ortho in idia's, mentions of sebek in malleus'

warnings: nothing

author's notes: i tried to choose characters that aren't already inspirations for the characters in the game so some of them end up being from the second movie and stuff LOL sorry if this isnt what you want anon but honestly i did have a lot of fun writing this

Riddle Rosehearts — The King of Hearts

You’re not sure why and how but you’re dubbed as The King of Hearts of your dorm, alongside Riddle who is the Queen

Unsure of what to make of this, you ignore it and continue to devote yourself to the Queen just as any normal person would sorry this is kinda satire

Riddle is simply your friend. You cherish him a lot and you respect him and his beliefs. Even when he overblotted, your faith in him is unwavering

Speaking of the overblot, after the whole catastrophe, you’ve grown a lot closer with the other card soldiers, along with the magicless kid named Yuu and their pet (Grim was his name?)

They would greet you from time to time, stop by to have a chat when they’re free and check up on the dorm

One day, they made an offhand comment about you and Riddle

“You guys are paving the way for the new generation of the Queen of Hearts and the King of Hearts. Though, I guess the King of Hearts didn’t really do anything anyway.”

First of all, what the hell are you talking about?

Second of all, you’d say you contribute much to the dorm. For Yuu to assume such a thing for you simply because some “past King of Hearts” didn’t do so is ridiculous

You don’t voice these things out loud and shrug it off as them saying random things again, or making some kind of reference you don’t get

And because, third of all, you realize they broke rule 228: they definitely picked a rose in your garden. So you go to kick them out before Riddle could find out.

All in the day’s work for the King of Hearts.

Leona Kingscholar — Zira

You could say you and Leona are tight - maybe not Ruggie and Leona tight, but almost

And part of that can be attributed to the fact that you may or may not idolize Leona. But hey, it’s not strange. If Jack can do it, why can’t you? At least it’s not on Sebek’s level

Plus, you deserve to have some pride in yourself for being one of the only people Leona confidently calls a friend of his

Though, one person has been persistent about being Leona’s friend - Yuu, the person who just spawned out of nowhere apparently

You’d catch them talking to Leona sometimes and to be frank, there are times where Leona is less annoyed than usual at their presence

One day in particular, the three of you are hanging around Savanaclaw’s lounge, when Yuu drops a bombshell

“Ah yes, of course, you two are exactly like Scar and his creepily-devout follower, Zira.”

??? Yes, Zira is (a variation) of your name but you wouldn’t call yourself “creepily-devout”. Also, who even is Scar?

Leona’s ears twitch in annoyance, either because he doesn’t understand what Yuu means or that he’s put off by their phrasing

You sit in silence, deciding if this is a topic worth asking more about or not

Curiosity gets the best of you - you ask them. They basically dump all the information they could onto you

Yeah, you still don’t get it. But whoever this other Zira is, they’re kinda cool honestly.

Azul Ashengrotto — Morgan(a)

A lot of people consider you one of Azul’s henchmen alongside Jade and Floyd - God forbid working to the bone every day for the Mostro Lounge, right?

But you don’t take it as an insult. It’s no compliment to be so loyal to such a capitalistic bastard (said affectionately) but it’s just another part of your life

Plus. You’re friends with the dude. His cunning nature is what you’re here for

Maybe sometimes you feel a little inferior to him since everyone lauds him as some powerful mage but you tell yourself you don’t need such prestige

Though even outside of work, sometimes you see that Yuu person loiter around the Mostro Lounge in search of Azul (and the Leech siblings occasionally)

So you decide to sit down with them one day and have a nice little chat when-

“So you’re the Morgana dude right? You definitely give off the vibes. Let me guess: you have a love-hate relationship with your stronger, superior boss?”

You have to do a double take at what they just spouted - where are these assumptions coming from suddenly?

Also your name is Morgan.

They laugh and assure you it’s only a joke and a reference to a movie they like since Azul and you have an uncanny resemblance to the characters in that movie

Even still, you can’t help but feel confused… no way they just go up to people and reference things they enjoy right…?

You try to work on your vibes starting the very next day.

Kalim Al-Asim — Aladdin

You’re somewhat of an enabler for Kalim’s party animal and reckless tendencies which Jamil doesn’t really appreciate but also you don’t give a shit

Who can say no to free food and music? Well, a specific amount of people but you’re definitely not one of them

Kalim is friends with everyone; or rather, he considers everyone a friend and that considerately counts you too

But you two really are though - after the party’s died down, the two of you would chat late into the night about everything and anything. And it works because he’s such a good listener

At one of his many parties, the Yuu person who’s apparently from another world comes to party along with you

And so you eat and dance as one usually would under Kalim’s rule, learning bits of information about Yuu along the way

As per usual, the party dies down so you, Kalim and Yuu take the chance to relax and have a concrete conversation

At some point, Yuu comments on your name (and apparent namesake…?)

“Wait, so your name is Aladdin? Like the thief guy who fell in love with the Sultan’s daughter? Feels kinda weird since Kalim kinda reminds me of the Sultan himself…”

Well, yes, your name is Aladdin although you just tell people to call you Ali but everything else they just said is completely false

You all laugh it off because the mood is appropriate for an elaborate joke as such but the next day, when you think over the whole interaction, you have to wonder what was going on through their head at the time

You make a mental note to see if you’ll ever fall in love with a sultan’s daughter.

Vil Schoenheit — Raven

You’re a little intimidated by Vil but you have as much respect for him as anyone does

And somehow, you manage to gain his respect too, though you are a mere spudling…

You try not to let it get to your head (especially considering he has more respect for some other spuds than you) but it’s no easy feat to get a compliment from Vil Schoenheit himself

One person in particular has been getting a lot of attention from Vil lately, you’ve noticed

This Yuu person has been stopping by Pomefiore a lot lately, ever since the weird invasion at school where a bunch of robot people broke into the school grounds

You don’t question it because they’ve been interacting with Vil since the VDC but the thing is Yuu has been trying to get to know more of the dorm members

And one day, they get to you finally

They seem normal enough once you two sit down to chat in the lounge—

“Hm, so your name is Raven? I think I vaguely remember a raven being in Snow White…”

You have no idea what that means and before you could change the topic yourself, Yuu dismisses it; but then the next day, when you were thinking about the exchange again, you get curious as to what a Snow White is

So you start to scour the Internet for this “Snow White” and it manages to consume you for a few days until Yuu tells you that it’s just a movie from their world

You don’t talk to them for a few days.

Idia Shroud — Meg

You and the Shroud brothers are more like frenemies than anything - you three banter like old friends who know too much about each other

Other than Ortho, Idia does ask you for some favors a lot and you like joking that he’s drowning in debt when it comes to you

Sometimes he pays back by gaming with you, sometimes he pays with actual money. Good money at that. You don’t complain either way

One day you run another favor for him (which he promises more good money for) to send some stuff to Ramshackle

A person named Yuu and their only other dorm member Grim had sent stuff to Idia for repairing and maintenance - not that you care about the details. You’re just gonna get it over with

Once you reach their dorm, the first thing you’re met with are the two dorm members bickering over something. You chuckle; it reminds you of your conversations with Idia

You excuse yourself for interrupting and go to drop off their things on the table in the middle of the lounge

They stop bickering then and Yuu greets you momentarily before muttering something under their breath

“Of course the new Meg to the new Hades dropped off our stuff.”

You assume they don’t know that you heard what they said and quite frankly you don’t want to care much but you admit you’re a bit curious of what they mean

When you get back to Idia, you ask him to decipher that cryptic message

He admits he has no idea what they mean by that, simply tells you not to think about it and pays you with some good old cash - and some fun gaming time so you forget all about it later anyway.

Malleus Draconia — Diaval

You are one of Malleus’ loyal retainers - you were bestowed the honor of being his “wings” even whatever that means

But Malleus sees you as an equal almost. You are no servant and you have your own wings to tend to; it’s the stuff that would move Sebek to tears

You do see him as a friend mostly, even if at first you started doing so out of pity

But now you see him making more friends around campus and you can’t help but feel happy for and proud of him

There’s one friend who he seems to be around a lot - the magicless human named Yuu

It makes sense since he does enjoy taking walks around their dorm, even before they came to occupy it

One day, you three make the time to have tea together and simply talk. It’s all very pleasant when Yuu says-

“You know, don’t you think it’s weird how your name is Diaval and you’re serving someone who’s strangely reminiscent of Maleficent?”

Well, you don’t think it’s weird because you have no idea what they’re referencing and who Maleficent is - and Malleus seems to think the same, with the confused look on his face and all

Also as true as it is that you’re Malleus’ retainer, you don’t appreciate someone phrasing it as you “serving” him

Yuu apologizes for the comment and explains what they mean by it. You both still don’t get it but it’s enough to make you shrug it off

Sometimes Yuu would still make such comments, thinking you don’t hear it but knowing it’s not that deep, it doesn’t affect the three of you’s friendship whatsoever.

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kopivie · 6 months

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hades!wriothesley who, at times, appears more like an apparition to you when you first get to know him. his footfalls are nearly imperceptible and he's quick to change positions. how a big man like him is able to move around undetected, you'll never know. (you'll also never know that he's doing that on purpose because he loves when you jump. he ghosts his cryo-tipped fingers across your nape when you least expect him to, bursting into a fit of laughter when you yelp and scurry to warm yourself up.)

hades!wriothesley who leaves little pieces of himself in the little nooks and crannies of your shop and your heart. it becomes a mutual exchange; you give him dendro-enhanced flowers to last while he's in the underworld, and he leaves folded up notes tucked underneath flower pots for you to read during his absence. he treasures the fragrance of the petals while you treasure the parchment that just so happens to smell of his rich cologne.

hades!wriothesley who catches you reading one of his notes when he returns to visit you. you don't notice him -- you're too engrossed in reading. you're holding the paper close to your chest with the most smitten smile on your lips, and wriothesley has to count to 50 before he enters the shop, lest he come in and do something he might regret. (you're biting your bottom lip to stop from smiling. oh, how he wants to brush that lip with his thumb.. how badly he wants to kiss you stupid..)

hades!wriothesley who never kisses the back of just one of your hands, oh no – he always insists on kissing the backs of both of your hands at the same time. you once joked about him being extra gentlemanly. he bit your finger in retaliation. (you also noticed that his canines are particularly sharp.)

hades!wriothesley who stays with you on the night before he has to return to his domain. cerberus will likely act out if he's gone for too long, but he doesn't wish to leave you just yet. so he sits at your beside stroking your cheek with the back of his icy fingers. cold as he may be, you feel nothing but warmth emanating from him. it's you who kisses the back of his hand this time, a gesture that gives him pause. once he's recovered, he cups your warm cheek in his palm. moonlit grey eyes soften as they drink you in.

"may i be frank with you?" wriothesley asks softly.

"you may."

"i want you." you feel his hand stiffen as he realizes what he said. "not-- not in that way. not yet, anyhow. and certainly not before you're ready. but i... i want you. all of you."

you want to reply. you so badly want to return his feelings. you can feel it in your heart, your very soul calls out to him even when he's near. and yet something chains you in place, makes you unable to verbalize it. you open and close your mouth a few times as you struggle for words.

hades shakes his head. he's smiling, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "you don't need to say anything. if you wish to take it slow, then i will do as you please. i just wanted to let you know."

"...i'm sorry." you close your eyes and lean into his touch. you feel the bed shift as he leans down to touch his forehead to yours. your heart stutters and your breathing hitches. "i'm so, so sorry."

"it's okay."

"i want you too. really, i do."

"i know." the two of you breathe in tandem for a moment. the unspoken confession lingers in the night air. then, after a long silence: "i have to leave."

it's your turn to sigh. "i know."

wriothesley pecks your nose. "wait for me."

and you shiver. not because of the cold, but rather because he was not asking. he knows that you will wait for him. he knows that his place in your heart is assured. "wait for me," he murmurs again.

"i will." you hum when you feel his lips ghosting over yours. you hold your breath in anticipation. "please," you practically beg. "just do it."

wriothesley's breath fans over yours. you can feel his words being spoken against your mouth. even in whisper, you can hear his voice tremble. "you're tempting me."

"just... give me something to remember you by."

and that's all it takes for him to kiss you. you become drunk on the moonlight coating his lips.

so this was just a little ramble and test of my ability to write a scene! it's been so long since i've written like this, and i just figured that this was a good au to test it on!

i do wanna dedicate this little thing to @catcze though! i know timezones are super fucky but! it's still your birthday where i am, so!!! happy birthday!!! i hope you have dreams of wrio in the future 💕💗💕

#[ 💭 — thoughts. ]#wriothesley x reader #hades!wriothesley x persephone!reader #i dunno i was just...#commuting and these all came to me in little bursts #please lemme know what you think 🥺

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moa-broke-me · 7 months

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PJO characters as gods:

So there was a post going around about the idea of PJO characters being treated as gods in a thousand years or so, and I like the idea, but some of the godly placements felt a little off to me LOL, so I decided to make my own pantheon. (not sure how to order these, lol)

Percy: God of the ocean and all its creatures, of water in general, hurricanes, earthquakes, cities, family, and horses. Titles: The savior of Olympus, the good son, the loyal husband, retriever of the bolt, king of the gods. Sacred items: Stuffed animals, particularly bears (panda pillow pet), any item colored blue, but especially food, like candy or cookies, bull horns, and pens. Sacred animals: All marine life, the black pegasus, the black dog, and the ophiotaurus.

Annabeth: Goddess of war, strategy, intelligence, wisdom, practical knowledge, civilization and the building of houses, the study of history, and the mind. Titles: The general, the architect, favored child of Athena, queen of the gods. Sacred items: Knives, rings, clay beads, coral, silver, and popcorn. Sacred animal: The owl.

Clarisse: Goddess of war, revenge, anger fueled by love, triage and midwifery. Titles: The eager soldier, slayer of the drakon, retriever of the golden fleece. Sacred items: Spears and weapons in general, wool/fleece, and chariots. Sacred animal: The boar. Often depicted bloodstained, charging into battle without armor.

Frank: God of war, animals, change, the transition from boyhood to manhood, of the duality between strength and gentleness. Titles: The reluctant soldier, the changeling lord, the young praetor. Sacred items: Bows and arrows, playing cards (mythomagic), charred wood, and a silver medallion on a red string (the canadian sacrifice medal) Sacred animals: The bear and the bee, both the most common depictions of him as an animal.

Reyna: Goddess of war, patriotism, fidelity, independence, leadership, strength, sorority, and resilience. Titles: The shield, the politician, guardian of Athena (bc the athena parthenos). Sacred items: Cloaks, gold, silver, and oat cakes (oatmeal cream pies). Sacred animal: The hound. Often depicted either shielding a little boy with her cloak or braiding hair with her older sister.

Hazel: Goddess of jewels, caves, broken curses, witchcraft and the mist, art, death and escape thereof. Titles: The princess of the underworld, the queen of magick, the illusionist, the dead girl who rose again. Sacred items: Schist (because... obviously), pencils and oil pastels, gold, shrimp stew (because gumbo), Tarot cards, and caramel candy. Sacred animals: The horse, the stoat, and the black cat. Often depicted either drawing or riding horseback, usually with her older brother, but sometimes alone or accompanied by her husband or one of her friends.

Nico: God of darkness and shadows, death, decay, loss, longing, love of all kinds, language, diplomacy and forgiveness, insomniacs, immigrants and orphans, mourners and outcasts, and sewing. Titles: The bereaved, king of the underworld, the ghost king, the romantic, deliverer of Athena (again, the statue, not the actual goddess). Sacred items: Playing cards (mythomagic), soft suede leather, fried bits of chicken (mcnuggets), sewing supplies, oat cakes (again, oatmeal cream pies), Posca (not the pen; the drink. it's like an ancient roman gatorade), pomegranates, anything colored green or black, and memento mori rings. Sacred animals: The bat, cerberus, unicorns (because unicorn draught), all stray animals, and any animals or insects that feed on carrion. Commonly depicted either weeping or accompanying his little sister or husband. (@yonemurishiroku you're gonna love this one)

Bianca: Minor goddess of death, darkness, rebirth and reincarnation, sisterhood, and the hunt. Titles: The broken promise, thief of the forge, slayer of Talos. Sacred items: a carved statuette of her father, and a bow and arrow. Sacred animals: None. Most often depicted climbing onto the back of Talos, or comforting/bickering with her little brother.

Will: God of medicine, light, summer, and the sun. Title: The healer, the sun. Sacred items: Candy bars, medical equipment, lamps, summer fruits, and anything colored yellow. Sacred animal: The cat.

Thalia: Goddess of lightning and storms, maidenhood, the moon, the night sky, wilderness and the hunt. Titles: Queen of the skies, the hunter, guardian of sanctuary. Sacred items: Leather, golden fleece, the severed heads of dolls (bc of the 'barbie is dead tshirt), and pine trees. Sacred animal: The black eagle. Commonly depicted dressed in black and silver, behind a shield emblazoned with a terrifying face.

Jason: God of clear skies and wind, daylight, law, leadership and fatherhood, heroic sacrifice, child soldiers and the military. Titles: Prince of the skies, the retired praetor, the golden boy. Sacred items: Eyeglasses, dense chocolate cakes (brownies), peaches, swords, silver wire (staples), bricks, and feathers. Sacred animal: The wolf. Often depicted with a spear lodged in his back.

Piper: Goddess of love, the heart, beauty in all its forms, charisma, music, wealth, and fame. Titles: Beauty queen, the snake charmer, the dove, the silver tongue. Sacred items: Knives, jewelry, anything colored in pink or light purple. Sacred animals: The dove.

Silena: Minor goddess of love, specifically first love, regret, noble sacrifice, grieving widows, and disguise. Titles: The young lover, the spy, the bleeding heart. Sacred item: Armor. Sacred animal: None. Often depicted wearing armor while lying on her back, bleeding.

Drew: Minor goddess of beauty and adolescence. Title: The betrayed. Sacred items: Seashells, seafoam, cosmetics, perfume, and really anything with a strong, pleasant scent, like herbs, flowers, or incense. Sacred animals: None. (side note, I made up most of this just because canon gave us Literally Nothing)

Leo: God of fire and the forge, machines, invention, humor, cookery, and runaway children. Titles: The engineer, the orphan, builder of the Argo, the forge, the devil, and the trickster. Sacred items: Tools, oil, cinnamon, cooking utensils, and bronze. Sacred animal: The dragon.

Charles: Minor god of the forge, blacksmithery, and fallen soldiers. Title: Courage of the gods, the young lover. Sacred items: Canned fruit, promise rings, and green fire. Sacred animals: None.

Tyson: Minor god of blacksmiths and the ocean, specifically underwater volcanoes. Titles: General of the Cyclopes, the rising mountain, brother of Percy. Sacred items: Peanuts (because peanut butter), shields, watches and clocks (because of that watch that becomes a shield that he made for Percy), ships, and canons. Sacred animals: None.

Grover: God of animals, nature, wilderness, music, empathy and emotional sensitivity, and the young. Titles; The protector, the searcher. Sacred items: Pan flutes, walking sticks (those crutches he used to blend in), flowers, cheese (bc of the enchiladas), apples, and any kind of plant life. Sacred animal: The goat. Often depicted as half-goat-half-human, sometimes wearing a wedding dress.

Rachel: Goddess of wealth, youth, rebellion, nature, art, hedonism and impulse, and prophecy. Sacred items: Hairbrushes, art, and art supplies. Sacred animal: The yellow bellied armadillo.

Sally: Goddess of the hearth, motherhood, writing and literature, women, and survivors of abuse. Titles: The sculptor, the author, the victor, the good mother, queen among women. Sacred items: food, especially the blue kind, and books. Sacred animal: The snake. Often depicted either holding a little boy behind her or holding up the head of medusa.

If there's any character you want me to do next, please tell me!

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privateanxieties · 7 months

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to the shadows, we return

Summary: When Frank goes to the woods of Kentucky in search of Gunner Henderson, you come along for the ride. And when the man you're looking for shoots an arrow at him, well— it isn't Frank that gets hit. Feelings ensue in the aftermath.

Words: 4.4K

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader (no y/n); hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst, blood and injury, near death experiences, whumptober 2023

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You can tell the place is liable to be booby trapped all to hell before you've even gotten out of the van.

In a way, that's good. It means you're going to be of use and Frank didn't bring you here for nothing. In another, it's annoying, because you're going to be advancing at a snail's pace the whole way and the November sun is quick in its descent.

What you're here to provide is a one-woman navigation system, courtesy of your tactical training at Quantico. It's not that Frank didn't go through similar procedures; but he doesn't specialize in this type of operation, and he most definitely isn't used to extracting his way out of a predicament delicately. When it comes to these scenarios, he's the blunt object to your scalpel.

Gunner isn't someone you look forward to seeing again, but if you're to survive this whole ordeal, Frank needs to find answers. It sucks that this is what you're doing the first time you've left the bunker in weeks, but at this point you'll take a bear trap over listening to David Lieberman detailing any more Greek legends. Frank orders him to stay put— not that he'd have come with, anyway. Three's a crowd and all that. He seems content with his current level of involvement and you can't blame him for being reluctant to (very likely) get shot at. You're not very keen on it yourself, and knowing Gunner even as little as you do, it's something you worry about more than the traps themselves.

"Let's go before it gets any darker," you say, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. Frank nods, throwing another warning look at David.

The forest is barren this time of year, and an untrained eye might give into a false sense of security. Not a lot of places to hide traps, or at least not very well, a novice might think. Not the case. Gunner, from what you were able to intuit back in Kandahar, is the survivalist type. He's guaranteed to know his way around more than a few… creative snares.

It's not long into your trek inside the forest before you spot the black wire, but its placement is so obvious and exposed that it can't be more than an early-warning system for non-threats. No one looking for traps would trigger this one. It means you're getting close, but not quite close enough that you'd pose any real danger to his territory. Which means anything you encounter from now on will definitely try to take a finger with it. Though, if you're being honest— it's more like a limb or two.

Frank is quiet and cautious behind you, never closer than a three-step interval: the ideal distance for only one of you to get snared if you both happen upon a trap. It's a wonder he's letting you have the lead. If you've known Frank Castle to be anything, then that's a stubborn mule with absolutely no respect for safety. He'll take a bullet both out of stubbornness and sheer disregard for his life. He's old-fashioned like that. The fact that you're somewhat in charge in this particular instance means that he's laser-focused on getting to the bottom of Operation Cerberus. You know he wants the truth more than anything else. It's not just justice for what was done to his family, but for what he himself has done while on the covert task force.

Personally, your only goal is to avoid dying in the name of loose ends. It was somewhat of a miracle that you even survived the hit that made yours and Frank's paths cross again. Distantly, you think you can still feel the tingle in your knuckles from the right hook you served Carson Wolf. You appreciate Frank letting you have that after the fucker blew up your apartment.

Shaking off the chill of the biting November wind, you grit your teeth against the mounting stress of not having found any traps thus far. The place should be crawling with them, which means that if you don't see them, either you're not on the right path or Gunner's contraptions have been detected by others and swiftly removed. He could very well be dead out here and you'd have no idea. It's a grim thought; if that's the case, any information will have died with him.

"Over there," Frank calls in a hushed tone, stopping you in your tracks.

You follow his line of sight to a small shape in the middle distance, and even shielded by trees as it is, you can clearly distinguish the outline of a tiny cabin. Your first thought? You're uncomfortably close to it for no aggression to veer its head. You almost expect something to drop on both your heads from the clear skies, a cartoonish outcome if there ever was one. Before you can open your mouth and voice any of these concerns, however, Frank steps away from you.

"Hey—" you warn, tone sharp, but he only holds up a hand and motions for you to follow him.

You're forced to do so against your sharper instincts. Frank knows Gunner much better than you do. They were on the ground together in Afghanistan, while you did pre-mission recon under Cerberus. The only reason you ever talked to the guy was because you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. You looked for trouble and it found you, at the same time that you found unidentified crates of smuggled weapons, which was decidedly not how the military armed its personnel. Gunner was there. He'd already been onto something, and who knows what else he'd seen. Your piece of the puzzle might be nothing compared to his, and you desperately need it if you want your life back.

Frank, you've gathered, doesn't care much for his own. He moves through the woods carefully, though with an air of nonchalance that worries given the territory. Or maybe it's trust, you figure, because it doesn't take long for him to call out Gunner's name.

"Brother, I just wanna talk!"

The backpack is deposited on a pile of dry leaves, and you watch curiously as Frank also removes his weapon, placing it atop the bag. He motions for you to do the same, and the look you throw him is one of vehement defiance.

"No."

"He needs to see we don't want to hurt him," Frank argues.

"Then I'll wait over here," you return, a grim smile scrunching up your features.

It's not that you want to hurt Gunner, but you are not opposed to it whatsoever if that's the direction this will go.

"He'll think it's an ambush. C'mon, we—" he pauses, looking away and back at you with his mouth turned down. "We came this far. We need to talk to him. Leave the goddamn gun. He's got the advantage anyway," he pleads, though you sense an amount of command in that tone.

He's right that you're out here, exposed, while Gunner could shoot you both through the rickety door or one of the windows of the cabin. You're not comfortable being unarmed, though— you haven't been in years. Although, you suppose, some things are too great to get away from with just the use of a pistol. It sure as shit didn't help when you almost got blown all the way to hell four months ago. A deep sigh from Frank rattles your hesitation. The question in his eyes is tinged with desperation, and for a brief moment, he looks younger than you know he feels. He's not accustomed to asking people for anything, and the slightest doubt on the part of those he asks for help is enough to make him regret ever thinking of it in the first place.

You don't want him to doubt you. You also don't want to make him think you don't trust him, because you do. You woudn't have gotten this far with him and David if you didn't. Sure, you didn't seek them out; they found you and in the process saved your life. Back in the war, your unit relied on you before anyone else. The purpose of reconnaissance is simple: gather intel. Make sure that when you go in, you have a way out. You liked that job and you liked feeling unquestionably needed.

Despite recent revelations, the sting of what happened before you were abruptly sent home is still fresh somehow. It lingers on the surface of your days, waking or slumbering. For almost three years, you lived with the belief that you sent your unit into a death trap, and it took nearly dying for the record to be set straight. What happened in Kandahar, that last mission that killed more than half of the Cerberus unit— it wasn't on you. It wasn't on you, and yet guilt isn't easy to do away with.

It's the same kind of guilt you're witnessing in Frank right now, with his brows pulled so tight that a deep ridge has formed between them. He's restless and full of regret, and that's what makes your decision barrel into you. You simply don't want to add the fact of your company to that list for him. If you're going to be here, you might as well be the support he needs.

Nodding somewhat unconvincingly — because you're still dreading this — you copy his actions and discard your backpack and weapon next to his own, at once feeling more uneasy than you have in a long time. The gratitude you can sense in his relaxing posture is a little too much to bear, so you settle for diffusing the tension with a warning.

"If he shoots you, I will leave your ass here."

Frank bites back a reply you can guess almost word for word, but his face tells the story his lips won't: yeah, sure you will. It's comforting to know that he at least trusts you not to abandon him, at the same time that the thought feels heavy considering your history. You owe him in more than one regard, but that's not truly why you wouldn't leave him, even to save yourself. Frank is pretty much the only family you've got left. You didn't have many people in your life to begin with, and he's lost the most important ones to rogue government dealings. The only way you'll be removed from his side is if either he is dead or you are. It's funny, the way you grow attached to someone while living in a shithole bunker and hiding from men who want to kill you.

The sun inches lower as you approach the cabin, gaze firmly set on the windows. It's instinctive to watch them, though you aren't neglecting your surroundings either. Frank calls out towards the house again, taking cautious steps to close the distance. You follow in a mirror of your previous formation, no more than three steps behind him.

The place appears desolate, but the trail of smoke from a minuscule chimney is all the sign of life you need to confirm someone else's recent presence. You're now less than ten feet away from the door, and all of a sudden your muscles go stiff. You scan the trees around you for anything you might have missed, but they are free of threats and as barren as the furnishings you can glimpse inside the cabin when you turn to look over Frank's shoulder. The wet crunch of the leaves beneath your boots is dampened by Frank calling out again.

"C'mon Gunner, it's Frank!"

Once close enough, he takes a peek inside one of the smaller windows to the right, and you take your place at his side so that you both line the wall in the least vulnerable positions. Frank, however, is taking more chances than you think he ought to by looking so unabashedly through the windows on the left side.

"Gunner!"

"Hey—" you whisper, realizing immediately how stupid that is. It's not like you haven't announced your presence plenty. "Frank, get away from the goddamn windows."

"He's a good man. He's not going to shoot me. Right, Gunner?" he says in the same tone and volume, making you turn away so you can roll your eyes in privacy, knowing Frank has a bit of a sore spot for that. It's all you have time to do, anyway, because once you've widened your field of vision, you spot a shape that wasn't there just a minute ago.

It's funny how the body can respond to stimuli before the brain has even processed them, and it's even funnier how it chooses to do things without any input whatsoever from logic or reason. Self-preservation has no business here, is what your body seems to have decided is the working philosophy for today.

Consequently, you're pushing Frank down and out of the way before you even realize you've moved. The pain, for its part, is not without delay either. Your scream echoes through the woods and you register it as if it's not your own, but some distant sound — and then you're looking down at your shoulder and realizing exactly what hit you. It makes sense that it's a carbon arrow, you think, because anything else would've been snapped in two by the force of the compound bow now aimed at you both.

You cry out when Frank's arm winds around you and hauls you to your feet, dragging you behind the nearest wall and out of the line of fire, but not before another arrow embeds itself in the window frame next to his head. He sets you down with more care this time, and though you're a bit out of it, you don't miss the sheer emotion in his face. It goes hand in hand with the lightning-sharp pain filtering through your veins and making reason depart swiftly. It's why your fingers begin to grasp at the arrow's shaft, ready and willing to expel it from your body without hesitation. They're only stopped by Frank's own hand, gently but firmly guiding yours back down to rest on your stomach.

"Gunner, goddamn it—" Frank shouts, so close to you that you can feel the vibration of his rough tone. "You proud of yourself, huh? You just shot an unarmed woman!"

This time, the eye roll is in full view and you want him to see it.

And why is it that I'm unarmed, Frank?

You don't say that, though you want to. There's something in Frank's eyes that tells you his mental state right now is veering towards self-blame, and he's not the one responsible for this outcome. The guns, however— those are his fault.

You're both defenseless.

And just like that, you're suddenly scared. It doesn't creep up on you like usual, where you wait and wait until the signs are clear that the future will hold unpleasant things. This fear is cold and dense like the woods around you. The woods you might die in. A whimper flows past your lips as your eyes go wide.

Frank takes notice in an instant.

"Shh, hey— Look at me, right at me."

His palm has cupped the side of your face, warming it up against the surging chill of the forest and giving you something to fixate on to stave off the ensuing panic. It's too bad you close your eyes so you can fully focus on the texture of his skin, because the jolt that comes in response is none too gentle. Frank is shaking you awake.

"Hey! Don't you do that. You hear? Don't close your eyes. Keep 'em on me. Just focus on me, sweetheart."

You try for reassurance through touch, but this is a mistake, you soon realize. When your hand comes up to brush along Frank's cheek, it's with distant horror that you notice it's your right hand. You are moving your right hand, because that is the only one that you can move without blinding pain.

Which means the arrow has found a home in your left shoulder. Your left shoulder, not far above your heart.

"Frank—"

He can see you looking. He can probably see how terrified you've become.

And he, in turn, becomes terrifying.

The next time he calls out Gunner's name, you don't hear Frank Castle. You only witness his shadow being left behind as the Punisher comes forward. And then you get swallowed by your own shadows.

It's a silly little dream— of that, you're certain. But it doesn't mean you can't enjoy the brush of the soft blanket under you or the gentle carding of fingers through your hair.

The warmth of the air borders on unpleasant, and you might be sweating a little more than you'd want in this scenario, but overall you wouldn't trade it for the world, being here with him. Calm. Unhurried. Ignorant of all discomfort, even as your arm has gone numb from lying on your side, gazing at the fire. Well, maybe occasionally at the fire. Mostly, you're just looking at him.

Tracing the contours of his face with your eyes and wishing your fingers could follow, you take everything in as a light euphoria settles over you. His skin is lit up by the wash of warmth from the fire, each imperfection softened— or perhaps that's your eyes' doing, wistfully hooded and completely unashamed in their observation. It feels like gazing upon him for the first and last time, like you're only truly seeing him now that he might disappear. There's a weight in your chest, neither pleasant nor concerning.

Then, his lips are on your cheek and reality slips away. You forget that this is just a dream the moment his mouth trails over your jaw and down the column of your neck, and your eyes fall blissfully closed. He's touching you everywhere, the reassuring press of his body to yours further melting every muscle and easing every current of something like pain travelling through your chest and down your arm. Absent any willpower, you lose grasp of words that aren't his name and thoughts not curved around this moment. You're as relaxed as you can be.

That's when the screaming begins.

Curtis should really make some kind of declaration soon, or he's going to lose his goddamn mind.

He hasn't said anything the entire time he's been working and— Frank trusts him. He trusts Curt with his life. But it isn't his life on the line right now, and worst of all, it should've been. It should've been him taking that arrow to the chest and bearing it only an inch away from his heart. It should've been him, delirious with sepsis and burning from a killer fever. It always should've been just him in those woods. Only him.

It's his fault. It always is. People always die at his side or because of shit he's done. He always drags them to hell with him, and they never make the journey back together. Only he ever emerges from that blackened pit, crawling out on a bruised soul to fight another day, and the carnage left behind is made up of enemies and loved ones alike.

He's a fucking plague. He's—

"Frank. I need you to focus, brother."

His eyes are wide and gaze distant; he notices that immediately upon Curt's warning, but it's hard to bring his expression under control. It's equally hard to keep his eyes focused, because they will fix themselves upon the only thing in the room that matters and his thoughts will spiral soon thereafter.

Frank's never seen anyone look so frail. He's had comrades die out in the field. He's held onto Curt while the corpsman was in the worst pain of his life — his fucking fault, again — and he's witnessed the worst crimes of humanity against one another. He's perpetrated some of those crimes. Yet everything always happened in the blink of an eye. Everyone he's ever lost, he's lost quickly. In each of the worst moments he's ever lived through, there was none of this waiting, and the hands of the clock didn't spit and curse at him for daring to have hope.

She's been looking worse by the hour. Ever since Curt got here, the medic has had to restrain him from doing something stupid like calling an ambulance. It's a wonder Lieberman managed to make the tough decision and drive them all back here, instead of going to a hospital like Frank demanded. Threatened. Gently asked with his finger on the trigger.

But David was right— it would've been over for them all if they went to an ER. The people that want to kill them would encounter no problems taking out one of their targets while she's unconscious and defenseless in a hospital bed. Frank would be arrested, if not shot on sight. And David would soon follow after them both. So, they're here.

And Frank is still losing his mind as time drags forward and the blood keeps dripping. He keeps an eye on the line between her arm and Lieberman's, delivering the life-saving substance at a pace controlled by Curtis. David's a universal donor, a fact that almost makes Frank believe in some higher power. With odds this stacked against him, it's a miracle he gets this one kindness.

Don't let her die.

The thought startles him briefly, since he meant not to ask. The words manifested from seemingly nowhere, a little echo of them bouncing around his mind. Frank doesn't have any illusions of a higher power granting him leniency, even if one exited. If anything, his mere involvement here, the fact that he cares— might be enough to entice whoever's out there to just deal him another blow, no matter who gets swallowed up in the process.

Either God doesn't exist, or he does and is an asshole. No third way around it, in Frank's view.

An hour passes, then another. Lieberman is recovering on the cot at the edge of the bunker, now with almost a fifth less blood running through his veins. Frank says nothing about how if it was necessary, it could've been more than a fifth. Substantially more— all of it, even. He's not sure Curt would approve of this perspective… murdering a man with a family just so he doesn't lose his again. He'd do it. He would. He'd do anything, he decides on a quiet exhale.

When exactly his heart made the decision to latch on this tightly — both hands, it recalls — he isn't sure and he doesn't care. What's done is done, and boy was it done without his fucking approval. It terrifies more than comforts him, the fact that he is still able to feel like this after everything he's been through. It also frustrates him, despite his best efforts, because he can't seem to let it go. Part of him knows it's because he can't escape it or her, since they're in this together. There's nowhere for him to run, no place to crawl to and wait out these feelings; they're both stuck on the other side of lives they used to have, leaning on each other for support they never ever asked for.

And why in the goddamn hell did she—

A groan. Quiet, almost inaudible to anyone whose ears aren't listening for any sign of pain. His heart jumps, and he's on his feet in less than a second. On the other side of the room, Curt startles.

"Frank—"

He blinks down at her form, eyes flitting over the bandages and blood and fragile skin.

"Frank, come on—"

"Did you give her something?" he grunts, almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. It's rougher than even he is used to.

"What?" Curt asks, taking a few steps closer.

"For the pain. Did you give her anything for it?"

Curt's hesitation is all he needs to see red.

"Her body's working through a lot right now. Painkillers would get swallowed up by everything else running through her system, and we don't have morphine—"

Frank isn't too proud of the look he throws his friend.

"You should've told me. I would've gone—"

"I need you to calm down," Curtis tries, keeping calm for the both of them. Frank, however, isn't having it. He steps into the corpsman's space, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. His voice bellows.

"And what does she need? Huh, Curt? If she needs drugs, you tell me. If she needs surgery, you tell me. If I have to take her to a real goddamn doctor, I'll do that! So what is it? What do I gotta do?!"

Frank's rage only ever takes on two forms: the destructive, when he's capable of leveling an entire enemy squadron by himself, and the stifling, when he feels as helpless as humanly possible and will try anything he can to take back control.

Curtis, for his part, doesn't give in to Frank's rage. He holds himself in that same dignified way, eyes too knowing and too kind for the words that were just thrown at him. He's seen Frank in worse states, but back then there was a war raging all around them. This bunker, though dark and decrepit and reeking of blood, is not a war zone; but Curt knows it makes little difference in his friend's mind. He understands. For hours now, Frank has been too close to reliving his worst fear, and his worst fear has always been losing those he loves. A sigh blows past Curt's lips, and then he takes a deep breath.

"Listen—"

"…s'ole."

Both their heads turn to look at the source of the faint sound, though only one of the men crosses the room in two seconds flat, argument completely forgotten. Frank leans over the makeshift bed, shoulders tense as she displays early signs of consciousness. It's like he's restless and rigid at the same time, his body a taut wire about to snap. Curt sighs again. Watching Frank like this isn't easy, but it's also not the worst thing in the world. If only it would get him to realize what everyone else is seeing, but Curt knows his friend is too stubborn for that.

"What is it?" Frank whispers, lightly caressing her cheek with a trembling finger.

Curt sees her lips move, but no sound comes out.

"C'mon sweetheart, what's wrong?"

It's almost sweet, in a way. If her state weren't so delicate, it would be almost endearing — the small touches, his protective stance over her form. The way Frank leans closer, making sure she doesn't have to strain in order to get her message across.

"… Asshole."

It's only quiet for a moment.

And then David laughs until Curtis is sure he hears something pop in the man's neck.

A/N: This was supposed to be a short and sweet oneshot. It was, of course, never going to be that. I felt bad abandoning it, though, so here you go. Not my best work, but I do love this idea. Let me know if you'd like an update from her perspective regarding what happens after! Thank you for reading and please know that I always love to read your comments.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #frank castle #the punisher x reader #frank castle fanfic

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sillymonsterman · 1 year

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ok so

people associate Nico with black cats but that completely based on his aesthetic and vibes but imo he's definitely a dog person. like big scary dogs are his whole thing he loves Cerberus he loves Mrs O'Leary

same with Percy he's such a dog person, him calling Mrs O'Leary "my dog" in the battle for Manhattan was so cute. He'd love to have one to walk and play with and teach tricks but it's not possible in their little new york apartment

Annabeth however is 100% a cat person, she thinks dogs are loud and instead prefers the quiet company of a cat. Like sitting on her bed chilling while she studies. She'd get it a little fake laptop so it can copy her while she uses hers since cats like to do that (she knows all cat behaviours and body language like she did with dogs when her dad got one and she trained it)

Jason "raised by wolves" Grace do i even have to say? hell rough house with a big husky when some people would be scared to pet it

Leo would call himself dragon person but i can see him going either way, dogs can keep up with his hyper energy and cats can keep him company and pat screws about while he works

Hazel is a horse girl through and through but she prefers cats over dogs

Frank is a cat person (literally sometimes) he'd have one sit in his lap and wouldn't move for 10 hours not to wake it, he makes every cat look like a kitten and they love him

Piper is absolutely a dog person I think she mentions having one at some point but I can imagine her walking it along the beach venting about her father and when she gets upset it snuggles up to her

Reyna is a dog person even though the metal attack dogs are the closest she's had to actually keeping one as a pet. Hylla prefers cats, this was a huge source of arguments for them as kids.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #jason grace #piper mclean #hazel levesque #frank zhang #reyna arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #legally had to

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happyk44 · 1 year

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Captivated by the idea of Nico dying in the second war. He just fully fades out, his body turning into shadows before everyone's eyes, and no one knows what to do about it. Hazel is shotgunned back to the US aboard the Argo II and no one knows what to say to her when it's all over.

She sobs.

She screams.

Jason is devastated while Frank holds his girlfriend, trying to hold back his own tears to soothe her as she wails. Annabeth's skin is cold. She and Nico weren't close but she cared for him.

It's Percy's reaction, though, that shocks everyone.

Grover understands. Annabeth understands.

They understand why the ground shakes beneath their feet. They understand why the ocean froths. They understand why his eyes are a storm. They understand why the sky thunders and pours rain. They understand the hurricane he summons.

They understand when he disappears.

Percy hunts down Thanatos, grabs him by the throat, and chains him down to the bottom of the ocean. He storms through the lobby and bats Charon away. The Styx parts at his command, fighting against him more violently than the Lethe did, fighting against him more violently than it did when he sank into it willingly. But he runs across the black sand, the dessicated souls, the shark ridges of bones, and it doesn't touch him once.

Nico startles at his father's side when Percy barges in, fighting off Furies and Cerberus. His ghostly frame shudders, glitching like a freeze-frame of his last moments. Percy doesn't even hesitate when he sees him.

They try to stop him. Hades shouts orders, shouts about rules, about decisions. Nico tries to pull himself out of Percy's grasp. He tries to say he's fine.

Percy doesn't listen. He fights through hoards of ghosts, skeletons, monsters and gods. He runs across grass, across sand, across rivers. Hades never leaves his eyeline. By the time he makes it across the Styx, Riptide is covered in ichor. He can feel Hades grabbing at the back of his shirt. His clothes are torn, his body is slashed and bruised. His muscles burn. His bones protest.

But he won't stop running. It's not until he's passed the door, when the sun is staring down at him, when the sky is blue and clear, when the air is warm and fresh, when Nico is breathing loud and clear in his ears, that he stops.

That he crumbles to his knees and holds him firm and close.

Blackjack huffs loudly nearby but Percy can't hear it. Can't hear Hades shouting at him. Can't hear Nico's complaints. Just the loud soar of relief in his thoughts, his mind finally clear. His hands are pressed to Nico's wrist, his fingers seeking a pulse that beats steady under his touch.

He exhales solidly and drags Nico, alive, alive, alive, alive, onto Blackjack's back. Ignores the stern look his uncle gives him. Ignores Nico's frustrated words. Just loops his arm around his waist and disappears into the clouds. Somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, he can feel Death being unshackled but he doesn't care.

Nico is alive.

That's all that matters.

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #happy talks pjo

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silvermoon424 · 11 months

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Twisted Tropes: An Examination of How Magical Girl Tropes are Subverted in Puella Magi Madoka Magica

(this is a long one, clocking in at over 1600 words. Enjoy!)

Madoka Magica has often been called a “deconstruction” of the magical girl genre, and while many fans refute that claim, it’s clear that it at least offers a darker twist on many of the tropes beloved and well-known in the genre. These tropes include the transformation trinket, the cuddly mascot, the monster of the week, magical girls having a secret double life, magical girls themselves being child heroines, and even the concept of why magical girls fight in the first place.

One of the biggest examples of these tropes being twisted is the magical girl transformation trinket, which in this series are Soul Gems. In more conventional magical girl series, transformation items are pretty, flashy items that enable the girl to transform from her civilian form to her magical girl form- and to be frank, serve the double purpose of selling toys and merchandise in the real world.

In PMMM, Soul Gems are beautiful Faberge egg-like items that serve the same purpose. It turns out though, that their name is very literal; they are gems that serve as containers for the magical girl’s soul (or may even be her crystallized soul, it’s not really made clear). Soul Gems are formed when magical girls make a contract with Kyubey and are the source of their powers. Moreover, because her soul has been ripped out of a magical girl’s body, her body cannot function unless her Soul Gem is within a few hundred feet of what is now her soulless husk.

In more traditional magical girl shows, transformation trinkets sometimes get stolen, misplaced, etc with no ill effect for their users except for an inability to transform. In PMMM, this is a literal death sentence unless the Soul Gem can be recovered (as displayed in episode 6, when Madoka tosses away Sayaka’s Soul Gem in an attempt to prevent her and Kyoko from fighting). The consequences of this are actually explored in one of the routes of the Madoka Magica PSP game; Sayaka is separated from her Soul Gem in a Witch’s barrier, and it takes Kyoko days to find it. In that amount of time, her body began to literally rot.

The next concept I want to explore is that of the cuddly mascot. Magical girl mascots are a common feature in many shows, from the Moon Cats in Sailor Moon to Cerberus in Cardcaptor Sakura to the many, many mascots in the Precure franchise. In all of these series, the mascots act as friends and often mentors to their magical girl companions; in most series, they are also responsible for empowering/awakening their magical girls.

In PMMM, Kyubey initially seems to be much the same. He is a cute, cuddly creature who is responsible for creating and guiding magical girls. Pretty soon however, it becomes clear that Kyubey is a sinister figure. His contracts don’t seem very benevolent; they seem exploitative, taking advantage of girls when they’re at their lowest point. And unlike the Senshi in Sailor Moon or the Cures in Precure, it quickly becomes apparent that the magical girls in PMMM are dealing with much higher stakes- at least, when it comes to their own wellbeing.

PMMM almost seems to ask the question: what kind of creature would give superpowers to children and send them to fight monsters that could very easily kill them? Even Kyubey’s appearance is highly implied to be a carefully calculated façade meant to lure teenage girls into a false sense of security and make them feel drawn to him. For example, Kyubey uses this to his advantage when he plays up his helplessness to Madoka in episode 1 when he’s being hunted down by Homura. In reality, the Incubator’s true appearance- as seen in Rebellion- are implied to be mechanical structures with giant eyes in the middle; a very alien appearance suiting their alien origins and psychology.

Speaking of child heroines, PMMM also addresses the magical girl tropes of the child heroine and the double life. In most magical girl shows, being a teenaged (or even child/preteen) magical girl is portrayed as an exciting, glamorous, heroic position. The role of magical girl is often contrasted against the mundane, yet still charming and school and civilian life. Magical girls often work hard to maintain the secret of their alter egos from their (non-magical girl) friends and family, although in some series the secret does come to light. However, the girls are usually able to enjoy a healthy balance between their personas.

In PMMM, magical girls seem more like child soldiers than glamorous heroines. Being young girls and not hardened adults, many magical girls face severe psychological trauma from the life they’re thrust into- much life real-life child soldiers. Most magical girls made their contracts without truly getting to think about their wish or the consequences of being a magical girl for the rest of their lives. And because getting enough Grief Seeds is literally life-or-death, they must spend most of their free time patrolling for Witches.

We get a good look at the toll being a magical girl takes on one’s social life through Mami’s character; supplementary materials reveal that she was once a popular girl who had a lot of friends, but after she was forced to contract in the same accident that killed her parents, she slowly lost all her friends because she had no time to do anything else but train, hunt Witches, fight Witches, etc in her free time. In episode 3, when Madoka talks about how she wants to be a magical girl, Mami outright tells her that the life of a magical girl is a lonely one and Madoka will no longer have time for things like boys or hanging out with her friends after school. Even in Magia Record- an alternate timeline that offers a much more positive look at the PMMM-verse- most magical girls are only friends with each other.

Another major example of a trope being twisted is that of the “monster of the week.” Most magical girl series have the girls fight monsters, and in many of those series the monsters are created from human beings. Sailor Moon and the Precure franchise are two standout examples of this. For example, in the fifth season of the 90s anime adaptation of Sailor Moon, people who don’t have “true” Star Seeds will turn into monsters called Phages if their Star Seeds (ie, souls) are ripped out. A similar phenomenon happens in Heartcatch Precure, with the added bonus of the victim’s consciousness eternally reliving the same state of despair that made them vulnerable in the first place. In all of these series, however, the magical girls are able to heal the victims and restore them to their former selves. Sometimes, if the monster/victim is a loved one or someone else known to them, they can even do a “I know you’re in there somewhere” plea to help them to break free.

PMMM takes the true horror of this concept up to eleven. Moreover, the victims aren’t regular people- they’re the magical girls themselves, and this fate is inevitable. Every magical girl, if she doesn’t die in battle against a Witch, will become a Witch herself who spreads despair and kills innocent people until the day she is put out of her misery by another magical girl. And she will be in misery; the Rebellion movie shows that Witches relive the worst moments of their lives over and over again and are psychologically tortured. A lot of Witches also seem to be in ironic hells. For example, Charlotte can create any dessert she wants except for cheese or cheesecakes, which is her favorite food. Roberta is surrounded by lascivious men (her familiars) who annoy her. And of course, every Witch was once a magical girl who once spread hope and saved people and now does the opposite.

It’s also made abundantly clear that once the Witch transformation happens, it’s over. There’s no saving someone. The only person in canon who is able to actually get results is Madoka- aka an actual goddess with huge karmic potential- and it comes with caveats (in one, later timeline she brings Sayaka back from the dead after she became Oktavia, and in Rebellion she is able to reverse Homura’s transformation into Homulilly- although afterwards Homura still needs to be brought into the Law of Cycles like any other magical girl about to become a Witch). In episode 9, when Kyoko and Madoka try to reach out to Sayaka’s inner self when Kyoko fights Oktavia, it ends in Kyoko’s death because nothing of Sayaka remains.

In most magical girl shows, the monsters of the week are just ineffectual mooks who are fodder for the evil organization opposing the magical girls. But in PMMM, they are mirrors of the magical girls themselves, agents of chaos and despair who present a very real threat to the magical girl’s lives- not to mention the lives of any unfortunate people who stumble across them.

Finally, I want to examine the topic of why magical girls fight in the first place. In most series, there is a group of villains who pose a threat to humanity/the Earth/etc and magical girls must oppose them. There is a very real external threat being faced.

In PMMM however, the beings that empower/perpetuate magical girls and are ultimately the threat are one and the same. Because the tragedy of PMMM is that magical girls are fighting against a self-perpetuating cycle; magical girls form contracts, magical girls become Witches, more magical girls form contracts and fight the Witches, and on and on it goes. Magical girls are their own enemy, in a sense.

I’m sure there are lots of tropes I’m forgetting, but this essay is already over 1,600 words long, lol. I might make a part 2 at some point, so give me your ideas!

#I wrote this while I was stuck at the office this week lmao #it helped keep me sane #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica #analysis #my analysis #my writing #anime analysis #tropes #writing tropes #magical girl #magical girls

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queen-haq · 11 months

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Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 25 (final chapter)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

Chapter 25

It had been two weeks since you returned home, and there had not been any contact with Billy during that time. Every night you read his letter, and all it did was confuse you and leave you with conflicting feelings. You appreciated his apology for the immense pain he caused, and there were moments when you wished you could get past everything and give into your feelings - but those feelings subsided and you longed for space again.

You scanned your empty apartment, looking so vast now that all of your stuff had been removed. Not that you’d ever been attached to the kitchen, but it made you uneasy every time you remembered that bitch Dumont attacking you in it. This place was home for only a short time, but now it was tainted and you didn’t want to be here any longer. You needed a fresh start, and that’s why leaving the city was important.

You asked for time and space… I’ll give it to you.

Billy had promised that in the letter, and kept his word. Which made your last two days at the cabin with him even more significant. But then reality had reared its ugly head, and he decided it was safe to return to New York City. Fisk wasn’t after them, Dumont was dead, and Frank didn’t know about Billy’s part in Cerberus - there was no longer any reason to hide from the world.

Lights flickered on and off at the various apartments in the building across from yours. Taking a sip from your plastic solo cup, you wondered if he was out there watching you right now. He may have promised time and space but all that meant was that he’d keep his distance. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep tabs on you. It’s who Billy was, it was part of his obsessive nature, and a facet of him you loved.

“Are you okay?”

Davina’s voice cut through the haze of uncertainty clouding your mind. “I’m fine.”

“Are you excited about the trip?”

You turned around to face your friend. “Kinda.”

“I think some time away will do you good.”

“I know, me too.”

“If you still have left anything in the office, I can go pick it up.”

“No, it’s fine. I got everything I needed.”

“Can’t have been easy,” Davina remarked.

You bit your cheek, sighing. “It wasn’t, but it was time. Frank and Curtis have a good handle on things.”

“And did you see Billy there?”

Your stomach twisted into knots at the mention of his name. “No. He knew I was coming so he stayed away.”

“He knows you’re leaving the country?”

“I texted him after. Told him to meet me at the airport.”

Davina looked concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your gaze wandering over to where your suitcases were packed. “I’m not going to let him change my mind.”

“I kinda wish he would. I hate that you’re leaving, I’m going to miss you so much.”

You sent Davina a grateful smile. “Me too. But I need to get away and just leave-”

“-all this behind,” she finished for you. “I get it, you’ve been through a lot of shit in the past few years. You need a break.”

“I need a new life.”

“Hey, you might end up meeting some hottie on your new adventures that’ll change your life.”

You chuckled. That was Davina, eternal optimist. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you finished your drinks and started doing a final check of the apartment before returning the keys.

***

You glanced down at your phone. An hour and a half hour before your flight. You were already checked in and your luggage dropped off, but you still had to go through security and it was a madhouse at the airport. Would Billy come? You didn’t know, but it was time to stop stalling. You scanned the area one last time before heading towards the security gate. It was only when you were close to the entrance that you spotted Billy. He was staring at you, watching you intently like he had a habit of doing. Your heart drummed, your stomach quivering. A part of you wanted to run to him, to abandon your plans and just lose yourself in his arms – but you couldn’t.

As you drew closer, you noted his heated glance. The scars on his face should have marred his good looks but instead he looked rugged, his imperfections making him even hotter. Billy was dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a crisp blue shirt underneath, his hands tucked into his pockets. Finally you came to a stop in front of him, ensuring there was enough distance between you two. Jaw clenched, he studied you with a burning intensity.

“So this is it. You’re leaving,” he finally spoke.

“I need to.”

“You want to,” he argued.

To anyone else his current tone would have reeked of contempt and hate, but you saw right through the façade and into the heart of a man who was hurt and afraid, a man desperate to love you. His body was taut with tension, anger screaming in his eyes, demanding your full attention.

“You don’t have to run to the other side of the world to get away from me. I promised you I’d leave you alone. I meant it.”

“Not sure I could stay away,” you confessed.

Hope flashed in his eyes for a fleeting moment. “You don’t have to.”

The lump in your throat hurt, your heart aching. “I do, Billy, I need to put space between us. I need to know that I can live in this world without you, that I can be happy.”

“You want to forget me,” he accused, his voice cracking. “Move on like I mean nothing to you.”

Unable to take the pain in his gaze, you lowered your eyes. “Maybe this could be a good thing for you too. Maybe you can-”

“What? Be the guy I was before I met you? The same guy who used to fuck everything that moved?”

It made you sick to your stomach to think of him with someone else. You gritted your teeth instinctively, glaring up at him.

Suddenly he stepped forward, narrowing the distance between you. His dark, molten eyes swept over your face, inhaling you in and consuming every inch of you with every breath. “You don’t like that, do you? Pisses you off, right? Me fucking other women?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“You’re who I want.” The intensity in his voice was intoxicating, his words tugging you towards him just as much as his hand that wrapped around your waist. “There’s no one else for me. Only you. And it’s fucking selfish of me, I know, but I don’t wanna be who I was before you.”

“You were happy then. Things were easier.”

“Fuck that!” He bent forward to lower himself to your height. “I was numb before you. You made me strong, you made me fucking feel. You’re in my blood and I’m never giving that up!”

“The last few years have been hell, Billy.” Tears stung the back of your eyes, you sniffled. “For both of us.”

“And we’re still here!” he said ferociously. “We still love each other even if you can’t say it. I’d destroy the fucking world for you and you’d do the same.”

“Too much has happened,” you whispered. “I need space-”

“I kept my distance, didn’t I? I fucking hate it but I’ve been staying away.” His other hand cradled your face, thumb swiping over your bottom lip as his gaze bore into you. “Don’t leave. Stay here. We don’t have to be together, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I can still feel you around me, Billy. You’re always watching me and I can sense it, even though you’re good at hiding yourself.” You exhaled a short breath, your fingers quivering as you traced the scars on his face. “I’m weak when it comes to you. If you’re close by, I’ll run to you.”

Hurt flitted across his face. “And you don’t want that.”

“I’m still getting over everything that happened,” you admitted. “It’s too raw, that pain is still fresh. And ignoring it isn’t gonna help me, I know that. It’ll just make me hate myself more.”

Vibrating with emotion, he leaned closer to rest his forehead on your temple. “I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” you signed, closing your eyes. You breathed him in, noting the new subtleties of the cologne he was wearing. You were familiar with his favourites but this was something new, not associated with notes that triggered memories of happier times.

There was chaos all around, crowds of people mulling around the airport but it didn’t seem to touch you and Billy. The two of you were in your own world, isolated from others.

“When I was in college I’d hear stories about people travelling through Europe, or going to Thailand and sleeping on the beach. Just getting away and having meaningful experiences, you know? I always wanted to go try something like that but back then I could never afford to travel.”

His fingers glided through your hair before fisting the strands, holding you tightly against him.

“I missed out on so many things because I was always too busy hustling.”

“Me too,” Billy admitted. “Growing up poor does that to you.”

“Now I actually have time to do this, and I want to take advantage of it. I want to do things I’ve never done before.”

“I could go with you,” he offered hesitantly.

“Then this whole trip would be about us, not me. I need this for myself, Billy.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, hugging you. For a long time the two of you remained in each other’s arms, clinging to each other.

“You’ll come back to me?” he asked after a long while.

You didn’t want to give him false hope, you loved him too much for that. “I don’t know.”

His arms tensed, you felt his internal struggle to let you leave whilst growing desperate to hold on to you. He was in agony, his soul crying out to you.

“I love you. I always will.” His words weren’t tender nor gentle. No, they were immersed in rage and grief and loss and complete despair. He pulled away from you, his eyes red with tears while he reached into his pocket to retrieve something. You stared down at his palm, staring at the familiar jewelry box, one you thought was still locked away in your dresser. He snapped it open. You hadn’t realized it was missing yet there used to be a time when the engagement ring and wedding band were gilded around your finger. He gripped your hand with his own, thrusting the box into your palm, squeezing your joined hands together. “We own each other and that’s never gonna change. Doesn’t matter if you’re here or a million fucking miles away.” Lips pursed into a thin, angry line, he glowered at you. “Do whatever you have to, but next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.” Eyes fixed on you, he shut the lid close and returned the jewelry case back into his pocket.

Without another word he turned around and stormed away, leaving you with your heart lurching and your stomach in coils.

After he disappeared from your line of sight, you took a deep breath and headed for security.

*****

It wasn’t easy at first. You were a woman traveling alone, going to places that weren’t necessarily the safest. But eventually you managed to navigate your way through unfamiliar surroundings, be cautious and blend into crowds so that you didn’t stand out as a tourist. You learned to listen to your instincts but also put your guard down a little so you could enjoy yourself. You were always great at schmoozing so that skill came in handy when you met people from various sectors of life. You hung out with locals and tourists alike, and immersed yourself in the art and culture each country had to offer.

Days went by in a whirl; you were enraptured by the beauty of it all. Despite that, there was a hollow ache in your chest that never seemed to subside. It pricked at you when you were admiring Ophelia at the museum, or surrounded by stunning elegance of the Blue Mosque, or even when you were sitting with a group of people laughing and chatting. You even volunteered in some places, more to keep yourself busy than necessity. You were comfortable with your everyday life, maybe even happy, but your heart yearned for something more.

The days turned to weeks turned to months. In the blink of an eye, six months passed by. Maybe it was the wariness from long days of travel or simple stupidity on your part, but you grew complacent about safety when you were walking back to your hotel one night and were attacked.

The man tried to grab your purse, you put up a fight, and he started kicking you when suddenly a large dog came out of nowhere and jumped up at him. You stumbled onto the ground, dazed, watching after the robber while he fled. You glanced at the dog. Seconds ago he was a growling predator and now he was sniffing your feet. He only had one eye and was ugly as hell but the damn mutt had just saved your life so the least you could do was feed him. As if reading your mind, the beast followed you back to your hotel.

A month after that night, you started the paperwork required to adopt the animal. It was a difficult and expensive process, and for the first time in recent weeks you started worrying about finances. The money you’d allocated for the trip had been carefully budgeted, but spending so much on vet bills and administrative costs wasn’t something you had accounted for.

A week ago your bank balance was half of where it should have been before the beast came into your life. Tonight, your balance had been restored to its original amount. Someone had deposited a lot of money, and you knew exactly who it was.

Billy. The missing piece of your soul. Yet you hadn’t reached out to him in months, your fear stronger than your desire. But there was no way you could ignore this kind gesture.

Your heart was pounding in your chest when you dialed Billy’s number. There was a seven hour difference between your time zone and his. You were disappointed when he didn’t pick up, he was probably at work, you consoled yourself with the idea that this was probably for the best.

Later that night you were in bed with the beast sleeping on the floor when the phone rang. You picked it up haphazardly, half-asleep. “Hmm?” you mumbled.

“You called?”

Billy’s voice was a sudden jolt to your system, knocking you awake. Anxiety surged through you. You felt shy all of a sudden, almost embarrassed to speak to him. “Hi.”

There was a pause on his end. “Hi.”

“You deposited money into my account.”

“I did.”

“Thanks.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I guess this means you have someone keeping track of my account?”

His tone took on a defensive edge. “I have to, don’t I? Not like you’d call me when you need something.”

The silence was palpable, filled with tension. It saddened you, knowing there was a time the two of you could talk for hours on end and now you could barely exchange a word with civility.

Minutes passed, the stillness grew. Yet you didn’t hang up, neither did he, the sound of your breaths supplementing the static in the call.

Billy was the first to break the silence. “I went on a date.”

It was the last thing you wanted to hear. His words were so rage inducing you wanted to scream, to stomp on your phone over and over again. You reminded yourself there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, he had every right to see other people. You hadn’t even promised to come back to New York. For all intents and purposes the two of you were done, but-

-but there was that potent jealousy rushing through your fucking nerves, ready to destroy Billy and his other bitch. “Fuck you!”

He sounded smug when he spoke next, even happy. “She reminded me of you, so I asked her out.” Billy was needling you on purpose. “Wanna know how it went?”

“You fucked her,” you seethed, gritting your teeth.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise considering he was acting so smug mere seconds ago. “Because I didn’t want her. I wanted to want her, but I fucking didn’t.”

“Because I’ve never been your type.”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

Billy had never been one to wax poetic about love or romance, but it was these rare moments when he was completely earnest that made your heart melt.

“You’re the only fucking woman I want.”

“I miss you.” You hadn’t intended to say it, not to him. Because admitting that meant exposing yourself, opening up your heart again, to him. Having hope when you should have known better. But now those carefully guarded emotions were out there and you couldn’t pretend they weren’t.

His voice was hoarse, ensconced in pain. “Say it again.”

You took a deep breath. “I miss you.”

“You sound fucking terrified.”

“Because I am.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” you confessed.

There was a pregnant pause. “You’ll come back to me?”

There was that question again. The answer he wanted meant trusting him and risk getting your heart broken again, something you were still terrified of a few months ago when he’d asked you at the airport.

The fear was still there, that was undeniable, but there was also something else that was just as intense – hope, and a desire to make things work that hadn’t existed before. “Yes.”

“For good.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Filled with so much joy and relief and pure happiness, the strain gone. “When?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “But soon.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But I need something from you, babe.” With no need to restrain himself any longer his voice grew velvety, reverberating with sexual energy. “I need to see that pretty pussy of yours.”

Immediately your body responded to his words, aching to have his mouth between your legs and going down on you. “Billy-”

“I get so hard just thinking of you. And I’ll probably get too excited when I see your sweet wet cunt but I need to, sweetheart, I need to look at you and taste you and smell you. I want to be inside you so badly… fuck… see you take my cock in, feel you squeeze me so tight…”

You moaned, you couldn’t help it, and so did he – the sound of his guttural groan so hot and sexy it instantly drove you wild.

Oh god. You could hear him, the throaty growls of pleasure from him jerking off to your voice. He was a vocal man during sex, always had been. And you fucking loved it. You missed it. You missed him.

And it was a huge relief to finally give yourself permission to admit that. Yeah he hurt you badly, and you did what you always did and hurt him back. Despite all that there were real feelings there, a true bond that connected the two of you intimately. No doubt you could be content without him but with him you could be happy. There was so much joy and wonder in the world and you wanted to share that with him.

“You have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he rasped.

“No. Tell me.”

There was a slight pause on his end, like your words took him by surprise. “You’re a goddamn tease, sugar.”

You smiled. “But you like that, don’t you? You like it when I’m on top and in full control. When I’m grinding down on your cock, Billy, teasing you with my pussy-”

There was that groan again, a raw sound of pleasure and frustration that hit just right.

“You remember the first time we had sex, Billy?”

“In the alley next to Piatti’s.”

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t our first time.”

“I remember it like it happened yesterday. I crashed your date with Roger and you were pissed at me.”

“It wasn’t a date-” You stopped yourself, refusing to argue with him about this. “It was the night you took me to the ballet.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“It was before the gala.”

“So?”

“I didn’t know the real you then.”

That was the thing with Billy. One minute he would frustrate you so much and the next he would say something so tender that you fell in love all over again. “It still counts,” you murmured.

“It doesn’t.”

“It was like our third or fourth date, I figured it was time we slept together. I was more nervous than excited-”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.

“We went to the ballet but I couldn’t figure out why you even took me there. You looked so bored during it.”

“I hated that shit, thought you’d be into it.”

“Liar. You took all your dates there, I checked your credit card transactions the next morning.”

“Oh, that’s when you started hacking into my shit?”

You chuckled. “Wasn’t planning to. Just didn’t expect the sex to be so great.”

“Yeah?” You could practically see the arrogant grin on his face. “I got you all cock-crazy, huh?”

“Something like that.” You bit down on your lip, recalling the memories so clearly in your mind. Before then no guy had ever made you come, and Billy had done it multiple times that night. He had blown your mind in every way imaginable, marking the beginning of your obsession with him.

“Is that why you fell for me? ‘cause I fucked you good?”

While a ‘yes’ would’ve been an ego boost, you also saw through the façade of his seemingly casual tone. He wouldn’t like the foundation of your relationship to be a sexual one. Besides, it wasn’t true. “No, it was when I realized how alike you and I were. There was a side you showed to the world, then there was the real you, and they were polar opposites. I used to think I was the only one who acted that way.”

“You saw me for who I really was.”

You nodded your head instinctively. “Yeah.”

“And I saw you. I knew I was fucked from that night of the gala.”

“Bullshit,” you retorted.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“You didn’t like me until way after.”

“Wrong,” he countered dryly. “That night was definitely the first time I caught feelings. And then every day after that I got sucked in more and more. Every time I thought I had you all figured out you surprised me. And I fell harder every time.”

You didn’t speak, simply digesting his words.

“My mother’s funeral, you remember that?” he prodded.

“Yeah.”

“I was all kinds of messed up that day and you were there for me, you didn’t leave. I thought that was it, you know. How I felt that day, that would be the extent of it. I was already head over heels. It couldn’t get more serious than that. Then I found you with Adam Preston.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I had no fucking idea what I was in for.”

“You had your chance to leave. I told you not to get involved.”

Billy snickered. “Like I was gonna walk away after that.”

You pondered how major milestones in your relationship were built on a path of blood and violence. Adam. Roger. Even fucking Krista. Destroying them was what propelled the two of you closer. Would it always be like that? Or would you both grow out of it?

“What are you thinking about?” he probed.

“A normal life. You think that’s possible for us?”

“Is that what you want?”

You turned to your side. “I want you.”

There was a long bout of silence that followed. “Haven’t heard that from you in a long time,” Billy said.

“I know.”

“You left, Y/N. It’s been months!” His voice took on a harsh edge. “I haven’t seen you, haven’t talked to you. You have any idea what it’s been like without you? You’re out there living your goddamn life and I can’t even fucking breathe without you! Do you give a fuck about that?”

You reminded yourself to be patient. “I get that you’re pissed off-”

“You’re goddamn right I am!”

“But I’m not going to fucking apologize, Billy.” You stayed calm, refusing to let him rile you up. “I needed space, away from you, away from New York, away from everything that happened in the last few years.” You exhaled a deep sigh. “It’s been peaceful. I’m content. I’ve done things and travelled to places I never thought I’d get a chance to. And you know what doing that made me realize?” Your tone softened. “That I want to be with you. Billy, you make me happy.”

It was impossible to know but you sensed him trembling, as if your confession had expelled a rush of relief over him. He didn’t speak for a long time. Neither did you.

“When you come home to me, it’ll be for good. I’m never letting you go,” he declared.

“I know.”

There was a lull in the conversation again, a comfortable one this time.

“So? What’s been the best thing you’ve seen so far?” Billy asked. “What’s the shittiest?”

You smiled fondly, getting ready to tell him about your adventures.

***

Two Months Later

The elevator doors opened right into Billy’s apartment. You entered his place, greeted by the sleek, sparse aesthetic of the place. His design preferences clashed with yours and that hadn’t changed. The beast was next to you, tugging at his leash as he was eager to discover his new surroundings. You dropped your overnight bag on the ground before undoing his leash.

Sonia had given you the code to Billy’s apartment but had warned you that he wasn’t expected home for a few days. You weren’t supposed to be back in New York for at least a few more weeks, but you were feeling homesick and both you and the beast were exhausted so you decided to return early. Unfortunately your plan to surprise Billy didn’t work out as expected as he was off somewhere doing recon work for a lucrative client along with Frank and some other team members.

You had landed yesterday and gone straight to Davina’s, spending it resting and catching up with your best friend. Still, you were exhausted and the beast was acting up – maybe it was a good thing Billy wasn’t here. But that didn’t stop you from being utterly disappointed at missing him. Over the past few months you and he spoke practically every day despite the time differences, and the connection between you had grown stronger, more intense. The need to see him was overwhelming, the desire to touch him so desperate that you dreamt about him every day.

The beast ran around while you took a tour of the penthouse suite, familiarizing yourself with Billy’s new home. You rummaged through his closet, running your fingers through his clothes, admiring his wardrobe. You always loved how much pride he took in dressing well, and he was just as appreciative about your efforts.

Your attention was drawn to the watches laid out in a bougie cabinet that was new to you. The vintage Rolex you’d gifted him for your second anniversary was prominently displayed, a centerpiece amongst his collection. A part of you had worried that Billy had sold the piece after the divorce but that didn’t appear to be the case. You opened the bottom drawer and found a familiar velvet jewelry box in there.

“Next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.”

Billy’s words echoed in your mind like it was yesterday. Your stomach fluttered when you opened the box to find your engagement ring and wedding band in there. Smiling, you slid them onto your finger. The fit was a little snug, you had gained a few pounds during the trip, but the rings still looked beautiful on your hand.

You noted the empty side of the walk-in closet, along with a large built-in cabinet designed specifically for shoes. This was meant for you, no doubt, and it made you feel soft and warm inside.

Home. That was what Billy was to you, and it felt right.

***

Billy dried himself with a towel before getting dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. All the while the mutt simply watched him, idly chewing on a recent pair of shoes Billy had bought. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he could get another pair. When he’d come home sooner than expected, the last thing he’d expected to find was you sleeping on the couch and a giant monster snoring on the floor beside you. The dog eventually woke up while he took a shower and now there they were, playing a game of who could stare at each other the longest.

Billy knelt down to meet the mutt at eye-level. “You know she’s mine, right? You can’t have her.”

The dumb dog stared back with its one eye, wearing an insolent expression, and then it yawned, completely unfazed by the warning. Billy pet the dog’s head before standing up and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.

You were still sleeping soundly on the couch. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, the hem twisted around your hips, your gorgeous legs were naked and begging to be touched. And then there was the flash of your black lace panties. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed the whole thing before taking a seat next to you.

It was almost eight months since he saw you last, since he touched you. His fingers wrapped around your bare calf and squeezed lightly. You moaned a little, the sound turning him on even more. Billy told himself to be patient but all rational thoughts left his head when you shifted and the t-shirt rose even higher. Mesmerized, his hand travelled up your thigh, dancing along your soft, supple skin, sneaking higher and higher until his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your panties and he pulled the fabric down the length of your legs. Yeah he wanted to fuck you senseless, but more than that he just wanted to hold you and revere you.

And so he did, with his gaze, inhaling you in.

Your beautiful body, your pretty pussy, your glorious tits.

He committed every inch of your sweet cunt to his brain, inhaling you in. He didn’t even have to touch you for you to get wet, you were turned on already when he bent down to kiss your delicate skin. You trembled against him, your body quivered. You weren’t fully awake yet, your eyes still closed, but your breathed out a moan when he swiped his tongue along your folds.

God, he missed you. Your scent, your taste.

Pushing your t-shirt up above your chest, he sunk his face into the soft curves of your stomach, his tongue delving into your belly button. Your hip arched up, causing his face to smash against your skin. He chuckled, continuing to lick his way up your body until he came to your breasts.

Fuck.

The sheer hotness of your breasts stole his breath. They were bigger than he remembered, softer, as he cupped them together. Your puffy nipples stared back at him defiantly, daring him to fuck them, and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. His mouth dragged over the hardened nubs, going back and forth between, sucking on them like a man dying for water.

You were awake now, your moans growing louder, your body writhing under him while your legs tightened around his waist.

“Billy…”

Your voice. It was the only thing that could draw him back from the brink of madness he was in. Pulling his mouth away from your right nipple, he finally met your gaze. And the expression on your face melted his heart.

Overwhelmed with feelings that rushed through him, he stared at you blankly. He couldn’t think.

You were here. You came back to him.

You were his.

The emotions on your face, the way your eyes lit up so brightly - it made his insides ache.

For months he was a dead man walking, going through life without any hope or excitement. He’d always known losing you would ruin him but even he couldn’t have predicted how alone and hopeless it would feel without you. The ambitious drive in him dissipated, because what was the fucking point of money if he couldn’t spend it with you. The first month after you left all he did was get wasted. Alcohol was supposed to numb the pain but it didn’t. After weeks of fucking around Frank and Curtis had enough and ordered him back to work. Sick of the fights and waking up with hangovers, he decided work would be a better distraction. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with Frank bitching at him.

Shortly after that you guys started talking, and the world came alive for him. Life was beautiful again, and he had a reason to wake up every morning. His drive to make Anvil an industry leader returned with a vengeance along with the desire to destroy anyone who stood in his way. All because of you.

Your index finger traced the scars on his face, your every touch a thorough reminder of how much you meant to him.

And then he saw the rings around your finger.

The engagement ring he’d scoured for months before he finally found the right one. The wedding bands you guys exchanged. His own was destroyed when his fucking world fell apart, but he’d held onto yours, resolute in his determination to put them on you again.

And now you were wearing them, on your own, without any kind of cajoling from him.

Because you were ready to be his finally.

Every night he pondered what he’d say when he saw you again. In his imagination he was a fucking poet, ready to impress with heartfelt declarations about how much you meant to him. Except now when you were actually in front of him, he was speechless. The only thing running through his head was fear. Fear that this was just a fucking dream. And instead of coming at you from a place of love, it was his fucking insecurity that drove his words.

“You’re never leaving me again.”

He expected you to be irritated or angry by his threat, instead you sent him an affectionate smile. Your hand brushed through his hair strands in a placating gesture. “Don’t be an asshole again.”

Heart full, he fisted the back of your head and pulled you close.

A heartbeat, that’s all it fucking took for the both of you to lose control. Your mouth closed over his, and he gave into the fucking whirlwind of craziness only you made him feel.

***

You felt Billy slide onto the couch behind you, scooting closer so he could resume touching you. As his hand trailed down your back, your body tingled again with excitement. He’d fucked you multiple times yet the two of you couldn’t get enough, your body wasn’t sated despite being utterly exhausted. Even now when you were in the brink of sleep, his close proximity was playing havoc with your thoughts, especially when you felt him caressing your ass. The weight you had gained during your vacation seemed to have gone to your butt, and apparently Billy loved it.

He dropped playful kisses on both cheeks, squeezing one and then the other with his palm.

“You were never an ass man before,” you remarked lazily, yawning.

“Yeah, but this ass is fucking piece of art.” The playful tap he gave your cheeks made you giggle. “And so is the rest of this gorgeous body.” His tongue trailed a path up. “Like the small of your back.” His beard scratched your skin as his mouth followed up the length of your spine. “And your spine.”

You chuckled. “Spine too?”

More kisses peppered the back of your neck before he turned you around. “And these shoulders… this neck…” His face sunk into your chest as he cupped your breasts together.

“Nothing to say about my boobs?” you teased.

“Hmm…”

Already mesmerized, his fingers danced across your nipples.

As he stared at your breasts, you stared at him, studying him. He was on his side, balanced on his elbow, and looked so deliriously happy that it made your heart explode. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time, years actually. Before you left he was always agitated and in a constant state of turmoil, but now there was a look of contentment on his face, a calmness in him that was only present before the accident.

“Checking me out?” he teased, winking at you.

“Always.” You smiled, reaching up to palm his face. “You look happy.”

He placed a tender kiss on the flesh of your palm. “Cause you’re here.” He kissed your wedding band. “Back with me, where you belong.” Closing his eyes, he stilled for a few seconds. “I can breathe again.”

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, like it always did when he regarded you with so much love and tenderness. “I didn’t think we’d ever be like this again. I was ready to walk away forever.”

His gaze darkened, like the thought of you even verbalizing those words angered him. “You’re mine. And if you think I’m gonna let you--”

You placed your palm over his mouth to shut him up. “I’m here for good.”

Billy didn’t respond, his piercing eyes holding you hostage. Sensing his anxiety, you pulled him close to your chest so his head was pressed in the crook of your neck. With his body settled atop, the two of you clung to each other in a tight embrace for a long while. “I have a gift for you. It’s in the other room.”

“Yeah,” he replied in a wry tone. “I met the gift. It was eating my shoes.”

You chuckled. “He has good taste.”

“It can’t live with us, babe.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m moving in.”

“Bold of you to think you have a choice.”

You smiled, languidly playing with his hair. “I’m not moving in without the beast. He goes where I go.”

“Beast? That’s what you named him?”

“No, he has an actual name. He just won’t respond to it.”

“What is it?”

“Ludacris.”

“Like the rapper?”

“Yeah, I like his music.”

Billy snickered. “No wonder he likes beast better.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You’re not allowed to love that mutt more than me,” he drawled, his tone unconcerned and lazy.

“Even though he saved my life?” you teased.

“Even then.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I need to go walk him.”

“No,” Billy groaned, burrowing his head into your chest so his facial hair tickled you.

“Stop!” you giggled.

“Can’t go,” he insisted, ticking you harder. “Not gonna let you.”

Your squealing must have woken up the beast because he came running into the room. Except instead of attacking Billy, he started licking him, especially when Billy started scratching his sweet spot. You watched the two of them bond, and your heart swelled with happiness. Dogs weren’t exactly Billy’s thing and you expected him to protest against keeping him, but there he was, playing with him.

“I need to get food for this one,” you said, sitting up.

Billy turned back to look at you. “I bought some a few weeks ago. Wasn’t sure what he’d like so I got a few different kinds.”

Your smile grew soft. Some of your conversations with Billy in the past month did involve the beast but you’d never mentioned you were planning to bring him home. Obviously he recognized you wouldn’t be leaving the dog behind.

You pushed yourself off the couch when he grabbed your hand.

“I’ll take Beast for a walk,” Billy offered. “You get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Good. ‘cause I’m not done with that ass yet.”

You laughed, reaching down to give him a kiss.

***

A while after you took a shower and put a slip on, you sifted through your overnight bag to retrieve your gift for him. When you sauntered into the kitchen, you found Beast on the floor, wolfing down his food, while Billy made grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove. It smelled delicious and your stomach growled in hunger. Smiling, you crept up and hugged him from behind. “Have something for you.”

His free hand snaked around your waist to grab your ass. “Besides this?” He turned off the stove before turning around in your arms. “Why the fuck are you dressed?”

“Because I’m hungry.” Retreating until your back hit the cabinet, you jumped up to sit on the counter. You set his gift behind your back, smiling at him.

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you before making a quick stop at the fridge to grab himself and you a beer. Your cooking skills had somehow grown worse, but his seemed to have excelled, especially his version of a grilled-cheese sandwich. Pleased that he remembered this was one of your favourite late-night snacks, you happily bit into the sandwich while he drank his beer and watched you eat. There were many a nights like this during your marriage, where you’d be sharing a bottle of wine or drinks in the kitchen, Billy cooking, you perched up on the counter and keeping him company. It felt like home, being here, even though it was a new place, and everything was so different, and Beast was making a ruckus in one corner of the kitchen.

Billy’s eyes were fixated on you as he took a sip of the beer, his gaze trailing from your lips to your breasts, down the length of your body before drifting up to your face again. “You don’t need clothes to eat,” he finally responded, eyes darkening again.

“So you want me to sit here, naked, just ready to do your bidding?” you taunted. You straightened your leg to reach across and touch Billy’s groin, teasing your foot along the fabric of his jeans.

Molten eyes burned with intensity, his gaze bore into you.

He was hard, you felt it, could see it, wet heat pooling between your legs at the sexual magnetism vibrating off of him right now.

“Take off your goddamn clothes, sweetheart.”

You smirked, setting the empty plate aside. A few months ago, you would have hesitated to get naked in front of him. The deterioration of your relationship had left you emotionally scarred, broken, and too insecure to let yourself be vulnerable with him. But now, you felt strong and healthy. Like yourself, though even more powerful. And so, despite the additional pounds you gained that once would have made you shirk and cringe, you took off your top and threw it aside. No bra, no intentional maneuvering to highlight your assets and minimize your flaws. None of that. You were simply naked and exposed in front of the only man who could break you. Except he was admiring you in all your glory, sheer desire on his face, his eyes glazing over at your full breasts.

“Come here, Billy.”

That seemed to snap him out of his daze. He closed the distance instantly, pulling your legs forward to wrap them around his thighs. All thoughts of provoking him left your brain as his mouth closed over yours, ravaging you, while you pulled at his clothes to undress him.

And soon he was thrusting inside of you, pounding you on the counter as your moans filled the room.

You forgot how utterly emotional and transfixing it was to have Billy inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock while he thrust hard, every part of your body inhabited by him so that there was no you or him, just one body linked together while the two of you fucked each other into oblivion.

Your nails clawed his back, his teeth sunk into your shoulder, wounds marking each other’s bodies with reminders of what the two of you meant to each other. Pain and pleasure, forever entwined.

The harder he fucked you, the more vocal you became. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Beast was barking loudly but you were too entrenched in Billy to pay any attention to reality. It was only after you reached your frenzied climax that Beast’s howls finally registered.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed at Beast, breathless and panting, still perched on the counter, your body limber and fluid in Billy’s grip.

“No, absolutely fucking not,” Billy muttered, his head buried in your neck. “You only call me baby. No one else.”

“You can’t be jealous over a dog.”

“Can’t I?”

You chuckled, amused, and then murmured sweet terms of affections to cajole him.

It took a while for your hearts to return to normal pace, both of you spent, his body weight pressed onto you while you clung to him. Still a bit dazed, you dropped a kiss on his temple. “We can’t fuck in front of Beast.”

Billy shifted slightly to look at the dog, who was staring back with a hungry expression even though he just ate. “He needs to get used to this.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you mused. “Having sex in front of a dog?”

“We fucked at a sex club in front of an audience. This is fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was different.”

“Yeah, the dog can’t talk.”

Smiling, you pulled on his earlobe. “Jerk.”

“Still waiting for my gift, babe.”

You twisted around to see where it had shifted to. Snuggled behind the bottle of olive oil, you retrieved the sachet.

“What is it?” Billy asked, eyeing the small bag.

You loosened the opening and dropped the ring on your palm.

Billy’s wedding band, a brilliant silver band that matched your own, had to be cut from his fingers before the life-saving operation he received. Since the two of you reconnected over the phone he’d mentioned how much the loss of it troubled him. While the two of you were certainly not ready for marriage, you still wanted to give him something that showed how far you’d come. It took you a while to find the perfect ring, in the end it was a two-toned black titanium ring in a jewelry shop in Turkey that captured your attention. The design was a black ring, contrasted with a silver bevelled edge, representing the history you shared and the future that was to come. Although it certainly wasn’t as expensive as the original, you liked its sleek, sexy design and you hoped Billy would too.

“You like it?” you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly nervous. You reminded yourself the ring didn’t have to symbolize anything. It could just be a gift, if that’s what Billy wanted, and not mean anything. “If you don’t, it’s okay.”

He picked it up, his face devoid of emotion. “You proposing?”

“No, it’s just a gift.”

His gaze shifted to focus on you. “I want a fucking proposal, sugar.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation. “It’s too soon. We’re not even fully back together.”

Eyebrow quirked up, he leveled you with a heated stare. “You’re not getting out of this.” He removed your wedding band and handed back the ring you gifted him. “We’re gonna put these on each other.” And he did just that, sliding the wedding band back onto your finger. “Your turn.” He splayed his hand in front of you.

Smiling, you took his hand and caressed his palm. His fingers trembled, surprising you, and you looked up to meet his eyes. The gravity of emotions in them made your heart flutter. Swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat, you slid the band onto his left ring finger.

Interlacing his fingers through yours, he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Nothing ever comes between us.”

Just then Beast barked, as if offended by the words, and you burst into laughter. “Think he feels left out?”

“That’s his problem.”

You chuckled, turning your attention back to Billy. “You love him already. Admit it.”

He shook his head ‘no’. “I’ll tolerate him for you.” His lips grazed your forehead. “Because I love you.”

For the first time since the accident, those words didn’t incite anger or disbelief or any insecurity in you. Instead, you believed him wholeheartedly and felt it with every fiber in your being. “I love you too, Billy.”

“You haven’t said that in a long time.”

“I couldn’t. Not until now.”

His eyes glimmered with hope, with love, with all kinds of emotions that made your heart want to explode. “I’m never letting you go, babe.”

Overwhelmed with feelings, your eyes watered. This was the man you loved - insanely jealous and madly possessive, invading your entire life and crushing through every walls you’d built around your heart. The same man who bought groceries because you hated doing it, took space out of his beloved closet so it could hold your precious shoes, and was now even willing to take care of your dog even though he didn’t like animals.

Billy loved you, protected you. Killed for you. And you did the same for him.

What the two of you shared wasn’t normal or healthy. Loving each other didn’t make you better people, but it gave you both purpose, a reason to fight for something more substantial than simply survival. You filled each other’s lives with hope and happiness, a rarity for the both of you.

Cradling his face, you kissed him gently. Even after everything, you found your way back to each other.

That was never going to change, and you had no regrets.

He was yours. You were his.

Forever.

The End.

A/N - Thank you to all those who stuck around and to those who recently discovered the fic. I can’t believe I finished them both - lol - but I was so genuinely attached to Billy/Reader that I couldn’t let them go. But it’s time now, I think.

Billy and Reader will always have a complicated relationship, but they have each other’s back and will never feel as strongly about anyone else as they do each other. I sincerely believe that and I hope the writing showed that as well.

There are some scenes deliberately vague or I’ve glossed over, mostly because it allows me to delve into them in the future if I choose :)

Anyway, thank you again. I really appreciate and am grateful to every one of you.

If you’d be so inclined, I’d love to read any comments you want to share :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #a woman reborn #a woman scorned universe #my fics

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