#& then he like. realizes very suddenly that he cannot survive This

[pa-pa-plasma]

i believe Danny is ADHD enough to not realize he doesn't actually have super-durability but has just subconsciously learned to minimize damage as much as possible

[lestis]

"What does it mean that whiteness is an idea and a set of values and not a natural law, as some would like to believe? Indeed, that it is an idea with consequences? We talked about whiteness as an idea with consequences so that we can see how the idea itself leads to actions, and then we can develop a plan for mitigating those actions. Because white is defined as normal or standard, the people who benefit from it (i.e., white people) often struggle to see it operating, because to them it is simply the natural order of the world. Whiteness is seemingly so ubiquitous that it appears to be invisible. This is why understanding white privilege is important. It is the act of seeing the seemingly invisible. It is the work of white people to undo whiteness. As the writer Michael Harriot has noted, 'White people who are quiet about racism might not plant the seed, but their silence is sunlight.' I do not say this to suggest that people of color have no role; we do. But we will never undo an idea so insidious alone. It begins with white people unpacking and acknowledging that the system is designed or and benefits them in ways that are solely based on their whiteness and not on any attribute that they possess as individuals—this is what we call white privilege."

— Excerpt from On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope by DeRay Mckesson, pg. 87-88.

white ppl have no concept of the pain of finding a community that you belong to and then discovering the deeply entrenched racism in said community

[solxamber]

Had the thought of "Malleus helps the prefect with their crush on a NRC student by suggesting fae courtship advice" and realized how funny it sounded but I cannot for the life of me write. So I skitter to you

So! Maybe a request of Malleus listening to how his beloved little friend has a crush on azul or idia whoever you choose, and is too anxious of rejection to ask them out, but he tries his best to help, however he most likely has no idea on human courtship, so ends up giving reader advice that mostly correlates with fae courtship rituals, maybe with Lilia helping out somewhat with advice he knows would work better for humans and maybe it can be a fem or gn reader?/lh

Fae Courtship 101: Romance Gone Wrong || Idia Shroud

In your desperation to confess your feelings to Idia, you've recruited Malleus to help you. Except his help is mildly concerning at best and extremely alarming at worst.

a/n: so sorry for the extremely long wait, i hope you like it <3

You were deep in super hell.

Not just any hell—ultra-max difficulty hell with a boss fight at the end. Why? Because you were hopelessly, embarrassingly smitten with Idia Shroud. Every time he so much as muttered a sarcastic comment under his breath, your brain turned into static noise and you felt like you were pulling on a gacha with a rate up of 0.000001%.

Which is why, when Malleus Draconia suddenly appeared in the middle of Ramshackle like a fae bat signal, you didn’t even blink. You were too far gone. You just flung yourself onto the couch and unleashed your woes like a possessed infomercial host.

“HE’S TOO CUTE,” you screamed into a throw pillow. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. HIS HAIR GLOWS, MALLEUS. HIS. HAIR. GLOWS.”

Malleus, who had been standing ominously in the corner like a living gargoyle, tilted his head. “This sounds… grave.”

“IT IS,” you wailed. “Every time I see him, I want to just—ugh, I don’t know—hand him a limited-edition figure and tell him he’s my forever player two! But then I don’t because my brain decides to blue-screen instead! I’m a romantic coward!”

“Curious,” Malleus murmured.

You sat up, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Do you even know how bad it is? The other day, he tripped over his own shoelace and I almost confessed right then and there! I can’t keep living like this!”

Malleus’s glowing eyes narrowed in what could only be described as dramatic princely determination. “Say no more, child of man.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I shall aid you in this endeavor,” he announced, placing a hand over his chest like he was about to duel a dragon in your honor. “You have my solemn vow that your courtship will succeed.”

You blinked again, the words taking a few extra seconds to register. “Wait. What?”

“I have centuries of experience in matters of the heart,” Malleus declared with a completely straight face.

“You do?” you asked, very reasonably skeptical because the only “courtship” you could imagine him doing was with a gargoyle in a medieval tapestry.

“Indeed,” he continued, undeterred by your blatant disbelief. “Shroud will recognize your worth once we present him with a grand gesture of affection.”

“…Define ‘grand gesture,’” you said, suddenly wary.

“A trophy of unparalleled rarity,” Malleus suggested with the confidence of someone who had definitely never bought a gift before. “Or perhaps a demonstration of your magical prowess. You are quite skilled at… surviving near-death experiences, are you not?”

“That’s not a talent!” you yelped.

He ignored you, his enthusiasm building like a storm. “Yes. I shall teach you the ancient fae techniques of courtship. You shall sweep Shroud off his feet.”

You buried your face in your hands. “This is going to end in a lawsuit.”

“Nonsense,” Malleus said firmly. “It will end in love.”

You weren’t sure whether to cry, laugh, or start writing your will.

You stared at the piece of paper in your hand like it had personally wronged you. Because, honestly, it had.

Malleus was perched regally on your couch, sipping tea like this wasn’t entirely his fault. “This poem,” he said, voice brimming with pride, “will surely capture Idia Shroud’s heart. It is both heartfelt and… inventive.”

“It’s terrible,” you muttered, waving the paper at him. “It sounds like a rejected NPC dialogue option.”

“Nonsense,” Malleus replied, unbothered. “It is a masterpiece of raw emotion. Shall I read it to you again?”

“No!” you said, alarmed. “I still haven’t recovered from the first time!”

It had been a mess. Rhyming “gamer” with “flamer,” shoehorning in “Player Two,” and an overly dramatic stanza about “lighting up the dark like a 5-star pull.” It sounded like a bad RPG side quest.

“I can’t give this to him,” you whined. “He’ll think I wrote it drunk.”

Malleus, ever unshaken, tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Then I shall present it to him on your behalf. I am an excellent orator.”

Your brain lagged. “You what?!”

Before you could stop him, Malleus plucked the poem from your hands and practically glided out the door. You ran after him, panic bubbling in your chest.

You caught up to him just as he cornered Idia in the library. Poor Idia looked like he was questioning every life choice that had led him here.

“Child of man,” Malleus said gravely, holding the poem like it was an ancient scroll. “Your heart has crafted a most wondrous ode to Idia Shroud. Allow me to deliver your words of passion.”

“No. Nope. Nope,” you interrupted, lunging forward.

But Malleus had already begun. “To the one whose hair glows like—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instinct took over. You snatched the paper out of his hand and, in one smooth motion, ate it.

Idia blinked. Then blinked again. “…Did you just eat paper?”

You gagged but managed to choke it down, wiping your mouth with as much dignity as you could muster. “Yup. Totally. Don’t even worry about it.”

Malleus looked genuinely offended. “Why would you consume such a heartfelt creation?”

“Because it was awful,” you hissed, yanking him by the sleeve.

Meanwhile, Idia just stood there, watching this unhinged disaster unfold. He glanced at Malleus, then at you, then at the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. “Man,” he mumbled, “I should’ve just stayed in my room.”

Malleus stood in the middle of Ramshackle’s living room, radiating regal confidence and possibly a bit too much enthusiasm for someone whose advice had caused you to eat a poem in front of your crush just two days prior.

“I have considered our previous efforts,” Malleus began, pacing dramatically, “and I believe it is time to enact a traditional fae courtship ritual.”

You squinted at him from your spot on the couch. “Define ‘traditional.’”

Malleus clasped his hands behind his back. “It is quite simple. You must leave a series of carefully chosen gifts for Idia to discover. Each one should symbolize your intentions, culminating in an offer of eternal devotion.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you said cautiously. “What kind of gifts are we talking about?”

Malleus turned to you, his expression far too serious. “The first gift must be a bouquet of midnight roses—each petal dipped in the dew of the first frost. The second, a vial of your own tears, to show vulnerability. And the third, a token of your affection, forged in moonlit flames.”

You stared at him, horrified. “Malleus, I don’t know how to say this politely, but… are you nuts?!”

He frowned, clearly confused. “Is this not how humans express their love?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Nobody’s out here crying into vials or setting up romantic blacksmith sessions!”

Malleus waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It is a noble and time-honored method. Come, I will assist you.”

Step 1: Midnight Roses

Somehow, you found yourself sneaking into the Botanical Gardens late at night with Malleus, who had insisted on conjuring the “perfect” roses.

“These roses will shine with a light so soft, it will illuminate your sincerity,” he said as he gestured dramatically.

A small explosion followed.

When the smoke cleared, you were holding a bouquet of roses that were glowing like neon signs. “Malleus, these look radioactive. Are you trying to confess or give him superpowers?”

He looked affronted. “Their brilliance reflects your ardor!”

Your ardor looked like it would set off a Geiger counter.

Step 2: The Vial of Tears

“Now, you must cry into this vial,” Malleus instructed, handing you what looked like a fancy perfume bottle.

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, utterly baffled.

“Think of your love for Shroud,” he said. “Surely the emotion will move you to tears.”

You tried. You really did. But after five minutes of sitting there awkwardly, all you had to offer was a single, pathetic sniffle.

“Perhaps I should assist,” Malleus said, reaching out. “Do you require a tragic tale? A dramatic betrayal?”

“No! Absolutely not!” you snapped, shoving the bottle back at him. “I am not sobbing into a vial for anyone!”

Step 3: The Moonlit Token

The final step involved an actual fire pit behind Ramshackle because, according to Malleus, the moonlit flames were essential.

“I shall forge your token,” Malleus declared, summoning a small inferno that nearly took out the lawn.

When the smoke cleared, you held a jagged piece of metal that looked like it was ripped off an air conditioning unit.

“What is this supposed to be?” you asked flatly.

“A medallion,” Malleus said proudly.

“It looks like I pulled it out of a scrap heap!”

You delivered the “gifts” to Idia during a moment of sheer madness, mostly because Malleus had already enchanted the roses to literally float behind you, and they weren’t going anywhere.

Idia opened his door and froze. His hair immediately flickered pink as he stared at you, the bouquet, the medallion, and—was that a perfume bottle?

“What… is happening right now?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“It’s—uh—fae courtship stuff?” you mumbled, trying to shove the glowing bouquet into his hands.

The roses sparked.

“Oh my god, is this thing going to explode?!” Idia yelped, throwing them across the room.

You panicked and shoved the medallion forward. “Here! It’s—it’s a token of my affection?”

Idia stared at the jagged metal piece. “Did you… dig this out of a junkyard?”

“NO!”

Finally, you shoved the vial of “tears” at him. Idia took one look at it, his face a mixture of disbelief and growing alarm.

“Did you just hand me a potion ingredient?!”

At this point, you were ready to die. Before you could explain yourself, Idia closed the door and slid down to the floor on the other side, clutching his heart.

“Fae Courtship...they like me,” he whispered, his hair a vibrant pink. “They're insane, but they like me.”

Meanwhile, you turned to Malleus outside Ramshackle, utterly mortified.

“I hate you,” you groaned.

Malleus only smiled. “An absolute success.”

Malleus was once again pacing in Ramshackle’s living room like a Victorian gentleman trying to solve the case of your disastrously one-sided love life.

“Here is what we shall do,” he said, hands clasped and gaze intense. “You will prepare a ceremonial feast. Cook for him using ingredients that symbolize your intentions. Lavender for devotion, honey for sweetness, and”—he paused dramatically—“a pheasant roasted under the light of the full moon. You must present it to him on a silver platter while reciting your feelings in the Fae tongue.”

You blinked. “Malleus. Where in Twisted Wonderland am I supposed to find a pheasant?!”

He looked mildly offended. “Surely you can catch one. Do you not have traps?”

“I live in Ramshackle, not the woods!” you snapped. “Also, I think Idia would keel over if I walked in with a roasted bird and started chanting in Fae.”

Malleus sighed. “Child of man, your lack of commitment is concerning.”

Before you could argue, Lilia materialized from who knows where with his usual mischievous grin. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he drawled. “This is incredibly entertaining.”

You glared at him. “Lilia, I’m in emotional distress, not a soap opera.”

“Exactly why I’m here,” Lilia said, flopping into a chair. “Malleus, your suggestions are delightful, but I’d prefer not to have Idia hospitalized from sheer terror. Allow me to offer some… balance.”

Malleus frowned. “Balance?”

“Yes,” Lilia said. “Like suggesting something sane, such as gifting him a rare figurine from one of his favorite animes. It’s thoughtful, meaningful, and most importantly, won’t require a midnight hunt.”

You thought getting a figurine would be easy. You were wrong.

You tried everything:

Azul offered to get it—if you signed a contract that basically gave him first claim on your future firstborn.

Ruggie smugly said he could “procure” it but asked for a kidney as collateral.

Just when you were about to accept your fate as figurine-less, Kalim swooped in like the sunshine prince he is, offering to buy it outright with his seemingly infinite wealth. “You want it? I’ll get it! It’ll be fun!” You could’ve cried.

Bless Kalim and his endless generosity.

When you finally gave the figurine to Idia, you were an exhausted wreck. It had taken days, multiple negotiations, and at least one near-death experience (Ruggie’s "payment terms" were aggressive).

Idia stared at the box, then at you, then back at the box. His hair flickered pink as his mind tried to process the situation.

“Is this—?” he started, his voice cracking.

You nodded. “It’s that limited-edition one you mentioned.”

Idia froze, clutching the box like it was the Holy Grail. “H-how did you even afford this?!” he stammered. “No offense, but have you seen Ramshackle?!”

“Bye!” you squeaked, panicking and bolting out the door before he could say anything else.

Malleus, watching you sprint away from Ignihyde like a spooked animal, nodded sagely. “Another success.”

Lilia shook his head, cackling. “If nothing else, this is fantastic entertainment.”

Meanwhile, back in his room, Idia sat on the floor, staring at the figurine. His hair was a fiery pink as his brain short-circuited.

“They remembered,” he whispered. “They actually remembered…”

Ortho popped into the room. “Big Brother, are you okay? Your vitals are—”

“LEAVE ME TO DIE IN PEACE!” Idia shrieked, clutching the figurine like a lifeline.

It was safe to say the figurine worked.

You were lying on the couch at Ramshackle, contemplating your life choices and whether Malleus or Lilia was the greater threat to your sanity, when Ortho appeared at your door.

“Big Brother has summoned you to Ignihyde!” he chirped, far too cheerful for your emotional state.

“What did I do now?” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face.

“I think it’s good news!” Ortho said, clearly hiding something.

Given that this was Idia, “good news” could mean anything from “I found a new game to play” to “you’re about to be the first human test subject for my latest invention.” Against your better judgment, you followed Ortho.

When you entered Idia’s room, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hair flickering an anxious shade of pink. He didn’t even look up from his console, which was just a black screen because he’d obviously forgotten to turn it on in his panic.

“Uh, thanks for coming,” he mumbled.

“You did send your little brother to fetch me like I was being summoned to the Underworld,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

Idia winced. “Y-yeah, sorry about that. I panicked, okay?”

You sat down on the floor across from him, waiting. His hair crackled as he kept fidgeting, his gaze darting everywhere but you. Finally, he took a deep breath and blurted out:

“So, I’ve been analyzing your recent behavior, and it’s, uh… come to my attention that… maybe you like me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift from mumbling to outright accusations. “Analyzing my behavior?”

“Yes!” he squeaked, gripping his knees like his life depended on it. “The weird flustered thing you do when I talk to you, the whole ‘anime figurine extravaganza’ that nearly killed you—don’t think I didn’t hear about that, by the way—and the fact that you’ve willingly talked to me more than once. It all adds up!”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked increasingly panicked.

“I mean, if you don’t like me, that’s fine! I’ll just—uh, go smite myself with a lightning bolt or something. Lemme call Malleus; he’ll be thrilled to help.”

“Idia—”

“But!” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “If you do like me, I… I think I should tell you that I… uh, I like you too.” His voice cracked on the last word, and his hair flared bright pink. “A lot. Like, an unhealthy amount of 'a lot.’”

You sat there, stunned, as his words hung in the air.

“And, uh, I’m confessing because… well, I’m not sure I’d survive another one of Malleus’s courtship rituals. No offense, but I think he’s trying to kill me. Ortho heard he suggested you bring me a lock of your hair dipped in a mild poison to solidify our bond?!”

At that, the floodgates broke. Exhausted, drained, and done with this entire saga, you leaned forward, cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him. His hair crackled as it flared a near-neon pink, and he froze like a system on the verge of a crash.

When you pulled back, you sighed. “Thank you for finally putting me out of my misery.”

“I—wait—what—” His brain was clearly blue-screening.

“Idia,” you said firmly, shaking him gently. “Yes, I like you. Yes, this whole thing has been a nightmare. And yes, if I have to call Malleus one more time for ‘help,’ I might smite myself.”

He blinked rapidly, finally rebooting. “Oh. Cool. Uh, can I—?” He gestured vaguely, his face red as a tomato.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, pulling him into a hug. Somewhere in the distance, you were pretty sure you heard Ortho cheering.

Back at Diasomnia, Malleus scribbled something into his journal. “Another successful courtship facilitated by me,” he muttered, thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Lilia said, chuckling from his spot on the couch.

Masterlist

[mellowsaturns]

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

[thesilmarillionblog]

ANOTHER LIFE

Summary: You find out that you're pregnant with Soldier Boy’s child, but knowing what Butcher’s wife has been through and that you won’t make it like her, he doesn’t want you to keep it. You try to convince him that you’ll be okay, but you need to face what’s to come.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI), angst, hurtful, language, pregnancy, threat, pregnant sex, blood, mention of abortion, mention of death, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5807

A/N: English is not my first language.

With a bashful smile on your lips, you looked at Ben, whose eyes were locked on the positive result, while you joyfully looked at the pregnancy test with your hands stopped on your tummy. Since you were already married and had been living together for a while, you were confident that this news would strengthen your bond even more.

He merely stated, “We are not keeping it,” glaring at you and clenching his jaw when he saw your hands halt on your tummy. “I'll find a doctor for the abortion.”

You stood up, gently inquired, “Why?” and put your hand on his arms to stop him before he could leave the room.

You didn't understand why he was acting this way at all, because you knew he had always wanted to start a family. Right now, you ought to be enjoying the news.

Your touch tightened his muscles, and he took a deep breath. In an attempt to ease him up, you stroked his cheek, but it felt as though he was building barriers between you, just as on the day of your first meeting.

“We already know Butcher's wife's fate, don't we? You wouldn't survive such a thing.”

You smiled at him a little, realizing that he wasn't against the baby; rather, he was only worried about you. He was upset by your ease with the issue, though, as he could see that you didn't give a damn about what he said.

“Becca did not pass away during childbirth.” You attempted to comfort him. “For me, it won't be any different with good doctors.”

You glanced at him, hoping that, for the moment at least, he wouldn't be obstinate about this and would instead trust you.

"Are you even aware of what you're saying?" He questioned you in a disapproving tone, pushed your hands away from his face, and spoke out. "Just because she made it through doesn't imply you will too. What will happen, do you know? You'll be torn apart, limb by limb, by this nasty beast. You will fucking die and suffer.”

You said to him, “Ben,” in an attempt to soothe him. You gave him a hug, despite the way he shoved your hands away. “Together, we've overcome many obstacles and established a family of our own. Despite what we've been told, there was no possibility that I would become pregnant.” You squeezed his hands and remarked, “This baby is a gift.”

“A gift? It is a fucking punishment and a fucking pain on my ass already,” he grunted and hugged you back tightly.

“Stop calling the baby 'it',” you snapped out of nowhere. “Why are you being like this?”

“It is just an annoying fetus, a virus, not a baby,” he said harshly, looking at your stomach with irritation as if you were sick. “You’re going to get an abortion.”

You pushed him away from you, tears welling up in your eyes, and he withdrew his hands. You had doubts about whether he would ever reconsider.

“I won’t, Ben,” you said firmly. “I won’t just fucking murder my child. You cannot force me to do such a thing."

“You won’t murder it, but it fucking will murder you,” he yelled at you suddenly.

You took a step back, your lips parted in shock at the expression on his face. He hadn't yelled at you in such a furious manner in a very long time. You put your hands on your tummy as if he would hurt you.

His attitude toward you and the baby was crushing your heart, so you sat down on the bed. How could you even kill your own child by going under the knife because Ben believed you wouldn't survive? You were aware that childbirth always carries some risk, even in cases where the kid turned out to be normal and not a supe. Any woman who aspired to motherhood was ready to take a risk.

You said, “Why do you think I'm weaker than Becca—that she survived but I can't?” You were unsure of which was worse—his hatred for your unborn baby or his perception of your weakness.

Seeing your wet eyes, he softened his tone and said, “It's not that I think you are weak or something. It, fuck, I mean the baby, will most highly have the exact power I have; the baby will do anything to get rid of from your womb when your water breaks,” he continued, sitting by your side and taking your hand in his. “Just like I do when I'm really furious or stressed, the baby will explode if it becomes even slightly stressed or when it senses your distress. The reason Butcher's wife survived is that the baby didn't explode to escape her womb; instead, it just wanted to be out. It will be worse for you.”

You listened to him with terror, not having a single idea how and when he did learn the details about Becca’s childbirth. You were overwhelmed trying to imagine the scenario he created. That must be the reason he was acting so strangely and coldly in the last two weeks.

“How do you know such things?” You whispered, not knowing how to react.

“I already knew that you were pregnant before the stupid test. It was clear from your scent and all,” he said, looking at your locked hands. “And I searched for details about Butcher’s wife’s childbirth. We should be glad that we have an example in front of us.”

“I can’t do this, Ben. I want to keep the baby,” you sobbed, feeling pressured. “I can’t go under the knife.”

“Why are you so fucking selfish?” he asked. “Did you even fucking listen to me?”

“We don’t even know it for sure. What you’ve said is just a theory,” you said, hoping he would change his mind or at least listen to you a bit.

“It’s a fucking possibility, a high one, and it’s enough for us to get rid of this monster as soon as possible.”

“I won’t do it, Ben. I can’t have an abortion based on what you think is going to happen in the future,” you answered with a firm voice.

Even though he was able to control his abilities and the power hidden in his chest, he felt as though he was losing control of himself and his temper after witnessing your selfishness and obsession with a tiny fetus. Ben stood up and moved away from you.

He sternly remarked, “If anything happens to you, if you die in childbirth, I will kill the baby, I fucking swear.”

“Have you gone insane?” You sobbed as you realized how serious he was, and your eyes widened in terror. “How are you even able to say something like that?”

“I don't give a fuck.” He was very serious as he snapped, “I won't even blink.”

Whispering softly, “But then I’d die for nothing,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. He was not giving you a chance, but he was not giving a chance to your unborn baby either.

“Huh,” he said, biting his lip, giving you an insidious smile. “That’s something we can both agree on, sweetheart.”

After a few months, Ben spent most of his time at Vought, or God knows where, rather than respecting your decision, accepting the situation, or having a conversation about it. Despite all your efforts to talk to him, he hardly spent any time with you in the house. After two months, he no longer argued with you. He scared the shit out of you when he nearly blew up the house during your argument. Though it was selfish of you, you made the decision, knowing that he was very concerned about you and that it was hurting him to consider the uncertain future that lay ahead of you. If only he knew how much the distance in his eyes hurt you.

Your belly started to show up, and it was already too late for an abortion, which was something you didn’t even consider once. It was almost the fifth stage of your pregnancy, after all. Ben had stopped fighting with you, and you went to the hospital all alone, even though Annie and Kimiko offered to come with you.

You waited for Ben to come home the day you learned that you were pregnant with a boy. You thought that would make Ben’s heart at least a bit soften and make him a bit more eased or even glad when you shared the news as he lay beside the bed. However, he didn’t even say a single word. He just closed his eyes and let you stay on his warm chest. You were too close yet too distant.

“At least, could you say something?” You whispered to him, and he just took a deep breath and wrapped his powerful arms around your body. You begged him again, “Please,” but he kept his eyes closed and put a bit distance between your belly and his, trying not feel the growing life inside you. He considered your baby like an enemy, a monster.

Even though you were eager to enjoy your pregnancy together and fix things with him, he was acting as though you were waiting for your execution day. You knew that he was still angry with you, and he was right about it considering your uncertain future in front of you, but there was no need to live like strangers while you were married. His support and tenderness would mean a lot, at least to ease your distress.

Your unbalanced hormones weren't helping at all, as it had been a while since he touched you, and he had avoided doing so since your belly had begun to swell.

“I’m tired. Sleep,” he said firmly.

“Could you please at least come with me to the hospital for a regular check once a month? You don’t have to be inside of the room.”

“I don’t want it.”

He probably didn’t have an idea about how much the way he talked so sharply and coldly broke your heart, but you didn’t give up.

“Why not?” you asked softly, lifting your head to look at him, trying to talk about it.

“It’s just that I don’t want it,” he said with an irritated voice, cutting it short. “Are you going to force me to do something I don’t want to do again?”

You approached him and again pressed your cheek against his muscled chest, whispering, “No. But I'm so lonely.”

It was impossible to get through to him because of his stubbornness, even though you needed him to show you his love and care—at least to touch your belly and comfort you.

“How come you would feel that way?” He asked in a mocking tone, “You have your baby boy, right?”

“Can you believe that I don't even experience nausea? The doctor says it's nothing out of the ordinary, but he's not making this pregnancy physically more difficult for me or anything. He's going to be a docile boy.”

You occasionally told him about your baby, even though he didn't want to discuss anything except your personal health.

After a moment of silence, “Good for you,” he simply said. “He will be ready to blow your womb up with kindness when the time comes.”

In an attempt to soothe him and set the tone for this conversation, you added, “Ben, I won't die in childbirth, I promise you. Let's try not to make things more difficult for one another than they already are. It won't be easy, but everything will work out in the end. We must confront our future together as a married couple.”

“I told you to get rid of it, but you made every choice by yourself already, selfishly, and now you want me to act like everything's okay when it's fucking not,” he said angrily.

“Ben,” you puffed, and faintly gently stroked his muscular chest, saying, “You're not even listening, and I'm tired of arguing.” Actions speak louder than words, after all.

His eyes narrowed, and he followed your hand as it slid down his strong chest. Feeling the firmness of his body through his sweatpants, you glanced at him expectantly. All you could do was stare with anxiety as you worried that he would stop you again. But he was, you could say, enjoying himself there.

You moved quickly to go on top of him, and as you dropped the nightgown's hanger, exposing your breasts to his view but not your swollen stomach, you waited anxiously for his response. Although he didn't enjoy being the bottom or letting you ride him, he wasn't going to stop you at that moment. Your skin trembled from the cold, even if the room and his body were warm.

He was watching you with an undreadable face, not even touching you, but you knew he desired you. His shaft under you was proof.

“I’ve missed you a lot,” you said as you started to move on top of him, rubbing your pussy against his hardness.

“I can see that,” he said with a rough voice, and he urged your hips to go faster while his eyes were fixed on your breasts. “Do your best, and I might consider fucking you deep and good.”

As your hormones were kicking you hard in the last few days already, you were lost in pleasure and felt yourself getting wetter each second, and your nipples got hard while you were grinding on his hardness with swift movements.

When you sensed that your climax was approaching, you let out a loud moan. It didn't take you long to lose yourself in pleasure because he didn't touch you soon enough. But just as your lips parted with pleasure, he pushed you away from him and got on top of you. You groaned in protest as you lifted your hips to create friction again, but he stopped you turned you so that you were facing the sheets.

With a quick motion, he tore off your panties, and you could feel him taking out his hardness from his sweatpants. Your stomach wasn't flat, so you tried to move a little to find a more comfortable position, but his powerful hands and massive body prevented you from moving even an inch.

You felt he was stroking himself into your wetness from behind, and he groaned, “Stay still; don't move.” With a forceful motion, he spread your legs, and under his strong hands, your pussy throbbed with eagerness.

You pressed your face against the sheets and moaned desperately. You tried to move your hips a bit, urging him to take you already. You didn’t need him to prepare you at all because your body was already craving his presence.

“Ben, please,” you begged him, trying to face him, but he pushed your head and chest a bit hard against the sheets.

“If you want me to fuck you properly, you’ll do as I say,” he said as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and pushed it inside with a rough move.

When he swiftly pushed his shaft inside of yours, you both moaned loudly. Your moan was half in pain because of his roughness and the way he pressed you against the sheets, even though you were wet enough to withstand his hardness.

He placed his bisceps on both sides of your head as he began to rapidly fuck you. He groaned as he fucked you and you felt your pussy already clenching around his cock. You arched your ass up feeling his hot panting on your neck.

You tried to concentrate on the pleasure; you kept your eyes closed, trying not to ruin the moment as he was finally taking you. Even if it hurt to feel your swollen belly pushed hard to the sheets by his heavy waist as he fucked you harder every second, you didn't stop him, tried to endure the pain.

However, as he was moving on top of you, he slammed his massive body into your back even harder, lost in pleasure, and his harsh motions and weight caused you to groan in pain. You shut your eyes, and your hands frantically grasped his wrist. You tried to comfort yourself by holding your belly with your other hand.

He instantly stopped, swearing as he allowed you to take a moment after sensing your discomfort and hearing your agonized gasp. You could feel the pleasure and pain in your legs shivering a little.

“Fuck. Are you alright?” he asked in an anxious tone as he became still within you.

You quickly nodded to him in response, saying, “I am; don't stop. Just try not to press your weight, please,” you said, keeping one hand still on your stomach as you shifted under him a little to allow to catch your breath.

Ben cursed and gazed at your hand, still on your swollen belly, as he came to his senses. As he moved on top of you to a more comfortable and safe position, he apologized in a quiet voice and gave you a firm kiss on the forehead. Your heart warmed with his tenderness for you and you smiled. Maybe you should force him to hurt you a little bit sometimes to make him show his tenderness.

One of his hands stopped on your stomach after he waited a little longer on top of you to give you a moment. Now you were waiting for him on your hands and knees. That was the first moment he touched your belly. Feeling his large, warm hand, you gasped and laid your hand on his as he began to pound into you again, more gently but still rough.

When he shifted a bit and hit your sensitive spot with a rough move, you moaned loadly and your walls clenched tightly around his cock as you orgasmed as soon as he groaned on top of you, saying, “Don’t come yet.”

Your walls continued to clenching around his cock, and he immediately began to spill inside of you as he kept cursing. He filled your pussy with his thick white ropes, and he said, “You can't even fucking listen to me just once, right? I might start to think that you're doing it on purpose to make me crazy, sweetheart.”

He pulled out his cock very carefully when it softened inside you. You felt incredibly satisfied, and bliss came over you because it had been a long time since he took you like this.

He turned you back and gave you a firm kiss on the lips. You couldn’t stop smiling between his warm kisses. You felt your body and hormones finally ease.

“Rather than keep fighting, we should have been doing this, you know,” you murmured, and you put your hands around his back. “These hormones are making me crazy.”

He chuckled softly, gave you another kiss on the forehead, and looked at your swollen belly with an unreadable face.

“I don’t even know how to fucking kill myself if anything happens to you,” he said, looking into your eyes with a pained expression. “I can’t live without you.”

You felt your heart broken under his sincere confession. You knew he was extremely concerned about you, and that was the first time he was this honest with you. Shifting under him and taking his hand, putting it on your belly, you kissed him as you said, “Why do you still have trust issues? I’m more strong than you think. I promise you, Ben. This baby will change everything in a good way. You’ll be the best daddy. You’ll see it.”

You gave him a playful smile as he moved his hand vaguely on your belly.

“Yeah,” he sighed and raised his eyebrows, looking to your body. “Best daddy to threaten an unborn baby with death and murder. What a start, right?”

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss before you shifted under him and leaned your back to his chest.

“Well,” you said, taking his hand and putting it on your low belly. “It is a start at least.”

You closed your eyes when a sudden tiredness came over your body, and you held his hand tighter.

He pulled you to his body like you would vanish at any moment and murmered, “I’m sorry for everything I have done to you.”

“I am not,” you said with a smile on your face. “Stop overthinking, Ben.”

Ben hardly left the house, and you two began to spend the entire time together. You were worried by Vought's extreme interest in your pregnancy, and you and Ben took steps to ensure that the media was kept informed about what was going on. It was frightening and distressing to think that Vought and other devils looked after your child. That was one of the reasons you needed to endure childbirth and be strong.

You were taken to a special Vought hospital, which was a bit far away from the capital, when you reached the last stage of your pregnancy. His energetic and unpatient kicks started to hurt a lot, but you didn’t tell Ben not to stress him out any further. The energy in his chest was getting out of control lately, and there were times he nearly blew up. So, it was suggested that he not come to the hospital until you delivered the baby. You needed him to be with you so badly, but it was better for him not to see your pain.

Thankfully, Kimiko and Annie were there for you and took care of you. You didn’t want to be alone with those doctors at all. They were Vought’s doctors, after all. The boys made sure Ben didn’t blow up, and they watched over him all the time. Annie told you that Ben wanted to come nearer to the hospital at least, but you knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he kept calling you every hour, checking on you if you were doing okay though it was you that reassured him everything would be alright soon and as though he was the one to deliver a supe baby.

When your water broke in the middle of the night, there was no pain like it. Annie and Kimiko did their best to help the doctors while you were being prepared. You screamed at her not to call Ben.

As you saw the doctors prepare to cut open your stomach, Kimiko held your hands firmly above your head. Ben's theory about the baby blowing up inside of you crossed your mind as you tried to remain composed and control your breathing. You also tried to keep your mind off the pain, but before the doctors could do anything, you felt powerful kicks on your lower abdomen that tore you open and made it clear he was done with patience and wanted to be out as soon as possible. You weren't even slightly helped by anesthesia. Even though you clamped your jaw and closed your eyes so you could ignore the blood all over the bed, you couldn't help but scream.

You heard Annie gasping in shock and saying, “Oh, god. I can’t watch this.”

The knives in the doctor’s hand were everywhere in your stomach while they all tried to calm you down, but your pained screams filled the whole hospital. You felt you were losing your consciousness, even if you did your best to keep your eyes open. All you thought about was Ben at that moment and the whole thing you'd been through together. You didn’t want to prove him right about you being weak. You wished he was there with you so badly that you cried even harder.

“Take him out!” you screamed at the doctors while you were crying, and you fisted your hand till you bled your palms while Kimiko watched everything in terror in her eyes.

You watched in amazement while you saw the baby finally coming out of your stomach, which was ripped open, but you couldn’t stop smiling despite all the pain. His little chest was glowing a bit, but he wasn’t crying. You overcame the worst, you told yourself.

The room was filled with blood, and so was your baby. You wanted to reach for him, but you couldn’t manage to find the energy. You heard Annie, and the doctors were saying stuff, though you didn’t understand what it was about at all. Losing your consciousness, your eyes shut. You needed a long rest.

While doctors did their best to keep you alive for hours, it was already morning. Annie finally found the courage to call Butcher and tell him about your condition. She didn’t know how Ben would respond through the phone and wasn’t even sure if he listened to her completely, so she thought it would be better if Butcher talked to Ben.

“Congratulations, Soldier Daddy Boy,” said Butcher with an anxious voice to Ben as he entered the room. “Annie just told me Y/N delivered the baby last night.”

Butcher gave Hughie an exchange of looks while Ben’s chest started to glow as he shut his eyes.

“How is she?” Ben growled, waiting to hear the worst.

“Hey, calm down,” Billy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. The smoke was already rising from his chest, ready to blow up the whole building. “She’s not dead.”

“I’ll fucking kill you all if you are lying.” Ben pushed Butcher, with a harsh move, to the nearest wall as he tried to calm himself down. He didn’t know how long it would take him to wake up if he blew up right there. All he needed was to see if you were really okay.

Hughie gave Ben an awkward look and murmured, "Congratulations for..." but before he could say anything more, Ben pushed him against the wall next to Butcher and said, “Fuck you.”

Ben looked at the doctors, who were attempting to explain that it would take two or three months for you to fully recover, with a homicidal glare when he realized that you were dead asleep on the bed. But it wouldn’t take long you to get your consciousness back. He wouldn't even consider twice about killing those fuckers in an instant if you didn't need them.

They all told him that you were pretty strong, but it didn’t mean anything to him right there while you were half dead on the bed. His supe ears focused on your weak heartbeat behind the glass. He struggled for hours to stay calm and not explode, but it was getting impossible.

“Hey,” Annie said with an anxious voice while she gave a look to your motionless body on the bed and the look on Ben’s face as he stood without doing anything, lost in thoughts. “Would you like to see your baby? He is pretty cute.”

“Fuck off,” Ben simply said.

Hughie and Butcher approached Annie, and Hughie said, “May I see the baby? I already bought a toy,” with a shy smile on his face.

Annie gave him a warm smile and a nod and led him to the room at the end of the corridor.

At the end of the three weeks, Ben finally relieved himself a bit, seeing that your condition was getting better and your heartbeat wasn’t weak anymore. He refused to see the baby until he was sure you were finally recovering. Butcher and the others didn’t leave Ben alone, since his nerves were pretty sensitive. In addition, he knew Hughie and Kimiko were spending their whole time with the baby in his special room. Though he didn’t see the baby once, he kept asking doctors about his health and everything else. He knew he was doing alright; he was a supe baby after all.

Annie had already left the hospital a few days before. The current state of Vought worsened by Ben's sudden disappearance. The public and media weren't informed. Butcher, Hughie, and Kimiko stayed with him and with you to make sure Ben didn't lose his temper.

Ben sighed and went to visit his son when his supe hearing focused on his small mumbles. Even though it was becoming late, it didn't appear like he was sleeping. He knew you didn't suffer for hours only to see you ignore your own son, since it wasn't his fault for being a supe baby after all.

Ben saw his son watching the spinning toy reach up to his crib when he came into the room. Based on the silly lullaby that came out of it, it was most likely Hughie's present.

The moment his son began to make little noises, Ben's heart warmed. When their gazes connected, he smiled, as though he recognized his dad. He stretched for his arms, his little chest glowing. It's likely that his son sensed the familiar scent of his father.

“Hey there,” Ben murmered, his eyes fixed on his son’s chest, which kept glowing and lightening the dark room. He took him from his cradle carefully. “You’re not going to blow your daddy up, right?”

However, his chest started to return to normal as soon as Ben took him in his arms and gave a kiss to his little forehead.

“You know,” he said with a playful tone as he touched his son’s cheeks. “You are lucky your daddy’s the strongest supe in the world, but you are even more lucky your mommy is pretty strong too.”

Ben chuckled when he saw his son begin to play with the small eagle symbol on his suit and quickly rip it off. “It seems like you're a strong little man. I wonder how I'm going to sew it now.”

Ben took one of the toys from his son’s cradle, and he kept kissing his little forehead while he left the room. “Do you want to see your mom?”

Butcher and Hughie were eating sandwiches in the middle of the corridor, and Butcher smirked when he saw Ben approaching with his son on his chest and a toy in his other hand.

"Well, well, well,” he said, giving Ben a side smile. “Big bad daddy finally remembered he has a son.”

“Call me daddy again when I’m deep in your throat,” Ben murmered as he looked at your sleeping form behind the glass.

“Are you kissing your son with that mouth?” Butcher said while was drinking coke.

Ben simply said, “Fuck you,” as he led his footsteps to your room.

He didn't feel comfortable or at peace at all when he spent weeks keeping watch over your tired body in bed. But at least you were alive and would be well soon enough. Your heart was starting to beat stronger already. Last week, you even opened your eyes twice, but you fell back asleep right away.

Ben's small son's head turned as if he sensed his mother's presence before he moved his body from his chest to yours. Perhaps it was like his dad's scent that drew him in, or his supe senses in general.

He reached his little arms to your body on the bed immediately as he mumled excitedly, but Ben kept him in place.

“Hey,” said Ben, trying to distract him with the toy. “Let your mommy rest, little eagle.”

While Ben tried to calm his son down, his son's small chest started to glow while he still tried to reach his small hands to your body. He was trying to get rid of Ben’s hold. It made Ben a bit nervous for the first time in his life. So that was how people felt about his blowing-up issue when he was about to lose his temper.

“You really want to challenge me?” Ben asked. He chuckled and got closer to your body, letting his hands touch your cheeks. But he held his hands carefully, remembering that his son was a supe who didn’t have any control over his strength. “So be it.”

Feeling soft hands on your face, your eyes started to open again. You didn’t know what day it was or if you were alive or dead. You frowned at your eyes, feeling tired as hell. Your stomach also hurts a lot.

“Ben?” You murmered with a small voice, trying to stay awake and not fall asleep again.

All you heard was him arguing, but you didn’t understand what was going on at all. Then you heard him saying “fuck” and pushing a button beside your bed. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your eyes met with the most beautiful face you’ve seen in your entire life, and you gathered your whole strength to touch your son’s face as he kept mumbling while his hand was touching your cheek as though he were trying to talk to you. He was worth everything you've been through.

“I am okay, just tired,” you murmered as your eyes watered. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe he’s mine.”

“Actually, ours. He is and is also pretty strong. He ripped off my fucking suit,” Ben chuckled as he stilled your son with his big hands, sitting on your bed carefully. “I have missed you so fucking much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you said giving him a smile. “I told you I would survive, right?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, squeezing hand hand softly. “I’m so fucking glad you were right about everything.”

“Stop swearing, Ben. The first word he’s gonna say will be ‘fuck’ because of you,” you giggled. “Are you kissing our son with that mouth?”

He chuckled and said “I’ll do worse things with that mouth,” as leaned and gave you a firm kiss.

PART 2

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A/N: My idea was to kill the reader from the very beginning, but she convinced me not to do it. I always thought fanfiction and the characters had power over the writers, not vice versa. I guess fanfictions write themselves; maybe we, as writers, create nothing at all. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! Check my masterlist for other Soldier Boy / Reader stories.

[tunamayuuu]

ranpo edogawa go

i know this is about asking for my thoughts and hcs but i wanted to draw ranpo from memory so here u go c:

ok so this is coming from a fan who stopped catching up with bsd for like months. so forgive me if i miss details about ranpo, i'm still getting back into bsd

thoughts below the cut

he's a first fav! i got into bsd because i genuinely thought it was a detective solving mystery anime... nevertheless, i found ranpo cute and clever!! i'm usually drawn to the detective types and his straightforward way of going things is so entertaining and admirable for me, who relates more to poe who's more complicated in going about things...

ranpo's interesting to me because while he is confident in his skills and lets it be known to anyone and everyone who comes across him, that confidence is also fragile to me?

we're introduced to this image he's built over the years, but overtime, these pages were the most memorable to me whenever i think of ranpo

his confidence feels so solid until you take a closer look and realize that confidence can't survive without other people to validate this image he built up. it reflects such a common human experience for me and to me, is what humanizes him?

he's so good at what he does! he's skilled and that skill saves his found family plenty of times! as well as many civilians! and he clings on to that accomplishment as his sole identity most of the time

this is not just a fear of what he doesn't know, that second "i don't know" is so personal, as if his identity is shattered because for once, the very thing he's good at can't solve the situation in front of him.

if you ask me, the most intriguing thing about him is how he carries himself, how he carries his identity.

onto hcs!

insane sweet tooth but has times where he's picky on the sweetness level of the dessert he gets

doesn't have textural issues with food, but may struggle with combined flavors in his food ("if it's sweet, it should stay sweet! if it's salty, it should stay salty!" those flavors cannot mix into one food item unless it's savory food)

keeps a comb in his pocket to style his bangs as spiked out looking as possible! probably gets gifted said comb by mushitaro so he can take care of the knots in his hair

does not care about personal space but may feel one way or another about someone suddenly invading his personal space

loves to give oddly specific nicknames to his co-workers at the agency to remember them better

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 25 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

“Surrender to me. I will eat this sweet pussy every morning for breakfast. I will be your slave.”

You don’t believe him, of course, but there is a growing desperation in his pleas that fills you with warning. He’s been patient with you, but you wonder if someday this man will not snap.

He has you tied up again.

You’d watched him produce the red ropes earlier with resignation, but surprisingly, no fear. You realize that you have arrived at a place of relative numb, where you have accepted he will not satisfy you without your submission, but you trust him not to really hurt you.

Drive you absolutely batshit insane, maybe. But not hurt you.

You’ve had time to think about it, and you know there are so many things he could have done by now to really win your compliance. He could have beat you. Starved you. Drugged you. All the usual dirty tricks men have used to keep independent women in line over the millennia.

He has not so much as spanked you, really, except for that once the other day, and even you know that had been child’s play.

More and more, you have come to understand that this man has been through it. He’s told you more about his brutal past, curled up with his head in your lap, spilling his soul to you while you stroked his dark hair. You have discovered that once he feels safe, the taciturn Mr. Wick actually has a lot to say.

If you hadn’t been sleeping beside him, the signs of PTSD might have escaped your notice. But after over a week in his non-stop company, you have woken beside him when he’s riddled with night terrors, his strong hands gripping your body hard enough to leave bruises. Sometimes he zones out, and you know he's not really seeing the room you're in. 

After hearing about his training (as a fucking child soldier!) and the things he had to do to survive over the years working for the Bratva, trapped in a cycle of violence he had little power to escape or control, you honestly think it’s a miracle that he’s come out of it as intact as he has—and goddamn if there isn’t a part of you that wonders if you cannot bring him back.

You should know better by now, than to think you can fix a man with your love. It’s a mistake you’ve made before, in your younger years, and you should know that nothing lies down that path but disappointment and heartbreak. But…what else do you have to do with your time?

Take up knitting?

You had watched him with a distant fascination, as he looped your wrists in the cord, securing them with beautiful knots before affixing your spread arms to the metal headboard. You had thought the curled iron design of the bed to be very pretty, but now you understand the form of it is perfect for knotting ropes in various positions.

You’re not sure how long he’s been torturing you with his tongue, bringing you right to the edge licking your clit with his fingers buried inside you, before withdrawing right at the last moment. He always fucking knows, even when you do your best to remain still as a stone. You have been going through your days in a constant state of low-burning arousal, perpetually wet with slick and uncomfortably swollen. You feel where his body has been every time you sit down, keenly aware of what he’s done, and what he hasn’t allowed you.  

“My poor darling,” he continues to taunt you, taking a break to nip at the inside of your thigh, your soft flesh already riddled with little bruises. “Why do this to yourself, when with three little words I could set you free?”

You cannot hold in your ragged sigh. “It’s kind of nostalgic really, just like my first boyfriend in high-school. Getting fucked constantly with no real hope of satisfaction…”

Wick responds to this with a snarl, the way you knew he would. Jesus Christ but his teeth are sharp. Suddenly he sucks at your clit with a vengeance, making you squirm and cry out in surprise. Of course he stops before you even have the chance to make use of the friction.

“I do not want to hear about the other men you’ve had in your life,” he cautions you. “I’m the only one who counts now.”

“Could have fooled me.”

When he gets on his knees with a dark look, you do feel some satisfaction. You’ve learned if you piss him off enough, he’ll try to punish you by taking his pleasure and leaving you hanging. At this point, you’re just relieved that it’s over.

“That smart mouth needs filling,” he growls, guiding his tip to your lips, and you let him fuck your face, sucking his glans messily with a swirl of your tongue the way you’ve learned drives him mad. The only time he catches a hint of teeth is not your fault, but his, in his enthusiasm for trying to shove his cock down your throat. It’s not long before he cums, spilling hot seed across your tongue. Some of it dribbles down your chin, and he wipes it across your lips with narrowed eyes, daring you to spit it out.

You’re foolhardy, but you’re not stupid. You lap it from his finger like a good girl, watching the post-orgasm glaze take over his midnight dark eyes.

The monster will be sated, for a little while.

You’ve bought yourself time, but no real relief.

[abdy-18]

If I could write fanfics I would write a one-shot of the theory that [redacted]'s family was the ostanian version of the op strix, the mission ended and although we can't know if Twilight's father still loved his wife or not, I'm sure he did love his son only that he normalized violence in his education due to the time in which they lived ( [redacted] must have been a child around the 40s).

This is very long, I over thought again.

The "ostanian op strix" ended and here are three options:

He knew that Luwen was going to be bombed shortly and still decided to leave [redacted] and his mom behind knowing that they would probably die or be seriously injured

or he didn't know and went to Ostania thinking that they would be much better without him, since he was aware that he fought a lot with his wife and that his son preferred his mother over him, only to later learn that Luwen was bombed, that there is a record of his wife's body but that his son, like other children, is missing.

Or he had planned to leave Westalis, but not yet. Maybe that "work trip" he had was actually a spy mission that was going to take a few days, His plan was to finish that mission, return to Luwen, spend a few last days with his family and that is why he promised [redacted] that when he returned he would take him to the fair, then finally he would return to Ostania thinking that they're going to be better without him.Unfortunately his plan failed and he never got to say goodbye to [redacted] because he never got to return to Luwen.

In either case, he assumed that [redacted] had died because from his point of view, what chance did a little boy as weak and cowardly as his son have of surviving in a war without the care of an adult? If he didn't die from one of the bombs, then he must have starved to death.

When he arrived in Ostania, he burned his things from his previous identity (like Twilight when he was no longer Robert), but before throwing away his old wallet with westalian money and fake documents, he opened it for a moment and realized that it still had a small picture of his son, he immediately regretted opening it because he is very conscious that he has to get rid of ALL the things from his life in Westalis, but now he simply cannot burn the picture of the little boy.

He folded the photo and since then, he never saw it again, (he hid it more than Twilight hides his spy equipment in the Forger house lmao), but suddenly one day, by fate, he sees a ghost on the street, a blond man too similar to his deceased son to be coincidence, although he is trained and knows his memory is perfect, he tries to chalk it up to bad memory since it's been over 20 years since he saw the boy.

(I think Yuri did tell his boss about his sister's husband, so he knows the “ f***ing Loid Forger” by name, but he doesn't know what he looks like since Yuri only has pictures of his sister and if he has any pictures of his sister where there's Loid he probably cropped him out of the picture XD).

He doesn't interact with the man, he only saw him in the distance for a few seconds, but he still finds himself unsettled by the creepy similarity, so, for the first time in 20 years, he pulls out the box in which he's had hidden the only reminder that he ever had a family, the photo was bent, torn, crumpled, dusty and generally in very bad condition, yet he can still see the boy's features in it and although the ink on the lettering is smudged and almost fading, he can still read “[redacted] - 19xx” on the back.

Now, here I use a plot convenience to create some scenario where for some reason he lose that photo and for some reason Yuri finds it and realizes it belongs to his boss, he would see the photo and say something like “hey he looks a bit like the bastard Lotty” but I don't think he would suspect anything immediately since:

[redacted] was very young in that picture.

The kid's name is on the picture

It belongs to his boss, and I don't think he would question his superior.

So dismiss the similarity as a curious coincidence.

I'd have to think of a scenario where this makes sense, but let's imagine that Yuri keeps that photo in his coat with the intention of returning it to his boss the next day but he has an accident like I don't know, gets hit by another truck XD but this time he gets badly hurt so he has to go to the hospital.

They call Yor to go see his brother, but seeing her so worried and crying, Loid decides to accompany her for the mission™.

When they arrive, they hand Yor her brother's belongings in a bag, she puts it on her lap and asks the nurse if she can go see him, she says yes to which Yor quickly gets up and drops the bag on the floor, but she is in such a hurry that she runs away and doesn't notice.

Loid is left alone in the living room waiting for his wife, he notices that Yuri's things are on the floor and decides to pick them up, then he notices the small paper that came out of his jacket, so he takes, and when he sees the photo he sees the boy he hasn't seen in his reflection for years.

And naturally he almost fainted.

Because regardless of the identity of his father, Twilight would not be happy that he is alive, he would see him as a threat because naturally his father knows many things about him, the worst thing for a spy.

----_-

If someone for some reason is inspired by this and wants to write something, be my guest, because I seriously can't write 🥲

Thanks to anyone who has read all this jsjsj

(My first language is not English, sorry is there's mistakes🫢)

[rottenrosethorns]

Promise | Part Two

Pairing: RE4!Leon S. Kennedy x co-worker!fwb!afab!Reader

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut 

Synopsis: It’s been days since Leon left, the last you heard from him being rumors about the mission. Over the span of those days without him, you start to realize how much you craved Leon’s comfort beyond physical. But, why is he suddenly acting so distant? 

Word Count: 9.2K

Warnings: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI; mild slow burn?, allusions towards depressive episode, crying, slight depictions of blood and gore, Y/N used once, reader smokes cigarette, reader consumes alcohol, switch!reader x dom!Leon, slight humiliation (reader receiving), slight overstimulation (reader receiving), pet names (love, baby, beautiful), fingering (reader receiving), rough fucking, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking (reader receiving), choking (reader receiving), oil massage (reader receiving), manhandling (reader receiving),mutual aftercare, swearing

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!! A huge, huge thank you for everyone's love for Promise pt. 1. I really hope everyone enjoys the second part. I appreciate everyone’s patience and apologize for taking so long to finish this. I cannot tell you how many times I reconstructed the plot lol 

Taglist: @navreads @navstuffs (sry i couldn't tag your side blog)

__________

- masterlist -

- part one -

__________

You don’t remember the last time you slept. Well, of course you slept, every human needs sleep to recover. Maybe you should say that you couldn’t remember the last time you fully recovered. Regardless, all you knew was that feeling of uneasiness whirling in the pits of your stomach. 

Ever since Leon left for the mission, you couldn’t help but worry. The constant feeling of fear consumed your thoughts 24/7 as you daydreamed about what horrors Leon could be facing and whether or not he had the skill and luck to survive. The devil that people call “the little voice in my head” tormented you with narrative images of Leon’s death. Some scenarios were soaked with gushing blood, some were infected with whatever mutated virus, and some – the one you deemed the worst out of all – was simply a missing person, no body to be found whatsoever. 

You spent your mornings in bed, laying there for what felt like hours only to fight off the grogginess with some cheap coffee or energy drink before heading to work at the very last second possible without being considered tardy. Normally, you were a very diligent worker, investigating virus cases or testing for possible antidotes. But these days with your mind clouded with Leon’s absence, you often caught yourself stumbling over work. Your supervisor scolded you for simple mistakes, ones that you would’ve never made before. You were slow and sloppy, and Leon was all to blame. 

If you thought your performance at work was bad, your personal life was even worse. Once work was over, you’d go home, maybe make a sorry excuse for a meal, watch an episode or two of whatever show you had queued, and get ready for bed. When you entered your apartment, you’d think of when Leon would push you towards the closest wall, pining you with his hips as he grinded his restricted erection into your hip bone. When you cooked, you’d think of when Leon slid his hands down from your waist to pick you up and trap you on your granite countertops. When you ate, you’d think of when Leon bent you over and railed into you from behind over your kitchen table. 

Fuck. 

You’d hope some TV would ease your mind, but the audio quickly became white noise as your thoughts drifted towards Leon. On a day where you were feeling particularly lonely, you closed your eyes and layed yourself in bed with your hand creeping under the waistband of your pants. You sighed in relief, reaching the spot which craved your attention. With your imagination, you pictured Leon in front of you. His eyes watched as you did your best to satisfy yourself. You listened to his ghost-like whispers as he guided where to put your fingers and how much or little to apply pressure. With your fingers, you tried your best to follow his silent commands, doing your best to imitate his technique. For an hour, you remained like that, pushing and hoping to reach a climax, but even imitation could never compare to the real thing. Nothing could compare to Leon. So, you found yourself cleaning up, although barely lubricated and heading to bed to ignore the pitiful aching between your legs. 

You didn’t know when – if – Leon was coming back, all you knew was that somehow, this became routine for you. 

“Hello?? Hello???” Poppy waved a hand in your face, “Earth to agent? What’s got you so distracted?”

Startled, you jumped back, not realizing that you’d been staring blankly at your laptop screen for some while. You cleared your throat, finding the almost empty cup of whatever drink left behind and chugging it, “Shit, sorry. Need something?”

Poppy looked at you with concern, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I do. I need to know what’s up with you. Are you okay? You’ve been totally out of it these days.”

“I’m fine,” You touched her hand, grateful for her concern, “Just tired.”

“Trouble sleeping? I don’t want to be mean, but those eye bags are killer. Not the good kind.”

Rubbing your eyes, you sighed with the weight of last night’s lack of sleep on your shoulders, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You know I care for you, right?” Poppy softly smiled, “And, that you can tell me anything, and I mean anything, if you need to.” 

You nodded, reciprocating her smile, genuinely thankful for her friendship. Although you weren’t ready to share your experience, you were glad to know that you had someone to go to if you ever felt particularly sentimental, “I know, thank you. Just got some stuff on my mind, but I promise I’m okay.” 

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself back into work mode, “Did you still need something or just come to visit?”

Only then, you noticed the collection of papers in Poppy’s hands as she gave them to you. Looking through them, your heart leapt to your throat as you instantly recognized Leon’s handwriting on the mission reports. Stunned, you felt like all of time ceased around you as a loud buzzing sound pierced your ears. It was only until Poppy’s soft voice pulled you back into reality, “He’s in the infirmary, the doctors are watching him for any signs of Las Plagas just in case Luis’s laboratory was faulty. We’re supposed to go see him and run some tests as well.” 

You were out the door quicker than Poppy could finish, leaving her to trail behind you as you rushed towards the infirmary. You could hear Poppy shouting for you to slow down and wait for her, but your mind was racing with Leon and the need to just see him. You heard a soft crunch, looking down to notice that the reports had been crumpled by your death grip. You felt light headed, out of breath with anxiety, almost like your heart was about to burst through your ribcage. Turning towards Poppy, who just caught up to you, you pleaded, “Which room is he in?”

“The one on the left.”

In your mind, you wanted to dash towards his room, slam the door open, and jump into his arms; however, your legs felt like jelly, each step slower than the previous as you paced to a standstill just in front of the closed door with your hand frozen on the handle. From the little window in the door, you saw Leon laying on the bed, draped in a hospital gown and tucked underneath the thin, white top sheet. Next to him, his bloodied uniform folded in a sealed bag, waiting to be sent off to forensics. With your free hand, you covered your mouth as tears silently ran down your face. The sight before you was freighting, nothing like any type of fear you felt before. Leon, bruised and battered, became your worst nightmare. The image of his dormant figure etching into your memory forever. 

“Is he…” You gulped, swallowing down the lump in your throat before taking a shaky breath. It didn’t matter as you couldn’t bear to finish your sentence. 

Poppy grabbed your hand, the one that’d been resting on the door handle and pulled you to face her. She cooed at you to take deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling with you. You hadn’t realized you were starting to hyperventilate. Once the heavy pressure on your chest dissipated, Poppy spoke, “He’s okay, just sleeping. His body is recovering from the lack of food and sleep. The doctors are closely monitoring him, and we’re waiting for his results.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and thanked whatever higher being for protecting Leon. As much as you wanted to look back at Leon, you were scared to see him in such condition again. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him return from a mission, but this was definitely the first time you’ve seen him return so beaten up and in a hospital bed. 

A tight hug from Poppy pulled you from your thoughts. You’d meant to ask what she was doing, but her warm embrace reminded you of your lack of social interaction and sent you into another fit of tears. Your lips trembled as you buried your face into her shoulder and graciously accepted her embrace. You mumbled as coherently as you could about how scared you were, how worried you were, and how lonely you’d been without him. Unknowingly, you’d just confess your feelings for Leon. 

Poppy consoled you, bringing up a hand to pat the back of your head and caringly brushing your hair, “You haven’t told him?”

You shook your head, “I don’t think I realized until now.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”

You pulled back, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Everyone can tell that you two have chemistry,” Poppy laughed to ease the tense atmosphere, “Sorry to say, but you two aren’t so good at hiding your not-so-secret glances at each other.” 

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you blushed, “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.” 

“It wasn’t, you just confirmed it for me,” Poppy snickered as you scowled. She rejoiced with an empathetic look in her eyes, “You know you should tell Leon how you feel. We almost lost him this time, you might not get to say how you feel about him.” 

You pressed your lips together, hesitating before speaking, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Getting rejected?”

“And, how would you know that? We’ve seen the way he treats you, you both go home after work together, what else do you need?” Poppy reasoned, “How could he say no to you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Your voice came out as a hushed whisper, as you looked towards the floor and found the patterns on the tiles more interesting than your answer. 

Poppy looked over at Leon’s sleeping body, “You can practice when he’s not listening, and then, when you’re ready, you can tell him how you feel without being scared.”

You followed Poppy’s eyes, once again landing on Leon’s body. Internally, you debated whether or not you should follow Poppy's plan. You bit your lip with anticipation, “What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Poppy nodded, a brighter smile blooming on her face. She wiped your tears and fixed your hair, “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

You thanked her, giving her one last hug before turning back towards the door. You took a moment to breathe before bracing yourself and entering his room. The hum of the machines buzzed through your ears, blurring the deafening thoughts racing through your mind. Soft yellow hues from the overhead light illuminated Leon’s scratched up face. Slowly, you moved towards him and stood near the edge of the bed. You stared at his hand, a bandage wrapped around what you assumed to be a wound obtained from catching a knife. Hesitantly, your fingers touched the bandage before gently snaking them to hold his hand. A sense of relief washed over you as the warmth of his hand reassured he was alive and well. Although he was sleeping, you felt him grip your hand just a tiny bit tighter once yours was in his, causing your lips to quiver again and slow tears to fall. 

“Um, hey,” Your voice cracked, “Sorry. Um, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I really missed you, and I was really worried about you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. Uh, I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, but I care for you. I want you to be happy, I want you to be healthy, and-” 

You gulped, “And…I want to be the one to make you happy.” 

“I…” You took a deep breath, “I love you, Leon.”

And, mumbling through his slumber, Leon whispered, “I love you too, Ada.” 

…..

It’s been three days since you showed up to work, having a poor excuse of catching a nasty cold. In reality, you were perfectly fine if you considered an aching heart to be okay. Like a teen whose crush just kissed another person, you spend the last three days lazing around in your bed, barely getting up to eat and seldom showering. You basically lived in your bed. But as nice as this was, you couldn’t run away forever. You had a day job, and you didn’t want to risk getting fired. So, you shuffled towards your bathroom and hopped in the shower, not having the confidence to look at your appearance through the mirror’s reflection. Even though it took most of your energy to walk to the shower, you instantly regretted not showering sooner with the relief of the hot water soaking your frail body. You worked through your matted and tangled hair, cleaned up your hygiene, and took some time to think about random shower thoughts. After all, that’s all you’d been doing with your time – thinking. Though no matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out any answers to your questions: Who was Ada and when did he meet her? 

If you recall correctly, you were the only person that had been hooking up with Leon. You confirmed this because he rarely spends nights at others’ places, having preferred to be in the comfort of his own home. Plus, you never saw any indications of other female visitors at his place. So, if you and he had been exclusive for the past few months, that limits the time frame down to Ada being way before your time and not a recent person of interest. So, then the question changes to whether Ada was an ex-girlfriend and whether Leon still had feelings for her. 

Who were you kidding? Of course he still had feelings for her, he confessed his love to Ada afterall. Even though he didn’t know that it was you that had confessed to him, Leon subconsciously kept Ada close to his heart. 

The only thing to confuse you was why had Leon treated you so nicely beforehand? He was always around you, kept you company, walked you home, memorized your favorite foods, and so on. What was the reason for all of that if he hadn’t been interested? Was he leading you on? Toying with your feelings? Had you over-thought his actions? 

You groaned, frustrated at the endless loop of questions in your head. With some new found anger, you stepped out of the shower and started your care routine. You kind of missed having a normal person routine as much as you despised how much effort it took to make yourself deemed socially presentable. Fortunately, your journey to work was uneventful. You did your best to avoid crowded areas, mostly keeping your eye out for Leon. You were not ready to face Leon, knowing that you’d freeze up immediately. You were trying to lay low, keep yourself from being too suspicious. 

“What are we looking at?” 

Fuck.

You jumped through your skin, nearly having a heart attack. You spun around abruptly, having been face to face with the very person you’d been trying to avoid. You stood there, frozen and mouth agape and you tried to muster up a coherent sentence to speak. 

Once he realized you were struggling, Leon popped his brow, “No hello?” 

“Hello?”

Leon nodded, slowly, “Hi. So, how’ve you-”

“Um, I gotta go!” And, you sprinted towards your office, leaving Leon staring confused at your retreating figure. 

You spent the next few days avoiding Leon like that by running into the bathrooms whenever he passed in the hall, ducking under the table if you both decided to go into the food hall, and sitting on the opposite side of the table in the briefing room for mandatory meetings. You didn’t care if you were blatantly obvious that you were avoiding Leon. You knew he was smart enough to know that, but you weren’t ready to confront him. Thankfully, Leon hadn’t pushed you to meet with him, but he did send you many concerned glances whenever you both were in close vicinity. Until today, at least, when a light knock on your doorframe took you out of your work. 

“I thought you said you were leaving early today, Poppy.” 

“She did leave.” 

Your head snapped up, “Agent Kennedy-” 

“Oh so, it’s agent now?” Leon questioned, welcoming himself into your office and closing the door behind him. His eyes narrowed and expression stern, indicating that he was fully serious. Admittingly, he played into your game for a while, but he grew tired of you running away. He too wanted answers to his questions. 

You looked away, not liking the way your heart ached when he looked at you with that condescending expression on his face. It made you feel like you disappointed him, “This isn’t very work appropriate.” 

“Is there something wrong with co-workers visiting each other?” Leon questioned, sitting himself in your guest chair. 

You countered, “It’s after work hours.” 

“That hasn’t stopped us before, has it?”

You bit your lip, having no rebuttal against him. Silence cloaked the room as the both of you waited for someone to say something. When he knew that you weren’t willing to give a response, Leon pushed the conversation. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Leon stated blandly, “Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit,” Leon spat, “I’ve seen you run into bathrooms, hide under furniture, and make up lame excuses whenever I’m around. What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing, you don’t have to worry about it,” You buried your face in your hands, already feeling a headache forming from the result of a long day, “Please, Leon, just-”

“What happened to Agent Kennedy?” Leon sassed, his tone indicating that he was choosing to be petty. 

You groaned, “Please, don’t make this any harder for me.” 

“And, you don’t think it’s hard for me as well?” 

You scoffed, “Why would it be hard for you?” 

Leon pressed, “Because the person I’m fucking is avoiding me like I still have Las Plagas.” 

“So, is that what I am?” You laughed in disbelief, “Just someone to fuck?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on?” Leon grimaced at his own words, but continued to stand his ground. 

“We didn’t agree on anything, Leon. Shit just happened.” 

“And what about now? What changed?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. One moment we’re no strings attached and the next moment we’re eating pizza like we’re a couple. You confuse me, Leon. You lead me on, and I don’t know how to feel about you,” You took deep breaths, trying your best not to overreact or become too emotional, but you were failing. 

“And, how do you feel about me?”

“For fucks sake,” And, you snapped, “I love you, Leon! Can’t you fucking see that!?” 

The cloak of silence engulfed you two again, only the sounds of your ragged breathing piercing through the air. As you caught Leon’s eyes for the first time, you finally broke down with that familiar lump in your throat and blur in your eyes. 

“And, I’m fucking heartbroken sitting here infront of you, acting like everything’s okay when it’s not. I feel like my heart is ripping out of my chest, because I confessed my love for you and you don’t feel the same,” You sniffled, trying your best to hold your tears back as they trailed down your face. 

“You confessed to me? When?” Leon questioned in disbelief. 

“When you came back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me make this easy for you then,” You paused, “Who’s Ada?”

Leon’s eyes widened, jaw slightly slacking. He didn’t answer you, just staring at you as he internally debated what was the best answer. But, he didn’t know what to say to you and even more so what to say to himself. 

You purse your lips, wiping away your last tears before confidently speaking, “Exactly, so until you figure out your feelings, please don’t talk to me.” 

…..

It’s been two weeks since you and Leon last talked – or rather interacted. There were no longer any lingering looks, no hiding behind furniture, and no running into bathrooms. It wasn’t an effort to stay out of each other's lives anymore, it rather came naturally as you both had differing missions. During your time apart, you took much time to think for yourself – healthily at that – and unravel the situation. Beneficially, you were doing slightly better than before such as eating more and sleeping more. But ultimately, Leon was still on your mind 24/7. And, being invited to the President’s gala dedicated towards rewarding and celebrating the researchers and agents who contributed to saving Ashley did you no justice in keeping your mind off Leon. 

“Doing okay?” Poppy found you sitting alone in the corner with a large glass of champagne. 

“Yeah, just taking a break,” You sighed, craning your neck to loosen up the tense muscles, “I don’t know how much longer I can take people coming up to thank me or tell me how great my research is.” 

Poppy laughed, popping some of the table candy into her mouth, “What? Don’t like being the center of attention?”

You itched at your face, skin feeling heavy with the makeup that covered your dark circles, “Not when I have to dress up and act prim and proper all the time. Like, could we have not done this in an email or something?” 

Poppy took her flute of champagne and gently tapped the rim against yours, “Cheers to that, I could be home watching TV.” 

You both shot back your drinks, relishing in the sweet flavor and bubbly texture. You and Poppy chatted for a moment before she was taken away to meet more people, leaving you back in your lonely corner. Eventually, after sitting for a while, you became bored, having already met with most people or just on low energy in general. You didn’t want to take another flute of champagne, fearful that it’d make you more sluggish than you already were, so you motivated yourself to make your way to the snack table and hoped that something citrus-y could wake you up. 

Just as you were about to grab a scoop from the fruit bowl, a voice from behind you caught your attention, “Hey! You’re the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped, right?”

Turning around, you came face to face with Ashley, “I had a bit of help.” 

“Thanks, you saved my life,” Ashley smiled, hugging you with appreciation before taking your hand and dragging you towards another part of the gala, “Hey, let me introduce you to my dad!” 

“Actually-” 

You tried to protest, but you already found yourself face to face with the President. 

“Ashley! So, that’s where you ran off to. Who’s this?” 

You turned towards the man, body instantly stiffening with formality, “Mr. President.” 

Ashley smiled, “This is the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped.” 

The President gave you a nod, “Thank you for saving my daughter.” 

Feeling awkward in the presence of such high authority, you just smiled and fiddled with your empty fingers. Before you could excuse yourself, Ashley perked up, “Dad look! It’s Leon!”

Fuck. Just what you needed. 

The President turned towards Leon and gave him a firm handshake with much more adoration and affection than what he gave you, “I knew I could count on you, Leon. You’re a valuable asset.” 

You and Leon connected eyes for a brief moment, his eyes lingering before Leon focused his attention back to the President and acknowledged his words, “I couldn’t have succeeded without my partner.” 

Leon and the President continued chatting as you stood there silently, thoughts about your fruit bowl long gone. You choked at Leon’s words, definitely knowing that he was referring to you but not directly. It’s been so long since you’ve heard Leon’s voice and seen Leon’s face, all of your progress of moving on fell back to ground level as your heart longed for him. You stood there awkwardly, having felt like you were very out of place. You were zoned out for most of the conversation or at least until you noticed Ashley inching closer towards Leon. Her laughter was louder, more forced as she clung on Leon’s arm. She pressed herself up against him, causing a sickening feeling to brew in your stomach. But that feeling was nothing compared to seeing Leon do nothing to brush off Ashley from his side. 

At this moment, you were glad you never touched the fruit bowl, knowing that it would’ve come up from your front seat view of Leon and Ashley. Unfortunately, the heaps of alcohol were starting to get to you as nausea and fatigue washed over your consciousness. Picking up a glass of water from a passing staff member, you took a few heavy gulps before inserting yourself back into the conversation, “Please excuse me.”

For the most part, you were ignored which you didn’t mind too much, having been able to slip away unnoticed. Briskly walking out of the main room, you found yourself stumbling through long halls, almost identical to the last before somehow locating a low leveled balcony overlooking a large open field of grass and garden. You untangled the curtains and softly closed the elegant door behind you, shielding yourself into isolation as you walked towards the balcony’s edge and leaning your hip against the cold stone. Looking out into the night, you sighed a breath of relief as the rush of cool air enveloped your flushed body. 

You lost track of time staring at the stars above you, drunk thoughts floating through your mind. Specifically, thoughts about Leon, then Leon and Ashley, and then Leon and you – or rather Leon without you. At this point, you hated how your thoughts were consumed by him, almost like your entire life revolved around him. You wondered, how did you get yourself to this point? 

Groaning in frustration, you fished out a spare cigarette and lighter from your person, pressing the soft paper between your lips and reaching up to light the tip. You rotated the gears of the lighter to ignite a flame; however, the cool breeze of the night prevented the flame from growing high enough. You cursed, trying again and again, but to no avail – until a large hand helped enclose your cigarette and block the wind from extinguishing your flame. You followed the hand’s owner, surprised to see Leon standing before you, having no conclusion on how he made it past the balcony doors without you noticing or hearing him. 

You slacked your lips, letting the cigarette slightly fall just enough to let you speak, “I thought you didn’t like smokers.”

“You only smoke when you’re stressed,” Leon shrugged, still cupping his hand near your cigarette. 

You didn’t comment, lighting your cigarette and sheathing your lighter. You took a long, deep breath before blowing out the smoke in the opposite direction where Leon stood. For a moment, you did debate whether to blow smoke in his face, but you weren’t that petty. Yet. 

“Long night, I guess.” 

“Yeah, same,” Leon scrunched his brows, referring to these awful parties that always praised the small number of agents and soldiers that were lucky enough to return home to their families. 

Deciding to act civilized, you lightly chuckled, flicking the ashes off your cigarette, “Not enjoying the spotlight, hero boy?”

“Can’t say I do this often.”

You didn’t reply and found no need to keep the conversation going. Maybe it was awkward, but the smell of nicotine helped ease your nerves. You enjoyed watching the smoke as it dissipated into the night air, only to be blown away by the gentle breeze which made you and the garden bushes shiver. 

You heard Leon rustling before a bit of heavy weight landed on your shoulders and the residual warmth engulfed your arms and torso. Stubbing out your cigarette, you blow out one last drag before looking over at Leon in his button up and instinctively gripping his jacket around you tighter. You usually brought your own jackets to these kinds of events, but you didn’t expect to run and hide outside for this long. 

“Kenn-”

“Keep it, you’re cold,” Leon leaned up against the balcony, “And, call me Leon.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you chose not to. You didn’t feel like you could be personal with him, at least not anytime soon. 

Noticing your lack of interaction, Leon piped up, “So, what’s on your mind?”

You cringed at the question, shrugging through his jacket, “Things.”

“Like?”

“Personal things.”

Another blanket of silence covered you both, but this time, it was definitely awkward as you no longer had your smoke to distract you with. 

“You-” 

“I’m-”

You purse your lips, “Sorry, you go first.”

“Please, I insist.”

For the first time since he came out, you and Leon made eye contact as you both tried to read each other's emotions. You debated whether or not to say anything to him, knowing that you had weeks of pent up emotions and unresolved tension. Thinking about Poppy, voices about weighing your pros and cons came back to mind. Pros with talking with Leon were gaining yourself a sense of conclusion, whereas the cons were getting your heart broken – again. Somewhere along the line of thinking, your heart must’ve made the decision for you, throwing logic completely out the question. While gazing into his blue eyes, your pupils shook, causing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath for confidence. 

With a small and broken voice, you softly spoke in a volume borderline inaudible, “You can’t- you can’t keep doing this to me, Leon.”

Leon pinched his eyes closed, almost like he was in physical pain, “I know.”

“You’re hurting me,” Your voice quivered. 

“I know.”

“I’m confused at your words and actions.” 

“I know.” 

“And, this whole time I feel like I’ve just been used.”

“I know.” 

Suddenly, you grit your teeth in frustration and throwing his jacket off your shoulders, “Fuck, Leon, can you say anything besides I know!?”

You didn’t mean to shout at him, but it just came out like that. You really shouldn’t have yelled. You were never the type to speak out from emotions anyways. Plus, you didn’t need to draw attention to yourselves had there been any unseen party goers straggling in the hallway. 

Watching Leon frown from your outburst made your heart ache before his eyes shifted towards something sympathetic. He shifted closer towards you, picking up his jacket and fixing it back on you before placing a warm hand over yours, “I’ve figured out my feelings.”

Tears flooded your vision as the air in your lungs crushed your chest. It didn’t matter what Leon’s answer was, you just weren’t ready to hear it, so you did the first thing that came to mind. You ran away, “No, no, no, don’t do this to me right now, please. I can’t do this anymore, just leave me alone, please.”

With his lightning reaction, Leon caught you by the arms and stopped you halfway towards the door. His grip was strong enough to hug you comfortably in his chest, but nowhere near tight enough to be painful or uncomfortable. Still, you pathetically fought against him, weakly slapping his upper chest; although, a part of you really didn't want him to let you go. 

Leon hugged you tighter, holding you closely and consoled your hysterics the best he could, “Shh, baby please, just let me explain.”

You halted your struggling, “Let go of me.”

"You don't mean it," Leon shook his head, "I don't believe you." 

"Le-" 

“Damn it, Y/N!” 

Leon's abrupt outburst killed whatever thought you had and silenced you into submission. Of all the years you've known him, never once has he ever raised his voice at you nor looked at you with such passionate eyes blazing with equal parts frustration and determination. 

“I will tell you everything, okay? Ask me anything you want, I’ll give you only the truth. I just want to talk to you, please?”

He continued when you didn't answer him. 

“I don’t want to leave you like this, but if you decide that you don’t like my answers or that you don’t like me, just say the word and everything we’ve ever had stops,” Leon looked down at you hopeful, releasing his hold as a sign that he trusts you not to dash away. Instead, he fixed his jacket around you as you didn't realize it was halfway down your torso. 

"Deal?" Leon said. 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Maybe it was his change in demeanor or thoughtful speech or the smell of his cologne engulfing you – whatever it was, you were compelled to accept the temptations of a devil. And yours was Leon and his sparkling eyes under the moonlit sky. 

“Say it, please,” His tone returned back to a soft and gentle level as he cupped your face with one hand and brushed your bottom lip with his thumb. 

You gulped nervously, yet determined for answers, “You have one minute.”

Leon let out a sigh of relief before flashing a small, crooked smile and thanking you for giving him a chance. 

“Ada was someone I met at Raccoon City. We spent a bit of time together, trying to get to Umbrella’s underground lab. She kissed me, but we had our differences and ended up parting ways.”

“Differences?” You perked. 

“I wanted to save the people, but she didn’t," It was a simple answer, but Leon didn't have time to elaborate while on your timer, “Then, I met Ada in Spain.”

"Wait," You paused and rewound the storyline, “I thought only you and Claire survived.”

Leon nodded with a far off look on his face as he reminisced his old days, “I thought so too, I don’t even know how she’s alive or what she’s doing, but she was in Spain.”

“Leon, why didn’t you tell us? She could be dangerous, she could’ve been working for Los Illuminados!” You scolded with a deep frown, wondering how he could've trusted someone like that. 

“No, she isn’t," Leon denied, "She’s working for someone else though, I don’t know who.”

Getting sick of talking about Ada and nearing the end of your minute, you jabbed, “I’m failing to see how this involves me.”

“This involves you, because I can’t get you out of my mind! At first, I thought it was all physical, and that was okay with me. But, we started working on more projects together, and I could finally see you for who you are. Like how intelligent you are in the meeting rooms, how your eyes crinkle when you smile at Poppy, and how you always look at me with your sparkling eyes. I didn’t even know when I started falling for you. I looked forward to seeing you every Friday, even if nothing were to happen, I still wanted your company. I wanted to see you for as long as I could, so that’s why I started visiting your office more, inviting you out more, figuring out your likes and dislikes. God, I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

Without realizing, Leon caged you against the balcony with his hands on either side of your hips and drew soft circles. He ghosted his lips on the nape of your neck before following the shell of your ear and whispered, “‘I’m so fucking obsessed with you, when I look at you I create a future with us. Just me and you, and maybe some little ones later if you wanted.”

You sighed in pleasure as you responded to his kisses, one leg instinctively hooking around his thigh as to bring him closer to you. Leon accepted your beckoning and closed the gap between each other's chests. Face to face, you could feel his breath on your lips as he laid his forehead on yours. There was barely anything keeping you from kissing each other, something you two had never done before while hooking up as it seemed too intimate for friends with benefits to do. 

Looking into his eyes, you didn't need to ask if he were sincere. You could see all of him already, and he made sure you knew that he was willing to be a hundred percent and more vulnerable. While observing, you noticed how his eyes darted between yours frantically and how his Adam's apple bobbed in a nervous gulp. You were taking too long to answer. 

“Why are you so scared?” You asked gently, placing a hand on his cheek. 

He nuzzled into your touch, “I’m scared of hurting you. I didn’t know if I would come back from that mission. I made a promise that I didn’t even know if I could keep.” 

“You came back,” You explained, now calm and confident as you said, “That’s all that matters.”

Leon's eyes lit up in delight with a breath of relief. Without any warning, Leon’s lips were all over your face, kissing your cheeks, temple, and forehead. You shied back, embarrassed from his affection. He must’ve known this as well, smirking from seeing the blush surfaced on your cheeks. Palm facing outwards, you partially blocked your face as you looked away, “Don’t look at me.”

“You look beautiful,” Leon gently removed your guarding hand and held it in his with a comforting caress before taking his other hand to guide your chin back to lock eyes, “Can I kiss you again?”

You didn’t answer him with words, opting to crane your neck forward and pressing your lips onto his. Without hesitation, Leon melted into your kiss by sliding the hand on your chin along your jawline and adjusting your angle to deepen the kiss. Arching your back, you circled your arms around his broad shoulders. Leon’s hands moved back to your hips, effortlessly propping you to sit on the balcony’s edge. You gasped in pleasure as you wrapped your legs around Leon’s hips, feeling him pressed against your core. Leon pulled you closer, teasingly grinding his hips against yours. 

“Leon!” You hissed, slapping his chest, “We’re at a party. We-”

“- could get caught?” Leon pulled back with a smirk, “Don’t be loud then.” 

You scolded him to which he laughed joyously. As much as you were annoyed with his antics, you knew that you’d never be able to forget how big his smile was and how happy he looked with you in his arms. So, you laughed with him with a large smile on your face as well, feeling the most safe and comfortable in this moment. 

He held you closely, listening to the beat of his heart, "As much as I want to take you right now, I want us to take it slow. There's so much I want to show how I can treat you. Until then, let's wait until we're both ready." 

…..

Leon had gone out of his way to make you feel like you were his world. Every morning, he’d send you a short message even if it were just a hello. If you had time before work, he’d meet you at your apartment and take you out for a quick breakfast before heading to the office. If you happened to be running late, Leon still made sure to drop off your favorite drink before carrying out his own responsibilities. During lunch, Leon would sit extra close to you, enough to indicate to onlookers that something was brewing between the two of you, but distant enough to not make anyone feel uncomfortable. After work, Leon took you out for dinner or walked you home if you were feeling particularly tired. This new found routine eventually became a lifestyle. Leon attended to all your needs and took extra care of you. Although sex with Leon was no doubt amazing, you both found solace in the emotional comfort and companionship. That is until one day you invited Leon over to bake cookies for Poppy’s birthday. 

“There’s eggshells in the mix, Leon.”

“Leon, you didn’t turn on the oven.”

“Don’t eat the chocolate, Leon!”

“Leon! How did you get flour in your hair?”

You sighed, realizing a bit too late that the flawless Leon Kennedy actually did not have a knack for cooking. Leon blushed with embarrassment, wiping the back of his hand on his forehead and thus smearing more flour on his messy face. Putting your batch of the cookies in the oven, you glided over towards Leon to brush his face clean before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "Just get cleaned up, 'kay?

Leon nodded sheepishly, heading over towards your bathroom and showering while the cookies baked. With only your batch of cookies surviving the mixing phase, you modified the recipe to make mini cookies instead. Thankfully, they were done and set to cool by the time you finished cleaning up. Realizing your clothes were dusted with flour, you made your way to your closet to change into one of Leon’s large t-shirts. Just as the shirt draped over your body, Leon entered with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and water still dripping down his glistening chest. 

“It’s rude to stare you know,” Leon teased, stretching his bicep on display as he toweled his hair. 

You shuffled your way over to him, teasingly drawing your fingers along the skin of his exposed hipline, “Do you mind?” 

“Not at all,” Leon laughed before sneaking his hands under your thighs and propping you on top of your dresser, “You look good in my clothes. I don’t know how much longer I can resist you.” 

You knew Leon liked to tease you, having gotten used to his sly comments by now. But, you’d been waiting so long since you’ve last had him in you, having Leon barely naked in front of you awoke the desires you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Rubbing your hands along his damp biceps, you trailed your hands all over his chest and up to hold his jawline and bring him in for a deep kiss. You broke the kiss, “Then don’t resist.”

Leon went to protest, probably about to spew some nonsense about waiting for the right time or wanting it to be a special moment, but you’d already forgiven him and any moment with Leon felt special to you. You hushed him impatiently, “Shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

You knew you won by his stern set features and darkening eyes, knowing that Leon always hated you pleasuring yourself without his assistance, “Like hell you will.”

Without warning, Leon picked you up again and headed towards your bed, tossing you onto the mattress with a small bounce. You yelped, half in surprise and half in excitement as you tried to sit up; however, Leon stopped you by crawling over your lower body and pining your wrists above your head, “You wanna say that again?”

You tilted your head not-so-innocently, “Say what again, Leon?”

With his free hand, Leon wrapped it around your neck and added a small amount of pressure as a warning, “Don’t test me.” 

You licked your lips, absolutely loving Leon’s change in demeanor. Sometimes, it was too easy to rile him up, “I said, shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.” 

Silence fell between you two as you challenged each other to break first. After a couple moments, you started to believe that maybe you said something wrong by the way Leon had yet to respond or react to you. But this sliver of doubt you held was just enough for Leon to play right into your vulnerability. And with a sly smile, Leon flipped you on your stomach and repositioned your hands to grip a pole on your metal headboard, “Let go and this all stops, do you understand?”

“Wha-” 

Your question was interrupted as Leon released your wrists, bundled his shirt towards your shoulder blades, and lightly smacked your ass. You jolted with a gasp, fingers tightening around the pole. You heard Leon throw something, probably getting rid of his towel. You hated that you couldn’t tell what he was doing nor could you see him in his glory, but that added towards the excitement of it all as you guessed what you were going to feel and experience next. Leon hovered above you, lips ghosting around the shell of your ear, “I don’t repeat myself, love.” 

You clenched at the pet name, whimpering from the ache between your legs. You felt Leon smirk against your skin as he pressed kisses all around your neck and shoulder. He paused to take a pillow and place it comfortably under your pelvis to prop your hips higher for him. Taking a shaky breath in, you readjusted your fingers to grip the pole even tighter than before, “I understand.” 

There was a lack of response as the weight of Leon’s body disappeared, leaving you wondering what was to come next. Through all of Leon’s previous training, he’s perfected stealth movements. No matter how much you closed your eyes to concentrate on focusing, you were well aware that Leon had the ability to exit the room without you even noticing. It felt like forever as your breathing became labored even if you hadn’t moved. The anticipation was killing you, inside and out. Just as you were about to question him, a small pop adjacent to the sound of a bottle opening pierced the air before what sounded like a glop of substance was squeezed out and rubbed between Leon’s hands. You stayed silent, letting your imagination guide you as Leon’s hands finally touched your body. He started at your shoulders, massaging small, pressured circles into the tense muscles. Once he felt you relax against him, Leon moved to give the same treatment along your back, waist, and hips. Although he wasn’t pleasing you sexually, Leon’s hands still felt euphoric as he trailed his hands along your bodyline. 

Suddenly, he stopped at your ass, squirting some more oil onto his hands before gripping the flesh and spreading you apart. Instinctually, you buried your face into the sheets and spread your legs as you felt Leon’s lingering eyes on you. Slipping a thumb forward, Leon swiped up and down your pussy lips, “So wet and I haven’t touched you yet.” 

You grit your teeth, “Don’t tease me.”

Without warning, Leon slipped his thumb in fully, rubbing against your inner walls as you mewled out in response, “You asked for that.”

“Asshole,” You muttered, still trying to adjust to him. Sure you were no stranger to having Leon’s fingers buried in you; however, it’s been so long since you’ve stretched yourself out. 

Leon chose to ignore you, finding your twitching lips more entertaining than your false resistance. He’d gotten used to it by now anyways. Leon explored your tight cunt a little more with his thumb before releasing his hold on you, “Guess we’ll have to do this the long way, not that I mind.” 

You heard Leon shuffle before his soft, wet lips connected with your pussy lips. Licking and sucking, Leon teased and abused your already swollen clit. For extra lubrication, Leon spit on you before shoving his tongue into your awaiting hole, causing you to lurch forward. You moaned out his name as he quickly brought his hands up to hold your hips stable. From the lack of sexual activity, you were surprised to find yourself so sensitive to his licks and unable to hold yourself still for him. It was almost like this was your first time getting eaten out. 

Your thoughts clouded as Leon pushed his face deeper into you, tongue stretching beyond your tight rim as he fucked you. Shuddering with pleasure, you started to gain a sense of control as you rocked your hips back to push him deeper into you. But just as you did so, Leon retracted his tongue and replaced it with two of his fingers as his lips returned back to your clit. You cried out, confused at how Leon's fingers could make you feel this way when you knew his dick in you would feel even better. Had you gone without him for too long? 

You didn't get a chance to dwell much longer as Leon's long fingers curled up and brushed your pleasure point, causing you to cry out even more and subconsciously releasing one of your hands. Leon immediately noticed this, "Calling quits already? I never knew you were so weak." 

You hissed out in annoyance which quickly changed into pleasure as Leon continued fingering deeper into you. The way he pumped in and out of you, foamed up your sticky consistency as it dripped all over his hand. With your limited vision, the audio of your wet squelching intensified as Leon quickened his pace. 

“Ready for three?”

Leon didn’t wait for an answer before adding another finger into you. At this point, your legs were quivering with delight, barely being strong enough to hold you up. Just as he rubbed your most sensitive part, your legs twitched harshly causing you to give out and slump back into the bed and pillow. Without missing a beat, Leon continued fingering you as his other hand rubbed small circles around your clit. Your moans intensified, legs still shaking from the double pleasuring sensation. 

“Wait- Leon- ngh-” 

You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but you knew your climax was coming despite the efforts to prolong it. Leon seemed to know this as well as he – again – increased his speed and skill. He shushed you, prompting you to climax, “Come on, love, I know you can do it. Just let go, I promise to give you more. Just give yourself to me.” 

Instantly, you clenched around him, feeling yourself cum around the bundle of his fingers as he helped you ride it out. Your loud moans transitioned to deep gasps as you took a moment to catch your breath. Leon flipped you over, giving you a chaste kiss, “Still doing okay?” 

“Yes,” You breathed, “Can I let go now?”

You looked up at Leon with a pleading look. Leon debated for a moment before obliging, knowing that your arms must’ve started feeling sore by now, “Fine, but keep your eyes on me. I want to see your face when you cum on me this time.” 

You looked away, embarrassed. Leon chuckled, finding your reaction adorable as he took the initiative to pump himself and slide his tip along your super sensitive clit. Leon pushed himself into you with a vice grip on your hips, groaning from how wet you still were, “I should’ve fucked you sooner.” 

Before he could fully bottom out, you’d already lifted your hips to indicate to him to start thrusting into you; however, Leon did the exact opposite as he pulled back out just to fuck his tip into you over and over again, “Impatient are we? What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.” 

Having enough with his constant teasing, you mustered all your strength to push Leon back as you straddled him with your hands firmly in his toned chest. Power surged through your veins as Leon surrendered himself beneath you. Although you know Leon could easily overpower you and that he probably let you turn the tables on him for his own entertainment, you let your ego fuel your confidence as you took his hardened dick into your hand and guided him inside you as you sank downwards. 

You watched as Leon’s face contorted with pleasure, trying his best to contain his reaction despite how good you felt engulfing him with your hot walls. Rocking up and down slowly, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I told you to shut up or I’ll do it myself.” 

Placing your hands on his shoulders to hold your weight, you thrust your hips along his shaft, pumping him from tip to balls. Leon’s groans grew louder as he put his hands on your hips to help you increase your speed. With the support of Leon, you postured back up and used your body weight to slam down onto his dick, feeling him reach the deepest depths of you. Your pussy clenched around him, throwing your head back from the pleasure. 

A smack to your ass shifted your attention back to Leon as he scowled at you, “I told you to keep your eyes on me.” 

Rolling your eyes, you continued to ride him without answering him. Undoubtedly, Leon glared at you, pushing you off of him and pining you back down into missionary, “You asked for it, hope you're ready.” 

You went to call out his bluff; however, Leon thrusted himself fully into you. You cried out from the fullness, unsuspecting that Leon would enter so roughly into you. But your clenching cunt revealed that you secretly enjoyed how rough he was with you. With that in mind, Leon thrusted roughly into you, pushing your body higher and higher upon the mattress. Leon intertwined his hands in yours, pinning you down in place as he pounded himself deeper into you. Usually, Leon focuses on the sight of you swallowing him whole, watching as his shaft disappears into you and reappears wetter than before. However, as Leon slammed his hips into yours and elicited deafening skin slapping audio, he was solely focused on you, reading every passing emotion across your face. He was studying you, figuring out what you liked versus what you loved. He’d try different angles, watching and listening to your reactions and changing his technique accordingly. He kept at it until a single harsh thrust had you tightening against his cock, gripped his hands, and moaning out his name. With that information, Leon smiled and monopolized his findings as he fixated on hitting your g-spot repeatedly, “Gotcha.” 

Leon pounded into you, harsher and deeper than before as he chased his own high. He guided you, telling you when to wait, so that you could both cum together. You struggled to keep your eyes open from how much stimulation you were receiving. But the look in Leon’s eyes convinced you to keep yours open. 

“I’m almost, fuck, I’m almost done,” Leon’s thrusts became sloppy, yet still hitting you where you needed him. 

You chanted his name over and over as you began to cum for the second time, “Please- I-” 

Without releasing your hands, Leon pumped into you one last time before pulling out and squirting his cum over your lower abdomen. Leon muttered a few curses before lazily falling next to you and kissing you. Leon helped you take off his shirt and wipe his cum off of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor before pulling you closer to him and burying himself in the crook of your neck. You receive his cuddles, lacing your fingers into his messy, damp hair. Leon kissed your neck up to your lips, “Doing okay?”

You nodded with a soft smile, “Help me to the bathroom?”

Leon obliged, lifting you up and placing you in the bathtub to share a bath together. Soaking in the warm water, your back rested against his chest. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he wrapped his large arms around your midsection like you’d disappear any second, “Leon?”

He kissed your shoulder, “Yes?” 

“Do you love me?” You asked shyly. 

Leon chuckled, holding you tighter against him, “Of course, I love you.”

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

You kissed him again, “Good, because I love you too.” 

[alwynwitch]

The toxic dynamic between Marius and his maker Teskhamen

Teskhamen wanted Marius to be kidnapped, raped into vampire existence and to save the vampire tribe/become the keeper of Akasha and Enkhil. Marius seems only to blame the druid priest Mael for this. Teskhamen seems fascinating and friendly to Marius, but I'm here to argue he is manipulative as well. I will analyze their reunion in Prince Lestat.

Marius thinks all those years (2000 years!!!) that Teskhamen is dead. His maker never let him know he actually survived the burning. Or offer any help with Those Who Must Be Kept. But then he approaches Marius. Why? Of course, you have the vampire crisis, Amel coming into consciousness and the changed structure of the Talamasca. But I think there is another layer: for the first time ever, Marius wants to sit this crisis out. He wants to hole up with Daniel (hunting together, watching movies) and wait till the storm is over.

But then his old maker is suddenly on his doorstep (again, after 2000 years of silence!!!). Because Teskhamen has chosen Marius for the task to carry the burden of vampire survival and he is here to remind Marius of his duty and the purpose he was made for. He does it with a lot of flattering and making sure no difficult questions are asked. Though soft-spoken and friendly, this creature is full of manipulation and bullshit.

This is how he approaches Marius:

"Marius," he said. "My beloved, my savior of long ago, my friend." "I know you?' asked Marius politely. Even as he clapsed the hand he divined nothing but what the agreeable and open face reflected: friendship. No danger.

During the conversation he is constantly flattering Marius, saying he is his savior, that he never had known a being like him, he compares him to the sum of sunshine on marble floors. Just friendly? Or a tactic to de-escalate the situation so Marius will not be angry with him? And, even more importantly, will do what he wants him to do?

Marius is deeply emotional which shows how much this meeting means to him (so why did Teskhamen not get into touch earlier?):

Something quickened in Marius, something he had not felt in a very long time. [...] But Marius was changed. Changed forever.

Teskhamen tells his story, which includes the founding of the Talamasca in 748. But the important questions are not asked. Why did Teskhamen never tell Marius he was still alive? Why did he not share his knowledge with him? Why didn't he check in with him to see how the task of taking care of Akasha and Enkhil was going? Why didn't he offer his help? See if Marius needed anything to carry the burden? Clearly, it would have meant a lot to Marius. (And remember how Marius abuses Armand in a similar way, letting him believe he was dead for centuries.)

Marius doesn't ask these questions. Instead, he seems to react exactly like Teskhamen is hoping for:

Marius shuddered. He had so hoped somehow this would all pass without his active acknowledgment, that somehow his time of holding the survival of the tribe in his hands was past. Had he not cared for the Mother and Father for two millennia? But he knew now he could not remain on the sidelines any longer.

No, Marius, you only cared for Akasha and Enkhil for 2000 years, of course it is not enough. The vampire Teskhamen choose you to carry the burden and you cannot suddenly step out, take a break or retire. This is why your maker has shown up now. Marius probably doesn't notice, because of his vanity, need to be in control and savior complex (that Teskhamen is exploiting skillfully).

But Marius realizes:

"And you're not one of us?" Marius asked. "You are not coming yourself?"

No, Marius, he is not coming. This is not an emotional reunion after which you two will fight the world together. He is here to remind you of your duty, the task he put you on 2000 years ago. Not to get involved himself. Especially Daniel is grilling him over this and see how Teskhamen responds:

"We ourselves made no decision." "Because you didn't have to," said Daniel. "Isn't that so?" Teskhamen shrugged. He made a little gesture of agreement with his hands. [...] "I don't know," said Teskhamen softly. [...] Teskhamen put up his hands again but this time defensively. "Daniel," he said gently. "I honestly do not know."

No, he doesn't know, he doesn't want to make difficult decisions, he is just here to make sure Marius will act and make the decisions for him and the whole vampire tribe. Then he pulls a last trick, telling Marius about the ghost of his old friend Raymond Gallant:

Marius was astonished. He was almost moved to tears. "Oh yes, Marius, you will see your beloved Raymond again, I assure you," said Teskhamen. [...] "But allow us our old caution, our old passivity, even now." "I understand," said Marius. "You want us to come together as a tribe, the very same thing that Benji wants. You want us to do the very best that we can in the face of this challenge - without your intervention."

Teskhamen uses emotional manipulation to get Marius in a soft spot to agree with everything he wants. Even though just before Teskhamen couldn't defend his position of passivity to Daniel. If Raymond means so much for Marius, why didn't he bring them into contact earlier? Why not right now? No, it seems like there is a condition for this meeting. Marius first has to play the savior once again.

"You're a splendid being, Marius," said Teskhamen.

Of course, Marius is a splendid being, a good soldier, who will once again carry out your wishes and take on the burden of vampire existence. This is the reason why you made him a vampire and you will make sure he stays on this path. While you can just watch and observe.

[skekthesilly]

sprunki lore according to my sisters (i have not seen sprunki at all and i think they might be lying to me) (theyre just making up a story at this point and im rolling with it) PART: 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

very silly story under the cut:

black had a really bad day. he stubbed his toe, fell, spilled his coffee, and had an annoying ass conversation with wenda. black is so pissed at wenda that he punches her. apparently, black was holding a hypnotization bracelet so when he punched wenda the bracelet shook around and hypnotized her, causing her to snatch said bracelet from him and punching the latter - hypnotizing him as well. now they are both hypnotized and crazy.

this is why they are evil and killed a bunch of people - except wenda didnt kill grey because wenda loves him, and black didnt kill jevin because black loves him.

apparently. according to my sisters.

pinki was going to get a tattoo from black at a tattoo store. black was going to tattoo a skull with the words "bye bye" to pinki's forehead, but accidentally ripped her face off.

fun bot also punched wenda and black in the faces, in an attempt to un-hypnotize them. it did not work, because they did not have the hypnotization bracelet. black and wenda got angry and chased fun bot until they lost sight of them.

wenda didn't give simon enough food, so he decided to eat brud instead. after eating brud, simon was satiated.

mr. fun computer was dying, and said that he needed battery. so jevin, who was conveniently right next to him, plugged in a charger but it was the wrong charger. this turned mr. fun computer into a catboy, and made him chase jevin all around the room (because theyre in a house for some reason). so jevin ran out of the house that they were both in and teamed up with grey for shelter, because grey was hiding from wenda. but before they found shelter, black killed oren.

grey and jevin are in a forest trying to survive. grey is stressing out and babbling nonsense until jevin interrupts grey by saying "just shut up and kiss me already!" they fall in love and make out passionately. (note: THIS STATEMENT RIGHT HERE HAS TURNED ME INTO A GREY X JEVIN SHIPPER AND I CANNOT GO ONE SECOND WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT THEM KISSING. CURSE YOOOOUUUU RAAAAAGGHHHHH........... GETS BLASTED WITH YAOI BEAM.....)

raddy was pretending to be jesus. wenda got so mad at him that she nailed raddy to a cross, jesus-style. wenda then asked simon to eat half of raddy's body. suddenly, simon choked on brud's bucket (which had apparently been stored in his stomach and somehow got regurgitated) and passed out.

mr. sun was going to get a tattoo from black at a tattoo store. black says "okay but you need to burn down the forest and everyone in it first" and mr. sun agrees. after the deed is done, mr. sun gets a tattoo on their left eye.

however, pinki (who was apparently in the forest) survives the forest fire, along with grey and jevin. grey and jevin fled to a different forest when the saw mr. sun burning the first forest down.

vineria was in the second forest looking for food, but then she mistook plant food for normal food, so she ate it and felt really sick but she ate it anyways because she thought it was still food. she went to sleep, and the next morning her eyes were hurting a lot. she said "omg it feels like my eyes are gonna pop out" and guess what? they did. she then realized too late that the "normal food" was dangerous plant food, but by the time she realized this, the weird growth stuff in her insides were growing and reaching her brain, making her pass out. she died shortly after.

sky saw all the craziness happening everywhere and tried to find grey and jevin. but while they were running, they stepped on a booby trap and metal pipes burst out of the trap and impaled them, causing them to die.

(guess were switching to present tense now lmao)

grey and jevin are wandering in the forest when they find an abandoned house. inside, they find a shovel and keep it for defense in case something bad happens. they decide to stay in the abandoned house.

a day later, while grey and jevin are searching for food, they see sky's dead carcass and go "man. we should bury them." so they bury them using the shovel they found.

wenda and black are searching for weapons when they stumble upon an abandoned house (not the same house that grey and jevin are in). turns out that the abandoned house is actually tunner's house, and wenda finds a gun, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and cowboy clothes. she decides to wear the clothes and keep the gun, and is so intoxicated with the idea of being a cowgirl (she's always wanted to be a cowgirl) that she goes out into the forest, finds tunner, and shoots him because she wants to be the only cowgirl in sprunkiland and doesnt want any other cowgirls or cowboys to live.

wenda then gets really hot outside so she takes the cowboy clothes off.

a few minutes later, black is bored and wants to do something, so he goes "hey wenda. wanna see something cool???" and she goes "yeah sure." so black uses magic (which he apparently has for some reason) and magically revives all the dead sprunkis into evil zombies. wenda goes "woah. thats cool. can you control them?" and black goes "nah. lol. lmao. i cant control them" and wenda goes "omg bro youre so STUPID....... were LITERALLY GONNA DIE..... theyre like UNDEAD ZOMBIES NOW.......theyre NOT GONNA DIE ANYMORE........ bRO........" and black is like "haha. lol. i was bored. lmao. tee hee." he has no fear of consequences.

grey and jevin are still in the second forest, still hiding out in the abandoned house they found, but then clukr walks into the house (grey and jevin haven't locked the door because, in my sister's words: "theyre dumb") and for some reason they just dont notice clukr. but its because hes being quiet. they continue not noticing until clukr reaches the second floor (the house has a second floor and grey and jevin are on the second floor). then jevin goes "omg is that wenda" and brings out the shovel (he cant see clukr very well because its dark outside ((the lights barely work inside, theyre trying to conserve power)) ), but grey goes "wait thats clukr thats my semi-pookie clukr" (hes kinda basically a cat. like i know its canon that hes not a cat but me and my sister have decided that he is now a demon who looks like a cta. whatever. he has night vision too) and jevin goes "hmmmm. hmm.... hrmmm..... okay. whatever. sure ig."

but black was watching everything that was happening while holding a grey and jevin detector blessed upon him by mr. sun, and a chainsaw blessed upon him by mr. fun computer. black floats to the second floor back window (he has magic) and throws the chainsaw into the window, aiming for grey and jevin. jevin quickly deflects the chainsaw with the shovel but it bounces off directly into clukr's head, slicing it.

clukr is just introduced and then literally immediately dies like 5 seconds later. justice for clukr

anyways because of the magic that turns dead sprunkis into evil zombies, clukr dies but is immediately revived and is evil now. clukr then tries to attack both grey and jevin but clukr cant see very well thru his giant cymbal head and jevin just starts repeatedly beating up clukr with the shovel. yaaaaayyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

now clukr is dizzy, but grey is freaking out and goes "we need to get outta here NOW" so he grabs jevin's hand and runs out the broken back second story window and gets cut up by all the broken glass, but he doesn't see black at the window and rams head-first straight into his stomacg. like. REALLy hard. so them black got a really bad stomachache and went spinning off into the distance while grey and jevin fell down the second story all the way down to the ground. and. note this. take notes of this.

after falling, grey and jevin are NOT INJURED. at ALL. not injured by the fall at the sLIGHTEST. but then they immediately pass out once they reach the bottom. like they literally jump out the window, are perfectly fine, and just ragdoll once they touch the ground. roblox style. like they just jump out and go "yippee!!! yahoo!!!!!" and land on the ground UNSCATHED and just. "uuuurrghhhhh!!!!!! passes out on the ground"

anyways my sister said that grey landed on all fours (like the totally awesome demon cat that he is) and is perfectly ok and has like a whole two seconds of being conscious until he just randomly ragdolls roblox-style on the ground. then jevin is about to fall to the ground beside him also perfectly ok, but in midair his body is just. magically teleported on top of grey??? and he falls on grey and he just passes out after?????? i have no clue just roll with it chat

anyways fun bot sees both their unconscious bodies at the back of the house and brings them to their secret underground base. jevin wakes up first in one of the beds in the base and fun bot notices and says "did you know that you passed out on top of grey.... thats kinda gay. thats kind of gay of you to do that"

jevin says "uhhhh no??? i didnt do that???? wtf???"

and fun bots like "yeah you did. i saw it with my own two robotic eyes. i saw it. i would not lie to you. you passed out on top of grey yaoi-style. i saw it"

and then grey woke up and was like "omg!!! where am i"

and fun bot goes "dw youre safe youre not gonna die by that weird creepy catboy mr. fun computer"

and jevin was like "oh yeah i remember he turned into a catboy and chased me all around the room"

and fun bot says "we gotta stop black and wenda. did you know that theyre hypnotized? i tried to un-hypnotize them but i need the magic bracelet black had and unfortunately its destroyed so i cant un-hypnotize them until we fix it"

grey hears something in the base and goes "uhhhhh.... is there other people down here?????"

fun bot says "oh yeah pinki and brud are here too idk how they survived but they did"

and grey's like "o. wow. so like. can we see em. like can we see how theyre doing"

and fun bot's like "yeah ok sure"

so grey and fun bot go deeper into the base to find pinki. once they find them pinki goes "omg!!!! hi!!!!! how are you!!!!!" but its kinda garbled bc like. she has no lips

and greys like "omg wtf happened to your face"

and pinkis like "oh yeah i got my face ripped off. btw if you wanna find brud hes at the cafeteria. straight ahead"

and greys like "ok"

so grey and fun bot go to the cafeteria and they see brud there and bruds like "ae"

and then hes like "omg!!!!!! is that wenda and black!!!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱"

and greys like "no???? its me and fun bot"

and bruds like "who"

and greys like "ok. whatever. at least youre still alive"

and fun bots like "ok chat we should go find the pieces of the magic bracelet. theres six pieces scattered across sprunkiland. also btw brud you should stay here bc i feel like you are absolutely going to die if you take one step outside of this base"

then fun bot goes to the area pinki is in and asks her "yo pinki wanna help us find the magic bracelet that will un-hypnotize black and wenda" and pinki goes "yeah sure but first you gotta fix my face bro this sucks" and fun bots like "man. i only have bandages and medicine. not skin grafts. i also have toilet paper to wipe off all the blood n yucky stuff from your face. you should take the bandages n the toilet paper. i dont think youll need the medicine bc like. im 99% sure youre not sick. actually take it just in case. oh and we need coats. it cold outside"

and pinki goes "ok lemme put on my coat rq. man. i miss my husband oren, fun bot. i miss him a lot."

and greys like "ok..... uh.... lets go get jevin. i dont think he needs a coat, he has his hood already"

so they walk to the area where jevin is in and once they find him they notice jevin has found a surplus of guns. hes like "yo check out these awesome guns i found. fun bot why didnt you tell us about this" and grey goes "vro..... youre literally going to kill yourself put those guns down.... do you even know how to use them" and jevin stares at grey with his big round sopping wet gay eyes and goes "pleade. were gonna need them" and grey goes ".....ok. sure. ok. dont shoot yourself" and jevin goes "um. well you see" and shows a comically perfect bullet hole that you can see straight through, and the bullet hole is IN HIS STOMACH. and my sister made a note of emphasizing that he is PERFECTLY FINE AND NOT IN ANY PAIN AND THERE IS NO BLOOD ANYWHERE. and he is just FINE. he is just JIGGY WITH IT. and he goes "yo grey can i have those bandages youre holding" and hes like "omg. jevin. you. you literally. ok. sure"

so jevin covers the bullet hole with bandages but then brud bursts into the room and goes "whERES THE BATHROON!!!!! i nEED to Take A Dump™️" and fun bot says "ok. go straight, turn a left, straight again, to the right, go in the elevator, 2nd floor, then go straight, turn right, up the left stairs, third door to the right, and you'll find the bathroom :)"

and bruds like "ok 🤤" and bashes straight through the wall

and fun bots like "okay. well. we need to get another thing-" and pinki goes "i know what it is!!!!!!!!!" and pinki runs out of the room and after a whole 10 minutes she brings a wHOLE ENTIRE ELEPHANT INTO THE ROOM. and shes standing on the elephant and she says "alright!!!! were ready to go now!!!!!"

so they exit out of the secret base. with the elephant

PART 2 COMIG SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- my sister

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Survival | Coda

Okay, so, I just read Survival, and. yus. (/pos) All I keep thinking about is what if the Others encounter (their) human Virgil having an anxiety attack or feeling very overwhelmed & panicked? Like...how would they handle that? Would they have help from someone who knows a bit more about humans' nervous system? Would they also kinda freak out because they don't know how to help Virgil calm down? – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: panic attack

Pairings: none

Word Count: 1682

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub." "What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?" "It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!" "You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?" Or, Virgil has a panic attack, and Roman and Remus are called in to help.

"Roman? Remus, report to Engineering Main Hub."

"What did you do," Roman mutters as they leave their stations, eyestalks flicking back and forth, "what didn't you do?"

"It wasn't me! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You know that just makes you sound more suspicious, right?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that it wasn't my fault that the quantum field generator was out of alignment this morning because I spent four matrons aligning it last shift and when I left, everyone including Lieutenant Alvarez signed off on it saying it was fine, so if it's messed up again, it's not on me!"

"That's a lot of words for 'I don't know what I did this time.'"

Remus shoves him as his mandible chitters and the two of them manage to make it the rest of the way to the reporting station without breaking anything. It's a close thing, but they manage it. The supervising officer looks up and sighs, gesturing toward the ducts.

"You two are close with Human Virgil, aren't you?"

"We're friendly," Roman says, "but I wouldn't say close."

"That's good enough."

"What's happened with Virgil?"

The officer sighs again—that's probably not good. "I don't know exactly what's going on. Medical Officer Patton is over there, he's got a better grasp of humans than the rest of us on staff here, ask him."

"With all due respect," Remus points out, "we're not exactly experts on humans either, I'm not sure we're qualified to—"

"Well, the human's the one asking for you, so when they're in a state where they can talk coherently again, you can ask them."

Three things occur to both of them at rather alarming speeds.

One: Virgil is asking for them specifically.

Two: Virgil is not currently in a state where they can explain why they've asked for the two of them specifically.

Three: Virgil is so much in a state where they cannot speak coherently that a medical officer has been summoned.

"Where are they?"

The officer jabs a tentacle toward the ducts and they're off, dodging other crew members and murmuring apologies for their brusque journey across the floor, mandibles chittering rapidly. Sure enough, by the time they round the corner to reach the stairs leading up to the overlooking platform, they can hear the soft voice of the medical officer murmuring something.

"That's it, you're doing very well. Keep trying to take deep breaths, okay? That will help stabilize the oxygen levels in your body, which will help bring about the end of this."

"I know that—it's just—I can't—I—I—"

"You can. I know it seems hard right now—"

"No shit!"

"Medical Officer Patton?" Remus calls as they reach the top of the stairs. "We were called, is everything…?"

Roman shoves Remus aside as he too makes it to the platform, trying to see what's caused Remus to stop so suddenly. He then slams to a halt when he sees the bright blue of the medical officer's uniform nearly covering a small, curled-up ball of dark fabric that appears to be shuddering. Before he can ask if this is another stage of human development they're unaware of, part of the blob lifts and he lets out a soothing rumble before he realizes it.

Virgil, their human, is curled up so tightly in a little ball that it must be painful, and his face is all red and blotchy and—leaking?

"Virgil?" Remus's voice drops to the low register they use to communicate with fresh hatchlings, crouching down to make his silhouette smaller. "What's going on?"

"You—you came—you actually—actually—"

"Easy," Patton says gently as another horrible noise leaves Virgil's lips, "don't try and speak too much, you'll over stress your system. Here, let me—"

He reaches into the small toolkit on his belt and retrieves a comfort canister. A light hissing fills the air as it decompresses, the blanket within growing larger and larger until he can drape it over Virgil's shaking shoulders. The human lets out another thorax-wrenching noise as he huddles under the soft blue fabric, taking a fistful and bringing it to cover his mouth.

"What's happening?" Roman asks, crouching down too. "How long has this been going on?"

"I was called a few malton units ago," Patton explains, his eyes still on Virgil curled up under the blanket, "about a crew member in distress. He appears to be otherwise uninjured. I believe this is an exacerbated response from his nervous system."

"Is this related to his parasite?"

Patton's head whips around. "Parasite?"

"Not a literal parasite, uh, Roman, help me out—"

"I think he calls it anxiety? It's not actually a parasite, he just described it like that to us once—"

"Ah, yes, anxiety, I'm familiar with the term in humans. Yes, I think this is part of it. It's not uncommon for humans with anxiety to experience periods of time where their systems is overloaded with instincts that are not applicable to their current situation."

"Their system attacks itself?"

"In a manner of speaking. I believe human experts refer to them as 'panic attacks.'"

Roman blinks with both eyestalks. "Well, that sounds…unpleasant."

"No shit," comes Virgil's voice through the blanket, "it's a bitch and a half."

"Do you normally measure inconveniences in female dog lengths?"

"Figure of speech." The rattling breaths haven't stopped yet, and they can hear a few more drops of liquid hit the grating. "Shit."

"How can we help?"

"Protocol suggests surrounding the crew member with those familiar to them," Patton explains, "who may be able to offer comfort and security."

"O-oh."

The human thinks they're…safe? They've not had more than half a dozen conversations and they're nowhere near approaching brood mate status, they've not even seen each other that many times off shift. But Virgil is extremely distressed and if they can help, well, what are they supposed to do, refuse?

"What do we do?"

"Virgil?" Patton rests a hand carefully on the top of the blanket-human pile. "Roman and Remus would like to help. What would you like them to do?"

"Can—can you come closer?"

Both of them skitter along the platform and bracket the pile on either side. Patton removes his hand and shuffles back to give them space. Roman bumps an eyestalk against Remus as Remus lies flat, making it easier for Virgil to see him without having to move his head so much.

"Hi," he chirps, some of his feelers playing gently with the edge of the blanket. "We're right here. You look like a hatchling all curled up in the blanket."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Do you know a lot about how our species nests?"

"No."

"We make these really big colonies that are just devoted to rearing the young. We gather supplies from everywhere we can to make the environment as safe for them as possible."

"Which in Remus's case, means getting rid of all the dangerous things he hoards like a ravenous purple worm."

"Hey!"

"It's true," Roman says, stroking the blanket, "but once that's all done, we get these big bunches of fluff from the canyon lands and make nests out of them, kind of like this. Then we wrap the young in them so their limbs can get used to having ambient pressure and sensation in a safe way before they're big enough to try moving on their own."

"That's why I said you look kind of like a new hatchling, all bundled up."

Virgil sniffles, wiping at his face. "That sounds nice."

"Why are you leaking," Roman asks gently, "is there something we can patch?"

"'M not leaking, 'm just crying."

"Crying is something humans do to cope with overwhelming emotions in their systems," Patton adds quietly when they still look confused, "it helps with the release of extra things that re-stabilizes them."

"Oh. Keep doing it, then."

A watery huff. "I'm not gonna be able to stop anytime soon, don't worry."

"Do you want us to keep talking?"

"Y-yeah. Um, what are the canyon lands like?"

"They're these massive stretches of bare rock that reach from one side of the planet to the other. They're very treacherous for single or even double exploration teams, so we have to go in really big groups to be able to get around them safely." Remus's eyestalks wave back and forth. "There's not a lot of cover out there so we gotta be able to have eyes in all directions."

"It also gets really hot because of that," Roman adds, "so we take turns being at the top of the group."

"What do you mean, 'at the top?'"

"Oh, sorry—we travel in a horde when we go out in groups that big to make it easier on our legs for long distances. The ones at the bottom provide the power to keep the group going, the ones at the top are the eyes for the rest of us, and the ones in the middle provide stability to make sure no one gets left behind."

"That's…cool."

"But it gets really hot at the top so we change positions every so often to keep the group moving and stable."

"I don't get hot as easily as Roman does—"

"Hey!"

"—so I get to spend more time at the top."

"You just hate having to walk for yourself when you don't absolutely have to."

"I'll have you know I'm still the winner of the Marsh Dash for three galactic cycles in a row and you've never gotten in the top 200."

"Yeah, but that's for your pride."

Remus chitters in an affronted way and Virgil makes another little one of those watery laughs. The engine hums around them, just like the thriving colony of a healthy hive.

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[jeanette-luminia]

A/N: Haven't written anything for 3 months(?) now, so this is very scrappy :)

If you were a second late, he wouldn’t be here now—sitting in front of you as you frantically try to bandage the best you can with limited resources. He sees your worry, your tears forming in the corner of your eyes, your trembling hands, and the way your lips quiver. He sees it—yet doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t dare to say anything in this state, it was his fault anyway. He can live that up.

He tried to reach for you, but the severe burn on his arm didn’t help. Each second, it felt like he was still burning from the fire that the curse made. Nonetheless, he reached for your wrist.

“Dear…”

No. You can’t stop now, he has to live, he has to. Everyone needs him, Yuuji needs him, Gojo needs him, You need him. 

You ignore his voice, focusing on amplifying your reverse technique on him. “No, shut up.”

“Sensei…” You averted your attention away from Nanami for a moment and focused on the two students before you. It shows that you weren’t keeping your act together, regarding the concerned faces they gave you. But, you smiled. There was nothing else to reassure them in this chaos.

“Go to Shoko, both of you.”

“But–” Before Nobara protested, you cut her off.

“That is an order. You need proper treatment.” Your glare gave them goosebumps, thus, they had no other choice but to obey. “...Okay, but be careful, Nanamin, Sensei.”

Be careful.

“We will.”

If only that was the case. You hoped this was just a huge nightmare—and that once you woke up, it would be your day off, laying in bed till noon with him, or maybe even going on a date. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

These emotions appeared slow and controlled. Then suddenly, you find yourself in the eye of the whirlpool, consuming all at once. Your breath becomes rigid, the tears in your eyes start to fall, and you cannot control your curse energy at the moment. Everything felt so hazy. Your throat began to close off, and you felt like someone had your nose clogged as you couldn’t breathe properly, and you couldn’t see anything with all the tears falling.

Then suddenly, you were hit with the realization. If you were a second late, the man you desperately love will be gone right before your eyes.

…athe

Bre—

“Darling, look at me.” you felt the ringing in your head, yet his voice was heard. As you looked at him, even with how bruised he was, he still carried that… expression in him. That soft expression as if—as if he wasn’t about to die.

You covered your face. “You’re being unfair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you. You were supposed to ask for help if it’s too much, but you didn’t.” you gasped for air, feeling your heart breaking every second as you spoke. “You could have yelled like Yuuji did. I could have been there for you. I could have fought alongside you. You wouldn’t have suffered this much.”

Nanami leaned against the wall but never left his eyes on your figure as you cried your heart out. He allows you to. Because if it was you in this situation, he would have done the same.

“You promised you’d stay alive. Yet you nearly died if I was a second late!” 

Nanami, who was quick to grab your wrist, pulled you onto his chest. “S-stop! Let go. It’s painful!”

Hearing your words, he only strengthened his grip. “It’s not as painful as you crying knowing I can’t do anything.” This pain he can tolerate. Yet somehow, he can never tolerate your anguished cry, knowing he was the cause of it. He can’t do anything about it, because what is done, is done.

He can only do now to hold his dear beloved, hoping to tell you that he is alive. He survived—thanks to you. 

Nanami Kento then realized that he would rather be selfish than live in a world where you aren’t here anymore.

© 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐀 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Tumblr isn't letting me find again @fictionadventurer's and my own posts on epistolary novels, but I have been thinking about it again, because I fell down a Goodreads review rabbit hall and I have thoughts again.

So many people dislike the style, and honestly, I don't blame them, because it's so often done... not well. It is in some aspects, a deceptively easy one, and in others, deceptively hard. And because I'm trying to write a novel with this format myself, I have been thinking about what makes or breaks an epistolary novel.

I talked yesterday about TGLPPS, because it is an interesting case to analyze. I have thought many times about it, and cannot think of a single non-merely-aesthetic reason for it to be told in an epistolary style. A lot of it depends on -British- people who have survived some terrible war conditions willingly opening up to a stranger about their experiences, and that's made... even more difficult if the medium is letters? typically writers will appeal to tropes like making the reserved character drunk, or have them share an extreme experience in isolation with the stranger to create sudden intimacy. None of this is possible in writing; if anything, one is much more self-conscious about the things one writes than the things one says; verba volant, scripta manent.

It seems to me the story would have flowed much more naturally if Juliet had been stranded on Guernsey for some reason -like the first author herself!- suddenly Dawsey commenting that he got a book from her library makes so much more sense! Yes, certainly, if you met a stranger out there, and they introduce themselves and you realize you have a book that once belonged to them, you would tell them so! And it is in this way that the epistolary format does violence to a story that would otherwise sound much less contrived.

Another problem is the large cast of characters and multiple settings. For all I complain about Dracula, Stoker manages this pretty well (of course he has the model of The Woman in White, but TWiW has fewer povs), at least on the first half, because structurally the storylines of the characters are converging, and that does a lot to guide the reader in the understanding of the character's relationships. TGLPPS's relationship structure is more of a multidirectional flow chart, and that becomes confusing really fast.

Another novel I read reviews for recently is one set in WWI, composed of back and forth letters between two lovers torn apart by war, and one common complaint was... that the climactic scenes, the times they meet, etc all happen... off-camera. It is a fair complaint, but also one I cannot really blame the author for, because that's what usually happens with real life compilations of letters of that kind. Sure, usually the editor/compiler will fill in the blanks sometimes and add an epilogue of sorts explaining what happened afterwards, and that is possible if you are writing it fictionally too, but some may think it spoils the effect of immediacy and whatnot, which, fair too.

But it makes me think of how aware Jean Webster was of these difficulties, and how deftly she managed them in both Daddy Long-Legs and Dear Enemy. Both novels have aged badly in terms of content and message, but they are very interesting stylistically.

DLL is a bildungsroman with a dash of romance; through Judy's letters to daddy long-legs we can see how she grows as a person, gaining independence intellectually and economically, and as a writer, as her grammar and vocabulary change and grow. Between making Judy an orphan who hates the orphanage where she has lived her whole life, and one where she lived past the usual age of being thrown into the world, Webster does away with the need for letters between Judy and her friends and family: all her friends and family are her college roommates and her benefactor, who is the person she writes to. The benefactor scheme also makes it so that she doesn't have to write dll's replies, which in turns makes it much more natural and acceptable for the reader when Judy writes him the ending's love letter describing the feelings and impressions of their finally meeting in person and in truth; Judy has become a writer, and she is so used to write to him as another person all the time, that it just makes sense for her to write to him one more letter at the point where her benefactor and her lover become one and the same person. She has written a novel where the core is the correspondence between lovers AND managed to include as well all the moments of their meetings that we would otherwise miss.

Dear Enemy is a similar, but longer and more ambitious story. Instead of one relationship-connection (Judy and Daddy's), we have Sallie as a nod of connections: she's Judy's friend, Jarvis' "employee", the boss of several characters, has a tense colleague-boss relationship with the visiting doctor, a boyfriend of sorts in Washington, and a family we have met before. It is, in that way, a similar setup to TGLPPS: a urban girl of means becomes a fish out of water in a different setting till she ends up assimilating to it, and settling definitely through marriage. But Webster does a few things differently to make it click.

For starters, it is clear to her that this is the story of Sallie's maturation -I have sometimes talked of Dear Enemy as a novel where a Mary Crawford-like character undergoes a transformation arc. The happenings and stories she meets and tells Judy about along the way serve this arc, besides standing on their own as case studies to illustrate the problems, ideology and solutions proposed to the secondary themes of the story (education and social reform). I feel like TGLPPS is much more interested in Guernsey's survival through the war, in which case Juliet's story is already a frame, which, again, makes the epistolary format cumbersome rather than complementary.

Dear Enemy adds more correspondents, but it is very austere/economical with them, and narrows the letters we see to only those Sallie sends. YMMV regarding if it was too much cutting or not, but the undeniable effect is structural soundness; you are never confused by what is happening or who is writing to whom. We can guess the Honorable Cyrus Wykoff probably wrote some indignant letters to Jervis, and those would be funny to read, but... would they be worth the break in the flow of the narrative? I don't think so. To this effect, just having Sallie write a line to the effect of "I expect at this point you have at hand an irate letter from the Hon. Cyrus" is enough to paint a picture for the reader. Perhaps a letter or two from Dr. MacRae would have helped develop his character more -definitely a first read of the story obscures how much misdirection there is in Sallie's narration to Judy, which in turns tends to create an impression of suddenness to the closing letter that doesn't come across well to the reader.

The choice of Sallie mainly writing to Judy is, IMO, a really good one too. It not only establishes a connection with DLL, but it also allows for the intimacy that makes disclosure believable (something TGLPPS struggles with, as I mentioned above). When you add a few letters to the doctor and Gordon and Jervis, you also get a better perspective of Sallie's personality, how she deals not only with a friend, but with acquaintances, romantic partners and coworkers.

From all this it is pretty evident that for Webster the main function of epistolarity as format is aiding in showing psychological and moral development. But that's not the only thing the format can be really good for: perspective is another, and Austen uses it to great effect in both Lady Susan and Lesley Castle.

Both stories deal with mainly static characters, but who have very strong perspectives of the same situation, and it is this singularity of setting and story that anchors the narrative to avoid confusion, while the variety of perspective brings interest. In Lady Susan, we are dealing mainly with the marrying off of Frederica and seduction of Mrs. Vernon's brother, Reginald. There where Lady Susan paints Frederica as an undisciplined, irrational and ungrateful daughter, her sister in law, Mrs. Vernon, paints her as a sweet girl and a victim of her mother's ruthlessness and lack of love. Both agree that Reginald is being seduced, but, of course, with opposite goals: Lady Susan wants him to succumb, Mrs. Vernon, to escape, and this is a delicious struggle for the reader to follow!*

Lesley Castle being an earlier effort, and unfinished, does show some of the defects I have mentioned before (mainly, the relative confusion of having several correspondents in separate storylines), but illustrates well this same perspective effect: Margaret writes to Charlotte about the new Lady Lesley, and the new Lady Lesley writes to Charlotte about about Margaret and her sister... and in these contrasts lies the main interest of the narrative.

Some conclusions to these musings, then:

Not every story is suited to the epistolary format.

The epistolary format seems to work the best when it is used for either A) showcase psychological and moral development B) to play with perspective on people and/or events.

One of the main difficulties of the format is finding a narrative element to anchor and structure the letters around.

It must have a core couple of correspondents, or at most, two. More than that will make it confusing (unless, perhaps, the story is very short and about a single event or two).

A delicate balance must be found so that the secondary correspondence doesn't cut the flow of the main one, and if possible it must feed into it.

*It is interesting how Love and Friendship, being such a delightful -and I sustain one of the best ever- Austen adaptation, is by force of the perspective switch towards a more impersonal third person, more about a love story between Frederica and Reginald than a struggle between Lady Susan and Mrs. Vernon. Which isn't dissimilar to how adaptations of DLL end up being more about the romance between the leads than Judy's coming of age in college; tropes aside, I feel like if the epistolary format is well embedded in the story, it's going to be nearly impossible to reproduce the effect in adaptation.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

If anything were to ever be released from Peeta's POV during the series, I think what I would be most interested in is what was going through his head during The Mockingjay Trial.

Peeta's thoughts during Mockingjay as a whole would be interesting. Peeta is ultimately cunning. We all joke about how Peeta would've ran 13 if he'd been the one that was saved, but I can't imagine Snow was having a particularly fun time with him either. Peeta knows how to communicate with the Capitol. I wonder if part of the reason Peeta was abused so horribly was not to torture Katniss, but because it's very possible there was a real possibility Peeta could've won the war from the inside by turning Snow's people against him with his own personal showmanship. "If it weren't for the baby" is a perfect example of how capable Peeta could be of doing just that.

I imagine once Peeta begins to regain his mind, it doesn't take long for him to realize the multiple problems that exist within president Coin. The problems Gale decided not to acknowledge in the proper manner.

Gale and Katniss are incredibly close. Now, I know we all like to poke our fun at Gale, (I'm definitely guilty of it,) but Gale is a genuinely complex character. He was a kid too. That doesn't take away from how he still did wrong, but you cannot look at him from a black and white lense when legitimately viewing his character. He does have depth.

Gale and Katniss are close because they are similar. They lose their fathers in the same accident, they learn to survive the same way. Katniss speaks throughout the series of how similar they are. It would not at all be impossible for Peeta to assume Katniss was radicalized the same way Gale was since he remembers their relationship despite the hijacking.

I think this is what hurts Peeta the most during the voting for the final Hunger Games. Peeta is at a severe disadvantage to reading Katniss still. His mind is better, and most likely he had already begun therapy in seriousness and was already improving mentally. But he and Katniss have not begun to grow back together yet. He no longer has access to her obvious tells. And yes, Katniss's thoughts are obvious to her inner circle. To everyone else, she is a mystery. Katniss loves him, but he is no longer in her inner circle at this point.

I don't think Peeta would realize the truth of Katniss's vote until she shoots Coin instead of Snow, which I think is the point for many to realize the amount of deep set problems there truly were with Coin. Most of the time it takes someone doing something extreme to make people pause and think.

Peeta is already having to put the pieces back together in his mind about Katniss. I think The Mockingjay Trial would probably be the tipping point of Peeta's recovery due to the testimonies, the evaluations. Something I've wondered is if Peeta was even allowed to testify since he had been hijacked. Honestly, I would assume that he wasn't. Leaving him off to the sidelines, forced to watch as someone he knows he used to be close to be examined live for the nation to see, to be picked and torn apart. I imagine that maybe the general public was not allowed to see any footage, but based off of Plutarchs offer for Katniss to be on a new singing program during their final conversation in 'Mockingjay,' it seems Katniss was correct in thinking there was most likely a live broadcast of her in the Training Center available to watch. Most likely Haymitch was allowed a peak. And through Haymitch, probably Peeta. I don't think it would be until the entire nation is forced to learn the "truth" about The Mockingjay that Peeta has the same moment as Katniss has in 'The Hunger Games,' when suddenly he realizes just how much he does know about her.

I would think this time would be when Peeta and Haymitch also make peace with their relationship as well. Most likely there were probably a few, very hard to have conversations between the two of them during the trial. About Katniss, about Haymitch's promise to both of them during 'Catching Fire,' about being unable to save him.

Peeta returns to District 12 at the earliest opportunity allowed. Probably for a few reasons. It's his home, it is ultimately where he belongs. But I also think there's probably a very large part of him that wants confirmation for what he's sure he already knew. Her thoughts when shooting Coin. When she voted yes. I think The Mockingjay Trial is probably when Peeta decided he wanted to be her friend again. That it was when he finally remembered her. And I'd just really like to see that, even as a short story.