#I know that and YOU know that but he doesn't until like..... a few years later. canonically

[cowboyheyxu]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[bonniepop]

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

[cjlouwho]

It was a two hour drive to the town he grew up in, but he and Evan were going to make a weekend of it. Tommy was going to show him the house he was raised in, where he went to school, the path he rode his bike to get there.

He was going to point out the spot he had his first kiss; the moment he had the terrifying realization that he would be okay with never kissing a girl again.

He'd try to open up about his dad. About how he kicked Tommy out of the house once, when he was fifteen. Tommy spent a week sleeping in the park until a police officer picked him up and took him back home. Told his dad he if he did it again, he'd be going to prison for child neglect. That was a bad weekend.

They'd end the tour here. The place his mom resided. Her home for the last twenty-seven years. Evan was planning on bringing flowers. Pink roses were her favorite.

Instead, Tommy places the roses at her grave on his own. Cleans off the headstone, listens to the chimes clang together in a nearby tree, their steady rhythm not nearly as soothing as her voice once was. He sits at the bench just a few feet away from where she lay, puts his hands in his jacket pockets, and stares out at the trees gently swaying in the breeze.

He doesn't get to introduce Evan. Doesn't get to tell him about the way she smiled, or how she showed her love. He sits alone, just like all the other years. Still, he talks to her. Keeps her updated on his life. "I had a boyfriend for a while, Mom. A really good man. You would have loved him," he tells her. "I know I did."

[quarterlifekitty]

Hey stepdad Nik gal here again, so my idea might be a little half baked but imagine if Nik decides it's finally time to settle down and meets a woman a little younger than him but not by a lot maybe max 4 years. He's mentioned having kids or adopting and she seemed on board with it if a bit disinterested but it's when they get married it goes downhill. He finds she was just really good at playing into what he wanted and changes a lot but not enough to leave her because well it's someone to keep the house and she's not terrible just not exactly what he thought she was. Until her daughter shows up. Her adult daughter in her last few years of college who's extremely surprised to find out she has a stepdad considering she was never even invited to the wedding, her mother's excuse? "Well you're just so busy!" And Nik expects at least a little bit of anger but his apparent stepdaughter just deflates a bit, nodding before turning to him with a sweet smile and introducing herself. He had no idea this girl existed, there's no photos of her in the house, no keepsakes, he honestly believed his wife had no children by her behavior. And he quickly sees why, his wife is fine on her own but seems to have a personal issue with her own daughter. Passive aggressive comments, piling chores on her, even restricting where she can go, in general treating her poorly. Meanwhile she's the sweetest thing he's ever met. Checks every single box of his, and she's so sweet when he does things for her like she cant fathom someone wanting to care for her or help her. He gathers from his sweet stepdaughter that she was an oops baby and that her mother never let her forget it either and had been like this her whole life and had kicked her out the night before her 18th birthday and only really demanded her home on holidays(for appearances) or when she needed money. Everything he learns makes him wish he'd rethought marrying this woman, but oh well, at least it led him to the sweetest thing he's ever met. Now he just has to go about winning her over while secretly getting things ready to divorce the mom. Stepdaughter for sure has a huge crush but doesn't wanna mess things up and that goes well until her and Nik are alone one day and somehow baking him something turns into him pressing her into the couch and fucking her stupid. I dont really know how he'd go about it or anything but my brain wouldn't let this leave. Sorry it's so long and probably not coherent but take this and do what you want with it lol <3 Love your writing, it's delicious thank you for feeding me <3 <3

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit bc it’s SO GOOD and I wanted to come up with a halfway intelligent response

I think he’d play into your crush and just set up all of these tiny boundaries that you’ll beg him to cross. Like— we can cuddle, malýshka, but no kissing. Which moves to we can kiss, just not on the lips. We can touch— just keep it over the clothing.

Until eventually his cock is sliding against your slicked up panties, teasing your folds through the fabric until they’re soaked and sticky with a mix of your cum and his, his tongue in your mouth the whole time. And then you’re rutting against him bare— well… maybe just the tip? That would be okay, wouldn’t it? And of course you ask so sweetly— you’re never anything less than the sweetest thing to him— how can he say no?

[lostinlovingrevery]

Being Domestic With Logan

Just some ramblings of everyday life with logan,

lazy mornings waking up in each others arms, half asleep, muttering good mornings, logan kisses your shoulder, before pushing himself out of bed

brushing your teeth together. You both are still asleep, bedhead all over the place. You're wearing one of his shirts, he pulled on a pair of sweats (Wait, does logan actually need to brush his teeth? wouldn't cavities heal over? how does bad breath work)

cleaning, either you do it together, or you take turns. just going around the house and vacumnning, doing dishes, dusting.

logan cutting the grass if you guys have a house with a lawn (ooh, sweaty logan, doing yard work? imma faint)

this is gonna sound gross but bear with me- becoming comfortable enough with each other to talk while one is on the toilet. CMON COUPLES DO IT ALL THE TIME. at least talking through the door?? logans 200 years old, i don't think much grosses him out anymore

you're watching funny videos while logan doing his own thing, youre giggling and kicking your legs at the stuff you're watching, and logan ends up watching you and admiring how happy you are

quick pecks on the lips as you both as busy with your own stuff

dancing when you're alone together, in the kitchen, in your bedroom, the halls of the mansion- wherever, whenever

he doesn't let you carry anything heavy- as much as you insist your fine.

booking vacations together, swiping through your phone at cabin rentals, as he and you point out the things you like at each cabin you find

dates. just regular dates. to the movies. to fairs. a simple walk in the park. nothing grand- but something that you both appreciate having the time for. logan prob isn't huge on pda but he loves to hold your hand or your hip and show everyone that your his and hes yours

cooking together- and ending up arguing bc honestly you're both too much of a control freak in the kitchen to relinquish control over food. either one of you is in charge and the other just hands them the ingredients, or the other is banned from the kitchen till dinners ready

just existing in the same space. I def believe logan is a snugglebug even if he wouldn't admit it, but sometimes you're both doing your things and just knowing the other is near can be enough

That said seeking each other after a certain amount of times passes to get a few smooches and cuddles in

logan walking by while youre watching tv and he just stops and leans over you from behind the couch, complete deadpan expression until you tip your head up to look at him, and he leans down and kisses you, pecking your lips over and over until hes satisfied, moving away and going to get his beer

These are just a FEW I could think of. I mean, the mans 200 years old. I think the only time he probably lived something domestic-like is with kayla (ugh). give him a quiet soft life where the most pain in the ass thing to deal with is bills. (Unless you live in the mansion, then charles pays for everything lol) let him have quiet ordinary days!! get him out of the cycle of violence and stress!!

let him and you be in love and you spoil him and spoil him and spoil him over and over until he doesn't even remember what it was like to NOT be spoiled with affection and treats and all the things he likes and wants.

[rie-092]

hihi!! can i get prompt ["Tainted Love" (Soft Cell) Once I ran to you, now I run from you.] for ijekiel alpheus? also i hope your writing and yourself keep thriving!!

EVENT'S ENTRY OO6 : TAINTED LOVE

[ yandere! ijekiel alpheus ]

note: the event ←⁠(⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

ijekiel alpheus was always been the smart and level-headed one. atleast that's what he thought until he met you, his father's ward.

the unknown child that his father brought in the alpheus estate.

he said that you were his late friend's daughter. but he doubt that since aside from being his late friend's daughter, his father refuse to tell him any information about you.

and he noted that you're really affectionate when it comes to jennette.

that's how ijekiel's curiousity worsens.

this guy was really determined to uncover the mystery behind your real identity. that's why he started observing you. he started noting your favorite food, flowers, colors, etc.

and seeing that this won't get him anywhere, he started stalking you. and going on your room, looking for some clues whenever you were hanging out with your friends.

ah, he know this is wrong but he was at the point of no turning back. because he started to became obsessed of your real identity.

and the fact that you play along with him didn't help his obsession at all. you only made it worse, stupid.

but at the same time, the doubt inside him started to disappear. well, that's until anastacius, the previous emperor appeared.

and it was revealed that you were jennette's older sister and anastacius heir. and you only used the alpheus dukedom so that you will be able to help your father achieve his goal.

and what is ijekiel's reaction about this? sure, he felt betrayed. since he was starting to trust you and your intentions. but at the same time, this..... excites him.

he doesn't know what's wrong with him. but everything about your betrayal excites him. the time where he confronted you, and the time you hesitated to use your black magic to kill him— he realized the effect that he has to you.

adorable, you're really adorable.

and so, when you and the previous emperor got caught. he basically begged athanasia and claude to give you to him. and when athanasia asked him what will he do to you, he started to spout some bullshit. surprisingly, athanasia agreed and claude— he really didn't care so he just let his daughter to decide.

and after a few years. there's a rumor about duke alpheus (ijekiel) getting married. yet, the mysterious duchess never appeared in the public eye because of her poor health.

and who's the person behind those rumors? well, it was ijekiel himself. because he want everyone to be curious about you just like he did.

so you better stay still now, love. because sure, ijekiel was really soft when it comes to you. but, you see.... your betrayal changed him and his personality a little. so if you don't want to add the little cute collar that suppress your mana (that he bedrugingly asked lucas to make) in your neck, listen to him, will ya?

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“ huh? you want to run away from me? now, that's not fair, love. you will leave me when you were the main reason why i became like this? ”

[cloversnstrawberries]

"eschatological hope" platonic!yandere!albert wesker & B.O.W!teen!reader [twoshot] [pt 1] ! !

masterlist !

description; You're one of many 'subjects' of a strange underground facility, one that sources their patients from survivor shelters outside of cities affected by outbreaks, specifically ones catered to children who are either orphaned or lost their parents amongst the chaos. One day, the emergency alarm begins blaring; the pre-recorded code said through the announcement system was unfamiliar.

You took it as a chance to run, to escape this hell-- it was the best opportunity you could ever ask for. Too bad it doesn't go you your way.

additional notes; hello! this definitely was just supposed to be a oneshot, but i lost hold on my self restraint and just want to really start off my resident evil writing with a bang . i really love this idea, and i'm a sucker for religious imagery and references, so :) but also, there's a scary lack of platonic!yan albert wesker... i plan to amend that in the coming weeks as i dive headfirst into this special interest on here. it's not going away. help.

also! reader is intended to be a younger teen, around ~14/15 in here, but can be interpreted as younger or older!

warnings; Child experimentation, body horror, betrayal, mentions of the apocalypse, canon-typical bloods, guts, gore, and violence, death of a child/mentioned deaths of children (not reader), child abuse, guns, general terror, non-consensual body modification (the scientists altered reader with a virus strain </3), not very yandere in this part, but oh boy will shit hit the fan in the second part, heavy religious symbolism and references (which will only get more obvious in the next part), slightly soft Albert Wesker, and there might be more that I missed! if so, please be sure to let me know!!

w/c; 7.7k (oh lord)

I was so close, you mournfully thought-- your cheek pressed to the cold tile, a guard's boot dug into the back of your skull as he put more and more pressure onto your cranium.

You were so close to make it out of here- out of here alive. You'd seen countless other... subjects, is all they saw you as; come and go from this strange, underground facility.

It always ended the same, whether or not they tried to escape.

You were a fool to think you were any different.

You'd made it the longest, survived the most tests. You were weak, muscles atrophied and dizzy from how small the portions of the meals they gave you were-- even if they could hardly be called that.

Scraps. They were just scraps, just enough to keep you alive; but just small enough to discourage this kind of stunt.

They keep you weak, keep you under their thumb until the time came to crush you down beneath it. You'd witnessed this many times-- you're not sure how many, no longer seeing a reason to keep track of the numbers.

Last you'd counted, it'd been at 38. 38 dead, either shot because they tried to escape, or...

Jamie had been a good friend to you, throughout this hell of an experience. In hushed whispers, they'd tell you stories of their life; they lived so differently from yourself, having hailed from sunny California.

You exchanged stories about the crazy weather phenomena you'd experienced, the snow storms that hit Arklay county mid-October a few years back, was traded for a story about how the highest temperature they'd suffered through was a whopping 131 degrees in the dead of summer.

But now, there was no Jamie.

There was only the thing left in their place, an awful amalgamation of... oh god, you can't even pick it apart. So many things-- eyes of a goat, five legs; two sprouting from their back like a dinosaurs spine, and one burst out of their shoulder.

Their face was near-unrecognizable, their voice no better off. You could hardly understand the words they were saying-- and they were words, you knew that much-- as they curled their hand, as crushed and mangled and deformed as it was, around your ankle.

You stood there, frozen with terror-- unknowing of what-- no, who, this was; until you caught sight of a chunk of long hair, once dyed a vibrant red atop light blonde hair-- all that was left was a faded red, their roots having grown in a good 2 or 3 inches, coming from what you assumed to the top of the thing's skull.

"Jamie?" You'd muttered, voice small and broken. You no longer tried to fight the hold on your leg, simply stared down in abject horror. You didn't notice the alarm begin to ring, nor the flashing red of the emergency lights-- the call of a code over the intercom, summoning all available personal to deal with a "Code 96".

It-- They, nodded; or it seemed like it, a jerk of what must've been their head. What came from the thing-- no, Jamie's mouth next, made your heart go from nearly beating out of your chest to terribly, deathly still, as you realize what they'd been trying to say the entire time.

"Kill... me..." they'd rasped, all semblance of their fiery but intelligent personality gone, replaced with a simple need to be put out of their misery.

You had no means to do so, but as you heard boots rushing down the echoing hallways-- making their way to the adolescent patient's barracks where they kept you all, you knew that they did.

You sunk to your knees, and you held your friend until the guards came in, one tasked with evacuating the other subjects; not wanting any to accidentally get hurt, because then that'd just be a waste of resources-- pulled you from your friend, who let out a horrifying sort of shriek.

Your hand outstretched, as they fumbled to reach out; unable to grab yours in time, you were pulled form the room just as rounds and rounds of gunshots sounded behind you. The door had barely been shut before it started, dents made in the dense metal scared you deeply-- but the bullets never did make it through the material.

Or because the experiments got to them first. The things they inject you all with, the tests and strange sets of tasks that hardly coincide with each other-- the things that somehow make nearly everyone turn into some sort of monster,

Some kept their mind, like Jamie had, and some didn’t.

You’d had an awful feeling that your time would come soon, when all the weird injections and ‘medicines’ and ‘treatments’ finally got to you.

In some ways, you’d accepted that. The fact that you’d probably never make it out, that you’d just be another lost subject. A waste of resources.

Not a living, breathing child that they stole away from a survivor’s shelter after an outbreak hit your city and you fled— and were able to do so, because you were all alone.

You had hopes and dreams— ones that would be splattered across the frigid tile floor any second now, along with your blood and brain matter.

Sometimes the guards were kind, they gave one shot right at the crown of your head— killing you instantly.

Sometimes they wanted to have a little ‘fun’ as they called it. Nobody but the guards found it fun, how they’d toy with the kids as they killed them— the scientists and ‘doctors’ found it wasteful of their time, a disgrace that they spent more time than necessary on terminating a subject.

The other kids, yourself included, found it horrifying. In the dark of night, when you all knew the cameras weren’t as heavily watched as before— the guards weren’t standing where they were supposed to in the patient barracks, you’d spread stories about how the staff were really the monsters.

You’d say that one has a second face hidden beneath her giant, fluffy blonde hair. The others kids said that one of the guards, a particularly cruel one which none of you knew the name of, secretly had a third eye— that’s why he never took off the guard gear, which most every other one did at some point, for one reason or another.

And as you lay here, feeling your nose shift as the pressure of the boot on your head increased, your face pressing harder and harder into the tile— you come to the dreadful realization that they’re going to have their ‘fun’ with you.

You hope they get in trouble with their superiors— really, you do. Because with the red emergency lights going, causing a terrible headache to form right behind your eyes— and the alarm blared, a pre-recorded voice calling over the intercom;

They shouldn’t be here, taking their sweet time with a patient that’d broken off from the rest. Honestly, you thought you could get away with it, in the chaos of them evacuating all patients; or, all patients worth saving.

Noticeably, the barracks that held the younger kids, all below 6, were not evacuated. If anything, they weren’t making any move to free the poor things— the door still locked, probably.

“You know,” The guard began to say, and you recognized that voice. Oh, oh God did you recognize it.

You thought he was nicest of the bunch— he always did his best to help you. In quiet, dark corners where the cameras wouldn’t reach, he’d give you a hug to hide the way he handed you some extra food.

Sometimes you’d smuggle it back to the barracks, to distribute among the most malnourished of you all. Sometimes he’d have you eat it right then and there, to make sure you got extra nutrients.

“So you can grow big and strong,” He’d say. That implied that’d you’d make it further than a year in this hellhole.

He’d even told you his name-- his first one, not his last one; the one he was supposed to only be known as, something he really wasn’t meant to do— he called you by your name as well, your real one, not the serial code you were assigned when you got here.

“Na-than—“ You stumbled out, letting out a cry of pain as he cruelly, oh-so-cruelly, put all of his weight on the foot currently crushing your skull.

He took it off within a few seconds, not wanting you to die so quickly. It’d be a mercy, considering what the other guards tend to do with the subjects they have their sick ‘fun’ with.

“Oh shut the hell up, you fucking brat.” He sounded so cruel. This— this couldn’t be Nathan, could it? No… they’re tricking you. He had to have been replaced, this was nothing like him—!

In a split second, you felt all encompassing relief; as he lifted his foot from the back of your head— but that relief was short-lived, as he crouched down beside you and wound his fingers through your hair,

He yanked your head up, and you made a valiant, but ultimately useless, attempt to stifle the yelp from the action.

When you did let that sound out— though, much smaller than it would’ve been had you not tried, he jostled your head around.

“I really thought you’d be the one to make it. The scientists worked really hard on your virus strain, you know that?” He said that as if it was your fault— your fault for what? You couldn’t really place your finger on.

Maybe… he’s blaming you because you’d given the scientists hope that they’d succeeded? If you had succeeded, would they have stopped the operations—

Or doubled the effort? You’re leaning more towards the latter.

“s’not my fault…” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut. You swear that they had to have replaced all the lights with brighter, more agitating ones. It hurt to be anywhere when the lights were fully on— the blaring emergency light, bright red and spinning constantly— added another layer of it.

“Open your fucking eyes when i’m talking to you!” He yelled— oh, you’d never heard Nathan yell like that. This has to be an imposter; it had to be that the higher-ups found out how kind he was being and terminated him, one way or another.

This couldn’t be him.

Against your own wishes, but along with your better judgement— you peeled open your eyes, lips wobbling as you were forced to come face to face with both the lights, and—

The imposter had taken off his helmet, letting you have a full view of his face.

It was Nathan. No doubt about it.

“I’d say I actually liked you,” He snarled, leaning closer— your back creaking and bending as he pulled your upper half up, but your lower one stayed relatively flat on the floor. “But that’d be a lie.” There was a cruel smirk playing on the corner of his lips, nothing like the kind ones he’d always give you,

You wrenched out a sob, at which he jostled you a little more to get you to “Shut up!”

By that point, you were in absolutely no position not to follow his wishes, your life quite literally placed in the palm of his hands.

He leaned closer again, and you couldn’t help but let the tears rush down your face at the sting of hurt from his words— which only worsened as he continued on.

“The bonuses that my higher-ups gave me to act all buddy-buddy with you were pretty nice, though. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

Oh.

That… makes sense— why you two were never caught. Why he could get away with it, with stealing the food, with showing you his face, telling you his name, hugging you, comforting you—

It was all a ploy,

And for what? Maybe they thought that if the subjects had something to fight for, that they’d be more determined to make it out as a success?

That wasn’t true and you knew it— Jamie had things to fight for, but they still ended up with their mutated body looking more like swiss cheese by the end of it all.

Nathan-- no, the guard, as you refuse to associate this... monster with the man who had been so kind to you, even if, realistically, you knew they were one in the same.

That it was all just an act.

That doesn't mean you have to admit it to yourself, even if you accepted the fact in some capacity.

But... regardless, the guard, clicked his tongue, looking down upon you in a way that made you want to curl up and sob. "They thought you'd make it, you know? You were reacting so well to all the tests. The virus took hold..." You couldn't stop the confused little noise, clawing its way from the back of your throat.

Surprisingly, the guard didn't reprimand or hurt you for it. His smirk only grew to a sick, sick grin. Presumably because of the obvious show of confusion on your part,

"Oh? Did you not know? They were testing a new strain, I mean-- I'm surprised it took to you of all people!" The laugh that followed was mocking and devoid of any light. Any joy that wasn't founded in the sadistic nature of this guard. "It was modified from a strain made by a couple of traitors-- It was meant for the strongest. They just gave it to you to see where that threshold for 'strong' was!"

...Ah.

A virus? That's what this all was? You didn't know what they were putting into you all, none of the other patients had a clue about what was happening besides what was obvious. You really didn't know anything about it--

But that's it? They were putting viruses into all of you? That'd definitely explain why some ended up the way they did; some mindless, some wanting nothing but violence. The ones who didn't what such things always looked as if they did, like Jamie had.

You don't feel sick though, not how Jamie had been describing how they felt as they approached their death day, completely oblivious to what was happening-- a little more lethargic than usual, yes-- but not sick. You don't feel like your bones are about to snap, about to shift and move and rearrange themselves to turn you into a monster. You're sure you would've... felt it,

Before you could make another sound-- before the guard could continue his spiel, a new round of heavy gunfire broke out nearby-- a few turns down the long corridor, you think.

Then, screams-- so many, and.. and bones cracking, flesh ripping; it didn't sound like anyone was getting shot.

It sounded like their heads were being twisted and ripped from their neck. You witnessed that once, with a particularly violent, now-terminated, subject. That's how you recognized the awful sound as the flesh of the neck tried to follow the way their head was being turned, only to be ripped-- sinew snapping as their bodies were pushed pass the limits of human capabilties.

The alarms-- no one knew what it was about, the code they were putting through the intercoms wasn't one you recognized. It wasn't one any of you recognized-- the guards seemed... panicked, for once. Not for you all, not at all; but because they had to evacuate everyone before they could save themselves.

Something told you that this wasn't a regular sort of rampage, put on by a grotesque mimicry of one of your fellow captives.

One second, the guards fingers were twisted in your hair-- yanking you, making your neck strain painfully as he forced you to look him in the face,

And the next, your hair was released and your head lolled forward; smacking your forehead right against the tile, not enough time to brace yourself at all. You heard the guard yell out a string of curses, before he stumbled-- and you mean stumbled, up; all scary calm and malice gone.

Replaced by a primal fear and terror that you know all too well. It was a little funny, seeing the primary force behind that sort of emotion experiencing it firsthand for once.

You don't see a point in picking yourself up at first, expecting you end to be swift-- for whatever was causing the apparent massacre to come charging at you, uncaring as it twisted your neck violently; just as you're sure it'd done to all the guards a few turns ahead.

But it... a few moments pass by, and nothing of the sort happens. You don't hear anything coming for you-- no horrifying creature shambling toward you on all fours, or a mass of disgusting, pulsing and gory flesh sliding across the tile to attack you.

All you hear are calm, methodical steps coming your way. A scientist, maybe-- all the guards seemed to be in a state of panic, if that one had left you in such a rush; if they leave you alone, if they don't continue their 'fun', or pull you along to continue at another time,

Then you know something is terribly, awfully wrong.

You listened carefully to the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes against the tile floor, coming closer and closer. The scientists weren't as outwardly-cruel as the guards, didn't rough you and the others kid up like they did...

But that's not to say that they cared for you, for any of you. If what the guard said was true, that you had gotten the furthest with their experiments-- then maybe the scientist would pick you up and drag you back.

Or kill you, and study your corpse to see what made your body welcome whatever virus they'd forced onto you.

At that, you made an effort to rise from your spot on the ground. Your elbows gave out the first few times you tried, adrenaline still running through your system-- but you were shaken up, and it was always harder to get up from the floor than it was from a chair or bed.

You were so tired, frail and weak-- but still better off than most. You were one of the few that actually had a chance, and you couldn't just give that up. Even if there was nothing to fight for really, you still had to get out. You don't know why-- maybe it's just in the human nature to want to continue on despite it all.

To survive anything, no real reason behind it. Simply a primal part of you, left over from centuries past; one that not even the most disciplined could stamp down, you think.

When you did get purchase, able to push yourself up to sit on your folded legs-- biting the inside of your cheek to smother the strange sort of chirp that desperately wished to escape you.

That'd been happening recently-- producing strange noises like that of a bird, especially when in distress. You'd been able to cover them up with a cough, or stifle them either mostly or completely, but the more scared you were; the harder it became to hide them.

You managed, though-- the fear of being noticed by whoever those eerily calm, unbothered steps that was a stark contrast to the bloodbath they were certainly just waltzing right through.

One sitting, you did your best to rise from the position-- unable to get to enough leverage to rise just as you were without collapsing to the ground, you got one leg out from under yourself-- though not without great difficulty.

Just as you were about to heft yourself up into a kneeling position, sure that you'd be able to stand from there-- you heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop; you hadn't noticed how close they were until they went silent.

Slowly, you raised your head. The dread and barely contained panic keeping you from focusing on the throbbing, world-ending headache that kicked up a notch as you looked straight on at the lights--

In front of you, down near the hallway; but not nearly far enough for your own liking, was a man you'd never seen before. Dressed in all black, he looked more like an FBI or undercover agent you'd see in a movie than anything.

Was he here to save you? You dazedly thought, but as you looked into the mans face-- his eyes hidden by simple black sunglasses, something told you that you had to run.

This man wasn't like the others-- his presence felt suffocating, like his existence alone could choke the life out from you.

Despite the headache, the aches and pain-- and the way that, deep down, you knew that you could never outrun this man... or whatever he was; that even if you were perfectly healthy, in the best shape possible, you never stood a chance, you still tried to run.

You stood abruptly, the pressure in your head becoming almost unbearable as black clouded your vision-- as disoriented and dizzy as you were, you're surprised you didn't fall right to the floor like a discarded ragdoll upon standing.

When your vision finally cleared, you met the mans gaze, and really got a look at him. The light casted behind him made him look like he had a halo-- a halo of red, like a sun delivering sailors an ill omen, bounced off of his perfectly gelled blond hair. His face was sharp, and he looked like he was in better shape than some of the guards here.

Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be wearing tactical gear-- and when you looked a little longer, realized that the strange spots of... something, wasn't a bad dye job of the fabric.

It was blood, mostly centralized to his black leather gloves, coagulated but still beading up-- one big glob fell to the floor, as the man simply stood there. Watching, waiting-- like a cat would to a mouse, staring it down and waiting for it to turn its back.

Cat's were stealth predators, more focused catching their prey off-guard rather than over powering it with sheer brute force. You're sure the man could do that-- and the reality of it all came crashing down.

He must be the one who killed the guards, the one that caused the one tormenting you to run for the hills like his life depended on it,

because it did, and yours did too.

He said nothing, as he stood there. He tilted his head, his face unreadable-- the glasses weren't helping. Slowly, as steadily as you could manage, you took a few steps back.

And then a few more, not daring to turn around until the very last minute. When he took a step forward, you turned and bolted down the hall.

You don't know where the exit is-- or, really the elevator. Or stairs-- anything to get you out from this underground hell. You stumbled as you ran, twisting and turning through the corridors; your lungs burning, head pounding and body aching--

But you never stopped running, and you wouldn't until you were safe, or you simply keeled over right then and there. You wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop this fruitless fight until your very heart gave out--

Or you joined the number of casualties, head twisted off. You'd yet to see any bodies, any blood or gore-- or anyone else. Most of them were in the other side of the building, and you dashed toward the section with the labs and testing rooms.

There, you think you could find a weapon, or at the very least a weapon to brandish. A weapon that would do nothing, and you were well aware it would do nothing.

The man that had stood before you, the one that set off your fight-or-flight instincts like never before, couldn't have been human. He just couldn't have been. If he had been the ones to cause those terrible noises of sinew snapping and viscera splashing on the sterile, once white walls...

Then that was that, he wasn't human. You don't know what exactly he'd be, and you don't want to find out.

For one foolish, silly second-- you assumed you'd shook him off your proverbial tail. He hadn't chased after you, and even if you were malnourished and frail, you still could run fast in necessary. Could push yourself if it meant a chance for freedom, to see the sun again-- even if it'd be the last time.

it'd hurt, you think. The other patients would complain that the barracks lighting was becoming too dim, but to you-- it was always just bit too bright. What might've been bearable the day before, became uncomfortably bright the next. Not blinding like the corridor's lights were, though. And for that, you'd been thankful.

You weren't familiar with this facility-- you were aiming for the labs, but somehow wound up in going in a circle; now facing the other way, close to where you'd started.

Bodies-- all over the ground, mostly guards... a few scientists, their white coats weren't all stained-- some were a stark white against the viscera covering the hallway.

Ahead of you, the click-click-click of heeled dress shoes called your attention, and at the end of the hallway, stood the man.

It was as if he knew you'd wind up back here, like he knew how inexperienced you were in the layout of this place-- like he knew the layout himself. A smirk played at his lips, showcasing rather sharp canines. The kind that could easily tear flesh from bone with no issue.

Maybe... he was an angel of death, you surmised. It fit, it really did-- maybe that's why he made it through the hail of bullets the slain guards around you had sent his way. How he'd been able to kill them so quickly, without so much as a scratch on his person.

The need to run didn't fade, if anything it got worse-- maybe because you knew, wholly and entirely, that you can't run. Not really. If he wanted you dead, then it'd be so. He'd taken down so many trained guards, a measly, terrified child wouldn't be a problem at all.

All you can think of that could stop him, was morals. You don't think he has those-- with the sight surrounding you.

This time, when he stepped forward, you didn't make any move to take a step back. It was useless. this was all so useless. Why you? Why did it have to be you? The shelter hadn't been ideal, but it was better than this.

You sunk to the ground, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down-- trying to look away from the still-going emergency lights, the too-bright fluorescents that hung above were still on. The combination of the two made it feel like someone was tenderizing your brain with a sledgehammer constantly.

The clicks of his shoes aren't as sharp sometimes, when he steps in the puddles of blood-- they get closer, and closer... until he stands before you, only his shoes and part of his legs were visible to you.

You kept your head down, not wishing to look at your end. You want to die under the illusion that you ever had any choice in your life. That you chose your own end, and it was not brought upon you by this... angel of death.

And as you sat there, expecting the pain-- or simply a pinch before your entire world went black; shivering from both fear and the cold of the hallway, bile rising in your throat and your headache refusing to back down even a smidge; you imagine a world were you got to live a little longer.

Because, in your mind, you died the moment you entered this facility; it was a death sentence, and you should've been able to come to terms with that. It was stupid, you felt stupid for thinking you were any different to countless other kids that'd died in these halls-- some going down with a fight, others begging for their end;

"Look at me." A deep, almost... British, but not quite-- voice spoke, clear and concise. The man sounded... oddly human. You'd expected maybe a reverb of sorts, or the voice to crawl into the crevices of your brain and dig their claws in...

He was still scary, his voice sending a flash of terror through your body-- but in a way no different than the scientists were. It was a very human type of fear that his voice incited, the fear of somebody in a position of power above you.

Oh, how badly you wished to stay staring at the ground-- it was the lights, that was the problem. The man scared you, but you knew you should obey him. Maybe he'd give you a chance then.

Oddly enough, he seemed quite... patient, all things considered. he stood there for maybe a minute or so, before repeating himself. In the same tone, the same exact cadence and words.

"Look at me." He said, and something inexplicable-- something that felt rooted in your very soul, tugged at your mind. Telling you that he wouldn't be so kind if you made him ask again.

And you do, trying to keep your eyes open despite the pain that followed. Nausea rolled through you, both from the smell of blood and flesh-- it was sharp, much more noticeable then you think it should be; as if it's being held right in front of your nose-- and from how the headache worsened.

The smirk he had when he'd first spotted you had dropped, his face now a cold mask of... something. He really did look like an angel-- but the sorts found in older religious texts. neither good nor bad, simply carrying out God's will, who in of Themselves, was a contradiction.

The man reached out, and you couldn't help but jerk your head back-- he said nothing of it. In fact, you could've sworn the corners of his lips were giving way to a little smile, not just a smirk-- but it was gone before you could really register it;

But, he continued to reach out, and you stayed stock still, not wanting to test his patience again. You were already on thin ice, probably. For running from him, for making him repeat himself-- maybe he'd give you mercy, though? Because you were so young?

You weren't exactly a child, but you weren't an adult. Maybe... maybe he'd leave you be. He didn't seem to be hurting you, and when he curled his hand around your chin to push your head up just a bit more-- he was... gentle with it. In a way you hadn't experienced in so, so long from any adult.

Even Nathan hadn't been entirely soft with his movements, too used to being rough with it all; not knowing his strength, or the fragility of a subject who'd been here as long as you had.

You're surprised you were still able to run as much as you did.

The man hummed, turning your head just a tad to the left-- then gently guiding it to turn the other way. Like he was a museum curator appraising a priceless artifact.

When he turned your head to face him straight-on, you winced; the headache reaching an all time high, making you feel as if you were going to pass out form the pain at any given moment.

"Does the light bother you?" He asked, and you tried to nod-- but his grip, as gentle as it was, was all too firm. Not enough slack to complete the gesture. "Use your words." He said next, no irritation obvious in his tone.

But still, it set you on edge. How calm he was. People weren't calm like that-- but maybe angels were. That's what he had to be. He couldn't be human... he just couldn't be.

But... why would he ask that? It's not like the man cared for your well-being, right? it doesn't seem so, the question asked with an almost clinical sort of edge. Like the scientists had when they asked if there were any major concerns with your health, if you'd felt any negative side effects.

Not out of care for your person, but care for what you represented; a subject, something to test on to try and further whatever agenda or project they're assigned to.

"...Yes sir." You croaked out, shaking-- tacking on the honorific should help, yeah? The scientists always made you refer to them as such-- Sir or Ma'am, not accepting anything else. Not accepting no personal address either; that's how you get locked up in solitary for a few hours, to 'learn your lesson about disrespect'.

You were better at it than most, only being placed in solitary twice for the reason of 'disrespecting the scientists' with the lack of it.

The chuckle that followed terrified you, making your entire body lock up-- muscles pulled taut, ready to snap. Spine straight, much like a rabbit ready to bolt;

"Good to know you have manners. That'll make things easier." Your anxiety only worsened-- make what easier? What was he going to do, and how hell was your manners going the help that process?

Finally, he released your chin-- and not a moment too soon. You slumped, not from relief, but from the bone-deep exhaustion plaguing you after everything. Head lolling forward to try and avoid the bright light, you don't know how you're still even vaguely upright-- hell, how you're even still awake. You probably burned off more calories than you've collectively taken in since arriving here.

The world was spinning around you, and that notified you that you consciousness was probably something very, very short-lived. You're sure that, if you do pass out before he does whatever he does; you won't wake up again.

He says something, but the world if muffled around you-- blood rushing in your ears, making it sound like everything was underwater. You came to when he snapped his fingers in your face, it was a warning just as much as it was call for your attention.

You looked up-- or made the move to, only for him to place his hand atop your head, and gently direct you to keep your gaze down. "You'll damage your eyesight. Close them, if that helps any."

He framed it like he was offering it, offering advice-- you shut your eyes, seeing it as what it was. You had no choice in it. Whatever use he wanted you for, he didn't want your vision to be damaged for it.

You don't think the lights would damage your sight-- more just give a pounding migraine, but you do as he says regardless; he could very well just crush your skull in his hand, right then and there-- if he took down so many guards as you think he had.

For once, some higher being smiled upon you; and he moved his hand from your head, and while he was still as close as before, it was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders, not to have him making any direct contact anymore.

"I won't repeat myself again," He started off with, and you tried to show that you were listening-- he stayed quiet afterward, and you realized with a jolt, what he wanted. As soon as you realized, you aid-- almost robotically, "I understand, sir."

A few seconds passed, a heavy weight forming in your heart-- was that not what he wanted? You were tempted to open your eyes to try and see if you could get a read on his face, figure out what he was thinking; if he was about to kill you for some perceived slight.

...But would an angel do that? Even one who killed all these people? If you were still alive, then maybe he was ordered not to kill you. Or, more realistically, not specifically ordered to kill you.

Even if he wasn't an angel of death, if he was just some terrifying super-human or something of the like, he has to work under someone; right? He also said he's got a use for you.

You just hope that you picked up on the implications that he needed you alive for that use.

"Good." The man-- Angel?-- replied, as you hear fabric shifting-- the man moving, whether that be shifting on his feet or reaching into a pocket, you have no idea. "What's your serial code?"

"...I don't know it, sir." You shook-- you really didn't. Well, you didn't remember it off the top of your head, so maybe, if you explained yourself, he'd be more kind... "But if I hear it, then I'll know it's mine."

That can't be of much help. You might've just doomed yourself even worse, tacking on something like that- did he think you were wasting his time? Were you why he'd come here in the first place? That can't be it, you were never that important--

"Would you happen to be Subject 082202?" He asked-- and you recognized the number. Was he really after you? That's... that could go either one way or the either. Hope bloomed in your chest, before smothered by absolute despair.

What did he want with you?

You tried to respond, you really did-- but your voice failed you, wobbling and tried not to cry. You nodded, hoping he'd give you some leniency with it.

Surprisingly, he let it go. Didn't even comment on it-- when he spoke next, he sounded so... not happy, but--

Victorious, you think it'd be. Smug would be your next choice, the emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. It was barely there, but without anything else to witness or analyze-- you were stuck with trying to dissect his tone.

"Good, that's good." You heard him shift again-- the sound his shoes made against the tile suggested that he'd crouched down, and and his heavy leather coat shifted, but in what way you couldn't be sure--

More noises, ones that were meant to be quiet-- you weren't supposed to be able to pick on them, but you could. Maybe it was the fear of it all.

Then, his hand was back on your chin. Reflexively, you flinched; but he didn't reprimand you, if anything, his tone suggested that he... cared,

Maybe not for you-- probably for whatever you could do for him, but it was care regardless, and he told you "Stay still."

You did, and felt something place onto your face-- it felt like metal, warmed by a human's natural heat; it felt like a pair of glasses, the arms tucked above your ears, the metal bridge of it resting against your nose--

"Open your eyes, tell me if it's any better." The man said with a firmness that reminded you of the scientists-- or the guards. A strange mix between the two; maybe more like a cop, if you think about it hard enough. A sense of authority, firm but not demanding.

You do so-- the headache is still there, it'd gotten better when your eyes were closed. You find that, when you open your eyes, the world is a little dimmer; the headache doesn't spike as you'd expected due to it.

As you look up at the man, you realize that he doesn't have sunglasses on now-- giving you full view of his...

Yeah. The confirms it; he is absolutely not human. His eyes looked like a snakes, maybe more like a dragons; red with yellow around his slitted pupils-- instead of scaring you as it absolutely should,

It.. comforted you. Against your will, mind you-- a little bit of tension easing out of your form at the sight of them. You don't know why. It should terrify you, it should make you want to run for the hills, like he had when he first showed up--

With his eyes no longer obscured, and your headache a little dimmer, you think that you'd have a better chance at reading the emotions on his face--

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the present-- to his question he'd had with his earlier command. You try not to test your luck, now able to give out a short, soft "Yes sir."

His hand released your chin again, and with all the energy left in you-- you tried your best not to have your head fall forward from exhaustion, from the loss of the support of his hand. he huffed, shifting a bit-- he was crouching, but no longer leaning in close, leaving you with a little bit of a personal bubble.

A sort of privilege you haven't been afforded in a long, long while. Nobody crowding in your space-- nobody poking and prodding. Just letting you exist. Simply letting you sit there, without anyone breathing down your neck-- unrestrained, able to leave (if you weren't so banged up-- and honest-to-god terrified of the man, but that's neither here nor there) if desired.

You notice now, that there is a suitcase set down by his side-- looking rather innocent. A simple brown leather one, no obvious tells of what could be inside. It looked like one of the head scientists own bag, one you always saw him carrying around. Not trusting to leave it in one place without him present, you'd guessed.

"You're the subject for the Ammit Strain, aren't you?" He asked-- he seemed to already be sure of himself, and it left you confused as to why he's asking you. Because you don't have a solid answer for him-- and that shouldn't have been expected of you to have one.

"Uhm... I-I'm not sure. I don't... know what that is." You half expect his calm, strangely patient, demeanor to change in the blink of an eye-- for his hand to shoot out and grab your neck, and twist until your world went dark. It was irrational (probably), because he said he needs you for something. Even if you don't know what it is, you're pretty sure he needs you alive for it--

it's still up in the air, though. So you don't rely on that assumption for comfort too much.

Instead of that, instead of any violent outburst or sudden shift in his approach-- he seemed to... smile a little at your response. it was small, barely noticeable unless you'd been staring at him for god knows how long--

and, oh boy, have you been staring at him. analyzing him, trying to make sense of it all. as you do, when you're stuck in a strange and scary situation such as this.

"That's alright." He leaned forward, hang outstretched-- it landed on your shoulder, in a strange... friendly sort of gesture. Like a teacher would do as they praise you for an A+ on an assignment. "I know you are."

Then why did you ask? a bold part of you made you want to say-- one you thought had been stomped down a long time ago. During your second stay in solitary, where they kept you in for 6 hours rather than the measly 45 minutes you'd been in there the first go-around.

You kept quiet, hoping that he'd give a bit of an explanation as to-- anything. But you know he probably won't, not without prompting; even then, he might be more inclined to telling you to shut up or dancing around the question then give a truthful answer-- or one at all, for that matter.

He didn't do anything of the sort, the conversation going dead as he stood-- He grabbed the briefcase from beside him, but didn't make any move to turn around.

As he looked down at you, you realized he probably wanted you to stand as well. Torn between telling him that you aren't sure you could do so, and staying quiet as to try and minimize any possible anger-- you simply sat there, unmoving. Terrified, feeling like you'd found yourself right in a damned-if-i-do, damned-if-i-don't sort of situation.

A few moments later, he seemed to realize what your silence, what your immobility signified. He walked around you, standing behind you-- and gave no warning as he leaned down and put his hands under your armpits-- pulling you that way, before maneuvering you in such a way where he could pick you up into a princess carry from there.

Out of pure reflex, you threw your arms above his shoulders-- scared of tumbling over and out of his hold. By the time you realize what you'd done, you were too scared-stiff you amend it.

He... didn't seem to mind it much, though.

The hand held underneath your knee carried the briefcase, the handle digging into your thin grey sweatpants just a tad-- not too uncomfortable, but not ideal. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though.

As he began to walk, he suddenly asked "What's your name?"

Despite the fear, a slip in your judgement made you let out a little "huh?"

He huffed, his smile growing wider for just a second-- starting to resemble an actual one, before reverting back to the small, almost non-existent smirk he'd had before. "Your name. None of the documents said it, only referred to you as your serial number or the strain."

"Oh." This was so confusing-- he kept walking, letting you two lapse into silence; he wasn't rushing your answer, quite the opposite. He seemed to be letting you... take your time, even if it was such a simple and easy request.

Then, quietly, you said it. Almost as if you were afraid that the scientists or guards would hear, and punish you for it-- it was their way of isolating you from the outside world, telling you to forget who you were before you'd come here.

That you had no other name, nothing else to be called, besides Subject 082202.

The man heard you, though. He hummed in acknowledgement, and in a moment of reckless, almost moronic, bravery-- you ventured to ask,

"What's your name?"

Almost immediately, he answered with "Albert Wesker, but you'd do good not to use it." The name... was familiar, set off even more alarm bells than the man had before you learned of his name.

"...So just keep calling you sir?" What were you doing? Why were you doing this? How stupid were you, to push him like this--

"That's what was implied, isn't it?" He responded, the little edge painting his tone let you know that his patience must've been running thin. You shut up, smothering what you'd wanted to say--I was just making sure.

Something like that would definitely be categorized as disrespect-- to a normal person, and absolutely to the scientists-- which you'd defaulted to treating him as.

As he carried you, exhaustion having taken its toll on you-- your eyes slid shut, head falling forward and resting against his shoulder. Within a few seconds, you were out like a light.

[magical-reid]

The Things He Doesn't Know

Pairing: Stiles Stilinksi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Stiles Stilinski has always been hyper-aware of every little detail about you, from your food preferences to the way you hum when you're focused—something your boyfriend, Nick, has failed to notice. As Stiles’s unintentional corrections begin to create friction in your relationship, the truth about Stiles’s feelings emerges, leading to a confession neither of you were prepared for.

Stiles was a walking encyclopedia of your quirks and preferences, an unintentional archivist of every detail about you that others—including your boyfriend, Nick—seemed to miss. It wasn’t something you’d thought much about, at least not until recently. Not until Stiles’s persistent corrections started poking holes in what should’ve been your perfectly fine relationship.

The First Instance: Movie Night

The tension started small. One evening, the pack was gathered at Lydia’s house, half-researching supernatural threats and half-goofing off. Nick leaned in beside you on the couch, nudging your shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, “I was thinking we could do something cool this weekend. How about a movie night? I could set up a projector in my backyard, hang some lights, maybe grab a cute rom-com for us.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, unsure how to respond. Before you could, Stiles spoke up from across the room, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“Yeah, great idea—if you want her to be miserable.”

Everyone looked at him. Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Stiles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “First of all, she doesn’t like rom-coms. She prefers horror—like, the really messed-up, keep-you-awake-at-night kind. Second, she hates sitting outside after sunset because mosquitoes love her. And third, if you’re going to grab snacks, make sure you get Twizzlers, because she doesn’t like popcorn.”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even—”

“You mentioned it once,” Stiles said with a shrug, avoiding your eyes. “It’s not rocket science.”

Nick’s frown deepened, his tone defensive. “Okay, well, I didn’t know. Excuse me for trying to plan something fun.”

You interjected quickly, trying to smooth things over. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I do like the idea of a movie night… maybe we could do something inside?”

Nick nodded tightly, but you could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

#2: The Flowers

A few days later, Nick showed up at your place with a bouquet of red roses. You smiled politely as you accepted them, but the strong, cloying scent made your nose crinkle.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, trying not to sneeze.

Nick beamed, but before he could respond, Stiles walked into the room carrying an armful of books. He froze when he saw the flowers, his brow furrowing.

“Roses?” he said, his voice laced with incredulity. “Seriously?”

Nick’s expression darkened. “What’s wrong with roses?”

“She hates roses,” Stiles said bluntly, setting the books down. “They give her headaches. If you’re going to bring her flowers, go for white peonies. They’re her favorite.”

You turned to Stiles, your mouth falling open. “How do you even know that?”

Stiles shrugged, his face carefully neutral. “You said it that one time in junior year. You know, after the whole Nogitsune thing? You were talking about how roses make you feel sick, and I just… remembered.”

Nick stared between the two of you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Good to know,” he muttered before turning and walking out of the room.

You groaned, glaring at Stiles. “Do you have to keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” he asked innocently.

“Correcting him! It’s like you’re trying to make him look bad.”

“I’m not trying to make him look bad,” Stiles retorted. “I’m just stating facts. It’s not my fault he doesn’t know these things.”

#3: The Club Date Idea

Nick’s attempts to salvage the relationship continued. One evening, as the pack hung out at Scott’s house, he leaned over to you, his voice low.

“Okay, so hear me out,” he said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “What if we go out this weekend? Like, really go out. There’s a new club downtown—loud music, dancing, drinks. It could be fun.”

You hesitated, wrinkling your nose. “A club?”

“She hates clubs,” Stiles said from his usual spot on the couch, not even bothering to look up from his notebook.

Nick exhaled sharply. “Of course she does. Why am I not surprised?”

“She doesn’t like crowds,” Stiles continued, his tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “Too loud, too chaotic. And she definitely doesn’t dance unless she’s had exactly two margaritas. On the rocks, salt rim—not sugar.”

You gawked at him. “Okay, seriously, how do you know that?”

“Because I pay attention,” Stiles said, his voice softening as his eyes briefly met yours.

Nick stood abruptly, his frustration boiling over. “You know what? Forget it. I’m done with this conversation.”

#4: The Actual Date

Despite the mounting tension, Nick eventually planned a surprise date. He picked you up and drove to a small clearing in the woods, where he’d set up a picnic beneath the stars. The blanket was spread out neatly, fairy lights strung through the trees, and a bottle of wine chilled in a bucket.

It was objectively romantic. You tried to enjoy it, smiling and laughing as Nick poured you a glass of wine and offered you a chocolate truffle. But as the night went on, something felt… off. The date was fine—better than fine, even. So why did it feel wrong?

By the time you got home, you were frustrated with yourself. You sat on the couch at Scott’s house later that evening, recounting the date to the pack. Stiles listened quietly from across the room, his expression unreadable.

“It was a nice date,” you said, your voice tinged with guilt. “Really. He put so much effort into it. But… I don’t know. It didn’t feel right.”

Stiles spoke up, his tone carefully measured. “That’s because it wasn’t you.”

You turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, leaning forward. “You don’t like wine. You drink it to be polite, but you’d rather have a Coke or peach tea. And chocolate? You don’t like it outside because it melts too fast. Plus, sitting on the ground for hours? Your back probably hurt the whole time.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke, every word hitting uncomfortably close to home. “How… how do you even know all that?”

Stiles shrugged, his voice quieter now. “I just do.”

The Breakup

Nick broke up with you two days later. He showed up at your door, his expression heavy with guilt.

“You deserve better than me,” he said quietly. “Someone who knows what makes you happy without guessing. Someone who already loves you. I can’t compete with that.”

“Nick,” you said, your voice breaking. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s Stiles,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “It’s always been him. I just hope you realize it.”

The Confession

At Scott’s house, you walked in, feeling hollow. “Nick broke up with me,” you said quietly. “He said someone else could love me better.”

The pack exchanged knowing glances. Stiles shifted nervously before bursting out:

“I didn’t mean to know those things about you, okay? Like how you like the edges of brownies more than the middle. Or that you hum that stupid song when you’re concentrating. Or that you hate when people mix the red and yellow Starbursts together because it ‘ruins the taste.’ How was I not supposed to know? I’ve been holding on to every word you’ve said since the third grade.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” he continued, his voice breaking. “But I did. And I don’t know how to stop.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped forward, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to.”

And then you kissed him.

[witherby]

Please help a starving Anon..... I need more Mother Hen Hal from you...The way you write him and the characters are so good and perfect(idc if anyone disagrees), i am dying../silly/nf

It can have anything you wish to add, maybe a sprinkle of hurt/comfort (let's not forget the queers(BatLantern) too/verysilly)/lh

Yeah, you can absolutely have more mother hen Hal!!! This one is a little early in the relationship, pre-Flittermouse, and Dick-centric.

The Littlest Wayne: Mother Hen (Dick)

"B! Thanks for coming to get —"

Dick stops and tilts his head as the window of the Lambo rolls down. It's not Bruce, here to pick him up from a celebration at Titan's Tower he was just a smidge too drunk to drive himself home from.

It's Hal.

"Hi, kid," he greets. "Bruce was asleep when you texted. I told him to chill out and I'd get you instead."

"Oh, hi," Dick says, a little off-kilter. His grin only wanes a little. "Yeah. Okay."

He walks around the car and climbs into the front passenger seat, brows furrowed. It's the first time they've been alone together since Bruce told the boys that they started seeing each other.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Have you eaten in a while? Might hit a drive-through before we get back. My treat as long as you don't tell Alfred."

Dick nods slowly, staring at Hal like he can't quite figure everything out. Hal just shoots him an easy smile, then focuses his attention on the road.

They're quiet for a while, the radio playing some top 10 hit softly through the speakers neither one of them recognizes. When Hal pulls up to order them some food (and how curious that he knows Dick's usual) then waves away Dick's effort to pay, the man can't help but say something.

"You don't... have to do that."

"It's like thirty bucks, champ. I've got it," Hal chuckles.

"I don't mean the food."

Hal looks at Dick curiously. It's probably the fact that he's still pretty sloshed, but he feels especially vulnerable in the car with him, and can't quite keep his thoughts to himself.

"You don't have to pretend to care about Bruce's kids just because you're dating Bruce." Even as he says it, he knows it was mean and dismissive. Dick chews on the inside of his cheek and can't figure out how to take that back, so he stops talking.

Hal doesn't respond. Dick can't make himself look at Hal's face, so he fiddles with the Nightwing charm dangling off his cellphone.

"Here's your meal, sir. Enjoy," says a fast food employee. Hal thanks her quickly, then pulls into a parking lot and kills the engine. Dick listens to him rustle through the bag and sort out what belongs to whom for a minute, then gently takes his portion from him when it's offered.

"Hey," says Hal. Dick pretends he's too preoccupied with opening the sauce packet for his chicken nuggets to look up. "Okay. I'd probably be a little skittish after dropping a bomb like that, too. So, just listen for a sec, okay?"

"Kay," he mumbles through a mouthful of fries, trying very hard not to feel like he's eight years old and sitting in Commissioner Gordon's office, waiting to find out if Bruce will assume guardianship and take him home, waiting to see if he'd be accepted or rejected.

"I think Bruce is it for me."

Hmm. Okay, not the words he expected to hear, but Dick is listening.

"You've probably heard that from his exes before. Something about Bruce is just...captivating. He's got his own gravitational pull, and I'm not interested in getting knocked outta orbit."

Hal pops a couple fries in his mouth. Dick sees his shoulders shrug in his periphery.

"I'm in love with him, is the point. Have been for a few years now, but I didn't think it was reciprocal until that battle in Coast City. But Bruce isn't just Bruce, is he?"

Hal reaches across the center console to gently squeeze Dick's knee.

"He's Bruce, and Dick, and Jason, and Tim, and Damian. He's got a whole gaggle of wonderful sons I'd love to get to know."

"We've worked together tons of times before," Dick says. He's barely picking at his food, too busy trying to figure out Hal's point.

"Sure. I've worked with Nightwing a lot. But that's not all you are. I don't really know anything about Dick Grayson, and I'd really like to."

Hal pulls his hand away and picks up his burger to take a bite.

"All this to say...I know you guys are mostly grown. You're used to having one parent and don't really need another one, and, damn, I don't know the first thing about any of that. But I'm in this for the long haul, and you can rely on me. I don't want any of you believing you're just an afterthought to me. Okay?"

Oh. Oh.

In lieu of an answer, and also because his throat feels too tight to speak, Dick just nods and goes back to eating. They finish their food in silence and Hal gets out to dispose of the trash, then turns the engine again to take him the rest of the way home. As he parks and they leave the garage, Dick throws his arms around Hal. He pretends the stinging in his eyes is some weird effect from the alcohol when Hal hugs him back just as tight.

"Goodnight, kid," he murmurs. "Go take a glass of water and some ibuprofen to bed with you for that hangover in the morning."

"Yes, mom," Dick snorts, teasing, but he detours to the kitchen with a shy little grin anyway.

[destinyc1020]

Sunday Confession:

I don’t think Zendaya sees her relationship with Tom as a top priority for her, at least not right now. I think her #1 priority is her career. I’m not sure she knows what she really wants, she kind of sounds like she’s not sure who she is outside of work

for Tom, I think his relationship is important but I think he just really wants a family now above all else and doesn’t care who he has that with. It’s just the right time and Zendaya was there. I also see Bero taking up more and more of his time and him getting away from acting in the next few years

🙄🙄

You Antis just don't quit do you?

Yes, sure....Z doesn't view her relationship a priority with Tom, so much so that she moved all the way to London to live with him for years (smthg many thought she would NEVER do!), and said yes to his proposal, and has been with him for 8 years.

But yea, sure.... she doesn't prioritize her relationship with him. She's only been in a long distant relationship with him for like 4 or 5 years. 🙄

And re: Tom....

Tom didn't just want ANYBODY, he wanted ZENDAYA! Got it?

He got her back. If he just wanted any warm body, he would have stayed with Olivia or Nadia rofl 🤣

As SOON as he found out Zendaya was free and single again, guess where he went back to? 😏

He wasn't even single! He DUMPED Nadia to get with Zendaya!

Tom wanted ZENDAYA. He's ALWAYS wanted ZENDAYA..

I know that's a cold, bitter pill to swallow for you, but that's the heart of the matter. 😊

Men don't crave kids like that until they're with a woman who they want to make the mother of their children.

[fakecrfan]

There are few delights in the world like having a friend start to read Jane Eyre for the first time and then as they are commenting on it you slowly realize that they don't know. They don't know Rochester's deal.

This is like the literary equivalent of meeting someone who doesn't know Darth Vader is Luke's father.

So they go "I don't understand why anyone would have a problem with this relationship! Yeah he's older and there is a class/power difference but he clearly respects her as a person and it's so refreshing!" and you just cackle, cackle, cackle behind your screen until the inevitable day you get this message.

Everyone congratulate my friend @anonymoustypewriter, they just found out one of literature's biggest 100+ year old shock twists authentically without anyone spoiling it for them.

[pollux-starsz]

As always, dca slasher au belongs to @wyervan ! Check them out!💖💕

BRIGHT COLORS, EYESTRAIN under the cut.

do you see the vision of them all on the phone together

i was maaayyyybbeee listening to jack stauber's "baby hotline" while making this

Part of me wishes Moon's hair turned out a bit better but I didn't feel like fixing it last minute💔

Rambles!!

- Hear me out but I have this vision of them in a dress while she's in a suit and then she's just checking them out the entire time. Can you blame her, have you SEEN Moon in a dress. And the chest hair? Yeah, she's definitely checking them out.

- Sun intentionally doesn't have the entire phone showing because he's unaware that Moon and Kalamela have spoken about her knowledge on the killings. (In a sense, he never calls at the wrong time. Always after they've finished talking about it!)

Adding onto that, I oh-so excitedly want to talk more about that so hear we go! Moon found out that she knew about 4ish months into knowing her, it was after he'd found her in the back of the restaurant, drunk out her mind after 7 overtime shifts in a row. She just ended up saying how she knew everything but didn't want them to get into more trouble since they were nice to her. And not a lot of people were nice and stayed for so long! To her, 4 months felt like 4 years. They would talk over the phone afterwards and he'd always check in to "make sure she's okay", which he was! But it was also to make sure she didn't tell anyone or did anything to rat them out. Sun isn't aware because Moon doesn't think it's any of his business what the two of them talk about together. Not that she'd ever rat them out, she isn't getting herself killed over that!

- TW: Mentions of substance abuse for this one.

Kalamela has a history of drug abuse, and she does still use sometimes. But she's been trying to go clean ever since Ethan's dad didn't feel like being a huge part of the picture. Even better that the biological mother couldn't care for him either. She'd often use until she could barely think straight. The first 3 months in knowing the boys she'd still been using, but after Sun caught her, the two of them forced her into rehab and since then she's been clean. Ever since the two found out about Ethan, they'd been more strict about checking in on her, whether she likes it or not. Sun's more worried that Ethan might be affected if she ends up using again, and yes, so Moon! She's just scared that they'd abandon her, Ethan would be taken away and she'd most likely be killed off because of it. Whether she's hurt the kid or not. For the most part, her and Moon made a deal to go on a walk any time she felt the urge to use again. And if they couldn't go for a walk, like if it was raining or if he was closing for the night instead, she'd paint or sculpt. The original concept for this drabble of lore was way darker and I did NOT need or want my colorful girl to just be killed off so I had to make it better and have them try to offer help so she'd stay clean =')

- She took them to an expensive, and I mean EXPENSIVE, restaurant that was a few ways away from the Arcade (opposite way to Crystal Cove, where she works), and she spoiled them shitless. And out of the blue, so Moon asked what was up and she said she wanted to do something special for them because they've done so much for her. And she didn't have enough time off of work to do something more proper so she thought food would be the best option because they like going out to eat. Her love language is physical affection but when she feels like that isn't enough, she resorts to gifts and outings and anything else that may be entertaining to them!

- I like to think that the way she confessed was just Sun and Moon staring at her quietly as she stutters and tries to word it as best as possible while also trying to explain that she likes both of them and would love if it worked out between all three of them but it's just the boys trying to decipher a bunch of "Uh, um, uhm, uhn, mm, hmm" and random words because she's freaking out. They did, in the end, figure out what she was saying! Now did they accept her confession and say they like her back?! I don't know, I didn't get that far in my head yet. You share your thoughts on that💔

- I always imagined her being badass and driving up on her motorcycle to pick the boys up and they just stare in awe because she's so fucking cool. Like yes that's their cool motorcycle chick colorful sweet as candy girlfriend let them admire her!!!!

- For the two of them, they all have their own ways of having a moment. For Moon, she knows he likes to be held since she likes it too. They both have some kind of urge to be held and cradled due to some sort of either a past experience or its just a feeling. Moon likes to be held more than when he holds her but it's also a nice feeling to know someone feels safe in your arms, right? For Sun, she likes to just let him go on and on about his day, something he likes and he does the same for her! Just two pretty ladies chilling and rambling each others ears off while holding hands and sharing a drink!

end of rambles for 2nite🎉🎉

[lisannastraussisanangel]

Do you have any darker/sadder fairy tail headcanons?

(Trigger Warnings for Homophobia and Suicide)

Some of mine include:

The Strauss’s parents are still alive, but they were part of the crowd that turned on Mira. Elfman and Lisanna ran away to stay with her.

Fried was raised in a high society family, but was disowned after coming out to them.

Gray did attempt suicide once when he was a teenager. A few months later when Lisanna “died”, he saw what that did to everyone else in the guild and swore to never try it again. It took something as extreme as what happened on Galuna to push him past that edge again.

Like Medusa, Evergreen’s stone eyes were actually a curse. She hated herself for them until she met Fried and Bickslow and saw what they could do with their eye magic.

I'm a big fan of sad/dark headcanons. I really like those! Especially the Strauss one. Imagine the parents being the first to turn on them and the heartbreak they went through

Let's see what I can come up with...

Dark themes below

As much as Erza tries, she hasn't fully forgiven Jellal. Sometimes she'll have flashbacks to what he did while their alone and has to fight it down. She loves him and trusts him, but part of her will always fear him (he's noticed these random moments and it kills him)

Similarly, Lisanna flinches when Elfman lifts his hands. Everytime she thinks he's going to hit her like he did all those years ago. At first it was just when he was using his takeover but now it's all the time. She doesn't know why it's getting worse

Juvia was sexually abused when she first joined Phantom Lord. She trained hard to protect herself and that's how she became S-Class. It was all about survival

Natsu self harms. He doesn't realize he's doing it because it's not the 'usual' methods. One of the main things he does is shred his skin with his nails/claws. He plays it off as training injuries

A lot of the women cannot have children or have really hard pregnancies because of all the injuries they've sustained. Specifically Juvia, Erza, Kagura, and Ultear cannot have kids. Levy, Lucy, Minerva, and Kinana would have very complicated pregnancies

All of the children of the tower of heaven have a hard time taking jobs that require construction. The PTSD of being slaves will never leave them. A lot of them actually can't do any building at all without having breakdowns. (This is why Erza takes on a leader role when rebuilding the guild. She wants it done as fast as possible to minimize the chance of having an episode)

Wendy's fear of abandonment is way worse than she lets on. She has nightmares constantly about the entire guild disappearing again, her friends dying, or worse. When people go on long jobs, she often gets antsy and needs to be reminded that they will return and are safe. Carla can barely leave her side most days

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(i)

“You’re not going to Jungkook’s birthday party?” your friend asked, tilting their head in curiosity.

“Hm? Oh, I have plans with my mom tonight,” you replied with a casual shrug, the lie rolling off your tongue effortlessly.

The truth stung far more than you cared to admit. This year, Jungkook’s birthday celebration was being hosted by Jieun. It wasn’t exactly shocking when you didn’t receive an invitation. You suspected Jungkook himself wasn’t even aware of it.

“Aww, Jungkook’s probably going to miss you being there,” your friend pouted sympathetically.

You mustered a faint smile, but you didn’t respond.

Later that evening, as you locked up the café, your usual route to the train station took you past the restaurant where Jieun had organized Jungkook’s party. There was no avoiding it.

The “CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT” sign hung prominently on the door, and through the large glass windows, you caught glimpses of the bustling crowd inside. The warm glow of the birthday decorations, the cheerful laughter, and the sight of familiar faces sharing the celebration all formed a bittersweet scene.

You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, but the ache in your chest told a different story. A dry smile tugged at your lips. You hadn’t even managed to send Jungkook a simple birthday message. How could you, when every small interaction with him lately felt like a wedge driving you further apart?

Jungkook had once reassured you that you were overthinking things when it came to Jieun, but being left out of his birthday celebration cut deeply. Maybe this wasn’t overthinking. Maybe this was reality.

Quickly, you picked up your pace, hurrying towards the station to escape the sting of the moment.

From inside the restaurant, someone noticed you, their gaze lingering as your figure retreated into the night.

[alito234]

platonic yandere hsr x Reader with the Omnitrix

This work was translated since I don't know much English.

to begin with you are an anomaly you should not exist but hey here you are, you were born on a planet deserted by humans you grew up with a species although intelligent it was not human you lived well until a meteorite fell and there was the damn watch that obviously sticks to your arm and voila now you are a super hero, for the next few years you practiced with the watch for two years and although your family was happy for you and your new powers they knew that you would eventually leave but they were happy for you after all you are their little baby from another kind, you finally get ready to leave the planet at only 12 years old, transformed into a jetray and with a last goodbye you are going to exploit the universe without knowing what awaits you.

stellaron hunters Their first meeting is simply disastrous. They had to kill someone in Elio's name but you stood against them. They clearly didn't take you seriously after all. You're just a brave brat who doesn't know what he's doing. They were shocked when you blinded him before he could see. you transformed into gravattack, you fought transformed into gravattack and you sent him flying obviously none of them were happy but they were still interested in you after all I had never seen anything like you, for Kafka you are interesting I had never seen someone like you a shapeshifter plus I had many questions why a little boy like you had that kind of Power, for Firefly she is curious about your behavior, how you defended a stranger without hesitation. That seemed adorable and noble of you, although she was also upset with you for harming Sam. For Blade, it's simple, she wants to kill you, it doesn't matter much that you are a child. you are a threat and he will It could be for two reasons, one because you humiliated him by simply making him float and not really fighting him, finally, Silver Wolf is interested in the Omnitrix and wants to try to hack it.

when they told Elio about you... he just stayed silent before laughing and asking if they were serious... if he wasn't happy at all, you are an anomaly neither you nor your aliens should exist and now you are a damn threat for your "destiny" In their second meeting it is in Penacony you were simply enjoying the music and the show with your little savings (being a hero is a very poorly paid job) when Kafka tried to use his Spiritual Whisper on you...of course it didn't work against the Sonorosian (echo echo) and you simply multiply to leave her stunned with your sonic screams

Due to his second failed attempt this time it was Blade who tried to cut off your arm directly...he came back with a strong radiation infection but he was pretty calm after all you finally took him seriously...of course his immune system was completely screwed but at least this time it was a fight, silver wolf and firefly were together....both ended up hacked by upgrade and without technology Sam will be out of service and silver wolf's chip was improved...unfortunately it was also destroyed winning the eternal hatred of the lady So if they hate you a lot, after all, you always get in the way of their plans, of course, until that time.

In one of their missions in Penacony they had to kill a slaver on his vacation but there you were they thought you were going to stop them again... but not this time, surprisingly you wanted to stop him because they almost discovered your little home planet and you weren't going to. Allow me, in reality you get along very well with them, they simply have a lot of interests in common like video games with Silver Wolf (you almost always beat him) this makes them have a rivalry, he finds it interesting how you are so good even though you are only If you haven't been playing for a short time, she becomes something like a cool cousin or with the cute firefly who now owes you her life, why guess that you cured her of her entropy loss (bless the creator of the Omnitrix and the genetic repair function) and that's how you won the affection of the girl who is the one you get along with best after all, she only sees you as a little child, she gives you little things like toys that you can't afford because of your miserable hero salary or candy being an amazing big sister

With Blade and Kafka the relationship is more complicated, Kafka asks you many questions about yourself that you awkwardly answer. His questions range from your favorite color to whether you are no longer a virgin. He is clearly interested in your past and how, technically speaking, you are an orphan, which only makes that they are much more interested in you the simple fact that you are so trusting with them something that they love after all it would be very easy to manipulate you and guide you to the "correct" path at their side guiding you like a mother, and finally blade....the evil bastard does not miss the opportunity to try to kill you, from pushing you off a building or in front of some criminals with weapons, he has already tried to stab you and he has done it only for the Omnitrix to transform you into swampfire to resist his stabs and put a strong punch for the attempted murder against you, yes well he simply wants to discover how difficult you are to kill, yes they have a quite complicated relationship after all if you were not so heroic or they were not murderers they would probably be almost friends (except blade that guy he just wants you dead)

They finally have the exslaver and although you only try to take him to a desert planet as punishment... Kafka puts a bullet in his forehead, something that bothers you, although not too much, if it causes the conflict of ideals to start, after all, you are still a problem due to your existence...unless you join them,

Kafka is the one who proposes it simply with a "if you want to stop us from continuing to murder, just join us and you will know why we do it and you will have someone to trust"

Obviously you refuse, you can't just become a Villado, this will disappoint everyone, especially Firefly, who had already become attached to you...the only one who's happy, let's say, is Blade for the simple fact that it means he can keep trying to kill you, the unfortunate one still I try to meet him with a punch from Atomix in the entire stomach, sending him flying, it seems that the fight is going to begin but Kafka stops you with a simple warning "eventually we will come for you little one so either you come for us by the good and we will give you certain freedoms or you will not like what happens when we find that beautiful world where you come from "

you freeze at their threat you trusted them and now this was your punishment they knew about your family and most importantly they knew about you dear home you hesitate for a moment as you consider your options the idea of killing them crosses your mind but you simply dismiss it You're not like that...but if you're a little cheater, you quickly change to amphibian, erasing her memories of your planet from Kafka's head. This surprises the group and angers Kafka, who already grabs the tentacle to pull you towards her and give you a strong punch. "You thought it would be so easy, little brat" Firefly quickly changes to Sam and holds you... you apologize before electrocuting her and fleeing from there transformed into xlr8 and although Firefly wants to go after you Silver Wolf stops her "let him go "Eventually we will meet again" Silver Wolf said amused "after all if that little boy wants to play cat and mouse we will play with him"

coming soon astral express

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Caleb's Return and Reaction to Hate Comments About His Upcoming Memories

Note: This is a personal take and observations with all the LaDS Men. This is not to compare are any of them with each other. Instead, this is a personal understanding on the Boy's Personalities. Reactions and comments are welcome but let's be respectful of each other's opinion.

PROLOGUE:

Caleb will be returning in less than 24 hours. I am very excited and nervous about his return. In my previous entry, I mentioned that Caleb was my first choice. Notice when I say "was"? It's because I am a 100% Zayne Girlie now. Some may ask why do I need to stuck my nose to Caleb's return if I am a Zayne' Girlie. It is because I love them all! Yes, I specially love Zayne, but it doesn't mean that I cannot support the other male leads as well, specifically Caleb who is becoming the target of hate since the his official return announcement and trailer drop for his memories. So I like to drop my personal take on Caleb's return.

THE ISSUE

It came to my knowledge that some of LaDS girlies, specifically Rafayel's Girlies are starting hate comments towards Caleb's Memories. Almost all his 5 star memories that will be dropping tomorrow, January 22, 2025, have skinship and intense flirting scenes. Also the visuals are really something. They are more detailed and vibrant. I truly understand where you are coming from. As a LaDS version one player, I waited a few months just to see them holding hands and 6 months for Zayne to finally kiss MC properly.

So let us go through some timeline, to understand why Caleb, seems ahead of everyone when he was just about to return.

THE TIMELINE PAST. Pre-events on Love and Deepspace Timeline.

Caleb and MC are childhood friends and they stay together until he goes to Skyhaven to train as a Pilot.

Let that sink in for a moment. Before we met Zayne again, before we partnered with Xavier, before we bump to Rafayel, and before we dance with danger with Sylus, MC spend his whole childhood with Caleb. Just this alone has given him so much upper hand and memories with MC.

I am not saying this to belittle the time we spend with the other LaDS Men, I am just saying that developers have a lot of timeline to play with about MC and Caleb. If we are able to progress, with Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel and Sylus in one year, how much more can we progress with Caleb from childhood to adulthood.

Base on the current known previews we have seen on his memories, it's easy to assume they are in a "mutual understanding" if not in a relationship.

I must stress that MC and Caleb grew up together. They are really comfortable with each other. This are very visible when he was first introduce in the current timeline of LaDS. They joke around and touch so casually. As a real person, you will never so easy to be physically familiar with anyone in your first meeting, specially with boys. That is why MC takes time to get familiar with the other male leads.

LaDS MEN and their CHARATER OVERVIEW and PERSONALITIES

ZAYNE The Childhood Friend and Domestic Type Love Interest

Zayne is the kind of love interest that portrays a slow and steady kind of love.

He was not jealous (at least not very vocal) but protective.

He lets you make friends. He wants you to enjoy yourself. He was never rude to people you know and always lets you have your space.

He is mature and see things from all direction before making any move.

He treats you fairly. He is overly protective of you but he never let his worries get in the way of you being a hunter. He is that understanding and supportive.

He was very kind of standoff-ish and sarcastic (well he is still sarcastic at times) But he earns your trust and started building a strong and dependable relationship with you.

SYLUS The Dangerous, Romantic, Sexy, and Adventurous Type Love Interest

Sylus still have the air of mystery and danger in him. Mystery and Danger are thrilling and sexy.

He always have high regards of you and your ability but will still go out his way, just to ensure you will never have to worry about anything.

Your friends cannot be so close to him because of his true identity.

Though you cannot meet freely, he make sure to compensate it with spending quality time with you in a especial place or in his home.

Though he threats you roughly at first, you both started to be special for each other.

RAFAYEL The Boy-Next-Door and Hopelessly In Love, Love Interest

Rafayel is a breath of fresh air.

Loving Rafyel in like your High Scholl relationship. Not overly sexy but you two are close.

He likes traveling and seeing the world with you. He also wanted you to see the places he's been and experience different things.

Rafayel is the Innocent and Pure kind of love. I do not mean that is a sexual term. We all know that they have already done it. Rather, Rafayel's love is enduring, patient, understanding, hopeful and loyal.

He is not the one to express love solely through physical touch. He is more to show you how vibrant and alive things are when he was with you.

XAVIER The Possessive and Jealous Love Interest.

He was never afraid to stake his claim on you. He doesn't care if he is rude or straight to the point as long as no one can get close to you. (Poor Thomas. Myth and Celestial Message)

He doesn't care about anything but you. You are the only one in his eyes. I guess this is rooted in how he has lost you so many times that we wanted you to spend all of your time with him.

He is the time of a person who will give up anything for you.

He easily gets frustrated when things don't go his way, especially when he cannot push everyone away from you.

He is also the type of guy to remind you that you belong to him in a very sexual way. (source: Misty Silhouette)

LaDS Men Personalities and their Memories.

So now that we got over with the Boys' personality, let's associate them with their memories.

Although Zayne is becoming more open to physical touch and teasing us about our bedroom rendezvous, we can never expect him to go wild every time he is with us. Although he goes to step out of line (Absolute Zeal), he is drunk, and that is basically alcohol courage fueling his actions. He even worries we will hate him because of his sudden personality change. It was adorable of him to become all shy again in the morning. He is a very reserved and rational type of guy and that was infold in showing us in his memories.

On the other hand, Sylus is a very brisque and fearless man who never shies away from intimacy. He is always ready to touch you are be physical with you in every sense of the word. He is confident in every way and is not afraid to show you a different kind of good time.

Rafayel shows signs of always needing confirmation and assurance of your affection. This is never because he doesn't trust you, but because he does wholeheartedly. He gave you his heart and you disappeared. He waits for you for 800 years and it's never been easy for him because the moment he found you, you didn't even remember him. He always wanted to know if it was okay to be close to you and/or touch you. Which is why his actions in his memories are always tamed and calculated.

When we met Xavier in the current lifetime, there are just too many secrets. There are so many things he cannot say or tell you which is why he is so distant. It was always, 1 step forward and 2 steps back with him. That is until his timeline update and secrets are revealed. Once the secret is out he becomes more close and possessive of you.

THE CONCLUSION Personalities vs. Memories

LaDS Men's memories are directly tied down to their personalities. We can never expect the same situation and reaction from all the ML's. If they all have the same personalities and take on different situations, why would Infold bother having different characters when they can save creating just one? Always remember that all the boys are here with us to cater to the different kinds of love we long for. If you want a high school type of love, go for Rafayel. If you want to go for unpredictable love, go for Xavier. If you want a very steady and domestic kind of love, go for Zayne. If you want thrilling and sexy love, go for Sylus. And if angsty childhood friends to lovers is your thing go for Caleb.

All of their memories are here to make us all feel what we long for. Don't blame Caleb or anyone if your expectations with your ML are not met. I was once so disheartened and intimidated by Sylus, but now I love him just as much as the rest.

Let your Evol, I mean your love for your ML outshines the bad side. This game is supposed to make us happy and not turn against one another. Let us Celebrate Caleb's return. We waited a year for him.