#Sometimes we ask ourselves... How is he a spy?

[daycourtofficial]

The Shadows Want You to be Happy

Summary: Azriel’s shadows overhear a conversation where you doubt Azriel’s true intentions, and they urge him to rectify the situation.

Author’s note: this is just pure fluff baby! Pure unadulterated fluff. Go to the dentist! Also I didn’t proofread this, so enjoy at your own caution!

His shadows didn’t mean to spy on you, they promise. They just liked keeping an eye on you at all times.

Azriel had no idea why his shadows seemed to adore you so much - well, he could understand it, because he adored you just as much as his shadows did. But he can’t figure out why - they don’t like being around Elain, but most of the others the shadows just watch.

Not you, though. Whenever you two are in the same room his shadows roam over you, greeting an old friend. If he’s been away for a days on a mission, they spend several minutes swirling around you, seemingly doting on you, like they’re asking “are you okay? Did you eat while we were gone? Did you sleep?”

A few shadows have taken it upon themselves to stay stationed with you at all times. He thinks they have a schedule, out of jealousy and need to share their time with you, but they don’t really tell him too much about what they see. The most they’ll tell him is if you haven’t eaten in a while or that time they told him about you having a cold and not wanting anyone to find out. He spent three days in your apartment with you, feeding you soup and taking care of you.

His shadows absolutely do not tell him the things you say or how you’re feeling, or so he thought. Both of the shadows that were asking as your bodyguards came to him, like little kids with a story to tell.

-

You were laying on the couch in the library with Feyre, engrossed in your independent books. The two of you do this weekly, enjoying each other’s presence without much social obligation. Sometimes the two of you will talk, but it’s often followed by long, comfortable silences. Just when you thought the silence was going to stay for a while, Feyre spoke up.

“so, sweetie, how are things with you and Azriel?” She asks, closing her book to turn to you.

Your cheeks heat immediately. “Um,” you say, closing your book to turn to her, knowing that she won’t relent until she gets what she wants out of this conversation.

You had kept your feelings for him mostly to yourself, except one drunken night a few weeks ago you had told Feyre about how pretty he was. You thought she might have forgotten about it, but this conversation is telling you she wants more. Thank the mother it wasn’t Rhys or Cas you had told that to - they would have mocked your word choice of “devastatingly pretty” for years.

“Well, we have plans to go out tonight,” you reply, very nervous about opening up to Feyre. She looked at you, her face asking for you to continue. “We’re trying all of the bakeries in Velaris to see who has the best pastries and hot chocolate, so once a week we try a new one and gorge ourselves on baked goods and chocolate.”

Feyre smiled at how absolutely adorable that was. “Are these… dates?” she asks, smiling at how absolutely oblivious the two of you were.

“We call them dates,” you reply.

“Do you two do anything physical? You don’t have to be gratuitous with details, I’m not Mor.” Feyre says, shuddering thinking of Mor grilling you for details on if the two of you have had sex yet.

“Um well the bakeries are usually cozy so we usually are tucked away in a corner, pressed up together. In one of them we had to wait for a table, so he just wrapped his wings around me while we waited.” You told her, grinning at the memory of his body heat.

“Do you two ever kiss?”

You sink a little further into the couch, your cheeks blazing with heat now, your hands covering your face as you say, “yes”.

“Has there been more than kissing?”

Feyre watches the head hiding behind youe hands nod ever so slightly and squeals. She actually squeals.

The people of Velaris love to gossip with her, and when she heard rumors of two of her friends being spotted around town looking very coupley, she decided to investigate. It also doesn’t help that the Inner Circle has a betting pool on when you ans Azriel will get together. Her bet was this week, so she’s doing what she can to win. And because she wants the two of you to be happy. And because Cassian bet that you two would be together next week, and she can’t lose to him, his gloating is atrocious.

“So, you two are together?” She asks, practically bouncing in her seat.

“I’m not sure,” you say, “honestly I’m a little worried that this means more to me than it does to him.” You look down at your hands, “I don’t really do casual dating, and I’m a little worried that this is just a fling to him. It’s really incredible and hot and sweet and all but.” You look around to see if anyone is listening before you whisper, “honestly, it would break my heart if this was just casual for him.”

Feyre was shocked at how sad you looked at the idea of being something casual to Az. She knew the two of you were head over heels for each other, they all knew that, but you looked devastated.

“Sweetie,” she says, trying her best to console you, “there is no way that that male views you or anything to do with you as ‘casual’.“

“Are you sure?” You ask, hesitation lacing your every word.

“Absolutely. He lights up whenever you’re around and I’ve never seen him miss a function you’re at.”

You thank your friend for the reassurances and settle back into your respective books. You knew that Azriel’s shadows often followed you around, even without him being anywhere nearby. He once told you that they find you adorable. However, you didn’t realize that the two who were stationed with you left very quickly after your discussion with Feyre.

-

The shadows relayed the whole story to him, in part because they, like the inner circle, want the two of you together. But also because they understand that you were upset and Azriel could fix it.

Azriel was more shocked at the insistence from them to make you less upset - usually they are just uninvolved observers, simply passing along information to him, allowing him to draw his own conclusions. The way those shadows spoke to him you’d think that they were in charge of him.

He met you outside of your apartment later that night, dressed in an all black casual outfit. “Ready?” He asks, extending his arm out for you to take. You lock the door behind him, straightening your coat before taking his arm.

The two of you start these dates off by walking through Velaris. Winter has just begun and there’s a light falling of snow covering the two of you.

“What’d you get up to today? I haven’t seen you since breakfast,” he asks you, not-so-subtly reminding you that you were, in fact, his breakfast, before he left your apartment this morning.

“I spent most of the day in the library with Feyre, reading a few books, doing some research. I had to get out of there, the words were all starting to blend together,” you reply, nuzzling into his arm to retain some of his heat, despite his jacket covering his arms.

“Mm, well then I guess you could consider me you’re handsome knight, off to whisk you away for an evening of delicacies in your time of need,” he retorts.

You chuckle and begin to speak, not stopping yourself before blurting, “why are you only like this with me? Don’t get me wrong, I love this side of you, but you only show it to me. Why’s that?”

Azriel stops your walk to stand in front of you, “ignoring your recent declaration of love,” you huff, “I just.. feel different around you.”

The look he’s giving you makes your knees go weak. He’s looking into your eyes with deep, raw honesty, like he wants you to see inside his soul.

“I love my family, despite their best efforts to annoy me into murdering them,” he says. You giggle. “But you’re.. different. The way I feel about you is different. I thought I loved Mor, but I didn’t. I loved the idea of saving her, of being her knight.” He sighs, unbelieving that he’s spilling all of this to you out in public. Luckily the other pedestrians just ignore the two of you, out of kindness or fear of him, he’s not sure. He pulls you into a quiet little alley, in the hopes to retain some privacy.

“It was stupid, but I thought I could save the girl and we’d live happily ever after. Then I met you. When I was a kid, I always wanted someone to come rescue me, and I thought that that was how you fall in love. But it’s not. I didn’t need to save you to love you. After this big revelation about myself, I took some time to really think about what I want. It’s why a few weeks back everyone thought I went to check on the war camps. Well, I did check on them, but I spent most of the time thinking. And I want you, no rescuing required. Though if you’d have me, I’d rescue you from anything. A bad day, my annoying family, the flu, anything. I’m not sure how clear my intentions have been, I figured showing you off around Velaris was enough, but I guess not.”

He paused, a mixture of nerves and intense determination radiating off of him.

“I haven’t thought about another person since I met you. I haven’t even considered looking at anyone else. Rhys has started calling me a puppy, because I follow you around everywhere, and I don’t care. I’ve never been so public with anyone, not giving a damn who sees or what they think, because I want them to know that you’re with me. I want everything you’ll give me.”

You’re stunned. It’s so quiet, you can hear the snow falling. It’s as if the world has gone silent to hear what you’ll say.

“Anything I’ll give you?” You say, a smirk crossing your face, wanting to draw out his confession a bit more.

“Anything.”

“Even if I snore?” You ask.

He laughs, “you don’t snore. You’re actually quite adorable when you’re asleep, hate to break it to you.”

“Hmm,” you say, stroking your finger on your chin, looking quizzical. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to my adorable sleeping, because if you’re accepting it, I’m giving you everything.”

He leans down, capturing your laugh with his lips, his shadows dancing around the two of you in excitement.

He pulls away after several minutes, laughing at the groan coming from your lips, “did you know that the idiots have a bet about us?”

He begins again after seeing your confused face, “If we’re together this week, Feyre wins the betting pool. Next week is Cassian.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, “that’s why she wanted us to be together so badly! Hm, maybe we should let Feyre win, because Cassian would be-

“Unbearable.” You both say in unison.

“When should we tell them? And how?” You ask.

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow we can just have sex on the dining room table, that’ll send the message loud and clear.” He says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You swat his arm, “no, we’re better than Cassian and Nesta. Maybe we should have a banner made. It’ll say “we had sex!” And point down to us.”

He chuckles, grabbing your arm again and steering you towards the bakery, as the two of you contemplate how to tell your family the news that will make them all so incredibly happy.

[emmetverse]

how have you guys not gone crazy? you just stare into the blackness and there's nothing?

𐰬 Um.. Sometimes it's a lot, but that's another reason to stay with landmarks and other people. It's not solid blackness, though! You can see the glitchyness and flickering in the sky especially. But sometimes that's worse, I guess? I don't know. It's better to stay around buildings and stuff for a lot of reasons. Safety, supplies, knowing where you are, all sorts of things.

It definitely does drive people crazy, though. I think Roach was already crazy or I'd use them as an example. He's always muttering about something, saying people are watching us, talking to drawings on the walls, those kinds of things.

And there's one guy out there who just attacks whoever they come across. I don't know if they were like that before or if it was being stuck here. We found someone dead once, and another time they attacked Spark on an expedition. (I think they attacked Rex too, but didn't actually land a hit? I'll have to ask him. I just know he's the only reason Spark's alive :p)

Boredom is definitely an issue... Less so since we got connection up! Talking to you guys has helped a ton! We're largely used to entertaining ourselves and coming up with things to do. It's a lot of word games and i-spy and similar. I've become really good at dots and boxes!!!

[weirdestbooks]

The Weapon and the Spy (Prologue)

Prologue (America) (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Next

Thank you to @jmysty4 for letting me write her wonderful countryhumans x 1984 AU.

America owed Oceania everything for what they had done for him since the Second World War. They had provided him with security, safety, and peace of mind as the world seemed to fall apart further.

Especially with what the USSR had been doing. 

The USSR’s invasion of Europe had been anxiety-inducing for America, as more countries struggled to fight him back, and the forces of Oceania’s organization struggled to protect their own.

Every time Oceania came to visit, they came with more bad news, and sometimes it felt as if the USSR’s power was overwhelming, so strong that nothing could stop it. Then Oceania would promise victories and provide them, giving America a sense of relief. 

America wished he could do more, but Oceania told him that it was their business, their problem and that America shouldn’t fight when he was so anxious and scared.

A small part of America knew they were right. He…he didn’t feel this way during the Second World War, but he did now. Oceania told him it was because the USSR had nukes. America couldn’t think of anything that could prove the organization wrong.

America hated it.

He had his people to look after, his states to look after, and he seemed paralyzed by terror whenever he thought of fighting.

So he was so grateful to Oceania, who fought for America and prevented him from being such a failure. 

America should have remembered that even great people like Oceania could be scared.

“The USSR has attacked your father with nuclear weapons,” Oceania said, worry on their face as they entered America’s home one dreary morning. America felt his heart plummet, fear flooding his body.

The USSR had used nukes against them. All of America’s worst fears had been realized.

Before he even realized what was happening, America was on the floor, gasping for air as panic flooded his body in a way it never had before. He felt light-headed; the only thing keeping him from panicking further was the solid weight of Oceania’s hand on his back.

“You’re okay. Just breathe,” Oceania said, their voice calm. America wanted to believe them; he really did. He had faith in Oceania to find a solution like they always had; he had faith in Oceania to figure out how to fix this because Oceania had never failed him before, and America trusted them with his entire being, but the panic refused to listen to logic.

Eventually, his breathing calmed.

“Are you better now?” Oceania asked. America knew they were trying to be gentle, but some annoyance still crept into their voice.

“I am. I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I had prayed and hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” America said, trying to give Oceania a reassuring smile.

“I had hoped for that too. But since it now has, that means we need to take…measures I didn’t want to take before in order to protect ourselves. Just because the USSR has powerful weapons doesn’t make us powerless,” Oceania said, their voice reassuring America and subsiding the panic. 

Oceania was right. They knew what they were doing, and they had never let America down before. 

“What is it? I will be happy to help in any way I can,” America said. He knew his fear and cowardice had made him a pretty useless ally recently, but these were nukes, and it was his father.

America had to do something.

“Are you sure? I don’t expect you to fight, knowing…well, knowing…” Oceania cleared their throat, clearly not wanting to make any rude comments towards America. America appreciated the thought, but Oceania didn’t need to pretend.

“If he attacked my father with nukes, then he might attack my siblings and children too. I can’t lose them, Oceania. They’re everything to me,” America explained, voice breaking slightly. Oceania nodded.

“Then, would you be interested in becoming a weapon for me?” Oceania asked, tilting their head to the side.

“Oh, hell no! I’ll be willing to help, but that’s too far!” America said, leaping up with gritted teeth. Had Oceania lost his mind? America wasn’t some thing, some object for Oceania to make into a ‘weapon’! He was a person!

And besides…he was too much a coward to be good at fighting. Oceania had to know that. America…he could do something else. Logistics. Planning. Things that didn’t require him to fight.

If the war with the USSR had proven anything, the longer a war went on, the bigger of a coward he became.

“Of course not. It’s just a suggestion. But…don’t you want to protect your states from the other countries? They want to kill them, destroy them, and I cannot be everywhere at once. But if you let me help you, I can train you into a weapon that no one would dare cross and prevent them from ever attacking your states,” Oceania said. Their words soothed the anxiety and paranoia raging in America’s chest, a temporary balm to his fears.

His mind seemed to cloud over slightly as he thought about Oceania’s offer. Would it not be better for his states to have someone strong to protect them? Would it not be better to stop being fearful and instead take action to prevent it?

“You know this is the best way to help me. I can’t do this without you,” Oceania said, something strange in their voice. America’s mind clouded a bit more, and he opened his mouth and began replying before he could even think.

“Yes, it is. I’ll do it,” he answered. Oceania was right. They were always right. Why had America been so hesitant? All Oceania had ever been was helpful before, so why did America doubt him now? If Oceania said this was the solution, then it was the solution.

“Wonderful! Do you wish to start now?” Oceania asked. America nodded. If the USSR was getting powerful now, then he needed to start now. Otherwise, his cowardice would keep him paralyzed.

His head still felt clouded, but with Oceania’s hand on his back, everything still made perfect sense.

Oceania knew what was best.

America just had to trust him.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t know what to expect when Oceania took him away for training. The organization had been tight-lipped about where they were going, saying that it was better to keep it secret in case of spies.

The answer made sense, and America couldn’t think of any other reason why Oceania would hide the location from him, so America kept his mouth shut.

There was no need to question them when they were just trying to help.

When they finally arrived, Oceania had patted America on the cheek, introducing him to the soldiers who were going to be helping him. America was being given a private room, as he was a country, and overall, it was a very pleasant introduction.

America was still nervous about the idea of fighting. 

Oceania and America had talked about it a little before Oceania had to go, busy dealing with so many other countries and problems. While Oceania had told America that his family would be unable to contact him in order to keep America’s location protected, Oceania had offered to run messages when they were able to. 

America was proud to have them as a friend. They thought of everything.

America was quickly kept busy. He knew that the threat of the USSR was close; he had nightmares about it on a daily basis, but the men in charge of training him were determined to work America to death about the issue.

There were no breaks, no free time, just training, sleep, and food.

America felt miserable about it. It was exhausting. The only thing that kept him going was reminding himself of who it was for.

This was for his children, his siblings, his father, for everything currently under threat of nuclear weapons.

He was doing this for them. He hoped they were okay. Sometimes, in the few minutes between going to bed and being embraced by sleep, he would think about them, wondering if they were okay.

Oceania also banned any news from entering the training compound America was in. They were so paranoid about another attack, and as much as America wanted news, he knew this was just Oceania’s way of trying to protect him.

It didn’t stop it from being nerve-wracking.

At least the training kept his mind busy. America wasn’t given a minute of time to worry or speculate, jumping from one thing to the next in an orderly fashion. The schedule never changed; the same thing day after day.

Even though America had become used to the schedule, there were still rules he was struggling to follow.

The worst was how he wasn’t allowed to do anything without permission. He knew that the military needed order and that soldiers needed to learn how to obey their superiors, but in prior wars, America hadn’t been subjected to as heavy a regime as he was now. 

If he woke before the day was supposed to begin, he was expected to stay in bed until one of the commanders officially woke him up. He only was allowed to eat when he was told to. It was a hit to his pride, but he needed to do this.

This was for his family. They needed him to be able to protect him. 

And he needed to not be such a coward.

If he broke them, the punishments wouldn't be that bad; it would just be a reprimand for all the things America was already worried about. 

“War is imminent, and we can’t risk any mistakes in the arm, so we need obedience.”

“Your people are in danger, and this is the quickest way to help them and ensure you are trained as fast as you can be. Your protests and refusal to obey just make things worse.”

America has learned by now to swallow his pride. It wasn’t that bad. The order of the boot camp was…good for his anxiety. It gave him a sense of stability he had lost a long time before.

He was just being paranoid about things. He was letting his fears about the USSR make him afraid of the people who were just looking out for him.

This was in the best interest of his country—the best interest of his people.

This was going to help. Oceania said this was a good idea, so America trusted that it was, no matter how…strange or odd some of the decisions seemed to be. 

So, America let go of his paranoia and fears, and the strange feeling in the back of his head seemed to go away. It was less stressful to not think about any (unrealistic) implications of the training regime.

It was order, and it was comfortable to have that order.

America was going to be a good soldier. 

Then, his people wouldn’t have to fear the USSR ever again. There would be peace, and life could resume. He trusted that Oceania had a plan, that Oceania knew what they were doing.

So America played his part. 

It would all end well in the end.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America hadn’t been informed about Oceania’s visit. He had been walking to the dining hall, silently following his commander (because good soldiers only spoke when spoken to, and America needed to be a good soldier. It’s not like he had anything to talk about) when Oceania had appeared beside him, a worried look on their face.

America opened his mouth to greet them before shutting it, looking back at the commander. He didn’t know if he would get in trouble since Oceania was here, but it was better to check anyway. 

“I need to borrow him if you don’t mind,” Oceania said. The commander saluted and nodded before turning to America.

“Go with Oceania,” he ordered. America nearly rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't an idiot. Obviously, if Oceania needed him and the commander respected Oceania’s order, then America was meant to go with him.

Although…maybe he just wanted to reassure America and ensure that America wouldn’t face any punishment for following Oceania. 

America appreciated the thought. A break would be nice. His muscles were sore constantly nowadays, although America took it as proof that he was getting better and soon would be someone his states could be proud of, someone who could protect them.

Oceania gestured for America to follow them, and America did, and despite his burning curiosity about any news of his states, of the world outside of his camp, he kept his mouth shut. Good soldiers spoke only when spoken to, after all, and America trusted that Oceania would tell him.

And a small part of him really wanted to impress Oceania, to show them how far he had come from the cowardly little country he had been.

They walked into America’s room and stopped as America resisted the urge to nervously rub at his arm. He didn’t want to appear nervous in front of Oceania. His nervousness was what they were trying to fix.

“I am sure you are eager to hear what I have to say,” Oceania said. America nodded, hesitantly opening his mouth to speak.

“I am. I have tried not to think about my fears, but they still plague me at times,” America answered. Oceania nodded, and America relaxed, not even realizing he had tensed, grateful for the confirmation that he did indeed have permission to speak.

“You are right to feel some fear. It motivates you to do what you can to overcome it,” Oceanis said, “But I come here with news, not to talk about you.”

America nodded, feeling slightly chastised. He didn’t know why he wanted Oceania to be proud of him, but he did. Maybe it was because he was far away from the war, and while the other member states were proving themselves in combat, America was cowering an ocean away.

“I’m sorry,” America said, not knowing what else to say.

“The USSR is now calling himself Eurasia,” Oceania began, causing America to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Of course, he was. That bastard was egotistical to claim to be two entire continents. “There have been a few more nuclear attacks on Ai—on Britain, and…things could be better.”

Against his will, America’s fears began creeping back into his head, visions of his family being brutally murdered one by one in the US—in Eurasia’s bloody conflicts.

“Relax. I have a plan. We have also used nukes against Eurasia, and we are at a standstill right now,” Oceania said, “And your states are okay. I have ensured they all have safehouses to stay in so they are protected. I am using all of my power. But I can’t do this alone. I am stretched too thin. I need your help. You need to train faster and improve as fast as possible so I can use your help to break this standstill.”

America swallowed down bile in his throat.

“I can try. But…are you sure I’ll really make that much of a difference?” America asked. He didn’t want to let his family down, Oceania down, but he…he couldn’t be that important to the war. He was just one man.

“Of course you can. You’re better than any normal soldier due to your abilities, of course,” Oceania said. America felt a pit sink into his stomach.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Well, I mean, your healing. You can heal so quickly and take hits that no one else can. Do you realize how many lives you can save?” Oceania pointed out. America shook his head.

“I…I…I can only be pushed so far. Everything has a limit—even that. I know…I understand where you are coming from, and to a level, I agree with you, but I can’t rush in blindly and hope that my regeneration will be enough,” America explained. Oceania frowned, an expression that America had rarely seen on their face.

“I didn’t take you for a selfish man, not with who you are doing this for,” Oceania said, something bitter, something angry in his voice. America recoiled, lip curling into a snarl.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Oceania met his eyes again, and when they spoke next, there was a heavy weight to their voice.

“Isn’t it better to fight without hesitation when you can recover as fast as you can? It’s selfish to think that you need to be protected when you can heal faster than any of your states. You should be better than that. I thought you would be. You always seemed more selfless before,” Oceania said, their tone biting. America swayed slightly, blinking through his suddenly clouded mind.

“I…I…” America struggled to find words to defend himself. Was…was that really selfish? He thought that was better, saving it for when it was really needed. “I thought it would be better to preserve it for when it is needed most.”

Oceania shook their head, a disappointed look on their face.

“That’s something you can’t just preserve for later!” Oceania said, voice warping slightly in their anger. Oceania cleared their throat before sighing, “I don’t mean to get upset. I am just very worried about everyone, and I was grateful I could count on you to help me, but learning that you don’t want to for selfish reasons is just…I’m disappointed.”

America looked away, feeling guilt and shame well up within him. His head felt cloudy, and he couldn’t think of anything that would prove Oceania wrong. He wanted to help. He really did.

“I want to help. I do. I just…I never thought of it that way,” America said. Did his states think he was selfish? Or was this more proof he really was a coward, having the power to recover from all types of wounds and still hiding from war?

No wonder Oceania wanted him more involved.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure that now that you have realized how bad that kind of thinking is, you can move past it. I can have them implement that into your training, making you less hesitant and selfish,” Oceania suggested. America nodded before wincing as that action seemed to make the cloudiness in his brain hurt more.

“That sounds like a great idea, Oceania,” America said. Oceania smiled.

“I’m glad. I guess I was too harsh on you. It must be the stress. You’re always willing to improve when you have your flaws pointed out to you,” Oceania said. “I have one more thing I need to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how your training has been done so far, but you need to prioritize being more ruthless than the norm,” Oceanis said, walking over to stand by America. America wanted to protest that idea, but the cloud in his mind made it hard to get out much more than a small “why?”

“They aren’t showing mercy, so why should you show them mercy? Ruthlessness isn’t wrong if it’s what is needed to win,” Oceania said, a gentle hand on America’s back. The cloudiness of his mind was so thick it was hard to think clearly. America nodded.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. My brain is…foggy, I think I must be ill or something to be so irritable and foolish,” America said with a small laugh. 

“Well then, I’ll tell them to give you the rest of the day off so you can recover. It’ll give them time to adjust your regime,” Oceania said, gently guiding America to the bed, where he sat down, head spinning from the action.

“That sounds great. Thank you, Oceania. I mean it. Give my states my love.”

“Of course,” Oceania said, and with those final words, they glided out of the room.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America had long since lost track of how long he had been here. Every day felt the same, one blurring into another into another. Oceania had visited a few more times, each time pressing America more to finish his training faster, that they were worried about the states, about his father.

America gave it everything he had.

It was all he had. 

Oceania had been dropping off newspapers as well. Some of the papers America didn't recognize, as Oceania explained how some newspapers had shut down due to the war, causing others to spring up in their place. America was still alone, but at least he still got news.

Well, newspapers. He wasn’t exactly given time to read them. He didn’t need to read them, though; the commanders did, and they gave America plenty of reminders as to what was at stake. 

War was already in Oceania, and war was coming for his land. He needed to be ready to protect everyone. It was on him; Oceania needed him, and his states needed him.

The pressure on him was immense.

The training seemed to get harsher every day, as America seemed to make more mistakes than he did before. The punishments for doing anything without permission seemed to grow stricter as the commanders began to put a greater emphasis on obedience. 

“Armies are more effective when they are not made up of individual people, but rather when they are one mass that is obedient to their commander,” they explained. America was told this often. Although he was training without an army, he needed to learn how to be another face in the crowd.

It was important that he learn to be obedient to his commanders.

Not only that, sometimes they would tell America to do things without telling him why, and he was expected to do them without hesitation or further explanation. If he failed during one of those exercises, he was made to watch some stupid movie about the importance of obedience and overcoming hesitation.

It was all part of the training to help him be less selfish, more decisive, they explained. 

America guessed it was working. Each time, it became easier to do what they said without thinking too much about it. America didn’t feel more decisive, though, just…quieter.

But that had to be a good thing, with how the commanders had been commenting on how far America had come and how he was going to be a good soldier. America was happy about that. He was improving. He would be able to protect his states. 

All fi…all of them. America shook the fuzziness from his head, refocusing on his task.

If this was what was needed to protect them, then America would throw himself into it wholeheartedly. It didn’t matter what methods they used here. What mattered was that America would be a good soldier that could protect them.

His pride didn’t matter when it came to that. Nothing was more important to America than protecting them. 

America would be a good soldier. For his states.

No matter how harsh the training got, this was for the greater good. America understood that, and he trusted Oceania to take care of them until he was ready.

America just hoped he was ready soon. He felt anxious, not fully knowing what was happening to his states, and he would give anything to be ready so he could ensure they were safe.

Although, based on the way the commanders had begun to talk, that moment would be coming soon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t find out Oceania had arrived until they walked in on one of his lessons. America had been using a knife to rip apart a dummy with brutal efficiency, something he had long grown used to and did almost subconsciously.

A lot of the things he did here he did without thinking.

But the odd thing was that Oceania didn’t talk to him, didn’t even greet him, instead turning to the commander as America continued running through the brutal motions.

“How soon will it be ready?” Oceania asked. It? What were they talking about? America couldn’t help his curiosity, even though he knew it was probably rude to eavesdrop. Then again, Oceania was talking about it right in front of America, so clearly, it wasn’t that secret.

“Soon,” the commander said, and America watched out of the corner of his eye as the commander nervously looked at him before whispering something to Oceania. Oceania frowned.

“Stop!” They then said, and figuring they were referring to him, America stopped what he was doing and pulled away, fighting down the instinct to salute Oceania as he turned to face them. Oceania then stepped towards America before they grabbed his chin, forcing America to look them in the eyes.

It was a rough movement, one that America was not expecting, but he forced down the urge to pull away or say something. He trusted Oceania. Oceania was doing this for a reason. It didn’t matter that it was humiliating and something America normally would have never allowed. America had to trust Oceania.

 He didn’t want to be punished for disobedience.

Oceania moved America’s chin around a few more times before releasing it, stepping back. America could still feel where their fingers had tightly gripped his chin, and he opened his mouth to move his jaw around to shake off the feeling.

“Close it!” Oceania ordered, and America's jaw was shut before he could even think. Oceania then turned back to the commander, and America stood as still as he could.

“So you say it is good at obedience and its purpose but has yet to fully understand what it is?” Oceania asked. The commander nodded, and America had a sinking feeling that he was the one they were referring to. 

But he wasn’t an ‘it’. He was a person, a country, the United States of America. America almost opened his mouth to say something but found that he just couldn’t, as if something had sealed his lips shut.

He…he didn’t want to disobey, but…what Oceania was saying concerned him.

But it was Oceania, so there must be a logical reasoning behind it, right?

“Yes. We are hoping that with a stricter training regime, it will accept what it is,” the commander said. America fought to keep his face neutral as he tried to figure out what they were talking about. Surely it couldn’t be him, right? But…they were talking about a training regime. And the only person here who had that was America. 

America was still frozen in position.

“I want it done now. Do whatever it takes to finish it, so long as you don’t break it,” Oceania ordered. “More than a stricter training regime. I can see how well that is working, but you have reached the end of its effectiveness.”

Oceania then leaned down and whispered something into the commander’s ear. The commander nodded as Oceania turned back to America.

“These next few weeks are going to be the most important in your life,” Oceania said, their voice full of the same heavy weight to it that America had heard in it so often before. “And it is imperative that you obey them and that you listen to them. Even if it makes you uncomfortable at first, just know this is for the greater good, and the sooner you help them by going along with what they tell you, the sooner your training will be over, and you can protect your states. Understood?”

America nodded, not sure if he had permission to speak, his mind feeling fuzzy. Oceania smiled.

“Good. I expect your training to be done when I return. If not…” Oceania trailed off, letting their words linger in the air as they turned to leave the room, giving one last order to the commander. “Start now.”

The commander nodded before turning to America.

“Come on. Follow me,” he said, and America followed him out of the room like the good little soldier he was. There was still an odd feeling in the back of his mind, but he was long past the point of no return. 

America trusted Oceania. They promised this would be for the best.

So America trusted it would be.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America was meant to become Oceania’s weapon.

It was a mantra that had been repeated to him again and again and again. The cameras around the facility were always blaring the message whenever America was training, serving as a permanent reminder of what he was meant to become.

He hated it at first. He didn’t say anything because he still wanted to be a good soldier, but he hated the message at first. It felt wrong. 

But America has been the one in the wrong. The nightly videos he watched explained everything, talking America through all his doubts and fears and how silly it was to not want to be Oceania’s weapon.

America understood that it was silly to want to be just another soldier. The army had plenty of soldiers. His states had been protected by soldiers for the entire war. What Oceania and his states needed was a new weapon crafted to protect them and hunt down their enemies with brutal efficiency.

America was to be that weapon. He understood now. That was why it was okay for people to call him an ‘it’ or not call him by his name. He was still just a weapon at the end of the day. A weapon that didn’t need to feel emotion or think when it was being a weapon.

After all, what weapon thought?

Ever since he realized that, he had done better in his training. 

Oceania’s weapon was efficient and it was brutal, and it would ensure that the states were protected.

It was still in training, though, because why have a good weapon when you can have a perfect one?

“Attack,” the commander said. Oceania’s weapon turned around, lashing out with the knife as it mutilated the dummy in front of it. It didn’t hesitate, ripping into the dummy again and again until the commander ordered it to stop. 

Stepping back, the weapon realized that a picture had been attached to the dummy, a picture of Britain—the wea—America’s father.

“Very good, weapon. You weren’t even hesitant, even though the dummy had a picture of an ally on it. You just obeyed your orders,” the commander said. America nodded, feeling vaguely dazed. He didn’t hesitate. If that had been his real father, would America have ripped him apart, too?

He was…he didn’t want to hurt his family.

“Wipe that expression off your face. Weapons don’t show emotion, and weapons shouldn’t be thinking while fighting,” the commander said. America was quick to slide his face back into the empty expression that had become so comforting, “We wouldn’t actually make you attack him. We just needed to test how much faith you have in the people giving you orders.”

America relaxed. Of course, that was what it was. Oceania wanted America to protect his family. They wouldn’t really have him attack his family. They just needed a good weapon.

America was going to be that weapon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Oceania was very proud of how far their weapon had come when they came to retrieve it.

“You did a good job crafting it,” they said, as their weapon held out it’s arms for Oceania to inspect, “One could be forgiven for thinking that it had always been a weapon.”

“We’re glad it’s to your liking, sir,” one of the men said. Oceania dismissed him with a wave of their hand.

“There are still a few things that I need to fix up, but then, yes, I believe we have the perfect weapon here,” Oceania said, “Follow me, weapon. We’ll need privacy for this next bit.”

America let his hands fall to his side and followed Oceania out the door.

“What is my name?” they asked.

“Oceania,” America answered, his tone empty. He found it hard to express any emotion in his voice, something that was for the best anyway. Oceania clicked their tongue.

“Wrong. My name is Big Brother, and you will address me as such,” Oce—Big Brother said. America nodded.

“Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked. America hesitated, unsure of how to answer that question. His name was America, of course, but he wasn’t sure if he should say that, considering he was training to be a weapon.

But it was the only name he had…

“Ame—”

“Wrong. You are a weapon. Weapons do not have names because they are not people. They do not have identities or anything like that. They are objects to be used and owned. You may have once been America, but you cannot be America if you want to be the weapon that ends the war. Only when war ends can you stop being a weapon and be a person. Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked, their voice somehow squeezing its way into Ameri—into the weapon’s very being.

“I—I do not have a name because weapons do not have one,” the weapon said. Big Brother nodded.

“Better. Don’t worry. Soon, this will be second nature to you,” they said. “Now, to continue. Do you feel emotion?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because weapons cannot feel emotion.” the weapon answered. Big Brother smiled.

“Good. So if I see you expressing emotion?”

“That means I—”

“I?” Big Brother asked. Their weapon quickly corrected itself.

“That means the weapon is broken and needs to be repaired.” 

“Good,” Big Brother purred, their voice blocking out everything in the weapon’s mind as it seemed to consume everything, “One last question before we finalize the other faults and enter you into service. Do weapons think?”

“No.” the weapon stated. 

Big Brother’s smile widened.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Big Brother’s weapon still had a few flaws that needed to be worked out before it could be put into service. Big Brother wanted a quality weapon, meaning that they all needed to be worked out before it could begin it’s primary objective of protecting the states.

“The states are all in hiding due to the war and the fact that the weapon is not yet in service, so we must get it working as soon as possible,” Big Brother said, addressing the man who was meant to fix their weapon’s flaws.

“Of course. What do I need to do?” Big Brother then grabbed their weapon’s face, lifted it, and pointed to the mouth on it.

“I need the mouth sewed up. Weapons do not need to speak, so it is a useless feature that needs to be repaired, as it is impossible to remove it without damaging the rest of my weapon,” Big Brother said. The man nodded.

“Of course,” he said before preparing the supplies as Big Brother ordered their weapon onto a chair. 

The man then approached the weapon, a needle in his hands, and Big Brother’s weapon froze to ensure that the repair went as smoothly as possible.

Big Brother’s weapon held still as the needle punctured it’s lip. The doctor’s assistant held his mouth shut as the sewing continued, practiced movements that made it’s mouth sting.

Big Brother’s weapon ignored it. Weapons don’t feel pain. This was being done to increase the efficiency of the weapon. 

It stared ahead until the procedure was done, the last stitch tied off.

Big Brother dismissed the doctor before grabbing their weapon’s face, tilting it back and forth as they inspected the stitches. 

“Yes, you’ll be a much better weapon now that we’ve gotten rid of that little flaw,” Big Brother said before releasing their weapon’s face, turning to leave the room. “Follow.”

Their weapon stood up, and obediently followed Big Brother.

[mcflymemes]

SPY / ESPIONAGE PROMPTS, PART TWO *  assorted lines from popular spy & action films

i've read your file.

i want my life back.

you'll never make it out of here alive.

we're probably never going to get that dinner, are we?

for a moment, i thought you wanted to kill me.

thanks for the warning.

it doesn't matter what you do. only matters what they think you've done.

it's not that i don't care about you. it's that i don't care about anyone.

let's make a deal.

you said you could help us.

there are no accidents. we create our own fate.

you see through people.

adversity is a great teacher.

it's so rare in my line of work to find someone who's just there to listen.

rescind the kill order.

you know, i'm really starting to not like you.

the world is run on secrets.

if you run, you die.

trusting a thief can be dangerous.

i'm a good guy. but sometimes i do bad things.

can you fly a helicopter?

i'm glad it was convincing.

i've been building a profile on you.

this is what you are meant to do.

they knew my name.

oh, you made it. thank god.

it's not what time steals... it's what it leaves behind.

i will do what is asked of me.

the news will tell them there will be no more secrets.

it's a simple mistake.

i thought you'd be back by now.

i think one day you will understand.

don't give them all of you. that is how you survive.

did you really think i was going to give you that list?

oh my god, i think i fucking love you.

you don't get to come in here and try to fix everything.

you know where to find me.

that's what we do, right? we put ourselves in danger so that others are not.

sometimes you got to work with people you don't want to eat with.

i have the name of the mole.

don't give me that shit. you were gonna leave me?

i trust you about as far as i can through you.

where the fuck are you?

why does someone want you dead?

you have the power to decide whether i die in vain.

after you turn me in, you will be a hero.

are you good guys or bad guys?

in six months, the information you have will be obsolete.

let's go home.

even if i did partner up with you, we'd still only have one brain.

trouble never sends a warning.

you want answers? get back in the car.

you said you had answers.

i never worked for you.

we're not partners. this is a marriage of convenience.

i'm putting you on leave, effective immediately.

i'm my own bitch now.

do what you can to stay alive.

you must become the missing piece, and they will tell you anything.

the world can burn for all i care.

i wish you the very best... for at least six months.

we're all gonna die one day.

there's another life waiting for you if you want it.

i never had a single day of freedom.

you're not made.

you can have excuses or results. not both.

i warned you about him.

are you going to lie till the very end?

let me help you with your bags.

it's only for tonight.

it's nearly impossible to disappear in the world we live in today.

you knew what would happen once i got into that room.

you've got some balls breaking in here.

you worked for me.

you were too fucking scared to do it yourself.

you must learn to sacrifice for a higher purpose, to push yourself beyond all limitation.

you're wanted in 18 different countries.

we're armed because we mistrust each other.

the world is in chaos.

truth and lies. people like us don't know the difference.

who won? and what was the fucking game anyway?

they will come after you, wherever you are.

tell him i have what he wants.

when you tell the truth, you look different. your eyes change.

[fic-heaven]

Hi chickie. I saw the other day on a random TikTok that some soldiers eat steak and lobster when they are about to do a dangerous mission that will probably cost them their death. Can u write something like that with someone of your choosing?

Steak n' lobster (Gus x reader)

Angst.

🐥You know who imma'bout to choose uwu.

Btw I didn't know it meant straight up death?? I thought they ate this when their deployment extended or smth but I don't know.

Very short short!!

.

"Say, where is this mission happening exactly?"

"Do you really need to go solo?"

"Is the captain aware your knee is still recovering...?"

"Mi vida, you'll text or call me whenever you can, right? I don't doubt your habilites, no, no, no... I'm just..."

Worried. He was worried.

Normally you'd tell Gus all about your missions, even stuff you were not supposed to share. But this time when he bombarded you with questions about this particular mission you were assigned to accomplish alone so far from the base and this bloody country, you didn't give him clear answers insisting you couldn't share much about what your unit was cooking. In truth you weren't lying.

Price had strictly ordered you to stay quiet about the matter, specially about the fake death you had to play in order to keep the enemy off your radar so you could spy on them. Your captain knew of the "unprofessional" relationship you had with Gustavo Rodriguez, and as much as he supported your love for each other he pressed you to NOT tell Gus a word about this or else... You never asked what "or else" implied. But when the topic waltzed around Gus, you made sure to straighten your back and obey as long as you two could still remain side by side.

Thanks to SpecGru's alliance with 141 both parties shared a base facilitating your collaborations immensely. Sincere this wasn't SpecGru's main HQ, one of it's leaders amongst some squads resided here and that's how you and Gus met.

It fist started with a tease during a rescue mission, later he invited you to share dinner with him on his table, one thing led to the other and you two shared a bed countless nights after that. It's been over a year and a half and your bond did nothing but strengthen. But this mission... You were sure It'd break him... And you were feeling guilty as hell for accepting, but you didn't have any other choice. This was your job after all.

"Gus. Baby..." You breathed out in a slight warning tone when your lover shot you the seventh question about this mission.

His eyes were calm but concerned as he sat next to you on your table in the far corner of the mess hall where no one could disturb you two, his food was long forgotten as his gloved hands approached taking yours, his thumbs brushed your palms in encouragement for you to continue. "Dime."

How could you tell him? Price had forbidden you from speaking a word about your future fake death and yet. You look at your lover's eyes, so warm and full of open affection and concern, his discomfort about not knowing where you'll be heading and for how long was clear in his golden irises. Gus' characteristic playful demeanor was non-existent when it came to your safety, soldier or not, you will always be his princess, his love, and later in a few months, with little luck, even his fiance.

"There are some things we have to do in this line of work... Some... Unfortunate decisions have to be made, and sometimes not by ourselves but by our superiors..."

The Rican didn't like the way this was going, olive skin went clammy with sweat as the thousand bad thoughts he have been having this whole morning projected in real life. You couldn't meet his intense stare but you did squeeze his hands reassuringly as If reminding him that you were here, that you were real, as if whatever you were about to say would change his life for the worse.

You opened your mouth to continue but suddenly Soap made presence in your table, here to bring you your food tray and the sight was enough to rob the words from you mouth and for Gus to abruptly stand up with a scandalized look.

Steak and lobster.

"You can't. I forbid it." He scoffed, his voice shaky. Golden eyes glared daggers at the food tray Soap was nudging your way in silence.

"Gus-"

"NO!" The loud yell from the Rican followed by the loud clash that came from his fists colliding against the table rattling the trays echoed through the mess hall, a thousand heads turned your way.

But the only stare that caused you stress at that moment was Price's. The captain was leaning on the wall right behind Gus, his face was enough to get the order right. There was no time for your last meal, you had to sail right away.

"Forgive me, love..."

[this-is-spn20]

Yandere!Sam Winchester Headcanons

A/N: yes i know I dipped out for a few months but I got inspo for this from browsing another fandom and tried looking for yandere fics of our favorite boys but couldn’t find any! If you want something right, you have to do it yourself lol. Requests are always open! 

Spread Love! 

-Marissa

WARNING: These headcanons are written with an unaware/unwilling reader! There will be the theme of stalking, harassment, unwanted attention, manipulation, and abuse (not sexual). Please do not read this if you are not comfortable with these graphic stories. Your consumption of media is not my responsibility.

***MDNI***

I DID NOT COME UP WITH THE LIST. ALL RIGHTS GO TO @dear-yanderee !

Word Count: 4,428

Suggested song while listening: Be My Queen by Seafret

---------------

Sam may be (slightly) delusional, but he’s smart. And can be a bit sadistic, but he’s smarter than the average person, that’s for sure. Using his computer knowledge to spy on any and all social media you have. Hacking into your account while you were sleeping (he never made the effort of watching you in person, no no doll, you could possibly see him and it’d ruin everything. Just wait for him, Just a little bit longer.). He knew when you were sleeping because your laptop or phone wouldn’t have any activity for a while, meaning he could snoop around for a bit before you woke up. Took him weeks to dig through every square inch of your online life All your records, he’d print them out and clear his history so as to not set off Dean’s alarms or interest. Even though Dean knows something is up. 

Compared to Dean, Sam just knows how to persuade you into liking him. Incorporating himself into your life without you knowing. Making himself ‘small’, a background character.  That dickbag that bumped into you while walking in the park when there was CLEARLY enough room for him to pass by without nearly knocking you down (he didn’t even bother being gentle), well at that time, you didn’t know what a bad day truly was. Hell, if you’d just run up to him and cursed him out, you probably would’ve saved yourself a lot of grief. Probably. (Honestly, it probably would’ve made him more intrigued.) 

Working double, sometimes even triple shifts, are bad enough. But when your job is to stock shelves in the only (and by proxy) biggest store in town, it’s just more strain and stress. So when some big old, lanky, buff asshat shows up in your store and almost completely wrecks one of your perfectly stocked shelves, you get a tiny bit upset. As you take two carts to take all the stuff down, your boss radios you to tell you to have two more shelves stocked up before your next break for the big sale. And to tell you that you’re on call for the rest of the week. Whoever that asshole was, you wished to see him so you could tell him about himself. Or beat his ass. Or both.

Little did poor, naive little you know that over the course of those first five, horrible, months that Sam was programming your mind already. You never saw his face, but he was showing that, while he could make your life so unbearable at a moment's notice, but he chose to do good. To do right by you. He showed how bad it could get before he swooped in and put on his deadly charm. First coming up to you in the store while you were stocking an aisle and asking where the candles were. When you told him, he thanked you and struck up a conversation. Using everything he knew you’d like to hear to rope you in. He made sure the first time you met him, you’d never forget him. Ever. 

Now you’re just his little doll. Doomed to be locked up in the dungeon until you proved to be good for him. Then love, you’ll be allowed in his room! You may even get your privileges back. Only if you’re a good girl for him. Just for him.  He knew it was only a matter of time now before you break. He just had to be a little more patient. Then you were all his. 

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s start over, shall we darlings?

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Giving gifts is his forte. When hacking into your computer, he made sure to make a list of your likes and dislikes. He knows your favorite movies, political views, your full name and date of birth, your blood type, your father’s dog’s name, everything. He saw the things you liked to buy online. Things you saved to your carts but could never afford to buy at the moment. So whatever is in your cart from whatever website, no matter the price, Sam takes it upon himself to buy the items and have them sent as gifts to your house. Anonymously of course. He loved seeing your face light up with surprise terror as you opened your door to yet another package on your porch with more items you planned on buying at the end of the month. If you could afford it of course. You wondered who was sending these packages. Someone you knew? But, you rarely showed anyone these wished possessions of yours. Was someone… watching you? I mean you always felt this… uneasy feeling in your chest lately. Maybe you should schedule a check-up with the doc. 

Giving gifts is his forte. When hacking into your computer, he made sure to make a list of your likes and dislikes. He knows your favorite movies, political views, your full name and date of birth, your blood type, your father’s dog’s name, everything. He saw the things you liked to buy online. Things you saved to your carts but could never afford to buy at the moment. So whatever is in your cart from whatever website, no matter the price, Sam takes it upon himself to buy the items and have them sent as gifts to your house. Anonymously of course. He loved seeing your face light up with surprise **terror** as you opened your door to yet another package on your porch with more items you planned on buying at the end of the month. If you could afford it of course. You wondered who was sending these packages. Someone you knew? But, you rarely showed anyone these wished possessions of yours. Was someone watching you? You always felt this… uneasy feeling in your chest lately. Maybe you should schedule a check-up with the doc. 

First, it was some makeup and a few nice dresses you wanted. You figured you’d still somehow ordered them. Even though your bank account didn't reflect such purchases. Still not convincing, even to yourself but, it was better than dwelling on ‘what-if’ questions. But as the gifts kept coming you got more and more… **concerned.** You’d confronted your coworker later the day after your umpteenth package. You told him that you appreciated his company while stocking the shelves, but you didn’t feel anything for him. To your annoyance, your coworker responded in complete confusion. When you told him to stop feigning ignorance he was positively confused. You and he didn’t know each other that well outside of work, so for this to be coming from you made him a bit angry. When you plainly told him what you thought had been doing, he told you to be careful, but he wasn’t the one doing it. In hindsight, you thought it was nice of him to express his concern. When he offered to walk you to your car that night, you were skeptical, but you let him do it. 

Sam didn’t take too kindly to that.

But Sam decided to cool down on the packages. Now he thought was the time to make himself more involved in your day-to-day life. Small run-ins, nothing alarming but you knew who he was now. It started with him paying for your favorite drink at the local cafe you loved so much. He kept his cool and acted like it was just such a coincidence to run into you! How have you been holding up? He even took to finishing your book collection for your most recent series. Maybe taking to replace your worn books. You didn’t notice until you picked up one of your favorite novels and had to crack the spine. Indicating it was brand new. Things really got intense when you walked out to your car one morning and saw all your tires were replaced. When you got in, a note on your steering wheel simply said, “Your tires we going bald. You’re welcome.”  You started getting more scared as the days passed. This person managed to get into not just your car, but also your house. A safe place. Your heaven. At least that’s what it used to be. 

You were terrified to leave your house every day. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Well, Sam being Sam prefers to keep his hands clean as much as possible. Plus him hurting anyone close to you will make you even more challenging to get. He also knows what losing someone feels like. Even more than you actually. Why would he choose to make things harder between you two if being with you and only you is his ultimate goal? Come on, don’t be silly. It’d do nothing for him to see you so hurt. Who wants to see their soulmate in pain? 

Unless it was absolutely necessary.

Like maybe one day you’re feeling a bit rowdy. You have a lot of fight, Sam had to give that to you. But why are you so insistent on staying apart? He can’t love you from afar, he refuses to live without your love. He’ll do anything to keep you with him. But as patient as Sam could be, there are only so many times you can push his buttons, love. Now if you keep fighting, I’ll have to punish you. We don’t want that, do we? After all, broken bones take a long time to heal… But don’t you worry princess, he’ll fix you right up!

With mandatory bed rest included.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Sam is a very loving person, so he wouldn’t really mock you at all. If you’re not trying to escape. If you are, you can expect to be tsked at and hear phrases such as

“Oh darling, I thought you knew better than to try something so stupid.”

“If you wanted to wear your chain today, you could’ve asked love.” 

“Princess, you can’t get away from me. I will always see through your little plan. Your eyes tell me everything.”

If you’ve managed to piss him off (which takes a lot of effort so… go you?), you can expect him to leave you with more cuts and bruises than you could imagine. Just remember love, the more you fight, the angrier he gets…

And no, your begging and pleading will get you nowhere. But it hurts him more than it does you. You deserved it. It was for your own good darling. Trust him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

No. Absolutely not. Sam knows love will come with time. He would never hurt you by doing anything you didn’t want him to. Including simply touching you (but isolation is a bitch babe.). Honestly, the only thing he is willing to do against your will is feed you. Especially if you go on a hunger strike. He will not allow anyone to hurt you. Not even you, and damn sure not him. He’d probably force-feed you through a tube. Same thing with being hydrated. He can't let his good girl starve now, can he? What kind of man would he be to let that happen, princess?

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Sam gives his whole heart and soul to you. He is a straight sucker for you honestly. He dotes on you a lot. Tries spoiling you with things he knows you’ll like. If you weren't in chains…

He tries to get you to open up to him by telling you everything about himself. To hunting, to what his favorite pair of socks were in middle school. Sam shows you sides of himself that not even Jessica got to see. He doesn't want to scare you so he almost shrinks himself to be smaller. Less threatening. Less dangerous. Honestly, if you’re smart, you could use this against him. You can start slowly opening up to him. Give as little information as possible and start planning your escape. Sam won't trust you to be out of the dungeon, or even your chains, for a while. But you’ve got nothing but time daring. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

At first, it’d be almost amusing. If it didn’t happen so much he’d probably get a chuckle out of it. He hates having to use forceful ways to calm you down but he has no choice. He’s used more chloroform than he’d like but it was worth it. But the chemical burns on your face make him really emotional. He may look into paralyzing spells to quail your attempts. If he does find such a spell, you’re fucked. Not completely, but it's not looking good for you, love. He feels like you both are in some loop. Like a cat-and-mouse game, though it’s getting tedious. 

There is one upside to this though. These attempts of escape and fights give him an idea of how your brain works. Your fight style, and the ways you attempt to run from him and the bunker, give him more useful information and ways to stop your plans. Eventually, you can’t get out of the dungeon without at least 5 alarms tipping off Sam before you can even turn the door nob. Do with this information as you will, darling.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This is not a game to him. This isn't amusing in the slightest bit. Watching you try to get away from him hurts him deeply. You two are soulmates. Why can't you see this? Why run from him when he can give you the world. He waits on you hand and foot. He caresses you with the lightest touch. He gives you almost everything you ask from him. He will bring you the biggest, brightest star in the universe if you just love him, and let him love you. Open up to him. Adore him, like he adores you. Get lost in him and everything he is, like he does with you. You’ll do that for him, right doll?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Believe it or not, but your worst experience with Sam wasn't when he occasionally snapped at you for your smart mouth. It wasn’t when he forced you to eat to keep yourself alive for him. Always for him. 

It wasn’t even the time he came back from a hunt gone wrong and an argument with Dean once again, and Sam had come into the dungeon for the first time in a week. When he tried to land a kiss on your cheek, you’d headbutt him. Sam snapped and hurled harsh words your way, and you were struggling against the chains, Sam had enough of your shit so he grabbed your arm and slowly, very, very slowly twisted it behind your back until, through your screaming, you heard a sickening crack from your arm. Your ear-splitting screaming was heard throughout the whole bunker and you collapsed into darkness. Praying that this was your end. But when you woke up to some beige room on an old musty bed with a cast on your arm, you couldn’t stop the sob that ripped through your chest. Only for Sam to immediately wrapped his arms around you and coo at your tears rolling into his shirt. Declaring he’d never bring harm to you again, although the scars covering your skin told you otherwise. 

No, you see, the worst experience for you, dealing with Sam, was the day you realized you needed him. That you loved him. How could you not see it earlier? Sam’s doting nature, his soft smile, the obsession adoring look in his eyes, his velvet touch. Everything that was him. You loved him. You loathed him. He took everything from you, yet had given you so much. He gave himself to you. Trusted you with his very soul. And here you were. Being selfish, greedy, mean-spirited, reclusive, disrespectful, and just plain stupid. Sam could have anyone he wanted. But he wanted you, and you had the audacity to not love him back? Stupid and horrible. You hoped it wasn’t too late to win his heart.

Wait. This… isn’t right. Is it?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He wants to enable you in all of your passions and hobbies. He wants the not-exactly-white-picket-fence-lifeTM with you. You and the front porch relaxing, watching him work in the front yard and you smiling at him ever so brightly. He wants to watch you take care of your plants and gardens, in a huge house that he worked so hard to get for you. For the both of you. Watching you take care of your many dogs and cats around the house.

And running after you around the living room and kitchen, just to catch you. Him carrying you up the stairs while looking into each other's eyes. Him smirking down at you, knowing it's gonna be another long night of passionate sex and lovemaking. In the morning, waking you up with gentle kisses and licks and biting. Teasing you out of your dreams. Dreams filled with nothing but him. Going into the kitchen to help you make breakfast. You lightly scolded him after him messing up, because he could help thinking how sexy you look in his shirts. Passion-filled make-out sessions with teenage-level humping and grinding. Sam always finds himself in these fantasies, only to snap back into reality all too soon. Then he remembers you must be so cold and hungry in that old dungeon. But he knows that one day he’ll get to live out all of that with you and so much more. Not today, but one day. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Well, he doesn’t have to be jealous because you don't even go outside… 

Though he does keep a close eye on Dean. Knowing how he can be. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Sam is ecstatic when you finally allow him to touch you. His hands have been itching to cover every single inch of your body. He loves the way your skin feels on his hardened calloused hands. Your skin was still a bit rough from the scars Sam’s hands left behind. Those same hands touching you as if you were the best prize on earth. And to Sam, you definitely were. Kisses galore. When you initiated the first kiss, it was hesitant and a bit clumsy, but Sam cherished the way your lips trembled against his. Nothing mattered to him anymore at that moment. Only you. Always you. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

As stated before, Sam relished the fact that you (subconsciously) knew he was always there. Sam always found a way to be a background character in your life. A supporting role. If you will. Always the blurry face in the crowd. But always there. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Oh yes. He is very much different in different environments. He’ll coddle and hug and kiss you near death. He’s almost always in a good mood when he’s spending time with you. Happy BoiTM. When he’s with Dean, he’s pretty normal. They typical brother teasing, the good moments, the bad ones. Sam acts like he always acted before you came along and rocked his world. The same goes for Donna, Jody, Alez, and Claire. The interactions are the same. But when with you, he can't focus on anything else but you. That's also the reason why he won't bring his research into the dungeon/room when you're there. He wants to show you that he can separate work and home life. With you, he lets his obsession love for you run free. He just can’t hide how he feels about you, love. Also, cause he can’t focus with you around. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation mostly, yet if you show yourself to be resistant to that, he’ll use physical pain and manipulation.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Almost all of your rights are taken from you. You can’t use any means of communication (unless you found some way to get hold of a spell.), You aren’t allowed to use any electronics unless Sam is practically attached to your skin. The only thing you can do is use the bathroom alone. Sam will allow you a few minutes in there depending on what you’re doing. But he’s taking everything that helps you escape out of there, even the mirror… You can’t be alone when you shower though. Sam will stand there, in the hot and humid bathroom and watch your every move as you shower. When you’re done, he’ll help you dry off and help you rub your lotion on your now rough and scared skin with nothing but utter devotion swimming in his eyes. Your night clothes will be put on by him as well. All of this will be done with the lightest, silk touch. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Extremly patient. Most days, he’ll put up with you and your shenanigans. But some days, when he’s in a bad mood or just generally tense, he’ll have a shorter fuse. You’ve learned to follow his orders on these days. Lest you’d like to go back into the dungeon…

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Sam would never let you go easily so I’d say death really could be your only escape, and even then, thats not a guarantee. He could always make a crossroads deal, or bargain with Crowley. Hell he’d even try bargaining with Death himself. He’ll torture a thousand demons to get you back. Sam will walk through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven to get to you. Sam will go as far as kill himself in hopes he can follow you to heaven be with you eternally. Sure he’d feel guilty about leaving Dean, but he’d be with you. He can live with that. After all, how many times had Dean left him, only to beg Sam to move on?

Now if you had escaped and were able to stay hidden, either by the help of some angels or demons or the other he’ll search the ends of the Earth to find you. If he wasn’t able to find you by himself, he’d enlist in Dean, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Charlie, and other trusted hunters, hell he’d even ask Rowena to help. If all of them together weren’t able to find you, Sam would never get over you. He’d grieve you every day while you celebrate getting away from him.  

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

While Sam would never let you go, he’d feel incredibly guilty about taking you away from your home, your friends, your family, and your life. With him, Dean, and John constantly moving around due to hunting, he knows exactly how you feel.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Yes, in fact, his childhood and early adult life were a factor, constantly losing new friends to the hunting life, and then losing Jessica, his father, Dean more than once, and more people he could count. This, as one would imagine, would leave an impression on even the toughest people. Not to mention being bullied at a young age and not being accepted in any social groups just for being who he was. So when he first saw you, he knew he wanted you, and he wouldn’t risk you not accepting him, or being taken from him. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Hearing you scream and cry makes his whole body shiver as tears sting in his eyes. He’d do anything you’d like to see you only smile for the rest of your days together. Hearing your sobs late into the night makes his body feel as if he’s being dipped into the hottest lakes of fire. You could swear one day, you could hear the cracking of his heart as he watched you cry one day. You’d also notice how his tears would fall at the same time as yours did. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

On days when you’d been extra good, he’d take you for a ride in the Impala up to his favorite stargazing hill and bring a book and blanket. He’d read to you as you zoned out watching the stars glitter in the skies. Wondering how peaceful the star would be. Millions of miles away from you. You’d appreciate the little bit of freedom, even though you still had to wear a collar. But at least your wrists could get a break from those iron chains. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

The more you behave, the more Sam takes you out. Not in public places just yet. But it will come with time. Just stick it out and eventually you go to pubic places together and then you can plan your escape and get away from Sam once and for all. But keep in mind, if you fail and get caught, Sam will likely never take you out again. And if by some miracle he does, he will literally handcuff your hands together. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

If you piss him off enough he’ll slice your skin to ribbons and remind you what happens to bad girls. If you keep disobeying him he might just break a few of your bones. You can’t escape if both of your legs are broken, can you darling?  He’ll break your mind by either isolation or some sort of mind spell. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He damn near kisses the dirt you walk on. This man is devoted to you. He’ll bring you every star you desire, he will kill every monster, buy everything you can ever want, hug you for however long to make you happy and feel safe. Anything doll, name anything and he’ll do it. 

Except kill Dean. Nice try love.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Sam would spend no more than a few months to a year pining over you. Using his time wisely before he just couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Even still, he was as calculated as ever in kidnapping retrieving you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes. You’ll be broken beyond repair if you don’t get out.

-------------------

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed these headcanons! I'm back baby! Requests are open!

Spread Love,

-Marissa

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[fischlcatgirl]

ok so im thinking about. chiluc. i- chiluc shippers come in close. i love you come in close. we can all be honest with ourselves here. there will never be anything close to chiluc content ingame.

and so for many years i feel chiluc has been relegated to aus or established relationship nobody knows how they got together. where its like. childe is not part of the orginization that killed diluc's father. or maybe he was but it wasn't quite as bad. which dont get me wrong aus are great.

HOWEVER. i have been thinking. and here is how (currently) canon compliant chiluc can STILL WIN.

ok so we know that in canon mondstadt is like. equally as politically powerful as shneznaya is right. so it would probably benefit them if they had you know. good ties to each other. like linked powerhouses in both nations. so. kind of like an arranged marriage fic......

WAIT!! because I hear you you're saying like ohhh they would never agree to that listen to me. Childe would do anything for his tsaritsa for the good of shneznaya for the good of his family ok. he's the most disposible of the harbingers they might as well marry him off. and Diluc well. you see. at first he is DEFINITELY like no way in one million billon years go fuck yourselves. and then he actually meets childe and while hes like. repressing the urge to start strangling hes like wait. this guy is actually stupid.

diluc says. i may hate the knights but you know who i hate slightly more. the fatui. and i love mondstadt. surely the husband of this dumbass would be like. getting shneznayan state secrets revealed to him all the time. i could be a really good spy and i would know if the fatui are about to attack mondstadt.

and he agrees and hes like. so prepared to be absolutely miserable he's being sooo self-sacrifing right now. hes like jean do you see me being self-sacrificing. and jean says yeah for sure. whatever. thanks.

but then..... childe is like. he's doing that thing he does with the traveller where he's like "im doing so great!! i love that there's a darkness growing within me it's so cool and epic!!! anyway do you want to hear about how i don't think i have an identity for myself??"

diluc says. wait hold on a second. what the fuck. this guy is messed up. this is the part where if this was a modern au he would be like. go to therapy stop talking to me about it. but unfortunately i dont think therapy exists in the world of teyvat. otherwise why would everyone be Like That.

Anyway Diluc is realizing while pretending he's having a really nice time getting to know childe he's actually?? having a really nice time getting to know childe???? wtf?? even if the things he says ARE messed up sometimes its ok because childe also has that softness to him

on childe's side of the story everything is literally so great he doesn't know. hes like wow im so happy that i get to serve the tsaritsa and have a cool husband who will spar me and even sometimes almost win!! I'm so excited to introduce him to my family

chiluc family dinner. on childe's side its his whole family of like. eight other people. diluc invites nobody and when childe asks him about it diluc has a Moment of Weakness and he admits that he doesn't really talk to his family anymore and like. childe is like well thats ok. because youll be part of my family and they liked you a lot

varied chiluc introductory fluff... they're getting to know each other they're starting to have like. falling in love a little bit moments. childe trying to teach diluc how to use a bow and like standing behind him with his arms fiixng his arrow position or something like that. its cute. childe at this point is like. fully in love he can see their future together and everything.

BUT THEN!!! ok so diluc has been sending semiregular letters to mondstadt right. and childe's fellow harbingers are like. hey childe you're checking his mail right. and childe goes no thats private why would i do that. and childe isn't paranoid but he is. very very curious. he checks the mail.

and you know the knights and diluc worked out like. a secret code before he left for shneznaya. but childe can kind of tell something is up and he sends it to like. idk pulcinella or pantalone or someone and they're like oh yeah dude this is a secret message.

and childe confronts diluc about it he goes hey!!! WHAT THE FUCK!! and diluc breaks childe's heart because like. he's cornered and he's like yeah its all true and i. well. um. but like he can't bring himself to say that he's not sorry because he is. he's learned about how lonely childe actually is and they've been bonding over that. and he feels bad because he knows he was the only person childe like. trusted on a human level.

so he takes it all back and says he'll cut communications because at this point. hes seen that childe is an absolute killer and he's very frankly. a little bit scared for his life. and childe forgives him but he's on thin ice.

at this point. childe goes freak mode. because see after he was told that the letters were encoded, he told his fellow harbingers that he was going to. you know. kill diluc. so he goes all proper beauty and the beast you can't leave our house. and diluc thinks its because he's a control freak and not because he's trying to stop anyone from seeing diluc. childe is trying to keep up the illusion that diluc is dead.

and diluc says you cant keep me locked in here forever. childe says. sorry dude. but its clear that diluc is absolutely miserable and childe is actually. he really is sorry about it. and diluc can tell he's sorry and so he's picking up on that it maybe isnt entirely childe's fault that he's trapped here. so he's not mad but he's defintely miserable. they're miserable together.

but hey. guess what. diluc's messages have stopped coming to the knights. so jean says kaeya. you have to send a letter over asking when the actual wedding party is. and also asking if diluc is like. good. youre his brother it makes sense.

kaeya sends the letter. childe goes. oh um. shit. wait hey can we just get you back to mondstadt somehow?? and diluc says PLEASE. so they have to. sneak out of the country (difficult) (the wedding was public news so people keep asking about it) (pulcinella runs most of the trains so it's kind of hard to buy diluc a ticket without him knowing). and they end up basically having to escape on foot going from town to town out of shneznaya and. here i just kind of assume that shneznaya is directly north of mondstadt so down into mondstadt.

and this whole process does it for diluc. he's like man. youre risking it all. for me. and childe says yes that is what i do :). and they end up at the dawn winery just kind of. talking. and diluc realizes that he is in fact in love with childe. like he's been trying to avoid it but it's unavoidable now and he says hey childe. can we say that the letter thing was kind of a big misunderstanding. wouldn't it be best if idk.

we got married. you know for the good of our nations. and childe says YIPEE!! HOORAY!!! he's like yeah.... for the good of our nations for sure

chiluc wedding party. theyre sillies <3

and that is how a theoretically canon compliant chiluc could still win

[kaus-quietis]

Greetings, Anon! Thank you for your questions. I have to admit, even in the past, I refrained from posting reactions or speculations as BSD chapters release, but you already knew that, so I will indulge you. I'll answer each part of your ask. BSD ch113 thoughts below, manga spoilers ahead.

♠ "What was your raw reaction?" It was not a calm, quiet one, I can tell you that. No, in fact I screamed with excitement as if I was in a Roman amphitheatre and my favourite gladiator just got back up on his feet, out of sheer force of will, grinning and sweaty. My scream was the fastest way I could "verbalize" the fact that I was overjoyed to see him alive again, even if it's in the 15th century, and on top of that he seemed to be some kind of spy monk all chained up and having what seems to be a ridiculous amount of fun getting caught and discussing with Bram. This is all very in-character for him.

♠ "Was that something you expected?" Absolutely not. Yes, yes, I truly did not expect a jump back in time and this infobomb drop, despite the fact that we did get a few hints that Fedya seemed present at past events when all the other character really appeared younger than him (near the end of S4ep3, where on a rooftop Fedya says "It's not V, it's Five" and I am seriously like bruh I give up what I want to say is I need more data to work with, what am I supposed to do with this, rationally speaking?). However, we can't yet extract anything conclusive from this. Is he ageless? A time-traveler? Immortal? Does he revive? When was he born? Was he born at all or created differently somehow? Is he of BSD's world, or an external one (Beast liveaction finale anyone?)? Is this all within the Book and he's just… idk flipping the pages? Anything is possible and I refuse to spend a lot of time working with incomplete data. This is not very follower-friendly (as in, my blog is basically inactive in-between), I know and I apologize, but if after many chapters there will be something worthwile to add to my essay (with what Fukuchi said in ch113 I already have important stuff to add), under those circumstances I will consider writing an update. It's not yet time.

♠ "<Was that> something you felt different for the characterization we all made for Fyodor?" Hmm, I would hesitate to refer to a characterization "we all made" for him (I wish! T o T), because my analysis and blog are but a tiny tiny part of the fandom (I think…? I wonder about my Fedya essay's reach or influence sometimes). But let's say here we refer to one that comes close to what I tried to show in my essay. In that case, I would say that there is nothing to fear here in this chapter, but it's very understandable to have massive trust issues at this point. We went through a miserable, miserable time when the previous ones made the guy who visually memorized a full deck of used cards somehow not notice Chuuya wearing contacts and fake vampire teeth, despite knowing the vampire race since… well, the 15th century! I cannot even begin to describe what I felt reading ch111.5-112, I was beyond repulsed. Lovers of "villain" characters understand the following thing well: in most media, our fav has to lose, he has to die or disappear at some point, with rare exceptions. I, too, know this well, but that was no compelling way to solve BSD's villain threat. I still don't know how BSD will wash away that narrative stain, as I consider it, but then again one of the reasons we love this manga is that it keeps us on the edge of our seats and the most absurd yet fun turns can happen out of the blue. We can reasonably ask ourselves: ok, what is the purpose of showing Fedya's backstory now? If it's for build-up, we can already start grinning like Cheshire cats. What could possibly be next? I'm cautiously optimistic, things look in-character and good to me. Very good, in fact.

♠ "Or do you think it is later on going add some depth to his character?" Backstories are shown usually for a very clear purpose. We don't know the purpose yet, but if it's done well, then… then my whole essay could be at risk lmao (and I love this sensation). New info could add so much depth to his character, in fact, that his previously observed traits could gain new meanings, or even contradictory ones. Whichever it will be, I think it's pretty safe to bet on "his backstory will be very relevant".

♠ Bonus: even if I enjoy going "full analytical" and enter conference speech mode when asked, I am driven by strong emotions, by which I want to say – I am not immune to assassin/spy monk Fedya chained up like that and having the time of his life again. I missed seeing him entertained like that, and his current …………. visual representation in the.. uh. ..chapter, yeah, well, it's doing things to my Depeche Mode-worshipping heart.

Anyway, to conclude with some facts we know as of now:

a. Fedya and Bram are inside the Bran Castle, close to the Romanian city of Brașov, "deep in the Carpathians" although not built at high altitude itself. It's basically a fortress built between 1377-1388, with several later additions. The BSD representation of it is very accurate to how it looks today. It's near perfect, actually, I applaud.

b. Bram mentions King Matthias, and in this context that can only mean Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary for 1458-1490. The meeting between Fedya and Bram thus happens some year during his reign, when Transylvania was still part of the Kingdom of Hungary. What is still strange to me is that I can't pinpoint Bram's exact position, as in… were his people independent? Or avoided? I feel like I need to re-read past Bram-related chapters to think about this.

c. Nevermind Bram, the things that Fukuchi says, those are the real goldmine here, but the gold is still… encrypted? I mean: Fedya made the DoA plan (more than confirmed now), and because Fukuchi asked for the condition to keep casualties under 500, Fedya respected that and we got entertained for like half of the whole BSD manga: using coin bombs for terror, for economic/political destabilization, using the vampire infection to avoid further violence, these things. The more you think about it, the more insane it gets. Since Fedya agreed to this condition, it means causing (more) deaths and violence were expendable things to him. (But imagine this: Fukuchi said "I want max. 500 deaths" and Fedya said "Yeah I can do that", now if Fukuchi would've said "I want max. 2 deaths" I really believe Fedya would've still said "Yeah I can do that". What can't he do, especially since murder for murder's sake isn't his goal?). This is in perfect harmony with his "necessary deaths only" approach so far, and much much more. There are far more implications in what Fukuchi said, which I won't type out here now. Gotta keep them and build around them for a future analysis update.

This was a rather long read, but still, I hope this satisfies your curiosities, Anon. *bows dramatically & disappears in a borderline insufferable ENTP way*

[kirayaykimura]

The Art of Deception

The mission - which Shirayuki had chosen to accept after hardly any deliberation - was simple. Find the person attempting to sell a new poison that could kill in seconds, secure the poison and the seller, get the seller to explain how to make the poison, and figure out an antidote. She was currently on step one. 

This step would have been much easier if her informant hadn’t snuck out onto the balcony and then…off the balcony. 

“Well, that was selfish,” Obi said, peering over the ledge to see if the body of their best lead was possibly, in any way, able to get up and walk the forty story fall off. 

Obi was the actual spy on this mission. Shirayuki was decidedly not. She didn’t like it when other people lied to her and she was frankly terrible at lying to others. She was, however, an expert at plants and poisons, an area of expertise Obi did not possess. Thus, she was effectively a spy until she could shut herself away in a lab and get back to her normal life. 

“What should we do now?” Shirayuki asked. She peeked over the ledge as well and immediately regretted it. She’d seen a couple of cadavers in biology classes in college, but none had exploded in quite so gruesome a fashion as the one in front of her now. 

“We go back inside,” Obi said, ushering her away with a hand that never quite made contact with her back. “We move rooms. We let someone else call that in. And we go to the gallery opening tomorrow to start asking around.” 

–

Obi had sincerely meant the we part of that sentence. Almost immediately after entering the gallery a respectable forty-five minutes late-

“That’s not respectable,” Shirayuki said. They were already five minutes late and she was feeling anxious. 

“It absolutely is. You’re thinking of the word respectful, which it is not, but we’ll draw too much attention to ourselves if we’re the first ones there. People will talk if we camp out and watch the door.” 

-he abandoned her to chat up a woman who was slightly unsteady on her feet. Whether the wine in her hand or her heels were to blame was anybody’s guess, but Obi was ready to pounce on the possible opportunity of lowered inhibitions. He left Shirayuki with nothing but a wink and a mouthed, Talk to someone. 

She did. After a while. First, she had to get over the wrongness of striking up a conversation only for information. Then, it was hard to figure out how to steer the conversation away from the art in the gallery to anything useful. Are you trying to poison someone tonight? wasn’t exactly an icebreaker. 

Obi found her an untold amount of time later at a small cocktail table near the edge of the event, exhausted and rethinking her strategy. 

“Where have you been all night?” Obi asked, sidling up next to her from wherever he’d come from.

“Around,” she said after a pause. That felt like a safe answer. 

Ears are everywhere, Miss, Obi had warned her before they’d left their hotel room for the gallery earlier in the evening. His breath ghosted along the back of her neck, closer than necessary to clasp her necklace for her. He’d checked the room for bugs when they’d settled in, but couldn’t be too careful. All talk of the mission had been in hushed whispers and written on paper that Obi had immediately burned and flushed the ashes down the toilet. Be careful what you say out there.

“Around, hmm?” Obi asked. He leaned an elbow on the table, the backs of his fingers just barely brushing against her upper arm. “Meet anyone interesting while you were around?” 

“I did,” she said. “He used to run his own nursery, but he recently downsized to a personal garden after his grandson took over the business. He said he’d give me a cabbage if I stop by his farm sometime.” 

Obi slowly raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. 

“Oh, you meant-” Shirayuki started, then said, “No. No one interesting.” 

“You’ve only spoken to an old farmer and dull people.” 

“He wasn’t old. He had life experience.” 

“I’m starting to think I may have some competition. What will I do when you decide to run off with him and leave me here all alone.” 

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Good, because your boy is flush with cash. I bet your farmer can't provide for you like I can."

"What?"

"Someone mistook me for the valet and gave me five bucks." Obi took a five dollar bill out of his jacket pocket and waved it around like something to be proud of. "People just don’t carry cash like they used to, nor do they tip. Other than that, I’ve met no one nearly as interesting as you, either.” 

She was sure that wasn’t true. Everyone could be interesting if you dug a little. For the sake of playing along with wherever he was going with this conversation, she stayed silent. 

“I did, however, see a couple around the corner that I could use your help meeting. Word has it that they like chatting with younger couples.” 

Shirayuki stared blankly at him. 

“Here, you-” Obi looked down at her neck, then peered behind her. “Your necklace seems to be caught in your hair a little. Let me fix that for you.” 

She couldn’t feel anything caught, and her suspicions were proven to be accurate when Obi stepped behind her and immediately whispered, “Everyone here now thinks we’re engaged. It'll help move things along. Go with it?” 

“How did you manage to tell everyone so quickly?” was Shirayuki’s only question. 

“You’d be surprised how many people want to hear stories of young love.” 

A moment later, a ring was sliding on her finger under the table.

Breaking character for a short moment, she asked as quietly as possible, “Where did you get this?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi said. A gold band on his own finger caught the light as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek in his palm. He held her gaze for a long moment, then said, “I missed you.” 

Shirayuki knew what she would do. Botanist Shirayuki who saw the inside of a lab more than her own apartment would lean as far away as possible. She might even flee the event altogether. Undercover Shirayuki, engaged to a man she’d met two days ago and long enough ago that they were engaged by now, she decided, should do the opposite. She tilted her face into the inside of Obi’s wrist and leaned as if she wanted to settle in, to let him hold her up for the rest of the night just like this. In return, he swept his thumb across her cheekbone in soft half-circles. 

After a moment, Obi let his hand trace along the side of her neck and down her arm, twining their fingers together and leaving goosebumps along her skin his wake. 

“Come on,” he said with a gentle squeeze to her hand. “Let’s go talk to some people about some art.” 

[justiisms]

("I once saw something in a cartoon that I bet you could pull off, Master!") *shinigami is excitedly twirling around yuta before she floats into his closet, going through one of his jackets before peeking her head out of the top of it!*

("If you ever needed a disguise, all you would need to do is wear one of your uncle's coats while sitting on Twin Master's shoulders! With how teeny, tiny the two of you are, you would look like one average sized adult! Kyahaha~!!")

(Hmm? Like what? ...And why do I have a feeling it's going to be something ridiculous?") He asks, raising an eyebrow while crossing his arms. He knows that excited smile can sometimes mean she's about to do something sillay! Seeing her pop head head out of the top of his jacket like that, he was right!

(...Right on the money. Anyway! Sh-Shinigami!! Have you been watching too many TV shows again, th-that would obviously not work in real life! With how much we'd be wobbling, and how awkward we'd look wearing any of uncle's jackets, we'd be caught immediately! We'd look like the most weirdly built adult ever... plus, you know Yuma would not go along with something so ridiculous... Man, it'd be nice if we could just use Desuhiko's Forte anytime we want, instead. Oh well... if we'd ever need to disguise ourselves, we'll just ask the actual spy uncle we have, th-thank you...)

[itsvinzenzdarling]

Fine. He knew it was too good to be true. "Just so you know, Vinzenz, people do change. If that were not the case, my home would be destroyed just as much as yours was. Not all of us hunt your kind and you know damn well that is the case. But how can I believe an inkling of truth that comes from you if you do not listen to someone else's mind. I apologize for trying to be honest with you, or would you have rather me held my tongue around you, pretending like I do with every damn soul that graces my path. I am sorry fear is a natural response of the human mind, and I am sorry that such a thing is offensive to you. Maybe, if you were not ready to participate in a future where we do not normally kill each other, you should not have strung me along with such hopes and fallacies. I would have found out, whether by my own snooping or through word of mouth. That is why I asked if you were afraid of befriending the enemy spy. Sometimes, we do not have a choice. Yet you seem to act like I do." It was then that he just let his hurt show. He was so tired of hiding, of putting on this façade of being unaffected, of distancing his emotions so far from himself that they came back to eat him alive later. Laurent just cried, as much as it was humiliating to do, he was too tired to care right now. Taking the revolver from his holster, he popped out the magazine and tossed both separately into the dirt. "Are you done being afraid of me now?..."

How could none of that sound sincere? Everything he said blamed him for his flaws. He didn't feel better at all, he felt attacked. He didn't do any of this to hurt him, he had to treat everyone the same for his own protection! His teeth gnashed behind thin lips, his jaw muscles flexing and moving.

"You're not going to blame me for the faults of your kind," he seethed, feeling his fury grow with each accusation he deflected. "You're not going to blame me for protecting myself AND my family, you're not going to blame me for feeling violated, and you most CERTAINLY aren't going to blame me for feeling human emotions. You don't seem to understand that I wasn't hiding this to hurt you or anyone. Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do? Would you disclose it upon first meeting, shout it from the rooftops to perfect strangers, or wait until you knew someone well enough that you could trust them with such a delicate secret? Or would you not tell anyone at all? And how would you react if you were accused of using it against someone just to hurt them? You don't understand how long we've had to hide, so excuse me for being so abrasive and wary to share this about myself. It's not common for vampires to tell humans about ourselves, there's no guide on how to do it."

Without sharing too much of his past, he just needed enough to convey that this was life or death for him. He doesn't know if he'll wake up one day to a hunter at his door, or another mob to run him out of town.

But now he had done it. Le Blanc threw his gun down, and he could see the wet spots on his mask. He was crying. Did.....he make him cry? Did he really bother him that much? Reality punched him in the face and made him drop his anger, though he held onto what he could. His tone was less accusatory. "Look, just.....don't this against me. I didn't mean for it to come out this way. I would've told you myself when the time was right. Surely you understand that."

[x] @xceruleanrosesx

And there it was, the look he hated so much. Scornful, disgust, disdain, rejection, and hatred. He had seen this face before. A cruel night in Germany, lit by the anger of hundreds of torches, the night sky pierced with raised pitchforks and shovels. The accusations flew out of their mouths with such confidence and disapproval that his father was fighting back against the entire population of the townsfolk at their doorstep. No matter what he said, they wouldn't listen. And neither would Le Blanc.

Warring through his own emotions and struggling to pick which would be the most appropriate, the most prominent was hurt and sorrowful. He should've never come here. His parents warned him about working among humans, and the risk he took was well-known in his mind. And yet, he still took that leap of faith. For a while, it was fine. Nobody suspected anything. Every time someone asked about his ears or his teeth, he recommended the "surgeon" he went to. He blamed his strange clothes on his taste in vintage, but they were his from 100 years ago. Everything was genuine and real, including his sentiments. How could he get him to see that?

"Please," he attempted again, taking the tiniest step forward. "I-I know you're confused, and you have many questions, but I can answer them for you. You've got to trust me on this. I can't explain myself if you won't listen. So please, put the gun down."

Fighting back in the diplomatic sense might've been in the safest route but also the most difficult. Breaking through to a closed mind was nigh impossible. Le Blanc didn't seem like he was willing to hear him out, even if he poured every ounce of truth from his red-painted lips.

[ay4kshalatus]

a faithful encounter (genshin au [spy x family])

the story follows a spy who has to "build a family" to execute a mission, not realizing that the girl he adopts as his daughter is a telepath, and the woman he agrees to be in a marriage with is a skilled assassin.

note: the loid forger in this au will be aether, albedo and xiao! anya forger as klee, qiqi and paimon and yor forger is you!

the reader will be pronounced as she/her for the plot.

edited - important notice 📢

operation strix: “we all have a side of ourselves that we don’t show anyone. Whether it’s with friends, lovers, or even family, we hide our true feelings and true nature with fake smiles and deception. and that’s how the world maintains its temporary peace.”

aether [codename: viator]

• our aether here is undoubtfully very skilled!

• not just by camouflaging, he is talented with weaponry and physical combat.

• this man can be aloof as he wants but he’s goofy af.

• being a spy takes risky decisions. he doesn’t like playing with people’s heart just to get the information he needs but he’s a type of man to say “it is what it is.”

• finished with his other mission earlier, his superiors assigned him with another one. his next assignment is he have to get close with a member from a party and to look out for their ulterior motives.

• “to do this, you must first get married and have a child--”

• his inner dialogue of him reading the news paper cut off, spitting the coffee he drank on the paper in surprise.

• “excuse me-”

• before he could react further, he continue to read the news paper. he must enroll his child in his target’s school and infiltrate the social gatherings that they organize. he have a week to look for a wife and a child.

• “how to bore a child in seven days!??” idiot really mistook it.

• man have the crowds looking at him weirdly. his face went fuse.

• settling up for his mission, buying an ordinary house and looking for the candidates to act as his family.

• under his real name “aether” with occupation psychiatrist is his new identity.

• as he begin searching for a child, he choose paimon!

• to his surprise, paimon’s maturity surpasses her age.

• ‘child-bearing mission complete. should i look for a mother? having a family is the last thing a spy wanted..’

• AND yes how could we forget? paimon can read minds.

• ‘he’s a spy?! well.. this is concerning..’

• and yes. paimon is already aware from the start that she’s just using her for his mission to her dismay. she wanted to get out from here. but for now, she have to take her time slowly convincing aether to not send her off again.

• when aether was about to get some essentials, paimon dashed to him and clings on his leg.

• “oh! oh! adventure! can paimon go with you??”, “no paimon! it’s not an adventure! i’m going shopping.”

• ended up tagging her along anyway. their relationship really improved in small amount of time. they sometimes bicker.

• aether have to buy some manuals for parenting. they acted much like siblings than father and daughter..

• and just like anya, paimon doesn’t like studying.

• “paimon hates studying! why do I have to study??”

• “paimon. i need to know your academic abilities for the exam! you need to go to school.”

• “what?? you taking paimon to school? why do paimon need that!?”

• “because children like you need to go to school so that you can assist us once we’re old.”

• “but-..”

• “no but’s!” aether being a strict parent, paimon finally studied.

• but she’s not that smart as he thinks. luckily, aether help her with it and manage to nail the exam!!

• as the eden college required both parents to be present at the interview, he began to look for a wife!

• and that’s you! you’re fit for his requirement!

• he met you just like loid met yor ofc at boutique. he got startled at your sudden appearance.

• “um… mister. you’ve been staring at me. did you need something?” manz gone red and apologizing you non-stop. he can imagine his sister teasing him.

• both of you are about to ask about partner issues but once paimon showed up, she immediately understand the situation.

• “father.. are you going to ask her out?”, “paimon! why so blunt??”, “come on this is your chance! you wont die single anymore!”

• thanks to paimon, you both become a couple! in disguise of course.. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

• alas, there���s another mission he have to take. stopping a group of smugglers on saturday, the same day of your friend's party that both of you need to attend.

• on that very day, aether is busy for his mission and trying to finish them quickly so that he can make it to the party. you on the other hand, dead ass waiting for almost 1 hour. the streets are cold also so you have to go inside first before you catch cold.

• while at the party, your friends are talking to your back that you might lying about you having a boyfriend. trying your utmost best to calm dawn from thinking of murdering all of people here, aether finally showed up with his bleeding forehead.

• “i’m sorry that i’m late for the party! i’m aether, y/n’s husband.”

• then he later realized his mistake. his cheeks went red in embarrassment. damn aether, you have a lot to learn.

• as he takes you home to avoid any drama and questions, the smugglers tracked him down.

• being an idiot he is, he told you that kicking his patients (which is the smugglers) is a new medical treatment. yes, you believe him ofc. you don’t know much about doctor stuffs so you just shrug it off.

• “i’m sorry! i’m an amateur, yet i just treated a patient!”

• yep. you both equally dumb to each other.

• and aether is in awe. aether stans for woman and respectable af. everything you do makes him kneel before you. “that’s amazing! you sent him flying!”

• then when you requested to make their marriage as official, he uses a grenade pin as a wedding ring while the smugglers behind the generator they’re hiding blown up.

• the only thing you could thought is ‘damn, we look so cool.’

albedo kreideprinz [codename: calx]

• our mysterious boy albedo is a variant of loid forger!

• but the difference is he’s a prodigy and not really expressive.

• so when he was assigned to have a family, he just continue on reading like nothing happened.

• he use his real name with occupation: doctor.

• finding a kid who can write and read is the real issue for albedo. the orphanage he went is full of uneducated children. well aside for that certain kid named klee.

• klee acts like her age. she have the standards that albedo needs but her character is too bright for his introverted self. and clearly she needs a lot to learn.

•he needs someone who's tolerable too, but as if he have a choice anyway. he adopts klee.

• klee sometimes call albedo “big brother” or “mister albedo” in accident. looks like he needs to work with his father figure.

• but she manage to call him father at the end after the incident where she was hold as a hostage.

• oh! and their relationship getting along so well!

• albedo have soft spots for children! a husband material fr.

• luckily for albedo, klee doesn’t mind studying for her entrance exam. the downside is the entrance exam is coming near and klee doesn’t have enough time to familiarize what she studied. he have to get a copy of the questionnaire with the help of his informant, timaeus.

• klee nail the exam too! albedo grown tired from teaching klee but it was all worth it (big thanks to her telepathic abilities).

• now time to look for a wife.

• when he’s on the boutique with klee, he found a decent woman with in his age. he thought that she would be the one to become his wife but then when you walk in, his eyes fall on to your figure.

• albedo is a man interested with the unusual so when he looks at you, he finds you captivating and intriguing. the way he failed to sense your presence when you entered the shop and the way you behave. and your appearance too!

• albedo doesn’t really care about people’s appearance but yours contain a lot of possibilities. you’re quite built in his opinion.

• “uhh.. sir? do you need something?”

• “pardon me but what i’m looking for is found.”

• and just like that, he excused himself from the woman he talked earlier and made it to your side.. so as klee.

• “father! klee is done measuring with her uniform!”

• your attention finally lay on the lovely father and daughter.. and damn you never seen someone so handsome before.

• ‘he’s illegally handsome… sad to say that he have a spouse. i was about to ask him if he could pretend as my boyfriend for the party..’

• and klee easily reads the situation.

• “oh! does father looking for a mother for klee? klee was so sad about it! klee misses the presence of a mother..”

• albedo was caught off guard that klee understood the circumstance. he seem not flustered about it but a shade of pink is present on his ears.

• “klee…”, “huh? you’re looking for a wife?”, “oh- uhm.. yes.”

• mission success!! albedo have a wife for his mission! give a thanks to our matchmaker klee!

• both of you made a proposal first, attending on the party that you’re in him as your boyfriend and later you’ll be the wife.

• the party will start at saturday night but so as his incoming mission.

• he’s trying to finish it early so he can make it to the party with timaeus' assistance.

• “i apologize for being so late! i’m albedo kreideprinz, y/n’s fiancé.”

• geez… he almost mistook you as his wife. fiancé is much convincing.

• when your friend tried to embarrass you in front of the guests especially to your fiancé, albedo is pissed of their behavior towards you. are they really your friend?

•and the way you catch the tray make him speechless. he’s right about his observations about you being different.

• as he takes you home, the smugglers followed both of your tracks. they try to trip albedo’s car.

• and you who almost got off from your seat. “wtf- who are they?”, “probably one of my patients who wants a piece of me.”

• you’re confused af. what did he do that turned his patients to this?

• idk if he did that purposely...

• mischievous af. (favorite word for today: af)

• then gurl when you show some moves, he’s much convinced that you’re no ordinary. he’s very interested with you now!

• oh! when you requested to make their marriage official, your reasoning is valid and he doesn't mind so he take it. plus it makes it easier for his mission.

• as albedo want to admit, he look forward to get to know you.

alatus [codename: xiao]

• very aloof. he’s fit for the role as a spy. you can say that he’s another variant of loid.

• plus he’s very skilled with combat and flexible as a cat. you can find him jumping on walls or jumping on the air.

• is also known with his vigilance. his superiors rely on his ungodly abilities.

• despite having a cold exterior, he’s easy to fluster.

• just like when he was tasked to have a family. his face is redder as a tomato.

• “you must first get married and have a child--”

• he chokes on his coffee. “i’m sorry?—“

• “since the deadline for enrollment is approaching, you’ll be given one week.”

• manz so red maybe in both anger and embarrassment and rip off his newspaper. “he wants me to have a child within this week??”

• the passengers look at him, concerned. xiao really questioning his life decisions and wanted to bury himself.

• he use his real name with occupation: physical therapist as his identity!

• he also have problems with finding a kid for his mission. luckily that he found qiqi.

• like paimon, qiqi is aware that he’s using her for his mission. she'll do her best too to change xiao’s mind.

• qiqi is so well behaved. too behaved and reserved. xiao finds it concerning the more he observe her.

• he doesn’t have any problems with her too. she obeyed him.

• still, he have to work with her memorization. she have a bad memory.

• but with her telepathy powers, she passed the entrance exam.

• ahh the moment we’re waiting for. searching for a wife time!

• xiao also doesn’t like the idea of entering someone’s life just to get an information or two.

• but for the sake of peace and unity between countries, he have to do it.

• he got startled with your sudden appearance and blushed. aiyaya, he never seen someone catches his attention. he’s seriously observing you from head to toe, checking if there’s any red flags but nothing. still, there’s something about you that he can’t fully decipher.

• then xiao’s eyes landed on yours. he looks fascinated by it and the way it shines. man.. he didn’t realized that he fell for you at first sight.

• and your reaction mirrored his. you have a fine man staring at you!

• you’re even scared to say anything. his beauty and being under to his cat-like gaze makes you feel shy. “sir… do you need something?”

• xiao realized his position he’s in. his cheeks went red again and trying to mutter up some words.

• “i-..uhh .. just..”, ‘thinking if I could make you my wife…’, “i apologize for my behavior..”

• qiqi who is finished with measuring for her uniform, just watch how their interaction goes. later, she approach xiao and straightly asked him to ask you as his wife.

• “qiqi want’s this mother… qiqi wants father xiao ask her to be qiqi’s mother.”

• damn help this poor man. he’s malfunctioned.

• you’re flustered to have someone wants you to be their mother.. to be THIS handsome man's wife.

• feeling like eternity, you finally spoked. “you,, don’t have a wife..?”

• “uh.. no. my wife died years ago,,”

• and then there we go! both of you become a couple in disguise! little did you know that part of him wants to make it official. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

• you keep it on mind to give some treats for qiqi later as a thank you for being their little matchmaker.

• and! he have a mission on the same day and time of your friend’s party. you really need to have xiao to pretend as your boyfriend on the party to keep an image but he seems pretty late. you go inside first before you get a fever from waiting.

• minutes later, xiao made it to the party at last!

• like aether, he introduced you to the guests as his wife.

• both of you became red but mostly xiao, from telling the different information.

• our boy xiao is also pissed when your friend is trying to embarrass you! he was about to defend you but you girlboss it, catching the tray with your foot.

• is very impressed. can tell that you’re not trained with defense. but convinced himself anyway that you trained defense.

• he takes you home before your friends bad mouthing you in front of him. he really can't stand them.

• while sending you home, there's a car following you guys and it turns out that it was the smugglers who he took care off during his mission.

•he just told you that he doesn't know who they are when you asked.

•realizing that there's no use to get out from this predicament, both of you got out of the car to lure them in the alleyway.

•damn you're simping when he show some move.

•"that was hot.", "huh-"

•let's just say that he did the same when you saved him from the ambush.

•staring at you for a while and drags you again out from the smugglers sight.

•when you requested him to make their marriage as official for mutual benefits, he didn't hesitate to accept it.

•grabbing a grenade and using the pin as the ring (because the ring he got fall off from his pocket-) while the smugglers got blown up behind you both.

•very iconic af.

•and you're so inlove.

•for xiao, he needs time to understand his feelings.

yikes. didn't know that i make it this far. but hey! i got some quite of content! the spy x family got me thinking about genshin boys and us doing mr. and mrs. smith vibes. yes i have fun writing aether's partkdksisksizk

as usual, don't be afraid pointing out my mistakes so that i can fix it!

[segredosjogados]

After midnight

[i don't know how i fell on this urban wyatt trope but here we are] 

This story is based on this Brazilian song

Story: Urban and you got stoned and held some talk on the sidewalk. You two actually don't know if you're living this for real or it's just being way too high. 

It's written in reader's POV. 

Unedited. 

-----

Days of summer, nights of winter

The city sometimes is a hell

So I created a universe where everything was perfect

And made for us

It was past midnight, the cold breeze from the upcoming spring was hitting my face and making my body have goosebumps. 

Urban and I were hitting some blunt sitting down on the sidewalk. His eyes were red like tomatoes and mine were closing by themselves. They were already super small but when I hit some pot it gets way smaller. We were laughing about anything and everything. 

"What if there's other universes? Like we're not alone at all" I started, passing the joint to him. 

"Like a parallel universe and shit?" he asked, dragging the smoke to his throat and letting it go in one run through his nose. 

"Like, there are many universes and we are all there in these universes. Like, for another universe, we're aliens, shit like that." I stated, looking at him, trying to see his eyes through the smoke. He only nodded. 

I laughed with my own words and how his head nodded super sweetly. Like a planet orbiting but just going up and down like a ball bouncing. Urban started laughing with me too. I couldn't help myself and keep laughing, now his eyes were too blue inside a red ocean. His hair was all messy under his bucket hat. 

"What're you laughing at?" he asked, not very much amused with my uncontrollable laughing. 

"How long just the two of us?" I asked, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to me. He didn't hesitate to make the space between us close and our bodies fell in one embrace. The air was dense and the street lights were still on. 

"What if we're actually these lights on a parallel world and we are observing ourselves from this other planet?" I initiated another question. Urban laughed, his breath too close to my neck. 

"We're spying ourselves to see what we're capable of doing" he said, now looking at me dead in the eyes. Even though I felt my eyes smaller, I could see only him perfectly. Everything else was a blur. 

We took some long minutes looking at each other's eyes. I don't know how much time to be precise. He came for an embrace and I let my body feel soft into his arms. We stayed there for a good while. 

The exchange of words is something that I don't remember much now. All I know is that we spent an eternity because when we realized it, the sun was already coming up in the sky. 

"How long just the two of us?" this time, he asked me the question. I looked up at him and we shared a magical kiss in every universe we lived. The sun kissed the sky, the light poles turned off their lights, wind kissed the trees and somewhere our creatures shared love the way they do on their universe. 

In your eyes, I see the truth

Do what you will, say what you will 

After midnight we turn on the city lights

We hug and stay together until the sunrise.

[weliveinhell]

Whenever Martin needed protection, he could tell he was guarded by whomever had displeased The Lord of Iron enough to not be executed. He couldn't help himself sometimes with his ridiculous requests, “For the Art!” he would always claim. Though watching a krak grenade obliterate a dead tree had actually been very informative, especially on shrapnel ranged and how much the Astartes' power armor kept them safe from it.

He thought about that incident one night as he was finishing up with his private work, halfway through the long crawl through the ductwork towards his awaiting bed. A light smile graced his lips despite himself while he pondered the memory.

Then, an armored hand shot out from the darkness and gripped the artist's robes. Martin had only a moment of bug-eyed shock before he was ripped out of the wall, punching through foil and pulling out wires with his body as an impossible strength hauled him clear of the crawlspace.

The light of his room stung his eyes as that grip tightened around his robes, it took a second before the features of his Patron and Lord came into focus. Perturabo’s eyes were dangerous: both balefully furious and anticipatory.

“Well well well, the little mole crawls out of his hole.”

He hoisted the shivering mortal up to the ceiling, holding Martin above him, “Now what were you doing in there?”

The man's legs shook with terror, his own hands gripping around the Primarch’s fist. He had no hope of escape he only wanted to keep himself from being strangled by his own robe.

“Don’t answer that, spy, we’ll find out ourselves.”

Martin’s head swilved and for the first time noticed Perturabo was flanked by two space Marines. The newly promoted Captain Barabas Dantioch

He was unhelmed and looked both grim and a little sad.

On the other side, was a helmed Terminator, equipped with lightning claws that arced between each other and an anticipatory gait to the Astartes' posture.

“Forrix, tear open this wall. I want to see it for myself.”

“My Lord,” the Terminator said, all too eager to lift his power claws and begin slashing his way towards the secluded room.

“You know Martin,” Perturabo said, turning his body towards the crackling, sparking form of Phorix; the wall before him crumpling down to glowing orange scrap and slag, “I am disappointed in you.”

He dropped his arm, still gripping the man’s robe in a bunch, but his height making it so the terrified mortal’s legs barely lifted off the floor, “We monitored you, made sure you weren't passing information onto someone. Spies are clever, but we didn't want to kill our only painter.”

A particularly vicious spark sounded through the air and Martin winced in the grip of The Emperor's Son.

“You return to the bait night after night, yet we detect no signal. You ask for favors, yet to repair minor equipment I wouldn't have noticed if it was logged normally. You hide trash in your sleeves and talk to your prescribed friends about the normal level of rumors. Just what kind of network are you trying to build?”

More sparks sounded off and Martin looked over to Barabas, who met his pleading look only with a hard stare.

“No matter, we will see soon enough.” Perturabo said, his bald brow furrowing in anticipation.

That brought Martin back to his senses, “Wait! No please! Don't!”

“Too late mortal, you've damned yourself. All that awaits you now is judgment on how damning it all is.”

“No! Please! Call Forrix off! It isn't what you-”

The sound of shrieking metal filled the air and the Space Marine pulled open the bulkhead on the other side, ripping a huge hole in the pathway of destruction he had caused. Martin braced himself for the reactions of the three superhumans in the room with him. Forrix, of course, saw them first, pausing in his expansion of the tunnel before he pushed the wall apart to make an entrance big enough for his Primarch to come through.

The Terminator then turned and walked into Martin’s room and took his place beside Perturabo once more. All three stared at what awaited them on the other end.

Stacked on the walls were various unfinished works, but two paintings were both completed and on full display.

The first was an unsanctioned portrait of The Lord of Iron himself. His features exactly as they were in reality, capturing a harsh handsomeness that Martin always felt had been absent in every pic-grab of the Primarch he had ever seen.

Instead of a grim frown and furious eyes, a calm neutral expression and calculating wise eyes instead adorned Perturabo.

But it was Martin’s other painting that everyone’s attention was locked onto. Including Martin’s, even when Perturabo loosened his grip and the mortal fell to the ground.

A steamy scene emerged from the plastic smoke and sparking wires of Forrix’s brute force. Unclad Astarties, completely nude adorned the scene, a dozen of them. Each one an unhelmed Astarties Martin had spoken to on the ship. They were partly covered with steam, standing on the same onyx & marble tiling Martin had seen on the shuttle that brought him aboard.

The steam hid nothing, instead, water cascaded over the bodies of each Iron Warrior. Blood, mud, grit, and soot flowed off each Astarties body washed away into a drain on the floor. Martin had to take some liberties with the portrayal, but each muscle had clearly been meticulously crafted. From the pecs to the very generous glutes that each Marine sported it was clear Martin had put in an exceptional amount of care into the details. And soapy, sudsy water graced the bodies of each one; for one pair in particular the lathering had been mutually applied, no matter what needed washed.

Dantioch’s face was clearly readable, surprise and disbelief was plain to see across his features as he studied his own figure in the painting. His painted body halfway turned towards the viewer and arms above his head, seemingly to wash the expertly realized hair.

The two Iron Warriors and their genefather stood there for several moments. Not saying a word.

“Martin,” Perturabo said, his voice grave and flat, “This is…unacceptable.”

“This isnt-” Martin tried and a short stomp from the Primarch's war suit silenced him, “What? This isn't what it looks like? I suppose that's why Captain Barabas here is so well endowed! It’s a sign of respect! It’s why each warrior here has very shapely hips. It's deviancy, Martin, it’s deviancy that degrades my own warriors! And it’s unacceptable!”

The Lord of Iron was shouting at this point, the mortal was crumpled on the floor from the Primarch words, rubbing his forehead on the cold metal floor as he shook his head. Miserable denials and tears flooded out of his hood.

A furious frown overtook Perturabo’s face and lashed out with his warsuit’s foot. The ceramite punted Martin into the wall on the other side of the room. Only Perturabo's careful application of force preventing one broken rib from becoming a shattered spine. He stomped over to the artist and grabbed him by the man’s long blond hair.

“Alright Artist,” Perturabo said, lifting him up and yanking back his head so he could look the mortal directly in the eyes, “What is it? If not what it appears to be?”

The Primarch's eyes narrowed and Martin felt the fear of death welling up from deep within him, and he knew that only the truth would save him.

“It's….it's when they’re human!” He managed to get out, wincing as Perturabo gripped his hair tighter, he felt individual strands popping off his skull.

“My warriors are always human,” Perturabo replied, danger in his voice and eyes.

“When they’re MOST human!” Martin explained, tears streaming down his face, “Emotionally!”

Through the Primarch’s grip he felt Perturabo shake with rage, before that impossible grip released and Martin once more hit the floor. This time, he stood. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that both Space Marines were still studying the private paintings.

Perturabo only watched him, crossing his armored arms in mock patience.

“I…I wanted to make a scene where I thought the Iron Warriors would be at their most…well like I said, human.” Martine said, eyes down cast, “I thought about these incredible humans, super-humans, really. How could they relate to us, to mere mortals in comparison. When could they feel…like how they used to?”

He looked over to the painting, blushing, but without shame, “I figured…after a battle. After the armor comes off and the person underneath begins to clean…everything that clung to him would wash away. That in such a moment, laid bare, that's when an Adeptus Astartes has a respite from being Humanity’s sword and is…”

“Human,” Barabas Dantioch said, nodding at the piece.

Perturabo looked over his shoulder to his newest Captain with a frown, then back at the painting. Martin had never thought he'd life to see the day, but he saw Perturabo soften then and saw his body shift ever so slightly.

“And the portrait he did of you, if I might say my Lord, is…accurate.” The helmed Terminator said.

“How do you mean, Forrix?” Perturabo replied, harshly.

“Simple really, Martin here captured something in your portrait that every Iron Warrior feels, but no one outside of it would understand.” The Terminator’s pauldron’s lifted in a shrug, “I would explain but, I can't, I'm no artist.”

Perturabo frowned and looked back at the mortal his rage cooled and frosty, “No more of this. Your suspicious activities are over and if you want to make something for yourself, it will be in your workshop. Understand?”

Martin nodded, “T-thank you my Lord.”

“You’re welcome” Perturabo said and raised one of his wrists. A bright red heated las-cannon blast shot through the tunnel, obliterating the lewd showering scene. Martin let out a singular cry, before the smoke was whisked away by the ventilation system and a glowing orange melted junction wall was all that remained of literal years of work.

“Bring the portrait to me, Forrix, and get some Tech-priests to begin repairs on this section. Barabas, I do not want the Arch-Magos bothering me about this.”

Both Iron Warriors put a fist to his chest and bowed to his Primarch.

“You may take the day off tomorrow Martin, think about your future in this Legion.” Perturabo said and left the room, heavy armored footsteps echoing down the hallway. The two Space Marines looked at each other and Forrix stepped through the wreckage of the wall to retrieve Perturabo's portrait.

Martin sat on his bed, wincing at the pain of his cracked rib. Dantioch noticed, and knelt down beside the mortal. Behind him, Forrix left the room, canvas carefully in his hands.

“Martin,” he said, gently, touching the bruised area with one gauntleted hand, “We should bring you to a Medicae, one of the trooper ones. I'm afraid my apothecary only sees Space Marines.

The artist only nodded, his tight lips trying to contain the emotions threatening to spill out over himself. Dantioch gave the mortal a pitying look and then put his hand across the back of the man's head. The Space Marine gently brought the man’s forehead to his face and kissed his forehead, just for a moment, in an Olympian gesture of respect.

The artist looked up in shock at the Iron Warrior’s battle hardened eyes and found only understanding. A comforting grip on his shoulder squeezed and a smile played across Barabas’ face, “Be strong. This is not the worst outcome of today. And there may come a time where your leash is a little longer. Ok?”

Martin nodded, a little in shock from everything.

“Good,” the Space Marine stood up and replaced his helmet, “I must go…but I will be on this ship for awhile longer. Perhaps we will see each other soon, Martin.”

“I hope so,” Martin said sadly, swallowing and looking once more at his destroyed hiding place, “I hope so soon.”

Dantioch nodded, then turned and headed out the door.

So, I posted awhile ago about wanting to do a silly scene of an Artist getting into Trouble with Perturabo. And given the kind of person that I am it turned into a whole thing that I'm just now getting around to posting.

This is my first real fanfiction posting to this site so: uuh

So! The juicy bit is in the reblog. I'm gonna be posting the start of the story for those who wanna read the full thing:

---------------------------------------------------------

Martin stumbled through the blackened and twisted battlefield. The smokey, hazy landscape stretched out before him, a trail of destruction laid to waste in the name of The Emperor.

Lifting a miniature censure to his face and inhaling deeply, the spices and fragrances within chased away the lingering smell of high grade cordite and rotting enemy corpses.

The thin pale young man pinned the ball to his shoulder and made his way towards a war camp only a kilometer away now. A chirping alarm startled him, causing him to trip and rip his dirtied white robes on a patch of half buried razor wire.

A Servo-skull hovered next to him; Auspex scanning for additional buried mines and other dangers to its frail master.

While halfway between climbing out over a trench littered with the exploded corpses of Humanity's enemies, a distant roar began to sound in the air and Martin’s heart lept with fear.

He kicked frantically, desperate to get over the gap. After a moment of struggle, he lashed out with a clawed hand and pulled on the bandolier straps of a nearby corpse missing its head. He pulled himself up and over while further staining his once pristine robe.

The young man crested a hill, below him was the war camp. He so close he could see individual soldiers walking about. The Imperium Aquila fluttered with the smoke-filled wind carrying the sound of the distant roar which became louder and louder.

The dirty robed man took another long suck from his bulb and raced down the hill, Servo-Skull following closely behind.

Around the camp the wounded, the tired, and the on guard alike watched him approach. But none paid him any mind, his attire gave the Artist away as one of the Emperor’s propagandists, here to capture the triumphs of victory.

Though, as the dirty figure desperately raced passed them, those who noticed him wondered what one would be doing here. The scene behind them was a bloody massacre, nothing but 3 months of hard attritional fighting to finally seize control of a moon in a system long ago deemed “mostly secured” by the Great Crusade.

The only things that kept it from being a years long meatgrinding hell were about to climb aboard the incoming Thunderhawk Gunship, plummeting through the air towards the far end of camp where the last squad of 5 Iron Warriors were awaiting extraction.

Martin gasped and wheezed as he pushed his body to the limit running towards the landing zone, heart plummeting towards his stomach as he saw the mighty war machine of the Imperium had already touched down and its ramp was descending.

As soon as it hit the ground, all five Space Marines began walking towards the craft.

“WAIT!!” Martin screamed, nearly thirty meters away.

If the Astarties could hear him, they made no sign of it, the lead Marine stepping aboard the shuttle.

“IRON WARRIORS WWAAIITT!!” Martin hollard. Stumbling and coughing, but his feet guiding him true beneath him. The fiery roar of the engines filled his ears as he grew closer and closer and as he wiped away the tears forming around his eyes, he found himself staring up at the five gray armored warriors. He collapsed to his hands and knees, panting and wheezing before the Space Marines. Long blond hair spilled out of his robe and obscured his face for a moment.

The Marines looked at one another, seemingly confused as the Servo-Skull came to hover next to Martin’s shoulder once more and the young man painstakingly came to his shaky feet.

“M-my lords, please forgive me….my name…is Martin” He tried to recover his breath, pausing for a moment before continuing, “I am one of The Emperor’s trained artists, Liegio Artisia. I was given liberty to go where I wish and…and I wish to follow your wars, paint your battles, if you would have me aboard. Please, my Lords, let me come with you.”

Once more, the Space Marines looked at each other in seeming confusion. There was a long silence as the five seemed to stand still for several drawn out seconds before the squad leader made his way around his subordinates and addressed the artist directly, “Artist Martin, you will not come with us.”

Rage and shock filled the young man’s eyes, he couldn’t help himself. No legion would turn down the glory of one of the Leigio Artisia! Even the ever reclusive Dark Angels fought and competed for portraits and honors of their most famous battles and champions. An indignant sputter arouse from Martin’s lips before he could stop himself.

“You would die if you came aboard this ship.” The Iron Warrior continued, voice was flat but not harsh, “if you wish to join us, then you must wait for a non-Astaires grade shuttle to arrive. I will wait with you.”

The artist suddenly felt abashed as the Space Marine’s words washed over him. A memory of his first trip to the Principal Secudius’ office flashed in his mind.

“Oh, of course…”

“Brothers,” the Iron Warrior said, turning his helmet to the four waiting Astarties and nodding. The four wordlessly nodded back and resumed their journey back up the ramp and away from the planet.

“Follow me, Artist.” the grey armored giant made their way towards one of the outer tents. Martin took a calming breath and did as he was told. Inside the tent he found Astarties sized furniture and a stool of human proportions waiting for him.

“Sit,” the Iron Warrior directed, taking a seat of himself and gesturing to the much smaller seat on the other end of the table.

The plain grey metal table almost came up to Martin’s chin as he took the offered stool. He had no idea how someone shorter of stature was supposed to sit in this arrangement comfortably.

“Thank you, Martin,” The Iron Warrior said and removed his helmet. Underneath, a man with short cropped air and a hard, stern, yet kind face emerged, “My name is Barabas Dantioch and you’ll pardon me for asking but, why do you want to paint for the Iron Warriors?”

Martin blinked eyebrows raised in surprise, “Well, uhm….I didn't know I needed one.”

Dantioch’s brow furrowed, “It just seems highly unusual, no artist thus far in the Great Crusade has shown an interest in our legion. Even for a single portrait. Why not capture the…glories of the White Scars, or the Ultramarines? Or from what I understand, Sanguineous and his Blood Angels patronize quite well.”

Martin’s lip curled involuntarily for a moment, “I seek neither glory nor patronage, I was recognized for my talents, had them teased out of me by the best teachers in the galaxy, and set loose on the galaxy to capture the spirit of a war damn it! A Crusade no less! I refuse to make easily digested fluff pieces for the most already beloved heroes of the Imperium. Each of the Legion's you listed have hordes of propagandists playing pacified pet painter to Astarties.”

An urge to slam his fist on the table surged through him, but with a Superhuman Solider of the Imperium staring directly at him, it withered and died under the giant’s careful glare. He continued speaking however turning his fist into an upraised finger; unable to help himself.

“I will be different, damn everyone else! So many pretenders posing as artists care about two things: their ego or their legacy and believe that riding on the coattails of their betters can enlarge both. I don't! I care about the Art, about what gets put onto the wall at the end of everything. I want my legacy to last as long as the Imperium’s. Not crowded out by a thousand different people doing basically the same thing.”

The Iron Warrior only nodded, letting the young man ramble.

“I was the top of my class you know! Better than all those kiss-asses, they’ve got the steady cushy jobs on the recruiting words doing easy portraits or overdone standard bearers. Or worse family portraits of noble families. Not me! I’ve craved the true battlefields! The art of war, the trenches and barbed wire blown apart by ordinance. How the very landscape is torn asunder by the metel of humanity. I once walked your battlefields without knowing it, marveling at the sheer genius written into the destruction. Once I saw how war followed in your wake; the crumbled fortifications, the corpses of Xenos or non-complients, I didn't even know rock-crete could be melted before I became infatuated. By then I had to know your Legion’s name. I needed to know know what architects of battle-”

A strange smile overcame Barabas Dantioch’s grim face and Martin stopped his ramble partway through, “My….Lord?”

“Martin, I think you will fit in well with the Iron Warriors. So much so that you are either a very good liar or you are about to have every inspiration you could possibly want.”

Once more, Martin could only blink at Barabas’ words, but a shrill whine pierced through the air by the time the young man recovered himself.

“Come, that is our shuttle,” the sergeant put his helmet back on.

Shortly after, Martin found himself stepping off of the shuttle and onto a busy hanger bay. Mechanicum engineers rushing to perform sacred maintenance on the machines they came in.

Aboard were even more Iron Warriors, their grated face plates turned towards the pair, before they turned away.

“Let me show you to your quarters.”

Deep inside the ship, a rather spacious room for a vessel of this size had cleared of everything except for a bed, a desk with all his supplies already neatly arranged, and a simple footlocker. Martin was surprised to see his brushes awaiting him, the engravings confirming their ownership.

“We took the liberty of contacting The Onerous Spirit once your desires were made clear. It took a pic-recording to convince the shipmaster that you truly intended to come with us and weren't a victim of kidnapping.”

Martin let out a dry sigh and stepped inside his new room, “Thank you, Lord Dantioch.”

“You are welcome,” The Iron Warrior gestured towards the desk, “Now, you better get started.”

“On?” Martin replied.

“Whatever you wish to present to show your…artistic intent. We are rendezvousing with a larger Iron Warrior contingent and we expect to be there in 15 days. By then you will need to prove yourself if you wish to continue to join us on our campaigns.”

A burst of outrage and indignation passed through Martin, but he swallowed hard and nodded, “I will get started immediately then.”

“I'm glad you…understand your position, Martin. I would recommend you do not deliver anything less than your best.”

With that, the Space Marines stepped out of the room, and the human collapsed into his bed.

Fourteen feverish days later, Martin felt the uneasy, bone-wrenching sensation of translation pass through him and knew they had arrived at their destination.

During his time aboard the ship, he had traded out his mud-caked robes for freshly cleaned then painted-stained ones. His Sevro-Skull had gotten back into the routine of tool holding and message carrying while Martin ventured out for little besides food, lavatories, and a total of four showers.

The canvas he had slaved away at for the last fortnight barely fit through the door and stretched nearly from one end of the room to the other. He hadn’t the time to fill every detail, but even with the short time of seeing the Iron Warrior's work freshly smoldering, it was enough.

More than enough, it was done, he only hoped whomever was to receive it would be as happy with it as he was at this moment. A chirp came from the wall console and red lumens embedded in the console’s skull began flashing. Martin’s eyebrows furrowed; he went over and pressed the “receive” button.

“Yes?” Hi? Hello?”

“Martin, this is Sergeant Barabas Dantioch. Have you completed your work?”

The lanky artist looked behind him, at what he could only think of as his “audition”.

“Yes, it's ready.”

“Good, I will send down a pair of servitors to lift it to the shuttle-”

“Servitors?” Martin cut off the voice coming from the console, “No. No, no, no, no, no, no! That will not do! This is a delicate work of art! I can’t risk it to the lobsterous claws of those mechanical deadbeats!”

There was a long silence where Martin began to feel nervous pangs in his stomach before the voice responded in a clipped tone, “Very well.”

The embedded red lumens shut off and suddenly Martin was sharply aware of who he had just been talking to. Not five minutes later Barabas Dantioch appeared at Martin's quarters, the Adeptus Astartes found the young man pacing in his quarters.

Dantioch cleared his throat, “Artist Martin…”

And then his voice trailed off as the young man startled at Barabas’ appearance. Martin's shoulders relaxed and his eyes felt immediately smoother once he saw his face however. Standing before him was a robed figure, plain fabric to be sure but carried with such a martial grace that Martin was taken aback.

As ever, the Transhuman’s face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered over the canvas that had consumed all of Martin's life these past two weeks. The unease in Martin’s guts started to twist, and he tried his best to look somewhat dignified.

A moment passed, Sergeant Dantioch seemed to not even notice Martin, the entirety of his attention focused on the scene of war Martin had painstakingly crafted. Dantioch slowly lifted his hand and to Martin’s growing sense of hope, brought it up to his chin, rubbing the very tip of it slowly with three fingers.

Martin let out a quiet cough, then waited a moment, “Well?”

Dantioch’s rubbing paused, and his eyebrow arched, in the most human display of emotion he had seen anyone display since boarding, “I think it's well made. Come, we will not keep your judge waiting.”

Without another word, the robed Space Marine walked over to the canvas, and with his enormous reach, barely got one end gripped in each hand, his body disappearing before the beautiful scene of destruction Martin had brought to life, eyes peeking over the top.

“Follow me,” Came Dantioch’s slightly muffled command.

Martin nodded, rushing after his painting. The hallways cleared pretty quickly for the pair, not a soul daring to blemish the painting on its way to the shuttle bay. With each port they passed, Martin saw either a look of amazement or a neck craning to get another look.

The pair loaded into the shuttle: it wasn't the standard troop carrier that had picked him up. Instead as the robed Space Marine put down his artwork upon a pre-prepared frame, Martin realized he was stepping aboard a diplomatic vessel.

The seats were highly polished; not a crack on them. And instead of dull metal, it seemed that the craft had onyx and marble stone for floors. He collapsed into one of the smaller seats, shortly joined by Dantioch.

The artist let out a long sigh, and instead of a stomach churning lurch, he felt the gentle lift of the craft taking off.

Martin looked over at his guard, seeing for the first time the sheer musculature of the man before him. He noticed he could only see the Astarties’ wrists, neck, and nothing else of his bare skin; the robe hid all else.

But even with that the young artist’s lessons on anatomy were being challenged. Veins and bulges where they shouldn't be threw him off while his artistic instincts was unable to tear itself away on the sheer perfection in all the ways it differed.

“What is it?” Dantioch asked, his deep voice thrumbing around the cramped space.

“It's…everything. If you don't mind me saying Lord Dantioch, I would very much like to do a study of you out of your robes. Astarties…build and muscle is so different from everything I've seen in my studies. I want to get it right! Especially if I'm going to be painting for the legion.

As ever, the Iron Warrior was unreadable, but Martin swore he saw the Sergeant’s eyebrows slightly rise in surprise.

“You….expect to do a lot of scenery with Iron Warriors outside of their armor?” Barabas responded, diplomatically.

Martin rolled his eyes, “No, I don't, but knowing the body underneath the armor will help…form the picture in my head better. Translate it easier to canvas. And that means better paintings. And while I despise this as a selling point, it means more of them faster too.”

Martin gestured to the painting, annoyance in his voice, “I hope whoever is judging this understands that I couldn't do all the details I wanted because I only had two weeks.”

Barabas’ face went hard, lips parsing together ever so slightly.

“What?”

The Space Marine took a breath before looking directly into Martin’s eye, causing him to shrink in his seat a little, “We are on our way to the flagship of the fleet: The Iron Blood.”

He let the statement hang in the air before continuing, “And we are on our way to see Lord Perturabo now, he is your judge.”

Fear gripped Martin’s heart. His head twisted back to the painting, eyes pouring over every now-perceivable imperfection, every misplaced brushstroke.

“This is only my first painting for the legion! I wasn't expecting a Primarch to…” Martin found it impossible to pick the words out, none of them seemed right.

Dantioch nodded grimly, “I understand.”

He placed a huge, strong hand on Martin's shoulder and gave an impossibly reassuring squeeze.

“Fear not, given this is my surprise to him, any displeasure he may feel will fall on my shoulders.”

Martin’s eyes lifted up to the Space Marine then, eyes furrowed with worry and a frown forming on his lips, “Aren't you afraid that it's not good enough?”

The Iron Warrior took a single breath before replying, “Astarties know no fear.”

But to the artist, the words sounded hollow, worse they gave no comfort The last thing he wanted was for one of the Emperor’s warriors to suffer for the mistakes of an artist.

A long, uncomfortable, hour unspooled before them after that as the shuttle made the final approach vectors to their destination. Every story he could remember before joining and every hushed rumor he overheard in the mess hall or the corridors about the Iron Warriors’ Primarch came rushing to him. By the time Barabas grabbed the painting once more, Martin was wringing his robe’s belt in his hands.

The pair stepped aboard a massive elevator, Mechanicum attendants willing the great massive machine upwards, deep into the busy Iron Warrior’s vessel. Floor after floor of activity passed by them as they headed up and up, further and further until they reached some kind of observation deck. The machine “clanked” into position and the guardrails lowered. Martin saw that the windows on this level gave both a raw view out into space but also hololiths projected map data filled the room.

And on the far end was The Lord of Iron himself; there was no mistaking him. It wasn't just the massive armored size, there was a weight, a presence that made Martin know he was gazing at one of The Emperor's sons. A fragment of the full potential of humanity he had so longed to be a part of.

Dantioch strode into the room, and only then, did the armored behemoth address either of them in any way, “Put it on the easel.”

The voice was grating, hard, uncompromising, just hearing it sent a shiver down Martin’s spine. There seemed to be a growing weight in his mind that he couldn't help but imagine was there.

“Yes, My Lord.” Dantioch responded, gracefully walking to the center of the room towards a plain wooden artist’s easel of appropriate size. He gently laid it down, and walked back to Martin. Several of the maps around the room shut off, and the Primarch of the Iron Warriors turned to face them both.

The young man couldn't help but catch his breath, choking and gasping at the sheer presence of Perturabo and his own nerves.

He had seen pictures, but none of them could have prepared him for a face-to-face meeting. Beneath the terror and horror rising up in Martin’s stomach, inspiration flared within him.

The pictures almost made him look ugly, but the reality left only an impression of cold brutality. It was wrought in the very features of the Primarch, from his clean chin to the snaking mechanical tendrils attaching him to his massive, intricately crafted war suit.

A frown adorned the Primarch’s grim face, and his hard eyes seemed to slide effortlessly from the painter to the painting.

As Perturabo walked towards the center of the room more

[team-council-two]

So how is Spy a special case?

*is excited*

(for context, in a previous post, i added the tags " i could write an entire book on how unfamiliar french people in medias seem to actual french people, spy is an odd case; ask me about him")

aiight, you know what you signed up for, get ready for one hell of a presentation, ft terminal verbosis frenchosis ! this will be in three parts, of course, because three is a good number and the mere concept of having 3 parts should give you all a headache (look ray i didnt add a n this time)

wait shit im not even sure mistral is a spy, hold on,

aw fck thats for real ones

anyways femme fatale trope, next question

HA gotcha, you didnt think id let yall go with just one sentence huh ? so. our fella is french. our fella is a spy. our fella is a huge piece of shit. extremely common, alright ? outright overused archetype. eeeexcept that the combo's execution here REALLY stands out. how so ?

well, let me ask you a quick question. do you think the fact that he is french, and the fact that he is an evil bastard, and the fact that he is a spy are linked ?

well ill answer that for you. nope. valve treated these three traits remarkably separately. the way he speaks french in game is relatively polite, and the insults he throws around are, i checked, exclusively in english. he is surprisingly free of the usual way medias make "being evil" and "being french" be a hand in hand thing, and similarly free of the one that seems to indicate that Because you are french Of Course you are a spy. in other words, rather than being a walking glamour stereotype of sorts or an obnoxious asshole the likes of which we have seen hundreds of, this is a godawful guy that also happens to be a french snob, and that also happens to be a spy.

compare with, say, our lady mistral above who has a shitton of taunts in french, who embraces that whole sexy lady deal, deliberately plays on it and so on. difference is miles.

and now if you followed you did catch i said french snob rather than just french, there is a reason behind this, so allow me to get on part 2, which i promise will be WAY more verbose-

so

im not sure why but american medias love to have peppy rich french fashionistas in their shit. theyre cute, hyper, sheltered as fuck, and the entire deal is weird bc these people seem like aliens to actual french people who tend to care about fashion in pretty normal amounts and definitely do not have that many grands to bust into it. *yes* we pride ourselves in having a pretty neat fashion industry, but in a similar way as the american and the german boast about their cars. we are NOT obsessed with it okay. anyways, sometimes writers have the decency of making these characters cunts, but not always. but what doesnt vary is the trope seems to play out like ah yes, your average french- which is fucking baffling. and is the part taking us aback.

see, we HAVE the evil breed of those characters too in our shit. comedic shit, to be precise. a rundown of our humor is it often is situational humor - stupid outlandish situations with equally stupid archetypal characters, their personality equally pushed into the absurd, all of that more often than not thinly veiling some pretty heavy social commentary. in other words, you often laugh at the evil cop/rich factory/big restaurant owner/politician/etc getting karma'd in mind boggingly bizzare and hilarious ways, while clearly showing them as evil for mistreating subordinates (and often getting shit for it sooner or later) and as simpering cowards towards literally anyone who has any kind of superior position to them whatsoever.

in other words, context matters. where in american shit they are often allies or friends or comedic relief of sorts through being french/annoying or just villains, in french shit they more often than not are *targets* of some kind of events and shown to be ridiculous through other means than their obsession for fashion or whatever.

am i saying that valve did this ?

...yeah. thats a very bold statement, but yes. i mean, cmon,

see, i am overall basing this on the fact that ingame spy is so fucking similar to many, many, many of Louis de Funès' roles, and even his face, it outright had me searching around the wiki for some kind, any kind of claim of inspiration from valve-

he reads exactly as one of them ! rich cunt obsessed with money, constantly mocking people, constantly complaining about everything ever, fakely polite, not opposed to doing vile acts to have his way, extremely menacing face, *the same fucking laugh*, and the fact that characters played by this guy have remarkably often have what we call a couillon de fils, a dumbfuck of a loser ass son, if you will.

the only differences really are from comic spy, who reads far less like this. he's still well executed mind you, but he (especially @miss pauling) reads as far kinder than this dude's characters usually are, and he is a bit more... stretched, both physically and in behaviour, than the actor's goblin build and attitude, as game spy seems to be unable to stand straight whereas the comic one seems to have no difficulty with this, and the similar range of expressiveness that also ports 1:1 is game exclusive as well. and finally, comic spy also was not given the occasion to cuss people out, so.

anyways my point mostly amounts to, if you manage to make french people think of an emblematic actor beloved by many, rather than just make us go through the usual whiplash of "how is that a normal french person to american people ???", you are probably doing something right.

in addition to this wall of text, i am begging you all to watch this, it should help understand what i meant by our breed of humor, and what i mean by "spy could have been played by this dude no problem"

now, onto part 3,

well once you said he is a pathetic wet cat man you summed it up really.

for all the class he has, for all the money he has, for all the. everything ? he still is pathetic. he still is simply seen as a mean as fuck loser either trying to drown his failures as a father with expensive tastes, or simply amoral and unsympathetic because of his concerns being about money rather than about humans. he still is headcanoned as stinking by most of the fandom. nobody respects the fucken spy. he comes across as haughty and it only makes people want to shit on him some more.

really, it is pretty much everything I explained in the two points above. the patheticness helps with making it so he is not a stereotype, and it helps making it clear he is supposed to be representative of rich pretentious cunts rather than of french people.

so, he is a huge bitch, and ironically, this makes him a blorbo to us, bc who doesnt love a good ole flawed character ?

his whole french deal is not shown as eccentric or what makes him a loser but just a coincidence, in a sense. and you'd be surprised by how much of a breath of fresh air this is to french people. shitty in a realistic way rather than a made up clown, and in a way we can recognize in our own medias. it also is neat from the, err, fandom pov ? because you get to develop his frenchness and assholeness and spyness separately, since they are elements implemented for the sake of themselves rather than as a stereotypical whole. you get to have *fun* with him.

SO i think i ran out of things to blabber about. hope it makes sense tho. but i guess it really is about. not *quite* representation because we do not see ourselves in spy, of course, but way more about our culture not being bastardized and being turned into a joke about eccentrics at best, or hatred about seductive women and effeminate/homosexual men at worst, + having a fresh execution on tropes that else usually would get our eyes rolling.

alpha, over and out

[hotwings0203]

Guys I’m having another Bakugo brainrot

Tw: bullying, noncon, nonconsensual peeping, manipulation

Remember that one episode of MHA where the class goes to the sauna and M*neta tries to check da girls out over the wall?

Imagine the same scenario, but years later when they’re all older

The class wanted a reunion, just to relax and blow off some steam

You’re with the girls, and you all lay back in the hot water reminiscing about the older days when everyone was still getting the hang of their own quirks

Mina brings up this exact same scene but years ago.

“Ohmigosh, do you guys remember the last time we came in our first year here and Mineta totally tried to get a peek at us?”

“Ugh, I hope Iida is keeping a good hold on him right now,” Ochacko giggles, kicking her feet up to rest on a rock

You hum in agreement, tilting your head back to rest against the wooden wall separating you and the boys.

As it was, Uraraka was almost spot on with her hopes. Except, Iida and Tokoyami were out getting refreshments for the rest of the boys, leaving the remaining group to their own plot.

Which was lead by Mineta, of course, who had the brilliant idea to spy on the girls, just like they almost did years back.

“Guys, come on, please they’re right there!” He practically salivates, wildly gesturing to the tall wooden wall in front of them.

Most of them shift uncomfortably and groan about him being a creep as usual, but the rest stay silent.

Mineta takes their lack of outright refusal as fuel to keep blabbering.

“Look, we almost got away with it back then-“

“-You mean you got away with it, we didn’t do shit. And you didn’t exactly get off scot-free, Kota completely demolished your attempts and you landed ass down on Four-Eyes’ face,” Bakugo drawls, leaning his head backwards and looking up at the obsidian sky. The boys laugh, remembering the ridiculous event.

The night is cool, the stars littering the inky atmosphere take the pressure off of Bakugo’s lungs. For weeks now they’ve been training like dogs, battling each other and even minor villains for extra practice of their quirks. This trip was supposed to be a leisure getaway, not a free porno.

But the grape-headed perv is insistent, scoffing and waving the blond’s quip off like some annoying fly.

“You know, there’s something in it for you too, Bakugo. I’ve seen the way you look at Y/N.”

This causes a murmur and a couple of light beers towards the blond, who in turn snarls and ignites his hand to quell the commotion. All of them had an inkling that Katsuki Bakugo had finally set his sights on some poor girl, and that was you. It was such a rare sight to see his face flush slightly when you walked past him, the way he stuttered over his words a bit when you two would be conversing amongst the same group, and best of all, when they would see how he would excuse himself to the bathroom or locker room occasionally when your hero suit would tear in certain places after battles.

“Shut the fuck up 3’2, unlike you I don’t need to ogle at those brain dead bimbos.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize you thought of Y/N as a ‘brain dead bimbo’, Bakugo, I’ll be sure to let her know how you feel” Mineta grinned maliciously, and the boys ‘oooo’ed at the jab.

Bakugo’s voice caught in his throat.

“You wouldn’t,” he growled, rising slightly out of the water.

“I already know you’ll kill me afterwards, but I’m prepared for the repercussions if you don’t help...cooperate here,” Grapehead inspected a cuticle and feigned a yawn.

“Come on Bakugo, it’s not like it’s gonna hurt anyone! Well keep this to ourselves,” Denki chimed in a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re only asking for your and everyone’s support so that we can focus better on training y’know? A little fun never killed anyone.” Sero threw his arm over Kirishima’s shoulder, who blushed at the whole ordeal but kept silent all the while.

Katsuki looked around. Slowly, others were starting to really listen in and look interested at the outcome of Mineta’s plan. Surely a little peeping wouldn’t be too bad would it? And plus, it was only a one time thing.

Shoto was faring the same way as Kirishima, quiet and maybe embarrassed at what they were planning on doing, but no outright refusal. Even Deku had a weird longing glint in his eye, the same kind he would get when he used to fawn over All Might.

He thought about it for a minute more, a chance to see you, naked, honest, and pure, splashing around with your friends as you let your femininity dangle as it pleased.

“Do whatever the hell you want. I’m not taking blame if the bird and glasses come back, though.”

Hushed cheers and excited murmurs erupt from around the spring, and they huddle together to form a plan.

A couple minutes later, the boys were grouping around the wooden panels. Todoroki had burned a hole into the soft wood, and sero had used his transparent tape to cover it up so that the girls couldn’t see it from their side.

And there they were, completely bare, hair flowing, curves showing, voices mature and high pitched giggles emanating from around the water and bank.

Bakugo seeks you out immediately after the hole is made, shoving his way through the crowded bodies much to the amusement of others. But he doesn’t care, all he wants at the moment is to see you in your most honest element.

He doesn’t have to look long, because you’re right there, you’re right in front of them, only a few meters away. Your back is facing them, but the sight of your smooth, naked back and the round curve of your ass squishing against the rocks underneath you is enough to make Bakugo’s cock bob painfully above the water. It’s not too hard to hide his erection since the boys’s attention is elsewhere at the moment.

Your hair is open, and he wants nothing more than to feel it in his hands, run his fingers though your scalp and pull so hard that your neck is snapped back, he wants to know what kind of noises you’ll make for him, would you sound shrill and high pitched or would you wail and bellow for him to let go?

They can hear the girls talking amongst themselves, the hole in the wall makes their voices more audible and clear.

“Quit playing coy, Jirou, we know you’ve got your eye on someone,” Hagakure’s body is nowhere to be found as usual, but her chipper voice rings out from the middle of the hot spring.

Jirou is a few feet away from where you sit, her body also being shown for everyone to see. Bakugo glances at Kaminari to confirm his suspicion, but gags and quickly looks away when he gets an eyeful of his friends’ erect cock.

Not that Bakugo himself has room to talk, though.

“I mean, not really, it’s not a big deal.” The ravenette shifts and hides her head from the rest of girls’ cooing.

“Uh huh, sure. You’re not fooling anyone Kiyoka, I’ve seen the way you look at Denki. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other, it’s cute,” you purr, and Bakugo holds himself back from shoving the other guys out of the way just so that he can hear your voice the best.

Squeals and sounds of splashing fill the air, and Sero and Kirishima whisper excitedly and clap their red-faced friend on the back. Denki can’t keep the 50K watt smile off his face, and even Bakugo grunts and knocks shoulders with him, letting him know that he was happy for the human charger.

But then Jirou claps back with her own snarky observation, and the boys fall hush at the new revelation.

“Alright, you wanna talk about ogling Y/N? Then tell me, how’s Deku doing?”

“Or Bakugo, too,” Mina adds slyly, and now all the girls’ attention, as well as the boys’, is on you.

Bakugo felt like he had whiplash. He would’ve been elated, on Cloud 9 even to hear that maybe you had something for him too, had shitty Deku’s name not have been thrown in there too.

And he looks around wildly for the green haired freak, the freckles dusted across the expanse of his face even more prominent from the deep blush quickly forming, his scarred hands holding the sides of his face shaking in awe and gleeful shock.

But the rest of the boys aren’t as oblivious to how Bakugo seethes at his rival’s joy, from the way the water gets hotter from his quirk sparking underneath the rippling waves. Kirishima scoots closer to his friend and gently lays a hand on his shoulder as if to say, calm down, man. Not right now.

And so the hothead leaves it for the time being, opting to hear your response.

“I-it’s really nothing, they’re both just good classmates like the rest of the guys,” and although your back is turned to them, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re embarrassed too, your leg skittishly bouncing in front of you is making your ass jiggle from the back, much to the delight of the salivating boys.

Bakugo wants to spill blood when he suddenly realizes your body is being shown for the rest of these dogs to see

The girls start teasing you, your splutters being drowned out by their playful accusations.

“Come on L/N, whose cuter?”

“Dont act all coy now, I know how nervous you get when you’re all close to Bakugo. I mean I don’t blame you, have you seen his muscles? He could crush someone’s head with those things!”

“Yeah, but have you seen the way she giggles when Deku starts his mumbling tangents? That’s a classic crush right there.”

Bakugo is getting desperate to hear your answer now, some of the boys have left, feeling like they had their full of excitement for the night. They saw some tits and ass, heard some gossip, end of story.

The only ones remaining were Bakugo and his gang, as well as IcyHot and Shitty Deku.

Shitty Deku, who seemed equally eager to hear your response.

It pissed him off that he wasn’t getting the message to fuck off, even after all the growling and death stares he was receiving from his childhood friend.

But he guesses after a lifetime of dealing with it, it doesn’t scare Deku as much as it does anymore.

Maybe he’ll have to amp it up, later

“W-well I mean both of them have their own respective...flaws and strengths I guess..sometimes Deku can be kinda hard to talk to ‘cuz he’s so shy, but Bakugo can be a real jerk at times, too.”

You trail off, and Bakugo scoffs to himself. Him? Flaws? Those two words didn’t go well in one sentence together, but nonetheless he continues to listen. He wouldn’t refute the notion of him being an asshole, he wasnt that delusional.

“And yeah, I mean Bakugo definitely intimidates me sometimes with how aggressive he can be, but Deku is definitely getting up there in terms of physical prowess. But in terms of who I like, I’d have to say-“

“Midoriya! Bakugo! What are you two doing over there?”

Iidas voice booms across the water, and all 6 of the boys jump back, startled at the intrusion.

“No, wait-“ Bakugo hisses, clawing his way towards the hole to hear the rest of what you had to say, but Sero and Todoroki shove him back and patch the hole up with fire and tape, shutting off your confession.

Deku waves his arms around wildly, stammering some excuse of dropping his towel in the spot where they all were sheepishly gathered. They eventually waded their way over to where Tokoyami had set the drinks down, but the blond was shaking with hot rage despite the cool refreshment that was shoved into his hand by a wary Kirishima.

“Don’t sweat it dude, it’s not like her and Midoriya are gonna da-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll blast both your and his head off,” he glowers at the redhead, shorting a dark look to where an all-too-happy Deku was chatting with Todoroki, as if they hadn’t been drooling over their naked classmates merely a couple minutes ago.

Kirishima backs off with raised hands in surrender, leaving Katsuki to mull over the situation by himself.

You couldn’t seriously be interested in that green haired freak, right? I mean he could barely talk to a girl without tripping over his own damn tongue, for fucks sake.

Not that he was any better himself. He failed to acknowledge the times where you had merely asked him for an extra pencil, when he snapped at you for being such a fuckin’ dumbass that you couldn’t even remember to bring your own shit. He had done that out of pure impulse, but he regretted it the moment he saw your face fall, his heart clenching at the sight

He’d have to show you that he was the better option, regardless of if you wanted it or not.

And so when they had all gotten out of the water and gotten ready for food, Bakugo already knew what he had to do.

You were all eating outside in the camp pavilion, each at their own separate tables. He was sitting with the boys, all of them joking around and throwing food at each other while he was staring you down.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. How could you expect him to, after he had seen half of you bare already? It was sinful almost, the way you were completely in the dark about what he had seen and heard, while he himself was fantasizing about what you looked like and felt like on the front.

So when Deku came by your table, no doubt also having the same conversation of the springs in mind, wanting to get closer to you, Bakugo felt his sanity snap.

The fork he held in his hand started melting in his ignited hand, steam curling from his palm. He watched as the green-eyed fuck made successful shitty attempts to make you laugh, his eyes trained on where you gently laid a hand on his shoulder after something he said that made you throw your head back and howl with glee.

“Hey man, your fork-!” Kaminari yelped, pointing at the disfigured mess of metal in his friend’s steaming hand.

“Huh?” Bakugo was pulled out of his irate daze, and he quickly dropped the fork when he saw what he unconsciously did.

They all looked at him for an uneasy minute after noticing the expression on his face, no doubt understanding he was furious about being compared to Deku once again in front of you.

“Look, Bakugo, don’t really take what Y/N said to heart. We don’t know who she actually likes, and Midoriya’s just her friend...” but Sero trails off hesitantly after glancing in your direction, seeing Deku’s dreamy expression as your hand still continues to rest on his shoulder.

“Just let her come to you, yeah? You don’t wanna force anything on her, that’ll make her really uncomfortable-“

-“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair, and mind your own damn business,” Bakugo interjects, abruptly unscrewing his drink and standing up, unable to lose you to some broccoli- headed bug-eyed fuck.

He stiffly walks across the pavilion to where you two sit, and feigns a swig from his bottle. Your focus is still on Deku, so you don’t notice him approach until he comes up behind you two and ‘trip’s, falling forward and strategically spilling the liquid all over Deku’s back and your front.

You squeal as your blouse is drenched, and Deku shoots up from his seat to grab some napkins while searching for the perpetrator.

“What the- Kacchan?”

“Oops.”

Bewildered, you look at the two while dabbing the wet splotches on your shirt, Mina and Tsu jumping into action to help you.

The boys exchange a weird look, and although Bakugo gave his version of an apology, he doesn’t look very sorry. In fact, if you saw it right he looked almost...smug? With a bit of anger?

Deku wasn’t any easier to understand either. His voice was lilted as usual while he grabbed napkins, but his gaze never left his childhood friends’ and his eyes weren’t exactly the big doe-eyes you had grown fond of.

They were darkened, and narrowed as they bored into Bakugo’s eyes. Neither one of them was looking away from each other, and there was a weird tension in the air that everyone could sense.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, you had to go and wash up.

“I gotta change and maybe take a shower, I can feel it sticking to my skin,” you scrunch your nose in disgust and tell Mina as you stand to leave. Deku offers to walk you, but you wave him off kindly.

As you pass by Bakugo, you can feel his eyes rove up and down your body, very obviously staring at the way your white shirt clings to your chest from the liquid, sending chills up your spine.

But he doesn’t come after you, not yet.

It’s only after everyone has finished up from their dinner and headed off to bed almost 20 minutes later that the showers finally, finally warm up enough for you to dip a hesitant toe in.

Curse the old pipes.

*******

He watches you from the dark, the only light you’re provided with is the dim emergency light from the rusty bulb, the camp counselors having been shut the facility’s lights off merely a half hour ago. But you were stubborn in waiting for the water to warm up so you were left alone in the showers, shifting uncomfortably in your sticky wet clothes.

And then miraculously you get up for the umpteenth time to check the temperature of the water, and it’s finally deemed appropriate for you when you sigh in relief and start taking your shoes off.

He hides in the door partition, his cock hardening slowly as he thinks of you alone with just him and his mercy. You were going to pay for almost breaking his heart and prancing around with stupid fucking Deku instead.

But asides from his rage, he still liked you, a lot. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you, so he decided to try and attempt to make your first time with him as gentle and as special as he could in the dirty cabin showers.

Bakugo waits with bated breath for the right moment, and the second your hands grip the end of your shirt to pull it up, he slowly emerges from the dark.

“You know, I’m glad you came here alone, at night. It’s almost like you wanted this.”

You jump violently at the low voice coming from seemingly nowhere, and you wildly look around for the source until you see him...coming at you slow from the inky abyss of the room, like a predator stalking his prey.

His figure seems to loom even larger than he actually is, the shadows of his tall body bouncing off the walls and grazing over the top of your head. He seems to be in no rush, taking his time with his hands in his pockets, eyes flashing dangerously at you as he stalks forward until he’s backed you up against the deteriorating wall, chest to chest with you.

“W-what the hell, Bakugo,” you stammer nervously. “This is the girls room, you can’t be here-“

And the hand you raise to push him away is caught in his calloused ones, your other wrist is quickly seized as well and slammed above your head. You cry out in pain and try kicking out, but he wedges a bulky knee in between your thigh and shoves his face mere millimeters away from yours, a mean leer adorning his normally-attractive face.

“What, I can’t be here? And here I was thinking that you almost liked me. But oh, I forgot, Deku’s your favorite, right?” The grip on your wrist tigthens and his leg flexes from in between your thighs.

You squirm and sob, about to ask what the hell he was talking about-

Oh.

Oh no.

He sees the understanding pass over your face, and he laughs cruelly at the horror that comes with it.

“You heard me? How?”

“Not just heard. I saw you, too.”

He lets his eyes drop from your neck, to your chest, and then to the juncture between your legs which was being massaged by his knee.

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize he was watching you this entire evening in the springs. How he got away with it, you didn’t want to even know.

“I saw your hair open for the first time, and not in that stupid hairdo you always do for school.”

He trails his hand softly up the sides of your body and up your neck until he reaches his big hand into your scalp. You whimper and gasp as he laces his fingers through your locks, seeming to caress you but then harshly yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at him head on.

“I saw your ass pressed up against the rocks, and I wished it was up against my cock instead.”

He removes his hand from your hair and snakes it down to your bottom, kneading and slapping it lightly. You writhe even harder now, too scared to make a noise in case he hurts you even worse, just wanting him to get the hell off of you.

“But I didn’t see the front of you. I imagined what you would look like with tears streaming down your face while I was stuffing you full of me”

He plays with the edge of your shirt, a dark look in his eye as he plays with you. You try to budge your hands but to now avail, only serving in annoying him and shoving his knee up further into your crotch. The pressure on your clit is immense, and your legs start shaking as you’re forced to be suspended almost midair on his knee.

“Take this off,” he says softly, the rasp catching in his voice.

“Bakugo, please. You don’t have to do this, I swear I won’t tell anyone-“

“You think I’m worried about if you’ll tell anyone? Hah! I already know you won’t, wanna know why?”

He leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair and grazing his nose along the side of your neck. You force yourself to breath in and out, feeling an impending heart attack.

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of everyone, especially on Deku’s broken body.”

And then you can’t stop them, the tears fall from your body shaking in pure fear at his threat.

You knew he wouldn’t actually do something like that, but hearing it snarled in your ear so softly made you believe it all the same, the power he held while you were fucked, literally and metaphorically.

“Now I’m not gonna ask you again. Take this shit off before I burn it, bitch.”

You don’t want to piss him off further, so with trembling hands you lift the edge of your sticky uniform and start to pull it off, but he stops you with a frustrated grunt.

“Slowly. I wanna savor this while no ones here.”

You bite your lip and suppress a scream as you do what he says.

And oh, does he ever savor it. The shirt clings deliciously to your breasts, and he licks his lips as it ruffles up and over your head. Your skin is perspiring from the humid air, a sheen of sweat lightly decorating your collarbones. Bakugo can’t hold himself back any longer, and you yelp when he comes at you suddenly.

He lunges at your face and pins your arms down by your side again as his lips mesh against yours, his kiss filled with clacking teeth and a thrashing tongue against your lips. The knee you’re straddling is bouncing lightly up and down, jostling you on it and causing your cunt to pulsate with heat.

You let out a distressed moan, and he swallows it greedily, using the advantage of your open mouth to delve deeper into your wet cavern. You open bleary eyes and flinch when you find his already wide open, staring back into unforgiving vermillion orbs.

He pulls back slightly, panting. “I bet Deku didn’t get this kind of treatment, huh? It’s all for me right?”

You don’t know if he’s genuinely asking you or just being insane, so you don’t answer him. Fortunately and unfortunately for you, he doesn’t care for your response, rather more focusing on dragging you by your neck towards the hot showers.

You slip and stumble as he shoves you in a stall, gaining your balance only too late when he turns and locks the door.

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, just forget you saw or heard anything at the springs, it was just girl talk, stupid stuff that didn’t mean anything-“

“-even if it didn’t mean anything to you I’ll make sure you believe what you’ll feel after I fuck you senseless.”

And with that, he tugs off his clothes and licks his lips at the sight of you cowering against the wall, naked and oh so vulnerable.

He slowly shifts towards you, pressing his body flush against your trembling one. You can feel the outline of his erection on your thigh, and you swallow at how big it is.

“I don’t wanna have to close your mouth or restrain you when I’m balls deep in that tight cunt. So don’t do anything stupid and this’ll be a whole lot easier for you.”

He reaches a hand down and lightly strokes your labia, relishing in how you whimper and jerk against him, but don’t dare try to stop his hand.

Smart girl

Another hand finds its way to your tits, tugging and pulling at your hardened nipples. You gasp and arch into his touch, slowly coming undone from his ministrations. He humps against your leg like a teenage kid, grunting while he does so.

His mouth is attacking yours once again, but now you’re too tired from the constant surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins to even move your head. You just let him play with your body, your heart, your soul.

“I think the princess is wet enough for me now,” he leers at you when he pulls his fingers away, scissoring his digits to show the strings of wetness he pulled from your pussy.

You squeal and grab onto his chiseled arms as he suddenly hikes his hands underneath your upper thighs and picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his middle for support.

He slams you against the wall, the water cascading down your head is making your hair stick to your face, and in a strange and sudden show of intimacy Bakugo softly moves your locks away from your eyes. Your gazes lock, yours desperate and tear filled while his scarlet hues show no signs of mercy, but rather a strange predatory hunger.

Your arms scrabble behind his head and on his shoulders for balance as he slowly sinks you down on his length. You hiss and throw your head back at the sensation of being filled, and he eats it up.

He watches the way your mouth opens, your eyes widen, as every sinful sound your body can make escapes you.

As if he needed more of an ego boost

You wail as the last inches are sucked into your dripping hole, and he lets out a mean breathy laugh.

“Fuck, you really were ready huh? I should’ve taken you weeks ago, little slut.”

Your brows furrow and you try to turn your face away but he snatches your chin in a hardened grip.

“Uh-uh, none of that shit. You were doing so well, don’t turn away from me now.”

He slowly starts to roll his hips minutely into yours, not exactly thrusting but enough movement to make your cunt flutter and throb.

“What do you want me to say? You got what you wanted!” You whisper to him, more tears falling down freely down your cheeks.

He can’t help himself, he groans and surges forward to lick the salty rivers up, gripping your ass tightly when you flinch.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me how much you want me, how much better I am than that green-haired bastard and I won’t shove it up your ass.”

You can feel his abdomen clench and shake from the effort he’s making not to completely batter your cervix so you give in quickly, afraid of what he’s like when his thin strands of self restraint snap.

“I...I love you Bakugo. I really want y-ooh!”

The last bit of your sentence is choked off as he lifts you up all the way to his tip and slams your hips down his length. You gasp and weave your hands through his hair for support, your legs violently shaking at the pain.

He grunts and starts really giving it to you, setting a fast pace as he bounces you on his cock. Your head is bobbing around, you’re fairly certain there’s drool coming down your lips but you can’t find it in you to care as he fucks you into oblivion.

After a couple of more painful thrusts he pushes you against the wall and removes your hands from his hair, holding them above your head against the wall. You’re trapped with your upper half plastered against the dingy tile while your lower half is wrapped his dick.

Your cunt swallowing him down is the only leverage you have, so your whole body weight presses down on his shaft. He moans loudly at the pressure on his tip, your gooey hot walls clamping around him from every angle and you yourself can’t help it when your eyes roll back at the sensation.

He rocks his hips up, and up you go as well, whining and clawing at the wall behind you, desperately grappling onto your sanity as well. Your tits bounce with each thrust, and his glinting eyes take perverse joy in their obscene movements.

Bakugo starts moving in earnst now, deeming the slow strokes enough prep for you. He batters your womb, reaching places not even your fingers could access, making you go cross eyed.

He sees this and snickers at your pathetic state.

“Fuck yeah you little whore. You’re gonna learn no one else can satisfy this slutty pussy like I can.”

You give him nothing but a choked gasp in response. You head moves like a bobblehead, you can’t even see clearly from the water cascading into your eyes. He’s just a towering blob of ashy blond hair and large muscles.

His hips start stuttering in their rhythm, drawing to a close from his contrasting pounding minutes earlier. Your nails rake over his forearms, holding on for dear life as he pants and groans into your ear like an animal. His dick spasms inside you for a second or two, and then Bakugo suddenly holds you tight against him, wet bodies pressed against each other as he cums.

He lets out a loud moan as you whine into his shoulder at the sensation of his hot seed filling you up. You’re held against his heaving chest for a moment of two, the both of you catching your breath until he slowly backs up and lets you slip to the ground.

It’s suddenly very quiet, the sound of the shower is drowned out by the ringing in your head. You’re shaking, shock overcoming your abused body as you refuse to look at him.

But he won’t have any of that. He steps forward, and you flinch yet again, scrambling backwards to put very necessary space between him and you.

“You got what you wanted. Please leave, I won’t say anything to anyone.” You breath out shakily.

He’s silent for a moment before you hear him chuckle. His low chuckles grow louder and more derisive, he’s booming with sinister laughter and you snap your head up in horror at him.

“You think this is done?”

He crouches to your level suddenly, elbows on his knees as he cocks his head at you, eyeing your naked body that he so recently claimed as his. His gaze travels down to where his cum seeps from between your legs, and you quickly cross your limbs over to prevent him from seeing the lewd sight.

“You’re mine now, Y/N. I already told you, you’re not gonna be talking to Deku, or any other guy apart from me. You think they’ll even want you when they find out how you loved being fucked in the dirty showers? Everyone’s gonna call you a slut, nothing else.”

“No, that’s not true you-“

He crawls to you, and it’s so mesmerizingly terrifying to see a man of his build crawl to you like some deranged humanoid that you shut up, words caught in your throat.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says softly. “You’re my bitch now, and you’ll do whatever the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Bakugo might’ve felt a little bad to see the girl he liked so scared of him all because of his doing, but the way you trembled and crossed your legs like the stupid, helpless little girl that you were erased every hesitancy from his mind.

He grabbed your cheeks and smushed them together, paying no mind to the pleas and whimpers you let out in retaliation.

Licking a long stripe up your neck, you shivered when he growled, “now clean up and be outside in 10 minutes, you’re sleeping in my bunk tonight. The guys are all asleep so we’ll just take an empty room in the cabin.”

He released you and stood back up, grabbing a towel for himself along the way. Drying his hair off, his back was turned to you as he started picking his clothes up too.

You just sat there in a daze, wondering what the hell just happened.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was dressed, and he was at the door now.

“If you think about doing anything stupid or take longer than 10 minutes, I’ll come back in and get you personally. And I’ll make sure that we stay here for the rest of the night, just in case you like your little time alone that I’m giving you too much.”