#and its only five chapters in. and it just sucks cause i want to work on it and finish it and hope people like it as much as i do

[the-kipsabian]

i do really miss writing immortal fears tho

[tgmsunmontue]

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 3/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

              “I have heard rumors of this place, a haven, for those from Cybertron. A place with a skilled technician, even if they are human. We will need to check there, see if Jetfire’s wings have maybe made it there. I know there are… others there.”

              Jake gets the feeling that he’s not quite getting the whole story but he is more worried about the logistics.

              “Do you know where it is?”

              “I can fly there.”

              “Great for you. Do you need me to get there with Jetfire? Because I’m going to need a bit more than your gut instinct.”

              “I will guide you. It is West of here. And North.”

              “North West. Which leaves most of the entire fucking continent ahead of me, but sure, let’s get to work. I only have four more weeks of leave.”

              He organizes to borrow one of the large equestrian truck and trailers, says he’s taking the plane to a specialist welder, which isn’t that much of a stretch when he considers it. In the dead of night he watches as Starscream simply lifts the pieces of Jetfire into the back and wishes he had that much strength at his disposal. He’s pretty sure Starscream will only do as he asks for as long as it serves his own purpose, and that purpose right now is getting his friend fixed up. And for that he currently needs Jake.

…           …           …

              Maybe his friends were right and his car is possessed. He had fallen asleep once and when he’d woken up they’d been over halfway back to California. Even if he doesn’t have to buy gas he’s getting very sick of simply zig-zagging across middle-America. He puts his feet on the brake and while it doesn’t respond immediately it does slow down and pull over and Bradley gets out and walks for a bit, ignoring as best he can that the car is following him at a crawling pace. He’s pretty sure kicking the tires is not a good idea.

              “Look… I want to go home to Virginia Beach.”

              Something is wrong with my baby… the radio crackles out, and then Something is wrong is repeated and he doesn’t like the way all the little hairs on his forearms suddenly prickle up.

              “Okay. Okay. Message received loud and clear. Get us back to… wherever it is you need to go. Uh. Do you need me there? Cause I could just leave you to it if you like?”

              I still want you by my side…

              “Man your taste in music really sucks.”

              You’re not better than me.

              “You aren’t making a good argument…” Bradley mutters, but he gets back in and resigns himself to going wherever his car wants to take him.

…           …           …

              “I am not a robot and I cannot drive non-stop!” Jake hisses at Starscream. He’d punctuate his words with a finger to the chest, except he feels like he’d likely break a finger. Also having to reach that far up probably makes the gesture just look silly. “I am a human and I need to eat and sleep and take fucking toilet breaks. Go and hide yourself in a field somewhere if you’re meant to keeping a low profile. I am getting food and then sleeping for eight hours.”

              Starscream stalks off muttering about pushy humans but Jake cannot bring himself to care. He’s been driving for over fourteen hours, and he’s used to pushing his body to its limits, but he cannot drive another five minutes. His eyes are gritty, body stiff and his stomach is grumbling. His bladder is also screaming at him and he quickly enters the diner, orders food and then makes a beeline for the bathroom. His body slumps with relief and he heads back to eat and enjoy his food. He’s also refueling the truck, another thing Starscream doesn’t seem to appreciate.

              He pulls himself into the back of the truck, runs his fingers over the body of Jetfire, the vibrations under his fingers still there and he knows he’s probably not imagining it now. He pulls out the bedroll and camping mattress he’d packed, not prepared to pay for accommodation when he could bunk in the truck. The smell of horses isn’t anything that bothers him. He falls asleep and doesn’t feel the rocking motion of movement.

…           …           …

              He wakes up feeling rested, glances at his watch and yep, seven hours sleep exactly. He leaves the bedding where it is, knows he’s likely going to need it again and unlocks the door, pushing it open. He’s expecting to see the truck stop, other trucks pulled in for a rest. Except that’s not where he is at all. He’s somewhere else, nothing but tussocky grasslands stretching in every direction, mountains in the distance. There’s a road, long and straight in both directions and he groans. He has no fucking clue where he is, or where he’s meant to be going, or where Starscream has fucked off to. He walks around the side, and hunched in the shadow of the truck, trying to conceal himself, is Starscream.

              “Oh, there you are. Did you… drive us here?”

              “Carried. I had to stop and hide often, but the cover of darkness helped. I had to stop when dawn approached.”

              “Of course you did. Where are we?”

              “California.”

              “Okay. So I’m guessing no more West. Just North now?”

              “We are close. Less than an hour travel.”

              “Oh. Cool. Uh. You have any more instructions you can give me?”

              Starscream tries his best, or at least Jake hopes he’s trying, but then he mentions he can land there as a plane and Jake looks at him in disbelief.

              “So it’s an airstrip?”

              “Yes.”

              “Okay, then there’s likely to be signs, and wind socks and other things I can use to guide me.”

              “There are buildings, shaped like this,” Starscream says, drawing a semicircle in the dirt and Jake nods.

              “Hangars. There are hangars. That’s to be expected.”

              “One is… newly painted. That is the one we want,” Starscream states and then pauses. “It may not be a warm welcome.”

              Jake groans.

              “Now you tell me.”

              “You will be fine.”

              Jake raises a disbelieving eyebrow, he has no real choice but to go along with it, his curiosity almost at fever pitch. Also he wants to see if he can get Jetfire up and working again.

              He drives.

…           …           …

              When he starts recognizing things his stomach starts sinking, unable to believe that he’s heading towards Maverick’s hangar. There’s a chance that, however slim, that they’ll blow past the turnoff, but nope, the Bronco is slowing and the turn signal is flashing and he crosses his arms, feeling justified in his sulk. He can’t believe he’s been abducted by his own freaking car, which is now moving very slowly, and Bradley is starting to feel uneasy, because it’s like his car has suddenly gotten cautious, like it’s expecting something. And not something good.

              It stops by the hangar and Bradley reaches for the door, but then the locks all slam into place and Bradley slams his hands on the dash.

              “Seriously?!”

              “Be quiet.”

              His jaw drops, because that was definitely a voice, not music coming from the radio, not something he could even begin to pass off as his imagination. He doesn’t know if he could make noise now even if he hadn’t just been told to be quiet. Then he sees the large horse truck driving down the road that is parallel with the airstrip, and he wonders what about it seems to have his car effectively pacing in front of the hangar doors. Then the doors are opening but his attention is drawn to the plane coming into land. He’s pretty sure it’s an F-15 Eagle, and god, he wouldn’t put it past Maverick to have collected yet another fighter jet, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face Maverick himself.

              Then the unthinkable happens, the plane seems to crumple midair as it comes to land, and he thinks it’s undergone catastrophic failure before realizing it’s reforming into something else and is landing on two legs rather than wheels and he’s blinking fast, trying to double check his vision isn’t making things up. Then he feels his car move around him and he’s tossed, semi-gently and then his car is also on legs rather than wheels and he just gapes up at it, mind racing.

…           …           …

              Holy shit.

              Holy fucking shit.

              There are so many of them.

              Nearly everything that he can see is changing form and suddenly looking a fuck load more aggressive and he shrinks back, presses himself into the leather of the seat. He thought he saw someone else, a human someone else, not a robot someone, because he’s seeing dozens of them right now. Wonders a little hysterically if this is some type of convention, and if it is, what they all discuss. Can they all talk? Sucking in a deep breath he decides he needs to get out and ask questions, even if the welcome is so far a little frosty. Starscream had predicted this.

              “Human. They will not hurt you. Me however…” Starscream shrugs then and Jake has gotten pretty good at reading his expressions, and he’s not comfortable right now. While he isn’t the friendliest of… robots, he hasn’t threatened to anything bad, and Jake isn’t going to let a bunch of other robots take him down. Not that he can really stop them if they decide to.

              “Look, uh, hi? My name is Jake… we’re hoping we might get some help to fix our friend, Jetfire?”

              “Decepticon scum, you come here asking for help?” the blue robot which had been a Bronco only ten minutes okay spits out and Jake looks to Starscream, because he doesn’t understand Decepticon, but he does understand scum and the tone leaves nothing to the imagination. Saying it might not be a warm welcome was maybe underselling it a bit he thinks.

              “I do not come seeking help for me. The human speaks true. We have the body of Jetfire. I thought here might… be the best place to bring him.”

              It’s a staring competition between Starscream and the Bronco-robot and Jake’s reminded of stand-offs between some guys in high school, waiting to see who will blink first. He’s pretty sure the fallout from these two exchanging blows would do considerable more damage.

              “Neither of you rule here, this is my space, and you will not begin anything. Do I make myself understood?”

              Jake doesn’t know who the new robot is, but the tone of voice is sharp, commands respect and seems to rebuke both of the other robots despite the fact they’ve both taller by at least a foot. He’s not sure what kind of vehicle they’re meant to be, but it’s more similar to Starscream than the Bronco-bot. Regardless, he can’t help but be impressed.

CHAPTER FOUR

[imliketheiceifreeze]

Recombinant Miles Quaritch X OC

My Little Scientist- Chapter Five

Warnings: Light smut, violence, swearing, alcohol use, minors DNI

2,258 words

Chapter 6

She was dropped onto a bed much larger that her own, Miles' enormous frame completely dwarfing hers as he leant over her, caging her in with his hands pressed into the pillows by her head.

"You're such a mess baby,"

he cooed, mockingly, making her feel crestfallen, was he embarrassed by her? She guessed her needy drunk state had pushed him away for good; pouting at the thought, she turned away.

"Aww don't be upset baby, I love watching you make a mess of yourself, especially over me."

His grin widened as his ravenous eyes raked over her heaving chest, the silky dress clinging to her hips whenever she moved, barely maintaining her dignity. He used his thumb and forefinger to pinch her chin, gently turning her head back to him.

"Miles, stop teasing me,"

she whined in annoyance, rubbing her thighs together to provide some relief to her aching core.

"What, stop teasing you like you've been teasing me for the past week? Oh I don't think so sweetheart. Your actions, they have consequences."

He virtually growled out, fangs on full display as his tail whipped behind him ferociously. He delivered a hard slap to her upper thigh and ass, causing her to arch her back and let out a sound between a yelp and moan, the alcohol removing any sense of shame she once held.

"I think you liked that a little too much baby."

She shook her head no, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she wanted him, (not that her body language could be called subtle).

"want me to check?"

His fingers ghosted her upper thighs, dipping under her dress and only pausing when he met her eyes, waiting for her consent to continue. She nodded eagerly at the prospect of having some relief from the burning heat spreading through her body. He parted her thighs softly, eyeing her cunt with interest before slowly dragging one finger along her clothed core from the pulsing ring of her vagina to her swollen clit before pulling away, leaving her writhing beneath him.

"Oh sunshine, you're so fucking wet."

He breathed in disbelief, pressing his thumb and forefinger together to watch her nectar string in the space between them making her whimper at the obscene display.

"Is this all for me?"

He inquired, ears tipping back as if there was any answer but him.

"It's all for you Miles,"

she whispered coyly, eyelashes batting slowly in his direction as heat creeped its way up her cheeks. He lifted his finger to his mouth, sucking with fervour, cheeks hollowing until he released it with a squelching pop.

"Hmm, sweet as honey darlin'."

His voice had become not much more than a strained grunt as he cleaned off his thumb too, maintaining eye contact with Gaia all the while, god what had she gotten herself into? This man was filthy.

"But, this is meant to be punishment you know, and I think you're enjoying yourself far too much,"

he patted her thigh once more before getting up from the bed, leaving her hot and bothered in his sheets, removing his tank before unclipping his belt and casting that aside as well. Her breath hitched as he popped open the button on his trousers, unzipping and pulling them from his body swiftly along with his boxers, leaving him standing proudly, cock on full display to her greedy eyes, noticing he was fully hard and pulsing, leaking beads of precum from the purple, mushroomed tip.

"Alright sunshine, get some sleep, I'm gonna go shower,"

he announced in a commanding tone, shooting her a cocky smirk before he turned on his heel as always, marching towards the door of his ensuite, giving her full view of his perfectly muscular ass as he slammed the door, locking it behind him.

"Fuuuck,"

she groaned, turning to scream curses into his pillows. That motherfucker, working her up just to leave you like this, even when he was so clearly suffering. But she knew better than to test his resolve, as a military man his self control was head and shoulders above hers, especially in her inebriated state, and she dared not go against his clear instructions. Go to sleep and don't bother me right now.

Fortunately, passing out with as much alcohol as she had in her system was surprisingly easy and before she knew it, she was softly snoring, cuddled up in Miles' sheets, enveloped by his comforting scent; in that moment she couldn't imagine ever sleeping again without him by her side.

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

Her head was pounding when she eventually came too with a groan, why the fuck did I drink so much? She asked herself, rolling over and reaching for her nightstand, only for her hand to be met with something soft and warm. She withdrew it quickly, a noise showing a strange mix of disgust and surprise falling from her mouth before opening her eyes to look upon the object of her aversion.

The colour drained from her face to see Colonel Quaritch laid out on his back in only sweatpants, with one arm under her head as a makeshift pillow as he breathed heavily. She couldn't help but stare at his relaxed features, he looked so young like this, so peaceful, not an inkling of the 50 year old man inhabiting the recombinant body could be seen; it made an unfamiliar protective feeling unfurl itself in her chest. She stroked her fingertips against the blue stripes on his cheek, following them to his forehead before tracing between the starlike freckles on his nose, brushing her thumbs against his relaxed brows and watching his lashes flutter at the sensation.

She gasped when his amber eyes opened unexpectedly fast, eyes pinning her with a hard stare that halted her exploration.

"Sunshine,"

He spoke her (unofficial) name teasingly, one hand grabbing at her waist to keep her locked to his side causing her blush to increase tenfold as she wriggled away, trying to avoid his gaze.

"What's wrong? You going shy on me sunshine? You sure weren't shy last night."

His words made her burn, oh god, that wasn't some kind of hallucination, she had caused so much of a scene that the Colonel had to drag her away over his shoulder, apparently to his own room where he... Her breath hitched at the memory of his eyes boring into hers as he touched her, and how he looked standing there fully undressed, allowing her eager eyes to wander over him, to his cock standing proud between his legs, glistening with precum. She'd never thought she'd find a cock beautiful before but his.. was something else, it seems the blue stripes and freckles really were all over...

"I'm sorry sir for causing such a scene, I was very drunk and I know that's not an excuse, but it won't happen again."

She apologised as she would any other superior, bowing her head in remorse, yet his groan caught her off guard as she watched him lull his head to one side.

"Are you really calling me sir right now?"

The implication of his words was definitely not what she needed in that moment, already feeling as though her legs were turning to jelly as she was unable to meet his intense gaze.

"I'm sorry sir- I mean I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

His unimpressed expression did nothing to lessen her humiliation.

"You don't need to apologise darling, I rather enjoyed myself,"

His tail wrapped around her thigh whilst he held her with both hands around her waist, his devilish grin letting her know exactly what he was envisioning.

"However, if you flirt with one of my soldiers again sugar, I won't hesitate to show them who you belong to, understood?"

She scoffed at his narcissism, what, was she, some kind of toy to him?

"Belong to? I'm not a possession Miles."

She was the one to turn from him this time, causing his smug manner to drop, as he now scanned at the back of her neck perplexed. She couldn't tell why but she felt a gnawing fear that all of his bravado was for show, and once she gave him what he wanted, all the pet names, all the glances and touches would disappear until he moved on to his next target.

Cutting her out of her uneasy thoughts, she felt something cool being placed around her neck, looking down to see Miles' dog tags sitting pretty on her chest.

"There, now I belong to you too sunshine,"

he rasped in her ear, fingers caressing her arm gently and she turned her head over her shoulder, discovering the soft look that adorned his features. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, realising that after everything she still had yet to do such a simple thing. Seeming to read her mind, Miles tilted her head with one finger under her chin leaning in a little closer, apprehension swimming in his eyes. Gaia was the one to close the gap, gasping softly at the electricity that jolted through her from such a tender action. As her lips began to move in sync, she grasped tightly at her newly acquired dog-tags to keep her grounded. It was a chaste, lingering kiss that left her lips tingling long after they were no longer connected and she couldn't stop herself from rubbing a finger along her lips as if it were her first. Although, Miles didn't seem to be in much better stead, head now buried in her shoulder, leaving more gentle kisses in his wake.

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

"Do you think they fucked last night then?"

Z-dog mused, popping another bubble as she lifted a dumbbell with ease.

"Z, they probably fucked back at the last mission,"

Lyle laughed a little as he continued his pullup reps.

"Or even earlier, I mean have you ever seen the Colonel call someone sunshine before?"

The other recombs in the gym snickered, this was true, their Colonel was always a rough character, never having much time for the any people on this base, women or not.

"Seems like she wanted to get you involved though Mansk haha,"

Z whipped Mansk with a towel, laughing wickedly at his forlorn face.

"Nah, she was just drunk is all, waiting for the Colonel to show up,"

he replied, trying to sound self-assured but failing miserably, everyone could tell he was already sweet on the woman the moment she walked into the base.

"Aw cheer up Mansk, there's other pussy around,"

Lyle spoke matter-of-factly, dropping off the bar he'd been using to give his companion a compassionate slap on the back.

"But did you see the way he carried her out? Poor girl's probably in a wheelchair by now."

Z-dog raised her brows suggestively, twirling the same piece of gum round her finger as she moved the conversation on, causing the room to erupt in laughter.

"Yeah, or how he bent her over in that sparring session, had him walking funny after and all,"

Lyle chipped in, both finding great amusement in the unfolding of their Colonel's fucked up love story.

"Either way I'm happy if it keeps Colonel in a good mood, when he's pissed off training's hell,"

Mansk finally involved himself in the conversation, earning a few oorah's from around the room as they all carried on with their workouts cheerily, continuing to share more stories of what each eagle eyed troop had spotted between them both.

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

Back in the lab, Gaia's pounding head didn't prevent her from delving into her research, in fact her experience in the jungle had only heightened her passion for the Na'vi people.

She worked alongside June who informed her of all the gory details-much to her protest-of her night with Mike, insisting that they were now exclusive, which she could at least be happy about, proud of Mike for finally stepping up instead of cowering around her like a frightened little mouse.

Gaia, on the other hand, had refrained from telling June too much about her own evening, though she was sure that the rumours that had reached her were already far worse than what had occurred. However, she couldn't stop her from spying the glistening metal tucked away in her shirt, gasping when she uncovered what she were hiding

"He gave you his dog tags? That's the cutest shit I've ever seen Gai, you must have fucked his brains out, damn...I didn't know you were so talented."

June blurted out animatedly, making her blush, but she made no efforts to correct her seeing that everyone had already made their minds up about hers and the Colonels private activities. But as she worked away she couldn't help but think about the last thing Miles had said to her before she was, unfortunately, forced to leave the comfort of his bed.

"Listen, I've got a mission coming up in a few weeks, a big one, I'm finally gonna catch that sonofabitch Jake Sully, but I might be gone for a while okay?"

He had been leaning against the doorframe as he said it, stooping down to meet her eye as he gingerly stroked her cheek with his knuckles. She had nodded hesitantly, making him promise to come back to her before wishing him goodbye. However, in her head it was a different story, she was formulating a plan and she didn't intend on being left alone on this base like some lonely housewife...She'd find a way into that mission whether Miles liked it or not.

Taglist:

@ab-haya

@isabellekenway

@mechformers 

@lvangel98

@htnw004

@jayedillon

[c0ffee-stain]

Whispers

Five Hargreeves x f!reader

Navigation • Previous Chapter: Chapter 7 - 1.07 • Chapter 8 - 1.08 • Next Chapter: Chapter 9 - 1.09

Denial

The scratches and taps of chalk against the boy's bedroom wall, along with the gentle breeze whistling outside the window was enough to slowly lull me into a state of peace I hadn't felt in years. The usual quiet and calm nature of the Hargreeves estate differed immensely to the lively, bustling headquarters of the Commission. A place where people were afraid to sleep in fears of waking up with a knife in their back, or not waking up at all.

A thought passed through my mind, forcing the ends of my lips to curl upwards in a sly manner. Even though I despised the Hargreeves family and everything they stood for, I couldn't deny the beauty of the house, with its grand, rich ebony doors, exposed brick, and meticulous fireplace.

A great location to purchase once my mission is completed and my retirement begins. My mind quickly crafted a plan to purchase the house several decades before the Umbrella Academy decided to make it theirs, and stick to the natural antiquity of the estate.

The loud screech of chalk against the wall pulled me out of my thoughts to focus on the boy in uniform in front of me, who was standing atop his bed. I grimaced at the sound and saw that Five had abruptly stopped and was now faced towards me.

His features were filled with distaste while watching my figure that was sprawled out over his chair, but quickly softened as he addressed his dear wife.

"I think I've got something, Delores."

"And what's that?" I responded, my annoyance clear.

"I wasn't talking to you." Five turned to face his chalkboard of a wall again, circling what looked to be a group of names.

"Yes, you made that very clear," I rolled my eyes and readjusted my position on the chair. "but I thought that since you dragged me into your mess without my consent and expect us to work together, I'd know what the fuck you've been doing for the last hour."

An agitated sigh escaped his lips as the boy bit his tongue to stop himself from releasing a colourful collection of curses. Things had to remain civil at the least if he wanted to make some progress. Even if it meant sacrificing his pride, he would endure the annoyance and pain I’d constantly bring him.

The boys mouth opened to finally give me even the slightest bit of information, only for the door to burst open to reveal Luther strolling in, his face contorted in confusion once his gaze met the equations sprawled out on his brothers room.

"What's all this?"

"It's a probability map."

"Probability of what?"

"Of who's death could save the world."

If the brothers noticed my sudden jolt on interest and the way my head snapped towards them, they didn't comment. I was quick to suck in a deep breath to stop the corners of my lips from tugging upwards a bit too much.

"I've narrowed it down to four."

"Are you saying one of these people cause the apocalypse?"

"No, I'm saying their death might prevent it." Five responded, his eyes drifting to his brother's before landing on mine, lingering for a little too long. A faint alarm began to ring in my mind at the assassins brief but significant extended glance. There was something hidden deep behind the sea of green in his eyes.

Suspicion.

Four names. Four possibilities. All I needed was four minutes- less even. The key to end the cycle of murder, fear and pain I've been trapped in my whole life was right in front of me. The chalk written names were practically taunting me, begging me to kill the two brothers standing with their backs turned to me like cattle moments away from being slaughtered.

All I'd need is four minutes. But I knew it was too soon and too risky. I had to wait a little longer, make Jasper wait a little longer.

Just a few minutes longer.

"Oh." Luther paused. "I still don't get it."

Five turned to his brother and fiddled with the chalk between his fingers. He was excited, clearly. Excited and relieved that he had found a possible answer to the problem he had been forced to endure all throughout his life, forced to endure the everlasting consequences he couldn't even begin to imagine before he made that fateful jump. He also needed a few minutes longer until his suffering was over.

I couldn't wait to see the look of total despair on his face once he realises that his efforts were for nothing.

"Time is fickle, Luther. The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum. The butterfly effect." This, Luther seemed to understand.

"So all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the time line, wherever they may be, and kill them." The boy finally explained, expelling some of the tension within him.

I made my way to the wall and onto Five's bed, standing on top as I memorised each name imprinted on the wall.

Milton Green. Aleks Cameron. KC Chavez. Robert Palko.

"Milton Green," The name left my mouth in a low murmur. "That's the person you found most likely?"

"Is he a terrorist or something, Five?"

Said brother looked up and squinted his eyes as he tried to read the names off of his wall. He began to quickly scrawl the names into his notebook before stating, "I believe he is a gardener."

"A murderous gardener." I added, quick to notice the shock pull at his face.

I jumped off the bed and pulled on the long jumper that hung behind my previous seat, shooting an innocent smile at the man.

"Wait, this is madness, Five-" Luther extended his arms in bewilderment as his voice began to increase in volume from the shock of the situation presented before him. He span to face me, pointing an accusatory finger at my figure. "You--"

However his attention was stolen away from me and to his brother pulling out a large case from under his bed containing a rifle.

"Feeling nostalgic, aren't we?" My mouth tilted into an lopsided grin, one I knew the boy beside me despised.

Betraying the composed attitude he had tried to maintain for all 24 hours, Five twisted his neck to face me, a tight lipped smile gracing his lips. "If I was really feeling nostalgic then I'd do what I did in Copenhagen." His hands delicately removed the rifle from its case, the weapon sitting perfectly in his calloused hands while his eyes shifted to mine like they did before.

"It seems that you've forgotten what I did in retaliation to your... bold actions."

"Oh," Five chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he looked through the rifles scope. "How could I forget?"

An unwelcome voice tore through the tense atmosphere, the bubbles of anger brewing beneath Five and I's skin being directed to his brothers sputtering.

"But you guys can't- This guy Milton is just an innocent man."

"It's basic math." Five cut him off abruptly. "His death could potentially save the lives of billions. If I did nothing he'd be dead in four days anyway. The apocalypse won't spare anyone."

"We don't do this kind of thing."

"We are not doing anything." His words came out in a drawl, his tone forming into one someone would use when dumbing something down for a child.

A breathy exhale left my lungs and my lips pressed together tightly. I could practically feel the precious time that could've been used quickly slip through my fingers as the two Hargreeves continued bickering as if they had all the time in the world.

"I can't let you go and kill innocent people. No matter how many lives you'll save."

"You're serious?" My face twisted to display an expression that practically reeked in distaste for the man in front of me. "How do you know their innocent?"

Luther snapped his neck towards me, "How do you know their guilty?"

My eyes shifted towards Five for a second, noticing he was looking at me with the same baffled look in his eyes, before I turned back to the man that stood at over 6-feet.

"You're serious?" I deadpanned. "How thick is that skull of yours? Have you not been listening to a single word said? Do you have some sort of mental condition that I should take into consideration?" The questions that easily rolled off my tongue seemed to cause the mans brain to short-circuit at the sudden verbal attack he couldn't tell was sarcasm or not.

His mouth opened and closed, mirroring a goldfish stranded out on land. While his lips faltered to utter a word as his voice lodged in his throat, his determination and false assumption that we would consider listen to him because he was dubbed, 'number one' as a child seemed to be stronger than the shock and spike at his ego.

The click of Five's tongue against the roof of his mouth rang across the room. "That seems to be our cue." He uttered between gritted teeth and his eyes flickered to mine with a small, reluctant nod of his head.

Having to rely on his siblings usually took a toll on the boy's pride and ego. I couldn't imagine the annoyance brimming in his tiny body having to trust me of all people. The thought brought a faint smile to my lips.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Oh for fucks sake--" An embarrassing squeal tore from the depths of my vocal chords as I was suddenly grabbed by the back of my collar by a large hand, and swung across and out of the room, dangling from outside a window.

I looked down, a wave of deja-vu washing over me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screeched, looking up at the man that nonchalantly gripped my collar with a few fingers, unbothered by the predicament I was in.

If I was asked who the last person I'd trust with my life would be, I'd pick the asshat taunting me with sudden death by heights. And coming from someone who was a field agent for The Commission, that was something I'd never thought I'd consider.

To think that my partner of sorts would come to my aid was a stupid thought I wish I didn't have. The second my head span to look inside the room, expecting the boy to pull out his rifle in retaliation, my brows furrowed and forehead creased to see him do absolutely nothing.

"You asshole!" I seethed, my skin burning from the raw rage coursing through my veins. "What the fuck do you think you're doing standing there? Tell you're gorilla of a brother to put me down!"

An awkward silence stuffed the already small room as Luther and I watched Five carefully for his reaction. Apart from the brief tensing of the jaw, an annoyed sigh, and the shuffling of the weapon in his hands, the assassin remained unbothered, planted to his spot as he watched the scene before him unfold. The only emotion in his stiff face being the upwards twitch of his lips in amusement.

My lips parted and eyes narrowed in a mixture of irritation and shock, Luther's face creasing into a similar expression.

"Wait, you're seriously not gonna do anything?" The bewilderment in Luther's voice seemed to go into Five's ear and out the other. The man looked down towards my dangling figure, embarrassment burning through him as his face flushed red. However once he turned back to face his brother, a certain mannequin caught his eye and another lightbulb lit in his brain.

He reached over to his side and grabbed Delores, who was sitting peacefully on a chair, and with his free arm dangled the plastic doll out of the window beside me.

The sight of Five's wife being manhandled across the room and threatened with the possibility of being dropped several metres onto the concrete pavement, seemed to cause something to snap within him.

In a spilt second, the rifle was held tightly between the boys fingers and aimed directly at Luther's head, his face pulled into a sneer with his jaw clenched dangerously tight.

"Put... her... down." His voice came out in deep, measured breaths, using all the strength he could muster not to pull the trigger while eyeing his brother through the scope.

"Put the gun down," The blond watched Five cautiously, subconsciously tightening his grip on my collar. "You're not killing anyone."

If someone had told me that Five's face could tense more than it is now, I would've simply laughed in their face. A short, exasperated burst of a laugh left my lips at the sight of the veins pushing beneath Five's pale skin so tightly that I wouldn't be surprised if they'd burst any time soon. All because of a plastic torso with a head.

While here I was, being threatened with death, not even wanting to be here in the first place.

"I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this." Luther spoke, testing to see how is brother would react at the words carefully rolling off his tongue. His voice dropped an octave, trying to make sure things remained civil. "It's either her or the gun."

I shook my head, blood boiling beneath my skin, knowing very well the man was referring to the plastic doll next to me.

Five adjusted his stance and grip on the gun. His body twitched and grip trembled as he fought the war taking place inside him. His tongue darted out to hastily lick his lips before getting back to grinding his teeth.

In any other situation, I'd think he was experiencing paradox psychosis.

"You decide."

For a moment, I thought Five was going to give in to his brothers words, with the way the pistol faltered from its aim and his breathing seemed to steady.

But then I remembered. I was dealing with Five Hargreeves.

My eyes snapped open from their tired slant once I felt Luther grab a larger fistful of the fabric of my clothes, before easily throwing me out of the window as if it were some sort of second nature.

A surprised, "Shit." was all I was able to say. An odd wave of numbness washed over me, contradicting the uneasiness that churned in my stomach as my body hung mid-air for a brief moment. I quickly contemplated all my life decisions that brought me here. Here in the spectacular scene of being discarded like trash into a dumpster by none other than Luther-fucking-Hargreeves.

My eyes made contact with a flash of blue swallowing the mannequin that was thrown beside me, whole. I rolled my eyes back at the ridiculousness playing out in front of me.

Of course the idiot was going to save his non-sentient wife over the person he kidnapped, drugged and practically forced by his side to save the world.

Wind rushed against my body falling through the polluted city air, and the thought of using a familiar... asset of mine to save myself was only proving to be more reliable than betting on the idea that the assassin might just save me from my impending doom.

I flexed my hands, my body tingling as the sensation began to course through my veins. My ears drowned out the rush of wind and focussed on the incomprehensible voices clawing at my skull for even a second of attention.

In a few seconds, I was going to reveal my greatest strength and greatest weakness all at once.

'At last--'

A shocked gasp left my lips at the feeling of a pair of hands digging tightly into my waist, and a sudden disorientation flooding my mind and body. Instead of making contact with the harsh concrete awaiting my fall, I found myself standing in the middle of Five's bedroom as if nothing had happened.

I looked down at my feet and back up again, making eye contact with the two brothers staring at me. One with a look of cautiousness and regret, whilst the other scoffed in amusement at my dishevelled hair and rapidly blinking eyes.

"You look constipated." Five said, in a matter-of-fact tone. Quicker than I could re-assemble my thoughts, he roughly grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled my towards him as we left the room and travelled through the houses myriad of corridors.

Before the boy could manhandle me any more, I stopped in my tracks and shoved his iron-clad grip off of my shoulder.

"What are you doing--!"

I cut him off, barely able to contain the irritation with the male standing in front of me. "No," I forced out a laugh. "What the fuck are you doing, Five?" I shoved my index finger against his forehead and watched his eyes widen in anger.

"The apocalypse is in two fucking days and you've done absolutely nothing. We are nowhere closer to saving this damned world and the fucking Handler is breathing down our necks, ready to send more agents our way." I seethed between clenched teeth. "So tell me," I licked my cracked lips, "what on earth does that smooth brain of yours plan to do now?"

"What I plan to do next?" Five shook his head and scoffed. "No no, the real question is what do you plan to do next." He pulled his finger back and flicked it against my forehead in retaliation. "You think I don't know you?" He began, his biting tone accompanying the cruel grin stretched on his lips.

“You think I don’t see through your whole act? Well news flash, I fucking do.” He enunciated each word, jabbing his finger with every syllable. “I don’t know what your hiding or what you’re planning, but once I find out, I’ll do to you what I plan to do to that apocalypse-starting gardener I’m just itching to get my hands on.”

The bustling and muted voice of Luther upstairs caused the boy to scoff as his brother called out our names.

Five pressed his lips into a thin line as he proceeded to look me dead in the eyes, his cold gaze attempting to find any cracks in the barriers caging my emotions from spilling into the open. No matter how heated things would get, the boy knew nothing more of what rummaged in my mind other than the obvious irritation and hatred towards him.

It angered Five to no extent.

He struggled to find what exactly fazed me, struggled to see past the anger he already knew too well, and into the malicious thoughts he was certain crept with full intent in the back of my mind, ready to strike.

When confronted with the emptiness of my eyes he felt more vulnerable than ever. Because in Five’s experience, not knowing is worse than death could ever be.

Even now, he watched as I bit down on my tongue and the slight bulge on my veins with slight curiosity for as to what lurked beneath the restraints I kept in place.

But he was certain he was going to find out. One way or another, he was going to find his leverage and gain the control he longed to hold.

Alas for now, he was stuck with the ever-growing pit of anxiety digging deeper in his stomach.

Heavy stomps creaking with every step tore Fives attention from the depths of his thoughts and to his brother who was hastily walking towards us, somewhat relieved that we hadn’t left yet.

“So…” My lips ticked downwards at Luther’s constant unwelcome intrusions. “Where are we heading off too?”

------

I took my seat in Five's car, drowning out the faint pulsing of pain from my shoulder and instead focussed on Luther's burning stares against my temple. I turned my neck and watched as he reluctantly took residence in the back, the van creaking from his sudden weight.

"You didn't answer my question--"

Five slammed his foot against the pedal, the vehicle suddenly accelerating forwards with a harsh BOOM thudding from what sounded to be Luther falling back against the floor, or his skull cracking open.

Hopefully the latter.

I shifted my concentration to the driver, not sure whether to be concerned or not at his reckless driving. With every red light in our way, Five only increased the cars speed, just barely evading a fatal collision. Confident he was trying to get us killed, I swiftly put my seatbelt on and eyed the boy carefully as if he'd burst beneath the pressure of my gaze.

"I'm pretty sure you just sped past a bunch of police trucks..." Luther’s murmurs went unheard beneath the faint sirens and wind rushing harshly against the vehicle. I could practically feel the man’s blood pressure rise with every second he stayed in the car.

Finally the car began to slow down as we drove into a secluded area a few miles from the city. With furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, I looked ahead, the only thing meeting my stare being the countless acres of land isolating us from the rest of society.

That's when a very possible thought etched its way into my mind. It was more than likely that Five Hargreeves was going to kill me, and the only reason he brought Luther was to keep me restrained so he could do his biddings more efficiently. As if confirming my thoughts, the van suddenly stopped, the tires screeching against the concrete roads at the abruptness of Five's foot stamping on the breaks.

No one dared to move an inch of a muscle or let out even the slightest of sounds. Breaking the tense atmosphere, Five sighed inwardly.

"Out." Five said, almost boredly.

"What?" I spat in response.

This time he turned to face me entirely. "Out," He repeated. "now."

I started at him and his unwavering expression. So I was right, he really was going to kill me. The only thing left was for me to figure out was how he intended to do so. I scoffed at the thought of him running me over, but nevertheless did as I was oh- so nicely told. My lips twisted into a sneer as I gave him a final glare, getting out of the car with an aggressive slam of the door, and marched ahead while digging my hands furiously into the oversized, grey zip up sweater I had found back in Diego's 'apartment'.

I span on my heels to face the duo talking in the car and froze at the sight of a briefcase sitting between the brothers.

Now it was clearer than ever what the assassin was trying to do.

On cue, the rev of an engine announcing one of the most infamous duos of the Commission, tore through the solitude of the countryside, signalling Five and Luther to exit the car, the case securely held in Luthers hand.

I bit down on my lip, hard. The metallic taste of blood helping to prevent myself from slapping five across the face and stealing the case for myself. Nevertheless, I locked these impulses deep within me as the brothers stood beside me, collectively watching their vehicle come to a stop several metres behind us.

"If this all goes sideways, do me a favour and tell Delores I'm sorry."

I held back a snort and rolled my eyes which seemed to catch Five's attention immediately. Hazel and Cha Cha finally left the car and walked towards us, Five and I doing the same until we were only a few steps apart.

“Are the masks really necessary?”

The duo gave the other a glance before stripping the sweaty plastic from their faces. Cha Cha's eyes shifted to Five, than me, and back to the boy. "So, where is it, kid?"

"Wow, that's how you're gonna start. You know, we can get right back in our car and call it a day."

A gun was quickly in her hands as she threatened, "You won't even make it halfway there."

"Maybe." Five maintained his composure. "But as I'm sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant."

"He's right." Hazel turned to Cha Cha. "You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up."

"By the time you took him out, he'd smash your precious briefcase to a pulp."

"Probably us too, right?" Hazel confronted. "So how do we help each other?"

"I need you to get in contact with your superior so I can have a chat with her."

I physically tensed, my jaw clenching and mouth going dry upon hearing that soon, I'd have to explain to The Handler as to why I hadn't updated her on Five's progress for hours.

"About what?"

"I don't believe that's any if your concern." Five's voice was calm, too calm, only further fuelling the anxiety practically crawling up my throat and burning through my chest.

Cha Cha scoffed. "Oh really? Well you still haven't told us who this one is." She now pointed the silver gun at my figure, her eyes scanning my body and my face intensely, only for them to flicker in recognition.

"Look at that." She cocked her head to the side. "Well if it isn't the Commissions prized bloodhound." Her lips twisted downwards in distaste and her voice dripped in anger. "I still haven't forgotten what you did in Cairo."

I smiled a toothy grin. "Neither have I."

"So is it a deal or what?" Five quickly cut in, not forgetting to shoot me a glare.

The woman licked her lips, annoyed. "Just don't tell her about the briefcase."

"Fair enough."

With the final words exchanged closing the deal between the agents, Hazel and Cha Cha walked towards the payphone as Five and I retreated ourselves, taking measured steps away from the pair.

"What the hell was that?" Five seethed, keeping his voice low. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

I rolled my eyes and proceeded to walk towards Luther who was holding the briefcase a little too tightly for my liking. We watched as Cha Cha began dialling a number, peering over her shoulder towards us, along with Hazel's finger hovering above the trigger as a warning.

"What happens now?" Luther kept his eyes glued on the enemy ahead.

"Now we wait."

Anxiety swarmed through my body, invading the sane piece of mind I desperately tried to hold. I cracked my knuckles and gnawed down on my lip while my foot tapped impatiently against the road. Sure it was only a few seconds of waiting idly. But those few seconds stretched out into hours as the same thought consumed my brain, like a python unhinging its jaw and swallowing its prey whole.

The words, 'What if' rang in my skull like a mantra. And they were right to do so, because right now, just like she had my whole life, The Handler held all the cards and was just waiting to play her next move.

A quiet ring of a lullaby pulled me out of the depths of my thoughts, leaving me as confused as the rest. I turned my head towards the direction everyone was looking, surprised to see an ice cream truck of all things approach us at high speeds, the lullaby getting louder by the second.

"Is that her?"

The ice cream truck zoomed right past us and Luther immediately got his answer. In the truck sat a waving Klaus who looked excited to be here, and Diego whose expression turned from blank, to shocked as he saw his lost hoodie draping over my figure.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Five asked, our necks turning simultaneously to watch the truck start to accelerate as they approached the agents.

"It's a set up!" The duo aimed their guns at us and began shooting, a bullet just grazing my side. Five and I dove behind Luther just in time, said brother lifting his arms and shielding us with his body.

"What the hell was that!" I whisper-yelled.

Five glanced at me, then to my injured shoulder for split second before he groaned in frustration. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Well they're your brothers, aren't they?"

His lips parted to retort with his own response, only for an eerily familiar feeling to wash over us. One that still made a shiver run up my spine to this day.

I stepped out beside Luther, peering at his body frozen in time. I looked at Five and gave him a knowing look, a look that seemed to summon the devil herself.

"Neat trick isn't it?" A woman's voice spoke softly, juxtaposing the way the hairs on my nape stood while adrenaline coursed through my body. It seemed that my gut was leaning more towards flight than fight, but I stood my ground and faced the woman, glaring deep into her eyes hidden beneath her shades.

If Five could hear the way my heart was pumping loudly beneath my veins, he didn't say. The Handler removed her sunglasses and smiled.

"Hello, Five," Her eyes then shifted to mine, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in an emotion I couldn't quite make out. But something within me screamed to steal the briefcase out of Luther’s frozen hold, warning me of the dangers beneath the blue glaciers of her eyes that seemed to be getting closer and closer to puncturing through my well seamed coat of armour I’ve been hiding under my whole life.

I knew I’d regret not giving into my gut instincts but for now, I kept my feet planted in place and fists clenched.

The Handler knew she had won right then and there, and for once, the woman’s smile reached her eyes.

"Hello, Y/n."

I could feel the taste of failure slowly start to creep on my tongue, attempting to scorch any schemes present into ash.

But I knew all too well that the war had just begun, and almost feared the extents I would go to accomplish what I was here for in the first place.

Tag List for Whispers 🏷

Comment if you’d like to be included.

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[jeanniebug623]

🕸️🕷️ Weaving the Web 🕷️🕸️

Chapter 20: Repetition, Repetition, Repetition

“I’m gonna kill him...” whispered a very anxious Spider as Quaritch packed him a rucksack for his first unchaperoned stay with Nash McCosker. The recom looked at the boy on the other end of the couch, leaning forward with his arms on his knees as his leg bounced nervously under it. He was trying to ground himself with a new focus technique advised by Ja and made better by Quaritch. Ja suggested something rhythmic like counting; Quaritch suggested tracing the blue stripes on his arms. 

“You got this, tiger.” Quaritch said firmly. But the truth was, his insides were as unstable as not fully set jelly. He watched Spider trace over the swirls and patterns they’d painted on his arms the day before. There were so many that both forearms were more blue than his normal skin tone, which had become notably paler as he’d spent almost a month now inside as they worked on his therapy. 

And by ‘therapy’, it was all trial and error. Spider had been put through a fast-tracked slew of medications to see what might help his condition. Antianxiety, antidepressants, antipsychotics...anything and everything that was ‘anti’ enough to reduce overactivity of his brain. Some made him sick. Others made him hyper. One combination didn't just make Miles rear his violent self, but it was days before Spider came back. 

“Which ones do you take in the morning?” Quaritch asked, watching Spider trace the patterns on his arms. He wanted to stimulate his boy’s brain in a different way. As unpleasant as the efforts to figure out a passable regimen of medications, Spider was more than willing to do it. He hated Nash and so did Quaritch, but it would serve neither of them if something did happen to the prick. 

“Um...” Spider said, cursing under his breath. Was it two of the blue ones? Were those antianxiety or antipsychotics? He definitely had to take one of those giant white ones three times a day. Maybe that one was for anxiety. He sighed and covered his face with his hands, his knee still bouncing away. 

“Come on, son, you know this.” Quaritch said with an encouraging tone and nod. It was incredibly difficult not to walk over and scoop up his boy until the panic passed. To say he could say ‘to hell with the general’ again and not be sent out on another surveillance mission for five days. As far as they knew, none of his meds were causing the restless leg so this was all new nervous behavior that had developed the last few weeks. 

“Two...no. It’s only one of the blue ones. One of the big white ones and two of the pinkish ones?” Spider said, looking at Quaritch with a look like he’d just flunked a test. 

“That’s right.” Quaritch said, smiling at Spider’s success but mentally sucker punching himself for being the reason the kid was a walking pharmacy, “Atta boy. 1200?” 

Spider sighed annoyed, but it was the situation and Quaritch knew it. He traced some squiggly lines down his left forearm and answered, “Big white one, half a blue one, small white one.” 

“Good. 1500?” the colonel continued, noticing the change in tone Spider answered to be more confident. 

The teen paused and looked at the recom, “I don’t...I don’t take anything at 1500. Other half of the blue one at 1700...if I need it.” 

“Good boy.” Quaritch said with a raised brow, “You caught me. 2100?” 

A small smile snuck its way onto the nervous teen’s face. He appreciated the effort to make him feel better, but what could make him feel better knowing he was going to be staying with Nash McCosker while Quaritch and the recoms were out in the field? There were a lot of things Spider didn’t like about the situation. While he should be more worried about the recoms hurting the Na’vi, he was more worried about Quaritch leaving him. 

Things had sucked lately but Koaktan had been there for him through all of it. The meds that didn’t work and made him sick. He was there when he came to in a strait jacket and padded cell after that motherfucker alter of his almost got McCosker again at the first attempted reunion. And then the second attempt. Followed by the third.... 

It took eight tests before Spider could be in the same room as his former foster father without Miles taking over and trying to finish what he started. It didn't exactly have good results, but it was enough for the general as she had ordered the recoms to head out on their next mission. That call was made less than forty-eight hours ago... 

Quaritch waited for the answer to his last question about Spider’s medication schedule. His ears went back when he didn’t get an answer and it was at least two minutes of just silently watching the boy trace and retrace the same spiral the whole time. He cleared his throat and walked over to crouch in front of the boy. The teen’s eyes darted up as he jumped slightly, like the recom had just appeared out of thin. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Spider stammered quickly, “What’s the question?” 

The colonel slowly lowered one hand in a calming gesture and spoke softly, “At 2100, you take one of those big ass horse pills and the green gel-filled one.” 

“For sleep.” Spider said with a nod. He was going to need that one... 

“That’s right, Spider, good memory. I put it all down in your tablet if you forget.” Quaritch said, his tail curling preemptively in frustration for what he said next, “Let’s get you over to McCosker’s.” 

Spider let out a quiet sigh as Quaritch patted his head gently and they made the way from the military wing to the civilian residences. He looked around as he stuck close to the colonel, using every ounce of his teenage pride to not grab onto the recom’s arm and trail behind like a little kid. It felt like they’d walked into a completely different world. The halls were less like the gears of a well-oiled machine and more appealing as far as structure and decor. 

When they reached McCosker’s lavish new apartment, both Quaritch and Spider knew it was way above his paygrade and trust factor, so Ardmore clearly pulled some strings. Wainfleet was already there, ears back and tip of his tail flipping a bit. He gave the kid a big smile and a sharp nod to the colonel, indicating he’d already swept the place for anything amiss. 

“Damn, Spider-Man, you’re gonna be king of the castle.” Wainfleet said. 

“I’d rather be in a marui...” Spider said, unable to match Wainfleet’s efforts. But, like Quaritch, he appreciated the effort and returned the fist bump. 

“Quaritch.” McCosker said firmly, clearly not intent to refer to him by his military title anymore. 

“McCosker.” Quaritch returned in a flat tone. 

“Spider.” McCosker said, turning his attention to the teen between the two recoms. 

“...” Spider said nothing, just stared at the man who’s broken orbital bone was healing and the bruising finally faded. Quaritch and Wainfleet exchanged a quick look before both looking down at the kid as he stared at the man formerly known as his guardian without so much of a blink. 

“Spider.” Quaritch said, his nerves prickling with fear his boy was about to spend the next five days in solitary while he was out chasing down rumors of hostile gatherings near the old Omatikaya Hometree. Before he could put his hand on the teen’s shoulder, they were all relieved when he spoke again. 

“...I don’t know what to call you...” Spider grumbled, not hiding his disdain for the arrangement. 

“Uh, Nash is fine...” McCosker said, hiding the fact that he was the most relieved that it wasn’t Miles again. 

“Yea...last time I did that, you beat my ass black and blue...” Spider huffed angrily under his breath before walking past McCosker with an eye roll. What he said did not go unnoticed, but the man opted to follow the boy into the apartment instead of make eye contact with Quaritch. “Which room is mine?” 

“One on the right, I figured you’d want the one with more windows...” McCosker’s words trailed off as Spider went into the bedroom on the right side of the open living room and slammed the door shut. He went over to the door and attempted to open the door only to find it locked. “Mi-...Spider.” 

“Teenagers, right?” Quaritch said before McCosker’s blood pressure could start to rise. The man turned around to see the recom had followed them in with Spider’s rucksack in one hand. He eyed the man like a predator stalking prey as he walked over and knocked on the door. “Spider, I’m leaving your bag out here. Get it when you want.” 

McCosker watched the recom place the bag in front of the door and turn to walk away. He sighed and abandoned the teen’s bedroom door to walk the recom out, “Anything else I should know?” 

“Nah, he knows how to take care of himself.” Quaritch answered, knowing it would be better to just rip the Band-Aid off and leave versus getting emotional and making him leaving harder on both of them. “Just make sure he eats.” 

“Not a problem, I cooked for those boys for years. He always liked my Cajun brisket.” McCosker said. Like providing food for a child made him father of the year. But the attempt he made to seem like he was going to take care of Spider the way he needed to be was quickly countered. 

“No...” Spider said, annoyed and glaring from the door as he silently opened it to retrieve his rucksack. He had intended to do it unnoticed but wanted to set the record straight. “That was Henry...you know, your real son. Not the stand-in until you managed to knock up your wife...” 

McCosker’s face turned red as Spider closed the door. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, Quaritch was just satisfied his boy just made a snarky remark instead of going into full psycho mode. 

“Like I said...teenagers.” Quaritch repeated with a shrug then remarked, “Spider doesn’t like spicy food. Listen up, McCosker. If the boy stays in there for the next five days? We’ll call it mission successful. Just make sure he eats.” 

“Mission success?” McCosker asked, “I’m trying to make it up to the kid for all the shit I put him through.” 

Quaritch’s ears flattened; he didn’t believe that for a second. But he wasn’t in a position to call the bluff. 

“The best thing you can do for Spider is leave him alone.” Quaritch said quietly, “He’s not the one who cares about the past. It’s the other one...” 

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

With Words that Play Funny (In my Heart)

Pairing: Yandere! Risotto x reader

Prompt: “No, sorry, you laughed. I … I've never seen it before. It’s — pretty.”

Description: You wake up with some of the worst cramps you can ever remember having in your adult life. You aren't in the mood to deal with them, or Risotto for that matter. However, your change your mind every so slightly when you realize something... What made Risotto go out of his way for you like that?

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: afab reader, mentions of blood and periods and the products people use for those, listen we been knew all along this was a vent piece for sydney, ask to tag but this particular chapter is pretty cute and sweet

Word Count: 3561

Notes: Taken from this prompt list! It’s been so long I’ve had this sitting in my drafts I legit don’t know what prompt list I got this from.

 I wanted something a little softer for them this time around... As always, I don't know where I'm going with this and when I will update but I am constantly thinking about these two. Shaking them around like an unfortunate goldfish in a bag.

Also what if you were working on a different, completely unrelated yandere Risotto piece and you decided the best way to exercise your brain and work past whats stopping you in the first its not sfw bits is to start a completely new wip. like what would you do. It’s also been so long that I’ve had this wip the other Risotto fic got posted like. 2 months ago at least. That’s how it’s going guys!

Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five

You didn’t really remember when you fell asleep last night. Frankly, at this moment it was hard to remember anything that had happened last night—you were face with some of the worse cramps you had gotten in your adult life.

“No, I don’t want this…” You groan as you slowly sit up, holding your stomach. You look around, vaguely remembering Risotto had returned last night. But you don’t see any sign of him, at least not in this room.

A bleary look at the digital clock shows it reads 11:43 am. You can’t help but rub your eyes and let out another noise of discomfort. “...Hey Glory,” You clear your throat a little after speaking. Your ever dutiful stand appears before the bed, looking down at your disheveled form. “I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about cramps, is there?” You look to her as a yawn passes your lips.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do to dull the pain.” Like that, she dashes your hopes. “Your pain is caused by a necessary bodily function, and it would do you more harm if I stopped this process.”

“As much as that makes since, that sucks.” You let out a sigh, flopping back on the bed. As you do so, you hear the door to the room creep open.

“...You’re awake.” Risotto doesn’t seemed surprised that you’re talking to your stand.

“I don’t want to deal with you right now.” You huff and turn away from Risotto. As you do so, however, you groan again. “...Are you feeling okay though?” You can’t help but frown as you speak the words. You tell yourself you’re only worried because you want to know the lasting effects of Glories healing.

“You should only be feeling minor aches and pains in the area that we healed.” Glory supplies.

“I’m doing okay. Better than usual, even.” You huff at his words, and curl into yourself more in an attempt to relieve your cramps. Soon enough you would have to get up and do something about it, though. “You… don’t look well.” You can hear something akin to worry in his voice. The bed dips on the opposite side and you feel him reach over.

“Don’t touch me.” You say first. His hand stops by your head-- he was likely going to check your temperature. “I’m not sick. I just…” You look over your shoulder at him. Risotto is frowning softly, white hair framing red eyes that only show worry. “I just… started my period is all. My stand can’t do anything to help the pain…” You mutter your words until your quiet once more.

“I see…” Risotto backs up from you, but you can still feel his weight on the bed. “Can I help in any way?” You can feel the weight of his gaze on you. With another heavy heaved breath, you sit up and face him.

“You could leave me alone.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly. You feel an odd combination of smug and sad, but don’t dwell on it too hard. “…Actually. You don’t have like, tampons, do you?” You frown and find you can’t really meet his gaze. You weren’t really embarrassed about having your period, more so that it was awkward that you had to talk to Risotto about getting the stuff you needed.

“…I suppose I did forget some things.” You glance the corner of his lips rising in mirth.

“Well. I need to shower so like… can you go and get me some? And maybe like, some pads and midol too?” You barely meet his gaze. You feel a little humiliated, having to ask the man who kidnapped you for such basic necessities but you also had hope that Risotto would be civil about this. He had to be, right?

“As much as I would like to tease you… I’ll consider it payback for you healing me last night.” You can’t help but sigh in relief.

“Right. Thank you…” You bite your lip awkwardly. Should you even be thanking him for something you needed? “I’m uh… yeah.” You stood quickly from the bed, moving over to the dresser. You quickly pull out some clothing that was comfortable and made way to the bathroom.

You give Risotto one last look as you step into the bathroom. Once again, his face is unreadable. You can’t help but sigh as you close the door and lean against it. You wanted Risotto to trust you, of course, so you could find a way out… but at the same time it was so hard to put your guard down. It was hard to act any semblance of normal around him. Whether it was because of the situation you found yourself in, your own awkwardness, or simply how Risotto choose to act you knew not but you wished you didn’t to play these stupid social games.

You go to a small cabinet in the bathroom where Risotto keeps the towels. You don’t really feel like showering but that was the depression speaking, you supposed. You felt gross and perhaps the warm water would help with your thoughts and cramps.

Opening the cabinet, you can’t help but notice that above the shelf where the towels were… there were tampons. Unopened and sitting innocently with other toiletries. It made you pause a moment.

“Did he… leave because I asked him to?” You peak outside the bathroom door, finding the bed room empty. Walking over to the bedroom door, you can confirm that the apartment is empty as well.

“He really… left because I asked him to.” You frown as you make way to the bathroom, closing the door once more as you slowly go about getting ready for your shower. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was odd thinking he listened not because it was something you needed but… he wanted to make you happy.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” You groan again as another painful pang shoots through you, and start up the shower to let it warm up. You set about getting undressed and stepping into the, by now, familiar shower. Warm water washed away some of the pain, and any of the dirty feeling you felt but not the strange feelings going through you.

You weren’t even that mean to Risotto, all things considered. So why would you feel bad…?

It didn’t matter, your strange sense of guilt could be ignored. When he returned, this would be your first time alone with Risotto is a somewhat normal situation. No stands to test, no wounds to heal, nothing to keep the two of apart. How would this go?

All too soon, you have to leave the welcoming warmth of the water and towel off. You get dressed and… decide you could humor Risotto. It wouldn’t hurt to make him feel useful, would it? Certainly not. It could only do good things for you, after all.

As you step into the bedroom you can hear though the walls the sounds of bag being placed on the table. Had you taken that long in the shower…? Regardless, you step out into the living area slowly, pushing wet hair from your face to properly watch as Risotto places two bags on the table.

“You’re back…” Your words are quiet as you make careful steps towards him. It’s hard to find what to say, or what to do. You spy what you had asked for in one of the bags-- tampons and pads of a familiar brand, medicine to help with the cramps. In the other you saw something that couldn’t help but make you smile. It was an energy drink, the very same kind you had once tried to throw at Risotto. There were some candies and chocolates in there to.

“Um, thanks for getting me these things…” You take the bag with the toiletries in one hand. Risotto looks to you with a small smile. There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t really know how to decipher.

“A lot has happened since you’ve come here…” He looks down a moment, then back to you. “Since you’re not feeling well… I wanted to let you relax today. Even if you want to do it without me.” Your face softens as he slowly pulls the treats from the bag and places them on the table.

“That’s… really thoughtful of you, actually.” You can’t help but smile again watching as he pulls the energy drink out. “I didn’t think I would be allowed another one of those after I tried throwing one at you.” You can’t help but laugh as you say the words aloud. After all that had happened between the two of you, the idea of throwing one at him again just seemed hilarious. You think he might actually let him if it would keep you happy. Your giggle doesn’t stop immediately as you think about it some more.

It takes a moment for you to compose yourself and when you do, you find that Risotto is staring at you strangely. “Sorry I just--” You cut yourself off with another giggle fit. “Knowing what I know now…” You shake your head, ready to leave the room to compose yourself and take care of business but Risotto speaks, stopping you.

“No, sorry. I just--” he shakes his head. “You laughed. I’ve never seen it before. It’s,” He takes a moment, watching the smile fall from your lips to surprise. “It was pretty.” You’re silent as you let his words wash over you. Rather than let embarrassment flare on your cheeks, you instead escape to the bathroom quick as you can, heat flaring on your cheeks.

Alone, you say aloud. “He thinks it’s pretty…?” Not that you hated your laugh but… no one had ever called it pretty before. The idea that he liked it, that the sound of you laughing made him happy made you want to giggle more.

“What am I saying?” You frown and pull yourself together. This was Risotto you were talking about—Risotto, who had kidnapped you from your apartment, who had hurt you in order to see what your stand was. You were laughing at the pure absurdity of seeing an object you had tried to use to protect yourself in such a mundane setting!

With a final sigh, you clear your mind of it, instead taking the moment to actually use the things you needed for your period. All the while, still thinking of Risotto. He wanted you to relax today… but how could you do that with him around?

You take your few minutes in the bathroom, washing your hands and looking yourself in the mirror. You wonder if you were even the same person he had taken the week before? You looked… more tired, then the weeks before. Even freshly showered, you seemed… less yourself. The stress of being here was getting to you. As much as you would love to relax, would you even be able to?

You take careful footsteps out of the bathroom, and back to the bedroom door. Beyond there, Risotto waited. You suspected, neither of you really knew how to act normal around one another.

No one normal would resort to kidnapping someone they were interested in, after all.

Not like you knew how to actually act around someone you were interested in either, though. Had you met under different circumstances, you might be awkward around Risotto for all the right reasons. But here, against your will… You were struggling to find the right things to do or say.

Still, with a heavy sigh, you push open the door to the rest of the apartment. Risotto is not in the immediate area, instead he sits in the living room, the quiet noise of some old show playing. He turns your way when he hears the click of the door closing. He doesn’t speak at first, instead watching as you walk to the snacks innocently sat on the table.

“I didn’t think you would want to come out here.” His words are loud against the quiet of the apartment. You can’t help but frown as you pick up a pack of sour gummy worms, holding them gingerly as you look to him.

“I actually…” You pick at the corner of the package, playing with it as you run over the words in your mind. “You already had the stuff I needed before you even left the house. Why did you leave when you knew that?” You look to Risotto who turned around on the couch in order to face you. His face remains unreadable.

“...You seemed upset, so I wanted to make you happy. Even if it means you don’t want to see me.” You frown at his words, sitting backwards in a chair to face him.

“But… you want me to fall in love with you, don’t you?” You question him. “How does… that achieve your goal?” You fiddle with the ends of your hair, meeting his gaze after a moment of letting your words sink in. “I don’t get it. I don’t really get you, actually.” You admit.

“You don’t have to understand.” He shakes his head. “I want you to be happy here. I know I took you against your will. I know you still hold that against me.” You look away as he says that. “I can’t let you go, but there’s little ways I can make it better.” You’re silent as you think over his words.

“...Why did you have to do it this way?” The hurt in your voice is undeniable. “Couldn’t you have gone about this normally?”

“Tesoro…” Risotto stands from his position, moving towards you. When he stands close, looking down at you, he speaks again. “I… don’t live a normal life. There was no way I could date you normally or…” He hangs his head low.

“You know what,” You sigh and shake your head. “It doesn’t matter now.” You look up at him. “I don’t… I don’t want to live sheltered like this. I don’t want to be afraid of you.” As you meet his gaze, you aren’t sure what your looking for. “If… I try to give you a chance, will you, in turn, give me more freedom?” You can’t believe the words you’re saying.

“You… want to give me a chance?” Risotto seems surprised to hear you saying this.

“You’re intelligent enough to know I want out. I doubt I could fool you into thinking you’ve won my affections.” You admit. “And if that’s the case… nothing is going change unless one or both of us concedes.” The two of you watch one another a moment. Risotto, who was normally hard to read, had a pensive look on his face. You night dare to say he even looked… scared. Of what, you weren’t sure.

You, on the other hand, were nothing but nervous. Would he concede? How bad did he want you affection? “What… kind of freedoms do you want?” He asks slowly, red eyes watching your form with a subtle frown.

“I want…” You paused a moment, unsure. You didn’t expect to get this far (or that the man that kidnapped you would at all be reasonable, but he continued to surprise you). “Um… well, for starters, can I call my mom?” I ask him. “And… maybe leave the apartment?”

“That’s all you want?” He furrows his brows.

“Well… not really. But I’m trying to be…” You pause. “Little steps, you could call it.” Risotto nods.

“Well…” Risotto stands up from his position, moving to where you sat in the chair. Sitting with him standing before you, you can really appreciate how tall he is. “What do you suppose I would get in return for this?” He looks down at you, barest hint of a grin dancing on pretty lips.

“I think you can think of something of equal value…” I huff, rolling my eyes and looking away from him. “I already let you share a bed with me, after all.” At that, he lets out a little laugh. It makes you pause because… You, hadn’t really heard him laugh much either. It didn’t seem like he did often…

“Hm… I suppose you’re right.” He leans on the table beside you. “You can call your mother. With my supervision.” You look up at him, surprise dancing on your features. “As for leaving the apartment…” He frowns softly. “It makes me uncomfortable… but I’ll think on I it more.” You grinned at him now.

“Well… Maybe we could go out on some sort of… um…�� Your words die out as you realize what you were about to say. “We could go out on a date…?” You look to the tiled floor as you speak, color dusting your cheeks. “It can be whatever you want. I promise I won’t um. Do anything suspicious.” You laugh a little awkwardly at that, glancing up to meet his gaze.

If the idea interested Risotto, he doesn't let it show on his face, gaze trained on you and your reaction instead. “...We’ll see.” His words were soft. “It’s a lot to consider. But I won’t deny you a call to you mother… family is important.” There’s something faraway in his voice, in the look in his eyes.

“Thank you.” You don’t hesitate to speak the words, only for the irony of it to hit you. Still, you don’t regret them; not when a small smile makes way to Risotto’s lips. “Did you keep my phone?” You ask suddenly.

“I did, actually.” You light up at that. “You’ll…” He sighs. “It’s been off since… the night I took you.” Risotto doesn’t mince his words. “I understand if you don’t want to see the messages from your friends. If you’ll allow me, I’ll navigate to your mothers number and call her so you don’t have to see all that.”

“Oh…” You frown softly. You hadn’t even considered that. All the texts, discord messages and snapchats people must have been trying to send you... It sends a wave of sadness through you that you can’t hide, the sight causing Risotto to frown. “That might um, be for the best.” You wanted your friends and roommates to know you were alright too… but perhaps it was for the better they thought you up and just left them… You’d rather not think about it, actually.

“If that’s what you think” Risotto nods. “Would you like to call her now?” He asks.

“Um…” You sigh, shaking her head. “Let’s do it tomorrow. I’ve had enough emotionally charged conversations for one day.” You admit, resting your head on your folded arms.

“Of course.” You don’t notice as Risotto reaches for you, only to flinch as you feel his hand rest on your head.

“S-sorry!” You cry as he quickly retracts. “I’m just um, you know…” You say lamely, but it doesn’t clear the hurt from his face.

“I understand. I just…” He pauses as you grab his same hand with both your own.

“Listen… you can touch me. You just have to ask.” You blush as you bring his palm to your cheek, and hold it there until you can tell he does so of his own volition. “I said I would give a little to get a little so… I’ll try and um…” You pause as you try to think of the word, the boldness of your action and the warmth of his touch turning your thoughts into pleasant mush.

“Indulge me?” Risotto supplies, moving to be down on his knees so he was face to face with you.

“Yeah. Indulge.” Your struck by the softness of his gaze, the gentleness of his touch as he cradles your cheek.

“_____…” Your name is the sweetest sound coming from his lips.

“Hmm?” You close your eyes a moment. Maybe you could indulge in this moment too. Ignore the blush rising to your cheeks, the frog forming in your throat.

“I think I know what I want in exchange for that phone call.”

“Oh yeah?” You open you eyes. His look hasn’t changed one bit. If anything, he looks like he loves you more then the moment before.

You don’t doubt that, actually.

“Would one kiss be alight?” He asks it so simply, so sweetly. You could almost forget just who it was that wanted to press their lips against yours.

“...A kiss?” You repeat, closing your eyes.

You think about your mom. How a hug from her could probably fix a lot of things wrong with you right now. How her voice would comfort you in this strange new world you found yourself in.

“I suppose I should have expected that.” You don’t have to open your eyes to see the barest hint of a grin meet his lips. “Yes, I suppose that’s equal then.” You open your eyes to see him; large form on his knees before you. Gentle, calloused hands gently tilting your head opposite of his own.

This is it, this is really it. You close your eyes. Allow him to place a hand on your waist, and find yourself resting your unsure ones around his neck. You were going to kiss Risotto.

The man who loved you.

The man who kidnapped you.

...How long had it been since you kissed someone, anyways?

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 5.1

oh good he's not making us read a chapter from the point of view of the conspiracy theorist (yet)

... or i guess that could just be these extra materials

bleh. Interesting way of painting a picture of her though. Thinking about the true crime aspect of her video's, the "wouldn't it be great if there was something fucked up here" vibe

what's up with the animals? Not sure who would do that in Kennet, doesn't seem like how anyone's magic normally works. Goblins I guess? Nervous about the livestreaming, none of the Kennet Trio should have their faces out there, even just for mundane reasons

“Do you really think you’re going to stay awake longer than me?” Lucy asked.  “Every time you sleep over, you sleep in.” “‘Cause it’s cozy and low-stress.”

I wonder how Verona normally sleeps at home?

“I wouldn’t move if I could help it.  If it meant you could nap, I wouldn’t,” Verona said. She sounded so serious.

I'm not sure Lucy fully processes how much their friendship means to Verona? They're very close, and it means a lot to both of them, but for Lucy its best friend who she grew up beside, whereas for Verona it seems to have been the only good thing in her life for a while. Most of the time they're at normal levels of friendship, but every so often Verona will get serious and the intensity will skyrocket.

“What if I, like, became a cat, and stayed a cat for most of the time?” Verona asked.  She looked skyward, up at the stars.  “You could keep me around, and every day could be a bit like those days were.  And if you got sick of me, you could dump me on Avery?” “You might be at Avery’s a lot then,” Lucy joked. Verona looked at her, unsmiling, and in the gloom it took Lucy a second to see that Verona looked stung. No, not stung. Wounded.

yeah :( Lucy read this as joking around, but Verona was trying to casually bring up what she sees as her best possible future. Bringing up Avery here was I think mainly a way to not make too many demands on Lucy.

“And you being a full-time cat is the answer to that?” Lucy asked.  “I’m… I’m not connecting the thought.” “Throwing an idea out there,” Verona said, very quiet, almost inaudible. “You don’t really want the cat thing, do you?” Lucy asked. Verona was silent, staring up at the stars.

... she does. And Lucy is right now the biggest reason why she isn't going for it. Verona's been thinking about this for a few arcs, she's started research, and the stumbling point keeps being that Lucy wants them to grow up together. I don't know where this is going to go! I think they need to actually talk about this, because Lucy needs to see how serious Verona is about this, and Verona needs to explain her goals if she wants to keep being a part of Lucy's life as a potential cat. I don't think Lucy will approve of this, and I don't know if I agree with her or not. Regardless, from the book Verona read, it sounds like becoming an Other takes time and resources and decisions about what you want to become, so there's a delay built in to think it over. I think also Verona should spend more time away from home and more time at the school, to give her an idea of other futures she might be giving up.

“There’s a plan.  Maybe she has two girlfriends, not cheating or anything, but as an organized thing.  Or five.”

get it imaginary!Avery

“Cool.  Okay.  She’s athletic but I don’t think she’s five girlfriends athletic.” Verona laughed. “I didn’t mean that!” Lucy corrected.  She cleared her throat. 

don't worry Lucy, I parsed what you meant the first time through. Not surprised how Verona took it though

this sucks to say, but I don’t really feel like I know her.  I want to, but I’m not sure how

it just takes time, and they've only had a couple months

Verona ducked down, opened Lucy’s bag, and grabbed Lucy’s knife.  She held it by the leather sheath, then slapped the handle into Lucy’s hand.  Lucy pulled it free. “Booker’s torch,” she said. The forged blade ignited, gradually taking on a red heat.

oh that's sick. Lucy currently winning for aesthetic

“You’ve been doing the self-affirmation with glamour, right?” Lucy asked.

relieved to finally have confirmation the other two know about this

It was good, Lucy decided, that Verona wasn’t here, listening.  Verona… probably would have been on the same page, on a lot of those things.  Sympathizing to the point she stopped listening.

:[

Did Verona want out of that house that badly?  Was that it?  The quiet child and the domineering, self-indulgent tyrant? So badly she’d just give it all up? The chance of growing up together, graduating University together? Going through life milestones together? Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. She would. She might. She could.

they need to find a way to get Verona out of her father's house

With our poor Guilherme, you took half of what he had.  Of his love story and mystery, he has only his mystery left.

is the mystery the Carmine Beast? And if so, does that mean once they solve it they lose Guilherme?

“Stop,” Maricica said, calm, as her arm was torn down to bone.  “You know this only gives me power over you.” “I don’t,” he started, mouth bloody and partially full. He swallowed and finished, “care.”

a particularly morbid application of eating faerie food.

[flowerfeast444]

you were a house on fire || h.s. {pt 6}

harry styles x oc

chapter summary: roe and harry open up more. part of roe reminds harry of his old life

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

"So if I remember to carry the one, it's four hundred-sixty-five?" Demi mumbled, her chin perched on top of her hand as she slouched over the table. A few curly bangs fell in front of her face, dusting her cheekbones. She needed a haircut soon, Roe decided.

"I think you're close?"

Roe leaned closer towards Demi's problem set to read her work, attempting to find the issue. Demi rolled her eyes, dropped her pencil on the kitchen table, and threw herself back in the creaky wooden chair. Neither of them excelled in math, making afternoons like these a throbbing pain in the ass; but Roe would sacrifice anything for the kids, even if it meant suffering through a migraine and an argument to get them to complete their homework. They may not appreciate it now, but Roe would see them to their graduation day- that's a promise.

"This is impossible."

"Don't say that," Roe berated.

The next hour ensued similarly to how it began, and neither of them saw much hope for improvement. It was only when Roe got distracted with the sound of her text tone going off that Demi fully exploded.

"You're not even being helpful! This sucks, I'm going to my room. Don't come after me."

Roe threw up her hands in defeat and allowed her sister to stomp up the stairs. Perhaps next time she'll recruit Aaron to help tutor math, he's sure to pass at the top of his class. When she finally heard a door slam, she unlocked her phone to read the offending notification.

"I'm sorry again about the other night."

Harry.

Roe rubbed her eyes until she saw flashes of color. It's not that she's angry about that night because she's not. She has always kept her expectations low, it's necessary, especially when dealing with men that clearly have some underlying issues they needed to deal with. But she's not a psychiatrist. Really, it was a matter of time before he said something of that manner; he stood out like a silver spoon in a case of rusty cutlery. She wasn't angry with him. She should have expected his arrogance, and therefore any negative feelings are inevitably her fault for not preparing herself more.

Roe pulled up the message thread between her and Harry and sent, "its fine".

"Are you sure?" his reply came immediately, followed by, "Can we talk?"

A few hours later, Roe opened the front door for Harry. She had just coaxed River to lay down without crying, and she had scarcely seen the twins since dinner. As the clock ticked nearer to eleven, Roe accepted her siblings' contentment in hiding away in their bedrooms. As per usual on Wednesday nights, the oldest two brothers were still at work

"Thanks for letting me come over," he said.

Roe nodded her head once and smiled, unable to think of an appropriate response. She knew his intentions were good-willed based on the minimal texts they exchanged, but the anxiety that came with knowing he would be seeing her house for the first time nearly caused her to refuse to see him altogether. She barely had time to clean anywhere before he arrived, and she couldn't help but obsess over the toys strewn about, the yellowing smoke-stained walls, and mismatched furniture- or lack thereof. It was ridiculous, she contended. She likely couldn't fix any of those things in a day, anyway. But compared to Harry's sleek apartment, the Byrnes were flat broke.

He followed her to the plaid couch and they sat, a pressing distance separating them as Roe's eyes trained on a stain on the cushion between them. It was only the size of a quarter, likely a drop of ketchup or baby food, but it stuck out against the loud print of the couch as if it were screaming to be attended to. Maybe she'll clean it tomorrow.

"I want you to know I'm not the kind of person who does stuff like this." he gestured between them, "I don't know, I guess I just kind of panicked when I said I'd pay you-"

"It's fine, really. We fucked, you were a dick. I can move on. I have moved on. I don't know how many times I have to say it, Harry," her voice softened, despite its unwavering tone.

"Okay, " he nodded, "we can move on, then." Roe followed his gaze to River's Hot Wheels scattered beside the other chair across the room, "I hope I'm not intruding on your night or anything."

"No, I put him to bed a little bit ago. And we already finished dinner and everything, so." She nodded.

"Sounds lovely," he cleared his throat and smiled. "Do anything else interesting today?"

He came all this way to clear the air when in reality, there was nothing more for him to say. He felt it would have been rude for him to get up and leave after only sitting on her couch for a mere three minutes- if anything it would have been a simple waste of both of their times. Knowing the kids were home gave him a slight quiver to his voice, knowing their conversation could be impeded. He pushed that thought down, carrying on the conversation as if she were any other girl and this was any regular night.

"I was just helping Demi- you remember my sister you met at the shop? with her homework when you texted earlier, but it went as well as you could have expected."

"I doubt it; you're smart, I bet you were better than her teacher." Casual flirting. Normal.

"I wouldn't put money on that, I didn't even finish high school."

"Really? Why not? I mean, you don't have to tell me. I get it. I didn't finish school either. Shit happens." Harry leaned back into the cushions of the couch and crossed his arms.

"You didn't finish?"

"No. I went straight into One Direction after I turned sixteen. Who needs a diploma when you've got stardom, right?" Roe mimicked his smile, but soon after, they were both met with a tight silence. So much for normal conversation, he supposed.

"River was born the summer before my senior year," Roe blurted, "and the twins were still in elementary school then, the boys not much older. Long story short, my parents are shitty, and my sister and I dropped out to pick up some of their slack."

"Demi?" He furrowed his brow and tilted his head back.

"No. I have a twin, too. Fae," she strained.

"Oh, does she live nearby? I don't think I've met her yet."

"No. She's not around much anymore."

The stillness returned, and it brought an itch down to Roe's bones. In a house with so many kids, she usually got on her knees and rejoiced when no one was yelling at each other, crying, or cranking the volume on a boombox. Tonight, however, she prayed for any sound other than her heartbeat ringing in her ears.

When she finally couldn't take it anymore, she stood abruptly from the couch and faced Harry, "Wanna smoke?" she asked.

Harry shrugged and nodded, standing to follow her. While she didn't exactly anticipate this happening, she luckily tidied up her bedroom this morning after River spilled his juice on her sheets. And by 'tidied up', she simply changed the sheets, shoved loose items of clothing into an empty dresser drawer, and relocated River's toys to the closet in the living room. The closet was stuffed to begin with, and she empathized with whoever is next to open it.

Together, they gently ascended the stairs towards the door at the end of the hall; a Rocky Horror Picture Show poster peeling off the center. Roe shut the door behind him and moved swiftly towards her dresser. Harry stood near the end of her full-sized bed picking at a scab on his right thumb, unsure of what to do with himself, while she jostled some unfolded shirts around until she found the jar she was looking for. She triumphantly raised it in the air before settling on the bed, eliciting a chuckle out of Harry for the first time that night. She grabbed a green pipe out of her nightstand and only spared a single glance at the man beside her before crumbling the dried bud into its bowl.

The first time Harry smoked was at his friend's birthday party. They barely passed the halfway mark of year eleven, and he still had high hopes of attending college to study something worthwhile, like environmental science. He didn't mean what he said to Roe earlier about graduating; he had thought about getting his diploma often, and he took his studies seriously. There were weekends, however, that he set his books aside and let himself fall into the stereotypes about kids his age. He never found out where they got it from, but Alex brought a few grams of weed and a bong to James' party, and, Jesus, it was a party to remember. Despite embarrassing himself by coughing immediately after inhaling the bud, his first kiss happened later that night.

He never intended on making this smoking thing a habit. In fact, he didn't smoke the entire time he was on XFactor or the first three years of the band. He hadn't been attached to the substance as Alex had (and definitely still was), but that doesn't mean he didn't crave its warmth and ability to slow every emotion. Perhaps he felt the need to prove something about 'teenage popstars'- something a few of his bandmates regarded lightly- or he simply wanted to avoid disappointing his mother. It didn't matter much. Either way, as the band began slipping into disarray, so did his conscience.

At that point, Harry stopped looking at his calendar to follow the days of the month or the week; enough people on the team and in management steered him to his next destination and never allowed him to wander too far. And there were simply too many days until their next break to be able to keep a countdown, so what was the point? Niall told him this was a depressing sentiment. He held it anyway.

So, that May (he was fairly certain they entered May by then), he finished recording his parts of the new album for the day and was sent to find Zayn for his recordings. He jabbed the call button for the hotel elevator and combed through his hair with his fingers as he waited impatiently. The closer he got to his and Louis' hotel room, the smell emanating from it confirmed that Zayn was there.

"Shut up, you wanker," Zayn laughed, Louis just shaking his head. The two of them sat perched on the windowsill, a few feet and an ashtray between them. Harry cleared his throat. "Oh, hey, Harry. Uh, what's up?"

Harry repeated their manager's message for Zayn, but he only nodded in response. Louis shot Zayn a look before taking a drag of the short blunt between his fingertips. Harry still stood in the middle of the hotel room, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right, then back to his left. So, this is how it would be.

"Well, you want a hit, or?" Zayn trailed off. Harry watched Louis comb through his fringe and wished he would just look at him.

"I'm good, thanks."

///

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if you want the first hit," Roe laughed.

Harry shook the memory away and finally sat on the bed beside her. They took turns drawing the smoke into their lungs, holding for a few seconds, then releasing. He secretly held a theory that half of the anxiety-reducing properties of smoking was simply the practiced breathing. He tried to keep that in mind when craving anything more.

By the time Roe sat up to refill the bowl for another round, Harry realized he had slouched far down the wall and, oddly enough, neither of them had spoken since they first entered her room. Harry pushed himself higher. His back ached slightly, and though years of neglect were surely to blame, he suddenly held the single flat pillow behind him accountable. Roe seemed oblivious to this agitation.

"So, you have a lot of siblings," Harry said after Roe lit the fresh bowl. She didn't know whether he meant this as a question or a statement but nodded her head nonetheless.

"Oldest of six- seven if you count Fae. Most of us don't though. So, oldest of six."

"I just have one sister. She's older."

Roe hums a note of interest but doesn't prompt him any further so they fall back into quietness. If he weren't so high, Harry surely would be ticking with restlessness. Though he longed for the ease that accompanied close relationships, Roe was essentially still a stranger. Sure, they spent several hours together at Keystone or the diner, but Harry can't recall any substantial conversations. Anything he revealed about himself was surely a click away on Google, and half of the time, Roe shrouded herself in ambiguity or changed topics on the fly. Honestly, it scared him a little. He recognized that if this were to be any type of relationship that went somewhere, there would have to be some give and take. Vulnerability. That is if Roe actually wanted this to go anywhere. If not, Harry supposed he could feel content where they were.

A soft knock on Roe's bedroom door jolted Harry out of his haze. The door creaked open, but Roe seemed unconcerned as she took another hit- the bowl almost entirely ash by now. With the light in the hallway off and a single lamp to illuminate Roe's room, an odd shadow cast across the face of the man in the doorway. Still, Harry recognized him. He had been there at the diner to pick up the toddler that Roe came in with. Their connection bemused him, but he figured it wasn't his place to dig further.

"Why are you smoking that shit in here?" Lucas eyed Harry up and down but restrained himself from making any extra comments.

"Kids are asleep, window's open." She lazily pointed towards the hallway, then behind her towards the window.

"Next time consider the backyard?" He turned to close the door, "Or just trashing the habit altogether," he muttered.

///

A tiny elbow to the stomach jolted Roe from her sleep. As she blinked away the morning's blurriness, River giggled as he crawled around her with his stuffed pig tucked under his left arm. After a few moments, he settled down and sat on the tops of her stomach.

"Good morning, Jellybean. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes! No scary pictures." He promptly put his thumb in his mouth.

"That's great! Can you go downstairs and wait for me? I'll get you juice and breakfast in a minute, okay?" Roe kissed his cheek and helped him slide back down onto the floor. Roe and Harry eyed each other shyly. She shook her head and he let out a laugh as they heard River's small feet pitter-patter through the still house. Roe covered her face with her hands and explained, "He's an early riser. The rest of the kids don't wake up for another hour."

Harry shifted onto his back but kept his smile present. He thought of his plans for the day and how they really amounted to nothing. At least, they were so simple compared to Roe's. She had a routine, people that relied on her. The only things on Harry's to-do list consisted of a load of laundry and perhaps going through his voicemails. They had truly stacked up the last few weeks.

"I don't mean to pry, but can I ask you something?" Roe nodded in encouragement, so he continued, "I saw you with him- River, that morning at the diner when he was sick. Just the way you were holding him, and, I don't know. Are you," his voice trailed off, "Is he-" He felt his cheeks darken, and sunk further into the mattress in attempts to conceal it. "You know, never mind, I-"

"He calls me mom sometimes," she laughed.

"Oh."

"If you're asking whether or not I carried him for nine months before pushing him out, that would be a no. But, if you're asking if I'm his mother," she paused and shrugged.

"I suppose I should get going then, especially before the others wake. You must have a busy day, " Harry said, "And, I'm not sure how much I want this," he lifted a hand to gesture between them, "to be public knowledge. Not that I don't trust your family, just- " he shrugged, attempting to find the right words to say so early in the morning.

"No, I get it. They can be nosy little bitches, " she crinkled her nose. "Plus, I just got out of a messy relationship, or maybe I'm still getting out of it, I don't even know, and it could be good to just be, " she let out a big sigh as she rubbed her shoulder, "casual?"

"Casual." Harry nodded.

[blessednereid]

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

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Career Day

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Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

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L/N Residence

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You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

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Announcement

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The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

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Auditions

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You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

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Headmasters Office

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A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

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First Rehearsal

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After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

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The Talk

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"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

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Confrontation

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"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

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Opening Night

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Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

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You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family. 

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced.  You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder. 

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers. 

--

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

--

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​ ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​​ ; @hnt-escape​ ; @writingletterstothefire​​ ; @misswriter​​ ; @bison-writes​​

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

 Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

[crackedoutwalnut]

Never Quite Free (Natasha x Reader)

Summary: Natasha grows concerned after you start ignoring her and decides to check on you.

!TW WARNINGS: Implied sexual assault, PTSD, and panic attacks! (lots of fluff near the end to make up for it i promise)

A/N: just a vent fic,,, as a treat. The song referenced in the fic is Never Quite Free by The Mountain Goats, in case you want to listen to it for context though you don't have to.

--

It's all good to learn that right outside your window There's only friendly fields and open roads And you'll sleep better when you think You've stepped back from the brink And found some peace inside yourself Laid down your heavy load It gets all right to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him you'll know

For the longest time, going out into the world was like maneuvering across a field of landmines. The bombs could be set off by nearly anything, from minute details that had latched themselves to the back of your mind to glaring reminders that were almost impossible to ignore. Anything and everything that reminded you of him had seeped its way into the cracks in your brain, leaving irreparable stains and water damage in its wake. From the smell of cedar and pine aftershave to the brassy sound of a jazz trumpet on a passing radio, these reminders were minuscule as thumbtacks, and yet they felt like railroad spikes being hammered into your chest and skull.

In the past, you would bury yourself in work or drink yourself nearly to death to escape his ever-present grasp on your mind. Your life had been filled with you shoveling meaningless noise into your routine in attempts to block out the alarm that always seemed a pin trigger away from sounding in your head. Then, you met Natasha. You learned that she knew over seven languages and almost exclusively cussed in Russian when she was pissed enough. You memorized her favorite shows and books and how she snored like a lawnmower when she laid on her left side- a fact she vehemently denied. Natasha Romanov was caring, smart, strong, and oh so protective.

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land It gets okay to praise the day Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath

These little bits of information filled your mind and heart with endearment and love, thoroughly pushing the smell of cedar aftershave and rot to the far back of your mind. And that was where he stayed for the longest time. For a whole two years, you filled your days with movie dates, forehead kisses, and late-night cuddles. She introduced you to her friends, Steve Rogers, Carol Danvers, Wanda Maximoff; you even befriended Tony Stark- though Natasha never explicitly refers to him as a friend. Everything was going so well for the first time since before you met him. But, like a cockroach, your past is not so easily killed.

But hear his breath come through his teeth,

Walk by faith Tell no one what you've seen

You were at a local coffee shop when you noticed him. He was sitting at the table adjacent to yours, scrolling through his laptop, briefcase at his side. When you beheld him, it was as if your muscles were turning to concrete slabs. They were dragging you down, below the faded wooden floorboards, below the concrete foundation, until you were choking on dirt and rocks. It took you nearly five minutes to realize it was not him. However, him or not, the damage was done. Because you had seen his well-kempt mustache and graying sideburns, had seen his eyes the color of a lethal tundra. You could have sworn you felt those eyes watch you as you rushed out of the café and into the crowded streets.

From that day on, he was back. He visited you in sleep and trailed you all throughout work—a hefty shadow. However, it was not until you were in bed with Natasha that it came to its tipping point.

Your fiancée, having noticed your peculiar attitude, had decided to surprise you with a night of candles and wine. Not wanting her to be more concerned than she already was, you played along. You forced yourself to reciprocate every kiss and caress despite the acid in your throat and the timpani in your chest. Eventually, Natasha swept you off your feet into a bridal style carry and led you into her bedroom. Gently setting you on the bed, she quickly straddled your hips. Leaning down, she cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a heated kiss. You swallowed down bile and half-heartedly opened your mouth to allow her tongue space to explore. She groaned and tore off her shirt as she pulled away from you.

"God, you're so sexy," she murmured, grinding her hips further against your abdomen. Natasha grabbed at your shirt, pulling it off your torso before chucking it across the room. You felt your throat tighten as your upper body was exposed to the elements. Your fiancée set about yanking off your sweatpants, murmuring bits of praise under her breath as she did so. Her gentle lithe hands seemed to grown more masculine and rough the longer they touched your bare skin. Her body morphed into the familiar form of a naked man. His sickeningly familiar graying mustache and coarse chest hair set flares of frigid panic through your body. He was here, he was here, hewasherehewashere.

Your body convulsed and kicked out at your assailant; flashes of his rough hands forcing your legs apart fueled the strength behind your attacks as you lunged to your feet. You shoved him off of you with a borderline unhinged snarl.

"Get the fuck away from me, Castor!" You screamed before hurriedly shoving on your clothes and sprinting out the door of the apartment. He was following you. You could hear his heavy footsteps thudding behind you. Your thighs burned from the sudden exercise, and the roaring in your ears drowned out your surroundings. You shoved your way into the elevator, nearly punching the first-floor button with your fist. Sweat dripped down the nape of your neck as you struggled to suck in breaths of air. Clutching your chest, you allowed your knees to collapse.

When the elevator slid open, you shot to your feet and ran through the lobby, out into the cool night. You clumsily pushed people aside, his voice clawing through your ear canal. You wildly waved down a taxi and slid into the back. Your voice was as flimsy as tissue paper as you gave the driver your address.

When you got home, you slid all three locks into place and snapped your curtains shut. You huddled under your blanket and slowly succumbed to a sleepless night.

--

Natasha was many things, but a worrier was not one of them. Why should she spend all her time fretting when she could just get up and solve the damn problem herself? However, after three days of complete radio silence on your end, she was sorely tempted to break into your apartment. That night, you had rushed out of her apartment as if the Devil himself had been at your heels. The look in your eyes had been that of a wounded animal. Natasha felt her stomach clench with anxiety as she stared down at her phone. 37 texts, 10 calls, 10 voicemails, and not a single message answered. You were always a punctual texter, which only made her worry worsen.

Natasha shoved her phone back in her back pocket and took a long sip of her coffee. What the hell could have caused you to run out of her apartment mid-sex? Not to mention, who the hell was Castor? Natasha finished off her coffee and set her red and black spider mug in the sink. The cup had been a 6-month anniversary gift, and she made sure to drink out of it every chance she got. After cleaning up the last of her breakfast, Natasha pulled out her phone once more and typed out another message.

Nat: darling I've tried giving you space but its been 3 days and I'm worried. I'm coming over.

Natasha moved to put the device away; however, after a second, she reconsidered it and unlocked it once more.

Nat: I love you <3

Pushing the phone into her pocket, she rushed out the door. When Natasha arrived at your apartment door, she immediately pulled out her phone once more. Nothing. She huffed a shaky breath and pulled out her copy of the apartment key. You had given it to her after you almost burnt down your apartment trying to cook for their date that night. She had to rush over to your apartment to clean up the damage done by the small grease fire and cook you both last-minute spaghetti.

She twisted the key in the lock and quietly pushed the door open. The apartment felt akin to a tomb. The curtains were drawn, and all the lights were off. Dirty dishes were piled up Tetris style in and around the sink, not to mention the empty takeout containers strewn throughout the living room and dining table. The TV was quietly playing It Chapter 2, yet you were nowhere in sight.

Worry continued to grip the assassin's chest as she called out, "Y/n, kotyonok are you here?" Being cautious of the numerous fast-food containers and clothing items thrown about, Natasha made her way towards your bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment before steeling her nerves and carefully knocking on your door. For a moment, she heard nothing, only the faint sound of Pennywise's voice coming from the living room. Then, just as she turned the knob to open the door, she heard whimpering. Her heart ramped up to a gallop as she quickly opened the door to your bedroom.

Natasha was certain she had seen war zone's tidier than this. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the bedroom, mattress, and wardrobe. Not to mention the numerous crumpled tissues and fallen picture frames. However, the state of your room was hardly her first concern because in the center of it all, huddled in shaking ball, was you. Painful sobs were rasping from your lips as you burrowed your face further into your knees. Your hair was tangled and greasy, and you were wearing one of Natasha's sweaters with a food-stained pair of boxer shorts.

The assassin felt sorely tempted to sprint across the rooms and scoop you into her arms. Instead, she went for the safer route, which was carefully wading through the mess over to your side of the bed. Tutting quietly, Natasha swallowed the urge to cry alongside you as she quietly cleared her throat. "Mon trésor, can you hear me?" she whispered, setting a hand next to your own, cautious not to make contact.

Instead of a relieved smile or a tired 'yes' like Natasha had expected, your entire body flinched away as if you had been punched. Your eyes snapped open as you scrambled across the bed, looking around hysterically. "Castor?" you called out, eyes wild with panic.

Natasha furrowed her brows and backed away from you. "Y/n it's me, Nat. I'm not here to hurt you; I just needed to see if you were okay."

Slowly, your eyes shone with recognition. Your body, however, remained as taught as before as you studied your fiancée carefully as if she was a trick or a mirage. Natasha felt her heart fracture slightly at the display of fear. "Nat?" Your voice was quiet and raspy; if she had not seen your mouth move, she would not have registered that you were speaking.

"Yes, kotyonok, it's me."

You furrowed your brows and brought your knees back up to your chest. "Wha-what're you doing here?" You asked, your voice slurred and shaky from the sobs racking your body.

Natasha carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, "I have been so worried about you. After you ran out on me a few days ago, I have been trying to check to see if you are okay."

Your face crumbled once more as you buried your face in your knees, "I-I'm," you hiccup, "Sorry, Nat."

Natasha tutted dotingly and slid back so that she sat beside you, still cautious not to touch. "Hey, hey, it's okay, darling. You're okay; just breathe for me. Can you do that, sweetie?"

You inhaled quick stuttering breathe, which quickly dissolved into hyperventilating. You clutched at your hair and squeezed your eyes shut.

Your fiancée watched with a heartbroken expression, "You're okay, you're okay, just keep trying. Can I touch you?" You nodded shakily as she pulled you onto her lap. Gently, she pulled your fists from your hair and replaced them with her own. She stroked your knotted locks and quietly cooed sweet nothings into your ear. She guided your fist to rest atop her chest as she whispered, "Copy my breathing okay, mon trésor?" Sucking in exaggerated breaths, she held her hand atop your own to keep it in place. After a few tries, your breathing eventually settled, and you let out a long whimpery sigh.

It's all good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone See the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head And look about, all the stars are coming out They shine like steel swords Wish me well where I go But when you see me you'll know

Natasha smiled and kissed the top of your head, "You're doing so well, my love. Nothings going to get you while I'm here, I promise."

You burrowed further into her lap and placed your head atop her chest, letting the sound of her steady heartbeat soothe you into a lull. The two of you sat there for what seemed like eons as you soaked in the feeling of safety and warmth. Natasha hummed quietly, placing chaste kisses on the crown of your head every once in a while.

Sucking in a breath, you spoke, "He was a family friend." Natasha's humming stopped as she looked down at you. "His name was Castor Davids, and my dad met him at work. He was nice at first, sort of like a goofy rich uncle. He would always buy me new toys and books. He would even take me out for ice cream. Even when I got into fights with my parents, I knew I could always talk to him when I was upset. But then..." you gulped, your voice breaking. Natasha continued stroking your hair. "But then one day, he was babysitting me while my parents were out at a baby shower. H-he..." Your words broke off into a sob, and your fiancée quickly shushed you.

"You're safe; you're here with me. No one can hurt you, I promise. Just relax, darling. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that you're safe now." Eventually, after a few more minutes of comforting words and protective hugs, the phantom hands that had been grasping at you for days disappeared.

You burrowed your head further into her chest and huffed, " 'm sorry I ran out on you the other night. I shoulda texted."

Natasha chuckled humorlessly, "Darling, that is the least of my worries. What I am worried about, however, is the last time you had an actual healthy dinner." You looked down at your lap sheepishly and shrugged. Natasha playfully pinched your side and untangled herself from your hold. You whined at the loss of contact and looked up at her accusingly. "I am going to make you a proper dinner, and we are going to sit down and watch stupid TV shows."

You huffed, "Can we watch House Hunters?"

Natasha sighed and nodded, "Fine, only because I love you, though." You grinned and slid out of bed. Your fiancée inspected you with a grimace, "First, we're going to take a shower."

--

TAG LIST:

@midnight-lestrange

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him. 

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks." 

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him. 

"How much money do you need?" 

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa. 

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?" 

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup. 

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?" 

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about." 

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink. 

"You think you can do it?" 

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips. 

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal." 

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering. 

"It depends on the reason." 

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said. 

"The reason?" 

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it." 

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to." 

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work. 

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that." 

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter. 

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned. 

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me? 

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour? 

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button. 

"Hello?" 

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice. 

"Jisung?" 

"Noona, we need your help." 

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin." 

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark. 

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard. 

"Give me the phone." 

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening." 

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open. 

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name. 

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood. 

"Oh my god." 

"Please help us." 

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it. 

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again. 

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features. 

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please." 

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders. 

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me. 

"Thank you." 

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed. 

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing. 

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now. 

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well. 

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions. 

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?" 

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear. 

I stared at him for a bit before looking away. 

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much." 

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk." 

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time. 

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?" 

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze. 

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped. 

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock. 

"A…" 

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met. 

"I'm sorry." 

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection." 

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help. 

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment. 

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still. 

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No. 

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back." 

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it." 

Please don't leave me. 

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips. 

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him. 

---

Chapter 4

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader VII

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter VII

Word Count: 6700

[Chapter VI] [Chapter VIII]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, drugs, needles, panic/anxiety attack(?)

Notes: A bit of a chill and slow chapter this time, thanks for your patience. Be sure to stay hydrated and to rest your eyes from the screen! 

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

September, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Berlin

“We’ve got a job to do.”

It was like a switch.

The trigger phrase you never heard for the longest time still had its grasp on you. You felt consciousness leaving the realm of reality, purging into the memories and digging them up. The headache from earlier only seemed to worsen.

Soon enough, you awaken to the smell of burned clothes. Something heavy lied on top of you, which you came to recognize as a fresh corpse. Pushing them off, you unbuckle your strap and fall onto the metal flooring, causing the helicopter sink a bit closer to the ground.

Even if you've seen this scene repeatedly, it was unnaturally real. The smell, the sweat, and false pain you felt would be parallel to the real thing. But of course, it wasn't. Everything was fragmented, pulled together and assembled like a puzzle from war clips and verbal storytelling. You were never here.

And yet, Vietnam looked so beautiful. 

"This will just be like last time, Bell. You woke up in the middle of a firefight." 

Jumping down from the chopper, you landed on the ground, pain shooting up your legs. Sucking it up, you found yourself surrounded in a jungle like terrain, a paddy in front of you. Around you were a few American soldiers struggling to break through the defense of the Viet Cong soldiers. Nearby bushes and trees were on fire, and the smell of smoke filled your nostrils. 

One of the troopers in front of you was caught off guard, getting stabbed by a bayonet. His companion kills the attacker, before tending to his colleague.

It was nothing new. You've seen it all, and could probably even risk closing your eyes and walking through the hell of it. 

"The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack. You ran forward and picked up an M16."

You find the aforementioned M16 propped up against a rock, and you did as instructed. Aiming down the sights, you took down your enemies one by one. It felt like you were doing most of the work, watching them all fall. Once there was an open opportunity, you trekked forward.

Water filled your boots as you wadded through, loudly splashing around as you made it across. You could feel your feet sinking in the mud with each step as you practically dragged your feet. Your fellow combatants seemed to disappear when you weren't looking, their voices fading away. There were five, then three… 

“The remaining VC retreated into the tree line. It was then you realized that you were the sole survivor. You set off to… Find the bunker.”

You made your way through a small path. The green leaves seem to encompass you, nearly covering the sky. Dew drops would come down from above, slipping off of the tree branches and creating wet spots on your uniform. Humidity made your uniform stick onto your skin, bringing an unwanted itch all over. The buzzing of mosquitoes and flies didn't help either.

A ruin revealed itself behind the shrubs. The stone was mossy and covered in vines, a couple of Buddah-like statues sitting on each side on pedestals. A lone torch was lit, lighting up a red metal door that stood at the ruin’s opening. It was beginning to rust a bit, the red paint peeling around the edges. There was a strong sense of longing and familiarity radiating off of it, and you approach it, locked in a trance.

"Forget the red door, we're changing it up."

The red bunker door was replaced with a dark wooden one, just as your fingers made contact with the handle. It was well kept, unfitting for its scenery around it. The knob was golden. 

"You said Nikitin was trying to make you remember something important. What was it?"

You walked in.

The room you stood in had peach walls and a concrete floor. It wasn't the main meeting room, but rather a side office. Your office. Boxes were stockpiled and pushed to the side, a few filing cabinets aligning the corners. There was a large billboard on the right wall, featuring a map of the world along with various pinned papers, and meticulous red arrows.

A nice change compared to the lifeless grey and white walls from before. The color brought a sense of believability and welcoming. Stepping through it all graced you in intimacy, memories slowly trickling out from the tightly packed dam that held it all.

Maneuvering around, you placed yourself behind a well polished wooden desk that was covered in papers. There were sticky notes on top of it, scribbled in your own handwriting, with warnings of telling you to stop. Your mind refused to give into the pressure, your endurance training from years before kicking in.

You peeled them away.

You needed to understand.

A black and white photograph was placed on top of the small pile, featuring a rather threatening man, whose face was scrunched up in anger. They lacked any facial hair, and the piercing gaze seemed to bore holes into you. The bizarreness of it was that their left eye was practically colorless, with a visible scar running down where dark irises should match.

"Their heart rate is spiking."

"Hang in there Bell."

Looking up, you see Perseus waiting idly at the door. He was a bit younger, with less gray in his hair and a face reformed with less wrinkles. Along with his uniform, he had an armband with the group’s symbol on it. 

He gestures towards the picture in front of you. “What do you think?”

"Depends on what he can bring to the table." Your body begins to move on its own, and you lift up the photo. "You said he used to work under Kravchenko?"

"He was in charge of the Nova Six production on Vozrozhdeniya. You heard what happened, I presume?"

"Operation Rebirth," you answer. Shoving a couple sheets aside, you open a nearby manila folder and bring out a couple of photos: One with a bald man with shades, and another with a thick goatee and eyepatch, labeled 'Jason Hudson' and 'Grigori Weaver' respectively.

"What the hell? That's the mission we did back in sixty-eight."

"So you know." Perseus paces over to the map, eyes darting around before pointing his finger at a certain spot. "He's being held in the gulag, here. I think he would be a good addition to our team. His knowledge of chemical weapons can be of great use to us."

You nod. "What do you need me to do?"

"I want you to—"

His voice began to drown out, slowing down and warping as each syllable was enunciated. You felt yourself getting pulled away, as if you were getting sucked into a vacuum. Everything seemed to pulse as the light started to drain away.

"No, fuck! FUCK! Bell, what did he say?... Goddammit. Lazar, we're doing another injection."

"But, I thought–"

"This is what Bell wants. They're onto something, and we're going to find out. This isn't going to waste."

You winced as you felt something poke and sink into your eye.

"We've got a job to do."

The crash site appeared before you again. It was dark, crickets singing from down below. There was the crackling of fire as nearby shrubs and leaves caught fire. Shadowy figures moved like ants at the paddy, on the lookout for any American survivors.

"Let's skip ahead."

They froze.

"You're in your office. Perseus is telling you about a man being held in prison. You ask him about his plans."

The peach colored office arose around you, replacing the night sky and semi-humid terrain. Noise levels were turned down to the whirring of a fan that stood to the corner of the room.

"What do you need me to do?" you repeated.

Perseus walks over to you, eyes glittering with passion and intent. His agenda and fixation is one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, and why you didn't hesitate to join in on the ranks once he asked you to join. With his strong resolve and leadership, you had no doubt then that Perseus would be the perfect fit to run the country. "I want you to lead a squad with me. Together, we'll break him out. And from there, we can work to rebuild the Union."

"Of course."

"Good. I trust that you'll keep this a secret between us. There's been talk of more moles, and we do not want the Americans interrupting this operation."

You look back down at the photo of the disgruntled man Perseus was keen on introducing to the group. "What's his name?"

"Vikhor Kuzmin, so I've heard. I hope you two will get along."

"Kuzmin…"

The scene begins to warp, colors beginning to blend together into one large mass. Perseus was frozen in place, blending into the peach colored walls. His green uniform mixed with it, spreading out and darkening the once vibrant room. The voices of him and Adler got farther and farther away, and you could only watch as the setting changed in front of your eyes.

"Bell?"

"What's happening? Stay with us, Bell."

"Shi—!"

There were brief flashes of the mission to the gulag. Breaching the doors open with a nice chunk of C4, a group of about four following your lead. Kuzmin was in one of the cells that was hidden away from the public, at the depths of the prison reserved for people like him. Radio chatter and shouts fill your ears. Underneath his torn orange uniform were muscular arms covered in ink, various tattoos embedded in his skin. He was true to the photo, not a detail amiss.

"I've been waiting," he says in a hoarse voice. 

You couldn't respond. 

The scene shifts. Thrown into a meeting, appeared in a confined room. Judging from the walls, you were underground in a hidden place, water dripping from the cracks on the ceiling and pooling on the cold floor below. There were two other people with you: Stitch, now out of his prison garments, and Perseus.

"Why'd you call me here, General?" you ask, closing the door behind.

“Stitch here is about to give an update to how our Nova Six arsenal is holding. I thought you would be interested.”

“Of course.”

You take a seat in one of the swivel chairs. Stitch eyed you with some interest, probably wondering why you were even called here. The guy practically covered himself from head to toe, so you couldn't read his expression. From experience, he wasn’t the talking type, the both of you barely giving each other a second glance if you just so happened to pass by in the hallway. But through the chance you did interact, it was always insults or arguing.

“We have a potential transport route for the cargo,” Stitch begins, resuming his attention to Perseus. “Jose Luis Menendez. I have a plan in mind that might interest him. By next year everything should be lined up if negotiations go well.”

Perseus nods. “Very good. Things have been running smoothly with production, I hope?”

“Yes.”

“We’re using a drug dealer to smuggle some gas?” you quote. It wasn’t a bad plan, but it was a risky move to trust someone not heavily involved within the organization. 

“You have something better?” Stitch challenged, and you beam at him, flipping the pen around in your fingers. 

“Nope. Sounds interesting. Are you sure you can handle it, tough guy?”

Stitch restrains himself from reaching over to choke you, and continues to describe his plan. “A friend of his is being held by the Americans. There’s been plans for his transport, January, nineteen-eighty four. Our bargaining chip.”

You give out an amused whistle, leaning back in your chair. “Not bad.”

"Kuzmin has also told me about a particular man that should be in our interest," Perseus adds, sensing the tension increasing between the two of you. "I had one of our agents pull up anything relating to them. And, I have to say, quite a mysterious man, I think you'll like him, [L/N]."

He personally hands you a blue file. Opening it, there wasn't much to behold. There was a picture of a middle aged man, with a scar that stretched across the left side of his face like vines. A nice set of aviators sat on his nose, hair neatly fashioned. The CIA symbol was stamped on the wall behind him.

Your eyes drifted off to another part of the page, and you found his name. Russell Adler.

You close the folder after reading what little information was provided. Perseus was right, you were intrigued. "What are your orders?" 

"Our friend Stitch has personally volunteered to handle him, but I assured him that you would be best fit for the job," Perseus admits, much to your colleague's dismay.

Glancing at Kuzmin, his already disturbed scowl was further darkened, a vein protruding from his temples. You gave him a scornful grin. "So, that's where your eye went. This American took it."

"You ought to watch your mouth, mutt."

"Is that how you talk to your superior?"

"[L/N]," Perseus warns, and you settle back down. "Please. You'll be working together from now on."

"If he isn't a nuisance."

You see Kuzmin’s hand twitch, unbeknownst to Perseus, who gives a nod. "Continuing where we left off, I want you to deal with the man in the file. Russell Adler. If we let him loose for too long, we may have to deviate from our objective."

"I'll get my team—"

"No need. We already have a plan in mind." 

You raise a brow in interest, waiting for him to continue. 

"One man shouldn't be of much trouble to you, no? He may be America's monster, but we have a few of our own." He nods at you. "Pose as a CIA agent. We'll have someone from inside set up a meeting with you soon, they'll get you in. Once we get a hold of the bomb, you'll clean up the rest."

"Do you have any preferred methods in mind?"

"I'll leave it up to you, [Y/N]."

"When do I start?"

"After the weapons get to Duga. Ensure that Arash doesn't stray from the plan, yes? Come back here when everything is settled."

You nod in acknowledgement. "I won't fail."

Satisfied, Perseus gets up from his spot and walks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, his grip a bit more tighter than it should. "I know you won't."

It felt more like a threat. 

With years of planning already under the name, there were no excuses for screw ups or mistakes.

“He may seem like a good person when working with him, but remember— Do not trust Adler.”

“He'll lie to you.”

.

.

.

.

You woke up gasping for air. 

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Attempting to inhale proved more difficult than it should have, your throat turning against you and constricting itself.

The sensation you felt when you were drowning came back, and your hands tried to go for your neck, just trying to breathe, only for the straps to hold you restrain you.

Where were you again?

Your left eye felt like it was on fire, a burning sensation settling in, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing within your ears. Your heart hammered against your chest, just trying to escape it's prison. His final words bounced around your head.

"Bell?"

Everything felt distorted, becoming more rounded as if you were looking through a magnifying glass. 

"Let… Let me out." you gasped. Every limb felt heavy. Your attention directs to your left and next to the window, you were met with an unpleasant sight. A sense of dread overtakes you.

Perseus was standing still. There was a look of severe disappointment written on his face, the corners of his lips slipping into a frown. It was the worst feeling— failure to meet someone's expectations and vision. His lips part, forming words, but nothing was enunciated.

You failed him.

"Genera—"

"Bell," someone's voice cuts you off. A rough hand settles on one of your cheeks and delicately redirects your view back to your right side. Adler enters your peripherals, a cigarette hanging from his lips, nearly finished. "It's me."

There was his soothing voice again. It wasn't forced or demanding, instead taking on a calming and mellow manner, as if he were talking to a fragile thing. He wasn't panicking. It felt almost endearing.

"It's just me and you here. I'm going to take off the cuffs, got it?"

You managed a nod. Adler reaches over, unbinding both ends. Without hesitation you shot upward and doubled over, just trying to catch your breath, but it just came out in short pants. Somehow you brought yourself to a sitting position, but it felt like the atmosphere thickened as a result. You coughed, just trying to clear out the lump that resided in your throat, but nothing regurgitated. Adler catches you as you stumble over your feet.

Turning your head again, Perseus's figure was gone, yet you could still feel his lingering presence within you. 

"I can't…"

"Deep breaths Bell. Just copy me."

You watched Adler's torso expand as he took in air, his muscles tensing up underneath that black turtleneck sweater of his. Mimicking his action, you pull your stomach in as well before exhaling. 

Why was he so good at this? 

Adler's strange understanding on how to deal with your messy life and panic attacks was one of the few things that kept you sane. The Walkman, his presence…

Why?

He tried to kill you. 

And you were supposed to kill him.

"You're okay, [L/N]."

And yet he could pull shit like this, and it works. Every. Single. Time. It didn't help that Adler started to call you by your last name more frequently as well. 

“How… How long was I out?” you croak, diverting your attention away from him. Your heaving finally evened out, and the lump within your throat dissolved, leaving behind a slight aching in your chest.

“About two hours. You went into a submersion period, and we lost you right after you mentioned Stitch.” He gives you a cup of cold water. "How do you feel?"

The condensation of the water made you shiver. “I'm… getting better.” 

The setting finally meshed itself back to normal, the walls no longer slugging. Looking around the room, Lazar was gone. 

"Ready to talk?”

You took a sip, before fully downing it in one gulp. Wiping away the excess water with the back of your hand, you catch a hint of a rash at your wrists before trailing back to Adler. “First, tell me how you know Kuzmin.”

He takes a seat on the table. "He’s one of the people we captured from Rebirth Island. Also goes by the alias ‘Stitch’. I was in charge of his interrogation but the bastard never broke."

“You're the one who stabbed his eye out,” you recall. 

"I was just returning a favor for someone I know," he comments, watching your reactions. The color was slowly making its way back to your face, but you still had your left eye closed. "And you? You were reiterating how you broke the guy out of the Petropavlovsk prison. Elaborate."

You hum to yourself, sorting out everything you just remembered. "I led a strike team. Perseus would cover our squad as we went in. Really murky place, smelled like shit. Stitch was located on the deeper levels of the gulag, so we had our work cut out for us." You massage your wrists, trying to lessen the pressure that lingered. "The general was right though. His Nova Six project was something we were looking for."

"What's the plan for it?"

"I don't know. Last thing I remember was Kuzmin mentioning the Menendez trade routes to direct their supply to parts of the U.S.. There was something about a prison transport happening in January— He was hoping to use that as leverage to establish business with the drug lord." Your voice trails off to a whisper as you avoid Adler’s fierce gaze.  "Not only that but…" 

"Spit it out."

"We... were planning to make a set up of where I was a KGB defector who wanted to work for the CIA. I was supposed to gain your trust and keep them updated. Once we got a hold of Greenlight, I… needed to finish the job.”

"As in… kill me?"

"...That's one way of putting it."

You couldn't look at Adler when you informed him of the past ploy. How could you, now that you remembered that you were ordered to slice his throat open? You felt like a fool for becoming infatuated with him. Was the admiration you felt your own, or was it something you subconsciously convince yourself to feel in order to get closer to him? 

Dry laughing at your own idiocy, you gave out a disappointed sigh. "Arash must have caught onto our scheme. I bet Perseus didn't expect you to throw me into your MKUltra project. And now look how I ended up."

Out of all things, why did you have to remember that? You couldn't see Adler in the same light now, and you were positive he felt the same about you. It felt like the relationship you managed to build up between the both of you was about to come crashing down. "Nikitin was right."

"He may be right, but I'm still alive," Adler interposes. "You're one of us now, [Y/N]. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by ages ago, regardless if you remembered or not."

Your heart jumped at the mention of your name, but it quickly retracted, the feeling of guilt taking over again.

He hands you your Walkman. 

"Come on. We got our work cut out for us." Adler states. His voice or facial expression didn’t even give a hint to his internal monologue, despite what you just told him. While it’s a reaction that you expected, it was one that didn’t make you feel any more better about yourself. "Sims took a crack at the disk for you, but he already got stumped."

"Anything on the news about the bar?"

"No. I had an associate cover our asses." He places a hand on the door and turns to you with a small smirk, some teasing affection behind it. "Good thing you have me."

"...Sure," you mumble dejectedly. Someone was a bit optimistic for someone who just found out someone close was supposed to gut him open.

"Team!" Adler yells as he opens the door, and the activity around ceases. You caught Hudson near the evidence board (when did he get here?). "New objective. We need to find the whereabouts of Vikhor Kuzmin. Gather any evidence relating to him, and pull up past files relating to Operation Rebirth, the Menendez family, and their associates. Get Mason and Woods on it too, cross reference everything we have to what Bell knows."

And with that, you were bestowed the highest honor of stress and workload. Everyone spent the rest of the night pulling out old dusty boxes from inventory and sorting out the sicking yellow manila folders. They dated all the way until Vietnam days to the most recent findings, and you had to split up the work.

With the assistance of Sims, you manage to extract the information from the floppy disk within an hour. It was filled with KGB daily reports, as well as some encrypted emails that you had the luxury of breaking apart. The contents further backed up your testimony, containing some documents about the Menendez cartel and their affiliation with Perseus. This type of treasure trove is what the CIA yearned for. While it didn't go into the specifics, it had the data of a few encrypted messages and layouts of what Perseus and his underlings were planning. There were mentions of a NATO base as well as the prison transport. No specific dates, unfortunately, so the team had to act accordingly. 

Your eyes were bloodshot as you worked nearly for two days straight, just trying to put everything together. At the same time, Nikitin's words echoed from the depths of your mind, along with his abhorrent mocking smile plastered across his aged face. A weird flavor would spread across your tongue just thinking about it.

The phial Nikitin had in his pocket that had been sent off to the analysis team and returned via paper results, confirming that it was one of the drugs the cartel was smuggling into the U.S. You never forgot the taste of it, and refused to even get near almonds now.

Now you just had to write down everything and present your discoveries. You made yourself comfortable in the inventory space, watching the arcade machine flash brightly with the title and demo of whatever game input it was set to. The music helped you focus, but, after sitting for hours staring at the same rotten pictures and text, you broke.

A fresh breeze nipped at your skin as you walked outside, and you took a deep breath of the crisp air. It was night out, and a few bugs were dancing around the old yellow light. The buildings in the short distance were irregularly lit, the color of the exposed walls hard to determine under the dark sky. The gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you went around the corner. Finding the rusted ladder, you made your way up to the roof.

You situated yourself around the middle and lied down, looking at the sea of black above. You turned the music low, finding a good balance between silence and the rhythmic beats. Leaving your work at the table, there was now nothing to bother you at this very moment, leaving you to stray into your thoughts.

Multiple times you had told yourself going through the scenarios again with Adler’s help would provide answers for everything you’ve been missing, but in the end it only conjured up more questions. Your sense of self was leaving your grasp, and you could only live in the past. There was an invisible tingling sensation around your wrists. You were never able to forget the scene of sitting in the lab, bound to the chair while Park and Adler tried to make you submit.

Breaking a subject’s will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process.

That’s a small price to pay.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You needed to stop thinking about it, but having to work around the people who brought the issue upon you served as a daily reminder of what you have been through. Adler was the worst of them all, and it didn’t help that you were developing feelings for the man. 

The effort of sorting out truth and falsification was mentally draining as well. You had to get used to the resurfaced memories and live by them now. Despite gaining more info about your past, you felt a bit lost on what the next step would be.

“Mind if I join you?”

Speak of the devil.

Opening your eyes, you see Adler’s head just protruding out behind the raised edge of the rooftop. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. You’ve been intentionally avoiding him the past couple days after finding out the truth, and with him here, you couldn’t exactly deny his company with nowhere else to go. 

You gave a small nod of permission, and he vaulted himself over. He brusquely walks over and takes a seat next to you. There was the usual smell of nicotine that followed him, but judging from the strength of it, Adler hasn’t touched a cigarette for a while.

“Nice view,” he compliments, gazing up at the sky. “A bit chilly, too.”

You sit up. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“Sims told me a while back that you used to come up here when things bother you.”

"Damn it."

He observes you for a moment. “You’re avoiding me.” 

“I’m not avoiding you—”

“Then why are you up here?”

You look at him as if his asked a stupid question. “How can you still talk to me, knowing that I was supposed to kill you?”

“C'mon Bell. As if we all never tried to kill each other at some point holed up at this joint.” He shrugs. "And honestly, I could say the same about you. I shot you in the damn heart, yet here you are still willing to talk to me."

“Mikhail did say that the bullet was two centimeters away from piercing the heart tissue.”

“You mentioning that only further adds insult to injury,” he retorts lightly. As soon as he did though, he realized that you weren’t in a joking mood. That brooding appearance of yours wasn’t pleasant to onlookers like him, and it only brought upon further worry. "Talk to me, [L/N]."

"How do you handle it?" you blurt. Nothing about Adler gave away his internal struggles and torment. For someone with his age and experience, there was bound to be shit locked up in there. "Stress, the PTSD… Everything. I just want to take a break for once without shit plaguing my mind."

He shifts position. "Well, for one, having someone to lean on is a good idea."

"Who would that be?"

"For me, it used to be my ex-wife. As of now, it varies. I would get a shrink like Sims, but I rarely make it to the meetings." Adler pauses, before adding: "Mason has periodic evaluations. Why do you ask?"

“I’m just… trying to sort everything out. Like, I thought I was finally coming to terms about myself, but then it turns out even I don’t know. It feels… fake, you know? Who am I, really? Lieutenant Colonel [L/N] of Perseus or Bell of the CIA?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, huh? That's a high ranking for someone at your age."

"I'm serious, Adler."

Underneath everything, you could feel your old cold-hearted self resurface whenever you held a gun. It kept you on edge, like a snake just waiting patiently for its time to strike. Nowadays you only kill when it's necessary, but Nikitin's provocation brought out that nature Adler and Park had tried to suppress. Adler's power and hold on you was faltering as you both now saw eye to eye, he could only do so much to keep your deviant behavior in check, and you were afraid of losing yourself.

His leniency only added onto the anxiety— letting your guard down was the last thing you would do if you were in his stead. "After Cuba, when you put me under interrogation… I heard Perseus. He was saying to not trust you. It didn't occur to me until now but… How would he know about you? I thought it was just my subconscious telling me about the truth, but it was more than that."

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's anything but nothing!" you yell. "How can you say that?! I spent so long telling myself to trust no one but myself, but even now I can’t do that now. How the hell am I supposed to keep moving forward if there's a chance—"

“Take a look around, Bell," Adler cuts you off. "You're here in West Berlin, surrounded by the best CIA operatives. Woods, Mason, Lazar, Sims, Hudson. If something were to happen, we got you covered. Hudson and I didn't go through the effort of having you back on this team for nothing."

“Even so—”

"Even so, if you're so concerned, and you shouldn't be, I already lived long enough to make a few enemies, Stitch being one of them. Having a target on your back isn’t fun, but it’s what makes the job a bit more thrilling in its own twisted way.

“I’ve worked with you long enough. You have your struggles, but you snap back at every opportunity you get, and you sure as hell won’t go down without a fight. If I were you, doubting myself is the last thing I would do. That’s basically letting Perseus get in your head, and I wouldn’t want to give him that sad excuse of a victory.”

You weren’t just a machine made to follow orders, Adler knew. Comparing the person who you were today, to the one he knew back in 1981, it was like flipping a coin. On one side was the once reserved and obedient agent he invented, the person he tried to distance himself from getting too attached; the other was the you of today. The temperamental, smart-mouthed individual who was struggling to set free from the chains that tied you back, trying their hardest to search for yourself. Yet, you managed to put everything else first before yourself, and he needed you to recognize that you were important too.

“What I said that morning still stands, and always will.”

There was the fuzzy feel again. 

You were always quick to judge how people might react. It was always better that way, to prepare yourself for the worse when it actually occurred, but it brought more harm than needed. 

Fighting off lingering predispositions, you yielded to his persuasion, bobbing your head once. Bringing your legs up to your chest, you hugged them as the breeze began to pick up. It was unusual: you just needed someone to reassure you, and with it, it felt like everything would be fine. Even if it was temporary. "...Okay."

You feel something drape over your shoulders shortly after, with the familiar smell of cologne and ash.

"Don't want to get sick again," Adler states. Without his jacket, the black dress shirt he wore underneath hugged his form tightly. Memories from September's mission flashed within the back of your mind, the image of you tugging at his shirt to dress his wound as he laid unconscious. For someone his age, he was well built.

You avert your eyes, pull the edges of the jacket closer. Those types of details about people never fascinated you before until now. "...You mentioned your ex-wife a couple times before. Was she beautiful?"

"Mhm. Of course she was." He leans back onto his hands, gazing up at the sky as he reminisced about his past woman. "But, she's an ex for a reason, so let's not tread there."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? I have you now."

Your heart practically jumped out. This charismatic asshole. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You can't."

Why were you so scared? Just the thought of someone loving you felt almost unearthly. The emotional baggage you carried was already enough, so to hear that someone was willing to take the time to help guide you through it, and lend a listening ear was too good to be true.

You could feel his blue irises piercing you underneath those shades. "Why not?"

"You can find better."

"I did. And they're sitting right here."

Adler wouldn't let you go. And it hurt. God must have had a fun time writing out your life story, making two people who, at one point, were at each other's throats now fall for one another. 

Stop fighting it.

It was something you kept denying, but with each passing day working alongside Adler, it became harder and harder to bury underneath. That man just strives to succeed in his goal, no matter what the cost, and if the goal this time was to get close to you, and break every wall you had put up in his direction, then he had succeeded.

"You must think you're real slick, huh?" you mumble under your breath.

Caving in, you rest your head in his lap, staring up at his faintly glowing face lit up by the outside lights of the safehouse. Adler stiffens at the gesture, caught by your sudden affection, before easing up. He places a hand on your cheek, and you lean into it, giving out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes, feeling the warmth spread. You couldn't avoid it anymore, small tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

K̴̦͍͑̀̚i̵̡̺̝͋̔͠l̴̝͎͕͒͋̕l̸͇͇̽͘͝. 

Kiss him.

It was something new. The intimacy and the casualty of it. Something like this wasn't comparable to the parental love you had when you were younger— It was a new experience, something of its own existence, and you couldn't help but adore it. 

A stillness found itself between the both of you. The awkwardness that would have followed never came. Adler pondered to himself for a moment. You could see his Adam's apple move underneath the stubble as he wondered what to say next.

"If it makes you feel better… Here."

He adjusts his weight slightly, shoving a hand into the collar of his shirt and pulling out something metal from underneath. Adler dangles his dog tags above you, waiting for you to hold your hand out. When you do, he lowers it gently.

You didn't even know he wore them. The tags were a bit rusted, dirt and dark spots situating itself into the little imprints of lettering and edges. Your thumb brushes over the protruding words, reading them. His name, blood type…

Did he want you to keep this?

Adler notices your complex expression as you gazed up at him. "What? Is there something on my face?" 

"No…" You grip the tags in your hands, afraid to let them go. Adler was out of his mind— for giving you a sentimental object like this, and for believing in you. But… If that's what he wanted, then you will respect his wishes. "Just thinking how I haven't seen you smoke for a while."

“Just trying to kick the habit,” he discloses. 

You roll your eyes. “Knowing you, it goes way deeper than that.”

He smirks slightly to himself. There really was no use hiding things from you. “Just thought it would be rude to do it around you, seeing how you reacted that morning.”

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?"

"Hey, I'm just helping you live longer."

"I don't die that easily."

He returns a small grin. "I know."

Whenever it was just the two of you, it felt like you were on cloud nine. With the walls gone, you found yourself falling heads over heels once again. It was such a complicated thing, and yet you felt more relaxed and stable, knowing that you didn't have to spend any more energy just being apprehensive. 

"What're you listening to now?" Adler asks softly, and you take an earbud out, holding it out to him.

To be able to spend a moment like this with him was something you never imagined doing in your lifetime. Much or less, falling in love with a person like him. You had spent endless days counting bodies and shooting guns since you were young, to a point it had hardened you emotionally. Climbing up the ranking ladder was a challenge on its own, as not everyone was keen on having a younger soldier commandeering their lives. There was no time to maintain deep relationships then; you were too busy for that.

But after meeting Adler, you felt more… Humanized. He was like your bridge to stability. One look at him and a wave of calmness would wash over you. 

Was this what Mason meant about Hudson and Woods keeping him grounded to reality?

Now it was just you two sitting on a roof in private, with one earbud in your ear, the other in his, just listening to Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Adler was humming to the lyrics.

"Russell?" you call.

"Hm?" He tilts his head downward, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His striking blue eyes meet yours. He notices the corners of your mouth were upturned slightly into a small smile. The look in your eyes was something he wouldn't forget— filled with a new light, mixed with an unyielding devotion.

“Do you really trust me?” 

There wasn't a trickle of doubt in his mind. 

“With my life.”

[pkg4mumtown]

Signs of Attachment - Ch. 1

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Star Wars fic, so have mercy on me. This request was for my friend, Jaime, who gave me all sorts of information and I’m forever indebted to them for it. The timeline is probably very off, but…oh well!

To clarify before we start:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 1 - Effort

I slid the last tool into place and closed its drawer, the Halls of Healing finally back in order after the last rush of injured Jedi passed through. I thought bitterly about the war that I was barred from, except for the occasional medic deployment to forward operating bases. My saber hung uselessly at my side despite every test I passed to prove my worthiness to the Council.  It’s not that they didn’t have faith in me, they just saw me as a liability, which is probably just as bad. Despite how hard I tried to explain it, they were convinced that I could never be focused enough to be on the front lines. Yet, I passed every test while purposely being fully deafened and even being both deafened and blinded, which was somehow easier than the former.

Being assigned to the Halls of Healing seemed almost harder than combat, considering I had been far better at fighting than healing throughout my entire knighthood. Semi-dangerous solo missions before the wars? The Council saw no problems. A full scale war with plenty of droids as target practice? A big problem, apparently.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I had barely registered someone, no two someones, or rather their force signatures, entering the Halls.

Swoosh

I didn’t even have a chance to decipher any of what they were saying as their words and voices started to blend together immediately due to their arguing.

“Sop.”

“Yaioyu satowep beeineg doifficultat.”

“Lletat muoe gaorn.”

“No."

“Atnakin, ei doon'tat noeead tolorn beoe heneroe.”

I glanced over at my Droid for help, but its signing was a mess as both voices talked over each other. I eventually stopped looking at it and took a deep, calming breath. I tried to pick apart the voices and focus on one but both faded in and out, making it nearly impossible.

Shove. Scuffle.

“You do…”

“Eeim f—ine”

Slap.

“Yu figelol otan muoe.”

“Ei tolrippead.”

“Muaster, poleasoe tolelol heniem.”

Silence.

“Muaster?”

More silence.

“Muaster…?”

Oh. The closeness of the strongest signature was behind me now, poised and ready to—

Tap.

I turned and faced the two, rather loud, intruders to this calming place. My Droid wasn’t yet in place behind them, so I couldn’t quite get everything but I got enough. I had never gotten quite good at lip reading with Master Plo as a teacher, so he had learned Basic Sign Language to help supplement what was missed in speaking. I relied on my droid to sign to me quite heavily when dealing with patients to understand what was wrong with them, but it was only helpful if one person was speaking at a time. Definitely not whatever this train wreck of a duo was.

“Master?” the spikey-haired Padawan asked, staring straight at me.

“Forgive my Padawan, he toakess atfteer muwy Muasteer,” the older Jedi rolled his eyes, noticeably leaning on his Padawan and clutching his side.

“I do not.”

Feeling another round of arguing bubbling up, I held my palm up, “Both of you stop, please, and start from the top.” My Droid finally stepped in place behind them so I could see the signs over their shoulders.

“We just landed back at the temple, everything was fine—"

“Things are fine,” the Master snapped.

“—and he just collapsed on me. He wouldn’t let me check over him—," the Padawan continued.

“There’s nothing to check, Anakin.”

Ah, yes, the infamous Master Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin.

“Obviously theroe iss.”

“Eim fignoe.”

“Stop,” I sighed and closed my eyes and opened them after centering myself. “Padawan Skywalker, please leave us.”

“B—”

“Now, please,” I urged, not bothering to give him an explanation. Not that I needed to give him one.

The Padawan made a face of displeasure before bowing to both of us and leaving the room.

“—overreacting—,” Kenobi sighed.

I blinked at him, then glanced at my droid, who filled me in on the whole sentence.

Anakin is overreacting, really.

“Master Kenobi, please sit and take off your tunics and tabards,” I ask and look away, not that it was going to matter because I was going to see him shirtless regardless.

I tried to ignore the broad expanse of his chest, littered with scars and copper hair. My eyes lingered a little too long while raking over and looking for injuries. I was just being thorough.

When I saw the wound that caused this whole ordeal I sucked in a breath quickly. The skin on his side was badly burned and the wound was at least a few days old, so naturally it had infected because he neglected to take care of it.

“It’s infected,” I shook my head almost hurriedly grabbed the large tub of bacta we kept on hand.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” He brushed off my comment, obediently lifting his arm when I nudged it.

“Have you looked at it recently?” I scoffed as I further inspected the wound.

He was silent for a moment, making me look at my droid confused as if I had missed something but the Droid confirmed that I hadn’t.

“Master Kenobi?”

“The less I acknowledged it, the easier it was to manage the pain,” he grumbled back. “And surely, you can call me Obi-Wan, we were in the crèche together.”

“That hardly constitutes a first name basis,” I squinted at him. “I don’t even recall speaking to you. They were troubling times for me, it was easier to keep to myself. Less to…process.”

“Oh, believe me, that message was loud and clear,” Obi-Wan chuckled, making me roll my eyes in an attempt to not focus on the way it lit his face up or brightened his eyes. “I also seem to remember that you were one of the best saber wielders out of all us.”

“A lot of good that did me,” I gestured to the sterile room.

“You still have the honor of humiliating an advanced saber instructor in class while being completely shut off to auditory and optical input.”

A blush rose to my cheeks, “Ho—”

“Every Padawan in the temple knew about it…”

“Well, it couldn’t have been that impressive if it wasn’t enough for the frontlines,” I slipped bitterly.

“They’re not all fun, unfortunately,” he murmured.

“I’m a guardian trapped as a healer, Obi-Wan, anything is better than this.” I took a deep breath, “Anyway, you might feel some discomfort.”

I closed my eyes and hovered my hand over the wound and focused on purging the infection first, feeling it attacking the cells around it as I finally attuned with said infection. I pulled the infection away from his body, pleased when there was no resistance and it begun to trickle away. I tilted my head as I sensed another pain but in his leg, so I investigated without breaking the healing I was already doing. The pain visualized as five red dots, the cause hard to place while my mind was otherwise occupied.

Then, it dawned on me that he was gripping his own leg so tightly as a distraction to the pain in his side that even I could feel it. Blindly, I found his knee and then his hand clenching his thigh. His hand relaxed slightly as mine touched his, allowing my hand to worm under his for him to squeeze instead. With the infection released into the force, I focused on knitting the wound back together. In response, Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed mine even tighter. If I could have sent something calming to him, I would have, but didn’t want to break my concentration when I was almost done. Instead, I let my thumb brush back and forth over his knuckles.

Finally, the wound was completely covered with new skin so I let the force healing trickle away. I blinked my eyes open, a little woozy but nothing I wasn’t used to, especially after a long day of healing.

“—that—pleasant,” I vaguely heard through the humming in my ears. It always took a while for the force to stop thrumming in my head after force healing, only amplified by my condition.

I knitted my brows at him, knowing it was anything but pleasant and then looked over at my droid.

Stars, that was not very pleasant.

“Oh, well, yes I suspect the day it becomes pleasant will be the day that Jedi actually seek out treatment, rather than avoid it,” I stressed the end just for him.

“Sorry, I should have waited until you opened your eyes.”

“It’s fine,” and really it was, I was used to it by now.

“I’m sure it gets tiring having to have a conversation with someone over their shoulder,” I didn’t get to appreciate the sincerity in his eyes because I had to glance at my droid again, only proving his point.

“Well, it was a little hard to learn to lip read growing up with Master Plo…,” my mouth turned up into a smirk, clearly trying not to laugh.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, didn’t hold back and snorted; laughing immediately after, “Sorry, sorry…”

“But, he did learn and teach me BSL, so at least I have something. Even if no one else here knows it, the droid helps. Though, in the field I don’t bring it, so I just tell everyone to shut up at let me work.”

“That’s…unfortunate.”

“It gets taxing, if only because I don’t always catch everything so conversations are hard to carry without the droid. Especially if someone starts talking to me without getting my attention first.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head like he was deep in thought, “Maker knows we learn enough languages here, they should teach BSL, too,” Obi-Wan squeezed my hand, making me realize I’d never actually let go of his hand. Though, with his hand now squeezing mine, I’d have to rip my hand away and to be honest? I didn’t want to.

“I don’t think we have anyone fluent enough to teach besides myself and Master Plo…”

“Hmm, I’d still like to present it to the Council. Someone has to be able to teach it,” he smiled gently.

I had no words to express how grateful even the thought of presenting it to the Council meant to me. So I didn’t speak. Instead, I sent my feelings of gratitude through the force and our joined hands. I took the time to read the genuine twinkle in his eyes as I hadn’t been able to this whole time, and the subtle way his eyebrows relaxed as he realized what I was doing. My eyes drifted lower to the way the corners of his eyes and cheek wrinkled just slightly with the upturn of the corner of his mouth, a subtle smile for me. Lower still, to the coppery mustache and beard on his face, with flecks of gray from the war. Or his Padawan…probably his Padawan. I let my eyes drift over the endearing way his mullet curled just behind his ears and rested against his shoulders.

He was right about one thing; I had taken for granted just looking someone in the eyes as they spoke to me. It was something that was necessary for BSL, and while Master Plo didn’t have the most expressive face, it gave me back a semblance of normalcy to be able to carry on a conversation face to face. It helped bridge the gaps between any words I had missed and ensured I had the whole picture, even going so far as to express words or ideas I was having trouble expressing with speech.

I cleared my throat, realizing I was staring far longer than I should have been, “Sorry, um, here…”

I reluctantly untangled our hands and grabbed the container of bacta, scooping a generous amount on to my fingers. I applied the cool gel to the new, pink, raw skin, which looked far better than the angry, red and purple open wound he had come in with. He jumped at the first contact, whether it was because of the cold or not, I didn’t know, but his sigh of relief after was a good sign.

I wiped my hand of and grabbed a new travel bottle of bacta for him, before pausing and grabbing two more, “Here, try not to lose these…”

He took them gratefully, knowing we normally didn’t give that much to just one Jedi, “Thank you, I—I didn’t lose mine. I gave it to my men, they needed it more.”

His men, his clones, whose health he put above his own.

“I’m not surprised,” I shook my head, “but do try to take care of yourself. They need you to lead them as much as you need them to succeed.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

My brain halted for a moment, my eyes widening slightly. This was the first real conversation I’d had with him and yet he knew my first name without hesitation.

“You shouldn’t be all the surprised, our masters were good friends after all. Master Koon, talked about you a lot with Master Jinn. He just never brought you along, I suppose,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

I hummed, “He was quite protective of me and tried to overwhelm me as little as possible…”

“I wish he had brought you, though. You would have gotten along well with Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan had a far away look in his eyes that I almost missed.

“I’m sorry, about…”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Now, I should get out of your hair lest my Padawan get into trouble.”

I stepped back to allow him to stand and handed him his discarded clothes from earlier, before turning and giving him privacy.

“Thank you,” he murmured, casually watching the droid out of the corner of his eye as it automatically translated into sign language.

When I turned back around, he was fully dressed again and stowing away the bacta in his belt, “Have a good rest of your day, Obi-Wan.” I bowed my head slightly to him.

“And you, Y/N,” he smiled, waiting for me to meet his eyes.

Thank you, he signed with a small smile adorning his face.

He bowed his head and took a a couple steps backwards and exited the room, offering a wave just before the doors closed behind him. My stomach flipped as I replayed the scene over in my head, realizing he had mimicked the droid in order to sign.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

[han-shinsuke]

🔞🔞 TOJI FUSHIGURO

To the man I love,

Can I really make you fall in love with me? The answer is no. I could never replaced her. She was your beginning and she would be the end. I did tried my luck in hope of reviving your heart. You said it died with her and you weren’t capable of loving anyone aside from her. That’s where you were wrong about yourself. You may not have realised it, but you just did and you continue pouring everything you can give; to me, to Megumi, and to those who deserves it. You are not what you think you are. I see no evil in you. I see light and hope in your existence. Forgive me, for I am not enough to make you feel what it was like to love again.

May you find the right one for you, Toji. May you find peace in the love you are looking for.

//////

“You dated someone before?” Must I relive the time where I was the most happy? That’s what people do when they long for someone or feeling they had once experienced.

There was a chapter in my life I can never forget. It was the time of stupidity, bravery, and letting go, “I only dated one man in my life.” He has this kind of beauty that any woman my age that time would find hard to resist. “I seduced him to screw me. He is a man and a man has needs.” It was a good fuck indeed. “I had taken him by force. We were married. He could not say no. I was a minor.”

Jesse was in awe. Her mind probably couldn’t process all the shits I have been telling her. “When was that?” Only few of my closest friends knows about these. “During my college days.” A hearty laugh follows.

Again, it was the time of stupidity and bravery and shits. “I told my Dad to drop all the charges against him. He deserves peace and time alone. Of course, with his son and deceased first wife.” It has been five years. I hope he is in perfect shape and stabilized condition. He must be. I am out of his life.

“What would you feel if you meet him again? You left him after a night of rough fuck and a letter.”

Meet him? Again? Who would want to meet the nightmare they wish to disappear? I am a nightmare disguised as a woman. I shall perish.

“I’d be glad.” But he wouldn’t. He will be reminded of the times he had spent with me. “You know what? No one in their right mind would dare cross path with me again.” I may not be able to hold back and cage him in my arms and be the old freak I used to be.

Wherever you are right now, Toji, please, do not show up. I’m tired of being selfish and manipulative and loser when it comes to loving you.

I can’t make you mine.

You were never made for me.

“I will see you tomorrow.” I have started a new life in Kelowna. Alone. I made friends with some locals and luckily, landed a good job in here that pays well. Dad offered me a position in the company but I refused.

My house is not that far from where I work so I always walk home at night; to enjoy the darkness, to feel the coldness of the night and to be at peace under the watch of stars from above.

The keys jingles in my hand as I open the door and closed it again. I head straight to the kitchen without turning the lights on. I grew familiar with every corners so there’s no need to. The light coming from the open refrigerator flooded the kitchen and when I turn to get a glass on the kitchen counter, there is a man sitting there, wearing a plain white shirt and a pajama.

I scream so loud that it destroys the silence of the night and the neighborhood I am living at.

“Fuck!” Toji jumps on me. Two large hands covering my mouth. “It’s me! It’s me!” He points the scar on his face.

If he show up, I will not hold back.

I pounce on him fast. Knocking him down against the counter and in just a heartbeat, my lips are connected to his, kissing him with so much hunger that only him could satiate. I pull onto his shirt and drag him closer when he returns the kiss boldly. Without hesitation, Toji scoops my weight and put it on him as he walks to the couch near the fireplace. My back landed on the soft cushioned seat and my determination to keep him close and lock up between my arms increased. I won’t hold back. I won’t. Toji removed his shirt and the massive built displayed in front makes my throat run dry. I run my fingers from his scar, down to his neck, to his hard chest and to the trenches on his lower abdomen. I had these once. I got to taste the heaven that this body offered.

“Just say ‘no’ and I will stop.” My fingers slips into his pajama, playing with its band. Toji feels no love towards me. What he feels whenever I am this near and close and intimate is just pure heat and thirst. So when he said, “don’t stop.” I switch position with him. I expected it. He’s hard and his eyes don’t lie. I hurriedly discharged of my clothes and top him.

“I will ride you now daddy~” He just nodded. I pull his pajama down to his thighs and just like before, I acted as the thirsty harlot that I am. I am just a harlot, right, Toji? After this, I will drive you away.

He has gotten bigger and longer. I am familiar with his thing. I could tell if there has changes on it. And there was. It does not fit. It feels bigger. Toji seems to notice my struggles in putting him in. He spat on his palm and rub the essence around his length.

“I apologize for the discomfort.” He says, guiding my hips down to his saliva-coated manhood. Our ’thing’ slips into each other smoothly and its presence inside me made me remember the night we had in Mt. Romelo. Toji locks his gaze with me. There’s lust in it and there’s an unknown inhabitant in it fighting against the heat. I cannot withstand it. With my eyes closed and shedding in tears, I capture his lips using mine. Kissing him again hungrily. The rough movements of my lips causes his mouth to part ways and voluntarily lay a path for my tongue.

“Shit baby~ your kiss alone can make me cum~” Toji cried in satisfaction when I bit his bottom lip and tugged on it until he let out a long moan.

“Squeeze my ass daddy~ squeeze me hard~” I guide his experienced hands below and did what I told him to do. Toji squeezed me there hard and even spanked it until it sting. “Great daddy~ do it again please~” My tongue rest flat on his lips and I lick him and kiss him torridly before it goes down his chin which I rewarded with soft kisses and bites before attending his weakness. His neck.

“Fuck...” another long wail from him after I bit him there and suck the skin that has my teeth marks. “Ride me baby~ daddy’s hard for you~” he didn’t have to tell me. I will anyway. I’m just preparing him. Toji likes it when I’m on top and moving.

I continue the hard kiss and lick on his neck while I started pumping my cunt against his leaking cxck. It was slow at first, grinding gently, letting our muscles to adjust to the absence of intimate contact for years. “You want me to go fast daddy?” I know you do, Toji. The way your chest moves up and down and the choke-like-breath you are releasing, confirms it. “You taste so fucking good daddy~ cum inside me daddy~ you’ll love it.” I run my tongue in circular motion from his neck down to his nipplesx and then give what his body was asking for. I fuck my cunt deep and fast against his erection and Toji tightens his grip on my waist as he helps me move easily.

“Shit. Shit.” I love how he put stress to each word. Toji looks beautiful and helpless underneath me. He just makes me wanna ride him more. I push him flat on his back. I even pin his muscular arms above his head and kiss him torridly while riding him. “More baby~ ride daddy’s dickx like that aah yes~”

“Cum daddy~ cum~ flood my hole with your seeds ooohh fuck~” Toji managed to turn the situation in just a click of his tongue against my jaw. He have my hands behind my waist as he cocks his hips upwards, hitting my core in full strength while his lips moves on my neck and anywhere it reaches.

“I’m gonna cum baby~ stretch your pussyxx for daddy yeah? Almost there baby~ Fuck~”

“Ooohhh daddyy~ give it to me fuck~”

A harlot. That’s just what I am. I drown my thoughts with his kiss and flood my mind with his warm loads gushing into me.

I need to drain him so I could leave without him noticing it.

“Another round daddy?” I pulled him out. “I want to ride your face, too.” I will not let him protest. I kneel and sit on his face.

//////

“I booked you a cab. Get your things, Toji.” My plan failed. He didn’t pass out. It was me who got knocked down pretty bad. He fucked me in every positions and he only stopped when I begged him.

Toji cornered me against the window seat and smiled maniacally, “your plan won’t work on me twice baby~” I growled at him when he cupped my breast and taste its bud. I’m just wearing a bathrobe so access is easy. “Let’s give Megumi a little brother, yeah?” He cups another and nibble it. My hands move on instinct. I grab on his hair and press his face harder on my exposed chest.

“Aahh gosh, Toji!’ His tongue is swirling and flicking against my nipplesx. I can’t suppress my moans! “Aahh! St—stop seducing me aahhh!” Now, his fingers finds its way on my folds and immediately proceeds scissoring my hole.

“Oh!” Toji suddenly stops. I pant in anticipation and desire. I want his mouth and fingers back! “I need to return something from you.” I kick my feet when he leaves to get the thing he mentioned from the suitcase.

“What?” I asked. Annoyed. Lips pouted.

Toji pulled me up and was laughing when he pushed me down on the bed. He held my hand and to my surprise, a ring—our wedding ring, was put back in my finger.

I wasn’t sure how or when did I start sobbing when Toji leaned down and claimed my lips then whispered,

“Stay with me and let me love you.”

[yostresswritinggirl]

Exiled States the Obvious Pt. 1

Warning: May contain spoilers, may not be 100% accurate, sick ramblings, may break your heart upon debunking common theories

Some canon notes I've noticed and analyzed, this will be placed here not just for safekeeping but for other writers to be known of them too :DD

From Venti's story I; it is said that as a loophole to being refused to be served alcohol because of his appearance, he 'drinks on the job', performing while drinking alcohol the audience gives him instead of Mora (his own suggestion)

Story IV offers some interesting details from Venti's story quest: First, Decarabian truly loved his people and believed that he had done good for them. Second is that Venti was supposed to gift his friend an eagle's feather but wasn't able to do so because he died.

Venti knows how to forge Rex Lapis' signature. Venti knows how to FORGE REX LAPIS' SIGNATURE.

It confuses me how Venti and Diluc doesn't have some kind of estranged relationship knowing how aristocracy/monarchy damaged freedom in Mondstadt.

Venti has been to Celestia and it apparently fucking sucks. That or Venessa told him about it, but it still SUCKS.

The Anemo Archon can and will strip you just to protect his identity/secrets/past. Ask Mona.

Albedo and Klee in his trailer, we can consider this canon: Babysitting Klee includes fucking battles. Best big brother.

The way Venti talks about Albedo speaks of [How Earth is a thing in Space] [Creation of Human Life through Earth] which are direct points to God's (biblical) creation of the universe and humans. With the dialogue, Venti recognizes Albedo has Godly powers that can create such miracles, take this line with a pinch of salt tho.

A connection: The real reason Zhongli does not carry nor care about prices is because of his trailer, THE FUNERAL PARLOR LITERALLY CARRIES ALL HIS EXPENSES

Hu Tao's existence proves that Xiao has a sense of humor and it is MORE THAN LIKELY that the adepti knows and can casually smile or laugh.

This piece of work exists: "Sigils of Permission were once created by Rex Lapis and infused with adeptal power. During the Archon War, such talismans were used by mortals to channel divine power. Now, most of its power has worn off, but adepti will still refrain from harming its holder."

Xiao is actually less hostile/asshole-y in the Chinese version than the English one and should be taken as canon since, well, Mihoyo is a Chinese company. Lots of dialogues or voiceline connotations are lost in translation.

Zhongli's retirement scenario does NOT mean that the adepti will not be needed or will also retire (looking at you Keqing) because as proven by the fight, the adepti are still in need of protecting mankind.

The Qixing and Adepti all know he is not dead, stating he gave hints that he hasn't really died to them.

A huge possibility that Zhongli recites this line whenever he finishes or fulfills a contract: "The contract is fulfilled. That which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone."

If his words from the cool trailer is to be taken into heart, then Zhongli had long since cared for and protected humans, during the archon war.

Zhongli is not a MORTAL FUNERAL man, he is an ADEPTI FUNERAL man.

This broke God has the AUDACITY to go to operas, and not just any operas no no, "operas by the most celebrated performers."

He does not know shit about poverty because he doesn't know what it's like to be poor. He doesn't need to eat.

Besides the usual, he has more titles, some which are pretty funny: God of History, God of Stove. Liyueans(?) call him Rex Lapis, outside of his nation everyone calls him Morax. And in operas and children, he's more known as the War God.

Zhongli is very likely to cause divine intervention or sightings because a lot of stories and tales in Liyue about him are actually first-hand experience of accounts seeing the God himself.

Wrath of the Rock does not only mean Zhongli smacking asses with a laddle: Qixing of Liyue are officially responsible of punishing contract breakers.

Ningguang's role holds the big bad book of laws, with a whooping page count of 279.

This infomation is mostly for me to clarify Rex Lapis standing in the Seven: He is the first to ascend into Archon-hood, the one out of two remaining of the original Seven (Barbatos is second longest) and that besides him and Venti, the original Seven would also gather for wine in Liyue until they all left Archon-hood.

Zhongli really fuckin did a pest termination arc.

I repeat, ZHONGLI DOES NOT HATE SEAFOOD. To clarify, he hates TENTACLED seafood/cuisines. He can eat seafood tofu, happily.

It's so funny how the concept of "equivalent exchange" exists and is exercised in contracts, but not in a more dangerous aspect such as a l c h e m y.

The reason Jean is working as an Acting Grand Master is because the actual Grand Master is out on an expedition.

It is not normal for the Harbingers to be like Childe.

While battles and sparring is one of Childe's most usual traits, a lot of his character lines point to the fact that he's not outright looking for beating people up 24/7 and that his thirst can also be quenched by thrill or excitement.

General ones:

The other five archons do not uphold/focus on the duty of leading humanity, which was the prior responsibility of the original Seven.

I just realized the Archon War was literally about fighting to get a seat on the Seven. The way Archons are chosen are a mystery, just look at how Venti got his Archon-hood smh.

A pattern that we should consider but may be debunked in the future: A playable character MUST posses a visible Vision. So bye Scaramouche banner :')) pls debunk this Mihoyo

With Morax being unable to make Mora, economy is gonna be wack in Teyvat. In essence, every piece of Mora is valuable and will need to be circulated. Nations may fight to hold the most Mora and the one leading and already found a work around on this is actually the Tsaritsa, who has long since focused on economic power. This may not be coincidence.

Characters who are CANONICALLY good with children, to an extent: Ningguang, Beidou, Xiangling, Baizhu, Albedo, Jean, Childe, Ganyu, Xiao, Lisa. Italicized ones are the to an extent ones.

The Fatui has connections with Mondstadt, mainly the Ordo Favonius.

200 years ago sure is an oddly specific duration in Lisa's story and this might be expanded in the Sumeru chapter.

A clarification to a subtly known fact : It is the combined power of all the adepti that revived Qiqi, not just Xiao.

WILD CARD

Almond Tofu is NOT made of tofu. And in original Chinese recipes, it's not even fuckin Almond, it's goddamn Apricot seeds. But in Genshin it is canon Almond.

Tag lists for my homies that I want to share this with. Tagging other authors or lore enthusiasts are also greatly appreciated:

@heiayen @dandelion-dreams @karemelle @jrnightingale @galassyalex @boxofteenageideas @chels-void @starconch @worldsfool

PS I'm sorry for suddenly tagging you guys, I just thought it would be nice to share these with some authors that I know or have seen me, please tell me if you want to be removed, s-sorry in advance 👉👈