#and the survivors still need hugs

[alenkosx]

Merrin and Cal hugging.

[jeannefostergoriot]

Ohh thank you!

*go hugs all my favorite characters except two *

*who died and have been resurrected *

Reblog to give your favorite fictional characters a much needed hug

[ybcpatrick]

well i certainly wasn't expecting any of THAT but i'm not mad at it! so WOOO

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

Rewatching the light in the hall

because the amount of time I think about Joe Pritchard is embarrasing really

[pathologicalreid]

burn notice | s.r.

in which your workplace is targeted by a group of extremists, and Spencer tries everything to keep you safe

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fighting, threats, arson/explosion, politics, mass casualty event, sole survivor, greek mythology my beloved, public transit word count: 2.34k a/n: i genuinely think my laptop is going to start smoking if i leave it on for much longer.

You pull your knees to your chest, sitting on the floor next to Spencer’s desk while he speaks with Hotch about the case. JJ waves at you solemnly before she heads out of the bullpen, leaving you as the last person. Setting your chin on your knee, you close your eyes and wonder how things got so messed up so quickly.

Someone was threatening your work, the threats weren’t directed at you personally, but with the way Spencer was acting, it might as well have been. The BAU had been called in by D.C. Metro yesterday, and that was when Spencer started acting overprotective.

The letters were demanding all of the money from a political action campaign, something you couldn’t give away. The money wasn’t yours to give. “Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having made his way down to his desk.

Accepting his hand up, you sigh, resting your cheek against his chest when he pulls you in for a hug. “Just a long day,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist and finally letting yourself relax.

He chuckles lightly at your colossal understatement of the day’s events, gently rubbing your back before he goes to pick his messenger bag up, slinging it over his shoulder before taking your hand, “What do you say we order something out for dinner?”

You hum in response, “I think it’s pretty obvious that neither of us is in the mood to cook.” You don’t even need to bring up the fact that it’s eight p.m., you could be heading home at five and you still wouldn’t have it in you to cook a meal. You slip your hand in his while you’re heading to the elevator, waving briefly at Hotch as he locks up his office.

Spencer lets you sit on the metro, standing until it’s time to switch lines and he finds a seat while you’re headed to Farragut North. You rest your head on his shoulder, wondering if the food you ordered on the phone was going to beat you to the apartment.

You’re half asleep by the time you get to Van Ness, and Spencer practically drags you behind him as you exit the station and walk back to the apartment. As you expect, your food is waiting for you on the welcome mat, complete with the handwritten note from your favorite delivery driver, “God, this smells good.” You say, holding the warm take-out containers in your arms while Spencer opens the front door.

Setting everything on the kitchen counter, you retreat briefly to the bedroom to change your clothes, pulling on an old t-shirt before returning to the kitchen, taking your container, and sitting on the couch. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”

With food in your mouth, you nod at Spencer, watching him sit down on the other end of the couch. Swallowing, you shrug, “It’s election season, Spence. This is one of my busiest times of the year.”

“But there’s a group of people threatening to blow up the building that you work in,” Spencer reminds you, mixing up his food with his fork.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation today. “At the end of the day, it’s up to my boss to decide whether or not we get to take the day off or if we have to go into the office, and he said that anyone who doesn’t come in tomorrow gets fired.”

Spencer’s gaze narrows, “I quite honestly don’t care. I’d rather we go to having a single income than have you die in a domestic terrorism incident” He points his fork at you, “And for what it’s worth, your boss is an asshole.”

You huff in recognition, now that was something you were well aware of. This job was supposed to be your way in. A stepping stone on your way to being a liaison in the White House, but the world had started to slow down from the moment you entered the world of politics. Every ounce of excitement that you had felt when you first moved to D.C. was fleeting.

Work sapped joy from your life, and everyone around you knew it.

Fiddling with your chopsticks, you dig around in your takeout container for a carrot, “Do you think we could talk about something other than work?”

“I can’t stop thinking about how tonight might be my last night with you,” Spencer says morbidly, aggressively stabbing at his container. It was Spencer’s greatest blessing and his eternal damnation, being able to think so quickly and operate in a way that left his peers miles behind.

He saw the solution so plainly in front of him, standing in his pool of water with a fruit tree creating a foreboding shadow above him, but every time he reached out with the answer, you retreated. “DHS didn’t think it was a credible threat,” you murmur, setting your food down on the coffee table so you can attempt to have a real conversation with him about this.

Spencer huffs in response, the hair blowing strands of his hair around his face, “DHS isn’t emotionally involved in this case.”

You tilt your head to the side, “Do you think maybe you’re too close to this? What did Hotch say?”

“Fuck off,” he snaps. It was an instinctive reaction to your pushing, but that didn’t make the sting any less painful.

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you shrink back into your side of the couch, “Is that what you told Hotch, too?” You watch his reaction, the way he presses his lips together in acute shame for what he said to you, but he won’t take it back, and he won’t apologize for it. Not right now, at least.

He’s just afraid, you try to remind yourself. Spencer’s terrified of something happening to you and he has some sort of deep-seated inability to process fear, so when he gets scared, he gets mean. Right now, he was taking his fear out on you, and if something was going to happen to you tomorrow, you didn’t want him to spend his time lashing out.

You turn on the TV, flipping to a program that the both of you like before going back to your dinner, manifesting that the tense silence between the two of you turns peaceful before it’s too late.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Nadine asks you, nudging your side gently with her elbow until you snap out of your fugue. “Are you heading home for dinner?”

Checking the time on your watch, you nod absentmindedly, “Probably,” your voice is rough from lack of use, spending so much of your day just staring at election models. You have the privilege of being the only employee who lives close enough to be able to go home for meals—you’d packed a lunch, but you have to stop at home for dinner.

In an unsurprising turn of events, your team was staying late at work tonight. You’d already texted Spencer to let him know, but you doubt that he even looked at your message. “Hey, at least no crazy person came and blew up the office,” she continues, noticing your melancholia.

You laugh without humor, a dry empty sound in response to your co-worker tempting fate. “Yeah, at least there’s that,” you respond, noting the strange air that remains in the suite, people are still thinking about the threat, even if they’re too scared to say it aloud.

Walking back to the office after making a sandwich at home, you pull your phone out of your purse and try to haphazardly type out an on my way text to Nadine, but when you send it, it doesn’t go through. Shaking it off, you drop your phone back in your purse and keep walking, sirens passing on the street as something goes on in the city. You think about texting Spencer again but decide against it—it’s better to give him his space.

A passing pedestrian knocks into you, getting you to lift your head to frown at him, but he just keeps running forward, not even bothering to throw a sorry over his shoulder.

“Is that building on fire?” Someone asks, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the question, picking up your own pace as tufts of smoke billow into the sky, suspiciously close to where your office is.

There’s a mob forming behind the police line, people who were in the middle of their commutes home when they found something to gawk at. Even people who choose to keep walking are rubbernecking, making double steps to look at the building for a split second longer. “Isn’t that the councilman’s office?”

“No,” you breathe, watching the flames as they only grow. The crowd clutches their pearls as people ask about people jumping from the building, your friends who would rather jump and possibly survive than burn to death. People run past you to get closer while you can’t do anything except watch in horror.

It’s not until one of the windows shatters that you move again, the location of the window right next to where you and Nadine had been standing earlier. You push through the crowd, trying to reach the police barricade as people ask Metro PD for answers.

You try to duck under the police tape before someone pushes you back, “No!” You cry, “No, no, no! Please let me through! I work here,” you try to explain through gasping breaths, “This is my job! These are my friends!” You shout over the ruckus, the smell of the fire filling your senses.

“Ma’am, ma’am,” one of the officers talks down to you, “We’re under strict orders from the FBI that no one is allowed to get through.” His voice doesn’t have an ounce of sympathy in it, and it pushes you closer to the ledge.

You point at him accusingly, “Fuck your orders! Let me talk to the FBI!” Desperation oozes from you in every direction as the crowd steps away from the crazy woman shouting about the FBI. “I know them all,” you plead, “just let me talk to them!”

The officer holds his hands out, “Ma’am, I don’t want to have to remove you from the scene.”

But you’ve already moved on from him, noticing a familiar cascade of dark hair on the other side of the barricade, “Oh my god, Emily!” Your voice is comparable to a shriek as you try to get her attention, “Emily, please!”

Relief floods your chest as her head snaps in the direction of your shouting, a confused look quickly morphing into shock as she recognizes you. “Let her through,” She calls to the officers, looking at you as if she’s seen a ghost. “What’s going on?”

You run to her first, adrenaline thrumming through every part of your body as you point to the two officers who made an enemy of you, “Those two won’t fucking listen to me!”

“We thought you were in the building,” Emily says, her tone is eerie, almost haunted.

Gasping for air, you wave your hand around at the building, babbling something about dinner and the walk while she continues to monitor your surroundings.

She places her hands on your shoulders to stop you from bouncing around, “Y/N, Spencer thinks you were inside the building.”

It’s like she’s knocked the hair out of your lungs, you shake your head, “I wasn’t. I was at home. I left for…” your voice trails off at the realization that at this very moment, Spencer thinks you’re dead. At the very least he thinks you’re trapped inside of that building when you very likely could’ve been at the apartment that you share while the fire was set.

“Reid!” Emily calls into her radio, rolling her eyes in frustration, “He took his earbud out.”

You tug at her arm, “Where is he?” Your voice broke, grief flooding your eyes as she communicated with the team.

She nods her head to the left, “He’s on the north side of the building.”

Not even waiting for her to finish her sentence, you took off in a full sprint, ignoring other people looking at you like you’re insane because the only thing you can think of is getting to Spencer. “Spencer!” You shout, your voice ragged from running, throat swelling with emotion as you scream for him.

JJ sees you first, “Reid!”

And you see him. It looks like Derek’s holding him back, stopping him from running into the building when you call out again, “Spence!”

He turns just in time to catch you, nearly toppling onto the ground as you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him while he holds you so tightly that your feet lift off of the ground.

“Yeah, Emily,” Derek says into his radio, “We’ve got her.”

Your hands tremble with an assortment of emotions as you grip the straps of his Kevlar vest, depending on him to keep you standing, “I’m okay,” you babble, “I wasn’t in there.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer responds, burying his face in your neck, you hold him impossibly tight as his tears hit your skin, eliciting a sob from the back of your throat.

You gasp, “I know. It’s okay. I’m okay,” you repeat like a mantra, a collection of words that needs to be tattooed on his brain. “We’re okay,” you tell him, smiling faintly as he walks backward to an ambulance, neither of you faltering in your grip of the other.

It seems like every cell that made up his body is shaking as he holds you, “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes again. This time it’s deeper. He’s apologizing for his behavior, sure, but he’s apologizing for this event.

A cry bubbles in your throat. Everything was gone. Your friends were gone. The last two years of your life burnt to ashes.

And when you lose your footing and you otherwise would’ve fallen to the ground, Spencer keeps you up, his grip holding you together—keeping you close.

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (II)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 3,384

CW: MDI, 18+, SMUT, loss of viriginity, p in v, oral (f reciving), fluff, slight angst, depression, dependancy. not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

(smut between the dividers by @zaldritzosrose)

“I have to go to kings landing” you started as you walked into Cregan’s’ solar. It had been a week since the letter announcing your younger brother Viserys return, and you had not stopped asking to go.

“And you shall” Cregan spoke, looking up from his papers, “but after we are wed”

You were set to marry in a matter of days. You understood the need to be wed before leaving and yet waiting to see your brother after believing he was dead was pure torture.

You were desperate to see him, all you wanted was to hug him once more and tell him how sorry you were.

But duty came first.

The lords of the north were growing angsty with how long it was taking for you and Cregan to marry.

The alliance between your houses was sure to benefit the north, and until you were married, said agreements and benefits had yet to happen. And with the winter approaching the lords were growing antsy.

“of course,” you looked down, nervously playing with your fingers. “I am just eager to see my brothers and with the journey set to take a month-“

“I understand, I do, but my hands are tied” he interrupted, looking at you with understanding, “I promise, the day after our wedding we will leave”

“perhaps we could take Silverwing?” you asked hopeful, the journey would take around a day, if they rode fast, at the most three days.

“i- im not-“

“I promise its safe, and you have ridden Silverwing before.” He had, on your first visit to Winterfell. He had been hesitant then too, but you had somehow manged to drag him onto Silverwing and flown around the north for hours.

“aye, but this would be different” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “your brother has sent a letter…requesting me to become hand of the king”

you smiled “so we would be staying?”

“yes…this also means I will be having to take a large number of my household, and… though Sara shall act as the lady of Winterfell in my stead, once you are with child you will…have to return…without me, and take over the ruling of Winterfell until I am released as hand”

you were at a loss for words, this past moon you had felt lighter, the days of rotting in your bed, finding no reason to get up, having no energy to eat.

The empty hollowness you had felt for months on end has been filled, all with the help of Cregan. And now to find out that the second you got pregnant you would be shipped of and most likely never be able to return to your brothers.

You knew that there should always be a stark in Winterfell, and that their children would rule it one day, but you did not want to live in Winterfell without him.

You relied on him, in a near unhealthy way. You were often with him, in the library, or in his solar. You had already taken on the duties as Lady of Winterfell. You had liked having responsibilities, found you were good at it. But the main part of it that you liked, was that it was all with him. The friendship you once had had returned, though with trepidation as you had a first still felt empty.

You still felt the loss of your twin. Your other half. Without him you feared you would always feel incomplete, and yet Cregan had somehow manged to fill the void the death of your twin, of Luke and Joffrey.

You felt like you could so easily love him, but now.  Now a part of you resented putting this off for so long, only to know discover that you time with Cregan may be a few months or stolen moments every year.

Your mind went back to last week.

You had spent the day in each other’s company, sat in his solar as he answered letters, and you had read.

The comfort you had found with him was like no other, sitting in each other’s company. Not talking for hours and yet you felt content.

And now to learn that you may not feel the presence of him for moons on end, perhaps even years.

“I would like to stay with you, stay in kings landing” you spoke in determination, “I will not become the wife of an absent husband”

“I would not be-“

“you would sent me a thousand leagues away! So yes that makes you an absent husband!” you shook your head “I-I understand how important being hand is, how much Egg looks up to you, and I will not ask you to refuse the offer but…but I need you.” you said tearily, “without you I will…I will only find that hollowness I felt for moons, the sadness will return without you to…to comfort me, to hold me and cherish me. I cannot be alone, I may rely on you a little too much, but I cannot bear to…” you were crying now, you knew in some sense it was manipulating, but everything you had said was true. The sadness would return, he offered you the perfect reasons for you to find a purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning.

A part of you hated that you relied on another for a purpose, but all the things that once filled you with joy, with purpose, now filled you with sadness and hate.

And now, Cregan had been the thing you found some sense of joy in, and you were excited to marry him, but now part of you dreaded it, not wanting to part from him.

He stood up from his desk moving around to you and pulling you into a hug.

Cregan was a very affection person, always holding your hand or pulling you into a hug away from prying eyes.

“Cregan” you mumbled into his chest, as he stroked your hair.

“i will not send you away if you truly do not want to, but…I know the pain kings landing gives you and I do not want to ask you to spend years in the place of your torment” he said, pulling back from you slight to hold your face, “but… the babe must be born and raised here”

“I know, and I love that you do not wish for me to live in the place of such pain for me, but before… before the-the war…I loved the red keep and…I love my brothers enough to stay there” you mumbled, “If you promise not to stay the hand forever then I shall go to Winterfell if I fall pregnant during your time as hand, but i- I do not wish to be apart form you for too long”

He smiled as you said that, “how about we talk about this when the times comes, hmm?” you smiled, reaching up to place a small kiss on his cheek.

You nodded your head, stepping back from him. “i-I hope you know that I do…that I” you were stumbling over your words unsure of what to say to him. You had somehow over the course of the past moon, returned to your shy nervous self, blushing in his presence, and stumbling over your words.

“yes?” he asked smiling curiously.

“I… I feel a lot better lately, and it is thanks to you…I truly care for you and I think that I might…” you looked down nervously, unsure of if you should tell him your feelings.

“I can tell” he said before you could finish your sentence “you seem to much happier, the light in your eyes has returned and i…I want you to know that I feel the same” he blushed, “I look forward to marry you, and I hope you do also”

You nodded smiling, as you stepped back and you both continued going about your own duties, enjoying the solace of each others company.

The day of the wedding had finally come. The lords of the north had all gathered at Winterfell. The halls now full of bustling bodies, the maids running about nonstop to fulfil all their duties.

You and Cregan had been forced to spend the last day and night apart, with the north believing it to be bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other the day before the wedding.

You had instead spent the day with Sara.

“I had hoped my sisters would make it” you said sadly as she laced up your dress.

“we still have time, they may yet arrive” she said, trying to build your spirits.

Your grandsire Corlys had arrived the day before, fulfilling his long-term promise to walk you down the aisle.

You had always been close to your grandsire, with him always saying how similar to his wife you had looked.

“granddaughter” you heard him say as he had entered the room, smiling as he saw the sea horses embroidered on your dress.

“grandsire” you smiled in greeting, moving over to kiss his cheek. “do you have any news on Balea or Rhaena?” you asked hopeful.

He smiled slyly, before moving aside and allowing Balea and Rhaena to walk into the room.

“you’re here!” you had said in disbelief..

“of course, we wouldn’t miss your wedding” Baele spoke pulling you into a hug.

They had both been married themselves recently, Baela to Alyn, Corlys newly appointed heir, and Rhaena to Corwyn Corbray.

“are your husbands here?”

“yes, there both with Cregan I believe,” Rhaena said, moving to take over from Sara as she finished lacing up your dress.

“you look beautiful, sister” Balea said, smiling kindly. “Are you nervous?”

“should I be?” you asked nervously.

“do you care for him?”

You looked over at sara, as she gave you a teasing smile. She knew of your feelings for Cregan, and it seemed from that look alone your sisters to know knew.

“yes”

“then you have nothing to worry about”

“what of the…”you looked over at Corlys to see his looking slightly uncomfortable, “the night�� you whispered.

“you have been betrothed for years and you have never…?”

“no!” the question shocked you, your mother had always been insistent on you waiting for marriage, saying she didn’t want you to make the same choice she had.

“never even kissed?” Sara asked shocked.

You shook you head.

“no! I’ve only ever kissed….” You wouldn’t say his name, it hurt to much. The betrayal you had felt, how you had almost given him everything. Though you were glad you never had with Aemond, for you loved Cregan. At least you think you do. “ahh” Balea almost flinched.

“it hurts the first time, but after…it can be very nice” Sara spoke, whispering.

“and Cregan is a good man, he likes you…perhaps even loves you. He will be gentle” she said, though grimacing slightly at talking about her brother in such a way.

Corlys coughed awkwardly, moving to interrupt their whispered conversation.  “it is almost time” he said, softly moving towards you.

“we better hurry up then” you said, motioning for Sara to start your hair.

Balea, Rhaena and sara had all left once you were fully ready. Leaving you and Corlsys alone.

“you are a vision” he said, as you took his arm. You started to walk through the halls of Winterfell.

you wore a dress as white as snow. With a full skirt and long flowy sleeves covered in a lace pattern.

You wore you hair down, bar tow braids at the top your head that joined at the back. Though your hair was hidden behind a lace veil, lace that matched your sleeves. Your face was covered, though it wouldn’t be for long, as you soon approached the gods woods.

“who comes before the old gods this day?” asked the northern lord officiating the wedding, as you entered the gods woods.

“y/n, of house Veleryon, She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Creagan, of house stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the north. Who gives her?”

“Corlsy, of house Veleryon, lord of the tides and of Driftmark, her grandsire.”

“princess Y/n, do you take this man?”

“I take this man”

“lord Cregan, do you take this woman”

“I take this woman”

“Then I pronounce you man and wife, before the old gods and the new”

You smiled at him, before reaching up and taking his lips in yours. The kiss was short and short, but caused you both to blush as cheers resounded throughout the wedding guests.

“I believe it is time for a feast!” Cregan announced as the lords and ladies cheered in response.

The feast was grand, though much different from the ones you had grown up with. It was loud and bawdy, with the lords all drunk and even singing northern tunes.

You and Cregan had kept to yourself, eating your food and talking between one another.

You had been enjoying yourself, enjoying the first few hours of marital bliss.

And then the bedding was called.

You had forgotten about the tradition.

The bride and groom escorted to their chamber. The groom by the woman, there clothes pulled of them, the bride escorted by the men, often groped and fully naked by the time they reached their chambers.

Feared courses through you as lord Bolton declared it time for a bedding.

“there will be no bedding!” Cregan boomed, as the men started to approach you.

The room seemed to flinch as the anger in his tone, “my wife will be touched by no one bar me! Anyone who lays a hand on her against her will, will have it cut off!”

You looked at him with shock, it was, grateful he was doing the right thing and saving you from a night of groping.

He reached his hand out to you as he guided you to your now shared chambers alone.

She had never been in Cregan’s chambers before, they were large. Though not as big as her chambers had been on Dragonstone. The room was mostly bare, having been mostly packed up for their journey tomorrow. It was warm, much warmer than her room in the tower had been. With a blazing fire, and dozens of blankets. The walls were filled with tapestries and the floor with rugs. Not a single wall or part of the floor was bare, allowing the room to be encased in more warmth.

“wife” Cregan spoke, capturing your attention. He moved towards you, his eyes heated as he gazed at you.

“Husband” you breathed back as he now stood before you.

He reached up to caress your face, his lips nearing yours. You shared a breath, before you both pounced.

Your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss. He pushed you on the bed, your body bouncing from impact, he quickly moved over you, connecting your lips once more as he started to take of his and your clothes, never once breaking the kiss.

“gods” he moaned at the sight of your bare tits. He kissed your lips quickly before moving down to your breasts and roughly taking them into his mouth.

You moaned as he licked and sucked at your tits. He alternated between the two, savouring in your moans and whimpers.

Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“you lick that?” he asked teasingly, as he let go of your nipple with a pop.

You nodded your head, whimpering slightly at him stopping.

He chuckled, “good” he said before, moving off the bed and resting on his knees “then you’ll love this” he said, as he slid the rest of your dress of you, and buried himself between your thighs.

He teasingly licked your folds, causing you to whimper.

Your gripped his hair, grinding your thighs into his face, trying to get him to lick you more.

He chuckled at your actions, before moving to grip your thighs and pull them towards his face. He buried his tongue inside of you, savouring your taste as he moved to lick your clit.

“Cregan!” you moaned as you pulled on his hair. 

The pleasure was nothing like you had experienced before. It was overwhelming, filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly bring his fingers to your entrance.

He groaned as his fingers entered your, relishing in the tightness of your cunt. Gods” he moaned against your clit.

He continued to lap at your slit, tasting you as if you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“Cregan!” you screamed as your peak finally hit you.

He continued his actions, riding out your peak before finally moving himself from between your thighs.

He wiped his mouth on the bed before diving back in to kiss you.

He slowly moved you to the centre of the bed, his cock positioning itself between your thigs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You moaned as he entered you.

You felt a wave of discomfort as he stretched you out, a slight burn at the sheer size of his cock.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust, before you reached up and pulled him into another kiss, motioning him to speed up.

He started thrusting into you at a faster pace. Your legs wrapping around his hips and his pace became faster and faster.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your second peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock, your second peak taking.

Your hands scratched his back as you peaked, before collapsing backwards, as he started building up to his own peak.

His thrusts became hard and fast as he finally reached his own peak, his seed filling you as he rode out his orgasm.

“gods” he moaned, collapsing on the bed, pulling you in and holding you to him.

he kissed your shoulder, stroking your hair as you both slipped off into sleep, though you both got little sleep that night.

The next day you were awoken to maids barging in and readying the remained of Cregan’s belongings. It was dawn, and you were both tired from the nights events.

 The maids had dressed you both quickly, pushing your breakfast on the table and urging you both to eat.

Cregan laughed at your bewildered face as they all rushed you both.

“we were meant to leave a dawn” he chuckled, as your maid tugged your hair, attempting to braid it, as you ate.

“then why weren’t we woken earlier?”

He sent you a look, showing exactly why they hadn’t.

“oh…must we leave so soon?” you said as you food was taken of the table before you had even finished.

“you insisted we did.”

“I-“ you looked at his smug face as your tea was taken out of your hand mid sip. “I take it back, I miss the bed!”

“you can rest in carriage” he said, as he reached for your hand.

You made your way to the courtyard, the household lined up to say their farewells, though most were accompanying you.

Balea, Rhaena, stood by the carriage, both looking as tired as you felt.

“it is far too early for this” Rhaena groaned as you approached the carriage.

Balea laughed “I cant imagine how you feel” she said, talking at you, “how much sleep did you get last night?” she teased.

You laughed “shut up!”

Sara approached you, her eyes teary, “I’ll miss you” she said pulling you into a hug.

“and I, you” you kissed her check, pulling back.

“we are leaving Winterfell in capable hands” she heard Cregan say, announcing Sara as his regent.

“don’t be gone for too long” she whispered “I was not made to rule the north” she joked, pulling away from you as you were all motioned to enter the carriage.  

Cregan walked up to the carriage window, pulling you into a kiss.

“I shall join you soon” he promised, before mounting his horse and leading the procession to kings landing.

next part

taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @valyriantargaryenblood-blog @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @clobobo @raynetargaryen2 @justbelljust @sukunassfingerr

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to be added to taglist

[lexsssu]

Nature (Neuvillette)

TAGS: Neuvillette/Dragoness!reader, introspection, fluff, parenthood, whipped!Neuvi, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

As Fontaine’s Chief Justice, Neuvillette is all too used to waking up as soon as the first rays of dawn filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows in his bedroom. 

He’s all too used to waking up to an empty bed. 

And for even longer, an empty nest.

Despite being one, if not the last hydro dragon left in Teyvat, he’d never raised hatchlings nor even taken a mate of his own. 

While he could have taken a mortal lover throughout the years, his already suppressed draconic instincts never allowed him even a hint of attraction toward humans. It’s as if what was left of his dragonhood refused to ‘taint’ the dragonsblood that flowed through his veins by taking anything other than a fellow dragon.

After five hundred years of serving as Fontaine’s ludex , he had all but given up ever being able to settle down. 

How could he when his species had all but died off? 

What’s more, the few other survivors were more or less located at the farthest corners of Teyvat.

He must simply content himself with protecting and guiding his people to the best of his ability, especially as he’d reclaimed both his powers and Authority as the Hydro Dragon Sovereign.

If someone told Neuvillette that all his worries were for naught barely a year after he’d become Fontaine’s chief justice and ruler, he’d have thought them mad.

But when the first sight that meets his eyes is your sleeping visage illuminated by the soft morning rays that slid through the tiny gaps in between the curtains, the dragonheart within that had all but given up any hope practically roared to life. He is rendered immobile by your beauty, even as a hint of saliva dripped from your slightly open mouth to reveal a pearly-white fang.

Your own pearlescent scales that decorated the sides of your face and continued below before disappearing below the neckline of your nightgown seemed to shimmer against the light. 

It hits him again that behind closed doors, there is no need for any sort of pretense. Not when you too, were a dragon, a different element for sure, but there is no denying the purity of your blood. He need not hide any part of himself when, for once in his life, there is no need for judgment.

And it is that very same blood that flowed through the veins of your children who chirped from within their large bassinet. 

Your three hatchlings still retained their draconic forms at such an early stage of their life and won’t develop their human forms until they mature into the equivalent of human toddlers.

Like clockwork, Neuvillette rose from the bed and scooped up the three hatchlings who sported a mix of dark blue and silvery-white scales. Dominique, the eldest, was coiled around his right arm, while his second child and only daughter, Odette, draped herself on his neck like an accessory. The youngest, Raphiel, clutched the soft hairs atop his head with his tiny claws and looked around in wonder from such a high vantage point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning, my dearest. I apologize for interrupting your sleep, but it seems our children are in need of nourishment. If it were only possible for me to provide it for them, I wouldn’t have had to cut your slumber short…”

Your sweet laughter is like a balm to his soul, but it’s the peck you press against the corner of his lips that has his inner dragon roaring at him to get started on another batch of hatchlings and the tips of his ears burning a bright red.

Neuvillette hugged Raphiel to his chest, letting his son snooze a bit more while you fed Dominique and Odette from your own.

With your own tail curled around his the whole time, the dragon of water allowed a single tear to slip from his eyes.

[semiweirdshipper]

Killers reactions to doing trials in swimsuits (Hooked on You addition).

Notes: Sfw. Non-binary reader insert.

-

Bubba Sawyer

He's absolutely embarrassed. Ashamed. Humiliated. And disgusted. Not only is nintey percent of his body exposed, but his face is showing as well. While he did find the hot-dog themed swimshorts oddly endearing, the joy was short lived.

During every trial, Bubba spent most of his time hiding his face underneath his straw hat while staying in secluded areas. If anyone tried to approach him, he would rev up his chainsaw to scare them away. Just go away. He didn't want to be seen like this.

While other survivors mocked and made fun of him, you were more understanding.

From a distance, you would call out to him to try and gain his trust and comfort him. Everything was going to be alright, you would say, and you would gently explain to him the severity of completing trials. There was no need to be embarrassed. In fact, you thought he looked cute and handsome.

Bubba found himself motivated and comforted by your words, and soon he began to do the trials without mercy. Anyone who mocked him would be shredded to bits.

Expect lots of half naked hugs and kisses at the end. He was so grateful to you, you have absolutely no idea.

Michael Myers

Is this a joke? Seriously? Is this a joke? Did the Entity really think this was funny?

Michael, not only frustrated by the lack of shoes and warm clothing, was utterly infuriated. Stomping around in orange and black swim-trunks with a literal, broken shell to stab people with, it was safe to say that Michael's attitude became even more brutal.

Another aspect that angered him was how almost every survivor began to tease and flirt with him as if he were some piece of candy. Some of them even tried to touch him, but their greedy paws would be quickly lacerated.

This lack of respect made him so angry that he began to commit overkill in every single trial. However... There was one survivor who didn't treat him any differently when he had to wear his swimsuit.

You.

As if nothing had changed, you treated him with respect. You didn't tease him, stare at him, touch him or try to flirt. Instead you did the trial like you were supposed to and minded his severe fits of rage. Michael even suspected that you might have been helping him to kill other survivors...

In an act of appreciation, Michael let you live most trials, and he hardly ever harmed you. After this entire event, he might even cling to you a little bit more.

Pinhead/Elliot Spencer

Was it a swimsuit? Or some kind of bizarre bedroom cosplay?

Pinhead's "swimsuit" was an array of harnesses that covered his chest, thighs and hips. Small chains hung from his nipples, and only a leather, black speedo with matching chains covered his crotch. His thoughts?

It was actually kind of nice.

No opened wounds, no cuts, and no bones or flesh hanging out? Pinhead could do with that. Sure he still had his pins and piercings, but he had adapted to those. And while it did get cold some times, nothing really changed. He was used to pain and rough environments.

But it was kind of annoying to witness the mixed reactions from the survivors. Some acted out in disgust and others in desire or mockery. Pinhead didn't let it get to him much and simply did the trials as he was supposed to.

Though he did notice that your desire towards him had heightened, and you became more eager to hide and run away from him during trials. It was amusing. He had always tried to get you to accept his offers for pleasure, but you were too shy and scared. But now?

Call it immature, but Pinhead was loving hunting you down and giving you no choice but to look at him. The feel of your desire and innocence was so endearing to him, he couldn't help but to playfully torture you.

Perhaps soon you would break under the pressure and accept his offers?

Evan MacMillan

Screw the Entity. Screw the survivors. And screw this stupid, dumb, ridiculous swimsuit!

If anyone thought they had seen Evan angry before, then they'd better think again. Because this time? This time he was absolutely furious. Why?

Try accidentally stepping in a trap with no boots on. Try doing a trial in Ormond. Try getting outrun constantly. And try getting grabbed and gawked at all the time.

It was safe to say that Evan's behavior during trials became increasingly dangerous when he wore his striped swimsuit. Many survivors teased about the size of his bulge and made a habit to try and grab him for fun. The outcome? Certain, painful death.

Evan was tired of this stupid situation.

The only break he got was when he had trials with you. Finally, someone who didn't play the "ball grabbing game" and actually did the trial accordingly. He respected you for that. And the fact that you didn't treat him any differently than normal was also appreciated.

If ever Evan came across you in a trap, he pretended to overlook you and simply walked by. You seemed to notice this as well, and soon you began to actively help him trap your perverted team members.

Hmp. You were pretty awesome, you know? He could hang with you.

Albert Wesker

The Entity really needed to work on it's fashion skills. Honestly. Did it really think this was his style? First off, the shorts were too colorful and far, far too short and tight. Wedgie much? Also, what cheap sunglasses. And why the silky black button-up and neck bandana? And were those... Flip-flops?

Most trials, Albert felt quite embarrassed and rather ridiculous, but he did good not to show it. While few survivors did make fun of him, he simply snapped back and told them not to be so jealous. And the other survivors?

The other survivors acted like he was made out of gold and jewels.

Eventually Albert grew to enjoy the attention. Of course he'd rile up this many survivors. How couldn't he? He was handsome and toned and oh so sexy. It was only natural that everyone either be jealous or attracted to him.

Except... You.

You didn't pay any attention to him. You made no faces, no comments and no reactions. Even when he tried teasing you, you wouldn't really respond with anything other than annoyance. And that bothered him.

Soon you became his top priority in every trial. While it was irritating that you didn't respond to his obvious charm, he did find it fascinating. It meant that your mind worked differently and you didn't let yourself get distracted. You were actually becoming super attractive to him.

He wanted to see how far he could go with you.

Pyramid Head

Let's put it bluntly. His swimsuit... Was seaweed. Yes, seaweed, with a dash of barnacles and slug shells here and there. He looked like a monster that crawled out of the ocean. And did this astonishing array of seaweed stay in place very long? No. No it did not.

The Executioner didn't care about clothing though. He was used to being barefoot and half naked. Natural elements didn't bother him that much. This fishy "swimsuit" was nothing more than an obstacle and a gift.

See, of course the survivors were going crazy because of his exposed body, but that only made it easier to kill them when they tried to get too close. It was so convenient that the Executioner didn't even have to fight much anymore, the survivors just came right to him to be killed.

The Executioner knew that it was perversion and desire that brought the survivors to him, but he wasn't interested in any of them. The only thing he did in response to their attraction was kill them.

But you? You were different.

You did have desire for him, but also respect and modesty. You put the trial and your objectives first, and you stayed composed when coming into contact with him. It was such an astonishing strength. The Executioner couldn't help but to envy you.

Maybe some time in the future he could approach you with his real face and show you gratitude for how well you behaved during this outlandish experience?

-

And that's how they became... Hooked on You!

[hotshotsxyz]

Perhaps some Buddie “I didn’t know where else to go” if you so wish? Love your writing!!

(buddie) (975 words) (edit: now featuring eddie pov!)

cw: vague description of a very bad car accident

Buck is exhausted and aching and, at this exact moment, extremely confused.

Eddie, illuminated only by the flashing blue and red of the police car idling in his driveway, looks wrecked. The phone pressed to his ear slides through his fingers and clatters to the ground.

“Buck,” he says, only it sounds less like his name and more like a sob.

He launches himself forward and wraps Buck in a hug so tight it hurts. He presses his hand to the back of Buck’s head and buries his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. A shaky exhale ghosts across his skin.

“Eddie,” Buck says, tentatively returning the hug, “what—what’s wrong?”

A choked sob wracks his body.

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, alarmed. “What is it? Is Chris—“

“No,” Eddie gasps, “no, it’s—“ Another sob interrupts his speech. He doesn’t let go.

“Eddie, what?” Buck asks desperately.

He pulls back, just far enough to look Buck in the eye. His cheeks are tear stained and red and Buck’s really starting to panic because he’s only ever seen him like this once and—

“I thought— you— god, Buck, I thought you were—“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re here,” he says shakily.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Buck replies helplessly.

Eddie takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.  “I saw—it was on the news. They weren’t sure there were any survivors,” he whispers.

Buck’s stomach drops. “Eddie,” he says, unable to keep the devastation out of his voice.

“And then your Jeep was—“ Eddie continues haltingly. “I tried to call you.”

“I lost my phone,” Buck breathes. “I—I’m sorry.”

“God, Buck, you don’t need to—fuck.” Eddie lets go of him and drags his fingers through the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You’re here,” he says, something like wonder coloring his tone, “that’s everything.”

All at once, the exhaustion that’s settled into his bones threatens to bowl him over. “Can we—“ He gestures to the still open door.

“Yeah, of course, I—“ Eddie takes another breath and grabs Buck’s wrist.

Buck scoops Eddie’s phone up off the stoop and allows himself to be pulled into the living room.

“Was it as bad as it looked?” Eddie asks quietly once they’ve settled on the couch.

“Worse, probably,” Buck admits.

Black tags had outnumbered the green three to one. He’d’ve been one, probably, if his Jeep hadn’t gotten pinned between a Prius and the guard wall. The several minutes it took him to shatter his windshield and clamber out were the only thing between him and the tanker when it exploded.

By the time the 136 arrived, there wasn’t much left to save.

Eddie takes Buck’s face in his hands and tips forward until their foreheads touch. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“I got lucky,” Buck replies. So fucking lucky.

“Thank you for coming here,” Eddie clarifies.

“Where else?” Buck asks.

Eddie tenses. “Shit,” he says. “Your sister.”

For a moment, he doesn’t understand, but then Eddie’s scrambling for his phone and it hits him like a ton of bricks. She must think—

The call connects before the first ring finishes.

“Eddie,” Maddie gasps down the line, “is—“

“It’s me,” Buck says quickly. “I’m fine, Maddie, I’m okay.”

“Oh thank god,” Maddie says. Her voice cracks, and with it, Buck’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. A tear slips down his cheek.

“Evan,” Maddie says, and yeah, that just about covers it.

“We need to call Bobby too,” Eddie says, a little mechanically.

“Of course,” Maddie says. “Thank you,” she continues in a rush. “Thank you both.”

The call ends and Buck takes a shaky breath. “You all saw it?” he asks.

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, just— just me.” He stares down as his white-knuckled hands. “When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I…” Eddie trails off.

On instinct, Buck takes one of his hands. “I’m okay,” he says quietly.

“Let me—after we call Bobby?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods. “You can make sure,” he whispers.

With shaking hands, Eddie navigates to Bobby’s contact and taps call.

“Bobby,” Buck says as soon as it connects.

“Kid,” Bobby answers with palpable relief.

“I’m okay,” Buck continues. “I’m with Eddie,” he adds unnecessarily.

“That’s— thank God,” he says emphatically. “Athena!” He calls out, a little muffled.

Buck swallows harshly. “I’m sorry I scared everyone,” he says.

“You’re okay,” Bobby says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

Eddie meets Buck’s eye and gives him a slow nod.

“Okay,” Buck says. “Okay.”

He talks to Bobby and Athena for another few minutes while Eddie grabs his first aid kit from the bathroom. It takes him a little longer than it should, and when he comes back, his eyes are a little more red and swollen.

They end the call and Buck lets himself be manipulated into a better position for Eddie to check him out. His eyes slip shut as Eddie methodically checks his vitals.

“Shirt,” Eddie says quietly after a few minutes, pressing his palm gently to the center of Buck’s chest.

Buck dutifully sheds his jacket and pulls the t-shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off, Eddie sucks in a sharp breath.

“That bad?” Buck asks.

Eddie reaches out and trails a gentle finger along the already purpling bruise that stretches diagonally across his torso. He shakes his head.

“It could be a lot worse,” he murmurs. His expression shifts minutely, and he swallows.

Buck catches his hand and presses it to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m alive.”

Eddie closes his eyes and brings his other hand to Buck’s cheek. “I don’t want to say it like this,” he says.

“Eddie,” Buck replies. He aches.

“But…” he continues. “Stay?”

“Always,” Buck breathes.

Eddie pulls him into another tight hug. His shoulders shake.

[neuvistar]

aventurine x fem!reader. cw. some hsr leak spoilers? + a lil rushed | not proofread, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancies, use of nicknames (feminine terms too, wife.. etc), minors dni. ( this is another aventurine thirst.. slight spoilers(?) r in the beginning!!)

aventurine was the last of his kind, he acknowledged that often. his people, oh his people.. many of the innocent lives of his people were lost, like a baby losing its mother. he knew there was no use in trying to look if there were still survivors, it’s truly no use. he was the last of his kind. and he spent countless days, hours, weeks, months and maybe years thinking he’d die alone, with nobody by his side.. chained to the life of a loner, who is forced to live knowing he couldn’t save anyone of his kind.. chained to a life where people all around him hated his guts.

that was until he met you, his pretty little wife.

aventurine’s always wanted kids, to say the least. not only to restore his kind, but to raise children with you, take them out to parks.. realize the true importance and meaning of a love of a father.

aventurine’s heart belonged to you completely, he couldn’t remember the last time he’s been happy like this.. he loved you with all his heart and it showed. aventurine would kiss you, hug you and rub your belly.. whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “one day.. your tummy will be ready and full of my younglings, my darling wife. are you excited for that day?” you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you gave him a playful smack on the arm. “you’re getting too excited, ‘turine. i’m not even pregnant yet.”

“yet.” aventurine’s hands eagerly made their way down, tracing the shape of your body. "beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. "you’re so beautiful, i can't help but touch you. my future younglings are so lucky to have such a pretty mother.” his fingers lingered on your breasts, savoring the feeling of their soft weight in his palms. aventurine's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smoldering intensity in their depths. "i want a daughter with your eyes.. and your beauty, a son with your intelligence.. please. i need it all.” honestly, he’s probably so whiny n desperate all the time, always talking about getting you pregnant.. wanting to see you carry his offsprings, he wanted to restore his happiness and your own.

“mm, i know you don't want me to stop, don’t you?" aventurine’s voice was husky with desire. his hands slipped lower, tracing their way down to your lower abdomen, teasingly brushing against your wet panties. "i’ve been imagining this all night long.. watching you care for our baby girl or baby boy,” he reached beneath your panties, toying with your folds with the tip of his fingers while the others pinch and pull at your nipples. “.. you know i can't stand it anymore, baby. not when you know how much i want to claim you right here, right now. i want children, pretty girl. can.. we?”

“please.” you murmured. a grin emerged from his pretty face, eyes widened as he felt the warmth radiating from between your legs, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, his mouth watering at the familiar scent. He couldn't help but lick his lips as he continued to rub his hand against your sensitive folds, his thumb brushing against your clit. leaning closer, aventurine pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue slowly making its way past your parted lips, exploring your mouth hungrily. there was one thing and one thing only in his mind, he was gonna breed you full tonight. your husband’s hand moved up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, causing you to moan even louder. your body arched into his touch, begging for more..

“so beautiful.. so perfect. such a pretty little thing for me,” aventurine grunted as he continued to thrust in and out of your wet cunt, his cock stretching your walls further than you have ever experienced before. the blonde wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up slightly to better angle his thrusts. "i’ll treat you so good, dollface, our little babies are gonna have such a great father, believe me honey.” he panted, his breath hot against your neck. “fuck, ‘turine.. feels too good..” your nails dug deep into his shoulders, leaving shallow marks as you could almost see the stars, biting your lip to suppress the soft whines that threatened to leave your lips. “i know honey, i know it feels good,” aventurine knew he could feel his release building up inside of him, it’s like he buried himself within you to the absolute hilt, his cockhead rubbing against your sweetest spots. “god, i can’t wait for your pregnancy to bloom, dollface.. just like a fuckin’ flower.” his member throbbed and pulsed violently, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through both of you.

“can you feel it, doll? my love for you? can you feel it?” you nodded eagerly, your face pressed close against his neck with your eyes sealed shut. “i’m gonna get you pregnant, kay? ‘gonna fill you up like its no tomorrow.. make my dreams come true. ‘can't wait to see my little ones inside you, honey.. i’ll take care of you.”

well.. it’s best to say that maybe he’s finally not gonna be the last of his kind any time soon.

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Medusa

Summary: When Fury calls you into his office, you expected to be in trouble not to be offered a spot on the team with the Avengers. Unfortunately, you have a secret you want no one to know about.

Relationships: Avenger x reader (platonic)

Warnings: implied sexual assault, reader is a mutant (similar powers to Mystic), memory loss, mention of death, protective Avengers, fluff, small amount of angst

Medusa tattoo is often interpreted as representing strength, power, and female empowerment. More specifically, some people get a medusa tattoo to indicate that they are a survivor of sexual violence and to symbolize their own empowerment

You thought you were getting fired when Fury called you into his office. You racked your brain for any possibilities that could have led you here. All your mission reports were completed and handed in. You passed your certifications with flying colors. Maybe that dipshit agent reported you. What was his name? Tom? His hand drifted a little too low for your liking during training, and you punched him in the dick. Maria didn’t even bat an eye as he rolled around the ground in pain. “Why do you look nervous?” The director asked.

“Am I in trouble, sir?” You questioned. He folded his hands and rested them on his desk.

“Did you do something that would warrant you being in trouble?” You shrugged. The man rolled his one good eye and pointed to the chair. You sat down, a knot still formed in your stomach. “The Avengers have a mission, and I think your skill sets would be helpful.” He handed you a mission report. You opened it and glanced at it. There wasn’t a lot to go on. The Avengers were looking to get into a HYDRA base that was continuing experiments on misguided individuals. The problem was they needed to find out where the facility was located.

“In 3 days, there will be a party in DC where a few suspected HYDRA personnel will be there,” Fury explained. You looked at the man, still confused about why he believed you were the right agent for the job. “The team has someone in custody invited to the party.” There it was. You closed the file and handed it back to him.

“Do they know?” The question was burning on your tongue since he said you would be joining the team.

“Do you think I’d tell them?” The man looked offended. He was the only one that knew of the scars that covered your body. “No, they only know of your skills as an agent.”

“Nick,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. You were the only one that called him that. He took on a father role when he found you. Instead of turning you in, he adopted you.

“Jr,” he rounded his desk to stand before you. “I wouldn’t have suggested you if you weren’t ready.” You looked at him. His one good eye softened slightly.

“When do I leave?” A smile formed on the man’s usually stoic face.

“As soon as possible. Maria is waiting for you at the compound.” You smiled; at least you would have a familiar face there. “You got this kid.”

*

“There she is!” Maria was quick to rush over to you and bring you into a hug. You saw Natasha walk over to you behind her shoulder. “The big man finally let you join the big leagues, uh, jr?” You rolled your eyes. Maria always liked to tease that you were Fury’s only soft spot. Hell, you were her soft spot, too. Once the agent released you from the bone-crushing hug, you faced the Black Widow.

“Natasha,” she offered her hand, and you shook it. Of course, you knew who she was. “Maria has not stopped talking about you.” You glanced at the agent, but she shrugged her shoulders. “She called you, Jr.,” the Black Widow slowly said. Are your parents agents?” Maria snorted but covered it up with a cough.

“Technically, yes,” you said. The redhead gave you a look for you to continue. “The director adopted me when I was 14.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and her head snapped to look at Maria. The agent cringed slightly. You knew the duo were dancing around being in a relationship- many SHIELD agents talked about it. “It was need to know,” you said. “He didn’t want certain people to find out.” It was understandable. The man had a long list of enemies. Maria put her arm around your shoulders.

“The team is waiting to meet you,” she said. “Are you ready to show them what you can do?” You weren’t 100% sure if you were.

*

“This is the agent the pirate wanted us to bring onto the team,” Tony said as you entered the meeting room. There was an empty seat next to Wanda; you took it with a smile. “She’s a kid.”

“So is Peter, and you let him on the team,” Maria defended.

“I’d be carefully talking about Fury,” Natasha smirked. “You are looking at his kid.” The billionaire’s jaw dropped. You shrugged.

“I didn’t know he had it in him to reproduce,” the comment got him a quick smack to the back of the head by Rhodey. You cringed even though he adopted you, the idea- Nope. Not happening.

“Ignore him,” Steve said. “We are excited to have you on the team.” You smiled at the blonde super-solider.

“Director Fury was unclear on what you could provide for this mission,” Vision said. You made eye contact with Maria, who winked at you. “Can you provide some insight?”

“I’m enhanced,” you said. “I spent time with Charles Xavier to get it under control.”

“Can you show us what you can do?” Sam questioned. You smiled and nodded.

“Maria, pick one of them,” the agent smirked and pointed to Steve. Sighing, you stood up and walked over to the super soldier. He rolled back in his chair away from the table. All you did was hold out your hand. “It won’t hurt.”

“Will it hurt you?” he countered. His statement made you frown. That was different. No one ever asked how your abilities affected you. You shook your head. It never hurt, but it left you disoriented. Steve hesitated but connected his hand with yours. Nothing happened, and you dropped his hand. Then you changed.

You remembered a time before Fury sent you off to Xavier. Every time you grabbed onto someone’s hand, you changed. Now, you can control it and only use your powers when you want to.

No matter how many times you did this, you found it fascinating. You saw the world differently each time. Now, with the super soldier senses, the world seemed sharper. Steve was taller and stronger than you. It felt strange being him.

“Holy fuck.”

“Language,” you said in Steve’s voice. The color was drained from the man’s face as he saw himself in front of him. You looked at Maria with a slight nod, and she knew what you were asking for. She’s seen your powers with Fury.

“Jr, what program did Steve enter to receive the serum?”

“Project Rebirth. I was the only recipient of the serum developed by Abraham Erskine,” you answered. That was an easy question. An answer was easily found in his file or at the museum.

“What are we looking at here?” Rhodey asked. You looked back at Steve.

“Ask me something personal,” you spoke in your voice. He stared at you before his eyes landed on the soldier across from him.

“The fight where I first met Bucky, why did I pick a fight with them?” You smiled.

“They demanded a fee for crossing Tenth Avenue,” you wink before changing back. You watched as your skin bubbled, and then it stopped. “The director said you have someone in custody attending a party you need information from. I can get you that information.” Watching people learn what you could do was always interesting—a range of emotions passed through their faces- amazement, fear, worry.

“How long does it last?” Natasha questioned. She was looking at you with fear even though she masked it well.

“As long as I want it to,” you sat back down. “In 15 minutes, once I stop using it, all your thoughts, memories, and secrets leave my head.” You saw everyone relax.

“How did you get this ability?” You shrugged at Wanda’s question.

“I don’t know,” you traced the groves off the wood. “Not even the director knows. I guess it will forever be a mystery.”

Living and training with the Avengers challenged you. They pushed you harder in training, and you felt yourself growing stronger every day. However, they challenged you to be more social. You were an introvert by nature, afraid to gain the trust of those around you. Your mind might not remember what you were put through, but your body told a different story. Scars covered your body, which was then covered with tattoos.

The team was used to seeing you train in a long-sleeve shirt, never a tank top or sports bra like Natasha or Wanda. No matter how much sweat dripped down your back, you stayed in the long-sleeve shirt. It only came off when you were in the shower or the comfort of your room. They never asked, never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. They provided you with an extra bottle of water or a hug if you wanted one.

Early on, you also learned they were highly protective over you since you were the youngest full-time member. Even at the HYDRA party, that went well, and you retrieved the information they fused over you. To your surprise, they kept you on the team and didn’t send you back to SHIELD with Fury’s permission. You were enjoying your time with them, your secrets trapped away until they came tumbling out.

*

You thought you were in the clear. The rest of the team watched a movie, and you told everyone you were too tired. However, you left your room and headed to the training area. All you wanted to do was work up a sweat and then go to bed. So you punched at the sandbag, only wearing a sports bra and sweatpants—the rock music you played in your ears blocked out the world around you. You focused on how your knuckles ached at each punch and the beating of your heart behind your ribs. You loved training. It was a simple reminder that you were alive.

It happens on instinct. You felt a hand on your shoulder and grabbed it, flipping whoever it was over and onto their back. The culprit was Sam. You pulled your headphones out of your ears and heard the pained groan the man let out. “Fuck, Sam, you can’t sneak up on me.” You knelt in front of him. “What hurts? Do you want me to get Bruce? How many fingers am I holding up?” He groaned again.

“The only thing that hurts is my pride,” he sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “I like your tattoos. I didn’t know you had any.” You sat down as your hand shook. You were so caught up on making sure he was okay that you forgot about the little clothes you were wearing. He saw them, all of them. Did he know what they meant? “Hey, jr, are you okay? You’re shaking.” You snapped out of it.

“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” you chuckled. He rolled his eyes and reassured you that he was fine. “But wait, aren’t you guys watching a movie? Why are you here?”

“We are watching a movie, and I suggested we have ice cream,” which was no surprise. The world’s mightiest heroes had the worst diets and the craziest sweet tooth. “I drew the short stick of finding you to see if you want any.” Sam stood up and rubbed his butt. “And my ass took one for the team.” You took his outstretched hand he offered you and helped you up. “So, do you want ice cream?”

“No, I’m good.” You wanted to get some air. He frowned.

“Are you sure? You never say no to ice cream. I’m not upset about what happened. We can keep it between us. Please.” You hated how easily it was for him to make you smile.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you began to unwrap your hands. “Have a good night, Sam.” You threw the tap in the trash can on your way out.

*

“Did she want any?” Natasha looked away from her bowl to see Sam without you. He shook his head. “The more of us!” Tony cheered. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Did you know Jr. has tattoos?” She heard Maria drop her spoon in the bowl, and the agent looked confused.

“How many?” Bucky asked. Sam was constructing his ice cream bowl. He topped it with whipped cream before he answered.

“Her entire right arm is covered. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but on her back was a portrait of Medusa.” Natasha’s stomach dropped. The ice cream she was eating no longer tasted sweet. It was bitter, and it made her stomach turn.

“Medusa?” Wanda questioned. “Are you sure?” Sam chuckled.

“Kind of hard to miss. It’s massive with all the snakes and shit. A little creepy if you ask me.”

“Why would she get a Medusa tattoo?” Rhodey asked. But Natasha knew. It seemed Wanda and Maria knew as well. The three girls dropped their bowls on the nearest surface and left the group. Each one ignored the shots of their names.

“FRIDAY, where is Jr?”

*

Your feet skimmed the water below. The cold summer air caused goosebumps to form on your arm. You had no reason to wear a jacket once you left the training area. If Sam knew everyone else was going to find out. “Hey, Jr,” Maria’s voice made you smile. “Can we join you?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. Maria sat on your right and Wanda on your left. Natasha took the empty spot next to Maria. “They guys didn’t want to join you on a midnight walk.” You tried to joke.

“They are eating their weight in ice cream,” you heard the smile in Natasha’s voice. “I also don’t think they know what it means.” Right. The tattoo of Medusa is on your back, and her Roman story is detailed on your arm. Medusa was a devoted follower of Minerva. She left offerings and offerings to the goddess but was never acknowledged by her. Then, another god wanted her attention: Neptune. The god rapped Medusa in Minerva’s temple, and in revenge, the goddess turned Medusa’s beautiful head of hair into snakes.

“I don’t remember getting the tattoos,” you broke the silence. “I don’t remember much of my life before Nick found me.”

“He found you when you were 14, right?” Wanda questioned. You nodded.

“He says I had them when he found me,” you shivered and soon felt the jacket Maria was wearing around your shoulders. “He was in Ukraine, outside of Lviv, for a mission or something, when he found me in a field surrounded by dead bodies,” you played with the sleeves of the jacket. “We think they are the ones that hurt me. Nick took me in without hesitation. He saved my life,” you sighed, placing your head on Wanda’s shoulder. “I kept them hidden, not wanting people to question or bring attention to them.”

“You don’t have to hide them around us,” Maria said, slowly taking your hand in hers. “You can if you want, but we will never judge or hurt you like they did.”

“I could help you find answers if you ever want to know the truth,” Honestly, the truth scared you. You were already so broken. What if it broke you even more? “You are not broken,” Wanda whispered. It was hard for you to believe that.

“Sometimes I get flashes of what happened to me. Mostly in the form of nightmares. I’m not sure what’s worse than my body knows something bad happened to me, but my mind doesn’t remember it.”

“I think that you had to endure the pain, which is the worst,” Natasha spoke softly. You looked at the Black Widow, who was staring at the water. It was rare that her voice was that soft.

“Do you ever wonder why it was you?” you asked her. You watched her body shake as she exhaled. Maria placed her hand on Natasha’s thigh.

“All the time, but you’ll go mad thinking about the what ifs,” she glanced at you with a smile. “I’ve learned rather painfully that hiding away what happened or pretending it never happened hurts more in the long run.” The redhead placed her hand on top of Maria’s. “You aren’t broken, weak, or lesser because of what they did to you. You are stronger because you are still here despite all of it.” It was like she was telling you these things but reminding herself. You nodded and found yourself looking back at the water. The world was unfair, cruel, and twisted. These women, whom you grew to admire, knew the pain you experienced in some way and the story behind the tattoos that covered your body. How many others experienced it as well?

Hurried footsteps forced you to stand up and turn around. It was Bucky, and you were surprised by the force that he had hugged you, almost sending you into the water. Bucky was never known for his physical affection. He showed that he cared in much smaller ways, with a small smile and a cup of hot chocolate when you had nightmares. Even in training, he ensured your stance was correct and that you were training at your best. Now you weren’t sure if you could go a day without a hug from him. He was warm and strong, and you felt safe. “Do you know who did it?” Your body tensed.

“They are dead, Buck.”

“Good,” he kissed the top of your head. “I’d go Winter Solider on their asses for you, doll.” You laughed and shook your head. “Also, sorry about this.” Before you could question his meaning, he picked you up and threw you into the water. You breached the surface with a gasp.

“What the-”

“Cannonball,” you heard Tony yell. It was the only warning you got as the billionaire ran down the dock and jumped into the water. The splash wet those on the edge, and you heard Natasha yell at him. He resurfaced and shook the water.

“I am sorry, darling,” you watched Vision pick up Wanda.

“Vis, no! No!” But it was useless. The android dropped her into the water next. You laughed, the sound echoing into the night. Bucky smiled, gave you a salute, and jumped in. One by one, the team entered the water by either being thrown in or jumping themselves.

A massive water fight broke out, and FRIDAY brightened the surrounding area so everyone could see. You weren’t sure how long the team was in the water, but you were the last one floating on your back. “Hey, Jr,” you looked at Natasha. A towel was wrapped around her shoulders. “We are having smores. Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” you swam over to the dock and pulled yourself up. Natasha put her arm around you.

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled.

“I’m proud of you too.” Yes, the world was evil, cruel, and dark, but your family made it a little brighter.

[lopsicle]

Arcane season 2 spoilers

/////

I have been thinking A LOT about Jayce and Viktor, mainly the scene where Viktor is reborn out of his pod of Hexcore.

Mainly because it means a lot for Viktor’s character. On a fundamental level, he never seen much worth in himself, but he did see worth in inventions, the things he made, it’s how he could prove himself to the world. This is why he becomes so concerned with his illness and the legacy he’ll leave behind on the world; he needs the Hexcore to work because he doesn’t have anything else.

But now, he is literally fused with his invention, his invention that he has grown to hate because it killed one of the only people who truly saw value in Viktor, and not the things he could, partly due to his own negligence. Viktor put it best, in his pursuit of greatness, he failed to do good.

He doesn’t really know how to process what happened to him at all, he’s a smart man, he can clearly deduce that his body has undergone some cybernetic change, he can probably remember the explosion in the council room, but other then that, he’s just confused, hence why he asks Jayce, “what am I?” Viktor’s body is entirely different and unfamiliar, and taking into context that the Hexcore, his greatest invention which he tied all his worth to, has failed before this, it’s likely Viktor had lost sight of who he was, and his new body only served to further that descent.

Jayce can’t think about any of that though, he’s just happy that his partner is alive and who wouldn’t be, he’d been waiting for days, possibly weeks for him to wake. Viktor’s mortality is one of the things that Jayce has struggled with the most in the series, which is what makes his survivor’s guilt so much more pertinent. A lot of people claim that Jayce grew up rich and coddled, and I think that’s true to an extent, but they forgot his family were workers, tool smiths. Jayce seemed to grow up with the idea that he wasn’t that fortunate, that he was a working, middle class man who was going to change the world, and then he meets Viktor, a “poor cripple from the Undercity,” and then he sees what the Undercity is really like and the conditions people live in. And that’s when Jayce realises; he had it good. I believe this is what encourages part of his admiration of Viktor; he is what Jayce thought he was.

Tangent aside, I feel that their hug is a very, very important moment, mainly because of Viktor’s reaction.

He isn’t relieved or uncomfortable, it’s just…nothing. Given what Viktor says about how he doesn’t feel that it’s cold and just recognises that it is cold, I believe this is the moment where it fully sank in how much his body had changed. He couldn’t feel Jayce.

And like, first off, that is such beautiful symbolism for what he says later about how they’re relationship was only held together by affection. Viktor physically cannot feel said affection anymore and know has no reason to stick by the side of someone whose views have become so contrasted to his. But more emotionally, it’s representative of Viktor’s belief that he is unloveable, his new body is merely proof at that, he can’t touch Jayce, he couldn’t save Sky, he couldn’t make the Hexcore work properly, he couldn’t even get Jayce to destroy the Hexcore. To himself, Viktor is a failure who is unworthy of love.

But, he still huge Jayce back. Despite not being able to feel Jaycee’s warmth anymore, despite it feeling like his whole life has crumbled, Viktor wants to give Jayce one last act of service. Perhaps to prove that he still has use, or maybe this was the moment where he decided he would have to part ways with Jayce, and just wanted Jayce to remember his touch, even if Viktor couldn’t remember his.

Anywho if enough people like this dribble, I may post my take on the rest of this scene because it shattered me

[slackerlifewhere]

TCF is all about healing

- This is a review about the novel.

There's possible SPOILERS for readers who haven't finished reading the first volume.

___

When I first picked up the novel, I didn't have high expectations. After reading a lot of stories that end up disappointing me because of how the author eventually adds romance or harems into the story because their main character apparently needs a romantic relationship to feel good about themselves, I thought that Trash of the Count's Family will be the same thing further down the line.

But damn, did the author prove me wrong.

In the first few chapters, the novel's entire vibe was almost unnoticeable. Sure, there were some small details like him not being used to extravagant clothes or finding a simple meal delicious, but it wasn't obvious. It made me raise my eyebrow but I simply thought that he's a simple salaryman or something.

The first lines about him not having anyone who would miss him if he's gone in his previous world can be excused as him having no lingering attachments. And honestly, some transmigration/isekai stories do have their main characters having no attachments in their previous world. So it makes sense and it didn't alert me of what could've possibly happened to Cale, former Kim Rok Soo, for him to be so aloof and calm at the forced transmigration.

And then...he thought about poverty and pity when interacting with On and Hong. That was the first sign that he may have left a few lines out of his introduction.

It steadily got worse when he was talking to Choi Han about him being used to the cruelty of people like Venion. And then, at the first meeting with Raon, he appeared as if he understood the hopelessness of a child under an abusive adult's hand.

That's when I finally thought that TCF is a story about healing. And I was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there's action, drama, and comedy, but TCF is mainly about moving on or healing from past hurts. There are moments when it can be called "cliche" but TCF is unique in the way it portrays Cale and his relationships. There's the found family trope that I love but what I love the most about the story is how these characters who have lost something or were about to lose something if OG Cale didn't make the deal with God of Death to have KRS replace him, is slowly understanding that they're not alone and that they can improve as a person if given the chance.

It's heart-warming and completely unexpected. I didn't read the first chapter expecting this fantasy-themed action novel to be about this.

OG Cale, Choi Han, Raon, On and Hong, Lock, Taylor and Cage, Alberu, the Dark Elves, Mary, and so many characters paved the way for me to completely fall in love with this novel.

If I sound like I'm exaggerating, then I don't care because this novel is just beautiful.

What completely blew my mind is the final reveal of Cale's past as Kim Rok Soo.

Listen, I have a love-hate relationship with KR survival novels involving monsters and dungeons and the freaking apocalypse. I love some of them and I can't stand the others. But I did not expect that Kim Rok Soo was in a world trying to survive from the effects of the apocalypse.

My first reaction was "What the actual fuck" because I 100% did not expect for the story to go that way. And my second thought was "So that's why!" Because it finally explains why he hates "papercuts"! This guy is so good at making big things about himself sound so small that it left me stunned when the big reveal happened!

I wanna slap him and hug him at the same time.

It explains why he's so good at being a commander. It explains why he's used to getting hurt or why he hates the thought of his friends and family dying with him as the survivor (I believe he has a survivor's guilt?). It explains everything.

He may be in a new world but he's still stuck in his past no matter how much he says about not thinking about what-ifs and his past. The time he spends in this new world is him slowly realizing that he's not alone and he doesn't have to be so scared.

And when I finally thought that I'm done being surprised, OG Cale appears and flips everything I knew about the character. They talk about how content they are with their new identities. They smile. They're happy. And that proves why this novel is about healing and not the simple transmigration novel full of action and comedy. Instead of getting angry at Kim Rok Soo, former Cale Henituse, for the deal with God of Death, he's just happy for the man and for himself. I just love how the author doesn't forget about Kim Rok Soo's sacrifices and rewards him with a happy life with his mother.

It's so hard not to finish the novel within weeks because of how good it is. It can be fast in some parts for the action, which makes sense since everything is happening at once. But there are also slow emotional moments that keep reminding me why I love this novel.

So yeah, this is my review about TCF. It's not a perfect novel but it's a good novel about healing and family. And I'm waiting for the second volume to be done so I can finally read the rest.

[tornado1992]

Sonic is acting strange.

From the moment he entered the cave at the top of the mountain and going on even after Shadow finished the battle, he was more energetic, talking faster than usual, to his friends’s eyes happier than they had ever seen him before. But deep inside his mind and heart, he felt more melancholic than anything.

Rouge said something about to going visit Shadow, wherever he’d gone, though it’s not probable that Shadow would gift her a powerful gem of inter dimensional proportions, it’s still a possibility. He finds himself comfortable with the idea of either of them guarding it, after all, Shadow would never let it bring chaos to their lives again, and now he knows Rouge it’s a better leader than he could ever be, they both would make the right call.

Sparring with Knuckles was as much of a way to get the stress out of his system as it is a reminder that the guardian isn’t a glory driven danger prone sailor, nor a extremely paranoid jungle survivor, and definitely not a soldier willing to hit an 8 year old if it means saving the world, no, he’s just Knucks. Ready to put him back in his tracks every time he goes off, same old Knucklehead.

Asking Amy to help him bake a cake to celebrate their victory on the mountain took her by surprise, not expecting Sonic to have the consideration or patience to think about and prepare that kind of gift just so their friends would enjoy it together. But what really shook her to the core was how many times he thanked her through the making, in his mind just one of those “thank you” was for the cake, the rest of them were for everything else.

Tails knows Sonic is acting strange.

it wasn’t just the sudden consideration on his words and actions, but also the eagerness to just spend time with them, an insane amount of time in which he paid attention to everyone and everything, he looked to the sea as if it was more of a new racetrack than an obstacle to his speed, he turned his sight to the sky as if he’d forgotten it was blue, and gazed to the palm trees as if he’d never seen one before. But most of it all, between his friends and the rest of the world, Sonic was looking at him.

It wasn’t the normal look he’d give him everyday, being the only one Sonic hadn’t been alone with since the mountain battle was weird enough, they would usually race and joke together after every battle, but not this time; Sonic was actively keeping him at arms length while never getting his eyes off of him, It didn’t matter who was Sonic talking to or what was he doing, if Tails was around, he was looking at him.

Every time he was smiling he would look back to see if he was smiling too, when one of his friends tried to approach him Sonic would instantly get in their way without any more reason than to talk to them, if there was a sudden movement or loud noise Sonic would turn to him as if to expect him to be gone, the calmness in his body being noticeable every time he found him.

It felt wrong, it felt distant, it felt as if he was a problem. He hasn’t felt like this in years.

Hours and hours later when their friends finally got too tired of watching Sonic’s odd behavior they all went their own way for the night, with Rouge just disappearing in the dark, Knuckles claiming he had places to be, and Amy saying the day had drained her and she needed sleep, Sonic and Tails were finally alone.

The walk to Tails’ lab was quick, but quiet. The silence prevailed all the way before they entered the house and closed the door, then it wasn’t quiet anymore.

With the way Sonic practically launched himself over Tails knocking the air out of him as he hugged the kit tightly, both falling to the floor as Sonic held him against his chest with one hand while the other one placed itself securing the fox’s head just below Sonic’s chin. Tails was quiet, way too shocked with the sudden affection after a whole day of being so close while feeling so far away. But Sonic’s sobs and whimpers weren’t quiet at all.

They were loud and broken, not forming any comprehensible words as hiccups broke in every time it seemed like he was actually trying to say something, as if he held back from crying for hours, It felt guilty, sorrowful, and desperate.

Tails found himself breaking his silence and asking repeatedly “what’s wrong?!” as he reciprocated the hug just for Sonic to tighten his arms around him, breaking into fully crying this time, with a sea of tears falling from the speedster’s eyes to the genius’ head, not letting him go even for a second, not loosening his grip after what felt like hours of holding his little brother, who held him back just as tightly.

Even if the tears stopped, their embrace didn’t, with the morning warmth closer than midnight’s coldness the blue hedgehog found himself surrounding the sleepy fox as he fought sleep’s calling to stay with his big brother.

“I love you” was muttered to the boy’s ears as he was claimed by the land of dreams, in which he could fly all day with the shining star he called his brother.

Tails wasn’t sure if that whisper was part of his dream. Sonic knew it wasn’t

[lopsushi]

Cryptic Hunter AU

Lore: 

Cryptic are known in this au like good, bad, feral, and monsters. There are hunters to keep these cryptic in check and kill the ones that are feral, villains, and monsters. Macaque was born as a shadow witch/cryptic (which is rare) and Wukong a powerful cryptic who dreamed of becoming something great. They were childhood best friends and grew up as survivors for years in this cruel world until one day Wukong got cursed by a powerful god (IDK which God) for the trouble he was causing in the world and no hunter was able to catch him. Macaque knows about the curse and tries his best to find a cure for his best friend/crush on this curse. Though as the years goes by Wukong gets annoyed/tired of how long this is going to take because he is suffering from this curse and Macaque isn’t making the monkey lash at his best friend. One day Macaque returns home from a hard day of searching for answers to find Wukong not home and his belongings gone. Macaque goes into searching for his best friend till years later he finds Wukong at the Celestial Realm Hunter Crop making Macaque scared to enter because he knows how this crop treats witches. Lucky, he sneaks in to talk to Wukong at night and finds his best friend training and when he is alone he’ll come out hugging the monkey happy to find him, asking him questions on where he went and what happened. That they need to leave this place because it is dangerous, but Wukong would pull his hand making Macaque confused. That was the argument of Wukong having enough of not getting an answer for his curse and Macaque confusingly telling him that he was looking for a cure. This would lead to their heated argument of Wukong telling Macaque he’s tired of waiting, having to suffer from this curse, how he’s suffering from this curse and Macaque isn’t. How he must put up with it while Macaque can be carefree. How he must do this all alone. And of course, Macaque is doing his best yelling at Wukong, looking as best as he can. That he is doing everything in his power to cure him. Of course, this would make Wukong snap and yell at Macaque telling him “YOUR A CRYPTIC AND A WITCH BUT SO FAR YOU DONE NOTHING TO HELP ME!!!” And of course, Macaque would get hurt badly if he snaps telling Wukong “IT WASN’T MY FAULT YOU GOT CURSE!!! YOU (something to make the god mad to make them curse Wukong)” Wukong would get so pissed off at the remark/truth that he attacks his best friend making them fight which ends badly with Macaque getting blinded on his right eye and the crop coming out pointing swords/spears at Macaque after hearing the fight while Wukong is huffing angrily. Macaque in utter pain and heartbroken looking at his old friend who is staring at him in anger and of course he grabs a spear pointing it at Macaque and says, “they said they could help me, and they have magic that you don’t.” In other words, Macaque was hurt that Wukong no longer trusted him and chose to trust the corps over him, even after warning him about it. After this Wukong would try to arrest Macaque but the small simian looks down, betrayed and heartbroken to merge down into his shadow magic. 

Sadly, Macaque was right because through the years of Wukong training there and being their “weapon/best of hunter” Wukong found out that they never had a cure that they only been able to find a spell to subdue that curse by allowing Wukong to control it but not always, if he allows rage or any negative emotions it’ll release the curse beast. This pisses him off badly that he leaves the corps but is still known as the best hunter in the world.

- So that’s my information I have on the au! There’s more info coming later so stay tune.

[leonw4nter]

Ex-Swimmer!RE4!Leon

In his childhood, his grandparents wanted to find an activity to get his high energy down. They tried gymnastics but it was too expensive for both of them to cover, poor Leon was really excited to swing and twirl in the air like the rest of the kids in the better side of town. Fortunately for his grandparents, his school teacher recommended swimming classes— they were more affordable for him and also, Leon seemed happy to take the classes.

Leon excelled highly in swimming. He was a fast learner and eager to try new techniques for swimming and breathing. He would help other kids who were having a harder time, giving them tips, and uplifting encouragement to keep them going. The coaches, the teacher that recommended swimming for him, and his grandparents saw that he was doing exceptional, like he’s destined to be an accomplished swimmer. After being convinced and encouraged enough by his support system, he decided to train for a local competition— his first of many.

His first competition was memorable— not in the way that he won a medal, he did not, but he enjoyed the feeling of competing with others. Post competition, he gave everyone a hug and congratulated them on their wins. Of course he felt bummed out but he didn’t let that stop him— he just felt even more motivated.

That night, he lay awake in bed as he figured out what he wanted to do: be a professional swimmer or pursue his lifelong dream of being a police officer. Both of these things made him immensely happy— to feel his body cutting through the water as his arms and legs drove him forward, to be able to stand up for those who couldn’t and protect them. By the morning, he decided to keep swimming in his heart as a hobby and keep chasing his dream of being a police officer.

As he grew older, he still competed in competitions and did his best to win cash prizes to surprise his grandmother with. However he had to put a halt to swimming when he got in the police academy; he needed more time to focus on his studies and had to lessen expenses, classes weren’t that cheap anymore.

After Raccoon City, he no longer had any police duties to consider. He’s now under extensive government surveillance and most of his decisions are made with the consideration of what the government can do with Claire and Sherry, fellow survivors of the incident. During days where he’s allowed to see both of them or at least one of the two, he talks about how he missed swimming and feeling the electric thrill of competing. He rambled on and on about how the chlorine smell of the pool reminded him of when times were normal, he thought about the adults that guided him when he was a boy.

On very rare occasions where he got to sleep during his military training, he had dreams of the pool, of cheering, of feeling light in the water. Usually, it was followed with him drowning despite knowing how to swim or the water turning red with blood, flotsam scattered on the once blue surface. He hated that the horrors of bioweapons even tainted the treasure he kept deep in his heart wherever he went.

His therapist recommended swimming again, not necessarily competitively like back then, but as a manner of relaxation. He thought about it and rejected the idea until he decided to cave in. The next morning, he looked for pools around town. He didn’t jump in straight to a full on pool and start paddling around, he stayed in a plunge pool and let the cascading water gently sway his body.

After exposing himself to water again and slowly getting over the fears and worries that held him back, he began performing swim strokes— front crawl, trudgen stroke, backstrokes galore. He knew that his form was slightly off but quite impressive for someone who hasn’t done this in 6 or more years. The familiarity of childhood swimming breathing techniques and the sloshing water gave Leon a sense of peace, even for a moment. He practiced dives and swam fast, hard. In no time, his form felt much more correct in the water though he knew he was far from the precision his younger self had.

He was underwater when he heard faint steps approaching his position, rushing back to the surface to check who the footsteps belonged to. It was an old man, with a clipboard on his arm. Leon approached and the man explained that he wished to scout Leon and train him professionally because he could see the potential in him, the chance for athletic greatness. Leon declined, stating that he’s not too well to train professionally and besides, he has a full-time job that demands a lot from him already. The man smiled and gave Leon a pat on the shoulder, complimenting his skill before making his way out and observing the other swimmers with him in the natatorium.

He drove home that night, the chlorine smell still lingering on his person like an old memory. He was frustrated at himself for turning down an opportunity that presented itself to him, it was so close. All he had to do was say a few words and soon he’d have a schedule to go back there and practice. It would be nice to compete again, to swiftly slice through the water but he was tethered to a job he’s blackmailed into, a job that he never wanted in the first place. He’s not even sure he can reach the levels of athletic skill his younger self achieved, he thinks he’s not quite right in the head anymore after all he’s seen, heard, felt, and done.

That night and many nights onward, he dreams of two things: the horrors of the now decimated city with its snarling undead lunging at his warm throat and what could’ve been his Olympic debut, if he was given time to fully hone his talent. He wanted to appease the little kid inside him that wanted to swim in new natatoriums, hear the crowd scream in exhilaration, and feel the weight of a cold medal on his chest but he can’t. In his visions behind shut eyes each night, he apologizes and hugs the 10-year-old Leon who always asked about his dreams because all of them— to live a happy life, swim competitively, and help people as a police officer— were all a distance too great for Leon to swim towards.

NOTE - So I'm back. But I'll also be gone soon :3 Sorry if it's a little too short, I still don't have any idea what to write but this felt like an idea too good to pass up so why not pen it down yk :) While I was gone I've been watching the Olympics and lowkey is this what patriotism feels like... like bro why am I suddenly so passionate and shedding tears of national pride. Also it's incredibly obvious that I've been keeping up with the swimming events by the theme of this post... Also, as of writing we're 7 followers away from 500 followers so I'll prolly do something for that milestone! Anyway, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <33333333 UUUUUUUUUUU

The chain divider is made by @cafekitsune , the images are colored by me (sourced from Pinterest).