#but like....i also would have killed her three months ago to get her man but now i dont need to so its not funny anymore 😔😭

[the-invisible-queer]

FMK

Sophie turner

Priyanka chopra

Danielle jonas

Ooh bestie 😭

DISCLAIMER: I NEED YOU TO KNOW THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN HOW I ANSWERED THIS MONTHS AGO IF YOU ASKED! THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CURRENT EVENTS!

Kill Sophie

Fuck Priyanka because have you seen herrrr 😩

Marry Danielle because she's hot and Italian - my thing for Italians doesn't stop with men 👀

[thisaccountisagainstmywill]

BG3 Characters Safest Driver Headcanons

I've been thinking about that poll from months ago way too much, so I've pulled this from my drafts. In this essay, I will explain why Boo is the best driver. Astarion: Terrible. Absolutely terrible driver. He is doing his makeup with the visor down, looking at the mirror more than the road. Suspend your disbelief, he's driving in this universe. He can use mirrors. ♥ You have to grab the steering wheel, regularly. Without warning, the man twists around to find his purse in the back seat because he wants a different eyeliner than what he grabbed. You are on aux duty. He hates everything you've picked. 2/10, he lawyered his way into that license Gale: You would think he would be safe, but then you remember that Gale didn't pay attention in boring classes. And how hard could driving really be?? The man knows how to drive perfectly textbook. He also thinks he knows how to do it better than everyone else. He does not adapt well to poor drivers. The roads are full of poor drivers. He is yeling "Zipper!" at the merging traffic. You spend five minutes in the parking lot so he can find just the right song for the trip.

6/10, you will probably not die Halsin: The man drives slow, I'm sorry. He's fuel efficient as you can get with the windows down. He pulls over and stops traffic for ducks crossing the road, no matter what the current road conditions are. He stops to show you the new tree the neighbor got. He is a Yellowstone Park tourist. He wants to show you the world, one traffic-stopping mid-road parking job at a time. There is no music, we are listening to nature today. 4/10, you will be rear-ended with him and not the way most people want Jaheira: I stand by what I said last time: Jaheira reminds me of so many older women I know. She drives like she wants someone to start shit with her. She's so conditioned by having 5 kids fighting in the backseat at all times that every time she's behind the wheel she's having Vietnam-level flashbacks. Her blood is pumping in her ears. There is no road, there is only the red of her vision. She won't start the road rage incident directly, but by god, she will end it. (You tried to ask about music, but the look she gave you when asked killed the question.) 5/10, you make it to your destination intact. But at what cost? Your pants are a different color at the end of the trip than they were at the beginning. Karlach: Karlach is talking with her hands while she drives. She's fiddling with the radio constantly. You've blown four red lights. Three of them were the same red light because she took a wrong turn. She will not use GPS, she's got the vibe of where she's going. She was trying to show you something on her phone at the same time. It cannot wait. It was so good you have to see it right now. The tunes are so loud she hasn't heard the sirens behind her. 4/10, the tunes almost make up for it Lae'zel: You are helping her check her mirror distance before you get in the car. You are buckled in before the car even starts. You are not allowed to touch the light in the car if it is dark out. She was taught that it's illegal to have on at night and she takes that shit seriously. You are on blindspot-watching duty at all times. You're not allowed to have music on the in car, it is a distraction. 7/10, we are efficient, but we are miserable Minsc: Minsc cannot drive. Minsc was meant to drive today, but Minsc got into the wrong seat. We are all relieved. Jaheira trained him wrong on purpose and will kill you if you correct him. 0/10, don't even try. He will survive the accident, you will not. Minthara: Minthara, light of my life. She is gremlin cackling and riding bumpers the whole time. People are pulling off constantly to get away from her. You are white-knuckling in the passenger seat and are too afraid to let go of the bitch-bar. You pray her airbags are up to date because your life has not stopped flashing before your eyes since you got onto the road. We are exclusively listening to The Flight of the Valkyries. 7/10, it is shockingly efficient when no one else is on the road anymore

Shadowheart: I have been in many a 'Shadowhearts' car. The car is more of a problem than she is. She drives the type of car that makes people go, "You live like this?" She drives a manual. She was not trained to drive a manual. Almost every single dash light is on, the ones that aren't had their bulbs die out years ago. We don't know how old that trash is, but it lives here now. She has one of those cassette players that has to hook into your phone to come out the speakers. Good luck finding the right adaptor in the mess. 4/10, girl get your shit together Wyll: Wyll is the best driver, hands down...when he is alone. Like all things in his life, his greatest flaw is being too polite. He turns his whole fucking head to look at you when you talk because that is the polite thing to do. The road is secondary to how important your conversation and companionship are to him. And you can't not talk him! He's asking you genuine questions about your day because he's interested. You get to listen to whatever you want and he's totally down for it even if it's not normally his thing. He'll find something he likes about it. Alone: 100/10, he somehow makes everyone better drivers by just being on the road With you: 5/10, Wyll, please, look at the road. ;_;

Boo: My eyes are closed. It's better this way. We made it there in record time. I don't know how it happened. I don't need to know how it happened. ?/10, it's best if you don't think about it

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

[nejiverse]

SWEET-TEETH

Satoru Gojo

In which Gojo just so happened to pass his love for sweets onto his daughter. Fem! Reader

cw: a hyper toddler, cranky y/n, megumi makes an appearance

745 words

Sugar is worse than crack.

No one could convince you otherwise in this moment in time.

A nap. That's all you wanted to take. Were you granted that simple luxury? Absolutely not.

Not with a man child and an actual child under the same roof.

During pregnancy you prayed, pleaded that your child wouldn't inherit Gojo's sweet tooth but she did.

Not only that but she also inherited Gojo's white hair and blue eyes.

9 months all for your daughter to wholly be a daddy's girl in both looks and personality.

You got out of bed and haphazardly threw on one of your husband's shirts before leaving your shared room and following the high pitched screaming and squealing which ultimately led you to the kitchen.

You observed Gojo leaning against the island as he watched the toddler run around the kitchen with an amused expression. She was clad in just a diaper and a purple dora the explorer vest. Along with her slightly damp hair, you assumed Gojo had just taken her for a bath not too long ago.

But gosh, if it were possible for her to bounce off the ceilings then you were certain she'd be doing so right now. She was waddling around faster than her little legs could take her.

"Why?", you crossed your arms over your chest and approached Gojo groggily.

"Babe! You're finally awak—".

You certainly weren't awake by choice.

"Why", you interrupted him and this time it was more of a command than a question.

"...why what?", he tilted his head with that stupid clueless expression that made you wanna punch him in the face.

Gojo was able to figure out from your agitated state that you didn't wake up by yourself but that you were actually woken up against your will, more than likely by all the screaming from your toddler. He forgot how much you hated being woken up.

"Why did you give her sugar", you irked.

"Whaaaat! You can't just jump to conclusions silly", he laughed, trying to ignore the deathly glare you were giving him.

"Satoru", you called him by his full name and not by Toru. It made him want to crawl into a hole and die.

"I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it".

“But Y/nn! I can’t just eat sweets and not give her some”, he whined.

“What sweets?”, you asked out of curiosity.

You saw your husband’s whole body flinch at your words as his index finger tapped against the island idly.

It was something he subconsciously did whenever he was lying or hiding something.

“It was mochi wasn’t it”, specifically his favourite, Kikufuku.

He let out a nervous laugh and averted his gaze from you.

“What did I tell you last time?”.

“I can only have mochi three times a week at most…”, he sulked. “So I don’t get diabetes..”.

And he had it yesterday, the day before and the day before that.

You shook your head. “To be honest Toru, I think today’s the day I finally kill you”.

Although your words were nothing to smile at, he smiled anyway because you called him by his nickname. It meant you forgave him (in his head anyway). It just meant you were over it more than anything.

In that moment, you three heard the front door squeak open. The same door you’ve been pestering Gojo to lubricate for weeks.

D/n squealed, the sounds rivalling that of the squeaky door as she ran over to the door and smiled widely at the sight of Megumi. She hugged his legs and as he was about to routinely lift her into his arms, she ran away again as she continued her unbearable shouting.

She would usually make grabby hands at him to lift her up, but not today. She wanted to continue running around.

Megumi felt betrayed and he thinks he knows the reason for this betrayal.

He walked into the kitchen where the toddler ran into and looked at Gojo with narrowed eyes and a scowl.

“Why’d you give her so much sugar?”.

Gojo’s mouth fell open as he looked at you then Megumi. “How the hell do you guys know I gave her sugar??!”.

“I know a sugar-fuelled screech when I hear it”.

Gojo swore he felt like deja vu just now or something.

“That’s what I said!”, you exclaimed.

masterlist :)

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day. 

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York. 

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work. 

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands. 

You should’ve expected it. 

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had. 

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them. 

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning. 

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls. 

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do. 

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse. 

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that. 

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time. 

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles. 

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara. 

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie. 

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”. 

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place. 

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot! 

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy. 

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way. 

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring. 

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action. 

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background. 

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.” 

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment. 

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor. 

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion. 

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again. 

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.” 

“I have to.” 

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

[samuelsdean]

There Would Be No Us

pairing: sam winchester x reader

summary: demon blood, and the power it granted people, but also the terrible price it exacted. you knew—sam knew firsthand—about it. you wouldn't be here today hunting those sons of bitches if sam wasn't fed that stupid thing all those years ago. sam knew the consequences, and yet. sam, fueled by grief and a desperate needto exact revenge for dean, wasn't immune to its allure.

genre: angst

word count: 1.5k

author's notes: i hope y'all have your tissues ready because this one hurts. that's it.

THE RHYTHMIC PATTER OF RAIN AGAINST THE MOTEL ROOF WAS A FAMILIAR LULL, ONE YOU'D GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO OVER THE PAST FEW MONTHS. But tonight, it felt more like a funeral march. Sat on the threadbare bed, you stared at the chipped paint on the wall, the stillness amplifying the gnawing emptiness in your chest. It had been hours since Sam left, hours filled with the echo of him slamming the motel door shut and the roar of the Impala starting and driving into the rain. You had watched him your concern growing with each passing moment. It had been what? Two? Three months, going on four, passed since Dean had been dragged to Hell, and the toll on Sam was clear.

Another lead, another dead end. You knew the routine by heart now, the crushing disappointment that followed every failed attempt to get revenge for Dean. Tonight, though, the weight felt heavier. It's been months since that fateful night Dean died, and you'd seen the flicker of desperation in Sam's eyes before he left, a desperation that morphed into something colder, harder.

Sam had become increasingly reticent lately, spending more and more time huddled over his phone in hushed conversations with Ruby. Out of all the people—if you could even call her that—Sam chose to trust her over you. You who have been by his side forever. You who have loved him ever since. He’d brushed off your questions about her, your comments, claiming that if anything she knew more about Lilith and hell, more than you ever could. But the way his demeanor shifted whenever he ended those calls, a mixture of guarded hope and grim determination, made you doubt his explanation, made you doubt him.

Today’s lead was different. There was a frantic edge to Sam’s voice when Ruby called, a rawness that had you rushing to the motel window as soon as the Impala’s roar faded into the night. Now, you paced the tiny room, Dean's worn leather jacket slung at the foot of the bed, his scent clinging to it a faint comfort in the harsh silence of the room, a constant reminder of your fruitless search to avenge the older brother. A choked sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing through the empty room.

Where was Sam? What was going on? Could you really trust Ruby? A million questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown out the faint hope that flitted within you. Your eyes settled on Sam's unmade bed, his blanket unkempt and his pillows askew. But before you could reach for it, to fix it—the man deserved a clean bed to lay down on—the door creaked open, and Sam walked in, his hair dripping from the rain.

Relief washed over you, momentarily erasing the apprehensions that had been churning in your stomach. "Sam!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. "Did you find something? Anything?" you finally asked, the silence pressing down heavy.

He looked at you, his face etched with weariness, but there was a speck in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A hint of something you couldn't quite define. "Maybe," he said, a tight smile playing on his lips. "We might be closer than we think to killing Lilith."

His words were a ray of light in the darkness, but you couldn't shake off the unease that lingered. As Sam pulled you into a hug, the damp chill of his clothes did little to dispel the coldness that had settled around your heart. There was something more to this story, a secret Sam was keeping from you. And you knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that whatever it was, it had the potential to change everything.

You clung to Sam, desperately trying to ignore the unsettling chill radiating from his body. His embrace felt different, tighter, almost frantic. You pulled back, searching his eyes for answers, for the warmth you used to find there.

"Sam," you started, your voice a modicum of a whisper, "what happened?"

He nodded, avoiding your gaze. "We… I think I might have a lead this time, a good one." He rummaged in his jacket pocket, pulling out the half-empty vial you had just noticed stuffed in his pocket. Your breath caught in your throat.

"What's that?" you managed, your voice trembling.

"It's… something Ruby gave me," he mumbled, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the vial. "It helps me do things, you know, fight demons." He offered you a strained smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"What?" you continued, holding your breath. "What do you mean? Does it work like holy water? I-I don't... I don't understand."

A wave of nausea washed over you. It's not what you think it is—you hoped it wasn't what you think it is.

Demon blood.

Demon blood, and the power it granted people, but also the terrible price it exacted. You knew—Sam knew firsthand—about it. You wouldn't be here today hunting those sons of bitches if Sam wasn't fed that stupid thing all those years ago. Sam knew the consequences, and yet.

Sam, fueled by grief and a desperate need to to exact revenge for Dean, wasn't immune to its allure.

"Sam," you pleaded, your voice heavy with concern. "Are you sure about this? Ruby… I think you should stop this. Stop this madness."

He wavered, then set the vial down with a sigh. "Look, I know you're worried," he said, his voice softening a touch. "But this is the only way. We can't just sit here doing nothing."

"There has to be another way, Sam," you insisted, reaching for his hand. You could feel the tremor in his fingers, a cold confirmation of your suspicions.

"There isn't," he said, his voice hardening. "This is what it takes. I have to avenge Dean, I promise. We just have to…" his voice trailed off, his eyes flicking to the vial again, a flicker of desperation crossing his face.

"Sam," your voice sounded shaky. "Stop this. You're scaring me."

He finally looked up, his eyes resolute. "I need to do this. I can't just sit here."

"And you think demon blood is the answer?" Your anger flared, hot and sharp. You knew the stories, the dangers. He knew himself and both of you knew Dean wouldn't want this.

"It helps," he muttered, his voice flat. "It keeps me focused, keeps me going. It makes me strong"

You knew that wasn't entirely true. You'd seen the way his eyes gleamed after he was with Ruby, a feverish energy replacing his usual stoicism. You'd seen the way he flinched from touch, the dark circles under his eyes deepening. It was more than focus, it was dependence.

Anger turned to a deep well of sorrow. You loved Sam, a life tangled with his amidst the chaos of their hunter's life. Now, that love felt choked by his descent into this dangerous territory.

"Sam, if we lose you too…" your voice cracked. You reached for his hand, but he pulled away, his eyes filled with a cold, angered flicker you didn't recognize.

"You won't," he said, his voice infused with a dangerous power. "We can't give up on this. Not now, not ever."

The venom in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "Isn't this giving up?" you challenged, your voice barely a whisper. "You're literally taking something from the monsters you've been fighting your whole life! To do what? Fight them? You're sacrificing yourself on a gamble!"

He looked away, jaw hardening, staring daggers at the wall behind you.

"Have I ever given up on you, Sam?" You broke down.

He shook his head, but wouldn't meet your gaze.

"No, never," you pressed on, sniffling. "Then don't force me to do it now. Don't make me watch you do this."

The silence that followed was heavy with a finality neither of you wanted to acknowledge. You reached for him again, but this time, he didn't flinch. His hand was cold and foreign in yours, devoid of the warmth you used to know. His eyes, once filled with love and pain, were now blank and unfriendly.

"We'll find Dean," he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "But it won't be us."

A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a warm path down your cheek. You nodded slowly, stunned at how easy it was for the man you loved to choose someone else, to choose Ruby—demon blood—over you.

You watched as Sam grabbed the vial, a chilling smile dancing on his lips. As he tipped back his head, the love you held for him turned to a hollow ache. You were losing him, piece by agonizing piece, to the very thing both of you hunted on almost a daily basis.

There would be no fight for Dean together.

There would be no us.

You were left alone, a solitary figure in the flickering motel room, the only witness to the anomaly Sam was becoming.

[kikitakite]

@fantasyfictionfables

I was going to reblog some of your posts because I wanted to discuss your takes on Mystra, but then I found out you're a Christian conservative who hates gay people.

No gay person thinks their sexual orientation is their identity, but it's absolutely PART of their identity, just as being straight is part of yours. You can claim otherwise, but it determines who you might love and marry and that person will one day become a part of you and your identity. It's inevitable. As a wife and mother of three, you should know that better than anyone.

But people from groups like yours shame gay people for exploring that part of themselves and that's why Pride Month exists. Pride isn't "propaganda". It's about marginalized people showing the world they exist and they're not ashamed of it. Parades are also a great way for gay people to meet each other. My bestie met her wife at a march 15 years ago and they've been together ever since. It's beautiful. They have two happy, gorgeous children who wouldn't exist without Pride, because their moms never would've met.

Pride also raises money to help gay teens who've been cast out of their homes and gay refugees who've had to flee their country because being gay is illegal there. It also provides support for gay people who need medical help, therapy for abuse, suicide prevention and more. It's a safe space for people who are often discriminated against and even KILLED just for being who they are. So sorry that seems to bother you.

Your take isn't brave, it's just ignorant and hateful. You didn't have to write that post. Nothing provoked it. You just WANTED to to air your allegiances. And then you turned off comments and reblogs lmfao. For the majority of the year, gay people survive just like us straights. They go about their day and don't even mention being gay. You picked the one month in the entire year that's dedicated to them to complain about their existence and call them "deranged". And then you have the audacity to say you "bear no ill will" towards them? Bullshit.

I can only assume the word "pride" scares you because you're a Christian and it's a sin, am I right? Well here's something ironic: lust is also a sin, yet your entire blog not only consists of Gale thirst posts, but you're also stealing Tim Downie's voice to make audio clips using AI. Hmmm, I wonder if God would approve of a married woman posting NSFW content and using a man's voice for her hedonistic writings without his consent. 🤔

And by the way, as a veteran DnD player I can tell you right now that Mystra has done some absolutely VILE shit to her followers. She's not perfect. None of the gods in DnD are. They're flawed and often cruel. I've seen you compare Mystra and Gale to stories in the Bible, but that almost feels blasphemous. Mystra has a history of evil deeds. She orchestrated Elminster's rape, made sure he had kids and never told him about them. She turned Volo into an anchor without his knowledge. She tortured a peasant because he refused to sleep with her, then killed his wife and punished him for crying about it. And don't even get me started on the "daughters" she created. The third Mystra (who has Mystra and Mystryl's memories) is cruel to Gale as well and the game gives so much context for that. Plus ALL the companions agree she's unreasonable and tell Gale to reject her, and if he does it leads to one of his most satisfying endings. He's happy, he's a teacher, he marries tav and everyone approves. Your way of playing isn't the only right way and people aren't wrong for criticizing Mystra. There's plenty about her that deserves to be criticized, as is the case with every god in the pantheon.

Speaking of, I have nothing against Christians, but I do when they use their faith to shame people and act like total hypocrites.

[gingermintpepper]

I would love to hear you talk about Kassandra???

So, what can I say about Kassandra.

Well, firstly, I've been thinking about how I want to answer this question since I got it however many months ago and I figured I wanted to speak about my own interpretation of things rather than formal stuff - half because I don't want to cite anything since going through Iliad based papers brings me little joy and half because I figure I could treat it a bit more casually this way. So here's like, a very brief selection of thoughts I have about Kassandra, Saintess of Troy.

I view her tale as a microcosm of the wider tale of the Fall of Troy from Apollo's perspective. A human is given a choice and, of their own free-will, they make the most destructive decision ignorant of the way they're sealing their own fate and no matter how much their patron will want to save and help them, they will be unable to so much as lift a meaningful finger because the choice made is one that is sealed in Fate and powers far beyond any one god. The themes of doomed love are also shared; Kassandra loved Apollo just as Apollo loved her but she couldn't be what he wanted of her. She couldn't accept what it was he was offering, no matter how much power, honour and love he tried to tempt her with and in a lot of ways, I think of her devastating visions of doom and death(tm) as a physical parallel to the feelings Helen must be tormented with knowing that she will be cited as the reason of such mass death, destruction and violence. Likewise, I see Apollo's inability to save Kassandra up until the end as representative of his wider inability to save Troy. All his love and blessing were not enough, even though all she had to do was take his hand, it simply wasn't meant to be and so I imagine that must be a fresh hurt for him with each beloved mortal he loses during the campaign.

Kassandra is genuinely so interesting? Both as a character and as a narrative idea; she sits almost in the center of so many fascinating parallels and foils that it gets me so excited whenever she comes up in conversation! I've mentioned it briefly before but she forms a very neat triad with Iphigenia and Troilus which runs parallel to the three dominant male powers in Iliad - Agamemnon, Achilles and Apollo. They're what I somewhat refer to as the sacrifice trio, innocents who must ultimately be abandoned and stripped away for the sake of the desire of their sacrificer, in turn revealing something intrinsic about the nature of the man. For Iphigenia, she reveals that Agamemnon truly values his ambition over all, that his image and status as a leader is more meaningful to him than the love of his family (which, of course, dooms him in the end). Likewise, for Achilles, Troilus' sacrifice reveals that no matter the glamour or glory that crowns Achilles' head, his rage is ultimately his most powerful feeling and it burns bright and hot no matter the circumstance, opponent or arena. For Apollo, Kassandra's sacrifice (which is much more symbolic as he is a god and therefore need not actually physically kill her) reveals his position as the 'loser', one who will be scorned and reviled and lose all the things he loves no matter how closely he cherishes or adorns them. He can't protect the mortals he's blessed, he can't protect his children - he can't even save one woman. She also has that aforementioned triad with Helen and Andromache - the sequestered women; doomed to wait and pray but each, in their own ways working to save and support their own in the conflict. They're all haunted by the promise of what awaits them - Andromache's hopes and future lies with Hector and with her son yet she is the embodiment of a war-wife, solid and stoic in her support when Hector returns but suffering deeply knowing each fight could be his last. Helen, of course, carries with her both the suffering of the greek women and the hatred of their men - if Andromache fears death taking the breath from her beloved fighters then Helen bears the weight of death upon her shoulders, all grief and scorn is bore like a crown upon her head and she must bear it. It is her duty to bear it. Kassandra then becomes the suffering of the young women - they who are surrounding on all sides by throngs of death and do not know why it has come, they whose screams intermix with that of the dead upon them. There is no avatar for Kassandra to experience the war through, no reason for her to be stoic or strong or upright. She tears her hair, hysterical at the suffering that is poured into her mind day in and day out, wild and unrestrained where her elders must hold their grief and tame it. In this way, she gives voice to the voiceless, she screams for those who cannot and is reviled for it - a young woman surrounded by death yet ordered not to speak a word of its stench or horror. There's many more things I can talk about too such as the whole Kassandra as Apollo's living Palladium thing or the Kassandra-Electra-Clytemnestra trio or even Chryseis as a reflection of Kassandra and how the taking of a priest's daughter could be seen as tantamount to trying to steal away Kassandra (and how this eventually wraps back around to the actual incident of Kassandra being stolen away and ending up right back under Agamemnon's care just as Chryseis before her) but like, we would be here all day.

Y'all maybe this is a hot take but scorned woman Kassandra is like, the most boring interpretation of her ever. She has so much life and passion in her, so much joy, so much despair, so much love - making her jaded and cynical towards both her fate and her god is such a slap in the face to me of what her character could and generally does seem to stand for. Kassandra never stopped loving Apollo - likewise, Apollo (at least to me) never abandoned her. All in Troy suffer heavy, cursed fates - Kassandra is one of the few who at least had some awareness of how hers would turn out. I like that she's a fighter. I like that she screams and cries and spits and is expressive and ugly in her torment and grief when so many of the women around her cannot afford to be. I like that she said no and despite how much she suffered for it, she never begged for her yolk to be taken from her because she knew that the choice she made was the right one for her. She's raw, she's vivid, she's human and more than anything, that's what I love so much about her.

[klausysworld]

you can do a one-shot for yandere klaus mikaelson, where Hope is already a teenager and all her life she adored her parents and family and always wished that someone would love her like her father loves her mother *y/n*, but one day he was reading cases of people who had been missing for years and a case in particular of a girl who seems quite familiar to him, and he discovers that this girl is his mother years ago and he starts to investigate and discovers his father's obsession with his mother and that he kidnapped her and kept her with him until she fell in love with him, he also discovered the secret rooms of the mansion that have her mother's stolen belongings and her portraits. Obviously Hope feels cheated and disillusioned and wants to confront her father.

Confusion, Fear, Horror.

Hope knew she was cherished by her family.

Her aunts and uncles fawned over her and brought her the best possible gifts at special occasions.

Her father always called her ‘his hope’ and made sure she knew she could always have whatever she desired.

And her mother…her mother looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. She calmed her father whenever he got mad that she was going out with friends. When Hope got home late, her mother would sort everything out. She was like a guardian angel.

So finding an image of her on a ‘missing person’s’ website was a shock. At first she thought maybe it wasn’t her, maybe a doppelgänger of sorts?

So she began to dig.

She certainly wasn’t expecting to find a secret passage way.

To find hundreds of portraits of her mother, stacks of pictures of her doing things as simple as walking down the street to standing in a towel in the window.

Clothes in boxes labelled by the year and dozens of love notes written to y/n from Klaus.

And then a note book…

Mondays ~ 2:30pm she has afternoon tea with male co-worker. Needs to stop.

Tuesdays ~ works until 5pm. Walks home alone. Possible opening.

Wednesdays ~ gets a lift home from work,, varies between three coworkers. Kill all?

Thursdays ~ tight schedule at work-forgets her lunch. Will come in handy when courting.

Fridays ~ half day. Possible date night?

Saturdays ~ often sees friends and/or family. Need to tear her away from this.

Sundays ~ lazy days. Great days to watch her.

She blinked in confusion and slight fear before turning over the page

Favourite colour=y/f/c

Favourite food=y/f/f

Favourite song=y/f/s

Dream job=y/d/j

Favourite things to do=f/s/t

Aspirations=y/a

And so on.

There were pages and pages of information on her.

Hope wanted to believe that he was just an amazing boyfriend. He just loved her so much he made sure write down everything she told him. But then she found the notes

At 2:36pm I watched her go into a mans house.

4:08 I eliminated the problem.

6:29 she had a shower. Left her curtains open.

7:45 she had her dinner. Alone this time-good.

9:13 she put her favourite show on

01:53 she fell asleep on her couch-it’s okay, I moved her to her bed.

She didn’t know what to think. With the amount of times he had written in these books, it’s safe to assume he watched her daily, nightly for months, years on end.

Even after he seemed to ‘get her’, court her, he still watched her. He suspected she would cheat on him, leave him. He was more paranoid than she had ever known him to be.

And the entry he made about ‘taking’ her mother completely through her off course.

She looked through security footage of the dungeons only to watch her own mother scream and fight against her father. They were both hysterical and Hope watched in horror as her father threatened and raged at her mother.

Over the weeks she watched her mother slowly become more obedient and affectionate towards Klaus.

She watched as her mother clung to him in fear that he would leave her alone for days upon end, she noticed her fathers manipulative behaviour from the “how do I know this isn’t some ploy to make me let you go?” To “I just don’t think you truly mean it” Watching her mother beg for him to stay, pleading for him to show her some sort of affection.

She saw how her mother became reliant on him, how she began to love him because he was all she had.

She saw the photos of her mother pregnant, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and Freya all in the background as Klaus tended to her mothers needs.

Pictures of her as a baby and how her mother sobbed as she held her, the look she had in her eyes when Klaus took Hope from her arms, the fear they held.

Hope didn’t understand.

She saw her parents in whole other light.

Every time Klaus would take something from y/n’s hands and give her a look, the way she would lower her head and apologise and he would remind her to ask before she does.

The certain looks he would give her, almost warning like when she ‘stepped out of line’

It frightened Hope.

She tried to say something to her mother but as soon as Y/n realised she knew, the utter horror on her face was enough to stop Hope.

“Hope- please, you need to be quiet, please my heart, please I promise I’ll keep you safe”

The way y/n would hold her and cry until it was Hope holding her mother and convincing her it was okay

“We can run away”

“I know it’s difficult to understand but…I do…I do love him Hope…I just…do”

Y/n feared for both of them what would happen if Hope spoke out of term. Y/n would never let anything happen to her baby but her baby was strong enough now go protect her mother too.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 9

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Kidnapping. Angst. Lol

Author’s Note: ✨Woops✨

Series Mastlist | Talk to Me!

The Taken

“Where did you get this?” The Armorer asked, holding the circlet in her hands carefully.

“The princess I saved –it belongs to her.”

Din had left her and the child on Sorgan, simply explaining that he had to take care of something back on Nevarro. She questioned him, asking if she could come, but he promised he would be quick. It was a little over three days worth of travel between Sorgan and Nevarro, so she was skeptical of him. Din had reassured her that it was nothing bad; that what he was doing was for her. But what he needed to do was important.

Which is what brought him before the Armorer of his people, with her circlet. She had insisted she didn’t want it anymore after he revealed what it was made of. He wasn’t sure where she got beskar steel, but she wasn’t opposed to him taking it. It’s rightfully yours, she had said. Do whatever you see fit with it. 

“How curious,” the Armorer murmured, examining the piece. “I made this many years ago.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he stepped forward. “What do you mean, you made it?”

The Armorer looked to him, holding the faded gold piece out to look at. “Our covert was attacked, long before we settled on Nevarro,” she explained, moving next to lay the piece in the flames. “I had been overcome, and the enemy was prepared to kill. But a young man –no older than your princess, I am sure –saved me. I owed him a debt. Yet…All he asked of me was to make him something that would grow with his child.”

“And so you made the circlet.”

“And grow with her it did.” She nodded once, watching as the metal melted down slowly. “You do know what it means to present a weapon to someone, correct?”

“I do.”

The Armorer watched him before taking the molten steel from the flame and moving it to the forge. “Then I will make it into what you ask. Your signet will be imprinted into the blade.” Din nodded once, watching as she poured it into the shape of a dagger. “Your clan of two will become three.”

“Thank you.”

*****

“Well?”

“Well what?” Calisto snapped, tapping her nails against the control panel of her ship, glaring at the screen. 

Silas Credence stood in the doorway, hands behind his back. Calisto wanted him out of her hair, but she couldn’t risk another death so close to her. The Senate was already whispering about her husband’s sudden passing; assuming things. Silas was simply lucky that Calisto wasn’t willing to risk her freedom yet. 

“Have you located my bride or not?” 

Calisto breathed heavily through her nose, nostrils flaring. Perhaps handing her only daughter off to the man was in bad taste, but it was the only thing he wanted in return for handing over Senex’s seat in the Senate. Besides, the little chit should have been patient and just waited him out. He was a frail thing, probably about to keel over at any point. 

But no. The princess just had to make things difficult and run. And then, as if that wasn’t inconvenient enough, she had to find herself with a Mandalorian of all people. 

Calisto didn’t particularly want to deal with a Mandalorian, though she also didn’t think he’d take so long in delivering her daughter. She was under the impression that Mandalorians followed through on their deals; honor and all that. But a little over a month had passed, and Calisto was starting to grow impatient. 

Her droids had been entirely useless. And when she made contact with that fool Karga on Nevarro, he didn’t have any follow up information about the bounty. Just that a Mandalorian took it up and left several weeks ago. 

She decided that if this was going to be done soon, and done right, she would have to damn well do it herself. 

“I have her located, yes.”

Some backwater planet in the Outer Rim planets, Sorgan, was where her daughter had ended up. Calisto loathed the idea of trucking through woods and farmlands —she avoided it when her husband did it —but if that’s where her child was, that was where Calisto would go. 

“We will be landing on Sorgan in an hour,” Calisto explained, moving away from the panel to stand in front of the window of the ship. “Let me locate her and talk sense into her. If she sees you, she will run again.”

“You should have taught her what her purpose was long before me,” Silas hissed, standing beside her now. “Even if she was not intended for me, no one worth their snuff wants a wife that bites.”

“You brought that upon yourself,” Calisto sneered. “I told you to leave her be until your wedding night. It is bad enough you do not leave her ladies alone.”

“It is my right —,”

“Shut up, Credence.” 

The old man snapped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes at her. But he did not argue. 

*****

She sat on her knees at the edge of the water, shaking out a basket of krill. Omera was chatting with her idly, explaining the history of the village. There was always something new to be learned, and she appreciated that Omera was willing to teach her. However, she was a bit distracted. Din had returned from his side quest early on that morning, having greeted her with a soft hello and his forehead pressed against hers. When she had asked what he was doing, he simply turned her around and tied the fabric around her eyes and kissed her.

“You and Mando seem very happy here,” Omera commented, smiling at her. “Happy together. And the child seems to adore you.”

She looked at her hands for a moment, admiring the dirt under her nails and the wrinkles that had developed from the water. Her cheeks felt hot as she thought of Din, and the way they spent their time together. Back to the kiss they shared that morning. The way his mouth felt on hers –which was only heightened by the fact she couldn’t see him when he kissed her. The other night, when he had her slip into her gown again, she felt powerful with him on his knees in front of her. And the thought of that alone made her chest tighten.

“I…he’s kind to me,” she admitted, glancing at him for a moment before she looked back at her hands. “I think he might ask –,”

“Oh please, don’t say those words. It’ll only break your heart more.”

Omera whipped around, but she stared in horror at the water in front of her. Her blood ran cold as she slowly looked over her shoulder. Calisto stepped forward —Grogu in her arms. Omera moved to stand, to introduce herself, but she shot her arm out to stop the widow. She stood instead, slowly rising from the ground, eyes on Grogu who looked confused as he reached out for her. 

“Mother,” she greeted, tone stern and dare she say, intimidating. “Give me the child.”

Din had turned from the villagers, hand on his blaster. But she motioned for him to stop, sending him a sideways glance as he slowly stepped towards the two. Omera looked between the three of them, eyes wide.

“Why? Have you taken in a ward in the month that you have played runaway?”

“He has nothing to do with me running from you,” she seethed, taking a half step forward. “Let him go.”

Calisto pressed a finely manicured nail into Grogu’s belly, causing the baby to giggle. Calisto feigned a motherly smile —the same she would use to placate her daughter when she was young. She knew her mother well enough that she wouldn’t hurt a baby; not intentionally. She was a cruel woman, but not that cruel. But Din was seething, she could practically feel his anger radiating. 

“No, no. You are right, he does not,” her mother hummed, looking at Grogu with utter disinterest. “I wonder where this maternal instinct of yours came from.”

“Certainly not you,” she sneered, narrowing her eyes. “Give him to the Mandalorian.”

Her mother hummed again, slowly turning her gaze to Din, who was standing close behind her now. “On one condition.”

She closed her eyes, biting her tongue. She knew the condition; of course she knew. And Din knew too –she felt him tense up behind her, hand frozen on her lower back. Calisto wanted her home —needed her to fulfill the bargain she made with Credence. There was never any escape for her, and there never would be. Din was right to stay paranoid.

“Fine. But give me the baby first.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Calisto hissed, rolling her eyes. “If you think I trust you, then you are sorely mistaken, child. Bring the Mandalorian; he will get the baby when you are secured in the ship.”

She glanced back at Din, who was standing still behind her, no doubt determining every way he could kill Calisto where she stood.

“Come now, child. Am I not being fair? I am a woman of my word —you know that.”

“Even when your word harms your own child?”

“I never said my words were good. Just that I honor them. And I gave Silas Credence my word that he would have a wife.” Calisto stepped forward, reaching out to grab her by the arm and yank her forward. Din tried to intervene, but she pushed him back. Her mother’s voice was low, drenched in venom as Calisto got into her face. “You have embarrassed me. You could have had anyone you wanted —you could have hired that bounty hunter as your guard and kept him around until Credence died. Maker above, you could have bedded him while Credence was alive for all I care. But you were stupid, and impulsive. And now you have lost both your freedom and your fool Mandalorian.”

She tried to pull herself free, but her mother always had a painfully iron grip. There was a reason she rarely caused trouble as a child —her mother was the one who punished her. A very quick lesson was learned the first time she disobeyed. It was one of those moments that showed her who her mother really was. But she did not show her fear; she would never give her mother that satisfaction. 

“At least give him the credits he earned,” she argued, practically being dragged through the village. “At least do that.”

Calisto let out a nasty scoff, shaking her head. “Why, pray tell, would I give him anything?”

“He didn’t kill me when I offered to pay him to.”

“Yet he stole you away, breaking the Guild’s rules,” her mother reminded her, looking over her shoulder at Din, who was hot on their heels. The smile on her face screamed wicked. “I should have him executed for kidnapping the Princess of Senex.”

Quickly, she shook her head, digging her heels into the ground, trying to stop. “I gave him everything I had,” she lied, looking up at her mother. “I told him it was half; I promised him the other half when I found refuge. You cannot blame the man for trying to make more than the original bounty.”

Calisto eyed her closely, shoving her forward towards the Senex ship. For a moment, Calisto considered her options, looking between the baby and the hunter. Then she pushed her daughter up into the hull and set the baby on the ground. She knew her daughter was lying; knew well that Din had helped her escape. But Calisto didn’t care enough about the whole ordeal to keep arguing with the little chit in her hold.

“Take it,” she ordered Din, then pulled a small pouch from the pocket of her cloak. She threw it beside Grogu. “I will say this once, and only once. The moment you are found on Senex, I will raze this entire planet —and everyone on it.”

Din scooped Grogu up into his arms, trying to console the child who was now sobbing for his princess. As the door of the ship shut, she locked eyes with Din —but there was no fear to be seen. She stood tall as she shut into the ship. A handful of the villagers stood back as the ship’s engines ignited and took off, taking his princess with it. Grogu cried out, reaching out. 

Omera stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Mando, I –,”

“Have the villagers load the Crest for me,” he ordered, turning away and storming his way towards his own ship. There was nowhere in the galaxy that Calisto of Senex could hide from him –he would find her, he would end her. And he would save the woman he loved.

“Let’s go save our princess, kid.”

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

[all-pacas]

Never realized I until I binge watched this time that the episode where Chase and Cameron first have sex is the episode before his dad died. Once again I must ask if he’s doing okay (he’s not) and can time loving people without making me wonder if he’s displacing daddy issues

It's actually even more nuts! Because in The Mistake, they give a timeline; Stacy actually gives us dates. The Mistake aired, for context, November 29, 2005. Episodes last multiple days usually, but we know from holiday episodes they tend to take place around the air date. (Hunting aired November 22nd) So according to Stacy:

Cursed aired on March 1st, 2005. In the episode, Rowan tells House he has about three months. This turns out to be an overestimate.

Kayla first showed up to the clinic May 11th, 2005. This puts that case right between Love Hurts and Three Stories in the episode order. This is also just a couple weeks after the whole Vogler debacle. Chase was very much on House's shitlist for most of that spring, only seeming to get off it around Kids, after a last hurrah of bullying.

Kayla leaves the clinic, and returns the next day for a planned followup. This is when Chase gets the phone call his dad died, so Rowan Chase died either the 11th or 12th of May.

Everything goes wrong with Kayla, but she gets a liver transplant and lives three more months before being diagnosed with (her brother's) cancer. Chase is doing follow ups and seems to be pretty close to her and the family at this point: she's filling him in on her kids, he's someone they trust. This would be around August. Once the cancer is diagnosed, Chase says Kayla dies "a week later." So probably still August, maybe September. Presumably, the hearing is still scheduled, but Chase seems to be doing okay. His dad's been dead a few months, Kayla and her family like him. He's made a mistake, but he's dealing with it.

Chase continues to be her brother's doctor and point of contact. And this is where it gets good. "Last week," Stacy says, the brother suddenly decided to sue. A week before The Mistake, Chase finds out Kayla's family (who he likes!) has to move and has no money and in a fit of self-flagellation, he lies to her brother and provokes him. He has to provoke him. Chase actually works pretty hard at it:

SAM: Ever since the operation I've been on disability and there's the mortgage so… moving out of state somewhere cheaper. Anyways, thanks. [they shake hands, Sam is not at all mad at Chase.] CHASE: [as Sam is leaving] I killed your sister. I misdiagnosed her ulcer. Killed her. SAM: Shut up man. She liked you, just— CHASE: [not meeting his eyes] I was hung-over when she came back to see me. I'd been up half the night drinking, had a headache and I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Couldn't have cared less what your sister was saying about her stomach pain. [Sam kicks a table or something, makes a mess. Chase flinches.]

He really has to try to get the brother to hate him! He puts in a fucking EFFORT! And it's at that point the brother decides to sue and destroy Chase's career, because Chase feels guilty and wants the family to get the money and not have to move.

And again. This was a week ago. What else happened a week ago???????

I am insane about this. Absolutely insane. Cameron, quite possibly, tells Chase he's not a good guy the same exact day Chase had already convinced a man who liked him that he was in fact a bad person. Of course Chase immediately fucks her (and falls in love with her). Of course

[queen-of-deans-booty]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: relationship angst, giving the silent treatment, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I wanted to ask for spn lucifer x reader…they are married she would have been a hunter in the past, but she left the business with him, "giving up" on being the devil, and they actually like live normal life…once she gives him the silent treatment because he was "mean" to sam and dean (they are like brothers), and he just He does little things to kind of get her off her chest so she can talk to him (even if it's shouting), and when she tries to do or fix the little things he did/ or broken but without talking to him yet he just goes to the guys (the brothers, cass and jack) for help and apologizes just to make it up to her!!! (the boys make fun of him but he accepts defeat because not talking to her is worse than having people irritate him

Summary: Your passion is sewing and you love to make clothes and blankets for people, especially the Winchesters whom you consider to be family. When you overhear a conversation you shouldn't have heard, you get pissed enough at Lucifer to give him the silent treatment. Best thing? He has no idea what he's done but he'll try hard to make it right.

Square Filled: never go to bed on an argument for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Three down only ten more to go. You have a lot of people who want to buy dresses from you so you’re slowly making your way through the list of orders from people. You’re only on the first order but you’ve gotten done three of the thirteen items they wanted. Sewing and making clothes and blankets is your dream. You love making things people can wear or snuggle with, and you’ve always had this passion ever since you could write.

You’d draw your designs and show your mom who was also a seamstress for a clothing store. She entertained your ideas and gave you a small sewing kit that you’d use to make your Barbie’s clothes. She was so impressed that she got you into sewing classes as soon as possible. You started off making small things like gloves, oven mitts, baby clothes, and other easy projects before working your way up to the harder items.

Now, you have your own business that is run by you and only you, and you work out of your home. You don’t have the money to buy a big store or hire employees. Plus, you kind of like doing it all by yourself. At least you can look at someone wearing your clothes and say, “Yes, I made that all on my own.” or “They’re wearing an original Y/N.”. You pour love and pride into every piece you make and it shows.

The door opens and your husband walks in with a look of confusion.

“Have you been here all day?”

You look at him like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“I have orders to make.”

“Being in your room all day isn’t going to help you. You need to get out and move around.” You know he’s right, and your ass is hurting from sitting all day. You nod in agreement and get up, setting your project aside for now. “Come on, let’s go on a walk.”

Never did you think you’d ever go on a brisk walk with the actual devil. The neighborhood you live in is very mellow so you go a few laps around it.

“Want to hear what I’m working on?”

“Sure.”

“So, Janice across the street asked for baby clothes for her daughter’s kid, Bruce and David want some slacks for David’s new job next month, and Ruby from the diner wants a blanket. Ooh! What if I make us another blanket?”

“Darling, we have eighty blankets in the house already.”

“And?”

“We have enough,” Lucifer laughs and kisses the top of your head.

Who is he and what has he done with your husband? He is so not the man you met years ago. He was so much harder and meaner than he is now. After Sam killed Lilith and brought the devil out of the cage, he was one of the meanest men you’ve ever met. His behavior and attitude were atrocious.

It didn’t get any better even after Sam let him in so he could trap him in the cage with Adam and Michael. The cage stayed closed for five years until Amara was released because Dean got his Mark removed from his arm by the Book of the Damned. Lucifer convinced Castiel that he could possess him so that he could leave the cage, and he wreaked havoc on the world because of it. After Amara expelled him from Castiel’s body, he disappeared for a while. He decided that he was going to be done with all this shit.

That’s when you came back into his life. He met you again after he had come to terms with living a simple life. Sam and Dean had pissed you off enough that you wanted to be solo for a while, and you and Lucifer formed a relationship. The Winchesters weren't thrilled to hear you had a thing for the devil, but they trusted you enough to know what you were doing.

You had scammed your way into a very nice resort where he was staying and hit it off. Eventually, you got married to him. You’re not a hunter anymore, he’s not the devil anymore, it’s just you and him until death parts you. Lucifer’s changed behavior is all because of you. Before you, he was angry at the world for what his dad did to him but after you, he wanted to live for you and for you only.

Only after you’ve finished with all of your commissions, you start working on some stuff for the Winchesters. Winter is coming up, and the Bunker has a terrible heating system. You figured they could use a few extra jackets, shirts, and blankets.

They gave you a key to the Bunker should you ever need to use it, so you let yourself in carrying the clothes. Sam and Dean are talking to someone in the library so they don’t notice you coming down the metal staircase in the war room. Suddenly, Lucifer’s voice is heard, and you look at the entryway in confusion. Why is he here? What does he want from the brothers?

“I can’t trust you to do anything! You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!”

“Maybe next time give us better instruction,” Dean argues.

“God, you had one job and you managed to fuck that up. Typical,” he scoffs.

Why is he being so mean to Sam and Dean? You’re hurt he’d say such vile and mean things to the two men you consider family. You leave the clothes on one of the control panels before leaving the Bunker quickly. You don’t let them know you were ever here. If Lucifer wants to resort to who he was before, then he can but you’re not going to stand by him.

Lucifer comes home hours later in a good mood. You’re in the kitchen cooking food for yourself when he enters. He frowns when he sees enough food for one person in the pan.

“Is that food for both of us?” he asks. You don’t answer him and continue to cook in silence. “Y/N?” Still, no answer. “Darling, are you okay?” No answer. “Are you ignoring me? What did I do?” Again, no answer. “Y/N?”

You don’t go to bed that night because you and Lucifer have a thing where you never go to bed on an argument. Instead, you make more clothes. Lucifer didn’t go to bed either mostly because he kept thinking about why you’re ignoring him. What did he do to piss you off? In the morning, he goes to the room where you make your clothes to try and talk to you but finds the door is locked.

“Y/N, open the door.” No answer. He can hear your sewing machine so he knows you’re in there. “Come on, darling, open the door.”

He is at a loss for words because he doesn’t understand what he did to make you like this. He gives you the space you need for the morning, but you need food eventually so you leave the room in search of some. Lucifer is in the kitchen when you get there but you make no move to acknowledge him.

Lucifer is drinking some water and reading a newspaper. He finishes the water before dropping the glass on the ground. The glass shatters and he watches your reaction to it. He doesn’t care if all you’re going to do is yell at him. He just wants you to do something. You pause and look at the glass on the ground before grabbing the broom. You don’t say a word as you clean it up and throw it away.

“I just broke a glass! You should be pissed at me. Yell at me! Something!” Lucifer gasps. Again, you don’t respond to him. “Fuck!” He walks over to you and points his finger in your face but doesn’t actually touch you. He knows you fucking hate this which is why he’s doing it. He’s such a fucking child. “I’m not touching you. You can’t get mad at me because I’m not touching you.”

You stand still and wait for him to be done before moving around him and heading back to your room to sew. Lucifer doesn't know what to do so he visits the Winchesters in search of answers. Castiel and Jack are in the room, too. Great, more people to witness this humiliation.

“Here to berate us some more?” Dean asks.

“I need your help,” he sighs.

“What?”

“I said I need your help.”

Before Sam can answer, Dean cuts in.

“Sorry, let me just take in this moment. You need us. Isn’t that something?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“No, I definitely will.”

“What do you need?” Sam asks.

“Y/N isn’t talking to me. She’s ignoring me and I have no idea what I did to piss her off. What do I do? I don’t care if she yells at me. I need her to do something.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there, buddy,” Dean shrugs.

“Does she know you’re an ass?” Castiel asks seriously.

“Yeah, let’s make fun of me. Seriously, you’re so funny.” Lucifer mocks laughs in their faces, ready to punch the shit out of them. “What do I do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know what I should be apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. All women want to hear is that you’re sorry. Try that. It might get her talking,” Dean sighs.

Lucifer goes home with more questions than answers. Still, he thinks about their words the whole way home. When he gets there, you’re in the living room watching one of your shows. As soon as you know he’s there, you tense and turn the volume up on the TV. He walks around to face you but you don’t look at him.

“Darling, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” you ask and look at him.

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. You scoff as you get up from the couch. You go to leave the room but Lucifer is hot on your heels.

“I am sorry, but you can’t expect me to read your mind to figure out why you’re so pissed at me. You have to communicate, darling. What did I do?”

“You berated Sam and Dean and put them down for what? ‘You two are brainless, hairless apes who have no idea what the fuck you’re doing!’ Does that ring a bell? You treat them like shit.”

“I’ve said worse things to them.” You cross your arms angrily. “Look, I am sorry. I have a really bad temper, and I was trying to surprise you with something. I needed their help getting it but they did it wrong. It pissed me off because I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“What is it?”

Lucifer takes you to one of the unfinished rooms in the house. You never got around to actually finishing it, but Lucifer has been working on it without you knowing. You walk in and gasp at what you see. Machines are lined up on the back wall, rolls and rolls of fabric hang off tubes, mannequins are in the other corner, and everything else you need to have a successful sewing business.

“I wanted it to be perfect and I took it out on them. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You rush into the room and admire everything he’s done for you. He’s trying to apologize but you’re too busy being excited.

“Is this all for me?!”

“Yeah, everything,” he smiles. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!!”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Not talking to you was killing me.”

Lucifer pulls you into him and kisses you, glad to have overcome this with you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[estelofrivendell]

You’ve Got A Friend In Me (Aragorn x Female Reader)

a/n: clara actually posting a one shot??? shocker, right? anyway, i started this months ago and only finished it now. it’s not really x reader, but oh well. also, there may or may not be inspiration taken from to kill a mockingbird. i won’t elaborate and you will see it when you see it. i don’t really see this as a part three of “a change of heart” but you can if you want to. also, don’t question the toy storyesque title.

summary: you’re convicted of a crime you actually didn’t do and all the odds are against you because of your reputation. aragorn is the only one to believe you are innocent and does what he can to help you get cleared of all charges.

word count: 2,1k

warnings: none really other than mentions of murder

During your first meeting, Aragorn prayed to whatever God was up there to have you locked up for your crimes sooner or later. He never thought it would actually happen considering how lousy the whole system was. Yet the wishes he no longer held were answered, which he thought was only done to spite him. When news of the lords declaring you a fugitive, he prayed you would be guided into safety and away from the authorities before asking why they wanted you.

“Do you need to ask?” A considerably young ranger laughed. “That woman is a menace. It was about time those poor souls were brought to justice, and this is long overdue.”

Aragorn growled. “That does not answer my question.”

The young ranger laughed once more, holding up his arms. “Calm down. They say she murdered one of those great lords in cold blood. Witnesses saw her near the castle when all the mess was going on. Can you believe it?”

No, I do not. She would never do that, not anymore.

Finding you wasn’t so difficult anymore. You were a slippery little snake that it took Aragorn a while to master the task of locating you. Today felt strangely easier than it was and he wondered if that was deliberate and you had been hoping he would find you.

You sure did not expect his visit as you aimed your knife at him, the tip close enough to his chin that it made a small cut, but you lowered it the moment you realised who it really was.

“Aragorn? What brings you here?”

“I believe you know what brought me here. Did you do it?”

“Kill the lord? No, though I would love that honour. I cannot tell you I am entirely innocent in this matter.”

You didn’t change entirely, you see. You still took payments (especially when the money came from a high bidder) and you were more than happy to carry out the execution of the worst of men, and the lord was no kind man. He was someone no one wanted to be around and Aragorn didn’t need to be told that you would love to kill him, yet he felt it in him that if you were going to be arrested for any crime, this was not it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said, turning away from him. “You need to get out of here. I don’t want you seen with me and I most certainly don’t want you to be involved in my problems, so do yourself a favour and save your sorry self from a conviction.”

Aragorn raised a brow. “You involve yourself in my affairs, why can I not do the same?”

You shot him a glare. “That is different, I was helping you. And if-”

“You don’t think I’m helping you? I’m telling you I believe you’re innocent, and no matter what you say to make yourself look bad, I’ll find a way to make sure you’re not tried for anything.”

“Then run away with me.” You offered your hand. “A life in the forests away from the city sounds nice. It’s what I always dreamed of as a young girl.”

If he wasn’t destined for something so big, he would not hesitate to take up your offer. Even then, he imagined a life with you and he believed it to be so cozy and perfect. He was no stranger to waking up beside you and he longed for your company that getting to do it every morning sounded like a utopia.

“I… cannot.”

“Why not? You have nothing going for you. Just the same old rangering, nearly getting yourself killed while the people you protect don’t thank you for your service. Would you prefer a life with me, where we have all the freedom we can get? We can explore the world together, unbounded by expectations and obligations.”

“I may not like what I do, but it is still my duty to protect the men of Bree.”

Hurt, you turned away from him and left. “Well, you made your choice and I have made mine. I am sorry they are incompatible, but there is no use to convince you. I wish you all the luck if there is any left.”

-

Each day, Aragorn misses you, but does not regret not following you. He would kill for you, but he would not pick you over the crown. It was the heaviest price he ever paid in his life and he is sure nothing else can compare.

Over time, his life is the same as it was before he met you. Hunt orcs, occasionally meet Gandalf, return to Rivendell, eat and sleep. Rinse and repeat.

It had been three months, shy of Midsummer when he heard about your whereabouts. Expecting neutral at worst news, he ensured to look like he was not paying attention and almost lost his train of thought when they started to go into more detail.

“Word has it that the woman thought to murder the lord had been found by authorities just last week. She put up a good fight, killing the guards and escaped the first time, but they caught her this time, not without issue though. She’s been brought back here for a trial.”

“Here? Why?” A young man asked, stupidly.

“Because this is where the murder happened,” said the man calmly. “I’m more surprised she’s getting a trial in the first place. Murderers like her deserve a lifetime sentence, plus 150 years, without the possibility of bail. In fact, the guillotine will do.”

A young woman around the same age as you spoke up. “There’s no way she’s getting a sentence lower than that. I mean, she steals a lot, and that’s not worth a death sentence in my book, and all those conspiracy murders everyone spoke of had no evidence, but this one did.”

“So, when is the trial?” The young woman asked.

“In two months time, assuming no delays.”

-

After a lot of difficult convincing on his end, side eyes he received, and suspicion that he was someone to not be trusted, Aragorn received the location of the maximum security prison and the specific cell you were held at. The guards asked him a lot of questions before letting him see you, let alone giving you privacy. 

When you saw him, you shot up and clenched your hands around the bars. A friendly face was long overdue. “It’s over, Strider. No point in making me feel better. I lost the moment they found me and there’s no turning back.”

“Don’t say that. Have some faith in yourself. I know you didn’t do it-“

“And do you have proof for that? God, I’m grateful to have you, and I’m grateful that you believe I didn’t do it, but you’re a delusional man. Go home. Find a woman to fuck, marry and have babies with. Forget about me. You’re smarter than this.”

“I know many people that can help you. I’ve been looking around and speaking to them, and they agreed to look into it. Some of them have been given permission to investigate.”

“Strider.” Only until now did you start crying, and Aragorn never saw you cry. He thought you crying was something he never thought he would see. “Stop that. You don’t have to do that.”

“What friend would I be?”

“You’re risking your own life for me.” You sobbed. “I don’t want you to jeopardise your own life to save mine. Please, stop this, go home. You have nothing to do with this.”

Suddenly, the door opened and two guards roughly grabbed Aragorn and pulled him away. “Time’s up,” one of them gruffly said to him as you mouthed “don’t resist.” He reluctantly listened. He was a lot stronger than everyone here combined and could knock them out in one hit, but if he wanted to finish his plan of ensuring you were proven innocent, beating up the guards was not the way to do it.

Once he was thrown out of the prison, he looked at the architecture and noted how miserable it was. He could tell you were losing your mind each passing minute and only hoped that you would recover as soon as you were released.

-

One of the people he paid to investigate the lord’s death had summoned him to a private place at night. 

“I think you need to hear this. Last night, we went over the body and we discovered enormous hand marks on the victim’s neck and marks on his right eye. The hand prints are too big to belong to a woman and the injuries on his eye could mean a left-handed man did it.”

Aragorn has met women with quite large hands, but the news only confirmed that you didn’t kill him, as he was aware you had small hands. You were also indeed right handed.

“With this proof in mind, it’s hard for me to believe she did it. I don’t know who did it, but I don’t believe it’s her.”

-

Aragorn snuck his way in your trial and watched from above, making sure to keep discreet. After the introduction and overview of your charges, and people fighting it out with you remaining silent, you were suddenly asked a question that piqued his interest.

“Can you read and write?”

“Yes, I can.”

Everyone present stared at each other, muttering amongst each other, shocked that a woman who was most certainly not noble and was uneducated knew how to read and write.

You were asked to write out what the judge said, word by word with both hands. The most eloquent speech with advanced words yet you had no struggle writing them down, with your right hand, confusing everyone.

The man that asked you to write remained calm the entire time, as if he was unsurprised, startling you a bit.

“You see, the woman here wrote with her right hand, with perfect handwriting, while her writing with her left hand is nearly illegible. This could only mean she is right handed. The lord was discovered with bruises on the right side of his face, which if we assume she is the murderer, would be probable if she is left-handed. But she is not.”

“Secondly, there were big handprints around the lord’s neck. The woman here has quite small hands. A woman’s strength could only do so much to try and choke a man let alone with small hands.”

The trial went on and on, but came to an end, a good one, since you were cleared of your charges. Due to the everyone’s shock and confusion, and how the evidence countered their expectations, no one cheered nor jeered at the decision. It was dead silent and everyone left without uttering a single word.

Aragorn only smiled to himself, but his smile fell when you ignored him.

-

And life in Bree went on.

Everyone spent a week talking about how they had wrong thoughts of you, while others were still convinced you didn’t do it. A couple others just didn’t care and were annoyed to even hear about you. But after a week, the chatter all died down and everyone minded their own business, unless it was something about their married neighbor beginning an affair with another woman. 

Aragorn found you at your place, cleaning your home with a lot of things packed.

“Going somewhere?”

“Finishing what I did not get to,” you said, not looking at him. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if you are well.”

“I am… well, I suppose. I’m not in a shitty cell with a similar embodiment to hell anymore.”

“I don’t expect a thanks or-”

“Thank you,” you suddenly said, finally facing him. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I really did think it was over for me.”

“I don’t blame you for doubting me, but I am your friend. You helped me before and it’s about time I returned the favour.”

“I am still going away for a while. I do not think I want to come back to Bree after a short time with everything that has happened. I understand you do not want to come with me, but I will come back, I promise.”

“About that. I think I decided that I do want to travel with you. It’s that this time, we’re not running away from something terrible.”

You ran towards him to give him a hug, perhaps the biggest hug he ever had in his life, and he heard you start to cry again. This time, you were not crying out of desperation.

No, you were crying of happiness. Happiness because you get to travel around the world with your favourite person, and the only person in your life left that mattered.

[thatsatricky1]

† 𝕽𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 † ‘Punishment’ chapter 𝟙

Synopsis: Y/n a once prodigy child, later on detective, finds herself working on the case of her brother’s murder, also a former detective himself. Leading down a long winding hole of crime, death, gore and mixed feelings she never thought would surface with all that was happening. Mixed feelings that should never even be entertained.

Pairing: Ateez Ot8 x AFAB (F) Reader

Genre: Crime, Horror, Mystery, Romance & Thriller.

Warnings: Blood, death, fire, physical violence, trauma.

Word count: 3,3k+

Disclaimer: This does not depict an accurate picture of Ateez and this is strictly fantasy.

Muffled whimpers of pain were the only sounds besides a light hissing noise in the air of the room. The once white marbled floors were tainted with random splatters of rich red blood. The furniture that had once been laid out in a meticulous way now were in a disheveled state.

“Would you like to know what gave it all away? What made it so painfully easy to understand exactly who did it?” A female voice called out from the opposite side of the now wrecked room.

The only response she got was a pained groan and a disgustingly wet choked noise. A mangled, bloody, injured male coiled in on himself as if he was still in a healthy enough state to protect himself from another brutal and violent attack if needed. It was obvious the injured man would not be able to defend himself anymore.

“You got cocky, not to mention how sloppy you’d been compared to the usual carefully, obsessively clean kills you’d done before.” She called out, sharp eyes drinking in the sight ahead of her.

The injured man gave no response, instead trying his best to move, though it was a feeble and pathetic attempt. Only managing to raise his upper body off the ground with one shaky arm, the other held against his stomach to put pressure against the bloody wound he’d gotten. His own legs laid useless beneath him.

“You were high on the feeling of being above anyone else, and that pride was really your demise. Seeing as you ended up being quite sloppy with this one, very messy I must say.” She continued criticising his past actions.

The injured male couldn’t continue holding his own weight up, back crashing into the wall behind him causing his head to knock quite harshly. His body reacting negatively to more pain as he dry heaved, only spit flinging past his lips no more vomit left to come up his throat and past his mouth. The vomit he’d expelled earlier laid just beside him.

“And don’t get me started on your trademark, god what a cliche. A playing card, really? It just screams never loved as a child. Not to mention how incredibly dumb it was for a former juvenile to leave a fingerprint on it, granted it was only half a thumb print but it was enough.” She mocked him further, enjoying knocking his pride down, embarrassing him.

The male’s body trembled slightly, whether from anger at the onslaught of embarrassment or pain of the wound inflicted upon him no one would know but himself but it could have well been both. He managed to turn his blurred gaze ahead at the woman, eyes scrunching in pain as he tried to speak but all that came out was a scratchy hoarse cough.

The female watching let out an amused laugh of the injured male’s misfortune. Something that had been coming for him for a long time now after what he had done.

“Too easy. Really it was childsplay in the end. I’d already figured it out months ago.” She revealed her knowledge of the man’s cruel actions had been discovered long ago.

The woman finally standing up from the modern slick white chair she’d sat in for under three minutes. Body still for only a moment before she took a step forward.

The injured man cowering away, which did not help as his back dug painfully into the wall behind him, trapped with nowhere to go but forwards, which was a waiting death sentence. Though his view was blurred he could tell she watched him with calculated eyes, as if ten steps ahead of him.

“Though I’d known for so long. I let you believe you were safe. Let you settle, drop your guard down. Make you believe that you’d actually gotten away with killing him and every victim before him.” She pushed on one slow step at a time.

“I mean you must have felt like a god when you, a nobody good for nothing less than average serial killer, managed to kill a detective. But what you forgot to think about or maybe even look into was what department he was from, more importantly if he had any relatives.” She continued but now stood in front of him, standing above him.

The injured man winced as he craned his head upwards to look at her. Yet all he got in return was an amused look, humored by his obvious pain caused by no other than herself. Silently moving to crouch in front of him, his gaze following her.

“You killed L/n B/n exactly nine months two hundred and seventy four days ago, that’s nine months and one day. That’s exactly how long I’ve been waiting to return the favour, to show you exactly how he felt in his last moments.” The amused look she wore was wiped away.

“Unfortunately for you, you killed my brother. More unfortunate for you I am a really good fucking detective. So was my brother, you just caught him by surprise with a dirty trick. You killed him for your own sick twisted pleasure not thinking of the consequences. Not thinking you’d get caught. But you did. And now, now you get to experience the very same torturous pain you inflicted on my brother.”

Her tone not wavering nor changing in tone as her hand moved to grasp the man’s chin tightly so his gaze could not stray from hers. His eyes wide in panic and disbelief. Tears welling and pooling in his eyes at the realisation he’s been toyed with this whole time.

She tugged him closer by his chin watching the way he held back a noise that still gurgled in his throat.

“You wouldn’t. You can’t. It’s against your code/ You can’t kill me.” The man croaked out, a crazed mocking smile he showed with blood smeared across the obnoxiously white teeth he had. A feeble last attempt. Fake smugness on his face as he desperately hoped to not die.

“Maybe I would have let you just rot in prison, of course before you killed my brother in cold blood. But now? Now it’s different. I’m starting with you, and I will work my way through the disgusting organisation you serial killers have managed to build up. There might be corruption in the justice system, but I’m not one of them. I will not let you go unpunished.” Her response was sharp and to the point.

Her grip on his chin disappeared causing his head to drop from the exhaustion of blood loss he’d had, though not enough to die. Moving to stand up, she continued staring down at him.

“This is your punishment Kim Do. May you rot in hell and never find peace.” Y/n spoke her final words to her brothers murderer.

Turning away from him while pulling a metal lighter out of her pocket.

Kim Do manages to look up using all his strength, eyes glancing at the lighter, before moving to see her watching something, his eyes following her gaze to the kitchen from the open living room.

“No, no, no, no. You can’t do this to me. I AM KIM DO. YOU CAN’T DO THIS. I AM A FUCKING GOD.” Kim Do panicked sobbing now yelling angrily at the fact he was about to die. How he’d not noticed the smell of gas in the air this whole time, that she’d managed to turn his stove on through their fighting at one stage. That he’d been bested.

Y/n only walked away from the manic man who sobbed and yelled out till she made it to the door, pushing it open wordlessly. Taking a far step outwards before facing him again.

Kim Do heaving now as he stared her down, she opened the cover of the metal lighter absentmindedly toying with him as she tapped it lightly. Kim Do’s hand that had been held against his wound on his stomach falling to the ground with no more point to trying to stop the bleeding.

Whatever was at the tip of Kim Do’s tongue that he wanted to say never got the chance to leave his lips as Y/n finally lit the lighter, chucking it into the house while shutting the door with a slam. Kim Do’s scream of terror covered by the sound of chemicals reacting and exploding in twisted flames.

Y/n body relaxed in on itself, her body feeling a slight sense of peacefulness after nine months. Body warming up at the sudden high temperatures admitted even through the door. Taking a few more steps back.

Turning on her heels to make a swift and hidden exit, thoughts working in overdrive knowing she was long from finishing her personal mission. This organisation would go down, even if it would cost her own life as she did so. She had avenged her brother but she wasn’t done. She wanted revenge for every life lost to the hands of serial killers in Seoul. Y/n wanted retribution.

Drip

The obnoxious sound of water from the kitchen sink continued dripping from a pushed back much needed repair through the otherwise silent apartment besides the steady ticking of a clock.

Y/n sat at her dining room table, silently sitting on a plush chair moving to grab a wet makeup cloth remover. Swiping it across her cheek, the white slowly turned into a rich red wine colour as the blood that had splattered onto her face may have been dreier but was still too fresh to have oxidised into a rusty brown.

Her gaze however never strayed from the photo framed on the wall. It was a picture taken two nearly three years ago. Her grandfather, grandmother, brother and her, stuck in a frozen image.

The photograph had been taken in the elderly resident center where her grandmother had been placed for better 24/7 care. It had been taken at a moment where her grandmother had a clear moment which was rare and few in between. Remembering her husband and two grandchildren. Each one of the four smiling in delight at the camera that had been held by a hard working health care worker who used it to photograph the pure moment.

Her grip on the wet makeup wipe squeezing as she continued staring. Letting her eyes finally close, taking a deep breath in, letting go of the wipe that dropped onto the dining room table. Only the sound of the dripping tap and rhythmic ticking of the clock being present in the lonely house, one that used to be so full of life.

Only opening her eyes when her body relaxed, her eyes no longer on the framed photo and instead gazed down at her table. A blurry photo laid right next to the now dirty wet wipe.

“You have no idea what’s coming for you.” Y/n’s voice echoed through the empty living room dried blood from the one punch Kim Do had got on her dry now flaking against her nose and lip, gaze unmoving from the blurred photo.

The photo was of a dull building. A building people would pass by without a second thought. To others it was just some office building like any other, but it wasn’t just that. No, that was all just an illusion. A farce. For an ugly, horror filled organisation.

“Kim Do died.” Wooyoung declared as he walked into the room, seven pairs of eyes settling on him as he did so.

“You mean, Kim Do the guy who was likely going to get caught or die in the hands of one of his victims defending themselves against him since he was becoming sloppy?” Yeosang scoffed out from where he was sat on a black velvet couch, picking at his nails in boredom.

“Hilariously he died from a gas leak explosion. The disclosed file from the firestation explained the cause of the gas leak was from his stove. Though, the firestation was fast enough to get the fire under control so only Kim Do died and other residents in the building survived.” Wooyoung explained what he’d found out.

“At least we won’t have to deal with hearing his aggraving voice in the next meeting anymore.” Jongho hummed out from where he sat on the other black velvet couch polishing one of his many knives in his collection.

“God that guy would not shut up about the fact he killed a detective and got away with it.” San groaned out in annoyance, rubbing his face at the memories of Kim Do smugly mentioning it at least twice every time he showed up at a meeting.

“Maybe he didn’t get away with it.” Hongjoong finally spoke from where he stood facing the large window outlooking the city of Seoul.

“Pretty sure he did if any of his boring monologues about it went.” Yunho piped up, crossing his arms leaning against a pool table in the living room.

“Just a thought.” Hongjoong hummed out, absentmindedly tapping his finger against his belt.

The seven others watched him closely wanting to know what was going on in their leader's head.

Taking steady steps, Y/n continued her path down the long hallway. The building had a modern vibe to it like most office buildings in Seoul these days. With random objects, paintings and such brightening up the place. But it was the least of her concern.

“Like I said earlier, I’ll go check out all the fire exits and make sure the fire alarms are properly installed and still working along with the sprinkler systems. You will make sure all of the security cameras are in working order and don’t forget to check out the security office.” A man in his late 40s addressed Y/n, clearly fed up with his job and was counting down the days of retirement.

Y/n only nodded, not bothering to respond as they separated paths. It was child’s play as an undercover detective to easily fake job experience and go undercover with random jobs to help with cases. This may have been an overuse of her job perks but that wasn’t going to stop her. She could easily make up a plausible excuse later on.

Moving towards the elevator, Y/n moved her hand up, fingernails cased in black nail polish that was already chipping away with time, tugging her medical mask slightly more upwards to cover the bridge of her nose properly, the lower part of her face hidden with a baseball cap with the company logo on it covering most of the upper side of her face.

Clicking the upper elevator button, she stood silently, not having to wait long for the doors to open up. Stepping into the sleek and clean elevator and pressing the button for the tenth floor where she knew the security surveillance room was located.

Watching the numbers climbing higher and higher only for the elevator to slow down and stop at the eighth floor. Y/n making sure her body didn’t tense, muscles relaxed. Eye’s watching as the metal doors start opening again revealing two young men.

One slightly shorter than the other with light brown hair, wearing grey/blue washed out jeans that was held by a toned down studded belt, with a beige sleeveless shirt tucked into it and beige arm sleeves with a black see through jacket on top of it.

The taller of the two had jet black hair, most of his fringe being pushed back but also partially against his forehead, wearing plain black jean’s with a black leather belt to match, a tight black button up shirt tucked in with an also black leather jacket. An all black outfit.

Not particularly office coded dressing then again dress code was different in any working environment and she’d already seen multiple people wearing more than interesting and odd outfits today in the building.

Taking a step to the side so there was enough space for the men to enter, they took the opportunity to step in. The shorter of the two moved to stand in the center while the taller stood to the side of him.

“Could you press the eleventh floor button please.” The shorter spoke out causing her gaze to move to him, standing side by side. Y/n just giving a slight nod in answer, hand grazing the already lit up tenth floor button going to the right slightly to press the eleventh floor button.

Hongjoong’s gaze focusing on her fingers noting the black nail polish that needed to be redone soon from the way it was already chipping, his own fingers twitching at his sides, his fingernails freshly painted the night beforehand.

“More repairs?” The taller asked out as the elevator doors started to close causing Y/n to shift her gaze over to him now.

“Is there any more repairs to be done in the building, I could have sworn they were finished.” He gave more context to his question causing her to shake her head moving to look in front at the metal doors again.

“No, we are here to double check the safety on the fire exits, that the sprinklers are in working order in case of an emergency and that the security cameras are in working order.” Y/n sharply responded, tone never wavering as she explained why the ‘company’ was there today. Voice slightly muffled by the material of her mask.

The taller letting out a hum at this, eyeing the barely visible face. Though all three of their attention was stolen by the elevator opening again on the tenth level. Y/n swiftly making pace as she left the elevator not turning to give them a last glance instead making her way towards the security room that she currently mapped out in her head.

“Interesting.” Hongjoong muttered eyes glued to her figure leaving. Seonghwa only let out a small hum in agreement, his own eyes fixed on her departing figure as well, both only looking away when the doors closed.

Closing the security room door after excusing the security guard for ‘maintenance’ purposes, Y/n grabbed the dark brown leather rolling chair pulling it back so she could sit comfortably on it.

Hand shooting out towards the keypad flicking through camera channels seeing as not all the hundreds of camera angles could fit on the display screens. Finger pausing in its scrolling as her eyes landed on the middle security screen where it showed the eleventh floor hallway, a clear view of the elevator as it opens up.

The two men from before stepping out, a sort of smug confident aura encasing the two in the way they walked down the hallway. The shorter of the two taking his time to look up at the camera as if knowing who sat on the other side watching.

Flashing the camera a curious look with an amused quirk against his lips as he gazed at it. Eyes never leaving it until the two walked past. Y/n hand automatically flicking to the next camera watching the backs of the two men, leaning forwards slightly from the brown leather chair.

“Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa.” Y/n whispered out into the otherwise empty room with only her present revealing to know one she knew exactly who the two men had been. Her tone dripping with distaste.

“You have no idea just how difficult your lives will become very soon, along with every person you work with. Enjoy the peace and secrecy you believe you own for now. It won’t last long.”

Finishing her monologue she spoke to herself, Y/n got to work accessing past security video footage from multiple floors, placing a thumb drive down against the black stained wood of the desk she sat at.

Prologue | Chapter one | Chapter two

𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @hecateslittlewitchling

(Comment, message or Inbox me to be added to taglist)

𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: click here

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A walk in the woods

Week 1 of the Winter Writing Challenge

Prompt: "I can't believe you talked me into this"

Summary: Frankie talks you into taking a walk to the local farm to pick out a Christmas tree.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: G

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

If you want to get notified when I post new fics follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications

This was not how you had planned to spend your Saturday. It had been snowing all week. And with having to leave the house for work every single day, you were looking forward to catching up on housework and not leaving the house. Or wear pants.

People were going fucking crazy the closer Christmas came and you were looking forward to not dealing with stupid people for at least 48 hours. 

Maybe bake a cake. 

Or talk Frankie into spending the whole day cuddling on the couch while watching some shitty Christmas movie on TV. 

Frankie and you had only moved to this neighbourhood three months ago. 

You had gotten the job offer you had always dreamed of. The only problem was that it was in another state, far away from all your friends and family. 

Ready to decline the offer, it was Frankie who told you to take it. Who made plans with you, talked to real estate agents to find the perfect home for the two of you. More than once you asked him if he was sure it was the right thing to do. 

And he, like the perfect man he was, told you everything would be okay as long as you two were together.

Moving states also meant moving to a whole other climate with actual seasons, leaving you to experience your first real winter in twenty years. 

„I can’t believe you talked me into this,“ you pouted, zipping up your winter coat. Frankie grinned at you, wrapping a scarf around your neck, kissing your nose. 

Bella, your three year old Jack Russel terrier was already excitedly circling around the two of you, waiting to get outside. 

„Come ooon. It stopped snowing for the first time in days. We’re just walking up to the Farm to find the perfect Christmas tree, and then we can go home,“ he hummed. 

You sighed. 

„I put on pants for you. I was looking forward to no pants today,“ you dramatically whined. 

He grinned. 

„I’ll help you get out of them later,“ he winked before he kissed you. 

Okay this… wasn’t so bad. 

When you got to the farm they had hot drinks and some snacks. The area was huge, so you did not see many people on the hunt for the perfect Christmas tree, which you found rather quickly, letting Frankie handle the reservation and making a date to pick it up at the end of the next week. 

You powered out your dog in the meantime. Forming and throwing snow balls for her which she tried to catch with her little snout, barking at you when it disappeared and coming back for more. 

You picked her up after a while, just in time for Frankie to be finished, making his way back to you. 

„Ready to go home?“ He asked, taking your hand. You nodded and he took Bella from you to set her down, taking her leash. 

„Let’s take the way back through the woods,“ he kissed you softly and you smiled. 

„Okay I gotta admit, getting out of the house wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,“ you said as you slowly walked through the woods, back to you house. You looked up at Frankie who was still holding your hand, smiling up at him. 

Sometimes you were scared of how much you loved him. 

Things hadn’t always been easy, but you grew with every challenge, choosing to work through your problems, coming out stronger every single time. 

Frankie was your person, and he would not get rid of you so easily. 

„Told you so,“ Frankie said. Bella barked in that moment, making you both laugh. 

„You know I have to admit I was scared to just pack up our life and leave. And sometimes I miss our life back in California, well, I miss the people but… I’m glad you talked me into taking the job.“

„Couldn’t let my girl say no to her dream job. You are killing it. And honestly, I miss our friends too, but it’s also nice to have you all to myself,“ Frankie stopped walking and pulled you into his arms, kissing you. You wrapped your arms behind his back, smiling against his lips. 

„I’m so proud of you baby,“ he whispered and you pecked his lips. 

„Proud of you too. Three months and already getting promoted. We are killing this adult life thing,“ you kissed him again, both of you chuckling. Frankie had quickly found a job as a helicopter pilot for local emergency services.

Parting from him you took his hand and started walking again. 

„I’m freezing. Let’s get home,“ you said, only to cry out in surprise when the wind picked up and a whole bunch of snow from the trees above dumped down on both of you. 

„Oh my god,“ you began to laugh, wiping your eyes with your glove, Frankie’s hand still in yours. 

„What the fuck?“ Frankie laughed and you shook your head to get the remains of the snow off of you. You were still laughing when Frankie let go of you hand, and you looked at him just in time to see him dropping down to one knee in front of you. 

First alarmed that he had hurt himself you frantically searched for any injury when you noticed the small velvet box in his hand. 

Eyes widening your mouth dropped open in surprise, watching him smile cheekily up at you. 

„Frankie…“ you whispered. 

„Baby… I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask this question. I should have done this a long time ago, because I knew you were the one on the day that we met. I was pretty much in love with you the moment you walked through the door of the coffee shop where we met. These last years… Fuck I’ve never been so happy in my life and I keep waking up every day next to you, waiting that something is gonna happen, but all you do is love me for me. It’s… I love you. So much. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and making you smile and laugh and cum…“ he winked and you laughed, tears in the corner of your eyes. 

„I love you baby, will you marry me?“ He finally asked and you nodded.

„Of course I’ll marry you Frankie,“ you smiled and he seemed to breath out relieved. It was only then that you realised he had opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring. He got up from his knee, taking your hand and slowly pulling your glove off. 

„This ring was my grandmother’s. She and my pa were married for 64 years before they both died,“ he explained, taking the ring out of its box. 

It was a golden band with a small green stone. 

„It’s an emerald. Apparently it’s known as a symbol of truth and love,“ he explained while slipping the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly. 

„It’s beautiful,“ you whispered and he looked at you. 

„Yeah?“ He asked.

You nodded. 

He kissed you then, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible. 

„We’re gonna get married,“ he whispered in between kisses. 

„We’re gonna get married,“ you giggled back, your hand playing with the hair that was in his neck. 

Bella barked and you both looked down at her, having forgotten about her for a moment. She had found a huge branch, her whole body shaking excitedly as she nudged her nose against it, waiting for someone to throw it for her. 

You both laughed. 

„Come on, let’s get home,“ you said and he nodded. He carefully helped you put your glove back on, kissing your hand, before one of his arms pulled you against his side. 

„I gotta get my fiancé out of her pants,“ he whispered against your ear and you let your head fall against his shoulder.

Happier than ever before. 

[mychoombatheroomba]

Don't Let Go

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 36

You get some unexpected support, and you and Leon come to an understanding that neither of you likes.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

They had the day off, but the first thing that everyone wanted was answers.

To his credit, Krauser took the time to answer them all as best he could. 

“Why didn’t you warn us?” 

“I didn’t know.”

“Do they have the authority to even do that?” 

“. . . Yes.” 

“What are they so afraid of us blabbing about?” 

“You’ll be learning that in the coming weeks.” 

“Are those assholes really going to be staying?” 

“Yes.”

Leon stood in the back as the rest of the squad learned what he already knew: what they’d suffered for. What some of them were being sent home for. No one was happy with the answers given, but most understood. Leon understood. The reasoning, at least. Not the practice. Not the torture. He would never understand that. 

Nor would he understand the answer to the question Valeria hissed out, one that had been eating away at Leon, too. The one thing he wasn’t reasonably sure of, on Krauser’s end regarding the whole experience. 

“They had our letters,” she said, her foot tapping against the floor beneath where she sat on her bunk. “From months back.” 

Leon watched shadow overtake Krauser’s eyes, that crease between his brows deepening. 

“Hadn’t heard from my mom. Is it because they held those letters from us?” 

Krauser nodded once, his gaze unwavering even if it was full of regret. “Yes.” 

“And you knew?” Valeria pressed, hurt evident in her features. 

Another pause, before Krauser nodded. “Yes. STRATCOM procedure. No communication with the world outside during training.” 

“So any letters we sent home . . .” 

“. . . Were never sent.”

Top-secret shit, even before the bioweapons were brought into play. 

Not that it made the pill any easier to swallow. 

Still, the Major didn’t try to shift the blame off of himself, even as Valeria fixed him in a scalding glare. If looks could kill, Jack Krauser would be a pile of ash on the ground. “That’s bullshit,” Valeria snapped. “Sir.” 

“Watch that tone, Soto,” Krauser met her, steel for steel. Leon had seen the man make soldiers give him fifty push-ups for mouthing off . . . but he’d also seen him allow Leon to speak his mind. He’d seen the Major listen to Leon’s own concerns, even if the Major seemed to like quite literally everyone else better than him. So, even if he barked at Valeria now, Leon wasn’t surprised when a moment later, the Major just gave her an apologetic look. There were a lot of those that he gave that morning, until there were no more questions. 

None that anyone was brave enough to ask, anyway. 

Their personal effects were passed back out to them - the ones that had been abandoned in the Humvees when Reed and Hellman had taken the squad. Three days ago. Three days and a lifetime, it felt like. 

Just like how Raccoon City felt like a lifetime in one night. 

Pain had a way of doing that, didn’t it? Warping the world. A day became forever, forever became attached to the idea of something terrible. A cage with no bars. He wondered how long he and the rest would be stuck in that cage? How long the bruises would take to heal, how often, like last night, someone would hear movement in the barracks and jolt awake, expecting a blow for having fallen asleep . . .

Everyone was still so quiet as they unloaded their freshly returned packs. Hard not to be when Andersen and the other three who had failed were there, not bothering to join in the unpacking. What was the point if they were going to be gone by tomorrow anyway?

As for the rest, the day was theirs to do with as they pleased, and no one had any idea how to spend that free time. 

Not until heavy footfalls against the floor made Leon and those around him - Alenko, Williams and Valeria - look up, and they found the Major standing there, his hands behind his back. He looked at each of them, gaze sweeping from right to left before landing on Leon and hardening. Sharpening. Leon was sure then that he was about to hear a speech about his failure. About how he’d broken and the only reason that he and Valeria were being allowed to stay were because of Krauser’s own intervention. Or maybe that this entire thing was because of a request that Leon made. He could think of no other reason for the loathing in that stare. 

Instead, the Major looked back at the group as a whole. “Heard you had some trouble back at Fort Benning,” he said, and Leon’s brow furrowed. So the conversation wasn’t going to be about the beatings taken in those cells, but rather the one that he and the others had taken in defense of one another. “Got a call from Commander Cortez a few days back. Said you got into a fight. That you put twelve of his men in the hospital. That true?” 

That, too, seemed like a lifetime ago. Alenko was the one to nod and answer Krauser’s question. “Yes, sir.” He frowned as he spoke, the expression tugging at the splotches of blue and purple on his face. 

Krauser nodded once, his face set in stone. 

“Good,” he finally said, and Leon recognized veiled pride in his eyes. “Make sure you don’t end up in the hospital too, next time.” 

It was one of the few orders that Major Krauser had given in his time here that Leon agreed with. 

Of course, when the Major unclasped his hands and tossed what he’d been holding onto the bunk nearest him, Leon felt an entirely different wave of emotion sweep through him. The little radio rolled onto its back as it landed amidst the scratchy blankets, leaving a flash of recognition to cross Williams’ and Alenko’s faces as they saw it. The same radio that had been in Cortez’s office. The same one you’d somehow stolen for them, that you’d all been listening to on the ride home before everything went wrong. 

Krauser was giving it back to them. 

“And don’t make a habit of stealing from your Commanding Officers.” 

Leon might have laughed, under different circumstances. 

Instead, he found himself even more surprised as Krauser went on, this time looking towards Valeria. “Your letters,” he began, “they were from your mother?” Hellman must have told him, then. Or maybe Krauser had read the letters himself, after the fact. Leon hoped that wasn’t the case. He hoped he hadn’t read through Sherry’s letters before Leon even had the chance to. Still, he knew enough about the contents to ask.

Valeria’s mouth twitched down, and she nodded once in response, stiff and all too plainly upset. 

Krauser nodded too, and again Leon saw conflict in the Major’s face. Whatever combat his thoughts were doing, though, it was over quickly. “I’ll do what I can to get you clearance to write home. All of you.” 

That was all Krauser said . . . but just before he turned away, his eyes found Leon again. Fixed on him like crosshairs. The words spoken were all that were said, but Leon could see that Krauser had more to say. Something lurking just beneath the surface, unformed but sharp. Leon only glimpsed it for a moment, but it was there all the same. Leon almost didn’t care if the Major was angry, now though. Because even if he didn’t have a home to write to, really, he could write to Sherry. 

He might be able to tell her he was sorry for not answering her letters. To tell her he was okay, to make sure that she was alright too. 

So, whatever was behind the sharp look that he received now, Leon just met that sharpness with gratitude. He didn’t get much but a moment of that gaze losing its edge. Just a second or two, and then the moment was gone, and so was Major Krauser, moving down the rows of bunks. He hesitated as he neared Andersen, the older soldier sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking shell-shocked. 

Krauser looked down at him, his jaw tensing as he reached out a hand, patting the other man on the shoulder. 

Then, lifting his chin, he left the barracks. 

More silence followed, until at last, Williams spoke up. “Looks like Sarge was right about him being proud,” she muttered, watching as he stepped through the door. 

There was no doubt in Leon’s mind. Jack Krauser was an asshole. He had a sadistic streak. He liked to push people and he would never apologize for doing it. All of that was still true. 

But maybe you’d been right about more than just Krauser being proud of you all. 

“Do you buy it?” Alenko asked, looking over at Leon. “That he didn’t know about Reed and Hellman?” He didn’t sound overly skeptical. Just like he wanted to be sure. That he needed that one last opinion that reinforced his own. 

You had faith in the Major. Leon had criticized you for that, once. 

Now he understood it better. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Leon nodded, and he could have sworn he felt hell freeze over because he was defending Krauser of all people. “You saw how he reacted to . . .” to your injury. Leon had seen it up close and personal. The shock that mutated into rage. Rage enough to make Krauser nearly do something stupid. 

“Yeah,” Alenko conceded, knowing well enough what Leon was referring to. They’d all seen the concern the Major had for you. The regret he’d hidden poorly as he answered the questions today. He had not meant you all to come to harm. Not like that. 

Didn’t change the fact that you were still going to be hospitalized for who-knew-how-long. 

“Never seen him worried like that,” Williams nodded, shaking her head. 

“Never seen Sarge hurting like that either,” Alenko said, and tensed when he felt Valeria’s gaze turn on him. She was still feeling guilty, Leon could see it. Alenko could too, shutting his mouth when he realized he’d just reminded Valeria of what she’d inadvertently caused. 

Because Reed and Hellman had asked about the two of you specifically. That’s what Valeria had said last night, and those words had Leon on edge. That’s what made him worry even now that there was danger, even now that they were all free of those cells. 

You’d told him last night that you couldn’t risk him being there, and you hadn’t known how right you’d been. 

The two of you had been obvious with your care for one another. So, even if she’d given up information about you two being close, Leon didn’t blame Valeria for what happened. Even if it was clear that she blamed herself. 

Maybe that was why, after a moment, she reached for the radio that Krauser had left on the cot in front of her, and stood. “Come on then,” she said to the group, and her voice had more resolve in it than Leon had heard in a long while. 

“Where are you-”

“We weren’t the ones that stole the radio, right? And Sarge is gonna get a lot more use out of it than we are.” 

It was a day for looking past old angers, Leon found. He hadn’t liked Valeria much before the trip to Fort Benning. That had changed steadily while there. Now, though, as she marched off in an effort to try and alleviate your loneliness, whether to lessen her guilt or because she genuinely cared for you, Leon didn’t care. What mattered was the effort. It mattered that someone besides him cared enough to think of that before he could even voice it. 

And Leon, for the first time in the last few days, smiled. He didn’t hesitate as he stood alongside her, following her as she moved towards the door. It didn’t take long before Williams and Alenko were following along, too. 

⧫⧫⧫

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, you steeled yourself. 

You weren’t sure how you were going to tell Leon. Distancing yourself had been the first instinct. You were good at that. It would be easy. Well, not easy, but doable. You’d done it once before, after all. 

It had left you feeling like shit, and it hadn’t solved anything. 

You’d both promised to talk about what you were feeling. It was a promise you regretted now that it made things more difficult, but you wanted to honor it. You owed him that much. So, you’d torn your mind apart all morning trying to put together the right words. 

Krauser knows-

Reed and Hellman will be watching-

We can’t-

All of them seemed like bullshit, even if the concerns Krauser had raised were valid. Real. Just as the happiness that Leon Kennedy brought you was real, too. The most real thing you’d felt in months, besides that old and aching pain that you could never be rid of. Pain that was dulled and, sometimes, forgotten around the man you’d come to care for so much. The man you’d watched grow into a stronger person, inside and out. The man you would take a thousand hits for. 

You couldn’t just let that go. 

So when you heard that knock, you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do because Leon wouldn’t want to end this. Not now. And neither did you. 

The door opened and you found yourself speaking on instinct alone. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you repeated the words from the night before, not looking up from that spot on the floor you’d chosen as yours. 

And then you regretted not looking up as soon as you heard a smoky but strained voice reply. “Nice to see you too.” 

Your head snapped up and you pushed yourself up from bed, thanking the pain meds in your system for allowing the movement. Valeria didn’t wait to be invited in. Neither did any of the three people following her. Alenko and Williams gave you gentle, apologetic smiles as they followed the shorter woman in, and you felt your heart splinter because you’d thought to spend this day alone, like the last time. You thought you’d have to push Leon away the moment he stepped through the door, just for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Instead, you found yourself looking at your squad mates with wide eyes. 

And when Leon did walk through the door, you felt that splintered heart break apart when he smiled at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, and you knew this conversation was going to hurt. Both of you. 

But what conversation was it going to shape up to become? 

You didn’t know, and, as you looked at the four visitors in front of you, you decided that maybe you didn’t want to know, either. 

“Hey,” you said. “What are you all-”

“We got the day off,” Valeria answered. “Figured you could use the company.” 

“If you wanted it,” Leon added, giving you an understanding look. 

You’d been alone during your recovery from Finland. Krauser had checked in on you when he could, but he had a life and duties to attend to. The nurses that pitied you had made for shitty companions. Not that you’d wanted anyone, anyway. Solitude. That had been your companion and your shield. You’d thought just Leon had the ability to break down that barricade around you. 

You’d been wrong. 

It wasn’t quite a smile that you gave the group as you nodded, but it was close enough. “Okay.” 

That surprise and that slight smile only grew as Valeria held out her arm and presented you with none other than the little radio you’d stolen from Cortez’s office. “Think you’re missing this, too.” 

You weren’t sure what to think as you took the radio from her. Valeria seldom did anything without cause. What was her reasoning for this? For being, well, downright kind to you? You didn’t know, and, honestly? In that moment, when you had been so sure you’d been condemned to isolation in every possible way, you decided that you didn’t care, either. 

So, you settled the radio between your hands, fighting back the new kind of pain in your chest. One not born of your cracked ribs or the fear that Krauser’s words had instilled in you. 

This pain was sweeter. One you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, looking from Valeria, to Leon, and then the rest. 

Valeria just shrugged. “You’re no fun when you’re miserable. So pick a station and let’s fucking relax for once.” 

You couldn’t really argue with that, so you flipped switches and dials until you heard a synth beat and vocals you hadn’t heard in so long. A song from another life. 

“. . . there’s no turning back.”

“Even while we sleep . . .”

“Shit,” Alenko smiled wide as he took a seat a ways away from the bed you sat in. “I love this song!”

Williams just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. “Least it’s not the Spice Girls,” she mumbled over her split lip before she looked over at the rest of you who, back in the Humvee, had made her sit through one of their songs. It seemed her opinion of them hadn’t improved. “Respectfully, they’re shit.” The near-apology was delivered with a near-smile to match. 

“Well, Williams,” you found yourself saying, even if your words were muted by the ordeal you’d just been through. Still, there was something familiar there. Something you’d rediscovered at Fort Benning, and were glad to find at your fingertips now; humor. That was what ever-so-slightly colored your words as you told Williams, “ respectfully, go fuck yourself.” 

An Army brat like you, Williams just smirked right back. 

“Help me make the-”

“Most of freedom and of pleasure-”

“Nothing ever lasts forever . . .” 

It made it easier, having them there. There weren’t many words, but there didn’t need to be. You all just listened to the song as it played, finding a comfortable state of quiet between each other. Valeria moved to lean against the wall by Williams’ side. Leon . . . you could tell he wanted to move closer to you. You wanted that too. You wanted it to be just the two of you, like in the hospital in Fort Benning, but Krauser’s warning hung over your head. 

“There’s a room where the light won’t find you-”

“Holding hands as the walls come tumbling down-”

“When they do, I’ll be right behind you . . .”

Being alone with him was dangerous, more so now than it ever had been. That didn’t change simply because you wanted his presence or company. Your desire for him wouldn’t be pitied in a court martial. Not if Reed and Hellman were already looking at you like an infected limb that needed to be cut away.

You needed to heal, and Leon needed to finish this training. You both did. You’d just never thought it would be apart. 

“So glad we almost made it . . .”

So . . . you would be alone with him one more time. At least for a while. 

“So sad they had to fade it . . .”

You hoped he would understand that this was for the best, for now. 

The song eventually finished and you looked up to meet his eyes. You’d learned to speak without words to each other, now. So many stolen glances and nights spent side by side, in training or with him pressed up against the wall of the mess hall, you had a language all your own. Insight into each other’s thoughts. And as you looked into those ocean blues, you saw your own thoughts reflected back at you. 

There was a talk to be had, and both of you knew it. 

⧫⧫⧫

The day went on and eventually the others left. Alenko was first, saying he was going to go in search of food. Had to be desperate, to want what the mess hall served, but Leon didn’t begrudge him. The hunger of those three days had left them all empty just as much as the rest of the experience had. 

Williams went next, saying she needed to move, to make up for those days spent in captivity. Valeria didn’t take much convincing when asked to join her.

Leon almost told them to be careful. To not let the agents see them. 

To not end up in the predicament that the two of you were in. 

A situation that became clear and present, once the two of you were left alone, the radio playing on. 

“How are you feeling?” He knew what the answer would be, but he asked anyway.

“They gave me pain meds,” you shrugged as best you could, “so not that bad right now.” 

At least there was that. Even if you shouldn’t have had to be in the infirmary in the first place. “Have they told you how long you’ll be on bed rest?” Leon asked, because he didn’t want to have the other conversation. Not yet. 

The mirth that had been present on your face, however muted, faded. “It was a six week recovery last time. For the bones.” 

“Six?” The number sounded so much worse than what Leon had imagined. He remembered his own long recovery from the gunshot wound he’d suffered in Raccoon City. It had seemed long then, but he hadn’t been kept from anything. It hadn’t stopped him from living his life. Not that he’d done much living after that night anyway. Still, he couldn’t imagine what this was like to you, because it would be six weeks without physical training. Six weeks without sparring, without being able to clear your head in the way Leon knew you would need. Six weeks of what would be hell to you. 

And if you couldn’t train for combat like the rest of them . . . would you be able to graduate with the rest? With him? 

“You need to keep practicing,” you told him, and by the stiffness of your words, Leon could tell that you were thinking of exactly what he was thinking of. It sounded like you were telling him to go on without you. “Train with the others, but ask Krauser to spar too. He’s the best. He’ll kick your ass, but he’ll make you better.”

“You say that like you’re not gonna-”

“I’m not gonna be able to spar with you, Leon. Not for a while. I’m not gonna be there. You can’t let yourself fall behind with me.” 

The words, while well intentioned, were painful to hear aloud. True, but painful because after months of training with you, he couldn’t imagine not being by your side. He didn’t want to have to train for hell on earth and not know that you would be there to face it with him. 

But you were right. 

As unfair as it was, as completely and utterly shitty, you were right. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “But then when you’re better, we’ll catch you back up.” Because he knew you would need it. He knew you’d want it, too. That after so long letting your body heal, you would want nothing more than to throw yourself back into the swing of things. 

The trouble was-

“Leon . . .” you shook your head, and he knew that the conversation he’d dreaded was here. “Krauser knows.” 

Just like that, the color drained from his face. You’d never been one to beat around the bush, but those words were like being doused in ice water.

“About . . .”

“Us.” 

He felt a pit open up in his stomach that threatened to turn him inside-out, and all he could do was sit on the bed beside you. The jaws were closing in. Had that been the cause of that look from Krauser earlier? Had the Major been looking at him with such disdain because of that?

“. . . Fuck.” It was really all he could say. Why even warn you about Reed and Hellman if the game was already over . . .

“He’s not going to report it.” 

. . . or maybe not as over as Leon had thought. 

“What?” he blinked, turning to look at you without bothering to hide his confusion. Major Krauser hadn’t exactly been by the books, as far as Leon knew, but he’d been so adamant about respecting the order of things. This whole mess had happened because he’d not wanted to step outside the bounds of red tape. Why the hell hadn’t he reported fraternization? 

“Said he doesn’t care. But he also said that Reed and Hellman will.” 

Leon nodded, trying to reconcile all the mismatched thoughts and solutions buzzing around his mind. 

“So he’s saying he won’t stop us but if we get found out we’re fucked.” 

You just nodded, the air growing heavier and heavier with each moment. Because Leon knew where this was going, just as much as you did. 

Leon pursed his lips, looking down. “They asked about us during the interrogations,” he finally said. “Reed and Hellman. Valeria told me they were asking.” 

It was your turn to frown, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t rat Valeria out, but you deserved to know that the agents were onto you, even if Krauser wouldn’t be the one to confirm it.

Why wouldn’t he confirm it?

“Then they’ll be watching.” 

Leon nodded once, feeling emptiness beginning to set in. “So what do you want to do?” he asked, dreading the answer because he’d heard the distance in your voice last night, and he could hear it even then. He’d heard it once before, after you’d kissed him that first night and tried to convince yourself and him that it was a mistake. 

The difference was that, then, he’d seen that emptiness in your eyes, too. He’d seen you retreating into yourself. 

He knew you well enough now to know that the look that he saw in your eyes didn’t match the attempt at distance in your voice. Because, as you turned your gaze up towards him, Leon could see only conflict. Only you, a casualty of the crossfire between what your mind had to be telling you and what your heart wanted. When you answered, that conflict was all the more apparent. “You know what I want. But we have to be smart about this. Because if Krauser knows - and has for months now - then Reed and Hellman will pick up on it too, and they’re already gunning to cut me for this shit,” you gestured down to your ribs, and Leon swore he heard your voice waver.  

“They wanted me out, too,” Leon admitted, and he watched some fear seep into your expression. “Krauser convinced them to let me stay.” 

And again, Leon found himself wondering why?

“They wanted . . . why?” you asked. Why they’d wanted Leon gone - that’s what you were asking about. 

“Because I broke,” he admitted, his voice hushed. Not ashamed, but overwhelmed by other emotions. “When they were hurting you, I had to get them to stop. So I was going to tell them what they wanted to know. Right before Krauser got there.” 

You looked at him then, silent, your eyes piercing his own. Searching and seeing straight through him, just as you always had. 

You had suffered on account of him. It was the last thing he ever wanted for you, but you’d endured it. You’d taken pain for him, in fights and behind bars, and you’d been taking pain from him for far longer. With your company, with your touch. You’d helped each other learn to walk again. It was what had made him fall in love with you, even if it had been something that happened to him at the end of your knife. 

He loved you. So, he made a decision. 

“Look,” he went on, turning to face you more, feeling something in him building. A resolve or a desperate hope, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll focus on training. I’ll work with Krauser, I’ll . . . I’ll only visit you with the others, if you think it’ll be less suspicious. But I’m not leaving you here by yourself. I’m not letting go of this. I can’t do that. Not if you don’t want to let go, either.” 

He watched you, feeling emotion overtaking him. Bearing down on him, nearly making him shake because it had all been too much. Raccoon City. STRATCOM. All the hurts he’d suffered - that you’d suffered - and the best thing to come from it all had been this. You. 

So, his throat constricting, he hoped that you felt the same way. 

For a moment, he worried, because you were staring at him like he was something you could never have. He saw the regret in your eyes, the tension in your body, like you were bracing for some great pain. It all faded, though, and the corners of your mouth turned up just a bit. The dark of night graying as the sun tried to appear once more. 

It was all the warning he had before your lips were on his, and Leon felt the resolve he’d built up for months, the guard he’d put around himself in that prison, crumble. Emotion and relief flooded him, and his hand shook a bit as he lifted it to your face. It was different from the kisses the two of you had stolen in the shadows. Different than the sweet one he’d given you in the hospital at Fort Benning. This was all longing. Wordless in its declaration. He held you gently, no longer needing to memorize the feel of you but trying to hold on to every detail anyway. 

Because he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to kiss you. Or hold you. Or be with you the way he wanted. 

But he wasn’t letting go. 

“I don’t want to let go, either,” you told him, your lips against his. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to-”

“Neither do I,” Leon admitted, as the words tore at him. “But . . . we’ll find a way.” 

He had to believe that. 

He had to believe that this wedge being driven between the two of you wouldn’t change what he felt. And to that end, he would watch. He would find moments of safety for the two of you, he would learn to play the spy game if it meant he could steal a few heartbeats with you. He’d wait for those moments, and he’d wait for you. 

However long it took. 

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