#but they made it into a fight to save all of them

[lyricthecat-12]

I urgently needed to talk about the last scene between Sonic and Shadow in the third movie, because I think what they did is simply beautiful. 🥹💙❤️🖤

Before Sonic 3 came out, there was debate over who would be the one to change Shadow's mind since at that point, there was no solid indication that Amy or Rouge would appear. I was a fan of the idea that maybe they'd have Jojo be the one to remind Shadow of Maria's wish, since she was an established character from the start and fits the profile like a cheerful, caring, and optimistic girl.

However, seeing that in the end they made it so that Sonic was the one who talked to Shadow and convinced him to fight to save the world, surprised me and at the same time fascinated me infinitely more. Because they managed to make the change organic by connecting it with narrative elements that were also raised and developed from the beginning; Sonic's grief over losing Longclaw and his paternal relationship with Tom, making this moment something special and significant for both of them:

It is a moment of connection and understanding between two people who have lost the person who was once the most important in their lives, who loved them when no one else did and gave them a home,

That for a long time they had to deal alone with the pain and guilt of having been the trigger for their deaths but, as they emphasize in the film, While Sonic was able to find a family that would love him and help him get better and cope with that pain, Shadow was alone and the only person he interacted with after awakening, only manipulated him in order to fulfill his revenge.

Until this moment, where Shadow finally meets someone who not only knows his pain perfectly but has also learned to move forward and not let it corrupt him even in the most difficult moments, and who in turn motivates him to do the same.

All of this contributes fantastically to their connection, as it is no longer just that their personalities and ways of acting are opposite, but also the way in which their stories correlate and at the same time distinguish each other, creating a new and emotional parallelism between them: They are two sides of the same coin, two extremes that ultimately come together to bring out the best in each other.

Which is beautifully reflected throughout the final battle. Sonic and Shadow display effortless synergy, supporting each other, backing each other up, and even casually joking around.

A good reminder of the great chemistry and dynamism they used to have years ago. Unlike now that they make it seem like Shadow barely tolerates Sonic, before they both had a friendly rivalry where they respected each other, valued each other and helped each other without problem. And I'm really glad the movie brought back some of that dynamic and reflected it in such a natural and fun way, and I hope that continues for future SCU projects instead of sticking to the current direction.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm a fan of Sonadow, but because I genuinely believe that this is the most natural direction for their relationship after all this time.

[cthulhus-curse]

Eternal Flames

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 15,155

Warnings: Omegaverse, Alphas!WandaNat, Omega!Reader, WandaNat have penises, Nursing, Smut Fluff, Hurt/Comfort | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After having escaped the sharp claws of HYDRA, you end up as the newest member of the Avengers and the object of Wanda and Natasha's affection.

Freedom is earned, not deserved.

Those words forever echoed in your mind, haunting you through your horrifying dreams and waking life alike. They came from the same husky voice, one which always made you shudder in a torturous remembrance. Rumlow, you felt bile rising from your throat at the sole humoring of the name, was anything but compassionate. Day after day he spit the same phrase your way since your earliest memories. HYDRA was your home, he had said, and for the longest years you believed it. 

Being born into the organization, taken from your own home as a child, forced you into being a pawn in their game of chess. As the bishop, Rumlow was meant to oversee your training alongside other stolen members forced to partake in HYDRA’s black and white board, with his men as rooks standing by in case any deserters had the bright idea of leaving. Because if it happened, and it did from time to time, there wouldn’t be any hesitation to put a bullet between their eyes. For HYDRA, undying loyalty was everything, even if they needed to drill it onto you with less-than-savory acts. 

A killer is what they made you – a coldhearted yet accomplished weapon of mass destruction, one that followed the Winter Soldier’s footsteps with red dripping from your ledger with each passing day. Countless lives were taken at your hands, and although you were forced to believe that HYDRA was your home, that you needed to fight for them, there always came a hint of doubt deep in your subconscious. Regardless of the brainwashing, that light was never put out no matter how much they tried. And for that, you were punished severely. 

Even for the sole fact that you were an omega, you were treated as the lowest of the low. Many of your fellow HYDRA soldiers, those thrown into involuntary service, had the same nature. There were a handful of alphas scattered around, but mostly it was the omegas, demanded to be submissive, which took the harshest beatings. Medication was shoved down your throat to prevent any heats and suppress any scents. To them you were nothing; no one. And if they wanted to control every breath you took, they’d do as such. 

With the fall of HYDRA at the hands of The Avengers, one Black Widow and Captain America to be exact, came your freedom. There were still active soldiers operating outside bounds that were set, hiding in the shadows refusing to be found, but not you. No, you were saved from that life instead. Muscular arms wrapped around your frame as you slept in the beat-down cot of HYDRA headquarters, pulling you away as the woman promised you’d be alright from now on. You didn’t know her, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on her told you all you needed to know. Sighing, you nodded her way. Because in the 20 years you’d spent under her rule, you could finally take a breath of relief. 

Your defection from HYDRA came by, and you couldn’t help but happily turn around to betray them for the sake of your freedom. Maria took you under her wing through that time, morphing you into an exemplary S.H.I.E.L.D. agent much like herself. She saw greatness in you, never failing to repeat those same words whenever possible as a reminder of all the things you could accomplish. You were more than a killer, the woman told you, and you realized then that if it wasn’t for her, you’d probably not have a life past those 20 years. 

The shame that came with your past haunted you in your present. Each night you went to bed bawling your eyes out without fail, sobbing for all the innocents you’d harmed under the hand of HYDRA. The cries were muffled enough to not boom across the headquarters as to not alert your fellow agents, and yet a certain brunette always passed by, sighing as she was well-aware of the torture you put yourself through on a daily basis. 

“You don’t have to beat yourself up for it,” Maria reminded you one morning as she handed you a cup of coffee right after a joint run. “That wasn’t you. They made you do it, you didn’t have a choice.”

“I could’ve done something,” you shrugged. Although the coffee burned you as it went down your throat, you deserved it – that and even more. “I was there and I didn’t-”

“You were just a kid when it all started,” she had to interject. “No one blames you, alright? And…sure they made you do horrible things, I know that, but that doesn’t mean you take the blame for it all. They made you, not the other way around.”

The two of you sat in silence in the break room, your eyes staring into the nothingness while Maria’s was set on you. She took her unofficial job as your protector very seriously, seeing parts of herself in you – a lost alpha who, luckily, was able to find solace in the arms of her omega wife Pepper. All the agent wanted was for you to seek out the same happiness she earned. Perhaps then she could help save you the way she had been.

“I might have something for you if you’d like. It’s a bit of a step up from running covert missions under Fury and I,” Maria shrugged, smiling as she had a good feeling about it. “They’re called the Avengers. Fury brought them together, but they operate by themselves without us overseeing them. You wouldn’t have to report back to anyone but yourselves. Does that sound like something you’d consider?”

“The Avengers,” you scoffed at that. “Is that like a band or something?”

“Well, they’re not The Beatles, but I suppose they’re a bit of a band,” she explained. “They’re making way more progress than we ever could in taking down HYDRA. I’m sure you’d be a very valuable asset to the team if you decide so. Between you, the god from space, and the big guy, you’d be unstoppable.”

More silence came about, but this time it was pensive. You truly took your time in humoring the offer. For months since you joined the organization, you’d been able to help in hunting down the remainder of HYDRA operatives, but you knew that there were more hiding in plain sight who needed to be dealt with. If there was an opportunity to do so, you’d be dumb not to take it in a heartbeat. 

Maria would never push you into uncomfortable positions, let alone throw you into the wolves as she sat back and watched. But alas, she knew of the positive effects being surrounded by such a team could cause. There came the question about your reaction to having numerous alphas around you though. Between the leader of the team, Steve with his alpha mate, and even the leader of the pack itself Natasha and her second-in-command Wanda, Maria was unsure you’d take a liking to them instantly. At least with the two women, she had a good feeling you’d warm up to them in a few weeks. 

“Try it out for a bit, yeah?” Maria gently pushed. “Then you can let me know how you feel about it. If you don’t like it, I can always ask Fury about getting you your own taskforce. I know you’re young, but I really think you can-”

“Omegas don’t lead,” you interjected, suddenly speaking in the same monotone voice Rumlow once carried. “That’s…that’s what they used to tell me.”

With sympathy stricken over her features, Maria shook her head. She reached out enough for her hand to lay atop your own, her thumb brushing over yours as a means to show you her understanding of the matter. Since your sudden departure from HYDRA after it crumbled, it was the first time you let someone, let alone an alpha, touch you without pulling back in fear.

“You can and you eventually will,” she sincerely told you. “I have so much faith in you, Y/N. Have some in yourself too, yeah?”

Those were the same words you carried around your chest on your first day with the Avengers. It was different from HYDRA, better at that. Maria had surprised you earlier that morning with a brazing cup of coffee and a box with a cute sticky note on it. Hope it’s the right size , it read, and when you pulled out the wrapping paper, your eyes widened at the sight of a suit – mostly black with the Avengers insignia and S.H.I.E.L.D. one on the side – one solely for yourself, hiding underneath. 

Walking through the steps of the Avengers compound, you sighed. It was much larger than the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, making it easy for you to get lost in the Upstate New York campus. Rushing through, you realized you’d be late then for the early debriefing session Hill told you about, at least until you ran, quite literally, into the one help you’d found all morning. 

“Shit,” you yelped as you fell into the ground. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” came a lighthearted giggle. “You should really watch where you’re going, sweetheart. I’m not too fond of getting concussions from random girls. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Not only did the words drawled up gently made your features heat up, but as you pulled away and were able to catch sight of who you stumbled on, your mouth went agape. There were no words to describe the beauty that had befallen before you, and yet you tried. A vibrant redness tied back into messy French braids cascaded down strong shoulders barely covered by a sleeveless gray shirt. It left you breathless, scarred even, because in the 20 years you’d spent on Earth, even if locked away in your demonic cage, you had never felt your heart racing in such a manner, fingers tingling and craving to reach out to trace her chiseled jaw until you reached her rosy lips. 

“I- uhm…” you tried to speak, but only slurred incoherent mumbles you were unable to control came out.

“Pretty and cute,” the mystery woman hummed. “Great combination. What’s your name, милая?”

From your time at HYDRA, you understood the term very well. There weren’t many things that made you smile, but being called ‘honey’ by a rather attractive stranger did the trick. Her Russian accent was thick when she spoke in what you assumed was her native language, her tongue drawing out each syllable and making it impossible for you to tear your eyes away. 

“I’m…” you paused, needing time to take in her words and figure out a proper manner in which you could respond. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Natasha,” she said. “But most people know me as Black Widow.”

And from that time on, you swore to yourself there’d never be a more glorious sight than the Black Widow herself. You were wrong of course, because only minutes later you rushed into the meeting room, hot on Natasha’s guiding heels, only to find a rather sheepish brunette eyeing you two sweetly. With the two of them around, you were unsure on how you’d focus on your goal, let alone carry on your fear of alphas when you craved two so carnally. 

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Within your first six months of being an Avenger, you had already made a name for yourself. ‘The rookie’ or ‘rooks’ is what the men referred to you as, especially Clint who took on the mantle of a loving messiah ready to shoot an arrow through just about everyone to make sure you’re safe. He was nice enough, they all were, but your eyes were always focused on a pair of alphas, mated to one another at that, who simply never left your mind. 

Natasha and Wanda, you had found, shook your world upside down. All of the pain and suffering you had endured suddenly went away as they came into your thoughts. Soothing all your hurt, the two women just…made everything make sense for once. And for that you couldn’t be more than grateful whenever you spent even milliseconds around them. 

Even menial aspects of Avengers life such as training or even breakfast made your heart skip a beat at the sole thought. Each morning you woke up with a newfound sense of giddiness. At first you were unable to pinpoint the reason behind it. And yet each time your eyes feasted upon peculiar heads of red or brown, you shuddered with excitement. 

But you couldn’t do anything about it, not ever. The idea of reaching out to speak to either of them, or even stare in their general directions with the possibility of being caught put a strain on your actions. They didn’t like you, you told yourself each night, pushing away the possibility of ever finding even so much as a friendship in both Wanda and Natasha. They were mated to one another after all – two confidently righteous alphas that didn’t have time for a lowly omega such as yourself. 

Sighing, you couldn’t shake the images of them that came about as you awoke in what felt like a lifetime since you joined the group. They’d hate you even if they gave you an opportunity, the alphas that is. If they saw you like that, raggedly sitting up against your bed, arms wrapped around your legs as your knees were hugged to your chest covering all the deep scars on your body, they’d grimace with disgust. You were a freak, Rumlow used to tell you, a mistake of humanity that somehow got more than a handful of years to live. With all the memories that each cut on your skin carried, some given to you by others while the rest were self-made, they’d surely turn away. You were unwanted, the trash people threw away and never looked back to. 

Every single area of your body was covered before you went out into the world. The suit Maria had given you hugged every bit of skin, coating it in a protective blanket that allowed you to exist without the need to worry about prying eyes. Regardless of that, you were a shadow in the compound. Your teammates barely looked at you, let alone speak your way unless deeply crucial. Perhaps at times they didn’t want you there, and in your mind, they were truly validated as you didn’t even want yourself to be present. With all the struggles you faced, unable to properly fit in with both the language barrier and difference in dynamics with a room full of alphas, it was impossible to ever become a proper piece to their puzzle. 

“So, what did you do before coming here?”

Standing in what you believed to be an empty kitchen, you jumped. Clint had taken to leaving leftovers for you to eat once all the teammates were done with breakfast knowing of your fear of being around them. While alone you took to feeding yourself, something you had yet to become fully accustomed to. Rumlow’s men only ever fed you scraps, absolute trash they found for their own amusement in watching a weak omega ravage nothingness for the sake of survival. Pancakes and fresh fruits in your stomach felt odd, different, and new, yet delicious. 

Turning, you noticed a beaming brunette stepping towards you, her hands clasped together. Fingers fiddled nervously with rings around them, one being shiny with a rather big diamond you could tell was her wedding band. Wanda adored her jewelry much like she adored Natasha, the one who spoiled her with it all. 

“To the kitchen?” You frowned, not understanding her question. “I was…sleeping, Mrs. Maximoff-Romanoff.”

“Wanda,” the woman giggled at the formal title. “You can call me by my name, dear. I won’t bite,” she sultrily teased. “Well, unless I’m asked to do so…”

As her words died out, the innuendo she threw your way completely went over your head. The witch gazed at you as you dropped your plate on the floor, kneeling beside it ready to eat. It made her gasp, and as she did, her hands flew with a glowing red to grab the plate. She moved it from the dirty floor to the pristine kitchen island – one Steve prided himself of cleaning thoroughly after one of his big team meals – before rushing to you.

“What are you doing?” Wanda was worried, but you were unable to tell even through her exasperated voice. She reached out to you, hoping to comfort you only to be met by you flinching even at the slightest of touches on your shoulder. A whine came out, causing the brunette’s eyebrows to knit together with concern as you rose to your feet. “Y/N?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I forgot I don’t have to…never mind.”

“You don’t have to do what, honey? Are you- are you used to eating on the floor?” She hesitated with her question. As you took your place on a stool, Wanda made sure to sit on the one right across to ensure you would no longer be uncomfortable. “Sweetheart, what happened before you came here? To the Avengers, I mean.”

You knew she could read minds, Tony had let it slip weeks before during a debriefing session. So as hard as it was, you attempted to shift your thoughts far away from HYDRA as possible. Regardless of whether she listened in to your subconscious or not, you weren’t about to leave it to chance. 

“S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you flatly responded. Looking down at your pancakes, sugary syrup having been drizzled across it, you hummed with a grumbling stomach, but waited to dig in until after you spoke. “I worked right under Hill and Fury. My job was to seek out the remaining HYDRA operatives and bring them to justice. And, well, Maria told me this group was doing much better with that, so I thought you could use a hand.”

“Yes, we’re not big fans of HYDRA around here,” Wanda sadly stated. “They…they gave me my powers, but I feel like they took everything from me. No one understands but Nat.”

“Because of the Red Room,” you asked, remembering Maria’s words about Natasha’s past. “They didn’t have much to do with one another, other than Dreykov wanting HYDRA intel for his widows. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Wanda wanted to deepen the conversation, to crawl right into your mind as she pulled out bits and pieces of information she craved. The mysterious aura that surrounded you made her crave the idea of knowing you even more. Each day the woman longed to sit by and listen to you ramble about your life, even the most menial aspects or whatever you wished to share. Because although she was mated to her beloved Natasha, Wanda couldn’t help but yearn to have you as well. 

“Where did you grow up?” Wanda tried to dig in, but you wouldn’t let her. “I grew up in Sokovia with my twin brother, Pietro, and my parents.”

“I…” you hesitated, not only as it was the first conversation you’ve held with anyone that wasn’t Maria, but because it was also Wanda of all people. “I don’t want to talk about it, my apologies.”

A sympathetic smile was thrown your way, one you weren’t quite used to. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with. Can I…ask you other things? If you feel alright with them, I mean.”

You remained quiet, but as you took a bite of your pancakes, you barely nodded. There was still much you were unaware of when it came to the world beyond the four walls of HYDRA, especially that in relation to societal hierarchy with you being an omega. But when it came to Wanda or Natasha, you didn’t feel that pressure to submit to them, to beg for pity as they greedily took whatever they wanted much like Rumlow had. No, they made you feel…peace for once in your life. And as scary of a feeling as it was, you were more than joyous to experience it with them, even if not directly. 

“Do you have a mate, darling?” She found you grimaced uncomfortably at the question, instantly regretting asking it before you shook your head. “You’re the first omega I’ve met without one. Aren’t you too pretty to be alone? I’m sure there must be hundreds of alphas, betas, and even omegas falling to their knees for you.”

“Not really, but it’s fine. My only goal and purpose is to rid the world of HYDRA’s horrors. I don’t have time to humor those things.”

“It must get lonely sometimes,” Wanda whispered, and you didn’t realize then just how badly she wanted to wrap you up in her arms and brush that sad look off your face. “You deserve someone, Y/N. We all do.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, suddenly not interested in your breakfast. “Maybe someday.”

And as avaricious as it felt, part of Wanda hoped it could be her and Natasha to have you. 

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“You should’ve seen her, Nat. She was like a hurt puppy sitting there all alone,” her voice was hoarse, tired of the numerous times she’d repeated the same story with no avail. Because at the end of the day, Wanda wouldn’t be sated until she alleviated the pain you exuded one way or another. “I…I needed to help her. Poor thing is all alone. She doesn’t have anyone! Not a single soul.”

Sighing, the redhead finished throwing on a shirt above her head. She waltzed towards the bed in the late hours of the night already hoping for a good night’s sleep. “I know, Wands. I saw her and Maria getting a bit close so I had hoped she was maybe befriending her, but Y/N spends all her time locked up in her room even when Ria and Pepper come around. I’ve even tried inviting her to movie night, but it’s like talking to a wall sometimes. She’s there physically, but almost checked out.”

“She doesn’t have a mate,” Wanda worryingly said as she watched her partner slump herself down beside her. “And her smell, Nat, it’s too much. I can barely contain myself whenever I’m around her.” Shifting uncomfortably, Wanda looked down at herself. Even through the sheets she could feel a tenderness around her breasts and crotch. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know that too,” Natasha hummed. “But we can’t push her. If she doesn’t want to then…we can’t push her. It just makes me sad knowing she’s all alone and doesn’t want anyone around her. Almost as if Y/N doesn’t think she’s worthy.”

Turning to her side, Natasha frowned. She watched her fellow alpha begin to pull at her shirt, huffing as it stuck to her chest where wet nipples poked through. Licking her lips, the Black Widow couldn’t help but feel an immense sense of hunger. Because whenever her mate, much like certain alphas, produced milk, Natasha’s senses spiked. 

“D’you need help?” Natasha motioned towards Wanda’s seemingly slick chest, eyeing it with longing before staring back into her similarly viridescent eyes. “We can forget about everything for a bit. You can pretend I’m here if you’d like.”

“You’d do that?” Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Well, I know you’d do it for me,” Natasha mused. “And even if we don’t have her, we still have each other.”

Nimble fingers, nails coated in chipped black nail polish, tugged at the dark fabric straining against Wanda. They pulled it off before throwing it on the floor, not caring where it landed as their owner focused on the beauty before her. She squeezed the breasts at first, whining at how tender and sensitive they were at the palm of her hands. Kneading them, both alphas groaned together. Neither cared much about pleasure, but instead basked in the relief and closeness of it all. 

“They’re full,” the redhead pointed out. She used her thumbs and index finger to oh-so gently squeeze the rosy nipples that practically cried for any sort of attention. And once they were stimulated, Natasha grinned at the sight of drops of milk beginning to come out. “Oh baby. I’ll take such good care of you, always. Gonna make you feel so, so good.”

Lips wrapped themselves around the buds. They were careful enough to not harm Wanda, ensuring that her whitened teeth didn’t graze them even slightly knowing her mate would only scream out of pleasure. Massaging her breasts, Natasha ensured that she calmly brought a smile to the face beneath hers, running her tongue around the nipples to scoop up drops of milk before alternating between them.

She nuzzled her face upon Wanda’s chest until her forehead grazed the flushed, heated skin. As Natasha suckled the buds, she drank up every single spurt of milk that was let out. It was delicious, she couldn’t help but point out while lustfully devouring the brunette. And at the feeling of a tent poking at her inner thigh, a certain Widow couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’ll make it all better,” Natasha promised as she lapped at the creamy milk. “I always do, Дорогая.”

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Running missions with both Natasha and Wanda became comforting as time passed. Even if you were in the depths of your covers, or even fighting whatever enemy forces came about, the ends of your mouth would never fail to rise slightly. Not only did you get to spend all your time around the mated women, slowly building trust with alphas in general, but simultaneously you went around taking down whatever HYDRA bases were in the way, helping you all grow closer together.

You couldn’t help the jolt in your heart whenever they so much as stared your way, and while waltzing through an empty HYDRA camp, your boots clashing with the snow on the ground, your eyes never left Wanda or vice versa. The two of them acted as something of bodyguards for you, because even if your training from HYDRA gave you a similar fighting stance as Natasha, they’d forever see you as a small creature they wished to nurture and protect. Keeping their eyes on you has become nature and you were surprisingly not complaining. 

While you and Wanda secured the perimeter, it was up to Natasha to remain back and gather any intel she could from the leftover devices that remained after the HYDRA agents scurried off. She hummed to herself out of boredom knowing that much like the other encounters, their systems would’ve been wiped clean, but there was a part of her that could never be too sure. So she booted up laptop after laptop, clicking away to each file to find anything of importance. 

There was a peculiar set of documents that caught her eye. Natasha frowned at it, clicking on the file named ‘Project Omega’ out of curiosity. The contents made bile build up at her throat. There were countless images and videos, some written forms here and there, that archived the mistreatment they gave omegas, and certain alphas, who were under HYDRA’s claws. They were taken from a young age, the reports read, and morphed into soldiers for the organization to use much like the Red Room. Only from what Natasha could see, the treatment to their involuntary soldiers was somehow more demonic than anything she’d seen. 

Flipping through the pictures, the woman nearly pulled away. She was unable to sit through it, which made her wonder just how much worse it must’ve been to experience it firsthand. Surely enough most HYDRA bases had been taken down so the likelihood of such programs still existing was slim, but alas, Natasha kept looking to ensure that were to be true. 

And when she saw a familiar face all bludgeoned in an image, her whole world stopped. 

“Y/N,” Natasha mumbled, frowning as she inspected the bloody picture until she got sick. She had wanted to bring Rumlow to justice since he slipped away in Washington D.C., but now all she saw was a murderous red being targeted at him. “That’s…no…”

She had no word when she returned to you and Wanda, her lips formed into a thin line that made the two of you suddenly become alert. Her mouth opened for a second, being left agape as she tried finding the right words, but instantly closed once more as she eyed you sadly. Since the first day you had come into the compound, you’d never seen Natasha in such a state; if anything, it was worrying. 

The woman took a seat beside you in a beat-up log with flurries of snow sprinkled on it. Normally she was joyous towards the end of her missions, but it was impossible to find even an ounce of positivity in the pain she felt surging towards you. Sighing, Natasha scooted closer and thought her words through before spilling them. 

“I saw the files, the Project Omega ones,” she strained her voice with sympathy as she turned to you. “And I…I saw you.”

“Oh,” you didn’t know what to say because of all the ways you humored such a conversation to go, the gears in your brain couldn’t help but malfunction and how it ended up coming about. “That’s…okay.”

“What’s Project Omega?” Wanda interjected. “Nat?”

“HYDRA took you, didn’t they?” Natasha was careful, but she simply needed to get to the bottom of it. “Before SHIELD, they had you.”

It wasn’t a question, but instead a statement that had you nodding as you were cornered. “Hill saved me a few months back. She-” as the memories came crashing down, so did you with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Natasha jumped to action alongside her mate, both of whom instantly wrapped their arms around you protectively. Normally you’d pull back at the sole humoring of physical touch, but with them it felt right. If anything you relaxed against their hold as your tears fell.

“Shh it’s okay,” Wanda whispered reassuringly. 

Only for Natasha to pick up her words. “We got you, Y/N. You’re safe now, I promise. They’ll never get you again.”

And for the first time in your life, you could finally have trust in not only one, but two people who quickly had your undying adoration in a matter of moments.

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Since the day she found the truth behind your past, Natasha was unable to sleep normally. She tossed and turned each night, being left wide-awake while her mate warmly cuddled to her side. Her legs hastily bounced on the mattress, shaking the sheets with her eyes boring into the bare ceiling.

Not a second went by where the woman wasn’t constantly buffeted by the images, videos, and retellings of Project Omega which HYDRA carried out. She was haunted by them, thoughts plagued by the horrors she forced herself to sit through for the sole sake of garnering information from the fallen organization. Natasha could be a revered agent, and Avenger at that, but she would still break at the sight of your suffering. 

Because at the end of the day, she knew you belonged with her and Wanda. Her viridescent eyes had turned pale at the sight of a small marking on your arm. It was a sun, moon, and a star hugging one another tightly in place, and only the star was colored in while the rest were left blank. Natasha found chilling similarities in it as she looked down at her own arm within the confines of the dimly-lit room. She and Wanda too had markings mirroring your own, only Natasha’s had the sun colored in while the brunette’s moon was dark. There was no surprise with it either, because from the moment she saw you, the redhead knew there was a connection between the three of you that could never be broken. Only now she had its proof. 

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Wanda’s groggy voice snapped Natasha out of her haze, and yet she didn’t budge. Instead the woman remained silent, still looking up unfocused as her mind was wrapped around you who lay asleep only doors away. She could go to you at any minute, but for the first time since she left the Red Room and Dreykov behind, she felt a surge of fear crashing through her body. 

“What’s wrong?” Wanda pushed when the silence became unbearable. She could barely hold her eyes open, but alas, she nuzzled her face against the crook of Natasha’s shoulder to bring her comfort. “Talk to me, любимая.”

Looking to her left at the term of endearment, Natasha hummed. “I’m fine.” But that was a boldfaced lie that even she didn’t believe. “Go back to sleep, Wands.”

“No,” she slurred. “Tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same for days. Not since you told me about-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Natasha cut her off. “Because…perhaps it’s for the best this way. She’s suffering. If I tell her about this, if I mention any of this to anyone but you, she’ll only feel more overwhelmed. We can’t do that to her.”

“I know.” She ran a hand across Natasha’s chest right underneath her loose shirt, carefully drawing comforting circles on her chest until it heaved calmly. “But I also know that she doesn’t hate us. Compared to everyone else here, Y/N has chosen us. She wants us.”

“She belongs with us,” Natasha mumbled. 

“What do you mean, Nat?”

“Our marking,” Natasha pushed her arm against Wanda’s holding them together as their soulmate markings were flashed. “She has the third, Wanda. I saw it when I was looking through the files. I didn’t notice at first, at least not until I rechecked them with Maria, but it’s the same one. She doesn’t even know!”

Wanda, unable to process such heavy information in a matter of seconds, only left her mouth agape. “Should we tell her?” 

Natasha had considered it, but there never seemed to come a proper time to relay the information. You struggled still to fit in with the rest of the group, finding difficulty in feeling safe around alphas at that. The last thing she wished to do was cause more pain. Because if she were to say something, maybe you’d never look at her the same.

But with each passing day, the Black Widow and her mate found it much harder to contain their need for you. It went to levels beyond sexual. They craved your being, your soul tied with theirs as you all swayed back and forth holding the other for dear life. Knowing you were to be together but being unable to immediately have it made Natasha huff with frustration. And while she could theoretically rush to your room, wake you up, and show you her own soulmate brand, you didn't have to carry more baggage. Only when she felt you were ready would she explain the truth. 

“No,” Natasha sadly responded. “I don’t think so.”

“But she has the right to know. Are we just going to pretend this never happened?” Wanda found herself to be annoyed by her partner’s antics. “Because it did happen. And every single day we’ll have to deal with the fact that that’s our soulmate, but we don’t have her. How do you think the poor thing feels about not having found hers yet?”

Oh Natasha thought about it beforehand, she really did. There were times where she needed to hold herself back as she walked by your room and heard you sobbing. Most nights it was due to nightmares revolving around your past, but a few moments occurred where she heard you begging for a soulmate, for someone to want you the same way you wanted them. If only you were aware of how much a pair of alphas longed for you. 

“Yeah,” she relaxed for once against the mattress. “Maybe you’re right. I just don’t know when to tell her. Can we just…wait? Until she seems comfortable at least?”

“Of course. I don’t want either of my best girls feeling uneasy, especially when it comes to something so beautiful as this.” Rarely did Wanda hold the position as the little spoon, but that night, much like a few previous others that Natasha was restless in bed, she took her place behind her mate and hugged her tight. Planting a kiss on the other alpha’s shoulder, she beamed. “Don’t you dare worry that pretty head of yours, baby. We’ll be together in no time, you’ll see.” Another lingering kiss. “We’ll never give up on her.”

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There was never much you could push yourself to do apart from constant training, filling out reports, and daydreaming about Wanda and Natasha during missions. Keeping to yourself and ignoring any group outings became second nature. Your lips were thin each time you looked out your window, rarely ever left without curtains protecting you from the outside world. Because although the fear of being surrounded by numerous people, strangers or not, was instilled in you, you couldn’t help but crave the joy of simply…befriending others – of building normal relationships to bring a sense of normalcy to your life. 

Wanda and Natasha showed attempts to get you out of your shell, but they weren’t the type of people to pull or tug at your sleeve until you spent time with them. They were sweet, and you appreciated that wholeheartedly. Sitting in silence with them while carrying out menial tasks such as jogging through the forest or watching them cook was enough. They didn’t push you into conversing, and in turn you felt much safer around them as the days passed. 

Meanwhile the approach that other members of the team took was impatient, yet you chuckled at it with appreciation. 

“You should come hang out with us today.” You’d learned that Natasha had a sister, one in the Avengers at that. Her and a younger group of agents handled less intense threats that weren’t world-ending but still required enough attention. And while she seemingly was a different version of her sister, Yelena was still a pleasure to be around. “Kate wants to go shopping, you should too.”

The rest of the team was away on a mission when Yelena walked up to you in the living room, sitting by your side with a sympathetic smile. You weren’t close per se, but alas you sensed her heart to be pure much like her omega’s. If you could trust Natasha and Wanda, you surely could trust them. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with her.”

“You’re really not intruding. Kate asked if you could come and I didn't mind. You spend so much time locked up here, Y/N. We want to help show you the world a little bit.” She kept her distance, knowing already you shied away from any physical touch, but still hovered enough to bring peace with her presence. “Besides, Kate tells me you’ve never tried McDonald’s…”

Traveling through the streets of upstate New York with the two women was more entertaining than you had expected. During the first few minutes of the trip you giggled at how they fought for dominance over who got to drive, only for a pouty Kate to end up melting against the passenger seat mirroring that of a hurt puppy. She stared daggers at Yelena, but after a nonchalant ‘behave’ from her alpha, she settled down. 

The mall was fuller than you could’ve imagined with nearly hundreds of people walking from corner to corner. With your heart beating in your chest, you followed your teammates along, shuffling anxiously as you kept your eyes trained on them as you feared them leaving your sights. Only in their presence could you relax.

“Come on,” Kate squealed, shaking you from your thoughts as she grabbed your hand; to both of your surprises, you didn’t bother pushing her off. “Lena wants to check out other stores so you’ll be my shopping buddy for today.”

Kate resembled that of the sun. A big, glowing sunshine who smiled at just about anything that garnered her attention. She spent most of her time dragging you from store to store, asking for your opinion on different outfits and even wondering if you wanted anything. At first you said no, but with enough pressure she was able to get you to try at least one article of clothing. 

The wondrous world of hoodies was one you never wanted to leave once Kate showed them to you. You didn’t get paid much for being an Avenger, but then again you barely spend any money. With Kate’s influence you followed suit and tried different types of clothes, but ended up going home with quite a few pairs of comfortable hoodies. That way, as Kate explained, you wouldn’t have to wear your suits on the daily. 

“I’ve never bought myself clothes,” you commented as you sat in the backseat of the car, eyeing the full bag of clothes next to you. Yelena watched you through the rearview mirror and a part of her chest swelled up. While you were unaware of it, she had quite a similar experience when leaving the Red Room. Now that useful green vest with an ungodly amount of pockets was used for every mission she went on. “I liked it. Thank you for inviting me, really. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“But we wanted to,” Kate finished. “You know, I’ve never really had another omega friend. Well, not like this anyway. I’m the only omega in the whole team. It’s really nice to have you around.”

“It’s nice to be around, kitty.” You flashed her a smile, a sincere one with pure joy. “Sorry, you sometimes remind me of a cat. You’re very gentle and affectionate with people.”

With the edges of her mouth nearly reaching her ears, Kate nodded. “I like that a lot.”

The three of you soon sat in the car outside the fast food restaurant quietly chewing down your meals. Never had you tasted a burger, let alone their delicious fries or the nuggets Yelena let you have – while she kept some from Kate knowing how rowdy her omega got with too many nuggets. There was enough grease on your food to kill a man, but you found that you quite liked doing anything that didn’t remind you of your time under Rumlow. 

Because with kitty and her alpha being in such close proximity to you, you knew that, just like with Wanda and Natasha, you’d never return to HYDRA. 

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Within the confines of HYDRA, slacking off was not an option. On days that were not busy with countless operations they made agents run, you were to forcefully leave your bed to spend every hour tediously training. No amount of blood lost during it was enough, at least not until Rumlow spit at his feet where you lay writhing on the floor, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before dismissing you to eat scraps for the first time in the day during the afternoon. 

Being shoved into that empty room at what was your previous home became an escape. No matter how many hits and frustrated orders you endured, you began seeking comfort in it. Your mind shut off each time you went in, making you immune to the pain that came with being kicked to the stomach repeatedly until you coughed up red. And when you trained in the compound, the same peace overtook you. No matter how many punches Natasha threw your way, and how many landed, you didn’t feel or take them into account. 

“You’re very well-trained,” Natasha commented with a proud smile. It was the third time her back hit the matted floor. In the beginning she pulled her punches when it came to sparring with you, but even when she didn’t, the former assassin was surprised at how talented you were in hand-to-hand combat. “Finally I have a worthy opponent. Not even the human icicle can keep up.”

“Touché.”

The two of you went on for what felt like hours, alternating between pinning the other down before the positions were flipped. Even if you were an omega, when it came to your training, you never allowed anyone to underestimate you. Natasha was no exception. You’d heard of the infamous Black Widow even during your HYDRA days, but never let it deter you. 

The more you fought, the more intoxicated you became with her presence. You couldn’t help but daydream about how beautiful she seemed with her hair tied back into a messy braid while her body was covered with nothing more than a sports bra and yoga pants. There came guilt with potentially ogling her in such a way, one you knew fully well having been the victim of that gaze long before. But alas, yours came from admiration, not objectifying lust. 

Tiring yourselves out came quickly as the two of you eventually ended sprawled on the mats gasping for air. The only thing that was missing was Wanda. It felt wrong to think of them, especially as they were mated and bound to one another, but you so longed to be with them – to be wrapped up in the safety of their arms as you slept at night while they watched over you. Never did you have a mate, let alone a soulmate who shared the same marking on your arm as you. Dreaming of them was all that could make you happy. 

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Natasha suddenly broke the silence as she turned to you. Those sharp green eyes dug into your skin, turning it hot as you refused to stare back. “Because you are. Anyone would be an idiot not to think so.”

Taking compliments was not your forte, but when they came from Natasha, you blushed. “Thank you. You’re…really pretty as well, and so is Wanda.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you tell her that.” You didn’t shudder when she moved her hand to allow it to land atop your own, her thumb brushing on the back gently. “It’s our weekly movie night date tonight. We, uh, would like you to join us if you’re free, котёнок.”

“I don’t want to be somewhere I don’t belong,” you shrugged. “It’s your date night, it isn’t my place to be a part of that.”

“Hey.” You were surprised by how she grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together as she stared into your soul. “We want you there.”

And you took her words in, but as your gaze shifted down her body, it was the sight of something else that grabbed hold of your attention. Mentally, you slapped yourself in the head for not having seen it before, perhaps even refusing to take it in. There was a marking in her arm that you recognized to be the same as your own, only Natasha’s had the sun colored in while the star, the colored symbol on your own skin, was blank along with the moon.

When it dawned upon you what it meant, your eyes widened. It felt wrong, obscene even, to jump off the mat, but it was the first reaction you had. You left Natasha on the floor, your eyes never leaving her soulmate marking as she sat up with confusion. And when she came to realization of what brought the change in you, her features softened. 

“I know,” she said, and you believed her. For your entire life you’d been told you were a defect, that you’d live your days alone except for the numerous HYDRA operatives that surrounded you. Love, regardless of whether it was romantic or platonic, wasn’t meant for soldiers like you. All that existed was misery. At the first glimpse of that being untrue, of Rumlow’s tortuous words proving to be fake, you were unable to muster a proper reaction. “Wanda knows too. And we…we didn’t know when to tell you. She only found out this week. But we’re not angry, okay? We won’t hurt you the way they did. Hell, we don’t even have to do anything, honey. All we want is for you to be safe and comfortable, and we’re both willing to do whatever it takes to turn that into reality.”

“I…” there wasn’t enough room for you to figure out a proper response. “I don’t…”

So you ran, far, far away. 

Your legs took you to where you needed while your mind was in cloud nine, all hazy and otherwise preoccupied by the newfound revelation. For months since you joined the Avengers, you spent countless nights longing to have Wanda and Natasha. So why did the reality of it turning to be true feel so ominous? Why did you choose an escape that wasn’t them? Why couldn’t you allow yourself even a smidge of happiness?

Hasty movements came to a halt when you suddenly tripped. Crumbs of dirt buffeted your face, leaving you to spatter it out as you sat on your knees. Disoriented, you took notice of your surroundings. In your ragged race to leave the compound, you ended stranded in the woods, the large campus far away from sight. You could’ve ran for hours without noticing if it wasn’t for the fall, and for some reason that brought you a somber wave of fear – one forever present when you resided at HYDRA, but it was never around when you went with them . 

Taking a seat against a beat-up tree that held a few hundred years of life, you let out a sigh. It was the first time you were alone, really alone. Your entire existence was for the sake of others, to bring a service to both HYDRA and the Avengers, but never to yourself. Every hour of every day you had someone constantly standing by your side whether friend or foe. And now that you experience such quiet peace, you clung to it and refused to let go. 

“Y/N.”

Anyone sneaking up on you would receive a mean beating even if absentmindedly, but never them.

“Hey, it’s okay.” It didn’t surprise you that Natasha had brought Wanda around, and quite frankly you weren’t furious about it either. Instead you sat there staring at the atmosphere embraced by lush fauna, breathing in the cool air as the women sat by either of your sides. And knowing you, neither tried to reach out while you were in such a tense state, at least not without consent. “We’re here, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

They noticed you were sobbing before you did. Between your exhausted breaths and shaky limbs, you had been unable to process the tears that fell down your warm cheeks. You weren’t meant to cry , Rumlow told you many times when your training became too much, soldiers didn't cry, only stupid weak omegas did. No matter how many times you’d heard the same string of words slurred angrily your way while clutching your burning and bruised abdomen, they didn’t hold any truth with those women in your proximity. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Natasha hung her head low, ashamed that she hadn’t been careful enough to protect you. “We wanted to make it special, to actually give you a chance to choose us, not feel forced to do it.”

“Nat and I have been planning it since she told me.” Wanda’s voice was softer than Natasha, and although you adored them equally, it was just what you needed during that vulnerable moment. “Given, it hasn’t been a long time, but still. Our only goal is for you to be happy, darling. Ever since you stumbled in here we’ve been trying to find ways to connect with you. Your presence alone makes us so happy.” At the sight of your tear-stricken face, Wanda broke. “Oh Y/N, you have no idea how beautiful of a soul you are. There’s no one in the world quite like you, we know it.”

They were patient with you, lounging back and giving you much needed time to take in the situation. Neither spoke again, not until you wanted them to. For once in your life you had control over something. Even if you were an omega, the alphas didn’t push you. Because at the end of the day, you held all the power. Whatever you liked or disliked, they’d take care of. All that was required of you was…nothing. 

“I’m scared,” your voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do. Omegas like me, broken omegas…we’re not meant for this. The two of you are mated. I can’t get between that, please. And if I must die alone, fine, but the last thing I’ll ever do is bother anyone with my existence – I don’t want to be a burden. Especially to you two.”

“Listen, родная, you will never be a burden. Ever since you came into our life, everything has started to make sense. I love Wanda with my whole being, and she loves me too, but we’ve always been missing a little piece to the puzzle,” Natasha was sincere, suddenly throwing away her entire training as a spy to sit there and level with you, to treat you like her equal, not her prey. “You’re a part of our life now and nothing’s going to change that. It’s up to you how that’ll look like. The last thing we want to do is force you into something you might not want. But whatever you decide, know that we’ll never make you feel as though you’re a burden. You’re so much more than what you give yourself credit for.”

The nod you gave them allowed the alphas to move closer. While you didn’t trust yourself to speak without your emotions turning into overwhelming balls of tears, the silence that took over was more comforting than their words. You melted against them, their arms beginning to feel like a home you never had. The soulmates you’d always had, even if unknowingly, were still rather strangers to you, but in that moment they were all you knew. 

Neither let go, not even when they clutched one of your hands each as they dragged you back to the compound. They oversaw you in getting you to your room, not leaving even after they dropped you in the bed, pulling the sheets to your chest, and ensured you’d have a restful nap. You didn’t know it yet, but it was that moment in which both Wanda and Natasha realized they’d do just about anything to nurture and love you.

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Since you’d found out where you stood with Natasha and Wanda everything was…different. 

There wasn’t much difference in how they treated you, if anything they were slightly more protective than usual. From the moment you stepped out of your room, all eyes were on you, because even the rest of the team knew. Your scent was all over the place, one mixed in with both Wanda and Natasha’s strewn all over you, making you dizzy with need.

When an alert was put out for a remaining HYDRA base, the three of you were sent off to find it. The middle of the snowy woods was not your preferred area to reside in. Sitting within the confines of a beat-up cabin you had found right after the empty base was searched, you huffed. Your knees were pressed against your chest, legs being hugged by your shaky arms as you blew yet another cool breath.

“You should really come here to heat up,” Natasha said from across the room. “You don’t look well, зайка.”

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“Nat,” Wanda whined, her voice stricken with pain as she reached out from her lying position to her mate. “It hurts so bad.”

Natasha had told you about it, about how certain alphas breastfed to feed their omegas, but alas, without an omega, Wanda could barely do anything to help her state. You were left to watch her writhing on the floor with a mixture of pain and cold. And you wanted to help, you really did. Because the way in which the redhead pulled at her mate’s suit until her breasts were released from its confines made you drool.

“I know, крошка.” Natasha leaned down, pressing her lips against Wanda’s forehead. “Let me help you, alright? I’m right here to make it better.”

“Let me help,” you said without thinking. “I want to. I should, right? Because I…I’m your soulmate, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha smiled as she looked up. “That’s right, hon. Come here. Let me show you how to do it.”

Per her instructions, you were to straddle Wanda’s hips. At first you hesitated, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you clung to her hips for balance. Her body felt flushed with your own, warming your freezing body up instantly. Alphas were warm from what you’d been told, and you were glad for it as your skin was unable to withstand yet another wintry hit. 

“Lean down for me. You can open your mouth a bit and take it,” Natasha explained. Her hand was set on your back, carefully leading you downwards. “And you have to be careful. Don’t use your teeth, ‘kay? Start sucking softly. At first it’ll taste a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it. It’ll be delicious, I promise.”

The newfound taste made your eyebrows furrow. It was a strange sensation that overtook you as you wrapped your lips around one of Wanda’s rosy nipples. Never could you fully comprehend what your actions did for her. In your mind all you did was relieve the witch of pain stemming from her uncomfortably full breasts, but to her it meant everything.

“Oh Y/N.” Wanda’s voice was hoarse as she felt you beginning to suck her breast with more vigor. “That’s it, baby. Keep going like that. You have- ah! You have no idea how good you’re making me feel.”

The slick beginning to form between your legs, one still unknown to you, was warm. You ignored it, mentally smacking yourself for not having taken the heat suppressors you’d stolen to keep your cycle at bay. But even while taking them you could feel your body practically begging to have Natasha and Wanda. Now that they were in such close quarters with you, you didn’t want to guess what it would lead to.

Milk poured into your mouth at rapid speeds. Just as Natasha said, it was not an ordinary taste, but the more you drank, the better it got. Your hungry tongue swirled around the tender bud, lapping up every ounce of the glorious liquid you could find before moving to the other one. Hands found themselves squeezing each one as though they had a mind of their own. And while you desperately took everything a moaning Wanda gave you, the former spy sat back licking her lips with admiration. 

“Good girl,” Wanda muttered as she hugged you tight against her flushed frame. “You’re such a good girl for your alphas, darling.”

Normally you’d shudder at the sole mention of alphas, but when Wanda did it, your heart was set aflame. Her words motivated you to finish drinking her last bits of milk until her breasts were no longer sore and full. Natasha had to pull you back and hold your drunk self as her mate sat up, nodding in appreciation as you sagged against the redhead. 

“You did so well for us, принцесса.” Natasha hugged you for the first time that day – really hugged you with her arms fully wrapped around your body and your head nestled on her shoulder. “What a wonderful little omega you are. The very best, huh? Our perfect and beautiful girl.”

The mission no longer mattered afterwards, none of them really did. Your hunt for HYDRA was nothing compared to the sudden need you had to spend all your time surrounded by the two alphas. They nurtured you to sleep that night, each sleeping by your sides to protectively keep you warm as you calmly went unconscious. In the time where you had been both trapped and freed from the horrid organization, you never felt more at home than you did with Wanda and Natasha holding you. 

“You’re safe with us.” They both promised, and you believed them. “No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

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“You know, if you didn’t want to do this, you could’ve just said so.”

At those words you frowned. “It’s not that. I just…” staring down, you grimaced at the sight that met you. “...I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Not only were you dirty with a mess of flour over your arms, clothes, and face, but the areas surrounding you carried the same fate. Out of all the skills you carried under your belt ranging from the ability to speak over five languages to taking someone out with a sole pencil, baking was not one at your disposal. In the HYDRA buildings you knew as your home, food was not a necessity, but a reward. Never had you been able to prepare yourself a meal until you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., forever struggling with the tactics of it. But now when surrounded by a particular set of individuals, you find yourself confused yet enjoying it. 

“Oh honey, that’s not how you whisk it. Here, let me help.” As Natasha stood beside you with her eyebrows raised, Wanda moved from across the kitchen to your aid. Her arms were wrapped around you, the tattoo on her skin no longer hidden by long sleeves, as she grabbed the whisk from your hand. “Follow my lead, sweetheart. Let me show you how it’s done.”

In the midst of baking a cake for the simple fun of it, Wanda’s overprotectiveness came out. While Natasha wore a beat-down graphic tee with comfortable shorts that showed off her muscular legs, the other woman forced proper baking attire along with an apron and hat for you to not get dirty. But alas you did. And as amused as they both were, it was Wanda who set out to prevent any more of a mess. 

“See?” She rapidly spun the cooking utensil over the batter-filled bowl. Holding it with a slight tilt, Wanda maneuvered the items perfectly so that even if she went quickly, nothing poured out. “You have to be patient, Y/N, and learn from your alphas how to do it. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your body suddenly warm due to the close proximity with your alphas. Since you had accepted one another as soulmates and partners weeks before, it was nearly impossible to keep yourself from them. Your mind, soul, and body craved them with a desperation you simply couldn't keep down. Nights were spent in their room being warmly swaddled within the safe embrace as you slept. For the first time in your life, when with your mates you lacked any nightmares hunting you down. “I, uhm, I can leave you to it though.”

“None of that, малышка.” Natasha shifted towards you, a hand of hers landing safely at your hip. “We want to do this with you. You’re the one who said she’s never baked brownies before. So, be a good girl and help your alphas with the yummy treats, huh?”

At the soft tone you nodded. They each had their strengths when it came to exerting their dominance. While Wanda was much stronger with her commands, forever watching over every little step you took, Natasha’s approach was nonchalant yet loving. Both took their time in letting you leave your hardened shell, coaxing you through it all with smiles on their faces. 

The three of you spend your afternoon in each other’s presence. There wasn’t much avail to your lack of culinary knowledge, so by the time you threw the confined batter into the oven, you were covered head-to-toe with egg-yolk, flour, and trace amounts of chocolate rushing down your face. Under the gaze of your soulmates you believed yourself to be scrutinized, but as you turned and noticed their beaming faces, the heavy breath you held was let go of. 

“Why don’t you go pick out a movie with Nat, sweetie?” Wanda told you as she began cleaning the communal kitchen, thankful that the rest of the team was out and that you had the quarters all to yourselves. And when you attempted to tag along and help her, she playfully slapped your hands away. “Go, baby. I’ll take care of this. Don’t you worry your pretty little head off. I want you to relax for the rest of the night, ‘kay?”

And that’s exactly what you did given that whatever Wanda says, always goes. 

Sighing, you comfortably nuzzled against Natasha’s side. It had taken you long to trust them to such lengths where you welcomed physical contact. Between the numerous missions you ran together, the exhausting training sessions, and the ungodly amount of dates they took you on, you easily began holding them close to your heart. 

Once the brownies were done and cut out, a task Wanda disallowed you from carrying out quoting that ‘I don’t want my beautiful omega to hurt herself’, the three of you sprawled yourselves over the couch. An animated movie played in the background, a Disney one Natasha picked out knowing how many you’d missed growing up within HYDRA’s grasp. Surely it was childish, even you were made aware of it, but alas, you found it comforting as you sat between your alphas, snuggled happily while chewing on a soft, warm piece of brownie – the milk provided coming from Wanda’s full breasts. 

“I think I’m ready,” you grumbled against the rosy nipple that you momentarily pulled away from. “For…you know.”

Both alphas stared at you in confusion, yet found themselves amused at how quickly you began suckling on Wanda’s breast once more. A shared, knowing look left them with agape mouths. Of course they longed to finally mate with their newfound omega, but their protectiveness over you was rather strong – the idea of possibly bringing you discomfort by rushing a mating session was one they did not want to humor. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda cautiously asked. 

Natasha clasped your hand as she followed along. “We don’t mind waiting however long you need. Even if you never want to do it, Y/N, we’ll care for you the same.”

“Yeah,” you were sure of something for the second time in your life since choosing to be theirs. “I’m ready.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Since the first moment you saw them, you knew being theirs was all you longed for. 

There was always an innate need to have them close, but as your relationship grew further, that need grew into a carnal one. You could barely stand by them without your legs quivering, skin turning madly hot as you leaned in to your partners. And they knew how much you desired them, because of course it was a very mutual feeling. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda’s eyebrows were furrowed. Normally she was a rather confident woman, but as she stood before you, her gaze shifting down at you where you sat by the edge of the bed, she felt anxious for once. “We can wait, Y/N. It’s more than alright. Anything you want, we’ll give to our sweet girl.”

The three of you were in their shared bedroom, one that had quickly become yours as well, where you sat as they stood before you. Both sulked, lips stuck between their lips as they waited for your green light. They were ready to pounce on you at any second, but only if you allowed them to. 

Since you stopped taking your medication to suppress your heat, it came out in full-force. You could barely speak a word without it coming out as a whine. Your lack of experience with the cycle made it difficult for you to get through them without constantly rubbing your slick-coated thighs together, but alas, you could tell they felt the same. Their hypnotizing stench which came with their ruts filled your parted nostrils. It was delicious, almost intoxicating and left you with your mind all hazy. 

“Please?” You reached out for them, each of your hands grabbing one of their own. “I can’t wait, I need it now.”

They took their time in helping you off your clothes. Each alpha was sweet enough to take it slow, eyeing you questioningly, and waiting for your nod of approval to begin shedding your outfit. Your skin was victim to the cool air from the room that buffeted you as you grimaced, but with each frail touch they gave you, it wasn’t hard for it to warm up. 

Lips found themselves trailing your frame as your clothes were thrown on the floor. They clung to you for dear life, groping your breasts with a need they were finally able to humor. For months they longed to have you, and now that they did, the women let all their inhibitions go for the sake of giving you the best time. 

Wanda disrobed herself first, then came Natasha. They were well-aware of your aversion to alphas, so when their layers pooled at her feet, they were careful to let you adjust to the sight. The well-endowed Avengers pulled back, smiling gently as you shockingly ogled them before they kept going. 

“Lay down, darling. Get nice and comfortable for us,” Natasha mumbled, softly caressing your stomach and guiding you towards the mattress. And when you dropped on it, she was quick to kneel between your legs. “If at any point you want to stop, you let us know. Am I clear, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you husked out knowing that none of you wished to ever stop with heightened cravings for the other. “I understand.”

The two women mirrored the movements of lionesses who sought out their long-awaited gazelle. As Natasha spread your legs apart, her fingernails digging into your smooth skin as a means to hold her animalistic desires back, Wanda took to laying beside you. She held your face in her hands as though life itself was at the tip of her fingers – a life she’d forever cherish and dote on until the end of time. You let her kiss you, your lips falling victim to her captivating shows of love towards you. 

Your slick drove them wild, but even more so as they feasted their eyes upon the drenched mess that was the area between your legs. It was puffy, gleaming with juices that coated your thighs and drooled down to the sheets. Natasha was the first to touch, but then followed her mate who rubbed her fingers across your lips as a means to make your breath hitch. 

“You’re beautiful, honey,” Wanda whispered, her lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Your alphas are so lucky to have such a perfect kitten like yourself.”

She kissed you once more, this time harder than ever with a sudden urge to take your tongue hostage with her own. Hands explored your body, learning where every self-described imperfection lay to stroke it lovingly. Wanda devoured you as though you were her last meal. She wasted no time in getting to know the outline of your frame, one she deemed a piece of art, as though it were the back of her hand. 

“It might feel a bit strange, зайка, but soon enough you’ll enjoy it so much. I promise. I promise.” Natasha was steady with her movements. She ensured you were drenched enough before lining herself against your cunt, her bulbous fat cock barely fitting in her hand as she pushed it forth. Never had she felt such immense warmth than she did when inside either you or Wanda. It made her wild, turning her into an uncaged animal whose eyes turned dark as she watched her penis oh-so slowly sink in you. “Fuck.” Her words were practically grunts. “Oh baby, you feel amazing.”

All three of you watched in awe as Natasha’s dick disappeared into your cunt without much fight. Surely you were tight, never having mated with anyone unless against your will, but with the amount of slick forming as your heat was at its peak, your body gladly took the alpha in. Her gentle movements did wonders to help you relax, that along with Wanda’s soothing words thrown by your ears which steadied your breathing. 

Natasha felt right at home with your walls surrounding her, practically clinging for dear life to her member. Surely she’s mated with Wanda numerous times, but nothing could compare to the deliciousness of having an omega in heat all for herself. It made her growl, letting out the sound which came from the depths of her throat as she grabbed your hips roughly. Your breaths matched with how ragged they were. Never did she let go either, but instead pressed her body on yours as much as she could until she could finally move. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Natasha found herself stuttering. For such a confident agent, it was amusing to see her succumb to pure, unadulterated need without a second thought. “Our perfect little pet. Oh, you’re everything, Y/N.”

The cries you let out were drowned by Natasha’s similarly strangled ones. The two of you were equally frayed creatures. You held onto one another while Wanda simple stared with widely enamored eyes. Her hands were on you, still gripping you as though you’d ever have the nerve to escape her grasp. 

“That’s it. Take your alpha’s cock,” Wanda giggled as she spoke. She inched closer until her heavy breasts rubbed on your face. Although her aching cock was similarly erect and waiting to be in you, her chest felt the most pain due to the milk throwing pain her way. “Here, honey. You can have some milk while Natty makes it all better. I promise it’s delicious, just how my girl likes it.”

Wanda inches herself closer than physically imagined, and like the good omega you were, you opened your mouth to taste her. 

Surely you’d had her milk numerous times since you first officialized your relationship, but in the midst of your heat and her rut, it somehow tasted better than any of the previous times. The sweet nectar poured past your lips, several drops even falling down your chin due to the necessity to drink it. Her nipples were erect and severely tender with your lips wrapped around them.

Sucking her breasts was a true wonder. With her milk, you needn’t have food. Wanda – your alphas – were all you needed as a means to survive. With them by your side, you’d never worry for a second. You were their prey, and the predators would forever protect you as a means to only have you as theirs. 

“I won’t last long,” Natasha sobbed. Her thrusts were gentle but you knew she heavily held back as a means to not harm you during your first mating session. She had yet to even mark or knot you, something that did not seem so ominous when having them as your alphas. “Oh my sweet girl, the things you do to me…”

Your insides were churning with Natasha balls-deep in you. She was rather big, so even if she could inch deeper without causing you immense amount of pain, she was far too large to not draw mewls from you as your cunt was delightfully stretched out. The more you took, the better you were trained by your mates. 

As you sucked on Wanda’s breasts, the redhead pulled you up. You mewled at the lack of milk being poured down your throat, but as you turned to Natasha, you realized she had other more delicious plans. She held you close, forcing a scream from you as you sat up and felt the entirety of her dick being rammed in you as her face went to your neck. 

Wanda and Natasha swooped in for the kill. They each took a side of your neck, pressing their lips against them before biting down harshly. Surely you knew it’d hurt, but never were you told about the wondrous feeling that’d shoot through your body as you were marked by your alphas. They’d previously scented you, rubbing themselves on you so as to forever share the stretch of your desires on one another, but nothing came close to the beauty of carrying their bite marks on your neck. 

That somehow made Natasha’s motions even more violent. She poured her heart and soul into destroying you as her cock pulled out before pushing all the way in – even if it caused a small bulge by your abdomen. And with the more she moved, the bigger a previously-small bulb on her shaft got. 

There came no warning as Natasha’s suddenly huge knot inched itself past your lips and into your cunt. Your slick allowed it to comfortably fit, but alas, a rather loud scream escaped the depths of your throat. The heaving of your chest only grew quicker as you felt hotter than ever, almost ready to let go knowing Natasha was too. 

You failed to notice Wanda’s dominant hand quickly making itself up and down her own cock, jerking it off until it was rosy and begging for permission to cum. She masturbated happily as she watched how Natasha knotted you, stuffing you to the brim with her penis and bulb until you cried out. Knowing you were close, and at times having gotten the same treatment from her mate, she could only give words of encouragement. 

“Let go, princess,” Wanda’s voice was dark and low. “I know you want to, so do it – do it for your alphas.”

And that you did, but so did your partners.

Natasha came simultaneously, embracing you tightly as she grimaced. Never had she gotten the pleasure of receiving such an earth-shattering orgasm. It made her body sagged as she fell limp on you, whose back hit the mattress in an instant. Her knot prevented any of the cum to seep out, instead maintaining it deep in your guts as you squirmed happily. 

“Good girl,” Wanda had a similar worn tone as she too climaxed. “Oh baby, you’re the perfect girl for us. Look at you letting Natty turn you into a proper omega. Hm, now that you have your mates, nothing else matters.”

The three of you were sprawled messes across the bed, clutching one another and never daring to let go. You were unmoving, instead enjoying the feeling of having Natasha still in you, being so warm around her with a tight grip, while Wanda once more gave you her milk to drink. Even if they were spent, they’d do just about anything to care for you. 

It came Wanda’s turn to claim you. She was much gentler than Nat, murmuring tired yet comforting words as she slipped in your cunt before oh-so slowly moving her hips. Even beyond the four walls of your shared bedroom you’d forever have the power. Because by the third time they attempted to keep it going, with a sole shake of your head both alphas ceased her actions and jumped to cradle you in their arms. 

“We’re so lucky to have you.” Natasha was the one who stood in front of you in the shower, ensuring that the water was the perfect temperature for you to enjoy. She’d picked you up from the bed and carefully held you as you were placed to stand on the shower with wobbly legs while Wanda fetched clothes and towels. “You’re even more perfect than what we imagined.”

You didn’t need to tell them the same as they simply knew. No one had been able to get you out of your shell quite like they had. Maria, Kate, and Yelena surely had their attempts, but your mates were the only ones you’d confide in that manner. They could see you in even your rawest states and upkeep their promise of protecting you – of protecting their one true love from harm’s way. And for that they were synonymous with perfection. 

The two alphas made sure to clean you up. Wanda even went as far to wash your hair, smoothly massaging your scalp as a means to both rub shampoo over it and help you relax. There was no carnal need involved, no urge to suddenly claim you. Just…love being poured out of their hearts and into your hands. 

And when Wanda noticed the scarring across your skin, she could only bring you more comfort. 

“So long as we’re alive, we won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” her tone was serious, yet you could hear a hinted edge of sadness in it. Most were the product of HYDRA handlers, but some came at your own hand with your hints of self-hatred and disdain of the life you were forced to lead. “They can’t have you, not while you’re ours. Sweet girl, you are so brave and strong. You never let them take your heart and we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Thank you,” you were at the verge of tears – luckily happy tears – that you weren’t so averse to showing them. “Both of you. I…I can’t think of better mates to have. You two have given me so much. I can’t even begin to think how I could thank you for all you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Natasha interjected. She began sliding clothes on you, her own oversized hoodie and a pair of Wanda’s fluffy socks matched with your underwear. Her hands were like molten as they took tenderness to a whole different level by carefully breezing against you. “Oh sweet girl. You need to understand that all we want is for you to be cared for. We don’t expect anything in return that isn’t your safety. Do you understand? When you’re with us, you never have to worry about anything.”

That night those words finally solidified in you. You were worthy of a place on Earth – in their arms at that. It had been the exact opposite you’d been told at HYDRA, but with them surrounding you, you didn’t allow your previous life to catch up to you; you never would. 

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Nightmares consumed visibly every attempt you gave at sleeping. During your days at HYDRA you were buffeted by both the waking-nightmares and ones faced while unconscious. And you didn’t dare do much about it either. Fighting against them, whether real or not, would only earn you a mean beating. 

“Do you want to sleep here today?” Natasha always asked. By then you called their room, your room , home, but still kept up your quarters as a means of storage. Regardless, she knew to give you a choice so you’d have control of the situation. “You don’t have to, but Wanda said she could read you a bit. It’d be nice to have you.”

That’s how you ended up, like many others nights, squeezed between the two alphas. Natasha was a true fanatic of sleep, so after dropping the sleep-mask on her face, she dropped a kiss on yours and Wanda’s lips before peacefully growing unconscious. Meanwhile you were able to lay closely to your other partner’s side with your head on her chest, very lovingly suckling on her full breasts as a means to feed yourself her milk. 

“...he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, ‘I never dreamed of such happiness as this while I was the despised ugly duckling,’” Wanda made sure to do hilarious voices for each of the characters. She had the book propped up on her stomach, smiling down at how intently you eyed it. “The end.” 

At the sound of that, you grumpily grunted. “That’s it?”

“Yes, sweet kitten, that’s it. I just spent the past twenty minutes reading you this,” Wanda frowned. “And now it’s time for my darling girl to get some sleep. Can you do that?”

“Not sure.”

“Oh baby, I know you’re scared of the nightmares, but I promise they won’t get you this time. You got your big, bad alphas here to keep you safe if you need anything. They won’t get you again,” Wanda reassured you, putting the book away before setting a hand on your head to keep you drinking her milk. “And if you get a nightmare, you know we’ll help you through it. I know it’s not easy, Y/N, and it won’t be for a long while, but you’ll be able to somewhat heal from this. I know you can make new, beautiful memories that you’ll always treasure instead. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled at her. She was the moon to your stars and Natasha’s sun. “But can I stay up for a bit longer? I don’t want to sleep just yet, please.”

Normally Wanda wouldn’t be too keen on allowing you to break any of the rules she set out to place for you, but those wide puppy eyes you flashed her way were far too enticing to ignore. 

“Fine,” she sighed, but there came a smile from it. “But you are going to bed early tomorrow. Does that sound like a good deal, kitten?”

“Hmm sure,” you giggled before nuzzling yourself against her giddily. “It’s a deal then.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Being a mated omega was much more comforting than you could’ve imagined. Not a day passed where you didn’t feel safe around them. You’d often stare at yourself in the mirror, for the first time without disgust, and carefully caress the set of matching bite marks on your neck. They’d long faded, only an outline remaining, but alas, you’d forever wear them with pride. 

“If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

It was Natasha’s warm voice which shook you from your trance. You frowned before turning to her, a beam instantly coating your features as you stood there awaiting her reached-out hand. And when it came, you didn’t wait a second to grab it. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” Natasha pulled you close enough that her lips practically ghosted over your own. “We have a date to catch.”

Often the three of you made sure to spend time together. Between the countless missions you went on and reports you spent hours filling out, the days barely left you a few minutes of freedom. Your jobs were of high importance, but your love for one another meant much more – a shared sentiment by the three of you. 

Natasha helped you in hopping in her car, sitting in the backseat facing your two alphas who took their places in the front. Upstate New York didn’t have much ambiance let alone for the lush forests and lazy rivers. And yet you’d been able to find little gems across the green that you made your own. 

“I made you something special,” Wanda let Natasha carry a picnic basket and a large blanket once you reached the destination. All while she squeezed your hand, brought it to her lips, and planted a sweet kiss that would forever be marked in place. “Chocolate-covered strawberries for my best girl. I’ve been awfully mean and haven’t let you have them for a few days, but now it’s time I spoil you rotten. And don’t worry, I made enough to make your tummy sick from all the sweet chocolatey goodness, baby.”

“You’re so good to me.” You walked beside her towards a bare spot overlooking a valley. There was a sole, exuberant tree which hung around providing the utmost shade as you threw the blanket on the floor. “I’ll try to share this time. Well, only if Nat promises to let me win our next spar session. I can’t believe she promises to give me princess treatment only to purposely beat me.”

“It’s not my fault I’m better,” Natasha teased. “But you got a point. I guess I can let you win, but this time you have to share more than three strawberries. I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat two whole steaks before we went out?” Wanda had been with Natasha for years, but she’d never get used to the bottomless barrel that was her mate. 

“What? I get hungry. Especially after I’ve gone through a long rut. You can’t blame me for wanting food after all the energy I spent trying to make the two of you feel good.”

The three of you shared a hearty laugh as you sat atop the red and white blanket. Picnic dates had quickly become a favorite of yours. There was something rather soothing about the idea of being alone with your mates. You adore the rest of your teammates, but the quality time spent with Natasha and Wanda simultaneously was nearly not enough. To be one with them was to live and if it meant that, you’d forever crave to be alive. 

Laying against Natasha’s front between her legs, you could finally feel at peace. It was a constant thing with them, the complete opposite of what you’d experienced with HYDRA. Even with the memories of all the years Rumlow constantly tormented you alongside his peers being crystal clear in your mind, they could be washed away and replaced by new ones formed with your partners. 

“How do they taste?” Wanda sat before you two alternating between feeding either you and Natasha the delicious strawberries. At times she paused to force you to drink from your water bottle – of course she was rather focused on getting you to remain hydrated. After all, it was her job as your alpha to ensure your health.

Before you could speak, a moan left the depths of your throat. “That tastes amazing. God, I want another one.”

“It’s my turn.” Natasha playfully slapped your side. “Give me one, Wands. Come on. Don’t you remember that time I saved your ass in Sokovia?”

“But our beautiful kitten wants more.” Wanda grabbed yet another strawberry, ignoring the other alpha and instead zeroing in on you. “And who am I to deny her? Open up, Y/N. You deserve all the treats I got to offer.”

Hours were spent staring off into the sunset devouring not only the desserts Wanda made and the snacks Natasha stole from the compound’s cupboards, but also one another. There'd be days where you’d spend them raggedly crying for the memories to finally come to an end, but your mates would be there when they occurred. After all, you were bonded for life and eternity as a whole. 

[ooooo-mcyt]

While I get people's desire to draw parallels within the final four of Secret Life, I really feel like a lot of fanon attempts to juxtapose Gem killing Scott with Scar sparing Pearl are unfair to either Gem or Scott.

I see people imply that either Scott or Gem did something wrong in some way- either Scott unfairly pressured Gem into killing him or Gem devalued her ally by agreeing- and attribute this as the reason they lost in the end while Scar and Pearl- Pearl being 'less pushy' and Scar 'caring more' about his allies- won. The thesis seems to be that Gem made the 'wrong' choice, Scar made the 'right' one, and that's why Scar won over Gem.

Which. No.

The truth is that there was no 'choice' to be made.

At the point where Gem killed Scott, both Pearl and Scar individually had more hearts than Gem and Scott did combined (this is not an exaggeration. gem had 6 hearts, scott had 2.5, pearl had 15, and scar had 17), Scott was an easy one-shot for whoever took the first swing at him, and he had no way to regenerate health at that point. Scar chose to spare Pearl, yes, but Gem didn't "choose" to kill Scott, there was no real choice in the matter. Scott was, practically, already dead, and Gem was close enough if she didn't take the final swing (honestly, even the hearts from scott probably never would have been enough to save her).

I've said this before, but I genuinely believe that Gem and The Scotts were doomed, probably starting from the fight with Grian (who took a frankly shocking amount of health from them all things considered). That fight just spread them too thin, took too much of their health. Impulse died shortly after, and what health Gem and Scott did have was whittled away fighting a team twice their size. Gem and The Scotts were a powerful and competent team with ample resources, but they took a hit the mechanics of the game wouldn't let them recover from, and everything from that point was them desperately fighting against the odds trying to get one of them to the end, even if they must have known how bleak those odds were.

People have called it poetic. 'Gem lost because she didn't value her ally enough, Gem ironically died to a 2v1 after killing the one who would have fought beside her, funny that she's so bitter about the 2v1 when she 'chose' to kill her teammate while Scott didn't, etc. '

And it drives me insane because Gem didn't choose to kill Scott out of some callous desire for an advantage, Gem killed Scott because the latter half of their finale was a slow steadily worsening case study in helplessness and Scott gave Gem everything as an act of love, in the desperate hope that she could find a way despite the odds, (only for it all to be wasted, because it was two against one, and they didn't give gem the chance, and of course that left her bitter)

I'm just so insane about this.

[insertdisc5]

✨COOL THINGS I PLAYED/SAW/READ THIS YEAR, 2024!!!!!!!✨

✨MOVIS✨

Knight of Fortune was such a delight. karl's wife is dead-- he has to go to the morgue. to see her one last time. SURPRISINGLY funny given the theme, and incredibly sweet. AND you can watch it in its entirety on youtube

american fiction! incredible movie that made me think. what does it mean to tell "our stories"? what does it mean to show "representation"? how authentic can you truly be about your own lived experience? funny as hell too

if you havent seen Monkey Man, quite frankly i dont want to talk to you. dev patel i will watch whatever you make for the rest of time

the rest under the cut because this list got long

playtime by jacques tati. just slapstick. oh my god this was so goddamn funny

yeah you know it. i was very strong the whole time and then the credits hit and i started sobbing uncontrollably in the theater

challengers and i saw the tv glow are tied in first place for my favorite movie this year. incredibly funny and SO WELL EDITED. highly recommend watching it with friends so you can scream "OH NO HE DIDN'T" together

✨TV SHOWS✨

SHOGUN!!!!!! oh my god there is so much to praise in this show. the costumes! the actors! the story! how they integrated both english and japanese speakers in a realistic way! so good

korean reality shows are not fucking playing around. the editing and sets are truly top notch

✨BUUKS✨

-Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah! what if black mirror was actually good. AND centered the stories of black people. highly recommend

-Character Limit: How Elon Musk Destroyed Twitter by Kate Conger and Ryan Mac! you probably were on twitter when The Whole Thing happened. maybe you dont know the exact details like i do. what if the details were worse i also dont read non-fiction very often, surprised at how fun this was to read!

-The Chromatic Fantasy by H.A.! I've been following their work since forever, and this was a delight to read as always! THE COLORS…………. BITES BITES BITES BITES

-sad girl space lizard. hell yeah (18+ only!)

-Gritli - The Moth Diaries by Sophie Florian und Hanako Emden! this one was just so strange and fascinating. per words of the authors: "Taking on the voices of anthropomorphic animals, the authors write about labour, companionship and crushing."

✨VIDY GAMES✨

skipping balatro, splatoon side order, fields of mistria and webfishing, because you probably know about those. uuuuh

i am too stupid for Void Stranger, but My God if you're smart this game will become your favorite game ever. 2D sokoban with so many secrets

marchen line!!! nth circle never misses. the visuals here are so fun!!! the UI! the plot! the almost-automatic-censoring when you see gore, as if your mecha body took a second to load!! hell fucking yeah

"adrienne, of the devil was this year" OH WORD? THEN EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY OF THE DEVIL'S FIRST EPISODE WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR

life after magic! magical girls are now adults, and magic is disappearing. what now? the art is so cute, and the story was very engaging. thank you for the additional episode with [spoilers]

i started nine sols and i think i might be enough of a gamer to beat it

shadow generations game of the year no contest. thank you for your time

you can also look at my massive list of stuff i played/watched/etc here. i am not posting this whole dang thing

[leonw4nter]

I Love My Wife!!!

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

A downside to being one of the DSO’s top performing and most trusted agents since 1999 is to be entrusted with handling the new generation of fresh-faced recruits, training them in all aspects necessary to become the next best assets the government has in their fight against BOWs. With each new generation he trains, their slang only gets weirder as they get younger; just the other day, they called him ‘mama’ and said that ‘a girl behind you’. He looks back and sees no one, much to his pupils’ amusement and his ever-increasing confusion.

“What the hell does that mean now?” He asks Hunnigan over lunch before he takes a bite from the egg sandwich you prepared for him. “I never told them about the baby announcement and she didn’t visit yesterday.”

“Oh you know, it’s the kids’ slang. They don’t even make sense anymore,” she says with a restrained smile. “They don’t really mean anything, you just need to see the videos that provide the context but each time the context doesn’t even make sense.”

“Kids these days,” he mumbles as he shakes his head. His blond-turned-brown locks sway with the slight movement.

“Oh relax, you were their age once.” The communications expert agent teases.

“Yes, but our slang was never this nonsensical,” he retorts. “If you guessed smart enough you could figure out what the words actually meant back in ‘98.”

“Good point,” she agrees before digging into her salad. “They’re bringing back everything from the late 90s though: low-rise pants, flared jeans, mini shoulder bags, and so much more that I thought we left behind in the past.”

Lunch continued on smoothly with small conversations in between bites of sandwich and sips of soda. The phone on Leon’s chest pocket buzzed to life, an illuminated rectangle revealed behind thin cloth. Wiping his hands, he fishes it out and checks the caller ID.

“Gotta take this one,” he says as he gets up from the table. “She’s calling.”

He walks outside of the store and into a not-so-busy sidewalk, not letting his phone ring for a little longer.

“Hey sweetpea,” he says. “How’s your day goin’?”

He vividly visualizes your smile right before you speak. “Oh y’know, it’s great. Yours?”

“It’s been great too,” he can’t resist but let a smile tug the corner of his lips upward. “Why’d you call? Need anything?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘P’ sound. “Just wanted to hear your voice today. Stupid reason, I know.”

“No, it’s not stupid sweetheart. I wanted to hear your voice too,” he softly responds. “Day’s going to be busy for me: bigwigs are making me teach theoreticals to the rookies today, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. They’re always boring.”

“I’ve never sat through one of your lessons but it already sounds boring,” you comment with a dramatic sigh.

“Are you saying that my teaching is boring?” He asks, voice laced with feigned offense.

“Well…” you trail off, breaking into a small giggle.

“You just broke my heart, ouch.”

“Kidding!” You swiftly respond even though you know his feelings were never hurt in the first place. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“That’s why I’m your husband.”

“Okay, that’s enough cheesiness for today mister. That’s all, you can get back to your lunch now.”

“That was just one joke,” he points out. “Okay, I’ll get back inside and demolish the rest of the sandwich you made me. Take care of yourself and the baby for me while I’m at work, okay honey?”

“Yes, I will, don’t worry.”

“Okay, that’s great. You end the call, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

The call ends so he brings his phone away from his ear, lovingly taking a moment to admire your beaming self saved as his contact photo– you, bundled in dense scarves and insulating layers, smiling brightly at him in the middle of a street covered in crunchy white now. He walks back in the shop, taking his seat to finish up the rest of his snack and energize for the long day that is yet to unfurl.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Nightfall has finally seized the day, the absence of the sun in the sky prompting Leon to swiftly pack his belongings and drive home to his darling wife. Just as he finally zips his laptop sleeve, his coworker Patrick leans on his cubicle and starts talking.

“Got any plans?” A loaded question.

“Yeah,” he says as he locks his drawer. “Stayin’ home with the missus and watching TV.”

“Me and the others are going out for drinks tonight. It’s been a week and I think we all deserve to unwind, no?”

“Mhm,” Leon hums absent-mindedly as he makes sure that there’s nothing plugged on his desk.

“C’mon, man. A drink or two with us won’t hurt, we’ll be at a bar a few minutes away from here. Drinks are on Miller and Ronson,” Patrick adds. Leon hasn’t touched a glass of alcohol in months, his previous alcohol issue and current sobriety progress kept secret amongst his most trusted circle. Patrick, and the rest of the agency, is oblivious to his relationship with alcohol.

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll definitely pass,” the seasoned agent coolly says as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “Bars aren’t really my scene.”

The curly-haired agent’s shoulders slumped but he took Leon’s answer, gaze trailing after him as he neared the door.

“If you’ll be in here a little longer, don’t forget to shut the lights on your way out.”

Patrick’s back straightens up and nods, following after Leon since he doesn’t have any business to do in the room now that Leon’s made his mind on heading straight to home.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The ringing of the doorbell shifts your attention from laying out skincare materials on the kitchen island, face masks and other sheets cool from being kept in the fridge. You excitedly skip over to the front door, walking normally on the remaining half of the lap because ever since that test showed positive, you’ve been a lot more susceptible for motion sickness.

“Welcome home sweetie pie,” you greet your husband in a silvery singsong voice as you engulf him in a hug of unmeasurable comfort. He leans into your touch, melting in the middle of your arms as he returns a hug of his own.

“Missed you s’much,” his voice muffled from his face burrowed in the crook of your neck. His arms encircling your frame tightens slightly, wordlessly communicating his yearning for your affectionate touches.

“Tired?” You ask as you pull away from the hug and invite him in, keeping him company by the doorstep as he takes off his coat and shoes.

“Mhm,” he affirms. “Didn’t do anything physical today but y’know, it’s still a pretty draining workday today.”

“A coworker invited me for drinks in town after work hours ended but I declined,” he adds before he could forget. “That could never match up to a night staying in with you.”

“It’s nice that they thought of inviting you. That's progress from everyone aside from Hunnigan being intimidated and too scared to approach you,” you point out. “Anyway, I got a surprise for you!”

One glance at your glowing smile and infectious elation soothes your husband’s spirit, giving him an added boost of energy. “Yeah? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise for a reason, dummy. Freshen up first and I’ll show you. Close your eyes when you pass by the kitchen!”

“Gotta hold my hand first, I might bump into something and seriously concuss myself.”

“Leon we’ve lived in this house for 4 years, you know the layout like the back of your hand.” Despite that, you still take his hand and lead him.

He’s finally freshened up, now wearing a worn-out sleep shirt paired with Batman pajama bottoms. His head rests on your lap, your fingers idly playing with his silky soft tresses as you watch one of those corny reality TV shows about finding love on boats– or tropical cruise getaways, you corrected him moments ago; he makes more than enough money to spoil you to a tropical cruise so he makes a mental note to start some research while you’re asleep. His hair is kept away from his face by a fuzzy Mike Wazowski headband, matching with your own fuzzy Sully headband as chilled face masks rest on your faces. There’s sliced cucumbers resting on his eyes and a jelly lip mask on his already-perfect lips, challenging his resolve to stay awake and listen to you rant about Basic White Man with A Beard and A Tan #3’s stupid decision. Playing with his hair is tempting him to fall asleep but carefully scratching his scalp while you’re at it? It’s like you’re commanding him to drift off to Dreamland ASAP.

“Man, I love my wife,” Leon quietly murmurs to himself before he’s out cold, snoring deeply. Despite your yapping, you didn’t miss his words and blush to yourself. He must’ve had a truly exhausting day so you lay a blanket over his sleeping frame and turn the TV off.

“Hey, do you know what ‘mama a girl behind you’ means? I’ve been hearing it from my trainees all day.”

NOTES - yipee, first di!leon fic in... 7 months :0 ?!?!?! this fic is pretty much just stream of consciousness, i wrote the fic + formatted the post while listening to ASMR and actively fighting off sleep (it's quarter to 4AM in my area uyurhgrh). i kept repeating 'mama a girl behind YOU 💜' in my head randomly so i was like "hey yk what why not add that into my fic heehee so silly :D" and thus this fic was conceived. also guys i read on twitter that re9 takes place 4 years after re:village and since leon's there... we're going to see his chronological appearance which also means he'll look old... mmm yummy :3 and he's dripped out similarly to re:damnation... mmm yummy :3 also my nail is peeling off so imma have to lay off of nail polish for a bit aw :'( anyways, thank you to everyone supporting me and reading my fics!!!!!!!! I <3333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (hearts and support banner) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[inkdrinkerworld]

Fake I.D

synopsis: cowboy!james is infatuated with you and your flirting, so you take him line dancing to get him to make a love

cw: suggestive content, 18+ only, grinding, flirting, use of the word pervert, James and reader are kind of idiots in love

Your hot pink and white boots will be the death of James and he knows you know that.

He can count on one hand how many times he’s seen you out of them and the total number of times is one- every other time, it’s been those godforsaken hot pink and white boots with a thick heel that makes your legs look like something out of his teenage wet dreams.

You’re not new in town, you and James have known each other since primary school but it was in secondary school that you really plagued his every waking thought. You were pretty, and kind, but also confident and didn’t take shit from anyone. James found it wildly attractive.

You and James hadn’t been close friends, but you’d always been friendly. His friend Sirius had introduced you both at a party, and you’d been friendly since that.

The turning point in you and James’ friendship had come not too long after you’d started working at a salon.

James’ parents own the biggest horse farm in town, and you’d rescued a tiny colt that had been trapped up in some bushes while you were on a hike, and drove it to James’ family ranch in the back of your pickup with tears in your eyes because of the cuts on its legs.

James had never seen you, loud, confident you, in tears like that and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as you hiccuped through your words to tell him about the colt. He and his dad had taken it out of your tray and everyday the colt was on the ranch, you went over to check on him.

Eventually, James was able to nurse the poor thing to perfect health and then asked you if you wanted to name it after his dad told him they’d keep it.

James wasn’t shy himself, but sometimes when you looked right into his eyes, lashes framing your eyes, it made his heart stutter.

“You really think I should?” You had asked, eyes wide with excitement but also a bit of apprehension.

“Yeah, ‘course. It’d only be right.” and as you had stroked the near blood coloured mane, the face of the horse in your other hand, the name came to you easily.

“Copper.”

You and that horse and James had been inseparable after that and James nearly lost his breath every time you went to the ranch after that- cutoff shorts, hot pink and white boots and shirts James swore made him feel like a pervert.

Now, you’re at James’ ranch, a brush in Copper’s mane as you look at James tending to his own filly- Moondancer.

“Please Jamie? It’s fun and you never stay for the dancing.”

He knows he’s fighting a losing battle. You’re doing those puppy dog eyes and you’ve got red eyeliner on to match your shirt and James feels a little overwhelmed with his attraction to you.

“I’ll be your partner all night, Jamie. Won’t leave you to be eaten up by the ladies- save that luxury just for me.”

You giggle when he sputters and his cheeks flush. “Alright, angel. What time do I meet you at the Boneyard?”

You gasp, all faux aghast. “You won’t pick me up at my house? Where’s your southern hospitality?”

James rolls his eyes, “I can do that too. Say seven or eight?”

You pop your hip as Copper nuzzles into your hand. “Will you be all done by then? I don’t want you to cut into your chores and stuff Jamie?”

You’re so earnest, and the flirting has been put to a pause making James turn to goo.

“I’ll be all done, angel. Don’t worry.”

At five thirty, you’re all finished with your makeup, nothing too extreme, just a smokey eye with glitter on your lids and the heavy black eyeliner you noticed James likes.

Your hair is out and ripples down your back in loose curls, your most recent haircut making them look even better than usual.

You’re not trying to impress him, but you have a plan for how tonight is going to end and you want James to finally take all your flirting as seriously as you mean it.

So you dress up and pull out all the stops that you know he likes- the hot pink boots a must, your low rise jeans, and your skirt that says, ‘save a horse.’

When James knocks, you squeal, boots clacking as you race to the door.

“Hey Jamie,” you sing-song as you pull the door open, James taking in a deep breath as his eyes rake over you.

“You look stunning.” There’s a little husk to his voice that you love.

As he gives you a once over, you do the same. He’s dressed in his most relaxed pair of jeans, a blue wash that makes his already thick thighs look ever thicker, a black t-shirt that clings to his arms and nearly makes you drool and his hat. God you love and hate his hat- you love it because he looks stunning in it; but you hate it because it hides away his pretty curls. God you love those curls.

“So do you, Jamie.I like your shirt, it makes your arms look nice.”

He smirks, a little emboldened. “Oh yeah?”

You nod, stepping out of your door, “Ready to go?”

James nods and holds his arm out to you, smiling to himself when your hand wraps around his bicep and not his forearm.

The Boneyard is packed as it usually is, most of the patrons are already more than a little drunk, but you spot some of the girls at your salon, some of James’ friends and some tourists who’re no doubt in tonight for the line dancing.

“A cherry vodka angel?” James asks, wanting a drink to dispel some of his nerves.

“Yes please, James. I’ll go see what songs they have for tonight.”

James nods, watching you walk off first before going over to the bar. Sirius is working tonight, a smirk on his face as he spots James and then spots where he’s looking.

“Finally doing something about all her flirting, Potter?” he asks and James flushes a little as Sirius passes him a beer and then makes your drink without James saying a word.

It takes him a little by surprise that Sirius knows it, but then it dawns on James that he talks about you a lot to his best friend. A lot.

“Trying, but she makes me so fucking nervous, Pads.”

Sirius laughs, patting James on the arm.

“Doesn’t sound so bad, Jamie. You’d be a fool not to be nervous about that girl. She’s trouble all over in the best way.”

James is very inclined to agree.

“Hey Siri, you being nice to James?” You take your drink gratefully and take a sip.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, trouble.” You shrug with a pretty devious smile on your face- James’ heart rate picks up. “Saw you looking at the setlist, you and Potter planning on dancing?”

You nod, smiling when you look up and find James looking at you with fondness written boldly on his face. He’s easy to read, never one to guard his feelings, James.

“Yeah, they’re finally doing Fake I.D again so I figured I’d take James’ virginity in that regard.”

James, bless him, doesn’t sputter, which he’s eternally grateful for. Sirius shares a wicked grin just like yours.

“Don’t make it too vulgar, Remus’ll run you off the dance floor.”

You put your hands up, “I make no promises.”

James is saved from any more teasing from either of you when the song starts playing.

“C’mon Jamie, it’s starting.” He lets you pull him after he downs the last of his drink.

“What if I mess it up?” He whispers as you tug him along. Your hair whips at his chest as you turn to look back at him and he can smell your vanilla shampoo and shuts his eyes for a brief moment.

“You won’t, just follow my lead. You’ll be perfect.”

It takes him a couple steps to get into the song, but seeing you smiling and giggling makes James fall deeper into the music.

The floor rumbles with everyone’s steps, but all you can think about is James behind you as you dance in a circle.

“James!” you squeal when you feel his hands hold onto your hips, James smiling wide as you lean into him a little.

As the guitar solo riff continues you know you have to stay close to James for this part. It isn’t hard because it seems like you’ve both magnetized to each other more than before. As the beat drops, you feel like time has slowed, the words filter into your ears all muffled and soft as you pull James close by his shirt, your chests pressed together. “Hey mister, won’t you sell me a fake i.d.”

You see his breath hitch more than you feel it. You’re both grinding on each other on the dance floor, and it’s way more erotic than anything else either of you could’ve been doing.

“Fuck,” you feel the whisper as James’ hand cements itself to your hip and one of yours buries in his hair.

You tip his hat onto your own head and you swear James’ chest rumbles. “Angel.”

You’re breathless as you and James dance, you feel like you’re the only people on the dance floor.

He dips you backward and you bite back a moan when one of his hands travels up your back to keep his hat on your head. As he picks you up, his fingers knot in your hair and your lips just barely meet.

“James.” You breathe his name and he groans.

“You really are trouble.” his lips meet yours, tentatively at first, and then his mouth consumes yours the moment you kiss him back.

You pull apart and smile, “Took you long enough, James.”

He shakes his head, his dimple poking out as he chases your lips. “You look so good in my hat.”

His stare turns you a little shy and you duck to hide your face in his chest; James laughs at the action.

“Come outta there, sweetheart. Can’t hide those eyes from me now.”

You groan, but look up at him. “Have you always been this smooth?”

James nods, tipping your chin up just a bit higher to kiss your lips again. “Just for you,” you beam at that. “My heart’s thumping.”

“Mine too,” You kiss his jaw, teeth scraping a second path. “Wanna get out of here?”

James slips his hand in your back pocket eliciting a keen he wants to hear more of. “Get your cute butt in my truck, angel.”

You giggle as James squeezes before releasing you, holding your hand with his hat sitting proudly on your head as you stomp your feet out of the bar to his truck. He really does love those hot pink boots.

[burningembers91]

A Voice Like Honey - Kang Dae-Ho x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Kang Dae-Ho doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. After running from the life his father had planned for him, he meets you. But he can’t seem to find the words to tell you how he feels

Kang Dae-Ho had always been more of a lover than a fighter. He’d never enjoyed playing Call of Duty or watching violent movies like his friends did. He always steered clear of the fights that broke out in school, or the rough games kids played in the schoolyard. He was scared of pretty much everything - the dark, snakes, spiders, the feeling of going upstairs and thinking someone or something is chasing after you. Dae-Ho would rather sit and daydream all day, and spent many a day dreaming about the life he’d lead one day. he was a talented musician, able to play any song after hearing it only once. His voice was like soft, warm caramel, and he was never short of girls hanging onto his every lyric.

But the life of an artist wasn’t the life his dad had in mind for him. He was a proud army veteran and had served his country for many years, just as his father had, and his father before him. Dae-Ho was the only son he had, and his father expected, or rather insisted that Dae-Ho follow in his father’s footsteps. A musician was no life for his son, and it would be the greatest dishonour to be made a fool of.

So Dae-Ho enlisted for his mandatory service in the military as soon as he left school. He thought that’s what his father wanted. He figured that after he’d served his duty to his country, he’d be free to pursue music. Dae-Ho hated his time in the military. The sound of gunfire terrified him, the late nights and early mornings, the extreme physical toughness almost broke him. But he father expected more, expected him to carry on once his mandatory service was over. Every day he would press leaflets and phone numbers into his son’s hands, send him advertisements for open days with the army and marines. Dae-Ho had never been able to stand up to his tyrant of a father, so he begrudgingly attended an interview with the marines. He was cleared for basic training, and his father was over the moon. But Dae-Ho couldn’t do it. The thought of returning to a place that still gave him nightmares was more than he could take. Instead of enlisting, Dae-Ho packed his bag and ran. He had money saved up, and he wanted to see the world.

He started in America, then moved to Europe, staying over in hostels and motels. He made lifelong friends, played his music in pubs and bars in tiny towns and villages. He grew his hair, tattooed his body, did everything he knew his father would disapprove of. When his money began to dwindle, he returned to Seoul, taking up a job in a bar that allowed him to sing a few nights a week. It didn’t make him much money, but it made him happy.

The bar was where he met you, another fellow songwriter with a voice like honey. He got lost in your words, your voice carrying him on a wave of emotion he’d never felt before. You sang together a few times, your voices in perfect harmony as your double act packed out the bar.

Dae-Ho had been with his fair share of women while travelling, but none of them made him feel like you did. He was like a nervous schoolboy around you, tripping over his words. But when the two of you sang, it was like you were made for each other. Each night, he tried to gather the courage to ask you out. He would walk you to your apartment, but could never seem to find the words to express his feelings.

You were perfect in every way, but Dae-Ho had always been a coward. He was too scared to tell his dad why he ran away, and he was too scared to tell you how he felt. He hadn’t spoken to his family in 18 months, too terrified to face them after disappointing them so badly. So he spent his nights at the bar, singing and serving drinks, and watching the woman with the voice of an angel, wondering when he’d be brave enough to bare his soul to her.

[annalacerda17]

This!

This is exactly right.

Also, from his own perspective, Wei Wuxian couldn't have chosen to ignore what was going on in the labor camps once he had learned about it, because that would go against everything he was as a person.

He didn't fight for the Wens because he thought that would accomplish something. He always knew he was just buying them time, and that there was no guarantee he would be able to save them for good. He certainly hoped so at one point, but as things progressed it became clear to everyone that they were living on borrowed time.

But to Wei Wuxian that wasn't the point.

The point is that a horrible injustice was done to those people, and he found out about it, so he couldn't ignore them and go on with his life, because that would go against his very nature.

Wei Wuxian knew very well that taking the Wens out of the labor camps would paint a huge target in his back. He knew that the sects were corrupt to their core. He had noticed that the Jin sect had been trying to occupy the power vacancy left by the Wen sect. Wei Wuxian wasn't a fool, and he wasn't overestimating his abilities either.

Actually, I think a lot of people read this part of the story and assume Wei Wuxian was politically illiterate. That's not true at all. If anything, it's Jiang Cheng who is a political fool who falls for every one of the Jin sect's traps.

Wei Wuxian was very aware of the political undercurrents, and made his choices accordingly. However, and this is the point the novel tried to make, one man can't change society by himself, no matter how right or how powerful he may be. Wei Wuxian's social class was working against him, and that made it impossible for him to speak to the other decision makers of the cultivation world - the sect leaders - on equal terms. This also meant that the culprits were the ones controlling the narrative, which is why Wei Wuxian's reputation was destroyed so thoroughly.

Wei Wuxian's only option was to deter them with brute strength. I'm making this point because so many people in this fandom keep asking why Wei Wuxian didn't just talk things out. Like, he tried. But in my opinion it was very clear in the novel that nobody wanted to listen to what a son of a servant had to say. Especially a son of a servant who dared to be powerful and refused to bow his head to the upper class.

When he chose to fight for the Wen remnants, Wei Wuxian did so hoping that if nothing else happened, his power and the Yin Tiger Tally, combined with his choice to settle in the burial mounds would be enough to deter the sects from pursuing them further. But he always knew that this wasn't an indefinite solution to the problem.

The point is that Wei Wuxian didn't "throw his life away" for nothing, because when he decided to protect the Wens he wasn't expecting to save them forever. He knew very well that he was borrowing time for them and that the chances of things working out permanently were quite low. He had hope, but everyone there knew it was far-fetched. He still chose to do it because he didn't see it as throwing his life away. For Wei Wuxian, protecting the Wens was his only choice in that situation, because doing otherwise would be the same as throwing away his soul. Wei Wuxian could never turn a blind eye.

one mild sentiment i see echoed around alot is that despite everything, wei wuxian failed to “save” the wen remnants, that him going to such great lengths was an effort in vain. but... no?? he did accomplish alot by taking them to the burial mounds. he gave them time. he gave them a period of peace and community life. he gave their elders a sense of togetherness. he gave them a chance to heal some of their wounds together. he prevented their slow, agonising, brutal, INDIGNIFIED deaths at the labor camps, prevented their daily suffering under the oppressive guards.

as wen qing said: they all should have died a long time ago but wei wuxian’s efforts did bear sweet fruits, however bitter the end might have been.

and here’s the thing. the wens survived through wen yuan. their legacy still remains because all the remnants and wei wuxian (and ofc lan wangji) fought to see that happen. imagine if they hadn’t, if wei wuxian wouldn’t have done anything. the wens would have seen their demise in the labor camps with nary a mention of their deaths. they would have been wiped out without ever getting the chance to say their piece or take their stance. as things went, atleast wen qing and wen ning faced their deaths bravely, as leaders of their community. atleast, wen yuan could live a fulfilling life. atleast the wen remnants had a year and more together, to enjoy some of the peace the post-war cultivation world was enjoying.

and that is what wei wuxian gave up everything for. a cause greater than himself.

[villainbait]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Sukuna x reader | Sukuna x genderless reader Rating: 16+ Tags: brief gore mention, canon sukuna behavior, angst, thriller, horror if you squint, drama, reincarnation, Summary: "I will find you." In your past life, you were Sukuna's jailer. In this one, you're simply an office worker hoping the King of Curses has simply forgotten you. Word Count: 750~ A/N: Sorry for the Sukuna jumpscare? I feel like most of you follow me for Sylus/LADS content, but I wrote this drabble as a warm up. ♥

“Hey, did you hear?” 

You half tune out the notorious office gossip, though you’d be lying if you didn’t sometimes enjoy hearing the petty drama happening within jujutsu society. The two in suits next to you were hardly attempting to keep their voices down, anyway. 

“The King of Curses is back.” 

You choke on your food. 

“Yeah man, he manifested after a thousand years inside some pink haired high school kid. Kid isn’t even a sorcerer, everyone’s shocked he didn’t die.” You took a chance and peeked at the guy sharing the gossip just in time to see him look disgusted. “I heard he actually ate the finger. What kind of psychopath just eats a cursed object, sorcerer or not?”  

Unbidden, a memory surfaced. 

“I will always find you, in every life if I must.” His four hands wrap around the bars despite the barrier and you feel the cursed energy keeping him confined shudder, but the wards hold fast as he slams himself against his cage. “You cannot escape me.”

The threat rings in your head like it was uttered yesterday, instead of a thousand years ago. 

“Get this, rumor is kid can control him.” 

You can’t help the dry snort of laughter that makes them look at you strangely but you ignore them and take a bite of your food that suddenly tastes like sandpaper as you fight the bubbling panic. 

The thought of your life being in the hands of a teenager’s control didn’t comfort you. You pulled out your phone and thumbed through your contacts, your finger hovering over Gojo Satoru’s number. Even if the head of the Gojo clan did answer your unknown call (unlikely), he was so lackadaisical that you had little hope of him taking you seriously at all.

The rest of the day ends in a blur of boring meetings and other tedious jobs that are handed down to worker bees like you and your other coworkers. Once or twice you were reprimanded by your superior for your lack of attention, but the conversation kept replaying that you had overheard at lunch; distracting you.

You tried to console yourself with the thought that Sukuna might have forgotten you, knowing full well he would never forget his gaoler. As you made your way to the train station, your anxiety eased with the realization that he didn’t know what you looked like in this century. You were lucky to have been reincarnated with a face that did not look like the original one you wore when you had met Ryomen Sukuna a thousand years ago when you had imprisoned him.

With his threat still ringing faintly in your ears, you stepped up to the yellow line and waited; your mind adrift as another long forgotten memory swirled beneath the surface.

His breath feathers across your ear and you shudder. “Beg me,” he murmurs, clawed fingertips raking across your stomach with a deceptively delicate touch. He could slice right through you, and you both knew it. “Beg me to save you.” 

“Sukuna,” you whispered his name with reverence and heard his breath catch from behind you. “Sukuna please, they’re coming.” 

“I’ll hear your explanation after,” he hissed and released you abruptly, joy splashing across his face at the prospect of a fight. It’s over before it had a chance to begin, the group of Heian sorcerers reduced to mere ribbons of flesh piled neatly on the ground. In an odd twist of fate, they had been hunting you, not Sukuna and he wanted to know why. It was clear you had intrigued him. 

“Weak.” Condescension drips from his tone, clearly unimpressed by their prowess and power. He flicks the remnants of flesh and blood from his fingers as if such filth is not worthy to touch his skin. 

He stalks towards you with the lazy ease of a prowling beast and you desperately want to run again. Not that you’d make it a single step, so you don’t even try. He reaches for you–

The announcement snaps you out of your thoughts as you’re pushed towards the entrance of the train.

“Rapid train bound for Shinjuku will be arriving at platform 3 shortly. Please stand back behind the yellow line and wait.”

Little did you know as you boarded the train, a certain pink-haired young man had been standing four rows down, staring curiously at you the entire time as a certain curse sweetly whispered convincingly to him.

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) Zaun Died with Silco

I want to open this by saying I understand people who are upset that there isn't more Piltover/Zaun conflict and resolution in S2 of Arcane. However, I'm going to argue here that the reason it's not in S2 after 2.03 is because the conflict is over. Piltover won. There is no more Zaun anymore as a potential political player and, ultimately, this comes back to haunt Piltover in their hour of need.

Overall, while I am invested in the Piltover/Zaun conflict, especially in S1, I'm less focused on Caitlyn and Vi's story which is our main lens for the conflict, or rather the end of the conflict, in S2. Still, I hope to offer my more Arcane worldbuilding-focused perspective. And just to get it out of the way, here are a few things I had trouble with:

I too was puzzled that anyone from the Undercity would join Piltover in the defense of the city.

I also thought it was strange to have Jayce focus on the threat that Viktor posed with his robots while soliciting help from the undercity, instead of on Ambessa, the more clear and understandable threat that would have made a better rallying point and allowed for a final discussion about the Noxian occupation of the undercity and how Noxus turning on Piltover was just them reaping what they sowed.

I was certainly taken aback when everyone was given Enforcer uniforms for the final fight.

That said, I believe there are answers to all three of these. From there, I want to dive into what exactly happened in S2 with Piltover vs. Zaun, to my eyes. Short version: there is no more "Zaun" as a potential nation or political player by 2.03 when the Chem Barons are taken out by Cait's forces, but it really died before that with Silco, who was already in a precarious negotiating situation himself and he knew it.

Very few people from the Undercity joined Piltover's defense of the city. Maybe a half dozen. I felt that was our moment of "you reap what you sow" for Piltover. A few passionate idealists who could see the bigger picture that saving Piltover does mean saving the undercity joined, but there were no hordes of volunteers. Piltover had lost the right to them and was substantially weakened for it.

Jayce choosing to focus on Viktor as the threat makes sense for him, but it was a poor political move and probably lost him volunteers he would have otherwise gained. The robot army threat is too esoteric and fantastical. "The Noxians turned on us and plan to conquer the city," is a threat that would have been better for rallying the troops, Jayce is just too single-minded to think of it. He's a bad politician.

The Enforcer uniforms are an odd sour note, but they do make sense as protective gear. Piltover doesn't have an army. There are no uniforms to give people. All they have is Enforcer uniforms. It is an odd note symbolically, but practically speaking it shows how little time Piltover had to prepare. Piltover is a civilian city going up against a military force like Noxus. They are woefully underprepared and really only have their status as defender in urban fighting to give them a prayer of even stalling the Noxian forces. Ironically, Piltover's only hope against Noxus mirrors Zaun's only hope against Piltover if they had gone to war: the difficult nature of urban fighting against an entrenched, motivated opponent on their home turf.

Now, to get into, "What happened to the overall Piltover vs. Zaun fight?" I get why people think it's lacking in S2, and I get why people find it horrifying that there is no independent Zaun at the end, all we've got is Sevika with one seat on the Council, as far as we can tell but I would point out:

Zaun is dead at this point. It's been dead since 2.03. Arguably, it really died with Silco.

As Jinx said, she didn't just destroy her own family, she cursed an entire society when she launched that rocket into the Council Chamber.

Here's the thing, Jayce was actually right when he said Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in an outright war with Piltover.

Yes, Zaun has a lot of brawlers. They have Shimmer and the Shimmer berserkers.

But Zaun doesn't have any sort of organized fighting force beyond the guards of individual Chem Barons and their factories.

What Zaun has is the fissures. It has ugly, difficult urban fighting in dangerous spaces. But as a counter to that, we have the fact that their ventilation is controlled from Piltover. In a true all-out war, Piltover could in theory just flush out the entire undercity using the Gray. Having your infrastructure entirely dependent on an enemy oppressor is what I would call a "fatal flaw" in any defensive military strategy, particularly when what they can cut off is the air you breathe. That's easily game over right there unless Silco has a way to circumvent that.

In a guerilla war, Zaun could probably hold out for a long, grinding, ugly civil war made up of mostly guerrilla attacks, in which a great number of innocent civilians will die, even in an all-out conflict with Piltover. But it would suffer catastrophic losses and probably still lose in the end.

Now, Jayce is I think somewhat naive in his claim Zaun doesn't stand a chance. Maybe Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in the long run, but they'd make Piltover pay for every inch with blood. They'd grind Piltover down into a shadow of its former self, force them to sacrifice all of their principles. To some extent, I think Jayce gets that, he gets that he doesn't want more kids to die, but I think even he underestimates just how ugly that war would be and how long it would go and how unrecognizable his Piltover would be by then.

The moment that gives Silco pause in Jayce's assessment of how easily Zaun would be crushed isn't the fighting. Silco is pretty confident that they could make Piltover pay and he's arguably looking forward to the chance on some level.

What gives him pause is when Jayce says the Council doesn't care.

To some extent, Silco like any revolutionary against an oppressive "civilized" society (heavy, heavy emphasis on the air quotes there) is that a certain point, Piltover is so soft-hearted they will get tired of the bloodshed.

What Jayce just told Silco is that the Council is more barbaric than even Silco maybe appreciated, for all their vaunted principles. There isn't necessarily a limit to how many Zaunite children will die before Piltover decides to cease hostilities. Knowing what Silco knows of Piltover's brutality, I think that is a sobering moment for Silco. That's when he decides this really is the best time to negotiate.

(Aside, this is by the way where Vi is wrong about Silco, driven by her emotions. Silco is willing to set aside the feud to get his nation of Zaun, he can be negotiated with. He's just not willing to give up his daughter (something Vi can't possibly understand at this point).)

Here's why it's the best time for Silco to negotiate and it ties into everything else:

Without Shimmer, which has been severely hampered by the raid on the factory, Zaun doesn't have anything to counter Hextech.

Jinx's wild attacks against Piltover has helped put the pressure on them that Silco capitalizes on. But it is a paper-thin threat. She is a lone albeit devastating terrorist. She makes Zaun appear more dangerous than it is but that can't last forever. Silco has leveraged her attacks into a pressure campaign against Piltover, but a serious response from Piltover (as seen in 2.03 with the strike team corners and very nearly captures her) could reveal just how fragile that threat is.

Basically, Zaun has some champions, arguably a league of legends lol, but it doesn't have an army. It doesn't even have Enforcers of its own. It doesn't have a concerted force of any kind.

The money is running out. As "Sucker" shows us in 2.02, each Chem Baron that gets taken out means less money on the table, and we're down 2 by the beginning of S2 with Silco and Finn, who arguably both fell to internal fighting.

As the Chem Barons say in 2.02, even if they got total unity in Zaun, they're outnumbered.

However, they don't have total unity in Zaun. They can't even get the Chem Barons to agree on what to do on one topic, with Jinx.

Silco basically has to accept the deal with Jayce when he does, while Zaun appears to be at its strongest. Because if he had waited any longer, the fact that they don't have the strength or money to back it up would have become apparent.

Furthermore, once Jayce resigns from the Council, which he was planning to do anyway regardless of Jinx's attack, would mean Zaun would lose its one champion with the political capital to give them independence. The window for Zaun independence is actually extremely narrow.

With Silco's death and Jinx's attack on the Council, then the subsequent eradication of the other Chem Barons, their resources, their money, including Shimmer which was the only thing Zaun really had to match them against Hextech in that arms race, there really isn't a Zaun anymore.

There's no one to negotiate with. No one to hand power to. No force that can govern itself. Zaun is completely fractured with the eradication of the Chem Barons. By taking them out, Cait removed the need for Piltover to negotiate with Zaun. And the reason Piltover chose not to was because of Jinx's rocket and then the attack on the memorial, which was orchestrated by Ambessa.

This is all according to Ambessa's design, by the way. She divides Piltover/Zaun against themselves by capitalizing on Jinx's attack. She leaves both severely weakened to make it easier for her to take over, and Piltover walks right into the trap. They would have fallen to Noxus if not for Mel's love of the city, even if you remove Viktor and Jayce's plotline entirely.

TL;DR Zaun is gone, guys. It's a distant dream. Sevika is the only person with an interest in making it happen anymore and she can't even get the Jinxers to listen to her. All the factions are easily arrested at the rally. Piltover has no reason to negotiate with any of these people. As the lone torchbearer for that cause, it makes sense for Sevika to be on the Council but beyond her, there is literally no one else to give a voice to (since Ekko doesn't appear to have an interest).

At least, until the Noxians turn on them, and then there's an interest in Piltover and the undercity joining forces, but as I referenced at the beginning of this, Piltover has now lost the right to the undercity's help AND lacks the undercity's resources too. Now Noxus has Shimmer instead of Piltover or Zaun, in addition to their sophisticated and expertly trained military force. As Jayce said, they were meant to lose this fight. Arguably, they never had a chance of winning if not for Mel claiming the loyalty of the Noxians in the wake of her mother's death and everything Jayce did to stop Viktor and the Hexcore.

[aventurineswife]

hii! im not sure if youve made smth like this already and i missed it but may i request blade and any character(s) of your choosing with a reader being sent to the ER? they can be there or be away when reader is sent there, whichever works best for you :)

i hope that makes sense 😭 my brain is super slow and the er is so cold im gonna turn into a popsicle i swear- hope you have a good day/night and remember to drink some water! 💫🪷

Fractured Fate

Summary: After being gravely injured in battle, you are rushed to the medical bay, where Blade remains by your side. As the doctors work to save you, Blade reveals a side of himself that is rarely seen—concern, and perhaps something deeper. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Blade acknowledges the weight of his own loneliness and the reason he can't let you die.

Tags: Blade x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Fractured Souls, Healing, Loyalty, Angst, Redemption, Imperfect Love.

Warnings: Graphic Injury Description, Mild Blood, References To Past Trauma, Angst, Emotional Intensity, Vulnerability.

The battlefield was a blur of flashing lights, the sound of blades clashing, and the rush of adrenaline as you fought side by side with Blade. His movements were fluid, almost too fast to follow as his broken sword carved through enemies with eerie precision. His eyes burned with a focused intensity, but there was something else lurking behind them—an emptiness that seemed to echo his fractured soul.

You could feel it in the air. The tension. The sense that Blade was pushing himself further than he had before, as if trying to reach something just beyond his grasp. You glanced at him briefly as you struck down an opponent, but before you could say anything, you heard the unmistakable sound of a blade cutting through flesh—your own.

The pain was instant. A sharp, searing ache in your side. You stumbled, trying to maintain your balance, but the world around you spun. Blood began to stain your clothes, and you struggled to stay conscious.

Blade’s gaze snapped to you in an instant. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a rare vulnerability flickering in them. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Stay with me,” he ordered in a voice that brooked no argument, his tone low and intense. He grabbed your arm with an iron grip, steadying you as you staggered.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed to murmur, but your vision was growing blurry. You could feel the darkness creeping in from the edges, and it took everything you had to keep your eyes open.

“Do not lie to me,” Blade said, his voice sharp. Without a second thought, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you away from the fight. His body felt colder than usual, and you leaned against him, unable to do much else.

The world shifted, and before long, you were in the medical bay. Blade remained by your side, watching as the medical staff worked quickly to stabilize you. The lights overhead felt too bright, and the beeping of the machines grated on your nerves. You tried to fight the darkness threatening to pull you under, but your body refused to obey.

In the midst of it all, Blade stood silent, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, didn’t even blink, as the doctors patched you up. But you could sense the undercurrent of something—concern, maybe even something deeper. It was a crack in the shell he’d so carefully constructed around himself.

Hours passed, and eventually, the noise died down. You awoke in a sterile, white room, the smell of antiseptic hanging in the air. You tried to sit up, but the pain in your side reminded you that moving too quickly wasn’t an option.

“Don’t,” Blade’s voice was soft, almost soothing, but with a sharp edge. He stood at the side of your bed, his arms crossed and his usual stoic demeanor in place. But there was something in the way he watched you—a trace of something more than the cold indifference he typically exuded.

“Blade...” You whispered, your throat dry. He said nothing, merely stepped closer, his red eyes never leaving you.

“Why didn’t you—” you began to ask, but he interrupted, his gaze flickering with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place.

“Because I won’t let you die. Not yet.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the weight of his words. His promise lingered in the air, as fragile and as strong as the blade he carried.

"You could've left me there, but..." you trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"You're not the only one who is broken," Blade said, his voice quieter now. His gaze softened, just for a moment. "If you die... I will be forced to keep walking this endless path. Alone."

You stared at him, processing his words. For all his detached, cold demeanor, Blade's loyalty to his own twisted purpose had always been unmistakable. Yet, in this rare moment, you saw that perhaps, just maybe, there was something else. Something that made his fractured heart beat, even if it was for a fleeting moment.

You reached out, placing your hand over his. His fingers twitched at the touch but didn't pull away.

"Thank you," you murmured, unsure if you were thanking him for saving you, or for staying with you when he so easily could have left.

Blade didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, his broken sword at his side, a symbol of everything he’d sacrificed.

“I’ve seen enough death,” he said quietly, his voice hardening once more. “I won’t lose you.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of what the future held, but for now, you knew one thing for certain—Blade’s fractured path had found something to hold onto, even if it was only you. And perhaps, for the first time in a long while, Blade had found a reason to keep fighting, a reason to stay.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

I am a slut for Hurt/comfort first “I love you” 🥺🫶🏼

Hope you’re having a fantastic day 🥰

Sorry this took FOREVER, but I hope you like it!

(I’ll post on AO3 after I've had some sleep)

----

"You could always come along. Half naked men are relevant to your interests these days." Eddie teased and Buck rolled his eyes.

"There is only one man I'm interested in, and I prefer him completely naked." he grinned at Tommy who leaned over the table to kiss him.

"Likewise."

"Can someone please remind me why I'm friends with you two again?" Eddie complained.

The three of them were sat at Buck's kitchen table, grabbing a bite to eat together before Eddie and Tommy were going to another fight in Vegas.

"I saved your life." Buck reminded him around a bite of food.

"I've saved your life." Eddie shot back.

"Free babysitting."

"Well with Chris still in El Paso, I don't think I'm going to be asking for your services in that department any time soon. If ever again..."

"Chris will come around." Tommy started sincerely, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And I get you free tickets to fights and free helicopter flights to exclusive fights in Vegas and back. Which you could be more grateful for."

"I'm beginning to wonder if that means getting all the details on your sex life is really worth it."

"Hey, you don't have to come. I can always go with Evan and get my buddy to set us up with a nice hotel room on the strip." Tommy said turning to Buck. "The two of us, a king size bed, maybe a jacuzzi... Not leaving the room for an entire weekend..."

"And then you'll complain about about having missed the fight of the century when we get back." Buck reminded him but happily let Tommy kiss him.

"There will be other fights. A weekend in Vegas with you sounds pretty good. We could hit up the casinos. I'm pretty good at poker."

"I beat you the other day." Buck smirked.

"That was intentional." Tommy said with a wink.

"Why would you let him win?" Eddie asked, downing the last of his beer. "Why would you play with him in the first place? Mister over competitive."

"Hey!" Buck protested while Tommy just shrugged.

"I had my reasons."

Eddie narrowed his eyes.

"This is another sex thing, isn't it?" he held up his hands. "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Tommy laughed and finished the last of his food.

"We should get going soon. We need to still drive over to Harbor from here."

Eddie nodded.

"But no more details about your sex life or you can go alone."

"Noted." Tommy said, getting up and putting their dirty dishes in the sink. "Don't bother with those ok? We can do them together tomorrow." he told Buck.

"Sure. You coming back here after then?"

Tommy smiled.

"If you want me to."

Buck stood up and wrapped his arms around Tommy's neck.

"I want you to. I don't care how late it gets, I want you here. And you better wake me up if I'm asleep."

"I'm not making any promises in that department. But I'll promise I'll be there when you wake up. Deal?"

Buck pretended to think it over.

"I guess I can live with that." he joked and the two of them shared another kiss, getting lost in the moment until Eddie loudly cleared his throat.

"Come on Tomás, we have a flight to catch."

Tommy reluctantly stepped out of Buck's embrace.

"The flight is me." he glanced at his watch. "But yeah we should get going." he shrugged on his jacket, grabbed his phone and keys, and with one more quick kiss and a promise to see Buck later, he followed Eddie out the door.

Buck sighed.

As much as he liked the fact that his boyfriend and best friend got on so well, he wouldn't have exactly hated it to spend his night off with said boyfriend instead of watching TV on his own.

He'd only known Tommy for a couple of months but it was getting harder and harder to remember what his life was like without him in it. He didn't particularly want to either.

Just thinking about Tommy made him smile like a teenager with a crush, but lately he was starting to feel like this thing between them was getting more serious. A deeper connection. Not just sex or romantic dates but also being content to just exist in each other's space.

Like spending the night watching the latest movie Tommy insisted he had to watch or trying out a new recipe with Tommy sitting at his kitchen table, keeping him company and being his guinea pig.

It felt a lot like love.

He was pretty sure Tommy felt the same, even if they hadn't actually said it yet.

He really wanted to though, but he was still waiting for that perfect moment. Maybe he'd tell him when they woke up together in the morning.

He smiled to himself as he scrolled through his DVR to find the documentary on bees he'd recorded earlier that week and got comfortable on the sofa as he hit play.

The documentary was interesting enough but still his mind kept wandering. He tried to remember the names of the guys fighting so he could check the score, when his phone suddenly rang in his hand.

He frowned at the screen, not recognising the number. He debated letting it go to voicemail but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Evan Buckley?"

"Yes, this is Evan Buckley... Who is this?"

"My name is Laura Greenwood, I'm a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre, and I'm calling you on behalf of Edmundo Diaz. I have you listed as his emergency contact, is that correct?"

"Yes, yes that is correct. What's going on? Is Eddie in hospital?"

"Mister Diaz has just been brought in following a car accident."

"A what?! Is he ok?"

"His injuries are non life threatening as far as I've been told." the nurse told him in a practised calm voice. "Are you able to come to the hospital?"

"Uh yes, yes I'm on my way." Buck told her, rushing around his loft to grab his stuff and put his shoes on. "Wait... Was there anyone else brought in with him? Is there a Thomas Kinard with him? Was he admitted too?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that sir. When you get here you can go straight to the ER and they'll take you to see mister Diaz. Perhaps he will be able to tell you more about any other passengers involved in the accident."

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Eddie was in a car accident... but he'd been in a car with Tommy. They'd taken his truck. So what did that mean for Tommy? Had someone crashed into them? Was Tommy alright? Was he even still alive?

He all but threw his Jeep in the first available parking space he came across, and only just remembered to take the keys out of the ignition and lock it.

The hospital was outside the 118's jurisdiction, so he wasn't as familiar with it as some of the others in the city, but he found the ER with ease after making himself follow the signs.

"But was there a Thomas Kinard brought in too?" he tried with the nurse who was taking him to see Eddie.

"Are you next of kin?"

"He's my boyfriend."

The nurse nodded.

"And are you his emergency contact as well? Or listed as next of kin anywhere?"

"I... I'm... No... We've only been together a couple of months... we haven't had that conversation yet."

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and Buck knew what she was about to say.

"I'm very sorry, but I can't give you any information if you're not next of kin."

"Right... yeah... I understand..."

"If you know who his emergency contact is, they can update you... or tell us it's ok to tell you."

"C-can... I know you're not allowed to give me any details but... is he here? Is he alive?" Buck tried. "Please. I just need to know he's alive."

The nurse looked at him for a minute, weighing her options, then started typing on a tablet.

"Kinard? K-I-N-A-R-D?"

"That's right."

"He's here." She confirmed. "He's alive. They're working on him. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry." She started walking again, and Buck had to jog a few steps to catch up with her when his brain had managed to process the information she'd given him.

The nurse pulled open a curtain around a bed and Eddie looked up from the magazine he was flicking through. He looked a little banged up but mostly in one piece.

"Mister Diaz, there's someone here to see you." she stepped aside and Buck made himself walk up to the bed and greet his best friend.

"What happened?" he asked after the nurse had left them to it.

"We got t-boned by some drunk idiot in an expensive sports car." Eddie told him. "Tommy got the worst of it. Have you seen him yet? I figured he'd be higher on your list of priorities."

Buck bit his lip. He was happy to see his best friend was ok, but he couldn't help but worry about his boyfriend.

"They won't let me see him. I'm not family, I'm not his emergency contact, I'm nothing. They called me because of you... All that nurse told me is that he's alive."

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look.

"Do you know who his emergency contact is? Does he have family in LA? Siblings?"

"He was born in LA. His dad still lives in the house he grew up in... But they hate each other."

"Ok so not his dad then."

Buck shook his head.

"He also has a brother but I don't even know his name." he rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't even know the name of my boyfriend's brother." he said dejected. "What if he dies? I don't know his family, I've only met a few of his work friends at Harbor, and I don't know any of his friends outside of work. Nobody would even let me know when the funeral is. I don't even know if he would want a funeral. I barely know my own boyfriend!"

He was spiralling and well on his way to a panic attack.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Eddie did his best to snap him out of it by squeezing his shoulder and making him look at him. "Tommy is not going to die ok? He's the one that called 911 after the accident. He had a head wound and they had to cut him out of the car because his leg got pinned. But he was bitching about his truck getting ruined and how it would take him ages to get it back in working order so he was definitely conscious when they got him out. "

Buck made himself take a few deep breaths to compose himself. Tommy worrying about his car was good. That meant he was awake and conscious enough to know what was happening.

"What kind of head wound? Was it bad?"

"Not as bad as it could have been." Eddie told him after a beat and Buck knew he was choosing his words carefully so he wouldn't freak him out. A move straight from the LAFD handbook.

"What does that even mean? There was no brain matter on the airbag?"

Eddie rolled his eyes at his friend's dramatics.

"The idiot hit Tommy's side pretty hard. Almost flipped us over. We got knocked around the car pretty bad and he hit his head on... something. I don't know, it all happened really fast."

Buck nodded and just about managed to stop himself from shaking Eddie to give him more details.

"I think I passed out for a few minutes... because the next thing I remember is Tommy asking for my phone, well... more like demanding, because he couldn't find his." Eddie continued, scrunching up his face trying to remember more details. "I think he used my phone to call 911... but I don't know what happened to it." He looked around. "They haven't given me my stuff yet."

"I'll go find someone..." Buck moved to stand up but Eddie stopped him.

"The phone can wait. We need to figure out what we're going to do about Tommy."

"What do you mean what we're going to do about Tommy? I'm not family, they won't let me see him."

"I know... but maybe we can figure out a way around that. That nurse from before likes me... maybe if I flirt with her a little she'll tell me what room he's in? Or how he's doing?"

"Just how hard did you hit your head in the crash? I think you have a concussion. That's never going to work."

"Hey, I'm charming and sexy! I'm hot!"

"I've seen you puking up your guts after bad sushi and hungover and praying in Spanish on my bathroom floor after you decided to mix beer and tequila. You are neither charming or sexy."

"Well you try it then! Or maybe one of the male nurses will be easier to persuade."

"I'm not going to flirt with a guy to get info on my boyfriend!" Buck said exasperated and stood up. "I'm just going to calmly talk to the nurses again and explain the situation... maybe they can tell me who his emergency contact is. Maybe it's his brother and I can introduce myself and he can tell me how Tommy is doing."

Eddie mumbled something under his breath but Buck ignored him and went in search for someone who could tell him more about Tommy.

He was almost at the nurses station when he heard a familiar name.

"I'm here for Thomas Kinard. I got a call he was in an accident."

"Are you family?"

"I might as well be." Buck had a clear view of the man now but he didn't recognise him. "I'm his emergency contact. You called me."

"Name?"

"Sal Deluca. Salvatore."

The nurse typed something on her computer.

"He was in a car accident. Suspected fractured pelvis, head laceration, suspected broken ribs and open tibia fracture, as well as suspected ruptured spleen. He's in surgery now." She told the man. "You can take a seat here and someone will come update you when they can."

The man looked like he wanted to argue with the nurse but apparently decided it wasn't worth it and just sat down on a nearby chair and took his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, it's me." he paused to listen. "No I haven't seen him yet. He's in surgery. Pretty banged up. He's gonna need help when he gets out. We can't let him go back to his place on his own." Another pause. "I don't know, Gina." A slight irritation in his voice. "We'll figure it out when the time comes." another pause and a sigh. "Yeah. I'll call you when I know more. Yeah. Love you too. Bye."

Buck watched him put his phone away and sit back in the chair. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and walked up to the man.

"Hi... uhm... you don't know me but...-"

"Look, man, let me stop you there. If you're the one that hit my buddy and want to clear your conscience now or something, don't bother, I'm not interested. He'll probably forgive you when he's awake, because he's an idiot like that, but don't come to me with that shit."

"What? No. Tha-that's not... I'm Evan Buckley. Tommy is my boyfriend."

The man sat up.

"You're Evan?"

"Yes... Has Tommy mentioned me?"

"Yeah. Hasn't stopped talking about you for the past few months. I feel like I know you better than my own wife by now."

"Oh... I uh... h-he hasn't told me a-about you..." Buck stammered.

"Of course not." The man rolled his eyes. "We've been friends for over 20 years, he's my both daughters' godfather, but he won't tell his new boyfriend about me." he continued sarcastically. "I guess he just wanted to make sure you're not an asshole like the last idiot he dated. Andrew really fucked him up."

"Y-yeah..." Buck agreed, not wanting to let on he didn't have a clue who Andrew was.

The man stood up and offered Buck his hand.

"I'm Sal. Were you in there with him?"

"No, my best friend was. They were going to Vegas to watch a fight." Buck explained and filled him in on the details.

Sal turned out to be easy enough to talk to once he'd decided Buck was alright, and the two of them talked about Tommy, the job, the 118, and the grudge Sal still held against Bobby.

After some time, a tired looking doctor came to update them on Tommy's condition and a nurse took them up to the floor so they could see him.

"One visitor at a time." she warned them.

"You go first." Buck told Sal who shook his head and pushed him towards the door.

"He's not going to want to see me, trust me. You go sit with him, I'll go update my wife."

Buck wanted to protest but Sal was already walking away and tapping his phone screen. He looked through the little window in the door and saw Tommy, looking way too small and frail for a man his size.

His leg was in a cast and there were various bandages around his head and body. He glanced at the monitor beside the bed and watched the lines move with Tommy's heartbeat before gently opening the door and going in.

He grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and sat down as close to the bed he could get. He watched Tommy's chest rise and fall with each breath and carefully took his hand in his.

"Hey... You scared the shit out of me..." he said softly. "I got the call about Eddie and I jumped in my car right away... And Eddie's fine, he'll be alright... But they wouldn't tell me anything about you. I didn't even know if you were alive." He brought Tommy's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. "When you get out of here, we need to talk." he said and winced at how it sounded. "Not... not like that. I'm not breaking up with you. I just... our jobs are dangerous you know. And next time you get injured on the job... or just... anything happens to you... I want to know what happened. I want to be able to come see you without Eddie thinking he can flirt with a nurse and convince her to let me." He laughed a little. "You know that would never have worked."

The next few hours went by in a blur. Tommy woke up a few times but was way too out of it to have anything resembling a conversation, Sal dipped in and out of the room, and even Eddie had come by to check on Tommy.

The hours turned into days, and the days turned into a week. Tommy's condition had improved enough for him to be moved onto a regular ward and for the dose of the heavy painkillers to be lowered so he was awake for longer periods of time and more aware of what was happening around him.

And also getting more and more annoyed by the fact he couldn't move around as freely as he'd like, practically begging the nurses to get him a pair of crutches even if he was nowhere near well enough for that.

"Hey there sleeping beauty, welcome back to the land of the living. If you wanted to see me that badly, you could have just picked up the phone, you know? You didn't have to crash your car." Sal joked when he walked back into Tommy's room after updating his wife and checking in at work on day 8.

"You know me, always had a flair for the dramatic." Tommy replied and gave him a tired smile. "How are the girls? Evan said you went to call Gina."

"They're fine. Torey wants to come see her uncle T but we talked her down to facetime when you're feeling better."

"Yeah... when these bruises clear up... and the stitches come out. Or can be covered up somehow. I don't want to scare her." Tommy said, gesturing to his head. He was looking a whole lot better than when he'd first been brought in but the bruises were only just starting to fade.

"She's seen you first thing in the morning before you've had your coffee, she can handle a couple of bruises."

Buck sat back and let the two of them talk. He'd gotten to know Sal a little over the past week or so and he liked the guy. Even if he was still kind of intimidated by him.

But it was clear he cared about Tommy and Buck was happy Tommy had a best friend like him. Someone who would drop everything to be there for him. Someone who would always have his back.

Though it was also frustrating that between Sal, the hospital staff, Tommy's crew from Harbor, and various members of the 118, Buck had barely had a moment alone with him.

And he didn't need an audience for what he wanted to tell him.

"I promised Torey I'd take her up to see the lights."

"So save it for her next birthday." Sal argued and Buck realised he'd zoned out and didn't have a clue what they were talking about. "Or wait until she turns 21 and take her to Vegas."

"Oh sure. 'happy birthday sweetheart, you'll get your present in 11 years' I'm sure she'll understand." Tommy said sarcastically and Sal laughed.

"You know she'll remember. And then Bella will want to go too when she turns 21. So you better make sure you get back in that chopper so you can take my girls to Vegas when they're old enough."

Tommy groaned.

"When Isabella is 21, I'll be..." he shook his head. "I don't want to think about that."

Sal sat back in his chair.

"They grow up way too fast." he settled on. "Feels like only yesterday that she couldn't even wrap her little hand all the way around my finger, and now she's talking about inviting boys to her birthday party."

Buck did his best to focus on the conversation, even if he didn't know Sal's family, but he kept zoning out and his eyelids were getting heavy. He hadn't exactly had a good night's sleep at Tommy's bedside, and now the worst seemed to be behind them, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him.

"Evan." someone squeezed his hand. "Evan, hey, wake up."

"Wha-what?" he blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up straighter. "I'm here, I'm awake. I'm here. Are you ok?" he searched Tommy's face for any sign of discomfort or even pain."

"I'm ok. But you just fell asleep sitting up. Why don't you go home to get some rest. in an actual bed."

Buck frowned.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm fine. I just... closed my eyes for a second. I'm fine now, I promise."

"You sound like my daughter when she doesn't want to go to bed." Sal cut in. "She's 8. And I usually pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed anyway. So don't try me, Buckley."

Tommy laughed a little but then turned serious.

"Evan, you're exhausted. Why don't you call Howie to take you home. Just for a couple of hours." he pleaded. "I've got Sal here to keep me company, and all these wires stuck to me so they can make sure I'm alright... I'm ok now, I promise. It's your turn to rest now."

"I'm fine." Buck insisted. "I'll get a coffee from the machine later. I'm fine."

"Evan..."

"Tommy, I love you, but please stop trying to get me to leave. I'm not leaving until you are." Buck told him, and brushed a kiss over Tommy's knuckles to emphasise his point.

"Ev... I... You... Did you... mean... that...?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"Not that... the... other thing..."

"The other thing?" Buck mumbled and tried to replay the last part of their conversation in his mind. Tommy, I love you. "Oh... t-that... I..."

"It's ok. You don't have to explain. You're exhausted, I get it. It's fine." Tommy rambled.

"No, I... I... did.. do... mean it. I just... didn't... realise?"

"I'm going to... go buy some cigarettes." Sal said and got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"You don't smoke." Tommy pointed out.

"I'll start." Sal replied and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two men alone.

"Are you cold? Do you want me to fluff up your pillow? Do you want some water? Do you want me to go so you can sleep?" Buck rambled, fussing with Tommy's blanket.

"Evan... tell me... did you mean it? It's fine if you didn't. I can handle it. Just tell me. It's alright. We're just having fun, right? You didn't sign up for all of this. It's fine. You can just go. I'll call you when I'm better. Maybe we can go to that club you found online the other day. I mean, it's gonna be a while before I can dance again but... -"

"Tommy!" Buck interrupted. "Shut up. Please." he carefully sat down on the bed next to Tommy's hip and put his hand on his uninjured leg. "I did mean it. I just... didn't mean to just blurt it out like that. I wanted to make it romantic. Maybe a candlelit meal at home. Some music playing in the background, maybe a nice glass of wine... and then I'd take your hand..." he paused to do just that. "And I'd look into your eyes. And I'd tell you that these past few months have been amazing, That you have been amazing. That you make me happier than I ever thought I could be." he carefully leaned in to press a kiss to Tommy's lips. "And then I'd tell you I love you. I love you so much. And then in a perfect world, you'd say it back and we'd have the best night of our lives."

Tommy smiled.

"That sounds amazing. And I love you too."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's kind of scary... I've never felt this way about anyone before... and definitely not this quickly... but yeah, yes I do love you Evan."

Buck leaned in for another kiss.

"I really wish we could do more right now. I wish I could hold you." he gently ran his hand up and down Tommy's good arm.

"I know... Me too."

"When you get out of here, I'm going to cook for you. All of your favourite foods. I even found a recipe for spumoni online and I'm going to make it for you." Buck promised. "It probably won't be as good as your grandma's, though, but I’ll settle for second place." he joked.

"I'm sure I'll love it. Because I love you."

"I love you too." Buck replied. "And I could really get used to hearing you say that."

"Good thing I'm planning on saying it a lot then."

[novaursa]

Legacy (sisters)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the north and the south

- Next part: drawing the lines

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

Tywin Lannister and Jon Snow sat opposite each other at the long table in the Great Hall of Dragonstone. A week of heated discussions and negotiations had brought them here, to a moment where a tentative agreement seemed within reach. The hall’s stone walls absorbed the low hum of voices as you sat at Tywin’s right hand, your presence a quiet but steadying force in the midst of it all. Davos Seaworth stood behind Jon, his weathered face calm but watchful.

The Painted Table between them was scattered with maps, letters, and reports, each detailing threats and opportunities. Tywin’s eyes fixed on Jon, who met his gaze with equal intensity.

“You’ve made your demands clear,” Tywin said, his tone measured. “Justice for your family, recognition of the North’s independence, and preparation for the so-called Long Night. You’ll find I am not a man who agrees lightly to terms that serve others more than myself.”

Jon leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve seen the signs. Your wife has told you of what’s coming, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The dead are marching beyond the Wall, and if we don’t prepare, it won’t matter who sits on the Iron Throne or which house rules the North. The living will fall.”

Tywin’s expression remained inscrutable. “You speak of an enemy that has not yet crossed into the realm. Meanwhile, a very real threat sails toward us from Essos. Daenerys Targaryen, has aligned herself with the Ironborn—a fractured fleet, perhaps, but still formidable. She comes with the Dothraki, a horde of savages, and the Unsullied, disciplined but foreign. She believes her claim to the throne outweighs that of my grandson, King Tommen, or indeed, my own children.”

Your breath caught at Tywin’s words, but you said nothing, your mind reeling with the weight of the situation. Jon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he absorbed Tywin’s dismissal of the Northern threat.

“You’d place her above your wife?” Jon asked sharply. “Above the mother of your sons?”

Tywin’s gaze flicked to you briefly, his expression unreadable. “Do not presume to lecture me on loyalty or duty, boy. My wife is of Valyrian blood, the mother of my heirs. Her claim to the throne is stronger than her sister’s, but this does not negate the danger Daenerys poses. She comes as a foreign invader, not as a queen to unite Westeros.”

“She comes with dragons,” Jon countered. “And you’ve seen what dragons can do.”

At this, Tywin leaned back in his chair, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And I also know how to harness that power, as you’ve seen here on Dragonstone. Do not mistake me for a fool, Snow. I’ve considered every possibility, and while your warnings of the dead may hold some truth, they are not my immediate concern.”

You placed a hand gently on Tywin’s arm, your voice calm but firm. “Jon isn’t asking you to ignore Daenerys. He’s asking you to consider the larger picture. If we’re divided, we’ll fall—to her, to the dead, to any threat that comes our way. The North needs the South, and the South needs the North. We can’t afford to be enemies.”

Tywin’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, though his tone remained cold. “Unity is a fine ideal, but it must be built on terms that serve both sides. Snow demands recognition of the North’s independence—what assurances do I have that he won’t sever ties entirely when it suits him?”

Jon’s eyes flashed with determination. “You have my word. The North will fight alongside the South against whatever comes. We’ll defend this realm, and we’ll remember who stood with us. But if you refuse to acknowledge the North’s sovereignty, you’ll leave us no choice but to stand alone.”

Tywin’s mind worked quickly. After a moment, he spoke, his tone clipped and decisive. “Very well. The North will remain autonomous in its governance, but it will not sever its ties to the Iron Throne. You will recognize Tommen as king, and you will not see again to crown yourself or any other Stark.”

Jon hesitated, glancing at you before nodding slowly. “Agreed.”

Tywin continued, his gaze hard. “In return, you will provide men and resources to defend the realm against Daenerys’s invasion. If your warnings of the dead prove true, you will lead the North’s forces in that fight as well.”

Jon’s voice was steady as he replied. “The North will do its part. But know this—if you focus all your attention on Daenerys and ignore the threat beyond the Wall, you’ll lose more than this war. You’ll lose everything.”

Tywin said nothing for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the Painted Table. Finally, he stood, signaling the end of the discussion. “Then we have an accord. Prepare your men, Snow. The battles ahead will test us all.”

Jon rose as well, his expression grim but resolute. “And the living will need every advantage.”

As Tywin left the room, you stayed behind with Jon. His shoulders were tense, his face etched with frustration. “He doesn’t understand,” Jon said quietly. “Not yet.”

“He will,” you replied, your voice soft but confident. “Tywin Lannister is not a man who ignores proof. He’ll see the truth when the time comes.”

Jon nodded, though his doubt was evident. “Let’s just hope it’s not too late.” The alliance between the North and South was fragile, but it was a start. And in a world on the brink of chaos, even the smallest hope could spark a flame.

The deck of the flagship swayed gently beneath Daenerys Targaryen as the winds carried the scent of salt and promise across the Narrow Sea. The rhythmic crash of waves against the hull provided a steady backdrop to the flurry of activity as her Unsullied soldiers, Dothraki, and sailors moved purposefully to prepare for their departure. Sails bearing the sigil of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen were being unfurled, their black and crimson hues stark against the endless expanse of blue.

Daenerys stood at the ship’s prow, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she gazed toward the horizon. Her dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, circled overhead, their shadows passing over the fleet below. Their roars echoed across the sea, a reminder of her power—a power she intended to unleash upon Westeros.

Behind her, Tyrion Lannister approached, his footsteps light but deliberate. He came to a stop beside her, his gaze following hers toward the unseen shores of Westeros. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice tinged with caution.

“You know this won’t be the welcoming parade you might imagine,” he said, his tone diplomatic but firm.

Daenerys turned to him, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. “And why is that, Lord Tyrion? Westeros has suffered under unworthy rulers for years. They will welcome the rightful queen.”

Tyrion tilted his head, his expression both patient and resigned. “You forget, Your Grace, that Westeros has already had its fill of dragons. Your sister’s dragon, Viserion, has become a familiar sight. By all reports, the realm has grown accustomed to her presence, and to her rule alongside Tywin Lannister.”

Daenerys frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Viserion may be hers now, but that dragon was once mine. And my sister will see that this is our chance—our chance to bring justice to our family and take back the throne that was stolen from us.”

Tyrion’s brow arched slightly, his skepticism clear. “Justice is a noble goal, but Westeros doesn’t see you as a liberator. Not yet. You’re arriving with a Dothraki horde and an army of Unsullied. To the lords and ladies of Westeros, you’ll appear as a foreign invader, not a rightful queen.”

Daenerys’s eyes flashed with determination. “Then I will show them who I am. I will free them from their chains, just as I did in Meereen and Astapor.”

“And you’ll burn half the realm in the process,” Tyrion said bluntly, earning a sharp glare from Daenerys. He sighed, stepping closer to the rail. “Your Grace, I am not doubting your abilities or your claim. But the noble houses of Westeros are fickle creatures. They won’t bow simply because you have dragons. They’ll see you as a threat to their power, especially if you come with foreign armies at your back.”

Daenerys’s gaze softened slightly as she studied Tyrion. “And what do you suggest, Hand of the Queen? That I abandon my armies and fly to Dragonstone alone?”

Tyrion shook his head. “No. I suggest you tread carefully. Your sister is a key figure in this. By all accounts, she is loved by the people, respected by the lords. If you can convince her to stand with you, to lend you her voice, it could change everything.”

Daenerys’s expression turned thoughtful as she looked out at the sea once more. “She will listen to me,” she said with quiet conviction. “She understands what was taken from our family. She knows the pain of betrayal, of loss. Together, we can restore the Targaryen name to its rightful place.”

Tyrion studied her for a moment before speaking, his tone laced with both hope and caution. “I hope you’re right. But don’t underestimate her ties to Tywin Lannister. Whatever her reasons for marrying him, she’s a part of his house now. And Tywin doesn’t let go of his allies—or his assets—easily.”

Daenerys’s gaze hardened. “She’s not an asset. She’s my sister. And I won’t fight her. If she stands with me, there will be no need for war.”

Tyrion exhaled softly, his gaze drifting to the dragons overhead. “Let’s hope she sees it that way. Because if she doesn’t… this could be the bloodiest campaign Westeros has ever seen.”

Daenerys turned to him, her voice steely. “I will take back the Iron Throne, Tyrion. With or without her. But I would rather have her by my side.”

Tyrion nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “Then let’s make sure she knows that when you arrive.”

The moon hung low over the Narrow Sea, its pale light reflecting off the gentle waves as the fleet sailed steadily toward Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen sat alone in her cabin, the sound of Drogon and Rhaegal’s distant roars echoing faintly through the night. A single candle flickered on the small table before her, its light illuminating the old and weathered maps spread across its surface.

Her fingers traced the outlines of Westeros, stopping at Dragonstone, then moving north toward the Eyrie, and finally to Winterfell. Her mind, however, was far from strategies and conquest. It wandered instead to the stories her brother Viserys had told her so many years ago.

Viserys had rarely spoken of their family with affection. His words were usually cruel, laden with bitterness for what they had lost. But when he spoke of their eldest sister—the sister Daenerys had never met—there had been a rare softness in his tone, an almost desperate longing that had always struck Daenerys as unusual.

She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, and the memories came unbidden.

“She was beautiful,” Viserys had said one night as they sat by the fire, huddled together in a dilapidated inn somewhere in the Free Cities. His voice was quieter than usual, almost reverent. “Hair like yours. Violet eyes. Everyone said she looked like Mother.”

Daenerys, barely seven at the time, had tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What was her name again?”

“Y/N,” Viserys replied, his lips curving faintly. “The Flame of House Targaryen, they called her. Father’s favorite child… until she wasn’t.”

Daenerys frowned, her small hands tugging at the hem of her tunic. “Why wasn’t she his favorite anymore?”

Viserys’s expression darkened, the fleeting warmth in his gaze replaced by a familiar bitterness. “Because Father went mad, that’s why. He saw enemies everywhere—even in her. She was sent away before Robert’s rebellion could touch her. Willem said it was to protect her, but I think it was for something else.”

“Where did she go?” Daenerys asked, her voice small.

“To the North,” Viserys answered, his tone heavy with disdain. “To Winterfell, of all places. They struck some deal with the Starks. She was meant to be a ward, but it was more like a hostage. The Starks shielded her from Robert’s wrath after the rebellion ended.”

Daenerys’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t they love her?”

Viserys scoffed. “The Starks? Love a Targaryen? Don’t be foolish, Daenerys. They kept her safe because it suited them. But she… she was different. She thrived there, somehow. Made herself at home among wolves.”

His words hung in the air, and Daenerys had hesitated before asking, “Did you miss her?”

Viserys’s eyes had flashed with something unreadable—pride, sorrow, perhaps even guilt. “Of course, I missed her. She was my sister. Our sister. She held me once, you know. When I was very little. I barely remember it, but… it’s one of the only good memories I have of Father’s court.”

His voice had grown softer, his gaze distant as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “She sang to me. A Valyrian lullaby. I don’t remember the words, only the sound of her voice. It was… soft. Gentle. Like Mother’s.”

Daenerys had been quiet, unsure of what to say. It was rare for Viserys to speak so vulnerably, and she hadn’t wanted to break the fragile moment.

“Do you think she would have loved me?” she had asked after a long silence.

Viserys’s expression had softened, and he had reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “She would have adored you,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with longing. “She would have fought for you, protected you. She was strong like that.”

The memory faded, and Daenerys opened her eyes, her chest tight with emotion. She stared at the map before her, her fingers tracing the path to Dragonstone once more.

Viserys had clung to those faint memories of their sister, holding onto them like a drowning man clutching driftwood. He had seen her as a symbol of what their family could have been, what it should have been. And now, Daenerys would finally meet her—this sister who had lived through the rebellion, who had found strength among wolves, who had become a mother and a queen in her own right.

But would she stand with her?

Daenerys’s gaze hardened, her resolve solidifying. She would remind her sister of their shared blood, of their shared loss. Together, they would reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Still, a whisper of doubt lingered in her mind, a quiet voice echoing Tyrion’s warnings. What if her sister saw things differently? What if she had truly become a Lannister in more than name?

Daenerys shook the thought away, her hand clenching into a fist. “She will stand with me,” she said aloud, as though speaking the words would make them true. “She must.”

The distant roar of her dragons was her only answer as the ship continued its journey toward destiny. The past was a weight she carried, but the future was a fire she intended to ignite.

The flagship of Daenerys Targaryen’s fleet cut gracefully through the calm waters surrounding Dragonstone, the rhythmic crash of waves against its hull echoing faintly over the expanse. Overhead, Drogon and Rhaegal soared majestically, their vast wings slicing through the air with powerful strokes. Their roars resonated across the sea, a declaration of their presence and their queen’s arrival.

Daenerys stood at the prow, her hair billowing in the wind, her eyes fixed on the rocky shore of Dragonstone. The castle loomed in the distance, its jagged towers like dark sentinels against the cloudy sky. Yet her gaze was drawn to the figure perched atop one of the cliffs near the shore—a massive cream-and-gold dragon with scales that gleamed like molten gold under the overcast light.

Viserion.

Daenerys’s breath caught as she beheld the dragon she once thought lost to her. But something was different. The she-dragon’s body was clad in intricate armor, the likes of which Daenerys had never seen before. The Lannister colors of crimson and gold adorned the plates, which were meticulously crafted to fit the dragon’s form.

The armor’s design was a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship. Interlocking plates of burnished steel and gold covered Viserion’s neck and shoulders, the joints flexible enough to allow full range of motion while providing impenetrable protection. Her chest and underbelly were shielded by overlapping scales of reinforced metal, forged to mimic the natural texture of her hide. Along her spine, a row of serrated ridges glinted menacingly, each tip fashioned into sharp points, discouraging any would-be attackers from climbing her back.

The armor extended down her legs, ending in polished steel greaves that encased her talons. The claws themselves were tipped with blackened steel, honed to razor-sharp perfection. Even her tail was armored, with segmented plates running along its length, ending in a deadly spike that could skewer any opponent foolish enough to get too close. The entire ensemble was both practical and imposing, a testament to Tywin Lannister’s meticulous attention to detail and strategic foresight.

Daenerys’s heart sank as she noticed the dragon’s posture. Viserion was not relaxed, nor was she welcoming. Her wings were partially unfurled, the tips trembling with agitation. Her tail lashed against the rocks, sending small pebbles scattering, and her golden eyes were fixed on the approaching ship with a look that could only be described as suspicious. The low, guttural growl that emanated from her throat sent shivers down the spines of everyone aboard.

“She doesn’t look happy to see us,” Missandei observed quietly, her gaze fixed on the armored dragon.

Tyrion, standing beside her, gave a dry chuckle. “No, she doesn’t. But then again, family reunions are rarely pleasant—especially this one.” His eyes scanned the delegation waiting on the shore, his tone turning sardonic. “And speaking of awkward reunions… look who’s decided to personally welcome us.”

Daenerys followed his gaze and spotted Tywin Lannister, unmistakable in his own crimson-and-gold armor, standing at the head of a Lannister delegation. His posture was rigid, his presence commanding even from a distance. His green eyes were fixed on the approaching ship, and though his expression betrayed nothing, there was an air of readiness about him, as if he anticipated a storm.

Beside Tywin stood Jaime Lannister. Behind them, a line of armored soldiers stood at attention, their faces impassive but their weapons ready. The Lannister lion banners fluttered in the wind, a reminder of the power and wealth that Tywin wielded.

Missandei frowned, her voice low. “They come prepared for a fight.”

Tyrion shrugged, though his eyes never left his father. “That’s Tywin for you. Always calculating, always cautious. He doesn’t trust anyone—not even his own blood.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her hands gripping the rail as she watched the scene unfold. “He doesn’t need to trust me,” she said firmly. “He needs to listen.”

Tyrion glanced at her, his expression skeptical. “He’s not exactly known for his willingness to listen. And you’re arriving with dragons and a fleet full of foreign armies. To him, you’re the embodiment of every threat he’s ever prepared for.”

Daenerys’s gaze remained fixed on Viserion, her voice soft but resolute. “Viserion will remember me. She’ll know I’m her queen.”

Tyrion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I hope you’re right. Because if she doesn’t…” He gestured to the armored dragon. “I don’t think she’s wearing that armor just for show.”

Drogon and Rhaegal let out simultaneous roars, their massive forms circling overhead as they took note of Viserion. But the she-dragon was unmoved. Instead, her growls deepened, and her tail lashed with greater force, sending a clear warning. She lowered her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as she tracked the approaching ship.

“She’s agitated,” Missandei murmured, her concern evident. “She doesn’t recognize Drogon or Rhaegal as kin anymore.”

Tyrion sighed, his voice laced with dry humor. “Welcome to Westeros, Your Grace. Home of suspicion, hostility, and deeply complicated family dynamics.”

Daenerys ignored him, her focus entirely on Viserion. Her heart ached at the sight of the dragon, once hers, now clad in the colors of a family that had brought so much pain to her house. But she would not falter. She would remind the dragon—and her sister—of who she was and what they shared.

The ship slowed as it neared the shore, the waves lapping gently against the hull. The Lannister delegation stood their ground, unmoving, their presence a wall of unspoken defiance.

Daenerys’s expression hardened, her resolve burning brighter than ever. This was her moment. The pieces were in place, and now the game would begin.

The flagship docked, the gangplank lowered with a creak. But before Daenerys stepped off, she allowed herself one final glance at Viserion. The dragon’s growl rumbled through the air, low and menacing, and Daenerys knew without a doubt—this was going to be the most dangerous negotiation of her life.

The gangplank creaked underfoot as Daenerys Targaryen descended onto the rocky shores of Dragonstone, her boots striking the ground with deliberate force. Behind her, Missandei, Tyrion Lannister, and a small contingent of her loyal Unsullied followed. The banners of House Targaryen snapped in the sea breeze, though they paled in the presence of the Lannister lion banners adorning the walls of her ancestral home.

The delegation waiting to greet them was as imposing as it was calculated. At the forefront stood Tywin Lannister, clad in polished armor, his keen eyes assessing her every move with an air of cool authority. Beside him was Jaime Lannister, his gilded hand glinting in the sunlight, his expression unreadable but no less intimidating. Around them, rows of Lannister soldiers stood at attention, their faces blank but their weapons gleaming.

Missandei stepped forward, her voice steady and formal. “You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains.”

The titles echoed across the rocky beach, but Tywin’s expression didn’t change. He remained silent, his eyes fixed on Daenerys as though she were merely another piece in a game he had already mastered.

Tyrion, ever the contrast to his father, stepped forward with a smirk that barely masked his animosity. “Father,” he said, his tone light but edged with sarcasm, “I must say, your hospitality never ceases to amaze. A Lannister welcoming another Targaryen to her own home—it’s almost poetic.”

Tywin’s eyes flicked to Tyrion, his voice low and measured. “Spare me your wit, Tyrion. You are here as a bystander, nothing more.”

Daenerys took a step closer, her eyes blazing as they shifted between Tywin and Jaime. The sight of the two men—one who had orchestrated her family’s downfall, the other who had murdered her father—stirred a fire within her that was hard to suppress. “You,” she said, her voice laced with venom as her gaze locked on Tywin. “The man who betrayed my house, my father. The man who shattered the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin met her glare with an unsettling calm, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your father shattered his own dynasty long before I played my part, girl. And as for betrayal—loyalty to a mad king is not a virtue.”

Daenerys’s fists clenched at her sides, but before she could retort, Tyrion stepped between them, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Now, now,” he said, his tone light but insistent. “Let’s not turn this into a battlefield. After all, we’re all connected now, aren’t we? By blood, by bonds. My dear aunt,” he said, gesturing to Daenerys, “and my dear father, united through the jewel of this dynasty: Lady Y/N and her sons.”

Tywin’s expression hardened, though his composure never faltered. “Spare me your theatrics, Tyrion. This is no family reunion.”

Daenerys’s eyes flashed, and she took another step forward, her voice unwavering. “I did not come here to bandy words with a man who has brought ruin to my family. I came to speak with my sister.”

Tywin’s gaze bore into her, his tone as cutting as steel. “Your sister will see you when it is appropriate. Until then, you and your entourage will be escorted inside under heavy guard.”

Daenerys stiffened, her pride bristling at the command. “This is my ancestral home. I will not be treated as a prisoner.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly, the closest thing to a smile he would allow. “You will be treated with the caution befitting your arrival. You come as a foreign invader, with dragons and armies at your back. If you expected open arms, you have miscalculated.”

Tyrion stepped in again, his voice tinged with urgency. “Perhaps we could all take a moment to remember the bigger picture here. The realm is on the brink of collapse—dragons, wars, winters, and all that. Maybe we shouldn’t start this family meeting with threats.”

Jaime’s voice broke through for the first time, calm but carrying a hint of curiosity. “It’s not every day we see a girl disembark with such confidence. I’d almost forgotten Targaryens had a flair for dramatics, Y/N rarely uses it.”

Daenerys’s glare shifted to Jaime. “And it’s not every day I stand before the man that murdered my father.”

Jaime’s face tightened, but he said nothing. Tywin, however, stepped forward, his presence commanding as he addressed Daenerys directly. “If you wish to speak with your sister, you will do so under my terms. Disregard that, and you will not step inside this keep.”

Daenerys’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded curtly. “Then lead the way.”

Tywin motioned to the soldiers, who formed a protective line around Daenerys and her delegation. Tyrion lingered by her side, his expression thoughtful. “This is off to a fine start,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from Daenerys.

As they moved toward the castle, Daenerys cast one final glance over her shoulder at Viserion, who watched from her perch with a low growl, her armor glinting in the light. But Daenerys would not back down. Not now. Not ever.

The Great Hall of Dragonstone was bathed in the amber glow of firelight, its ancient stone walls towering and imposing. The carved dragons that adorned the pillars seemed to loom larger in the flickering shadows, their fiery gazes mirroring the dread in the air. Daenerys Targaryen, flanked by Missandei, Tyrion Lannister, and a small contingent of her loyal Unsullied, stepped into the hall with deliberate grace, her eyes scanning the space with equal parts determination and wariness.

At the far end of the room, Varys, the Master of Whisperers, stood near the Painted Table, his hands folded neatly before him. A faint smile played on his lips, his watchful gaze sweeping over Daenerys and her entourage. His expression bordered on amusement, though it was tempered by his usual inscrutability.

Tyrion caught the look and quipped under his breath, loud enough for Varys to hear, “You look far too pleased with yourself, Varys. Have you missed me that much?”

Varys’s lips twitched as he turned his attention to Tyrion. “Always a pleasure to see you, my lord. Though I must admit, I find the situation more fascinating than amusing.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Of course you do. This must be a feast for your endless curiosity.”

Before Varys could respond, Tywin Lannister, standing near the head of the hall, cleared his throat. The sound silenced the murmurs and brought all attention to him. “Enough,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We have no time for your games, Varys.”

Varys inclined his head slightly, his tone unbothered. “Games, my lord? I merely appreciate the gravity of this moment.” His gaze flicked to Daenerys. “A reunion long overdue, I believe.”

Daenerys’s expression remained impassive, though her posture stiffened slightly. “And where is my sister?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with impatience.

Varys turned back to Tywin, his voice calm. “Ser Barristan Selmy is escorting her here as we speak. She will join us shortly.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, though he gave a curt nod. The hall fell into a tense silence as all eyes turned toward the heavy doors at the end of the chamber.

Moments later, the doors creaked open, and the sound of measured footsteps echoed through the hall. You stepped inside, your silver hair catching the firelight as you moved with quiet confidence. At your side, Ser Barristan Selmy walked with his usual air of calm authority, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

Daenerys’s breath hitched as she saw you for the first time. The woman before her was undeniably Targaryen—silver hair, violet eyes, the unmistakable features of Valyrian descent. But there was something more, something distinctly your own. Your expression held a softness, a quiet warmth that seemed at odds with the guarded look in your eyes.

For a moment, Daenerys could only stare, her thoughts racing. This was the sister she had heard about in whispers, the one Viserys had spoken of with equal parts bitterness and longing. You were older, wiser, shaped by experiences Daenerys could only imagine.

You stopped a few paces from the gathering, your gaze sweeping over Daenerys and her entourage before settling on her. A faint smile touched your lips, though it was tempered by caution. “Daenerys,” you said softly, your voice steady but tinged with emotion. “We finally meet.”

Daenerys took a step forward, her own expression softening. “You’re… different from what I imagined.”

Your smile grew faintly wry. “And what did you imagine?”

“Someone like Viserys,” Daenerys admitted, her voice quiet. “But you’re not.”

Your gaze darkened slightly at the mention of Viserys, though you kept your tone light. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

Tyrion, ever the mediator, stepped forward with a flourish. “Well, this is positively heartwarming. The Targaryen sisters, reunited at last. It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye, isn’t it, Varys?”

Varys arched a brow but said nothing, his gaze shifting between you and Daenerys with quiet interest.

Tywin, however, was less amused. “Enough of this,” he said coldly. He turned his sharp gaze on Daenerys. “You wanted to meet your sister. Now you have. If there is more to discuss, we will do so on terms that serve the realm.”

Daenerys bristled at his tone but forced herself to remain quiet.

You placed a hand on Tywin’s arm, your touch light but firm. “Let us speak, Tywin. There is much to say.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly, stepping back to allow the sisters to move closer. You turned your full attention to Daenerys, your expression softening once more.

“Come,” you said gently. “Let’s talk.”

The tension in the Great Hall of Dragonstone grew thicker as the gathered parties settled into place. Daenerys, standing with her delegation, exuded an air of resolve, but the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes was unmistakable. Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the Painted Table, his gaze flicking between the two sisters like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. You sat beside him, your expression calm but unreadable.

Daenerys inhaled deeply before stepping forward, addressing you directly. “I have come here to seek your support, sister. Together, we can reclaim what was stolen from our family. The Iron Throne belongs to House Targaryen.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his disapproval clear. His eyes narrowed as he leaned slightly forward, but he said nothing, allowing you to respond.

You turned your gaze to Daenerys, your voice steady as you asked, “Why?”

Daenerys blinked, slightly taken aback. “Why?” she echoed, as though the question itself was absurd.

“Yes, why?” you pressed, leaning forward slightly. “Why do you want the Iron Throne? What is it that drives you to seek it?”

Daenerys’s posture stiffened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. She glanced briefly at Tyrion, who remained silent, watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and caution. Finally, Daenerys straightened her shoulders and replied with conviction, “Because it is my birthright. Our family ruled Westeros for three hundred years. The throne was taken from us by traitors and usurpers. I was born to sit on it.”

You regarded her quietly, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Then, with a calm but firm voice, you replied, “You are mistaken.”

Daenerys frowned, visibly thrown off by your response. “Mistaken? How can I be mistaken? I am one of the last Targaryen born of our father’s line.”

You raised a brow, your tone unyielding. “By that logic, the claim does not belong to you. It belongs to me as the eldest surviving child of Aerys II, or to my sons, who follow me in the line of succession. Even if you pressed your claim further, the lords of Westeros would never accept you as their queen.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, her lips parting as though to argue, but no words came immediately. Tyrion stepped forward, his tone light but edged with caution. “Siblings arguing about succession—a tale as old as the Iron Throne itself. But perhaps we should focus less on who deserves it and more on why it matters.”

Daenerys shot him a glance but turned her focus back to you, her voice more measured now. “I do not claim to be the heir above you, but you have not pressed your claim. You have allowed the realm to be ruled by Lannisters and usurpers. Do you not see what the Iron Throne represents? It is the heart of Westeros, the seat of power. If we do not reclaim it, who will?”

Your expression remained calm, though a flicker of something—pain, perhaps—crossed your eyes. “And what will you do with it, Daenerys? Will you sit upon that throne surrounded by the ashes of what you burned to claim it? Will you rule a kingdom of fear and fire, as our father tried to do?”

Daenerys bristled, her tone sharp. “I am not our father. I am not the Mad King. I seek to bring peace, justice, and freedom to the realm.”

You leaned back slightly, studying her intently. “Freedom… from what? From whom? You arrive on Westeros’s shores with foreign armies and dragons, demanding allegiance. The lords and smallfolk will see you not as a liberator, but as an invader.”

Daenerys’s voice rose slightly, her frustration evident. “You sound like Tyrion. He warned me of this, but what choice do I have? Should I stand aside while others rule a throne that should be ours?”

Your voice dropped, quiet but cutting. “The Iron Throne is cursed, Daenerys. It has brought ruin to everyone who sought it, everyone who sat upon it. Our father went mad clinging to its power. Our brother Rhaegar lost his life and his family for it. I lost everything to it.”

Daenerys stared at you, her breath catching at the raw emotion in your words. She tried to speak, but you raised a hand to stop her.

“I have spent my life cleaning up the ashes left by our father’s reign,” you continued, your tone heavy with conviction. “I have seen what the pursuit of that throne costs. And I will not see my sons burned for a seat of melted swords.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Tyrion seemed at a loss for words, his usual quips silenced by the gravity of the moment.

Daenerys’s voice was quieter now, almost pleading. “Sister, we could change things. Together, we could break the cycle of suffering.”

You regarded her for a long moment, your gaze softening but remaining firm. “Perhaps we can. But not by chasing a throne that has destroyed so many before us.”

Tywin, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke, his voice calm but menacing. “This conversation is over for today. You will be escorted to your chambers. We will speak further when the time is right.”

Daenerys hesitated but nodded, her jaw tight as she stepped back. Tyrion placed a hand on her arm, guiding her toward the exit.

As she left the hall, her mind churned with frustration and doubt. The sister she had imagined for so long was not the ally she had hoped for. But Daenerys Targaryen was not one to give up easily.

And neither, it seemed, was her sister.

[onebadassunicorn]

All I Want Is You

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: pregnancy, premature delivery, fluff

word count: 1.3k

Taglist: @firefly-forest @salvatoresister1 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @batboyslutt @tiredsleepyhead

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

******

Chapter 9

Azriel POV

Y/n’s third pregnancy had been more difficult than they ever anticipated. The healer had warned them early on that this one would be harder on her body, that there were risks involved. But Y/n, his mate, ever fierce and full of hope, had insisted they could make it through.

Azriel had tried to stay optimistic for her sake, but deep down, fear gnawed at him. He saw how pale she’d become, how carrying the child sapped her energy more than her previous pregnancies. He stayed by her side constantly, his shadows curling protectively around her as if shielding her from the invisible threat.

But nothing could have prepared them for the night she went into labor far too early.

It began with a sharp pain that woke her from a restless sleep. She gasped, clutching her belly as Azriel bolted upright beside her. “Azriel,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

His shadows flared around him as he moved quickly, helping her sit up. But when he saw the blood staining the sheets, his heart stopped.

“No,” he whispered, panic rising in his chest. “No, no, no.”

Her face was pale, her breathing shallow as she looked at him, fear flickering in her green eyes. “Azriel, the baby…”

He didn’t waste another second. He called for Madja immediately, his shadows flying out to summon her and the rest of the family.

Within moments, the room was a flurry of movement. Madja arrived, her calm but firm voice taking command of the situation. Y/n was placed on the bed, her breathing labored, the pain written all over her face.

“Azriel,” Madja said, her tone sharp but steady, “I need you to stay calm. This is going to be difficult, but I will do everything I can to save them both.”

Azriel nodded, though his hands trembled as he gripped Y/n’s. “I’m not leaving her,” he said fiercely.

She reached up, her hand weak but determined as she cupped his face. “I love you,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you.”

“Don’t,” Azriel said, his voice breaking. “You’re going to be fine. Both of you. Do you hear me, baby? You’re going to be fine.”

The hours that followed were some of the longest of Azriel’s life. She fought through the pain, her cries breaking his heart as he held her hand, whispering reassurances that felt hollow even to him. Blood continued to seep from her, and Madja worked tirelessly to stabilize her.

When the baby finally came, her cries were faint but present—a tiny, fragile sound that made Azriel’s chest tighten.

“She’s so small,” Madja murmured as she wrapped the baby in a soft blanket. The tiny baby girl was barely the size of Azriel’s hand, her wings delicate and trembling as she let out another weak cry.

“Y/n,” Azriel whispered, his eyes flicking between his mate and their child. “She’s here.”

The baby was so small, so fragile, her wings delicate and trembling as she let out another weak cry. Azriel’s breath hitched as he looked at her.

“She’s early,” Madja said, her voice careful. “But she’s fighting.”

Azriel’s throat tightened as Madja placed the baby in his arms. She fit in his hands like she was made of glass, her dark curls already unruly, her green eyes, the same color as her mother's, fluttering open for a moment before closing again.

Y/n’s head turned weakly toward him, her eyes fluttering open as she tried to focus. “Let me… see her,” she whispered.

Madja hesitated for a moment before nodding and he brought her to Y/n’s side.

Azriel moved carefully to her side, lowering the baby so she could see. Y/n’s breath hitched as she reached out a trembling hand to touch their daughter’s tiny cheek.

“She’s beautiful,” Y/n murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Azriel nodded, his gaze never leaving the tiny bundle in his arms. “She is,” he said softly. “She’s so small. She came so early, we haven’t even decided on a name yet.”

He glanced out the window then, where the faint, shifting hues of the aurora borealis shimmered across the night sky. It was rare to see it here, but tonight, the lights danced as if celebrating the arrival of their daughter.

“Aurora,” Azriel said suddenly, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Her name is Aurora. For the light in the darkness.”

Y/n blinked, her tired eyes focusing on him. “Aurora,” she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue like a promise. A faint smile broke across her lips. “I love it.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, his hand brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “Aurora,” he murmured again, his voice filled with reverence. “Our little light.”

********

Hours later, after Madja had stabilized Y/n and the baby, Azriel emerged from the bedroom, cradling Aurora in his arms. The family was gathered in the living room, their faces lined with worry.

“They’re okay,” Azriel said softly, his voice raw with relief. “Y/n and the baby… they’re both okay.”

The tension in the room broke instantly, Cassian letting out a relieved breath while holding a sleeping Azriella in his arms. Rhysand closed his eyes briefly in silent gratitude. Feyre swayed back and forth cuddling a sleepy Eryan in her arms and exchanged a tearful smile with Mor.

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows curling protectively around Aurora as he gently tilted her toward the others. “This is Aurora,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Our little light.”

The family gathered closer, their expressions softening as they took in the tiny baby. Her dark hair was already a mess of soft curls, her delicate wings trembling slightly, and her green eyes—so much like Y/n’s—blinked sleepily before closing again.

“She’s perfect,” Feyre said softly, resting her cheek on the top of Eryan’s head.

“She’s so small,” Mor murmured, her voice filled with wonder.

“But strong,” Cassian added, his grin softening as he looked at his brother. “Just like her mom.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his gaze never leaving Aurora. “She’s a fighter,” he said quietly. “She gets that from Y/n.”

Rhysand stepped forward, placing a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice warm.

“She is,” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

When Azriel returned to the bedroom, Y/n was awake, her face pale but her eyes bright as she looked at him. He climbed into bed carefully next to her, settling Aurora in her arms.

Y/n let out a soft sigh as she gazed at their daughter, her tears spilling over as she smiled. “Aurora,” she whispered, the name a soft promise.

“For the light in the darkness,” Azriel said softly, wrapping his arms around both of them.

Y/n leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “She’s our miracle,” she murmured.

Azriel pressed a kiss to her hair, his voice steady despite the lingering fear in his chest. “You both are,” he said. “You and our children… you’re everything, baby. My whole world.”

Y/n smiled, her fingers brushing over Aurora’s tiny hand. “I love you,” she whispered, as she turned back to gaze at Azriel, her voice filled with quiet strength.

“And I love you,” Azriel replied, his lips brushing her temple.

As Aurora let out a soft sigh in her sleep, the three of them settled into the quiet peace of the moment, watching the soft glow of the aurora borealis outside.

The end.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 9

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.2k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60533293/chapters/158509354

Chapter 9

The next morning, Daphne came back from her chores to find Romulus sitting at the table, all dressed up in his old cloak and belt, with his dagger in its sheath dangling from his belt. She looked at him askance, still stung from the previous night. It had started out so well—when she returned from the village, she could tell he'd been waiting for her, and she'd wanted to tease him a little, to see if he had truly missed her. Perhaps she'd gone too far. But then he had made her blood boil, and this time not in a good way. First, he'd had the audacity to order her about in the bedroom—though she didn't particularly object to the act he'd proposed, it was his tone that insulted her. And then, after she'd overlooked that first offense and stirred from her sleep to help him out of his nightmare, he'd kicked her out of the room. Her room! Ingrate fool! She could tolerate some male arrogance, but she had her limit.

"Going somewhere?" she asked coldly.

He avoided her eyes. "Yes. I think it's time I rejoin my legion." His voice was polite but flat.

Daphne's heart stumbled, as if his words had just grazed it like a knife. The day before, down in the village, she'd heard about a big battle going on in the Parthian city of Nisibis, not far from the border. Everybody had been talking about it, saying it would decide the war. She had sat with her mother and Mikkos, praying for Attikos and other men from the village, who were no doubt fighting in it at this very moment. Upon returning to the hut, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Romulus about the battle, but she'd stopped herself. She was afraid that if she'd told him, he would've left immediately to join his fellow soldiers. As angry as she was with him, she didn't want him to go. Not yet.

Had he heard something after all? But that was impossible. How could he have, stuck up here with no one for company except the goats? So why did he want to leave? Was it because of what had happened between them? Did he regret sleeping with her? Was he married after all and now regretting his infidelity? Or perhaps he simply didn't want to stay with a woman who had threatened to kill him. She hadn't really meant it, of course she hadn't. It was only because he'd made her so mad... Oh, why had she let her temper get the better of her?

She put the jug of fresh goat's milk down on the table and turned to the larder, bringing out bread and cheese and olive, moving slowly so she would have time to compose herself. "You wish to go to Edessa?" she said.

"Yes."

She didn't want to tell him that the army was no longer in Edessa. "But you're not—"

"I know I'm not well enough!" he snapped, reverting to his old irascible self. Then he took a breath, and continued in the same flat voice as before, like he was trying to distance himself from her. "You mentioned that there's a town a couple of days from here," he said, "where I can get passage to Edessa."

"You mean Adala?"

He nodded. "Adala, yes."

She finished setting out breakfast. "And when do you wish to leave?"

"As soon as I can. I'm well enough for a two days' walk, surely?"

"Yes." She found herself mimicking his tone and grimaced in annoyance.

He got to his feet. "Right. Prepare some food for me then." His old commanding voice was back, and she glared at him. He must have realized how he sounded, for he corrected himself, "I mean, if you could spare some food and point me in the right direction, I'll get out of your hair. I've imposed upon your hospitality for long enough." He'd never spoken to her so courteously, so coldly. She wished he would shout and whine and complain as he had before. It would be a hundred times preferable to this polite stranger.

But there was no point in clinging to him any longer. He was never going to stay. This was bound to happen sooner or later. It would be better if he left now, before she became too used to his presence.

She sighed, thinking of the long summer days ahead, when she would be alone again. Despite the heat, she would sit outside with Midas and the goats, just to feel the presence of some living things other than herself, or go into the garden and put her ears to the beehives, listening to their gentle buzzing, just to hear something other than her own thoughts rattling inside her head. She would miss him, miss this strange, infuriating man...

Then an idea occurred to her.

"Perhaps I should go with you," she said slowly. Her mind was telling her this was not a good idea. Better to cut off the wounded limb and make a clean break, than to draw out the agony. But her heart was saying otherwise. "I have to visit the apothecary in Adala anyway," she explained, "to trade for a few things and restock my shelves."

Romulus looked at her, considering the option. She thought she could see the conflict in her heart reflected in his face, as the desire to spend more time together waged war with the fear of a prolonged goodbye. "Very well," eventually he said, in that same stiffly polite tone. "I would welcome your company."

"Then give me some time to pack," she said, trying not to sound too excited. "And you don't want to travel under this sun. It's better if we leave in the evening. It will be cooler then, and you can stay hidden."

It was clear that he had not thought about the danger of being discovered. He nodded and took off his belt and his cloak.

For the rest of the day, Daphne busied herself going through the various jars and bottles and packets of herbs, taking stock of how much she had, what she could use to barter, what was running low. She had to admit that labeling the jars had been a big help. It helped, too, to have Romulus's assistance as he wrote down her inventory on the wax tablet. For a while, the easy companionship between them felt like the old days again, and Daphne managed not to think too much about the imminent departure. She also remembered to bring Amalthea and her kids to Ione, who was most eager to watch the animals while Daphne was away.

They descended the hill as a waxing moon rose over the rock cliffs. With Midas's bridle in her hand, Daphne led them around the village instead of through it. She knew that on a cool, moonlit night like this, the villagers would be out in droves, sitting on their doorsteps, the women weaving, the men fixing their tools, all sharing drinks and gossip, and this detour was the only way to avoid detection. Once out of the village, they followed the stream as it wound its way through the valley to meet the Balikh. The water was low and sluggish this time of year, but the soft murmur of the current was enough to mask the sound of their footsteps.

"You all right?" she asked Romulus, when they were deep in the valley. "Would you like to ride Midas? Or should we stop for a rest?" She had heard him wheezing behind her for a while, but didn't want to stop before they were far enough from the village.

"I'm fine" was all he said. She looked back at him. His face was gray in the pale light of the moon, his dark eyes were enormous, and he was breathing heavily.

"No, you're not fine," she said, putting Midas to a halt and moving some of the saddlebags of herbs aside. "Get on."

Romulus glanced at the donkey and made a face. "No."

Daphne sighed, exasperated. Such ridiculous creatures, men. "I'm sorry I don't have a war elephant for you," she said. "Get on. I'll not have you collapse on me again."

He looked at Midas once more, before apparently deciding that his comfort was worth more than his dignity, and climbed on the saddle. Daphne suppressed a triumphant grin as she took up the bridle and walked on.

They walked through the night, under the silver moon. After it set, they pushed on for a while longer, until the sky brightened into a pinkish gray and a strip of gold appeared on the eastern horizon. The sun rose rapidly, spreading light and heat across the valley. Eventually, when the heat became too much, Daphne drew them to a stop under a bank of willow trees by the stream and made camp. Romulus looked up and down the bank warily, but after she assured him that they would be perfectly safe, he sat down next to her, with his back against a willow. They ate some of the bread and cheese Daphne had brought along. Then, shielded from the hot sun by the sweeping willow branches above and cooled by the gentle flowing of the stream beside them, they slept.

The sun had dipped behind the hills again, but it was still light, by the time Daphne woke. Romulus was no longer lying near the willow tree across from her, and she bolted up, afraid that he might have slipped away while she slept. But no, he was still there, sitting a little further down the bank. He was trying to shave with his dagger and making a mess of it.

"Need a hand?" Daphne said.

He jumped. "Hades!" he cursed as the dagger clattered to the ground. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"No, but you may cut your own throat if you try to shave with that meat cleaver." She pulled her own little knife from her belt and sharpened it with a stone from the riverbank, before handing it to him. "Here, try this."

He took the knife from her and tried again. One scrape, and he threw it to the ground as well. "I've never done this before," he said, sounding both frustrated and embarrassed. "There were always barbers..." He glanced at Daphne. "Can you do it?"

Daphne hesitated. "But I've never shaved anyone before," she said. "Well, I did, once. My husband. The morning he left to join the army." It had been the last time she saw him.

Romulus shrugged. "It's not hard. I'm sure you can do a better job than I."

"You trust me?"

She only meant to ask if he trusted her not to make a mess of his face, but a hesitant look came into his eyes, and Daphne remembered that she'd threatened to kill him just the night before. Of course he wouldn't trust her.

She handed him the knife. "It's best that you do it," she said.

The look in his eyes changed inscrutably as he looked from the knife to her and back again. Then, reaching out his hand, he pushed the knife back toward her and raised his chin expectantly.

Crouching down in front of Romulus, Daphne started to scrape the knife across his jaw. A small whimper escaped his throat. She jumped back, holding the knife aloft. "That hurt?"

"It's fine." He cleared his throat. "But usually the barber would put some kind of oil in my beard first, to soften it."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Daphne dug through her supplies and found a jar of almond oil, which she rubbed into his beard. The pulse just below his jaw beat wildly under her hand, and when she happened to lift her eyes to his face, the look he gave her made her own heart thump along with his. How she longed to kiss him there, on his jaw, to feel that pulse and his warm, smooth skin beneath her lips... But he would probably push her away again, and she was not willing to repeat that exercise in humiliation. She put the knife back to his beard. He was right. With the oil, the knife glided over the hair much more smoothly and easily.

"Is that better?" she asked. Romulus nodded once and sat still, as if afraid any movement would cause her hand to slip. "Relax," she said. "I won't nick you. I promise."

"I'd rather you promise not to gut me like a fish," he said.

She glared at him, but his tone was light, and something like a wry smile was lifting the corner of his mouth. She felt her cheeks grow hot. "Don't test me," she warned, trying to put on her sternest face.

His teasing smile grew, and for a moment he looked once more like the man who had taught her to read, the one who had helped her after her father's disastrous visit, the one who had held her hand when she told him about her husband. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

His breathing calmed after that, yet her own remained ragged as if she'd just made an uphill climb, and she couldn't help noticing the heat between them. She forced herself to concentrate. Scrape, scrape, scrape. The hair fell away under the blade, slowly. They were breathing the same air, their bodies feeling the same heat, separated only by two thin layers of linen. She wanted to hit him and then kiss him, and then hit him again, for making her feel this way. But she did nothing, only reminding herself that he would soon be gone. Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Once his jaw was clean, Daphne moved on to his mouth, trying not to notice the feel of his lips between her fingers. Then she leaned back to survey her handiwork.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Very well."

In truth, her shaving was rough, and there were uneven patches here and there along his jaw where she hadn't gotten all the hair. But, freed from his scowl, and with his curls getting longer and falling over his forehead, the face that emerged from under the beard was sweeter, almost boyishly handsome. She cleaned the oil off with the end of her stole and flicked away the little hairs that stuck to his skin, her fingers lingering over his now-smooth cheeks. He tilted his head, pressing his face into her hand, his dark eyes gazing into hers. Daphne's heart jumped. She knew that look. He'd looked at her the same way the other night—had it only been two days ago?

It was on her lips to ask him to stay, to keep this touch, this fire between them just for a little while, just a little longer... Her thumb brushed across his mouth, and he jolted away as if her finger had been a poisoned arrow.

"We best get a move on," he said, getting to his feet.

The plea for him to stay died in her throat. With a sigh, she stood up as well and began packing their things.

They continued in silence, with only the moon as their constant companion. The next day, they left the valley and the stream behind as the path rose toward a plateau. The willows became shrubs, then the shrubs became tuffs of tired brown grass, before getting swallowed up altogether by the tired brown sand of the plateau. Adala lay on that plateau, a handful of mud-brick houses lining narrow, winding streets, all congregating around a small marketplace. Having neither pastures nor arable land, it made its living as a trading post, where merchant caravans stopped for a change of horses before heading to larger towns, and where farmers and shepherds from surrounding villages brought in their goods to barter and exchange. It was the one place Daphne had learned without her grandmother's guidance—the old woman had never left their village and had seen no need for it, but Daphne had understood early on that she could not make a living if she stayed in their village all her life. Besides, she liked the hustle and bustle of the town, though only in small doses.

They pushed on, not stopping to rest, and came into Adala in the early afternoon. Romulus had jumped off Midas's back as soon as the town came into view. Now he stalked next to her, his head low, the hood of his cloak pulled up to cover his face, and his hand gripping the dagger tightly.

"Stop worrying," Daphne said. "No harm will come to you here."

"You can't be sure of that," he mumbled, his eyes darting left and right. It wasn't a market day, so the town wasn't particularly busy, but that only made the two of them stand out more. Eyes were turning their way, with curiosity that would soon turn into suspicion, Daphne knew.

"If you're trying to appear suspicious and draw attention to yourself, then you're doing an excellent job," she said drily.

He straightened up and pushed the hood off, looking slightly abashed. After that, he walked more normally, though he still kept a hand on the hilt of the dagger.

They walked past the marketplace under the shadow of a temple of Zeus and turned into a side street. Unlike the rest of the sleepy town, it was crowded here, as the townspeople flocked to The Lynx's Head for their drinks, snacks, and daily gossip. Part tavern, part inn, part gambling den, it was the true center of Adala, much more than the marketplace and the temple ever were.

Daphne stopped a little further down the lane and nodded at the tavern. "There you are," she said. "Go inside and ask Eukleis at the bar if she knows of anyone going to Edessa. You'll get passage in no time."

Romulus glanced at the crowd gathering outside The Lynx's Head, looking uncertain, but said nothing. He still said nothing when Daphne handed him a little pack containing a change of clothes, a wineskin, some food, and a small vial of poppy juice, in case his wounds still bothered him.

"Well," she concluded. Her voice shook a little, and she cleared her throat, trying to sound cheerful. "I must hurry before the apothecary closes for the day. I guess this is goodbye."

Romulus opened his mouth, but no words came. He kept gazing at her, with a beseeching look in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. She waited. Ten, fifteen, twenty heartbeats passed. He still didn't say anything. His hand moved at his side, but he didn't reach out for her.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey," Daphne said. Then she pulled her stole over her head and led Midas away.

"Daphne?" Romulus called after her.

She spun back so quickly that she hated herself for it. "Yes?" she said, hope flickering painfully in her heart.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "And may the gods watch over you as well," he added, almost as an afterthought.

There was a pang in her chest that might have been heartache, or it might have been mere disappointment. She nodded at him and walked down the street without another look back.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[noctuadora]

Okay so I just woke up from a 4hr nap wanting to talk about Leon for a bit. Emphasis on just woke up, so expect my thoughts to be jumbled.

To be honest, the more I think about this specific post (and the quotes that came with it) the more I don’t get how people can say that Leon is a “MEAN guy who’s actually really corrupt and morally grey” when in fact…

He didn’t hesitate to protect Ada from getting shot. He was gentle with her—despite revealing later that he did not trust her that much—and mourned her ‘death’ even after she pointed her gun and betrayed him. He only knew her for a day.

He sacrificed himself and started working for the government in order to protect Sherry. He didn’t have a choice, but he also said that he didn’t regret it. He only knew her for a day as well.

He comforted Ashley after seeing how terrified she was from being controlled by the virus. It must’ve been scary for him as well, realizing the unpredictability of the Los Plagas infection, but nevertheless he prioritized in making her feel safe and reassured. She was his mission, but he didn’t treat her like a mission—he was warm and friendly with her.

He mourned Luis’ death. He lit up his last cigarette and patiently listened to him talk about his regrets. He held his hand tightly. Despite knowing he worked for Umbrella—the very company that ruined his life—he sympathised with him.

He refused to give the chip to Claire in order to protect her. Some think that his decision was made because he wanted to ‘protect the government’, but it doesn’t take much to understand that he knew and understood (ex. Shen May’s situation) that Claire’s life will be in danger if he gives the chip. She is his dear friend—one of the only people who understood what he’d been through in Raccoon City—he couldn’t bear to lose her.

(Extra: I haven’t read the Infinite Darkness comic but this post mentioned that Leon made time to visit an injured detective he barely knew in the hospital and even asked the condition of two other guards.)

There are a lot more instances in other installments that showed Leon’s unwavering kindness, but I’ll stop here since it’s almost 4AM and I need to get ready for work.

Resident Evil isn’t particularly known for its story and writing, and there are a lot of inconsistencies and shit, but one of the things that stayed consistent all throughout the franchise is Leon Kennedy’s need to protect the people around him. It didn’t matter if he only met them for a day or they’ve wronged him. If he could just save one more life, he’d gladly push himself to the limit (and that is his biggest strength… and flaw).

Some people love to perceive him as either: a lovestruck fool who is a puppy for someone, or a man who is a mean jerk… but all I see is a man whose heart is so wounded yet continues to fight and give protection to those who need it. He may be working for the government now (by force, by the way; he didn’t have a choice), but that genuine part of him hasn’t changed, and will not change.