#but i know pain lurks in our future

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play  nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks. 

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind  "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter one]

summary: Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, has always prepared you to marry and you have always resisted, terrified that you will only ever be seen as a wife. But your heart is torn when love catches you by surprise.

contains: mentions of self-harm, aged-up characters (Jace is ~19 idk)

a/n: wow i have not posted on this blog in YEARS but i lurk in tumblr reader insert oneshots like it's my part-time job, and i wrote this on AO3 so i decided to post here and hopefully get some love. i really love posting my writing even if it is not perfect, it's just a passion. let me know if i should post the second chapter and my asks are always open! xx - pearl🦪

Beauty is power, my mother used to tell me, stroking my silver hair as if it were made of golden thread. She loved my hair. Use your beauty to set yourself free. I had no idea if she meant for her words to bring some kind of comfort to me - they did not. 

Sometimes, I hated her for bringing me into the world altogether. While Jace and Luke envied my resemblance to our mother, I detested sharing her light hair and lilac eyes. It seemed to me a symbol of my imprisonment - it became clear to me, hearing all this talk of my beauty and nothing else, that I was never to be loved or seen for anything else.

In my youth, the abstract concept of my fertility and status made me a formidable form of currency within the royal family. Jacaerys, older by one year, made his way as heir by training in combat and dragonriding and studying the history of Westeros and Old Valeria - I, however, was confined to studying the family trees of the realm's powerful houses, to perform the perfect Velaryon princess and eventually be bred like a cow.

I hated my life. 

Many attempts were made to rebel against my predetermined future. At ten and two I sliced all the hair from my head, leaving a shaggy, uneven mess of shimmering half-bald patches that took years to grow back. I had never seen my mother so angry until at ten and four I began slicing patterns into my arms and legs to scar the perfect pale skin everyone complimented me on. Soon she required a chaperone with me at all times, which only made me more furious, and I began picking fights with my cuntish uncles and coming back from dragon rides inexplicably soaking or covered in soot. I waited for my mother to attempt to put together the puzzle I had laid out in front of her; to figure me out and decide that her daughter - the strong-willed, intelligent, adventurous one - matters more than the empty shell of a married woman that I will surely become. 

At the very least, my mother allowed me the power to turn away whomever I wished. It seemed she hoped I would find someone who struck my fancy. But as time passed and my antics worsened, her grip on me tightened, and I began to fear the wost: an impending betrothal. 

She frequently asked me to rack my brain and think of any previous men she had introduced me to who I may want to explore further. But I was stubborn. I maintained that no one had caught my eye, and I insisted that I would never marry. Whenever I said such things, my mother would frown at me in a way that hurt my heart. She was my greatest antagonist, but I loved her, and I knew that it saddened her to put me through such pain. 

Even if there was one man who never left an impression on me, whose memory kept me awake in the darkness of night, I would never tell my mother. It was too humiliating after so many years of fighting marriage to be seduced by love.

Every so often I allowed myself to think about him before I went to sleep, to be swept up in the beautiful dream of someone's arms around me. I could imagine him saying to me, I choose you. That was what I always dreamt of hearing. I choose you, as you are. Just you. 

Jacaerys tried to sympathize with me but he would never truly understand. He did allow me to partake in his own pastimes to grant me a change of scenery from the walls of King's Landing. 

"It infuriates me that she herself is allowed to break barriers as heir to the Iron Throne and I must remain shackled to tradition," I complained to Jace as we sparred in a remote corner of the keep. "She gets to be immortalized as the first of her name while subjecting me to a loveless marriage."

"She was in an arranged marriage with our father." Jace pointed out, sending a particularly hard offensive move my way. I easily thwarted it. 

"Well..." I trailed off. There was nothing to say, not in words, about our parents, or our parentage. It was an unspoken issue, even between Jacaerys and I who were nearly as close as twins. We supposed it would always be shrouded in mystery. We were prepared to always wonder. It seemed unthinkable to ask our mother any questions, nor our father, nor... 

Strong boys, they said. 

Perhaps Jace and I wouldn't speak of it because our difference in hair color had always been a sore subject. I was broken out of my thoughts by another offensive move, this one catching me by surprise. I stumbled back but recovered, moving around the side of my brother as he laughed at me in the way only an older brother would. 

"I'll get you back for that," I snapped at him, but grinned. He smiled back, shrugging cockily. Bring it on, his eyes told me. 

We sparred a bit more until our breaths were heavy in our throats and our swings became more jests than challenges. Eventually, he tossed his sword on the ground and fell upon a sack of grain. I sat next to him and for a moment we were not prince nor princess. We were just two siblings. I sighed, knowing it wouldn't last for long. 

Jace seemed to decide to bank on the moment as well because he looked to me and spoke. "Was there really never anyone who caught your eye? Not in all those years of meeting suitors?" He thought for a moment. "There were some good ones."

"Some good ones?" I scoffed. "Who, pray tell?" 

After a few moments of consideration, he began to chuckle and I rolled my eyes. The chuckle became a cackle and at this joke, I did not laugh along. We both knew that most of the options I had been presented with were vapid, shortsighted, insecure children, as were most men.

I was about to hit him to shut him up when he stopped suddenly and his face brightened with realization. 

"I know a good one," Jace said, "Cregan Stark."

A flush crossed my face at the name.

Usually, I only allowed that name to cross my mind in the darkness of night, but Jace had disrupted that routine. "What about him?" I tried to ask innocently. This time my brother was the one to roll his eyes at me. 

"Don't play the fool, sister," he teased, "when he came to visit those years ago everyone could see that you both took a liking to each other. Even you couldn't fight him." He nudged me playfully with his elbow. "He fights like a Northerner, and he wanted to fight for you."

"Oh, hush."

"Why did you ever turn him away anyways?"

His question silenced me. It was a painful memory. Cregan had come to treat with my grandsire and pledge his support as Warden of the North, and in those two moons he stayed at King's Landing we came to know each other well. Perhaps the reason why I had opened myself to getting to know him was because he had not come for the intention of courting me. In fact, I found him wonderfully ignorant about the social politics of the royal family, and he did not know of my existence upon his arrival. 

The day we met, I was in the Godswood with a book and a porcelain cup of candied almonds. A midnight blue veil covered my thigh-length silver hair. I hated my hair, and I hated that my mother would not let me cut it. I refused to have it braided and let it fall unbrushed and wild down my back.

He had come into the courtyard without noticing me tangled in the roots of the tree. He came closer to examine the trunk thoughtfully, allowing me a glimpse of his face through the branches. I had heard of his arrival and listened from behind closed doors at their meeting, intrigued by his deep voice and foreign accent. I listened intently as he spoke a prayer in a hushed tone. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted to meet mine between the leaves as if he had known I was there the whole time. 

"Apologies, my lady," he bowed his head slightly. "I did not know the Godswood was occupied."

"There is room enough for two," I said shyly. I was not accustomed to being pleasant towards men. I was known for being a beautiful devil, a menace with a sour tongue. It made me self-conscious to think that I was changing my behavior for a man. But I was merely matching his politeness; and he had no reason to falsify his kindness, since he had no idea who I was. 

Luckily for me, I had no reason to overthink my words because he went silent for a long while, lost in a wordless prayer. After a quarter of an hour had passed, he came closer to me, and gestured to the root beside me. 

"Do you mind if I sit?" He had asked.

I shook my head and he moved his thick cloak to drop down beside me. 

"Pardon my intrusion, my lady, I find myself feeling lonely when I come to the South. The Godswood calms me."

"I understand, Lord Stark."

His eyebrow quirked. "You know who I am?"

"I'm afraid I do." I smiled. I loved having the upper hand. I decided I wouldn't tell him who I was. 

"What is your role here in the castle, my lady?" 

"To please lords like you." I jested. Cregan leaned back slightly, taken aback. I quickly realized the suggestive wording of my joke. "Not like that," I quickly corrected, "I was just... I mean-"

"I know who you are, princess." He chuckled at me. I was glad to be rescued from the embarrassment of my failed joke. I gazed at him questioningly. He leaned forward and gently removed the veil from my head. "Unfortunately your appearance does not allow you anonymity." 

I blushed. "What have you heard about me?" 

"Nothing, I admit, until your grandsire told me about you today. He told me of your age, not many years my junior, and I supposed-"

"- That I might make a fine breeder for you?" I snapped. There went the illusion of politeness. This was where they usually ran, when I became a beast instead of a beauty. A piece of work not worth the effort. 

Instead, Cregan merely chuckled. "Actually, I sought a companion. A friend. Being here is lonely for me, and I thought you might show me what life in King's Landing is like. If I am to swear fealty to your family, I seek to know your customs. Your mother has told me that you are the most well-acquainted with the keep of her children." 

You smiled. Had your mother truly said that? It was true, since you spent so much time darting around the palace avoiding her orders. 

"Would you mind giving me a tour?" He asked. His tone was so gentle, so uncomplicated. It was like no man had ever spoken to me before. With respect, as if he were speaking to a friend. It was refreshing.

For the next few weeks, Cregan and I formed a friendship based on mutual respect. He informed me of Northern politics and asked for my opinions on complicated political matters through a Southern perspective. I introduced him to my dragon, Vermithor. Afternoons were spent in the Godswood picnicking for the purpose of introducing him to local cuisine, and evenings were spent in the library discussing literature. The relationship felt as easy as breathing to me, and I could tell he felt the same. After close to two moons, it had begun to frighten me how much I longed for his presence when we separated at the end of the day. 

There had always been a tangible tension between us that toed the line between friendship and romance. Lingering gazes, intentional touches, and meaningful words kept me up at night. He opened up to me about the unique grief of losing his wife in childbirth and having to leave his infant son at home so soon afterward. I showed him the scars littered across my body, and explained to him how I hated my beauty.

He had taken my head in his hands and looked through my soul with those gray eyes. 

"Your beauty... It is just a fraction of you. What is truly incredible is your kind heart, your wit, your intelligence, your soul..."

I had been unable in that moment to keep myself from kissing him, so I let my mind empty and I surged forward to connect our lips. He responded with fervor, bringing me close, the pads of his thumbs barely grazing the peach fuzz on my cheek. I could not even bring myself to feel ashamed about grabbing his tunic underneath his cloak, my fingers unknowing but desperate. He had taken my hands and pulled back, only to kiss my nose, then brow, then the corners of each eyes, and then my knuckles. 

Suddenly I came too. I saw in front of me the path that had been laid for me - a wife, be it to a good man or a bad one. I was still determined not to let that happen. 

As I often did, I had fled. I had avoided him until he went back to Winterfell. Two moons later, a raven came from him. I didn't dare open it, too afraid to face my actions. Even if I felt that I knew what the contents were, Cregan was not like other men I knew - thus I had always wondered what the letter said. I wondered if it was true that he truly cared for me and saw who I was inside. The thought made me realize that even I myself did not know what path may be laid in front of me. My feelings confused me, and I decided to shut the Lord of Winterfell out of my mind forever.

Except on some dark nights. 

And except for now, when Jacaerys prods my arm and awaits the answer to his question. I realized I must have been silent for a long time as his voice began to register in my head. 

"Lost in thought?" 

"Ha-ha," I shoved him back. "Sort of." 

Jace's face became serious. "I was only jesting, but perhaps I shouldn't have brought it up. I know you truly did care for him."

"How could you tell?" I asked, genuine curiosity lacing my tone. It was past the point where it was worth feeling awkward about the truth of my feelings. I was only human, after all. 

"He was kind to everybody, but especially to you." Jace pursed his lips in thought. "Although at the same time, he does not treat you like you're soft. It was like he loved hearing you speak. Like your word was God."

I smiled. 

Jace nudged me. "And... he looked at you like you hung the damn sun in the sky."

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. I knew it was true, but I was used to people looking at me in awe. As if I were a ball of light floating in front of them, ethereal, untouchable. Cregan was not afraid to see through me, to touch me. He made me feel held.

Emotion overcame me in that moment. I quickly scrambled up from the bag of grain Jace and I were lounging on, grasping my sword and tossing my hair over my shoulder. 

"Well, it's too late now," I quickly said, "He's in Winterfell and it does not matter if he cares for me or not, I do not want the life of a housewife."

Jace stood. "Who says that getting married means you'll become a housewife? You'll be a lady, you could do whatever you please." 

"It isn't just the marriage, it's the principle of it!" I cried, moving away from him towards the main training yard. "As soon as I take those vows, it means my purpose is only to bear children." As we entered the larger courtyard and grew closer to other people, he grasped my arm and spoke to me in a lowered voice. 

"I know you think I do not understand, but I am soon to be betrothed as well, likely to someone I will never love."

"Well, at the end of the line, you have a throne." I spit at him, spinning on my heel and leaving him staring helplessly after me. 

[nimbusclan]

Moon 5 Part 2

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Moonstar gasps awake, sitting up so fast she rams her head into the thick underside of a low-hanging branch that she and her brother had spent the night taking turns sleeping under. They’ve been doing that, taking turns – who knows what things are lurking out here in the dark, so far from home.

If they can't go back, does it still count as home? 

“Ow…” Moonstar groans, a sharp throb pounding against her skull. What a way to start the morning.

Fogfreckle ducks his head underneath one of the branches, sweeping past the leaves to gaze curiously at his sister. He tilts his head questioningly, mouth open to ask what’s wrong, when the words die on his tongue and his eyes widen.

“Fogfreckle!” Moonstar mews excitedly, leaping to her paws. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

“Your– your forehead,” Fogfreckle croaks. “You… were visited by StarClan?”

“What about my forehead?” Moonstar asks, confused and distracted. She presses a paw against her head to see if perhaps she’s bleeding, but her paw doesn’t come away warm or wet. The rest of her brother’s words filter to her slowly through the dull throb of pain and the fog of the early hour. She pouts. “Yeah, Star– how did you guess so quick?”

“There’s– your forehead. You have a star. A leader’s star.”

Moonstar’s pout deepens. “Well. That kind of steals my thunder.”

“Moonpool, what happened?”

“Moonstar now, actually.” Moonstar grins. “StarClan visited me in my dreams and granted me my nine lives. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t even have to– there was no–” Moonstar’s tongue can hardly keep up with everything that’s swirling in her brain, the experience of her leader’s ceremony playing back to her as if memory and not just dream. “NimbusClan lives on, Fogfreckle. In us, just like you said. We’re to lead NimbusClan into its new future.”

“‘We’?” Fogfreckle asks weakly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“Of course, ‘we’!” Moonstar laughs, bounding closer to her brother. She feels so full of life, coursing through her like the widest, wildest river. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that. Besides, what’s a leader without her deputy?”

“Deputy?” Fogfreckle repeats, dumbstruck.

“What are you, a raven?” Moonstar laughs. “Yes, deputy! As leader, I’m appointing you as deputy of NimbusClan, Fogfreckle.”

Fogfreckle swells with pride, pale chest fluffed out as he inhales a shaky breath. “I– yes, Moonstar. Thank you.”

“Don’t get all formal on me, now. You’re my brother first, deputy second.”

“So, we really are still a Clan.” He grins, then the expression fades from his face somewhat. His eyes take on an earnest shine. “Did you… I know you’re not supposed to talk about the ceremony, but… when you visited StarClan, did you… did you see our parents?”

Moonstar smiles gently, heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Dad had told her to tell Fogfreckle that their parents miss him, too, so surely StarClan won’t be displeased if she shares just that much? “Yes. I saw them. Mom and Dad. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Fogfreckle hiccups, stepping close to push his head hard against Moonstar’s.

“I wish you could have seen them too,” She adds in a whisper, nuzzling into his dawn-warmed fur. The sun is just starting to crest the side of the mountain on its way up, crawling lazily into the sky. Greenleaf heat creeps on silent, soft paws across her pelt. It’ll be humid later, but for now, it’s pleasant.

“Maybe they’ll walk in my dreams one day, too.”

“I hope so.” Moonstar presses one more smile into his fur and then pulls back, squaring her shoulders in what she hopes is a leaderly fashion. It’s only her brother, but she may as well start getting used to playing the role. “Alright, deputy. What’s our first order of business?”

Fogfreckle grins. “How about breakfast? I could go for some eggs.”

“Perfect idea.”

Both cats stretch out their paws and take off, bounding up the mountain.

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[astraanti]

Through your eyes

Optimus prime (Bayverse) (Mass displacement) x Fem human

4120 words

Note: My language is not english. This one shot was originally written in spanish. If you see a mistake in the translation, don't hesitate to tell me. Ty ❤️

This One Shot was based on the song Through the Eyes of a Child by AURORA!

Enjoy! ❤️

Tranquility at the base was a rarity, especially knowing that a war was lurking around the corner. A war that, as a species, had involved us for a few years due to our alliance with the Autobots.

In every great confrontation, there were always losses: a sea of debris, energon and spilled blood spread across the battlefields, mixing with the smell of black powder.

We hoped this would end soon. Too many lives lost, entire generations paying the price for an insatiable thirst for power. But for Optimus, this was more than a war. Each battle was a reminder of what he had lost, of what his people had sacrificed for a conflict that seemed to have no end.

For him, each extinguished spark was a new wound, an additional weight on his already tired shoulders. Although he tried to hide it behind his posture of unwavering leader, his optics could not lie. There was a weariness to them, a suffering that echoed in every word he spoke.

Optimus was not just a soldier. He was a witness to the fall of Cybertron, a survivor who had seen his world slowly die. And through it all, he kept fighting, not for glory, but for the hope of a better future.

He saw the consequences of war: pain, tears, and the sacrifice of beings of great heart and innocence.

However, that day was the exception. It was a light of hope that shone through the agony.

We had received news of a Decepticon ship crashing near the city. We had to explore it because no vital activity had been detected inside. At least, that was what we thought.

At first Optimus refused to allow me to accompany him, but I insisted. I was not a soldier like the members of NEST, I am just a human civilian who wanted to accompany my partner, even on such a dangerous expedition.

“Stay close to me, no matter what,” Optimus ordered as we geared up for the mission.

I climbed into his cockpit in the copilot’s seat, aware that he was upset that I had persuaded him, but I also sensed a hint of resignation in his voice.

I stroked the inside of his cockpit. I knew how much he had been through in the past few days. His holomatter, a human projection of him, had nightmares. He didn’t need to sleep, sometimes he would activate his holographic form and stay in a recharge state next to me, seeking temporary relief in my arms.

I knew our relationship was a small refuge for him, but his past, so full of pain, haunted him constantly. It was inevitable.

All this time he had made difficult decisions, decisions that, although necessary, had left deep scars on his soul.

“Optimus…” I whispered, knowing he could hear me even over the roar of his engine. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

He didn't answer, but I felt a subtle shift in his energy. Perhaps it was a spark of hope, or at least the desire to be able to believe in my words.

For Optimus, even such a simple promise was an anchor. A reason to keep going. Because he had carried the burden of an entire world on his shoulders, he now had something else to protect: not just a cause, but someone. Me.

And although he didn't say it with words, I knew what he felt.

And so the journey began. A caravan of Autobots and military convoys followed us closely. The tension of discovering what that Decepticon ship was hiding kept us alert. We knew it could be a trap, but there was also the possibility that luck was on our side.

I could see the sunset from the window, it was like a breath of fresh air for my soul. Being locked between base and base was sometimes suffocating for me. It's so nice to have a scene like that and be a spectator of it.

So, Optimus opened the passenger window halfway to make the experience more pleasant, he knew how much I liked sunsets.

"Thank you."

It wasn’t long before the sun began to set and night began to creep into the sky in the company of the glittering stars.

But it also meant that we were close to our destination. The Decepticon ship soon loomed in the distance, though visibly damaged, it stood in a field of twisted debris and charred metal.

The impact marks and cracks in its structure were proof that it had fallen from a great height. The air was permeated with a strange metallic smell, mixed with the scent of spilled energon.

The NEST soldiers descended from the vehicles as we arrived; armed and in formation, they scanned the surroundings with military precision. Some set up a security perimeter, while others secured the area.

I jumped out of the truck.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of gears and metal parts moving beside me, indicating that Optimus had transformed.

"Stay tuned. We don't know what we can find here," Lennox warned firmly, his eyes scanning the field for any sign of activity.

The Autobots were the first to approach the ship. Optimus led the group with his posture full of authority and determination. Bumblebee advanced behind us, emitting a couple of musical phrases through his radio as a way to relieve the tension. Ratchet, always attentive, inspected any energon residue he found, while Crosshairs complained loudly.

"Why do we always have to explore the most unpleasant places? Is there no Decepticon ship that doesn't smell like death?" Crosshairs grumbled, adjusting the weapons he carried at his waist.

"Stop complaining, Crosshairs. If there's no danger, it's better for us," Drift intervened, momentarily unsheathing his twin katanas to cautiously explore.

"Everyone stay focused," Hound growled, holding his huge weapon. He looked around suspiciously, always ready to open fire if necessary.

I stayed by Optimus’ side as we made our way to the entrance of the ship. However, something inside called to me.

“Stay close to me, you promised,” Optimus reminded me in a firm but protective tone, stopping for a second to observe me.

I nodded, but that strange feeling kept pulling me somewhere else. It was something I couldn’t ignore.

The Autobots began to make their way through the various cabins of the ship. The structures were torn apart, the hallways barely lit by sparks, and there was a faint blue glow of dried energon on the walls. They found no signs of life, not even the slightest noise.

Ratchet knelt next to a dead Decepticon, inspecting his body.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Ratchet said, shaking his head. “Their processors are completely fried, as if a massive overload had instantly disabled them.”

“An experimental Decepticon weapon?” Drift asked, his gaze fixed on another nearby body.

“It’s possible, but there’s no clear evidence. It could be something internal…” Ratchet interrupted himself as he examined the corpse. “Still, there’s nothing.”

As Ratchet and the others figured out the source of the charred processors, my focus on the hunch kept taking me elsewhere. I tried to figure out what it was, but I felt a slight warmth in my chest, as if an invisible energy was directing me.

So I made the decision to separate myself while Optimus explored the controls area in the cockpit.

I was so wrapped up in chasing my intuition. And...

I found it.

But Optimus found me before I could take another step. I felt his presence a little before I heard his deep voice echo behind me.

"I told you not to get away from me," he scolded me in a stern tone. His optics looked at me more with concern than anger.

I raised my hands in apology, feeling small before his imposing figure.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but... there's something here, Optimus." I don't know what it is, but I can feel it," I replied, pointing at the metal door at the end of the room.

He looked where my finger was pointing, his face hardening. Without saying a word, he advanced towards the door and, with the brute force that characterized him, ripped it off its hinges.

What we found on the other side left me speechless. The room was covered in dried energon debris, forming dark puddles that seemed to glow faintly under the dim light. But most disconcerting were the human toys that were scattered across the floor. There were worn-out stuffed animals, plastic cars, and dolls with broken limbs.

"What is this...?" I muttered, feeling a chill run through me. I took the largest toy in my hands and examined it to see if there were any marks or messages that might give us some answer. But there was nothing, it was just a worn-out and broken toy.

I put it back on the floor.

I pulled my flashlight from my belt and began scanning, illuminating the corners of the place as I tried to process what I saw. What were human toys doing here? It didn't make sense.

Optimus remained silent, but it was clear that he was also analyzing the scene. Suddenly, a soft, high-pitched sound broke the silence. It was Optimus' radar, activating.

"There's an energy signature..." he said cautiously, tilting his head slightly as if trying to locate the source of the energy on the radar.

I turned to him, confused,

“Here? In this chamber?” I asked, shining my flashlight.

“Yes. It’s faint, but it’s here,” he confirmed, advancing with slow, careful steps.

My flashlight picked up something at the back of the room, in a dark corner. It was a small figure curled up between thick blankets, almost hidden among the remains of energon and scattered toys. I couldn’t make out what it was, but an impulse drove me to approach it.

“Wait,” Optimus stopped me, placing his huge hand in front of me as he crouched down to reach my height. His gesture was protective, as always.

“I just want to see it better,” I assured him, although my voice was carried away by my nervousness.

He nodded reluctantly and allowed me to advance under his watch. The energy signal grew stronger as we approached the figure. Whatever was there, it was alive. Or at least, something was still working.

Optimus followed me until we reached the pile of blankets stacked high. We both carefully removed them, until we realized what it was...

"My love?" I called out to Optimus and fixed my gaze on him, he was also in shock.

It was a torn sack of energon. Next to it, there was a small sleeping Cybertronian hatchling clinging to a dirty teddy bear.

Our souls sank into sadness.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I slowly approached the hatchling and stroked its head. Its large glowing optics opened in fear as it woke up.

"Hey! You're okay, calm down. We didn't come to hurt you, little one." I lowered the flashlight to the ground and put my hands in front of me to show the hatchling that it was completely unarmed.

Optimus remained silent behind me with his optics fixed on the small hatchling. It was as if he was processing the situation, as if what we were seeing couldn't possibly be real.

“How is that possible?” he finally murmured, a mix of disbelief and sorrow in her voice. “The hatchlings ceased to exist when Cybertron fell… none could have survived.”

But there she was, clinging with all her might to that worn-out little bear, shaking as if the mere act of existing scared her. The lights on her armor flickered weakly, a sign that she barely had enough energon to stay active, and she had deep dents in several parts of her body.

“Is it possible that she survived this long here?” I asked, keeping my voice soft so as not to scare her further.

“The hatchlings ceased to exist after Cybertron’s decline. The few that remained… they didn’t survive. Hunger, rust, and neglect…” Optimus stopped, unable to continue.

My eyes filled with tears at the sight of her so vulnerable, but I forced myself to remain calm. Slowly, I knelt in front of her, trying to look as unintimidating as possible.

“Little one, you’re safe,” I said softly, carefully bringing my hands closer so she could still see them. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

She cringed against the bear tightly, her large blue optics focused on me in terror. Optimus stepped forward, his imposing presence seeming to frighten her even more.

“Wait, Optimus,” I asked softly, holding up a hand to stop him. “Let me try.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, looking for a way to get closer to her. I decided to sit on the floor, getting down to her level, and spoke again.

“Do you have a name?” I asked, trying not to sound pushy.

The child didn’t respond at first. She just stared at us, those huge optics full of uncertainty. Finally, she stammered something, her voice weak and shaky, as if she wasn’t used to using it.

“No… I don’t have a name…”

My chest tightened at hearing her. She was so small, she seemed so broken inside and out. I looked at Optimus, whose expression reflected as much pain as mine.

“Can you tell us how long you’ve been here?” he asked, lowering his voice to an almost fatherly tone, something unusual for him but comforting.

The hatchling shook her head, hunching further into herself.

“A long time… alone…” she whispered, her words cut off by small sobs. “The bad guys… gone. They’re all gone.”

My tears wanted to come out, but I held back. I couldn’t allow myself to show weakness now, not in front of her. I approached a little slower and more carefully, until I was close enough to touch her little metal hand.

“You’re not alone now, little one,” I said, lacing my fingers with hers. Her touch was cold, but I felt her trembling lessen a little at the contact. “I promise you that you’re safe with us.”

Optimus knelt down as well, his huge body making an effort to look less intimidating.

“We won’t hurt you, little one. I’m here to protect you,” he assured her, his tone full of warmth and promise.

The hatchling looked up at him, her optics shining with something that could be hope. She hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded.

“How can we help you?” I asked, gently stroking the less damaged part of her head.

She looked down at the broken energon sac beside her, her optics filling with tears that couldn’t fall.

“I’m… hungry…” she said in an almost inaudible whisper.

Optimus exchanged a quick glance with me, and in that moment we knew we had to do everything we could to save her.

“Ratchet,” Optimus called over the communicator. “We have a situation here. We need energon and medical equipment immediately.”

The atmosphere in the ship grew more tense as the other Autobots continued to scan the cabins for weaponry and any clues that would explain what had happened there. However, for Optimus and me, the priority had changed: this hatchling needed help, and fast.

Ratchet arrived shortly after, accompanied by Bumblebee, who was carrying a small container with refined energon. Seeing the hatchling, the Autobot medic couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

“Primus… a Cybertronian hatchling, It's a sparkling ” he murmured, kneeling beside us to examine her. His expression quickly changed from surprise to professional focus. “She’s in pretty bad shape. She needs fresh energon and repairs.”

Ratchet connected a tube to the energon container and carefully brought it closer to the hatchling. She recoiled a little at first, but her instincts betrayed her. The hunger was too much, and after a moment of hesitation, she accepted the food. The blue liquid began to flow, and her optics glowed a little brighter with each sip.

“That’s it, little one. Don’t worry, this will make you feel better,” I said softly, stroking her head as she drank.

Bee made happy, surprised sounds.

“It’s a miracle,” Optimus replied, his tone grave but full of determination. “But we won’t leave her alone.”

As the hatchling finished feeding, her little systems seemed to stabilize a little. Ratchet performed a quick scan and sighed.

“Her structure is stable, but she has multiple damages. The armor is dented, and her spark is weak. She needs a more thorough treatment at the base,” he reported.

Optimus nodded.

“We have to take her immediately,” Optimus placed me on his shoulder. Finally, he took the baby in his arms and headed for the exit of the ship.

Many of the NEST and Autobot soldiers looked at the scene in disbelief. My vision was fixed again on the baby who looked at me with curious optics.

I couldn't help but smile to give her confidence.

•••

The return to the base was not the easiest. I had to get Bee and the baby into Optimus' trailer. Bumblebee, being a small autobot, fit, but with difficulty.

We realized that it was the most effective way we had to transport her to the base.

The noise of the city scared her too much, even though she couldn't see her through the walls of the trailer. I don't think she'd ever known the world outside that storage chamber.

But when we arrived, Ratchet, Optimus, and Bee carried the little girl into the Autobot medbay. I didn't leave their side for a second. The baby had fallen asleep in Bumblebee's arms, and they placed her on a makeshift stretcher while Ratchet prepared his tools.

"Will she be okay?" I asked, biting my lip. I watched the doctor adjust a monitor that projected the status of her spark.

"She will be, but she needs time and care. Her systems are severely affected, but with enough energon and repairs, she can recover," Ratchet replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

Optimus remained silent next to the stretcher, his optics focused on the little girl.

"She's so... traumatized," I said, saddened.

Optimus answered after a pause.

"The hatchlings of Cybertron were vulnerable, even in times of peace. But during the war… they became victims of the conflict. This little one was probably alone for a long time, witnessing things no young life should ever see. "

The hatchling began to stir a little, as if she was having a nightmare. I reached over and took her hand, gently caressing it.

"Shh, calm down. You’re safe now" I whispered, trying to calm her down.

She slowly woke up, her optics looking at me with some confusion.

"What… what is this?" she asked, her little voice was weak but curious.

"It’s a safe place, little one. We’re here to take care of you" Optimus answered, his tone was soft and warm.

She looked around again, still having a hard time accepting that she was out of this dark, cold place. Then, her optics focused on me, and for the first time, I saw a slight spark of trust.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, with a heartbreaking innocence.

My throat closed up at the sound of her voice, but I smiled and nodded, taking her hand firmly.

“Of course. We’re not leaving you alone anymore.”

Optimus leaned toward her and spoke with the solemnity only he could use.

“You’re with us now. We’ll protect you. That’s my promise.”

•••

The days after the rescue of the little hatchling were a roller coaster of emotions. Ratchet worked too hard on her recovery, and Optimus and I didn't move from her side. While her small body repaired the most serious damage with the help of energon and Ratchet's skills, we took turns talking to her, keeping her calm and reassuring her that everything would be okay.

Sometimes I read human fantasy stories to her, taught her to speak and to know everyday objects. Optimus for his part stayed behind to guard our safety.

"How are you feeling, little one?" I asked her one afternoon while I carried a small container of energon to her.

She took the container in her small hands and looked at us.

"Better..." she murmured, her voice still unsure.

Optimus, standing next to me, leaned towards her.

"You've been very brave. I'm proud of you," he said in a soft, comforting tone.

The hatchling blinked, we noticed that she was not used to receiving words of pride. I walked over and gently stroked her head.

“You know, I think you should have a name. Something you like and that makes you feel special.”

She looked at us, confused at first.

“A name?” she asked, as if it was a new concept for her.

“Yes, a name,” I replied with a smile. “Something that is yours.”

Days passed before she made a decision. She asked us questions about Autobot names, human names, and even my own. Finally, one morning while I was eating breakfast, she pointed at something on a screen. It was a bright star in a picture of the galaxy.

“I want… I want to be called Nova! ” she said cheerfully.

The name suited her perfectly. Nova. A bright spark in the midst of so much darkness.

•••

Over time, life at the base became much more lively with Nova around. Her steps toward normality filled the air with a joy we hadn’t felt in a long time. Optimus and I would spend hours watching her play, either with the humans working at the base or with Bumblebee, who had become her companion for exploration and learning.

One evening, as the evening light cast on the hangar walls, Nova ran after Bee, laughing happily. I stood leaning on the frame of the hangar entrance. I watched as Bee let herself be caught and then jumped up and encouraged her to keep running. It was such a simple scene, but so exciting and sweet.

Suddenly, I felt something familiar behind me. Optimus’s large hands gently encircled me as he adjusted his size with his massive displacement to not appear so imposing. His metal arms were firm but comforting, and his presence made me relax more.

“It’s beautiful to see her like this, isn’t it?” he murmured, always managing to calm any intrusive thoughts in my mind.

I nodded, leaning against his metal chest.

“Yes, it is. It’s been so long since I saw something so joyful. Nova brought light to the hangar, Optimus.”

He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was gathering the right words. Then, he spoke.

“Remember that time we talked about having children?” he asked.

My lips turned into a smile as I turned slightly to look at him. Of course I remembered. We had had that conversation during one of the few quiet nights amidst the chaos of war.

“I remember, yes,” I replied, looking into his blue optics that reflected love.

“We can’t create a life together, not the way humans or even Cybertronians do. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be parents.”

I fell silent, trying to process what he had just said.

“Are you saying that… you want to adopt Nova?” I asked incredulously.

Optimus nodded slowly.

"She already sees us as important figures in her life. I don't want it to be just a temporary bond. I want Nova to know that we are her family, now and always."

The lump that formed in my throat was hard to ignore. I turned completely to look him in the eyes.

I bit my lip as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help but get emotional hearing his words.

"Yes "I whispered, I had broken down.

Optimus rested his forehead against mine, a gesture of intimacy, affection and connection.

He wiped my tears.

"Then it will be like this. She will be our daughter. Nova is a spark of hope. And I want that hope to grow with us."

I looked at his optics again, my heart beating faster than normal. I think it was time to tell him.

"Optimus... "I continued, my voice sounding a little shaky.

He gave me a worried and attentive look.

"What's wrong?"

I let out a slight nervous laugh and squeezed his hand a little.

“I thought about what you said, about not being able to create life together. And it’s true, humans and Cybertronians can’t have biological children. But…”

He cocked his head, clearly intrigued.

“But what?”

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

“I guess Nova won’t be our only child,” I said with a slight smile.

The silence that followed was palpable, but not awkward. Optimus tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me as he processed my words.

“Let’s just say… the surprises don’t stop with Nova,” I commented.

Optimus remained silent for a few moments, his optics lighting up with a mix of wonder and something that seemed to be hope. Before he could respond, a joyful shout from Nova broke the moment, drawing our attention.

“Mom! Dad! Look how fast I can run!” she shouted, turning to greet us with a wave of excitement.

Optimus and I exchanged a glance, and though our words remained unfinished, we both knew that the future held something unexpected, something that would change our lives again.

[intermundia]

i did enjoy how a long time ago in a galaxy far far away was folded into the lore of the gffa itself in this episode, making it belong to the jedi and their history, that's a fun little meta twist. it's like, you can see what the show is trying to do here. they're being very clever with the whole concept of a galaxy far away from our galaxy far far away, it's a story about stories, about memories of the past and hopes for the future. this other galaxy is not a whimsical place of happily ever afters, though, the cute little noti excluded, much like our gffa, it is full of pain and death. baylan says it's a place of dreams and madness, and the planet is where the purrgil whales go to die, it's a graveyard. shin's naive, earnest 'sometimes stories are just stories' being met with the idea that it holds the way to break the cycle of rise and fall of darkness, like stories matter and can change things. they're not detached fantasies, they're dangerous and full of potential, lurking with menace like thrawn's power to start a war. the show is to some degree making commentary on the power of star wars itself, you know? all the pain and death mixed with whimsy and friendship. ahsoka will be changed by visiting a gffa of the gffa, so will ezra and sabine, thrawn too. they're moving in and out of this second level of being stories inside the story to other characters. it's all very meta but not in an annoying way, in an intriguing way, which is nice. i'm interested to see where filoni is going with all this.

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Siren Song || Toji x fem!reader

Arranged marriage AU, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader is linked w a curse, mild mentions of abuse between readerxfamily

idk if this is even good it was a random thought haha

Toji doesn't want to marry you. It's nothing against you really. It's your family and his of course. You had both known each other growing up. Not really interacting too much but you knew of each other.

Together you were sat in a room while your futures were discussed without your presence. Typical. Toji tapped his finger along the armrest of his chair.

"You don't really want this either do you?" His voice pulled you out of the disassociation you had come to engage in frequently. Slowly you turned your head to him. You only shrugged at him and he scoffed. "Come on seriously? Why not fight back against these pricks huh?" You didn't say a word. Your family had been clear on what would happen to you if you were to argue or object, just as they had your entire life.

"I am doing as I am told. To continue to strengthen the bloodline. Both of our bloodlines." Your voice was soft. Toji was loud and argumentative. You had seen the fights he got into with the head of the clans.

He let out a sarcastic laugh. "Little dove always doing as she's told. Do you not have dreams or ambitions? and don't spout that shit to me about 'strengthening' the bloodline." He scoffed. "I've got no cursed energy and as far as I have seen, you don't have any either." Toji leaned toward you. Eyeing you as if he was trying to see what lurked under your skin.

He would never find out what lurked under there. You kept it quiet. Your family made sure it did not come out but Toji did not have to know. No one had to know.

You could hear people shuffling out of the room next door. They would be coming to the two of you soon with an answer.

Toji sensed the same and looked to you with something close to pleading. "Don't let them do this to us. I don't want this. Neither do you." You felt bad for him. He didn't deserve to be paired with a monster. He didn't know he was and that was maybe the worst part.

Before you could respond to him the door slid open. Your father and the head of your clan looked to you with their stone cold faces. "Come."

Slowly you stood and followed, glancing to Toji over your shoulder as you left the room. You tried to convey the things you couldn't say but you knew he wouldn't understand.

You entered the smaller room, kneeling before the two men as they muttered to each other before finally looking to you. "You know what is expected of you, yes?"

Keeping your head down you nodded. "Do you have any objections?" You almost laughed. Objections in this family? HA. It was a taunt, just for them to smack you down if you spoke but you felt like you had an obligation to get Toji out of it. You knew you weren't to actually be together, to produce heirs. You were a ploy to kill Toji and then due to the transgression you would be executed. The two outsiders, the two stains on the family names would be wiped from the world.

Their problems would be solved.

"I.. um-" The two males snapped to look at you. You took a deep breath, keeping your eyes to the floor. "I don't think it's fair to Toji. He doesn't deserve this, it's not his fault h-" You sentence was cut short by a swift hand flying through the air and striking you. You toppled to the side, you stopped yourself from trying to soothe the pain, it would only bring more if you did. A soft scuffling sounded in the hallway but no one seemed to notice.

"You stupid girl. How dare you speak on matters of which you have no knowledge. You bring shame upon us." The head of your clan tsked at you. Moving slowly back into your previous position.

Finally your father spoke. "You two will wed. The ceremony is tomorrow. It is not up for discussion. You both are sins of nature and our families will not pay the price."

"Yes father." They left the room without another word. Tears brimmed and fell quietly from your eyes. You did not sob. You watched as they fell. If they heard you cry they would only be back to finish what they started.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, wiping the tears away as you slowly moved back to the room Toji still sat in. You avoided his gaze as you sat back down in your previous seat. "What did they say?" He eyed you intently.

You took a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. "They said we are to wed. Tomorrow." Keeping your gaze on your hands.

He huffed and leaned back in his chair. "So there really is no getting out of it huh. You know what? Fuck them. We can escape them once we are wed. We will get out of this."

You wanted to scream and cry at him. There was no getting out of it. He would not live past tomorrow night. You knew why they were in a hurry. Tomorrow night was that of the blood moon. You would have no control over yourself. Lost to the beast under your skin.

You could feel your body vibrating, from fear or anger you didn't know. Toji sighed and crouched in front of you. Taking your hands in his large rough ones.

"Look doll, I get you might not want to be stuck with me but I'm not going to hurt you." A quiet sob broke free from you. He might not hurt you, but you would have no choice but to hurt him. "Y/N, I'm sorry, really I am but we can leave once this is over alright?"

You took a breath and looked up at him through teary eyes. "Toji, you have to listen to me, you-" His face was sincere. Both of the clans heads entered the room stopping your confession.

"You two are to be separated until the ceremony tomorrow evening."

Toji stood, blocking your fragile form from their view. "I think I'd like to spend time with my future wife."

"We weren't asking boy. Leave." Guards advanced, you could see Toji's body tense, he was going to fight them just to not be separated from you. Did he know already? Or was he only acting out due to the tears that fell?

You couldn't let him suffer more than he was already going to. You stood and gripped his wrist. Toji turned and looked down at you. His features softening. "It's alright Toji." He was trying his best to see through the facade you were putting up. Reluctantly he nodded and moved to the side. Guards ushered you away from him and out of the room. The next time you saw him you would be sealing his fate without him knowing.

~ ~ ~ ~

You were confined to your room for the rest of that evening. Today was the day that you would kill an innocent man after swearing to love and protect him. You had always been fond of Toji. He was attractive of course but it was his strength you admired the most. He never rolled over. He always put up a fight. He didn't sit there an take it. While there were limits to how far he could push, he still pushed. He just needed an out and he thought you were it.

But you were only his damnation, not his salvation.

You were kept in your room for most of the day. Servants entered and left. Bringing your dress, doing your hair, packing your room. It had to look like you truly were going to live past this evening. To keep up the appearance of normality.

It was time for the ceremony. You were dressed and done up. A nightmare in a pretty package.

Both clans were present. Even those who were not part of either were present. This was the wedding of the century. It was a shame for it to end in bloodshed.

Everyone looked to you as you entered the venue. Toji's expression was hard to read. You would almost say he looked happy, hopeful even. It took everything in you to not turn and run away and hope they put you down before you made it past the doors.

Your father handed you off to Toji. Toji pulled you close and whispered in your ear. "It's okay little dove. We are free after this. Trust me."

You trusted him but he could not trust you.

"Do you Zenin Toji take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife? To love and protect above all else? To carry on the bloodline?"

You wished he would say no. "I do."

Your heart broke with every passing second. "Do you Fushiguro Y/N take this man as your lawfully wedded husband? To love and protect above all else? To carry on the bloodline?"

He looked at you with such hopeful eyes. You hesitated but he winked at you. Your father advanced a step. "I do."

"You may now kiss your bride. May the bloodlines prosper."

Toji cupped your face and slowly pulled you in. His lips were soft and tentative. It was welcoming and reassuring. Tears pricked as you kissed him back. You hated how in only a few hours you would ruin all of this. Something that could have been good.

People cheered as the kiss broke apart. He wiped his thumb under your eye. "It's okay doll. I got you."

The two of you walked back down the aisle as the rest of the guests followed for the rest of the entertainment for the evening.

Toji and you were sat at a large table at the front of the room. Your father and the clan head sat next to you while the other clan head sat next to Toji. You thought this would have been a moment to talk to him, to tell him to run as far away from you as quickly as possible.

As the clock ticked you only got more nervous. "I need to excuse myself a moment." Your father eyed you and Toji smiled at you as you got up. This would be it. Maybe you could get out now.

You quickly left the ceremony and escaped into the quiet of the hall. The blood rushing through your veins thumped loudly in your ears.

The doors you had just left squeaked open, the noise flooding the hallway before going quiet again as Toji came towards you. "Are you okay? I know it's overwhelming but it's almost over. I'm here." He cradled your hands, tears started to fall again. "What's wrong? Why are you crying? Look if it's because of m-"

"NO! No it's not because of you, well it is but not for the reason you think, Toji you have to listen to me you have to get far away from me tonight you can't be near me I can't control it please~" You rambled on, tears streaming down your face, sobs wracked your body as you tried to explain as quickly as you could.

Toji shook his head and cupped your face. "Wh-What are you talking about? I won't leave you behind with them. I... I saw how your father treated you. I would never hurt you."

A painful sob broke from you as you gripped his wrists. "Toji please I'm trying to save you, the moon will rise soon I won't-"

The door slammed open as your father and both clan heads emerged. They all held fake smiles. "You are missing your celebration."

Toji's eyebrows furrowed, he pulled you into him. “We were just spending a moment alone. Isn’t that what newly weds do?” You tried to hide under his arms in hopes that if they just couldn’t really see you maybe they would leave.

“You should retire for the evening.” Your father stepped closer, flanked by the clans heads.

Toji nodded. “Yes, I think we’ll go.” He went to turn with you but you were stolen from his grip.

“We need to have a word with her. Not to worry. She will meet you at home.” Toji scanned your face looking for any indication of what to do but you nodded. This was good. This would keep him away from you.

Toji reluctantly took slow steps backwards before you were dragged away.

Hallways became unfamiliar the faster you were pulled through. “We keep her here until the last moment then we unleash her.” You pulled on their grip, tried to dig in your heels to stop their advancement but nothing worked.

You were thrown into a room with a large metal door.

“Please father! I don’t want to hurt anyone!” You cried out as the door locked. You father stood emotionless on the other side of the bars. “You were a curse on this family. A sin. Today will be the end of that. The end of you.” He left without another word.

You paced the expanse of the small room. You could feel the beast lurking under your skin. Clawing at the insides of your mind. It wanted out. With every hour the moon rose you could feel your control slipping.

Guards slid the door open after some time, you cowered away from them, crying out as a needle pierced your skin. A sedative. Your body fell limp.

No.

Your control was slipping faster, you knew you wouldn't be able to fight back. They dragged you quickly through the compound under the red moon. Your eyed lulled, your head rolling. Your home came quickly into view. No, no, no. You hoped Toji had left, had ran.

They slid the door open and threw you to the floor before disappearing into the night. You gripped the floor, nails growing long and violent as your fingers elongated, leaving large scratch marks into the wood. Breath laboring.

"Doll? Is that you?" Toji's voice echoed from somewhere in the house.

You tried to talk but you felt your throat constricting. A voice that was not your own trying to force it's way out.

"Toji, come ~no, run-" The voice luring him. You could feel your limbs elongating, your hair grew longer, a wetness seeping like you had just been dumped in water.

Toji came flying down the stairs, he stopped dead and the sight of you, water pooled around you, you could feel the deadly smile forming on your face, putting rows of sharp teeth on display.

"Shit doll, a siren under your skin isn't what I was expecting to see tonight." He tried to joke but you could feel your mind slipping.

"I'm ssssorry..." The snake tongue having formed, your control over your mind was gone. You mourned the life you could have had and the bloodshed you would cause.

~ ~ ~ ~

Toji POV

Shit. shit. shit. shit.

Your body snapped and popped as bones changed and adjusted. Your teeth grew to razor sharp points, eyes turned into a black abyss.

His pretty girl hidden underneath whatever had been lurking under your skin.

He understood now. Why you had been acting so odd, why you begged for him to leave you behind. Had you been able to get him alone and tell him he would have found a way to help you.

It was all making sense now. The wedding between you two. For the hopes of the clan heads you would kill him, not on purpose of course but they would arrive the next morning to his destroyed body and you would be executed for treason even though they were planning this. He scoffed almost impressed at the plannning.

The body that wasn't your own rose, towering even his height.

"Toji.." The demonic voice hummed, only a hint of your sweet one underneath.

He wasn't familiar with sirens but he knew how they came about. A bastard child born, words whispered of the woman seducing the married man, eventually turned the child into what they cursed the mother for. A siren luring men with sinful thoughts to their demise.

However, Toji never had a thought such as that. Even if he had not wanted to marry you forcefully, it didn't mean he didn't care for you, or that he would abandon you even if he did not love you.

But, he had some feelings for you. Growing up with you he had come to know you, you weren't like all the stuck up assholes in the clans. He had saw you try to defend him to your father, he had seen the beating you had taken. You tried to protect him. Now it was his turn to protect you.

"Doll, I know you're in there. You gotta fight it." Toji backed away slowly. The house was a decent size, a forest in the back. He could lure the monster, maybe trap it until morning. You would change back.

The siren hissed before lunging for him, long talons swiping for his head. Lucky he was quick even without cursed energy.

He ran, the siren slammed into walls and furniture as it tried to keep up.

"Toji..."

He tried his best not to listen. The lack of sin made it easier but there was a small pull regardless, more due to the feelings he harbored for you.

He called for the curse he had a pact with as he broke out the back door. Sirens saw best in the dark which is why you turned at night. A nocturnal predator.

Toji pulled out a small ball and twisted it, clicking sounded in an increasing tone. He stopped short, the siren lunged and he threw the small orb.

"I'm sorry darling, this might hurt."

The ball exploded in a blazing fire.

The siren screamed as it fell to the ground, its snake like tail writhing to put out the fire that had engulfed it.

He took it as an opportunity to take off, there was a place he knew of deep in the forest. With enough time he could trap the siren there until you turned back.

Toji's speed gave him a much needed head start, he knew of a broken down temple deep in the forest with a vault like basement. Most likely used as a experimentation room on curses he was sure.

He threw himself into the dilapidated building and down the broken stairs. Quickly he pulled out more fire bombs, setting a longer timer so they would blow when he was safely away from here. He hated the fact that you might get hurt but there was nothing else he could think of. Toji couldn't lure you anywhere else, considering this was your death sentence and no one would hesitate to kill you.

"My love.." The demonic tone echoed in the area as Toji crouched in the dark corner on the opposite wall of the entrance. He would try to lunge past and slide the large door as quickly as he could. This way hurt you the least, he wasn't sure if the injuries inflicted on the siren also hurt you and he didn't want to hurt you at all. He didn't care if he really had to sacrifice himself if it meant he could save you and let you get away.

The siren flew down the stairs and into the room just as he intended. It closed in on him in the corner, the need to kill overpowering any critical thinking, he lunged past as the siren charged, the talons barely cutting his shoulder. A flesh wound at most.

He slid out the door just as the bombs exploded. The scream of the siren almost exploded his ears, the way your voice broke through made his heart ache.

Quickly Toji shut the heavy vault door, and locked it in place. You screamed and screamed, he wanted nothing more than to open the door but he knew the manipulations of the siren.

Heaving he sat down and leaned against the cool metal. The sounds of fire sizzling just barely audible, the screaming continued as the siren banged around in the room, hitting the door a few times before an eerie silence engulfed the area.

Toji eventually stood before slowly making his way back to the house to retrieve his phone. A call needed to be made. One that would save you. The red moon caressed his skin as he made the trek back. He hoped you would be safe by the time he returned.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on the dimly lit space around you. You couldn't help but curl into the warmth that surrounded you.

"Hi my pretty girl." Toji's deep voice jarred you as you shot upright.

"Toji?!" You looked around at the concrete room you were in. Small lit torches lined the room. Long claw marks dug into the walls and the floor.

You.... you hadn't killed him. You looked down at your body in disbelief. A small jade pendant hung from your neck now.

"You think I'd go down that easy? You have no faith in me doll." Toji smirked down at you where you sat in his lap.

"But... what happened? I'm not dead... you're not dead.." You remembered collapsing at the front door, Toji's shocked face as your body snapped and transformed.

"That little snake under your skin put up quite a fight but clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with.” He tucked your sodden hair behind your ear.

You looked away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I tried, really I did-" He held up a hand to stop you. "I know, I was quick to figure out what had been going on. None of this is your fault. I'm just glad you're okay." A soft smile crossed his face as you caressed the jade pendant you wore. "Now that, is something I got for you. It's a talisman. It should help keep the siren at bay. We will figure out a way to help you. Whether we get rid of it completely, or you can control it. I'll be there every step of the way regardless."

You hadn't felt such care and concern in all your years of living. In a quick movement you grabbed his face and pulled his lips to yours. He didn't move at first but quickly pulled you even further into him. Teeth clashed as the kiss got more heated. He nipped your lip causing you to gasp. In the opening his tongue slipped past continuing his assault.

You pulled away out of breath, both of your faces red, skin hot.

"It's me and you from now on doll." He kissed your forehead, then pulling you against him as you both cherished the calm before the storm you were about to unleash.

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

[andy-15-07]

can you do a fic where JJ and Y/n Maybank are married for so many years and they have two teenages , boy and girl and the boy is oldre than his sister ad they argue because his sister is dating Rafe Cameron's son , and JJ and Y/n are trying to stop them

Family Ties

masterlist ! pairing: JJ Maybank x wife!reader

Outer Banks Masterlist

In the cozy Maybank household, the air was thick with tension as JJ and Y/n sat at the kitchen table, their brows furrowed in concern. Their two teenagers, a boy and a girl, stood before them, their arms crossed defiantly.

"Mom, Dad, you just don't understand!" the teenage girl, Emma, exclaimed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I love him, and he loves me. Why can't you accept that?"

JJ ran a hand through his hair, exchanging a worried glance with Y/n. "Emma, we're not saying we don't trust your judgment," he began, his tone pleading. "But you have to understand the history between our families and Rafe Cameron's."

"Exactly!" the teenage boy, Jake, interjected, his arms folded across his chest. "Why would you want to get involved with someone from that family? They're trouble, Emma."

Emma's eyes flashed with defiance. "You don't get to tell me who I can and can't love, Jake. Just because you're older doesn't mean you know everything."

Y/n sighed, her heart heavy with worry. "Kids, please, we're just trying to protect you. We know firsthand the dangers that come with getting involved with the Camerons."

"But that's not fair!" Emma exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion. "You can't judge Rafe's son based on his father's actions. He's not responsible for what his dad did."

JJ exchanged a pained look with Y/n, realizing the truth in Emma's words. "You're right, sweetheart," he admitted, his voice softening. "We shouldn't judge him based on his father's mistakes. But you have to understand why we're worried."

Jake stepped forward, his expression earnest. "Emma, we just don't want to see you get hurt," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "We've seen firsthand the chaos that surrounds the Camerons. We don't want you to get caught up in that."

Emma's resolve wavered, her gaze flickering between her parents and her brother. "I know you're just looking out for me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I love him, and I believe in him. Please, just give him a chance."

JJ and Y/n exchanged a silent look, their hearts heavy with worry. They knew they couldn't control their children's feelings, but they also couldn't ignore the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

Finally, JJ spoke, his voice filled with resignation. "Okay, Emma," he said, his tone weary. "We'll give him a chance. But if anything goes wrong, promise us you'll come to us."

Emma nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. "I promise, Dad," she said, her voice filled with gratitude.

Y/n wrapped her arms around her children, holding them close. "We love you both so much," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "We just want what's best for you."

As the tension melted away, replaced by a sense of unity and understanding, the Maybank family embraced, their bond stronger than ever. And as they faced the uncertain future together, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would overcome them as a family, united in love and resilience.

[http-paprika]

Bite the Hand / Phillip Grave

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⋆★⋆ part one - strangers ⋆★⋆ masterlist ⋆★⋆ next ⋆★⋆

summery the arrival of the shadow company and a request from the commander, phillip graves, causes her to question where her future lies.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 2,036 / warning brief mentions of blood

notes it's finally here ladies and gents, the awaited phillip graves werewolf series. there'll be no use of y/n in the story, the reader is referred to as frost or lieutenant. the taglist is still open, so if you'd like to be added to it, let me know. and without further ado, enjoy the first chapter.

Iron. Sweat. Rust. Gunpowder. Blood. Lots of blood.

It coated the inside of her mouth as she bit down hard, slamming open a door trying to get out. Anywhere but inside the stuffy base that’s air was stale and thick with intrusion from the private military company that had seemingly infiltrated it. There’d been no warning, no announcement, they’d just arrived and word began to spread among her task force as to why they were there. Conflicting messages that left her dizzy and made her chest tighten with anxiety. If Frost’d been smart, she would have retreated into the safety of her room. But she was one anxious outburst away from shifting, and that would cause more troubles for her.

Outside was the best option, the base bordered a rocky pass of mountains; were she to phase unexpectedly, retreating into the wild was easy. There she could wait until the pain was bearable enough to phase back, maybe by then the Shadow Company would’ve left. She could suffer through whatever punishment her commanding officer would give for her disappearance. Frost just needed to get away. But even in the cold air, she couldn’t find solace from the scent. It clung like a parasite in her nostrils which flared as she turned in the direction, facing the wind.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against a stone wall, rubbing out the creases in her forehead. It was foolish to think she could avoid her own kind for the rest of her life, especially when she’d joined a career that tended to reek of werewolves. But it had never been to this degree, there were so many around the base now, so many conflicting scents that made her stomach tight with nausea. And what bothered her more was scent was the only way of detecting them, they truly were like shadows. They made little to no noise and lurked, shifting in and out of the darkness like a void.

Shifting again, her senses detect and alert her to light, slow steps approaching. With the wind against her, there wasn’t a scent so she fully turned, straightening her shoulders and growing alert to find who was approaching her. Quickly her eyes adjusted in the darkness and fell upon the commander of the Shadow Company, Phillip Graves.

“Sorry to startle ya, Lieutenant. I mean no harm.” The man put up his hands, trying to make himself less intimidating, but that was impossible with the rumors that surrounded him. Anyone who managed to lead a militant pack of werewolves naturally conjured fear. Especially to someone like her who didn’t belong to a pack or family line.

“Is there something I can do for you?” She knew she was easy prey, the runt of her father’s children. But she couldn’t imagine what interest Commander Graves would have in her. The direction of the wind changed, she could pick up his scent now, swallowing hard as she inhaled the smell of pine needs, the sweat on his skin, and an unfamiliar scent that clung to all the soldiers she’d passed by from the Shadow Company.

“No need to be so stiff Lieutenant. I’m just gettin’ a breath of fresh air. The downside of our lycanthropy.” Graves said, keeping his posture casual and unguarded, attempting to ease the tension. She cringed at his statement but nodded in agreement. There was a curiosity about the man who stood in front of her, who’d successfully built a militant company from the ground up, which had an impressive reputation. He clicked his tongue, kicking his feet into the dust before looking back up at her. “I’m curious to know something, Lieutenant, if I may ask?”

“Of course sir.” Hesitantly she responded, still standing alert even though he was showing himself to be not, at least to her, a threat.

“I’ve seen your record, it’s quite impressive.” Graves said watching as she uncomfortably shifted at the knowledge. “But I must admit, I’m intrigued by the fact that there seems to be no record of you ever shifting, to any degree, on the field. Most soldiers that are like us, hone the ability to partially phase. But you don’t seem to at all, if it weren’t for your smell, I would’ve never suspected you were a werewolf.”

“I have my reasons.” She all but snapped, recoiling quickly. Even if she didn’t like his questions or pressing, he was a higher-ranking soldier and all too friendly with her commanding officer. It was unwise for her to talk back to him in that tone.

To her relief, he didn’t seem to care. “I’m sure you do. There’d be a problem on our hands if you didn’t have a reason.” The sentence ended with a light chuckle, but she continued to frown at him, furrowing her brows. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Lieutenant?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters because I was hoping to offer you a place with the Shadow Company. You’ve got clear potential, anyone can see that. The officers here can see that. But you’d be better suited with your own, there’d be no reason to hide, no reason to keep taking the suppressants the military insists you take, and maybe you’d find some pride in your phasing and kind.” Graves finished, folding his arms and narrowing his gaze. “We both know the chances of getting further than your current rank are low. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Bein the inferior?”

“I’m not interested, Commander Graves. I’m fine where I am.” She knew his statement was true, very few of her kind made it past her rank. The rest were snuffed out like an old match that no longer served a purpose.

“If you ever change your mind,” His voice was cool, the demeanor shifting subtly enough to kick her body back into high alert. “I’m always recruiting.”

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The ringing in her ears had grown painfully loud, like a drill in her head as Frost gasped for air, panting like a rabid dog as she turned her radio on, hoping it hadn’t been destroyed in the chaos and rubble that’d pinned her down. Her instincts begged her to shift, to defend herself from more harm. But she ignored the pain in her legs, forcing herself to speak into the radio for help. “Delta 0-2 to operator, requesting backup and exfil for my team.”

The intel had been rotten, leading them into a dog fight against the enemy who’d blown their entire facility while her team had swept through. In the chaos, most of the radios had gone down, she’d been separated from team, and encased from the torso down in rubble, shrapnel barely missing her organs. She prayed silently that her message would go through, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she waited for a response.

The radio cracked to life, the operator speaking to her through the static. “Operator to Delta 0-2, the Shadow Company is following in on your location, stand by for evacuation.” The operator told her before the radio went dead.

The gun in her hand sat like a useless prop, she was defenseless and separated from her team. Through the ringing, she could hear their gunfire in the distance, and beyond that, the distinct piercing sound of howls. Closing her eyes, Frost tried to focus on her breathing, on keeping some sense of calm to not shift. But the closer the Shadow Company got, the harder it was, she could smell the adrenaline, the excitement in their voices, the thrill of a hunt and mission. Like a dog offered a bone.

She forced her eyes open as that same pine needle scent filled her senses, blocking out all the gunpowder and gore. And as much as she hated to admit it, Commander Graves’ arrival was a sweet relief.

“Hello Lieutenant, fancy meetin’ you here.” Frost rolls her eyes at the man and his Texas drawl. “You look like you could use some assistance.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” She asks as Graves whistles out. Almost immediately two Shadows appear on either side, making quick work to clear away the rubble. In awe, she watched, noticing the smallest shift in their appearance and structure. They by no means looked like the werewolf appearance she was used to, but they looked so human despite the oddities. It reminded her of her father, and his ability to phase, something she’d never been able to achieve despite him trying to force it upon her.

Frost shuddered as the last of it was removed from her legs, leaving the limbs numb and limp as she attempted to pull herself up. Despite the supernatural healing lycanthropy provided, Frost found herself back on the rough ground.

“Let me help you,” Graves says, offering his arm for support. He watched her hesitate, a grin crossing his face. “Worried I’ll bite?”

"Something like that.” But she knew better than to act stubborn in a time like that, so she hoisted herself to her feet with his arm, hand clasped around his gloved one. Being so close to him, and in the bright daylight, she got a better image of his face, the sandy brown hair and light stubble, blue eyes as deep as the sea, and a distinct scar on his face that resembled clawing. There was a story behind it, she was sure, the type of story most people would shy away from.

He stops behind a wall, listening to the chaos over the radio, surveying the area beyond. A frown slipped over his face. “Vance, Dipaolo, exfil’s getting rerouted north, there’s too much noise on these damn comms to get a clear message through, find Oz, spread the word to our men and the Marines.”

“Yup-yup.” The two soldiers disappeared quickly, leaving the two alone, and despite all the outer noise, the sound of her pounding heart in her battered ribs. She watched as they darted away like black spots in her vision before turning back to look at Graves.

“I will say, Commander, I’m impressed by your men. They’re making quick work of cleaning up my team’s mess.” She says, turning her attention to keeping herself steady, even with his arm securely wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her standing. Frost realized if it hadn’t been for the Shadow Company at the ready to sweep in and help, she would’ve been a deer in headlights in the position she’d been trapped in.

“That sounds like you’re reconsidering my prior offer, Lieutenant.” There’s a smug look on his face that she scowls back at. “You’d be able to test your limits.”

The Marines had been her escape, freedom, and a chance to see a new world. It had shaped her into the person she was, and its scars had covered the ones left by her father. But the offer was tempting, like forbidden fruit, a chance to free herself from the restrictions put in place by the government. A chance to see what she was capable of, with no person or thing to hold her back. A chance to find a world where she belonged. But was she willing to take the risk? To dive into the unknown with no return?

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“If you decide that the Marines aren’t worth your time anymore,” Graves pulls the patch off his shoulder while they sit in the dim interior of the black hawk, handing it over to her. “Give me a call.” Frost took a good look at the patch, tracing the embroidered motto with her thumb. “I don’t know if you’re being foolish or not, trying to convince me to join. For all you know, I could wreck your plans.” “Well, I’ve always been a bit of a gambler, Lieutenant. I enjoy a risk.” He chuckles, a sense of pride in his voice and a gleam in his eyes. Frost paused, realizing the dangers and uncharted territories Phillip Graves would lead her into. Gambling had never been her game, but there was always a chance at a winning hand.

taglist @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus

[euphoric-dramione]

That One Dramione Fic That Broke Me.

I’ve been thinking about this fic (The Sun, The Moon, The Truth—hereinafter TSTMTT) for the past week, since I finished reading it, and I realized that I need to write out my thoughts or else I’ll explode. For anyone who’s ready to type ‘BUT YOU CANNOT REVIEW FANFICTION’ this is not a review. This is an analysis.

You know how video essayists sometimes start their videos with a quote from the film or a book that they then go on to analyze, followed by an impactful pause? Imagine that this is a video essay. And it begins now.

[ff: The Sun, The Moon, The Truth by fantomas]

Be a tree, a fearful tree and timid,

Ne’er know peace of heart but tremble always.

Let the rain torment you without mercy

Let the wind pull madly at your tresses.

(From TSTMTT Interlude: The Lovers)

[Pause.]

The first chapter of TMTSTT was published on ao3 on November 2023, and I’ve been it’s loyal reader ever since. When the uploads paused in May, I reread the first three Acts over and over again, looking for clues, trying to guess what was going to happen next. Not to brag, but I guessed a lot. Not because I’m Sherlock Holmes, but because there were clues in every single chapter, and because this fic uses literary techniques that are evident to a seasoned scholar like me. Everything was thought out. The characters, the metaphors, the complex nature of the narrative itself.

The story follows Hermione as she wakes up from a months-long coma with no memory of the last ten years. Harry tells her that she’d spent the two years leading up to the coma in the hands of the mysterious Phantom—the man whose identity is unknown to both Harry and Hermione, and who, as Harry says, held Hermione as his captive, raping and torturing her. But the truth is not as it seems—when the Phantom kidnaps her again, Hermione starts to remember what truly happened to her. And it is one of the most trippy and terrifying journeys.

Memory is a tricky thing. It is a peculiar and fragile construct, shaped as much by our perceptions as by reality itself. It is both a map of our past and a filter through which we understand the present, yet it is unreliable—a patchwork of moments stitched together by emotion, bias, and time. Trauma can fracture it, leaving behind jagged edges and dark voids, while love can amplify or distort it, softening painful truths into something bittersweet. Memory is not just about what we recall; it’s about what we choose to forget, what our minds protect us from, and what might lurk in the shadowed corners, waiting to resurface. In the forests and castle of Hermione’s mind palace, the truth is not what it seems, so much so that we never truly find out what the truth is. Is the Phantom evil? Is Harry evil? Is Hermione evil? Who can say?

I tried to draw a scheme of the time loops in this fic, and what i got were quote some earrings—the snake eating its tail, which, I would argue, is one of the main ideas of this fic. This snake shows up as a metaphor numerous times, and twice—as an actual snake. Time is just as subjective as memory, and just as personal. In this fic, the past, present and future all exist in the same timeline, which immediately makes me think of Saint Augustine’s philosophy. Saint Augustine is one of my favorite philosophers, and he claimed that at any given point in time of the present when we think about the past or the future we can ever only think about it from the point of view of that moment when we think about it. That is, if we think about the past, there is always only present past, because when we thought about the past in the past, there was only past past. The same applies to this fic. The non-existence of the boundaries of time and space are hard to see in the flashback chapters, and yet even in the smallest of glimpses, it is quite effective: one of the first instances is when Hermione sees her self on the other side of the river, battered and bruised, and we know that this is the Hermione from act one, that is Hermione from the future, because we read an identical scene in act one. Flashback Hermione is followed around by a ghost of a Death Eater—that Death Eater is guilty for George’s accidental death and for many other things that happen to Hermione, and although it is never clearly stated whether that Death Eater ghost is Draco from the future, I think it’s safe to say that it is. The Death Eater ghost is the same Phantom that haunts Harry and makes him lose his mind—he comes from the future, yet he affects the present. There also an interesting tid bit of Narcissa describing flashback Draco as PhantomDraco which makes us wonder whether she can also see into the future or whether the time frames have blurred in her eyes too. My favorite blurring of the boundaries of time and space, however, is the scene where Draco meets Hermione’s ghost a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts. The ghost is from the future. She starts haunting him from then on, awoken by her own name coming from his lips. The story takes a full circle when we realize that Hermione haunts Draco because he’s the one who killed her and she is only visible to him because he ate her. This story is wild, isn’t it? The tragedy lies in the fact that Draco did everything he could to keep Hermione alive so she wouldn’t come back to haunt him, get eventually it is his actions that cause the string of events that lead to her becoming his personal ghost.

One thing I noticed was the use of seasons, weather. There was lots of mention of snow, water and ice, then fire, heat, flames. There was also a lot of metaphorical usage of the sun and the moon, which makes sense because it is in the title, but while reading I kept wondering what was the reason for it. In part one, snow, ice, and water symvolize Hermione’s inability to fully feel the consequences of her trauma and her “frozen” sense of self. The water reflect her deep yearning to recover what she had lost. There is a particularly vivid scene in one of the earliest chapters when Hermione where she watches the river flow by as she reflects on what happened to her. However, these memories are also “frozen,” which is why the water is cold, and there is ice in the river. The pivotal element moving forward in act two is fire. It is the first thing she pays attention to when she finds herself in the Manor. In later chapters of act two, Astoria’s funeral fire awakens one of the most deep-seated, although false memories hidden in Hermione’s mind. Fire gradually melts the ice and snow confining Hermione’s mind and sense of identity. In the last chapter of act two, when the drawing room is set on fire, the flames make Hermione remember the truth. If we dare call it the truth.

I don’t think it’s that important to explain the meaning of the sun and the moon, and in this fic that meaning is quite traditional, the moon standing for something that is hidden (half of Harry’s face in the moonlight, the other half hidden—chapter one), and the sun is symbolizing clarity and rebirth, and is mostly embodied by Draco as he is often described as illuminated by sunlight, even if his eyes resemble “two full moons”. You might disagree that he is the good one, and he isn’t, BUT. Although we can never be sure what the truth of Hermione is, we can be sure that Draco was and always will be the key to that truth because he is the mastermind, he is the one in control, he knows the truth and is ready to do anything to be the only one to know it, so much so that he kills the old witch who tells him his future in fear that she might tell his secrets to others. He also symbolizes rebirth because he literally is reborn after he makes a horcrux—his physical appearance changes, making him terrifying and overwhelming—and he is also a vessel for Hermione’s transformation, as she becomes a ghost after going through his digestive system. In one way or both ways, Draco is the key to both of theirs immortality.

Transformation, in my eyes, is another key aspect of this fic. Not only Hermione’s aforementioned transformation, but Draco and Harry’s too. Let’s talk about Harry now. He is the only side character who gets whopping two chapters from his POV, same as Draco, which puts him into a position of being as important of a character as Draco, and just as mysterious. (And just as evil. Or really?) Harry, unlike other characters, goes through his transformation early on in the story while Hermione and Draco are still in tact. He transforms into his mad-self when Hermione accidentally flips a stone of the Hogwarts castle on top pf him and George. George dies, fuelling Hermione’s eternal guilt, while Harry survives, suffering a months-long comatose state, which mirrors Hermione’s coma that she wakes up from after he tortures her. After waking up, Harry is eerily different, yet not so different as to make Hermione believe he’s evil. Although Hermione convinces herself that Harry did not die in the accident, Harry claims that she did. Although Harry says that he doesn’t blame her for what happened, Hermione blames herself. Harry’s corruptive transformation ascends slowly and mostly off-page, yet we know where his way leads to even though we have no proof of him doing anything wrong, ever.

Harry becomes tortured with visions of the future, and knowing what is going to happen to him, he tries, just like Draco, to do everything he can to turn the wheel of fate sideways, yet, just like Draco’s, his visions come true. Knowing the future doesn’t protect one from it. Here is where Macbeth comes in. It is very literally mentioned in one of the conversations where Draco and Hermione talk about Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and as they talk about them, we readers feel as if they’re talking about themselves. Having Macbeth as an intertext only furthers the feeling of inevitable doom.

The fate is inescapable. There is a god, or a higher power, that controls these characters as if they were puppets on strings. In numerous scenes, Hermione feels like she cannot control her body, that her body works on its own accord, as if someone would be in control of it. In the last chapter of act two, when she tries to kill PhantomDraco, yet her own hand turns her own wand against herself, is the scene which illustrates determinism in this fic the best. Determinism is the philosophical idea that all events, including human actions, are determined by prior causes and conditions, meaning everything happens because of something that came before it. Characters tried to do everything they can to escape their fate, yet they only end up solidifying the ineffability.

There are five characters, besides Harry and Draco, who get their own POV chapters, one for each—Blaise, Pansy, Daphne and Narcissa. These chapters serve a few purposes. The first is to show what an unreliable narrator Hermione is. Her understanding of the Slytherin gang as people is very limited, which makes sense and gives the story a sense of realism. Other people always have rich lives beyond what we perceive. The characters’ POV chapters reveal their inner lives and complex relationships with one another that Hermione doesn’t notice. The other purpose of these chapters is to show Draco from others’ POV. Apparently, all the other characters hate him because he is evil. In all the chapters, except these, Draco is shown to be kind and loving, but the key thing is that he’s like that when he’s with Hermione. When he’s with Blaise, or Astoria, or Pansy, he is an uncaring and egotistical monster. Blaise’s chapter is the first glimpse that we get of Draco’s true form. And we don’t get many chances like that. The third reason for these chapters is to show that characters mirror each other. I already mentioned that there are a lot of scenes that get repeated over and over again with some minor changes (symbolising the snake-like slithering of time and events), but the same applies to characters—they mirror Hermione, and each other. Blaise mirrors Hermione’s inability to take action when it comes to facing the truth (that Harry might be going mad; that the Order might be using her; that Draco is not what she thinks she is). Daphne mirrors Hermione later in life—upon their first meeting, Hermione judges Daphne for living inside a beautiful house with a murderer husband, growing flowers and taking care of Astoria without worrying about the state of the world; in act five, she becomes a wife locked in a house, growing flowers and taking care of Astoria (seemingly) without any other worries. Astoria, although without her own chapter, also mirrors Hermione even in the early chapters while they’re both sick. Their borderline-obsessive infatuation with Draco is a thing they have in common. Pansy mirrors Hermione’s wish to please others and to save the world in her own little ways (which, of course, never goes anywhere). Narcissa’s chapter is incredibly vivid and beautiful, and it mirrors the way Hermione’s mind gets wrecked in the later chapters.

Another thing to note is that these characters die without ever doing what they always wanted to do. Blaise dies after going mad and losing his mind, killing Daphne, the one person he swore to protect and save from the mess of war. Daphne dies being killed by the love of her life. Astoria, who spent her life in Blaise’s house wishing to get away and be back with her parents, dies begging Hermione not to move her, saying please, I don’t want to go. Pansy wishes to never lose herself, to never let evil take over her, and she dies as one of Harrys inferi, without a mind of her own, which in life was her greatest insecurity. Hermione dies from brain cancer caused by memory alteration, just like her mother. Narcissa dies by jumping off a balcony, just like Hermione’s father does after losing his daughter, just like Hermione attempts to do in the earlier chapter after “remembering” that PhantomDraco killed their daughter.

Now let’s talk about those god forsaken interludes. One folklore tale, one painting by William Blake, two poems, one heart-wrenching song, one play-like chapter… But firstly, I want to mention the epigraph which is a scene from the Bible, featuring one of the most well-known scenes of the great red dragon and the woman clothed with the sun. The woman is giving birth and the dragon awaits to eat the child. Many scholars interpret the dragon to be the devil, the woman to be Mary, mother of god, and the baby to be Jesus. This epigraph paints a picture of some evil threat hanging above Hermione, as of course, we interpret Hermione as the woman clothed with the sun. In the first act, there is some clever half-misdirection that makes us believe that Harry is the evil mastermind behind it all and that Draco is just a misunderstood antihero in love with Hermione, and so, having read this epigraph, we interpret that Harry is the dragon waiting to eat Hermione’s child. But then, in the later part of the fic, there is an interlude titled The Moon, which features the same exact scene as the epigraph, only in the form of the famous William Blake’s painting, although by then we have an entirely different context. The interlude follows after Draco creates a horcrux and turns into PhantomDraco, so right now, we interpret the bleached red dragon of Blake’s as Draco, while Hermione still remains the woman clothed with the sun, as Daphne titles her before dying.

But the very first interlude is a folktale The folktale Spruce, the Queen of Serpents of Spruce, the youngest daughter of a poor family, who is forced to marry a magical grass snake after promising to do so under pressure. The snake transforms into a handsome prince, and they live happily in an underwater palace, raising four children. When Spruce visits her family, her brothers trick her youngest daughter, Little Aspen, into revealing the prince’s name, which they use to summon and kill him. In grief, Spruce curses Aspen to forever tremble in fear as a tree, while her brave sons become mighty trees, standing tall beside their mother, who is also transformed into the Spruce tree. This tragic tale mirrors the one of Draco and Hermione, and even of their daughter, gifting us a glimpse into how it’s going to end, yet it’s not an exact copy of the folktale, it only serves as a metaphor, and also makes us root, undeservingly, for Draco, in belief that he is the lover. Another epigraph which is foreshadowing is the poem also by William Blake “The Sick Rose” which foreshadows that Hermione is going to be sick and that she’ll die. Another poem is “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath which tells a story of a woman who dies and dies and yet resurrects each time. This interlude is right before the epilogue, where we find out that Hermione became Draco’s ghost. The character of Lady Lazarus solidifies the fic’s biblical imagery. The interlude of the song, Poison Tree by groupie, is another William Blake moment, as it is inspired by a poem of the same name. In author’s note, it says: “[the song] uses metaphor, antithesis, and biblical associations to highlight the self-damage that can proceed from suppressing anger. The emphasis is on letting go of negative emotions and moving on with life before this energy impacts the health and well-being of others. This poem is an extended metaphor – the wrath (anger) becomes a tree, a fruit, a poison apple.” Again, this ties up the loose ends with biblical imagery, the symbol of a tree, and anger that Hermione feels towards Harry and everyone else who harmed her, Draco included. It precedes right before Hermione gains back her memories.

At last, why the hell are the chapters named after Tarot cards, you may ask? This is perhaps the simplest question I can answer. As per my interpretation, Tarot cards represent something that is written in the stars, coded in fate, something that is while possible to foresee, impossible to avoid. Each chapter being a Tarot card tells us one more time that this story won’t end well and that nothing that will happen cannot be avoided.

[blue-the-bluest]

03/05/88: Lcheu's Genesis no.3

The curse has gone on for far too long now, bringing upon us much suffering and pain. For months, we have sent two individuals by our order, either to understand the severity of this curse or to try and break it, but so far we have yet to receive any feedback from them. I had to try hard not to fall victim to such a grotesque illness that seemed to be growing harsher with each passing day. I responded immediately, taking medications as prescribed and resting for many days, calming the monster inside me. After much research and hard work, I found out about this dark secret - the curse was created by the devil himself. But it can still break all of us if we don't take care of each other in these times, I think I am able to contain it within me for a while so that it does not affect others, but I know that I may not last forever and eventually, this dark ink will end up spilling on us all.

It's been almost a week now since the two partners went off for their investigation, and I can feel something generally unpleasant hovering in the air, like a lurking virus. The symptoms of this mysterious illness have been getting more and more dangerous - starting off from severe headaches and nausea, to worse things such as dizziness, vomiting, and even inability to breathe. Worse yet, an infected person may even become paralyzed as a result of this illness. It's a worrying situation, but I can't help that feel that this curse is somewhat related to the two partners, especially the demon. But of course, I'm not getting ahead of myself - he's also fallen ill and suffering from this condition, so I'm not going to make any premature judgment whatsoever.

I have seen firsthand the effects of the terrible illness that has been ravaging our community. The illness has 3 stages, the first being severe headaches, nausea and dizziness which can last anywhere from an hour to a whole day. I only experienced the first stage myself, but I have seen at least one person suffer through the second stage which includes vomiting blood, violent breathing, and partial paralysis. The last stage is a death sentence, and there are more and more cases of this illness appearing with no end in sight.

The only available feedback we have on the illness comes from the brave few individuals who have witnessed the second and third stages. Without such individuals providing insight into their experiences, we are left to assume the worst about what the future holds. I am sending out a plea to anyone out there who may be able to help us by providing information and advice on this horrible illness.

Our lives depend on it.

-Scientist Ortensia Cat for the general initiative Economic science and Disease department

[adoriels-tears-if]

How would Ashlyen and Elianna's react would react if they encounter a person who said they predicted the future yelling in the streets saying that

‘ in the future their will be will a hybrid revolution born of fear and hatred and they will bring death and destruction and they will not stop until we all feel their pain’

and as they describe the leader of this revolution they all perfectly describe the MC and they also said

‘ wait I can sense one of the parents who is responsible for spawning this devil if you can hear us I hope you realise that your forbidden love had doomed us all’

Five meters is all that separates Elianna from Ashlyen as they both walk the cobblestone streets of the city overlooked by the Academy.

Five meters only. But it is much more than all the distances which could separate them these last two months. The subtle glances, and the hidden smiles became more and more insufficient to stifle the feelings of the young woman.

As she turned left onto a narrower street, Ashlyen was pulled close to her by the influx of a group of dwarves. The two lovers' fingers touch and a voice call them to order indirectly.

"A rebellion and death to us all! Can't you see that? That is what awaits us all if you continue with your idea of upsetting the natural order!" The man’s voice was a thunderclap in the serene afternoon, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot.

Elianna's blood ran cold through her veins. They'd have to turn back, she knew, but her feet refused to move.

She watched almost as if in a trance as the figure climbed the low wall and spouted what seemed to her to be nonsense. So concentrated that she almost doesn't feel Ash's presence beside her.

The man, disheveled and wild-eyed, stood atop a low wall, his arms flailing as he addressed the gathering crowd. "Hear me, citizens! The path you tread leads only to ruin! The stars themselves have whispered of the darkness to come. A rebellion will rise, and with it, the shadow of death will fall upon us all!"

"His gaze swept over the onlookers, eyes blazing with a fervor that sent shivers down Elianna’s spine. "The natural order is delicate! It is the balance that keeps our world from collapsing into chaos! Those who seek to change it, to twist it to their own desires, will bring nothing but despair and destruction! Betrayal lurks in the heart of our city, and blood will spill if we do not heed the warnings!"

The words echoed in her mind, mingling with her own fears and doubts. Ashlyen's touch grounded her, but her thoughts were still a whirlwind. A shiver ran down her spine.

Ashlyen tugged at Elianna’s hand, trying to pull her away. "We need to go," he whispered, his voice urgent. "He’s just a madman, but we don’t need to be here when things get worse." Elianna turned to him, eyes wide with fear. "Do you think he knows? About us, I mean?"

Ashlyen shook his head, his grip tightening on Elianna's hand. "No. He’s just spouting nonsense. But we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves." Reluctantly, Elianna nodded. They began to move away, their steps quickening as the man’s shouts grew more frenzied. The crowd around them buzzed with anxious energy, people whispering and glancing nervously at each other.

"Hey," Ashlyen said softly, pulling her into a side alley away from the commotion. "Look at me. Don’t let him get to you. We’ve been through worse, and we’ll get through this too."

Elianna took a deep breath, nodding. "You're right. Let’s focus on what we can control." Ashlyen smiled, leaning in to kiss her gently. "Exactly. Now, let's get somewhere safe and figure out our next move."

With a final glance back at the chaos in the street, they hurried away.

[barelytolerabled]

Lost Chances

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: you finally express your feelings toward spencer not expecting anything

Warnings: none, not an happy end?

WC: 634

Taglist: @envraijesaispas @rosecentury @taygrls @thisismeraki @thenerdthatwrites @bigbunnygucci @jordie-gvf @cynbx @saturnstringz

a/n: let me know if you guys would like a part 2!!

As the moon cast its soft glow over the empty BAU office, you found yourself alone with Spencer Reid. It was an unusual occurrence, given the chaotic nature of your work and the constant presence of your colleagues. But tonight, the two of you had stayed behind, caught up in an intense discussion about the latest case.

Sitting side by side at his desk, the familiar warmth of friendship lingered between you, but so did an unspoken tension. You had been best friends for years, sharing everything from laughter to tears, but there was always something more lurking beneath the surface.

"I'm not in love with you anymore," you breathed, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, but it was tinged with sadness, knowing that you had carried this hidden affection for Spencer for far too long.

Spencer's expressive eyes widened, searching your face for a sign of deception. The flicker of confusion on his features was soon replaced by a tinge of sadness, and the realization settled in his gaze that he had been oblivious to your feelings. "I didn't know you ever were," he replied softly, his voice laced with regret and a hint of longing.

His response cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The connection you shared, the unspoken bond, had led you down this path, but now it seemed you had taken a wrong turn. Perhaps it was too late to salvage what you once thought could have been.

"I never said anything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was afraid, Spencer. Afraid of losing what we had. But now, it feels like I've lost something anyway."

His eyes never left yours, locked in a gaze that held years of memories and unspoken words. Slowly, he reached out and placed a hand on top of yours, offering a gesture of comfort in this bittersweet moment. "I'm sorry, I never knew," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I never realized what we could have had. If I had realized, I would have done things differently, so differently..."

A tear slipped down your cheek, betraying the depth of your emotions. "I didn't want to risk our friendship," you confessed, your voice trembling with the weight of missed opportunities. "But now, I can't help but wonder what could have been."

Spencer's thumb gently brushed away your tear, his touch tender and full of unspoken longing. "I understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It is hard not to feel a sense of loss. To know that we could have had something amazing, something beautiful, and it slipped through our fingers."

Silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the remnants of shattered possibilities. The night stretched on, the only sounds filling the room were the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of your hearts.

In that moment, you both realized the depth of your connection and the pain of lost chances. The road not taken haunted you, but it also held a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this conversation was the catalyst needed to explore the depths of your feelings.

As the night drew to a close, you found solace in knowing that even though the timing may have been off, the bond you shared would always be there. It would take time to heal the wounds left by unspoken confessions, but the foundation of your friendship would remain steadfast.

And who knew? Perhaps, in the future, the stars would align once again, granting you both the chance to rewrite your story with a different ending—one filled with love, courage, and the possibility of a love that had been silently yearned for all along.

[iamyoursonly]

The ghost inside me (17/02/2024)

I may not be active again for awhile because it’s almost the end of the holidays and school will be back :(( This is a story I wrote when I felt really confused and didn’t know what to do so, if you ever felt the same, I think you’ll like it.

Sometimes I feel like there is a ghost lurking inside of me, like it wants to devour me starting with drinking all my positivity away. It’s like a shadow that you can see but cannot touch, one that just follows you through every step of your life, unconditionally. But this time, in a bad way. It’s feels like I have lost touch over everything, and there are no ‘sparks’ between anything that comes in my way, no matter my hobbies, my favourite people or even my comfort show. I couldn’t even feel the tears leaking past the boundaries of my eyes. I just sit there, emotionless, just like a puppet put up for show, questioning myself, ‘Who even am I?’

I breathe as I walk down the streets while I was on a midnight stroll, the wind feeling extra chilly in Autumn made me shiver. Even so. I kept on walking. I held on a can on alcohol, talking big sips out of the can, just trying to stop myself from feeling numb. I couldn’t feel anything despite my stomach burning in opposition. I just kept on drinking, until I felt like I could see that ghost inside of me come out.

“What do you want from me?” I ask it, trying to maintain my posture and a proper mind.

It just looked at me, its glance chilly and cold as ever. Like it’s staring into my soul and was trying to eat me whole. Its existence alone was enough to make me freeze and not ask more.

“What do you want from me?” I repeat, hoping it would respond. But its gaze still cold as ever, and all I could see was its eyes. Black, so black like it was reflecting the depth of the sadness within me. The overwhelming amount of feelings inside me started to explode as tears started gushing out of my eyes. I cried my heart out until the streets echoed my cries.

The ghost walked over to me, its steps heavy yet it can’t be heard at all, only its footsteps can be seen on the wet concrete. As if it could understand my feelings, it wrapped its arms around me, hugging me tight, just like how a parent would while comforting their child. Yes, that’s what it feels like right now. Like future me telling me everything will turn out fine and I will be okay.

I cried and cried, but the tears only fell through it as I try to return its warm embrace.

“Who are you?” I croak out, my voice hoarse and heart sore. Then I just attempt to scream out all my pain and sorrow into nothingness, into a black void no one could reach. Though the ghost’s stare is cold, its embrace is warm and soothing… How I wish to be held by someone like that.

I lie down on the concrete, tired eyes looking up into the darkness of the night. I could feel the ghost do the same as me, it holding my hand as we lie in silence. I didn’t say anything, we were just enjoying each other’s calm serenity, our calming atmospheres. I almost dozed off after lying down for so long, why is the feeling of home lying within the ghost, one so mysterious I can’t even learn anything about it.

“Who are you?” I ask again, my tears have stopped, though my mascara has been ruined already.

It still did not respond, its eyes just looked into mine, as if it were exploring mine, and uncovering my deepest secrets and insecurities. The terrifying silence seemed like it was wrapping around us, but I loved every moment of it.

Being alone and feeling alone are two different things, I believe. Being alone is like when I am actually alone, but feeling alone is when I am in a crowd but I still feel like no one is around me. And I feel alone. Not because I have no one around me, but because I have no one that understands me, no one that I can truly trust and confide in. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to be in love or do I just like the feeling of love. Is it just for me to numb away all the loneliness and to drive away all this soreness in my body and soul?

As I sit straight on the ground, tired from all the lying down. I feel the cold on my legs as I slowly try to stand up. I took a breathy sigh as I looked up again, checking if the stars are still around. They were, of course, still shining brighter than ever. The view of the night sky was simply divine to spectate when alone, and most importantly with a can of alcohol. I spin around a few times, twirling my knee length dress as I try to dance. I sang so loud I feel like people would file a noise complaint against me. But who cares? I was having so much fun!

“You have definitely had too much to drink.” I hear a voice, then footsteps nearing. The ghost near me seemed like it disappeared, leaving me again in the terrifying loneliness.

“Wait!” I try to call out to the ghost. The cold wind blew as if it was never there, and I felt alone again.

“Love,” The voice called again, then I feel them put their jacket onto my shoulders. Oh this scent, I remember it oh so well. It only belonged to my one and only, and he was so beautiful I swear. “How are you feeling, my love?”

His blue eyes as if reflecting the beauty of the sea looked into mine. And I just stared right back at him, just like what the ghost did to me. I have never noticed how much detail there is in his eyes, the blue may have been alluring at first glance, but after a lot of searching into it, you could see its sorrow inside. He reminded me of the ghost just now, the amount of sorrow in their eyes seemed the same, and how they both make me feel like I was home.

“Hey,” I looked at him and finally smiled, “What’re you doing here?”

Instead of drowning in loneliness, I wish I could drown in his arms, his touch, and his love. His eyes captivating, like he could draw all the attention in a club just because he walked in. And his white hair, it was so unique I wish I could have that… But I guess I can’t.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I tell him, “I wish I could have that kind of beauty.”

He chuckled, and then played with strands of my hair, “You’re even more beautiful, I swear. You’re just saying all this because you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not, I’m serious.” I tell him, then he smiles even more, pulling me into a hug.

After a long pause of silence, where I just let him embrace me, trying to remove myself from this feeling of being alone. He was helping though, he didn’t even make a sound, and just hugged me tight. His smell filling my lungs. I swear even the ghost inside me could feel warm just from this scent of his. That’s how intoxicating it is.

“Satoru.” I whisper, he hums in reply, “Remind me why do you love me again?”

He laughed, then rolled his eyes playfully as if he was trying to be sarcastic, “Do I not make it obvious enough for your liking?” That smirk on his face when he said this made everything very vivid in my head. His scent, his gaze… All of it. He was definitely trying to make me flustered, though I’m not letting him win.

He starts speaking again, “Well to start with I really love your smile, your beauty and your features. Also the way your eyes brighten when you do something you enjoy, and the way you laugh even though you fail. I love how you are so humble towards everything and try not to burden anyone with your problems. Though I’m right here for you, love. And then it’s just you, you’re literally perfect. Even the way you sing so loudly in the shower. I should say I don’t deserve you because of how amazing you actually are.” He pauses, and I took in his words. Then he continues, “Butterflies can’t see how beautiful they are either, and I’m just one of the flowers for this beautiful butterfly.”

He smiles at me, that contagious smile put a smile on my face too. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud uncontrollably. It was so unexpected but really genuine.

“Stop laughing would you?” He said with a very visible blush on his face, “Let’s just get you home, yeah?”

I nodded and he held my hand so tight like he had no intention of letting go of me. We just trailed down slowly down the road, the wind continued blowing towards us. I skipped and skipped then almost tripped, though there was nothing to worry about because my big strong man is with me. For a second, I felt like a fairytale princess, but I felt bad about leaving all my sorrow behind with the ghost.

I grabbed his arm, leading him to stop for a second, “I just wanted to bid my ghost goodbye. Can you wait for a second?” He didn’t object, so I just walked back to where I first sat down, and the shadow was there again. Though this time its eyes were less dull, it had this little shine somewhere inside. “Bye bye.” I waved, and it waved back, as if it was happy that I have found my own pillar of joy. I walked back to Satoru, and he held my hand as we walked home.

Despite it was so late there was barely any light source, the joy within me while walking with Satoru seemed like the lighthouse for going home. The joy reflected in his and my eyes led the road back home. Just from this I knew that he’s the one for me, and that we could overcome any difficulties in life together. Because all I could do when I am around him, is smile.

I walked home only by myself, but I arrived home with another person, one that I love and treasure so much.

master list

[guiltywisdom]

What is meant by forgiveness in the Orthodox Church? My church always told me to forgive. They were very judgmental about my not forgiving. To spare you triggering details, my parents were killed and I nearly died during a burglary gone wrong. I have mostly conquered the blinding rage that induced. I have never stopped feeling angry to at least some degree. I will never cease to resent this woman for what she did. I will never run around going, "Oh I hope she turns it all around" or "if I saw her I would tell her I forgive her". What she did was inexcusable. It wasn't necessary. She did it because it was fun for her. She laughed. She giggled. She mocked us.

People say I need to forgive. I don't know what they mean. Am I meant to stop being angry at the injustice? Because this was an injustice and knowing she's out there, uncaught, disquiets me. She could hurt someone else. Am I meant to try to understand why she did it? I'm a psychology major now and I still don't understand it. If I'm meant to absolve her of responsibility for her actions, I refuse. I just refuse. I'll never say it wasn't her fault. It was. People say it will be healthy of me to forgive. Is it truly healthy to say, "It's fine that she killed my parents and stabbed me twenty one times"?

The only way I can imagine saying something like that is if I believed we deserved it. I do not. I don't believe anyone deserves that, including her and her theoretical family.

This has basically destroyed my relationship with my old church and churches as an institution. I cannot wrap my mind around what it is I'm even being asked to do. And I find it insulting that person after person hears that my parents were murdered and tell me the onus is on me to forgive. No one ever says the onus is on her to repent for what she did or make amends or turn herself in. It's always just myself who's in the wrong. I'm the one who got hit with condemnation. Maybe it's a Southern US thing, maybe it's a Baptist thing. I don't know. But God is mercy and love and there is neither in people when they turn to me and judge me for reacting incorrectly to the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I love God and I love my relationship with God. I don't know if I can form a relationship with any church. I like Orthodoxy, the services are peaceful and the people seem nice, but this lurks in the back of my head. I don't want to be a part of a church where if people found out about this, they would turn to me and act like I'm the problem.

What does Orthodoxy say I'm supposed to do? What does it mean to forgive? And why am I supposed to do it?

In Orthodoxy, God forgives but he only forgives the repentant. To be truly forgiven by God one must completely recognise the error of their ways and to make future actions in order to try and fix as much as they can. God does not forgive those who do not ask for it. God will not accept empty words.

We on the other hand forgive because it unburdens our souls. Yes we are called to forgive but forgiving isn't to stop believing the act was wrong, for you were wronged. It also doesn't come easy nor quickly, it is a lifetime process to forgive your enemy but it is not for the one who did the crime but for the victim. To forgive is to release yourself from the pain. She should make amends, she should repent; God demands it.

God also demands us to seek justice, to plead for the widow, to defend the orphan, to rescue the oppressed. We are called to become like God, so we forgive but we do not forget. To attempt to forgive is the point. Even if we fail. Even if we can't ever let it go. Even if it isn't deserved.

I'm sorry my sibling in Christ that such a horrible tragedy befell you; above all we are called to be compassionate in Orthodoxy, we are called to be filled with love and that should be our first thought for you.

[wannaberp]

— ADMINISTRATIVE CHANGES !

hi wannabes! there are a few changes to our admin team that we wanted to share with you. first, the bad news: admin maru has decided to step down from our team. as one of our founders, wannabe would not exist without the contributions of maru and while she'll still be present as a regular wannabe, her presence on the admin team will be sorely missed. we'll keep her name on the main as homage to one of our founders, though it's modified to clarify that she is no longer an active part of the team.

a lovely note from maru can be found under the cut further explaining her situation and a few final words as an admin.

in much brighter news, we've decided to promote mod cinamoroll to a full-fledged admin to help fill in some of the gap left behind by maru's new absence. cinamoroll has been an incredible help to me (admin keroppi) with next gen as well as other events over the last several months. it's only right that we give her more creative control as she's done a fantastic job behind the scenes and understands the vision for the future of wannabe. cinamoroll will be helping me out with some administrative duties but will keep her focus primarily on running events more independently as we move forward.

we're also announcing that we will now be accepting mod applications- and we will continue to keep these applications open on a rolling basis. a lot of the same roles are still very much needed so if the form looks familiar, that would be why! if you submitted your interest before, please submit again so we know that you're still interested in helping out our team.

applications can be submitted here: LINK TO APPLICATION

as always, thank you for sticking with wannabe and continuing to be a wonderful community! we wouldn't exist without our amazing members and we couldn't be more grateful for your support.

hi darling wannabes! admin maru here with a bittersweet note; as of this activity check, i am officially retiring from my position here with wannabe. it has been a heckuva ride and i have loved every minute building and growing this wonderful, beautiful place with keroppi and it warms my heart to see that this brainchild continues to succeed year after year.

i don't think either of us really imagined that one day wannabe would become such a beloved place for so many, especially not when we were discussing how to tackle the unique challenges that come with a roleplay of this kind. but, thanks to you guys, here we are! and i wouldn't change a single thing that got us here.

while it pains me (and feels like i'm losing an organ) to admit, i'm no longer in a position in my personal life to be able to help out with wannabe, and will be leaving it in keroppi and cinnamoroll's very capable hands.

i adore our little team and i adore this community, so i will continue to be a part of our happy little roleplay and can be found lurking in the official wannabe discord or on any of my gals' blogs! (sooyoung, risa, yura)

be kind to keroppi and cinnamoroll, don't make their jobs too hard (unless it's for funsies), and see you all on the flipside

maru / nicole ♡

[ineffablefate]

Getting it all out...

I've been feeling strange and I just want to write it down so that it might stop bouncing around in my skull so much. I've been checked out and numb while also feeling anxious, helpless, and grieving deeply for the world.

I am overwhelmed with too much information, distrustful of almost all of it, intensely annoyed at the constant barrage of opinions, disagreements, demands, and incessant reactivity of my fellow humans. I feel disenchanted and disillusioned with myself, wondering if my former mystical experiences that fueled so much of my spiritual convictions were not simply weed-induced delusions of grandeur.

Intrusive thoughts goading me to commit senseless and spontaneous acts of violence have been at an all-time high, and my meditations and prayers seem to bear no fruit. My inspiration remains blocked, my desire to connect with others feels stunted, my hope for the future is bleak, and a sense of our collective impending doom lurks firmly on the horizon. It seems everyone else also senses this, but so few have the courage to stop what they're doing and truly band together to face it, to make any organized effort to stop it without devolving into useless and unhelpful arguments with each other.

My voice feels small and inconsequential in a sea of chaos, my wisdom is tired and worn out, and the old trick of letting go seems like a Sisyphus circuit that inevitably leads to hopelessly pushing the boulder back up the hill from the bottom again, for lack of anything else to do.

This is the darkest of it. There are glimmers of light and laughter and joy and romance and discovery with my partner. Moments of peace and short-lived reminders of growth, remembering this is as much a ridiculous comedy as it is a grave tragedy.

And on the surface, in the present, in my personal life, almost everything is great. I have an amazing woman who loves me dearly, wonderful friends and family who adore and support me, decent health, many gifts, the privilege to take a two month vacation through Europe.

And yet my own country seems to be barreling toward a second Civil War shamelessly instigated by its own political system while funding inhumane conflicts as well as providing aid to alleviate the damage done by them. The planet at large seems to be on the brink of a nuclear World War. Profits of large corporations are at an all time high and yet small businesses and lower class families are struggling to survive. A sane, humble, or wise leader is nowhere to be found, and instead we are force fed ego-driven, politic-pandering, mentally unwell old men who spew intentionally divisive rhetoric at every opportunity.

The National Guard is being called out to quell the overwhelming crime of some cities, dispatched in national paranoia to guard our southern border, and almost everywhere I look I see nothing but arrogant, fearful, self-righteous hypocrites demanding peace and respect in disrespectful tones of conflict, anger, and pride.

I know. I know. "It's darkest before the dawn." "This too shall pass." "It gets worse before it gets better." Too often I fear we are already in hell, and the devastation of it is such a slow burn that the build up itself, the long drawn-out stupidity, the stubborn refusal to shift course, the constant dangling carrot of hope and redemption is a clever part of its torture.

I only pray this fear is false. It may very well be that all these terrible things must come to pass, as a way of evolving the minds and hearts of humanity through intense suffering. I do intend to keep singing and dancing and laughing and loving and forgiving and letting go as I push my boulder up this hill. But God how I ache for us to drop all this nonsense and enjoy heaven on earth together. How deeply I wish we could just skip all the oncoming tragedy and senseless slaughter and havoc and pain. Haven't we all already suffered enough?

Whatever may come, I love you all. Despite all of this, I am somehow, someway, still doing well. And I'll push through. We all will.

May Love bless you.

Peace.