#huge man built like a train doing a little spin

[its-hai-time]

I got taken by pictures of pretty poses and now we’re here.

anyways aa skating au when

[kemakoshume]

Tell Me You Love Me — Yor Forger x Loid Forger

summary: "So, when are you two trying for a second?" shouldn't have caused the freight train of insecurity and imposter syndrome that dawned on Yor Forger, but it did.

Loid fixes that.

warnings; bullying, insecurities, family dynamics, loid... being so soft i love him, Yor's POV, oral (f!receiving), vaginal sex, breeding.

a/n: lmao me? character x character? on tumblr? wild. i wrote this in one big speed run today because i've been obsessed with this show and now the manga since i started it last week. i hope y'all enjoy this! it's my first c x c for a f/m relationship i think... ever lol. huge shout out to @craftycheetah for helping me out throughout writing this. thank you for the sex position website, i don't know what i would've done without it. now... enjoy all 8.8k words of this.

“So, Yor… when are you two trying for a second?”

The dark-haired beauty turned her head, spinning on the axis of her heels so fast that she almost lost her balance. Despite her practiced poised nature, Yor couldn’t help but gape helplessly as she scrambled to find her words. Under the weight of Camilla’s gaze, and her line of questioning, Yor was at a loss.

“So, Yor… when are you two trying for a second?”

The dark-haired beauty turned her head, spinning on the axis of her heels so fast that she almost lost her balance. Despite her practiced poised nature, Yor couldn’t help but gape helplessly as she scrambled to find her words. Under the weight of Camilla’s gaze, and her line of questioning, Yor was at a loss.

She stood in the middle of her co-worker's home with a glass of wine, surrounded by people lost in their own little worlds of conversation beneath the warm hue of decor lights and soft jazz-inspired music. She’d had the mind not to come. She knew she shouldn’t have come, but she’d had no choice. 

It was Camilla’s engagement party, and she’d never have heard the end of it if she and Loid hadn’t made an appearance. Their whole life together was built on maintaining the perfect image, so not coming would have spelled doom socially for their family in an instant. So, here Yor was again—playing in a den of lions donning ascots and top-dollar balayages.

“A second?” Yor asked, sipping nervously at her drink as her eyes subtly scanned the room.

Loid was speaking with some men a few feet away, looking as cordial as ever as he discussed the details of his casual chocolate-brown suit with an inquisitive friend of Dominic’s. His hair was imperfectly styled, just how he liked. Yor had molded with her own hands at his behest. 

He’d made an offhand comment about how nice her hair always looked, not a single lock out of place even with the free-flowing bangs she left out in the front. So, she did his hair for him. After a harrowing mission that left her unable to lift her arms for a week, he began doing her hair in return. Granted, he thought she’d injured herself lifting a box that was too heavy at work, but still. He accepted his role as an interim hairdresser with muted enthusiasm, and eventually, Anya joined the train. 

Every morning that they had enough time, they’d sit in the living room and help get one another groomed for the day. This morning was one of those mornings, and he looked every bit the polished handsome husband who knew how to treat his wife and child as a result.

He must have felt the weight of Yor’s eyes on him, even from across the room. He glanced over to meet his wife’s subtle stare, smirking with a slight nod in her direction before he turned his attention back to the man in front of him, listening intently as he droned on about the Eden Academy director’s love of fine suits.

Camilla’s eyes followed Yor’s line of sight over to Loid, and the woman stepped closer into Yor’s space until she was close enough that Yor could easily snap her n—touch her.

“Yes, a second. Well, a first for you, I suppose but a second for Loid. A baby is necessary at this point, don’t you think?” Camilla said, a coy curl at the corner of her lips as she moved her lithe hands animatedly to match her less-than-quiet words. “I assumed, with Loid’s previous entanglement, you’d want to lock things down as soon as possible. Sure, you got a ring and some useless paperwork, but any man who’s had a child with another woman will never truly be yours until you give him something of equal value.”

Yor furrowed her eyebrows, turning her attention to the blonde looking up at her with fire in her eyes as she sipped her wine.

“Equal value?” she said, glancing down into her glass and contemplating the odds of drowning someone in the liquid left in the cup.

“Yes, yes. Equal value. You see, dear Yor, his precious little girl will always take priority over you, and so will the memory of his wife. His real wife, not the placeholder that you’ve allowed yourself to be,” Camilla said, venom laced in the tip of her tongue. “You’re understandably replaceable until you give him something that makes you seem… well, a little less useless. Granted, he could always take the new baby and the old one and leave you by the wayside in the end. But, I’d like to think he would finally care about you if you gave him a child of your own. It's been over a year since you got married, love. Even the dead one would've managed to give him a kid by now. I’d hope you could do better than someone who’s not alive anymore.”

Hot blood rushed into the high points of Yor’s face, bathing her pale skin in a flush that she knew looked embarrassing from Camilla’s pleased expression. She got off on this—seeing Yor uncomfortable—and Yor hated that she’d allowed the woman to pull her in.

“That’s—that isn’t true,” Yor said, though her words lacked conviction, and Camilla jumped on the display of insecurity like a starved rat coming across a fromagerie in the heart of France.

“I’m glad you get to call him your husband, even if it’s just a title. It’s evident that he does not take you seriously if you’re not talking about having more kids. I wonder if he would still want you if his old wife were to walk amongst the living again.”

Yor felt her hand shaking around the stem of her wine glass, threatening to shatter the “shatterproof” glass into pieces. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade rosy red, and her eyes pricked with heat that felt unnatural on her face.

She opened her mouth to speak and no words came, only the beginning of what felt like a wretched sob that felt so jarringly alien in her throat. Yor didn’t cry. Not really, if ever. But still, there the tears were, threatening her with the weight of a loaded gun as they edged closer to spilling out from her eyelids.

“We’ll be going now.”

Yor sighed, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she held as Loid sauntered up to her side, placing one hand on her lower back while he motioned toward the door with the other.

“You were listening?” Yor said, blinking the wetness out of her eyes as she turned her head inward toward Loid’s shoulder. She used his body as a refuge to wipe the remnants of the tear trailing down her cheek in peace away from Camilla’s gaze.

The blonde fixed her stare on Loid instead, a blatant scowl on her face even as her boyfrie—no, fiancé now—walked up defensively behind her.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked, shaking her fiancé’s hand off of her shoulder when he attempted to touch her.

Loid scoffed, helping Yor into a lined faux fur jacket that hugged her nicely where the fabric was sleeker in the middle and accented her beautifully as the fur framed her face. He kept a pleasant smile as he grabbed their things—his wallet and Yor’s purse—from the closet behind them and he took Yor’s hand in his easily as he pulled her toward the door.

“Camilla, it’s truly remarkable to behold what deeply rooted inferiority looks like in human form. You exemplify the word in every way.”

The blonde huffed and Loid slinked past her with Yor tucked close to his side, keeping his eyes trained on the exit as they walked away from the growing scene.

“I only meant,” Camilla said toward their backs, hesitating for only a beat before steeling her resolve and speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear her. “I only meant that any man worth his salt would have already proven his love to his new wife. From what I've seen, you two act like roommates who co-parent. Maybe they’re secretly celibate, and that’s why they aren’t interested in more babies, huh, everyone? Why marry a woman you’re so obviously disgusted by, Loid? I have plenty of friends I’m sure would be willing to give a widower a chance. Anything would be better tha—”

“Camilla,” a voice said so darkly that both Loid and Yor stopped in their tracks. The sound of shaking breath became louder in the still air of the room as they turned around to see Camilla’s fiancé standing behind her with an expression so dark with shame that Yor found it hard to look at.

“I love you, and I’ve always loved you. I don’t think a universe exists where I wouldn’t fall in love with you, over and over, but that was foul, and I’m embarrassed by the way you just spoke to her. Loid, Yor,” he said, his eyes rimmed red as he looked at the couple stopped in shock, “have a good night. I’m sorry that our home hasn’t been a welcome place for you both. I hope you can forgive us.”

Loid nodded his head without a word, keeping Yor close to his body as he opened the door with her in front of him, and off into the night they went.

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

The sun shined too brightly in the morning, practically mocking Yor with the promise of a good day that her brain was not inclined to let her have. There was something buzzing within her bones, gnawing against the core of her being with dull teeth that made her feel uneasy. She floated around her home feeling like a stranger despite her year living there—making the space full of more than just a lonely man and his only child.

Making them a family, even if it was only for appearances.

Yor stood over the stove, stirring stew in a large pot, tossing in spices and aromatics she’d learned how to handle well enough over the past few months. The room was warm from the heat of the stovetop coils and bubbling food, while the dish's aroma enticed her stomach as she waited for the broth to thicken.

Anya sat in the living room watching her mid-afternoon morning TV, making little *pew pew* sounds as she watched the spy on screen after the dastardly assassin giving him chase. She sang along with the theme song as the title sequence queued on screen and she couldn’t contain her excitement as the spy showed up again.

Loid sat across from Anya on the home’s reclining chair, relaxing into the furniture with one leg crossed over his other leg’s knee as he scanned his eyes over the morning paper. His eyes drifted from it however to watch Anya watching her shows. His eyes grew soft as he watched the little girl imagine herself in that world of danger, and his voice was even softer as he replied to all of Anya’s comments and constant, “Chi-chi, did you see? Did you see it?” to which he replied yes, even if he hadn’t actually been watching.

His eyes found Yor’s then from her spot in the kitchen’s window panel, sending her a smile and an eye roll that she knew meant “god, this kid.”

Yor placed her hand over her heart, begging the organ to stop beating so violently against the cavity in her chest. It was just a smile. He’d smiled at her a million times, yet the feeling of fluttering in her belly never ceased. When his catlike blue eyes met her’s and he looked at her as if she were made up of everything good in the world, she couldn’t help but feel weak in the knees. That feeling always proceeded the heartache, and the feeling of her heart being crushed came in record time as Loid’s eyes left her own and focused on his daughter again.

The spot in Yor’s stomach that’d built up a lepidopterarium filled with the most beautiful winged beauties caved in then, sinking into a pit that reached her spine. Yor loved Anya, genuinely, as if she were her own. She harbored nothing but care for the child, and her father, but what if Camilla was right? What if Loid did want another child? What if that was something he needed to feel whole, but he hadn’t asked Yor out of… pity? Spite? Disinterest? Would he want to get rid of her when the urge finally bubbled up to the surface?

What did he want?

Then, it dawned on her. What did Yor want? After spending a year legally bound to the man, she and Loid had never consummated their union. There was a strange air of professionalism around their relationship that kept Yor firmly in check. This was for the progression of Anya’s school career, to make her life better. This was also to keep Yor’s brother off of her back and out of her business.

That was all. Right?

So, why did her heart hurt so much at the thought of their future? What was in it? What did they need to do to keep it afloat? To keep up their image? What lies would she need to concoct next? She could say they were trying for a baby, should anyone else be insensitive enough to ask. They’d been married long enough that most couples would at least be having the conversation, Yor supposed. But then Camilla’s words came to the forefront of her mind again.

“Maybe they’re celibate… Why marry a woman you’re so obviously disgusted by Loid? Anything would be better than…”

Me, Yor thought.

The stew bubbled over then, sploshing out in fat drops of boiling soup all over the stovetop and onto Yor’s hand. The yell had just barely breached her lips before Loid was there behind her, holding her waist with one arm will the other supported her wrist and held out her hand. He guided her over to the sink, having turned off the stove in a flash before he was back against her. The tap was flowing with cool water, but it wasn’t cold. Not like Yor needed against the incoming burn that pooled closer and closer to the surface of her skin.

Loid ran to the freezer, taking out ice cubes with his bare hands that he brought over to Yor. He cupped her hands in his own, moving the ice around constantly against her small hands to keep the burn at bay.

“Are you okay my love?” he asked, pressing his nose to the crown of her head as she let her neck relax and her head rest against the firm plane of his chest.

Yor nodded her head, saying yes without words even as tears began to pool in her eyes. She’d never pegged herself as a crier. It never felt necessary to cry in the face of pain. The pain was just an emotion like any other that would eventually pass, so there was no use in falling into it and letting it drag you down and away from yourself. But as she stood there will the prickling heat of a shallow burn on her hand, she realized she’d felt this feeling before in her heart. Every time she questioned if Loid wanted her, if Anya liked her, and if they were really meant to be a family. 

She’d felt this deep in her chest a million times.

So, she cried. So restrained that her shoulders shook and her lip felt as though it would tear under the pressure from her teeth, but she cried. Soft little hiccuping sounds came out of her mouth as she brought up her unburned hand to hold on to Loid’s arm that was wrapped around her belly, keeping her close and safe as she let months of feelings come out at once.

“Mama, Anya helps,” the little girl said, stomping her way into the room with an emergency kit she’d seen both of her parents grab and put away in secret many times throughout the months of their employment excursions.

Loid grabbed it from the girl, rubbing her head with his hand before asking her to go to the downstairs neighbor’s house for the afternoon to give Papa some time with Mama, alone. Anya nodded her head eagerly, excited to play with the neighbor woman’s dog that always thought about the sky outside and the birds in the trees.

The front door slammed as Anya left them alone, the house notably quieter since the girl changed the television channel to something less rowdy before she left.

“What’s wrong Yor?” Loid asked, turning the tap down to a trickle. He looked intently at his wife’s hands once the extent of the burn had developed.

Yor shook her head, wiping the tears away roughly before moving to remove herself from Loid’s hold.

“Wait,” he said, pulling her back against him to hold her close.

They didn’t speak for a while. Loid moved Yor’s weight with his own as he guided her to the dining room table without a word, taking out the creams and chilled menthol bandages meant for burns as Yor’s tears subsided. The only sounds shared between them were Loid’s small huffs of concentration and Yor’s sniffles before she found a napkin to blow her nose.

“Sorry,” she said, mumbling the words as Loid finished the bandage around the side of her hand where the stew had gotten her the worst and put one last layer of burn ointment on the top of her hand to keep it from scarring.

He laughed, putting away the first aid utensils where they belonged before standing up to wash off his hands in the now icy cold stream of water in the sink. He walked back to his seat in front of Yor lackadaisically, looking so soft in his cotton t-shirt and loose-fitting dark green sweatpants—the same color as his favorite working suit.

He looked so handsome like that, Yor thought, sinking into her thoughts more when Loid scooted closer to her, slotting their legs together so he could rest his forearms on her thighs.

“Is this about what Camilla said yesterday?”

Yor’s eyes snapped up to meet stormy blue irises, darker than usual at the mere mention of her coworker’s name. Loid looked… upset. Did that mean Camilla was right? Had he been mad at Yor this whole time for not being “his” enough to have a child? Had he thought their engagement was so meaningless that he couldn’t tell her his dreams for another child? Was he afraid she didn’t love him too— oh.

“It… no,” she said, the lie coming out unconvincingly in a hushed tone between Yor’s clenched teeth. “The stew just hurt a lot. I wasn’t prepared for that type of pain. I don’t like being in pain.”

Loid’s face fell, the little scowl on his brow turning into burning empathy as he looked at his wife. His stare was so heavy she felt herself cower beneath it, not ready to confront her feelings yet as the man searched her face for answers. She wasn’t ready to hear that he still only thought of their marriage as a sham. That only she had developed these feelings and that Loid was using her as a placeholder until he found someone else. Someone who he found worthy of carrying his second child, and sharing his bed, and the rest of his life.

Anything better than… Yor.

“Hey,” Loid said, brushing a stray hair out of Yor’s face and sliding his hand across her cheek to place the hair behind her ear. “Your hair’s falling out of your headband. May I?”

Yor nodded her head, sniffling away the tears she felt bubbling beneath the surface again as the man moved to take care of her further. His hands worked easily as he undid the messy remnants of her hairstyle, removing all the accessories in her hair until the black strands were free-flowing and light as they cascaded down her back and fell into her face.

“You look beautiful with your hair down,” Loid said, running his fingers through her hair to expose her face again. “I think that’s why Camilla is so ugly towards you. She’s jealous, understandably so.”

Yor scoffed, reaching up her hand to wipe away a stray tear before Loid caught her hand in his, wiping the tear away from her cheek with his index finger. The digit lingered against her skin even after the moisture had been wicked away. Yor couldn’t help but lean into the touch as his hand cupped her jaw, and his finger traced the line of bone there beneath her skin.

“No one’s jealous of me. They’re jealous I have you, but they don’t know the truth,” Yor said, the words coming out of her mouth so soft that she hoped Loid wasn’t able to hear her despite the stillness of the apartment.

Loid furrowed his brows, hooking his finger beneath Yor’s chin to make her look into his eyes. The deep blue felt fierce as a storm brewing on the horizon as he tried to read Yor’s expression, so broken in a way she’d never let herself show outwardly. Even now as she tried to reign it in, she couldn’t.

‘What truth Yor? That you’re my wife? That we take care of a child? Are both of those things not the truth?” he asked, his eyes pleading for something that Yor couldn’t understand.

She sighed, running her hand over her face which knocked Loid’s hand away. She sat back in her chair, putting more distance between them even though their legs were still touching, and Yor could see it in Loid’s face that that hurt him.

Why was she hurting him?

“The truth is that I’m your wife. But, we both know what our agreement was. I have set myself up for failure because I—”

“You what?” Loid said, holding his hands on the closest part of Yor’s body that he could touch. His hands rested on the exposed skin of her knees as her dress rode up her leg, making those same little soothing motions with his thumb.

She could see it in the depths of his eyes then. That desire to make her happy. Not only to keep her around for his child, but for more. Despite the distance she could tell they’d both placed into their relationship intentionally, she couldn’t help but allow one of the many walls built up in her mind to crumble as she looked into those pretty blue eyes. They’d grown closer over their year together, there was no way to deny that fact to herself.

Every dinner spent at the table together with Anya talking and laughing and forming their own inside jokes. Every night spent helping Anya with homework and talking over wine after stressful days when the little girl went off to bed. Every time they’d spent soothing Anya down from a crying fit together on the rare occasion that the girl got upset, every outing spent holding hands and swinging the child between them to make her squeal, every polite kiss they’d exchanged in public to hush rumors and whispers. It all led to this.

To Yor accepting that their relationship with Anya wasn’t the only thing that had grown, but each other too. From sharing a bathroom to co-parenting to all the times they’d had alone to learn more about each other. It all felt… right. So achingly right, and he was all she really wanted. She couldn’t stand how badly she wanted…

“You. I’ve set myself up for failure by falling for you, Loid Forger. Despite everything within me screaming not to cross that line, to respect our agreement, and maintain my place in our little arrangement. I screwed up. I did the one thing you aren’t supposed to do and fell in love with you, and it’s killing me because I’ve ruined it all. You can just… go find the woman you’re meant to be with now. The one you’ll want for real. To have more babies with and marry for love, not whatever we’ve agreed to here. And I, I’ll go on my way, and leave you and your daughter be. She deserves a real mother, and you deserve a real wife and a loving, passionate marriage. I’m just… sorry I can’t give you that. I know I’m not what you want.”

Her eyes burned as she looked down at her lap, fiddling incessantly with the skin around her nails as she fought more wretched tears. It shouldn’t have felt so good when Loid’s chilled hand touched the warm skin of her face, shushing the avalanche of words trying to become coherent sentences as they poured out from Yor’s mouth.

He grabbed the legs of her chair beneath her, pulling her in closer to him until she was practically sitting in his lap, balanced on the crack between the chairs as they touched.

“I’m the failure,” he whispered, resting his forehead against Yor’s as she let one last tear fall. “I’m the failure for not making you see how much I care for you ages ago. I was so caught up in my own feelings and desires that I wasn’t even seeing you for the woman you are—who you could be to me if I allowed it. Who I could be to you if you let me. I’m a failure for not showing you how much I want you. Need you, really. You’re all I could ever ask for.”

She squinted her eyes in confusion as she leaned back to look at Loid’s face, searching his features for the slightest hint of insincerity. She found none, and the shattered shards of her heart began to stitch themselves back together. She felt warm all over. So warm as she took in the placement of Loid’s hands on her body, trailing up her thighs and pulling up the fabric of her dress with it.

“You want me?” she asked, looking every bit as insecure as Camilla made her out to be.

Loid’s eyes darkened to navy, filled with a fire she’d never seen directed at her before. He wet his lips with his tongue as he moved his hands to Yor’s knees, hooking them underneath to pull her up and into his lap, holding her flush against his body as he held her tight with his arm secure around her back.

“I want every inch of you, Yor Briar Forger. Inside and out, body and soul, to death do us part. Those were the vows we took, weren’t they?”

Yor nodded her head, too breathless to speak as Loid grabbed hold of her hand and lifted it up to his lips. He kissed every digit, trailing his lips down the line of her arm until he reached her elbow. He pulled her in then, wrapping her arm around his neck so they were impossibly close. Yor breathed in his scent, dizzy from the heady mix of her hair products and his cologne.

He smelled like home, her home. The home they were working on building stronger, together.

“Those vows we said when you were bleeding from the head?” she said, the tease coming easily from her lips as she settled more comfortably in his lap.

He hummed, the sound rich like honey in his throat as his lips touched her skin again, this time against the column of her throat.

“I was of sound mind even though I wasn’t of sound body,” he chuckled, the vibrations tickling Yor as he kissed the sensitive skin across her neck. “I haven’t taken the vows back.”

Yor nodded, arching her back as he found a sweet spot beneath her ear, kissing up to suck the lobe into his mouth with the slightest bite of pressure from his teeth.

“Neither have I,” she said, leaning into his hands as they worked their way around her body.

He grabbed the bottom hem of her dress where it pooled in his lap on one end and draped over his legs on the other. He pushed the fabric up so that all of it was loose and not caught beneath Yor’s body, then his hand snuck behind her back, trailing up the length of her spine until he found the zipper there, then he pulled back down.

“It’s a husband’s duty to make his wife happy. ‘Happy wife happy life’ is what all of the academy husbands say when discussing their wives. Do you want me to make you happy, Yor?”

Yor sighed as the red fabric of her dress fell off of her shoulders, the biting chill from the apartment shocking her system as she caught it before it exposed her chest. She searched his eyes as he looked up at her from below, touching her chin with his nose before he moved up, capturing her lips in a breathtaking kiss that made her hold on to him for balance.

His lips felt soft against her’s as they moved, the moment feeling too slow despite the rush of want coursing through Yor’s system. Everything in the world was pinpointed to him. His hands on her back, his tongue licking into her mouth, his warmth against her as he caged her in. Everything Yor didn’t know she needed was all encased into this moment, with Loid—her husband, in more than just name.

“Make me yours,” she said, her voice sounding more like a whine as she rolled her hips against the hardening length in his lap.

She removed her hands where they’d caught her dress from falling and she let the garment pool down to her waist, exposing her breasts still trapped in the confines of her bra. His eyes trailed down the valley of her cleavage, and that fire in his eyes turned into an inferno.

“Gladly.”

He got up out of his chair with Yor in tow, letting her dress pool onto the floor as Yor wrapped her legs around Loid’s waist to let him carry her. He wrapped one arm underneath her ass, holding her steady in his arms as his fingers played with the thin fabric of her panties that hugged her waist. The other hand held her jaw, pulling her down to meet his lips in kisses interlaced with his tongue.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried her through their house, stopping in the living room only because something—no, someone—instantly came to mind as they passed by the floor full of Crayola drawings and Spy Detective merchandise.

“Anya.”

Loid stopped in the living room and sat them both down on the couch, having Yor stand for a moment so he could ogle her ass before having her sit down in his lap again, only this time her back was against his front.

“I’ll call Mrs. Bustelo. You lay there and look beautiful as always, darling,” Loid said, digging his phone out of his pocket to call their neighbor, the sweetest old woman who had grown to look after Anya often, given the sporadic nature of both Loid and Yor’s schedules.

Yor relaxed in Loid’s lap, tilting up her head to nose along his jaw, placing a trail of kisses as she impatiently waited for the phone line to connect. Her hips shifted side to side, causing Loid to bite down on his bottom lip to stifle a groan as a cheerful voice came down the line of the phone he had in a death grip in his hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Bustelo,” he said, his voice pinched as Yor whined her hips in tight circles as she kissed the sensitive point she’d found on Loid’s neck.

He looked down at her, nuzzling their noses against one another as their neighbor rambled on over the phone line. Yor’s eyes were filled with a mischief Loid would have never thought her capable of, but Yor felt as if her insides were on fire. Slick moisture pooled within the folds of her cunt as she inhaled Loid’s scent, kissing every part of his face and neck that her mouth could reach. A year’s worth of yearning brewed in her belly and she no longer felt as if it could be contained.

Loid wanted her too, and she needed to see all that desire brought to life with their bodies.

His cock throbbed against her where she sat in his lap, angling her hips to rut against his length through the thin layers of clothing keeping them apart. His light hold on her jaw tightened, just enough to convey the warning that was reflected in his eyes.

“Quit it,” he mouthed, making asinine conversation with the woman as Yor grew more and more restless in his lap.

She pouted, feigning innocence as she reached her unharmed hand back between their bodies. It’d already been a year, and all at once, it felt like a year too long.

“Or what?” she mouthed back, curling her lips into a smile that made her husband bite back a groan.

His eyes snapped shut as Yor ran her hand along the outline of his cock, applying pressure that made him clench his jaw in an effort not to make any noise. Yor should have felt some shame, toying with him like this with someone able to hear. Maybe the desire within her for someone to know he was indeed her’s—truly and only her’s—spurred on the act of dominance, but she wanted him now. She wanted to touch him and feel him inside of her. She needed him to make her whole in a way her soul hadn’t yet known.

“Please?” she whispered, her voice so light she wasn’t sure if she’d actually made a sound, but Loid understood, He heard her and sought out her lips as he leaned in to kiss her, putting his phone on speaker—and muted—before sitting it down on the back of the couch near his head.

“Anya’s being such a darling this afternoon. She and Bond are having the best time outside catching crickets, I’d hate to break them up. I’m assuming you need me to keep her, yes? Do you both have extra work hours again tonight or—oh! That reminds me. Have I told you two about—”

Both of them blocked out the voice as Loid dipped his head down to kiss Yor’s neck, trailing his kisses up before sucking a deep bruise into that spot beneath her ear. Her mouth fell open, desperate to make noise before Loid’s hand came up to place his thumb against her lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said, his voice fighting a tremble as Yor pressed down against him with the heel of her hand.

She kissed the digit keeping her lips closed, then in a spark of mischief she knew her husband noticed, she sucked his finger into her mouth, lapping her tongue across his fingerprint as a deep, maddeningly desperate sound got caught in his chest.

Yor giggled around his finger, pulling it out from the wet cavern of her mouth to intertwine their hands.

“Looks like I should be the one saying be quiet to yo—oh.”

His hand trailed down the tight plane of lean muscle that made up her abdomen, all smooth pale skin that begged to be bitten and marked by his teeth. He kissed her cheek as his hand breeched the lining of her panties, his fingers sliding into her slick folds with ease. He toyed with her clit, rubbing the swollen bud in tight circles as he bucked up against her hand.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he said, burying his face in her hair as she nuzzled against his neck.

Yor giggled, having never heard the man curse that strongly before since most of their life was spent around a child. The word “baby” coming from his lips was the only thing that could top that little slip-up.

“Baby. You called me baby,” she said, a smile on her face as she ran her hand down the length of his cock trapped within his sweats to squeeze the tip. “Loid, I want you in me. I need to feel you, it’s been too long already.”

They moaned softly into each other’s mouths, soft pants and heated kisses making them breathless as they ground against each other’s hands. The months of not engaging with anyone in that way—their needs only being taken care of on their own—had taken its toll. Every nerve in Yor’s body felt raw and exposed beneath Loid’s touch, yearning for him to do something—anything—more to tip her over the edge.

“More. I need more,” Yor said, sucking her own bruise against Loid’s neck. “I need all of you.”

He groaned as he picked her up, the last bit of his sanity snapping as he lifted her out of the seat. He began to walk them back towards his—their—bedroom, but before they could make it even two feet forward they were brought back to Earth in a second.

“Loid? Loid, are you there?”

“Shit,” they said in tandem, falling all over each other as they stood in the middle of their living room and Loid rushed to clear up the situation over the phone, making up some excuse or another about why they needed a babysitter in the middle of the day on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Yor wrapped her arms around his neck and let him hold her as he spoke, the deep baritone of his voice loud and muffled inside of his chest where Yor rested her head. His chest was so broad, firm yet soft in a way that felt comforting as Yor relaxed in the safety of his arms.

“Yes, thank you for taking her. We appreciate it. I—yes. Hi Anya,” he said, kissing Yor’s hair as he listened to the child speak. “Yes, Mama’s right here. She can hear you now.”

Loid flicked the speaker button on again, letting Yor hear Anya’s excited yelling about all the crickets she and Bond caught and her ‘harmless’ plans for them against one annoying, pig-faced, silver spoon-eating Damian Desmond when she returned to school the following week. All Yor could do was laugh, telling her that the best course of action for revenge is to not get caught.

“If you aren’t confident in your abilities Anya then don’t do it. You need plausible deniability, an escape plan, and you’ve already messed up by telling us the plan before it’s happened. Polish your skills and wait, my love. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Don’t worry.”

Anya sighed, groaning about the crickets before deciding to let them free into the yard again.

That definitely wouldn’t be a problem for their pest control later. Nope, not at all.

“Be good for Mrs. Bustelo, Anya. Mama and Papa will be here when you’re ready to come home in the morning.”

“Okay, Chi-chi. Have fun Mama!” Anya said, hanging up the phone before any of the adults were able to say goodbye.

Loid sighed into Yor’s hair, tossing his phone onto the couch before his cock twitched with interest again as he looked down at his wife’s face.

“You’re so good with her,” he said, scooping her back up into his arms. “I couldn’t have dreamt up a better mother for her to come into our lives.”

She fell into his kisses, letting every gasp and moan she wanted spill from her lips now that they were truly alone. She felt dizzy with lust as her back hit their mattress, seated near the edge as Loid lowered himself down on one knee to kiss down her body.

“I never tell you how grateful I am for you, for all that you do for us,” he said, sliding his hands beneath her back to rid her of her bra. “For me.”

Her breasts dropped out from the material easily, and Loid didn’t hesitate to show his appreciation for her body. His tongue was warm against her nipple, while the other was pinched with just the right pressure between his thumb and forefinger. He sucked, slotting his leg between Yor’s thighs as he flicked her nipple with his tongue.

“So good,” Yor whined, sliding down just enough to press her cunt against the firm muscle of his thigh, grinding down on it in an unabashed chase for her pleasure.

“We never christened our marriage bed. We’re overdue for that, don’t you think… Mrs. Forger?” Loid said, grinding himself against her hip as she chased her first release.

“Yes, please, Mr. Forger. Make me yours.”

Her orgasm bubbled up to the surface soon enough, guided by Loid’s whispers of sweet nothings and his mouth against the sensitive tissue of her breasts. As the high muddled her brain, Yor absentmindedly thought about how Loid might feel about her body if she were pregnant, swollen and full with his child—their child—with breasts developed to provide sustenance for new life.

Camilla’s words came flooding back then, chasing away the pleasure that had managed to momentarily flood out her constantly working mind. The frustration at that must have shown on her face, since not a moment later Loid was back in her space, kissing her cheeks to soothe what felt like incoming tears again.

“Where did you just go?” Loid asked, sliding his hands along the soft fabric of their sheets to grab Yor’s elbows, pushing her arms up above her head so he could get as close to her as he wanted.

She shook her head, her mouth fixed to say “nowhere” before the seriousness of Loid’s gaze crashed down on her. Yor was glad he didn’t give her that look in their day-to-day life, when she was lying to him about other things—more trivial things. But now, she couldn’t lie to him if her life depended on it. She felt naked as she saw herself in the light blue of his eyes.

“I—I let what Camilla said get to me,” Yor said, trying in vain to avert her eyes despite Loid being mere inches from her face. “She—I—god. I don’t know what we are, and when she poked at that, and brought Anya into it and our baby into it I didn’t know what to say I just—”

“Our baby?” he said, a million questions popping up in his eyes as he racked his brain for details of the night before, and then it clicked. “Ah, because she assumed we must be sexless losers who only co-parent? She had no basis at all for assuming that. She just said it to hurt you. So why should what she says matter?”

Yor chuckled, smiling as she pressed a kiss against Loid’s lips that he happily reciprocated. “I just mean that… she made me wonder what it is that I want, and I let her make me assume what you want. That you must want a second baby and that I’m not the woman you want to do it with, because of how this all started. It wasn’t fair to let her put words in your mouth.”

“But?” he said, seeing easily that there was more on his wife’s mind.

“But, I do wonder now if she was wrong. I just… don’t know what you want. You say now that you do want me but what does that look like? Do you only want my body? Do you want more kids? Do you intend for this to last?” she asked, searching his eyes for the answers. “We don’t have to decide anything right now, but what she said made me wonder if I’m what you want, for yourself or Anya or this… hypothetical new child. I’m just confused, at you and myself.”

Loid nodded, taking a moment to process everything Yor said before taking in a deep breath and exhaling it out with renewed energy. He slid his hands down Yor’s legs as he kissed her, dragging her ass as close to the edge of the bed as he could get without her falling off.

“I want you, for as big of a role as you’ll allow me to have in your life,” he said, kissing down her body again but not stopping until he reached his intended destination. “I want you in sickness,” he said, kissing her inner thigh. “I want you in health.” Another kiss. “I want you pregnant and happy with my babies, if that’s what you want. I just want you happy, light of my life. I wouldn’t have the life that I love without you in it, so whatever you want me to be to you is what I am. Your husband, in every sense of the word.”

Yor may have yelled when his mouth made contact with her clit, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue while his fingers prodded her entrance.

“Please. In! In, in in,” she said, trying to fuck herself down on the digits despite Loid holding her waist down on the bed with his arm.

He listened well, inserting one finger into her tight heat before sliding in another easily with how much natural lubricant was soaking her inner thighs. He groaned when her cunt tightened around his fingers, no doubt feeling that sensation in the depth of his stomach as he longed for her to be around his cock instead. Still, he waited—ignoring the pulsing length smacking impatiently against his thigh. His arousal stained his boxer briefs as he got his wife off again against his tongue, sucking her clit with gentle tugs into his mouth as she rutted against his face.

“Loid, please,” Yor said, near tears for a different reason as her cunt spasmed around his fingers. “Please, I need you in me. Please. I want to cum with you in me.”

Yor tugged his head back with her hand fisted in his hair, crunching up to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss as she dragged him up to lay against her body.

“If you don’t fuck me like you mean it in the next ten seconds I will lose my fucking mind.”

He chuckled at that, standing up to free his cock from the tight material of his boxers. Yor couldn’t help but giggle when she looked at Loid’s hair, noting how messy it looked from Yor’s fingers running through the strands, gripping them for dear life to keep his mouth on her for as long as she needed it, but now she needed something else. More of him—all of him, every inch he had to give.

“Condoms,” Loid said, his eyes growing a size wider than Yor had ever seen them when the word was said out loud.

Yor’s mouth gaped open as she wracked her brain for an answer. They hadn’t done anything so there was no use for them in the home, at least that’s what Yor thought before every time she’d pass by them as she went down the aisle to purchase her own personal items. She mentally thumped herself on the forehead for not having the foresight for this. Now Loid would have to leave, go to the corner store, stand in line, get out their reward number, talk to the cashier, help th—

“We don’t have to use one, really, if you’re okay with that.”

Yor will never understand where the words came from, but once they were out of her mouth and into the air, she couldn’t hope to take them back. Loid looked contemplative, wrestling internally with himself about something before he looked down at Yor’s body. The peachy-pink flushed all over her warm skin, the weight of her breasts, the soft features of her face still relaxed with post-orgasmic bliss, awaiting another one.

Whatever struggle he had inside ended as he fisted his cock, jerking the length only enough to bring him back to full hardness before he leaned over Yor still perched on the edge of their tall bed.

“If it’s too much, you need to tell me. If you change your mind, tell me. I meant every word that I’ve said today. Every word, so whatever comes of this will be okay. I just want to feel you.”

He swept her up in a kiss and she nodded as she licked into his mouth, letting him push her legs up by the knees to rest her ankles on his shoulders as he stood over her on the bed, using the edge as leverage for his hands.

“Make me yours.”

“You already are, and I’m yours.”

There was a sheen of cold sweat on the surface of Yor’s body as Loid pushed into her, bottoming out and filling her to the brim with a groan so deep it sounded wrong coming from him. Her sweet, stoic, hardworking husband was a goner from the moment he entered her cunt, and she knew she looked no better as she fucked herself on his cock.

“I’m fine,” she said, knowing he was waiting for her to say something. “God, you’re perfect. So perfect. Please, Loid, move. Use me, I can take it.”

He nodded, pulling out until just the tip was inside, then he crashed back down. Once they found a rhythm, the deep strokes he was making into her cunt felt like music, the way something melodic and beautiful felt inside of her ears is how his cock felt inside of her body. So perfectly sized, moving with such fluid motion that Yor would have never pegged that the man—her husband—was capable of. The lower muscles of his abs pressed against her clit, sending sparks of pleasure so visceral up her spine that she feared the sensation may never stop.

Part of her hoped that it wouldn’t.

"Tell me,” Yor said, gasping desperately as his cock stroked all the right spots inside and out. She felt so full, delirious with pleasure as his hand went between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Tell me how you feel.”

Loid groaned, one long airy desperate sound as Yor clenched around him so tight, so perfect, as her high neared the tipping point again. Everything in the world felt right for them both at that moment, connected on the most intimate level with someone they’d not only chosen to be with out of circumstance but now by choice. It was everything and so much more than a man like Loid Forger imagined himself to be capable of. To feel, to want, to yearn for.

And it all came to a head just as they did.

“I love you, Yor Forger. I am blessed to have you as my wife and the mother of my child. I’d be honored to father your babies if you’ll have me. I—fuck. I love you. Yor, I love you. I—”

“Me too. I love you too. I want more, with you and for—our kids. Please, I want you to make me all yours.”

They came in quick succession after each other. Who came first? Yor couldn’t tell. All that mattered was the overwhelming joy she felt as Loid came inside her, joining them together as he reached his arms around her body to hug her with no intention of letting her go.

For as long as they both shall live.

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

so what'd you think? lmk. tyty for reading! see you in the next one || crossposted on ao3 — here || taglist — here ||

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hi I love your writing and say you wanted a peter vday request! I have one how about a vday scavenger hunt type of thing that instead of peter setting it up it's reader for peter! And like at the end it will come down to two choices one leads to her and the other leads to still being friends. Fluffy!

Scavenger Hunt

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” You shouted across the hallway before tackling Peter in a hug.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Peter happily hugged you back. “I have something to give you.”

“I do too.” You grinned nervously. “But I have to go first.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he put the valentine in his back pocket.

“Okay, so you know how you have a huge crush on me?” You began.

“What? No I don’t.” He stammered. “That’s crazy. That’s…yeah, why?”

“Well I like you too.” You confessed, making his breath hitch in his throat.

“You do?” He asked as his eyes went wide.

“Yeah.” You said like it was obvious. “But I can’t date someone who can’t be honest about their feelings. So I’m gonna need you to prove to me that you really want to be with me.”

“I do. I really, really do.” He promised. “How can I prove that to you?”

“By going on this scavenger hunt.” You explained as you handed him a red envelope. “If you follow all the steps correctly, you’ll find me at the end. And then I’m yours, Peter. All yours.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “What if I mess up?”

“Then we stay friends and pretend this never happened.” You said simply.

“No.” Peter shook his head as he stared at the envelope. “That’s not happening. I’m gonna win this. I’ll find you at the end and give you your Valentine.”

“I hope you do.” You answered honestly. “You have until sunset. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.” Peter promised. You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Then I’ll see you later.” You winked at him before walking away. As soon as you were gone, Peter opened the envelope to read the first clue.

“You’ll find clue one where we first met. You remembered my name when I thought you’d forget.”

“Science lab!” Peter blurted, earning looks from passing students. He cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed, giving them a small smile. He stuffed the envelope in his pocket and rushed to the third floor science lab.

You had first met there when you sat next to him on the first day of school. You sat there again the following week, introducing yourself as if you were meeting for the first time. You had assumed he’d forgetting your name over the weekend, laughing shyly when he told you he remembered it.

Peter opened the door to the lab and saw another red envelope sitting on the back table. He walked over to it and opened it up, hands shaking with anticipation. There was a heart shaped lolly pop sitting next to it, which he unwrapped and popped in his mouth.

“Roses are red, violets are blue. Check your locket for clue number two.”

Peter bolted out of the lab, knocking into a few students as he ran to his locker. He fumbled with the lock before ultimately pulling it off with his super strength. He opened the locker and saw a red envelope taped to the door with his name on it. It was scented like your perfume, as if you sprayed it on there.

“You found me! So here’s clue number three. What’s a little honey without the bee?”

“She’s too cute.” Peter mumbled it himself as he shut his locker. He practically skipped down the hallway as he made his way outside, quickly located the tree you used to sit under to eat your lunch. You stopped sitting there when a bee stung you on your hand, but you had a fond memory of Peter sucking the stinger out.

Peter saw a red envelope taped to the tree and took it, ripping it open to read what was inside. Other than the card, there was a small package of his favorite candy. He began to munch on them as he read the clue.

“Look at you, you found clue four. Schools almost over, so check your front door.”

Peter let out a groan, knowing he had two more periods before he could go home. His leg bounced in anticipation during his classes, shooting out of his seat the second the final bell rang.

Peter ran all the way home but when he got to his apartment, he didn’t see an envelope. He checked both sides of the door and found nothing. He slumped in defeat on the couch, assuming you changed your mind.

“Hey, Peter.” May greeted as she walked into the room. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “I was expecting something.”

“Oh, was it a letter?” May asked, making his perk up. “I found this taped to the door when I got-“

“That’s mine!” Peter shouted in excitement as he took the envelope from May. He tore it open and pulled out the card inside. A Polaroid of you and him fell out, and he quickly picked it up. It was a picture of you biting his cheek while he laughed, one of his favorite pictures.

“I hope the wait for clue five built your anticipation. Clue number six can be found at the train station.”

“I gotta go.” Peter hastily grabbed his bag and went for the door.

“Where are you going?” May called after him, but he was already gone. He swung to the nearest train station and found Ned with a bouquet of roses.

“Ned?” Peter panted once he landed. “What are you doing here?”

“First, these are for you.” Ned handed Peter the flowers. “And so is this.”

Peter took the flowers with a smile before accepting the envelope.

“Clues will be getting harder, so I hope you enjoy the roses. Clue seven is with the models and all their dumb poses.”

“Models?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Ned in confusion.

“Hey man, I’m just the messenger.” Ned shrugged. “She got me a box of chocolates for helping out.

“I think I have an idea.” Peter said as he remembered something. “But if I’m wrong, then we stay friends.”

“You better hope you’re not wrong then.” Ned said, and Peter agreed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll see you later, man. Hopefully with my girlfriend.”

Peter swung back to Delmars and went inside, going straight to the magazine section. You once stood in front of the magazines with him, flipping through to see who could find the most ridiculous poses the models were in and then doing them. He remembered making you laugh when he mimicked a particularly flexible pose, so he hoped that’s what the clue was alluding to. Peter scanned the magazine section for the red envelope, jumping a little when the store cat jumped on top of the rack. Peter did a double take when he saw you had taped the envelope to the cat, shaking his head at your antics. He carefully removed the tape and looked at the clue inside.

“Our times in Delmars are some of the best I’ve ever had. Now for clue eight, you’ll need someone who’s bad.”

Peter tilted his head in confusion until he flipped the card over, seeing that you wrote, “really, really bad.”

The wheels in his brain started turning and he remembered the song you played him the night you got your drivers license.

“Bad.” He mumbled to himself. “The Michael Jackson song?”

He turned the card over again and suddenly, it clicked.

Bad. Michael Jackson. MJ.

“Thanks for the help.” Peter pet the cat before noticing a wrapped sandwich on the counter with his name written on it. He smiled at the gesture, finally realizing he was starving. He unwrapped it, taking note that it was his usual order, and took a bite. He continued eating it as he went to find MJ.

He hoped she was in he usual spot, perched under the bleachers with a pile of books. Peter nervously checked the time, seeing that he only had two hours until sunset. You said he had to find you before then, and he was worried time was running out. MJ could be anywhere and she wasn’t a fan of answering her phone. He could only hope you allowed time specifically for hunting MJ down.

After checking the local library and realizing he had no idea where MJ lived, Peter felt stuck. He spun around in circles in the middle of the street, unsure of where to go next. The sun would be setting soon and he had no idea how many more clues he needed.

“Hey loser.” MJ appeared out of nowhere with a small smile. “Need some help?”

“MJ?” Peter wondered as he approached her. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You’ve been spinning in a circle outside my apartment building for the past ten minutes whining my name.” She said flatly. “I figured I should come out.”

“You live here?” Peter asked as he looked up at the building. He realized that he had been there before with you, and must have walked there from muscle memory.

“Yep.” She sounded bored. “Do you want your envelope or not?”

“I do.” He nodded eagerly. “Do you know how many are left?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” MJ yawned as he handed him the envelope. “Oh, and she wanted me to give you this.”

Peter looked up at MJ handed him a watch he recognized.

“My Uncle Ben’s watch?” He asked as he took it from her. “Where did you get this?”

“Like I just said.” MJ said sarcastically. “She wanted me to give it to you.”

“It’s ticking.” He realized with a smile. “It hasn’t worked in years.”

“Yeah, well.” MJ shrugged. “She got it to work. Happy Valentine’s Day or whatever.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, MJ.” Peter smiled in appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” She mumbled as he opened the envelope.

“As your watch will show you, time is almost out. For the last clue, you’ll find me at the best place to shout.”

“Best place to shout?” Peter wondered out loud. “Where’s the best place to shout?”

“Well, I would say a protest, but her hopeless romantic ass would probably say something like a rooftop or concert.”

“There are no concerts in the area.” Peter thought hard. “She must mean a rooftop, right? Because when you love someone, you want to shout it from the rooftops.”

“I don’t know.” MJ sighed. “This is the last time I help straight people with anything.”

“I think I know where she is.” Peter decided. “I better hurry. The sun is gonna set soon.”

“Does it look like I’m stopping you?” MJ mumbled as Peter ran away. Once he was out of sight, he swung towards your apartment building and landed on the roof.

You were standing on the roof, next to a small table and chairs. Red candles and pink hearts were on the table, a perfect Valentine’s Day date. Peter walked towards you and put the roses you’d given him in the empty vase before taking in your beauty. You were in a silly red dress with the sun setting behind you.

“You found me.” You smiled softly, gazing at him with pride.

“I did.” He smiled as well as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I followed all your clues.”

“I really thought the Michael Jackson would throw you.” You teased as you stepped closed to him.

“Nothing was gonna throw me.” He said confidently. “I was too determined.”

“I see.” You pulled your lip between your teeth. “Did you like your gifts?”

“Of course I did.” He told you. “This is the best one, though. But the sandwich was a nice touch.”

“I thought you’d like that.” You chuckled.

“Can I give you my Valentine now?” Peter asked, reaching for it in his back pocket.

“Oh, yeah.” You remembered. “Of course.”

Peter handed you heart cut out of red construction paper with glitter and stickers on it. You chuckled at his craftsman’s and slowly opened it up, sequins falling off as you did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to the most beautiful, creative, and amazing girl I know. You make everyday feel like Valentine’s Day. Ps, I like you. I really, really like you. Love, Peter.” You read out loud, looking up at him in awe. He has a shy blush on his cheeks as you finished reading.

“It’s funny.” You chuckled as you set the card on the table. “You wrote “love Peter” at the end of it.”

“What’s funny about that?” Peter wondered.

“I do.” You smiled shyly. “I do love Peter.”

“I love you too.” Peter grinned before pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting your red lipstick all over his face. He didn’t mind it, though. He was too happy to mind it. When you pulled away, he pulled your chair out for you so you could sit down at the table. There was sparkly cider already in your glasses and a cupcake on each of your plates.

“Thank you for a perfect Valentine’s Day.” He said as he held up his glass. “I can honestly say this has been the greatest day of my life.”

“Me too, Petey.” You smiled as you clinked your glass against his. “Me too.”

Tag List 🏷

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[milktoast-mcgee]

the boys and their royal arms

I’ve rambled about this a little bit before on twitter, but I decided to finally sit down and get these thoughts out about noct, his boys, and the royal arms they use!

tldr, the royal arms prompto, gladio, and ignis use during the armiger chain (in addition to the talismans they can get and the boons the kings’ sigils represent in comrades) illustrate key aspects of their characters. 

Introduction

Throughout Final Fantasy XV, Noctis and his retinue search for the Royal Arms, the weapons of the Kings of Yore. They're representative of Noct's birthright and his destiny as the True King. He and his companions, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis, search for the weapons all over the world. As he adds them to his Armiger, not only does Noctis use the Royal Arms, but the boys wield them as well -- notably, in the Armiger Chain combination attack. Accumulating more of the glaives makes the chain last longer, and all four boys use every weapon in the collection together.

Beyond the battle mechanic, the Royal Arms each of them use carry a strong thematic element. Each glaive illustrates something about each young man -- their characters, their strengths, their weaknesses, their character arcs. This idea extends beyond just the Arms to the Kings themselves, present in their sigils in the Comrades expansion as well as the unique equippable talismans each boy receives.* These themes perfectly illustrate just how connected Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis are to Noctis -- they are fundamentally linked, inexorably bound together.

* (These are only present in the Royal Pack/Royal Edition. They are found in Insomnia in Chapter 14, either after completing all the Kingsglaive quests for Cor. I think. I don't remember... shhsdugif)

Prompto

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was friends... but no one ever wanted me back. So when I finally found people who did want me, I did everything I could to make them stay. And ever since then, I've lived my life in fear -- that one day, they'd find out who I really was, and they wouldn't want me anymore."

Prompto struggles greatly with self-doubt and rejection. He knows he's an outsider and feels that outsiderness to his core, even as a child. But in the face of that, he strives to play the mood maker -- he tries to hold the party together, keep the air light, and make people happy. He attempts to remain outgoing and cheerful, even when he's not, or nobody else is. Noctis and the others love him dearly, regardless of his origins, because he is who he is -- sweet, caring, talented, heartful, thoughtful Prompto. While he at once represents rejection and outsiderness, he also stands for unity and togetherness, and these elements are present in his connection to the Kings.

Prompto receives the talisman of the Clever. The talismans accentuate the boy's unique abilities, and Prompto's grants him increased critical hit rate and unlimited ammo for the SMG. Prompto's gunplay is incredible -- acrobatic, precise, and powerful. It's a far cry from how Prompto tends to feel about himself; he is skilled and capable, even if he doesn't believe he is. The Clever is the perfect mantle for him to carry to represent this.

Though Prompto doesn't use the Bow of the Clever in battle, the Clever fits him very well. The Clever is said to have been a king "versed in myriad arts both martial and intellectual." The Clever's weapon easily fits Prompto, but during the Armiger Chain, it's Noctis who uses it -- while Prompto wields the Sword of the Wise, which carries its own significance. 

Noct uses the Bow of the Clever, it fits Prompto as a weapon: it's the only glaive that's projectile, aside from the Star of the Rogue, which Prompto also uses. It fires spectral arrows to skewer foes all across the battlefield. In addition, in the Comrades expansion, the Clever's sigil allows the bearer to summon spectral arms at will. It replaces the use of spells to summon eight special armaments to wield at once. It's a form of battle very appropriate to Prompto, isn't it? 

The Clever is said to have been talented in many varied ways. The same could definitely be said of Prompto, whether he believes it or not. While a commoner, he keeps up with his royal companions in battle. When he knocks enemies off guard, he can deliver devastating blows to rival even magic. He can take photos in battle effortlessly -- something his companions love, except when Noct is being gnawed on by a daemon. But while Prompto sees himself as incapable, a burden to his team, he's well able to keep up with them, and strives to hold the group together. The mantle of the Clever fits him so well in this aspect.

But while Noct uses the Bow during the Chain, Prompto uses the Sword of the Wise. The Wise is the King who first erected the Wall and established the borders of the kingdom of Lucis. He was a notably mighty figure and protected the realm. His blade represents the foundation of the Kingdom, and Noct's birthright -- and while Noct uses the weapon that most fits Prompto, Prompto in turn uses the Sword of the Wise, a clear symbol of Noct's royal blood. He is more than capable and deserving to wield it, even briefly, despite how Prompto feels about himself.

Prompto also uses the Star of the Rogue. The Rogue was a figure reviled by the people. She "spurned the public eye and took to the shadows." It's a huge shuriken, and Prompto actually briefly wields it against the daemonified Rogue in the Citadel battle. The Rogue is a figure of royal power but rejection -- intensely shunned by the people, choosing to rule away from their eyes. She wears a mask in her armor; it doesn't appear to be a helmet or battle regalia, but rather a means of hiding her face, obscuring herself further. 

The queen is a figure of stealth and prowess, but will never quite belong to the public, to her people. Only when she is gone is she remembered fondly by history. Prompto definitely feels he doesn't belong, and likely that he never will. He's a lonely child from a lonely home. He knows he's from the enemy nation, branded by them. For years, he doesn't believe he deserves to be Noctis's friend, and pushes himself to be good enough to finally approach him. Even when he's assimilated into Noct's retinue, he feels he doesn't compare to the likes of them, and fears the day they all reject him... even though the idea is completely unthinkable to them.

This idea extends nicely to the third Royal Arm Prompto uses, the Scepter of the Pious. The Pious is described as a king who "ruled the realm according to divine law and worked hand in hand with the Oracle." It's a weapon that strikes with a blade of light. It enhances magic and is particularly strong against dark elements. The Scepter is a weapon to represent unity, togetherness. The King worked with the Oracle -- a nice parallel to Prompto's correspondence with Lunafreya, and how she gave him the courage to befriend Noctis -- to unite Lucis. It's a weapon that represents strength in teamwork, in united people, breaking down the walls that divide them to live as one.

Prompto's use of the Royal Arms illustrate his biggest fears and greatest strengths. He's an outsider, terrified of rejection. But he's a dedicated and loyal friend, devoted to helping them and keeping them happy. Despite the differences that could potentially drive them apart, Prompto is a vital part of Noct's retinue. Despite his wavering confidence, he is talented and incredibly skilled. He's unique and irreplaceable, and his closest friends know that. One day, Prompto will, too, and he and Noct can knock down the barriers between their people once and for all.

"I owe Noct everything, for standing by me always. And now... it’s my turn to stand by him.”

Gladio

"I swore a vow to do whatever it takes to protect you and the future of our world."

So, let's get this out of the way: Gladio suffers from a tragic lack of character development. While this can be another sad side effect of XV's troubled development **, we can attempt to spin it into something subtle and quiet, illustrating Gladio's softer side. His connection to the Royal Arms shows that not only does he want to be strong, he wants to protect those he cares about above all else. Gladio is ultimately very caring and deeply, truly loyal, even though he's as hard and heavy as blade steel sometimes.

** (Rumor has it, Clarus, Gladio's father, was going to betray the Crown, and Gladio would face deep inner conflict over it, having to choose between his father's ideals and Noctis's journey. Apparently the role was given instead to Drautos/Glauca in Kingsglaive, who has a much more prominent presence in the movie than Clarus. None of this is confirmed, though, and isn't present in any released canon materials... so who knows. It's worth mentioning because it speaks to maybe their taking out Gladio's planned character arc and forgetting to put anything back in its place...here’s the reddit post that compiles the theories pretty well, if you’re curious.)  

Gladio receives the Tall's talisman. When it's equipped, it accelerates the rate at which Gladio's valor gauge increases. His valor, in battle, best increases from uninterrupted combos and counterattacks, both appropriate given his nature as Shield, well-trained for battle but focused on defense. It's a simple boon that's incredibly valuable in battle, and battle is an inescapable aspect of Gladio's life. Along with the talisman, Gladio wields the Sword of the Tall. It's a broadsword, Gladio's preferred type of weapon. The Tall is said to have been "built like a mountain, towering over all others." It's a peculiar kind of sword with a chainsaw-like blade, which rips and tears mercilessly through enemies. For its incredible strength and vitality boost, it lowers elemental and magic defenses. This is matched by the Tall's sigil in the Comrades expansion, which greatly increases attack power at the cost of casting spells. The Tall's is a mantle of muscle, not mettle, but it's not the only King's presence Gladio carries.

Gladio also wields the Shield of the Just. His secondary preferred weapon is a shield, obviously focused on defense and counters. The Just is a queen of yore -- she and the Rogue are the only queens of Lucis present ingame. She is not given a name, but her armor has a massive silhouette, her presence immense. The Shield of the Just, as expected, offers Noctis huge defense. It greatly decreases attack to grant significant defenses, both physical and elemental. Its description describes the Just as a queen devoted to peace who was loved by all. Though her phantom visage is imposing, the Just is a strong, steadfast figure of peace, not violence. It's a strong contrast to the Sword of the Tall; if the Tall's is his blade, the Just's is his shield.

The Axe of the Conqueror is the third Royal Arm Gladio uses. While the Tall and the Just represent Gladio's strength and will to protect, the Conqueror represents willpower and moving forward. The Axe describes the Conqueror as a king who "performed great feats of arms, expanded his realm, and made his people prosper." This is all too appropriate for Gladio's role in Noctis's retinue, not just as his protector but his guide. When Noct can't move forward, Gladio pushes him. When he can't think, Gladio thinks for him. When things get difficult, Gladio helps Noctis grow and move on, whether he wants to or not. Gladio is a big brother, after all, and he wants only the best for those he cares about and wants them to succeed, just as the Conqueror did.

Gladio's use of the Royal Arms illustrates his boundless strength both in offense and defense. He carries a broadsword and shield and the needs of his companions. Gladio pushes forward. He is fiercely loyal and cares deeply for those around him, and pushes forward without hesitation, bringing those he must protect with him. Gladio wants to be strong, not only for the sake of power, but for the power to protect the ones he cares about. He cherishes the things he holds dear, and will protect them with all his being.

"You're right, I am afraid. ... Maybe I'm not really cut out for the job I'm expected to do. ... I may be all muscle and no mettle, but I'm gonna keep protecting Noct the only way I know how."

Ignis

"This world means nothing to me. Do with it as you wish. ... But I refuse to let Noct sacrifice his life to save ours. I won't let you take him away."

Ignis has served the Crown for nearly all his life. He's been Noct's companion the whole while -- his friend and brother, as designated by King Regis himself. Since he was a child, he's carried royal responsibility. He's composed, precise, and calculating, well-versed in all kinds of matters, political and not. He's a strategist, a royal advisor, and he keeps at Noct's side without hesitation. While he maintains a very cool, thoughtful demeanor, confronting problems with plans and logic, he has a relentless, reckless side. He is willing to resort to violence should the plan call for it, especially if the safety of Noctis and his companions is at stake. Ignis has a very smooth, calm surface with a deep, deep underlying intensity that rarely shows.

Ignis receives the Wanderer's talisman in the fallen Insomnia. When it's equipped, it boosts Ignis's Total Clarity gauge, heightening his senses and deepening his focus. In battle, Ignis uses strategic elemancy -- imbuing his daggers with fire, ice, and lightning -- and counterattacks. He doesn't utilize raw strength; instead, his battle prowess uses his strategic mind. Reaching Total Clarity allows him to unleash a particularly decisive blow. He is a fast, strategic, relentless attacker, perfectly carrying the mantle of the Wanderer. In addition, the Wanderer's sigil in Comrades carries an entirely supportive effect -- it casts Cheer on the party, heightening their abilities. It fits Ignis's penchant for strategy, supporting his comrades and planning instead of rushing into battle and relying on raw strength.

The Wanderer is said to have been "quick like the wind and went where no man had gone before." His swords "rain fury -- together they deliver thundering blows." The Swords of the Wanderer have three distinct forms, interlinked and not, to adjust to the needs of battle. The Wanderer was clearly a versatile, flexible fighter. He roamed the unknown and pressed on into strange territory without fear. "Wandering" implies a lack of a destination, focusing not on the end of the journey but shoving onward regardless.

It's too fitting that Regis tells a young Ignis something he will never forget: "One cannot lead by standing still. A King pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back."

When Ignis is blinded by his sacrifice and Noct disappears into the Crystal, the Wanderer mantle fits him even more. The light has disappeared from his world, both literally and metaphorically. He can no longer see -- greatly debilitating his extensive prowess -- and his life's purpose, being at Noctis's side, is left to the lurch. He investigates the royal tombs and the ruins of old civilizations to the best of his ability. He pushes on alone, not to prove anything to his friends but to himself. He refuses to burden anyone, even though the boys would never think that of him. He's left without a destination, without purpose, but pushes onward, always. He finds the ability to fight again, delves deep into the history of Eos, and holds onto the hope that one day Noctis will return. And, soon enough, he does, only for the prophecy to snatch him away once and for all.

Ignis also wields the Katana of the Warrior, which couldn't be more fitting for him, especially given his relationship with Noct. The glaive is even found in Fondina Castino in Cartanica, the boys' first stop after the catastrophe in Altissia. Ignis is blind, hating himself for every stumble, hating how Gladio and Noct fight while Prompto tries to stop them. After the retinue finds the Katana, Ignis finds his resolve and tells his companions he will continue, and if he can't keep up, he will not hinder them. He will gladly fall behind if it means they can push on together. "I would remain with you all," he says, "to the very end."

The Warrior's glaive bears a tragic description: "A king was changed forever when his beloved queen was taken from him prematurely. This was his katana." The weapon strikes swiftly, calculatedly, cutting down foes “in a single heartbeat." It carries magical defense but is especially weak to dark elements. The Warrior's mantle couples well with Ignis's losses throughout the story -- he loses his home, his sight, the light of the world, and his most beloved companion. Even then, he pushes on. He carries his sorrows and pushes onward, regardless, knowing full well the pain of losing everything that matters, and what else there is to lose.

The third Royal Arm Ignis wields is the Mace of the Fierce. The Fierce was said to be "gentle before his people but an ogre on the battlefield," dealing massive, crippling blows with his glaive. This weapon in particular illustrates the side of Ignis he keeps carefully hidden. For all his composure, his careful planning and strategic mind, he can be reckless, ruthless, and violent. When planning to infiltrate an Empire base, for instance, he's not above torturing someone to get information he needs. When he needs to get something done, he will get it done. When it comes to Noct's safety, he will do whatever it takes. He will gladly throw away his own safety, his sight, and his life to save him. This duality is nicely represented by the Fierce's glaive -- nice and composed, but cold and relentless when the situation calls for it.

Beneath his calm, placid surface, Ignis is a blazing fire. He's intensely driven, fiercely loyal, and wholly devoted to Noctis as he has been his whole life. He will throw everything away without question, even himself, if it means saving the ones he cares about. He is thoughtful and strong, careful and precise, but has a tendency to be ruthless, reckless, and destructive -- forgoing his own wellbeing to reach his ends. In the wake of tragedy, he pushes on, holding onto unwavering hope, unyielding devotion, unable to ever let go.

"Even if it costs my own life to save him... I will pay that price!"

All for the True King

The remaining four Royal Arms are used by Noct in the Armiger Chain. They, too, carry significance in his wielding them -- especially in the combination attack, symbolizing the unity of him and those he cares about. Noctis wields the Blade of the Mystic, the Bow of the Clever, the Trident of the Oracle, and the Sword of the Father during the Armiger Chain. The Blade of the Mystic stands for the Founder King. The Bow of the Clever is a weapon especially fit for Prompto, who then wields the Sword of the Wise, one of the fundamental figures of Lucian history. The Trident of the Oracle belongs to Luna, and the Sword of the Father belongs to none other than King Regis.

Noct's use of the Royal arms in the chain complements those his boys use, further symbolizing the unity and togetherness between them and the people -- and the whole world -- they care about. The Kings' stories are present in the Prince's friends, showing just how deeply connected they are to Noctis. There's no doubt Noct loves his boys dearly, and their thematic connections to the Kings and their weapons only illustrate how much they care about each other. They travel together, ride together, and rule together with the blessings of Kings past. Even in the wake of trial and tragedy, they remain inseparable, inexorably bound together, standing tall in the face of the dawn.

tldr AND DARLING DARLINGGGG STANDDDD MY MEEEE

screenshots from ardynizunya on twitter and the final fantasy fan wiki -- please let me know if you need credit for any of these! ;o;/

[borisbubbles]

Character analysis: Vivienne de Fer (Dragon Age Inquisition)

So, if you’ve wondered where I popped off to the past two months or so, I’m going to give you an answer - I finally bought Dragon Age Inquisition (legit on my gaming wishlist since its 2014 release) and I’ve been obsessed with it ever since. 

The main draw to this game however, isn’t so much the gameplay (if you want a game that feels similar but has better gameplay - Assassin’s Creed Odyssey is what you’d want instead), but the storytelling and particularly the character development are top notch. All nine companions are fascinating and fleshed out in such a realistic manner I’m still gasping in awe on my fifth playthrough.  Thus, a post on it is in order. It’s a bit different from my usual content, but don’t let that discourage you - clearing my head from Dragon Age will allow me to let Eurovision back in and continue my unfinished 2020 ranking.  In this post, I will be analyzing one of DAI’s most interesting characters - none other than Madame de Fer herself, Vivienne.  Now, I’m under the impression that this is a rather unpopular opinion but I absolutely love Vivienne. And no, I won’t apologize for it. As a Templar-thumping elitist with a icy, sardonic demeanor the sheer ‘Idea Of A Vivienne’ is meant to make your head spin. Dragon Age has always been a franchise in which mages are a socially surpressed group and to be confronted with a socially confident enchantress who likes Templars and seemingly supports the social shunning out of her own ambition is the walking embodiment of flippancy. 

and yet, I feel a lot of sympathy for Vivienne. 

Yes, she’s a bitch. She knows she’s one and she’s a-ok with it. I won’t argue with that. Sadly, the “Vivienne is a bitch” rhetoric also drastically sells her short. Vivienne is highly complex and her real personality is as tragic as it is twisted. 

Madame de Fer

So let’s start with what we are shown on the surface. Vivienne is a high-ranking courtier from an empire notable for its deadly, acid-laced political game. She seemingly joins the Inquisition for personal gain, to acrue reputation and power, and eventually be elected Divine (= female pope) at the end of the game. She presents herself as a despicable blend of Real Housewife, Disney Villain, and Tory Politician, all rolled into one ball of sickening, unctuous smarm. Worse, the Inquisitor has no way to rebuke Vivienne’s absurd policies and ideas. You can’t argue with her, convince her to listen to your differing viewpoints or even kick her out the Inquisition. She has a way with words where she can twist arguments around in such a fashion that she lands on top and makes the other person look like the irrational party.

“Thus speaks the Inquisitor who has made so many mature and level-headed choices so far. Such as releasion malcontents upon the population without safeguards to protect them should they turn into abominations. Very wise. I rearranged some furniture. Lives aren’t thrown into jeopardy by my actions. Perhaps a little perspective is needed.”

She’s Cersei Lannister on creatine, Dolores Umbridge on motherfucking roids. If you look at merely the surface, then yes, Vivienne looks like the worst person ever created. I love a good anti-villainess however, and she’s definitely one. 

Yet, she never actually does anything ‘evil’? Yes, she is ‘a tyrant’ as a Divine, but 1) the person saying this is Cassandra, whose dislike for mage freedom is only matched by her dislike of being sidelined 2) Divine Vivienne isn’t bad to mages either? (hold that thought, I’ll get to it). She never actually sabotages the Inquisition, no matter how low her approval with the Inquisitor gets. She never attempts to stop them, no matter how annoyed she is. She’s one of the most brutally honest companions in the cast, in fact. (It always surprises me people call her a ‘hypocrite’ - you keep using that word and it doesn’t mean what you think it means.) The ‘worst’ display of character is when she attempts to break up Sera and the Inquisitor and even then - are we going to pretend Sera isn’t a toxic, controlling girlfriend with a huge chip on her shoulder? I love Sera, but come on.  

Vivienne is a character where the storytelling rule of Show, Don’t Tell is of vital importance. The Orlesian empire is an empire built around posturing and reputation. Nobody really shows their true motivations or character, and instead builds a public façade. It’s like how the Hanar (the Jellyfish people) in Mass Effect have a Public name they use in day-to-day life, and a Personal Name for their loved-ones and inner circle. Vivienne’s ‘Public Visage’ is that of Madame de Fer - this is the Vivienne who openly relishes in power, publicly humiliates grasping anklebiters with passive-aggressive retorts, the woman who is feared and loathed by all of Orlais, and this is the Face you see for most of the game.

The real beauty of Vivienne’s character and the reason why I love her as much as I do (which is to say - a LOT) are the few moments when - what’s the phrase DigitalSpy love so much - Her Mask Slips, and you get a glimpse of the real woman underneath the hennin.

This is the Vivienne who stands by you during the Siege of Haven and approves of you when you save the villagers from Corypheus’s horde.

This is the Vivienne who comforts you when you lament the losses you suffered.

This is the Vivienne who admires you for setting an example as a mage for the rest of Thedas.

This is the Vivienne who worries about Cole’s well-being during his personal quest, momentarily forgetting who or what he is. 

This is the Vivienne who, when her approval for the Inquisitor reaches rock bottom, desperately reminds him of the suffering mages go through on a day-to-day basis because of the fear and hatred non-mages are bred to feel towards them and how this can spiral into more bloodshed without safeguards. 

This is the Vivienne who shows how deep her affection for Bastien de Ghislain truly is, by bringing you along during his dying moments. I love this scene btw. This is the only moment in the entire game where Vivienne is actually herself in the presence of the Inquisitor - needless to say, I consider anyone who deliberately spikes her potion a motherfucking psychopath ^_^)

“There is nothing here now” fuck I *almost* cried at Vivienne, get out of my head BioWare, this is WRONG -- people who delude themselves this is an irredeemable character. 

So, who is Vivienne really?

Understanding Vivienne requires recognizing that the mask and the real woman aren’t the same person. I think her relationship with Dorian is the prime example of this. I love the Vivienne/Dorian banter train, obviously - an unstoppable force of sass colliding with an unmovable wall of smarm is nothing short of a spectacle. However, there’s more to it than their highly entertaining snipes. As the incredibly gifted son of a magister, Dorian represents everything Vivienne should despise, and should be a natural enemy to her. And yet, she doesn’t and he isn’t.. Their gilded japes at each other are nothing more than verbal sparring, not dissimilar to how Krem and Iron Bull call each other names when they beat each other with sticks. In what I think is one of the most brilliantly written interactions between characters in DAI, I present Vivienne’s reaction when the Inquisitor enters a romance with Dorian:

Vivienne: I received a letter the other day, Dorian. Dorian: Truly? It's nice to know you have friends. 🙄 Vivienne: It was from an acquaintance in Tevinter expressing his shock at the disturbing rumors about your... relationship with the Inquisitor. Dorian: Rumors you were only too happy to verify, I assume. 🙃 Vivienne: I informed him the only disturbing thing in evidence was his penmanship. 🙂 Dorian: ...Oh. Thank you. 😳 Vivienne: I am not so quick to judge, darling. See that you give me no reason to feel otherwise.

Madame de Fer can never be seen directly expressing approval to a relationship between the Herald of Andraste and an ‘Evil’ Tevinter ’Magister’. By this subtle, subtle conversation, Vivienne indirectly tells Dorian that she considers him a good match for the Inquisitor and approves of the romance. It’s one of those reasons why I could never truly dislike Vivienne - between the layers of elegant poison lies a somewhat decent woman who never loses sight of the bigger picture. Not a good person maybe, but not one without some redeeming qualities.

The crux of Vivienne’s personality is that she, like all DAI companions, is a social outcast. She’s a mage in a fantasy setting where mages are psionically linked to demons, and grew up in a country where the majority religion has openly advocated the shunning and leashing of mages (’Magic exists to serve man’ - the Chantry is so, so vile in this game.). Vivienne’s “gift” was discovered so early in her life that she can barely remember her parents. Vivienne grew up in a squalid boarding school, learning from a young age that she’s dangerous and her talents need to be tamed and curbed. She is also terrified of demons, as her banters with Cole point out:

Cole: You're afraid. You don't have to be. Vivienne: My dear Inquisitor, please restrain your pet demon. I do not want it addressing me. Inquisitor: He's not doing any harm, Vivienne. Vivienne: It's a demon, darling. All it can do is harm. Cole: Everything bright, roar of anger as the demon rears. No, I will not fall. No one will control me ever again. Cole: Flash of white as the world comes back. Shaking, hollow, Harrowed, but smiling at templars to show them I'm me. Cole: I am not like that. I can protect you. If Templars come for you, I will kill them. Vivienne: Delightful. 😑

Vivienne’s Harrowing is implied to have been such a traumatizing event to her that she’s developed a pavlovian fear of demons ever since. (Hence her hostility towards Cole.). Vivienne is fully aware of the inherent dangers of magic, and projects this onto all other mages. 

Besides, given how Dragon Age has a history with mages doing all sorts of fucked up shit, ranging from blood magic, murder, demonic possession and actual terrorism (yes, *ElthinaBITCH* had it coming, but let’s not pretend like Anders/Justice was anything other than a terrorist), Vivienne’s policies of controlled monitoring and vigilance are actually significantly more sensible than the options of ‘unconditionally freeing every mage all over Thedas’ and ‘reverting back to the status quo before the rebellion’. They’re flawed policies, obviously. When Vivienne says “mages” she pictures faceless silhouettes foremost and not herself. Regardless, unlike Cassandra and Leliana, Vivienne is aware of the fear others harbour for her kind, and how hard it is to overcome such perceptions.  

Additionally, Vivienne’s a foreigner. She is an ethnic Rivaini, a culture associated with smugglers and pirates (Isabela from DAO and DA2 is half-Rivaini). This adds an additional social stigma, again pointed out by Cole:

Cole: Stepping into the parlor, hem of my gown snagged, no, adjust before I go in, must look perfect. Vivienne: My dear, your pet is speaking again. Do silence it. Cole: Voices inside. Marquis Alphonse. Cole: "I do hope Duke Bastien puts out the lights before he touches her. But then, she must disappear in the dark." Cole: Gown tight between my fingers, cold all over. Unacceptable. Wheels turn, strings pull. Cole: He hurt you. You left a letter, let out a lie so he would do something foolish against the Inquisition. A trap. Vivienne: Inquisitor, as your demon lacks manners, perhaps you could get Solas to train it.

This is the only palpable example of the casual racism Vivienne has to endure on a daily basis - Marquis Alphonse is a stupid, bigoted pillowhead who sucks at The Game, but remember - Vivienne only kills him if the Inquisitor decides to be a butthurt thug. She is aware that for every Alphonse, there are dozens of greasy sycophants who think exactly like he does, and will keep it under wraps just to remain in her good graces. 

Finally, there’s the social position Vivienne manufactured for herself, which is the weak point towards her character imo. Remember, this woman is a commoner by birth. She doesn’t even have a surname. Through apparently sheer dumb luck (or satanic intervention) she basically fell into the position of Personal Mage to the Duke of Ghislain. Regardless, ‘Personal mages’ were the rage in Orlesian nobility, and the prestigious families owned by them like one may own a pet or personal property. By somehow becoming Bastien de Ghislain’s mistress and using his influence, "Madame de Fer” liberated herself from all the social stigmata which should have pinned her down into a lowly courtier rank and turned the largely ceremonial office of “Court Enchanter” into a position of respect and power. This is huge move towards mage emancipation by the way, in a society where, again, Mages are feared and shunned and are constantly bullied, emasculated and taught to hate their talents. Vivienne is a shining example of what mages can become at the height of their power. Power she has, mind you, never actually abused before her Divine election. Vivienne’s actions will forever be under scrutiny not because of who she is, but because of what she is. The Grand Game can spit her out at any moment, which will likely result in her death. 

Inquisitor: “You seem to be enjoying yourself, Vivienne?” Vivienne: “It’s The Game, darling. If I didn’t enjoy it, I’d be dead by now.”

Whether Vivienne was using Bastien for her own gain or whether she truly loved him isn’t a case of or/or. It’s a case of and/and. The perception that she was using Bastien makes Vivienne more fearsome and improves her position in the Grand Game, but deep down, I have no doubts truly loved him. Remember, Vivienne’s position at the Orlesian court was secure. She had nothing to gain by saving Bastien’s life, but she attempted to anyway. That Bastien’s sister is a High Cleric doesn’t matter - Vivienne can be elected Divine regardless of her personal quest’s resolution. She loved him, period. 

No, I don’t think Vivienne is a good person. She treats those she deems beneath her poorly, like Sera, Solas, Cole and Blackwall (characters I like less than Vivienne), which I think is the #1 indicator for a Bad Personality. But I don’t think she qualifies as ‘Evil’ either and I refuse to dismiss the beautiful layering of her character. I genuinely believe Vivienne joined the Inquisition not just for her personal gain, but also out of idealism, similar to Dorian (again, Cole is 100% correct in pointing out the similarities between Dorian’s and Vivienne’s motivations for joining, as discomforting it is to her). 

In her mind, Vivienne sees herself as the only person who can emancipate the mages without bloodshed - her personal accomplishments at the Orlesian court speak for themselves. Vivienne isn’t opposed to mage freedom - she worries for the consequences of radical change, as she believes Orlesian society unprepared for the consequences. Hence why she’s perfectly fine with a Divine Cassandra. Hence why her fellow mages immediately elect her Grand Enchanter of the new Circle. 

Hence why Vivienne is so terrified by the Inquisitor’s actions if her disapproval gets too low. The Inquisitor has the power to completely destroy everything she has built and fought for during her lifetime. Remember: Vivienne’s biggest fear is irrelevance - there’s no greater irrelevance than having your life achievements reverse-engineered by the accidental stumbling of some upstart nobody. This is the real reason why she joins, risks her life and gets her hands dirty - the only person whose competence Vivienne trusts, is Vivienne’s own. 

Even as Divine Victoria, I’d say she’s not bad, at all actually. Vivienne has the trappings of an an Enlightened Despot, maintaining full control, while simultaneously granting mages more responsibility and freedom, slowly laying the foundations to make mages more accepted and less persecuted in southern Thedas. Given that Ferelden is a feudal fiefdom and Orlais is an absolute monarchy, this is a fucking improvement are you kidding me. (Wait did he just imply Vivienne is secretly the best Divine - hmm, probably not because Cass/Leliana have better epilogues - but realistically speaking, yes, Viv should be the best Divine and it’s bullshit that the story disagrees.) 

Underneath the countless layers of smarm, frost and seeming callousness, lies a fiercely intelligent and brave woman, whose ideals have been twisted into perversion by the cruel, ungrateful world around her. Envy her for her ability to control her destiny, but know that envy is what it is.  

The flaw in Vivienne’s character isn’t so much the ‘tyranny’ or the ‘bitchiness’ or the 'smarm’. Her flaw is her false belief that she is what the mages need the most. Her belief that her competence gives her the prerogative to serve the unwashed mage masses... by ruling over them. For all intents and purposes, Vivienne is an Orlesian Magister and this will forever be the brilliant tragedy of her character. She was created by a corrupt institution that should, by all accounts fear and loathe her but instead embraced her. It’s that delirious irony that makes Vivienne de Fer one of the best fictional characters in RPG history.  the next post will be Eurovision-related. :-) 

[strangeradventuresofp]

protect you (geralt x reader)

warnings : language !

requested by : @wellfuckmyexistence​ -  I know you are probs swamped with requests! But I would be hella interested in seeing you write some Geralt X Reader stuff! Maybe reader is also a Witcher? Maybe some cuddles? Maybe some angst? Some arguing??? Idk anything really tbh!

a/n : i tried to do all lol maybe this was too adventurous. i loved writing this! i had so much fun!! thank you so much, i hope you enjoy this<3333

“No, don’t you fucking dare ignore me!” You spat with clenched fists.

The feelings you felt at this moment couldn’t be determined. Your heart felt as if it were shattering in your chest, like fine crystal china breaking, tiny fragments remaining that were finer that dust. It felt like your heart had been punctured a million times over by thousands of tiny pins; it stings at first, but now it leaves you numb – not even remotely painful, just numb. Your entire body ached with such an overwhelming vigour. For the first time in your life you had felt exhausted. And it terrified you.

Being a witcher surely had it perks, enhanced agility, healing abilities, augmented strength. But it also came with a huge stigma, that was completely untrue. ‘Witchers can’t feel emotion’. Boy, if you had a coin for every time you had heard those words. It frustrated you beyond frustration. Sure, you were pretty much created to be soulless beasts, but that wasn’t the case. You were still a human, only with these superhuman abilities. You hated that you were looked down upon to be entirely emotionless. If anything, you thought that you felt emotions more. Especially the strong ones. Arousal, anger. Love. And that was exactly what had happened.

Geralt of Rivia, perhaps one of, if not the, most famous witchers about. He was easily distinguishable. His pale face and white hair made it obvious to tell that it was him. You had met him in an inn one night.

Apparently, you had caused a ruckus, which you didn’t. It was a perfectly normal reaction to a drunk stranger grabbing your arse. Needless to say, he was up against the wall with a knife against his neck within the same second. It gave you so much satisfaction to watch him squirm and hear him plead for his life, all the while hearing the others in the bar shouting foul things to you. You had heard worse, so you didn’t exactly care. That was when this huge man stood up from his solitary corner and made his way over to you. He leant into your ear, words rumbling from his chest.

“Let him go.” He commanded and you chuckled.

“And what if I don’t? You’re gonna stop me, are you?”

“Let him go.” He repeated, more demanding this time. Rolling your eyes, you forced your knife further against his throat before letting go. The man scampered off and you turned to face whoever the deep voice belonged to with a scowl.

When your eyes landed on him, you recognised him immediately, but you refused to acknowledge that you knew him. He looked confused, stepped back a little as if to get a better look of you.

“If you want to stare, why don’t we get a room?” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips.

His face didn’t falter. “You’re a witcher.”

“Lucky guess. What do you want?” He looked at you, puzzled. “I doubt you came up to me to save me from a situation that I clearly wasn’t struggling in. So, I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

“So hostile.” Geralt took a lock of your hair between his fingers before flicking it from your shoulder. A small smirk washed over his lips and you found yourself staring. It wasn’t long after that that you were pinned against the wall by his frame, his face in your neck and his fingers fumbling to get your clothes off of your body.

From that moment, you had travelled with him and Jaskier, the bard that named himself Geralt’s companion. It was nice. You enjoyed Geralt’s company, despite him being a complete brood most of the time. It was nice to have someone understand your struggles and how fucked up you were. You were both turned against your will. It felt good to have someone understand that. As for Jaskier, he was kind to you. You had told him many times that you liked his voice. He often invited you to sing with him, since you had admitted that you often sang to help yourself through witcher training. It led to him subtly changing the words to one of the songs he sang on your adventures; ‘Toss a coin to your witchers, O Valley of Plenty.’

You and Geralt had a very complicated relationship. There were feelings involved on your side and distant ones on his. He had shared your bed many nights, much to the complaint of Jaskier. You understood him and he understood you better than you knew yourselves. You loved him.

One night, after sharing your bed in an inn, he had disappeared into thin air. Neither you nor Jaskier had the slightest idea of where he went. A terrible feeling started to grow in your stomach the longer he did not return to you. Many nights you and Jaskier ate alone. You were not yourself. Jaskier noticed.

“Y/N—”

“I have this awful feeling, Jask, in my stomach. It feels like knots are being tied with my insides. I don’t know what it means; I have never felt it before.”

He let out a small laugh. “You’re worried for him.”

“I am not.” You urged with a scowl. But when you thought about it, the feeling began the morning you had woke up and not found him. You searched outside for Roach, but she was nowhere to be found either. It grew more every day that Geralt didn’t come back.

Now, he had returned, and you were angry. Angry was an understatement. It took everything in you not to bury your knife into his chest the moment he stepped through the inn door.

You slammed the door shut, enclosing the both of you inside the room that you had been living in for months on end. “Where did you go?”

“None of your business.”

“Where the hell did you go?” The poison in your voice would’ve made any other flinch. It pissed you off how Geralt didn’t seem to take you seriously when you were angry. He lay on the bed, just looking at you. Your eyebrows drew further together.

“I can’t believe I told you I loved you.” He avoided your gaze. And in that moment, suddenly everything made sense. The morning that you had awoken to find him missing, the night before you had tiredly let it slip that you loved him. “Is that why?

Did you even plan on coming back?” Quite quickly your eyes were pooling with tears, threatening to fall if he ignored you once more. The tremor in your voice was something that caught his attention and he sat up, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“It was a temporary trip. I came back.” Geralt showed no other indication of his feelings.

“I’m so stupid.” Your breathing was raggedy as you buried your head in your hands, begging for your tears to stay put.

“Witchers can’t feel.” A lie. Why was he trying to lie to you? He didn’t even know himself.

“Come on, Geralt. You and me both know that’s horseshit.” When he didn’t respond, you took the initiative and moved to the bedside table, snatching your knife from it and a small sack of money. Spinning around, you swung the door open, rushing down the inn stairs. You heard him call out your name, but you ignored him. As you tossed the money to the innkeeper, you opened the door that led you outside. Quickly, you mounted your horse, grabbing the reigns.

You felt a hand on your knee.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jask. I can’t stay here anymore, not with that brooding prick about. I’m sorry.”

“But Y/N—”

“I hope we meet again, Jask. You’re a good friend. One which I don’t deserve.” You gave him a half smile before riding off out of the village. Jaskier called your name with a frown as you set off.

~~~

You were a few days ride out of whatever village you were staying in before. It was dark. You unsure of what day it was exactly, and whether it was night or early morning. There was a fire to keep you warm and your cloak, but you used it as a pillow. You had tried the first night to sleep without something to support your head but woke up with a crick in your neck. Supposedly, spending months in an inn that had pillows had meant that you had built quite a tolerance to having one. In complete honest, you had no idea where you were. But you were away from Geralt of Rivia, and that was all that mattered. It was not easy to let the one you loved go, just like it is not easy to fall in love in the first place. This was something you had yet to learn, for Geralt was the first that you had ever truly loved. Sure, you had had harmless flings, but they are harmless. They mean nothing. It was supposed to be the same with him. It turned out to be a lot more harmful to your feelings that it had meant to be.

A snap in the wood behind you captured your attention from your thoughts and you stood, placing your hand firmly on the hilt of your knife on your belt, facing the danger.

“Who’s there?” You cautioned, teeth gritting whilst your eyes adjusted to the darkness beyond the trees. You waited. When you heard another noise to the left of you, you grabbed the lurking body, pushing it hard against a tree. At least you thought you did. The cold of the tree gave you goosebumps up your back and you blinked, attempting the make out the face of the shadow that held its blade against your throat. You stuck your chin up, giving them more access to the skin of your neck. If they were going to cut your throat, they best do it well.

But they released you.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to try to attack me?” The familiar voice made your heart ache.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Pushing his body further away from yours, you sat back down beside the fire, warming your hands by it and rubbing them together. You felt his eyes on you. “If you’re going to just stare at me, fuck off.” Just as you finished your sentence, you shivered. You let out a breath.

Suddenly a pair of large, strong hands wrapped themselves around your figure and pulled you back against a warm, firm object. You could feel his breath against your skin, and you frowned.

“Why did you come looking for me?”

“I was worried.” He said, and your heart fluttered in your chest, though your scowl deepened.

“I am the only female to have ever survived becoming a witcher, and you were worried for me?”

“Hm.” He mumbled.

You sighed deeply. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Being near you. Indulging in my fantasies.” A small chuckle left your lips. “I can’t be around you, Geralt. Not while I still care about you.”

He huffed. “I care about you.” Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around you, as if he would never let you go.

“But, if that’s true, then why—”

“It was dangerous. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

“So instead you left me for months on end after I admitted that I loved you?”

“I was protecting you.”

“You needn’t protect me, Geralt. Don’t you know this by now? I can hold my own. Stop trying to protect me.”

“Never.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and you smiled. You were still angry at him, obviously, who wouldn’t be? “…Do you still…?”

“Do I still, what?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You chuckled. “It’s not easy to fall in love. It’s harder to fall out of love.” Spinning yourself around in his arms, you looked at him.

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Geralt of Rivia.” He hummed contently at your confession and slid his hand to the back of your neck. He pulled you forward, and you found that his lips were on yours. It wasn’t like the other times that you had shared kisses. This one had an innocence to it. You were being authentically unapologetically yourselves and you were happy to accept each other like that. Like lovers. You were in love with each other.

The two of you spent the night in the forest, cuddled against each other by the fire. And Jaskier was stuck at the inn, with no knowledge of where either of you were.

masterlist

[drspencerweed]

Spencer blurb/concept for maybe reader (his wife) being considered the baby of the team, (she's fairly new having transferred from homicide) and Morgan/JJ/Emily joke she's a baby until she takes down an unsub by herself who's like huge and they're like :OOOOO and Spencer is like :DDDDD "oh by the way that's my wife guys" all casual as they have team drinks after the case

so im not sure i completely understand here, does the team not know they’re together? I just can’t imagine spencer getting married and not telling the team especially if hes marrying someone else on the team lmao

I’m still gonna write out the first part of this as a little blurb but I just don’t fully get the ending im sorry >.< 

----

Ever since you joined the team everyone on the team has teased you for being small. You stood at barely 5′2″, and next to everyone else you definitely seemed very, very short. When you started dating Spencer, the tallest one on the team, the jokes got even worse. Morgan consistently called you Spencer’s “Jetpack” since the day Spencer let it slip that he was often the little spoon between you two. It didn’t help that you were not only physically the smallest, but also the youngest. They consistently underestimated you, and believed you were only good for your profiling brain and not for the more physical aspects of the job.

It had been two years and somehow the chance to prove yourself hadn’t really come up until now. 

Morgan was a few paces behind you, running through the forest after an UnSub. He had kidnapped and murdered four men in the past four weeks, and he was not a small man. He was probably 6′4″, and was built like an NFL player. “[Y/N]! Fall back!” Morgan called, but you ignored him. You might not have been as strong as him, but you were faster. You knew you could catch this guy. 

When you finally caught up to him, you tackled him from behind, throwing him down to the ground. The large man quickly pushed you off of his back and tried to keep going, but you stood up and placed a foot in between his shoulder blades. Leaning down you managed to get him handcuffed as he struggled, and by the time Morgan reached the two of you, you were guiding him off of the ground. He was still struggling, looking like he would bolt any second, and so Morgan gripped his other arm and you both led him out of the forest to where the rest of the team and some local cops were waiting. 

When you and Morgan pushed the man into the car, the rest of the team came over to ask what had happened. Hotch immediately deferred to Morgan, assuming he had made the arrest. 

“Not me, Hotch. This one was all [Y/N].” Morgan said, patting you on the back. You blushed as you stepped forward and recounted what had happened in the woods. 

Spencer was standing next to Hotch, and was beaming at you the entire time. He knew how hard you trained, the hours spent in the gym to maintain field status and stay confident in your abilities to do your job. As soon as the rest of the team was gone, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you in a circle while you laughed. 

“That’s my girl.” He said as he put you down, and then pulled you in for a quick kiss. 

“Oi, Jetpack, Pretty boy! Let’s get moving.” Morgan called.

Maybe you had proved yourself, but some things would never change. 

[drazzilder]

Half Hot

By Drazzilder 

@justmewoo requested a story. I think there will be more to this but this is the first part, hope you all enjoy!

You are rushing to the hospital. Not even red lights can stop you from getting there as fast as possible. Your mother was in a severe car accident and the doctor on the phone said to come immediately. When you arrive, you quickly talk to one of the front desk nurses and find your mother’s room. Upon entering, you see numerous machines all around her, keeping her alive. It takes all of your will power not to cry when approaching the bed. She is asleep but her eyes open when you grab her hand.

“(Y/N)….” She barely whispers.

“I’m here. Its ok.”

“You know I’m not going to make it.” She says this while looking at you with a loving and apologetic face.

You begin to cry. “I know.”

“I need to tell you something before I go.”

“Anything…”

“I lied to you about your father.”

“What?” your tears are stopped almost immediately when hearing this.

“He didn’t die of a drug overdose. Your father is alive.”

“Wait? Who is he?”

“He’s the number one hero…”

“Endeavor? That’s impossible!?”

“He came to America a long time ago and I did things I regret but I’m happy I can tell you now.”

“That’s why you made me learn Japanese?”

“Yes, I was preparing you for this one day. I’m sorry I lied.”

“Mom….” You squeeze her hand a little tighter as you start to cry again.

“Oh, and Happy 25th Birthday…” The heart monitor holds its tone. You cry at the side of the bed until a nurse comes into the room. She tells you she is sorry for your loss but you get up and head to the front desk. After getting all of the paperwork figured out, you head home. You still lived at home with your mother, so going to an empty home is going to be hard. You were between jobs and you had not much to your name. When you get home, you see a small cake with “Happy Birthday!” written on it. The cake ends up in the trash out of sadness and anger. All this time, you had a father a world away and yet your mother never told you. It would explain your quirk, only being able to heat your hands up but not create any flames. The sulking stops when you open your laptop and look up tickets to Japan.

Endeavor may be the number one hero and you admired him for so long but you need to talk to him. He is even a hero in your eyes, you being a big fan of him. You even have a room almost filled to the brim with Endeavor toys, posters, plushies and more. “I have nothing left, might as well try…” you think as you book the plane tickets. The week wait felt like an entirety but when you got on the plane, your heart was racing. Once on the ground, it isn’t long before you arrive at the Endeavor agency. When you enter, the shock on the secretary’s face tells you that you are in the right place. You never really noticed before but you look like the spitting image of Endeavor. 6’3’’, wide frame, square jaw line, blue eyes, crimson red hair.

“I am here to speak to Endeavor, is he available.?” You say as the words look like they flying over the poor secretary’s head.

“I-I… let me call him and let him know he has a…. visitor.” She is trying to best to hide her shock but you know that it can’t be helped. After she hangs up, she walks you nervously to the office. The doors open and she motions you inside. The big man himself is in his office chair, looking down at his work. He doesn’t even look up when you enter.  

“Hello, uh…Mr. Endeavor sir.”

He responds without even looking up. “You speak Japanese fairly well, however your American accent shines through. I can tell you learned from a native speaker. What do you need?”

“Um… Thank you. I… My name is (Y/N), I don’t know how to say this easily but I think I am your son.”

“What makes you say….” The number 1 hero is stopped in his tracks as he looks up. His body language changed in an instant, those words ringing in his head. When he finally can move again, it looks like he saw death himself. With mouth slightly agape, he just stares for a while then he manages to speak.

“Wa… how…why…”

“My mom told me. She said you visited America and you two met.”

The cogs start spinning in the hero’s head as he starts to remember the past. “Stella?” is all he can manage to remember.

“That was her name.”

“Was? Does that mean…”

“Yes, she passed away.”

“Oh…. And you are about 25 years old?”

“Yes. My birthday was last week actually, the same day she died.”

“What happened?”

“A car accident.”

“I…. I am sorry.”

“It was an accident.”

“No, I mean yes I am sorry about that. I really mean that I am sorry I was never there. Did you have a father as a child?”

“No, it was just me and mom.”

Under his breath “God, why did I….” Then he speaks normally again “I am sorry I did that to you. I guess you are here now because you wanted to find out if I really was your father.”

“That and I have nothing left at home. I didn’t have a job, my mom is dead, no family on her side is left. I had nothing left to live for so I decided to start fresh. Even if you were not my dad I could always start anew here.”

“That doesn’t need to happen. You are more than welcome to stay with me.”

“I don’t need that, I can j- “

“No, I insist. I need to make this up to you. I need to….” the man sounds like he is about to choke but he manages to calm himself before getting up and hugging you. Even though you are almost as tall as him, you are not nearly as built and he feels huge. His hug feels nice, something you never had as a child. The hug breaks and you feel cold again but the look on Endeavor’s face makes you forget about that. It looks like he has been beaten down. You don’t get much time to think about it when he offers to take you home with him after he finishes for the day. Of course, you agree. A sidekick takes you on a tour around the agency until it is time to go and Endeavor gets a ride for the two of you to get home.

The Todoroki residence is a large traditional style Japanese home with a massive property for being in the city. When you enter the home, something feels off. It is stale, lifeless and empty. You look around and see not a single sign of life around, that is until you find a photo frame. This a picture of Endeavor standing next to a frail looking woman with a small boy with red and white hair.

“Is this your family?” you ask while he is in another room.

“Yes…” he almost sighs.

“What are their names?”

“R-Rei is my wife. The children are Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto.”

“Wait, I only see one child in the photo.” You wait for a response but you only hear silence. When he comes to the room, he acts like that question was never spoken.

“Where is your family?”

“They are not here. They live in another home.”

“Is it too much to ask why?”

“It is for their safety.”

“Oh, that makes sense you being the number one hero and all.” You take a moment to settle in. Endeavor takes you to a guest bedroom and you unpack your small bag. It isn’t long till there is some dinner made and you sit eating with him in silence again.

“You know when I found out you where my dad, I freaked out.” This doesn’t get much of a response from him so you continue. “To be the son of the number one hero, the fire hero himself, I was so excited. I have a heat quirk but all I can do is just make my hands really hot, kinda useless. But it makes sense that I got this quirk from you.”

Endeavor just chews quietly until he swallows heavily and manages to speak. “I…. When I saw you in my office, I knew you were my son. You look just like me. I am sorry that you had to go all that time without a father, without me being there. It isn’t right. I should have been there, I should have…..” He trails off before looking back at his bowl of rice.

“It is ok. You didn’t know.”

“Was your life, ok?”

“I guess. There were times where we had it rough but every family goes through that.”

He just sighs. “That…. It didn’t have to be that way.”

“Hey, I am here now. We can work on it now.”

“You are right. Let me make this right. I want to be a good father to you. I will take tomorrow off so we can start to work on that.”

“Ok, that’s a little fast but sounds good.”

“Thank you.” You wonder why he is thanking you but you think his emotions must be high from everything that has happened today. You find your way back to the guest room and fall asleep almost instantly from the jet lag. The morning is filled with the smell of a traditional Japanese breakfast. In the kitchen, Endeavor is waiting for you.

“Good morning, I hope you slept alright.”

“I did and thank you for cooking, it looks great!”

“You are welcome. I wanted to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

“You never knew who your father was until recently?”

“No, my mom never said a word. She told me that he died of a drug overdose.”

“I see. Did you know who I was before this?”

“Yes, I knew you were the number 2 then number 1 hero. It’s a little funny, I actually had a whole room full of Endeavor stuff. I am a huge fan.”

“What do you mean ‘had’?”

“I sold everything I had left to come here.”

“Oh…. I have one last question. Did you want to meet the rest of the family?”

“I-If they want to. I would love to but I don’t want to impose.”

“I will call and see if they are up to it right after breakfast.” It isn’t long before the food is finished end Endeavor is on his phone. He called his daughter and isn’t on the phone long before he comes back.

“They will be here later in the week. Is there anything you wanted to do today?”

“I never have been around Japan before; we can go anywhere.”

“I have some ideas. Let’s go.”

The two are headed out. They walk to the nearest station and take a train to the center of the city. The looks you got on the train were a mix between shocked and horror seeing two people who looked like the number one hero. Once in the city, Endeavor is quick to show you around. He takes you to the major landmarks, the hot spots for people your age, and even some of his favorite spots to eat. Around noon, you go to a local yakitori shop and enjoy some of the local cuisine. Lunch ends and then he wants to take you to one last place before head back. It isn’t long before you are both at a traditional Japanese temple. You take your time to walk around and take in all of the sights and respect the culture the best you can. He knows you are trying your best to understand and helps when he can.

The whole week goes something like this. Endeavor took the whole week off work early each day to spend time with you. Sometimes you went into the city, other times you went more into nature either a park or more distant parts of Japan. This is was all so much for you, you now have a father, someone who cares about you. You missed this as a child but now Endeavor is giving you the fatherly attention you always wanted.

The big day is here and you can tell Endeavor is nervous. You both head out before dinner. A small bakery was on your walk so you went inside and bought a cake for everyone to enjoy. Once back home, Endeavor set the table for the family. You are a nervous reck until the doorbell rings.

“Hi dad, what’s with us coming for dinner? Is something wrong?” Fuyumi says before entering. You sit there in shock realizing he didn’t tell them why he called them over. When they all enter the dining room, you look up to stone cold faces.

N: In pure shock “I…Who are you?”

S: “Is this some kind of joke?” He responds with some anger.

F: “Dad?”

E: “This is (Y/N). He is my son.”

N: “WHAT?! You have to be joking!” He starts to get red in the face with anger.

F: “I don’t think dad is, look at him. He looks just like dad.”

S: “This is really shocking to find out.”

(Y/N): “That how I felt when I found out.”

N: “What do you mean when you found out?”

(Y/N): “I only found out a few weeks ago. Please sit down and we can talk. I’m sorry this is all a shock to you.”

S: “This is making me uncomfortable. Can we go?”

E: “Let me make this right.”

N: ��I’m heading out with Shoto.”

E: “Wait!”

N: “No, this is too much. How do you think we would react?”

F: “I don’t know how to process this. What he must have gone through without a father.”

E: “Fuyumi, you too?” He looks at her almost in astonishment.

N: “I can’t believe you did that to him. What kind of father are you anyway?”

Hearing all of this, how they talk to their father, it makes you snap. “This is how you treat your father? He is the number 1 hero. He has saved countless lives and helped take down hundreds if not thousands of villains and yet you treat him like what he is saying means nothing. He makes mistakes but that’s ok, we all do. I would love to have a father like him, I never had one as a kid. He wasn’t there when I was a kid but he wants to make up for it, isn’t that enough?”

You look over to the hero who has gone white. Endeavor turns around and leaves the room quickly. You are about to go after him but are stopped when Natsuo grabs your hand.

N: “You don’t know anything, do you?”

(Y/N): “What?”

F: “Our father isn’t perfect.”

(Y/N): “I’m not saying he is perfect.”

S: “He hurt all of us.”

(Y/N): “How?”

F: “He neglected Natsuo and I because we were not perfect to replace him. He hurt Shoto by training him too hard and our mom had a breakdown and hurt Shoto. We didn’t even know much about Shoto until recently because we were kept away from our brother.”

N: “The worst of it is that our oldest brother died because of what dad did to him. He was pushed too hard as a kid.”

S: “All of this just to be better than All Might.”

(Y/N): “What?”

N: “He only kept having kids until a child had the perfect quirk to be better than himself. He abandoned those without a good quirk.”

S: “And now we find out about you, we didn’t even know we had another brother.”  

N: “Another child of his, ruined…”

You look at all three of them and can tell that they are all telling the truth. The emotions inside start to build again and overflow as you speak. “But…. I finally have a dad…” you start to cry, just a little. “My mom died on my birthday, I have no family, and I have no one to care for me. I finally find out I have a father and maybe a family but you’re telling me all of this.” You cover your face to try to hide your emotions. “Why does everything have to be so hard.”

F: “I’m sorry to tell you all this. But it’s only fair to tell you before you decide anything.”

N: “What did he tell you anyway?”

(Y/N): “He didn’t know I was alive.”

S: “What?”

(Y/N): “When I walked into his office, he looked like he saw a ghost. He said he wished he was there and he wanted to make things right. He has been with me all week, trying to make up for lost time.”

N: “Really… he is trying to help you too?”

(Y/N): “Too?”

F: “Dad is trying to make up for his mistakes. He even had us move to a new house to help us heal.”

(Y/N): “He said it was for your safety.”

N: “Yes, from him.”

F: “Natsuo!”

(Y/N): “I need to go talk to him.”

S: “That might not be a good idea.”

(Y/N): “I don’t care. Just wait here till I come back.”

You leave the dining room and wander the house looking for the number 1 hero. Some sounds start to come from a distant part of the house. As you get closer, the sounds start to morphing into the sounds of crying. You turn the corner and find Endeavor crying in front of a shrine.

“Endeavor?”

The man doesn’t even turn towards you as he speaks through his tears. “Go away…. Please…”

“No. We need to talk.”

“I-I don’t want to be seen like this. A hero should be strong but… I can’t hold it together anymore.”

“You are human, it’s ok to feel overwhelmed.”

“I know they told you about me.”

“They did.”

“Why are you defending me? Why are you still here? This family has fallen apart because of me. My son died because of me. My children were practically abandoned, Shoto was pushed hard day after day. I sent my wife to the mental institution because of what I caused. How can I be a hero if I only hurt those around me…?” His crying starts to grow louder as his emotions start to peak. The only thing you think to do is something that doesn’t come naturally to either of you. You grab his shoulders and turn him to you. He hardly has the will power to fight your movements when you put your arms around him. He weakly places his massive arms around you as he continues his sobs. His head lays limply on your shoulder as you try your best to comfort him.

You barely whisper “Let it out, there is no need to hold it inside anymore.” You look up to see the shrine behind Endeavor. The photo in the center is of a small boy with pure white hair. “Is that him?”

“His name was Touya. He was my first born, well I thought he was, but his quirk only hurt him. After having more children to fill my selfish desire to be better than All Might, he got angry and lost control. He died from his powers. I pushed him too far.”

“I….I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologize.”

“Don’t worry about me, just keep talking.”

It takes a few moments for the man to pull himself together enough to to begin to speak again. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a horrible father. I abandoned you and your mother. All those years without the support of a father; I don’t deserve you in my life. You deserve someone better.” The tone of his voice has change to something you have never heard from him before, something sad and vulnerable, the opposite of what he normally is.

“You are all that I have left, I’m not leaving. I know that I just showed up but from what little I was told, I believe you want to make things better.”

“Why are you staying?”

“I want to be here. Something inside of me is telling me I need to be here. I want a relationship with my family.”

“But…”

“No, I am staying and you can’t stop me. Maybe I can help too.”

“These are my mistakes, I need to atone for them, alone.”

“These are too big for you. You could barely look at me when I first got here. I know you feel guilty but you didn’t even know about me.

“But…. l”

“You don’t have to handle any of this alone, we can all work together but you have to let us in.”

“I…. I don’t know how.”

“How about this: let’s see if we can go back and try to have some dinner, as a family. We can try to talk things out, ok?”

“I guess.” The hero stands and he composes himself for a bit before you both head back down the hall. The tension in the air is still thick as you both sit down.

(Y/N): “I’m sorry if it feels like I am intruding into this family, I just wanted to find out if Endeavor is my father.”

F: “You look just time him; we can tell you are our brother.”

S: “We are sorry we acted the way we did you you, it is not your fault.”

N: Looking at his father “A warning would have been nice.”

E: “I am sorry I didn’t warn you about this when I invited you over. I knew you wouldn’t want to come over if you knew.”

N: “This is still a shock for us.”

F: “(Y/N), you said you didn’t know until recently?”

(Y/N): “My mom kept it a secret from me. She even had me learn Japanese since a child. I never second guessed who I looked until after she told me. She said Endeavor met her in America.”

S: “I didn’t know you went to America.”

E: “It was soon after graduating from UA, I wanted to learn more about the world of heroes and trying to learn from other pro heroes. There I met your mother at an agency, she was the secretary. She knew a lot of the ins and outs of hero work but one night things got a little off topic….”

N: “We don’t need to know the rest.”

S: “You left after that?”

E: “I’m ashamed to say yes. I didn’t know she had a child.”

(Y/N): “It’s ok. I don’t think she wanted you to know.”

S: “You’re probable right. But what makes you think we would accept you in our family?”

(Y/N): “I don’t expect you to anything that makes you uncomfortable. I only came to see if Endeavor was my father. After that, I didn’t really have anything in mind. I would be happy if I could be part of this family. I know it’s anything but perfect but he sounds like he is trying to change things for the better. I don’t know where I fit in this but I want to be included.”

E: “I don’t know how to apologize for everything I did to you all. I abandoned my first child, I neglected others, pushed others too hard. I was so selfish in everything I have done in the past 25 years. I wish I could go back and undo all of it. The amount of guilt I feel every day is almost unbearable but the only thing that pushes me forward is knowing that I need to make up for my mistakes. I don’t want forgiveness; I just want to atone.”

F: “We can see that.”

(Y/N): “What about me?”

F: “Give us time to think about this, all of this.”

(Y/N): “Take all the time you need, I waited 25 years to have a father and siblings, what’s a little more time.”  

[1-800-hellraiser]

EWTBATF Vlahd x Teen!reader Oneshot

(!NOTE: THIS IS NOT A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE READER AND VLAHD, THIS IS A FATHER DAUGHTER TYPE RELATIONSHIP!

Hello! I made this oneshot for people with daddy issues who used to simp for Vlahd but now want him to be your dad. The reader uses they/them pronouns because I want everyone to be able to feel included while reading this.

Vlahd and Eddsworld The Beginning and The Friend doesn't belong to me! It's a fancomic made by Makenzie Matthews, Jaculynn Kristiansen, Alyssa Grissom and Brittany Clark. Eddsworld belongs to Edd Gould. If I use any art in this oneshot I will credit the artist and give their socials.

P.s: If this is well received, I might make a story about this, so stay tuned~

P.p.s: I know this isn't Creepypasta content, but I felt like doing something a bit different.)

!DISCLAIMER! This oneshot deals with a lot of gore, mental, emotional, and physical abuse, fighting, missing body parts, and swearing! If you are sensitive to these topics, I advise you don't read this oneshot! Also, some spoilers for the fancomic EWTBOTF, so if you haven't read it or haven't been reading it for the past few months, I urge you to do so. Not just for this oneshot, but the comic is also pretty good!

Tessellate

Word count: 3,569

Song: Tessellate - Alt J

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

"Three guns, and one goes off. Ones empty, ones not quick enough. One burn, one red, one grin. Search the graves while the camera spins."

The same thing happened every single day. You would wake up to screaming, try to shower and do your morning routine without being interrupted, spend the rest of the day your home trying not to get involved with your parent's marital issues, go to school, do chores, get screamed at for not doing something right, eat dinner, do homework, cry, then go to bed. This was your life since you were ten years old. Your biological father died when you were nine, then your mother got remarried a few months after your tenth birthday.

Your parents were very emotionally and mentally abusive. Sometimes they hit you, but would feign sorrow to try to make you feel safe around them. They continued this behavior for years, until you were thirteen. Apparently, your stepfather had gotten into some shady business with the infamous Red Leader. You had to move from your home country to England so your stepfather could work with the Red Leader. You were miserable, you had lost all of your friends you had in school. You had to go to a private boarding school, you never got picked on, but you found it hard to make friends. After a few moths, you finally got comfortable with your new surroundings.

One day though, that all changed for the worse. Your mom and stepfather got into a huge argument, apparently your mom was cheating on a man in the same army as your stepfather. He hit your mom, your mom left right after that. He then hit you really hard in the face, so hard that it left a mark. You burst into tears and ran to your room. You emptied out your book bag, and threw some clothes, hygienic products, your phone and charger, etc, into it. You quietly walked out of your room and out the front door while your dad wasn't looking. You walked down the streets of your neighborhood and out into the little town a few blocks away.

Popping your earbuds in, you listen to some music to try and calm yourself down. You walk around town for a about an hour before you passed a creepy alleyway. Unbeknownst to you, a man stepped out of that alleyway. He lightly tapped you on the shoulder. You stop dead in your tracks. You shakily turn around and take out your earbud to confront the man. A man with shaggy brown hair, an eyepatch, big eyebrows, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth stood before you. Its Paul, your stepfather's mate!

Paul asked why you weren't at your house and offered to take you back. You explained what happened and Paul was shocked and disgusted with your stepfather's behavior. He took you back to the Red Army base and let you stay there. You agree and he takes you to the base. As soon as you get there, Paul took you to talk with Red Leader himself. Scared, you explain to the Red Leader what happened with your mom and stepdad. Red Leader let you stay on base on one condition. You have to serve in the Red Army when you turn sixteen. You agreed because you had nowhere else to go.

It's been five months since your sixteenth birthday. You have been integrated into the Red Army, and you have made a bunch of freinds on the base. It's not so bad working for the Red Army. You even have a father figure now. Even though you'd never tell him you consider him a father figure, in fear of him not being ready to be a dad and pushing you away. Sargent Major Vlahd has been training you since you were fourteen. You started out being very skittish towards him. You didn't know what he would do to you. Eventually, you two have grown closer and closer together.

Vlahd has been teaching you Russian, and you have been working your ass off during training with him. He has taken you under his wing and now you live with him in an apartment Red Leader has for him. All of Red's most important people have their own apartment-type rooms. Vlahd's is built with a living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and an entire ass library. Your room is right across from Vlahds. You have to do chores in your and Vlahd's apartment as well, but it's a small price to pay for a roof over your head and a non-toxic father figure.

"Y/n, ужины готовы (Y/n, dinner's ready)." Vlahd calls from the kitchen, you get up from your desk and decide to finish your studies later. You walk into the kitchen and see a big pot on the stove, whenever that big pot comes out, you know he's making borscht. You celebrate in silence and take a bowl from the cupboard. You spoon some borscht into your bowl, then you proceed to the dinning room table to sit with Vlahd. A little tradition you both started to do to make tou more comfortable around him. "So, how was your day?" You ask, to get a conversation going. "Все было хорошо, а как насчет твоего (It was okay, what about yours?)?" "Mine was pretty good." You say, spooning some borscht into your mouth.

"О, между прочим, Красный Лидер хочет, чтобы я нашел солдата, который недавно ушел из МВД. Так что завтра тебе не нужно тренироваться или учиться, у тебя выходной (Oh, by the way, Red Leader wants me to go find a soldier who has gone MIA recently. So you don't have to do any training or studies tomorrow, you have the day off.)." Vlahd finishes. You nod your head in understanding. "Who do you have to find?" It was often that soldiers went MIA to try and get out of the army and Red Leader's deal. Red is a ruthless man. "Мэтт, я думаю, его зовут (Matt, I think his name is)."

A small 'ohhhhh' left your mouth. Vlahd has had problems with this soldier before. He was not following orders, so Vlahd was ordered to contain him with any force necessary. That didn't go so well. Apparently, another person with Matt turned into a fucking horned beast and sent Vlahd to the medical wing for two weeks. He had broken two of Vlahds ribs and broke his leg. Finishing up your borscht, you bid Vlahd a goodnight, put your bowl and spoon in the sink, and return back to your room to finish your studies before you go to bed.

You awake to your alarm beeping at you. Sighing, you begrudgingly get up and put on your uniform and proceed to role call . After that, you take off your uniform and pick out your clothes for the day. If you're off duty, you don't have to wear your uniform. You pull out a f/c sweater and a pair of black jeans. You get dressed and go to the bathroom, Vlahd has already left, so you have the bathroom all to yourself. You take a shower and proceed with your morning routine. After you're done, you decide to make yourself some toast and have a nice cup of coffee. After you finish your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and bathroom out of boredom. You pull out your phone and check the time. The digital screen reads 10:36 am, you groan out of boredom. Then, a wonderful idea popped into your head, you decided to take a walk off base.

You made sure to write a note for Vlahd and stuck it on the fridge if he returns before you're back. You also ask Red Leader if it's okay. He said that it was, so you go ahead and take a secret trail off base and into a huge, lush forrest. You stick in some earbuds and continue to walk into the forrest. From this trail, there is a small town on the other side. Usually when the base runs low on food, plates, utensils, etc, there is a store where you can buy things in bulk for cheap. You also know of a small café where you like to get drinks, they have really good tea and coffee. You arrive at Le Café de Campagne and enter. You order your favorite drink off the menu. You pay and sit down at the cute tables. The café was heavily inspired by France, with relatively French architecture and design.

Cute glass tables and tall chairs are scattered around the small café, a gorgeous mural is painted on the back wall near the counter and cash register. The mural depicts a beautiful countryside with a small cottage to the left behind a field of yellow and pink flowers. In the background, snowy-topped mountains and another cottage sit beautifully. The baby blue sky and fluffy clouds pull the entire piece together. Cute black vases hold pink and yellow tulips along with napkins, salt, and pepper. A display counter with delectable sweets ranging from Macaroons to Tarte Tatin sit in the window, ready to be eaten. On top of the display counter sits a miniature Eiffel Tower, and a bunch of other mini versions of popular tourist attractions such as the Louvre and the Notre Dame cathedral. The people who work there are pretty cool as well. You know most if the people that work there, such as Andrea. She's been working at the café since it opened three years ago. She's easily one of the sweetest people you've ever met.

"Y/n, you're order is ready!" Andrea's sweet voice calls to you. "Thank you so much, have a good day Andrea!" "You too Y/n!" She calls as you walk out the door. You continue to stroll through the tiny town, looking into windows of small shops. You stop in front of a small thrift store, you decide to look around. You start in the CD and DVD section. You found a CD of your favorite band, and a Smash Mouth CD, both for lest than a euro. Obviously, you decide to buy them. You go looking around in the long sleeve shirt section. You pulled out a cute blue-grey sweater that says "Big Dick Energy" on it in bold letters, as if it were school apparel. You look at the tag, it's your size and only five euros. You take that with you as well. Moving across to the pants section, you find a cute pair of high waisted black ripped jeans. They're your size and only seven euros, so you take it. You bring your items up to the cashier, you pay, then you leave.

You decide to walk more into the forest. You take a short cut through an alleyway between the thrift store and a small bank. You push past a few stray branches and step over some shrubbery. You walk along a naturally formed pathway, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. You keep walking until you feel a droplet of rain fall on your forehead, then a couple more. You take cover underneath a tree as rain pours from the sky. You slide your small f/c backpack off of your shoulders and pull out a travel sized sketchbook and a pencil case full of pencils and pens. You take out a graphite pencil and begin to sketch out some scenery infront of you. Rows upon rows of tall oak trees sit infront of you, along with a line of small bushes keeping the trees from growing onto that pathway. The dirt pathway is damp with rain water, some weeds and flowers have managed to grow through the pathway.

After you're done, you marvel at your sketch, you're definitely putting this on your wall later. You pack up your sketchbook and utensils. You also manage to fit your new thrifted items into your bag as well. You pick up the cup that houses the few drops left of your drink from the café. You quickly make it back to town and find a garbage can to throw the cup away. The rain is still coming down hard, and it's getting dark out. You pull out your phone and check the time. Your digital screen reads 16:57 (4:57 pm). You slip your phone back into the pocket of your jeans and hurriedly walk back to base. Almost slipping in mud a few times, you make it back to base. Once you enter your and Vlahd's apartment, You speed walk to your room and peel off your soaking wet clothes. You enter the bathroom and toss your clothes into the washer to clean them.

Slipping on the clothes you bought, you put away your CDs, wallet, sketchbook, and pencil case. You flop on your bed, now bored. You decide to re-read your favorite book, you haven't read it in a while. In the middle of you reading your book, you got a text from Vlahd. 'Подойдите к входу в большую базу, это срочно (Come to the big entrance, it's urgent.' The text reads, you respond with an 'okay'. You throw another pair of shows on that aren't soaking wet and speed walk to the big entrance in the base. That entrance is usually used for big shipments of cargo, you wonder what could have happened. Anxiety begins to catch up with you and so many negative thoughts run wild in your head. Your speed walking turns into a jog, which turns into a run, which turns into a sprint. You're dodging soldiers as you sprint down to the big entrance.

"Sargent Major Vlahd!" One of the nurses says in shock. You turn the corner just in time to see Vlahd, kneeled over. Your eyes begin to well up with tears. He's covered in blood, parts of his uniform are gone and replaced with huge gashes, his left arm is completely gone. He looks up at you, he sees you almost in tears, he tries to stand back up, but one of the nurses grabs his arm. "Take him to the infirmary, stat!" She says, trying to hustle him past the crowd that formed behind the nurses. Everyone is talking around you, can't hear anything though because of how shocked and overwhelmed you are. Vlahd tries to say something to you, but he's in so much pain that he cant speak. You have people step aside so the nurses can get through to make it to the infirmary in time.

You follow them to the medical wing, you try to follow them into the infirmary, but they won't let you. That's kind of understandable though, considering he needs emergency surgery to fix his arm, or what he has left of his arm. You see him through the infirmary window. Making eye contact with you, he gives you a weak smile before passing out from blood loss. You decide it's best to go back to your apartment, and wait it out. One of the nurses gave you her number to get updates on how Vlahd is doing. She knows how close you are with him, she could tell by the look in your eyes that you were devastated when he came back. You enter the apartment and go straight to your room.

You can't help but cry. You lost one of your father figures and you sure as hell aren't going to lose another one. In the middle of you sobbing, you get a text from the nurse, saying that Vlahds surgery was successful. He's going to have to stay in the infirmary for two to three weeks, but he's going to recover. You start sobbing harder out of pure joy. You hadn't even realized that you've been sobbing for almost two hours straight. The clock on your phone reads '20:37' (8:37 pm). You quickly go out to the kitchen and heat up some leftover borscht from last night. After you finish dinner, you go to bed. All of that crying made you exhausted.

Waking up was a but hard today, but you knew if you didn't show up for role call, Red Leader would be upset. Nobody want's to upset Red, he's terrifying when he's angry. So, you begrudgingly get up and grab an extra uniform you have. Walking into the bathroom, you remember about your clothes from last night. You take them and shove them in the dryer. You do your morning routine and then throw on your uniform half hazardly in a rush to get to role call. Making it to the role call room a bit early, you check your schedule for today. You have patrol with Paul today and that's it. Patrol is just you and Paul standing outside if the bases main entrance to make sure no one comes that isn't expected. Usually these are six hour shifts, but you only have to do four today. Thankfully its only a four hour shift today, you don't think you're mentally well enough to stay for six.

After role call, you met Paul by the main entrance of the base. You two greeted each other, then stayed silent. Until Paul spoke up, "I'm so sorry kiddo. I know this can be very stressful, especially when someone you're close to gets severely injured. It's really not fair what happened to him. Hopefully, he'll recover soon and things will go back to some sort of normality." You pull Paul into a tight hug. A few tears slip out of your tired eyes.You haven't had the time to really process this information. Now that you are on patrol, you can kinda marinate in your thoughts. You pull away from Paul's embrace, "Thank you Paul, I really needed that." You sigh, wiping away the tears that stuck to your flushed cheeks.

After Patrol, you go back to your apartment and change. You change into the Maroon sweater and jeans that are in the dryer. Before you head to the infirmary, you text the nurse to see if Vlahd is awake. Vlahd is a stong man, so the nurses and doctors had to use a lot of anesthesia to keep him unconscious during surgery. The nurse said he was awake, just a bit groggy. You thank the nurse and haul ass to the infirmary. You arrive at medical wing. The medical wing is confusing as hell to navigate. Its three floors, one is where the receptionist desk is, the waiting room, and all the machines like the x-rays, the cat scans, etc. The second one is used for less severe injuries, the third one is used for intensive care. Vlahd is on floor three, room number 108.

"Hello honey, what brings you to the medical wing today?" The receptionist asks in a heavy Jersey accent. "Hello, I'm here to visit Sargent Major Vlahd." The receptionist nods and types something on her keyboard. "Oh! You're Y/n, correct?" You nod. "Okay, sign this out for me please and write your name on this." She hands you a clipboard with a piece of paper you had to fill out in order to visit someone in intensive care. She also hands you a visitor pass that you stick on your shirt. Kind of like a name tag. You fill out the paperwork and pads, then you put the visitors pass on your sweater. You give the paperwork back to the nurse. "Alright sweetie, you know where Vlahd's room is right?" You nod. "Okay, have a good one!" "You too miss." You respond to the receptionist.

You impatiently ride the elevator up to floor three. As soon as the elevator opens, you speed walk to Vlahds room. Knocking on the door, you wait for permission to enter the room. "You can come in hon." The nurse says from the other side of the door. Proceeding to enter the room, all your attention goes to Vlahd. He looks miserable. "I'll leave you twonalone for a while, just hit the bed alarm if you need me." The nurse says then leaves the room. As soon as the nurse leaves the room. You sit down next to him, and try to hold in your tears. You dont want to overwhelm him more than he probably already is. Vlahd tries to sit up, but you try to make him lay down again, he can't be straining this much. Although, considering Vlahd is a powerhouse of strength, you didn't get very far.

Instead, you gave up on fighting against him. Surprisingly, Vlahd pulls you into a tight hug. "Все в порядке, дорогая, все будет в порядке (It's okay honey, it'll all be okay.)." You broke down once again, sobbing into Vlahd's shoulder. You unknowingly grabbed fistfuls of his gown. "P-please don't ever leave me, I can't handle this, please d-don't ever leave me dad-" you cut yourself off has soon as 'dad' left your mouth. "I'm so sorry Vlahd, I-I didn't mean to- " "Y/n." Vlahd silences you. "Все в порядке. Я горжусь тем, что являюсь твоим отцом. Ты чертовски ребенок (It's okay. I'm proud to be your father figure. You're one hell of a kid.)." Vlahd states, you hug him once again.

"Thanks, dad."

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

[secondhoekage]

Ignore this long rant I’m high as shit but I... can’t take the hero commission oR HONESTLY THE HEROES THEMSELVES, seriously anymore

They’re BRAINLESS they all share one (1) brain cell and it belonged to Crust. THESE GUYS had MONTHS to strategize this attack and what did they do? They fucked it up. They want me to believe this was planned and not written on a chalk board the night before? Sent out to all heroes the next morning at 8am in a CHAIN EMAIL?

Unpopular opinion(?): they sent the worst possible, ill-suited heroes to each location for this PLF raid and I’m mad at them for it and I’m mad at Hori for making me be mad at it even tho he had to do it beCauSe oF pLot but I’m mad.

The MLA’s plans to take on The League of Villains? Spotless. Chef’s kiss. The detail. The one-on-one counters they planned out. Accounting for each enemy’s quirk. Yeah there were like 6 of them to account for but?? Heroes, yall had enough info and enough time to think of ways to go about this raid and I’m supposed to believe that you did, BUT DID YOU REALLY? MONTHS TO PLAN, and saw one electric Sir Crocodile rip-off and immediately threw Kaminari on his ass. Good move. Kinda. But the rest of the PLF? Heroes just gonna make shit up as they go I guess?? 

To make myself feel better here’s a long ass useless rant on what could’ve damn happened and which heroes should’ve gone where and to make this an epic ass rumble. ugh. Even just doing some of these things would’ve made this arc (imo) feel more... convincing and delicious

under the cut tho bc damn this is too long

In this essay I will—

Edgeshot??? EDGESHOT??    EDGESHOT?? i’M GOING TO GO OFF. 

I swear to shit Edgeshot could’ve soloed the hospital but they had him at the PLF mansion for Some Reason like... like they didn’t make him run up on the League’s bar instead of the Nomu factory bc they knew he would take care of shit immediately. Make it make sense. If he was at the hospital eye just—Nomu in the way?? Doctor running off? Say less. Electric slide all the way in there Shinya. DID NO ONE SEE HOW EASILY HE HANDLED KUROGIRI? Did everyone just forget this man can pull a K.O in .3 seconds flat? Heroes didn’t think it might be a good idea to have him there, ready to give Shigaraki the paper cut of his life the second he woke up (if he even did bc my mans likely could’ve prevented the ‘doctor getting away>high-end awaken>rush to get shiggy out of the tank>shiggy wakes up’ chain of events)? Didn’t think to send him instead of this guy X Less just sitting there with That Look on his face? 

I get they needed heroes like Edgeshot at the mansion to take out a handful of enemies in one go but COME ON NOW. There were more than enough long-range AOE heroes there. And even if you don’t wanna believe he could solo then STILL, EDGESHOT DUOING WITH MIRUKO, ANYBODY? If anyone was gonna keep up with her happy ass zooming into the lab it could’ve been him. We were robbed of an Edgeshot/Miruko teamup and I’m not okay. Could’ve had a sexy ass panel of the hospital-team hyping up Miruko and Edgeshot as they dashed to Ujiko’s lab, two fast as shit bad bitches, zooming through these Nomu, absolutely obliterating them at lightning speed, watching each other’s backs too, PROBABLY SAVING MIRUKO FROM BECOMING THE PRE-DEATH ORGAN DONOR THAT SHE IS NOW. I know it was hot watching Miruko take on these high-ends but I’d have rather Edgeshot share the spotlight if it meant Miruko was in one piece rn. Hori played her

Anyways the literal dumb bitch energy that went into not sending Edgeshot to the hospital is sending me. Could’ve at least let him just be on the team and on standby while Shigaraki was waking up. With those sharp as shit reflexes of his we’ve seen? Shigaraki would’ve been out like a fucking light the second Edgeshot saw him sit up. X-Less you had a nice thicc upper lip that lip was too shaded for you to die, but F in the chat bitch. Useless plot fodder I’m sorry X-Less. There isn’t a hero there right now (besides Aizawa but like... idk, plot is nerfing him) that could’ve incapacitated Shiggy so quickly and prevented the mess they’re in now like my guy Edgeshot could’ve. Feels like a cop out

In conclusion: Edgeshot sweety I’m sorry they did this. I’m sorry you were nerfed. I’m sorry they didn’t let you deliver Kamino Pizza to this hospital. I’m sorry they ignored you and now everyone’s gonna die bc they didn’t they respect your Ninpo rights

CEMENTOSS??? y’all sent him to fuck up the mansion FOR WHAT??? If I were the hero commission and thought :

“Dang we need to completely ass blast this huge PLF resort to make room for our heroes to run in... but it would also be good if we had someone to do that at the hospital too just in case things get tricky and we need to pave a quick way to Ujiko’s secret hideout... but I’m single-celled and can’t weigh my options logically so ok. Cementoss, to the mansion.”

...................... Ok but can I in interest you in PIXIE BOB? I get the mansion is huge but going by the shit we’ve seen her do?? I’m not about to underestimate ol’ girl. I know she could’ve fucked that place up if they let her, switched her out for Cementoss, who could’ve made THE EASIEST route for the hospital team to get into the secret lab, trapped Ujiko, also trapped a couple nomu/high-ends in cement while he was at it, rearranged some tunnels for optimal tactical movement, probably could’ve done a decent-fucking-job at slowing the onslaught of Decay too if it got to that point (AND IT MIGHT NOT HAVE BC THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS RANT IS TO INSIST THAT A BETTER SELECTION OF HEROES WOULDN’T HAVE RESULTED IN SHIGGY’S CURRENT THANOS SNAP ORdEAL)

I know Pixie’s mostly on rescue operations and that’s what she’s doing at the hospital/surrounding city but WHY?? EVEN IF THEY REALLY NEEDED CEMENTOSS AT THE MANSION—WHY NOT HAVE PIXIE BOB DOING SOMETHING IN THE ACTUAL HOSPITAL BATTLE? JUST A LITTLE? The hospital is built on uh.. oh yeah... EARTH? And considering in the Forest Training arc she was using her quirk from a remote location (to make that Earth golem, or whatever) she wouldn’t even HAVE to be IN Ujiko’s lab to be useful

Can y’all PLEASE put at least ONE of your terraforming heroes at the place where y’all REALLY need them?? And not after-the-fact like y’all just did with Pixie Bob? Because clearly she didn’t do shit this last chapter trying to stop Decay. I’m sorry girl. You may be dead. Terrible.

I would have legitimately sent Snipe to get Ujiko before I sent Miruko and that’s that on that. Where is he even? He was there during the briefing but he’s gone? MIA? Idk. No way Ujiko is getting away from those bullets. Target locked: Ujiko’s hand. Fire. High-end Nomu remote goes bye bye. Then another bullet in the leg. No need to worry about him escaping and waking up high-ends/Shiggy when he doesn’t have kneecaps. Problem solved. No way it would’ve taken that long to break Shiggy’s tank either with a few well-placed pew pews zigging around some Nomu (not that we really wanna break him outta his tank bc look what happened). Snipe’s 6/5 technique stat deserves better!!!!!

Gang Orca did not go off and give a bunch of kids brain damage during the License arc to be so thoroughly ignored here. He’s clearly about to get his shit rocked by some gauged-out ex-Hot Topic employee in the next few chapters and ugh you’re TOO GOOD FOR THAT ORCA. COULD’VE BEEN OF USE AT THE HOSPITAL. PARALYZING SONIC WAVES? WE’LL TAKE IT. Who knows if any of the high-end Nomu would’ve been affected by paralysis but the small fry? Probably. Shiggy’s little twink ass? I would bet on it. Not that it would really stop him from using Decay but still

At the risk of sounding like someone I know who endorses child labor (the hero commission) here me out: CAN I GET A UHHH JUZO HONENUKI??? AGAIN YEAH good that he was at the mansion to do some long-range AOE action but if y’all are gonna force kids to join in on this war anyways, put your strongest and most useful ones at the place you need them. Shit it would’ve been real nice if Honenuki was there to trap some Nomu—uncertain if it would work against the high-ends that show some pretty flexible quirks but who knows—and even at the risk of reaching, maybe in some universe where Shiggy and Honenuki face off, it would be interesting to see Decay against Softening, since Decay’s one big weakness is that it can only work on solid objects sooOooOo? Idk. Would’ve been a cool match up but I hate that the kids are fighting anyways so we’re gonna ignore this Juzo rant. Just know it would’ve been cool

And as for the mess that’s going to be this fucking mansion soon... .. We’re just gonna ignore a whole ass Geten, big destructive power, big fucking threat, and not gonna throw Endeavor’s ass in there? Makes sense. They’re leaving it to Shoto I guess. They said time for you to fucking shine kid. Get in there. I mean really trading Endeavor for Edgeshot would’ve been top tier strategy but...

I MEAN THEY?? Made up a whole ass plan to counter ONE greasy-looking PLF guy by throwing Kaminari in there, but they couldn’t make up a plan to counter Geten? Are they just?? Pulling names out of a hat to see who gets to fight who? Did they spin a bottle to see who it landed on? Did Mt. Lady pull the short stick? I swear on shit when Geten starts going feral soon I’m not gonna feel sorry about it. Unless heroes got a plan and someone’s gonna make a sexy ass top 10 anime entrances to counter his ice then I’m disappointed. We went ape shit over Kaminari countering one of the commanders but are we not gonna get anymore ‘I’m your perfect counter and I’m here to stop you’ moments? No? I’M PISSED. 

I would have also settled for my kween Nejire being there to blast away some ice because who tf else is gonna do it? But eh. 

Dabi will also be trouble depending on what he decides to do. He only has about 3 good ideas a month and he’s used them all up by now so he’s in dumb slut territory as we speak. But you’d think that a villain as widely recognized as Dabi with such a destructive quirk would urge the heroes to have some plan to take him on but?? So far I don’t really see anyone quick to take on the role. Not that it’d be that hard bc he’s dangerous but also dangerously dumb. Where is Inasa. Maybe he can just blast the flames back in Dabi’s face. I love him but at this point he deserves to have some of his rights taken away

Don’t even get me start on Gigantomachia. I get the heroes had little choice except to attack before Shiggy was full-power but just?? NOT having a plan in case by some little chance Gigantomachia DID wake up? You stupid bastards. You absolute fools. I guess there’s not much you CAN do but FUCK y’all just gonna let him SIT THERE? No counter measures? No ‘Let’s execute this incredibly thorough and thought-out plan we’ve spent months formulating to restrain Gigantomachia in case he does end up waking up, because better safe than sorry’? When he tramples like 50 students I bet that shit gonna hurt

I hate it all. I was really happy about seeing Shiggy go off 272 bc he’s a king but after rereading from like, 258 I feel... weird. Maybe this will be resolved with more chapters but. eh. Now that I’ve thought of this, I can’t go back. I miss the brain power that was behind the MLA fight

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch32: The Impossible Choice. Part 1: So Was I

Summary: Tony catches up with Steve, Katie and Bucky in Siberia and as the events unfold he learns the truth about how his parents were killed.

Warnings: Bad language, angst!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 31

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The jet wasn’t fully fuelled so they couldn’t fly at full speed, meaning it took them a few hours to reach the wide, flat, snow-covered landscape of Siberia. Once they touched down, Steve cut the power and Katie stood up and moved to the back of the jet, opening the closet that held the Avenger’s weapons. Bucky stepped over and started examining the rack of guns labelled ‘Romanoff’ before he selected a light machine gun.

Katie reached over to grab two 9mms and twirled them in her hands before she slotted them into the holders on her thighs. Bucky watched her through the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow as she reached over to select another larger rifle.

“Sure you can handle that thing, Sweetheart?” He asked, his tone was gently teasing and Katie snorted, whilst behind her Steve gave a chuckle.

“Stop flirting with my wife, Buck, and I’ll have you know she’s a trained sniper, give you a run for your money.” He spoke, almost proudly, as he slung his shield onto his back.

“That so?” Bucky’s mouth twisting into a grin. Katie simply smiled in response and cocked the larger gun, looking down the sight to check it was all clear.

The three of them stood together, Katie in the middle of the two super soldiers, waiting for the exit ramp to descend as Steve tossed his helmet in his hand. 

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked suddenly, looking over at Bucky as the cold air hit them. 

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?”  Bucky frowned

“You blew three bucks trying to win a stuffed bear for a redhead” Steve smirked.

“Right, what was her name again?” Bucky asked, a tone of amusement on his voice

“Dolores.” Steve answered instantly, smirk still on his face “You called her Dot.” 

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.” Bucky said.

“So are we pal” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The ramp was now almost completely down. Steve placed his helmet on, fastened the strap under his chin and the three of them descended.

“Well it aint quite a freezer truck.” Katie mused. 

“I hate the cold.” Bucky sighed as they trudged through the snow.

“Yeah Stevie isn’t exactly a fan either. Although he still runs the Air Con at like minus twenty.”

“No, I don’t.” Steve sighed, and Bucky gave a bark of a laugh as the two of them began to playfully bicker.

“Our bedroom is freezing.”

“Look, I run at a higher temperature than you.” “Yeah yeah.” Katie rolled her eyes, gun still raised as she looked around.

“Our place was always cold in the winter.” Bucky mused, and then he laughed again “Hey Katie, once when we were kids, we built a fire using all this spare and wood we found in the outhouse.” “Yeah, your dad gave us a whack each round the back of the head as he’d been saving it to build a table.” Steve grinned again. “My ears were ringing for days.”

Katie smiled as the two men shared a laugh, it was nice to see them caught up in memories. But their reminiscing was short lived as they had reached the entrance to the bunker. Bucky turned round, just to make sure no one was behind them as Katie looked at the large, steel door set into the rock. It was open.

Bucky and Katie both raised their guns towards the gap.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours” Steve shook his head as they stopped just outside, 

“Long enough to wake them up.” Bucky sighed. 

Steve looked at him, before his attention went back to the door and he stepped forward, into the cast iron bunker. Katie followed him in, Bucky taking up the rear and a couple of meters in front of them was a caged elevator. The three of them climbed in, Steve pressing the button hanging from the top and they descended into the depths of the bunker in silence until it reached its destination with a soft thud. 

Steve nodded to Bucky and then heaved up the cage door, Bucky readying his gun as they walked slowly down a corridor, keeping close to the wall. This time Bucky went first, Katie second, Steve following. Katie kept her gun raised, eyes sharp as she looked round into an alcove full of junk, the place seemed to be nothing but a dumping ground. They continued to move down the corridor before a loud thud rang around, causing them to spin around. Bucky aimed his gun back down the corridor, as did Katie, whilst Steve pulled his shield in front of him.

“You ready?” Steve asked, looking at Katie, then over at his friend as he took a slight step forward so he was almost shielding them both taking a step down the flight of stairs in front of them.

Katie nodded as Bucky replied “Yeah.”  

The double doors at the bottom began to open, but it wasn’t another super soldier that greeted the trio. It was Tony in his full Iron Man suit.

Katie stared in surprise as her brother retracted his helmet. 

“You seem a little defensive.” Tony quipped as Steve strode down the steps towards him, shield covering his body. Katie followed a yard or so behind, her gun now by her side. 

“Well, it’s been a long day.”  Steve replied, shield still raised, not quite sure what Stark was doing there. Bucky shifted slightly and Tony turned his head to look at him.

“At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?” Katie asked. 

“Could be your story aint so crazy.” Tony shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. 

“Sorry, is that you admitting you’re wrong?” She raised her eyebrow slightly at her brother.

“Maybe.”

“Ross?” Steve looked at him.

“Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself” 

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork” Steve quipped as he lowered his shield “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too Cap.” his brother-in-law smiled softly before he looked over at Bucky who still had the gun raised “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop…”

Steve motioned at Bucky to lower the gun and he did. 

“So how did you find us?” Katie asked.

“I went to the prison. Spoke to Sam.”

“How are they?” Steve asked.

Tony hesitated “Angry, mostly at me. Clint especially but, they’re, ok.” 

Katie looked at him, she had the feeling he was holding something back but now wasn’t the time.

“What made you change your mind?” Bucky asked Tony. He may have lowered his gun but because his Captain had asked him to, but he was still unsure. 

“I got an update from the Berlin police.” Tony turned to face the man. “The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as you were captured. They dispatched a Dr Broussard from Geneva but he was intercepted by the man who questioned you.”

“You got a name?” Katie asked her brother. 

“Yeah, Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Intelligence. He ran Echo Skorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad”

“Sokovia.” Katie sighed as Steve groaned. “Is that place set to follow us around for the rest of our days?” 

“You think that’s what he wants with these Super Soldiers?” Steve asked. “Some form of army to get revenge?”

Tony made a face, shrugging. “Your guess is as good as mine Cap, but I reckon so, yeah.”

Tony re-engaged his helmet and the four of them set off to continue the search. Katie felt bolstered by her brother’s appearance, and Steve also felt hopeful that they could sort this out then go home, together, and work through the whole unholy mess that had been left in the wake of the Accords.

They moved cautiously and silently through the bunker until Tony, who was at the front, turned right into a smaller corridor at the end of which was a vast chamber.  

“I got heat signatures.” He said gently.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Uh…one.”

“One?” Katie frowned. She looked at Steve and then the two of them turned to Bucky who shrugged, equally as puzzled.

As they all walked up the three small steps into the chamber, Katie could just about make out several huge pillars when the lights in each of them snapped on. It was then that the all saw they weren’t pillars, they were capsules. Each containing an enhanced soldier surrounded by some form of hazy, yellow mist. 

The four of them looked around, bewildered when the PA system crackled into life, causing Katie to jump.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep”. The voice spoke as Bucky looked up at the solider in the capsule nearest to him whilst Katie continued to the next, her gun still raised. It was then that she noticed there was a bullet hole in the glass and a shot buried right between the female soldiers eyes. 

He’d killed them. 

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” 

There was another pause as Katie turned to look at Steve and Tony who were walking slowly through the middle of the chamber to her right, towards the machine that was used to wipe the soldiers’ minds. Bucky and Katie exchanged a puzzled glance. None of this added up. Why had he killed them? What had he come all this way for if he didn’t want to activate them? 

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here” the voice said, and then a window lit up to their right. Zemo was in there. Steve hurled his shield at the window but it simply bounced off the glass and returned to him where he was stood by Katie’s side. 

“Please, Captain.” Zumo spoke with amusement. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets” 

“I’m betting I could beat that.” Tony shot,  as he and Steve rounded the chair to the right, Bucky and Katie to the left.  

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve stepped forward so there was just the glass separating his face from Zemo’s as he glared at him. 

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized, there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

Steve drew back slightly, frowning as Katie reached his side.

“You’re Sokovian.” She stated, watching the man, his brown eyes flickering to hers. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell.” Zemo shook his head. “No. I’m here because I made a promise.” 

Steve studied Zemo as he asked “You lost someone?”

Zemo bowed his head and clicked his tongue. “I lost everyone. And so will you.”

Steve watched as Zemo pressed something and then a screen just behind them, to the right clicked on. He shot another look at Zemo before he made my way over to it, Katie following.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again, but one which crumples from within?” Zemo spoke and Katie glanced back at him, Steve doing the same “That’s dead forever.”

Katie looked at the screen, the still image that was portrayed was somewhere very familiar. Her eyes flicked to the date on the freeze frame. December 16 1991. And in that split second she understood.

One which crumbles from within…

This was about splitting the Avengers up, pitting them against one another.

“I know that road.” Tony jerked her out of her thoughts from where he stood to her right, “What is this?” he spoke louder, aimed at Zemo who didn’t answer.

Tony glanced back at the screen and Katie felt herself grow cold as the footage began to play. The Stark siblings watched as their parent’s car entered the frame and crashed into a tree.  And then the Winter Soldier rode up and got of his motorbike. 

“Shit.” Katie mumbled, as besides her Steve shifted a little and she glanced at Tony, who’s unease was increasing, his brow furrowing as he watched the driver of the car, their dad, laying on the ground. Tony inhaled deeply as the footage progressed and the Winter Soldier walked over to their dad who had struggled out of the car and hoisted him up by his hair and stared down at him.

Tony wasn’t watching the screen anymore. He was stood, eyes fixed on Bucky who had his head bowed. The soldier took a deep breath and glanced at Tony, his eyes locking with the man’s. Tony looked away and back to the screen as the tears began to freely fall from Katie’s eyes. On the footage the Winter Soldier reined blow upon blow upon her father before dragging him by his collar and shoving him back into the driver’s seat. She felt Tony take her hand, his Iron Man Gauntlet tightening painfully around her fingers as The Winter Soldier rounded the car and reached in through the window.

At that point she couldn’t take it anymore and she turned away, supressing the sob that was rising in her throat and pressed her face into Steve’s chest were he stood beside her side on, watching Tony carefully. He gently placed a hand at the back of his wife’s head before he glanced back at the screen to see the Winter Solder aiming a gun at the surveillance camera, shooting it. 

There was a moment’s pause and Katie moved and looked over to where Bucky was stood a few paces behind them, his head bowed, shoulders slumped in disgrace. He looked up, his own tears clouding his eyes and then Tony lunged, and Bucky’s face contorted into panic, his rifle flying up as Steve hastily moving to stop Tony grabbing his arm.

“Tony, Tony.” he conciliated.

Tony looked down at the screen again, before he looked up at Steve, the tears glistening in his eyes as Katie wiped away her own with the back of her hands.

“Did you know?” Tony asked his voice barely audible.

“I didn’t know it was him.”  Steve began, his voice pleading as he looked at Tony. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony cut him off before Steve could continue, his voice full of fury. “Did you know?” 

There was a pause, before Steve sighed and dropped his head slightly. “Yes”.

Tony pushed Steve away before he glanced back at the screen. 

“Tony.”  Katie pleaded as he turned to look at her. “He didn’t know for sure, not until we-”

“You knew as well?” Tony asked, his voice cracking as he looked at his sister and her face crumpled.

“I knew they’d been murdered, but not by him. Not until yesterday, I swear.”

At that Tony’s chest tightened with betrayal and heartbreak and he stepped back, his chin jutting upwards twitchily before he re-engaged the Iron man helmet. He pushed Katie out of the way and as she tumbled left, he punched Steve hard, sending him to the floor. Bucky started to fire, bullets easily deflecting off Tony’s Iron Man suit and Tony shot a beam at Bucky, disarming him and then flew across the chamber, slamming him into the floor. “Tony, please!” Katie shouted, as Tony jumped on Bucky’s chest. Steve stood up, threw his shield which hit Tony, distracting him momentarily before he tackled him from the front, barging him backwards. Then Steve was on the floor, then Bucky was there, it was getting really out of hand and Katie was powerless to stop any of it.

“You need to go.” Steve instructed as he cut the restraints that Tony had fired at him off his legs.

“I can’t! He’s my brother, Steve!”

“That wasn’t a request.” Steve repeated firmly “Go, get Zumo. If we don’t apprehend him, then all this is for nothing.”

She hesitated for a second. 

“Katie!” He yelled, as he jumped up, shield raised, his voice full of authority. “Just do as I fucking tell you!”

With a shuddering breath, she looked at him.

“Steve, please…”

“GO, NOW!”

With a final, shuddering breath, she turned and ran. Back the way they had come, the sounds of blasts and yells and metal on metal growing fainter and fainter as she sprinted down the corridors, the tears in her eyes hindering her view and sense of direction.

Every so often snippets of the footage flashed across her mind. Her mom and dad, pleading for their lives before Bucky, no, the Winter Soldier coldly executed them. This entire situation was a mess, and she had no idea how any of them were going to come back from this.

Whether they could ever come back from this. 

Eventually she made it outside. The snow had been falling, almost completely eradicating any sign of the three sets of footprints that were hers, Steve and Bucky’s, leading into the bunker, but there was one set leading away. 

She took out one of her pistols, having lost her rifle in the chamber somewhere, and began to follow them, eventually coming to a thicket of trees. As she approached she could hear the sounds of voices, it sounded like one of them was talking via a phone. 

“You should’ve seen his little face. Just try, okay? I’m going to bed. I love you.” 

It was a woman’s voice and then Katie spotted Zumo, he was sat by a rock, looking at the phone in his hand. As she approached someone else emerged from the corner of her eyesight and she spun, raising her gun. It was T’Challa, Black Panther suit fully engaged.  He gestured at her, palms up, before he retracted his helmet and spoke to Zumo.

“I almost killed the wrong man.” 

“Hardly an innocent one.” Zumo shot back, no sign of surprise in his voice at them two of them being there.

“This is all you wanted.” Katie shook her head sadly, the cold snowy wind whipped her hair about her face and it stung her cheeks which were wet with tears. He looked up at her, eyeing the gun which she still had trained on him. “To see us rip each other apart?”

“My father lived outside the city.” Zemo began to explain “I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, “Don’t worry. They are fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.” When the dust cleared and the screaming stopped. It took me two days until I found their bodies. My father, still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers?” He looked up at Katie and she saw the hatred in his eyes as he glared back. “You went home”

“None of us wanted any of it.” Katie shook her head, eyes welling up again “There isn’t a day goes by where I don’t wish things could have turned out differently. We tried, but we couldn’t save everybody.”

“I knew I couldn’t kill you.” Zumo ignored her. “More powerful men than me have tried. But, if I could get you to kill each other…”

Kill each other. 

Katie swallowed, her thoughts returning to Steve and Tony back in the bunker. 

“I’m sorry about your father. He seemed a good man. With a dutiful son” Zumo looked up at T’Challa.

“Vengeance has consumed you. It’s consuming them.” T’Challa blinked ruefully and retracted the claws in his gloves. “I am done letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough”

Zumo smiled thinly, and for the first time Katie saw that he had a gun in his hand. “Tell that to the dead” 

As he raised the gun to shoot himself, T’Challa grabbed the shaft of it, absorbing the bullet and shot in his hand before he rolled round behind Zumo, getting him into a headlock.

“The living are not done with you yet.”

All three of them fell silent and Katie slumped onto a rock, her head in her hands. Whatever happened now, it didn’t matter. Zumo had gotten what he wanted. The Avengers were split, right down the middle, Tony and Steve were pitted against each other. Her brother and Husband. 

And she had no idea what she was going to do.

*******

The fight went too far. Tony blasted Bucky’s metal arm off of his body which sent Steve off into a frenzy but he lost his shield in the fracas that had ensued. And now, he stood in between Tony and that final blast that the billionaire knew would end his parents’ killer once and for all. And Tony was going through him if he had to.

“He’s my friend.” Steve pleaded breathing heavily and he looked at Tony hoping to get through to him. Surely he understood it wasn’t Bucky that had done it, it was HYRDA, it was always fucking HYDRA!

“So was I.” Tony answered flatly before punching Steve in the face once, twice then throwing him into the opposite wall. Steve coughed, spitting out blood, then began to unsteadily work his way back up to his feet. “Stay down,” Tony warned aiming his repulsor beam at him “Final warning.”

Steve lifted both his hands in a fighting stance shrugging slightly as he said, “I can do this all day.”

I can do this all day… those words roused Bucky and, for a moment he was in an alley, bailing the little blonde punk out of a fight. Well, why break the habit of a lifetime? He grabbed Tony’s ankle with his remaining hand, distracting him and Tony turned kicking him in the face rendering him unconscious again. Seizing his chance, Steve leapt up and grabbed Tony from behind and, with a monumental heave he lifted him over his head, Tony tried to fly away but with his failing jets it was no use and he landed hard when Steve threw him down onto the concrete.

And then Steve was on top of him throwing punch after punch, grabbing his previously discarded shield bringing that down onto the mask until it broke and fell apart revealing Tony’s frighten gaze to Steve.

Steve raised his shield one more time and Tony brought his hands up to cover his face but that wasn’t Steve’s intention, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever hurt him like that. Instead, he brought it down hard onto the arc reactor. Tony lowered his arms and stared up at Steve with a mixture of surprise, betrayal and resentment and the soldier looked back at him, his own face contorted with remorse as he rolled off to the side of the now useless suit.

Both men took a moment to catch their breath as fatigue and exhaustion begin to set in, Steve was the first to move as he pulled the shield from the chest of the suit and hooked it back onto his arm. He glanced back at Tony one last before time, wishing it could be different before making his way over to his best friend and pulling the barely conscious man to his feet.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony spat turning over on his side. “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!” he shouted angrily.

Steve paused. Howard had made that shield, yes. And he had betrayed the man’s memory by keeping the true nature of his death a secret. Taking a deep breath, he realised Tony was right, he didn’t deserve it after all. Captain America was a righteous man, fighting the good fight, a moral man…and Steve Rogers had been selfish and arrogant thinking he could act as he had without consequence. With an immense air of sadness he shrugged the shield from his arm and let it clang to the floor. Then he proceeded to carry Bucky up the exit and out into the snow.

The sound his shield made as it hit the concrete was a noise that Steve knew would be forever ingrained in his mind.

The sound of him leaving Captain America in a bunker in Siberia.

**** Chapter 32 Part 2

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BTHB: Working Through the Cold

I’m not entirely happy with this, but some advice from everyone here has me thinking I will post it anyway! Let me know what you think! (and thanks to @slaintetowhump​, @moose-teeth​, @wildfaewhump​, @robins-whump​, Anons, @that-one-thespian​, and others who were so nice about me being a schmoop yesterday)

TIMELINE: About a year before things get better for Killan

@badthingshappenbingo​ request: Working Through the Cold by Anon

CW: Extremely dehumanized whumpee, noncon touching (nonsexual), wing whump, muzzling, conditioning/training a whumpee, careless/casual/distant whumper, a kind of pet whump, referenced piercings, restraints, display whump

From inside the little shop, located on a busy street close to the central square, passing people might have heard the sounds of chirping birds, chittering small rodents (a southern delicacy, you know, when fed just the right mixture of seeds, nuts, and berries), two long, lean spotted cats built for the hunt and the chase, and one very old dog whose bark was much worse than his bite.

At least, he was missing enough teeth by now to undermine the threat. 

A long-treasured travel companion, the old dog was fed rice cooked in a rich chicken stock with vegetables and chicken shredded so finely it didn’t require chewing. He’d had the dog for so long, now, and perhaps the old boy didn’t move much these days, but the merchant would rather rent a shop to help his dog keep warm over the harsh northern winters than be richer - and lonely without the old boy by his side.

The dog, of course, was not of much interest to his customers. No, they came to look at the rarities - to buy quill pens made from feathers saturated with a brilliant teal, or perhaps take home a pair of lovebirds cooing to each other, beaks just touching. An aristocrat or two with a taste for the meals in the far-off lands they’d traveled to might by the Sunning Hens for the soup pot, along with the packet of heady spices and tikla flour the merchant offered to recreate the spicy, thick stews from the south, where the people fought heat with heat. 

They could come and see, while the weather continued to cool day by day, these reminders that there were lands, far away, who did not grow cold enough to bring out the painted lights in the sky at night, there were places that did not see the Longest Night at all.

They could see these things, for an easy, small price. In the large bay window of the shop, that angles outward and then in again, the people often paused to see something else entirely. No a reminder of the south’s bright colors and warmer clime, but… something new.

The summer’s warm air had been blown away by the oncoming winter chill, and autumn was in full swing. The trees in the small park in the town square were a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows, drifting down to create pools of color against the browning grass. 

This far north, autumn felt like a luxury, a few weeks of middle-chill before the deeper freeze set in. 

The people made the most of the time, and some of those people - when out their walks, or taking their children to and fro - stopped to look at the creature in the rarity-merchant’s window. 

You couldn’t say anyone had ever seen anything like this before. In this part of the world, the fae were a whispered rumor of mountain folk more like birds than men, who swooped down to carry off lambs and calves and children alike. They were known to sour the milk and spoil the harvest using magic no human could quite master. 

Here in this bustling city, the people had never so much as seen a feather that could be proven to be of fae origin - although many large hawk and eagle feathers were sold to excited children as fae feathers, the same way they might bring home a plush centaur or unicorn to line up in their beds. 

No, nearly none of these people would ever see a fae in person, in their lifetime. But when looking at the creature strung up in the merchant’s window, they came as close as ever they would. 

The creature shivered - the window did not hold out the chilly autumn breeze, and even through the slightly scratched glass the people could see the tiny bumps that rose on its skin, the minute tremors, the way its body fought to warm it. 

It wore only a loose pair of pants - scandalous, if it had been a man. It looked a bit like one, of course, except… well. 

Except for all the ways it didn’t.

In the window, they came to stand, one or two at a time - whole families on occasion - to look at the strange half-open blue eyes with tiny slit-pupils that stared back at them above a heavy leather muzzle dotted with little brass circles where it took in air to keep breathing. Wavy brownish-blond hair was chopped roughly, curling over rounded ears and against the nape of its neck, and only drew attention to the inhumanity written in the flatness of its eyes. 

For all the roundness of its ears - and didn’t everyone know the faes’ ears were pointed and moved forward and back like a cat’s - and the gentle rather than pointed curve of its chin, you couldn’t ignore those eyes, or the blunted, pitch-dipped talons that twitched on its right hand. 

A thick chain ran from the buckle at the back of its muzzle, keeping its head pulled slightly back, exposing a wickedly curved scar that ran down its throat from pulse point to collarbone. Affixed to the window at even level with it was a small piece of paper that read TWO VOICES, TWO WORLDS: 10 Marks to Hear a Song! 

Iron cuffs around its wrists were chained to the wall, keeping its arms outstretched, giving an easy view of the other large scar down its left side, traveling down over its ribcage, fading out only just above the hips. Another sign here read FLIGHTS OF FANCY: Could this scar have to do with the power of flight? Come inside to see more!

It knelt - or sat, as the day went on and on - on a small cushion, and the people came each day to drop a coin or two in the box outside the shop and drink in their fill of the visual of the strange creature, neither man nor fae. Afforded the respect given to neither - not terrifying enough to fear like the fae, and so clearly not human.

The old dog by the fireplace was given more dignity than this.

But it wasn’t like the creature understood that, right?

Near its talons, one more sign in the window read: Razor-sharp talons slice a rabbit to shreds in seconds! These are dipped in pitch for your safety. Feel free to inquire inside for a closer look!

Mostly, they stay outside. It was worth a coin, or two, perhaps - to look at the winding, stitched-in threads that adorned its pelvis in a series of constellations that directly echoed the shape of the stars on clear winter nights all the way up to its chest, where a spiral had been sewn directly over its heart. 

Assuming, of course, it had a heart in the same place a human would. No one seemed to know, and there really was only one way to find out for sure. The merchant wasn’t ready to sell the thing off for parts, not yet.

Some of the people, curiosity and the chill air driving them inside, couldn’t resist the pull. They meandered into the little store feigning disinterest. They looked over the areas where the merchant sold the rarities he kept in cages - brightly plumed birds, the little rodents, those two great hunting cats - and pretended to be more interested in those. Maybe they even bought a bird or two.

In the end, though, they gave the merchant more money for a chance at the creature’s wings.

They were huge, to the eyes of humans who had never seen fae - spread to their full wingspan by chains hooked into the joints that ran straight up to the ceiling. The creature’s display took up an entire side of the room, really, the side farthest from the warmth of the fireplace.

The southern-bred birds and rodents needed the heat, after all. The creature in the window seemed largely dulled to the cold.

This close, a paying customer could see the creature’s ankles were chained down, too, to keep it from trying to stand or move away. The occasional man or woman might flick at one of the thin but solid chains hooked to its wings and listen to the creature’s answering whimper as it forced the joints, even for just a second, to stretch farther.

While the creature kept its eyes on the people outside, it was the ones within the store who touched it. Their curious, questing hands ran over its spine, pushing and prodding at the scar tissue there, murmuring with scandalized whispers about the way the ropey, knotted skin seemed unnaturally thick. 

There were more stitched threads, new constellations humans had never thought of and never named, that twined and twirled around its hips at the back and skimmed up the center of its spine. Galaxies were marked, and no one in this city knew what those galaxies might be called, but the fae knew.

And the creature - the boy, who had been named Killan once, and who now was only monster or creature or stop that, it’s not so bad - had been taught each and every name to scream into the spinning void as the magic was sewn in. Not that he told the merchant that.

Even now, abandoned and sold and then bought and sold and bought and sold again, there had to be some things he could hold inside, secret and safe from even the deepest violations. They had taken nearly everything, but they did not - they could not, they didn’t know to - take this.

Everyone thought the galaxies on his back were some fanciful nothingness sewn there. Only the boy - and the fae who had made him, and the other fae who had turned away from the horror of his appearance and had been the first to call him monster - knew the names of the stars on his back.

But the hands never stopped on the galaxies, and when they moved to his shoulder blades, the creature drifted uneasily back into the haze, colored with nothing, that let him exist as an it, day after day after day.

If there was still a spark, it was so hidden that none of the customers could ever, ever find it to take it away from him.

No. That he was still him was his own private secret. To the gaze and the hands and the curiosity and the endless need to know to see to feel to own of the people who came, there was no boy.

Only the creature.

It continued to shiver as the cold air drifted through the imperfect seals on the glass window and ghosted over its front. Even in the haze, the thing would tremble more and more through the day. Stomach hollow and empty, it held as still as it could under the overhot, clammy hands of the paying customers behind it, but still there was a slowly growing coating of grime and dirt and grit from their fingernails scratching at a thread to see if it would pull up, or rubbing at the base of its wings in a violation so complete it pulled an unwilling keen from the creature’s throat.

Every other day or so, the creature at least knew there would be a bucket of water over its head in the stables, a harsh brush meant for cleaning the dust from the horses, its own skin nearly torn open and reddened from how it would clench the wood handle in its hand and desperately try to clean away the memory of their touch…

Well.

The buckets of water were something, at least. And if it could not be interesting enough to be sold, it could be interesting enough to see. 

The merchant was a clever man. He’d begun to understand that no one wanted to pay a good price for the creature, not here, but they wanted to pay a smaller price to see it. Give the people what they want, he always said, and you’ll make your fortune. 

So he gave them what they wanted.

He gave them something new, at an affordable price.

The days passed, and autumn turned to winter, and still the merchant led the quiet, unprotesting creature with dulled blue eyes from the stable where it slept with the horses to the window every day, fastening its chains, stretching its wings to an agonizing width.

At some point, to amuse himself, he began to make up little whistles to train it to respond to. A certain number of notes meant stand, a second meant lift your hands, a third spread your wings. The winters were long, and the nights stretched on and on to a nearly-constant twilit near-dark, and he began to keep the creature in his rooms at the back of his store for longer and longer each evening after its daily meal. 

The creature proved eager and willing to learn, when offered an extra helping of porridge or stew or whatever he fed it that day. 

Enrichment, the merchant thought, quite pleased with himself. Like the small wooden clickers he left in the bird cages, like the tiny wheel he’d fastened together for the smallest rodents. Something to do, to put in the creature’s mind. A way to please him.

Even the old guard dog’s tail thumped, now and then, when he brought the creature in and it stopped to give the dog a scritch behind its ears. 

Funny, how the creature seemed to have quite the way with the animals.

Still, even learning to move by whistle, to answer his unspoken commands, something was… missing, from the eyes of the monster. Listless, unsettled. The monster began to remind the merchant of silt - a swirl of useless dirt covering up the depth of a lake, or  river. Making it look shallow and unsafe to drink, and beneath the silt, in the depths… what?

Empty darkness? Or a raging torrent?

 To make up for the loss of shine and the heavy shadows under the creature’s eyes, he began to paint a bit of kohl and shimmery gold, not quite transparent, over its eyelids. 

He couldn’t completely hide the way its spirit had dulled nearly to dying, but he could disguise it.

The winter passed this way. There were always new customers, and returning visitors, and one by one the birds, the rodents, and the hunting cats sold to interested parties.

Until only a few cages of birds remained… and the creature in the window.

In the winter, the shivers started faster, but the warm hands of the paying customers inside the store were far more welcomed than they had once been. 

The creature stopped pulling away from them, or trying, and began to lean back, pressing its spine into a questing touch, tilting its head back even further to seek out the palm and fingers that had run so kindly through its hair. It would trill and chirp on command for the children who came by, and there was a slight wrinkling of the nose, a hint of a crinkle to the eyes, that made the merchant think absently, on occasion, that the creature might be smiling behind the muzzle at their delight.

From the window came a bitter cold. The merchant rarely ventured to that part of the store, and kept his own fireplace stocked high and crackling, to keep the remaining merchandise and the dog as warm as he could. 

The creature, though… well, fae did not get cold so easily as people did. Its shivering was a show it put on, he thought, to try and make him feel guilt. He was unmoved. He ignored the whines and keens of pain when he finally unhooked it at the end of each day and its wings were finally able to curl back against its back. Instead, he whistled, and watched it drop to its knees on the wooden floor instantly in the back room, eyes closed to soak up the relative warmth compared to its usual proximity to the window. 

After its daily meal, the merchant watched it curl up near the fireplace by the old guard dog, wings tightly wrapped around itself. He had grown a little fond of the thing, and so often allowed it to go without its muzzle for a couple of hours and warm itself before he led it to the stables to be chained down to sleep.

Usually, when he came in the morning to feed the horses and pick it up to lead it to the store window, he found it sleeping curled against one of his horses. And he never stopped feeling the prickling worry that the look in the liquid eyes of his long-time wagon team was not knickering interest any longer, but a simmering hate that grew each time the creature required its pitch to be replaced over the talons, or they saw the muzzle remove and replaced.

Surely that wasn’t possible.

Horses didn’t hate.

The merchant put the thought from his mind.

Through the winter, each day was the same in the little store the merchant rented. Wake the creature at the stable, allow it to stretch and bend its muscles in preparation, allow it to drink its fill of water, and then get it set for the daily display. Each day the winter stretched onward, the creature seemed less present than the day before.

Instead, the creature began to watch the twisting northern lights in the sky that stayed vibrantly visible late in the morning as the days without sun continued on. Instead, the merchant found its eyes were tilted upward, not on the customers, but up at the grayish-purple eternal twilight.

One night, the merchant paused on his way leading the creature to the stables, and caught its eyes turned upwards. He’d left the muzzle off, for a bit, and with so much of its face visible, he saw a very sentient look of awe written across its expression.

Intelligence was in that face, however dulled and deeply repressed. Humanity was in that face. 

“What are you doing, creature?” The merchant asked, to cover his own unease.

It turned to look at him, and for a moment darkness covered the inhuman eyes and concealed its tightly curved wings against its back and he was looking at a young man, nothing more. A young man in chains, and with the red marks of the muzzle pressed so deeply against the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones that starlight left them in plain sight for hours.

The creature had not spoken in so long that its voice came out hoarsely hesitant, struggling to form the words. The monster had a soft, slight accent, as though it had grown up far to the south.

“Listening,” It said. One word only, and even that was reluctant.

The muzzle in the merchant’s hand twitched, suddenly wondering if he should replace it before he let the thing say a single word more. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. “Listening to what?”

The creature, who looked like nothing more than a boy, turned its gaze back upwards. Above their heads, a brilliantly painted blue and green light snakes along the sky like a snake, the trace of some great dragon. 

The boy was silent, for a second, and then clicked deep in his secondary fae throat.

“Stars,” He said, plaintive. Soft and sad. “Wish they could hear me. I hear them. Try to sing back. Don’t think I’m heard.” Reddish tears welled at the corners of its eyes and caught the starlight, and it was that that broke the spell the merchant had been under, transfixed by the sound of its very human voice.

All at once, he remembered.

Fae magic.

The merchant’s jaw set in a shiver of repulsion, and he yanked on the chain that went to the ring around the boy’s - the creature’s - neck. It stumbled forward, and he replaced the muzzle, fastening the buckles with a touch more cruelty than necessary, until the thing whined at the pain. 

The animal sound the creature made soothed the uncertainty that had so briefly flashed inside the merchant’s mind.

It bedded down obediently enough with the horses in the stables. In the morning, it was back in the window, on display for the stragglers who might come by in the crowd.

The merchant did not ask it questions again.

---

Tagging Killan’s crew:  @astrobly​​​​​ @burtlederp​​​ , @finder-of-rings​​​ , @slaintetowhump​​​ , @quirkykayleetam​​​ , @whumpallday​​​ , @whumppsychology​​​, @doveotions​​​, @broken-horn​​​, @moose-teeth​​​, @whumpfigure​​​, @oceanthesarcasamfox​​​,  @whump-only​​​, @just-strawberry-jam​​​, @loopylunacy​​​ (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

[hatsukeii]

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫

𝐏𝐭. 𝟏- 𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

He was a Tsukishima.

The family of successful people.

Scholars, athletes, politicians, the list goes on.

In the Tsukishima family line, academics were essential. Skills were essential. Talent was essential. Foolishness was not tolerated. Weakness was not tolerated. Clumsiness was not tolerated. Everyone was expected to be at tip top shape at all times, both physically and mentally. Manners were a must. Manners make a man, or so do the elders constantly remind. Gold medals were expected to be seen after competitions. Anything below that was worthless. The Tsukishimas were raised to be in a higher class than others. They mingled with the wealthy, frowned upon the powerless and poor. Mental health was the least of the family’s worries. They had money, they had a reputation, they had a talented bloodline, what was there to worry about anyways?

His full name was Tsukishima Kei, and he was the outcast.

His mother averted her eyes from his direction as he treaded down the flight of stairs to the dining area. She’s always done this. The moment Kei was diagnosed with farsightedness, the Tsukishima family knew he was no good. An omen, they said. With those weird, clunky glasses, the family constantly made passive aggressive comments regarding his sight. You thought he would be safe from his parents? Oh no, you would be wrong. Akiteru was hugely favoured over Kei. He was handsome, tall, well built, smart, he had a bright future ahead of him. Kei? He was scrawny, had sight problems, felt inferior to everybody else. The family had deemed him no good as a child, that wasn’t going to change because of puberty.

He sat at the table quietly, munching on his toast. As usual, his mother was preparing breakfast for Akiteru. As the older sibling jogged down the stairs, he was met with a welcoming smile, along with a bowl of steaming hot ramen. “Good morning son! Come over and have some food won’t you?” Hearing his cue to leave, Kei grabbed his bag, wiped the crumbs off his mouth, and headed out the door, but not before giving his older brother a tiny wave, in which he returned with a small grin and a peace sign. Perhaps Akiteru was the one person that didn’t treat him like shit. Maybe it was because if he did, Kei would tell everyone how he lied about being the ace of Karasuno. Although his kindness was fuelled by a shallow reason as so, it felt nice being treated well once in a while, even if it wasn’t truly genuine.

“Tsukki! Tsukki! Wait up!” Yamaguchi yelled from behind him as he jogged towards the blond. “Morning Tsukki!” The two stood in silence, waiting for the next train to arrive. This routine had been going on for years. Every morning Yamaguchi would meet up with Tsukishima at the train station, then they would head off together. Yamaguchi was one more thing the Tsukishimas frowned upon. When Kei beamed about how he defended the poor boy who was being bullied, instead of praises he received criticism. Bucketloads of criticism from everyone in his family. What was supposed to be an honourable act of kindness towards the less fortunate became the butt of a joke for the family to berate endlessly. To them, Yamaguchi was the perfect example of the weak. The weak were not tolerated. Tsukishimas were raised to frown upon them. They were higher than others. They minded their own business and had a reputation to keep. The world saw them as elegant, graceful, and privileged. They didn’t see them as charitable, soft, or weak. However, Kei paid no mind to his family’s stupid, cold hearted, absolutely fucking ridiculous “ideals”. He was an outcast, would forever be an outcast, might as well live on his own terms if his family couldn’t accept him.

“So, what’d you get on the test? I only managed to score a B-, it was so hard wasn’t it?” He stared at his paper, a huge A written and circled at the top of it. “I mean I think I did-”

“Really good? It’s not an A+. You couldn’t get it perfect so try harder next time. This isn’t good enough.”

His mouth hung open as he stopped abruptly at his words. Oh of course, how could he have forgotten? The constant criticism he received was not only from his family, but from himself as well. His grades were the only valuable thing about him, but it was never good enough. He was top of the class, but never the top of the school. Never the best player on the court. Never the best friend. “Eh, not that great. I should’ve done better considering I spent all day studying for the past week. I got the same score last time too, I doubt it’ll get any better than this.” Scrunching his nose, Yamaguchi leaned in, taking a peek of Tsukishima’s test. “Tsukki, you did so good! Ah, but it’s expected from you, always so harsh on yourself! Chill out a little bit, you’ve got the best grades in our class already! You saying that just makes me sound stupid in your eyes...” Realising the impact his words had on his friend, he stuttered, thinking of something to say. “No, I promise Yamaguchi, you’re not stupid. If you were I wouldn’t have let you befriend me. Please don’t look down upon yourself like that, it’s not good.”

Slinking down the hall, Tsukishima manoeuvred around the sea of students trying to get out of the school, mumbling to himself under his breath. The constant shuffling of feet and people pushing him around were enough to make his head spin and his heart race so much so that he had to stop in the middle of the hall, grabbing his head in an attempt to stop the pulsing. “Move it bro, what the fuck?” Stop. “Dude, don’t just stand there, get out of the way blockhead!” Please, stop. Stumbling his way down the hall, his steps were uneven as his sight became hazy. Cold sweat slid down from his forehead, his chest heaving and his breaths ragged. He needed help. He needed help now, but there was no one. Everyone was too occupied trying to get out of the school. Usually Yamaguchi would be with him but he had art club and stayed behind. Panic attacks were nothing new to him. He would experience them randomly. Everything around him would become everything he feared. Death, disappointment, loss, burden. Yet there was not a single time he was able to calm himself down. He would make someone else worry about him all over again. Maybe he was a burden to people, but he didn’t care anymore. His family hated him enough for his flaws anyways, what’s a few extra people hating him gonna do anyways? He was seeing spots now, staggering down the stairs that he finally reached, when something- or rather someone, walked right into him.

“Hey, please watch where you’re- holy shit... are you okay? I’ll bring you to the nurse hold on-”

“N..no.”

“What?”

“Panic...attack...”

Your eyes widened like saucers as the situation dawned upon you.

“Oh... OH um uh I-”

Cmon stupid, think!

Grabbing his arm, you dragged him into a random classroom, almost tripping over air from him stumbling and his height. Shutting the door behind you, Tsukishima collapsed onto the cold floor, trembling as his eyes darted. You were panicking with him. Hell, you didn’t know how to deal with panic attacks. Pulling out your phone, your fingers tapped furiously as you tried to figure out how you could calm him down. “Mmmm cmon cmon something please...” The sobbing in the background did not help your panic at all. In fact, it made you even more anxious. You couldn’t just leave him here, you had to do something. Anything.

“I- uh, do you need anything? Water? A towel? Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay...stay here..”

Shuffling to his side, you waved your arms around him, trying to figure out what to do next, finally awkwardly settling one of your hands on his back. Giving him occasional pats, your read the instructions on healthline for what to do if someone was going through a panic attack. The next part was to give reassurance.

“I’ll stay here until you’re okay, so don’t worry. Are you feeling any better now?”

Feeling Tsukishima shift, you retracted your hand, putting it on your leg instead. His breathing had finally gone back to normal and he wasn’t shaking anymore. Pushing his glasses back up properly, he grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling the strap over his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be heading out now.”

“Wait!”

He stopped in his tracks, but not sparing even a glance behind him.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t have to know.”

He left without another word.

Because that’s what Tsukishimas do.

They walk away from others and hold their shit together by themselves.

Tags:

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[time-to-cause-chaos]

i still hear your voice in the traffic (we’re laughing)

Tony promised Peter he'd teach him to drive, he's not here anymore though. (or Happy and Peter talk about Tony and Nat over a steering wheel)

AO3 link  WC: 2, 466

tw: brief suicide mention, not of Peter or the Avengers though

Peter was now 16 years old.

It was about 8 months after Tony and Nat had both sacrificed themselves to bring back the lost half of the world and defeat Thanos.  That 50% of the population that had turned to dust were all back and so many people were reunited with their loved ones, which would have been great.

Except it was overlooked that so many people hadn’t had that luxury.

There was one of Peter’s neighbors, he was in college the last time he’d seen him.  Anyways, his moms lived together and Peter  always saw him around visiting them and bringing them dinner and flowers.  Apparently they had both been blipped which left him an orphan in college.  They never got to see him graduate and he had killed himself not even 2 weeks after the ceremony.

The suicide rates had shot up a lot during those years, so many people had quite literally vanished and it was impossible to stay hopeful when there was absolutely nothing they could hold on to and a lot of people saw suicide as the only solution.

But when those dusted people came back, the people they seeked out in the crowds were gone, already long lost.

May told him when the parents had been brought back and everything had settled, they’d gone around looking for anyone who’d know where their son was, May was the one who had to tell them before they drove themselves crazy looking.  May had to tell them that the kid who’d always bring home the pasta he knew they liked and the chocolate bars he knew were their favorites, was gone, and that was just one story.

Honestly from what Peter had heard, during those 5 years, it had been like watching an empire collapse all around you and you being stuck in the middle with no way to help, just constricted to seeing everything around fall into rubble on the ground and collect into towers of misery and ash.

There was a part of Peter that was overjoyed that he hadn’t been one to stick around because without MJ and Ned who were also dusted, he doesn’t know what he’d do, another huge part of Peter wished he had stuck around (not that he had had a choice), just so he could help everyone else, so he could have talked every single person who had to live through that and just fix all of their problems because that must have sucked beyond anything he could ever imagine.

And Peter knows he hasn’t lost as many people as most because others lost everything, their families, their friends.

 But he lost Tony.  

He lost another person who he thought he could protect and who he, naive as he is, thought he would have forever.

But he messed up.

And he messed up bad, because now Tony had an incredible daughter Morgan who didn’t have her dad anymore because Peter had to stand by uselessly and cry while he listened to Tony’s heart stutter to a hard stop.

Pepper didn’t have her husband, Rhodey and Happy didn’t have their best friend, and the world didn't have their Iron Man.

(And Peter didn’t have his Tony)

Happy was supposed to take him driving later and Peter has been stalling for months now.  It's not because he doesn’t wanna know how to drive because he definitely does, that would be awesome, but Tony promised him he’d teach him to drive and he’d let him take one of his fancy cars for a spin and going without him felt wrong, like when you lose a tooth and there’s a weird new gap there that's not supposed to be there.

Tony had promised he’d teach him.

He was not going to be able to wriggle his way out of this one though, his excuses just kept getting flimsier and flimsier.

“Hey Peter want me to take you driving later” “Shoot, I wish,  but I have a decathlon meet”

“Are you free later to go for a ride?” “Sorry, I have a test I need to study for”

“You still need to learn how to use the shifts, Pete” “I know, I know, but I wanted to get some extra patrolling in tonight”

Happy had actually brought the issue up in person once, “Kid, it’s fine if you don’t wanna learn but is there a reason?  You used to always talk about learning to drive.”

He had mumbled a quick excuse and sprinted out of there.

His entire class already knew how to drive and everyone was always carpooling to each other's houses but Peter could care less.  He only hung with Ned and Mj for the most part, so it never really affected him anyways.

Another thing was he felt like he was letting May down, because he knows she really wants him to get his license, but every time he tries to even think about it he feels nauseous, like he just dropped on a roller coaster.

Knock knock

The nausea was back.

Peter reluctantly shrugged on his jacket and opened the door to the apartment.

“Hey Happy,” he waved.  He was pretty sure Happy could see something was wrong, but he hasn’t said anything yet.

“Hey kiddo, you ready to go?” he asked.

Peter nodded and stepped briskly out the door.

Happy was driving them to some empty parking lot to get him started off with and the ride was pretty much silent except for when Happy asked if May was home, Peter had said no, May had taken an extra shift and  was still at work.  Then Happy asked if he was feeling alright and pressed a cool hand to his forehead to check his temperature, Peter easily brushed him off and changed the subject as he tried not to fidget.

They pulled into the lot and switched seats once they’d parked, Happy gave him another quick run through of the gears and shifts even though he’d already heard this a dozen times and had him drive through the parking spaces setting up a path for him to go through. 

“You know, if you really don’t want to do this, it’s fine Pete, right?”, Happy said from the passenger's seat.

He knows that, and he knows Happy would be fine if he told him the truth, if he told him that even the thought of driving made him go dizzy and he knows Happy would understand but it seemed like he was the only one still hooked on this.  Everyone else seemed fine at family game nights and when they’d all get together for dinner, but every time Peter felt tears well up because Nat wasn’t there to absolutely demolish them in Jenga and Tony wasn't there to outsmart his way to the top of every monopoly round, the gaps were everywhere taking up no space and yet so much at the same time.

He’d see pictures taken recently of everyone and the first thing his mind would go to was who wasn’t in that picture?  Who was missing from the picture because of stupid Thanos (or because Peter wasn’t good enough to have helped save them-)?

Peter tightened his grip on the steering wheel, “It’s fine, I can do this,”.

Happy still looked unsure but he let him go ahead, driving slowly through the spaces and twisting through the planters spaced throughout.

After a while Happy helped him drive onto the street and showed him what to do at the lights and gave him little tips about whenever he turned.  

How to turn your blinker on.

Those were the windshield wipers.

Something about the rearview mirror…

And suddenly there were the sounds of horns honking and Happy was reaching over and jerking the steering wheel, pulling them out of the center of the road where- where Peter had almost slammed into another car.

Shit

Happy, still leaned over him, steered them both to the side as Peter stayed frozen clutching the edges of the seat with white knuckles.

The cold fist around his heart was suddenly squeezing the second they were parked on the side of the road, he was sobbing before Happy could even ask what the hell just happened.

He had almost hit another car.

That person could have died and it would’ve been his fault.

There could’ve been a family in that car.

His fault, again.

Where was Tony?

Words practically tumbled out of his mouth, the elaborately built wall holding everything in just broke and his mouth was moving against his will between each separate sob.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to” Peter gasped, it felt like a vacuum had come and sucked up every ounce of oxygen, because he could not breathe.

Happy was staring at him in confusion, really worried, probably because Peter had almost hurt another person.

“Jesus, kid, it’s alright, okay?  It’s alright, see we’re both fine, nothing happened”  Happy’s brows are tense as he watches Peter crumble.

His face fell as he watched Peter cry, “There was a reason you didn’t want to come out here, wasn’t there?”

Peter’s breathing is everywhere as he gives a harsh nod, refusing to lift his eyes up to meet Happy’s.

“Tony said- he promised he’d show me how to d-drive”

Tony’s voice in his head, laughing as Peter bonked his head on the lab table in his excitement  before asking if he was alright.

“and N-Nat said once I got my license, s-she’d let me drive her to her favorite restaurant and you k-know she hates letting other people drive her” Peter choked, “She said we could get ice cream after”

Nat’s favorite restaurant was the Syrian place with the majestic Arabic letters painted inside on the walls, she loved the frozen yogurt place where it was self-serve and she could load it with as many boba bubbles and chocolate chips as she wanted.  

The first time they’d trained together, she had let him win, after the match he’d told her to not underestimate him, she’d only lost 2 more times after that.  

MJ was nervous to talk to Nat at first, and MJ was never nervous, after though, they’d talk all the time and it was immediately decided that they were probably one of the most terrifying and badass duos to ever walk the Earth.

Happy was still watching him in a frozen silence, “Tony told me h-he’d let me take his old red car for a drive, and we’d always l-laugh and talk about which car suited me b-est” a new set of tears was coming, “He kept saying he’d get me the best car there was and I always said you don’t have to because I wanted to earn it, myself” his breath hitched again and his next sentence was practically squeezed out of him, “He always said I’ve already earned it”

Tony and him laughing in the lab and dancing to the music FRIDAY had put on for them.  Pepper coming down and just watching wearily with a smile as something caught on fire and they both ran around like idiots trying to put it out.  

Somehow, he always ended up sleeping on Tony during movie night and the team had an abundance of pictures in the album with them.  

Tony claiming he burned everything he cooked, but making pasta that could rival anyone’s anyways. 

 Peter calling him after a nightmare and just talking until he eventually fell asleep.  

He and Ned had worshiped him growing up and even after meeting him a gazillion times, Ned still stared with wide eyes as he walked away, because he was Tony Stark, he was Iron Man for god’s sake.  The shock of it never got old, Peter felt the same most of the time.

“Happy-”, another hitch, “Happy, they’re both gone” Peter finally looked up at him and did a double-take when he realized there were shining tears in his eyes, and the older man was looking at him with a conflicted look, but Peter needed to finish this first.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn't help or do anything-” he takes in a shuddering breath and Happy looks mad, why was he mad?

“Peter, you’re going to listen to me when I say this” Peter nods confirmation and Happy’s voice is a lot softer, “It wasn’t your fault, none of it was, at all, I promise.  Tony did everything he did for you, kid I-” Happy coughed, trying to subtly wipe the tear that fell, “Do you know how devastated he was every time your name would pop up on the missing or he saw a picture of you?  The first months, we’d have to drag him out of his lab, kicking and screaming because he was still trying to find ways to bring you back.” Peter shut his eyes, trying not to imagine the horrific scene. 

“When he had Morgan he was so worried he’d mess up and he’d always tell us about how happy you would be if you knew you had a sister.  He didn’t want to lose Morgan because he’d already lost you, he thought with Morgan he had a second chance and I know he never ever stopped thinking about you.” Happy looked wistful, and his gaze may have been on Peter but it was obvious he wasn’t really seeing him.

Happy breathed in, closing his eyes, “And Nat, well that girl was one hard kick.  You know the first time I met her she flipped be over, I had bruises that lasted weeks” 

Peter huffs, trying a laugh, “That seems like Nat”

“She talked about you too, a lot, she was pretty fond of you,  talking about how awesome you were.  I remember in the first few years where you were gone, she’d always be down in the training room but I never once saw her actually training.  You were one of her favorite people to spar with and she worked around the clock trying to bring everyone back.  You were a part of her family, we all were.” Happy zeroes in on him again, “Tony and Nat were alike in a lot of ways, but one of the big ones was they both loved you, kid.  Those two are peas in a pod and I have never seen them look as proud as they were when they looked at you, it’s not your fault they’re gone.  They knew the risks and what it would take to bring you back”

Peter listened, numb,  as Happy’s words echoed through his head dully, bouncing, back and forth, back and forth.

They both loved you, kid.

It’s not your fault.

Happy squeezed his shoulder, blinking his irritated eyes, “Let’s go get some food, kid.  We can finish the driving lessons some other time.”

thanks for reading, i hope you liked it! (Reblogs appreciated!)

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 1

Through a misunderstanding and a poorly read application, Ichigo Kurosaki gets a chance internship at the Chaldeas Security Organization. It changes everything.

 It felt good to stand in the sunlight.

 Ichigo had spent so long in Chaldea it felt good to have the sun on his skin, warming him from the outside in.

 He had gotten so used to having the solid presence of his Shielder at his side that standing alone on the platform from the train felt more like standing naked in the streets of his hometown. Not a pleasant feeling. His family wouldn’t be there to see him, and they weren’t. He wasn’t supposed to be home for a few more days at least. How could it be that everything that happened to him, all of the fighting and all of the bloodshed and all of the war would have happened in the span of just a few days? How could his years have been spent and yet nothing but him had changed?

 It was enough to make his head spin.  

 He needed to get home.He didn’t think he could ever really finish explaining everything that had happened to him, but he would tell his family the truth. There had been an accident at the facility, and he was home early.

 Even though it had never been an accident.

 *

 There was smoke. Smoke and the scent of blood and spilling gas lines and raw metal twisted beyond recognition.

 He barely heard Dr. Roman yelling at his back, telling him to come back. Ichigo had never shied from danger and he wasn’t going to start now. He dove into the smoke, choking him and clinging to his clothes. Pods of people were disarrayed around him, their bodies still and blood leaking out like creusom caskets. He couldn’t get their doors open, no matter that he tried, but there was one person who was not there. One person who wasn’t him, blocked from the first mission for his bad attitude towards the Director. Nevermind that the director was just a kid herself.

     “Bulkhead closing in 180 seconds. All Devision 2 personal, evacuate immidiately-”  

 Ichigo didn’t understand what that meant. He didn’t know what most of what had happened today meant, just that his little summer internship wasn’t even remotely what was on the flyer. But he didn’t pause as he scrambled over and massive chunk of rock, stuck through with wires that cut his hands like an oversized porcupine.

 A flash of white out of the corner of his eyes gives her away.

 There, lying under the debris, her small body crushed an broken and leaking blood, was Mash.

 It was Mash but all he could see was Yuzu, her wide eyes huge and terrified and filled with tears. Not a girl he’d met an hour before, after passing out on the floor. Not the best meeting.

 The ground was slick with blood and water, turning Ichigo’s white shirt a pale pink where it splashed on it when he dropped to his knees next to her. She was trapped, and the rock was too big for him to even be able to budge it.

 That didn’t stop Ichigo from trying.

 The overhead voice was still talking, and Mash was muttering at him, her voice too weak to make much sound. She was dying. Dying, her tiny body crushed until she coughed and more than just blood came out.

 Ichigo howled with rage and denial and shoved harder, harder. It was hot and smouldering and his hands blistered and blackened with burns. The light above them changed from blue to red and it burned into his retina until he couldn’t see anything else. Just red. Red blood, red light, and his body gave out. Too much smoke, he couldn't breath, he couldn’t see. He was helpless. He couldn’t do a single thing and its burned more than fire.

 Mash’s small hand found his. Her grip was weak, but she was alive. She was still alive and he couldn't just let her die-

 He grabbed her hand with both of his. Holding tight.

 The overhead was still talking, her voice robotically calm and detached. Small paws from the ferret, or whatever it was that had brought him to Mash landed on top of their joined hands.

 “Sen-pai,” her voice was a whisper, and wet with blood. The smell was making him sick. “Please… r-run.”

 “No way,” he denied firmly, gripping her hands tighter. “Not without you.”

 “Senpai…”

 Someone else is yelling at him. A ripple in the air. White hair and panicked eyes. The director, the one Ichigo had pissed off. He reaches for her without thinking, and his hand grasps hers.

 And then he didn’t see red. He saw blue, light that poured across his skin and came from beneath it, rushing like water across the burning room. A circle in the sky, a hollow moon of blue and Mash’s hand in his.

 * *

 He knocks on the door, feeling more stranger than family. His key is long gone, he’d dropped it somewhere in Rome, he thinks, but its hard to keep track of trivial things like that when emperors are trying to gut you like a fish.

 It’s Yuzu that answers and he can’t help it.

 The second she’d within his sights he drags her into the fiercest hug he can manage. He’s gotten taller, he realizes. It’s not a surprise. He spent three years in less than a week, and even if he hadn’t…

 “Ichigo?” Yuzu doesn’t fight him, and he’s grateful for it. She must be confused, because as much as Ichigo loves his sisters he’s not the most physically affectionate person in the world.

 “Hey,” Ichigo doesn’t let go for a long time. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

 “Huh? But you’re home early…”

 Ichigo doesn’t say anything. He’s loath to let her go, but eventually he has to. Karin is at soccer practice, of course she is.

 Ichigo feels his dad coming at him from a mile away, trying to sneak up on him from the clinic next door. He’d seen Isshin through the window, a glance in the corner of his eye and the flying kick thrown at him isn’t stopped with violence for the first time in ten (thirteen) years.

 Ichigo catching him around his middle, holding him off the ground, and Isshin has little choice but to hand there, his arms around Ichigo’s head.

 “Son?” there’s a question or two or a thousand, but Ichigo doesn’t know how to answer all of them. He doesn’t put Isshin down until they’re in the living room and even then he sits right next to him. Knee to knee. Yuzu brings in a can of tea for him.

 “There was an accident,” he tells them. “Chaldea, there was an explosion. So everyones been sent home.” Everyone who survived. Everyone who made it through the initial explosion and wars that followed.

 “Huh? I thought it was supposed to be a security organization, and there was an explosion?” Isshin scowled.

 It was sabotage. It was death. It was the world turning red and the future being stripped away from human hands.

 “It’s fine,” he says, even though it wasn’t even remotely. There were a million things wrong with what has happened. “I’m not hurt.” Which is true enough. He can see his dad sizing him up, trying to read between the lines. He had to look older. He’s taller, his cheeks are sharper and he’s lost baby fat. He’s always been fit, but now he's stronger, built for endurance and running for weeks on end. Tempered by wars and helplessness and a desperate bid to save the world.

 “I’m fine,” he said again, and Isshin let it go. Ichigo didn’t exactly know how to feel about that.

 He spends the rest of the day flitting from family member to family member. School starts again in four days and he heavily considers skipping it to hang around his      dad    of all people.

 He can’t help thinking about Mash. She didn’t have anything like this.

 * * *

 They move from one fire to another.

 Ichigo knows if he stays among all this smoke he’s going to end up with permanent damage. Because you know. Fuck him. He has no idea what happening, just that he thinks he’s teleported and apparently magic is as real as ghosts are. And he’s not dead, Fou sits on his shoulder.

 He doesn’t know where Mash went but he doesn’t have time to worry about it. Some kind of skeleton gang, at least five of them are approaching. Skeletons, living, breath - well, moving in any case, skeletons. Half of them have swords. One has a spear.

 Ichigo thinks he’s broken his hand when he throws the first punch, but the skeleton crumble into a strange yellow powder that tastes like what Ichigo assumes a graveyard would. Death an d decay and strangely damp.

 He can’t stop with one but by the time he’s kicked the absolute shit out of the last of them the sky lights up with another shade of red. Like a handful stars falling from the sky, and he realizes belatedly that there’s no way for him to block whatever the fuck is flying at him.

 So he tries to run, but there’s a flash of purple and pink and Mash is in front of him. Only she’s taller now, older, and she’s holding a shield bigger than her body is. She’s not alone. White hair, snake-yellow eyes. Olga Marie, the director that had been pissed at a ‘commoner’ like Ichigo was with her too. Only, she wasn’t really there.

 It had been years since Ichigo hadn’t been able to tell the dead from the living, but this time it takes him a few minutes to realize that Mash is very much alive, if not apparently a magical girl, and Olga Marie is anything but alive.

 They don’t have time to worry about it, because they’re under seige and Ichigo is apparently a      wizard    .

 He should seriously be more surprised.

 But he’s not. It explains a few things. Like how he can see ghosts on the regular, and why his punching skeletons actually works.

 They pick up another stray on their way, a wizard named Cu Chulainn. He and Mash swear themselves to Ichigo as his ‘servents’, familiars who he supplies with energy and they fight on his behalf. It almost reminds him of Chad, except here he’s entirely outclassed.

 The helplessness tastes bitter and vile.

 A third servent appears, a woman this time who likes to turn people to stone.

 “You’ll all join my garden,” she tells them, hanging off a petrified man. Ichigo can vaguely remember reading something about a person like this. The eyes, he thinks. It’s her eyes.

 He meets them squarely and bonks her harmlessly on the head. He’d have more luck punching the statues than her.

 “Hey,” his voice is gruff. “Stop being a lunatic. We’re all getting out of here. So either come with us or let us go.”

 “You- what?” Everyone is staring at him. Bewildered, but Ichigo had never done what he was supposed to. He does what he wants, and even though she’s threatened them somehow he can feel her. Like the rush of scales across his skin, cool and potentially threatening but if she really wanted to kill them-

 Well, they’d just been hanging out by the river. If nothing else should have taken his head off with her curved spear.

 “Am I gonna have to repeat myself? Damn, I said we’ve got bigger things to do than fight you, lady. So just come with us, or let us go!”

 “Master!” Mash takes a startled step towards him. “Please step away from her! She could kill you!”

 “Why would she do that?” Ichigo demanded, turning towards them, “We haven’t even done anything!” It’s not like he’s against fighting. He fights all the time. But they need to get out of here. He needs to get back to his family, to his own damn      time    .

 Besides that, he can see her power. He isn’t sure how, but he can see her strength and that of the two other Servants. Not see, maybe, but he can feel it. Like he can feel ghosts even with his eyes closed. Either way, she’s not strong enough to beat both of the others at once, even if Mash is a novice.

 “This is a war…”

 “Look,” he spun to face her, staring fearlessly into her eyes. “Just say yes or no already!”

 She blinks. Once, twice, thrice.

 “Yes?”

 So with three servants in toe, he sets out to fight the ones who holds the holy grail. All of this destruction, a city of fire devoid of the living and ghosts both... Only servants and masters remained, all because of a cup.

 All for the sake of a wish.

 Was it really worth it?  

 * * * *

 Ichigo’s bed is equal points familiar and foreign.

 He ends up going to sleep on the floor, the bed too soft and too warm and he feels like he’s going to suffocate.

 All he can think of are late nights spent in Chaldea with Mash, with Roman, and Di Vinci, and countless others. He misses the solid presence of Mash and her near encyclopedic knowledge of history. Everywhere , everywhen they went. He misses the sharp bite of Mordreds tongue betrayed by her sea-dark eyes. He missed the quiet, hulking form of Asterios, always well within reach. He missed the sharp bite of his guard dogs tongue and the quiet prayers of the saints at sunset. Even Kiyohime, her claws digging into his arm, afraid she’ll be abandoned again-

 He’s up before dawn.

 Ichigo puts together enough breakfast for twenty people. Rolled omelette and rice and foreign things. Shakshuka and fried green tomatoes.

 His family stares when they come down for breakfast.

 Ichigo stands, in his dads ‘kiss the cook’ apron, with a bowl of matcha stirring swiftly in his hands.

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Karin asks, looking him up and down, trying to find something. Isshin’s stare is particularly disconcerting. Like a scientist trying to understand something new, he’s never seen his father look that way, especially not at his own son.

 Ichigo has to turn away from their staring.

 “The time is different there,” is the understatement of the century. “I wanted to make breakfast.”

 “There’s enough here for an army!” Yuzu cries, gesturing to the spread out in front of them.

 Or enough for two Berserkers.

 “We can have leftovers for lunch?” is about the only explanation he has. How does he explain that he used to cooking with EMIYA enough for an actual army?

 “Yeah… I guess so,” Karin is still staring.

 Isshin pitches himself at the portrait of their mother, sobbing grossly.

 “Masaki! Our son is growing up so fast!”  

 * * * * *

 Lev Lainur has an ugly smile. Everything about him is slimy and distrustful and Ichigo has seen enough ghosts to know, just by looking at him, that he is      not    human.

 So when Olga Marie tries to go running to him, Ichigo wraps a firm arm around her middle and holds her back.

 “Let go!” she shrieked, clawing towards the slimy man, “It’s Lev! Lev will fix everything he’ll-”

 “He’ll kill you.”

 Olga Marie freezes in his arms, looking towards Medusa. Rider. Her eyes are narrowed and her hair writhes with snakes, hissing a spitting venom.

 “Kill her?” Lev laughs, a sound like metal grating and children screaming. There’s nothing pleasant about it. “I already have! I planted that bomb directly under her feet, I have no idea how she’s even here!”

 Ichigo knows.

 It’s because of him. Because of his interference in the explosion. The other hand he’d grabbed, it must have been Marie’s. And they’re all here together.

 “W-wait, no. I’m not dead! I can’t be!” But the fight goes out of her. She lets Ichigo hold her, and when Lev beacons gravity shifts and the world tries to pull Olga Marie from his arms. He tightens his hold and barks at Medusa. Chain snake out, lashing them together and to the ground and holding them there, even as Lev pulls until it feels like his skin will come off. Ichigo can feel it again, the drain on his energy. Mana, magic energy, pulled when the servants fought. He has no idea how much he has but it must be just enough for Lev to scoff.

 He shows them the red earth again. The world, the future. Humanity, all gone. Destroyed in an instant, and they the only survivors. All of the past, all of the future.

 There is nothing left of it, save him, Mash, and the ghost in his arms.

 Something inside him writhes and snarls, thirsting for vengeance and at the same time is keens a wailing cry of anguish.

 It’s his mother all over again. Laying on the riverbank, bleeding out and Ichigo helpless in her arms.

 It’s Mash in the command room, crushed under burning stone and Ichigo only able to hold her hand.

 No, no, no, no!

 He won’t allow it. He will not let himself be so      useless    .

 There’s a flare of energy and Medusa gasps. Mash and Cu straighten up like dogs that heard a whistle and their fight turn on a dime. The archer falls, and his king a second later until all five of them stand before Lev. United.

 * * * * * *

 School starts.

 The world turns on.

 Everything is the same, and nothing is at all.

 * * * * * * * *