#i am however almost done with the next chapter :3

[webbyghost]

Your Doug Davis fic with Mina? *Chef kiss* One of the best fics I've ever read in my life <3 I love it.

Oh my god???? Thank you, this is so sweet ;_;

[norristrii]

STAND BY YOU.

Engaged on a Las Vegas pavement, you and Lando now look forward to the next chapter—your wedding awaits.

pairing. fiancé! Lando Norris x bsf! fiancée! fem! reader.

warnings. none, just fluff. This is part2 of Stand By Me ! Glad you liked it <3 For better understanding, I recommend to read it first.

THE WEEKS BLURRED TOGETHER in a whirlwind of planning, laughter, and Carlos’s dramatic antics. True to his word, Carlos had insisted—demanded, really—that he would officiate your wedding. The delay for the certificate became a running joke, his overly enthusiastic updates on the process making it impossible to take anything too seriously.

Still, amidst all the chaos, being engaged to Lando felt strangely… natural. The teasing, the inside jokes, the easy camaraderie—all of it had shifted subtly into something deeper, more meaningful. You couldn’t help but think about how absurdly obvious it seemed now, how perfectly it all fit together. Why hadn’t you done this earlier? The thought lingered in your mind, bringing a smile to your face every time it crossed your thoughts.

The room buzzed with excitement as Rebecca, Lily, and Alex worked tirelessly to perfect every detail of your dress. You stood in front of the mirror, the reflection staring back at you almost surreal. The gown flowed effortlessly, hugging you in all the right places and radiating an elegance you hadn’t quite imagined for yourself. Your bridesmaids hovered around you, adjusting tiny details, smoothing fabric, and offering reassurances that you looked stunning.

“Who will walk you down the aisle?” Lily asked casually, her voice breaking through your thoughts. The question hit you like a thunderbolt. Your eyes widened, panic bubbling to the surface as realization struck. Oh fuck. Of course, there was something you’d forgotten—there had to be.

Your gaze darted around the room as your mind raced. The answer you sought came in the form of Lewis. He seemed oblivious to the whirlwind of activity around him, his presence grounding in a way only Lewis could manage. In many ways, he had always been like an older brother to you—constant, supportive, and unshakable in his quiet strength.

You quickly texted him, your fingers flying over the screen as you summoned him to the room. Moments later, the door swung open, and there he was, his expression curious as he stepped inside. “What do you need, Y/n?” he asked, his tone casual but tinged with concern.

“I need you to walk me down the aisle,” you said, the words tumbling out in your moment of desperation. His eyes widened in horror, the surprise evident in his reaction.

“What? Me? I don’t know, Y/n—” he hesitated, his voice trailing off as he processed the request.

“C’mon, Lewis, you are perfect for that,” you assured him, your voice carrying all the conviction he needed.

He raised an eyebrow, his teasing nature kicking in despite the seriousness of the moment. “Do I look like your father? Am I that old?” he joked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but amused. “Lewisss,” you said, drawing out his name in a way that left no room for argument.

He paused for a moment, then nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll do it,” he said simply, his voice steady and warm.

The avenue was alive with chaos, a far cry from the calm serenity one might expect at a wedding. Flower petals littered the ground, already prematurely scattered by Kimi and Isack, who stood off to the side with expressions that ranged between regret and mischief. “Can you remind me why we agreed to do this?” Kimi muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with quiet exasperation.

Carlos, however, was having none of it. His booming voice cut through the disarray, rising above the hum of last-minute preparations and hushed conversations. “C’mon, boys! You’re not at a funeral, you’re at a wedding!” he shouted, his arms flailing for emphasis. His enthusiasm, as always, was impossible to ignore, and it served as an attempt—albeit futile—to inject some order into the madness.

By the arch, Lando shifted uncomfortably, his nerves all too evident as he tried not to let the chaos get to him. Carlos stood next to him, a grin playing on his face despite the commotion. “Relax, mate,” Carlos teased, nudging Lando lightly. But Lando barely reacted, his focus elsewhere—on you, on the moment to come, and on the reality of what was about to unfold. Chaos or not, this was happening, and he couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling under the surface.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Lando muttered to Carlos, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and nervous excitement. His hands fidgeted slightly, as if his body hadn’t quite caught up with the enormity of the moment. The chaos surrounding them—Kimi and Isack’s antics with flower petals, Carlos shouting directions, and the hum of last-minute preparations—almost felt distant, the weight of the occasion taking center stage.

“And I can’t believe you actually got the certificate,” Lando added with a laugh, the tension breaking just enough to let a grin tug at his lips. Carlos smirked in return, pride evident in his expression. “I’m a man of my word,” Carlos said dramatically, adjusting his position by the arch with a flourish that bordered on theatrical.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he cast a glance towards the avenue where you were still out of view. This was it—the moment he never imagined he’d experience, but now couldn’t fathom it happening any other way. This was happening, and the thought alone made his heart race.

The soft hum of conversation in the avenue was replaced by the first notes of the music, filling the air with an elegant melody that signaled the beginning of something extraordinary. The bridesmaids walked out one by one, their dresses flowing gracefully as they moved in sync, their smiles radiant and genuine. The crowd stirred, heads turning to watch Rebecca, Lily, and Alex take their places.

Carlos, now standing taller by the arch, adjusted his jacket as he stole a glance at Lando, whose nerves seemed to return with a vengeance. Lando’s eyes darted toward the aisle, the anticipation in his expression palpable. The music swelled, each note carrying the promise of what was to come, and the avenue seemed to hold its breath as the moment unfolded.

The soft hum of the music filled the venue as you entered, Lewis walking confidently by your side. All eyes turned towards you, the room buzzing with quiet awe as you made your way down the aisle. You couldn’t help but grin, the joy radiating from you as you took in the sight of your friends standing together, groomsmen perfectly aligned—Charles, Oscar, and Max—all dressed immaculately, each wearing a mix of pride and amusement on their faces.

But your gaze lingered longest on Lando. The way he looked at you—eyes full of love, amazement, and just the tiniest glimmer of nerves—made your heart soar. For a moment, it felt like time slowed, as if the chaos of the world outside had melted away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect bubble.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Max whispered, breaking the spell as his voice carried to Charles and Oscar beside him. Oscar gave him a sideways glance, half amused, while Charles raised an eyebrow in mock judgment.

“It’s not even your own wedding,” Charles muttered, his dry humor earning a quiet chuckle from Oscar.

Max wiped at an imaginary tear, a playful grin breaking across his face. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be emotional,” he quipped, his dramatic flair adding yet another layer of charm to the moment.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, their banter grounding the surreal beauty of the day. But when your eyes flicked back to Lando, the world around you seemed to fall quiet again. This was your moment.

As you reached Lando under the arch, the music softened, replaced by the warm sound of Carlos clearing his throat. Standing tall, his charisma on full display, Carlos began his speech with a tone that was equal parts heartfelt and lighthearted. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, his smile broad as his gaze swept across the crowd, “we’re gathered here today to celebrate a very unique love story.”

His words resonated, and the crowd quieted, eager to soak in the moment. “What started years ago as a friendship,” Carlos continued, “is now turning into marriage.”

Lando’s hands found yours, his touch grounding you as Carlos spoke. You could feel the slight tremble in Lando’s grip, betraying his nervous excitement, even as his grin remained unwavering. Carlos threw a playful glance Lando’s way, his tone shifting into something cheekier. “I still remember how Lando simped over Y/n into my DMs,” he said, his laughter spilling out in a way that drew chuckles from the crowd. Lando’s blush deepened as his eyes momentarily dropped to the floor, his embarrassment evident but undeniably endearing.

Carlos grinned at the memory, glancing back at you both. “And how we planned the proposal,” he added, his expression growing warmer as he recalled the effort and camaraderie that went into orchestrating the big moment.

“And, to be honest,” Carlos said, turning to meet your gaze directly, “I didn’t think she would say yes.” His words carried a teasing note, but his sincerity was unmistakable. “But here we are now.”

The crowd erupted in laughter and applause, the warmth and joy of the speech permeating the venue. You caught Lando’s eyes, his blush still lingering, but his expression was full of love, gratitude, and a quiet thrill that made your heart flutter. Carlos’ words captured the essence of your journey—unconventional, chaotic, and perfectly yours.

Carlos cleared his throat, adopting a playful yet sincere tone as he began, “So, Lando, do you promise to always stand by Y/n? Even when she’s yelling at you for something that, let’s be honest, you probably deserved?”

The crowd chuckled softly, the humor in his words breaking the tension of the moment. Lando smiled, his eyes never leaving yours as he answered confidently, “I do.” His voice was steady, carrying every ounce of love and commitment he felt in that moment.

“And Y/n,” Carlos continued, his tone teasing yet undeniably warm, “do you promise you’ll always stand by Lando—through wins, through losses—and do you promise to always love him, even though he’s going to complain about, well, almost everything?”

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, the lightheartedness of Carlos’s words easing the tension of the moment. You turned to Lando, who was already grinning, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment at Carlos’s playful jab. His eyes locked onto yours, full of love and anticipation.

“I do,” you replied, your voice steady and filled with certainty, carrying the weight of everything this promise meant. The simplicity of those two words held all the chaotic adventures, heartfelt moments, and laughter you’d shared—and all the beautiful unknowns still waiting ahead.

Carlos beamed, spreading his arms wide as he declared with flair, “Well then, with that, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” The cheers and applause erupted around you, the joy and celebration wrapping you both in a perfect, unforgettable moment.

Lando didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat. The moment Carlos’s words faded into the cheers of the crowd, he closed the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face as his lips found yours with an intensity that made the world around you disappear. The kiss was full of emotion—love, relief, and the overwhelming joy of finally reaching this moment.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, but it all felt distant, like background noise to the electricity sparking between you and Lando. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin wide and uncontainable. “You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, though the love in his eyes was anything but playful.

“No way, Oscar is crying!” Max exclaimed, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads. You and Lando glanced back, curiosity piqued as you looked over at Oscar. Sure enough, there he was, subtly wiping at his eyes, clearly trying—and failing—to be discreet about it.

Oscar noticed the attention and immediately straightened, his expression shifting into something resembling nonchalance. “I’m not crying,” he muttered, though the slightly red hue in his eyes betrayed him. “There’s just… something in the air.”

“In my wildest dreams, I never imagined Lando would be the first of us to get married,” Charles said, shaking his head with a playful shrug. His words drew a few laughs from the group, but his expression held a touch of genuine disbelief.

“Especially to Y/n,” he added, glancing over at you and Lando with a grin that bordered on teasing. “I mean, she’s everything—smart, beautiful— and he’s... well, he’s Lando.”

“Shut up, Charles,” Lando retorted, rolling his eyes as a smirk tugged at his lips. His tone was playful, though it was clear he wasn’t going to let Charles get away with his teasing without firing back.

The group erupted in laughter, Max clapping Charles on the shoulder as if to commend him for stirring the pot. “Come on, he’s just jealous,” Max added with a grin.

“I’m not jealous!!” Charles exclaimed, rolling his eyes so dramatically it was almost theatrical. The emphasis in his voice only made his claim less convincing, and you couldn’t help but suppress a laugh as you exchanged a knowing glance with Lando.

“Yeah, definitely not,” Lando muttered under his breath, a cheeky smirk lighting up his face. Max burst into laughter, clapping Charles on the back. “Sure, mate,” Max said, his tone dripping with amusement. “We totally believe you.”

Charles crossed his arms, trying to hold his ground, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. The playful banter continued, fueling the lighthearted, chaotic energy of the day—a perfect reflection of your close-knit group of friends.

You just smiled at them, their playful banter fading into the background as you stood next to Lando. The moment felt surreal, like something out of a dream you’d never dared to believe could come true. From childhood best friends, sharing secrets and laughter, to that impulsive, imperfectly perfect engagement on the pavement—just the two of you and the overwhelming love you couldn’t contain. And now, here you were, standing together in front of everyone who mattered, taking the next step into forever.

Lando must have sensed your thoughts, because when you glanced at him, his soft smile told you everything without saying a word. The way he looked at you—the same way he always had, but now with the added weight of this day, this moment—made your heart swell. What started as a friendship built on late-night chats and shared dreams had grown into something deeper, stronger, and absolutely unshakable. This was your story, and it was only just beginning.

© norristrii 2025

@haniette , @ughyoustink , @quinquinquincy

[tiamathh]

METAMORPHOSIS - CHANGES IN YOUR LIFE

Note: Hello! Thank you for waiting! I hope everyone's doing well, stay hydrated loves 🤭 <33 Check out my Masterlist for more! <3 LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE V APPRECIATED!!

1 -> 3

Do not plagiarise, reword, steal, repost or replicate my work!

Masterlist | Paid Readings | Tip 🍯

Pile 1

The next phase in your life is going to include you moving away from home. This can either include you moving out of your actual house and living independently or you distancing yourself from the familiarity of what feels like home and trying to step out of your comfort zone. You are supposed to be going on a journey or a trip and this is actually going to be life changing for you. If you have a trip marked on your calendar let me tell you something, you're going to be feeling very in touch with your emotions, if you've built walls around you or are someone who frequents the phrase "why am I supposed to care?" etc to protect yourself from caring too much because you think it's cringe or it makes you uncomfortable, times are changing finally. You're going to be owning the way you feel, you're going to be more open about how you feel and give yourself space to be more vulnerable around the people you love and cherish, not feeling like you have to keep up the "tough" image and truly letting yourself live laugh love.

You are entering a time where your relationships are going to be flourishing, some of you have been through a rough few months when it comes to the people around you, you may be feeling used, betrayed, cheated or even sidelined by them. However new people are coming into your life, they're not only going to be on the same level as you but they'll also be people who will be a little contrasting personality wise like they'll fill the gaps for example if you're not good at communicating but they are and if they're not good at being vulnerable but you are, there's going to be a very healthy exchange of energies and it will help you maintain a sense of self without being overly dependent on them or developing a codependent relationship. Also I have to mention you're finally going to be getting a break, you'll get time to rest and relax and just take a seat because a lot of work you may have done in the past, and this I'm getting could be referring to the past few years related to academics or career, is going to be bearing fruit, making life feel more easy breezy for you lot!

Pile 2

Really good messages coming in for you pile 2! To begin with you may have been feeling a little stagnant lately, not in a bad way, just in a "stuck in a monotonous routine" kind of way, where there's nothing wrong but it just feels full and unexciting. That's changing for you, you're going to be entering a time of your life where things will still be peaceful and calm just slightly more fast paced so that you have to work harder to keep up. Anyone that you haven't moved on from in the past, or even anything maybe people maybe situations, you're going to be shedding off that old skin and almost starting over, there will be a new chapter which will be making you feel more enthusiastic about life. You're realising that you don't need to carry the weight of your past around and are going to be putting yourself out there more, you'll be healing and maybe working with balancing your energies. During this time it would be good for you to engage with energy healing or chakra work as well as soundbaths.

After a long while, you'll be more comfortable being alone, you won't be feeling lonely when you're alone but rather use that time for introspection and working on yourself. This time alone will give you a lot of insight about what you actually want when you strip away everything that society or societal norms tell you you need to achieve. Who would you want to be in life if you didn't have any obligations to anyone? Those are the kinds of questions you will be answering and it'll make you more confident in your skin as well, because you'll truly realise who you are and what you want. I keep seeing the fool so this also shows to me that there's a new chapter opening for you, one where you can make mistakes, you SHOULD make mistakes so that you can learn and grow without dire consequences looming over you. Fresh starts are great for that <33

Pile 3

Hi Pile 3! I feel like with this pile, some of you may be struggling a LOT with breaking past patterns, you may be unable to get out of bad habits because you feel comfortable in that pattern of predictability even if it's bad for you, even against your good judgement. For some of you this could be addiction, which is very difficult to deal with and I'm sorry if any of you are going through that, addiction doesn't necessarily have to be related to substance abuse (even if it could be) it can also be related to shopping or escapism and you will be finding yourself being free of it soon. World has been feeling too fast for you as opposed to the other piles, so for you things are finally slowing down, you're nowhere near the completion of a cycle, in fact you may have started one the end of this August/start of September, so you still have a few months for the cycle to end, it'll probably end somewhere next year around February or March (probably March end though). You need to realise that this is the phase of your life you should focus on, going slow is a good thing! It means you can check yourself and your surroundings, that you can be more present in moments in your daily life, that you can cherish the people and situations around you.

This is a time in your life where you'll be celebrating your wins a lot more, you'll be building your wealth and earning, also a lot of savings! You'll be saving money, bringing down your spending and truly deciding what you need to buy and what you will use if you buy it, so a lot more thought will go into where you're putting your money.

Lastly, if you feel like you've been wronged recently, don't worry, divine justice is in the works, you were "betrayed" or "misled" by someone so that you could be removed for a situation where you had no growth potential, doesn't mean it was right though, neither was the gaslighting that came after (ultra specific) and the person or people who did this will get theirs in due time and you may be present to witness it front row!

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[faithisyours]

Skinny Dipping

Chapter 2 of The List

Vi x Fem!reader

Summary: you surprise Vi with a trip to go do something off her list, skinny dipping. + a little extra at the end.

cw: Heavy petting but no actual smut, nudity, mentions to smut, mentions of food, a little emo Vi at the end, overall tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

an: Howdy! Hope everyone’s 2025 is off to a good start. As promised, here is chapter 2. This fic can be read as a stand alone, but it would probably make more sense if you read chapter 1. Also I’d like to mention that the time frame is off in this whole fic but I’m gonna try and speed run through the seasons to match up to what it is where I am. Next week we’re building a blanket fort. And if you have any ideas, let me know. Men and minors dni.

Ch 3

It had been almost a week since you pitched the idea of the list to Vi. She had been taking it very seriously, adding at least one thing every day. She had also been quite protective of it, keeping it close whenever you wanted to see it, moving it away from your gaze, blatantly closing it when you walked in the same room as her. You reminded her that it had been your idea to begin with, and that in order to do all of the things she was writing down, you would eventually have to see it. She simply claimed she wanted to be done writing it before she shared it with you. Fair enough.

Her not sharing it wasn’t an issue, though, considering you supplied the first thing on that list. You remembered the giddy look in her eye when you told her to add it, the way she wrote it as the first thing on the list, the kiss she gave you on the cheek as thanks for the idea. And since it was about the only one you knew for a fact was there, you were determined to surprise her sooner rather than later with it. It was also nearing late fall, and the nights were growing colder. You would have to plan fast in order to make this an actually enjoyable experience and not just turn yourselves into human popsicles.

So, you kept an eye on the weather, thought of a nearby lake that would be a good spot, and planned all the logistics down to the T. And then, you waited.

—

You were sitting at the kitchen island when you heard the sound of a key unlocking the door to your apartment, announcing Vi was finally home.

“How was work?” you asked as you stood up and walked towards her.

“Oh, ya know…same as always,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Well, I was wondering if you maybe, possibly wanted to accompany me this evening for a surprise?” You said it innocently enough, but Vi still gave you the most suspicious look in the history of suspicious looks.

“Did you get your hands on my notebook?” she asked accusingly, squinting her eyes and pulling away from your hug slightly.

“No, I did not. And this has nothing to do with that,” you lied, tilting your nose up in mock-indignation. She squinted her eyes even more at you.

“Right, okay,” she surveyed you, then dropped her suspicion. “Well, yes, I would love to join you. Where are we going?”

“I’m not telling you that, it’s a surprise!” You pushed her lightly on the shoulder, playfully annoyed.

“Okay, okay, fine. Just tell me what I need to do,” she surrendered.

“All you need to do is nothing. And then meet me in the car in ten minutes.” You gave her a kiss on the cheek, grabbed your bag and keys, and hurried your way down to the car.

You wanted to make sure nothing gave away the surprise, so you made sure any damning evidence was in the trunk, and then covered it all with a blanket. When you were satisfied, you plopped down into the driver's seat and waited for Vi, which didn’t take long considering you took a big chunk of that ten minutes finagling the trunk.

When Vi got into the passenger seat, the suspicious look was back on her face. You had your poker face on, however, and would not be giving anything away until you got to your destination.

You were half way into the drive, the sun setting slowly before you, when Vi decided to start grilling you on where you were going.

“Is it something off the list? At least tell me that!” she prodded. You figured there wasn’t any harm in telling her it was. It narrowed the options down, sure, but it would get her excited.

“Okay, yes, it is something off the list. But before you go accusing me, no, I did not go snooping. I remembered some of the things you wrote down and this is one of them. But just stop speculating, alright. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” You squeezed her hand, which was holding yours on her lap.

Your admission settled her speculation, and for the rest of the drive the two of you listened to music and chatted about your day. The conversation seemed to distract her, because when you pulled into the small, blessedly empty, dirt parking lot, indicating you had made it to your destination, her suspicion finally returned. She eyed you up, but you only gave her a smile as you got out of the car and popped the trunk.

Pulling the blanket aside, you grabbed the duffle bag with the towels in it and threw it over your shoulder. Vi finally came around to join you at the back of the car, but by that time you had already fixed the blanket back over everything and were closing the trunk. She eyed the duffle suspiciously, but when you beckoned her to follow you, she did.

You were a little surprised she hadn’t said anything yet. You had taken her to this lake a couple summers ago when everyone came out to celebrate Ekko’s birthday, but you would admit that it looked much different now that autumn was upon it.

You took Vi’s hand in yours as you walked down the short trail towards the lake. And once you rounded that corner and the shore opened up, Vi gasped, gave you a look that said, “oh my god, THIS is what we're doing?!?!” and kissed your cheek so hard you thought it might bruise.

The lake wasn’t big. You could probably swim from one side to the other in less than 5 minutes. But it got the job done. And it was empty, thank goodness. The last rays of light bounced off the water's surface, making it sparkle. And the thick forest surrounding it made for good privacy. It was all absolutely perfect.

You walked your vibrating-with-excitement girlfriend down towards the shore, plopping the duffle bag down next to a big oak that’s canopy arched over the water. And then you began to strip.

It wasn’t super cold out yet, but as you removed layers of clothing, goosebumps spread all across your skin. And you knew the water was guaranteed to be colder. Vi started stripping, too, only when she stopped ogling the fact you were taking your clothes off in front of her. You watched as she peeled her sweatshirt off, pulled her shoes and socks off faster than you’d seen anyone ever do that, took off the worn grey tee-shirt you sometimes slept in cause it smelled so much like her, and stepped out of the black cargo pants she had a million pairs of. She ogled, you ogled.

With both of you left in just your underwear, Vi closed the small space between the two of you and kissed you, hard, with tongue, bringing her warm hands up to caress your face. She pulled away just as fast, but it still left you both a little breathless. You don’t know exactly why you started giggling, but whatever it was, Vi was feeling a similar way, because she giggled right along with you.

“May I?” she asked, pulling lightly on the strap of your bra.

“Of course. May I?” you asked, pointing to her sports bra.

“Well, it's only fair,” she responded, a goofy smile tilting her lips.

She unclasped your bra, which was a hell of a lot easier than you attempting to pull her sports bra off, but you made it, now both topless. You leaned in, kissing her long and deep as you pulled the hem of her boxers down over her hips, getting her completely naked. She mirrored the act, and soon enough you were both completely naked, shivering slightly.

“Okay,” you grabbed her hand and faced the water, “on the count of three, we run in.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see her nodding, albeit reluctantly.

“One,” You took a step forward, “two,” you took another one, this time Vi taking it with you, “three!” and then you were running towards the water, Vi right next to you, laughing breathlessly.

“Holy fuck, its cold.” You were now chest deep in the water, the sandy bottom squishing between your toes. Vi was right next to you, grinning ear to ear, and even though it was fucking cold, you couldn’t help but grin right back at her. Sure, this had been your idea to begin with, but as soon as Vi had added it to her list, it had become one of her goals, one of her dreams. And you couldn’t help but feel over the moon about helping her bring it to life.

After a minute or two in the water, the cold wasn’t as noticeable, but it didn’t really matter considering Vi had started kissing you, again, and you had a hard time considering anything else when that happened. Her hands had come up to your face, pulling you deeper into it. You grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, wrapping your arms around her. One of her hands came down to your chest, cupping your breast, fingers gliding over your nipple. You moaned, the sound getting caught by Vi’s mouth. You needed to be closer, were going to die if you didn’t get closer. One of your hands skated all the way down her back and grabbed her ass, pulling her in, causing legs to tangle. It was her turn to moan, a sound you would kill people to hear again and again. Both of you were frantic to get flistfulls of the other. You were lost in it, nothing unusual, but you had to remember you were in a potentially public place. And that was not a kink you wanted to find out you had today.

So with unbelievable effort, you pulled away, the space between you being filled now with hot, panting breaths. “As much as I would love to fuck you in this lake, I’d like to remind you that we are in a semi-public space,” you said.

She sighed. “Alright. And it is pretty fucking cold, isn’t it?” You nodded in response. “And it's getting pretty dark. Better get back to the car,” she reasoned.

“Only if you want to, babe. This was your surprise, I want you to get everything you want out of it,” you countered. You didn’t want to cut her surprise short just because you were cold. If she wanted to stay longer, you would gaslight yourself into believing you couldn’t feel cold. Anything for her.

“Well, considering I’m naked in a lake, I’d consider this a success. And it is getting late, and I’m getting kinda hungry. I think it’s fair to say we can head back to the car now.”

You nodded in response, giving her an acknowledging smile. Hand-in-hand, you walked out of the water, only to be met with the chilly night air. You rushed over to the duffle bag, flung it open, and cocooned yourself in the first towel within reach. Teeth chattering, you watched Vi follow suit, albeit not as frantic.

“We should do this again,” you said between gritted teeth, “when it’s warmer, though.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you remembered to bring towels.”

“Oh, I brought a lot more than just towels,” you said, your attempt at cockiness negated by your shivering. “Just wait till you see what else is in the car.”

“Well, now I’m even more excited,” she responded. Vi had been toweling herself dry and was about to get redressed when she surveyed you, still dripping in places and shivering. “Okay, let me help you dry off, since I seem to be more immune to the chill than you.” She gave you a crooked smile, stepping closer and grabbing the edges of your towel.

“Ya, alright,” was all you managed before Vi started patting you down, moving the towel over your arms and belly, then pulling it completely off you to dry your legs. She made sure you were pretty much completely dry before grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, forfeiting your bra. She grabbed a sweatshirt next, which happened to be the one she had been wearing earlier, but she didn’t seem to mind when she pulled it down over your head.

“I can manage the rest, I think,” you said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She nodded, then started redressing herself, also forfeiting her bra and eventually pulling on your sweatshirt. Once you both were dressed and adequately warmed up, you shoved the wet towels, dirty socks, and both bras into the duffle bag. And then arm-in-arm, you walked back to the car, giggling as you went.

When the car came into sight, you popped the trunk using the key and watched it slowly rise open. You put the duffle bag down and removed the blanket, revealing a wicker basket, a medium sized cooler, and an extra pile of blankets.

“I figured alongside skinny dipping we could also have a picnic,” you said as you pulled the wicker basket and cooler forward, flipping the top on both to uncover what you had packed. In the basket there were meats, cheeses, crackers, fruit, and veggies, and in the cooler was a bottle of sparkling cider, dip for the veggies, and some ice cream sandwiches you were praying weren’t completely melted yet.

You glanced towards Vi, concerned slightly by her silence, and found her pouting, holding back tears. She scooped you up into a hug, squeezing tight. She was so incredibly thankful, but you knew that if she said it out loud she'd actually start crying, so you just nodded your head, gave her a small, knowing smile, and kissed her on the forehead.

You watched as she took a couple deep breaths and collected her thoughts, then looked around back towards the lake, her eyebrows knitting in concern. Before she could say anything though, you said, “We can eat here, if that's what you're thinking.” She nodded, giving you a knowing smile. You seemed to always be able to read her mind.

Collectively you laid out one of the blankets on the bed of the trunk, turned on the car to blast the heat and provide some toons, and unpacked the food and arranged it between the both of you. You ate, talked, and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Eventually, though, it came time to pack up, so you reloaded the car, making sure you didn’t leave anything behind, and began the drive back home. With the radio low and a blanket draped across her lap, however, Vi was helpless to the call of sleep, and began softly snoring half way back to the apartment. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, admired how peaceful she looked, and recounted everything that had just happened. You don’t think you had ever seen Vi this happy consecutively ever. This whole list business was going to take some serious effort to complete, but if it was all going to be this fun, all going to make Vi this happy, you’d do it a million times over.

Tip Jar

[miss-canon-event]

Lessons of the Heart (Ch.2) 📚💖

Chapter 2: Little do you Know

Single Dad!Miguel x Teacher!FReader

Summary: Being a father is not easy, and even less so when he is single. This is Miguel O'Hara's life, who has raised his daughter Gabriella alone after her mother's abandonment. Everything has been extremely difficult and challenging, especially now that they have to start over in a new neighborhood. Miguel barely has time for anything else besides his daughter and his job… everything changes a bit when he meets his daughter's teacher: you.

CW: different POV, mentions of bullying and xenophobia, mild angst, sad children, blaming, mentions of OF, Miguel is kinda shitty, not use of Y/N, only a last name, mentions of nudity. (Let me know if I forgot something, pls)

Divider by: @cinemabeans

A/N: Finally, after long weeks I am able to bring you the update of my crazy fanfic. A thousand thanks to all the people who commented, reposted and most of all, interacted <3 it means a lot to me that you've been so kind to me. I was scared to death and anxious, but I know I count on very nice people to bring this idea forward that little by little is taking shape hehe. Take care and see you next time!

As always, thanks a lot to @miss-tarja , who had been helping me to improve and also, she has giving me advice in order to be a better writer and oc, to keep writing this fanfic 💚

The long hallway felt longer and colder than it really was. Both girls felt as if the floor might disappear beneath their feet.

How many children get sent to the principal’s office on their first day of school? Many.

But because of a fight? Very few.

Gabriella and Emily kept their little hands intertwined, as if they were walking through a dark and cold place, and their only light was each other.

Her brown eyes stared at Emily, who walked while looking down at her feet. Then, she looked at your back — your ponytail swinging rhythmically with your steps.

You hadn't been cruel or cold. However, the girls needed to explain themselves. They probably deserved a small "punishment," just like the other 5th grade children.

Finally, they reached the huge door with a sign that read "PRINCIPAL".

Gabriella swallowed hard and squeezed Emily’s hand again — and Emily did the same.

His leg bounced the whole day. Since Miguel was called by a woman from Gabriella's school, he hadn't felt calm.

He had spilled his mug of coffee over the desk by accident. He had missed his lunch time.

It was incredible how nervous and upset he was. 

"Your daughter was in the middle of a slight bullying incident."

"We need to have a word once the classes are done."

Those were the words he could remember from that calling. Probably the principal or a secretary.

He took a deep breath and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost time and Gabriella will finish her classes for today and he must go for her. 

But now... his priority is to find out what happened. Why was Gabriella taken to the principal's office on her first day at school?

“Canija…”

Miguel mumbled and while he turned off his computer, he gathered his belongings.

The road towards the school had been eternal, but he was almost there. Miguel saw the huge building from afar and the many parents waiting for their children. He parked his car and with firm steps, Miguel walked to school.

He didn’t know why he was so worried.

He was afraid of failing as a father.

It was threatening for him thinking that perhaps he wasn’t “perfect” as people at college or in his old job claimed.

Slapping himself mentally, he decided to push all those insecure thoughts out for now and focus entirely on seeing what mess his daughter had gotten herself into.

With the help of the receptionist, who escorted him to the office, Miguel entered a large, well-lit room. At first glance, it didn’t look like a traditional office. It was more like a common room divided by cubicles. In one corner, there was a small table with several chairs around it, probably used for quick meetings or students to wait. Near the back, there was a cubicle a little larger than the rest, with a neat desk and, on the wall behind it, the school’s emblem hung proudly.

Inside that room were several adults, who appeared to be the parents or caregivers of the other children involved. However, that was the least of Miguel’s concern at the moment.

Miguel just wanted to know how Gabriella was and what had happened.

“Papito…” 

Gabriella’s soft, trembling voice reached his ears. The girl, together with another little girl with braided hair, was sitting on a bench.

Miguel walked steadily towards them, feeling the judgmental stares of the adults present.

“Gabi, what happened?”

“Papito, I swear it wasn’t my intention-”

“Gabriella, you know we don't keep secrets not lie to each other. I need you to tell me why I'm being called here." his voice was severe and soft at the same time.

“Papito, yo-”

“It’s your first day of school, Gabriella”

“I know, dad. But… they started to mess with me. They told me I was a spic… and then they started to mess with Emily too.

Miguel looked at the girl with braids. Her freckled cheeks were red, as were her eyes. He also noticed that she and Gabriella were holding hands.

Then everything started to fall into place…

But something kept bothering him. Where were the adults? The teachers? Why didn’t anyone intervene before those children insulted both girls? There were supposed to be teachers watching, responsible adults taking care that the children didn’t get into trouble.

Trying to remain calm, he turned his focus back to his daughter.

“¿Le dijiste a tus profesores?”

Gabriella nodded.

“Si, pero la directora dijo que no había sido la manera…”

Miguel sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and nodded.

He hadn’t liked that call from the school staff one bit.

“Thank you for coming here, dear parents," said the principal—a tall, slender woman with sharp gray eyes and short, straight hair. She was a very elegant woman. “As we explained by phone, your children were involved in a bullying incident, which we cannot tolerate. It was only the first day of school, and the children were already displaying inappropriate behavior."

The parents were there with their respective children.

Even you were present, perhaps to give your point of view on what had happened.

“According to our teacher, Miss Hayes, she witnessed Miss O'Hara pushing young Davis. Miss Veronica was going to respond, but she intervened.” the woman read the report she had written previously that meeting.

Miguel felt his blood boil and tightened his grip slightly on Gabriella's shoulders. But he wasn't angry at her—he was angry at that teacher.

“However," the woman continued, “according to Emily's testimony, they were sitting quietly when Daniel Davis and company came over to bother them and said very mean things. Is that correct, Emily?”

The little girl with braids nodded.

“Very well," the principal said, placing the document report on her desk.

“While we don't tolerate bullying in any form, we will also not accept offensive or xenophobic comments.”

A blonde woman sitting next to the girl Veronica interrupted.

“Excuse me, Principal. You know how children are. They're at an age where they experiment and… well, being around children who are different from us… tends to—"

“Mrs. Clark..." you said in a tone that clearly meant “Watch what you're about to say.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Clark. Xenophobic comments are not just childish behavior. And I repeat, it is something we will not tolerate.”

The blonde woman fell silent, though her eyes showed she wanted to say more.

“As you know, this can't go unpunished. According to our rules, this is grounds for temporary suspension.”

The children looked at one another, and Gabriella and Emily did the same.

“However, since it's the first day of classes, we've decided they will only receive a small punishment. It will be determined by each homeroom teacher. Daniel, Veronica, Marcus, and Tobias will be handled by Mr. Evans. Gabriella and Emily by Miss Hayes.

Miguel felt like he could breathe again and nodded. Gabriella also calmed down a bit. She was frustrated and sad.

“Please wait outside. I need to speak with Mr. O'Hara in private.”

All the adults, including you, left the office. However, you couldn’t ignore how intently those red eyes were fixed on you.

You didn’t know if it was resentment… or prejudice.

Once outside, you took both girls to a more secluded spot. They were a bit shaken and needed to get away from that environment.

You wanted to say something to Gabriella. When you saw her for the first time, you thought it would take a long time for her to open up and even start talking to her. Yet, even though she had just met Emily, she stood up for her against the bullying. 

That said a lot about her.

“Well,” you said, and both girls looked at you. “Now I’ll have to think of a punishment for both of you. Why do you two have to cause trouble on the very first day of school, hm?” 

The girls giggled a bit at your comment. You really tried to be stern, but with Gabi and Emily, it was hard. They were just too sweet…

“But, are you okay now?"

They both nodded at the same time, one more confidently than the other.

After spending a while talking to them, the three of you heard heavy footsteps. Firm, angry ones—like those of a giant.

“Papito…”

You turned and saw that tall, handsome man, but his face was clouded with anger. His eyes, burning red, seemed to glow with rage.

“That’s enough, Gabriella. We’re going home,” his voice was firm and cold, enough to send a chill down your spine.

“But, Dad—”

“Enough, Gabriella. Go to the car, now,” he said in the same authoritarian tone, leaving no room for argument.

The girl stood up, waved goodbye to Emily, and gave you one last glance before walking down the hallway.

However, Miguel didn’t follow her right away...

His fierce, burning gaze fell on you with such intensity it left you breathless.

“And you, teacher…”

Oh, no...

“What kind of school is this? Where are the adults when younger kids are being bullied by older ones? Why do you only react when someone fights back?”

His voice boomed through the room like thunder, as if the very air shrank with each word.

“Mr. O'Hara, this school has over five hundred students. We do everything we can, but sometimes it’s impossible to be everywhere at once,” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, even as you felt the lump forming in your throat.

But he didn’t seem willing to listen.

“Then maybe you should reconsider if this is your calling. The title of 'teacher' is too big for you, miss.”

His words weren’t shouted, but they hurt more than if they had been. They struck your chest like arrows, piercing a shield you hadn’t even realized you were wearing.

Why did they hurt so much, coming from someone who barely knew you?

You took a deep breath, swallowing the pain.

“I ask you, please, to choose your words carefully. You are in front of your daughter. What happened today was unfortunate, and no one is justifying Gabriella’s reaction. But we also can’t ignore what led her to that point.”

“And I'm asking you to do your job. That’s why you are being paid.” 

Miguel clenched his jaw, his eyes still burning with anger. For a moment it looked like he might say something else, but instead he gave you one last sharp look before turning and walking silently down the hallway, where Gabriella waited for him.

And when they disappeared, the air seemed to return to the room— but you were no longer the same.

“That man was really mean to you…”

Emily’s soft voice brought you back to the present. You looked down and saw her there, so small, so sincere. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with one of her braids, and her eyes watched you with concern.

You gave her a tired but genuine smile, and gently patted her head, feeling how that simple gesture soothed something inside you.

“It’s been a very long day, little one. Let’s go home, okay? You said you wanted to stop by for your colored pencils. Remember?”

At the mention of that, her face lit up with pure, contagious joy. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was like sunshine after the storm.

“Then let’s go, let’s go! Hurry!" she said excitedly, clinging tightly to your hand.

The two of you left the school together, leaving behind the stares, the noise, the words that still stung.

And as you walked toward the street, hand in hand, you thought that even if you can’t always protect your students from the world’s injustices…

…for that little girl, you would do anything to keep her safe.

Her smile—sad, but sincere—was worth everything.

The beautiful smile of your little sister.

The ride home was completely silent. Gabriella stared out the window without saying a word, and Miguel kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel, his brow still furrowed.

He was still upset. With the school stuff. With the teachers. With the other parents. Leaving Mexico was supposed to be the first step toward a better, calmer life. A life where his daughter could be safe, grow up happy, without having to worry about things like this.

And now? Everything seemed to have fallen apart on the very first day.

“I'm truly sorry for what happened today," the principal had said in a calm voice, trying to ease the tension. “This afternoon, I reviewed Gabriella's records that we requested from her previous school. Good grades, excellent behavior, talent in sports—especially soccer—and an advanced English level.”

She flipped through a few pages inside a folder labeled in bold letters: O'HARA, G.

“We don’t believe she acted with bad intentions, as some parents have suggested,” the woman continued. “But, as we explained, pushing another student is not the right way to handle a situation, no matter how unfair it may seem.”

Miguel could only nod. His eyes lingered a moment longer on his daughter’s name written on the folder, and inside he felt a mixture of guilt, helplessness, and anger.

“We just need you to talk to her. She's a good girl—it's clear to see. We believe this might have happened out of nervousness or fear from being in a new place. We want to support her… and help her feel like part of our school.”

Once again, Miguel nodded. He had no words. There was a lump in his throat that not even his anger could dissolve. He felt frustrated with everyone... the principal, the judgmental parents, the teacher who hadn’t acted in time.

Even with himself.

“I will, ma'am. And believe me, I deeply regret that this happened. It hasn’t been easy for her… none of this process has been.”

The principal nodded silently, with an expression that, for the first time, seemed genuinely understanding.

Miguel glanced at his daughter through the rearview mirror. She was still staring blankly out the window. Just like that morning—quiet and withdrawn.

“Gabi?"

The girl looked at him briefly through the mirror.

“Mi niña, I'm so sorry your first day turned out like this. I promise it was just a small stumble. Tomorrow will be a new day, and everything’s going to be fine, I promise," he said with a smile, trying to convince Gabi that everything was okay.

Trying to convince himself that everything was okay...

“You were very harsh with Miss Hayes…”

Miguel sighed, keeping his focus on the road.

“Gabriella, those kids were bothering you, and she only reacted after you defended yourself.”

“Yeah... but I wanted to defend Emily. She looked really sad, papito..."

Miguel opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He stayed silent, touched by his daughter’s tenderness. That kind of pure empathy… something he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully learned.

“Sad?”

“Yeah... and she told me she doesn’t have a mom…”

What?

Had that little girl also lost her mother?

“Is she new? An orphan, or…?

Gabi shook her head.

“No. She’s been here since kindergarten… and she only told me a little about her bigger sister.” Gabi explained.

Miguel nodded, eyes still fixed on the road.

A brief silence settled between them.

“Papito?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think... Emily will want to sit with me tomorrow too?”

Miguel looked in the rearview mirror once more. His daughter didn’t look so dim anymore. There was a tiny light in her eyes—a little spark of hope.

“I’m sure she will, sweetheart. And this time, everything’s going to be just fine…”

And as the car drove down the tree-lined street, Miguel allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

Because despite everything… his little girl was still brave. And that, he thought, was a good start.

It was a bit late that night. After helping Emily wash up and brush her teeth, she went to her bedroom.

Of course, after all that high energy from finally getting her new box of colored pencils, she fell asleep almost immediately, tightly hugging her stuffed unicorn.

You turned on her salt lamp on the nightstand, and after looking at her lovingly, you gently closed the door.

You sighed, letting the exhaustion show on your face for just a few seconds, and checked the time on your phone.

10:19 PM.

You still had a few minutes left…

You went to the bathroom and started putting on your makeup in front of the mirror. Eyeliner that defined your gaze, subtle but effective eyeshadow, and a lipstick that made your lips look more alive, more confident… even though you knew none of it really protected you.

Then, you went to your room and began to strip for the day. You took off your sweater and pants, leaving the routine behind. With a small key that you kept on your bedside table, you opened the chest at the foot of your bed. Inside, a small universe of wigs, fabrics and outfits carefully selected to give life to other versions of yourself.

You chose a deep red outfit, the color of passion and determination. You paired it with a black bob wig, elegant and mysterious, that framed your face with a new identity. On your lips, you applied a deep, vibrant red, which contrasted with the softness of your skin.

The top was a semi-transparent bra, slightly exposing your breasts and nipples. The thong embraced your waist and ass, looking great on you. You looked in the mirror you had in a room and once you were convinced, you proceeded with the following.

You put on the black wig, combed it and finally, you were ready. You looked like a completely different person.

In front of the mirror, you observed yourself carefully.

It wasn’t a costume… It was part of the ritual. Part of what allowed you to make it to the end of the month.

You made sure your door was closed and locked.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on your computer.

The seconds it took to start felt eternal.

Your fingers moved automatically, typing the website’s address. Right before logging in, you paused. Another breath. And one more. It was your way of reminding yourself that you were in control… even if it didn’t always feel that way.

The mouse arrow clicked “Start live.” The camera turned on. You saw yourself on the screen: confident, ready, radiant. However, you always made sure that your face was not visible. They only saw your lips, your nose... half of your face completely unknown to the people on the other side of the screen.

The view count started rising slowly. Names piled up in the chat. Greetings, emojis, comments.

Then you smiled, letting go of the weight of the day. As if it were a layer of dust you could shake off for a few hours.

“Welcome to everyone who's joining. Very good evening, handsome ones…”

Your voice sounded sweet, confident, as if that other you—the teacher responsible for shaping young minds, the sister loved and admired by a little girl—didn’t exist at that moment.

It was just you. The one who reinvented herself each night to avoid falling apart.

And suddenly, you weren’t thinking about how hard the day had been.

You were thinking about Emily, asleep and safe… and about how tomorrow, you’d get up again—for her.

Tag list: @miss-tarja, @ryk-mt, @monarchberrysblog, @chubbyhedgehog (if you want to be tagged, you may comment <3)

Thank you very much for reading this far😭✨️

Any comments or feedback with respect will be welcome ❤️

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | epilogue

Summary: Cry Baby went on a date? And, it was with Bucky?

Warning: Fluff. Mentions of John Walker.

Word Count: 977

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Book Two: Good Graces

A/N: And that's it, done. Thank you to every single reader of this story. Thank you all for your input, your comments, and your requests. I know you all fell in love with Cry Baby as much as I did and I couldn't be more grateful to you all. As you know, this isn't the true end of Cry Baby and I will be revisiting it (technically this is only the first draft) however, I will take a small break from these two idiots until August to work on my other stories. So, if you want to check them out too, please do! I love you sweethearts. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan

The next few weeks felt like a dream. You spent every available moment with Bucky, rediscovering each other. It felt as if you were meeting for the first time, yet, the deep connection you shared made you feel like you were home. 

On the night of your first official date, Bucky knocked on your apartment door. He stood waiting with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Your smile grew as you saw him, his usual confidence mixed with a hint of nervousness. 

“You ready?” he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. 

You held the pink motorcycle helmet he had bought you, matching his grin. “Ready.” 

The roar of Bucky’s bike and the warmth of his presence made you feel at ease as you rode to the restaurant. Your heart sank, and your smile faltered as you saw which restaurant he had brought you to. The same one as John Walker had almost a year ago. 

Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor, reaching out, he placed a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to him. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you took a deep breath, trying to mask the discomfort. “It’s just… this place brings back some memories.” 

“I know,” he spoke softly, his eyes filling with understanding. “That’s why I brought you here.” 

Confused etched its way to your face, clouding your gaze. “But why? Why would you bring me to a place with such bad memories?” 

His voice was earnest as his hand moved to cup your cheek. “I hoped we could create better ones, replace those memories with new ones, ones that we make together.” 

The apprehension you felt dissolved as your heart melted from the sincerity, and genuine hope in his eyes. “You really thought about this, didn’t you?” 

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I want to turn all the places that once held pain into places filled with joy and love.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you knew the verdict before he could ask. They were tears of happiness. “Bucky… that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

He took your hand, leading you toward the restaurant, stopping only to open the door for you. The ambiance felt different this time, the evening already felt lighter and full of possibilities. Bucky pulled out a chair for you as you both sat down.

As the night progressed, you immersed yourselves in conversation, sharing stories, and laughing as if you were strangers on a first date. “All I could think while he was talking was ‘I don’t even like steak, John!’” you exclaimed, recounting the details of that date with John to Bucky.

Bucky listened intently, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned forward, reaching his hand across the table– interlocking his fingers with yours. “Well, we both know how that ended up for him, Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his thumb gently caressing your own.

“Do you remember the first time you called me ‘sweetheart’?” you asked, fondness sparkled in your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips. 

Bucky smiled, squeezing your hand gently. “Of course I do,” a small chuckle escaped his lips as the memory of that night entered his mind. “You were only eight years old, but you were terrified of the Ferris wheel… such a cry baby,” he teased, his smile turned into a playful grin. “You clung to my arm like your life depended on it.” 

You left out a soft laugh as he continued. “You looked up at me with those scared, teary eyes, and I couldn’t stand seeing you so frightened.” 

“You took my hand,” you began finishing his story, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “And told me, you would keep me safe, no matter what. And, you did, Bucky, you always have.” 

With a gentle look in his eyes, Bucky smiled. “Hey, wanna ditch this and go to the carnival now?” 

You nodded eagerly with a laugh. “Absolutely.” 

~

The carnival was a whirlwind of lights and waves of laughter. Once again you both rode the Ferris wheel, but this time, it was different. This time, you weren’t afraid. And, instead of closing your eyes when you reached the top, you gazed into Bucky’s for a moment before closing the distance between you and placing a gentle kiss against his lips. 

As the night came to an end, Bucky rode you back to your apartment building. You both content in each other’s presence as the ride was filled with comfortable silence and the city lights blurring around you. 

Bucky walked you up to your apartment, the carnival’s excitement lingered in the air as you felt a twinge of reluctance to part ways. 

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky,” you said softly, turning to face him after you unlocked your door. 

He smiled warmly, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Anything for you,” he replied. 

Without a word, he closed the distance between you as his lips found yours for another time that night. This time, the kiss deepened, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

As you broke apart, his eyes filled with unspoken affection as they met yours. “Good night, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with emotion. 

“Good night, Bucky,” you whispered back. 

Bucky watched as you closed the door, reluctant to let go of you. As he waited a few seconds, his mind spun from the whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, and the joyous turn of events.

Then, just as he was about to turn away, you opened the door again, revealing your smiling face. You pulled him back inside, without a word, your lips meeting his in a passionate, desperate kiss. 

And as you melted into each other, he guided you further into the apartment, his foot pushing the door closed behind the both of you.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Book Two: Good Graces

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, I hope to make up for it in the following one, which is planned to include more moments between Daemon and the reader. Enjoy!!

Daemon found you standing in front of the Weirwood tree the next morning.

“Do your people not sleep?” He asked as he approached you. “Or is it something special to you?”

A soft giggle left your lips as you turned to face him, your long hair swaying with the wind. “Everyone needs sleep, Daemon Targaryen, even us,” you responded, your eyes meeting his purple ones. “Though you are right that I did not sleep last night. There were things to be done.”

“Are you going to inform your King of these things you are talking about?” Daemon asked with an arched brow, you could tell he was trying to test the waters, to see whether your loyalties laid blindly with him.

You spoke with a warning tone. “As I told you last night, I have no king, Daemon.” Only a fool would fail to sense the wind changing around you as you spoke, the words left your lips sharply. “I am no men, hence I am neithersubject to your customs nor to your monarch.”

From the way he clenched his jaw, it was obvious that Daemon was trying to keep his temper under control – from what you had seen the night before in your visions, even the slightest bit of effort he gave in the name of anger management was a tremendous step. “Even you cannot roam the Seven Kingdoms, doing what you please, without answering to the monarch, Lúthril – if you live in these lands, you have to obey its rulers.”

He spoke the words with a hard tone, putting emphasis on almost each one, all the while his huge frame towered over yours, in an attempt to assert his dominance. Of course, such a manner could have very well worked in the past; however, you were an ancient enchantress of the purest and the mightiest race the world has ever seen – no men could intimidate you. Not even the Heir of the Dragon.

As a response, you took a step towards him, looking up to meet his gaze with determination in your eyes. “I do not intend to stay long,” your voice was low but your words carried a different kind of power. “You are my last mission in this world – afterwards, I shall join my brothers and sisters in the land of eternal peace and harmony.”

Daemon looked at you for a while before speaking, his warm breath was licking against your forehead each time he exhaled. “You are a strange kind of woman.”

You did not say anything.

Upon hearing the footsteps approaching, you stepped away from Daemon as both of you turned to see the person. As soon as her emerald eyes found your graceful figure standing beside the King Consort, horror was visible on Alys Rivers’ face. “No, no, no, no!” her voice was becoming louder each time. “This cannot be true.” Quickly, the witch turned her gaze to Daemon. “What have you done?!”

In the blink of an eye, the Dark Sister’s sharp blade was against Alys Rivers’ throat, pinning her at her place. “Watch your tongue, witch.” Daemon spoke with an ice-cold tone, resembling that of a king at that very moment. “Do I have to remind you whom you are talking to?”

Gently, you placed your left hand on Daemon’s arm, causing him to lower the Dark Sister as his gaze travelled to your face which seemed to shine with an unearthly glow under the rays of the sun. “We both have known for long that this day was coming, Ingolme.” You addressed Alys Rivers as witch in the language of your people. “You should have prepared yourself better.”

Alys Rivers shook her head in disappointment, her emerald eyes traveling to Daemon. “You have no idea what you are tempering with.”

Before giving Daemon the chance to talk, you started walking towards Alys, causing her to straighten her back, standing in an alarmed way. “I do not recall having harmed you, Ingolme.” You spoke to her with a voice sweeter than honey, the air circling around you was causing the skirts of your dress to move around your feet. “I have given you no reason to fear me. You have another motive.”

As the wind got stronger, messing with both Daemon’s and Alys’ hair, it started whispering in your ear everything you needed to know – it was a gift from the Gods. The wind told you what was motivating Alys Rivers in keeping you locked away and you had to admit – she had every reason to fear you. As long as you were alive, free and by Daemon’s side; only the one-eyed-death would visit her on her path.

“Such a pity,” you muttered after the strong wind left its place to a soft breeze. “All these years of experience and yet, you still believe you are capable of changing the fracture points in one’s destiny.” You tilted your head to the side. “Has the story of how my people vanished not taught you anything at all?”

The shadows started to grow under Alys’ feet, becoming taller with each passing moment, making their way towards you. “You think you are so clever, enchantress,” Alys spat out the words as if they were venom, “but you are not one of us – you are a stranger to the games that are played here. Your magic alone cannot win the game of thrones.”

With a swift movement of your fingers, you let the celestial light radiate off your body so strongly that not only the shadows faded away but Alys and Daemon had to shield their eyes. Before the conflict between you two could get any further, Daemon interfered, his strong voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Enough!” His voice echoed around you, scaring away the birds. “I will not allow this nonsense any further. Witch, leave us alone.” His last words were directed at Alys, who sent you one last deadly glare before hurrying into the castle. Her words, however, flowed into your mind, only for you to hear.

You may have his ear for now, enchantress, but no one holds a dragon’s loyalty for long.

It was hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes – it was clear that at some point in the future, the witch of Harrenhal was going to bother you to a great extent – unless you somehow found a way to put shackles around her powers.

As soon as Alys Rivers was gone, Daemon turned to face you with fury in his purple eyes once again. “I do not need your magic to win any game – the throne will be mine through fire and blood.”

Your voice was tranquil as you spoke, the celestial light was gone now. “I never told you that I intended to win the throne for you, Daemon.” A strand of hair was falling in front of your eyes. “My sole purpose here, right now, is to advise you, guide you through your path but only if you will let me.”

The stubbornness was dripping from his words. “My fate is not something for you to shape.”

“The Gods have already woven the threads of your destiny, Daemon, but your choices will determine which path you follow. I can only help you see the way away from death and misery —if you are willing to look.”

Your words seemed to take Daemon by surprise, he was unable to hide the fear falling onto his eyes as he put away the Dark Sister. “You have seen what awaits me?” He asked with a low voice, the sudden change in his attitude was almost scary. You nodded. “Can you… show it to me? The way you showed me your past?”

A bitter smile formed on your lips as you took a step towards him, resting your left hand against his right cheek. Daemon didn’t push it back. “It is forbidden to speak of those I have seen, let alone show them to you.” You took a deep breath. “When the time comes, the Gods will show you everything you need to know.”

When he felt that you were getting ready to pull your hand back, Daemon placed his right one on your own, caressing the back of your hand. You pressed your lips against each other. “If I allow you to guide me, what guarantee do I have that you’re not leading me to ruin?” Daemon’s words were nothing but a mere whisper now – the fierce man was gone.

“There are bigger things at stake – bigger than you and me, than this hateful war of your family… Leading you to your ruin would have echoes far beyond you yourself, Daemon. It would be the first step in unleashing chaos on all of us, I cannot allow that to come pass.” With much willpower, you pulled your hand back, only to miss Daemon’s touch right away. “If it is more to your liking, you may think of me as your advisor -as all kings should have one.”

The edge of Daemon’s lips curled upwards, wind playing with his silver hair. “I believe everyone else here, in this cursed castle, shall know you as my advisor as well, Lúthril.” You both started walking towards the castle with slow steps. “If anyone should ask where you are coming from…”

You didn’t let Daemon finish his words. “I shall tell them it is none of their concern.”

A small laugh left Daemon’s lips, a sound so pleasant to the ear that it left you yearning to crawl into his arms to let his laugh embrace you. “This attitude of yours,” he said, “I find it amusing.” You sent him a warm smile, unaware of how Daemon carved that smile in his memory to recall it each time he found himself missing your company. “As my advisor, what do you suggest I should do next?”

“Your first step should be gaining the support of the riverlords by making up for the massacre William Blackwood and his men wrapped around your neck as an amulet of guilt.” You responded, not realising the way Daemon stopped abruptly as you walked through the corridors of the castle. “You need their bannerman – there is no other way to raise an army here… What is wrong?”

The absence of the footsteps following yours caused you to stop as well, looking back at Daemon, who stood a few meters behind you. He had a troubled expression on his face which was quite difficult to decipher.

“How do you know about William Blackwood and the massacre?” He asked, keeping his voice low. “You were still invisible in the dungeons when all these happened.”

The edge of your lips curled upwards. “The Gods reveal what they will, past and future alike.” You responded, causing Daemon to frown. “Nothing is hidden from their gaze—or mine.”

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[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

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Contains/TW: omg lesbians guess what?? WE MADE IT Y’ALL!! this chapter WILL BE NSFW and you should know the drill by now but STILL- MINORS DNI! you are FINALLY getting smut… glorious beautiful wlw lesbian sex 🙏 it IS millie’s first time however she is not infantilized or completely clueless about sex and i’m trying to not make her overly innocent as well. this chapter will also contain some texts in the beginning/smau type shit, brief discussions of self harm/scars, anxiety/panic attacks, and a good old fashioned menty b! also some brief 3rd person/ellie pov at the end of this?? anywaaaaays… hope you enjoy! <3

WC: 5.9k i was a yapper in this soz 😭

Part VII

false god

I was still shaking as I clicked my phone off and peered at my reflection in the mirror. Vi’s shirt was way oversized, the sleeves easily hitting my elbow and the edge easily brushing my mid thigh. Ultimately, I was still mostly covered and I think I would’ve been okay with it. If it weren’t for the fact that she hadn’t seen all the scars yet.

“Ummm… hey Vi?” I questioned, cracking open the door just a mere inch. “D-Do you have a jacket or-?”

“Are you still cold?” She wondered, eyebrows furrowing as I saw her approaching the door. “I turned the heat up for you before we came in, can you not feel it yet?”

“Well, I mean- I can it’s just…” My voice shook as I seemed to trip over every word, barely even able to string them together. But thankfully I didn’t have to do much before I felt her hand slipping around my wrist, and the tiniest instinctive flinch I felt myself do was very telling.

“Baby, you don’t have to hide those in front of me, alright?” Her thumb just barely brushed over the scarred skin as I felt the door to the bathroom naturally swinging open, tracing over the individual lines that were slowly fading yet still clear and raised ever so slightly. “You’ll talk to me first if you ever wanna do this again, right? Or it doesn’t even have to be me… me or Ellie or Caitlyn or Jinx or- literally anyone-“

“Violet, I promise.” I spoke, feeling like her full name would add some sort of strength to it. The stronger a promise the more of a reason I would have to not break it. “I- I promise. I-I haven’t even done it in like a month. There was an incident over the summer after I got out of the hospital but Ellie caught me and hasn’t let me be alone with sharp objects since so… her and Caitlyn definitely have precautions.”

Vi let out a heavy breath and nodded, she didn’t want to linger on the subject or pry but I could tell it scared her. And I hated it. How I even managed to scare somebody like Vi. “I just… I really really- really care about you, Mills.” She spoke, stuttering over her own words like she wanted to choose different ones. Nevertheless though she didn’t bounce back to change them or anything. She just simply placed her hands on the side of my face as she pulled me in to place a firm kiss to my forehead. “I know you don’t need it,” She spoke next, arms slipping around me to pull me back into her. Her arms always feeling like such a safe space now, soft but tight all the same. The way she would hold my head against her chest every single time. It felt like a war could be raging on outside and as long as I was here, wrapped up in her arms, I would be safe. “But I just have this overwhelming urge to want to protect you. You’ve been through enough and I just… I want you to finally not have to worry about any of that shit while you’re here. I- I want you to be happy.”

“I am though.” I stated with softened eyes as I peered upwards at her, lifting a hand to softly lay against her cheek. A curious thumb drifting outwards to trace around her light scattering of freckles across her nose. “I am happy. With you. Right now.”

A light smile tugged on her lips, my heart almost feeling like it was skipping in my chest as I felt her hands sliding around my waist once more. “Promise?” She questioned, closing the already small gap between us as she pressed me to her body. And I caught myself hoping she couldn’t feel my racing heart beneath my ribs.

“Promise.” I felt breathless as I stood up to my tiptoes to place my lips to hers. All of the air sweeping out of my lungs as I encircled my arms around her shoulders, Vi always meeting each kiss with equal or more enthusiasm. And each kiss feeling more and more like the first one all over again. Though this one was stronger. Fiercer. Deeper.

“Are you sure you want this?” She seemed to breathe into me as I felt her hands drifting lower, already bringing up that same frustrated ache in between my legs that had only seemed to fester.

I nodded, barely able to choke out a ‘please’ before her arms encircled around my thighs and she lifted my legs to hoist around her waist with ease. “Vi-“ I stammered out with instinctive nerves as my arms tightened for dear life around her shoulders.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. I won’t drop you.” She whispered in a soothing voice before connecting her lips back to mine. Fingers brushing along my bare thighs almost causing me to whimper before she pressed me to her unmade bed where she crawled over top of me with ease. Her hips fit so effortlessly in between my spread legs finally drawing the softest moan from my lips at even the lightest friction. “Hey,” She halted, gentle eyes peering downwards at me as my trembling hands gripped her shoulders for dear life. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay? At any point.”

I gulped an anxious lump down my throat with a nod, almost feeling like my thighs were only tightening around her waist at the uncontrollable ache that seemed to form in my lower abdomen. Our bodies almost seemed to mold together as her hard muscles pressed into my own, flexing around me nearly causing me to let out a breathy moan all over again. Her hands gripping my hips and holding them to the mattress below. “You’ve never been touched before?” She whispered against my lips, the statement causing me to tense up in response. Vi’s expression softened, laying a delicate hand against my cheek as her eyes never left mine for a second, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

I brought an anxious hand up to my lips as if to latch on to one of my nails again as I shook my head in response. “Have you ever touched yourself before?” Another shake of my head as I slipped my nail in between my teeth, cheeks red with embarrassment as I prepared for the absolute worse. Insecurity almost rivaling the unbridled want that seemed to course through every inch of my body. What if she didn’t want this or me? She was so experienced so why on earth would she want me for anything that lasted more than a night? “Hey… Hey, doll, it’s okay.” I heard her soft voice once more, a warm hand brushing underneath my cheekbone just before a small tear could stream down it. “That doesn’t change anything. If you still want this… just tell me. Talk to me.”

The only thing I could hear was the thumping of my heart, the heavy breaths still pushing through my lungs as she stroked my cheek. Her eyes didn’t leave mine for one second, as if searching for any hint of an answer. “I’m just… I-I’m just really scared.” I blew out a long sigh from my tight lungs, leaning into her bruised hand that had never seemed so delicate before. “But I want this- I-I really do I- I want it to be with you.”

“You promise?” She whispered, pressing her forehead to mine as her thumb softly brushed underneath my eyes. “Swear to me?”

“I promise, Vi, on everything, I promise.” I muttered just as I let my arms slip back around her shoulders, answering by pressing my lips to hers once more. I almost whimpered the moment she pressed me back to the bed, her hips slotting perfectly in between my own spread legs. Her hands toying with the hem of my shirt as if asking for silent permission.

My body shivered as I gulped an anxious lump down my throat and nodded. Her eyes were soft as she gingerly lifted the fabric from over my head. On instinct I lifted my quivering hands upwards to my chest as if to cover them until I felt Vi’s careful hands slipping around my wrists. “Let me see you, baby.” She whispered, slowly pulling them away, more silent asks for permission. Giving me the ability to change my mind if I wanted to. But somehow I never wanted to. “So… goddamn… beautiful.” She murmured as her eyes seemed to scan down my body with the look of someone who had never seen the female body before.

“Fuck, doll, you’re way too good for me, you know that?” She spoke with a half smile and a shake of her head before reaching for the back of her wife beater to yank it over her body. I don’t know what I was expecting to be fair, I knew she worked hard on her physique. I could’ve gotten lost just tracing the curves of her muscular arms, her biceps, the darkened lines of her tattoos. But to actually see the entirety of her body, it almost left me choking. The toned markers of her ab muscles and pectoral muscles, the way her back tattoo peeked out from behind her broad shoulders giving way to her hourglass figure. And were those two distinct silver bars poked through her nipples? Her body looked like a work of art itself. Carved and sculpted by only the most talented individuals.

“Ummm, I-I don’t know I- I think you might be too good for me.” I stammered with widened eyes just as I saw her lips lift in a smirk.

“Nah, I think you’re fucking perfect.” She muttered underneath her breath before pressing her bare body to mine as she caught my lips on her own. A soft moan broke through in between kisses, the cool metal of her piercings causing my back to arch against her. Seeking even more of her out as our lips seemed to mold together in a perfect sync. The ache in between my legs only spiraled towards unbearable as my hips bucked upwards, desperate for contact.

Vi let out a low chuckle against my lips before letting her own trail back towards my neck. “Patience, pretty girl, you know I’ll take care of you.” She murmured as I felt the expanse of her hand wrapping around my thigh to give it a faint squeeze.

“It hurts.” I spoke through a quiet whimper, squeezing my arms around her shoulders.

“I know… I know I’ve made you wait too long tonight just hold out for a little bit longer, okay? I wanna savor this.” She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my pulse point before letting them slowly drift lower. Inching towards my collarbone, down my chest, each kiss I swear making that ache in between my legs get stronger and stronger while my breathing grew heavier and heavier by the moment.

Her lips wrapped around one of my perked out nipples, my jaw dropping with a sharp gasp as she ran her tongue around the sensitive area and her hands worked their way down my squirming body. “Can I, doll?” She whispered, lightly tugging at the flimsy pair of underwear still attached to my body. The only piece of clothing still attached to my body.

“Please… please, Violet.” I answered, finally giving up on my attempt not to beg. But her hand was so close. Carefully slipping it underneath the fragile fabric, a heavy moan spilling from my lips at the overwhelming pleasure that finally hit all at once as she brushed a calloused finger against my clit. My nails sunk into her back as I clutched onto her for dear life, “Vi-”

“You’re so sensitive, princess, I barely even touched you.” She whispered, her hot breath against my sensitive breasts causing my chest to arch against her. “You’re soaked too, doll, is all this for me?” I whined in need, probably nodding like a fucking bobblehead as another hand slipped downwards to delicately caress my hip bone, “You wanna let go of me so I can go down on you, baby?”

My arms seemed to squeeze even tighter around her broad shoulders, barely noticing how I had burrowed my face into the crook of her neck. I was terrified to let go of her, even though it felt like a throbbing wet mess in between my thighs. Even though I needed her so bad… so desperately… so intensely I wasn’t even sure what to do with myself. “I’ll still be right here baby, I’m not going anywhere and if you wanna stop you just tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” I finally let out through a long and airy breath with a nod. “Okay.”

“Atta girl.” Her praise brought about another soft moan as she let her lips trail back down my body, immediately causing me to spring upwards onto my elbows with a loud whimper once they reached my lower stomach. Vi’s expression shifted into a more stern one as she lifted her arm once more to wrap her hand around my chin and press me back towards the bed. Gentle, but still firm all the same. “No, you lay back and relax. Let me take care of you.”

“Okay… o-okay.” I said through the same shaky breaths as she inched the now probably soaked underwear down my legs. All hints of nerves seemed to be replaced with need the moment I felt her soft lips brushing along my inner thighs, her hot breath dancing along my core right where I needed her the most. “Violet.” My hips bucked upwards, a shivering hand stretching downwards as if begging for her to take it.

“Shhh, I’m right here.” Vi whispered, lacing her fingers through mine with a tiny squeeze as she placed a line of kisses up my thighs.

My jaw fell open with a cry of pleasure though as I finally felt the warmth of her tongue running upwards through my wet slit. Lapping at my folds I could already feel a sense of euphoria creeping through me as she sent the vibrations of a moan through my body. “Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get enough of you.”

Her hand reached for my thigh, wrapping her arm around the circumference to hoist it over her shoulder with ease. A gasp slid from my throat as she pressed her face closer to my core, parting my continuously slick folds with her tongue, mouth seeming to envelop the entirety of my cunt. My moans grew louder, heavier, my hand practically squeezing the life out of hers at her breath on my clit. Soon replaced by the soft tip of her nose nudging it ever so slightly, with the utmost gentleness like she didn’t want to work me up so quickly. However we were already long past that.

“Vi…” I whimpered, a cry of pleasure sounding from my lips at the stimulation to the sensitive area. My hips bucked almost painfully, rolling against her face almost looking like it was causing her eyes to roll back.

“Good girl.” She whispered, the praise covering me in goosebumps as my leg curled around her head. “Keep moving your hips like that, doll.” My hands tangled into sheets below, back arching all over again as her tongue seemed to move in sync with my hips. A sea of pleasure that made my own eyes roll back. My jaw fell open all over, desperate and erotic moans seeming to take over the entirety of my breaths.

The moment I felt her tongue curling around my clit I nearly shot up once more, massaging the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. Just enough to make me see stars but not enough to rush through it. This wasn’t a matter of her seeing how quickly she could make me finish. This was a matter of her wanting to savor it, take her time, as long as she possibly could. “Vi… V-Violet- oh Violet.” I could barely recognize myself, speaking her name like I knew no other word as she ran a torturously long lick around the circumference of the sensitive bundle of nerves right through my wet folds. A motion that seemed to hit every sweet spot, like she didn’t want to leave an inch of me untouched, untasted. “J-Just like that- o-oh my- just like that, p-please don’t stop.”

“Feels good, baby? Right there?” She whispered, the vibrations of her voice nearly driving me up the wall before diving back in. Increasing the pressure with each lap through, I swear I squeezed her hand so tightly I almost thought it was hurting her. But she didn’t seem to mind, just kept running her thumb along my knuckles in a soothing motion.

“R-Right there… right there… o-oh fuck- Vi!” I practically squealed at the vibrations of her own moans, her soft lips running along my clit that throbbed in pleasure. Another cry of euphoria bursting through my lips as she flattened her tongue against the swollen bundle. Lapping at my center as if she was starving, dying of thirst even.

Closer and closer she drew me towards the edge, my breathing quickening as the pressure in my lower stomach seemed to build to heights I almost couldn’t handle. “Violet… Vi- I- I think I’m gonna cum.” I could barely get the words out at the sensations, the heavy build-up that made tears burn at my eyes.

“Let go for me, baby, just let go. I’m right here.” The high felt neverending, hitting me like a shattered dam as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. My body felt like it was encased entirely in goosebumps, leaving me nearly breathless. Vi worked me through every bit of it though, lapping up every bit of the mess like it was the sweetest nectar she had ever tasted.

The moans turned into sobs not long afterwards, the pleasure reduced to a racing heart as my entire body seemed to shake in the aftermath. “V-Vi?” I stammered through her name, like my brain had almost completely forgotten she was there until she was right in front of me. Hands cupping the sides of my face, soft powder blue eyes coming into view as she smoothed out my messy hair, strands probably soaked in sweat.

“Right here, doll, I’m right here.” She whispered, her voice a soothing symphony over the roar within my head, and I caught myself curling my trembling hands around her shoulders as if in some attempt to ground myself. I burrowed my face into the crook of her neck while the white noise of her shushes slowly drowned out the feeling of my racing heart. She didn’t pull away until the shaking stopped, soft thumbs stroking my cheeks as she wiped away every bit of the tears.

“You still with me, princess?” She whispered, the softest hand of all time gently curling around my chin and pulling me to face her.

“I- y-yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” I said through a long and heavy breath, almost trying to match them up with Vi’s, making it just the tiniest bit easier to catch my own. “I’m sorry I- I should’ve anticipated that that was gonna happen. Th-That was amazing a-and I don’t want you to feel like it wasn’t-”

“Baby girl, you don’t have anything to apologize for. And you don’t have to explain yourself to me, okay?” She said with a shake of her head, brushing scarred lips against my temple. The weight of her body felt like a warm blanket, a soothing embrace as I wrapped tight arms around her broad shoulders, probably clinging to her like a damn koala. “Do you need me to get you anything, princess? Something to eat maybe? I live with a fuck ton of jocks but I’m sure I could find something you like.”

“I… like you.” I murmured, cheeks as red as roses as I let my pointer finger gently trace along the curve of her jaw.

“Doll, I know, you already have me though. What else can I get you?” She chuckled lightly, pressing her lips to my forehead this time. Sweet little delicate kisses that only made my smile grow. I had definitely thought about what I’d be into during sex, but never really put a ton of thought into what I’d want during aftercare. I guess I always assumed I’d probably be high maintenance due to sensory overload and so on… but with Vi, I found that in a lot of ways her arms were enough. Still, I didn’t want her to think I was too clingy.

“Do you by any chance have a weighted blanket? And can you tie my hair back… maybe?” I questioned, nervously chewing on my bottom lip and hoping it wasn’t too much. Vi only cracked another small smile as she nodded.

“Yeah, I think I can do that, and I’ll see if we have one.”

Moments later after a few more forehead kisses and cleaning myself up in the bathroom, she was gently running a brush through my long hair as my eyelids fluttered with exhaustion. She of course wasn’t very well-versed in hair care. Not in the way that Caitlyn would always braid it in different intricate styles whenever we were growing up and Ellie even being surprisingly good at it whenever we were in the psychiatric program over the summer. I didn’t mind though. It was soothing, feeling her take her time running the brush through the long strands, getting all the knots out.

“Is this your love language? Letting people play with your hair?” She finally spoke up after a moment of comfortable silence.

The corners of my lips quirked upwards in a little chuckle as I felt her twisting the thick strands into a loose ponytail, though I wouldn’t have minded letting her run her fingers through it for a fair bit longer. I guess that answered her question. “Caitlyn started it I guess you could say. I’ve always liked my long hair and felt really pretty with it so I never wanted to cut it short but… sometimes having it down would just make it so much easier for me to get overstimulated. And my parents never had time to, well, do a ton of nurturing stuff like do their daughter’s hair so- Caitlyn learned how. I swear almost every day from year 5 onwards she would do my hair every day before school. She had like a dozen different girls asking her to braid theirs at some point too for like, school dances and formals and stuff.”

I rambled on, my cheeks only heating in response as I fiddled around with the edge of Vi’s shirt that I had slipped back on. “Sorry- i-if I talk about her too much, I know she’s sort of your ex, she’s just- she’s like my best friend, you know?”

“She’s hardly my ex.” Vi almost snickered with a shake of her head. “And I get it, she’s a big part of your life… and in all honesty I can’t blame her for being at least a little bit wary about, you know,” She took in a deep breath as she lounged back against her bed, arms stretching upwards to rest her hands behind her head. A moment of hesitation passing, as if she was afraid to say the words. “Us.”

Something felt like it was blooming in my chest as she said those words. A deep flush creeping back up into my cheeks that I ultimately tried to ignore as I cautiously moved to lay next to her. “How come?” I wondered, curling up onto my side as I watched her eyes sweep over to meet mine.

“You really wanna see the good in everybody, don’t you, doll?” She questioned, the dodge of the question causing my chest to tighten for a brief moment.

“Not always.” I muttered with a tiny shrug, “I’ve found that humans are vastly complicated beings. They’re rarely entirely evil, and even then… we rarely actually think we’re entirely evil, and then whenever we do- it’s rarely true.”

“You sure you’re not a philosophy major?” She questioned with a lifted brow, a tiny giggle breaking through my lips as I let myself inch closer to her warmth.

“Definitely not, but I am an english lit major which is… kind of the same thing.” I suggested with another shy shrug as I curled up to her side, immediately feeling her muscular arm sliding around my shoulders to pull me into her chest. Surprisingly soft, those same damn pheromones drawing my eyes shut as I draped my other arm around her body.

I barely even noticed it at first, my fingers accidentally brushing against the lines of a few slightly raised scars etched onto her side. Though I almost jumped whenever I heard Vi’s breath hitch and her hand wrap around my wrist to pull it from the area, instead letting it settle against her chest. “I-I’m sorry.” I stammered, shoulders tucking inwards in an instinctual wince.

“No, it’s okay, doll… it’s just a sensitive spot, you didn’t know.” Her hand loosened on my wrist at the reaction, brushing a soft thumb along my knuckles as she did so. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” She added with a slightly guilty sigh as she lifted my hand upwards to brush her lips to my knuckles next.

“I feel like-” I began, cautiously tossing the words around in my head as I rested my cheek back on her chest. Weighing them in my head, still approaching each interaction with caution. Because I was raised in an environment where asking questions was seen as an act of defiance. “You know everything about me but I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know everything that matters.” She spoke with a sigh that almost sounded exasperated, brushing her fingers underneath my chin to tilt my head upwards to meet her eyes. Still gentle, still careful, but firm in her stance nonetheless. “I’ll tell you more eventually, okay doll? But for now I really need you to get some rest, alright? I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

I caught my bottom lip in between my teeth, fighting back my stubborn and anxious protests with a nod. “Promise?” I muttered, finally drawing another tiny smile from her lips, nearly causing me to sigh in relief at the sight. She isn’t angry, she isn’t angry at you. You’re fine.

“I promise.” She answered, brushing a soft pair of lips against my forehead before I could snuggle back into her chest.

I almost wished I could say sleep came more difficult that night, in a new environment wrapped up in the arms of someone who clearly wasn’t just a friend. I wished I could’ve said that so I could convince myself I wasn’t falling too hard too impossibly fast. But it came so easy… and I was clearly well and truly past the point of just falling.

~

The empty locker room after the break of dawn was usually the best place to breakdown in private. Especially with Jinx being a known snooper, Ellie being a known introvert, and Jinx also not being the best person to wake up without landing yourself a black eye. And in Ellie’s defense, it’s not like she could sleep. So she had originally drug herself to the 24-hour gym attached to the hockey rink first to blow off some steam which later… of course- resulted in her breaking down where she was today. Her face buried into her knees, sketchbook open in front of her and headphones latched over top of her head playing music that absolutely was not going to make her feel better.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried to this extent. Certainly not while she had been here, and if she had she couldn’t remember. But this wasn’t a cry she could easily forget. It was one that made her entire head ache, and even more so the space behind her red eyes. The type of cry that you could feel in your chest, a crushing ache that almost made you think your heart was actually physically breaking.

It was ultimately a selfish reason to cry, brought on by her own co-dependency. And maybe partially a feeling she wasn’t quite ready to admit yet.

The feeling of someone tugging at her headphones nearly made her jump out of skin. Probably letting out a supremely embarrassing squeal as she dropped them around her neck. “Geez? Crying alone in the locker room? Not even the lounge? You must be on some serious self-deprecating shit.”

“Jesus Abby! A warning would’ve been nice!” Ellie huffed as she immediately dug at her eyes with the heels of her hands in some attempt to hopefully dry it all up before she could make a fool of herself even more than she already had.

“I said your name like 5 times and snapped in front of your face. This was a last ditch effort.” Abby said with a shake of her head before whirling around to face her locker. “You look like shit, what’s up with you? Boy trouble? Girl trouble? Whatever you’re into trouble?”

“Definitely not boy trouble.” Ellie whispered, bringing out her phone to pause the song still raging in her headphones.

“I figured but- didn’t wanna assume.” Abby said with a shrug, already setting to work with undoing her lock as she shrugged the oversized backpack from her shoulders. “So… girl trouble then?”

“Why are you acting like you care?” A slight crack crept into Ellie’s voice as she peered over at her, and she hated herself for it.

“Oh… I don’t- don’t flatter yourself. Sometimes that’s easier though… talking about it with somebody who doesn’t care.” Abby added casually as she began to unpack, shooting another nonchalant look Ellie’s way with another simple shrug. “Up to you. You can of course let it fester if you want, seem like an expert at doing that anyways.”

“I don’t let things fester I- not anymore. I just can’t talk to people about this.”

“You mean you can’t talk to Amelia about this.” It wasn’t even phased as a question because she already knew. Ellie was easier to read than she liked to let on. In fact whenever she was in the hospital one of the first things she was called out for was her ‘resting sad face’. Whenever it was blotchy and tear-stained it probably didn’t make it any better.

“She would hate me.” She muttered to herself, not even knowing why she was even talking to Abby about this. But regardless she was. “I would blindside her… right whenever she’s finally happy. Right whenever she’s finally making connections with somebody who isn’t me. I can’t- I can’t do that to her. I would look so fucking selfish!”

“My god, you’re such an opposite of a piece of shit it drives me crazy.” Abby huffed as she dropped the remainder of her backpack load in the locker before whipping around to face her. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re bawling your eyes out to Taylor Swift alone in a locker room at 6:30 in the morning, currently spilling your guts out to your bully instead of any of your actual friends because you’re worried about how your pain affects other people. Do you not realize how ridiculous that sounds, Williams?”

“Because I don’t want my pain to be the cause of other people’s pain because I don’t know how to control it, Abby! I’ve spent 20 years of my life being a piece of shit and not being able to control myself and you wanna know how the universe responded? By giving me a fucking gun!” Her voice cracked as she flew up to her feet, eyes burning and blurring with incessant tears and fury chipping away at every single bit of sanity she had worked so hard to finally develop. “I can’t- I- I’m sorry. I-I should go.” She sniffled, lifting a shaking hand as she quickly shoved the sketchbook back into her backpack. She barely could understand the words that came out of her own mouth, the tremble seeming to take over her entire body.

Fuck, what had happened to her? She was unstoppable in the army, her gun like an extension of her hand. And there she was, the youngest person in her platoon yet simultaneously the best shot her lieutenant had seen in a while. But now, here she was, breaking down alone in a locker room, overtaken by the shakes.

She had become so weak. So defenseless. So everything she promised herself she’d never be.

“It’s a shame.” Abby spoke up with a carefree sigh and a shrug, “We were finally starting to get somewhere.”

“Listen, Abby-” Ellie huffed as she hoisted her backpack onto her back before whirling around to face her once more. “I know you think you have me all figured out but respectfully, you really don’t, okay? Wh-Whatever version of me you created in your head… she just isn’t real. I-I’m not a good person, Abby.”

“So ask yourself, is my version of you the one that isn’t real or is it the version of you that you had no choice but to be?” She took a step closer, Ellie’s breath almost hitching in her throat the second she had to tilt her head upwards to meet her eyes. It was only a few inches of a difference, three minuscule tiny inches, but lord did it feel like so much more than that. Her broad frame that felt like it could’ve covered Ellie’s entire figure.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Ellie stammered, arms slipping around herself in a makeshift hug or a shield either one. She didn’t know which one she needed more. “You throw my face into the ice one day and get your shit rocked by Vi trying to defend Amelia’s honor and now you’re talking me down in the locker rooms the next? D-Did she seriously have that much of an impact on you?”

“Vi’s a pretty good mediator believe it or not. She’s not just a dumb jock who only thinks with her fists.” Abby added, taking a step backwards only to start unbuttoning her many layers to protect herself from the cold. And Ellie couldn’t help but to gulp a dry lump down her throat the moment Abby finally stood in not much other than a simple grey wife-beater. Just in time for Abby to glance her way and catch her eye. “Are you just here to ogle now or-”

“In your dreams, Anderson.” She scoffed, quickly turning away from her to grab her half-drank water bottle. “I’m not into ‘roided out mascs.”

“Your blush says differently but go off, Williams.” Abby stated, eyes briefly giving Ellie a once over which only causing her cheeks to burn even more.

“That’s only because it’s cold.” Ellie brushed off, a hand flying upwards to her face as if in some attempt to wipe away the flush. “Anyways umm, I-I should go. Thanks for the pep talk… I think.”

“Oh you absolutely should thank me for the pep talk. Will I see you at training later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Ellie forced out, almost wincing as she pulled herself from the locker room. Not letting out the frustrated groan she was currently feeling until she was completely out of the building.

A/N: i’m so sorry it’s taking me longer to pump these out 😭 mental health has not been killing it lately but i’m still trying hard to put out good content i just might need a bit of a break occasionally 😅 regardless though i have so much fun shit planned for this story so i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! also… brief hint of ellabs at the end?? thoughts?? 😌

Credits: main divider by @saradika-graphics mdni divider by @adornedwithlight 🤎

Taglist: @sawaagyapong @autisticgirlkisser @macamilarofe @nombreuxx @snowbunnyboo @lils-1979 @myrrusstuff @baylegend6 @withyou-withoutthem @lil7-I @cloudy-fay @liliwritin @primarina-diamandis @soodle-noup @livil589 @riches-expresso @deepobservationcherryblossom @pixieolives-blog @roseannih @fernanda-2022 @clefairysoup @cherrybomb2298 @purplerose418 @sharklover331 @lizzielovee @rocknr0ll @nomarksonelegance

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[lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me]

⋆୨♡୧⋆bitchless era ending soon⋆୨♡୧⋆

walking into the meeting room y/n couldn’t help but internally scream. what the hell was he doing here? why didn’t her manager tell her about this? especially since she was just in practice and didn’t have time to dress up and hopefully look not a hot mess. her mouth dropped open in shock, resisting the urge to yell “what the fuck” in front of everyone. after a moment of awkward silence her manager spoke up. “y/n meet riki, riki meet y/n. you guys will be working together from now on. we set up this time for you to meet and talk and get to know each other.” she gestured to riki’s manager, “we’ll be going so you two can talk freely. have fun!” the two left and left riki and y/n alone. while y/n was having her internal panic, little did she know, so was he. the moment he saw her he knew he was fucked. after heeseung gave him no help, he had no idea what to say to her. “soo…” he said “your debut was really good!”. y/n didn’t know what to do. her celebrity crush of 3 years, just complimented her music. all that she could muster was “uh- thanks you too”. thanks you too???? why the hell would she say that? he laughs slightly, not being able to help but think about how cute she was. “um are you excited to start mcing?” she asks, nervousness clear in her voice. he smiled, “yeah i am, what about you?” she tried her absolute hardest to not say something stupid again and said “yeah! just a little nervous though. i’ve never done anything like this before.” riki saw his opportunity, he knew he had to take it. even though he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. “we should hang out sometime. i’ve done it a couple times before, i could give you some tips to make it easier!” no. fucking. way. too many thoughts were running through y/ns head. did nishimura riki really just ask her to hang out? there’s no way this is real. never did she think that this would happen “uhhhh- yeah! yeah sure that would be fun!” whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck “okay nice! how about tomorrow?” whatshappeningwhatshappeningwhatshappening “yeah sure. that sounds perfect” holy. shit. cha y/n is hanging out with nishimura riki. “okay, ill see you then” riki had never been more nervous in his whole life. he couldn’t wait to shove this in all of his members faces. “im sure you have to get back to practice, right?” there was no shock as to why he knew that, she looked like a sweaty mess. “yeah, actually. i do. so i’ll see you then!” she overthought her every word, and move. how could she not when she’s around him. to her, he was perfect. “see you around!” riki left the room and practically ran back to his dorm. that couldn’t have gone better. y/n however, was freaking the ever living hell out. “did nishimura riki just ask me out? no that’s not possible we just met eachother! it’s friendly! that’s all!” after what felt like hours of contemplating she decided to go back to the dorm, tweet about it, and tell taesan and jaehyun. i mean, how was she supposed to go back to practice after something like this?

fic masterlist | next | previous

luckys note!: i’m sorry this took so long guys!! schools getting crazy since it’s almost the end of the year. but i hope you enjoyed the first written chapter! this is my first time like, actually writing so i hope it turned out good!

© lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📍) PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN!

(🩷) MIDNIGHT FICTION TAGLIST! @nctislifue @akuspic @pkjay @siya-bean @eun-chaez @wavetosunoo @gweoriz @luminouskalopsia @soobiary @ivyannemarie @rikikiynikilcykiki @emma2black @enh4ht @wooziswife @jjunie-0 @yumilovesloona @wth121 @riksaes @isaxshin @allforhee @rikisgeef @chxrlvspp @sunghoonsarmpit @autumn583 @tzuyusluv

(dm me/comment under the midnight fiction masterlist to be added!)

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

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

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

[oriley42]

How to Reply to Fic Comments

Saw this poll asking authors why they don't reply to comments on their fic. Realized I've seen a number of posts about how to comment on fic, but I haven't seen one with advice to authors on how to reply to comments! (There's probably one out there, but hey, the more the merrier 🎉)

As an author who replies to virtually every fic comment (albeit with a 3-5 business day waiting period), here are some of my strategies:

1. Disclaimer/Why Reply?

A fic author isn't obligated to reply to comments, but if you're a writer and WANT to reply but don't know how/feel too anxious to do so, then this post is for you! Responding to people who comment on your fic can be fun, it can make your fic a living story (even if you're done posting it, you're still engaging the ideas in conversation!), and it can jumpstart short or long term friendships in fandom as you chat about things you love together.

2. Just say "thank you"

A lot of authors in the above linked poll say that they feel bad or anxious about just replying "thank you," especially to a longer comment. However, I've never been anything but happy to get an author's reply--of any length--when I leave a comment. Even just a "💖" reply from them makes me feel seen! Think about your experience: would you rather get nothing back or get a brief "thank you" from an author? Would you be mad at them for not writing some ~super eloquent~ response to your happy keyboard smash? Would you complain if it took them a week to send that reply? Of course, not!

Don't stress the length or originality or punctuality of your reply, just know that any amount of kindness is appreciated.

3. Expand on the Basics

Want to add more to your "thank you"? Start with some basic forms of gratitude that can apply to almost any comment!

Add emojis 💖🥰🎉😍🌈👌

Add an action, ex. "Thank you for reading" "Thank you for taking the time to read/comment" "Thank you for such an insightful review/analysis of the story"

Add your emotion! "This comment made my whole week" "so happy to see this comment in my inbox" "I'm so glad you enjoyed the story"

Advanced: Remember, we're all fans here! You can squee in a comment reply, you can be giggling and kicking your feet. If a reader says "I am chewing on this fic" you can say "*adds salt and angst*" Have fun with it! Be free of the cringe panopticon!

4. Get Specific

An easy way to start writing more complex replies is to mirror the format of the comment. Take it as a template; look at each sentence/phrase and reply specifically to that piece.

Plot: "I'm really excited to see what happens next 👀" -> "I can't wait to share the next chapter 🤩"

Writing skill: "your characterization is soooo good" -> "thank you, I've really been focusing on character voice lately!" or you can share more personal feelings -> "I'm always worried about sounding ooc, it's such a relief to know the characters rang true"

Emotions: "this made me cry for real 😭" -> "I was crying while writing it 😭" or "angst is my favorite thing to write" or "your tears feed the author's angst-machine 😈"

Bonus: try to take compliments gracefully rather than reject them! Fight the impulse to be self-deprecating and deflect or minimize your work (ex. "i don't think so but thanks anyway" "I should've spent more time editing" "I usually suck at X"). Someone read your work and liked it--do them the courtesy of believing what they say.

5. Behind the Scenes

This is your chance to share your writing process! Writing can be a lonely thing but fandom gives you people to share it with. Most fans who take the time to comment are interested in hearing more from the author!

In your comment reply, you can talk about how and when you wrote the piece ("I wrote that ending on my phone on the bus haha"), why you did ("I hadn't seen any fics about X so I decided to write it myself!"), choices you made while writing ("I thought about doing Plot Thing A, but decided to go with Plot Thing B because it seemed funnier"), about emotions you felt ("I was so sad after the season finale, I wanted to write something fluffy but oops, it turned into hurt/comfort with a lot of hurt!") or challenges you faced ("I ended up doing a ton of research on Topic Z to make it feel real and accurate").

As you build a rapport with a commenter (and if you reply to comments, your chances are much better that you'll get a repeat commenter to build that lovely relationship with) it will get even easier and more fun. You can reference past chapters or other works, talk about the shared specific things you love about those characters/fandoms, and maybe develop a real friendship: make a character playlist together, see if they're interested in beta-ing your work, or joining a shared Discord server.

At the end of the day, the best guidance is simply to have fun and be kind! 🌈

[hapuchika]

The White Healer Chapter 4

Note: Hi guys, I'm really sorry for not posting sooner. I've had a couple of family problems and haven't exactly been in the best headspace. I'll work on posting more frequently. I hope you like this chapter, it's longer than other's cause there's so much I wanted to put out there.

Warnings: Blood, graphic description of injuries, angst.

Summary: Just a chapter where everyone gets to know reader better.

Series Masterlist

X--X--X--X--X

As it turns out, the team building activity that you were dreading turned out to be Jenga. While unsure how it built team character, it did work on making your more comfortable with the rest of the team. Due to you still being new to the team, you had requested a month to work out by yourself so that you could get back into shape. As horrible as the scientists had been, they did teach you an efficient way to get into peak performance. Working out from 12am till 5am everyday was good enough. Within the third week, you had already noticed the definition of your muscles, you’d put on pure muscle mass, and your stamina plus healing ability enabled you to sprint approximately 20 miles without stopping. It was going well until one day, you were working on the punching bag and were so focused that you lost track of time. It was 7 am when Natasha and Steve returned from their daily run and saw you workout. You hadn’t noticed them due to the music playing out loud. Natasha, however, saw you and immediately ran towards you. You were brought out of your headspace when you saw Natasha grab your arms, unshed tears forming as she stared at your hands. Steve stepped closer and was horrified to find the ground and punching bag covered in blood. Upon closer inspection, he found your hands caked in blood too. You looked at them confused.

“What?” You asked concerned, completely unaware of why they looked white as a sheet.

Natasha and Steve looked at you with wide eyes.

“Why are you covered in blood y/n?” Natasha asked, letting go of your arms now that you’d stopped punching the bag and brought them to her sides.

You looked even more confused.

“I was going to clean it up when I was done?” You said uncertainly.

“Is this… common for you?” Steve asked slowly.

You hesitated for a moment. Natasha seeing your clear discomfort of being caught off guard came up with an idea.

“How about this, y/n cleans up the gym and herself and then the 3 of us can sit together and figure out a.. neater way of you working out?” She suggested.

Before you could say anything, Steve agreed and the two of them walked out. Grumbling you started to clean.

The first thing you noticed was Natasha staring at your hands as you sat down. You leaned towards her and put your hand on her cheek. You didn’t fail to notice the way she almost leaned into your hand.

“I’m completely fine, Nat” You reassured her.

She looked at you with a vulnerability that took your breath away. It was at that moment that Wanda entered the kitchen. She paused as she noticed the two of you, you started to lean back but froze when Nat grabbed your hand and brought it back to her cheek.

“Please” she said, “I need to know you’re okay.. there was so much blood..”

Wanda frowned. Whether she was upset or confused, you weren’t entirely sure. She walked towards the two of you and sat down next to Natasha. Natasha didn’t break eye contact even when Wanda gently rubbed her lower back. You brought your other hand to Natasha’s face and leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. This seemed to reassure her greatly as her shoulders relaxed.

“I promise you, I’m completely okay” You said softly.

Your eyes darted to Wanda for a second, expecting protectiveness or anger but all you were met with was a warm look of concern that melted your heart.

“I’ll explain everything” you thought loudly. 

Wanda nodded her head, indicating she’d heard you. While you’d given her explicit permission to read your thoughts at any given time, she was still hesitant to do so. The three of you stayed like that for a few more minutes until you heard someone’s footsteps nearing. You could physically see Natasha’s walls coming back up, Wanda too. You sat back in your chair but held Natasha’s hand underneath the table. She gently squeezed in gratitude, her face showing nothing. Steve entered the kitchen and faltered when he saw the three of you sitting in silence looking at him with the exact same expression. Clearing his throat, Steve sat down next to you on the opposite side of Natasha. He looked at you expectantly. If he was confused by why Wanda was here, he didn’t show it. 

“I was wondering if you could tell us a little bit about what happened in the training room?” Steve asked gently.

You took a deep breath and began.

“Okay so, shortly after I.. um.. got my power.. I went to the hospital in a different country and immediately began to heal patients with chronic and terminal illnesses. Cancer, ALS, Alzheimers, and so on. Unfortunately that gained the wrong kind of attention. The government had kidnapped me and taken me straight to a remote facility. They um.. tested the limits of my self healing. They’d break bones, cut off limbs, electrocute, and do a bunch of other things.”

You were unable to meet anyones eye-line, your body remembering each and every single thing they’d done. It was another side effect of the power you gained. While most people tended to forget the physical pain their body experienced over time, your body learned and remembered every single feeling it went through. Every cut, tear, burn. You could feel it all the moment you tried to remember it. Your body won’t ever lot you forget. Wanda had heard your thoughts and had to use everything in her power not to start bawling the moment those images came to your mind. Her grip on Natasha’s lower back tightened, she relayed what she’d heard to Natasha in her mind and felt Natasha’s body stiffen as she registered what happened.

You looked up as Natasha’s grip on your hand tightened, only to see the two women barely holding it together. Realising what transpired, you let out a weak smile and continued.

“Once they realised there was no limit to my regenerative capabilities, they attempted to train me for combat. They’d get fighters to take turns beating me into submission for hours on end until I learned to defend myself. I um.. I’m not good at combat.. So they tried to train me for um.. you know what, never mind. Basically they taught me to train past my body’s limits by constantly healing myself. They did it for years on end until it was ingrained into me. So yeah.. That’s why you saw what you saw..” You concluded.

“I’m so sorry, detka” Wanda whispered in your head.

“It’s alright, it’s in the past” you replied

“I can help train you in combat.” Steve said. “You could become a vital part of the attack te-“

Natasha scoffed, bringing his attention to her. He leaned back startled as he saw Natasha glaring at him and Wanda’s furious eyes glowing red. Both of them had the urge to throw him through the nearest window. You merely stared at him in shock. Tears made their way down your face. You withdrew your hand from Natasha’s and stood up.

“I’m sorry I need to go” you muttered, and hurried out of the room.

“Y/n” Wanda called out but it was too late, you were out of earshot. Natasha continued to glare at Steve.

“You ever suggest that again that again and I’ll test just how strong your healing factor is.” Natasha spat, standing up abruptly.

“I just meant-“ Steve tried to defend.

“We don’t care.” Wanda stated firmly. “She just told you what she went through and you thought of weaponising her just like those assholes.”

“Langua-“

“Don’t” Natasha warned.

She walked away before Steve could plead his case. Wanda glared at him one last time before following her out.

“FRIDAY” Natasha called out. “Where is y/n right now?”

“I believe Miss Y/n is one the roof.” FRIDAY stated

Holding hands, Natasha and Wanda made their way to the roof. Natasha reflected back to how she felt when she saw y/n work out and their interaction in the kitchen. She felt a little scared. The red room had trained her to always be in control, regardless of whether it was in bed or any interaction with others. Sure, she pretended to be submissive in front of her targets, but she was just toying with them. Even with Wanda, she was in control. But y/n.. that girl was something else.. For the first time in Natasha’s life, she wanted to give up control. She felt so safe and comfortable giving up control in y/n’s presence. It scared her but also excited her. 

Since the sun had already started to set, the cold had set in. Being Russian and Sokovian, the cold didn’t bother them that much. The were, however, concerned about y/n. She wasn’t from a cold country. Natasha was glad to see that Wanda had brought a blanket without any prompt. When you didn’t acknowledge their presence, they slowly sat down on either side of you. Wanda draped the blanket over the three of you. While she didn’t say it out loud, she secretly enjoyed the feeling of the three of you cuddled together. She knew Natasha definitely felt the same, she just hoped you did too. The girls simultaneously rested their head on your shoulder, both surprised to feel muscle instead of bone. The rigorous workout must be effective.

“I have a request” Natasha started.

You hummed in question.

“From now on, could you please train with either me or Wanda? We won’t train combat, We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Just, please don’t push us away.” She said.

Your head turned to her, only to notice the lack of space between your faces. Your eyes flitted down to her gorgeous lips and back. Natasha’s heart stuttered at the action, waiting for your next move. You looked away into the distance and nodded.

“There’s something you should know.” You confessed. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth downstairs.”

When you were met with silence, you continued. 

“After they realised no matter what torture they used, I would refuse to fight and hurt others. They tried to train me to do suicide missions.. I.. they would strap bombs to my chest and blow me up as I walked to targeted spots as training.”

Both of the girls held your hands as tears made their way down your face.

“It hurt so much” you croaked. “The feeling of my body being torn apart and nerves slowly growing.”

Unable to take anymore, you let out a sob. Immediately Wanda enveloped you in a hug, Natasha doing the same until you were sandwiched between them.

“No one is going to test on us” Wanda whispered. “Not anymore.”

You continued to sob into her shoulder as they whispered words of comfort in your ear. Eventually, you found yourself laying down between the two women. The warmth their bodies provided and the exhaustion of your mind caused you to fall into a deep sleep. For some reason it was the best sleep you’d ever had.

The dynamic between the three of you had completely changed after that night. They were definitely your best friends. No matter how much you wished they could be more, but they were together. They didn’t need you in their relationship, you’d just hold them back. You didn’t let that bother you, no matter how guilty you felt at times during movie night when the two insisted you sit besides them. A week later Steve came up to you as you were eating breakfast.

“I’m really sorry y/n. It was incredibly insensitive of me to suggest what I did that night” he said. Natasha was reading on the sofa, but you could see her eyes on Steve, intently listening to what he was saying.

“It was never my intention to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. You absolutely do not have to train combat if you don’t want to. We all value you as a team member just the same.”

You slowly nodded your thanks. While you appreciated his apology, you were more nervous about your first workout session with Wanda and Natasha. They said they both wanted to be there for your first time as a group workout.

You entered the gym and noticed that the two women had already started working out, Wanda doing squats while Natasha was stretching. Your jaw dropped as you witnessed the two working out in their sports bra and tights. Natasha’s toned abs on display as she did the cobra pose. Your eyes shifted to Wanda and your knees felt weak. You saw sweat make its way down her neck and get lost into her cleavage. Feeling like a pervert for staring you cleared your throat and mentally cursed yourself. Both of them paused what they were doing and started walking towards you. Wanda grinned in excitement while Natasha smiled welcomingly.

“Alright y/n. Why don’t you tell us what your workout looks like and we’ll figure out a safer way to get the same results? Maybe Wanda and I can help spot you too.” Natasha asked.

“Oh cool. Okay, so basically, I run for a little bit. Then I do some strength training, followed by some bag work” you replied, already starting to stretch.

“Perfect, we can join you in running, I was planning on doing legs today, maybe we can workout together?” Wanda suggested. You nodded in agreement and the three of you walked to the treadmills.

“What speed are we running at?” Natasha asked off handedly.

Without thinking “We’ll start with 20 kmph and go from there?” You said, increasing the speed and began running. 

Wanda froze. Refusing to back down, she started the treadmill and began running at full speed. 5 minutes later Wanda was panting, slowing the treadmill down and looking at the other two in amazement. She noticed Natasha wasn’t doing to great either. Around 10 minutes later Natasha slowed down, unable to maintain the pace. Natasha’s face burned as she realised you had unintentionally outlasted both her and Wanda. She spared a glance at Wanda and that little shit had the audacity to smirk. Natasha looked to her right to see you and to her amazement, you were in a full out sprint. Natasha’s jaw dropped to see that you had been running at 35kmph all this while. An hour later, neither of them had the energy to continue running and got off the treadmill. Both of them stunned at the fact that you hadn’t changed your pace for a single second in the past hour. Wanda cleared her throat, brining you out of your focus. You slowed down and stopped, hopping off the treadmill and walking towards them. While you were breathing heavily, you looked nowhere near as exhausted as the other two felt. You smiled at them brightly.

“Time for some strength training?” You asked genuinely.

Wanda glared at you as she sat on a bench, gulping some water. You noticed their exhausted state and knelt towards Wanda.

“Can I help” you asked gently.

Tilting her head in confusion, she nodded. You slowly grabbed both hands and closed your eyed. Wanda gasped as she felt a warmth envelope her. Her soreness exhaustion dissipate and energy enter her entire body. When you let go, Wanda stood up and twisted a couple of times. She felt better than ever before. Not a hint of exhaustion throughout her body. Natasha watched in amazement at the change in her girlfriend, even her slight dark circles had disappeared.

“Is this how you feel all the time?” Wanda asked in awe.

You chuckled. “Not exactly” you replied.

Before Wanda could inquire further, you turned to Natasha and asked for permission. She nodded, blushing slightly when you took her hand. Natasha, too, gasped when she felt warmth take over. Her muscles relaxing. Even the ache she’d been feeling in her knee vanished. She almost whined when you stepped back, the warm feeling throughout her body slowly dissipating. You hadn’t realised what happened but Wanda did. Natasha saw Wanda give her a smug smile. 

You were about to walk to the free weight section when Natasha asked if the group could use the squat rack instead. Shrugging, you made your way to them. Unfortunately, your oversized sweatshirt kept on getting stuck to the squat rack. Sighing, you removed your sweatshirt. Leaving you in a full sleeved compression t-shirt and loose sweatpants. Wanda and Natasha completely froze as they saw you.

“Holy shit” Natasha thought.

“I agree” Wanda replied in her mind.

Your bulging muscles were on display, your muscular arms stretching the compression t-shirt. Natasha totally wasn’t staring at your abs and Wanda was definitely not staring at your arms. You paused, smirking when you noticed why the two were silent. You walked towards Natasha, lifted your finger to close her jaw. Her face flushed at the action.

“You’ll let flies in if you keep doing that” You teased with a smirk.

Wanda shamelessly stared at your sculpted back, looking away only when you started walking back to the squat rack.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you drooling, Wands” you stated, starting to workout.

It was Wanda’s turn to blush and Natasha to smirk. The rest of the workout went surprisingly well, neither of them commented on how heavy you were lifting for all of the exercises. At first, Natasha thought you were showing off for them but quickly quelled the thought as that was definitely not the kind of person you were. It was one of the things she lo- liked about you.

Post workout everyone went to their respective rooms and got ready for dinner. The training session ended up taking 4 hours.

As usual, you were a little late. Everyone was already sitting down, ready to eat. Wanda insisted to wait for you, to which they reluctantly agreed. You entered the room and your heart warmed as you saw Natasha and Wanda had saved a seat for you between the two of them. As you were about to sit down, your eyes fell on the robot sitting at the table. You froze when you saw what was on his forehead. A gasp left your lips, bringing everyone’s eyes to you. Wanda stood quickly, walking to you. Alarm bells ringing in her head as she felt shock, anger, and most of all grief rolling off you in waves. Thor, not picking up on your mood merely introduced you.

“The Vision, this is lady y/n. She’s the newest addition to our team. Lady Y/n, this is the vision. A synthezoid creat-“

“Thor shut up for a second” Nat interrupted. “Detka, what’s wrong?” She asked you.

You raised a trembling finger towards Vision.

“Why do you have that fucking stone” You gritted out.

“I am unaware of what you mean” Vision said, confused.

“That stone.” You seethed. “Killed my sister.”

X--X--X--X--X

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and tell me your thoughts!

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp @nothanksbye07 @jono723 @luadyjcmd @alexawynters

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 3

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You sighed as you stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's events over and over. What a… stressful first day. First, the other Lieutenant doesn’t like you, then the gift your fiancé gave you breaks, and you get the shards in your hand and have to have Soap help you pull them out. What a mess. You clenched your hand a little, sighing at the feeling of the wounds splitting open. These are the days you wish he were still- you need to stop thinking about him. He’s dead and gone. In the past. If only it were that simple. But it is that simple. It really isn’t. It is. It’s not.

You rolled over, glancing at the clock, and sighed— 1 am. You buried your face into the pillows and immediately relaxed. Your brow furrowed for only a moment before you fell asleep. The smell of citrus and cedar lulled you away to the best sleep you’d known in years.

~~

You were lying on the ground, a thick dust clouding up around you as you struggled to regain your senses, the sound of thundering boots approaching you, grabbing you by your vest, and attempting to pull you up. Keyword: attempting. You were quickly dropped as a red mist hit your cheek, the hulking man before you with a newfound hole in his head. He collapsed on top of you, and you were quick to shove his corpse off, the drop shaking you back to reality.

“Too close, Ghost.” You grumbled into your earpiece, wiping the blood off your face with the back of your hand. You recovered your rifle and shouldered it, moving to take cover.

“You’re getting sloppy. Did you eat when we told you to?” He asked, another gunshot coming over his mic. “I have a feeling you didn’t. I can see it, in the way you’re shaking.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice— which wasn’t lost on you.

“I meant that you almost got me too with that shot. Did you eat?” You asked, annoyed, “Why do you care? Christ, you sound like my fiancé. Always on my ass about eating…” You mumbled, turning to move forward, finally hitting the door you were trying to get to and shooting the lock off. You swapped to your sidearm, dropping low as you entered, waiting for Soap to catch up.

“What, we can’t be concerned for our teammate's health?” Soap’s voice came in over the comms, breathless like he’d been running. “We cannae do a ton with you operatin’ at fifty percent, can we?” He slipped in through the door, giving Ghost an indirect thumbs-up as he did.

“Right, because me being a little hungry is so much worse than you dodging bullets at every opportunity you get.” You rolled your eyes, looking at him. “Look at you, you’re covered in scrapes and gashes… Ghost, you got our six while we’re in here?” You asked, poking your head out and looking for the glint of his scope.

It takes him a minute to respond, then a raspy “Yeah, got an eye out.” rung in your ears.

~

“Soap! You done planting those C4 yet? We got to get the fuck outta here!” You shouted, ripping the hard drives and USB sticks from the computers you found, hoping something might be useful beyond what you were sent after. You quickly shoved it all in your pack, running down the hall and dipping into the room he sat in.

“Yeah, lass! Let’s go!” He said, grabbing your arm and dragging you along as fast as possible to get out. At some point, you ended up in a fireman carry over his shoulder, being shaken about as he ran like a bat out of hell. You let it happen, not trying to run when you could barely see straight.

He dropped you on the ground face down, a puff of dirt kicking up around you. You got up on your knees, shrugging your pack off your shoulders, and flopped onto your back, trying to cool your pulse. You were shaking like a leaf. No, you didn’t eat. Before you could fully recover, your pack was snatched off the ground by Soap and you were quickly picked up by Ghost, who carried you much more delicately if not a bit tight— bridal style. The three of you booked it, the sound of trucks rumbling on the dirt path, getting closer with each second.

After an hour of running, the three of you finally settled in a dense patch of woods, taking a moment to breathe. Before you could think, they both shoved energy bars in your face, their expressions mildly annoyed.

“Eat.” Ghost nearly demanded, opening the bar and shoving it in your mouth when you went to protest. “I’m done carryin’ your ass around.” He huffed, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes.

Soap closed his eyes, also leaning against a tree. “Where are we, now? We must’ve missed evac by a mile by now.” He sighed, pulling a satellite GPS out of his bag. “Sorry, two miles.”

You finished eating the bar that Ghost gave you, swallowing the last bite. You took Soaps GPS, fiddling with it for a moment before locking it on a clearing about 4 miles north of you. “We could make our way there, send the coords to Watcher?” You offered, handing it over to him and plucking the other energy bar from his hand.

He showed Ghost the suggested route, shrugging. “Could work.” Ghost only nodded, sighing a bit.

~

The car ride was quiet except for the grumble of the vehicle and the occasional bump making stuff roll across the steel floors. Soap had fallen asleep at some point and was snoring loudly, and you were fighting to stay awake.

“You should sleep.” Ghost's voice broke through the silence, making you jump a little.

“Don’t want to.” You said, looking at what you could see of him. It was dark in the cabin, so all but that creepy mask of his was in shadows. “You’re creepy.”

“So I’ve heard. You gonna fight sleep the whole way or…?” He questioned, turning to look at you. “If you don’t sleep now you won't get any until we get back to base.”

“I’ll sleep when I want to. Are you gonna sleep, or do you have the whole ‘I don’t sleep mehmehmeh’ vibe going on?” You asked, your joke making him huff in amusement.

“I don’t sleep. Not when I’m in the field.” He said, “Just sleep. You’re clearly fighting it, there's no use.” His hand came up to make you lean back to rest. You could only grumble before succumbing to sleep, your head lolling from the back of the seat over to his shoulder, despite the awkward distance between you two.

~~

He watched you as you raked the leaves from your yard into a pile, your focus waning slightly as you hit the same spot for the third time now. Simon went out, taking the rake from your hands and making you take a break.

“Did you eat, sweetheart? You look dizzy.” He asked, making you look up at him. Your eyes were unconcentrated, making him frown. “That’s a no. Go inside, love. I’ll finish up.” He kissed your forehead, sending you on your way.

“Was gonna finish this then do that, but sure, okay.” You grumbled, gently touching the spot where he kissed you. “Are there leftovers from breakfast?”

“Yeah. Go eat those. I’ll be in after a bit.” He called over his shoulder.

You went in and heated up the breakfast you made, taking the plate to the couch and watching him from the window. He’s so kind that you find it hard to believe that he’s a soldier. But then again, it was easy to believe he was a soldier. The scars across his arms and neck and face told all kinds of stories. Not ones you knew, of course, he would never in a million years tell you his tales of war. You were too precious to him, and he feared that you’d fear him instead of love him if you knew the horrors he witnessed and contributed to. But you knew. Even if they were vague hints and words of the ghosts that haunt him. You’d had to ground him from PTSD flashbacks on more than one occasion, and they were never pretty. After each and every one, he’d apologize, hold you close, call you his “pretty girl” and “love of my life”. He’d worry about making you go through that with him, even though you never minded.

You broke out of your trance when he sat his hand on your shoulder, making you turn up to look at him. His cheeks were rosy from the chill of the autumn air, and his hair was messy from his stocking cap. You sat up on the couch, pulling him to eye level and examining his face. You ran your fingers over scars you’d memorized, then found a new one.

“You have a new scar. How’d you get this one?” You asked, knowing you wouldn’t get a straight answer. You ran your fingers over it, bringing him closer to kiss it.

“A battle. Like most of the other scars. Nothin’ you need to worry about” He answered quietly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to fuss over every new scar, you know.”

“Maybe not, but is that going to stop me? No. I need you to know that I love you, even with all your battle wounds.” You hummed, closing your eyes.

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 15

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; none, dottore is mentioned but none of his hideous acts

notes ; WHATS UP SMART FELLAS AND FART SMELLAS ⁉️

I PROMISE IM NOT DEAD,,,, see the thing is that since i published the last chapter of this, i’ve done some crazy things like finishing and graduating highschool and studying and doing national exams and preparing to apply to colleges and yknow….. really normal, totally not time consuming stuff LMAO i can’t promise that i’ll be consistent again as i am still pretty busy with all that bizz but i’m very happy to have finally gotten a new chapter out

ANYWAY ITS MEROPIDE TIME BABEY ‼️ finally get to write my pookie wookie shmookie wriothesley, can u tell that i think he’s neat :3 can u tell that i am brewing up something with him :3 can u :3

also i HAVE OTHER WRITING PROJECTS COMING OUT SOONER OR LATER MORE LATER I PROMISE,,,,, currently cooking up something for whatever dungeon meshi-heads out there that r willing to enjoy it!!!!!

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this line could not be moving slower.

you’ve been standing here for so long— any progress forward is merely two steps further but your legs have long since turned to lead, making each movement arduous and achy. mind hazy and limbs sluggish as you drag your feet through the rusted metal flooring. the most likely cause for your sudden stagnation is the overwhelming pressure from being… however many feet underwater you are, as you haven’t had much time to adapt to that yet.

ironically, it almost makes you regret your decision and you hadn’t even truly gotten inside the fortress of meropide. perhaps this was some sort of intentional psychological warfare towards the new prisoners, some sort of initiation for the upcoming torments of their sentences. even so, you look back on the moment and think it was the best course of action.

you remember the way your heart dropped upon hearing the word ‘guilty’, the way it fell all the way down to your feet and picked its pace back up again, beating a hundred miles per hour. you remember the way you weren’t even given time to say goodbye, to reach out to childe as he rebelled against the guards and was immediately detained by the iudex.

the iudex… you become conflicted at the thought of him. part of your brain tells you that you should be angry and despise him for only letting you visit childe after he was reported to be missing from the fortress, under the guise of inviting you to investigate his disappearance. though… he was so kind about it. you must’ve visited his office nearly everyday to ask for permission to visit the prison, every time being met by the same answer of ‘it’s beyond my capabilities’, but each of them he remained utterly patient and civilized— something that you ashamedly can’t say that you did in return. and even so, he graciously offered to grant you a fake sentence so you could find the harbinger yourself, with the help of the traveler and paimon of course.

there was a certain air to monsieur neuvillette, one of silent melancholy and deep thoughtfulness. your first impression of the iudex had you recalling zhongli as a comparison, but now you’ve grown more certain that they have far more in common. neuvillette is most definitely not human, you’ve long since assessed that, but every time you get a look at his eyes while visiting his office, you notice an almost draconic appearance to them. perhaps that’s why you can’t fully bring yourself to dislike him— he reminds you far too much of you the fond friendship you’ve found within the consultant of wansheng funeral parlor.

there’s a shove to your shoulder that snaps you back into reality and you realize it’s your turn to have your mugshot taken. mugshot… what would your mother think of you now? both her own child and their childhood best friend having criminal records in another country— you can practically feel the pinching of your ear, even if the false charge was something as ridiculous as stealing lady furina’s cake. despite the flash of the kamera making your eyes sting, you do your best to maintain a neutral expression and wonder if the traveler and paimon had already gotten their turn and have long since installed themselves in the fortress. you especially wonder so when you’re left to venture the fortress of meropide alone, with only a room number and no knowledge of the prison’s system to your name.

“hey! you there!”

oh dear heavens, it’s already started— you’ve not stepped foot into prison for one whole minute and you’re already about to become a bullying victim. you swallow thickly and turn around meekly like a cornered rabbit. a particularly grumpy-looking guard is the one who calls you over, expression hard and stoic. you nearly consider begging him to not be mean to you like a cowardly little kid, but he speaks before you even get to open your mouth and spew anything embarrassing.

“you’re y/n, the new inmate, right? the duke wants to see you in his office.”

oh it’s so over for you.

perhaps you haven’t become a punching bag just yet but you’ve sure, somehow, irked the warden enough to be immediately sent to his office. oh gods… is it because you’re fatui? you heard there were quite a few fatui operatives already residing in the fortress of meropide— perhaps the duke has a particular distaste for your kind. the guard half-heartedly shows you the way to the duke’s office, the singular, imposing tower at the center of the fortress.

the silence inside the tower is deafening, the only sound heard is the clang of your steps against the metal stairs, almost as if you’re the only living being inside. the second floor introduces itself through the incredibly faint, almost innate herbal scent that wafts around you more and more the higher steps you climb. finally, it reveals an atmospheric office with bookshelves rounding the walls, a comfortable-looking sofa with a coffee table littered with teacups before it and in the grand center of the room, a wide desk— the last thing you register is the man sitting at it expectantly.

he looks nothing like you expected him to.

by the title of duke, you were picturing an older, posher man adorning expensive fabrics and a distasteful, condescending expression towards the ‘lower lifeforms’ of his prisoners. instead, he’s much younger and rugged, littered with scars, dark tones and sharp edges to his outfit— he almost looks like an inmate himself. despite not appearing necessarily condescending, the duke of meropide is still plentiful imposing, as his icy blue eyes and platform boots send a shiver through your spine when he stands up to greet you. he sticks out a hand and you instinctively flinch away, although the hand only hangs in the air passively awaiting a handshake.

“y/n l/n, prisoner 7458, it’s a pleasure to meet you. welcome to the fortress of meropide.”

oh… his tone is so casual and friendly, it completely takes you aback— like you’re meeting a friend on the street instead of the highest authority of an enormous prison as one of his very own prisoners. you scramble to shake his hand and awkwardly fall into some sort of bowing motion in the midst of you’re panic.

“a-ah yes! thank po you very m-much, your grace.”

with this proximity, you have no choice but to look at the duke’s face up close. he wears an easy smile on his otherwise seemingly hardened face, one that you can’t help but subconsciously think of as handsome. another juxtaposition to your expectations toward the duke is that, despite his rugged and troublesome appearance, he is quite well kept— as seen by his neat peach fuzz. he confuses you entirely.

the duke chuckles amusedly at your entirely perplexed demeanor.

“no need to be so nervous, this is a casual talk that i personally wanted to have with you, rather than a… part of the fortress’ welcoming ceremony. so please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable— i’ll prepare us some tea. oh! and call me wriothesley.”

you do as… wriothesley says and sit on the surprisingly cushy chair in front of his desk as he himself steps off to the side to make the tea. your mind is still running at miles per hour with everything that’s happened and with what might happen next, with what to say or not to say to the duke, with where childe, the traveler and paimon might be right now. not to mention the sickeningly sweet smell that fills your brain even further… this must be some strong tea. wriothesley sets a teacup in front of you and sits at his grand, tall chair behind the desk. he faces you with a bright smile that you force yourself to return, yet you still can’t help but keep the thought of this ‘casual talk’ having other intentions gnaw at the back of your mind.

“so, i won’t dilly-dally with what i’d like to talk about— as you may have noticed, the fortress harbors quite a few inmates from the fatui.” bingo. who knew that your blinded anxieties were actually right.

“all of them arrive here with similar ranks, under similar sentences for similar crimes. standard stuff, really… but this is the very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a sergeant.”

although the duke keeps up an easy-going and lighthearted demeanor, you can’t help but remain on edge. you feel once again like prey cornered by a calculating hound. the smell of the tea still plagues your mind with its unavoidable presence— what’s even worse is that the scent isn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, the memory is just out of your grasp, frustrating you even more.

“and even further, this is our very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a fatui sergeant whose crime was… to steal a cake from lady furina?” wriothesley briefly looks down toward a document on his desk to make sure he’s actually recalling your crime correctly. you barely listen to what he’s saying, still laser focused on recognizing this irking fragrance.

“adding onto that, it seems as though we’re receiving two new inmates today who are arriving on the exact same sentence for the exact same crime as yourself. seems a bit curious, doesn’t it?”

your attention is caught by the mention of the traveler and paimon and you shoot up in your seat.

“oh yes, those are my friends! a-are they okay? have they arrived yet?”

wriothesley is seemingly surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, as he chuckles with certain shock and amusement. he looks at his file once again, eyes trailing over to the two other prisoner registry’s below your own with a certain analytical hint to his gaze.

“i’m certain they’ll be arriving at the fortress shortly. in the meantime, why don’t you tell me how exactly the three of you managed to commit such a heinous crime?” he asks humorously.

wait!

you’ve finally recognized the scent… a lesser known tea leaf from liyue, with no real definitive name for itself— only truly studied within the medical field for being one of the few tea leafs to contain sodium thiopental, a barbiturate that slows the speed of the communication between the spinal cord and the brain, making high-functioning tasks such as lying harder to perform. a truth serum.

wriothesley has served you a truth serum.

so much for a ‘casual talk’. you’ve known the man for not even a full day, yet you still feel a sting of betrayal fermenting in your chest. but truly, what can be done when you’ll always have a big fat target on your back that labels you as nothing more than a fatuus? you’ve chosen this wretched bed, now you must lie in it.

and lie you will.

with a forced laugh, you feign a reminiscent smile. “a-ah, it’s actually quite silly— i believe it goes without mention that my friends and i are foreigners and still wildly foreign to fontainian customs. we were invited to a meeting with lady furina and monsieur neuvillette in the spirit of diplomacy but, ahah… i guess we were unfamiliar with lady furina’s predilection for sweets and just took one for ourselves!”

wriothesley laughs in turn, but you’re unable to discern how genuine it is. you watch his periwinkle eyes flicker briefly toward your untouched teacup and suddenly, the atmosphere turns into one akin to a game of chess— innately hostile and strategic, where both of you must be hyper aware of the other’s next move lest you make a mistake and lose your carefully constructed composure.

“i must say it is an unlikely set of circumstances…”

you subconsciously look toward wriothesley’s own teacup, seeing that his remains as unsipped as yours. with a chilling feeling, you look back up to see that the duke’s gaze was already fixated on you, which means he saw you checking his teacup. which means he knows that you know.

“though, i’ve got to ask… what exactly entails your position in the fatui? this is purely out of my own curiosity, as most of our inmates all come from the house of the hearth.”

you swallow hard.

“well… i’m head of the infirmary, that’s all my position is, really. the sergeant title is just a half-assed justification for how high my ranking is.”

the calculating hint to wriothesley’s gaze softens in the slightest amount possible and he lightly looks off to the side, as if reminded of something, or someone he knows by your answer.

“i work directly under the second fatui harbinger, il dottore. i’m somewhat his… assistant.” the word assistant leaves your mouth with a tinge of disdainfulness as your body almost instinctively tenses at the mention of… him. the duke picks up on it.

“the doctor, huh— haven’t heard much about him myself, but what i have heard seems like more than enough for me.” you can’t help but snort at that.

“do you like it? working for him, that is.”

you’re staggered into silence and a shocked expression— the suddenness of the question completely taking you by surprise. the speechlessness you feel is painfully reminiscent of when kunikuzushi asked you if you’d like to kill dottore. despite the answer being obvious to you, there’s a subconscious fear gnawing at your side that dottore might be out here listening, disguised as someone else or as one of his segments, living a false life. but you can’t allow yourself to live in fear of him anymore— his segments are gone and he’s pathetically stuck in zapolyarny palace by himself while you’ve been out and traveling miles and miles away from snezhnaya. kunikuzushi doesn’t fear him, so why should you?

you’ve always been terrible at bluffing, so fuck it— you might as well not bluff at all.

instead of answering wriothesley immediately, you lunge for the teacup and gulp down the entire thing, much to his surprise. the duke is stunned in return as he merely watches attentively for your reaction to the serum. the silence between the two of you is prolonged as you give the serum time to take effect. the taste itself is a delightful, slight earthy flavor— making it even more enticing to drink normally for one unaware of the leaf’s properties. you don’t feel any different after a few seconds, if not ever so slightly woozier. you breathe in and out deeply, letting the first answer that comes to your mind be the one that comes out.

“i take my job very seriously, your grace— i am a medic, my ambition is to save lives. and there isn’t a soul in teyvat that i would ever want to kill more than i want to kill him.”

the answer feels foreign and unexpected even to yourself. the first time you were asked such a question, before one who was once the balladeer and dottore’s experimental god, your answer was no. it felt easier to say no— to tell him you’d rather he be the one to end the doctor’s reign of terror, because for the most part it was true. but then kunikuzushi found closure, he found new life and prosperity in places outside of godhood or tormenting others or spiting his ‘mother’ or going after dottore.

and you, you stayed the same. you’re still suffocating within the grimy, clawed grasp of the second fatui harbinger. you’ve been through so much, visited four different nations within the span of the last year, fought an abyssal creature and an artificial, nearly god-like being yet you still feel as stuck as you did while you were still stationed in snezhnaya. you’re still stuck having reasons to want to kill dottore, kunikuzushi moved past his.

the duke still can’t find an immediate response, as he merely scoffs incredulously at what he’s just watched. you see a faint glaze take over his gaze when he looks aimlessly down at his desk, as if truly involving himself in memories of the past— his eyebrows furrow briefly, as though the memories he recalls aren’t good ones. something grips at your throat, an anxious feeling, as you regret being so impulsive as to reveal something so damning about yourself. to a prison warden, no less. you feel as though you’ve sobered up and feel the need to make up for what you said and excuse yourself, but before you can even open your mouth wriothesley is already standing from his chair.

“well i respect your honesty, sergeant. i’m afraid we’ll have to leave our talk here, as i have to welcome more of the new prisoners into the fortress, maybe even your friends will be amongst them— i’ll make sure to give them the word that you’re here.”

you nod briskly and scurry to leave the office while the duke insists on seeing you out himself. your head pounds with nervousness, and perhaps slightly with the truth serum tea you just downed all at once— so much so that you almost don’t notice wriothesley’s hand sticking out once again in a polite handshake. much less do you notice the fascinated studying scan of his eyes across your face as your hand meets his.

“and again— welcome to the fortress of meropide, y/n.”

you don’t sleep well on your first night at the fortress.

perhaps it’s due to not being used to the overwhelming pressure of the water, perhaps due to the lack of warmth that your metal surroundings bring, perhaps a side effect of the tea.

or perhaps… it’s because you dream of ajax.

at first, the dream is sweet— drowning in cheesy, tooth-rooting romance tropes dug from the most delusional corners of your brain, ones that you desperately tried to suppress after you got over your phase of reading romance novels as a child. you’re reliving the tension-filled moment inside your hotel bathroom from the other morning, where some mystical force had pulled you and ajax so close together you shared the same breath, getting painstakingly closer still. only this time, instead of getting interrupted by those guards, the scene keeps going… and going… until you truly, finally meet each other in the middle.

within the misty midsts of your slumber, it almost feels real— there’s a shock of electricity when your lips touch, your heart beats faster from even outside the dream, you can nearly feel the warm sigh of satisfaction that ajax lets out from his nose and onto your face. but it still isn’t enough, the tightness in ajax’s desperate grip onto the back of your head and on the small of your back aren’t present enough. the juxtaposition of his fiery warm skin against your own cold one isn’t contrasting enough, your skin doesn’t burn as fiercely as it does when you touch him in the waking world.

and soon enough, the dream shifts… shifts into scenes of ajax inside the fortress. you’re not lucid enough to find the images strange, as you’ve never seen him inside the fortress yet— so you remain stuck, watching as he sneaks past a plethora of guards to reach a decrepit tunnel, overridden with plant-life as it connects out into the fontainian sea. your vision starts to blend incomprehensibly like watercolors on wet paper, until all the remains is a blinding, blue mess and a faint whisper in ajax’s voice:

“something’s… calling me… i… i have to go…”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

and don’t forget to boycott this shitty game!!

[weekendpassrevoked]

Easy's Songbird - Chapter 14 *new*

authors note: for you who have already read the original chapter 14, this is the new version. you can refer to the masterlist on my tumblr to see what is old and new.

please enjoy this monstrosity of a chapter. i hope you all catch a major plot reveal from one of the characters, teehee :3

Fort Benning, Georgia, December 10th, 1942

The days following their historic march had been a blur of recovery and preparation. Isabella's feet, treated with antibiotics and properly bandaged, were finally beginning to heal. Her voice had returned as well, though it still carried a slight rasp that she assured Gene would fade in time.

The respite had been brief but necessary. Colonel Sink had granted the battalion forty-eight hours of complete rest after their arrival, followed by three days of light duty—just enough time for blisters to scab over and muscles to recover from their ordeal.

Isabella sat on her bunk, carefully applying fresh bandages to her healing feet. The barracks at Fort Benning were nearly identical to those at Toccoa, but somehow they felt different. Maybe it was the knowledge that they were one step closer to deployment, or perhaps it was simply the change of scenery after months in one place.

"Looking better," Gene commented as he passed by, medical bag in hand. He'd been making regular rounds through the barracks, checking on the men whose feet had suffered the worst during the march. He had insisted she rest after she had begun following him on his rounds, saying that she had done enough.

"Almost human again," she replied with a small smile.

Gene nodded approvingly. "Good timing. Jump training starts tomorrow."

Isabella felt a flutter of nervous anticipation in her stomach. Five jumps. In three months they would have to show they’re capable of five successful jumps to earn their wings. After everything they'd endured to get here, it was hard to believe they were finally reaching this milestone.

"Mail call!" The shout came from outside, followed by the appearance of a clerk at the barracks door with a stack of letters.

Isabella's name was called several times, and she found herself with a small pile of envelopes—one from her parents, one from Maya, one from Cameron, and surprisingly, one bearing an official War Department seal.

She opened the official letter first, curiosity winning out over her desire for news from home.

“Office of the Secretary of War 

Washington, D.C. 

December 5th, 1942,

To Corporal Isabella M. Vega 

506th Parachute Infantry Regiment 

Fort Benning, Georgia

Subject: Project Blitz Status Report and Authorization

Corporal Vega,

Following extensive observation and review of your performance during training at Camp Toccoa and the subsequent regimental march to Fort Benning, I am pleased to inform you that Project Blitz has been authorized to continue through the next phase of training.

The joint committee formed to evaluate this initiative has determined that you have demonstrated the physical capability, technical proficiency, and psychological fortitude necessary for continued participation in airborne training. Your completion of the 118-mile march was particularly noted as evidence of your ability to endure extreme physical demands alongside male counterparts.

However, the committee has also determined that Project Blitz will not be expanded at this time. You will remain the sole participant in the program until further notice. This decision is not a reflection on your performance, but rather a cautious approach to what remains an experimental initiative.

Upon successful completion of jump training and receipt of your parachutist badge, further evaluation will determine your status for overseas deployment with the 506th Regiment.

The progress of Project Blitz continues to be followed with great interest at the highest levels of the War Department. Your conduct and performance remain under observation.

Respectfully, 

Col. James R. Marshall 

War Department Special Projects Division”

Isabella exhaled slowly, digesting the information. The project would continue—that was the good news. She hadn't failed, hadn't given them any reason to pull her from training. But she would remain alone, the only woman in a combat unit for the foreseeable future.

Part of her had hoped, perhaps naively, that her success might open the door for others. That Sina or other women who would sign up to train would join her. But the War Department was moving cautiously, treating her as the exception rather than the beginning of a trend.

"Bad news?" Gene asked, noticing her expression.

She handed him the letter. "Not bad. Just... lonely."

Gene scanned the contents, his face neutral. When he finished, he passed it back with a slight nod. "They're just covering themselves. You should know best that bureaucrats don't like risk."

"Yeah," she agreed, tucking the letter away. "I just thought maybe..."

"That you wouldn't be the only one anymore," Gene finished for her.

She nodded, unable to articulate the strange mix of pride and isolation she felt. Being the first, the only one, came with a weight she hadn't fully appreciated when she'd signed up.

"Well," Gene said after a moment, "guess you'll just have to be so good they can't ignore the evidence."

Isabella smiled despite herself. "That's the plan."

Turning to the letters from home, she opened Maya's first, eager for news of Anzu and Taiga.

“いさ,

I hope this letter finds you well. We were all so relieved to hear you arrived safely at Fort Benning after your long march. Your father explained to us what an achievement this was, how no American soldiers had done such a thing before. We are all bursting with pride, though I must confess when I think of you walking so far in the cold, my heart aches a little too.

Anzu has started school and loves it beyond measure. Her teacher says she is the quickest learner in the class and has already skipped ahead in reading. She tells everyone her auntie Isa is a soldier who jumps from planes. The other children don't always believe her, but she defends you fiercely!

Taiga is walking now—or perhaps "running" is more accurate. He is into everything, climbing furniture, pulling books from shelves, and generally creating the kind of chaos only a toddler can manage. He has started saying "Isa" when we show him your picture, which makes Anzu very jealous that it was one of his first words.

Things here remain challenging at times. There was an incident at the market last week—someone refused to serve me—but your mother stepped in with such fury that the entire store fell silent. She told them that while her daughter-in-law shopped for her family, her daughter was marching across Georgia to defend their freedom to be ignorant if they chose. No one has troubled me since.

Michel Alejandro writes when he can and our usual phone calls have dwindled, his letters are short and tell us little of what he's actually doing. Reading between the lines, I believe things in the Pacific are very difficult. He asks about you in every letter. I think it comforts him to know you are safe in training rather than already overseas.

I have included another drawing from Anzu. She insists it shows you jumping from a plane, though I think you'll agree the artistic interpretation is... creative.

Be safe, Isa. We all miss you terribly and count the days until you return to us.

With all my love,

Maya (Anzu and Taiga)”

Isabella smiled at the enclosed drawing—a stick figure with long brown hair falling from what appeared to be a blue rectangle, with a massive circle above that was presumably supposed to be a parachute. The stick figure wore an enormous smile and held what looked like a rifle, which amused Isabella given that she wouldn't actually be armed during jumps.

‘Cheeky Anzu’

She carefully folded the letter and drawing, tucking them into her journal for safekeeping before opening Cameron's letter.

“Birdie,

Heard through the grapevine you just marched your ass all the way to Benning. 118 miles? Jesus Christ, Isa. You just love making the rest of us look bad. My CO mentioned it during morning formation, though he conveniently left out that there was a WOMAN involved. Bet that would've shut some of these guys up.

Training here is winding down. We're shipping out soon, probably heading to England from what I can gather. The rumors are flying, but nobody knows anything for sure. Half the guys think we'll be home by Easter, which is obviously bullshit. The other half are convinced we're all going to die the minute we hit the continent. The truth's probably somewhere in between, as usual.

Billy caught pneumonia and got sent to the hospital. They say he'll recover, but he'll miss deployment, which has him more pissed than sick. Jamie's been made a squad leader, which has gone straight to his head. Eli's the same as always—quiet, watchful, steady. You'd like him, I think. Reminds me a bit of your friend Gene from your letters. He likes to stick with me and has become quite useful when I write songs.

Anyway, they're working us hard, getting us ready for whatever's coming. I miss home, but I'm ready for this. Ready to do my part. I know you understand that better than anyone.

Mama mentioned you're starting jump training in her last letter. Try not to break your neck, yeah? I did not drag your ass out of that creek when you were eight just for you to die jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.

Your Lucky Charm, 

Cameron”

Isabella smiled, shaking her head slightly. Cameron's letters always managed to make her feel like he was right there beside her, his voice as clear in her mind as if he were speaking aloud.

She makes a mental note to ask him more about this Eli character. Seeing how much he mentions him in his letters worries her slightly considering Cameron’s…’background’.

‘Best not push if I know what’s best for all of us.’

Setting Cameron's letter aside, she opened the one from her parents, finding her mother's neat handwriting covering several pages.

“Dearest Isabella,

Your father and I were overjoyed to receive your last letter and to hear of your success in the march to Fort Benning. Your father has been telling everyone at church about it, showing the newspaper article that mentioned the 506th's achievement (though it sadly did not name you specifically).

We are well, though the house feels empty without you and the boys. Your father spends more time working these days, I think just to keep his hands busy. I have started teaching art classes at the community center, including a special session for wives and mothers of servicemen. This helps me pass the time without you here. We paint and talk and support each other—it helps to share the worry with others who understand.

Lucas wrote to us recently that he has completed his pilot training and has happily been assigned to a bomber crew, though I’m sure he’s already told you. He says the B-17 is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, which I find slightly concerning given how he used to talk about Marjorie Wilson from down the street. He sent a photograph, which I've enclosed. He looks so handsome in his uniform—you all do. My children, serving their country. I am proud and terrified in equal measure. He states that you should ‘take the pick of the lot’ from the picture. I think he’s desperate to set you up with someone. I’m curious to see who you’d like best as well…”

Isabella pauses, face red from embarrassment.

‘I’m hundreds of miles away from both of them and yet they’re still teasing me. Incredible.’

“Maya and the children are managing as best they can. Your father has been taking Anzu fishing, which she adores. She follows him around the house asking questions about everything, just as you used to do. Sometimes when I see them together, I am reminded so much of you at that age that my heart aches.

We received a very unexpected letter last week—from Colonel Sink! He wrote to tell us how well you are doing and how much you have contributed to your unit. I must say, your father was quite impressed, and I believe they may have begun a correspondence of their own after Colonel Sink sent his first letter back in May. Military men, always finding each other.

I pray for you every day, my darling girl. For your safety, your strength, and your spirit. I know God is watching over you, but a mother's worry never ceases.

Jump safely, write often, and know that you are loved beyond measure.

All my love, 

Mama

P.S. Your father insists I include his note, though I warned him you have more important things to do than read his ramblings about military matters.”

Isabella snorted and turned to the second page, where her father's bold handwriting took over:

“Isabellita,

I won't waste your time with lengthy sentiments—your mother covers that ground thoroughly enough for both of us. I will simply say this: I am proud. More proud than I have words to express.

Colonel Sink's letters are unexpected but deeply appreciated. He speaks highly of your conduct, your capabilities, and your character. From one military man to another, I recognize the weight of such praise—it is not given lightly or without cause.

He mentioned your marksmanship in particular. It seems those Sunday afternoons at the lake when you were a girl were not wasted after all. Though I suspect you won't be carrying a weapon in your medical role, it pleases me to know you could defend yourself if necessary.

Jump training begins soon from what I understand. Trust your instructors, trust your equipment, and above all, trust yourself. The fear never completely disappears—even after hundreds of jumps—but you learn to use it, to let it sharpen your focus rather than dull it.

Your brothers in arms are lucky to have you watching over them. As was I, to have you watching over our home all these years.

Con orgullo, 

Papá”

Isabella felt a lump form in her throat as she finished reading. Her father had never been one for flowery expressions of emotion, making his words all the more powerful. And the fact that Sink had written to them—had taken the time to share her progress with her family—touched her deeply.

She grabs the remaining photo from the inside of the envelope and is faced with a black-and-white replica of Lucas’s crew. Her heart fills with pride at his wide smile. Personally, she couldn’t be happier that he had managed to achieve his dreams and she couldn’t be more grateful to him for being the one to push her to sign up. Without him, she wouldn’t be here. 

Scanning over the picture, she sees a tall handsome man standing to Lucas’s left and her eyebrows shoot up.

‘Jesus Christ they’re fucking identical!’

Turning the photo over, she spotted Lucas’s messy scrawl labeling the names:

"Lucas ‘Ace’ Smith – Front row, second from right."

"Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven – Left of me.”

She glanced at the others, scanning the names.

"John “Bucky” Egan – Right of me. You two would probably get along too well."

"Harry Crosby – Back row, left side. Resident navigator and professional worrier."

"Robert ‘Rosie’ Rosenthal – Back row, right side. Only guy who actually enjoys flying into enemy fire."

Isabella snorted.

Classic Lucas. Of course he’d befriend a guy who flies toward bullets for fun.

She studied the men in the picture again, narrowing her eyes as she took them in one by one.

Lucas? Obviously an idiot.

Cleven? Good-looking. But way too similar to Lucas for her comfort.

Egan? Trouble. She could already tell. That cocky smirk? The relaxed stance? Yeah, definitely a problem.

Crosby? He looked like he was constantly thinking about five different worst-case scenarios at once. She felt like she’d like him.

Rosenthal? Handsome, but crazy. She could see it in his eyes.

A sigh left her lips, exasperated but fond.

‘Lucas, you absolute menace.’

Because of course he’d surround himself with a bunch of men who probably caused mayhem wherever they went.

She rubbed her temples, sighing again.

At this rate, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to write them back or throttle Lucas to death.

Her moment of reflection was interrupted by the sound of boots approaching. She looked up to find Lieutenant Winters standing in the doorway of the barracks.

"Corporal Vega," he greeted with a nod. "Captain Sobel would like to see you in his office."

Isabella felt a flicker of concern. Summons from Sobel rarely brought good news. "Yes, sir. Right away."

She quickly tucked her letters into her footlocker and followed Winters across the base to the administrative building where the officers had their quarters and offices.

"Any idea what this is about, sir?" she asked as they walked.

Winters shook his head slightly. "You know Captain Sobel keeps his own counsel, Corporal." After a pause, he added, "But he received a report from the War Department this morning."

That didn't exactly ease her mind.

When they arrived at Sobel's office, Winters knocked sharply on the door.

"Enter," came the clipped response.

Winters opened the door, ushering Isabella in before him. "Corporal Vega reporting as ordered, sir."

Sobel sat behind his desk, several papers spread before him. He looked up, his expression unreadable as always.

"That will be all, Lieutenant," he said, dismissing Winters with a wave of his hand.

Winters hesitated for just a moment, glancing at Isabella before nodding. "Sir." He departed, closing the door behind him.

Isabella stood at attention, waiting. Sobel studied her for an uncomfortably long moment before speaking.

"At ease, Corporal."

She shifted to parade rest, eyes fixed forward.

Sobel picked up a document from his desk. "I've received the War Department's assessment of Project Blitz following the march to Benning." He paused, as if expecting her to respond.

"Yes, sir," she said when it became clear he was waiting.

"They've authorized your continued participation through jump training." He set the paper down, leaning back slightly in his chair. "They specifically noted your performance during the march."

Isabella remained silent, unsure where this was headed.

"Lieutenant Winters also included a note in his report about your…contributions to company morale."

She felt a flicker of unease. Was he about to reprimand her for singing during the march?

Sobel's expression remained inscrutable. "While I do not typically endorse such... unconventional approaches, I cannot deny the results. Easy Company maintained the highest completion rate of any company in the battalion during the march."

It took every ounce of Isabella's military bearing not to let her surprise show on her face. Was this... praise? From Sobel?

"Thank you, sir," she strangled out, completely out of her depth. 

‘There is no way in hell this man is complimenting me right now.’

"Don't misunderstand me, Corporal," Sobel continued, his tone sharpening. "I still believe Project Blitz is an unnecessary distraction from our primary mission. The battlefield is no place for women, regardless of individual capabilities."

Ah, there it was. The familiar Sobel.

"However," he continued, "as long as the War Department insists on continuing this experiment, I will ensure that you receive the same training—and the same scrutiny—as every other soldier under my command."

"Yes, sir."

Sobel stood, walking around his desk to stand directly in front of her. "Jump training begins at 0600 tomorrow. You’ll complete the five jumps to earn your wings with the rest of the company. The standards will not be lowered, the requirements will not be altered, and there will be no special accommodations."

"I wouldn't expect any, sir."

He studied her for a moment longer, then gave a curt nod. "That's all, Corporal. Dismissed."

"Sir." Isabella saluted, turned on her heel, and exited the office.

Outside, she found Winters waiting, his expression mildly curious. "Everything alright, Corporal?"

She nodded, still processing the strange encounter. "Yes, sir. I think Captain Sobel just... complimented me. Sort of."

Winters' eyebrows rose slightly. "Did he now?"

"In his own way," she clarified. "He acknowledged that Easy Company performed well during the march."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Winters' mouth. "High praise indeed."

As they walked back toward the barracks, Isabella's mind turned to the challenge ahead. Five jumps. Five leaps into empty air, with nothing but a pack of silk between her and a very hard landing. After the road they'd traveled to get here—both literally and figuratively—this was the final hurdle before they could truly call themselves paratroopers.

"Nervous?" Winters asked, seeming to read her thoughts.

Isabella considered the question carefully. "Yes, sir," she admitted. "But ready, too."

Winters nodded approvingly. "That's the right attitude, Vega. A little fear keeps you sharp." He paused, then added, "The men are looking to you, you know. After the march, after seeing what you're capable of... you've earned their respect. They'll be watching to see how you handle the jumps."

The weight of those words settled on her shoulders, heavy but not unwelcome. She had proven herself during the march, and had shown that she belonged among them. Now she just had to prove it again, in the air this time.

"I understand."

When they reached the barracks, Winters left her with a nod and continued on toward the officers' quarters. Inside, Isabella found the men engaged in their usual pre-training rituals—checking equipment, sharing rumors about what to expect, boasting about their lack of fear while simultaneously betraying their nervousness in a hundred small ways.

"There she is," Luz called when he spotted her. "What did Sobel want? To congratulate you on your lovely singing voice?"

Isabella snorted, dropping onto her bunk. "Not exactly."

"Let me guess," Liebgott drawled. "He reminded you that paratroopers don't sing."

"Actually," she said, still somewhat bemused by the encounter, "he acknowledged that Easy had the highest completion rate during the march. And that my 'contributions' might have had something to do with it."

This was met with stunned silence.

"Holy shit," Skip finally said. "Did Hell freeze over while we were marching?"

"Maybe Sobel's been replaced by an impostor," Penkala suggested, only half-joking.

"Or maybe," Gene said quietly from his spot nearby, "even Sobel can't argue with results."

Isabella shrugged, leaning back against her pillow. "Either way, it doesn't change anything. Jump training starts tomorrow, same for all of us."

The mention of jump training seemed to refocus the men, their banter turning to speculation about what they'd face the next day.

"I heard they make you stand in the door for like five minutes before they let you jump," Malarkey said, eyes wide. "Just to see if you'll panic."

"That's bullshit," Guarnere dismissed. "They don't have time for that kind of crap. It's in, out, down. Simple as that."

"My cousin did jump training last year," Penkala chimed in. "Said the hardest part is remembering to count while you're falling. If you don't count right, you don't know when to expect the chute to open, and you can panic."

"One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand," Skip recited, mimicking the jump cadence they'd been taught in ground training. "And if you hit 'five thousand' without feeling that jerk, you're probably about to become a Penkala-shaped hole in the ground."

"Very funny," Penkala muttered.

Isabella listened to their chatter, feeling the same mix of anticipation and nerves they all were experiencing. Five jumps. Five chances to prove herself. Five steps closer to becoming a true paratrooper.

As night fell and the barracks gradually quieted, she found herself unable to sleep. Her mind kept replaying the day's events—the letters from home, Sobel's reluctant acknowledgment, Winters' words about the men looking to her. So much had changed since she'd first arrived at Toccoa, since that first night in a barracks full of men who'd viewed her with everything from curiosity to outright hostility.

Now, somehow, she had found her place among them. Had earned their respect not just as a medic, but as a soldier, a comrade, one of them.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to fail or succeed. But for tonight, for this moment, Isabella allowed herself to feel a quiet pride in how far she'd come.

Five jumps to go.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jump training was not as hard as she had imagined. Not by a long shot. 

Easy Company had lucked out compared to the rest of the battalion. Since they were so physically fit they had been allowed to completely skip over the physical training portion of jump training (much to everyone's relief.)

The first couple of weeks were very familiar; mock door drills, parachute landing falls, and mock airplane exits. All things they had started covering at Toccoa. By the time mid-January hit they began covering new things; the 250 foot tower and combat equipment training. 

Isabella found the full equipment jumps the hardest. While she had the advantage of not having a rifle while jumping, she instead was subject to ridiculous amounts of medical supplies weighing her down. She consistently had the wind knocked out of her and she had begun waking up with large purple bruises on her body. 

Now, Isabella wasn’t unfamiliar with her body being covered in scrapes and bruises. She had been a very active child growing up and the farm didn’t help with this. Her favorite injury was when one of the donkey’s bit her behind and she had to explain to her mother some days later after she had seen her changing that ‘No mom, I did not have a sexual escapade. My ass got bit by an ass.’ Despite this, Isabella was starting to worry about the significant amount of dark splotches on her body and the men were starting to notice too.

Initially, she brushed off their concern with a smirk and a quip. "You boys jealous? Looks like I'm the only one around here tough enough to take a real beating." But despite her bravado, she had quietly started padding certain areas with extra fabric and bandages. Her ribs protested with every deep breath, and each hard landing made her bite down on curses she usually shouted without hesitation.

It hurt. A lot.

It wasn't until the 250-foot tower that Isabella truly felt the sting of dread. She had watched countless others suspended helplessly in the harness, waiting for that merciless snap of the cable releasing them into open air. But being strapped in herself, high above the earth, Isabella felt her heart stutter in her chest.

She dangled, suspended, staring straight ahead into the vast emptiness. She clenched her fists, swallowing back the lump forming in her throat. “Perfect. Just perfect,” she muttered shakily. “Just what I always wanted—to be a human yo-yo.”

“Ready?” came the instructor’s taunting voice from far below.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Isabella shot back, though the bravado in her voice felt thin even to her own ears.

‘Liar’

When the latch released, she dropped sharply, her stomach leaping into her throat, pulse hammering wildly. For a fraction of a second, panic overwhelmed her—but then the harness caught smoothly, swinging her into a controlled glide. A startled laugh escaped her lips, caught somewhere between relief and exhilaration.

"Okay," she admitted breathlessly once her feet hit solid ground again, "that wasn't... totally awful."

The men erupted into a hearty cheer, and Luz slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her off balance. "See, Birdie? Nothing to it!"

She glared up at the tower, heart still racing. "Sure. If falling to your near-death counts as 'nothing,' Luz."

It’s during this time Isabella also finds herself running into a certain Dog Company lieutenant more than usual. 

One day, Isabella was resting against a large pine tree, a habit she found herself doing quite often since their arrival at Benning. As she enjoys the warm sun through the leaves, she feels a presence besides her. The presence doesn’t speak and she doesn’t open her eyes, the both of them still. 

Curiously, she finally props an eye open and finds herself faced with Lieutenant Speirs. Usually, she would stand up and greet him accordingly, but it was Sunday and her day off and she just couldn’t find it in herself to actually care.

Sighing, she finally makes the first move. “Sir.”

Speirs answers her blatantly, humor shining through what should’ve been actual concern. “You dying, Vega?”

She smirked sleepily. “Nope. Just thinking.”

Speirs raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

“Mhm!”

“What’s got you thinking so hard?”

She closes her eyes again, in a teasing mood. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Silence stretches until she cracks an eye open again, looking up at him. “If you sit with me, I’ll tell you.”

Much to her surprise, he seems to consider her offer.  “Really?”

She nodded, tapping the empty patch of grass beside her. “Yup. But only if you sit.”

He lowers himself onto the grass beside her, arms resting on his knees as he glances over.

“Well?” he prompted. “I’m here.”

She grins triumphantly. “Good. Now I gotta come up with something worth sharing.”

Speirs scoffed. “You mean you didn’t have anything in mind?”

She hummed, stretching her arms behind her head. “Nope!”

He shook his head, smirking. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Well, think of it this way sir. At least now you have changed your routine!”

"You always sit out here like this?" he asked.

She hummed, tipping her head back slightly. "Only when I can get away with it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You trying to go AWOL, Vega?"

She laughed softly. "Nah, sir. Just takin’ advantage of the quiet."

“I’m surprised you don’t have that journal with you.”

She snorts. “Who says I don’t?”

His brow quirks. “I think you owe me a look considering you tricked me into sitting with you.”

Surprised, her face flushes. She lets out a breathy laugh, unsure of the strange feeling in her chest. 

"Oh, that's how we're playing this?"

Speirs smirked, arms still resting loosely over his knees. "Fair's fair, Vega."

Huffing, she tilted her head at him in mock thoughtfulness. "So, let me get this straight—you think me convincing you to take a break means I owe you somethin'?"

He nodded once, completely unfazed.

She groaned, running a hand over her face before pointing at him. "Just because you’re curious about my journal doesn't mean you get to see it."

His smirk widened slightly. "That so?"

"Yes, sir. That is so." She crossed her arms, grinning now, her initial flustered reaction disappearing just as quickly as it came. "Some things should remain a mystery."

Speirs tilted his head. "You always this secretive?"

"You always this nosy?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Only when something's worth knowing."

And with that, Isabella found herself a new friend in her journey to the war. Quite an unexpected one at that. Their conversation had continued with them playing a crude version of twenty questions, trying to learn more about each other in order for Speirs to somehow get a glimpse of her journal.

She finds it funny that everyone wanted to see it; Winters, Nixon, Second Platoon, and now Speirs.

‘Weirdos.’

As their mock training continued and time trailed on, her birthday slowly but surely crept up. Isabella is not proud to admit it, but she had completely forgotten about it.

Back home, birthday’s weren’t a major event. Mama, Maya, and herself would make a cake (Anzu too once she came into the picture), and the whole family would sneak into your room at the time you were born and wake you up by singing happy birthday. They’d hand the gifts to whoever was a year older, be it a card or something they had saved up to buy, and then the day would go by and they would go out to a restaurant of the birthday-person's choice for dinner and that would be it. The kids and Cameron specifically liked this tradition the most since they were, in her opinion, the least mature in the family. 

While she enjoyed it when she was a child, the spectacle had begun to lose its shine as she grew and Isabella had begun to think of her birthday as any other day. Usual traditions like quinceañeras and sweet sixteens hadn’t been done at her insistence because she didn’t want the family spending so much on something so materialistic, instead asking for the money they would have used to be given to her. 

The last good birthday Isabella remembers, is funnily enough, her seventeenth. The day before she left her family behind for Toccoa. Not because she was leaving but because it had marked a new chapter in her life that irrefutably turned her into a better person.  

The week of February 24th had arrived and Isabella had noticed the platoon acting strangely around her; which said a lot considering they were strange already. As the days rolled along, the men got jumpier and much more fidgety when she approached their bunks, like they didn’t want her around. 

Frankly, it stung.

She finally confronted Liebgott after catching him whispering conspiratorially with Luz and Gene behind the barracks. "Alright, spill. What the hell is going on? You two are acting like teenagers plotting a prank."

Luz sputtered, looking at Gene for help, who quickly found something fascinating about the ground.

"Absolutely nothing," Gene murmured, kicking dirt awkwardly.

Isabella narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You three are terrible liars, you know."

She didn't press further, deciding she probably didn't want to know anyway.

It wasn’t until the morning of the 24th that she realized why they were acting like that.

She slept snuggly in her bed, Teddy wrapped tightly in her arms. Her dreams were comfortably vague, drifting somewhere between the farm fields of home and the Georgia skies she'd come to know so intimately.

A muffled voice hissed softly somewhere near her bunk. "Alright, on three, guys."

She frowned slightly, still half asleep, wondering distantly if she was still dreaming.

"One... two..."

Her eyes fluttered open just in time for—

"THREE!"

An off-key but enthusiastic chorus of voices erupted into "Happy Birthday," startling Isabella upright. She clutched Teddy to her chest protectively, staring wide-eyed at the grinning, slightly guilty-looking faces of Luz, Liebgott, Gene, Skip, and most of the platoon crowding around her bed.

"What the hell—" Isabella started, her voice raspy from sleep and confusion. But before she could finish her protest, Luz proudly presented her with a hastily wrapped gift made from old newspapers.

"Happy birthday, Doc," Luz announced cheerfully, thrusting the badly wrapped parcel into her hands.

She stared at the gift, bewildered, and then back up at the men. "How'd you—?"

"Figured someone had to remember, right?" Gene muttered softly, rubbing the back of his neck, a shy grin tugging at his mouth.

Isabella's surprise slowly melted into a gentle warmth as she tore away the newspaper wrapping. Inside, she found a makeshift card with "Happy Birthday Doc Birdie!" scrawled across the front. Opening it, Isabella found notes from the men—silly stories, happy memories they'd shared, each note making her smile wider.

As she read, her bed dipped slightly. Looking up, she found Liebgott beside her, holding a smaller box.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Since it's your eighteenth and all, we thought you deserved something special."

Isabella took the box gently, watching the platoon's anxious faces. "You guys are unbelievable," she murmured softly, heart swelling with warmth.

"Just open it already," Liebgott said impatiently, nudging her lightly.

She laughed softly, shaking her head, feeling unexpectedly emotional. Closing her eyes briefly, Isabella opened the box.

Inside, she finds a silver necklace with a small red bird charm hanging in the middle. Her eyes fill with tears as she carefully removes the necklace from its box, overwhelmed. 

“Oh, you guys…” Isabella whispered, voice tight with emotion as she gently cradled the delicate necklace. The little red bird shimmered softly in the early morning sunlight filtering through the barracks window.

“It's a bird. You know, 'cause you're our Birdie,” Luz offered, grinning sheepishly as if the joke needed explaining.

Isabella laughed softly through her tears, wiping them away quickly. “I got that part, Luz.”

“Well, put it on already!” Malarkey encouraged, nudging her lightly in the shoulder. “We wanna see how it looks.”

Gene stepped forward shyly, holding out his hand. “Here, let me help.”

She handed him the necklace, and with surprising care for his large hands, Gene gently clasped it around her neck. Stepping back, he offered her a small, proud smile. “Suits you, Doc.”

She touched the little bird gently, eyes meeting those of her platoon. “Thank you. Really.”

Liebgott coughed awkwardly, trying to hide the redness of his ears. “Alright, enough of the mushy stuff. Now, who's ready for breakfast?”

A laugh rippled through the men, breaking the tender moment and returning the barracks to their usual comfortable chaos.

But as Isabella stood and joined her friends, fingers still brushing the small charm at her throat, she realized just how much this little bird—and these strange, infuriating, wonderful men—meant to her.

At breakfast, she’s given well wishes by Winters and Nixon who, much to her surprise, had also remembered her birthday.

“How’s it feel to be eighteen, kid?” Nixon asked lightly, sipping his coffee with a teasing grin.

Isabella shrugged, poking at her breakfast with a smirk. “Honestly? Exactly the same as seventeen.”

Winters chuckled quietly, eyes kind as always. “Enjoy it, Doc. You'll wish you were eighteen again someday.”

Nixon scoffed good-naturedly. “Speak for yourself, Dick. Personally, I wouldn’t relive eighteen if you paid me.”

Isabella giggled, happy beyond belief.

After breakfast, Isabella was leaving the mess hall when she heard a familiar voice behind her, firm yet unmistakably warm.

"Corporal Vega."

She turned quickly, posture immediately straightening. "Colonel Sink, sir."

Sink approached her with his usual quiet authority, though there was a hint of amusement lingering in his steady gaze.

"Eighteen today, isn't it?" he asked knowingly. Isabella blinked in surprise. "Seems like only yesterday you arrived at Toccoa. You've come a long way in a year."

Warmth bloomed in her chest at his words. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "There's something for you at headquarters. Looks like your family didn't forget either."

Her eyes widened, excitement sparking within her. "Thank you, sir. I'll go right away."

Sink smiled faintly, dismissing her with a casual wave. Isabella turned quickly, practically jogging to headquarters in her eagerness.

When she returned to her bunk, the package rested in her hands—her mother's familiar handwriting scrawled neatly across the box.

“What is it, Birdie?” Luz asked, curiously looking over from his bunk.

“It’s a package from home!” she replied eagerly.

Many of the men crowded around, equally curious to see what her family had sent.

Carefully unwrapping it, she revealed a stack of letters bound neatly together, Each envelope was carefully labeled in handwriting she instantly recognized: Mama’s looping letters, Cameron’s dramatic calligraphy, Lucas’s messy scrawl, Sina’s flowing print, and Darren’s distinctive print. Beneath the letters, tucked safely within packing paper, lay gifts that made her heart swell.

Art supplies—pencils, a fresh set of charcoal sticks, colorful pastels—things they knew she loved but hadn't been able to enjoy since she left home. Next to these were two books she'd mentioned wanting to read, their covers worn gently from handling, likely passed down or carefully found second-hand. Nestled securely at the bottom was a small tin filled with homemade cookies, slightly misshapen and crumbled but smelling wonderfully of home.

Lastly, a delicate velvet pouch, a tiny paper bag, and a tin with a red bow caught her attention. Inside, a pair of beautiful earrings gleamed up at her. Isabella carefully lifted the earrings from their pouch, breath catching softly. They were delicate porcelain studs, rimmed with intricate gold filigree, each one painted with a tiny, gentle pink rose. She immediately recognized them—they looked just like the ones Mama wore on special occasions, a pair she had admired since childhood. Her throat tightened at the thoughtfulness behind such a simple, beautiful gift.

Tearfully, she unwraps the red bow from the tin, opening. Cosmetics—a small bowl of cream rouge, pink and red lipstick, and eyeshadow. Sina’s doing, undoubtedly; she always teased Isabella about not indulging enough in simple pleasures. Isabella couldn’t imagine how much it must’ve cost her to buy.

She peeks into the paper bag, already knowing what was inside. A light pink omamori from Maya. She gave her one every year and yet it never failed to have her beam with joy. She decided against taking it out of the bag, not wanting the men to ask questions.

“Jesus Birdie, they sent you a whole store.” Liebgott exclaimed, sitting on the ground next to her bunk.

She laughs, still overwhelmed at the gifts. “It’s not a whole store, Lieb. Quit being dramatic.”

Carefully, she puts everything back and grabs the stack of envelopes, eager to read them.

“Alright boys, should I read my letters in order to satisfy your curiosity or should I let you suffer in your boredom?” Isabella said cheekily. 

“Don’t be mean, Birdie!” Malarkey shouted. “We’ve been so nice to you!”

“It’s my birthday,” she started. “I can be as mean as I wanna.”

Taking pity on them, she opens the first letter, ready to read it aloud. Cameron’s.

“Dear Birdie,

Happy eighteenth! Can't believe my big sister is officially an adult now. Though let's be honest—you've been more mature than the rest of us since forever. Still, it's a milestone worth celebrating, so consider this letter my official toast to you. Sorry I can't be there to sing off-key and steal icing from your cake like usual.

The boys send you their regards. Billy especially. He’s quite upset he can’t sign off on the letter since he’s stuck in the hospital but at least the thought counts. Billy says that I've told him so much about you that he feels like he knows you already. I think the two of you would get along wonderfully if you ever get to meet.

Jamie has gotten into another fight (unsurprisingly).  He got into another fight last week defending some new kid who was getting hassled. Got a black eye and busted knuckles for his trouble, but the kid's now following him around like a lost puppy. His recent promotion to squad leader has him strutting around like a peacock—we can barely fit his head through doorways. 

In regards to your last letter, I would like to answer truthfully about Eli. Yes. But, I want to assure you that I will not act upon these feelings. Your worry is unwarranted and I want you to breathe easy. No one knows.

So there it is—eighteen years. Who would've thought that scrawny little girl who used to boss me around would grow up to be making history? I'm proud of you, Isa. More than I can say in a letter.

Try not to do anything I wouldn't do. (Which, let's be honest, leaves your options pretty open.)

Please enjoy the picture. I can’t let Lucas outshine me. Let me know how your birthday went, I can’t wait to hear it.

Your Lucky Charm and his gang of miscreants, 

Cameron, Billy, Jamie, and Eli

(P.S You better send your own picture. Unfair you get to see all of us and we have to stay guessing!)”

The men laugh as she reads, always open to hearing what sarcasm Cameron has in store in his letters. Isabella makes sure to jump over the part about Eli. They don’t need to know about any of that.

She carefully lifted Cameron’s photo, smiling brightly at the image. Cameron stood proudly at the center, his familiar cheeky grin brighter than ever, flanked by Billy, Eli, and Jamie. Each of the boys wore their uniforms proudly, their arms slung over each other's shoulders. Isabella felt a rush of affection at seeing their camaraderie captured so vividly—exactly as Cameron had described.

"That's your little brother?" Luz asked curiously, peering over her shoulder. "Looks like trouble runs in the family."

"Oh, you have no idea," Isabella laughed. "Trouble practically follows Cameron wherever he goes."

She carefully set aside Cameron’s letter and opened Lucas’s next.

“Hiya Birdie!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE SISTER!

Eighteen! A real adult now, though between you and me, you've been the most grown-up of all of us for years. Hope you're celebrating properly, even if it's just stealing an extra dessert from the mess hall. Remember how we used to sneak those extra slices of Mama's cake on birthdays? Good times.

Life in the wild blue yonder is just as crazy as you'd expect. Since my last letter, we have been sent to England (as you can see from the return address) and we’ve begun doing our part for the war. The 100th Bomb Group, aka 'The Bloody Hundredth.' Cheerful name, right? But honestly, I couldn't have landed with a better bunch of lunatics.

Bucky is as insufferable as usual, constantly asking if you’re single despite my threats of turning him into a bloody pulp. I told him you'd eat him alive. He said, and I quote, 'Sounds like my kind of gal.' Consider yourself warned.

Buck (God bless him) has been running behind Bucky like a headless chicken trying to keep him in line. He's the most level-headed sonofabitch I've ever met. Reminds me of Michel Alejandro, honestly—calm under pressure, voice never raises, but when he gives an order, you jump to it without thinking. He's got this way of looking at you that makes you feel like he can see right through all your bullshit. You two would get along like a house on fire.

Crosby honestly worries me, the man cannot catch a break. I've appointed myself his unofficial therapist, which means I listen to him catastrophize for hours, then tell him to take a deep breath and have a drink. Total brainiac. I think him and Michel Alejandro would probably get along best, they’ve both got that ‘I’m super smart but instead of helping me it makes me go nuts’ kind of thing going on.

I need you to talk some sense into Rosie because this man is a Harvard Law graduate who could be making a fortune back home, but instead chooses to fly straight into flak because, and these are his exact words, 'It seemed like the right thing to do.’ He’s fucking nuts and doesn’t believe me. Terrifies me, if I'm being honest. But if anyone's going to get us through this war in one piece, it's Rosie. He’s just as batshit as you considering you’re willing to jump out of a moving plane but that’s a you thing.

They all send their birthday wishes, by the way. They've heard so much about you they feel like they know you. Bucky says to tell you he's saving you a dance when we all get home. (I told him not to hold his breath.) Buck says happy birthday, and that any sister of mine must have the patience of a saint. Harry calculated the exact odds of our respective deployments crossing paths (depressingly low), and Rosie just smiled that calm smile of his and said he hopes your birthday brings you joy in the midst of all this chaos.

I hope you enjoyed the picture I sent to Mama, your reply has yet to show up if you’ve sent one. You can do whatever you want with it, although knowing you you’d probably burn it in a fire considering why I sent it. 

I wish I could be there to celebrate with you properly. Remember your sixteenth, when we snuck out to that dance hall and I pretended to be your chaperone? Then spent the whole night teaching you to jitterbug while scaring off any boy who came within ten feet of you? Good times.

You're making history, Isa. First woman paratrooper. When this is all over, they'll be writing books about you. Just make sure they get all the good parts right, okay?

Stay safe up there in the sky. That's my territory, you know? So mind the weather and don't forget to enjoy the view on the way down.

With all my love and pride, 

Your favorite Ace,

Lucas.’

P.S. By the way, the boys are taking bets on which one of them you'd like best based on the photo. Bucky's sure it's him because of his 'devilish charm.' If you write back, please tell me it's Harry just to watch Bucky's ego deflate a bit. I'll split my winnings with you."

The platoon erupted in laughter, clearly entertained by Lucas's vivid descriptions of his crewmates.

"Your brother sure knows how to pick 'em," Malarkey laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Sounds like he's having fun up there."

"Too much fun," Isabella said fondly, shaking her head. "It's worrying, actually."

"Which one’s Lucas in that picture you showed us before?" Luz asked curiously. "The smug-looking blond one in the middle?"

"That's him," Isabella chuckled, rolling her eyes. "He's always been a little too confident for his own good."

She placed Lucas’s letter gently aside and picked up Sina’s next, recognizing her familiar neat script immediately. Carefully opening it, Isabella began to read aloud once more:

"My dearest Isabellita,

Happy 18th birthday, mi querida! I can hardly believe my little friend is officially an adult now. It seems like just yesterday we were playing with your dolls on your front porch, and now you're jumping out of airplanes and making history. If someone had told me then that my sweet, quiet Isabella would become the first woman paratrooper, I might have laughed—but now? Now I know there's nothing you can't do.

New York is still as overwhelming and wonderful as when I first arrived. The WAVES keep us busy from dawn till dusk, but I've found a family here among the chaos. I wish you could meet them all! They've heard so much about you they feel like they know you already.

As you know, Maggie has been teaching me to be more... assertive, shall we say? Last week she convinced me to sneak out past curfew to see a jazz band. We almost got caught, and while I was having heart palpitations, she just winked at the MP and somehow talked our way out of trouble. You'd either love her immediately or be thoroughly scandalized—perhaps both! She's the one who picked out the cosmetics for you. She insists every woman should have "war paint" for special occasions, even if that occasion is just making it through another day.

Helen reminds me so much of you sometimes—that quiet strength, always putting others first. She's the one who helped me find those books for you; her brother owns a bookshop and sent them when she asked. She wants me to tell you that she’s so excited to hear about what you’re doing! I think she enjoys knowing that things might change for women in the near future but I also think she gets a kick out of worrying for people she hasn’t met yet.

As you might recall, Tess is brilliant with numbers—they have her working in code-breaking now, though of course she can't tell us details. She stayed up three nights in a row helping me craft the perfect birthday card for you, insisting that "our paratrooper sister deserves the best." She says that if you ever have any problems with your math studies then you’re more than welcome to ask her via letter.

They all send their love and birthday wishes, by the way. Maggie says any woman brave enough to jump out of planes deserves at least a proper lipstick. Helen packed the cookies herself (though I can't promise they survived the journey intact). And Tess included a little note in Spanish—just between you two. They insisted on sending a photo of us out in the town after Mama told us about Lucas’s…friend exposition.

I miss you terribly, Isabellita. Sometimes at night I look out at the New York skyline and wonder if you're looking at the same stars, wherever you are. Are you scared about the jumps? I would be terrified, but I know you—your quiet courage has always been your greatest strength. You never needed to be loud to be brave.

I hear rumors sometimes, whispers about where they might send us once training is complete. The war seems to be shifting, though details are scarce. Whatever happens, whatever oceans separate us, know that you're always in my heart.

I hope your birthday brings you a moment of joy amidst all the chaos. I hope your fellow soldiers celebrate you properly. And I hope, more than anything, that this time next year we'll be celebrating together again, this horrible war nothing but a memory.

Until then, I remain, as always, Your loving friend, 

Sina Navarro

P.S. Darren sends his love too. His letters are rare these days, but he mentioned he's sent something separately for your birthday. Has it arrived yet? He's as mysterious as ever about his Marine training, but he did say, and I quote, "At least Isa's got proper equipment. They're sending us to the Pacific with rifles older than our grandfathers." Classic Darren, always the optimist!

P.P.S. Have you met anyone special yet? Maggie insists I ask. She says wartime romances are the most passionate. (I told her you're too sensible for such things, but she just winked and said, "The quiet ones always surprise you." Whatever that means!)"

Isabella rolled her eyes, setting Sina’s letter aside with care before reaching for the enclosed photograph. Sina stood confidently in the middle of the group, her dark hair elegantly styled, a bright smile on her face. Maggie leaned casually on her shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischief, while Helen stood with quiet pride beside them. Tess, clearly the shortest of the bunch, was mid-laugh, caught in a candid moment, her joy unmistakable. Isabella felt a pang of longing—these women had become Sina’s family, much like Easy Company had become hers.

“Oooh let us take a peek Birdie!” Luz cries, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She pushes him off, huffing. “I am not going to let you try to get with these girls, Luz!”

“Come on, Birdie!” Luz pouted dramatically. “I promise I’ll be respectful.”

Malarkey snorted. “That's funny.”

Isabella shot Luz a pointed look, holding the photo protectively to her chest. “Absolutely not. Knowing you, you’d fall in love with all of them at once.”

“Worth a shot,” Luz said with a defeated sigh, raising his hands innocently. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Oh, I definitely can,” Isabella teased, carefully tucking Sina’s photograph back into its envelope before picking up Darren’s letter next. The platoon leaned forward eagerly, ready for whatever entertaining commentary would surely follow.

"Isabella,

Happy birthday. Eighteen. Official adult now. Congratulations.

Sorry for the brevity and the messy handwriting. Writing this from a foxhole in Guadalcanal. Not exactly the Ritz.

They don't tell you about the rain in the Pacific. Or the mud. Or the smell. Or how every goddamn thing that crawls or flies seems determined to either bite you or give you some new disease. But I'm alive. I think living in Florida in such similar conditions has somehow prepared me for whatever the hell this is.

Made some connections in my unit. Not friends exactly—not sure that's what you call people you might die alongside. But something close.

There's Leckie—Robert Leckie. Everyone calls him Lucky or Peaches. Writer type, always scribbling in a journal when he's not bitching about something. Smart as hell, reads poetry, quotes stuff none of us understand. You'd probably like him. He reminds me of you sometimes—way too thoughtful for his own good. Writes letters to some girl back home he barely knows. He’s a hopeless romantic underneath all that cynicism.

Then there's Runner—Wilbur Conley. Buffalo guy (you’d call him a yank), talks faster than anyone I've ever met. Always has a story or a joke, even when we're soaked through and starving. Somehow keeps our spirits up when things go to shit. Which is often.

Chuckler—Lew Juergens. Big guy, laugh you can hear across the island. Heart to match. The kind of Marine who'd give you his last ration even while complaining about it. Mother hen of our little group, always checking on everyone.

And Hoosier—Bill Smith. Quiet, tough as nails. Indiana farm boy who doesn't say much, but when he does, it matters. Good shot, better friend. Solid in a fight. The kind of guy you want next to you when the shooting starts. You both have the same amount of patience, which is to say none. You’d like him the most out of all of these idiots.

They all said to wish you happy birthday when I mentioned I was writing. They've heard enough about you to be curious. Leckie said any friend of mine who jumps out of planes for fun must be "either magnificent or certifiable." I told him probably both.

The harmonica is from me. Found it in Melbourne before we shipped out. Remembered you used to play when we were kids. It's small enough to take with you, even when you deploy. Music's always been your thing. Might help to have some of it with you over there.

Don't tell Sina, but the Pacific is bad, Isabella. Worse than they're saying back home. The Japs don't surrender, and neither do we.  Makes for a special kind of hell. If they send you to Europe, count yourself lucky.

Stay alive. Keep your head down and your wits sharp. Don’t expect any pictures because I don’t have the time or the energy to keep up with whatever weird game Lucas and the others have going on. And happy damn birthday.

Rook.

P.S. Leckie wrote you a line of poetry on the back of this letter. Said it reminded him of what I told him about you. Don't get any ideas—he writes poetry for everyone. Man's obsessed with words and himself.”

Isabella turns to the second page curiously, unsure of what she’d find.

"To the paratrooper friend of our taciturn comrade:

Happy birthday from a rain-soaked corner of hell.

'Hope' is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all -

(Dickinson understood something about courage, I think.)

Your friend speaks of you rarely, but when he does, it's with a quiet admiration that even the deluge here cannot dampen. He played one of your songs on a quiet night—something about home and waiting. The music lingered in our foxhole long after the notes faded.

May your landings always be soft, your voice remain clear, and your courage never waver.

Robert Leckie

1st Marine Division"

Isabella’s eyebrows furrow, confused. “What the fuck?”

The platoon stared at her silently for a moment before Luz broke the quiet with a low whistle.

"Damn, Birdie. You've got Marines writing poetry about you now?" he teased, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You must really make an impression."

Isabella flushed, waving Luz off hastily. "It’s not like that. You heard this Leckie guy just writes poetry to pass the time."

"Sure," Liebgott said with an exaggerated wink. "Nothing says boredom like comparing someone to 'hope.'"

Malarkey elbowed Liebgott playfully, grinning. "Hey, maybe Doc here's got herself a Marine admirer."

"Absolutely not," Isabella insisted, rolling her eyes as she tucked the letter away carefully, trying to ignore her still-warm cheeks. "He doesn't even know me. Plus, Darren said he’s writing to another girl anyway, it’s just a nice birthday gift."

Luz leaned in dramatically. "Oh, but maybe he wants to know you."

"Keep talking, Luz, and the next letter will be your eulogy," she warned, though she was smiling despite herself.

The men laughed good-naturedly, but eventually settled enough for Isabella to gently pick up the small, neatly wrapped harmonica from Darren. Her heart tightened with warm nostalgia at the sight of it, fingertips tracing its familiar shape. She smiled quietly, remembering warm Florida nights, Darren beside her on the porch, patiently listening to her songs drifting gently into the night air.

Darren, for all this nonchalance and cynicism, was incredibly loyal to his friends. To know that he remembered not only her birthday but to get her a gift while he was obviously suffering made her more than happy.

“Alright, next one!”

She carefully picks up the final letter, her mother’s pretty handwriting on the front of the envelope. 

“Isabella, 

Happy eighteenth birthday. How impossible it feels to write those words—I still vividly remember the tiny baby who clung so fiercely to my finger, the little girl who insisted she could climb any tree, and the brave young woman who confidently marched off to change history. We miss you every moment of every day.

Your father is well, though he worries constantly, as do we all. He spends extra time on the farm helping Mr.Jean next door, telling himself the hard work helps with his nerves, but I catch him pausing often, looking toward the sky, wondering if somewhere you might be doing the same.

Lucas and Cameron write to us often, though Lucas’s letters are few and far between with his new assignment overseas. Cameron’s letters are always long and detailed, filled with stories of his comrades that make us both laugh and worry equally. Sina and Darren both wrote as well—Sina from her exciting life in New York and Darren from the harshness of his deployment. It’s heartwarming to see how deeply you're loved by those around you. They make sure to keep us as updated as they do you. 

Enclosed are a few things we thought might make your days brighter. The earrings are a small reminder that home is always close, no matter how far you travel. Please wear them and think of us. The art supplies are from everyone—we hope they bring you comfort and joy in moments of quiet.

Most importantly, never forget how proud we are of you, Isabella. No matter where you go or what you face, we are with you always. Keep your head high, your heart brave, and remember to look after yourself as fiercely as you look after others. You were named after two strong women for a reason, never forget it.

Te queremos mucho, hija querida. 

Mama and Papa”

Isabella's eyes shimmered with tears, her throat tight as she finished reading. The barracks had grown quiet, the usual banter replaced with gentle understanding.

"You alright, Birdie?" Gene asked softly.

She nodded slowly, a soft smile forming despite her watery eyes. "Yeah. I just miss them a lot."

“What’d your mom mean by the name thing?” Liebgott spoke up curiously.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Isabella beams. “Well. As you know, my brother was named after my father. Unfortunately, by the time I was born my family had yet to find a name for me. My father wanted to keep the tradition and name me after my mom but my mom hated it. Instead, she and my brother decided to name me after Queen Isabella the First of Castile and the Virgin Mary. Isabella Maria.”

Luz let out a low whistle, nodding appreciatively. "Named after a queen and the Virgin Mary? Damn, Birdie, no wonder you turned out so fierce."

Isabella laughed softly, feeling lighter already. "Mama always joked that they set me up with impossible standards."

Skip spoke up from his bunk, eager to learn more about her. “So what’d they name your brother after?”

She snorts. “Michel after my father and Alejandro which is the Spanish equivalent of Alexander for Alexander the Great.”

Malarkey let out a playful groan. "So, let me get this straight. You’re named after a queen and the Virgin Mary, and your brother’s named after your dad and Alexander the Great?"

"Pretty much," Isabella said, grinning. "My family isn't exactly subtle."

Luz threw his hands up dramatically. "Well, great! How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?"

"You don't," Isabella shot back with a smirk. "But don't worry, Luz. I'm sure your family named you after someone special too—maybe the town troublemaker?"

Luz clutched his chest in mock offense. "Birdie, you wound me."

The barracks filled with laughter again, the atmosphere relaxed and warm. Isabella carefully tucked her letters away, reminding herself to read Maya’s letter later when she was alone.

That evening at dinner, Isabella is sung happy birthday by Easy Company and presented with a tiny cake made of dry cookies from their field rations and peaches from the kitchen. She’s too happy to tell them that she hates peaches. They don’t need to know that.

"Make a wish, Doc!" Malarkey urged enthusiastically.

Isabella laughed softly, leaning over the makeshift cake. "Trust me, boys, if this wish comes true, we're all getting home in one piece."

She blew out the small candle they’d scrounged up from god-knows-where, and the men erupted in cheers, clapping and whistling loudly enough to turn heads across the mess hall. Isabella smiled warmly, heart feeling impossibly full.

"Alright, Birdie, dig in," Luz encouraged, looking rather proud of their culinary creation.

She took a cautious bite, forcing herself not to grimace at the sweetness of the peaches. "Delicious," she lied, smiling brightly despite herself.

The men cheered again, slapping each other on the back and passing around the leftover cookies. Watching their laughter and camaraderie, Isabella decided she could manage peaches for one night—especially if it meant sharing this moment with them.

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translations: いさ-Isa, Con orgullo-With pride, Te queremos mucho, hija querida-We love you a lot beloved daughter.

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taglist: @malarkgirlypop, @darling-heffron

[itspikamefan]

Another something different

(Aight so I was gonna wait until I had Chapter 2 fully written out but with Chapter 3 now fully completed and Chapter 4 almost halfway done I decided to give a brief showing on what happens in Chapter 3 of Save the Tiger AU (Can't believe that's the official title now). With all that in mind, let's turn to Yonekura to see the incident that unfolds in Chapter 3's murder case and the subsequent execution that followed :3)

...

*bzzt*

...I swear to god... Yume... I am going to...

MMMMMMMHMMHMM!!!

*Inhales*

Dr.Haruka Yonekura... Session 1... Log 69...

To briefly explain my earlier frustration... It appears that Student 9 has been ill content with simply being an annoyance to the other students, but has also caused repeated problems with the staff, including creating yet ANOTHER Misleading Murder Case, AND Interrupting the execution this time around in order to save the executee, only to get herself injured in the process!

Jesus christ... I knew she wasn't the brightest bulb but she is making my job the LITERAL WORST right now.

...But anyways... That is not the purpose of this report...

The days before the actual murder took place, Student 9 had been repeatedly harassing and targetting Student 6 in a bullying campaign, severely injuring him and further worsening Injuries made to Student 3. This was all purposeful to trigger the anger of Student 11, who Student 9 considered her "Nemesis"

Then, the night before the actual murder, Student 9 carried out a sort of... swap. Kidnapping Student 12, Student 9 swapped their outfits with the unconcious Student 12, and tied him to her bedpost while walking around the school as him. The next night, after Student 9 pulled a particularly nasty stunt, Student 11 entered the room of Student 9 and strangled the bed's occupant to death. It was only after Student 11 had killed her victim, that she had realized her victim was Student 12...

Regardless, on the morning of the Investigation, Student 6 and 11 were led purposefully to the Workshop by Student 9 placing a wooden cross that could have only been made there underneath the now deceased Student 12. This was, in intention, to murder Student 11, thus connecting her murder to Student 9, and leading to both students dying as killers...

However, due to circumstances that I am still completely unable to comprehend... Instead of Student 11... Student 6 was the one to open the door to the Woodshop. Thus triggering the trap... And Ending his life...

And that leads us to the situation we have today, where there are two seperate murderer for two seperate victims. One has been executed as normal, and the other will be able to continue on like nothing happened at all. And of course... It had to be Student 9 who lived... Fucking hell...

...Surprisingly enough, Dr.Kan seemed very eager for this particular execution. He obviously has always been obsessed with his little "Creative" puppet shows that he makes the Students put on, but for the execution of Student 11, he seemed particularly giddy for this performance...

Let's see what he had in mind...

*Ahem*

"It's a Bird, It's a Plane."

"Student 11's execution began with stringing her up to a ceiling wire on the roof of her execution chamber, her limbs stretched out in resemblance of a Superhero Flight pose, as with her Ultimate Title. Surrounding Student 11's path were various boxes or wooden figures in different groups, all with Villanous Signs painted on them.

On the Intercom, Student 11 was instructed to destroy all of the "Villains" in the arena, with the promise of freedom if she managed to destroy them all. Student 11 was not given a set timer, for reasons that would become apparent later.

As the Course Started, Student 9's restraints began to move them along a treaded course rather quickly, understanding the assignment, Student 9 attempted to punch several Wodden Objects, knocking some of them off, destroying others, and barely grazing the last few. Out of the 70 objects, only 47 were destroyed on the first path.

On Student 11's Second cycle, the course sped up, leaving Student 9 less time to destroy the wooden targets. She managed to hit approximately 12 by the end of her Second go around.

This repeated, with Student 11 hitting less and less, till eventually 1 every 5 rounds as Student 11 "Flew" across the course at high speeds, causing Student 11 to vomit. Eventually, after a time, Student 11 managed to hit all but one of the boxes, though her speed was so great, she could only barely see the last box at the very end of the course, with a big target painted behind it, though just barely out of Student 11's reach.

Finally, afyter several cycles Student 11 was launched at the final target, as one research assistant in disguise, cut the wires on Student 11's restraints, causing Student 11 to continue her propelled momentum towards the target...."

Normally, the execution described would end with Student 11's crashing through the box and smashing against the wall, cracking her skull and other bones against the solid surface. However... At this point... Student 9 SOMEHOW managed to escape from the Trial Room to the Execution Chamber!

From there, Student 9 taunted Student 11 from behind the very last box, giggling like a maniac... Before Student 11's Body was catapulted into her, sending her flying against the wall as well...

While the Initial Purpose of the Execution still succeeded due to the High Speeds, causing Student 11's spine to snap and her skull to shatter, killing her instantly... This execution also ended up nearly, but unfortunately unsuccessfully, killing Student 9. She, in all of her stupid luck, managed to escape with only some Neck, back, and head injuries, while simultaneously being knocked unconcious...

I... have so many questions with this execution... Why did we divert so many resources into this execution design? How did Student 9 even manage to find out WHERE the execution was happening?! Why wasn't Monomoko watching her?! Why didn't she stop her?! WHY DIDN'T KAN STOP HER?!

*Inhales*

I'm going to be having yet another meeting with Dr.Kan about his misuse of expirement resources for his exorborent "Executions"... In the meantime, Monomoko has requested additional resources for Student 9's recovery... Which I unfortunately will have to provide... Fuck... My... Life...

Dr.Haruka Yonekura. Session 1, Log 69... Signing Off

*Click*