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messier-47 · 1 year ago

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RE7, RE8

A study of Ethan Winters cause I love him as a character and he's so fucking weird? definetely interesting.

I've taken a few liberties about his character

RE8 is so fucked up.

I hate it.

Okay, so Resident Evil games have this entire set up/scheme that they religously follow. If it ain't broke, don't try to fix it, right? RE7 was different because it was a FPS with a very intimate horror setting. It relied solely on horror and not just the adventure side of most Resident Evil games. RE8 was crafted exactly like a typical Resident Evil videogame which isn't bad but Ethan made the difference.

Ethan is "a regular dude" given the motive "save my daughter" with the added emotional turmoil of "my wife is dead". Kinda sounds familiar right? it's almost in parallel with RE7.

"My wife's been missing for 3 years" -> "i just my wife get murdered"

"I must find my wife" -> "i must find my daughter."

So now we have Ethan's entire emotional state and motive to go forth into dangerous scenario to base videogame off of. However...all too quickly everything gets way out of hand. In RE7, the presented story is something understanble and maybe even relateable to Ethan's understanding of the world. He went into the deep swamps of Louisiana and there's a crazy murder family who'd been snatching victims (this is without the explanation of mold which is later revealed to him). Now he walks into a european village and there suddenly werewolves? steampunk man with metal powers? marionette witchcraft? hunchback of putrid mutant? evil seraphim? this is way out of his league of understanding!

And yes, he had some form of military training and was in some form of witness protection program? However there's a BIG difference between "yeah I survived Louisiana madhouse that just happened to be a mold hot spot, afterwards getting military training" and then Leon Kennedy level of bullshit bumfuckery. speaking of Leon, RE8 was odd because it kept treating Ethan as if he was Leon!

I don't mean the "Ethan Winters your reputation proceeds you" or how RE8 was just a reordered version of RE4 with some diverse bossfights, it was the "let's treat Ethan like the heroic character" when...he isn't. RE8 would have been so much better if Miranda and the Lords weren't so concerned over Ethan's appearance. What if Miranda and the Lords were going about their business getting ready for the ceremony when suddenly there was "some guy" who starts culling their army reserve?

Ethan's character in RE8...is pretty bland in comparison to RE7. Again, it's probably because he's a "quiet" man who doesn't really talk to the camera about what he knows, what he's thinking or feeling. RE8 is so big and momentous that it sorta drowns him out as a character with agency. His dialogue isn't as rich, his choices are very guided towards an endpoint, and...even the shit we do see makes Ethan out to be more heroic than what we've seen in RE7.

It's...odd? and maybe this is just bais and opinion at this point but Ethan Winters is a character ill-fitted into the protagonist role of RE8. Whereas Chris Redfeild, Leon Kennedy, and Jill Valentine could all be fitted into heroic roles and imagery like King George and the Dragon, David and Goliath, and Joan of Arc, Ethan was never a character to lead an epic journey. He's more of a "silent hunter"? idk, keep having the image of a slow and steady persistence hunter, verses...whatever the hell the other heroes got going for them.

Really, the storyline of RE8 is ill-suited for Ethan. Can't say I don't understand, a videogame is often just a videogame so the story is compromised to better fit the gameplay. and because it's so bad, I'm really tempted to do a RE8 rewrite fanfic out of pure spite but lmao ain't got enough braincells to spread across two fandoms when i'm already invested in one.

So we go up against the 4 Lords before we have a face-off against Miranda. The segment in Lady D's castle...was awkward in a character development sense. Ethan heads into the castle over and over against cause it's the biggest building around and thus the most likely to have his daughter, except even with the Duke's hints and encouragement, Ethan's motive was really shaky. Why? Because was he in the castle to save his daughter or to kill vampire ladies? would've been better if that part of the game was more dedicated to "run, hide, and investigate" with the sisters trying to hunt for him just like later Lady D would do. Instead we have multiple mini-boss fight scenes before we see the cradle and remember why we're in the castle in the first place. then we fight+defeat Lady D. Which is weird? Okay, so game mechanics Lady D just happens to find you after you kill her 3 daughters and start tomb-robbing. However...story wise it's weird because your PRIME motive is "find my daughter" so why go on killing spree? why the heroics?

we go to Duke and finally get our mission to find/build master key and also collect daughter parts from the 4 Lords.

We go to Beneviento's house which was a WASTED OPPORTUNITY for some character exposition. CURSE YOU ETHAN FOR BEING A QUIET MAN!!! We got to hear Mia talking to herself throughout her pregnaucy and honestly without the added context of "Mia was confronting the truth about both Ethan and her baby being mold people" ...i would have thought all her dialogue was due to a hard pregnaucy. This could have been prime real estate to expose Ethan and Mia's relationship, how they healed after RE7, their thoughts about building back their marriage, their fears and even the doubts about having a child. but we get NOTHING from Ethan! Was the monster baby a representation of Mia's fear? Ethan's fear? or was it just a monster? IDK! this part was so good horror wise but storytelling it SUCKED!

the Monreau segment was so lackluster. It was just a RE4 reference except more gross with acid and boogers everywhere. Ethan is able to get ahold of his daughter piece and for some reason he found pity for Monreau's weeping? He definitely stopped to listen to whiny fish baby's tantrum which I find really odd because...why??? He never showed much sympathy so why now would he stop to listen to "Miranda wants her baby back" speech? unless it was only meant for a game mechanic which i'm getting sick and tired of because it's just shit writing at this point.

We go get to reunite with Chris and get some answers as to what's going on but really Chris? you're gonna look the same man who UNTRAINED and COMPLETELY IGNORANT managed to clear an entire bioweapon's mold infestation BY HIMSELF and try to say "stand down" and expect obediance? yeah, your brainwashing military training ain't that strong.

Then we get to Karl's segment and... honestly why? why was Karl even interested in Ethan? Ethan doesn't have extraordinary abilities other than "fuck you" levels of adrenaline and perseverance. So why did he want Ethan on his team as he reblled against Miranda? Heh, almost understanable why Karl/Ethan is a thing because i can't think or anything other than pure lust probing Karl to make his offer. Karl is a bioweapon engineer, having built an army of cyborgs and is probably the only person in the village who know how cellphones actually work. Oh, as he had magnet powers so why does he want/need Ethan? In order for Rose to be reliably handled and managed? she's a 6 month baby, not even potty trained, wtf?

then chris comes clean about everything and Ethan uses tank to defeat mutant Karl with some moves pretty sure Leon Kennedy would be proud of cause they were pure bullshit.

Ethan finds out about his own mold problem and ugh you can't convince me the whole "Ethan knew he was going to die so might as well sacrifice himself" was just add to trigger the fuck out of Chris who'd seen his friend in RE5 die in an incredibly simular way. Very dramatic, heroic scene. Very "i face god and walk backwards into hell"

All in all...RE8 was a videogame. Forgiveable? Yeah, cause it was never meant to be a story. the problem here is that whilst all Resident Evil games are literally video games and makes compromises about characters, their development arcs, their stories so that it's more about the game than an actual narrative, RE8...was just a game with a cobbled together story with no care to the actual characters.

And it wasn't just Ethan who got the short end of the stick. Chris Redfield was casted into an anti-hero role and Mia was a forgotten SUPER SKETCHY character throughout. Uuuuuuggggghhhh at this point i'm just raging against a video game instead of doing an indepth character study. sorry gang

#ethan winters #resident evil #chris redfield #re8 #re8 village #character study #long post #rant incoming

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woodaba · 1 year ago

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I Still Like Tyranny

i replayed tyranny after getting a bit tired of seeing that Other Big RPG recently, and to my delight, i thought it was still good, for the most part. it represents the kind of breadth and scale i value most in these kinds of games: less an enormous field of markers and possibility, more a dark forest of snares and traps, always one foot away from stepping into a nest of vipers.

for those unfamiliar, tyranny is a game about playing a middle-ranked officer in a conquering army in a bronze-age fantasy society, managing a civil war between two factions within the army. you work for the villains, carry the authority of villains and most of your conversation options will have you speaking just like a villain.

tyranny is smart. despite this being the selling point of the game, it's acutely aware that most players will take this as a challenge - as statistics and statements from multiple developers, including obsidian themselves suggest, almost everyone who plays these kinds of games plays a Good character - and try to defy the stated premise try to claw out some form of heroism in this awful world. knowing this, tyranny carefully and methodically pushes back against attempts to be an honorable and noble person within the role of the fatebinder. it dangles the carrot of self-preservation and gratification to lure you away from the path of righteousness, to ask you to make one compromise - just one, just now - in the hopes that will lead to a better future that has already been closed off from you. it never lets hope die completely - not till the very end - even though you can have completely ruined any chance of defiance with the sixth click of the mouse button after character creation.

each playthrough, i have tried to rebel against kyros, to join the indigenous population and beat back the obviously evil invaders, and until now, i have failed, tripping and falling down a slippery slope that begins with attempted nobility, drops further into compromises and justifications stacked one after another, and ends on a world little different than how it began, save the markings of my boot-print upon it. this time, however, i succeeded: i negotiated an alliance with the rebels of the tiers and forged a true resistance against Kyros the Overlord, and ultimately, i think i found the experience a little wanting.

it's not that it's disappointing, but rather that it's the opposite: i think it lets me rebel too much. tyranny is fun when you play it as a cackling supervillain, but what it excels at is making you a spineless coward, abusing legal loopholes to make meager gains without damaging your power and authority, to be a lickspittle for as many factions as you can to curry favor among them, to do one thing and say the other, to act as a CRPG protagonist so often does, in ways utterly tinged and made sharp by the nature of the premise. at its core, tyranny is a game about how the state and the law will twist and morph whatever actions you take to be in its benefit, to incorporate criticisms and spit them back out, to take rebellion and absorb it into its mass, to take hope and erode it's convictions until the flames only burn for what the state wants them to burn for.

there's little of that to be found in the rebel path, sadly. bereft of the central power of the premise, you're mostly playing a normal CRPG about uniting the tribes against a greater threat, only with your character being a bit more of an asshole about it. this would be fine if the game maintained its fantastic ending - often mischaracterized as empty and unfinished, the slow zoom out of the map to show that all that you have done has been anticipated and accounted for within the system, that whatever gains you have made, whatever you have done, all of it will amount to naught in the end, to be swept away in the tide of history by a force that is Bigger than even the almighty CRPG Protagonist can survive. but it doesn't, not quite - you can hurt Kyros in this ending, not entirely, not completely - and still in a way that makes clear that this is within the scope of Their design, but I think that is too far, too supplicant to the player's need for power and gratification.

when i first finished it, i wondered if the rebel path was simply fully subtractive from the experience, but with further thought, i don't think that's the case. as much as i think it is strictly weaker than the scarlet chorus and disfavored paths, i do think there is value in it's existence - not to play, but to know it exists, to strive for it, and ultimately fail. i don't play tyranny to win - as much as i think the gameplay is better than many give it credit for, i don't think it's strong in the ways that the more traditionally driven games in this genre are strong. i don't play to escape the forest of traps: i play to try, and fail, to be caught in my own compromises and contradictions, to fall into that nest of vipers, and lose myself in them.

#video games #rpg #review #tyranny

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nexus-nebulae · 4 months ago

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What would you consider to be middle class then and what are some tell tale signs someone is middle class in your opinion? I feel like the lines are so blurred sometimes

I dunno. As far as I'm aware, recently it's pretty much been agreed upon by most people who know more about economics than me that currently, the middle class pretty much no longer exists, more and more people finding themselves lower and lower class-wise (I actually got an ad just this morning for Kamala Harris' campaign saying she intends to start rebuilding the middle class; i hope so that sounds nice. also proposing hard caps on medication prices god i hope so).

Middle class America (from what I know, which is always flawed, i am not an economist) is pretty much the suburban model. You're able to support your needs as a person or family (whatever size that may be) and often don't need to make large compromises on purchases. It's not quite like, gated community, HGTV cookie cutter house, HOA type living- that's more upper middle- but usually you're not renting your home and you might have a spare room or an office in your house. You can afford a good enough computer and phones, you probably have at least one gaming console (though sometimes for those you have to wait until a discount or sale). You probably don't have to work multiple jobs to support the household, or there's enough people in the household working one job each that it works out. You're able to support yourself/ves and don't necessarily need to rely much on community/governmental resources (in fact, I'm fairly sure it gets more and more stigmatized to do so the more well off you are. which probably contributed to the death of community in america tbh)

From what little I know about economics, the middle class is a fairly new thing- coinciding with (or causing) the rise of the suburb and the nuclear family model, if I'm thinking right. And a lot of the time, the lines are blurred, as depending on a lot of factors they can move and shift over time. There are legal definitions for some, which you can find online calculators for, using a few factors like your household's income and housing costs- though it might not always be accurate to how well you're meeting your needs. Inflation plus stagnant wages over the course of quite a few years has been causing the middle class to shrink more and more. To me it honestly feels like there's six class distinctions that make sense to me right now: poverty or inability to support the home at all (which should never exist imo), lower class which is mostly struggling but still functioning, lower middle where it's not as constantly stressful but you're still not comfortable, upper middle HOA types, upper class influencer/celebrity/ceo types, and then the 1% (which also shouldn't exist imo) . Hopefully Americans start to agree on how to make stuff economically better soon and actually put it into action.

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lyranova · 2 years ago

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Hello! For your new ask game, can I request 1, 7, 14, 18, 19, 27 and 44 for Vanzel? If I should have only chosen one number, sorry, you can choose 🥰

Hiya anon! No worries you can choose as many numbers as you like I don’t mind 😁, I never put a limit as to how many numbers a person can choose because…where’s the fun in that 😆? So please feel free to choose as many as you like 🥰!

1. Describe their first date.

I feel like their first date was spontaneous 😆! Like I just imagine Vanessa coming up to him after the SE and BB’s had a joint mission together, grabbing him by the arm, and telling him that they were going to celebrate a job well done at some restaurant and when he asks if the others are coming to she just winks and says “Guess you’ll have to find out.” and so he just…goes along with it 😆. In Nozel’s mind it’s just the two of them celebrating a job well done, but eventually he realizes that this is more than meets the eye, and that Vanessa actually took him out on a date without directly telling him it was a date 😆.

That’s just how I imagine their first date being lol!

7. How often do they say “I love you”?

Hmm I feel like they both say it at least once a day! Vanessa probably says it a little more than Nozel, but that’s because she’s a little more affectionate than he is. But I think Nozel developed this habit as a child right after Acier died, he would recall how he didn’t tell his mother that he loved her the night before she passed and before Vanica attacked her. And he’s regretted it ever since. So in order to never repeat that mistake he always tells Vanessa that he loves her before she goes on a mission, or before she leaves, or before she falls asleep.

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection?

I think they’re a bit of both 🤔. Vanessa enjoys PDA while Nozel prefer’s private affection. But, as the two are together for a while I feel like they compromise on it. Vanessa tones down the PDA and will express herself more in private, while Nozel tries to be more open and comfortable with PDA and will try to express himself more in that way!

18. How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick?

Hmm, I feel like Nozel would get the best of the best medical team if Vanessa was wounded or sick. He would soare no expense in taking care of her, and once he was assured that she would be alright, he would take care of her to the best of his ability as she healed/got better (I imagine he’s pretty clumsy at taking care of someone since he hasn’t done it before 😆!).

Vanessa would probably consult Owen on how to best take care of Nozel if he was sick/wounded, she would ask Charmy to make some of her best recovery food, and would ask Finral to help take her places so she could get supplies to help Nozel heal/get better. Like Nozel she would probably be a little clumsy at it at first, but she would get better at it as time goes on and would do whatever she could to help him recover!

19. Do they wear each other’s clothes/jewelry?

Oh 100% Vanessa wears Nozel’s shirts, coats, etc! I can just imagine the first time Nozel saw Vanessa wearing one of his shirts, his eyes probably went wide and his cheeks turned a bright red 😆! Her wearing one of his shirts probably unlocked something in his brain that he didn’t realize, so now he kind of encourages her to wear his clothes, which she doesn’t mind, since all his clothes are pretty comfortable to lounge around in 😆!

27. How do they say “I love you” non-verbally?

Nozel would probably do littles things for Vanessa to try and show her that he loves her. I still HC Nozel as “Acts of Service” in his love language so he probably cleans up after her, or makes the bed, or even rearranges her wine collection to make it easier for her 😆! While Vanessa shows her love for him by giving him gifts or physical touch (such as hugging, holding his hand, that sorta stuff)!

44. Do they cuddle often? Why or why not?

I think they do! I think Nozel would be a bit unsure of cuddling at first, but the more he and Vanessa do it the more he finds that he really enjoys it! Now after they’ve been together for a while Nozel will initiate cuddle sessions, especially when it’s been a tough day. And Vanessa doesn’t mind, she actually really enjoys it herself 😁!

#asks #anon🌟#vanzel #nozessa #vanessa x nozel #nozel x vanessa #nozel silva #vanessa enoteca #ship ask game #thanks for asking 💕!

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cagenewman · 4 months ago

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No weekend spiral necessary, I promise you. For once, we actually just have a normal, regular Newman Family weekend ahead, we can sleep in tomorrow and everything, It's supposed to rain in the morning, that's as good of an excuse as any other to hang out in bed for a little while longer, right? I hope so. I just wish I could have been less of a mess when he was still here, you know? Speaking of raising that little girl, I did drop a text to Rafael, just to find out if that was something he could help with. He can, and said that he can get it started any time, so. I'm really good at tormenting you into loving me, when you think about it. As a kid, as a teenager, as a full grown adult… Oh, I don't pay for the storage unit. I restored the owner's home years ago, and he was so happy with the work that he literally gave me two lockers in his unit and told me that it was grandfathered in. You just have to know the right people. No, I just… I don't know, dreams change, and our life is a lot different now than it was when we were kids and you used to lay in the bed of my truck with your head on my chest. Do you think that Cordelia, teenaged Cordelia, do you think I'd still be the man of her dreams? They're not shriveling, you're so dramatic, you make it seem like you're fifty. I probably did, and then I went and did the crazy thing and bought a ring and I sort of skipped a few steps, and now I'm circling back. I know you're not. And I know that I'm very lucky that you are patient enough that you haven't given up on me. I don't want to miss out on a window, either, I just… want to make sure we're okay, that we're ready. What if -- can we compromise? Talk about it more often, get through the wedding, the football season, give these kids the best holiday season they've ever had, and then… if we feel good. If we feel it's right. Try? Nah, I know, and he's kind of a lot like dad in that way, he was always at the farm, always working hard, taking care of us kids. I try not to push, you know? I get that. You didn't want to get hurt again. And I am sorry for that, I never meant for you to feel that way about relationships, I was a dumb kid, I wasn't thinking about how much it would stick with you, fuck you up, you know? I didn't think about how much it would fuck me up, either. No. I didn't even like her that much. She was really pretty and hooking up with me was sexy and taboo for her because I was working for her dad. It was the only time that I ever fucked up, as far as being careful. I think I liked the danger, the excitement, I got caught up in it. Honestly? I don't know. I don't have a number, it wasn't one of those things where I was keeping score or trying to rack up a body count, I was young, I was attractive, I was good, and I didn't miss a single opportunity. She was texting me a few weeks back about strippers. So I'm pretty sure she likes you better than me, anyway. But we'll let her get whatever photos she wants this time around, and I promised they'll get better placement on the walls, even. Yeah, he can go in as receiver if he wants, but if they end up having a high scoring game like that the rest of the season, he could play fourth quarter, too, when they pull first string, and that would be really good experience for him. JD won't let them get too stressed out, he's a good guy, he'll keep an eye on both of them, you know?

Good, I'd be worried if you didn't get it, and we've been married six months now. I'd have to wonder who did I marry?! That's not a spiral I'm looking to go on this weekend. He would have been proud of you for so many things. Settling down, running a business, starting another family business, taking in and raising another teen to give him a shot at his dream and a great scholarship, raising a little girl as your own, keeping the family together with the help of your brother. There's so much he'd be proud of. Well, given he was that much older, I don't think I would have ended up ever having a crush on your brother, if I'm honest. Maybe if you hadn't come along and pulled my hair and tormented me into loving you, but I guess we'll never know. Storage units work too but those you have to pay for, where as if we build you pay it once and done. Yes, you are the man of my dreams, is that really so hard to believe? Even if I'm absolutely stuck with you not that I've got this ring on my finger. I mean... it's a crawling slow pace, my eggs are shriveling up as we speak... I'm just saying! I feel like I heard let's talk after the holidays before? Didn't you say that last summer too about waiting till after the holidays? I promise, I'm not trying to be difficult, but -- there is part of me that is worried the longer we wait, the more chance that it's not going to happen due to time, due to it being harder to get pregnant with older age, and those worry me. Guess I don't want to miss out on our window of time... Well you've foiled my plan, now I don't know what I'll do because you'll probably tell your brother my big plan and I'm screwed! Guess as long as he's happy that's really all that matters. Think I'm in the mindset I just also don't want him to miss out on anything because he feels like he can't go out and have fun because he's on the farm. Well, after you left, the idea of commitment really was broken, I didn't trust the idea of relationships. If you could leave, if my parents could be who they are, I couldn't trust anyone again. I could date, I could have sex, that was easier. I had needs like you said, but I didn't want complications, I didn't want messy. So, had you not had Colton you don't think there would have been a relationship with his mother? A lot of sex? How many we talking here, Newman? Don't worry I will talk to her, less likely to kill me, or I think so anyway. Just think it'd be good to have multiple and let her enjoy. Also, think we should look to hire a videographer. Well, we couldn't have brought her or it would have defeated the purpose of getting married in secret. They played amazing, starting the season off with a win, can't do much better than that. I don't think he minds, it's not like he doesn't get play time in another position while he has backup to Shawn to keep him in shape and everything. I will say I won't let that coach stress them sick over eventual scouts though, I can absolutely kick his ass if needed. I know they mean well, and it's important but just want to make sure they don't go overboard with school just starting.

#talking with cordelia

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curseofaphrodite · 2 years ago

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Two of Hearts

daemon targaryen x reader | deck of cards part 2/3,

series masterlist | summary: night time visitors often come with complications

Late into the night, you heard knocks on your door. There were persistent and rough, so you already knew it wasn't going to be your handmaiden. With curiosity getting the better of you, you pulled it open.

"Hello," Daemon tilted his head to one side. He didn't appear drunk, and he smelled fine, but something about him said he was intoxicated.

"What do you want?" you asked cautiously.

"I sensed you weren't sleeping and thought we could have a party of our own."

"Be serious."

"I am," he nodded towards your room. "I have much to talk about with the future queen. All politics, of course."

"I'm — Daemon, you can't be this stupid," you sighed. "I am not going to bed you. It's foolish you'd even think I would."

He blinked. "Who said anything about bedding?"

"I don't know what you think about me but I'm not going to be a whore. And if I am, it won't be for a prince who has more tantrums than a 12-year-old."

His puppy dog eyes immediately turned blank. Fear crept inside, because you knew you had finally annoyed him. You preferred him to look actually furious instead of whatever the hell he was doing now.

His right hand reached upwards quickly, grabbing your chin with an unfamiliar softness. While his touch was firmly gentle, his eyes said otherwise.

"Disrespecting me is disrespecting the court," he said sharply, forcing you to look at him. Your heart started hammering for more reasons than one. To add more bad luck, you heard footsteps in the distance.

"Someone's coming," you hissed, not wanting to be seen together in a somewhat compromising position.

"I bet it's Alicent... or maybe Viserys—"

Rumors, rumors, rumors. They had more power to destroy you than fire. You had learned that quickly even before coming to Westeros.

"Now's not your time for games," you said, gritting your teeth. Then you did the only thing you could. You grabbed him by his collar and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him as quickly as possible. He let go, but he seemed just as surprised as you.

"You can't be that scared of Viserys!" Daemon laughed, but there was a genuine question behind those words.

"I'm not scared!" You plopped down in your bed, looking out the window with a frown. "I just don't know what I'm doing here."

"Don't play clueless. You're here to get the Iron Throne, as foolish as it seems."

"Why?" your eyes turned to him, determined. "Why is it foolish for someone like me to get the throne?"

"You're not a Targaryen. You'll never be a Targaryen."

"Are you calling a war against my house?"

Daemon walked towards the table, then took the chess board which you had brought from your home. You had no one to play it with, so it remained useless. Until now.

Wordlessly, he arranged the wooden figures, then drew himself a chair so he could sit next to you. You frowned.

"Make a move," he asked, nodding towards the pieces. You hesitated before pushing a pawn forward.

"Your house is reputable," he murmured, lost in the game. "But it's not enough. When worst comes to worst, dragons are what people fear. Not the rulers."

"I'd still be a better ruler than you. And certainly Viserys."

Daemon used his horse, so you did the same. The game passed in silence for a while, like he was contemplating more than just the strategy.

"You would be a better queen." He stated finally, looking up. But right as he said that, he also took your king.

Son of a bitch.

-----

He returned the next night. And the next. And the next.

To be transparent, Daemon did have a plan. He would think of the sweetest of things to say to you (anything to fuck up your wedding), yet words failed him every time.

It wasn't because he chose not to say it. He simply couldn't. He'd open his mouth and he'll already know what you'd reply if he called you beautiful. He already knows how you'll laugh if he compares your smile to a winter's moon. He knows you won't fall for any of his tricks.

Simply said, he knows you know him. So he resigned to chess games and talk of books, all of which only made him more restless.

Little by little, Daemon Targaryen found himself losing the act he wrote for himself.

-----

A WEEK LATER.

-----

The door seemed to be mocking you.

No matter how many times you've considered knocking, you couldn't bring yourself to do it, nor could you walk away. It was all a blur of wondering if you were crossing a line you'd already crossed. You were contemplating everything wrong you ever did in your life, from birth to where you were standing.

Then, out of the blue, the door opened loudly, startling the life out of you.

"I could hear your existential crisis from inside," Daemon said, his voice monotone. Despite the late hour, he was fully clothed. His white shirt and messy hair stood out against the candlelight. He smelled of sand, making you wonder if he was out by the sea again.

"I—" you coughed. "You haven't come to my room for days."

He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize I was obliged to."

"Daemon," you sucked in your breath, wondering just how awkward this conversation was going. "You're the only fr-acquaintance I have in this palace."

"You can say friend."

"Fine then. Friend."

He sighed. "The rumors were getting more complicated. I couldn't tell every person I saw on my way back from your room that I was merely teaching you how to play chess. it sounds unbelievable even to me."

"Since when have rumors stopped you?" you challenged, glaring. "Do I remind you that they're going to spin stories regardless of the facts anyway?"

"Do you really want a chess partner so much that you're willing to lose every night?"

"I'll win one day," you said, glad to sound light-hearted again. "And like I said, I've grown to like your annoying ass. You're one of the evilest men I've encountered in my life, but you're just as entertaining."

"Well then, it'd be rude of me to not invite you to your jester's room." He said, stepping aside. "Which reminds me, I have a particular book you'd love. It's about a queen trapped in a high tower."

"Let me guess, a prince saves her?" you asked, walking inside. Your eyes didn't miss out on anything. His room was different, with a large silver bed and more windows than you can count. Everything appeared regal and expensive, but all of them were just as messy.

"A dragon does." Daemon left the door unlocked, as if it could give you extra reassurance. You internally rolled your eyes.

"Sounds very Targaryen."

"The book is supposedly a Targaryen artifact too."

"Supposedly?"

"I stole the book from the vault when I was 9 years old. It bore the family crest and looked important so I figured what's the harm."

You laughed. "Did you really?"

Maybe you imagined it, or maybe your laugh had something to do with how his eyes suddenly softened. You felt butterflies just by the thought.

"Don't believe me? Check the cupboard. The book's there."

You wandered across the room until you reached where he was pointing at. You pulled it open and saw a mess of decoratives inside; from goblets to jewel-studded rings.

"Don't you ever clean?" you asked, looking for the mysterious book anyway.

"I don't think the servants know this is my room. Who could blame them, I'm hardly even here."

"Yes, I forgot you like to spend your time in others' rooms," you teased, wondering whose room he had been in the last few nights. You were almost tempted to ask.

"I truly am sorry if you were led to think I was mad at you. Forget the rumors, I just didn't want to disturb your duties. You're undoubtedly busy." His voice grew more grave, if that was even possible.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"The wedding's in three days." His voice came from right behind you. His body was pressed up against yours, and his hand reached over your shoulder to get to the higher shelf.

"The book is up here." He said for clarification. But you didn't move, didn't reply, didn't even take the book from his hands as he lowered it. You simply stood there, registering his words and his warm breath right beside your neck.

"The wedding preparations are done so I'm not busy," you whispered. Why did it sound like you were apologizing?

Daemon put the book back and slowly circled your waist with his arms. It was purely affectionate, and that made you want to hug him and cry. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, taking his time to answer.

"It's a wonder how Viserys gets everything I want. The throne, and now you." He said, and you didn't know what was softer — his touch or his words.

You groaned. "Stop that! Stop acting as if I'm anything more than an unfortunate liability for your throne."

"That's the irony in it," he pressed a kiss against your neck and you melted into a puddle inside. You were dead and resurrected back to life when he dragged his lips across your skin. "We're both traitors. I'm a liar so you can't trust a word I say so if I ever truly love you, you won't believe it anyway."

"Because it'd be a lie."

"I will plead with you just once." He turned you around, cupping your jaw. He stared intently, bravely — as if he was about to do something he never did. "Just once I will beg. Don't marry him."

"Daemon—"

"Please." He went down on his knees, holding your hands instead. He wasn't even looking up at you, like that would cost him plenty. His voice was shaky and he knew this wasn't just an act. He would never humiliate himself for his tricks.

He was truly desperate.

"I can't back out of the wedding. Viserys would call a war on my house. My family—"

"I know you won't say yes but hear me out, humor me for a minute," He clasped your hands tighter. "We could run away, I don't want the fucking throne. I want you—"

"I have to go," you said firmly, fighting back the sudden urge to kneel beside him and never part. "I shouldn't have come."

You pulled back and he let you go, wide-eyed and surprised. He stood up and watched as you walked off. He followed halfway, then upon realizing you were indeed gone, he slammed the door shut.

"Fuck!" He yelled, kicking the nearby table.

It didn't help. His shoulders started to shake, he was breathless, and before he knew what was happening — he started to cry.

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

next, final part will be out soon! itll end happy i swear 😭🤌

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

taglist: @eexphoria @sebastian025 @cecilyjmorgenstern @lilitheal @imnotyourbcbe @loveandlewis-reads @mariamyousef702 @1-800-isabellapotter @skywalkerr27 @ohhh-boo-tiful @paula-lkr @purechaosss @andrea-np @makaramosss @snixx2088 @ephemeralninon @wulfriedxanthene

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen fluff #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #astoria writes #imagines #angst

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elliebean714 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello again!! So I was just doing some thinking and something popped in my head...

Emily x reader x Matt!!

Matt needs someone who has time and patience to take care of him as much as he takes care of others! And Emily needs someone that can stand her girl talk and understand her fashion!! I can be that person!!!

Sorry got excited, uhh please, and thank you 🦋💘

Yeyy!! Emily is my favourite girl!! (Well second. My heart belongs to Ashley 🥺💕) But Matt deserved better than her, let's hope thats you💀 sorry this took so long and is so short, I've had a lot of writers block lately. Please forgive me😭 I'm working on your other request right now, shouldn't be too long 🙏

Matt Taylor x GN!Reader x Emily Davis

Headcanons

Fluff

Pre-Game

Okay so you'd probably have to be the mediator in this relationship💀

You'd have to remind Matt to stick up for himself and that his feelings matter.

And you'd have to remind Emily to be nicer and to appreciate Matt more

Sorry Em but Matt deserves better😭✋

Whenever Matt is feeling down or emotionally needy you'd be there for him, holding him, kissing him, just talking to him, cus we all know Em won't be💀

Whenever Emily is in a really bad mood you'd be the only one able to calm her down, paint each others nails, let her do your make-up, or just chat about what's bothering her

You being there would probably make Emily less likely to cheat with Mike.

Because she genuinely loves and respects you and she doesn't want to hurt and betray you.

If Matt and Emily ever had a disagreement, the first thing you'd do is ensure Matt won't just back down to do whatever she wants

The next thing you'd do is try to find some sort of compromise they can both agree to

The most important thing would be to make sure Matt is happy and is not just going along with whatever you say to avoid the conflict

Because you're the loving and supportive partner you are, you'd go to every single one of Matts Football games

Showing up in his letterman jacket

Screaming his name in support 😭💖

You and Emily go on shopping trips verrryyy often

Completely spoiling each other

Buying each other clothes

But she's always the more stylish one😭

Overall, you'd be the mediator in this disaster of a relationship💀

Video Games And Characters You Can Request

Request Always Open 🦋

~Elliebean714

♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡

#matt taylor until dawn x reader #matt taylor x reader #until dawn matt #matt taylor until dawn #matt taylor #matt x reader x emily #matt taylor x reader x emily davis #emily davis #Emily davis until dawn x reader #emily davis x reader #until dawn emily #Emily until dawn

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spamtonology · 3 years ago

Note

tell us somethin about spamton you haven’t previously discussed here

Hm, I generally like a prompt else my brain draws a blank.

I've talked about his infantilization before and there is still a lot to go through regarding that aspect.

There's a very common trope, which is giving Spamton a bath or making him take a bath.

It makes sense, and it's generally pretty smart to offer someone like him a bath, since he's been living on the streets for so long. Baths and showers also relieve stress as well!

However, the problem lies in the execution, in this case how the ubiquitous bath/shower scene plays out in fanfiction.

You do have cases where he takes a shower by himself without any help, which is good! He can do this, he would not have forgotten how to bathe, it's just been some time. Then, you have the opposite, where Spamton is being given a bath or shower.

Usually a reader insert or Swatch, this person assumes the role of authority and pushes him into taking a bath, often with disregard to his complaints and sometimes being rough with him. Bonus points if the Acid Theory plays a role.

What is the problem with this? it is infantilization/dehumanization of his character: Treating him like a baby or feral animal who cannot consent and must be forced into taking a bath he desperately does not want.

To push this further, helping him with every single step of taking a bath is also an issue, why can't he just scrub himself, and dry himself? There is an exception to be made when the situation calls for it e.g. Spamton is injured/incapacitated in some way and as a result cannot physically move in a way that would allow scrubbing and drying. Most fanfiction I have seen seems to not use this particular situation anyway in favor of treating him like a cat, for whatever reason.

There is nothing in the game itself that would indicate Spamton having any aversion to bathing/showering, so I think one of the reasons it comes up is due to his present homeless state, and the popularity of the Acid Theory. Another is that it is actually a fairly popular fanfic trope in some circles to give characters, in the same or similar situation as Spamton, a bath.

That is not to say I don't want to see this kind of scene anymore. I've seen Spamton shower scenes be pulled off incredibly well such as in our favorite fanfiction Steppin' Out, where he has a realistic breakdown and epiphany to his current situation while he takes a shower on his own accord.

My fanfiction also includes a shower scene, but in a medical setting, so some things have an exception here, but there's also subversion.

He is offered help with showering by a nurse, and turns down the offer, claiming he can do it himself. The nurse understands this, and respects his choice; he only needs help with undoing his hospital gown since the way to open it is on the back and hard for him to reach. The nurse stays outside the bathroom door in case of any emergencies, while Spamton showers himself.

The whole time, he is treated as any middle-aged patient would be, no more and no less.

It's not perfect, but it is slightly better than some examples I have seen in fanfiction.

The other problem I have is the inclusion of the acid theory in regards to him taking a bath. I will say I do not have PTSD so I cannot accurately estimate why warm, clear water would be equal to boiling, lime green acid at all, but...Apparently it can? I also do not see why he would throw a fit over it, either.

If the character never knew that Spamton has trauma associated with acid, they can apologize for the mistake and come up with a compromise. If the character already knew, and therefore did not care about the consequences...I think that's considered abuse.

#spamton

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

Text

𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

summary: five ways he says i love you through his actions

warnings: implied nudity and s*x, discusses food and eating and nothing else, i think. oh, and maybe some typos

category: headcanons

love letters/notes

leo is a busy boy

he's always picking up new projects so he can spend all day in his workshop or the forges with his siblings

when you guys live together, he leaves small notes on the refrigerator for you

they're always short, saying simple things like "i love you" and "i miss you already"

for the love letters, he'll leave them in random places for you to find

if you're a big reader, i can see him hiding it between the pages of your book

one day, you pick up your book to read, and the note falls on your lap

it's a love letter written on a piece of blueprint paper; there’s a little bit of oil smudged on the side of it

he got distracted while he was working on something because you were the only thing he could think about

his love letters never fail to make your heart flutter

sometimes they make you cry

he's quite sentimental

leo always tells you he does better writing down his feelings than he is saying it out loud because he can organize his thoughts better

you know that leo has a hard time with that because of how he grew up

when you guys have an argument, which isn't very often, he writes his feelings down on paper

he's always quick to apologize if he did something wrong, and the notes help him form the apology that you deserve, and you're quick to forgive him

once, you were super angry after an argument, so you locked yourself in your shared bedroom

you needed to calm yourself down

the both of you much too angry and stubborn to make a compromise

as your recollecting yourself, 40 minutes in, a folded piece of paper slips from under the door

the letter has teardrop stains, and the ink is slightly smudged

on the paper, it's all his thoughts written out in the best way he can explain them

after reading what he wrote, you quickly deemed that whatever you were fighting about was silly, and you guys made up

you love his spontaneous notes so much that you do them back

you guys have a game of who can find the most creative hiding spot for your notes

one time you found one tapped to the inside of the toilet cover

you found it hilarious

you throw folded post-its with messages in his tool belt

he finds them during the day while he's working on something

after you joined in on the fun, he scatters notes in random places, and every few days, you find a new message hidden somewhere randomly

they're just so sweet; there’s never a time where they don't make you smile

gifts

this is a given

it's not a leo headcanon if gift-giving isn't included

he would make you things like roses from scrap metal to literal furniture

if you have a lot of jewelry, he will make you a cute jewelry box

if you're a big book reader, he'll make you bookcases to support your book collection

he's always giving you little trinkets that he made with leftover materials from projects

he loves making things for you and gets upset when you decide to buy something from ikea instead of asking him

"babe, why would you buy that? I could have just made it for you!"

when he's on his way from returning on his quest, sometimes he'll find something that reminds him of you in a store, and he'll buy it

when he has the money for it, he'd buy you a star :(

says that he spent even more money to buy an extra bright star

because "you're the sun in my universe"

brb gonna cry

also, he'd gift you a bond bracelet

you know, those bracelets where every time you tap on it, it makes the other person's bracelet vibrate

the both of you get anxious when one of you goes on quests, so the bracelets bring the other person who's at home comfort

because when you tap back, at least he knows you're alive and vice versa

one of the best gifts you've ever received from him was your engagement ring

he made it himself

he took so much care and effort into making it

imagine leo forging your wedding ring himself??? i'm in spain with no s

he was so nervous that you wouldn't like the style, so he had piper casually bring it up to you

piper was so nonchalant about it that you didn't even think twice about the question

the ring has the prettiest gemstone or diamond (whatever you prefer)

you cried so hard when he told you he made it himself that you couldn't even say yes to his proposal clearly

he makes both of your wedding bands too

he carves a saying that's dear to the both of you on the inside

this is nothing to do with anything but imagine when you guys have kids, he makes animals out of pipe cleaners for them i'm gonna cry, brb pt 2

overall, whether he makes the present himself or not, he puts a lot of effort and care into it

every gift has a meaning and a place dear to your heart

cooking for you

leo is canoningly a good cook

he loves cooking for you

and you love eating what he makes

he's usually busy on the weekdays, so he cooks on the weekends

you guys always joke that he'd be the cutest househusband

you got him an apron for Christmas as a joke gift one year, and he wears it all the time

there's something so charming about him wearing an apron with a funny saying like "Mr. Good Lookin is Cookin" or with like a ripped out shirtless guy in front of it

you giggle every time you see him wearing it

oh, no matter how many times you've seen it, it's still so bizarre when he takes out hot trays from the oven with his BARE hands

everything he makes tastes amazing

he makes all kinds of food and is always trying something new

if you tell him what you’re craving, he’ll cook it for you

once he woke you up to ask if you wanted ribs… it was 3 am but like, of course, you wanted some

unless you're vegetarian or vegan, sorry, HAHA

often though, he does make Mexican food

it reminds him of when his mom was alive

he always has some story to share

every time he makes caldo de pollo (chicken soup), he always talks about how his mother would make it in the summer and that when he was little, he would always complain about eating hot soup in hot weather

you know he doesn't notice his constant telling of this story, but you don't mind

it's so bittersweet when he talks about his mom

through the cooking of his traditional food, you feel closer to him and his late mother

the memories he shares with you makes your eyes sting with tears

especially when leo says how much he wishes that esperanza could have met you

sorry, that was a little emo

also, leo usually wakes up earlier than you

he knows you're a sleepyhead, so he'll cook breakfast for you

so that when you're running around in the morning trying to get dressed and your things together

you never leave the house hungry because there's always a tupperware filled with breakfast, and if he has enough time, he'll fix you something to take for lunch too

if you come home late from work or school, he'll make dinner even if he's tired to surprise you

so many times you've come home from a shitty day at work or school, and the small table where you guys eat your meals is all set up with your favorite food

leo greets you by peeking his head into the hallway from the kitchen, tossed curls, cheerful brown eyes, and a bright grin

"I hope you're hungry," he says, despite knowing that you are hungry

and then you guys talk and laugh together over a delicious meal

compliments

leo's really observant

he notices when you’re in a bad mood, even if you try not to show it

he also notices when you change little things about your appearance

if you get a haircut or you get your nails done, he'll comment on it right away

especially outfits

if you buy something new, he'll complement it

imagine standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself in your new outfit

leo comes behind you, his hands coming around your waist

he'll pepper kisses on your neck, a soft hum leaving his lips as he meets your eyes in the mirror

"is this new, mi amor?" he asks, hands running up your sides

once you affirm that it is a new dress or shirt, he'll smile and tell you how beautiful you look in it

maybe says he'd rather see it off of you wink wink

there's never a day where he doesn't compliment you

he thinks you're the prettiest person in the world

you've caught him staring at you lovingly plenty of times

he's just asking himself how did he manage to get someone as beautiful and amazing as you

you always squirm under his gaze and playfully ask what is he looking at

"you're so pretty, mi amor. I can't help it."

AHHH!!!!

alongside the endearment of mi amor, he'd always call you bonita and hermosa

you're so sweet to him, and he can't help but tell you how much you mean to him every chance he gets

surprises

leo is an acts of service kind of guy

i think he'll spontaneously do things to make you happy

if you've been busy studying for finals or just beat up from a day at work

he'll draw you a bath

or he'll cut up some fruit for you and leave it at your desk

he randomly buys you flowers

he never needs an occasion to buy your flowers

it'll be a regular tuesday, leo just happened to walk past a store with flowers displayed in the front, and he thought about how bright your smile would be if he showed up with a bouquet

I feel like he's pretty introverted, enjoys being at home with you

the both of you are pretty broke for a while, so a lot of dates were at home

leo made the most of it

you guys will have nice dinners at home

he'll set the table nicely, set the mood with candles

he'll redecorate the space so well you feel like you're at an actual restaurant

and of course, his food is amazing

breakfast in bed is another thing he'd do for you unsolicited

especially if you guys had a looong night wink wink

you're woken up by his still groggy voice, fluttering kisses on your cheeks

you open your eyes to see he's set a tray with your favorite breakfast on top of the bed

the two of you will eat breakfast together, which usually leads to you staying in bed for the rest of the day

just enjoying the warm cocoon your sheets create around the both of you

overall, he's super observant and caring, and he goes the extra mile to make sure you're happy because he knows you do the same

anyways, does anyone know where I can get a leo?

masterlists taglist: @nct127bee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @cartocns @Slytherclaw-kitten @idk-bye-no @percysbluehairbrush @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @drayshadow @ashookykooky

#my writing #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus fanfic #heroes of olympus fanfiction #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez one shot #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez drabble #leo valdez headcanon

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kj-1130 · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on.

As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up.

The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could.

Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room.

But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse.

He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life.

You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together.

About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation.

Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday.

“Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully.

“I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.”

“It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

“Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-” “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off.

“Who is this guest?”

“Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man.

“Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

“Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching.

Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in.

“New York.”

He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays.

“Washington D.C”

A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following.

“Sokovia.”

The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land.

“Lagos.”

“That’s enough,” Steve interrupts.

Ross nods in response and begins his speech again.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking.

“The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

“So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states.

“Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.”

The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re a little young to be an intern.”

“You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder.

Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder.

You look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.”

Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you.

“Don’t touch me,”

Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have.

“So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.”

“I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator.

“Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

“Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap.

Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey says.

You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere.

“Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

“There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

“I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

“We would protect you,” Vision promised.

“Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts.

“I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.

“Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.”

From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly.

You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team.

“Someone’s upset,” you hum.

You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle.

“Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.”

Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair.

“I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.”

You open the bottle and take a sip.

“What are you doing down here kid--”

“Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

“Just answer the question,” Tony snaps.

“I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.”

An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water.

“Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?”

“Not you too,” your father mutters.

You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely.

“Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks.

“Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

“Look,” Tony attempts.

“I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

“I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed.

It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read.

“You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands.

“Hey,” she quietly protests.

“Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek.

She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more.

Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours.

This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath.

“We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled.

Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side.

“Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47.

“Guess I’m spending the night then.”

“I have no problem with that.”

The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video.

“A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Nat what the fuck is going on?”

You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone. “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

“(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle.

“Okay, whatever. Bye.”

“(Y/n) c’mo--”

You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk. “You sound stressed.”

Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her.

“I am.”

You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly.

“There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging.

MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close.

“They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.”

There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up.

“C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face.

Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

She turned around and grabbed your shoulders.

“We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work.

It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back.

When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it.

Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw.

“What the hell happened?”

The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers.

Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs.

“You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?”

Both men looked away and avoided your gaze.

“You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

“Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

“Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!”

You turned to your father with pleading eyes.

“Where are they, Tony?”

“Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

“Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?”

You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them.

Just when things were alright.

“(Y/n)?”

“What M.I.A?”

You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

“There’s a package for you.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone.

Hey sweetheart.

It was Natasha’s handwriting.

I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now.

I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me.

I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart.

But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will.

I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call.

You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand.

You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

Text

Suna x reader: Final part (smut)

Here’s the final part to my Suna series! I wasn’t satisfied with my fluff version of the ending (which you can read here if you’re interested) so I decided to write a more smutty version.

Warning: degradation, angry sex, light choking, mostly just a lot of degrading lol

I genuinely think this is the hottest fanart I’ve ever seen of him I can barely look at it without ✨butterflies✨.

Art creds go to @minghuaa_art on twitter!

Despite Kita seeing you that day in the car, Suna still asked to keep whatever was between you a secret. That was fine with you--you didn’t particularly want a boyfriend, especially with the second semester of college work picking up. You still got to see him pretty often, hooking up in his car or your dorm at least three nights a week or more. Never the frat house; apparently his roommates were annoying.

It was nice. Easy. Far easier than you ever expected friends with benefits to be. And beyond the sex, you loved talking to Suna; laying together on your tiny bed, legs tangled, while he explained the new music he was listening to, or walking together to the cafeteria as he made you laugh so hard that water came out of your nose.

The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first.

Suna was an abnormally horrific texter, barely ever responding within the day, if at all. If you ever wanted to get in contact with him, you’d have to call directly. And honestly even then he didn’t have the best track record.

What was more frustrating was that it was always on his time. He would text you asking to hang out that night, and you would say yes, and then he wouldn’t respond until the following afternoon with some vague excuse about being busy. The first few times it happened, you got so mad that you didn’t respond to his calls, until he showed up at your dorm with panda express and forced you to watch Tokyo Ghoul with him.

He had apologized...but it didn’t stop happening. It made you feel like you were some sort of side whore, who he called when he was bored and had nothing better to do. Like you were second best to everything else he had going on in his life.

You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him.

You liked the way he would stare at you while you talked, actually listening and curious as to what you had to say. You liked the way he hugged you after a few days of not seeing each other, burying his face in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough to you. You liked the way he laughed, both the usual, quiet chuckles and the rare snorting wheezes. You liked the way his mouth looked when he smoked, the way he moaned your name when he came, the way he could make you laugh at anything at any time.

You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself.

After one month of hanging out with Suna, you were planning on meeting up and going to see a movie. Both of you were more homebodies, preferring to stay in rather than party, but you had decided that you wanted to try and expand your horizons once again. The movies seemed like a happy compromise.

The film was something Suna had been talking about for a while, an action thriller that honestly looked like shit but got good audience reviews because of all the flashy fight scenes. He had been so excited when it came out that you hadn’t been able to say no to going, especially not after he pried you with food.

He was coming to get you at 6 pm, and your last class ended at 3pm, which gave you plenty of time to get ready. You stared at the face of your teacher on the screen within your zoom class, zoning out as he explained the flood system around the school. You glanced over as your phone buzzed, a message from Suna popping up on the screen.

Suna

Wha u doying rit now?

You

What?

Suna

Sorr little drynk

You

You’re drunk?

Suna

im at psrty

You

Are we still seeing a movie tonight?

There was no response, and you felt your stomach drop. You didn’t even notice as your teacher ended class and logged you off the meeting. Suna was at a party at 3 in the afternoon, drunk, and didn’t seem to remember you had plans. You swallowed, shoving your phone aside as you ground your teeth. Why was he so frustrating?

You stood up, angry at yourself for caring, furious at Suna for making you feel this way, for being such a piece of shit. You knew what party he was probably at--Kiyoko had said she was going at some point--and suddenly you were moving before you could think about it.

You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course.

You didn’t give yourself time for nerves as you strode from your dorm and headed in the direction of the frat house, following a steady stream of people already going in that direction. You knew it was Friday, but how the fuck were so many people already getting ready to party when it was literally 3:30????

It wasn’t overly crowded in the house when you entered, but enough where it was confusing as you wandered through the crowd. You snatched two drinks from the counter, downing them as fast as possible as you searched for Suna in the crowd. You’d need to be at least tipsy before having this confrontation.

You found him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to who you recognized to be Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita, and Iwaizumi--all who you knew through Kiyoko. There were a few others you didn’t know, and they were all clearly drunk out of their minds.

As you entered the room, Suna met your eyes for a brief moment, but then they moved on without a reaction. He didn’t care at all that you had come to find him, or that he had never responded to your text.

The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back.

Instead of talking to Suna, you decided to get wasted. An hour after first coming to the party, you were deep in a game of beer pong and you had a pleasant warmth in your gut, the world a little hazy. You felt braver, more angry, and suddenly all you wanted to do was track down that yellow eyed idiot and slap him.

“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu.

Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?”

You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged.

“He’s over there,” Atsumu pointed towards the kitchen, and you felt all the blood drain from your face as you followed his gaze. Sitting in a chair, his back to you, was Suna...and on his lap was a beautiful blonde girl with her hands in his hair as she kissed him fiercely.

You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to go get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue.

Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt.

As you headed down the hall, Atsumu grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “So...you and Suna huh?” He said, a strange smile on his face.

“What are you--?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows.

“We aren’t together.”

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?”

“I--”

“What the fuck.”

All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?

“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?”

Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”

“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.”

Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”

“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading away down the hall.

When he was out of sight, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl.

You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?”

“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!”

“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!”

“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”

You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--”

Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him in silence.

Suna gave a dark chuckle. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

You barely had time to react before he gripped your chin, kissing you roughly and shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, and the sound snapped whatever restraints Suna had. His hands ran down the back of your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you through the nearest door into a random bedroom. He kissed down your neck as he kicked the door shut, and you gasped as he tossed you on the bed.

Your eyes slid down his chest and across his toned stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head, completely at a loss for what to do. You could feel the heat pulsing between your legs, making your heart race and your body tremble. But this was wrong. Right?

You didn’t have anymore time to think about it as Suna gripped your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” He snarled, yanking your leggings off and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. His eyes darkened as they swept over the pair of lacy underwear you had worn, sliding towards your center where you kept your thighs clenched tightly together.

He didn’t say a word as he forced your legs apart, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, yanking down your underwear, and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. You shuddered as his hot breath caressed you, and he ran lazy circles along the inside of your thighs with his long fingers.

“Fuck…” He murmured under his breath before looking up at you. “Do you want me to--”

“Stop teasing me Suna,” you groaned, shifting your hips, and he laughed darkly.

“Fine.”

You practically screamed at the first sweep of his tongue, managing to turn your face into a pillow to muffle your noises as he worked around your clit and used his fingers in your core. You bucked your hips up into his face, and his laughter vibrating through your body almost had you coming within the first minute.

You let out a low cry of protest as he pulled away, raising his head to glare at you. His mouth was covered in your juices, his hair rumpled and eyes glassy. He leaned over you, yanking away the pillow you had been using to cover your mouth and throwing it across the room.

“What are you--”

“I want to hear you begging for it,” he snapped, and you managed to roll your eyes before he shoved his fingers back into you.

“You’re so--ah!” You shuddered.

Over the course of a month of fucking each other, Suna had figured out exactly how to make you fall apart under his tongue and fingers, so it didn’t take long for him to work you into an early climax. Your legs shook, and you let out a series of moans as you came all over his mouth.

He got to his feet after making sure he had licked you completely clean, gazing down at you with possessive smugness.

“Why do you look so fucked out already? We’ve barely gotten started.”

You didn’t even argue as you got onto your knees on the bed, hands sliding into his hair as you kissed him angrily, unsaid words erupting. He allowed you to shove him onto the bed, and you focused on unzipping his pants and throwing them aside, ditching your shirt and bra along with it. His boxers went next, and then you had his dick in your hands, stroking it while Suna groaned.

“Here,” he panted, tossing you a condom, and you slid it over his cock just like he taught you. You positioned yourself over him, impatient, your knees on either side of his hips as you thrust yourself down on him in one go. You both moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside you.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, slowly rolling your hips as you rested your hands lightly on Suna’s chest. You went slow, taking the time to feel how deep he reached inside you, the movement on your clit enough to send tingles up the rest of your body.

Suna watched you ride him lazily, his yellow eyes half closed as he took in the way your naked body shifted to move on top of him.

“Ha, you’re doing so good...god--you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, and you glared down at him.

“You make me so...mad…” You managed between pants of pleasure, and Suna raised his eyebrows.

“You can still talk? I guess I’m not doing enough…”

Before you could protest, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he gripped your throat lightly.

“You’re such a little cumslut aren’t you?” He murmured in your ear, and you arched slightly. “Don’t you ever try and fuck someone else again, got it? You’re only allowed to come around my cock.”

You moaned in agreement, and Suna rolled you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He gave you no warning as he thrust back in, practically fucking you into the mattress.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he used his fingers to reach around and rub your clit, his other hand running along your breast. You could barely think through the pleasure, and the only coherent word you were managing to say was his name.

Suna leaned over you, yanking your head back to murmur in your ear. “You’re mine, got it?” His words were rough, and you clenched hard around his cock. You could feel your second orgasm approaching, and he could tell too by the way you shuddered around him. He paused in his motion, and you wiggled your hips in protest, trying to get him going again.

“Why’d you stop?” You snapped, glancing over your shoulder when he didn’t continue.

Suna grinned. “Beg for it, bitch.”

He moved slightly, letting you feel the friction, and you gasped in anger and pleasure. This bastard wanted to tease you, make you submit to him…

Despite knowing this, you broke almost immediately. “Please, Suna, please please, I need you so bad--”

Immediately, he picked up his pace once again, adding more pressure to your clit, and you jerked. “That’s a good girl.”

“Ah, ah, Suna, fuck, I love-- you, ahhh…” You cried, feeling moisture spill down your thighs as your stomach erupted for the second time that night.

For a moment he stilled, and you bit your lip in tired confusion. Did he want you to beg again? You weren’t sure you had another round in you.

You looked over to see him with a shocked expression on his face, but it quickly melted into smugness again once he caught you staring at him. “Of course you love me while I’m fucking you like this,” he growled finally. “It’s because you’re such a slut for it, right?”

Your mouth dropped open, but you didn’t have time to say anything as he started moving once again, making you yelp at the overstimulation. Had you said you loved him? Out loud? Oh my god…

“Have I fucked you stupid already?” he purred in your ear, pulling out of your dripping cunt before slamming back in and picking up his pace. You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his as all thoughts flew from your head.

“S-Suna I--” You could barely speak, it felt so good, despite the fact that you had already come. Twice.

He began to pant in your ear, groaning as his grip on your hips tightened.“F-fuck--” He grunted, arms sliding around your waist as he jerked and came.

You both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and Suna easily pulled the condom from his dick before tying it and tossing it in the trash. After a long moment, you rolled to your feet to padded over to where your clothes lay--until you realized that your leggings had a massive rip in them.

“Suna!” You cried, holding up the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, and had the decency to at least look vaguely guilty.

“Sorry.”

“What do I wear?!”

“Here.” He threw the shirt he had been wearing earlier at you, and you gave him a glare.

He had already wiped himself down with the tissues on the counter, and had pulled on his sweatpants once again, leaving him shirtless. His eyes swept lazily down your still naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and you crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Suna,” You snapped, but finally pulled his shirt over your head, not seeing another option. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you said, before heading out the door without waiting for a response.

The bathroom was thankfully right down the hall, and thankfully empty. You didn’t feel very guilty about fucking Suna when you should have been communicating in a healthy way, but you definitely still felt mad.

After you had wiped all the fluids from your inner thighs and core, you headed back to the room to grab the rest of your stuff.

You found Suna on his phone lying on the bed, but he looked up as you came in.

“Where are you going?” He said as you gathered your stuff, and you huffed.

“Back to my dorm.”

“Wait,” he lunged out of the bed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t go.”

“Now you want to spend time with me?”

“Just...stay. Please.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Fine.”

His expression relaxed into a happy smile, and he dragged you onto the bed with him before flicking out the lights. You weren’t sure what time it was exactly, but you were sure it was far past two in the morning. Your eyelids drooped as Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

You were right on the edge of sleep when he murmured, “Did you mean it?”

Immediately you were awake; you knew exactly what he meant. “U-um--” You hadn’t worked out any of the problems between you two, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same way. How were you supposed to admit to loving him like this?

“It’s fine,” he finally muttered. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

You swallowed. “Yes. I did mean it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt Suna tense around you.

“Really?”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to say it. “Yes... I love you.”

You felt his sigh against your air, ticking the little hair on the back of your neck. His hand slid across your stomach while the other gently began to stroke your hair, and the movement had you relaxing despite the tears that had built up at his lack of response.

You closed your eyes and set it aside; you would deal with it tomorrow. Now, it was time for sleep.

“I love you too.” You heard, so soft that it was almost just a breath of air.

It was probably just a dream.

#suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #haikyuu suna #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #smut

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 4 years ago

Text

At 11:08pm In The Music Room, I Was Saved (Part 2)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Part 1

A/N: second and last part, lovelies. Thank you again anon for this prompt (I may have, once again, deviated from your original idea bear with me), and thank you @venablemayfairgoode for helping me figure out the end (tw: the death of a dog is mentioned :))))))) ). As always, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count: ≈ 7 000

You were so fucking pissed. Also, you couldn’t stop crying. The world had ended on a beautiful late spring afternoon and now, for some reason, you were trapped in a gloomy building with people you didn’t know and the woman who had broken your heart bossing you around.

And the worst was, you had been so relieved to know she had survived. And you shouldn’t have. But the tears you had cried on the plane to Outpost 3 had not only been for your family and friends; they had also been for her. They had mostly been for her. And you hated yourself because of that.

She looked different. Her clothes were darker, her hair was darker, her eyes were darker and they were glazed. They looked as if they were made of stone. Tourmaline maybe. Something bad must have happened to her, but you decided you didn’t care. Bad things had happened to you, too, and one of them she had caused.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, voice very deep and very slow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” you sobbed.

“You were assigned at Outpost 2.”

You were so mad at her. Had she done this? Ripped you from your family and sent you to this dark place to spend the rest of your life consumed by grief and guilt and hatred? She couldn’t have done this, she wouldn’t have done this but then again and was that panic in her eyes? It was gone before you had time to take a good look at it, but you knew her. You knew how to read her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, as if you had chosen to, as if it had been your decision.

“Because some rude guys barged into my flat and shoved me into a plane,” you sobbed, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “I don’t want to be here,” you repeated.

“You should’ve been sent to Outpost 2,” she said. She was trying so hard to hide the confusion from her face, but you saw it, and you saw that flash in her eyes again and it was panic.

Suddenly it hit you: how could she know where you should have been sent? How could she –

“Did you…” It was hard to speak. Your throat was too tight. Your eyes widened with horror, and hers hardened. “Are you the reason why I’m here?”

You were vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was staring at you and Wilhemina. You should have felt ill-at-ease, should have felt shy. But all you could feel was anger.

“I don’t want to be here!” you cried again, but this time it was fierce. This time it was a cry of rage.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the ground. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Better sad than dead,” she said coldly. And then she proceeded to ignore you as she explained the house rules.

You barely heard what she said. You were burning, and you couldn’t stop your tears from falling. This was not happening. You were in a dream. You would wake up and everything would be alright. You would count to ten and the nightmare would end.

You counted to ten. It didn’t end.

What you did hear of Wilhemina’s speech sounded ridiculous. No technology? No sex? Death punishment for intimacy? People basically being your slaves? Her eyes were too cold. They were glazed. This wasn’t the Wilhemina you knew. The Wilhemina you knew had used cruelty for protection. This one used cruelty for fun.

A few people protested, but the protests didn’t last long. This Wilhemina was just as scary as the one you knew.

And then she was leaving, to the sound of her cane, every tap a stab to your heart. A Grey led you to your room and you collapsed on your bed, hugged your pillow, and cried.

The next few days you didn’t leave your room often. You felt so empty. You spent most of your time lying on your bed and grieving the people you had lost. You got up for lunch and dinner. Sat at the table and stared at your plate as the others tried to make small talk. The food cube had no taste. It felt like jelly in your mouth. You hated it. You hated having to swallow it. You hated how it never soothed the hunger in your stomach.

You sat on the left side of the table. Wilhemina sat at the head of it. The light from the candles would glint off your food cube and fork. Coco sat on your left, a girl named Mary on your right. Coco would do most of the talking. Complaining, really. Sometimes – but only sometimes – you would glance in Wilhemina’s direction. Once or twice, she met your eyes. Hers were cold and like a black hole.

After the first week your tears finally subsided. You spent more time in the music room with the others, playing board games, reading, talking. Coco was a bitch, but she made you laugh, and you soon befriended the girl named Mary. She was about your age, was very shy and didn’t speak often. She kept in her pocket a photo of the dog she had owned and loved more than anything else, a small, sweet thing with big black eyes named Sam.

You didn’t know how Wilhemina spent her days. You barely ever saw her. You could forget her, you thought, if you didn’t dream of her every night. You would forget her if only your stupid heart would stop skipping a beat and break into a gallop every time you heard the familiar sound of her cane, letting you know she was coming, she was coming! in a second you would see her and be near her and hear her voice. You would forget her if she wasn’t your first thought every damn morning when you woke up. If when she was near you, you didn’t feel like you were burning and suddenly became aware of every single sound that was her, the rustle of her dress, her breathing, her heart beating, her eyelashes fluttering, everything.

You barely ever saw her, but when you did, time stopped, and it lasted forever.

You fell into a routine. Aimless, dreary. Getting out of bed every morning. Eating your food cube. Making small talk with the other residents. A teary-eyed Mary showing you her picture of Sam. Trying not to think, not to remember. It went on like this for a week and a half, until two Greys were found having sex and were sentenced to death.

It was Mary who told you the news, just before dinner. At first you thought she was joking. But then every soul at the Outpost was talking about it and even Coco seemed scared.

You didn’t know the Grey girl, but you had spoken to the boy once or twice. His name was Mark. He smiled at you every time you would meet him in a corridor.

You ate your food cube in complete silence and shock. When dinner was over, when Wilhemina stood up and walked off, you didn’t think. You stood up, too, and followed her.

She didn’t become aware of your presence until she was halfway down the corridor to her room. You saw her slow down, come to a halt. She tapped her cane on the floor, then turned on her heel.

Time slowed down. You noticed every detail, even the smallest ones. The way the candlelight glided over her cheekbones as she turned. You were still so attuned to her, every inch of her.

You stopped breathing as her eyes locked with yours. And it would have been so easy, to take a step forward, to wrap your arms around her waist, to pull her close and go back home. It seemed her eyes were pleading you to do just that.

But then she blinked, and her eyes turned cold. Glazed. Tourmaline. You felt your body stiffen.

“May I speak to you?” you asked, almost a hiss. Then you added, “Ms Venable.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at you, raised her chin. “I do not care to hear what you have to say,” she said coldly.

You took a step forward and snarled, “I will say it. You can either listen to me here, or in your room. Office. Whatever.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second you thought she was going to slap you. You had seen her slap some of the other residents who had dared question her rules. That was one of the things the new Wilhemina had no problem doing.

But she merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and led you to her room.

You tried not to look. At the bed, perfectly made, at the pillow where she laid her head every night. At the vanity where she did her hair and make-up every morning. All the small rituals you knew so well.

It hurt. Merely standing there in her room felt like someone was crushing your heart between cold fingers.

You came to a halt in the middle of the room and tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. Wilhemina stopped in front of you, rested both her hands on the head of her cane.

How did she look so different? Why was her face so hard and so cold? She reminded you of the ancient statues of Greek or Italian gods. The powerful, lifeless stare. The dangerous power. How she could destroy you – how she had destroyed you – with one word or one tap of her cane on the floor.

You searched her face for the light, for the fear, for the love, the shyness and the boldness, the desire to be completely, truly seen and loved. You found nothing.

“Well?” she asked, annoyed, after a while.

You cleared your throat. “I heard you’re gonna have Mark and that Grey girl executed tomorrow morning.”

“You heard right,” she mocked.

You cleared your throat again. Your right hand twitched at your side. “Why?”

She made an annoyed noise. “You know why. They didn’t follow the rules. They put their own little disgusting needs first and compromised the group. We cannot have more mouths to feed.”

“Disgusting needs,” you repeated automatically. You took one step towards her and raised your head defiantly. “I don’t remember you calling sex ‘disgusting’ when we were doing it.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Something that almost looked familiar.

“Don’t be crude,” she hissed.

“You cannot have those two Greys killed,” you went on, ignoring her. “That’s murder, Wilhemina.”

Her name dropped from your mouth before you had time to think. You paused. She didn’t react.

“I know you’re better than that,” you added, taking another step towards her. Closer. You wanted to reach out and touch her. It seemed to you she was leaning forward, forward – towards you. It seemed to you her eyes flicked to your lips.

How you had missed her. How you missed her still. How you wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand an explanation as to why she had destroyed your world, stolen all the stars from your night sky. How had she dared, who did she think she was, and what had happened to her that had stolen all the light from her eyes?

“For God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you cried when still she didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move, “you can’t kill two people for being in love!”

“Why not?”she hissed, low and dangerous, like a snake.”What’s so special about love?”

“You know what’s so special about love. You felt it.” A pause. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You may think you were good at hiding your feelings, but you weren’t.”

Wilhemina’s gaze hardened. “Those two Greys will die tomorrow at dawn,” she answered emotionlessly.

You raised your hands in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?” you cried. Again, she didn’t react. Her silence only fueled your anger. “If you do that,” you went on, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from yelling the words, “if you have them killed, you’ll be walking down a path I cannot follow you on.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “But I guess you don’t care. Who am I kidding? You don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You made that clear months ago. But ask yourself this question, Wilhemina: will you be able to sleep knowing you’ve killed two innocent people?”

Oh, she would. Without a doubt she would. She knew it and you knew it and you saw it on her face. Yours turned sickly pale.

“Okay,” you mumbled, lowering your head in defeat. “Okay. I – you know what, I –“ You met her eyes again. “I don’t even know how I could fall in love with you in the first place.”

She swallowed, but her face remained blank. But that familiar something flashed in her eyes again, something sad, that looked almost like the Wilhemina she used to be.

You knew confronting her would likely make her shut down. You knew that. But you were only human, for God’s sake, and you had been hurt and betrayed and it was a well-known fact, that anger was stronger than Man.

So you took yet another step towards her and clenched your fists.

“I have questions,” you growled, “and you’re going to answer them. Why am I here? What made you think you could dump me with no explanation? Did you even love me, or was it all a game to you?”

By the end of your little outburst you were breathless, and Wilhemina, the Wilhemina you had tried to reach and caught a glimpse of, had been roughly locked away.

“Say one more word,” she enunciated, glazed, empty eyes staring right into yours,” and I’ll have you arrested and whipped every day until you meet your pitiful end.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off. “Don’t forget who you are, Y/N. I’m the only one who has authority here. If you question me or my rules again, I’ll make sure that insolent tongue of yours is nicely severed from the rest of your body. And don’t think I won’t enjoy watching.”

Your whole body was shaking. But it wasn’t with fear. It was with rage, and with something else you didn’t like at all, for that something else was love. Love that was terrified and aching because this wasn’t her, this wasn’t right, and part of you desperately wanted to make it right again.

Someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened.

Don’t, you screamed at Wilhemina in your head. Ignore whoever it is. Talk to me. Let me in, let me help you, let me –

“Yes?” Wilhemina called.

The door opened, and Mary shyly stepped into the room. “I, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said in her sweet, low voice. “But, um, Y/N, I need your help with something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you asked her, your gaze not leaving Wilhemina’s face, your voice shaking, your body shaking with rage and love and ache.

“Obviously it cannot,” Wilhemina answered, eyes boring into you. “Or else little Mary wouldn’t have been brave enough to push that door open.”

Mary shot her a scared glance and immediately lowered her eyes again.

Send her off, you begged Wilhemina. Make me stay.

Her gaze was too intense, it was too cold, too dark. You lowered your head and turned to Mary.

“I lied,” Mary whispered once she had closed the door behind you two. She glanced up at you with a smile. “I don’t need your help with anything. I just thought I should come and rescue you.”

You swallowed. Your body was still shaking, and you couldn’t unclench your fists. “Right.”

“I heard her threaten you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you retorted sharply.

Wilhemina wouldn’t hurt you, you thought. She had only tried to scare you, to push you away. She would never carry out her threat.

But then again. You didn’t know what this new Wilhemina was capable of. Fear vaguely sang in your chest. Maybe she had meant every word.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Mary was saying, “please tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.”

You thanked her, told her you wanted to be alone, and went to your room.

Wilhemina had decided the execution would be public to set an example. All the residents of Outpost 3 gathered in the music room and the two Greys who were to die were ordered to sit down on their knees in the middle of the room. They were both crying. Pathetic. Weak. Wilhemina looked down on them and smiled to herself.

A guard walked in with a gun. The Grey boy whimpered.

Someone – the hairdresser – mumbled something, a protest probably, but he was too scared to say it loudly. The old lady who had once been a star nodded at Wilhemina and gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Wilhemina ignored her.

You were standing in front of her slightly on her left, by Mary’s side. Wilhemina was trying not to pay you attention, but somehow you were the only person she could see.

You spent an awful lot of time with Mary, she had noticed. Laughing together, talking together, napping together. Good thing for you. Mary was just the type of person who would treat you right. She’d be kind, and happy, and healthy, and enough.

The Grey boy said something, pleaded for his life, probably. Wilhemina didn’t care. She didn’t listen. She nodded to the guard, and he crossed to him, holding the gun in front of him.

Wilhemina saw Mary grab your hand, saw you touch your shoulder to hers. Oh, you would be alright.

She didn’t know why, but her eyes had started to sting. Her hands were shaking. She willed them not to. They would not stop.

The guard raised his gun, pointed it at the Grey boy’s head, but Wilhemina didn’t see him, not really. She saw you turn your head and look at her, your eyes glossy and pleading, your hand holding Mary’s, and Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath and felt tears pool in her eyes for she had loved and loved you and she had lost you. And now she was losing you again.

But she couldn’t go back, not now. She would lose her authority, she would be laughed at. And besides, she didn’t want to. This execution was the right thing to do. It would make everyone at the Outpost fear and respect her. They would bow their heads to her and they would hate her but they would never, never laugh at her.

There was a low but fierce shout, “Stop!” Your voice.

The guard lowered his arm slightly. He looked at you, confused, then at Wilhemina, awaiting orders. You stepped forward, letting go of Mary’s hand, came to a halt as if you weren’t sure what to do. A second passed. Then you crossed to Wilhemina, cupped her face in your hands, searched her eyes and murmured, “I love you.”

Something inside of her melted. The warmth from your touch and the warmth from your voice seeped into her and turned ice into water. The water washed down everything and left her insides dripping wet and glinting in the sun like after a hurricane.

You had spoken too low for the others to hear, but they saw the change on Wilhemina’s face. They saw her eyes widen and the light weave in as if she had opened a blind to let the sun in. They saw life and emotion settle back on her face and soften it.

For the first time since the world had ended, since you had walked into this music room sobbing and looked up and met Wilhemina’s eyes, you found her again. And you fell in love with her all over again.

You tried to give her a smile, and it was small and quivering, but it was genuine. It was fond. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as she searched your eyes, wondering, hoping, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek and you caught it with your thumb. You were crying, too, but you smiled again, stroke her cheek. You felt the tension leave your shoulders.

The gunshot echoed off the walls as loud as a crack of thunder. It made everyone in the room jump. The Grey girl screamed as Mark slumped onto the floor at the guard’s feet. The guard moved his hand, pointed his gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.

The second gunshot was louder, somehow. It deafened you and left a ringing in your ears. Your hands fell from Wilhemina’s face as you both turned to stare at the two corpses. Blood slowly pooled around them and shone faintly in the candlelight.

The guard met your horrified gaze and shrugged. “Following orders,” he said nonchalantly. “It was taking too long.”

Wilhemina was staring down at the two dead bodies with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked up at the guard, and her eyes were glazed again.

“I didn’t order you to shoot,” she said coldly.

“You did,” the guard argued.

“She told you to stop,” Wilhemina said, nodding at you, her voice growing angry now.

The guard shrugged again. “I only take my orders from you.” He raised his gun and held it to his chest, a defiant look in his eyes.

Someone in the room was crying softly. You didn’t know who. Your mind had gone numb.

Wilhemina turned away from you. Slowly, regally, she walked to the corpses, her dark, glazed eyes fixed on the boy’s head. She stopped in front of him and tapped her cane on the ground. Then she gave orders to carry the corpses outside and burn them.

Dinner was silent that night. You swallowed your food cube and drank your water. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. Coco tried to diffuse the tension with a few sly remarks that made some of the residents laugh nervously. When dinner was over, you excused yourself and went to your room.

You lay on your bed and prayed for sleep, but sleep, unsurprisingly, didn’t come. You turned and turned until you gave up. You sat up with a groan and buried your face in your hands.

Blood, slowly pooling. The two bodies, not moving. Wilhemina’s eyes, widening. A tear rolling down her face, that you caught with your thumb. You couldn’t chase those images from your mind.

It hadn’t been her fault, not really, you told yourself. She would have spared them in the end. You knew it. Without a doubt.

You buried your fingers in your hair, dug your nails into your skull. She would have spared them, for the Wilhemina you knew had come back, if only for a few seconds – and she had been hopeful, and you had been, too.

And you knew you should still be mad, you knew it was too early to forgive her. But you were ready to surrender and fall back into her arms the second she’d want you back. If she ever decided she wanted you back.

There was a whisper, in your head, that assured you she did.

At 11:00pm you gave up on trying to sleep. You got up and went to the music room, hoping someone would be there and would like to talk to help you pass the time. Maybe Coco, for she would make you laugh. Or Mary, for her kindness would soothe you.

There was only one person, and it was Wilhemina. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. You thought it was because of annoyance, or disappointment maybe. Bullshit, your heart told you. She had been the one you had wanted to find.

Wilhemina was sitting in an armchair, her hands resting on the head of her cane, her eyes fixed on the fire. She raised her head when she heard your footsteps, and met your eyes.

“What are you still doing up?” she asked, not unkindly.

“There’s no curfew I know of,” you replied, probably too sharply, but Wilhemina didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, then resumed her staring at the fire.

For a minute you hesitated. Going back to your room was the wisest and safest option. But before you had consciously taken your decision, your feet moved towards Wilhemina. A moth drawn to a flame. Always, when it came to her.

You sat on the armchair opposite the hearth from her. For a long moment there was only silence. The fire crackled lazily and warmed you up.

You glanced up at Wilhemina, only to realize she was staring at you. You quickly lowered your gaze, nervously shifted in your armchair, then glanced at her again.

The expression on her face wasn’t closed, you noticed. There was a wistfulness to it, some sprinkles of curiosity, too. You felt hopeful again.

“So,” you said, assuming a casual tone as if you two were having a friendly conversation in a bar, “what’s your plan in the long run?”

Wilhemina watched you for a few seconds before she answered. Her voice was emotionless. “The Cooperative should contact me soon enough with new instructions.”

That’s not what you had meant. You had meant about her and you. But you let it drop.

“So you’re still following orders, uh?” you taunted. “I thought you were the only boss around here.”

“This is bigger than this outpost,” Wilhemina replied coldly. “This is about building a new, better world, where everyone is at their rightful place according to their worth and abilities.”

“What is my rightful place in this new world, do you think?” You waited, but no answer came.”What is yours?” you tried again. “Let me guess. You are the feared, hated leader. Making sure everyone respects you, making sure everyone survives. Noble work, but it sounds awfully lonely. Wouldn’t you rather fall asleep in somebody’s arms every night?”

Wilhemina’s expression hardened. She kept silent, which surprised you, and averted her eyes from your face to stare at the fire again.

You watched her. You watched the shadows the flames threw on her face. Followed the arch of her brow, the line of her mouth.

Had she done something to her hair, or was it the dim light? It was darker now. She had let you dye it once when you two had been dating. You had frowned at the smell and coughed and splashed the walls with tiny dots of orange. Wilhemina had tried to scold you, but she had burst into laughter instead, her hair piled on top of her head. She had let you wipe the dye splatters from her face and tuck her hair in a shower cap. And while the dye processed, she had sat on the couch reading and you had rested your head on her lap and grinned at her.

Wilhemina cleared her throat, bringing you back to reality.

“What you said earlier, did you really mean it?” she asked in a low voice, still staring at the fire. “Or were you only trying to save the Greys?”

You leaned forward, digging your elbows into your thighs. “I’ll answer that once you’ve answered my own question. Why did you leave me?”

A pause. An annoyed look.

“Because I felt like it,” Wilhemina replied.

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Because you felt like it?” You shook your head, anger rising in your chest. “I don’t believe you. I’ll ask it again. Why did you leave me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve just told you why. It’s not my fault you’re too proud to accept it.”

“Why did you leave me?” you repeated, clenching your fists.

Wilhemina made an angry noise. She tapped her cane on the floor, then slowly stood up. You jumped on your feet and followed her when she crossed the room and turned right down a corridor.

“Did you wake up one morning and realize you didn’t love me?” you called, as she opened the door to her room. You stepped inside after her. “You’d had your fun, but now it was time to plan the end of the world? Uh? Do you have any idea,” you growled, voice growing louder and angrier, “how it felt to watch you leave without even knowing what I did wrong?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Wilhemina said, voice quavering.

“Then why the fuck did you leave?” you growled, taking one step toward her. “Tell me! For fuck’s sake, I deserve an explanation!”

She couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. She was staring at the floor and her breathing was quickening at it always would when she was trying not to cry. And suddenly you were in the company of the Wilhemina you knew, the one you loved, the one who didn’t think she should be soft and kind but was still willing to try, for you.

“Elijah came to see me,” she answered, so low you barely heard it.

“So what?” you growled. “You fucked him and realized he was your one true love?”

She winced, and you bit your cheek, thinking that maybe you had gone a bit too far. But she deserved it, part of you thought. She had hurt you too badly.

You waited, but she didn’t add anything after that. So, rage beating inside your chest instead of your heart, you strode to her and planted yourself right in front of her, fuming, and she flinched but held her ground.

“Tell me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why did you leave me?”

She drew in a breath, turned away from you and crossed to her chest of drawers. You were about to yell at her when she opened one of the drawers, closed it again. She crossed back to you and dropped something into your hand.

A lighter. Small and black and plain. You stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“What…?”

Wilhemina had never been good with words. But when you two had been dating, she had been willing to open herself up to you in any way she could. Actions sometimes were easier, she had found.

You glanced up at her, then back down at the lighter in your palm. “I don’t understand,” you said.

Wilhemina had averted her gaze from you again. “I couldn’t pick it up from the floor,” she whispered brokenly.

It didn’t hit you all at once like a revelation. Instead it felt like something spreading inside your head. A bubble. Slowly inflating until it burst.

“What?”

Somehow, it was the only thing you could say.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders, raised her chin, built up her walls. She met your eyes and glared.

“You got what you wanted. Now leave before I feed you to the monsters outside.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but instead you burst into tears.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you sobbed, as Wilhemina stared at you in shock. She extended one hand towards you, hesitated, changed her mind. Her brow pushed up in confusion and concern as she waited for you to calm down, dying to touch and comfort you, but not daring to. She had lost you, after all. She hadn’t been enough.

Some people are just too fucked up to be loved, Elijah had said. She could hear his voice now as if he were saying it again, remembered his exact intonation, the way he had pronounced every syllable.

“It’s alright,” she tried after a little while. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” you sobbed, wiping your eyes.

“Elijah. I did the right thing for you.”

That made you burst into tears again. Except this time, you wrapped your arms around Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her close.

She stiffened against you, but you buried your face in her chest and held her tight and cried and cried at how blind you had been. Your heart broke, but this time it didn’t break for you. It broke for her. For how low her self-esteem was, how she had tried over and over again to be kinder and softer and yet had still been convinced loving her was a burden. Loving her had been the best thing in your whole goddamn life.

Tentatively, Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and rested her chin on top of your head.

“I’m gonna bring Elijah back from Hell and kill him,” you mumbled against her chest.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Wilhemina replied. “He was right. All he did was love you so much he only wanted the best for you.”

You shook your head, wailing as Wilhemina brought her free hand up to your head and started stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stuttered in your hair. “What for?” she asked, and you couldn’t see her face but you knew what her expression must be like right now, brow pushed up in confusion, eyes wide as she tried to think of something to say or do to help you calm down.

You sobbed against her chest and tightened your grip on her. “I’m so sorry he did this to you and I let him.”

“I don’t –“She paused, hesitated. “I don’t understand,” she breathed after a moment, which only made you cry harder.

You felt her body stiffen again. “No no no, please don’t cry,” she pleaded. Her hand hovered over your head, afraid to touch you now. “I’ll stop talking, I’m sorry, I’m going to shut up. But please don’t cry.”

You clung to her, clutching the back of her dress, wishing that you could… you didn’t really know what. Let her creep inside of you, let her nestle by your heart so the outside world could never hurt her ever again.

When you had calmed down enough to speak, you asked her what Elijah had told her exactly. You wanted to hear every word, so you could erase them from her brain and replace them with words of truth and love.

You had expected her to refuse, to shut down and keep silent. But to your utter surprise, she let out a shaky breath, pressed her cheek against your head, and started to speak.

It was barely a whisper, and at first she paused and hesitated every second or so; but then, words poured out of her, ashamed and painful. You closed your eyes against a fresh wave of tears as you listened.

It didn’t last long. When she was done, her whole body slackened and you tightened your grip on her, afraid she was going to collapse on the floor. She didn’t, though. She nuzzled your hair and sighed.

She hadn’t broken up with you because of you. She had done it for you. Or at least, she had thought so. And it made everything worse, for you had said hurtful things to her. Accused her of things that had never even crossed her mind. Rubbed salt on the wound.

Not your fault, said a voice in your head. You hadn’t known.

After a quiet moment had passed, you took a deep breath and pulled away. Wilhemina let out a faint noise of protest, but you cupped her face and locked eyes with her.

“Have you ever thought that, maybe,” you whispered, offering her a small, teary smile, “I’m the only one who can decide what and who’s enough for me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes widened a bit. You gave her another smile, then let go of her face and looked around the room.

“You said Elijah told you you could never be enough for me and you believed him,” you said, gathering unlit candles in your hands. “I know this kind of thoughts don’t go away easily. I know it takes time and work. But let me show you something.”

You came to a halt in front of Wilhemina and held out the lighter. She glanced at it, then met your eyes, frowning. You leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as you pulled away.

You smiled. “Let’s pretend these candles are my heart. Shush, let me finish. Sit down. Let me show you how you light up my heart.”

You set the first candle down on the bedside table. “Remember the day we met at the supermarket? I was blocking the aisle with my cart and you snapped at me. Told me my ass was too big for this world.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “My life was so boring before that day. I hadn’t realized it, but it lacked challenges, it lacked passion. It’s like my brain was asleep, and with just a few words, you awoke it.”

You flicked the lighter and lit the candle. The flame flickered, then grew. You glanced at Wilhemina, gave her a smile.

“Remember the first time we made love?” Wilhemina’s eyes were riveted on the burning candle. You bit your lower lip, set a second candle on the chest of drawers. “You were so nervous, and you tried to hide it, but Mina, honestly, I can tell you now, you weren’t very successful. You thought you would hurt me or not know how to pleasure me. Remember how many times you made me come that night? You’re a great lover, Mina. And you sure have talent in these fingers and tongue of yours,” you teased. Wilhemina’s eyes, wide and shining, flicked to you. “But do you know what you’re even better at? The way you take care of me after. The way you cannot seem to be able to stay away, how you always snuggle up to me and hold me and ask me if it was good.” You lit up the second candle.

You took a third one, put it on the floor by the door. “Remember my birthday?” you went on. “I’d spent the last one alone. You brought me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and a cake.”

“I ruined your birthday cake,” Wilhemina whispered sadly.

You shook your head, flicking the lighter again. “But you bought it. For me. To celebrate me.”

You crossed to the other side of the room, set two candles on the vanity. “I don’t know if you’re even aware you did it, but you’d always fluff my pillow when you’d make our bed in the morning. You’d never fluff yours. Only mine.”

Wilhemina let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s only one example of all the things you did that made me feel so loved. Like how you’d always buy pears even though you don’t like the taste of them, just because you knew I do. Or how you read the whole of War and Peace just because I said it’s one of my favorite books. That’s more than a thousand pages, Mina.” Your voice broke as your lips parted on a smile. “You didn’t even think it was that good. But you read the whole thing. Valentine’s Day. You said you hated Valentine’s Day. You bought me flowers and chocolates and tickets for Carmen. Front row center seats, Mina.”

You were crying again by now, but these tears were happy. You set the last candle by the bed. “You made sure I’d survive the Apocalypse. It was you, wasn’t it? I don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure it was you. I used to be mad at you for having saved me but left all my friends and family to die. But you saved me. Gave me another chance at life. Because you still cared about me.”

Wilhemina sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. You walked around the bed and took her hand.

The whole room was studded with bright, dancing dots of light, as if you had stuck your head into the night sky. Wilhemina’s hand was shaking, but she laced her fingers with yours and gave them a tight squeeze.

“So, you see,” you whispered, “see how bright you make my heart shine.”

A sob pushed out of Wilhemina’s throat. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, hugging herself as she cried. You leaned towards hers, bumping her shoulder with yours. For a while she didn’t move; then she, tentatively, laid her head on your shoulder. And then, as you did not protest, did not push her away, she slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

Her hand cupped your face and her mouth crashed against yours as she sobbed and you sobbed and kissed her fervently back. How you had missed this. How you had missed her. One of your arms wrapped around her shoulders to press her closer still, tongue sliding inside her mouth. You were shaking, entirely too hot and so, so alive.

Something seemed to break loose inside Wilhemina. She let out a noise like a whimper, and suddenly she was crying over and over again “I’m so sorry” and “please” and “don’t go”. You pulled away slightly, cupped her face to make her look at you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I forgive you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief as another sob pushed up her throat. “But what about Mary?” she hiccupped.

You frowned, stroking her cheek. “What about Mary?”

“And what about the two Greys?” she went on, voice growing frantic and breathless. “What about the rules? I’ll hurt you again, I’ll hold you back, I’m too fucked up –“

“None of that,” you shushed her gently.

“But I –“

“No.” A kiss on her mouth, slow and sweet, meant to reassure. You tugged softly at her lip, and she moaned, dug her fingers into your skin. She let out a breath that went all the way down into your lungs, and sank into you.

After a moment, she rested her cheek on your shoulder and opened her eyes to look at all the lighted candles. You held her, stroking the nape of her neck, rubbing circles on her back.

The candles were burning. They lit up the room.

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @coxmicbabygirl

#does reader forgive wilhemina too quickly in that one?#yes #but i want to give w all the love and no one but god can stop me #ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

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