#man this chapter is kind of depressing ;w;

[nine-of-spades]

Hey, to everyone who follows me: if you only ever read one thing I recommend, let it be this. Heed the tags, of course.

It's four chapters long (so far) and I desperately want to introduce Cordelia to the joy that is giving yourself a shitty, uneven undercut in front of the bathroom sink going on feeling alone. And also get both of them the hell out of there (there being the finishing school they're going to).

I cannot wait to see how things continue from here, thank you so much for sharing your writing with us OP!

next two chapters of imogene are up 🥳

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Tear stained pillow case - p4

Pairings - Drew Starkey x reader

Summary - Trying to forgive and forget

Warnings - a little angst, handjob. (18+)

A/n - wow wow it’s taken me so long to finish this chapter and honestly I wanted it to keep be angsty and depressing but I’m a sucker for happiness.

Part 3

Two weeks had gone by since you and Drew decided to move forward, it had been hard for you. Hard to let him back in, hard to trust, hard to let him touch you. But, even though it has been hard, the erratic beat of your heart and goosebumps that littered your silky skin when he was around was enough for you to know to push the negativity to the back of your mind.

You continued to tell yourself to take it slow and let the relationship start back up, you couldn’t jump back into the deep end. He was on board with everything you said, he gave you space when you needed it and he didn’t push you to talk when you didn’t want to.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought about their kiss. Especially today when he was doing an interview just across town. He had called you when he was leaving and straight away he could tell, you were very quiet on the phone he almost couldn’t hear your responses.

“Please babe”

“Drew… you kissed someone else, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy” you sighed over the phone, pacing your bedroom floor.

You had been on the phone for just under 10 minutes. He had a lot of work commitments. You’d seen each other twice, both times had been great, he took you to the park for a picnic and the other time he made you watch rom coms with an abundance of snacks.

“It was just a kiss”

“Just a kiss?”

“Wait.. I didn’t mean it like that”

“Just a kiss? To you it may have been just a kiss… to me you were throwing away 4 years of love and adoration”

Your fingers hit the side button, closing down the call with him. You felt sick, you always felt sick. It had never been like this when he was filming for outerbanks but then he met Odessa and was booked for a role with her, you obviously didn’t care if he had to kiss or act out sex scenes for a movie,

You were so proud of him and you wanted him to have the best career, but the moment people started shipping them together that’s when it started making you feel sick because you could feel it within yourself that he was slipping away.

“y/n”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by your Mum slinking in. She closed the door behind her and pulled you into a hug, brushing your hair from your face.

She guided you back to the bed and let you cry, tears staining her work blouse.

You didn’t want to keep crying over him, you wanted to forgive him and move on. But every time you looked at his lips the images of Odessa and him flooded you. You felt like you were drowning around him. And that couldn’t be good.

“He loves you dearly”

“Then why did he kiss her?”

“I don’t know baby… but I do know that man would do anything to have you forgive him. Do you want to forgive him?”

“Of course I do… I just don’t know how”

She continued to pat your hair, humming a soft tune before pulling you up right. Grabbing a tissue she wipes under your eyes and begins to pull your hair up into a ponytail.

It brought back memories of when you were a child, warmth surrounds your aching heart.

“Your going to get yourself dresses, your going to go to reach out to Odessa” “wait what” “let me finish”

“You're going to talk to her, ask the questions you need the truth too. You're then going to make the decision, do you stay or do you go”

You hadn’t told Drew that you contacted Odessa, a part of you wanted to make sure he couldn’t reach out to her and tell her to keep her mouth shut, it made you sick to even think that. Drew wasn’t that kind of person, he would have owned up to his mistakes the moment he told you he kissed her.

Surprisingly she had been more than willing to FaceTime you, she called you at around 5pm. Your fingers shook as you pressed the answer call, her face popped up on screen. She was a lot prettier than you, was the first thing you thought, it latched onto the part of your brain that had you feeling self conscious the whole call.

“I’m really sorry y/n, it was such a dumb thing to do on my part” your eyebrows crease together. “I kissed him”

“Oh” she doesn’t say anything for a moment, running a hand down her face and fixing the phone up. “Can you tell me what happened?” You question, you needed the full story. “Of course”.

Odessa admitted to falling for Drew, she said she had no intentions of doing so. That her and her girlfriend had broken up and he was there for her during the filming of hell raiser. She told you how she knew it was wrong and constantly fought with herself when she was around him, telling herself he was in a relationship. But it didn’t stop her from kissing him one night, the two of them left an event and were standing in the hotel hallway. He wanted to make sure she went inside before he went to his, she took his loitering around for something else and grabbed him by the shirt, the kiss lasted maybe 15 seconds.

She said he hadn’t kissed her back at first but then he did just before pulling away and leaving her in the hallway without a word.

She said he wasn’t their in the morning and she knew she fucked the friendship because he stopped answering her calls.

“And then I found out the two of you broke up and I wanted to reach out and say it was my fault but who wants to hear from the slutty friend”.

“Nothing else happened?”

“Nothing else, he left and I haven’t seen him since”

“Okay”

It’s silent for a few moments, you can feel her staring at you. “I’m really sorry y/n”.

You nod your head and stop the call, you didn’t owe her a thank you or a goodbye. You got what you needed.

You drove yourself over to your old apartment, bags packed. If you were going to give this another shot you needed to go back home, you couldn’t keep putting off seeing him. How were you meant to push through if you only see him once a week?

Your key is in the lock before you can wimp out, the house is dimly lit and you can hear the shower running. You drop your bags and lock the door behind you, your legs are taking you towards the sound of running water. Slowly strip off your jumper and shirt followed by the rest of your clothes until you're enveloped by the steam, clearing your nostrils.

You tap your knuckles against the bathroom door “it’s me”. His head pokes out of the glass door, you don’t miss the way his eyes widen at your naked body. “Hi”

Stepping into the shower he stares down at you with a smile but he doesn’t touch you, unsure if he is allowed to. So you reach up and press your palms to his chest, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. His hand holds your jaw, you're the one deepening the kiss. He lets you take control, he doesn’t want to push you to do something you weren’t ready for. “Sorry” he mumbles as you're pulling away and looking between the two of you, his cock was hard. Poking you in the stomach, his cheeks flushed pink. You hesitate for a split second before your hand wraps around the base of him, looking up at him through your lashes you catch the role of his eyes.

His cock throbs within your hand, pre cum leaks from his pink tip. Your hand jerks up and down his shaft, emitting moans from Drew, his hips begin to jerk. Your thighs pressed together at the sounds he lets out, you can feel your own arousal leaking down your thigh. His large hands grips the glass door steadying himself, his knees weak under him. “Y/n” he groans, you looking between his face and his cock. His body shudders under the shower, spraying you with warm water. “I’m… oh fuck I’m going to cum” he grunts, your free hand cups his balls this tips him over the edge and his spurting his cum all over his stomach.

He takes deep breaths to calm his erratic heart rate, your small hands push him under the water and help him clean himself up. “What was that for?” He questioned, you shrugged and leaned up to kiss him again. “Paying my debts from the other night”.

He thinks back to the night he helped you get off on his clothes cock, another pink blush creeps onto his cheek. “You didn’t have to but thank you”. You kiss for a bit longer, his hands wander all over your body sending shivers down your spine.

A familiar warmth settles within you and you can’t hide the bin grin in your face. You missed this, you missed him.

Then he’s helping you wash yourself, wrapping a towel around you when you both get out. “Do you need clothes?” “My bags are at the front door”.

He can’t hide the smile that creeps on his lips, he practically runs out of the bedroom and grabs your stuff. He watches you pull things out and put back in their place, he quickly throws on a pair of basketball shorts and watches you change into a shirt and shorts.

“Is that my shirt?” “Yeah” another smile creeps on his lips. You had been wearing one of his shirts everyday since you broke up, it had started to smell more like you than it did him.

He’s sat on the bed watching you until you take a seat next to him. “I spoke to Odessa” tension fills the room but he doesn’t move, eyes still on you waiting for you to speak again. “I asked her to tell me everything” “okay”

He turns slightly and pulls you closer to him, your legs over his. “I’m still not over the fact you kissed her but it does make me feel slightly better that she initiated it and you did stop it after a split moment of hesitation”. He nods, his fingers are drawing circles on your thigh. “I’m so sorry” he breathes. “I shouldn’t have said it was just a kiss, it was a kiss that broke us up and I’m so stupid for saying I couldn’t do it anymore, of course I could. You're the only person I want, actually the only person I need”

“Your the only person I want too”

🏷️ - @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @users09 @teresalesbian @outerbankspov @bbycowboi @stuffyownswrld @ietss @tastycakee @maybankslover @loverofdrewstarkey @wpdailyminimeta @willowpains @littlefirefly08 @brooklynscherry-z @imnotapretzelsstuff @ijustwanttoreadlols @its-ria-07 @onedayatatime6 @victory-in-the-llama @brooklynscherry-z @abbyshmaby @lassie-bird @daisylovesrafe @pet1t3 @crazyf0robx @willowalexissss @kys4-20 @xo-hayleyy-xo (I tagged a few people who commented on the last part, lmk if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part)

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I wanna say there's some pretty descriptive talk about depression in this chapter, just as a heads up. Anyways, it's my weekend and I'm going to be absolutely zooted every single day so the next chapter will most likely be out Monday morning PST lol.

Cross-posted on AO3

Session 3: Blocking In Color

It was nearly three weeks until you saw Leon again.

You tried to call him a couple days after he'd left that day, a few more times over the following week, but to no avail. The man was unreachable.

Even though you did your best to convince yourself that you just wanted to get his painting started, "It was an important one", you knew that you were really just worried about him.

You've seen this kind of dismay with the other retired agents that've had a portrait painted in the past, but they at least recognized what they'd been through.

Leon hasn't. You could just tell.

Looking over the sketches you made of his face, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly he'd been thinking about the last time he was here. He seemed so bothered, acting like he was hiding it so well, too.

Then again, you did drop a rather large bombshell on the guy while he was in a pretty vulnerable state, but you thought he knew what the portrait he was going to receive was suppose to mean. Again, most of the retired agents you'd seen were similar to Leon in that regard and even they at least had a basic grasp on the finality of it all. So why didn't he?

You nursed your bottom lip, still staring at the sketches laying in front of you while you sat at one of your desks in the corner. You normally don't come to your workspace unless you're actively painting, yet you'd shown up everyday in hopes Leon would randomly pop in. He seemed like the kind of guy to just kind of show up, anyways...

If you had just gotten a picture that day you've could've at least started working out the positioning for his portrait. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any position mentally to put up with anymore of your shenanigans at the time, it seemed.

You really did try your best to get ahold of Leon, eventually giving up a few days ago. You'd already emailed the President, who had been the one to personally commission you unlike with previous ex-agents, letting him know that it's going to be longer than expected. Thankfully he was understanding, knowing rather well how much the whole retirement thing was weighing on Leon.

You'll come back tomorrow and try again. Even the next day, and the day after that if you have to, and so on and so forth.

Guilty. That's all Leon felt right now.

He's been shelled up in his house since the moment he got home after leaving your building, withering away by the minute.

He hadn't showered, barely eaten, only ever really pulling himself from what little comfort his room offered to grab whatever bottle he touched first in the cabinet. Leon didn't care, just as long as it was something.

Chris had been over a couple times after he stopped responding to his messages, doing his best to get him out of the house. Claire had been over a few times more than her brother had, bringing groceries once she'd heard about the sad state Leon was keeping himself in.

It broke both their hearts, but they could only do so much for him. Leon was stubborn, head strong, he wasn't the kind to sway to many forces. He had somehow gaslit himself into thinking he was doing well. "Just peachy", even.

Clearly that wasn't the case, both Chris and Claire could see that. They'd have to be blind not to.

Having been in contact with Leon's government-assigned therapist, Chris tried to set up an at-home meeting for him one day. That turned out to be a disaster seeing as Leon was bordering on blackout drunk and could barely keep his eyes open. Not to mention the vomiting.

Claire even tried to bathe Leon. She only got far enough to wash his hair in his kitchen sink, using his vomit-covered mouth as an excuse to keep him over the sink long enough to shampoo his greasy, stringy hair.

All of it was weighing on him too much. He felt so guilty for making his friends feel like they had to babysit him, ignoring everyone's calls and messages, your calls and messages. That kind of thought process quickly spiraled into him reliving the worst days of his life, having to through suffer so many flashbacks and nightmares, not sleeping because of it. He rarely ever felt safe enough to get under the covers on his bed.

None of this is what he wanted. If it were up to him, he'd start all over; be twenty-one again, work as a cop, maybe get promoted a few times, find a girlfriend, start a family, have a normal life. Why couldn't he have that?

Staying awake night after night, Leon would stare at the ceiling in his bedroom and fantasize about the wonderful life he could've had, the happy memories he could've made. It would make him weep, longing for something that never could've been.

Instead, Leon was stuck with endless images of horror, death, and gore every time he blinked, and oh was he bitter about it all. So bitter, so angry, so...

Feeling sorry for himself was all he could do now. Sure, he killed all those monsters and zombies, saved all those people, not once did he think about himself through the years. Now he had all the time in the world to question and wonder, and having to think about himself and what he wanted most made him feel like a needy, greedy bastard.

But wasn't he allowed to be greedy, if only just a little? He had wants, needs, and though he wanted so desperately to change his past, he knew he couldn't. So, what did he want now? That, he didn't know.

Guilty for feeling this way, guilty for wanting different, guilty for wanting anything good for himself.

It took the better part of those two weeks for Leon to finally muster up some form of energy to stumble into his bathroom and shower one afternoon, dizzy and nauseous. The light emanating from the rest of his house was blinding, not having even bothered to close the shades he had on any of his windows. His room was kept a cave and that's where he stayed.

Leon now found himself sitting down in the shower just like before he'd decided to retire, only this time it was mostly to keep from slipping and dying. The last thing he needed anyone to see was him naked and dead in the shower. Embarrassing.

His thoughts at the moment were shallow, still pretty drunk from his bender, head lulling back and forth a bit as his vision spun. He was finally hungry again, the heat from the shower making that all the more obvious as he grew lightheaded, but he didn't know what he wanted.

After managing to actually crawl his way out of the shower, he dug through the pile of dirty laundry at the end of his bed, finding a pair of boxers that didn't smell too terrible to put on.

Leon used the wall heavily for support to walk out into his kitchen, muttering curses under his breath at just how bright it was. Opening his freezer, he stared at the meal prep containers left by Claire, grabbing one to attempt and read what she'd wrote on the sticky note attached to the lid.

That's right... She made him little meals, even putting them in the freezer so they didn't go bad as fast. All he had to do was put it in the microwave.

Simple enough, he could do that.

The one he chose was meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Just the sound of it had his stomach rumbling and his mind craving the comforting taste of a home cooked meal.

The first few bites in made Leon feel nauseous again, but once those bites hit his stomach the feeling immediately gave way to just how hungry he actually was.

He tried to pace himself, he really did try, yet he managed to devour the food in front of him in a matter of minutes, only pausing every few seconds to breathe. It felt so good, something warm in his stomach. Filling in all the right ways. Once he finished, he pushed the empty container away and just laid his head down sideways on the cool countertop, closing his eyes as he let the food settle.

As much as he wanted to degrade himself for acting this way, reducing himself to such a weird and pathetic state, Leon didn't have the mind to. All he knew right now was that the warmth that the meal Claire made him. Not to sound cliche, but he genuinely believed he could taste the love cooked into it.

For the first time in what was now two and a half weeks, Leon was awake and alert when Chris and Claire came over again. He'd eaten everything Claire made, holding all the now cleaned containers out to her. It was a silent plea for more, and lucky for Leon, she had just made another grocery trip for him.

Unbeknownst to him, Claire had been cooking here at his house. This entire time he thought she'd been bringing the meals over, assumed to be leftovers from cooking for her family. She did confess to hoping the smell of the food cooking would pull him from his room. It didn't, much to her dismay, but now she was just glad he was up and eating again.

As soon as Leon tried to apologize for dragging her away from her family, she was quick to shut him down with that mom stare she'd developed after having her kids. It worked, especially on him.

Chris was busy chatting up Leon while Claire cooked him another set of meals for the next week. It was hard to converse, but Leon did manage to nod and him as the other man talked about some random encounter he had the other day while out driving.

It was strange to feel so lively again. Those thoughts still clung to the back of his mind, though all he could focus on were his friends taking care of him like one of their own. Leon feels like he's been a terrible friend lately, seems as though the siblings standing in his kitchen didn't feel the same. He wasn't showing it, but Leon was definitely holding back a smile.

A couple hours had past, Chris opting to stay with Leon and eat lunch since Claire had to head back and help her husband with something.

The hug Claire gave Leon was phenomenal. After the hug he shared with you he's been craving that physical contact more than ever, so finally getting another good squeeze from a friend was boosting his mood.

Chris and him sat, ate, and talked about whatever came to mind, eventually asking about you.

"How's the painting coming along? Do you like the painter?" He smiled, looking at Leon with wide, curious eyes. That man always had a smile gracing his features.

Leon shrugged, taking a sip from the water he poured himself not too long ago. He was pretty dehydrated after solely drinking alcohol for the past couple weeks. "She's alright. Haven't started the painting yet."

Chris raised an eyebrow, placing his arms on the counter and crossed them as he leaned forward slightly. "Just 'alright'?" he emphasized the word "alright" with air quotes, which caused Leon to scoff.

"What else do you want me to say? I've seen her twice so far and its been fine." Leon lifted his hands up in confusion, palms facing the ceiling as he watched the man sitting next to him rolled his eyes dramatically. "C'mon, she was amazing for Claire and I- Okay, how about this..."

Chris repositioned himself so his entire upper body was facing him now, leaning in a little closer to ask another question. "Do you like the room she works in? Cause I thought it was pretty comfy. When she was focusing on Claire's part of the portrait, I took a nap over on that rug she had. All those pillows mixed with the classical music knocked me the fuck out."

He laughed, shaking his head at memory before looking over at Leon again. "So...? And don't lie to me, I saw that pillow on your couch."

Leon sucked on his teeth and hummed, glancing over his shoulder at his couch. "It's cozy, yeah." He brought his head back forward, patting his hands gently against the counter.

The two chatted for awhile longer before Chris eventually had to leave, giving Leon a firm pat on the shoulder while shaking him a bit. After he left, Leon was left to sit alone and think again, only difference now is he felt better. He was crazy tired, his social battery quickly drained from having his friends around, but he felt good nonetheless.

He wasn't ready at the time, yet after a sober night with solid sleep, Leon woke up the next morning and decided to just text you, hoping you weren't mad at him. Calling would've been too much at that moment, not even have listened to the voicemails you left, or anyone's, for that matter.

His chest felt tight after sending the text, but it was quickly eased about ten minutes later when you responded with nothing but enthusiasm. The smiley face you added at the end of your message made him smile, quickly wiping it away with his hand.

Your next session was arranged two days ahead of time in the late afternoon. Leon wanted to give himself enough time to recollect since he needed to look his best the following weeks. You told him it was time to start with the main painting, which you still needed a picture for.

During that time he finally shaved his stubble, went out and got his hair trimmed, tackled all the laundry he'd neglected, and got his best suit dry cleaned. All thoughts aside, he felt good and wanted to stay this way.

Needless to say, Leon was jittery when he pulled up to your workplace again. He was finally letting himself feel excited again about this painting. If it's anything close to what Chris and Claire's portrait is, then that excitement will only continue to grow the further along you get.

You were already there waiting for him at the door, a gentle smile on your face. That wonderful soft perfume that he missed reaching his nose once more as you lead him up the stairs and through the other door. Chris was right, if he had the opportunity, he'd take a nap on your rug. It looked mighty comfy.

Leon was thankful you didn't ask any questions on his whereabouts, he wasn't ready to talk. You were just as excited as he was about getting the painting started, if not more. Watching you eagerly move back and forth between the larger easel and your desks was a refreshing sight to the man.

You stood at your easel for a couple minutes, just silently looking from the blank canvas to where he was sat. You told him to get into a comfortable position, prompting him rest his right leg on his left knee, leaning back and to the side so he was sitting at a slight angle, arms resting on the chair's armrests.

You stared at him for a few seconds, tilting your head side to side with your eyes squinted. "Let me just-" you spoke in a hushed voice, walking over to Leon before cautiously reaching out to rest one hand on the underside on his chin while the other hovered over the side of his face.

You weren't an idiot, you knew what his absence was from. So you made sure to be careful with him, knowing he was probably still pretty fragile. Only gentle and cautious touches for Mr. Kennedy.

So close yet so far. His skin tingled in your hands wake, and god he hoped you couldn't notice his blush.

You could, but you wouldn't say anything. Besides, you weren't faring well yourself, hands a little shaky as you touched his face.

Leon just let you move his head to whatever position you wanted, his eyes now half-lidded as you had walked back a couple times to get just the right angle. You pulled away for a final time with a small "aha!" and he wished you would hold his head for just a little longer.

The floor where your easel sat was marked with an 'X' made with painter's tape, making it easy for you to stay in the right spot for the photo once you pushed the easel out of the way.

"Don't move." You held your hands up after analyzing his position, quickly hurrying over the corner opposite of your desks to grab a bulky camera that sat atop a tall tripod. You worked as fast as you could, knowing as long as you had a picture with him in this position then this whole process would go so much smoother.

You didn't even have to ask Leon to smile or look up at the camera since he was sitting there with a rather dopey smile, his eyes remaining trained right on yours. Nice and natural. He looked relaxed which is exactly what you wanted.

Just as a precaution, you took multiple pictures, giving him a thumbs up once you figured you'd gotten enough. His head back to rest on the chair at the okay, listening to the sound of you walk over to your laptop after untwisting the camera from the tripod. You printed out 3 copies of the photograph and taped one to a stand you had brought over to sit next to the easel, making sure it sat eye level to you.

The ball was finally rolling, now having what you needed to start with the main sketch. When Leon lifted his head up, he noticed that you were ready, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose while he shifted a little to get back in just the right position.

You twirled your pencil between your fingers before beginning to roughly sketch out the chair, eyebrows furrowing as you focused. Leon could see your expression, how intensely you zoned into your work. It was incredibly admirable and he found himself fully content in just watching you do your thing.

It didn't take long before you had sketched out his general shapes, now walking over to take the sketches you made of his face out of your sketchbook to clip up right next to the reference photo. The more finer details would be added later, but you wanted to get just the basic shapes of his face.

That didn't take long either, because before Leon knew it, you were telling him it was okay to talk. He was pretty animated with his hands when he talked, so you kept him quiet until now.

"Am I easy to draw?" Leon spoke with an almost sultry tone after a few seconds of you telling him he could speak. It threw you off only a bit, carding your fingers through your hair as you took one step back to look at what you had so far.

"I wanna say yes and no." You responded, catching his questioning look from the corner of your eye. "You're easy to sketch out, yes, but your hair is giving me trouble." You could hear a low chuckle rumble from his chest as you stepped back forward. "Hey, you asked." You laughed back.

"I know, I know." He shook his head with a poorly hidden grin, tilting his head down to try and hide it a little better. You immediately pointed your pencil at him, not taking your eyes off the canvas. "I said you could talk, not move." Your sarcastic tone made him chuckle again, slowly lifting his head back up with a sigh.

"Yes, ma'am." You could just hear the smirk in his words, causing you to let out a sigh of your own.

By the time the sun had started to set, you had blocked out all the simple colors for the painting. Right now, it just looked like a very bland and abstract painting. It'll come together, slowly but surely. Trust the process, as people say.

Leon was in awe already, having stood up to look at your progress as you washed your hands over in the small bathroom. Oil paints smeared something fierce and as much as you loved your job, you did not want feel oily at home.

"It already looks stunning." You heard the man say from where he stood in front of the easel. It wasn't quite registering in his brain that it was him on that canvas just yet, but hopefully soon it would.

He wanted to recognize himself in something as wonderful as your art.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Child Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression

A/N: Here's some more angst I'm sorry Also, sorry for this chapter being so short!! But it felt important and I kinda wanted to do more short chapters like this to help stretch the story along a bit further. But we're so close! More drama is afoot! Angst! Despair! Dun dun duuuuun...

Taglist:@bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

Chapter 13:

A Rock, A River, And A Boy With a Soft Smile

The dreams weren't constant.... but some of them were better than the first. Sometimes worse... But whatever they were, it was obvious that these dreams were connected to your soulmate... Why else would you be able to touch the boy but nobody else?

As you dreamt, more and more happened. You never saw the boy as an adult man; only ever as a child, or varying ages below 18. It took you a short while to figure out just what these dreams were.

His memories.

And they explained so much of the phantom pains and bruises you'd felt growing up your entire life.

It wasn't until tonight that you were in a different place; trees and grass surrounded you. There was a rocky outcropping with what looked like a crevice inbetween the crags.

Outside of the cave was a boulder, and on that boulder was the boy. His knees were tucked up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his face buried as he shook, bruises visible on his arms, his clothes dirty; twigs stuck out from his raven curls here and there. It became obvious rather quickly that the boy had possibly slept out here.

You rushed over to him, compassion hitting you like a freight train and gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

His reaction was instinctive, brought on by practice of avoiding his mother's blows. The boy's arms immediately went up to cover his head, flinching to protect himself from a blow that you were never going to deliver.

"It's okay, I'm sorry!" You hushed him gently as he scrambles down into the grass to get away from you. You fell to your knees, feeling the dirt and mud cake onto your pajama pants; you held your hands out to him, showing you weren't going to do anything.

It wasn't until one amber eye peeked out at you that he finally realized you weren't his dreadful mother. He lifted his head and his eyes widened.

"Are you okay?" You asked him desperately, "Are you hurt?"

"What are you? Did he send you to mess with me?" He asked you, his voice cracking slightly in pitch, "Because making me do those... those things aren't enough? Now he's gotta... gotta..."

That broke your heart even more; he was so young. Too young to be suffering this kind of abuse, too young to worry about when the next blow was going to land. He shouldn't have to think of his home as a battlefield he had to navigate like some kind of shell-shocked soldier.

"Nobody sent me, I just... I'm here." You try to tell him.

His eyes frantically searched your body, unable to focus on any specific part of you. His brows furrowed and he swallowed.

"You... you can't see me, can you?"

He shifted to sit on his knees, looking towards your face, not quite able to place where your eyes would be. "I... N-No. You look like a... a blob."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but laugh. "A blob?"

His brows furrowed and he licked his lips, a healing cut on his bottom one making him wince a little. "...You sound funny too. I can't hear everything you say."

"I can hear you." You replied slowly, inching closer to him as he tried to piece your words together. When he didn't move away, you took it as a good sign, that he was comfortable with you. Or, well, getting there at least.

His little eyes seemed confused, and he pursed his lips. "He... didn't send you?"

"Who's he?" You questioned.

"...A bee?" He asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

You snort, sighing, "This isn't going to be a flawless method of communication, is it?"

He watched as you scooted to sit next to him, and his body instinctively leaned closer to yours. He was shivering. Cold. You were, too, but... clearly you hadn't spent the night in the woods like he had.

He swallowed deeply, forcing the chatter in his teeth away as best he could; "Y-you're...."

"Who you need me to be." You said resolutely, bringing your arm around his shoulders, tucking him into the warmer shelter of your own body.

He seemed to understand the intentions behind your words, even if he couldn't hear them clearly, sighing as his body sunk into the warmth your body bled for him.

Your hand rubbed his warm softly, and you whispered, "Why is this happening to you? Why does she do this?"

"She hates me." He told you. He didn't need to hear you clearly to know you were asking about her. His mother.

He wiped at his runny nose, sniffling. "It's my fault. I-I did something bad... It's all my fault and she... I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

You felt your heart lurch painfully in your chest as he started to cry, wrapping both arms around him as you tucked him tighter against you, holding his head against your chest to let him cry into your shirt.

"I deserve it. I'm... I'm a bad person. I... I'm..."

Those words made you want to scream, but you kept your voice in check as you pet his hair to soothe him as best you could.

"You're not a bad person." You told him softly, kissing the top of his head as he held onto you. "You're just a boy. Who's hurting, being hurt. It doesn't make you bad. It makes you a victim."

You didn't care if he heard all of what you said to him, but you prayed he understood what you meant by the feeling in your voice as you said them.

He lifts his head to look at you, disheveled, scared, and confused. The bruises and cuts on his lip make your heart hurt and burn with the desire to get your hands on that monstrous bitch of a woman he calls mother.

His smaller hand grasps at one of yours desperately and he holds it to his cheek, desperate for more gentle touches; as if they would soothe the aches and pains left behind even when the wounds had healed and bruises had faded. His sleeve rises up and your eyes trace the faint mark of... of a flower. You couldn't tell what kind, as the bud hadn't bloomed, but...

No, it wasn't time to focus on that right now. He needed comfort. He needed you.

You sat there, unsure of how much time had passed in your little dream sequence, before he finally spoke up again. His voice was softer, this time:

"You can't do this anymore."

"What?" You blinked at him in shock. You even had to shake your head to make sure you hadn't knocked something lose somehow.

He pulled back from you, and stood up, backing away from you.

"You can't keep finding me." He says, tears welling up in his eyes once again. "I'll hurt you, too."

"Wait!" You say, reaching out for him, your heart breaking yet again as he stepped further out of reach. "What's your name?"

"I don't want to hurt you, too... not you..." He sobs softly, clenching his fists before he runs away.

You are barely able to let out a scream before the earth opens up and swallows you whole; and everything goes black.

Chapter 14: Link

[darylas]

Chapter 3 - Ghost of a Chance

John "Bucky" Egan x singer!fem!reader first ♫ previous ♫ next ao3

You go on a double date to distract yourself from thoughts of Bucky, a task made more difficult when he is sitting in the same pub.

4.2k words

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Non-consensual use of drugs, Attempted sexual assault, Mild violence

Disclaimer: Most of the characters mentioned are based on the dramatic portrayal featured in the Masters of the Air limited series, not the actual historical figures they represent.

A/N: Please read the warnings! MAJOR tone shift coming in from the north. I promise next chapter will be lighter!

“So, how long have you been in merry old England?”

“Less than a month, though it doesn’t feel that way,” you answered, swiping your thumb across the condensation that had formed quickly on your glass in the humidity of the pub. You were sat across from Lieutenant Tom Foyle, a pilot in the 351st. His dark hair was styled neatly with pomade, his handsome face clean-shaven. Next to you sat Millicent “Millie” Vance, another Red Cross girl who had somehow roped you into being one-fourth of a double date. 

“Oh? Does it feel longer or shorter?” Tom asked. He seemed genuinely interested in your answer, as he had with everything you’d said that evening. He had kind, curious green eyes that made you feel like the only person in the room. 

You looked down at your glass, half empty. “Both. Neither. To be completely honest I’m not quite sure. The work gets so repetitive that time seems to stand still some days, but other times it feels as though the clock is ticking faster than a runaway train. I suppose there’s nothing like war to make time feel rather short.” You gave Tom a reassuring smile, ending your little monologue before it grew any more depressing and soured the whole evening. “Sorry,” you said, holding up your glass. “It appears that gin makes me a tad melancholy.” 

The blond pilot sitting across from Millie spoke up. “That’s funny, it makes me giddy. Of course, that could just be our present company.” He leaned forward, addressing Millie. “I told Tom that you had to be the prettiest girl this side of the ocean.” 

Millie grinned and replied, “Glad we’re not on the other side of the ocean, then,” causing the pilot, Dan, to let out a surprised wheeze of laughter.

While Dan continued his boisterous flirting, saying something about Millie having wit as well as looks, Tom leaned toward you, filling your nostrils with the pleasant scent of his aftershave. He smirked and said in a low voice, “I believe his exact words to me were, ‘What a dish!’.” 

You chuckled softly, pleasantly surprised that you were actually enjoying yourself. “I suppose we can’t all be Humphrey Bogart.”

“Sure, we can.” Tom cocked his head slightly to the side and spoke with Bogart’s deep and gravelly voice. “We’ll always have Paris.”

You laughed as he sat back in his chair with a smile. “You saw Casablanca?” you asked him.

“Yep, right before flying over. I’d go see movies whenever I could.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Used to think I could be an actor. Wouldn’t that be something? Seeing yourself on the big screen?” He certainly had the looks for it. 

“Maybe after the war, you could pursue an acting career. I’m sure Hollywood would snatch you right up.” Tom smiled bashfully at the compliment. “I actually wanted to be in movies myself when I was younger. Particularly musicals. I’m not much of a dancer but hell, neither is Bing Crosby, and he gets away with it.” You took another sip of gin, inwardly wincing. It was stronger than the drinks you normally favored, but Dan had ordered a round for the table. You had never liked when a man ordered food or drink for a woman, but you didn’t want to embarrass Millie by declining. 

“I’d see your films over Bing’s any day,” responded Tom, who managed to combine flirtation and authenticity with such ease that you were beginning to feel skeptical. You couldn’t help but glance toward the back of the pub, where Major Egan had been sitting with some of the other men for the past hour. You were surprised to find him looking right back at you. He gave you a small smile and a subtle nod. No wink, no devilish grin. Curious. Reflexively, you smiled back, then looked away. 

Much to your annoyance, John Egan had begun to appear in your thoughts almost regularly and uninvited. Ever since that night at the club, he had gotten under your skin like a persistent itch. An egotistical, irritating, handsome, intriguing itch. You kept these thoughts to yourself, as you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his asinine attempt to insult you into a conversation almost worked. By the same token, you were still wary of him, knowing his track record with women. 

You knew, not so deep down, that you had agreed to come on this double date to distract yourself and perhaps meet someone else to occupy your thoughts. Someone like Tom, who picked up his glass and said, “To our Tinseltown dreams, then.” 

You clinked your glass with his and said, “To Bing Crosby and his two left feet.” 

Millie spoke up. “You know, our Red Cross canary here sings an old Bing song just beautifully. The one from that short with Mary Kornman. Anyone who’s ever made coffee and doughnuts with this one in the morning has heard her sing it.” 

You shrugged one shoulder. “Anything to distract me from throwing that blasted doughnut machine out the window. I swear, my poor old Zippo is more reliable than that thing.”

“I thought you said your lighter doesn’t work anymore,” said Millie. 

“Exactly,” you replied, to the laughter of your companions. 

Tom, with laughter still in his voice, looked at you and said, “I’d sure love to hear you sing it sometime. After all, when some bigshot movie producer calls to ask me about your talents, I want to give him an accurate description.”

Dan scoffed. “Why would a movie producer call you about her?”

Tom lightly smacked his friend on the shoulder. “Why would anyone call you about anything?”

Dan’s blond mustache twitched as he smirked. “You’re hilarious. Anybody ever tell you what a gasser you are?”

There was a brief pause, during which your traitorous eyes suddenly flicked back to that table in the back of the pub. Major Egan was not looking at you this time, his attention currently fixed on his friend Lieutenant Curtis Biddick while he seemed to be mimicking various boxing forms. Egan laughed and hollered with the rest of the men at the table. He looked younger when he laughed, less like a commanding officer and more like a carefree young man. You assumed he shouldered a great many cares, and that the weight of them would only increase as the war continued. The humidity of the pub had caused a few curls to come loose over his forehead, the fire behind him giving his skin a warm glow.

“I’m sure the pianist knows it,” said Millie, breaking you out of what you could only describe as a trance before the Major caught you staring.

“Knows what?” you asked, praying to high heaven you weren’t blushing.

 “The song! You could sing it here!” 

“Oh, Millie, please. Most of these boys hear far too much of my caterwauling back at base. They come here to get away from that. Besides, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m in the middle of a date.” You gestured between yourself and Tom. 

Tom smiled. “As much as I’m enjoying said date, I think the one thing it’s missing is a beautiful song sung by a beautiful lady. And I think all the guys in here would agree with me.” 

“I don’t think they would-”

“What, you want me to take a poll?” asked Millie, teasingly. “Dan, sweetie, would you mind?”

Alright, maybe she wasn’t teasing. Dan stood up and shouted, “Gentlemen! Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” His question was answered with a chorus of affirmative shouts and whistles from around the pub. 

Tom looked at you and grinned. “Sounds like you better head over there.”

You grinned back and let out a resigned huff of breath before standing up. “I suppose orders are orders, Lieutenant.”

═════ ♫ ═════

Bucky heard your laughter from across the pub. His eyes immediately turned towards you as the sound reached him, his instincts taking over before his thoughts could catch up. He’d seen you walk in with one of the pilots in the 351st, decked out and chatting with Millie Vance. You were smiling at that pilot now; not the plastered-on, rehearsed, all-American smile he had grown used to seeing at Thorpe Abbotts. This was the real thing, and it was beautiful. What would he give to be the reason for that smile? To be the one to make you laugh like that?

He would fly through a thousand miles of flak. 

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. He might just be the most pathetic man in the entire fucking world. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was so keen on someone. You had to be some sort of siren, luring him out to sea with your alluring voice, only to drag him down, down, down, to the depths of the ocean. He was surprised to find he didn’t mind. With a barely concealed smirk, he realized that being eaten alive by you would not be a terrible way to die. 

You had glanced his way once or twice, no doubt feeling his eyes on you. He had tried to look away, to focus on the stories told around the table, but he simply couldn’t help himself. His gaze kept falling back on you. He had never seen you without your Red Cross uniform, and the dress you were wearing had clearly been custom-designed to drive him crazy.

Bucky was grateful for Curt’s loud voice and enthusiasm as he talked about boxing. The distraction was a welcome one, though he supposed that you were the true distraction in this case and not the other way around. 

“I can’t believe Buck didn’t come,” said Curt, finishing off his whiskey. “He knows exactly what I’m talkin’ about. The high guard stance ain’t shit in the ring. It’s all about-”

“Gentlemen!” called a voice from across the pub. “Who wants to hear our 100th canary sing us a song?” The place was filled with the sound of whoops and hollers from nearly every table. Bucky watched you grin at your date–Foyle–and stand up before walking to the piano.

Curt didn’t miss a beat before saying, “Uh oh. Look out boys, you might see Bucky cry. The music really gets to’m.”

“Yeah, the music’s lookin’ like a solid sender in that dress,” said Hambone, earning a round of laughter from the table. 

Bucky smiled good-naturedly, used to the ribbing at this point. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. Since when is a guy not allowed to appreciate a beautiful dame, huh?”

"Bucky, you've been eyeing her all night," Jack interjected. "You stare at her more than Douglass stares at that photo of Betty Grable he keeps in his pocket." Another round of laughs. Bucky took a long sip of whiskey as Curt patted him on the back with a grin.

He watched you lean down to speak softly to the pianist before standing up straight and clearing your throat. “Don’t you boys hear enough of me as it is? I don’t know what’s gotten into you; well, I suppose I have some idea,” you said, tapping your nail against someone’s glass to make a plinking sound. The crowd laughed, many raising their drinks. “I’m going to sing an old song, but I asked my new friend Alan here to keep it short. I have a drink of my own I’d like to get back to.”

Next to him, Curt laughed before leaning over and saying, “She might be too much of a firecracker for your sorry ass.” Bucky elbowed him in the arm, making him laugh harder. As the pianist started playing a slow, pleasant melody, Curt leaned in again and said, “Or…she just might be perfect for your sorry ass.” Bucky furrowed his brow and turned his head to look at his friend, who smirked and shrugged. “What? I get sappy when I drink.” Bucky didn’t have time to reply before you began to sing.

I need your love so badly

I love you, oh, so madly

But I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You sauntered between the tables as you sang, the patrons smiling up at you. Bucky preferred when you sang slower songs like this one, the drawn-out notes more sensuous and poignant. As you came within ten feet of his table, you stopped moving. Your eyes met his and lingered for a moment as you continued your song. He was spellbound.

I thought at last I'd found you

But other loves surround you

And I don't stand a

Ghost of a chance with you

You walked back to the piano, leaning elegantly against it as you finished the last line of the song. Applause rang throughout the pub and you nodded graciously before shouting, “How about my new friend, our amazing pianist, Mr. Alan Bennett?” The applause and shouts continued as you said “Thank you; enjoy your evening,” then headed back to your seat. 

When Bucky saw you smile once again, genuinely, at Foyle, the spell was broken. No, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of that smile yet, but your shared moment just now gave him a glimpse of hope. You had looked at him differently then, not with contempt or that devastating neutrality from before, but with something else.

Christ, he really was pathetic, knowing that look would be all he thought about for the rest of the night. He deserved the boys’ ragging, as well as another glass of whiskey.

═════ ♫ ═════

You listened to Millie tell an amusing story about an old neighbor back home as you finished your drink. Even though you weren’t currently talking, you noticed Tom stealing frequent glances at you. You smiled encouragingly at him before fanning yourself with a napkin, the heat in the pub somehow having gotten worse. 

As Millie continued her story, your thoughts drifted to Major Egan. When your eyes met his grey ones during the song, you were struck by the tenderness and reverence in his gaze. He hadn’t looked at you like a prize, like an object to be used until he grew bored of it. You had held that gaze for longer than you intended; it didn’t change, but you felt like you did. 

For that brief moment, no more than five seconds, you were no longer in the pub, but somewhere else entirely. You weren’t sure exactly where you were during this momentary lapse of reality, but you knew you had gotten there through his eyes. You had always heard of getting lost in someone’s eyes, but in that moment, you didn’t feel lost. Instead, you felt as though you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Perhaps you had been too quick to judge him.

Perhaps you should get to know him better.

Perhaps it had just been a man watching a woman while she sang. 

All of these confusing thoughts were beginning to give you a headache. 

In fact, the noise of the pub seemed to grow louder by the second, and the lights seemed to get brighter. You squinted. 

“Honey, are you alright?” asked Millie. You hadn’t realized she’d stopped talking. You gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I think the crowded room is getting to me. I might need to step outside for a moment; get some fresh air.” You scooted your chair away from the table.

Both men stood as you did so. Tom pushed in his chair and came around to your side of the table, looking concerned. “Can I accompany you outside? I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course. I’d appreciate it, actually.” You looked at Millie. “We’ll be right back.”

As you stood up, you lost your balance and braced your hands on the table, causing the legs to make a loud noise as they shifted. You flushed with embarrassment as multiple patrons looked in your direction, some sniggering to each other. Millie put a delicate hand on your arm. “Are you sure you’re alright? I think we need to head back.”

You waved her off. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. I just stood up too fast. A few minutes of fresh air and I’ll be good as new. Don’t you dare move; this is your one night out. I’m fine.”

Millie continued to look at you with skepticism and concern, but Tom offered you his arm and you took it, walking toward the front of the pub with slow, deliberate steps. 

Suddenly, you were outside the pub, still holding on tight to Tom’s arm. You breathed in the night air, hoping it would clear your head. It didn’t. 

“Feel any better?” asked Tom. 

You looked at him and were alarmed to see that you were no longer outside the front entrance, but alone with him around the side of the building. You couldn’t remember how you got there, but Tom’s arm was still in your grasp. You continued to cling to it, as your dizziness had gotten worse and you were afraid you might fall flat on your face if you let go. 

“No, I….don’t,” you answered, having difficulty forming the words. This sudden ailment was clearly something that needed more than fresh air to fix, and you knew it was time to call it a night. Could you really be this drunk? Yes, the gin had been stronger than what you normally drank, but you only had one glass.

Tom looked at you with concern. “I’m so sorry. Are you feeling well enough for the trip back? It would probably be safer to book you a room for the night.” He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I think I’d like to…to go back to base and get in bed.”

“Is that an invitation?” he asked softly, brushing the backs of his fingers down your bare arm.

“Nnnn…no.” The pain in your head was worsening, your mind telling you that you needed to leave. Now. 

Tom spoke your name, his voice still soft. “I think that you and I go together so well. You’re incredibly witty, charming, and so lovely.” You felt him stroke the side of your face. You went to push his hand away, but it was gone when you lifted your hand to your face. “I’m curious to see if our compatibility goes beyond the conversational level, aren’t you?”

When you looked at him again, your head spinning with the effort, his handsome face still held the same charm and sincerity from before. 

“Tom, I want to leave. Right now!” You wrenched yourself free from his grasp and turned toward the street. Your movements had been too sudden and you stumbled forward, haphazardly throwing your hands out to avoid falling on your face. You closed your eyes and braced for the feeling of asphalt on your palms, but it never came. When you opened your eyes, you saw the dark olive drab of a military uniform and felt strong arms around you. Of course Tom had easily caught you. You prepared to scream for help—

“The hell is going on out here?” 

The person who’d caught you hadn’t been Tom. It was that major. He stood with you still limp in his arms, Millie close behind him looking panicked. 

He looked at you, then at Tom, then back at you, his expression quickly morphing from confusion to alarm. You must have been quite a sight. 

With urgency in his voice, he spoke your name. “Are you alright? What’s the matter?”

You stood up, another wave of dizziness crashing over you as Millie rushed to help you. “I think I’m…quite unwell, Mister…sorry, Major…” You looked at him quizzically, his name escaping you. Why couldn’t you think of his name? His face had been in your thoughts constantly over the past few days. 

The man reluctantly removed his arms from around you and allowed Millie to support you. “It’s Bucky. But you still only call me Major Egan, remember?” He looked terribly worried, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to address it. Your only concern right now was getting away from Tom and into bed. You were so tired. When you didn’t respond to him, stumbling once more into Millie, his expression changed again to one of fury. He turned toward Tom, who had begun inching his way out of sight. 

Bucky moved fast enough to exacerbate your dizziness, grabbing Tom by the lapels of his jacket and shoving him against the wall. “You put somethin’ in her drink? Did you do this to her?” The quiet, menacing calm of his voice was a stark contrast to his violent actions. 

Tom had the good sense to look frightened for a moment, before flashing his handsome smile at the seething major. “I was just offering to escort her back to base,” he said. “Clearly the poor thing can’t take her liquor. I didn’t do a damn thing to her drink.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” replied Bucky, before he let go of Tom’s jacket and punched him in the face. Hard. Millie shrieked.

Tom fell to the ground in a graceless heap, his nose bleeding and misshapen. Putting a hand up to his nose, he yelled, “What the hell was-”

“You need to get the fuck out of here right now or your nose won’t be the only thing I break tonight.” Bucky’s fist was clenched, blood on the knuckles. Tom scrambled away and was soon out of sight. 

Bucky turned back toward you and Millie. “She needs to see a doctor,” he said to your friend. 

Millie let out a sigh and replied with a tired voice. “No, she doesn’t; not right now anyway.”

Bucky gestured furiously at you. “Look at her!” You frowned and looked away.

Millie spoke with a cold gravity you had never heard from her before. “I see her, Bucky, and unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this. I know how to help, and I’m taking her back to base. Her symptoms should be gone tomorrow, but she needs rest.” 

Bucky said nothing for several seconds, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He said quickly, “Alright. Fine. But if anything, anything, seems off, you take her straight to Smokey, understand?” 

“I understand. I’ll take her tomorrow, just to make sure everything’s okay.” Millie began leading you toward the front of the building and the street, with Bucky following close behind. Eventually you were back in front of the pub.

Bucky looked at you, began to reach toward you, then put his hand in his pocket. “Let me take you home. Or would a room here be better?”

You stiffened.

“Excuse me?” you said, your head pounding.

Bucky looked taken aback at your sudden tone. “I just wondered if it would be better for you to get a room here for the night so you can rest.”

Son of a bitch. 

You pointed a finger at his chest, missing and poking his shoulder. “You. Is this what you wanted?”

Bucky furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What are you talking about? You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I saw you. I saw you looking at us…looking at mm..me. Was this part of your plan?”

Millie, who had her arm looped through yours, put a hand on your shoulder and said, “Honey, I know you’re confused, it’s not your f-”

“Did you think that you would play the knight in shining armor and that...that I would fall into your arms, overcome with- with gratitude? You thought I would g..go to bed with you?” Bucky shook his head vehemently and opened his mouth to speak, but you kept going. “I knew it. I knew that a dance would never just be a dance with you. I knew it.” You swayed, but Millie tightened her hold on you and you stayed upright. “I knew it,” you said to her. 

She rubbed your back soothingly. “Okay, honey. Let’s get you in bed, alright?” She turned to Bucky and spoke so quietly you couldn’t hear her over the noise of the music inside. You watched as Bucky nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. He looked back at you, nothing but concern in his eyes. But that’s how Tom had looked.

Fighting the pain at the front of your skull and the increasing urge to vomit in the nearest waste bin, you let go of Millie’s arm and took a wobbly step toward him. He removed his hands from his pockets, ready to catch you again, but you stayed upright. You said to him in a low voice, “I think you’re despicable.” The major said nothing, still watching you with the same worried look on his face. Inside the pub, you heard the pianist start playing “Blue Skies”, followed by at least two shouts of Bucky’s name. “Sounds like you’re missing your ‘signature song,’ Major. Please, don’t let me keep you.” 

With that, you allowed Millie to once again wind her arm through yours and lead you away from the pub, hopefully on a path toward your bed. She sighed. “Don’t worry, I told him you didn’t mean a word you said.” You frowned at her, confused. “I’m so sorry; if I had any idea that Tom was such a…” She sighed again. “Never mind. It does no good to apologize to you now when you won’t remember it. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” 

As you made your way back to your barracks, fighting sleep the whole way, all you could think of was a slow song and two grey eyes staring into yours.

[aquaticwolfkuri]

You HATE me, But I HATE You more: ch.5

(sorry for the long wait. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Comments are most welcome)

Today at Skool, Zim couldn’t help but notice all the other students were talking about “Prom” And who they were going to ask to go with them or what they were going to wear.

At first Zim just assumes its just some useless Urthling ritual… but than he hears something about “Prom king, and prom Queen” 

Curious, Zim pulled out a small device from his pack and searches through the human database to figure out what exactly the prom king is, and to his delight, it seems like becoming Prom king could help him rule the Skool and possibly even the whole Urth!

Zim begins to laugh, but he's interrupted when Dib suddenly appears behind him.

“Just what are you up to now?” Dib asks, narrowing his eyes at the alien.

 Zim nearly jumps before quickly moving away, putting distance between them.

“Why, I'm just SO curious about this, PROM thing that everyone is talking about” Zim says, but Dib doesn't seem to take this very well.

“Oh no you don't Zim. You are NOT going to ruin my chances to take Plotty to the prom!” This disgusts Zim.

“That PLOTTY-human is just mind controlling you, Dib! She's making you too stupid to see it”

“Whatever Zim, I'm taking Plotty to the prom and I'm not letting you ruin this for me” Dib says says before walking away. Zim glares, furious. 

“Ugh! Stupid Dib! Why does he still insist on being around that Plotty!? I already told him about her mind control, but he just refuses to listen to me…!” Zim grumbles, wishing he could choke the other boy until his eyes popped out, but even if he did, Dib would probably still insist on being around that GIRL....

Suddenly, Zim feels his chest tighten and something sickly in his belly. He quickly scans himself with his device again, but once more, his vitals appeared to be normal like usual.

Just what had Dib done to him?? Was it some kind of undetectable human poison???

Sitting at his desk, Dib vaguely listens to his history teacher while he watches the sky through the window, trying not to fall asleep… but he dozed off anyway.

It's not of any particular memories, but Dib dreams about being 12 again, trying to catch Zim and stop his evil plans… Things really aren't like that anymore, are they?

Zim has become a lot less focused on conquering the earth and more so just harassing him. And Dib on the other hand has nearly put his paranormal investigations to the side to focus on High Skool and just be… a normal teenager.

“Dib.”

“Nh….”

“Dib…!”

“Zim…??” Lifting his head from his desk, Dib groggily opens his eyes, only to realize the person in front of him is his teacher, looking none too pleased with his recent nap.

“Dib, I'll excuse you this time, but if you fall asleep in class again, I'll have to report you,” She says.

“Y-Yes ma’am,” Dib replies, not wanting his dad to hear another word about his misdemeanors at Skool again.

He sighs, wishing he was home right now, feeling kind of depressed after that dream.

When he looks out the window, he realizes it started to rain while he had been asleep. It's a good thing he's always prepared… Zim on the other hand, did not come prepared.

Since there hadn't been any rain, Zim forgot to bathe in his paste this morning.

Once Skool was over, everyone grabbed their umbrellas, and those who forgot to bring their own either had a friend to share with or made a mad dash home.

Zim nervously stared at the rain. It was a week ago that he applied his paste, but maybe it would still be effective?? He sticks a finger out only to quickly retract it, feeling it burn from just a single drop of rain.

Zim cursed under his breath, wishing he had never believed a human weather-man, as clearly, the sky wasn't as sunny as predicted.

Unfortunately, however, while standing around, one of the students decided to have some fun and shoved Zim down the small flight of stairs and into the rain. Zim hits the ground, feeling the small puddle of water forming on the concrete burn his skin, as well as the rest of the endless downpour falling from the sky. He screams and squirms around like a dying bug before managing to get up off the ground and under a tree.

This new shelter doesn't provide much cover, but it was better than nothing.

Feeling his body burn and blister, Zim holds himself tightly, damning this planet's water.

“W-Why does it hurt more than usual??? “ Did it have something to do with whatever Dib had done to him???

Excited to finally get home, Dib meets up with Gaz, telling her his amazing plan about sharing an umbrella with Plotty, but she doesn't seem that interested, instead, she seems more interested in a particular tree out by the front of the Skool.

“Gaz are you-” Dib stops mid-sentence, noticing a few of the students laughing, mimicking some kind of bug before pointing at the same tree Gaz was staring at. Then, it finally clicks. Zim is behind the tree.

Dib looks at the tree for a moment, but he can hear Plotty approaching with her friends… He looks back towards the tree again, thinking about his recent dream…

“Hey, Gaz… I'll meet you back home. Tell Dad I’m running late.” 

“Alright…” Gaz says, and just like that, Dib takes off toward the tree without saying another word. She watches and smiles ever so slightly, approving of her brother’s decision.

“What's wrong Space boy? Did your robot eat all your paste again??” Dib laughs, mocking the green boy. Zim glares, furious, especially because Gir actually wasn't at fault this time.

“Silence, Dib-worm!! I-” Before Zim can continue, Dib suddenly holds out his umbrella over his head. Zim’s body instantly feeling relief from the rain with the new shelter.

“Unlike you MIGHTY Irkens, I can handle the rain,” Dib says, letting himself get completely soaked by the rain.

Zim glares at him, feeling something sickly and squirmy in his stomach again, so he shoves Dib to the ground after taking the umbrella.

“You- Do not mock the Irken empire!!” Zim says, but Dib just laughs.

“D-Do not laugh at Zim!!” 

“I’ll stop laughing when you're MIGHTY empire isn't affected by a little water” “Dib teases, standing back up to his feet. 

Pissed, Zim begins to make his way home, but he's annoyed further when Dib follows him.

“Do not follow Zim! Just because you gave me this water shield device, does not mean I will allow you into my base!” Zim hisses.

“It's an umbrella. And yeah, I know… but if I don't walk back with you I won't get my umbrella back, and I'm pretty sure Dad’ll be mad if I lose another umbrella” Dib says, walking beside Zim.

Zim grumbles, but its when Dib suddenly sneezes that Zim practically jumps like a cat and backs away from him, his back hitting the wooden fence beside him.

“G-GERMS!!!”

“It was just a sneeze Zim” Dib says, hoping the alien won't come back to Skool covered in weird burger meat again.

“But….so….GERMY!”

“Zim-!” Dib sneezes again and Zim screams.

“D-don't come any closer to Zim!!” Zim says, most likely threatening to kick Dib if he didn't listen.

“Geez, alright” Dib, not wanting any more injuries, agrees to keep his distance, rolling his eyes.

While they continue the rest of the walk in silence, Dib starts to shiver and can't help but wish he had just walked Plotty home, then he would still be dry and wouldn't be freezing his butt off for the ungrateful alien.

Zim on the other hand, was somewhat pleased that Dib was antagonizing him again instead of drooling over that stupid GIRL, even if he WAS annoying.

He looks at Dib for a moment, soaking wet as he gets pelted by the rain, then he looks down at the umbrella handle in his hands, and his stomach feels sick again, but this time, his chest tightens.

Thanks to this device, his body was already dry and his pack had healed his body from the rain, but Dib was just a weak and pathetic human, so his temperature had gradually dropped while in the rain… and despite that, he still gave away his water shield device to him.

Zim, staring at the ground intensely, steps close enough to Dib, allowing the umbrella to cover them both. Confused and even shocked, Dib looks at him with a bewildered expression. 

“U-unlike you STUPID humans, I, A MIGHTY Irken, can recover quickly from such rain…! So… Zim shall share…. BUT DON'T EVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN!!!” Zim says, his face suddenly feeling warmer than usual.

Dib just stares at him, and blinks a few times… because he had to be seeing things right? There was no way Zim was… blushing right now…right???

“I-I won't, promise…” Dib says, but when he wipes away the water from his glasses, Zim was already looking away…

He must have just been seeing things earlier. He’s pretty sure Zim isn’t even capable of blushing.

The walk home is still silent, but Dib's been able to somewhat dry off a little bit by staying out of the rain, and thankfully, the rain finally starts to let up as Zim’s house comes into view.

As usual; upon his arrival, Zim’s ROBO Parents welcome him home, as well as Gir from the kitchen..

Dib couldn't help but lean over, feeling nostalgic at the sight of the house, as well as the smell of freshly made waffles coming from the kitchen.

Zim freezes, his antennas practically sticking out of his wig when Dib’s chest presses against his face. The dampness of the shirt burns, but that's not why Zim’s face was burning up, his heart starts racing, as if desperate for oxygen.

“Y-Y-You're mission is over!! N-Now be gone with you!!” Zim says, shoving Dib onto the pavement, and tossing him the umbrella back before quickly slamming the door behind him. His heart was pounding so quickly, he thought his chest might burst, and his face felt so hot, he felt like he had been baking in the sun, not to mention the weird flippy feeling in his belly.

“T-This is simply not normal!!”

“Aww, what's wrong master??” Girl asks.

“ T-That Dib….h-he 's done something to me!! H-he’s planted a bomb inside me or something!!” Girl cheers in delight, wishing he himself could explode.

“Q-Quite Girl! T-Tests! I need to run more tests!” Zim says before he rushes to the lab, running various tests on himself, and typing in all the strange symptoms he's been experiencing. He runs everything through the computer, hoping to get a proper diagnosis this time.

“Calculation complete. Results. You are in love with the Dib creature.”

“What!? There must be some kind of mistake!! I can't love! I'm Irken!! A-And Dib is the enemy!!” Zim says, feeling his face heat up and his chest swell, almost as if his own body was disagreeing with him.

“According to Irken history. Love is not impossible for the Irken empire, it is simply just irrelevant. Though unused, Irkens still retain their required bodily organs for reproductive purposes in case the Irken Empire should ever reach dangerously low numbers resulting in near extinction.” The computer exclaims, horrifying its master.

“T-This can't be…!! I-I can't possibly be in love with Dib….!! I… I HATE him!!” Zim says, as if declaring war with the universe, and maybe even himself.

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 16

anakin x reader

a/n: this chapter is a longer one, i have so many plans for the future of this story and there’s gonna be a looot of angst (hope that’s good w u guys hehe)

You finally tell Anakin the news you had been dreading

warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, insecurity, mentions of pregnancy, arguments, verbal degradation (not the fun kind), slut shaming, alcohol abuse, relapse, mentions of alcoholism, just heavy chapter all around

_______________________________

“Anakin…I’m pregnant” 

He froze.

If you hadn't spent so much time together, you wouldn’t have even noticed the shift in his demeanor, but you knew him and you knew something was wrong.

“What did you say?” he responded stiffly.

You took another deep breath and repeated.

“I’m pregnant, Anakin”

He stood from the couch, blankly staring at you.

“I don’t know how, I thought you said you didn’t- you couldn’t… “ you started, hoping to alleviate his unsettling aura.

“I cant.” he cut you off.

“I don't know what to do, I’m scared!” you cried.

He was still just standing there.

“Please, Ani-, Please say something!” you begged.

“Get out”

“What?” 

“Get out of my house” he repeated.

“Ani-”

“Don’t fucking call me that”

“Anakin, what- why are y-”

“get the fuck out!” he shouted as he pointed towards the exit. 

“You and I know damn well I can’t have children, so that's just heartless to even bring that up to me.” his face held a viscous scowl as he yelled at you. 

“But It’s true! I’ve been to the clinic, I have the-” you pleaded with him. 

“And it wasn’t me, so who the fuck got you pregnant? You aren’t the fuckin’ virgin Mary, so you have to be fucking someone else?” he spat.

“I swear, I have only been with you Anakin, I’ve only been with you” you cried

“Don’t fuckin lie to me, Y/N!”

“I trusted you...I shared myself with you and this? This is what you do?” he yelled as he began to breathe heavily. 

“I’m not lying” you pleaded with him.

“I don’t wanna hear it”

“I’ll get a test, I-I’ll show you all my messages, I-i’ll do whatever, please, PLEASE! I’m telling the truth- You have to believe me!” you were full on sobbing on his living room floor. 

His breathing was becoming jagged and he stumbled back to reach for his inhaler.

“I don’t have to do shit” he said venomously before grappling with the small device in his hands. 

“Ana-”

After he took a large puff of medicine he shouted for you to leave once more.

“I told you to leave, don’t make me throw you out” he said with such disdain.

Even with his limitations, you knew he was strong enough (and angry enough) to do just that. So, weakly, you gathered yourself from the floor and stumbled out of his apartment onto the sidewalk where you collapsed once more. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that. You clutched onto your shirt and sobbed, not only were you pregnant, you may have just lost the man you loved.

_____________________

The next few days consisted of you floating in and out of reality as you sat absent-mindedly in your classes. You were only getting one meal a day and spent most of your time cocooned in your bed, facing the standard dorm-beige wall.

You didn’t have the energy or the will to do anything…you could feel depression creeping up on you.

Even if you got rid of it, your relationship with Anakin was basically over. But if you kept it you would be stuck as an undergrad student with a baby… not exactly a great way to start your adulthood. 

Ahsoka stopped by to check up on you after she hadn’t heard from you for three days; she came with your favorite snacks and some other stuff to cheer you up. 

The two of you had a self care night and you told her what had happened over the weekend with Anakin (Of course keeping out the fact that he is the one who knocked you up). You told her how angry he was that you were pregnant and not because you were young, instead he was just mad that you had been in a situation to get pregnant.

“Ash, he threw me out… h-he literally threatened to physically throw me out” you cried as you recounted the traumatizing fight.

The tears spilled over as you struggled to breathe, “I jus-st don’t u-understand why he-” a loud sob cut you off.

Quickly Ash gathered you into her arms and coached your breathing.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok… Let’s breathe, ok?” 

You nodded and sniffled.

“Ok, Deep breath in through your nose… good. Now out through your mouth” 

Once you were calmed down she responded to your news. 

Her older friend’s behavior disgusted her, “Y/N im so sorry. Truly, I have no idea what has gotten into him…He has no right to talk to you that way.”

You thanked her for being there for you and tried to move on with the girls' night, you needed to focus on the small bouts of happiness you could find.

The next day, you went ahead and told Ben and Satine, because they were the last two in the friend group you hadn’t told and it covered up the reason you told Anakin (Instead of letting them know you told him asap because he was the father).

Even though he was a total ass, you still wanted to respect the privacy deal the two of you struck back in the beginning of your relationship. Though honestly, you were starting to not give a fuck about the secret; a part of you wanted everyone to know he got you pregnant and was now being a complete asshole about it. 

Days went by and then weeks where you silently hoped for an apology from Anakin, but you knew it wasn’t coming.

Since the confession, he closed himself off from everyone; he no longer attended dinners, texted in the group chat, and you hadn't even physically seen him since then. 

Everyone still got together for the routine dinners, the only difference was that Anakin was a “no-show”. The four of you discussed his recent absences (of course you knew that it was probably because he hated your guts right now, but that was no reason to cut off everyone else), you all worried that he may be drinking again.

Ben explained back when he was first struggling with drinking, he’d disappear like this for days or even weeks, going on unhealthy and reckless benders. 

The more Ben told you about Anakin’s past patterns, you felt more and more sick to your stomach. What he described was wildly unhealthy and you hated that you could be the catalyst that turned him back down that path. 

At the end of the dinner the four of you agreed that Ahsoka would go over to Anakin’s and confront him; Ben and Satine both had work and they thought it best not to send you, incase he was drinking and became violent (plus you didn't think he’d react well to you showing up at his door).

Also, Ahsoka had lots of experience calling Anakin out on his bullshit- she could stand her ground against him drunk or sober. 

Hopefully the group would finally get some answers out of him. 

_____________________________________

Ahsoka arrived and noticed that all of his blinds were drawn and the mail in his box was piled up. 

She took a deep breath; she could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. 

Anakin hollered an aggressive,  “Who is it?”, when he heard the knock. 

“Snipps. I’m comin’ in Sky guy, alright?” she said as she pushed the door open. 

Anakin squinted as the light from outside shone through the doorway; he was lying on the couch in a shirt and a pair of old army shorts and wasn’t wearing his legs. 

Ahsoka gently closed the door behind her and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It was a mess; dishes all around, dirty clothes scattered on the floor, TV on, and sadly… bottles…all around. 

He relapsed. 

Everyone knew he had been doing really well about keeping his drinking under control, but there were worries of a relapse when no one had heard from him. 

Anakin glanced over to his friend, “I like the new hair, Snipps”.

Ahsoka had her hair rebraided and added more white and blue a while ago. 

“Thanks, It's not that new though, I got them done like two weeks ago. But you wouldn’t have known that, right?” she passive aggressively said.

His blue eyes glared at her as if to say “what the hell did you just say?”.

“Well hello to you too” he huffed as he brought the bottle of rum in his hand to his lips. 

Beside the couch was Anakin’s wheelchair; he usually avoided using it at all costs.

“I didn’t feel like going through the hassle of puttin’ my legs on” he said when he noticed Ahsoka looking at his chair. 

Ever since he could stand to have his legs on, he always wanted to have them on; he never wanted to feel “helpless” and for some reason he was ashamed of his wheelchair. But the fact that he had it out now was a major concern. He wasn’t doing well. 

“Anakin, where have you been?” she sighed defeatedly.

“Uhh, look around, then tell me what you think?” he shot back at her with a patronizing laugh. 

“That’s not what I mean”

“Then enlighten me, what do you mean?” he was getting defensive and irritated, but she was not leaving until she got to the bottom of his sudden absence. 

“We haven’t seen you in weeks. Ben and Satine are worried, so is y/n, and so am I”

“Why would that bitch be worried about me?” he snapped as he tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin beside the couch.

“I know you aren't talking about y/n right now” Ahsoka became defensive and was starting to lose her patience with the man in front of her. 

“Maybe I am, why the fuck would you care if I was?” he said as he cracked open another bottle.

“I heard how awful you were to her”

“Yea. And who’s to say she didn’t deserve it?” he annoyedly stated, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you so upset that y/n is pregnant?! I mean sure she’s young, but it's her life!” Ahsoka yelled at the half drunk man on the couch.

“You wouldn’t understand, Snipps,” Anakin said, resting his head on one of his gloved hands and taking a swig of rum with the other.

“Maker, sometimes you're such an asshole.” Ahsoka huffed. 

“I am not an asshole, she’s the one who fucked up, ok?” he snapped back

Ahsoka narrowed her gaze and watched angrily as Anakin tilted back his bottle once more. 

“You gotta stop with the drinking Anakin.”

“Add it to the list of shit I gotta fix” he huffed out a laugh.

“You were doing so well-”

“Do you not think that I know that? I fucking know I fucked up my sobriety, you don’t have to remind me!” he yelled.

She sighed, “I just don't understand where your aggression is coming from”

“I’m not being aggressive, I’m treating y/n how she deserves to be treated, like the whore she is.”

Ahsoka stomped up to Anakin and snatched the rum out of his mechanical hand.

“What the fuck Ahsoka!?” he yelled.

“You have no right call her a whore, I don’t fucking know what your problem is Anakin Skywalker, but i’ll be damned if I allow you to talk about y/n that way. After all she’s done for you?’.

The color drained from Anakin’s face and he froze.

“Yea. I know she’s come over here to help you, I know she offered to help you when you had to be in your chair that week, I know she helped you when you fucking fell out of bed cause you were too wasted to get up and go piss!! You will not disrespect her like that!! Do not EVER say that again, do you hear me?! ” Ahsoka barked at the man in front of her.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, “Get out”.

“No, I’m going to find out why you’ve been acting like such a dick”

“I said OUT!” He shouted pointing to the door; not that he could really enforce his wish because he wasn’t coordinated enough to get out of his seat. 

“ANAKIN, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU! YOU ACT LIKE SHE WAS COMMITTING A DELIBERATE ACT AGAINST YOU WHEN SHE GOT PREGNANT” Ahsoka yelled back.

“SHE WAS” he practically screamed.

“What are you talking about?!”

He staid silent and looked away.

“wait…. Anakin…. Do you- do you have a thing for y/n”

Anakin let out an annoyed laugh and rolled his eyes. 

“Anakin, she has a boyfriend”

“I know”

“Then why are you upset? Is it because she’s with someone else?”

“No” 

“Then what is it?” Ahoska pleaded.

“The doctors said I couldn’t have children”

“I know that Anakin, what does that have to do wi-”

“I'm her boyfriend… well was.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, “what…”

“Yea, fuckin surprise. So it is a personal attack on me ‘casue how the fuck did she get pregnant if I cant have kids?” he lamented with a sad smug look.

Ahsoka shook her head, “Anakin, I think you should get your fertility checked again-”.

“Are you serious right now Ahsoka? Do you even hear what you're asking?”

Ahsoka’s face was serious as she spoke, “yes, it has been years since-”

“Do you not remember what happened last time? What happened with P-” his voice began to waver as he remembered the heartbreak of his last relationship, “Padme”.

“I remember, but I know for a fact y/n has not been with anyone else. She loves you. So much Anakin, and honestly I don’t know how she deals with you”. 

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I fucking do, I was there to see how much your words affected her. I was there to help her breathe when she was choking on her own tears. I saw a girl whose heart had just been shattered. Why would she be that upset if she wasn’t committed to you?”

Anakin’s heart fell.

Fuck.

A wave of guilt washed over him, maybe he was too quick to judge… but the doctors.. They said..

“I-I don't know what to say” he managed.

“You've said plenty, Skywalker.”

“Could you please tell her-”

“No Anakin. I’m done running interference for your fuck-ups” she said as she headed for the exit.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin called, attempting to follow her; in his drunken haze, he must have forgotten he didn't have his legs on. 

She turned as he landed on the floor with a thud. He groaned and he tried to get upright.

Ahsoka was still angry, but she knew he needed help. 

When she sat him up, he was sobbing.

“Fuck. Snipps, I loved her. I-I just felt like- like she- fuck!” he cried.

“You’re drunk, Anakin. I’m going to put you in bed and spend the night on the pull-out, but we’re done talking about this until you sober up and get a test”

He was shaking, but nodding his head “o-ok-ok o-ok” he repeated.

Ahsoka was drained, on one hand she knew why he was like this and as she helped him to bed all she saw was the kind hearted boy she grew up with. She saw how emotionally damaged he was, she knew how hard he had it. But that was no excuse to act the way he did; the other half of her was disgusted by his behavior and the fact that he spoke to you that way. 

She decided that she was making him an appointment tomorrow morning. No excuses.

___________________________________

The ride to the doctor’s office was silent, the only sound was Anakin’s occasional ragged breath from a night of crying. They arrived and Anakin was taken back to an examination room, but not before Ahsoka insisted he ask for a fertility test.

Anakin hated medical facilities, whether it be hospitals, doctors offices, orthotics offices, or the physio center; he had spent almost half his life in those goddamn places. He sat patiently for his examination and was compliant with his doctor's inquiries. 

“Do you have any more questions, Mr. Skywalker?” the doctor asked as he straightened his wiry glasses.

Anakin debated asking such an odd question at the moment, but he wouldn’t have peace of mind unless he asked (plus Ahsoka would kill him if he didn’t). 

“Yea… you know my results said I wouldn’t be able to have kids”

The doctor nodded as he met his patient’s eyes, “yes… are you inquiring about children?”

"Not really, but is it possible that some of me is still…viable?” his face was surely red with embarrassment.

“If you are asking me about the fertility possibilities for your sperm, we have a test for that, but you’d have to make an appointment at our clinic for fertility and It’ll cost a bit extra but we will be able to get the results back to you in a few weeks.”

“Could I-”

“Of course” the man in the white coat said as he promptly left the room.  

Anakin leaned back against the wall and exhaled a large breath. Fuck. Was he really going to do this again?

He could remember the anxiety he felt when going into that clinic for the first time with Padme all those years ago; the fate of his relationship was on the line back then. 

Now, he had ended his relationship with you but deep down he prayed that he would be able to have kids because the possibility of you cheating on him was tearing him apart. He wanted to believe you wouldn’t do that to him, but he wasn’t really counting on his viability– but after years of no activity, why now would they choose to become active?

But also he didn’t know how he would face you if he were viable…how would he make it up to you after treating you like…that?

***

a/n: next chapter comes after this in the theme line then imma do a small time jump to get to another plot point haha- i hope you guys are still enjoying!!

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimon

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so updated list of my WIPS;

Actually in progress;

- Offal and All (Kakashi's relationship with food throughout the years, mostly told through the eyes of others) I'm activley focusing on this one rn and hoping to post it like, this week actually. It's a mash up of a lot of different tiny Kakashi hc's I've posted about and should be very fun (and depressing, but that's kind of my brand, so.)

- One Step Three Steps chapter 10, it's going well so far actually I just keep writing it at work then being forced to stop bc like. Work. Might go up this week, hopefully

- Chasing Shadows chapter 4, it's like 20% done? Ish? I just need to find the head space to get back to writing it, will go up within the next 2 weeks for sure but idk when exactly. It'll be great tho ur gonna get Hikaku, Fugaku, Shisui, Mikoto, just all the cool Uchiha. Lots of politics, lots of drama, the works

- Itama and the secret senju weed empire fic,,,, it will be long and it will be beautiful which means it'll take me forever to do, sorry

- Magical Girl Izuna AU (my beloved) I got distracted by other projects midway through writing chapter 1 but I'll get there eventually

- Little lab mystery where kid edo-tensei reincarnations of Madara and Tobirama wake up with no memories and immediately stage a jail break

- Nin burger!!!!! Yes this is a real thing yes I meant to post it like the same week I started making it but then I got distracted and didn't. But I swear to fucking GOD I will see it complete. Nin Burger is my favorite real naruto restaurant that is real

- That one oneshot where Madara and Tobirama spend a festival night in the capital together as children, and Madara develops his very first crush on the fox masked boy, but seems to be doomed never to meet him again— till Konoha's first festival is held and he sees a man wearing the very same mask, waiting for him in the crowds. Might not actually finish this one tbh but also maybe I'll save it for tbmd week?? Idk

Considering / Planning;

- Hikaku as the Uchiha clan head after Madara's betrayal comic,,, not an actual fic but I wanna make this so bad. I've written notes for it I just need to get along to drawing it

- Izuna in Wonderland comic, honestly I'll probably end up doing the entire thing in one go one night when I get hit in the face w a brick w motivation. So it'll be a surprise for both u guys and me when I post that! I always do my comics in one go bc I physically can't bring myself to return to art projects if interrupted, which means I tend to do longer ones on my days off where I have literally nothing else to do or distract me, but I haven't had one of those in like. 2 months now. So. But I will soon!! Umm. Maybe.

- Here Before and After Me chapter 2, I'll probably make one eventually but who tf knows when. I have a very specific vision of Kakashi following Tobirama onto the battlefield and scaring the shit out of a very alarmed and confused Izuna

- Tobirama and Izuna's field trip through time and space, I don't think I want to commit to a full fic bc it'd be seriously long and I'm already commiting to Chasing Shadows and One Step Three Steps as my regular update long fics, then the MG Izuna au and Itama fic as my "write it all behind the scenes then post" long fics. One shots only for me, sorry. But I do wanna write a silly one shot of the boys crash landing face first into a konoha council meeting during their field trip

Dropped / Abandoned;

- That one mdtb space mermaid au, rip. Maybe I'll come back to u one day but for now I have a lot to focus on, sorry

- mdtb fish in a pond fic where Tobirama is half spirit and turns into a koifish that Tajima then brings home and tosses into the families koi pond

I think that's everything? I have a shit memory and do everything on my notes app then forget to categorize the notes half the time so I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I'd lost smthn else in my like billion different notes.

Those are the important ones tho, so, good enough!

[sixpennydame]

The Better Man | Chapter 7

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Read in AO3 here

Content/Warning: Explicit sexual conduct, NSFW, MDNI, descriptions of death, depression, vaginal sex, creampie, choking

A/N: A huge thanks to @mrsackermannx who supported me with some of the more intimate scenes. Only one more chapter to go...

Suggestion Music:

Levi was gone.

 But why he was taken by the Survey Corps, you do not know. When you feel stable enough to get up, you run over to the men who guard the stairs, hoping to get some information out of them.

“Tch, how are we supposed to know where they took them? But that short one sure was mad when they knocked you out,” snickered a curly haired man, a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Please, just let me through, I need to catch up with them,” you plead, but the surly men just laugh. 

You knew you were getting nowhere with the guards, so you went back to the apartment to get dressed and make a plan. Several of Levi’s gang are already there, pacing the floor and visibly on edge, all of them feeling as lost as you are.

“I need you all to get out there and find out what happened today. Find out who took Levi, Farlan, and Isabelle and why.” The young men know who you are and what you mean to Levi, so they follow your orders without delay. After they leave, you go to a corner of your bedroom, lift up a loose floorboard, and take out a dusty metal container. Inside is all the money you and Levi had saved in an effort to make it above ground. It probably wasn’t even enough to buy your entrance, but at this point you were desperate. You fold the bills and put them in a money belt around your waist. You know that the longer you linger here, the further away Levi will be and any trace of his whereabouts. 

At that moment, there’s a loud noise at the door. Before you even have time to answer it, two large men barge in and grab you. As you’re kicking and screaming, they put a muslin bag over your head, tie your wrists and ankles together, and drag you outside. You scream for help, hoping that someone - anyone - will respond and come to your aid. But no one does.

What could these men want? They haven’t searched you, so your money is still safely stashed in your belt, nor have they tried to beat or rape you. Could they be some kind of secret MP’s, given the task of arresting you as well?

This becomes more of a possibility as you hear them talking to the same guards you’d questioned earlier at the stairs’s entrance. The bigger one has you slung over his shoulder, but you can now feel that you’re going up stairs. Are you being taken above ground? Maybe you’ll be reunited with Levi after all. 

It feels like the stairs are never ending - you can even feel your ears pop as you move higher and higher. Suddenly, there’s a light shining through the bag over your head - a different kind of brightness and a heat you’ve never felt before. Even with your head covered, you have to close your eyes.

“What are you doing with me? I’ve done nothing wrong!” you scream out. 

The man holding you throws you into the back of a wagon but says nothing. You have no idea where they’re taking you and they only stop to let you relieve yourself. It feels like hour upon hour passes, but really you have no idea how much time has gone by. At some point, you fall asleep out of pure exhaustion and only wake up when the wagon comes to a harsh stop.

One of the men pulls you out of the wagon by your legs and you start kicking, but they easily overpower you. When they yank the bag off of your head, you stop resisting.

It’s so bright. You’re now keenly aware of the sounds around you: wagons and horses, people bustling by and talking to each other. When your eyes adjust, you begin to see images that go with the sounds. You’re above ground. It’s all overwhelming. 

“Where am I?” 

The men laugh. “You’re right outside Stohess District, within Wall Rose. You’ve just won the lottery, missy,” one of them says.

“W-what do you mean? I’m not being arrested?”

“Quite the opposite. You’re now a citizen of Wall Rose.” The other man throws a small leather satchel at you. Inside are your wall citizenship papers and other forged documents. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask the men as they get back on the wagon.

“That’s not our problem.”

You’re confused, but you know this has to have something to do with Levi, so you prod further. “Where is Levi? Where did the Survey Corps take him?”

“He’s dead,” one of them dryly replies as he flicks the reins and they drive away. 

You’re left in the dust of their departing wagon, dirty and hungry, your mind swirling with thoughts and questions. You’re not sure of where to go or what to do from here, but one thing is certain:

Levi is gone and you are alone.

_____

A large clap of thunder startles you and you drop the bowl you were carrying, shattering it into several pieces. A nasty storm raged through Trost late last night, and can still be heard, even in the distance. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Meyer,” you say as you pick up the pieces of the earthenware bowl, “thunder has always scared me, ever since I was a child. I’ll buy you another bowl.”

“Think nothing of it, dear,” Mr. Meyer kindly replies. “It was old anyway. And you must be eager for Lars to return.”

“Yes, it should be any day now.” It’s been a little over two weeks since the Corps embarked on their expedition and if everything went as planned, you expected their return either today or tomorrow. But you’d learned not to get your hopes up - anything could happen out there. 

You couldn’t help but feel especially eager this time around. In just a few more days, Lars will resign from the Survey Corps and you can continue the next part of your marriage together. You’ll start a family, buy some land, and who knows - maybe you could even have your own bakery. Anything seemed possible now. 

You daydream about being pregnant with Lars’ child and being a mother, which makes you nervous. You never knew your own mother - would you even be a good parent? You decide that love is the most important thing, and the child will certainly have more than enough of that from you and Lars. And you’ll be damned if your baby comes into an unloving, broken family. 

But for the briefest of moments, you think back to memories of wanting Levi’s child. How there were times you would secretly hope you’d get pregnant, even though Levi was always so careful. He’d deny it, but you knew he’d make such a wonderful father - a little overprotective, perhaps, but loving and doting..”

You will yourself to stop these thoughts. Levi is in the past, you repeat to yourself again and again.

Lars is your present, your future.

 As the late afternoon sun shines through the bakery windows, you hear the shuffling of people and voices outside. It’s a familiar kind of energy - the Survey Corps must be returning.

Mr. Meyers gives you a knowing glance and a nod, then you leave the bakery and take the all-too-familiar route to the town square, just as you’ve done for every other expedition. Lars will probably be helping unload injured or getting his own scrapes attended to. You work your way through the crowd, looking for any sign of Lars or his squad.

When you finally find Petra, Oluo, and Eld, you head straight to them. “Where’s Lars? Is he inside the hospital? How many stitches is it this time?”

Your smile disappears when you finally look at Petra. She has tears in her eyes. “Lars is..”

You start moving backwards, shaking your head.

No.

 “Where is he?” Your voice cracks.

Eld moves toward you and puts a hand on your shoulder. “His body was taken inside to be cleaned..”

You wince when he says “body” and pull his hand off of you. It’s not true, it’s not true, you say to yourself as you walk into the hospital and ascend each step.

Then you see Gunther and Levi, placing a covered body on a stretcher, their eyes cast downward. Your stomach drops.

You walk tentatively forward. When the two men see you, they step back, allowing you to stand next to the stretcher. “No…” your voice is barely a whisper.

You look at them, your eyes pleading to them to say it’s someone else - anyone else. But they can’t even look at you.

So you move toward the body and pull down the cover. Then it’s like all the breath has been knocked out of you.

There, under the cover, is Lars. His eyes are closed, peaceful, but you can’t look for more than a second before you start to feel dizzy and confused, as if everything is spinning. You stretch your hand out to brace yourself against the wall. 

Is someone saying your name? It sounds far away. You look at Levi - his mouth is moving. What is he saying? 

“What happened,” you somehow manage to ask. 

“There was a titan attack. An abnormal came out of the trees and my ODM gear wouldn’t work. He-,” Levi pauses for a moment, “he gave his life to save me.”

“Save you?” you repeat the words but it’s as if you can’t fully process anything you’re hearing. You feel completely numb. “Idiot..I told him to look after himself first. To keep himself alive so we..” you can’t even finish your sentence; the numbness is replaced with a deep sadness rising up from the pit of your stomach. 

A nurse comes into the corridor. “Excuse me, but we need to clean the body before it’s given to the family.”

Before she even has time to move the stretcher, you grab her hand. “I’m his wife - I’ll clean his body.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s against hospital regulation,” she tries to move her hand, but you’ve grabbed it hard.

“I don’t give a shit about regulations. Noone is gonna lay a hand on him.” Your voice is resolute.

Levi steps between you and the nurse. “I’ll deal with any administration that has a problem with what she wants to do. Just give her the room with him.” He looks at you, placing a gentle hand on top of yours. “Y/n, let go of the nurse.”

You release the nurse’s hand and she steps back. “Just..follow me,” she says, shaking her head and leading you all to a small room at the end of the hall.

Lars' body is brought into the room and laid on a cold, metal table. The nurse prepares the cleaning materials, then everyone leaves except Levi. You can feel him behind you. 

“Get out..” you weakly command. 

Levi says your name and reaches out to you. 

“Get out!” Your body bristles and your pain explodes into those two words. 

Then silence. What can Levi even say at this moment? He feels completely helpless. “I’ll be outside,” is all he can muster before he walks out and closes the door.

The afternoon sun is shining through the room, giving it a golden glow. A slight medicinal smell fills the air and it stings your nose, but other than that, you don’t feel anything. In a daze, you walk over to Lars and uncover his body. 

Death is a common sight in The Underground. It’s a shadow that follows everyone. If you didn’t die of malnutrition or lack of sunlight, you’d probably be killed by some other desperate soul just trying to survive. Rotting, decomposing bodies in the streets, abandoned and forgotten - by the time you were an adult, the sight barely phased you. 

But now, looking at your husband’s body, you feel queasy and faint. Bile rises up into your throat, and you have to swallow hard to keep it down. His body - it’s difficult for you to imagine him now as just a body - is bloody and dirty, and his right leg is missing from just above the knee. His skin is cold and stiff, and when you start taking off his uniform, more cuts and bruises are revealed. Numbness once again washes over you, a defense mechanism from enduring years of loss and pain. But you’ve never experienced a loss like this. 

There’s a basin of hot, soapy water next to the table so you take a sponge and begin washing his face and hair. As you continue down his body, tears begin to form in your eyes, the reality of your lover’s death sinking in more and more. But you blink them away - you’re not ready to mourn yet. 

When you finish, you cover him with a cotton sheet and it looks as if he’s only sleeping, but there's a smell in the air that reminds you otherwise. As you gently dry his hair with a towel, memories you had pushed aside for the moment suddenly come flooding back. You’d spent almost four years with this man and just like that, he’s gone. 

And that’s when the tears start falling down your cheeks. You take a deep breath and just start crying, your whole body convulsing with sorrow. It’s a physical pain that radiates from your heart and travels through your nerves. You drape your body over his covered torso, pleading for your lover to come back to you.

Levi sits in front of the door through the rest of the night; a silent sentinel as he listens to your muffled cries.

You awaken early the next morning to Levi gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up. Lars’ mother and father are here.”

You rub your swollen, bloodshot eyes. When did you finally fall asleep last night? Your head feels groggy, as if you’re in some state between sleeping and waking, but when Lars’ parents enter the room, you are jolted awake.

Lars’ mother clasps her hand over her mouth. “No..my boy..my sweet Lars..” she walks over to the table on which his body still lies. “No, no, no..” she wails.

His father takes his time walking over, but neither of them acknowledge your presence. He puts his hand on his wife’s shoulder as she weeps over Lars’ body. 

“We should get him to a mortician as soon as possible so we can take his body home,” he finally remarks.

“Yes..let me just go back home and change my clothes, and then I can meet you both later to depart for Ehrmich,” you weakly reply to him as you stand up to walk towards the door.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Lars’ mother shoots her head toward you. “As far as we are concerned, we have no more connection to you. We’ll handle Lars’ burial.”

You stand there in absolute shock at her words. “What do you mean? I’m his wife.”

“And we never wanted that for him. I mean, who even are you? You have no family, no history. We know absolutely nothing about you.”

She moves closer to you, her face contorted with grief. “Do you want to know why Lars never brought you to our home to visit? It’s because he knew that we disapproved of this marriage from the start. He was too good for you!” She looks around the room. “He was too good for any of this!”

“That’s enough, dear.” Lars’ father finally interjects, the pain and sorrow visible on his face. “I’m sorry, but it would be better if you’d let us handle things from now on.”

Some hospital staff arrive to help move Lar’s body out of the hospital. As his parents depart, the father stops as if he wants to say something to you, but shakes his head and moves on.

You stand in the now-empty room in complete shock. A voice inside you is screaming for you to fight back, to insist that you accompany Lars and his family back to his hometown. 

But you don’t because there’s another voice telling you that they’re right. You were never good enough for Lars, you’ve known that from the very beginning. For the last few years, you thought you were more, that you were worth something. Lars had made you feel that way. But you’ve always been just some trash from The Underground with no family and no future. 

Levi had stepped out of the room when the parents arrived, in order for you all to have privacy, but he was confused when you didn’t leave with them. When he looks in the room he sees you standing there in a daze. 

“Hey, you alright?” He says, eyes full of concern.

“I’m tired..”

“Why aren’t you going with Lars’ parents?”

“They don’t want me. I’m going home.”

He’s taken aback by those words. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, please I -“ you swallow hard. Your throat is so dry from crying. “I want to be alone,”

He watches as you walk away, wanting so badly to stop you, hold you close, and let you cry in his arms. But his own sadness and guilt stop him. Why did Lars do something so stupid? Why was he so reckless when helping others? You were finally in a place where Levi knew you would be safe and cared for, with a good man; now, that’s all gone.

Lars was the better man for you. He should be the one laying on that cold metal table; nobody would mourn him if he was gone.

Maybe she would, Levi thought to himself, as he looked out the window and saw you walk away.

You don’t really know how you get home, but somehow your body places one foot in front of the other and you walk out of the hospital and down the street. 

You feel completely empty - void of my feelings, tears, energy. Lars’ woolen military coat is hanging on a chair. You’d told him to bring it on the expedition, but he’d said it wasn’t cold enough yet. You grab the coat, hold it close, and fall onto the bed. It still smells like him - a mix of pine trees and sunshine - and you realize you’ll never smell that again, never feel his arms around you again. 

Your chest tightens and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. You gasp for air but it feels like it’s not enough to fill your lungs, as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. A few years ago, you’d almost drowned when you tried to swim with Lars in a lake outside Jinae. Your lungs ached for air and panic had set in until Lars was able to pull you up just in time. This feels exactly the same.

Except Lars isn’t here to save you this time.

You close your eyes, hoping you’ll fall asleep and never wake up.

_____

A week passes, and Levi is making his way to Trost. He volunteered to pick up supplies needed for Headquarters, which he could have easily assigned to someone lower in rank, but he wanted an excuse to check on you. The entire squad had traveled to Ehrmich District for Lars’ funeral and burial and he had expected to see you there, but you were nowhere to be found. When he asked the others, they hadn’t heard from you. 

Lars’ final words to Levi echoed in his mind daily. He had to make sure you were alright. 

He first stopped at the bakery, hoping you would be working, but Mr. Meyer said he hadn’t seen or heard from you since you’d left to meet the Survey Corps’ return. 

“I went by her home to see if she was ok, but no one had answered. I just assumed she’d stayed in Ehrmich with Lars’ family.”

Now Levi was worried. His stomach was in knots as he rode to your house and just as it was with Mr. Meyer, there’s no answer when he knocks. The door is locked, but Levi had learned how to pick a lock in his younger days, and he makes quick work of getting it open. 

It’s dark when Levi enters, and the air is stale and heavy. There’s a half eaten loaf of bread on the table and he notices a dying fire in the hearth, the only sign that you must still be here.

It’s when he enters the bedroom that he sees your body curled up on the bed, a wool blanket wrapped tightly around you.

He sits on the bed and moves your hair off your face; when he says your name, your head turns toward him. 

“Levi? What are you doing here?”

“Nobody has seen or heard from you. Have you even been outside lately?”

“I don’t know…what day is it?”

Levi looks around the unkempt room. “This place looks like shit,” he turns back to you, “and you look even worse.”

You tighten the blanket around you. “Please Levi..just leave me alone. I want to sleep.”

“From the looks of it, that’s all you’ve been doing.” Levi opens the curtains of the front window and starts cleaning up the place. There’s clothes strewn about everywhere and as he starts folding them and putting them away, he notices Lars’ wool jacket next to you. He puts it on a hanger. 

“I heated up some water. You need a bath.” You look so weak, and so Levi sits on the bed and lifts you into his arms. “Come on, let’s get you in the tub.”

He carries you to the washroom, your arms wrapped around his neck and your head leaning on his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d come to see me.”

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be stupid.” When he gets to the bathtub he puts you down and his expression softens. “I should have come sooner.”

You lift your arms and he helps you take off your sleeping gown. He thought you felt light when he carried you, but looking at your naked body, he can tell you haven’t been eating much, if at all. You hold his hand as you slowly step into the tub and sink into the water. 

You’re not sure why your body aches the way that it does, but the warmth of the water instantly makes you feel more alive. Levi sits next to the tub, wets a washcloth, and begins to wash your hair and weary body. 

Levi handles you as if you are the most precious thing, capable of breaking at a moment’s notice. His hands are gentle as he moves the washcloth over your arms and legs. 

A sigh escapes him as he looks at your emaciated state. “Y/n, what are you doing? You’re only hurting yourself by not eating.”

“Maybe that’s the plan.”

“Hey,” he grabs your chin and turns you to look at him, “don’t say shit like that.”

Your mouth turns downward. “Why do you care? You gave away that right a long time ago.”

He lets go of you, sadness and guilt shrouded in his eyes. “You know I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

“Right. You cared so much that you left.”

“I got you above ground. I..thought what I did was the right thing.”

“It wasn’t,” you say bluntly. “Can’t you see? You broke my heart into a thousand pieces. And just when I was putting them together again, this-”

You run your fingers through your wet hair, a knot of despair growing larger inside you. “There’s never a goodbye. Just the men I love, torn from me. I’m tired of being left behind.”

Levi sits there silently, his heart aching for you. He yearns to take away all your hurt and pain, but he knows that he’s the root of so much of your sadness.  

“It’s like I’m underground all over again. Any ray of light I touch…disappears. Why can I not keep anyone in my life?”

“I’m here. I’m in your life,” Levi retorts, but he knows it’s a weak defense.

“By chance, not by choice. If it wasn’t for Lars, if he hadn’t joined the Corps and your squad, I would still think you were dead.”

You’re right, he can’t deny it. He’d done it all so you’d have a chance at a new, better life, but had hurt you deeply in the process. “I…made the wrong choice. I’m sorry.”

You put your head in your hands, hopeless. “It’s too late for apologies.” You suddenly stand and step out of the tub, but Levi immediately reaches out to you. You try to get out his grip, but it only makes him hold on to you tighter.

“I’m all alone now.”

Levi sighs. “You’re not alone.”

“Oh yeah? Where were you when I was left to fend for myself in Stohess? When I had to sleep in alleyways and under bridges because I had nowhere to go? When I was knocked out and robbed of all the money you and I had saved?” You push his chest with each question. “Where were you when I searched every jail and prison in Wall Rose for any sign that you were alive?”

Levi grabs your shoulders and looks intently into your eyes. The same sad eyes of a little girl who’d been beaten and exploited by her father, with the same look you gave him when he rescued you from that brothel so long ago. When he was a boy he’d vowed to protect you, and now he knows he hadn’t lived up to that promise. 

“STOP. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving you, ever again.”

There’s silence except for your deep breaths. Without realizing it, he’s pulled you close; so close that your bodies are almost touching.

“You are?”

He’s forever tethered to you, he knows that now. He will never stop loving you, will never stop fighting for you. 

“..yes..” his voice is a whisper as he moves ever closer. He loosens his grip and you look at him with lidded eyes. There’s sadness there, but something else too. His eyes rove over your naked body and he dares to move his hands lower until they rest on the small of your waist. 

He hasn’t touched you in years, but it’s so familiar, your body instantly reacts to it. Without thinking, your hand cups his cheek. This yearning, this love, you can’t escape it; it’s left a deep scar that will never go away. You’d once thought of Levi’s love as a shadow, deep and cool; but his love is a fire, its heat consumes you until nothing is left but ashes and dust.  

And so you throw yourself into the flames.

Neither of you knows who moved first, but your lips crash together with a bold desire that can only be known between former lovers. You want him, you want him inside you, to fill this emptiness in your heart. You tug at his shirt while he pulls off his boots and undoes his pants, both of you desperate to feel something - anything - other than this deep pain and longing the two of you share. He grabs your breasts hard as you bite and kiss down his neck, and he takes in a breath when he feels your teeth. He grabs the hair at the nape of your neck and forces you to look at him; the look in your eyes is wild and untethered and he grows hard with desire. He lifts you up and presses you against the tiled wall. 

Your legs wrap around him as his cock enters you, so forcefully that it takes your breath away. But you welcome the pain and Levi thrusts even harder, his lips all over you.

“I’m here. I’m right here…feel me? Can you feel me right here?”

“Y-yes..” you moan. “Levi…I need you,” you plead. “Harder…”

He grunts as he pounds into you. “I tried to stay away from you. I wanted you to be happy without me. But I can’t.” He moans. “I can’t.”

Your hand grips his hair and you close your eyes, losing yourself to the pleasure of Levi fucking you. You’d never forgotten this feeling, even though you hadn’t touched each other for so long. 

He lifts you up a little higher then walks you over to the bed. Although he throws you down and is on top of you in an instant, you quickly turn the tables and push him down. You straddle him and begin to rub your swollen pussy over his cock, but when he can’t take it anymore he grabs your hips and pushes himself inside you. The act warrants a loud moan from both of you, then you’re riding his cock, his fingers digging into your hips as you move them up and down. You sit up and put your hands on his chest; as if you were made for him, your walls stretch around his girth. It all feels like you’re moving on pure instinct; your logical mind shuts off as you give in to your primal desires.

But then it suddenly hits you - you’re fucking Levi on your bed; the same bed that you and Lars shared. Emotions overwhelm you as you think about the intimate moments shared with him here. Now, he’s gone and Levi is here; the man who left you alone and abandoned, even when he claims to love you.

Pleasure and pain. Hurt and desire. Love and guilt. Each emotion manifests in every snap of your hips. 

The next thing you know, your palm closes over his throat, flattened fingers closing in on the sides of his neck, and his eyes flash. The subtle dominance of your grip is the personification of your hold on him, as you wordlessly demand his every sound and breath in this moment.

Being manhandled like this by you, your act of taking his reigns like he’s not fucking the breath out of you makes his lip curl. The gesture does not go unnoticed by you, so with your eyes locked, you dare a little pressure against his throat just to show him. The thinning of oxygen seems to cut through any numbness he felt, leaving him stripped bare with every single sensation from you running unbridled through his veins.

You feel it, your power over him as all his defenses break down. A moan escapes your mouth as he hits a deeper spot of pleasure, nails sinking into his biceps. “I knew it. You’ve been waiting to get me like this,” you lean closer, “haven’t you?”

You couldn’t stop the words leaving your throat; it felt like if Levi was going to help you through this like he promised, then you needed to twist the knife. Nothing with you and Levi was ever easy. 

Your words, mingled with his own guilt, spark a feral anger in him. Enraged, he flips you over, pinning your hands above your head and pushing your legs against your chest as he fucks you hard without mercy or remorse. 

He leans in close, his sweat dripping on your chest. “My apologies aren’t good enough, so what do you want me to say? Huh? That it drove me crazy to think of you fucking another man, when I knew you were mine? That this pussy has always been mine. That so many times, I wanted to fuck his scent off of you.” 

His grip on your wrists tightens. The sound of his skin slamming into yours reverberates through the room. “But you belong to me. You always have.”

“Y-yes..” you moan. There’s no denying it from either of you any longer. You have always been Levi’s - mind, body, and soul.

When he feels his climax approaching, he doesn’t pull out. He wants to claim you, once and for all, so he comes inside you with one hard thrust.

His cock twitches as it fills you up, but you don’t resist it. Even after his climax, he continues to grind into you until you meet your own orgasm - an intense jolt of pleasure surging through you. 

You lie next to each other, sweaty and breathless. You’d laid yourselves bare to each, physically and emotionally - no more lies, no more pretenses. But your body’s pleasure was quickly being replaced with a feeling of guilt. Had you been pretending with Lars all along? No, what you had with him was true. But why does being with Levi feel so right?

Levi pulls you into his arms and you put your head on his chest. You can hear his heart beating, steady and strong. “It’s not wrong, what we did,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “I love you. I’m going to take care of you.”

You answer by wrapping your arm around his waist. He loves you; after everything, he still chooses you. Maybe this is a chance to begin again. 

The afternoon passes and neither of you move from each other’s arms. Eventually, Levi rises from the bed.

“I need to get back to Headquarters. They’ll wonder what happened if I don’t return soon.” 

You watch him as he walks to the washroom, gathers his clothes, and gets dressed. “Don’t go,” you plead. 

He looks at you and his face softens as he ties his ascot. “I have to, but I’ll be back in 3 days. I’m going to have some food sent to you and I want you to eat. No more starving yourself.”

As he walks by the bed you sit up and grab his arm. “Don’t go back, Levi. Quit the Survey Corps. We can leave this place, together. Just us - like it used to be.”

His eyes widen then his face grows serious as he sits next to you. “You know I can’t do that. I made a promise, one that I don’t take lightly.”

Those words feel like metal in your veins. “Lars said the same thing.” Your eyes water. “And what of your promise to me?”

“I don’t intend on breaking either.” His voice is resolute. “We can discuss this more later, but until then I want you to take care of yourself.”

He caresses your cheek and kisses you once more, and then you hear the front door open and close as he returns to his world.

_____

In three days time, Levi is again riding to Trost. He didn’t make up an excuse this time, but only mentioned that he was going to check on you. No one would question that - Lars was an important part of his squad after all - but he wasn’t sure how you two should move forward in your relationship. It would need to be kept secret for a while, to avert any malicious gossip toward you. Honestly, he didn’t know how this was going to work, but he knows he wants to be with you. Too much time had already been wasted.

He knocks on the door of your house and just like before, there’s no answer; this time, however, the door is unlocked. Everything is clean and in its place, but as Levi walks from room to room, there’s nothing but darkness. 

“Can I help you with something?” An older woman calls from the entrance. When Levi turns around, she recognizes him immediately - everyone knows him in Trost. “Ah, Captain Levi. What can I do for you?”

“The woman who lived here, where did she go?”

Her face turns to a scowl. “She disappeared in the night about two days ago. At least she cleaned up and left money for the remainder of her rent.”

Levi’s heartbeat quickened. “And she gave no word of where she was going?”

“No…nothing. Oh, she did leave this on the table.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out a simple gold band. “I wasn’t sure what to do with it.” 

The woman hands it over to Levi and he presses it between his fingers, his other hand turning into a fist as the cold reality of it all hits him like a slap to the face:

You’re gone.

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[cienie-isengardu]

Cracked Mirror of Black, Cold Soul [Chapter 2]

Author notes: Continuation of this, formely posted just as "MK1 Fanfiction".

I'm writing it as Shang Tsung & Bi-Han's sort of friendship but if anyone like it as Bi-Han/Shang Tsung then that's great too. Also, nothing dark/graphic so far, but maybe in future I will go more into Shang Tsung's experiments, poverty and probably a bit depression. Just saying in advance as I'm aware my idea of "not graphic" may vary from other people's.

No enemy has come that day or another nor the next week. Shang Tsung fell back into his routine - studying, training, experimenting, once in a while getting the needed supplies, and then studying more, training more, creating more devious traps to apparently keep a certain cryomancer amused. The books and scrolls kept disappearing and showing up a few days later, even if he did not see Sub-Zero for weeks. 

Sometimes there was a note attached to returned volumes. Usually short messages, about Li Mei’s search for him or General Shao’s impatience or a new bounty on their heads or to avoid a specific place at certain times. He read the notes, mesmerized its contents, then burned the paper to not leave any unnecessary loose ends if he ever was forced to abbadon the fortress in a hurry.  

Sometimes the note said trivial things. Like under any circumstances do not eat those mushrooms you moron! - and indeed the mushrooms he found in a nearby field disappeared without a trace from his kitchen. Which was truly a shame, for if those truly were toxic he could at least study them to make a new poison or maybe even magic potion or two. More often than not though the message was clean up the mess! which did not amuse him at all. A bit of blood here and there and a misplaced organ or two and everyone was a critic these days. Like it was his fault the creative process at times got messy. No genius was even truly understood and in such moments he did miss Damashi, her kind hand on his back, the melodic voice encouraging him to transcend the boundaries of already possessed knowledge.

Sub-Zero sounded more like a mother hen than a deadly warrior and Shang Tsung for sure did not need anyone mothering him. He was a grown up man, he survived living in Outworld’s wild, uncaring hinterlands alone for hundredth of years, he did not need anyone’s help nor care. It was a matter of pride but also the bitter taste of betrayal that held him back from trusting anyone ever again.

He left his own notes then.

Stop fussing, I knew the mushrooms were poisonous, even though he had no idea, as he had never heard of poisonous mushrooms before. There were plenty of dangerous places in Outworld yet not many uneatable things to worry about. And sure, the fungus looked funny, with nice red caps and pretty white dots, like snow that embellished blood pool, which was specifically a reason why he picked it up in the first place. But why should he not, if the island was part of the Edenia realm and the mainland not so far away? The climatic zone was correct, the ruins were covered with Edenian letters even if the words made little sense to him. As far as he managed to check, he did not find any unusual plants here, no new animal species. Up to this moment, he had no reason to worry about flora and fauna surrounding him as nothing stood out… well, maybe beside the one white pigeon that so eagerly cooed at the sight of him and as it turned out, the funny mushrooms he found by accident and collected on impulse. The sense of danger did not cross his mind and if not Sub-Zero’s warning, he would eat the mushrooms soon. Maybe the edenian blood would neutralize the toxins that Earthrealmer was so concerned about, or maybe not. Now, he had no means to test it one way or another. Begrudgingly he accepted that Lin Kuei potentially saved, if not his life from food poisoning then at least his dignity, but the man did not need to know that.

The note disappeared the day he wrote it, alongside a few scrolls. A week later the paper showed up in the same spot with additional DID YOU?, and even the carefully calligraphed few edenian letters sneered at him mockingly. The rush of blood burned his cheeks and he did not need the mirror to know how red his face was. Out of anger, pure anger, not embarrassment, he told himself firmly while the note turned into ash in his hand. He wanted to burn much more and he would do so, if not the book on which note was left.

Shang Tsung stared at the thick book with a deeply red cover, pondering whether he should open it and bear the reason why the annoying Earthrealm left it there or just fed the flames of hearth with that blasted thing. It didn't matter what was inside the book, only how to not lose the weird game they played for weeks, with no rules and no clear idea who was actually winning. Losing never sat well with him and yet he couldn’t help himself than take a chance, any chance, to prove how better, smarter he was compared to others. And Sub-Zero clearly was exploiting that weakness, slowly and deliberately with each little note, each little sharp remark and additional subtext hidden in black ink, in elegant shape of letter. 

The man mocked him and challenged and Shang Tsung loved that game and cursed it in the same breath. The island was a wonderful sanctuary as much as a lonely, dark place and Sub-Zero, whatever the man knew or not, brought so needed entertainment to keep the sorcerer from going mad. Not that Shang Tsung would ever admit that aloud but fact remained a fact, whether he liked it or not.

The book was definitely not made in Outworld. It was not even a matter of unfamiliar letters but the whole texture of deeply red cover and snowy-white pages inside. Once opened, it smelled of ink but not like the yellowed, hand-written books did. To his own surprise, the smell reminded him of freshness, something new and still unspoiled, so it couldn’t be a second-handed volume either. This pleased him, more than it should. Before Damashi walked into his life, he rarely could afford to buy good quality items; the tailored robes and beautifully illustrated books were always out of his reach. How many times he stared at the richness of colors, how many times inhaled the storm of unique, unknown smells when he passed the small town’s market only to turn away from each stall? When a person needed to choose between food or new shoes for he could afford only one, it was no choice at all. The basic needs always processed anything frivolous, for luxury was nothing more than just a sweet dream to lull the poorest to sleep and torment them by day. 

Shang Tsung now had the money and means to spoil himself with the best; the finest food and sweetest wine, the most soft fabrics and tailored robes, the expansive magic ingredients he dreamed of having as a child. So of course fate spit into his face, as now the gold meant nothing. Only the power he held mattered. The same power now threatened by Fire Lord and Empress Mileena and even by his maybe-still-maybe-not allies.

A warmth spread through his cold, bitter soul at the mere thought the book was brand new and brought specially for him. Even if Sub-Zero did so only to scoff at him, to mock, he still went with the finest gift and not some rubbish. The gesture touched him, surprisingly deeply. Not many people these days bothered to spoil him a bit here and there.

Encouraged by the treacherous feeling, he opened the book on the first page and slowly started examining its content. He couldn’t read it though, as Damashi taught him only how to speak Earthrealm’s most common languages - the one similar to Edenian and the so-called English that tasted weird on his tongue whenever he was forced to use it. Damashi promised soon it would be irrelevant knowledge anyway, so he did not bother learning the unfamiliar letters. Like all other promises of hers, this one too turned out to be a false prophecy. With each passing day, the choking realization hurt a bit less. Each passing day also proved how much she witholded and weakened him on purpose, how much he needed to learn all those supposedly meaningless little things anyway.

Looking back, how he admired the mysterious woman, how he desired her praise and smile, was such a laughable memory. What an ally she turned out to be! And yet, Damashi taught him everything he knew about true magic and above all else, the final lesson will forever stay with him: to never trust anyone, especially those kind to him.

But… Sub-Zero wasn’t necessarily nice to him and he took as much as he gave, considering the rate at which books and precious scrolls disappeared all the time. There was no promise of great power, no sweet praise to make Shang Tsung starve for more attention. The man barely interacted with him in person, more interested in knowledge hidden between yellow pages than what Shang Tsung could do for him. A fair deal, a secret for secret, as apparently Sub-Zero liked to collect those, even the most trivial ones and he did bring a lot of important news to the sorcerer in exchange. 

It wasn’t a kindness, Shang Tsung hummed to himself, just the fairest deal he ever made. 

And who could know where this little deal will take them in future? Honestly has never been his forte while Lin Kuei Grandmaster was as straightforward as a killer could be anyway. And yet so far they balanced well between a little sweet lie here and brutal truth there. No matter how many times he asked, Sub-Zero did not reveal how he found the island nor how he got in and out of there, the same as Shang Tsung never spoke about his experiments done in the laboratory. They just accepted the unspoken agreement as it was, for now at least, and he cherished the weird comfort of having someone around while also not being directly questioned with the endless list of why, when, if.

The book felt heavy in his hand - heavier than it had right to be for with offered knowledge came a pitiful hope.

Maybe Sub-Zero could, if not outright teach, then at least help him to learn Earthrealm letters… if the words found a way to slip through the tight throat and clenched teeth. Asking for help was, in his experience, a sign of weakness he couldn’t afford. Yet he couldn’t afford to stay ignorant either, and the beautiful book held in hands tempted with promises of great knowledge - if he could read it.

Not for the first time he wondered why Sub-Zero wrote all the little notes left for Shang Tsung in the sorcerer’s own language. After the first time seeing the familiar letters of his native dialect in elegant yet unknown handwriting, he figured out that Lin Kuei already checked out his background and gathered all that was out there to learn from; to steal secrets and maybe even blackmail him if needed. Shang Tsung was not concerned about it, as there was not much to collect. A pitiful life of a lone salesman left little to remember about in the minds of common folks. Even if Lin Kuei managed to track down his former clients, those naive, desperate fools from all Outworld hinterlands, all they would learn was the obvious truth: the old-him was a fraud, a cheater, a loser never loved or missed even by his own folks.

Lin Kuei could learn more from his time at Sindel’s court, however Empress Mileena waged war on them. Not that it stopped Sub-Zero and his men from slipping into capitol, in her own palace, but some secrets still were out of their reach, at least for now. 

The only question left was if Sub-Zero knew the sorcerer couldn’t read Earthrealm’s letters and indulge Shang Tsung out of pragmatism? Or was that matter of courtesy, some good manners that mattered to Grandmaster enough to bother? The sorcerer did not like the uncertainty but he couldn’t ask, not yet, for asking meant admitting great lacking in his worldly education. Even worse, admitting the Lin Kuei Grandmaster - anyone - was better than him, and it didn’t matter how trivial such superiority was. 

Shang Tsung could bear Royal Family and Liu Kang’s Champions mockery and hate without blinking an eye, but he would faster swallow his own tongue than allow his maybe-maybe-not ally to think he was the lesser one in their partnership.

But why Grandmaster didn’t just write the next messages in English or any other Earthrealm’s language to test Shang Tsung and then to mock his illiteracy? Why not push and push, until he couldn’t lie anymore and needed to admit defeat? Why did the man spared him the humiliation when even his own, godly-self had no mercy?

It was the riddle that bothered Shang Tsung the most. Not the uncertainty itself, but faint yet no less warm hope that, despite bitter memories, filled his cold, black soul. 

Kindness was a dangerous, treachery tool that could hurt much more than open mockery. He did not want to feel that pain ever again. And yet, like a fool he was, Shang Tsung craved it more than the finest food or wine. To be acknowledged as something more than just a pitiful, poor copy of another, greater sorcerer - to be treated like his own entity worth someone’s time and effort. 

He craved it and how could he not, when the book, though definitely of Earthrealm origin, didn’t feel like a cruel joke? 

Yes, he could not read it, as the letters were unfamiliar, but there was a mark in each corner and, as he guessed, the skull placed there meant he was not allowed to eat the mushroom present on the page. Yes, he could not learn the secrets hidden between letters, but each page had its own stunning illustration. The pictures were so realistic, like he was looking at mushrooms just found in the forest or an open field. He had no idea what magic it was, but the illustrations were so gorgeous and bright with colors he had never seen in any Outworld book before. It needed to be magic, for those couldn’t be drawn, as the texture of the paper was... slippery under his fingers, but in a nice way.

The book was only about mushrooms, and yet each new page made his blood rush faster through the veins, heart beating strongly. When did he feel so good holding a book last time? He could not remember.

(A lie. He did remember. It was the same excitement he felt when Damashi for the first time showed him an old volume about elements to explain what magic is, how to draw it from the world around. It was also the first time she mentioned cryomancers, that they were real people and not some demons from old, almost forgotten legends. When he asked, intimidated by his own boldness, if he would have a chance to meet any, Damashi laughed, a sparkling laugh full of approval that he fell head over heels in love with. She promised he will, soon, and it was one of few promises she kept.)

Somehow halfway through the book, the red capped, speckled with white dots mushroom proudly showed up on page. Oh, he knew that one pretty well now, even if he had no idea how Earthrealm’s fungus got so far away from its native environment... But that thought faded right away, as the thing that held all his attention now was a small note stuck to the paper under the illustration. The elegant, familiar letter said ARE YOU STILL MAD? 

Yes, he wanted to say, to write it back on paper and stick to their usual place for notes. But the treacherous chuckle broke free before he could do any of it. To know how well Sub-Zero knew him despite barely talking to each other should freeze his blood. Yet all he felt was the weird warmness. Cryomancer should not make one feel cozy, not when a mere hour ago the bastard mockingly questioned his knowledge.

Was that… apology? 

No, it didn’t feel like that. For apology meant regretting and he still wasn’t sure if the man was capable of feeling guilt. Anger? Yes. Excitement at a challenge? Definitely. Regrets? Even if so, Shang Tsung did not notice that and he was usually good at exploiting such weakness in people around him. 

Maybe it was just cryomancer’s way to… well, Shang Tsung had no idea. It made him feel better though. So no, he was not mad anymore even if he probably should be at least annoyed.  

He knew though from on, whenever he would see the red-capped mushroom, he would always think about this book, the little note and one cryomancer that made him laugh despite himself. 

The little skull in the corner stared at him all-knowing. Thoughtlessly, he touched it with his finger, enjoying the cold, slippery feeling of paper. He liked skulls, always had. Maybe he should figure out how to reshape his magic blasts to resemble the skulls? Wouldn’t that be something unique, just his and only his?

Suddenly, the book was a thousand ways better than it was already. What else could Earthrealm offer him? What secrets and inspiration was there to seek and use for his gain? 

He grinned, all sharp teeths and gleam in eye. Maybe, if he played their little game well or bargained enough, Sub-Zero could bring him a similar quality atlas but for Earthrealmers’ anatomy? All he needed was the stunning, colorful illustrations and for sure he could figure out everything else on his own. He always wanted to study their enemy’s anatomy but sadly Liu Kang’s pets ran away and trashed his laboratory along the way.

“Are you again thinking about murdering Liu Kang’s Champions?” 

If there was one thing about Sub-Zero that annoyed Shang Tsung more than the man’s cold, rude way of speaking, it was the Lin Kuei habit of sneaking on him. It wasn’t annoying just because Sub-Zero caught him doing things that spoil his carefully cultivated image of a devious and powerful sorcerer - like smiling because of book he can’t even read or returning to fortress all wet and miserable when catched by heavy rain or his not best morning moments when disheveled and still sleepy he wanders through the corridors. No, the worst part was how easily the man walked the shadows, like the darkness was his to command. 

There was something terrible off about that, even if he couldn’t point down why. 

“Maybe” Shang Tsung answered with a bright smile plastered on his face. No reason in admitting to the man how correctly he read his thoughts. Small victory was still a victory and if he was not the winner, he did not like it at all. 

Sub-Zero’s left eyebrow rose up, but the man did not comment nor asked about the book in the sorcerer's hands. So their little correspondence about a deadly mushroom was a closed up matter and not worth dwelling on. For now. 

Since he rarely had a chance to see his maybe-yes-maybe-not ally these days, Shang Tsung looked him over from head to toe. The man had no visible new scars, nothing to indicate an injury or that he was in any fight at all - even if the sorcerer knew from others that Sub-Zero’s brothers, those pathetic idealists, looked out for him and hunted Lin Kuei like mad dogs. So far to no avail, what pleased him greatly. Cryomancer was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and his foolish brothers still did not figure out who had an upper hand in that strife. 

What however didn’t please Shang Tsung, was the bag on the cryomancer’s back. Full of his books. He knew the man was borrowing his precious volumes from the first day Sub-Zero showed up in his new home, but to see him actually taking out the entire stack at once? That was something new.

The saddest thing about the books collected here was their amount. As much as Shang Tsung hated to admit it, for months he barely managed to look through the shelves in his laboratory and there were more rooms, bigger rooms, from the floor to the ceiling, from one wall to another filled with books and scrolls. He had no idea what Sub-Zero was carrying in his bag this time, and even less what the man appropriated already. There was no point in pretending otherwise, as both knew well there were too many books to keep a track on all of them. A truly bothersome problem that cryomancer exploited without a grain of regret. 

Like always, the bastard ignored his outraged face, then adjusted his bag and walked away without even saying a goodbye or fuck you. The nerve of this man knew no bounds. 

“If you have time to steal my precious books then you could at least bring me something nice to eat!”, he shouted after the man before Sub-Zero disappeared in the shadows enveloping the cold corridor. Not because it could change anything but to have at least the last word.

Out of the darkness flew something small. He catched it without thinking, all reflex and curiosity. It was an apple, red and fresh, definitely not plucked from a tree on the island. Cold to the touch but not cold enough to frostbite his fingers. 

On one side bitten.

He should be mad at Sub-Zero, and yet the laugh filled his lungs. Well, at least the bastard did not ignore him completely. 

It was indeed a great progress.

(In the deepest part of the soul, where bitterness lingered like venom, Damashi’s voice mocked him how weak he was, how needy to cling to cold, uncaring Sub-Zero. How stupid to think anyone could bother to deal with him out of sympathy and not to use him like the pitiful tool he was. How despite everything, Shang Tsung learned nothing.

The bitterness choked him whenever he read left by Lin Kuei Grandmaster notes, whenever the man warned him about danger awaiting beyond the island’s boundaries or complained about the mess, even now, when the beautiful, deeply red covered book weighed in his hands. It was hard to ignore Damashi’s voice when it sounded like his own. But a snake should not choke on its own venom, shouldn’t he?)

Author notes#2:

Like the last time, it is mainly my character study of Shang Tsung and I'm on purpose not writing him how I would normally write one from previous timelines. I enjoy to explore how Damashi and her betrayal had a great impact on him. He is the "in progress" version, not yet the savvy, brilliant sorcerer but trying hard to be seen like that. Bi-Han so far is there mainly for the books XD

I also like to imagine there is some connection between Edenian language and one of Chinese dialect, while English and its letters is totally something new for Shang Tsung. Just solely to avoid everyone speak the same language despite living in different realms. Lin Kuei were taught Outworld language(s) so they could do the dirty job better. Hopefully I did not bore you too much.

This part was about the mushroom note. Next one should be about the mess called Shang Tsung's laboratory :)

[lucy4242564]

.cowboy like me.

Chapter 11.

I end up in crisis, tale as old as time

~One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving. And life will lose all it’s meaning. For the last time~

Her ribs were heavy and aching, she needed out of them.

Anytime she tried sinking her nails into the skin along her abdomen though, a rough pair of hands gripped hers to pull them away.

After the fourth time she flailed backwards to kick him away from her.

TW// Attempted kidnapping, gun violence, severe panic attacks, minor physical abuse, minor verbal abuse, and depression.

This chapter is SO essential to Lilah’s development, especially once we get into the main series. I have never nearly been kidnapped, but that’s the only warning I haven’t experienced- all that to say, I’m basing Lilah’s immediate reactions and panic attacks on my own. It flowed better than trying to create a false narrative.

The scariest day of her life thus far started off as a day she had been waiting on since February.

Spring Break 2006

Lilah and Daryl were going to Chattanooga to spend a week together. It would be their very first vacation together and it was long over due. When he brought up the subject initially it had actually made her second guess whether it was true or not. Unfortunately, she was about 15 minutes away when her car began jumping down the highway causing her to pull over on the shoulder. Despite how cute it was, she was beginning to have this issue with it a lot. It would randomly begin sputtering before stalling out completely. Sometimes it would restart, sometimes it wouldn’t.

Today, it wouldn’t.

Of course.

Pulling her phone out proved useless considering she had zero signal. That was probably the worst thing about the highway leading out of town and to her lover’s house. She let out a forced sigh before shoving a few important things in her purse and starting a walk back in the direction towards the busier part of things. If she could just get a little bar, her life would be so much easier about now.

A lot less nerve-racking too.

Although she had become more accustomed to the Georgian woods, it didn’t change the eeriness that surrounded her within in the trees as dusk settled. Lilah still thought back on the folktales her grandpa would tell her as a child.

They haunted her.

Which is why when a set of headlights came up from behind and pulled off to the side of the road a ways in front of her, her body relaxed some. It was a small town and she was really hoping a familiar face was going to get out of the truck. When Lilah didn’t recognize the man her heart sank low in her chest, but something about his smile made Lilah feel comfortable. “Hey sweetheart, ya havin’ car trouble?” The man asked walking closer.

“Uh, yeah,” she smiled kindly at him. “Just trying to get signal so I can call my boyfriend.”

The man wore a ball cap on his head with the letter ‘w’ in a font Lilah wasn’t familiar with. He stood at average height and was built larger than average. She couldn’t make out any intense details due to the suns shifting brightness, but the wrinkles around his face had her pinpointing he was about her dads age.

“Yeah, signal out here is always shifty. Seems like the only time ya need it though is when this stuff happens to ya.” She laughed lightly at his comment because of how well it fit her situation. “I’m headin’ into town, I can haul ya in so y’ain’t gotta walk so far.”

Lilah considered the offer. It would be about a 30 minute walk back, by then the sun would have disappeared and she’d be stuck walking in the dark. Not wanting to take too long to reply she gave him a quick yes before making her way towards him.

“You from round here?” He asked as she walked up to him.

“Kind of, I go to Georgia State and my boyfriend lives over this way.” She replied, pulling out her phone checking for signal as she began walking a little bit behind him.

“Ain’t it still a little too cold to be wearing them shorts?” The man questioned, looking back at her briefly. The comment took her by surprise and she wanted to respond, but the blinking of cell service had her stopping in her tracks. He must have noticed because before he got too far ahead of her, he paused and turned to face her.

“Sorry,” Lilah didn’t want to seem rude. “I just got a bar.”

It was then that she became keenly aware of the man slowly stalking towards her.

“Ya might lose it.” He mentioned. His demeanor was shifting and Lilah got the sudden feeling she was in danger.

But fuck she didn’t want to lose this signal.

“Yeah, calling right now before I do.” She tried laughing off, her feet remained glued to the ground.

A sigh echoed in the empty area. “Now why’d’ya have to go do that.” The man lunged towards her with his arms out causing Lilah to drop her phone, her mouth going dry.

She bolted back towards her car, the man hot on her heels.

Remembering the small pistol she kept in her purse, she slung it in front of her, trying to dig for it and run at the same time.

Fear gripped her body when she stumbled over her own feet. She didn’t fall, but it slowed her down. Her hand gripped the gun and dropped the purse, she needed it out of its holster.

How was this man keeping up?

She hadn’t dressed to the nines, she was only going to her boyfriends house. It didn’t shock her when the man’s hand reached for her cheap tank top that it tore partially off. She was thankful for it though.

It bought her a little more distance.

The gun was free.

It was in her hand, aimed at the man who’d slowed down once he caught sight of the weapon.

Lilah was a good shot. She practiced.

Why did she practice?

Was her determination to be the best shot a forewarning from the universe?

If it was, why couldn’t she pull the trigger?

Another set of headlights appeared behind her and the man began backing away. They were smaller this time and the engine that carried them was louder.

If the newcomers were here to harm her —this time, she’d let them. At least they were creeping up instead of falsifying themselves as a friendly Samaritan. “Hey blondie, why don’tcha lower that there gun ya got if ya ain’t gonna blow that sucker’s brains out.” A familiar voice sounded.

Merle Dixon.

Since their bar fight, they hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot. It was three months afterwards when they met again and had Daryl not been there, it may have ended up being a similar scenario. After a long talk with Daryl and picking her battles, Lilah reluctantly took the snide comments from him for a while until he decided he liked her better when she ‘whatn’t such a pussy’. Which naturally led to an argument, but resulted in somewhat of a truce.

They weren’t exactly the best of friends, but she didn’t dread being around him.

“That one’s crazy!” The man shouted with his hands up, still backing away ever so slowly.

Lilah’s senses were in overdrive, so when hands came up to guide the weapon down a shot rang through the air. She heard a raspy laugh behind her before the gun was removed from her hands. If Merle hadn’t intervened, she knew she’d have shot the man dead. Instead, dirt flew in the air as the bullet hit the grassy patch beside him.

“Shoulda been quicker’n that.” Merle said, amusement layering over his voice. “You aight Barbie?” He asked her. His tone had changed into a menacing one while he eyes narrowed on the frightened man a few feet in front of them.

“Yeah,” Lilah whispered. “Yeah, I’m good.” Her response was to Merle, but she felt it was a confirmation to herself more.

“I’d take the chance and dip on outta town if I were you my friend.” He told the guy. “My baby brother ain’t no hotshot or nothin’, but he gave me a nice shiner over his girl.”

The unlikely pair rode in silence, the sound of the motorcycle clouding any noise around them. It was her first time on a bike, but her thoughts were too busy for her to really take in the moment.

Lilah was still shaken up by the prior events. She’d nearly been kidnapped, only escaping due to pure luck that her shirt ripped. The off-handed comment about her shorts that the man made rung in her mind. He was probably going to rape her.

She was about to go with him willingly.

Despite all of that, the fact that she almost killed him is what had her sitting in a blank oblivion.

The almost.

Her life was in imminent danger and she hesitated. What if Merle hadn’t shown up?

“Sure y’aight?” He asked as he pulled behind Daryl’s truck and shut the bike off.

Lilah nodded in response. She didn’t trust herself to talk. In all honesty, she was shocked Merle didn’t have more to say. They both talked a lot in general— motormouths is what Daryl called them, so maybe there was a chance he knew more about her silence then he let on. When the front door opened and Daryl walked from the porch to the yard in confusion, Lilah wanted to run up and tell him everything that happened. She didn’t though; her mind wasn’t functioning normally. So she walked past him, ignoring the questions that were directed towards her, and into the house.

“I could see Barbie’s pink car a mile away! It’s a wonder she didn’t put a bullet through’em, that girl got to skittish.” Lilah heard Merle in the living room, explaining what he’d rode up on, while she laid motionless in bed.

He wasn’t wrong. She was too skittish.

She should’ve just pulled the stupid trigger.

Lilah lost any real sense of time as she sunk into the familiar scent of Daryl’s bed. A scent that could’ve become a distant memory had things went another way earlier. The bedroom door creaked open and she saw Daryl’s hips standing over the bed before it sunk down under his knees. He shifted himself to pull her into his chest, her head tucking under his chin.

“Yer safe now.” Was all he had to say for her dam to break.

A cluster of head shakes turned into loud weeps. Lilah pushed against him to sit up and begin clawing at her chest. It felt like her heart was going to tear out of it, like she needed to help it escape before it burst through.

Daryl’s hands shot up immediately, taking hers into his own. She fought against him as tears streamed down her face. “Let me go.” Lilah repeated, long after her hands were released.

“Lilah.” She saw him reach back out and shoved him backwards, firmly hitting his chest several times.

“Don’t touch me!”

Why was she screaming?

Why was she afraid?

Nothing made sense.

If Lilah had been in her right mind, she may have paused and apologized to the man she’d began assaulting. She wasn’t though, and he understood. He hated that he understood.

So he took it. Daryl let her ride through the motions and took each hit and each curse she threw at him with a grain of salt.

Lilah couldn’t gather any of her thoughts; and she had plenty.

They were everywhere but no where all at once.

Why was Daryl just sitting there? He was just watching her as she was dying.

She wailed for him to help her, to hold her, but when he tried she pushed him away again. Telling him not to touch her and swatting at his chest.

She’d never been like this before. Her mind wasn’t even forming the right words that came out her mouth.

Lilah thought she was dying— knew she was.

Her ribs were heavy and aching, she needed out of them.

Anytime she tried sinking her nails into the skin along her abdomen though, a rough pair of hands gripped hers to pull them away. After the fourth time she flailed backwards to kick him away from her.

Why wouldn’t he stop?

She needed to breathe.

Lilah hated it.

She hated him.

She should’ve felt horrible when the words left her mouth but she didn’t.

He still wouldn’t quit trying to stop her though.

God, she just wanted it all to stop.

A shower sounded nice.

Her legs ,while wobbly but still determined, carried her to the bathroom.

Why was she being followed?

He was right behind her, asking questions she couldn’t answer. All she wanted was a shower.

When he entered behind her she turned around, aggressively pushing him back and telling him to leave her alone.

The door slammed and the lock clicked.

She was getting a shower.

Lilah needed a shower, but her clothes wouldn’t come off.

They were stuck.

She left them on.

The cold water painfully hit her skin in a way that made her feel again.

Lilah felt the raw emotion of existing and instead of feeling like she was dying, she felt terrified.

Terrified of what happened to her hours earlier.

Terrified of it happening again.

Terrified to blink for too long.

Terrified to be alone.

Her thoughts were slowly beginning to form more coherently. She wanted to exist with Daryl again.

She didn’t dry off or even let the dripping stop before she opened the door. He stood there with his head down. When he saw the door shift from his peripheral vision his chin tilted back up.

Lilah was in front of him sopping wet. Her clothes clung to her skin like a second skin and she was shivering.

She wanted to apologize to him.

He didn’t deserve any of the harshness she’d bestowed upon him.

“Sorry.” Spilled from her lips repeatedly as he held her in his arms.

Daryl kept shushing her, but it was fruitless. Her apologies echoed through the house.

Even as he began removing her soaked clothes and replacing them with dry ones. She felt terrible.

Lilah wanted him to know she didn’t mean any of it. That she said it because her thoughts weren’t right.

They still weren’t right though. She remained silent, but obliged to every unspoken request he asked of her for the remainder of the evening.

The silence was her new comfort.

Air filled her lungs now.

She wasn’t dying anymore.

She just didn’t feel alive again yet.

Waking up alone, Lilah wondered if maybe everything had just been a dream. If her brain might have had an overly active imagination for the night. The more time that passed the more she realized it hadn’t just been a dream. That everything had in fact been very real.

Where was Daryl?

Lilah rolled out of bed and wandered to the living room.

No Daryl.

Had he left her?

Her mind raced back to the previous night and felt horrible for how she’d treated him. She was almost grateful for his absence as her eyes filled with tears again. If she looked outside she’d know whether he’d left or not. She just wasn’t sure if she was fully prepared to not see his truck there. Still, she needed to.

He wouldn’t have really left her would he?

Opening the front door, Lilah’s heart softened. He hadn’t left her, at least not for long. Daryl and Merle Dixon were both looking under the hood of her jacked up car. From where she stood, she could see grease covering Merle’s hands. Daryl’s back was towards her, but she admired the way his arms moved in the sleeveless shirt.

It didn’t take long for her to be noticed by the older Dixon. “Hey Barbie, I gotch’er phone out here.” He called out as he reached into his pockets. Lilah wanted to roll her eyes at the nickname, but she just couldn’t. Her mind felt better than it had, she was actually thinking coherently. There was something missing within her though.

She felt empty.

Trotting off the porch as Daryl turned to face her, Lilah went over to see exactly what it was they were doing. “How ya feelin’?” Her boyfriend asked. His tone was reserved in front of his brother, it was a habit.

A smile was the best he got as a response.

She found out they were figuring out what had been causing her car to stall out so often. Daryl was adamant about not bringing it to the shop before knowing exactly what it was. He didn’t trust anyone but himself. Lilah didn’t care what happened. She’d need it to drive back to college though, so it didn’t really matter either way.

Daryl and Lilah never went to Tennessee.

They never actually did anything that week.

Her car ended up in the shop for several days, it was engine failure. At least it something like that. Lilah hadn’t paid much attention to what Daryl said it was. The only thing she cared about was going back to school. To have something to focus on.

“L, darlin’, please talk to me.” Daryl took another week off work to stay with her. He didn’t want to leave her alone. Not yet. They were laying in her bed after she finished classes that day. It was what they’d been doing like clockwork since the Sunday they arrived. Lilah went to class, she came home for lunch, she left again for class, she came home and got in the bed. Their exchanges were brief and Daryl hated it; hated she was dealing with so much.

“What do you want to talk about?” She wasn’t oblivious to their current situation, but she didn’t have much to say. Last time she had a breakdown over the event that had transpired she was awful to Daryl.

“Lilah, I leave Sunday and I don’t wanna go with you still like this.”

Her eyes were becoming clouded with tears. She felt terrible hearing how desperate he sounded. Through the last two weeks Daryl had been so good to her. He dealt with her outburst, her silence, her car, her safety, and she gave him nothing in return. Lilah was still in shock from her incident, it hadn’t had a chance to process through her brain. She put it on the back burner to deal with when she was alone. Her showers were full of tears, along with drives home and in between classes. The memory of being chased was etched into her mind.

“Please,” He began again. “Please just give me something.”

Daryl was begging.

With clenched fists gripping the sheets the blonde girl forced herself to talk. “I hurt you Daryl. I broke down and treated you like— like you didn’t matter at all.” Lilah stared at the ceiling. She didn’t want to chance looking at him yet.

“M’fine Lilah.” He barely got the words out before she began speaking once more.

“I’m not!” Her desperate yell echoed through the room. “I’m not Daryl! I’m not. I don’t react like that, I’ve never done that. I’ve never—“ She paused to sit up, not caring that tears began streaming. “I have never hurt someone I cared about in that kind of way.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he studied her movements. Her arms were flailing in front of her as she spoke while her ocean eyes began to flood. Daryl seethed internally knowing the man that caused this was still out there.

“Ya ain’t ever been in that kinda situation either though, have ya?” He knew the emotional rollercoaster she was riding. He’d been there several times himself. Daryl didn’t want her to have to do it alone though. She was brutally soft and he wanted to preserve that as much as he could.

“That doesn’t matter Daryl! Things happen, that doesn’t mean I should resort to treating someone I love like a piece of garbage.”

“L, I only know as much as Merle saw, but whatever happened that caused ya to almost kill a man don’t just seem like a thing that happens.”

Their eyes met and she broke. She wanted so badly to keep it to herself, to prevent a rift in their relationship. It seemed like doing that was what was really causing the issues.

Even still, Lilah despised herself for being so nasty to him. She’d never get over that. “I was just trying to go into town D,” she sobbed. “Then he, he pulled over and said he’d give me a ride. He seemed so nice - and Daryl, I was going to go with him willingly. I was following him back when, when I got signal. Everything changed after that.” Lilah paused between sobs trying to get everything out. Daryl wove his fingers into hers and gave her hand a squeeze as she continued, “He started chasing me after I told him I was just going to call for help. I was starting to feel weird anyway because he’d just made a comment about my shorts. Then I just, I ran.” She brought her hand up to wipe her tears away. “I remembered my gun in my purse so I pulled it out. For a minute I considered darting into the woods but was scared if something happened, nobody would find me. It was all so so quick. He grabbed my shirt Daryl and-“ Her sentence was left incomplete.

He brought her into her chest, holding her there while she weeped. “It’s okay darlin’, y’ain’t gotta keep goin’” Daryl tried soothing her, but she popped out of his chest shaking her head.

“No, no. I can tell you.” Lilah insisted. “I can tell you.”

“Okay.” He responded softly.

“He grabbed my shirt and I thought it was over. I thought he’d got me. If I hadn’t been wearing a cheap tank top he would’ve. That was the only thing that kept him from taking me.” Her voice was more even as she began explaining again. Lilah took a moment to breathe before she carried on. “Then I held him at gun point.” Her breathing was steady, but loud, vibrating the space between them. “I held him there but I hesitated every time I went to pull the trigger. I just,” she bit her lip. “I hesitated.”

He listened intently, paying close attention to the inflection in her voice and how it wavered but in such a firm way. “That’s a human thing to do.”

“That’s a stupid thing to do. He wanted to kidnap me.”

“You ain’t a horrible person though darlin’. Ya got morals and that’s a good thing.”

She shook her head lightly, brushing off his comment. “Then Merle showed up. I didn’t know it was him at first, but I never thought I’d actually be happy to hear his voice.” A small smile graced her face. It was the first one Daryl had seen in two weeks.“When he went to grab the gun out of my hand I panicked and pulled the trigger. It didn’t hit the man or anything, but I still felt like shit for doing it.” Lilah swallowed thickly. “And I hate that I felt like shit for almost killing a guy that probably wouldn’t have thought twice if the roles were reversed.” The thought of that made Daryl sick to his stomach. Yet it could’ve happened. “Now…I’m not okay. We didn’t file a police report, I was a bitch to you, and I’m just, I’m not okay.”

He nodded in response. He understood. Even if she never grasped how much he truly understood, he still did.

“That’s aight.” Daryl said, pulling her back into his chest and holding her there. “Y’ain’t gotta be okay, but’cha gotta let me know what’s goin’ on in that pretty head’a yer’s sometimes.”

Lilah tried pulling back again but his grasp was firm. Her heart melted when he placed a kiss on her head before letting her go.

“I am really sorry for everything D.”

“It’s nothin’, ya’s panicking. It takes a lot more than a few words and girly hits ta get me gone.”

Chapter 12.

[bingus35]

Mephisto somehow went from my most hated character to my 2nd favorite character after W. Maybe I’m just too fickle or emotional or not exposed to enough media with the same character archetype, but idk anymore man chapter 8 got me bawling my eyes out for this little shit.

(Its not like all the hate went poof tbh. I can’t forgive him for the crimes against humanity. The fact that even in Reunion everyone fucking hates him is a testament to his horrid personality. Part of me still wants the bear girls and probably 10k other victims to take turns smacking his smug face. But thinking about him just makes me so sad??)

He had a shit life. His family abused him, other slum kids bullied him, someone shoved a radioactive rock down his throat and gave him arknights cancer. Faust was his only friend and he would do anything to make him happy, even if he was beaten up even worse for it. Even after getting power, his first act of defiance (which is uh. killing his family by mind controlling the slum kids) was prompted by his bestie and not out of his own will. Then they got sent to the mines and almost starved to death. Then the first adult he ever trusted was possessed by some ancient evil guy and encouraged him to kill people, so he did just that. He didn’t even know it’s wrong until Faust basically killed himself. Then he wanted to die but couldn’t because Faust wouldn’t want that, so he turned himself into lugia funniest shit I’ve ever seen tried to wipe his memories to start over. But of course he failed and instead turned into an eldritch abomination that only caused more and more harm.

After everything I can’t even feel mad anymore, just… hopeless. The environment fucked him up so bad he sees no value in anyone’s life except Faust and Talulah. Then he fucked up so bad that everyone he knows is either dead or wants him dead, and who can blame them. At the end the only thing left is one broken kid with no self-worth, no dreams, no will to live, only the blood of thousands on his hands.

I know trauma isn’t an excuse to commit war crimes and other characters also have fucked up backstories but didn’t turn out like him. But I feel like most of them at least had some kind of guidance (through family or education) at some point of their lives. Mephisto’s guidance is terrorism. No surprise his moral compass is so fucked.

Tldr arknights got me depressed over the smug war criminal I’m deleting this fucking game >:’(

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 24

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,065

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LET'S JUST TALK

Compared to the decades you've both been apart before, it really hasn't been much longer than a blink of time since you've last seen Bucky, yet you're staring like a deer in headlights anyways, struggling to process all of these damned emotions that overtake you like a tidal wave. At least you're not alone in this reaction, though.

Despite having been the one to call you, Bucky doesn't say anything too quickly himself. He holds the camera at a slightly awkward angle, struggling to keep it level which you aren't sure he realizes. Thankfully, the image remains crystal clear no matter how much he shakes the screen, allowing you to still dwell on his handsome features as if he were standing right here in front of you: his hair and beard have gotten longer, the former tied back into a messy bun; it's a nice look.

"Merry Christmas!" You blurt at last, cursing how much your smile must make you look like a giddy teenager. Oh well, you're too surprised by this unexpected video call to stress over it.

"Merry Christmas," Bucky repeats accompanied by laughter, a smile adorning his own face. You notice it immediately, unable to skip how much happier he seems in the moment compared to months ago. He carries this sort of glow to himself now that you had only ever seen snippets of while on the run, not to mention there's no longer bags under his eyes nor a drag to his voice. He's relaxed, and that alone makes you feel far better than you have been.

Shortly after Siberia, Steve had sent a letter to give you a vague update on things, however that only gave you temporary peace of mind. You often paced around your room wondering just how safe this 'Wakanda' could be for the love of your life. Steve said it's a very secure country and you trust Steve, but cat-man also tried to kill Bucky every time their paths crossed. Will Wakanda really protect him now? Are they capable of protecting him? Is he happy there and not as depressed as your nightmares tell you he is? You could never be quite sure of any answers until finally allowed to confirm them with your own eyes.

"How, um...How have you been?" You ask to get the conversation rolling, struggling to find a comfortable seat leaned against your pillows in the meantime. Not once during your readjustments do you take your eyes away from the tablet.

"I've been good," Bucky answers quickly, although after thinking it over, he decides to add, "I, uh, don't know how much Steve told you, but I actually went under for a while until the Wakandans could find a cure for the Winter Soldier...so that's all better now..."

He tries to play it off as if it's not a big deal, but ends up smiling shyly once you gasp with a huge grin, "Wait, you're serious?! Does that mean there's no more Winter Soldier at all?!"

"W-Well, we tried the trigger words and they didn't work -"

"- Bucky, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you! I was just thinking something seemed different about you, too - that you look more at ease and all. Oh, I'm sure, though! No more worrying about the other guy coming out must really take a big weight off your shoulders, huh?"

He blushes at your kind words, "We shouldn't get our hopes up too high yet...but yeah, it's been pretty nice having one less thing to worry about."

"That's really good news, Bucky - wonderful news!" You can't stop smiling, "What else have you been up to? You'll have to tell me all about Wakanda. They're known for vibranium and I watched King T'Challa's speech, but that's about the extent of my knowledge. What's it like there? Are you enjoying yourself?"

'Are you happy?' Is the question you're trying to hint at, desperately wanting to hear him say the words which will rest your anxieties in regards to everything that happened the last time you saw each other.

Fortunately, Bucky's eager to nod, "It's nice here. They've set me up with this little hut where I'm able to take care of goats all day and the villagers are super nice even though I'm still struggling to learn their language - Oh, and it's all by this huge lake, too. Did you get to see it? I think I put a picture on your tablet. I did it without any help, though, but I think I got it?"

You chuckle, "I did. You set it as the background. I'm assuming you're my secret Santa who sent this then?"

He nods more bashfully this time, "...Do you like it?"

"If it lets me finally catch up with you, then I love it."

This seems to please him as he goes to explain, "Shuri suggested it as a good gift. 'said none of the calls can be tracked by the government, so it would be a safe way to talk to you without giving away either of our locations."

"Smart. Steve sent a burner phone with his letter, but yeah, I didn't want to use it if it would risk any of you seeing as the government's apparently been searching nonstop for your whereabouts."

For the first time, Bucky frowns, the screen shaking a bit as he must've sat down, "...Have they been giving you a lot of trouble because of me?"

His fears dim your own bright spirit, however you don't want to focus on that nor do you want him to. Waving your hand with a so-so sign, you respond truthfully, "Eh, it's been touch and go. I wasn't formally charged with anything at least. Thanks to Tony putting in a good word for me, I pretty much got a slap on the wrist and required monthly meetings with a probation officer, although I do think they've been watching me pretty closely from afar. You know, in case I get into contact with any of my 'fugitive' friends, but seeing as the FBI hasn't busted down my bedroom door yet, they must be slacking off for the holidays."

Bucky gives a dull hum.

"I can't complain, though. Overall, they've been extremely lenient with me all things considered and hey, I get to live in the new Avengers' compound which is a total win! Like, do you see this room? This is first class living right here!" You turn on the opposite camera, proudly showing off your room for Bucky to see, however to your disappointment, it still only brings a vague tug to his lips before they fall back into a frown, "...Okay, what's wrong? Out with it, Barnes."

He fidgets with his own device, not looking into his camera directly even after you turn yours back to your face. When you draw out his name and thus show your refusal to simply drop the topic, he finally caves in, "I don't understand how you aren't upset with me..."

"Why would I ever be upset with you? Bucky, you've done nothing wrong. You were my friend. Together, we were living a peaceful life in Romania which was honestly the happiest months of my life. It was Zemo who came and ruined it. You couldn't have done anything to prevent that. He caught us all by surprise, even the Avengers -"

"- I know...I know..." He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, "I know you care about me and I know you never hesitate to protect me...But I just keep repaying Siberia in my head. I can't help thinking about when we confronted Zemo and everything that happened afterwards -"

"- Are you mad at me?"

Bucky's head shoots up, looking at you with wide eyes and shock written over his face, "Why would I ever be mad at you?"

It's your turn to shy away from the camera, rubbing the fabric of your pajama sleeves between your fingers as a distraction, "...I don't know. We went all that way together, we almost escaped, then I chose Tony over you at the last minute...I could've gone with Steve and you - "

"- He's your friend -"

"- So are you," you sigh, dropping your head back against your pillows in defeat, "...I didn't even say goodbye to you - I didn't say anything to you! What kind of friend does that?! ...Be honest with me, Buck. Did that upset you?"

He hesitates, "...Yes..."

You inhale through your nose, the guilt pricking your heart the same way it did back then.

"But I wasn't upset with you - not by any means. I was just upset with myself. At first, it was because I saw what I had done. You can argue that I didn't do it physically and that I had no power to stop it, but at the end of the day, Zemo used me to get between the Avengers and it was because you tried protecting me that you almost got into trouble yourself -" When you open your mouth to object, Bucky shakes his head, not giving you the chance, "You can't deny that part, (Y/n). If I wasn't involved, you wouldn't have had a reason to fight your friends or go against the law...That's the other thing that upset me...

"You had given up so much for my sake already - I never wanted to see you sacrifice anything else, yet you were still willingly to. That's why I should've been happy to see you choose Stark's side in the end. I should've been relieved that you finally put me aside for once to make your own choice...but I wasn't happy and that made me angry with myself. Even in that moment, regardless of how much you had given me, I was still hoping you'd go with Steve and I. I felt...lost when you didn't, then guilty for feeling that way because like I said, I should've just been happy for you instead. What right did I have in being that selfish -?"

"- Bucky -"

"- I'm not upset anymore, though - you should know that. I've had a lot of time to think things over for myself here in Wakanda and I thought about, um...- I mean it when I say I'm happy that you've been, uh, happy this whole time, too..." He begins to stumble with his words, trailing off with an eventual curse, "The thing is -...I've realized -...Shit, how do I say this -?"

"- It doesn't feel right when we're apart," you suggest, earning his attention, although you merely shrug with a smile, "No matter what you do, no matter who you're around, you always feel like something or someone's missing. You can be in a room filled with people and still feel lonely without that one person you had gotten so accustomed to being around all the time."

"Y-Yeah..." He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, a faint blush covering his cheeks, "You feel that way, too, then?"

"All the time. It's gotten a little better, but as it turns out, it's surprisingly hard to reset your life after two years."

"Tell me about it," Bucky rolls his eyes and chuckles. He brings his other hand back to the tablet, his mouth moving, however you don't hear anything making you smirk as you realize the reason as to why.

"James, hun, I think you've muted yourself."

He frowns before looking around as he seems to be calling for someone while tapping several buttons in an attempt to fix the problem himself. A girl soon appears on screen temporarily, shouting at him (which you don't need volume to understand) then swatting him away in order to take the tablet and unmute the video herself.

"- I swear, you're worse than a toddler - or my brother for that sake! Always touching stuff and poking buttons! Keep your hands to yourself!" You hear her curse as she walks off, leaving Bucky to pout and look back at you with obvious embarrassment.

"...Is that better?"

"Much," you snuffle your laughter, "You were saying?"

He appears caught off guard by your question and it takes him a good minute or two to remember the exact train of thought he had been having before, yet thanks to you repeating what you had said last yourself, it manages to jog his memory.

"...I was gonna say that I miss you," he admits bashfully, "Don't get me wrong, I like Wakanda and I'm grateful for everything everyone's done for me here even though Shuri can be intimidating at times, but I, um, really miss how it felt living together. I miss how comfortable I automatically felt around you and the way I could just - I don't know, turn around to talk to you. I miss that simple life we had where things actually felt normal as if we weren't on the run or had any terrible secrets to hide...Thanks to you I felt like a normal person and I could never thank you enough for that..."

You feel your heart soar which no doubt shows on your beaming expression, "I meant it earlier when I said those years we spent together were the happiness of my life. I missed -...I've missed you since then. If I'm allowed to be dramatic, it's utter hell whenever I have to go long periods of time without hearing your voice let alone be able to see you with my own eyes. You're a critical part of my life, James. It doesn't matter how much time passes nor what crazy stuff life likes to throw at us, that fact will always remain the same."

Bucky's blush grows brighter and although he dips his head down a bit to hide it, the smile he bites back is enough to let you know your words haven't crossed any line, thus you refuse to take them back.

"Maybe after the smoke's officially cleared, it'll be safe to see each other in person again and, if we're real lucky, we might even be able to, I don't know, live together again - If you're interested in that, of course."

"I'd like that," he nods, his voice breathless despite not having done any kind of exercise, "...I'm just not sure how plausible it'll be. What if the government -"

"- James, it's the government. It took them two years to find us the first time and as much as I hate to admit fault, I think we were getting a bit sloppy towards the end anyways. Living in the city, going on walks and coffee dates - I bet if we used a more concrete strategy, we'd never be found again. As far as the government would be concerned, we dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard of."

"What's this 'concrete strategy' entail?" Bucky asks, finding himself mirroring the slight smirk you give in response. He knows you well enough to guess you already have a plan in mind and your hum as you pretend to think doesn't fool him into believing he's wrong.

"Hmm...Well, based on the movies I've watched, it seems the go-to spot for hiding is somewhere completely off the grid - preferably the country since I've seen people move to high up mountains and I am not dealing with anywhere colder than Romania."

He chuckles.

"Think about it, though? We'd live off the land, so we wouldn't have to risk going into town for anything and being seen."

"I think living off the land is a lot harder than the movies, dear."

"Oh, we'll figure it out. We're both pretty smart - I am at least," you dismiss while ignoring the nickname he used. You have to worry about one thing at a time and if you make a convincing enough plan for your imaginary futures, you might just get to hear Bucky call you other sweet names that sit directly in your heart, "Also, if we go to the country, you can bring your little goats, too. Good deal, right?"

"I'm not sure if the Wakandans will let me steal their goats."

"I meant we can get you your very own goats. Please don't start stealing goats from people, Bucky. It's frowned upon," you roll your eyes which seems to trigger a yawn you would've never commented on, however Bucky does:

"It's pretty late there, isn't it? I should probably let you sleep -"

"- It's fine. I'm a world champion for lack of sleep, second to only Tony. It's a Stark thing, I suppose."

"Hypocrite," is Bucky's teasing response as he interprets your words in another way than what you had actually meant; a good thing, too, seeing as you're beginning to lose your self control. Yes, you can force your body to stay up for as long as needed to keep talking to him, however is it worth the risk of blurring the lines further between past and present, friend and fiancée?

"Not a hypocrite. I can function just fine on little sleep. You turn into a big grump, though," you counter, muffling another yawn behind your hand. Unfortunately, the smarter side of you eventually forces out the words you've been desperately trying to deny, "...Maybe you're right. Maybe I should get some sleep. It's been a long day..."

Bucky smiles triumphantly, proud to have won an argument with you for once and without having to say much either, although he must secretly admit his own bitter feelings towards the thought of this conversation ending. He could talk to you all night if allowed...

"...Hey (Y/n)...I -'' He starts suddenly after what felt like forever of silent thought, however you cut him off by holding up a hand and giving a tired smile.

"- I think I know what you're going to say, but how about you wait to tell me in person, alright?"

The stress visually melts off his bones into a sigh as he happily accepts not having to worry about those terrifying words right now, after all he prefers your suggestion of waiting for an opportunity to tell you in person anyways, although he does frown slightly at the thought of how long that'll take. This call ending brings him back to reality, reminding him that he doesn't get to see you nearly as often as he would like...How long will he have to wait until you're within arms length again? How long until the right moment to utter those words?

"James?"

"Hmm?"

"You'll start calling regularly, yeah? Remember: it's utter hell for me not to hear from you. You'll take pity on me by calling sometimes, right?"

Bucky smiles gently and nods, "I'll call as often as I can."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<;- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[kobeniliker]

HI AGAIN THE NEW CHAPTER!!!!! 123!!!! CHAINSAW MAN. AUGH!H!!!!

Spoilers, rambling & analysis under the cut!!! Warnings for canon typical violence/death/unpleasant situations.

OK SO. 

I was wrong about this lady being the death devil!! 

 (I will probably be wrong about a lot of things lol, I just like to organize my thoughts. Might start making these posts w every chapter, idk!)

The falling devil!!! That makes a lot of sense!!! People falling to their death. I think her powers would tie into a fear of heights as well. But as I have seen some other people point out it also seems to tie into falling into depression or love, or really any vulnerable state. Which is pretty important considering Asa’s tendency to fall in critical moments. She in particular would probably be more afraid of this devil, which makes this confrontation very. difficult.

I LOVE her design. She seems so polite (aside from the murders and the whole being very evil devil thing)! A chef! She cooks!! She has a lot of arms!

Interestingly, she is very human looking. Remove some extra limbs and give her a neck, shes just a really tall chef. Cool, but. 

?????? (Image from Chainsaw man chapter 34, kishibe talking during Prinzi’s introduction)

Devils with human-like appearances are friendlier toward humans. Well, Prinzi and Angel weren’t too warm and fuzzy, but they didn’t kill humans that much. Angel even expressed some regret in doing so, and actively avoided touching humans to protect them.

The 3 horsemen we know of so far are interesting cases, because they look just like humans aside from the eyes. Yoru tries to get Asa to kill people and is the war devil, but she still tries to protect Asa and even seems to comfort her. She didn’t take over Asa’s entire body because she ‘doesn’t know enough about humans to blend in’. Why does she have to be a human, couldn’t she just use her bird form to spy? I dunno, but it’s been established that Yoru isn’t the smartest. Fami is still pretty mysterious, but she didn’t directly kill everyone inside the aquarium. She could have, but she made another devil do it for her. She offered to help Asa and Yuko, and she kind of did save Yuko from dying, at least immediately. She is cooperating with Yoshida’s interrogation. Makima seems pretty detached from everything and does not take issue with hurting humans for her own gain, but was very much able to maintain working relationships and live as a human without being found out as a devil.

The Falling Devil is pretty human-like, but she introduces herself as the Falling Devil and resumes killing and tormenting people with no regard for who sees her. She has a similar level of hostility to humans as, say, the bat devil. So far she seems to enjoy killing people. 

I think this is particularly interesting as she is the 2nd introduced primal fear devil. The darkness devil also looked pretty weird, but definitely had human physical traits. It basically is just a bunch of humans stacked on top of each other and a cool helmet and cape. The darkness devil also does not take any issue with killing or harming humans despite its humanlike appearance.

It’s just. An interesting pattern!!!!!

Another very interesting piece of dialogue:

Did someone send her? Who? Why? This implies some sort of organized society or system in hell that would allow devils to communicate to each other. It seems like they sent her as sort of representative? I have a lot of questions!

And Asa. Oh my god. I fucking cried. 

We have some more of her backstory which is nice, but. Holy Fuck.

She risked her LIFE to save that cat. That was the only remaining family she had. And she was willing to trust this person who promised that they could give her cat a better life, she chose her cat’s happiness over her own. And that trust was betrayed in the worst way possible, in the name of ‘fairness’.

This poor kid. I can’t. She lost everything and she blames herself for it. She believes she killed her mom, her cat died because of her misplaced trust, the one friend she made died trying to protect her from bullies (in a very twisted attempt, there are much better ways to deal with bullying, but I think Yuko genuinely cared about Asa).

We know she lives alone now, and knowing where she was before I’m glad for her. I assume that she left the orphanage sometime after this. But we know she’s never really been social, she’s introverted, she withdraws from others, which explains more about her tendencies to avoid social interactions and shut out everything around her. Unrelated, but I love her short hair and sweater.

I think this is also an interesting parallel to Denji. Denji, who never really had anything but still lost so much. He blames himself for the death of his father, of his friends and adoptive family. He really loved pochita, he gave him everything he could but still lost him. Denji who is loud and puts himself out there even when he really shouldn’t. Denji who isn’t very book smart but is friendly and loyal and social.

The cat/dog parallels. 

It is very, very interesting.

2 weeks till the next chapter!!! Might add more stuff as I think of it, but these are my initial thoughts for now :)

[silver-queen]

v off topic but what is up with project moon lately ive been vaguely aware of workplace stuff happened but dunno much

id ask u if ur ok w/ explaining it to me but if u cant dw bout it

hope u have a nice day btw

I don't mind but be aware I'm not fluent In korean nor abut the social climate there 😔 and thank you!

I'm gonna recall what I know so it's going to be long, but long story short, Kim Jihoon (Project Moon's CEO) fired the CG artist vellmori immediately after some guys from korea's equivalent of 4chan (DCInside) accused her of being a feminist.

This isn't the first time something like this happened in the korean gaming industry, but this particular event kind of uncovered a whole lot of issues in other things, from Project Moon's shortcomings to as far as the korean gaming industry itself.

I don't know where to start, but the whole thing happened because a beach mini-event featured one of the female character in a full wetsuit and not in a bikini, nevermind that Project Moon is known for rarely, if ever feature fanservice. A group of people from DCInside directed their outrage to the main art director and artist of said character's skin, but once they found out that the artist is a man, they pivoted to the CG artist, despite the fact she's not responsible any character design in the game.

DCInside started to give Limbus Company a negative review on all platforms it was on for it's "feminist agenda" demanding for vellmori to be fired, and when PM took too long with complying with their demand, ten people took it to themselves and stormed Project Moon's office. The situation seemed dire, we tried supporting Project Moon because we thought they weren't the type of company who would side with people like them.

PM responded by posting an announcement (only in korean at the time to try to keep the international fanbase in the dark) that vellmori was to be dismissed from her position for "causing controversy"

Said controversy is that DCinside dug a deleted post vellmori retweeted when she was a teen speaking out against a spycam epidemic in women's bathroom. That was five years ago and long deleted, but apparently it was still a valid reason to dismiss her from the company.

Vellmori mentioned in a korean newspaper that Kim Jihoon fired her over the phone at midnight when he was still in Japan in preparation for a game expo. This was before Project Moon released any follow-up statement after the first one.

Project Moon then released another statement that vellmori was merely dismissed, but not fired, and that they aren't disclosing anything more to protect her. They also threatened to sue everyone who spread misinformation, which is hard to define since PM wasn't clearing up anything.

During this many former employees came forward about the poor management they experienced and the lack of employee protection in PM. The visual artist of Leviathan, the prologue comic/novel for Limbus Company mentioned that she was forced within a tight schedule (a chapter every week) without room to make buffer pages in her schedule. When she tried to negotiate for a scheduling change, Kim Jihoon instead cut her contract short.

The english translator for both Limbus Company and it's twitter announcements, in a separate incident, was harassed and cyberstalked on social media, yet Project Moon did nothing to defend him. Kim Jihoon has proven before that he could stand up for his employees, like he did with PM's cafe when customers harassed the staffs. Granted, the translator said that he doesn't want anyone to criticize Project Moon for not defending him, but his letter is still depressing to read, especially when he revealed he had to work on chapter 3.5 overnight while his family member was diagnosed with cancer.

MIMI, the artist for Lobotomy Corporation's spinoff comic Wonderlab, shortly took down the comic due to dissatisfaction with the company.

A youth union was created in response to the controversy, demanding a clear announcement over vellmori's employment status and to compensate her.

PM responded that yes, vellmori has been fired, and claims that she wishes her privacy to be protected to avoid revealing anything further about her dismissal, even though she had already talked to a newspaper about it.

And until this day Project Moon went on a crusade against everyone who directly speak against their decision, from suing peaceful truck protestors and unions, and yet they barely addressed the incels from DCInside who started this all in the first place. The infamy of this incident also brought attention to the rampant misogyny in South Korea, especially in the gaming industry.

Honestly this isn't the first time they folded from the slightest bit of pressure, but the first time it was because a review bomb on Library of Ruina because some blokes didn't like the original ending. I don't know. I feel like they're going to foster a fanbase that thinks they can get whatever they want if they cause a big enough ruckus when things don't go their way. I don't want to be part of that so I've been steering away from the fanbase even if I'm still fond of PM's stories.

Sorry this got long and I don't have complete sources, most of this is what I recall from witnessing it firsthand and I really don't feel like looking for Xitter posts 😭 this post is more complete if you'd like to read more.