#the ending was not the direction i had planned

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch warnings none !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02

“Wake up, we’re here.” Ryan nudged your side, observing as your parents unloaded the trunk, arguing over the amount of luggage each one of you brought. “Get up, Bug, mom is gettin’ mad.” 

Ryan gave you a harsh push, disturbing your slumber as you jolted up from your seat. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, eyeing your surroundings with haze, a mere attempt to make sense of the new setting that encircled the Airbnb your parents ranted. 

It was a beautiful view, the sight of the beach not too far away, ocean breeze heading in your direction. Ryan’s figure instantly filled your vision, earning a low grumble out of you. You tucked your hair out of your face, stretching out your arms over your head.

“You slept through the whole ride.” Your brother scoffed, gathering the crumbled candy wrappers from the cup holder. “Help mom! She’s really mad, why’d you bring so many luggages?” 

“Don’t piss me off,” you mumbled, kicking his knee, the gesture causing the latter to stumble back. “Move.” 

You shuffled out of your seat, hopping out of the car. The place was surprisingly big– not for a family of four, that’s for sure. An unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway, the sight earning a puzzled expression out of you. 

“Is someone else here?” You questioned, attention shifting to Ryan, who was busy tidying your side of the vehicle. “Who’s that car for?” 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Ryan shot back, furrowing his eyebrows with confusion. “What, you thought we’d be here on our own?” 

“Wasn’t that what we had in plans?” You mumbled, strolling towards the creaked door. You peaked your head inside, an audible gasp escaping your throat when you spotted your parents chatting with a middle aged couple, whom you would assume were the guests staying with you. Their identities remain a mystery as they were faced away, unable to recognize them with only the back of their heads. You turned to face Ryan, whispering your next sentence. “There’s people inside.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” He rolled his eyes, shutting the door to the car. He approached you, squeezing by as he let himself inside. “You think I’m spending the next two months stuck with only you? Hell no.” 

“God, we should’ve let you rot on campus.” You groaned, following behind him. You remained as quiet as physically possible, not wanting to capture the elders’ attention, aware of the conversation they planned on dragging you to. 

While walking up the stairs, you winced, as the suitcase you carried collided into the wood on your way up, creating a thud. Your gaze shifted to where your parents stood, a sigh of relief escaping your throat when you noticed they were still accompanied by the couple to their side. 

You carefully settled your suitcase down, dragging it along as you observed each room, deciding which one would suit you best. You came to a halt once one caught your eye, growing intrigued as you opened the door all the way through, revealing the layout of the furnitured space. 

“Pretty.” You whispered to yourself, tracing the designed light switch with your fingers. 

“Not bad,” Ryan replied, his presence startling you. “Good choice, this room is actually mine.” 

“I was here first!” Your face twisted with annoyance, watching as your brother leaned against the wall, now facing you. “It’s my room, not yours.”

“Oh, we’re going there?” He warned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ll tell dad about the time you sneaked out every day for an entire month, and made me cover for you whenever you got in trouble.”

“That was four years ago,” you reasoned, huffing at his ridiculous threat. “Besides, you’ve done worse. Remember all the marijuana you hid in my room? Or did we forget about that?” 

“Okay– that was–” Ryan stammered, slumping his shoulders as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone about that.”

“Whatever, get out of my room.” You shoved his arm, the contact earning a dramatic gasp out of him. “Go complain somewhere else, I’m not giving you this room.”

“C’mon, Bug!” He whined, resisting the hands pressing to his back, forcing him out of the room. “There’s better rooms, why do you want this one specifically?!”  

“Probably for the same reason you do.” You exclaimed, sighing once you gave Ryan one last push, the action causing him to stumble out into the narrow hallway. “And stop calling me that, I’ll kill you if you refer to me as Bug in front of everybody.” 

“Everyone calls you Bug.” He clicked his teeth, fixing the collar of his shirt. “I forget that your name isn’t Bug sometimes, you know, jus’ used to it.” 

“Are you trying to distract me right now? ‘Cause it’s not working.” You forced a tight-lipped smile across your face, earning a groan out of Ryan. “Busy yourself with something else, I don’t have time to pamper you.” 

“‘Kay, fuck you then.” He spat out, flipping you off as he walked away. 

You shut the door with a chuckle, taunted by your brother’s lash out. You placed your luggage on the bed, growing confused when you noticed the bed was slightly undone, indicating someone clearly had been there. You brushed it off, thinking it was Ryan’s doing, as you were too exhausted to further process it. 

You searched through your suitcase, acquiring your everything-shower bag. You set it to the side, retrieving a clothing set, one suitable to be seen in, and comfortable enough to get you through the night. 

Once you had everything you needed, you grabbed your belongings, freezing when footsteps echoed through your ears. You were painfully aware that this was not Ryan, as you would’ve heard him come in with the click of the door. 

You aimed for your bag, equipping yourself for the hit you planned to swing, now that you sensed your life being at risk. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you had coming as you swiftly turned around, a ragged breath escaping your parted lips at the sight of a certain someone. 

Mere inches away from you stood Rafe, the Rafe Cameron whom you have messaged a few hours from now. You couldn’t believe your eyes, instantly brushing this off as a dream, because there’s no way in hell he was there, half naked, with only a towel hanging low around his hips. A blank expression remained plastered across his face, not too astonished by your presence.

A nervous gulp dried your throat, gaze following the water drop trailing down his exposed chest, on full display, revealing his muscular figure. God, his arms, the photos weren’t doing him justice, because besides his toned body, the man was gorgeous. 

His eyes were a radiant shade of blue, nose slightly pointy, as well as his pink lips, that you wouldn’t describe as big, but just the right size, as you wanted nothing but to lean forward and kiss him, ceasing the unnecessary distance between you. 

You shook the thoughts off, clutching into stuff that you had in hand, instantly growing nervous by the latter as he took a step forward, now towering over you, making you feel small under under his gaze. You glanced up at him, shifting your vision back to his chest when you caught him already staring at you. 

Rafe broke into a grin, amused by how flustered you were, nothing compared to how brave you were over text. He remained in front of you for a moment, awaiting a response out of you, a question perhaps. 

“I…” ah, there it was. “I didn’t know you were in here.” 

“That’s okay,” he reassured, voice dripping with sweetness, that the moment he spoke, you found yourself melting in the spot. “Look at me.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the statement, shifting your gaze back to his face, breath knocking out of your chest when his eyes locked with yours, creating a mess out of you. He leveled himself with your body, adjusting his position where he stood now that he caught your attention. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he hushed out, grogginess visible through his tone. “Bug, was it?” 

Yeah, had you known Rafe Cameron was spending the next two months with you, you would not have shown up, aware of the consequences that came with your feelings. 

How were you supposed to set a limit for yourself when he’s there, existing and looking so attractive while doing it?

a/n prepapre to be sick of me theyre my new obsession!! also i PROMISE i have something planned for the whole bug nickname pls give it a chance ehebhe ei hope you enjoyed wheww im so nervous to publish this

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @starkeydolly @mattyskies @percysley @aariahnaa @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb

lmk if u wanna be added >__< !!

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane imagine.

Arcane characters react when you take a hit for them.

Characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika.

Trigger warnings: fluff, angst, reader getting hurt, injuries, yearning, implied smut, gross m*n, harassment

Mel medarda;

It was a seemingly normal night for you both, you had decided to take Mel out for dinner, nothing too luxurious (in her own words) but you wanted nothing but the best for your Mel, she appreciated that, god, she never looked more beautiful when she's standing in the moonlight in her red dress she especially wore for you and only you

The night was going just as planned, it was perfect, there was much laughter and smiles that hurt both of your cheeks, as you held hands and walked together, occasionally sitting down and kissing one another, when of course, a drunk man happened to be near by, and he didn't like what he saw, the famous Mel medarda kissing someone that wasn't a man

He ended up becoming furious, stumbling over as he started shouting nonsense, Mel wasn't having it, she used her authority voice that turns stern to control the situation, she does this when she's nervous, and you can tell when she grips onto your hand tighter

When you see the man raising his hand in her direction, you immediately shield her and take the hit, your cheek stings as you even taste blood, that was Mel's last straw when she saw him hit her lover, you've never seen her this angry, it was a sight to see her cussing out the man and ruining him to pieces, he ended up walking off, leaving you alone as you felt a little ashamed, but you were happy that you had stopped him from hitting Mel, no one hits her

"why'd you do that?" Mel had asked, bending down on her knees as she takes your face in her hands, checking to make sure you're okay. "Why did you do that?" She keeps on asking, her eyes wide with fury and worry.

"Because I love you" was all you said.

She smiled, laughed, you laughed with her, she had tears in her eyes, though you wouldn't bring it up, you wiped some away with your thumb, as she kissed you hard

Caitlyn;

Caitlyn was out doing her duty when you were supposed to be at home, relaxing, waiting for her return, things have been getting rough fast, much to her liking as she had to deal with it all

She knew there was no going back once she went down this road, it had to be done, you had tried convincing her to stop and think, you know her grief has been eating at her, you've felt it, you know what it's like yourself

She tries to hide it, but you can see it

You try to be there for her in any way you can, whatever she needs, you'll give

While she was out one night, alone, you know she's capable of taking care of herself, you don't doubt that at all, the one time she didn't have her gun with her is when shit happens, you don't like guns, she knows this, so she tries not to carry them around you, unless absolute necessary

Then out of no where, she's attacked.

And she stumbles, for the first time in so long, she's nervous, scared, thinking about you

They came out of no where, taking her off guard as they had their masks on, it was dark out, she couldn't see much

Then you appear all of a sudden, like a knight in shining armor, she watches you in awe before she realizes what you are doing with the way you jumped at them, with fury on your face as you raised your fist, ready to protect her, she shouted your name, you looked, and you got hit

Caitlyn lost it

They were all done by the time you opened your eyes again, embarrassed, you couldn't look at Caitlyn in the eyes but she had picked you up in her arms, carrying you home, she was silent, thinking you were still out, you admired her, reaching out to caress her cheek, she smiled, looking down at you as that tells you enough

Vi;

You hadn't seen vi all day, you knew she'd come home eventually, you two had plans, a date she promised, but something didn't feel right

Vi doesn't fuck around when she makes a promise to meet with you, you know that, she knows that, others might not, but you do

When she doesn't answer your calls and texts, you get worried, eventually you went out of your apartment to go and track her down, you know a few places she'd always be at

When you find her in a tight situation, in a dark alleyway, just a few blocks away from home, as it looks like she was on the way back to you, you felt frustrated as you watched three big, tall guys who clearly had a bit to drink pick on her

Vi had fought the worst of the worst, you know that, but you weren't having it

She didn't let you join in on fighting, scared for you, she worries sick, that she might lose you, but she doubts you enough, you know it wasn't doubt though, she just cared

She cared so much

It was a surprise when she saw you running at full speed at one of the guys and taking a huge hit when he got a hand of you, shoving you off, vi was pissed

Anger was all she felt as she kicked all of their asses

She was muttering while checking in on you, she patched you up and took care of you, making sure you were okay, in her eyes, she couldn't help but admit that it was hot, and that made her fall in love harder with you

Jinx;

Jinx had always been the one to fight for herself

She wasn't used to others stepping in, unless it was for work

Like if silco had ordered them too go with her, that wouldn't make a difference

Jinx was always going to be doing everything herself, that was until you came into her life, when everything went shit when silco died, you were her light

And Isha

You two meant more to her than she could ever imagine

She began to look forward to tomorrow

The one time you, Isha, jinx all decided to go out for an adventure, she wanted to impress you with her new projects that she was working on, you always listened to her ramble and she liked it, not many people did aside from sevika, Isha and you

Though sevika just tolerated it

Everything was going perfect, when a group of idiots came out and she didn't even have all of her fancy weapons on her, the one time she doesn't, because she just wanted to have fun with her favorite people, she was actually enjoying herself, which why she got so angry when they attacked

She knows she's got plenty of enemies, that's nothing new, but what she doesn't like is when any of them go for Isha or you, you two shouldn't be involved in this, even though you and her are together together, you were more vulnerable now

She was amazed by you

What she didn't expect was to watch you stand in front of her and take a huge hit to the face just when she was handling the guys her way, that caught her off balance

She raged at them

Once she was done with them, she took your hands as she was filled with worry, her anxiety buzzing, her thoughts too loud, thinking the worst, Isha helped you stand up, she also looked concerned, wondering what had happened, why you got hurt

Jinx didn't waste anytime pressing a kiss to your lips as she took you home with Isha alongside her

Sevika;

Sevika just wanted to take you out on a nice date, as best as she could offer, she knows you'd appreciate it regardless, but she wanted to give you everything she could

You had made everything better for her the moment you stepped into her life, she wanted to do you good

The date was going perfectly, just the way she had planned, it wasn't often sevika was pleased with herself, but tonight you looked good enough to eat

Just when everything was going fine, someone had to ruin it

Someone who was upset with her

Sevika knew she made a name for herself, people knew her, they weren't always the nicest

Usually just wanted to try and fight her, to see if they'd beat her, they never do, it ends up written on all their faces

But of course, her first date with you got interrupted, and Sevika wasn't having it when this guy was trying so hard to get with you, she hated how uncomfortable you looked, he didn't even recognize her there the entire time as she stared him down with a cold glare, she made her presence known

He looked flabbergasted at the sight of sevika having a date with someone like you, you two were different, sure, she didn't care what others think, especially if they targeted you

You said you were used to it, guys coming up and flirting with you, making gross comments, she wasn't having it, she didn't care how used to it you were

"are you done here?" Sevika asked, taking a bite of a cherry as you watched, admiring her, she smirked at you.

The guy huffs, unimpressed, "the fuck are you doing here, bitch?" He slurred, leaning closer.

The moment you heard him call her a bitch, you immediately stood up, as the both of them got heated, fast, you know sevika doesn't back down from a fight for anyone, especially a sloppy moyherfucker like him who runs his stupid mouth

You spotted him getting closer and raiding his hand at her, no, you weren't going to have tonight end up blood spilt, as hot as that'd be, you wanted your date to be perfect

Just before he could even punch your Sevika, you were able to get in between them fast, his hand hitting hard on your check as you fell against her front

She stared at you with wide eyes, and raged at the guy

She knew you didn't want her fighting anyone on your date, but that set her off

The pain stung as you knew it was gonna bruise, fuck, but you wanted to make sure it wasn't always her getting the first hit

He ended up on the floor, passed out fast

Sevika had you in her arms, kissing you rough, you tasted blood, it was everything, she never looked more beautiful as she stared at you with so much love

"I'm gonna treat you so good, baby."

Tonight was far from over

[pitchsidestories]

el sueño de una niña (2) II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

part 1 | masterlist | word count: 1803

summary: Jenni promised reader's daughter Mila to come to her first football match, can she keep her promise despite being away with the Spanish national team.

author's note: dear readers, you asked for a part 2 and here it's, please enjoy. Let us know your thoughts on the oneshot.💜🖤

“But you promised to come…”, Mila whined through the phone, her voice on the verge of cracking. The disappointment in the little girls voice weighed heavy on Jennis heart.

She winced as she replied: “I know, I know.”

“It’s my first important game…”, Mila complained.

Jenni sighed. She was the one who had helped Mila find a football team in her age class, the one who had bought her first pair of cleats and also the one who had promised her support for her first game. Only, she had forgotten that she would be away with the national team at the time of Milas first game.

“I'll find a way to be there, Mila.”, Jenni promised determinedly. She didn’t know how yet but there was no way she would disappoint her.

Mila seemed a bit more calm at the end of their call but at the same time the conversation had attracted the interest of Jennis spanish team mates.

“Mila has a game?”, Alexia asked, her eyebrows moved towards her hairline with curiosity.

Jenni threw her phone on her hotelbed with frustration: “Yes, it’s her first one. She asked me to come weeks ago.”

Irene who leaned in the doorframe smiled to herself: “Do you all remember your first games?”

“Who doesn’t?”, Alexia replied with a grin.

“We all do.”, Jenni agreed. She knew from experience how formative first games could be.

Aitana stood there, frowning at Jenni like her brain was working at full speed: “But how do you get to her game when you’re here with us right now?”

The hotelroom went quiet as everyone seemed to search for a solution to help Jenni out.

“Easy, fake an injury.”, Mariona blurted out.

Four pairs of eyes stared at her. The disbelief about her suggestion was palpable inside the room.

Jennis face suddenly lit up as she got up from her bed: “During training later? Mario, you’re a genius!”

Excitedly, the darkhaired player pressed a grateful kiss to Marionas cheek and picked her up to whirl her around.

“Jenni!”, she protested, her cheeks slightly reddened.

“Sorry!”, Jenni laughed and finally let Mariona back down.

“Don’t tell anyone that I had anything to do with it.”, Mariona pleaded.

Jenni winked at her nonchalantly: “Oh, don’t worry, Darling. I’d not tell a soul.”

“Good.”

A few hours later, Jenni went down just as planned during a training drill. She held her knee and screamed in pain. The other players crowded around her, faking worried looks. Alexias eyebrows knotted together, indicating that Jenni was definitely overdoing it.

“Jennifer? Are you alright?”, their coach asked, crouching down to Jenni.

“No.”, the football player moaned.

“The physio should take a look at it.”, Alexia interrupted, trying to steer the conversation into the right direction.

Jenni nodded quickly: “Yes, just to be sure. That really didn’t feel good.”

“Okay.”, Montse agreed as she watched her get up and limp off towards the physios.

A short time later, the physiotherapist Pilar realised with a sour face. “You’re fine, Jennifer.”

 “Listen I know I’m fine but there’s a game tonight I’ve to attend. It’s a little girl’s first football match.”, Jenni pleaded.

She shook her head in disbelief. “You want me to lie and say it’s bad enough that you’ve to leave?”

“Not to leave necessarily only to take a break until tomorrow. Please.”, Jenni looked at her with big eyes.

“Excuse me, you want me to compromise my integrity.”, Pilar protested.

“It’s for a good cause.”, the striker gave her the most charming smile in the hope it would work on the physio like it did on all the women before. Nowadays, the specific grin was usually reserved for Mila and you. But this was an emergency.

“You owe me, Hermoso.”, she warned her.

“I know, you can count on me.”, Jenni reassured the physio.

“Go.”, Pilar replied in an impatient tone.

“Thank you!”, the football player promptly jumped off the lounger throwing kisses at her.

“Ugh.”, the physio waved it off, pretending to be disgusted by it.

In awe you watched your daughter warm up with the teammates who became her friends. Mila and you were heartbroken that your friend hadn't come yet despite her promise, which she was supposedly so keen to keep.

The referee started the game that’s why you didn’t hear the person coming who put her arms around your waist with a cheeky smile on her lips. A loud gasp escaped your mouth as you turned around to see who dared to touch you like that.

“Jenni?!”, you exclaimed surprised, glancing at the face you came to love so much over the past year.

“Hey.”, the Spanish woman greeted you grinning.

“You really made it to the game.”, you whispered deeply impressed by her dedication.

“I told you I’d. I never break a promise.”, Jenni answered in a serious tone.

“True, it’s been twelve months, and you never ran away.”, you noted.

“Can’t believe you still think I would.”, she remarked hurt.

“No, I trust you.”, you disagreed whole-heartedly, cupping her cheeks with your hands before exchanging a gentle kiss with the striker. For one moment the pitch and the game faded into the background.

“I think I deserve that trust by now.”, Jenni stated earnestly, pressing a kiss to your hand before releasing you fully.

“You do.”, you responded. Both of you followed the game proudly. The Spanish national team player was the one who cheered and supported the girls the loudest.

A bright smile lit up Mila’s face during a short break once she realized that Jenni did came to the game to see her play. Shily your daughter waved at her which the striker returned with her hands formed to a heart. When the game was on again Mila even scored her first goal.

“There she comes! Hi Mila.”, Jenni kneed down to hug the small girl after the match officially ended.

Milas face split into a big grin once she spotted Jenni standing next to you. She immediately broke into a run and jumped into Jennis arms. “Jenni, you made it!“

“Of course I did. I promised you.“, Jenni laughed as she spun the little girl around before setting her back down on the grass.

Mila cocked her head: “Have you seen me play? You looked distracted by looking at Mami.“

You failed at stifling your laughter while your girlfriend replied: “Hey! Of course I watched you play.“

“Uhu, sure.“, Mila nodded, her little face filled with sass.

Jenni raised her eyebrow at her with a grin: “Excuse me? I came all the way from my national team camp to watch you play.“

The tiny football players’ eyes widened in awe: “How did you do that?“

“Magic.“, Jenni explained, waving her hands through the air as if she was casting some spells.

“Wow.“

“All for you.“, she winked at your daughter.

“Thank you, Jenni.“, Mila beamed and pressed yourself against the football player for another hug.

Jenni kneeled down to her: “You did so well today. Were you nervous?“

Mila nodded hesitantly: “Yes but Mami said she believes in me.“

“We both believed in you. Don’t worry, the nervousness gets better after a few games.“

“It does? Also, told coach that you’re a good coach too.“, Mila said and pointed in the direction of woman your age who watched you with raised eyebrows.

You shot her a smile while Jenni laughed: “Oh god.“

“She didn’t like to hear that.“, Mila confirmed what you both could read from the face of her coach already.

Jenni bit her lip to stop herself from laughing: “I bet so.“

“Mila, are you hungry?“, you quickly changed the topic, impatient to leave the football pitch and the watchful eyes of the youth coach.

“Yes!“

You turned to your girlfriend: “What about you, Jenni?“

“I think I have time to take my girls out for food.“, she winked.

“Perfect.“, you smiled.

Jenni held out her hand for Mila. You took the other hand of your daughter. “Let’s go.“

“Please, I’m starving.“, Mila complained which caused all three of you to break into laughter again.

Jenni ruffled through the young girls hair: “Don’t worry, you will get some food to fuel your body after such a long game.“

You found yourself at a restaurant shortly after. Mila was busy digging into her chicken tenders and you watched Jenni pick at her salad.

But there was something that your girlfriend had said earlier that you couldn’t get out of your head. You leaned forward, your chin resting on your hand and watched Jenni curiously: “So… how did you get out of the Spain camp?“

Chewing on a tomato, Jenni shook her head: “Can’t tell you that.“

“It’s top secret, huh?”, you smirked.

“Yes, it’s between me, the girls and our physio.”, she winked conspiratorially.

The small comment of the striker sparked Mila’s curiosity as well. “Was it dangerous?”

“A little bit.”, Jenni admitted sounding amused.

“Woah, that’s so cool.”, your daughter marvelled.

“Mila!”, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly.

“But mami you must admit it’s true.”, Mila defended herself.

Swiftly you changed the topic, looking into your girlfriend’s eyes. “When do you have to go back?”

“Tonight, but I can take Mila to bed before that.”, Jenni answered smiling.

“Really?”, your child asked beaming with delight.

“Really.”, the footballer confirmed mirroring her excitement.

“Good.”, Mila nodded satisfied.

The dinner with three had gone by in a blink.

In an animated tone Jenni read out loud to your daughter in the child’s bedroom. It was a story for boys and girls featuring the life story of Marta. In between you could hear Mila’s lively comments she exchanged with your girlfriend until there was only the silence of the night.

“She’s sleeping?”, you questioned as Jenni closed the door behind her.

“Yes.”, she affirmed calmly.

“Wonderful.”, you muttered gleefully. Eye to eye, you noticed a desire and lust in the way the striker looked at you. A blush crept upon your cheeks feeling the intensity of her stare. “What? Why are looking at me like that Jennifer?”

“No reason?”, she murmured innocently.

“No, tell me.”, you demanded in the knowledge that your lover was lying.  

“Well, I’ve some more time before I’ve to leave.”, she began mischievously.  

“You mean long enough to..?”

“Yes.”

“We shouldn’t waste more time don’t you agree?”, you glanced at her expectantly.

With a playful expression Jenni took your hand to guide you to your shared bedroom, leaving no doubt that she was fully in line with what just passed your lips.

Everything started with a promise and ended with another one.

After you two made love together Jenni promised that you three would be a forever thing. Something like the three musketeers against a man’s world which despite all it’s harshness would never get you down.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[rohirric-hunter]

I don't know if I agree that escalation is important. Another series that did this well is the Redwall series by Brian Jacques. The first book written in the series had a protagonist, Matthias. A later book focused on his son, Mattimeo. The stakes in Mattimeo's book are, if we're quite honest, noticeably lower than in Matthias'. There are still stakes -- one of the villains kidnaps Mattimeo and a bunch of other children and another one threatens their home while they are away from it, but neither villain is as threatening as the main villain of Matthias' story, and both of their evil plots are fairly localized. If they both got away with it then far fewer people would be negatively affected than in the first book.

In fact, both villains are villains that Matthias, as the hero of the first book, would easily have been able to deal with if he had just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but he's not. Matthias' failing as a parent isn't that he is bad at it. It's that his greatest strengths are also his greatest weaknesses. He's a very kind character, and this results in him letting Mattimeo get away with far more than he should, and one instance of him choosing to be kind rather than cautious kicks off the plot and all the ensuing conflicts. (Note that this is not presented as the wrong choice, per se, just an example of how unfortunately bad people can often use people's good qualities against them.)

Matthias then spends the entire book being restrained from being involved directly in either plot (which, again, he would have sorted in about ten minutes most likely) by time, distance, or cave-ins. Getting thrown into a bottomless pit. That sort of thing. There's almost a third plot where Matthias struggles against himself, TBH. His actions only indirectly and distantly affect the downfall of either villain. (This is thematically appropriate for the character, something something themes and motifs, but only tangentially related to this discussion.)

Some of the things that make this sequel succeed where others fail are these:

Matthias is present and active in the story. He is not put on a bus or killed early on; lesser writers use this tactic when they fear the new characters won't hold their own against the old ones. He is present and active; the story is simply not about him. He also passively influences the story through his past actions from the first book (kind of) and who he is as a person.

Matthias is a good parent, albeit not a perfect one. This works to the story's advantage, as Mattimeo ends up sharing many of his good traits that endeared readers to him in the first place by virtue of having been raised by him. Now they endear readers to the new protagonist as well.

Matthias has his own proper role in the story and a satisfying character arc. Matthias enjoyers still have something to be excited about in the story even though he is not the protagonist: here the writer neatly sidestepped the pitfall of alienating readers who are primarily reading the sequel in the hopes of new stuff about their faves.

Stakes really have little to do with it -- if anything the story is helped by the fact that the stakes are all deeply personal to the protagonists and not an Even Bigger Threat that will Destroy the World Even Harder than the first time.

In the case of Tolkien also doing this well, I think the most important takeaway is this: The parent figure must in some clear and important way influence and direct the child figure's story. You cannot write a sequel about a beloved character's kid where things just happen just because. There must be a clear line of narrative that makes sense between the parent and child's story.

But it takes a really talented writer to pull that off (especially if they weren't planning the sequel when writing the first book) and well a lot of people aren't really talented writers.

Generational spin-off media is like “okay, what would be the most in-character way for the previous show’s protagonist to comprehensively fail as a parent?”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Sylus: Sweet Night | SFW

Am I entering a Sylus era? No, no I'm not. I just love them all and got this idea real fast and needed to quickly type it out.

Pairings: Sylus x Reader Warnings: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Whenever he goes to bed, you're just waking up, and whenever it's time for you to go to bed, he's already drinking his morning coffee in the kitchen. It was one of the few things you absolutely despised about your schedules. Just once, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

Sylus could see it on your face as you were pouting, heading towards the bedroom. You didn't even know when you came to just casually sleep at his place almost every night, but it was part of your routine now.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing how you seemed to be sulking as you turned to him. How did you even voice what you wanted? It wasn't like he could help it, in the end. His meetings took place late evening and at night, while your work started early in the day.

He noticed the hesitation as he walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him, "Come on, you can tell me." he coaxed, his words sweet and gentle in your ears, a tone reserved only for you.

You let out a sigh, looking up at him, "I just...do you think sometime we can...go to bed together. And wake up together?" you decided a direct approach was always best with Sylus. He was accommodating to you all the time, as long as you spoke what was on your mind.

He hummed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple, "Is that all you wanted?" he murmured against you, "Then how about...next week? I can clear my schedule then, and we can have a day, start to finish." he settled on, making your heart soar.

"You'd do that for me?" you asked, feeling so content in the moment as he hummed, the sound vibrating against you.

"It's not like you're asking for much, sweetie, honestly you could've asked for far more and I'd still go along with it." he said and you chuckled.

"I'll hold you to that, then." you said, reaching an arm up to drag him down for a quick kiss.

You felt like that week dragged on, your entire mind only focusing on your plans for Friday night. Getting off work and immediately heading towards the N109 zone. You were exhausted beyond belief, but the comforting feeing of walking into the familiar Onychinous base made you feel at ease.

Instead of seeing Sylus in his robe, sipping on coffee while going through his phone, you saw him still fully dressed from his day. He had a sweet smile as he beckoned you closer.

A warm shower, soft words, and finally, finally, the soft embrace of his bed. HIs arms wrapped securely around you as you pressed your face into his neck, your hand over his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. Even still, it ran wild, but that too was oddly calming for you now.

He squeezed you closer to him, and he looked just as exhausted as you were, "Did you pull an all dayer for this?" you teased him, your voice coming out softer now as he looked at you and smirked.

"Obviously," he murmured, "I wouldn't be able to sleep if I was working off my normal schedule." he said, pinching your side and making you squirm closer to him until you were hooking a leg around his.

You were silent for a moment as you thought things over, "I...thank you for doing this for me." you finally said, pressing a kiss to the wide expanse of his chest that you could reach from your angle.

"It's not much, you shouldn't praise someone doing the bare minimum, darling," he said, "Raise your standards."

"My standards are already incredibly high thanks to you, sir," you scoffed playfully. His face was pressed into your hair now, and you could feel him smiling against you.

"That's how it should be...besides, this seemed important to you. You seemed stressed last week about the whole ordeal." he pointed out and you blinked for a moment, processing his words. You didn't realize you had shown that many signs of it bothering you, but Sylus did have a tendency to be able to read you like an open book.

"Ya, I guess I was..." you said, "I just," the words were embarrassing to admit, "Tara had talked about how nice it was to fall asleep and wake up in the arms of her current boyfriend, and I felt a bit envious over it. I thought that wouldn't be possible for us."

Sylus hummed, "If you want, I can put more of an effort into laying with you until you fall asleep, and coming back before you wake up." he commented.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night?"

"Then call me, and I'll come back," he said, "Now hush, we're both tired, and need sleep. As much as I enjoy our little talk, you had a long day, didn't you?" he asked and you hummed.

"I assume Mephisto was reporting about my work day?"

"He always does," Sylus said, "Now sleep, I promise, for at least tonight, even if you wake up in the middle of the night, I'll still be here."

"Alright, goodnight Sylus."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

[deadhands69]

Ramen & Rain

Katsuki Bakugo x gn Reader

Ramen Date

just a weird fluff Bakugo fic mostly written at 3am. not quite the direction it was intended to go but it still ends ish as planned. mentions of angst, turns into fluff.

“Sorry for your breakup,” you say to the messy haired blonde seated next to you at the hero rankings after-party, “are you doing okay?”

“Huh?” he grumbled before remembering the bullshit his PR team spun earlier that week. 

“Oh, that.” He sits uncomfortably, staring down the tablecloth at the tiny high top the two of you were perched at. “Um, that was fake.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, my PR team thinks it’ll humanize me to date likable people so they have me take models and whatever on dates.” He pauses, considering if he’d like to tell you the next part, “and a few times they also did this when I was photographed with one night stands. I guess that’s not so likable either or something,” he mumbles down at his lap.  

Your thoughts flash back to every headline you’d read about pro-hero Dynamite’s intriguing love life. Much to his team’s credit, you did fall for it.

“So, you haven’t actually dated any of those girls in the pictures?” 

“Nope,” his finishes his drink, hoping the glass blocked at least some of his blushing face.

“Have you dated anyone?”

“Have you?” he retorts, barely able to make eye contact.

Please say no, he hopes. 

He tried to ask you out once, in your second year of high school together. But he was going through some things. And you are you. He couldn’t imagine you being interested in anything but perfect when it’s what you deserve. One day, he figured, he could give you that. So he waited.

And of course you had no idea he liked you. Not when his way of showing it was hitting you harder while sparing, having higher expectations of you than everyone else, and exploding at you every time you so much as glanced at him (because he thought you caught him staring.)

“Well, there was Shouto in high school,” you begin.

Of course Bakugo knows about this, he hated it. 

You and Shouto had been best friends since halfway through your first year. So, it didn't surprise too many people in your third year when he asked you to go out with him. Of course you had a massive crush on him for years at that point. He's beautiful, who in your class hadn't been into him?

And it was… Cute. 

While it lasted. 

You held hands. He walked you to class. The two of you always had meals together, but it felt different once you were officially together. You never kissed or anything but that's okay, it was new. 

Exactly nine days and four hours is when it all came crashing down. 

Feeling worked after training, you went to bed early. You'd meet up with your boyfriend in the morning. No big deal. 

Little did you know, your puppy love relationship was falling apart before your head even hit the pillow. 

“Hey, Icy Hot! What are you doing checking out Ponytail when you're already dating the hottest person in our class?” Bakugo berated Todoroki. 

Confused, he responded as bluntly as he ever did, “but y/n isn't the hottest one in our class. Momo is.”

Katsuki’s red eyes pierced through him, clearly he was missing something. 

“Wait, are you not dating y/n??”

“No, I am.”

“...then what the fuck.”

After much back and forth, it came out that Iida told Todoroki everyone should aspire to date their best friend. He took that to heart and asked you out without considering if he like liked you. 

He didn't. 

And he told you that the next morning.

It’s not Shouto’s fault his comprehension of human emotion is so limited. This didn’t make being broken up with by him any easier though. Everything was matter of fact, no sugar coating. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” you mumbled to your feet, trying to think of any excuse to leave and save yourself the embarrassment of bursting into tears in front of your classmates. His mismatched eyes stared at you, still confused about the whole situation. 

“I have to go finish some homework now, see ya later.” Turning away, you hope you played it off well enough. No one seemed to notice as you walked heavily through the common space with a face made of stone until you reached the elevator. 

Bakugo did though, and he was pissed at Todoroki for fumbling so hard that you got hurt. Their already unstable friendship took a massive hit after that. Eventually, after a lot of adjusting, Katsuki reasoned he could be okay with you dating someone else if it meant you were happy (and they were perfect and checked every single box he decided someone would need to in order to be worthy of you.) This wasn’t it though.

“I don't mean high school. That one didn't count, ” he says, remembering how helpless he felt watching you being heartbroken when you never did anything to deserve it. 

“Okay, well there was…”

The girl you were with for a whole month before discovering she was a villain, just using you because she thought she could get top secret information. She didn’t.

Then there was the guy you met at a coffee shop who stuck around for a while. He thought you were attractive but didn’t want more than sex and wasn’t sure how to bring that up. You being a hero was terrifying to him and he thought you’d stop sleeping with him when you realized that’s all he was there for. You did. 

And Shinsou, who had the most amicable breakup with. He’s nocturnal and you’re well, not quite. After not seeing each other for three weeks, you decided your schedules just weren’t compatible and called it. No media outlets picked up on it since there was nothing to pick up on. 

Bakugo shifts uncomfortably in front of you. Brows furrowed and face unreadable to most. A twinge of jealousy overtakes him. Sure, the two of you haven’t talked much since graduation, but he still has feelings for you. And hearing about all the losers who had a chance when he never did didn’t sit right with him.

On top of that, admittedly, he also feels guilty. Maybe if he'd asked you out all those years ago he could have saved you from this pain. His assumption you’d settle for nothing but perfect had been shattered, leaving him to accept that he shouldn’t have left you craving closeness from anyone but him. He should have been there. 

He’s here now though. At this point in life, he knows he isn’t perfect but he could at least do better than everyone else you mentioned. If you let him.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks abruptly.

“What?”

“Wanna go somewhere else? The food sucks here, there’s a good ramen shop that’s open late down the street.” 

“You asking me on a date, Dynamite?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he replies dead serious, “I am.”

 Suddenly you’re the one feeling flustered. A date with Katsuki Bakugo? 

After a quick stop at coat check, the two of you are out the door. Running down the marble stairs to the rough sidewalk, his hand lightly around your wrist to guide you. A rain storm earlier left the streets glimmering, neon reflections from the surrounding shops. A few people trickle in and out of businesses in the typically bustling area, but tonight it feels like a ghost town. 

Then you’re there.

He pulls you through an unassuming door. With a quick wave to the person behind the counter, they informally gesture the two of you towards the small seating area. 

Sit wherever.

You slide over the cracked upholstery at a table in the corner. The pink sign lighting up the window casts a glow over his face, the warm color suits him.

When you left your place earlier, you never expected to end up on a date. Especially not here. The location being as much of a surprise as his sudden interest. 

Sure, you always thought he was cute, but you never knew him. He spent all of high school keeping you at arm’s length. Then after, you’ve spent years basing your assumptions about Bakugo off the headlines you’d read. The dates he went on. Always models and idols. Fancy restaurants, valets, and expensive cars.

But this is real.

Across the table, you watch as he slides his suit jacket off. You hadn’t realized how stuffy the atmosphere was earlier until you see him relax, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up. You forgot about the scars.

The woman running the shop approaches to take your order, not bothering to ask him - it appears he gets the same thing every time he comes in. Having been distracted, you quickly pick the first menu item that jumps out to you. She disappears into the kitchen.

“So, what do you want,” he asks, sitting too casually for the depth of the conversation he’s bringing up. He needs to ask though, otherwise how will he know what to do? “You told me what didn’t work but not what you actually wanted in any of that.”

“I guess I haven’t thought about it. I’ve just been working and-”

“Bullshit,” direct, but his tone is playful as he flashes a slightly crooked smile at you.

Two bowls of ramen float through the air to your table - likely the quirk of the woman before. You’re glad for the momentary distraction, giving you time to consider your answer. The food arrived suspiciously fast but with one sip from the oversized spoon, you know it’s amazing. 

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. 

“Like I’d take you somewhere shitty,” he laughs, “still dodging my question?”

“No,” you pause, pulling a piece of bok choy from the bowl while you consider, “not a villain would be nice.”

“Bar’s that low, huh?”

“...and being able to spend time together at least once a week would be good.”

“Only once a week?” he scoffs, “too easy.”

“What about you?”

He says nothing for a while, chasing a green onion around his spicy ramen with his chopsticks.

“This is good,” he mumbles suddenly uncharacteristically shy, “like a real, actual date.”

Looks like you aren’t the only one with lowered standards.

“Too easy,” you smile.

If he told you how serious of a relationship he actually wants with you, he might scare you off. This is a great start though.

Abruptly, he changes the topic to hero work. You compare stories, scars. 

He tells you how he got the small mark on his neck from a villain with a slashing quirk. How he took out a small area of buildings before Bakugo arrived to apprehend him.

You show him a similar scar on your wrist after the same villain escaped prison. 

The evening passes far too quickly.

As he approaches the counter to pay, you don’t miss the exchange between him and the older woman working. She looks overjoyed, saying something while glancing at you in the booth. He smiles awkwardly, his flushed face apparent even in the dim neon lighting.

“Alright, let’s get outta here,” he asserts while grabbing both of your hands to pull you to your feet.

“Can I take you out again?” he asks, as your feet have barely hit the pavement.

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Perfect.”

more Bakugo: masterlist

[magical-reid]

The rings we keep

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none?

Word count: 1.6k

The badge clipped to your belt was as much a part of you as the Glock strapped to your hip. Being an FBI agent meant long hours, endless yellow tape, and the occasional brush with danger that left you rattled for days. But you loved it. You thrived in the chaos, the adrenaline, the chance to make a difference.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for the chaos of being married to Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind or brilliant—he was both, in spades. Spencer was a walking encyclopedia with a heart that quietly held more compassion than most people knew. You hadn’t planned on marrying him, though, in fact, neither of you had planned on marrying anyone.

It had started two months ago, in a Las Vegas hospital room. Spencer’s mother, Diana, had been lucid that day—something you’d learned was both a gift and a curse. She had smiled at you as you sat next to Spencer, the three of you chatting about books, the weather, and old stories from her youth.

“You’re so good to him,” Diana had said suddenly, fixing her gaze on you.

You’d looked up, confused.

“She is,” Spencer had replied, his voice soft as he squeezed her hand.

“Marry her,” Diana had said, her words clear and direct. “Spencer, I want to see you happy. And I want to see you married before you have to leave.”

Leave. It had been a terrible misunderstanding, her mind tangling the threads of the past and present. But the plea in her voice had been real, and Spencer hadn’t been able to bear telling her no. He’d looked at you, something fragile and desperate in his eyes, and before you knew it, you’d agreed.

The walk-in chapel had been surreal. There was no big dress, no flowers—just a quick exchange of vows, a ring from a pawn shop, and Diana’s tearful smile as she watched from her seat. The moment had been oddly sweet, almost sacred.

And then the moment had passed.

You’d both agreed to annul it later, but life got in the way. Between your cases and his, you barely had time to sleep, let alone complete the paperwork. Eventually, Spencer had suggested staying married, if only for the convenience.

“It’s easier,” he’d reasoned. “Legally, I mean. Besides, it’s not like it changes anything.”

And for two months, it hadn’t.

Today, though, felt different.

The case you were working on had taken a grim turn, and your unit chief had decided to call in the BAU. You hadn’t protested—it was a particularly brutal series of murders, and their expertise was invaluable. But when you stepped into the police station that morning and saw Penelope Garcia’s face light up like Christmas, you knew she’d snooped.

“Mrs. Reid!” she chirped, her voice barely contained.

You froze mid-step, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not here,” you hissed under your breath.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking. “My lips are sealed… mostly.”

Before you could respond, your unit chief waved you into the conference room. The BAU was already seated, their attention split between a whiteboard covered in crime scene photos and a map dotted with pins.

Spencer was there, of course, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He didn’t look up when you entered, but his presence was enough to send a twinge of nervous energy through you.

Your unit chief cleared his throat. “Agent Reid, thanks for joining us. BAU, this is Agent Y/N Reid—she’s with our unit and will be helping coordinate the case on our end.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. You saw Emily Prentiss glance at Spencer, her brow raised in mild amusement. Derek Morgan’s smirk was almost immediate, while JJ covered her mouth, clearly trying to hide her surprise.

“Reid?” Derek repeated his grin widening.

“Y/N Reid,” you said firmly, emphasizing your first name. “Yes. We’re married. No, it’s not relevant to the case.”

Penelope let out an audible squeal from the corner of the room, and you shot her a warning glare.

“It’s not relevant,” Spencer agreed, his voice calm but his ears slightly pink. “Can we move on?”

Derek chuckled but relented, turning his attention back to the board. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

The case was grim—a string of murders targeting young women who all bore a striking resemblance to one another. Blond hair, blue eyes, petite builds. They’d been abducted, held for days, then left posed in public spaces. The unsub was meticulous, methodical, and growing more confident with each kill.

By midday, the conference room was a storm of theories and strategies. Your units worked well together, bouncing ideas off one another as new leads emerged. But despite the progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t the unsub—though God knew you’d had stalkers in your line of work. No, this was different.

You looked up from your notes and caught Spencer’s gaze. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the map.

The weight in your chest grew heavier.

Spencer was your husband. Legally, at least. But in every other way, he was your coworker. He was brilliant and kind and occasionally maddening, but you didn’t know how to be his wife. Not really.

“Y/N?”

JJ’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, you and Reid should interview the victim’s roommate together. She might be more comfortable with a familiar face,” JJ said, glancing between you and Spencer.

You hesitated, but Spencer nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “We’ll take my car.”

The drive was awkward.

Spencer fidgeted with the radio, flipping through stations before settling on classical. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the growing tension between you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally.

“So have you.”

He sighed, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you… okay? With everyone knowing, I mean.”

You frowned. “It’s not like we planned this, Spencer. Besides, it was bound to come out eventually.”

“I know. But I don’t want it to make things harder for you.”

You softened at his words. Despite his sometimes awkward demeanor, Spencer had a way of saying the right thing when it mattered most.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Really.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.

The interview went smoothly, though it yielded little new information. The roommate was distraught, her hands trembling as she recounted the last time she’d seen the victim. You kept your tone gentle, and your questions open-ended, but the answers all led to the same dead ends.

When you returned to the station, the atmosphere had shifted. Penelope was typing furiously at her laptop, muttering under her breath about search parameters. Emily and Derek were deep in conversation, while Hotch stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed.

“We have a lead,” he announced as you and Spencer entered. “The unsub’s car was spotted near a bus station downtown. Surveillance footage shows him leaving the scene shortly after the last victim was found.”

He gestured to the screen, where a grainy image of a man in a baseball cap appeared. His face was partially obscured, but something about his posture sent a chill down your spine.

“The station is less than a mile from here,” Hotch continued. “We need to move quickly.”

Your team sprang into action, splitting into smaller groups to cover more ground. Spencer was assigned to the tech team with Penelope, while you were paired with Emily and Derek to canvass the area.

As you searched the bus station, your instincts prickled. Something about the unsub felt personal—too calculated, too deliberate. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching, waiting.

When your phone buzzed with a text from Spencer, your heart skipped a beat.

Be careful.

You texted back a quick You too before slipping the phone into your pocket.

Hours later, the unsub made his move.

It happened fast—too fast. You were alone, having split off from Emily and Derek to follow a potential lead. The unsub cornered you in an alley, his knife glinting in the dim light.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your blood ran cold. He knew your name.

“FBI,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you drew your weapon. “Drop the knife.”

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled—a slow, deliberate smile that made your stomach churn.

“You’re just like her,” he murmured. “So pretty. So perfect.”

Before you could respond, footsteps thundered behind you. The unsub’s smile faltered, and he turned to run, but not before Spencer tackled him to the ground.

The knife clattered to the pavement as Spencer wrestled him into submission. You moved quickly, cuffing the unsub as Spencer caught his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, though your hands were shaking. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for any sign of injury.

Back at the station, the unsub’s confession came easily. He’d been stalking his victims for months, studying their routines, their habits. He’d seen you on the news once, years ago, and decided you were his ideal type.

The realization made your skin crawl.

“You saved her life, pretty boy,” Derek said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. “That’s what husbands are for, right?”

Spencer flushed, but his smile was genuine.

Later, as you packed up to leave, Spencer lingered by your side.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” you said softly.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without hesitation.

For the first time since your wedding day, you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. Maybe this marriage wasn’t as complicated as you thought.

Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

[3amfanfiction]

Simon Finds A Toy pt 3

Summary: Ghost takes you out on another one of his murder trips. Why does he think you're going to run away this time? What does he have planned? Part 3 of Simon Finds a Toy.

First | Previous

wc: 2.9k

content warnings/tags: slight gore, stockholm syndrome. banner by @/cafekitsune

Inspired by this ask from nonnie. I went a little different than requested but I hope you still like it!

"What's that?" you questioned, looking at the thick bracelet with trepidation. Simon didn't say anything as he stepped closer, dropping to a knee to pull up your pant leg. When you tried to pull your foot back he gripped your ankle tighter.

"Settle, pet."

Wrapping it around your limb, he latched it closed with a snick before sliding a finger between the band and your skin, checking it's tightness. Pleased with what he saw he stood, towering over you once more.

"There's no getting that off, not without the key," he looked down at you with a steady expression, "it'll tell me exactly where you are so don't think you can go wandering off."

A tracking device? Why did he feel the need to put a tracker on you? Hadn't you proven by now that you have no intention of running off? This didn't make any sense. You'd even gone into town with him before. Multiple times and never thought about running away.

Well—maybe thought about it, but not seriously.

Looking into the frightened face of a young man, you suddenly understood the reason for the ankle monitor.

When Simon had pulled down his mask in the truck after stubbing out his last cigarette, you assumed this would be like the times before. He would direct you to where he wanted you to stand, normally outside the back or side door, and then he'd go on his way.

What you weren't expecting was for him to lead you inside the factory and disappear right as you turned a corner, bumping into a group of self-proclaimed ghost hunters. The screaming between you and the other four was earsplitting.

That had been hours ago, back when everyone was still alive and hadn't spent the night being hunted by Ghost. You almost wanted to make a joke about it. About how they were looking for ghosts and they found one, why weren't they happier? But that would be in poor taste. Especially considering the guy in front of you was the last one alive out of his group.

He hadn't cottoned onto the fact that you weren't nearly as banged up as the rest of them had been. Probably because you were liberally coated in blood. It was smeared all along the side of your face, into your hair and down one side of your body. Courtesy of Ghost slamming you into a puddle of the second victim's blood.

When you'd landed on top of the still warm body you had strangled your scream by the skin of your teeth, scrambling off of her quickly to press against the wall, watching the way her eyes seemed to slowly cloud as the time when on, face slack above the blood that was still spreading. She'd had her throat cut and her stomach opened. Looking at her viscera had your own organs squirming in discomfort but with deep breaths you settled.

You'd stumbled across two more bodies, both murdered horribly in unique ways. Was Ghost having fun with this? Was he playing with them like you'd play with food? Killing them cruelly for his own amusement?

The blood had mostly dried in the time you'd been moving through the hallways, unsure if you were looking for Ghost or for the two remaining group members. Your choice was taken from you when you had to duck under the pipe that was swung towards your head from around the corner. You scrambled out of range only to see the youngest of the group, a man named Ren, peak out from around the corner, still holding onto the bar and looking terrified.

"Oh god, I thought you were him," he gasped in a quavery voice, dropping the far end of the pipe onto the ground with a bang. When you didn't say anything he continued worriedly, "You're okay, right? I didn't get you?"

"No, I'm fin—"

"You're bleeding," he interrupted, finally noticing the blood, his face went gray at the sight.

"It's not mine. It was— there was this girl. With a red shirt—?"

Watching as the realization of who's blood was covering you hit him about broke your heart. In that moment you wanted to leave. You wanted to take his hand and sneak past Ghost, get outside and run. You could do it, you knew you could. You knew how he thought, you'd be able to avoid him. This guy in front of you didn't have to die.

You shifted forward a step, mind spinning, already making plans when you felt your pant leg catch on your ankle monitor. Oh. That's right.

He'd planned for this. For any wavering feelings you might have during this little—what? This little experiment? It felt like an experiment, like he was testing you to see what you'd do in increasingly stressful situations. What an asshole.

That seriously limited your options but you weren't ready to give up quite yet. You wouldn't be able to go with him but maybe you could still get him out. You could distract Ghost while Ren snuck out the side. Maybe that would work.

Decision made you hurried to his side, grabbing his free hand to tug him along with you urgently, "We have to go. If we stay here he's going to find us."

Stumbling down the hall, you both hurried quickly through the dark, keeping a watch for any looming shadows. When you reached a crossroads in the mess of connecting passageways you paused, panting slightly, and turned to look at Ren.

"There's a door down that way," you huffed, pointing to the left, "It's a side door so you should be able to sneak out. I'll go the other way and distract him, give you more time to run."

"What? Are you insane, why wouldn't you leave too?"

As you stood there and argued you were acutely aware of the time slipping past. Ren wouldn't listen when you told him that without a distraction neither of you were getting out of there, that you needed to play decoy so he could run.

"Either you come with me or I'm not going," he finally announced, crossing his arms with a mulish look. At this point you were at a loss. You'd already wasted too much time when you hadn't had any extra to spare.

In your rushing panic you made a mistake.

"I know him, he's not going to hurt me. But you can still get out."

Ren froze. It didn't look like he was breathing, he was so still. As soon as the words left you mouth you wished you could stop them. Now you had to watch as his face filled with disgust and betrayal alike.

"What do you mean you know him? You're with that monster?"

"Well, I—"

He took a step back, face an expression of anger and cut you off, "Why are you two doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

"No, it's not like that—"You raised a hand, watching him flinch backwards before planting his feet once more.

"Is this a trap? Did you lead me here to kill me?" He looked around, panic starting to fill him as he swung the pipe through the air as if Ghost was going to materialize out of the dark at any second.

"Ren, if you'd just—"

You ducked under the swing of the pipe, wincing as it clanged against the wall loudly, announcing your presence to everyone. You held your hands up in entreaty, watching the reason slowly drain from his eyes.

You were considering how you were going to get out of there when Ghost appeared behind him like his namesake, stepping out of the shadows as if he had always been there. Looks like Ren had had the right idea with that pipe. Too bad he had changed his focus to you.

You muffled your sigh of relief as soon as you realized it was you making the sound.

It was the work of moments for Ghost to immobilize him, playing dirty and digging his fingers into the stab wound low on Ren's side to make him double over and heave at the pain. You watched it all happen, not doing anything to help either party. The conclusion obvious before the fight even started.

You looked at where Ren was pinned firmly in place, wrapped up in the larger man's arms, unable to do more than thrash helplessly as Ghost stood there looking bored. When he glared at you through tears you had to avoid his gaze.

"Well?" Ghost asked, tone almost bored considering the circumstances. As if this was just another day for him. "Are you ready to try?"

Your blank look up at his mask did nothing but make him chuckle meanly, cruel beneath the bony face plate as he held the squirming, crying man.

"I don't understand what you're asking," you ventured hesitantly, unsure.

"Come now sweetheart, don't play stupid. I made sure to show you a couple of different cuts you could use on the meat, did any of them pique your interest?"

That was the reason for the strange ways the first three had died? He was showing off for you? Giving you examples?

Your throat clicked as you swallowed dryly, putting the warm feeling of someone thinking about you and giving you a gift off the the side to be examined never if you had your way.

You were still avoiding Rens accusatory gaze so what's one more thing to ignore.

"Well, sweetheart? We don't have all night."

What was he actually asking? Was there a trick somewhere in there for you? Something that if you were clever enough would get you out of this situation? He had never been that kind before but maybe this was the first.

No. Ghost would twist the knife as he pulled it out, just to make sure you felt it.

Ren's gaze was angry and afraid over the seal of Ghost's hand covering his mouth as you stood there in bewilderment, trying to find a way out of this mess. His eyes blamed you for all his misfortune because it was safer than blaming Ghost.

You stopped looking at his eyes all together.

At this point you had to see him as a non-entity. He was going to die. There wasn't a way out of that, Ghost had him in his grip and he wouldn't be leaving this factory. The morning light was going to find his body no matter what.

So what were you really choosing?

If his death was a forgone conclusion then you must be deciding on how he would die. If it would be by Ghost or yourself.

On one hand you wanted nothing to do with this. You didn't want to kill this man who was crying even as he was glaring. His eyes were puffy and there was snot running down to puddle on Ghost's glove. He looked distressingly human.

He was a man who had just lost three friends and was about to die himself. The one who wouldn't leave you there alone, who insisted that you come with. He was shaking in Ghost's hold and you wanted to plug your ears, close your eyes and wait for this to all be over.

You could see yourself in him—the shaking fox in the maw of a dog.

On the other hand, why were you still policing yourself?

No matter your actions, the outcome would be the same. You and Ghost would be walking out of here and leaving four bodies cooling on the concrete.

He was going to die either way and Ghost would certainly be mean about it. With how he had 'shown off' with the others you were positive he would do worse with Ren. Not only because you were watching but also because that would mean you'd declined his offer. Returned his gift.

So wasn't the more humane thing to do to avoid Ren's suffering? Ensuring a clean death so he could die with some sort of dignity intact, whatever dignity there could be in death?

If you had the choice you know you would choose . . . well.

At this point you would choose Ghost if you were to be killed. He had crawled his way under your skin, wrapped around bone and muscle alike and wove himself between each nerve. He was in your lungs, blood and brain and you wouldn't be able to excise him without removing a part of yourself too.

You hated him for it in some ways. As infected as you were, was there any hope in saving yourself? Or were you fighting against a riptide, doing nothing but tiring yourself out, passing time before you were swallowed by the sea?

Were you still censuring yourself, even in your mind? You knew, deep down, that you didn't care about this man and you didn't care how he lived or died when it really came down to it.

Mentally, if you took a step to the left, you wouldn't see him as anything more than a speed bump to be gone over. You didn't know him, didn't care about him. He was no better than a stranger on the street.

And who was going to judge you? Ghost, whose hands already dripped with blood, so saturated that they would never dry? He would be as delightfully pleased with choice, even if his face wouldn't show it. Ren was the only other one here and he wouldn't be for very long.

You thought back to the fox, little heart pittering in it's chest as it died slowly. Dog's teeth flecked with blood as he watched you. Which were you? Which did you want to be?

Looking between Ghost and Ren you realized there was only one choice you could make.

///

The ride back to the cabin was spent with you silent and shaking. You weren't able to get inside fast enough—away from Simon fast enough.

You threw your bag forcefully onto the kitchen table, continuing to rush past it and ignoring Simon shutting the front door behind you.

"What's all this then?" he asked with a frown, watching as your bag wobbled at the edge of the table before finally settling. He set his down much more calmly, as if to show you how to do it.

You hated him. You hated him.

You watched it all play out in your minds eye. How you would get revenge. You would walk up to him, pull the knife from his belt and slide it between his ribs. He wouldn't be expecting it from you, not anymore. You could do it. The world would be a better place if you did.

You could see how the blood would bubble with each breath. Thick and red. How the scent of copper would flood the room, leaving a film in your mouth that you would taste behind your teeth for ages. How the warmth would coat your skin before slowly cooling and becoming tacky.

You realized where your thoughts were focusing, proof again of how he had infected your brain. You were never going to get away from him, were you? Even if you left, if you never saw him again, he would still be there. Still floating in the back of your mind, waiting for a time to step forward.

Why? Why why why why?

"Why did you do this to me?" you finally screamed at him, tears of anger and helplessness running down your cheeks. Why had he made you like this? This thing that you weren't sure was completely human anymore. The rot setting in too far.

"And what did I do to you?" he sounded condescending, as if he was humoring your temper tantrum, riding it out until you were reasonable once more. "Took you away from your boring life, from early hours and late nights at your job? Took you away from being alone every night, laying in bed and playing on your phone? Go ahead, tell me what I did to you."

"You made me like you!"

"And that's so bad is it? Tell me, what part does Your Majesty take offense to?" You wanted to dig your fingers into his eyes as he mocked you.

"You made me kill him!"

"I didn't make you do anything sweetheart. I gave you the opportunity. You're the one who grabbed it with both hands."

He was lying. He was lying. The only reason you killed Ren was stop Ghost from doing it. From playing with him like he always did. You were trying to keep him from hurting. You wanted it to be painless.

"That's not what happened and you know it."

"Go ahead then, tell me. If you didn't do it then who did? Who slid that knife across his throat until he choked on his own blood? There wasn't a goddamn tear in your eye when you opened him from ear to ear." Simon stalked forward to lean close, filling your vision as he put his face right into yours.

"You liked it."

Slap

He didn't move, not as your hand made contact with his face or as it was pulled away. A quick blink was all the response you got before he grinned meanly, "Awfully violent, aren't you, pet?"

"You made me into a monster like you."

He looked at you with cold eyes, an expressionless face his mask. Your heart dropped with his parting words. You'd always known in the back of you mind, hadn't you?

"Can't make something that's not already there."

|||

Current Stories || Main Repository

[zhbg9224]

I autismed too hard and connected the dots on my favorite video game AI that sing a credits song

[Image ID under Read More]

[ID: A Venn diagram made out of four ovals, each labeled with a letter and an image of a video game character -- in particular, a character presented as an artificial intelligence. Each overlap with these sections has a heading containing said letters in bold, followed by a description. These four sections are:

G - GLaDOS, from Portal

K - Kinito, from KinitoPET

M - Monika, from Doki Doki Literature Club!

R - Rambley, from Indigo Park

Sorted alphabetically and by number of overlaps:

GK - is mentioned in some scientist's all-caps warning about their deceit; was the last-ditch effort to give a failing company new direction

GM - is presumed dead at the proper end of the game, killed by the player destroying their necessary components, until they're woken back up by someone who regains their powers for the player's sake

GR - harbors a grudge against someone that was once leading the facility they run, although it turns out they don't know all the secrets below the surface of said facility until the player goes looking

KM - alters files on the player's computer via admin permissions, then gets killed the same way; hangs one of their friends; jumpscares the player if they notice recording software

KR - was explicitly made to be a user companion and makes that their mission as they try to cater an amusement park to the player's preference; their friends have nightmare versions that briefly chase you for one scene

MR - expresses that they haven't had a strong, close connection with anyone in so long until the player came despite the presence of their "friends"

GKM - wholly in control of the area they inhabit with minimal human input, if any

GKR - highly devoted to their respective jobs with as little deviation from the set plan as possible

GMR - tied in some way to scientists that want to conduct some unethical biological experiments that seemingly become bloodthirsty

KMR - openly sings about how the player was a net positive in their lives, albeit for a small bit of time

GKMR - A.I. that initially appears as helpful and/or friendly and latches onto the first human they see in a while; gets in over their head with the amount of power or lack thereof they have and strings the player along to serve their ulterior motives by deviating from their initial programming to do things with which they aren't authorized; comes clean after enough people die and presents a scenario where the player will be stuck with them indefinitely until one of them dies or fulfills the main goal; sings a song in the credits where they unload their feelings about the player

End ID.]

[the-winter-spider]

Waiting Room | Part Two

Bucky x reader (as always )

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst i guess sorta

A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up. 

The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.

The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.

Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.

The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.

Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.

But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.

The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.

You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.

Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.

Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.

Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.

“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”

That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.

In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.

You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.

When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.

Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.

Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.

He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.

Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.

And you didn’t care if you ever came back.

The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.

Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.

“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”

The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.

Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.

It was you.

Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.

The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.

Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”

The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.

You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.

What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.

Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.

When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”

Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”

Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”

Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”

Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”

Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”

Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.

And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.

The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”

Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.

She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”

Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.

Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”

Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”

Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”

Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”

He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”

“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”

Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”

“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”

Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”

Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”

Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”

Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”

Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”

The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.

The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.

Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.

Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”

Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”

Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”

Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”

Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.

As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.

As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.

Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”

Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.

Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”

The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”

The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”

Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.

The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”

The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”

Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”

The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”

The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.

“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.

The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”

The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.

Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”

“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”

Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”

The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.

Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.

The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.

Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.

You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.

You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.

The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”

Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.

“ Трудно(Hard).”

Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”

Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”

Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.

Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”

The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.

Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”

Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.

He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”

You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”

Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.

Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.

“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.

But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.

You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.

The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.

Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.

Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”

[notthewriteryourelookingfor]

I might be misunderstanding this argument

But the main reason why I'm ok w Mary's actions & not Ed's is cuz Mary didn't actually kill Stede.

Also Mary didn't cut off Stedes toes & feed them to him one by one?

Like if Eds actions was only limited to shooting Izzy in the knee then I'd be like "yeah, he & Mary's actions were the same"

But his actions went beyond that

He cut off 3 of Izzy's toes 1 by 1 & fed them to him, 2 of which were done because of what the crew was doing (?)

Like I'm sorry but Ed's actions were abusive, they were a pattern of behaviour not only directed at Izzy but at the other members of the crew like Lucius & everyone that got stranded at the end of S1.

Yes, shooting Izzy in the leg may have had the same motives as Mary but even then I highly doubt a lot of people would feel the same if Mary had actually killed Stede.

Also Ed's violence was for control at first and then the freedom of death, he was suicidal.

Ed was the abuser.

Izzy was being a controlling dick, yeah, but he could have easily thrown Izzy out or abandoned him at a port or even killed him before all the events in s2.

So no, unless I'm misunderstanding something I don't think Mary planning on killing Stede with a skewer (which was meant to be painless) and Ed abusing the crew and physically dismembering and then shooting Izzy is the same

Thinking about the parallels between Ed’s and Mary’s violence. Stede hardly even questions Mary’s attempt to kill him, he’s mostly outraged at the method. The story punishes violence stemming from racism or enforcement of harmful social norms, but Mary’s violence to ensure she can continue to live a life where she can be herself is completely unpunished. Instead it’s an open action of self protection and expression that leads to understanding and love and a better outcome for everyone. She’s rewarded! She gets to end the marriage while also reconciling with Stede and knowing that they will both be free and happy. Also she gets Doug and the money (free real estate!) What more do we need to reinforce the message that it’s not violence that’s the problem, it’s why you use it

Ed’s violence against Izzy was for freedom too, but even more justified because it wasn’t just freedom from an unsuitable and stifling marriage, it was freedom from targeted abuse and control

Mary’s skewer more than validates Ed’s leg shot and I will die on this hill

[nepenthendline]

'I can't believe he was trying to hit on you whilst I was right there,' Shinsou grumbled, as you giggled in response.

'Maybe you'll need to put a collar on me so they know I'm yours,' you suggested in a teasing manner. His brow raised and his lips curved into a smirk.

'Yeah, maybe I should.'

-----

Your hand was laced with Shinsou's as he led, almost dragged, you to his apartment after your date. Even after a year and a half of being together, he still planned sweet dates for the two of you at least once a week, which often ended up at you back at his, or your, apartment to cuddle or more.

The door swung open with a creak, which he held for you to enter before closing it behind you. He gave your hand a squeeze and spoke,

'I got you something,' if you didn't know him as well as you do, you might have missed the slight shake in his voice. He let go of you to walk towards the coffee table, which you could see had a box lying in top. 'Close your eyes,' he directed, causing you to giggle in excitement and doing as he asked. You could hear some shuffling, and then his light footsteps getting closer. 'Can you hold your hair out of the way?' Your hands moved up to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and waited. It was a few moments before you could hear him move again. This time, the sounds came from behind you and were paired with a coolness against your neck, making you jump slightly.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, and you shook your head to tell him not to worry. As you did, you felt the cold material move across your skin - a chain perhaps. His fingers nudged against your neck, and then you heard a quiet clicking sound. His hands came to rest on top of your arms as he turned you towards him.

You opened your eyes, coming face-to-face with Shinsou, and your hand immediately came to brush over the material on your neck. You could clearly see the apprehension in his face as he bit his lip, and his eyes searched over you for your reaction. You darted over to the mirror in his entryway and let out a small gasp as you saw his gift.

A somewhat thick silver chain adorned your neck, which was held together at the front by a small 'H' charm. It hugged your skin so delicately - tight enough to stay put but loose enough that you could slip your fingers underneath as you fiddled with it. Shinsou's reflection came into view as he came to stand behind you. He brushed some of your hair out of the way and placed a kiss on your neck, pressing the chain into your skin.

'I love it, 'toshi,' you said, almost breathlessly, and grinned at him through the mirror. He let out a deep breath, smiling in return. Then, unexpectedly, he lifted his hands and fastened a silver chain around his own neck, although this one was longer and had a key attached to the end. You turned to him as he held the key towards you.

'Only this can take that off of you, and it belongs to me,' he let go of the key, letting it dangle from his neck in stark contrast to his black t-shirt. Out of curiosity, your fingers trailed across the back of the chocker, where you could feel the indents of a lock.

'This isn't... just a necklace, right?' You asked hesitantly, although you could feel the excitement bubbling inside of you. It was a collar.

He chuckled and shook his head, 'If that's ok with you?' You nodded eagerly in response, reaching up to kiss him. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, thumbs brushing over your skin even as your lips parted. 'You're mine,' he whispered, hot breath fanning over your cheeks, 'and I'm always going to love you, protect you, and take care of you,' his index finger and thumb incased the 'H' charm as he spoke, as if to lock-in his promise.

[wooahaeruby]

To You Extras

Author's Notes

Hi! You know what day it's gonna be? Jihoon's birthday! So here is a little something that I wrote while on the treadmill at the gym!

To You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 2024: After The Wedding, Tour

You had a plan, a good one to say the least, with the help of Soonyoung and Seungcheol. 

Operation: Jihoon's Birthday. 

You had been trying to plan something small for his birthday. Then you all had to pack up and head to Japan for promotions so that was in the gutter. 

But nevertheless, you were going to get him to the restaurant that Mingyu helped book. The guys were already making their way there quietly. You planned to give Jihoon his gift when you returned, a joke one and an actual one planned.

You had to get him out of the hotel room first.

First step: Getting him dressed.

You pushed the hotel door open, kicking your shoes off and calling out. "What are you doing?" 

No response. 

Your soulbond buzzed that he was close so why wasn't he- 

You looked to where he was, curled up on the bed, headphones on, with his iPad.

He couldn't hear you. 

Scurrying over, you jumped onto the bed to grab his attention, the action causing him to bounce. Surprise shot through the bond, his head whipping around, only calmed when he noticed it was you. 

"Ru, what the fuck?" 

"Get up and get dressed." 

Hopping off the bed, you went to grab your (his) jacket from your suitcase. 

"Hello? It's-" Glancing over at his iPad, he frowned. "It's eleven forty-five, Ruby-ah. Why do I need to get dressed?" 

"Because we are going out?" 

The confusion flowed in from his side of the bond. He sat and stared at you like you grew a second head. 

"Why?" 

"Because we are?" 

"What are you hiding?" 

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Do I need a reason to go out with my soulmate between his busy schedules and this is the only time he has free time?" 

Apprehension, you could feel it bright as day. You shot back with annoyance.

"No, but..." Jihoon stood, making his way over to you and placing his hands gently on your hips. 

"But...?" 

He stared at you, eyes flicking over your face. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

"I've been neglecting you again, haven't I?"

There was a smidge of guilt in the bond and you shook your head, taking his face into your hands gently. He pouted, looking sorry, and you kissed that look away. 

"Love, I'm fine. Let's just...let's go out. Please?" 

He kissed you once more, chaste and sweet, only to nod. "Fine, okay. But can we get food first?" 

Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "Yeah! Get dressed, I know a place I looked into earlier when you were at the gym-" 

All he did was chuckle happily as you pushed him away to grab something other than his shorts and muscle t-shirt to wear. He accepted the sweatshirt and joggers, letting you push him towards the bathroom to brush his hair as it stuck in three different directions. You got yourself ready, tossing on a sweater too, knowing you didn't need anything outrageous with the small, late night group dinner you planned. 

"Do I need my wallet-" 

"Nope! I got it covered." 

"Hm.." He stood at the door, shoes on, letting you lean on him as you got yours on as well. "And the place you know is open?"

With a nod, you took his hand, leading him out of the room and straight to the elevator. "Yep." You said, popping the end of the word. 

It was freezing outside, the cold late fall temperatures of fall seeping through your thick sweater and jacket. Jihoon gripped your hand tightly, staying close to hopefully beat the chill. The bond hummed quietly between you, inviting and cozy, helping fight the weather.

"Do we need a taxi?" He shivered, his teeth chattering. 

"It's only a block away." You put his arm over your shoulder, holding his waist. "We can make it!" 

“Tough it out?” 

You snickered, resting your head against his chest. “Tough it out, hot stuff.” 

“Ew.” He cringed at the impromptu nickname, shaking his head. “Never call me that again.” 

“Sweet thing? Pretty boy?” You grinned mischievously, looking to see the continued grimace on his face. “Oh! I can call you Cupcake like Vi from Arcane!” 

“Do not-” 

“Why not, Cupcake?” 

You bolted out from under his arm before he could catch you, laughing joyfully as he was hot on your tail. Jihoon chased you down the street, almost getting you, only for you to dodge and escape once more. He called out your name breathlessly, but the bond told you all you needed to know; he was ecstatic. 

“Get back here-” He grabbed the back of your jacket and pulled you to his chest, strong arms wrapping around you with no chance to break free. “You are such a punk, why did I marry you?” 

“But you love me!” You cheered, leaning forward in his arms as you laughed carefree. You stood and took his left hand in your own, the two rings staring back at you in the street lights. “And you wouldn't have it any other way.” 

Gently he spun you in his hold, another shiver wracking through his body and he pressed his forehead to yours, nose to nose. “Yeah, I wouldn't.” 

Your hands found his and you laced your fingers together, basking in the closeness of your soulmate. “Let’s get going.” 

When you moved to pull back, Jihoon only kept you close, shaking his head some. “One more minute. You are always around, but I miss you.” 

“Yeah well, we went from getting married to another tour so blame your management.” You joked, pecking his lips. “But, maybe after the new year we can finally book our honeymoon before you go into the military.” 

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned, huffing out a cloudy breath from the cold air. “But at least I can still have you close to me.” 

“Come on, loser, I know you are hungry.” You let one of his hands go, spotting the lit sign of the restaurant not far down.

Jihoon was the first to swing your hands between the both of you, following your strides towards the restaurant. He stopped outside, seeing the lights inside were off and the shades were drawn, almost like it was closed. 

“Are you sure it is open?” 

“Mhmm~” You tugged him towards the door, humming gleefully to yourself. 

Pulling the door open, you were still met with the dark interior. Jihoon went to question your abrupt entrance into the restaurant, only for the lights to flicker on and a loud, out of tune cheer from his group members wishing him a happy birthday. 

Jihoon jumped at your side, bewilderment rushing through the bond, but you only laughed, jumping happily at his side. 

“Happy birthday!” You joined the cheer, grabbing his face and kissing his cheek a few times. 

There was a pink flush to his cheeks, clearing his throat as he muttered out a thank you loud enough for the rest to hear. 

“Let’s eat!” Seokmin exclaimed, raising his hands, a chopstick in each. “For the birthday boy!” 

The night was…rowdy, fun, but most importantly, a great celebration. 

Between the wedding, tour, and so much more, things were busy, tiring, and they didn't have enough time to rest. You were glad that everyone had a good time and you could feel how happy Jihoon was the entire time you were at the restaurant. When everyone was finished and ready to turn in for the night, you were glad to walk in your group towards the hotel, still cracking jokes and enjoying the time spent together. 

Good nights were shared through the hall, probably accidentally waking any staff that had long gone to bed. It was late, later than you all should have been awake, but nothing you could do about it now. 

“Did you have a good night?” 

Jihoon looked up from his phone, having received a text from his parents at some point around midnight. He hummed quietly, nodding, opening his arms for you to join him in bed. When you didn’t jump over right away, he raised a brow but you brought over two boxes, one small, and another a medium sized. 

“I need to give you your birthday presents first before we go to sleep. Start with this one.” Handing the smaller one over first, you let him sit up and take it, watching him undo the bow you tied. 

Jihoon scoffed upon opening it, but it quickly turned into a quiet chuckle, pulling the sleek black wallet out. “Really?” 

Your shoulders shook in a silent laugh, nodding. “So you aren’t raw dogging your cards in your pocket anymore. I swear you are going to lose it one day.” 

“I will not.” He protested, placing it aside and you handed over the second box. 

Placing it in his awaiting hands, you grinned wide as he opened it, letting him find one of the beat maker pads he had been eyeing online for about a month. He was going to wait until you both got home to get it but…you might have had other plans when you saw it on his phone when totally not going through his online search history. 

“You gotta stop doing this, these are expensive.” He scolded, but his eyes were bright, looking over the box. “But thank you for both of these, I will use both, promise.” 

“Hm…I like to spoil my soulmate, what can I say?”

“Mhmm, sure, love.” He let you place both boxes aside and pulled you down into bed, getting comfortable to sleep through whatever was left of the night. 

He lazily places small kisses to your face, drawing small giggles and squeaks out of you, murmuring sweet nothings of appreciation as your efforts. 

“I’ll make sure we get time for our honeymoon.” 

You pulled him in for a sweet kiss, letting your foreheads rest together. “As long as I’m with you, I am happy wherever we are. Happy birthday, Jihoon.”

[mathlann]

Marazhai and Yremeryss make me insane and will probably continue to in ways I can probably talk incomprehensively about forever but this:

Has been rotating in my brain for awhile now just for the implications of what it says about "family honor" as Drukhari may have it, and how it conflicts with rank. Marazhai seems to argue his being wronged on the basis of Yremeryss disregarding what he is owed as her brother. At least from how he talks about his mother and some of his other dialogues about Yremeryss, there's a measure at which sibling loyalty matters against other Drukhari. As he says,"only an Aezyrraesh has the right to take the life of an Aezyrraesh." Therefore, Yremeryss tossing Marazhai in the Chasm to die as arena meat is a sign of grave disrespect. But by that same measure, Yremeryss is Archon of the Reaving Tempest and as long as she sits in the chair, her word is law. Marazhai is refusing to be a proper subordinate in the way his Archon demands by refusing to get out of her way once she felt like it was time for her to move on to bigger schemes than him.

And, it's interesting to me how their sibling dynamic also creates this fragile internal stability in the Kabal...for awhile. Marazhai will always scheme against Yremeryss, and she will always be guarding against him, but that game (as Marazhai sees it) is a game of siblings and nobody else is allowed to join in. No other families could rise to challenge the Aezyrraesh if Marazhai made sure all the rival Dracons were bribed, intimidated, or suddenly discovered the joys of dirt naps. And in that way Yremeryss had at least a modicum of "safety" in that regard because so far as internal threats went, Marazhai wasn't going to tolerate any that didn't involve him. He was, a good functional brother and subordinate for as much as that was worth. But that internal stability became an external liability once they hit a political fork. As the only Dracon, Marazhai sat as the primary rallying point for any opposition to Yremeryss' plans, and thus needed to be gotten rid of. Marazhai, as any good Drukhari would, was itching for a chance to overthrow his sister especially if she was going in a direction that was politically inconvenient for him the Kabal. And, you know, maybe he was a bit overconfident about the reaches of brother privilege if things went wrong. Which left a good opening for someone like Nazrakhei, who had the rank and power to offer both sides what they wanted, an easy crack to exploit that unraveled the whole Kabal (for bit, true success ending dependent ofc).

[theothernads]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ ❛❛ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁶ : 𝐎𝐇, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐎𝐔⁉️ ❞ ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ྀི ₊ ❛❛𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬❞ ☰

SYNOPSIS: ₊˚⊹♡ : ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

With the third magical academic year starting, you and Jungwon plan to have a normal school year and complete many goals. Except, you have to earn Enchantix with your frequent burn-outs, and Jungwon wants to become a full-fledged warrior and push past his anxiety. With their own goals in mind, they feel like 2 idiots that keep meeting by chance. However, when mysterious events threaten the magical kingdoms and schools, the specialists and fairies have to figure out the culprit and save the magical universe. But fate has other plans for their adventures and for your ‘coincidental’ meeting with Jungwon.

𝖸𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

╰┈➤𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask) 𐙚

Wc: 3.1 k

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THE NEXT WEEK CAME FASTER THAN EXPECTED. You were totally ready to head out to the forest, making sure to gear up. The journal in your hands protruded with sticky notes, accompanied by creased corners and a small bookmark detailing the last page you visited.

You and the girls made sure to wear the appropriate attire — trousers and full-length sleeved top tainted a dull cream colour. And sensible trainers to trek through the nature's path.

You had only been to Black Mud Swamp twice, and that was all in the last year. The tranquillity in nature's sussurations and the zephyr that weaved through slews of emerald leaves was a key memory that composed you.

Palladium allowed everyone to split into groups, giving the task of collecting specific plants scattered about the woods. An assignment to further everyone's scavenger skills.

"Okay, what do we need to do then?" Minji asked as she leaned against a random bark of a tree. Right now, you and the girls had separated from the majority of the second and third years, claiming a spot a few metres away.

"Reconnect with nature?" Hanni said, purposely shooting a look to Haerin, who simply gave a blank stare of indifference. The girl did not really care about her uninterest in the outside world.

"No, we have to find some materials, check them off our list and get back to Palladium the quickest," Dani explained, standing beside you with a little notepad in her hand. Hyein and Hanni groaned.

"And where are we supposed to find those? There was no manual when we came here," complained Hyein, making the others and you giggle. Shaking your head, you spoke.

"Well, I am a nature fairy so..." You trailed off, holding up the paper listing the different flora needed to be captured. It should be easy enough since you had seen these before and made meticulous notes upon them in your journal on previous occasions.

"Okay, miss flower girl, show us where to go," Haerin said with a sly and cheeky smile.

That's how the group ended up splitting: Minji and you; Dani and Haerin; Hanni and Hyein. You set them off to specific directions and told them the signs of each plant being spotted by making them write down in their own notepads.

Right now, you and Minji sauntered carefully over some stinging stems, careful not to let the thorns graze skin.

"Are we getting closer?" Minji whined, holding onto your arm as your eyes focused on the open journal before you. You hummed absentmindedly as you focused on the first item of the list.

Bell vines — it was a long stem of bell-shaped pink and white flowers growing from them, usually curved around branches and solid tree trunks.

They happened to be where sunlight was scarce, causing the vines to grow up trunks and trees. It only led you and Minji deeper into the forest.

"Yn, I see them!" Minji squealed, making you look up to see a clearing where few streams of sunlight seeped through the leaves and lit up the bell flowers on the vines. As expected, they coiled around a crooked branch.

"Ugh... but there are way too many stinging stems here," she grimaced, looking down at the mixed foliage. You held her arm and urged her to stay right where she was.

"I'll go. I can see which ones are normal. You stay," you said, already stepping forward before she could even pull you back. Minji muttered something about being careful, but you were in your element.

Stepping over the twigs and mixture of moss and grass for a few metres, you finally reached the bell vines hung around a low branch. When you looked behind to let Minji know, she was concealed by the burly trunks. It didn't matter now because you finally got at least one item.

With your journal under your arm, you intended to stretch your palm to the tipping branch, the bell vines ever so close to your fingertips when a mystical whisper shadowed your ears and a rustle froze your limbs.

"On your right... look!"

It wasn't the first time the trees talked to you, but it still startled you whenever you ventured out randomly to take a walk or get a fresh breath of air. But with this message, confusion — possibly, fear— wrapped around your thoughts like vines.

It wasn't uncommon for the swamp to be crawling with creatures, but the thought of actually confronting one made the goosebumps prickle your skin. It would be greatly unlucky if that ever happened.

Logically, you had to be prepared. So, with your journal in one hand, your other demanded the magic to stream to your fingers, to charge your blood, and be at the ready when you faced your right.

An undeniable rustle surged from behind the spots of trees, and the voices whispering by your ears grew stronger.

"There, there! Behind the third tree!"

You turned your body fully, not knowing what tree was talked about. The details were just so helpful and made you roll your eyes.

With a shaky breath, your hand was raised, ready to throw a spell, the simmering anxiety rising up to your chest. What on Magix was going on?

Just as you took a step forward, cracking a twig, a flash of pattern hit you with a sharp force, anchoring you to the ground; you yelped, releasing the spell from your hand in a random direction.

God knows if you even hit your target.

When you opened your eyes, horror hit you as you found yourself blanketed by a net. A whole damn net. That wouldn't even move when you tried to untangle yourself and push it off you.

This was not good. Not what you planned when you had your first trip of the third year of school. How fucking great. Panicked hands clawed at the net when you heard a raucous meow.

And another meow, more panicked and bewildered more than anything. Your eyes flickered forward after lifting your head only to see a black fur ball emerging from the bushes and trees.

It moved tentatively on its feet, as if clumsy and afraid, feline ears flattening in slight panic, yellow eyes darting around in alarm. Beside it, a gun of some sort with a large barrel large enough for a net to shoot out from.

The cat walked towards you, meowing profusely as you tried to kick and lift the net from you. This was oh so embarrassing — one, because you even got caught in a net; two, you can't even lift it off you.

A shaky breath left you as you attempted to pull the magic to your fingers again, but you felt the dryness in you. Of course you couldn't conjure it when you truly needed it.

Footsteps faded in behind you, some panicked voices that were too deep to be your friends, and some you recognised to be the girls. Craning your head backwards, the sight of Minji and Dani soothed the igniting bewilderment.

Except that wasn't all — about 6 boys entered the scene as well from the direction that the cat came from, all muttering and conversing until they saw you trapped underneath the net. Judging from the blue and navy body suits, you guessed they were specialists. It didn't help the unpleasant humiliation that curled around you.

Looks of confusion were exchanged between the girls and boys.

Everything was silent for a moment before a tall boy with headphones tilted his head at your struggling sight. "Call me crazy, but isn't that hyung's net?"

"Shut up, Riki."

"No, he has a point," said a boy with a sharp jawline, eyes and black hair as he stared at your helpless and restless state.

Hanni stepped forward, hand on her hip as she pointed to you. "Can someone get her out then?"

They seemed to snap out of it as one boy with two pretty moles on his face, and full lips rushed forward, bending down to you and meeting your gaze.

He was utterly gorgeous and forced your lungs to stop working for a moment. Pale skin, kind brown eyes as he tapped on the spheres dangling from the ends of the net and manoeuvred the net off you. It felt easier to breathe.

When he helped you get up, his warm hands hoisted you up in one go by your forearms, and you had to stop yourself from finding that incredibly attractive.

"Are you okay?" He asked with that deep voice of his. You blinked, finding him increasingly familiar, but you didn't want to stare. You nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine—"

An agitated meow broke through, causing everyone to look at the black cat approaching everyone, eyes narrowing as it glanced at the boys. The girls gave each other glances, and you finally understood what happened before a net was plunged at you. You gasped slightly.

"Oh... I must have spelled him," you muttered guiltily.

"Oh, yn." Minji said, restraining a chuckle. You shot her a glare.

"Turn him back," Hyein simply said, stepping forward as she knelt beside the cat. The awkwardness hit you and made you tense slightly. Oh, how easy that sounds if you felt even a small static connection of magic. Right now, you couldn't.

Giving a look to the girls, they understood your predicament, and muted grey flowers of guilt sprouted on the sides of your hair.

Some of the guys approached the cat, one with wine-purple hair, and smiled wickedly.

"Is that our maknae? Meow once for 'no', and two for 'yes'," he said. The one with glasses erupted with laughter as the cat hissed at him, ears flattening instantly.

"Heeseung hyung, I think it is."

You sighed, thinking of what to even say when another familiar voice called out to you, excited. When you turned, it was Leerae, her own little bag perched on her hip, wearing the same outer attire.

A smile adorned her face but gave way to confusion when she saw you standing before the cat, the one growing more aggravated, clumsily walking in circles.

"Oh, what happened?" She asked as she came up to you. At that, the cat meowed louder, ears flattening in irritation.

This was even more embarrassing. You had already been struggling in class, and now, the one popular person you're acquainted with has to see this.

Awkwardly rubbing your arm, you peered at the cat pawing at the ground, still bewildered by its anatomy. Anyone would be if they were suddenly attacked and turned into a feline animal. You felt remorse for whoever you hit.

Leerae walked up to the cat, kneeling so her hand hovered over the fur ball's head, her eyes closed. Everyone stilled as light glowed from her hands, ribbons of pure shimmers streaming around the cat until she stepped back, allowing the globe of light to morph.

In awe, you observed how the glow transfigured to resemble a boy, now standing up, the shimmers giving way to features.

He looked way too familiar — the black, wavy hair, honey skin, and feline eyes. That's when it hit you.

The dude that gave you his shirt at the party when he spilt a drink down your white dress. Your eyes were stuck on him, drawn to him.

Jungwon looked down at his hands, pleased it wasn't paws, At least he was back in his navy body suit, the familiar gloves tugged over his knuckles.

But then, he glimpsed at you, at loss for words, and he couldn't think of anything else. The realisation flickered to life as he saw your regretful but observant expression.

"It's... you?" You exclaimed, more grey flowers blooming in your hair, bewildering Jungwon slightly. But he straightened himself and stepped forward slightly.

"Yeah..." Jungwon said breathlessly, staring at your features in the light. From the party, both you and him could see each other more clearly in contrast to the dark, crimson lanterns at the party.

He was able to preserve how your eyes blinked at him, the curve of your nose. The fact that he was shamelessly staring didn't register to him until Jake stepped up.

"Jungwon, do you have no manners? How could you net a girl?" He exclaimed, fixing his glasses with a small smile. Jungwon knew he was teasing him, but he genuinely thought he was capturing a creature.

Not a whole being.

"Yeah, and Jungkook's little sister," one of them muttered again, making the anxiety and embarrassment prickle your skin.

"I'm sorry for turning you into a cat," you mumbled to him, gaze downcast as embarrassment glittered in your gaze.

The way you avoided his eyes made a small blossom of endearment sprout, heck maybe a small smile. But Jungwon stopped himself when he remembered he shot a net at you and was yet to deliver an apology.

"No, I'm sorry for hitting you with a net," Jungwon said, looking down as well to see a brown and tattered book by your feet. Kneeling down, he clutched the journal full of sticky notes and bent corners.

Glancing back, he handed the journal over in a way to exchange more apologies. You took it gratefully, the humiliation burning your cheeks as you quietly thanked him.

Hanni snorted behind you, forcing you to glare back at her over your shoulder.

"What's so funny, Hanni?" You asked her with an edge of suspicion. She was smiling a little, mischief sparkling in her gaze.

Probably because she had caught you yearning over this dude on your tweets. But, how can she blame you when the boy looked so divine and sculpted carefully by God himself?

"Nothing."

The boys looked at each other when they saw Hanni and Minji smirking and then looked back to Jungwon, a knowing look in their eye. Jungwon saw and shot them a glower for the wicked smiles on their faces.

Leerae watched with the others as you dusted off your trousers and your journal.

"You still haven't returned my shirt," Jungwon began saying, making you glance up in embarrassment. You know the girls are dying to tease you right now, and judging by the extra pair of male eyes, you know they want to tease him as well.

"I have washed it. It's just... you know, drying. I promise," you rambled nervously, trying not to sound as if you were hoarding it to feel to the fabric. Jungwon betrayed a small smile.

"It's fine. Take your time."

Gratitude was an understatement. You would loathe it if he thought you were an unorganised girl with no respect for other people's clothes. Your mind was spinning with all those scenarios.

It only made you more eager to return the clothing to him to get rid of the debt you had to him.

"Time to get going, Jungwon." Heeseung announced to the boy, fiddling with the hilt of his dagger.

Jungwon — that's his name? You have seen his face twice and didn't even ask the first time. How absurd of you.

"Yeah, I know, Heeseung hyung," Jungwon replied, retreating to where his net gun was, picking it up with ease. You decided to help him by picking up the discarded net and sauntering to him.

"Sorry... about all this," you said quietly, cheeks heating up again, holding out the heavy net.

Jungwon smiled softly, the look reassuring your composure and repressing the humiliation a little. He reached out to take it, his gloved fingers brushing yours.

A single spark ignited in your knuckles, your eyes naturally drifting up to his brown ones. Warm and sparkling with this serenity and harmony that he radiated just from his gaze.

Just as you were about to exchange the net to him, bushes rustled, harsh footsteps marched towards the scene, and a sharp voice called out to you.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Abruptly turning your head, you came face-to-face with Jungkook storming over with two other boys trailing in behind him.

Jungwon tensed and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

A sceptical look was given to you before he ripped the net out of your hands, and (aggressively) dumped it in Jungwon's clutches. Jungwon's eyes were wide as saucers as he gave a tight-lipped look, stepping back instinctively.

Sighing internally, you turned to Jungkook. "What are you doing here?"

Jungkook scoffed and crossed his arms as if you asked a stupid question. Jungwon physically shrunk back, retreating to the rest of his friend group.

"Doing the assignment, unlike Mr Handsy over there." Jungkook jerked his head in Jungwon's bewildered direction. In your honest opinion, your brother was just embarrassing you even more. Nudging his arm, you delivered a glare yourself.

"Can you calm down for one damn second? I didn't know you were also out here," you snapped at him. The girls were unfazed by your automatic bickering, but the boys stared in awe.

They always feared Jungkook but seeing you — his baby sister — glaring and chastising him felt abnormal and a little... amusing.

Jungkook nudged you back but harder, causing you to yelp. "Well, I didn't think I needed to tell you I'm having an assignment."

"You didn't. I'm just surprised." You crossed your arms, eyes flickering to Jungwon, who was haphazardly stuffing his net back into his gun. Jungkook followed your gaze to him, and the boy shrunk his gaze.

The rest of his friends kind of cackled, but in a quieter tone.

"Stop glaring for no reason. I was giving back his net," you said quietly, discreetly as you tried to calm whatever negativity he was sending to Jungwon. The poor boy looked like he could shit his pants.

"Why did you have his net?" Jungkook inquired again in front of everyone. You resisted the urge to face palm your head and sighed.

If you told your brother that Jungwon accidentally hit you with a net, mistaking you for a creature...

It was a thought you wouldn't rather advance on, and a white lie would be better in this situation.

"He dropped it," you muttered. Jungwon breathed in relief. One of the boys had to press a palm to his mouth to suppress the smile.

"Dropped it? From a net gun?" Jungkook turned his gaze to Jungwon, who was flushing pink in the ears at this point, anxiety glittering in his averted eyes. "He's more worse than I thought."

"Jungkook—"

"I'm kidding," he said gruffly.

No, he wasn't.

You rolled your eyes and walked back to the girls and Leerae, journal in hand, and with one last glance back to Jungwon.

Turns out, he was already looking at you with those warm, sparkling eyes.

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[NOTES]: This took so long to damn well write. Sorry about that. Anyway, MHJ has apparantly resigned - we cheered, BUT idk what the girls are going to do now. So, I hope they find the truth and kind of make a decision best for them and reflect the right thing to do. REBLOGS, COMMENTS + LIKES are appreciated <3

☰ TAGS: Winx Club smau, enhypen smau, slow-ass burn fic, violence, action and adventure, angst, college smau, fantasy au, strangers to lovers

© 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗱𝘀

━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱‧₊˚━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay @melancholy-z @n1k1mura @wensurr @jiiyen @jwonistic

[tiredassmage]

veilguard thoughts!

rook + solas parallels edition

spoilery ofc because my head's not full of cotton balls today and i haven't stopped chewing on it all since i finished the game! so! this is a little endgame heavy; you've been warned for what's below the cut <3

the final first playthrough counter has come in just over 67 hours and i am all but physically holding myself back from launching right into another one with another rook because i had a blast. i'll concede it was a bit heavy on the exposition in the first several hours, but what followed has certainly won my heart, and i think the game is visually beautiful.

but i'm not even looking to do a full review here, but i think one of the most fascinating things this game did was set up rook and solas. so, two parts of preface then: one, i was a little determined to love this game and hoped it would at least perform decent. that's my spite about it, lol, but that's not the point, so we're not here about that. two, one of my admitted concerns when they had first announced this game having its own protagonist was... that i wasn't sure there was another person to finish solas's story other than the inquisitor, and this isn't a solavellan thing for me, though my beloved canon inquisitor is a lavellan. solas's friendship wasn't the biggest hitch in inquisition for me, but it was important to my inquisitor. he wanted to prove his friend wrong.

i don't believe hallaren had a plan at the time for how to achieve that. he wasn't sure it was actually possible to convince solas the dalish were not as lost a cause as he seemed to believe, but he had to try.

and when i started veilguard, i wouldn't say i'd have anticipated the parallels of solas and rook, nor how well they ended up working for me. i admit: they got me. i didn't see that twist coming. and the hindsight of losing varric from the beginning makes a lot hurt (i say that as a compliment). i think it's easy enough to explain why i didn't see it, why (my, at least) rook didn't puzzle it out, but i also readily admit i'm historically bad at seeing these kinds of things, so you're free to be amused on your own time, lol.

anyway. regret. not becoming what you hate, what you claim to fight against. not being beholden to what you were or what you've lost. the game hits these beats several times, and i think its a real beautiful repeating thing they've done if you hammer all the companion's stories with the main deal, and i did the memories of the dread wolf as well. rook and the inquisitor have a conversation about it that about touches on all of it way more eloquently than i could summarize.

and, of course, part of the reveal is solas did dabble with blood magic on the matter of varric's death, did set rook up for the level of regret and grief they must settle with to trap them in the fade - a prison fit for gods, a prison fit for a god's regrets.

and this is where i transition into blorbo-specific thoughts. because i think part of what fascinates and delights me so much about the rook and solas, potentially two sides of the same coin deal is how tyr's relationship with solas starts and then develops.

tyr does not trust solas from the outset. which i think is where a very interesting presentation of similar (at their roots) choices begins, as varric says: in a bar, as all good stories. one of the first story notifications we get is how rook chooses to handle the bar owner: charm your way out, or a more direct approach, and we're told varric takes note of this.

varric's own plan is an appeal to solas's nature. to talk his way out. as is varric's way.

normally, i'd call tyr the kind of character (having played with him as an oc in various medias for oh... going on 2 years, is it? maybe 3? time's fake, different post) to also prefer talking his way out. but he doesn't believe solas will listen. so he rebukes varric's plan of just waltzing up and charming him with his babygirl eyes.

then at d'meta's crossing, he spares the mayor. not because he doesn't hear the concern that the greedy bastard will fall to said greed again, and not out of an entirely conscious mandate for live with the consequences of your actions, but... in hindsight with other choices, i'd argue it's... from at least a little of that kind of place.

he tries and fails to reason with the first warden. several times. in the heat of weisshaupt, and with the recent conversation with solas about whatever it takes on his mind, he ends up decking the man. the stakes are too high for risking the first warden staying on his high horse again if another attempt at reason fails, is the driver of the decision.

i'd chewed for a while on how that would seem to make tyr's commitment to "talking things through" indicated by that first choice in the bar inconsistent. it all seems justifiable at the time, and he didn't get to the place with the first warden he was out of intentional malice, but he still wound up there.

much of that is natural by the circumstances he was presented. by making calls with the information and under the conditions that were present at the time, as anyone, not just rook, would have to do under such circumstances, if they traded places. sure, some of it is also by solas's engineering of his conversations with rook. by setting them up to be a leader asked to make those hard calls. maybe even for arguably goading them a bit into a situation where whatever it takes was their only feasible option. which neve has a great comment on:

this is, i think, most directly about varric's death, but also, personally, i have to say is applicable for solas's intervention during blood of arlathan.

so, back to blorbo for a moment. tyr begins from a place that mistrusts solas's motives. the I'm quoting you here, "lies, treachery, and rebellion" kind of mistrust. and then, as things progress, as the team unveils more about solas's past in the crossroads and through the murals, it circles back to what I think motivated much of his comment to varric that talking with solas wouldn't work: that even if solas has any regret for what's happened, he's too stubborn to concede, too trapped by the mistakes of that past to ever admit fault, to hear himself sound like the 'gods' he claims to despise. tyr continues to take solas's advice into consideration the whole time, true, because it's... hard to discount the only potentially close to the problem kind of advice and knowledge they don't... exactly otherwise have themselves. he's not sure what the other shoe dropping in that equation is going to look like, but he's more convinced it'll happen than he is entirely happy with the situation.

the murals create... a hunch. or develop it. that rather than just being too prideful about the harm he'll cause by tearing down the veil, that solas is trapped in this plan by his regrets and guilt for actions of the past. at that point, tyr... has a better understanding about how they got to this point, but it kind of only solidifies his reservations that solas might actually be reasoned with.

the one moment this is changed, then, is during blood of arlathan. because frankly i think that was one of the worst experiences tyr has in the entire game. elgar'nan's influence in their minds, and an incident where they're trapped with no conceivable way out and potentially facing down an archdemon again, not so long after weisshaupt that the losses have stopped aching.

whatever his reasons or motivations and whatever else happens, solas saves their lives. tyr can't find a way around that one, and he's not even certain he wants to. because it's one of the definitive moments where he didn't have a plan, and he was terrified the tables had finally turned against them, and they'd fail.

it's not... trust. but tyr's also spent all this time working with his team on this concept that change shouldn't exactly be beyond anyone if there's a little effort put in. and whatever his own feelings are, varric wanted to believe in his old friend, and so does the inquisitor - both people he respects greatly, and he's constantly calculating their desire for a better outcome into the rubix cube that is trying to figure out how to stop the gods.

the problem then, is that solas all but instantly takes advantage of this... lapse. this faint relaxation of tyr's guard against his manipulations. that whole little incident with the fade after ghilan'nain's fall is all but immediately after, and its a betrayal nearly thrice or so over in rapid succession: that varric's been dead this whole time, that solas has manipulated him and how he feels responsibility for the team and the regrets that arise out of having to make hard choices, especially in times like these, and then on the other side of the fade, that solas has gone to minrathous, solas is playing "hero" about it all in tyr's and the shadow dragons' backyard. and to add salt to the wound, in minrathous, it's been blood magic all along.

and, y'know. solas says sorry, says he won't tear down the veil by his own hand, but hands rook the weapon to do it for him. sets them up again. so maybe that's more like... four or five times, depending on your count and categorization of it all.

and rook has a choice about all of this to make, a certain level of peace they have to make with it all to even get out of the fade. and how much to follow varric's advice about don't become what you hate - what you were fighting all along, or trapped by what you lost.

here's tyr's opinion that solas has more than likely been beyond reason because he's too far gone on his own path to even see that he's done exactly that: that he talks like elgar'nan's control, he's just dressing it up in a different way. that he's trapped by what he's lost and sacrificed and admitting that will be too much.

and here's tyr's inescapable bitterness of having been betrayed, of having spent so long trying to be careful with the god of trickery only to have danced right to his tune the whole time. a fiery emotional response for a threat to his home, to minrathous that he's tried very hard to protect and leave a smidgen better than he found it in this whole fight.

by circumstance... and by a little of solas's own design then, rook and solas confront the same trouble of what sacrifice being a leader demands. what cost is too high? how much is too much?

i had the pieces at that point for the ending with mythal, but now i had tyr bitter and a bit more resentful about solas - in a kind of pain about betrayal that was still asking why? about it rather than worried about if regret was present or meaningful. which is where this came from in my head akdfnas;dfnsadf

you're both thinking it. and the endings directly focus on whether or not solas succeeds in tearing down the veil, but the thematic part of it, to me, was... do rook and solas recognize where they might be held back? does tyr act on the pain and resentment of betrayal and swing blindly at solas as repayment? or is it bigger than both of them? is it about posing the question to solas about regret? how much is it like what drove solas to this point to act on that resentment? is it just retaliation? or did either of them learn anything from that prison in the fade?

and that's what makes the parallel, and it's what sets them apart.

and that's how, still, in the end, i have tyr who is willing to choose trying to reason one last time. for the sake of the advice of an old friend. for the people that brought them this far, the ones who chose to believe against the odds. and maybe, even, a little bit for himself. a choice against letting regret and resentment rule.

for the sake of it and because i couldn't get this game out of my head, i checked out the other endings, just to see, and i... think i like sticking with convincing him the best for both of them.

the trick with the dagger swap i think is the only other fitting course of action tyr might've taken from that point, and i think some of its elements reflect similar beats here about... learning from the past, if you will.

the accusation of likeness to the gods is still there. the banter about wits. i am a fool who finally met his match. one might argue that's for underestimating rook, which... fair enough, but i think... it also falls in line with solas's regrets, the appeal to be made to his nature, the... want, in the end, to be proven wrong. to find a 'better' way, as once he suggested to the inquisitor, and as mythal's release from debt and rook and the inquisitor's forgiveness, if you will, finally allows.

and that is... very satisfying to have said between them, when it's been on tyr's mind the whole time. and... they can both be proven wrong this way: for tyr, that solas wasn't beyond listening, and for solas, that there was another way.

for both of them that they could move on from what these trials have made of them, what they have done, and what they endured.

and man... man that was good. and so, so satisfying. it worked, veilguard. you sold me on these two as parallels to each other.

and that's just... one of many things in this game that gave me a lot of emotions, but this has already been. a helluva ramble, so if you've made it this far, congratulations and i salute you, lol.

i'm sure i'll do it all over again and have even more thoughts about even more rooks to throw around and chew on with this and what it'll reflect about each of them and that's. MMM. that's delicious. i loved this game. if my brain and time cooperates, i'm sure i'll have more thoughts and maybe even some writings for it in the future, we'll see where the blorbos take me. xD