#us or any of his family members if hes even still alive out there somewhere and ive had dreams that he comes back and

[makedamnsvre]

there are things abt me that i dont talk about not because im being secretive i either just forget to mention it or think no one wants to hear about it but i think it gives like important context to whats wrong with me 💖

[modelbus]

Had this one cooking for a while… any other Zach Bryan fans??

Pairing: John Price x Gn!Reader

28

You showed me where your old man stayed Took 28 years to feel loved on my own birthday

“They’re going to love you.” You tell John, grinning at him. “I swear. They’re more excited about meeting you than I am to have you meet them.”

Your Captain—and boyfriend—glances at you, hand tightening on the wheel slightly. Normally he’d have one hand on your thigh, or holding yours, but he insisted on driving with two hands in a new area.

Because you were taking him home. Not to your off-base apartment, but to your childhood home. To your parents, and home-grown memories. To your past.

Was it nerve wracking? Hell yes. But when John told you he didn’t have family to spend his birthday with, you offered up your own. They’d treat him right, and you knew it.

Besides, it was probably time he met your parents anyway.

“And if they don’t?” John asks quietly.

“Then we’ll hit up a hotel. Have a really nice night.” You reach out and squeeze his arm momentarily. “But they will love you. It’ll be the best birthday, I swear.”

“Mm. But if it’s not, I get a really nice night?”

Insatiable, he is.

“You get a really nice night either way.”

And I’s always felt like I’m in between something Like home and somewhere far away

When you first kissed John Price, he had warned you away from him. A misguided sense of morals, maybe.

“I’m not a stationary man, doll.” He had whispered into your hair. “I cant settle down away from the military.”

A military man, through and through. You had curled your fingers into his shirt and met his eyes with steely determination.

“Guess that makes two of us.” You responded, leaning up to kiss him again.

Not a stationary man. Sure, that you could believe. He liked being in the firefight, out there following his own morals and rules. Leading men and coming back with them all in one piece.

But here, your head on his chest, legs tangled together in the sheets of his bed, you can’t help but think he’s a liar. He may not be able to physically settle down, but his heart sure could.

And it settled down right with you.

But Tonight, on the west side, in a bar out in Brooklyn I saw tears outline your face

“This one’s on me!” Soap shouts over the noise of the bar, distributing shots to the team. Well, every team member that drank. Ghost refused to lift his mask in such a crowded place. “Here’s to getting drunk and not training tomorrow!”

“I’m starting to regret this.” John grumbles from your side. His hand rests on your hip, tucking you into him.

“Thanks Cap!” Gaz exclaims, knocking back the shot no problem.

John sighs before drinking his, and you don’t even look at yours. There’s a far better sight in front of you.

Soap, slinging his arm over Ghost’s shoulder, yammering on about some unknown topic. The Scotsman is already slurring his words. Or maybe that’s the accent. Gaz is laughing at him, or maybe at Ghost’s grumpy posture. And then there’s John, your John, warm and alive and breathing with you.

Your team. Your family.

Your heart beats in time to the music of the bar, the voices of everyone except your team fading out. Not that anyone else mattered anyway. You were safe within your team and the table they commandeered through Ghost’s menacing glare.

Warm hands cup your face, turning you slightly. You blink away the lights, looking up at John.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. They smear wetness, and for a second you think he’s got liquid on his fingers. Beer, maybe.

“Yeah.” You confirm quietly.

“You sure? You’re crying.” Oh. So there’s where the wetness came from.

You nod, leaning into one of his hands. “Promise.” He’s still looking down at you with that concerned look, so you add, “just happy.”

John switches into a smile, and you know he gets it. Everyone in this damn team does; that’s what he gets for building a team of fuck-ups.

“With these lunatics, that’s a miracle.” He jokes, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

You barely get to savor the taste of him before you’re being rudely interrupted.

“Oi! Lovebirds! Someone didn’t drink!” Soap yells, making the two of you break apart.

“And we all know what happens to the first to stop drinking…” Gaz trails off, and your eyes go wide as you grab your shot.

“I’m not done!” You promise, knocking it back. You will not be the first to stop drinking, even with these idiots.

You can feel John’s laugh against your body.

There’s smoke seeping out of your bloody teeth But you're home somehow

Smoke swirls up into the night air, vanishing as quick as it has appeared. You don’t watch it vanish, keeping your eyes fixed on your Captain’s mouth and the cigar his lips wrap around.

You knew you had fucked up. Nobody else had chewed you out or shouted at you, knowing damn well Price would do it enough for the whole team. And maybe you deserved it, but you wouldn’t change what you did.

Going back inside the building filled with enemies for the intel was a bad idea. But the intel you had grabbed could (and would) save thousands of lives. That made it worth it to you.

Only when the cigar is done does he speak.

“I gave you direct orders not to go back in.” Price says. Not John, because this isn’t your boyfriend speaking. It’s your Captain. “I directly told you to stay the fuck out. And what did you do? Disobey them.”

“The mission was the intel. I made a risk for the success of the mission.” You argue, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And disobeyed a direct order from your Captain in the process!” He returns just as quickly. “I should have your ass written up for it.”

He won’t, and you both know it.

“Never do that again, you hear me?” He asks, fixing you with a stern look.

Even so, you don’t falter under it. “If it meant saving lives, I will.”

“The fuck you will.” He damn near snarls. Price straightens, stepping closer to you. “Your life is more important. The team needs you—“

“The team is capable of succeeding without me—“ you interrupt, but he slams his hand against the wall next to your head.

“I need you!” He shouts, chest heaving, and you see it in his eyes. The fear.

Your hands creep up his chest until you can cradle the back of his neck. His drop to your waist.

“I need you.” John repeats lowly. “Alive. Damn the mission, damn the intel, damn everyone else. You come home alive, no matter the cost.”

“I did.” You murmur. “I came back to you. In one piece, see?”

“But you could���ve not.” He stares at you, imploring you to agree with him. “I cannot live without you. So you fucking come home, and stop being reckless. I tell you to back off, you back off.”

You can smell the smoke on his breath. If he were to kiss you, the taste would invade your mouth. His taste.

“I’ll come home. Every time.” You promise him, knowing damn well you can’t make that promise.

He presses his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the space between your mouths.

“Swear it to me, doll.”

You swallow back the taste of the lie. “I swear.”

I lost my mind on the streets of the city Maybe I lost all hope too Took twenty-eight years of blood pumping through me To get to this evening with you

“She’s a real-estate mogul.” You tell John, chin in your hand and elbow on the white-cloth table as you stare at the blond woman in question.

This is your favorite game: the guessing game. When the two of you are out, you sometimes make up life stories for people you see. John always decides they’re some tragedy. You always decide they’re secret millionaires. Or royalty.

“A mogul?” John repeats, amused as he cuts into his steak.

“And she’s thinking about starting her own firm. It’ll succeed, obviously. And the man across from her is her… best friend. They’ve been friends for years, ever since he babysat her as a kid.” You continue, examining the blond woman and the man at the table across the room from yours.

Was it rude to stare at people during a fancy dinner? Probably. But nobody was going to stop you. And if they tried, all you’d have to do is flash your credentials of being a 141 operative at them. It tended to make people stumble over their words.

“He’s definitely her sugar daddy.” John argues, motioning at them. “Look, he’s greying.”

“Just because someone’s greying doesn’t mean they’re a sugar daddy. You’re greying.”

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes, and he smiles at you. “Well he can’t be a sugar daddy if she’s already rich.”

“Sure he can. All of her money’s going toward her failing real estate agency—“

“It’s not failing!”

“—so he has to pay for everything else. Like this dinner.”

You turn to stare at him. “I’m paying for tonight!” You say, knowing he’s talking about you two and not the strangers anymore.

“Bullshit.”

“I can!”

He reaches out, taking your hand. There’s a light in his eyes that you love to see, a teasing sparkle you adore.

“Doll, I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying I’d never let you.”

There’s smoke seepin’ out of the bar down the street But we're home somehow

Smoke swirls up into the night air, but it doesn’t vanish. You watch as it plumes in the sky, creeping over the night sky. It’s all you can see, directly above you.

Your shoulder aches with every inhale and exhale, and you know if you touched it your fingers would come away red. Your leg hurts too, although less. That one’s barely a graze. That’s not the one to worry about.

Splayed on your back on the ground, you stare up at the few stars you can see. The smoke from the building will block it out soon, and then you’ll be left here.

Surrounded by broken glass from the window, a gunshot wound in your shoulder, and alone. Dying, you know. That’s not giving up — that’s fact.

Your breathing is labored, each breath a struggle, but all you can think about is your team and your heart. Did John make it out? He better have. The man with an angel’s heart, who saw a tragedy and a way out for everyone. Who became the way out for many.

He’d survive. He was too good not to. And then maybe he would finally settle down. Stop going to the bar with the team, choose to stay in for a quiet night.

Breathe on and have his heart beat every moment.

Something crunches, but you can’t be bothered to strain to look in the direction. If it’s an enemy, maybe they’ll put you out of your misery.

The footsteps pick up into a run, and when they’re close enough you roll your head to the side to make eye contact with the person.

John drops to his knees next to you, his gun falling to the ground. “You’re meant to be inside. Fuck. Fuck, baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay.” You croak out agreeably. “Gotta go.”

“Not leaving you. I’m staying right here till evac gets here. You and me.”

You shake your head, but he holds your head still. His expression is so concerned that you can even muster a glare.

“Christ. What happened? Your shoulders all torn up.” Panic lines his every word, especially as he starts ripping clothes to press the cloth to your shoulder. It hurts, but when you try to squirm away in pain he holds you right there. “Shh, shh, you’re fine, you’ll be fine.”

“You have to go.” You repeat, blinking away the tears in your eyes. He can’t die here too.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, doll. Just us. I told you I can live without you, and you’re not allowed to die.” His hand finds yours, squeezing it.

It’s not too bad of a way to die.

“Love you.”

“You know I love you too. But no talking like you’re dying, got that?”

You look at the sky past his face, stars clouded by smoke. It reminds you of his cigars, and your eyes flutter shut with a smile on your face.

“Doll? …Fuck!”

How lucky are we? It's been a hell of a week

The beeping of machines greets you when you wake, and you groan at the noise. Stupid fucking alarms.

But when you go to slap at your alarm clock, your hand fumbles in the air. Something tugs at the back of your hand, so you open your eyes.

The room is dark, but it’s definitely not yours.

It takes a few more minutes for you to recognize the room as a hospital room, and the pounding in your head as a fierce headache. One of your shoulders is bandaged up, and you can feel gauze on your thigh too. You’re pretty sure there’s something on your ribs too.

“Hey sweetheart.” Someone murmurs. “Woah, no sitting up.”

You abandon your attempts at movement, turning your head to find John there with his hands clasped around one of yours. His hat is gone, and his hair is unruly. So are his clothes, which are wrinkled and stained.

“Doctors are stichin’ ya back together.” He tells you, thumb rubbing along your hand. “Evac got to us. Ghost helped me haul you along.”

“Am I dead?” You ask hoarsely.

John sits up, grabbing a cup of water with a straw for you to drink. You empty the entire thing within a minute, and still feel thirsty. And hungry. And cold. And in pain.

Everything fucking hurts.

“No. Not for a lack of trying, though.” He answers, and you startle at the tears you find on his cheeks.

Why is he crying?

You reach a hand up, patting his face because it’s all you can reach. He laughs wetly, lowering your hand again.

“Am I dying?” It sure feels like it.

He glances at the heart rate monitor, then over you slowly. Not hungrily, but assessing. Lovingly, too.

“Not tonight, doll. Not tonight.”

[tryingtograspctrl]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU: CHIMNEY HAN X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: You and Chimney both like each other and he wants nothing more than to be with you but you're a bit hesitant. He's determined to take away all your doubts and make you his.

Warning: mentions of fetishizing and insecurities, mentions of bad past relationships

Part two: here

A week had gone by when you found out about the bridge collapse, you had been out of town taking care of a sick relative and you were so preoccupied with that, that your phone had been an afterthought. You called Athena the day you arrived home just to check in and she was the one that informed you of the incident. Everyone was still in the hospital recovering, they were hurt but they were alive.

To say you were scared when you found out would be an understatement, you were absolutely mortified. You first met the members of the 118 through Hen, you spent a lot of time with her when she was in med school, often running into her during your long shifts at the hospital. She had quickly become a good friend of yours and introduced you to the rest of the team and from then on they were like family to you. They all meant a lot to you and you couldn't imagine losing any of them.

After the call you quickly threw on your shoes, grabbing your car keys and rushing out of your apartment.

Once you arrived at the hospital you ran up to the front desk.

"Hey Brit, the 118 are still here right? Could you give me their room numbers?" You asked the redhead behind the computer.

"Of course, one moment." She nodded, a look of concern on her face.

You stood there anxiously drumming your fingers against the desk, Athena told you they were fine, you knew they were fine but you just had to see it for yourself.

Once you got their room numbers you headed to Hen's first, shaking your head as you watched her lace up her shoes.

"Going somewhere?" You leaned against the doorframe a small smile on your face.

"Hey you." She stood pulling you into a hug.

You relaxed in her hold for a moment.

"I don't think you're supposed to be leaving so soon." You pulled back raising a brow suspiciously.

"Y/n it's been a week, i feel fine, i just wanna go home." She huffed.

"Did you get cleared by the doctor?" You asked.

"Noooo but i'm technically also a doctor, and i say i'm fine." She shrugged.

"Nice try, i'll get the doctor in here and she'll be the judge of that." You led her back to bed.

"And don't even think about running away, i'll track your ass down." You warned.

"Yes ma'am." She held her hands up in surrender.

After getting the doctor for Hen you made your rounds through the hospital, checking in on everyone and fussing at them for their attempts to speed up their releases, claiming that they were fine. They could be so stubborn sometimes, something they all had in common.

You smiled gently as you got to Chimney's room, he was sound asleep, the most peaceful you'd ever seen him.

You had fell for Chimney shortly after you met him, instantly reeled in by his cute face and witty personality.

You'd sort of been dancing around each other for months now, more you than him.

Chimney had made it pretty obvious that he wanted to be with you, though he didn't outright say it he definitely tried to make it known.

Whether that be the multiple attempts to get you to go out with him for drinks, to the movies, or a new restaurant that he wanted to try, just the two of you, or the awkward but very adorable attempts at flirting where he'd compliment your outfits or how you styled your hair that day.

You kept him at arms length though, scared to pursue something more.

You had your fair share of bad relationships almost all of them consisting of the same thing. Men that loved you in private but were ashamed to be seen with you in public, some that only saw you as a way to fulfill their fetishes, others using you as an experiment, just to be able to say they'd done it. You had been through every shitty experience under the sun dating as a bigger woman and it left a bad taste in your mouth, so much so that you had pretty much sworn off dating forever.

You knew Chimney wasn't the type of guy to do any of those things to you, he was way too sweet but in the back of your mind you couldn't help but have your doubts.

You walked over to his bed side sitting down in the empty chair, pushing the damp strands of hair off his forehead.

His eyes fluttered open and he instantly smiled upon seeing your face.

"You're gonna make me grow grays Chim, every time i run into you here you're knocking on death's door. Try to get less severe injuries yeah? Maybe a sprained ankle." You joked.

"Oh how i wish it were that simple." He laughed, voice hoarse.

"Let me go get you some water." You stood.

He caught your wrist in his hand just before you could walk away.

"Water can wait, just stay with me for a while, please?" His eyes softened.

"Of course." You melted.

A/N - This is my first 9-1-1 fanfic yayyyy, i've been wanting to write for Chimney for a while now and i'm finally getting around to it. Part two coming very soon and i also planning on writing for more characters so be on the lookout! 🌻

[zooophagous]

Grey filtered light crept into the room softly, by degrees. Artemis crinkled her nose and shut her eyes tight as it gradually replaced the comfortable darkness. She opened her eyes and let out a startled gasp- only to shut her eyes and inhale in annoyance at her own reflex. Strauss lay facing her in bed, still sleeping deeply. In his “dream state,” as he referred to it. It wasn’t quite the same as being asleep, though he did report dreams. 

His eyes were slitted open slightly, though glassy and sightless. His thin lips were retracted to show the tips of his fangs. The muzzle had come off at some point in the evening. He looked older like this, and as much as she hated to admit it- quite ugly, when he wasn’t able to disguise his appearance with polite mannerisms. 

She slid out of the bed and into her pajama pants. Strauss was still nude, and she would leave him to sleep. He’d need it. She took the comforter and draped it over his prone form, protecting him from whatever sunlight might come in through the window. 

Sufficiently robed, she quietly exited and softly shut the door behind her. Hopefully auntie wouldn’t go poking around and ask any awkward questions about why Mr. Strauss was in the wrong bed. Auntie, for her part, was blessedly silent. Her pain medications had locked her in a deeper dream state than Strauss’ own, and Artemis found herself in possession of a rare gem: A moment to be alone in peace.

This called for a celebration. Coffee would have to do for it. In their anxious hunt for supplies, they had forgotten sugar and cream, so it would have to be choked down without niceties. She brewed her cup and sipped it piping hot. The heat wrecked her taste buds and burned all the way down. At least she couldn’t taste how bitter it was like that. And honestly, something about the pain was therapeutic. Better to externalize that sort of thing. Better on the tongue than on the brain. 

“Don’t drink it all, dear. I’ll need it if I’m going to shoot straight.”

Ursula yawned and toddled into the room to claim her own cup. 

“Mornin’.” Artemis nodded at her aunt. “How do you feel? How’s the leg?”

“Bad. As always. But I did at least get some sleep. Are you about ready to go?”

“I can be very shortly. Not like there’s a lot to pack. Where exactly are we headed?”

“I found an affordable hotel a little closer to the city. Would be a decent place to park a car and start looking for Mr. Cunningham. I’ve managed to speak to a few of our operatives. Most of the clerical staff have been released, but none of the slayer team or security wing has been heard from. Officially they’re still missing persons, the fire department is looking for bodies.”

She sighed heavily. “With any luck, they won’t actually find any bodies and the team members are still alive somewhere. But you know, it was a very nasty fire.”

“I’ll say. Their families must be losing their shit. Have the released operatives started talking to anyone? Police?”

“The ones I’ve spoken to are quite insistent they haven’t blabbed to anyone about anything. Personally I think it’s because I’m still scarier than the Witchfinders.” Ursula smirked. 

“What about us? I suppose we’re missing persons too at this point.”

“Yes, and presumed dead. The building itself is currently sectioned off and not safe to enter. Luckily it seems most of the library survived, but the rest of it is a near total loss. That medical wing is going to be very difficult to replace.”

“Assuming we’ll even replace it. Assuming the Institute even has a future.”

“It does have a future.” Ursula set her mug down with an authoritative clunking sound. “So long as I’m around, and the director is around-” She poked her finger at Artemis’ chest, “-There is an Institute, and it has a future. It’s just not clear what kind of future yet.”

“I wish I could be so sure.”

“Break it down into manageable steps. One task at a time. First things first we get to town, find a few emergency bolt holes, collect who we can and try to keep our people from getting hurt any more than they already have been.”

“If I turn myself over they might barter for the release of the slayer team-”

“Absolutely not. I’ll give them Strauss before I give them you.”

“Strauss isn’t yours to give. But something tells me he’d also give himself up before letting me take responsibility for my own mess.” She groaned and rubbed her face.

“Our mess, dear. Don’t take credit for all my hard work.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The two women froze. Artemis felt her heart plunge into her stomach and radiate a sour coldness through her body.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ursula set her jaw and let out a stiff sigh through her nose. 

“I suppose that’s the door.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s too bad.” She shook her head. “I really hoped we’d have a little more time.”

“What do we do?”

“We cooperate. We’re not in any shape to fight at this point and even if we tried, we’d only make it worse.”

Ursula made her way to the front door. A male figure darkened the window. “Stay behind me dear. If they come in shooting I’d rather it be me.”

She opened the door carefully and blinked in confusion at the not so strange face that appeared on the doorstep. A ruddy face, haloed in white hair. Neatly dressed and smiling.

“... Vicar Martin?” She stuttered. “You’re here? Have the Witchfinders exhausted their supply of fighting personnel already?”

“Miss Harker. I wish I could say it was good to see you, but the circumstances really could be better.”

“How did you find us? Did someone rat us out? Where are the guns? The police? The navy?” Ursula craned her head to see past his shoulder. Vicar Martin only laughed in reply. 

“No, just me. You were expecting maybe Mel Brooks? Can I come in?”

“I feel like I ought to pat you down for weapons first.” Ursula quipped, but stood aside to let him in. “What do you want?”

“Believe it or not Miss Harker, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sure you’re having a hard time believing that, but I’m here to warn you. All three of you are in very real and pertinent danger.”

“Not as much danger as you.”

A deep voice snarled from the stairwell. Strauss descended with a jump and landed heavily in the foyer, making the floor shake. He stuck his landing and stood on his feet, bristling in front of the vicar, teeth bared, and still completely stark nude.

“Oh DEAR GOD!” Martin put up a hand in surrender and covered his eyes with his other hand. “Why… why are you naked?”

“Why are you here?” Strauss tilted his head. “You have a moment to answer before I literally disarm you.”

Artemis stood in open mouth shock. Ursula turned bright red and began to sputter. 

“MISTER STRAUSS! I can’t… why… just…”

“It’s ok Luther.”  Artemis found her voice in the chaos, and used his first name to distract him from his own rage. “Vicar Martin isn’t with them.”

“For his sake, that had better be true.” Strauss hissed. “You haven’t said why you’re here. Very foolish to follow a scared vampire, Martin. Animals are more dangerous when cornered.”

“Just… give me a moment. I’ll explain, I just need a minute to collect my thoughts.” Martin let out an exasperated sigh and pointedly avoided eye contact. “I wasn’t expecting to see a vampire’s penis today.”

“You are one of the privileged few. Enjoy it.” Strauss sneered.

“You should get some pants on Strauss. We’ll all talk about this together when you’re dressed. Now, please?” Artemis asked shakily.

“The Van Helsing Institute has poked and prodded at my nude form at its leisure for this long. When I appear nude of my own free will it is a problem. I see how it is.” He snorted, but still made his way up the stairs to find a pair of pants. Artemis’ gaze lingered a moment on his backside but she quickly corrected herself to talk to the vicar.

“Sorry. He ah… he sleeps nude and he must have heard you come in. Let’s talk over coffee? Please.”

“Right.” Martin followed her into the kitchen. “Your pet vampire is very protective of you. That’s a good thing.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. You’ll hurt his feelings.” Ursula snorted. “If you are not here to throw us in the clink, what is it you do want?”

“I am here to warn you.” He looked at her very seriously. “Miss Harker. The violence perpetrated upon the institute was not something I recommended, or approved of. The Witchfinders have already overstepped their boundaries and then some, but I doubt they plan on stopping just because they get a disciplinary notice in the mail. And real help may come too late.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Ursula rolled her eyes and set to work dusting off a mug to pour the poor frazzled vicar a coffee. “I suppose if you can find us it’s only a matter of time before the Witchfinders do.”

“Yes. It was a bit foolhardy to move into a property that still has your name on it and expect to stay hidden.”

“What choice did we have?” Artemis asked. “It’s not like there are a lot of dedicated shelters for homeless vampires.”

“That is true. And your list of supporters has recently shrunk.” Martin sipped his bitter coffee and settled at the table. 

“A creature of the night is used to operating with very few friends.” Strauss’ voice crept up the vicar’s spine and made him shudder. The vampire reappeared, mercifully dressed. He was now a little overly covered, draped in a blanket over his head and shoulders to hide from the light pouring in from the kitchen windows.

“You aren’t entirely without friends. Without staff, maybe, but what happened back at the institute… the raid, the arson…” He shook his head. “It isn’t what this is supposed to be about. Even if you were a dangerous creature- not saying I think that’s true- abducting all of those people and nearly killing several more with fire and flashbangs is hardly the way to neutralize a single threat.”

“So you claim to be on our side?” Strauss asked coolly.

“I didn’t say that. I need to finish my own personal investigation first. I told you before I am not your enemy, I’m not here to try to trap you or trick you. But I do need to be an impartial judge. And I simply must ask, therefore, Mr. Strauss.” Martin turned and made very tense eye contact with the vampire.

“Did you kill Gregor White?”

It was Strauss’ turn to feel uncomfortable. He broke eye contact. 

“No. Gregor White saved my life. I owed him a debt. I would not have harmed him.”

“Why is he dead? Why does it look like a vampire did it?”

“A vampire very likely did. He was on Sylvain Pietra’s hit list.”

“And you know this how?”

“She told me. She tried to feed him to me. I refused.”

“So you have been associating with her? A known murderess, and shortly thereafter White is dead, and you claim you have nothing to do with it?”

“If you must know.” Strauss bristled. “I was assisting with YOUR investigation when it happened. I took the initiative to find Sylvain when your ilk could not, and question her about the male victim found in the park. It was both easier and safer for me to attempt to interrogate her than any human vampire hunter. I stuck my own neck out for your sake.”

“And Gregor White wound up dead?”

“Yes. I regret it. I tried very hard to prevent it. At the cost of my own skin. I am sure if you searched his apartment you found a good deal of my DNA on the floor. I was sloughing it off quite liberally when he let me use his bathroom.”

“Was it a fruitful venture then, Strauss? Did Gregor’s death at least give you any information about the case?”

“Ehh. Yes and no. Sylvain told me she was not responsible for the death of the young man found in the park.”

“And you believed her?”

“She had no reason to lie to me.”

“So she’s innocent of that murder, but guilty of killing Gregor?” 

“It would appear so.”

“Your story seems very flimsy and unlikely.”

“Your neck seems very flimsy you accusing underhanded little-”

“Strauss.” Artemis interrupted. “He’s right. This entire thing looks very bad for us. It will look even worse if you tell the only impartial observer in all of this that you have a violent temper.”

“Apologies.” Strauss pinched the bridge of his nose and folded himself into a chair, looking defeated. “I am very tired and under a good deal of stress and I am very upset at having to continuously defend myself. Asking to exist peacefully should not be treated like an unreasonable request.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Mr. Strauss.” Martin folded his hands. “I don’t actually think you are the killer of either party.”

“No?”

“If you truly were a violent monster, and these two women under your unholy sway, you would have fallen on me and torn me to pieces as soon as you saw I was alone instead of inviting me in for coffee.” Martin sipped his now room temperature drink. 

“I told you before and I repeat it now. I am not your enemy. I’m on the side of the truth. Whether it comes from a smiling priest or a snarling vampire is not my concern.”

“So what do we do now?” Ursula interjected.

“Our church runs a halfway house in the city. It’s been closed for renovations for some time, but it is most of the way habitable. You’ll need to pardon our dust a bit, but your name isn’t on it and nobody will be expecting us to shelter you. Officially, I’m supposed to be helping with the effort to track and capture you.”

“It will do. We can leave immediately and we should.” Ursula pushed herself up from the table to gather her things. “I do have a question for you Emille. Have you… heard anything about anything else being captured from the institute?”

“If you’re referring to the lycan, no. He’s still at large. Still considered a dangerous, kill-on-sight target. He’s not the big ticket item. It’s Strauss they really want, but if they see your friend they will kill him for revenge.”

“He is alive. That is all I care about.” Strauss turned and faced the vicar. “I have misjudged you, Vicar Martin. Vielen dank für die hilfe.” He extended a claw to the vicar to shake. 

“No dead mice this time?”

“Not unless you want one.”

The two locked hands in a firm shake. Ursula set her mug in the sink. 

“It’s settled then. Grab your things. I’ll start the car.”

[geekywritings]

“You took everything from me”

Trying my best at a request from @christinaatyourservice92​

I changed it a little and hope it’s still fine!

Reader and Cal are together, but when Cal fails to return after a mission, reader’s world breaks down. And she is willing to go to the extreme.

No worries, there will be fluff!

_________________

For years, all had seemed lost. You had managed to escape the massacre on Dathomir thanks to one of your sisters, but she had died shortly after you had landed on a planet you had never heard of before.

You were a child, alone, scared and orphaned. You had no clue how to survive outside the sisterhood, but you had to learn. To honor their sacrifice and to take revenge one day. You started as a thief, using the magick talents you had been taught for as long as you could remember. And while your control wasn’t perfect, it grew every day. Soon, you could steal from the shadows, items floating into your hands with ease before you disappeared in a flash of green.

Eventually, you had earned quite the reputation on the planet and decided it was safer to leave. Especially when the Imperial presence began to intensify. To your horror, it was the same on every other planet you went to. People being oppressed, abused or even slaughtered. What had happened to Dathomir was happening everywhere else in a way. It made you want to do something about it.

That’s how you ended up crossing paths with the rebellion and ultimately with the Mantis Crew. To your delight, you discovered one of your fellow sisters alive as well! Merrin helped you settle into life in the group and soon, they were your family. But one member had stood out from the start: Cal Kestis. A survivor like you, a victim of the Empire’s endless thirst for blood. And soon, your strongest driving force and brightest hope for a better future.

You admired his fighting spirit, while still showing kindess and mercy where appropriate. He was soft and gentle, but also determined and firm. He was balanced, you realized one day and it helped you find your center as well. The desire for revenge would never extinguish, but thanks to Cal, you learned to channel it into doing good.

For years, you fought side by side, dealing the Empire damage in various ways, until your little group split up. Merrin wanted to see the galaxy, as you had done, to learn her own lessons. Cere had put her heart into a new mission and Greeze decided to settle down for a while. It left Cal and you to continue the fight alone…

During that time, you became more than allies. More than friends and even more than lovers. There was a spiritual connection that went beyond normal love, you thought. He was your everything, as you were his. Yet every moment together was overshadowed by the horrible chance of either of you being taken or killed by the Empire. At the same time, neither of you even considered abandoning the mission. It was all you knew at this point.

And then the day you had feared came. The two of you were doing a job for Saw Guerrera on Coruscant when Cal didn’t show up at the secret meeting point. You waited, thinking he might have been delayed, but hours passed and there was no sign of him. At that point you realized that something must have gone horribly wrong. No signal over the com link, the connection completely dead.

You focused on your magick, trying to feel his presence somewhere. It had worked in the past, but not this day. Panic rose in your throat, as you gripped your staff tightly. The wave of sorrow that followed a moment later was strong enough to bring you to your knees. You didn’t want to cry, hated doing so in any situation, but right then the tears would not be stopped.

You had lost Cal. The one person that had kept you moving forward. That had made you believe that things weren’t hopeless. You would never see his smile again. Feel the warmth of his embrace. Hear him moan your name during long cold nights. He would never again hold your hand when you felt lost.

The feeling of utter loss was threatening to overwhelm and cripple you, but you couldn’t allow it to. Instead, you channelled it all into anger and determination. They would pay for it.

Your eyes fell onto the senate building. Cal’s part of the mission had been to retrieve some information from there. You didn’t care about the weaponry details. You would turn the entire place into ashes. You had the power to level the entire structure, you knew it. Felt it in every fibre of your being.

Using your special powers, you went in mostly undetected. You did re-appear here and there to take down guards and destroy security measures, as well as protected doors. A trail of death and destruction behind you, you finally made it to the Sentor, sitting at his desk, staring at Cal’s lightsaber on his table.

Your appearance in his office had obviously surprised him, as he jumped up with a gasp.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“To kill you.”, you replied, green light forming around your hands, spreading like toxic clouds. “You took everything from me. Everything. So I will take everything from you.”

“I don’t even know who you are!”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care who you are either.”

The ground began to shake as you called more and more from your power from deep inside.

“You are going to get yourself killed as well!”, the man yelled.

“And you think I care?” You didn’t at this point. You would bring this entire place down and if you died in the process, so be it.

“I care, though.”

The voice had you freezing instantly. No, it couldn’t be!

Slowly you turned, coming face to face with Cal. He was holding his injured arm and a trickle of blood was making it’s way down his face from his temple, but he was alive! Breathing! Real! And he was there!

“Sorry, love, I got held up a little.”, he apologized, as you tried to blink away tears of relief.

The green glow began to vanish, as you felt the anger seep away. This was no time for a proper reunion however, as suddenly the Senator reached for a gun, aiming it at you. Cal was quick to act however, calling his lightsaber into his hand and easily moving in front of you to deflect the laser right back at the Senator. The politician’s reflexes weren’t so good and so he had no means of escaping the deadly shot he had fired.

“What happened to you?”, you asked, managing nothing more than a whisper. Cal meanwhile moved to the Senator’s desk, asking BD to download all important files.

“You know, the usual. Imperials, Inquisitors and such. I hate to admit it, but a detonator managed to knock me out for a while…” He was trying to be non-chalant about it, but you could hear the fatigue in his voice. He was gritting his teeth, forcing his body to keep working to finish the mission.

BD-1 beeped, signalling that he had all the data and the Jedi turned to you. “Can you get us back to the ship?” Instantly you nodded and moved to reach for his hand before the three of you were enveloped by the green light.

A while later, you were back on the ship, tending to Cal’s wounds.

“Would you have really brought the entire building down?”, he asked after a long stretch of silence.

“Yes.”, you replied without hesitation, tying the knot on the bandages around his left arm.

His right hand went to reach for yours and you looked up at him, trying to discern his expression. There was an ocean of emotions in those green eyes. Fear, relief, love, determination and maybe even a speck of anger.

“I am glad you didn’t.”, he said. “Don’t ever do anything stupid like that. Not because of me.”

“I can’t give a promise like that.”, you admitted. “When I thought you were dead… Nothing else made sense anymore. Nothing else mattered.”

His hand had moved from yours to your cheek, stroking the markings on your skin with so much gentleness. “I want you to live, Y/N. For me.”

“I will live with you Cal. That I can promise.”

Realizing there was no arguing with you on that one, Cal just leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You are impossible.”, he exhaled with a sigh.

“So are you.”

A ghost of a chuckle escaped him, as he closed his eyes. “We do this together Cal. Till the end.”, you added.

“Together. Till the end.”, he repeated and suddenly his lips were on yours. Soft, slow, full of devotion. You would do this with him or not at all. But for now, you were just grateful that he was still there, holding you, kissing you. Your story was not finished yet.

[dreamerdoesthewritething]

Got a random hit of inspiration for a LSK x Reader thing. I write for me, so with anything I write, the Reader is almost always AFAB, unless specified otherwise.

Hope you like it~! <3 ;3

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

You couldn't believe the news.

It had to be a mistake.

The government wouldn't nuke one of their own cities, no matter what. That's terrorism. That's un-American. That's unspeakable.

Yet that's exactly what the newscasters across all stations were reporting. The government had wiped Raccoon City off the face of the planet, along with anyone still alive within its limits.

You didn't live there, nor did any of your family members or even your friends. The only reason you care is, aside from it being a tragedy, one of your childhood friends works there. In fact, he was supposed to have started only a week ago.

Knowing the kind of man your friend had become, there's no doubt in your mind that he was there. He sought out Raccoon City specifically because of the trouble surrounding it. The bizarre murders in a nearby mountain area. That was where he wanted to be after he graduated from the police academy. You remembered everyone trying to convince him it was better to stay near home than to go somewhere so dangerous. He was too stubborn to listen.

Now, he was--

The tears started falling and wouldn't stop. You collapsed on the floor. Everything stood still, yet it would never be the same again.

The nation mourned, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, and you grieved right along with it. You hadn't grieved this much in your life. It's the first time someone you loved was taken from you. Your family and friends were there for you as much as possible. You didn't want professional help. Maybe you should, though, people said. A loss this heavy...

He was your best friend growing up. You were there for him when his family was murdered. Your parents took him in, gave him a place to stay so he wouldn't be alone. When the nightmares would get too rough, you'd crawl into bed with him and fight them off, comforting him by holding him and running your fingers through his hair. He'd loved that, and even though he asked you to stop once you guys weren't little kids anymore, there were nights when he'd be at his own home, struggling to sleep, and would call you up and say nothing but you knew what he needed and you'd come right over to do it again.

People teased, insisting that the two of you were more than friends. Rumors of you sleeping together were constant. Heaven forbid a boy and a girl hang out without there being something going on between you. That's what he used to say. You valued your friendship so much that you never told him there was some truth to it.

Then again, just about everyone who saw him felt some special way about him. That's probably why your peers bullied you so much. They saw you as an obstacle to his affections. Attacking his best friend to try to win his heart never made any sense to you or him. If anything, it made him like them less. He also never cared for those who would suck up to or attempt to use you to get closer to him. He always could see right through those kinds of people.

Why were you thinking about this now?

A month had passed since the Raccoon City incident. How had time gone by so fast? You were staring up at the ceiling in your bed, wearing the same clothes you wore the day before and the day before that. You took a leave of absence from work. You barely ate. Hell, you barely left this bed. Why should you? Your best friend was dead. It was the fault of the Umbrella Corporation who started a viral outbreak. It was the fault of the government who chose to eradicate the city a little too quickly, without giving those still alive enough time to possibly evacuate. It was your fault for not fighting harder for him to find employment in a safer city.

You kept having horrible nightmares of what happened to him. Zombified. Mutilated. Turning to pink mist as the warheads dropped. Screaming. So many times he'd be screaming. Every time. You were constantly being showered in his blood, his remains, his death.

You didn't tell anyone about these dreams. They'd push you even harder to go to a therapist. You didn't want to be on more prescriptions. You're fine. You just needed time.

It's like you were waiting for something. What was it?

Maybe you really did just want to die, too.

What a dark thought. No wonder everyone was worried about you. They should be. But you swore you weren't suicidal, because you knew he'd never want you to kill yourself. How many times had he told you that on your bad nights, the ones where the bullies got to you a little too much and you couldn't stop the thoughts that they were right about you, the ones when you couldn't fight them alone? He'd held you and ran his fingers through your hair and reminded you how much you were loved. How much he loved you. As a friend, of course.

Yeah, you were such close friends that your way of comforting one another was the same, too. The Cuddle-Stroke, as you once called it. Then he told you never to say that again, flustered as you laughed your ass off. Silly teenagers. You considered referring to it by initials, but the number of things CS could stand for if someone heard you might raise some alarm.

But damn, you could really go for some CS right now.

Before you could start crying again, your doorbell rang. Who could it be at this time of night? Not family. Your parents had keys to your home and the others knew better than to show up uninvited, especially nowadays. That last part applied to your friends, too. Criminals don't want to draw attention to themselves, so it couldn't be one of those...Could it?

Better safe than sorry.

You grabbed the bat you kept at your bedside for such moments as these and quietly headed towards your front door. The chime of the bell echoed through the house again. You wished you had a peephole in the door so you could see who was there without opening it. You didn't have that option.

Taking a deep breath, you threw the door open and readied your weapon only to immediately drop it as you, too, dropped.

Had you really lost it?

It couldn't be him. You must be hallucinating.

Either that or you were dreaming.

The hands that touched your shoulders felt real enough. They lifted you back onto your feet, never letting go as you were brought back into your house. They proceeded to close and lock the door before guiding you towards the living room.

The man they belonged to was saying something, but you couldn't hear it. It was like you were under water. Your head was swimming. Your heart was racing. Your stomach hurt. Nothing made sense.

He realized you were lost. He felt lost himself, but less so than you. Before coming here, he discovered just about everyone he knew thought he was dead. That he died with Raccoon City. They weren't completely wrong. His heart still beat. His brain still worked. His body wasn't dead or undead. But a part of him had died that horrible night.

Apparently, a part of you had as well.

There was only one thing he could think to do in a moment like this. It wouldn't undo the month of grief. Nothing ever would. But it was the only way he knew he could get through to his best friend, to snap you out of the shock of seeing him in the flesh.

He sat down on the floor in front of your couch, pulling you down with him into his lap. Your head founds its place on his chest. You practically melted into him. He began stroking your hair, running his fingers through it gently and slowly.

Gently and slowly, you started to become grounded again. You weren't in a dream. You weren't hallucinating. He really was here, alive. Somehow. A miracle, maybe?

What the fuck did it matter? Your best friend lived! He didn't go up in flames in Raccoon City. He came back to you. He really, really made it back home.

Why did it take so long?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to get mad at him for putting you through so much suffering. You wanted so many answers, so many things. He had to know that.

But you thought about what he must've been through, and you held your tongue.

"I missed you, Leon," you said, the first time you spoke in days.

Your voice cracked, you sounded miserable. Oh fuck, you were crying this entire time, weren't you? This was not how you pictured your reunion at all, though to be fair you never thought you'd see him again in this life. You probably smell like shit since you've been in the same clothes for at least three days and haven't showered. What does he think of you, seeing you like this?

"I missed you, too," he said.

Like yours, his voice cracked. You forced yourself to look up at his face. He was crying, too. Not bawling, but tears were falling from his eyes, leaving a trail down his cheeks. He was fighting to keep a neutral expression and failing. The light no longer shone in his beautiful blue eyes like it once had.

Oh god, what had happened to him?

He wanted to apologize for making you wait for him. He wanted to apologize for all the grief, all the tears, all the things that happened since he chose to go to that damned city. He wanted to explain why he was gone for so long, why he didn't contact you as soon as he was able. It wasn't because he didn't want to. He simply couldn't. There was so much he couldn't say or do.

All he could manage now was, "I'm sorry."

You acted without thinking, and suddenly your positions are reversed. His head on your chest, you running your fingers through his hair as you hold him there. He's much tenser than you were. Even this couldn't relax him the way it once did. What did they do to him?!

"It's okay, Leon. It's not your fault," you said. You swallowed the sobs that threatened to erupt during that last sentence. "It's not your fault," you repeated.

Of course he knew that. Didn't make him feel any better.

"You're alive," you said, and for some reason your voice dropped to a whisper. Like it was some kind of secret between the two of you.

"I'm alive," he said, matching your tone.

Words wouldn't come to you. He couldn't say what he wanted. So you just held him. He loosened up a bit and held you again, too. No words needed right now. He was alive. You were with your best friend. That's all that mattered.

That's all that mattered.

[heliads]

i’m so glad your reqs are open again, i love your writing !! i had an idea for a peter parker x reader for nwh after he’s been erased from everyone’s mind where him and the reader used to be really close but now for some reason when they meet again the reader doesn’t really like him and he tries his best to change that.

kind of like a one sided enemies to lovers?

one sided enemies to lovers? anon you're going wild

masterlist

Peter Parker is staring at the ceiling and wishing he were somewhere else. This place is not his home. This apartment with its crumbling drywall and uncomfortable amount of black mold in the corners is not the place he grew up, it is not known by anyone Peter has ever cared for before, and it only serves to separate him even further from the life he once led.

All this is unavoidable, but if Peter slumps onto his bed (too small, too hard to be the one from before) and fixes his eyes up above, he can just pretend that he’s back there again. Back at home. Back where everything made sense, where his friends remembered who he was and he still had at least one family member still alive and breathing.

He’s better at excusing away the present moments on some days rather than others. The illusion’s slipping away for now; Peter squints one eye shut slowly, then the other, trying to get the world to lose just enough details so he won’t notice the fractures that could only belong to this apartment.

It’s not worth the effort, and soon enough Peter gives up, sitting up in a rush and swinging his legs over the side. There’s nothing he can do to pretend that he is back at home, that the life that had once seemed so certain isn’t locked away in the past, never to be his again. This is him now, a shadowed sort of existence full of people who have never so much as heard the name Peter Parker in their lives. There is nobody in this world who knows him. It is some of the worst solitude he has ever endured.

Peter hadn’t counted on how truly terrible the loneliness would be. Maybe he’s grown to rely on his usual support group a little too much, and that’s why he’s so beaten down by this latest turn of events. Even when the rest of the world hated him when he was revealed as Spider-Man, he could still go to his friends for solace. Now, they have no idea who he is. How splendid.

He’s missing his friends a little extra today. That would explain why Peter grabs his Spider-Man suit and throws himself out into the brisk air with the usual flourish, why he finds himself heading to one specific rooftop before he can stop himself. 

Only when Peter’s feet hit the ground and he catches himself in a tight somersault does he realize what he’s done. Peter stands up slowly, looking around. He hasn’t allowed himself to come back here, even after weeks of solitary patrols came and went. Peter pretends that he could reinvent himself whenever he wanted, but some part of him knows, has always known this:  the worst pain of all has been losing Y/N, and he will never get over that.

Y/N L/N is an honor student at Midtown. Y/N was Peter’s best friend. More than that, Y/N was Peter’s partner in patrols. They were an inhuman with enhanced abilities; faster and stronger than any human being. Better in every way too, but maybe that’s just Peter’s faulty memories glorifying them in his eyes, gilding their every edge, making him miss them even more than before.

Peter has yet to run into Y/N as Spider-Man. He did that on purpose; they met as regular people first, so he has no idea if they would have any memory of their patrols together whatsoever. Peter knows that he cannot bear looking at Y/N and seeing no sign of all the hours they’ve spent fighting and dying for each other, so he stays away. Y/N has yet to track him down, so clearly his presumption about their memories was right.

Still, Peter is here now, a mistake to be sure. Peter allows himself one final moment of pretending that they might be coming for him. He deludes himself into thinking that he can hear the pattern of their feet now, the swing of their arm reaching towards him, a smile on their face. The two of them have done this so many times. What’s one more evening together? What’s one more night? Peter wouldn’t risk his life for anyone else. He would give it freely, and he did, and that is exactly why he cannot have Y/N anymore.

A voice sounds from behind him. It’s far too cold and untrusting to ever be Y/N’s, but maybe that’s because he hasn’t experienced what it’s like to be a stranger to them in years. Regardless, he knows now that he wasn’t merely conjuring up the sound of them approaching, they’re actually here. 

“What are you doing here?”

The words, leveled at him like a blade, pierce through Peter’s best efforts at pretending this memory spell hasn’t affected him. He can practically feel the blood dripping out between his fingers. 

Trying not to choke on the overwhelming tang of copper, Peter swallows back his regrets and does his best to speak with a level tone. “I’m just patrolling. Same as you.”

Y/N’s in their uniform for patrols, mask and all. Even so, he can sense the way their eyes are narrowing, tightening with suspicion. “You never come over here, Spider-Man. What changed?”

“Crime,” Peter says pleasantly, “there’s a lot of it, in case you haven’t noticed. Figured this view was as good as any.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m handling it,” Y/N’s voice remains hard. “Go back to your part of the city. This area is mine.”

Peter forces himself to laugh. It’s easier than despairing over how quick they try to get rid of him, certainly a far cry from how close they’d been before the spell. “Surely you wouldn’t mind an extra pair of eyes watching your back. It’s dangerous out there.”

Y/N shakes their head decisively. “I’m good, thanks. Always have been.”

Peter can’t help a quiet plea. “Always?”

Y/N hesitates a second, but their stony demeanor comes back up again in a flash. “Always. Now go back to your part of the streets. I’m fine by myself.”

Peter sighs, the ghost of his last promise to track them down and make them remember him disappearing into the wintry night air. “Alright, then. If you’re sure.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to that, and Peter allows himself one last moment of torment before jumping off the edge of the building and swinging into the endless black. Unable to stop himself, Peter glances over his shoulder as he goes. He notices that Y/N had walked to the edge of the skyscraper, staring out after him in surprise. Maybe they don’t remember Peter’s casual way of launching himself over the edge. Or maybe he’s just gotten more careless since he stopped having someone to look out for him.

Regardless, it’s not like it matters now. Peter’s last hope was that Y/N would remember their time together on patrols, even if they wouldn’t remember that it was Peter behind the mask, but it looks like that’s over. He does his best to distract himself from the aching hole in his heart, but it’s no good. Peter can hear Y/N’s voice whispering in the space between his eyes, calling out to him like the old days. He was always more attuned to them than anyone else. Even MJ.

The shriek of sirens drags his thoughts from the past. Distantly, Peter realizes that they’re headed in the direction of Y/N’s usual patrol spot. He panics for a moment, scrambling for his phone so he can check the police radio networks he hijacked. After listening for a few moments, Peter learns that some big showdown is going down between some unidentified inhuman and Y/N.

The situation is not great, to say the least. Judging by the amount of property damage, Y/N isn’t winning the fight. Peter may have lost his place in their heart, but he’s not willing to lose them, too. Without another thought, he throws himself into the air again, swinging from web to web as fast as he can. The only thing on his mind is making it to Y/N as soon as he can.

Sure enough, the scene is bad. Peter gives himself about half a second before launching himself into the thick of things. Some inhuman who seems to have super strength is throwing cars, lamps, and everything in sight towards Y/N. They’re doing a pretty good job of dodging so far, but Peter can tell that they’re getting tired. At some point, they’re going to be unable to move fast enough to miss a blow, and it appears that moment is coming right now.

The enemy inhuman hurls two cars Y/N’s way. They’re able to avoid one, but the second one is thrown too quickly and there’s no way they can escape in time. Peter launches a spiderweb towards the car, sending it spiraling down the street instead. Surprised, Y/N turns towards him in unison with the other inhuman.

Peter’s main focus is taking out the maniac, though. Shocked revelations are going to have to come later. He quickly shoots two webs at the inhuman’s hands, tying them down to the road. Peter adds layer after layer of web. Y/N quickly knocks the guy out while he’s distracted, and Peter ties him to the ground with another web for good measure.

Only then does Y/N stalk towards Peter. “Once again, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving your life,” Peter points out somewhat needlessly.

Y/N groans, aggravated. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Actually,” Peter counters, “you would have been pancaked by that Honda Civic if you hadn’t, so really, I feel like you should be thanking me instead of yelling at me again.”

Y/N folds their arms across their chest. “Really?”

“Really,” Peter says, “although if you aren’t into the whole gratitude thing, I will accept it if you stop hating me instead.”

Y/N scoffs. “I just met you. I can hate who I please.”

Peter feels his heart sink in his chest for the dozenth time today. “Of course. We just met.”

Y/N cocks their head to the side. “What’s that about? That attitude.”

“Nothing,” Peter denies frantically, “absolutely nothing. Anyways, see you around, new best friend.”

He isn’t sure about it, but he swears he hears Y/N laugh as he swings away. It could just be his overactive imagination, of course, but Peter is certain that they might not completely hate him anymore.

It takes a few more weeks for Peter to be sure of that. The first few times Peter tries showing up to their patrol spot again, Y/N forces him to leave. After the fifth time, Peter stopped rolling up with an expectation of conversation and just perched somewhere on the side of the skyscraper. That was allowed. Eventually, they gave in and let Peter stand on level ground, if only for the claim that it was freaking them out to see Peter sticking to a vertical surface.

It’s not the same, even after Y/N begrudgingly lets Peter tag along on patrols. Of course, it never could be. Peter doesn’t know why he keeps expecting something to change, it never will. That sort of memory spell isn’t the type to break. Still, he keeps hoping.

If there’s one thing Peter should know, though, it’s that hope has no place in a life like his. Every time Peter has dared to enjoy a dream, it is taken from him. This is no exception.

They’re back on that rooftop one moonless night, staring out over the never ending expanse of cars coming and going. Peter is bothering Y/N because he won’t stop pointing out all the purple cars to pass through the streets (Y/N swore they’d never seen one, Peter thought otherwise). Y/N’s been doing their best to pretend Peter isn’t funny at all, but he knows he’s wearing them down.

His point is proven when Peter triumphantly points out not one but two purple cars side by side. Y/N groans. “Okay, you were right. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Peter calls back, “I may never top this moment. Maybe I’ll print out a certificate to tape on my wall. On this day, Spider-Man proved his favorite patrol partner wrong.”

Y/N makes a choking sound. Peter knows it for what it is, though, and he spins around, arms raised in victory. “Was that a laugh? Did you just laugh? After all this time, you’re laughing at my joke. Now that’s a real success.”

Y/N indulges this for a moment, then fixes him with a typical piercing stare. “Why are you so excited about this? Most people would have given up on trying to win me over by now. What’s keeping you around?”

Peter sighs. “I know how good it is to be your friend. Maybe I want to have that.”

“How would you know?” Y/N’s tone grows suspicious. “You know something about me that you refuse to share. What is it?”

Normally, Peter would deflect with a casual joke and let the past die just like it always has. He’s been faulty in his defense, though, and keeps slipping up. Y/N’s noticed it, of course they have. Peter hasn’t exactly been the best at concealing his feelings, either. He references things that Spider-Man shouldn’t know about Y/N. And then there was that one time he accidentally used their name instead of the code name Y/N uses on patrols. He immediately clammed up and pretended he misspoke, but Y/N knew.

So, Peter lets the anger and sadness and deep, deep regret out. It’s been bottled up for so long that it feels good to finally say everything that’s been on his chest.

“I know that I want to be your friend because I already was, Y/N. I was your friend for years, and they were the best damn years of my life. I thought that there would never be another person for me like you. We were friends outside of patrols and everything. I was happiest when I was with you. You don’t remember a single moment we shared because I had to get someone to cast a memory spell so everyone would forget me.”

Y/N’s brow is arched. “A memory spell?”

Peter nods, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the dark night so he doesn’t have to look at them. “The universe was getting messed up. It was the only way. You made me promise that I’d come back and make you remember anyway. We both knew it wasn’t going to work, but the thought of forgetting everything we did together was so horrible that we pretended otherwise.”

Y/N’s voice cuts through the midnight air like a blade. “Prove it. Prove this is real.”

“Alright,” Peter says, and he starts to speak. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask as he starts in the hope that maybe it’ll make some difference, but he knows even before Y/N looks at him that it won’t.

“Your name is Y/N L/N and you were my best friend until you forgot who I was. You started going on patrols when you were sixteen because you could do things no one else could and it made you sick to your stomach with guilt to think that people were getting hurt and you weren’t stopping it. Your first uniform was made out of supplies from the craft store down the block. We made the second one together. At one point, you wanted a cape but we saw The Incredibles after school one day and you decided it would never work out.”

Peter takes a deep breath and continues. “The first time you almost died, you were trying to save people from a burning building. It was that apartment four streets over from yours, for a moment you thought you knew someone in there but you went in even after you realized they were just strangers. You still have a scar on your right shoulder from a burning beam falling on you. I brought you food for two weeks afterwards because you swore you were too tired to cook. That didn’t stop you from trying to climb out your window every night for patrols, though. I had to web your window shut to stop you.”

Peter laughs bitterly at the memory, but it turns sour in his mouth when he looks over and realizes that Y/N is clearly recalling none of this.

They pull off their mask too. “I probably don’t need this if you know me so well,” they say, gesturing at it.

Peter dares to nurture even the smallest bit of hope. “Does that mean–”

Y/N cuts him off with a simple shake of their head. “I’m sorry. Really, I am, but whoever you knew, that isn’t me anymore. I’m just some person. I’m not your Y/N.”

Peter nods stoically. “And you never have been. Listen, I’m sorry for all this. I should have just let it go.”

It doesn’t matter that he never could. Peter shoves his mask back on his face and heads out. The  night air whips at him, threatening to send him spinning into the multitude of skyscrapers surrounding him on either side, but Peter keeps going. Anything is better than staying still and letting the pain overwhelm him. He really thought he could convince Y/N to remember him, but even his best efforts are worthless.

Peter settles on a tall roof of an office building. He lands in a contained roll but just stays there on the ground, chest heaving, staring up at stars that will never look back on him in quite the same way. He knew the spell was permanent, but he had hoped that somehow he would be able to change Fate’s mind and let this all work out.

Footsteps appear around the corner of the roof. It appears that Peter’s time of self-pity is over. He gets up without looking at the intruder, assuming it to be the owner of the office building. Peter opens his mouth to apologize for trespassing, but the words dry up in his throat when he realizes that it’s Y/N who’s followed him all this way instead.

Their eyes are wide, but their stature is as steady as ever. “I may not be your Y/N,” they repeat, “but I could be. I don’t have your memories, but I have mine. Maybe I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You never have been,” Peter says softly.

He slowly crosses the roof until he’s in front of them. Y/N’s breath is rough in their chest, but they still look at him like Peter is all they’ve ever needed. Peter forgot what that felt like, how it struck him to be this close. It appears time has its way of messing with him as well.

“Before the spell,” Y/N whisper hesitantly, “were you and I– were we just friends, or–”

They can’t manage to complete the sentence. Peter knows enough of their mind to guess at the rest.

“No,” he answers, “just friends. Nothing more.”

“What if I want to change that?” Y/N asks tentatively.

Peter stares at them, then damns the past to the past. It is dead and gone and buried, but the future is as alive as ever. For once, that doesn’t haunt him like it always has.

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @with-inked-solace, @callsign-scully, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @gods-fools-heroes

[one-in-lemillion]

God help me I’m thinking about Shidou Kirisaki again and I just. I love him. I’m gonna post my Reddit rant about what I think his “murder” is, so forgive me if it’s messy:

Shidou had a wife and two sons. Shidou is a triage surgeon, who specifically works in organ transplant. He seems to think his “murder” are multiple murders, more specifically that his victims are the braindead patients who he’d convince their families to pull the plug on, so he could use their otherwise healthy organs on other patients to help them recover.

But I don’t think that’s the case. His victim, depending on the view, is one of two people: his eldest son, or his wife. I’m leaning toward the latter.

But why is his eldest son in contention at all? Well, I have a theory. His first voice drama is called “Molech”, a Canaanite god infamous for his worship involving the sacrifice of children. What I think happened was, he was out one day, grocery shopping, while his wife and sons were out somewhere else driving, where they got into a horrific accident. His youngest son was killed instantly, while his eldest son and wife were left in critical condition.

Shidou, being a respected surgeon, likely tried to use his influence to help his family himself. In the second voice trailers, the corrupted audio says something along the lines of “don’t get in my way, or I’ll kill you.” I suspect he’s saying this to one of his colleagues, who is likely trying to steer him away from getting involved, because it’s generally bad practice for surgeons and doctors to get involved with their own families, as they’re too emotionally close to the situation.

So back to the Molech thing. I think what happens next is Shidou is presented with a choice: he can save either his son, or his wife. They both likely need organs transplanted, and being related, likely are compatible with each other. But their critical condition means that to wait for more donors could mean they both die. So, Shidou chooses to sacrifice his son, to save his wife.

This is supported in the Triage MV, where Shidou is seen handing his eldest son a tag, one that resembles the type seen on the toes of cadavers in the morgues, symbolizing that Shidou sentenced his own son to death. But that’s still not Shidou’s “murder”.

So Shidou’s wife receives her son’s organ, maybe a kidney, or liver, or whatever, we don’t know what. Could be multiple organs. And Shidou’s wife goes through periods of seemingly pulling through, and taking turns for the worse, as seen in Thrown Down by the flower Frankenstein standing up before falling apart again.

His first voice trailer, he says something along the lines of “now I understand what I’ve been robbing people of”. All this time, he’s been convincing families to pull the plug on their own braindead family members. But then it finally came the time for him to make that choice, and it destroyed him. He became suicidal, he came into MILGRAM begging for the death penalty, because he feels he has nothing left.

So Shidou does all this work to keep his wife alive, including sacrifice their own son to make it happen, but in the end, she still died. That is his true murder. The one he feels guiltiest over. He made the ultimate sacrifice, and it still didn’t bear any fruit.

I would like to say, I have a theory that guilt is ultimately what lands you in MILGRAM. It’s why Fuuta’s there and not any of his online friends, for example. So Shidou’s one true “murder” is the one that he feels the most crushing amount of guilt over. Because now not only did he lose both his sons, but also his wife, who he sacrificed one of his sons to try to save. Had she survived, it would have been at least a little worth it, but she died too, making his decision to sacrifice his son weigh even more on his conscience.

It’s also something to take note of that Shidou mentions in Molech how he’s happy Es is a child, because he only trusts a child to judge him. Because he feels as though his own son would judge him, for the choices he made. Shidou despises himself, because he sees himself as responsible for the deaths of 2/3 of his family unit.

[rakubalka]

A Komatsu time travel au

(I know one fic who did something with time travel in this fandom but this here is less angst and more comedy)

Komatsu by some means in some way (probably a Back channel accident) somehow ends up in the past roughly 500 years ago , shortly after Fronze's death to a very very depressed (and suicidal) Midora that needs emotional support that Ichiryu (the only person whit both sanity and emotional intelligence other than Fronze in this family and at the only alive member whit both until he adopts Coco , and only when Coco becomes part of the family will there again be two people (we don't count Komatsu here) whit both sanity and emotional intelligence better than a rock in it again) can't provide at the moment (because of trying to deal with the human government and their bullshit) , Accacia fucking somewhere else whit the Nitro at the moment , Jiro emotional intelligence of a literal rock and Setsuno not being both close enough to Midora to properly offer comfort and also not enough emotional intelligence to be able to handle Midora in his current state .

Komatsu of course being Komatsu (whit fuck ton of emotional intelligence even if somewhat questionable sanity) offers Midora the emotional support he desperately needs along with starting the effort to make sure Midora isn't going constantly on an empty stomach (it's a tough battle he bravely faces every day)

The result of the efforts is that Midora becomes his Combo Partner (and down the line husband as they are a lot closer in age here) and Komatsu becoming Midora's emotional support chef for who he is willing to do for anything for , with Midora's motto being "What Komatsu wants Komatsu gets" and the Gourmet Corp agreeing whit (probably an actual) cult like belief , support and devotion

There are interactions with the rest of the family of course (other than Accacia for obvious reasons)

Komatsu and Ichiryu are gossip buddies and go for tea around once a month , sometimes that miss it but in exchange offer extra juice gossip (Ichiryu knows more about the Gourmet Corp inner drama than most of it's members and Komatsu know more about international politics that almost all of the best information sellers in the world) . Komatsu being the adorable innocent little gremlin he is (you do not expect me to believe that Toriko or Zebra didn't rub on him at least a little) is always more that happy to offer Ichiryu a little nudge by using food on any political rivals or enemy (not by poisoning it of course that would be disrespectful to the food but when you're considered by many , even the most religious of people as the second coming of Fronze The Chef God , you know you cook good)

Him and Jiro more than once stumble into some very strange things and situations while going on walks and hunts together and more than once questioned how they are both still alive after it . The two of them together just seem to make Komatsu's weirdness magnet powers become 100x times stronger for some unexplainable reason . It does however mean that they have some very strange and intesting stories to tell (to which young Teppei will be raised on , his favorite by far being the time they prevented a species of seasoning flamingos from becoming extinct while they were searching for a milk pear as a snack for the wild fresh White Russian and the berry fruit boar they caught, which is what in this timeline inspired him to because part of the gourmet police and help protect and revive ingredients)

Him and Setsuno do become cooking buddies and even have nicknames for each other (he calls her Setsu-chan and she calls him Ko-chan) , until The Cooking Festival comes then they become rivals ready to beat the shit out of each other with poor Zaus , Yuda and Chiyo being in the middle of it while also having their own rivalry going on on the side (it makes the festival way more interesting to watch and even more chaotic when this timeline Komatsu , Brunch , Starjun and Ootake happened whit their rivalry because of the CHAOS the will be raining on it ) [Also I can't decide what relationship between Jiro and Setsuno wound be funnier In this timeline , the options being a) they are secretly married whit Komatsu (or Fronze depending of when) being the officiator and had at least 1 child together who is Teppei's parent or b) they are in a queerplatonic relationship whit each other because they mach each other's vibes so well , because you can't tell me that the girl that was going in animal skin bikini as a fashion choice wouldn't think Jiro's hair might have been cool then and even now as a result they are bff , is probably Jiro's child godmother and Teppei will call her grandma because in his eyes she is his grandma ]

Centuries pass on until it's time for his friend (and himself to be born) and lo and behold Midora finds baby Starjun while he was going on a walk by the ocean . The adoption papers are written immediately with him and Midora as primary guardians with the rest of the family as immediate guardians if he and Midora die . Baby Starjun gets raised in a way better Gourmet Corp and regular playdates with his technically nephew cousin Teppei . Until he is about 10 and having time with Uncle Ichiryu and they and Mansun accidentally discover a everything trafficking traffic ring(like they seriously trafficked everything , you named it they trafficked it) the results of which were 5 new cousins (aka the kings and Rin) . Needless to say Ichiryu got a tongue lashing so strong King Slime thought they were under life or death danger and tried to protect him , which only made the tongue lashing even worse . After Komatsu was satisfied with Ichiryu and allowed him to rest did he see how young Zebra , Sunny and Rin were looking as if he had invented the bread , he knew from that moment on those 3 will make their new father's life miserable by trying to copy Komatsu just like how Star tries to copy Midora . Star and Toriko actually do know they are related as twin brothers , along with telling Toriko whose kids they are . Midora is delighted to be the broody middle sibling , meanwhile Jiro is having a mid(!?!?) life crisis of no longer being the middle sibling but one of the older ones .

He also adopted both this timeline version of himself by posing as a relative along with Ootake , he is also technically Branch other legal guardian so he takes him along rather regularly to the Gourmet Corp HQ(aka Midora's Castle) the result in which being Chaos . It was still somewhat manageable before Grinpach and Tommyrod appeared and became in a very short amount of time Starjun best friends and an even more chaotic influence on him , resulting in the chaos becoming even stronger .

Komatsu despite everything is happy with the life he built here and is ready to cook God when the time is up and welcome Neo on a family dinner with everyone . And to of course let his chaotic friends turned his nephew/niece/children/godchildren/great nephew/younger self/charges on the world and see them spread chaos on it while watching it with his Combo Partner/Husband

[saneijeijei]

Boy and Dragon

William looked out of the carriage window with displeasure, watching as the city streets were replaced by fields and trees. He didn't want to go to another hunting competition, even though it was the opening of the season. All his friends stayed in the capital with their mothers and he was forced to travel with his family to a remote part of the empire.

"Why couldn't I stay at home?" William whined. "Count Grey promised Jacob to go to their summer residence so that they could ride horses together in the valley of eternal flowers. Rick's father promised to buy a continuation of the famous recordings of the knight of the white swords! What about me? I can't even participate in the hunt, because I'm still too young! What should I do there?" "Will, we've talked about this many times," Marianne sighed. "Your father is the emperor's assistant. He must follow him. And we, as members of the Porter family, follow our head. Anyway, when was the last time you attended an event?" "Well, uh… A year ago? All the recent holidays have been for adults only.." "That's exactly why the whole family attends the opening of the hunt." "Hey, father will let you hunt rabbits this year," William's older brother said, nudging him in the side with his elbow. "You can't spend your whole life reading boring books among the same bookworms. You also necessary to see something alive in your life". "Daniel!" "I'm sorry, Mother. I just wanted to cheer him up." "What, are you afraid that you won't catch a deer this time?" Vililam snorted. "What did you say?!" Daniel yelled. "Both of you! If you don't stop immediately, both of you will stay with me at tea parties all the time and won't even stick your nose out into the grounds!"

William Porter was the youngest child of Marianne and Cedric Porter. His mother was the only child of Count Terosi. And his father was the only boy in the family of Count Porter. They met at the birthday celebration of the Crown Prince - the current emperor. As the Countess once told, everything happened because his father was in such a hurry that he accidentally bumped into her and almost knocked her down. Because of the awkward situation, a dialogue began between them and soon they danced together at the ball.

And year later, they got married, despite all those terrible events that shook the tranquility of the capital.

His father married much earlier than his master, which, of course, was bad form and the cause of unflattering rumors about him. But the emperor only jokingly reminded him of this in the presence of Porter's family. William remembered that attentive look of tired red eyes that carefully examined him and his brothers and sisters. The emperor himself never married, rejecting any offers of his vassals to find a bride.

"Why doesn't the Emperor want to get married?" Will one day asked and his father. "Everyone gets married. Is there anything wrong with that?" "Willie, His Majesty has his own reasons for refusing all of them. Once upon a time, he was in love with Duke Eckhart's daughter." "The one that Leila pretended to be in order to take over the empire?" "Yeah. But the duke had another daughter. Not own." "Oh?" boy listened to his father with interest, as if he had learned someone's very terrible and dark secret. "Emperor was madly in love with her and the lady also loved him. But Leila brainwashed His Majesty… And she was gone. When he broke free of the spell and defeated Layla, he searched for the lady day and night, hoping that she was hiding somewhere and waiting for him to come for her. But days, months, years passed. But the lady didn't come back." "Is that why we attended the duke's daughter's wake?" "To my great regret, I am afraid that she is no longer among the living."

"It's probably sad. Hope that the person you love is alive, but realize that he will no longer be around?" William sighed. "If something happened to Mom, you have us. And the emperor has no one. He's very lonely." "Yes." Cedric ruffled his son's hair. "But let's not think about the bad, okay? Your mom will always be there. I'm doing my best to keep you all safe and sound."

The boy nodded, and then thought about it.

"But His Majesty's character is heavy. I wouldn't be able to make friends with him either."

Porter Sr. laughed.

"Why is that?" "He has stupid jokes." "Be lenient with him, okay?" "Like you? You always put up with his unfunny jokes, which he thinks are funny and laughs at them himself." "Hey, I laugh when you tell me jokes that I heard when I was your age? Show a sense of tact to His Majesty."

Since then, Porter's family has become a frequent guest of many state events. A year later, his father got him into an elite academy sponsored by the emperor. The entire elite of the aristocracy studied there.

Mom hoped that William would become a clerical worker or a minister. But Willie dreamed of becoming a knight and serving in the palace, although his parents and older brothers did not share his dream, saying that this was an extremely dangerous and harsh job. But he hoped that he would succeed and…

"We're almost there!" the sister shouted, seeing the residence in the distance.

The Porter family arrived in a small town a week before the hunt. As well as many other close houses to the crown, including the Duchy of Eckhart, the Marquis of Verdandi and many others. Thanks to the efforts of the imperial servants and aristocratic houses, the hunting grounds were to be ready by next Monday.

Brothers, having barely received permission, dragged William with them to train. They put leather armor on him so as not to accidentally harm him and gave out a small simple wooden bow. Daniel and Oliver, taking swords, began to fight among themselves, practicing blows. William, under the careful supervision of a teacher, trained to hold a bow and direct an arrow, which was very difficult and quite unusual.

The training lasted until lunch, until they were interrupted by a sister who called everyone for lunch.

"My mom and I took a walk around the city. And do you know what I heard in the boutique?" "My God, what could our chatty gossip girl have found out besides rumors?" asked the older brother. "Hmm! How rude! By the way, this is not just some kind of rumor, but a real urban legend!" the girl was indignant. "So what's the legend? A ghost? A tragic love story?" William interrupted the exchange. "I heard that a real dragon lives in the mountains. The last living dragon. And sometimes, he cries from loneliness that his howl can be heard from here!" inspired by an interested listener, young Porter enthusiastically told what she heard. "Can you imagine? A real dragon!" "Another urban fairytale to attract tourists, and you fell for it. Dragons haven't existed for a hundred years. Stop talking nonsense." Daniel snorted. "It's true! Ask mom, she'll tell you the same thing as me!"

William thought about it. A real dragon? He read a lot of books telling about the old days, when the whole earth was inhabited by mythical creatures. Including dragons. One of them was the founder of the house Regulus - the golden dragon. But the history of the extinction of this species has sunk into oblivion. Historians have each adhered to their own theory of why dragons did not survive to the present day. And the chance to see a real dragon gave rise to a burning curiosity in Willie.

"Dani, if catch a real dragon at a hunting competition, will it cost like a brown bear or more?" "What? What nonsense is this? Do you think there really is a dragon living in the mountains? Will, it's just city gossip. There are no dragons there, forget it. Besides, father told you that you can try to hunt rabbits. You're not allowed to leave the small beast zone, remember?"

William looked away in frustration. "What if I catch a whole dragon? Still?"

Daniel rolled his eyes.

All week, William has been training hard. He wanted to prove to everyone that he could catch something bigger than a rabbit and maybe it would be a dragon. And so. The long-awaited opening of hunting competitions. All the guests, ambassadors and diplomats gathered together to listen to the speech. The Emperor, as always, says parting words and wishes everyone a successful hunt. William grabs his bow and arrows and goes to the lands of small animals, overtaking his brothers. The teacher swears and asks not to hurry, because without him, he can't go there, but William jumps on the spot, asking to get ready as soon as possible.

Teacher just grumbles and slowly gathers. Seeing the younger brother's excitement, Daniel and Oliver offer that they will look after him while the teacher is getting ready. To which the man agrees and William, along with his brothers, goes into the forest.

But because of the banter and unsuccessful hits, William takes offense and deliberately shoots an arrow far, far into the forest. The brothers say to go and pick her up, which the boy took advantage of.

After finding the arrow, he did not return, but decided to go deeper into the forest to look for a bigger target. For example, a fox. After walking a few tens of meters, and hearing the screams of the brothers, William went deeper and, not noticing the root, stumbled.

Suddenly, a strange sound followed, low and very loud.

"Richard, I hope you didn't hit the Baron!" "Not he's on our right." “What? Then what was that sound?" "Maybe it's a white tiger that was brought by the ambassador from that small kingdom in the south?"

William fell silent in the bushes until he heard footsteps receding.

Trying to get up, his foot caught on something. “what? Scales?" Willie picked up strange pieces of golden scales from the floor and it was clearly smeared with something. "Where did the scales come from?"

After looking around, William decided to go a little further forward, when suddenly a noise was heard behind him. He barely had time to turn around when something heavy pushed him back to the ground and covered him with hot breath.

It was a dragon.

The idea came to my mind after re-reading several Kuro fanfics(@kuroneko1815). I decided to reread all the finished fanfiction and it just so happened that it was Kuro's fanfiction that went in order. And when I wanted to go to bed, the idea came to me: "What if?". Well, here you see the result of this "if".

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober Day 13: Decipher This

Rating: T Prompt: Vanderwood/MC || Secret WordCount: 1263 Summary: The new member of the RFA seems familiar somehow. Author's Notes: This fic is either a massive troll or a Chapter 1, so... let me know if you want to see more of this one.

Of all the jobs that Vanderwood had done for the Agency over the years, they had to admit they were happiest being Zero Seven’s handler.  It wasn’t the most glamorous job, wasn’t necessarily using their best skills most of the time, but it also kept them decently out of danger, and afforded them the luxury of breaking rules they thought were garbage.

They hadn’t really thought too hard about the Agency’s rules about interpersonal relationships.  On the surface it made perfect sense that attachments were forbidden, given that if a job went bad you might have to completely erase yourself and start new somewhere else entirely leaving them behind. But it could also mean that they were used against you.  Of course, Vanderwood knew that the people most likely to use a partner against them were the Agency themselves, but it still stood as a good enough reason, until they started being Zero Seven’s handler.

Zero Seven was an enigma.  They’d started being his handler a little over eight years ago, when he was just a bright kid who would do just about anything the agency asked him to do.  Study abroad? Great!  Track down this person with the explicit explanation that it was for them to be take out? Done.  Over time, in private he had mellowed the way most of the agency techs had.  He did his work on his own schedule, and very rarely did he need to be reminded to get things done before the deadline. Usually he only got behind if it had something to do with that charity group he was for some unknown reason allowed to stay a part of even after joining the agency. Around them, he was still the jokester kid that he’d been when just twelve.  Vanderwood wished the melancholy hacker was the fake version of Zero Seven… but they knew better.

Vanderwood knew that if someone were disappeared for any reason, Zero Seven could find them, alive if possible, but he’d find proof of death if not. And so, the rules from the agency about attachments were revealed to be what they truly were - yet another way to keep a choke-hold on their agents. As long as the ties were sanctioned by the Agency (like that charity group) or kept secret from them, they were safe.

Most of the time, the only potential tie Vanderwood cared about was their charge.  They thought about Zero Seven like the younger brother they’d always wanted.  They knew no family before the agency, but… they liked to think they had a tiny one, now.  Zero Seven seemed to care about the charity group, and occasionally he’d wonder aloud (usually when he thought Vanderwood couldn’t hear him) about how ‘Saeran’ was doing.  So of course Vanderwood noticed when he received the improbable floppy disc of photos of a less-trained version of himself - clearly a twin brother - that Vanderwood understood.  Zero Seven had sacrificed his relationship with his twin in order to keep said twin safe and happy.  They’d taken a private look at the disc, and no matter how they looked at it, all of those photos were taken on the same day.  The boy was wearing contact lenses and his hair had recently been dyed. If it wasn’t for the fact that Zero Seven needed glasses, they might not have thought to look for the contacts - but they were colored. The boy in the photo had green eyes, and there were telltale marks from hair dye along his hairline and the tips of his ears.  How had Zero Seven missed this? Wishful thinking?

Something had happened to his twin, and Vanderwood was determined to find out what it was, even if they had to enlist help to do it.  Clearly the agency was complicit - the disk of photos had come from one of the charity group. They would have to look outside the agency for help.  They’d crossed paths with people from other agencies as well as independents, a number of whom could probably find out the information that they wanted to know. The best choice was the agent hiding in plain sight as an investigative journalist; Cypher Jones. If anyone could figure this out, it would be her.

Seven knew that Vanderwood was hiding something. Every agent had secrets, but lately they would come back agitated about something and an agitated Vanderwood never did bode well for his ability to slack off. Really any emotion out of Vanderwood was a bad sign.  So at least his work was getting done in a timely manner, since he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Vanderwood’s ire.

On the bright side, they hadn’t gotten on his case about being in the RFA chat so much, so he’d been able to spend more time with his friends.  He really did think of them as friends, even though he wasn’t supposed to get attached to people as per the agency rules.  But if Vanderwood wasn’t complaining even after all these years, well, he was going to run with it.

But that led him to today, when he was out of work to get done and everyone was in chat, which was awesome, but Vanderwood came in tense.

“What is it, Vandy?”

“Don’t call me that. It’s just that I lost contact with someone.”

“I can—“

“No.”

“But if it’s someone important—”

“You can’t.”

“Ugh, fine.”

It wasn’t another agent. There was no way, or they would have used everything at their disposal agency-wise to keep track of them.  Which meant. Vanderwood was hiding a friend.  Seven wanted to tease them to death, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.  Having confirmation that Vanderwood was hiding an illicit relationship (be it romantic or platonic, it didn’t matter to Seven) was everything. But the fact that they’d lost contact took it off the table as a teasing subject. He’d just have to try to get Vanderwood to talk to him about it later.  For the time being they’d settled on the couch in his office, and were tapping away at their phone.  Seven went back to the RFA chat, only to realize there was someone new in it.  Someone unauthorized.

“Holy shit.” He said, pulling up the app code and tapping away to dig into the user database and figure out where they came from.

“What, Zero Seven?” Vanderwood asked from the couch, and Seven knew they were probably expecting his usual silliness.

“There’s someone new in the RFA Chat.”

“Huh.” Vanderwood said. “New recruit?”

“Well that’s just the thing. No. I think they hacked in.”

His fingers were flying over the keys, and he even told the chat that his fingers were trembling as he hacked.  Not true, but they were going fast enough that no one could tell if he was lying, excepting maybe Vanderwood, who saw everything.

Vanderwood had perked up behind him, watching his screens, which was eerie, but he was pretty used to it. 

“Huh, she’s in Rika’s old apartment.” Seven said, even as Vanderwood stood and came over to… well, he’d normally have said inspect his work, but it seemed like Vanderwood was just standing there for moral support. Weird, but not unwanted.

Seven clicked a few times and brought the camera feeds from Rika’s apartment up onto one of his side monitors. There, standing looking down at her cell phone with her long brown hair half-obscuring her confused expression, was a girl.

“What?!” Behind him, Vanderwood seemed to choke on nothing and their phone clattered to the floor. 

“What is Cypher doing there?”

[unreliablesnake]

Wounded animals

Pairing(s): It's supposed to be a Joel Miller x reader piece, but Tommy took control when I wrote it so it might be a Tommy Miller x reader story. Idk.

Note: This is like a pilot chapter. I'm more of a short chapters kind of girl because–to quote Neil Ellice–I have the attention span of a bag of squirrels.

Warning: afab!reader

It had been a very long shift so far and you still didn't see the end of it. Since the night seemed to be relatively quiet, you lied down on the bottom bunk bed in the on-call room, hoping you could catch some sleep.

You had no idea how much time had passed, but you were woken up by someone coming in and talking to you, saying words you couldn't quite understand just yet. Your eyes slowly opened and you found a man standing there, suddenly falling silent as he watched you.

"I can't believe it," he muttered under his breath as he walked inside and closed the door behind him. "It's really you."

He knew you, he was familiar, but the pieces of the puzzle simply didn't click in your head after spending so much time awake. But then you noticed a scar on his forearm, right below his elbow, that jump-started your memory. "Tommy!" you squealed as you stood up and rushed over to hug him.

His arms sneaked around your waist as he embraced you, keeping you in a bear hug you couldn't escape from. "We thought no one got out of the hospital alive, we thought you died," he said, chin resting on top of your head.

With a quiet chuckle, you leaned back a little to look up at him. "The military came in and took every staff member somewhere safe. They put us in quarantine to see if we were infected, but once we were proven to be clear, they took us to different clinics to help whoever got injured in that mess," you explained.

"I'm so happy to see you," he said, murmuring into your hair before reluctantly letting you go as he stepped away from you.

"What about Joel and Sarah? Do you know anything about them?"

"Sarah was killed by a soldier right at the start, we couldn't save her," he began to tell you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs. "Joel… Something broke in him that night, he's… not the same."

Not the same. Tommy's words echoed in your mind, making you wonder what had happened to him. Losing his daughter and finding himself in a strange new world probably had its toll on him, but at the same time his younger brother seemed perfectly fine. How bad could that be?

"Is he here in the QZ?" you asked quietly.

Tommy nodded. "He's right here, on this floor. I came in here because he finally woke up and it would be great if someone could take a look at him. The doctor who helped him went home apparently," he told you with a smile.

You sat down next to him, your eyes fixed on the door as you thought about this. Twelve years. It had been twelve years since the world went crazy. Since you had to leave everything behind. Since you were separated from Joel. Since you last felt love.

Now? Now you weren't sure you could look Joel in the eye. Your heart had been empty lately. It was much easier to deal with your job in this new world if you didn't have any feelings for others. No friends. No lovers. No family. Nothing. You were just an empty shell compared to your old self.

Suddenly you felt Tommy take your hand in his, fingers absentmindedly tangling with yours as he watched you. Tilting your head to the side, you gave him a questioning look. Something was wrong, you could feel it, but you also didn't want to force him to tell you what bothered him.

Then he stood up and pulled you up with him, his hand not letting go of yours, even when you left the room. As he led you to the room Joel was in, you wondered what you should say to him. What do you say to your ex-finacé you hadn't seen in over a decade?

"It's gonna be alright," Tommy told you when he stopped in front of a door. You gave him a doubtful look, and he leaned down to kiss the top of your head in return. "Just don't expect the old Joel, okay?" You nodded obediently. "Good. Let's go."

Your heart was beating in your throat, the world around you slowing down as he opened the door and stepped inside. You followed him like a lapdog, your eyes fixed on your shoes as you walked. It was hard to look up, to look at Joel again after all those years.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," you heard Joel say bitterly.

That's when you finally looked up, facing the man with a sad look in your eyes. He didn't sound like the old Joel. Your Joel. This man was a stranger, with no softness in his brown eyes.

"I found her sleeping in a room," Tommy said with a short laugh, probably to lighten the mood. "After all these years it turns out she survived."

"I heard what happened to Sarah. I'm so–"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Joel growled like a rabid dog.

You took a step back at the same time you felt Tommy's hand on the small of your back. When you looked up at him, he only shook his head with a sad smile. Don't ask, don't object, just stay calm. You could certainly do that.

With a sigh, you finally pulled yourself together and walked closer to the bed. "Can I take a look at your wound?" you asked cautiously. You were a doctor, it was your job to help him.

But Joel had a different idea. "I want another doctor," he snarled.

This took you off guard, and you soon felt Tommy put a hand on your waist to pull you behind him. "Joel, calm down, she just wants to help. She's a doctor in case you forgot, and you're a patient. Let her help," he tried.

"Get out. Both of you."

He didn't have to say twice, you shook your head and turned around to leave the room as he asked. Once outside, you leaned your back against the wall and started to cry silently, his words replaying in your head over and over again, each time hurting you more than before. Tommy had been right, this wasn't the Joel you knew so well.

"Hey, hey, don't cry, it's not worth the tears," Tommy said when he showed up in front of you, raising his hand to wipe your tears away. "He's been like that for a long time, don't take it personally. I think you remind him of his old life, of Sarah, and it's too much for him. Also, he's like a wounded animal now, attacking anyone who goes near him."

You didn't object when he pulled you into a hug, his hand rubbing along your spine to soothe you. Soon you stopped crying, your brain focusing on him instead, listening to the mixture of the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his heart pounded against his chest.

Maybe this was for the better. If he really had changed this much over the years, it would probably be for the best if you didn't talk to him. He was in the past, it would be better to keep nothing more but the good memories.

Your hands instinctively moved to your necklace and the ring you had on it. He gave you this engagement ring before the military took you away, and you weren't about to let it go until now. But today you realized the Joel you remembered was nothing more but a ghost that kept haunting you.

So you took it off and placed it into Tommy's hand. "Could you give it back to him?" you asked.

He took a look at the piece of jewelry and you saw a glint in his eyes that you didn't really understand at the time. But he eventually flashed a smile at you and nodded. "Sure. When will your shift end?"

You let out a long sigh as you thought about whether or not you wanted to think about hanging out with him. Because that's what he wanted to ask, you could feel it. In the end you looked at your watch and let out a thoughtful hum.

"I still have five and a half hours left, and then I'm gonna hit the bed at home," you replied.

Tommy suddenly leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. "Okay, sleep is important, especially in your line of work," he began. "I know where to find you now, so we'll talk some other time then."

Apparently he wasn't about to give up so you gave in. After nodding, you said goodbye and left to return to the on-call room, hopefully catching some sleep.

Not like you could sleep with Joel on your mind.

••••••

Taglist (although I won't do this in the future - hit the get notifications button and you'll know when I post something): @kyuupidwrites

[envihellbender]

yandere dbd killers of your choice headcanons

The Legion

Legion do not have relationships outside of each other, not platonic or romantic. After a while they even push away their own family, although those relationships are so broken that there isn’t anything worth saving. Whilst Frank and Jules are the two in a romantic relationship, they all actually have a connection that is far stronger than anything platonic or romantic. Susie has had sex with Jules, and Frank with Joe. They regularly kiss and cuddle each other, hold each other’s hands and the like. They even sleep in the same bed, all curled up together like kittens, when sleeping at the ski lodge.

The four of them have a black cord necklace each, in that necklace there are two pendants. One of them is a heart split into four, similar to one of those best friends necklaces but divided between all of them instead. The other is a small glass vial, it’s spherical and inside it is a mixture of all four of their blood. So no matter where they are, each of them has a small amount of the other members of Legion. They are always together, their life source is always mixed. They can’t be split up, not ever.

Whenever they are split up they begin to feel physical and psychological agony, all four of them say that they feel as if one of their limbs has been ripped from their body. Susie howls as she cries, yelling and screaming. She hyperventilates and if she’s able she eats until she vomits. Frank lashes out at everything and everyone around him, he kicks, throws, bites, and punches. He yells and shouts until someone reunites Legion. Joe turns his aggression and upset inward, he becomes so quiet he is almost completely nonverbal. He picks at his skin until it bleed. Jules chewed on her nails until they were ripped from her hands but she was always ended up being more proactive in her upset. She was always the one dragging Legion back together.

The Pig

Amanda is so romantic! Such a sweetheart. That’s why she has your home filled with security cameras, for your safety. She cares so much, she’s also going to give your family and friends the same deal. It’s okay you don’t have to make them agree, she can do it discreetly so no one knows but everyone is safe. Don’t think too much about it, I mean, sure she may just show up somewhere unannounced that you never told her you were just nipping into for a few minutes. You probably did tell her though, you’re always so forgetful!

She takes your kink a little far, sure but maybe she’s just such a good actress. I mean, how hot was it when you were tied down on the gurney she uses for her victims and she was talking about the microchip she was injecting into you. I mean, obviously it’s fake. And the fact that you can’t take off that collar that’s a little thicker than you’d expect and sometimes gives you a small static shock when you act in ways she doesn’t like… It’s a coincidence, of course it is.

You know, things would be so much easier if you just let her take care of you. Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to make any decisions any more? If she got to choose what you are, how you dressed, who you saw, if she was in charge of what chores you did, if you only did what she asked like make her dinner and you both helped each other bathe… It would help keep the romance alive. Plus, you were never very good at doing that stuff on your own, were you?

The Trickster

Ji-Woon loved every single one of his fans, in the same way a god loved the beings who worshiped them. In full knowledge of their inferiority, but also prone to smiting those who dare to not be faithful to him. That is how he saw the relationship between himself and his fans, they would worship him and put him before themselves. For they were his, he owned them. Whenever he asked for them to prove it, well, failing his test of loyalty would be deadly. For even if he didn’t care for any of them, they were still his, and he didn’t share.

It was not uncommon for Ji-Woon to have favourites, perhaps he’d pick up a beautiful young man - one of the many who waited outside his stage door just for a chance to briefly see their star. This young man would become Ji-Woon’s boy, his pet. He’d be constantly kept next to him, he’d be on a beautifully custom made silver collar and lead. If Ji-Woon was angry with him for whatever reason one of his staff held the lead instead. Reasons he’d be angry included not being sufficiently delighted to see him or daring to look at a person who was not Ji-Woon.

All Ji-Woon’s pets followed a strict diet - it changed depending on his whims for that particular toy. Some he’d wish to keep lithe, some he’d want to gain weight, it all depended on what he desired and it was their job to deliver it to him. Ji-Woon chose what clothes they were, and even who they were allowed to speak to. They weren’t allowed to touch or be touched by anyone but Ji-Woon, and of course their god did not serve them but they served him. He would never lower himself to fuck his pets, simply have them lap at his cunt and his asshole, if he desired it he may ride their cock, or ride a strap on which they were laid beneath him. They were an object, nothing more, but they were his.

The Ghost Face

Jed Olsen wanting to report on Ji-Woon, the K-Pop sensation who was actually coming to Florida to everyone’s delight, was extremely out of character. He enjoyed reporting on crimes, the more gruesome the better, not the sort of thing that belonged in gossip rags. For some reason, alongside the discussions of the Ghost Face murders he was talking about Ji-Woon’s latest sold out tour? In fact he did so so intensely he ended up with something of a teen girl following.

Somehow Jed had gained a great deal of knowledge about Ji-Woon. Of course he used his technological prowess and investigative skills to discover anything about him from his past. Such as his birth name and his identity in his home town. He also set up a Grindr profile to communicate with him whenever he was local, by doing so he was inside. He was on his phone, and thus in his pocket. It didn’t take long to see what they both had in common.

Of course Ji-Woon would never willingly enter a relationship with Jed Olsen, so he did the following things: track his movements through his mobile phone, ensure whenever he step foot in the United States he was being tailed and Jed had constant updates, and eventually when Ji-Woon went back to his home country, a grant to report on the organised crime in Seoul meant he had an excuse to tighten his grip. It wouldn’t be long until Ji-Woon was devoting himself to Jed, he could feel it.

The Shape

Whenever Michael felt any form of sexual or romantic attraction his initial response was panic. He needed to stab the object of his affection repeatedly, to make them stop moving and to cause as much blood to appear as possible. It was the only way he could deal with his feelings, so of course when the Entity took him these thoughts did not change. He simply had a new avenue to exercise his needs, he had survivors who were occasionally so beautiful to him he had to torment and destroy them. That is how he felt when he first laid eyes upon Felix Richter. He felt this strong, obsessive, possessive claim to him, and it made him want to rip his body to pieces.

Michael wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Felix that enraptured him, but every single trial he found his anxiety and pain resurfacing. He wasn’t dead, not truly. The Entity was bringing him back again and again and again, despite what pain it cause Michael. So he had to kill Felix repeatedly, getting more brutal and sadistic each time, in an attempt to deal with what Felix was putting him through.

It was Frank who told him Felix and David were in a relationship, and despite Michael’s hatred of Felix that made him even angrier. He was his. He didn’t belong to anyone else, especially not some pathetic little nobody who would kiss, suck, bite, and fuck Felix. No one could possibly be touching or having sex with him, no Felix was pure and he couldn’t be corrupted in that way. The idea that he wasn’t simply existing to be purified by Michael made him want to claw his skin off. David didn’t deserve to be stabbed by him, to have Michael on top of him draining the life out of him, but he never felt angrier than when he pictured David trying to take Felix away from him.

[turtlethebean]

Rarepair Week Day 3: Letters

Note: Spoilers ahead for season 3.

AO3 Link: Waiting for your Letter - Turtle_The_Bean - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Another day, another empty letterbox.

Rupert checked his calendar. He wasn’t used to waiting this long for a letter. At this point, it had been several weeks since he sent his last letter. He knew it wasn’t an issue with the postal service; his colleagues had been receiving letters from friends and family abroad with no problem. He would usually pass it off as his boyfriend being busy, but that seemed unlikely at this point. He hadn’t taken this long to write before, and it wasn’t like the Bureau had too much work for him. Rupert had even seen his colleagues on the news, though Armand was nowhere to be seen in the photos and videos.

He closed the letterbox and was about to head up to his apartment when a familiar hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Yo, Rupert,” Amir Devani, Rupert’s apprentice, smiled at the older man as he turned around, “One of David and Alex’s old coworkers is here. She used to work for the Bureau; isn’t that awesome? You should join us.”

Once Rupert heard the Bureau being mentioned, he instantly agreed to meet her. He needed answers as to why Armand wasn’t answering his letters. There was no guarantee she would know anything about what was going on with him, but it was worth a shot.

---

The majority of the Grimsborough Police Department was crowded around Grace, asking her a flurry of questions regarding her work at the Bureau. If Rupert wanted to get closer to her, he knew he would have to wait.

However, his patience was growing thin. He needed to know what was going on with Armand. He needed to know if he was still alive or even just busy with work or travel. He silently begged for an opening, a way for him to get close enough to ask her some questions.

“GRACE!” Amir called out, “I GOT A FRIEND HERE WHO WANTS TO MEET YOU!”

Grace got off her seat and walked over to Rupert. He started mentally preparing himself to ask her the question. He just needed a few words. He couldn’t mess this up.

“I hoped you’d be back, Amir.” Grace smiled warmly at the lab assistant.

“Yeah, I just need to get old Rupert here out of his apartment.” Amir nudged his mentor playfully.

“Good afternoon, Miss Delaney,” Rupert extended a hand to shake, “I’d like to ask you a question about a person who works at the Bureau if you don’t mind.”

It was a bit wordier than he had intended, but at least he had gotten his point across.

“Oh, well, out of what I know, I’m the only one from Grimsborough. There was a member from England, but I doubt you’d have any interest in a teenager.” Grace explained, trying to figure out who he was talking about on her own.

“He’s not from England. He’s Swiss, actually. His name is Armand Dupont. Would you happen to know how he’s doing right now? Even where he is at the moment?”

“Armand Dupont…” Grace’s face fell upon hearing the name, “Rupert, I am so sorry.”

Don’t.

“It may be best for us to talk about this in private.”

“No, it’s alright.” Please, don’t say it.

“Alright, if you say so…”

Please, it can’t be.

“I’m sorry, Rupert, but Dupont…Armand…passed away.”

No.

“He was shot in the chest during a confrontation with a criminal. They managed to remove the bullet, but his body couldn’t take the surgery.”

No.

“He died the same night we accepted the Nobel Peace Prize. I wish he could’ve been there with us, but…”

No. No! NO!

“Thank you for the information, Miss Delaney,” Rupert said, brushing past everyone else as he left the room.

Once he left the room, Rupert felt as though the floodgates were about to burst. He rushed himself somewhere private, his laboratory and closed the door before collapsing to the ground. Tears started flooding down his face as he curled up in a ball on the floor.

He couldn’t believe this. It couldn’t be true. His love couldn’t be dead.

Was it wrong that he didn’t want to believe that anything was real anymore?

---

How long had he been on this floor?

Rupert didn’t know how long he had been crying on the floor. For all he knew, it could be anywhere between five minutes and five hours. He couldn’t get up. His legs felt like jelly anytime he tried. Even using the table didn’t help. He just kept falling back down to the floor. It was as though he was trying to climb his way out of a hole, but he kept sliding back down to the bottom.

He still couldn’t believe the news. He still didn’t want to believe the news.

Did he have any choice?

A knock at the laboratory door. He didn’t have the strength to open it himself.

“Come in.” He called out, not bothering to try to get up again.

The creak of the door and then the clicking of heels filled the room as Grace approached him.

“Sorry to bother you.” She began, her face solemn.

“It’s fine; I’ve just been sitting on the floor for…I’ll be honest, I have no clue how long it’s been now.” He sighed, burying his head in his hands.

“I just thought I’d find you to give you this.”

Rupert looked up to see that Grace was handing him a folded-up piece of paper. He took it from her, unsure if he should unfold it.

“I found it when we were clearing out Dupont’s library. I thought the address seemed familiar, so I decided to keep it on me in case. It seemed important.”

“Thank you, Miss Delaney,” Rupert gave her a weak smile, “I mean it. Thank you.”

“Of course. Feel free to call me if you need anything else.”

Rupert nodded as he watched her leave his laboratory. He finally mustered up the strength to pull himself up onto one of the chairs in his lab. He got up, turned on one of the table lamps and took a deep breath before unfolding the letter.

My dearest Rupert,

I’m writing to inform you that I have received your last letter. However, there is more I wish to tell you.

I miss you. I have this horrible feeling that I may never see you again, but given that we will be in America sometime soon, I hope to have the opportunity to see you again. I miss sitting next to you as we read books and occasionally told each other about our interests.

Even if we never meet again, I hope that you know that I love you.

The letter ended there. Incomplete, but even just seeing the handwriting again made Rupert tear up.

He had been so afraid – afraid that Armand had fallen out of love with him, afraid that he had become too busy for him, afraid that losing his love was going to be the same as him losing his life.

In actuality, his love was alive. Sure, he had physically passed away, but his spirit lived on in this letter.

A letter he would cherish for the rest of his life.

[escapetothelake]

vanderboom relationship headcanons

focus characters: albert, rose, frank, and leonard

warnings: a little swearing, angst, death, abusive tendencies, albert

quick timeline dump: leonard was probably between 2 and 4 years old in 1895 (when his parents married), marking his birth between 1891 and 1893. this made him between 11 and 13 when his parents died in 1904. when rose was born in 1909, he was between 16 and 18, and when he went off to war in 1914, she was 5, ad he was between 21 and 23. frank was born in 1885, meaning that he was 11 when his mother died in 1896. he was freed in 1924 when he was 39, rose was 15, and leonard was between 31 and 33. all of this is canon.

anyway, after the deaths of his family members, albert absolutely PURGED the vanderboom home of any evidence of its old inhabitants. he locked away emma's paintings, got rid of toys, and boarded up entire rooms. much of the deceased vanderbooms' belongings were either destroyed, or left collecting dust in one of the many locked rooms of the home. albert kept the house very heavily restricted, and it was very hard for anyone residing in the house (leonard and rose) to end up somewhere he didn't want them to be.

i don't see a lot of people talking about this, but albert raised leonard for ten years, and there's no evidence that they had any sort of close connection. however, albert kept him alive, and he didn't seem to harm him directly, so there's that. my headcanon is that he used leonard as something of an errand boy/servant, using him to help build the machine that would bring rose into the world, all the while keeping him in the dark about everything.

leonard could have been a very good influence on rose. he was always a really cheerful child, fond of music and stories, and he would have imparted that onto her. he lost some of his cheerfulness after the deaths of his parents, but he was still kindhearted and passionate. however, albert did not like leonard and rose spending time together, and he quickly became jealous of any affection his young daughter showed toward his nephew. eventually, albert's jealousy became too intense, and he made excuses to keep leonard away from rose (chores, etc). as such, the two children spent very little time together.

however, leonard left his mark here and there. he made some paper flowers for rose when she was little, which ended up decorating her room later. when he wasn't busy helping albert somehow and he had a moment to himself, he would sneak out to the woods behind the house (where he'd hidden the family record player and some records before albert cleared the house out) and dance his heart out to the songs he used to listen to with his parents. rose would later find the record player and keep it.

rose was only five years old when leonard left for the war. it wasn't hard for her to forget him and supress most of the memories she had of him because of how young she was, and albert was quick to hide most of the evidence that he had existed.

i think i should take a moment to further specify just how sheltered rose was. canonically, we see no friends or family (other than her father) in her life until much, much later. i believe that albert was an extremely loving father towards rose (see this post + he calls her birth "the greatest achievement of [his] life" in TPW), but he was definitely an unhealthy parent, and i believe he tried to "protect" her in his own way—by keeping her away from the ignorant and cruel outside world. hell, when leonard was younger, he was allowed to go to the city and play with the local boys and stay with them, but he was absolutely forbidden from even sharing any of that with rose. her father didn’t want him “tainting” her mind with stories of the outside world.

side note, the isolated nature of the vanderboom home makes me wonder if rose ever even saw any sort of settlement or city before she was an adult. i imagine that one would have to row across the lake to pick up food/groceries/other necessities, making me think that albert would make a monthly trip and return with a bunch of goods. this will be important later.

regardless of all of this, albert and rose were very close. she acted as his assistant for much of their time together, and he cherished the presence of the first person who truly seemed to unconditionally love and understand him. he would often give her animal bone/tooth carvings, some of his sketches to decorate her room with, and taxidermy butterflies in boxes (yes, i will do more hcs of these two. lmk if you want me to tag you in my hc posts).

anyway, according to the game, leonard returned home in 1918?? so i guess i have to work around that. leonard came home heavily drugged on painkillers, and albert fixed him up. he spent much time in isolation in a small room downstairs, recovering from his lost leg and the visions he had. these visions triggered a mental breakdown within him, and left him reevaluating much of his life. leonard (now between 25 and 27 years old) asked about rose, and albert made it very clear that he was not to go anywhere near her. realizing that the situation was hopeless and wanting to be as far away from that awful place as possible, leonard packed up and moved to the city. rose had no idea that he was even alive at this point, and she wouldn't find out until much later.

when she turned ten, weird things started happening to rose. she would feel a presence when there wasn't one, and she started to beome even more curious. one day, when albert left to get goods from wherever, she explored.. and found the ouija board and william's spirit, who tasked her with his project.

sometimes rose would try to use the ouija board to communicate with the spirits in her family, but william was always there and would overpower the rest, telling her to find the timepieces or sacrifices. sometimes he’d give her something like “BRAIN”, but she wouldn't know what to do with that. one time, she took the brain of a cadaver her father had and brought it to the ouija board, but william would not accept it.

one day in 1924 when rose was 15, albert left again to get things for the home, which needed some repairs. during this time, she found frank, who was 39, very malnourished, and mute due to the impact of his fall. rose had no clue who he was at first, but curiosity won her over (this was the first person other than her father that she could truly remember), and she took him inside to fix up. frank healed quickly as a result of drinking the immortal dog’s urine (lol), and when rose found some paper for him to write to her on, he explained who he was and what happened.

frank was incredibly knowledge-hungry and intelligent, and he started reading and poking around while rose contemplated all that she had just learned. she was more intrigued than particularly sympathetic to frank's plight, and due to her fascination with this new person in her life, she agreed to help him hide from her father.

this worked for a while. throughout his time in hiding, frank and rose learned sign language. they grew pretty close, bonded by their uniqueness and their fucked up family. however, when rose was around 16 years old, frank saw an opportunity, snuck out of his hiding place, and killed albert.

some complications began here. rose understood why frank did it, and she knew her father deserved it, but she did not exactly condone it. she didn’t stop frank, though. this would obviously put a subconscious rift between the cousins—rose was still young when the man she freed and helped to get back on his feet killed the most important person in her life, so any resentment there is understandable. she didn't hate him, but things were tense. frank appreciated her help and felt a little bad, but he'd do it all again.

rose watched in silence as frank dug a grave for albert in the family cemetary and buried him there. then, the cousins wrote to leonard, who they discovered was still around, and asked him to come. reluctantly, he did, and he was pleased to hear that albert was dead. he found that this was an opportunity to rebuild the vanderboom family and find answers.

frank remembered leonard better than leonard did frank (as he was older), but everything before frank’s fall was a bit cloudy. therefore, virtually their only connection other than blood was through rose and a mutual hatred of albert. still, this was a strong enough foundation for them. leonard did not know sign language, so frank began carrying around a chalkboard to write on while he learned, and rose would occasionally interpret as well.

oof, i don't envy leonard and rose. when they were young, they were the only children around, so they each saw the other as the sibling they never had. but as adults, they discovered they actually were (half) siblings. it's surreal. rose reminded leonard of his mother, but he still felt some uneasiness about her origins. he knew it wasn't her fault, but he couldn't really help it. he instead tried to redirect that anger towards albert, the man who orphaned and then raised him while having the audacity to lie to him the whole time.

leonard went out to the forest to see if his old record player was there. it was, and he and frank brought it inside. rose told him that she found it, and he explained that he had left it out there to keep it safe from albert. they turned it on, and for the first time in decades, the vanderboom home was filled with music.

leonard loved dancing as a boy. however, it frustrated him that he couldn't move as easily as he used to be able to because lost his leg. he was a more bitter man with his injury and the knowledge of albert’s crimes, and rose trying to help him dance initially angered him. however, when he calmed himself down, he decided to give it a try. she had to support him a lot, and they tripped several times, but eventually they managed a steady sway. he was grateful, and he began to improve both on his own and with rose over time. getting back one of his passions helped him heal and made him a much happier man.

frank saw rose and leonard’s connection through dancing, and he got it in his head to offer her a dance as an olive branch. it was kind of her and leonard’s thing, but she agreed. eventually, it became something they could all share together. soon, many nights were spent dancing, listening to leonard's stories of the outside world, and laughing to the dramatic sign language jokes frank did to make his cousins laugh. the vanderbooms were no ordinary family, not anymore (and perhaps not ever), but at least they were a family again in the first place.

[mistletouchunderthetree]

there’s something i’ve talked about here before at length but it’s been a long time so just to catch up any newer followers to speed:

(if you know about sara, you can skip to the bolded small paragraph and go from there) (if you don’t know who sara is but want to be in on the post without reading the essay i wrote, there’s a tl;dr at the bottom!)

in college i moved away from home and moved in with my brother, who lived about 45 minutes from my university. my parents knew my anxiety over making friends so they gave me an ultimatum: either you join a club and BE ACTIVE IN IT, or you come back home. so. i joined a sorority.

BEFORE YOU SHIT A BRICK, my school had a very small greek presence. if you rush, you get into one no matter what (not sending girls home crying bc none of the 10 houses on campus wanted them).

i met sara during rush week, first day. zeta was my last house of the day and i was feeling discouraged - no where had felt like somewhere i’d fit in. and then this girl with this bright and colorful tattoo of a cactus on her arm brought me into the house and we talked about mexican food and harry potter (year 2015 ok) and anime. i talked to a few other girls in that house, more of the same. connections. shared interests. god i wanted them to pick me.

fast forward a week and there i was, a new member of zeta “dating” girls from the pledge class above mine to find my big sister, who is your mentor and your best friend and your confidant and your guide all rolled into one.

i’m too tired to go through it all but basically i requested a date with sara bc we weren’t set up for one and we met at a coffee house and talked for hours. best date by far.

and then big/little reveal…. this is us the moment i found out she was my big sister (it’s her face you can see, and the back of my head):

god that picture makes me want to burst. so we got five wonderful months attached at the hip. i can’t talk about it too much because all these years later it still hurts so much. but i called her my “denton best friend” since i already technically had a “best friend” at home. we signed a lease to live together the next school year on december 29th.

on new year’s eve a stranger in his car with his friends pulled up beside sara’s car. she was designated driver and had 3 passengers. i was supposed to be there but i canceled at the last minute and felt awful about it. in the time it takes for a light to turn green, a boy in sara’s backseat and the guys in the other car had a verbal altercation that ended with the driver of the other car shooting twice at the boy in sara’s backseat. unfortunately this happened as sara was driving away.

the first bullet hit the back door and ricocheted down. the second went directly in front of the boy in the backseat and hit sara in the back of the head. she was brain dead instantly, but a donor so they kept her alive.

i remember holding her hand at the hospital. it was swollen and i kept thinking if i didn’t recognize her black chipped nail polish i wouldn’t even know it was her. the bullet exited her left eye so the top half of her head was entirely wrapped up. there were little specks of blood on the bed.

i gave a eulogy at her funeral, and became close with her parents. i was one of their links to denton - they lived about 3-4 hours away in san marcos - and i made and put up a cross with her picture on it at the place her car crashed, against a telephone poll. you could still see blood on the ground.

something that’s harder to explain about greek “families” is that your big sister is more like your mom. so your big sister’s big sister is your grandbig. my grandbig happened to have another little sister, making sara a twin. her twin, claire was my aunt, and her little, another girl in my pledge class, was my cousin. we’re the ones that had signed the lease to live with each other two days before sara was murdered.

that next summer sara’s parents invited her “zeta family” to visit, so we did. being in her childhood home was like walking into a time capsule. but we all got along with her parents very well (her mom greeted us with very expensive tequila shots) and afterward that relationship continued and thrived. it’s helpful for them to have that link to sara, and honestly, it feels helpful to me, too. when they’re in town we get breakfast at sara’s favorite place (and the last place i ever went with her), and i text her mom pretty regularly to keep her updated about my health.

if you already know about sara and my relationship with her parents you can start reading now!

the reason this is relevant is bc clay, sara’s father, and i butt heads on politics on facebook, big time. we’ve never been outright mean to each other, but he’s said some things that have made me take a step back and not reply because i know id say something i couldn’t take back, and this is too important a relationship to risk. i get so nervous posting but im also someone who’s not ever going to be quiet about what i think and what i believe in so i posted something today, and when i saw he commented my stomach dropped because i outright said if you voted for him do not talk to me. this is what i got:

i was shocked. usually it’s a paragraph disputing my every point. does the green heart mean something i don’t know or is it just because it’s my favorite color? i want to take this in good faith but it is so out of character (not him expressing his love, because he always does that at the end of political “discussions” too) for him not to say anything, especially after what i said.

am i reading too much into this? is sara looking down on me saying “im so sorry trump won, ill guide my dad not to be a dick about it”???? (sounds like something she’d do). i didn’t know what to say so i just did the heart react. any way if you made it through this fuckin essay, i love you, that’s amazing, and if you give your opinion my love for you only grows. 🩷🩷🩷

TL;DR one of my best friends was murdered in college. i became close with her parents as a way for all of us to feel closer to her. her dad,clay, and i butt heads about politics on facebook pretty much any time i post anything political. this is what he commented today, and im confused by it. hopeful, but confused.