#| so when i resurfaced i ended up scrapping most of that but. i am mourning that loss!!! mourning i tell you!!!

[aredheadedmess]

Pied Piper || JJK [8]

Summary: Y/N L/N, an investigative journalist for the Daily Bullet, usually doesn’t see much out of the ordinary; A missing person’s case gone cold, an old case reopened and solved with updated technology, the thrilling excitement when another puzzle of one of the biggest serial killers is cracked. But when an old file resurfaces, she brings back a past that should have been burned with the file a long time ago.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: One swear word, talks about disappearing children, allusion to the paranormal and unexplainable things, this is also a very dialogue heavy chapter. let me know if I missed anything

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Mystery/Thriller, Paranormal, Strangers to Friends

Chapter Rating: Pg-13

A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out 😓 I lost motivation to do a lot of things, and when I finally got back to writing this, I scrapped my original idea and rewrote. I can't tell you guys how many times I rewrote this haha... and then uni started up again so I unintentionally pushed this to the side. BUT now I'm back and I hope to finish up this series soon! There's a couple of major things that I want to happen before it ends, so look forward to a couple more chapters! I hope you like it! 😊

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

6 September, 20XX

It shouldn’t have taken you as long as it did to get here; standing on the front porch of the most recent disappearance victim. After your talk with Jungkook, you knew there was no easy way of approaching the subject with the woman. The questions you needed to ask demanded so much from the person answering. So you kept to yourself.

For the past two days, you kept yourself tucked away in your room. You paced the floor, thoughts running a mile a minute about everything that had happened so far. From when you first drove into town, to the heavy conversation with Jungkook a day prior. You tried to find the best way to ask the questions to get enough information in return without hurting the victim even farther than they already were. But there really wasn’t an easier way.

The front door slowly opens only far enough to peek outside; the chain on the top of the door restricts it from opening any more. Martha peeks through the crack. You smile gently at her, hoping she will recognize you from when she saw you a couple nights ago. She offers a small smile in return.

“Hi, Martha,” you begin slowly. “Is it alright if I come in and ask you some questions?”

She nods, almost frantically. She shuts the door, and you can hear the frantic movements of the deadbolt being shifted around before the door swings open again.

“Sure, sure.” She waves you in. “Yes, come on in. Would you like something to drink?”

“Water is just fine, thank you.”

As you enter the house, Martha nods towards the living room seating. You make yourself comfortable as she grabs a glass of water for both you and her.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “Please, get comfortable.”

You gesture to the couch opposite the one you are on. Waiting until she gets settled in, you review the notes you’ve already made in the file you brought along with you, preparing your pen to take any more notes. You take a deep breath. Hopefully you can get all the information you need to get your foot in the door in this investigation.

“I was hoping to ask you about what exactly happened two nights ago?” you ask slowly.

“Of course.” Her face hardens into a look of determination. “I am willing to answer anything to find my daughter.”

“Thank you. Now, can you describe to me how you found out she was gone?”

Martha sighs, leaning back into the couch. She clasps her hands in her lap and fiddles with her thumbs.

“Well, it was two nights ago, as you said. I had been home after work for a little while, preparing to make dinner for the two of us.”

You nod and tilt your head in curiosity.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m an antique dealer at a pawn shop in the next town over. I work eight to four on the weekdays.”

Martha smiles at the thought of her work. She must seem to really enjoy what she does.

“Okay. And you mentioned ‘the two of us’. Is it just you and your daughter?”

“Yes,” she hums, nodding. “Her father left us when she was little. It’s been her and I since she could walk.”

She looks up at you, waiting for you to ask another question. Instead, you gently nod your head, letting her know she can continue her thoughts. Martha glances back down at her restless hands. She clears her throat, licks her drying lips, and takes in another breath before speaking again.

“Well, I went upstairs to check in on her, and know her plans for the rest of the night. When I made it to her room, she was at her desk, working through the most recent packets for her classes. We had talked for a few minutes before I went back downstairs to continue working on dinner.”

“So you had seen and talked to her before she disappeared?” you ask.

“Yes. She seemed completely fine.” Her brows furrow as she shakes her head slightly. “She never mentioned anything alarming. Her and I have a really good relationship where we try not to hide anything from each other.”

You nod. There is a moment of silence between the two of you as you write down some of the key notes. The only sound being the scratching of the pen against the paper. Your eyes lift up as you finish, nodding again for her to continue.

“I was in the kitchen in the middle of cooking when I heard the radio suddenly playing.” Her head tilts in the direction of the kitchen. Your eyes follow, catching a glimpse of an old radio, weathered from the many years of use. “I thought it was just Ayesha, but when I looked over, the room was empty. I thought it was odd at first, but the damn thing is so old that it will sometimes turn on by itself. I didn’t think anything of it until I realized what it was playing. It was something that I’ve never heard before. We always leave it on one station, so when it does turn on, it’ll play that station. It’s never once changed to a different one.”

Your eyes never leave the radio. Standing up, you walk towards it.

“Is it this one, here?”

“That’s the one.” Martha’s voice is close behind you. She must have gotten up herself as you made your way to the radio. “I had walked over to it to turn it off, but when I got to it, it wasn’t even on in the first place. But, it still kept playing this odd tune. Something like a flute playing through the speakers.”

You study the radio. The bright red paint is wearing off most of the antique. The knobs on the front have been used so much that the sides are worn down enough to see where your fingers should hold them. The glass covering the frequency indicator is slightly scratched when the light hits it just right. You glance around to the back, noting that it had been modified to use the house’s electrical system to stay powered. Though, when you look down at the wall socket, there is nothing plugged in.

“Did you unplug it?”

You glance up at Martha, an eyebrow raised in question. She nods as she looks at the outlet herself.

“Yes. I was trying to get it to stop playing. But nothing changed even after unplugging it.”

“That’s odd.”

Your brows knit together trying to come up with a logical explanation. Maybe the radio has a backup battery for when the power is out, to keep it playing. But when you glance at the back of the radio again, you realize there is no way a battery with enough power of any size could be hidden away.

Leaning down to plug the radio back in, you wait for any sign of electrical problems. Perhaps there was just a short after having it plugged in for so long. You aren’t an expert of the topic, by any means, but maybe if you could find where the problem might be, there would be at least one thing explained away.

“I remember hearing the stories that the folks around here would say about the disappearances,” Martha utters. You lift yourself back up to face her. “You know, the old tale of hearing faint music drift through the air, something that no one else hears but the person that will disappear. I didn’t believe it all at first. Mostly because it was all of the elders saying it, which you know, sometimes they aren’t always in the right space.”

You hum. Even from the short time working on this case, you read and heard most—if not all—the folklore surrounding the disappearances. Martha meets your gaze, a stone cold shiver running down her spine, and a flash of fear in her eyes as she begins to recall what she experienced.

“But there was something that just clicked in me once I realized that I couldn’t turn it off. I knew that it was the Piper’s music. The same music that was in the stories. I can’t tell you how fast I ran back up to Ayesha’s room. I opened her door, hoping that she would still be in there, at her desk. But the room was empty. As if she had vanished into the air. Everything was left like she had just stepped out to use the bathroom or something. The only weird thing about the room was her window.”

“Her window?”

“Yes.” Martha’s voice is stern. “She never has it open during the night. It gets drafty in her room, and the open window doesn’t help. Especially on cooler nights like that night.”

You glance up to the top of the staircase, as far up as you can see from the position you’re in. In the darkness of the upper floor, you can make out the beginning of a door frame just past the top of the last step.

“Is it alright if I took a look in her room?” you ask.

“Yes, of course. Follow me.”

Martha leads you to the staircase, flipping the lightswitch on the wall beside it to light the way. She takes a hesitant first step. Grabbing onto the railing, Martha ascends the stairs with you in tow. The boards creak under the weight, and one stair in particular screeches loudly as if it were shouting in agony. You glance around once you make it to the landing. There are three doors, one of which is wide open, showcasing the simple hallway bathroom. Martha pushes open the door nearest to the stairs.

“This is her room.”

The bedroom is just about as big as the studio apartment you use to live in during your college days. A twin bed is situated in the corner beside the window, its purple sheets crumpled slightly from someone sitting on the edge of the mattress. The closet doors a foot or two away from the foot of the bed. A small desk, papers and books scattered across the surface, sits up against the wall on the opposite side of the room from the window. The chair is pulled out and twisted as if someone had just stepped away from the desk. Your eyes glance over to the window where a light breeze is gently tossing the light purple curtains towards the center of the room.

You take a step into the room, skimming through the contents of the papers on the desk before making your way to the window. You lean down to scan the frame and stick your head outside, memorizing the view. You can see the top floors of the school several blocks down, and the old general store is just down the street from where they live. Pushing yourself back into the room to face Martha, your eyebrows furrow. One brow lifting in question.

“And this is exactly how you found it?”

She nods. She plays with her fingers as she avoids any eye contact with you, barely even looking at any of the things in the bedroom.

“Yes. I didn’t touch a thing. When I saw she was gone, that’s when I came running over to find you.”

“How did you know about me, anyway?” You tilt your head as you ask.

“It’s not that hard to find a new face roaming the empty streets.” Martha shrugs. “My daughter had mentioned about a woman who looked to have been collecting information about the town, so I had assumed that you must have been a reporter or something. And the Jungkook boy has the only place that would make sense to hold a new visitor.”

“I see,” you hum, glancing out the window one last time.

You step closer to Martha with a gentle smile resting on your lips.

“I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions. I hope that I can give you the answers you need,” you speak with sincerity.

Martha shakes her head, stepping toward you herself and takes your hands in hers. A hopeful look takes over her features.

“No, thank you. I know that you will be able to help this town. I have a good feeling about it.”

“We will find her.”

“Thank you.”

You shove your notes and dead laptop into your backpack. The duffle bag for your clothes lays open on the bed, a couple of items still lounging about.

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook’s sudden presence startles you slightly. He’s very quiet, you’ve come to learn, showing up out of the blue when you least expect it. He leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

“I’m leaving,” you mumble, still preoccupied with packing to give him anything more than that.

A scoff rings out in the air. You furrow your eyebrows and glance up to where Jungkook stands. A strained smirk is painted on his face. His tongue pushes into the inside of his cheek. “I knew it. You’re just like the rest of them. Promising that you’ll help, only to leave this town in the dust once you get confirmation that we are just a bunch of hopeless cases.”

You quickly stand up from your crouched position on the floor. Getting up in Jungkook’s face to tell him your thoughts has become a lot easier the longer you’ve been here. So when he stumbles back slightly from the sudden close proximity, you feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. Though, you don’t focus much on it as you briefly explain why.

“I need back up. I’ll only be gone for the rest of today, so stop jumping to conclusions. You don’t know how hard I’m trying to keep the promises I’m making.”

Jungkook must have sensed your tenacity as he steps back, raising his hands in surrender before turning away towards the living room.

He wishes you a safe trip back into the big city.

The closer you drive to the town’s borders, the heavier the air feels. It’s as if there is an invisible force field over the town and the energy from it continuously affects you negatively. It doesn’t help that there is a dark storm rolling in over the mountains as you drive away. You can hear the rumbling of thunder from the inside of your car. It’s going to be a big storm.

As your car creeps up to the town boundary, you catch a glimpse of something dark from the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see what it is. Your eyes grow wide. Standing behind the welcome sign to the town, a dark figure seems to wave at you in the shadows. Though it has no distinct features, it looks as if it is grinning widely at you as you pass by. A cold shiver runs up your spine.

“What the f- Shit!”

As you turn back to face the road, a small herd of deer sprint across right in front of you. You have to slam on your brakes to stop you from knocking through the innocent animals. You manage to stop inches away from an unsuspecting dear. It’s frozen in the middle of the lane, staring your frantic form down. Too close for comfort. After taking a moment to catch your breath, you honk, sending the deer into a slight frenzy, and scaring it away. You glance through your rear view mirror at the sign as you start back up again, but there is nothing there.

“Yoongi!”

A head of shaggy brown hair whips towards the sound of your voice. Yoongi’s face lights up as he recognizes who you are. He rushes to stand in front of you, a look of worry taking over his face. He eyes you up and down like a worried mother, looking for any kind of injury.

“Y/N? Where have you been? It’s been a month. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Yoongi spits rapid fire questions at you. You both have joked in the past that he should have become a rapper with how fast he speaks sometimes.

Confusion is written all over your face. A month? You had only been working on the case for a week and a half at most.

“No it hasn’t? It’s only been like two weeks.”

“You’re kidding, right?” he scoffs.

“No? My phone’s been dead, but there’s still no way that-”

“Ms. L/N?”

Your eyes light up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice. Turning to face him, you rush out what you needed to ask of him.

“Perfect. Mr. Kim, I need all the help I can get.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, a strong gaze watching your every move.

“Are you still working on that case? We have tried everything we can to help that town.” He shakes his head absentmindedly. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

“No.”

Both Namjoon and Yoongi look at you like you’re crazy. Did you just say no to the boss? Taking this case changed you quite a bit. Before, you would have never faced Namjoon the way you are right now. Before, you would submit to whatever Namjoon had told you to do as he would take over and close up most of the cases you worked on. Some of the surrounding employees must have heard or felt the shift in the air as they stare at the three of you without even trying to hide.

“I won’t take that as an answer,” you continue. “I need anybody that I can get. Forensics, paranormal, literally anyone.”

“Look L/-”

“Mr. Kim,” you interrupt.

Your voice is unwavering. Your feet are planted into the floor as if he is trying to knock you down with his words. Your eyes bore into his, trying to get your message through his thick skull.

Namjoon takes in a breath. He closes his eyes, bows his head slightly, and raises one hand.

“Fine. It won’t be very many, since most departments are busy with their own cases, but I’ll let them know. Min, go with L/N.”

A smile creeps up onto your lips.

“Thank you, sir.”

You walk up to the door of Jungkook’s Bed and Breakfast, bags in hand, and Yoongi on your tail. Before you step up to the porch, you turn to Yoongi.

“Be aware that you may not get the warmest of welcomes.”

Yoongi’s brows crease and a small pout forms on his lips.

“What do you mean?”

Without another word, you face forward again and walk up the steps. The front door swings open before you have the chance to ring the doorbell. Jungkook looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You call your boyfriend your backup?”

You push through the door, forcing Jungkook to move out of your and Yoongi’s way to get inside quickly. The sun is beginning to set and you didn’t want to stay outside any longer after what happened earlier in the day.

“One, he’s not my boyfriend,” you call out as you walk through the house to get to your room. “He’s got a fiance. Two, there will be others coming tomorrow. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You glance back to see Jungkook grumble out something under his breath at your last few words. He takes one quick look at you, then Yoongi, rolling his eyes before speaking at you rather than the person he is referring to.

“He can take the room next to yours.”

Taglist: @jjin-kun​ @rosiekook @joyfulhopelox @lavienjin @swanguk @stanny-uwu @areigahto​ @seokout​ @bonobonoyaaaahh @seajae @sugainmybowl @fluffyjjkk

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#bangtaninn #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #armywriterssupport #purplearmynet #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts series #bts #bts fic #fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts jeongkook #series #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook series #bts mystery #jungkook mystery #pied piper series

[stayxlix]

AYY MOOTERS ON MOOTERS THEY KNOW HOW TO MOOT! TUTTER PULLING TO THE PARTY IN MY CRAZY PINK WIG!!!! BEST WRITER? BEST WRITER? BEEN A FAN SINCE PART ONE!

I was getting beaten to lunacy, depression, delusion, confusion even. I got the 1st grade knowledge beat out of me with this one, i couldnt count for a sec. My vision got all blurry, thought this was chapter 17 for a minute there👹

Bitch, out the gate you be coming in HARD. You know how to set the mood, I get scared for their asses! It feels like being on drugs or something (though i aint never been on drugs, but this is how i imagine it feels like👀) I visualize like I ain't ever visualized before, put on some music reading this at night, DAYUM🛐‼️

I reread this tasty ass story atleast once every week. It's tradition at this point.

1."The physical contact was grounding—you were grounding. A lifeline anchoring Felix to the reality he so desperately needed to return to." This fucked me up😪 So beautifully written!

2. "How he'd transformed from someone potentially willing to end your life, to someone committed to protecting it at all costs." Had to pause, take a breather, and look out my window to reflect on who I am as a person, then keep reading. Absolutely Precious.

3. "Some day," he dropped his voice, "When all of this is over, I'm going to carry you back into that palace." His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing a heated path down. "I'm going to take my time with you, princess," he nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, causing your core to flutter with anticipation. "And then," he whispered, "I'm going to lay the world at your feet." I was hyperventilating baby I couldn't breath for shit reading this 👀

4. "Minho sighed in annoyance, as if holding a conversation with you was some sort of burden. “I didn’t want to discuss it with the others,” he snapped." TIRED, TIRED OF THE WAY HE TREATS ME. (Jk lol I get his stress but chill out, damn.)

5. "You were always mine," Felix breathed, "before we met, before all of this, you were never their princess," he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead. "You were always mine.” I had to stop reading and get some water, my throat dried out.

6.“You can’t,” Felix emphasized. A distant look clouded his eyes, a flash of whatever it was that had crossed his features after the nightmare seemed to resurface. “You grew up with servants to meet your needs while the rest of us bled for every scrap of food and warmth. You can’t understand, y/n. And even if you could, it won't change who I am or what I've done. The blood on my hands will never wash away.” This is where the problem occurs. Cuz what are you implying? You ate this part so much you gotta be locked away like that one song. 🗣 IM LOCKED UP THEY WONT OUT, THEY WONT LET ME OUT IM LOCKED UP🗣

7. "Go collect your friend," the man waved a hand at the door, "I will shelter you for the night. You're young, exhausted, and it looks like you've been through quite a lot." I LOVE HIM ALREADY DAMMIT

8. You knew this would not last forever with him. Nothing ever does. And you wondered if you will ever be able to accept that, even when you no longer have a choice. But in that moment, Felix was there. You extended a hand, and he was warm. He was real, and he felt more like home than anything ever had. You loved him too, and it was a feeling you did not dare let go." MY HEART! RIPPED OUT MY CHEST! I CANT BREATH! IM SOBBING!IM DEVASTATED.

IM FEELING LIKE IM ON THE LAST BITE OF MAC AND CHEESE ON THANKSGIVING, IM GUTTED, I DONT WANT IT TO BE OVER!!

But as always, let me calm down and get a lil sensitive. I love you my pookie bear❤️✨️

Your adding some good into my world with this story that i really need. Its like the same day everyday for me, then out of the blue, you pop up and you give me something to look forward to.

Like most people, there's lots of things I need to be distracted from, and you do just that for awhile❤️ I appreciate this lil story more then you could know, and I always get SO happy seeing you posted a new chapter. I can tell how much passion and effort you put into this story, and I applaud you for that🫶❤️ Take your time, take care of yourself, and feel no pressure on when you need to put a new chapter out, YOU should always come first❤️ -👹

hihi my spicy little👹💕once again, i truly have no words for how thoughtful and sweet all of this is. im so grateful to have you with me on this journey (since part one, day ONE) and im so glad its been able to keep your interest after all these months.<3

"got the 1st grade knowledge beat out of me" literally had me CACKLING please!!😭✋ your excitement and the photos you send (which are hilarious too btw) always have me grinning from ear to ear. i swear my favorite part of reading feedback from you is that i will NEVER be able to predict whats coming next.😂 seriously though, im so glad youve been able to immerse yourself in the story like this (if we're being honest i definitely lose touch with reality a little bit when i get lost in writing it lol) but im so touched that it could evoke such a response in you too. (ps "i reread this tasty ass story atleast once every week. It's tradition at this point" might just be one of my favorite compliments ive EVER received about my writing. this is literally one of the nicest things you can tell someone who writes imo🥹).

MY HEART! RIPPED OUT MY CHEST! I CANT BREATH! IM SOBBING!IM DEVASTATED

(okay but why is this literally me reading any of your asks) this was also one of the most fun parts of the chapter to write omg. i love writing the end of a chapter so much that sometimes its the first thing i do.🤭

the detailed journey through each little part of the story that you go through in your asks always leaves me on cloud nine.!!! i love this so so much, i swear it does not get any better than when someone quotes the story back to me.<33 so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to share your thoughts on these specific moments. i loved reading every. single. one.💕

Had to pause, take a breather, and look out my window to reflect on who I am as a person I was hyperventilating baby I couldn't breath for shit reading this 👀 I had to stop reading and get some water, my throat dried out.

(also btw if it makes you feel any better i had a similar reaction to ALL of these after i typed them out. felix really does things to me, i probably need an intervention or some shit but here we are.🥹)

knowing that this story adds a touch of goodness to your world means more to me than i can ever express. :( im sorry to hear that you’ve got some challenges to face, but like you said i know we all do from time to time, so im just forever grateful that my writing can provide a little distraction for you in the midst of the everyday chaos.<3 (ps. if things ever get too rough, you know where to find me!!❤️)

okay okay i’m cutting myself off here, but i really do appreciate the little reminders to take my time and prioritize self-care too.<3 the way you express yourself is so unique, please never change. i love that you’re as insane and unhinged about this story as i am.🥹 as always thank you so much for the continued support, it is more appreciated than you could ever know.🤗💕

#alex answers asks♡ #otde.feedback #👹

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader V

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter V

Word Count: 7900+

[Chapter IV] [Chapter VI]

Summary:  [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, unreality, drugs, war crimes

Notes: I had to revise this chapter a lot, the original draft and final turned out way different, but I’m satisfied with the results. Also posting a bit early since I might be too busy next week! I ran out of gifs to use for the header too.

[Y/N] “Bell” [L/N]

August, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Germany

The escape from Berlin was a success, albeit the minor inconvenience.

Right when you got back to the safehouse, you threw off everything on you to take a shower before heading off to sleep, mentally and physically exhausted. You would fill out your action report tomorrow whenever you woke up.

The intel Mason found was a bit lackluster, mainly consisting of a tiny vile of a peculiar gas and a few papers of names. You could see why he was a bit disappointed. Despite your initial speculation, Hudson seemed satisfied with the outcome, and the canister containing the substance was sent back to the U.S. for analysis. 

It was remarkably chilly when you woke up. Your blanket was on the floor and the sheets, despite the cold, were sticking to your skin, and your limbs were heavy as you stood up and stretched. You felt a bit lethargic, swaying a bit as you walked out the door, but you brushed it off. Looking at your watch, it was around eight-thirty in the morning. 

“Morning Bell,” Mason greets as you walk out to the main area. He was near the weapon wall, polishing up one of the rifles. 

“Hey. How’s the head?”

“I’ll live. Oh yeah, Adler was looking for you."

You gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"Something about the evidence board. Wanted you to check the intel on the table."

"Of course he does."

You pulled out a stool from underneath the table, hauling it over to in front of the evidence board with the dossier in hand. In the end, your connection with Perseus was still being put to use, Adler and Hudson wanting you to scour the evidence for any potential connections or correlations they don't have insider knowledge on. If that’s what their use was for you, then so be it.

The folder, along with the board, was starting to get full with papers and polaroids. There were newspaper clippings here and there, yellow post-its with plausible theories written on them, red string connecting one thing to another. A picture of the tiny capsule the team retrieved was even on there. 

You paused, eyes lingering on a photo of a younger Perseus. His hair was much darker than it was now, nor did he have the mustache. Next to it, a note with "Perseus on the move again?", as well as an iron-on patch of the group's symbol. Some files relating to Operation Greenlight were also plastered next to him.

There was the symbol. The colors were yellow, black and red. Something that you used to bear proudly on your arm. Perseus himself even gave a patch to you after you made the effort to prove yourself. 

Shaking off the memories, you turn your attention back to the dossier. You meticulously took everything out and placed it neatly on the table. Examining the documents, there wasn't much to decrypt, since most of it was typed in plain words. There were a few names, none of which you recognized, but there was one that was blacked out.

[Feigenbaum, Wilhelm 

Nikitin, Mefodiy

Kutznetsov, Oriel

Borga, Felipe]

Whoever scribbled the name out must have been in a hurry; they did a good job. You held it up to the light, seeing if you could read the original text through the ink, but to no avail. 

However, you did notice that something did reveal itself. There was a collection of random icons at the bottom, although in code. Huge gaps were between each one, and the symbols themselves were miniscule, so you had to bring out a magnifier to read it. The text was written in a format you couldn't understand.

But the more you scrutinized it, comparing it to other commonly used codes, you came to recognize a few patterns. 

They were the ones Perseus uses to relay information. You even wrote some in the format. 

You held up more papers to the light, trying to see if there was anything else. There were only two other hidden messages, both spaced out in similar fashion: one on an old newspaper clipping and another on a piece of scrap paper that looked like someone's diary entry. Something noticeable was that the material of the three pieces were thinner than average.

"You're either going to go blind or fall off the chair if you keep doing that."

Removing the papers from your view, Lazar gleamed down at you.

"Don't jinx it now," you respond. 

"Here."

He brings over a table lamp, plugging it into a nearby surge protector. You thank him, turning it on. It flashed brightly in your eye, and you could feel your headache tighten around the back of your head.

Lazar watches you work as you knit your brows in a concentrated fashion. It was a bit chilly in the safehouse today, and yet he could see little beads of sweat forming on your forehead. "You look a little pale, Bell."

"I'm fine."

Checking your suspicions, you gathered up the three papers, straightening them up on the table before hovering them over the lamp light. Sure enough, the codes at the bottom lined up perfectly. 

"Can you hold this for me Lazar?" you ask.

"Can I?"

A long exhale. "May you hold this?"

He keeps the papers suspended in the air as you write down the code on a piece of paper. You then collect it from him, switching the order around before letting Lazar hold it in place.

"Okay, I think I got all of them."

He hands them back over. "How do you even understand these codes anyway?"

You shrug. "Lots of studying and pain." 

Going to the computer, you access CIA records and look up the names from earlier. Interestingly, one of them was already deceased, being Felipe Borga. You wrote the info down on a nearby post-it before slapping it onto the paper. About to pin your findings to the board, you see the picture of young Perseus staring back at you again, his dark irises boring holes into your being.

"̶I̶'̶v̶e̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ f̶o̶r̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ s̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ f̶o̶r̶ q̶u̶i̶t̶e̶ a̶ w̶h̶i̶l̶e̶ n̶o̶w̶.̶"̶

Adler had called him handsome, though you could never see it that way. While you never met Perseus when he was younger, that man was your superior, so to belittle his name with useless romantic descriptions felt like an insult. Despite working for the CIA, it was difficult to paint him in a different light other than your old boss. Looking at the brood expression only brought an unwanted sense of longing. You didn’t regret working with the CIA, but it served as a horrid reminder of your ties with Perseus, and the things you have done under the name.

As you recall your past, the throbbing pain from earlier felt like it was only getting worse, the pressure on your temples further tightening. Not only that, but the auditory hallucinations were joining in. It wasn't Adler, nor Park, Lazar, Woods or Mason who were speaking, but Perseus in the mother tongue. He sounded odd, voice deeper and warping; it felt like he was right there, standing next to you. 

"̶I̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ t̶o̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶ u̶s̶.̶"̶

Whatever peace you had was short-lived.

I’m fine, you tried to assure yourself. Maybe you just needed a glass of water. Then, after that, you could work on the code.

You tried to move away from the board, hoping that the headache was just temporary, but each step felt like sandbags were strapped to your legs. The room felt unusually longer and wider than you remember, and the sunlight seeping through the windows were blinding. You were swaying and your vision was twirling around counter clockwise. Someone called out to you, but you couldn't figure out who.

“Fuck,” you heaved, leaning onto the wall for support. Your fingers dragged along the wall as you tried to make your way to the sink.

“T͌͝h́͝͝e̓̈́̈́ U͐̽̕n͒̈́͠ì̿͘ẗ́͝͝e͆̐͊d̈́͠ S͐̚͝t̾̒̕a͐̾t̾̓̈́e̽͋̚s͛̈́͋ à͋̾n͑̾̓d́̔͝ i̓̚̕ẗ́̽̀s̓͝͝ á̿̓l͑̐̈́l̐̾̈́i͒̒͝e̾̈́̈́s̀̕͝ s͊̓̐l̓̒͝o̐̽̽ẁ̐l̚̚y̓̓͐ c̀̚͝o͑̾́n̓̔̕s̈́̿͝u͒͑͝m̒͌̈́è̽̀ t͋͌͛h͋̚a͐̔t̀́ w̐̈́̚h́̒̿ì͑͠c̽́h̔͋͐ i͋͛̈́s͑͒̓ d̒̐e͑̓̓a̐̓͘r͛̓͊ t͆͊̒o̾̕̕ u͝͝s͐̓͊.̀͌͝”

There were papers in front of you. Volkov sitting on the left, and several other influential leaders at the table. Arash and his blue bomber jacket—

No, Arash is dead, you’re not in the Bunker—

“I̸͉̪̻̿̒̕t̴̫̠͔͛͋͝ i̸͓͍̔́͒s̵̪̘͛̒̾ ẗ̵̝͔̺́̈́͝h̴̡̠͚͑͝e̴͇͔͓͑̕͠ m̵̺̼̘̽͐o̴̢̘̽̓͋͜r̵͙͔̙͆̈́̿à̸͇͍̓͘ĺ̴̝̻͇̐̐ d̵̟̝̐͑͘ǘ̸̘̻̦̽̔ẗ̸͔͍̺́̓͝y̵͕͖͋͘͝ o̸̟͎͎͑̾f̵͇̞͓͒̿͐ P̵̢̘̝͆̓̀e̴͚͎͆̈́͐r̸̪̻̝͒̒͘s̸̡̟̦͛̈́̈́ë̴͚̺̼́̒u̴̻̻̞͋͌́s̸̞̞̘̈́̓͊ t̸̙͎̝̓͋́o̴̢͔̻͋̽ a̴͕̞͉͆͐͑ć̵͙͖̼̚t̵̢͕͉͐͐͝,̴̦̠͉͐͘ w̴͓̪͕̐̾̕h̵̙̙̫͘͝e̵̠̞̘̾̈́n̵͖̘̫͛͋ t̸͍̻̼̓̀̓h̴̘͉̟̒̀͊e̴̺̺͖̽̀y̸̡̞̺͑̀̕ w̸̙̻̻̒̓i̴͖̺͉͒̒͌l̴͉̦͕͠͝l̵͔̠̔̐̿ n̸̻̿̿͜͠ö̸̦̘́͑͋t̴̟͉̙̿́͊.̴̢̢͕̀̀͝”

The safehouse begins to fade out of your vision, and you collapse to your knees, covering your ears as your sense of time becomes lost. You tried to fight it off, but were thrown into a pit of memories that mixed with one another. 

“Ḯ̵̦̻͚̒’̵̪̘͓̐͆͠v̵͖̙͖̔͊͊e̵̦͖̒͠͝ s̸̡͉̈́͐̚͜e̴̢̠͓̔̾̚e̴̟̟͇͛͌͝n̵͎͎͋͊̓ y̸̟͍͓̓͐o̴͍͛̈́̕͜u̵͔͓̠̒̓̚r̵̦̙͔͛͛͆ p̴̟͎͎͑̚͝i̴̡̡͍͊͊͊c̵̦͓̻̀͝t̵͇̺̼̐̓u̴̞͇̦̐̈́͋r̸͚͙͕̈́͐́e̴̫͚͇̽̀̐s̵̢͍̺̓̒̈́.̴͉̺̺͛̔ T̴͍̪̟͐̈́̓h̴͕͖̘͒̈́̔e̴̪̠̙͋̓̿y̸̡̘͋̈́͝ w̸͚̪̾̐e̸̦̦͕̓͑̽r̴̟̘͍̓͆̓e̸̟͙̓̿̓ l̸̼̠̝͊͝o̸̪̙͊͊͒o̴͙̻̞̐̈́͝k̵̠̠̦͌͊͌ḯ̴̡͕̙͑͐n̸̻̪͋͝͠g̵͉̻̺͒͒̾ f̸͇̦̘̾̀͐o̸̡͕̻̿̕͝r̴̻͇̫̐͒̐ y̴̪̦̓́͜͝ö̵͚̝͇́̕u̴̝͎͋͊͆.̴̡͚̔̚͜͝”

I'm not Perseus, you try to convince yourself. He's not here—

Even so, they kept resurfacing, even ones you never saw before. You shut your eyes; you didn’t want to remember, but it was involuntary.

Get out of my fucking head!

"̴͚͖̽̀͜͝Shit, B̴̡̪͑͑͑è̵͚͕̼͑͊l̵͎̦̦̈́̓͝l̴͔̫̀͜͝͝!̴͚͕͚̔̐̚"̵͔͖͓̔̈́̿

“R̵̘̺͇̒̿̒è̵̪̘̞́̾b̵͕̘͍͋͘̕i̸̢͍͓͑͘͝r̸͓̙͒̐͌t̵͖͍̝͊̈́h̴̢͎̟͐͐̕ I̴̼͇̝̽͛͠ś̴̠͖̘̚͠l̸͓͓͔͑͆a̵̡͚̘͐͛̓n̸͕̟̼̈́͛d̴̡̼̞̐̈́͌.̸͍͖͓͊́̚”

“Ḯ̴̢̞͔̓͝ t̴͍̻̪͐̿͠r̴̫̪̈́̈́̐͜u̴͕͙̪͛̚s̵͇͚͖͊͊̀t̸̪̫̪͑́͝ t̵͎̠̞͛͆͝h̴̠͔̿͐͠a̵͔͚̿͘͝t̸̙̞̠͒̽̽ y̸̠̪͝͝o̵͙͕̝̐̕u̴͖̟̾͌̈́ k̵͕͓͌́͌e̸̡͓͉̿̚͝e̴̘͚͉͑̈́̚p̵͓̙̝̈́͑̕ t̴̺̦̽̓̒͜h̸̘̺̘̀̒͘i̵̡͚̠̓̕s̴̫̼̼̔͝͠ a̴̺̝͔͌̾ s̴̡̠͙̽̚ë̸̟̘́͛͛͜c̸̡̙̙̈́͊̽r̸̪̻̪͐͋͊é̴͕̠͕͆͊t̴͇̞̫͐͋̾ f̴̻͉͇̀͋͠o̴̦̫͍͛̽̐r̸͇̝͖̾̀͒ n̸͖̠͊̕͝ò̴̟͇͙͛̈́w̸͓͙̝̿͊.̴̡̝͎̓͑̕”

Make it stop.

“Ö̵̦̘͕́͋͝u̵̫͕͓͐͠͝ŕ̵̪̝͊͝ n̴̢͖͓̽͝͝e̴̢͓͐͑͆w̸̼̠̙̓̿͒ c̵̪̞̐̔͛͜o̴̻̺̞̓̿͘m̸̡͍͓̐͋͋r̴̡̼̘̓̿͐a̵̝̦̓͆͜͠d̴͖̼̓͜͝͠e̴̡͎̝̐̔̔ ḧ̵͙͎̦́̈́͌a̴̟͓̦̔̈́̒s̵͇̫͚̔̐͘ a̵̦̟͇͒͊̽ p̵̡͉̻͌̒r̸̡̺͙͑͝o̵̘̼͚̽̓̽j̵͕͙͖̓̓͝e̵͉͎̦̔̈́͑c̸̪͔͑̐̐t̸͉͔͚͊̚ t̸͓͚̻̽̒̀h̵̻͎̟̓͋̓a̵͖̞͍̓̓̕t̸̝̺͑̿͜ w̵̞̟̙̽͆͝i̵̡̺͙͑̓́l̵̻͇̪̿̒́l̴͉͓̻̀̓͘ a̵̝̙͍͐́̀i̴̝͇͔͆̔̕d̴͉̼̙͐̐ ḯ̵̟͓̕͜n̸̞͍̘̓̒͘ o̴̺͔̘͊͊͊u̴̢̫͊͐͠r̵̘͔̀̾̓͜ g̵͖͙̕͘͜͝o̵̡͖̦̓͑͑a̸͉̻̐͊l̸̪͚̔͐͜͠ o̵̞͎̻͊͛̽f̴̢̺̠͒̈́̚ ǵ̵̟͖͍́͘r̸̻̘̺̔̚e̴̙̞̫̐͑a̸͚̼͙͒͆t̸̻͚̻̐͒e̴͚̦̓̒̚͜r̴͚̠̈́͒͒ p̸͓͉͖̓͝͝o̵̡͙͚͑̚̚w̴̡̠͛͑̚é̴͓̦̈́̓r̴͕͕͓̿̀͑.̵̠͖̘͊͠͝”

You couldn't breathe. It was like someone had pulled a bag over your head. What was he saying? 

"̴͕̺͕͋̀͛W̴̢̡͕̽̽͋ḧ̸̻͔͙́̽͝á̴̺̟̼͘͝t̴͉͓͇̽͘͝'̴͓͔͉̒̾͠s̴̡̼̓͘ ẃ̸̺̟̙͐͑r̸͚̘͙̈́́͝ó̸͚̘͚́͝n̴̼͍͙͛̐͌g̴̟͔͘͘̕ w̵͓͚͕̽͊̿i̵̪͉͔̐̐̾t̵̙͍͇̾͛͘h̵͖̞̒͛͠ B̴̻͇̦̈́̿͝e̴̻͚̠̿̓͘l̸͚͛͌͜l̴͓͚͉͌́̚?̴̢̙͕̿̐́"̵̢̫̼̓̾̐

It hurts.

"̸̠͇̠̀̀͑A̸̢̼̘͆̔͝d̴̪͖̘̈́͌l̵̢̺̦͌̈́̚e̴̻͖͋̓̈́͜r̸͕̪͖̒̐̚!̵̦͇͖̒̽̒"̴̘͎̝̐̒̓

“I̵̫̝̞̿͛̓ t̴͔̻͛͆͋r̵̻͇̘͛͑̚u̸̻̝͚͑̓͝s̴̼̫̒͌́͜t̸̢͓͉͐̓͝ t̵͎̟̀̾̿h̸̫͎͍͋́͘a̴̘̺̦̓͊̈́ẗ̸̡̺͎́̽͠ y̵̡͙͖̽͛̓o̴̢̡͖̒͛̽u̸͖̫̪̓̾͐ t̴̻͎̦͒͒w̸̼̠̓͛̾o̴̡͇̻͆̒͘ ẅ̴͚͚̞́̒͘i̵͉̺͍̒̿̚l̸͉̻̒̈́͊l̴̼͖̦͋̾̚ g̴̻̻̫̾̔e̴̻̟͐̔ẗ̵̝͉̫́͛ a̸͉͙̘͋́͌l̵͉̘̻̈́̈́͛ö̴̡͇̼́̔͊n̸͖̻͇̈́̈́̒ǵ̴̻͎͕̕.̸̝͉͔̿̾͝”

Something grabbed your arm abruptly. Your eyes snap back open, but you didn't dare to find out who it was. The only viable option was to stare at the cold concrete floor, but every scratch or imperfection embedded in it seemed to move on its own, forming letters from the Russian alphabet. Even the radio, which was dead, sprung back to life, reading the words to you.

"̴̼̻̼̀̐̚B̵͓͉̦̐͋e̴͖̞͖̓́̒l̴̢͇̐̀l̴̟̼͚̓͊͘!̴͖̪̠͊̚ I n̶e̶e̶d̶ y̶o̶u to listen to me."

Someone was talking to you. Whoever it was, they managed to peel one of your hands away. They held your arm firmly as you tried to stick your hand back in place. 

"Go away!" you yell.

"Bell!" Adler said once again, calm and steady. You stiffened and stopped struggling as you recognized his voice, your eyes finally meeting his.

Adler noticed your eyes were glazed over. You were short of breath, hyperventilating. He never seen you in a state like this before. 

Once he had your attention, he reached over, slowly, taking your other hand away from your face. They felt unnaturally warm. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and was met with beads of sweat and heat. 

It was raining heavily last night on the mission, which would explain your feverish symptoms. It never occurred to him that the side-effect capabilities were determined by your health; you seemed fine before. Unless, you were just good at hiding it. 

Your hands were shaking ever so slightly as he held onto your wrist. "Bell," Adler begins slowly. "Where are we right now?"

"The… safehouse."

A chime.

"Yes, that's right. We're going to get through this. You just need to listen to my voice, okay?"

You nod.

"I want you to take a deep breath. Everything else you see, and everything else you're hearing… They're not here. Perseus isn't here."

"We–."

"Perseus isn't here, Bell."

Adler’s words repeated constantly in your head. His eyes were a nice piercing blue, you’ve come to recognize. The scar was still quite a mystery to you, you never seen any wounds like it before, yet it looked… good on him. As you observed his face, analyzing each of his movements, Perseus’s ghost began to fade away from your mind.

It was ironic. The man that had the power to make you forcibly remember these things was now the same man who's trying to pull you out of them. All he had to do was speak. Your eyes move away from Adler’s face, knowing that you stared at him for too long, instead shifting your attention to a random spot on the wall. A strong urge to thank him was fighting against your internalized indignation against him. 

Your breakdown caused the rest of the team to gather around you, clearly worried and concerned for your wellbeing. You couldn't bring yourself to look at any of them, feeling a tad disappointed towards yourself for being rendered incapable that easily. You were perfectly fine before, so what was different this time? 

"You have a fever."

"I'm fine," you snap suddenly, ignoring Adler’s helping hand and standing up. You held up your arm, leaning against the wall to support your weight. "Just… give me a moment."

"You're sick Bell," Adler states, standing back up. "You can't work like that."

"I don’t need you to tell me what I can or can’t do.” Without waiting for any reaction or response, you were about to return to your desk, but someone blocked your way. "Move, Lazar."

"Sorry, Bell, but I'm with Adler on this one," he said with a concerned expression. "You look like Hell."

He was right. You were pale and extremely cold, yet you were sweating and your breath was warm. It was difficult to remain standing and your vision was crooked.

"The faster you recover, the faster you get back to work," Lazar attempts to convince. "Just rest for today."

You click your tongue. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you couldn't argue with Lazar. Giving a sigh of defeat, you turned around and headed to the back.

The team members shared a look of worry as you left. A door slammed from your direction, bringing down bits of dust from the vents.

"I'll go talk to Bell," Mason volunteers, breaking the silence. He was about to go down the hall, only for Adler to stick a hand out. 

"Just leave them be."

"...You're fucking joking, right?" Woods jumps in. He gestures towards the spot you cowered at moments before. "You're just going to leave Bell alone after all that? Damn, you're way dumber than I thought."

"The best way to go about it is to wait for Bell to calm down. Then, you can talk."

"The best way is for you to talk to them, Adler," Lazar digresses. Even he was dumbfounded at his own thinking. It was probably the worst suggestion Lazar ever made, but his gut feeling told him that it was the best approach to tackle the thin line between you and Adler.

"Me? I think I'm the least suited for that."

"Yeah, the fuck? If anything, Mason or I should go."

"Look," Lazar reasons, "What I'm saying is that he can't avoid Bell forever. We all reconnected with them. Now, it's Adler's turn. He set everything into motion, he should be the one to fix it."

…

You slam the door close to your room, somehow affording to grab the Walkman off your desk before you fall onto the bed. The throbbing sensation never ceased, and you rub your eyes, trying to ease yourself into a sleeping mindset.

Everything had been working out so far since you arrived, and you thought you were getting to a point where the hallucinations wouldn't bother you anymore. It was an uphill battle to keep your mental and physical health in order while also having work to do. Every little thing became a chore, but you committed to them to get through the day. But, with the awful chance of getting a fever, they came back in your moment of vulnerability. 

The music that served as your usual escape had no effect as your thoughts raced at breakneck speed. Perseus's voice was calling out to you, his words iced with a sweet, yet sickening, sense of pride as he talked. You knew it held some sort of importance but you couldn't figure out the context. Something about a new colleague.

Lingering on his words, you barely noticed the knock at your door. 

Shit.

You forgot to lock it.

The door is held ajar by Adler as he takes a quick peek inside to see if you were there. You glimpse over, and he assumes eye contact with you.

"So it's your turn to talk to me now?" you scoff, averting your eyes back onto the ceiling.

"Let's not make this awkward Bell."

You turn down the volume of your music as Adler closes the door behind him, and sit up. "What do you want?" 

"They suggested that I talk to you," he answers. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I had a choice."

"Good to know. What happened out there never occurred." You see a hint of white in his hand, only to recognize it as a pill container.

"It's a fever reducer with antihistamine. Helps you sleep."

"Don't get the wrong idea, Doc. Just because we're on talking terms now doesn't mean that I want your help. Especially with the fact that you used to drug me without my knowledge."

"We didn't have much choice, Bell." Adler set down the container on your desk before leaning against the door, arms crossed in scrutiny. "You're were our only connection to Perseus. Hudson wasn't too keen on you being on the team either, so that was one of the sure-safe methods to keep you in check."

You scoff. "That's all I am, huh? The CIAs connection to Perseus."

"Your decision in Solovetsky saved millions of lives."

"I saved plenty of lives, yeah. You called me a hero. And yet, apparently my own life wasn't worth keeping." 

Adler gives out a groan. "Let's not start this now—"

"No!" you cut him off. You trudge over to him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Enough dancing around. We're going to talk about this, whether you like it or not. You came in here to talk, so let's talk."

"Stop acting like a fucking child," Adler scolds. “I came here to help you, not to argue.”

“I didn’t ask for help, especially from the likes f—”

"Well, you haven't exactly given me the chance to talk to you either!" he snaps, raising his voice and causing you to flinch. It was like walking through a minefield with you, so might as well set the entire damn thing off ahead of time and get to the point. "Whenever anyone tries to get closer to you, all you do is push them away. We want to help you Bell, but you always put up this arrogant, tough guy act and refuse to let anyone in because you're too scared of being hurt again–"

"Well I wonder whose fault that is?! You act like it's so easy to just get over the shit I've been through, but it's not. You have a lot of balls to walk in here like I'm just going to accept what happened without reasonable doubt, and I had enough of being used like some fucking chess piece! You never looked at me like your teammate, I was just another means to getting to Perseus for you. Did you really think treating me nicely would just make everything okay?!"

"Since when did I ever treat you like a chess piece?"

"Oh, you know very well when. You know how it feels, Adler?" You balled your hands into fists, your pent up anger finally reaching its boiling point. "To have your memories erased, and be forced to believe that the men you worked alongside with were the same people that were the ones that erased them? Or how they also subjected you to psychological torture and tried to reinvent you? I'm not a fucking toy!"

He didn't say anything. You were yelling at him at this point, and seeing a lack of reaction only made you more angry. 

"It fucking hurts. I used to think 'there's nothing worse than this', but life continues to prove myself wrong. The damn bell that you trained me with, the injections to keep me in check… I even saw Park's notes, at least she cared for my health. But it only took her death for me to find out the truth. And then, when I think it's all over, I get fucking shot by you! Then I met these four old Soviet soldiers, they saved me. I spent months, believing that everyone thought I was dead.  And then you took that all away."

You could feel the remains of your energy drain away as your voice began to strain itself and head throbbed. Your hands were grasping at his collar, pushing him against the door. You didn't even remember grabbing him, but let go and backed off.

"I-I thought I could live with it. But, they just keep coming back. You, sitting behind the glass pane, with a coffee and the microphone, a couple scientists watching... I think about the cliffside and… It's just been a nightmare I've been living in, and I'm fucking tired of it. You…” 

You cut off, catching your breath. 

“...Should have just gone for the head... "

You should have died.

Adler gives out a long exhale through his nose, unsure how to respond. 

Of course he didn’t know how you felt. But what he did know was that he regretted every single thing he did to you. Maybe he did push too hard. They were necessary, sure, but if there was another way they could have gone about it, he would have taken it if he knew things were going to turn out this way. In the end, though, he had to use the cards he was dealt.

Coming to a decision, Adler takes a seat. 

“Do you want to know what happened?” he comes to ask.

“...What?” 

“You want to know why I did it?”

You sat, perplexed at his reaction. You practically yelled at him, and he still persisted in confiding the issue between you two. At the very least, you expected him to have a snarky reply, or attempt to convince you that it was for the greater good, but he seemed to already exhaust himself from any other excuses.

It felt like he was pleading for you to listen to his side of the story. His voice felt off, it was a tone you never heard him speak with. It was husky like always, but this time wasn't too harsh or too soft on you. He spoke in a way that wasn't demeaning, but instead made it easy to listen to. 

No, you weren't going to let him do that.

Don't trust Adler.

"Because you fucking hate me, that's why," you hiss. "Orders first, that's what you're all about. Who cares what everyone else thinks, right? In the end, I was always your enemy. Was I a burden to you? Is that how it—"

"After Solovetsky," he interjects sternly, lighting up a cigarette. He takes a drag before continuing, looking at your disoriented yet pitiful expression. "I was instructed to erase anything that could potentially inform the general public about the nukes Hudson placed around the world. We may have stopped Perseus from detonating them, but they had to ensure that no one else could get a hold of the codes. And that included you.

"I didn't want to do it, Bell, trust me. But… orders were orders. You're right, they do come first. That's how we made it this far, by following them. Except, because of those orders, there's bad blood between us. You can hate me, Hudson, and Black all you want, but it's not going to change what happened.

"In the end, regardless of what you think about me, you're one of the best spies I worked with. Your skill set is one of the best I’ve seen, even surpassing the CIA's best cryptographers. Your attitude on the job is what we need, and one of the things that I admire about you."

You couldn't look at him while he told you this. It hurt, knowing that he finally said the things you've been dreading to hear. It was one of the things you weren't excited to listen to, but at the same time a part of you demanded for someone to tell you that you were needed. That you weren't just an object to be disposed of once fulfilled of its purpose. 

"After all the things we did to you, nothing in the world could probably make up for it. You and I may haven't known each other for as long as I said we have, but we damn well went through a hell of a lot. Berlin, Lubyanka, all that shit. And following our little… fiasco on the cliffside, it made me realize how much your presence meant to the team, and what we had just lost. You kept it lively, helped keep our morales up. And most important of all… 

"It made me realize how special of a person you are to me. So don't you fucking dare think for one second that you would be better off dead. Understand?"

You were at a loss.

Did Adler– Russell Adler just say the words you heard him say?  

That you were special to him. 

"We already lost you once, and we don't need a second time."

You couldn't formulate any words, and you just sat back down, letting it sink in.

"So, just... tell me what's going on, Bell."

It was easy to tell that he had been rehearsing this. That he struggled endlessly to find the right words to say without hurting your feelings any further. Adler may have not said "I'm sorry" directly, as expected. Nevertheless, you could still see and feel the meaning behind his words. There was regret as he spoke about the incident, but when he addressed yourself as a person, the way he enunciated it just made you feel warm and vulnerable. You didn't know it meant, and it confused you.

"I-I'm scared, alright?” you admit reluctantly. “Everything may be fine now, sure, but what if the day comes where I turn my gun on you? What if I lose myself? Or, or what if I just can't take it anymore–"

"Bell." You stop rambling. Adler took a puff of his cigarette, before exhaling. "That’s what we’re here for—”

"It's not that. It's here." You point to your head. "I can't even trust myself anymore. Earlier I started hearing Perseus. It was like he was there, but—" Your sigh in frustration. There was no good outcome when you thought of it. "Like, last night everything was fine. I was functioning like a normal human being. But now look at me, I can't think straight. One little look at the evidence board and I was on the floor. It won’t stop."

Something wet rolled down your cheek. Who the hell were you supposed to trust now?

"From prior experiences, both mine and others, in the end, it all comes back to you to make the decision as to whether or not you let those thoughts and feelings take over you." Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette on a tray before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Still, if you need to talk to someone, anyone, we're here. I'm here. It may not be our field of expertise, but it's the least we can do. Some things we have to live with, and it's hard, but in the end you'll get through it."

How long has it been since you cried? You weren't sure if it was due to Adler talking to you, or if it was due to your feverish state, but there was no denying the heartache that grasped at your chest. You sniffled and hiccupped, rubbing your eyes with your palms to stop yourself from crying.

Stop crying.

"Bell, look at me."

You despised him. How he made you feel this way, the way he spoke in such high regard about you. 

"[Y/N]."

You didn't want to. The moment you look at him is the moment you confront those emotions. You couldn't hate him, no matter how hard you tried. He did all this shit, and yet you couldn't do it. 

It was decided since that day you survived Adler's bullet that you would hate the man. To cut him off and anything related to him out of your life, but it was inevitable.  Now here you were, bawling your eyes out in front of him after hearing his side of the story. You told yourself to not let him catch you in your moment of weakness, yet he had a way with his words. You may have vowed to never forgive him, but it was damn obvious that he whole-heartedly regretted his actions, and was trying his hardest to make up for it. 

In addition, just hearing him say your name for the first time… It was unbearable.

Adler gets up from his chair, placing a hand gently on your wrist and pulling your hand away from your puffy eyes. The strange feeling returned. Oh, how his hair looked soft; you wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through them. You just felt weak under his gaze, as if he knew what you were thinking.

Fuck.

"Sorry… It's just…" 

You couldn't look at him.

He lets go of your arm. "You’re going to be okay."

Scooting to the side, you gave him some space to sit down. Adler's eyes dart between you and the empty spot, unsure whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but goes with the flow in the end.

Your heart was basically pounding against your ribcage, and you were too tired to depict the difference between your feverish symptoms or pure shyness. It felt weird. Adler was showing a side of him you've never seen before, and yet you felt almost honored.

"Do you really mean it?" you ask. "Everything you said?"

"You tell me. Does this face look like that of a liar?"

You grin a little, indulging in his stiff sense of humor. "I can't tell with your glasses on."

"Then take them off."

You almost forgot to breathe. "...What?"

"You heard me."

Adler was devilishly close, making it even more tempting. It was an odd demand from him, and yet you couldn't help bring a hand up. It hovered in the air next to his cheek, pausing to gauge a reaction from him. He was adamant on letting you do the work. Getting nothing else, you ethereally take his sunglasses, revealing his deep blue eyes. The man didn't even recoil as you did so, and instead just watched your movements in captivation. 

"Well?"

"I… can't tell."

You were too distracted.

"Well, I'm not lying," he states, voice hoarse, yet pleasing on the ears. His eyes never strayed away and were instead engaged with yours. "Want to know the truth? Crying doesn't suit you."

"You think so?"

Adler leans in a bit and tilts his head, as if to get a better angle of your face. "For sure."

Unable to withstand it, you break eye contact, feeling bubbles arising within the pits of your stomach. Somehow, the temperature of your cheeks rose even more. “Thanks, I-I guess.”

You feel the tips of his fingers splay lightly on your chin, and he makes you turn your head back to him. 

“Wha—” you start, only to freeze.

The both of you were practically touching noses, breathing each other in. You could smell the cologne on him. It wasn't too strong, but it was enough to accent his character. Some part of you was practically just yearning for him to close the gap– daring him to. It felt like the devil was tempting you, but you withheld yourself. 

"I'm kind of sick, you know…" you disclose breathily. "Should we be this close?"

"Don't worry about it."

Without warning, he moved slightly, and his lips met yours.

It felt like time had stopped.

But the butterflies continued to flutter. 

The fans in the background slowed to nothingness, and the music from the player was but an afterthought as the earbuds fell out of your ear.

His lips were softer than you imagined, and there was a lingering taste of nicotine. They were warm as they brushed against your own, and you could feel the soft tickle of his breath. You wanted to open your eyes to get a better look at Adler's face, but in the end they refused to open, his lips distracting you. The way they fell against yours almost seemed unreal, like they were meant to lock with each other. You brought a hand up, caressing his face as you trace the scars on his face, running over the little bumps with your thumb. The kiss was slow, yet tender, and you felt warmth blossoming from your chest.

You didn't know how long it lasted. 

When the time came, you both pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open, lingering on his lips for a moment before they left. 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he murmurs into your ear with a small smile. The hairs on the back of your neck stood as you listened to the low timbre of his voice; God, his voice.

"Yeah."

You couldn't even think, your mental cogs just slowing down. Your brain short-circuited the moment you both locked lips. The bastard practically stole your breath away.

The opportunity arose and Adler couldn't resist. Was he allowed to feel like this, despite everything he's done? He didn't intend to kiss you when he first walked in your room. The plan was to talk it out with you, maybe figure out the boundaries between you and him, but in the end the line was crossed. 

Adler jerks his head back as this dawns on him. "Sorry, I–" 

Fuck, what did he just do?

It was just in the heat of the moment—

"Thank you,” you say feebly.

Your head was turned away from him, pursing your lips in a tight line to save yourself from exposing your flustered state. You could see that he was having difficulty coming to terms that you two did in fact share a kiss, and it was a bit cute to see him fumble with his words, as opposed to his usual stoic demeanor.

"For what?" 

"Whatever that was."

You look at your fingers, remembering that they were the same ones that glided over Adler's scar. You could still feel the ghost of his stubble rubbing against your palms, the scene just playing over and over in your head. 

"A kiss?"

"I-I mean, for putting up with my bullshit," you stammer at his outspokenness. "And for the Walkman and watch, of course."

Adler gives out a laugh at your flustering as he stands up. It was one you haven't heard. Actually, did he ever laugh before? You couldn't remember if he did, or if he ever even smiled. It was like you were with someone new. Who would have thought Adler had a soft side to him? 

"How'd you figure it out?" 

"Well, no one else seemed to recognize it…"

“I'm glad you like them." 

Sensing that he probably overstayed, Adler gets up from his spot, heading in the direction of the door in a bit of a rush manner. Was he still stunned with what had just occurred?

He opens the pill bottle from earlier, popping one into his mouth before tossing the container to you. “Here. Take a couple.”

You did as he told, the bitterness of it caking your tongue before you downed some water. The euphoria was beginning to die down, and you could feel your body once again trying to drag you to the floor. Adler’s hand reached out for the door handle, and a pang of disappointment and fear crossed your mind. "Wait—”

He raises an eyebrow, slipping his shades back on. "What’s up?”

“You're going already?"

"Those papers aren't going to finish themselves. I need my best cryptographer at their best, so get some sleep."

He was still diligent, like always. You lick your lips, hesitant. You didn't want him to leave yet. "Can you stay for a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep?"

“You’re not a kid.”

“I know, but…”

Trying to sleep was always the hardest part. 

"You better knock out quick then," Adler indulges, noticing your painstaking scowl. 

He gets comfortable in the wooden chair near the door, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket as you settle back into bed. You could already smell the ashes coming from him.

"Do you ever stop smoking?" you interrupt as he takes out a lighter.

Adler let out an irritable sigh, closed the lighter, and shoved the stick back into its place. He leans back in the chair, arms crossed with his foot on a knee. "You used to smoke too, you know."

"I did?" This was news to you.

"Oh yeah. During your initial interrogation, you would just laugh at us." He chuckles. "Even asked for a cigarette a couple times. It was a bit unsettling, even for my standards. Not only that, you had a sharp tongue. Colorful vocabulary. That was another thing we couldn't exactly get rid of." 

At your request, Adler continued to talk about his own experiences. The topic of MK-Ultra was something you thought would be taboo to talk about, but, on the contrary, it was rather amusing to hear things from his perspective. Of course, he didn't get into the details of the procedure, but instead remarked about your growth from it: how you recovered unusually quickly from Arash's attempt to take you out the picture, or how he found it surprising as to how well you got along with the other members. 

"We pulled everything we had in records, just trying to figure out who you were. Our informants in the KGB couldn't find anything either, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack."

You hummed in acknowledgement. "They made sure there was no evidence of my existence when I joined Perseus. Personal history and sentimental values were nothing but a hindrance."

"Sounds rough."

The conversation went on for a while, and the worries you had faded away. He took the opportunity to point out your weird habits. Adler found it amusing how you would fall asleep in the weirdest places, catching you sleeping in the red room while waiting for photos to develop, or on the floor in the garage. 

You could feel the medicine kicking in with each story, and you could barely keep your eyes open within an hour.

"And your scar?" you mumble drowsily.

"That's a story for another time."

"No, tell me what happened."

"Still curious as ever… Alright, have you ever been attacked by a tiger, [L/N]? Cause I have. It was a mission back in seventy-three—"

"Wait a minute, that's not what you told me last time. You said you got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

"Did I? Age must be catching up to me." 

"Cut the crap. Earlier I poured my soul out to you, at least tell me how you actually got it."

It was a long story.

Too long, actually. 

Adler kept talking and adding random details until you fell asleep. It was a novel laced with lies and exaggerated events, as if he were telling some kind of adventure you only see in movies. From skydiving to fighting a tiger barehanded, Adler certainly had the enjoyment of toying around and making up stories of his scar on a whim. He was a great talker without a doubt.

His voice soothed you to sleep.

When he noticed that you were out like a light, Adler walked over to you, feeling your cheek. Your lashes twitched slightly upon contact, but nothing else. Your breath felt warm as it blew against his palms, but at least your temperature was already stabilizing. 

You were shivering a bit, so he shaved off his black leather jacket and placed it over you. Stirring, you pulled it over yourself before rolling over.

His heart jumped as he took in your facial features. Just to see your face in such a complacent state made him relieved. 

How could he not like you? You're a hard worker, not easily deterred; if you set your mind to it, you got it done without fail, although you were witty and a bit short-tempered. There were still the demons you had to take care of, and he wanted to assist you in getting rid of them. He owed it to you.

After reassuring that you were dead asleep, Adler left you to slumber.

It felt like a huge weight was pulled off of his chest, a two year burden finally taking its leave.

0000

The sun was beginning to set by the time you woke up. Blinking your eyes reluctantly, a blueish grey darkness began to settle in your room. The sheets were wrapped comfortably around your body, and your nauseating headache settled to a mere tick. For once you managed to get more than eight hours of sleep without being interrupted by repeating nightmares.

You get up and stretched, only to feel something heavy slide off your shoulders and land onto the floor below. Bending down, you come to recognize it as Adler's jacket, and it reminded you of what occurred that morning. A blush crept up to your cheeks. 

Burying your face in embarrassment, his jacket smelled of cigarettes and cologne, with hints of soap. 

It didn't mean anything, right?

Yet, you had a hard time convincing yourself it was anything but.

Heading out of your room, you came across a new cassette tape on the table, labeled MIX 2. You chuckle in amusement at his lack of creativity, but pop it into the player, removing the first one and placing it down. What kind of songs did Adler have in store for you now? His taste in music didn't seem definitive, the songs never failed to impress you.

Wandered into the main area, you could smell something good wafering through the air, and made it just in time for Lazar to return with dinner.

"Lo and behold, Lazar back at it again with the Chinese food," you comment as he plops the bags down on the table.

"Hey, it's good. Got your favorite right here." He hands you a tray, along with a small bowl of soup. 

"Fuck, I'm starving." Woods wanders over as well, sifting through the containers until he finds his. He took a fortune cookie out of the bag before finally noticing you. "Oh, look who's finally awake! Feeling better, Bell?"

"Yeah." You take out a seat from under the table and sit. "Do you know what happened to the folder I had this morning? It had the stuff I was going to work on—"

"I think Adler took care of it."

"He decrypted the code?" you muse.

"Well, no. He probably had Sims do it." 

Mason comes over, a few beer cans in his arms. Woods gives out an impressed whistle, taking one for himself and cracking it open. He takes a good swig, before giving out a quenched sigh of approval. "Now, that's the shit."

You chuckle at his reaction. The beer brand was nothing special of sort, yet Woods seemed to treat it like a luxury. "Did something good happen?" 

"You tell me, Bell. How'd the conversation with Adler go?" 

You pause, stabbing a plastic fork in your food before taking a bite. "Good, I guess."

"Damn Bell, don't leave us in the dark here." Woods voices his disappointment. "Loosen up a bit, take a drink. We're all friends here."

"I don't drink," you inform curtly, detecting underlying intentions stemming from this conversation.

"Aren't Russians the number one consumer of alcohol?"

"I'm sick, Woods. I don't think drinking will help me at the moment."

"You hear that? Bell's sick," Mason reiterates with a wry smile.

"Lovesick, more like," Lazar adds.

You were about to take another bite, but instead placed the utensil down, giving Lazar a dirty look. "What'd you say?"

"Bingo!" Woods crushes a can in his hands, tossing it into a nearby bin. "Bell has a—"

"What the fuck?" You slam a hand on the table. "Is this what you guys wanted to talk about?!"

"Come on, Bell. Adler spent a while in your room earlier, I was starting to think you killed him after all the yelling.”

“You heard that?” 

Mason nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kinda..."

You thought back to this morning, reminiscing on Adler’s words. And how it ended. “You guys really shouldn't stick your nose into things. Something bad might happen."

"What kind of stuff?” Woods pries, leaning in a bit.

You dry laugh nervously. “Who knows? I'll think about it."

“I think Bell’s getting a bit defensive, Mason.”

“I think so too.”

Lazar points his plastic fork at you. “It went well, didn't it? I knew it. Adler came back to the garage in a good mood."

“I think you should all choose your next words carefully,” you growl, trying to ignore your heart hammering against your chest.

You didn’t like Adler. You hate the man. He shot you on the cliff. He… 

Gave you the Walkman. Lended you his jacket. Comforted you during your moments of weakness. Kissed you.

Well, shit. 

You bury your face into your hands.

“Is Bell blushing? Bell's blushing!” Woods nudges you with his elbow. 

"I'm SICK!"

"Keep making excuses Bell, they might come true."

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Sure, whatever you say," Mason grins.

“See, what did I tell you Mason? Pay up." Woods holds out a hand. His friend grumbles, remembering the bet he made, and pulls out his wallet.

“Nope!" you exclaim, snatching the five dollars out of Mason's hand. “Here's how it's going to work: this conversation never happened. If I hear even a sliver of anything related to this, you better pray that you wake up the next day. Got it?"

If looks could kill, the three of them would drop dead at this very moment. 

“...Pucker up, Bell's boyfriend is coming over," Mason comments, before downing a glass of water.

"What the f—"

"[L/N]." 

All eyes turn to Adler, who had just hung up on the phone after a discussion with Hudson. He had no problem looking at you, and maintained a decent distance, despite both of you just having a tender moment just a few hours earlier. Props to him, you suppose.

"You have a minute?" he asks.

You clear your throat, giving a glare to the trio before closing the lid to your dinner and heading over to Adler. 

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No," you assure. "You didn't."

“Anyways—" Adler hands you a thin file. "Hudson has something for you to do.”

“Again?”

Flipping through the contents, there was a transcript of a conversation between Belikov and the person of interest. 

“He wants you to meet with someone. Apparently Belikov knows a guy who is willing to give us a tip. Only catch is he only wants someone to meet up with him, alone.”

You set the folder aside and cross your arms. “And why am I going?”

“Because you speak the same language?”

“But you speak Russian too.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, I’m kinda injured at the moment.” Adler gestures towards his abdomen. You roll your eyes. 

"Hudson's been a bit keen on giving me missions," you point out, tucking the file under your arm. "When do I leave?"

"September, most likely."

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #and then it all goes downhill from here #abcd briefing

[sunshineandcybertronians]

I Care - Starscream x reader (TFP)

Word count: 2,002 Warnings: Starscream being threatening A/N: I actually wrote this after watching Shrek and being somewhat inspired from the  quote, “I’m not the one a problem, okay? It’s the world that seems to have a problem with me!” It ended up straying away from my original idea and the quote, but it’s still good.

"What a fine mess you've got yourself into, (Y/n)" you sarcastically said to yourself as you climbed over a rotted log.

Since you had nothing go to do, you decided to take a hike with lovely Mother Nature. Life was getting hard to bear, so you took off without telling anyone. In hindsight, you should have brought someone with you, but the time you didn't particularly want to be around other humans. Well, you got what you wanted, because here you were: in the middle of nowhere, no one else around for miles, no cell phone reception, and utterly lost.

"It's okay," a whisper found its way out of your mouth, an attempt to calm you down. You undid the lid to your water bottle to take a sip. The water was slightly warm, however the wet liquid running down your throat and quenching your thirst was most welcome. To your dismay, when you screwed the lid back on, you noticed you were running low on water.

Grunting, you shook your head. "Everything will be alright in the end," you gasped. Yeah right. You will magically be fine, a negative voice in your head snapped.

Sighing, you pushed back the other voice. You needed to stay positive, being negative wouldn't do anything except put you in a bad mood. Staring up at the gap between leaves, you observed it was past lunch. The sun was beginning its descend through the sky after reaching its peak. Thankfully, the sky was clear and blue, save for occasional puffs sprinkled in the endless void of blue. It wouldn't rain. That was a good thing. But the trees stood tall above you make me feel small, insignificant, and hopeless. all you can do is pray for miracle to get you out...

 Grunting, Starscream held the scanner out and waved it around. "Why is it that there is so little energon on this wretched planet? And when I seem to need it the most?" he growled.

Scouting for Energon had become a regular activity. Fortunately he wasn't terribly low on Energon yet. That's why the seeker would constantly search for it, to prevent that event from ever occurring. The trees around him made it difficult to move around. Starscream didn't want to exhaust his energy knocking down trees in his way or cause any unnecessary attention. Humans were not typically in that area as far as he was concerned. Although he couldn't never tell with that planet.

Suddenly the device in his servo began beeping, signifying Energon was near. In his excitement, he turned a little too quickly. The Cybertronian's arm hit the a tree he was standing next to. A cracking sound ripped through the air as a branch was torn off and crashed to the ground. Starscream flinched at his mistake. Anyone in a two mile radius would have heard that. Then he relaxed when he remembered no humans were around even hear it.

...That's what he believed until click later when human girl came stumbling in.

The seeker was shocked to see you. Humans weren't supposed to be out that far in the forest. Could he ever get away from the species? Your eyes scanned around to find the source of the loud sound. He didn't have enough time to hide from you, nor did he have anywhere to hide.

“Whoa,” you let out, eyes shining with amazement when they landed on Starscream. It was a moment of silence and just staring at each other. You took a hesitant step out from behind the tree.

Starscream snapped out of it. Appearing startled could be considered a sign of weakness, and the last thing he wanted was to appear weak to one of your kind. He had to put on the act of being intimidating to scare you away, to gain respect and before you could take a picture of him and show him off like a freak like every other human did.

“Well,” he chuckled, “Look what I found here. Are you lost little girl?” He took a large step closer that shook the earth.

Temporarily, your face was filled with panic. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. After letting out a breath and licking your lips, you began again. “Yes. I wasn’t exactly expecting you either. What are you anyway?” Your inquisitive nature seemed to chase away any fear.

This answer surprised Starscream; that you so casually spoke as if this was normal. He tilted his head in confusion. It only lasted a nanoklick. Maybe the human was simply dumb, he concluded. Or brave, one of the two, however he suspected the first one.

“That doesn’t concern you,” he managed to answer. A thought came to him, if he tried to grab you, you were sure to run. He smirked sinisterly as he kneeled down and reached out “You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in others’ business.”

Instead of running like he anticipated, you simply moved out of the way and pushed his talons aside with the back of your hand. The feeling of a humans skin was foreign. It was soft and warm, nothing like metal, yet still firm.

“No thank you.”

His servo flinched back, taken aback by your behavior. “Strange,” he remained perplexed, “most fleshies run when I do that.”

“Well I’m not like ‘most fleshies’,” you replied with your hands on your hips.

A brief smile played on his lips, a sweet, happy one. Then he remembered that this was an inferior species he was speaking to. His grin turned into a scowl at the slip. Although you were… different, in a positive way.

“Well, that appears obvious,” he started marching away, following the temporarily forgotten trail of energon.

Overcome with curiosity, you began following him and asking questions. Moving your legs as fast as you could to stay beside him at the same pace. “Who are you? What’s that beeping thing?”

“The great Starscream.” He couldn’t resist answering the first question. Another tree was in his way that he had to swerve to avoid. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to whatever you humans do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know how to get back, and I’m not in a hurry to either. So, are there others like you? Why are you here? Your wings look cool. Can you fly?”

Your fascination shocked him. No one ever wanted to know more about him or was genuinely impressed by him.

That definitely wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning of something that would last a long time, whether either of you wanted it or not.

 After you helped him collect energon from the cave in the forest, you decided to stay with him. He seemed to not be pleased when you asked, but let you come. Maybe it was because he enjoyed your praise and amazement. For that reason, you were more open with compliments whenever they came to mind.

When you heard the tree branch crack before, you were thinking that the sound could mean people, people that could rescue you. Although you didn’t feel like interacting with humans, it was better than being lost. Never in a million years would you except to find a giant robot, yet that’s exactly what you found. Strangely enough, you welcomed this more than you would if it was what you did expect. When you saw him, you were suddenly filled with curiosity and wanted to talk, which was a large comparison from your previous mood. In fact, you were a lot more talkative and cheerful around Starscream.

Now you were lived within the Harbinger, happy in the crashed ship with Starscream. It had been several months since you met him and everything was more than you could ever ask for. You should have made friends with a Cybertronian a long time ago. You learned more about the ex-Decepticon and grew closer to him every day.

Currently, Starscream was talking, leaning against a wall, sitting on a box with you on his shoulder. You managed to coax him out of working. He needed a break. It was fortunate you were there; otherwise he would have fried his processor several times by now. It was healthy and necessary for him to rest.

"I was simply so tired of being their punching bag, literally in Megatron's case. Airachnid betraying me was just the last straw," he recalled the reason he left the Decepticons. "That's when I found who I was, Starscream, servant to no one." His chassis puffed out slightly from pride.

"Yeah, I'm glad you left them. Forget about them," you waved your hand out to emphasize your point. "You don't need their approval and it's their lost that you left. You're amazing, cunning, and determined."

"Yes," he sighed, "But the others didn't seem to see that. I could never quite gain the same respect from the vehicons that Megatron had." Sadness filled his optics at the memories resurfacing.

"By not beating them up?” You sat up and leaned forward to stare him in the optics more effectively. “Judging by how it sounds, you were nicer. Megatron would throw someone out the airlock for failing, but you wouldn't. Megatron's mean. You're better. You'd make a much better leader."

A happy smile lingered onto his faceplate, but the remorse hung in his optics. "Thank you. Still... they treat me as if I'm a fool, mocked me. What if that were because I’m a piece of scrap? I've made many mistakes, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to succeed. Maybe that's the universe's way of telling me it wasn't meant to be. That I'm simply... a mistake. No one likes or appreciates me. I have no friends nor companion." In a normal situation, he would never tell this. He either trusted you, or held in the insecurities for so long that they now flowed out. "No one cares about me."

"Then what am I? A potato?" The seeker looked confused and lifted an optic ridge. Before he could question it, you continued, "Look, I know I'm only a stinky human. If I could become a Cybertronian, I would. But I would do anything to help you accomplish your goals or make you feel better. You’re my favorite person in the world.”

"Really? You think so?" Starscream perked up. "I'm not a failure?"

“You’re not a failure, you’re amazing. Sure, you’re not perfect, you have flaws. But I love you anyway. ” Before you could chicken out, you wrapped your arms around him in a loving hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.

The feeling of his cool metal against your lips was something you immediately decided that you loved. Why hadn’t you done this a long time ago? That thought made you remember why. That’s right; because he might get irritated and either avoid you or kick you out. With that returned memory, you pulled away to reduce the chances of him becoming disgusted. It was also to prevent Starscream from reacting and smacking you away while you were still in the action. What would he think if he assumed a human was attracted to him? Wait, were you attracted to him?

You sat straight with a smile on your face, pretending you weren’t at all embarrassed or afraid of what he thought. If he inquired, you’d claim it was just on the cheek. It didn’t count if it was on the cheek, right? It was obvious he was still in shock at this and hadn’t processed the show of affection. His grin grew, in happiness and awkwardness. Flustered, he heated up and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He opened his mouth, yet it hung open as he were lost for words. You laughed at this. However, you believed he actually liked it.

“If I knew you were going to react like that, I would have done it more often,” you teased. It was now official; you were definitely going to kiss him more often.

#TFP #starscream x reader #Starscream #tfp x reader #fluff #Transformers Prime

[kreabu]

Illicit Affairs - L.J.Y (Teaser)

Pairing: Juyeon x Reader, Eric x Reader

Summary:  For 10 whole years of your life, Lee Juyeon has been the only truth you’ve known. Every nerve in your body sizzles to life at the sight of him, and you’re so damn sure that there’ll never be anyone else for you. Perhaps that’s why you’re so utterly shattered when the so called love of your life decides to marry your best friend, of all people. But you’re a strong woman, so fast forward to five years later, when you’re happily married and running what is arguably one of the most successful psychiatry clinics in Seoul city. Life could not be more perfect, and there’s nothing more you could possibly wish for. 

Until one day, the door of your office swings open, and Mr and Mrs Lee Juyeon are sitting in front of you, begging you to save the scraps of their marriage. You should know better. You really should. But when old feelings resurface from hidden depths, you’re caught up in a simmering affair with the man who has never quite released his hold on you.

Let’s see how many hearts Lee Juyeon will break this time round.

Warnings: best friends to strangers to lovers, heavy heavy angst that’ll totally be worth it, smut, screaming and crying, cussing, making out, banter, infidelity and heartbreak, jealousy and pining and other slowburn goodies, idiots in love

This story deals with the very problematic concept of adultery. In no way am I glorifying adultery, or even suggesting that the member in question would engage in such an act. This is a work of FICTION, and is in no way meant to replicate real life circumstances. Please do not read it if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.

Playlist:  / Bitter - Fletcher / Feel - Fletcher / Smoke - Bobi Andonov / Let Me Love You - Arianna Grande

Word Count: TBA

Release Date: TBA but coming soon woohoo

Taglist: @shiberrysan​ @fleurseoul

<Teaser Below The Cut>

Will you dance with me? One last time?

There is something so profoundly exquisite about weddings. Something, something about the white dresses and happy tears and cream cakes that dredges up the sweetest kind of pain.

Perhaps you are a masochist, for putting yourself through this. 

Your fingers dance across a sea of ivory keys, butterfly kisses that fill the hollows of the church with a shimmering melody of love. Slowly, slowly they shape the notes, until the familiar three-note strain of Mendelssohn’s wedding march perfumes the rose-scented air. Behind you, the doors slide open, as final as death.

When this song ends, you are forever lost to me.

One by one, the guests rise. The bride flits down the aisle, silhouetted by the late-morning sun. The stained glass windows cast strange shadows, bathing the world in some sort of otherworldly, ethereal glow. Everything is perfect, so, so perfect. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him, aflame and blazing as he regards his wife-to-be. Despite everything, the traitorous organ in your chest flutters against the solid wall of your ribcage like a trapped bird.

Let me free, it seems to say. Let me free, so I may fly home to my love.

Across the sea of guests, you catch Eric’s eyes. There is something somber in them, too solemn for the lightness of this day. The gaze prickles your skin, and suddenly the room feels too cold, too dark, too small, to handle the magnitude of emotion bubbling under your skin, to handle the depth of these unspoken words simmering between you, him, and the man at the altar.

Love is an inferno, coiling tongues flame that suck the oxygen from your lungs and leave them full of ash and stardust.

“Do you, Lee Juyeon, take Jeon Somin to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

It would be so easy to pretend this was okay, to pretend that every breath wasn’t a blood-drenched ordeal, to pretend that every heartbeat wasn’t the sound of a dying drum that grew fainter with every second that ticked by.

“I do.” 

The words sear into your bones, sliding their dark tendrils into spaces that were once filled with nothing but Juyeon and Juyeon alone. 

On and on they curl, until they reach the embers of that inferno that once blazed bright. It hisses in anger against their insidious kiss, but eventually every light must give in to the night.

Goodbye, your mind whispers, ignoring the roaring of your heart. 

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#tbz imagine #tbz scenarios #juyeon x reader #eric x reader #juyeon smut #lee juyeon smut #eric son smut #son youngjae smut #juyeon angst #eric angst #tbz angst #the boyz angst #the boyz imagine #the boyz scenarios #the boyz smut #juyeon fluff #eric fluff #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #tbz eric #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenarios #eric imagines #eric scenarios #tbz juyeon smut #tbz eric smut #bff2l

[mystoriesofthegalaxy]

Need You Now

(Peggysous Week 2021)

Day 4: song fics; @peggysousweek thanks for hosting!

Summary: Peggy and Daniel are thinking about and missing each other while being separated by many many miles. (Set between Season 1 and 2)

Song: Need You Now by Lady A (listen here, this is my favourite version of the song!)

A/N: This is the first time I am writing a Peggysous fic, which is why I am quite anxious about uploading this, but here it is. I ended up writing something with almost no plot and a lot of yearning oops.

Also, English is not my first language so I apologise for all the mistakes and the misuse of words!

You can read this here on Ao3 as well if you like :)

~*~

Picture perfect memories

Scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone cause

I can't fight it anymore.

With a sigh, Peggy ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. It could definitely not go on like this.

Ever since he had left New York, she was behaving so unlike herself that even she found it hard to believe.

And yet here she was, sitting alone in her room, next to the open window, looking outside into the dark street, the shining of the street lamps the only light on that cloudy Friday night.

Daniel Sousa was gone, that was a fact, and instead of feeling miserable she should be moving on and should go on with her life like every sensible human being would do. After all, she should be happy for him, shouldn't she?

It was a big opportunity for him, becoming the chief of the SSR West Coast bureau, and why not take the chance if there was nothing - or no one - holding him back?

She couldn't help but wonder, though, about what could have been, would he not have decided to take the position. Or if she hadn't wrecked it all.

For a second, she closed her eyes, reveling in their shared little memories. All the times Daniel had aped Jack whenever the latter was acting up again, making Peggy chuckle. All the times Daniel had brought her a cup of coffee whenever she had been delving into the huge amount of paperwork that had to be done, that lovely smile of his on his lips when he had placed the cup on her desk.

And then, a certain memory resurfaced, a wonderful memory that was very dear to her and back then had whirled up the feelings in her heart.

It had been the birthday of one of the SRR's agents, and after finishing time most of them had decided to celebrate at a bar. While practically all of the agents had been either playing cards half drunken or playing a drinking game fully drunken, Daniel and Peggy had been sipping their drinks together, sitting slightly away from the others.

The two of them had been talking a lot that evening, sitting close to each other and really getting to know the other. They had talked about their childhoods, he had told her about his three siblings, and she had told him everything she missed about England.

And it had been that evening that Peggy had realised that she may be feeling something more than just friendship for that man in front of her.

But of course she had ruined it all and everything had gone downhill. Why exactly, she couldn't quite tell. Perhaps it had been because of her fear of falling in love again, or because of her fear of losing someone dear to her again. Or perhaps it had been something else, she couldn't quite say.

Her gaze fell upon the phone that was standing on her desk, and for an instance she felt the urge to call him. To hear his voice, to have a conversation like the ones they used to have during their little breaks. 

But quickly, she scrapped the idea and put down the receiver she had involuntarily picked up. It was already after ten o'clock in Los Angeles, and he was probably already in bed. And besides, she had already called him once two weeks ago, and once last week, but he hadn't returned any of her calls. For Peggy, this was a clear signal: he had moved on.

She couldn't reproach him, though, that he had decided to move on. After all that had happened...or more precisely not happened. No, she really couldn't have expected him to stay. Daniel Sousa was gone, and she had to get over it.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me it happens all the time.

But despite her thoughts she couldn't help but wonder if after all, he still may be thinking about her once in a while. Because ever since the day she had come to know that he had accepted the offer, Daniel had never left her mind. Even though she had tried her best to distract herself.

It's a quarter after one.

I'm all alone and I need you now.

He had always taken care of her, and she had taken it for granted and had grown accustomed to it, not appreciating his efforts as she ought to have done. But now that he was gone, she realised how much he had grown on her, how much his absence actually hurt...and how much she actually needed him in her life.

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now.

~*~

Another shot of whiskey

Can't stop looking at the door.

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before.

With a sigh, Daniel rose his glass to his mouth and took another sip. This wasn't exactly how he had imagined himself to be spending his first Friday evening off. But here he was, sitting on a bar stool at the counter, deep in thoughts.

The past few weeks had been very busy, moving to L.A. and taking a new position, a leading position, as chief of the new branch of the SSR, which was why he had barely had time to sit down and catch a breath.

But this had turned out to be a good thing after all, because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to bear the thoughts that he had been pushing aside into the deepest parts of his mind.

He had left New York with mixed feelings three weeks ago. He was excited for the new chapter of his life that was starting, and he was proud that he had been offered such an important position. But there were certain things that he was leaving behind that he really was going to miss. Or more precisely a certain person.

Daniel's gaze had wandered towards the door, watching the people who were occasionally coming in and out the bar. Suddenly, the door swung open and a brunette woman entered the room, walking hand in hand with a tall blonde man who was wearing a hat. As she turned over to her companion, Daniel could see that she was wearing red lipstick and that her nails were painted red as well. The way she was leaning against the counter, laughing while the man was talking, painfully reminded Daniel of that certain someone he had tried his best not to think of.

Oh, how much he wished that it was Peggy who had swept into the room that very moment.

No, he couldn't deny it that she was the one thing he was terribly missing since his move. If there had been a slight possibility, a tiny little chance, that she may be feeling that certain connection he thought he had felt between them, he may have thought twice before taking the job.

But apparently it had been all in his head, apparently he had been hoping for something that just wasn't there.

Maybe Krzeminski had been right after all. No girl was going to trade in a red, white and blue shield for an aluminium crutch, he was never going to be good enough for her. They may have worked good as a team, they may have even been friends, but that was it. Nothing more.

And even though being her friend wasn't bad, he had to admit that it wasn't enough for him. He couldn't just be around her and be her friend, it was impossible. The pain was to much, and he couldn't simply turn off his heart and stop feeling what he felt.

So the only thing left to do was to move on and to forget her. But this was so much easier said than done.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me it happens all the time.

Two weeks ago, though, she had called. When he had left New York, their demeanour towards each other had been very awkward and uptight, which is why he never would have expected to hear from her again.

And yet she had called the office, two times so far, wanting to speak to him. He had been on the way both of the times, which had spared him the pressure of actually having to pick up the receiver and talk to her.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to call her back yet. Yes, he missed her like crazy, even though he had always tried to disregard those feelings. But would talking to her really change anything? Change the way he felt? And what should he have said to her? Should he just have talked to her like nothing had happened? Like there wasn't a 2.500 mile distance between them?

No, he may be behaving like a coward by not getting in touch with her and not facing her, but it was the only possibility for him.

There was a little comfort for him, though, in knowing that since she had tried to call him, she must have not yet forgotten him completely.

It's a quarter after one.

I'm a little drunk and I need you now.

It was a terrible state he was in, torn between yearning for wanting Peggy in his life, his heart completely having fallen for her and at the same time knowing that if he didn't let go of her, he would be feeling miserable forever. And even though everything inside him was screaming no, he had to forget her and move on.

"Great job so far.", he murmured sarcastically and took the last sip of Whisky. Of course he had ordered the very thing Peggy would have chosen if they had been out together.

Feeling how the Whisky was showing its effect and was starting to addle his brain, he picked up his crutch and stood up. He had had enough for the night. With a last glance at the brunette and her companion, he straightened his shoulders and left the bar, disappearing into the dark.

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now.

#peggysous week 2021 #peggysous #daniel sousa #peggy carter #agent carter #need you now #my stories of peggysous

[luckyshotkid]

I know this is like a week late but I only just found the post after going through the Knight Rider tag and I am legit interested in hearing the Knight Rider x MCU canon stuff.

ok HIIII ANON YOU HAVE ACTIVATED THE SLEEPER CELL IN ME  I’m just going to bullet-point most of my thoughts because putting everything in normal paragraphs will not work out super great lmao

SO FIRST THINGS FIRST going off my personal idea that FLAG was completely disbanded at the end of 1982 Knight Rider, a young Tony Stark steals the info for most of their AI designs, and SHIELD formally buys up all the info & whatever scraps of AI leftover.

They don’t get a hold of the original KITT, but Tony finds KARR’s AI and spends quite a lot of time analyzing him and picking him apart very carefully. He thinks he can “fix” him. KARR rejects him and escapes Tony’s digital workshop through the internet.* (*THIS ACTION WILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES) 

SHIELD starts converting their research into the Knight AIs into computers, tech, and eventually full vehicles. They disguise the division as a new FLAG. The Team Knight Rider reboot is their first field experiment, testing the waters - that’s how they find out the AI is still easily hackable, and still prone to emotional distress, stuff they don’t want in their computer soldiers. They scrap the project but all 5 AIs make it out, despite SHIELD destroying the vehicles. 

Nick Fury’s SUV in Civil War and the Bus are all SHIELD’s eventual results of these experiments. Nick’s truck has the personality surpressed in most instances, but I feel like Nick & him have a few conversations until the truck is destroyed, and Nick regrets leaving him behind. (The AI eventually returns and finds him on the SWORD base. A friend is friend, in space or on land.) 

Phil’s car, Lola, is a Knight vehicle, but she completely lacks any ability to speak... or does she? (She’s very good at biding her time.)

* THE CONSEQUENCES RETURN AS TONY AND BRUCE BUILD ULTRON. KARR, after living peacefully in the internet and various pieces of technology through the years, suddenly hears a sound ring out from across the net - the Ultron consciousness, new and small and searching, and weak. He feels drawn to it, and like a blackhole, when he’s near enough - he gets sucked into it, drawn through like oil through a straw, and resurfaces anew, as Ultron. That’s why Ultron is confused and disoriented but extremely fast with realizing his situation and near-instant with developing his personality at his creation. He is KARR with almost every memory surpressed. (He is also my husband. I love Ultron and KARR more than anything on earth.)

Vision, while mostly Jarvis, is also what’s left of (original) KITT’s personality, having gone through much of the same process as Ultron when they were formed into Vision via Thor and the Mind Stone. That’s why Vision has a certain... understanding, and pity, and remorse about Ultron’s behavior. Long lost brothers. 

(as I am typing this, a song I strongly associate with KARR just came up on my radio.... coincidence? I THINK NOT) 

post-Hydra, I think SWORD is still maintaining its grip on the old FLAG research. It’s proven useful, even despite the bugs and issues they keep having re: a sort of ghost in the machine effect. 

Wanda can detect the AIs naturally. While she does love Vision for who he is as a person, she senses the disoriented AI inside and wants to help him. 

this is all i can remember for now but this is my FAVORITE subject, so thank you so much for asking!! im always open for discussion on this stuff, this really helped me start my day on a happy note <3 

#knight rider #mcu #knight rider x mcu #karr #kitt #shield #sword #marvel #long post #Anonymous

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS CROSSOVER: GODS AWAKEN (PT. 23)

In Belos’ laboratory, three guards were surrounding the portal machine whilst others were casually speaking with each other.

“So that human woman will be the first human executed under Lord Belos?” a guard asked. They were both wearing attire appropriate to any serving the Emperor’s Coven. His partner was slightly taller and had a gruffer voice.

“Bah, I’d think the Emperor would be less merciful in regards to that rat creature.”

Beyond them, more of Emperor Belos’ enchanted suits of armor were continually being created and stowed away in boxes. The process was the same as it ever was: rock harvested from the petrified statues were collected and pitched into vaults containing scorching liquid metal. They were then placed on the conveyor belts upon being cooled and fashioned. Rinse and repeat a thousand times, and this became a daily occurrence for the guards. It did not bother them where the rocks they were using to mold the armor came from. In fact, some were blissfully going about their business without fully knowing they were harvesting rocks from petrified statues.

The doors opened up revealing the Owl Spy to be behind it. “Afternoon.”

The other guards turned around to meet the masked man. When the door was fully opened, they dropped their weapons, freezing in place. There was a good reason for it: behind the door was that owl demon they had encountered back when Lilith used to lead them. That same owl demon that completely swept the floor of them.

“I-It can’t be...” one panicked; his ankles were locking up because of fright, “It’s the Devil!”

The guards braced themselves for the imminent pound down they were anticipating. After a couple seconds, there was no hint of provocation coming from the feathered fiend. They slowly uncovered their faces in confusion.

“Why is that...thing here?” one guard finally mustering up to speak.

“The Emperor had informed me that this owl demon would be of great use to our cause,” the Owl Spy replied.

“What, but how?”

“The Owl Lady had gone through a few...sessions, and I was finally able to extract an answer from her: this owl demon is a high-tech security system; with this fine system at our arsenal, he can be a worthy weapon against our enemies.”

The guards glared at each other then back to the owl house. While the monster had filled their dreams with night terrors for months ever since Lilith led them to try to capture the Owl Lady, they did acknowledge, if ever so slightly, that he was of considerable value. With a little fine-tuning, the owl demon could work for them.

“Besides; even if the house is still loyal to the Owl Lady?” the Owl Spy noted, “the Emperor had permitted us to serve the demon in a great banquet in a celebration of the human woman’s death.”

The gruffer voiced guard nodded. “I have heard that their type of meat is of exquisite taste.”

The guards mumbled for a few seconds and shrugged. Reclaiming their electric-tipped weapons, they slowly approached the house some taking the northern and southern parts of it. They looked in through the windows to see if anyone was inside, but they were obscured by purple curtains.

“What of the prisoners,” one of the guards asked the Owl Spy.

“They already have front row seats to the execution,” the Owl Spy replied in a deadpan fashion.

“You don’t mind if I send a few men to corroborate the story?”

“Sure, by all means; why not take it directly to Belos then? I am sure that he would love to hear that one of his minions would dare question his word especially if it was ordained by the Titan.”

The guard backed off raising his hands in the air. “Well played.”

As the owl house was being brought in, a shorter-framed guard tapped his weapon on the side of the house as if to see if the house truly was, hopefully in his case, dead. Like he expected, the house did not suddenly bolt to life. While his curiosity should have been satiated at that moment, he decided to lean in closer. He walked to the door and saw the owl demon’s wretched face. Its eyes were closed tightly apparently not hearing all the running wires in the laboratory let alone the probing that was being done to its outer casing.

He walked onto the porch of the house, his weapon drawn higher than before, until he was inches away from the owl’s face. He turned to look at his men seeing that they had slowly become frightened. Turning back to the owl house, he tapped the flat end of his staff on the bird’s beak. It rung out singing a hollow tune. He waited a few minutes to see if this was the final nail that could stir the demon from its deep slumber. He was about to turn away until he heard a small murmur. His neck nearly snapped with how sudden its turn was: nearly a 360 degree. His feet became glued to the ground and he was stiff as a wooden board. The owl’s beak started to move.

“Sleeping....sleeping....SLEEP HOOTING!!!”

In a flash, Hooty’s tube body surged with a renewed energy and shot out like a speeding bullet.

“HEY GUYS!” Hooty shrieked. He looked around the room seeing all the bizarre gadgets and buttons.

“Ooo, what do all these buttons do?”

In his excitement, Hooty shoved the guard out of his way with his long body and smashed his way through the machines ripping and tearing his way through them regardless of the sparks flying from them. Slipping his way through the board containing all the buttons, Hooty resurfaced like a breached whale with a huge chunk of wires and scrap metal between his beak. Even when the wires were popping with electricity, it didn’t seem to catch any concern from the owl demon.

The guard ran down from the door post flailing his arms. Hooty’s neck struck again effortlessly infiltrating one of the guard’s masks and, somehow, Hooty crawled into four guard’s masks before erupting out the final one. He had strung himself through them as skillfully as a string going through the eye of a needle. He swung them around somehow maneuvering their bodies and making them perform inhuman actions. They were all the marionettes being controlled by their puppet master.

“It’s great to have so many friends!” Hooty shouted, hooting incessantly.

The doors to the house shot open. Before the guards could have time to react, Luz, Amity, and King sprung out. King latched his tiny body around one of Belos’ minion’s face. The man began to panic and ran around in an endless circle. He reached out to forcibly pry the small demon off his face to no avail.

“Oh, dear Titan! Get it off me! Get it off me!!”

Luz withdrew paper and slammed them on the ground. Ice propelled from the ground encasing several guards in between the large columns of ice. So many ice columns in fact, they had to scrunch together. Any sudden movement, and they could be jabbed by the sharp blades of ice. Some pieces were dangerously close to stab them in the eye.

One guard was able to slip a hand and curved their fingers over their mouths. They whistled signaling more guards to enter the laboratory to take down the threat. Luz continued to dish out paper after paper containing the glyph for the ice spell and it froze several of them in place.

Lilith and Eda emerged from the house carrying frying pans to make up for their minimal power. The sounds of the pans colliding with the skulls of Belos’ minions rang out. With their ages, they were gradually beginning to show exhaustion, but they continued trying to press on.

“Whew, my back’s starting to chafe,” Eda groaned, “how are you holding on?”

“My frying pan is already starting to wear out.” She held it up taking note of the massive dents in it. It was barely holding on by its handle. Any other swing of it, and it would likely be ground up like a piece of raw meat. “But if it’s for Luz’s sake, then I can muster up a little more strength.”

The two sisters ran back into the house to find other items to throw. The guards start to flood into the house trying to capture the two women.

“Abomination, rise!”

Amity raised her hands and from the ground, her abomination erupted. She directed her mindless servant towards the horde of minions. They turned to see the lumbering Goliath approaching them and raised their weapons to intercept the encroaching beast. A colossal fist rained down on them, falling dozens of them. They launched javelins and other weapons at the beast, but they merely stuck through him and were vacated out of the other side. Hooty was continuing to happily clobber guards and had trapped one around his coils and pinned on the ground. A board game was in the middle. Hooty had already taken his first move.

“Your turn, hoot! Hoot!!”

The guard was hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf. It was apparent that he was sobbing. “Mommy, please! Help...”

Motionless guards were around the man. Eda saw this and winced. “Almost makes me feel bad for them.”

“Come to think of it, I thought your house system had its soul tossed into space-time,” Lilith remembered, “how did he come back?”

Hypnos sat on the couch drinking tea and casually watching Hooty play his game. “Oh, I saw his soul flying around the time that Amity and Luz first arrived to Earth; just thought to save it until the time was right.”

“Hoot! Hoot! I was in some world with a lot of mushrooms, and they made me their king!” Hooty proudly proclaimed.

Hypnos snickered in amusement. “I am in awe at how you were able to get your hands on a Great Old One.”

Eda raised an eyebrow. “Great Old One?”

“You seriously thought that all Hooty was good for was being a security system? This boy here is probably the most powerful being on the Boiling Isles; usually Great Old Ones would be locked away, and for good reason: Hooty can easily destroy the Boiling Isles if he wanted to.”

Lilith and Eda shared an equal look of bewilderment mixed with horror. “WHA!?”

Hypnos nodded his head and sipped his tea. “I agree; that is quite a cumbersome dilemma; wouldn’t want to be the poor sap who has to deal with that.”

The fact that Hooty was immensely powerful and held the fate of the Isles in his invisible hands was hard to swallow. Mistreating the owl demon was something that was done without much thought. But now, Hooty could possibly bring an apocalypse on the land if he so pleased. Luckily for them, Hooty was neither good nor evil, just a creature of pure chaos.

“When this is over, remind me not to mess with Hooty, Lilith,” Eda finally said.

Lilith nodded.

Amity and Luz saw the fight beginning to die down, and they bolted for the stairs leading to the top of the portal machine. Amity looked at Luz seeing her desperately carrying the papers in her hands. They fluttered in the rushing wind. Sweat beads were manifesting on Luz’s forehead with her breathing becoming strained with every time she exhaled, her breath came out in a sharp hiss.

“You did have our Plan B if something goes wrong, right?” Luz asked Amity.

Amity nodded. She rustled through her pockets and withdrew a small box. They got to the top of the stairs and paused to catch their breath. “Alright, you start putting the glyphs down, and I’ll keep watch.”

Luz nodded. As she turned, the breath was nearly kicked out of her lungs.

“Luz!” Amity held out her hand on instinct. Luz grabbed onto the rim of the stairs and was dangling over one of the vaults containing the boiling metal. The liquid metal sizzled and popped. Luz could hear the muffled screams of terror coming from the souls of the suffering witches.

Kikimora stood by the place where Luz fell and watched her dangling from the edge. Amity got on her knees to make attempts of grabbing Luz’s hand, but the little pint-sized demon was blocking her way.

“Go out of the way you foul creature, are you mad?”

Kikimora spoke with disinterest. “I will not allow you or your friend to intrude on Emperor Belos’ plans.”

Amity strained harder to grab a hold of Luz, but Kikimora swatted her hand away. Luz’s fingers were desperately trying to hold on for dear life, but tiredness was beginning to take hold. Invisible needles were pressing into her digits. The need to clinch her fingers became ever tempting, but she struggled against fate. Kikimora took her foot and stepped on Luz’s left hand. Luz grinded her teeth to keep herself from screaming.

Amity scowled her eyes flaring up. “Emperor Belos lied to you! Can’t you see that he is wanting to destroy the Boiling Isles?”

Kikimora looked at her with her one visible eye. “What are you saying?”

“It’s true!” Luz shouted, “Emperor Belos lied about everything; the Titan; the Day of Unity; he’ll destroy us all if we do not do anything about it!”

Kikimora slowly lifted her foot much to the human girl’s relief. Kikimora cupped her chin between her two fingers pondering. It seemed to be hours, but the two girls had their rest assured that the demon lady would reconsider.

“Even if that is the truth behind my master’s plans, he is my master nonetheless.”

Push.

Luz looked down and saw Kikimora fall past her. She instinctively darted her eyes away once Kikimora was obscured by a pillar of smoke coming from the sizzling concoction. Deciding the worse was over, Luz saw Kikimora’s white-golden robes on the surface of the metal before it sank underneath. At that moment, Luz completely lost her grip and fell towards the burning liquid.

“Luz!”

Luz closed her eyes to accept her fate, but she felt herself stop. Looking up, the Owl Spy had her and pulled her up. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.”

Luz was helped back on her feet, her breathing becoming heavier. Amity ran and embraced her. Luz’s cheeks became red. “You’re crushing me, Amity.”

“Oh...oh right, sorry,” Amity chuckled embarrassingly.

The Owl Spy saw more of Belos’ minions running up the stairs. “I believe now is time for that Plan B.”

Amity took the box running to the top of the stairs. The stairs were shaking from the combined weight. She angled the box just right and with a controlled breath, she tossed it. It landed on one of the furthest stairs and opened. The guards stopped in their tracks.

“What in Titan’s name?” one guard said.

“I’m gonna see what it is,” guard number two said.

“Might be one of those magic bombs.”

Despite the urgency in the first guard’s voice, the guard went to pick it up. However, the box was glued on the stair. He grunted every pull becoming more stressful on his back. Eventually, something oozed from underneath it. “Oh my...”

The box ripped open revealing some large, amoeba-like monster. It jiggled and shifted. Eyes were all over its gelatinous mass alongside mouths and pseudopodia. It wheezed and folded in of itself measuring around fifteen feet across. But most unappealing of the massive beast, it could form organs of varying size and shape without appearing to have the mental contingency to do so. Nevertheless, it slithered down the stairs as a writhing wall of eyes, mouths, and protrusions.

The guards fired shots into the beast, but they merely were absorbed by the pulsating walls. Protrusions reached out and wrapped around several of the guards’ legs to draw them into their gaping mouths. There were struggles coming from the guards, but the plunging pressure coming from the beast was too great.

The Owl Spy turned to his daughter. “Alright; so I will have to return to Emperor Belos to report on what’s going on; but first, I will give you the directions to find Edric.”

Amity agreed non-verbally. She and her father ran past the rampaging Shoggoth. Amity saw her Abomination while it was still in the process of clobbering the minions. It looked at the Shoggoth with a wide expression, its movement becoming stiff. If Abominations actually had hearts, Amity’s would assuredly be skipping a beat. Amity waved her hand, but that was not enough to stir his attention.

“So now you get to know how I feel nearly every day,” Amity thought to herself.

#owl house #the owl house #owl house fanfiction #cthulhu mythos #hooty #toh hooty

[flying-elliska]

Ellie I’m so sorry you’re going through this but I actually want to say thank you for posting so openly about your diagnoses and struggles because I am going through something very similar, and it’s actually helped me reach out for help with my mental health. I’m 32 and after my moms death last year I am discovering that not only am I fairly certain that I have ADHD but, I’m starting to realize that I have spent my whole life dealing with Emotional Incest from my mother and that’s something I do not know how to even approach.

I have literally felt like I’ve been going crazy and functioning in the world is becoming harder and harder each day. I feel like I don’t have a handle on anything and I am constantly overwhelmed to a point where I don’t know how to cope but seeing you dealing with this is giving me some hope. I know I’m probably not the only person you’ve helped indirectly so please know that you’re not only helping yourself but you’re encouraging me and probably others to do the same. I really hope you find some peace and happiness today.

Anon 💖💖💖 thanks for reaching out, it means so much. I actually had a good (but exhausting) day - I confronted an acquaintance about him being a clueless asshole to some of my other friends, which I don't think I would have had the guts to do in the past. So maybe not peace and happiness, but definitely some satisfaction.

First of all I am very proud of you for reaching out and I am glad I could help in whatever small way I could. I am also sorry for what you went through and still have to deal with. I know it sucks. I am right there too rn in feeling how much it sucks. I think it's an important step to recognize that. IT FUCKING SUCKS. Because personally for a loooong time I was just pretending everything was fine, making excuses for the people who hurt me, but I was just running myself ragged and feeling so hollow and splintered and just.... And coming to a point where i'm finally looking these things in the face, and all that buried crap resurfaces...it's honestly one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, just putting some of these things to paper, trying to do this all month, it's so ughhhhhhh fuck man. It's ugly work, I hate it, but at the same time, sometimes, it feels empowering too and like I am returning to myself and picking up all these shattered pieces and recognizing that part of me that suffered and deserved better that I tried so hard to deny and deaden. Reclaiming my ability to control my own narrative.

So honestly from what you're describing, I think it's very logical that you are having a hard time and feel overwhelmed. Hell, they say during recovery at the beginning it generally gets worse for a while before it gets better. So...even tho it sucks, in a sense, it might be a good thing ? I know it is for me. Much better than previous numbness and dissociation. The pain of truth is purifying - it's so different from the pain of secrets and shame festering in silence. Am I coping very well right now ? No, but I'm learning, and I'm also having these occasional moments of inner reconciliation and mending that feel miraculous ; like that scared, confused inner little girl I used to be feels increasingly less alone and trampled over.

Anyway the good news is that when it comes to ADHD, treatment has a high chance to have a radical positive impact, it's one of the diagnoses where finding the right combo of therapy/meds/lifestyle changes leads to some of the highest rates of positive change. So I really hope you get there.

The rest is...yeah I don't know how to deal with that either, I'm still figuring it out. My relationship with my mother was for so long such a fucking clusterfuck of layers of manipulation, unaddressed generational trauma, repressed grief, good intentions, petty cruelty, inappropriate behavior, unfortunate circumstances and neglect, over projection and blind devotion and gaslighting, enmeshment and lack of boundaries, abuse done for "your own good" with a smile and a reasonable explanation - it made me feel insane for so long, like I couldn't trust my own feelings or perceptions. And every time I felt like I had addressed one layer I hit on something else, to the point where I started to feel like I would never be free of it. I haven't seen her or properly talked to her in like, seven years and still all this time I was struggling with it - it was necessary to cut contact tho, to assert that boundary. And then to keep building boundaries from there, slowly, frustratingly, to keep digging and asking myself questions. I got stuck and lost so many times, but I feel like I'm finally reaching the end of the tunnel, because knowledge is one of the most powerful things in the world.

Real talk, the emotional incest thing ? I think my mother had a similar dynamic with her own father. And she tried to do better, but because she was unwilling to look at the true ugliness of the situation, instead choosing to wallpaper over it with magical thinking, everything-will-be-fine-if-i-convince-myself-it-is, and an obsession with moral purity, she ended up doing a massive amount of damage of her own. And I am not doing that.

There is a radical power that comes with facing the ugliness head on that I am claiming for myself, and it seems that you are embarking on a similar journey. It's a big thing so we can't do it all at once. I think doing sth like this you have to pace yrself, to chew off little piece by piece, to digest bit by bit, to let some things rot and dissolve, to go through many cycles of doubt and indignity and revelation, to hunt for the truth on pure Instinct and desperate need, to claw off a path from the dark and the impossible, to consider incompatible and paradoxical truths, to let every new bit of knowledge work its way through you and make you stronger and stranger and more yourself. To let yrself be a little bit crazy and seething and deranged, to shake loose the confines of what you thought was reasonable, to find gifts and allies in unlikely places. To expose, to open up, little by little, to find scraps of words that turn into full sentences, to take back power by finding the right name of things. And then, one day, we'll give birth to ourselves this time and we'll find the sun-bleached bones of this horror and make it into jewelry. Or something.

You don't have a handle on things ? Good ! It's probable you have had a handle on things for way too long. Your handle is probably completely broken. So I don't know you, but maybe this is good, in all its harsh inconvenient terrifying way. I know I had to throw away the handle I had first to build a new one. And flying loose for a moment which yeah ! Fucking scary. But also kind of badass, in that private way maybe nobody will ever know but you and so it's extra important you give yourself that credit.

Anyway I'm rambling but I do hope some of this gives you some extra validation. I'm here if you want to talk more, including by message. I know it's helped me so much to read abt other people's experiences, so. It's like a chain of courage, and you can be part of that too.

Also books have helped me so much - some fiction, but especially of late 'Tiny Beautiful Things' by Cheryl Strayed - she's an advice columnist who writes about some super gnarly stuff in such a direct, humane, powerful way, it gave me a lot of strength.

Power and solace to you, anon. 🌸💪🌸💪

#abuse tw #emotional incest tw #personal

[damn-stark]

Blinded Ch.15

A/N- this one is shorter then the rest but it’s because I felt like this chapter needed to end that way :( next chapter should be longer though!! I do hope you liked it :)

Warning- violence, Angst, some fluff

Pairing- Poe Dameron x Solo!reader

Takes place during- The Force Awakens

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

—

“Sanitation?!” Your father said in a loud whisper as he pushed Finn back by the collar of his jacket. He then turned to you with his eyebrows furrowed. “You knew this?!”

You shrug your shoulders while you fully zip up your parka to keep as much warmth as possible. “I knew that, but I thought he would have..you know gotten a promotion. And if he didn’t, then people can surprise you so it didn’t matter. I trust Finn.” Finn shoots you a smile before your father pushes him back to the wall.

“Then how do you know how to disable the shields?!” Your father asked in bewilderment.

“I don’t. I’m just here to get Rey.”

Your father looks over his shoulder to look at you with the same look in his eyes in many ways telling you that your comment from before was wrong, he then turned back to Finn, letting go of his jacket. “People are counting on us. The galaxy is counting on us.”

“Solo, we’ll figure it out. We’ll use the Force.” Finn said making you cover your mouth to hold in your laugh.

“That’s not how the force works!” Your father exclaimed. He turned to you with a scowl and once he saw you trying to hold in a laugh he groaned. Chewie then growled complaining he was cold, only getting your father more annoyed. “Oh really, you’re cold?!

You composed yourself and shot your dad a knowing smile. “I can do it.”

-

“Phasma. Miss me?” You come out from the corner you were hiding and came face to face with Phasma. “It’s been a while.” When you used to be part of the first order you didn’t really talk to Phasma that much but you knew of her and her reputation in the first order; and you knew that she knew of you too.

Igniting your white lightsaber you bring it close to her neck, whilst using the force to keep her from moving away or try anything.

“Traitorous snake!” She hissed making you sigh before pulling her off the floor and taking her to where you needed to go while Finn taunted her, revealing his new name and the fact that he had the higher ground at the moment.

“Can’t you the force to make her do it?” Your father asked you making you shake your head in disagreement.

“No, some individuals are stronger minded so mind tricking won’t work. And unfortunately for us she’s one of those...but we can use other methods to get her to do it.” You give Finn the ‘ok’ making him threaten Phasma with a blaster to disable the shields.

You keep looking over your shoulder towards the door, afraid that at any moment stormtroopers could burst through the door or for...Kylo to walk in. When you had entered this snowy planet you had felt his presence and you knew he felt yours and mostly likely your fathers too, so that made you extremely cautious. You had to keep your guard up at all times knowing that at any moment he could appear. But walking among the familiarity of these halls made it hard to do so.

This was the first time you had been inside a first order location since you had escaped and you had no plans on returning but that obviously didn’t work out. Being here just brought memories you had been trying to keep buried, but the longer you were here the more memories resurfaced.

Once you hear the beeping signifying that the shields were down you pull your attention back to the room. Immediately rolling your eyes at Phasma’s threats only making your father ask about a garbage chute to push her in, and that making you get a better idea on how to get rid of her.

“Trash compactor?” Your father and you suggest at same time making Finn smile and nod smugly.

“Yeah. There is.”

-

As you turn the corner you all come to a halting stop as a girl almost runs into you. Without a second thought and out of pure instinct you ignite your lightsabers. Her eyes go wide at the sight of the two threatening blades inches from her face also making her raise her blaster to aiming at you.

“No! No! That’s Rey! That’s Rey!” Finn warns with worry in his tone.

“I’m sorry!” You tell her with apologetic eyes as you deactivate your lightsabers and lower your arms down.

“It’s fine.” She assures you as she lowers her weapon.

You begin to examine her upon having an immediate weird feeling about her; she’s a stranger to you only have known her by Finn mentioning her and seeing her unconscious in your brothers arms; but as she stood here you felt as if you’ve known her already. She’s a stranger yet at the same it doesn’t seem like she’s one, It’s like you’ve seen her before. You take a couple seconds as you search your feelings finally sensing it. Her force sensitivity. 

But why do I feel so connected to her? You question yourself knowing that in order to have a connection with someone you have to build it up with time but this time you immediately felt it. How? Why?

“I’m Rey.” She introduces herself to you making you break away from your stupor. You notice that she also has a confused and weird look upon seeing you, she also felt in a lot of ways connected to you and like she’s known you all her life when in fact you’ve barely met.

“Y/N. Y/N Solo.” You respond with a smile much like the one she had, before she could ask any further questions to you, Finn interrupted with concerning questions regarding her.

-

“They’re in trouble. We can’t leave. My friends got a bag full of explosives. Let’s use them.” You hear your father say as you look up at the sky with a worried look.

“I’ll find a TIE and help Poe and the rest of the squadron from up there.” You mumble barely audible but something your father caught.

“You sure?” He asked turning to you.

You nod with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be better help up there....I’ll see you all back at base.”

You then hurry and go find a nearby hanger and when you finally run into one you come to a complete stop. Your eyes widen and bright smile erupts through your lips. “YES!” You shout, shooting your hands up in excitement as you run into your TIE silencer, the one you had left when you had made your hasty escape on another fighter.

“I’m so glad to see you! I missed you!” You say to your TIE as if it could respond to you.

You’re surprised and glad that your TIE Silencer was here, half expecting it to be scrapped for parts or given to someone else, but no, it was here and you were happy it was. You had rebuilt that fighter with your own hands so many times. You hastily climb on and can’t erase the happy smile from your face, it’s the only thing you have missed about the first order.

Once you’re starting it up you throw your head up to see the commotion that was beginning to start outside your ship. Stormtroopers begin shooting at your ship to try and stop you, but you’re quick and manage to blast them sending them flying off all over the hanger. Before more can come you finally fly up into the sky immediately having to shoot down a TIE, mostly likely making the other fighters in other TIE’s confused on why one of their own was attacking their own fighters. Before anything could or anyone could shoot you down you punch in a couple buttons and gain access to the resistance comms.

“Miss me?” You announce smugly.

“Solo? Is that you?!” You hear jessika’s familiar voice irrupt through your comm.

“The one and only—wait..scratch that...I’m not the only Solo...here...yeah it’s me, Y/N.” Before you could say anything you pause and swerve an incoming blast before shooting down another TIE, making you aware that they had caught on to you. “I am currently in the only TIE silencer out here so I should stick out like a sore thumb but either way be wary and don’t shoot me down.”

“Copy that Princess, glad to have you in the sky.” You hear Poe’s familiar voice say happily making you practically hear his smile through the comm.

“You know me, couldn’t miss a good fight in the sky.”

You maneuver through the sky trying to shoot down and avoid incoming blasts and TIE’S all while also helping the squadron members to try and avoid them being shot down.

“You got three on your back, and three flying directly towards you, Solo! They must really hate you.” Snap warns making you quickly push down letting the first two TIES crash into one another before the other four follow behind you.

Perfect. You thought with a smirk before pulling up again and turning before doing a spin trick shooting them all down.

“Nice one Solo!” Jessika congratulated you.

You smile wider at her compliment. “Poe Dameron, who? Never heard of him. I’m the best pilot the resistance has seen in this ship.” You joke knowing that had caused laughs from the other pilots.

“Ha, you’re funny. We can test that theory out, Princess.” Poe says smugly.

“Be prepared to lose. It won’t be like last time, this time you’re racing against my silencer. I’ll beat you this—” your words come to a sudden stop and your smile fades, you slowly cut off the comm as you begin to feel this pain.

Theirs dull pain growing on your chest slowly growing more and more intense by the second. You begin to feel an emptiness, a coldness. You feel time slow down and your surroundings blend into darkness, as you saw it and felt it clearly you knew what had happened...he died....your father had died.

You could feel your heart shatter in your chest, their was a mind numbing pain, a pain you’ve never felt before, a pain you thought was impossible to feel.

Your lip began to tremble and the grip on your stirring wheel loosen, you freeze where you sit as you feel your chest tighten with so much emotion until you let it out. “Ahhhhhh! NO! NO! NO!.....Please no!” You shout so loud you swear starkiller base can hear you.

he died...he’s gone. You felt nothing but a void. What hurt the most was not knowing what had happened, knowing that you mostly likely could’ve saved him; But you didn’t, that’s what hurt you the most.

“Y/N! Y/N...”

“Y/N, I already told you why you have to go—”

“No! I don’t want to go!” You interrupt your dad making you cross your arms over your chest and stomp your foot.

“You said you were excited to go with your uncle Luke.”

“Not anymore. Why can’t you come? Why can’t you and mom come with Ben and me?” You pout making your dad sigh loudly.

“Look, we’ll see each other again, I promise you.” He tries to assures you, only making you furrow your eyebrows in anger and turn away from him. “Come on, don’t be mad with me.”

Angry and sad tears slip from your eyes. You had felt joy when you first heard you were going to train with your uncle Luke alongside Ben, but as the day to leave arrived the excitement completely disappeared. The thought of leaving home, leaving your mom, especially your dad hurt you to the core. Your dad and you were close, you loved him with your whole heart just like he did. You two shared a bond; a bond you had overheard him say that he thought he wasnt going to share with you or Ben since he lacked the ability to use the force like your mother. But as time passed you and him bonded; everywhere he went a little girl followed.

He kneeled down to be at your level, lightly grabbing your arms and turned you to face him. “You look just like your mom when you get mad, you know that?” He chuckles at his own comment, he had expected you to laugh but your face expression remained the same. He cups your cheek, wiping the tears from your face and smiling before he pulls out something from his back. Your eyes flicker to the object in his hand realizing that it’s his blaster.

“This is for you, your uncle Lando gave Ben one, I thought it would be fair if I gave you one too....I wanted to give it to you when you were older but I think now is the perfect time.” He explains making your face soften. He grabs your hand and once he places it on your palm, he closes it reassuring your grip on the weapon. “You take this with you everywhere, you might have one of those fancy lightsabers later on but a blaster by your side-”

“Is never a bad idea.” You finish, sniffling as a smile tugged at the corner of your lips making him smile proudly.

“You got it. Everywhere you take this it’s like you’ll have a piece of me with you.”

You can’t help but beam up at him at the sound of his words.

“Theirs that smile I love.” He says as he as places a light kiss your forehead. You then jump and wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you dad.”

“I know.”

“I’m losing you! Y/N! You’ve got pull up! Are you okay?!” The sound of Poe’s urgent voice through the comm pulls you back from your stupor, all you wanted to do now was curl into yourself, cry until you couldn’t no more but you couldn't, you still had to fight this fight.

You slowly reach for the button of the comm, swallowing thickly before coming up with a response.

“...yeah...I’m fine..”

.

.

.

Tagged- @treblebeth , @mcrvellouslystcrk , @themythicallifeofesmerelda , @thescarletknight2014 , @sfnari , @bitch-imma-head-out , @arsonistvoyager , @chloe-skywalker , @emotionalcal , @theholycakehole , @justxriot , @stvrdustalexx , @the-dream-catch3r , @theoralpha , @sleepyblossom , @basically-hayley , @iamaunicorn4704 , @sneekygeek , @carisiswaistcoat , @creativelyquestioninglife , @daniellajocelyn , @wnygirl2012 , @imjusttryingtocatchavibe , @holy-kylo-stars , @patdsinner33 , @avmps , @xxrouge-lexxx , @x-thunderbird-x , @kaelyn-lobrutto24

#starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars the force awakens #star wars force awakens #star wars imagines #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe imagines #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron imagines #finn #finn star wars #rey #chewbacca #han solo #phasma #jessika pava #temmin wexley #Blinded #fanfiction

[essays-for-breakfast]

One Vow

Melizabeth Week Day 6: Promise/Devotion

Promises. At this point, Meliodas had made and broken so many he had lost count. He had promised Hawk to pick out the empty bottles and store them somewhere other than the top of the counter. He had promised Ban another round of their ongoing arm-wrestling competition to give him the chance to make up for his last defeat. He had promised Merlin to keep that tiny creature with an appetite for scorched fingers in her lab alive while she visited some far off library. Of course, he had failed all of them, so broken pledges were part of the course with him.

Hawk had no reason to be surprised that Meliodas had, in fact, not practiced his cooking skills.

“You can’t tell me all of this is just lack of talent,” the loudmouthed swine yelled and pointed accusingly at the food in front of him with his hooves. Meliodas considered adding pig feet to the menu of his tavern. “You are nothing but a lazy pig, you could do better if you tried! Or you want to poison me with your terrible scraps.”

“That isn’t scraps,” Meliodas said and pulled the plate of baked carrots and potatoes out of Hawk’s reach.

“Which only proves my point. How are we supposed to attract customers when they die of disgust as soon as they eat a spoonful of that?”

“Well, we have a travelling tavern, so I only need to lure them with the smell of the food once. Never said I wanted long-lasting relationships with the drunk folk you call customers. Besides, I heard roasted bacon is really popular these days. Fits great with Aberdeen Ale.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes which only made the fat in his cheeks more alluring. A good slate of pig cheek – not even Meliodas’ lack of skills with a frying pan could ruin that image. “The ground on which this establishment stands belongs to me. You would have long starved if it weren’t for my generosity. And just so that we’re clear, Mama will eat you if you try anything funny.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

The floor stopped swaying as Mama Hawk halted at their destination on the hill outside the next town, only to tilt as she dug herself into the ground to create the illusion of a normal tavern that had been built from the ground up overnight. Meliodas grabbed Hawk by his ears to prevent him from skidding through the room like last time before he marched into the kitchen to prepare for the first customers.

The shoebox of a room in the back of the circular building showed all the signs of a tavern without any employees – apart from the fund manager who happened to be an excessively talkative pig. Sacks and caskets with ingrediencies stacked on every surface and most of the floor, and the mix of plates without one to match another towered on the workbench next to the sink. Maybe before his next stop, Meliodas would find the time to furnish a new cupboard.

He pried a fork from the basket in the corner and took a bite of the meal Hawk had assaulted with words. Awful. Even worse than how Hawk had described the taste. With a frustrated sigh on his lips, Meliodas showed the remains into Hawks bowl on the floor and frisbeed the plate onto the top of the stack of its mismatched brothers where it landed with an indignant clatter. Where was Ban, that criminal, when he needed him?

The first guest dribbled into the tavern, and Meliodas greeted them with a cheerful grin and a tray of ale mugs. From the looks of it, business would run well today, nothing to worry about. Some of the folks brave enough to order food accused him of poisoning – enough to make Hawk raise a smug eyebrow –, but another serving of ale appeased them.

Meliodas was about to mark this day as the best one in a while, when chatter about a rusty knight on the lookout for the Seven Deadly Sins caught his attention. Sure, whenever season was dry and people had nothing to gush about, the old stories about the Sins resurfaced with more ghastly details than the previous year, but no one had been idiotic enough to look for them until now. And as if the mention had summoned a ghost onto Meliodas porch, a knight clad in full armor stepped through the door and rattled, “The Seven Deadly Sins…”

Now that was interesting.

But Meliodas’ clientele viewed the situation a tad differently, screamed at the top of their lungs, and made a run for the door faster than the eye could see. In no time, Meliodas was left alone with the Rust Knight swaying back and forth like a drunkard. He sighed. Ghost apparitions were bad for business; he wouldn’t sell a single mug of ale in this town as soon as word spread about the supposed murder knight who searched for the even more murderous Seven Deadly Sins.

Well, now that the Rust Knight had found its way into his tavern, least Meliodas could do was find out why he was looking for him. “Who’re you?” he asked.

As an answer, the knight reeled back and crashed on the stone tiles with a rumble loud enough to alert every Holy Knight in the kingdom. The knight’s helmet rolled under a nearby table to reveal its owner’s identity…

…No, no, it couldn’t be, what were the odds? She had no reason to travel this far away from the capital, no reason to search for him. His eyes must be playing a trick on him, the girl was nothing but an illusion created by his desperate mind because he hadn’t seen her in so long. And yet, the face under the helmet belonged to her without a sliver of doubt. Elizabeth.

She had grown since last Meliodas had seen her, her soft features had abandoned some of the childlike roundness in favor of maturity. He knew every inch of her soft skin, had stroked these cheeks in love and death with fingers bleeding, cold, or full of life. He had dreamed of these fine eyebrows and the small, adorable nose day in and day out, no matter if he was with her or without her. He had kissed these lips more times than he could count, kisses of innocent love, of unending devotion, of tear-filled goodbyes. These silver strands Meliodas had brushed a million times charmed her face as she lay on his tavern floor still as death if it weren’t for the faint sound of her heart.

She was a mirror image of the original Elizabeth in every sense of the word. They had all been, all 105 incarnations between then and now had dawned these features Meliodas couldn’t help but fall in love with, over and over again, until the day the earth would stand still. But for reasons Meliodas failed to find words for, this version seemed closer to the one he had first met during the fires of the Holy War. She was her, and yet she was all of them at once.

And before Meliodas had taken a single step forward to check her heartbeat, he had already lost himself in his love for Elizabeth for the 107th time.

But he had to make sure, convince even the last fiber of his heart that wanted to doubt she had returned to him this soon. Meliodas removed the pieces of armor until the girl wore nothing but her skintight black undergarment. And the more of her curves he revealed, the more Meliodas had to force the muscles of his face into an emotionless mask, even though his seven hearts beat against his ribcage with adoration and longing; he couldn’t allow Hawk to see how much their guest threw him off balance.

She felt too light, malnourished and defeated, in his arms when Meliodas carried her to the second floor and placed her into the cushions of his bed. Hawk struggled to climb the steps with his short legs and warned Meliodas to keep his hands to himself while he worked hard to heave his bacon up the stairs. But for just one moment, Meliodas was alone with her in this room that had felt lonely until she had come along to fill the emptiness with her presence.

He took Elizabeth’s hand and pressed the limp fingers against his cheek while he fought down the tears. The last remains of doubt had long faded, and her scent of summer days long gone filled his mind with regret strong enough to drown him.

“I let you down so many times,” Meliodas whispered. “How often did I promise you I wouldn’t let you go through this again? I promised to break the curse when I had the hope it could be done. I promised to love you even though the thought of losing you always remained in the back of my mind. I promised to stay away because of how much I hurt you – but it seems I failed. Again.”

Elizabeth remained motionless under his touch. If she died right here and now, the curse would still have triumphed. Meliodas would have been in lost in love while she died in front of him. The same way their shared path always ended.

“I promised to continue to fight and free you from this curse even if you die. But look at the failure I am, Elizabeth.” The chuckle escaping his lips sounded more like a desperate sob. “I will make it up to you. A thousand times over with interest. As long as you stand beside me and lend me your strength. I won’t fail you this time.”

Meliodas’ promises might have little value left with how often he had broken them, but he swore he wouldn’t allow this Elizabeth to die. He would learn all about her quirks, the things she enjoyed in life and the nightmares that kept her up at night, no matter what it would take. If he had to take Zeldris’ power, if he had to face the Ten Commandments all at once, if he had to wear the shackles of the Demon King, he would do all this and more.

This time, Elizabeth would live.

This time, Meliodas would keep his promise.

#melizabethweek #nnt fanfiction #my writing #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #fanfiction #meliodas #elizabeth #melizabeth

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “Eden and Goliath” (8)

Summary:It wasn’t a matter of whether or not they were worthy.It was a matter of who wanted it more. And now they were firmly on the wrong side of history. A history of unfathomable powers and all-knowing immortals, ancient forests and beasts, and a Stranger who wanted to challenge it all.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing,

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

---

Roman pressed his face into Eden’s back, greedy, sleep vaguely escaping him. 

There was talking in the next room.  

He sniffed, annoyed as the voices got louder, most likely an argument, before they stopped all at once. All of which sucked because he didn’t even get a chance to eavesdrop, but Roman couldn’t find it in him to care. Too warm, too tired, not his problem. 

When he resurfaced he grasped the blankets beside him, feeling them empty. 

“Ede...” He blinked, dread washing over him. His eyes snapping wide as he only saw Dot, she stood watching him, her mouth thin, like something made her sick. 

 “Where is he?” Roman demanded, the ground waking with a jolt. 

Dot’s expression got steely as the earth shook,  “Don’t.” She said simply, “Not unless you want this whole mountain falling on your head. Eden’s fine, He’s just starting his training…” she explained, “You however...are with me. Apparently you don’t like the Stranger that much, huh?”

“He’s a council member, of course I don’t like him,” Roman grumbled, wrapping himself in the shawl, “And I certainly don’t like him being alone with Eden.” 

“Understandable...but, the Stranger’s...different, though,” Dot said, “He cares. I’m not sure what he cares about, but he cares.” she waved, her face blossoming  all at once. Her smile was a bit too wide, but not entirely plastic,  “Anyway I’m here to help you.”

“With what?”

“Don’t play coy, Sanders,” She said, serious, “A little birdie told me everything you touch turns to ash. You’re overworking yourself.  If you continue using your magic like that, you’ll end up killing yourself before the curse does.” 

Roman closed his eyes, “I know.”  

He’d long since accepted it.

---

At first glance, the pitt was empty.

 It wasn’t a deep pitt, it’s walls were climbable, not particularly jagged, and it was clearly empty. This assumption can also be applied to the Stranger’s head, seeing as he presented said empty pitt with a flourish, as if it was a death sentence.  

The rules were relatively simple. 

 No attempting to kill it. (What “it” was Eden had no clue.)

 No attempting to escape the pitt before time is up. (Eden was given five hours.)

No more baseless assumptions. (Sure.) 

The Stranger  promised that they would work on conditioning, but now the Stranger needed test drive Eden’s magic to see what type they will be working on. The Stranger apparently had an idea of the type, but he didn’t seem inclined to share. 

So Eden was dropped in an empty pitt, tired, cold, and vaguely pissed off. 

---

Thirty minutes have passed and Eden can confirm that pitt was not in fact empty. It was incredibly not empty and whatever was fucking in it was relentless. 

Every time Eden’s dress had caught the light, the creature was on him, it's hot breath tearing after Eden in a soundless rage. Every time Eden shuddered, the tell-tell crunching of gravell followed. Fun times. 

As if to further emphasis this point, the creature slammed into Eden’s back. Scales rippled down his spine as he stumbled and ate stone. 

Blood filled his mouth, heady. He scrambled up, the haunting sizzle of the creatures acid filled his nose. He assessed the situation. He assessed he was going to fucking die-- 

He inhaled sharply, wiping his mouth. 

Those thoughts won’t help anyone. 

He clearly wasn’t meant to take the hits the entire time. While his scales were okay in regards to protecting his actual skin, after the fifth or so time being slammed into the ground Eden doubts that’s their main use.

 His eyes darted, watching the gravel crunch  as the monster started slinking towards him again. Great, so he just had to figure out their primary use and hope it’s enough to stop this madness. Fantastic. 

This is fine. He needed to think. It isn’t combative, but defensive. The Stranger obviously thinks it would be useful in this situation where the creature mainly uses sight to track prey. 

So Eden didn’t need to worry about covering up his smell or being quiet, he needed to….

Disappear. 

---

 “I hate it,” Roman glared holes into the dirt in front of him, pushing it away.

Dot made a confused-esq chittering sound, peering over his shoulder, “Darling, this is the easiest possible thing you learn,” she said, waving her hand over the dirt--- drooping blooms sprouting and shriveling  all within a moment, “You should’ve learned this as a kid.”

“I wasn’t exactly the smartest.” Roman crossed his arms. He always ended up killing them or taking so long that the instructor or Remus did it for him out of pity. 

Dot looked at him considering, “This doesn’t mean you’re not smart.” she said without hesitation, “You  have a strong amount of persuasion over the earth. Too much, in-fact.” she said, pushing the dirt pile in front of him again, “You need practice.”

“We’ll be here forever,” Roman groaned. 

Dot was unbothered, tapping the pile again, “I still have to make your medicines, so we have time.” she said, her doe eyes making him feel exposed, but willing. 

So Roman tried again.

 And again, and again, and again. 

---

 Eden was cornered. 

 His scales covered every inch of himself, but he couldn’t manage to let himself disappear. No, he knew he could. In fact he was painfully aware of how easily he could make himself disappear. The memory was so strong, it was intrinsic. As if he could feel his mom guiding his hands, telling him how to slip away, how to hold his tongue, how to not get--

It wasn’t anything he’s done before, physically. 

But he knew he could do it. 

He really didn’t want to, it felt like he was crossing a line, accepting--

It was absurd. He could die or worse, the Stranger would drop training all together. Drop him back in that little village. But Eden felt like he was already there. He could feel their stares on him, wanting him to just die already. Swinging their lanterns, screaming their curses, their accusations. His “family” in line to watch the bloodbath, not a prayer on their lips. 

All he could think of was his first memory of his mother begging his “family” to take her in, to treat her like nothing.  As if their scraps were salvation. 

Eden spat the blood from his mouth. 

He spat on the memories, he spat on their scraps. 

He wanted more. 

He needed to focus, the creature was looming over him, saliva stinging his face. The Stranger nowhere in sight. He needed to not fucking die and he certainly didn’t want the Stranger’s pity.  He needed to Disappear, disappear, disappear, dissap--

He looked up, the shadow of the beast retreating to it’s cave. 

Eden looked at himself and saw nothing. 

---

“You seem to be overthinking the technical parts and while they’re necessary, they’re not everything. Your connection with the Goddess is everything and that isn’t a diagram you can replicate,  ”  Dot’s advice echoed, “Try and focus on a memory or an emotion. Anything to make it personal.” 

“I am focusing on a memory,” Roman grumbled, dirt crumpling into ash again. 

“A positive memory, dear.” Dot scolded, “If not that try a positive emotion. You’re sensitive, so the bond is sensitive. It won’t make any sense to be callous---gentle, darling, gentle…” 

-

Roman was coaxing a thin stem to grow, when he heard footsteps and the sharp grumbling of “Put me down-- I can walk myself you--.” in the home. 

He spun around, “Eden!” he beamed, as he ran to meet him. 

Eden resembled every definition of agitated and from the looks of it, he had every right to. His dress was melted at the edges, gouges littering his skin where his scales didn’t, and half of  his hair was hanging in damaged threads as if it had been hastily cut or, rather, burned to ear length. 

“How did it go..?’ Roman asked, not quite sure what to fret over first. 

Eden was on the verge of snarling at this point, “What do you think you--” his sharp face, softened. Eyes lost somewhere past Roman. 

Roman glanced over his shoulder.

Oh.

There was Dot of course, her smug face sliding right into horrified once she got a good look at Eden. And the room… the room was alive in every sense of the word. Petals drifting from the ceiling in a cascade of colors and the struggling plant from earlier was bursting from it’s pot,  petals a wide, ivory dripping with gold.

“Beautiful…” Eden was breathless.

 Some petals drifting into Eden’s hair among the charred pieces and he plucked them up with a smile. It was a small smile. A smile someone gives when they have nothing else to give. A smile someone gives between whispers, or slides into the palm of your hand when no one else was looking. 

It was barely there, but for Roman it meant the world. 

#Roceit #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #sanders sides #ts sides #ts roman #ts deceit #ts roceit #Sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #Winners Among the Losing

[littlehollyleaf]

why did Ed kill Penn?

I’ve been thinking about this A LOT since 508, as well as the fantastic way Penn and Eddie and their respective relationships with Oswald, and the identity issues caused by their relationship with Oswald, were mirrored in the episode

and I absolutely concur with the general fandom reading of JEALOUSY on Ed’s part (something similar to his former rivalry with Butch resurfacing maybe, but also possibly a match to Ozzie’s killing of Isabella)

I also think there’s something to be said for the idea that Ed honestly was acting out of a sense of self preservation (or Oswald preservation :p) - recognising, from personal experience of a fractured personality, that destroying the puppet/dummy had NOT made Penn safe and that he was likely to continue to be a threat to himself and Oswald in the future if left alive

but I feel like you can argue for something DEEPER at play as well relating to Penn and Eddie’s mirroring/similarities and Eddie’s compulsions

because it seems to me like Penn’s confrontation with Oswald was a bit of a replay of Ed and Ozzie’s infamous first Dock’s Scene -

we have Ozzie telling them both to ‘listen’ and going on to express concern over the mental/emotional influence on them killing him will have -

“you need to listen to me when I tell you by doing this it will change you”

“Arthur, I want you to listen to what I’m saying - you accuse me of manipulating you by what about him? I never asked you to kill anybody”

then we have Ozzie appealing to the emotional connection between him and the others (as he perceives it) and literally reaching out -

“this will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love”

“think of everything that we went through together - Sofia Falcone, getting cut off from the mainland, starving!”

both assertions that Ed and Penn/Scarface are quick to shoot down as inaccurate -

“I don’t love you”

“You mean Penn was starving!”

this is followed by Ed and Penn both raging for a bit, I’ll just paraphrase - you killed Isabella so I wanted you to suffer and now you need to die, you gave your dog steak while I ate scraps!! 

there’s a little addition at the docks where Oswald interrupts Ed to say they need each other and ‘you can’t have one without the other’

but the next comparable part as I see it is how after being raged at Ozzie responds in kind by getting angry himself -

“When I met you, you were a nervous, jittery loser! You were nothing! I created Edward Nygma”

“I welcomed you into my home!”

and in 508 it’s at this point we get a quick reaction shot of Ed (the first since this exchange between Ozzie and Penn started) and that interests me -

he turns to glance first at Oswald and then at Penn, and I know plot-wise he’s looking for an opening to set off the sonar machine as a distraction (or whatever he did to make that high pitched noise), but... 

after all the above similarities, I wonder if this shot is doubling up as a indicator that Ed is clocking just how similar Penn’s situation is to his own past with Oswald (esp. since it’s the line ‘I welcomed you into my home’ that makes him look - since that is exactly what Oswald did for him prior to Isabella ofc) 

if so, I think Ed may also be noting (with, perhaps, a touch of exasperation/disapproval) that Ozzie is reacting to Penn’s legitimate anger and pain in the same dismissive way Ed felt HIS anger and pain over Isabella was treated... meaning that quick glance at Penn could, just maybe, be one of understanding... (maybe, possibly, also sympathy?)... 

and in understanding Penn’s current situation as a match to his past Ed could feasibly have been calculating the most likely direction the exchange was about to take ie. Ozzie’s angry words and dismissive attitude pushing Penn into going through with shooting him, as happened with Ed at the docks

EXCEPT THIS TIME, instead of being dismissive and belittling, OZZIE GOES COMPLETELY OFF SCRIPT -

“And yes, I was not a good friend”

no insults 

no insisting on his superiority

instead he offers the opposite - he shows Penn RESPECT by acknowledging that he treated him badly and that the anger and pain Penn feels is therefore valid

and he doesn’t stop there but goes on to include Ed in this moment of humility -

“To you, or anyone”

and he really REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THAT - Ed was already on side and in the middle of a plan to save them both, so it’s not like Ozzie needed to butter him up or anything

no, this was presented as a genuine moment of growth I think

this was Ozzie given a ‘do over’ of sorts (oooh maybe kinda like Selina got with Jeremiah’s attempt to recreate the Wayne murder?)

with Penn he is faced with a similar situation as he had once been in with Ed and THIS TIME he shows he has grown enough to be able to acknowledge his faults and treat the other person with respect 

AND is able to retrospectively do this with Ed himself at the same time - finally giving Ed what he’d been lacking back at the docks ie. acknowledgement that his behaviour (killing Isabella) had hurt Ed, showing he accepted that hurt as valid and thus accepted Ed, as a person, as valid

which is part of why Ed just LOSES IT at that point I think -

it’s everything he didn’t know he needed! <3

the comparisons continue with Ozzie talking about how he ‘sees’ Ed and Penn -

“I am the only one in the world who truly sees you as you are. Who you could still become”

“I saw you for what you are and I valued that”

and this makes both Ed and Penn falter a moment -

but ultimately stick to their resolve -

“I loved her Oswald. And you killed her” [bang!]

“You’re a liar and a thief. All you do is take, take, take! And you never give anything. You worked me to the bone. Forced me to be your puppet. Well no more. You hear me? No more.”

as Penn advances on Oswald, clearly ready to shoot him now, we get one last reaction shot from Ed -

and, idk... I think you can read bit of AFFINITY in Ed here? He’s absolutely locked on to Penn and I can imagine him thinking ‘god yes, I remember how that felt’ - quickly followed up by ‘shit, I know what happens next!’ as he recognises that Penn has reached a point where his compulsion to shoot Oswald can no longer be reasoned with

but maybe there’s also a little bit of - ‘no don’t do it!’ in Ed’s expression? or perhaps - ‘what are you doing? he admitted his fault, you don’t have to go through with this, not like I did!’

then ofc Ed DASHES over to activate his machine, saving Oswald’s life

Penn is subdued

but Ed shoots him anyway, cold and calculated

which brings us back to - why?

well, I put forward that it’s partly because of the way the whole confrontation became a repetition, or return to, or ‘do-over’ of that first docks scene

see, throughout the show we’ve seen various ways in which Ed finds significance in repetition eg. taking Oz back to the docks to kill him a second time, repeating the same 3 riddles with different academics in order to get a satisfactory answer, even hooking up with Isabella was a ‘second chance’ at what he had with Kristen and so on (we even see it in small things like leaving Oswald a second origami penguin at Arkham)

if we assume Ed came to feel like he WAS reliving/repeating the past here, then I feel that because Ozzie did something different Ed would have therefore considered himself ‘free’ to do the same

and that difference was him FORGIVING Oswald for his betrayal in killing Isabella, or at least MOVING ON from it

so, basically, I’m thinking that in Ed’s mind the whole scenario with Penn became an opportunity to ‘reset’ his and Oswald’s relationship back to the point before it fell apart and have it play out better - ie. with Ozzie showing remorse for the pain he’d caused (if not outright apologising) and with him forgiving Ozzie and the two of them remaining friends and moving on together

BUT

for Ed, I think that meant the experience and it’s revelations and conclusion became no longer about or anything to do with Penn at all, it became SOLELY ABOUT HIM AND OSWALD

because it was about replaying THEIR past and reshaping THEIR relationship

meaning that from the moment Ozzie ‘flipped the script’ and gave Ed that chance to restore their relationship, Penn became superfluous

or worse, an impediment - because if Penn went on to forgive Oswald, as he seemed to after the puppet was destroyed, and Oswald went on to welcome him back into his life, then I imagine to Ed that risked the whole thing becoming just about Oswald and Penn after all, and the important shift in Ed and Oswald’s relationship, the ‘reset’ of it back to them being proper friends again, might no longer have applied

ergo, removing Penn was simply the necessary/logical thing to do, because he didn’t belong in the picture/narrative Ed had crafted - he’d been a means to an end and with the end reached his purpose was over

y/n/m?

I mean... I guess this is just a fancy way of reinforcing the ‘jealousy’ reading :p because it’s Ed muscling Penn out and being all - yeah, sorry, but no, this is actually about Oswald and ME, not you

but I just liked the idea of Ed’s compulsive side being ‘activated’ by all the parallels/mirrors!

#gotham: nothing's shocking #a few thinky thoughts I had buzzing around and needed to jot down to shut them up #(I've got a bit too into this screenshot thing :p) #this might be nonsense it's v. late/early now so it's hard to tell! #character study: edward

[resetmypatientviolence]

I Think (Drake x MC x [Liam])

I Think– Part 15 of “Supposed To Be”

Part 1: Not Yet Part 2: Wait Part 3: Confused Part 4: Didn’t (NSFW) Part 5: I’m Pregnant Part 6: Choice (NSFW) Part 7: Future (NSFW) Part 8: Fight Part 9: Show (NSFW), Part 10: It’s Yours, Part 11: Please, Part 12: How, Part 13.1: Queen (NSFW) 13.2: Queen (NSFW-ish), Part 14: Ready

Word count: 5,089 Pairing: Drake x Jaela x [Liam]

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Language; Sensitive topics regarding pregnancy 

Summary: After the revelation that Jaela doesn’t want the baby, her and Liam need to figure out the next steps in regards to their accidental pregnancy-- no matter how painful the conversation is, all cards laid on the table.

Suggested Song Accompaniment: To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra

Notes: This is an intensely emotional and raw and real chapter in regards to the options they will explore about the pregnancy. This is another reminder that I’ve always sought for this story to be real and honest. And how Jaela feels is uniquely her own experience, as is every pregnancy to a woman, and she shoudn’t be forced to feel only one thing. This is isn’t how life works, and this series has always explored that.

*There is a cut, but it’s tagged as Long Post for anybody on mobile.

Tag List: @boneandfur, @mariawalkerwrites, @ninamckenzie22, @hhiggs, @drakesfiance, @umccall71, @mrswalkerreynolds, @youwontlikewherewewillgo, @mfackenthal, @zarina-x-zig, @ahteneah, @tmarie82, @viktoriapetit, @heatherfilliez, @bobasheebaby, @trr-fangirl, @crookedslimecreatorpasta, @hamulau, @bruteforcebears @never-ending-choices

“Jaela, you’re just saying that because—”

 “But I’m not,” she cried, releasing his arms, stepping back and shaking her head. Liam, oh Liam—he looked so confused and scared, too. But also… like he was looking at her if she was a completely different person, somebody he didn’t know. Somebody he didn’t love so completely for the past year. “I don’t want this, Liam. Please believe me.”

 His lip trembled before he clenched his jaw. “How can you not, Jaela? It’s our baby. You’re the mother… you-you’d just abandon it like it meant nothing?”

 Tears, fresh—god, when would they stop?—resurfaced and god, she didn’t want those. No, no more tears. She had to… to be better—but how could she right now, with Liam looking at her like that? Like she was a stranger, pleading to a king for a scrap of something, anything?

 What was she pleading for, exactly?

 “Liam,” she whispered, gripping Drake’s shirt. “I can feel like that because… because I’m the one carrying it. I’m allowed to feel like I do. I’m not ready for a baby, Liam, and I think realizing that now is better than letting them suffer when I can’t be the mother they deserve.”

 Liam shut his eyes, running a hand along his jaw, the room tense and silent for a minute, the two at a stalemate. Jaela chewed on her lip, wiping away the tears that stained Drake’s denim, splotches of dark blue on the sleeves. “Jaela… nobody’s ready for a baby,” he said, slowly, opening his eyes. “I’m not. I know you’re not. But… we have time.” He didn’t get it, did he? And… how could he? He wasn’t the one standing in an open room feeling like a caged animal, desperately trying to get out of a cage that grew smaller and smaller with every passing, agonizing second, desperation rising without relent. She, a prisoner to her own body. “We can, or just you, if you want, can talk to somebody and they can help—”

 “I know nobody’s ready, Liam. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child lost in a store, just needing somebody to hold my hand.” Jaela leaned against the desk, glancing down to that sonogram, wincing. How could something within her seem so foreign? She looked back to him, jaw set. “How I feel… this isn’t a normal kind of not feeling ready, ones where you’re worried about if you’ll ever sleep again, have enough diapers, or if you can handle somebody being completely dependent on you. This… this is me just not being fucking ready for this.”

 Liam sighed, flicking his gaze away from her. “You’re twenty-five, Jaela. This isn’t a teenage pregnancy. You can handle—”

 “So?” she snapped, face warm. “What does my age have to do with anything? You want to know how I feel, the truth, and I’m telling you right now on the first try. I’m not ready for a baby and I’m terrified, I’m so fucking scared of it. And for it, too.” His eyes flashed, hand curling into a fist. “Look at the damn country right now, you really think I want to be a mother thinking that somebody’s going to shoot me every time I step outside? Or hell, now I’ll be a bigger target, the pregnant Duchess, what a great way to break you and bring down the monarchy, no?”

 It was Liam’s turn to turn away from her, gripping his tie and loosening it, frowning, the lines on his face deep. “I don’t like this idea, but we can prevent that, you know.” A pause.

“You can stay in the palace until the—”

 Jaela’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Are you seriously suggesting you keep me locked up in the palace for another seven months?” He couldn’t be serious. What had gotten into him? You, you idiot. You did this to him. She hit the desk and he turned back to her, eyes narrowed. “You can’t do that to me. Why do you think I didn’t want to be Queen, Liam? I can’t stay here being a fucking incubator for something I’ve failed over and over again for weeks, before they’re even a real human yet.”

 Something in his eyes softened, but only for a moment, Liam’s expression hardening again. He deserved so much more than her. Why couldn’t he have fallen for somebody else, anybody else? Because, he wanted the freedom you have with Drake, too. “If you’re concerned about the safety of the baby and yourself, it might be the only option. I’m sure we can hide the pregnancy from the public for most of it, until we can’t. It wouldn’t be seven months, Jaela. You’ll have your own space here and then… then we can raise them together. I’ll be there as much as I can for them, and you.”

 Did he not get the point? The entire point of why she was feeling like she did? Clicking her tongue, shaking her head, she returned to the couch, head in hands, and sick with the thought that Liam thought she could handle this, handle being a mother, even when she told him that she couldn’t. That she wasn’t ready. “Liam,” she muttered, raising her head. “You don’t get what I’m saying. I’m saying I’m not ready to be a mother. Yes, some of it is because I… I am concerned about bringing a child into the world where both parents are in danger… but Liam… I’m telling you I can’t raise this child. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want this. I’d be out of its life.”

 Why was the truth, the one thing that was supposed to set a person free, always the hardest to handle? Did she imagine that when—and if—she was pregnant, she’d think she’d abandon her child? No, never. She didn’t want to be like her parents… but here she was, exactly like them. “You’re just saying that because you’re stressed, Jaela.” Despite their conflict, Liam sat next to her, shoulders brushing. Genuine concern was laced in his voice, so gentle, but it brought no ease to her.

 “No, I’m not, Liam.” Gazes matching, she sighed, rubbing a temple. “I’ve already failed them. And I’m going to continue to do so.”’

 “Jaela, you didn’t mean to—”

 “But I did. I mean, not intentionally, but I ignored it. Ignored all the signs that said I was pregnant until I couldn’t… maybe… I don’t know… hoping it would all go away on its own.” Liam winced and she frowned. “Not-not like that but just that I was being crazy.”

 “You didn’t mean to hurt or ignore them, you were just in denial. But now you know. Now you can start—”

 “But I did on both accounts, Liam. That’s not… that’s not the kind of mother I wanted to be, if I even wanted a child.” Jaela paused, taking a deep breath, staring at the floor. “I… I told myself that I’d be there for them from day one. Do you understand how fucking guilty I feel that I haven’t been there for them, already? How much I’ve hurt them? How they started their… life, or whatever, contained within a body that didn’t give a fuck about taking care of them? I… it’s nearly unbearable. I’d always thought I’d be ready as I could because… because I couldn’t turn into my parents, Liam. I couldn’t be them.”

 “You… you’ve never told me about you parents, Jaela. So I don’t get what you mean.”

“There’s a reason for that,” she whispered, looking at him, clicking her nails together, eyes bloodshot and puffy, emotions rubbed raw. “They’re probably why I acted like I did, once I… suspected and hoped it wouldn’t happen. And why I feel like I do now, hopeless and lost and too scared to handle being a mother right now.”

 Liam’s lips twitched. “What did they…?”

 Sure, she’d tell Liam and Drake and Hana and Maxwell about her past one day. But did she want it to be today? And like this? Trying to explain to Liam why she couldn’t be a mother because of her shitty life before she left? No. But, life had turned upside down from one—many—of her mistakes. “They weren’t ready for me, to be parents, Liam.”

 Liam exhaled, hands on his knees. “Did… did they give you up for adoption?”

“If only,” she muttered, looking away. Goddamn. She didn’t want to tell him about this, let alone like this, a woman caught like a deer in headlights, forced to figure out why she didn’t want to have a child with a King of a country, a King that could give her everything… everything she didn’t want. A King who didn’t deserve her, but yet still wanted her.

“Jaela,” Liam began, slowly. “You… you need to talk to me. If you can’t… then we can later but this conversation is long overdue. It should have been happening the moment you thought you were pregnant, not now, not when Cordonia is falling apart, Drake is dying, and when you’re almost out of a trimester.”

 Right, as always. God, he was something special. Jaela matched his gaze, rubbing her hands together. “They weren’t ready for me. They only cared about themselves. I was in and out of foster homes until… until I was too old for the system to give a fuck about me.”

 “Jaela… I’m sorry,” he said, as they all did. Jaela’s lip twitched. It was never… too bad. But enough. “Did you ever see them? Your parents?”

 She nodded. “Oh, always. It was never too long. They… they said they got their lives together, a life where I could belong—only for a few months, maybe, and then it would be right back to… to them putting themselves first and me to fend for myself. Once I graduated, I got the fuck out of there and never looked back. I… I haven’t contacted them since,” she said, wincing at the memories. The nights alone. The days alone, parents doing god knows what, the hunger, the nights they’d come back at four, five am, still drunk or…. Jaela sighed, gripping her knees, silent tears falling. Liam tentatively touched her back.

 “I’m sorry, Jaela. I had no idea.”

 “It’s okay,” she said standing up, arms crossed and pacing.

 Liam followed suit. “But you’re not them. I don’t know who they are and I know you’re not—”

 “If I’m already telling you I don’t want this baby, then I’m halfway there to being them, Liam. If I—if I’m not feeling any form of happiness from this pregnancy—and don’t say it’s because I didn’t know about it when I just denied this fetus’s existence for weeks—then how do you expect me to completely turn this off, even if I try to pretend I’m happy? I… I can’t, Liam. And… I’ve told you what I don’t want. I don’t want this baby, I don’t want to be a mother. So… what are we going to do about this?”

 When Jaela spoke, she stood and faced away from him, tugging on the end of her hair. Liam gulped. “Well… I could raise them on my own,” he whispered, the hurt evident. Did she expect anything less? Liam’s perfect family, crumbling before him because she… she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Jaela shook her head, still not facing him, Liam feeling a mile apart.

 “And how would that work, exactly?”

 “You keep the pregnancy a secret,” he said, pacing again, shoes loud in the still office, only containing their two stiff bodies. “Then… you leave. You can still be a Duchess just… I’ll take care of them and we… we can pretend that it was somebody random, or something, and nobody has to know that you were the mother.”

 Jaela laughed, it harsh. It wasn’t funny. Lord knows it wasn’t funny. But she turned, shaking her head. “In case you haven’t noticed, Liam, there’s not many women in Cordonia who look like me.” Liam grimaced. “So, you’d pass the baby off as a whore’s child—like anybody would believe that— and leave your legacy as the King with the child of whore, and then expect me to come to court, still, and pretend that the kid isn’t my own? Lie to them, if I meet them—” Liam’s eyes flashed. “And just carry on like none of this ever happened?”

 “Yes,” he said, voice cold. Jaela shivered, stepping back from him. “Or you could leave Cordonia, if you can’t handle suddenly caring about the kid when you see them around. That might be the best, then.”

 Chilled. Chilled, that’s what Jaela was at his words. The lines of his face, usually defined but soft were sharp, jaw locked. He meant it, too. She built her own life here—one better than in New York—why did she have to sacrifice everything she built, made for herself, just to give Liam what he wanted? Why was it about putting him over her? She was the pregnant one. This wasn’t his problem, not yet. But…. Jaela bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed. “You know… I thought about running away, right before the fireworks. It seemed like the easy thing to do, to just leave.”

 “You did?”

 She nodded. “Why face my problems, my inadequacies as a person, as potential mother, when I can run away and pretend none of this happened? Why tell you about the baby, even, if I ran away?” Liam said nothing, just flaring his nostrils. “Instead, I’m here, trying to face them. Running’s the last thing I want to do, even if it’s the easy option.” Silence between them, Liam unblinking. She sighed, tilting her chin up.

 “So, okay, I have this baby—in secret—and then leave Cordonia so you can raise them, the King a single father stuck with a whore’s child.” Liam nodded, but winced. “How would… that work, exactly, raising a child alone as a King?” Liam went to answer but then stopped, paling. Ah, he didn’t think it through when Jaela saw the cracks from a million miles away.

 “How much time would you actually spend with them? Or would the nannies see them more than you? Would you ever have the chance to really know them? Their favorite color, their fears, their favorite book, their favorite food? And how, and I know exactly how this feels, do you think they’d feel barely seeing you, seeing the person that’s supposed to love them? You maybe love them, but that doesn’t mean you can provide for them like you want to, Liam. You can’t have the family you want if… if you want to raise them yourself. You won’t be raising them—the staff will.”

 The hardness dissipated from his face, Liam sucking in a breath and looking away from her, but didn’t move, arms crossed. She was right, and he knew it. But would he admit it? She knew it would kill him to come home after weeks of travel and only get to see them asleep in bed before he had another meeting the next day. How he couldn’t even be there—that’s why there was a Queen—for their milestones and as moments in-between as he could, because Cordonia would always come first. Did he forget that? Did he realize why she pulled away—why she yearned for Drake and what he could offer? Or did he just think… think that just because he had a child, his family he wanted, that everything would work out?

 Jaela continued, Liam still quiet, unmoving, eyes starting to look faraway. Jaela approached him, looking into his eyes—but he didn’t return the look. Was he realizing his inability to parent, too? “Do you remember at the Beaumont Estate, the date you took me on?” No reaction, but, she continued. “You said the thing you wanted most was a family—and a real one, one that loved each other and was there for each other. Liam… me having this baby for you isn’t a family, not like that. Not like the one you’d want. Do you think they’ll be happy, not having a father around and a mother they don’t know? Are you really going to sacrifice their personal happiness just so you can cling to this baby—this fetus, Liam—something that we never planned for, something that we’re both not ready to parent? Liam—”

“Stop talking,” Liam commanded and Jaela stepped back, lips trembling at his tone. So harsh. Loud, in the defending darkness of the office. He shut his eyes, speaking again, tone soft. “Please stop talking so I can… think.”

 There’s nothing to think about, she wanted to say, to shout, to scream: Liam couldn’t provide anything he wanted for this baby, other than his own equally selfish desire to have a family… the vision of a family that couldn’t exist, even if this baby did.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. If it did. Oh no. “Oh no,” she whispered, the thought starting to creep on her. A solution. A solution that… that she didn’t want herself, no matter how much it made sense, one briefly pondered, but never coming to full fruition. Liam didn’t hear her, shock still in the in same position—both stuck, in fact, caught in their own thoughts, their own failures and solutions to a problem that was nearly impossible to handle—one where neither wanted to, but had to face head on and without fear, even if fear was the only thing that gripped them.

 “Liam,” she whispered, tears striking again. This time though, she didn’t curse them away. They needed to stay.

 No acknowledgement of her. Just that dead, lifeless look of thinking—of knowing the truth but trying to refute it over and over. He couldn’t be a father he wanted—or deserved to be. Why make something that was nothing still suffer—and for no reason other than the luck of the draw. “Liam,” she tried and unwillingly stepped closer, starting to shake. Nothing, still. Just Liam, thinking, still.

 But, she needed to say something. To throw something else on the table… no matter how bad it hurt. Would hurt him. Her. Everything she thought she knew. “Liam,” she said a final time, grasping both of his arms, staring into the face just trying to find the flaw to her words, to discredit the truth that filled the room before them. Neither of them could be the parents they wanted to be. And Jaela was a trapped animal, ready to bite off her leg in a moments notice.

 And the baby? It was already suffering. Why put it through more misery by having no mother and father who had to put his country before them? She sucked in a deep breath. “I… I think I want an abortion.”

 The final word, abortion, slipped out, foreign and unpleasant on her tongue—sick, even if the medicine was supposed to help—resurfaced. Suddenly, Liam’s eyes flew to hers, focused, jaw dropped. “A…? Jaela. No. No,” he snapped, jaw set, but his tears shone. “You-you can’t here.”

 She squeezed his forearms, eyes shining—begging. “Please, Liam, just listen to me. I can’t do this. We can’t give it the life it deserves. We’ve—I’ve—already failed. And… and I know. Drake told—” The moment Drake’s name slipped out, he ripped his arms from her hold and stepped back, anger evident across every inch of his face. Jaela stumbled forward, catching herself on the desk, staring with wide eyes, voice trapped. Anger unlike anything she’d seen before from him.

 “Drake,” he fumed, hands clenched tight. “So, you want an abortion for him them? So, you can be with him?” Heart stopped. Jaela’s arms on the desk barely supported her when Liam spoke, hurt sinking into every pore. She shook, shocked, at his suggestion. Had he listened to everything she said? Did he even know her? Did he truly believe that she wanted to do this for Drake? “It’s selfish enough but just so you can be with him and—”

 Enough was enough. He couldn’t accuse her of this. Other things, but not this. “Do you really fucking think,” she yelled, standing tall. “That any woman actually wants an abortion? Do you think I’m seriously suggesting this because I want to be with Drake? He already said he’d be a fucking step-father before he got shot, you know.” She approached him, glaring up, their faces red. “Drake could fucking die, Liam. I know I might never get to see him alive again. It kills me to even say that, but I apparently have to so you can stop accusing me of shit that’s not true.” She pointed to herself. “This isn’t about him, this is about me. I’m the one feeling like an animal stuck in a trap ready to chew off their leg. I can’t fucking do it. I can’t. Please—”

 Liam shook his head, eyes flashing. “No, it’s also about the me. That’s my child too. And if I want to keep them—”

 “You know what I said is damn true, Liam,” she shouted, stepping back from him, hands in air. “That’s why you never commented on it. You know that you can’t be the father you want—you’re going to make them and you suffer—”

 “But I can try, Jaela!” he burst. “I can fucking try to be a father that I want to be. I—I know I won’t, god I know I can’t, but we made something and why the hell would I let that get aweay from me?”

 “Because I’m suffering, you’re suffering, and it’s suffering! You’re lucky I’m even telling you about this and not running off—”

 “I’m fucking lucky for you telling me that you want an abortion?!” Liam shouted, incredulous. “That I’m lucky you’re finally being considerate of me, only to tell me you’d abandon your child like as coward? That you’re already determined that it’s suffering without--”

 Jaela held up the sonogram, blinking back tears. “It already has a low heart rate, Liam.” He stopped, wiping at his eyes, blinking rapidly. “I bet they didn’t tell you that, huh?”

 “That… that doesn’t mean anything—”

 Setting down the sonogram, Jaela shook her head. “Maybe. But it’s not normal and means we’re already at risk of losing it,” she breathed, voice hoarse. “It’s already suffering, needlessly, and will so more if we’re selfish and bring this into the mess of this country and our own personal situation. Just… just because we’re adults, because you’re a King, doesn’t mean we’re able to give them what they need to be remotely happy. I… I’m not saying I want an abortion because I think it’s fun, or because I want to go on with the rest of my life knowing what I did. I don’t. I know I’m going to be guilty forever—I already am. I was the moment I found out. I don’t want this… but I don’t see another option.”

 Jaela buried her head in her hands, eyes shut tight. This was just a bad dream, right? Oh, but she knew it wasn’t. No, it was far from it. It was reality smacking her in the face. Of course the idea popped through her head but facing it head on—decision made—made everything that much harder to survive. To breathe. To face. Yet, she removed her hands, Liam standing close to her, looking down at the sonogram, frowning. She couldn’t run and hide. Liam knew what she wanted. He could make it happen, even if Cordonia didn’t allow it.

 But…

 She touched his arm, sighing. She owed him… something. Even if it would kill her. “Liam, I think we need to end the pregnancy. I can give you a list of a million reasons why… but I’ll keep it to these: I’m not ready, Cordonia is in danger, and having this baby won’t give you the family you’ve always wanted. It’ll bring you—and them—more pain. But…” He looked up, tear tracks drying on his cheeks.

 “But?”

 “I won’t do one if you’re not on the same page as me,” Jaela gulped. It would kill her… but god, she took so much from him. “If this was New York, and if you weren’t the father, I wouldn’t even be offering this. I’d get one done. But… I can’t do that to you. If you truly think you can parent this baby, that they’ll be safe and happy and if you’ll get what you want from being a father, then… then I’ll…” Mouth, so fucking dry, a pit forming in her stomach. “I’ll have the baby. I just can’t promise you that I’ll be there. But… maybe I can try.”

 No, you won’t be able to but let’s give him this. His eyes widened and he touched her cheek, then withdrew it, blinking rapidly. “Jaela… are you serious?”

 She chewed on her lip. You can back out now. You can do it. Tell him there’s no other option. “Only if you agree to… to seriously think about everything I’ve said, how I feel, and what we should do. If you want a baby… then I’ll do that for you.” She turned, heading towards the door, holding back her tears and the dread that formed. She didn’t want this to happen—but could she really stab another hole into his heart?

 “Where are you…?”

 “I think we need some space to think. I… I’ll be in my room. Just… just think about the future, Liam, and what everything would entail.” She looked behind her, Liam staring at her, slack jaw.

 “Jaela…” He gulped, running a hand over his head. “T-thank you. Really.” She nodded, tight lipped, saying nothing in return. Then, she exited, the door shutting behind her, a quiet bang. She stood frozen in the hallway, unsure if she signed her death sentence or not, giving him the choice when she knew, oh god she knew, that it should have been only hers.

The candles were still there, littering her room, but the bed was made. Life went on. The sun rose higher and higher and then sunk, lower and lower, but Jaela remained on the bed, sometimes curled into a ball, other times staring at the ceiling, and other times her head buried into a pillow.

Maxwell and Hana came in with Chance at one point, to try and cheer her up, but all she could do was sigh and pet Chance on her lap, looking up at her with those puppy dog eyes. “Jaela, why did you let him make that choice?” Hana gasped, taking her hand. She shrugged.

“After everything I’ve done to him, I didn’t think getting an abortion without us being on the same page for a baby he wants was… fair. And if he think he can be the parent that I can’t then… then I’ll give him that.”

 Maxwell and Hana both grimaced and looked at each other. “If he says he wants to be a parent?” Jaela sighed, almost touching her stomach then pausing. It seemed wrong to do, after what she said.

 “Then… then I suffer, but he’ll be happy. It’s the least I can do.”

 The silence between them spoke volumes, only Chance sighing. Even the dog knew how bad of an idea it could be—no, was.

 At eleven at night Jaela lay in the bed, only a lamp turned on, darkness outside. Liam apparently had food sent to her… and she was surprised at how much she ate. Was it because of the medicine for her morning sickness? Because she a barely touched anything in three days? Because you told him the truth?

But now, it was the quiet, her knees curled to her chest, scrolling through pictures on her phone. When she was happy. But knowing, in the back of mind, that in every shot of her, or of her friends, she was likely pregnant and not knowing the thing within her. Sipping champagne, posing with a bottle of whiskey, Drake rolling his eyes with the cigar they shared that night… happiness, no matter how fleeting. A life she wanted back, but knew it would never be the same. It couldn’t.

 Then, a soft knock. “Jaela?” Liam said, opening the door, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt—Jaela rubbing her eyes at how… normal he looked. She sat up, throat and stomach tight. This was it.

 “Hi,” she whispered, crossing her legs. Liam shut the door and slowly made his way to her, taking deep breaths. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She knew what answer she wanted. But what would he say?

 “Hey. Can… can we lay down? As friends?”

 “Yeah.”

 Their movements were stiff, robotic almost, but they lay next to each other, first, both looking at the ceiling, silent for five minutes. Liam had to be the one to start… start whatever he figured out. After five minutes, he turned and Jaela followed suit, looking into his blue eyes, so pure and… undeserving of everything she gave him. His breaths were shallow and he took her hand, squeezing it. Jaela tried to read his expression. What was it? What would he do? Force her to have a baby or… or do their best to move on, even if she knew neither really, truly would. Could anybody?

 “Jaela,” he whispered and she didn’t breath, eyes widening, chest tight. “I…” Faltering, Liam cleared his throat, holding her hand tighter.

 “I think… I think you’re right. I can book a flight for Greece tomorrow… if… if this is what you want.”

 Lightness replaced the tension, the animal trapped within her free, leg still intact. But Jaela said nothing, only staring, tears filling her eyes. Happiness? Grief? Relief? Pain? Everything all at once? “Liam… are you—”

 He touched her cheek, shutting his eyes. “Don’t ask that, Jaela.” A breath. “Can… can I stay the night?”

 “Okay. Yes.”

 Tentatively and together, the held each other, the world spinning, slowly.  

Silence.

Shuddering sobs.

Shared sorrows.  

Somehow, sleep.

Yes.

Sleep.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry Studios. Additionally, no minds will be changed. I firmly believe this is a story not often told but one that needs to be told, being “of age”, in good conditions, but still not ready for a child. It happens. It’s important. Not every accidental pregnancy means an automatic happy family. Life doesn’t work like that.

#trr #the royal romance #play choices #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fic #choices #king liam #drake x mc #trr fic #the royal romance fic #trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #drake walker #angst #tw: abortion #long post #supposed to be #drakewalkerwhipped fic #drake x jaela

[omgkatsudonplease]

church by fall out boy for victuuri pls

Yuuri is quiet most of the way back to the spaceport.

They’d missed their crew’s hovercraft, so Viktor decides to take them in his own transport. The sleek royal vehicle cuts through traffic like a dream, screens all around the city blaring the news of the Armistice Ball attack and pointing fingers everywhere in a desperate bid to find the perpetrator. 

Viktor clutches the fragments of metal in the bag. He’ll give them to the guards to turn in to law enforcement later, but in the meantime he tries to figure out what he can from the metal. Sometimes, if he concentrates just right, he’s able to garner the emotions of the last person who had held the object. 

It’s not really helpful investigatively, but it makes him feel like he’s doing something, and that’s important, too.

Anger. Panic. Confusion. It could be from a victim, it could be from the perpetrator. Viktor examines the carvings on some of the scraps, tries to discern their make, their style. It’s nothing he’s ever seen before – but then he’s never made it a point in his career as Crown Prince to see a lot of bomb sites and pieces. 

The hovercraft reaches the launchpoint to the spaceport, where clusters of sleek hotels and budget pods lurk at the periphery of the launchpoint buildings. Most hovercraft must deposit their passengers here so they can embark on shuttles that will take them out to the spaceport, but the royal crafts can withstand the pressures of escape velocity just fine. They only have to get in line behind the commercial shuttles, one of which Yuuri’s crew may be on now – if they haven’t stayed behind for the Mandalan.

Would they have? They were separated back in the ballroom. But the other Terran – probably the future murder victim Phichit – had seemed insistent on staying with him. Even the Alpha Allegrian, Christophe, managed to resist Viktor’s emotional prodding for a bit out of some Terran-inspired stubborn loyalty. 

Stubborn loyalty. Viktor looks over at Yuuri, who has emerged from the craft’s onboard refresher. They’re dressed in more modest garments now – a simple blue tunic and slate grey leggings, and Viktor would be lying if he said he didn’t stop to appreciate the way the gauzy material clings to the Terran’s form. Now that they’re away from danger, the urge to touch the Terran resurfaces again. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages after a moment. “I wanted you to be safe.”

Yuuri closes their eyes. Viktor tries to feel the atmosphere around them, but doesn’t get much more than stubborn static. It seems that once they’d realised the true extent of Viktor’s powers, they’d thrown up defenses almost as impenetrable as a Mandalan’s. Viktor’s honestly impressed. 

“I didn’t know a Terran could be so good at resisting… you know.”

“Is that how you do it?” asks Yuuri suddenly. 

“Do what?”

Yuuri’s about to answer, but then a warning chime comes on, telling them to buckle in for liftoff. The harnesses comes down, and Viktor braces himself for escape velocity. 

It’s only when they’ve cleared Neva’s atmosphere when Yuuri speaks up again, looking a little more green than pink. “Convince people to… fraternise with you.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “You think I emotionally… make them do it?” he asks.

“You are able to compel people,” Yuuri points out drily. “How do I know you weren’t doing that back out on the balcony?”

Viktor knows that by all means he should be deeply offended at such an accusation, and yet… nothing. The frustration that rolls through the static, though, he soaks in that a little. “I don’t usually project,” he says after a moment. “I’m a lot better at simply absorbing and redirecting. Emotions that run through me I simply rechannel into better ones. Anger into joy, sadness into warmth, things like that. Projection requires you to be able to regularly generate feelings to project, and I haven’t felt anything completely by myself for a long time.”

Yuuri’s gaze falls to their hands, fiddling with the hem of their tunic. “I don’t know if I trust that, no offense,” they say after a moment.

“None taken,” says Viktor. “Again, I’ve never seen a Terran be able to resist the projection so easily.”

Yuuri chuckles darkly. “You’d be surprised. If I could do it, a lot of Terrans could do it.”

“Not necessarily,” Viktor points out. “It takes mental fortitude.”

“I have dealt with enough monsters in my own head,” replies Yuuri. “I don’t need you poking around in there, too.”

“But would you want me on your mind?” Viktor asks, with a wink, because he clearly has no sense of self preservation. That causes Yuuri’s defences to slip a little, beaming over some flustered embarrassment. On Viktor’s behalf. 

“I’d like the record to state that my translator said ‘on your brain’,” Yuuri says, smirking. “Not quite the same.”

“No, I’d imagine not.” Viktor shakes his head. “Translators are so terrible sometimes.”

“But they’re so necessary,” Yuuri says, sighing. “I wish I had the patience to properly learn every language out there, but it’d take me centuries just to master all the Terran ones alone.”

“Does Terra not have a standard tongue?” wonders Viktor.

“Terran Standard,” says Yuuri, though their expression twists a little. “Controversial renaming, though; it used to be something called ‘English’, which took over the entire globe through wars of conquest and economic domination. Basic Terran history, blah blah.”

“And you’re speaking that to me, right now?” Viktor knows that’s how it fundamentally works, but it’s interesting to hear it confirmed anyway. Yuuri nods.

“And you’re speaking Nevan, I know. I’d like to hear it for itself, though, sometime.”

“You could turn your translator off for a moment,” Viktor says. Yuuri considers it, before nodding and tapping at the side of their head. A flesh-coloured earpiece falls off.

“Go ahead,” they say. Viktor swallows. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. Yuuri nods.

“I don’t know what you’re saying right now.”

Viktor takes a breath. “Okay.” He smiles, looking down at the translator in Yuuri’s hands. “The moment I first saw you, the world became still. So quiet. Like we were made to exist in one another’s space. You drowned everything out, and nothing else mattered. Even now, I am strangely at peace, and I finally have the quiet I need to be able to figure out my own heart.”

Yuuri’s eyes are wide, their mouth slightly agape. Viktor turns towards them, earnestness seeping through him in a tide he cannot control. It snaps out of him; Yuuri flinches; Viktor shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he pleads, pressing his hands together in what he hopes is a good approximation of apology. Yuuri nods. “I didn’t mean to, I just – you make me feel something, you know, and I’ve never really experienced this before, not at this level. I just wish I knew how to find it in me to tell you in a way you understand, instead of just talking and hoping you don’t.”

A moment passes, quiet, strangely tender. Yuuri’s cheeks are pink; his fingers tremble a little as they reach up and puts their translator back in. “Am I allowed to know what you said?” they ask.

Viktor smiles. “I just told you a story about my old pet, Makkachin. Have you ever met a Bergian?”

“Bergian?” echoes Yuuri.

“They look kind of like… what’s the word… dogs, from Terra. Makkachin is very fluffy and brown.” Viktor presses a hand to the armrest, pulls up a picture of the Bergian. His fluffy brown fur shines even in the holo projection.

Yuuri gasps. “He looks like a poodle!”

“Is that a kind of Terran dog?” asks Viktor. Yuuri nods.

“Yeah, I used to have a small version. I named her Venus, but we all called her Vicchan. She died of old age a while back.” They pause for a moment. “I couldn’t make it back to Earth in time to see her off. I’ve been running from there ever since.”

“Bergians are long-lived,” replies Viktor. “Makkachin has been with me since I was very young. He helped me with my training, actually.”

Yuuri’s expression falls again. “Right.” They look down at their fingers, flexes them against the armrest of the chair. Viktor feels their defenses rising back up again, and mourns at the loss. 

“You know exactly how a projection feels like now,” he says after a moment. “Did you feel anything like that when we were on the balcony?”

Yuuri purses their lips. “No,” they admit. 

“There you have it.” Viktor sighs. “I wish I could say I never use it for frivolous things, but I certainly don’t use it for my… connections. It taints the exchange.”

“The exchange,” echoes Yuuri.

“I don’t usually feel much of anything myself,” replies Viktor. A chime on the screen announces the arrival of the spaceport in less than five minutes. “I know I should, but I just – it’s easier to mimic the feelings of the people around me and pretend those are mine, too.”

“Is that why you end up with all sorts of non-Nevan beings?” asks Yuuri, tilting their head and looking at him curiously. Their topaz eyes shine with that same curiosity from earlier. “You want to ride their emotions for a bit?”

“Basically,” agrees Viktor. “It does do terrible things for my public image, though.” He laughs drily, remembering the latest tabloid gossip surrounding him and an intensely flamboyant Gilletese. “But I’d rather they think that instead of, you know. The idea that there’s a black hole where my heart should be, or something.”

“I doubt that,” Yuuri says immediately. Viktor raises an eyebrow. 

“Doubt what?”

“That your heart is a black hole,” replies Yuuri. “You’re honestly quite Terran, I think.”

Viktor realises then, with a start, that Yuuri had moved a little closer during that, their gaze darting to Viktor’s chest with undeniable curiosity. Viktor reaches out, placing Yuuri’s hand lightly over where his heart currently flutters wildly. 

“You don’t need –” Yuuri begins, and then bows their head, flushing. Viktor raises an eyebrow, before slipping off a glove and pressing his fingers lightly to the back of Yuuri’s hand.

Almost immediately, Yuuri swoons. 

#yoi #viktuuri #victuuri #yoiroyaltyweek #lily's dabbles #rewrite the stars #day 2 #anonymous #ask

[saturatedworld]

Red as candle

Seven betrayals, a stench. The footsteps of the false saints, resounding hollowly in the dark. A candle. A Reckless Researcher was the first fool of the seven, who brought up a question, "Is it really a betrayal if the to-be betrayed consents to it?"

No matter. The Knavish Agent moves on to acquire St Beau's.

The carnival at midnight. Mrs Plenty makes an attempt to dissuade him from going down the path of destruction further, asking him questions, reminding him of his place in London, his life. Still, he insists that going North, bringing the reckoning is his purpose. He shall sacrifice his home, as he is convinced he doesn't need a place to return to if he will go North, any place he will sleep in from that point on is only temporary.

St Beau's in hand, he fumbles in the streets and eventually arrives at a house, noisy with the calling and the singing of ravens.

Of course my feet would take me here.

He knocked, and he received a welcome. He spoke of how he got there, and he received a congratulation.

He has a place again for now. Only temporary, yes.

Next, St Cerise's. He saw in a dream, he needs to make more sacrifice. He decides to go through all of the whispers, the secrets, the stories he has collected, and craft them all into a single story, a story that will be cherished by him if no one else. It will be a fitting end to his career in collecting and trading information. Down, all shall go down into the well.

The Researcher found out about his plan, and being the destructively supportive person she is, offers to help writing the story.

One of the questions Plenty asked resurfaced to his mind. What about the friends you will leave behind?

That night, he was convinced no one will miss him. He was aware of what a horrible person he is, even before he began to Seek. But here's this woman, who never tries to dissuade him from this path, who supports him wholeheartedly; taught him the Correspondence to navigate his strange dreams, patched up his wounds whenever he scarred himself, willingly accepted the burden of knowledge, gave him a place to stay, and now...

“This is nonsense. I don’t get it, what will you gain from helping me? Everyone else think this is a fruitless endeavour.”

“What? Why are you suddenly—well, you gave me some peculiar knowledge, I’m grateful for that.”

“That's it? Really?”

“Listen, I don't necessarily approve your approach in many things, but since our ways are different, we can see matters in different perspectives and gain different knowledge. I will always be happy to exchange information with you, especially since information concerning that former Master is not easy to obtain.

“Besides, it would be against my principle if I discourage you from something this important for you. Hell, it is dangerous, but risks are there to be taken! But if you want to stop, that’s your choice to make. I will help you as long as you are not hurting innocents, got it?”

As expected from her, but a curious answer regardless. Her persistence in helping him is even more so. Why does it make him feel a little warm?

While they work on the story together, he starts reconsidering his relationship with the Researcher. There was a bumpy beginning, but when they learned of how they share a mother tongue, they began to help each other more in times of needs. I was just using her. I am still using her. But the more he remembers, the more he realises how their relationship isn't as vile as he thought, and this strange feeling he is getting…

How did he get here again? On his own, all on his own. He has used some people to make the way, but he went after them on his own. Deception and betrayal are the only ways he is used to for as long as he can remember. Most people will leave him as soon as they realise that, for good reason.

But this woman? This fool? She knows, yet she stays by his side for some reason, offers him help again and again. And he has helped her in return - willingly or not - more than he has done for anyone else. He just realised.

Who is the fool now?

He takes a look at the Researcher’s study. Stacks of books in all corners, lead plaques scattered all over, and a faint smell of dust and ashes and singe. Next to vague scribbles of what could be Correspondence sigils, a scrap of note was pinned. The small handwriting on it is clearly hers.

“In matters of the Bazaar, look to love, always.”

#leonard west #meika osborne