#........................ after i read the new hq chapter

[inaflashimagine]

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?” 

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day. 

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks. 

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas. 

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!” 

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from. 

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened? 

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

— 

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained. 

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night. 

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop. 

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises. 

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him. 

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky. 

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet. 

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla. 

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling. 

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada. 

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking. 

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be. 

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises. 

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke. 

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden. 

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.   

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.” 

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #astv x reader #lo mejor series

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Kim Dokja headcanons with fem!reader who is a writer

These headcanons are dedicated to my friend @d10nsaint who recommended me this webtoon series to me when I had nothing else to read lol. Enjoy! :)

Prior to the apocalypse, Kim Dokja was neither a social butterfly nor a likable person on Minosoft’s Q and A team. Most people avoided him, and he liked to keep a low profile so he could read his webnovels in peace. 

It was a perfect, quiet routine for a contract worker like himself  until the arrival of a new junior shattered it all. [First Name] [Last Name], recently transferred from the company’s [Country] branch to HQ. And she was assigned to work under him. 

Not only was the junior a quick learner, but she was also very good-looking. Kim Dokja might be a reader at heart, he wasn’t a blind fool to not notice her. She was definitely on her way to becoming the next Yoo Sangah in the company: charming, kind, and willingly to stay late to help the team finish up any assignments for the next meeting. 

He definitely did not have a chance with someone like them. At least that was what he had thought until he looked over in her cubicle to go over some paperwork when he saw the artwork of a web novel on her computer but she wasn't there. 

SOMEONE ELSE BESIDES HIM READ WEBNOVELS?! The man was stunned to say the least. However, right now he could not afford to look like a weirdo with the CEO making random rounds to each department today. So, like the gentleman he is, he placed the documents on your desk and went right back to work. 

But he kept an eye on her…in a non-creepy way of course! It was just….hard  for him to make conversation with someone. It definitely took Kim Dokja a few times to ask [First Name] if they would be interested in going to get a bite to eat on the way home from a particularly tiring day in the office. 

To his surprise and delight, she accepted. It was nothing fancy, just a food stall. When he saw that her phone screen was opened up to the newest chapter of Three Ways of Survival he couldn’t help but blurt out that it was a mind-blowing twist to the story. 

[First Name]'s reaction to his words was stunned silence, followed by them asking him that he’s read the novel too with a starry look in her eyes. 

After that, Kim Dokja and [First Name] exchanged numbers. While at Minosoft,  the two of them worked together and remained professional. If one or the other were invited to drinks, they’d follow them. Nothing too odd to raise any alarms, just casual banter that even made a few of the other employees raise her eyebrows.

It was a whole different story when they were off the clock though. 

The two of them either went out somewhere, or just spent a good chunk of the evening texting each other web novel recommendations or their thoughts on the latest chapter of TWSA.

Kim Dokja thought he knew everything about his growing crush on [First Name] until she shyly dropped another startling revelation on him just a year after discovering that they loved reading as much as he did: [First Name] [Last Name] was a web novel writer.

Not only that, but her work was something he’d recently started to read when tls123 went on a brief hiatus due to health issues. 

Seriously, how could someone be so perfect in his eyes?!

Naturally, he read [First Name]’s work and gave her honest feedback on the plot’s progression, the characters, any and everything that would make her grin from ear to ear or hum in contemplation about where she could improve. 

He has the honor of reading her rough drafts before she published it online. Not going to lie, some of his ideas came from his favorite web novel. But [First Name] deeply appreciated his help and often thanked him for his support, especially when she was hit with writer’s block.

It took Kim Dokja another six months before he worked up the courage to ask [First Name] out on a date. He was terrified, fearing that he might lose his only friend…but seeing the bright red hue on  [First Name]’s face and hearing her stutter that she would be delighted to go out with him as more than a co-worker and a friend made his heart skip a beat.

She….she really…liked him too, huh? That’s…great. No, it was more than great. This is probably one of the happiest memories he still kept close to his heart: knowing that he loved someone, and she loved him back.

And now, no matter what happened in these scenarios, he would protect and provide for [First Name]. She was precious to him, and she gladly reciprocated that same devotion and love with no strings attached or scheming. 

It still warmed his heart to see her cuddle with Gil-Yeong and Shin Yu-Seong late at night or work with the rest of his party to ensure that everyone was prepared for what lay ahead next. 

He also took secret, sadistic delight in seeing his significant other win arguments against Han Sooyoung, especially about stories or writing. 

No matter what she said, a plagiarist is still a plagiarist even if people said that SSSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor is superior to Three Ways of Survival in every way.

.

#orv kdj #orv kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #orv headcanons #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader webtoon #an idyllic novelist #omniscient reader’s viewpoint x reader

[madixkiwi]

Pressure (Chapter 3)

Miguel O'Hara x Reader (fem)

Word Count: 2.8k

Description: Miguel and Y/N are in an established relationship. As the events of "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse" gradually unfold, conflict arises between the couple. Miguel is a complicated man with the fate of the multiverse riding on his shoulders. Y/N is a Spider-Society technician with a big heart and strong morals.

______________________________________________________________

“Yo, this place is wild!” Miles said as he took in the incredible sight before him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she watched him look around in awe, approaching the dock he and his friends arrived in with brisk steps. Jess waved at Y/N and led the others towards her. 

“Hey, guys, what have you all been up to?” Y/N asked once she was close enough to the group.

“Nothin’ much,” Hobie answered.

“Oh, you know…” Gwen laughed awkwardly, avoiding a conversation about what happened in Pavitr’s universe a few minutes ago. 

Jess glanced at Y/N with a knowing look. “It’s a long story, you’ll hear all about it soon enough.”

“Oh, alright,” Y/N chuckled and faced the new kid. “Hi, new guy! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Miles,” he responded.

“Alright, Miles, I’m Y/N,” the group stopped walking forward when they reached the end of the dock. Y/N gestured to the expanse of the building that was crawling with other Spider-People. “Welcome to Spider-Society!”

Miles’ jaw dropped. Thousands of Spiders occupied the floors, walls, and ceiling; it was truly a sight to behold. 

“Come on, guys. Miguel wants to see you,” Jess began walking in step with Y/N, who nodded in agreement with her friend. 

“It’s actually my job to take you to him. Follow me, everyone.” It wasn’t very often that Y/N had the opportunity to walk through the magnificent building, for she and Margo were always cooped up in the control room. Almost every face was familiar to her, and she received a plethora of greetings from everyone she passed.

As the small group walked together, Miles began to glitch out. Jess stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes, fishing for a wristband in her pocket. “Here,” she said, tossing the band in Miles’ direction. He caught it with ease. 

“Woah, my own watch!” He gasped.

“It’s a day pass,” Y/N clarified.

“It’ll keep you from-” Jess was cut off by the sound of Miles glitching again. He slid his band onto his wrist and the glitching stopped. “-doing that.”

They ran into Peter Parkedcar shortly after that, and Jess instructed him to deal with a “spot mess”. 

“I wouldn't call it a mess, more like a success in progress,” Miles suggested. 

Y/N looked at Jess for some elaboration. “What are you guys talking about?”

“You mean Miguel hasn’t told you?” Jess seemed genuinely surprised.

“Nope, nothing.”

Jess almost told Y/N everything, but she got distracted upon seeing Ben Reilly in the hallway. “One sec, Y/N. Ben, I need-”

“Sorry, I can’t talk right now,” Ben began dramatically. “I’m thinking about my past.”

“Actually, we need you here for some reason.”

Ben groaned and threw himself onto the nearest structure. Jess and Y/N remained unphased by the action, but the kids behind them were a little thrown off. The group continued their walk across HQ, and Lyla joined them when they made it to the room containing all of the captured anomalies. Y/N tried coaxing any information out of Jess that she could, but something always prevented her from telling the full story.

Y/N said “hi” to Margo and let her take on the role of explaining the Go Home Machine to Miles. “Jess, please, I’m dying here,” she pleaded with her friend. 

Jess looked at Lyla, and they shared a look that Y/N couldn’t read properly. “Look, Y/N, you know I love you.”

“Yeahhh?”

“Which is why it’s been so hard to keep this from you. But Miguel specifically said not to tell you about this.”

Y/N’s expression dropped. “Oh, so Miguel put you up to this. He doesn’t want me to know what’s going on?”

“Y/N, come on-”

“Hey, don’t worry. I know it’s not your fault… It’s just frustrating.”

“I can only imagine.” Jess’ sympathy was written all over her face.

The conversation concluded when Miles, Hobie, and Gwen started walking back towards the grown ups. Lyla disappeared for a second and then came back with a smirk on her face. “Miguel sounds hungry,” she declared.

“He likes those empanadas from the cafeteria,” Jess added.

Normally, Y/N would have specified the details of Miguel’s food order, but the thought of him stung too much to dwell on. She clenched her jaw and stared at the floor as the group made a detour to order an empanada, a sort of peace offering for Miles to give Miguel. 

Meanwhile, Miguel watched all of them from one of his monitors, paying close attention to Y/N’s behavior. He frowned before collecting a vile of the solution that gave him his powers, inserting it into a unique syringe and injecting himself with the green liquid. Videos of the life he shared with his daughter flashed on the other screens surrounding him, reminding him of the past and worsening his mood. The life he desperately wanted for himself taunted him with its unattainability; although, he would have never met Y/N if that universe never collapsed.

***

The door to his room opened abruptly. Miguel started moving his platform downwards towards the floor. He knew that Hobie, Miles and Gwen stood waiting for him in the doorway. He didn’t expect Y/N to be standing next to them, though, protecting the kids from the full extent of his temper. Jess had sent her in with them to act as a cushion.

“Te traje una empanada,” Miles held up the food he had picked up for Miguel from the cafeteria. 

Miguel shot his webs at the container, slinging the box directly into his hand. “Que maravilla,” he responded. His voice was emotionless. He looked over at Y/N for a split second, taking note of the sadness in her expression.

“Listen,” Miles continued. “I’m really excited to get going-”

“Oh, great.”

“I have some fresh new ideas on how to catch the Spot.” Y/N’s interest was piqued when the “spot” was brought up. 

Miguel didn’t allow his demeanor to falter, but he internally panicked when Miles mentioned the secret that he had kept hidden from Y/N. He knew Y/N would inevitably find out about everything, and she was going to kill him for hiding it from her. Miguel took out his anger regarding the predicament on Miles, throwing a table at his head. Even though his spider senses allowed for him to dodge the projectile, it was still a low blow in Y/N’s opinion. “He’s worried about Spot,” Miguel mumbled. Then his voice grew increasingly louder. “I’ll worry about Spot!”

“What did I do?”

“Miguel!” Y/N yelled at him disapprovingly.

Gwen stood in front of Miles. “It’s not his fault.”

“You blew another hole in the multiverse!” Miguel snarled.

“He doesn’t know any better!”

Y/N jumped in to support Gwen. “Calm down, Miguel! He’s just a kid!”

“Stay out of this,” Miguel snapped. Y/N felt shivers run down her spine. He had never spoken to her like that before. Something about the red glow in his eyes and the venom in his voice scared her.

Miguel turned back to Gwen. “You knew better, Gwen. And you-” He turned to address Hobie, who couldn’t have cared less about what Miguel was saying. “I was gonna try to ignore you, but I just can’t.”

Miles looked from Gwen, to Y/N, to Hobie, to Miguel. “What’s happening?” He asked.

“Hey, Miguel, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher,” Peter B’s voice entered the conversation like a saving grace. Y/N whipped around in excitement; Peter was one of her closest friends, and she absolutely adored his daughter.

“Peter?”

“Peter-”

“Peter!” 

“Oh boy, humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived.”

Miles ran up to his mentor and gave him a hug. 

“Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel,” Peter began. “He just looks scary, he’s got no bite.”

“You sure about that?” Y/N questioned playfully. 

Peter’s grin grew wider when he saw her. “Hey, there’s my favorite normie!” 

Miguel turned his back to the group, jealous of Y/N’s enthusiasm for Peter. “Peter,” He spat under his breath.

“Wow, everyone’s here, this is great!” 

“Hey, Peter, what’s that?” Miles pointed at the vacant baby carrier that was strapped over Peter’s shoulders. Mayday’s joyous screams answered Miles’ inquiry. She swung through the room with her webs, climbing on the walls in true Peter B. Parker fashion. 

“You have a baby?” Miles watched as she happily explored the room. Peter chased after her, and Miguel rubbed his forehead in annoyance. He mumbled incoherent sounds to himself in an attempt to remain collected. His moment was interrupted by Mayday climbing onto his shoulders. Peter swung next to Miguel and showed him some of her baby pictures. 

“I’m trying to hold a serious adult conversation,” Miguel dismissed Peter’s antics.

“You know, you’re the only Spider-Man that isn’t funny. We’re supposed to be funny,” Peter reminded him.

“The fate of the multiverse-”

“You always lose me with that. You say, ‘The fate of the multiverse,’ and my brain dies.”

Mayday fell into Miguel’s arms, and he handed her off to her father. 

Miguel took a deep breath and returned to the original topic of conversation. “Miles, you disrupted a canon event.” Y/N noticed that the bags under his eyes were darker than usual. 

“Canon event?” Miles repeated. 

Peter chimed back in, “The kid wasn’t thinking. That’s not how he works.”

Miles frowned. “That’s insulting. Wait,” he faced Miguel. “What are you so upset about? I saved those people.”

Miguel jumped down from his platform. “And that’s the problem. Lyla, do the thing.”

Lyla appeared next to him. “Huh, what thing?” She teased. 

“What do you mean ‘what thing’? The information explainy thing.”

“Okay,” she agreed. 

Suddenly the entire room was covered in a holographic projection. Miguel looked over at Y/N once more, but she was too busy admiring Lyla’s work to notice. Miguel then went on to explain how the multiverse worked to Miles. He covered the importance of canon events, and he detailed why Miles’ shouldn’t have saved inspector Singh’s life back in Pavitr’s universe. According to Miguel, Pavitr’s dimension was currently unraveling, and it was Miles’ fault. 

“That’s what happens when you break the canon,” Miguel stated. 

“How do you know?” Miles’ question caused Miguel to pause. Y/N stared at him, concerned about how he would react to such a sensitive subject. 

Miguel looked at Miles with a somber expression. “Because I broke it once myself.” He went on to detail the truth that he happened to learn about the hard way. Lyla replayed the footage of Miguel’s last moments with his daughter. He was frantically trying to run away from the destruction that chased him as the little girl clung to his suit. She eventually glitched into nothingness while Miguel helplessly watched. Y/N almost started crying when she saw Miguel’s reaction to the loss of his child. She looked over at her partner and noticed that he wasn’t watching the replay. 

“You break enough canon and save enough captains, and we could lose everything,” Miguel told Miles.

Miles took a moment to process Miguel’s words. “My dad is about to be captain,” he said. Suddenly he began to stagger and pull on his hair. “Spot does it… he kills him. When does it happen?”

Miguel avoided Miles’ gaze.

“When does it happen?” He demanded.

“In two days. When he’s sworn in.” Miguel claims. 

Lyla popped up next to Miguel for support. “That’s what the model says.”

“I’m sorry Miles.”

Miles’ breathing is staggered. “Send me home.”

Miguel sighs. “I can’t do that. Not now.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let him die?”

Miguel gives him a look that says, “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” 

Miles turns around and faces Gwen. “What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

“Yeah,” is all Gwen responds with. 

“And that’s it? You just aren’t going to do anything about it?” The whole room is silent. “Okay, what about Uncle Ben? Would that have been okay if you knew and you just let it play out?” 

Peter reached out and rested a hand on Miles’ arm. “If not for Uncle Ben, most of us wouldn’t be here, Miles. And all the good we did, it wouldn’t have been done.”

“So we’re just supposed to let people die because some algorithm says that that’s supposed to happen? You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

Y/N understood where Miles was coming from. Suddenly, every piece of information that had been deliberately hidden from her was fitting together like matching puzzle pieces. The Spot was the anomaly that Miguel was concerned about, and Miles had somehow gotten entangled in his mess. They ended up in Pavitr’s universe, where Miles disrupted the canon. Y/N was well aware of how the canon worked, and she knew it was unfair. It had been cruel to every Spider-Person.

Currently, she was on Miles’ side. No one could realistically expect him to let his father die when his death could easily be prevented. The containment teams didn’t always manage to save unraveling dimensions, but sometimes they did. If it were up to her, then every Spider in the building would work hard at finding a way to save Miles’ father and his universe. Unfortunately, Miguel was the one who called the shots, and he was inherently narrow minded.

“You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world- every world.” Miguel said. 

Miles shook his head. “I can do both! Spider-Man always-”

“Not always.” Peter looked heartbroken as hundreds of Spiders gathered around the group. They all came to support Miguel, and to remind Miles that he wasn’t alone. 

“Miles,” Miguel continued. “We all want to live the life we wished we had. Believe me, I’ve tried. And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.” His eyes finally met with Y/N’s again. They briefly shared an expression of immense grief. ”Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for.”

Miles looked around at the people that surrounded him. “What is this?” His voice trembled. “Is this an intervention or something? You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.” Miguel slid a device on the floor that imprisoned Miles in a projection of red light. 

“Miguel!” Y/N had had enough of standing in the background. She ran over to Miguel and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Miguel. He’s too young to understand!” She didn’t really believe that, but she wanted Miguel to let him off easy. 

“Stop it!” Gwen yelled. Peter tried persuading Miguel to let Miles go as well. 

Miguel closed his eyes. “If we let him leave, then he’ll only do more damage. You all know that.”

“This can’t be the only way,” Y/N concluded. She tugged at Miguel’s arm desperately. “Don’t do this, Miguel, he’s a child. Please, don’t do this.”

He ignored Y/N’s pleas. “I just need to hold you for a few days,” he told Miles.

Hobie looked at Y/N from across the room, and then he looked at Miles. He started walking over to him, and Y/N had an idea of what he was planning. “Don’t ignore me!” She tried her best to distract Miguel. “That’s all you ever do nowadays. You don’t even care about me anymore, do you?”

Y/N hadn’t intended to say something so harsh, but it managed to successfully distract Miguel for a moment. “Is that what you really think?” The hurt in his voice was extremely apparent. Y/N instantly regretted what she said. She moved her hands from his arm to cover her mouth. 

“Miguel, I-” A wave of electricity swept across the room with a static jolt. Miguel instinctively grabbed Y/N and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his body. When everyone looked back towards the center of the room, they saw Miles free from the containment chamber. Without wasting any time Miles bolted out the door. Miguel immediately chased after him, leaping forward with intensity. He left Y/N behind without a second thought, leaving her on the cold floor. All of the other people in the room began to chase after Miles as well.

A few moments later, Y/N heard Miguel’s voice over the overhead speakers again. “All stations, stop what you’re doing and stop Spider-Man.” Confused conversation buzzed throughout the building. “Ay, coño, Miles! Miles Morales! He’s entering sector 4!”

Y/N picked herself up and rushed over towards the control room. If Miles wanted to go home, then he would have to use the Go Home Machine. As she ran through the empty halls, she silently hoped that Miles would make it back where he belonged, and she prayed that Miguel would forgive her for what she said.

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man #lyla #jessica drew #spider byte #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider gwen #peter parker #into the spider verse #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #spider man 2099 #peter b parker #may day #spider punk #astv #spiderman astv #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #across the spider verse spoilers #oscar isaac #fluff #angst

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

fic recs masterlist pt 2

So here's a part two to my first fic rec list because I thought the first list was too long to add more or I've only read them more recently

Haikyuu!

you're all i see, you're all i need by DailyMelody: iwaoi fic where iwaizumi lies to his family that he and oikawa are dating and he slowly realizes they haven't been faking their feelings, nsfw in the last chapter

Sprout, Bloom, Grow by SpaceJammie: matsuhana and iwaoi fic from the perspective of matsukawa, this is probably my fav hq I'm keeping up with rn, the characterizations and story are so deep and well written, unfinished

Let the Light Out by UhohShouto: post canon kagehina fic where kageyama realizes he's super into hinata and they make a bet that leads to them smooching and doing much more, nsfw

what i really mean by solyn: kuroken fic where they're both sort of clueless about their feelings while everyone else around them knows they're in love, nsfw

it drives you crazy getting old by atsumusbiceps: a sakuatsu 13 Going On 30 au that's absolutely adorable, omi is in love from the beginning but atsumu thinks being angry and attracted to someone is normal

Gray in the Middle. by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey): crazy good sunaosa fic where suna is a model and osamu is his new assistant, the development of their friendship while osamu slowly gets to see the real suna and coming to see the toxicity of the fashion industry, unfinished, future nsfw

Sakusa Kiyoomi's Short and Unhelpful Guide To Falling In Love by honest_pebble: sakuatsu fic where omi asks for atsumu to kiss one drunken night and they can't seem to keep their hands off each other in the months after

i pretend you're mine, all the damn time by theglitterati: bokuaka high school fic where bokuto is nervous about his lack of experience when a girl asks him out so he asks akaashi to help him learn how to kiss, very cute and silly

sleeping with strangers by starbeyy: kagehina fic where kageyama is a lawyer that's afraid of attachment and only sleeps with strangers until he gets an extremely cute client that makes him less afraid, nsfw in later chapters

Take a hint by badreputation: sunaosa fic where suna doesn't realize osamu is trying to woo him and is just an oblivious dummy

i sing the body electric by viverella: iwaoi getting together fic where iwaizumi beings to realize he doesn't have entirely platonic feelings about his best friend

dearly departed by radiantradish: daisuga ghost au where suga is stuck in limbo while he's in a coma and daichi is a firefighter that keeps dreaming about him

Winter is Red by MeikoAtsushi: technically this is the sunaosa spin-off to their original sakuatsu fic but the premise is that osamu can see the red threads of fate that tie soulmates together but he doesn't have one and falls in love with suna anyway, this fic is fucking PAINFUL because osamu is determined to make his life miserable and try to push suna away but he can never stay away for long, nsfw

the posterior probablity by izayas: sakuatsu au where omi is a professor and atsumu is an m.d. who's taking his class and they fall in love lol

SunKissed by Paintbrushyy_Ducky98: bokuaka fic where akaashi's family's new pool boy is really cute and he sort of seems familiar... nsfw

favor from the boy you can't resist by crossbelladonna: bokuaka fic where bokuto asks akaashi to be his fake boyfriend and things go as well as you'd expect

Miles by lettersinpetals: kuroken post canon/during chapter 402.1 fic where kuroo is very aware of his love for kenma but is convinced kenma doesn't feel the same

Night Moves by fluorophoring: kuroken fic where they just keep hooking up at night without actually dating or discussing their feelings, heavy nsfw

What to Do (to You) by Mooifyourecows: iwaoi fic where matsuhana set them up on a blind date despite already being roommates and having crushes on each other, nsfw

take me the way i am by almostsophie1: kuroken fic where kuroo wants to know if kenma is willing to have sex with him just to "practice", nsfw obviously

spill my guts by wasted: bokuaka fic where akaashi is a massive pining simp and doesn't know what to do about his crush

Legend Has It by sifuhotman: sunaosa crime au??? i literally think about this fic all the time and how it's not finished, such an interesting plot with osamu as a detective and suna is a con artist who has connections to some underground crime syndicates, the last chapter posted legit made me cry, i really identify with osamu in this fic, nsfw in later chapters

Miscellaneous

Apple of Your Eye by Kattythingz: sk8 renga fic but it's if Adam became obsessed with Reki instead of Langa, highkey NUTS how good Adam's characterization is because you want to bash his skull in with a hammer

A Crown of Gems and Gold by Kattythingz: fma edling fic that's basically a rewrite of the entire series but if edling got together soon after their first meeting, the best characterization, action, and dialogue ever utilized in writing, unfinished but ongoing

Always an Angel, Never a God by oktsukki: jjk satosugu au where hidden inventory didn't end as bad as they did in canon, a lot of good healing and characterization

lights out by phollie: hxh killugon fic where killua is just very soft about gon as gon shows him around the island he grew up on

Sword of Damocles by orphan_account: mp100 terumob au fic where teruki asks mob out as a joke but he actually starts to fall for him

#please rec me more jjk and bsd i'm begging #haikyuu!! #sk8 #jjk #fic recs #fma #hxh #mp100 #iwaoi #matsuhana #kagehina #kuroken #sakuatsu #sunaosa #bokuaka #daisuga #renga #edling #satosugu #killugon #terumob #jinx talks #jinx reads

[treasurecitymoonchild]

Chapter 2 - A (not so) warm welcome

story: The Lieutenant's Shadow - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

cw: fem!reader, angst, foul language, mentions of scars, mentions of violence

word count: 5,853

chapter summary: Your first day and night at the safehouse is one you won't forget anytime soon.

read this chapter on ao3

The safehouse was designed by men, for men.

It wasn't long into Soap's tour of the interior when he realised that the place lacked a lot of basic comforts. He knew it wasn't rare for a safehouse to have the simplest of simple interiors, but now that he was showing the place to you, a female, it started to sink in how little to no facilities there actually were. 

The only bathroom missed a door and had no hot water or shower curtain. There was no kitchen, they were surviving on MREs and bottled water. And to top it all off, the toilet couldn't flush, to which he spared you the details.

You repeatedly kept telling him that you really didn't mind and that you were used to these kinds of living conditions, but you could tell he started to feel bad. Every room you entered seemed to get progressively worse in his eyes, you on the other hand thought it was rather funny. An irritated sigh left his lips once you two entered the room that was assigned to be the sleeping area.

"So uhm, this is where we all sleep," Soap exaggeratedly placed his hands on his hips while scanning the room. He looked dismayed at the bunk beds, slightly shaking his head. "As you can see, also not quite comfortable. I'm sorry y/n, I feel like a shite host," he groaned. You softly laughed before deciding to speak up.

"Soap, it's fine. I've had worse in the past. I'm glad to have a bed," you reassured him. He furrowed his brows.

"Yer telling me you didn't have one at the Shadow Company's base? I always imagined that to be one hell of an HQ," he questioned. You chuckled, the pain in your back almost returning as you remembered your last bed.

"I did have a bed silly, but if you'd told me I was sleeping on a bed of nails there I would've believed you. I'm excited to try a new one for a change," Soap's shoulders slightly relaxed at your comment.

"Well, you might find it to be better here, but don't expect that you'll be sleepin' like a baby. The guys can snore like bears."

"I bet you're the loudest," you joke, turning your head towards Soap. He acts offended, but is quick with an answer.

"Not with snoring, no. I can make quite some noise with other things tho."

Your eyes playfully glare at him through your mask as you let out a huff of laughter. His eyes widen again.

"With guns o'course! Jeez, I really need to mind how I say something," Soap scratches the back of his head before laughing along with you. After he stops laughing, he looks around the room for the empty bunk bed that is assigned to you. Spotting it, he walks towards it, still carrying your duffel bag around his shoulders. You follow suit, glancing around the room yourself while taking in your new bedroom for the next couple of weeks. You notice five bunks in the room, making for ten beds in total. They are all occupied by the looks of it, meaning that there must be at least seven other people stationed in this safehouse, seeing that you've already met Captain Price and seen the mysterious guy they call Ghost from afar. The room is empty now, making you wonder where everyone is.

"Your boushty, madam," Soap says while stopping in front of a bunk bed. He drops your duffel bag on the lower bed, which you are secretly really happy with. You've always preferred the lower bed since you fell out of the top one multiple times in college.

"I assume that means bed?"

"Yer a fast learner, although understanding it is easier than pronouncing it. Try it," he tells you, giving you a challenging look. You squint your eyes, debating whether or not you should try.

"I think I'll pass on that one for now." Soap smiles a little while nodding his head.

"Fair enough. You did say for now tho, so I'm expecting to hear your attempt one day!" he points at you. 

"One day, Soap. One day," you tell him, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"Call me Johnny. Soap sounds so serious, I usually-" a burst of your laughter cuts him off. "What're you laughing for?"

"Soap doesn't sound quite serious to me," you tell him while still laughing. The corners of Soap's mouth curl up in a smile before playfully rolling his eyes.

"You didn't let me finish! It sounds serious cuz I mainly use it in the field. I prefer people calling me by my real name in less serious situations. But you know what, I give you the privilege to call me whatever you want, lass. Soap, Johnny, MacTavish, hawk... I don't mind really," he tells you, making you laugh even harder at the final nickname he gave himself.

"I might have to go with hawk then, can't pass on that opportunity." Soap glares at you, already regretting the fact that he even gave you that option. You try to calm down from your laughing fit, but the unamused look on his face that makes him look like an angry mohawked bear makes it hard for you to stop laughing.

You've laughed more with Soap already than you ever have during your time at the Shadow Company. You've already taken quite a liking to him, he made you feel welcome here and most definitely excited to meet the others. Captain Price seemed nice as well, a bit more serious as far as you could tell from the first communication you've had with him, but definitely nice. You can't say the same yet about your partner for this mission. Ghost stared you down like he wanted to scare you off, like you didn't belong here.

But you don't intimidate me that easily, Lieutenant.

Soap looks at you for a couple of seconds after his laughter has died down. You can tell he's thinking of something to say. He hesitates before deciding to speak up anyway.

"Aren't you bloody hot in that thing?" he says, referring to your mask. "You know you can take it off in here, the fact that Ghost wears one all day doesn't mean you need to."

You honestly weren't realising that you were still wearing it, as it has become such a habit to wear it all the time around new people. It wasn't until Soap pointed out that you still had the black balaclava on your head that you suddenly started to feel the heat.

You hated drawing unnecessary attention to your scar by only taking off your mask when someone 'asked' you to. Of course, Soap is curious to see what the female sergeant he just met looks like underneath the mask. How could he not be? But taking it off in front of him right now felt too forced in your opinion, like you were satisfying his expectations. Even though Soap has made you feel quite comfortable already, you decide to wait.

"Thanks, Johnny. I'll think about it."

Soap nods before looking around the room, going back into his thinking mode. He is contemplating if he has shown you every part of the safehouse, soon realising that you've seen everything already.

"Well, I don't have anything else to show you, the safehouse's not that big. I hope you liked the tour tho?" he says in a questioning manner. You make sure he can see the smile in your eyes.

"It was great, thanks hawk." 

Soap glares at you again, playfully pushing your shoulder. 

"I knew I shouldn't have said that."

You snicker while shooting a glance at your bed and duffel bag for a second. Soap notices and speaks up.

"Right, so, I've demanded yer attention for far too long, I bet you want to rest for a bit. I'll leave you to it now," Soap starts, glancing at his watch before looking back at you. "If you're hungry, most of us usually eat dinner around seven. And by dinner, I mean opening up the umpteenth MRE and hoping that there will be another person in the common room who's hungry at the same time. I'll definitely be there tho, so you won't be alone. I never turn down food."

You smile before nodding your head. "Sounds good. I'll be there." 

"Class, see you in around an hour then. And again," he says while giving you a fist bump, "welcome to Task Force 141."

You had spent the past forty-five minutes unpacking your bag, putting your personal items away in a locker and under your bed. There wasn't much to unpack, but it took you so long because you kept taking a ten-minute break after putting away one thing. The entire trip and the heat from today have made you quite tired. You weren't used to this heat yet, seeing that you've spent the last eight months in the colder climate of the United States.

You were currently seated on your bed, flipping through your journal in search of an empty page. You had made a habit out of journaling a while ago when overthinking and procrastinating were threatening to become your normal state of mind. Putting your thoughts on paper and out of your head calmed you down, even though it was only temporary. Nowadays you also used your journal as a diary, jotting down the things you had done during the day and important stuff you really shouldn't forget. You decided to dedicate a separate section to this new chapter in your military career, titling it A fresh start.

You decide to leave the actual writing of a diary entry for later. You get up from your bed, making your way towards what was supposed to be serving as the bathroom. The only thing in there was a broken mirror, a sink and a shower, the latter being right in the middle of the room. Your gaze alternated between the shower and the door frame behind you, quickly noticing that since there was no door, the shower was visible from every corner of the sleeping area. And with no shower curtain, everyone was going to be able to see your naked body from the comfort of their own bed.

Great.

Deciding to leave the shower for later, you make your way towards the sink. You glance at yourself in the mirror, noticing your mask is dirty from the dusty air outside. You still hadn't taken your mask off, even though you had been alone after Soap left you. You also hadn't seen anyone else, making you wonder if there were actually any other people besides Soap, Price and Ghost. The thought of someone you hadn't met walking in and seeing your face - and scar in particular - refrained you from exposing your face. 

But you couldn't keep it on forever. You didn't want to keep it on forever. You wanted these people to see the real you. You didn't want to be known as 'that one masked sniper from the Shadow Company'. You had felt like just another number at the Shadow Company for eight months, you were ready for people to actually care about the person behind the concealment. Actually taking off your mask would be a good start, and since Soap had already given you a small glimmer of hope, you decided to just say fuck it. 

You pull your mask off your head, the mild air of the safehouse immediately cooling your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the previous humid heat inside your mask. Sweaty strands of hair were sticking to your forehead and the sides of your face. Your rough appearance made you look like you'd just run a marathon.

You turn on the tap of the sink, splashing lukewarm water on your face. You were rubbing the sweat and dirt out of your pores, feeling fresher by the minute. There was no towel, so you used the hem of your shirt to dry your face. You try to style your hair a bit by wetting your fingers and running them through your hair. It is a useless attempt, seeing that your hair is completely flat and static from your mask. You try to make it look somewhat messy by flipping your head upside down and rummaging your fingers through the roots. Flipping your head back up, you leave it like that, accepting that you're not going to be able to fix the mess on your head without showering anyway.

You stare at your exposed face once more, eyes glancing over towards your scar. You run your finger along the thick straight line that starts above your left eyebrow and ends underneath your right eye. You sigh. It brings back memories from the past anytime you look at it for too long, so you turn away from the mirror and walk out of the bathroom. You silently pray to God that the people here will spare you on your first day, not immediately bombarding you with looks or questions about how you got that massive scar on your face. That's a story for another time.

You were walking down a corridor that led to the common area. Your heart started pumping faster once you heard the muffled sounds of talking soldiers getting louder. For some reason, you were quite nervous to meet your new team. Normally you wouldn't give a shit, but you felt more vulnerable without your mask. It was the first time you decided to keep it off while meeting new people, making you feel both proud and nervous at the same time.

The doors to the common area were wide open, waiting for you to make your way inside. You take one last deep breath before you walk in. The sound of your heavy boots against the floor makes the people inside turn their heads towards the doorway. The room fell completely silent. A forced smile appeared on your face as an attempt to break through the awkward atmosphere that you just created. You were happy to the familiar man with the mohawk in the corner of the room. He had his back turned towards you as he was talking to Ghost, who stopped talking the moment he laid his eyes on you. It caused Soap to turn his head around to look at what caused the sudden silence. A sudden call of your codename surprises you.

"Viper!"

Soap walks away from Ghost, quickly grabbing something from a crate before walking over to you. The small smile on your face turns into a genuine one as you notice that he's holding two MREs. 

"I didn't think you were still coming, I honestly thought you fell asleep," he smiled, handing one MRE over to you. You thank him before speaking up.

"I almost did, but then I remembered your offer. I also never turn down food." Soap smiles at your remembrance of his comment.

"A woman to my heart. Don't expect a five-star meal tho, but it's filling," he tells you while ripping open his MRE. You try to focus on opening yours, but you can feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. You quickly glance up to look around the room, noticing that some men have returned to eating while some are still looking at you like you're a circus animal. A sudden idea pops into your head. You mockingly stare back at the ones that are still looking at you, making them quickly turn their heads away from you in embarrassment. Your eyes naturally glance over to the masked man who's still standing where Soap once stood. He's the only one not paying any attention to you. A huff escapes your lips, causing Soap to look at you before looking around the room himself.

"They're not used to seeing a woman here. Don't worry, they won't try anything. I bet you can scare 'em off with your skills anyway," he starts. "The guys are not too bad if you get to know 'em. In fact, I haven't even introduced you yet. Come on," he tells you while turning around to make his way towards a table with four men. You follow him, taking your recently unpacked MRE with you.

Soap sits down in between two men, ushering one of them away to make space for you. You hesitantly sit down, squeezing yourself on the tight bench next to Soap. Three men are seated in front of you, all occupied with their food. He clears his throat, demanding attention from the guys at the table. 

"Guys! Meet Viper, our newest addition to the team."

You share a look with the other men, who nod their heads towards you in acknowledgement. You return the action, a soft 'hello' leaving your lips. You take a bite from your beef stew, which to your surprise is actually quite okay.

"Are you the Shadow they sent?" A guy with a cap opposite you asks suddenly, making you look up towards him. His expression turns into a slightly embarrassed one when he realises how abrupt that sounded. "Sorry, that was a bit rude. I'm Gaz," the guy says while extending his hand for you to shake it, which you kindly accept.

"Viper, but I think you already knew that," you joke, making him smile. You put your fork down before continuing. "I am indeed part of the Shadow Company. Served at their base for six months before being sent here. I was, well, am a sniper, but my expertise was more needed here than in the United States," you say, intentionally leaving out the part of you being a backup sniper for most of those months.

Suddenly, a loud scoff is heard coming from another table.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is your expertise, my lady?" A guy at the end of the other table asks you in a derogatory way.

Your head snaps towards him. Soap and Gaz are staring daggers at the man who just made that comment. As a woman in the army, you were used to degrading talk from men all the time. They always thought they knew better than you and sometimes went as far as refusing to take orders from you. And here you find yet another great example to add to your endless list of annoying encounters with men.

You decide to stay calm, not feeling like throwing a fit on your first day. Instead, you opt for the safer option: giving him an honest, compelling answer to his question.

"Assassinating targets to 2500 feet away with one bullet to the head."

"Yeah right, and I can stop a bullet with my bare hands," the man laughs, causing some other guys at his table to laugh as well. You take another bite of your beef stew, giving him a fake surprised look.

"Wow, good for you," you tell him sarcastically while chewing. The guy's smile faded when he realised you couldn't care less about him. He was now starting to get annoyed, scooting closer towards you. He put his hands on his knees as he tried to give you an intimidating look. With the emphasis on tried, because he looked all but intimidating.

"Is that how you got that thing on your face? Guess you missed one of those so-called far-away targets?"

"Man, shut up," Soap told the guy sternly. 

You slowly put down your fork as frustration started to build up inside you. You took a deep breath while staring in front of you, trying your best not to explode with anger. A loud huff escapes your lips as you can't contain your annoyance any longer. 

"Listen here, you little shi-"

"Viper doesn't miss far-away targets, Henderson. That's why she's been hired to kill Hassan, and not you." 

You hadn't realised that Captain Price had come into the room, towering over the foul-mouthed private from behind. You look up at him, noticing that he's giving you a side-eye, one that tells you to keep calm. The man who you now know is named Henderson turns around and gives Price an annoyed look. He opens his mouth to say something, but he's quick to understand not to talk back to his superior. Instead, he turns back to you, staring daggers at you before getting up and walking away. He mutters something under his breath, something you can't hear. Price's eyes follow him until he's left the room, before turning to face you.

"Sorry about that, kid. Some men can't handle the fact that a female has a better shot than them."

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm used to it anyway."

"Well, forget him. He'll probably kick himself in the nuts when he finds out you can actually do what you say," Price tells you. You let out a slight chuckle while looking up at him. 

"Thanks, Captain."

Price pats your shoulder before turning around and walking towards the crate with the MREs. You notice Ghost is still standing in the same spot, but he has now focused his full attention on you. Your eyes meet for a brief moment before you look away, that weird feeling in your gut returning again.

"I fuckin' hate that bloke Henderson man, I swear to god," Soap suddenly says, making you turn your head towards him. "He always thinks he's better than everyone. I don't hate people fast, but if I do they have to be really fuckin' annoying."

"We need to put him in place sometime," Gaz suggests.

"Agreed. Throw a flash grenade at him during practice or something," Soap says while nodding his head.

You are slightly amused by this hatred towards the guy who just tried to bring you down. You've just met these people and they're already standing up for you. 

"Guys, just leave it. It'll happen again anyway," you shrug. Soap and Gaz shoot their heads towards you, giving you a confused look.

"Oh no, no, no... not on my watch," Gaz states. Soap agrees.

"He'll have to go past me first. Let's see if he can stop my fist with his bare hands." You chuckle while taking another bite of your beef stew. Soap shoots you an offended look.

"Hey, I'm being serious here!"

"You guys are sounding like my two older brothers. If I had them, that is. Thank you, but I can stand up for myself, you know," you tell them with a small smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right," Soap says, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of the chocolate pudding that was included in his MRE.

"But you kept sitting down, tho," Gaz suddenly says, suppressing a laugh. You give him a confused look.

"What?"

"You just said you can stand up for yourself. But you kept sitting down," he explains, his lips in a thin line from trying not to crack a smile. It's Soap who starts choking on his chocolate pudding that makes Gaz burst into laughter.

You glare at both of them, trying to give them an annoyed look but their laughter is making you crack up as well. The three of you just sit there, laughing over a stupid joke.

"Is this how it's going to be during my time here? Puns and dad jokes at the most random times?" you ask through laughter. Soap and Gaz nod simultaneously before Soap speaks up.

"Trust me, you haven't heard anything yet."

Soap was not joking when he said the guys can snore like bears.

You had been trying to fall asleep for the past three and a half hours, occasionally succeeding but getting awoken by the loudest snores coming from all sides of the room. 

You were currently staring up at the bed above you, counting the number of slats of the slatted base over and over again. You noticed how the bed slightly dipped in the middle from the weight of the soldier sleeping above you. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you pulled the cover over your shoulders.

Your first day at the safehouse was surprising, to say the least. The warm welcome from Price, Soap and Gaz made you feel accepted here almost immediately. They were being so nice to you, showing you around and standing up for you. That dickhead of a Henderson didn't ruin your day completely, although he made you feel a bit shitty when he mentioned your scar. Or well, he referred to it as that thing. You weren't proud of it either, but it deserved a bit more respect than that. You deserved more respect than that.

You also couldn't seem to get your mind off of Ghost for some reason. The way he stared you down when you first arrived made you feel unwanted and wanted at the same time. He had this look in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. His eyes spoke when you caught a glimpse of them in the common room during dinner, yet they said so little. He intrigued you, even though you hadn't said a word to him yet. 

You didn't understand why you felt this way. Was it the mask? Was it his mysterious look? You've always had a thing for mysterious men, somehow getting drawn to them and their secretive and inexplicable manners. But that wasn't always a good thing either, so you learned the hard way.

The thought of Ghost made you look around the room. You furrowed your eyebrows as you remembered that you hadn't seen him come in or get ready to go to sleep. In fact, you hadn't seen him at all after he caught your eye after the altercation with Henderson. You propped yourself on your elbows to look around to room. You squinted your eyes as you tried to see in the dark. You were surprised to find one empty lower bunk bed, all the way at the end of the room. The sheets were still neatly tucked into the sides and end of the bed as if they hadn't been touched all day.  The skeleton gloves on the pillow made you assume that the bed belonged to Ghost. You stare at the empty bed for a while, before being rudely ripped out of your thoughts by a deafening snore coming from Soap's direction. You roll your eyes and let out an irritated sigh before resting your head back on your pillow.

You push the sides of your pillow against your ears to muffle the sounds of snoring. The first thing you were going to do tomorrow was asking Price for a pair of earplugs. You had hoped to be knocked out the moment your body touched the bed, seeing you were quite tired this afternoon. Accepting your fate of not getting a good night's sleep right now, you decide to get up. 

You scoot towards the edge of your bed, your feet hitting the cold concrete of the ground. You hesitate to get out for a second, but you know from experience that a short walk can do so many wonders when you're not able to sleep.

You look at your tactical boots underneath your bed, a bit hesitant to put them on. You were only wearing a long sleved shirt and thin joggers, putting on the tactical boots was going to make you look like a clown. But who cares, it's not like someone was awake to judge you.

You put them on, not caring to tie the laces. You slowly rise from your bed, careful not to make any noise. The sound of your combat boots on the concrete floor is a bit too loud for your liking, but you'd be surprised if these guys were even able to wake up if there was a fire.

You almost tip-toe towards the corridor, relaxing your step once you turn the corner. You have no idea where you're going, you just wanted to get out of your bed for a bit.

Looking straight ahead, you notice that the steel door that leads towards the outside is ajar. You furrow your eyebrows, not sure if that's supposed to be open like that. Your curiosity drives your legs towards the door, the tiniest breath of fresh air hitting your face as you approach the small opening.

You slightly push against the door to peek outside. It's pitch black, since - for safety reasons - there is no light illuminating the front of the safehouse. You slip through the crack, keeping your hand on the door to not lose sight of the entrance.

The air outside is nice, much better than the scorching dry heat from during the day. The occasional gust of wind cools your skin, making you close your eyes for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of the wind through your hair.

The sudden sound of a deep voice jerks you out of your peaceful moment.

"You shouldn't be out here."

You jump as the sudden voice scares the shit out of you. You frantically look around, trying to find the source in the dark but failing. A glimmer of white to your left catches your eye. You squint at it, your eyes slowly adjusting as a broad figure leaning against the wall comes into sight. He's staring straight ahead. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realise who it is.

"Lieutenant, you almost gave me a heart attack," you tell Ghost, trying to catch your breath from the scare.

"At least it'll be a natural cause and not a bullet to your head," he suddenly says. You look at him confused.

"What?"

"As I said, you shouldn't be out here. Especially by yourself."

"Well I'm not by myself now, am I?"

You notice him turning his head towards you, taking in your appearance. You stand there awkwardly, covering yourself with your arms. The wind has made your nipples see through your shirt, for which you pray to God your lieutenant doesn't notice.

The light from inside the safehouse illuminates his eyes just enough for you the see them behind the mask. He gives you another look that you can't quite place and stays dead silent. You decide to speak up.

"I don't think I've properly introduced myself yet. I'm Viper," you tell him, extending your hand. For some reason it's slightly shaking, making you curse at yourself for looking so foolish. Your make-shift pyjamas, the combat boots, your uncombed hair... you weren't particularly looking your best right now.

Ghost looks at your hand, but he refuses to shake it.

"I know who you are."

He returns his gaze forward. You slowly drop your hand, getting a bit annoyed at his rudeness.

"Alright then. And you are?" you ask him, even though you clearly know that already.

"You just called me your lieutenant, so I think you are very much aware of that."

A huff escapes your lips. Your first time talking to your lieutenant and new partner, and he's already acting like a dick? Tell me something new about men.

"Well, if it's not safe to be out here then why are you here?" you ask him, trying to make conversation despite your annoyance.

"That's classified."

You snort, causing him to look your way again. Your eyes meet for a second, immediately shutting you up when you notice that he's not joking. He turns his head again to focus his gaze on the black abyss in front of him.

"If you say so. Don't you need sleep?"

"I don't sleep."

"Then how are you alive?"

"I barely am."

You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, the monotone sound of his voice not containing any emotion. You decide to leave it, opening your mouth to speak again.

"What is your-"

"Why are you asking me so many bloody questions?" Ghost rudely cuts you off, letting out an irritated sigh. You scoff, not letting this man think for a second that he can talk to you like that.

"Why are you being so rude?" you mock him, to which he turns his head towards you. He stares at you, not breaking eye contact once. He pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way over to you. He stops a few feet away from you, his physique towering over you. The shadow from his tall and broad body covers you, making you look up at him.

"I'm straight to the point, not rude. Get used to it."

Oh, the number of times you've heard men say they're 'straight to the point' as an excuse to talk down on you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms in front of your chest while giving Ghost a challenging look.

"Any other things I need to get used to?"

His eyes squint.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, don't apologize. As your new partner, are there any other things I should be aware of while working with you? Or is that classified too?"

The sarcastic tone with which those words flew off your tongue made you quite proud of yourself. You've learned to never let a man talk down on you, so regenerating a quick response got easier over the years. You swore you could see a hint of amusement in Ghost's eyes, but it faded just as fast.

"I didn't need a partner in the first place."

"Yeah, me neither. But it seems like we're stuck with each other until Hassan has a bullet in his skull. Then I can fuck off back to America and you can continue your harsh ways as you please."

Ghost stares at you intently, like he's trying to find something behind those (e/c) eyes of yours. You, not being intimidated by his piercing brown eyes staring into your own, put a hand on your hip and speak up again.

"So, grumpy because working together with me. Noted." you say, making a ticking-the-box motion in the air. Ghost scoffs ever so slightly, making you confused as to whether that was a laugh or a real scoff. His mask covered any signs of amusement on his face, so you suppose it's the latter.

"Listen, just follow orders and don't annoy me. Right now, you're starting to do a pretty good job at the latter already," Ghost tells you, turning around to make his way back to where he was standing.

"Christ, ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Sarcasm or not, it's still annoying. It's interrupting my duties."

You look around, confused as to what duties he is talking about at this hour. The sound of his tactical gear brushing against brick rings in your ears as he takes his stance back against the wall.

"Well, good thing you don't have any right now then."

"Who says I don't? Just because you don't see them doesn't mean I don't have them."

You nod, deciding not to argue with him about that since you knew he was probably right. You stand there in awkward silence for a couple of seconds, neither of you speaking up. You look down towards your boots who have been sprinkled with a light beige by the dust of the desert. Ghost's voice catches your attention.

"You're playing with your own safety by being out here. Go back inside. That's an order."

He didn't look at you while he said that, as he continued to stare ahead. You look at him, for some reason hoping that he'd take one last glance at you. He doesn't, causing you to look around the perimeter one last time. You take a deep breath of the chilly nightly desert air, as you position your hand against your head, sarcastically saluting your lieutenant.

"Aye, aye, captain, I mean, lieutenant."

You turn your back towards him, making your way inside. You grab the door handle, slamming the door closed a little too loud for the hour.

This is going to be one hell of a ride.

~

PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: This chapter was so hard to write lol. I kept rewriting the bit where Viper and Ghost meet cuz I wasn't too sure about it. I hope you guys liked it anyway. In the next chapter, we will learn more about the thoughts and feelings of the mysterious masked man himself ieieieie

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #cod fanfic #ghost fanfiction #cod soap #cod price #cod gaz #cod ghost #john soap mactavish #captain price #kyle gaz garrick

[uaremyjae]

[ SPOILER ONE PIECE CHAP. 1105 ]

IS THE UNKNOWN PARTY APPEAR AT EGGHEAD WILL BE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY?

Okay so I have read the summary spoilers this morning and oh boy, the title itself is funny like “ THE PEAK OF SEVERE STUPIDITY” like what’s that even mean oda???

Anyway I want to talk about the last part of the chapter where it’s says that there’s unknown party has pulled at egghead and destroyed Marines warship that going after the escape technicians & research teams of Egghead. And the Marine frantically asked to call for Admiral Kizaru and tell him that “ They’re heading to Egghead” ?? 👀 This unknown party must be a very huge threat that it requires for Admiral Kizaru attention.

Some people thinks of maybe Blackbeard Pirates, I was like nah Blackbeard helping escapees in a broad daylight? That’s very uncharacteristic of BB Pirates where they all go for sneaky & stealthy attack. Besides BB already at Egghead.

Some people said maybe it’s Neo MADS. 🤷‍♀️ I am not onboard with that idea but it could be a wild card who knows. I’m not Oda. Why I think it’s not Neo MADS is that Judge is not that stupid to come to egghead Island with his bigass snails 🐌 ship with potential catch strays along in the Buster Calls. It’s better for them to watch Vegapunk downfall since they both wanted that and get the chance to be hire by WG.

Revolutionary Army?

Ooh that’s what makes me feel like ITS POSSIBLE. Ok some people said “ RA is at Momoiro Island at the Grand line Paradise. There’s no way they can arrived at Egghead that fast.”

Seriously? Did everyone forget that Shanks pull up at Marineford from New World? When he literally stopped Kaido from coming a day before execution? 😬

And you think Revolutionary Army only resides at Grand Line? Ofc that’s their HQ and they must have their branches at every sea. See that’s what people forgot about the whole RA’s structure. And Dragon did mention before founding RA that he want to raise into a massive armed force scattered across the globe. Did he make it? YES!

You see RA’s has 4 captains for each blue sea forces. East Blue; Bello Betty, West Blue; Morley, South Blue;Lindbergh, North Blue; Karasu and each seas has their own team led by those captains. You are here telling me RA’s doesn’t have a team that resides at New World?

And the panel of where Vegapunk via Shaka ( RIP shaka mann 😭) talk with somebody that he can see that his death is about to happen and it turns out, it’s DRAGON who he is talking to. Another thing that seems possible is that Dragon asked Ivan opinion of where would Kuma heading to if a fragment of his true instinct still there. AND THE CLIFFHANGER THERE 🧐

I think He’ll— go where Iva? I think Iva knew Kuma will be heading to where his daughter is. Remember the exchange of how “ Child is Parents’ Weaknesses” from Dragon to Kuma? And with Shaka in contact with Dragon, there might possibility that Shaka inform him about Luffy & Bonney is on the island and the assassination planned on VP.

Judging by how the latest ending chapter turns out, the chances that RA pulled up to prevent lives of Egghead become like Ohara is quite high. Like the whole reveal about how Dragon told Vegapunk he will create military forces that can fight back after Ohara incident on Ohara remains must be hint of the future moves that RA will do during this arc.

Regardless, who are going to be there doesn’t matter. But if the RA catch the words that the Gorosei is at egghead and also stayed at the island with Kizaru while the Buster Call starts , well dragon appear to assist the RA & took Straw Hats under their care temporarily might be it. Probably escorted them to Elbaf.

How about Straw Hat Grand Fleet? Well yes it’s possible too! At this point, im sure the news about the Straw Hats vs Navy has been reported by Big News Morgan and the fleet took notice about it. Here’s the thing about Straw Hat Grand Fleet, what has been reported that seven powerful pirate groups under Straw Hats but no names mention on which pirates. So it’s interesting to see what happened soon!

#one piece #op spoiler #revolutionary army #Dr. Vegapunk #monkey d dragon #bartholomew kuma #egghead arc

[macravishedbymactavish]

Logan Walker x F! Reader

TW: Typical COD violence, swearing, everyone's a fair bit traumatized after the Canon Ghosts ending

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Chapter 01

It was silent, tense in the room. You leaning against his desk, while he sat on the edge of his bed avoiding your gaze.

"Talk to me" you whispered, ignoring the internal moral debate inside you pushed, "let me in".

Part of you believed this was selfish. Prodding and prying at any loose board in his barricade, trying to find a way in to an area he clearly didn't want you to see. He's been through hell and back! He'll open up when he's ready to.

The other part argues that hell is not a place but rather a mindset. An eternal downward spiral that he won't be able to get out of himself. So we let him drown? Let the demons pull him under and make him forget which way is up?

"I can't". It was a broken whisper, you held back the sad sigh as his hands cradled his head. Fingers weaving and gripping lightly at his short hair. "I won't." Won't put you through everything I've endured. Won't give you the same trauma and mental scars.

"Why not?" Right as the words left your mouth, you were kicking yourself. Fighting a grimace as you watched his fingers tighten, his shoulders roll further forward. Even the length of his hair is a stark reminder at what they took. The knotting and matting made it inhumane to try and brush out. Your heart broke when he admitted to you that he barely recognized himself after they shaved it off.

"Because you won't understand." He answered through gritted teeth, taking in a sharp breath. "You will never understand what I've been through". When his gaze finally met yours, you saw the redness surrounding his eyes, the tears staining his cheeks, the face of the beaten down, broken, damned boy who just wanted to do some good.

Without saying a word, you slowly took a step forward and kneeled in front of where he sat. Hand reaching up to touch his knee.

You can't deny the pain that shot through your heart when he flinched away from your touch. Moving to sit against the wall, knees curled into his chest as he once again looked anywhere in the room but at you.

"You've been through more than anyone I know; I'll never understand the exact extent of what you've been through....but please. Let me help. Let me in" you pleaded. Blinking back your own tears, leaning backward on your knees as you saw him shake with each inhale.

"I'm a monster. I'm the ghost killer" he started, tears falling freely as he stared at one of the old posters he had hanging in his room. "I'm not who you know anymore. That much should be clear" he gestured toward your wrist -- which was still in a brace from an incident that happened over a month ago. A week after he was rescued.

"You and I both know that wasn't intentional. You were acting out of survival" you pressed.

Weeks prior

"It's so surreal, having him back" you whispered, eyes trained on the sleeping figure beside you. It had been a rough week to say the least, Logans body still in fight or flight (often choosing fight). The amount of required sedation becoming less and less each day.

"You're telling me" Hesh mumbled, sitting in the far corner. Close enough to know his brother was alive, far enough to expose the guilt he harbored. "I've got training in about 10 or so minutes with the new recruits for Delta squad". He always had trouble staying for too long lately, the belief that he caused this for his brother overwhelming.

"Of course. I'll be here, the others will be by later on I'd imagine". There was seldom a time during the day when Logan's room wasn't occupied by a visitor. Even sedated the Ghosts refused to let him be without his family for too long, he had enough of that for one lifetime already.

Minutes turned into hours, as you sat in the chair beside the bed reading. Focused on the chapter, you didn't notice the movement from the bed. That is until he was directly in front of you.

"Logan?" You looked up, giving him a soft smile as you put the book aside. "What's going on love?" Your eyes scanned over him. His posture tense, breathing hard and he looked terrified.

"Logan. What's going on?" You asked again, slow and concerned. Not expecting him to suddenly swing, and a sharp pain below your left hand. You cussed loudly, shoving against his chest. "What the hell?!" You screamed, hearing the rushed footsteps of the medical staff come in before he could do much more. Tears streaking down your face, as his scream of pure horror engraved itself into your mind. Like an animal cornered.

"Are you alright? You're bleeding" you heard one of the nurses ask, gesturing toward your arm. You shrugged, letting her lead you to get examined.

Stab wound to left forearm. You're off all duty for at least a month.

--

"Is that really what you're telling yourself?" He spat, glaring daggers at you.

"It's the truth. You've come so far since then Logan." He really did. For the last week you've been sleeping in the same bed again. His smile was so bright the first morning after, whispering that he was finally finding some normalcy in his life after everything that happened.

Then today happened.

"Keep telling yourself that then." He whispered, tone cold as he pushed himself off the bed and left the room. Leaving you kneeling on the floor shaking, it's just one bad day. These days happen.

--

"How are you holding up?" You heard Merrick ask, as he walked in the kitchen to where you were currently brewing a tea. Hoping the warm liquid would calm your nerves.

"It's a bad day. It happens. We work through them" you shrugged, bobbing the teabag in the water with two fingers on your left hand, while the other gripped the cup. Sapping up the warmth.

"It's not your responsibility to bare, kid. It's not your responsibility to fix him" you paused at his words. Knowing to some extent he was right.

This entire year had taken a massive toll on the entire team. Though nobody wanted to admit it.

Hesh was terrified. He can't even try to imagine losing his last family member for a second time. He can't fail like that again. So he unconsciously distances himself, using work and the ongoing war against the Federation as his coping mechanism. Can't stew in the memory of watching your younger brother get pulled away by the enemy while you sit helplessly if you're constantly working.

Keegan was....well Keegan. A good man in a storm, calm within the chaos. Or just really good at masking his emotions. Twice now he held his friends and teammates while they've been close to death or dying. It takes a toll on you, but helps you respect life while you have it.

Merrick is figuring out everything as he goes. Only taking time to feel the hurt, fear and range of emotions in the dark of night. He lost someone who he considered his mentor and brother, then a teammate his first mission in the commander role. But as heavy is the head that holds the crown, he can also see his team struggling to keep afloat. So emotions aside while they need him.

"I know. I'm not trying to fix him" you whispered, not able to find any arguments to prove the point. Knowing that you're lying through your teeth. God what would you give to have your Logan back. What you would give to take his hurt away and ensure he never went through any of this again. "We had a bad day, but working through it". You felt yourself shaking, holding in the emotions that threatened to boil over. There's been so many bad days since he's been back. The bad days are beginning to outweigh the good...

"Shit!" You snapped, boiling hot tea spilling onto your hand. Tears now falling freely, only half related to the physical pain you were experiencing. Your mind numb now that everything was finally spilling into tears as you were guided to the sink. Cool water now replacing the burning sensation as an arm wrapped around your shaking shoulders.

"I just want him back." You sobbed softly, not needing to explain your point as you were squeezed tightly.

"We all do" Merrick started with a soft sigh. "We're all in this together, you know that. You can't help him before yourself". You closed your eyes, hating that he was right.

"Not that I expect you to listen, but don't take this responsibility all on your own. And remember anything he says in the moment isn't about you. Like the doctors told us. It's going to be a long, slow process" you nodded. Feeling your heart sink into your stomach.

"We'll be okay. All of us" you have never hoped for your commander to be right more than you did in this moment.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221

#call of duty ghosts #logan walker #logan walker x reader #cod logan #keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts fanfiction #comearoundfic

[sixpennydame]

The Better Man, Chapter 5

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Content/Warnings: NSFW, minors do not interact, PTSD symptoms, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, just a lot of angst

A/N: This chapter has a lot of plot development and took a lot out of me! I want to thank @mrsackermannx @youre-ackermine and @dont-f-with-moogles for their help and support. <3

Suggested music:

“Survey Corps incoming! Open the gate!” one of The Garrison yells from the top of the wall. 

“Mr. Meyer, The Corps is returning. I’ll be right back,” you say as you wipe your hands on your apron before taking it off. Your new job as a baker’s assistant was a lucky find; it kept you busy while Lars was away and Mr. Meyer, the owner, always let you take time off to see Lars return. 

“Of course, y/n, go welcome back that husband of yours. I hope this was a more successful mission.”

You run through the winding roads of Trost until you get to the city square; the same routine you’ve had after every Survey Corps expedition for over two years. Some returns are more successful than others, but the results are often the same: a little knowledge gained, but at the cost of so many lives.

Lars has survived fourteen expeditions so far, along with his long-time comrades Gunther, Eld, and of course, Levi. Rarely do corpsmen survive more than ten - a true testament to their skill. But a soldier doesn’t survive that many missions without it having an effect on them; it leaves scars on their body and their mind, and Lars was no exception to this.

Looking back, you should have noticed the slight changes even during those first expeditions. Lars cared deeply about others, so when a comrade would die during a mission, even if they weren’t part of his squad, it hit him especially hard. “If Levi or I would have been there, we could have saved them,” he’d lament. You’d try to use those moments to get him to leave the Corps, as Levi had suggested, but every time he’d refuse. “I dedicated my heart to this cause,” he’d say, “I’m not giving up.”

A few days rest and relaxation with you was often just the medicine Lars needed to bring him back to his normal self. Trost was a lonely place without him, and so you treasured the times when he was able to be with you. Even the simple things, like cooking dinner, were more special in his presence. His arm would wrap around your waist while you were at the stove. “I’m so glad I’ve survived another day so I can come home to you,” he would say, giving you a kiss on the neck. 

But as time went on and a year turned into two, he stopped telling you about the missions and the friends he’d lost. He started staying longer at HQ rather than return home during his leave periods, and when he did come home, he would go out drinking with his comrades. It almost seemed as if he was uncomfortable being alone with you; when you two were finally with each other, all he wanted to do was sleep or read. 

Nighttime was even more difficult. Sometimes he’d wake in a cold sweat, calling out a comrade’s name. You’d hold him until he fell back asleep. And this was one of the only times lately that he even wanted to be close to you. He would often bristle at your touch, and on the rare times he’d have sex with you, he felt distant, as if his mind was in a completely different place. 

The light that used to shine so brightly around Lars had started to fade.

But he was your husband; you promised to support him through good times and bad. 

And so before every expedition, you watched the two men you love ride out that gate, praying for them both to return. Because through all this, you’d never really forgotten about Levi. Of course, you knew things were over between the two of you and you rarely said anything to him other than a greeting or cordial conversation, but it seethed under the surface: a stolen glance in your direction, feeling your stomach turn in knots as he stood next to you, talking to a comrade. Lars was the man of your heart, but Levi was never far from your mind.

Hearing the horses and wagons approaching, you wait, once again hoping that Lars and Levi are safe and unharmed. 

—---

You’re closing up the pub and wiping down the bar when you see a familiar figure in the doorway. It’s been almost a year since your first date with Lars, and in that time, you’ve become more and more fond of him. He’s kind, considerate, and treats you with respect. Although he obviously has had feelings for you since the beginning, he’s never forced you to make any decisions about your growing relationship; it’s all happened slowly, organically. 

Your days don’t often coincide: he’s training in the mornings and afternoons and you work at night, but whenever he can escape the base he waits for you and walks you home. “It’s too dangerous for you to walk by yourself,” he’ll insist, and you’ll reply that you’ve been taking care of yourself for much longer than you’ve known him. 

“True, but..I’m here now. And you’re too precious for anything bad to happen to you.”

Sometimes you’d walk together aimlessly through the streets, ending up outside of town and sitting and talking until the sun came up. One evening, as he gently held your hand and told you about his four other siblings, you moved closer to him and laid your head on his shoulder. You felt his strong arm wrap around you and his head lean on top of yours.

“Y/n, I think I might be falling in lo-”

You sit up to look at him, stopping him mid-sentence. “Lars…I care for you - a lot - but I’m not ready for that kind of confession,” you tell him as you place your hands in his. “I just need some time.”

Lars is surprised at first, but then gives you his boyish smile. “Of course. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”

And that is what Lars did. You would see other women flirt with him, but his eyes never swayed away from you. And the way he would look at you - it made your heart skip a beat. He made you feel important and precious.

But most of all, he made you feel loved. 

It’s been three months since that initial confession and he’s still here, waiting for you as he always does. You look up and smile; you hadn’t seen him for over a week and you missed him. 

“Finally,” you tease, throwing your rag on the bar and taking off your apron, “It’s been so long, I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“Y/n, you know that’s impossible,” he replies, as you walk over to hug him and give him a quick kiss. “Now, let’s get out of here. I’ve got something planned.”

You raise your eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“You’ll see soon enough. But we have to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

Lars hoists himself up on his horse, then puts out his hand. You look at him suspiciously, then grab his hand as he lifts you up. You wrap your arms around him and he rides through the street.

“Where are we going?”

Lars looks back at you but says nothing as he continues to ride out of town. The further you go, the more the horse’s pace quickens. Soon, the forest surrounding Jinae clears into the most beautiful meadow. Lars helps you off his horse and you look around. The full moon casts a cool glow over the landscape of rolling hills and as you look up, you see an endless amount of stars. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” you exclaim.

“Just wait…you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

You both look up at the sky and after a few minutes, there’s a light that glitters across the sky. Then three. Then more and more until the sky is showered in glittering light.

“What…What is this?” you ask, amazed.

“It’s a phenomenon that happens every ten years, or so I’ve been told,” Lars answers. “Scientists aren’t quite sure what causes it, but they call them ‘falling stars’.”

Lars looks at you lovingly. “It’s such a rare event..I wanted to share it with you. Because I love you.” 

He grabs your hands and you look up at him. “I’ve loved you from the moment I set eyes on you, but I think you already know that.”

You're speechless and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. You listen to Lars’ confession, but this time, you don’t stop him.

“I’ve been selected to join a new squad being developed in The Survey Corps: the Special Operations Squad. I will be relocating to the main headquarters near Trost next month.”

“Oh…so you’re leaving.” You assume this is his way of telling you goodbye. Your heart sinks - yet again, you’re being left behind.

“I am, but I want you to come with me.” 

His eyes sparkle. “I don’t want to lose you, y/n. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen into saucers. You were not expecting this. “Marry you?”

“I know, it’s sudden and I would never want to pressure you. But I can’t imagine living my life without you by my side. These last few months, I’ve felt that more and more. I know my line of work is dangerous, but I will fight every day to stay alive - to protect humanity and most of all, to protect you.”

He loves you. He wants to protect you. You’ve heard this before, from another man you once loved. 

You’ve been resisting the fact that you’ve fallen in love with Lars, for fear of forgetting Levi and the promises made to him. But Levi is gone. He’s never coming back. 

And Lars is here, alive, offering you his hand and his love. 

“Yes..” you answer quietly, “yes, Lars. I’ll marry you.”

“I’m not perfect, and honestly, I don’t think I deserve you; but I love you and I promise to be a good partner, no matter what happens in life.”

He cups your cheek with his hand. “Noone’s perfect. Your imperfections are what make you the person you are,” he moves closer, “the woman I love, with my whole heart.”

Your lips meet, and he kisses you under the shower of shooting stars.

——

You wait in the city center, as you always do, and soon you see the wagons of injured followed by the rest of the Corps. There don’t seem to be many in the wagons and most are in good spirits. 

As you walk through the crowd, you see two of Lars’ comrades. Petra and Oluo are the newest members, who joined a few months ago. For the most part, the Levi Squad has been successful at keeping each other alive and being able to manage the most difficult of titans. 

“Petra, Oluo, welcome back. So glad to see you both safe,” you look around, “have you seen Lars?”

Petra gets off her horse. “I think he’s with Levi. They’re both getting treated for some injuries.”

They both see the sudden concern in your eyes. “It’s nothing big. I don’t think anything can kill those two,” Oluo reassures.

You give them a worried smile as you rush into the hospital, where you find them both sitting uncomfortably as a doctor finishes up putting some stitches in Lars’ arm. 

A nurse blocks your way. “You’re not supposed to be in here, ma’am.”

You ignore her warnings and push past her as you walk straight over to the two men.

When Levi sees you nearly tackle through the nursing staff, the corners of his mouth raise into the tiniest smile. You never did let people stand in your way.

“Are you two ok? What happened?” You ask both of them. You see a bandage on Levi’s head, under the fringe of his hair and you reach out to get a better look. He flinches, but this is the first time in over two years that he’s felt the touch of your hand. His cheeks blush slightly.

“We’re fine, just a few stitches on my forehead, and your dumbass husband was trying to play the hero again and almost got eaten.”

Lars grins. “Hey, it worked though. And Oluo was in a pinch.”

You wait until the doctor makes the last stitch and wraps the bandages around Lars’ arm before you place your hand on his.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” you say, relieved.

He pulls his hand back almost immediately. “I’m good.” Your eyes show concern and shock at his blunt reaction, and his voice softens. “Why don’t you go back to work? I’ll be back home tonight.” His voice has a forced reassurance to it.

Levi sees the hurt in your eyes at Lars’ curt reply and can feel the tension between you. Then you put on a smile that he knows is covering up your true feelings.

“Of course, darling. I’ll have dinner waiting for you.” You hesitantly move closer to kiss Lars on the cheek, which he concedes to reluctantly. Your fake smile disappears for a moment, but comes back when you look at Levi. “Captain..” is all you can say before you stand up and leave.

Gunther, Eld, Petra, and Oluo pass you in the hallway as they enter the treatment room. 

“Of all the people to be injured, I never thought it’d be your two,” Gunther chides as he sits next to Lars.

“Tch, I wouldn’t count either of us as injured, but Erwin insists we follow protocol,” Levi says, crossing his arms.

“You scared me there for a minute though, Lars. Don’t do that again!” Petra says, punching him in his uninjured arm.

“Ow! Maybe if you were as cruel to the titans as you are to me, your kill count would be higher.”

Levi notices a change in Lars as he’s talking to Petra and the others. His face lights up and he’s lively again; a drastic difference to how he behaved with you. It concerns him.

“Oi, let’s get out of here and back to headquarters. You all deserve some rest,” he looks at Lars. “And you - go home to your wife. We can unload without you.”

“But Captain, that’s not fair of me to~”

“That’s an order,” Levi says sternly. 

He doesn’t know what is going on with you two, but he does know that how Lars treated you wasn’t right. The least he can do is force the idiot to go home and take care of you.

——

As you prepare dinner, you think about Lars’ behavior towards you. He’s been acting distant for a while, and you’re embarrassed he acted that way in front of Levi. You don’t want him knowing there’s tension between you two, but Levi is incredibly perceptive. 

An hour goes by, then two, as you sit at the table waiting for your husband. Finally, he comes through the door. You stand up and he walks over to kiss you on the cheek. He smells of alcohol.

“Where have you been? I made dinner but it’s probably cold by now.”

“I stopped by the pub to see a few friends. I hadn’t been by for a while so I wanted to prove that I was still alive,” he replies nonchalantly.

“You should have come by here first, then I could have gone with you.” You try to disguise your frustration with an optimistic tone.

“Naw, you wouldn’t have enjoyed it.” He grabs a piece of bread and walks toward the washroom. “Oof…I really need to take a bath,” he remarks as he closes the door.

You heat some water on the stove, then knock on the door of the washroom. As you fill up the bathtub, Lars takes off his clothes. There are bruises across his chest, arms, and legs from the ODM straps, which now seem to be a permanent part of his body. Lars notices you looking at the stitched gash on his bicep. “I had a bit of a close call with a titan and he almost got my arm. But it’s just a flesh wound.”

He eases his body into the hot, steaming water. “I got lucky.”

You sit next to the tub, taking a soapy wash rag and rubbing it over his chest. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re a skilled Corpsman.”

“Lots of skilled Corpsmen get eaten out there every mission. It’s just not my time yet.”

There’s a tone of morbidity in his voice, so unlike the Lars you met in that tavern in Jinae four years ago. 

“Hey…why don’t we get out of the city for a bit. Maybe take a trip out to the countryside, just the two of us.”

“That sounds nice, but I only have one day of leave, then I’ll have to get back to headquarters. Commander Smith wants to update us on some new research Squad Leader Zoe has been doing. I really can’t miss that.”

“Right.” You push the disappointment down. “Of course, you can’t miss that.”

You give Lars some privacy as he finishes his bath, and he eventually enters the bedroom where you are reading a book by candlelight. He gets into the covers next to you. 

“Are you liking that book I got you?” He asks, plumping his pillow.

“I am, but I didn’t think it was going to get so sad so quickly.”

“It really does, but the characters are interesting.”

You talk about the book and for the first time in so long, you two are connecting over a common interest. You’ve been so starved for his attention, you suck up every morsel of conversation. For a moment, you see a glimpse of the old Lars. 

You close your book and put it on the bed stand, shifting in the bed. Your nightshirt falls off your shoulder as you cup his face with your hand.

“Lars…I’ve missed you so much,” you whisper and then kiss his lips gently. It takes him a moment, but soon he’s leaning into your touch and his tongue enters your mouth. The kisses are gentle and apprehensive, but filled with longing. In your over eagerness, you move your hands from his face to his chest. When you get to his crotch, he takes your hand and moves his lips away from yours.

“Y/n…I can’t. I’m just….I’m so tired. I really need to get some sleep, ok?” He says as he takes your hand and places it on your lap. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses you, puts out the candle next to the bed and rolls over, his back facing you.

Rejected, you lie down and pull the covers tightly, biting your bottom lip to keep from crying. Tomorrow’s a new day, you tell yourself. It’ll be better tomorrow.

Lars spends the following day with you, as promised; you take a walk through the market and have lunch in your favorite park. Lars even holds your hand, but none of it feels real. It’s as if you’re both wearing masks, pretending that everything’s fine. You and he both know it’s a facade, but neither of you are willing to cross that line and talk about your feelings. 

To be honest, you’re afraid of what you might find should you dig deeper. Perhaps Lars is falling out of love with you. Maybe he finally sees you for who you really are: just an underground rat who won’t amount to anything. Will he leave you, just like Levi did? Are you destined to be rejected by everyone you love?

So you pretend that everything’s fine. And when it’s time for Lars to return to Headquarters, you hug him tightly and tell him you love him. 

“I’ll be waiting for you to come home, Lars. I’ll always…be here…no matter what,” you reassure him, hoping to see or feel the old Lars. The man you fell in love with.

You feel his arms wrap around you, while his chest rises and falls with a deep sigh. “Y/n, I..” he pauses. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.” Then he lets go of you and walks out the door.

——

It’s unseasonably hot for late autumn, and going through training exercises feels especially difficult, even for the Special Operations Squad. Levi gives them a few minutes rest while he resets the mannequins from the tree tops. Below, Lars and Gunther sit beneath a large pine tree.

“What’s going on with you today, Lars? You seem distracted,” Gunther asks.

“I don’t know…,” Lars sighs, leaning against the rough trunk of the tree, “things between me and y/n have been difficult lately.”

“You had a fight?”

“No, nothing like that. I just…can’t talk with her anymore. I want to, but the things I’ve seen…that I’ve done. It’s hard to talk about. And even if I did tell her, I don’t think she’d understand.”

Standing on a tree limb high above, Levi can hear the conversation. He stops what he’s doing as Lars continues.

“I come home, after seeing friends and comrades die, and I’m just supposed to flip a switch to be happy and act like everything’s fine? I can’t do that. And when she tries to connect with me, for some reason it just makes me more pissed off.” Lars leans his head into his hands and massages his temples. “I wish I could talk to her like I can talk with you, or Petra, or anybody else on the squad.”

Gunther leans back on his forearms, eyes looking out into the distance. “Lars, how can she understand if you don’t tell her? This life has got to be hard for her too. She loves you. Give her a chance.”

“You’re right. It just feels like…the longer I’m with the Squad and fighting outside the walls, the less I feel connected to her.”

“It probably feels that way because you spend so much time apart from each other. Next time you’re out with all of us, you should invite her as well. You used to do that all the time back in training academy.”

Levi continues to listen from atop a tree branch. So that’s why things seemed so strained between you two, he thinks. He imagines you, patiently waiting to be loved by Lars, but each expedition keeps him further away from you mentally and physically. He wants to fly down from this tree, punch Lars in the face and tell him to get his act together and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. But then he realizes he hurt you too - he has no room to talk. 

That evening, there’s a knock on Levi’s office door and Gunther enters. 

“Commander Smith said that he would allow us a small party here at Headquarters in celebration of our success last expedition and to give us some down-time,” Gunther says as Levi listens intently. “I was wondering if Lars’ wife, y/n, could join us here for that weekend as well. I…think it would be good for them,” he confesses reluctantly.

Levi leans forward, in thought. “It’s unusual, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything. I’ll tell the Commander you have my approval.”

As Gunther salutes and turns to walk out, Levi adds, “Shouldn’t Lars be the one asking for this?”

“He should,” Gunther admits, “but I don’t think he knows what’s good for him right now.”

So now you’ll be at Headquarters for the weekend. It’s hard for him to see you with Lars, but if it will make you happy, he’ll get through it.

——

The following weekend, you take a carriage to Survey Corps HQ, after receiving an invitation a few days prior. There was no indication of who the sender was, but the invitation was to join a celebration for a successful mission season. You’ll take any chance you can get to spend more time with Lars, but you wonder why he wasn’t the one sending the letter, since he would have signed it if he had. 

The last time you’d been to Headquarters was three years ago when you confronted Levi in his office. Well, a confrontation wasn’t all that happened that day..

..You shake the thoughts of that day from your mind. You’re not here for Levi, you’re here for Lars, you tell yourself. You’re tired of feeling so distant from his life; maybe this weekend is just the thing that will bring you back together. 

That optimistic outlook takes you all the way through the gate, but quickly dissipates when you see Lars and the rest of the squad returning from training. The surprise and confusion is all over his face when he sees you.

“Hey…what..are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” you take the note out of your pocket and hand it to him, “I guess you didn’t send this.” You feel your heart drop.

“I didn’t. I had no idea you were coming.”

“…Sur..prise!” Gunther says as he steps out from the group. “I thought it’d be good for y/n to come out here and spend some time with us, all together. Weren’t you just saying that the other day, Lars?”

“Yeah..yeah, I was saying that.” He looks around at everyone, then at you. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, as he puts his arm around you. “Let’s go get ready for this party.”

You’re given a more private room to share with Lars, away from the soldier’s quarters, and while Lars cleans up, you pace the floor. Are you even wanted here? You feel awkward, as if you’ve infringed on some kind of secret club, even though you know many of these men and women well.

But when you and he enter the canteen, there are no judgmental faces. Several comrades of Lars greet you, and you’re instantly made to feel welcome. But perhaps the most surprising thing was the change in Lars. Suddenly, that light was shining around him again, and he was laughing and telling jokes. 

Cases of beer and various liquors are brought in. “Now it’s a party!” Oluo cheers. 

You walk over and start to mix and serve some drinks, hoping that if you keep yourself busy you’ll be less nervous. You’re able to meet more people, which is nice since you’re often so lonely, but your whole reason for being here was to spend time with Lars, and he’s disappeared from your sight. 

Just as you’re about to leave and look for him, Levi steps up to the table.

“They’ve got you working?”

“I offered. As you know, I have lots of experience making drinks.” You grab a glass. “You still prefer whiskey, neat?”

He nods. “Some things never change.”

You pour one for him and yourself. “I suppose they don’t.” You clink glasses, down yours in one shot, and immediately pour another.

“You should pace yourself.”

Down goes another one. “Consider it liquid courage. Now excuse me, I need to go find my husband.”

The soldiers have all gathered in small and large groups around the tables, laughing, singing, and some playing cards. You’re beginning to wonder if Lars left without you, but then you see him sitting at a table in the corner with Petra, Gunther, and a few others. As you start walking towards the group, you pause. Lars looks so happy, so comfortable around them; you haven’t seen him like that in months. He must have said something to make them all laugh, and you notice Petra placing her hand on his arm. It’s quickly moved, probably just a reaction to the moment, but you feel jealous.

When you join them, they’re still laughing. “Lars was just telling us about the time he and I were cadets and we snuck out of the barracks to try to use ODM gear. It was a disaster!” Gunther explains, a beer in his hand. Lars has barely recognized your presence. 

“Or how about that time Lars forgot to check his gas canister before training and he slammed into the ground in mid-flight. How did you not break any bones?,” another comrade adds.

“Yeah, I think I was in the Med Hall and out like a light for a few days after that,” Lars remarks with a laugh.

“You what? When did that happen?” He’d never told you about that.

Lars brushes you off. “It was nothing..happened a while back.” His focus is back on his comrades. “What’s the big deal about a few knocks on the head anyway when you might be eaten the next day, am I right?”

You can tell from his eyes that Lars is drunk. You’re starting to feel the effects of the drinks you had as well, as your anger and frustration with his behavior towards you grows. “That’s not funny Lars. You shouldn’t joke about being killed.”

All the laughs stop as Lars looks at you. “What do you even know about it, huh? Nothing. You can’t imagine what it’s like out there, y/n. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t joke about.”

A loud clap of thunder shakes the room, and everyone looks outside the large windows as rain starts to fall. 

“Dying isn’t a joke. Being hurt isn’t a joke,” you respond in a raised voice. “This isn’t like you.”

Lars barely lets you finish your remark before he’s standing up and facing you. “What does that even mean? Maybe you just don’t know me anymore.” His voice gets louder and people start to notice, including Levi. “Why are you even here tonight? This isn’t your world!”

Petra stands and puts her hand on Lars’ shoulder. “Lars, maybe you two should go talk about this someplace private..”

Months of pent-up frustration are suddenly communicated in two sentences: “Go back to Trost, y/n! I don’t need you here!” 

Tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes so you turn to leave the hall as fast as you can. You’ll be damned if you cry in front of all these people. Lars doesn’t stop you. 

——

The rain is relentlessly pouring down as you walk around aimlessly. What Lars said hurt you, and now you don’t even know where he is. Maybe he’s with Petra, you think to yourself. Sadness and jealousy sting your heart, and you wonder if you should just walk in the rain back to Trost; but then you pass by the officer’s quarters and see a light in Levi’s window.

The next thing you know, you’re knocking on his door.

Levi had seen how Lars treated you at the party, and the hurt in your eyes as you stormed out. He’d wanted to run after you, to see if you were ok, but he figured Lars had found you by now and you’d already made up. 

He’s starting a fire in the fireplace when he hears a light knock on his door. It’s too late for visitors, so he hesitantly opens the door to find you standing there.

His eyes widen. You’re sopping wet from head to toe, your clothes clinging to your body. With tear-stained eyes, you plead, “Levi…can I come in?”

He knows he should say no. His head is telling him that this is dangerous, but his heart..

…his heart can’t stand to see you there in so much pain. He opens the door a little wider and gestures for you to come in, checking the hallway to see if anyone might have seen you before closing and locking his door.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” 

“Good question.”

“Where’s Lars?”

You scoff. “Who knows. Probably with Petra.”

He sees you shivering and hands you a blanket, which you wrap around you. “I doubt that. He just needs some time to cool off. He’ll be fine in the morning.”

“But I don’t know if I’ll be fine,” you respond, “Lars has been so…strange lately. Like a completely different person. He won’t talk to me; he barely even acknowledges me. It’s worse after every expedition.” 

Levi listens as he stokes the fire. He can’t look at you right now. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk about what we see out there, y/n. Be patient with him - he’ll come around.”

“He probably has no problem talking to Petra about it. They seem so…comfortable with each other,” he can hear the jealousy in your voice. You see a bottle of whiskey on his desk and fill two glasses.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“Getting a drink to warm me up. I figured you’d want one too.”

He can smell alcohol on you. “I think you’ve drunk enough tonight.”

“Oh please. Can you stop acting like my father and just be my friend,” you laugh, “not that my father ever cared about what I did.”

He takes the drink hesitantly. “I just don’t want you to make any decisions you’ll regret. I know what a lightweight you are.”

“Now, what possible bad decisions could I make in this room with you?” you tease, biting your bottom lip.

“After this drink, you should go. Lars will be worried,” Levi warns.

You ignore the warning. “You know, he doesn’t even want to have sex with me anymore. He doesn’t kiss me when he returns from an expedition…He won’t even touch me..” you say, slumping down on the sofa. “I just want to be touched,” you look at Levi with needy eyes, “is that so wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re only human.”

“And what about ‘Humanity’s Strongest’? Aren’t you human too? Do you ever want to be touched?”

“It’s unfair of you to ask me that question.”

“Why is that?”

Levi feels this conversation going into dangerous territory, but like all things with you, he ignores his better judgment. He looks down at his glass of whiskey. “If I’m honest, the way this life is, I don’t want to touch someone right now; I want to fuck.” 

His eyes darken, running his finger along the rim of his glass before he takes it to his lips and downs it in one shot. “Like I said - human.”

He walks over to his desk and pours another drink. You stand up and walk toward him, leaving the blanket behind.

“Do you ever think about it, Levi? Us. The things we used to do?” You move closer. “What we did the last time we were in this room together?”

He turns around to see you in front of him, your wet blouse clinging to your breasts, your nipples hardening under the wet fabric. Seeing you like this brings out a side of him that he works hard to suppress. But he can’t tonight.

“Is it really your business what I think about when I’m stroking my cock?”

He catches the fire in your eyes and he knows he went too far. Resigned, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

There it is: the Levi you’ve known for years, the man who was never afraid to mince words with you, no matter how lewd. You feel your pulse quicken and a throbbing deep within your core that spreads to your whole body. Levi’s always had a dirty mouth, but you haven’t heard it in so long. It excites you.

“I’m gonna need to get a bar of soap for that mouth,” you chide.

“I’ve got plenty.”

You smile and look at him with sultry eyes. Your lips parted, your tongue flicks along your lower lip.

You want it. He’s always been able to read you like a book.

“Ever the clean freak. Some things never change,” you say, laying a hand on his chest.

He grabs her wrist. “Y/n..”

You persist. “You know what’s funny? I asked if you ever thought about us and you mentioned - that,” you move closer. “So when you think about me, you’re..”

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually.”

“I won’t give you the satisfaction of answering.”

“Why not?” you ask, voice tense.

“So you can fuck yourself to the answer, without me?” He releases his grip on your wrist, running his fingers over yours, “with these?”

“It doesn’t have to be without you,” you taunt, “you could take me right now.”

“I’m sure I could.” He takes your hand and runs it along the waistband of your skirt. “How ruined are your panties already?”

You grab his hand instead and run it along the inside of your thigh. “Why don’t you find out.”

He lets you guide his hand higher and higher, then he stops and pulls away.

He can’t do this. He shouldn’t do this. But seeing you this way, your eyes full of longing, has lit a fire inside him. Why are you here in his room, your body ready and yearning? He wants to throw you out and at the same time throw you on the desk and ravage you. 

His heart battles between fidelity and yearning. “Stop, y/n. I can’t.”

“Levi…don’t tell me you don’t want this..after everything you just said.”

You see the conflict in his eyes. “I know you think about me. I think about you too.”

Suddenly, his eyes turn dark, and he gives in to his desires. “If you’re gonna think about me, then you can show me how much you miss it. Hands off.”

His other hand that was holding your waist moves away to stable himself against the desk. You try to touch his cheek and he jerks his head back. “I said hands off.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself.  You’re so touch-starved and drunk - from all the alcohol you consumed and from your lust for Levi - that you feel all inhibitions melt away as you move backwards and sit in the chair across from the desk. You pull your skirt up and your hand disappears under the fabric. You begin to touch yourself, your eyes defiantly looking into his.

“That’s it. Show me just how much…” 

He slides his hand down his own pants. Cocking his brow at you before his teeth sink into his plump lower lip. Inevitably so, he moans out your name and your hands move in tandem. 

He watches as you shift in the chair to get a different angle. “Your fingers never did reach as far as you’d like, did they?” he coos, meanly. “Mine did though.”

God, he’s right. You hate that he’s right. “Levi, I need more than this.”

“I know, you’re ruining the chair.”

You sigh, “Fuck you. So you wanna play that game?”

You lift up your skirt to reveal your ruined underwear, then you shimmy them down your hips as you take them off. You hike your leg onto the arm of the chair, your sex on full view for Levi.

He growls when he sees your fingers circle your clit, his own strokes getting faster and for a moment, he falters. “You’re cruel. Just what are you trying to do?”

You don’t answer him but you continue to touch yourself, sinking one finger and then two into your throbbing, wet sex. 

I won’t lose control, he thinks, but seeing you touch yourself so ardently has made him so hard, his need for you so strong. His strokes become faster and his breath becomes uneven.

“You’re close - already,” you tease, breathlessly.

He groans, “Don’t test me right now.”

“What are you thinking about?” you muster through moans.

“How much warmer my cock would be if you were taking it,” he hisses. “What else? What else - could I be thinking?”

He looks you in the eyes with a look you haven’t seen in so long. A mix of passion and possessiveness. “I’m always thinking about you.Then you show up like this - not even wearing a bra, huh? Do that on purpose?”

“Oh I’m sorry - does that bother you?” He watches as you fondle your breast over your blouse, while the fingers of your other hand continue to stroke your pussy. You start to move your hips and groan in pleasure.

“You always did like to watch,” you smirk when you see his feral eyes.

“You’re unbelievable, that’s why,” he hisses. But he can’t act like he doesn’t find every inch of you perfect - that’s the real reason why.

“Always looking too pretty when you shouldn’t be. Making a mess before I even started on you.”

Chest heaving, you smile. “I don’t recall ever hearing you complain.” You bite your bottom lip; you feel the sensation moving up your body from your toes. “Levi...”

Levi knows without you saying a word: you’re about to climax. Just the look in your eyes and the moans from your mouth are putting him close to finding his own end.

“Cum, y/n. Cum for me,” he commands, as he also meets his climax.

The tension in the room that was so palpable before is replaced with a stillness, as if a taut rope was suddenly cut. You both seem suspended in time for a moment, the juices of your pleasure running down both your hands. 

Levi takes some rags from his desk drawer and hands you one to clean up. Although he didn’t touch you the way he wanted to, he feels the sting of remorse; he shouldn’t have let his guard down. But like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t resist his desire for you - his yearning to say his thoughts about you out loud. Now he’s just made things more complicated and your life more difficult. 

“You got what you came for, right? I’m sure your husband can take care of the rest,” Levi says as he goes to stand near the fireplace, the light of the fire reflected in his stormy eyes.

“Levi...why would you say that? I just...wanted to see you." Your voice cracks. The mood in the room has turned dark and oppressive.

“Whatever the reason was, you’re married, and I’m not gonna fuck a married woman,” he answers coldly. “It was a mistake for you to come here.” 

His words sting like a slap to the face. You know that was his intention - to push you away, yet again. “You’re right,” you say as you walk toward the door. “In fact, I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to have ever fallen in love with you, Levi.”

Feeling humiliated, you get up to leave, then turn around to face your ex-lover one final time. 

“I’m so sorry to have bothered you with my problems tonight. You can be sure that I’ll never knock on your door again.”

Once you’re gone, Levi flops down on the sofa. 

“Shit.”

He hurt you. Why does he always end up hurting you, the person he loves?

You walk down the hall and up the stairs to your room. When you enter, you feel a presence.

“Where have you been? Who were you with?”

The voice is slurred from too much alcohol but tinged with anger. You light a candle to see Lars sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

“Hmmm? Where were you?”

You’re sick of these men, loving you one minute then rejecting you the next. You’ve had enough, and so you turn to face Lars.

“We need to talk.”

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[tomtenadia]

Station 5

Hello!

Here I am with another project... yes, another firefighters fic.... but this one is meant to be a little different. Rowan is kind of a disgraced firefighter back in Wendlyn so he moves to Orynth in the hope of a new life.  Aelin is the captain and a single mum... I only have 2 chapters down and it’s going very slowly. I will post the first one and we’ll see how it goes.

------

The silver-haired man walked through the heavy door of TFD HQ and reached the reception where he made the woman at desk aware that he was here for his appointment with Battalion Chief Gavriel Loewe. He strode with confidence down the hall once he was told the man was waiting for him. But that was a mask. A part of him was nervous but he saw that meeting as his opportunity as a clean slate to restart again after what happened in Wendlyn. This was his second chance and this time he was not going to mess up.

Once in front of the door he knocked and straightened his back and waited for his cue to enter. A deep male voice invited him in. He took a few steps in and stopped in perfect at ease position in front of the Chief’s desk “Officer Whitethorn, sir.”

The Chief rose his head from the report he was reading and tawny eyes met his. He sat back on his chair and invited Rowan to sit down “please.”

Rowan sat down and remained silent.

“So, Mr Whitethorn…” Gavriel stood and started pacing the space behind his desk “I was just reading your file. Served in the fire services in Wendlyn for ten years, made captain pretty quickly, labelled as a rising star…” he turned to Rowan and stared at him deeply “until your ego costed the lives of three of your men.”

Rowan closed his eyes for a second and the memories of that horrible night hit him hard. It had been one of the worst high rise fires they had seen in a while. It was pure inferno, the situation had deteriorated quickly. The Incident commander har ordered to evacuate the level, but Rowan thought he knew better and with his team went to finish the sweep. That’s when the flashover that he had missed hit them hard. Three of his men died on the spot, two suffered some injuries and he spent a month in the ICU and underwent multiple sessions of skin grafts to repair his burnt back. Scars and guilt was all was left of that night. He was suspended pending an enquiry on the incident and when his insubordination had been determined to be cause of the three men’s death, he was busted down to regular firefighter on half pay and put on a year probation, Rowan had decided that leaving was the best option. He had packed and moved to Orynth where some of his friends served in the TFD. 

“I have learned from my mistakes sir.”

“Whitethorn, your service record was impeccable until that night. You were a promising firefighter and threw everything away just to play hero?”

Rowan breathed in and pushed down in annoyance at the man’s tone. He had been the object of far worse comments.

“The incident commander was outside, sir. I reacted with the information I had around me.”

“Your Commander ordered to evacuate which means that from the outside he had a reading of the fire you could not have. The fire had jumped floors, something that you could have not seen from the inside.”

Rowan sighed and looked away.

The chief sat back on his chair “As I said, your record was impeccable which is why I want to give you a second chance. I am a great believer in second chances, don’t make me regret it.” He added and Rowan relaxed for a second “I have assigned you to Station 5 under captain Galathynius. They have been looking for a candidate for a while and the captain has been nagging me. Well, there’s your second chance. Take it or leave it Whitethorn.”

Rowan groaned internally. A probie again? He wanted to protest but he knew that all considered it was a miracle that the chief was allowing him to even work actively again.

“Thank you sir.”

“Be careful, boyo, I do not tolerate the hero complex in my firehouses. You go out there and do what your captain tells you. Am I clear on this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” The man passed him a few documents and Rowan was out of the door.

He released the breath he had been holding for a while and left the building feeling like his life was finally back of track after a year of pain, guilt and regrets.

*

The following morning he woke up well before his alarm, got off the bed and walked in the still dark living room and bashed his foot against something hard. A loud swear and then with his fingers he flicked the lights on. The place was still a sea of boxes. All of his belongings had only arrived three days before. His cousin Sellene had helped, offering him her flat in Orynth. It was very central and they had worked a nice rental deal. However he still hadn’t been bothered to unpack, save for some vital item like cooking supplies and clothes.

Slowly he went to the kitchen started making coffee and decided to treat himself with a nice stack of pancakes. It was usually a Sunday treat but he decided that on that day he could indulge. He was starting his new life as a firefighter and this time… this time he was not going to screw it up.

An hour later he reached the station and parked his car kerbside, grabbed his duffel bag and stepped out. It was a lovely spring day and the doors of the firehouse were open. Truck and engine parked on the apron and he could notice a swarm of people walking around. Was he late already?

He straightened and walked in when a tall dark haired figure who looked familiar welcomed him “Rowan?”

“Lorcan?”

“Damn, you really made it, man.” They exchanged manly pats on their back and caught up for a while until a blonde woman appeared on the apparatus floor “Whitethorn, my office,” she barked and stormed away.

“Go, don’t anger her.”

Rowan followed the woman while a lot of eyes followed him as he walked the halls of the very modern firehouse. She disappeared through a door and he found her again sitting at a desk with a sign reading Captain Aelin Galathynius. Shit, she was the captain? She was what? A teenager? Surely it was a prank.

“Close the door and sit down.”

Rowan obeyed and sat opposite from her. The woman in front of him had hair as golden as the sun combed in a tight braid and the bluest eyes he had ever seen with a circle of gold in them. The dark blue of her uniform accentuating her features.

She threw his file on the desk “Chief Loewe assigned you to me. I read your file and what happened in Wendlyn,” he blue eyes locked on him and it felt as if she was staring into his soul “He thinks that you deserve a second chance. I think that I need a new candidate.” She paused for a moment “I do not care if you were a captain before, when we are on calls you stick to me or Aedion, my second. You follow orders like a good candidate, do you read me on this officer Whitethorn?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered through gritted teeth.

“Good. Now follow me.”

The captain stood and he followed her in the big kitchen were a few firefighters were gathered having breakfast. On their way there the captain stopped talking for a moment to talk with a woman with hair as white as snow and then kept going.

“Morning minions,”

“Morning cap. Brullo brought in pastries and doughnuts.”

The woman waited for the room to be full and then took the stage “It looks like our lords and masters have finally answered our prayers and we finally have the probie we have been asking for.”

Aelin pointed at Rowan “This is firefighter Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin turned to Lorcan “Lieutenant Salvaterre “please give him the tour since you two seem buddies already.”

Aelin grabbed two pastries and walked away. She was walking along the corridor when a familiar voice greeted her “Mama.”

“Aisling, my love.” Aelin crouched and hugged her daughter and then smiled at her mother.

“Sorry, Aelin, she just wanted to say hi to you before going to the nursery. She was in a bit of a mood today.”

Aelin kissed her daughter again “that is fine, my love. Let’s go and say hi to everyone.”

She lifted her five year old daughter in her arms and walked back in the kitchen were a chorus of joyful screams met the little girl.

Aelin stared at her daughter being spoiled by her infinite collection of uncles and few aunties and smiled.

Aisling was what was left of her marriage with Chaol. They had been married three years. When she found out she was pregnant. Chaol had left her and served the divorce papers and washed his hands of his daughter releasing full custody to her. Luckily Aelin still had her parents and they had been delighted at playing grandparents and offered great support. The bastard had moved back to Adarlan and she hoped he would forever stay out her daughter’s life.

“Come on, menace, you have to go to school. Say hi to everyone.”

“Bye, bye.”

Aelin lifted her daughter again and went back to Evalin “I will come and get her tomorrow morning.” Aelin kissed her daughter’s cheek “I will take you to school tomorrow.”

The girl squealed happily and Aelin let her go.

On her way back to her office, two women stopped her “So,” said the tallest of the two “new hot sexy firefighter?”

Aelin turned to her two paramedics “Lys, you are dating Aedion. Elide you are married to Lorcan.”

“But the eyes love to wander…” added Elide with a mischievous smile.

Aelin sighed “More testosterone…”

The two women smiled and excused themselves saying that they had an ambulance to stock up.

Aelin finally made her way to her office and Aedion joined a few minutes later “So our new guy was a firefighter in Wendlyn.” He sat on the chair opposite her and ignore Aelin’s glare.

“He still remains a probie. That’s the deal I have with the chief.”

“Isn’t it a bit of a waste?”

Aelin’s glare intensified and Aedion knew he had to shut up.

“He will ride on truck and when is not my shadow, he will be yours.”

Aedion stared at his captain with a puzzled expression.

“Is that really necessary? He is not a newbie out of the academy.”

Aelin threw him a file “Only Chief and I know this.”

Aedion read the file and his brows furrowed deeper as he scrolled through the document “I got you, cap.” His voice low and dark “I will keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks Aed.”

She stared at her cousin leave the office and sighed deeply. Allowing Whitethorn to join her team was a gamble. Yes, she used to be a reckless firefighter too, but having Aisling had stopped everything. And usually none of her stunts involved her team mates. She had been reckless but never put any other life in danger.

Another deep sigh. She just hoped he would listen. Especially to a woman. Wendlyn was still behind with the times and they had very few female firefighters. Terrasen had been allowed women to serve a long time ago and Aelin had been in that first batch and still proudly had the record of first female captain. A few more followed but that first was still hers.

She just hoped Whitethorn was worth the risk she was taking.

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#rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowanwhitethorn #rowan x aelin

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

Threads, 4.2k Capvers

Can be read as stand-alone but it's a chapter from There's a War Going On, AO3. I type like I'm a Victorian writer being paid by the word (derogatory).

papvers?? capventing??... capvers parenting but they're looking after an injured girl from West Horsley who wandered onto the Button House grounds. it's cute af. capvers also have Issues(tm), an 'It's Complicated' relationship status on 2008 Facebook, work-related tension bc of said angsty Issues, and yet still have penchant for fluff because gay love pierces through the veil.

May, 1940

The cloud-blocked sun still cast long shadows across the Captain’s dim study, bringing to prominence the weariness etched into the lines of his face and the aged floorboards grains. As he occupied himself with his duties, he became wreathed in wisps of smoke spiralling from the end of his pipe. Dust still kicked up with the gusts of the summer-soon reaching through the open window, capturing the Captain’s attention in moments of contemplation; he enjoyed watching it dance in the air, swirling in the rays of light, while his mind buzzed.

His gaze had been fixed on a document casing spread out before him - everything Operation Solder - it mocked him with its official title. Weeks had slipped through his fingers since he last penned a meaningful entry into the file, a truth that caused a pang of embarrassment to twist within him. However, he was quick to point out, that the fault wasn't solely his own: blame could also be apportioned upon Havers' shoulders.

Beyond the confines of their shared operations, distractions seeped into his consciousness. New training regulations fluttered in, War strategies billowed through the House, and novel projects beckoned him. Research and travel conspired to steal his hours, leaving him feeling as if he were forever chasing the hands of the clock. 

The camaraderie that once bound his unit had frayed from the incessant work, its once vibrant tapestry unravelling into isolated threads. A mere quartet, the remnants of his unit, were left finding solace in the pub's shady embrace: MacKenny, Jones, Thomas, and Johnstone, naturally. Card games and convivial offers came his way, but he abandoned those evenings once filled with social escapism. It was all melting into a mere memory. His realm of productivity demanded a vast expanse of solitude, the sanctuary of his own space, while he smothered himself in his charge.

It was a delicate orchestration of self-discipline; he navigated its intricate bars with an external resolute grace, but in his mind, he couldn’t be screaming louder.

It felt like he always ended up back here.

The tip of his index finger traced the inked signatures of his and Havers’ names adorning the bottom of the Operation’s title page. He then leafed through its neglected pages, though the Captain barely registered the innumerable notes or sketches or references. Instead, his mind only provided flashes of Havers’ research into silencers, Havers’ letters, Havers’ persistent obscurity.

At times, the Captain watched over the Lieutenant in the drawing room, capturing fleeting glimpses of Havers tutoring Roberts or pondering the world's weight with the end of a pen clamped between his teeth, or engrossed in the tomes that lined their shelves. Of course, the Lieutenant kept close attention to all communication: he’d be the first to ask Jones for the morning briefings from HQ, the earliest when sorting through paper correspondence, and the last to check MacKenny for news at night. 

The Captain witnessed Havers' self-imposed isolation, his entire hurt marked by being tight-lipped. While the two of them still found themselves captured in a web of tension, the library had provided a fragile interlude before trust dissipated into an elusive spectre. And with each stolen glance, each hesitant touch, the Captain recognized the preciousness of time slipping away, the dwindling opportunities to bridge the divide that had entrenched itself between them. 

Beneath the layers of frustration and reticence lingered a deeper truth - the profound and complicated truth that bound him to Havers. There, tightening like a torturous device around his heart, defeating his commitment to finding a way back to what they had once been, was a conviction that overrode everything else. Toxic in its intensity, consuming all reason, and yet refusing to be extinguished…

He couldn’t let it be the undoing of him: love. Especially when it was built on one man's lies.

Mid-afternoon had indolently rolled around with high clouds that cloaked the countryside. When duty had momentarily relinquished its grip, the Captain had, for the first instance that day, ventured to the kitchen for fresh water. He had dodged his unit on the way down, nipping behind walls and doors as if traversing through enemy lines, but instead, he was desperately hoping to be left in solitude.

This morning’s reports had drained his well of cordiality. An assault on the Low Countries was not just a whisper or hypothesis anymore, but a reality that gripped the world. One by one the states of Western Europe fell into occupation and War. In the trenches of his soul, Clarke sifted through the debris of disheartening news and searched for remnants of British optimism, to keep his capacity to carry on, keep to his duties, keep everyone in line.

It was after he had descended onto the ground floor landing, where silence gripped the empty space, that he was confronted by the existence of other people in the downstairs of Button House. Only this instance was entirely extraordinary: tucked neatly against the skirting in the House’s entryway, he spotted a pair of tiny red shoes covered in dried mud and oak leaves. He squinted down at them, the muscles around his eyes reflexively scrunching with his brief inspection.

He drew his hands together, clasping them resolutely behind his back and assumed a rearing posture, preparing to raise his chin with insolence: he just didn’t have time for this. 

Entering into the kitchen, he let a wave of exasperation sweep over him - the state of the cooking area was the last thing he wanted to concern himself with today.

But there, before him, was his Lieutenant and a shoeless little girl murmuring softly, engaged in quiet banter. Havers was down on one knee, first aid kit within reach. With steady precision, he gently cleaned the girl’s split skin across her shin bone with one hand and let her squeeze his other.

The scene struck the Captain twice, for the questions it raised and its palpable tenderness. A fuzziness as wonderful as the softest breeze wrapped around his ribcage as he observed. Never could he anticipate, let alone imagine, have he could have been moved by his second-in-command - he felt the strain between them go slack.

The girl was perched on one of the unused kitchen chairs, watching the Lieutenant’s actions intently. She couldn’t have been older than eight if the Captain dared hazard a guess (not that he had any authority on the ages of youth… did they have all their teeth? Did they know how to talk?). She was gowned in a blue gingham dress that complimented her freckled skin and ginger-blonde hair, rebelliously having escaped its plaits. Her long, white socks were pulled down, revealing the extent of her gashes. At her hanging feet, Havers had discarded several pieces of bloodied cloth and wipes in his endeavour to begin her healing. It appeared to be anything but superficial, but the girl’s clenched fists betrayed her stoicism. Such a sight plucked at the strings of the Captain’s heart, reverberating with echoes of sentimentality. Oh, God.

Eventually, he relented to the fact that he hadn’t been noticed. “Havers?” he asked, his voice breaking the spell of their hushed discussion.

Startled, Havers turned his head, his visage a canvas painted with a mix of guilt and mellowness, as though he had been caught in the act of thievery - stealing time from the call of duty, giving it to the girl. “Oh, sir, sorry - I have a bit of a war-wound situation that needs attending to.”

“Ah, I see,” the Captain reassured.

Infrequent interactions with children had left him unsure of how to reach across the chasm of age with the proper course of conversation. Yet, the innocence in the girl's gaze impelled him to transcend his uncertainty, not to scuttle back to his dulling work. His lips curled into a smile, etching lines of fondness around his eyes, and he approached the pair.

“And what might be the name of this young lady?” he gently inquired.

“I should have introduced you: this is Mrs Bell’s daughter, Matilda-”

“Tilly!” she corrected, her interjection imbued with spirited determination. “And I’m six and a half and a bit more, sir.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” was all the Captain could muster, overtly formal in his reply. Any further response remained suspended, momentarily caught in the deep embarrassment of not conjuring anything else. She smiled back at him all the same.

“By Jove, you must have nearly finished primary school by now,” Havers quipped, his tone soft and dulcet, laced in charm, all the while skillfully tending to a profound wound.

“No, sir, I'm not that old.” Tilly’s melodious giggles filled the air. Her hands hurried to cover her mouth, finally letting Havers free to bandage her up with full dexterity and concentration. “I’ve only been at school for two years. But I am really good at reading and writing. My teacher, Miss Durrant, tells me I have the neatest handwriting in all the school.”

As an observer, the Captain wrestled with a sense of inadequacy, in his own territory, too. He yearned to contribute - to coax a laugh from Tilly's stomach, to ease Havers' task with a jest - but his mind remained a barren landscape, void of inspiration yet littered with mines and gunfire. So he busied himself with discarding the stained and spent medical supplies into the bin.

Only the gentleness of Havers’ eyes punctured through the noise. And his gaze wasn’t even directed at him.

Havers acknowledged Tilly's testament with an enthusiastic nod, before continuing in such a genuine and calming fashion that the Captain was stunned at his sensitivity. “Gosh, how remarkable - you should take great pride in your accomplishments. You know, I struggle at times to decipher certain Officers' handwriting. But perhaps that's more my fault than theirs.”

“I bet I could read it! I can read almost anything.”

“I’d let you, were they not classified documents… unless, of course, you’re secretly an Officer? And you’ve been undercover this whole time?” the Lieutenant playfully quizzed, tilting his head. She nodded ‘no’, cheeks rosy from blushing. “Now,” Havers continued, distracting her from his wipes of antiseptic, “for someone as eloquent and intelligent as yourself, I imagine the rest of your schooling will be a breeze. What do you want to do when you leave education?”

“Well, I wanted to be an actress but Mummy says I can’t so I’ll just work at the factory like her,” Tilly said. A hint of disappointment tinged her reply as innocence wrestled with the stark realities that framed her life. All the brazen honesty and innocence a child should possess was already being eroded.

“I think the girl who can read almost anything can do anything, Tilly,” the Captain found himself saying, a surge of warmth emanating from his heart to his words. “Your life should not be bound by anyone else's expectations. With your killer smile and delight, the world is your stage. That, I promise you.” 

As he spoke, the Captain noticed a subtle shift in Havers’ demeanour, a flicker of intrigue followed by a raised eyebrow. Yet, Havers continued his ministrations, his focus unwavering. 

The Captain and the girl exchanged a smile, content to let the moment linger, to weave his rhetoric into the fabric of Tilly's memory and impressionable heart.

“Oh, I- Thank you, sir.”

As he reached to put the first aid box away, his knuckles brushed Havers, who was reaching down to store away a pair of scissors. He quickly stood up and put distance between them, terrified that such contact would be reported to her family, even if Tilly was oblivious. “My, uh, my mother was an actress,” he added to fill the ensuing lull, an equal distraction for Tilly and himself.

“Oh, woah, what was she in?! Was she in the opera? Or-Or did she act in the pictures?” the young girl exclaimed, her green eyes - fixed on him - were wide with contagious enthusiasm, her candour a mirror of her age.

Havers also asked that question, only his was unspoken and shrouded in a veil of something indecipherable to the Captain.

It didn’t occur to him that he’d have further inquiries, nor the flood of pain and images it would unleash. Memories, long dormant, surfaced in a haze. His mother was long fated to be contained to tattered photographs and stories told by strangers. Caught in this inner reverie, the Captain bit his cheek, the taste of nostalgia mingling with his thoughts. His hands, now free of tasks, found solace at his side as he stood to attention; he looked at Tilly, though his thoughts were darting elsewhere. It was only after Havers shot him another glance of concern that he realised he should respond. “Oh, uh, well… she was on the West End in several productions; she worked under Ibsen for Hedda Gabler and Ghosts ; I was told she socialised with Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw; she-she even performed in New York for a short period. If she could forge such a path half a century ago, one can only imagine what you can achieve.”

“Can she make me famous?”

He hesitated, a moment of introspection that hung heavy in the air. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that his mother had long since passed, but he also hadn’t the aforethought to lie. “Come now, you can do that all by yourself, Miss Tilly.”

At that point, the final bandage had been securely set in place, and Havers rose, his gaze hovering on his handiwork. “There you go,” he proclaimed, a note of quiet satisfaction permeating his words. 

Having inspected the Lieutenant’s meticulous efforts, the Captain made a commendatory sound and bounced on the balls of his feet approvingly. “And how’s our bravest Officer feeling?” he said to Tilly, infused with newfound confidence. Conversing with her felt more natural than anticipated, less daunting than he’d initially assumed. His heart no longer felt like it was going to explode for the wrong reasons. He’d just had to - uncomfortably at first - relinquish the mantle of ‘the Captain’.

She pulled her socks over her wound dressings. “I’m ready to get back to the frontlines, sir!”

“Jolly good. Hasn’t our Lieutenant Havers done an outstanding job?”

“He has indeed, sir… Captain, sir.” Tilly responded with a touch of formality, her voice a blend of admiration and respect. She looked up at Havers, beaming at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. You displayed incredible courage, Tilly,” Havers accredited, unrolling the cuffs of his sleeves. “I commend your bravery.”

“You’re braver.”

“Uh,” he breathed, “well, I wouldn't-“

Her reply, brimming with childlike virtue, cut through the air. “And the loveliest man in the whole wide world.”

A flush of humility tinted Havers' cheeks, his attempt at modesty stumbling in the face of her unguarded sincerity. His gaze averted as if unable to bear the weight of her praise. He stumbled to find his footing. “I-I’m not sure-”

The Captain's intervention was swift, his own brand of reassurance layered with a dash of jest. “I should fancy you are spot on with that assessment, soldier. I quite agree.” 

He then found himself peering at his second-in-command, filled with pride himself; his heart was messily aflutter, stuck in conflict, as he reigned in his fleeting moments of turbulent infatuation. Havers’ reticent smile and compassion with the young girl, his intellect and service, how had he the heart to deceive him? The Captain's face fell, realising he once looked at Havers with much the same innocence as Tilly.

“He is! I got lost and he saved me from the dirt and sharp stones and stinging nettles like I was one of your soldiers. And he made my leg feel better.” Tilly's enthusiasm bubbled forth, her recounting of the events a vivid testament to Havers' gallantry.

“Oh, but you are one of our soldiers,” Havers countered, deflecting from the compliment. “You so fiercely traversed the wilderness and sought refuge with your allies when you needed help. And now - although I’m not exactly qualified - you have just been nursed back to health in this battlefield triage. That certainly makes you a real soldier.”

“I am?!” Her small hands tucked her hair behind her ears and she swung her feet. Her leg, still tender, responded to her exuberance with a cautionary protest - she winced at the sudden movement and settled for kicking the uninjured one in her excitement.

A spark of inspiration suddenly crossed the Captain’s mind, illuminating his eyes. He turned around to confirm it. In the corner of the kitchen, a coat stand stood adorned with the winter apparel of others - Last's coat, Miller’s scarf, and an old standard-issue cap that had remained untouched for months. The Captain deduced it was likely Bosanko's, left abandoned in his snappy departure. “Here, Matil- Tilly, try this on,” the Captain suggested, his voice infused with childlike anticipation as he retrieved the cap from its resting place. He swiped it and handed it over to her.

Tilly stood up, unintentionally scraping the chair back with a brief screech. As the hat was extended out to her, she glanced between the two men; though her eyes twinkled with eagerness, her eyebrows folded together. It was as if she was preparing to accept the weight of the responsibility that came with the uniform. Resolutely, determinedly, she took it and placed it like a crown. The cap, much too large for her head, remained perched with a playful tilt.

“There,” Clarke’s simper was barely masked beneath his moustache as he reflected her infectious joy. “Suits you splendidly; now you’re fully qualified and ready for whatever comes your way.”

“At your service!” A salute, both a gesture of gratitude and a pledge of allegiance, punctuated their interaction.

The Captain returned Tilly’s salute, a buoyant sensation coursing through him. He was sure he hadn’t felt this light in months, the moment lifting a weight he hadn't fully acknowledged existed. The world around them seemed to blur, fading to insignificance as he basked in the fulfilling simplicity of brightening a child’s day during a War.

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the subtle signs that aired Havers' unease. Ever the composed and capable man, he bore an unfamiliar veneer of trepidation. A deep inhale, tense shoulders - the Captain supposed Havers was enduring his own hurricane of emotions.

“We should be taking our leave,” the Lieutenant promptly suggested, directing his passive instruction towards the young girl.

However, the Captain chimed in, carrying a sense of authority again. “No need; I’ll call her mother to pick her up.”

“That will take too long, sir. I’ll walk her back. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“R-Right, very well; as you were, Lieutenant.”

Havers' gaze shifted to Tilly, his eyes meeting hers with gentle instruction. “Why don’t you put your shoes on?”

“Yes, sir!” she replied. She grabbed the cap’s visor and gathered the fabric of her dress, then scurried to the entryway where her shoes awaited.

As Tilly, absorbed in her task, prepared herself for the walk home, the Captain and Havers moved further into the kitchen, their actions a conscious retreat from the young girl's view. The Captain wasn’t sure why they were gravitating back there, moving in unspoken accord, but he let it happen.

In this sanctuary of muted privacy, their proximity stirred images of a time when the distance between them was calculated and terrifying. The Captain's heartbeat quickened, and for a fleeting moment, he was transported back to those clandestine days where their glances held a world of longing, where they couldn’t even meet each other’s eye without blushing, when he could only dream of what it would be like to kiss Havers. 

His chest leapt and suddenly it was like nothing was ever wrong. It was just him and Havers against the world once more.

If there were another force of nature left undiscovered, the Captain could feel it in his heart as it pulled him closer to the Lieutenant. The frustration he had harboured for so long washed off his soul as their knuckles brushed once more, igniting a connection that transcended speech, though not quite replacing it.

“You’re having quite the adventure today, Lieutenant. Although dealing with lost and injured children isn’t typically within the scope of our duties, I’m hesitant to pull you up for it,” the Captain spoke softly, offering warmth under his subtle teasing.

“Sir,” Havers warned in a whisper, doing nothing to pull away. A further response seemed poised on his lips, but the words never came, leaving them suspended in a painfully awkward moment.

“I had no idea you were so good with children. You treated her as if she was your own.” The Captain shifted their discourse to a more palatable subject than War or the threads between them, steering a diverting course around difficult conversation for as long as he could.

Alone and emboldened, he reached out, and held Havers’ hand by their sides: a touch, gentle yet laden with significance, meant to bridge every distance between them. Havers briefly met their intertwined hands like it was burning him, then squeezed the Captain's hand as though it was a soothing remedy.

“She will surely remember your kindness for the rest of her life. You’re exceptional with her,” the Captain continued, his words infused with affection, his grasp on Havers' hand tightening slightly.

“It’s my duty to be so. She is everything we are fighting for, everything we need to protect, everything I should be-” Havers stopped himself. His breath hitched which he bit down with a solemn smile. “I am only doing what is right.”

“Yet I do not hear of Lieutenant’s walking injured little girls home to make sure they are safe and do not get into any trouble with their mothers.”

“Well, I couldn't send her off into the village by herself. Look where she ended up last time. ”

“There are worse fates than ending up being cared for by you.”

The atmosphere between them grew warmer, filled with coy smiles and bashful glances, a glimpse of the raw infatuation they once wholly felt. An incandescent hope jumped inside the Captain, a possibility that perhaps they weren't as strained as he had feared, they weren’t as doomed as he’d embraced.

Their eyes locked, two souls laid bare, until the Captain felt compelled to break the loaded silence. “You haven't quite been yourself as of late.”

Havers huffed an aggrieved laugh through his nose. “I could say the same for you. It’s been rather a dreadful few weeks for us, though, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so. But it wouldn’t be so terrible if we talked.”

“We tried,” Havers said, appearing a fusion of heartache and longing only documented by romantics.

Not hard enough, the Captain bitterly thought. He held this truth close, unwilling to risk regression in the delicate balance he had struggled to achieve. He still sought a way to reconcile Havers’ life with his own, with the War, with them. But Havers had made it his mission to not talk any further about himself - when everything was so intertwined, the Captain wondered if Havers ever intended on fixing the tension between them. No, he’d sooner run away, like he is now.

The goodwill that had once filled him now receded, replaced by the familiar undercurrent of paranoia. “I'm ready for you to try again.” His comment tumbled out with an unintended edge of anger. 

Then he saw a glint of tears forming in the wells of Havers’ brown eyes, and the thread of trust frayed to its thinnest strand.

“Good God. You’re impossible,” Havers breathed, almost pleading.

“What?”

“You know- Why are you-?”

“I’m ready!” Tilly called from the other side of the wall.

Tilly's shout shattered the moment, her voice a reminder of their reality beyond this brief interlude. Havers moved away with a hurried pace without another glance, his attention purposefully drawn to the young girl. 

Empty-handed, the Captain trailed behind, his own sense of yearning now mingling with the cold air that now seemed to envelop the ground floor. The space between them exploded with its expansion, threatening to swallow what was left of their fragile entanglement.

“We’ll get you home and clean those fantastic shoes up. They’ll be back to a bright red in no time,” Havers declared to Tilly with a gentle celebration. He offered his hand and she reached up, locking their palms together. Havers held all the weight of her arm with one hand and opened Button Houses’ front door with the other. “Onwards, soldier. I don’t suppose you know any marches or songs?”

As the Lieutenant guided Tilly outside, the Captain remained, watching from the window, an observer of this scene that both resonated with familiarity and echoed with the chilling void.

The Captain knew things had turned sour. Play fighting was merely fighting. From the fringes of War, they absorbed every harrowing development while they were working themselves sick. And amidst it all, a sinking feeling, a premonition, gnawed at the Captain's gut: an intuition that the worst news was yet to come.

When it did come, it would devastate him. And it will be Havers’ fault, he vehemently tried to convince himself once again.

#tawgo #apologies #and cap is a feminist fr #talk valentina!!! ally!! #havers has an insane backstory but thats not important rn #tilly is dorothy-coded #history #bbc ghosts #capvers #ao3 #writing #caphavers #fluff #angst #papventing?? #parenting #they were william and theodore but i changed it bc its not canon but it is in tawgo #im doing this instead of essay writing ffs #ocs #ill repost tonight too #fanfic #ficlet

[cursedvibes]

I’m glad that leak culture will hopefully die down but I hope that fan translator groups will pull through! They should just go back to posting a day after the official releases, and people really need to learn to be quiet about fan translator groups because the whole reason this situation got so big is because people literally treated leaks as if they were the Super Bowl.

Unfortunately, I don't think much will change about leak culture, since Mya is still intend on posting leaks, just a day later than usual. There is a new wave of criticism for leaks going around, but once the leaks are out, I doubt it will have much of an impact.

Thankfully, TCB have also said that they will continue to translate chapters, but they will come out later than usual or on Friday again. As long as they stay around, I honestly don't care when they post. Can't leave the jjk fandom alone with John Werry. I'm honestly surprised that opscans was the in focus of the Japanese police and not TCB because TCB seem far more popular from my impression, but it might be different from the perspective of the One Piece fandom and ops have posted earlier as well.

The fantranslations always were a lot more lowkey too, unlike the leaks. They'd come out, people would read them, talk about them, maybe post some images, but none of the translators have a cult following like the leakers do. Which is funny because they are doing the actual work of putting out HQ raws and translating the chapter, not just post them on twitter.

Mya and the guy with the rooster head were the first to really drum up the hype to get followers and it all kinda developed from there. From what I know, other fandoms like mha have their colourful personalities too. And that is all very purposeful, since I very often hear that people read the leaks exactly because they see it as this community event like watching a football game. That anticipation, the short translations, pages being posted one after the other (or out of order when the rooster guy was still around) made it into this bombastic event. That is very hard to miss if you are somehow in the fandom and especially on twt. Leaks have been around for a while, but used to be more quiet because they were harder to access and nobody made an effort to build a community around that. They used to be not very different from fantranslations, only less accessible. And I doubt it will quiet down again unless Mya quits or changes the way he posts leaks (like only quietly posting the full leaks with the quick translations e.g.).

#asks

[brainrotdotorg]

Hey I'm new to ur blog and I was wondering if you have any favorite Kim/harry fics? Thanks grins :)

ohhh baby ive got a few lmao

Elysium Records is a very cute fic where Harry works at a record store instead of as a cop, but still ends up meeting Kim and losing his memory. The characterization here is delightful and is just overall very sweet!! If you want to read about Harry being a clueless idiot and, to a certain degree, Kim being just as clueless, I absolutely can't recommend this one enough.

tartare tatin is. BEAUTIFUL. IT'S SO LOVELY. I've never read something that felt so closely intimate and true-to-life with these two, in their most human element- in the kitchen, making dinner, talking about getting married. God. GOD it is so fucking precious!! Absolutely read this one if you're into very real tenderness.

Folie a Deux is an absolutely lovely fic- more of a character study with Kimharry themes. It's about Harry introducing all the skills to Kim, learning about where they came from, getting some insight into both of them as people. (it's also a favorite of mine because damn it, I love when the skills have a lot of personality.)

legally obligated to plug 1886: Martinez, Nevada because holy fuck it's one of the greatest western AU's i've ever read. If you're looking for some of THEE most compelling retellings of the in-game case in a different era, with period-accurate language and also bullseye humor, stop looking. This is it. It's 17 chapters and somehow I wish there was more. I want to learn how to bookbind just so i can have a physical copy of it on my shelf. (also. REALLY GOOD NSFW SCENES)

I'm sure you've read it because it feels like everybody's read it. But I still have to say it. The one. The Only. Cardiozone HQ. Get ready for your life to change after reading this one, buddy- Kim and Harry meet while Harry is still a teacher, and Kim is a juvie officer. Some of the most hilarious dialogue juxtaposed by the slowest of slow burns. (and also. the most vindicating sex scenes I've ever read)

all the other ones i could recommend are. much more explicit lmfao

#disco elysium #god looking thru my bookmarks and seeing just how few sfw i have. marked #asdfkjhgashdf help.

[ackergarden]

Chloe if she were a WISE mole in the State Police (slight Yuri x Chloe because why not!)

a list of ongoing headcanons which are purely mine. don’t take this to heart, it’s all for fun!

special shout-out to @streetcheetah and the soy server for hearing me ramble it out first 😭🫶🏽

more beneath the cut

anyways… on with the headcanons we go! i have came here to bother everyone with my chloe x yuri hcs because that will be the thing i talk about for the next two weeks—

1. headcanon that yuri probably trained chloe with the first lieutenant since she’s one of the new recruits in the state police

2. chloe started crushing on him the moment she finished officer training

3. i remember reading that it was canon that the girls that liked yuri turned away from him because of his personality of protecting yor, but chloe found it cute (despite being annoyed) which draws her to him even more

4. this mission to retrieve wheeler with the other agents is her first ever mission after trainee completion

and another headcanon that’s totally unrelated (just because i overanalyzed that one panel of chloe helping yuri get out of the sewers):

in winston’s dialogue, he mentions about “you’ll never know when it’s going to be your last mission. or when you’ll get betrayed by someone” because i was literally reading the betrayed part right when i got to the chlori panel and i’m just like wait.

there was this headcanon (i think it was moot's but i’m not sure) on chloe when she was first introduced without a name in chapter 80 — it was just for funsies, though i think lol — that what if she’s actually one of wise's moles in the state police that haven't gotten caught?

we know jeffery already got caught since he was in the communications branch of the service. so chloe could possibly be another wise agent that had been dispatched to infiltrate the sss (possibly being in another branch) in case one of their agents get caught.

(you know, maybe the branch yuri is in because of operation strix...?)

@streetcheetah and i were rambling about how after wise finds out that mrs. forger's brother is part of the state service, that's when upper management in hq decided to send in another agent to ambush the sss.

they send chloe.

they send her to get close to yuri since he is yor's brother after all, so all eyes would be on him in case he poses as a danger to operation strix (in courtesy of @streetcheetah's comment). strix had been the foundation of peace, another reason why she's been placed in the sss to keep watch on yuri briar.

it would end up getting to the point where she'll have to take yuri out since he's close to discovering loid forger's true identity. but the thought of her having to finish him, why was it easier said than done?

#spy x family #chloe (spy x family) #spy x family chapter 80 #will i add more in the future? #absolutely (for funsies) #i have headcanons and headcanons and headcanons and headcanons and headcano- #mole hunt arc spoilers (spy x family) #yuri briar #elliane’s shitposting #chloe if she were a wise mole tumblr fic au

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 340: Now Where Were We

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Iida were all “hey Mei, I know you don’t have a lot of spare time in between constantly launching yourself at people boob-first, and singlehandedly MacGuyvering U.A. into the fucking Death Star, but we were wondering if you could lend us a hand in fixing our costumes.” Mei was all, “sure thing, here’s an upgraded pair of Movie 1 Gloves for you, anyways off you go and have fun saving the world!” Mt. Lady was all, “can you kids keep a secret?? so uh, just between you and me, I’m not a real teacher, and I’m not actually sure what I’m doing here hanging out with you guys right now.” Class 1-A was all, “don’t worry, your secret is safe with us Mt. Lady, well anyways time to assemble our CLASS 1-A SEARCH SQUAD!” The chapter ended with A BUNCH OF DIFFERENT PEOPLE getting ready to DO and/or TALK about A BUNCH OF DIFFERENT THINGS. Classic cliffhanger ending. lol this chapter really did not hold up on a re-read. I’m so sorry BnHA 339. You meandered so that future chapters could hopefully get to the damn point already.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “time to reveal our shocking and completely unpredictable battle plan of splitting up all the villains for more easily digestible mini-boss battles, using our newly acquired trump card, the handy dandy U.A. traitor!” Aizawa is all, “[cracks knuckles] time to drop some motherfucking love and compassion onto my traumatized student in order to talk him into doing this INSANELY DANGEROUS TASK for us, except that somehow I manage to do it in a way that’s genuinely moving and heartfelt and somehow not manipulative at all lol.” Shinsou is all, “hello, it’s me, making my miraculous return after three whole years of plot inactivity, so anyway what have I missed.” Well shit. Glad I’m not the only one, Shinsou.

---

(just a handful of quick notes here since it’s been a while! (1) as always, these are my completely blind first-time-reading reactions to the chapter. (2) as of today, I am very much NOT caught up with the manga, but will keep you posted on my progress. currently I have read up to chapter 340, a.k.a. this chapter right here lol. and (3), I have been spoiled about one major thing (explained more in depth here) which will happen later in the series, and while there are no detailed references to said spoiler in this post, there ARE a couple of vague throwaway lines because I have absolutely no self-control. so just giving you guys a heads up for that! if you absolutely don’t want to risk getting spoiled, I would highly recommend catching up with the manga first before reading any further.

anyways, onward!)

OH MY GOSH IT’S SOME BUILDINGS!!!

WHAT A THRILLING WAY TO KICK OFF MY FIRST NEW CHAPTER OF BNHA IN ELEVEN MONTHS. TRULY HIT THE GROUND RUNNING

lol they literally just thumbtacked a handwritten “LOV/PLF COUNTER-FORCE HQ” sign on a wrinkled piece of paper next to the door. how far we have fallen from the days where the heroes were holding their war councils in huge NASA ground control rooms filled with hundreds of TV screens

okay good, at least they went out and recruited Hawks to be one of the people presumably planning this whole thing

one of only two people (the other being Momo) whom I actually trust to be able to come up with a reliably smart plan. fingers crossed this turns out better than his last big Ultimate Hero Final Battle Plan, though!

interesting! I assume they do still know about the whole Aoyama situation though, seeing as they even told Mt. flippin’ Lady lol

OH MY GOSH, RAGDOLL? heck yeah. great to see her finally back in the thick of things again. even if she can’t participate in the actual battle, she’s still a fucking hero goddammit

wow this entire next page sure is something

“every pre-cat-ion” breaking news, we’ve just been informed that there is a warrant out for Caleb Cook’s arrest

MEOW

MYEAH?

NOT YOU TOO, HAWKS

EVIL MEOW

I know that last part is just her randomly tacking her cute dattebayoisms onto the end of this entirely unrelated sentence, but unfortunately the damage has already been done. now all I can think about is the League of Villains out there rampaging in the streets and meowing menacingly at people

anyway, so on to the planning and stuff

lmao wait, what

DID YOU PAINT THESE BY HAND, ALL MIGHT?? DID YOU BUY THEM LAST MINUTE ON ETSY AND PAY A FORTUNE IN EXPEDITED SHIPPING. surely it must be the latter. but can you just imagine All Might sitting at his kitchen table at 3am, hand-painting a refrigerator magnet to look like an adorable chibified version of HIS MOST HATED ENEMY

hmmmmmmmmmmmm

I’m actually on the fence about this lol. I mean, it makes sense on paper. lord knows they had enough trouble taking on just one massively overpowered final villain, so who even knows what would happen if they added a second one to the mix

but the problem with the “just take them down separately” plan is that it means they’ll also have to split up their OWN forces, which are already heavily depleted. not to mention that the BnHA heroes are always at their best when they’re all fighting together. so anyways, yeah, I’m not too sure about this

so blah blah blah, Tomura is now stronger than crusty!potato!AFO, big surprise. and they’ve also figured out that the two AFOs can communicate with each other via radio waves or whatever. okay yeah, but doesn’t that mean that even if you do split them up, they’ll still have a big advantage? unless you figured out some way of jamming their telepathy somehow

“should they attack together, we have no hope of victory” lol if you say so. I’m pretty sure all of the U.A. kids combined with all of the remaining A-list heroes could hold their ground fairly well, but clearly I’m not supposed to be questioning the authority of this statement so ALL RIGHT THEN

OKAY BUT DOESN’T THIS JUST PROVE MY POINT THOUGH

“if they’re so powerful together then why didn’t they team up against S&S?” “because they definitely would have definitely lost.” ????????

anyway so now All Might is saying that they need to separate TomurAFO and Potato AFO (PotAFO, if you will) by at least 10km. so is that the max range of their telepathy or something then? that’s so oddly specific though

“oh and we also need to split up Dabi from them as well” ah okay lol, I see where this is going. it’s finally time for the final battle, meaning we need to assign each of the main characters to their personal final villain, yeah? great. awesome. except that they only JUST got reunited all together as a class again sob. you’re really going to do this to me again now?? just like that?? goddammit

LMAO I completely forgot that Nao’s right hand man is an actual literal fucking cat

oh my god. what I wouldn’t give to have seen his reaction to all of those puns and MEOW shenanigans from a few minutes earlier. just standing there in the corner with a disapproving frown. “I’ll have you know I find this all very demeaning and culturally insensitive” sorry about that Sansa

anyway so now All Might is all “YEAH EXACTLY, WE HAVE TO DIVIDE AND CONQUER ALL OF THE VILLAINS ONE ON ONE! WHAT DO YOU THINK WE SPENT ALL THAT TIME PAINSTAKINGLY BUILDING THEM UP FOR?? IT’S THE FINAL BATTLE FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU HAVE US DO, MAKESTE” okay okay fine I’ll shut up now, geez

oh shit lol

somehow I momentarily forgot all about Aoyama. possibly because I haven’t seen him in eleven months!! so this is where we’re finally going to get into the nitty gritty of that “let’s use Aoyama to set a trap” plan that Aizawa shamelessly stole from Kaminari all those moons ago

All Might is all “it’s actually pretty messed up of us to be using this poor boy when he’s already basically spent his entire life being exploited and manipulated by people” and he’s not wrong though, damn

but Nao is all “very true, but to be fair this is the literal apocalypse, and he did technically make his own bed, and also our backs are REALLY against the goddamn wall here,” which is also true. still leaning more toward All Might’s side in spite of that, though. poor Yuuga

OH SHIT, SPEAKING OF???

OH DANG

do they really have to keep him tied up like that?? he’s just a kid for fuck’s sake. and it’s not like they aren’t capable of handling things if he does try to escape, I mean this is Aoyama we’re talking about here, he’s not exactly an all-powerful criminal mastermind

man they both look so fucking sad. Yuuga looks so ashamed. this is every 1-A child’s worst fear. they can go toe to toe with the scariest villains out there and not be fazed. but a disappointed dad??? have mercy, sweet jesus

“so after going back and forth on it a bunch, we finally decided that he’s probably not going to blow up.” thanks for the update, doc. meanwhile I just had a completely unrelated thought about certain spoiler related things, oh fuck. but now is not the time to start speculating about that! not when we have the world’s saddest detention session unfolding right before our eyes

Aizawa Shouta is sitting here wearing an eyepatch and a hospital gown and probably hasn’t showered in like three days, and despite all this he is STILL somehow the hottest character in BnHA and it’s not even close

okay but there are like a thousand reasons why the threat of imminent murder would be infinitely more useful than an actual murder, though. like this doesn’t really make any sense. “why would AFO bother to threaten Aoyama if he could simply blow him up if and when he betrayed him?” uh, gee, maybe because he would much prefer if Aoyama didn’t actually betray him in the first place?? what, do you think U.A. traitors are so fucking easy to come by? in this economy??

awwww

I mean, of course he is? :( man, and now I’m wondering if there’s been a single day since his enrollment at U.A. that Aoyama has not spent being constantly terrified about a whole damn slew of things. this poor fucking kid. Horikoshi please be kind to him oh my god

oh my god, yes, exactly

he’s afraid that deep down he’s a bad person. he’s afraid that AFO will kill him. but interestingly, what he’s most afraid of, is BEING afraid. he’s afraid that if the others put their trust in him again, that when push comes to shove he’ll still be too cowardly to do what’s right

talk about ironic though. because to me, that’s a sentiment that basically confirms that he does have the heart of a hero deep down. I’m telling you guys, every single time you show me a character who is flawed and afraid, but is trying so hard to overcome their fears, and trying with all their might to become better, you will reel me in hook, line, and sinker every. single. time. seriously, how could you possibly not root for this kid now

OH MY GOD YUUGA NO

holy shit. hey Horikoshi, this is me, a certified angst-lover, asking you to tone it down just a little here, goddamn. yes we get it, he is tormented by years’ worth of accumulated fears and regrets and feelings of worthlessness and he doesn’t see any way that things can possibly get better, holy shit, we get it okay??? THIS IS MY FIRST CHAPTER IN ELEVEN MONTHS! THIS SHOULD BE AN OCCASION OF TRIUMPH, SO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU OUT HERE MAKING ME CRY

HOLY SHIT

somehow I forgot just how utterly ruthless this man is capable of being for the sake of his students. this is a dude who literally expels kids on a regular basis just to put the fear of god into them. also he is seriously so goddamn hot. it’s straight up ridiculous

oh wow this whole page just came straight for my heart

Yuuga’s fear as he tries to talk himself into what he fully believes is a suicide mission. Aizawa’s blunt assessment of the heroes being no less ruthless than the villains when their backs are to the wall. but then the way he just HITS him with that “you’re still my student and I’m still your teacher” line, and how he says it with such finality. and then the face Aoyama makes in response!!

OKAY, WOW

ABSOLUTELY NONE OF THIS IS FAIR YOU KNOW!! YOU CAN’T JUST HIT ME WITH THIS BRUTALLY SIMPLE PANEL OF THE TWO OF THEM JUST SITTING THERE WITH ALL OF THE OTHER VISUALS STRIPPED AWAY SO THE FOCUS IS ENTIRELY JUST ON THEM, AND WITH THE WALL BETWEEN THEM ALSO SYMBOLICALLY REMOVED JUST LIKE THAT

AND YUUGA BEING SO SMALL. AND AIZAWA BEING SO STRONG AND SAFE AND STABLE AND FIRM, AND HIM HAVING SUCH UNCONDITIONAL LOVE AND COMPASSION FOR HIS STUDENT DESPITE EVERYTHING. “FUCK THAT, YOU’RE GONNA HAVE A HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE I FUCKING SAID SO AND I’M YOUR SENSEI AND THAT’S FINAL.” okay yep. tears coming now. thanks a lot, Horikoshi. wow. just wow

lol I truly believe that if Horikoshi ever did truly try to kill off one of the 1-A kids, Aizawa would literally come to life and emerge from the pages and straight up murder him

welp. there you have it. absolutely no room for argument there. SENSEI SAID YOU’RE GONNA LIVE, YUUGA, SO I GUESS YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT!

fsdljkf

yep. that’s right. deal with it. dlfkj don’t mind me I’m just gonna sit here dissolving into sobs again

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS WARM FOND EXPRESSION GODDAMMIT

I AM ALREADY A PILE OF MUSH, HOLY HECK!! CAN I LIVE. CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME BE HERE ALREADY HOLY SHIT

wait what

uh. the path of “none of you problem children are allowed to die on my watch, are we fucking clear on that”? that path?? or the path of marching headfirst into very real danger because they have no other choice, because they’re one of the lynchpins in the heroes’ desperate plan? because that latter path is one that I’d prefer to have as few children walk as possible, ngl

-- OH MY GOD

“HELLO, SHINSOU HERE” UH, EXCUSE ME, MISTER, DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY TO ME? AFTER BEING MIA FOR LIKE A HUNDRED AND TWENTY CHAPTERS AND FOUR AND A HALF ARCS?? YOU’RE JUST GONNA HANG HERE FROM THIS FUCKING TREE ALL NONCHALANT, WITH YOUR FANCY NEW HERO COSTUME AND YOUR SPIDER-MAN POSE THAT YOU STRAIGHT UP RIPPED OFF FROM YOUR DAD?? WHILE SAID DAD SITS THERE CHUCKLING OVER HIS “NEVER FEAR, WE’RE TOTALLY PUTTING SHINSOU IN AMPLE DANGER AS WELL” REVEAL? “DON’T WORRY AOYAMA, WE’RE NOT JUST RISKING YOUR LIFE, WE’RE RISKING MULTIPLE CHILDREN’S LIVES, BUT WE’RE DOING IT ALL TOGETHER AS A FAMILY” truly the most heartwarming of sentiments lmao

well damn. that hype and anticipation is definitely starting to build now. I am so damn fearful for all of these fictional kids’ safety, especially now that I’m watching the War arc play out again in the anime and remembering just how brutal it was. but at the same time I can’t deny that I’m super excited to see the culmination of everything. like, this is IT, though. this is THE moment, THE battle. no more safety arcs. no more training. we are done holding back, and that is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. I am so not ready for any of this, but IT IS HAPPENING WHETHER I LIKE IT OR NOT, so I guess I’ll just do my best to enjoy the ride

-- oh and lastly, I almost forgot. before we wrap up, there’s just one last thing I wanted to add here...

so it begins.

#bnha 340 #aoyama yuuga #aizawa shouta #shinsou hitoshi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #pleasantly surprised to see that tumblr's image limit is still generous enough to allow me to do my thing here #'preciate it tumblr

[mortumslab]

Remembering to be Human - Chapter 5

A longer chapter this time. But more action-packed.

(tw: blood, depictions of violence, alcohol use.)

Link to Chapter 4!

Two figures. Two beings you recognize. You’ve fought them. You’ve lost to them. You’ve beaten them.

Stairs. Falling. Up stairs. Down stairs. The eye follows you. The eye watches you.

Julia is there. She’s here. She’s protecting you. She wasn’t here at the Farm. You know she wasn’t, but she’s here anyway. Maybe your subconscious is finally fighting back. Against the figures. Against the enemies. 

Green.

But they’re overwhelming. Suddenly alone. Alone. Green. Terrifying.

Alone. Die. Alone.

“NO!” Your scream wakes you. You’re sobbing. The dreams weren’t worse, not compared to some during your early villain career. The dreams, instead, were malicious. Something in your head is fighting you.

Tears streak your face as you cradle your pillow - attempting to block the chorus of voices from your mind. Spasming, you can feel pain wrack your body. Between the mental and physical anguish, it’s no surprise you didn’t notice Julia wasn’t next to you. Panic surges through you. Was it all a horrible nightmare? Are you still alone?

But then, relief. As Julia bursts through the door. She’s wearing an apron and looks rattled. She was making breakfast. You can smell it. You’ve never had homemade breakfast. Despite having had the kitchen installed down the hall. She’s next to you, holding you before you can flinch away. Not that you would have. This safety is new. It’s nice. You don’t deserve it. 

She’s cradling you, making cooing noises. Like soothing a frightened child. It would be a bit pitiful if you weren’t crying in her lap. 

“What happened?” She asks softly, afraid to startle you. 

“Nightmare.” You don’t know how to explain to her that these are normal, but your subconscious has now chosen sides and is waging a civil war in your mind. Whatever the Farm did to you last time isn’t healing anytime soon. Something inside you is trying to get out.

“I made you breakfast.” She says while stroking your hair. Your neat braid came apart. The silver-grey hair coats your back and pillow. You absent-mindedly wonder if Julia would braid it for you. You used to do it for her, but you’re not sure if that was due to inability or if she liked you touching her.

“It smells really good. Is it ready?” Your voice is shaky to your ears. No point in acting tough. Julia wouldn’t believe you anyway. She may not know everything about you, but she can still read you well.

She nods and leads you into the kitchen. There’s eggs, bacon, and toast. You’re not even sure where she got this food. Or if she got it herself. You don’t ask because you’re sure she was careful. She knows what’s at stake if you’re caught collaborating. And you don’t know if the other Rangers know where she is or that you’re together. She doesn’t keep those secrets well. Thankfully, Sidestep and Charge were known for being flirty. So Arya and Julia Ortega can be, too.

Your morning routine is different when Julia is there. You know today will be rough. It’s probably going to hurt, too. You suspect the Rangers may be on your side, but they’ll still take you seriously. They’re still going to be watching for any sign of deceit. There’s hypocrisy in their doubt of you. You smile to yourself. You know each of the Rangers, Sentinel, and Blaze have killed before. The only person you’ve killed was The Void. And even then, you’re not sure they're dead. You may be a villain, but your moral superiority still beats the government’s angels. Though, that might be why they’ve switched loyalties.

“I’m going to rendezvous with the Rangers at HQ. We’ll be at Hollow Ground’s compound sometime after nine.” Julia looks ready for war. No, this isn’t Julia. This is Charge. Charge is ticked off. Charge is ready for revenge. You hope she can take it out on Hollow Ground. Hope someone gets something out of this meeting. You’re not certain you’ll be getting anything except more questions.

The day passes without much incident. You’re monitoring feeds from your office. You have no need to make a show as Heartbreak until tonight. You planned to take on Hollow Ground eventually. It might as well be today. Can’t change the status quo unless you take down the ruling class.

BEEP. 

A tone startles you from your thoughts. You have one cell phone for your villainy and one for your personal life. This was the villainy cell. Like your own personal hotline for evil. 

“Mon cherie, I think I’m ready to talk.”

You let out a sigh of relief. Mortum being open for talking again was faster than you’d expected but she didn’t seem necessarily angry when you left Joes last night.

“Hey… okay.”

“While I wish you wouldn’t have lied to me. I understand why you did. I can’t stop thinking about how much you had to go through to be here.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” You try to joke, but it sounds stale. “So what now?”

“What do you need from me, mon cherie?”

“What do you mean?” Is she offering to help in a more official capacity? She’s always been your supplier for Heartbreak’s plans, but she’s never come to you first.

“Well, you’re leading a valiant crusade against the powers that be. You must need some gear. Or am I very much mistaken that you’ve decided to take the fight to Hollow Ground?”

“How do you know about that?” You’re panicking. She shouldn’t know about this yet. Eden would have told her, sure. Arya hasn’t yet. Your mind swims with paranoia. Distrust.

“Relax, mon cherie, I saw Manalo at the bar. I put it together. It’s about time.” The anxiety is still there, but no warning lights go off in your mind. Mortum is a brilliant scientist. She can piece things together.

“Sorry. I’ve been high-strung the last few days. A lot has changed.” You close your eyes for a moment. Centering yourself. “Right now, I don’t need anything besides some good luck.” You smile because you’re talking to her like Eden would. Like a best friend.

“Then, mon cherie, I shall wish you good luck. I will be on the lookout for you to call me and tell me how it goes.” 

Friendship. She’s offering you an olive branch. Despite how undeserving you feel, Julia and Mortum have kept you afloat. Even if Julia didn’t know that. Especially since you barely understood that. Mortum, though, kept you sane. Through Eden. But sane. Human. 

“I will.” You hope your smile translates well over the phone. “I’ll send you a text when I’m safe. Or when the Rangers have apprehended me.” Too late you remember you haven’t told her your plans.

You hear a brief spitting noise. Sounds like the good doctor lost her coffee. You explain yourself before she can chastise you.

“The Rangers and I are working this one together. Unofficially. And they’ll need to put me down in a realistic manner to keep up the charade.” 

“Well, that certainly is a plan that cannot go wrong, mon cherie.” 

Sarcasm. Good. Friends again.

Hanging up, you spend time reviewing the plans of the villa you acquired. Few exits, but it appears to be open to the surroundings. Windows are probably reinforced, but you can manage that. The big question is why Hollow Ground is meeting you come in armor. Heartbreak is Los Diabolos’ hottest new villain. You may not be Pyschopathor, but your feats have been dangerous. And your defeat of the Rangers put you on all the unofficial villain lists. Thankfully, those lists don’t include the large number of villains you’ve put down. Or how many leads you’ve given the DA. Or that you haven’t fought any heroes except for the ones now currently allied with you. Hollow Ground must expect you to be compliant, then. And given their powerset, they might try to influence you. You need to expect trickery. This is Los Diabolos’ kingpin. A finger in every pie. Every line on your planning board goes through them.

The planning board. Your map to freedom. To salvation. Opening the door to your lair, you step inside. A hiss sounds as it seals behind you. Here, you plan your anarchy. Bringing this system to its knees and rebuilding it in your image. Humans made this monster. They also made you. And you will be their unmaking. 

No. No, you are a monster. Do not be the villain they think you are. Hold onto it. Onto the human element. 

Hold onto Julia.

Hold.

A deep breath. Two. Three. You need to control yourself. You are not a tyrant. You are not a politician. You will find someone to install when the FEZ cracks. When they realize their undoing was their own creation. But there are sheep amongst the wolves. They don’t know what was done to you. Though they know about Re-Genes and the Special Directive, you doubt they have ever considered you sentient. Why should they? Status quo has told them you’re nothing more than a tool. No. When the oligarchs of the Free Economic Zone fall, you will install someone just. Fair. You have candidates, but that part of the plan is far too distant to consider further. 

On the board, lines connect Hollow Ground to other monsters of Los Diabolos. Mayor Alvarez. Catastrofiend. Psychopathor. The Void. Heartbreak. Legends of nightmarish potential who have terrorized the people for far too long. Have terrorized you. Your nightmares are a constant reminder of who made you into this. Forged by the Farm. Tried and tested by the Void and Catastrofiend. Bathed in the sea of Nanovores. Baptized in the wake of Heartbreak. Now, you take the name for yourself. As a reminder to those who know the truth. The Farm should see your name and quake. They know your warpath ends with them. It is only a matter of time until you can piece everything together. Until you know what they’re hiding. 

In your scheming, you lose track of time. It is nearly 8:30 by the time you’re suited up and heading down your private elevator.

A message on your HUD pings a message from Julia. The sap.

“Good luck tonight. We’ll go easy on you. Love you.” Butterflies. Is this what being human is like? These thoughts? These emotions? One day at a time. Maybe you’ll just manage to survive.

You shoot back a sarcastic “You sap,” and finally dare to respond with, “I love you too.” You close the window quickly, breathing more rapidly than you’d like. The elevator dings.

Rosie is in the garage, as always. She knows the plan and wordlessly starts the car. A much more low-key luxury vehicle this time. Hollow Ground is expecting a level of decorum. And while you don’t care what Hollow Ground thinks of you, you must keep up appearances. More masks.

The ride feels like it takes forever. You still get pre-mission nerves despite having been Heartbreak for almost a year. In the field, you’re calm and collected. The armor helps cover your insecurities. Your inhumanity. Paranoia and mistrust have kept you alive in your time of villainy. As it did in your vigilante era. Before you died. Before you were broken. No time for those thoughts. Instead, you force them to drift to last night’s discussion with the Rangers. It could have gone worse. They could have arrested you. You would have gone down fighting. Break Julia’s heart again. Like you probably will anyway. You’re Heartbreak, after all. And yet you’re not sure if they quite understood your desperation. They don’t seem to realize that the Farm is dangerous. That they’re planning something. Something huge. Something deadly. Something only you can stop. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Rosie taps on the car’s dividing window. You nod to her and, over the intercom, say, “Go home for the night. No matter what, I won’t be coming back to base for a bit.” She nods, looking apprehensive, but waves as she pulls away. You don’t wave back. You’re Heartbreak now. Time to act your role. If it’s even acting. Brutality comes easy to you. Thankfully it’s been directed at Los Diabolos’ more unsavory population. Will you lose your head tonight? Now would be the time. You know the Rangers won’t keep you, or at least you hope they won’t. Arya couldn’t do what was necessary. But Heartbreak can.

There’s a guard at the door to the villa. You can’t sense any dampeners. No one knows you’re a telepath. Good.

Approaching the guard, you fall back into character. Heartbreak is flamboyant, big, loud. Something Arya could never be.

“Good evening, fellow henchman!” Your voice modulator sends just the right amount of sarcasm to your words. Ticking off henchmen makes them harder to predict, but angry people are easier to manipulate. “I am here to meet Los Diabolos’ king.” You’re not shouting, but you can see him wince. He’s outfitted with normal mods. Probably class B. Not a war machine, but will pack a punch if needed. 

“They’re inside.” He looks like he would rather not let you in but steps aside as the door opens. 

The inside of the villa is as you expected. Your sources deliver on their reliability once again. The door from which you entered is the only solid structure in the building. The remaining three walls are windowed, and the one opposite of you opens up onto the ocean below. The wall behind you is patterned with rock, like pebbles on a riverbed. The windows ahead of you look reinforced. You expect it would take solid munitions to carve through it. You hope the Rangers are equipped for a battle. 

A woman who looks to be in her 40s or 50s is seated in a fairly cushy seat. She looks older than Julia but younger than Steel. Though you know the Hero drug and mods can change one’s appearance. And you know Hollow Ground can afford to keep up the maintenance. The other two in the room are known to you. At least tangentially. One is Nocturne. A darker-skinned woman closer to your age. Her eyes are as gold as her garments, like Midas himself touched her. You’re aware her boost is sight-related, but you’re unsure what else she has available. More Medusa than Midas. Further back is Jake Manalo. You know he’s a hitman and a bruiser. You also know his powers are a bit more mysterious. He can change the density of his body, and very few have lived to report on him.

“Heartbreak,” the woman in the middle smiles, “Welcome to my humble abode.” She spreads her hands as if welcoming an old friend. 

Now that you’ve gotten closer to her, you notice several things. Firstly, she looks like an older version of you. Of Arya. Not exactly identical, but if you squinted and saw her from afar, someone might mistake the two of you. Probably why Julia thought you two were related. And, well, you probably are. The Farm only takes the best donors.

“It is certainly… humble.” You try for some humor. Heartbreak is a comedian, after all. All the villain forums said so. “Makes my base look much more evil-villainy.” You see her smirk, good. 

“I, as you can probably tell, am Hollow Ground.” She stands up to shake your hand. This is probably how she does it. You could shake her hand with the glove or keep up pretenses of friendliness and remove it first. You’re fairly certain you can resist the threading, but the last thing you need is to get killed tonight because you couldn’t resist her powers. 

Shaking her hand with your gloved one, you sit down at the offered chair opposite the kingpin. You speak first. Heartbreak is a volatile figure. Dealing with Los Diabolos’ underground has made you more proactive. Less like Sidestep. Sidestep is dead. You are not. Not yet.

“So, Jake tells me you have some information I’d be interested in.” You nod at Jake. He doesn’t nod back. You scoff; the modulator makes it sound like a bark.

Hollow Ground pretends not to notice the slight and says, “You are correct. Have you had any run-ins with the Special Directive yet?” 

Your mouth goes dry. You don’t sense any thought voids in the area. You’re powerful enough to be able to tell. The Rat King signals all good. You try to breathe, their chittering calming you like always. “I have not yet had the misfortune,” you say, thankful the modulator masks your nervousness. “They’re far too rare to be sent after the likes of me.” Eventually, you will be a large enough threat to warrant them. But not yet.

“Well, I assume you’re aware of who and what they are?” You nod. “Good, then you should know that they’re contracted by the FEZ and U.S. government to rope in large-scale disasters. Psychopathor being the last target that required their use.” You know this very well. You’re the one who called them.

“I had heard the titan was brought to heel by the Directive. What does this have to do with me? I don’t imagine you’re going to call them on such a small threat as myself.” You put as much humor into your voice as you can muster. It seems to do the trick.

Laughing, Hollow Ground says, “No, of course not. They’d paint my walls red, and I don’t exactly want to redecorate yet. No, I called you here because I know your plans for Los Diabolos include shuffling the status quo.” She pauses and takes a sip of a glass of brownish liquid. She also drinks dark liquor. A coincidence? Probably not.  

“And while I know that includes me, I figured I could redirect you for a bit. The Directive has plans that include this city as well as all of the FEZ.” You know this, but how does she? And you do know the Directive is planning something. That the Farm is. But you only know it has to do with the failing Core. What the Core protects is the largest unknown.

She continues, “The Directive wants to install themselves as an arbiter of power and control. And I’m willing to point you in the right direction. If you agree to work with me.” 

There it is. There’s the bargain. She’s worried. She knows you’ve brutally beaten many of her associates. Umbral’s missing income probably hurt more than she’s letting on. 

You laugh, the noise sounding demonic on the modulator, “Work for you?” You continue to laugh. It becomes slightly manic. It feels good. 

“I like the spirit, though!” You probably sound like a madman. You doubt anyone has laughed in Hollow Ground’s face and lived. But here you are. True to form. 

“Actually, I have a question for you: why did you let me walk in here in my armor?” This was something that bothered you about this meeting. They know you’re dangerous in armor. Hollow Ground doesn’t let anyone see her face, but here you are. Anonymous. You laugh. 

You could tell something was wrong with the layout of this house. Hollow Ground thinks your powers are related to disintegration. That has been the media’s current understanding of you. You know from the Villain Indexing System that Heartbreak’s boosts aren’t known. And no dampeners means Hollow Ground doesn’t know either. You suspect this house might be invulnerable to most known disintegratory powers. 

“Because you either join us, or we’ll kill you.” Hollow Ground is deadly serious now. Jake’s powers would be difficult to fight if you were reliant on a disintegration-type power. His ability to shift through matter makes disintegration nearly impossible. “You’re a danger to our operation. I had hoped you would cooperate.”

Your laugh echoes through the chic home.

“Is something funny?” Her voice now drips with venom. She appears placid, but you can feel her emotions. Even passively, as you’ve restrained your telepathic senses. Anger. Good. Time to turn it up a notch. 

“I don’t like killing.” You’re thankful no one can see into your helmet. You’re scowling. Sitting before you is the villain who killed Marshall Hood. The kingpin of Los Diabolos. One more hurdle for you to clear in your pursuits. “But I know you don’t mind it.” As you talk, you pick up the liquor bottle in front of you. It’s filled with a brown liquid. You twist the cap off and twirl it between your fingers. Be unpredictable. Be enigmatic.

Before she can speak, you continue, “Now, I’m a forgiving villain, but I do not wish to replace one evil with another. And you’ve caused enough heartbreak.” You laugh at your own joke. Maintain the act. Be the villain. 

Swirling the bottle, you don’t look at Hollow Ground when she speaks again. “A bleeding heart? I would never have expected it.” She motions to the guards at the door to remain where they are. You knew they were approaching, but you’re not supposed to be a telepath. “How are you going to change the world without causing some mayhem?”

“I can cause plenty of mayhem without leaving any corpses. There are far worse things than death.” Your laugh sounds manic, but this is the most honest thing you’ve said tonight. You knew tonight was going to go badly or very badly. Seems Hollow Ground has chosen the latter.

Now, however, you sense movement in the surrounding neighborhood. It’s time to act.

“So your answer? Will you work with us?” You had felt your anger coming far before she had made the offer. But now it’s boiling over. How dare she. How dare she puppeteer this city. From her cushy villa. From her anonymity. This is the person who’s caused Julia so much pain. So much suffering. There are many oligarchs in this city. They all need to be put down. 

Red. You see red.

As an answer, the bottle cap you twirled between your fingers strikes Hollow Ground between the eyes. Still got it. One of your old Sidestep tricks. Hilarious every single time. 

“Did you just fucking…” 

Jake flings himself over the couch, but you are already moving; the liquor bottle cracks over his skull with a sharp, sickening noise. 

Jake goes down, not out. He went dense, likely angry at your insolence. Your servos are whirring, and the Rat King is tracking the henchmen behind you. You know Nocturne’s power will be a danger. Good thing you don’t need eyesight to fight. You flip the table with a kick and send it flying at Nocturne. She dodges, barely. 

You leap over the overturned table and catch Nocturne in a backhand. She goes sliding across the ground. The Rat King alerts you to Jake, but you’re a fraction too late. It appears like he’s gone light - more mobile. He phases through you, and a roundhouse kick sends you into the reinforced glass in the same movement. The glass is tough. You’re tougher. A loud crack shoots through the villa. Your suit blinks an orange light, notifying you of compromised integrity to your back plate. Something to have Mortum fix later.

A henchman is on you before you’re fully on your feet. He’s the one from the entrance; the other two in the room are helping Nocturne to her feet. Now it’s five on one. You like those odds. With the exoskeleton set to full power, you go to work.

The first henchman, you call him Chrome-face, as half of his skull is shoddily melded to a metal plate. He seems to have some sort of electrical ability. A mixture of boosts and mods. Chrome-face takes his first - and last - swing at you. Sidestepping this, you pull the full force of your strike into his skull. The metal half dents. The fleshy half breaks. A scream. He skitters to a stop a few yards from you. Still alive, Rat King tells you. Good. 

The second and third henchmen are not even memorable enough to name. Tactically, their best opportunity would be to take you at the same time. Alas, this is likely why they’re henchmen. And you suspect, from the makeup of these two, that Hollow Ground expected your “disintegration powers” to be ineffective. You’ve already shown the world that the nanovores eat inorganic material. The two in front of you appear boosted, not modded.

A pyrokinetic power flares on the first as he reaches you. You catch his fist in your hand. His fire is hot. But your armor takes it without issue. With a flourish, the fire-user is flipped over your back and collides with the wall. The second henchman, a geomancer, flings a large boulder-shaped object at you. You deflect it easily and deliver a kick to his sternum, which snaps with a sickening crunch. He flies directly into Hollow Ground, who, until moments before, appeared unsure if the battle was going her way or not.  

With a thud, both go over the couch and come to rest behind Nocture and Jake. Nocture shouts, going to help her boss to her feet. Hollow Ground looks bloodied and bruised.

You turn to the fire-using henchman at your feet and deliver a well-placed kick to the head. Blood and teeth erupt from his slack jaw.

Manalo is on you before you can savor the damage. Jake’s fist collides with your helmet, and you see stars. Too slow. Weak. Distracted. Too human. 

You kick out and catch his shin, but it probably hurts you more than he. His density is a power you’re not sure how to counter. Dodging the second strike, you consider your options. 

Then pandemonium. 

The Rangers have arrived.

The first thing you notice is the smell of ozone. 

It burns the air around you. Your helmet covers the toxicity of the smell, but you can still feel it. 

All three henchmen were quickly disposed of, leaving Nocturne, Jake Manalo, and Hollow Ground. One moment. Two. Three. Then you’re on Jake. Nocturne is doing her best to shuttle Hollow Ground out of the main room. You peripherally suspect there to be a safe room somewhere in the house. Likely with an escape entrance for the kingpin. 

Jake must not have expected you to leap on him as he was soft enough to hit. Once. Twice. Three times. Your enhanced strength tests the limits of his durability. The limits were reached. Manalo stops struggling. His face is a mash of flesh. You’re laughing. You live for this. Cracking the skulls of Los Diabolos’ underworld. The world you’re on top of. Hollow Ground is next. You look up to find her. To hunt down the remainder of this syndicate.

Behind you, you hear Charge roar. Primal. Angry. Very different from the noises you’ve heard her make recently.

Jake begins to struggle again, apparently regaining consciousness despite the serious head wounds. In for a penny. You hit him again. And again. And—

—A fist hits the side of your head.

Then nothingness.

#fallen hero #fallen hero retribution #fhr #sidestep

[random-introverted-blog]

I'm really enjoying your fic His Star - His Queen. Haven't played the game to be honest, I just came across your fic looking up obsessive/possessive behavior tags on AO3 and became obsessed with Astarion when I looked at YouTube videos. I don't have a AO3 account so I'm glad you put a link to your Tumblr. Do you have any fic recommendations from AO3 or Tumblr? Are there any fics where spawn!Astaraion and asscended!Astarion are twins?

Wowowow that's amazing! I'm beyond flattered that I helped you discover… well… all of this! Thank you for the compliment, it means so much to me. Glad you found the link to my tumblr helpful!

Well then, welcome to the bg3 and Astarion fandom. I'd be happy to give you a tour! See, this is where we keep all the batstarion content, this is where the Spawn Astarion and Ascended Astarion girlies fight duels to the death and over there is one of their many warzones. You see that in the distance? That's the dark place.

We don't talk about what's in the dark place. But the spot adjacent is where the Astarion fanfiction writers are allowed to see their friends and loved ones! See, we Astarion fanfiction writers are shackled to our keyboards 6 out of 7 days of the week and are only allowed to step away to use the bathroom… maybe even shower.

But I digress. While I love the concept of Astarion having an evil twin, I don't know of any like that. The common concept people go for when writing them in the same space - is that one time traveled from another reality (like HS-HQ). All of my reccomendations are on AO3 and I'll of course link them as we go! Fair Warning! These will have some elements of dubious consent, outright Non-con and/or a wide array of abuse. Emotional, mental, and physical. Please take any tags and warnings the authors use seriously! Read responsibly!

Lose yourself in me by Cesela

Completed and my all-time favorite Ascended Astarion story, hands down. The detailed and immersive writing, and the way Astarion is portrayed, I still reread it all to this day.

The Summary: When an ascended Astarion offers to make you his dark consort, his right hand, his most beloved vampire spawn, you reject the offer. However it appears he was not as willing to give you up as you were first led to believe. Your heart always belonged to the road, yet each twist and turn always brings you right back to Baldur’s gate. To him.

Tav goes on a journey of self and literal exploration after the events of Baldur's Gate and sort of takes up living with Gale in Waterdeep. But Astarion's shadow of obsession stalks her wherever she roams in Faerun. Their dynamic is addicting to read, the push and pull, the dialogue, the way it pulls at my heartstrings. This story had me instantly hooked, and I waited eagerly for every update until the very end. Honestly, just thinking about how much I loved this story could make me feral.

The Price of Freedom by Fawlhacee

Ongoing and dark as hell. It has Gale x Tav pairing that is the evident true pairing. It could surprise me by ending with Astarion x Tav but I'm usually not wrong - I've read enough fanfiction to have a solid idea of where a writer is intending their story to end.

The Summary: One year after saving Baldur's Gate, you and your future husband, the Wizard of Waterdeep, return to Baldur's Gate to announce the news to your parents. What you don't yet know is that your time together is limited, and your former companion will do everything to claim you as his own for eternity

Again, I love the way Astarion is written here. He's an absolute menace that you watch isolate and manipulate Tav into his gilded cage of horrors. The first two chapters are set up chapters with the Astarion x Tav story kicking off in Chapter 3. Starts off eerily pleasant and rapidly descends into dark, twisted and scheming Astarion. Definitely been an enjoyable read!

Oblivion & Obsession by alcetryx

Ongoing and even darker than The Price of Freedom, I think. Right from the gate, you know this is going to be a creepy, twisted ride like a stroll through a haunted carnival.

The Summary: You don't remember the terrifyingly handsome and cruel Vampire Lord of Baldur's Gate, but he remembers you. He insists on holding you to a vow you insist you never made. As the fragments begin to fall into place, you begin to piece together a puzzle. But to do so, you must question what you know, and separate truth from deception. Those who you swore you could trust suddenly appear much less honest.

Tav doesn't remember Astarion and I'm not sure how much I can say about it because of spoilers. It's a somewhat slow simmer until Astarion is actually introduced and not just an ominous, hushed whisper that isn't named. But everything after definitely sends you off on the rollercoaster of Astarion's behavior, emotions and the captor-captive dynamic between them while Tav tries to navigate the danger of him without remembering who he is. Also, the writers update schedule has my head spinning, very consistent, bonus points to them and an extra round of applause.

Bonus for the similar premise: Mirror, Mirror by ElleKhen

It's part 4 of a series but I didn't read the other 3. It's a good read if you're interested in Male Tav x Astarion.

The Summary: Years following the defeat of the Absolute, Church and Astarion have made a new life — a challenging, but happy life — for themselves in the Underdark. But after a ritual goes wrong, Church finds himself waking up in the arms of a different Astarion, in a world where a single decision led to a very different and devastating outcome to their story. While the Astarion and Gale of his world work tirelessly to bring him back home safe, Church fights not just to understand this new world and how his lover has changed in it, but also to retain his sovereignty in mind and body so that he may find his freedom from the elf his other self once loved.

It has Ascended vs Spawn, but they don't really exist in the same reality like in HS-HQ. It's sort of spoilery to say more than that. I will say [SPOILER] that I wish the ending touched more on the trauma that OC Tav would have from the ordeal inflicted on him by Ascended Astarion. As sweet as it is that they can easily identify the difference between Spawn and Ascended and reconcile it. There's just something sweeter about struggling with your trauma and having a supportive partner, and finding your happiness with them despite it [END SPOILERS]

Those are the three that come to mind and I'm sure I could recommend more, but I know this answer is really long already. Thank you again, so much! I'm stunned and flattered by your compliment that I'm sort of at a loss for words <3 Hopefully those recommendations are what you're looking for!

BEFORE YOU GUYS GET ON ME FOR NOT RECOMENDING OTHER LARGER STORIES: I haven't read Hellish, and I haven't kept up with Unravel. It's not that I don't like those stories or the authors, I actually like their blogs but I don't know them personally or anything. So that they're not mentioned is nothing against them. Besides, those are stories larger than HS-HQ or the ones I listed, even including Lose yourself in me to an extent. Give the smaller guys a chance out here.

I've been in fandoms where my work would be buried under the much larger stories. Only to have someone somewhat higher on the totem pole give me a shout-out or something and pull my fic up to breathe. So let me try to be that for them.

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