#but having to deal with the paranoia she's going to burst into here and take my things again and she's gonna do it with my other stuff

[kisskissbanggang]

Disavowed - pt. 5

[5.4k Words/20min. Read - Reverend!Jisung & Reader - Priest!Chris & Reader - NSFW/NOT SMUT/Frightening Scenes and Violence - Church, Who Even Are You Anymore?, Jisung is a Rotten Bastard, So is Chris, Miserable Self-Reflection Skills, Confrontations, Your Housemates are Literally the Only Good People Here, Harrowing Guilt, Temptation, Salvation, There's a Reserved Spot in Hell for Men Like Him, Self-Doubt, Impossible Happenings, Paranoia, We Love to Make Boys Cry in This House, Cliffhanger, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic Behavior, Gross Abuse of Power Dynamics, Guns and Gun Violence, Cruel Rituals, Arson, Supernatural Horror, Implied Character Harm/Death, Police Chases, Manhunts]

[a/n #1: we're in the intense/frightening parts of our halloween series! this is quite honestly a supernatural horror with religious themes dealing with transformation, desire, and sacrifice. please pay attention to the tags above, especially the ones in bold pink so you can do what's right for you 💗]

[a/n #2: ty to @therhythmafterthesummer and @magicficwriting for beta reading and previewing 💗]

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Come Say Hi!]

“Dear, go make some more field trip forms, please,” she hastily ordered. “Delores is taking 4-H to the livestock auction next week.”

A stark lie if you ever heard one. The tray of field trip forms on Roberta’s reception desk was visibly full–

But then Jisung walked in, hands kept nervously at his sides. 

“Now, please,” the Sister emphasized. 

Jisung glanced at you and you quickly averted your gaze, instead scrambling to your feet and slipping out of the front office into the hallway.

At least now you knew for sure that Father James got the thumb drive you’d slipped in with his morning mail. 

Still, you hovered by the door. The Sister brandished her ruler like a pointer, directing Jisung into her office.

“Get a move on, Reverend,” she frowned.

Jisung hesitated before he stepped inside, and the Sister swiftly followed him, swinging the door shut with a slam. The white noise machines on both sides of her door clicked on a moment later, muffling the sound of Sister Judith laying into the reverend with force. You strained to hear better when a hand on your hip made you jump out of your skin. 

You whirled around, gasping sharply when you found Father James standing there. He almost looked amused by your reaction. 

“Pardon me, lamb,” he gruffly excused himself, “I’m sure you have work you’re supposed to be doing. You ought to go… do it.”

The way his eyes moved down over you from your head to your feet and back made you feel nauseous. You’d debated slipping the thumb drive to Sister Judith instead, but you knew there’d be no scenario in which Father James wouldn’t see the security footage of you and Jisung kissing on the library floor.

Your disgust was interrupted by the Father sliding into Sister Judith’s office. For a split second, you could hear the tirade.

“Heaven forbid, but what if a student had seen you?! Your reprehensible, disgusting behavior–”

Bile bubbled in your throat and you decided that, against your initial ruling, it was actually better if you left. Maybe not to the copy room, but anywhere else. Maybe the faculty room since it was class time and everyone you liked to avoid was currently occupied.

Except when you entered the main hallway proper, Chris was there once again, just like the previous week. He was caught off guard, looking at you from the other end of the hall. For a second, his hand raised like he was going to beckon you over so he could say something, but he apparently thought against this, his hand closing into a fist at his side and sharply turning his head back the way he’d been heading before continuing on his way.

You felt like you were going to burst into flames. 

No, you wouldn’t force yourself to endure the day. If you were going to be miserable and furious, you were going to do it from the comfort of your bed.

Your roommates that were home tried to leave you alone for approximately one minute. Minho broke first, brazenly letting himself into your room while you tried and failed to concentrate on reading a book, and nagging you to eat lunch before leaving a cup of tea and some cookies on your coffee table. Next was Jeongin, who brought you your mail while sheepishly reminding you that he and everyone were there to talk if you needed. Only later that afternoon, when your back started to get a little sore from stewing in bed, did you finally decide to get up when you saw Changbin’s car pull into his parking spot. 

What set you on edge, though, was that another car pulled in behind him. 

You sat up straight, looking out your window to see Jisung get out of his car in such a rush that he left the door open and scared the shit out of Changbin. Your roommate spun, immediately defensive when he recognized what was going on. 

Moving fast, you grabbed your slippers and ran downstairs, but by then all the boys were on the porch and in the driveway trying to get Jisung to fuck off as politely and geneally as possible.

“Dude, whatever your problem is, I don’t want it,” Seungmin argued.

Jisung tried to shoulder past him before Changbin stopped him. “I promise you, I just want to talk!” he angrily snapped.

“I hardly think any of us give a shit. I couldn’t give more a shit if you wanted to apologize, honestly,” Minho interjected, “I think it’s just better for everyone if you got in your car and left.”

Jeongin gently passed by you, ready to hand Seungmin his baseball bat when you snatched it yourself.

“That’s enough!” you announced. Everyone stopped. If you were anywhere near a better headspace, you’d almost enjoy all eyes on you, waiting to hear what you had to say. Hopefully, no one saw you shaking.

“I’m here. I’ll talk,” you firmly continued. “Only if it’s on the porch, and only if it’s civil.”

Your roommates all begrudgingly walked back into the house, but you knew fully well they were all listening on the other side of the door. Truth be told, you were thankful for it.

Jisung, meanwhile, tried to regain his composure.

You wondered if you would feel nearly as brave if you weren’t holding a baseball bat. “Well? How was your meeting?” you asked after a tense pause. 

Apparently, Jisung lost all progress on calming down in that split second. He let out a rude, cruel laugh. “You know what? I feel real sorry for you.”

You raised your eyebrows in disbelief. “Pardon me?”

“There’s something truly wrong with you,” the reverend ranted. “I nearly lost everything because of you! I’m lucky Father James and the Sister are fucking sympathetic because Lord knows you’re not!”

“I’m sorry,” you dryly scoffed, “but how the fuck did I make you almost lose everything?!” You boldly took a step forward, making Jisung flinch and cower back an inch. The space allowed you to capitalize on this, and you lifted the bat, menacingly jabbing him in the shoulder. 

“I didn’t make you be nice to me!” you accused with a jab.

“I didn’t make you kiss me!” 

Jab.

“I didn’t make you go out with me, or fuck me, or become obsessed with me! So, please, tell me: how did I make you lose almost everything?”

Jab.

By now, Jisung was off the porch step, and you towered over him. Regardless, he squared his shoulders, standing tall in his audacity. “You are a rotten fucking snake!” he bellowed. “Whatever is wrong with you, it’s not normal! It’s fucking inhuman, is what it is, and if you’re wise then you’ll try to seek forgiveness.”

“How about you?” you sneered. “Are you going to seek forgiveness?”

Jisung fumed, grabbed the baseball bat out of your hands, and pointed it back at you. “Why the fuck are you doing this? What are you getting out of this?!”

The front door slammed open behind you but you held out a hand, trying to continue taking care of this yourself. Instead, with Jisung seeing your roommates gathered behind you, he pitifully swung the bat underhanded onto the lawn and then marched back to his car before speeding off.

Despite everyone’s best efforts, you were shaken well into the night, and not for their lack of trying. 

No, it was because no one heard what you heard.

Why are you doing this?

What are you getting out of this?

You hated thinking about Chris.

And whatever Jisung meant by Father James and Sister Judith being “sympathetic” to him, you did not want to know. The way that you’d presented serious evidence and Jisung apparently was able to plead his case and not lose everything put the taste of ash in your mouth.

You tried to quietly reflect in your room. When that didn’t work, you tried writing everything down. When you hated that, you found yourself pacing back and forth. You were restless and upset and it felt like something inside you was going to combust.

So you walked out. 

Felix tried to stop you, feebly attempting to get you to stay and watch some cooking show with him, clearly aware that you weren’t doing so hot. You didn’t even change into sneakers. Your socked feet only had your slippers for protection, and you hadn’t bothered to switch out your cardigan over your lounging clothes for a better jacket. The cold night air stung your cheeks and rattled your chest.

You walked and you walked, arms meagerly folded across your chest to shield you from the slight wind chill. Where you were going or where you’d end up, you had no idea. All you knew was that every time you thought you saw a sedan that looked like Jisung’s, you turned and walked the other way. 

All of this felt so raw. You didn’t even feel like yourself anymore.

But who were you to begin with?

People had told you that you were pretty before. You’d slept with people before. People had loved you before.

But why did it feel so good when you captured and kept Chris’ attention until it was too good to handle?

And how did it go so wrong when you did the same thing to Jisung?

You felt like a monster, but that didn’t even feel like the problem.

All you did was what you wanted. That’s how this all started. No doubting yourself or concern over outcome. 

A concern over the time suddenly occurred to you, and it was only then that you realized you’d left your phone back at the boarding house. It was late, too late for most businesses to be open and provide a chance for you to throw in the towel and call Seungmin to give your sorry ass a ride back to the house, but you thankfully found yourself on the main street. The one gas station that was still open was only a block away–

And so was Chris’ truck, parked out back.

At least, it looked like it, but it was hard to tell in the dark with only streetlights to help you. You padded closer to get a better look–when a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind, hauling you off your feet. Your eyes scrunched shut when you tried to scream, and this kept you from seeing who exactly threw a sack over your head. Adrenaline surged through you. Your fingertips felt hot and numb at the same time. There was a soft buzz in your ear lining any and all sound. You cursed and thrashed and screamed, trying like crazy to fight off whoever was trying to take you away, until a punch to your gut knocked the air out of you and you were thrown into a cramped vehicle.

The breath in your lungs coughed out and wheezed in, muffled gasps under the sack covering your head and you felt boneless yet petrified, powerless to do anything when your wrists were tied together. All you could manage to do was try to catch your breath while you were being driven somewhere. You tried to feel which way the vehicle turned, where exactly it was heading, but you confused yourself trying to keep up until your journey was cut unexpectedly short. Two pairs of hands clutched at you and hauled you back out into the night air, but another set of footsteps could be heard ahead of you.

Kicking felt useless, but it was all you could attempt to do. You tried to calm yourself enough to think now that you were out in plain air, however the bag over your head made you feel like you were choking. A hand clutched particularly hard on your sleeve and you wished like crazy that it would just let go. 

The hand suddenly relinquished you, its bearer hissing with a curse. 

Father James. 

“What’s the matter?” came an impatient voice. A woman. 

Sister Judith, obviously. You could hear her frown. 

“Little monster zapped me,” Father James grumbled as he tried to adjust something, possibly multitasking. “Here, hold this–what do you mean, no? God, you’re useless. Fine, we probably won’t even need it.”

You were tripping over your feet as you were manhandled into walking. If you could just figure out where you were, then you could try to devise an escape plan. First you’d been driven, really only for a few minutes. Then your slippers were dragging over pavement as you were being hauled to your next destination, and a door opened. There were jangling keys in a lock of a heavy door. 

The Sister was too far away for her to be the other set of hands on you. There was one on your shoulder, and another on your waist. This wasn’t Father James, whose strong hands were icy frigid and gnarled like tree branches. One clutched onto your arm, and the other held onto the nape of your neck like one would scruff a dog. Your footsteps echoed on linoleum tile now. Whatever room you were in sounded huge. 

“Get her up,” Father James instructed. A light switch flipped somewhere off to the side. The dark room gained one hazy light source outside the bag on your head. Your breath eked out in shallow gasps. The hands on you roughly hoisted you onto a table or some other tall surface. 

“Let’s begin,” the Father directed seriously. “You’ll need to hold her down. I don’t want to resort to heavier restraints but we can if needed.”

The person he was directing picked up your bound hands from where you had them clutched at your chest, and then lifted back over your head. Your back arched uncomfortably.

“Oh,” he continued, too casually for how panicked you were, “and remove the blindfold. We need to see her face.”

The old man began to pray quietly under his breath when the sack was pulled from your head. One light shining overhead blinded you momentarily, but the face over yours, the person holding fast onto your bound wrists, haloed in light–

Was Jisung. 

You didn’t know why he looked just as surprised to see you. He was the one that got you into this situation to begin with. You knew it.

Whatever is wrong with you, it’s not normal.

It’s fucking inhuman.

You hadn’t thought much of it at the moment, wanting only for Jisung to get the hell away from you, but you knew it instantly. Your eyes watered in realization.

Of course Father James and Sister Judith were sympathetic to the reverend.

He convinced them that whatever he did wasn’t his fault whatsoever. It was yours.

And it was unholy.

This was a goddamn exorcism.

Jisung’s wide eyes shook looking down at you, almost like he was coming to terms with the consequences of what he’d done. You still uselessly wriggled in his grip but you were already exhausted. There was only enough energy left in you to recognize that this wasn't just an undisclosed location; this was the church. Jisung was holding you down on the altar, one light illuminating the surface in the dark chapel. 

“It’s okay,” he quickly tried to reassure you with a rushed whisper. 

Maybe he was reassuring himself. 

“Fuck you!” you screamed, capping it off by spitting right in his face. Really, from this angle it reached an apex and fell to hit you instead. Jisung didn’t try to remove the spray that did land on him. In the background, Sister Judith tutted at your outburst. Father James continued praying. 

“I’m doing this because I care!” the young deacon rationalized, his wavering voice still low. “We’re friends!”

You thrashed in retaliation with some renewed vigor. “Friends?! Friends don’t do this, Jisung!”

Father James waved over the Sister. Now they were praying together. 

“Friends don't do what you did either,” Jisung scolded you, no longer whispering. He leaned down to softly press his lips to your temple. You craned your face away from him as much as you could manage. Shamefully, tears were beginning to bead in the corners of your eyes. 

“Jisung,” you pleaded, trying to hold down a sobbed hiccup, “help me. Please.”

“I’m going to,” he nodded quickly, and kissed your forehead again. “We’re saving you!”

There were tears brimming in his eyes, too. Neither of you had looked away from each other just long enough for the old priest to get up to his feet. Sensing him beside you, you were startled to see him standing there with his hand cocked back, the other hand clutching his bible. 

The first slap across your face was instant. 

Jisung flinched with a jump. His hands on your wrists were either meant to restrain you or comfort you. Eyes wide, quivering lips parted to almost say something, he looked from you, to Father James, and back. 

“I’m calling on the spirit possessing this devout body,” the Father began, voice serious and booming. He slapped you again, the sting matching the pitch of your cry in the echoes of the empty church. Why the fuck did it hurt where he wasn’t even touching you?

Jisung–that snake–looked distraught. “I’m sorry–” he uttered. A tear rolled down his cheek, getting caught in the traces of saliva you’d spat at him. 

“You’re sorry?!” you shrieked with a hysterical laugh. Spite surged down through your ribs. “What did you expect?!”

Father James interrupted your exchange when he pressed the bible in his hand into your sternum. You shifted uncomfortably under the weight. Sickeningly, you realized he was giving himself leverage for the next slap. 

Your screams didn’t feel like your own voice. 

“I’m calling on the spirit possessing this devout body,” he repeated, more menacingly this time. Sister Judith approached now. You frantically wondered why, but then felt Jisung’s grip on you faltering. 

“Sister,” Father James called over his shoulder, “watch the boy. I’m taking over.”

With surprising strength, the Father looped a finger into Jisung’s collar and pulled him aside, sending the reverend falling to the floor beside Sister Judith. That sting was worse now, pinpricks like little needles coursing through your skin and pushing through your chest. Why the hell did this hurt so badly?

Father James fumbled to reach under his arm and you saw now, with a nauseating realization, that he was wearing a holster. He haphazardly tossed his pistol to Jisung. “There,” he smirked, “now can you hold this? This is always the part that starts getting a little more wily. No telling what she’ll do.”

Jisung looked, eyes watering and red, down at the gun in his hands. Meanwhile, the old priest pushed his full weight on top of his hand pinning you to the altar, now having shifted so the curve of his index finger and thumb fell into the outline of your breast. He leaned down in the middle of his prayers. 

“I don’t think this was one of God’s gifts for you, lamb,” he chuckled in your ear, “but it seems this is one small one for me. I told you I can enjoy as many as I’m able to from right here–”

The rear entrance of the church rattled ominously, interrupting the whole ritual. You tried to get your wits about you and took a second to attempt sitting up while everyone was momentarily distracted. Your comfy t-shirt under your cardigan smelled burnt and you looked down, dumbstruck to see a bizarre scorch mark smoking through the material. Fighting to get leverage despite your tied wrists, Father James noticed and shoved you back down onto the altar when the rear entrance creaked again. The door cracked open then, and a breeze shambled in–

Along with Chris.

That son of a bitch came to save you.

Your shocked realization was in sync with an echoing gunshot ringing in your ears. Disbelieving, you looked at Jisung, who was just as surprised to see himself holding the gun aloft. You looked back at Chris, who stumbled backwards a step, trying to process what just happened. A bloom of red sprouted at his abdomen.

“Well, that’s not supposed to happen–” he wryly joked, almost a mere observation before he fainted, collapsing to the floor.

God, that was just your luck.

But maybe you didn’t need him after all. You weren’t even scared anymore. You were furious.

Whatever led him here at this moment, you just knew that there was no way Chris couldn’t have come sooner. There was no doubt in your mind that he could’ve prevented this entire debacle.

You were already angry. And now you were enraged. Chris wanted to help? He wanted to save you? 

You were going to strangle him when you got your hands on him, even if that asshole was dead by then. 

But you had other business to sort out first.

When you looked at the old man again, your glare narrowed. Every sensation of disgust that you’d ever experienced from him shot through you like a bolt, and you heard that same zap again. Father James’ eyes widened before he let go of you, taking a wary step back. You sat up and bit the knot on your restraints loose. Sister Judith approached while Jisung retreated, scrambling backward. Your focus shifted to the nun, and her arms flailed when she uncontrollably stopped in place.

See? You knew you’d be able to get out of this yourself.

Father James struggled as you willed him closer, falling to his knees in front of the altar while you hopped off. Chris dazedly roused, watching from the bottom of the doorway to the rear hall and clutching his stomach. You wrapped a hand around one of the large pillar candles by the altar and pulled it out of its stand. The Father gazed up at you, not understanding what was happening when he couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of the old man’s breast pocket and flicked the cardboard packet open. His lighter sat inside. You grabbed it and carelessly dropped the pack before lighting the pillar candle. Almost ceremoniously, you presented the candle to Father James. He gulped, straining while he tried to deny his hands accepting it. The wax dripped as you walked up to the ambry, by the door to the robe room at the front of the church. All eyes were on you again, and it felt invigorating, energizing you when you opened the ambry to grab the holy oils inside. You uncapped one at a time, never knowing these were here before the idea ever occurred to you and never really caring to know what exactly they were. All you knew was they simply smelled nice as you meticulously emptied each one onto the floor of the chapel, up to the tapestries hanging from the ceiling that brushed the tile. Father James was pale when you came back to him. The last bottle of holy oil emptied into a pool at his knees. This felt so visceral, so dire, but for reasons you didn't fully grasp yet entirely trusted, it felt deserved. 

“W-what is this?” he pitifully asked. “What are you?”

“I thought you knew, Father,” you answered, a newfound calm washing over you. “You wouldn't exorcize a woman just for fun, would you?”

The man gulped again. “I’m… I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

You shrugged, almost benevolent. “How about this, lamb. If you think you deserve forgiveness, you won’t lay that candle down.”

The two of you locked eyes then, staring each other down like you were looking for answers inside of each other. 

Meanwhile, you decided to extend some kindness.

“Sister,” you called, your gaze unmoving from the Father. “You may leave.”

At once, Sister Judith gathered her habit away from her feet, wiping stunned tears from her eyes as she fled down the aisle and out the vestibule. Jisung, who was never made to stay in place, followed right behind her.

Father James solemnly laid the candle down. 

You looked around the altar as the blaze began, chasing the stream of oil up the tapestries. The smoke burned your nose but felt deliriously good. Chris, by the door, was gingerly trying to get up to his feet.

Still, you exerted some more mercy. The flames at Father James’ knees singed your slippers but it didn’t hurt. You stepped closer to the old man and cupped his face in your hands.

“You don’t have to stay.”

James closed his eyes, his lips pulled back into a stoic frown.

You leaned down and picked Chris up to stand, slinging his arm around your shoulder with such an unexpected ease that you wondered if you could’ve simply carried him in your arms instead. The two of you walked out of the back entrance, suddenly facing the cold night air again as the church began to smoke. Sirens could be heard and you were brought back, all at once, to what the hell just happened.

This was terrible.

You made your way to Chris’ truck but Jisung was running up to you.

“You monster!” Jisung cried. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“What did you do?” you asked, stunned while Chris tried to dig in his pockets for his keys. “You’re not innocent, Jisung. You didn’t know what I would do, but you did this all the same.”

The sirens were coming in fast, and you realized that Jisung was still clutching the gun in one hand, and his cell phone in the other.

Bastard.

The cops were coming first, and Jisung reached for you, a stupid move with the pistol still in his hand. Chris leaned forward then, surprising you by shoving him back. You snatched the gun out of Jisung’s hand and pointed it back at him. You had no intent of shooting the poor asshole, but you wanted a second to shove Chris in the truck and climb in on top of him to scramble into the driver’s seat. Jisung watched helplessly as two cop cars came peeling into the church parking lot, and you stamped on the gas, putting a cloud of exhaust behind the truck when you charged out onto the main road.

Where you were heading, you had no idea, but the shock of the night finally settled into you. You melted into the bench seat of Chris’ truck, trying to process this all. He was thankfully quiet, trying to remain calm now that his bleeding appeared to slow down a little for some reason. A rag he found on the floor of the cab served decently as a makeshift bandage. The lights behind you were menacing, until you crossed city limits. Now you would only have to worry about the sheriff.

After roughly 10 minutes of recklessly fast driving, a question finally occurred to both of you, but Chris asked first.

“Where are we going?” he quietly asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sort of just driving.”

“Then start with Briar Bay.”

“That’s a good idea.”

More silence. 

“... I’m sorry,” Chris softly apologized.

There it was. Your energy returned.

“Sorry?” you snapped. “You abandoned me.”

“Abandoned you?! I’m terrified of you!”

Your shocked expression, even while focusing on the road, even in the dark, made Chris clam up. It began to rain outside, and you wondered if this was better or worse for trying to hide.

“... I’m sorry,” Chris sheepishly repeated. 

You didn’t like that it felt kind of nice, hearing him apologize. Meanwhile, with how fast you’d been driving down the country highway, you made it to Briar Bay almost ten minutes faster than normal, but you had no idea where to hide. The moment you pulled into town, the police department was already scattering patrol vehicles down the street. You steered Chris’ truck the other way, away from his neighborhood, but this meant heading down the main street. Your mind raced, and settled on parking down the alley by the Trawler. 

With Chris trying to keep up behind you, you snuck in the back entrance, only to find a sheriff and two officers asking around inside the bar. You ran back out into the alley, but now a cop was shining a flashlight into the truck. It was Chris’ turn to pull you along, ducking in Reflections, where the back door of the cafe was propped open while they cleaned for the night. The two of you sat under a prep table in painful silence, with everything feeling desolate. Chris held onto your hand, and you felt grateful for this.

Of course, this was short-lived, too. Even over the din of the rain, you heard a knock at the cafe door. The cops questioned the owners. Had they seen you? No, they remembered you, but didn’t see you tonight.

You both sighed in relief.

Oh. Could they come in and take a look around anyway?

Your feet felt heavy.

You tried to surreptitiously sneak back out of the back door of Reflections, only to find that the cops had fucking split up, two searching inside while one came around the side. Before you could do anything, he already had his radio held up to his lips. You had no idea what to do.

So when you spotted Barrett Bluffs up the dirt pathway, you felt crazed and desperate but it was your last chance. If there was nothing else, then you would refuse to be punished. The bluffs were far steeper when you approached the top; now you could see why the local kids liked to dare each other to look over the edge. Doing it yourself, you actually spied a pathway, not too far down.

And there was the cave.

The one with the vengeful spirit that destroyed that old church all those years ago.

Maybe they were in a similar situation.

The cops slowed down when they saw you and Chris approach the edge, cornered as it were.

When you peered over again, trying to wipe the rain out of your eyes for a better look, Chris grabbed your elbow. You looked to him, grateful when he took both your shoulders in his hands and kissed you. As he stopped, you realized he was crying. And, as it would turn out, so were you.

“Go to sleep!” he urged you, yelling over the rain and the waves below.

You stubbornly shook your head. “No, asshole! Why should I?!” 

“You’re not done falling!” he tried to explain through his tears. “You have to fall all the way. Go to sleep, baby, please.”

“Chris, please, don’t make me go to sleep,” you begged, “tell me what the hell is going on!”

“None of this is how it was supposed to go!” Chris continued, choking on sobbed breaths. “You are so strong and it scared the fuck out of me. I shouldn’t have left you. There’s one more thing I can do but I can’t come with you. You have to go alone. I just need you to go to sleep, is that okay?”

You whimpered as the cops carefully approached, guns drawn. Your heart was racing and pounding into your ribs. Chris’ thumbs massaged into your arms, attempting to reassure you.

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “that’s okay.”

Chris cracked a heartbroken smile and rested his forehead on yours. “The reward isn’t just for me; it’s for you, too. You’ll understand soon, I promise, but you have to fall, okay? All the way, and on your own, and then you can find me again when you do.”

You exhaled a shattered breath, your whole body trembling. “Chris, I’m scared.”

The cops were trying to decide who was going to attempt to grab you.

Chris’ hands, smeared in blood and coated in sweat and rain, cupped your face before he kissed you again. “I know, baby,” he nodded sympathetically, “so am I. You scare the hell out of me but you’re so, so perfect. You’ll find me again. It’s okay. Just go to sleep.”

And you did.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic

[messyyythoughts]

sands of zion, part 4.

fallout: new vegas Joshua Graham x female courier reader

author’s note: i am tipsy, have this xxx

summary: the Dead Horses want to move against the White Legs, but Joshua doesn’t expect the consequences...

warnings: war antics, the usual fallout: new vegas violence warning lol

••●••••●••••●••

since your conversation about Caesar, Joshua Graham had been watching you closely. you hadn’t mentioned or even inferred anything about Caesar since, treating the name like a fatal curse if spoken aloud. you seemed sober compared to how Joshua saw you before that conversation. where you’d take the time to talk with the Dead Horses each day and learn new words, now you stayed quiet and only spoke when spoken to. in Angel’s Cave you avoided others, and politely regarded Joshua when he was nearby. you spent days doing nothing, sleeping in your bed or walking up and down the river.

it was as if merely talking about Caesar had taken the very spirit from you. and Joshua hated it. every day he awoke hoping that his prayers had been answered to find you back to your old self, but each day that passed he found himself losing faith in his God. if ghosts were real, then he was watching one walk around his camp that looked remarkably like you. Follows-Chalk had made several attempts at communicating with you, but nothing could get your mind off of the evil that was Caesar waiting for you back in the Mojave. how his assassins hadn’t made it here yet you didn’t know, and it made you overly paranoid. they could be watching, waiting in the shadows, seeing how far you could get before they grabbed you. you’d refused to leave the camp for anything that wasn’t immediately life or death business, and it was beginning to irritate the Dead Horses. if they got that annoyed with you, they could show you the way home and you’d never bother them again. but, there was still the problem of the White Legs to deal with before any of the inhabitants of Zion would show you the way home, so you had to deal with it soon. one day, amidst your paranoia, you awoke to loud, shouting voices coming from outside of Angel’s Cave. you didn’t decipher any of the speech clearly at first, then you heard your name being thrown around. darting out of bed, you grabbed your rifle, forgoing your trench coat or outdoor clothes, and burst out into the sunlight in your sleeping clothes. Follows-Chalk was stood against a group of Dead Horses members, attempting to placate them as they stared at you with anger in their eyes. Joshua was nowhere to be seen. your eyes scanned the river before you lowered your rifle. “what is all of this about?” you asked quietly, though you feared you knew anyway. “we can talk about this in a calm way–” Follows-Chalk began, but the voices rose against him faster than he could handle. you picked out a few words, and understood that they were complaining of your idleness in the recent weeks, and the threat of the White Legs you were meant to be aiding Joshua in eliminating. your lips pressed together in mild embarrassment, but you really could care less, because they had no idea who Caesar was and what he was going to do to you the moment this war was over. “send her to the White Legs if she’s so scared of them! we are ready to fight them, why won’t Joshua Graham make the move?” one woman yelled, anger distorting her features. the funny thing was that all of these women had braided your hair, taught you words and shared their food with you a handful of times before. now you were their worst enemy, save the White Legs. Follows-Chalk was doing his best, but you knew he was no match for angry women. the men stood further back, shooting you disapproving glares. they’d seen you as one of them many times, but now you were no better than a child. you put a hand on Follows-Chalk’s arm, and his worried eyes met your dead ones. you nodded and he stepped back, closing his mouth. you faced the group, eyeing up each one. “if you want to move against the White Legs, I will speak to Joshua Graham.” your words only did the bare minimum to quiet their anger. at the rise of more voices, you held up a hand. “do not forget that it has been me who has rescued one of your children, defeated dozens of your enemies and fought for all of you with my life many times over.” your voice was raised, built on a foundation of disbelief at their words. “I will finish this war, but not if you disrespect me any further. am I clear?” they all went silent, watching you. “am I clear?” you yelled, snapping. the women’s heads dropped and they moved back. the men bristled at your tone. “be ready to fight with your lives, if you can do that.” you looked at each one of them in the eyes, and felt every one of them staring into your soul. Follows-Chalk followed you quietly into Angel’s Cave as you sighed and held in a desperate scream of frustration. you barely remembered the last few weeks, it had been a big blur of nonsense. you’d finally realised how soon you were going to face Caesar and lose your life in the process, and yes, you had others depending on you, but they didn’t know half of what your life had been. “do you know where Joshua is?” you asked Follows-Chalk, as you unpacked your belongings in preparation for the fight of your life, which would soon be overshadowed by the fight you’d bring to Caesar. “he is making final preparations for the attack, or at least that is what he told me.” you nodded, smoothing your hair away from your face and sighing heavily. “thank you for trying to save my reputation back there,” you said, “it wasn’t worth it but at least they’ll fight alongside me now.” Follows-Chalk was at your side, a worried look on his sweet face. his hand rested on your shoulder. “what troubles you, Courier? you have been a ghost since...” Follows-Chalk didn’t finish his sentence because footsteps approached. your heads both swivelled to meet the owner, and it was Joshua. he seemed surprised to see you up and awake, organising your things nonetheless. “we can talk later.” Follows-Chalk eyes searched yours for any hint of a smile, and even though you faked one, it didn’t fool him. he’d grown to know much about you personally since meeting you, and that smile wasn’t like the ones he’d seen from you before. he walked away, feeling something uneasy about you. ••●••••●••••●•• you filled Joshua in on the near-uprising against you, and he agreed that a move against the White Legs was looking favourable. you both stood at his desk, moving around it as you mapped out the White Legs territory from several scout reports. Joshua didn’t mention your behaviour recently, he was just satisfied that his prayers had been answered at last, and content to be enjoying your company once again. you went back and forth all evening, hypothesising the best formations and plans. you briefly paused the debates to make dinner and start inventory of all the weapons available to the Dead Horses. there was a lot, the scouts had done well, and Joshua had tracked down some pre-War technology that had been made useful by tinkering and experimenting. the sun went down, and Joshua gave the order to be ready to move out at first light. you continued planning, poking holes in each other’s ideas, before you settled on one of Joshua’s plans. you liked it, it had the least chance of failure, and it would get you into the White Legs camp where you could do the most damage. the necessary Dead Horse members were informed of the plan, and you both tried to get some sleep. Joshua resorted to studying his holy book at some point in the night, and you had started to clean your rifle and organise your trench coat with its many pockets. neither of you spoke as you knew it would only serve as a temporary distraction from the real thing that would be upon you in a few hours. as the sky began to change with the rising sun, you both got changed and checked weapons one last time. you were attempting to braid your hair out of the way but it proved hard with a scattered mind. you gave up and let it sit behind your shoulders, sat on your old camping bed, when Joshua’s voice broke the silence of Angel’s Cave for the first time in hours. “may I...?” your eyes landed on him, and he was stood at the end of your bed, looking at your hair. you nodded and took off your hat, smoothing your hair down. he knelt behind you, taking your hair in three sections and beginning the braid. it was the simplest one, but it kept your hair out of your face. you sat there, staring at the walls of the cave and imagining your death. would a White Leg grab and slash your throat open? a stray bullet? an explosive? a brutal fist fight to the death? you didn’t even notice that Joshua was long finished the braid, and was still knelt behind you, just waiting. he was probably thinking, too. you turned around, facing him. the sight of him on his knees might’ve elicited a different reaction from you in a different life, but now it just made you sad. deeply and utterly sad. he looked up at you, and you looked down at him. “we’re losing time.” you said softly, feeling a strange knot in your throat. “we are.” Joshua watched as you stood up, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and leaving the cave. he stood, watching after you.

••●••••●••••●••

the atmosphere in the camp was different to that in the cave. where there’d been a sober silence broken only by a few meaningless words, out here there was a flurry of activity. shouts and chants rang out, splashing water, weapons colliding. last minute training and conversations went down at the same time, each Dead Horse member preparing in their own individual way to face the enemy. the elders and healers were blessing the warriors with marks and paint on their bare skin. some even began blessing the weapons held by the warriors, bathed in early morning light. you went to walk past the elders, who you assumed held dislike for you since your outburst yesterday, but one woman stopped you. she held out her hands, covered in paint, and you took off your hat, kneeling down for her. she was short and unassuming in appearance, but one look at her face told you that she’d seen more than you’d ever comprehend. her fingers danced over your face, making a mask of a warrior, and blessing you. she took your rifle from your hand and painted that too. a feeling of something you couldn’t quite explain went over you, like hands running through your hair, or a mother’s touch. suddenly, the old woman smiled, before turning away. she left you there feeling bewildered, strangely empowered, and ready to face the White Legs.

Joshua Graham had been watching the scene unfold from the entrance to Angel’s Cave. for some time now he had believed you to be a blessing sent by his God, or a divine being who he just happened to cross paths with. whatever you may end up being, he would spend the rest of his existence eternally grateful for you. the way you had accepted the Dead Horse tribe as your own, adhering to their customs and way of life so quickly. it may not have been your first port of call when you realised you were trapped here, but you soon realised what had to be done to survive, and Joshua could appreciate that.

he joined you by the river, taking the sight of you in before speaking.

“I see you have been blessed, by one of our oldest healers no less.” he could barely contain his urge to smile at you from beneath the bandages. you looked so proud for a moment, watching your reflection in the water. then you came back to reality. your brilliant eyes met his, and you looked away again.

“she does me a great honour, I can almost… feel her with me, or someone watching over me. maybe your God has time to watch over both of us today.” Joshua’s chest tightened when you spoke of his God.

“if He is willing, everyone here shall be watched over, and protected.” Joshua wanted to say more, but stopped himself. he could not let these feelings interfere with his mind right before battle. you were staring at the river water once again, then you spoke quietly.

“if He is indeed willing, we will live to wash in this river tomorrow. we all will.”

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua gave a short speech worthy of a war chief to the Dead Horses. those who would not be fighting would stay here, hidden in Angel’s Cave until either the return or retreat of the warriors and scouts of the Dead Horses. you stood there in silence, pushing the image of Caesar out of your mind and instead replacing it with that of the White Legs. they were your problem today, not some tyrant in the Mojave, which you had no feasible way of returning to yet. it hadn’t occurred to you that once this was over, you’d either be dead, kidnapped or alive and on your way home to the Strip to face Caesar. it felt horrible to admit, but you were starting to think which of the three options had the best outcome…

Joshua Graham was at the front of the crowd, leading the Dead Horses into battle. they gave off war cries and other unfamiliar sounds as you all waded up the river, but once out of the camp, silence fell like a blanket across each and every one of them. you were bringing up the rear, you and Joshua had agreed that it was best you stayed split up, for many reasons.  you recalled the conversation in question, one that had happened amongst the planning and strategising.

“and if one of us goes down?” you raised an eyebrow and Joshua leaned back in his chair.

“then we stay separate for the battle, as long as we can. should one of us fall, the other will assume command.” he offered up. that seemed satisfactory to you.

“alright, I’ll take the rear, you be up front.” you said, to which his eyes barely widened, but you still caught it. “what’s wrong with that?” you asked, leaning over the paper which detailed your plans and formations. Joshua watched you lean, and resisted the urge to touch your hair that was loose over your shoulder.

“I am simply surprised that you would volunteer to take the rear, that is all.” he replied, after taking his eyes off of you. he could watch you pour over battle plans and maps while sat on his desk until the day he died.

“well, you are the war chief. what good are you in the back?” you'd smiled at him before sketching in your position in charcoal on the paper. he’d watched you, imagining you on the battlefield the next day, victorious.

now, as you watched the Dead Horses march determinedly towards the White Legs camp, you wondered if Joshua had wanted you up front with him. would it have looked fiercer? more intimidating? perhaps, but your plans had been finalised last night, and this was not the time to go changing them. you instead counted your steps and watched the feet in front of you to distract you. so far the march had gone uninterrupted, but you had some distance before White Leg territory began. then you’d be in trouble.

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua Graham halted the march as you reached your destination. just past this trail was the last known White Leg camp, as reported by Dead Horse scouts days ago. this was it. you quickly worked your way up front to speak to Joshua. he seemed ready for battle, for war.

“Joshua, we haven’t seen a single White Leg, something isn’t right.” you whispered to him, mouth right next to his ear. he did not react to your worrying statement, but instead loaded his pistol. “Joshua, did you hear me?” you demanded, slinging your rifle down your shoulder.

“we cannot back down now, even if every single living White Leg is waiting for us in that camp. we fight here and now, God willing.” Joshua replied, not looking you in the eyes. you put a desperate hand on his arm. he went still.

“are you sure we can win this? if every single one of them is in there, armed to the teeth? with the high ground?” Joshua’s cold blue eyes finally met yours. his gaze felt entirely alien to you now.

“you aren’t abandoning the fight before it’s even began, are you, Courier?” you hold his gaze, but let go of his arm.

“I’d follow you almost anywhere, Joshua, but if this becomes a bloodbath, I beg of you… order them to retreat.” Joshua’s eyes slipped away from yours and down to his pistol.

“if this becomes a bloodbath, we won’t be on the wrong side.” with that, he raised his pistol in the air, rallying the Dead Horses. you ran back to the rear, shaking your head and sweeping sand from your hat. you loaded your rifle up, and followed Joshua Graham and his Dead Horses into the White Legs camp.

and it was a bloodbath. on both sides.

the second the White Legs realised what was happening, they had the jump on you. the Dead Horses fought hard and some, to the death, to advance into the main camp and start taking out the entirety of the White Legs tribe. you took out any sneaky attackers who attempted to cut you off from behind, but soon there were so many even you were struggling to drop them all with your rifle. close combat became the norm within minutes, and you were facing off against strong, bloodthirsty warriors with insane melee weapons. you couldn’t ever imagine the gangs in the Mojave fashioning these creations up, they lacked the imagination for one, and the sheer insanity for two. though many of the weapons you went up against seemed impractical, the White Legs wielded them with skill and ferocity that you hadn’t seen before. you started questioning if you were ever going to survive this. why didn’t Joshua hang back and think things through? why did he insist on charging in without knowing the odds? because he was Legion once, just like Caesar, and the arrogance of the Legion never truly leaves you. he is the Burned Man, of course he couldn’t wait to finish this war—

a loud boom, the earth shaking, you flying briefly then colliding with rock. hands on your throat, your rifle snatched from your arms. the White Legs had set off grenades, killing some of their own, but killing more of yours. coughing and sputtering against the warrior who had you by the neck, you kicked out, but they forced your legs apart and had you pinned hard against the canyon wall. it wasn’t a bad way to go, dying in battle, at least you died doing something worthwhile in this world. a clean shot entered and exited the warrior’s head, and you dropped to the sand. you didn’t have to look up to see who pulled that off, because he was already coming. he had you up on your feet, leaning on him, rifle back in hands. his voice was all around you, but you knew he was there, somewhere. you found your feet, standing up and letting go of him, and took aim.

one down. two, then three. Joshua snuck off, taking out more White Legs from behind. the Dead Horses were fighting bravely, taking on two or three White Legs at a time. you helped the best you could, dropping the odd White Leg warrior here and there. but soon you were spotted, and on the move again. knives in hand, you took as many White Leg melee fights as you could get. Joshua was still shooting somewhere across the camp, his shots evenly timed and most likely hitting their mark each time. Follows-Chalk spotted you across the camp, and made his way over, taking down White Legs as he went. for how soft he could be, he was downright lethal in battle. as he neared you, you realised with a start that he was covered from head to toe in blood. his markings were barely visible beneath.

“is the blood yours?!” you demanded, open-mouthed in shock.

“never mine!” he answered simply, moving you aside and clubbing a White Leg in the back of the head. a scream from somewhere made you freeze, and you saw a Dead Horse warrior die to a White Leg who wore a scary helmet and wielded a power fist. Follows-Chalk returned to your side, panting but still raging. “Salt-Upon-Wounds, the White Leg leader. you must kill him, without him they will die!” you were about to protest when a White Leg charged you, and took you to the ground. Follows-Chalk had him off of you in seconds, swinging his club with a war cry. you rolled out of the way, letting Follows-Chalk kill the White Leg, and took aim again with your rifle but Salt-Upon-Wounds was gone. he was just there. you scanned the battlefield with your scope, bloodshed was happening everywhere, but where was their leader?

“he’s gone! where is he?” you shouted to Follows-Chalk, but he was gone too. the ever-changing nature of battle meant you were now alone, again. you skirted around skirmishes and takedowns, reaching the spot where you’d first laid eyes upon this Salt man, but all he’d left behind was blood and death. the grisly sight of the Dead Horses falling on the battlefield hurt your soul. how would they ever carry out their after-death rituals if they lay abandoned on a cursed battlefield? you ducked reflexively as a machete narrowly missed your neck. one shot to the chest from below and your attacker fell, dead. your eyes scanned the camp again, raging with the sounds of war. you were sure that you’d never forget the sounds, even after returning to the chaos of the Strip.

an arrow whizzed past, just missing your face, you ducked down and ran, taking shelter behind a boulder. you aimed your rifle over the boulder, and spotted the archers hidden further in the camp, high up in the cliffs. that was why your warriors were falling so quickly, archers were picking them off! you steadied yourself and took aim again, within minutes all of the archers you could spot were dead, bodies hanging limp on the cliffs with single bullet holes in their heads. the Dead Horses began to fight back harder, now unburdened by arrows, and out for revenge for fallen brothers and sisters. you’d lost sight of Joshua a while ago, and Salt-Upon-Wounds had disappeared. you joined up with whichever Dead Horse you came across in battle, your kill count for the day reaching double digits. soon, the camp became a much smaller battlefield as the White Legs started backing themselves into corners.

you helped a Dead Horse member overpower a White Leg wielding a club, firing off another shot as another White Leg charged at you. they were getting desperate. they were beginning to fray. the Dead Horses were making a comeback, using the White Legs own weapons against them now. your eyes focused in on a flash of white becoming visible from the back of the camp, then your heart dropped into your feet. Joshua Graham was fighting Salt-Upon-Wounds, one-on-one, hand-to-hand.

••●••••●••••●••

you took aim, but the two were moving too wildly for you to confidently pull the trigger. you didn’t dare ask Joshua’s God for any more help, so you rallied the Dead Horses to you, and those who came were ready. you took them towards the back of the camp, flattening any White Legs that stood in your way. Salt-Upon-Wounds saw you approaching, and you went down to one knee, rifle aimed. Salt-Upon-Wounds held Joshua Graham by the neck, and God knows where his trusty pistols had gone. Joshua’s clear blue eyes bored into Salt-Upon-Wounds’s. your finger went to pull the trigger again, but Joshua was now in your sights, forced to stand before Salt-Upon-Wounds like a human shield. you lowered your rifle slowly.

“call off your warriors, or Joshua Graham dies!” Salt-Upon-Wounds announced, the battlefield stood still for the first time. you made a sound that told the Dead Horses to stand down, and they reluctantly did. “good girl. lower your weapons, all of you!” the remaining Dead Horses gathered around you did not move, instead they watched you. they were waiting for your move, and they would follow.

“do as I do, or we lose.” you whispered to them in their dialect, and it was passed around quickly. you threw your beloved rifle to the sand, and your knives, and the Dead Horses followed. they did not protest, they did it silently, they did it with you. for you. Salt-Upon-Wounds began walking towards you, still holding Joshua captive in his grip, a power fist on his free hand, already shiny with blood.

“you, outgirl, listen to me. I take Joshua Graham’s life, then the Dead Horses. then you will be for me, but not for kill.” Joshua’s eyes hardened but one look from you told him to not respond. his job was to focus on surviving Salt-Upon-Wounds right now.

“why not kill me?” you asked, lowering your hands and taking a step forwards. Salt-Upon-Wounds tightened his grip on Joshua. “do you know who I am, Salt-Upon-Wounds?” you let your hands rest on your belt. you could feel exactly what you needed.

“I see a outgirl who fights.” Salt-Upon-Wounds said after a moment, he was not big on talking, you realised.

“I am the Courier, I control the Strip in the Mojave and your leader, Caesar, wants me dead.” Salt-Upon-Wounds’s body tensed. “he is your leader, isn’t he?” Salt-Upon-Wounds threw Joshua to the sand, angry.

“Caesar… wants you. I give him you, and kill Joshua.” Salt-Upon-Wounds let Joshua’s shirt go, and raised the power fist. Joshua began to roll, you reached into your trusty belt, pulled out a small knife and launched it in Salt-Upon-Wounds’s direction. it landed in his face, he recoiled and stumbled backwards, yelling. you dove for Joshua, grabbing him and hauling him back towards the Dead Horses. the remaining White Legs watched in horror as Salt-Upon-Wounds was injured by an outsider. Follows-Chalk grabbed Joshua, but as you went to get up, you were dragged backwards.

you made fleeting eye contact with Follows-Chalk, then Joshua as you were flipped over by Salt-Upon-Wounds. the Dead Horses picked up their weapons as the remaining White Legs attacked. you saw the power fist coming, time slowed, Salt-Upon-Wounds pinned you down with his legs and yelled with pure rage as he brought the fist down. you reached up, twisting the small knife still embedded in his face. blood spurted out, showering you. you yanked the knife out, the shock gave you time to get it from under Salt-Upon-Wounds, but he was still bringing the power fist down.

you felt the dull heavy impact on your hand first. then the pain of your hand bones being shattered to pieces took over. your entire arm was throbbing from the impact. you were screaming but you couldn’t hear it. Salt-Upon-Wounds revelled in your pain, and raised the fist again. you clutched the small knife in the other hand, panting, tears forming in your eyes. he roared from above you, bringing the fist down in one big overhead swing. you whipped your good hand quick, and the knife flew. it skimmed the power fist and landed between Salt-Upon-Wounds’s eyes.

you were crying as Salt-Upon-Wounds’s stiff body went limp, the weight of the power fist dictating his fall. the power fist met the side of your head as you desperately tried to escape from under the now dead weight, and you were out cold.

••●••••●••••●••

Joshua stopped believing in his God right then and there. he was already up on one knee, but Follows-Chalk, fuelled by the fear of the power fist caving your face in, threw Salt-Upon-Wounds’s corpse off of you. the side of your face was open, blood pouring out. Follows-Chalk had his arms under you already, lifting you up and calling out for a healer. the surviving Dead Horses surrounded you, reaching out and touching your bare skin with their hands. a sign of respect, a collective hope that you would survive this gruesome injury and live to recount the battle around a campfire full of Dead Horse children, reunited with their families. Joshua’s mind was making his body move, but he had absolutely no awareness of it. it was as if someone else was taking charge of him physically as he worried about you.

Follows-Chalk sent any remaining Dead Horse scouts forward to call for the healers, the warriors remained with you, escorting those who had survived the battle back to the Dead Horse camp. Joshua walked in step with Follows-Chalk, eyes never leaving your body. he offered to take you from Follows-Chalk several times on the march home, but he refused, determined to get you home alive. healers came rushing up the river, war-torn bloodied scouts in tow. the old woman was there, stood in the river, a serious look on her face.

Follows-Chalk set you down in the river, holding you there so the old woman could examine you. she spoke harshly to her other healers in Dead Horse dialect, Joshua Graham listened but for the first time, he couldn’t translate the words in his head. the old woman bent down in the river, and her words seemed to move the water.

“the sky, the earth… we beg of you, as the blood of ours joins you, return her to us.” the other healers repeated the words, muttering under their breath, eyes closed. the old woman cupped her hands, pouring water over your open head wound. Joshua went to his knees watching the old healer work. the river welcomed him, he let it soak him through. Follows-Chalk also dropped to his knees gently in the river, copying the prayers of the healers.

soon, every Dead Horse member present was on their knees, praying and begging the land and sky to not take you from them. Joshua clasped his hands, rattling off one last prayer to his God. then, as the old woman’s worn hands touched your cold ones, a jolt of something went through you. all you really remembered was the hot blood streaming down your face, tainting your vision red. now you looked up and saw clear blue skies, white dancing clouds and felt the hold of the river all around you.

the old woman rejoiced as your eyes flickered open, everyone was relieved, thanking their ancestors’ spirits and the land and the sky for not taking you. mercy had been granted today, but it would likely not be granted again. Joshua slowly moved towards you, the river pulling him. he took you from the old healer’s hold, and sat you up out of the river. you looked around, surprised at being back in camp. hadn’t you just been facing Salt-Upon-Wounds...?

without another word, Joshua stood, carrying you up the river, and into the safety of Angel’s Cave. the healers did not use the same medicine that you were so used to in the Mojave, but Joshua was familiar with the basics. now that he had you alive, he intended to keep you that way. he carried you to his camp bed, carefully setting you down. he lit the campfire, taking off your wet clothes with as much dignity he could give you. he covered you in furs, then as your eyes danced in and out of consciousness, began stitching up the gash on your head. he knew it wouldn’t beat a surgeon’s steady hand and some anaesthetic, but it was better to close the wound rather than let it become infected.

he worked for hours, having to stop his hands from shaking each time you winced or moved your head away. he’d unravelled the bandages from his hands, leaving them exposed to the open air. he told himself that the constant tingle that soon felt like he was burning all over again, was nothing compared to this open wound on your head. you probably had one Hell of a headache too. he could really only pray that your brain had remained unscathed. he then carefully began to wrap your broken hand, though you had no real feeling down there and barely reacted.

Follows-Chalk, now clean of his enemies’ blood, came to see how you were getting on. Joshua had just about managed to finish the stitching to your head, if he ever forgot the sight of it, he’d be grateful. Follows-Chalk had the healers gather all of the herbs that could possibly help and brought them into the cave, Joshua had other ideas. he knew you’d found old world medicines in the Mojave, and often made more when out scouting for the Dead Horses. he told Follows-Chalk to search your bag, and he found the stash of Stimpacks.

Joshua hadn’t seen you use these in his presence. perhaps because you were trying not to invoke feelings of despair in him that no medicine would relieve his pain or mend his burns. Follows-Chalk, however, had seen you use these from time to time. admittedly, not often, but he knew how they worked.

“you push it into the skin,” he told Joshua, as you lay there, eyes closed and breathing shallow. “I think.” he added, absolving himself of any responsibility should this go wrong.

“I… I’ve seen this before, but rarely used them.” Joshua admitted. Follows-Chalk stared at the Stimpacks. another strange thing from beyond Zion.

“should we not use them?” Follows-Chalk asked, eyes lingering on your stitches.

“they’d help her…” Joshua began, when you opened your eyes and reached for the Stimpacks yourself. the two watched as you took one, jabbed it into your side, then removed it.

“done.” you sighed, handing it back to Follows-Chalk. “Follows, you’ve seen me use those before, don’t be scared of them.” you rolled onto your back and went to reach up to feel your stitches. Joshua’s hand caught your good hand and placed it back down to your side.

“I am no doctor, but we better leave those alone.” he said, thinking about how the stitches would turn out when they healed. if they healed. Follows-Chalk seemed to agree with the way he eyed up the stitches uneasily.

“there are no doctors left anymore anyway.” you mumbled, closing your eyes and rolling over to sleep. Joshua pulled the furs over you and stood up, clearing away his impromptu stitching kit. Follows-Chalk looked at you for a moment longer before standing, and approaching Joshua.

“Joshua Graham, I must ask you something.” Joshua paused, then turned to face Follows.

“what is it?” he asked, curious as to what Follows-Chalk could possibly have to ask him.

“when the Courier is recovered, I should be the one to take her back to the Mojave. do you think the same?” Follows-Chalk asked. Joshua was not expecting this question so he stalled for time by organising the medical inventory for a moment.

“I think that when the Courier leaves us, she should go alone once she reaches the Mojave.” Joshua said, giving Follows-Chalk a look. Follows-Chalk nodded, but in his head, he did not agree in the slightest. “she fell into our lives, and she has the right to walk back out as she arrived... alone.” Joshua knew he was lying to himself too, not just to Follows-Chalk. Joshua prayed for nothing more than to accompany you back to the Mojave and see how you live your life, but there was the not so small problem of the Legion, and your life did not have space for him… who knew who you had waiting for your safe return back on the Strip?

••●••••●••••●••

when you woke up, you had such a headache it made you sensitive to light and noise like some sort of mutated wasteland creature. Joshua had been asleep by the fire next to your camp bed, and when you sat up, holding your head, he came back to life. he brought you fresh water, handed you Stimpacks, ordered stacks of medicinal herbs from the healers. Follows-Chalk was in charge of the recovery of the fallen Dead Horses from the battle, so you didn’t see him for some time. you spent days in Angel’s Cave recovering, even then you weren’t sure you’d be fit to make the gruelling journey back to the Mojave anytime soon. your head hurt and your hand was still useless. Joshua felt both joy and despair at your predicament. he knew that you needed to get back to the Mojave soon, with Caesar and his Legion becoming an increasingly worrying problem, but when Joshua watched you sleep he saw your pained expression and knew you were in no fit state to travel. you barely moved your broken hand, he worried that it was beyond saving some days.

Follows-Chalk was surprised to see you still on the camp bed, huddled under the furs, stuck somewhere between heavy sleep and being consciously aware of the world. Joshua tried his hardest to get you to talk, drink water or even sit up, but each day you refused and fell back into a fitful sleep. it wasn’t until one night that Joshua finally found the strength to wake you. it had been a slow day, you’d tossed and turned and had bad dreams. the night was cold, cool. Joshua and Follows-Chalk took it in turns sitting with you, but you did not improve. Follows-Chalk left the cave to retrieve more bodies from the battlefield and transport them for proper burial with the other Dead Horse members, leaving Joshua on the night shift. at first, you were just whimpering in your sleep, Joshua had grown used to the sound, as much as it scared him. then you started to move. you jerked and shivered, the whimpering turned into incoherent words. Joshua shut his holy book and sat next to you, watching your face contort in your sleep. all of a sudden you were crying, repeating words over and over. Joshua couldn’t stand to watch, he reached out, a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t wake. something had you stuck deep in your mind.

after several unsuccessful attempts to rouse you from sleep, Joshua pulled the furs away, his hands on your arms. he turned you onto your back, repeating your name over and over. you didn’t come out of sleep. he started to wonder if it was a seizure, or if he was about to lose you. he didn’t stop trying to wake you, and after he shook you by the shoulders, your eyes flew open and you sat up, gasping. relieved you weren’t dead, Joshua’s hands fell from you and he said a prayer. you threw the furs from your legs and checked that this was real, that this wasn’t a dream that turned into a nightmare. you’d had so many these past few days, unable to escape them. they bombarded you each time you closed your eyes. your eyes landed on Joshua praying and you began to worry that this was yet another dream.

“Joshua, Joshua, is this real?” you grabbed him by the face, leaning right into him. his clear blue eyes met yours, and his hands settled onto yours.

“this is real.” he took your trembling hands into his bandaged ones and held them tight. “I am real, you are real, we are real, we are here.” he told you, and you moved off the bed to be closer to him. he was real, thank the Lord. you ran your hands over the bandages and let the feel of them bring you back to the present.

“we… are real.” you decided, nodding as your hands went back to his face. “you are real, I am real.” Joshua nodded back, and you let your hands trail to his neck, then around him. he let you do it, just happy to be there. you had him in your arms, and he felt real and you felt real and you were finally free of the endless cycle of nightmares. Joshua’s arms then encircled you and you melted into him. your eyes closed but you did not slip back into the land of nightmares and horrors. you stayed there with him, safe.

“are you okay?” he asked, not pulling away.

“if you’re here… I think I am.” you replied, after thinking for a moment. words seemed to elude you sometimes, but it felt even worse now, since the battle.

“I will stay here then, with you.” Joshua said quietly, and you sighed in relief. you both sat like that for a moment, until Joshua’s arms managed to lift you into his lap and have you tucked in his chest. you watched the roaring fire behind, letting it soothe you back to sleep. when Joshua felt you go heavy, he lifted you up back into the camp bed, but climbed in with you. he removed his heavy SWAT vest, and his boots. in just his trousers he held you there in the single camp bed, furs covering you both, and prayed that your mind would heal as well as your stitches had.

••●••••●••••●••

messyyythoughts © 2023 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout joshua graham #messyyythoughts #fallout new vegas honest hearts #zion #joshua graham #courier six #female courier #Female Courier x Joshua Graham #sands of zion #part four #fnv

[venusvity]

정윤아 … …  (  THE BURN OF THE SPOTLIGHT.  )

❝ Love is the most powerful thing on earth compared to fame and wealth. Because where there is love, there is peace of mind. ❞                         ―  Ojingiri Hannah

CHARACTERS :   JUNG YOONAH …   SUZUKI AKIKO  …   KANG JUWON  …   ADRIAN REYES  …  LEE ISEUL  

WORDS : 3K

WARNINGS / NOTES : Unfair working conditions. Panic Attacks. Paranoia. The whole piece essentially deals with Yoonah having a hard time readjusting to idol life. Cursing is also present. Please let me know if I missed something! This piece originally started as a "in a glance" blurb but I ended up breaking 3k on it so here we are! Not proofread btw! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

Yoonah is tired.

They've been filming all day for this music video that Yoonah doesn't even know if she likes anymore. She's heard this song two thousand times over and it's starting to scratch against her brain in a way that makes her want to curl in on herself.

She keeps looking at the door.

People have been coming in an out all day, that's how filming goes, she knows that, but she can't stop herself from staring at every face that appears when the door opens. The more time goes on, the more anxious she gets about that door and who will walk through it.

"Can you go again, Yoonah?" Iseul asks off set and behind the cameras but Yoonah knows she isn't asking. Yoonah has to go again. She has to film this scene again, and again, and again until she doesn't slip up on the footwork she created. She hates how off her game she is. It's the anxiety, she knows it is, but nothing she does seems to quell it.

Yoonah swallows with a nod, adjusting the top of her dress. She picked it out. She picked everything out now that she thinks about it. Her hair, her makeup, her outfit, her set, the song, it's all her's but even then she can't shake the dread that drips down from her brain and seeps deep into her bones.

"We're going to start from the pre-chorus, okay?" Iseul tells her, voice loud as it echoes off the walls of the set. The set resembles that of a house but with a large glass mosaic window that takes up the entire wall behind Yoonah. The mosaic is full of pink, purple, and yellow shards of glass and lit from behind so the colors bounce off Yoonah when she dances. Yoonah designed it herself. She thought it was cool to see come to life seven hours ago now it gives her a headache.

The backup dancers get into position around Yoonah as she tips her head from side to side, cracking the joints in her neck as she rolls her frail shoulders back. The door bursts open. Yoonah jumps with a gasp at the loudness of it bursting open, her heartbeat picking up for a moment before she sees that it's just Adrian with two bags in his hand.

That's right, she thinks, he went out to get us dinner. Her heart is still beating rapidly, her eyes jerking around the room before swallowing again with a deep breath.

"You got this, Yoonah!" Aki cheers from beside Iseul, smiling at her friend and giving her an encouraging thumbs up. Yoonah forces a smile at her, giving her a thumbs up in response before shaking her hands out. She gives Iseul a nod that she's ready, moving to the center of the room and putting her head down.

"And action!" With the director's call, her song begins to play. Yoonah doesn't think a lot when she dances––Well, she used to not think a lot when she danced. In recent times it's been hard for her to do anything without overthinking. She swears the voices in her head are so loud and the images so vivid, she can't see or hear what's around her.

She misses a turn, causing her to bump into a back up dancer. A sea of groans can be heard behind the camera as Yoonah stumbles away from the dancer, mumbling out an apology as her gaze stays on the wooden floorboards for a moment before looking up and seeing Iseul with her head in her hands, shaking her head slowly.

Yoonah looks away with a bite of her cheek, feeling her throat tighten but she shakes it off.

"Let's go again," Yoonah demands, quickly getting back in her spot and motioning the dancers to do the same with a twirl of her finger. There's a sudden wave of confidence and authority in her walk and in her voice, it makes the room perk up a bit.

"Take 5...Action!"

This time, Yoonah hits the first few beats without a problem. It takes everything in her to hear the music and not her own voice telling her she's in danger, to look over her shoulder, that he's right behind–

"Yoonah, you need to move your lips," Iseul barks, causing the music to cut off and for Yoonah to stop abruptly. "You're singing and dancing. You have to do both."

Yoonah nods, blinking quickly a few times when she feels her throat get tighter. She balls her fists up and releases them, long pink acrylic nails digging into her palms just enough for her to feel a slight twinge of pain.

"Yeah, yeah! Sorry," Yoonah trails off as she gets back in her spot, taking a deep breath again. "Sorry...Sorry. Let's run it again."

There's a small lull on the set that makes Yoonah feel uneasy, making her look at the door only to see that it's closed. She looks back on the ground, balling her fists up again when she feels her throat tighten up again this time making her bottom lip quiver. This is not the time, Yoonah tells herself as she breathes in and out deeply like her therapist told her to do in times like these.

Who would've thought the day would come where Yoonah listens to her therapist.

"Let's run it again!" Yoonah says more sternly, looking up at the crew like they're stupid for not listening to her the first time before looking down again, getting in starting position.

"Alright...Take five," She hears the familiar click of the clapperboard, "And action!"

Yoonah's head snaps up, putting on a new face as she begins singing the lyrics and executing her moves charismatically with a sharpness that was unique to her and her style.

"Kno-kno-kno-knock, knock," Yoonah sings, knowing the end of the take is coming and they can finally move on. They can get out of this set, move elsewhere, she can do new pieces of the choreography she worked so tirelessly on, it's one step closer to over.

Then she steps with her right foot instead of her left, making her turn the opposite direction than her dancers. To anyone else, it doesn't look like a mistake. She could play it off and it'd all be fine but she knows. Yoonah knows she messed up. She knows it's not right.

"Oh my god," Yoonah groans in frustration, covering her face with her hands as she aimlessly walks towards the back of the set. "Oh my fucking god." The tears come before she can stop them, making everything seem more dire than it already is.

Yoonah keeps her back towards everyone but hunches over, long black hair draping in front of her like a curtain. She can hear murmuring, voices that are familiar, but she doesn't turn around. She just needs a minute, is what she tells herself but she can feel the sobs beginning to blossom in her throat wanting to bloom out of her mouth but she won't let them.

She's holding her breath, eyes shut tightly, hands tightly holding onto her hair by the root as if that would ground her. It feels like nothing grounds her these days. These days feel like years. She can't stand it.

"Yoonah?" Aki whispers, appearing beside her. Aki can ground her somewhat but not enough to stop the inevitable breakdown that's coming. Yoonah takes a deep breath, looking at her friend with a sniffle, shaking her head quickly.

"Everyone is looking, aren't they?" Yoonah whispers, blindly reaching for Aki's arm to hold onto. Aki looks behind them then at her, shaking her head even if the reality is that everyone is looking at her.

"No. No one's looking. It's okay," Aki whispers, holding tightly onto Yoonah's arm. "Do you need a break? Why don't you take a break?"

Yoonah shakes her head.

"No, I don't want a break. I want to go home," Yoonah whimpers, shutting her eyes tightly as the mention of home brings out a sob from her. "I want to go home. I want to see my mom."

"Yoon–"

"I–I need to see my mom," Yoonah calls, turning towards the crew who all look at Iseul. Iseul sighs, standing from her chair and motioning towards Adrian to come along. He follows slowly, knowing how bad Yoonah's meltdowns can get. She's had a handful of them in the studio with him before this. He's helped her through them but it's not his favorite thing to do.

Yoonah sniffles.

"I want to see my mom," Yoonah tells Iseul again when she's close enough, "I need–I need to see my mom. I need to go home."

"Yoonah, you can't go home. You have to finish doing your job," Iseul says a bit too coldly for Adrian or Aki's liking, causing both of them to shoot her a warning glare. Yoonah looks distraught at the woman's words, shaking her head with a pathetic whimper. She wipes under her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I can finish tomorrow–"

"Yoonah, listen to me," Iseul says, using a calmer voice as she takes the girl's forearms into her hands, turning her to face her fully. "We can't do tomorrow. It's tonight and tonight only. I can't pay for another night of filming. Do you know how far that'll set us behind?"

"I'll pay for it," Yoonah whimpers with a shaky breath as she looks at the door again then at Iseul, holding onto her forearms to somewhat calm herself down. She can feel herself breathing heavier again like she's been running. "I'll–I'll pay for it, Iseul. I need my mom right now or I'm going to fucking freak out."

Iseul shakes her head as Yoonah talks, shutting her down before the words can even get out which only makes Yoonah panic more. She looks at Aki then Adrian then back at Iseul, shaking her head at all of them.

"I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

"Come on, Yoonah."

"Just push through another hour and it'll be over."

All their voices mesh into one loud harmonization that makes Yoonah's ears hurt. She squeezes her eyes shut, ripping her arms away from Iseul with a loud whine, shaking her head quickly and moving into the corner of the set to be alone just for a minute.

Yoonah slides down the wall, knees to her chest, dropping her head onto her knees to consume herself in total darkness for just a minute. It brings her little comfort but at least some. A loud sob leaves her body, muffled by her legs but she hears someone walk over.

"Yoonah," It's Aki. "I know–"

"Can you get Juwon?" Yoonah asks, lifting her head and wiping her eyes quickly. Aki looks at her like she just spoke Latin, blinking a few times but Yoonah is unphased. "I need Juwon here. I–I can't do this without him here." That's half true she supposes. Aki gives her a look over before sighing through her nose, nodding at the request.

"I'll call him."

Juwon is always reliable. He's by Yoonah's side in 23 minutes flat. Yoonah doesn't know why he's the only one she can bring herself to talk to about the emotions inside of her.

"And every time I look at that door, I just–I swear he's going to walk through it and I'm so fucking scared and-and it's distracting me and I can't do the fucking moves right–"

"Shh, shh," Juwon coos, running his fingers through Yoonah's silky hair before bringing her head to his chest. "He's not walking through that door, Yoonah. I promise you he's not."

Deep down, Yoonah knows that. She knows of all the places Jinhwa could get to her, it's not here. Despite the fear being irrational, it doesn't stop it from consuming her.

"I know. I know but it's so scary. I can't focus," Yoonah whispers, wrapping her arms around Juwon with a deep shaky breath. Juwon's calloused hands rub up and down Yoonah's back, nodding slowly. "And I just want to go home and see my mom. I miss my mom." She's sobbing again, pressing her face into Juwon's chest, ensuring that her makeup gets messed up. She hopes maybe that is enough for Iseul to call it.

For a moment, Juwon lets Yoonah just sit there and cry into his chest. He's found that sometimes, that's all she needs. She just needs to scream or cry to get it out of her system.

After the three minute mark passes and she's still crying, he pushes her back softly. Yoonah keeps her eyes shut to avoid Juwon's intense gaze, balling her fists up again with a quiet wince when she feels the skin of her palms finally split beneath her nails.

"Let's call your mom, yeah?" Juwon whispers in a calming tone, causing Yoonah to slowly nod and open her eyes. She sniffles up at him as he wipes under her eyes with his thumb before pulling out his phone and handing it to her. Yoonah catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection of his screen before she's met with his lockscreen. It's a picture of her from a few months back when they went to dinner for the first time during her recovery.

Yoonah smiles softly at how happy she looks in that picture.

She types in his passcode before dialing her mom's number. She knows he has it saved but Yoonah has had her mom's phone number memorized since she was eight, it's just a force of habit to dial it at this point.

"Hello? Juwon? Is Yoonah okay?" Her mother answers the phone without so much as a second ring. Yoonah sniffles at her worries, whimpering quietly as she runs a hand through her hair.

"Mama," Yoonah whispers, putting her hand on her head with a thick swallow. "I miss you." Is all Yoonah can tell her before a sob leaves her lips, covering her eyes with one hand.

"Oh Yoonah, I miss you too," Her mom tells her in her usual comforting voice. She swears she can hear her smiling because of how her voice lilts. "Are you still working?"

"They won't let me go home," Yoonah tells her, "I've been here all day and I-I cant get this take right. It's driving me crazy, mama. I want to go home."

"Did you ask Iseul?"

"Yes. She said I can't go because–because she paid for a full day and it would set us back if we filmed tomorrow."

Yoonah's mom hums, unimpressed.

"Ah...I see," There's a lull that makes her mom sigh through her nose, "There are a lot eyes on you right now, flower. They want you to fail. You can't let them be right."

Yoonah presses her palm against her aching forehead with a loud whimper. She knows she's right. Yoonah has so much to prove right now. She's supposed to be the face of her group, the most adored idol in South Korea, her comeback is predicted to be one of the most successful of the year. She can't fumble this, there's no time for her to lie down and give up.

"I know. I know...I'm just tired and, um, anxious. I'm, like, freaking out, mom."

"You've been tired before. What did you do then?"

Yoonah takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before her eyes look down at the ground, swallowing thickly.

"I kept going," Yoonah whispers.

"Yes, you did!" Her mom says, her voice getting higher with enthusiasm. Yoonah can't help but to smile softly, wiping under her eyes as she leans against the wall. "You just keep going. You always keep going because we raised you to be strong, right?"

Yoonah nods, "Yeah. You did."

Her mother hums.

"So, what are you going to do after we hang up?"

"I'm going to keep going," Yoonah mumbles, "then I'm going to go to your house and have dad's cabbage stew," Yoonah adds to make herself feel better, smiling genuinely for the first time in hours. Her mom laughs.

"Of course, you will!" She laughs that makes Yoonah laugh softly, wiping her cheeks again with the back of her hand. She pushes herself up to stand, Juwon helping her up by her arm and putting an arm around her waist to support her.

"I love you very much, Yoonah," Her mom tells her in a voice that immediately clams any remaining nerves in Yoonah, "I'll see you soon, okay? Make me proud."

Yoonah clears her throat with nod.

"I will, mama. 'Love you."

"Love you too."

Yoonah hangs up with a sniffle, handing the phone back to Juwon with a deep breath. She rolls her shoulders back as she walks out of Juwon's hold, wiping under her eyes again as she gets back to the center of the set.

Her eyes look around at the crew and her friends. She motions to her messed up eye makeup, raising her brows.

"Can I get makeup over here?" She calls. Instantly a gaggle of makeup artists rushes over to her, touching up her makeup with q-tips and sponges. Yoonah looks at Iseul, nodding her head at her.

"Can we run it again?"

#╰ * VENUS : scenarios ⧽ burn it to the ground . #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #idolverse #oc girl group #bts addition #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #stray kids addition

[david-watts]

I wanna off myself again I hate this

#this isn't to even get into how dysphoric I'm feeling which is awful #but I'm angry again because the coat that I got from my grandpa is really nice and something I can wear without feeling shit about myself #like it's both gender and also goes with a lot of my things #'I'm going to give it away to someone who doesn't have a coat' #last time you fucking gave something away because 'you already have that sorta thing you won't miss it' she did not give it #to someone in need #and she doesn't even remember that because it was like a random thursday to her but devastating to me and my m*ther #partly because she violated our space #I'm having an awful time trying to stay on top of my paranoia in the first place #but having to deal with the paranoia she's going to burst into here and take my things again and she's gonna do it with my other stuff #and I can't have that all in one place so I can't easily keep track of things #I wore it on the weekend for crying out loud it's not like I don;t use it! #it's got things in the pockets and on the lapels and all which I don't think she'd remove which is awful too #I like being able to sleep and being able to leave the house and this is going to stop me from being able to #just because I happen to now have. goddamn options. when it comes to outerwear. not something I'm used to #and I feel bad about this like I'm being selfish. but. it's my things right.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Kilgharrah: “Kill that child, Merlin.”

Merlin (like a normal person): “No?? What the fuck???”

And with that, everything changed.

Part 2   Part 3(final part)

“You must let the boy die.”

Kilgharrah’s voice echoed incessantly through Merlin’s head for days after the Druid boy’s appearance, and subsequent disappearance. 

Merlin had, of course, ignored the scaly old bastard, and hadn’t once questioned if he’d done the right thing by hiding Mordred away in his tiny bedroom.

If the boy truly had such a terrible destiny, then the best thing for Merlin to do was to keep him close, if not to steer him away from his fate, then to at least be able to see it coming if it was indeed inevitable.

Currently, Morgana was the only one aware that Mordred was still here (other than Gaius of course, who was somehow disapproving and proud at the same time). As far as everyone else was concerned, Arthur and Uther included, the boy was never found, and must have slipped out of the city somehow (going by the extra patrols in the woods, as opposed to the castle and town).

The Warlock was nervous about anyone knowing at first, but when Morgana had tearfully thanked him for saving Mordred, and proceeded to sneak in spare blankets, food, and money for clothes, Merlin was glad for the co-conspirator.

The boy was currently curled up in the corner of Merlin’s room, a pile of blankets and pillows organised like a bird’s nest around him, wearing a soft shirt and sleeping the night away.

Merlin watched him from his bed, realising with growing horror just how protective of Mordred he had already become. He was so young. How could Merlin even consider punishing a child for some stupid destiny he didn’t even know about?

He had to think of a solution quickly. He couldn’t risk sending him away, not even to the Druids, they were as much slaves to the so-called prophecies as Kilgharrah was, and Merlin had once been (”Gods. Sounds like I’ve been dealing with destiny for years. It’s been like six months. I’m too young for this shit.”). But equally... what could he do with him??

Thankfully, no one had really gotten a good look at the boy, so hopefully with a change of clothes and a haircut, he wouldn’t be recognised, at least not if Merlin came up with a convincing enough story.

To be honest... the cover story worried him far more than the prospect of someone recognising him. Uther hadn’t recognised Nimueh, the woman who had been his court sorceress for years... the man was apparently not very observant.

In the end, it was a throwaway comment by Morgana a few days later, about a week after the Druid boy had “escaped” that gave Merlin a very stupid idea. So stupid, that it might just work.

~

Morgana had once again snuck away from the main castle to sit with Merlin and Mordred in the servant’s room. 

Gaius had said nothing as she’d entered the Physician’s chambers, enough food for four hidden away in the picnic basket she carried, just raised his eyebrow slightly, and thanked The Lady for the food offering that was definitely-not-a-bribe.

She gave him a quick wink, and the old physician rolled his eyes fondly as he set an overturned bucket in front of the door; if anyone came in, they would come in loudly.

Mordred was happy to see her, and Merlin hid a fond smile at the boy’s quiet giggles. He still didn’t speak much, so it was a relief to see him finding joy in something, even if it was clandestine visits from Uther’s ward.

She ruffled his hair slightly, resisting the urge to pull the touch averse boy into a tight hug, and set the basket on the bed. Merlin sat against the pillows, and Morgana sat down opposite him, the basket in between them as Mordred clambered up to sit just in front of Merlin.

Morgana and Merlin talked quietly as they ate, Mordred staying silent as the adults (or...as adult as they could get. Like Merlin kept thinking to himself, he was too young for this shit at sixteen, and Morgana was only two years older than him) avoided the elephant in the room.

The elephant being that they couldn’t keep this up forever. Arthur had a habit of bursting in whenever he so pleased, and it was a miracle he hadn’t done so already. Plus, it would be cruel to expect Mordred to stay cooped up in here for much longer. He was a child, he deserved to play outside and explore and do all the other things he couldn’t do in Merlin’s bedroom.

Once they finished eating, Mordred moved to his makeshift bed in the corner, tightly clutching a book that Morgana had bought him, and furrowing his brows in concentration as he read.

Morgana stared at him with a soft smile, and Merlin sighed, once again worrying about his new ward’s future.

Morgana tilts her head, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, and looks slowly between Merlin and Mordred as the servant raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You know Merlin, the two of you look remarkably similar.”

Mordred is engrossed in his book, and doesn’t react at all to Morgana’s quiet comment, but Merlin’s eyebrow goes even higher as he huffs out a laugh:

“You think? I don’t see it.”

Morgana looks at him with a deadpan expression:

“Merlin, you don’t have a mirror in here. I’m fairly certain you have no concept of what you look like.-”

Merlin looks indignantly offended for all of two seconds before he sighs and nods, she’s right to be fair. He’s tall-ish, with pale skin, and he thinks he has brown hair. That’s about all he knows.

Morgana chuckles as she once again looks at Mordred:

“You both have very dark hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin. You know...-”

She looks back at him with a thoughtful frown on her face:

“-if someone told me you were brothers... I’d believe it.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow:

“Really?”

She nods decisively:

“Yeah. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I look between you, yes. You could definitely be related.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, thinking. He takes in a deep breath and tilts his head slightly:

“It could work. I haven’t really talked to anyone about my family so... we could say that... he came to live with me? Because life here is... good?”

Morgana snorts slightly, rolling her eyes before looking back at him seriously:

“You’d have to be more convincing than that. You could say that the harvest was poor in your village? That Mordred was better off coming to stay with his big brother in the big city?”

Merlin nods at her words, grimacing slightly as he mutters:

“If we’re running with the whole... brother thing, I need to write a letter to my mum, just in case. Gods she’s going to laugh so much.”

Morgana laughs at him quietly, but the noise finally catches Mordred’s attention and he looks up in confusion. Merlin moves the basket to the floor, and gestures to the boy to come over.

He walks over wordlessly, climbing up to kneel between them, biting his lip nervously.

“Is it time for me to leave, Emrys?” echoes through Merlin’s head, and he gives the boy a comforting smile, shaking his head slightly, before saying out loud:

“You’re staying with me, Mordred-”

The boy smiles slightly as he stares at Merlin in reverence, and Morgana quickly hides her questioning gaze. She could see that there was more between them than simple protectiveness over a child, and thankfulness for being saved, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Merlin continued:

“-but we can’t keep you hidden in here forever, so we’re going to tell people that you’re my younger brother, come to live with me. Is that alright?”

Mordred nods his head vigorously, and Merlin chuckles slightly as the boy’s grin grew:

“Ok. We’ll get you a haircut and tell Gaius the plan. Probably wait a few more days for things to settle down further, and then see how it goes, ok?”

Mordred nods once more, smile not leaving his face. Morgana bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Merlin’s shocked face when the boy threw himself into the servant’s arms for a tight hug.

~

Merlin spends the next few days teaching Mordred all about Ealdor and his mother and Will, so that the boy could have at least a little knowledge on what was supposedly his home and family.

The next time Morgana came to visit, she brought a comb and a sharp pair of scissors, as well as a few more changes of clothes that looked less... Druid. By the time she left that evening, Mordred had much shorter hair, and a wide grin on his face at the prospect of finally being able to go outside (he was Druid after all, he needed trees and fresh air).

The letter had been sent home, and Merlin was expecting a reply any day now. The only thing left to worry about was how to hide Mordred’s Druid marking. It would be easy to cover with clothes, but Uther’s increasing paranoia meant that it would be best if they could find a more permanent solution.

Gaius suggested some sort of glamour spell fairly quickly, but Merlin was unwilling to cast one on the boy until he’d mastered it.

And THAT meant showing up to serve Arthur with ink all over his hands that he had tried and failed to cover.

Merlin had also realised with dawning horror, that he would have to tell Morgana the truth. She knew about the marking, and she was smart, there was no way that hiding it wasn’t something that had occurred to her. She would bring it up eventually, and how could Merlin explain without having to... explain??

Morgana was already risking her favour with the King, and frankly, her life, by protecting a Druid... she would do the same for Merlin, right? But Mordred hadn’t actually done any magic... BUT she’d always spoken against executions... BUT Merlin had lied and hidden it from her, his friend...

Hmm...

In the end, he’d decided he would just have to suck it up, and tell her. Fuck whatever that dragon said. After Kilgharrah’s last round of... advice, Merlin had been ignoring his calls. If there was an emergency, the cryptic bastard would tell him, and until then he could just sulk in that cave on his own.

That two weeks was also enough for Uther to become convinced that the mysterious Druid boy really was long gone, and to just forget about it. He was pissed of course, but talking about it and extending the search just highlighted that a child, barely eleven summers, had managed to evade all of his forces and that... did not cast him in a good light.

It took Merlin about two weeks to fully master the spell, which was longer than the three of them were hoping, but he was adamant that he perfect it before he cast it on Mordred, and Gaius was incredibly impressed at his ward’s determination.

Morgana was of course confused about why they kept pushing it back, she thought they were only going to wait a few days before they started introducing Mordred, but she trusted Merlin and saw no harm in waiting a little longer.

When Morgana arrived that evening, she could tell that Merlin was... anxious. They’d agreed on a specific day to make introductions but it wasn’t until the end of this week, it didn’t make any sense for Merlin to suddenly be nervous about it.

Mordred wasn’t quite as good at hiding his emotions, and didn’t even giggle like he normally did when Morgana came over, just stared at his “brother” anxiously.

Morgana rolled her eyes and huffed as she shut the door:

“Alright, Merlin. What is it? Spit it out.”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to come out with an excuse, before he snapped it shut again and took a deep breath.

It worried him, how easy, how automatic it was for him to lie, but that was a worry for another time.

Mordred reached up and took his hand, squeezing it, and Merlin looked down at him with a weak smile before sitting on the bed and gesturing that Morgana join him.

She looked at him worriedly, but settles where he gestures, and doesn’t acknowledge the way Mordred sits defensively between them.

The boy looks back at Merlin:

“Are you sure, Emrys?”

Merlin gives him another smile, and squeezes his shoulder slightly as he raises an eyebrow:

“I’m sure. And you need to get used to calling me Merlin at some point.”

Mordred pouts slightly, and Merlin ruffles his hair as he laughs, before looking back up at Morgana’s questioning stare.

He takes another deep breath, before slowly speaking:

“I... we’ve found a way to properly hide Mordred’s marking.”

Morgana looks taken aback, but relieved:

“Oh. Is that all? That’s good isn’t it? I have to admit, it was worrying me.”

Merlin gulps:

“Yeah it... it is good... it’s just, it involves... magic.”

Morgana raises her eyebrow, and nods slowly, as if it were obvious:

“I figured it would be. It’s not like it would be easy or reliable to cover it with make-up every morning, or hide it with clothes.-”

It’s Merlin’s turn to look taken aback now, and Mordred fixes her with an unreadable expression. Morgana continues:

“-The problem, lies in finding someone willing to do whatever spell it is. Someone we could trust wouldn’t share the secret, no matter what.”

Merlin grimaces slightly, more gulping, and taking yet another deep breath:

“We already have someone. Me.”

Morgana gasps slightly, and she’s vaguely aware of the brothers in front of her tensing up, but all she can focus on is the gold of Merlin’s irises.

The gold fades, and Merlin clears his throat, breaking her out of her stupor. She reaches over and punches Merlin harshly on the arm before getting up and beginning to pace, speechless.

Merlin and Mordred panic at first, but when she makes no moves towards the door in her pacing, they relax. That only lasts for a moment or two however, before she looks back to Merlin, furious:

“Are you thick Merlin? Why on earth would you learn magic in Camelot of all places?? Do you have a death wish!?”

Merlin laughs slightly, cheeks turning pink as he rubs the back of his neck:

“Actually uh... I was born with magic; I’ve always had it. My mother sent me here because she thought I would learn to control it better.”

Morgana looks incredulous as she continues to rant:

“What? With the fear of execution hanging over your head?! That’s not control, that’s terror.”

Merlin shrugs:

“It works though. My magic is mostly instinctual, the threat of torture by pyre sure as hell stops me from losing control when I’m angry or scared or whatever...”

Morgana huffs, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare. Both Merlin and Mordred cower slightly as they are reminded of angry and disproving mothers; as if they were about to be scolded for getting their clothes dirty, or ruining their dinner with too many snacks.

She just stares at him for a minute, before she sags slightly, and begins chuckling at the boys’ fearful faces:

“You are ridiculous. But it’s far too late to persuade you to leave now. Does Arthur know?”

Merlin’s face morphs into a mournful frown, as he looks to the floor and mumbles:

“No. I wish I could tell him but... with Uther...”

Morgana sighs, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“Uther won’t be here forever. We’ll just have to keep Arthur from turning into too much of a prat before he becomes King.-”

Merlin laughs at that, and looks up to give the woman a grateful smile. She returns his smile before continuing:

“-So, you can do the spell?”

Merlin winces slightly and gestures for Mordred to pull the collar of his shirt down, to reveal a blank patch of skin:

“I’ve actually already done it. It’ll stay there permanently until I take it off. Though we should keep checking, just in case.”

Morgana looks surprised, and smiles:

“What’s the problem then?-”

She rolls her eyes when Merlin looks at her incredulously:

“-Oh, come on Merlin. I’m not going to turn you in, you’re safe with me. You both are, and you always will be.”

The servant jumps up to give her a tight hug, which she quickly returns as Mordred nervously joins in. Morgana smiles to herself, and squeezes her boys tighter.

She may love Uther and Arthur, and she knew they loved her back, in their own way, but this? This was family.

~

The time finally came for Merlin to introduce his baby brother. Hunith had supposedly dropped him off late last night and left immediately, having to get back home quickly. 

Morgana had gone to gather Gwen and Arthur whilst Merlin and Mordred waited in their room (it was definitely their room now, instead of just Merlin’s).

It was early in the morning, and to say that Arthur was grumpy at being woken by Morgana instead of Merlin, was an understatement.

But he eventually caved, and dressed himself as he grumbled, allowing Morgana to drag him to meet Gwen (who was equally confused) before the three of them made their way to the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius was suspiciously absent, and Morgana knocked on Merlin’s door, before slowly opening it and walking in, Arthur and Gwen following her quickly.

Gwen was surprised at the sight of Merlin stood behind a child, hands protectively on his shoulders, but smiled and gave Mordred a soft wave in greeting.

Arthur however, froze, and stared at the boy with a shocked expression.

Morgana moved to stand next to Mordred, and took one of his hands as Merlin began to speak:

“Gwen, Arthur, I want you to meet my baby brother, Mordred. He’s come to live with me.”

Gwen waved again, and bent over to Mordred’s height:

“Hi Mordred, I’m Guinevere, but all my friends call me Gwen. I didn’t know that Merlin had a brother, but it’s lovely to meet you.”

Mordred gave her a small smile, and Merlin suppressed a chuckle as-

“I like her, Em- Merlin.”

-echoed through his head.

Arthur’s gaze moved away from Mordred finally, up to Merlin.

Merlin stared back at him blankly, but Arthur saw the way his jaw clenched as he moved a protective hand down, to pull Mordred closer to him.

The Prince let out a deep sigh, growling slightly as Gwen looked at him in confusion, and Morgana and Merlin stared at him challengingly.

He shook his head as his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands before looking back to Mordred with a strained smile:

“It’s nice to meet you, Mordred. My name’s Arthur.”

With that, Morgana smirks slightly, and Merlin relaxes. Gwen just rolls her eyes:

“Sorry about him Mordred, he doesn’t spend much time around people your age.”

Mordred gives her another smile, and Merlin glances to Gwen, before looking down at Mordred:

“Why don’t you go with Morgana and Gwen to see the city a little? Me and Arthur need to talk, I’ll catch up with you later, ok?”

Mordred turns around quickly, and grabs Merlin’s hand tightly:

“You promise??”

Gwen holds in an “awww” and Morgana hides her smile. Mordred rarely talks aloud (she’d been told of the mental link), but she’s glad to see he was feeling at least a little more comfortable.

Merlin crouches down, and pulls the boy into a tight hug, stroking his hair slightly as he stares straight at Arthur:

“I promise. I’ll never leave you for long Mordred.”

Arthur gulps at Merlin’s hard stare, but gives him an almost imperceptible nod, which Merlin returns as he stands up. Mordred gives him one more look as he takes one of Morgana’s hands, and one of Gwen’s, and follows them out of the room.

Morgana shuts the door quietly, and Arthur sighs again before looking at Merlin:

“What are you thinking Merlin?? You just thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Merlin crosses his arms, his glare still hard:

“No, I knew you would notice, I just had faith that you’re a better man than your father.”

Arthur is still deep in his “my father can do no wrong” faze, and takes great offense at that, taking a threatening step forward and growling:

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin just huffs and raises an eyebrow slightly:

“I had assumed that you were not the type of man to have a child executed, just for existing.-”

Merlin copies Arthur’s step forward, raising his chin and continuing, his voice low and dangerous:

“-Did I assume correctly? Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that kid, Arthur. Nothing.”

Arthur stares at him incredulously, only managing to hold Merlin’s surprisingly confident stare for a few moments, before nodding and stepping back:

“Of course. He’s a child, Merlin, I won’t see him hurt, if I can help it.”

Merlin nods slowly, not looking away from Arthur as he softly says:

“I’ll hold you to that.-”

He walks around The Prince, opening the door and stepping halfway through before looking over his shoulder, and quietly saying to a confused Arthur:

“-If you truly believed that all magic is evil, and always corrupted, no matter what, then you wouldn’t care that he’s a child; you’d want him dead anyway. So perhaps think about your... prejudices, a little more deeply, maybe you’ll discover you are different to Uther in other ways as well.”

Before Arthur can even really process what Merlin said, the servant is shutting the door behind him, and rushing off to find his new brother.

~

OK SO!!! 

I really LOVED writing this, there will definitely be more parts, I just figured I should end it here before I got carried away

This series is finished!! (Links at the top <3 )

#bbc merlin #merthur #good morgana #prince arthur #eventual merthur #part one #morgana #guinevere #gwen #merlin/morgana friendship #child mordred #good mordred #mordred #uther #uther is a dick #the beginning of the end #bamf merlin #merlin is a top in this and arthur is forcefully made aware #bbc mordred #merlin adopts mordred #merlin accidentally-on-purpose becomes a brother/dad?? #arthur #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #king uther #magic reveal #morgana knows about merlins magic #kilgharrah #kilgharrah is a dick #FUCK destiny

[alixdelcourt]

Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours

Pairing Katsuki Bakugou x female reader x Eijirou Kirishima

Genre : angst to fluff and comfort at the end.

WC and warnings : 1.5 k / Polyrelationship, Angst, feeling down, abandon, injury, mention of hospital and sedative. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or sensitive, you'll just get hurt. Please be careful.

Note : Hey everyone, I am back ! I am sorry, I wasn't on hiatus so I didn't warned you, I was just sick and trying to recover. And now that I am totally healed, I promise that I'll catch all your requests up quickly ! Today's work is @d3nk1x's request. I am sorry it took my like forever to achieve it, really sorry. I hope that you’ll like it, please let me know, and feel free to ask anything else. I kinda like your requests :)

Requests are still open, and since my college year is over, I am totally free to write whenever I want. And I am bored a bit, so please send many requests if you want, I will be happy to oblige !

The heart has its reasons which Reason knows nothing of… What was sure is that you loved them, from the bottom of your heart. But it wasn’t enough for you to be completely at ease with the relationship that you, Eijirou and Katsuki are entertaining. Well, such relations aren’t usual and you prefer to keep it for you. What would it be if people, even your friends, discover this part of your intimacy and feel free to criticize, or worse to judge you and to deprecate it… Would your ‘couple’ survive all of this ? You prefer not to take the risk. A happy life is a discreet one.

But, your significant others are not on the same page. Like, for the boys, you’re all adults and old enough to make your own choices. You chose them, you brought them together, so why couldn’t you assume this decision ? Why three people in love would be so odd ? This subject was the only point of contention for you, that comes up more and more often. Like tonight.

The three of you were in Katsuki’s room, for the usual nightly cuddles. To have some affection before going to sleep, each one in his own dorm room. For the other students not to notice, Eijirou is the first to leave, and after a couple of minutes, you follow him. But tonight, the guys made a big deal out of it. You argue, explaining again for like the thousandth time your position.

“I just… I just don’t feel comfortable with people knowing that I am in love with two guys. Maybe it’s okay for you to share the same girlfriend, but this isn’t was girls do.”

“And who cares about other girls ? They just don't know what they are missing !”

Eijirou winked at you, trying to make you laugh and give it all up as a joke, but you weren’t laughing. He sighed, and let your mutual boyfriend try. And he did. Like Katsuki really tried. He took your hand, and made you look at his crimson stare.

“Please, Y/n. Let us love you in full view of everyone. I am tired, we’re both tired of paying attention to our reactions around you. We just want to give you all the attention you deserve and the love you generate at any time, not bottling it up or botch it between two training sessions. I don’t want to hide anymore, because this means we’re doing something wrong. And we’re not. So please.”

He’s meaning what he’s saying, and you know it. Katsuki Bakugou ain’t one to beg, for anything. But even if this was the sweetest and the most romantic thing he has ever told you, you can’t overcome your fear. Which deeply hurt the boys in front of you. The ash blond haired released your hand.

“Maybe other ones opinions matter more to you than ours”

Usually, when he’s this rude, Eijirou stands up for you, but today he’s way too hurt and he agrees with Katsuki. Too many words jostle on your tongue, but none were sufficient for you to express how you’re feeling. With obvious teary eyes, you stand up and leave quickly before bursting in cries. You try to convince yourself that you’re feeling this way because they’ve been harsh on you, pressuring you like this, but you can’t fool yourself. Nothing hurts like the truth.

But you made it. You managed to sleep, and in the morning, you decide that you’re moving forward and as usual, leave the situation as it is. But you quickly notice that it’s not the case for Eijirou and Katsuki. When you went for breakfast, they were already done and heading to their own classes. Usually, you have your have your meals together and they accompany you before going about their business. Usually, Katsuki cooks in the morning, and you make the boys tea. Usually, Eijirou takes all of the bags on his shoulders because it’s manlier and ‘every little training helps’. But today was nothing like usual. You tried to avoid your paranoia during the whole morning, but you couldn’t anymore at lunch. They literally rejected you. In front of everyone. Maybe you finally ruined everything by yourself.

When you arrived to the cafeteria, you decided to wait for them before realizing that they weren’t late, but they didn’t wait for you. They were already eating with some classmates. Sero noticed you, lining up alone for your lunch and staring, with a troubled expression on your face.

“Why isn’t Y/n with you today ? The three of you are always together… Something happened ?”

“She decided that our company is no satisfying enough for her. We would not want to force her.”

You weren’t that far from them, and Eijirou’s hard words were sharp and loud enough to reach your ears. He said it that loud on purpose.

“I thought that you and her had a thing… Aren’t the two dating or something like this ?”

Katsuki growled at Denki’s curiosity.

“None of your business, you dumbass”

“I was asking Eijirou ! Of course, no one would date your rude ass”

“He’s right, Denki. Our love life is none of your business”.

No one could possibly ask anything after this, even if they took each other’s hand. They ain’t persons to take criticism. They just proved you that you can’t cut off people’s curiosity. You’re just not strong enough. So you ate alone, and reached the afternoon training late, sorrowed and unmotivated.

Since your two regular partners for training were sulking you, you paired up with Midoriya, who needed help for his frontal attacks. You were strong enough to repulse him sometimes, by putting all your frustration into your fight, and you were agile enough to avoid him when he was too strong. It wasn’t like your usual trainings, but it was instructive in that you were learning new things. And suddenly, just when your sadness has eased a little thanks to work, everything went so fast that you couldn’t understand. First, your eyes caught a familiar vision. Second, your turned your head to see that Katsuki was proudly and fiercely kissing a blushing Eijirou, that wasn’t ashamed to kiss him back. Third, your eyes went wide open, and your mouth in awe.

“… - SMASH !”

Fourth, everything faded away.

Before you open your eyes, you can tell that you’re in a hospital. The smell of disinfectant and the beeping of machines weren’t misleading. And when you opened your eyes, The memories came along with the severe pain. You remember… Izuku, Eijirou, Katsuki… Recovery girl… The hero trainer… The ambulance… The injury, the pain and the cries… The sedative… And then nothing. You got injured during the training, you weren’t paying attention and you received Izuku’s attack you were supposed to block or avoid with full force. If you were a villain, he would have neutralized you, which was the purpose of the training. He isn’t the one to blame, nor are the two who caught your attention. From the very beginning, you were the only culprit. And just when you were thinking of them, you heard Katsuki’s voice grunt behind the curtain that was surrounding your convalescence bed.

“We have to see her ! Oi listen you-”

“We’re in a hospital, quieter !”

“Please, doctor, let us see her. We are so worry, and we need to be by her side when she’ll wake up”

Eijirou’s pleading voice was trying to convince the relentless doctor.

“You’re not her family, I can’t allow you to do so. I am sorry, rules are rules.”

Someone, maybe Sero, intervened.

“C’mon, boys, there’s nothing to do but wait…”

However, they didn’t give up. Kirishima begging and Bakugou threatening almost made you cry. You struggled a bit, but managed to talk with a husky voice.

“Please let them in. They are my boyfriends. Please…”

The curtain was withdrawn in a hurry, and in a split second, the blond and the redhead were by your side.

“Y/N ! How are you feeling ! Is everything okay or are you-

“Don’t ever scare me like this again ! I might lose my mind if you ever-

They won’t let you get a word in edgeways, checking on you and their concerned eyes scanning you. You started crying.

“I am so sorry… I am so sorry that I was stupid enough to hurt you instead of overcoming my fear ! I don’t deserve you, I-”

Eijirou hushed to you, while carefully wrapping his arms around you.

“Shhhh… It’s okay now, sweetheart. We won’t talk about this now, and not anymore. Nothing is more important than seeing you happy and smiling…”

“Besides, all those who were waiting heard you… I am sorry…”

“What a plot twist ! Seriously, don’t be… I am not afraid anymore. Today was horrible, and I got more hurt by the truth then Izuku’s hit. I am not letting anything between us again. I love you, and nothing will stop me from doing so”

Katsuki took your hand in his, squeezing it against his heart and peppering it with kisses. Words aren’t for him, so he lets you know his gratitude in other ways. With a kiss on your forehead, Eijirou concludes.

“If it took you approaching death to realize it, you're more of a dumbass that he calls you so”

__________________________________________

Here is ! Please let me know if you liked it or not, and if you did like it, feel free to share so other people could enjoy it as well :)

@d3nk1x @i-heart-fictional-boys @skywalkerstyles (from which I drew inspiration for the polyrelationship, I totally love your work) @katsukichu @kirislilrock

Maybe I’ll try a real taglist… I just need to figure out how does it work…

#bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #bakugou x kirishima #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki angst #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima fluff #bnha kirishima #kirishima angst #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima ejirou x you #mha kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima eijiro imagine #kiribaku #kirishima x you #kiribaku x reader #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima x reader x bakugou

[cazimagines]

Hold on I still need you

Author's note: This was a request from anon, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to it but here you are. I hope you are also doing okay and have a lovely day. If you ever want to chat, any of you, my DM's are always free. I've also decided not to tag anyone in this fic as it deals with triggering themes and I don't want to tag people if it could potentially trigger them. Oh and if for some crazy reason you want to be even sadder I based the plot also on the song 'hold on' by chord oversheet so uh listen to that if you wanna be in the feels.

Synopsis: Request from anon: Can I request a sui*idal reader? Like they have thudding thoughts, the whole day her head is buzzing. Then they decide to do IT (you can decide how) and Zemo walks in and becomes heartbroken and floooooofff pls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF S*ICIDE, if you don't think you'll be okay reading it then please don't, your mental state always comes first, lots of angst followed by slight fluff, overdose

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

They wouldn’t miss you

You’re just an inconvenience to them

He doesn’t care for you. It’s all a huge prank.

It would be better if you leave

You groan in anger, hitting your head slightly to get those thoughts out of your head, but no matter how much you willed it, they would not leave you alone. Each time you tried to resolve one thought, reflecting on reasons why they do like you, your mind instead found persistent reasons for why they didn’t. Every small thing they have done which seemed off weighted down on your mind. Especially Zemo. Why didn’t he kiss you goodbye this week like he had done other weeks? Your logical side tried to argue that he simply forgot, but your paranoia always got the best of you. There is more. There has to be more. Another reason for him to avoid you. To hate you.

You didn’t want to be one of those girls whose entire life revolved around their boyfriend. You had your independence, your responsibilities, your hobbies. But these days they seemed so bland. They didn’t excite you the way they once did. Things you did for fun now felt like a chore to you. Doing anything these days felt exhausting. You knew it was annoying Zemo by how much time you spent in bed, how you stopped organising dates. But how could you find the will to do anything when you were so exhausted of life? It wasn’t as if you wanted life to end for you; it was just that you needed a break from being alive.

If you thought about it, it was the best option, right? You would finally get your peace. Your friends didn’t have to pretend to care about you anymore. Zemo could move on to date someone he actually loved. He wouldn’t feel like he only dated you out of pity. This was the best outcome. It had to be.

One of the worst things was the last walk. Your footsteps echoed along the pavement as you walked to yours and Zemo’s house. It was almost as if everything was going in slow motion for you. The corners of your eyes were blurred as you just concentrated on the path ahead. The usual outside sounds were faded, muffled to you. Instead, that singular voice inside of you rang out clearly.

‘I’m going to do it,’

Just that, again and again inside your head, unrelenting. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself to go through with it by repeating it. Your legs felt like stone as you forced yourself to continue to walk to your resting place. Your breath quickened as you approached the door.

Walking in, you were barely coherent. Zemo was still out. He should be gone for the next few hours. That’s plenty of time. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart as you thought about him. How would he react to seeing you? You didn’t want to think about it and thankfully if all goes to plan you would never would.

You manage to find yourself in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. By the window was the medicine cabinet. Stored full of many painkillers for the headaches Zemo often got. Often his past would come back to haunt him. Shakily your hand reaches up to grasp the door handle and open it up, your eyes focusing on all the orange pill bottles that cluttered it. You weren’t focusing as you reached to grab them, your hands instead accidentally knocking them to the floor.

Swearing under your breath, you rush to pick them up, feeling your eyes water up. Finally, you felt you had enough. Swallowing one last time, you open your mouth and down the hatched.

-

Zemo’s hands clutched the bouquet. The smell of sweet roses floating off them. Roses were typical, but always one of your favourite types of flowers. His hands gently graze against the box held in his trousers pocket. A reminder of the task that had been making him nervous for the last month. To propose. No matter what happened, the time had never felt right. He wanted it to be meaningful, for it to be special. After losing his last family, he wasn’t ready to let someone like you go away.

Still, he worried for you. Your behaviour had changed over the last few months and though he tried to ask you about it, you had always shrugged it off. It was nothing. You were fine. It wasn’t nothing. You weren’t fine, and he hated that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. That is why he was determined tonight was the night. He’d show you just how much you meant to him, and maybe then you would trust him enough to open up.

“Y/n?” he called out as he walked into the house. He’d taken the afternoon off for this moment, preparing it down to the tiniest detail, and finally, it was all falling into place. Now he had to just find you.

“Y/n?” he called out again

He paused, waiting for a response, but furrowed his eyebrows when none came. That was odd. You were always back by this time.

He started to walk around the house, checking in every room for you. As he found every room empty, his voice rose higher as he became more panicked.

Reaching the final floor, his eyes focused on the closed bedroom door, dread pooling into his stomach. The roses slip from his hand and the petals broke off as they hit the ground. His feet were already rushing to the door, his hands reaching for the handle, but no matter how hard he would push it wouldn’t give away.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hitting his fist against the wooden door in a desperate attempt that you might still be awake. He pushed his shoulder against the door with all his strength. The lock strained, giving crack to a single strain of hope for him.

He pushed his weight against it again, and then again, and finally; it broke. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor as the door burst open. He glanced around and his skin went cold as he saw you laying there surrounded by empty pill bottles. His legs folded as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close to his chest. His ears were ringing and his eyes were blurry as his fingers rested against the pulse in your neck, his head resting against your chest as he prayed for something, some sort of life.

A sob echoed from his throat, whaling coming deep from inside his chest. “Please,” he cried out, “Don’t you leave me. Not you too”

The tears streamed down his cheeks, falling on your pale, clammy skin. “Y/n” he whispered, his fingers still pressed against his pulse.

And then if by a miracle he felt it, hardly there, but he felt it, he’s sure he did. A beat.

He had already gathered your body in his arms and was racing you to the car. Ambulances would take too long. He had to get you to the hospital now. He was driving well over the speed limit but fines could easily be paid, your life couldn’t.

He swerves in and out of other cars, desperately trying to avoid any traffic, almost causing traffic by how carelessly he was driving. He could hear the cars honk at him, the expletives shouted, but none of that phased him. All that mattered was getting you to that hospital and thankfully, it paid off. He was at the hospital in a matter of minutes.

Grabbing you off the seat, he runs into the hospital holding you bridal style, screaming for help. The poor receptionist looked traumatised as she saw your ghostly pale head swinging as Zemo rushed towards the desk.

Quickly nurses had grabbed a hospital bed, and Zemo carefully placed you onto it. As they carted you away, Zemo grasped your hand, determined to follow you. He was instead forced to let go of you. He argued relentlessly to them that he needed to be there; he had to be there with you. Didn’t they know who he was? He got everything he wanted if he so asked but now he was forced into the waiting room along with everyone else. He couldn’t be with you, and it was killing him.

He paced around the room anxiously. People watched his stressed-out self as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. Occasionally his hand would flicker down to his pocket where the ring rested and a lump would come to his throat. Every time a nurse came into the waiting room, he would instantly turn to them, hoping that it would be about you. But it wasn’t and so he was left with his thoughts again as he went over in his mind what he had done wrong for you to ever want to do that. It must have been something he did. The way he treated you. Something he said. The blame rested solely on him.

Finally, the nurse came in, looking for him. As soon as she said the words, he was rushing to your room. As he reached it, he burst through the door, his eyes focusing on the bed in front of him.

There you laid peacefully.

Asleep.

But alive.

The next few hours he spent sitting beside you, just staring at your peaceful face, his hand grasping yours. The nurses tried to get him to leave, claiming you would be asleep for a few hours, but he refused. He had to be there when you woke up. He couldn’t imagine leaving you to wake up on your own.

After a few hours, your eyes finally crack open as you awake. As your senses come back to you, you could feel something holding your hand. Moving your head slightly, you saw Zemo beside you.

As soon as you moved your head he perked up and a wave of relief washed over him seeing you awake.

“Y/n, oh thank god,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tightly.

“Zemo? Where am I?” You ask.

“You are at the hospital after you… well,” he trails off, the word getting chocked in his throat as he thought back to what happened.

Your eyes started to swarm with tears as you feel guilt wash over you, knowing what must have happened for you to end up here with Zemo.

“Zemo, I’m so sorry”

“Please don’t apologise, you don’t need to apologise” Zemo instantly says, sorrow deep within his eyes, “But please, tell me what I did wrong. I can’t lose you y/n, so whatever it is, whatever lead you to that tell me”

“Zemo, it isn’t your fault. You’ve been perfect, you always have been. It’s me, it’s all me. It was so stupid of me Zemo, I shouldn’t have put you through something like that”

His grip on your hand tightened as he leaned over to put his hand on the side of your face, making you turn to look at him. “Don’t say that. You are not stupid. Far from it. Now please, tell me the real reason”

You sigh, leaning into his hand. “I didn’t feel worthy of you. Of anyone. I’m tired Zemo, I’m so tired and you deserve someone who can give you their all. And that isn’t me. I don’t feel alright and I’m not sure if I ever will again”

Zemo’s thumb strokes your face in comfort as he looks at you before deciding to get up and get on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug in the tight space you two had. “I love you y/n, if anything I do not deserve you. I understand how you feel and I know you will feel better in time, with help you will be. I will ensure you get the best help and will be with you every step of the way if you will have me”

He clasped you as you cried into his chest, his whispers of comfort and reassurance settling deep within yourself. You knew things would be hard; you knew you would doubt yourself again; you doubt him. But a part of you knew that with Zemo beside you, helping you, loving you. You could pull through.

A/N: If you made it to here I salute you for getting through the angst. Just remember you are never alone and if you are ever feeling in a bad way don't be afraid to reach out, I love you all 💕

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #tfatws #marvel #mcu

[captain-hen]

there ain’t nothing common about us

a/n: some much needed comfort after all the hurt the fandom has put itself through this past week :)

aO3

title courtesy of @malikjavaddzayn, thank goodness she isn't as indecisive as i am!

tagging some people who may be interested: @evaneddie @diazalex @buttercupbuck @diazseddie @firefighter-diaz (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from my tag list!)

When Eddie wakes, it is violently and with a tortured gasp as he abruptly sits up in bed, the sheets tangled around him. He covers his face with his left hand for a moment, breathing heavily, fighting back the sobs that threaten to spring free, his body shaking like a leaf.

It isn’t the first time he’s woken up like since he was discharged from the hospital with a sling around his right shoulder and an acute sense of fear and paranoia that followed him even into the safety of his own home. It has been almost a month, but the nightmares wake Eddie almost every night, varying in degrees of severity. The first two weeks were the worst, reaching the peak when he screamed in his sleep loud enough to wake Christopher, leaving the boy shaken and terrified.

Eddie put Chris into therapy the next day, and started working on waking himself up before the nightmares could get out of hand. The last thing he wants to do his traumatize his son even more than he already is, Chris has been through far too much at such a young age.

The dreams seem to blend together most of the time, memories of Afghanistan and the shooting, making the lines between the two blurry and unrecognizable. Sometimes, he’ll see the bodies of his fellow soldiers scattered around him on a sunny street in LA. And other times, he’s in the inky-black darkness of the desert, reaching out for Buck, who seems impossibly far away, covered with sand and blood.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Eddie reaches for his phone, wincing as the movement jostles his right shoulder. It’s 2 AM. Wonderful.

He tiptoes down the hallway to Chris’ room, cracking the door open just enough to see the shape of his son under the covers, sleeping peacefully. The sight makes something settle in his chest, the something that has been left askew after every single nightmare. He is here. He is safe. Christopher is safe. He didn’t leave him (again). They’ll be alright, eventually.

How pathetic is it that even after a month, he still needs to remind himself of it almost daily?

Eddie returns to his room and sits back down on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he feels a wave of bone-deep exhaustion wash over him. Between the PT and Chris’ therapy and occasional nightmares and his own nightmares, Eddie needs all the rest he can get. But he never can go back to sleep after waking up from an episode and. Well.

Maybe he should start going back to therapy, too. Eddie knows he’ll have to, eventually, to be cleared for duty. But before that, he still needs to get himself together. For Chris’ sake, if nothing else. He just—he can’t stand the thought of talking to some stranger about what happened, though. The only person he has been able to talk to so far is Buck.

Buck. He’s been a rock throughout this whole process, the entirety of the 118 has, really. Buck, though? He’s just been around, somehow more entwined in their lives than before, cooking meals, helping out Eddie with chores around the house, watching Chris when Eddie needs his rest. And coming from anyone else, it would make Eddie bristle, would make him protest that he doesn’t need all this extra help, to be treated like an invalid, but it never feels like that with Buck. Never has. He’s just…there, sometimes spending more time in Eddie’s house than his own apartment, putting up with Eddie’s occasional bursts of temper on harder days. He doesn’t allow Eddie to push him away, and Eddie thinks there’s nothing more he is grateful for, really.

Eddie is dialing Buck’s number before he can stop himself. While the two of them have talked about the incident, briefly, Eddie has never told him about the nightmares. He knows Buck blames himself, still, because he has a guilt complex possibly larger than Eddie’s own and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t want to be a burden. He should be able to deal with this himself. He did deal with it alone, after returning from Afghanistan. Why is this time so different?

Buck answers on the third ring. “Hey,” He doesn’t sound surprised or panicked at receiving a late-night call from Eddie. He doesn’t even sound like he’s been startled out of sleep, but Eddie feels the need to apologize anyway.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” He says, guilt feeling like lead in his stomach.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t asleep,” Buck says and before Eddie can wonder why, he’s asking, “Is everything alright?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer and nothing comes out. He feels frustrated tears prick at his eyes and he exhales deeply, trying to hold them in.

“Eddie?” Buck sounds more concerned now, and Eddie can hear a rustling noise, like he’s sitting up.

“Sorry, yeah,” Eddie manages to get out, wondering if his voice sounds as wrecked to Buck as it does to him. “I, um—” Might as well just rip the bandage off and get it over with. “Nightmares.” He says, finally.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, his voice taking on a softer, consoling lilt. He doesn’t sound surprised. Eddie doesn’t know why he expected him to be.

“It’s just—” Eddie breathes out harshly, gripping the phone harder. “I just can’t fucking sleep. It’s almost every night, I just keep reliving that day over and over and it never stops and I should be over it by now, right? And I should be able to hold it together, for Chris, he deserves so much better, but—God. It’s too much.”

“Have you considered going back to see Frank?” Buck asks, carefully. Eddie sighs.

“I did. I mean, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? I need to get better, and Chris—”

“But this isn’t about Chris, Eddie,” Buck interrupts, almost sharply. “You should want to get better for yourself, too. I mean, you were shot. In broad daylight, with zero warning—” he cuts himself off for a moment and Eddie can hear him exhale roughly over the line. “No one expects you to just bounce back. Trauma doesn’t exactly have a time limit, you know. You need to do what’s best for you.”

And Eddie can suddenly remember Carla’s words in that moment—Make sure you’re following your heart instead of Christopher’s—and wants to laugh hysterically at the irony of it. He knew then that Carla had a point—it’s why he broke up with Ana—and he knows that Buck has a point, too. But it isn’t as easy as it sounds.

“I’m not sure I know how.” He confesses.

“I know,” Buck says, softly, and sighs. “You always put Chris first, Eddie, that’s who you are, and that’s why I—”

Eddie holds his breath for a second. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting.

“Anyway,” Buck says, after too long a pause and Eddie deflates slightly. “You’re important too, Eddie. I wish you could see that. I wish you could—you could see yourself the way I see you.”

And how do you see me? Eddie wants to ask, but doesn’t dare. Things have changed since the shooting—there’s no way they couldn’t—and he feels like he and Buck have been hovering on the edge of a precipice, something electric and alien sparking between them. There isn’t a word for it, and neither of them have done anything about it. They’re really not in any state to do so. But lord, is Eddie tempted, sometimes.

“Why were you awake, anyway?” Eddie asks, wanting to break the thick tension that has suddenly formed. Buck sighs, like he was afraid he would ask.

“Nightmares,” He says, clearly trying to sound casual, but a waver in his voice gives him away.

Eddie’s chest clenches. “I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a wet-sounding chuckles and Eddie hates the idea of it, him having nightmares all alone in that apartment. “Only you would apologize for getting shot, Eddie.”

“Come over,” Eddie says, before he can stop himself. “I know it’s late, but—I don’t think either of us should be alone right now.”

There’s a lengthy pause and Eddie almost wants to take it back but Buck, mercifully, speaks. “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yes.” Is what Eddie says. I always want you here, is what he doesn’t dare to say.

Buck pauses again. Then—

“I’m on my way.”

Eddie turns off his phone and waits in the darkness for Buck to arrive. The moment he hears the key turn in the lock, he exhales a relieved breath and manages to smile when Buck appears in the doorway of the bedroom, hovering hesitantly, as though he expects that now he’s here, Eddie will change his mind and kick him out.

Eddie tries to sound exasperated, but it comes out sounding fond. “Buck, I really hope you didn’t come all the way here in the middle of the night just to crash on the couch.”

That makes him laugh and eases some of the tension from his shoulders. Kicking off his shoes, Buck moves over to the other side of the bed and lays down over the covers on his side, facing Eddie.

It should be uncomfortable, this level of intense intimacy that hasn’t been present in their relationship before. But right now, Eddie feels the most comfortable and relaxed he has in a while and he can only hope that Buck feels the same way, too. He reaches out, a little tentatively, to take Buck’s hand in his.

The other man stiffens slightly and he looks at Eddie with something like wonder in his eyes.

“Don’t make this weird, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, hoping to break some of the tension. It works, and Buck lets out a startled chuckle.

“God, you’re such an asshole.” But he complies, slotting his fingers through Eddie’s and squeezing tight. Eddie can remember him doing it in the firetruck on the way to the hospital and he swallows. He’s glad he has a better memory to replace that with.

Eddie closes his eyes, feeling a hazy, soft, sort of comfort settle into his bones, with Buck’s touch and just him, there, so close by. He can’t help but wonder why it took them so long, to give each other the comfort they each need.

“Buck?” He murmurs, without opening his eyes. Buck hums in reply. It feels strangely domestic and makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster.

“I think I will go to see Frank,” He says. “But for myself, this time.”

Eddie can’t see Buck’s face when he replies, but can hear it, the tender, proud smile in his voice. “I’m so glad, Eddie.” He says, his voice cracking a little bit.

If Buck says anything after that, Eddie can’t hear it, as sleep pulls him under into the most restful night he’s had yet. And when he wakes in the morning, Buck curled around him, his face peaceful and serene in the golden sunlight, Eddie can revel in the fact that the feeling was mutual.

#911 fox #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #dailybuddie #neethu writes #otp: you two have an adorable son

[jenosdaemi]

Works in Progress

i didn't know WIP mean works in progress until just now lmao

ANYWAY, here I will share the stories that I am currently working on, which will always be just one because my brain could never function well writing two stories at once.

AND, this is where you'll also get glimpses of my completed works that haven't been uploaded yet. Why don't I upload them already? Great question, I don't know either. I will though.... eventually.

Lastly, all finished drabbles and timestamps will not be included here. That's just going to be many and I'm too lazy to edit this lol. xo!

The Weight

Pairings: Liu Yangyang x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff, heavy cheating Word Count: Unspecified Summary: TBA Status: ONGOING Progress: 90%

Warnings: Heavy cheating, jealousy, mentions of paranoia (will add more)

AN: This is part of my Shawn Mendes Playlist Disc 3! Meaning this will not be uploaded right away once finished. I’ll have to write the other stories first that will also be a part of the Playlist. 😅 Hang in there!

She’s a Fille De Joie

Pairing: Johnny x prostitute!reader Genre: Smut, mature, angst, fluff (maybe) Wordcount: Unspecified Summary: TBA Status: ONGOING Progress: 20%

Fille de joie - Is the French translation of: woman of pleasure. A woman who brings sexual pleasure to men in exchange for money. An escort.

Warnings: language, besides the reader being an escort and the story being labeled a smut, nothing much yet

Until Next Time

Pairing: Lucas x female reader Genre: angst, au, smut (oral only), fluff(??) WC: unspecified Summary: Drunk in money and power, Lucas made a deal with black magic granting him everything he wanted, little did he know what seems to be a gift is also a curse. Whenever Lucas finds love, he travels 100 years to the future, how will he break this curse? Status: DISCONTINUED Progress: 80%

Warnings: settings from the 1700s, 1800s, 1900s and 2000s, mentions of corruption, black magic, prostitution, black market, under-market, oral sex (male receiver), swearing, mentions of punishment, adultery/cheating/infidelity

I GOT THIS IDEA FROM TIKTOK POV AND HONESTLY, IT'S A BIG SHAME ON MY PART THAT I DIDN'T WRITE HIS NAME DOWN. BUT I WILL LOOK FOR HIS ACCOUNT AGAIN AND GIVE HIM PROPER CREDIT FOR THIS.

Also, the reason why this one is discontinued is not because of Lucas's scandal. I started this fic in April 2021. I just hit a dead-end and decided to put this one on hold in mid-July of the same year. I have every intention to finish this, but I just don't know when will I get the sudden burst of inspiration and motivation to continue this.

Angel

Pairing: angel! Kai x human female reader Genre: fluff, angst, sacrilegious WC: 3.5k Summary: Kai is an angel who fell in love with you, a human. He started sneaking out from heaven just to take a glimpse of you, but what used to be a few times becomes constant as he tries to get closer and closer to you. Status: COMPLETED

Warnings: sacrilege, angels, angel of death, mentions of death and dying, hunger/starvation, sick character, mention of food, implications of talking to the supreme being, poverty Inspired by EXO's Angel

Daylight

Pairing: idol! Suho x female reader Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of crack if you squint WC: 8.7k Summary: Meeting a celebrity during your overseas soul searching has a one in a million chance happening- close to being impossible- or so you thought. Status: COMPLETED

Warnings: arrange marriage, cheating (?????), swear words (i think), idk what else please let me know Part of Maroon 5 Playlist for EXO

#jenosdaemi wip #works in progress #nct #nct fanfic #exo #exo fanfic

[writing-in-april]

Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

—-

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#raymond wadsworth x reader #raymond wadsworth #matthew gray gubler x reader #suburban gothic fanfic #matthew gray gubler #suburban gothic #raymond wadsworth smut #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

[themadlostgirl]

Chaotic Coupling

*FINALLY! This f**king request took so f**king long! It matter not now because I finally finished it. It is also really long so hopefully that helps make up for how long it took. I do not mean it lightly when I say it is long. This took up 14 pages in google drive. You have been warned.*

Prompt: Reader is the goddess of chaos exiled to the Underworld. It is plenty boring but then she meets the recently deceased Peter Pan. He seems like he could be fun!

Requested by: anon

Warnings: language

~~~

What is more sweet than chaos? What is more freeing then giving into desire? What is a life if one does not indulge in their sins?

Boring. Tedious. Peaceful.

Not at all fun.

Y/N was a goddess of chaos. Messing with mortals by causing trouble and anarchy wherever she went. It was chaotic and threw mortals into a hysteria but that was not how Y/N saw it. Oh no. When she looked down and saw what her actions had wrought she only saw beauty. The anger, confusion, sadness, and raw untethered emotion bursting from every lifeform like a volcano. She loved it.

Unfortunately the other gods did not. She was warned hundreds of times to stop causing such blatant and unneeded mess around the globe but she never listened. It was not like the gods ever punished her. The world would always need a little chaos. Trying to contain it would only build it up until it was unleashed like a hellstorm causing much more damage than she ever could by herself. She almost wanted them to detain her just so she could see what her release of chaotic energy would do to the world.

That was not what happened. After centuries of warnings the gods did finally punish her. She was not put in a crate like a pup as she had almost secretly hoped. The gods were smarter than that. Instead she was put on a leash. Banished to the Underworld to help her Uncle Hades. Her presence would still be felt throughout the world but she could not incite anything truly chaotic as long as she was regulated to the Underworld.

At first she tried to keep her head up. Though she had never visited the Underworld she had to believe it would be fun. It was where all dead souls went. Good and bad. They may be dead but that didn’t mean they were free from chaos.

As she soon learned though nothing she did made much of a difference in the Underworld. Her Uncle Hades ran a tight ship so she could never get away with anything too bad. How could this punishment get anymore boring? She was practically debasing herself with these petty squabbles among the dead. It was humiliating and it was boring! What she would give to be able to leave but so long as she was under Hades watchful eye there was no escape.

It was another miserable day in what was essentially hell. Y/N was taking a walk along the street of the town Hades had modeled the Underworld to. All of the sudden a new soul materialized in the center of the square. That was nothing new. New souls appeared all the time. There was something kind of off about this one though. They had an energy about them that practically made her mouth water. Who exactly had died?

She made her way over to them. “Hello there,” She said and the soul turned sharp on his heel. It was a boy. Young. Disheveled brown hair and piercing green eyes blown wide like a cornered lion. “You have some bite don’t you?”

“Who are you?” He snarled.

“I’m Y/N. Goddess of Chaos and unwilling permanent tenant here in the Underworld.” She stalked around him assessing him up and down. “And you are?” She reached a hand out to touch him. He grabbed her by the wrist halting her. He pulled her closer his eyes hard like stones and his words dripping with malice

“Don’t touch me,” He growled.

Y/N chuckled. “You are fun.” She inhaled deeply, “You absolutely reek of it.”

“What?”

“My beautiful chaos. It’s been so long since I’ve caught a whiff of such potent mayhem. Far more intoxicating than any wine.”

“Get away from me,” The boy shoved her off, “Insane woman.”

“You would be insane too if you were stuck here for centuries unable to have any real fun.” She followed after him, unperturbed. “Well I guess you are now.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m bored. Duh. Also, I still haven’t learned your name my delicious little anarchist morsel.”

“Stop talking to me like that. My name is Peter Pan.”

“Hm,”

“What now?”

“Such a boring name for someone who absolutely reeks of pandemonium. Care if I call you something more interesting? Like Balthazar or Zebulon.”

“No.”

“No fun.”

That seemed to irk him and he reared on her with a fury. “You do not know who you are talking to. I have fun more than anyone. The world is my board and everyone else in it are pawns.”

“Really? Cause you seem straight boring now. Peter Pan. Blech, and here I had such high hopes for you.”

“Oh woe is you. So sorry to disappoint Your goddess-ness. Unless you can get me out of here then I have no use for you.”

“If I can’t get out of here then there’s no chance you can. If you decide you want to stop being such a stick in the mud come find me. I live in the clocktower.” With that she walked away. Such a shame. She had gotten her hopes up for a minute just for him to let her down. She wondered what he had done in his life that made him smell so delicious though. Oh wait! She could!

She entered the library and went to the secret section in the back. No one could enter here except for gods. Millions of books lined the shelves. The life stories of everyone that had ever lived. “Peter Pan.” She said his name and waited as a book levitated off of one of the many shelves and flew into her hands. “Let’s see what is so interesting about this Peter fellow.”

Lots of reading later and Y/N understood better exactly who she was dealing with. This Peter Pan was a lot like her. Living on his own island doing whatever it was that he wanted. Instigating violence and anarchy in the name of fun. He was also far older than he appeared. Since time stood still on his island, his Neverland, he lived for hundreds of years without growing older. How had she missed such a place? It sounded like somewhere she would have thrived.

It was almost eerie how similar the two were. At least in the context of his book. The real thing seemed a lot more boring. Perhaps that was due to him dying. Death just took the life out of everyone. Metaphorically speaking.

A few days went by of Y/N stalking Peter to see what he would do. After reading through his novel she was sure he’d be one of those that roughed it in the wilderness but to her surprise he took up residence in a secondhand shop. Why there?

Curiosity overtook her and she went inside the shop. Pretty little trinkets long ago lost lined the shelves and glass cases. Something stood out to her amongst all the sparkly treasures. A doll. A simple straw doll with a little blue coat on it. It stood proudly on a pedestal all by itself. What was so precious about this?

She took the doll off the pedestal to inspect it further.

“Drop it.” A cold voice demanded. There was Peter Pan behind one of the cases. His eyes narrowed at her.

“What? This?” She waved the doll, “If you don’t want people touching it you should really put it somewhere more secure than a pedestal in the middle of the room.”

“I said, drop it.” Peter urged again. Y/N didn’t miss the hint of panic in his voice.

“What if I don’t want to?” She produced a flame from her finger, “What if I burnt it to a crisp instead? It’s awfully dry. It’ll be ash in seconds.”

“Put it down!” Peter roared, he had jumped the case and in a split second had a dagger pressed to her throat. “Now!”

“Why is this so special to you?” She asked. He pressed the blade closer to her neck, not saying a word. Something clicked in Y/N’s head right then. A mention of a doll in Peter’s book. A smile creeped back onto her face.

“It’s your doll. The only toy and the only friend you ever had until you came to Neverland.” She extinguished the flame on her finger. “How sentimental.”

“How did--how did you--”

“I know everything now, Peter Pan.” A shadow passed over his face, “And I mean everything. The mother that never wanted you, the orphanage, the fairy that guarded you, your attempts to go back and have a real family failing year after year until you decided you were too old to be anyone’s son again--”

“AGH!” He slashed her throat but not a mark was left on her skin. Not a drop of blood.

“Now that was rude,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “I think I’m owed an apology.”

“But how did…” Peter stared at the dagger.

“Seems you need a reminder.” Y/N took him by the throat. The doll and dagger clattering to the ground as she hoisted him into the air. “I am a goddess. The Goddess of Chaos. Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?”

He clawed at her hands but they were like stone around his throat. “Remember this Peter Pan, my body takes an insane amount of power to break. Yours, not so much. So remember your place in this world. You are no leader here. You are no threat. You are my toy and I can throw you away whenever I want. So either be a good toy or I will destroy you.” She dropped him. He collapsed to the ground gasping for breath.

“This was fun,” She knelt down next to him and pulled his chin up to look at her, “I’ll be back to play again.” She left a kiss on his forehead. “Farewell.”

Y/N did not go back to see Peter Pan again for several days. For days she watched him stew in his paranoia. Constantly looking over his shoulder like a frightened deer everywhere he went. He liked games. Y/N knew that much. But it looked like he wasn’t having as much as she was with this latest one. Every so often she would walk by him on the street, acting like she hadn’t noticed but all the while watching him from the corner of her eye. He got so tense when he saw her but never withdrew. He would glare at her until she passed.

It was fun having someone to torture like this again. He still had fight in him.

Then came the morning everything changed. Y/N was walking along the street as she usually did this time of day when she noticed Peter exiting the diner. What luck!

“Good morning!” She sidled up next to him, “Got some breakfast did you?”

He didn’t reply. Just shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and kept walking.

“Oh come now, it’s no fun if you don’t reply.” Y/N said, “If you don’t say anything I’ll just take it as a challenge.”

Nothing.

“Fine.” She sighed, “I just thought you’d like someone to talk to. You don’t talk to anyone around here. I think the only person I’ve seen you talk to is my uncle and that was only once. Don’t you find it boring doing this routine everyday? Don’t you want to try something new? We can have a lot of fun if you would just remove that stick up your ass. What happened to the fun boy full of mayhem that I read about? Did he die when you did? I wouldn’t think death would change a person so drastically. People usually retain their personalities from when they were living into their death but not you. You are more boring than watching grass grow and trust me, there is no grass growing here. You are as boring as watching non-growing grass. Isn’t that sad? I think--”

“SHUT UP!” Peter shoved her hard against the wall of a store. His arm was pressed against her neck pinning her in place. “Leave me alone!”

“Ha!” She laughed, “I told you I could get you to talk.”

“There has got to be a way to kill you.” He muttered.

Y/N smiled. Peter’s arm dug into her neck harder. “Stop smiling.”

“You have fire,” She grinned wider, “I like fire.”

Something clicked in his head. His grip on her easing. She figured that would get his attention. He backed away from her slowly. Y/N turned to a potted bush next to the store window. Peter watched her with a growing sense of interest.

“Don’t you like fire too?” She produced a spark in her hand and flicked it at the flower bush. “One little spark of fire and from that spark it grows. It grows, it spreads, it devours everything in its path leaving behind nothing but torment in its beautiful inferno. It’s the most breathtaking form of destruction I’ve ever come across.”

“You’re kinda crazy aren’t you?” Peter asked, watching as the flower bush was consumed by the flames.

“Perhaps.” she fluttered a hand over the fire making it grow faster. “Being the goddess of chaos kinda does that. I thrive off of disorganization and pandemonium. It would only make too much sense that’s what my mind is like as well. I may be impulsive but that doesn’t make me dumb. You have to find the right nerve to hit to maximize your effect. Groom them with little incidents of mayhem here and there. Then, when the timing is right you hit them where it’ll hurt most and watch the beauty unfold before you. Just like a flame can engulf an entire forest, one perfectly hit nerve can destroy an empire.”

“What do you do when it’s all in ashes then?” Peter asked.

“Not my area. I can bring civilizations down but I’ve never really put much thought into raising new ones up. That’s what the rest of my family is for. They take the ashes of what I have done and create new life. It’s an endless circle of life and death. Gods, I miss it.”

She stared deep into the fire.

“Is that what you’ve been doing with me? Bothering me with little annoyances for days on end before trying to strike that nerve that would drive me insane?”

“A bit.” She shrugged, “Not a fan?”

“Not really, but I guess that’s the point.” He sighed, “I think we’re a lot alike actually.”

“I thought the same thing while I was reading through your book. Did death really suck all the fun out of you?”

“Not much fun to be had here. None of my boys are here, I have magic but there’s nothing for me to control outside of a stupid little shop, and the residents are insanely dull and sad. I fear that you have been my only form of entertainment since I got down here.” Peter waved his hand and the flame from the one flower pot jumped into the next catching that one on fire as well. “What did you mean when you were talking about my book?”

“Oh, there is a portion of the library only accessible to gods. It holds books that contain the entire lives of everyone who has ever lived. I read through yours. That’s how I know everything about you.”

“I see…”

“Would you like to see it?”

“Sure,” He nodded. “Don’t think this means that I like you now or anything. You’re merely the most interesting thing here at the moment.”

“Which is precisely why you do like me.” She elbowed him, “Come, I think you’ll like this place.”

They went to the library and Y/N entered into the area reserved to gods. Peter pouted outside since he couldn’t get past the invisible barrier that shielded him from entering. Y/N grabbed his book and returned with it. “See?”

“Do the gods have these as well?”

“Yes, but they are kept on Olympus. Did you want to read mine?”

“I thought it only fair seeing as how you read my entire life story.”

“Well you would be reading mine for a long time. I do a great many things and I have lived far longer than you have. There’s no need for you to read my book though. Whatever you would like to know you simply have to ask. I have no secrets.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust anyone who is that open about their past. No secrets? At all?”

“There is nothing I have done in my life that I feel ashamed or embarrassed about.”

“I believe that.” A grin started to spread on his face, an idea latching in his mind, “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have anything personal that you’d rather not share. Acts of wrath and embarrassing moments aren’t something you would feel bad about sharing. Intimate moments though, personal moments, that’s where you clam up.”

“Is this your clever way of trying to dig into my exciting love life?” She smirked. “Afraid I don’t have any secrets there either.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I don’t care about any past lovers. I can tell what really gets to you.” Peter stepped closer, “Your family.”

“I don’t care about my family.” Y/N said, she tried to sound casual but his tone gave her pause.

“Yes. You’ve said so. They kicked you out and it is dreadfully boring down in the underworld. But beyond that, you miss them. The only one down here is Hades and I doubt he’s great company. But the other gods and goddess, your other family, even though they banished you here you still yearn to be a part of their world.”

“You don’t know anything.” Y/N’s voice was quiet. She hadn’t expected him to turn the conversation around on her like this.

“I know a lot actually.” Peter continued, “And what I know best is when someone is lost. You may be the Goddess of Chaos but you know what I see? I see the same sadness and desperation that many of my boys wore on my island. You are just a lost little girl crying for your family.”

She hadn’t realized she threw the punch until she saw Peter collapse on the floor. Her breathing was heavy and her hands were shaking. This boy had drilled down into the very core of her being with no effort. He had seen through her as plainly as glass. It was unnerving and she may have reacted a tad harshly to his assessment.

“Punched by a goddess,” Peter stood up again, rubbing at his jaw, “Can honestly say that’s something I hadn’t expected to happen in my life, er, death I guess.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Hardly. Figured you were gonna react like that.” He sighed, “Still not the worst hit I’ve ever taken.”

“You are a strange boy.”

“It’s what keeps me interesting.” He collected the book that had fallen from his hands off the floor.

“Does this mean you still want to kill me?”

“I’m debating it.” He said. “This interaction doesn’t change the fact that you are incredibly annoying.”

“Hurtful but accurate.” Y/N shrugged as she made her way to the stairs that led up to the clocktower. “In another life I think we could have been a very good team.”

She paused. She turned around and saw that Peter had the same look of contemplation. Their eyes met and twin smiles sprouted on their faces. “Is this my magic at work or are we on the same page?” Y/N asked.

“I believe we are.” Peter approached her, “Neither of us wants to be trapped in the Underworld and neither of us individually has the power to escape. But if we work together…”

“We can escape this hellhole.” Y/N finished. “Think you can survive teaming up with me long enough to get out of here?”

“If it means freedom then I will be at your side until we both see the blue sky once again.” He held out a hand, “Partners?”

“Partners.” She shook his hand, “This is going to be so much fun!”

Time passed quickly after Peter and Y/N teamed up to find a way to escape the Underworld. Y/N already had a headstart on research since she spent so much time when she was first banished here finding a way out. She shared her findings with Peter and the two spent days pouring over every detail that looked like it could be useful.

With no need to sleep or eat in the Underworld they would spend several days straight huddled in the library plotting their escape. In between all their research and brainstorming sessions Y/N got to know Peter Pan beyond what she had read in his book and in return he got to know her. They were closer. He still said she was the most annoying thing in all the realms and she teased him often when he got too serious.

When things got especially tense and they needed to blow off steam they would go out together and cause mischief in town. They even snuck into Hades’ office once and stole some of his decanters of fancy liquor. For the first time in a very long time Y/N was truly having fun. Torturing and messing with souls was all well and good but she found she was actually enjoying her time with Peter. She was laughing a lot more with him. Peter himself seemed to grow more at ease with her with every passing day.

Before she had even realized it their begrudging partnership to find a way out of the Underworld had blossomed into friendship. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had a friend. She couldn’t remember if she ever did. No one had ever wanted to be very close to her. Causing chaos wherever you go, even unintentionally, threw people off. It never bothered Peter though. He called her annoying but he smiled and laughed at the havoc that naturally happened around her. He played along with it.

“Good morning, Chaos,” Peter let himself into her clocktower bedroom. “Got you a muffin from the diner.” He tossed her a paper bag.

“Thanks.” She caught it. “So, look at this thing I found. So we know that the only way anyone can get out of here is if Hades opens a portal, right? Well, apparently it isn’t solely Hades that can open portals out of the Underworld. Any god can by either being more powerful than Hades like Zeus or by usurping him as the ruler of the Underworld.”

“So you could open a portal out of here?”

“Theoretically yes. But we would have to usurp my uncle.”

“I think we can take him together.”

“No. Here’s the problem. The only way for us to usurp him is to kill him and it is hilariously, nearly impossible, to kill a god.”

“But there is a possibility?”

“I mean I guess but it is hardly a viable option. The only way I know how to kill a god is with the Olympian Crystal which Uncle Hades keeps heavily protected. It is also broken with no way to fix it. Trust me, he brought it out once for me to try and fix but I couldn’t do anything.”

Peter pondered it for a minute. “Okay, you couldn’t fix it all by yourself but what if we tried combining our powers? Do you think that could do it?”

“Maybe. Hades and I tried together once but he said it wouldn’t work since his heart isn’t beating.”

“What does that have to do with--”

“It was part of his own banishment. He can’t leave the Underworld unless his heart starts beating again or something like that. So even though he has the means his dead heart keeps him trapped like us.”

“Alright, is he tied to the crystal in any way? Is there any way he could track it if it went missing?”

“No. So long as it is broken he shouldn’t be able to find it. Why? Plan on stealing it?”

“Yes.”

“Stealing my uncle’s most prized possession from right under his nose, sounds risky...I love it!”

“I thought you would.” Peter grinned, “Seems that for the first time we have a real plan. I say this calls for a celebration.”

“Not too premature?” She asked.

“Well, if we fuck it up then we are both doomed so we might as well celebrate now before anything potentially goes wrong.” He pulled what was left of the liquor they stole from Hades out.

“I won’t object to that.” She took a sip before passing the decanter back to Peter. She stared wistfully out of the clocktower window and sighed. “It’s so strange,” Y/N said, “To be this close to freedom. I have so many memories of the world above but they feel more and more like fantasies I’ve created than something I was ever a part of. I don’t even know what I would do when I get up there. Where would I go?”

“You’re more than welcome to come cause havoc on Neverland if you’d like.” Peter said. “Give my boys a challenge.”

“You really want me on your island? The most annoying being in all the realms?” She teased.

“If you happen to be near at least.” He smiled, softer. “I’d blame it on the liquor but it doesn’t affect us so I guess I’m just gonna have to say this.”

“Say what?”

“I think I am actually gonna miss you when we get out of here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Chaos.”

“I suppose I’d miss you too.” Y/N shook her head, “I take that back, I know that I’ll miss you.”

“Well that’s enough mushy stuff,” Peter said quickly, dropping his gaze, “We have a crystal to steal after all.”

“Right, of course,” Y/N nodded.

More time passed and Y/N found herself in a new and frightening headspace. She was confused. All her life she had lived through chaos, so much so that it was what she was named the goddess of. Anarchy was where she was most comfortable but yet, when that same pandemonium she thrived in was pushed inward she didn’t know what to do. She could do well in chaos because she always had a focus point. Herself. She was the eye of the storm. She was safe while everything happened around her.

So why did it feel like she was caught in the hurricane?

It had all started that day she and Peter had decided to steal the crystal and usurp Hades. Something about that day disturbed her. When she looked at Peter now her mind wandered. When he sat close enough to touch, her brain burnt out. Yet nothing had changed.

No. That wasn’t entirely true. At some point during all their scheming Y/N had grown to really care about Peter. She’d even call him a friend. When she thought of her life outside of the Underworld she couldn’t think of one where she wasn’t hanging out with him. She already missed him and he wasn’t even gone yet.

What was wrong with her?

Whatever it was it would have to wait. She had a mission now. It was finally the day. After tons of careful and meticulous planning they were going to steal the crystal. Peter was serving as a distraction for Hades while Y/N snuck in and bypassed the traps and wards Hades had around the crystal. She figured she’d have five maybe ten minutes max to get in and get out before Hades got bored of Peter and came back. That’s if she didn’t trip one of his traps first.

By the time she finally got the safe unlocked her whole body was sweating and shaking from nerves. She had come so close and now all she had to do was grab it and get out. She took down the last ward and grabbed the pieces of the crystal and shoved them into her bag before slamming the safe closed and putting the wards back up as quickly as she could.

And done. Phew. Now all she had to do was get out.

“Now this is a surprise.” Y/N froze. Damn. She had taken too long. She poofed the bag away to her room in the clocktower before turning to meet her uncle.

“Hello, hope you don’t mind that I popped in.” She said as casually as she could. “Life up top was getting dreadfully boring.”

“I would say so, it is a rare thing for you to come visit me.” He scanned her up and down, “What entertainment do you think I can provide?”

“I don’t know. You have the billiard table. Care to play?”

“Not now.” He shooed her, “I have work to do so you can scamper along and torment some other poor soul.”

“Boo! You really are the god of the dead.” She stuck her tongue out at him. In the next instant she reappeared in her room. She collapsed back on the bed in relief. Hades didn’t suspect anything.

She heard the sound of pounding footsteps and Peter barged in. “Did you get it?”

Y/N held up the bad with pieces inside. “Who do you take me for?”

“Yes!” Peter was so happy he lifted her off the bed and into the air in a tight hug, “We’re gonna get out of here!”

And the inner turmoil was back. Heat crawled up her neck and burned her face. Had Peter ever held her like this before? Why did it feel so nice to be in his arms?

Just as quick as it started Peter dropped her back to her feet and reached around her for the bag. He pulled out the pieces and set them on the bed, looking over them carefully. He was talking about how it looked like it should be an easy fix but there were other logistics to take into account and whole lot of other technical mumbo jumbo that she really didn’t care about. Well, not so much cared about but couldn’t bring herself to comprehend since her mind was still being tossed around in a tornado of unfamiliar feelings.

“Hey” Peter shook her shoulder, “Were you listening?”

“Spaced out. What were you saying?” She asked.

“I tried a spell on my own but it did nothing. Care to try with me this time like we planned?”

“Got it.” Y/N took her spot next to him and stared down at the broken pieces of crystal. She picked up one and Peter picked up the other. “Here goes nothing.”

They faced each other and started the spell. She was channeling all of her power into it, willing the crystal to come together. This had to work. It just had to. The spell died and when she looked down she frowned at the still broken crystal in her hands.

No. No! It was supposed to work! This was supposed to work! She slid down to the ground, her half of the crystal laying limply in her hands. Peter knelt down with her.

“It didn’t work.” She muttered, “It didn’t work, Peter. We went through all of this and our one way out of here is still just a hunk of junk!”

“We’re never going to see the world above again.” Tears started to slip from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Don’t say that,” Peter tilted her chin up. His large green eyes bore into her. “We are not giving up now. Not after we have come this far. We are going to see that big blue sky again, Y/N. I swear it.”

“How? We have no other way to get out of here unless we kill Hades and we can’t kill him without this crystal.”

“We’ll find a way. We will not rest until we get out of here. I don’t care how long it takes. Do you wanna know why?” He brushed the tears from her eyes, “Because I want us to go on adventures together. I want to see what you can really do when you can let chaos run free. I want to show you my home. I want you to see Neverland. I want us to have fun together outside of here.”

“Peter…” The whirlwind within me started to ebb, “I want that too.”

“And hey, in the meantime, we can still have fun together right here.” He smiled.

That’s when it hit her. What that chaos reigning inside her really was. Why it felt so strange yet so pleasant at the same time.

“I love you.” She said.

Peter blinked at her. “Huh?”

She grabbed his face and brought him closer so her nose touched his, “I love you, Peter Pan.”

He didn’t respond. Not with words at least. The distance between them, as small as it was, closed and she felt his lips brush against hers in hesitant kiss. She pulled him closer again and the kiss deepened. The spark that ran through her felt like a bolt of lightning and she should know since she had been struck by one of Zeus’ blasts before. This was a lot better though and it certainly didn’t leave a coppery feeling in her mouth.

A flash of light made them break apart. Down at their knees was the Olympian Crystal in one piece. Y/N picked it up. She could feel the power running through it. “But how did…?”

“Through the most powerful magic of all. Something that not even a god could compare to.” Peter grinned, “True love.”

“Are you saying that we have true love?” Y/N teased. Truthfully the thought made her want to jump up and down but she would never admit it.

“Seems so. Only makes sense that I would fall in love with the goddess of chaos.” Peter ruffled her hair. “And she made the unfortunate decision to love me back.”

“Why’s that unfortunate?” Y/N asked.

“Cause now you’re stuck with me forever, Chaos.” He pulled her into his arms.

“I think I can live with that.” She kissed him again. She held up the crystal with a wicked smile. “Now, my love, how do you feel about killing a god for our first date?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” He matched her insane smile. They were going to have so much fun!

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader #request

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 6

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, suicidal thoughts.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your situation becomes even clearer

Note: I’ve been working my ass off but I managed to eke this out after sleeping off the pain.

I appreciate y’all reading and your reactions have been the highlight of writing!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

A tray of food sat untouched just inside the door. Its predecessor had been retracted with a sigh from the other side and replaced with a fresh meal. You had refused either, only drinking the water as you kept mostly to the bed.

When you moved, it reminded you of what Bucky had done to you. The tender cuts throbbed and you hissed through your teeth as you hugged your only pillow in an effort to get warm. You’d even torn the fitted sheet from the mattress and wrapped yourself in it.

You cleaned your cuts carefully every now and then and replaced the bandages. Mostly, you stared at the wall or that little lens above the door. He was watching you. Always. The thought made you shudder and kept you awake when your body tried to coax you to sleep. Those minutes that you did manage to rest were sparse and disjointed.

When at last the door did open again, you didn’t flinch. You stayed as you were, sat on the bed against the wall with the sheet draped over you. You kept your head down as the tray was carefully pushed by the door and lifted by your visitor. Footsteps neared you and he cleared his throat. You finally looked up, startled by Steve’s gentle blue eyes.

He held the tray in one arm and a quilt folded over the other.

“You should eat,” he placed the food before you. His eyes lingered on the bandages and he gave a sad smile. He turned and placed the blanket on the foot of bed. “If you do, I’ll take you for a shower.”

You scowled and crossed your arms over your knees. You looked away. You shook your head as tears picked at your eyes. You sniffed.

“Of course you’re in on it,” you croaked. “Of course… I’m so stupid.”

He exhaled and the mattress dipped as he sat. “Will you eat for me?”

“Don’t… don’t talk to me like that. We’re not friends.” You hissed as you kept your eyes averted. “We never were. I was just your victim. Your plaything. So,” you gritted your teeth. “What you do want from me, huh? Don’t worry, Bucky’s already softened me up for you.”

“Shhhh,” he reached over and touched your knee, his touch warm through the thin sheet. “I’m not a monster.”

“No, just the monster’s assistant.”

“I brought you a blanket and you have food. It’ll only get worse if you’re stubborn.” He warned.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped and finally looked at him again. “How can you-- Did you help kill those girls? You must’ve done something. Helped him set me up. Maybe it was you on the phone--”

“I did what Bucky needed me to do.” He said evenly. “You don’t understand, sweetie--”

“Don’t.” You bit out. “Don’t call me that.”

He pressed his lips together before he continued and his eyebrow twitched slightly. “Bucky’s sick and those girls are just another symptom. What was done to him, it changed him and I’ve watched him fight to control it and he only finds that control with you.”

“No, no, that’s bullshit.”

“If you’re so worried about those other girls, if you feel bad about them at all, you will help Bucky.”

“Help him?” You scoffed. “You’re both insane.”

“If you help him,” he carried on, “He won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Just me?”

“No, no, that’s not-- I didn’t know he was going to use knives.”

“It didn’t matter, did it? He still did it.”

Steve chewed his lip. You shoved his hand away from your leg and sidled away from him. He huffed and stood. He moved the tray across the bed. His hands went to his hips as he watched you.

“You can eat when you get back but you should shower.” He said. “Keep yourself clean, maybe get warmed up.”

You shrugged and rubbed your cheek. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I’m trying to help you,” he neared and bent to catch your eye, “It will be good to stretch your legs.”

“Just leave me alone. Let me die down here. We both know that’s how this ends.” You snarled.

He twined his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “I can and will make you but I didn’t come here to hurt you so I’ll give you one more chance.”

You blinked at him and tilted your head. His fingers bent slightly and you knew he meant it. Your thighs rubbed together and reminded you of your cuts. You couldn’t handle much more pain. You looked away and made your way off the bed, keeping the sheet around you snugly.

“Can I have some clothes, too?” You asked.

“I tried but… right now, that’s not going to happen.” He took your arm gently and led you to the door. Your legs were stiff and slow but he was patient as he opened the door. “But I’ll ask again, okay?”

You were silent as he took you into the hall. He turned you and guided you away from your cell.

“You know, a blanket and clothes… it doesn’t make you any better than him.” You said.

He stopped in front of a sliding metal door and hooked his fingers in the handle. He pulled it open, inside was a shower in the closet-like space and nothing else. Just a showerhead and cold tiles. A neat line of bottles sat atop a single shelf.

“But it might make me preferable to him,” he leaned in. “I can be a lot nicer.”

You searched his face and his eyes slipped to the top of the sheet. He reached over and tugged on a wrinkle of fabric.

“You’ll have to leave this with me. I’ll get you a towel.”

You shivered as he pulled harder and you let go of the sheet. You couldn’t look at him as you were left entirely naked. His fingers tickled your hips and he nudged you into the shower.

“Take your time,” he cooed. 

He pulled the door shut with an echoing clang. The latch twisted into place to secure the door and a little flicked on. You stared at the showerhead but could not figure how to turn it on. It suddenly shook and burst to life; you realised it was controlled from outside.

Steam rose around you and enveloped you in the tight space. Despite your circumstance, the water was soothing. You reached for the strawberry scented soap and scrubbed yourself, peeling away the bandages as they began to wilt. You felt as if you couldn’t get clean but you tried desperately.

You paused as you heard voices. You stepped closer to the door as they were muffled by the metal and the steady buzz of the shower.

“Come on, Buck. We had a deal. I didn’t do all this for nothing.” Steve said.

“She’s mine,” Bucky growled. “I told you.”

“You know I won’t be too rough. Not like you.” 

“Why? You didn’t even want to do this in the first place?”

There was a silence, then a soft chuckle. “She’s sweet and my cock’s been hurting for days.”

“She’s not some toy.”

“Isn’t she?”

There was a sigh and a tisk.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky. I helped you clean up all those messes and I get what? You haven’t even said thank you. Not once.”

Another silence as you held your breath. It disgusted you to think they were bartering over you like an object.

“No cutting.” Bucky said tersely.

“Not into that,” Steve retorted.

“And don’t even go near her ass.”

“Aww…” Steve bemoaned.

“No kissing on the lips. You get one hour.”

“Can I dress her up?” Steve asked, his voice laced with sinister glee.

“Fine, but take the clothes with you after.”

“See, Buck, isn’t that what friends do? Share?”

You shoved yourself away from the door. You were breathless and weak. This couldn’t be real. None of it. It was so fucked up. It had to be a nightmare.

The showerhead died and the lock clicked. The door opened suddenly and the steam cleared. Bucky unfolded a towel and held it out. You quivered but made yourself step out. He wrapped your wordlessly in the fluffy towel and looked to Steve.

“Take her back to her room then.” He said sternly.

You snarled as Steve neared and for a moment you were sandwiched between the two men. As you turned, you looked at Bucky in the face, a wrinkle set deep in his forehead as he watched you.

“You’re a fucking monster,” you spat, “I fucking hate you.”

His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared. He stared at you then slowly looked behind you at Steve and nodded.

“Two hours.” He smirked, “And don’t be afraid to leave some marks.”

Steve ushered you away from Bucky. You dragged your feet as you let him and he stopped you before the same door with the slot. He reached out and touched your bare shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon, sweetie,” he purred and you curled your lip, “Bucky said I can bring you some clothes.”

“Oh, I know exactly what Bucky said,” you huffed.

His brows shot up and he snickered. “Ah, well then, you’ll be ready when I return, won’t you?” He opened the door and held it open. “Don’t forget to eat. You’ll need your energy.”

You frowned as he waved you inside and you turned to watch him as you entered. He smirked and gave a wink before he closed the door. You trembled as the cold crept up your legs and rolled down your spine.

You looked up at the camera. You knew Bucky would watch. He had never stopped watching you.

👁️

The deep, unyielding pain in your stomach made you eat. It might have been dread more than hunger but your head wasn’t so hazy as before. You set aside the tray in the corner and hugged the damp towel around you. You weren’t eager for Steve’s return but you were waiting for him because you knew it was inevitable.

You sat on the edge of the bed and rocked. They couldn’t just leave you like this all the time. With nothing but time and white walls as you braced for their next appearance. You would go mad. You felt it already.

When the door jerked, you did too, but you didn’t look over as Steve entered. You could smell his cologne and the fruity scent of the soap lingering on your skin. He inhaled deeply as the door closed behind him and he walked decisively to the end of the bed. In the corner of your eye, you saw him set something there.

“You smell nice,” he said. “I brought you something to wear.”

“Okay,” you grumbled and didn’t move.

He stood in silence. Waiting. “Well…”

“I know why you’re here so what’s the point?” You hissed.

“Why I’m here is exactly the point. Get dressed, sweetie.”

“Stop calling me that!” You turned to face him. “Stop. Just do what you’re going to do and go.”

“Not until you get dressed,” he said in a low voice as he came closer and bent before you. He stared into your eyes and swallowed. “I don’t want this to be difficult and I know you don’t either but it really doesn’t matter to me either way.”

You squirmed and looked back at him. You clung to the towel with one hand and pushed yourself up with the other. He slowly backed away as you stood and you rounded the end of the bed. You scooped up the clothes and headed for the washroom. You could feel him smiling at you.

You closed the door and put the clothes on the tank of the toilet. You dropped the towel and lifted the first piece. A sheer white blouse with a round high counter. You eyed it and bent to sort through the fabric. Satin panties, matching bra, garter belt, stockings, heels… the blouse and the skirt had a vintage feel to them. The attire was straight out of the pin-up era.

You dressed reluctantly. The panties were too small and kept riding up, the bra was uncomfortable and the underwire painful. The blouse was easy enough to see through and the heels made you clumsy.

You took a breath before you reached for the door. You stepped through and kept your chin down. Steve gave a hum.

“You look lovely,” he purred.

You ignored him and folded your hands. You kept as far from him as you could in the small room.

“Well…” he began, “Come here. I want you to undress me.”

You gulped and edge around the bed to where he stood. You hesitated and he grabbed your chin. He forced your head up and smirked down at you.

“The longer you drag this out, the less restraint I’ll have.”

You said nothing and ran your fingers along the hem of his shirt. He leaned down and helped you lift it up his arms and over his head. His broad chest was bared and his muscled stomach flexed as he stood straight. He shifted and forced his shoes off with his toes. Your hands fell to his belt and he groaned. You paused before you fumbled with the buckle.

“I really wanted to fuck you in the kitchen but Bucky doesn’t trust you upstairs,” Steve ran his hands down your arms. “But if you’re good, I might be able to convince him.”

You were quiet. You couldn’t think of words. You could barely keep from collapsing entirely. As you unzipped Steve’s pants you thought of Bucky stripping at the end of the bed, of the way he admired his knives before he chose one, at your blood dripping down his chin. You yanked Steve’s jeans down and stepped back.

“You’re not done, sweetie.” He taunted.

“Why?” You rasped. “Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to be good. You’re a hero.”

“I earned this.” He grabbed your hands and placed them on the top of his briefs. “I’ve saved enough lives to claim one.”

You shook and grasped the elastic. You didn’t look as you pulled it away from his waist and angled it over his obvious bulge. You let them drop down to his feet and rescinded your hands with a whimper.

“I can’t--”

He kicked away his brief and peeled off his socks. He came closer and you retreated until your legs hit the bed.

“Shhh, let me lead you,” he touched your chin and leaned in. He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “God, look at you.”

He cupped your tits through the blouse and squeezed. “It used to be that men were expected to keep women. Pretty little housewives; obedient, docile.”

You grabbed his wrists and your lip quivered. “Steve, you don’t have too--”

“Do you know what husbands would do to rebellious wives?” He asked. “Do you?”

You shook your head and clung to him, afraid you would fall back onto the bed.

“Let me show you, sweetie,” he ran his hands down your sides, “I’ll show you how to be a good little wife.” His hands stretched over your hips, “Turn around.” He spun you, “Hands on the bed.”

You bent without thinking. Even after all that had happened, you were still terrified. What worse could he do to you then had already been done?

His hands went to your ass and he kneaded through the skirt. He rubbed along your thighs and pushed his crotch against you as he reached to the hem. He raised it as he rocked against you and slipped it over the curve of your ass. His fingers danced on the satin and tickled the top of your thighs.

He pressed his hand across your ass. “Every woman needs her lessons.”

He pulled his hand back and struck you. Hard. Your legs shook and the pain reverberated through your body. You let out a whimper and he did it again, the slap echoed off the walls. You dug your fingertips into the top of the mattress. A third time. Again, again, again. You lost count as fire singed your nerves.

He didn’t stop until your legs slid out from beneath you and you clung to the bed weakly. He tutted and lifted your hips back until you set your feet again. He gripped the top of the skirt and tore. The fabric fell away from your body and the blouse slackened around your middle.

He felt along the panties and rubbed between your legs. He prodded at your cunt through the satin and you felt the slickness spread along the inside. You were ashamed as he pulled the crotch aside and dragged his finger through your arousal.

“Women need discipline. They crave it.” He flicked your clit and you moaned. “See?”

“Please--”

“Please?” He mimicked. “What do you want? You want me inside you?”

You shook your head and tried to stand. He pulled his hand from your cunt and caught the back of your neck and forced you back down. He pushed you until you were on your stomach, your legs hanging over the side of the bed. He bent over you and his hot breath grazed your cheek.

“Turn over, sweetie,” he ordered, “I’ll show you how to serve a man.”

You quaked but couldn’t move. He turned you over roughly and you bounced on the bed. He climbed over you swiftly and held your head between his hands. He pinned down your shoulder with his legs, his knees above them, as his cock bobbed over your face. You writhed beneath him and he easily kept you in place.

He lifted your head as he angled his cock against your lips. You closed your mouth and he pushed harder.

“Be a good wife,” he grunted, “Come on, open up.”

You opened your mouth and he slid inside. You were dizzy and out of breath with his weight across your shoulders and chest. He dipped deeper and poked at your throat. He forced himself as far as he could you and you gagged as he leaned forward. He planted a hand on the mattress as he pulled his hips back and thrust. You choked again and he groaned.

“You can do it, sweetie,” he moved slowly, “Just like that.”

Your spit gathered along your lip as he fucked your face. You struggled to breath around him but your struggle only seemed to encourage him. He moved his pelvis fast and harder until the bed was bouncing violently beneath your bodies. 

You slapped at his legs as he ignored your gasps and gags. You kicked out, your feet sliding over the floor as you tried to wriggle free. He sank into you entirely and snarled. He took a breath as he held himself there.

“Should I come down your throat? Already?” He growled. “I could…”

You murmured around his cock and he chuckled. He pulled out slowly and pushed himself off of you. He bounced beside you as he hung his legs over the edge of the bed and winced. 

“Fuck, it hurts so bad.” He pet your thigh as he caught his breath. “I’ve been saving it for you.”

You took frantic breath and he pinched your leg. He stood and hummed. He turned and stroked himself as he faced you.

“Turn over again.” He bid.

Your heart pounded in your temples as you dizzily rolled over. You were too senseless to resist. If you did as he said, it might be over soon. He grabbed your hips and drew you onto your feet as he lifted your ass. You kept your hands on the bed as you struggled to keep yourself up.

He bent his knees as he poked around with his cock and dragged his tip along the satin. He hooked his finger in the fabric and pushed it aside as he pressed himself against your cunt. He impaled you a little at a time, pausing to bask in each inch until he filled you up completely.

His grip tightened on your hip and he began to move you against him. Your toes barely met the floor as he slid you up and down his length. Each time, his flesh clapped against your ass as the panties twisted painfully.

“Tell me you like my dick,” he snarled. You murmured and shook your head. “Tell me!” He barked.

“I-- I-- I like your dick.” You sputtered.

“Mmmhmm,” he rutted into you even harder. “Tell me you love me inside of you, sweetie.”

You whined as your thighs tingled and tensed in tortured pleasure. “I love… love you inside me.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he sped up again, slamming into your already raw ass. “Tell me you love me. You love me, don’t you?”

“Wha--”

“Say it.” He demanded.

“I l-love you,” you gasped as your eyes rolled back and the waves crested. “I love you.”

“Fuck, I can feel you cumming all over me,” he purred as wet noises filled the air. “Fuck, look at you, sweetie.”

You groaned as your arms bent beneath you and you leaned on your elbows as he lifted your ass even higher, his hands slipping to your thighs as he pushed your legs back against his.

“You like to make me happy, hmm? You like being my pretty little wife.” He hammered into you as his voice grew deep and fractured. “I’m gonna cum in you, sweetheart.”

“N-n-no,” your head rolled back and forth on the bed as you were helpless against him.

“You want me to make you a mommy?” He slithered. “You could grow big for daddy.”

He shoved you forward suddenly and fell atop you. He crushed you beneath him as he kept his hips moving and fucked you into the mattress. He slid his arm under your neck and squeezed. He jolted into you painfully as you spasmed once more in reviled delight.

“Here I go,” he uttered. “Daddy’s cumming.”

He grunted and your walls milked him as you felt his heat spill into you. You grabbed at his arm as your head began to throb and the cuts that lined your flesh burned. You felt everything, the pain, the pleasure, the despair, the fear, the hopelessness all at once. 

And when he stopped, all your strength was sapped from you. Still deep inside you, he dragged his arm from beneath you and held himself over you as he watched his cock slipped from your cunt. His cum spilled out and coated your folds and seeped into the panties. 

The mattress shifted and he grabbed the back of your blouse along the collar. “Take this off…” He tugged. “Then get in daddy’s lap.”

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #scopaesthesia #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #serial killer au #serial killer

[masterjedilenawrites]

Golden Linings: Chapter 1

Cal Kestis x reader

Series Summary: You and several of your friends have been captured for unknown reasons. After being rescued by a rag-tag trio on the hunt for Force-sensitives, you all strike a deal to aid in their quest while searching for a way back home... though your own priorities threaten to shift as you grow ever-closer to the sweet redhead Jedi called Cal.

Chapter Content: Some fighting and creepers being creeps

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

A/N: I don't really know where this story will go but I've been wanting to write a multi-chapter fic again (don't worry, I'm still working on my Thrawn & Eli one too!) and I wanted to do something with our precious Jedi cinnamon roll, especially after writing this post, which may or may not be woven in later, we'll see. I'm striving for a gender-neutral reader but may update to fem! since this is very self-indulgent I'm so sorry, sometimes you gotta write for yourself ya know?

Chapter 1: Fight and Flight

You were scared.

Terrified.

There almost seemed to be a disconnect between your body and your mind. The one was on auto-pilot, unable to stay still, taking you through street after street as if it actually knew where it was going. The other was shutting down, incapable of processing anything around you in a clear or productive way. Your eyes scanned buildings and faces and signs, but not a single one registered to you.

You were lost.

Scared.

Alone.

It had been a normal day at the start, the kind of normal that wouldn't have planted itself in your memory had it remained a normal day. It would've been indistinguishable from all the other normal days you'd had just like it in your life, and you would've continued on to live even more of them without a single care about it. That's how it should have been.

But now, now that you had been unexpectedly ripped from that sense of normalcy, thrown into this strange place with no options or even an explanation as to how any of this could have been possible, you were forced to accept your life was not as it should be, and that you had to do something about it.

Your feet halted at the thought. You had to do something. All this walking and wandering wasn't doing something... if anything, it was only a distraction, a way to postpone the inevitable acceptance of the situation for what it truly was. A scary, terrifying situation you wanted nothing to do with but had absolutely no choice. A lonely and confusing situation that was going to challenge your strength in a way you wished you didn't have to face, but secretly suspected you needed to. That's why bad things happened to good people, right? To test just how good they really were?

You had stopped at a street corner, one of the quieter intersections in this new town. Instinctually, you'd been trying to get away from the overwhelming hustle and bustle you'd initially found yourself in. Though, now that you were finally letting yourself process your surroundings, you realized that instinct, while good in intention, had actually led you to a not-so-great part of town that was starting to make your skin crawl.

There was litter in the gutters and grease on the walls of the buildings around you. A burst pipe was spewing from somewhere close by, and though it was open daylight, the amount of shadows seemed to have grown. You gulped nervously, not sure if you'd be able to come up with a plan here, or if you'd fare better back to the crowded parts you'd came from.

A whistle came from behind and your spine tingled unpleasantly. You knew what it meant but whirled to face it anyway. A couple of hunkered, wrinkly creatures seemed to be sliding toward you, their humanoid eyes narrowed but openly scanning your body.

"Lost, pretty thing?" one of them almost seemed to hiss.

You responded the way you'd done earlier, when you'd woken up in that dungeon of a room and realized your day had changed from normal to scary... you ran.

Your feet pounded the ground beneath you, sending jolts of pressure painfully up through your tired body. You didn't dare look behind to see if you were being pursued. You didn't hear anything, no further taunts or laughter, but that didn't mean you were completely free. And now you were running deeper into the more desolate parts of this unknown city. If you stopped, you may just find even worse threats waiting. That's what your stressed mind reasoned, anyway.

On and on you ran, one foot in front of the other, until your chest felt on the brink of bursting. You didn't want to, but you let yourself slow back to a stop, and as soon as you did, your legs immediately gave out beneath you. Your knees slammed on the ground and you'd probably feel the sting in them for a while, but you didn't care. Not when you couldn't catch your breath and that nagging sense you were being watched from the shadows sat uncomfortably in your thoughts.

The buildings were taller here, towering so high they blocked out most of the sky and gave the impression it was much later in the evening than you knew it to be. But everything was boarded up. Not a soul was in sight. What even was this place? Was it truly abandoned, or only made to seem so?

You were right to be suspicious. Your paranoia bubbled within you like a sixth sense, turning your head in the proper direction before you were aware of what you were doing. Just on the other side of the street before you stood a tall, glowering man dressed all in blank, flanked by IG droids. The man you didn't recognize, but there had been IG droids guarding that room you'd escaped from. You knew they weren't a common model of droid, so what were the odds they weren't the same as the ones you'd slipped past earlier?

"There you are," the man growled, confirming your suspicion. But what surprised you next was the glowing red light that suddenly jutted out from an object in his hand. It hummed menacingly, threateningly. You knew there was a word for it but couldn't quite call it to mind at the moment. All you knew was it was a weapon, and if you could summon back your breath, you should definitely start running again.

A blaster shot fired out of nowhere and you saw the man raise his stick of light up to block himself from it. How had he known to do that? You didn't have time to fathom it, instead watching as a couple additional figures rushed out of the shadows and toward the man and his droids. One of them hung slightly back, a blaster raised and firing at the droids. The second went straight for the man, producing a beam of light of his own, and clashing enthusiastically against his opponent.

You took the opportunity to put some distance between yourself and whatever this fight was about. You crawled down the street, pushing your back up against a wall you deemed safe enough, though on what criteria you weren't really sure. At least it provided a sense of stability in this otherwise chaotic situation. You didn't know who any of these people were; who the man was and why he was after you, who your rescuers were and whether they were actually friendly or merely enemies of an enemy. Heck, you were still trying to figure out who had captured you earlier that day and why. This fight of lights and lasers was mesmerizing, but incredibly overwhelming.

"So eager to prove yourself," you caught the man growling out. His red light had paused in its assault against the blue one, in favor of taunting the boy who held it instead.

"Oh, this is just good practice," the boy said, matching the man's pacing with his own.

His comment earned a gravely laugh. "Your eagerness makes you sloppy, and your over-confidence makes you weak. This is what happens to students without masters."

It was odd, but though the boy was several feet away from you, half-obscured in shadow and definitely hard to discern through your labored breathing and confused state of mind, you could still somehow tell the man's words upset him. But maybe you were just projecting. You'd be pretty pissed if someone called you weak, too.

Whether the boy would've snapped and resumed the fight or not, you'd never know. What little sliver of sky still remained above was then blocked out by the mass of a ship. It lowered itself as far into the narrow street as it could and sent bursts of wind of hurtling down, your hair whipping about in protest. You braced a hand in front of your eyes, peering through your fingers to see a ramp had been lowered, waiting.

The other figure, who'd made short work of the IG droids, was running toward you now. The man with the red light was temporarily stunned by the sudden arrival of the ship but quickly recovered. He swung his light at the boy and their fight recommenced. Your observation of it was interrupted, though, by the arrival of the woman who'd now reached you.

"Come on, dear, we gotta get out of here!"

She grabbed hold of your shoulder, prepared to help you stand, but you immediately flinched and tried to crawl away. You didn't know her, you didn't know anybody out here. How could you possibly decide whether you should follow her or not?

"Please," she implored, not chasing after you, but holding out her hand and urging you to take it. "We don't have much time. We can get you to safety."

You glanced over at the boy who continued to hold his own against the man who'd been after you, despite having been labeled as sloppy and weak. Surely these people were good, right? At the least, the blue color of his weapon seemed kinder than the red of the other.

The woman was right, there wasn't much time. And you didn't have much choice. You shook yourself, as if trying to physically dispel your own doubt, and stood. You took hold of the woman's hand and let her lead you toward the ship's ramp.

"Cal!" she called back toward her friend as the two of you ran.

If the boy heard he didn't seem to mind, continuing his fight with a determination you still weren't sure how you could detect from such a distance.

The woman jumped effortlessly onto the ramp and turned to hold her hand back out to you. You jumped as you reached for it, but your frazzled nerves must have gotten the better of your strength, as you weren't quite able to hold on for long. You teetered dangerously on the ledge of the ramp where your feet had only barely connected but couldn't quite get enough traction. One part of your mind was bracing itself for the impact of your inevitable tumble backward; the other part had the gumption to ignore the fear and think only of how embarrassing this would be.

And then something warm and solid pressed into your back, and an arm was wrapping around your middle, practically sweeping you away from the edge and up the ramp. You only barely registered a streak of ginger hair next to you as you allowed yourself to be helped into the ship. The ramp closed behind, sealing out the harsh sounds beyond and all the dangers it represented. Your ears seemed to ring from the sudden cut off, but you could hardly shake yourself free of it while you fought to stay balanced as the ship maneuvered itself upward and onward. It was a fleeting fight; you immediately stumbled toward the floor and slid back against the ship wall.

You were safe now. At least that's what you told yourself as you surrendered to your slouched position on the floor of this strange ship, and finally let yourself breathe.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #cere junda #greez dritus

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Risk”

Welcome back, everyone! I have a lot of mixed, complicated feelings about today's episode and I'm already sure this recap will miss a great deal that should be said. There's a lot to digest, we need some time to do that, so until things have settled I think that the one, entirely confident claim I can make here is that our writers weren't BSing the fandom on twitter. The last few days have seen a number of big claims made regarding "Risk" —

— and whatever else we might have to say about the episode, it certainly delivered in terms of shocking content. From confessions to reveals to a new plan in place, there's a lot to unpack. 

So let's get started.

Our first shot is a problem. 

I don't want it to be! But I've got to work with what I've got. We open on Salem's flying monkeys — or gorillas, if we're being technical — and my immediate thought is where in the world they came from. I mean, obviously I know where. We ended Volume 6 with the post-credit scene of Salem adding wings to an army of Beringels, Hazel commenting that she'll lead the invasion herself. When Salem arrived at the end of Volume 7 and we picked up where we'd left off in Volume 8, the fandom was obviously expecting an attack led primarily by flying, transformed grimm. That didn't happen. For ten episodes the plot forgot that the Beringels existed, focusing instead of the Hound, the grimm soup, then the Whale, then the ground grimm the Whale was producing. Months back I encountered a number of posts asking, "What happened to the resource we know Salem brought to this fight?" and those questions are partly what inspired the "Introducing new grimm that are then quickly abandoned" spot on the bingo board. Now, suddenly, the Beringels have re-appeared and that is a good thing. Though it's too little, too late, as is so often the case with RWBY. Getting something you expect has a sour taste when it arrives months past when it was needed, especially when that something only exists for a second on screen. 

This is doubly true given that we saw Oscar eliminate the grimm last episode.

At least, I thought he had? Pretty much everyone I've spoken to thought he had. This last week's discussions have centered around RWBY nerfing the stakes, taking out a whole army of grimm in one, magical blast. That's far from great. Yet now we see that we were apparently wrong. Atlas remains overrun with grimm, this problem remains a problem... so, yay? But we're once left with a tradeoff. RWBY has no longer eliminated the stakes with a deus ex machina as we had originally thought, but in its place we're left with a badly executed scene last episode and an assumed problem that is "fixed" with an enemy we should have been dealing with since the start of the volume. The road to the Beringels has been messy indeed and all they've done so far is fly across the screen.

Which reminds me: if this army of grimm still exists — and absolutely existed prior to Oscar's blast — how come not a single one is attacking the Schnee manor? This opening is in Atlas, the skies are overrun, we've seen a few grimm show up to help out the Hound, yet miraculously nothing bothers the group while they freak out at the dining table, or freak out as Penny tries to leave. That's a whole lot of grimm and a whole lot of negativity... yet somehow these two things never meet in a way that would inconvenience our characters. While from a writing standpoint I can understand not wanting to interrupt all these conversations and feel good moments, the show can't simply ignore the rules of its world whenever it's convenient. If anything, given that Atlas' population is currently hidden beneath the city, Schnee manor should be even more of a hot-spot than it normally would be. There is one (1) group of people out in the open for them to target. 

Yeah, we're a single shot into this episode. It's a doozy.

Moving right along, those Atlas citizens (and, let's not forget, a large number of Mantle evacuees too) are still huddled in the tunnels, listening to Ironwood's insane broadcast. They're obviously terrified, as are those down in Mantle who are staring execution in the face. Fiona bursts into tears.

It makes me wonder why we didn't get the airship subplot now. As I've mentioned extensively in the past, that decision didn't make much sense and I think the writers knew it didn't make much sense because they chose not to reveal what Ruby and co. planned to do with the citizens once they were on board. The point was never to come up with a feasible plan, something the audience would put to the test, but rather to just make it seem like the group was doing something Smart and Heroic before Ironwood inevitably derailed it. Don't look too closely at the man behind the curtain. Normally, I'd comment that yes, it's damn hard to come up with a brilliant plan to save others in a situation like this — our characters can only be as smart as our authors! — yet that sympathy dissipates when we hit this episode and are given a scenario where airships would have been great. Ironwood has threatened to nuke Mantle. Suddenly, it is imperative that the civilians leave the safety of the crater as soon as possible (whereas before it was not). So Whitley remembers that they have access to these ships and the group hatches a plan to sneak them down while Ironwood is distracted, get everyone up into Atlas so he can't use Mantle as a bargaining chip anymore. Then they're spotted, the plan revealed, and Ironwood shoots their ships down, leaving them devastated that their attempt to help the citizens has literally gone up in flames. We're still left with the problem of why Ironwood wouldn't just allow a continued evacuation now that Salem is briefly out of the mix and the Schnees have provided extra resources — the writing really took a sledgehammer to his characterization — but the group trying to get people to Atlas to avoid death by bomb at least makes more sense than them trying to move the citizens to an undisclosed location, for unestablished reasons, when they were already relatively safe. The bomb is what makes those airships a necessity.

It really makes me wonder how much editing goes on and how much time the writers have before they finalize scripts.

Regardless, we cut from terrified people to Ironwood himself, accompanied by Winter. The animation has some nice parallels going on here, what with the same black, white, and blue color scheme, hands behind their backs, the need for robotic accommodations, and steps perfectly in synch. As we're about to see though, Winter is very good at looking the part of a loyal soldier while actually bending the rules.

However, are we really going to ignore that she betrayed Ironwood last episode? Betrayal from his perspective, that is. Winter was given a direct order, disobeyed that order, pissed off Harriet in the process, and wasn't able to give a good explanation for her actions — she was too busy being creeped out by Ironwood's reaction. For all intents and purposes she should be considered disloyal right now. Or at least under suspicion, yet Ironwood acts as if everything is fine. We've skipped over any meaningful fallout between them, or a reason why Ironwood would dismiss her betrayal. This ties into something I'll bring up later in the episode: namely, that RWBY introduces too much too quickly and doesn't have time to satisfyingly tackle — or tackle at all — the plot points they've introduced, simply because there's always a new one to focus on. We dropped the "Winter went against Ironwood at great personal risk" plotline to make room for the new "Ironwood has randomly threatened Mantle" plotline, which likewise doesn't do Ironwood's characterization any favors. I don't just mean the obvious "Omg he's willing to murder a whole city now" issue. Ironwood used to be smart, yet his unfounded trust in others makes him look foolish now: first trusting Watts, now Winter. Alongside that, the story and fandom have both pushed the idea that Ironwood is paranoid, yet that "paranoia" has only ever been attached to justified threats. If he were actually paranoid then Winter's actions would have caused him to mistrust all of the Ace Ops now, labeling everyone near him a disloyal enemy, despite evidence to the contrary (especially when it comes to Harriet). Yet across two volumes Ironwood has continually been "paranoid" only in regards to things like Cinder and Salem — proven threats — while simultaneously trusting known villains and ignoring when his subordinates straight up say, "She let our enemies go free." There’s little rhyme or reason to any of his decisions here. 

Still! A nice, meaningful shot lol.

As Ironwood and Winter get closer we see the Ace Ops discussing the threat. "Of course he's not going to do it," to which Marrow pushes back with, "So what? He's bluffing with a whole city?" This is a really, really important moment that I don't think the writers realize is important. See, everyone is shocked when Ironwood reveals that he intends to go through with the threat. The Ace Ops, Winter, Robyn, our heroes... everyone grapples with the idea that this is actually happening. Everyone has some moment of, "It's just a bluff, yeah?" and I don't think that's just denial. The characters' shock tells us that Ironwood normally wouldn't be a man who'd do something like this. Ever. That shock has to stem from something, such as an ingrained understanding that Ironwood is a protector, not a murderer. Note the difference between the fandom and the characters' reactions. Whereas a good chunk of the fandom went, "Of course Ironwood means it. We all saw this coming! Remember how he..." and then proceed to list various things — persuasive or otherwise — that prove he was always a bad guy in the making. Yet no one in the RWBY world is inclined to use those moments as evidence. Winter doesn't go, "He's not bluffing. I saw him shoot the councilman just for speaking up" and the Ace Ops don't go, "Oh, he'll do it. This is the man who destroyed his arm to take down Watts. He'll stop at nothing." After everything they've seen — the same things we've seen — there's still some instinctual, nebulous knowledge that goes, "No. Ironwood wouldn't. He's one of the good guys." We can certainly talk about real life people getting swept up in horrible institutions, unwilling to admit how bad things actually are until they hit a specific line they can't cross... but I think this is less a comment on some sort of bystander effect (RWBY isn't that deliberately nuanced lol) and more an unintentional acknowledgement that until the very sudden and entirely unexpected shooting of Oscar, Ironwood actually wouldn't have done this. The Ace Ops are reacting to a man who absolutely existed until the writing erased him and they believe the core of that man still exists. To my mind, he should, but because our show can't actually have Salem as the main villain right now, she's conveniently blown up and Ironwood takes her place.

So we've got some loaded implications there, as well as Vine's comment that he hopes "the kids" see sense now. I am begging RWBY to pick a lane already. Are they kids, or are they adults? Because that answer makes a big difference and we can't continue to have it both ways.

Ironwood and Winter arrive were Ironwood orders that she prep drones with the "payload." That's the moment Winter and the others realize he's serious. Cue that shock all around. The revelation is the last straw for Marrow, prompting him to start yelling some excellent points about how Ironwood is doing Salem's job for her. See, this accusation works. Telling a guy threatening to blow up a city that he's as bad as their villain is accurate. Having Oscar tell that same guy that he's as bad as their villain because he wants to save a city full of people... is ridiculous. Totally different setup here and RWBY got it right this time. The only line that didn't work for me was Marrow asking the Ace Ops if they believe in anything. Uh... yeah. They believe in saving Atlas + all the Mantle evacuees they got. That's pretty well established. I swear,  most RWBY speeches are padded with generic, heroic-sounding lines that don't actually mean anything, or are outright falsehoods we’re meant to ignore. 

We'll see more of that with renora.

Marrow attempts to leave and his eyes go wide as he hears the click of Ironwood's gun. Remember I said that Winter is good at playing the obedient soldier? It's after Ironwood aims that she tackles Marrow. 

On the surface it looks only like she violently disarmed him, but in reality she got him out of the bullet's path and kept Ironwood from firing at all. She saved his life, choosing to play up how she'll “take this traitor to the brig” where he belongs, rather than watching him die. A really nice moment in terms of strategy and one of the few lately where I've actually felt like I'm watching smart characters.

However, I cannot deny the uncomfortable implications in this scene. Smart or not, necessary or not, it hasn't escaped anyone's notice that one of our darkest characters was a) nearly killed by a white man and b) beat up by a white woman. To say nothing of Marrow's status as a faunus. I was cringing during his line about loyalty: “I used to wear this rank with pride. Now I see it for what it really is: a collar." 

Honestly, I don't have the qualifications to unpack all that, so let's just acknowledge that the scene, while good in some respects, was massively insulting in others. I’ll let others in the fandom defend or damn it as they see fit. 

We get a shot of how shocked the Ace Ops are that they nearly watched their team member get executed for speaking up against a bomb threat. It once again highlight's RWBY's strange depiction of violence and when it's deemed appropriate. Harriet has threatened people a couple of times now — here telling Marrow she'll shut him up herself — yet her reaction tells us that she never would have killed him as Ironwood nearly did. Threats, then, mean little... unless Ironwood is making an exaggerated comment about shooting Qrow. Then it's evidence of evil intent that's bound to come to the surface eventually. So does that mean Harriet will be trying to bomb cities herself someday? If so, it once again leaves our heroes in an awkward position, considering that Ruby started the fight Harriet wouldn't, Weiss stuck her weapon in Whitley's face, etc. If it says something awful that Winter would punch a minority — even to save his life — what does it say about Qrow that he would punch a child in anger? Outside of the easy to label actions like Ironwood's bomb threat and shootings, there exists this gray space that asks, “When are you justified to use violence? When is a threat forgivable?” The problem is, the show keeps coming up with contradictory answers. I bring this up not because Winter's punch or Harriet's threat are the most significant examples of this that we've seen, but because the themes of forgiveness and violence take center stage at the episode's end... and RWBY completely drops the ball. Keep these complications in mind. 

Before that though, the group is crowded into the dining room and no matter what else "Risk" might give us, I'm reminded that I really like the design of the Schnee manor. I'm glad the episode found an excuse to show us this room again.

My initial thought upon entering the scene was, "Are we going to talk about Penny's hack? The silver-eyed grimm? Ozpin's return?" and to RWBY's credit it touches on all of these, though I stand by my point about plotlines coming too quickly. Any one of these should have been given the space to grow, not fighting for space against the potential destruction of Mantle. If you don't acknowledge these things in "Risk" you've lost your chance (much like how "Oscar is kidnapped" replaced "Oscar has to deal with Ozpin's return," resulting in a scene where Oscar was just... randomly okay with Ozpin again. We lost the chance to deal with the first conflict introduced because we barreled into the second), yet if you do spend episode time on these issues, it feels like the characters aren't dealing with the immediate threat. Questions of silver eyes, what to do about Penny, and Ozpin's return needed to be given their due before there was an hour time limit resulting in thousands of deaths. Now, you have to wonder why Yang and Ruby are talking about their mother when a city's safety is ticking away. Where were these questions and reassurances years ago?

I think this is why this episode — maybe even this whole volume — simultaneously feels too full and too boring. We're being introduced to lots of Big Things, but then putting them off to focus on other, smaller stuff, and by the time we circle back around it's no longer the right time. We're constantly focusing on the least interesting, least important thing in the room. Why is the group sitting around with their tea when we could have moved the Hound plotline up and started this groundwork earlier? Which means we're doing that work now instead of worrying about Mantle or Penny. All of which is connected to Salem herself being here, yet Ironwood is our villain instead... We're just introducing new idea after new idea, dropping each to focus on something else when the viewer is already emotionally invested in the last conflict. It makes the show feel overly packed with problems we don't have time for while simultaneously having too much time in which the characters do nothing of importance. We're never dealing with these issues at the right time. Talking about a silver-eyed grimm while Salem is here feels like Too Much and having the girls unpack that now, with Mantle’s life on the line, feels like Too Little. Stop sitting around while you've got less than an hour to save half a kingdom! We needed this conversation in a different episode, one not already driven by a problem that’s objectively more important. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We're in the dining room and the group is listing all the stuff that has gone wrong lately. Blake mentions that Qrow and Robyn are still in custody, because we definitely want Blake remembering that Qrow exists, not one of his nieces. Ruby, meanwhile, is having a meltdown. "So then it's impossible!" she yells, head in her hands. 

Emerald sneaks in an insult: “See? If Ms. Hero here with all the answers doesn’t have one..." and the others, of course, jump to Ruby's aid. But Emerald is right! It's entirely Ruby's fault that Atlas didn't get the chance to escape with those they had. Her actions and lack of a plan led to where they are now. I'm not saying she's responsible for Ironwood's insane decisions — that's like saying he's responsible for Qrow's in relation to Clover — but Ruby indeed played the part of the hero who had all the answers... without actually having any answers. Now that things are worse than how they started, her only answer is to say it's all "impossible" and throw up her hands. Ruby is an absolutely terrible leader right now and someone should indeed be calling her out on that, it's just too bad it's Emerald, someone technically still presented as an untrustworthy figure for the next couple of minutes. (More on that later.) Any and every criticism of Ruby is dismissed out of hand. Don't believe Ironwood because he's crazy now. The Ace Ops? His boot lickers. Yang has things to say, but once Ren agrees with her she does a 180. Now Ren is heading towards an extra special apology for daring to doubt Ruby. May calls her out, only to also change her opinion the next episode. Now here's one more person, but she's a bad guy. The show has never once encouraged us to treat these criticisms seriously — never allowed them to stick, let alone lead to change — and at this point I'm done with everyone falling over themselves to absolve and praise Ruby. By making Emerald the criticizer and having Ruby throw herself a pity party, the writing ensures that the conversation goes from, "Yeah. You messed up big time and now have a responsibility to fix things" to "Aww, don't be so hard on yourself! We won't let mean Emerald insult you anymore."

Ruby makes herself the victim here. She gets so upset and acts so defeated that all anyone can do is reassure her. The focus turns towards her, a focus centered around hiding against the table, or cowering on a staircase, so that it feels cruel to call her out on her deadly mistakes when she's so clearly upset. But they still should have, especially since cowering and tears have never protected anyone else from the group's criticism. Ozpin is proof of that.

What I'm getting at is that Ruby runs away. She's faced with the consequences of her actions, is informed she needs to help come up with a solution, and instead of braving that decides it's "impossible" and literally runs from the room. While they're on a time limit. Keep this moment in mind for just a bit longer. These choices become doubly important later.

So Ruby can't handle the responsibility she violently ripped from others and the group goes out of their way to comfort her in this. Especially since the writing again decides to conflate Emerald and Ozpin through a comment of Oscar's, demonstrating that it still has no decent sense of what "responsibility" or "villainous acts" means. These scenes are three years in the making and every step getting here was dogged with problems, so the fact that the end result is a mess isn't exactly surprising.

We (thankfully) leave Ruby for a bit and instead turn to Jaune. He's amplifying Nora's aura, but admits that he can't get the scars to go away. That makes sense. After all, they're scars. His semblance helps people heal, but at this point Nora has already healed. Those scars are the result of that.

She says it was “Just another ditzy move from Nora” and I'm glad we're acknowledging that, even if it is all framed through the lens of Nora being incorrect in that assumption. Once again, the writing continually makes statements about characters, but fails to have their actions reflect that. Nora wanted to do more than just hit things with her hammer without thinking them through... and we showed that by having her hit a door with her hammer without thinking it through. Was it heroic? Absolutely. Did it lead to any growth? No. I'd much rather someone acknowledge that yeah, she did the same thing she always does, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Nora's impulsivity is a part of her and, given the talk of teammates here, she could have gotten reassurance that she'll always have people around to help her temper those impulses. Instead, we're (again) told that she shouldn't do A anymore, watch her do A anyway, the writing presents it like it’s B, Nora admits that she did A, and everyone rushes to assure her it was actually B. Just let these characters make mistakes for once, especially mistakes made in an effort to help someone. This should be the easiest and kindest way to criticize the group and RWBY can’t even manage that. 

Which brings us to Ren. Ren, I am so sorry. You deserved better than this. Nora rips into him, saying, “We were supposed to be a team, but that didn’t matter to you! You shove people out so you don’t have to feel things that are hard!" and again we have RWBY making grand statements that are meaningless. Did Ren keep things bottled up in Volume 7? Yes... and no one tried to help him with that. Instead, Nora decided to bypass his problems completely and try to kiss it better. When that (shockingly) didn't work, Ren was finally forced to open up at Yang's insistence and was abandoned for his perspective. That's what that was, literally and metaphorically: they walked away from him and made it clear that so long as he believes these things, he's not welcome. What were those things? We've made mistakes, Ruby made mistakes, we're not ready for this stuff. That's it! "We were supposed to be a team" makes it sound like Ren betrayed them in the worst possible way, when in reality all he did was acknowledge that they're imperfect and that things are a mess right now. But of course, that is the ultimate betrayal for this group: acknowledgement that they’re not perfect. Everyone can call themselves out to generate sympathy — Nora does it, Ruby does it  — but as soon as someone else agrees and implies that they should make changes, they’re dismissed. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the refusal to question Ruby makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Is this as bad as Ironwood shooting someone who questions him? Of course not, but that doesn't make it good. The group has made it clear from Ozpin to Ren that if you put a toe out of line, that's it. You're gone. You are not a part of the group until you are willing to back the group 100%, no matter what horrible things they might be up to. That Nora yells at Ren for questioning and Ren learns to keep his mouth shut, apologizing to both her and Jaune for speaking his mind is... well, it's horrible. That's not friendship. I know the fandom doesn't want to hear that given how much we otherwise love these relationships, but it's not. If you can't question and voice concerns without about serious topics like this without the threat of abandonment — literal or otherwise — then that's not a friend group you should be sticking with. Ren’s "biggest failing as a teammate and a partner" is that he didn't agree with the others and didn’t immediately change his mind when they demanded it. There are awful implications attached to that, especially since Ren’s perspective was a good one. He’s not out here slinging horrific views like, I don’t know, homophobia at the bee’s non-relationship. He just went “We made mistakes” and the group responded “Absolutely not. Absurd. Fuck you.” They didn’t even consider that position, which speaks to both a lack of respect for Ren and a level of arrogance that keeps getting them into trouble. But these issues are easily overlooked given everything else that surrounds them. Outside of Ren's apology, I quite liked the renora moment. We got a detail about Nora's backstory! She called Ren pretty! We got an "I love you"! He booped her nose!! It's all very cute and wholesome... and soured by the knowledge of what Ren had to do to get here.

Outside of these generalized responses, there are three other points I wanted to make about this scene:

Yes, more obligatory humor to ruin an otherwise serious moment. Jaune could have just smiled softly and slipped out. Or have him leave before the conversation started (because Ren shouldn't have been apologizing to him in the first place...) Instead, we got multiple seconds of him being awkward, including a bunch of funny sound effects.

I'm legitimately happy we got that "I love you" — outside of the problems since arriving in Atlas, I've always enjoyed the ship — but coming on the heels of last week's episode, it makes the bee's forehead touch look even worse. Renora has been confirmed multiple times at this point, but we still can't get something overt for our one, queer ship.

On the one hand, I really like that Nora set a boundary here — a surprisingly mature conversation for RWBY — but I'm confused as to what exactly the boundary is. She says she needs to figure out who she is without Ren, but what does that translate to on a practical, day-to-day basis? Normally, when a couple needs to figure out who they are they separate, but renora can't do that. They're still on the same team, stuck in the same war, presumably off to do the same things they've always done together. It sounds great on paper to say that Nora is going to discover who she is without Ren, but unless they separate again I don't see how that can happen. More likely, we'll get a volume or two of them looking and acting exactly as they always have, but when it comes time for relationship drama again, Nora will insist she's a different person who is now ready to be with him. That she's changed. But change requires, you know, making a change, so is renora actually going to look any different moving forward?

While these two confess their love but also decide to be separate (is that what happened?), Qrow and Robyn have knocked out some guards and retrieved their weapons. Robyn watches four security feeds, whispering, "He's... really gonna do it." See? Even Robyn, someone who never liked Ironwood and considered him dangerous from the start, is in shock that he would go this far. Qrow doesn't want to talk moral downfalls though, he's all action: "Not if we stop him first."

You know, at least Qrow is doing something. What he's doing is stupid, particularly given his motivations, but with the volume we've had I give him props for coming up with a plan and sticking to it. That's more than many of the others have done.

Yet then, suddenly, Robyn doesn't want to kill Ironwood. ...Since when? Robyn has been the most trigger happy of the lot while Qrow initially wanted to talk. Now they've switched places for no reason I can see, with Qrow all murder happy and Robyn cautioning restraint. Which admittedly isn't uncommon. Remember how Nora was all about protecting Mantle and then randomly decided to help with Amity instead? Remember how Yang was critical of Ruby and then decided to defend her to Ren? Remember how Hazel was pro-Salem until he saw a blue naked lady and decided to defect? At this point, characters just do things at random.

Robyn says that Qrow isn't trying to kill Ironwood because that's the right thing to do, only because he wants revenge. A true enough assessment. But then she follows it up by claiming that Qrow is a better huntsmen than Clover because he does the right thing. Without rehashing all my arguments regarding how Clover was not the devil incarnate for refusing to let two potential criminals walk free — especially after they attacked him — we're really playing the dead guy card now? Clover was murdered. Robyn and Qrow were participants in that murder. Now Robyn is making sweeping claims about who is the better person when Clover quite obviously isn't here to defend himself? That's all kinds of messed up.

Before they can bash the dead guy anymore though the elevator arrives. We see Qrow and Robyn's shocked expressions at whoever is behind the doors, presumably Winter and Marrow. It seems likely that Winter didn't really intend to take him to the brig. They're defecting and have now found two more allies to help them. Robyn wants a plan other than run upstairs and stab Ironwood? Winter will likely provide one.

We return to Ruby who, as established, is wallowing in the most dramatic position on the staircase. Obviously things are legitimately horrible right now and if Ruby had been given a storyline different from what we've seen since Volume 6, I'd feel sorry for her. As it stands, it's just frustrating to watch her look like the maiden of a Victorian novel while Mantle's time ticks away. 

The conversation between her and Yang is great though. At least, it is for the first few sentences. I love that the show remembered they're sisters and have them talking again. I love that Yang tries to cheer Ruby up by saying she outshines her big sis in regards to the Hound. I love that she nevertheless acknowledges that the Schnees were a part of that defeat, giving them their due rather than putting all the praise on Ruby. We establish that Yang has learned what the Hound really was. This conversation is going strong...

...but then.

"That's what happened to mom."

Really? Really? In eight episodes we went from, "Lol just because the Hound spoke doesn't mean Summer was secretly made into a grimm. That’s a crazy theory" to "Summer was absolutely turned into a grimm. That's canon now!" Except because it was made canon by Ruby just announcing it one day, we can expect for an even bigger "twist" in the future: Summer is still alive. Why wouldn't she be? The Hound was untouchable outside of silver eyes, so we have little reason to think anyone has defeated her in the last 14 odd years.

I'll admit the timeline works out better than expected (I think) with Salem killing SEWs during Maria's time before switching to experimentation, but there's no emotional weight to this. I just don't care and frankly I don't think the fandom cares either. Oh, there's plenty of excitement over the reveal, but that's all for the version of Summer Rose people have built up in their minds for the last eight years, not anything that exists in the show. If you strip away all the headcanons and fics, Summer isn't interesting because she barely exists. We know nothing about her as a person and therefore we have no reason to care that she's likely another Hound. Worse — because maybe this could be smoothed over if we just care since Ruby cares — everything else surrounding this reveal was badly done. Summer, as said, has been a non-character for this whole series. Yang only just remembered two episodes ago that Summer is her mom too. The only evidence of experimentation we've seen is on other grimm, not people. There was more mystery surrounding why Tyrian was interested in Jaune, not why he'd kidnap Ruby (Big Bads always want to kidnap heroes). We have no idea who this silver eyed faunus was. We have no idea why Salem would randomly start experimenting when she doesn't need additional weapons. We don't know why she would keep these weapons to the sidelines when she’s apparently had them for over a decade. I don't even buy that Ruby, someone who we never see thinking about or questioning any of this, suddenly put all these pieces together to hit on the revelation. 

None of this adds up because it wasn't planned. Summer was dead, added to the series purely because having a dead mom is interesting, and she was treated as dead for seven years. Not just by the characters, by the show. Then, suddenly, the narrative raced to remind everyone that she's supposedly a Very Important Character so we could get this twist. It’s awful. Not because the idea itself is horrible, but because it was shoved into a story that wasn't prepared for it and certainly doesn't need it. The group has Salem herself attacking the kingdom, Ironwood threatening destruction, three Relics still to discover, not to mention all the other personal conflicts going on — Emerald walking around the mansion, Ozpin is back, Penny is being controlled, Oscar has finite magic now, Nora is still recovering — but we're going to introduce another subplot to deal with? RWBY acts like it's terrified that if it doesn't add something new and flashy every third episode, its viewers will jump ship. Despite its hiccups, there's a reason why the arcs of Volume 4 worked well overall: characters were given the time to explore specific problems, like Yang's PTSD and the destruction of Ren's village. Now, in episode 11 of 14, RWBY reveals that two of the characters' mom was turned into a literal monster, but there's only time for a tiny bit of comfort because Penny is escaping and they have less than an hour now to save Mantle. There is way too much going on and we're not devoting enough time to any of it.

Hell, even the conversation can't afford to stay on the Summer reveal for more than a few sentences. Ruby segues back to her self-chastisement, saying that she wasted time on Amity. She did, but not because people didn't come. She never should have made that terrifying, nonsensical announcement to begin with. But just like Ruby never thought through the pros and cons of telling the world about Salem, she apparently never thought about the logistics of getting help. She's written the world off now — so you just know help will appear in the finale — yet she never considered how long all this would take. Our timeline is (supposedly) two days, so how long would it take a kingdom to digest the information she gave them, decide on a course of action, get people and resources together, then fly all the way to Atlas? After Ruby used most of the first day just to send the message? As I and others have pointed out, the answer is “way longer than the group has.” It shouldn't be possible, yet neither Ruby nor Yang realizes basic facts like, "What's the flight time between Vacuo and Atlas?" Like Qrow blaming his semblance rather than his decision to team up with Tyrian, Ruby blames the world for abandoning them rather than her terribly thought out plan. Both have reached the right emotion — regret — but not for the right reasons.

Also, Ruby says that Amity fell. Are Pietro and Maria okay??

Yang talks about blind optimism vs. no optimism at all, something I could really get behind if the group hadn't been governed by blind optimism this whole time. Also if what the rest of what Yang said made sense. She fires back with, “And in case you didn’t notice, my plan for Mantle didn’t work either." Uh... what plan? As far as I recall there was no plan. They just went down to do any tasks that needed doing: supply runs and grimm killings. What plan is Yang talking about?

This conversation is a disaster. We circle back around to Summer with Yang saying she also took a risk (the title is very obvious this episode) but "she's still my hero." Is she? Because the only thing you've ever said about Summer is that she baked great cookies. Regardless, Yang lays her head on Ruby's shoulder and they cry some more.

Then Jaune hurries down the steps because Penny has woken up and broken through a window.

Again: how were they planning to deal with this? Did anyone discuss it? Because it looks like Klein said, "Hey, that friend of yours powered up and could have hurt us," Nora said, "Hey, Penny was fighting some sort of control," and Whitely said, "Yeah, she wanted to open the vault and then self destruct" and everyone just left her alone in some room, deciding they'd worry about that later. If Penny had just snuck out a little more quietly the group would have been screwed.

What I do like though is the teamwork to keep Penny from flying off. It feels like we get so little teamwork nowadays, which makes everyone piling on others' range weapons, or Jaune boosting Weiss' glyphs, really enjoyable. Even Emerald gets in on the action because apparently they gave her her weapons back! 

We're going to talk about this nonsense in a second.

For now, Ruby implores Penny to fight it, which is exactly what I said we'd get. Penny insists Ruby kill her though, saying that if she does she'll ensure that the power passes to her. I find this to be a weird priority. Does the group really care about who gets the Maiden powers right now? The threat here is that Penny will successfully open the vault — which shouldn't even be that much of a worry. Just let Ironwood leave instead of trying to destroy Mantle! Keeping him here has made things worse! — and that Penny will self-destruct. That feels like the biggest worry: that Penny will die. So they're going to prevent her death by... killing her themselves? Priorities and motivations really feel shaky this week.

Luckily, Ruby remembers that Penny is A Real Person and tells Jaune to amplify her aura. The fact that she has a soul keeps the virus from overtaking her. Hurray!

That's like saying my sense of self will beat off rabies. Just believe that you're your own person and nothing can touch you. They go so far as to say, “That’s who you are. Our friend, not a machine” and that feels like such an erasure to me. Penny is a machine. She is! And that was great back when this was accepted as a good thing, not something to ignore. Remember this?

You think just because you've got nuts and bolts instead of squishy guts makes you any less real than me?

Here, Ruby acknowledges Penny's difference and reaffirms that she still has worth. Now, the group denies Penny's difference in order to prove that she has worth. She has worth because she's supposedly not a machine and supposedly can't be controlled like one... even though she is a machine and is being controlled. It's only Jaune's semblance that keeps her from going under again. The concept of Penny's personhood is now connected to her ability to resist a machine-based virus and she has failed to do that. This doesn't confirm Penny's humanity, it tells Penny (and us) that humanity is distinct from the machine parts of her, rather than a concept that includes it, and the moment she is too influenced by that machinery she ceases to be a person. The group isn't accepting her here, they're encouraging Penny to ignore and deny the parts that make her Penny.

If you want an example of how to do an arc like this far, far better, go watch The Next Generation with Data. He's what Penny could have been.

Regardless, the virus has been held at bay, at least so long as Jaune has aura. Which seems to be endless given that he was exhausting himself in the whale, but is now boosting Nora, Weiss, and Penny without any difficulty.

At least that's a minor concern in the grand scheme of things. What we're about to get? Not so much. Honestly, I'm 7k into this recap and I just don't have the energy that these two scenes deserve. Which scenes? The one where Emerald is welcomed into the fold with laughter and Ozpin has to grovel for forgiveness.

Emerald first. Last week I said:

“However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you, [Emerald.]” That’s it then. Discussion over. We knew as soon as it started that blindly trusting her was being presented as the “right” thing to do and now here we are, deciding that conclusively, despite Jaune and Yang’s complaints. By the time the group reaches the mansion, Oscar is defending Emerald from Ruby. We’re supposed to just accept that she’s a part of the group now, only minimal pushback allowed.

and I was right. Over the course of the last week I spoke with a number of friends, many of them working under the belief that this was just the start of an arc for Emerald. Obviously the show wouldn't instantly have the group trust her after all this. They'll need to warm up to her first. She'll need to prove herself. Well, I was far more pessimistic, arguing instead that I thought this was it. She was already being presented as a perfectly trustworthy figure. I'd briefly thought I'd been mistaken when the group turned on Emerald for her comment to Ruby, but then suddenly she's been given her weapons back. It's not even a matter of "You should be able to defend yourself, but you're still not trustworthy" (which would still have problems, but). No, she makes a comment about "switching sides" and that's it, trust achieved. That's all it took — nothing at all.

Now, some shows do function on a second chance policy. We can name hundred of stories where heroes instantly forgive antagonists and there's nothing wrong with that. The problem is that RWBY is very much not that show. In the exact same scene Ozpin apologizes to the group and begs that they try to trust him again:

“I’ve failed all of you. I should have trusted you with the truth and I should never have run the day you discovered it."

This is complete and utter bullshit. Sorry, I'm not mincing words for this one. Two years we waiting for the group to come around, hoping that there would be apologies on both sides, but there wasn't. The group doesn't physically or verbally hurt Ozpin anymore — they do accept his request — but it's done with expressions that say this is what they are owed. You’d better apologize.

I could rehash all the arguments I've already made about how atrociously they treated him, how Ozpin had no reason to trust a bunch of teenagers, how important it was that both sides admit their mistakes, but if you're reading this recap you're likely already familiar with all that. Rather, what I want to emphasize here is that our opinions on Ozpin don't even matter here. Even those who take his apology at face value — fully believing he did fail them, he should have told them everything from the start, and that him leaving was "running away" rather than being driven off — even if we accept for just a moment that Ozpin is as guilty as the show says and heinous as the fandom claims... surely he's not as bad as Emerald? In roughly chronological order she has:

Tried to ally herself with Adam along with Cinder and Mercury

Helped to attack Amber, resulting in injuries that would have killed her if Cinder hadn't gotten to her first

Helped kill Tukson

Pretended to be a transfer student and Ruby's friend for the rest of the semester (that’s a lie that would breed mistrust)

Tricked the world into thinking that Yang had attacked Mercury unprovoked

Uses her semblance on Pyrrha, causing her to unintentionally kill Penny

All of this was in service of the Fall of Beacon, an event that destroyed a school, killed an unknown number of students, killed Pyrrha, and lost Yang her arm

Participated in the attack on Haven which, beyond the intent to further Salem's goals, nearly got Weiss killed

Came to Atlas to assist in the next attack

Went after Penny, Pietro, and Maria — two of whom might still be in trouble depending on if Amity literally fell out of the sky 

Listened to Oscar being tortured, hemming and hawing for a while before realizing that, if the whole world is in danger, she's in danger too

Finally jumped ship

Emerald is one of the bad guys. All the sad looks over the years doesn't change that. Yet somehow an antagonist we've had since Volume 1 is considered more trustworthy than Ozpin, a man who hasn't intentionally helped kill their friends and who has been helping and apologizing for months now.

Yang "Aww"s when Emerald speaks. Just sit with that for a second. The woman who went through all of that horror because of Emerald, who just last episode was correctly saying they can't expect her to forget all that, is going "Aww" after... Emerald helped hold Penny for two seconds? This is ridiculous. These are the faces of the group when talking about Emerald's trust

whereas these are their expressions when talking about Ozpin's

It’s not a matter of who deserves trust or not, here it’s purely a matter of comparison. Emerald should not be more quickly forgiven than Ozpin. 

Now toss in the story Ozpin tells. Unsurprisingly, it's another fairy tale — we've gotten a little heavy-handed lately — about a young girl who flees the consequences of a choice and, having never learned from her initial failure, spreads even more trouble. That's Ruby. That is Ruby to a T in this episode and the last three volumes. She is literally a young girl who has caused staggering consequences, literally ran away from the conversation about those consequences, and is now poised to continue making those mistakes because everyone keeps reinforcing her flaws. That's Ruby, yet somehow the show thinks it's Ozpin. He positions himself as the young girl here, as if he didn't face his consequences generations ago when he left the cabin, didn't learn from his mistakes by keeping Salem's secret, and hadn't been driven away by the very people he's asking for a second chance. This scene has everything backwards and while normally I'd grab hold of the possibility that maybe things will right themselves later on... we're done. This is the ending of that arc. After two years of saying, "Maybe, maybe, maybe," Ozpin has been taken back into the fold after begging his way back in. There's no more time to correct things. RWBY missed its chance. Weiss says that "Trust is a risk" and that's how Ozpin is forgiven. They have taken the risk of trusting him again after months of reflection, life-saving actions, and apologies. Emerald is granted the risk of trust in under an hour. I’ve heard so many people say they’re dropping RWBY this volume and scenes like this are precisely why. 

Ugh. Heavy stuff, folks! I feel like I need to lighten the mood. Here, let's take a moment to acknowledge that the Schnees and Klein only marginally know what's happening.

Someone help them.

That is, to all intents and purposes, the end of our episode. Ruby has some sort of epiphany about actually handing Penny over — "That's actually a risk we haven't considered" — and Ironwood will no doubt fall for whatever plan they've concocted because he's stupid now. He receives a call from Ruby saying they agree to his terms, Watts is attempting to get communication of his own up and running, and Neo arrives to do... whatever she intends to do. Idk, I have assumed she wanted Ruby, but Cinder obviously doesn't have her yet for a trade off. Regardless, Neo is ready for a fight while Cinder just smiles. Team up 2.0?

As for bingo, I'm using my free space for "Worst redemption arc I've ever seen," with an honorary nod to Hazel too, and Ozpin's square gets blacked out in exes because that was just #bad.

This bingo board is a mess. Appropriate lol 

Three more weeks, everyone. Hang in there! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby risk #mymetas #rwby recaps

[cesabutterflywrites]

The Duke of the Bay: Part 8

[Spotify Playlist] [Youtube Playlist]

First Part, Ao3 Link, Next Part (Coming Soon)

Story Warnings: Guns, threats, alcohol, violence homosexual slang used pejoratively and positively, internalized homophobia, ask me to add any if need be

Chapter Warnings:   This is a heavy chapter. Violence is only implied, but the implications have a heavy impact. Read with caution.

Chapter Word Count:    3839

Summary: Patton O’Hearty was a great detective. Most people didn’t take him for one at first glance, especially when he dressed casual. He was abnormally chipper; he thought everything was the cat’s pajamas. He had a smile for everyone he met. He was always tipping his hat at the dames and gents when he walked the streets of the Bay Area.

The only person he could never catch was the leader of the planted mob in Emeryville, nicknamed The Duke. The Duke was good at hiding his dealings and joints well, and he rarely had a snitch in his ranks. The few who tried, well, somehow they disappeared before they could give the police any substantial information. He was well hidden, but popular among the residents of the town. People talked boldly of his rambunctious parties, never revealing the locations though. He was hard to catch, to say the least.

So what happens, when instead, the detective is the one that’s caught?

-

The dawn came as it always did- a soft gray and orange haze streaking in with the marine layer over the water of the San Francisco Bay. Roman de Rossi had a lovely view of it from his family mansion on San Pablo Avenue. A mansion that felt too big lately, with too high of a price to keep. 

 Roman rolled over to get out of bed when he bumped into something hard and stiff. His heart skipped a beat when he heard his wife cry out. 

“Jeeze, Ro, trying to be the first at the breakfast table again?” Rosalie’s voice was gruff. She rubbed the spot on her back where Roman had bumped. “I already got one slugger goin’ for my kidneys.” 

Roman rolled his eyes, though he was relieved he hadn’t hurt Rosalie. “Rose, why aren’t you in your bed?” 

 “Because I needed the warmth and comfort of my husband.” she mumbled sarcastically into her pillow, already on her way back to sleep. 

 All exhausted bitterness left him at the sound of her snores. At the beginning of their marriage it had been incredibly overbearing for him-to the point they shared separate beds- but with the rising threat of the gangs, he never knew when he’d see the last of his wife. After yesterday, there wasn’t even a certainty that he’d make it to see the birth of his twins. 

 Carefully, with a hesitation that seemed to become all-too-familiar, he rested his hand on Rosalie’s belly that was under his blanket. Rosalie hummed in response, but kept her eyes closed still. Roman tried to feel for any movement from the twins, but they didn’t. He tried to think that it was because they were also sleeping. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time he tried to feel for their movement he would get nothing. He ignored the tightness in his throat, he disregarded the burning tears, and prayed to God silently that he would make it through this trying time long enough to at least hold his children once. 

 The thought was an unwelcome intrusion since that fateful telegram from the Duke’s right hand man two months before. Shoving the bitter memory of that message aside, he got himself ready in the dark with a swiftness, already wanting the day to be done. He couldn’t tell whether his need to stay home was due to his anxieties of being a father, his weariness of  having more caseloads of rising crime, or his paranoia about criminal eyes spying on him. He watched his large wife turn about in her sleep as he dressed; she was unable to find a comfortable position. He couldn't blame her. Something he wished he’d have considered before the pregnancy was getting a large family bed so they could share it. Even if she snored like a boozed up bear. 

 A lock of her thick black hair fell out of it’s wrap and was caught in the light from the hallway behind him. Her lips were pushed out in a half pout, half pucker. The gown she was wearing was a large blue cotton dress with flowing sleeves. Her eyes were closed, not restful, but crinkled under her worried brows. Her face had gotten wider in her pregnancy. Her cheeks were flushed with red with elevated temperature from the warm room. She moved her hand to hold under her head as she laid on her side, facing Roman and the door. 

 She was beautiful, and Roman took this moment to appreciate her beauty, for he didn't know if this was the last time he would see her. He’d never know from now on. 

 "I can feel ya starin', darling husband," her teasing tone was muffled by the pillow and her sleepiness. "Get to work so I can sleep." 

 He quietly leaned over her, just as he always did, and kissed her. 

 He’d never know that his tired wife had noticed the despair in the extra moments their lips were met. 

 “Send for someone right away if anything happens, alright dear?” he asked while brushing a stray curl aside. 

 “Sure thing honey…”

 His walk to work was dim in the early morning as the fog was thick as wool. The only light guiding his way was a soft orange desperately clinging to the lampposts. The fog was dense with the promise of the coming autumn season for next month. It wasn’t smart of him to have left so early. There was no one on the street. No vagrants, no Jezebels, and no wayward orphans. Just him, the mist, and the sound of his shoes on moist stones. Still, just because he couldn't see anyone, it didn't mean that he didn't feel like he was being watched with eyes capable of seeing through all sorts of darkness. 

 It was soon enough in his hurry that he made it to the precinct. He ran his hand through his somewhat damp hair as he took his hat off at the entrance. He was early, earlier than normal, and the shift-changing deputies milling about by the entrance desk stood up straighter when they saw him. 

 “Hey, Cap’n. How’s the missus? Ready to burst just yet?” the old man at the desk asked. His name was Reggie, and if you called him a secretary you’d get a busted lip. He was the nicest-and oldest- member of the force. 

 “Oh, she’s fine. Doc says it’s gonna be any day now ‘til they’re here. I think she’s more excited than I am for it to be over. She’s been complaining about her feet being so swollen she can barely stand,” Roman laughed. The use of the word ‘complain’ was only polite. Rosalie’s ‘complaints’ about her pregnancy would make sailors blush. 

 Reggie guffawed. “Yeah, I remember when Ethel had her first. She was cursing so bad near the end you’d think she was a drunken sailor in a brig!” 

 “Women have a way with words, don’t they Reg?” Roman commented as he made his way around the desk. He wasn’t really waiting for an answer as he kept walking away. 

 Reggie must have been in a nice mood, since he didn’t point out the Captain’s distracted behavior as he walked off. Roman appreciated that. He was already in deep enough trouble with his reputation as a younger force captain. 

 Roman was grateful that he was going to be able to take some leave soon. He didn’t like being away from his pregnant wife all day. Especially now, with everything so changed. He sat down in his rolling chair with the force of a thousand anvils. He opened the folder on his desk, knowing there’d be no change in it since the last time he filled it a month ago with the ‘tip’ Logan and Patton got.

 Case Number: 103625 - Open - “The Duke” 

 He sighed to himself as a heavy headache formed behind his eyes. It was a new day, which meant new trouble, which meant he seriously needed some coffee. He reached for his announcer when- 

 “Captain, there’s a visitor here for ya.” A fresh faced rookie announced while walking into the office. His voice was a bit too anxious-to-please for the captain’s liking in the morning . 

 Roman’s voice imitated distant thunder - a warning, a looming threat - “Haven’t you heard of knocking, boy?” 

 The young man was smart enough to appear embarrassed. “I apologize, sir.” He stood at attention as he had been trained to do. His badge gleamed in the light of the office as his chest puffed out.

 Roman felt guilty for snapping at him. He didn’t want to be an angry, bitter leader, like his predecessor. Or like his father had been. Those old men were so hardened by stress that they felt no regard for those beneath them. He refused to be that way, no matter what.  So he forced his body to relax as he imagined the darkness in his heart being swept under the new rug of his office. 

 “I understand. I was a rookie like you once upon a time. What seems to be the trouble?” Roman forced a smile on his face, as though it was drying cement to keep in place.

 “You’ve got a guy saying he’s here for a meeting, a...Mr. Doris? Fella has a scar right here on his face." The officer took his finger and motioned on his face as an indicator of his description. Obviously the young man’s mind was wandering to stories about the nastiest criminals known to man. 

 Roman nodded, cleared his throat, then told him, "Bring him in." 

 The young officer disappeared, and in one breath the enemy had walked through the office door as if he owned the place. Roman sighed in defeat. It wasn’t ‘as if’ he owned the place, it was that he practically did. Especially now that the detectives weren’t ever going to ‘catch’ the bad guys like they should have ages ago.

 “What brings you in so early, Mr. Doris?” Roman asked. He stood up, smoothed down his tie, and held his hand out to shake his visitor’s gloved hand.  

 The visitor smirked. “I like the new you, Roman. Straight to the punch without any frivolous small talk. Such a change from the last time we had spoken.” 

 The memory sat between them. A smoked out room, sweaty foreheads, two guns between two young men, a kiss- a stalemate. 

 Roman gulped down the anxious sensation and forced himself to speak. “Well, I haven’t had any coffee yet, so I’m not feeling patient enough for chit chat.” 

 Mr. Doris’ laughter sent chills down Roman’s spine. His voice was dry and raspy, like a lizard. “I see. Well, the good news is that your two lead detectives are good at their jobs.” He slammed his fist down onto the desk as his eyes peered into Roman’s. “The bad news is, they’re so good at their job, even you don’t control them anymore.” 

 “That’s not true!” Roman exploded. The force of his anger pushed him out of his seat so he was practically nose to nose with his guest. “I just suspended Logan Smith for admitting he’s working with one of your men! Detective O’Hearty is too personable to be focused on investigating your precious boss! Hell, he’s probably going to be too busy sidetracked into chasing wild geese from that stunt Logan pulled. And another thing-” 

 “That’s enough, Roman.” Mr. Doris covered Roman’s mouth with one of his gloved hands. “You’ve told me all I needed to know.” 

 It’s too easy to play you, dear Roman, Doris thought to himself. I knew something was up with Virgil Vitale. He couldn’t keep the grin off of his face at the thought of finally teaching the little punk a lesson. 

 Roman shook the hand off of his mouth. His breath was shaky. “What do you mean?” 

 “Oh, I won’t tell you, dear,” Mr. Doris hummed. He walked to the doorway without any explanation. It was time to take business into his own hands after all. No more time to waste. “I’ve gotta run. Say hi to the missus for me.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure the unspoken threat hit its target. 

 Roman was left standing in that position. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His hair laid out of control around his face, his heart pounding, and the sense of impending doom- as if he just sentenced an innocent man to death. 

 ----------

 Alice woke up to the sound of the radio downstairs playing some German concerto. It was a slow morning for once. She hummed to herself, pleased that she was able to wake up slowly to beautiful music as opposed to the sound of harsh knocking at her door. Yet as she turned over in bed her peace was interrupted by the brightness of the sun shining through the window. She groaned at the disruption to her dreamy haze. 

 Alice hefted herself out of the large bed and made herself to the large vanity-much nicer than the one at her apartment- and started working on her hair. Once she was done making sure she looked presentable she made her way down the grand staircase to meet Logan wherever he was at. Which, knowing how large the house was, meant that it could be a proper while before she would find him. 

 The smell of sizzled meat wafted through the large hallways. Instead of looking for Logan, she decided to make her way towards the dining room from the night before. It’s rude to check in and hover over a cook’s shoulder, she reckoned. No matter how curious it was to her that Logan didn’t have any help at all. 

 The moment she sat down she heard the door from the kitchen open.  Logan was pushing a dining cart forward on his own. He had a white rag placed over his shoulder and a stained white apron tied around his waist. He was whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself as he set out the platters in front of Alice. She couldn’t help but laugh. She was enjoying this bright version of the detective. 

 “What’s the occasion, detective?” Alice asked once he sat down with her. 

 Logan struggled to hide a sheepish grin, “It’s just been a long while since I’ve had any sort of company over. I don’t get to go out much with my line of work.” 

 “Aw, didn’t wanna bring any wayward souls home for Christmas?” she teased. 

 Logan rolled his eyes at her. It was good that he was loosening up around her humor. Alice wondered if she could get away with cursing around him yet, but decided not to push her luck, given that they had a long day ahead of them. 

 “It’s gotta be more than me, come on.” Alice waggled her eyebrows at him. “What’s with the shift in the wind?” 

 Logan ignored her prompts. Instead, he lowered his head. Alice rushed to set her fork down so she could follow suit. 

 “Father God, I ask that you bless this food and those who consume it. We thank you for providing for us. We ask for you to sustain our spirits as well as our bodies. I ask that you help us in all of our endeavors today, and I thank you for bringing me someone to share this meal with. Thank you for providing me such youthful company. Amen.” 

 “Amen.” Alice echoed. She tried to keep her questions to herself. Logan’s prayer wasn’t one she had ever heard before. 

 Alice lifted the cover to reveal her breakfast. There was sausage, eggs, and toast with powdered sugar. It smelled amazing. 

 “Thank you, Logan, this looks delicious.” She immediately went for the eggs. It had been so long since she’d had eggs for breakfast. Not since she left her farm home nearly two years ago. 

 They sat at the table with only the sounds of the radio in the living room occasionally drifting in through the doors. Alice was enjoying her meal so much, she jumped when she heard the fancy telephone in the hallway ringing. 

 “Excuse me, Alice.” Logan muttered. He wiped his hands on his apron and swiftly walked on his long legs to the hallway. 

 It was irritating, being called in the morning. Especially when his meal was being interrupted. He lifted the earpiece off of the ringing box and greeted the operator quickly. Who would be calling him now that he’s suspended? 

 “Logan? Is this Logan Smith?” a partially familiar feminine voice asked over the receiver. 

“Yes. Who is this?” 

 Her words were spoken in rushes with pauses sounding like heavy breathing. “It’s Rosalie...Rosalie de Rossi.-” she took in a deep breath ”-I’m your captain’s wife!” After that she let out a bone-chilling moan. 

 The captain’s wife? He had only met her once at the Independence Day party at the Captain’s new mansion. Why was she calling someone like him? 

 The woman on the line hissed. “God fucking dammit! It hurts!” 

 “What hurts? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Logan threw his questions at her quickly as he reached for his notepad. 

 “My my,” a slick, whiskey smooth, masculine voice answered. He tutted. “Not very clever, Detective Smith.” 

 “Where is Mrs. de Rossi?” Logan asked. He felt as if the air around him was heavier. There was a weight settling into his chest. He ignored the familiar sensations and made a note that someone else had taken the line. 

 “She’s still alive. And she will stay that way, if you do everything I ask.” The man’s words were drawn out. Almost as if he were bored, or stalling. 

 “What do you want?” Logan hissed. The million questions he had were shoved aside when the man answered. 

 “I want your lover, Detective. Bring that filthy, grimy, Italian punk to the fisherman’s market in San Francisco after dark. Or I’ll just have to do something to your boss’ beautiful broodmare.” The voice chuckled at his sick comment. 

 This man was evil. The most evil he'd ever come across. Logan felt like he was going to topple over. “What makes you think I’ll come alone? That I won’t go straight to the captain?” 

 Laughter as dark as water at midnight bled through the receiver. “Oh Mr. Smith, that’s what I want. Give me a reason to pluck those sweet babies out of his missus.” 

 Logan heard a scream in the background. A string of curse words that he didn’t doubt were justified. 

 “Please don’t hurt her. Be reasonable. Why did you call me? I’m on suspension, I don’t have access to the resources-” 

 “Because your lover's family declared war, my boy!” the man roared. Logan identified his accent-Irish, or Scottish perhaps. “I’m going to get what I need outta him. So lock your brunette bitch away, grab your buddy and your faggot, and get your ass to my docks when the sun sets. Or-” another blood curdling scream from the woman in the background “-the captain’s dear wife and her babies drown.” 

 Just like that, the phone call ended. Logan didn’t have time to stand in the shock. Instinctive training responses immediately took over his body. He didn’t go back to the dining room and instead ran to get himself dressed. No other thoughts intruded. His head was empty of everything other than the fact that he needed backup. 

 He needed Patton. He needed to gather his resources. It was still nine in the morning. He had maybe eight hours before it was sunset, then two hours to cross the bay into San Francisco to the fisherman’s market. His mind was fixated on trying to create the quickest itinerary possible and how to notify the captain without the mysterious caller knowing. He seemed to know much more than Logan was comfortable with. 

 Logan was tying his shoes as he thought. He hadn’t told anyone about the night with Virgil. No one knew. He figured Alice may have suspected, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone. Not that she would. She was just a kid. She was just caught up in all of this business out of desperation and survival. Alice was just a pawn in a twisted game. She wasn’t a main player. 

 Patton was too wrapped up in his obsession with the Duke to even notice. Still, he was very angry towards Logan now that he knew Virgil was involved. Who knows what the captain and Patton talked about after Logan was dismissed. He remembered the knowing look at the Lion’s Den last month. His partner said then that he accepted everybody. Could he have been saying that to blend in? 

 Then there was the fact that this was the captain’s wife. Why kidnap her to get to Logan? He didn’t know the woman at all, only that the captain loved her very much. She was pregnant when they had met, and from the sound of the call she still was. 

 “Logan, where are you going?” Alice asked from the doorway of his bedroom. 

 “There’s an emergency. I need to go.” He pushed himself past her and rushed down the staircase. “Please stay here. Don’t leave.”

“Will Virgil be back to nanny me again?” she asked indignantly. 

 The question struck him through the heart. He couldn’t leave her unattended. She was defenseless here. The Duke's men could come looking for her. No doubt one of them was behind this in the first place as a way to distract them.

 “No. No, I-” he turned to her. “There’s trouble. I need to move you somewhere safer. You can’t be alone.” 

 Alice’s face seemed to grow ten years older. “I understand. Let’s go.” 

 They both grabbed their hats from the hook and walked out the door. Logan made his way to his car without another word. Alice felt in her gut that they were running into something more dangerous than she had ever known. 

 “Where are we going?” Alice asked after climbing into the carriage seat. Logan saw that she had withdrawn into herself. The silly child that he was starting to get introduced to had left her body. 

 “To Patton’s. I don’t think he’ll have left yet. We need his help.” Logan pulled out onto the street. “I’ll tell you on the way.” 

 Before the pair had shown up to Patton’s house, he had just drank his coffee. He didn’t need to go into the station today. All of his caseloads were closed except for one. Today was a day of regrouping and hitting the pavement. It was time for some good old fashioned talking to people again. The best way to find someone was to ask their friends or neighbors politely. Give them a smile and such. 

 He took his time getting ready. Trying to find the man that he used to be before this craziness started. The man who was able to walk down the street with faith in his heart. The detective who could solve everything with the right words someone needed to hear. That man was nowhere to be found as he pulled clothes from his closet. 

 It was a new day. He knew he would make progress today. No one was going to get the drop on him again. 

 When he sat down in his armchair his eye was caught on something on the end table. A piece of paper that didn’t seem to be from any of his  notepads. It wasn’t there when he had gone to bed the night before. 

 A familiar delicious thrill rushed through his body. Part of him thought to call on the locksmith soon, though it might not do much good. Carefully, as if the note were an explosive and not a simple message, he lifted the paper. 

 It was no simple message. 

 You’re in danger, dear detective. There are worse evils than I. Don’t do what your colleague asks. Come to me at the Lion’s Den instead. -The Duke

 Before he had time to react, there was rapid knocking at his door.

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A/N:

Hello there! It's been nearly a year. There's a reason for that.

I work very, very hard when it comes to my stories. This one has a very important place in my heart. I had to take a break from it because the last thing I wanted to do was make rush decisions or half-ass everything.

In doing so, it meant that I had to wait until I had the time to give it the attention it deserves. I recently had a lot of my life change this past year, mostly losing loved ones. So this fic didn't get much of it's deserved time at once.

That being said, I swear this has a direction. While a lot of it is up to interpretation, this has a very direct sequence of events. That's why it's important for me to be able to pay extra attention.

That being said, I'm making a new normal. This fic goal is to be updated every 3 months, maybe less. My practice is to edit 3 times at least before I post.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter. Tell me your theories about what will happen next! I love talking about this story with anyone who will listen.

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taglist: @deceits-left-glove 

let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this or any other ship/story

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#intruality #romantic intruality #intruality endgame #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #intruality angst #patton angst #remus angst #logan angst #janus angst #roman angst #virgil angst #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders side fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #multi chapter #Mob AU #Human AU #1920s AU #The Duke of the Bay AU #The Duke of the Bay Part 8 #Mama Cesa writes #implied violence #angst #enemies to lovers

[youwontlikethisblog]

Betty! My Betty.

Two post in a day, or window of twenty four hours!

Finally we make it to the day of the new collection launch.

Now in the previous post I wrote I made note that we had established that Armando trusted, unwavering, Betty. He knew of her fidelity and trusted her for it.

He questioned her but, by the time she leaves he quits his show of being mad at her and asked Mario what he thought of what she had said.

Now I want to add some points here that discribe and prove my theory that Armando was already having feelings outside of work related feelings towards Betty.

1) When Mario tells Armando that Marcela has no idea who she's talking to we know he means that Betty is the owner of Eco Moda, therefore she shouldn't be yelling at her but Armando thinks otherwise as he tells him "I know! She's my guardian angel!" which once more proves that Armando wasn't mistrusting of Betty and his concern was with how Betty treats him and how she is with him, unconditional.

2) When Mario starts with his paranoia again Armando defends her, defends his trust, and lets us all know that he would never doubt Betty nor her unconditionality and fidelity.

3) That day Armando behaved differently towards Betty.

We've all at some point in middle or high school gone to google and searched "how to tell that he likes me." and the very obvious answers in every post is that he finds excuses to be near you, finds excuses to touch you, blah blah blah, and very cliché this begins to happen. I already had my theory that as the show progressed to this point of the story that Armando found excuses to touch Betty such as when he starts to rub her shoulders as he is telling her that he's very aware of her loyalty and all she does for him, hugging her, to then asking her to stay in meetings, being confused when she doesn't sit next to him whereas before Betty could sit anywhere in the meeting room that wasn't near him (don't quote me on this I didn't pay much attention to the first few episodes because I was zoned out most of the time)and he didn't care. During the business with Macro Textil he was leaning towards her as they discussed with Ms. Colombia and the guy incharge of sells. Which I already talked about this in another post as well where he finally stops having all eyes on Ms. Colombia and is absorbed by Betty.

At the meeting the day before the launch Armando pulls a chair for Betty and tells her to sit by him and when she goes to sit he pulls his chair closer to her and leans towards her, when he usually is always leaning to his right, he now leans towards his left, where Betty is. That's not the only noticeable change. When Marcela starts yelling and insulting Betty, Armando visibly looks ticked off until he finally raises his voice at her and then adjusted his tone and talked to her calmly. Then later that night when Marcela and him are together discussing Claudia, Armando tells her that he can't do anything because Hugo will throw a fit, then Marcela decides to let her vandetta with Claudia go and asks for another head, to which Armando says anyone's head.

Remember how I said that Armando is really dumb with feelings and that when he has them he blurts them out unthinkably and then proceeds to correct himself?

Here Marcela gives him the ultimatum; Claudia's head or Betty's head.

Armando pulls away from her and says no, to which Marcela asks "You can't do it or you don't want to?" and he says "I don't want to- I can't." and he looks bothered by the idea of it. Like a kid told to share his toys with someone. We then see him feeling guilty over Betty being the owner of Eco Moda because Marcela is saying that she's gotta run everything by Betty.

The last point was a long one :)

Armando still yells at Betty and he still is a crappy boss but the last two days he has blended and blurred the lines so much while Betty has remained a good employee and kept boundaries with him.

Now this is the scene we've all been waiting for.

Armando finds out that Nicolas is Betty's "platonic love".

The day starts off with Marcela going to yell at Betty, as one does, and Armando seems bothered by it, while before it did bother him it wasn't much where he interacted or reacted to it. As he said he knew Betty could handle of them[Paty and Marcela].

Now one could simply say "But this is all because of Eco Moda and Betty is the owner now and he doesn't want her to turn against them."

Had that been the intention of the writer we wouldn't had gotten any of the previous details mentioned in the previous post. We wouldn't be seeing the subtle change, the blending of their personal lives, the obvious act of defending Betty against Mario's paranoia and the obvious stupidity of Armando towards his feelings.

Remember! Armando wasn't paranoid and he sure as hell wasn't questioning Betty's loyalty to him.

So if he isn't having those feelings? Why does he all of a sudden run to her aid against Marcela? Why does he not only defend his decision to hiring Betty as he did in the past but Betty's role and job in Eco Moda?

Here's the thing we all need to understand Armando is somewhat smart in his line of work. He knows how to manipulate, convince, and make deals. He is a very mechanical guy. Women enter him through his eyes. We've seen him be a womanizer and seggs is the way to his heart. Which is exactly why he was so stupid and clueless about his feelings towards Betty because unlike all the other woman, Betty didn't enter him through the eyes or sex. She did through action and personality and it all comes crashing down in this very scene. However, Armando is very stupid and I mean colossally stupid when it comes to feelings. He is a mechanical man, even in his relationship with Marcela, his parents, his best friend, his lovers, and he isn't fazed by people's emotions. He is uncomfortable with them and as a person who happens to be the same, when it comes to recognizing feelings and defining them as what they are it's really hard to do that when you spend your time avoiding and running away from any feeling and it can take months for someone to identify those feelings. Which is why the subtle changes and his reaction to this news leaves him uncomfortable, confused, and most of all scared and he tries to justify and identify these feelings as other things. Once again I talk from personal experience.

The writing from the previous episodes is meant to bring all of this together. Scenes that we might asume had nothing to do with the romance between B and A all of a sudden hold a lot of weight here. For example the scene when Sofia cries over her husband's lover working there, it shows Armando visibly uncomfortable as he turns to Betty's office and looks like he wants to stand up and leave the room when he sees her crying. However the last time Betty cried in front of him without her even asking or making any insinuation of it, Armando goes to hug her so he can comfort her. Mariana once said that he could watch someone cry and be unfazed by it but we had two more incidents previous to that that show us little by little how he begins to change for Betty. If they weren't important than we wouldn't had gotten them.

Bertha burst into his office with a smile on her face. Armando is as normal and typical as always, Betty enters the room and hands him the paperwork for him to sign.

That's when Bertha mentions that "Your love, your boyfriend, Nicolas Mora just called you!" and we get a close up of Armando's face(they wouldn't have shown us this if it weren't important). His eyes are focused on Betty, brows narrow, lips on a line and nostrils flared, meaning my boy is mad. When Betty asks if he signed the papers, without breaking eye contact with her, with a very serious and dead tone he tells her he did and hands them to her.

Skip a scene ahead we then see Armando exiting Betty's office, head down, shaking his head, looking confused and angry. When Mario walks in he asks if something happened and Armando nods, goes back into her office, steps back out and leans against the door frame, wrapping his arms around himself which is something people do to self sooth and he proceeds to tell Mario that something very grave has happened. Mario's facial expression shows worry.

Now let's go back to the episode when Betty gave Armando the papers that showed that Eco Moda was now under seizure for the debt they had with Terra Moda, how his voice was during that, which was somber. We know it hurt him to see that and that it was a hard thing to accept as he studied that most of the scene. Here in this scene he has the exact same tone of voice, somber, which means he is truly bothered and sad over Betty having a boyfriend.

Mario then proceeds to laugh and joke about it. Armando angrily tells him that the monstrete that he is making fun of is the owner of Eco Moda now and then his voice changes to say "She has a boyfriend." to which Mario again proceeds to make fun of. We see Armando's body language, he turns his back for a brief second, he doesn't look at Mario or make eye contact while he is making those jokes and for a split second we see a confused look on his face.

What does this mean? Armando sudden change of heart and his frustration towards the news aren't solely based on Eco Moda for what he continues to make apparent and continues to repeat is that Betty has a boyfriend because that's what he is hung up about.

I'm sorry I keep saying let's go back to a post or episode but this all comes imploding here, now, to prove the theory. Remember how I mentioned that Armando seemed unbothered by Nicolas and even defended him against Mario and his paranoia?

When Mario asks who the unfortunate person was Armando does as he does best, react emotionally.

All of a sudden Armando is furious as he refers to Nicolas. All of a sudden the person who he himself said was trustworthy, who he assured Mario was someone Betty collaborates with becomes an idiot and an object of disdain to Armando.

While Mario seems more concerned over the company and who the owner is; Armando seems more concerned over the fact that Nicolas is Betty's boyfriend.

He then proceeds to tell Mario how he found out and he tells it like he were telling him something traumatic, he is stuttering every few words, pacing, talking fast, unable to sit for more than a second and mocking, something we later see as a jealousy act of his, and gets angry( he makes it more dramatic by saying that Bertha said Nicolas was Betty's eternal love, her lover) when he gets to the point of the story that they talked about Betty's boyfriend in front of him which lets us know he felt it was disrespectful for Betty to do that.

What kind of boss thinks it's disrespectful for their employee to have a boyfriend and talk about it in front of them?

One that likes you and thinks there's something special going on between you two.

My theory is that Armando wasn't in love with Betty at this point but he was mixing up his feelings because he liked her and felt possessive over her. He felt that Betty's unconditionality, fidelity, loyalty, and faithfulness was all towards him and that made him feel special(when Betty was offered that commission by RagTela when she confessed it to Armando he went to her and told her he was glad he was a part of such an important test in her life which feeds the idea that he felt special to her) because of course, the "ugly" girl would never have a boyfriend to give all that to and he felt special to be the one to receive that from her without Betty asking for anything in return. Those exact qualities were the things that lead Armando to even have feelings for her(that he's not aware of) and all of a sudden there's someone who could be receiving those exact same qualities of Betty's and more which makes him react the way he does.

In his own words what offended him most (which means he was offended by Betty and Bertha talking about her personal love life in front of him) was that Betty didn't say anything about it.

Why is that?

Up to this point we've seen Armando slowly blur the lines of personal and work with Betty. Little by little we see him let his guard down, expressing his inner thoughts and feelings regarding his biggest burden and how it'll affect him. Betty knows him very well and he is very well aware of that as he tells her that he knows she understands more than anyone what he's doing while Armando barely knows anything about her. He knows she's got ethics, morals, and principles she sticks by. He knows her family and how humble and moral they are. He knows the most important parts of her character that makes her a trustworthy employee but he knows nothing about Betty's personal life like Betty does his.

In his own words again he says "I don't know, I don't know why she didn't confide in me. Me who has been very special to her-" please, let me bring you back to the past. In a post I mentioned that every time Betty gave him more of herself her rewarded her by doing the same in return. For example, when Betty showed loyalty to him he became more kind to her. When Betty showed unconditionality he showed loyalty. We begin to see a pattern of behavior. Whilst Betty's affection is shown through means of work and being respectful and having boundaries with him and living off her daydreams, Armando's is different. His affection is shown by blurring the lines between personal and work. By giving more of himself to her in an emotional sense.

He then concludes to say "This hurts me a lot, listen to me Calderon, I don't like this at all." Mario's perspective is that Amranod is worried for the same thing he is: Eco Moda. However Armando is on a different solar system as Mario tells him they should have investigated her more and again Armando goes to defend her. Saying that she is unconditional and has always been loyal to him. That he knows her perfectly, wouldn't you say this contradicts the plan?

"How the hell was I supposed to imagine that Betty! My Betty... would have a boyfriend?"

Armando then gives way to paranoia saying that Betty's personal life is deeply entwined with his, the companies, and his family's personal lives. Which means that Mario's seed of paranoia has now began to flourish in Armando and it shows his confusion. One moment he is defending Betty, the next he is questioning her. One second he is sure of her loyalty and the next he is worried about her having Eco Moda.

This is when the roles switch. In the previous days and scenes when Mario was paranoid Armando truthfully defended Betty and her loyalty. He was so sure of it but why does her having a boyfriend change that? Because Armando felt betrayed by Betty. He felt that she should have told him this. In other words Armando feels bamboozled because he isn't Betty's special man and now instead of Mario being the paranoid one he is the one to remind Armando that Betty is trustworthy. He tells him that Betty says "He's important for the company." and that the fact he's her boyfriend doesn't change anything he then proceeds to ask "Or what? You jealous?" and Armando laughs.

Notice his body language? He's biting his thumb nail, eyebrows arched and eyes worried. Yes, he is paranoid but he's also now struggling with the feelings that are left behind from the revelation that Betty has a boyfriend.

This will be part 1 of the next couple of episodes to break down Armando's inner struggle and why he is so stupid.

I need to get some rest lol

#armando mendoza #Mario Calderon #betty ysblf #don armando #nicolas mora #yo soy betty la fea #beatriz pinzón solano #armando ysblf #betty la fea #i need to go to sleep