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slayfics · 9 months

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Little Puppy~

Eijiro accidentally hurts you, but you have some ideas on how he can make it up to you.

Warnings: Eijiro aged up | NSFW

2,400 words~

It didn't take long for the fight between Katsuki and Eijiro to escalate. Usually, Eijiro brushed off anything Katuski said, but today Katsuki must have taken it a bit too far.

Eijiro was actually insulting Katsuki back. The other students in class 1A were standing around stunned by the scene. You saw sparks beginning to fly from Katsuki's hand and realized the two boys needed to be separated from each other ASAP.

You stepped in the middle of the two yelling boys, placing a hand on Katsuki's chest, and reached out to push back Eijiro. You opened your mouth to prompt the two boys to stop, but before you could you felt pain erupt on the left side of your face and then everything went dark.

You failed to realize that while Katsuki was starting to ignite sparks in his hand, Eijiro had drawn his fist back for a punch. A hardened punch that you had walked right in the line of.

"OH FUCK-" The crowd of students erupted watching as you hit the floor completely knocked unconscious.

Eijiro's eyes widened and he watched helplessly as Katsuki checked to see that you were indeed unconscious.

"Way to go hair for brains," He retorted.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO HIT HER!" Eijiro yelled, completely panicked.

"But you did because you have shit reflexes y-" Katsuki started to say before interrupting.

"CEASE THIS! She needs to be taken to Recovery Girl right away!" Tenya yelled.

"NO SHIT! I'm on it," Katsuki responded, picking you up. Your limbs hung completely immobile.

Eijiro watched as Katsuki left in the direction of the infirmary, his eyes full of guilt.

You opened your eyes slowly as your vision was blurred and doubled. Slowly the room came into focus, and you realized you couldn't see well out of your left eye. The first thing you noticed was some red flowers on the table beside the bed.

"Ah- you're awake. How do you feel?" Recovery girl asked.

"Ok I guess," you said sitting up in bed. You ran a finger down the left side of your face and felt an instant stinging pain.

"Oh don't do that, it's going to take a few days for the swelling to go down," Recovery Girl instructed.

"Right-" You looked out the window and caught a glimpse of your reflection in it.

It was awful.

The whole left side of your face was swollen and bruised, your lip busted open, and your left eye was almost completely swollen shut.

"Whenever you feel up to it you can go back to your dorm, I suggest skipping classes for today. You'll need to ice the swelling and rest." She instructed.

"What time is it?" You asked.

"Hm? 2 pm dear," She answered as she continued to putter about the room doing varying tasks.

"Thank you," you responded, getting up slowly from the bed. You were hoping to sneak into your dorm without seeing any of the other students. You didn't want to face anyone with how swollen your face was. You began to walk out of the room when she called to you.

"Don't forget your flowers. They are from the boy that hit you," She spoke.

"Oh," You grabbed the flowers and hurried up to your dorm. Your heart raced until finally, you were in the safety of your room. Where you planned to be until the swelling on your face went down.

You opened your phone and were greeted with 83 notifications.

Four calls and six texts from Mom.

Five texts from Mina.

Three texts from Ochaco.

Two texts from Momo.

One text from Kyoka.

Sixty-two texts from Eijiro.

You opened up Eijiro's messages first. It was a shower of apologies, mixed with ways to make it up to you. From food to gifts, to anything you name it, Eijiro was offering.

You closed your phone not wanting to talk to anyone. You knew it was just an accident but you felt exhausted and didn't have the energy to respond to anyone at the moment. You lay on your bed and fell back to sleep lying carefully only on your right side.

You were awoken by your phone buzzing and the room illuminating from your screen. You looked to see 5 more notifications from Eijiro. You unlocked your phone reading even more apologies from him.

He was offering to bring you up dinner since you hadn't come down to eat with everyone.

Finally, you decided to respond.

It's ok Kirishima, I know it was an accident.

You sent, instantly Eijiro began to type back.

What do you want? Name it I'll bring it up to you. Just tell me.

You chuckled a bit reading his message and felt pain again on the left side of your face from your swollen muscles moving.

Maybe some soup. I appreciate it.

In what felt like no time at all you heard a knock on your door. You opened the door to see Eijiro with a tray of food for both of you.

"Oh my god-" He exclaimed, once catching sight of how swollen your face was. He lost grip of the tray and you quickly reached out to grab it making sure the food didn't fall.

You set the food inside and Eijiro just stood frozen in the doorway from his guilt.

"Oh just come in," You snapped, pulling him in by his shirt and shutting the door.

"I am- I'm so -sorry-," He spoke, beginning to get teary-eyed. He fell in your chair and hung his head in his hands.

"Cut it out, it was an accident," You responded sitting on your bed adjacent to him.

"But-" He looked up, taking in your face again, "That looks awful," he said mumbling, tears still forming in his eyes.

"Oh geez thanks, yeah I know I look awful," You laughed.

Eijiro on the other hand did not laugh, your attempt at humor caused his tears to fully escape him.

"Stop it! It's fine. It doesn't even hurt," You lied.

Eijiro continued to sniffle and hide his face in his hands again. "You're just saying that- of course it hurts-," He said, barely audible from his tears and voice being muffled in his hands.

"Kirishima come here," You said, patting the bed next to you.

Eijiro looked up at you confused.

"Come on," You beckoned again.

Being in no state to turn you down he sat on the bed next to you. You ran your hand through his hair, causing some of the styled strands to fall down to their natural state.

"I forgive you ok, so stop the waterworks," You spoke.

"Mm-," He mumbled, still sniffling away tears. "I can't believe I hit you. That's not manly at all," He responded.

You couldn't help but giggle at his response, "You're so cute sometimes you know that," You spoke.

Eijiro's face quickly dusted a rosy pink at your words.

"What-?" He asked bewildered.

You ignored his bewildered response and continued with your own agenda, "Can I touch your hair again?" You asked.

"Uh- yeah that's ok-," He said, still completely confused and oblivious to your advances.

You ran your hand through his hair again, this time with both hands. Your fingers grazed his scalp massaging it lightly, then you tightened your grip and pulled slightly.

Eijiro bit his lip completely disoriented by you and unaware of why he now felt himself becoming excited.

"You're so cute, just like a little puppy," You said, moving your hands from his hair to wipe off the tears from his face that had finally subsided due to your suggestive touches.

"Um- hu? A puppy?" Eijiro was finding it hard to think straight now and our words left him completely clueless.

"Mhm-," You mumbled and pushed his shoulder back gently guiding him to lay down. Eijiro obeyed all too easily lying down on your bed, with the same bewildered but flustered expression on his face.

You crawled up to lay on his chest resting the right side of your face on to him. Eijiro lay frozen, unaware of how to handle the situation.

"Awe it's ok lost puppy, I'll guide you," You giggled, nuzzling into his neck. "One of your many texts- it said you'd do anything to make it up to me. Did you mean that?' You asked.

"Yeah of course! I feel so bad, I mean I shou-," He began a long-winded explanation.

"Shh-" You shushed him bringing a finger to his lips.

He stopped speaking at your command.

"I know how I want you to make it up to me," You said.

"Yeah, anything how? Just tell me," He responded.

"Well you came up to my room willingly, and this is the first time we've ever really been alone. So I have a few ideas," You replied, eyes full of lust.

A spark ignited in Eijiro. Finally, he understood what was happening. But really? You wanted him?

"Can I kiss you?" You asked.

"Uh- yeah," he answered, voice shaken and heart beating through his chest.

You pressed your lips gently to his and felt your whole body shiver.

"I've thought about you a lot you know," You whispered into his ear. "And now you're here on my bed.... on the very same bed I've touched myself thinking about you," you spoke softly.

At those words Eijiro's body seemed to come alive, his eyes widened and his pants got just a bit tighter.

"Tonight- to make it up to me. I don't want to pretend my hands are your hands anymore. I want you to really touch me," You spoke.

Eijiro's face ignited in a full blush.

"You're going to give me a nosebleed," he spoke, voice full of nervousness.

You giggled, "There you are again being such a cute little puppy," You said, as your hand moved to graze his cheek.

"You- You've really thought of me before when you um-," He attempted to ask, but was unable to get the words out.

"Kirishima- you're the sweetest person I've ever met. You're fucking hot and your quirk is hardening. Yes, I've cum to thoughts of you so many times. Tonight I want you to see what you really do to me," You answered then grabbed his hand and placed it on your breast.

"Fu-" Eijiro moved his hand away almost as soon as you felt him gently squeeze you. His hand moving straight to his nose.

"Oh my- such an easily excited puppy," You laughed moving his hand to watch the shimmering blood drip from his nose. "You're really complimenting me, but you're going to have to keep it together. You're going to touch a lot more than my boobs tonight little puppy."

You moved his hand back to your breast, "Let's try again, just take a deep breath ok," You said.

This time he was able to control himself as he gently squeezed at you.

"You're so soft," He mumbled as he bit his lip.

"I can feel you're not though," You said, moving to palm the bulge coming from his sweatpants. Eijiro's body instantly reacted shivering all over as a breath caught in his throat. "Awe so sensitive, that's ok we will take it slow," You said and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Eijiro moved his other hand to your breasts, both hands now groping and grabbing but still so gently.

"Alright time for more," You said, moving one of his hands down your body. You guided his hand under your panties to your entrance.

His face ignited red once more.

"Ok little puppy this is what is most sensitive," You spoke, guiding his fingers to your clit.

Eijiro was at full attention listening to your teachings.

"You're going to want to move back and forth, in circles, maybe change it up in between. Every girl likes something different," You explained. "Now when you go in here," You said, guiding his index and middle finger into your entrance, "It's best to curl your fingers up, that feels best. If you can do both of those things at once, you get a gold star," You joked.

Eijiro's body quivered at the feeling of you stretched around his fingers. He kept his finger inside you and placed his thumb on your clit, "What if I use my thumb too?" He asked.

"Look at you, already a pro," You smiled up at him gripping his hair. "Well go on then, put it into practice" You encouraged him.

Eijiro bit his lip nervously but did as you instructed. His thumb moved back and forth on your clit while his fingers curled inside of you.

"Mpfh~" you moaned.

Eijiro bit his lip hard at the sweet sounds you made.

"Press harder Kirishima," You instructed.

He did as told and pressed his thumb harder onto your clit making back-and-forth motions even rougher while his fingers continued to curl inside you.

You took glances up at him causing your breath to catch in your throat. How many times had you imagined this very scenario, and now Eijiro was really here fingering you.

Just the sight of his hand under your panties was enough to excite you alone, but he picked up on your instructions so quickly, and fuck it felt good. His hands had a force that put your own to shame. His touches felt bettern then you ever imagined.

"Mmm Eijiro~" You moaned as his movements continued consistently, allowing you to thrust comfortably into his hand. You gripped his hair tighter and pulled him to you pressing your lips against his.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long~" you whimpered and dig your nails into his forearm. Instinctively, Eijiro hardened his forearm.

"Scratch me as hard as you want~" He encouraged, his own voice now husky and full of lust as he flustered at your reactions to him.

You pulled him to your lips once more, this time pressing your tongue to invade his mouth. All the while Eijiro's thumb and fingers never let up on your heat. Now beginning to swell and pulse at his touches.

You pressed harder against his lips and moans escaped you becoming trapped between the both of your tongues intertwining.

"Mpfh~ almost there~ Ei~" You moaned into him, toes curling and waves of pleasure beginning to form, starting at your heat and then spreading throughout your body.

All at once your body erupted into an explosion of pleasure.

Eijiro watched as you unraveled under his fingers, head thrown back, eyes glazed over, mouth slightly agape begging to finish moaning his name.

He slowly removed his hand from your panties, and watched you with amazed eyes. Stunned how much of a reaction his touches had caused you.

"Mm- my little puppy, I would say we are even now."

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hotnbloodied · 3 months

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Yan!Cheater X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: cheating, implied stalking, kidnapping, physical violence, confinement.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

You were with Marshall for about three years now, everything seemed to be going fine. At least, that’s what you thought. You two had met back when you were starting out as a bartender. Honestly, maybe if you listened to your coworkers about how he was at the bar all the time and took people home regularly it would have been the first red flag, but you were too naive at the time. Not to mention that the more you think about it now, the more you realize that he always seemed to know what to say, sweet honeyed words, charming smiles, small gifts. You felt like you wanted to throw up, the two of you were even talking about starting a family for crying out loud!

So imagine your horror when you decided to stop by his apartment since you got out of your, now corporate job, early to get dinner started for him and found clothes scattered throughout. Bursting into his bedroom you found him and a person you didn’t recognize both naked in his bed. After telling both of them to fuck off you stormed out of his apartment and blocked his phone number and socials. Funny thing you realized is that he didn’t know where you lived. Since in all the time you two were together there was never a time he stepped foot in your house.

At first it was hard on you, you used to care for Marshall all the time and you grieved the time you spent on him. But after the week or so of angst that you allowed yourself, you started doing better. You had more time to yourself and more freedom. You even started accepting your coworker’s invitation for drinks. But just when you thought that you found a good groove to yourself the phone calls started.

‘babe plz take me back’

‘I miss u’

‘Y did u block me????’

‘U r NOTHING w/o me!!!’

You were startled to say the least, but you knew him (right?) There is no way a proud person like him would cause a scene that would make him look crazy… (would he?) So imagine your surprise when you were heading out of work only to be grabbed by Marshall. You almost didn’t recognize him since usually styled hair was greasy and messy, his face which was usually pristine looked rough and there were a couple of breakouts, his clothes that he meticulously planned were nowhere to be found but instead he wore loose fitting mismatched pieces.

If you saw him first you might have been able to steer clear of him, but alas, he saw you first and grabbed your arm. “Please take me back!” He sobbed. “I feel so empty without you!” You cringed and tried pulling back your arm, “hey, let go of me. You’re the one who wanted to backstab me.” He gripped tighter, making you wince a bit, “I promise I’ll be better! I’ll pay attention to no one else but you! I’ll think of no one else but you! Look! I even deleted all my contacts!” He attempted to take out his phone with only one hand but you didn’t care if it was true. “Let go of me you fuck!” You swung your arm trying to break free, it was until a coworker saw the bind you were in and stepped in. Separating the two of you and knocking Marshall down. “Leave me alone, or I’ll call the cops next time!” You yelled at his fallen form.

Marshall looked up at you and started laughing, it was slow at first but turned maniacal quickly. “I see how it is, have fun with your new boy toy while it lasts! I’ll get you back.” He clumsily stood up and left hastily. Your co-worker asked if you were okay and you thanked him for his help. He told you that you should probably go to the police station to make a statement but you brushed him off. Oh how stupid of you.

One particular late night after working late you were walking home, until you suddenly blacked out. You awoke to a throbbing pain in your head, vision blurry and unable to move your body freely. “H-huh?” “Welcome home darling!” Through your haze, you saw Marshall. He looked better than the last time you saw him but something wasn’t right. You suddenly realized that you were in a situation so you looked around the room and you saw pictures of you scattered everywhere from the ceilings to the walls and even some on the floor. “Where… am I?” He scoffed, “home! Do you like the pictures?” He giggled, “it wasn’t until after you left did I realize that I didn’t have enough photos of you. Which reminds me!” He took out his phone and started snapping pictures of you while in your state of being restrained and confused in an unfamiliar bed. You looked so alluring to him, so much so that it got him a little too excited that even you could see it.

“Marshall, let me go! I won’t press charges.” “Oh that’s right that you won’t press charges, cause you will never be able to! I’ve prepared this cage for you, my pretty bird. And I'm not going to let the only good thing that was a part of my life leave me... ever again.”

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yan-lorkai · 1 year

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Hiii, could I please ask for a request where the reader is best friends with Vil, Malleus, Rook and Idia (separate) and says I love you platonically to them? :)

"I love you, love you, love you, love you, Vil." You said excitedly on the other end of the line. Vil couldn't see you, but he knew you must have been jumping up and down and holding the gift he gave you as a little kid. The scene he envisioned was enough to make him laugh as he listened to you babble.

Your "I love you" echoes in his mind and fills his chest with warm feeling and pride, and his cheeks are painted pink every second his mind replays what you said. Only he heard those three words coming out of your lips, only he deserved that, Vil was your best friend since childhood and he was always taking care of you. And he would always continue to take care of you. Every queen needs her king, after all.

⠀⠀

"Rook, I love you, but you won't catch me." You scream as you laugh. The forest in front of you was already almost like a second home for the two of you, spending enough time here since you were just two children who had just learned to walk.

Your little confession that he knows was on purpose distracts him a bit. Rook grins like an idiot, reacting like it's the first time he's heard you say you love him. But he can't help, the expression on your face, your gaze and your laugh are infectious, they make him happy and he knows he wants to hear more statements like that, he craves more. A hunter like him is never satisfied, no matter how many times he hunts the same prey and when he catches you, Rook knows well what prize he will want. He wants more of you, your laugh, your smell, those three words that make his heart race and almost melt him.

And most of all he wants to see the embarrassed expression on your face when he tells you he loves you too.

⠀⠀⠀

"I saw a new sentence in my book. The girl said she loved the boy and they kissed and lived happily ever after." You told him. Your childish voice carried a mischievous tone as you showed the book you took from the library to Malleus, who looked with interest at the cover designed with a prince and a princess. And you held his hand, kissing his forehead tenderly. "Lilia said that people say I love you to someone important. And you are important to me, Malmal, I love you so much."

Malleus felt his cheeks flush as that small memory resurfaced in his mind. You had great boldness, for no one else would treat him like that, as the prince everyone treated him with reverence. Everyone but you. Since you were a child you treated him normally, played with him, made fun of him, dragged him on adventures and stood by him when Lilia lectured you two. You were too precious to him, almost like an angel, a little light in the dark. And he, like a dragon, knew that he had to protect you from everything, he knew that he should give you all the comfort and food you could ever want. Because he's your best friend and it's his job to take care of you.

"Oh my darling, I love you too." He whispers to you. Though you'll hardly hear him, with your head resting on his shoulder and taking a nap. But it's okay, he can tell you that again when you wake up. And he hopes you enjoy his kiss too.

⠀⠀

"Idia, I have a secret to tell you." You whispered to him suddenly, making a gesture with your hand for him to bring his face closer to yours. And wanting to immediately return attention to the anime you were watching, Idia got close enough so that his ear was close to your mouth, your warm breath being enough to send shivers all over his body. And you laughed. "I love you a lot. You're amazing, hardworking, made cool inventions, and is the best friend I could ask for."

Idia flinches and lets out a loud squeak. All his hair turns pink and he feels his face burn. You were the more affectionate of the two of you and even though he was used to holding your hand or giving him lots of kisses, Idia wasn't prepared to hear that. But a part of him is content to know how much you like him, how important his friendship is to you, and what you think of him. And when he goes to bed, he'll think about everything you said.

But right now, he can't move. He's still processing everything. And you're still laughing, lacing your fingers through his as you turn your attention back to the anime. Meanwhile he is formulating a plan to have you forever by his side.

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

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Hi, can I request Bi Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas (separately or together) reactions to a f!reader who is seeking refuge with the Lin Kuei/Shirai Ryu? She knows the brothers from a long time ago, and after a seriously battle, she needs help with her injuries and just laying low. It can be platonic or romantic, I don't mind. Thank you for all your stories!!!

Idk what this was exactly, I went through multiple drafts but decided to wing it and this became a thing. 🦦

This trio of brothers would take a unanimous vote that you were to stay within the Lin Kuei, just until they could prove that you wouldn’t be sought after, by having frequent search parties look high and low for the individual who had put you in such a injured state in the first place.

Now how the trio would take care of the situation in the meantime were vastly different;

Kuai Liang is out with the search parties looking for your assailant to satiate the anger he felt upon seeing your multiple injuries, many of which from what he could see were intended to have you killed. This only proved to piss Kuai Liang even more that someone was targeting you and if so, what purpose? Did they know of your ties to him, Tomas and Bi-Han?

Either way Kuai Liang felt the need to protect you from this threat by any means necessary as to make up for failing you the first time. He’s steadfast in his ways to keep you safe, he’s stubborn and he’s itching to exact revenge on your behalf.

He essentially becomes your guard dog of sorts.

He’s incredibly stubborn about leaving you for prolong periods of time but he wasn’t about to fight with the medics and will leave for a bit before coming back to watch over you again.

Kuai Liang would even help change your dressings when it was appropriate, much like he did when you would get injured from doing stupid shit and getting scolded by Bi-Han afterwards. He would be his most gentle at this moment in time as he would check up on you, asking how you were feeling and telling you the progress that was being made towards finding your assailant.

Tomas Vrbada would visit you in the medbay the most out of the three, always occupying the seat beside your bed, holding your hand, helping administrate medication when needed and even cooking you easy to consume meals per the medics instructions.

Other than that Tomas would keep you company throughout your healing process whilst hiding his feeling of immense guilt behind a soft smile. He wouldn’t be a hard one to remove from the medbay like Kuai Liang but he would do so begrudgingly, not liking that he’d have to leave you unguarded for long periods of time. So much so that when Tomas came back he would’ve gotten you something from a nearby village as a way to apologise for his absence.

He had gotten you so many gifts that he thought you’d like that he has to move them into one of the spare rooms in the Lin Kuei, more specifically as not to cluster the medbay from hindering the medics from doing their duties.

Tomas would even talk to you about his day in hopes of getting your mind away from the assailant, wanting to provide you an escape from your situation that his two brothers would always bring up upon visiting you. He just didn’t want you to stress yourself out over all this and just take time to rest and let him, Kuai Liang and Bi-Han take care of everything else.

He frequently promises to find your attacker but until then you were to be under his and his brother’s surveillance indefinitely.

Bi-Han would visit the medbay the least but that was due to his duty as Grandmaster and could be often found leading the search parties alongside Kuai Liang in search for your assailant, leaving not a single area unchecked, only to come back home visibly frustrated with their lack of progress. It was almost as though the assailant had just up and left the scene not longer after the fight, knowing that they’d be wanted by the Lin Kuei for hurting one of their own.

So when Bi-Han does visit you, it’s usually sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep and all he does is place himself in the vacant seat by your bedside, sitting in absolute silence while you slept peacefully. Bi-Han wanted to scoff at your ability to sleep easy despite almost having succumb to your wounds on a multitude of occasions, he suspected that you would be kept up late at night, on edge that your assailant might somehow or someway break into the Lin Kuei and finish what they started.

Not like that would ever happen, Bi-Han practically forbade that being a plausible scenario by having some of his most loyal to perform a mandatory night watch. And besides even if the off chance that they did manage to break in, they would have to face him before delving any further and Bi-Han would promise that he wouldn’t go easy on the assailant either, he’d be aiming to kill and all that.

However if he was able to visit you during the early morning, when he knew he wouldn’t get spotted making a trip towards the kitchen in order to make you something, just like he use to when you were had foolishly forgone the need to eat throughout the day, something he didn’t find out until later on when he saw how weak you were.

Bi-Han doesn’t often show that he cares for you because he was never properly shown how and so when he does, he does so when there is little to no one to bare witness to him prepare you a snack, getting you glasses of water or just watching over you while you slept. For he’s not quite use to being vulnerable or open towards anyone, especially when he’s known you for quite a long time, it was still hard for him to convey that he cared. Yet that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do little things throughout your healing process, for acts of service was his way of saying that he valued you and your company without having to vocalise it.

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

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Let's Be Alone Together || Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Tommy's revelation is cut short by an unexpected distraction

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature, including a physical attack, blood, guns and gore. Please proceed with caution. Also, a probably poor description of inside the Shelby's betting shop.

A/N: Shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the love, support and whump-spiration💖

Masterlist

For half a moment, you think that Tommy Shelby is going to kiss you. His mouth - parted - is so close to your own that if either of you were to move forwards, even by just an inch, your lips would be touching.

So close, yet so far.

Because in the quiet of the betting shop, the two of you stand frozen; a tableau. Your hands, surprisingly steady, rest against Tommy’s broad chest, fingertips brushing the dark leather straps of his shoulder holster. His hands, surprisingly soft and warm, cup your jaw as he searches your gaze.

“Tommy…”

His extraordinary blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly. But it’s not the sound of his name as it falls from your lips that breaks whatever spell he’s fallen under. Somewhere in the back of the shop, a floorboard creaks.

Tensing beneath your touch, Tommy’s voice is low but urgent when he finally speaks. “Were you alone? Before I got here?”

Tentatively, you nod. Arthur had locked the door behind him before leaving earlier this morning. It’s inconceivable that anyone else could have been here with you - that you hadn’t been aware of their presence this whole time.

Isn’t it?

Tommy carefully releases you, his scar-flecked hands balling into fists as they fall to his sides. “Go,” he tells you in the same quietly compelling tone that leaves no room for argument. “Lock yourself in the office. Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

Deprived of the reassuring warmth of his touch, your head spins at the sudden shift in the man before you - the man now reaching for his gun. From curiously captivated to deadly calm - this is the side of Tommy you recognise. The side you have become accustomed to.

The man who protects his empire and his assets at all costs.

“Go.”

With little choice but to follow his orders, you abandon the wooden table in the centre of the room and hurry behind the metal bars that separate Polly’s office - and the cash boxes - from the rest of the shop. The gate shuts behind you with a heavy clang and with trembling fingers you lock yourself inside, pocketing the key.

Despite your line of sight being skewed by the bars, you watch uneasily as Tommy begins his sweep of the shop, one unwavering arm outstretched as he aims his gun into the dimly lit corners of the room.

Is it possible he’s overreacting, or is there really someone else here? Someone who doesn’t belong.

The thought alone causes you to falter, staggering backwards until you reach the far wall of the office. How long have they been watching you? What would have happened had Tommy not returned? Have you really been a sitting duck all this time?

With a start, you remember the gun. The small pistol Arthur had given you - an employment gift of sorts - stashed away in your handbag beneath the wooden table. If you could just make it out of the cage undetected… You’ve never fired the thing, but the intruder doesn’t know that.

Attentioned focused solely on Tommy as he slips through the curtains to check the rest of the house, you take a hesitant step forwards. Three more steps and you’ll be back at the gate. But before you can move another inch, something - someone - grabs hold of you from behind, dragging you away from the bars.

A rough hand smothers your mouth, stifling the scream you were about to let rip.

“Make a sound and my pal over there will blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

The voice, barely more than a harsh whisper, is unfamiliar and you freeze in the foreign grip, just in time to see a shadowy figure move beyond the bars. Damning evidence of Tommy’s impending peril.

“Atta girl,” your assailant mutters into your ear, his hot, damp breath making your skin crawl. “Now, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and no one has to get hurt. We just want the cash.”

Fear paralyses your body, but your mind is whirring, desperate for a way out. Because you recognise the northern accent. You know enough about the Shelby’s business dealings to understand that it’s far more than money these Yorkshiremen are after.

Power. Revenge. War.

If you stand here silently, they will murder Tommy in cold blood.

Despite the heavy breathing of the man holding you captive, you strain your ears for the faintest sound - any indication of where Tommy is or what he’s doing. If he comes back into the shop and finds you being held hostage, he’ll take aim at your captor and it won’t end well for anyone.

You can’t let it come to that.

With concern for Tommy clouding your judgement and no better plan emerging, you say a fleeting prayer to the god you no longer believe in and discretely raise your left leg, bringing your heel down with great force on your assailant’s foot.

The man yelps. The shock of the attack briefly loosens his grip, just as you’d hoped, allowing you enough room to wiggle out of his arms whilst simultaneously elbowing him in the stomach. As he doubles over in pain, you bolt to the gate, scrambling for the keys.

Get the gun. Get to Tommy. Get out.

From the furthest recess of the shop, you hear Tommy - alerted by the sounds of your struggle - shouting your name, his voice thick and rasping with panic.

“There’s two of them,” you yell back, no longer fearing for your own safety. You just need Tommy to be ok.

But there’s no response, and before you can unlock the gate, a hand clamps tightly around your forearm, hauling you away from the bars and spinning you around.

“You stupid bitch.”

The man lashes out, his palm connecting with your cheek in a wicked blow. Tears spring to your eyes as your skin burns, but you manage to stumble to the side, ducking unsteadily in order to avoid a second strike.

“Didn’t I warn you, eh? Didn’t want to spill blood today but looks like you’re leavin’ us with no choice.”

The hold on your arm is relinquished, only to be replaced almost instantly by the same hand clasping your neck, thick fingers pressing painfully into your windpipe until it’s difficult to breathe.

But apparently, this would be far too kind a demise. Because, moments later, you feel the telltale sting of metal as the cold, hard muzzle of a gun kisses your temple.

No. Not like this.

Where is Tommy?

As you grapple to free yourself from the tight grip around your throat in a panic-stricken haze, you recollect a lesson given to you by John all those months ago - half in jest - on the basics of self-defence: how to hit a man where it hurts.

If this is the end, at least you’ll go down fighting. Maybe they made a Peaky Blinder out of you, after all.

Your fingers scratch desperately at your assailant’s hands as he draws you closer, the dampness beneath your nails indicating that you too are capable of spilling blood. But it’s a mere distraction. He doesn’t notice you jerk your knee upwards in a violent fashion, as high as it will go, until it’s too late.

Seconds away from blacking out - or having your brains blown out - you hit the magic spot.

The man lets out an almighty grunt as he releases you, both hands flying to his crotch as he folds to the floor. Nothing less than sheer instinct sees you lurching forwards and wrenching the gun out of his weakened, bloody grip.

You’re panting now, every breath burning as you fight to fill your lungs and clear your head. You have the gun trained on the crumpled man, but the nightmare is far from over. Behind you, there are sounds of a skirmish. Grunting and shouting as Tommy wrestles with the second intruder, but mercifully no gunshots.

Without taking your eyes off your attacker, you slowly inch backwards until you hit the bars of the cage. The keys remain jammed in the lock, just as you’d left them.

“Tommy,” you yell, frantically. “Are you ok?” But the damage to your throat has left your voice hoarse, little more than a wheeze.

When Tommy - understandably - doesn’t reply, you risk a glance over your shoulder, just in time to spot him grabbing the stranger by his jacket and hauling him against the blackboard. The man might tower over him by at least half a foot, but he is no match for Tommy’s pure strength. As Tommy begins pummelling his fists into the man’s face, you dare to allow yourself a moment of relief and, barely registering the horror of the situation, you look away.

Returning your attention to your own assailant, you are startled to find that, like something out of your very worst dreams, he has risen. His hideous face twists into a cruel smirk as he approaches, his pace slow yet menacing.

“You ain’t got it in you, lass.”

Maybe he’s right. Your hands are certainly trembling as they tighten around the gun, the prospect of taking a man’s life suddenly very terribly real.

Kill or be killed.

It doesn’t make it any easier. And you’d had the nerve to call Tommy a coward. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror.

On second thoughts, better not. Because in one moment the man is standing before you, his arms outstretched and ready to attack. The next, there is a deafening bang and he slumps to the floor, his brains splattered on the wall behind him.

Stunned into stillness, you hear Tommy shout your name, his spent gun clattering to the ground. You’re vaguely aware of the cage opening behind you and the next thing you know, you’re collapsing into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.

“It’s over now. I’ve got you. It’s over.”

Tommy’s hushed words are a soothing balm as he gently turns you to face him, assessing you for injury as he holds you at arm’s length. Whatever he sees quickly causes his brow to furrow and his jaw to tense, his attention lingering on the bruises around your neck.

Through tear-stained eyes you meet his gaze - a frightening, ice-cold gaze - the kind of gaze that promises a swift and painful death to those who hurt you - except he’s already delivered that, hasn’t he?

In the waning afternoon light, you take the opportunity to study him, too. His shirt is stained red and a sheen of sweat covers his skin. The lengths of his hair are damp, slicked across his forehead. But despite being in such an unusual state of disarray, there’s no obvious sign of injury, except for a small cut above his brow.

Tommy’s fury passes and gradually, his expression softens. “I’ve got you, love. It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?”

He starts to pull you closer as you nod mutely, but you feel something damp against your temple and you stiffen in his arms. When you touch a finger to your skin, it comes away crimson.

“Blood…” you murmur, somehow not as horrified as you know you should be.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle you, Tommy takes your face in his hands just like before.

“It’s not yours,” he assures you, softly wiping away the evidence with his thumb, oblivious - or maybe not - to the fact that his own hands are already stained. “You’re ok, eh. We’re ok.”

“I couldn’t do it, Tommy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know.” He lowers his head, until your brows are almost touching. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did more than anyone could have asked for. I saw the way you fought back. The boys will be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

You try to shake your head, still in his grasp. “It wasn’t enough.”

Because you should have been better. Quicker off the mark. You shouldn’t have frozen. You should have noticed earlier that you weren’t alone.

“It was more than enough,” Tommy tells you firmly. “You are more than enough. All this time, I’ve underestimated you. I thought it was you who needed protecting but now I see that I was wrong. I think maybe it was me this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

In lieu of giving you an answer, Tommy leans in, finally closing the distance. His lips - surprisingly soft - brush over yours, a gentle caress and a silent request.

This time, you won’t hesitate. This time, you won’t freeze. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself onto your tip toes and deepen the kiss, distantly wondering if he’s right.

Maybe it has been him, this whole time.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #whump #let's be alone together

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candied-cae · 7 months

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Okay... I finished OFMD S2...

And yeah, as much as it breaks my heart, this season disappointed me in so many different ways. There are a few things I absolutely adored, but a lot of it felt like a disservice to a lot of the work S1 did to establish the universe and its characters.

Oluwande gave Stede advice like one whole time this season, even though that was a big part of the first. Him consistently being supportive was such a light, and it was pretty much replaced with him just being generally bubbly (and I fucking loved watching him be bubbly and joyful, might I add, but it's different).

Jim's complicated relationship with the idea of taking vengeance wasn't brought up at all. Jim's relationship with Oluwande was absolutely shifted, even now, I cannot watch S1 with the knowledge that they're going to be played off as "best friends who hooked up once" and see it, they HAD to have been intended as an endgame couple in the beginning.

Frenchie didn't sing even once, despite the fact that the very first scene opens to his voice! Frenchie as a character was shrunken a ton, in general. Ed leaned on him a lot in S1, that was gone. Wee John was shown as his best friend, but how many words did they even exchange this season? They let him do another grift, but it didn't include Oluwande so (personally) it felt cheapened.

Wee John didn't make a single fucking joke about fire! Even though there was a lot of fire this season, and he made like three separate comments about arson in the previous one?!?!?! And, again, he barely even talks to Frenchie at all!

The Swede was benched for half the episodes, Buttons became a bird halfway through and possibly won't be coming back at all, Ivan was killed off with a one-liner, and Izzy died as a completely backwards version of himself that we were given almost no show of him transitioning into.

Izzy, who practically stole a bunch of other character's "moments" while they rushed through his redemption so they could kill him at the end and hope they got everyone attached to him enough to care. Izzy got to sing, Izzy got to play advisor to Stede, Izzy got to do drag with John, Izzy whittled a gift for Lucius instead of Pete, Izzy pretty much interrupted every single scene Gentlebeard had... It's just... frustrating.

Season 1 was revolutionary to me, but Season 2 just felt far more average in comparison. I don't know, I was so excited, and rewatching season 1 is still exhilarating, but season 2 just doesn't do as much for me. I really feel like it was the wrong choice to spend as much time as they did with Izzy when they still skipped almost the entirety of his "redemption," condense so many of the other characters to make for time, but still make sure we could fit in some incredible jokes.

One of the only things that didn't change for me, was the humor.

But about half of my favorite things just didn't exist these last 8 episodes, so I need to go drown myself in some fanfics.

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amanitaphalloides · 4 months

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what is the jopkey manifesto. if you can share it for those of us not in the gc 🥺

anon thank you for asking this question i have been trying and trying to bait someone into asking. here is it copy and pasted

Jopkey: A Manifesto

Jopkey in Brief

Jopkey refers to the romantic/erotic pairing of Thomas Jopson and Cornelius Hickey, a couple of guys who actually existed in real life and have been twisted into something beyond recognition by Dan Simmons, AMC, and now random people online such as us. Jopkey is commonly referred to as “the thinking person’s Terror ship” due to it kinda making you think.

Arguments For Jopkey

Let us review the nuanced and delicate appeal of Jopkey.

Potential Dynamics

Two tops fight to the death. In this formulation, Jopson and Hickey fight (mentally or physically) for dominance until one of them is (mentally or physically) dead. And they’re both tops. Credit Hannah @groundwater for being insistent about this final point.

Daddy’s candy babies. A popular (loose definition of the word) dynamic in which Jopson and Hickey are equally devoted to pursuing Francis Crozier’s attentions. But in doing so they find themselves irrevocably drawn to their freakass competitor…

Realizing potential. Jopson and Hickey recognize, in each other, great untapped potential—perhaps to be annoying and evil, but perhaps also to be intriguing, exciting, and to live life to the fullest. Whether intentionally or otherwise, they spur each other to explore all life has to offer them. Which given the circumstances isn’t that much.

Situations in Which Jopkey Could Happen

Hatefucking at any time.

Everyone else dies and they have to repopulate the ships.

Angry grief sex after Crozier dies. Perhaps over his casket?

Hickey happens upon Jopson’s half-dead form and attempts to eat him. Jopson simply responds, eat this.

Pertinent Jopkey Moments

“I’ll be there in a minute, Jopson.” Hickey refuses to call him lieutenant. Hot!

Jopson’s mouth twitches while watching Hickey be punished as a boy. Glee, eroticism, or simply an expression of sympathetic pain? Perhaps all three.

When Hickey picks up Neptune's turd he says "Sorry sir the dog relieved himself before I could call Mr Jopson." This implies he has watched Jopson pick up dog shit before and would feel comfortable calling Jopson for help. Hickey doing a task that he thinks should be Jopson's = they have so much in common.

This is also an early indication of their dynamic wherein they see their respective relationships to Crozier overlap. See "Daddy's candy babies" under Potential Dynamics above.

Jopson guards Hickey while he’s on tent arrest. Hickey teases Jopson about his shooting abilities with his hand down his pants, Jopson brags about all the critters he used to kill and eat and says “My aim’s just fine Mr. Hickey” sexily. Implies Hickey is also a critter to be skinned and devoured! Okay!

During this scene Hickey is touching his own penis and Jopson puts his hand in his own mouth. Through the transference property this means that they have had oral sex.

They appear next to one another in the list of Terror crew members in a published book in the gift shop of the National Maritime Museum as pictured here (ie they are cuddling):

Arguments Against Jopkey

Despite the cold hard facts/group delusion depending on your perspective, some people are anti-Jopkey. Let’s take a look at the common reasons behind this unfortunate sentiment and resolve them one by one.

Anti-Jopkey Arguments and Resolutions

"Jopson simply does not think of Hickey."

Fortunately this is easily disputed. Jopson is constantly looking at Hickey like ARGH. Also we use our little imaginations. Sooooo.

The anti-Jopkey contingency argues "that’s just Liam Garrigan’s face" (re. point 2 in the above).

A typical argument and quite a simple one to dispel! We only need apply the “say yes to the text” ethos—by which we understand that everything present in the text is there to be explored and enjoyed, quite separate from the circumstances of its creation. Jopkey is not so weak as to be dependent upon the actors’ intentions. Regardless of whether or not AMC’s The Terror was filmed with the specific and singular intention of breathing life into Jopkey (which it was), all that truly matters is the effect. And ultimately the effect of Liam Garrigan’s face is eroticism, glee, intrigue, sympathy, and perhaps even romance.

The truth is there will never be consensus in the group chat or in the world, and Jopkey will never be true or untrue. It will remain Schrodinger’s Jopkey, and by offering insight into our psyches and groupthink dynamics, it is actually a vital and beautiful step towards world peace.

Jopkey Bangers

I Fucking Hate You - Godsmack

Since You’ve Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

Jopkey Mood Board

Affirmations for Jopkeyers

I am so smart for shipping Jopkey.

My phone knows the word Jopkey. It knows that I am not typing about Jockey.

I understand British accents perfectly. Every word Jopkey says is comprehensible to me.

My words and actions honor Jopkey and my Jopkeyer compatriots.

I can think completely secret erotic Jopkey thoughts on this bus; my brain is closed to psychic attacks from the bus driver and other passengers.

I know who these characters are; I can tell them apart from other light-haired and dark-haired men who appear onscreen together. I can recognize their interactions as unequivocally Jopkey.

The Jopkey Anthem

O Jopkey Jopkey! Of thee I sing!

With Jopkey I can do anything!

Jopkey helps me laugh and play

So I ship Jopkey every day!

Thomas Jopson — You always wow!

I know who you are by now

When first I watched I couldn't see

But you're not just Muttonchops #3

And Hickey lad with your sly grin

Reminiscent of delicious sin

Could you really be so wrong?

Not according to my Jopkey song!

[alternate hickey apologist verse] And Hickey — the perfect man!

Through thick and thin we’ll always stan

You’ve never done nothin’ wrong

And so to you we sing this song !

I pray this ship will never sink

Lest we approach the mental brink

May Jopkey sail forevermore

And far outlive Lieutenant Gore.

#the terror #this was a full gc collaboration in case that’s not clear by the fact that it contains arguments and multiple verses when we were trying #to write the same song simultaneously #jopkey

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prince-kallisto · 2 months

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Magic Assault Practice & Styx’s Lachesis System

I’m very suspicious of the Magic Assault Practice event that is directly run by Crowley 👀 In this event, there are these virtual projections for the Magic Assault Practice. The battles are set in a virtual simulation, which Crowley explains it was for practicality reasons, as in last years, this was set in physical locations like reserved/uninhabited islands which caused SO much trouble amongst the students and teachers. Since virtual projections has progressed so far in terms of realism, Crowley reasons this would be the most efficient way for the students to get some training without the hassle. (At least this is what I gathered from translating it myself online andjsjd)

With this system, Crowley makes himself the final boss battle in every map of the event, and says Virtual!Crowley has significantly less magical power than he really has for everyone’s safety. And as I found out from the lovely @floydhat, the virtual projections are adjustable, where the difficultly level can be reconfigured by the real him.

His virtual projections reminds me a lot of Styx’s Lachesis System, used in Book 6 so the students could virtually battle at full capacity without having any real harm sustained in their bodies.

The Lachesis system was already a shock to all the students- even students like Riddle and Azul who have stronger knowledge about these sort of things- especially relating to the school. The Magic Assault Practice event is stated to be a new thing “introduced” by Crowley, that “from now on,” these unique lessons will be set in the virtual setting. Furthermore, the Lachesis system does more than just testing magic in a facility. It combines with the battle simulation to create false yet extremely convincing environments and people. The virtual people can talk with the same voices, the environments look exact- it’s scarily realistic.

In the Magic Assault Practice event, Crowley says virtual projections have improved to the point of being able to recreate forests, underwater scenes, beaches, etc. to the point it’s “no different from the real thing.” It is why the battle maps take place in every single dorm- we don’t actually travel to different dorms. It’s just a projection in there coliseum. And here, much like the Lachesis system, it goes beyond regular VR and more of a practical lesson for the students magic. I assume any damage the students receive is simulated, much like the Lachesis system, but I don’t know for sure yet!

Considering the Magic Assault Practice event says this simulation thing is new, I conclude this equipment gifted from Styx. I sound oddly confident about a theory for once, don’t I? 🤣 But I was look back at book 6 for this theory, and I was blown away by Crowley mentioning that Styx not only covered the repair bills for the damage they caused to the school, but expanded the school’s facilities. Isn’t this a genius potential callback? This would realistically be an incredibly expensive system- Crowley’s stinginess with money or not, a brand new system that’s this high tech would be an unreasonable amount of money just for some student lessons. It all makes sense!

But at the same time, it worries me. Crowley in the event is very specific about saying how the simulation would be just like the “real thing.” I feel like putting all these clues together could lead to a lot of different separate theories here, but…I’m not sure. All I can say is that I feel more confident than ever to Crowley having a direct connection with Styx and the Shroud family 🤔🐦‍⬛ I don’t why, I just have some suspicions on why Crowley was given the high tech virtual simulator in the first place, when we’ve only seen Styx use it to monitor blot levels…is the Magic Assault Practice event for other motives, I wonder?

Also, I got curious of what “Lachesis” meant. There are two meanings to it. The first being that Lachesis is the name of the one of the Three Fates/Moirai, the infamous divine trio in Greek Mythology that control the birth, life, and death of every single person, aka the destiny of everyone. Their symbols are there thread, spindle, and scissors. Clotho first weaved the threads of life, Lachesis measured the threads, (how long a person gets to live), and Atropos cuts the string, ending a person’s life. Depending on the mythological text, Lachesis is also the one who chooses each persons destiny- but in others it’s the job of all three. Interesting! (Edit: sob sob I don’t want to admit it, but Disney’s Hercules has the Three Fates. In the screenshot above, Lachesis is holding the string. Crowley’s mask HELP?! 🤣🤣🤣💀💀💀💀)

But secondly, a Lachesis is a type of snake- a venomous pit viper, to be exact, named after the Lachesis of the Three Fates. This seems irrelevant at first, but notice how prevalent the symbol of the snake is at NRC’s logo and Dark Mirror. I go into a bit more detail in a separate post here about every meanings of this, but isn’t this strange how Styx is getting shockingly more connected to NRC the more we think of it? Crowley essentially having his own Lachesis system…Lachesis measuring threads of fate before they are cut…depending on mythology Lachesis is the one who chooses destiny…

The weaved spindle wheel threads in Book 7’s trailer are cut, which signal the end of life…

Crowley, what are you doing?! Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

#twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst theory #twst crowley #twst shroud family #twst Styx #twst jp spoilers #twst spoilers #kallistopost #it’s funny how big this theory used to be…#it branched off into 3 new separate different theories that I am working on!#sob sob there’s just a lot to cover but I do my best to make these posts legible and digestible 🤣🤣🤣

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riftfic · 8 months

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17. Epilogue

The end is here.

Thank you, everyone, for staying with me till now. I've made two additional illustrations buried in the text below. :)

Happy Anniversary, Undertale. 💙

< Load | RESET

An incandescent future unfolded over the course of that year. Though far too familiar events repeated with frustrating familiarity, they arrived in new packages: some in bright and colorful wrapping, some in grossly damaged bags. Even if confusing and often jarring, most monsters expressed gratitude to have familiar yet unfamiliar lives awaiting. The additional security and a world more accepting allowed them to press on with more comfort than expected.

Not all were as fortunate. Several returned to lives in pieces. Lost relationships. Humans that knew them, loved them, and had aged beyond them. Photographs of small children they might never conceive. Tombstones engraved with names of the living . . . sometimes their own.

At first, Asgore and Toriel tried to shield you from the responsibility. This level of accountability, they said, should not rest on a child’s small shoulders. No one needed to know about your hand in the broken clock.

You didn’t see it that way. Not knowing why their lives had been stolen, left wondering if their relationships could be undone again, only festered the wound. So you explained to them what had happened and why, and swore that it would not and could not happen again. Amazing, how forgiving monsters could be—not that they all were.

For three months, HEART continued its search for monsters left behind. The moment Sans had recovered, he had jumped at the chance to join Papyrus and Undyne among their ranks. His unique teleportation magic served them well once he had a feel for those snaking, unfamiliar shafts and pathways. Places once difficult to reach suddenly became accessible. Dozens of monsters and their families owed him thanks, especially those trapped deep in the Ruins.

None of them were Wingdings.

With this and all else he had set in motion to free them, monsterkind quickly came to love and respect Sans in a way he had never truly experienced. Sure, he had been a recognizable face in the local comic scene, the friendly smile at Grillby’s every other night, the playful hotdog peddler in Hotland, sentry and judge for the royal family, but never . . . this. If the swath of gifts and well wishes in his hospital room hadn’t been enough proof, Asgor went far enough as publicly honoring him. He hadn’t knighted him, thankfully—a fact Sans could not celebrate more—but he did proclaim something more touching than that.

He named a star.

As a human, the first mention of this honor had underwhelmed you. Humans named stars all the time for science, for romance, for shits and giggles. What you hadn’t understood was that, to monsters, this meant far more than looking up and picking a distant flicker.

Their people had evolved from stardust. While humans had a touch of this magic in them, monsters churned with this fire as their lifeblood. The celestial bodies, their very beginnings, were esteemed with enough reverence to be gods.

Their banishment to the Underground had been especially cruel for this fact, and after such a long separation from the sky, marking their reunion with a new light was more than fitting. After all, when someone’s name was thought with enough intent in so many hearts, a star wasn’t only named; it was born.

It was bright and it was beautiful. When viewed through his telescope, it nestled in a pocket of blue and gold fringed in red, much like the Ring Nebula, only light years from a star they had once named after you.

“i don’t get it,” he admitted to you after the fact. “all i did was make up for somethin’ i did wrong. my motivations weren’t exactly heroic either.”

“Not all knights wear armor, Sir Sans the Star.”

“heh . . . and just what’re you gettin’ at, fair frisk the fart?”

You laughed. “It doesn’t matter why you did it,” you said. “You still did it. You brought back the dead, Sans. You deserve to be thanked for that, don’t you?”

You knew Asriel hadn’t been the one he wanted to resurrect. Even after the members of HEART had disbanded, he delved into the dark in search of Wingdings until his phalanges bled and his magic ran dry. All of you had begged him to relent, Asgore more than anyone. Not until every inch of the Underground’s remains had been scoured did he finally lose hope.

At least now, his brother’s name did not wither from memory like a dream in the morning light. For the first time, he could mourn him freely. He could share memories with those who knew him, find understanding in kindred spirits, and heal.

As one year on the surface came to a close, he finally found the courage to destroy the machine.

The spring sun crisped dewdrops from dandelions as you and Sans strode across his overgrown lawn. The skeleton brothers’ house, a cozy little two story chalet, stood half embedded in the steep hillside behind you. Its stilted, elevated porch overlooked miles of green forest and a babbling river inlet at the knoll’s foot, just as he had remembered. A long road wound atop the hill’s peak, passing from driveway to driveway to outline a comfortably spaced neighborhood. In the distance, Mount Ebott reached among smaller peaks for white clouds in a gold and pink sky.

Under your arms, you each carried a folded mesh lawn chair. Matte black aviator sunglasses masked Sans’ eyes, though a cyan glow smoked behind the left lens. A pair of bright purple shields blocked your own. Following behind in a cloud of blue magic, the rusty, tattered block of a machine he called a “temporal flux manipulator” hovered helplessly a meter off the ground.

A safe distance from the coyote bushes dotting the property line, Sans shook out his chair and tossed it down beside a patch of naked buckwheat. You followed suit and plopped into your seat.

“countdown?” Sans requested.

Before you could start, he had flung the machine unceremoniously upward, nearly thirty feet into the air. At its very peak, he voided his magic. It plummeted into a satisfying cacophonous crash of metal and glass, as if a double decker had smashed into a brick wall.

“Three,” you said.

Two Gaster Blasters materialized over his shoulders.

“Two.”

Their unhinged jaws pooled white-hot energy in their gullets.

“One.”

Those wild-eyed dragon skulls unleashed two furious jets of dangerous magic. The light reflected in your sunglasses. Screams of raging power overwhelmed the once peaceful ambiance of nature. You both watched impassively, but perhaps just a little smugly, as what had once been a marvel of science was pummeled down into a flaming mess.

The blasters dissipated, appeased. Both natural and magical fire burned high like a bonfire in front of you. You popped open a bag of marshmallows. Sans, meanwhile, emptied an old yellow envelope into the flames, then shrugged and tossed in the sleeve as well. Blueprint after blueprint shriveled away to embers, never to be crafted again.

“erase that, ya fat gameboy,” he muttered.

Just as he reclined in his chair, a sputter of laughter spooked him out of it again.

“That was five years of our lives and 20 million G in government funding you just blew up.”

Sans whipped around, eye sockets wide and empty. You followed his gaze. The uncooked marshmallow you had been too impatient to wait for fell from your lips.

A lanky skeleton stood somewhat removed behind your chairs, clinging to a small paper bag and his own wrist. An orange laminate wristband hung above his bony palm, rugged from wear, and another rested alongside it in white. The sleeves of his loose, plum colored button-up had been pushed up to his elbows; the buttons down his torso had been fastened incorrectly, off by one. Something like apprehension and hesitation lit the small lights of his eyes, so similar to Sans’ and yet worlds apart.

Sans’ hand shook audibly as he peeled the sunglasses from his face.

Wingdings looked exactly the same as he had nearly a century ago—no longer melted, his body whole—even if those awful cracks still split his skull. They had been mended, only scars now behind a thin but large pair of lopsided circular glasses. Though he had seemed joyful a moment ago, his smile slowly slipped away.

At his heels, a small white dog panted happily. Far behind, at a bend in the road, a black Lincoln idled in park. Asgore stood leaning on the car door, watching from afar.

“I guess,” Wingdings eased past the silence, “it worked. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Basically, I was right; you were wrong. Congrats to me.” A small smile split his face again and his shoulders twitched upward. “Hooray,” he lilted weakly.

Sans had been creeping cautiously nearer, trembling, tracing that silhouette with the star of his left eye. Only inches apart, he touched the wristbands. The white one listed his name, his species, a mental hospital, and an admittance date—almost nine months ago. The orange band simply stated, “SUPERVISION REQUIRED.”

Sans’ face was wet before he realized why. Every thought and feeling had been swept away until now.

“did you really come all the way from the void,” he hardly breathed, “just to rub it in my face?”

Wingdings stared down at him a long moment before his eyelights circled up into a cinched brow. He shrugged again. “Yes?”

Sans bubbled with laughter then, and Dings bubbled back. Next thing you knew, they were piled in each other's bones on the ground, happy, relieved, home. The Annoying Dog danced joyful doggy circles around them with a wildly flapping tail.

From his vantage point, Asgore smiled with relief and found the resolve to approach.

“Oh, hey,” Wingdings said brightly when he noticed you nearing. “One sec.”

He opened the paper bag and rustled around inside. The sound of pill bottles jostling like rain sticks only distracted you a moment before he surfaced something both considerate and serendipitous. Chocolate. Your favorite. A big, thick bar of the good stuff, the kind that melted in the mouth and made for soft and perfect s’mores. Your mouth salivated as you took the brick into your hands. The two of you were going to get along fine.

“One square at a time,” Asgore instructed you firmly.

You nodded.

“nine months?” Sans lamented playfully, tugging at the band around his brother’s wrist. “i coulda given birth by now. what happened? where were you? why . . .” Joy siphoned out of him. “why didn’t i know?”

At this, the anxious guilt Wingdings had forgotten sprang to life again.

“I’ll explain.” Asgore’s broad shoulders blocked the sun like a monument. His large though gentle voice stilled them all.

“Your majesty, I can . . .”

“I am no longer ‘your majesty,’” the great boss monster interrupted Wingdings with a smile. “I am your friend.”

Dings relented, then, even if he fidgeted with the tags wrapped around his ulna and radius. Sans took his hand hostage.

Shortly before Sans had joined HEART, a small team had discovered Wingdings deep in the remnants of Waterfall. They had nearly given up their search when an annoying white dog barked after them ceaselessly. It led them to a dark alcove behind watery curtains, where Wingdings lay huddled in a corner, confused and nearly starved.

“I was all bone,” Wingdings interjected shyly, but no one smiled.

When he received the call that yet another skeleton had been unearthed, Asgore had raced to meet them almost as fast as he had run to meet you—but what he found was not the reunion he had hoped for. His smart, clever friend had been whittled down to a frightened creature with an ever fracturing hold on reality. With the breaking of the barrier, more than his grip on the rift had slipped loose. His mind had lost its bearings into a whirlwind of relentless psychosis. Excluding his early years in the void, Wingdings could not remember enduring an episode darker than this.

Though warned of Wingdings’ catatonia and incoherency, the king of the underground immediately requested to visit him. He was glad he did. Something about seeing Asgore snapped Wingdings out of his stupor and into a brief moment of clarity, long enough to ask for help . . . and beg for the news not to escape, not even to Sans.

“I didn’t want to be seen like that, marbles all over the floor,” Dings said. “And if I couldn’t be helped, well . . . I thought it would be better to stay forgotten.”

‘i didn’t forget you.” Sans’ grip on his brother’s hand tightened. “i mourned you. i thought you were dead.”

‘I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you, Sans,” said Asgore. “Right away. I was torn . . . and the longer I put it off, the harder it became.”

Sans took measure of his heartache and decided it wasn’t worthwhile to blame them, not now. He had learned to forgive Asriel; he could absolve his brother and Asgore of this one misstep. He let the warmth of that metal bonfire and the sight of Wingdings’ tired face smooth over his soul.

“you don’t gotta apologize,” he sighed. “it sounds . . . scary.”

Windings nodded meagerly, but did not elaborate.

Asgore had placed him in a special care ward under the brightest human and monster minds he could assemble. Thankfully, humans had already researched three years ahead on this front. With their combined understanding of monster and human anatomy, they found a combination of physical and magical treatment that worked enough to stabilize him. The rest relied on therapy.

“I’ll have sessions twice a week,” said Dings. “Asgore already agreed to take me, so if you have reservations . . .”

“reserva—the hell are you talking about?” Sans said. He had gripped his little brother by the shoulders, then, harsh at first but quickly gentle. Tears beaded in his eyes. “you think a little hot water’s gonna scare me off? you’ll be lucky if you get me off your heels!”

“It’s not over,” Windings said shakily. “I’m not cured. Something like this doesn’t just go away. It . . . sleeps.”

Sans deflated, then softly clutched him to his chest. Dings lowered his eyes, melting touch-starved into arms he had once lost hope in feeling.

“i know,” Sans answered calmly. “and when it wakes up you don’t gotta face it solo. you’re not alone in the dark anymore. you’re home.”

Sans inhaled deeply, mercifully, as if he hadn’t truly breathed since the day he lost him. Saying the words aloud had released something inside him like puncturing a balloon. Everything felt pure and new: the weight of his brother in his arms; the scent of him intermingled with the neighbor’s freshly-cut grass; the warmth of his breath amid the late summer sunlight bleaching his skull; the glow of his eyes against the bonfire flickering strange their shadows. Nothing would let him forget this, not even the stars that began to glimmer out of hiding.

“you’re home,” he said again, and this time his voice rattled with joy.

Wingdings held him very tightly then, desperately, and with it Sans knew he shared the sentiment. He smiled truly, deeply, never more whole, and hid it for himself in folds of wine purple cloth.

“you made it.”

The End

Hear me now, hope you're listening It's been centuries, least what it seems to me I've been on this road, my eyes glistenin' Our past don't matter, I'm much stronger And fly much farther, soar overseas Finally, see, I'll keep on climbing Ridin' the lightning and I am sure

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I told myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me But this is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

I've been goin', goin' in circles Reoccurring dreams, talkin' in my sleep Then I'm floatin' up to the surface I can finally breathe, I could do anything And I don't know why it's all right And it's not at the same time Then I look up at a blue sky And I know

At times, I really didn't show What was wrong with me, wrong with me I tell myself I cannot grow Without lovin' me, lovin' me This is just the hell that lives inside Tell me now, where to? Please be my guide

"Lovin' Me" - Kid Cudi feat. Phoebe Bridgers

That's it. That's the end. :')

This has been an amazing journey. Thank you, thank you so much for reading through to the end.

I've been considering starting a new fic, a part two so to speak, that follows Wingdings as he reconnects with family and friends and learns to navigate his new life. Plus healing, as well as his mental health and trauma from the void. Maybe romance??? idk. A wholesome slice-of-life thing, much lighter in tone. I have scenes in my head already.

Thank you again. I have a surprise in store, so please don't unsubscribe just yet. ;)

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#undertale #rift #riftfic #ut #undertale fanfic #undertale fanart #chapter 17 #epilogue #the end #sans #frisk #wingdings gaster #wd gaster #gaster #asgore #thank you #i can't say that enough #8th anniversary #undertale anniversary

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lemissingmask · 7 months

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[ID: Sketch of Hardison over the video call and Eliot in the food truck from the scene in the Leverage Redemption Season 2 episode with Eliot's father, with Eliot looking sad and Hardison looking worried. End ID]

Day 3: alt. Separated from loved ones

The sadness of Hardison being separated from Parker and Eliot, especially when Eliot's going through the emotional hell facing his father again after all those years.

Ficlet below the cut

It hurt.

Being away from Parker and Eliot hurt.

Hardison didn’t want to change things. He knew what he was doing was important, that a lot of lives were depending on him doing what only he could do, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Each anniversary with Parker, marking the sort of thing that only Parker would see fit to mark, compensated for by video calls, texts and gifts. The Christmas he wasn’t there for, something he knew would hurt Parker, and then…then it had ended up hurting Eliot so much more. Hardison’s gift, which he knew had delighted Parker, he later found out had led to Eliot being tortured in precisely the worst way Eliot could be tortured. With a drug that could heighten the ever-present torture of his past.

Hardison hadn’t been there for that, not that there would have been anything Hardison could do to help beyond what he knew Parker had done, dragging him to join her and Breanna for the Doctor Who special, and calling up Hardison as soon as Eliot reappeared to force a steady stream of conversation upon him.

Hardison hadn’t ever felt the pain of separation so strongly.

Until now.

Now, when there were tears shining in Eliot’s eyes, the gleam visible even over the screen.

Hardison had known Eliot for over a decade, had been close friends with him for almost all that time.

He had seen tears in Eliot’s eyes only three times before.

The first as he had pulled Hardison from his very nearly early grave, and held onto him like he would never let go.

The second was when Eliot first opened up about his relationship with his father. Admitted he had not seen him for decades. They had fought before he left and Eliot had never been back.

The third, when Nate died.

The tears fell that time. Hardison felt them on his neck as Eliot hugged both him and Parker close.

And now, the fourth time.

And this time, Hardison was thousands of miles away.

Hardison wasn’t even on the same planet this time.

The loneliness and guilt that came with leaving his partners tore at Hardison as he watched Eliot struggle with his emotions, struggling to just form the words, “I don’ know.”

Hardison promised he was there, anytime, if Eliot needed him. It didn’t need saying. Eliot knew it. He knew Eliot knew it, but it was all Hardison could think to say.

And Eliot looked briefly up before lowering his gaze, poised as if about to speak, but said nothing.

In fact, he didn’t find his voice again during that call.

When finally he next heard Eliot’s voice, the job was over and Eliot had once again found his armour, his mask back in place.

“We did the python one!” Parker was grinning, patting one of her hands against Eliot’s eye in case Hardison had forgotten the eyepatch part of that ruse.

Eliot glared that glare with no venom to it, and as Hardison focused his attention on the hitter during Parker’s explanation of the rest of the job, he was relieved to see the small, soft, genuine smile that lingered on his lips throughout.

It was difficult to see clearly, and took some time to be certain of it over the video feed, but it was there. Hardison had no doubt about it, about the smile, and about the touch of lightness now in Eliot’s eyes.

It was a relief, it cheered Hardison up, but damn how he wished he was there, with them, to see that smile and that lightness in person.

He just hoped it would still be there when finally Hardison was back with them.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 3: alt. Separated from loved ones #leverage redemption #alec hardison #eliot spencer

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non-un-topo · 8 months

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He, Dreamless by nizzuto

Part 1 of I don't see the sun (I know it's there)

Through the tear-away of waves and the vastness of oceans and the separation of the three of them, there remains the legend of true love and the infinite fight to get back to it.

A gift for the incredibly talented @guarncre, whose gorgeous fic (and every single fic since) I adore so much. Few fics have so effectively simultaneously ripped me apart and put me back together, and swallowed me up with every word. These drawings have been a long time coming, but I really wanted to show my love for the fic by attempting to capture its evocative storytelling and imagery. And this is my call to everyone to go read it, now! Right now!

[Image description under cut]

[I.D.] Two digital drawings of Joe and Nicky, respectively, depicting scenes from nizzuto's fic He, Dreamless.

Joe is standing alone in a dark brick tower, visible down to his waist. His head is tilted down, his eyes closed, and he has a melancholy expression on his face. Only one of his arms is visible, his hand gently curled over his chest. His hair is long and loose, a few curls lit by moonlight. A deep red garment is draped over his shoulders. Behind him is a small arched window with bars, where a bright moon attempts to shine through. He is half-lit and half in shadow. A small signature in the bottom left corner reads, "Siggy, '23".

Nicky is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head tilted up and painted with bright, almost heavenly moonlight. He is in a hole underground, and the dark ground can be seen surrounding him. He is wearing a tattered uniform, the details of his clothes mostly hidden in shadow. His hair has been cut short and uneven, as has his beard. He is reaching up with one hand, the tip of his finger poking through the bars above his head. He wears an expression of longing. The moonlight is casting streaks through his fingers onto his face. He's looking at the same moon as Joe. The same signature as the first image is written on the bottom right corner.

#tog #the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #tog fic rec #all my love to you my friend <33 thank you for your gorgeous writing. it always feels like a precious folk tale or an ancient adventure.#siggy draws #GO READ IT!!!!! I tried my best not to spoil anything!!!#and trust me you don't want spoilers! you will be on the edge of your seat it is intense and so so gut-wrenchingly good #chapter 4 especially had be fucking shaking. and now i need to re-read it before the next semester starts!!!#also the images might look a little small or weird bc tumblr. i recommend a zoom-in for details ;_;#i added a veeeeery light texture over both of them and it might wash them out a little idk

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mariaxxxxx · 3 months

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The love you offer me (Zemo x Female Reader One-Shot)

Summary: Short stories of how Helmut J. Zemo destroyed his heart.

Warnings: 18+ sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, pussy eating, anguish, depression, separation, unprotected sex, cream pie, pregnancy, loss of a child, manipulation, abusive relationship.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

Work count: 9.352

🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣 🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣🟣

Helmut J. Zemo was like no one You had ever met before. Although he is a very vindictive man, he is actually the ultimate embodiment of manipulation, as he is able to carefully plan and execute every step necessary to accomplish his goals. Despite his intense behavior and capacity for extreme violence and destruction, Helmut possessed a more pleasant side to his personality. He was a family man, a loving companion, with a passion for collecting art and high-value cars, and even dancing in a nightclub.

Maybe it was his pleasant personality that led you to him in the first place. The charismatic, respectful and passionate Helmut Zemo who would never hurt You. Helmut is good, but not in the way everyone thinks. He's good at wooing you with expensive trips and gifts, good at making you scream his name on his private plane. He's good at taking you out of reality, destroying your mind when you're under him. He's good at making You beg to be ruined. He is good at adorning your neck and wrists with precious jewelry; he is good at kissing you and telling you how much he loves you. Zemo is everything.

Unfortunately, he was also good at breaking your heart into tiny pieces without any chance of concert. He was good, excellent and perfect in reducing You to nothing more than a broken doll.

(…)

You still remember the first time you saw him. You were a simple, new waitress at a nightclub in Madripoor. On your first day on the job, you were already cleaning tables, serving drinks and keeping the cash register full, even if it meant losing precious nights of sleep. You were more than grateful for that. Staying in Madripoor, in the upper city, was really expensive and after his father's death things really got difficult for his side. Unfortunately for him, his damned father had wiped out his bank accounts with gambling and drinking, leaving nothing but negative accounts. After burying them the bills arrived; rent electricity, food, and hospital and burial bills. You wouldn't be able to maintain everything with a simple part-time job and, to your delight, your colleague Nathan offered you the chance at employment.

It was a dangerous place indeed. With rude men, women of dubious reputation and corrupt foreigners, but the money at the end of the night made it all worth it. There was also protection exercised over site workers; it wasn't uncommon for a funny guy to try his luck by touching you under your skirt. You were a pretty and delicate little thing for the place and that attracted curious people as to why a pretty girl like You stopped in a place like that. Countless times Mark, the security guard, had to chase away mean men and jealous women to keep you alive.

One night, like any other, the most bizarre version of Charles' little angels you've ever seen appeared; the damned winter soldier, the smiling tiger and a man in a big fur coat. You thought it was fun. But confusion soon ensued at the scene when the Winter Soldier attacked some men, causing a general fight. You were hiding behind the counter when his gaze met yours. Maybe, if You weren't so enchanted by those damn eyes, you would have noticed the pain behind it. In an almost supernatural way, You struggled to keep your balance as he continued to stare in your direction.

The moment was interrupted with the departure of the three men and the news that the club would be closed for the rest of the night. The way home was strange, not to mention funny. His gaze never left your idle mind, sending shivers down your spine and contractions in your stomach. You remember finding him handsome and old, older than you, but that didn't matter after all he was beautiful. You slept that night with him in your head like a teenager discovering her first love.

A week later You found him while walking through the streets of the upper city carrying bags; You had received payment and decided to stock up on supplies at home by going to the market. You were distracted watching the ships parked at the pier that you didn't notice someone going in the same direction, they collided quickly and you didn't have time to stop it. You struggled to keep your balance, failing to fall to the floor with your bags. You opened your eyes, fighting the embarrassment, and saw some of your purchases scattered across the floor.

"Are you well?" A voice with a thick accent. You moved your head quickly ready to trash talk the man, but something stopped you.

There he was, the man from the nightclub, the one who would rip your heart out of your chest, at that time You didn't know. For some reason, you bit your tongue to avoid the curses and opened your mouth to show the most beautiful smile.

“I’m fine” You said as you stood up.

"He is sure? I am really sorry." He apologized again. You thought the attempt to alleviate all the embarrassment was cute.

With his help, you gathered up the fallen products on the floor, trying to ignore how his touch made your heart flutter as he handed you a can of peas. After making sure everything was collected, You turned on your heel about to leave. His hand held your forearm keeping you in place. The heat that came from his touch took you to heaven for a few brief minutes only to be replaced by a slight disappointment when he took it away.

You looked at him, trying to say something funny about the situation, anything that would make you seem less clumsy, but you couldn't. The brown eyes were looking at You. No, they were marking You. You couldn't move or speak.

"Everything is fine." You said after a long minute of silence. "Thank you for helping me."

“Let me do something to make up for this misfortune.” He said. “I can take her home. My car is parked right there.”

His cheeks heated at the tempting but dangerous proposition. Madripoor was a den of outlaws and fugitives. You wouldn't risk your safety with a stranger no matter how handsome he was.

“I prefer to walk.” You were definitely being petulant and he seemed amused by it.

“Stop being stubborn.” You didn't miss the authoritative tone in his voice. “You’re full of bags and you just got hurt. I just want to take care of You.”

“My parents taught me not to trust strangers.” You said amusingly. “But if it pleases you You can walk home with me.”

It wouldn't hurt to flirt a little; after all, you were young and single in front of a handsome man. Sometimes, you blamed your naivety for allowing yourself to be carried away so easily by him, being at the height of your youth and ready to experience all the good things in the world. You allowed yourself to be swept away with a simple bump into the curb. As you sunk into his smile, his hand brought you back to reality. A comforting touch on your arm and a friendly expression on your face.

"Let's go."

He walked you home and offered to even carry your bags. The path was filled with conversations.

“Are you from Madripoor?” You questioned.

"No." He said. “I'm here on business.”

“I saw you at the club the night the Winter Soldier showed up, but you looked different. You wore a funny coat.”

He let out a little laugh. Cute.

"Oh yeah." You rounded a corner. “I was helping an old friend.”

“You guys made a mess. We had to clean everything up the next morning.”

“Do you work at that place?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice and it bothered you briefly. It wasn't one of the best jobs in the world, but it was still a job and it paid all the bills.

"Yes." You said with a firm voice. “I work waiting tables, sometimes making drinks, sometimes cleaning and sometimes taking care of the cash register. I do everything."

“Do your parents allow you to work there?”

You looked at him, in disbelief to hear something so silly. You were young, but not too young to ask your parents for permission – if You still had them.

“My mother left when I was little and my father died.” You said. “But that doesn’t matter since I wouldn’t need their permission to work.”

"Of course not. You’re a big girl now and you can take care of yourself.”

If you were a little smarter at that time you would have been able to capture the tone of eroticism in his voice when he said those words, but at that moment you thought it was funny. The conversation was interrupted when you arrived at your residence. You stopped in front of your building and looked at it.

“Thanks for following along.”

“I must be grateful for allowing me to accompany you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a pretty girl by my side.” He winked and you smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up once again.

"You are very kind." His words came out as a whisper, even though it wasn't his intention.

He reached into his back pocket, took out a black cell phone and handed it to You.

“Write down your number.” He instructed. “I would like to talk to you more.”

You put your number on his cell phone, convincing yourself that this was all just a quick flirt with an older man. How wrong you were.

(...)

You underestimated how flirtatious and charming Helmut would be. You thought he would just take you to bed and disappear before dawn, but that wasn't what happened. You spent hours sharing text messages that would evolve into phone calls and, later, romantic dates. Days with him turned into weeks and, without warning, into months. He wasn't at all interested in fucking you and leaving, no, Helmut was different; he spoiled her with expensive dates and exorbitant gifts. Before you knew it, you were falling for him.

You had been dating for four months when he took you to bed for the first time. It was good, but clumsy and quick. Helmut made her cum that night, but he himself had finished quickly with just a few thrusts. You didn't mind finishing quickly since the man had brought a beautiful orgasm out of you with his fingers and tongue. In the eighth month, you and he made your relationship official. Helmut took you to a restaurant in the upper city. The food was good, the waiters were polite and the atmosphere was pleasant. He gave her a simple and delicate necklace; with a gold chain and a pendant with a design that resembled an H. You thought the H symbolized the initial of his name. He placed the necklace around your neck and stood in front of you to admire it. At that moment, you noticed emotions passing through your face, love, longing and sadness. He covered it up with a smile.

“Wear it always, my dear.” He said as he played with the pendant. “It would break my heart if You took it away.”

You wore that necklace without ever taking it off your neck. You were in love and would do anything to make him happy. What you didn't expect was to be fired from your job. When You demanded an explanation, your former boss just gave a disinterested shrug.

“Orders from above.”

Of course, the bastard wouldn't say anything more than that. In Madripoor, loudmouths didn't have happy endings. You returned home frustrated that night, wondering how you were going to support yourself now. You had no family or studies to guarantee you a good job, all that was left were part-time jobs and bars with a dubious reputation. Still, you needed to find something quickly, as the month would soon end and new bills would arrive.

When he got home, his cell phone beeped in his pocket with a new message from Helmut; the man who won a place in your heart in just a few weeks. The message only said that he would pick her up that night for a date. So authoritative You thought. Your current state didn't allow you to have fun, but you swallowed all your anguish to be with him. You might not have fallen in love so quickly if he was just attractive; a pretty European faces to look at on a sunny afternoon. Something superficial, like the designer handbags in the window that you wanted but would never have. Deep down, deep down, You knew there was something wrong with falling in love so quickly, but who could blame You? The man was simply perfect.

After reflecting for a moment, you walked to the bedroom to improve your swollen face from crying and look pretty for him. He showed up in his luxury car at the appointed time, Helmut was always so punctual. You sat down next to him and gave him a small peck.

"Where are we going?" You asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"A surprise." He whispered with a false air of mystery.

Helmut took you to the pier that night where a huge white yacht was waiting for you.

“My god” You sighed as you came across the grandeur of the yacht. Helmut stood beside you, his hand on your waist guiding you inside.

“Come, I want to show you everything.”

He introduced you to the deck, the captain's cabin, the crew, the room you would share for the night. After the short tour You sat at a table set on the deck with exquisite dishes under the starlight.

“What a great surprise.” You said with a big smile. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“It saddens my heart. A girl like you deserves everything the world has to offer.”

When he tells you this your heart jumps out of your chest. After all, no one had ever loved you like this to the point of spoiling you with such beautiful things. The moment of joy was replaced with sudden distress as You, for the first time, realized the vast difference in social class between You. Helmut was a fit, cultured and rich man. You were just a young thing without a family, education or job.

“Helmut.” You started talking. “What will happen to us?”

“What do you mean, darling?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s just…” You took a deep breath. “...we've been dating for a few months and I...it's just...We're so different.”

“Oh, my dear I know I'm too old for You.”

You scolded yourself for not being good with words and causing that misunderstanding. You didn't want to hurt him, so you recanted as quickly as you could.

"It's not that." You said it too loudly. “It’s just that you’re so rich and I’m me. I don’t even have my job anymore.”

"I know." He raised the glass of white wine to his lips. “I asked them to fire you, I didn’t want you working in that dangerous place with men of ill repute.”

“Helmut!” You exclaimed indignantly. “I needed that job. How will I support myself?”

"I will take care of you." There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he said this.

Maybe it was passion speaking too loudly, but you didn't question him any further and just allowed yourself to be taken care of by him. You talk that night, there was no room for silence at that table. He told him his story; about Sokovia, the Avengers, the prison, about Sam and Bucky and how he was now an international fugitive. In normal situations, an abrupt reaction would be expected, but you didn't do it. At that point, You were sure that you loved this man and that he loved you to the point of trusting You so much to tell him all his problems. You comforted him as he told you about his family buried in the rubble of New Gadi after the Avengers battle and the killer robot, Ultron, created by them.

You smiled beside him as he recounted the antics of his son, Carl. You comforted him when he shared a close bond with his father. When he started talking about his late wife with so much love and devotion a spark lit in You because of the way he spoke; Helmut exercised such devotion over the woman that she could be his own private goddess. You saw the sadness, longing and love run through his eyes. You ignored the jealousy and resentment by convincing yourself that she was dead.

“So, you’re telling me to run away alongside you?” You ask in disbelief. You were sitting on the deck floor, your legs spread across his lap, his hands lightly brushing your skin.

"Yes." He says with a mischievous smile. “There is nothing for You here. Come with me and I will give you everything.”

You accepted the invitation as there was nothing for You in Madripoor.

You guys spent a week or two, you're not sure, on the yacht going from place to place across the ocean. You and him talked a lot, drank a lot and fucked a lot. To his surprise, Helmut took her to Germany. You disembarked from the yacht on a Sunday night. On the way to the hotel You tried not to show all your perplexity at being in a completely new place. You had never left Madripoor before. The biggest surprise was the hotel he chose. With a huge reception, golden pillars and employees who guided you to your hotel room.

"Did you like it?" Helmut asked.

You didn't make a point of answering right away, you were too busy, impressed by the large windows with a privileged view of the city.

“I loved it” You shouted while jumping up and down with joy. Helmut laughed behind You at your excitement.

“I’m going to draw a bath. Then let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we need to buy clothes for You.”

“Uhm.” You murmured, still impressed by the grandeur of that room.

With your crazy and sudden impulse to go after one of the most wanted men in the world You didn't have time to grab clothes. Helmut assured You that your belongings in the old apartment would be well taken care of and that the expenses left by You would be paid. Although you were sad to leave some gifts he gave you in his old apartment, he assured you that he would give you others. During the yacht trip, You didn't miss his clothes, preferring to wear his shirts; Helmut had a lot of fun with your lack of underwear and it allowed him to fuck you everywhere on that yacht.

“The bath is ready.” Helmut announced from the bathroom.

With a burst of joy, you went to the bathroom, which turned out to be even more elegant and sophisticated than the large windows. You liked it and quickly got used to that life.

(...)

The time with Helmut was funny, everything seemed to move so slowly. You stayed in Germany for a year and six months, settling in the city of Munich in a small village far from the big center surrounded by trees and stone roads. Helmut was kind to you and taught you to speak fluent German, to dance and differentiate between the different forks that were on the table. He instructed you to go back to studying, although it wasn't his wish, he enrolled you in a semester-long fine arts course at the University of Munich. You didn't hate art, but you didn't identify with it enough to study the subject.

In the end, despite yourself, you took the course and finished it with honors and letters of recommendation for internships in galleries. Helmut was proud and to congratulate you he presented you with a new wardrobe of haute couture clothes. Your stay in Germany ended with the authorities discovering your existence in the country. You and Helmut fled in the early hours of the morning, heading straight to the airport where his private jet was waiting for you.

“We’ll be fine, my dear.” He said while hugging You.

Leaving Germany was difficult, as you left behind a few friendships and opportunities for a bright future. But You consoled yourself by remembering that you were with him, by his side, and wherever Helmut took you You would be okay.

The next stop was in Spain, on one of the Balearic Islands, where a small but luxurious house was waiting for you. You settled in quickly and to your surprise Helmut introduced you to the Oeznik family butler, an old man with a great sense of humor and loyalty.

“We can have pizza today, Oeznik.” You said as you walked around the kitchen with bare feet carrying dishes from one place to another.

“You should eat something healthier, my lady. You young people love to eat junk.” Oeznik said, watching You walk from one side to the other. “You won’t like your choice.”

“He will like it.” You guaranteed it. “I’m going to order a pizza.”

Oeznik was right that Helmut wouldn't like the pizza.

“You don’t like that kind of thing.” Said Helmut with clear mockery in his voice as You placed the slice in front of him.

"I love pizza." You said, trying to hide your discomfort. “We eat a lot of that in Madripoor.”

“Well, I took you for pizza in Venice and you hated it.” Helmut said with nostalgia in his voice. “You said mixing tomato sauce and pasta was a crime against nature.”

It was the first time Helmut looked at You with dazed eyes. As if he was not seeing You, but seeing someone else.

“We never went to Italy, Helm.” You mutter.

Helmut blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his mind and smiles in your direction.

“Let’s eat the pizza, little dove.”

The nickname was new, You noticed. That night you ate the pizza reluctantly, because with each bite a bitter taste formed in your mouth.

In the following months, Helmut was a very generous man towards You. He gave you a luxury apartment in Ibiza, created a bank account with $3,000,000 so that You could have a good life in case he was arrested again and enrolled you, again, in another semester arts course. You took the course reluctantly, because you didn't identify with it, but it made you happy so you were happy, and you had the advantage of learning a new language; Helmut joked about how smart You were at learning new languages in such a short time. To his delight, the course ended in exactly four months. You and he celebrated with a candlelit dinner by the sea.

"Marry me?" Helmut asked with his knees on the floor and a diamond ring in his hand.

"Yes." You said in one breath.

“Baroness Zemo.” He said as he put the ring on her finger. “I will make you very happy, little dove.”

You hugged him, kissed him and swore your eternal love to him. After dinner he dragged you back home; you walked through the door holding each other without separating your lips from each other. One moment you were on the stairs and the next you were in the bedroom. In bed, with a shirtless Helmut on top of you. His clothes disappeared. His panties and bra were the only things covering his body. His hands were touching you, exploring his skin while his lips devoured yours. Helmut knew what he was doing. He was reducing you to dust.

His hand grabs your panties, his finger trailing down your covered slit. A wet spot made him smile proudly.

“Always so wet for me, my little dove.” He whispered in her ear. You tried not to think about how much that nickname bothered you, but to your delight his fingers began to trace circles around your clit. Erasing everything from your mind. “Do you like this, little dove? Do you like how I make you feel?”

The lack of response made him accelerate his movements. His head spun at the sensation. He was torturing You; The moisture in her panties increased, creating a slight discomfort with the contact between the wet fabric and the hot flesh.

"Answer me. Use the damn words, little dove.” His voice was deep, his accent stronger and more authoritative.

“Yes, Helmut.” You said. He kissed you, his tongue finding its way to his.

He pulled away, kissing his way down to her covered breasts where he nibbled on her right nipple through the lacy fabric. You moaned loudly at the stimulation. He bent down completely, with his head between his legs, freed himself from her completely soaked panties. He brought his face closer to her wet pussy, inhaling her scent. He traced a line between her folds, playing with her pussy. Lick after lick, Helmut placed his lips on her folds and began to suck her clit.

You screamed at the quick action and pleasure. His fingers teased your entrance, slowly massaging your arousal until he finally slipped one of them inside and then another. Helmut had deliciously large fingers, bigger than his own, and he reached the g-spot with flying colors. The way he moved them, with such agility, was breathtaking. The established rhythm was specular. His fingers pumped in and out of You while his tongue stimulated your clit, making You feel better than ever.

Suddenly, he lifted his face away from You, but his fingers kept moving inside. His lips glistened with a mixture of his own saliva and his arousal. That and the damn smile on his face made her belly tighten.

“Enjoy little dove.”

The tightness in his stomach intensified, a tingling started from the tips of his toes, went up his legs, going to his stomach causing an explosion of pure ecstasy. You felt his soul leave his body for a few seconds and return. You were stuck in your little world of satisfaction as Helmut got rid of his pants and underwear. He placed himself on top of you, both hands rested on the sides of his face. The feeling of his dick, dripping with pre-cum, made You look down.

Helmut had a dick that was large in length and thickness, half tilted to the right, white and with a reddish head with a drop of pre-cum leaking out. You reached out to his arm and touched him. His breath hitched as his palm closed around his member to stroke it. His thumb slipped on the tip, making his dick twitch in circles in his hand.

"Little Dove." He groaned,

Her hand trailed up and down, down and up, pumping him as he grew harder and wetter. It was gentle touches, but it was driving him crazy. After some more stimulation, Helmut moved his hand away and positioned himself at her entrance. He spread her legs, with his right hand guided his cock between her slit. A brief lapse of consciousness appeared in his brain as he remembered the lack of protection. You didn't use contraceptives, as Helmut thought they were a poison bomb, always preferring to use condoms.

“Helmut.” You said between moans. “The condom...”

“We don’t need her.” He said come in and cuddles.

You moaned loudly when you felt him inside you. The feeling of having him without the latex was simply sublime. With quick movements, the head of his dick reached her spongy spot. The sensation of it made your eyes roll back, electricity course through your body aware of what his cock was doing. His legs opened wider for him. You felt it everywhere. The deeper he went, the more pleasure you felt. His hands grab his hair, pulling it lightly into fists.

Like the popping of a bottle You have, once again, reached climax. You have never been so satisfied in your life. Helmut fucked you like there was no tomorrow. You felt him go faster, riding out his own release, and when he finally did, releasing all of his semen inside of You a name escaped his lips.

“Heike.” He said between whispers and moans.

Helmut pulled out of You and rolled onto his side, falling asleep. You remain in bed, rubbing your face with your hands, hurt from hearing him cry out for the dead woman as he spilled himself inside you. It was an unraveling feeling, as if strong waves flooded your heart with sadness and disappointment. You even tried to convince yourself that you heard wrong. It wasn't her name, You thought. Maybe, it was something in his mother tongue that resembled his name, maybe he just blurted it out in his frenzy, maybe he didn't love you that much and thought about his wife every time You shared a bed.

At that moment, You found yourself crying yourself to sleep at the possibility of Helmut thinking about his late wife every time he was with You.

(...)

Things were great for a while. Helmut spoiled you, your stay in Spain increased, the preparations for the wedding were almost ready and sex became constant. You memorized the things Helmut loved during sex. The way he moaned when You were on your knees with his dick in your mouth, massaging his balls. The way his eyebrows do when You ride him. You even noticed how quickly he finished when You let him eat his anus. So things were great, but there was still growing discomfort.

Helmut still moaned for Heike every time he came. You decide to pretend not to notice his late wife's name slip past his lips every time. You just hid in the bathroom, with the shower running and burst into tears. You never imagined that being by his side would have you competing for affection with a dead woman. After all, she was rotting underground, while You were there in the prime of your youth with all the love and affection to give. You just suppressed all those feelings and pretended everything was fine, pushing all those thoughts away and convincing yourself that he loved you. When you were convinced of this, you would take a long shower to hide your swollen face and leave the bathroom with a big smile.

The wedding took place in mid-July, the seventeenth to be exact. You exchanged your vows in a minimalist ceremony with the presence of Oeznik, a priest and a justice of the peace to establish the prenuptial agreements.

“I promise to love, respect you and make you happy for the rest of our lives.” Helmut recited the vows while placing the ring on her finger.

“I promise to love you, respect you and yours until death do us part.” You recited your vows when you put the ring on his finger.

“You can kiss the night.” Said the priest.

Helmut kissed you with so much passion that you truly believed again that he loved you. The party was held at home, a dinner between the two of you, just to celebrate the union of two souls. Due to his fugitive status, he was not allowed more than that.

Married life was easy. You instructed the servants how to take care of the house, you often went to the beauty salon to look beautiful and you had sex with your husband whenever asked. You could live like this for the rest of your life next to him if it weren't for Heike's growing presence in your lives. After being married for a while, being called Heike didn't just extend to bed, but to everyday life. The first time was during a walk through the streets of Barcelona.

“I love this coat.” You pointed to a window where a mannequin was dressed in a cloth coat with colorful abstract designs.

“It’s so messy.” He said. “I thought you liked more minimalist clothes.”

“Helmy.” You groaned. “I love messy clothes. What would our lives be without neon clothes and red boots?”

He laughed at your words and said something that would break your heart forever.

“You look so different, Heike.”

Your eyes burned into his dark ones, anger welled up inside You, ready to explode like a volcano. You let out a nervous sigh as you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. You try to swallow the solutions that reached your throat.

“I...” He starts to say, taking a step forward to take you in his arms, but you move away, shaking your head.

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

You leave him standing on the sidewalk and run in the opposite direction, blending into the crowd. You spent the whole day on the streets trying to forget the humiliation and pain caused in your heart. After a long period of walking and reflection, you convince him that everything is fine and that he loved you for who you were. You came home at night and found him in the living room. Helmut walked up to You hoping to apologize.

"Everything is fine." You said.

You took one more look at him before going up to the bathroom and locking yourself in there. You turned on the shower and burst into tears and sobs. Deep down, you knew, you always knew. He didn't love you. He tried to turn You into his dead wife; with the art courses, the language classes, the new clothes, the strange nicknames. You were just a substitute, an object to replace what he had lost.

You took a long shower, got dressed in comfy pajamas, and did your nightly skin care routine. When going down the stairs that led to the room You found Helmut walking with a pizza box in his hand towards the stairs. He stopped and smiled when he saw you.

“I ordered pizza, my favorite.”

Oh! That nickname. It had been so long since he called you that.

"I like pizza." You whispered.

"I know." He responded equally in a whisper. “I want to spoil you tonight. I’ll start with the food.”

You smiled at his gesture. You sat by the fireplace where you ate pizza and wine, talked banal things and laughed at silly things. When they finished, Helmut took you to the bedroom where he mounted you and fucked you hard. When he came it was his name that left your lips, You were happy about that. It was his name he said and not hers, but his happiness was short-lived. For in his sleep Helmut cried out to her. By Heike.

You got up and walked to the bathroom where you cried through the night, returning to bed before sunrise. When the day started, You just went downstairs, smiled and shared breakfast next to him. He didn't bring it up and you pretended everything was fine. He still said her name at inopportune moments where you pretended not to hear. His trips to the bathroom at night were becoming more and more frequent.

(...)

You and Helmut migrated to another country. You didn't know the exact location, but according to Oeznik, you were close to what would have once been Sokovia. You have settled into an immense residence, with several bedrooms, bathrooms and living rooms worthy of the title of Baron. The property was large; surrounded by trees and high walls with large silver gates.

"It's so big!" You exclaimed as you got out of the car and came across the mansion. “I’ve never seen a house as big as this one.”

“It’s been in my family for generations.” Helmut said. “I had to rebuild it after the fall of Sokovia, but here we are. You need to see your new home, Baroness.”

Helmut guided you inside where a line of employees waited for you. He introduced you one by one and indicated their services.

“They are here to serve your Baroness.” He whispered in her ear. “I know you will be a great lady for this property.”

“Yes” You mumbled. “I’m going to be a good lady.”

You really were a good lady; The employees tolerated you and things went reasonably well. However, the comparisons with the old lady still echoed between the walls, although Oeznik tried to hold the servants' tongues, it was not uncommon. You heard whispers among them about how Mrs. Heike had more class, how Mrs. Heike knew the Baron's tastes, how Mrs. Heike was beautiful, just as Mrs. Heike had given birth to a healthy boy. You tried to persuade Helmut to fire them, but he disapproved saying how difficult it was to find trustworthy people with his current fugitive status, he said that the former employees were trustworthy and Sokovia's last legacy. You just accepted your situation by hiding in the bathroom every time you heard her name echo.

“What was she like?” You questioned Oeznik one day as you walked through the estate. You felt trapped inside the house and decided to walk a little, Oeznik offered to keep you company.

“Madam...” said the old man with a clear sign of reprimand.

“Everyone loved her.” A bitter taste formed in his mouth. “Please tell me about him.”

“She was pretty.” He started to say. “She had noble blood in her veins and class in her feet. Their marriage was arranged, like all Sokovian royal marriages, but it worked. The young Baron loved her as soon as he saw her.”

You felt your throat close and your stomach tighten with the jealousy that formed.

“Did Helmut love her?”

"Yes."

You felt her eyes burn. You didn't know why she felt this way now, You knew how important she had been, the most important in Helmut's life, and there You were, wallowing in her insecure questions. His body shuddered in the icy breeze.

“Do I look like her?”

You needed to sink even deeper with your damned questions, which you knew the answer to, but you needed to hear it from someone else to torture yourself even more.

“A little, ma’am.” Oeznik seemed hesitant to continue. “You have similar trajectories, I would say. The courses taken in Germany and Spain, the way he dresses and even the necklace around his neck, it was the same necklace that the young Baron of Heike wore when he made their courtship official. He also called her his little dove.”

You let out a nervous sigh, barely holding back the tears. You turn and walk quickly towards the house, leaving the old butler behind. You feel your heart slowly submerge under the waves of pain. Your nimble feet guide you to a familiar place, the bathroom. You pass through the long corridors and the employees who whisper about your deplorable state. Reaching the bathroom door was a relief, because as soon as you reached the door, tears fell from your eyes.

Your mind reflects on how, little by little, Helmut turned you into her. He instructed you to dress like her, to study like her, to be like her. You were just a clay doll in the hands of the skilled sculptor to be sculpted to his whim. You wanted to leave, get as far away from him as possible, but as you stood there, feeling your heart breaking, you realized you couldn't leave. The love you felt for him kept you together, even the mention of leaving him could open a wound in your soul that You were fighting to stop.

After the tears dried, You performed your usual ritual; shower, cleanse and go downstairs as if nothing was happening. As if your soul wasn't broken, your bones aching and your heart stabbed. You found Helmut in his office carrying papers back and forth. He smiled when he saw you and patted your thigh indicating for you to sit there. You sat up and snuggled in, placing your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne.

“Helmut.” You mumbled. "You love me?"

“Of course I love dove.” He kissed her forehead and turned his attention back to the papers.

Little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove, little dove. That word echoed in your ears and you bit your tongue to avoid crying.

The days passed quickly when You established a routine. You alternated between instructing the employees and paying attention to Helmut. Comparisons with the former lady seemed to have diminished drastically; Helmut no longer cried out to her in his dream, and the servants no longer whispered. You knew that there was a finger of the old butler behind this, but you chose to believe that it wasn't that. You preferred to believe that you had finally achieved your rightful place in Helmut's heart and the full respect of the employees. His trips to the bathroom no longer existed, that is, more or less. You no longer went to the bathroom to cry, but you often went to the bathroom to vomit.

It happened on a Saturday morning. You woke up early and left Helmut sleeping in bed, you walked to the kitchen to eat something since your stomach demanded food. You found a loaf of bread on the counter, when you put it in your mouth a wave of nausea came and you ran to the bathroom. After that morning you vomited for any nonsense.

"Enough." Helmut exclaimed when he saw you kneeling on the toilet putting out all the dinner. “We’re going to the doctor now.”

"It is not necessary." You said. "I am..."

You were interrupted by another wave of nausea where you let it all out again. The next day, the doctor came and diagnosed you with severe food poisoning; He recommended drinking plenty of fluids, avoiding heavy foods and using lactobacilli. You followed all the recommendations, but the nausea continued and with it came other symptoms; her blood pressure plummeted with every movement, her breasts felt like they wanted to explode, her period didn't start, the cramps kicked her ass and the fatigue was constant.

You spent half the day sleeping and the other half vomiting. It wasn't uncommon for Helmut to find you dozing in some corner of the house; You once dozed off while eating dinner. Helmut called the doctor again, this time; he diagnosed you with a virus. You constantly took anti-flu medications, drank lots of water and ate foods rich in fiber and vitamins. But the symptoms didn't go away at all. Helmut was visibly irritated by the doctor's incompetence in curing you.

On a Monday morning, you were in the kitchen devouring bread filled with ketchup and peanut butter; You had woken up that morning with a strange desire and decided to fulfill it, the crazy mixture proved to be delicious. A maid, named Jenna, found you in the kitchen eating your strange food.

"Madam." Greeted Jenna. “Can I help you with something?”

"Don't worry." You said with your mouth full. “I just felt like eating bread with ketchup and peanut butter. I must be going crazy, but this feels so good.”

“Are you having cravings?” The maid asked.

"Yes. Cravings, nausea, sleepiness and sore nipples. The doctor said it has a virus, but nothing is helping.”

You took a generous bite of your bread as Jenna seemed to ponder something.

“Did you take a pregnancy test?”

Her throat closed and you choked on a piece of bread stuck in your throat. Jenna ran to help you. You coughed, watered, and sniffled as you choked on the piece of dough. After the feeling passed, you looked at the maid in disbelief that she would suggest something so absurd.

"Do not say silly things. I can’t be pregnant.”

"Why not? She is a married woman. I'm sure the Baroness has been fulfilling her duties as a wife.”

Sex in your marriage was one thing You couldn't complain about. Helmut fucked you often and always ejaculated inside you; the use of condoms was no longer necessary. It wasn't in her plans to be a mother one day, but the idea of carrying a part of her and Helmut in her womb caused good feelings.

“Jenna.” You started talking. “I could go into town and buy some pregnancy tests.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Jenna brought five pregnancy tests from different brands. You used them all and to her surprise, all five gave a positive signal. You look down, moved by what you see and convinced yourself that you wanted this. With the tests in hand, You want this more than you could ever imagine. Your smile is dulled by the tears that fall silently on your features, You needed to tell him.

He loved you, the life you built together and he loved children. The loss of his son broke a part of him that he could never get over. Now, You had the chance to make him happy again, rebuild a new family. For hours, trapped in the bathroom, you try to gather the courage to tell him. Every time the time approached, you found excuses not to leave. But his plans were thwarted by a knock on the door.

“Little dove, are you there?” It was Helmut's voice behind the door. “Are you sick again? I will call the doctor.”

"No." You screamed, feeling despair flood your senses.

You didn't want him to find out like this, it wasn't fair. You would prepare a space moment where the news would be given and celebrated with kisses. You hide the pregnancy tests in a drawer full of towels and open the door to find him.

"Everything is fine?" He questioned worriedly.

“It’s okay” You reassured him. “Only one got sick quickly.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” You followed him, dinner went well with conversations and jokes between you.

Keeping the secret proved difficult since every time you saw him you wanted to shout from the rooftops about your pregnancy. With Oeznik's help, you prepared a special night for you, complete with typical Sokovian food. It would be simple, Helmut would arrive at home at night where you would have dinner and then you would tell him the news. You took the day to take care of yourself, wanting to look pretty for him, you prepared your hair, did your nails and wore a beautiful purple dress, Helmut's favorite color.

You turned around to admire your appearance in the mirror, it looked beautiful. Her hands caressed her still unchanging stomach, feeling a mix of emotions for generating life in her womb. A silly smile formed on his lips as he imagined how good it would be to have a little boy or girl running down these long corridors with black hair and brown eyes like Helmut's. The feeling was interrupted by knocking on the door.

“Madam, the Baron has already arrived and is in his office.” It was Jenna. “Should I serve dinner?”

"Yes. Serve dinner and release other employees. I want to be alone with my husband today.”

Jenna left leaving You alone in the room. One last look at your reflection, You left the room heading towards the stairs. Your intention was to go to the dining room, but somehow You ended up passing through a door. Behind her were pictures, books and a large Persian rug. Adornments that probably dated back to the medieval age. The house was big and even after so long You hadn't seen all the rooms, it was not uncommon to get lost between the different doors that led to uninhabitable rooms.

Before You have the chance to turn around, voices reach your ears. The nature of the noises was obvious and, from the sounds, they were both having a serious conversation. You recognized Oeznik's soft voice followed by Helmut's Eastern European accented voice. You tried to find the source of the voice and came across a false wall with a vast view of Helmut's office, he and Oeznik seemed immersed in conversation.

"This is not right." Oeznik exclaimed.

You froze in your spot. The old butler never got excited, he always kept a soft and friendly voice. You decided to listen to more of the conversation.

“She is my wife.” Helmut said. “I will do whatever I want.”

“Turn her into the late Mrs. Zemo? For God's sake Helmut. This isn’t doing her any good, the employees comment on her constant trips to the bathroom to cry.”

You wanted to leave, get as far away from them as possible. But as you lay there, holding a piece of your heart, You realized you couldn't move.

“She is not Heike. She never will be.”

Every word that came out of his mouth was meant to hurt you whether intentionally or not. You held firm as you wanted to see where this would lead. You hear Helmut sigh and the echoing words break you forever.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined it was Heike next to me. How many times have I called for her. I almost asked if I could call her that, but instead I did it without permission. I never wanted her, not really. I just thought I would have another chance and I actually did; They are so similar physically and it was easy to compel her to do things that pleased me.”

Helmut was cruel. Helmut never loved You. He played with your heart for his own benefit. Deep down, you always knew, preferring to deceive yourself with small gestures of apology and accepting to play the role of the dead woman. He molded her like a little doll so she wouldn't be alone. He never saw you as a companion, a mind or a human being. You were just a substitute and the child You carried in your womb would soon play the role of the lost son.

A sudden pain hit his chest; his heart was no longer in place. The other times he broke your heart were nothing compared to this. The more his words stuck in her mind, the more intense the pain became. Waves of shock and grief hit his chest as You tried to process what was happening.

His feet retreat, your shaky legs failing as you try to move. One wrong move causes you to fall against a dresser that falls to the floor, causing a loud noise. You hear a surprised gasp from Helmut and, unfortunately for You, he emerges through a false door. With all the strength you have left, you turn to see him.

“Baby” You heard him whisper.

His eyes connect; he knew You had heard every word. His expression reflected the one You had when you heard them. The shock, the surprise and the sadness. He saw the pain on his face, the way you held on to a piece of furniture to keep from collapsing. A flash of regret ran through his eyes when he saw how you grabbed the necklace around his neck. The necklace that belonged to her, the damned Heike. The necklace that, even though he knew what it meant, never left his neck so as not to hurt him.

You lost yourself over the years to make him happy. You allowed yourself to have your heart crushed multiple times just to satisfy you and receive nothing but disappointment in return. He never cared about you and he would never care about the child that was forming in your womb.

“Let’s talk.” You heard him beg. “Let’s order pizza and talk about it.”

You didn't let out a tear when you heard his apology. You also didn't cry when you ripped the necklace from your neck and threw it towards him. You didn't cry when you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room. You didn't cry when Helmut desperately banged on the door clamoring for your attention. You didn't cry, not even when you made the decision to leave, packing all your clothes, shoes and jewelry in your suitcases ready to leave forever; You no longer cried for Helmut J. Zemo. He could go fuck himself for everything he caused you.

(…)

Waking up the next day was relatively easy. You got up, brushed your teeth, skin care routine, passport, suitcases and handbag with intimate items. Everything was in its right place. You closed your bags and left them next to the door. A quick look at the clock you had on your dresser indicating that it was not long before you left that place and never came back. You opened the bedroom door and allowed two servants to enter who took your bags.

“Put them in the car, boys.” You instructed.

"Yes ma'am." They said together leaving the room with their bags.

One last look at the room, You walked out the door heading towards the stairs. You found the bastard at the foot of the stairs waiting for you. He had a swollen face, indicative of a bad night's sleep, with messy hair, something so unusual for him. A part of You liked seeing him so broken. Helmut was selfish and evil. You put an end to his selfishness and evil.

"Let me pass." You demanded the moment he stood in front of you, blocking your exit.

“Please let me...”

“Whatever You have to say, I don’t want to hear it. Get out of my way let me go, stop being such an idiot.”

His own words surprised him. You never had the strength to face him, not really, nor to release the anguish you felt for so long. Your words were met with silence, none of You dared to speak. His breathing became heavy, after a few minutes, Helmut finally gave in and broke the silence.

"Sorry." He whispers.

“That doesn’t solve anything.” You snort.

"I know." he says. "Where are you going?"

Maybe it would be better to just turn around and walk away, before the conversation gets worse. That would have been the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the sadness was not motivated by reason.

“You are a patient and persistent man, I know you will figure it out on your own.”

"Do not go, please." He begged. "Please, do not go. Do not leave me alone. Stay. I will improve how I treat myself and I will never hurt you again. I love you dear."

On a normal day you'd go back to him for a lot less. A few days ago, you would have given him everything, without a doubt. But now, the devotion You had for him was buried. A high wall was built around his heart and not even the warmest words could break it down.

"Stay." He begged again. “It will be different.”

Helmut's love was strange. He appeared to be generous, but he was destructive and cruel. He never had anything to give you other than scraps; it was easy to let yourself be fooled with good charisma. A part, deep in his head, begged you to come back to him. But it wasn't fair to You to allow yourself to live all of this once again and it wouldn't be fair to the child You were carrying. Helmut was not worthy of You, he was not worthy of his son, he was not worthy of anything. You had to save yourself, You had to save what little was left of your heart.

"No."

With the final word You left without looking back. Carrying with him a son that Zemo wouldn't live with, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve anything that came from You. One day, with persistence, he would discover the existence of a child conceived by you, but it wouldn't be You who would tell. As the car drives, you lean your head against the window, caress your stomach and allow yourself to dream of a day that would open your heart again.

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws #zemo x you #marvel mcu #dark!fic #zemo

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randomfoggytiger · 3 months

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Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part IV)

Back on the fic list grind with a part four~!

**Note: Will ghost edit later.**

Loose chronological order below~

@hipsbef0rehands/Millenial_Falcon’s(WBM/WBM)

What do you think Mulder and Scully's best days were, respectively, as children?

He took her onto the navy ship which he he worked, showing her everything from the command room to the engine room. He took her to the tiny bunk beds where the crew slept, the head, and the kitchen. Young Dana looked at the living arrangements in horror. When he took her to the forward dock of the ship and she could see the vast ocean before her. It was then that she understood her fathers love for the sea and adopted the same passion. It was this day that her love and respect for her father grew immensely, and sometimes where she needs to take a break from life and retreat to her happy place, it is on the dock of that ship.

Mulder and Scully come to separate but important realizations as starry-eyed children.

4. Mulder shopping for Scully

It had been easy in the past, with women like Diana and Phoebe, he found the most dazzling expensive piece of jewelry and they were happy. The gifts were nice but he never really put much thought into them. That wasn't Scully.

Post IVF-- Mulder wants to pick the perfect gift for Scully's birthday after the IVF and before the impending millennium.

BED SHARING

Scully continued on with he night-time ritual of putting on her pajamas, fluffing up her pillows, and turning down her sheets, when Mulder emerged from the bathroom. He plopped unceremoniously onto the bed disrupting the sheets that she had just perfected.

Pre-Dating-- Mulder and Scully take their own personal liberties.

20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Heaving herself out of the sunken cushion of the battered chair, she pushed it closer to Mulder’s bedside. Once settled back into the Scully-shaped indent she had managed to create over the last three days, she hesitantly reached out and took Mulder’s hand in hers. Despite his improving condition, fear wound around her heart, squeezing out all hope and replacing it with the heavy weight of despair. He could very easily be ripped from her life once again.

Deadalive Scully waits (and begs) for Mulder to wake up.

A Nice Hike in the Woods (Ao3)

“Mulder, are we out here looking for aliens?”

“No” he chuckled. He held his arms out. They were surrounded by pine trees in various shapes and sizes. “Well…” he said. “Pick one”.

Scully raised her eyebrows looking up and down, questioning him with her eyes.

“No, Scully, a tree…. pick one”

Pre-IWTB Mulder tries to make their unremarkable house a home.

You're told to write/direct/produce a msr scene of your own doing for one of the revival episodes.......go.

Taking her left hand he raised it to the level of their eyes. Gently, he began to play with the silver band that no longer adorned her neck but once again, her ring finger.

“I gave this to you almost 4 years ago. I never made good on my promise.”

Revival Mulder and Scully are back on the road and back together, giddy and happy and ready for the next step.

Babylon Headcanon

“She is a doctor, Scully.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Well, Mulder, I’ve been a doctor for a lot longer and let me tell you, if you ever do anything like that again, I will have you committed.”

“Scully… you know I will, eventually” he said with a smile.

Babylon Mulder cannot, of course, escape a Scully scolding.

You're the only one I trust (archive.org)

A free-floating assortment of The X-Files fics that are fun to scroll down and read.

mad_martha's (annex-files, x-sites)

Pilot Flipped (Ao3)

In contrast to the corridor outside, the office was brightly lit and austerely neat, its untidiest feature being a pinboard near the door that was covered in newspaper cuttings and photographs. Even those were arranged in a semblance of order. There was a desk which, apart from a stack of ageing files, a set of document trays and a slide projector, seemed to be empty of even normal office equipment; and a set of shelves around the walls filled with orderly rows of books and box files. Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any office in the Bureau looking so tidy, and he included the Director's inner sanctum in that assessment.

AU-- Pilot Mulder is assigned to Scully.

9 Minutes

The label inside the blouse collar bore the name of one of Scully's favourite outfitters and as she examined it, noting that the size was also her own, she made a disturbing discovery. Just inside the neck of the blouse lay a small tangled gold chain and cross.

Scully's fingers flew to her own neck, where an identical cross, given to her by her mother on her fifteenth birthday, lay against her skin. What the –

Her thoughts were suddenly jerked away by a distant scrabbling sound, barely audible above the noise of the machines around her....

Scully jumped to her feet. That voice had been familiar. "Mulder!" she shouted, hearing her voice echo horribly.

No reply, but there was a series of thumps and grunts, brought up finally by a loud thud.

AU-- Pilot Scully flashes to the FTF hallway in the 9 minutes she and Mulder lose on the road.

Conversations

There was a pause as she tried to hang onto her anger and hurt, but Scully's innate sense of what was fair wouldn't allow this statement to pass unchallenged. "I don't know about that, Mulder," she observed ruefully. "I can think of a couple of occasions when I haven't been particularly fair to you. More than a couple, if I'm honest."

"I won't argue you with you, but nothing you've done, or imagine you've done, can possibly match how unfair I've been to you over the past five years."

"I don't want to play "my blame's bigger than your blame" either."

Mulder gave a rough chuckle. "Okay."

Pre-Dating-- Mulder and Scully get nudged and scolded by her family (twice) and Skinner (once) before they finally confront their S6 hurts and confess their love... in a cave-in.

@two-microscopes/twomicroscopes's

Sicktember 2022 Day 12: Psychogenic (Ao3)

He swallowed. “Scully, even if that’s what I’ve done to you–”

“Don’t make this about yourself.”

“Take care of yourself.”

S1 Scully's health keeps breaking down in her overexuberance to keep up; and Mulder, worried, tries to look out for her.

Sicktember 2022 Day 1 (Ao3)

“Chicken soup, I said–I said I’d bring you some,” he spluttered.

He was so desolate, it tugged at her heart.

“Buffalo chicken pizza soup, to be specific, I guess.”

Scully is sick and snappy about Mulder's mother henning, but relents.

Sicktember 2022 - Chapter 4

“Do you just want to get into pajamas now?”

“Mulder,” she sighed, slumping onto one bed, “you know they took our luggage.”

Ah, yes, when the vengeful cultists also smashed their rental car’s windows and slit its tires. They were nothing if not thorough. You had to grant them that.

Scully is running a temperature, and Mulder gets her to a motel as fast as he can with slashed tires and missing luggage.

Sicktember 2022 Day 5 (Ao3)

He leaned closer and drew a deep, argumentative breath against his congestion, instead sneezing dramatically.

“Great, now I have your germs all over me.”

Scully insists on taking Mulder home after he keeps sneezing in the office.

Sicktember 2022 Day 20 (Ao3)

They’d last seen each other at that briefing–was that three days ago already? By then even Mulder had admitted this case might not be an X-file.

No, a serial killer was ravaging across DC and their already non-existent work-life balance.

Buried in their office, Mulder swam in a sea of tissues, too.

Scully skips an autopsy to care for her sick, insomniac partner.

Sicktember 2022 Day 3: Painkillers (Ao3)

In the dim light, he could make out Scully’s eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She rolled her head towards him as he leaned down to touch her matted hair. This was worse than he’d been expecting.

Cancer arc-- Mulder rushes to help Scully, reasoning past her refusal to take painkiller meds.

Sicktember 2022 Day 9: Home Remedy (Ao3)

“Scully? Scully!” Mulder called through their adjoining motel rooms’ door.

Faster than a conspirator to a smoke shop, she rushed out of bed and burst into his room.

Post Redux II Mulder's nose bleeds; and Scully rushes in to assess the injury and calm their panic.

Sicktember 2022 Day 10: Excessive Use of Tissues (Ao3)

Here Scully was, curled up with her Capote novella. Only Jeopardy playing in the background split her attention. Oh, and her sickly partner sniffing on her couch.

“Mulder, for the last time, blow your nose.”

“But, Scully,” he whined from her couch, “I just did.”

Dating-- Mulder is sniffly during a cozy night in.

@hamster-on-fire/fade_into_the_dusk_with_me's For The Sake Of Driving (Ao3)

‘I just. I need to drive, Scully.’

It’s trivial & bizarre & it really is too late....

‘Yeah- um, yeah, alright.’ She nods along to herself, as if he can see her. As if it matters.

Car rides shared between Mulder and Scully through the years.

@sunlightscully's

Travel

There are moments where he makes a fool of himself in airports. He catches glimpses of dark braids, swinging for just a moment before disappearing into the throng of people, and finds that his hands are shaking. She is forever escaping him, forever just a few steps ahead, and his chest tightens with the absolute conviction that it was her, that those braids belonged to her and now he has lost her again in the crowd.

It happens for the first time around Scully. She reaches for her gun and then his hand. He is incredibly grateful, suddenly; he hadn’t realized he’d been afraid that she wouldn’t.

Early seasons Mulder and Scully bond in airports, learning to appreciate each other.

City in the Clouds

He tells her he wants to settle down in the country, grow old where he can see the stars. He tells her she could be a mother, and she thinks for the first time of settling down with him. Fleetingly, she sees herself in the window of a little white farmhouse, wearing an apron. Cooking oatmeal.

She couldn’t stand it.

Scully realizes, years later, that she did want to live Home Mulder's domestic dream.

Kitchen

On the tabletop, her index finger splashes into a small pool of blood. “Come on,” she says, and Mulder leans obediently forward. The cut isn’t bad, or deep – head wounds always look worse than they actually are – but she dabs at it anyway, cleaning the blood away, applying disinfectant. He hisses, tries to move away, but she has one hand pressed to the top of his head, holding him steady.

Scully cleans up Mulder's latest injuries; and the two make a laughing but important blood brother pact.

Food

“There’s cheese on your mouth,” she says, and he tries to see it in the reflexion of the window but the car weaves and she grabs his arm instinctively.

“Mulder! Watch the road, I’ll do it.”

She wipes the corner of his mouth crudely with the scratchy brown napkin.

Mulder realizes he loves Scully while they eat food in the car, scratchy napkins and celestial comparisons serving as evidence for his belief.

Beautitudes

“I can’t accept it,” he says, and she wants to say, “You have to, it’s happening,” and, “There’s nothing anyone can do about it,” but he wouldn’t believe that either.

He makes everything harder.

Somehow, though, she is thankful. He’s fighting for her, and no one fights harder than Mulder.

Scully and Mulder support each other through their shared and separate tragedies.

My_Love_Forever's

The Strength of Their Beliefs

Sometimes he talks. Don't leave. I need you to stay. Keep fighting. I'll make them pay for this. I don't know who did this. I can't let them let you go and I can't make you stay.

One Breath Mulder desperately clutches Scully's necklace while Scully feels his gaze, even in her coma.

The Realization of Weakness

Hidden in the back of his mind, the thought of not finding the thought of the Scully he lost. He has noticed that things faze her that she never blinked at before. Now she turns away and says she needs a moment when she is faced with the horrors of the world where previously she would have been fired up with rage at the perpetuator and would be shooting down his theories with facts. That is one of the things he missed most when she was taken for that long time; he would say "I think you have a vampire problem here" and pause, expecting her to take a deep breath and start listing all the reasons why that can't be after her exasperated "Mulder."

Irresistible Mulder wants to help support or heal Scully, hoping that, somehow, he is.

Waiting, in Reverse Order

For once, in a change of pace, she waits at his bedside. They have changed places, one sleeps on the bed and the other keeps a vigil in the uncomfortable chair at the bedside. Last time she was the one in the bed and he was waiting but now they have changed. She saved his life and waits at his bedside, hoping that her last memory of him is not the one where he ditches her to keep her safe.

End Game Scully waits in the hospital instead of Mulder, for once.

Viridian5's

Blowing Smoke

"Things are tough all over," I replied in my best hard-boiled voice.

He smiled darkly. "A change is gonna come..."

"Yeah?"

"You may not see me again. I think I'll be getting a promotion soon. I only had to stab a few backs to capture it."

S2 thug observes Krycek on a break.

Haunted

//As the roar and keening whistle grew louder, I stood up and walked into the trough between the rails. With an increasing feeling of clarity and peace, I turned to face my ride. When I threw the empty bottle against the rails, I couldn't help smiling at the sharp, crashing sound it made as it shattered. It sounded final. The approaching train looked liked a darker, moving cutout in the night. Except for the flashing lights.

//The lights.

//I couldn't move. Terror and a bone-deep feeling of loss gripped me along with paralysis as the flickering lights froze me in place. I couldn't see through the glare, and I heard someone screaming, and I could swear it was a girl, and she was screaming words, but I couldn't make them out, even as I sensed that she yelled the same word over and over again, and I was helpless and couldn't move again...

//NOT LIKE THIS! FIGHT! MOVE!

Mulder is transported to the memories of his childhood suicidal ideations while investigating a ghost and train tracks casefile.

Dead to the World

He looked so pale and still lying there. He had something odd, something that had left bruises and abrasions, wrapped tightly around his neck. Two more lines of that something enveloped his wrists. When she felt his neck to search for a pulse her fingers brushed it and quickly shied away. It was warm, moist, and alive. The other end of each of the lines trailed off into the darkness.

But he still lived. She took a scalpel from her coat pocket and prepared to cut him loose.

Mulder's eyes slowly opened, as if consciousness didn't come easily. She watched so many emotions flicker through them before he settled on blankness.

S5 Mulder willingly lets a monster parading as Samantha kill him; and Scully watches, horrified at his suicidal tendencies.

Circle - Chapter 1

It’d be interesting to see what Alex’s Consortium would be like. Maybe no better. Maybe his would even be worse.

But he was the one paying me.

AU-- Cashier rises through the Consortium ranks with the help of Krycek... only to face him again, years later, in a darker context.

Unprotected

"You have a neck brace on. You could have been killed. It was a stupid thing to do."

Mulder couldn't tell if he felt rage or despair. It teetered from one side to the next from second to second. He told myself that she was just upset that he'd ditched her and injured himself again, but--

He remembered why he never confessed anything to her or anyone if he could avoid it.

An injured Mulder feels alone after a careless comment from Scully.

7-Eleven Nightmares at 3 a.m.

Mulder was surprised his whole head didn't get devoured in his last yawn, which felt like it had split his face. //If I were a cartoon character...//

An insomniac Mulder is bored out of his mind... then starts to question his sanity after spotting a cup of very black, very oily diner coffee.

Starbuck_Lover's Under The Milky Way - Chapter 1

“You insisted I come with you in the middle of the night, you won’t tell me where we’re going, and you’re being incredibly vague,” she gestured wildly, “Excuse me for noticing a pattern.”

“You’ll love it,” he beamed at her, “I promise.”

Mulder wakes Scully up, taking her to a field to watch the stars.

Deb Longley's

Whistlewood - Chapter 1

I take a little longer than I should to turn back around, but the room behind me has transformed: it is lit softly, by candles fixed on each side of the fireplace, casting amber halos on the walls, and the fireplace now has a fire, which has burned down to nothing but softly smoldering ashes....

I swing back in his direction. He hasn't budged. Unexpectedly, he moves past me into the room, startling me into a yelp which he doesn't seem to hear.

An unconscious Mulder witnesses the vision of a dead man sledgehammer his family.

The Fear Place

I wonder what other people see when they look at him; the man is beautiful with his wild, windblown dark hair, and eyes, and tall, lean frame. A few of them are audacious enough to look him up and down, but they usually stop when they get to his eyes. He's thirty-eight, but he has the eyes of an old soul. He sees deep, and through, observing things that others overlook. He looks at smiles and perceives the lies hiding behind them. He sees the truth.

Mulder's messed-up knee and mother-son dynamic drives him to call Scully on Thanksgiving for reinforcements. Tena finally relents, if only a little.

story_monger's Predictable

He’s predictable, and he knows that.

Want to see the Mulder guy do some flips? Stick him in front of a missing child’s report; make it a little girl with dark hair. Watch him run.

He feels sick....

They should know that there’s a girl missing, and she has dark hair, and she’s supposed to turn ten in a week.

Mulder loathes his own reactions to cases similar to Samantha's; and Scully helps him to calm and get some sleep.

enigmaticblue's

True Hearts

He’s told Scully that the truth will set them both free, but he feels like a hypocrite for saying it. Mulder believes in the truth, he trusts in its power, and yet he’s hiding the truth from his partner.

Mulder has half-convinced himself that it’s not important, that they have to get through this crisis first. He owes Scully the truth, but he can’t bring himself to add to her burden.

Post Memento Mori Mulder feels guilt over not telling Scully about her ova.

Let Them Eat Cake

Scully peruses the plate of donuts at the end of the table, irritated when she realizes that cake donuts are all that’s left. She feels someone lean in close behind her, and an arm snakes around to snag one of the chocolate-frosted ones with multi-colored sprinkles.

She glances over her shoulder to see Mulder’s grin. “You didn’t want that one, did you, Scully?”

She resists rolling her eyes through a strong effort of will. “I don’t like cake donuts, Mulder.”

“Cake donuts are the best kind,” Mulder protests, taking a big bite, catching the crumbs with his tongue.

S6 Mulder and Scully debate donuts at a team-building conference.

Under the Mistletoe

“Hm?” He adjusted his glasses as he looked up at her.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“About what?”

“You know about what.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “No, I don’t know. What did I do?”

Scully pointed to the mistletoe, waiting for him to confess, or at least smirk. Instead, his face remained completely innocent—although that didn’t mean much, since this was Mulder.

Pre-Dating-- Scully notices but avoids the mistletoe. Mulder does not.

Reflections

His old man had missed Vietnam, but Doggett had an uncle who’d joined up. He’d heard a few stories, most while on leave after boot camp. Uncle Duane seemed to think they shared a connection that hadn’t been there before, and he talked about steamy nights that were filled with gunfire and the smell of reefer.

Later, much later, when he’d been given an honorable discharge after Beirut, Uncle Duane had talked about the horror of watching your friends get limbs blown off, of hands stained with the blood of innocents.

Pre-This Is Not Happening Skinner shares the details of the Unrequited case with Doggett. Both wonder what was and wasn't worth it.

A Strong Shoulder

The knock on the door came as a surprise around ten, and Scully heaved herself up off the couch, one hand on her back for support. A quick glance through the peephole had her hurrying to open the door.

Mulder stood there, a crooked grin on his face, his eyes a little lost, a little vulnerable. “Hey.”

Post Three Words Mulder slowly drifts in, glad Scully wants him to stay even if he's handling reentry badly.

All I Ever Get For Christmas Is Blue

Scully gave thanks that William was such a good-natured baby; he stirred once as she bundled him up, opening his eyes sleepily, then immediately closed them again once he was secure in his carrier. Keys in hand, she set the car seat down in the hallway to lock the door behind her, then froze as she heard footsteps.

How was it that she could recognize his walk after he’d been gone for months? How was it that she could sense him coming even though she had no expectation of his arrival?

AU-- S9 Mulder returns to Scully and William for Christmas; but he leaves again, though both wishes he could stay.

@cauldronoflove/thegoodthebadandthenerdy's

Close Your Eyes, Be Patient

He stood in his forlorness like it was a new winter coat. It was draped across the downward curve of his shoulders, tugging impishly at his struggling-to-remain-steady mouth. It wasn't that she'd never seen him like this - as much as he tried to hide it, she knew there were certain cases that kept him awake long into the night, same as her - it was just that she'd never seen it so set in.

Pre-Dating-- Scully makes a calculated effort to carefully disentangle Mulder from his mind.

The Prairie State Debate

Dinner twisted away like dandelion wishes, table plated in hard plastic cups and warm to the touch dishes. The tea was syrupy sweet, made by the hand of a true Southern child despite their current place on the map, and the food sported heavy gravys and savory score marks - a combination that left Scully, two servings and only yeses for 'would you like a refill?' Scully, ready to collapse into the gossamer sheets of her bed until tomorrow.

But when she felt fingers on the rise of her shoulder, heard an absence of footsteps beside her, glanced up at a dazzling marquee, she lead the way in to the theater. She was tired, yes, but she had been more so, no doubt would be same time next week, and these moments like monthly allowances were something she needed as much as anything.

Dating-- Scully remembers their first not-date.

••• - •- -•--

It's dark out, moonlit sky extrapolating between the slats of still open blinds, but he gets the sense that it's not the same night he remembers falling asleep in. The only other light is a small lamp somewhere above him, casting low light that does nothing for his pale, thin skin. He looks fragile, even from his own estimates - battered and bruised and made from poorly picked and sewn together parts.

He can't help but think he doesn't deserve the smile he finds waiting for him, not in this state. That doesn't stop her though....

Scully saves a drugged up, nearly dead Mulder.

All I Need's a Fraction of Your Happy Heart

Scully ducked her head into the street, looking both ways before bustling across the crosswalk, Mulder following a single footstep behind. To onlookers, their height difference was exasperated as they hitched their arms up and jogged quickly through the sounds of honking traffic, but it never seemed to cross their minds. When they picked back up on the sidewalk, he ducked his head and leaned forward, just enough so she could hear him, just enough so she could let a laugh kick up her throat.

AU-- Scully, giddy and freshly married on a case, reflects on the events that led to their mutual proposal, and courthouse wedding.

Gravity, Oh Gravity

because the second thing he sees is scully. scully in a shirt he's had to have seen her in a thousand times, the one he thinks is green, but isn't sure because his eyes have always betrayed him. his eyes have to be betraying him. scully and-

and and and

(and his heart stops beating.)

it thunders back to life as he stumbles forward, legs feeling like they've been chopped from his body and reattached in the wrong direction.

AU-- This Is Not Happening Mulder wakes on the ground to the stars and Scully's face. Even Skinner cries.

Looking Back Over My Shoulder (I See it Clear as Day)

There are few people that Mulder is okay with calling him Fox. Admittedly, they're all named Scully....

Her sister isn't, though.

Revival Mulder and Scully chuckle over Melissa's ghost's audacity to chew out her sister's partner.

@youweremytouchstone's First time she winked at him!

He looks back over at the door. As usual, nobody down her except for him this early in the morning. He turns his attention to the cases piling up on his desk.

And then in a flash, she’s at his desk, looking at him like she’s been there the last hour.

Dating-- Scully enjoys teasing Mulder and pretending it never happened.

@pukajen's (Ao3, LJ) Sleep Cycle

Even all these years later, it feels like a stolen moment to watch him sleep peacefully; undrugged, unconcussed, in their bed, the one they've shared for years. So many times in the past she's kept vigil over his hospital bed, watching him sleep, worried he'd never wake up.

Revival Scully still loves watching Mulder sleep.

@dinascully/unsedentary's Miles Adrift

She said something about being blinded by someone’s brights, losing control, ending up in the ditch, and he tries not to think about whether or not this was an accident. He’s already called Skinner.

He waits a few minutes before trying to start the car again. If he’s lucky, they’ll be on their way and home before Scully wakes up. But the car has other plans – it coughs pitifully, whines, and refuses to go anywhere.

Breakup-- Scully and Mulder reconnect after a car accident. His car breaks down, forcing them to have a tearful conversation.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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