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hollowed-theory-hall · 10 days

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Any HC's or theories on Regulus Black?

Hi! This was a really fun ask actually and I ended up blabbering a lot about Regulus Arcturus Black because I have thoughts.

Okay, so I'm going to do something similar to what I did with Theodore Nott since there isn't a lot of info about Regulus, but there's a lot implied and I love extrapolating. I think Regulus is a fascinating character that can be read in multiple ways (part of the fun!)

It got a bit long, but here are my thoughts about him:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

“Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal . . . my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them . . . that’s him.” Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name REGULUS BLACK. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth. “He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.” “But he died,” said Harry. “Yeah,” said Sirius. “Stupid idiot . . . he joined the Death Eaters.” [...] “No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things. . . . They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.”

(OotP, 112)

So, first, we have some background. Regulus Black was the younger brother of Sirius. Part of the main male line of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

What we know of Sirius' childhood is that the Blacks were pure-blood fanatics. From Elladrora who hung house-elf heads on the wall to Araminata who billed the ministry to legalize muggle-hunting. Not to mention the Blacks' tendency to disown and disinherit anyone who doesn't fall in line with their standards of purity. They are, after all, "Always Pure".

So Regulus grew up wealthy in a family that considered themselves magical nobility (and probably are, in that I think they have a family Wizengamot membership). He never lacked anything, but his childhood came with expectations, more so after Sirius left.

I've seen many write Walburga and Orion as abusive, but I don't think they cursed their children. I don't think they were great parents, but I truly believe they never raised a wand (or hand) against one of their sons. What I think they did, was heft some impossible standards on their sons.

Sirius is the eldest, the heir, therefore as children, he would've carried most of these expectations. Sirius would be the one Walburga and Orion dotted after. Kreature says Sirius leaving broke Waburga's heart and I honestly believe it to be true. I think Sirius was Walburga's favorite. The eldest, the brightest, the cleverest, the most handsome. The brightest star in the night sky.

Regulus, as a child, would always come second. He would see his brother cause havoc and get all their parents' attention, so, in his bid to get attention too, he did the opposite of Sirius. If Sirius got attention for being a rebel, Regulus would follow each and every standard their parents put down to the latter. This is something you see in many families, each sibling wants to have their own "niche" so they tend to do the opposite of the sibling that came before them. And that's exactly what we see with Regulus. Sirius was the rebel, so Regulus became the dutiful, obedient perfect pure-blood son his mother wanted to win her affection and differentiate himself from Sirius.

These comparisons between them Sirius mentioned, they probably went both ways. Walburga reminded Sirius of how dutiful and reliable Regulus is and "Why can't you be more like your brother," but Regulus heard the exact same sentence. "Why can't you be as witty/talented as you're brother".

And after Sirius left, I think these comparisons got worse. I think Walburga and Orion talked about Sirius constantly after he left.

I believe Sirius and Regulus were actually close as young children and started growing apart once Sirius started school. Sirius being sorted into Gryffindor was a new point of tension in the home. The constant comparisons they both heard to each other made resentment grow and after Sirius left, Regulus couldn't speak to his parents without hearing "Oh, Sirius would say this" and "Sirius would think that" I think that resentment and bitterness got worse. So, he did what he always did to differentiate himself from Sirius — be the perfect Slytherin pure-blood.

I think this helped his decision to join the Death Eaters. Not the only factor, mind you, I don't think it's Sirius' fault Regulus joined the Death Eaters, it was still Regulus' decision. But I think the situation at home after Sirius left factored into it.

Who was Regulus as a person?

Now I want to talk a little bit more about Regulus' personality before covering his untimely end everyone is familiar with.

It was a pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door. Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black

(DH, 163)

They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus’s bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius’s, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bead, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them. “They’re all about Voldemort,” she said. “Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters . . . ” A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings. Harry, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been. “He played Seeker,” said Harry.

(DH, 164)

I believe you can learn a lot about a person from their living space. Regulus' (and Sirius') bedrooms remained unchanged by their parents from the moment they left them. As Regulus died when he was 18 or 19 the room is frozen as it was when it served him. So, what does Regulus' bedroom tell us about him?

Harry refers to the sign on the door as something pompous, and written in a nice handwriting. I believe the sign was put up when Regulus was younger, specifically against Sirius. It's one of these signs children put on their doors specifically against their annoying siblings who steal their stuff or rummage through it. And even after they grew out of it, after Sirius left, Regulus kept the sign up. I think he couldn't really muster to put it away even once Sirius wasn't around to poke into his room anymore.

As I mentioned above, Regulus tried to be the opposite of Sirius and decorated his room accordingly. The most Slytherin pure-blood child of Hosue Black there could be. The Hogwarts memorabilia is some of that perfect Slytherin son image, but it's also really sad. It's a reminder of just how young Regulus was when he died. Sure, he would've probably kept a lot of it as an adult, but it's unlikely he would've displayed Slytherin banners and pictures of the Quidditch team in the same way long after school was over. But Regulus graduated a year before his death, he didn't have time to grow up and grow away from his school experiences. So his room, like him, is stuck at 19.

The Black family crest and motto painted above the bed is another extra mile to show Regulus' dedication to being the perfect son, the perfect child his mother wanted. I headcanon this was painted after Sirus left. A sort of sign to say that Regulus wouldn't leave. That he cares about his family.

Harry also mentioned Regulus was a Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, according to his seating in the photo. It doesn't tell us much more about Regulus, I think it's just more of him trying to please his parents. That and I think he genuinely liked Quidditch, which is a fun little tidbit.

Now, we don't know much about Regulus at school, but I'd say he was a good student. He wasn't as naturally talented and gifted as Sirius, but Regulus knew to work his ass off. The neat handwriting on the door sign is probably his, I bet he had really organized notes in school that everyone wanted to copy. Regulus as the second best to Sirius, would be more of a hard worker than Sirius in general and strive for perfection in his school work out of his desire for attention and recognition from his parents.

Now, let's talk about the newspaper clippings elephant in the room...

Regulus the Death Eater

Sirius said his parents thought Voldemort had the right idea about muggles and muggleborns, and it's clear Regulus agreed with them. Regulus was a Voldemort fanboy before he became a Death Eater, yes, the circumstances he grew up with and his resentment towards Sirius were part of it, but it was a choice he made. He thought it was a good idea, he thought muggles and muggleborns should know their place. I think there are a lot of parallels between Regulus Black and Draco Malfoy, especially when Kreature talks about how Regulus was at first as a Death Eater:

“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns . . . and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . . And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said . . . he said . . . ” The old elf rocked faster than ever. “. . . he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.” […] “Oh yes,” moaned Kreacher. “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do . . . and then to c-come home.” Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.

(DH, 168-169)

Like Draco, Regulus was proud to be a Death Eater, excited to do something against the "filthy mudbloods" plaguing their society. He considered helping Voldemort an honor. A good thing. Same as how Draco talks about it at first. But like we see with Draco in book 6, that it became too much for him, that he was having mental breakdowns in the toilet with Myrtle, I think Regulus experienced something similar.

He grew up spoiled, well-treated, well-mannered. He wasn't raised a soldier, a killer. I don't think Regulus had it in him, same as Draco. He couldn't bear to torture and kill.

Regulus, Kreature, and Empathy

The other interesting note in the above quotes is "Master Regulus always liked Kreacher". I find this adorable and jarring. We see how Sirius treats Kreature, he doesn't treat him as an equal being, he treats him like a slave, like a house-elf. Sirius does it because that's how he was raised to see house-elves, even the Weasleys think of house-elves in this way. It's a societal thing. But Regulus doesn't.

Regulus is kind to Kreature, and cares about him, likes him. It's kind of insane for a blood-purist Death Eater to show affection for a house-elf, especially the kind of affection in which Regulus chose to die instead of torturing his elf (his choice to die had other factors in it, and I'll get to it later). It's just, I don't know, the dynamic Regulus and Kreature had is really precious to me, okay?

Like, the fact it could happen goes to show how compassionate Regulus was even with his bigoted views and choice to become a Death Eater. Sirius calls Regulus "soft" and I think he is 100% right. Regulus was the "softer" and more empathetic of the two brothers. That softness doesn't mean he didn't think muggles and muggleborns are lesser and chose to become a Death Eater on his own accord. But that empathy is what probably made him uncomfortable among Death Eaters and get cold feet once he saw what was going on inside.

I imagine Kreature and Regulus were friendly for years. Kreature has served the Hosue of Black for a good while, which means he likely raised Regulus and Sirius. I think he helped with Regulus more than with Sirius, just because of how they reacted to him differently. Also, Waburga and Orion probably had less attention to give to Regulus when he was just born as Sirius was still really young then (a year or a year and a half old), so their attention would be more divided and Kreature would help more. I headcanon when Regulus was a young child Kreature would, like, sneak him extra desert and such and a young Sirius would complain he's not getting any.

How do we know what happened to him?

“Was he killed by an Auror?” Harry asked tentatively. “Oh no,” said Sirius. “No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”

(OotP, 112)

Now, what's interesting about this quote is how Sirius found this out. Why would he know that's what happened? Who could he have spoken to that would've known to tell him this?

Voldemort killing traitors is known, and many other characters mention it, but who would know Regulus turned traitor?

Other Death Eaters. Specifically, highly valued Death Eaters that are related to Regulus, like Bellatrix, who happened to be in Azkaban with Sirius.

I believe Sirius "found out" from Bella or other Death Eaters in a neighboring cell who told him that's what happened. I just don't really see any other way he'd come to this conclusion on his own. It's either that or wishful thinking on Sirius' part.

I think the inner circle Death Eaters were told Regulus was killed for treachery but nothing beyond that. I didn't really write about how I think the Dark Mark works, but I think it allows Voldemort to magically know when a Death Eater dies (and a bit more). I don't think he knew how Regulus died, just that he did. But Sirius mentioned he knew Regulus betrayed Voldemort, it means someone had to know. It means Voldemort likely knew Regulus was a traitor and told some of his Death Eaters. The same ones Sirius was in Azkaban with.

Regulus' betrayal and Death

“So what happened when you got back?” Harry asked. “What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?” “Master Regulus was very worried, very worried,” croaked Kreacher. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then . . . it was a little while later . . . Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell . . . and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. . . . “ […] “And he made you drink the poison?” said Harry, disgusted. But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione’s hands leaped to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something. “M—Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. “And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets . . . ” Kreacher’s sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him. “And he order—Kreacher to leave—without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress—what he had done—but to destroy— the first locket. And he drank—all the potion—and Kreacher swapped the lockets—and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water. . . and . . . “

(DH, 171)

To the Dark Lord I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.

(HBP, 609)

So, there are a few things to talk about here:

1. Why did Regulus choose to betray Voldemort when he did? What changed?

As I mentioned above, I think Regulus was always empathetic, just not towards muggleborns (at least until he saw torture first-hand perhaps?), but he was towards Kreature. That worry over Kreature, that's the first big seed of doubt about Voldemort. Regulus cares a lot about Kreature and he's clearly clever. He's smart enough to realise Voldemort must think Kreature is dead so it'll be better if he didn't see Kreature, hence why he told the elf not to leave the house.

I think seeing Keature in a state after he was in the cave is what really caused the shift in how Regulus thinks about Voldemort. I think there were doubts before, I don't think Regulus was ever on board with being the one to torture and murder, he doesn't strike me like the sort, but as long as he didn't really need to partake and it was only "filthy mudbloods" he could kinda excuse it to himself. And whenever a pure-blood was killed or tortured (the first war killed more pure-bloods than muggleborns) he could excuse that too, "they were against us, after all". But then Kreature was hurt too, it was the final nail for Regulus. That's what he couldn't excuse to himself as "justified" anymore.

So Regulus continues being a Death Eater, but he is suspicious, he doesn't trust Voldemort's goals are what he always promised them, and he is uncertain about the means being justified anymore. He is unsure if he is willing to go as far as Voldemort is. So he watches, and study, and waits for his chance.

And that chance came when he found out about the Horcruxes.

After Regulus finds out about the Horcruxes Kreature describes him as "disturbed in the mind" and "strange", it's clear the something rattled him. A lot.

I think finding out Voldemort made a Horcrux pushed Regulus' betrayal to happen. Like, I think Horcruxes are very taboo magic, even among wizards who practice the dark arts. As I mentioned in the past, you need to essentially kill yourself to make a Horcrux. I think messing with your life and soul is considered perverse and twisted even for dark wizards, and Horcruxes even more so. I mean, I think it's uncomfortable to learn you swore your allegiance to someone who's willing to kill himself to gain immortality. It means that someone would stop at nothing to achieve their wishes.

And Regulus is already disenchanted with how far Voldemort is willing to go for goals he isn't even certain of anymore, and then he discovers the Horcrux. A magical item that says that as far as Voldemort went with the war, he could go further, because he is a man who'd stop at nothing, not even self-mutilation is too high a tool for him. That is frightening. Following the orders of someone like that, someone who doesn't care for you and is never going to say "maybe this is too far" is terrifying. The idea of someone like that ruling a government is even worse... no wonder Regulus turned traitor the moment he learned about the Horcrux...

So I think finding out about the Horcrux is why Regulus decided to turn on Voldemort and destroy the Horcrux.

As you can tell, his opinions on muggles or muggleborns aren't the main factor I believe changed Regulus' mind. The means, and how far Voldemort was willing to go is what mostly caused the change of heart. I think Regulus had too much heart for it, even if he thought muggles and muggleborns lesser, he took no sadistic joy in others' pain the way some Death Eaters do. And seeing pure-bloods like him could be hurt in the same way (the Order were mostly pure-bloods), I think was especially abhorrent to him.

2. Why did Regulus choose death?

Regulus chose to drink the potion because he wanted to spare Kreature. This is the same kindness and empathy that I've already discussed, but he could've ordered Kreature to take him back home, nothing stopped him from doing that... and Kreature would've, happily so. So why didn't he?

In the letter Regulus outright said he'd be dead by the time Voldemort reads it, he went into the cave with the full intention to die, he never planned to leave. Kinda like how Harry walked into the forest in Deathley Hallows... but why? Why did he choose death?

I think Regulus chose to die because he knew he wouldn't be able to hid his treachery from Voldemort. I mentioned already I believe Voldemort told his inner circle Death Eaters that Regulus turned traitor and died for it. Voldemort knowing Regulus is a traitor makes Regulus' decision to die make more sense.

The phrase "I want you to know it was I", makes me think Voldemort suspected someone had learned of his Horcruxes but didn't know who. Maybe Voldemort suspected there was a traitor who knew about the Horcruxes, and after Regulus died Voldemort investigated after the fact and figured it was Regulus that turned traitor. Maybe he even checked on the cave and saw Regulus was dead there, so he didn't bother to check on the Horcrux. I don't think he would've expected Kreature to have been there too, otherwise, he'd see no reason for Regulus to be dead. Because for Voldemort, it wouldn't make sense to allow yourself to die like that, he wouldn't really understand why anyone would choose to die if they had the choice.

So Regulus even kept the secret of the Horcrux being taken at all by his death.

Additionally, Regulus chose to die and take out the Horcrux while doing it to avoid being tortured and killed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. By dying, he also protected his family from being hunted down to try and locate him. He died to protect himself and everyone he cared about from the treatment of Death Eater traitors. Which we know is not pleasant...

3. How did Regulus find out about the Horcruxes?

This is something I'm less sure of and is foraying into heavier speculation. The only hint we really get is: "I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret" from his letter, but what exactly does this mean?

Well, Kreature told Regulus everything he saw. He told him a locket was placed in a cave filled with magical protections. Kreature's information about the locket is probably how Regulus made/bought the replica. But how from "well protected magical item" Regulus reached the conclusion that it's a Horcrux? How did he discover the secret?

I don't know how he was discovered, as for the Horcrux, I have a guess.

Regulus said he discovered the secret, I think what he did was piecing the puzzle together not unlike Dumbledore. He knew from Kreature that Voldemort had an item he guards very securely, he might've heard from Bellatrix that Voldemort is immortal since I'm pretty confident she was told what the cup in her vault is. And I think Regulus, as a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and a clever enough dark wizard, could trace a book about Horcruxes and figure out that's likely what the locket is.

Some random headcanons

1. I think Regulus could be just as much of a little shit as Sirius. I mean, there's a certain edge to how he words his note. I like to think, that when they were young, before Hogwarts, they'd pull pranks together in balls or other stuffy functions and get in trouble together.

2. I have little to no basis for this headcanon, but I'd like to think the painting of the Black family crest and motto above Regulus' bed was painted by Rregulus. I mean, he can do nice calligraphy on the sign on his door, I see no reason he couldn't also paint.

3. And finally, to a kinda sad headcanon, Harry actually saw Regulus in the cave:

the wandlight had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying faceup inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

(HBP, 565)

I assume most of the corpses are muggles, and most of them are actually described as worse for wear than the one robe-wearing wizard corpse Harry describes above. For these reasons, I believe this corpse is Regulus. It's a sad thought, but it crossed my mind when I read this passage in my recent HBP reread.

#harry potter #hp #asks #anon asks #anonymous #regulus black #hp meta #harry potter meta #regulus black meta #regulus arcturus black #r.a.b #hollowedtheory #hollowedheadcanon #hp headcanon

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tizzyizzy · 2 years

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The Izzy & Ed Relationship

I find about a lot of criticism and analysis of Izzy’s character to be lacking a very important element, especially in regards to his relationship with Ed.

I’ve seen Izzy often compared to a toxic friend. A kind of crab in a bucket. Ed is moving on on his life, finding new meaning. He’s growing as a person. And Izzy keeps sabotaging that, trying to get Ed to regress to the fierce pirate Ed used to be (or pretend to be). He’s putting his own personal desire for Ed to be a certain way over Ed’s desires, and when you look at it like that, it does seem like a toxic friend.

So, let’s consider what a relationship between friends is like.

The title of ‘friend’ is a personal, casual one. It can be taken away or given by either of the two parties depending on circumstances and emotions.

Friends may ask favors of one another, but there is no expectation of complete obedience on either side. The favors are strictly voluntary.

Friends (usually) see one another outside of work hours, unless they are work friends. Close friends make time to see one another outside of work.

Friends don’t (usually) depend on one another for income. In fact, mixing money and friendship can damage it.

Friends don’t (usually) depend on one another for safety. Outside of unusual situations, a friend’s personal choice to take certain risks won’t harm anyone but themselves.

Friends don’t (usually) depend on one another for their lifestyle. There might be some influence, but if one friend is a frequent drinker that loves parties, it won’t stop the other friend from being a non-drinking introvert.

Friends (usually) do not hold a power of life and death over on another.

Now let’s compare that to a relationship between a pirate captain and a first mate.

The title of first mate can only be bestowed by the captain, and can be taken away at the captain’s whim. The first mate has no power over whether or not the captain remains captain, and is dependent on the captain to gain and maintain their position. Both titles come with responsibilities, powers, and expectations in a crew’s hierarchy.

A first mate must obey the captain. If they don’t, they aren’t doing their job.

A first mate and captain have a working relationship first, and a personal one second, if at all.

A first mate depends on the captain for income. If the captain makes poor decisions, the first mate doesn’t get paid.

The first mate depends on the captain for safety. A bad captain will take the wrong risks; a good one will minimize them.

A first mate depends on the captain for their lifestyle. Whether they’re dealing with gentle or rough seas, eating spoiled or sumptuous rations, or working at this task instead of another, the captain is the one who made the decisions to put them in that position.

A captain holds the power of life and death over a first mate. The captain can have them flogged, marooned, or drowned.

While one could argue that a captain depends on their first mate to perform their duties, the power differential is still there. A captain can always replace a first mate, or hurt them, or kill them, if the crew is obedient. A first mate can only rebel as long as the captain allows them to.

Any analysis of the Ed and Izzy relationship that doesn’t take this into account is missing a huge aspect of their dynamic.

Izzy isn’t following Ed around because he’s a clinging friend that won’t leave Ed alone. It’s literally his job and responsibility to obey Ed. Izzy depends on his captain to make the decisions that keep his belly full and his body in one piece. Unless/until Izzy decides to quit, Ed’s decisions and commands dominate his life.

Izzy didn’t want to deal with Stede fucking Bonnet, but he had to lead men to their deaths against the Spanish to save him because Ed commanded it. He didn’t want to talk to Stede and ask him for a meeting with Ed, but he did it. He doesn’t want to be stuck on a ship full of Stede’s weird crew, but there he was.

If Izzy and Ed were just buddies on land with normal jobs, Izzy’s behavior would absolutely be that of a toxic friend. He would be trying to keep Ed from making personal decisions for himself solely to control him and keep him close.

But that version of Izzy wouldn’t have fought the Spanish, or been aboard Stede’s ship, dealing with Stede’s crew. He wouldn’t need to worry about Ed making a bad decision and getting him killed. He wouldn’t be putting on a fake smile and lying to the crew of the Revenge while Ed sobbed in his pillow fort. And he wouldn’t be hobbling around on a crutch with a mutilated foot.

Point is, Izzy isn’t some rando asshole. He’s Ed’s right hand, offering his loyalty and services in exchange for the skilled leadership of Blackbeard to lead them safely in raids.

Izzy disobeyed Ed, but who stopped holding up their end of the deal first?

#ofmd meta #izzy hands meta #edward teach meta #ofmd #izzy hands #edward teach

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allyoureadislovemade · 1 year

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A Quick Disturbing Thought!!! 😅

What if you are suffocated, mentally... You can't think about one thing at a time. You have different places to write your thoughts at and people to tell who will listen. And more than that they would understand , but at the same time you do not wanna tell them. Reason could be u r too vulnerable and can't show it or rather don't wanna. Or you see or sense that the world/ ur people are moving ahead.. or let's just say maybe just moving with you walking with you in life and you do not wanna tell them, stop them to listen to you. And also because you know that they will understand and that's why u can't say it, coz they will worry a lot more than you...

How do you differentiate between a phase and a long term lonliness ? Sometimes you can't write or tell but only keep it in you. You disconnect and still it's not better. You keep thinking one day it will be fine, it's a phase and u just have to wait for it to pass... And then u see urself in it again and again after weeks or some month's time.

How does it feel when u have so much to give willingly ( it's a beautiful feeling, just etheral to feel that love towards someone and want to give, hear them, be there for them ), but sometimes you have to give to some people due to duty or responsibility even when you don't have it in you ?

Don't you get tired? İ get tired a lot and since a long time... Well it's just that i feel it much more now than ever before.

I've said it millions times before in other posts but yes... I'm still, and others are moving. Maybe not too far away but one day it will far enough to leave me stranded alone not lonely but alone... But at the same time I'm thinking that i don't wanna do anything now... So how do I go about it??

İ don't wanna move, i hate being at one place , i wanna help but i don't wanna ask for one for myself.... Knowing that there are these amazing people ready for me, to pick me up if i fall/fail miserably but just i can't accept them somewhere in my heart.

Why do i doubt myself so much. Why i can't just shake this feeling that i can't can't ask or shouldn't. why i am content for the time being just being where i am when i shouldn't be... what am I waiting for really... Why can't I just do something... Why there's so much of this bloody irritatingly annoying self-pity... İt doesn't go away... Aughhhgigiigilesllz..!!!!

Well just another confusing/ knowing, sad but content day in my life!!!!

Xoxo,

Love-made! ( This is becoming very hilarious tho! 🤣)

#allyoureadislovemade #life is strange #new blog #feelings #life goes on #lifelessons #annoyed #confused #Life

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Text

Until you are safe

Warning: Vision Hunt Decree still in effect, kidnapped themes, reader grabbed by hair (Thoma), possessive themes (scara)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Albedo, Scara, Thoma, Zhongli

Albedo

The frosty chill of the mountain side was more than you could bear. Every time you thought you gained warmth it was ripped from your body by icy hands threatening to drive you insane. You shivered and wrapped your coat further around your body while you scowled against the frigid cold.

Ahead of you stood Albedo who seemed indifferent to the temperature and while you were impressed that he knew how to handle this without any complaints, you were also irritated by the fact. He was barely wearing anything and here you were shivering under countless layers of cloth.

He turned to tell you something but with the turbulent winds and nibbling frost against your ears, you didn’t understand a single word he said. Quickly, you forced your legs to move as you made your way to his side.

“W-w-what di-did you s-say?” Your chattering teeth made it hard, and painful, to speak but you did your best anyway.

“We are nearly there, can you keep going?” He narrowed his eyes at you but you knew that was a common thing he did. It was unlikely to have any additional meaning behind it.

“H-how f-f-f-ar?”

“Just around the bend.” He rested the back of his hand against your cheek and somehow that made you shiver even more than the touch of frost. When you nodded and began to walk forward, he took up position behind you and directed you toward the camp.

With the cave blocking out the wind, and several warming mechanisms already glowing, you stumbled your way in between them an the fire. Trembling hands extended toward the orange and yellow light while you watched the snow drip from your clothes.

“I always h-hat-te this p-p-part.” You complained, shaking your head and shoulders to warm up the muscles. This wasn’t the first time you traveled to Dragonspine with Albedo, but each time you braved the conditions you recalled the promise you made yourself last time. Never again, well ... I guess that promise was made to be broken.

“Here, this will help warm you.” He handed you a cup and immediately you caught the scent of fresh and soothing tea. The aroma itself perked you up and even though your fingers were still stiff, you graciously took the offering. Warmth seeped into your throat as the liquid carved a path down your esophagus and into the pit of your baron stomach. With a refreshing hum you smiled through the steam.

“P-p-perfect. Thank-k y-you.” Another sip warmed your lips and tickled your nose but you didn’t dare stop.

“This trip should be less strenuous than last time.” Albedo began, his back turned to you as he rummaged through the stacks of books. “Where did I place that ... perhaps it got caught in the wind, that would be unfortunate.”

You giggled, eyes watching him meander and speak to himself all at the same time. He had a habit of doing it but it never bothered you, in fact it was comforting to hear his voice, stabilizing, grounding.

“You ca-can head out. I’ll b-be fine here after I w-warm up-p.” The shivering had eased, but you still succumbed to the residual affects as your body began to shift from frozen to thawed.

“No need, I can wait here for a while.”

“Haha, that’s silly, g-go on ahead.” You took another sip of the cup and found yourself sad at the emptiness of it. That’s when a hand entered your field of vision and you watched Albedo walk toward a table, refill your drink, and return to your side. He offered it to you and when your fingers found the circumference his nestled against them.

“Until I know you are safe, I will be here.” His eyes held your own for a while as if waiting for your reaction, your response, and when you nodded he mimicked your action before slipping back toward the bookshelves and research table.

You were glad he left you, because if he hadn’t you were sure the only way to cool down was to step beyond the barrier of the cave and into the never-ending snowstorm that protected Dragonspine.

Scara

Being at the side of a Harbinger had it’s own trials. If it wasn’t the constant movement between assignments or the threats against your life, it was the loneliness which creeped in every single day. There were some Harbingers who left the life of love far outside of their reach: Signora, who vowed to never love again and instead put all her attention into fulfilling her duty, Childe, found love a difficult thing to ignore and did his best to keep what he cherished hidden behind closed doors.

Scara, he never understood the meaning of the word until it crashed around him like a house crumbles into itself, and the way he kept his belongings safe was to have them near him at all times. It was far better to be under the watchful eyes of his competence than leave something so valuable in the hands of another. So, here you were, following him around and staying hidden until he called for you.

The room was empty, absent of all the things you would have normally kept to make this place more homey. If you could get away with it, you’d have made some changes to the décor, but the problem with never settling in one place for long made this desire of yours difficult to accomplish. It wasn’t feasible, you thought to yourself but that didn’t stop you from adding a bit of comfort when you could.

The night came and went without issue and after you prepared yourself for bed you wondered where your lover was. Was he succeeding, was he accomplishing his goals, would he return to you tonight or would you wake up alone yet again. Luckily for you, you had learn to be patient.

Your dreams kept you occupied but there seemed to be something about them that pulled you toward consciousness, a subtle wish drifting across your imagines to wake up.

Something brushed across your cheek, but was it the dream or reality, you couldn’t tell. Gravity pulled you close to something sturdy, but was it a creation of your imagination or the real thing - why was this so challenging. When your eyes finally opened and adjusted to the light of the room, you realized what had been calling to you.

“Scara?” You pulled your hand down from behind the pillow, the muscles tense from being locked into that position for so long. “What has-”

“Go back to sleep.” He spoke and the sound of his voice pulled you closer to him.

“Is everything okay?” You continued your question as if what he said was never uttered, your eyes trying to find the outline of his frame while your skin adjusted to his touch.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, just sleep.”

“But, why are you here?

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.” His words may have been direct, but you could sense there was something else behind them.

“... would you ... like to come to bed?”

“I can’t.” He adjusted and you felt the warmth of the blankets cover more of your exposed skin. The chill of the evening became blocked by the sheets and you hummed in response. You were confused, but the feeling of his hand running along your neck, your jaw, and into your hair made all the questions you had disappear. Moments like these brought out something completely different in the Harbinger and you wondered why he treated you so differently.

With a yawn, you turned into his touch, lips finding the palm of his hand easily and placing a tender kiss against his skin. “You don’t need to stay if you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” You hummed again as he thumb ran over your lips and the gentle pull of sleep began to find you. It was quiet for a while and you focused on the warmth, the closeness, the comfort he provided until you practically melted into the bed.

“I can’t do that either.” Scara whispered, hand pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer to your face. “Not until you are safe,” He breathed in your scent, gazing down at your trusting form beneath him. “Even from me.” He spoke as his fingers curled into the sheets and before he lost himself in you, he slipped from your bedroom and made his way down the hall.

Thoma

He ran so fast as soon as the news reached him. The weight of his feet as he dashed through the countryside grew with every passing second but there was nothing more painful than his clenching heart and anxious thoughts.

What have they done, am I to late, please don’t be too late. He wracked his brain over and over again, blamed himself for the stupidity of leaving you. If he had been there would the outcome be different? If he had stayed, would he have been able to fend off their attack enough to get you to safety. How foolish of him for thinking they wouldn’t use dirty tricks like this to accomplish their goals.

Rumors and intel began to swirl like wildfire and at this point he couldn’t differentiate the accuracy of it all. There was one thing he knew for certain, the vision hunters had you and he was going to get you back.

Their campsite was simple and you wondered if they would really be able to escort all of these prisoners back to the city on their own. They were intimidating enough to keep most insurrection at bay, but you were not about to let them get away with this. After a quick analysis of your surroundings, you found a few potential options worth trying, now it was only a matter of timing.

“You won’t get away with this!” Someone shouted next to you and you patiently waited for an opportunity.

“Shut up.” A soldier barked, his dismissive attitude apparent from the lack of eye contact and the wave of his hand.

“This is wrong and you know it! Do you think you’re immune to the decree, when the day come to hand over your vision will you?!”

The soldier turned and made his way through the trembling captured, you used the scuffling of those trying to get out of his way as an excuse to move closer to your escape. The dirt scraped against your bound hands and pulled at your clothes, but you didn’t care because each inch you gained the closer you got to freedom.

You watched the soldier lift the woman from the ground, his impressive height apparent as she dangled above the well worn soil. “I will do what is necessary for the Raiden Shogun. I am bound by honor, unlike the resistance.”

“Honor! You know nothing of it. Put me down you brute.” She spat in his face and he reacted in kind. You hated the fact that you were using her as your distraction, but hopefully if this all worked out in the end freedom would be enough compensation for her bruised face. Your fingers brushed against a metal handle, the sword you were aiming for had been reached and you quickly worked to get yourself free from the bindings.

The loosening rope told you of your success but when your hand wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you moved to stand, a sudden pain against your head made your vision go blurry.

“What do you think you are doing?!” Shouted a voice near your ear. They were so loud that you shrunk away from it only to be yanked right back. “You think you could take on all of us? Are you stupid.”

“I didn’t think so.” You wheezed, blinking harshly to try and bring your vision back to clarity.

“Well let me help you understand.” He drug you away from the group but before you could take but a few steps, an intense groan blasted it’s way near you and the hand that held your hair fell away in an instant.

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked, hands finding your waist to steady you. It was like your eyes snapped back on because as soon as you turned your head, you found Thoma standing their with an expression you’d never seen before: fury.

“I’m - ouch - okay.” You whispered and then you realized the implications of him being there. Turning, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed against him, your voice turned tense as you shouted. “Ge-get out of here! What if they catch you!?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Thoma!”

He looked down at you, his arm tightening around you and you swore the world shifted red and the screaming soldiers shouts became muffled. “Until I know you are safe, I’m not leaving.” He looked forward and the glint of his polearm caught your attention. “Now hold on, okay.”

The dry landscape turned into a wildfire until only what Thoma wanted to remain, remained.

Zhongli

“This is very kind of you, Zhongli. To walk me home.” You chuckled, gazing up at him as you made your way down the path and toward the city. It wasn’t uncommon for Zhongli to escort you from place to place, but tonight you would have assumed he would stay on the Pearl and continue his lively conversation.

“It is no trouble at all, to allow you to walk by yourself would not sit well with me.” Zhongli commented matter-of-factly, his eyes closing as he nodded his head and gazed up toward the stars.

“You were having such a nice time, know that I didn’t mean to bring that too a close.” You scratched your forehead and adjusted your clothes after climbing the stairs from the docks. It was a rather pleasant night, but it usually was in Liyue this time of year.

“I would never insinuate you had ill intentions. I made this decision on my own, to escort you is no trouble at all.”

“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you Zhongli.” The lights of the festival swayed in the wind. To you they looked like fireflies in the sky, but that was such a silly thought you kept it to yourself. “I think I can manage on my own, if you want to go back?”

“Nonsense, I will stay until I know you are safe.” He glanced down at you and offered you a smile, one that spoke true and gave you the impression of ‘I will not be swayed.’

“Well, thank you.” You turned away from him in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment you were sure shined in your eyes and flashed across your expression. How can someone so regal find your company enjoyable at all - but Zhongli was so kind to anyone you fought against your better judgement to believe this gesture was more than common courtesy of a gentleman.

“It is my pleasure. Did you have an enjoyable time?” He asked, head examining the city streets and decorations as you had earlier.

“Oh yes! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve never attended something so high class.” You fussed at your outfit again, it was apparent you weren’t used to wearing something like this but you did your best to fit in and not insult the guest who invited you to join him.

“I am delighted to hear. It is far better to enjoy ones time when in company you relish, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely!” For a while, the two of you discussed the highlights and lowlights of the gathering. The sound of your laughter and excitement caught the attention of late night patrons, but you didn’t mind because it also caught the attention of the one you wanted the most.

It wasn’t until you neared your home that the conversation began to drift. Your heart was sad that the night was coming to a close but responsibilities held you to a tight schedule, even if you felt the itch to break them.

“Thank you again, Zhongli. This night will be one I remember for a while.” Your nails had received a break all evening, but, now that you were about to be alone, they felt the dig of your nervous habits once again.

“It was my pleasure, it is always a gift to spend the evening with you.” He bowed, his long hair slipping over his shoulder at the motion.

“I tend to agree with you.” Chuckling, you moved to unlock your door and when you looked back to Zhongli, his face was illuminated by the sparkling lanterns and yellow glow of the city. No matter what he did he radiated colors you’d never fully understand.

“Liyue has many festivals,” He began, his tone wistful, “though I must say the ones where lanterns adorn the city are my favorite. Do you not think they look like fireflies in the distance?” He asked, gazing up at a few that dangled across the bridges and walkways that lined the city.

“Yeah, actually I do.” You whispered as your eyes fell onto the man you loved so much it hurt to look at him, but, if it meant you could capture even a hint of his existence in your memory, you would happily suffer this pain.

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smoochi-modest · 3 years

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✿ [ Rose ] ✿

—> Genshin Impact - [ Xiao x Reader ]

—> [ Fem! Reader. No warnings on this one, it's more so an intro into a small series I plan create. Unsure what to classify it under, I'd say a fluff / comfort for the time being. ]

—> Description - [ He loves me, he loves me not or She loves me, she loves me not (originally effeuiller la marguerite in French) is a game of French origin, in which one person seeks to determine whether the object of their affection returns that affection. ]

—> Note - [ Please bare with me here, it's been awhile since I wrote anything. I apologize for any errors. 1.3k word count. ]

One rose symbolizes love at first sight, or so they say.

" He loves me... " you mutter as a delicate red rose petal found its way to the ground between your legs. Here you were, crisscrossed on the top of a mountain, lap full of pitiful flower petals. Each petal, each attempt at comforting a lonely soul. It felt as if the petal themselves plucked pieces of your heart in every negative way. Your heart strings playing a saddened yet calming tune for only you that night.

In all honesty, the "he" laced in your statement had been unknown for some time now. You weren't too sure who you wished for, however you knew someone must've been out there willing to give you even a moment of their precious time.

" ...He loves me not " Plucking the last petal, sighing in defeat you throw away the stem of yet another flower tarnished without any sign of blessings coming your way. What a silly tale, that a mere rose could predict something as important as ones true feelings for another.

Sat beneath the stars on the outskirts of a well known harbor, you watch as people group up within the city of Liyue, today was supposed to be a special day; or so you thought.

The celebration of a fresh full moon, and the day we honour the loss of an adeptus whom in the past saved their light. Their love. Their peace.

Here you sat alone. Admiring the lanterns that begun to float up into the night sky. Shifting in your spot, you grasp a hold of all the petals which were previously in your lap. Staring off into the night, you drop the petals, allowing them to fly in the gentle breeze along with the lanterns.

As you lost touch of the final petal, you hear a sound on the opposing side of the bush you had been at for quite some time now. Stealthily you make your way to it, cautious not to be seen by any danger that may lay behind its contents. Peeking a head over, your eyes are met with a young man seated on the grass, admiring the brightened sky.

The boy seemed to notice your presence almost immediately. Shifting his gaze, two golden eyes shine within your own, that gentle faraway look seemed to flee as a sternness arrived the moment you locked eye contact. Following afterwards, a short gasp escaped between your parted lips. Kneeling back down behind your rose bush, you couldn't help but feel guilty to have ruined his peace.

You weren't expecting to see another face in this area, most who came to see the Lantern Rite celebration were down in the city, so just who is that boy? curiously, you peak over once again to observe him. Only to be met with his eyes but much closer this time. Turns out he approached the bush as well, sitting just on the other side. He didn't make a peep, staring back at you with a near blank expression. Not a word had been said until you quietly mutter an apology,

" I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to be up here..."

Feeling awkward, trapped in his gaze, you shy away, looking at the grass beneath you, the sight of a single red rose left in the bush went far from unnoticed.

" I could say the same to you, mortal. "

Mortal? he spoke as if he weren't one as well, from the looks of it he was as human as you. You would've questioned but something about meeting a new person made you tense. Would it have been rude to question him right off the bat like this? who is he?

" Are you alright? " He said aloud, seeming almost concerned by your silence.

" I'm okay, just a little shocked is all. "

" Alright. "

With that, he looked back at the sky. His back leaning against the bush. The mysterious boy seemed to ease up, meanwhile you still felt tense. Perhaps some small talk could ease your nerves. You weren't sure if this was a good inexpectancy, but it didn't seem to hold any danger. The young mans presence was welcomed, but kept at a safe distance. You can't seem to recall the last time you spoke to someone besides yourself that day.

" The lanterns are pretty, aren't they? " You began, your gaze shifting back and forth between the lone rose and the night sky. At this point you couldn't differentiate the stars from the far off lanterns.

" They are. " He stated coolly, seeming fixated on the floating lights. This boy was at peace, a rare sight that you were graced to see without even realizing it. Curiosity burns in your soul, craving to learn more about him.

" Pardon me asking, but who exactly are you? Wait, I'm sorry. That's rude of me to not introduce myself first... " You began to fumble your words, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. " My name is [y/n]! "

Internally beating yourself over the head, you can't help but replay the introduction in your mind over an over again. Since when have you become so awkward? he has done nothing to fluster you so much, yet you can't help but feel your heart pound.

" You may call me Adeptus Xiao. Why are you so persistent on asking silly questions? it's becoming somewhat of an annoyance " the voice grumbles from behind you, as you too now leaned against the bush.

" Is it wrong of me to be curious of a lone boy out on his own? I'm sure I have no room to speak, but I've never seen you around before. Though I can't say I'm much of a people person, so I may have forgotten. " Smiling sheepishly, you attempt to lighten the mood. He doesn't seem to care much for talking with you, only making you frown. Maybe you really were just an annoyance.

" How about you ask me a question in return! "

" Why would I do that? " he inquired.

" Because I'm trying to start a conversation here with you, ya know! and you are making this more difficult than it should be. "

The rosebush had been the only thing separating these two forms, one Mortal, one Adeptus. So close yet so far, they slowly warmed up to the other that night. Accepting each others company, they began to watch the lights of Lique fade, meaning the celebration had to come to an end soon enough as well. Soft tones, soft lights reflecting off your skin from the gentle glow luminating out of Liyue.

A moment of peaceful silence filled the air, until Xiao suddenly stood up in what seemed to be a rush. Concerned, you stood as well, getting a good look at his features for the first time.

" I must cut our time here short, I have a duty that I intend to fulfill. "

Xiao's speech felt so surreal, finding yourself begin to stare in awe. At first glance he'd be like any ordinary boy, but now that you have a moment to really take in his appearance, he was rather attractive. His petite frame wasn't something that overly mattered to you, unlike the way his hair seemed to frolic in the wind rushing to pass by, or the way his golden eyes resonated with the yellow light of lanterns. It felt like you were in the presence of an angel.

You still had so many questions to ask, yearning to be closer to the mysterious boy. Feeling the need to reach out, but didn't have time or were you simply afraid? what was their to fear when all you felt was comfort within his sharp gaze.

" If you ever feel you are in need, call out my name and I will return at your wake and call. "

Taking one last side glance at your shifting expression, he vanished into the night within a blink of an eye. Leaving you behind once again with your lone rose.

'Maybe it wouldn't hurt to pluck a couple extra tonight.' You thought. Smiling gently to yourself, you can't help but replay this special night in your head. Perhaps crossing paths with this Xiao character would be a pleasant change of pace in your life.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact comfort #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #Rose #smoochi modest

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novaiya · 3 years

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Diamonds & Rust Part II - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Part I

Summary: It’s been three years since that fateful night. Three years during which you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now, the fate once again brought the two of you together. Was it for the last time, or was something else bound to happen?

Words: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, F!Reader, Smut

A/N: If you prefer to read this on AO3, click here. This took me two months to write LOL But in the end, I’m very pleased with how it turned out.

Your hand shook as you held the pen above the crisp, spotless paper. You took a deep breath, writing the date, but couldn’t proceed beyond that. You dropped the pen and planted your elbows on the table, hiding your face in your hands.

It’s been three years since you last saw each other. Three years since you were held in his hands and caressed by his lips. The time you shared on that cold, foggy night felt both lightyears and a touch away. You thought it to be a perfect, picturesque ending to your imperfect relationship, like a final scene in a play, but it seemed it was merely an intermission.

After a few moments of rest you wrote, “Dear Arthur” and spilled out the reason for your letter. Few nights ago, your ranch was attacked by a group of local cattle rustlers. Seeing how well your ranch was doing, they wanted their cut, and when you stood your ground, they were less than happy. They left you alone for the moment, but promised to be back in numbers, and that they were. Not a couple of days later, you were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunshots and a fire outside your window. Like they promised, they were back and ready to take what they felt they were entitled to. You watched them take away your cattle and set fire to your barn as your husband hastily packed up your valuables, and not shortly after, you were on your wagon, bound for your mother-in-law’s house, barely escaping the flames and the bullets.

You signed off with your name and an address of where you were staying, and with fleeing hope, posted the letter the next day.

As you patiently awaited Arthur’s reply or an arrival, a curious elephant entered your household that neither you or your husband were ready to address. The woman that your husband knew you as was a kind, gentle woman who’s biggest crime was accidentally buying two gallons of milk and only paying for one. He never saw, or could imagine you carrying a weapon, and for all he knew, you didn’t know how to use one. The woman he saw during the attack, however, he did not know. She skillfully held the shotgun in her hands, dropped the slugs in without even looking and didn’t fall backwards when the recoil hit. She had a fire in her eyes that threatened to overpower the one outside, and for a second, even he, her husband, was afraid of her. Having been born to a simple family in which his mother was gentle and submissive, serving as a pliable partner to his father, he was shocked to see you so strong and hard. He was still deciding what he thought of this discovery of this new you, and during that time, you could feel him drift away.

You didn’t miss the change in him, how he eyed you from the corner of his eyes during dinner time, or the cold space between the two of you when you went to bed. It hurt and it stung and it made you long for Arthur’s arrival so much more. With him, there were no secrets you had to hide. You never went to bed with a fear that one day your facade would fall apart, and he would shriek at seeing the real you. From the beginning, he knew everything there was to know about you, and accepted it. What some would see as character flaws, he simply saw as character traits that made you who you were. With him, you could be you, something that you realized you couldn’t be with your husband. When the two of your married, you hoped that it would put a final nail in the coffin of your past self, but it seemed that your past self refused to die, and your husband shrieked at seeing the dead corpse.

__________________

“There’s a letter for you, Arthur,” said Miss Grimshaw as she passed Arthur who was hitching his horse to a hitching post.

He thanked her and made his way to his tent where an envelope laid on his cot.

“Let’s see,” he said to himself as he tore the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper. As he read your name on the bottom of the paper, he felt a familiar pang that the thought of you always brought to him. He skimmed through the rest of the letter, plucking the main points as well as your address before shoving the paper in his satchel and making his way to the back of the wagon that served as a wall to his tent. He looked over a map that was there, calculating how long it would take to get to you. Eight hours, he thought, six if he cut on any unnecessary breaks and sleep. He once again made his way around the wagon and went to a chest at the end of his cot, picking out a pair of fresh clothes and other necessary items for the trip. He was doing everything on autopilot, for his mind was too clouded with the thoughts of you to pay attention to what his hands were doing. He remembered your last meeting, and how it opened so many old wounds and created even more new ones. In that moment, when the two of you held each other, whispered love confessions into the silent night, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, but when he left, the blow was just as strong.

When he finished packing, he looked around; Pearson and Abigail were busy chopping vegetables, with little Jack sitting at his mother’s feet. Dutch and Molly were in their tent, talking (arguing would be a better word). The girls were doing chores, with Miss Grimshaw watching over them and correcting their techniques. Most of the men were out on jobs, leaving only Javier standing at guard duty. Even though everyone had free rein to come and go whenever they pleased, Arthur especially, he didn’t want to be asked unnecessary questions, so he waited until Javier was on the other side of the perimeter to mount his horse and ride away to you.

__________________

As you sat at the dining room table of Bertha’s, your mother-in-law, house, you kept praying that Arthur got your letter and found it in himself to help you. You found yourself thinking that maybe it might’ve gotten lost, or perhaps the rain soaked the envelope and the letter to the point it had to be thrown away. With nothing to do but wait, you kept fidgeting with your dress as you sat by the table, only to promptly raise up when you heard the sound of the hoofbeats approach. You pushed the front door open with a smile as hopeful as that of a child, for it to only fall apart when you saw that it was your husband, coming back from a run to the town for provision. The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t say anything, and just kissed your cold cheek as he moved past you into the house.

“You still think he’ll come?” your husband asked one morning as he sat at the dining room table and you washed the dishes. It’s been about a week since you posted the letter, and Arthur still hasn’t come. You were beginning to lose hope, but didn’t show it.

“I’m sure,” you said, not turning away from the dishes in your hands. You told your husband that you knew someone who could help, and when he inquired who it might be, you told him it was a friend from your past life, someone who helped you get back on your feet after you lost your parents. That didn’t satisfy his curiosity, so he pried on. Answering his questions was like walking through a field full of landmines. Every answer had to be calculated, giving just enough information to satisfy his curiosity and not to lead to more questions. At the end of the conversation, you were hopeful that the newfound information you shared would bring you two back together, but in fact, it did the opposite, and he felt that there was even more he didn’t know about you.

As you washed the dishes, you looked through the window in front of you and felt thunder run through your entire being. You could never mistaken that mare for anyone else, with her unique coat and her silky locks; it was Boadicea, and with her, someone else you could never mistaken; Arthur. You watched him through the dirty kitchen window as he hitched Boadicea to a tree nearby and made his way to the house in strong, long strides. You dropped the dishes back into the sink with a splash and ran to the door, opening it as Arthur was about to knock.

“Arthur,” you said with a smile that lit up your whole face.

He could feel his heartbeat all over his body as he was met with your face. Your smile made your entire face glow, and he could see sparkles in your eyes as you looked at him. Knowing that he was the reason for your reaction, he could feel the familiar haze of feelings cloud his entire being.

He spoke your name in return, his voice enveloping each syllable with affection and tenderness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, and which your husband could hear from where he sat at a dining room table.

The two of you stood at the threshold for a brief moment, caught up in each other’s eyes and closeness. You fought the urge to embrace him, to kiss him and to tell him how much you missed him, and he did the same. Instead, you moved away and motioned for him to get inside. As he did so, he almost instantly met eyes with your husband, who rose up from his seat to greet the man.

“Roy Dorset,” your husband said as he extended his hand.

“Arthur Morgan.”

As you watched, the two men shared an awkward, silent handshake, during which you had a chance to compare and contrast the two of them. You certainly had a type, you though, as you looked at the men before you, both of them tall and handsome. There were, however, noticeable distinctions that differentiated them, and served as a representation of the person you were with each of them. Roy, being a part time rancher and a part time bookkeeper for a general store in your town, was dressed as a man about town with carefully ironed pants, clean shirt and a vest with all the buttons attached. He was a proper god-fearing, law-abiding man who had traditional standards for people, some of which you sometimes felt you couldn’t reach yourself.

Arthur, in contrast, was dressed haphazardly, wearing old, patched jeans, boots that have seen better days and a shirt that has clearly been washed many times over. By his look, you could tell Arthur didn’t care what others thought of him. He wore - and did - what he wanted, without a care for other people’s opinion. He didn’t hide himself behind anything, and that’s what you wished you could do now.

After a moment of pleasantries, the three of you sat at the dining room table to discuss the matter at hand. You sat at the head of the table, with Roy to your left and Arthur to your right. You and Roy explained what happened at the ranch, adding details that you forgot to write about in the letter. At some point as the three of you talked,

your daughter came up to the table. With her grandmother asleep and all of her toys left at home, she had nothing to do, so she decided to join you.

You hoisted her up to your lap and let her stay with you as you continued talking.

Despite the conversation still going, Arthur lost all attention as soon as he saw your daughter. What shocked him first was that you had a daughter in the first place, but what shocked him even more was how little the girl looked like your husband. While still trying to seem as he was listening, Arthur inconspicuously kept looking between your daughter and your husband. While Roy had dark, brown hair, the little girl in your lap had light, dirty blonde locks. Her eyes, which were traveling all over the room, looking for something to busy herself with, were a whirlpool of green and blue, while Roy’s, which at the moment were looking down on his lap, were a dull, brown shade. Suddenly, realization hit Arthur. He started to think back on your last encounter. Could it be? He tried to figure out how old the child was, and tried to remember the time of the year when the two of you were together. He could feel himself getting lightheaded as all the thoughts filled his mind, making him not hear his own name being called.

“Arthur,” you said once again when he didn’t answer you the first time. As if being pulled out from a dream, he looked around, suddenly forgetting where he was.

“I said, what do you think about the plan?” you said, looking at Arthur at the same time as the girl in your lap.

Arthur could feel all the eyes on him, and a color painted his face. He could faintly remember what you talked about a moment ago. Something about the best path to take back to the ranch, how dangerous the road might be with wolves roaming around. After a moment of pause, he returned with, “Sounds good to me,” and the conversation went on, with Arthur still barely paying attention.

_________________

You carefully slipped out of the covers, trying not to wake your husband up, before walking across the room on your tiptoes, opening the door and leaving the room. You couldn’t sleep. With Arthur’s proximity, you found yourself laying in bed with the thoughts of him. You tried to squash those pesky thoughts, turned from one side to the other in your bed as you kept telling yourself that you couldn’t, shouldn’t do it despite how much you wanted to. As you looked at your husband, his face illuminated by the light from the moon outside, you thought of doing to him what you did to Arthur all those years ago. You left Arthur for a search for a better, calmer and stable life, and now you want to leave that life to go back to Arthur.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a glass of whiskey, looking out of the window into the world outside. With it being late fall, some trees have already shed their leaves, leaving once bushy woods stripped. You could see birds, once hidden from the prying eyes by the leaves now on full display on the branches. They were close enough that you could hear them sing, but not enough to understand what it is they were saying.

Suddenly, you heard the wood planks squeak behind you and smiled.

“Can’t sleep either?” you said without turning around.

“No,” Arthur replied as he went to stand next to you.

Without another word you took a shot glass and poured him one.

“Thank you for coming,” you said as you gave him the glass. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“‘Course I would,” he said before swinging back the shot.

At finally having a moment alone with him, you were fighting back the urge to spill everything that’s been on your mind, to ask every question and tell every answer that you’ve been holding for the past three years and for the past few hours that he’s been here. You decided it’s best to start off slowly.

“How have you been? How’s the gang?”

“Fine, I guess,” he said as he turned around to lean against the counter, crossing his hand on his chest. “Picked up a few people along the way. The gang’s twice its size now.”

You nodded at his answer.

“Seems you’ve had an addition too.”

The statement made heat rise to your face, and you swallowed down, nodding again.

“What’s her name?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Lily.”

“Beautiful name,” he said. “How old is she?”

“Three,” you said, knowing very well where this was going.

“Is she mine?” His voice was calm and reticent despite the fact that his mind was racing so fast he thought he was going to faint no matter what your answer was.

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his question wash over you. The question that was lingering in the air since the moment your daughter was born, and that only became stronger when Arthur came today, was finally asked. To your own surprise, you felt yourself relax after a few seconds had passed. With the question being finally asked, you could feel the weight of it lifted from your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning your head away

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he returned, somewhat exasperated.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you repeated, your voice more stern, but still hushed as to not wake anyone up. “I don’t know.” You lowered your head before speaking again. “I don’t know. Roy and I were trying during that time.”

You held yourself in your hands, your head hanging low. About three years ago, Roy and you have been trying for months to get pregnant. Nothing was happening, until suddenly, it did. Roy was overjoyed, feeling that Isis has finally shined her light on the two of you. You, however, knew it took more than an Egyptian goddess of fertility to bring you to the situation at hand. Right away, you did the math, and despite how much you tried to tell yourself that the days could be a little bit off, the numbers didn’t lie. It only became more apartment when your daughter was born; within a few days, you could see traces of him in her; her light hair, her blue eyes. Even her lips and nose looked like his. She was a visual reminder, everyday, of what you and Arthur could have had.

“She looks like me, you know,” Arthur said, walking around to stand in front of you, his proximity making your heartbeat quicken like it always did.

“I know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“What if she’s mine?”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your head low and your eyes focused on the ground until you felt his hand, soft and warm on your cheek, making you look up.

You felt enveloped in his love as you looked into his eyes. They were kind and inviting as he looked at you, and without saying anything, they offered shelter from all the worries of life.

His thumb traced your lower lip and you involuntarily opened your mouth, gasping. He stepped a little bit closer, pushing you against the counter with his body, making you feel all of him against you, the thin material of his union suit not leaving an inch of space between the two of you.

“I missed you,” he said.

He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a chance to slip away if you so desired to. You didn’t, waving your hands in his hair and bringing him closer instead, deepening the kiss. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not resisting your inner desires. You hated how with just a touch, he had you under his control. His hands ran down your sides, following your curves from your chest over your waist and to your hips, stopping there. One of your hands reached out to touch his cheek, feeling a light stubble there (he went to you right away after finishing a mission, not having a chance to even shave) You remembered the night the two of you shared three years ago, how the feeling of his lips lingered on your for months after.

You wanted to get lost in the kiss, in him, but suddenly, a voice coming from the stairs pulled you out of your reverie, and the two of you broke apart as fast as you came together. You were slightly panting, both from the kiss and from the rush of anxiety at being caught. You looked up at the stairs from where the voice came, and after a few moments, two small feet came into the light, padding barefoot down the stairs.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” you said as you kneeled down to look at your daughter.

One of her hands held onto the arm of her stuffed bear, a friend who kept her company at night, while the other brushed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to stay awake long enough to talk to you. “Grandma’s snoring,” she drew before yawning.

You smiled, ruffling her blonde locks a bit before saying, “Well, you can sleep with daddy and me tonight then.”

Arthur stood a few feet away, watching the two of you without saying a word. He could feel resentment bubbling in him at your husband, and at the same time, himself. Despite how much he wanted to put all the blame on Roy (for “stealing” you), he realized that the only person he had to blame was himself. If he wasn’t so stupid all those years ago, if he just took your hand and let you lead him out of the outlaw life, this - a life with a house, a daughter and you as his wife - could’ve all been his. “Darlin’, right now ain’t a good time,” he would say when you would press him about finally making your escape. “We need more money if we wanna start on our own” would be another of his excuses. Truth be told, as much as he wanted to start a fresh, new life with you, he was afraid. Outlaw life was everything he’d ever known. He was raised and became the man he was today in it. He was terrified that out there, in the world of law and order, in which one woke up in the morning to start a day of work, and had proper suppers at the table with their family, he wouldn’t survive.

The sound of Lily’s voice, calling for him, pulled him out of his thoughts. Her clear, blue eyes, looked up at him as she asked him if he was her mother’s friend. You turned around to look at Arthur, and after a few seconds he said, “Yeah, I am. Something like that.” She smiled in return, calmed at knowing that the strange, big man was not a stranger at all but a friend. As you picked her up, ready to take her to bed, she introduced herself to Arthur, and asked him what his name was. He introduced himself, and in return, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Arthur.” You didn’t know why, but at seeing the scene play out, you could feel tears well up in your eyes. It could’ve all been so different, you thought. The three of you were so close at being a family, practically looked like one right now. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down before murmuring that it’s already too late, and walking over to your bedroom door with your daughter in your hands. You stopped at the door for a second, fumbling with the door knob. Arthur watched your back as you stood, your daughter’s head peeking from behind your shoulder, before you turned the knob and disappeared into the room.

He stood in the dark, empty dining room for a few more minutes, going over the scene that just unfolded a million times. He could feel the weight of everything crushing him down, breaking his bones and turning them into dust. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, shaking his head.

“Idiot,” he said to himself before taking the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another shot.

______________

The sound of birds singing outside accompanied you as you woke up. It was still early and no one was up yet, so you got ready without any hurry before going into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Not a while later, Bertha joined you in the kitchen, and the two of you had everything ready right as the men came to take their seats at the table.

You kept quiet as you ate breakfast, with Arthur sitting across from you, Lily next to him, and Roy next to you. Bertha, being the kind host that she was, something that she got used to from the years of marriage to an army Sergeant, couldn’t sit still and continued to check up on everybody, pouring coffee even when the cups were halfway full and making sure there were no empty plates on the table. It was only when Roy said, “Enough, mother” did she take a seat at the head of the table and started her own meal.

As you ate your breakfast, Roy and Arthur talked, discussing once again the best route to take back to the ranch. Despite not planning on going himself, Roy still wanted to make sure his opinion on the matter was considered and suggested the main road, which although would take longer, was safer from wild animals and any “savage outlaws that roamed the plains.” Arthur snickered at his choice of words, and noted that if he wanted to “come back to a ranch and not heap of ash, a shortcut is a better option.” Roy didn’t reply anything and turned back to his meal.

As Bertha sipped on her coffee, she turned to face you and asked, “Are you going too?”

“No,” both Roy and Arthur said in unison, and “Yes,” said you.

An awkward silence fell over as the three of you looked between each other. You could feel the men eyeing you in bafflement, Roy especially, but you looked at Arthur and spoke to him first.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” you said, disbelief painted all over your face.

Arthur shook his head, looking away and furrowing his brows.

“You’re not coming, it’s too dangerous,” he said, turning back to face you.

You let out a small chuckle before saying, “We’ve faced far more dangerous things than some puny cattle rustlers.”

Arthur dropped his fork and knife on the table with a loud thud and said, “You have a daughter now, I ain’t gonna let you put yourself in harm's way.”

“But you’re gonna let yourself get in harm's way?” you returned, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at him.

“They know who you are, they don’t know me,” he said, the volume of his voice long past what was appropriate for a breakfast conversation. “I can get in and out and they won’t know what hit em”

“And do you expect me to just sit patiently and wait?” you said, throwing your hands around. “What if something goes wrong? What if they’re more dangerous than we thought? Am I supposed to just wait till someone brings in your body?” Your words began to tangle in each other, becoming almost incoherent as you spoke faster than your mind could process. They, however, were cut short as Arthur shouted your name and hit his palm down on the table, making a glass of water spill.

Finally, the silence fell over the dining room once again and the only thing that could be heard were drops of water hitting the floor. Both Bertha and Roy sat wearing similar expressions, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide at what they just saw and heard. They felt like spectators, watching a play unfold before their eyes.

As you tried to calm yourself down, you remembered how back when you were in the gang, the two of you almost never went on missions without each other. At first, it bothered Dutch that if he wanted to send you on a mission, Arthur was bound to come along (and vice versa), but soon, he came to accept that the two of you were a package deal. He even took a notice that the jobs went smoother when the two of you were together, evident by the fact that you would get the job done quicker, and your gains were higher than those that Arthur and you brought when you went separately.

“You know I can’t let you go alone, Arthur,” you said after some time.

As if riding down the same memory lane you just did, he sighted and shook his head.

“I know,” he said before getting up from the table and going over to the room where he stayed.

Slightly shaken up from the intense display that took place, Bertha got up from the table, and without a word started cleaning up, taking empty plates and cups and putting them in the sink. You sat with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and bracing yourself for what was to come. You could already feel Roy open his mouth, could already hear his voice…

Arthur was haphazardly throwing his stuff in his bag, crumpling his shirts and pants into balls and pushing them into his bag as if the clothes themselves were at fault for his mood. He remembered how much fun the two of you had when you went on the jobs together. How the sight of blood and the smell of gunpowder did nothing more than excite you. A smile broke through his solemn face at the memory. But now, he thought, it was different. Not only had it been years since you were in the line of fire, but you now had a child. Your life has changed, you got away, broke free from the never ending nightmare in which one has to always look behind their back and sleep with one eye open and a gun under their pillow. He didn’t want you back into that kind of life, if it could even be called that. Deep in his mind, however, he knew it wasn’t for him to decide.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning over a dresser and closing his eyes. He could’ve probably plunged deeper into his thoughts, but a sound of hushed tones outside got his attention, and he straightened up, inching closer to the door and pressed his ear against it.

“I was okay with your past, but this is pushing it,” Roy said.

“Is my past pushing it?”

“Your past is in the guest bedroom, getting dressed.”

Your shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left your lips. You and Roy have been bickering for the past five minutes. Truth be told, the bickering has been going on for the past few days, but only now has it culminated. The tension that he felt between you and Arthur just a few minutes ago drove him over the edge - the edge to which he came from seeing you hold a gun, hearing more about your past and now, seeing Arthur - and he found himself not being able to hold his thoughts and feelings in any longer. Just like it always happened with couples who started arguing about one thing, only to move on to a completely unrelated one, you both got defensive. The conversation was fruitless. Nothing of the matter was discussed, no solution was reached and everyone was left thinking the other was in the wrong, leaving the two of you sitting next to each other like strangers in a train station, waiting for the next train.

“I’m doing this for us, Roy,” you said.

“You’re doing this for yourself,” he spit out before adding, a little bit softer, “You’ve changed a lot in these couple of weeks. I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

You felt yourself detach from the world upon hearing his words. You could faintly hear him continue talking, referencing the relationship between his mother and father, and how the former always consulted her husband before any major decision, but you were not listening. You smiled weakly to yourself at the irony that upon showing him the real you, with all your past and your secrets, he said he didn’t know you anymore. Didn’t know, or he didn’t want to, you thought. Your mind instantly went back to Arthur, like it often tended to these past few days, and you thought of how from the beginning, he knew who you were, and without a word, accepted and loved you.

“You ready?”

Arthur’s voice pulled you out of your mind, and stopped Roy in his speech. You looked at Arthur, and then at Roy. For the first time since you got married, you didn’t feel anything when looking into your husband's eyes. You could see him plead, silently, for you not to go.

Without saying a word, you got up from your chair and went to your room to get

ready.

_________________

You turned your head around to watch your husband stand on the porch as you and Arthur roared off to your destination. You wondered what he thought as his figure grew smaller and smaller till he completely disappeared behind the trees. You turned back forward, spurring your horse.

The feeling of being back on a horse, with an iron on your hip and wind in your hair was exhilarating. You could feel life flow through your veins as you held the reins. Through clear plains, mountains and forests, the two of you rode non-stop for a few hours. There was not a single person on your way, only occasional elks, deers, and raccoons accompanying you on the journey. For a moment, you felt like you were once again an outlaw. All of this felt so familiar; you and Arthur, adrenaline in your veins, dirt road ahead. For a moment, you caught yourself thinking that if it weren’t for your daughter back home, you simply would’ve kept riding on.

As you kept going, the sun slowly began to set, painting the road in front of you in orange.

“Let’s make camp,” Arthur said when the sun completely disappeared, and the night loomed over.

As you found a secluded space in the woods, the two of you fell into a long-established routine, with you going out to get some firewood and Arthur hunting a rabbit for the two of you to eat. The night might’ve been a bit chilly, but with the campfire next to you and the rum Arthur found in his satchel, the two of you were nice and warm as you enjoyed food, drinks and conversations that piled up from years apart.

Your combined laughs could be heard all throughout the forest as Arthur told you about the latest predicament that John got himself into, and which he of course had to save him from. Sounds like John, you thought. You couldn’t tell how many times you and Arthur were sent to rescue him from some sort of trouble. Being the youngest, John always felt that he had to prove something to someone, which in the end, only proved that he was still the baby of the gang (despite at that point being a full grown adult).

Gradually, the laughter died down, but the smile still lingered on your lips.

“What are you so happy about?” Arthur said.

You looked into the fire, watching the flames dance and reach towards the sky, as you answered. “It’s been so long since I felt so at ease, so free…” you said.“I just-I’m real happy being here.”

Arthur hummed at your answer before saying, “Ranch life ain’t cutting it for you no more?”

“A woman can only shovel shit for so long,” you said, making Arthur chuckle. You took another swig of the rum before passing it to Arthur.

“I took this all for granted when we was together,” you said, looking around, “the freedom, the nature, the road. And now when I don’t have it, I crave it.”

You looked up, catching Arthur’s gaze and holding it as you continued.

“I find myself so often thinking about the past,” you said and added, a little lower, “about you, how much I miss it all.”

Arthur could already feel the effect of your words on him, could already feel the intensity with which his heart beat faster. Hearing you say those words, sparked a flame in him. Only a few seconds passed before you continued speaking, but it was enough for Arthur to imagine, for a brief moment, a future with the two of you together. Could it be possible? Did he still have a chance at the happy ever after? He always was a firm believer that you can’t expect good things to happen to you while doing bad things, but in that instance, he allowed himself to believe that something good could happen.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said, shaking your head, “I think I made a mistake all those years ago.”

The camp was silent except for the crackling of fire as your words hung in the air. Unlike a few years ago, you didn’t backtrack on your words, didn’t feel embarrassed by them. You meant every syllable and every letter. As much as you adored your current life, with your cows and your ranch, you found yourself thinking more often that you weren’t meant for it. You were tired of playing the role of the doting housewife, a rancher, shoveling shit and milking cows. The real you was out there, among the horses and the gun smoke. The thought only got stronger the closer you were to Arthur, and now that you were sitting next to each other, your thighs almost touching together, it reached its pinnacle.

No more words needed to be said as you held Arthur’s gaze. Everything has been said years ago. You stood up and got into his lap, draping your hands over his shoulders while his instantly went for your hips. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, admiring each other under the moonlight. You were conscious of nothing except the feeling of each other’s bodies against one another. Finally you moved your head closer, brushing your lips against his. You could feel his breath on your lips, the rum that the two of you drank still fresh on them. He closed his eyes, already leaning forward towards you.

His hands tightened on your hips when you pressed your lips against his, slow and gentle like you always were. The two of you quickly found a comfortable pace, your lips moving against each other in a perfect flow, your tongues brushing against one another every once in a while. Instinctively, you started to move your hips against his, searching for that delicious feeling you were craving. Arthur wasn’t holding back either, moving his hips in tandem with yours, brushing his clothed erection over your center. His hands left your hips, moving to your blouse and unbuttoning it, revealing your naked chest.

You helped him completely remove your blouse, throwing it into direction unknown. As soon as it was away, his mouth was on your skin, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

“Arthur,” you moaned when his tongue circled your nipple. You tangled your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and pushing your chest closer to his mouth. You could feel his beard scraping at your chest, adding a slight burn that only heightened your pleasures. One of his hands started palming your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and making you throw your head back, moaning into the night.

He started going up your neck once again, leaving light nips and kisses from your chest, up your collarbone and neck, reaching to your ear. He kissed behind your ear while one of his hands was palming your breast, sending jolts of pleasure all through your being.

“Darlin’,” he said, kissing over your jaw and cheek, “I ain’t never lettin’ you go again.”

When it came to words, Arthur’s were always simple. He didn’t use any extraordinary vocabulary or elaborate euphemism. He always said what he meant, and his words always came from his heart. Hearing him utter this promise now, which held a vision of the future so beautiful you could hardly imagine it, made you teeter on the verge of crying tears of joy. You crashed your lips against his, not knowing any other way to express the sheer mix of love, lust and longing you were feeling.

Neither of you could wait much longer and you untangled yourself from each other, standing up and starting to remove each other's clothes. He helped you unbuckle your belt and throw it aside while you unbuttoned his shirt. His lips were back on yours as he helped you pull his shirt away and went to work on the buttons of your pants. Before long, the little camp you set up was littered with your combined clothes, leaving you in just your drawers and Arthur in his union suit.

It was a beautiful night, with a sky so clear that the amount of stars around was inestimable. You, however, didn’t pay any attention to them, keeping your eyes on Arthur as you slowly pulled down your drawers, letting them fall to the ground. His breathing became haggard as he took in your naked form, flushed in pink from the campfire next to you. He's seen you naked before countless times, yet the sight of our body never stopped to take his breath away. His breathing was caught in his throat as he watched your every movement, following your hands as they reached out to the buttons of his union suit.

You could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes as you stood in front of him, popping button after button of his union suit, revealing his tan skin. Once the last button was open, he helped you take his union suit off, leaving the two of you naked to each other.

He took your hand in his and helped you down to the bedroll, covering your body with his. With the campfire next to you, and Arthur’s body covering yours, you felt warm and safe, protected from any and every thing the world could throw at you. One of his hands reached out, cradling your face.

You placed your hand on his chest, running it up to his head and tangling it in his hair, bringing him down and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was as fiery and as hot as the fire you were laying next to, and in that moment, you realized that you never fell as alive as when you were with Arthur. “Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for things it has forbidden to itself,” you remembered a quote from the book you were reading a few weeks ago, and realized you were tired of resisting. You didn’t know what tomorrow had in store for you, but right now, you had Arthur and that’s all that mattered.

Breaking the kiss, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You didn’t even have to think to answer. Your answer came so quick it almost sounded as if the two of you talked at the same time.

The lopsided smile that appeared on Arthur’s lips at your words was so genuine and innocent, it made you smile in return. You made sure to burn the image of it in your memory, just like all the others you got throughs the years when the two of you said, “I love you”.

He settled comfortably between your spread legs and took a hold of his member before slowly pushing in.

“Arthur,” you moaned his name, clawing at his back when he bottomed out. You were practically dripping with how wet you were, yet his girth still gave you that delicious feeling of being stretched.

He kept still for a few moments, letting you get used to him all while whispering praises in your ear and kissing down your neck. When you felt you were ready, you moved your hips.

As if in a dream, silhouetted by the trees, the two of you made love under the starry night sky. The erotic novels would be envious of the passion the two of your shared; your bodies, sweaty, moving against each other in a perfect rhythm, your hands and legs, entangled in each other, your moans and sighs, unbounded, sounding in an empty forest. You were so lost in each other, you didn’t care if anyone heard you, the existence of other people didn’t register to you. The world was only as big as your camp, and the only people in it were the two of you.

You could feel yourself near the peak, could feel your legs twitch each time Arthur hit that delicious spot in you. He could feel it too, with how your walls were squeezing him tighter, and how your eyes were rolling to the back of your head each time he pushed in you. He wasn’t far behind either. One of his hands reached between the two of you, finding your clit and teasing it. It was as if an electric current shot through you; all your energy centered on where Arthur was touching you. You dug your nails into Arthur’s back, holding on to him as you breathed his name into his ear.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, “let me feel you.”

As if hearing his voice was the last piece you needed to fall apart, you did. You saw white for a few moments as the immense pleasure took over your body, igniting every last nerve in you to life. You kept your body moving against his, your primal urges making you chase every last bit of pleasure you could get.

The sight of you so lost in lust, your face contoured from the pleasure you were feeling pulled Arthur overboard, and he came a few moments later, spilling in you and warming your walls with his seed.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes, entangled in each other, whispering “I love you”s as you showered each other with kisses, from neck, to cheeks, to forehead and lips.

In the end, the two of you moved to the tent, draping a blanket over your bodies and holding onto each other. As the night went on, the tent filled with your combined dreams and hopes for the future. For the first time since the two of you got together, Arthur seriously discussed the possibility of leaving the gang so the three of you (You, Arthur and your daughter) could run away somewhere. You listened to him with your mouth open, not daring to make a single noise in fear of missing even a word he said. Could it be possible, you thought. Could you finally have the perfect ever after you’ve always dreamt of with Arthur? By the tone of his voice and how deeply in details he went as he planned the possible escape, you realized that your new life was right around the corner.

Despite the exhilarating conversation you were having, the two of you remembered you still had to wake up early tomorrow to make it to the ranch in time (the final loose end you had to tie before you were free). Reluctantly, you brought the conversation to a close - hopefully to be picked up again later - and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Hopefully I’m not too early but What if Jiang Fengmian went “they only asks for blood heirs” and gave Jiang Cheng up to the Wen Indoctrination Camp because he cannot bear Wei Wuxian going and possibly getting hurt. JC is very hurt by the blatant favouritism of his father but still went as his duty dictates. He somehow become close friends with Huaisang, MianMian, and Jin Zixuan. Please give me Jiang Cheng Protection Squad. MingCheng sort of happens? Thank you so much!

“…wow,” Nie Huaisang said when Jiang Cheng finished explaining. “That’s – that’s bullshit.”

Jiang Cheng flushed. Secretly, in his heart, he agreed a little bit with Nie Huaisang’s assessment, but at the same time he couldn’t just sit around while someone said things about his father…

“Before you say that I can’t say something like that, I’m not being cruel or dismissive, I’m describing the situation accurately using crude words,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “It’s not the same.”

That…sounded wrong.

“Back me up here,” Nie Huaisang said to the others in their group. They’d been put into a single group by the Wen sect, all of them but Mianmian who’d snuck over by climbing a tree, and given a too-small, too-crowded tent to sleep in and a single fire pit to warm themselves. How that had let them to sitting by the fire and sharing stories of how they’d been sent here, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure. “Sect Leader Jiang deciding that because the Wen sect only asked for blood heirs that he wouldn’t sent Wei-xiong here alongside Jiang-xiong because he might get hurt is a situation can be, and indeed must be, accurately described as being total bullshit, right?”

“…it kind of is,” Jin Zixuan said. “Sorry, Jiang Wanyin.”

“It definitely is,” Mianmian said, emboldened by her sect leader’s agreement. “Absolutely bullshit.”

Even Lan Wangji hummed. It was a pretty neutral sound, but it might be an affirmative hum.

Well, if everyone agreed…

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders went down a fraction from where they’d been hovering around his ears.

“I wasn’t just taking it too personally?” he asked, seeking confirmation. “I mean, Father’s right – it doesn’t make sense to give the Wen sect two hostages when they’ve only asked for one, and there’s always the risk that Wei Wuxian would get hurt –”

“Your father should be concerned about whether you get hurt!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, slapping the ground. “They don’t feed us, they make us work in the fields, and who knows what else…! When my brother heard about their request, he nearly killed the Wen sect’s messenger, he was so angry!”

“My mother was angry, too,” Jiang Cheng offered. “She and my father got into a big fight –”

Nie Huaisang jabbed a finger at him, rather rudely. “From the story you told, your mother only got really angry when she heard Wei Wuxian was staying behind.”

“…so?”

“There’s a difference between being upset over your son’s well-being and being upset that – that – that, I don’t know! That your favorite dog is losing the race!”

“My mother threw a vase at my father’s head when she heard that he’d agreed to send me here,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. He was actually a lot more tolerable without his retainers puffing him up and egging him on all the time, and having to work side-by-side in the fields had revealed that under the flash and arrogance there was an introverted boy who disliked dealing with people nearly as much as Jiang Cheng did. “Then she spent the next two days trying to find a way out of it, then hovered for the rest of the week before I left.”

“My father punched a wall,” Mianmian recalled. “Mother had to sit on him before he tried something crazy, like petitioning to remove me from the sect or something. Not that’d I’d ever have let Jin-gongzi come here alone, of course.”

“See?” Nie Huaiwang said, gesturing at them all. Lan Wangji hadn’t volunteered, but obviously no one would ask him, either; they’d all heard about the burning of the Cloud Recesses. No one had agreed to send him here. “Violence in response to an unreasonable request! Violence! Anything less is unacceptable!”

“You know, for the very first time, I think see your resemblance to the rest of the Nie sect?” Mianmian said, chin on her hand.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said. “No, not about the resemblance, about – the other part. It’s not anywhere near as bad as you’re all making it out to be; Wei Wuxian’s always been my father’s favorite, and Mother’s always been angry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“They should not compare you,” Lan Wangji said. He didn’t talk much, so everyone always listened when he did. “It is inappropriate.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never not been compared to Wei Wuxian, not since he’d arrived at the Lotus Pier all those years ago…and maybe even before.

“Even Lan-er-gongzi agrees,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling his knees up and putting his chin on them with a pout. “It’s all bullshit, I’m telling you. I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng told him.

“You could come to Lanling if you prefer,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him. “What? Your mother and mine are friends. It’d be fine. I wouldn’t – it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m the heir of the Jiang sect,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I can’t not go back!”

“Don’t think of it as not going back,” Mianmian said. “Think of it as taking a long detour.”

“You’d like Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang put in. “My brother’s really cool. He gives great hugs.”

“I bet he does,” Mianmian muttered appreciatively.

“Gross, Mianmian.”

“He’s seventh on the list of most attractive male cultivators, and in my personal opinion should be a good few places higher up. Get used to it.”

“I don’t do hugs anyway,” Jiang Cheng interjected before he somehow got sold up the river – he knew how this sort of thing went. “Father doesn’t like them.”

“…your father hugged Wei Ying when he arrived at the Cloud Recesses to collect him,” Lan Wangji said neutrally.

“Fine. He doesn’t like them with me. Never did, not really, the whole time I was growing up…well, I mean, I guess he did sometimes when I was really young, before Wei Wuxian came...”

“Are you seriously saying your father hugs Wei Wuxian and not you?” Jin Zixuan asked. “And that he - he stopped hugging you when Wei Wuxian was there? Because that’s – that’s…”

“Bullshit?” Nie Huaisang suggested.

“Bullshit,” Jin Zixuan agreed with surprising vehemence.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“No, what? No they’re not exaggerating, no they’re not –”

“No. It is bullshit.”

“…did we just get a Lan to curse?” Mianmian asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know Lans were allowed to do that. Ever.”

“It is not a curse,” Lan Wangji said with dignity. “It is an accurate description of the situation.”

“Vindication,” Nie Huaisang hissed. How Jiang Cheng had missed that he was such a vicious little snake during their time at the Cloud Recesses, he had no idea, and judging by the amused expressions on everyone else’s faces, they felt much the same. “See, Jiang Cheng, this is why you –”

“Time to sleep,” Lan Wangji interrupted. His internal sense of time was more reliable than any clock when it came to sleeping and waking, and no one complained – if they stayed out much later than nine the Wen sect guards would come to accuse them of making trouble, and no one wanted to be labelled a trouble-maker.

Mianmian disappeared back over to the women’s camp – boring in comparison, according to her, but more likely she just wanted to keep her word about watching over Jin Zixuan – and the rest of them shuffled back to bed.

Some time later that night, when Jiang Cheng was lying in the middle of a pile of arms and legs he could no longer differentiate, he stared at the ceiling and asked quietly, “…is it really that bad?”

An arm looped around his waist tightened, and a foot lightly nudged him from the other direction.

“It’s not that it’s bad,” someone said, and their voice was so faint that he couldn’t tell which of the boys it was. “It’s that you deserve better.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that.

He continued not to know what to say the next day, but that was the day that they got forced to act as bait on a night-hunt into a giant lightless cave and Mianmian nearly got herself killed, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji for standing up for her.

Under normal circumstances, Jiang Cheng would think first about his sect and only later about everyone else, and he tried, really, but – well, the Wens were attacking anyway, and somehow it’s Nie Huaisang of all people who hisses, “Get Wen Chao!” and Jiang Cheng had, and for a moment there it looked like they were going to be okay.

And then they all got stuck in a cave with a corrupted Xuanwu.

Minus the Wens, which was at least something.

“There are fresh maple leaves on the water,” Lan Wangji said. “There must be a way in and out.”

“I can dive in and check it out if someone distracts the Xuanwu,” Jiang Cheng offered. When they stared at him, he shrugged. “I’m a good swimmer.”

“You’d better be an amazing swimmer,” Jin Zixuan said. “I don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”

“I don’t think we get funerals here,” Nie Huaisang put in. “So if you die, you’ll stink up the whole place and we’ll all be very upset. I mean, gross!”

Jiang Cheng had by this point gotten used to Nie Huaisang’s – Nie Huaisang-ness, but it couldn’t be denied that everyone was a lot less terrified after listening to Nie Huaisang complain about nonsense for a bit. So much so, in fact, that it abruptly occurred to Jiang Cheng that maybe Nie Huaisang was doing it on purpose which…he wasn’t sure what to do with, so he decided to just put out of his mind.

Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan put their heads together and eventually decided on each of them using a fire talisman as a distraction, alternating between them, while Jiang Cheng crept to the water and found a way out, which he reported back.

“Someone will need to stay behind as a distraction,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. His hands were clasped together, and Jiang Cheng knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“No way,” he said. “You’re not staying behind. If anything, I should; I’m the best swimmer, I might be able to get around it even if it’s not distracted.”

“You know where the exit is; it is better if you lead those going out.”

“A description will do the trick just as well,” Jiang Cheng argued. “And anyway, it’s not – it’s not as if I’ll be missed at home, the way all of you would be.”

They all glared at him, then, and he shrugged angrily.

“It’s true,” he said, and he could say it only because Wei Wuxian wasn’t there to stop him. He wouldn’t even think it, if Wei Wuxian was there; Wei Wuxian always knew when it was coming and interrupted him with a smile or a joke or something, and so the bitterness never got a chance to be let out. But he wasn’t here now, they were, and everyone else seemed to think it was all bullshit and maybe it was, okay, maybe it was. But it didn’t make it any less true. “My father has always said that Wei Wuxian understood the sect motto better than I did. He wouldn’t be upset at all if the sect went to him instead, and if I was dead or injured he’d probably just give him the Jiang surname in my honor or something. Let me be the one to stay.”

“Uh, question,” Nie Huaisang said. “Why does anyone have to stay? Can’t we just set up a trap or something?”

“A trap?” Jin Zixuan said. “What do you mean?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged and looked at Lan Wangji. “Do you know Chord Assassination?”

Lan Wangji blinked, surprised, but nodded.

“Okay, so, here’s the idea…”

It was an extremely stupid idea, based on using the chords as part of a pulley, some Wen sect soldiers and swords used as counterbalance weights, but as a distraction it worked pretty beautifully right up until the last moment when Jiang Cheng was helping Lan Wangji – whose leg was broken – swim through the water and the Xuanwu abruptly noticed that they were all going to leave and dashed after them, getting its head stuck in the exit hole they were using.

“Should we behead it or something?” Jin Zixuan asked, staring at the thrashing beast. “It can’t be allowed to hurt others.”

“Using what?” Mianmian asked, holding up a Wen sword in disdain. “These pieces of – well. These swords? It wouldn’t work.”

“I can still do Chord Assassination,” Lan Wangji said, and with all of them heaving together they were able to hold the string down tight enough to eventually cut the thing’s head off at the neck.

Nie Huaisang even used the opportunity to go pick out some sort of sword that was sticking out of the creature’s side, which he’d declared to be extremely ‘aesthetic’ if you looked at it from a certain perspective.

By that point, they were all exhausted, but no one wanted to stay a second longer in Qishan than they had to – especially since one of the small sect cultivators who’d wandered further away had seen Wens incoming – so Jiang Cheng put Lan Wangji, now totally exhausted, on his back and they all ran away.

“Come visit me in Qinghe sometime!” Nie Huaisang shouted, waving as the Nie sect disciples split off in a different direction. “I promised you some high-quality proper affection hugs from my da-ge, Jiang Cheng! Just you wait, you’ll see how good they are!”

(They are every bit as good as promised.)

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #mian mian #jin zixuan #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #jikazu-sama

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Note

Hi wiyllt! just asking for some advice here!

I am pre-law and i just got a job in marketing lol

it's not really my passion but it's a great gig, it pays well and my work is flexible so it's doable with my school schedule! however, it does include some social media exposure (such as making instagram lives and stuff) and tbh i don't know how well my introverted ass can take this. it's giving me SO much anxiety

am I being a cry baby? a little. but my friends don't validate my feelings, let alone my family, so I thought I'd come here and dump this on you (a great coping mechanism)

thank you!

The first couple times you do it, it will feel really weird. You're going to stand there with the camera and think, what am I doing, I feel so stupid LOL but as you develop a routine, I think you'll find yourself getting used to it.

Social media is not easy. Some people like putting themselves out there. Some need clear distinction between what is online and what is offline. The only way to find your way to cope with it is to do it. You can't really predict how you will react until you start. Talking to a camera and knowing real people are watching (but not seeing them) will feel unnatural at first. Plus you have to pretend your device is a real person and interact with it like a real person. However, there is some level of comfort in knowing that when you turn it off, you are alone again. There's no real guilt tbh, compared to, say, leaving a party early and seeing the crowd watch you leave (awk...). You just turn off the cam and that's that.

Remember that this is your job. Be personable, but if you need a measure of distance or differentiation, that's okay too. Only film in a specific room / space, have a "uniform" (clothes to wear during work vs clothes too wear when you're off-duty), have an outline / notes on what you want to talk about so you give yourself some direction, etc. Feeling prepared is the key here. If there are some hiccups in the beginning, don't worry about it. No one succeeds perfectly on the first try. You'll probably feel that you have things to improve on even if it goes well. That's okay. You'll get better with practice.

It will feel awkward in the beginning, but you'll grow more comfortable with your audience over time. Having a routine will make it feel less weird. Slightly. XD It is a lot easier than in person socializing. If it becomes too much, step back and do something for your introverted self. Put the phone down and indulge in yourself. Time alone is important for introverts. A job has off time too, so don't feel ashamed to take it.

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

Hell is Other People

Admiring the heavy rock that was tailored perfectly to match your finger in silent awe you gleamed almost as brightly as the diamond which glittered underneath the moonlight.

You could hear the murmurs of your guests and the faint music of the orchestra playing in the background from afar as you stood in your private balcony to revere the ring that symbolised an emblem of eternal faith and affection. To be quite honest with yourself you hadn’t seen it coming, just earlier in the day you’re mulling over which dress to wear for the evening party that your partner scrupulously planned for since months, now that he had proposed to you in front of all your highly esteemed company it all made sense.

This was your engagement party.

Pleading with a resolute ‘yes’ for an answer, the colossal baroque hall erupted into an applause at the sight of the new happily engaged couple. Wiping a few tears of joy and sharing quick loving kisses from your partner he proudly showed you around where his parents eagerly took you in as part of the family. His Mother held you tight as if you were her very own and his Father kissed the back of your hand cordially in response. You’ve never felt so welcomed before, the warmth of having a real family was one that was foreign but comforting for you.

Taking a break from meeting all the guests he had personally invited to witness his ardent declaration of love, you stood alone in the cool breeze to process all the adrenaline in blissfully. To think, engaged during a peaceful warm season, you couldn’t believe you’re going to celebrate your anniversary every year on such a beautiful weather, making a special connotation to the word summer now.

Suddenly feeling an unwanted presence behind you, your face that was once graced with a contented smile had turned into a sour frown. You knew exactly who would turn the most happiest night of your life upside down, trailing after a bloody carpet and reigning chaos until the dawn rises.

The harbinger of death itself, Chrollo Lucilfer.

“So he’s finally proposed,” his dark timbre voice reverberated through the quiet night, startling such a tranquil silence. “I’d congratulate you on your engagement, but I can’t say I’m quite pleased.” There were hundreds of guards your partner employed on duty at the whole premise, guarding every entrance and exit making sure to keep trespassers at bay to keep this party perfect. Though with all the security money could by at your disposal, you weren’t completely surprised someone like him could get through easily, he is the head of the spider after all, capable of going in and out wherever he pleases.

“Chrollo,” you acknowdleged him with an air of indifference, turning around to the slightly to see him dressed in a fine black suit and tie, oddly appropriate for the occasion. “Where are the rest of the troupe? Couldn’t imagine you pulling off a heist on your own.” It was true, there were many treasures such as valuable paintings and ornaments all held in a considerable amount of monetary value scattered along the place, and even then, there were hidden assets stored deep underground that even you had just learned about, or perhaps he’s come for the family’s precious heirloom?

“No need to be so tense, it’s just me tonight.” He suddenly appeared before you, holding the hand in which the engagement ring was secured onto. Smiling bitterly at the glistening jewellery, he showed no movement or even an ounce of intention to take it away from you, rather he looked to be quite pensive as he studied it with a forlorn expression. “I don’t necessarily like to intrude, but it seems that I was uninvited by your charming fiancé.”

Taking your hand away from his cold hands without ever leaving your skeptical eyes off of his lackadaisical form, he reluctantly lets it go. “The feeling still stands.” Glaring at him with a scathing passion. “There is nothing for you to take here, nothing that you have not already seen before. Leave this people alone, they have nothing worthy of you to steal from.”

“You seem to be quite fond of them,” Chrollo commented motionlessly, closing the space even closer. “Perhaps even more than me.” A distasteful tone from him had you nearly shivering in your heels, however you needed to stand your ground you couldn’t let him ruin everything you worked so hard for.

“I’ve let you had your fun, released you from your ties, gave you time for yourself and now what do you do? Run into the arms of another man.” He trapped you in between his body and the stone carved balustrades. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced,” he whispered in bitter disbelief before placating himself quickly and placed a gentle hand upon your cheek. “My dearest friend, do I really stand no chance with you? Didn’t you once held me high in the standing of your heart?”

Your throat went completely dry as he bared his unbridled affections for you. “Once,” you answered truthfully. Years before in Meteor City you both shared the same vision, the same utopian perspective of your future filled with comfort through grim determination. However as time progressed he began to stray further away from what you both shared. You watched his avarice grow beyond expectancy, stepping over bodies to get what he desired without a vestige of remorse or empathy. Time turned him to be such a monster, an unrecognisable stranger who’s oddly keeping you alive by his side. “A long time ago, but now I barely remember the traces of where I held you in such position.”

Chrollo smiled sullenly at your response, as if he was expecting the daggers of your tongue into his heart. “You’re too cruel,” he detached the palm of his hand from your soft skin.

“I can’t help but ask after all this time.” He placed a hand against the railing, thoroughly interrogating you closely. “Was it fun, making me chase after you? Did you enjoy the idea of me grovelling for your attention, for you to spare me a simple kiss? I’ve circled the world for your heart and yet it never seems to be enough.”

He kept the bitter quirk on his lips as he continued, “like I’m never enough.”

Gripping onto the hard stone you willed yourself not to let your knees give out. Though he didn’t show it, you could see the raging storm of emotions in his eyes, the pain and betrayal he felt when you left and the sliver of intention to hurt you. You wanted to calm him down, pacify his anger like you did before when you were both younger. However you couldn’t reward his behaviour anymore, you couldn’t be on the same side where history would echo the time in which evil was left untamed

“What is it he has that I couldn’t give you?” He spoke so softly you could feel the sincerity in his words.

“It’s not something you could give me,” your tone as careful and gentle as ever around the capricious being. Unfortunately that set every fibre of his being on fire.

“Do you even love him?”

You took his challenging words as a personal affront to your integrity. “I find it hard to see if that is any of your concern.”

“He’s nearly twice your age.” Chrollo staunchly dismissed. “I see the way you look at me, you look at me with such anger in your eyes, like I’m the lowest being to walk on earth; a vermin with no moral compass.” The warm night air suddenly turned frigid at the sound of his strained voice that was holding back such malice. “And you’re right, but what differentiates me from you is that at least I don’t lie to myself.”

“And the worst thing is that you don’t even seem to realise it do you? You willingly use others for your own interests and discard them once you no longer had use of them. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you and I both know your true nature. You’re exactly like me- in fact you might even be worse than me, robbing people blind. I do my work in the dark but you do yours in broad daylight,” Chrollo stated. “I’m not the only monster here.”

“Don’t talk to me of hypocrisy when you value those philosophical books so much,” you angrily countered, noting how much time he spent on the ideas and theories discussed in heavy literatures such as the Leviathan. “Never have I met someone so ridiculously obsessed with Western perspectives on rules and regulations and yet completely disregards them in practice.”

“But isn’t that what’s so appealing about it? Of course I don’t take these words as gospel when there’s so many critiques to each theory. It’s too nuanced and complex to ever rightfully regulate civil society that who could determine what I’m doing is immoral? For Hobbes I’m merely exercising my right of nature as it is ‘the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will for himself, for the preservation of his own nature,’ you remember right?” He quipped, reminding you of the times he shared his esoteric books with you, engaging in meaningful and intellectual thoughts until the candle burned out.

“I have not consented to the laws of nature and therefore I have yet to surrender my natural rights. Thus the sovereign is illegitimate to me and I’m under no obligation of the state as I have not entered in any form of contract bound by the will and rule of the sovereign. I’m not bound to any laws of this land for I do not conform to the will of others but myself. Plato’s Crito would further support his argument on the laws of consent.”

Scoffing at his misconstrued interpretation you vacantly refuted. “Hobbes also said that if there is reasonable hope in preserving peace to seek and follow it.”

“However I may think it not necessary or the best for my life to be best preserved then I may seek and use all helps and advantages of war.”

“Nevertheless all that is futile for his argument remains that the design of men is the willingness to put restraint upon themselves for a more contented life thereby. We should ultimately consent for the second law of nature requires that we should covenant for peace if others are willing.”

“If others are willing.” He repeated and stressed out the first word. “Do you remember where we lived? No person there would opt for peace, it’s every man for themselves. It is what he hypothetically calls the state of nature, a horrible nasty, brutish and short life, except it’s real. Meteor City is a lawless land and as he states that no contract could be formed in the state of nature. Thus this paradox leaves us in a perpetual natural state of mankind; war.”

“You know there’s more to philosophy than just the Leviathan, Rousseau’s Social Contract and Locke’s Second Treatise of Civil Government has a lot to say on your so called ‘freedom’. There is no advantage to stay in the state of nature, the natural progress of humanity is the establishment of a common political authority for the sake of improving our way of life.”

“Actually Locke and Hobbes states that the state diminishes our sense of freedom but is justified in doing so, by no means did they implied our freedom would be retained, and that, is what I don’t find an improvement.”

“Rousseau would disagree with you, the state is a necessary condition of our freedom for the sovereign is the construction of all through the general will and so is directly exercised by the citizenry. Therefore, this eliminates the tension between political authority and individual freedom.” You sighed, “Chrollo even if you wanted to retain individual autonomy over yourself you’d surely remember Mill’s first sentence on the harm principle, ‘the only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to attain it.’ In other words, as long as you don’t harm others you can do whatever the fuck you like, but you seem to struggle with that concept of freedom don’t you?”

He suddenly chuckled lightly at your remark. “How are you so quick to mark me wrong as if I had forgotten your favourite book?” You suddenly shifted uncomfortably on your feet as he smirked amusingly at your cornered form. “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the revered Mary Wollstonecraft, we would often read her passages for hours didn’t we? A Vindication of the Rights of a Woman, well, I guess we’re both hypocrites here.”

“What was her argument? That women were rendered weak, lacked the use of reason, had no special moral value?” He droned on and looked afar as if he was in deep thought before returning his sharp gaze to yours. “You had a lot to say about the sexist social arrangements in today’s society, you argued that women are deprived of their natural rights to acquire virtue through the use reason. How Wollstonecraft would be so disappointed if she could see you right now, the most passionate proponent of her work devoting her energies in pleasing and making herself attractive to men.”

“Stop it.” You hissed as he jabbed at your pride, mocking your own words of the past to further humiliate your contradicting present.

“What were the words you used to quote to me? ‘Have women so little in ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure and render themselves conspicuous by practicing the virtues which signify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the carress of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.’ Aren’t you becoming the women she is scathing about?”

“What’s so wrong with pleasure? Wanting to be taken care of? The want and human need for companionship and love is not one to be jeered at. Might it just even cross your mind that I chose this life instead of ‘building my faculty.’ Those texts described the social conditioning of women back in the eighteen hundreds, women have more options now and are more than capable to choose. Times have changed.”

“Have they?” Chrollo hummed. “Is the pleasure that you insist on promoting for you, or for him?” He rubbed the silky garment of your dress impassively. “Don’t you wish to be more than a pretty ornament? To have purpose and participate in the natural rights of mankind? ‘Virtue, says reason, must be acquired by rough toils, and useful struggles with worldly cares.’ Sure you are provided with goods and raiment but liberty and virtue are given in exchange. You could build your character by the sense of struggle of living-“

“How can you call that living?!” You exploded abruptly, pausing for a moment to realise that you were shaking all over as you stood in your designer heels before him with glassy eyes. “What we did- to those people, those families, it was never enough for you. I may be what I despised in my youth but I’m better off being an indulgence for others rather than taking account for mass genocide; for what I lack in virtue I make up for my own compassion.”

“How kindly of you,” he nodded absently. “Then perhaps we should test it. Referring back on your comment on Mill’s harm principle, you must know then that the cause of evil not only takes account of a person’s action but also their inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable for the injury.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let’s hypothesise that I would come back on your white wedding day and that I would kill everyone present during the reception, by learning this information, you then would be held responsible for each of their death.” You griped your hand so hard you’re sure that you’ve left specks of bloody crescent moon marks on the palm of your hands.

“I have no obligation of duty towards you, therefore the harm principle does not apply to me for I am not responsible or related for your actions.” You countered at his allusion to the other-regarding actions where a special role of obligation is placed within the liberty principle.

“No unfortunately you’re not,” he agreed. “But him, would you not protect him at all costs? Surely as your soon to be life long partner you would do whatever it takes to promote his health and well-being. If you would simply come back to me before the day of wedding, denounce your engagement and reinstate your affiliation and loyalty towards the troupe everybody gets their happily ever after.” He finally took a step back. “In failing to meet our obligations to others we are actually harming them.”

“I’m tired of your philosophical rhapsodies, if you were to kill others or even yourself I would not hold myself accountable so I suggest you’d best return to whatever matters you currently have and leave us alone.” You’ve grown anxious and wary of the dangerous connotation of his words and with the way he was impishly grinning at you suggested that he saw right through your bluff.

“Its getting late, you should return to your awaiting fiancé before he realises you’ve been gone for too long,” looking back down at the sight of pretty swirls of dresses on the ballroom quietly dwindling down as the night grew longer. “It’s reassuring to see that you haven’t changed at all, I missed our philosophical prattle.”

“I can hardly say the same, discussing Western philosophers on an engagement party is certainly not in the least enlightening, I suggest you turn to the East for matters such as these.”

Chrollo gave a half-suppressed laugh and an amused smile, one that was rare and sincere in which held no trace of malice or cruelty. “Before I forget to tell you, you look beautiful.” You didn’t let your hardened expression change when his comment took you by surprise as he slowly backed away from you and into the shadows.

You heard your name being called out by Thomas where he sighed in relief and ran towards you in a light jog before taking you into his arms. “So this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he playfully chastised with a turn on his lips. He led you back inside the bright chandelier lit hall to bid your guests farewell for the night, however, you couldn’t help but glance back from your shoulders to see that Chrollo had disappeared.

Though his presence was now absent, his words still rang loudly inside your head. His confrontation of your nature, how the spotlight is too blinding for someone like you and how it’s just a matter of time you would run into the dark once more with your back up against the wall and tangled up in his web seem to be conveyed as a confident prediction rather than insults to your moral character.

Chrollo wasn’t here to steal anything, not even you, he wanted you to come to him on your own accord even if he had to force pieces to make you submit to his will. However, his appearance tonight also wasn’t meant for mere formalities, in fact he made his purpose and intention clear when he first spoke of the day you would finally be wed.

It was a warning.

#this is gonna be the last fic for a while :(#im gonna fuck off for a few weeks since my break is over #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter #yandere #genei ryoudan #yandere genei ryoudan #Phantom Troupe #yandere phantom troupe

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ships-bynoa · 3 years

Text

The Titans are almost back, bitches. aka 3x06

Guys, literally every time the titans are together-or even paired up-the episode gets ten times better, but in 6 episodes there is simply not enough Kory and Gar. I can easily forget that when I’m basking in the episode they are in, especially when they’re giving us family dynamics.

Kory:

“You’re not mad that I left. You’re mad I came back.” Kory’s face tells us Blackfire is right on the money, and who would know her better than her sister?

So, Kory, oh boy. Our girl is on edge. She is slowly unraveling and is super vulnerable and raw with Kom around and little sister is going to exploit it and her guilt, which I think she’s carrying a lot of. So far their dynamic has been fascinating because there’s so much to read between them and so many accusations being flung back and forth, from both. From Kory; you sense guilt and even contempt and from Kom there’s envy and resentment, but also there’s a sense of idealization for her older sister, too, which of course, with younger siblings, there always is an element of that. And as an older sibling, there is always an unspoken and sometimes spoken responsibility placed on them for their younger siblings. Parents often don’t realize it, but they can create a lot of tension within siblingships by assigning roles.

They remember home and family very differently, which is often the case, too. Kom was often thrown in the pit and to that, Kory attributes her sister’s constant rebellion as the reason, and yet, Kory herself was a bit of a rule breaker, sleeping with her guard, Fiddei.

Kory was being suffocated by the laws and customs of her home planet; one could say she rebelled by going on a mission, to escape her duties. Home did neither of them any favors because while one rebelled because she did not fit in, the one who did fit in was dying inside, surrounded by little robots and becoming one herself. Being told what to eat, wear and who to love or be friends with is yikes.

I was thinking Kom began her game of manipulation in the bunker, but she really started before that when she sent Fiddei to bring Kory home when she probably intended to kill him all along. After all she would’ve castrated him if she’d had the chance to for sleeping with Kory in the first place. Shortly after Fiddei’s death, Kory flamed out. No powers. Emotionally wrung out from the news her family was dead and now the culprit is here. These two know each other very well and know exactly how to get underneath each other’s skin. Right now Kom is getting underneath Kory’s and our girl is losing patience fast.

I’m wondering when exactly Dick will tune into Kory’s anxiety-ridden state and step in to support.

Ultimately, I just want to see what truly happened to the girls on their planet and how we have the versions we have now. Like, Kory said to Rachel, “No one is born good or bad, we are defined by our choices.” I get the feeling Kory has given Kom so many chances to make a different choice and has become disillusioned, meanwhile Kom believes nothing she does will give her the respect she feels she deserves anyway, so she may as well blow shit up, figuratively and literally. At least then she’ll have Kory’s attention.

Gar:

Gar losing it on Dick was so cathartic and yet he could’ve gone much further, considering Dick abandoned him last season to go jail and hallucinate Bruce. It ultimately led to Gar (and Conner) being kidnapped and experimented on by Mercy. It’s actually all the adults fault this happened, but as the leader promoting his family everywhere he goes, he needs to keep his eye on the ball. He would know if he spent five minutes at home with them that Gar is struggling. Last season Gar was #OperationSaveTitans and this season he’s #ThisFamilyIsDying. He’s doing what the adults should be doing, or at least leading the charge on it. He’s the glue, but who will hold him together?

He’s carrying too much emotional responsibility and Dick’s dismissal, because he is fully locked into Gotham and being Batman, makes me mad. Get your head in the game, Grayson. Gotham is going to eat your family while you retread the nostalgic steps of your past.

We all know Dick’s not good at expressing himself emotionally, though he’s usually forced to express something when talking to or being confronted by Kory, so I was proud of him for giving Gar the floor to speak. I just wish Gar spoke about himself, but then again, he needs more time and consistent offers to be heard. I’m happy Dick followed up the conversation up with a bonding/training session. There was definitely pride in Dick’s face because Gar really has come a long way in this group, but he needs MORE SCREEN TIME. I’d like to see the two of them out in the field together the way we’ve seen Kory this season with Gar and Conner.

I wonder if Gar losing control is the start of all his trauma bubbling up to the surface, will being in Gotham, hunting down a friend be too much?

As a side, has the CGI tiger face gotten worse?

Kom (and Conner):

First thing’s first, what music are we thinking Kom listens to? Probably the kind of music she can break your tailbone to, like, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole and Jay Z, or Prince, Jimmy Hendrix, Stevie Nicks and Led Zeppelin? Rihanna?

Kom is absolutely a villain this season and if she isn’t, what a waste that’ll be. A mastermind at mind games (see, her picking up the chess piece), who is going to drum up Kory’s paranoia and anxiety around her being there. Trying to kill her suspicion by guilt tripping her while simultaneously being a do good-er to the group, feigning interest in helping the Titans to earn her way in, a tip from our boy, Conner.

She says she wants acceptance and I believe that’s absolutely true, but she doesn’t know how to get that without using power, so she’ll continue to covet acceptance through and with power because according to Kory, she’s always been a climber. Add to that, being born the cursed child and the only royal member born without the gift of fire, something that differentiates them from the common folk, being too frail to participate in the same games as Kory, having a speech therapist be her only friend while being the object of ridicule and you have a villain origin story nicely set up.

I really enjoyed Conner and Kom’s exchange. The boy lit up when he spoke about seeing his family happy and it made me light up. He’s so genuine and has a big heart and Kom is going to take advantage of it, that’s not to say she won’t develop real feelings for him, but she can like him and still use him.

Conner’s “you have to earn your way into the family,” is perhaps an internal and personal struggle he has from sharing blood with Luthor. I think it may come from an insecure place because he was made a titan as soon as he woke up and no one questioned it, but as he’s only half of superman, he’s constantly trying to prove his usefulness for good, which losing Hank has rocked, leaving him vulnerable to Kom’s recognition for his otherness. Their otherness.

She gave us insight into her mind, but also she has likely seized an opportunity to use the vulnerability against Conner and to her favor by making him her kindred. Outcasts. Will she gain influence over him? He’s still young and learning, and trusting, too.

Her interest in him felt layered, ignoring the ugly customs of sex servants, she was also observing Kory’s relationships and ranking them in her sister’s life. Her being able to determine who may have Kory’s interest (which Kory gave away with her vulnerable display of worry over Dick’s welfare in front of Kom) will surely come into play at some point, right? After all, Kom did kill Kory’s last lover/royal guard. This may be me projecting. LOL.

Romantically, I’m waiting to see how they play it before I decide if I like it or not, but so far, they have a nice chemistry. Friendly.

Dick (and Barbara) :

What a lovable dumb ass.

I was so happy Kory lost it on him and called him on his lone ranger shit, at least when it’s her, even when he’s being an idiot, he’s still listening. “Let’s go.” and I thought it was hilarious that he tried explaining himself, but when Gar called him out, he got all huffy with, “Excuse me, young man.”

Gar asking Kory not to have words with Barbara over Dick getting shot was so funny because Dick’s face seemed to ask the same when she asked how it happened. We love a protective Kory. I’ll be looking at him when it’s his turn to reciprocate.

I don’t like him dismissing their concerns about his personal safety and how it affects them, it’s like he’s learned nothing after running off alone to battle Trigon, or rather has unlearned his lessons of S2. I’d like to see some more permanent emotional growth from him by this season’s end. In his current state, he’s not an exuding leader. He can’t be when he’s still wrapped up in Bruce and all things Gotham. He’s not tuned into Kory’s anxiety, or Conner’s grief and insecurity, or Gar’s emotional burden.

He’s started making it up to him, but he has much to do in taking Gar’s concerns and emotional needs seriously.

I’m not even going to try and work out the timeline between Barbara and Dick and Dick and old Titans in San Fran and S1. But it doesn’t bode well that Dick’s dream with Barbara ended in a nightmare.

I wish they’d never did the whole Dick and Dawn relationship in S2 because they’re basically repeating some of the beats in showing us how they don’t work as a couple, only his relationship with Babs makes a lot more sense even though I don't care. Dick has unfinished business with that relationship, Bruce and Gotham and I can only hope he’s wrapped it up for good by this season’s end. I want to see relaxed, smiling and happy Dick in THE PRESENT. I still Babs will be the one to notice and point out Dick's feelings for Kory.

Barbara (outside of Dick) is being downplayed a little, no? Dismissing Dick’s suspicions about Jason when he arrived, showing no knowledge of Jason’s visits to Crane and then taking the bait and moving Crane after he got a light beat down. A commissioner who was also a very capable vigilante is tricked by a recording and goes to meet “Bruce” on her own. I really enjoyed that she could hold her own and the fight scene was really good, but it was a bit baffling that she fell for that ruse. So far, she’s not entirely good at her job.

Dick’s a distraction in his own right and her feelings clearly get in the way, which is why she keeps asking him to leave the precinct and Gotham; because she’s pining a fantasy and he’s ruining it. Lastly, I really like the way Savannah plays Barbara.

Why’d they do that to Tim?? :(

Overall, it was a better episode and I enjoyed it more than latter episodes, but they’re not quite there yet for me. I’m still waiting for Team Titans.

#dc titans #kory anders #koriand'r #stafire #gar logan #beast boy #dick grayson #nightwing #conner kent #superboy #noa posts

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gaming-universe · 3 years

Text

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART TWO-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar

|PART ONE|

For four months, you remained in the Solovetsky Islands, recovering and maintaining a normal life.

The old man that had rescued you, Viktor, welcomed you into his home, and offered for you to stay for as long as you needed. He did everything in his power to make you feel welcome, especially after you had opened up to him. You told Viktor everything; the trauma you experienced in regards to the brainwashing, the betrayal you felt as Adler turned, weapon raised, and fired that single shot which landed you here, your sleepless nights consumed by nightmares of memories you thought were long gone.

Everyone thought you were dead, and maybe that was for the best. You could start anew, build a new life for yourself, live in peace. But of course, there had to be one last cruel twist of fate.

You were sitting in the living room, reading a small novel when Viktor hurried through the door, his face pale and eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” You mused, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer. Viktor swallowed thickly, approaching with stumbling steps. He sat down beside you, his hands trembling as he placed them gently atop his knees. “I was returning from my trawler when I heard some men at the docks talking...” He began, now turning to face you with a shaky sigh “some of them were saying that men, Russians, were returning to the ruins atop the clifface. With diggers, with machinery to rebuild the base you gave your life to destroy”.

You froze, the book in your grasp falling to the floor as your grip loosened. They were returning here? What on earth could Perseus be returning to the Solovetsky Islands for? If they were rebuilding that base, then that means that there must have been something worth saving up there.

But what could you have missed the first time?

You raised a questioning eyebrow at Viktor. “Do you still have my gear?” You asked lowly, the hidden anger within you slowly beginning to bubble. The old man nodded “It is in the attic, well hidden from prying eyes-”

“Good, I’m going to investigate those ruins tonight”.

“No, you cannot! If you are caught-”

“That won’t happen, I promise” You reasoned, standing up abrubtly before wincing lightly. Viktor stood to block your path “You are still injured. I will not allow you to do this”.

You groaned “If Perseus has returned to that base, then I need to put a stop to this before it even begins...” You spoke informatively “I can’t let him escape again. I might not know why exactly, but I can’t let him leave those ruins alive”.

With a long winded sigh, Viktor stepped to the side whilst giving you a pointed look. He said nothing as you passed him, beginning to make your way to the attic with a confident stride. Investigating that base was your best chance of figuring out exactly what was going on around this small town. You began to notice some subtle changes a few weeks ago. The people were growing scared, they were more cautious, and more suspicous of each other as days went by.

After clambering through the small manhole into the attic, you found your gear lying atop an old carboard box, neatly folded and out of sight. As you extended a hand out towards the pile of clothes, your hand faltered. Your eyes travelled to the round tear in the dark grey fabric, surrounded by a large red stain that refused to detatch itself from the fibres. As if in response, a phantom pain coursed through your chest, the ugly scar beneath your jacket aching with every awkward twist and turn of your arm, every deep breath you took. A reminder of the pain that had been inflicted.

Swallowing your fear, and suppressing the vivid flashes of you and Adler on that clifface, you changed into those old clothes. With no weapons, you would have to approach with stealth. They wouldn’t take too kindly to anyone breaking in to their new playground, especially if it were one who had been the cause of the base’s destruction the first time around. After making your way back downstairs, Viktor stood by the door. “You cannot expect to go in there unarmed...” He began, removing one hand from within his jacket to reveal a pistol, with a suppressor attatched to the end. “My son’s. It was his when he was with the Russian Army four years ago. He left it behind when he moved away with his wife. It would be more use to you than just sitting in a draw beneath old documents”.

Carefully, you took the weapon from his fragile hands, almost recoiling at the familiarity of the cool metal in your palm. You nodded gratefully, taking the firearm and securing it in the holster attatched to your right leg. Before you could leave, Viktor gently grabbed your upper arm, squeezing it tightly in emphasis to his words. “Be careful, and come back alive”.

With a light chuckle, you nodded your promise before walking past him and through the front door. You coudln’t help but feel incredibly nervous. There were two ways this night could go, and you hoped to god that everything worked in your favour.

Studying the ruins of the base atop your perch of a pile of rubble, everything seemed to be running smoothly so far.

You had watched several Soviet officers disappear through a single armoured door, only to return hours later. You assumed that that door lead either to an already rebuilt section of the base, which was heavily fortified and filled with armed guards at every turn. Or, that door lead down to subterrainean levels that hadn’t been affected in the air raid four months ago.

There was only one way to find out.

Checking that the coast was clear, you descended from your perch and kept close to the shadows. Taking the long way around was certainly not what you wanted to do, although you definitely did avoid several close calls. You only had trouble with two guards, who you quickly dispatched before continuing on your way.

You paused just out of reach of the doorway, crouching low to avoid the bright searchlight illuminating the grounds. Steadying your breath, you waited for the right moment to slip through the metal door without being detected. The door itself hadn’t suffered much damage, merely sustaining a few scratches and scorch marks against the olive green paint. When the search light moved on a second time, you took that as your opportunity to slip through, closing the door behind you with a small thunk, whilst completely unaware of the several pairs of prying eyes that watched your form in awe and disbelief.

After managing to sneak by several other Soviet soldiers, you found yourself descending a staircase that kept going down, down down. There was almost no end in sight, but you sighed with relief when a faint white light illuminated the end of the staircase. Upon entering the room, you almost swore that your heart leapt into your throat. There were several rows of computer terminals, but there was only one that was operational. As you approached, the screen flickered with two words. Two words that triggered a flicker of memory from your time with Perseus.

You were back in that bunker, the bunker with the red door. It was just you and Perseus, the rest of the room was dim, almost black and white. Perseus turned to face you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he placed a file onto the table before you. “I only trust you with this information. You are my most valuable asset, and I trust that you will keep this a secret from the rest of the table...”

You nodded wordlessly as Perseus continued, “If Operation Greenlight is to fail, I have a failsafe which I intend to initiate, Operation Hydra-”

You found yourself stumbling backward, breathing heavily as you tried to make sense of what you had just witnessed. Operation Hydra? Perseus’ most valuable asset? None of this was making sense.

You heard the heavy footsteps before you turned, perhaps a little too late. The end of an assult rifle collided with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the floor as your vision danced with violent stars. Several angry Russian voices echoed throughout the bunker, all of them shouting for someone to retrieve a General Nikiforov. Ungracefully, you staggered to your feet and lashed out at the closest soldier, tackling him to the ground with a loud cry of effort. After managing to wrestle the rifle from his grasp, and after knocking the soldier unconscious, you took cover behind one of the computer terminals as the remaining four soldiers opened fire.

You cursed under your breath, readying your newfound weapon to fire when several more shots echoed from within the bunker, this time, resonating from the bottom of the stairwell on the opposite side of the room. It soon became hard to differentiate between who exactly was shouting. There were multiple accents all at once, making it near impossible to find out just who was shooting at who.

Peaking around the corner of the terminal, you sighed internally with relief as the three soldiers were preoccupied with dealing with whoever was on the other side of the room. Wait, three?

You had no time to react as the fourth soldier appeared to your left in your peripheral vision. You released a small cry of pain as the Russian grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging you out from behind your cover before letting go, and delivering a swift kick to your abdomen. You managed to avoid his attack, rolling away before quickly standing to your feet.

The soldier charged, swining his arms wildly. There was no rationality to his attacks. Making him vulnerable, and completely predicatble. You caught his arm mid-swing, twisting it to the side harshly before delivering a hard kick to the soldier’s stomach. With a pointed grunt, he stumbled backward against one of the terminals, giving you enough time to advance. But the soldier was ready, and produced a large combat knife from within his vest.

You hissed as the knife cut your forearm, recoiling away from the soldier as blood began to stain the sleeve of your shirt. Believeing that he had the upper hand, the soldier advanced, swiping in every which direction in an attempt to land a critical hit. Doging and weaving, you swore as your back collided with a seperate terminal, effectively trapping you between the desk and the soldier edging closer towards you. Shit, this was exactly what he wanted.

You were practically bent over backwards across the terminal, your back straining at the awkward angle as you caught the soldier’s hand in it’s downward strike, leaving the knife mere inches from your throat. The soldier was leaning on top of you, putting all his weight into trying to accomplish the menial task of ending your life. You could feel the knife’s tip pressing against your skin, the cool metal still flecked with traces of your blood a stark contrast to the warmth of your body. The knife drew blood as you tried desperately to push back with whatever remaining strength you had left. You didn’t know how much longer you could last.

Suddenly out of nowhere, the soldier was hauled away from your form and violently shoved to the ground by a figure clad in black. You forced your self to sit upright, one hand caressing your neck whilst the other was braced firmly against the desk. Taking a few deep breaths, you watched on as the figure kicked the knife from the soldier’s hand, before removing a pistol from his side and actively shooting the soldier in the chest, the single shot echoing loudly throughout the now silent bunker.

Your heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard, as you tried to regain your composure, as you tried to calm down. But four months of recovery certainly hadn’t prepared you for this. Your entire being became rigid with fear as the figure before you turned, your eyes widened with dread, you could have sworn that you had stopped breathing altogether. Those blue eyes beneath those goddamned glasses, the scars across his face...

Two other figures appeared behind him, their eyes wide, their faces pale. As if they were looking at a ghost.

“No fucking way...” Woods breathed, his eyes not once leaving your form as his grip on his rifle slackened. Mason nodded wordlessly, he too in a completely dumbfounded state. Your fear soon turned to immense anger, as Adler stepped towards you, his expression unreadable. “Bell” was all he said, nodding slightly in aknowledgement. As if what happened four months ago never took place at all.

A heavy tension filled the bunker, becoming broken when your clenched fist collided with Adler’s jaw, a sharp but impressive ‘crack’ echoing throught the room.

Tag List (Tags with lines aren’t working as of yet): @pookolokon @travelllar @basicwhiteasian @shellshockedbell @inteligentecat @staryozora @quietblogs-2-rd @lovinggooppalacebanana @ktdragonborn

#russell adler x reader #russell adler #russell adler imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Duplicity.

Word Count: 2.6k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Paring: Yandere!Hanako/Reader & Yandere!Tsukasa/Reader.

Synopsis: The afterlife is very, very lonely. It effects come spirits more than others, but Hanako’s gotten close to so many humans, and he’s been left so many times... You can hardly blame him for wanting to be selfish. You can’t fault Tsukasa for wanting to keep his favorite toy close, either.

TW: Death, Graphic Violence, Blood, Imprisonment (via Ghost Mechanics), and Emotional Manipulation.

No one should have to watch themselves die.

You guess you didn’t, really. Or, you did, but you didn’t watch as closely as you could have. You’d like to say that you faced your end bravely, that you were cunning and quick and did your damnedest to make sure your assailant left your encounter only slightly better off than you did, but you’d never been one for self-flattery. As soon as you realized you couldn’t escape, as soon as you’d caught the glimpse of something glinting in the dim, flickering school lights and managed to put a name to it, you’d clenched your eyes shut, threw your arms over your face, and begged for mercy. You could remember the pain, if you wanted to, the intensity of it, but you don’t try to. You could recall the feeling of your own blood flowing over your fingertips, but you’d really rather not. You know that, one moment, there was something, and the next, there was nothing. Black, frigid nothing. For a few seconds, you couldn’t think of anything worse than that nothingness.

And then, there was something, and you realized there were things much, much worse than nothing.

You think you would’ve found a way to stay dead, if you knew he’d been the one to kill you.

He’s still bent over your unmoving body when you reform, on your knees and beside yourself, your skin translucent and your chest so much more hollow than it used to be. You let yourself linger on the sensation for a moment or two, attempting to inhale and exhale before realizing how odd it feels to breathe when you don’t have to. You’re still caught up in the change when your attention drifts, first to the dark stains littered across the tile floor, obscured by the darkness, and then to… yourself. What used to be you. You, but not you.

Dead you, with a familiar knife still rooted in its diaphragm, and a familiar boy straddling its waist.

It’s disorienting. He isn’t panting, but his chest is heaving in silent, uneven sobs and his eyes closed as tightly as yours had been. With one hand clamped around the hilt of his knife and the other pressed to the ground, supporting his nonexistent weight, he draws his weapon out, then with only a slight hesitation, he plunges it back in. Out, then in, again and again and again until something breaks underneath him, your ribs caving in with a sickening crack. His eyes fly open, his shoulders tensing as he scrambles backward, but it’s a short-lived panic. All it takes is a quick scan over the corpse underneath him, and with an exhausted sigh, he drops his knife, relieved that you’re as dead as he is.

You’re not sure whether the cold feeling that runs through you is betrayal or disgust, but you don’t have much time to decide. A scream hitches in your throat, emerging in a stifled croak, and Hanako turns towards you, all wide-eyes and parted lips, as if he’d gotten caught rummaging through Yashiro’s back or playing with Kou’s staff, rather than killing his friend. He has time to lift a hand, to open his mouth, but if he says anything, you can’t make it out. Not over the blood suddenly rushing past your ears.

“I don’t…” You mumble, taking a step forward, then one back. You drive your nails into your palms, hoping to ground yourself, but it hurts less than you thought it would. You’re not sure whether that’s a reason to be relieved, or just a new source of distress. “Hanako, I don’t… Why are you--”

“It’s not what it looks like.” The words are hasty, spouted in such a rush, you can hardly differentiate one from the other. He wasn’t expecting this part. “I mean, it is, but you don’t understand. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t want to respond.

You turn on your heel, and you run. As fast as you can and as far as you can, and thankfully, Hanako doesn’t try to follow.

Surprisingly, it’s Tsukasa that comes to find you first.

Holing yourself up in a storage closet wasn’t your smartest decision, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You were scared, you are scared, but it was the only thing you could think to do, after realizing you wouldn’t be able to leave Kamome. You’re still hugging your knees, fruitlessly attempting to warm yourself up when he walks through the closed door. You’re not sure where you ran to in your desperation, but it’s not like he has a reason to move secretively, nor does Hanako have a reason to stop him from doing so. You’d promised to visit sometime after your graduation, sometime during a break, as stupid as that turned out to be. The staff wouldn’t return for weeks, let alone the students.

Disturbingly, the thought crosses your mind that your body might sit there, undiscovered and decaying, until the first day of the next school year. In an effort to distract yourself, you decide you would rather face Tsukasa than linger on it.

When you bother to look up, he’s hovering in front of you, his eyes as wide as his brother’s and twice as unsuspecting. You attempt to melt into the wall, and then, for fear that you actually might, you stop. “What do you want?”

“To see you,” He answers, no trace of malice or discontent audible in his voice. He’s uncomfortably close, the distance between the two of you minimal, but you're glad for the space. You’ve seen him be far less courteous to spirits he’s known for a shorter time, spirits he’s far more fond of. “I don’t think Amane was as gentle as he could’ve been. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He thinks, for a moment, before he adds a brief explanation. “It’d be boring if you were already broken.”

“Like you’d care,” You mumble, letting your gaze fall to a dusty corner someplace behind him. “I’m dead, aren’t I? That probably goes with at least one of your schemes.”

At that, he grins. “My brother and I worked together,” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck as he floats upward absent-mindedly, his head bowing and his cheeks turning pink with the barest hints of a flush. “He was really stubborn about it, though. He didn’t come to me until the very last minute, and even then, he was so specific about the rumor he let me spread for you…” Tsukasa laughs, the noise high-pitched and half-suppressed, more of a giggle than anything. “You should’ve heard some of the stories we were going to try! Sakura made it look so easy, but--”

“A rumor?” The question slips out before you can stop it, the subject instilling as curiosity as revulsion. “What do you mean you ‘spread a rumor’ for me?”

“Oh, that was my part!” There’s a clap, a roll that left him lying on his back, and despite yourself, you begin to uncurl. Just enough to make him more excited than he had to be. “I was supposed to set things up, give you a rumor to slide into, my big brother just had to get you here! I did all the boring, business stuff, and Amane got to do the dirty work.” Tsukasa lets out a disappointed huff, pursing his lips. “He was so mean about it, too. He said he didn’t trust me to be responsible, whenever that means.”

It’s a numb sense of shock, a dull wave of luke-warm information you only barely don’t know. Hanako’s betrayal makes sense. You don’t like it, nor does your awareness do anything to soften the blow, but it does. He’s a spirit, someone who did something awful enough to warrant an afterlife full of duty and obligation. You feel stupid for not realizing he would be willing to do something awful to you, too.

When you speak, you nearly forget he’s meant to respond. You want to hear yourself talk more than you want to hear his grim clarifications about a story you have a feeling you don’t want to know. “How’d you get him to do it?” You ask, already fearing his response. “Hanako didn’t seem… I can’t believe he would--”

“I didn’t have to,” He chirps, cutting in without hesitation. He really doesn’t have to.

The way his smile widens is enough to silence you on its own.

“It was all Amane’s idea.”

When Hanako finally comes to you, it’s only because you come to him, first.

Or, you leave your closet, at least. It seems pointless to avoid him, even if your legs start to shake before you can make it to the girl’s bathroom, the ghost of a heartbeat racing in your chest and your vision going dark at the edges without warning. It’s a terrible feeling. Everything is duller, when nothing’s life or death. Sensations are fainter, the world around you seems dimmer, and no matter what you do, you can’t seem to get warm. Although, you aren’t sure if that’s because you're dead, or because you’re trapped in a dark, dank school building you’ve never seen past sunset. In the end, you give up about a hundred steps away from Hanako’s domain, you back against a wall and your legs crossed underneath you.

It’s a pathetic position, but you’re pathetic.

No one with any dignity would crawl back to their murderer so quickly.

He’s kind enough not to say anything. There’s no friendly greeting, no callback to a better time in your companionship, just a deep breath and a solid thud as he falls against the cheap, plaster wall, then another when he hits the ground. You try to resist the temptation to look at him, to see if he’s just as miserable as you are, but it’s a futile thing to fight.

That doesn’t mean you don’t regret it, though. He’s… different, for lack of a better way to put it, less lively than he usually is. All troubled eyes and wilting posture and thoughtful glances in your direction that get taken back so quickly, you have to wonder if he’d ever offered them in the first place. He’s sad, obviously, he’s guilty, but there’s something missing. Something absent from his display.

It dawns on you abruptly. As unwelcome as it is unpleasant.

He’s guilty, but he isn’t sorry.

He doesn’t regret what he did to you, he’s just disappointed he got caught.

Still, he’s the first to speak, his voice listless and downtrodden. Like a child who’s just been put in time-out and forced to apologize. “I’m sorry. I calculated wrong, I… I thought it would take more time. I didn’t think you’d have to see anything.” He pauses, something troubled flitting over his expression. You might’ve missed it, if you hadn’t known him so well. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I didn’t want to--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Your tone’s far from authoritative, the declaration more sober than strict, but Hanako falls silent all the same, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. Not that there was much to think over. “I don’t think I really care about that. I’m angry, I’m absolutely angry, but… There’s nothing you can say to fix this.” You feel him bristle next to you, folding into himself as his eyes narrow at nothing in particular, but if he’s going to interrupt you, he doesn’t make a move to do so. His acceptance is a small relief, but it’s a relief all the same. “I just want to know why. We’re friends, Hanako. If I did something to make you think I deserved this, all you had to do was tell me. I would’ve transferred to another school, or stopped bothering you. I could’ve left. You didn’t have to--”

“I did.”

You snap towards him, moving to speak, but Hanako reaches out before you can, his fist claiming around your sleeve. It’s a sickeningly childish gesture, a sickeningly desperate one, meant to stop you from leaving before the thought could even cross your mind. “I want you to stay. It’s not--” His voice cracks, his whole body tensing. “I couldn’t just sit back and watch you leave. I couldn’t watch you move on, not after Yashiro took the first chance she had to run. I didn’t want to. I’m selfish, and I didn’t want to.”

For a second, you’re too stunned to speak. You’re confused, you’re disoriented, that crushing, oppressive dizziness only getting worse every time you try to associate the scared kid sitting at your side with the same boy who ended your life. “I would’ve come back,” You stammer, grasping for something to say, a sentiment that would comfort you as much as it soothed him. “I graduated, but I wasn’t going to leave you alone. Yashiro visits every time she gets the chance, I would’ve done the same thing. You know that, Hanako, you knew that when you… When you decided to do this.”

“Nene’s growing up,” He spits. “She’ll stop. She’ll get busy with her university classes and meet a boy and forget about me, about us. I’ll be a bad dream, and you’ll be her annoying underclassmen. In a few years, Kou’s going to care more about exorcising spirits than befriending them, if he cares at all. He might forget, too.” He drops your sleeve, pulling into himself, but it’s hardly an improvement. Like this, he just looks withdrawn, spiteful. Someone who knows what kind of trap they’ve been caught in, but still refuses to completely submit to it. “They always forget. You would’ve, if I let you.”

You want to deny it. You can think of a thousand reasons you wouldn’t, a thousand moments you’ve done more than enough to prove you’d never willingly abandon him, and yet, all your arguments and disputes and defenses disappear the moment you turn towards Hanako, finally looking at him in earnest. You think he’s going to be angry, furious, violent, and yet, your expectations couldn’t be farther from the truth. Rather than balling his fists and steeling himself, he’s shaking, trembling, rubbing furiously at his eyes with sleeves that are just a hair’s width too long, every tear he misses falling to his chest, unnoticed and neglected. You can’t hear him crying, but you almost wish you could. The sobs that rack over him are silent, his jaw locked in place and his teeth grit to the point of pain, but the few noises that slip through are pitchy, pitiful, evidence that something much louder is coming, something Hanako won’t be able to control. Something no one should have to go through, not alone.

Something you don’t want to see your friend go through alone.

You don’t think. You rest a hand on his shoulder, tugging him towards you gently, and just like that, Hanako’s face is buried in your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your midriff and yours resting limply on his shoulders, giving him permission to be as close as he wants to be. It’s not amnesty, but it’s sympathy, and that’s enough for Hanako to melt into you, to cling to you like a lifeline.

To make you think you might be able to forgive him, one day. Even if the idea seems incomprehensible, now.

So wrapped up in optimistic thoughts, you don’t notice how tight his grip is, as he clutches at your shirt. You don’t pull back when he goes quiet too quickly, or mention how easily he’s convinced to go still. You don’t feel the tiny, contented smile soon pressing into your skin, small but just as self-satisfied as any grin or smirk could ever hope to be. Involuntary, but genuine.

More genuine than any tear Hanako could ever force out, at least.

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cher-writes · 4 years

Text

Ethereal | Vladek Klimov x Reader (18+)

Read part 2

Word count: 4.6k

CW: Smut, NSFW, Wound, Blood

A/N: I know it's hella long but it irks me to make two people have sex when it doesn't make sense for them to do so. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

It was an exceptionally cold day. Not that it was never not cold in your little northern town. But even among the cold ones, that day felt a bit too cold to you. You were feeling lazy from the very moment you woke up, but after leaving your warm comforter the cold bit into your skin like a snake, even though you had the heater on. 'I gotta get this heater checked’ you thought as you opened up the blinds to look outside. Surprisingly it was neither snowing nor much cloudy. You could almost make out the sun behind the wispy clouds. This cold but almost sunny day lit you up with an amazing idea. You called in sick to your work without wasting any time. Quickly gulping down some leftovers and grabbing your meticulously packed little bag for this exact occasion you were on your way. Hoping none would see you was a terrible stretch of luck cause in that town, everyone knew everyone and everyone saw everything. You were confident you could lie your way out of trouble if you got in any so you didn't quite care anyway. You had only thought in your mind, The hot spring.

The hot water welcomed your skin like an old lover. As you hoped, the water soothed every aching and sore muscle in your body. The spring was empty as usual. The town people weren't quite fond of taking a bath there, unlike you, who even after being born and brought up there couldn't quite get over the euphoric feeling of bathing in a hot spring in the freezing cold weather. Sometimes you wondered if god made a mistake cause you clearly were meant to be in a more warm climate. The cold and the mundane nature of this place got under your skin way too often. Although there were some weird and unexplainable events occurring recently that left the town in quite an unrest. You knew some stuff but honestly you couldn't differentiate the truth from the rumors so you preferred to keep your distance. Anyway you didn't wanna think about that, all you wanted to do was to float in the tranquil hot water, tune everything out with the ecstatic feeling and you could do that forever.

Unfortunately, your forever was interrupted rather quickly as you felt waves behind you. You turned around only to be greeted with a man's face you've never seen before. And working at the local convenience store, it was unlikely you haven't come across almost everyone living in that godforsaken place. He was adrift a bit too close, and you were taken aback, visibly.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else, didn't mean to scare you” he blurted out sensing your shock and possible discomfort.

“I-It's fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be around” you replied. you could see his piercing green eyes even through the steam and they were gorgeous, to say the least. There was this intensity in them that you've never seen in anyone's eyes before.

You could feel yourself staring. So as to snap yourself out of it and to break the uncomfortable silence you quickly spoke up, “You aren't from around here!”. You meant to ask but it came out as a statement somehow, his intense eyes were messing with your tongue.

“Hah! No. I'm not.” he said ever so calmly. You could make out his face clearly from the steam now, and it was angelic. His slick neck and collarbone glistened in the warm water, now at more of a distance from you than before. Yet to you it felt like he was almost pressing against your skin. It made you uncomfortable, in a sensual way. But you played it cool, you had to play it cool. You weren't the type to flirt with unknown people let alone feel this way for a complete stranger that you met like 30 seconds ago. But it was a fact that you never came across a stranger that looked like him. You couldn't really blame yourself for feeling like that. You shook off your body's fervent reaction to him and said, “I see. We don't really get any tourists around here, especially during these months. Are you visiting someone?”

“Not really. I'm here to fulfill my duty.” he said, the words rolling out his tongue like butter. You've always adored that accent, rarely you heard it around there.

-“Duty?”

-“Yes.”

You understood he probably wasn't interested in explaining anything further and you quite weren't in the state to ask anything either. Your mind was getting hazy. There was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you but his presence felt electrifying. The tension, you felt, was excruciating yet exciting. He on the other hand, seemed extremely and unusually composed. Even smirking, ever so slightly

You were starting to realize there was something unnatural about this man, your head now completely fuzzy and that was your cue to leave. You dipped in the water and swam away without saying anything else. You didn't look back when you got out of the water. When you parked your car in front of your house 15 min later, you were panting.

It had been a few days since you saw him. Yet you couldn't get him out of your head. You saw his intense gaze at the back of your lid everytime you closed them. There were things happening around you but you were out of it. You felt faded everywhere you went. It was as if he took a part of you with him. It was so dumb when you thought about it, you were with him for like 2 minutes at best, yet he rubbed off on you so badly that you couldn't stop thinking of him. And sometimes you caught yourself wishing you met him again, maybe feel his skin this time. You wanted it to happen so much yet you were afraid of it happening, no, you were terrified. Cause if you felt his skin once, touched him even for a moment, you would lose control over all your motor function. Feeling this hot and bothered for someone you didn't even know the name of, left you quite ashamed.

That evening when you came home from your disturbingly tedious job, you weren't expecting for your wish to come true and that too to such an extent.

You walked straight to your kitchen to pour yourself some rosé cause it was Saturday and you had nothing better to do. You preferred the high of alcohol more than whatever you've been feeling for the last few days. It was way better to be actually drunk. You heard some rustling behind you as you were emptying the first glass. You didn't pay it any mind. As you were pouring yourself the second glass you heard footsteps, that sent you on alert mode. When you turned around, ever so slowly, you saw the guy in glasses. Standing, rather leaning against the door frame, with his left hand pressing against the side of his stomach. You were out of everything these past few days that's for sure but you still heard about him. Panic struck you quicker than the alcohol could. ‘How did he get in?’ you thought then immediately answered you own question by cursing yourself for not properly locking the door, the want to get drunk as quick as possible came back to bite you in the ass. But beating yourself up for that wouldn't help now, the danger was already in. With your back against the counter you started fumbling around with your hands in the back looking for something sharp, anything but the only thing you found was the bottle of rosé and the half poured glass. You cursed yourself again and understood that luck wasn't on your side so you decided to run for your life cause you didn't wanna die yet. But your body froze in place and nothing you could do would help it move. Fear took over your being like a frostbite. All of this happened only in the matter of a few seconds. You were now standing there, glaring at him with wide terrified eyes, preparing yourself for the bitter embrace of death. He was standing there still, crouched a bit, till then. Seeing you stop moving, he laggardly took off his glasses and the mask and threw it aside. Your eyes darted towards the accessories as they fell on the floor with a soft thump. It was only then that you noticed he was bleeding all over your floor. When your eyes came back up to see his now bare face, your body went numb and blood flooded the back of your neck like a tsunami at the sight. It was him.

Nothing was making sense to you. Right then probably the alcohol kicked in cause you started feeling tipsy and was starting to doubt if all of that was just a mere hallucination. You were starting to spiral in your absurd thoughts when he spoke up, his voice sharp from the visible pain he was in, “w-will you help-p me p-please?”

Hearing his aching voice something went off in you. The fact that he was the guy in glasses, the dangerous demon people kept talking about, completely washed away from your immediate memory. You rushed over to him and held him by his shoulder to walk him to your bedroom. You helped him out of his coat and the clothings underneath. He inhaled sharply when the t-shirt brushed against the side of his stomach as he was taking it off. It was then that you could see the wound. It was ghastly and bleeding still. You gasped at the sight of it. You blurted out, “How did you get this?”

He didn't answer your question, rather went on to say, “it's a...um.. grazed bullet wound”. His voice strained from the agony.

“W-we need to go to the hospital, what if the bullet is inside!”, you said as your fingers were ghosting over the wound, your teeth clenched. You were growing more and more worried with every passing moment.

“Look at me”, he said firmly with his tired voice and you did, he was looking more human now. Still as unreal as that day, but somehow more human. ‘It's probably all the blood’, you thought to yourself.

“I can't go to the hospital, you understand? You have to help me however you can right here, yeah?” he had this expression, this strange mix of pleading and pain on his face as he said that and nodded slowly. You nodded back in return like an old partner in crime would. After carefully sitting him down on the bed and giving him one of your T-shirts that was just lying around to press over the wound, you practically ran over to your bathroom to get your first aid box. You came back equally hurried. He was slouching in pain. One hand pressing the t-shirt over his wound, other one supporting his body weight on the bed.

You laid him down slowly and then sat beside him. He hissed as you took off the now bloody t-shirt and exposed the wound again. You started cleaning the wound with an antiseptic liquid and you could feel his body shudder under your touch from the pangs of the liquid.

“I think it needs stitches” you looked up and said. He looked fatigued but still more beautiful than any human you've ever seen.

“Can you do it?” he managed to say, with labored breathing.

“I-i learnt it in highschool. I have the supplies but I don't know. It may hurt. I still think we should go to the hos-”

“Do it.” he cut you off quite abruptly. And as if under a spell, you complied.

Halfway through the process, you looked up to see him staring at you. His eyes sent a chill down your spine. The intensity was now setting in, he was half naked, almost under you, you were touching his warm skin and he was staring at you, like that. You couldn't bear the tension so you decided to speak up. Besides the questions were bubbling under the surface for quite a while now.

“How did you find my place?” you asked, and genuinely wanted to know.

-“Freya told me. She was curious to know with whom I confused her with.”

- “How do you know Freya?”

- “I do.”

- “and she told you my name too?”

- “Yes, (Y/N). She indeed did”

Your hand hitched a bit hearing your name roll off his tongue like that. You weren't prepared. He hissed at the sudden sharp pain.

- “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” you apologized quickly. He didn't say anything. For a while you went quiet but the questions started pouring in again.

- “So why didn't you go to Freya's? You're clearly her guest. Why come to me?”

- “There were police at her place.”

And at that sentence, everything came back to you like a flood.

“Who are you? What's with you and the glasses? And what is this demon people keep talking about? What the hell is this bullet wound and how did you get it? Why are you on the run from the police? Did you kill someone?”, in one singular breath you asked. Your hands stopped working at his wound. The fear was slowly creeping in again.

He looked at you blankly for a little while and then chuckled. It caught you off guard and you couldn't but relax a bit.

“You ask an awfully lot of questions to someone who is getting stitches on his stomach, don't you think?” he said in a strained but adoring voice.

You felt a bit humiliated and looked down to continue your work.

After a while, he let out a sigh and said, “I'm a Shaman. I came to save this town. From a demon who possesses people and slowly becomes them.”

Whatever he said didn't quite make sense to you but there was something so religious about the way he spoke, something so otherworldly about him that you believed him without a shadow of a doubt. You realized he didn't answer all your questions either and honestly you didn't need him to. You believed every word from of his mouth like it's the word of the lord. And at that point, if he said you were the demon, you would have believed him. Maybe that's what compelled you to ask the next question, “Am I the demon?”

- “No. Never. The demon wouldn't touch someone like you.”

Again it didn't make sense to you what he meant, but you felt it and you believed him. He was growing visibly weary so you decided not to ask him anything further. And when you were done stitching, he was fast asleep. You bandaged up the wound, turned off the lights and left him be.

You made your way to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of rosé. Your brain was banging against your skull, whatever happened from the evening truly felt like a fever dream. The man that you've been thinking about for the entire week and the man who this town thinks is a demon was fast asleep in your bedroom, it wasn't setting quite right in your brain. You drained the bottle, hoping you'd wake up from this. But instead you started feeling terribly exhausted. You wanted to just lie down on the floor and pass out right there but you deserved more than the hardwood floor after what happened that evening. Now if it was any other day, you would have slept on the couch but something about him was so magnetic that you couldn't keep yourself away from him. You stumbled your way to your bedroom and collapsed on the bean bag opposite to the bed. He was sleeping peacefully like a child. And looking at him, you too fell asleep with an empty bottle in your hand.

When you woke up, everything was blurry. Your headache hit your head before your vision did. As everything came into focus you saw him kneeling in front you, looking at you with his burning green eyes. The sun was coming in through the window above your head and it's glorious yellow glow bathed him. He looked like an ancient greek statue. However little humane he felt yesterday vanished just like that. With his soft lush curls draping over the face, he looked ethereal, kind but regal. You kept staring at him and couldn't quite speak. Whether it was the effect of his beauty or the hangover, you didn't know.

“You're awake” he said in a mellow soothing voice. He sounded much more lively than yesterday. He was still wearing only his pants. His body looked like it was carved out of a stone under the fuzzy sunlight.

You tried to say ‘hmm’ but made somewhat of a weird raspy sound. He didn't seem bothered by it.

“How's your wound?” you asked as you were trying to sit up properly.

“Better. Thanks to you.” he gave you a cordial smile. Something about that smile made you feel so safe even though a literal stranger was in your house at 6 in the morning.

-“um- do you want some coffee?”

-“No, you've already done enough, I think I should leave now”, he said as he looked at you with those mesmerizing green eyes. “Thank you (Y/N), I really appreciate your kindness”.

You didn't know what it was. Whether it was the way your name fell from his lips or the idea of him leaving and you not being able to see him again that sent a mix of anxiety and urgency down your body. You leaned in from the bean bag and crashed your lips onto his. Holding onto his shoulder for dear life, you pushed his body backwards with all your weight. You kept kissing him as if trying to devour him as quickly as possible. Running out of breath, when you pulled out, he had his back against the bed and you were half crawling half kneeling over his now stretched out legs. The position was almost as awkward as the situation. He looked at you with a startled expression, mouth slightly agape. You were just as appalled by your sudden inappropriate action.

“I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I should have asked. That was so inappropriate. I'm really so-” you blabbered on, flustered and ashamed of your actions.

“It's okay. I like you (Y/N)”, he cut you off and said with a soft loving voice, almost like you'd coo to a baby.

“B-but you don't even know me!”, the confusion in your voice was more than apparent. You looked at him wide eyed, hoping he would explain. Cause if he didn't, you wouldn't have the mental strength to ask him again after hearing what he just said.

“I don't need to know people like you all do” he spoke, the sunlight falling on him still making him look heavenly. “There's...There's a deeper knowing within me about people. From the place above and beyond. I knew you before, I know you now and I'd know you after this place too. I know you more than even you do perhaps. And I like you in all my knowing.”

His words felt like honey in your ears, his voice and accent made you feel light-headed. Or was it the hangover again? You couldn't tell. You didn't know. None of anything he said registered in your brain. Baffled, you just gawked at him, frozen in your uncomfortable posture.

Sensing your astonishment, he cupped your face with his hands and brushed your cheeks with his thumbs, with a smile that you were sure could cure you from all your illness. Under his touch you melted. It felt like electricity was running up and down your body. At this moment, you truly believed, he wasn't from this world.

Every bone in your body wanted to possess him.

And so you did. Kissing him with all the force you could muster. You crawled your way over his body, then straddling him. He kissed you back although more softly compared to your burning urgency. Your hands wandered into his soft hair, tugging and pulling. You were getting sloppy but you didn't take a moment off, you felt like if you did he might just slip off from under you like sand. Or you might wake up from this very vivid dream. You couldn't take any chances, you had to make the most of whatever it was, real or imagined. You were grinding against him slowly but aggressively. Your clothed chest rubbed against his bare skin. As his tongue mingled with yours, he tasted heavenly, like nothing you've tasted before. Your hands wandered all over his neck, shoulders and arms. You were trying to touch and feel everything that he was, he still didn't feel real to you. In your fervid bliss, you mistakenly pressed against his bandaged wound making him hiss out in pain against your mouth. Your ardent movements came to a halt as he slowly pulled away, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth, his lips glistened in the yellow sunlight.

“Go a bit easy on me, yeah?” he pleaded, his doe eyes piercing your soul. At that moment if he stabbed you in your heart, you'd die happy. But you wanted to please him, make up for whatever hurt you caused him. So you kissed him again, this time feebly. His mouth, the side of his mouth, jaw bone, neck, collarbone, you kept showering him with careful kisses, licks and bites all over his upper body. He was brushing his hands lovingly on your back. It felt like this was the moment you've been waiting for your whole life, you were quite sure you wouldn't exist afterwards. When you were done bathing every inch of his upper body with your lips you looked up to see his face. His affectionate gaze was sending warm ripples down your stomach. You felt his hardness against you and you knew what you wanted to do. You started kissing your way down towards his crotch, and after a bit of fumbling, you slid his pants off of him. There he was in all his glory. Without wasting a second, you took his cock in your mouth completely, as far as you could. His breath hitched at your sudden action. You glided your mouth up and down while your tongue went in circular motion around his length. If he was the god there then you were his one true devotee and you wanted to worship him, please him like your life depended on it. You heard him grunt softly and that made you soak through your panties. You could feel his body tense up, his breathing starting to get more and more rushed. You would finish him off like that if it weren't for his hands reaching down to cup your face and pull you up back on top of him. None of you were talking but it felt like you were communicating with him more than you've done with anybody before. He took your top off in a languid motion, followed by your bra. Your bare skin flush against his, like your body was on fire.

He eyed you up and down slowly, and uttered “you're beautiful”. You wished you could reply and say something but you were too out of your mind to do so. You only kissed him in return. After another fervent make out session, you pulled away, breathless. You were starting to get needy again as you felt your stomach slowly tightening up. He then pushed his back upwards in a clumsy way and sat up on the edge of the bed. You looked up to him and he looked celestial. At this point you weren't thinking anymore, everything you were doing was purely instinctual. He reached his right hand out to you and you took it. With one fluent motion he pulled you up and pinned you on the bed. He was now on top of you, staring down. You could see a glimpse of hunger in his eyes but his kind smile felt otherwise. It was him now who bathed your body with kisses. He lovingly took one of your nipples in his mouth and stroked the other one with his hand. With his warm tongue working on your nipple and his soft curls tickling your breast, you were quite sure you were in heaven. But you were getting impatient and you wanted to feel him inside of you. Unknowingly to you, your hips went up to grind against him as you whined sensually. He looked up at you and chuckled softly. You felt your cheeks warm up from embarrassment. But he complied with your will and helped you out of your pants and underwear. Now there was nothing between the two of you. He came up to face you as he positioned himself at your entrance. Your body felt like it would turn to dust at any moment. Your vision was hazy but you could swear his angelic beauty lit up the whole room. You felt like you were drowning in his eyes. But your reverie broke as he entered your body, filling you in. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around him. Your back arched up like a cat as he quickly found a rhythm and started hitting the right spot. Waves of pure bliss started to take over your whole body as your core started building up. You were a moaning mess under him, and his grunts felt like music to your ears. He was navigating the boat and you were just riding. He picked up the pace and became more and more aggressive. You could feel him smothering your cheeks, neck and breast with kisses. But honestly you couldn't tell anymore, you could only feel the waves rising and the tension building. Building and building and with a final hit, it all came undone. You came crashing down a mountain top but it felt euphoric. Your eyes rolled back somewhere into my skull. You could feel his tongue in your mouth, as his thrusts became more and more sloppy until it finally halted. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm fluid fill your insides.

When you opened your eyes, you were a panting and sweating mess. He pulled out of you slowly and rolled over to your side. He was equally as messy as you were. You turned on your side to face him. He was smiling at you coyly and in that moment it felt like you've known him for eternity. He was practically gleaming in the afterglow. As you were slowly coming down from the high a very embarrassing realization hit you. You didn't know his name. You just fucked someone you didn't even know the name of. You were becoming red with shame and he noticed.

“What's wrong?”, his voice filled with genuine concern. You were seriously considering if you should ask him that at this point. But you did,

-“I- um... what's your name?”

-“Vladek” he said softly and in that moment he looked so beautiful that you were afraid you'd go blind. Yet in his beauty there was this delicacy, this vulnerability. For some reason you felt like he didn't have much time left on his hands. As if he had to go back from where he came. He looked too vulnerable for this world and you had a very bad feeling.

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