#however it's slightly annoying to archive

[coffee-nya]

WARNING

I was very inspired by fanfictions on website "Archive Of Our Own":

1. "The door's wide open but I won't exit" by TheSilverSpy

2. "Bunny in a cage" by Peppermintbarky

READ THEM AT FIRST, BECAUSE I'M NAUGHTY ASS THAT MAY BE ACCIDENTAL OR NOT VERY ACCURATE TO COPY CERTAIN MOMENTS. I WILL BE HAPPY IF YOU PROMOTE THESE FANFICTIONS, BECAUSE THEIR AUTHORS DESERVE IT!!!!!!

REPEAT, READ THOSE FANFICTIONS FIRST!!!!!!

And at first I wrote it in Russian and sent it through the translator. If there's some mistakes, sowwy..

Hope you'll enjoy it~

After another adventure by Cane Gangle walked wearily through the corridors of the tent. Over time, she had learned to control her emotions, which allowed her to enjoy herself even in her tragic mask, albeit with a touch of melancholy. Zubble constantly helped her maintain her composure, and after many days, she could even forget about her happy mask and embrace her genuine feelings. However, these feelings were not entirely joyful for her in the end.

Now, after Jax's taunts, she was no longer feeling the cocktail of despondency, sadness, and apathy, laced with the cream of self-flagellation and self-loathing. Instead, she was constantly filled with anger and hate, like a Fury's wrath. This hatred was directed towards his smug face, that full by his sense of entitlement. At first glance, these feelings were much better than what she had experienced before, but she could have drowned sad feels out by spending time with Ragata or drawing, now new ones haunted her whenever she saw anything remotely resembling Jax. Gangle continued to don her comedy masks only for the sake of making pathetic attempts to focus on something else. But that damn bunny kept breaking them..

The whole situation was made worse by the memories of that adventure. Jax would frown and change the subject every time the conversation turned to it, which made everyone stop thinking about it, but not Gangle. Everything she did back then was still vivid in her mind, as if it had happened yesterday. Of course, she had gone overboard with the new mask, but that intoxicating feeling of control was real, more real than her plastic face, which she eventually discarded. Gangle hoped to forget about everything, but for some reason, every night, Jax's tired, submissive, and slightly frightened face appeared before her eyes, and his voice rang in her ears, still carrying a hint of rebellion, but only agreeing her requests and commands. It was both incredibly frustrating and f#@$ing exhilarating.

When she raised her head, she saw the long walls with the doors with the faces of the circus residents, including those who had long since erased. It couldn't be that the incident with the fast food was just a coincidence. It couldn't be that she had gained this power for nothing. Decided! She would no longer allow this arrogant bunny to do whatever it wanted, or to mock her. It was time to put him in his place.

As if by fate, Jax appeared behind Gangle, placing his paw on her head and casually fiddling with her mask.

—Well, crybaby? How was your adventure today? Pretty explosive, wasn't it? - He laughed nastily. Gangle pushed his hand away from her head, sounding extremely annoyed.

—You've literally tied a bomb to me. - Purple hare only laughed louder in response.

—Come on! It was funny! Besides, you're used to falling apart. By the way, where's your comedy mask? - The guy seemed proud of breaking her masks every time. There must be a whole bunch of them already.

Gangle sighed, clenching her fists. This was the perfect moment to take matters into her own hands. Taking advantage of the fact that Jax hadn't removed his hand from her face, she wrapped her arm around the hare's forearm and, before he could react, threw him to the ground. Purple bunny let out a pained grunt as his head hit the wall. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, staring at Gangle in confusion before his gaze turned to fury.

—Are you f#₽@ing crazy, ribbon?! - His voice grew louder, a sign of his impending anger.

—Look at yourself, Jax! Don't you get tired of constantly mocking me? Can't you go a day without humiliating and insulting me? - Her voice sounded high-pitched and somewhat hysterical as she spouted these pathetic accusations. This amused the hare, and he rested his hand on his knee, tilting his head to the side.

—Oh, how we can talk. Maybe I should go and tell Ragata about that figurine, since you're so brave. You're not afraid anymore, right? - His sarcastic smile spread across his face, and he let out a chuckle until he noticed the red ribbons wrapping around his throat. He furrowed his eyebrows, removing the smile from his face, and his voice became more serious. - What the hell-

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, as the ribbons tightened around his throat, causing him to emit only choked wheezes. He stuck out his tongue, opening his mouth wide and trying to gulp air. His fingers immediately began to fumble with the ribbons, trying to loosen their grip, but they only tightened around his throat, eliminating any chance of release. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he struggled to hold them back. The pain wasn't even from the lack of oxygen, but from the way the edges of the ribbon were digging into his skin, rubbing it raw and red, as if it wanted to scratch it off. When Jax looked back at Gangle, he saw her frowning and glaring at him with a menacing expression.

—If you try to manipulate me with this f#@$ing figurine again, you're going to regret it. - Her voice was unusually stern. The profanity added a sense of seriousness to her tone. Usually, she didn't swear, preferring to use light and subtle threats only in extreme situations. However, something had come over her, something new and dangerous, causing the rabbit to tuck its ears and try to suppress its own wheezing.

The purple rabbit looked at her with small, trembling pupils. For the first time, he felt threatened by her. It was as if her entire aura was screaming of mortal danger. Jax clenched his jaw tightly to keep from making too much noise, and his hands trembled as he tried to grab onto the ribbons. His gaze was filled with resignation and acceptance. Gangle noticed this expression, which surprised her as well, but she quickly regained her stern demeanor and finally released Jax's neck. He immediately fell to the floor, breathing deeply, coughing from the sudden influx of oxygen, and massaging his red throat. Gangle stood straight, as if towering over him.

—If you bother me again, I'll repeat everything. I hope you've learned your lesson. - She snorted before entering her room and locking the door from the inside.

Jax watched her go, unable to say anything in response. He lay on the floor for a while, then got up on all fours, taking deep breaths, even though the effects of the choke had long since passed. He covered his mouth with his hand, unable to suppress the blush on his cheeks and the slight smile on his face. What had just happened? Was this the domineering side of an Gangle? He only remembers something like this from that diner adventure, but he had to deal with NPCs and do the dirty work, blaming all actions on the usual manager's ways. And now.. He moved his hand to his neck.

It was something new. Something exciting.. He wanted to see this side of Gangle again. To experience her anger on himself again. And that strangulation.. Maybe if he continued to mock her, she would do it again?

[bwv572]

Createblog still exists. This is an archive of hundreds and thousands of old internet layouts, for xanga, blogger, or just an ordinary web sight. Hasn't been updated since 2013. It's a frozen time capsule of back when the internet had soul.

Even though it's all perfectly preserved, it feels like an accident. The admin hasn't touched the site in years. The domain will eventually expire and the owner probably won't care. I feel the need to download everything and archive it myself.

[sunderwight]

Okay, concept:

Luo Binghe grew up very poor prior to arriving to QJP. And when he first got to QJP, he was ostracized and neglected. So there are probably a lot of phrases, terms, and ideas that he didn't know were things until SY arrived and started actually teaching him. Right? So the bulk of what he did learn, he learned directly from Shen Yuan's own slightly messy attempts to fake ancient scholarly credentials.

Plus, QJP is supposed to be the peak of scholars and well-read, fancy intellectuals, and YQY probably also doesn't know shit about most of that stuff (having also been a former illiterate street child) and of course is incredibly predisposed to take Shen Qingqiu's side on virtually anything. Especially something frivolous or linked to their shared past, such as someone, say Qi Qingqi, accusing Shen Qingqiu of making up a literary reference or "gibberish" word. If something Shen Qingqiu says is something no one else seems to know, that just proves he's more worldly and well-read than the rest of his peers. Also, Shang Qinghua will probably know it, and despite his many (many) character flaws, Shang Qinghua reads a lot too. There's really very little to convince a former street child turned Demon Emperor whose former education began and ended with Shen Qingqiu specifically and Meng Mo (wildly out-of-touch with human culture anyway) to suspect that some of the difficult-to-source references his master makes really have no worldly source (in this world).

So Luo Binghe, in his quest to become as knowledgeable of all things about his shizun and keep up with him as well as possible, and maybe also put down some arguments he's overheard once and for all, eventually gets annoyed because CLEARLY there is a wealth of cultural knowledge contemporary to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua that didn't survive to his own generation. His efforts at hunting down all the sources being referenced and origins of certain philosophical ideas or terminology keep coming up empty in certain departments. He's been over the entire QJP library with a fine-tooth comb, but QJP focuses on things pertaining to cultivation, history, and knowledge. Obviously, there are gaps. The archives are unlikely to keep pop cultural references and lowbrow literature, and Luo Binghe begins to suspect (from what tastes his master seems to share with his shishu) that that is that actual source he's missing.

The trashy yellow books and romance literature of their generation! Bawdy poems and lewd artworks so on! Heck, that's probably even where the shared "code" (bad English) comes into play -- disciples are always trying to sneak forbidden material past their teachers and smuggle naughty books into the dormitories. Knowing Shizun and Shang Qinghua, Luo Binghe honestly wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were racketeering that shit in their own disciple days. Shang Qinghua acquiring materials, Shen Qingqiu acquiring buyers, both of them making their extra spending money off of secretly supplying Cang Qiong's population with contraband fiction and art.

Also, that would explain why both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua get flustered and refuse to elaborate if someone asks them what this or that strange turn of phrase refers to. Shen Qingqiu has a very thin face for actually discussing erotica, and Shang Qinghua doesn't like being caught doing illegal shit.

Luo Binghe desperately needs access to trash lit that's older than he is. However, most of that stuff is not printed to last, and turning it up is like trying to find old Spirk zines without the internet.

Shang Qinghua, the obvious go-to source, also seems to not really have anything that old anymore (intimidating him is laughably easy, if he had anything he would have coughed it up by the second or third time Luo Binghe asked and frowned at the same time), and if Shen Qingqiu did have anything he wouldn't want to be questioned about it. Asking too much might even get it destroyed in an act of excessive embarrassment.

Which means there is just one other person Luo Binghe knows who might be able to lead him to some sources. One other person he is absolutely, 100% certain was extensively reading trashy literature around the same time that Shizun was a young man. Someone who would know where to go to even begin looking for it.

Luo Binghe is going to have to ask Tianlang Jun for help with something.

[churinzie]

Much Needed Rest. .

SYNOPSIS: wouldn't it be lovely to just finally get the rest you were so deprived of?

CHARACTERS: dan heng x reader　╱　established relationship

A/N: mwah i conjured this up at 11pm cuz i keep seeing my boy sleeping in every single bit of fanart god bless

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

It was an almost cultural shock when Dan Heng had stepped foot off of the Express as soon as Pom Pom had announced that they were making a stop at the Xianzhou Luofu. You initially had no idea why your boyfriend  was acting so weary and suddenly seemed a bit more cautious than usual. But now, after learning everything, you can’t say that you were surprised.

It made sense that someone would be anxious about returning to their home after initially being banished there due to their past life.

Once you were actually aware of what Dan Heng had been through, you simply felt nothing but sympathy and remorse. It was definitely horrible to have been constantly referred to and compared to his past when he wasn’t that same person anymore. You couldn’t imagine how stressful it might’ve been for Dan Heng and..

Wait, has he even slept properly?

Dan Heng hadn’t slept not once when he returned to the Express. In his new form, appearing to be as irritated and bothered as ever. Which definitely sent alarm bells ringing inside your body as soon as you took a peek at his simmering teal eyes that seemingly glowed a lot brighter than usual as he spoke to Mr. Yang. You just assumed that his eyes were in fact glowing. Taking a closer look, you realized that there was the slightest hint of dark circles appearing underneath your boyfriend’s eyes. No one else seemed to notice it though. Was it just you being a bit too observant? You didn’t know but what you did know was that Dan Heng seemed to just be a bit drowsy. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could sense it from a mile away.

However, just how in the world were you supposed to get a vidyadhara in bed? A vidyadhara that barely slept in the first place much less?

It was a difficult mission but you knew that it had to be done eventually so why not start now as soon as everyone else was asleep as well? It couldn’t hurt to try. Unfortunately, Dan Heng wasn’t too on board with the way that you kept intensely staring at his face as if you were scrutinizing him in a way throughout the entire day of him coming back to the Express. He couldn’t exactly help it when on the Luofu, the first thing that people did once they gave him a good look was to either be scared of him or try to kill him.

So, it was very understandable why he was a bit weary but he couldn’t be too irritated. He was dating you after all. He knew better than anyone that you had no malicious intent towards him. But what he really didn’t expect was for you to appear on the other side of the Archive’s closed door in the middle of the night. Dan Heng had mentally decided that he’d only appear in this form at night just so nothing would feel suppressed and so he could, unfortunately, get used to it.

A knock, followed by another one, and then a few others soon followed before he mentally facepalmed. He found the relentless sounds a bit tedious in the dead of the night. “Enter,” Dan Heng had soon said, watching the door open to reveal your half awake form on the other side. He should’ve known that it was you and not March after all. March probably would’ve had a way more annoying announcement of her presence.

No matter how annoyed he probably (most likely) seemed, he enjoyed the visit and couldn’t hide just how softer and quieter his tone had gotten.

“Did you need something?” It was nothing but a soft murmur that had left from his lips as soon as the door had closed behind you.

“A certain someone looked a bit too tired as soon as he returned,” You said, albeit slightly accusatory, as one of your hands came up as a half hearted attempt at rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Rooming with March was quite the adventurous idea to say the least. She wasn’t a light sleeper by any means but she snores. Heavily.

The accusation only earned a blank look from your boyfriend that soon became a look of something unidentifiable as one of his eyebrows lifted once he fully took in the words. Dan Heng was trying his hardest not to fall into the trap (that honestly sounded amazing in his mind) but he couldn’t help how exhausted his body felt. He turned his back towards you as his skilled hands turned through pages of a book that he was definitely not reading anymore. He had an even better distraction now. “Is that why you were staring me down throughout the entire day? Which was a bit. . concerning from my perspective by the way.”

“Precisely. You need actual sleep instead of just these small power naps.” You shot back almost immediately as Dan Heng swiftly glanced over his shoulder towards you silently for a moment, his longer hair moving in sync with the head turn.

“I feel as though you have an ulterior motive with this.” He accused this time around. But, you knew that he wasn’t upset by any means. If anything, this was just his way of playing along. However your eyes kept staring slightly at the dark circles under your boyfriend’s eyes.

“And so what if I do? I see nothing wrong with rooming with you instead of March for the night. Besides,” You trailed off as you took a couple steps closer towards Dan Heng, his gaze unwavering but still appeared to be softer the closer you had gotten. Now, your tired eyes can finally take a good look at him. You more so became a bit close towards his back so you could be face to face.

“Just who are you to deny me anything without you eventually giving in?” You finished saying but this time in a quieter tone. That earned a slight chuckle and smile to emit from him.

“I suppose I have no choice but to indulge, do I?” He said, only in amusement this time. However the more he spoke, he definitely had a more of a drowsy tone than earlier when he spoke. All of this distracting was actually making his system realize just how much sleep he wanted— no, needed is the better word to use.

You only nodded and slowly slipped the book out of Dan Heng’s hands, closing it and putting it down on a nearby desk before taking one of his hands and practically dragging him towards the bed. It was big enough, surely it could fit both of you. Meanwhile, Dan Heng was still reeling about how he basically agreed to something as intimate as this. He had never done something even remotely close to this before you came into his life so it made just a small hint of blush appear on his otherwise stoic face.

The idea of cuddling in the beautiful night sky— or well, space felt a bit too romantic for him but if it made you happy then Dan Heng wouldn’t fully disagree with it. He would be okay with it. So when you had laid down first, he didn’t hesitate to accompany you right beside you. Dan Heng couldn’t deny how odd and awkward this was a first. You took the lead and eventually sought him out and brought him closer and into your arms, which you tell that surprised him heavily from how his breath hitched in your ear. Both of your legs tangling themselves with Dan Hen’s legs. It was awkward at first but, after a bit of shifting around, a comfortable position and spot was found for the both of you.

“Tense,” You noted out loud. He practically side eyed you with a half hearted attempt of relaxing his tense body and soon genuinely sinking into your embrace and returning it. Dan Heng buried his face into your chest and wrapped his arms around your lower half tightly just so you wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t dare let you leave when he had just become comfortable. It would crush him. “This better?” He muttered quietly. To which you responded with a small nod and a happy hum.

You could feel the earlier drowsiness overtaking your body and, without thinking much, one of your hands came up to the top of Dan Heng’s head. Your fingers slowly carding through the longer black hair, deliberately avoiding his horns to not cause any discomfort. This repeated motion felt as if you were petting him a sense and, unfortunately, Dan Heng loved it. He huffed quietly as he, unfortunately, felt himself leaning into the touch. He had never been like this before so this was definitely a new one for him but he couldn’t help the way that a content noise emitted from him.

The noise that followed soon after was nothing short of a quiet and embarrassed purr.

“Did you just—”

“Let’s not talk about it.” He immediately interrupted and you didn’t even have to completely look at him to know that he was definitely embarrassed and wouldn’t be looking at you any time soon to save his pride. You just dismissively shook your head but otherwise continued to seemingly pet your boyfriend. You could feel his body relaxing even further in your hold and that just made you even more drowsy. You yawned quietly which alerted Dan Heng that you were in the same boat as him. He subconsciously snuggled a bit closer and all of a sudden you felt a weird long and scaly thing wrapping around your waist.

One glance down and you realized that weird sensation that you were feeling was due to the teal and slightly translucent dragon tail that was connected to Dan Heng. You didn’t mind it though but it did spook you at first since it had happened with no warning. Besides, you were too tired to object to it even if you truly wanted to. You just closed your eyes and eventually, your movements came to a halt as your body practically went lax and your breathing had evened out. You were asleep while Dan Heng was still slightly awake. He noticed it immediately and took a small glance towards your sleeping face, ultimately deciding to be a bit brave for this small gesture, and leaned in to press the tiniest but softest kiss upon your forehead. It was as if he was silently saying “Goodnight.” since he hadn’t had the chance to before you fell into dreamland.

After doing that, Dan Heng felt a bit more comfortable with trying to fall asleep now. His head was still filled with an onslaught of swarming thoughts and anxieties but maybe, just maybe, he could put his worries aside for now and just allow himself this one time chance of freedom. He felt relieved when he finally fell asleep.

Dan Heng would have to definitely thank you for your constant insistence. He really needed it. And, most importantly, he needed you.

thank you for reading <3 have a good day, reblogs & comments are much appreciated !

© churinzie 2024. ノ all rights reserved

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 18.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: YAY we finally made real progress with the soldier!! Hehe i hope that you guys enjoyed the way that ended. I really thought that having Peter there would also help because he's such a comforting person<3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 14 / chapter 15 / chapter 16 / chapter 17

The CIA was hustling and bustling. While the fast-paced environment was normal for the agency, Natasha observed that everyone seemed to be on edge. Agents that didn't think she could see them were glancing her way, whispering behind hands, sweat running down their necks, and some immediately ducking into their computers and acting as if they were busy.

After all, a house call from an Avenger wasn't an everyday happenstance...and for two visits in the span of about two weeks?

Something was off, and everyone in the agency knew.

Natasha's gaze was kept on the Director, however, who was tense and ushering them to his office out of sight. She tilted her head to mutter quietly to the woman beside her.

"How much do you want to be that they're encrypting everything in here as much as possible."

"Agent Romanoff, with your track record, it's a good strategy."

Natasha smirked slightly, stating as she jutted her chin out slightly.

"Aw, come on, Maria, you don't really think I'd have the nerve to steal precious information right within the lion's den, do you?"

Maria Hill was annoyed, giving the woman a death-glare as she turned to her, their steps pausing as she muttered out.

"Romanoff, I implore you to use better judgement. Do the Avengers even know that you're here right now?"

Natasha snickered, and Maria just huffed before the Director ushered them into his office. He was clumsy, bumping his hip into his desk as he tried to readjust his suit and tie, sitting before them with a nervous gleam within his eyes that he hid behind a wide and welcoming smile.

"While I'm unsure if I'm happy to see Agent Romanoff within my agency, I am honored to be in the presence of yet another Avenger and the renowned Maria Hill within my office. What can I do for you, ladies?"

Natasha smiled before grabbing a device within her pocket and held it up, making Maria glance at her before glancing at the Director.

"Director Holloway, do you know what this is?"

Director Holloway looked nervous, asking with an intrigued tone to his voice.

"No, Agent Romanoff, I'm not entirely sure."

She clicked a button, and the Director made a noise of pain as the device effectively scrambled and disengaged any equipment within the office that was listening in on their conversation.

"This is a signal jammer. I just cut off your communications and surveillance devices that are in this room. We only have about two minutes or less to talk now, but if you cooperate, you may go back to your life as the CIA Director normally. Are you willing to comply?"

The Director looked angry, standing up and exclaiming.

"What is this?!"

Maria immediately pulled her weapon out, ordering firmly as she brandished it by placing it upon her lap.

"Sit down, Director."

The Director stuttered before he sat down, and Natasha stood up, sliding a file over to the Director before opening it up.

"This man here is Jack Rollins, which I'm sure you already know. Why are you hiding him?"

The Director laughed nervously, shaking his head as he gestured to the file.

"What are you talking about? Jack Rollins was pronounced dead after the incident at the Triskelion."

Natasha replied firmly, tilting her head slightly.

"His body was never discovered, and the Avengers have reason to believe that he is alive and the CIA is harboring him. Director Holloway, I'm not asking anymore, so it would be your best interest to answer my question."

The Director looked uncomfortable, and Maria put a bullet within the chamber of her gun loudly. Holloway's eyes became wide, and he rushed out.

"Listen, I truly have no idea what you are talking about. Do you realize how much trouble you're going to be in for doing this?!"

Maria Hill finally stood and stated, a hand on her hip.

"We won't be the ones in trouble for rooting out another operative of HYDRA. Director Holloway, harboring a fugitive of the State is treason. Do you really want to play with fire?"

Natasha leaned forward, her face hardening as she pointed at Rollins' picture.

"Where is he?"

Holloway looked as though he was beginning to panic, and with just a raise of Natasha's eyebrow, the Director finally broke.

"Listen, this wasn't my idea! The CIA has been using HYDRA as a means to an end! We partnered with them back in the 60's...creating our own super soldier program in order to make the best agents to ensure national security!"

Maria looked offended, exclaiming.

"National Security? Working with HYDRA means that you are not secure at all."

Holloway hissed out, slamming his fist down on the table.

"Don't you think that we know that? HYDRA has always been using us as we have been using them. Stealing our information, sabotaging our efforts, the whole nine yards!"

Natasha frowned and asked.

"What do you know about Project Achilles?"

Holloway's face paled, and a haunted look came within his eyes.

"Project Achilles...it was a last resort. We worked together with HYDRA to create the perfect agent...we slaved for years trying to replicate what Howard Stark had created. Robert had always been a brilliant mind, you see? While HYDRA and the CIA had the same idea of creating a perfect weapon, the CIA wanted to...to have the perfect agent that could protect our country! But HYDRA....HYDRA wanted to expand their influence...to control from within! Project Achilles was just a front!"

Maria scoffed, asking.

"So you wanted to create another Captain America, but instead gave HYDRA everything they needed to create a perfect Winter Soldier program. Unbelievable."

Holloway pleaded, sweat running down his face in earnest.

"You have to believe me that this wasn't what we wanted to happen! Before we knew it, HYDRA had control of almost all of the CIA! Anybody that wanted to expose or whistleblow was taken and disappeared! Why do you think (Y/n) (L/n) was taken!"

Natasha and Maria glanced at each other with grave expressions, and Holloway looked horrified. He began to whisper, panicking to himself.

"Oh, god, they're going to kill me. They're going to fucking kill me-they'll know I talked. I’m dead. You don’t understand—"

Natasha slapped the Director to get him to stop panicking, the man clutching his cheek with shock.

"Listen to me very closely. I want you to tell me where Rollins is and why you are hiding him."

"I cannot do that. He knows too much! Releasing him to you means letting HYDRA know that we've turned our backs, and we have no way of protecting ourselves!"

Natasha mused, shaking her head.

"You mean that taking him down risks exposing the CIA for their complicity in illegal experimentation, mind control projects, assassinations, and treason for working with the enemy?"

Holloway looked as though he was going to bust a blood vessel within his head, and Maria ordered him.

"Director Holloway, I'm formally ordering you to give us Jack Rollins' location or else be arrested for unauthorized covert operations, collusion with a terrorist organization, human rights violations, obstruction of justice, and, oh, conspiracy against the U.S, to name a few."

Holloway began to panic again, incomplete words falling out of his mouth, and Natasha tapped her watch.

"Tick, tock, Director Dean Holloway. This is a losing battle either way, so you might as well go out with some dignity."

Holloway made a face of regret before he covered his face and muttered through his hands.

"He's at The Farm...in Virginia. We knew that the Avengers couldn't storm in without risking backlash from the U.S. Government...anymore than the Avengers Initiative has already faced."

Holloway then added, giving Natasha and Maria a pleading look as his eyes became glassy and his nostrils flared.

"But you have to believe me that I never wanted it to go this far! (Y/n)...she was such a kind woman...I never wanted her to get hurt, but she kept asking questions...kept finding more things that weren't for her to see...and was threatening to take it to the news; to the Department of Justice and the Director of National Security! I tried to get her to stop, I did, but HYDRA...HYDRA didn't care."

He began to silently cry, whispering.

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted it to be this way. I just...wanted our country to be safe."

Maria and Natasha both scoffed, Maria muttering.

"You can explain it all at your court hearing, Director."

Director Holloway looked horrified and confused, and Maria pulled out a tape recorder, hitting play and his confession playing back to him. Holloway pleaded, standing up and gesturing.

"Please, please, you don't understand! If you do this, I am a dead man! I mean, my...my family! What about my family?"

Natasha shrugged, a cold and uncaring expression on her face.

"I guess we'll just have to see, Director. What is it...eye for an eye?"

As the timer went off, Natasha's facial expression turned into a smile as she gestured to her watch.

"Thank you so much for your cooperation, Director Holloway. We'll be in touch."

Natasha and Maria left, their steps quick as they moved to get out of the agency, and once they were in the car together, Maria glanced at Natasha.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I think it's a damn stupid idea."

The voice of Nick Fury came through the speakers of the car, and Natasha couldn't help but to grin.

"Aw, you don't really mean that, do you?"

Fury scoffed, pleading with her as Maria quickly drove away from the CIA agency.

"Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t just threaten to expose a U.S. intelligence agency on the grounds of 'moral obligation'!"

Natasha was quiet, crossing her arms as she picked at her nails, stating.

"The CIA is just as corrupt as SHIELD was. They were harboring a HYDRA fugitive, worked with the organization, experimented on a civilian and who knows how many more, tested human weapons, all under the guise of national security, but you and I both know that isn't true at all. You want me to sit on that?"

Fury immediately replied, Maria wincing slightly as his voice became angry.

"I'm not asking you to sit on it. I'm asking if you've lost your damn mind!"

Fury took a breath, calming himself before he continued.

"You want justice—so do I. But blowing the lid off the CIA doesn’t just scorch the earth, Romanoff—it burns every single name we’ve ever worked with. Every operative. Every shadow asset. Every mission that ever prevented a war before it started."

Natasha replied with a frown, stating.

"They have what's coming to them."

"This isn't about whether or not people deserve what is coming to them-it's about the goddamn consequences. You wanna drag them into the light? Fine. But do it smart. Controlled. Surgical. Not guns blazing with Hill and pulling triggers in a federal office."

Natasha chuckled, which made Fury growl in annoyance.

"I didn't realize that recording a confession was the same as pulling a trigger, Fury."

Maria gave the woman a look, and Natasha just grinned wider. Nick didn't grace Natasha with a response, stating to her instead as his voice softened just the slightest.

"Look, I get it. You see HYDRA, and it’s personal. You want to do right by (Y/n), by everyone that HYDRA has hurt. But if you go about this the wrong way, the fallout won’t just land on Holloway’s head. It’ll land on yours. On Barnes. On (Y/n). On the Avengers--"

Fury then paused for a moment before sighing in defeat.

"You wanna clean house? Fine. But you do it with a mop and gloves, not a motherfucking flamethrower."

The line clicked, and Maria sighed after a moment, clearing her throat.

"Well, that could have gone...a lot better than it did."

Natasha didn't comment. Instead, she rolled her head to look at Maria, asking.

"Hey, you wanna go get some coffee? There's this new shop that just opened up down the way. Apparently their macchiatos are to die for."

Maria looked conflicted before her shoulders fell and she flipped her turn signal on.

"You know what? After uncovering a national security conspiracy and the threat of another internal war with HYDRA? I think coffee sounds great."

-PETER-

Peter could feel the tension in the room slowly dying. Ever since (Y/n) had said to Bucky that she wanted to go home, she had completely rebuilt her walls again, retreating to stay curled up in a darker corner of the heart-shaped herb garden. Bucky was currently on the phone with Steve, updating him about the progress he just made when Peter suddenly received a message on his phone.

Spidey Sunny Patch: Old McDonald is at The Farm. You know what to do. Don’t forget the milk.

Peter made a face of confusion before he stood up to tap Barnes on the shoulder. Bucky paused his conversation with Steve before he glanced at Peter.

"What is it?"

"Natasha just sent me a message."

Peter showed Bucky the message, and he watched as Bucky's face became serious. Bucky spoke into the phone, not noticing the way (Y/n)'s head suddenly perked up as she listened.

"Steve, Natasha just found where Rollins is. I'll be up there shortly."

Bucky hung up, and he looked at Peter, ordering.

"I want you to stay here with her, alright? Don't answer that door for anybody except for the Dora Milaje, T'Challa, or Shuri."

Peter nodded before he asked Bucky as Bucky slipped his phone into his pocket and tightened the laces of his boots.

"What should I do with (Y/n) in the meantime?"

Bucky glanced at (Y/n), pursing his lips before stating gently.

"Just give her some time to be by herself. Make sure she eats and drinks something though...and keep me updated, alright?"

Peter nodded again, saying.

"Okay, I'll do my best."

"Thanks, Queens."

Peter smiled gently before watching as Bucky left, the Dora Milaje agent stepping away from the door to let him through before standing guard again. Peter glanced back at (Y/n) before sighing and slipping into his backpack. Taking out his homework, he sat near her and began to work. The hairs on his arm suddenly stood up, and he realized that (Y/n) was subtly watching him. With a curious tilt of his head, he asked her gently.

"Do you...want me to show you what I'm working on? It's my homework...for school."

The words seemed to confuse the woman, her brows furrowing uncomfortably before she turned away from him, clutching her knees. Despite her obvious refusal, Peter decided to begin speaking.

"Um, we're working on Kinematics in Physics right now...well, specifically the equations of motion and circular motion."

He paused to gauge (Y/n)'s reaction, and he was surprised when the woman looked at him, swallowing thickly before her eyes darted down to the textbook.

"What is it?"

She became uncomfortable again before she whispered.

"I...hear...my voice...talking about...designing things..."

Peter gave her his undivided attention, tilting his head as he inquired softly.

"Designing what?"

She frowned, looking confused before (Y/n) responded.

"Aircrafts...drones..."

Her voice trailed off, her eyes glazing over, and she turned away from him, leaning her head back into her knees and subtly shaking. Despite her confusion and closed-off nature, Peter felt a surge of hope. She seemed to be remembering things at a fast rate, and though Peter was happy, he also became worried. What if she began to remember too much at once? Peter chewed on his lip before he comforted.

"I'm glad that you're remembering things."

She seemed stunned, glancing at him before she replied brokenly.

"I'm not supposed to remember..."

Peter wasn't sure what to respond with, and before he knew it, (Y/n) was completely closed off and unresponsive. Biting his lip, Peter then sighed before going back to his work, wondering what the Avengers were doing now.

-

STORY NOTES: The scene opens up with Natasha and Maria Hill in the CIA Agency. We learn that Natasha has made a house call to the Director, who is currently leading Natasha and Maria into his office. He is visibly nervous and tense, and we learn that Natasha is working without the involvement of the Avengers. The Director finally ushers them into his office, and Natasha immediately opens the conversation by displaying a signal jammer. She effectively disengages any and all surveillance devices within the room, including a secret earpiece that the Director was wearing.

Natasha begins to question the Director about Jack Rollins and his whereabouts. At first, the Director plays dumb, but after some persuasion and passive-aggressive displays, the Director finally caves under the pressure. He reveals that the CIA has been working and using HYDRA to their advantage in order to further their own research of a super soldier program that the CIA was conducting in secret. He reveals that the CIA also knew that HYDRA was using them. He tells Natasha and Maria of how HYDRA had been stealing classified information, sabotaging CIA efforts and missions, among other incidents.

Natasha then asks Director Holloway about Project Achilles, which causes the man to become upset. He reveals that Project Achilles was supposed to be a last resort for the CIA, and it was an operation that was supposed to be about national security but was perverted by HYDRA into expanding their influence and working from within. He says to Natasha that the Project became a front for HYDRA. Maria points out that the CIA was trying to create a new Captain America, but instead gave HYDRA the means to create a new and improved Winter Soldier, and Holloway refutes the statement. He begs Maria to understand that the CIA never wanted the Project to become what it did and that HYDRA had, and has, seized control of most of the CIA. He reveals that (Y/n) (L/n) had been kidnapped for attempting to expose the CIA, and consequently HYDRA.

Natasha demands to know where Rollins is and why the CIA is hiding him, and Holloway states that he can't give her the information she seeks because it will alert HYDRA that he has revealed everything. However, Natasha retorts that he is more concerned with not risking the CIA's exposure for willful involvement with HYDRA, among other unlawful offenses. Maria then threatens Director Holloway with being arrested, which causes the Director to become speechless. After more urging, the Director finally reveals Jack Rollins' location. He then reveals that he feels guilty for what happened to (Y/n), affirming that he never wanted her to get hurt.

He reveals that (Y/n) had begun to ask questions about the CIA, and was finding documents that indicated the CIA's involvement with HYDRA, and was getting ready to expose the CIA, and consequently HYDRA, which was what ultimately caused her disappearance. Maria tells the Director that he could confess everything at his court hearing, alluding that the Director, despite cooperating, was still going to be exposed and arrested. Once the leave the Agency, Natasha is on a phone call with Nicky Fury, who is angry with Natasha for lighting a fire within HYDRA. Natasha and Fury begin to have a debate about moral obligation, in which Fury reprimands Natasha for her reckless behavior. After a few more moments of speaking, Fury finally gives in and tells Natasha to be careful and smart about her exposure of the CIA. Once the phone call ends, Natasha invites Maria for coffee.

The scene changes to Peter Parker, Bucky, and (Y/n). Bucky is on the phone with Steve to update him about (Y/n)'s sudden progress while Peter is keeping watch over (Y/n), who has become unresponsive. Natasha then sends Peter a message in codewords. She indicates for Peter to tell the Avengers, and Peter shows Bucky the message. Bucky understand immediately and alerts Steve. He orders for Peter to stay with (Y/n) while he goes to inform the Avengers of the news, and Peter agrees. Once Bucky leaves and Peter is unsure of what to do, he begins to work on his schoolwork. Peter is surprised to find (Y/n) watching him as he works, and he explains that his Physics class is currently working on Kinematics, specifically the Equations of Motion and Circular Motion. The topics trigger an auditory flashback, which (Y/n) vaguely explains after Peter notices her weary behavior.

She reveals that she can hear her voice talking about "designing things" and when Peter asks her about what, (Y/n) reveals that it was about aircrafts and drones. She retreats again, becoming unresponsive once more, and though Peter is worried about how fast she is remembering things, he tells her that he is happy that she is remembering. However, (Y/n) tells him that she's not supposed to remember things, and Peter is unsure how to respond. Instead, Peter begins to work on his homework again while wondering what the Avengers are doing. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99

[yourislandgirl]

*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ IRRESISTIBLE ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || 심재윤 x fem!reader || drabble

— KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO series

summary: distracted by the charm of your darling boyfriend, you find yourself unable to resist his need for attention, but in all seriousness, who’d be able to resist jake?

genres: fluff, romance, non-idol!jake x non-idol!reader, est. relationship, ft. mentions of huh yunjin and layla

warnings: attempts at humour, swearing/cursing, pet names, slightly suggestive bcs jake’s a simp and doesn’t bother hiding it, mentioned the book ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ . ya know, in case you don’t like that book ..

w.c: 1.5k

[archive]

“Stop.”

His giggles were glittery. Just hearing them would set off a flutter in your chest. “What? I’m just appreciating nature and its beauty.” You could practically hear the smile from his voice.

It took a lot of strength to not look up, to keep your gaze firmly situation on the letters that ran along the page in front of you. Your fingers tightened around the soft copy covers of the novel in your hands, thumb rubbing against the paper as you tried to read the next sentence.

It was an impossible task, you quickly realised, your senses distracted by the ticklish sensation of grass against your ankles. The culprit, however, wasn’t the innocent grass field of the park, but actually your attention whore of a boyfriend, laying on his stomach by your feet, drawing little invisible doodles on your bare calf with the tip of the grass blade.

more under cut !!

You knew what he was doing, the unsubtly in the teasing glances that he’d sneak your way, observing your reaction, seeing how long it would take for you to break. It was one of his more annoying qualities that you couldn’t help but find endearing… eventually.

At that moment though, you resolved to simply tap your finger against the corner of the book, your eyes unfocused, not a single word on the page registering as you pursed your lips, squashing whatever tiny smile wanted to make itself known. You were gonna last this time.

See, previous times it had happened — and yes, it happened a lot — Jake would usually win. Whether it was his inconspicuous back hugs which eventually had him pulling you away from whatever you were doing previously, or the more blatantly obvious way he’d smile, quirk his head to the side, and pull you along with him.

Jake was simply irresistible. And he knew it, which is always a problem.

That afternoon, however, you‘d decided the best way to defeat him, is to divert him, distract him, and so you set your plan into motion;

“Jakey, what does this word mean?”

“Hm?”

Immediately the grass blade was abandoned, the pursuit to tease was thrown aside and your puppy dog of a boyfriend had pulled himself up and shuffled closer, leaning his back against the large tree trunk, just like you.

He pouted his lips, following your finger as you pointed out the word. “Iota? I thought you were reading a romance book…”

You scoffed, “I am.” Slipping your bookmark into the spine you closed the book to show him the cover. ‘To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before’ was printed in pretty ribbon-like loops of text, glossy and black against the light baby pink background.

Jake smirked, opening the book once more to read out the sentence before he started explaining the origins of ‘iota’ (ancient greek text), and the significance of that letter (it’s the smallest in the alphabet), and how it applies in a modern context (“Basically, babe, it means you couldn’t give less of a fuck”).

You bit your lip, suppressing your laughter as you carefully pulled out your bookmark and continued reading. Your head rested against Jake‘s shoulder, his voice slowly helping you relax as he continued to explain random yet somewhat applicable definitions to the word ‘iota’.

You couldn’t really understand, mostly because you were only paying like 40% of your attention on what he was saying. Zoning in and out every now and then, catching a few anecdotes about his senior year maths class and imaginary numbers, whatever those mean.

Just as you reached the next chapter, you felt Jake tap your forehead. “Are you sleeping?”

“What? No!” You shuffled back a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jake’s eyes darted down to the novel in your hands, noticing the next chapters number on the page. “You’re reading? I thought you were listening to me,” he whined, an embarrassed little smile on his lips.

You shut the book in an instant, completely forgetting about your bookmark. “I am!” You insisted, choosing to summaries his explanation as proof. “You said it was ancient greek alphabet, the smallest of them all, means I couldn’t give less of a flying fu—”

“Fine, what was the last thing I said?”

You stilled, “Uh…” Mind going blank, you figured a blind shot in the dark wouldn’t hurt, safest option, honestly. “…That I’m the love of your life?”

Jake‘s expression fell flat. “No, I didn’t—”

“I’m not the love of your life?!”

“That’s not what I— …Well played.” Quirking his lip a little, Jake sighed, holding out his fist as a peace offering.

“Thank you.” Smirking, you fist bumped him, before looking back down to open your book. But you paused, eyes glancing back to your unused bookmark. You flicked your head towards Jake, “I don’t—”

“Chapter twenty,” he said smoothly, before turning around and using your fumbling to rest his head on your lap.

“Enjoy the flattering angle,” you mutter, dryly.

Jake stayed silent, his gaze fixated on you, on the way your hair fell in front of your eyes and you constantly brushed it away and yet refused to pin it back. Or the way you very, very softly mouthed the words you were reading, ever so faintly, it’s barely a whisper. Or how you’d smile at the stories events before quickly controlling your expression so you don’t look like a fool, grinning at a book.

Jake sighed, brushing his hair back. “I guess the story’s interesting?”

You hummed. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He sat up. “Then pay attention to me.”

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, before settling back against the tree. “I would, baby, but I need to beat Yunjin at this month’s goodreads challenge. And I would have beaten her last week but—”

“But I dragged you to the couch for movie night—”

“Which I loved. Among other things that night.” You suppressed your smile.

Nudging your knee with his, Jake let out a breathy chuckle. “Shh, there’s kids running around”

You shook your head, amused. “What I’m saying is, I love spending time with you. So much so that I want you around even if I’m just doing something by myself. But you make it so damn hard for me to concentrate.”

Your eyes had completely left the page yet again, finding your focus purely captured by the comfort that Jake gave you whenever he was present, the kind of relaxation where you simply get to exist, side by side, and that’s enough. It truly was his fault that you were this distracted.

Though, he obviously didn’t think so.

“That’s on you,” his eyes shone with that cheeky charm that he seemed to never run out of. His fingers rested on your knee, tapping away as he spoke. “I can’t exactly just stay put like some loser when I have the most irresistible person for a girlfriend.”

You scoffed, “I thought you were the irresistible one.”

Your mind replayed memories of past instances where Jake would send you a smug grin, throwing his arms wide open, surmising that he was simply irresistible and you should just give in (translation: he just wants hugs).

Jake shrugged. “Well, I am. But it’s not like I’ve got monopoly over it.”

“Mhm.”

He watched as you, yet again, tried to concentrate on the novel at hand, to get some progress in your reading. But your competitiveness was faltering and he could see it.

On the one hand, he wanted you to win, for your own happiness.

On the other hand… “C’mere.”

“Hm?”

Jake leaned closer, cupping your jaw as he went in to kiss you. You knew there was no hope of finishing another chapter anymore. Let alone the book. Jake had this way of capturing your entire soul, of holding it in his warm hands, keeping it safe. The same way it felt to have his hands holding your face, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek, his tiny giggles unable to be contained between your kisses.

“You’re a jerk,” you whisper, smiling so wide that the implication of such a sentence made no sense in comparison.

“Right,” Jake leaned forward and gave you a quick peck. “But you know, if you’d really wanted to read today, you wouldn’t have brought me along.”

You nudged your forehead against his. “Fair point.”

The novel slid from hands, flat on your lap as you moved your fingers along nape of his neck. You’d just started pulling him closer by his chain necklace when—

“Hey mister!”

Jake flinched and looked to the side at the tiny irritated mass in light up sketchers standing a meter away.

“Your dog has my ball!”

“Oh shit…” You shifted back as you watched your boyfriend scramble to get up, cursing his clicking joints as he ran. “Layla!!”

“Guess you win this month, Yunjinnie.” Hurriedly putting the book back in your bag, you got up and ran after Jake.

a.n: third instalment of the kiss me, don’t say no series !! even if it’s officially feb 9th i’m holding off until i get up again in the actual morning to publish jungwon’s — skipping sunsun for now! sorry :( i just really wanna get jungwon’s out on his birthday !!!! anyway, i hope you liked this one <3

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey

2025 © yourislandgirl

[naomihatake]

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought. 

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head. 

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem. 

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them. 

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other. 

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant. 

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on. 

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her. 

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations. 

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss. 

God fucking dammit. 

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless. 

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie. 

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream. 

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him. 

Kuina. 

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep. 

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away. 

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts. 

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence. 

A witch, indeed. 

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest. 

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him. 

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it. 

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers. 

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves. 

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words. 

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures. 

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different. 

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it. 

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze. 

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered. 

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret. 

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through. 

The question made her shrug. 

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?” 

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight. 

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life. 

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking. 

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms. 

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.” 

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air. 

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.” 

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others. 

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought. 

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.” 

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience. 

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing. 

What was she thinking? 

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up. 

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles. 

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it. 

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.” 

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand. 

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened? 

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not. 

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore. 

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him. 

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome. 

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up. 

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him. 

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs. 

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it. 

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good. 

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago. 

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress. 

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea. 

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure. 

“Nightmares again?” 

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch. 

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again. 

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it. 

“Are you alright?” she blurted out. 

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking. 

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts. 

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.” 

“And you?” 

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.” 

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?” 

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile. 

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”. 

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages. 

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her. 

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements. 

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair. 

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better. 

She was a remedy. His remedy. 

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze. 

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad. 

[quillneriine]

Beneath the Surface (Chapter 2)

Optimus gets an unexpected visitor.

I contemplated whether to make a separate fic, but I decided to just make another chapter for this since it's genuinely a direct continuation from the last chapter. I do apologize though that technically I will still keep this as "Completed" cause to be honest I cannot be trusted to continue fics, and this is one of those fics that I genuinely wasn't sure I was going to continue. However, there is technically a plot, it's just a matter of getting me to write it.

I don't like leaving things on cliffhangers so I try to just make the endings vague/ambiguous as to what may happen next skskks but yeah hope you like this chapter, it gives more insights to what the Primes are and their whole schtick. Also if you notice the tags, yes I have now revealed that Optimus is Zeta and Alpha Trion's sparkling.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63873463/chapters/164757055

prev

“Has anything strange happened in the archives since last astroweek, head archivist?”

He stared up from the datapad on the desk, digits tracing the edge as he tilted his head to the side. His false Cybertronian face had an easy smile on it, the default expression that he had created for his head archivist persona. It made it easier for bots to trust him. Especially annoying bots from the senate who thought they could barge into his office without so much as an appointment.

At least his carrier had warned him to quickly transform into his Cybertronian alt before he could be spotted in his true form.

“No. Unless you count the occasional missing datapad, senator.” He chuckled, narrowing his blue optics. That really was a problem Optimus needed to fix.

“No strange energy fluctuations? No indecipherable texts in any of the databases?” The senator continued to trail off, their optics trying to maintain a level of strictness and authority that made Optimus want to laugh. He didn’t need to enter their processors to know they were scared. “With the sudden rust storm, the senate wanted to ensure—”

“I assure you, senator, that the Iaconian Archives is completely unaffected by the rust storm.” He kept an even tone, though deep down Optimus was fuming that what he was saying was true. “Every information is accounted for and the archives are functioning perfectly as ever.”

“Alright. You understand this is merely procedure, don’t you? The Iaconian Archives is one of Cybertron’s most beloved and oldest heritage sites. It also houses the entire history of Cybertron—” A lie. “And the senate deeply cares that it will not be affected by the rust storm. We haven’t had one of this magnitude in cycles. Actually… How long have you been the head archivist? I can’t seem to—”

The senator’s voice trailed off, his optics turning glassy as Optimus leaned ever so slightly forward. As the senator had continued to speak, one of the wires that made up his true form had slithered past the fake Cybertronian frame he wore and had lodged itself between the other mech’s plating. Carefully, Optimus tore through the senator’s processor - hoping to remove any of his fears so that he could get out of his office faster.

“I understand, senator.” Optimus let a genuine smile appear on his face. “I care so much for the archives.”

He loved his carrier so much, and he’d rather offline every bot in Iacon than let anything happen to Alpha Trion.

“Yes, yes… Well…” The senator shook his helm, blinking his optics as if he was trying to remember why he was there in the first place. “It appears you have everything in order here, head archivist. I shall take my leave. Please, if you find anything strange, anything at all, do not hesitate to come to the senate.”

Optimus nodded sweetly, waiting patiently until the senator stood up, disappearing behind the door panels. He let out a soft vent, leaning back against his chair as he closed his optics.

The senate needed to get off his aft.

He could almost hear his carrier chiding him at the thought, but Optimus was so tired of receiving their messages - and now a senator had chosen to visit.

It didn’t help that the rust storm was caused by one of the Primes.

Optimus tilted his helm, letting the heavy Cybertronian frame sag in the chair as his true form let loose through the panels. He never did enjoy being confined in it. 

Through the window, he could make out the heavy cloud of gold rust that enveloped the entirety of Iacon. It upset him more that because of the rust storm, he wasn’t able to see the statue of his sire. He couldn’t be too upset though because he knew this wasn’t an ordinary rust storm. His carrier didn’t need to tell him, every part of him knew that this was the doing of another Prime.

Since last astroweek, a heavy cloud had settled over Iacon, but rust storms were a naturally occurring phenomenon. What really unsettled most bots was the sudden intense feeling of being watched. Even Optimus, who was safe inside the confines of the archive, had felt that lingering gaze fall upon him before it disappeared. 

Honestly, it had excited him.

It meant that Prima Prime was awake.

It wasn’t brief lucidity from the stasis, but a full awakening. 

Even Prima Prime wasn't capable of this storm if he was locked fully into stasis. 

Optimus couldn’t help but grin.

Really, if the rust storm continued to worsen, it might break the others out of stasis. 

While he was always with his carrier and was never too far from his sire, Optimus wished to see them, not just have Alpha Trion as a voice and a connection, but to see them awake.

For cycles he’d felt so alone, unable to really bask in the presence of anyone like himself until Megatron - and even that had been short since he had to return Megatron to his creators. Optimus couldn’t wait to see him again though…

Shaking his helm, he tried to put his processor back to work. He had databases to organize and information to analyze. He knew this rust storm was Prima Prime’s doing, but that didn’t mean this would be the cycle that all Thirteen Primes would awaken. He wanted it to be but Optimus had to prepare himself for the disappointment if it wasn’t.

With one of his wires, he began to connect himself to the archives - switching off the lights in the office as he activated the curtains to automatically close around the windows, basking the room in darkness. 

He was just about to escape the false Cybertronian frame when loud banging from the door made him pause. Optimus’ wires shook, rattling in irritation as he forced himself back inside the heavy frame again. 

If it was the senator again…

He made his way across the room, his pedesteps loud and heavy as he forgot to maintain any semblance of his head archivist persona.

As the door panels slid open, Optimus had just missed the warning ping from his carrier before a punch immediately greeted him. He reared back, not so much in pain but in shock as a familiar silver frame pushed his way into his office, the door panels sliding close. Familiar yellow optics glared straight at him, though this time, they had the faint glow of gold.

Megatron stood right in front of him, his entire frame trembling. Though there was a look of rage in the other’s optics, Optimus could tell that the shaking wasn’t from his emotions. His legs were trembling, and as he took another pedestep forward, he nearly collapsed into Optimus’ arms as if he had forgotten the ability to even walk. Rough servos gripped at him, enough that Optimus was sure the other would leave dents.

“What in the name of Primus is wrong with you?!”

—

After an entire joor of Orion Pax - or Optimus as that was his real designation - trying to calm him down, Dee sat sullenly by the head archivist’s desk. It was still the same chair that the other mech - if he even was a real mech - had bought for him. His scowl didn’t waver, even as the other tried to bribe him with energon treats. No matter how starved he felt, he refused anything from Optimus.

He didn’t want to end up in the lake again.

“You’re the cause of the storm…” Optimus spoke up first before Dee could start screaming again. He had settled on top of the desk, his frame shrouded in the darkness of the room that Dee could only see his blue optics. It felt familiar somehow. As if they’d been in this position before, and if Dee was right, they probably had. “How did you get out of the lake?”

“How did I—” Dee could feel his processor start overheating. His HUD flashing warning pop-ups of an imminent breakdown if he didn’t calm down, but right now, he could hardly contain his rage. “The question, head archivist, is WHY in the pits did you push me into the lake? WHY did you leave me to drown? And… and this is very important, WHAT was in that lake?!”

He wanted to pummel the other mech, wanted to see the metal dent beneath his fists but Dee controlled himself as another burst of pain tore through his frame. He groaned, curling into himself as he tried not to purge his tanks. He hadn’t gotten a decent amount of recharge since last astroweek. Dee had been hiding in alleyways, trying to avoid the sick feeling of optics roving over his entire being. If he didn’t know any better, it was as though the presence was seeing right into his spark.

“Answer my question first.” He could hear the pout in Optimus’ voice, and Dee… he was tired.

He let out a shuddery vent, offlining his optics as he curled himself on the plush chair. Everything ached.

“After that… thing—” Dee stopped, letting out a small sob as the presence that had haunted him since he’d arrived back in Iacon pressed down against his processor, easing as fast as it had come. “After you… threw me in the lake. I couldn’t see anything but two blue optics. I felt a large servo wrap around me… my entire frame, as if any normal Cybertronian could possibly do that. The lake was murky and I don’t know if I went into stasis lock but at some point I must have went online again. There was something holding onto me and I just started fighting back. I don’t know what came over me but I… bit down on it and the shock of that must have made it let me go because somehow I made my way back up to the surface. I swam back to shore and made my way back to Iacon. My pedes are sore…”

Dee vented, recalling the long journey. It was mostly a daze since he’d been in excruciating pain for a majority of the walk back to Iacon, and by the time he had arrived, the rust storm had hit. He’d been surviving in Iacon’s alleyways, making a slow move towards the Iacon archives so he could confront the mech who had tried to offline him.

“Here, let me—” He heard the other shift closer, digits wrapping around his leg struts.

He immediately lashed out, gritting his dentae as his pede hit metal. He didn’t know if it had any effect aside from hurting himself. “Get your filthy servo off me, Optimus.”

The other mech tightened their grip, though as if thinking better of it, Optimus eventually let go. Dee let out a vent of relief, his helm sagging against the side of the chair. 

“I was only trying to help…” The other mech muttered, though almost as if he was talking to something else, and Dee realized that the overbearing presence had shifted off of him for a few kliks. “I won’t do anything… yet.”

A sudden fluctuation of energy nearly sent Dee into stasis. He pressed his helm deeper into the chair, that presence wrapping around him even more. More warning pop-ups rose in his HUD but he tried desperately to dismiss them. He didn’t want to go into stasis with Optimus in the room.

“Are you… going to answer my questions?” Dee gritted out, trying to focus on why he had come back to the archives despite the danger. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah! Sorry, Megatron.” Optimus let out an embarrassed laugh. Before Dee could correct him, the other mech had begun speaking again. Before, Dee might have been endeared by how quick the other spoke, but right now it was only making him more nauseous. “I told you, I was just trying to bring you back to your creators. Also, you can’t drown.”

Slowly, he reset his optics, narrowing them at Optimus who had returned to where he was sitting. He could hear the grin in the other’s tone as he continued, “And you know, for someone who claims to love the Prime mythologies, you really couldn’t recognize Megatronus Prime?”

A frown slowly made its way to Dee’s face, and he stopped himself from correcting the other mech that in his defense, he could barely see anything in the energon lake. “That… that was the Megatronus Prime?”

“Cool, right?” He heard the other mech shift closer, those blue optics glowing brighter. “I always wanted to meet him myself. Alpha Trion says he was the strongest Prime that ever lived.” 

Another fluctuation of energy, though this time much lighter as if the presence around Dee was not as angry as before. It didn’t stop him from nearly purging. He pressed a servo against his dermas, resetting his optics again.

“And what? Y-you think that…?” Dee could hardly wrap his processor around it. “Fine, I believe you, the Primes exist. Why not? Next you’ll tell me Primus also exists.”

The silence that answered him was enough.

He let out a frustrated groan, wishing this was all some sick dream and he would wake up back at the old apartment he shared with his late carer. “But I’m not… Optimus, I’m not like them or you. Because… you are… something else, aren’t you?”

“Awww, thanks Dee. I know, I am something else.” 

He couldn’t see it, but he just knew that Optimus was giving him that annoyingly endearing smile of his. Dee didn’t return it.

Sensing that Dee was not in the mood for his nonsense, Optimus let out a small noise. “Yeah, I’m not Cybertronian. We’re not Cybertronian. It’s… it’s a long story.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dee rolled his optics, pressing deeper into the chair. Even if he wanted to - and he did - he couldn’t go anywhere without that presence following him. 

“Not that I’d let you.”

“What?”

“What?” Optimus stared back before quickly moving on, “You know how the Primes were mythical beings that Primus created and they watch over all of Cybertron? Well… that’s what the Senate wanted everyone to believe. No Cybertronian would feel safe if they knew the truth.”

“What truth?” Slowly, the pain began to disappear, though his frame still ached. The presence still lingered over him but it no longer threatened to have him fall into emergency stasis.

“The Cybertronians worship Primus, how do you think they’d react if they knew that their perfect god made mistakes?” While Optimus sounded amused, he could almost sense a layer of hurt in the other mech’s voice. “The Primes were one of his first creations. He… didn’t like how they turned out. Too many optics. Too large. Too small. Too molten. Too wire-y. The current Cybertronians that populate Cybertron today are what he considered his perfected creations.”

He’d heard Pax lecture before. He’d always held a tone of indifference, as if there was a layer between what he was stating and what he truly felt. Here, Dee could tell that Optimus wasn’t speaking based off of a database.

“So the Primes, unwanted—” Optimus rolled his optics. “Went into stasis after a few cycles of being hunted down by the senate.”

Dee thought back to the lake, to where Megatronus Prime was, and shuddered. “You woke him up though.”

“Temporarily.” Optimus insisted, “I had to return you to your creators. You shouldn’t even have been in Iacon!”

“You’re here.” Dee raised a servo, pointing an accusatory digit at him. “What? You can break the rules, but I can’t?”

“My carrier is here.” Dee really wished he could see through the darkness, because he needed to see Optimus’ face. He couldn’t tell if the other mech was lying.

“Here? I don’t remember seeing any of those mythical Primes here, Optimus.” Dee couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I think I would remember if I saw some thing —”

He bit his glossa, pain shooting through his processor as the presence bore down on him again. He reset his optics and as he curled even deeper into himself, he felt servos reach out for him, slipping beneath him.

Dee didn’t have the capacity to protest as he felt Optimus shift him into his arms, carrying him deeper into the office. He pressed his helm against the other’s chassis, praying that he didn’t purge his tanks because that would really be the worst. 

He heard the hiss of door panels opening and light flooded his optics as Optimus carried him into an adjoining room. Gently, he felt himself be placed down on a table before the other mech walked back into the office. After a few kliks, Optimus came back with the plush chair, carrying it with ease.

As Dee’s optics adjusted to the light, he realized that… Optimus looked differently.

He felt nauseous as he noticed the unprotected cables that came out from the other mech’s frame, the wires slithering along the floors and walls as if connecting themselves to the wall.

He had accepted that Optimus wasn’t a normal Cybertronian but to see a glimpse of what he really was…

Dee didn’t think his processor could handle it.

Placing the chair down by a large holo-display of Cybertron’s map, Optimus came back towards him, carefully lifting him up. Then he was back on the chair, the pressure disappearing as the presence stopped haunting him again.

Dee glanced up as Optimus tapped against the map.

“The Primes went into stasis and the senate covered them up.” Optimus gave him a soft smile, gesturing around them. “The Iaconian Archives is Alpha Trion, my carrier.”

Dee reset his optics, static bursting from his voice box. “WHAT?”

Optimus pointed to another location. “The lake - Tronus Lake as most mechs call it - where I threw you? That’s where Megatronus Prime resides. The mountain, or you know as they call it Prime Mountain? That’s where Prima Prime is, he’s your sire and he’s here… Sort of. Watching over you.”

Dee could hardly keep up as Optimus began to list down places, some that Dee knew from lessons he’d been taught as a sparkling about some of the more famous places in Cybertron, and which Prime resided or was that place.

Mostly, Dee was still stuck on what Optimus had said about who his creators were.

He’d known that Terminus had adopted him, even when he was just a sparkling. It was the strangest story. When the Iaconian Orphanage had taken him in, they said he had been found by one of the mines near… Tronus Lake. A miner had found a crying sparkling and had taken him back to Iacon. Nobody could pinpoint who his creators were so he was placed in the orphanage where eventually Terminus adopted him.

Was he really…?

That explained a lot.

“...And the statue that’s the heart of Iacon? That’s Zeta Prime. He’s my sire. I visit him sometimes but unlike my carrier I can’t talk to him.” There was a sadness in Optimus’ voice as he finished, his blue optics casting down to the ground. “But… thanks to you, maybe I can.”

“Huh?” Slowly, he realized that the presence that had followed him from the lake was completely gone. His frame still ached and he doubted he’d be able to make it a few pedesteps if he were to run right now.

“I didn’t think this would happen, but thanks, Megatron!” The other mech approached him, wires slithering forward with him that he couldn’t help but lean back. Optimus didn’t seem to notice his fear as he leaned closer, grabbing Dee’s servo in his own. “I really only meant to return you to your creators, but I guess a part of you just didn’t want to go into stasis, huh?”

“Optimus, what are you talking about?” He tightened his grip on the other, realizing now in the light that even as those digits began to dent underneath his hold, Optimus’ face didn’t seem to show any pain. 

If Megatronus Prime was a… merformer… What was Alpha Trion?

What was Optimus?

“So, and this is really cool, on Prime Mountain there’s a small lake on it. It’s really cool, it’s a lake inside a mountain inside of a larger lake!” Optimus laughed, as if he thought Dee would find this interesting. “Alpha Trion said that Prima and Megatronus designed it that way because you were supposed to be in that lake. He… doesn’t know how you got out of that lake but I guess you must really hate being in stasis, huh? I get it, nearly got mechnapped myself when I was a sparkling because I refused to stay in the walls with—”

There was… a lot of information that Dee needed to unpack from that but he could think about it when his processor wasn’t still hurting and when Optimus actually answered his question. He let the other mech’s servo go, reaching up to grasp Optimus by the shoulder pads. He shook him hard, “What. Are. You. Talking. About?!”

Optimus shook his helm, optics resetting as if he was just remembering what Dee had asked. 

He hated that it was a trait of his that he still found endearing.

The mech tried to drown him but Dee still found him endearing.

Primus above he hated himself.

“You woke up Prima.” The other mech admitted softly, he turned his helm to the side, and they both watched as the rust storm outside slowly began to end. Dee should feel relieved but… something about it made his spark churn inside his chassis. “Megatronus Prime can’t go on the surface. Unlike you, he’s unable to transform into a form that can walk. He must miss you. I know my carrier would be upset if I were to go too far from him.”

“What does that mean?” Dee felt like he already knew the answer.

“Well…” Optimus tilted his helm to the side. “Prima has to come get you now. Alpha Trion says that Prima gets very emotional, and the strength of his emotions alone are capable of awakening the other Primes…”

Optimus grinned, as if sharing good news.

“It’s really exciting, isn’t it, Megatron?”

[alicerosejensen]

What about uhh Leon with a playful gf? Like in a childish endearing way. A child at heart and likes adventure :D

So, I’m slowly clearing out my inbox and answering old requests. In this case, I decided to make headcanons (I have writer's block).

There are no special warnings. Any version of Leon you want (for me it’s most likely Leon!Re4).

💙 Perhaps sometimes he will be annoyed by your behavior but rarely. His negative attitude will only manifest itself in moments when he is emotionally vulnerable (especially after a mission).

💙 Loves to fall asleep with you under these plush bedspreads but in a dream, he will involuntarily pull it over himself.

💙However, you will not stay without warmth. Leon loves hugging you very much, although you can already sleep, sleep won't come to Leon for a long time, so he will just hug you and look at all these plush toys and various little things that he gave you or that you bought yourself.

💙 I don't think Leon will fall in love with someone who behaves just like a child, but some mischief would give him hope that in this world he has something worth fighting for.

💙 He will buy all these cute stockings to please you.

💙 Leon doesn't really like different adventures because of his job, but if it's something harmless, then no problem. Sometimes he also wants to make a joke and cheer himself up by remembering that he is still a man and not just a slave to the government.

💙 He may sometimes feel uncomfortable in your apartment because of the abundance of toys, but again this is a temporary phenomenon. I'm more than sure that later he will buy you these giant stuffed animals himself.

💙 Leon will always be ready to go to fairs and various festivals with you (provided that he does not eliminate another threat in the form of bioweapons).

💙 If you have a little dog, Leon will even try to get along with him. Maybe he doesn't really like dogs, but from this little miracle he will also be touched and ask you to take him for a romantic walk together.

💙 Without any problems, he will allow you to make all these masks, scrubs, peels on it as a joke and even make some funny photos with you, but on condition that they are stored in personal archives.

💙 Leon will even help you realize your childhood dreams that you did not have time to realize at that time. It may be a small thing in the form of some kind of trip to a place that you have always dreamed of, or a thing that may no longer have any value and usefulness, but you still want to get it since you did not have it in childhood.

💙 He wouldn't have a problem shooting for you in a regular air rifle range, but if you really want to win on your own, then go ahead, baby. At least if you screw up completely, then Leon can save the day.

💙 You may even ask him to let you shoot with his gun (under his supervision, of course)

💙 He doesn't mind when you throw an arm or leg over him in a dream. Over time, Leon will get used to it so much that he will feel uncomfortable sleeping without your body parts on him.

💙 Leon S Kennedy are constantly teasing. This will often lead to him being hit on the head with a pillow, which can eventually turn into a soft battle.

💙 He likes quiet or slightly noisy evenings with you. He likes these old movies with delicious food or some sweets while the movie is on and you're sitting or lying next to him and gently fingering strands of his hair laughing or at least smiling at his ridiculous comments or jokes.

💙However, sometimes while watching, you can seriously start a dispute with him on any topic and take offense at not agreeing with him in opinions.

💙 Although these quarrels never last long.

💙 In any case, he loves you anyway and will most likely be the first to reconcile. Even if you act like a real kid sometimes.

[lesbicosmos]

day 6 of @painlandweek !!

day 6 prompt: free day!!

summary:

after edwin's confession, charles has a lot to think about. he finds himself watching edwin even closer than usual, and realisations happen. or a series of moments post-s1 that gave charles rowland a bit of a crisis

notes:

title from not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker

this fic was also a collaboration with the amazing @every-moment-a-different-sound !! they made these gorgeous gifs based on my fic <33

also on ao3!!

through your eyes i see a smile you bring to me

He’d been thinking. A lot. Charles Rowland didn’t do that. He was more of a ‘do first, think later’ kind of guy. He said what was on his mind, about most things at least. He made most decisions in a spur of the moment. He wouldn’t think twice before jumping in front of danger for someone he cared about – usually Edwin. And Edwin Payne was exactly the catalyst for Charles’s current intense thinking.

There were four facts he definitely knew:

Edwin was the person he loved most in the entire world.

Edwin was in love with him.

Charles’s instincts were, and had been for years, to make Edwin happy no matter what.

Charles didn’t want to do anything that might eventually hurt him if he was wrong.

Perhaps the third fact ought to have started some conversation about his own self-worth issues, but Charles decided to file that away for later. All he knew now was that he had to think this through. He had to be sure before he made a decision that could end up being stupid in the long run.

All this thinking had led Charles to focus on Edwin somehow even more than he had before. If he was in the room while Charles was supposed to be doing something, he would be distracted. If Charles was alone while he was supposed to be doing something, he would be distracted. It seemed that if Charles wanted to think through this as much as he should, he’d have to sacrifice his productivity in the agency. And as long as no one noticed or mentioned it, he was more than willing to do so.

In his staring, Charles had come to realise some tiny things about Edwin that he may have perhaps noticed before, but never really noticed. Like the way he would tap his notebook with the pencil while thinking about what to write; the way he would run his hands through his perfectly slicked hair whenever he was confused, or stressed, or embarrassed; the way his eyes would light up whenever Niko suggested they watch another episode of Scooby Doo. The one thing that wouldn’t leave Charles’s mind, however, is something he had noticed Edwin did around him.

He'd noticed it after the Night Nurse’s most recent visit. She was still bitter that she was being forced to oversee the agency in the first place, so had been her usual snarky self.

“I don’t know why I even agreed to help you two insolent boys. Oh wait, I didn’t agree to this! Please deal with this yourselves, I have a lot of paperwork to do!” she had said before she left the office.

She hadn’t physically used the door, but the annoyed way in which she disappeared from sight gave the implication of slamming it in their faces.

Immediately after she’d left, Charles had turned to look at Edwin, pursing his lips and looking down his nose at him in an attempt to recreate her bitchy expression.

“You two insolent boys,” he said imitating her high-pitched voice. “I have a lot of paperwork!”

And Edwin laughed. A real, genuine, from-the-chest laugh. And he smiled. It was exactly that smile that flicked some switch inside Charles’s brain.

Whenever he smiled around most people, it would be visible more in his eyes than anywhere else, his mouth only curling up slightly, his lips pressed tightly shut. Sometimes however, oh how his face brightened. Occasionally he would smile with his eyes and his mouth, showing his teeth in a glowing grin. It was beautiful.

It hit Charles that the only times he’d ever seen Edwin smile like that was when he was around him and him alone. It was as though that beaming grin was reserved just for him, and Charles savoured it every single time. He made it his death’s mission to make Edwin smile as often as physically possible. Every time he managed it, he felt like he had won.

Was it normal to think that way about your best mate’s smile? Was it normal to be elated to discover he seemingly has a smile especially for you? These were the thoughts that were currently doing laps around Charles’s brain.

The next time Charles found himself in crisis mode over Edwin was a few weeks later. They’d had a walk-in potential client, a young woman whose family had kept meeting unfortunate accidents in their house, who, after dying of a fall on their staircase, had discovered the house was actually haunted by a creature she suspected to be a poltergeist. They had heard her case, and were just onto the topic of payment when she pulled out an amulet, offering it with the explanation that it glowed in the presence of anything that had been in the presence of a demon. Notably, it was not glowing in the presence of either of the boys.

“Danielle,” Edwin began, in the tone Charles recognised as the way he always spoke when he was about to make a point and prove himself right. “You brought your case to us and we listened and agreed to take it, so clearly you trust us and our reputation. Hence, you should also have assumed that we, as supernatural detectives, have come into contact with demonic forces before. And if you hadn’t noticed, there is no glow in that amulet. It is clearly a fake. You really should have thought about that before bringing it to us as payment.”

Charles just stared at him, in awe. Edwin had done this many times, caught tricky clients in their lies as easy as anything. He’d done it with Emma when she’d brought Crystal’s case to them, claiming not to have any form of payment at all. Charles had always admired him when he did that, but now he really thought about it, the way he mesmerised him might have been for a reason deeper than simply ‘my best friend is so cool’.

“What?” the client gasped.

“The amulet is just a piece of jewellery. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“No?” she said, tearing up.

“Oh,” Edwin immediately softened. “Well, let me apologise for the last thirty seconds. It has happened a surprising amount of times over the last thirty-three years that we’ve had clients con us with claims they have a magical item to give as payment.”

“I didn’t know, I swear. It was the only thing I could think of to give because it was a family heirloom and my grandma had always told me it was magic. I’m just trying to help my family, please, my twins, they’re only four, they get into enough accidents as it is, I couldn’t bear for them to go through what I did because of that thing-”

“Danielle,” Edwin’s voice was so different from how it had been previously, no longer sharp and quick-witted but now soft and comforting. “I promise we will do everything we can to rid your home of whatever spirit it is that is lurking there.”

“But I don’t have anything else to give you-”

“We do occasionally take cases without payment, if the situation is dire. This counts. Do not worry about it.”

“Really? Thank you so much!”

“We are happy to help.”

Charles would have said something too, reassured her that they’d do the best job they could, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Edwin. Somehow, the switch to his comforting, encouraging voice had even more of an effect on him.

When Edwin turned to Charles after Danielle left and asked if everything was okay since he’d been oddly quiet throughout the interview, he just smiled, claiming he was aces. Technically, it wasn’t a complete lie, just perhaps not the entire truth. He didn’t really know how to say ‘yeah, I’m fine, I just can’t seem to stop staring at you lately no matter what you’re doing,’ without it sounding at least a little strange.

The staring thing didn’t go away.

It had been a very warm day – not that the boys could actually tell, obviously. They’d only assumed since Niko had sauntered into the office in a flowy pink and orange summer dress with her bright pink heart sunglasses perched on her head, closely followed by Crystal in a purple mesh top and brown shorts. Their assumption had then been confirmed by the hour of complaining that followed.

While Edwin insisted on staying at the office to finish researching about demonic fungi, Charles tagged along with the girls when they eventually got too tired of the heat and decided to go and get ice-cream. He knew he couldn’t eat any himself, but he liked going into town with them, it made him feel a tiny bit like a normal living teenager for a little while. He’d gone into town to the cinema or to the arcade with his friends often when he was alive – even if those memories now left a sour taste in his mouth despite the fact taste was one of the senses he’d lost years ago.

The girls had nearly finished their ice-creams by the time they returned, Crystal giggling quietly when she noticed Niko had gotten some on the tip of her nose. Charles was just thinking about how much he loved seeing Crystal so happy as they re-entered the office.

Charles immediately noticed the change in Edwin’s outfit. When they’d left, he’d been wearing his matching pinstripe blue-grey blazer and trousers, his bow-tie perfectly tied and straight. Now, he’d lost the blazer, and his bow-tie was nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt undone just enough to reveal his collarbones. The shirt, Charles also noted, had short sleeves. He’d never known Edwin to wear a short-sleeved shirt. He’d roll the sleeves up occasionally when they were working in the office, but it was always the same white long-sleeve.

Edwin had been more experimental with his clothing choices since his change of outfit in Port Townsend had gained him compliments from both Niko and Charles, but it had still always been some variation of his usual get-up – only slight changes to the colour scheme, or the fabric, or exchanging his blazer for a jumper. Charles had never seen him dressed this casually.

“Cool shirt, mate,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. Perhaps it was a strange thing to say about a plain white shirt, but he didn’t know how else to mention it nonchalantly. He was already using enough of his brainpower to focus on stopping himself staring at Edwin’s arms.

"Thank you, Charles,” Edwin said, looking down momentarily in that awkward yet endearing way he did whenever anyone complimented him.

“Oh, good,” Crystal said, halfway through retying her hair in a bun. “I know you guys don’t feel the heat but just seeing you in that jacket was making me sweat buckets.”

“Yes, well, I figured I might as well dress for the occasion, as it were.”

“It looks great!” Niko said excitedly.

Edwin smiled at her. It was different to the smile he gave most people, his eyes brightening even more than usual, like they always did around Niko. It still wasn’t the beaming grin he reserved just for Charles, though.

“How’s the research going?” Charles asked, trying to change the subject.

“Well. I believe I have all the information we need to identify which type of infernal fungus it is that is plaguing our client."

“Brills!”

With that, Edwin stood up from the desk, walking around it to put the book back in its very specific spot on the shelf. It was only then that Charles noticed it wasn’t only his shirt Edwin had changed – he was now wearing shorts, too. They were still the same blue-grey pinstripe, still the same formal style as his usual trousers, only now they ended just above his knee. He walked around the room as confidently as always, and Charles desperately tried to tear his eyes away from Edwin’s legs. But it seemed something had short-circuited in his brain, because he couldn’t think about anything else.

“Hey,” Crystal nudged him. “You good there?”

Charles snapped his head around to look at her.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Crystal just raised her eyebrows at him, then turned back to Niko.

He’d been thinking his love for Edwin might not be entirely platonic for a while, but the realisation well and truly hit him after they’d just wrapped up a particularly hard-hitting case.

A 14-year-old boy had come to the office. He’d recently died but had no idea how, his only memory being coming home from a friend’s house, walking into the living room to find his mother sitting on the sofa watching TV, then feeling a sharp pain on the back of his head. When he woke up, he was in an ambulance, and was now detached from his physical form.

After some investigation of the boy’s house, they’d found a metal rod in the back of the shed in the garden. And they’d caught someone going there once every couple of days to check it was still hidden. It had been the boy’s father.

Edwin had felt horrible having to drag Charles away from hugging the sobbing boy as Death arrived for him.

Charles had been quiet ever since. Edwin hadn’t asked if he was okay – he already knew the answer. He’d dropped onto the sofa as soon as they got back to the office, his head in his hands. Edwin had given him a moment, before he slowly sat beside him, giving him as much space as possible.

“Charles?” he asked quietly, tapping his shoulder so gently it was barely even a touch.

Rather than push him away like he had back near the lighthouse in Port Townsend, Charles leaned into the touch. Edwin tentatively shuffled closer to him until Charles barely had to move to lean further into his space. Edwin just pulled him close.

“Whatever you need, I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m always here.”

Charles let out a sob into Edwin’s chest, and he only held him closer.

And in amongst all the anger, all the pain, all the tears, the love he felt was overwhelming. He was breaking down, sobbing, finally letting out emotions he felt like he’d been locking away for years, and instead of turning away from him, instead of judging him or telling him to ‘man-up’ like his friends or his father would have, Edwin Payne just held him. And Charles couldn’t contain the intense love he felt for him. He’d do anything for this to never end, for Edwin to always be there for him and for him to always be there for Edwin in return. He wanted to stay in Edwin’s arms forever. And luckily for him, they had just that. They had forever, eternity.

They held each other until the sun rose, and talked about it in the morning.

Charles was reeling after his realisation. He was confident now. He just had to find a way to tell him.

The four of them were walking down the street together, finally just hanging out as a group outside of a case. He’d zoned out watching Edwin once again, his mouth slightly agape, this time imagining different scenarios where he confessed that he was wrong on that staircase while Edwin was several paces ahead, having been dragged towards a Scooby-Doo themed shop window display by Niko.

Crystal nudged him in the side from her spot beside him.

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve been weirdly…spacey recently,” she said, a concerned look on her face.

Charles turned to her, voicing the only coherent thought he had.

“I think I’m in love with Edwin.”

[daflangstlairde-art]

"Extremophile" 2/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 2: "feel better" 3266 words

Credits, warnings and additional info on ao3.

—

You don't listen to them when they talk to you. You don't even look at them. You only snap, like when Dust kicks you in the shin for ignoring him. 

You don't care.

You don't think about Dream. You don't think about Nightmare.

None of this matters anyway.

Pain and suffering was all you had to make you feel alive, and now you don't even have that. Hah.

—

“...K–”

“If the words that come out of your mouth aren't ‘I’m here to give you your soul back’, I’ll make it easier for you,” you interrupt him, “and advise you to shut the hell up.” 

And once again, Night falls into silence. He stands where Dream usually does. You don't even give him the courtesy of looking at him. 

You don't want him here. You made that expressly clear. In a perfect world, he returns your soul and then leaves you be so you can finally off yourself. In a slightly less perfect world, but still an acceptable one, he just leaves you be. 

You hate him so much it's more than you can handle.

You want to rip him apart.

Instead, he just keeps standing there. What a coward. He can barely muster up a few words for you. What a fucking coward. All that power and yet he's a weakling.

You hear him take a breath. Steeling himself. You want to ruin his resolve.

“...You haven't been reading my–”

“Yep, and I'm not going to.” you cut him off again. “Not unless that results in me getting my soul back.” 

“...I cannot do that.” Night says quietly, and it almost makes you laugh. You're too tired for it, however. 

What a joke though, huh? The almighty Guardian of Negativity can't do something as simple as returning an object that doesn't even belong– ...well. You suppose it does belong to him, in a way. 

It did, at least. 

You belonged to him. 

And now he's... like this. 

“Right.” you reply flatly. “In that case — au revoir.” 

Another pause. It’d be funny how apprehensive he is to speak to you if it wasn't so pathetic and, frankly, annoying. 

“...Killer–” 

“I’m too lazy to get up and force you out,” you bulldoze over his words yet again, no interest in hearing him out, “so be nice and don't make me, baby,” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him flinch at the nickname. Your grin widens. Good. He deserves to hurt a little. You hope it made him deeply uncomfortable.

“I merely wanted to say I’m sorry,” Night rushes out in an attempt to be heard. “The way I treated you was never acceptable and it never should've happe–” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” 

The silence rings deafening in the quiet that follows. 

That exploded from you in a way that surprises even yourself. You realize you are boiling. It's detached, but it's there. You shove yourself to your feet, grinding your teeth in a malicious grin.

You breathe heavily. The hatred and rage and desire for violence courses through you like liquid nitrogen. 

“Shut up.” you snap, staring at Night. He stares back, mouth pressed flatly, braced. There’s scarring over his right eye, like very wrongly healed cracks, making it mottled. Deformed forever just like Killer’s soul. He can't erase his — their — past, no matter how badly he wants to. “That’s not for you to decide.” 

He doesn't say anything. 

You stalk toward him slowly, blade already summoned to your hand. You want to make him bleed. You want to make him hurt. 

“I remember,” you start, voice coldly cheerful, “the way you would wring my neck until I couldn't even cry out. I remember the way you told me to attack my– subordinates, and I didn't even hesitate. I remember the way you would make me sob with despair–” 

“And it wasn't right–” 

“And I wanted every bit of it!” you raise your voice over his. He’s barely two feet away from you now. You wish he would cower away.

There was always something... larger, about Corrupted Nightmare. Something bigger than life. Something superior to you.

Night, the way he stood in front of you now, was lithe. He was small. It made you want to squash him like an insect. 

“I don't know how you're seeing this in your sorry little brain,” you mock, “but I’m not some victim. I chose every part of what you did to me.” you step closer, raising your knife. “I enjoyed it.”

Pressing it under his chin. 

Forcing it ever so slightly upwards so the little coward meets your fucking eyes. His eye lights tremble. You hope he's scared.

“Wanna know why, Night?” you barely have to raise your voice to be heard, with how close the two of you are. You hope he feels all the violent intent pouring from you. 

“...Why?” Night dares to prompt, even quieter. 

“Don’t you remember?” you laugh harshly, “I’m defined by my suffering. I breathe negativity.” 

Night flinches as you parrot his own words back to him. You can see in his expression that it hurts. 

Good.

“And that...” you idly trace the line of his jaw with the tip of your knife. “...made me perfect, you said. You gave me exactly what I needed. I can’t be ‘helped’ — your idiot of a brother may think otherwise, but we both know the truth, don't we?” you chuckle. 

Night just keeps staring at you, a twisted expression on his face. You entertain the thought of peeling it away bit by bit. 

“You're all I had, and I’m all you had.” you remind him. 

(I loved you at your worst. I’m the only one who did.

And you left me.)

It all happens in a flash — you've barely pulled the knife back before you slam it into his chest and he screams, but you're louder–

“And you THREW IT ALL AWAY!” 

Hands flying up to grab yours but you twist the knife deeper, shoving him back. Until you slam his back into the pillar behind him. 

He clutches at your wrist with both hands, blood streaming down his shirt. But he doesn't leave. He just takes it. Probably due to all that misplaced guilt. It's pathetic. You're almost disgusted to wound him. 

You wonder if he’ll let you kill him. He won't die from this, of course, it's nowhere near enough, though you almost wish the sheer harmful intent you packed into it was enough to make him keel over.

Oh how the tables have turned. Now it's you putting that look on his face and making him cry out in pain. How cute.

He stares at you, tears building in the corners of his eyes despite his set expression. You wonder if it's the pain from the wound or the pain from your words.

“I was ready to do everything for you,” you snarl, still grinning close to his face so he misses none of it. “But nooo! Little Mister Good Night wanted to play nice!” you jeer, ripping the blade out of him. He buckles and chokes on it, gasping for breath. 

You grab his hand roughly. 

“But you’re not nice. You can't be nice. You’re a monster, just like me. We know the truth,” you pull his hand up, and slot the knife’s handle into it, “Don't we, my king?” 

Night tries to jerk his hand back, and then again, but he still refuses to fight back against you. It’d be adorable if it wasn't so stupid. 

You just use your second one to forcibly press his fingers closed around the handle of the blade. 

And then you press that blade to right where your soul always sits, always bared and vulnerable. 

You lean close, until you can even feel the pain from the sharp tip.

“So here's your ultimatum,” you speak slow and calm. Quiet enough so your voice doesn't even echo, because this is personal. Between you and him. You’re grinning. “You can't have both cakes, baby. Either leave me be completely; or stop with your game of pretend, stop being a coward and finish it.” 

The silence is deafening. 

You feel the way your grin is stretched over your face, leering and dripping black. You listen to Night’s harsh, quick breathing. You watch the shake in his wide, wet eyes. 

What a fun idea Night had, coming here. You wonder what he was expecting to happen. Fool. 

“...I–” Night takes a breath, “I don't wish to hurt you any more than I already have.” he says, pushing determined resolve into his voice, even with how quiet and shaky it is.

“Oh, but dear,” you croon, and you wonder if it’ll work if you were the one to shove his hands in the right direction, “can't we do what I want for once?” 

Night shook his head, distressed.

You sigh, releasing him, taking your knife back. 

It won't work if the intent isn't there, so you can't do it yourself. What a disappointment. Although that isn't a surprise, when it comes to this version of Nightmare. 

“Go on then,” you wave dismissively, turning your back to him. “Leave.” 

And in a perfect world, he does. In a perfect world, the Void comes and claims you with its own hands.

“No.” your wrist is grabbed, and you pause. 

Slowly, you turn back around. Until you can once again see his face. Like a little mouse. It has no right holding all that determination all of a sudden.

“...What?” you hiss.

“I said no.” Night repeats, as if you simply didn't quite hear him. Raising his chin a little, eye lights flickery but holding your glare nonetheless. “I'm not leaving you again.” 

You stare at him. 

You spit a laugh in his face and he winces. You hold your face, and you start laughing so hard your head hurts. The harsh sound bouncing around the mess that became of this damned corridor. 

Well isn't that a funny joke? Never knew Nightmare is such a comedian!

“Laugh all you want!” Night goes on the defensive, trying to speak over your deranged laughter. “I know you hate being alone, I’m not leaving you, even if I can't help, I’ll send Dream, or Dust or– I know you hate being alone,”

“And that's why you ditched me, isn't it?” you speak over his words, through your own laughter. He still hasn't let go of your wrist. The contact feels... feels. “Discarded me when I was no longer fun to push around?”

Night cringes, clearly pained at the reminder. Reflexively squeezing your wrist. 

“Left me? In the Antivoid? Poor ol’ me, all alone?” you press deeper into the emotional wound. “Because you wanted to hurt me as bad as you could, right? Remember? What good times we had, Night-night!” 

“You're so–” Night mutters through teeth, and you laugh in his face. 

“I’m what? Callous? Mean? Evil?” you continue mocking, “Come on, saayy it! Hopeless, beyond redemption? Violent and unstable, a distorted freak, scum?” oh yes, you remember the pretty names he’s called you, always the romantic, “Am I still perfect for you, baby? Or is your little toy finally too broken to play with?” you throw it all at him like darts at a board.

You know it hurts because he cries. His expression is set, but there's silent tears down his face. The sight of it might just make the next day a little more bearable to exist through. 

Instead of daring to address any of that, however, 

“...You’re not beyond hope.” Night whispers. 

What a moron. Him and Dream really are twins, huh? 

“Hey, waste as much energy on that as you want. I don't care,” you shrug, “I don't care about anything.” you say airily.

“That's not true.” Night still doesn't raise his voice. 

“Right, because you know me better than I know myself or... something something,” you feign a yawn, “Soo you going to leave already oorr?” 

Now, Night’s hand squeezes your wrist intentionally. There's probably meaning to it. You don't care. You don't care. 

“I’ll be back.” Night states, quiet but resolute.

You don't dignify him with a response. You don't care enough to do so.

When he finally leaves, you exhale. 

And once again it's just you and the silence.

—

You're that sick and tired of this hallway to last for three lifetimes. You need a change of scenery. 

You need something to do. You crave it like a druggie. You need to sink your sharp magic into something soft, watch the life drain out, so you can pretend like you're soaking it up. You need the rush of it, the hit of raised EXP. You need the adrenaline of a fight. 

Or, at the very least, you need a change. The boredom is mind numbing. It's torture. It’s eating you alive. You feel like you're decaying with every breath.

You wonder if Dust’s offer is still on the table. Probably, right? Mm. One small issue, though. 

You have no way of contacting him. You only have company when someone else decides to come around. 

You settle for repeatedly slamming the back of your head into the wall. 

If you're in pain, maybe you're real.

—

Huh. Killer didn't think Night would dare show his face around again. But apparently he was a little more serious about the whole ‘not leaving you alone’ thing. 

Except... he did nothing. 

Killer didn't greet him back when he popped up, but Night didn't push. He just... sat down on the ground. Opened up a book. Started reading casually like he was in a comfy public library. 

At least he wasn't being a bother again. 

Killer avoided looking at him initially, but now, he observed. Just watched the way Night sat, legs crossed. 

He was dressed... proper. Fancy and regal, but far from anything grand — more on the simple side, a caplet with a clasp, that sort of thing. In purple. 

Killer watched him turn a page. Stance calm and easy. Like Killer wouldn't take every opportunity to hurt him. It was... annoying. 

“You really have nothing better to do?” Killer spoke up, almost surprising himself with it. But hey, even talking to this loser was more than the devouring silence. “No charity work? Fixed all the lives you ruined?” 

He watched Night intentionally keep his composure together, not showing that’d gotten to him. Killer knew he had, anyway. He chuckled. It was so easy. 

“There's always something to do,” Night said calmly, eyes on his book. “And right now I’m choosing to do this,” 

“Aww, you missed me that bad, baby?” Killer mocked. “Realized you can never fit among them? That they’ll always hate you?” he spoke cheerfully. 

Night gripped his book. Then pointedly relaxed his hands. 

“...I already knew that,” he said quietly. In the echo of the hallway it was audible enough. “And... I do miss you,” 

Killer fell silent. 

...That... hm. He huffed. 

That was stupid. That wasn't– he wanted to snap at Night to shut up. 

“Well of course you do,” he crooned instead, grin widening, “Who wouldn't want a brainless yes-man of a peon?” 

Night frowned slightly.

“...You're not brainless,” he countered, of all things. Hm. He wasn't rising to Killer’s bait. He was keeping himself a lot more level-headed compared to last time. Interesting. 

“Right, my mistake,” Killer mimed rolling his eyes, “I’m heartless,” 

Night’s gaze broke from his book, but he still didn't look at Killer, only to the side. Frowning lightly. 

“I...” he spoke, considering, “...I don't think you're that, either.” 

Killer immediately spat a laugh. 

“Oh so you've gone delusional!” he revelled, “We should call Dust and Horror here, get the whole Crazy Crew!” he jeered. 

“I’m serious,”

“I’m sure you are!” 

“You're not heartless, Killer,” Night insisted, Killer’s mockery only strengthening his defensive stance. “Dream told me what happened between the two of you. I know you felt his affective aura and you've always been able to feel mine–” 

“Woooww, I’m susceptible to emotions forced on me? You're right, I’m such an empath–”

“That's the thing,” Night now looked at him, closing his book. Oooh, getting serious? “Ink can't. He’s influenced only by his vials. Fresh is immune to our influence too — but you’re not. You can feel it, you feel it all,” 

Killer sighed, enduring the lecture with an almost familiar lack of care. Ahh, the amount of times he’s been scolded by Nightmare. Sadly this one probably won't end like those. What a shame.

“So what?” Killer shrugged. 

“I think,” Night spoke like this was far from the first time he’d thought on the matter, yet still treading carefully, “that... you could, hypothetically... feel on your own. You had the capability before, even if it has been a long time, right? It– it's like an atrophied muscle, you struggle to generate anything on your own, but the senses for it are still there–” 

“You have no way of knowing that,” Killer pointed out. 

Night paused. Squinted. He idly fidgeted with the top corners of his book, contemplative. 

“...You know what?” he chimed, “You're right. How about we test it?” 

Killer blinked. “Test it,” he repeated flatly. 

“Yes! Like an experiment,” Night nodded, a little livelier, “That would be at least a little interesting, right? We can bet on it, even, and it'd be a win-win for you — either you're right and you win, or I’m right and we can work on hea– recovering your emotional senses!” 

...What a nerd.

But he did know how to convince Killer. It was almost nasty, the way he used his intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Killer’s mind. 

It would be more interesting than doing nothing, though. And it would be a win-win for him. 

“Mmm,” Killer tapped a finger, acting indecisive, “A bet, huh? What are you betting?” 

Night paused again. “I meant it more figuratively,” he coughed. 

“And I’m making it literal,”

“Well what are you willing to bet on it?” what do you even have?

Clever, flipping it back to Killer. Night was showing his chess skills.

Hmm. What could he bet? Not like he had... anything, really. 

...But. There was something that Night had which Killer wanted. 

“...My soul,” Killer said, smirking. “If I win, you give it back. If you win, you can keep it.” 

And if Killer was right, and he was truly, provably hopeless, getting his soul back had an obvious next step. If Night somehow, ridiculously, proved to be right, Killer could hypothetically live with that. 

A win-win.

Night was hesitating. 

“...I don't–” he puffed an exhale, “Your soul is– that's too much. I’m not–” 

Killer cackled loudly, “Well then you better be pretty convinced in that little theory!” he prodded. “Come on, it’s my soul after all,” 

Night pushed himself to his feet, storing his book in his inventory. He took in a breath, let it out. 

“...I have a few terms.”

“Okay,” Killer indulged him, amused.

“You’ll also let Dream help. And you have to go about this fairly — give it an actual shot, don't just... shoot it all down.” Night kept his back straight as he spoke. 

“Sure,” 

“...Genuinely?” Night was taken back by his response. 

“Yeah whatever,” Killer shrugged, getting to his feet. “Win-win, right?” 

“...Right.” 

“Well?” Killer extended a hand. 

Night glanced at it, then at his face. Breathed in, breathed out. Steeled himself, committing to his decision. 

He strode closer, took Killer’s hand and shook it. It didn't hurt. Even Killer didn't take the opportunity to hit him with an attack. 

Alright then. Time to see how this unfolds.

[wisteria-lodge]

Assorted historical notes for the first chapter of my jedtavius fic (happy pride everybody...)

~ Romans took their public baths extremely seriously, and setting one up would be high priority for a garrison stationed out in the territories (basically the situation in these movies?) Nudity in the context of baths was just normal.

~ For some reason, Octavius wears his cape slung across his chest

instead of pinned to his shoulder(s) like a Roman cape.

If anything, this seems to be riffing on the 1600s half-cape, which is often strung cross-body like that in a sort of Renaissance *costume.*

Note: these are both modern historical costumes. It seems in the actual 1600s it was more normal to just sort of balance your capelet on one arm, or wear it over both shoulders (like when you wear a big coat without putting your arms through the sleeves.)

1600s capes are especially annoying to study, because basically all of them were tailored into 1700s coats, but WHATEVER.

(diegetically, since Octavius the tiny Roman lives in a museum, I guess he could be influenced by the 1600s cape costume, and just decide to wear his cape like that.)

~ “Sinister” is just Latin for “on the left side.” Couldn’t resist a latin joke, especially since Owen Wilson (and therefore Jed) is left-handed.

~ Roman orgies and sex parties were not really all that common. Like sure, they're brought up in the context of Caligula, Nero, Tiberus - the classics. But, your Roman writers historians and archivists were extremely political, and when you hear about this stuff there is always a political motive behind it, and almost certainly some exaggeration. Roman writers loved their gossip.

However, as a literary trope 'the Roman orgy' is extremely important. Most people in the buttoned-up 1800s saw Rome as this fascinating but immoral free-for-all, and we haven't totally shaken that off. And since Octavius is written as a slightly comic version of our current cultural idea of ‘Roman’... orgies are absolutely part of that.

(It’s the same reason I threw in the two-handed ‘Roman Handshake,’ even though as far as I can figure out, it was invented for a production of Julius Caesar in 1898. Romans seemed to just - shake hands.)

~ One of the interesting thing about the The Night at the Museum franchise is its interest in exploring the 21st century Idea of a Roman, the Idea of a Cowboy, the Idea of Theodore Roosevelt (even more than the historical reality.) It's a plot point that Museum Exhibit!Teddy knows that he's not Teddy Roosevelt, and kind of struggles with the symbolic importance people give to him. Octavius is very much a Movie!Roman, not a History!Roman. Even the fact that he's played by a British actor with a very British accent makes him seem like a background Roman General in Ben-Hur, here to deliver a letter, say "Yes sir, the rebels have returned from the provinces with new allies," and then die half an hour from the end to raise the stakes.

The exception to this is Ahkmenrah, who as a mummy that comes to life, is not a museum exhibit, he's just A Guy and *that's* the joke. He's not engaging with, or symbolic of 21st century tropes and stereotypes surrounding the idea of "pharaoh." He's just a person doing his own thing. Compare this to Kahmunrah from the sequel, who IS both a pharaoh and an exhibit come to life. So of course he's all about the literary tropes historically attached to the linked ideas "pharaoh, desert, villain." He's sadistic, he's camp, he's super queer coded, he's got a lisp, and he's putting our hero in a hour-glass death trap just like Jafar.

[ashes-goin-down]

Jealous Kyle, my beloved... A short Kyman fic.

Who exactly is that guy Cartman's always on the phone with? Kyle has answers. Unfortunately this is how Stan and Kenny must learn that their friend is completely insane.

“...so now I’m not allowed at the ‘Kesha’s Career’-memorial site anymore.” Cartman finishes telling them about his Sunday afternoon. “But why was the queen of Denmark there?” Stan asks with mild interest and a mouth full of peas. “Because-” Cartman begins but is interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Oh, that must be Lawrence!” Excitedly, he jumps up from his seat and quickly heads towards the hallway to take the call away from the noise of the cafeteria, leaving his three friends behind. Kyle briefly looks up from his English homework to watch him exit the room and rolls his eyes. “What do they have to talk about that’s so private?” Stan slightly frowns at him in confusion. “Well, you were the one who told him you’d break his phone if he didn’t stop talking on it at the lunch table.” “Yeah but”, Kyle waves him off with a dismissive noise, “you know.” Stan does not, in fact, know and neither does Kenny for that matter. However, neither are in the mood to spend another lunch period listening to one of Kyle’s tirades and so they decide not to ask for clarification. “Mhhmm mmh mm.” Kenny instead remarks. “Yeah, they talk like everyday now.” Stan agrees as he picks at his food, visibly uninvested in the topic but going along with it for the sake of small-talk. “Who even is that Lawrence-kid?” “They met in some online game.” Kyle explains somewhat absent-mindedly yet audibly annoyed, his eyes once again fixed on his homework. “His name is Lawrence Friedmann. He isn’t from South Park, though – he lives in a place called Crofton but goes to school in Norfolk because he’s part of some kind of gifted program there and he’s apparently kind of a big deal on their volleyball team.” Stan doesn’t say anything and Kyle notices that his dishes have stopped clinking. When he looks up his friend is raising an eyebrow at him in a confused expression. “What?” Kyle asks defensively. “How do you know all that?” Stan questions him perplexed. With a huff Kyle picks up his milk carton, shakes it around briefly and places it back down without drinking. “I had to make sure Cartman wasn’t, like, trying to make him eat his parents or something!” “So, what?” Stan attempts to piece the information together. “You stalked the guy’s social media to warn him?” Kyle frowns slightly. “He's really into conspiracy theories so he actually doesn’t really have any social media. Only a twitter account where all he does is retweet posts about the ‘Cornhuskers’.” Stan also frowns, visibly thinking. “Then how the hell do you know all that?” Biting his lips, Kyle concentrates on a particularly interesting sentence in his essay on the underlying themes of Hegelian determinism in ‘Young Sheldon’. “Kyle?” Stan insistently presses but he attempts to ignore his friend for a moment longer, deeply regretting having spoken up about this at all. “Kyle??” “He has no photos of himself online – no information whatsoever!” he eventually defends himself. “I even only found out his address by pulling an envelope from Cartman’s trash.” Stan stares at him in disbelief, visibly awaiting an explanation differing from the assumption that is forming in his head. When he’s certain that Kyle isn’t going to provide one, his eyes widen and he shouts: “You actually went to fucking Nebraska?!” Kyle urgently shushes him, quickly looking around to make sure that nobody is listening in on their conversation. He does not need Cartman to know that!

It’s a good thing that their table is routinely so loud during lunch that the other pupils don’t pay them any mind. Still, Kyle is thankful that Stan manages to calm himself down enough to lower his voice as he continues: “Isn’t Norfolk like ten hours from here? When did you even do that?” “Nine.” Kyle corrects him. “I went over the weekend when my parents had to take Ike to Ottawa for Canadian molting day. I took the Greyhound directly after school on Friday, stayed at the ‘Motel 6’ and was back by Sunday afternoon. It’s not a big deal!” He says the last sentence with much emphasis, as if it should suffice to end the conversation. Stan and Kenny make eye contact and a silent agreement that it actually is kind of a big deal. “So let me get this straight…” Stan turns his full attention back to Kyle and folds his hands on the table. “You rummaged through Cartman’s trash, drove a combined nineteen hours with the bus and spent a weekend alone in some shady motel just to tell some kid he likes to talk on the phone with that he’s a dick?” “I had to make sure that guy’s not actually a pedophile or a serial killer or something!” Kyle cries out, his voice the same volume he had admonished Stan for just a moment ago. “Wait, I thought you said you were worried about Cartman doing something to him, not the other way around.” Stan questions him.

Kyle looks at him silently, still frowning, and blinks a couple of times. “The point is-” he begins, scoffing as his eyes dart around the room. “If Cartman’s talking to strangers from the internet it’s our duty as his friends to care about his safety!” “I don’t.” Stan retorts bluntly. “Mmm hmm.” Kenny agrees. Kyle growls in frustration as he feels his face begin to heat up. “Yeah, well, it’s not my fault you two have no concept of common human decency!” he chides. “Dude, it’s Cartman. I’m sure even if the kid did turn out to be some kind of serial killer he’d be able to take care of it himself.” Stan takes a bite of his food and chews slowly before continuing with a full mouth: “Also, what are the odd that they’re both psychos?” Kyle grits his teeth. “Look, can we just drop it?!” “Mmmh mmmmhp mmph?” Kenny ignores his plea. “I didn’t… necessarily speak to him directly.” Kyle mumbles, avoiding his gaze. “You went all that way and then you didn’t even talk to the guy?” Stan asks baffled. “Then what did you do? Just watch him from the bushes all weekend?” Kyle doesn’t answer. “Kyle, what the fuck?!” Stan gestures his hands wildly. “I thought he might take it the wrong way if he knew some kid came all the way from Colorado just to tell him something!” Kyle attempts to justify himself. “You think?” Stan says dryly but his sarcasm gets ignored. “I left a letter in his mailbox instead.” “Mmmh mm?” Kenny asks curiously. Kyle awkwardly rubs a hand against his face, mumbling into his palm as he answers: “Mmmmmhm mphm mmmm…” “Mmh? Mph mm hhmm!” Kenny complains. “Yeah man, speak up.” Stan agrees. “We can’t understand you.” “It said...” he discloses through clenched teeth, “…‘Stay away from Eric Cartman if you know what’s good for you!’” “Mmmhmm.” Kenny states matter-of-factly with a slight shake of his head. Stan squints his eyes and presses his lips together tightly before speaking: “Kyle, I think-” “Shhh!” he shushes his best friend sharply as he spots Cartman making his way back to their table, then glares at both both boys across from him as he seriously urges them: “Don’t. Say. Anything.” They have no time to reply as Cartman is already plopping his ass back down onto the bench, causing the trays on the attached table to rattle. “Oh my God, you guys!” he exclaims enthusiastically, “Lawrence just told me the funniest-” “Nobody gives a shit about Lawrence!” Kyle interrupts him with unwarranted volume. Stan and Kenny exchange a wordless glance.

[gege-wondering-around]

For the sterek prompt:

Post s3 stiles keeps having nightmares and ptsd in his own bed, so starts sleeping at the now empty loft. Derek comes back to find him sleeping is his old bed~~~

Continue as you so choose if this inspires any ideas 🥰🥰🥰🥰

my sweet friend! this prompt, in its semplicity, gave me the hardest time cause i wanted to do it justice the right way! and sorry it took me so long to have it done! anyway, i had a blast with this and it went a bit out of control at the start, but i hope i lived up to the expectations!

here's a little snippet!

All went well regardless, until on a Saturday night a door was being pushed open. The boy was soundly sleeping, as usual as he always did in the wolf’s bed, uncaring and unbothered by the squeaking sound of the entrance being shoved ajar; the presence entering, although having no intention of harming the guest, felt slightly threatened the instance the almost forgotten scent hit skittish nostrils. Derek took enough steps to reach the middle of the living area, leaving the bag he had by the couch and following with interested eyes the scent he didn’t know how much was actually missing in his life; it took him a moment to realize that the fragrance of honey and lavender, which had his heart kneeled at wish, was coming from the sleeping figure on the bed. “Look at you...”  The man quietly, tenderly said as he stood, arms crossed and a small amused smile on his lips, in front of the sheets, admiring the tiny movements Stiles made in his sleep; it was clear in his scent the reason of his presence, therefore the wolf didn’t wake him up or had red eyes at the boy. He could read the promises and the worries, the concerns and the hopes; he decrypted all of them into a visible script in his mind, which he carefully read and upon taking it into consideration, knowing he’d be the sole carried of those words, he let Stiles be. Besides, his heart had the peculiar instinct of always driving him to the boy whenever he was harmed; at the sight, he had begun to understand why. Although, irises of jade stones couldn’t aver the tender gaze reserved only for Stiles, at whom Derek would never admit of doing just to protect a pride he was very little interested in maintaining at the sight; besides, after framing a few images in his mind, the wolf walked away to let the other sleep, taking the couch without much of an annoyed sound. However, after getting in a more comfortable pair of clothes and before allowing sleep to reach him, the man let a soft murmur leave his lips; a greeting was needed, or so he thought given the boy snoring softly in his bed. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

read it all here ⬇️

[impactedfates]

Hello! Is it alright if I request platonic headcanons for Dan Heng, March 7th, and Welt with a teen!reader who’s really calm and chill? They don’t cause trouble/chaos, has a really calming presence, easy to talk to, is mostly mature for their age, but they aren’t cold or blunt. They are nice but not naive, and they are quite observant + smart when they need to be, so they’re good at solving problems (reader is kind of like the calmest one on the Astral Express lol)

Please remember to take breaks and to stay hydrated! Your health comes first :)

A/N: Yes it's alright :D Thank you, I'll remember to take breaks and drink water, you will too alright?? I'm so sorry if this came out so late :sob: I didn't mean to make you wait for so long!

Genre/Trope: Platonic + Found Family (Express Family)

Format: Head Cannons (Separate)

Warnings: None

Extra: Reader slightly of taller then March despite being younger // Grandpa Welt <33 // Reader was also found in ice along with March

Dan Heng admires how calm you can be, even in stressful situations and is thankful at how observant and smart you are. Likely helping the group get out of certain situations due to it. You're rather different to the girl who was found floating near you in ice and he noticed quickly how you two were almost polar opposites.

He enjoys having another person on board the express who's calm and he's thankful you're easy to talk too. And that you don't mind how closed off he is himself, he's also thankful you don't cause trouble on missions or the express and rather you help defuse them.

He sees you as a younger sibling and makes sure you're being taken care of as well. Everyone on the express is his family and he will ensure all will be protected. This means you have to eat your vegetables, hydrate and sleep.

I see you two relaxing in the archives as you help him with adding things into the Data Banks when neither of you can sleep. And when you do ultimately fall asleep, he carefully carries you back to your room and tucks you in before continuing working himself.

Also, despite being younger then most of the express, you're more mature then a good few of them which are adults. And he's unsure if he should be concerned cuz of that fact.

March 7th is older then you, but she considers you her twin! Simply because you were both found on the same day, and even though everyone knows you're a teen so younger then she is. People go along with it.

She complains a bit about being shorter then you, one of the times she doesn't call you her twin. But she means well, all her little annoyances and complaints with you slightly being taller is a joke.

Anytime she's stuck on a puzzle she always call for you (And I mean like, those puzzles you buy in shops) and always watches intently as you figure it out.

She's of course aware at how calm and chill you are, and honestly. When you two first got to know each other she wanted to see what would change that. Pulling pranks and attempting to annoy you but not too much. Yet you still stayed calm.

She's very interested at how you're so calm in nearly every situations, now a days. She accepts it as you and won't try to break the calmness you have. If she's ever having a bad day, she comes to you. You oddly have an aura that helps her calm down.

When Welt saw not one but TWO ice blocks containing people in it, he was shocked. However wasted no time in saving the two of you. Just like March you seemed to have lost your memories and he's determined to help you find out your past.

He sees you as his grandkid, and was even a bit protective of you at first. However seeing your calm nature and how smart you were in many situations calmed himself down. He's still worried if you go on missions but he trusts that you'll be protected.

He's not that surprised you act so differently to March when you two were both in ice however he does find it amusing in a way. You're still a teen so even if he does trust you now to go on missions, he wants you to update him.

Just like Dan Heng, he's thankful you're not only chill but don't cause problems, also you're rather mature for your age, if you were older then he'd definitely consider putting you in charge of the train if Dan Heng wasn't able too take charge. Considering you're age currently, only Dan Heng is in charge.

DIWNDJFEHW. Hopefully I'll be able to finish the next requests in the following days, I feel so bad for not being able to write them yet :,)

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 7.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: Now we're getting into the nitty-gritty! Soldat is ready to start carrying out her mission, but will it be successful? Will Bucky catch on to what she's doing? Who knows! BTW, you can read it here on my archive account as well!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

-

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

rehab masterlist. chapter 6

The next few hours had been relatively uneventful. After the soldier had pledged her compliance, the people surrounding her within the lab had slowly back off. The Fist and Shuri were exchanging seemingly heated words just outside the lab behind sound-proof glass that the soldier could not hear through.

While the Soldier could read their lips partially, she couldn't discern exactly what was being said. The only thing the soldier could comprehend was that the Fist was seemingly offended by Shuri pledging to help finish the mission.

When they were done exchanging words, they both came back into the laboratory and stood in front of the chair that the soldier was sitting in. Shuri greeted the soldier, asking politely despite the frustrated furrow within her eyebrows.

"When was the last time that you ate a meal?"

The soldier immediately frowned, glancing down at her knees as she tried to remember. There were no memories that came to mind, and when she couldn't answer, the soldier clenched her fists.

"I...don't remember."

Her voice was shaky, unused to the English that slipped from her tongue, but Shuri's shoulders relaxed with hope as the soldier spoke. The Fist squinted his eyes, however, and the soldier almost winced.

He was not convinced.

Truly, it was to be expected. Just hours ago, the soldier told him that he was her mission. The Fist was right to be cautious, but it did not matter to her.

She would complete her mission no matter what the costs were.

"That is alright. Would you be willing to eat?"

"How does this help me to complete my mission?"

The Fist and Shuri shared a look with each other before the Fist stated, making the soldier look up at him with an unconvinced sneer flashing across her face.

"You want to take me in, you need to be strong enough to do it. The more you starve, the weaker your body becomes."

His voice was slightly annoyed, his posture revealing his unease, and the soldier glanced back down at the untouched food. It was a different meal than what Shuri had attempted to give to her before, and it was extremely simple. The Soldier tilted her head slightly, and she leaned forward slightly to sniff it.

"It is called Isidudu. It's just porridge with some brown sugar, butter, and sweet milk."

The soldier simply frowned at it, and Shuri hummed gently, crossing her arms.

"You have permission to eat."

Flicking her gaze to Shuri, the two of them shared a look before the soldier glanced back down at the food. Slowly grabbing the spoon, the soldier scooped up the creamy food and began to hesitate.

Her hand was hovering over the plate, some of the porridge dripping off of the spoon. The soldier's body began to stiffen; her hand trembling as she held the handle of the spoon tight enough within her grasp to bend the metal.

There was a lump in the back of her throat, nausea beginning to plague her, and the soldier couldn't help but to glance at the door; waiting for her Handler to come in and punish her for even touching the spoon. She was unsure of why her tongue felt so heavy and thick-as if it did not belong to her, and the soldier became nervous.

The soldier could not help the tears that filled her eyes as she stared at the food, shaking and unsure, and she was slightly startled when Shuri sat down across from her; her tone gentle like a mother comforting their child.

"Isithunzi, it is alright. You do not have to be afraid. We will not punish you for eating."

The soldier was confused and unsure, her brows furrowed, and the soldier glanced back down at the spoon within her hand for another long pause.

The soldier could not deny that she was waiting for the reprimand; the hand raised in warning to strike her for having the audacity to even acknowledge the hunger, but her stomach was rumbling painfully to the point the soldier could no longer refuse.

The soldier swallowed thickly before she slowly took a bite, and flavor burst upon her tongue. The porridge was sweet and creamy, the milk adding a flavor that the soldier could not describe, and she carefully swallowed.

Despite the taste and enjoyment that soldier found from the meal, there was guilt eating away at her; cutting through the fog of her mind. She shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have eaten this. The soldier began to tremble more, and Shuri encouraged her.

"You're doing great, but you don't have to eat if you don't want to. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

The soldier glanced up at the Fist briefly, and she noticed that he was gazing at her with a slightly far-away look within his eyes. When the Fist noticed that she was looking at him, though, he seemed to tense. The soldier looked away, and she slowly began to eat despite the guilt that was eating away at her like maggots eating an infection.

"Isithunzi, I would like for you to answer some questions for me if you can. Are you up for that?"

The soldier was quiet, rolling the food around within her mouth before swallowing; warmth blooming within her belly as the food began to satiate and ease the hunger and pain. She nodded, then, making Shuri smirk at the Fist with a haughty look that made the man roll his eyes.

"Do you have any memory of who you were before you were with HYDRA?"

The soldier paused, shaking her head slowly after careful consideration of her answer.

"I was...born into HYDRA."

Shuri tilted her head slightly, and the Fist sat down after a moment, asking her instead with a sassy tone to his voice.

"Is that what they made you believe?"

The soldier could tell that he was frustrated and becoming hostile, making alarm bells sound off, and Shuri scolded the man in Xhosa before glancing back at the soldier.

"He has not had his daily bottle today, I am sorry."

The Fist shot Shuri an annoyed look, but Shuri did not pay attention to him. Instead, she brought up a couple holographic images that made the soldier pause in eating, eyes wide with wonder. It was a list of CIA emblems for every directorate the agency had, and there was one that stood out to the soldier, though she did not indicate as such.

"Do any of these emblems look familiar to you?"

The soldier frowned for a moment, perplexed by the question, but slowly pointed to the emblem of the Directorate of Science & Technology. The Fist became intrigued, asking her as he leaned forward.

"What do you know about this?"

The soldier looked away, whispering shakily.

"I...dreamed. Places...a-and people...I...I don't...know..."

Her voice trailed off. She was not supposed to dream; to remember. She was frightened; afraid to mention this in fear that they would take the memories away, and the soldier became closed off. Shuri noted the way that the soldier became uncomfortable, and she praised her gently.

"That was good. You did well, Isithunzi."

"This is not relevant to my mission."

The words were almost robotic, and there was a strange feeling of shame that came from the words. Shuri and the Fist shared a look together, and Shuri shook her head.

"Oh, but it is relevant. We will explain to you why in due-time. Would you...be able to explain to me why it is difficult for you to eat?"

Traumatic memories flashed through the soldier's mind, and the tears welled up in her eyes again as she stared down into the porridge below.

"Hunger...is weakness. It serves no purpose to the mission. It is not to be indulged in unless given permission. It is strictly allowed only due to performance decline. There are...consequences...for displaying such weakness outside of absolute necessity."

Shuri shook her head slightly, and the soldier could see the Fist clench his jaw. The soldier could not tell if her answer pleased or upset the woman, but the soldier was aware that Shuri was becoming heated by the way her lips pursed.

"Well, you are allowed to eat whenever you would like to. In fact, eating more will help you to become stronger, which will allow you to complete your mission when it is time."

The soldier stayed quiet, staring down at the empty bowl in front of her before she whispered, her tone shy and unsure.

"I...am allowed to eat...whenever?"

"Yes. Whenever you want to."

The soldier then slowly pushed the bowl towards Shuri, which made the princess smile with amusement.

"May I...have more?"

Shuri nodded, and she stood up along with the Fist.

"Of course. Sergeant Barnes and I will be right back. It should not take long."

The soldier did not respond, however. Instead, the soldier was gazing long and hard at the emblem she had pointed out; looking perplexed as she tried to place the symbol within her memories.

(Y/n).

Who was (Y/n)?

Who was she?

-WITH BUCKY-

"I'm not really convinced."

Bucky was standing with his arms crossed as him, Shuri, T'Challa, and Okoye stood within a room just beyond Shuri's lab. There was a live hologram of Steve, Natasha, and Tony situated across from them, the three Avengers looking annoyed.

Tensions were high as the group discussed the soldier; topics ranging between her rehabilitation to her apparent mission and how Bucky wasn't entirely convinced by the soldier's behavior.

"She went from trying to throw knives into our heads and fighting to suddenly being complacent and accepting of our help. Seeing as I used to be her, I can tell you that she is bluffing. She's only trying to win our trust so she can strike when the opportunity arises."

Natasha nodded gently, quirking her eyebrow up as she responded.

"It's a good strategy."

Steve gave Natasha a dirty look before turning it towards Tony as Tony spoke, the man looking nonchalant and shrugging as he popped a couple blueberries into his mouth.

"Okay, then why not just call her out on that? The woman's already in captivity, so you might as well pop that cherry."

Shuri shook her head, muttering.

"I am the only smart one here. What a burden!"

Bucky did not miss the way Okoye snorted to herself, and the princess spoke firmly to Tony, stating.

"If we call her out on her lies, there is a possibility that she will become hostile enough to retrigger the programming. While I have placed blocks to ensure that it won't occur so soon, it would be senseless to place safeguards for nothing, and I am not wasting such complex yet delicate work."

She then huffed, crossing her arms while popping her hip out sassily; glaring at Tony with no hesitation.

"The best plan that I have is to rehabilitate her enough to give her a sense of self outside of being a Winter Soldier, and I am doing that by manipulating her into believing that what we are doing is to help her complete her mission."

Steve asked, frowning.

"What exactly is her mission?"

Bucky answered, shrugging.

"We don't know. She didn't say. She just indicated that I was her mission and that was all."

Bucky didn't miss the recognition that came across Steve's face, and the Captain asked.

"Do you think HYDRA put a hit on you before they disbanded and she's following that blindly? Is she aware that HYDRA is mostly eradicated?"

T'Challa cut in before Bucky could respond, shaking his head slightly.

"If she was given orders before she was put under, then it is possible that there is someone else that is waiting for her return. This is the best way to gain information without giving Sergeant Barnes to the enemy."

Bucky nodded, adding with a clench of his fist.

"In one of her memories, I recognized someone: Jack Rollins. He seems to be her handler."

Natasha and Steve shared a look together, and Tony stated.

"Okay, that's a start. If we can find Rollins, maybe we can find out who our Winter Soldier actually is. Do we know where Rollins was last seen?"

Natasha replied, shrugging.

"At the World Security Council at the Triskelion when Fury and I busted Alexander Pierce for being HYDRA. He was supposedly arrested, but given HYDRA's amazing ability to be everywhere and nowhere at once, I wouldn't be surprised if he was broken out."

T'Challa nodded, an expression of dread ghosting across his face before he quickly corrected himself, giving the three Avengers a determined face.

"I shall have Shuri run her biometric recognition programs while we continue to monitor and rehabilitate the woman. We now have confirmed that she knows the Directorate of Science & Technology, so that narrows our search down considerably."

Natasha muttered to Steve quietly, not realizing the mic was still able to pick up her voice.

"Scientist from the CIA? That always gets HYDRA's rocks wet."

"Natasha, we can still hear you."

Bucky was annoyed, and Natasha just made a face of mock surprise before shrugging, a ghost of a smirk on her face.

"I'm sorry, I thought I would lighten the mood."

In the back, Okoye muttered to herself.

"Americans."

Tony clapped his hands together, swallowing a large portion of blueberries as he surmised.

"Alright, so we get to Rollins, see what the deal is with this woman, get our Manchurian Candidate 2.0 no longer wanting to kill people, and we live happily ever after. Sounds like a good plan. Good talk, everyone, your participation is greatly appreciated."

Tony left the frame, and it was only Natasha and Steve left. Shuri couldn't help but to ask.

"Is that what he is like all of the time?"

"Unfortunately."

Steve replied before sighing, rubbing his temples before he said.

"While getting to Rollins is a good idea, it's not likely that he will talk when we do find him. If HYDRA is good at anything, it's keeping information as hidden as possible. I don't doubt that Rollins would be willing to do anything to make sure the information about the Winter Soldier, and any other possible ones, is kept quiet. We'll go ahead and keep looking through the data that we have here while Tony runs his facial recognition programs as well."

Shuri nodded before offering as well.

"If it's any consolation, we did make some great progress with our soldier, so I do believe that we are on the right track. We just need to be careful about how we move forward. If we can just establish some sort of trust, then perhaps the road to rehabilitation will be easier."

Steve nodded and he praised gently.

"You're doing amazing work, Princess Shuri. I really appreciate what you're doing, and what you did for Bucky, too."

Shuri smiled and waved her hand dismissively.

"Please, this is not only fun but a learning experience as well."

T'Challa nodded before he added.

"As we stated: we must move forward carefully now that progress has officially been made. While Shuri's safeguards are in place, they will not last long, and we do not know what will happen if they disintegrate before Isithunzi is rehabilitated enough to understand that what she is doing is wrong and HYDRA is not the good guy here."

Natasha then asked, a curious look upon her face as she stared at the King.

"Okay, then how long do we have until those safeguards disappear?"

"Without extreme emotional duress, the safeguards will be active up to a month. However, if the soldier experiences any duress during her time here, it can weaken the safeguards enough to last only a few weeks. Truly, it is dependent on Isithunzi...as well as a few other factors."

Bucky knew that Shuri was referencing him, and he could feel his shoulders drop slightly. Natasha just nodded along while Steve responded with a hopeful expression.

"Hopefully it doesn't have to come down to a fight. I just know that we're going to be successful....we have to be."

"What if you are wrong, Captain?"

T'Challa challenged Steve with a pointed look, and Steve sat back in his seat a little.

"What if you are wrong, and there is nobody beneath the rubble? What will you do then?"

"Keep digging."

Steve was firm, and though Bucky wanted to disagree, he knew that Steve was set in his plan. That's just who Steve was: fighting for the little guys. Bucky couldn't help but to shake his head, muttering affectionately and quietly.

"You're such a punk."

"Right back at ya, pal."

The video feed disappeared, and T'Challa glanced back at Bucky. Bucky looked up from his feet to meet T'Challa's gaze, and T'Challa sighed slightly; relenting his gaze to look at Shuri.

"While you work with Isithunzi, Sergeant Barnes and I will work on finding Rollins. Okoye will stay with you."

Okoye immediately stood next to Shuri while the princess hummed, raising a brow.

"You mean you are going to use my programs without me in the room? Am I nothing to you?"

"Oh, stop."

Shuri and T'Challa shoved each other gently before doing the Wakandan salute, and Shuri glanced at Bucky.

"I will let you know if there is any progress or issues alike."

Bucky nodded before he shrugged.

"Alright, let's get to work then."

-

STORY NOTES: After pledging her compliance, Shuri and Bucky seem to have a heated discussion about Shuri agreeing to help the soldier with her mission. When they both reconcile and come to an understanding, they decide to try to get the soldier to eat a meal again. When Shuri questions the soldier and asks her when she last ate, the soldier cannot answer. The soldier retaliates, asking how eating would help her with her mission, and Bucky replies that she needs to be strong if she wants to bring him back to HYDRA. The soldier then relents, trying an Xhosa meal called Isidudu.

The soldier then attempts to eat, though her bites are filled with hesitation and regret for her actions. She becomes afraid, unable to hide her fear of eating, and Shuri comforts the soldier before beginning to question her about her previous identity before HYDRA. The soldier indicates that she was born into HYDRA, which Bucky quickly quips about much to Shuri's chagrin.

Shuri then shows the soldier a list of CIA emblems for each branch, asking if any of them are familiar to the soldier, and the soldier points out the Directorate of Science and Technology emblem. Bucky becomes intrigues, but when he further questions the soldier, the solider becomes withdrawn in fear of being punished for remembering.

She becomes hostile after Shuri praises her, stating that what they are talking about isn't relevant to the mission, and Shuri vaguely replies in turn. Shuri then asks why the soldier is nervous when it comes to food, in which the soldier explains that HYDRA has instilled into her that food is a luxury that must be earned. Shuri encourages the soldier to eat whenever she wants to, indicating she has autonomy and freedom to eat, and the soldier shyly asks for more food after.

After retrieving another portion of food for the soldier, Bucky and Shuri attend a meeting with T'Challa, Okoye, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff about the soldier. Bucky reveals that he isn't convinced by the soldier's act, and points out that the soldier is only bluffing so that she has an advantage to complete her mission. Tony then asks why they do not call her out on the lies, and Shuri reveals that she is manipulating the soldier as well. She explains that if she can establish some sort of trust and get the soldier enough rehabilitation to formulate a sense of independence and autonomy from HYDRA, then the soldier may be more likely to leave HYDRA.

Bucky recalls the man from the soldier's memories as Jack Rollins, who Natasha and Nick Fury had run into during the Project Insight incident with Alexander Pierce. Since he was last known to be alive, Tony and Shuri elect to run biometric recognition programs all around the globe to try to find the man.

The avengers further discuss the safeguards that Shuri has placed, and she reveals that as long as the soldier doesn't experience extreme emotional duress, the likelihood of her programming being triggered is low. However, the safeguards are not meant to stay active for long, and there is a maximum of a month until the safeguards wear off.

TRANSLATIONS:

Isidudu - a creamy porridge made with mealie meal. It is a common breakfast in Xhosa and Zulu households.

Isithunzi - Xhosa for shadow/shade, the Soldiers nickname

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