#i keep burning my bridges down just to keep you alive… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belit0 · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do some headcanons about the Uchiha men getting drunk, shouting from the rooftops how much they love their S/O, and not remembering it the next day?

These men losing control… delight

Indra

Unlike the others, Indra does not stumble around shouting his love like a fool. No, his drunken state manifests in something far more terrifying—control.

He summons his entire village, warriors and civilians alike, assuming he is about to give an important war directive. No one dares to disobey.

His expression is severe, unreadable. His arms are crossed, his presence as oppressive as ever. The villagers feel an impending sense of doom, half-expecting him to announce an incoming invasion.

(Y/N) arrives, confused and horrified, just as Indra begins his speech—an intense, unyielding, deeply poetic declaration of his love for her.

-There are things in this world that can never be undone. The tide will rise, the sun will fall, the gods will claim what they believe is theirs— His voice is measured, terrifyingly serious, carrying the weight of something irrevocable.

The villagers stand frozen in fear. Some look ready to kneel. Others wonder if they should be sharpening their blades.

-And yet, should any divine hand dare to reach for what is mine, I will break them.- Gasps. Horrified stares. Someone might actually faint.

-Fate itself may weave its threads, but should it attempt to sever this bond— His gaze shifts to (Y/N), eyes locking onto her like an unshakable vow. —I will tear it apart, thread by thread, until destiny itself bows before me.-

The villagers are absolutely petrified. Is this a declaration of war against the gods...?

-The moon may watch over her, the gods may whisper her name, but let them try to take her from my grasp.- His jaw tightens, fingers flexing as if already prepared to strike down the heavens themselves. Absolute silence. No one moves. No one breathes. (Y/N) wants the earth to swallow her whole.

-Did—did Lord Indra just declare war on the gods? Over a woman?- someone whispers in horror.

The next morning, (Y/N) confronts him.

-You don’t remember, do you?- she asks, arms crossed.

Indra narrows his eyes. -If I said it, I meant it.-

She groans into her hands.

Madara

Madara rarely lost control, but when he did, he went all out.

He stood on the rooftop, mad and aggressive, arms wide open, Sharingan active, shouting at the entire district, -I LOVE HER, I CLAIM HER, I TAKE HER. I, UCHIHA MADARA, LEADER OF THE UCHIHA CLAN, CLAIM THIS WOMAN, MY WOMAN, FOR THE ETERNITY OF TIME. ANYONE WHO THINKS OTHERWISE—COME, FACE ME IN BATTLE!-

A horrified (Y/N) tried to drag him down, but he dramatically turned to her, gripping her shoulders. -You don’t understand, woman. The world must know... they! I! ... I would burn it down if it meant keeping you safe!-

Izuna, equally drunk, cheered from the ground, -HELL YEAH, BROTHER!-

The next morning, Madara woke up with a pounding headache.

-My... -huh- my throat... hurts...-

-Might be because you spent two hours shouting about how you’d fight the entire world for me.-

-Ah... worth it....-

Izuna

Izuna gets extra theatrical when drunk. And he loves to put on a good show.

-EVERYONE LISTEN! I, IZUNA UCHIHA, AM THE LUCKIEST MAN ALIVE! DOESN'T MATTER HOW MANY WOMEN PASSED THROUGH THIS BODY, THAT GIRL, THAT WORK OF ART STANDING THERE, IS MY OWNER, THE GODDESS I WORSHIP, DEDICATE MYSELF TO, AND OWE EVERYTHING TO! THE VERY IZUNA HAS FOUND TRUE LOVE!-

He nearly fell off the roof in his dramatic declaration but caught himself last minute, pointing at (Y/N) with glassy, determined eyes. -SHE. IS. PERFECT. LOOK AT HER. HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A WOMAN SO STUNNING? SO FIERCE? SO—SO VIOLENTLY BEAUTIFUL?-

He stands there expectantly, seeking applause and recognition, lacking the basic ability to notice the scene he is creating in front of everyone. Even Madara remains silent, pinching the bridge of his nose.

(Y/N) tries to disappear, but it is her brother-in-law who stops her and whispers, -If I must endure this calamity for being his older brother, you must as well, for being his wife.-

When some unfortunate soul murmured something about her being too good for him, he leaped down, tackled them, and demanded a duel on the spot.

The next morning, he woke up bruised and confused.

(Y/N) stared down at him, unimpressed. -You challenged a civilian to a fight last night.-

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. -…Did I win?-

Obito

Drunk Obito = hysterical, emotional wreck.

He clambered onto the rooftop, tears in his eyes, clutching his chest like a lovesick poet.

-(Y/N)!- he screamed, voice cracking. -HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY? YOU’RE—YOU’RE—!- He choked on his own breath, wiping at his face, completely overwhelmed by his own feelings.

He is a mess of snot, strength, height, and emotional fragility. His screams crack into childlike sobs, generating mixed reactions from the audience watching him. Many do not understand his words, as coherence has abandoned the scene since his first drink.

-(Y/N), I love you so much I think I might actually die!-

When she tried to pull him down before he embarrassed himself further, he collapsed into her arms, clutching at her clothes, sobbing. -DO YOU LOVE ME TOO? PLEASE SAY YES, I DON’T THINK I CAN HANDLE IT OTHERWISE—

The next morning, he woke up, eyes swollen, shirt mysteriously missing.

(Y/N) just shook her head. -You cried so much I thought you’d dehydrate and die in my arms.-

Obito turned bright red, horrified. -…I think I need to leave the village.-

Shisui

Shisui? Loud.

-I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER!- He chanted from the rooftops, dancing, spinning, absolutely reveling in his own joy.

Even jumps down at one point, landing clumsily and holding onto the shoulders of a poor stranger. He starts shouting at him, shaking him, illustrating to that poor man the immeasurable extent of his love for her -YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! JUST- JUST LOOK AT HER, SIR! PLEASE-

And although his mind is lost in the alcohol, his body has the clumsy reflexes of a ninja defeated after days of war. When (Y/N) is about to catch him, he uses his Shunshin to move back to the roof, dramatically disarming himself in his joy and love for her.

-(Y/N), YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU!- He pointed at random villagers. -LOOK AT HER! SHE’S A GODDESS! A QUEEN! A BLESSING UPON THIS EARTH!-

When she finally climbed up to stop him, he grabbed her and twirled her around, beaming.

-I CAN’T BELIEVE I GET TO LOVE YOU! ME! THIS UGLY, LUCKY FOOL! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE YOU?!-

The next morning, he woke up, zero recollection.

-(Y/N), why are my legs sore?-

She sighed. -You danced on the rooftops for two hours.-

He groaned. -…Did I at least look good doing it?-

Itachi

Itachi, usually quiet and composed, was dangerous when drunk.

-I must tell her.-

-Itachi, no—

-I must tell her NOW.-

He vanished in a blur of movement, reappearing on the rooftop.

-(Y/N),- he called, smooth, intense, unwavering.

The way he said her name made everyone stop and listen.

-I am yours,- he said, as if reciting a sacred vow. -Utterly, completely, eternally. If you asked me to burn the world, I would. If you asked me to rebuild it, I would.-

Dead silence followed.

(Y/N), completely floored.

The next morning, Itachi woke up with zero memory.

(Y/N) just stared at him. -Do you remember… anything from last night?-

He blinked, slow. -No.-

-…So if I tell you that you swore eternal devotion to me in front of the entire district, you’d think I was lying?-

He considered her words. Then, calmly, -It seems like something I would say. Was it convincing?-

254 notes · View notes

the-monkeies-girl · 1 year ago

Note

Girl when I tell you I absolutely NEED part 3 to Customary or I might die!! Omggg that yearning shit had me covering the smile on my mouth and licking my feet. �� It’s too good! It’s too cute! You might actually be a wizard. I’m bowing down to you, slow-burn queen 🙌

My fingers.... They are burning.... with dESIRE.

Title: Wounded Pride. Fandom: ( Kindgom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, blood, injury and mating. ) Words: 6K ( Someone stop me jk don't. ) Pairing: Implied! Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: You were ignoring each other, that much was clear. How long was it going to last? Noa felt like he was bursting at the seams and you felt like you had lost all sense of reasoning. ** Does Contain Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. **

READ THE SERIES HERE. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ “Noa!” That was a frantic tone and lured the Chimp to raise his head in question. His ears moved to focus on where it was coming from. Off to his left, maybe 10 or so meters away. Not too far if he needed to run. He made a barking sound in response. Hearing his name was not enough. His vision caught a few things. Leaves tangling against the ruins of a past structure. Echo in nature, through and through and hideously ugly. Nothing like what Apes built he beamed with decent pride at that. His body swung at the sound of his name vibrating along the walls encapsulating him like a barren playground. His set of feet and hands were pressed into the ground now. He was braced, ready to take off. Respond, Noa’s mind felt like it was melting, waiting for his fellow friends to communicate. He traced his gaze right along the trees that were bursting through the sturdy concrete, determined to grow in such ludacris circumstances. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than he had felt in quite some time, at least since his encounter with Proximus Caesar. “Noa! You need to come quick!” The fur along his spine pricked at that, standing on edge. A sensation not often felt with him. It screamed ‘danger ahead!’ His nerves yelled at him, muscles feeling tense. The voice was very much Soona’s, tangling with Anaya’s as they began yelling over each other. Well, it couldn’t have been that serious if they were both taking time to yell, some tanglement of arguing with each other hitting Noa’s ears as he finally picked his pace up to a gallop. Coming to what could only be described as a skirting stop, Noa’s hands and feet dug into the earth below him to stop him from tumbling over, making quite crazed eye contact with Soona and Anaya as his mind caught up with his body. Both unharmed, he sighed from relief at that. Anaya was breathing heavily - Nervous? Noa questioned silently and looked at Soona again, shoulders fraught. He stared at her, expecting an explanation without having to ask for one. She was quick to oblige but didn't bother with words. Merely stepping aside, her entire self bumped into Anaya’s and they both shuffled to the side on all fours looking between Noa and what was behind them in the long grass that grew without care. Noa came forward, keeping his senses on guard in case there was danger with what Soona and Anaya had found. His friends were fast to follow right behind him. Noa never had it in him to advise that he was just as scared as they were at times like this. He swallowed it down and did what he needed. Soona and Anaya needed him to be brave and that was often his gift to them. Their gift back? Their unwavering friendship and support through the years. Green eyes scaled the grassy area in front of him to observe before he got too close. Some blades were painted red. Noa hesitated briefly. It had to be blood, Noa roughly vocalized to Soona and Anaya to stand back, stay back. They did just that, stopping their movements as Noa bridged the gap of two feet between himself and the patch.

“Still… Alive?” Soona asked quietly. Noa glanced back at her, watching as she dipped her head precariously. Anaya was standing close to her, holding onto her arm out of fear. Noa looked back at the grass, or rather, what was in it. Between the long entanglements of weeds and vines he could make out the striking notions of blood splatter. Fresh, it still looked wet. Swallowing back something that was resting in his throat, Noa stood. If there was danger, he needed to appear as large as he could. One of the many tactics a Chimpanzee had when faced with the unknown. The extra height he got going from all fours to bi-pedal was all he needed to see clearly what was in that busted patch of grass. ‘Echo!’ He signed at Anaya and Soona.

‘Has to still be alive!’ Anaya was fast to respond to his best friend, his hands finding it a bit difficult to move so quickly. The next set of words were jumbled but Noa understood. It had made a sound when Soona and Anaya probed it, which prompted them to call Noa in return.

‘What…’ Soona’s signing was slow compared to Anaya’s. She was always more thoughtful and Noa savored that in this moment, trying so hard to keep himself from going straight into panic. ‘What… do.. We do?’

‘Put out of misery.’ Anaya wasn’t joking.

Noa held his hand up, fingers twisted into a hard fist. Soona and Anaya both fell deathly quiet. He was not about to mercy kill. What was in front of him would die on its own once the cold of the night came around. There was evident damage to their legs, close to the ankles, blood pooling there and trickling down the smooth nature of the skin into the dirt below. He made a fast sign to his friends telling them. He heard them both gasp under their breath as Noa made a move closer, crouching to get more detail, his hands and feet tangling in on themselves with the spaced movement of Noa’s broad body. Cut around the temple, hit by rock maybe, or fell on face, burns around wrists, most likely from being bound. Noa was making quick notes of what he was seeing. He looked right. Nothing. He looked to the left and noticed blood droplets and traced their trajectory mindfully. It was coming from the direction of the cave that kept the Eagle Clan secluded from other Apes in the area. That was all Noa needed to know. The Echo in front of him must have been hunted, nearly to the brink of death. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

‘How?’ Anaya signed at Noa, huffing deeply at his friend who was pacing, very distraught. The sounds from the Ape in front of him told Noa to stop moving and to focus, pay attention to the conversation at hand but it was apparent with the shoulder movements of aggravation that that was not going to happen. Noa was an obsessive creature, and Anaya knew that. Once he was locked and entranced by something, by any force of nature, Noa would tear it open and figure it out to satisfy his need to fix, his need to deduce. That’s what made him so good at tinkering, at resolving. It must have been a secretive thing Noa wanted to talk about this time around, eager to get Anaya alone. Stalking and biding his time almost all day to get his friend pinned for a conversation. Without Soona, without his mother. ‘Echo got offended?’ The signing of those words were accompanied by a funny face, Anaya very obviously curious how Noa had managed that one. Neither had heard of an Echo being offended, though, from the Elders of the Clan, they had always made the assumption that they were quick to anger. Maybe the same thing, Anaya bargained with Noa, but Noa felt this was different than simple anger and told his friend that sternly.

Noa had put everything incredibly broad, unsure of how to approach his closest confidant with what had happened between himself and you. Too many details would give away Noa’s primal intent. He gave the gist of it with words a few minutes ago, Anaya intently listening to Noa’s voice waver. Up and down, the placement of his tone unsure and full of self-loathing. He continued, explaining in part the conversation about the human custom of kissing, only the important details, followed by a very cliff-noted version of the hunting endeavor. Anaya must have sensed the urgency, choosing to sign rather than put more effort into it by speaking. Anyway, he justified it further by thinking that signing was more private. Less likely for someone to overhear, or well…. Oversee. Tilting his head to the side, Anaya felt a sigh roll from him as Noa finally stopped pacing, now choosing to sit rather defensively on his hands and feet. ‘How?’ Anaya repeated.

‘I do not know.’ Shamefully, Noa dropped his hands after admitting that, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment as he grinded his teeth together. They clattered, his canines distracting his train of thought for a split second as he moved his tongue over them. ‘Echo just…’ Signs were not coming to him. Thoughts were not coming to him. Throwing his hands up in vivid frustration, Noa gave up and let a growl fall from his lips, snarling his lips for a second as it became a bit louder before tapering into a hum of sorts. Anaya blinked, hunching forward on all fours and drifted his way very slowly to sit by Noa.

‘Why… you bothered?’

‘I do not know.’ He repeated this time.

Anaya nodded, only looking at his friend from the corner of his eye. ‘Maybe… Apology?’ That was definitely an avenue that Noa had considered, in fact it was the first thing that popped into his mind. Chimps were good at apologies. Never with words, often they reached their hands out, palms up and waited for the party getting the concession to accept. It had a great acceptance rate, but Noa doubted you’d want that. Just throw an apology your way and see how it sticks! What could go wrong? You’d never talk to him again… He grunted out a denial to Anaya at that prospect and turned his shoulders away. Defensive in nature.

‘You… need tell Anaya…’ He tilted his head in hesitation, knowing what he was about to suggest would be a dangerous path, even though they were friends. “What Noa actually said.” There was confidence in his verbalization, stressing and driving home to Noa that it was a necessity to spill his guts for Anaya to properly gauge the situation and help. “Asked.. about mating.” Noa was fast to speak, hoping that maybe his voice was too weak for Anaya to understand. He underestimated it though and it came out sounding like a sour grape. “Asked if pleasured.” Noa turned his face towards Anaya, giving him a certain look that told him all he needed to know. He got his needed information and now he needed to process. And… It surely brought to light a lot of things.

A lot.

Anaya sat back on his butt, displaying a rather surprised expression. Noa didn't bother looking at him, already able to see the emotions on his friend's face just in his mind. That’s what they got for years of being around each other. Each minute move either face or body was known and read right away.

“Stupid.” He told Noa honestly which resulted in a chortle from the Eagle Clan’s leader. It was the sound of agreement. “Echo like privacy. Stupid to ask. Not like us! Keep many secrets away from Noa, from all Apes.” There was intense scrutiny in Anaya’s voice. There was a reason why the Elders told stories, wary ones, about the Echo’s. About how they were and how they disregarded things that weren’t important to them. Selfish! Anaya chuffed, wanting to pull Noa in physically and beat him into submitting, giving Anaya all the answers he needed to deduce what Noa was already enthralled in. Instead though, he urged, “Why ask?”

Noa dropped his shoulders at the mild scolding and dipped his chin towards his body. He knew what Anaya was saying was right and there was no logical excuse anymore why he asked what he did or why he felt somehow entitled to an answer from you. ‘Curious.’ He didn't have it in him to speak.

Anaya wasn’t seething perse, instead, he was statically quiet which was even worse to Noa. Anaya was a chatterbox, even if it was about nothing of consequence. This… Was out of the norm and it made Noa incredibly uncomfortable. He began shifting his weight from one side to another, swaying out of mere anticipation of being scolded again. And if Anaya got too into it, Noa could just choose to gallop away. He didn't have to take it! He was the leader. He was… He was the Eagle Clan.

“Stupid.” Anaya muttered again, picking himself up and moving. He couldn’t be next to Noa as he processed.

“Told me they only mate out of survival, hardly… the other reasons..” Anaya’s mouth popped open. Noa got further into the conversation than he led his friend to believe. Previously, the assumption was made that you didn't respond and merely began ignoring him out of offense.

Anaya exploded. “Echo not stupid, Noa is. Should have left it to die in the woods when found. Then, Noa wouldn’t be here telling Anaya stupid things!”

Noa lurched at that. Not at Anaya, but unquestionably at the implications of his words. At least, that was what Noa was going to tell himself later when the guilt set in that he drew his aggression at his best friend. The animalistic movement was taken the wrong way, made evident as Anaya billowed as Noa approached him, drawing into himself to appear smaller, more weak, more favorable. Raising his hand up, Noa was chaste to brush his fingertips against Anaya’s open palm. Apology. Simple and clean. Anaya submitted to his friend and watched as he turned, leaving the Chimp still as dumbfounded as before. Though, with a bit more insight.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

You could smell dried blood but you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your heavy eyelids. Warmth was collapsing over you, wave after wave. Each one brought another one of your senses with it. There was a mild tingling in your right ear, prickling at your hearing as you tried to adjust it enough to figure out your surroundings. Last thing you remembered was stumbling… Hands pacing over a bricked wall in the dark, trying too hard to find a place where you didn't need to run for your life. Your hand pressing to your forehead, bloodied from a cut on the side near your temple, vision blurring in and out of focus. Your knees buckled from exhaustion, crashing onto grass that definitely appeared softer than it felt… It was hot for a second but then it was awfully cold, your body taking a plunge into an invisible ocean of sheer ice. Then, it all went black. Maybe, if you were lucky, you were dead. Whirling endlessly in limbo somewhere between the Earth and the Heavens, searching for the next place to go. Maybe you were asleep, dreaming up violent situations from your subconscious. After all, it did what it wanted to in your dreams; you had no control over that. Would you be aware if you were dreaming though? That idea spurred you to cross it off the list of possibilities. Hm… Or maybe you were dead, you repeated. Your eyes did not want to open. You were so warm… Another wave hit you all of a sudden and you became aware of the smothering sensation of animal fur against your back. Against your arms. Against your legs. Against your entire body. Voices without bodies were floating around you. They sounded human enough and that put you at some ease. You jumped the gun there. Thinking you had been caught by a bunch of ravenous Apes. Ha. Ha. Ha…

Jolting, you were abruptly conscious.

Not conscious enough, you decided. Drawing a deep breath into your lungs to accommodate for the lack of air you got while passed out, you found your eyes peering into green ones directly above you. Not just regular green, you tilted your head and tried desperately to ignore the throb coming from your temple. Entrancing, grappling for dominance with flecks of outstanding gold against a canvas of darkened pupils. Oh yeah, you were dead. You were definitely looking into the eyes of God, you said sarcastically in your wounded trance and shut your eyes again. “Awake! Echo is awake!” You heard that clear as day and it did nothing to help the already soundless nature of the drumming in your head. It was followed up but a few soft hoots of acknowledgement which caused the hair on your arms to stick up in defense and your eyes to fly open without reserve. Ape. Ape. Ape. You counted them with wide eyes. Three. Maybe? Maybe more? You had a hard time telling as your eyes were adjusting back to some sort of normalcy after being drenched and flooded with blood. Wherever you were was not very bright save for a fire in the corner that drifted up what appeared to be wooden planks that were tilted inwards. No natural light came in and it beckoned your internal clock to assume that it was night time. You were in a structure of some type; that was easy to figure out regardless of lighting. With Apes. Not just Apes, you squinted and raised yourself on your forearms. Chimpanzees. Three sets of eyes, similarly colored to the ones you woke up peering into. You had no idea nor interest in knowing which one was observing you so closely. If you weren’t dead before, you may as well have been at that moment as you sprinted backwards, almost face first and staggered to your feet. Automatically, you were in a defensive position, trying to ignore the feeling of twisted pain in your ankles. Racing your hands everywhere, you tried to find something to grab. Something to defend yourself with. You needed to! There was nothing in the vicinity. You couldn’t even tell where the door was and your eyes were frantic to find some sort of escape. Shoulders rising and falling quickly, you turned and looked at the Apes again. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Your head was pounding and you felt like if you moved your feet anywhere, you were going to tumble. What did they want?

Your mind was flying at a faster speed than you were able to process any cognitive thought. Words were blaring in your ears without anyone yelling. Your group of fellow Humans were all hunted, their chanting still wild in your head. Apes were dangerous. Apes showed no compassion. They liked the kill, they liked the satisfaction. The deeply ingrained instinct to be afraid of them because you didn't understand them, the wild weaned fear of what they could do to you. What they were planning to do! Were they… Oh god, they were going to kill you and then skin you and then eat your insides--- you scrambled again, no regard for how you must have looked as you dropped to your knees, muttering under your breath as you flew around on all fours. You needed to find a way out. There had to be a way out. They were going to attack, they were moving!

Wait.

You paused, hunching on your hands and knees, feeble attempts made to catch your breath but you still found yourself panting like a wild animal. Mouth agape, you looked at the Apes in the room with you before letting your gaze fall down to their hands. Were they… Using sign language?Your back came into crushing contact with the wooden wall behind you, earning a tiny flinch from you as your right shoulder blade radiated. You must have been bruised there, you thought. Despite the grinding pain you were in, you tried to push further back as one of them, only slightly bigger in stature compared to the other two dropped to all fours, now eye level with you, and languidly moved towards you. First a hand, followed by a foot and then repeated until they were right in front of you. Your breath caught in your throat as they leaned in, deathly close to your face that you were able to smell them in your nostrils, mixing now with that previously noted taste of dried blood. Oh, they were going to rip your face off.

“Alive.” They said to you, taking a brash step back when you moved. No shit, you wanted to say but you couldn’t find your voice. Your eyes widened at the movement of them and the sound of their voice. Not aggressive or mean, but it was pensive and quiet. Observant, and you wondered if they were even talking to you or just verbally acknowledging to the other two Apes that you were, well… Alive. Whoever this Ape was… Was courageous enough to face you, to be near you but obviously held some reservations. There was absolutely no way they were just as afraid as you were.

“Injured.” That was directed towards you, eye contact frantically being made when the smell of fresh blood became more abundantly noticed. Almost afraid to look down, you felt a small gush coming from your right calf. It slipped down the curve of your muscle, mixed with something… A paste of some sort that in itself, in your cloudy disposition, was rather fragrant if you focused on it. Something like a root, pulled and crushed from deep in the Earth. How did that… Get there? You looked at your injury, nothing more than a gash, deeper than it appeared though and it ached if you moved your foot in any awkward positions. “Wh…” Your voice came out ridiculously hoarse, hand reaching up to touch the outside of your throat. The Ape in front of you was watching it all. The inquest on your face, your fingers holding along your throat and focusing on your heart beat. How long have you been out? A day? Two? A week? Swallowing hard, you lubricated your vocal cords just enough to force out a question, “Wh-- What did you… do..t’me?” That was definitely slurred.

“Did nothing!” Another Ape finally spoke, their voice frantic and distraught.Not from nerves…. Right? You looked at them, then at the one adjacent, who was just a touch smaller than the other two, before your gaze fell on the one closest to you, wrought breathing causing your lungs to feel rather tight. Shifting, you tried to relax but found that it only brought discomfort.

“Injured.” The one in front of you said again, this time with a bit more confidence. Whether it was true or faux, you had no idea but it was difficult to sort anything through your thought process at the moment. You were barely processing the fact that there was quite literally a hole in your calf let alone that an Ape was communicating with you so… Civilly. “Found in… ruins. Dying.” Your lips parted, suddenly becoming aware that you were thirsty. The severity of the words spoken hit you like a feathered ton of bricks. Softly at first, it was initially hazed by the idea that they were capable of saving you instead of killing you. Then, it sank in and it felt like your body was tied to a chair, someone banging on your chest over and over again to just drive the point home that all your preconceptions about these Apes might have been wrong. No! It couldn’t have been wrong! You lived your entire life afraid of them, being told from your childhood to be afraid and to always run away. It was only solidified when each of those Humans you were around were hunted, killed and their bodies dragged around in a triumphant show-boat by a group of Apes on the back of their horses. Squeezing your eyes shut at that visual, often the cause of nightmares for you, you shook your head vehemently. There was no way.

“We…” They continued on, “saved.” There was a gesture towards the two Apes across the room. “Brought Echo back here… Spear head in leg,” Huh, that explained that, you bargained for some sort of reality. “Took out, stopped bleeding then…” They came to a slow stop and signed something over at the other two. You had no idea what they were saying now. Sign language was not your forte. Maybe, if you could push aside the vibration in your head, you’d be able to read them from body language but that was thrown out the window when you opened your eyes, tears forming at the edges and ultimately blurring your vision.

“Echo then wake up.”

You snapped, “Wha… What the hell is an Echo?”One of the two behind lurched ever so slightly at the apparent aggression you put into your words, but the one crouched in front of you put a hand up to tell them to stop.

It gestured at you.

You rolled your eyes. That must have been their name for Humans. Each clan called them something different, you had figured that out over the years. Instead of having individual names, the human race was deduced down to a word such as ‘Echo’ or ‘Nova’, which you had heard in passing, speckled usually in more secluded clans and only talked about in detail when you were around the fire late at night with other humans. It was lore, it was ghost stories. It was reality now. “I--- Have a name…” You whispered. “(Name).” Hm… With a tilted head to the side, a response came. “Noa.” Finally giving you a bit more clarity. He pointed at the two Apes behind him accordingly, “That Soona,” She looked at you, terrified obviously, but seemingly confident in her friend's ability to talk to you. “Anaya.” Even more terrified, and not as obviously convinced in this Noa Ape to be as outrageously courageous as he was appearing.

“Are…” You quivered in on yourself and looked at him. A string of tears hit your cheeks, hurting at your temple even more than before and profusely lit the flame that caused the beating in your head to intensify rapidly. “Are you going to kill me?” Noa looked at you, draping you in some sort of melancholic state as you realized just how… human his eyes were. How they observed every morsel of your face, taking in the details and probably thinking just how hideous you were compared to Apes. How he’d scrutinize your scent, your well being, your entire self. But, he said nothing, gaze flickering between your eyes before he moved attention to your calf again. You followed suit. It looked worse than it felt, at least you had that. If he were going to kill you, wouldn’t he have already done it? There was a fleeing moment where he felt offended at your accusation, feeling the same coming from Soona and Anaya - primarily the latter. But, he had to remind himself, you were Echo. You did not know any other ways.

“Not all Apes are that way. We do not kill… Echo’s here.” You stiffened watching as he drew himself onto his hands and feet again from his default crouching stance. That was a complete and full sentence. You tried to not bark at him with confusion, not impressed by any means… Well… No! Not impressed. You knew they could talk. It was well---You knew… they could… Your eyes blurred and you felt your head fall to the side before you urged yourself into a more aware state. It lasted only moments before you lulled into an awkward dance with unconsciousness and invested fear. Coldness rocketed right through your leg at the application of more of the root smelling paste to your wound. It didn't sting perse, instead, it felt numbing. Were you so out of it that you didn't see Noa grabbing what appeared to be a clay jar of sorts? Fingers pushing into it and then smearing its contents on your body? You so desperately wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, putting on you but you were shot with another wave of black. You passed out. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Almost sickly aware of the pair of green eyes on you at all times, intricately staring at your movements down to the minute shift of your shoulders as you breathed, you did everything you could to ignore them. Your hands were busy; helping Soona untangle some twine that had gotten itself into a mess of very intricate knots. She had praised you for your help, explaining that ‘Echo hand… smaller than Ape..’ It was a simple and gentle compliment from her, you being grateful to be of some use to someone else in the Clan and not just Noa. With your hands working, your mind fell into a leisurely state as you tried so desperately to convince yourself that Noa wasn’t foolish enough to pull you away from a social situation with Soona. It would seem suspicious and ultimately, Soona would tell Anaya who would then in turn absolutely panic and tell Noa to back off, leave you be and that the only purpose you served here was to please Noa’s curiosity about the Teachings of Caesar. Thinking those things did nothing to help you feel calm. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Your mind did not stop at that though, enticing you to look up. You swept the entire village with your gaze. He had to be there somewhere, he rarely chose to drift off by himself without either of his friends, or even you on occasions but that was only when you served a purpose to him, you convinced yourself that at the moment the agreement was made that you would help Noa understand about human culture. You were still actively trying to convince yourself of that after the last two conversations that abhorrently played in your head in excruciating detail. The absolute devastation on his face when he realized that he had asked you the wrong thing and your petty response was the top of the list for your mental replays. It was your pettiness and inability to say anything positive in response to him that got you the most worked up despite your answer to him being that of pure truth. Humans didn't mate, in Noa’s words, for pleasure. They mated for survival. Setting your twine down now that it was a straight line, you looked over your shoulder once more before glancing down to pick up another knotted piece to work on. Well… What were you supposed to tell him? Looking at it now in a less offended state, you should have just told him that you didn't want to answer. There were a few times in the past that Noa attempted to push a question on you, soon coming to embrace acceptance that you weren’t willing to give him any response and he’d drop it. The two of you never fought about it, never went days upon days without talking or seeing each about them. Were you even fighting? Tilting your head, you shuffled on the ground and spread your legs out instead of sitting cross-legged like you had been for at least the last half hour. Then you began bargaining. He had asked you before if you had mated. If you had someone before you found your way to the Eagle Clan. You never answered him, even then. It was left alone for a long time, Noa not wanting to pry into obviously human privacy. So he was consciously aware of the status of the question he begged you to answer only a few days ago. You fixated on the way he had signed that word. Pleasure. It was a slow signing, his two hands in front of his chest with a perpendicular circular motion. It was a flurry of intensity. The question. Your chaste answer. Noa falling silent next to you, no doubt self-reflecting at the idiocy of the question. And then… Oh… You had the absolute torture of being silent for the rest of the hunting trip. Noa ignored you, you could sense the coldness coming off of him in waves due to his inner thoughts taking over. You wanted nothing more than to ask him when he inquired about pleasure. How he even knew that it was a pleasurable experience for a human. Was it for Apes? Chimpanzees? You had no idea, choosing to linger in your ignorance and figure that it was not an element to their mating standards.

Huffing, you sat your twine back down and told Soona in a soft tone of voice as to not alarm her, “I need to go pee.” She let you go with silence, figuring your rather fast pace was due to really needing to relieve yourself.

A quick excuse to get you on your legs, pacing towards the right and through the entire embankment of the village to the very edge. Kicking a rock under your foot as you approached the small creek, the very sight of the first incident with Noa, you felt like doing nothing more than grabbing your hair and screaming to the high heavens. What was wrong with you!? Now you were the foolish one, asking questions that shouldn’t need to be asked, that didn't need an answer because what fruit would come from knowing if Apes mated at all for pleasure?

Coming around the small creek embankment, your fast feet came to an almost stumbling stop. Your mind didn't process as quickly as you halted harder than anticipated and almost felt yourself go face first into the shallow water in front of you from the sheer momentum you had. A set of broad shoulders, lined delicately with thinning fur in preparation for the summer, were facing you. Sun peeked across the west as it began its gentle descent into night, flushing the sky now with a light hue of pink and orange. Ah yes… That oh so familiar body in front of you, hand dipped in water in quite solace was none other than the Chimp you were ignored by for days. Well, not just ignored by. You did your fair share of skipping around the stone to not run into him.

Tightly wrapping your fingers into fists at your side, you contemplated going back. It appeared he hadn’t heard you, hadn’t sensed you coming or at the very least, you weren’t worth turning around or acknowledging. Your heart sank at that thought. You were just another tool he used to get his way into fixing a problem that wasn’t his to fix. He… Looked so small… You brought your bottom lip in and chewed it out of deliberation, eyes scaping up his back, broad by nature, but from his posture now, it was brought in on itself and he looked reminiscent of a little kid who had just gotten into big trouble. Maybe, you muttered inside of your own head and trailed your way towards him. You were still contemplating if you wanted to talk to him, but the very least you could do was to appear next to him and give the chance.

‘Know you are there.’ There went your element of surprise as Noa brought his hand back in and rested it against his chest in a coiled position. He wasn’t just crouching, he was holding himself.

“I---” You stumbled backwards, feet shifting to move your weight but your mind was telling you not to run. To confront. You didn't want to! You wanted to leave it alone, you didn't want to… To… Have to see his face. “I’m sorry, I didn't know you’d be up here, I just needed to---”

“Think.”

Swallowing softly, you planted yourself behind him, only a few feet and looked at the water that was so enviously caressing his hand. Looking down at your own palm, you felt it tingle with want… You wanted to be that water and freely float yourself against him in some bid to calm, ease… Love… “Yeah…” That was spit from your mouth so softly, almost afraid that Noa wouldn’t be able to hear. He didn't turn to face you so you figured that he did in fact hear and was either waiting for silence to fall over the two of you again or for you to say something else. He waited.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・ Tag List: @ohwaitimthewriter @saturnnie-03 @hera-annwn @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @callsignwindow @moonchild1433 @kaenalsha @whamsworld @yummyfant @unsteady-bitch @twinspineout

( Sorry if tumblr is a jerk and doesn't tag properly. It does that sometimes I've noticed. )

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #noa #planet of the apes #noa x reader #noa x human reader #planet of the apes x reader #proximus caesar #soona #anaya #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes #owen teague

450 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 1 year ago

Text

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with. “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..” You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself.

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair.

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink. “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding.

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery.

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill.

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control.

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh.

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x gn reader #boothill x y/n #boothill #boothill hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #angst #-n0tamused.angst #honkai star rail imagines #boothill imagines #drabble

490 notes · View notes

bwat5-blog · 6 months ago

Text

The Commander: Part Two

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

***LONG I AM NOT KIDDING***

We jump back into the exploration of Caitlyn's story ash she leads the strike team into Zaun. She names three objective:

Locate Jinx

Dismantle Shimmer

Neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco

Now in the interest of clarity and rational thinking, let us take a moment to examine each of these objectives without consideration of Caitlyn's current mental state, as well as an objective look into the use of the grey. I will indicate the beginning and end of this section clearly. The reason I am making a point of this, is so that you know I am going to discuss the moral and ethical concerns here. But, this is really when people started losing their mind regarding Caitlyn's arc so lets begin with turning down the temperature, and taking a more rational look at what unfolds.

The Strike Team:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and living by a couple deadly sins just to make sure I finish what you began..... let it rain down hellfire, can't hide away. it's judgement day, and no one gets out alive"("Hellfire" Fever 333")

Logic Based Examination Of the Strike Team's Objectives And Methods:

Locate Jinx- As members of the audience, it is easy to hear Caitlyn and feel outrage. We have seen Jinx's suffering and struggle since she was a little girl named Powder. We have seen that Silco used Caitlyn's presence in the undercity to drive Vi and Jinx apart, and that Sevika did so with the express intent of driving Jinx further into chaos. But to the entity that is "Piltover", what does Jinx actually represent?

A- The theft of the gemstone in which six enforcers were killed, and a building was burned down.

B- The bombing of the Bridge, in which several enforcers were killed.

C- The assassination of three councilors, destruction of the council chamber, paralyzing Salo from the waist down, and maiming Shoola's eye

D- As I stated in part one, although we the audience know that Jinx was not involved in the attack on the memorial, in the wake of her killing the council members and being known as the "daughter" of Silco, it is completely reasonable that the people of Piltover are linking her to this attack as well.

Caitlyn's emotional link aside, Jinx has come to represent a dangerous and highly intelligent threat to the safety of Piltover. They do not see her wandering the streets of Zaun afterward, ready to die. They see that a violent terrorist gained access to the most powerful innovation of their life time, weaponized it extremely fast implying her brilliance, conducted what they understand to be a political assassination, and then sent soldiers into Piltover during a time of grief to kill more. Again, this is all to be considered without Caitlyn's impact. It is simply the facts as they understand them.

2. Dismantle Shimmer- Shimmer and Hextech are the answers to each other. Topside has their great source of power, and the undercity has theirs. And while the intent to dismantle it seems to have more to do with taking that weapon away from their enemies than anything, Shimmer is a dangerous, unstable, highly addictive drug that caused a tremendous amount of suffering in the undercity. It's long term exposure leading to addiction, mutation, and death.

3. Neutralize Any Agents Still Loyal To Silco- So what we see when the strike team begins their operation, is that they are targeting the Chem-Barons and their operations primarily having to do with Shimmer. The Chem-Barons are dangerous crime lords pushing Shimmer and murdering those who stand against them. As we see in "Watch It All Burn" they are ripping the undercity apart in their struggle for power, despite Sevika's efforts to make them stop.

"Dirty little animals, you cannibals, eat your supper.. one by one all these vultures keep coming".. ("Sucker" Marcus king)

These are NOT good people. They are not freedom fighters. They are not speaking truth to power and standing for the oppressed. They are violent and selfish criminals who even if they believed in a cause once, have long since abandoned it in favor of greed, and power.

Now, moving forward from that look at their objectives, let's talk about what got our hash-tagger (I haven't forgotten about you and welcome back!) and their friends rage smashing their keyboards.

The Grey-

Origin-

Using the Kiramman key, Caitlyn learns that her forebears created the ventilation system used filter the toxins from the air in the undercity. It is first described as "factory smog trapped underground", and from what we are given to understand, Piltover scientists have weaponized it for the strike team's purposes. Although we do see Silco use some version of it to bring the Chem-Barons into line when they question him.

Confirmed Effects-

Painful irritation to eyes: We this across its multiple uses for the most recent example, look at Cait's eyes during the final fight against Ambessa in season 2.

Nasal irritation: Heenot seems to sneeze quite a bit from exposure

Painful irritation to the throat: Every person exposed immediately starts to cough, hack, that sort of thing quite violently

Trouble breathing to the point of incapacitation: Multiple examples, some people seem to take it better than others.

Now, what did I not list? Death. There is a reason. There is not a single indication anywhere that the use of The Grey in these short term combat situations has killed anyone. In fact, we have repeated examples of characters who are exposed and are very much alive:

Caitlyn Kiramman: Exposed during fight against Ambessa and her forces.

Steb: Exposed during fight against Ambessa and her forces.

Heenot: Left hanging exposed in the grey By Jinx.

Jinx: Exposed when the strike team comes for her in the arcade.

Finn (dead but not because of gas): Exposed by Silco in season one. Now in fairness, whatever Silco had was clearly not the same form as what the strike team are using, but if anything it seems more violent, as the Chem-Barrons react far more quickly than we see people reacting to the grey.

Throughout Arcane, there are multiple statements regarding the "poisoning of our air" when people of Zaun speak about Topside. This is to do with pollution,smog and runoff from the mines and industry of Piltover. That's what the strike team is using, weaponized pollution to incapacitate enemies and drive people off the streets who are not fighting. And just like severe pollution would there be long term health effects if you were consistently exposed? Certainly. We see this in the diagrams Caitlyn is inspecting regarding the ventilation. But that is not what is happening here. In order to maintain proper perspective and not let rhetoric blind us, below you will find a very brief list of real world chemical weapons and a few of their side effects:

Sarin Gas: Cardiac arrest, coma, paralysis, respiratory failure

VX Gas: Seizures, Increased fluid buildup in airway and digestive tract, flaccid paralysis, death

They are quite clearly not the same. And if you consider the fact that they are chasing someone who is quite fond of using explosives, using a weapon that clears innocent people off of the streets and incapacitates enemies meaning they don't have to kill them, is far from the great crime against humanity people have made it out to be.

End Of Logic Only Based Analysis

Okay, now that we have that out of the way let's get back to why we are all here, Caitlyn Kiramman. If you refer to the lyrics of the song that plays during a look into the strike-team's actions, even just the first line tells us where her head space is. "Can I do the right thing, for the wrong reasons". The reason I just went through all of that above, is that it is easy to see how Caitlyn can justify all of this in her mind. The Strike Team is the alternative to a full-scale invasion, first off. And they want to dismantle the operations of the violent criminals that are tearing the Undercity apart, as well as catch the person who brought this most recent storm of Piltover's wrath upon the innocents of Zaun.

But as we see, Caitlyn is falling further and further into her rage and pain as this operation continues. Even in the cinematic for hellfire, her face is so clear. This mission is not about justice or liberating Zaun from the criminals so willing to harm their own, it is about revenge. If you recall, in part one I discussed and cited the potential emotional and mental effects of exposure to violence someone may suffer from. Caitlyn has in NO WAY BEGUN TO HEAL. And now she is leading her team in urban warfare, in the streets of Zaun losing more of herself day by day.

To conclude, we need to discuss two primary factors in all of this regarding Caitlyn's mental state, as we lead up to the battle of the ventilation chamber.

The Grey:

Have the fandom completely and totally lost their minds regarding the grey. Yes. I'm sorry, but yes. Take a moment and consider if they weren't using it, it scares away innocents and incapacitates those who would fight. Whatever the death toll was during this operation, it would have been much worse if they had a full-on firefight in every situation.... And to those who say "well they didn't have to be there in the first place" remember that the alternative here is a full-scale military invasion with hex-tech wielding enforcers. After the memorial attack there is no question, Piltover is coming.

However, what it is also, it is a perversion of Caitlyn's families good work. A twisting of what her forebears designed to give the people of the undercity good clean air. The point here is following the theme given to us by song in the beginning, the right thing for the wrong reasons. Caitlyn is able to hide from the truth of the darkness growing in her because this all seems so righteous. But the woman who loves her and she loves in return sees through her, which brings us to another consideration.

Vi:

Vi's turn as an Enforcer is extremely controversial in the fandom, and there is a lot of discussion about the various facets of her story. Here, we are focusing on Caitlyn, but for what I should hope are beyond obvious reasons, Vi is immensely important to Caitlyn's story. So that end, we need to understand a few points:

Vi made her own choice: Listen y’all, anyone who has been keeping up with me knows Vi is my favorite character. I have vigorously defended the character against the bizarre and idiotic criticisms that have been levelled at her since this season and will continue to do so happily. But people blaming Caitlyn for Vi being here are wrong. There is a conversation to be had about Caitlyn asking Vi to come and wear the uniform (and we are going to), but Vi made the decision for herself. No one put a gun to her head.

Caitlyn asked Vi to come and wear the uniform: As previously stated, Vi made her own choice. But, I think if we consider how Caitlyn has treated Vi throughout the story, the fact that she would ever ask Vi to come and do this, to wear the symbol of her parents murderers and do violence in Zaun's streets, speaks fairly significantly to her tunnel vision regarding their mission and her lessening ability to consider the consequences of her actions as she becomes more and more violent. Caitlyn has only ever been kind and loving to Vi, but the part of her that has to know what all of this is doing to her, is sinking further and further below the waves.

The Kiss-

Before confronting Jinx and Sevika, Vi asks Caitlyn for a moment, having seen the darkness consuming her. They come to an agreement on sending the rest of the team home, for fear of Jinx using their inexperience against them. It is then that they have a discussion that will impact both of them for months to come:

Caitlyn: "I can't let her get away again. Are you sure you're ready to..?"

Vi: "My sister is gone... there's only Jinx now. It has to end. I'm so sorry about your mother, I'm sorry I can't bring her back. Please just, everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change"

Vi tears up, clearly overwhelmed and Caitlyn kisses her, saying "I won't".

It's a very moving moment and one fans of their love have been waiting for a very long time. Sadly, it is also quite clear that it was a doomed promise to ask for. Because the reality is that Caitlyn has already changed and been changing. It isn't a fair thing of Vi to expect Caitlyn to remain unchanged in this overwhelming situation. But Vi isn't being malicious, she has lost quite literally everyone she has ever cared for, and sees the last person she has left changing in front of her, she is afraid. And for Caitlyn's part, she sees the woman she loves, showing the vulnerability and fear and need of comfort that she knows Vi will only let her see, and she wants to be that for her. Wants to make her feel better. But on some level Caitlyn knows she can't honor that promise, so she doesn't make one. She says "i won't".

The Ventilation Chamber:

Finally, for the first time since Jinx killed her mother, Caitlyn is face to face with the living embodiment of her nightmares. I am certainly not going over the entire list again, but I encourage you to revisit the list of reasons Caitlyn has to hate/fear Jinx. When it all comes to a head, Caitlyn has her rifle on Jinx, with Isha trying to shield her, and Vi makes her stop. Trying to reason with her due to the risk of hitting Isha. After Sevika detonates the charges and Vi and Cait are thrown into the next chamber, Caitlyn insists she had the shot still in defiance of Vi’s bringing up the risk of hitting Isha. They lash out verbally at one another, with Caitlyn hitting Vi in the stomach with her rifle and leaving her behind. We need to more closely examine what we are seeing to understand this situation appropriately:

Vi tries to call out to Caitlyn repeatedly and tell her “She’s a child”, all Caitlyn responds with is “Move, she’s not getting away again”: We know Caitlyn. There is quite literally no scenario in which the Caitlyn we know would endanger the life of a child. But here, it’s like she can’t even see Isha. She is wide eyed, breathing heavy, looks incredibly angry, and even fires twice, striking Vi’s glove once. She is showing extreme tunnel vision and single-minded rage putting the life of a child and the woman she loves at risk with her actions. Everything about the way she is behaving suggests a severe episode related to her PTSD, standing face to face with the source of her trauma.

Caitlyn tells Vi she is no different than Jinx because of the blood in her veins and hits her in the stomach with her rife stock, abandoning her: Okay, as I have said, Vi is my favorite character. So yes, when I saw this part I wanted to reach through the screen and choke her out. But again, we have to take a step back for a moment. I know I have not done much of a job in explaining it, but Caitlyn has been demonstrating consistently mounting psychological trauma since this all started. Now she has survived a violent confrontation and come face to face with the symbol of all of it. Just a refresher as to what she is feeling in this moment:

Guilt- She had a shot on Jinx that very first time. So, she has been carrying that with her regarding her mother’s death

Hatred- I think it’s totally fair to say she legitimately and completely hates Jinx given everything that has happened

Fear- She is terrified of Jinx. I have listed all of the reasons why, but for Caitlyn this moment is being face to face with the monster and at the end of the movie. Except in this version, the person you love stops you from finishing the monster. (in Caitlyn’s emotionally overloaded POV)

Betrayal- Although Vi had a totally valid reason for stopping Caitlyn, Caitlyn is not in a place where she can see that. In this moment all she can process is that Vi told her she was ready for it to end before they went into that chamber, and then Vi stopped her.

Shame- Look at her eyes a moment after she hits Vi. She is clearly full of regret and leaves quickly

As I have stated previously, simply from a layman’s perspective there seems to be quite of bit of evidence of Caitlyn’s trauma wreaking havoc on her ability to process and deal with this situation in any way that she normally would.

A Lamb To The Slaughter:

Standing at the general assembly while Ambessa makes her speech, we need to take stock of where Caitlyn is at this moment emotionally and mentally:

Survived series of multiple violent incidents that almost claimed her life over very short time

She is twenty-three years old

Abducted from her childhood home and terrorized

Mother murdered

Survived attack at mother’s memorial

Lead team in urban warfare in Zaun

Stopped from getting revenge on jinx for all of it

Romantic partner is gone

Grieving, exhausted, angry, afraid, guilty, betrayed, and full of hate

So when Ambessa Medarda, a warlord, a literal leader of men promises justice and names her the commander, she has no chance at resisting her. She is vulnerable and alone, with a highly intelligent older figure filling the role of the parent she lost, telling her to weaponize her suffering, promising her justice. Sound Familiar?

Before we move into discussing her time as the "Dictator", I do also want to draw attention to something. As I said, Caitlyn is 23 years old. Every person in that assembly knows who she is. They know she is extremely young, and despite her remarkable accomplishments she is also in immense emotional turmoil. Do any of the older people there do anything as a warlord in her fifties calls Caitlyn and essentially rubberstamp's her forehead with the word "SCAPEGOAT!". No they don't. And please, don't misunderstand this to mean I do think Caitlyn is accountable for her mistakes and decisions both up til now and moving forward. But you have to actively be ignoring details not to see that Caitlyn has been manipulated and used by Ambessa.

The "Dictator":

First and foremost, a word on the pacing of this part of Caitlyn's story. There are many varying opinions on the handling of pacing in season 2. I have made mine known, and so will spare you the diatribe here. I will simply say, that for such an important part of her story, we don't spend a lot of time with her. The fact that she doesn't have one scene clearly indicating she is thinking of Vi is a felony offense. I don't care where the pillows are with Maddie.

Hashtagger! We are finally here, she is the figurehead of a system of marshal law. Very exciting stuff. I know you have been waiting, eager to use the word fascist and other fun names. But stick with me. You will be surprised what you can learn when you actually watch the show.

What We Actually Know:

Per comments from Amanda Overton, it has been 3-6 months since the events of "Finally Got The Name Right"

She is in a romantic relationship with Maddie, who we have the hindsight of knowing is a Noxian Spy

Zaun has been fully occupied with checkpoints and inspections

Jinx has become a symbol to Zaun

Ambessa conducting secret hex-tech experiments and brutal interrogations

She has forbidden use of the cells like Vi was in

Has become close.. or at least something like it with Ambessa

In the time since we last saw her, Caitlyn has become a very different person than we left off. She seems tired, cold and withdrawn. She frequently expresses doubt and concern over how things are happening but cannot bring herself to put a stop to it when given the chance at various points (or more accurately being tested to see if she will try to put a stop to it I suppose). The fandom at large has taken this part of Caitlyn's story and used it to turn her into Idi Amin. This is completely laughable. While Caitlyn is responsible for her mistakes and her bad decisions, the truth here is that she is a young woman who has been totally submerged by her inner darkness. She is being manipulated to the highest degree, and has been made a scapegoat by a woman she has come to trust. First and foremost to get an understanding of this time for her, we have to discuss she and Ambessa.

Caitlyn & Ambessa-

Much like Silco and Jinx, I do not doubt that Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn in some way. Ambessa has focused a great deal on teaching her and does seem to actually believe in her to some degree, as Rictus will later share with her. But ultimately, Caitlyn has been a target of Ambessa's manipulations much longer than she can image. We know that the Memorial attack was orchestrated to exacerbate the conflict between the two cities. And when Caitlyn enters the council chamber afterward to announce her strike-team's mission, Ambessa is quite clearly impressed. So when it all comes to head after the Strike Team's mission has failed, Ambessa moves in, filling the hole in Caitlyn's life and guiding her away from the light. We learn some important things in these interactions between or about them, regarding Ambessa's manipulation of her:

When speaking to Rictus, Ambessa says "the moment WE seize control of this backwater". She is not talking about Caitlyn. There are no illusions here as to who is in charge.

"I've learned so much from her..she delivered us Zaun as she promised... who knows how many would have died". Caitlyn talking about Ambessa to Maddie. The Noxian spy Ambessa put in Caitlyn's bed.

Caitlyn and Ambessa acknowledge mutual lack of trust between them.

Caitlyn questions Ambessa over violence being done by them. States arrests require cause. We see that Ambessa likes that fire in Caitlyn , and they have conversation regarding forgiveness: "Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow"... This is a powerful moment because Ambessa is using it to guilt Caitlyn into keep fighting, but in reality it becomes Caitlyn's greatest strength.

Ambessa trains Caitlyn in combat, calls her kin. And teaches Caitlyn the very thing she will one day use to defeat her.. sacrifice

"There are moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down...." (It's quiet uptown, Hamilton)

We are not witnessing the reign of a power hungry despot in Caitlyn. We are seeing a broken and angry young woman whose greatest failing is believing what this vastly more experienced mentor is telling her is the right thing. And even when she knows deep down it's not, cannot bring herself to believe there is any hope left. We are given many examples of the conflict she is feeling:

"Up again?"- We learn from Maddie Caitlyn has not been sleeping well

"I never thought it would go on this long... I don't know what I thought"- Caitlyn expressing clear regret over how things have gone down

Questions Ambessa over Rictus inciting violence

Questions Ambessa as to why peace is always the justification for violence

Has forbidden the use of cells like the one Vi was in

Considers Singed a monster for creating Shimmer

As I have stated in other documents moving forward from here especially we just take off at a dead spring regarding Caitlyn's story. From here on out we are dealing with her making things right with Vi and the fallout of that decision regarding Ambessa, and of her time as the Dictator over the two cities. I know I have done the pivotal moments of Caitlyn's story in the past, but given the pacing here it still seems the best way to dig into this, so that is how I will proceed.

Reunion with Vi & Beginning Of Redemption:

Vi and Caitlyn finally meet again, on the ridge outside of the commune. Caitlyn is scouting and jumps Vi, not realizing who she is due to her appearance. I have spoken on this quite a bit recently, and I even enjoyed a lovely conversation with some people who feel differently than I do. But that being said, this is how this all reads for me. Caitlyn has shut herself off completely to the chance of Vi still caring for her. All that we have seen of Caitlyn during her Dictatorship is that she has essentially given up. She won't risk pulling out of Zaun for fear of something worse happening, she bends to Ambessa with every explanation of why these wrong doings are necessary, you get the idea. So she certainly is closing herself off and distancing herself from the chance of the woman she loves still caring for her. Until she hears her nickname.

Now I have seen someone say that her eyes soften because it means the distance between them, like she is upset. I disagree. Caitlyn is extremely stiff until Vi calls her cupcake. And if Vi was holding her at arms length by using that nickname, she wouldn't trust her with the information about Vander. In truth, it takes the love of her life, a woman who refused to give up on those she cares for completely even in the darkest of times, to reignite hope in Caitlyn that there is a way out of that darkness. And so she makes the decision to help. Now what does that actually mean:

Turning on Ambessa

Losing support of the Noxian soldiers

Losing control of undercity which means Jinx

Starting A War

This takes us to our next moment showing the changes in her. Once the violence in the commune has already started.

Choosing Love: Part One

It's a quick moment. But right then and there the object of all of Caitlyn's hatred and rage is running by her, her back exposed to Caitlyn's rifle, and her eyes never leave Vi

Choosing Love: Part Two

So first of all not the right GIF i know, I couldn't find one of her in Caitlyn's bed for season 2. But the point, is that Caitlyn has been watching over Vi personally in her own room.

Taking Accountability:

Vi wakes from her injuries sustained saving her sisters life, and she and Caitlyn finally have a chance to talk. First and foremost she just looks so downtrodden. She knows how badly she has hurt the people she loves and is trying so hard to hold it together to make things right. But when she and Vi get into the crux of the conversation there are several important moments:

"I KNOW!"- Caitlyn admits to everything Vi is accusing her of

"We can't erase our mistakes, none of us"- Caitlyn including herself in those who have done wrong

Caitlyn then goes to speak with Jinx and gives us another big clue as to where her mind is:

"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes"- Once again, placing herself on level ground with jinx

"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer"- Admitting to hating herself for what she has done

Choosing Love: Part Three

Think back if you will, to the Battle of the Ventilation Chamber. Caitlyn Kiramman, wild eyes, ragged breath, completely enraged beyond reason, tried to take a shot at Jinx that could have easily killed a little girl, and then struck Vi and abandoned her. With everything they have through since that terrible day, Caitlyn has opened the way for the woman she loves, to free her mother's killer if she chooses. And when she finds Vi, she goes to comfort her, to validate her, to let her know that she is loved and that her undying heart is special and worthy of love as well. This is a truly beautiful scene that goes so far past a sex scene it's really hard to put into words how much meaning is conveyed in how it all plays out. There are a lot of excellent breakdowns and such if you wish to look, but for me I will say this. Caitlyn has shown Vi that her love for her is more important than hate could ever be. And in that moment, showed a strength Ambessa herself admitted she does not possess.

The Commander Reborn:

When she was a young girl, Caitlyn was asked a question. "Begs the question young Kiramman, what are you shooting for?" She knows now. Caitlyn stands on the front lines of the battle with her people. She is involved in a variety of incredible action sequences but the point, is that while she did lose herself, her values and her purpose to all of that rage and pain, she found her way back again.

Where once she allowed Ambessa Medarda to put her boot on the neck of the Undercity in the name of Caitlyn's grief, now Caitlyn stands on the front lines against her former mentor at only twenty-four years of age. And it is not without cost. She is stabbed, beaten, almost killed when Maddie's betrayal is revealed, and utilizing Ambessa's lesson sacrifices her own eye to stop her. And that is to say nothing of the mental trauma she has endured. But she is stronger, more resilient, and more sure of herself than she ever was. And, she is no longer alone.

With the occupation of Zaun ended, the council restored, and Caitlyn surrendering the Kiramman seat to none other than Sevika, she and Violet finally are allowed to just live, love, and heal with one another. It seems she has suspicions that Jinx survived the final battle (as we all do) but the show runners made the decision not to address that for now.

Caitlyn's story is truly one of dramatic change. She begins as a well intentioned but naïve enforcer, and ends as a respected commander who shed her own blood to keep the people she once failed safe. She and Vi have immeasurable healing before them, that is undeniable. But in such a dark and violent world, these two souls found one another and clawed their way back to each-other in the face of everything that was thrown at them. And it is through that bond that they will find their happiness.

My friends i went way... way... more in-depth on some of this than I thought. But I thought it was important... I think so much of the nonsense regarding this character is because she being labeled according to a single fast look instead of people seeing the truth of her incredible story. As always with these long ones, i feel like I probably wandered a little and if so I apologize. But I hope I managed to convey the depth of this character in at least some small way. To anyone patient enough to read this I thank you, to those who go even further and respond, I love learning more about this story from you all. Keep standing up for stories that matter.. Til next time!

#arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #vi arcane #caitvi #jinx arcane #caitlyn kiramman #ambessa medarda #vi and caitlyn #caitlyn arcane

143 notes · View notes

antinousletmehit · 5 months ago

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 23 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇I’m gonna get killed for this chapter, character death…

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ─── Telemachus paced furiously through the ruined village, his hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing ragged. The fires still burned around them, the scent of blood thick in the air, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was him. Raphael had been right there. Right there. Wounded. Weak. He could have ended him. He could have killed that bastard and taken her and Adonis back where they belonged.

And yet—he had let him slip away. Again.

“Damn it!” Telemachus roared, driving his fist into the nearest wall. The wood splintered beneath his strength, but the pain did nothing to soothe the rage boiling inside him. His chest heaved, his body trembling with frustration, with regret, with an overwhelming sense of failure. Florus and Acrisios exchanged a look before stepping forward cautiously.

“Telemachus,” Acrisios started, his voice level but firm. “Enough.”

“Enough?!” Telemachus spun on them, his blue eyes wild with fury. “I could have killed him! I could have ended all of this tonight, and now—” His breath shuddered as he ran a hand through his sweat dampened hair. “Now he’s just going to run back to her, to my son—” His voice broke on the last word, rage giving way to something rawer. Florus placed a steady hand on his shoulder, but Telemachus shrugged it off, his body still thrumming with barely restrained anger.

“I should have finished it,” he growled, his jaw tightening. “I should have killed him right then and there.”

Acrisios sighed, crossing his arms. “And what then?” he asked, his tone calm, almost weary. “You think just cutting him down would have magically fixed everything? You think Skiaphos would have just let you walk out with y/n and Adonis without a fight?”

“I don’t care!” Telemachus snapped, stepping toward him. “I would’ve fought them all if I had to! I—” His breath hitched, his body shaking with barely contained frustration. “I’m tired of waiting. Tired of sitting around while that bastard plays house with my family.”

Florus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping in front of him again. “Telemachus, I get it. Gods, I get it. But going in blind is going to get you killed, and then what?” He gestured vaguely at the smoldering ruins around them. “You want y/n to trade one captor for another? You think Adonis needs to grow up knowing his father got himself killed because he couldn’t think straight?”

That hit like a punch to the gut. Telemachus exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping just slightly. He turned away from them, his hands still shaking as he tried to force himself to breathe. “I can’t keep waiting,” he murmured, voice raw. “I won’t.”

Acrisios placed a hand on his shoulder this time, firm and grounding. “Then we plan. Properly this time. No more reckless fights. No more wasted chances.”

Florus nodded. “We’ll get her back, Telemachus. Both of them.”

Telemachus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he stared at the distant horizon—the direction Raphael had fled.

Next time, there would be no escape.

——

The Greek camp was alive with the scent of burning wood and the distant sounds of wounded Skiaphian prisoners being corralled together. But none of that mattered to Eurymachus—not when he was admiring his prize.

She was a young Skiaphian woman, terrified but silent, her dark eyes darting between him and the others as she sat stiffly near his tent. Eurymachus smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. Finally. After all the bloodshed, the long campaigns, the endless nights of fighting, he earned this.

Cassander, however, had other thoughts. “Oh, come on,” Cassander groaned, throwing up his hands. “This is bullshit.”

Eurymachus arched a brow, turning to him with an amused smirk. “Excuse me?”

Cassander jabbed a finger at him, then at the woman. “I did the most fighting today. Who was the one holding the front line? Me. Who took down three Skiaphian warriors while you were fumbling around with some half dead old man? Me.” He gestured wildly. “By all rights, I should get her.”

Eurymachus scoffed. “Oh, please. You got lucky. And besides, you already have a bad habit of losing your war prizes, Cassander.” He smirked, jabbing him in the ribs. “Maybe I should hold onto this one for safekeeping.”

Cassander looked deeply, personally offended. “Excuse me?!”

The two of them started bickering, voices rising as they shoved at each other, completely forgetting about the war prize in question.

And then—Druses arrived.

The moment his towering form loomed over them, both Eurymachus and Cassander immediately shut their mouths. Druses crossed his arms, his purple eyes narrowed with deep, exhausted irritation. He let the silence hang for a moment before finally speaking.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you idiots fighting about?”

Cassander and Eurymachus both started talking at once. “She should be mine—”

“No, I deserve her—”

“I did the most killing today, obviously—”

“Oh, shove it—”

Druses sighed through his nose, his expression darkening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods above, I hate you both.” Then, without another word, he grabbed the war prize by the arm, yanked her to her feet, and started leading her away.

“Wait—what the fuck?” Eurymachus sputtered. “Where are you—?”

Druses shot them both a sharp, withering glare. “You’re grounded from war prizes. Maybe if you two learned how to shut up and act like warriors instead of spoiled children, you’d earn them back.”

Cassander blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he turned to Eurymachus. “Did—did we just get grounded?”

Eurymachus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Un-fucking-believable.”

——

Eurymachus and Cassander were sulking.

It had been hours since Druses unfairly took their war prize, and neither of them were handling it well. They lingered near Druses’ tent like stray dogs, watching as he kept the woman near him—their woman, mind you—as if she was some fragile thing that needed protecting.

“This is bullshit,” Cassander muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he scowled. “We earned her.”

Eurymachus nodded vehemently. “Exactly. Druses didn’t even do anything. He just walked over, took her, and now he’s acting like he’s her fucking guardian or something.”

Cassander scoffed. “We should just take her back.”

Eurymachus grinned. “I like the way you think.”

The two of them strutted toward Druses, who was standing with his back turned, arms crossed as he kept an eye on the war prize. The moment they got close enough, Cassander reached out to grab her wrist— And was promptly kicked straight in the chest.

Cassander let out a wheeze as he was sent flying backward, landing in the dirt with a pathetic grunt. Eurymachus had just enough time to blink before Druses swung around and kicked him too, sending him crashing down right next to Cassander. Druses glared down at them, unimpressed. “I told you two idiots to quit it.”

Eurymachus groaned, rubbing his chest. “Gods, you kick hard.”

Cassander groaned in agreement, still sprawled in the dirt. “I think he cracked a rib.”

Druses rolled his eyes before turning away, clearly thinking the conversation was over. Cassander and Eurymachus exchanged a look. Then—

“Alright,” Eurymachus whispered. “New plan.”

They scrambled up, lunging forward again— Druses elbowed Eurymachus in the face without even looking, sending him straight back down. Cassander managed to get a hand on the woman’s arm before Druses grabbed him by the back of the tunic and threw him like a sack of grain.

The two of them groaned on the ground, again, glaring up at Druses, who merely crossed his arms, looking deeply unimpressed. “You’re both pathetic,” he deadpanned.

Before they could launch another complaint—

A tense, heavy silence fell over the camp.

Eurymachus and Cassander froze. Druses tensed slightly. Even the war prize shifted uncomfortably. They didn’t need to turn around to know who had just arrived. Slowly, they looked over their shoulders—and there stood Telemachus.

And he looked furious.

His jaw was clenched, his blue eyes stormy, his posture rigid as he stalked toward them. His sword was still strapped to his hip, his hands twitching like he was dying to use it. Eurymachus and Cassander immediately straightened up, all traces of their whining gone.

Druses exhaled sharply through his nose, giving them both a look before stepping forward. “Something happen?” he asked, his voice the only one daring to break the silence. Telemachus’ gaze flicked to him briefly before settling back on Eurymachus and Cassander. The two of them stiffened under the weight of it.

“Get your shit together,” Telemachus ordered, his voice low, dangerous. “Now.”

Neither of them hesitated.

“Y-yes, sir,” Eurymachus stammered.

Cassander nodded quickly. “Of course, boss. You got it.”

Druses just sighed, rubbing his temples. “Idiot children,” he muttered.

——

The camp was quiet, save for the crackling of dying fires and the occasional murmur of restless sleep. The scent of blood and smoke from their recent raid still clung to the air, but exhaustion had forced even the most hardened warriors into slumber. Telemachus lay on his side, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his breaths deep but never fully relaxed. He didn’t trust the silence. He never did.

And then—

A sharp whistle.

A second later, a flaming arrow slammed into one of the tents, setting it ablaze.

Then another.

And another.

Shouts erupted as men jolted awake, confusion twisting into panic as the fires spread.

“AMBUSH!”

The warning cry barely had time to leave someone’s mouth before Skiaphian warriors surged into the camp, blades gleaming under the firelight. The Greeks scrambled for their weapons, still sluggish with sleep, as the enemy descended upon them like vultures. Telemachus was up in an instant, sword drawn as he narrowly dodged a spear aimed at his chest. He swung, cutting the enemy down, his mind snapping into battle mode.

A few feet away, Cassander was still wrestling his way out of his bedroll when a Skiaphian soldier lunged at him. “Wait, wait, I’m not even awake yet—!” He barely managed to roll aside, grabbing his shield and bashing it into the attacker’s face.

Eurymachus, on the other hand, had simply punched the first guy he saw, still half-asleep. “Who the fuck—” He finally registered what was happening, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, shit.” He grabbed his sword just in time to block another strike.

Druses, already on his feet, was grinning. He twirled his twin daggers in his hands, purple eyes gleaming under the firelight as he dove into the fray. He cut through the enemy with brutal efficiency, laughing under his breath. “Oh, Enyo’s going to love this.”

Florus had woken up swinging, his movements precise and controlled, but there was a deep-seated frustration in his eyes. “I knew we should’ve set up more defenses,” he muttered, slashing an enemy down.

Acrisios had barely gotten his helmet on before he was forced into a clash, his strikes heavy and merciless. “Where the fuck did they come from?!”

“They must’ve followed us from the last raid,” Telemachus gritted out, driving his sword into another soldier’s gut before turning to scan the battlefield. The camp was in chaos. Tents were burning, men were shouting, the sound of metal clashing filled the night air.

And then—

From the trees, more Skiaphians emerged. Telemachus’ eyes narrowed. They weren’t just here to fight. They were here to finish them. And he’d be damned if he let that happen. “Everyone—hold the line!” he roared, gripping his sword tighter. “We end this now!”

And with that, they charged.The camp was hellfire. Smoke and ash filled the air, mixing with the scent of blood and sweat. The Greeks fought viciously, their initial sluggishness from sleep now fully burned away by the raw instinct to survive. But the Skiaphians weren’t relenting. They pushed harder, their numbers greater than expected, their blades seeking Greek throats, their arrows finding flesh.

And then—

A roar cut through the chaos.

Antinous.

He stormed into the fray like a wrathful beast, his sword already drenched in enemy blood. His long red cloak billowed behind him as he slammed his blade through a Skiaphian’s chest before violently ripping it out. His eyes were wild, teeth bared in a snarl. “Oh, finally!” he growled, cutting another enemy down.

Cassander, still mid-fight, snorted. “Late as always—” He had to duck as Antinous swung his sword a little too close to his head.

Antinous smirked. “Whoops.”

Telemachus was cutting through enemies with precision, his face grim, focused. “We need to push them back!” he called out. “They’re trying to surround us—”

Then a Skiaphian spear whizzed past his face. His eyes snapped to the source—Florus, standing his ground, striking down an enemy, his movements fluid. But then—

It happened too fast.

A blur of motion.

A blade—jagged, brutal—piercing through Florus’ stomach from behind.

For a moment, it was like the battle paused.

Florus stiffened, his breath catching as blood dripped from his lips. His green eyes widened—not in fear, but in stunned realization. His sword slipped from his fingers.

Then—

The Skiaphian soldier twisted the blade. Florus let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking forward. Pisistratus turned just in time to see it happen. “FLORUS!”

But before anyone could react, the enemy ripped the blade out and shoved Florus forward. He collapsed onto his knees. His breath was ragged, uneven. Blood seeped through his armor, staining the ground beneath him.

Antinous, who had just cut down an enemy near him, turned—then froze.

Florus’ body swayed.

Then—he fell.

“No—!” Acrisios dropped his weapon and lunged forward, catching Florus just before he hit the ground. His hands pressed against the wound, desperate, shaking. “Florus, stay with me—stay with us—”

Florus’ lips parted, but no words came out—only a weak, shuddering breath. Telemachus was already hacking his way toward them, eyes dark with fury. Antinous, silent for the first time—just stared. His grip on his sword tightened so hard his knuckles turned white.

Cassander and Eurymachus, who had been bickering just moments ago, stood frozen in place. Druses, blood dripping from his daggers, glanced over—and his expression darkened.

The war still raged around them, but in that moment, none of them cared.

Florus was dying.

And the Skiaphians were about to pay for it.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4|frOgg3r @permanently-nothere

@eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo

@galaxygurIll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee

@minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast

#aphrodites gamble #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #telemachus x reader #antinous x reader

104 notes · View notes

uhhlifeig · 7 months ago

Text

Transfiguration Classroom - Nov. 20 - word count: 659 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The Transfiguration classroom was buzzing with quiet chatter as Professor McGonagall taught about advanced human-to-animal transfiguration.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black sat at the back of the room, side by side as always, quills in hand and parchment scattered across the desk.

“Moony,” Sirius whispered, leaning close, his breath brushing against Remus’s ear.

“Pay attention,” Remus murmured, his eyes fixed on his parchment.

“I am,” the dog animagus replied, grinning wickedly. “To you.”

The taller boy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sirius whispered.

Their hands brushed under the desk- an innocent enough motion, except that Sirius lingered, his fingers lightly tracing the back of Remus’s hand.

He shot him a warning look, but the noiret only raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening.

From the front of the room, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, her sharp eyes flicking briefly in their direction. Both boys immediately snapped their attention to her, though Sirius’s fingers didn’t move.

When the lesson ended, McGonagall dismissed the class with her usual brisk efficiency. When the two boys made to leave, though, she spoke up. “Lupin. Black. A word, please.”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance, confusion and apprehension flashing between them. They traipsed to her desk as the rest of the class filtered out, James and Peter shooting them curious looks on their way to the door.

McGonagall waited until the room was empty before she folded her hands on her desk and fixed them with her signature stern gaze.

“I assume you two think you’re being subtle?”

Remus blinked. “Subtle about what, Professor?”

The Transfiguration professor arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, I’ve been teaching for longer than either of you have been alive. Do you truly believe I haven’t noticed the... antics taking place at the back of my classroom?”

Sirius, for once, looked genuinely caught off guard. “Antics?”

McGonagall sighed. “The whispered conversations. The not-so-inconspicuous hand-holding. The way you”- she pointed at Sirius- “look at Mr. Lupin as if he were your world.”

Remus turned bright red, his mortification only deepening when Sirius gave a smug grin.

“Well, he is,” Sirius said breezily.

The professor pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Black, I assure you, your devotion is apparent to everyone in this castle with a pair of functioning eyes.”

“Now,” she continued, “while I don’t make a habit of involving myself in my students’ personal lives, I must insist that you refrain from turning my classroom into your personal courting grounds.”

The older boy opened his mouth, presumably to make a cheeky comment, but McGonagall cut him off with a look that could curdle milk.

“And for Merlin’s sake,” she added, her lips twitching ever so slightly, “if you insist on continuing these... displays, at least give the rest of us fair warning before you take a roll in the hay together.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as her words sank in. Then:

“Professor!” Remus exclaimed.

Sirius stared at her, mouth agape. “Did you just-?”

“I believe we’re done here,” McGonagall said briskly, standing and gathering her papers. “Good day, gentlemen.”

They left the classroom in stunned silence, their faces still burning as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.

“What did she want?” James asked the moment they stepped inside, lounging in an armchair, with Peter playing chess with Mary on a nearby table.

The dog animagus collapsed onto the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. “She knows.”

“Knows what?” Peter asked, confused.

“Everything,” the werewolf muttered, sinking down beside Sirius and covering his face with his hands.

James leaned forward. “What do you mean everything?”

“She caught us,” Sirius said dramatically. “And then she made a joke.”

The glasses-wearing boy’s eyebrows shot up. “McGonagall? Made a joke?”

“A dirty one.”

James’s jaw dropped.

“I think I need to lie down,” Peter declared.

“I think we all do,” James muttered.

126 notes · View notes

kier-with-a-k · 6 days ago

Text

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐵𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝑌𝑜𝑢 - 𝑀. 𝑆.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑜𝑛 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑡'𝑠 𝑃𝑂𝑉.

Where am I?

No, seriously—where am I? Not in space. Not here. Especially not here.

I’m in that in-between again, right? That split-second of silence before a vinyl spins to life—when the needle hovers just above the grooves, aching to play. Waiting to drown out everything else. That one held breath before the scream. Before the sob. I live there. I am the permanent resident of the pause button.

Disappointment.

Wasted.

Unfulfilled.

That’s me. A ghost of what I could’ve been—dragging chains forged from your expectations down every hallway I haunt. I want to laugh. I want to cry. God, I want to scream so loud my lungs rip apart—but I’m dry. Hollow. Everything’s been sucked out, and all that’s left is this brittle shell. I crack when I move. I flinch when I feel.

You know the funny part?

I just wanted to make you proud. Every stupid thing I did—every rebellion, every self-inflicted scar, every time I got high or ran away or disappeared for days—it wasn’t about escaping you.

It was about reaching you. Proving I mattered.

Even if I had to destroy myself to get there. Even if I had to become everything you were terrified I’d become.

The type to hurt you.

You know I didn’t mean it, right? That time—I didn’t mean to push you so hard. I didn’t know your head would hit the wall like that. I didn’t see the blood ‘til it was too late.

I swear I didn’t mean it.

You believe me… right?

You always do.

Everything I do—everything—traces back to you.

Why is that?

I try to break away. I swear I do. I scream about independence. I dye my hair. I change my voice. I sleep with strangers just to prove I’m not your echo—not yours, not just some withered branch off your perfect, pristine tree. But it all loops back. The orbit never breaks. Even when I drift—I still revolve around you.

And I don’t want your forgiveness. I want your rage. I want you to look at me and feel disgust.

I want you to admit it out loud—that I’m your shame. That I’m everything you never wanted. That I am your failure.

But don’t leave. Don’t walk away. Don’t stop calling. Curse my name, scream until your throat burns—I don’t care. Just don’t forget me.

I need you.

I fucking need you.

And I love you. In the most twisted, pathetic, obsessive way.The kind that eats everything else alive. The kind that makes me hate myself.

You wouldn’t leave me… right?

You love me… right?

Can’t you see that?

Can’t you see I’ve ripped myself open just to show you the truth? That I carved my love for you inside my ribs so every breath hurts? That I burned every bridge so you’d be the only one left on the other side?

I do everything for you. Even the destruction. Especially the destruction.

Because somewhere in the back of my messed-up brain, I thought if you saw me bleeding, you’d come running. You’d pull me from the wreckage. You’d say it’s okay. That you still see the man I used to be. That you still love me.

But all I hear is silence.

Or worse—pity.

That brittle sigh you think I don’t notice. The one that says you’ve already buried me in your mind.

Like you’re just waiting for that call. The one that says I finally slipped—and didn’t bother grabbing the ledge on the way down.

And some nights… I want that. The fall. The nothing.

The end.

Just so I can stop begging. Stop aching. Stop failing.

Stop everything.

Just float in my own abyss. Drowning in misery. Aware, but too far gone to care.

But then—your voice echoes through my skull. And I remember why I’m still breathing. Why I keep crawling through glass just to make it through another day.

It’s you.

It’s always you.

You and that stupid fucking smile.

A/N: what a lovely morning!!! I hope y'all love this as much as I do... LMAO!!! but yeah! This has been sitting in my notesapp for... About 2 weeks now... Lmao! Low key based on Creep by Radiohead.

Taglist: @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @lilyswirly @ev1ldeadboy @mattsfrenchtoast @sweetshuga @chriss-slutt @izzylovesmatt @mattsdiva @mattswrinkleton @estrellawicz

Deciders by THE @bernardsbendystraws

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #the sturniolos #tumblr writers

34 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 2 years ago

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader epilogue - a slow burn series of blurbs

Heaven Knows You Better ~ epilogue

summary: A glimpse into the future.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none, just pure fluff 🧡 a slight mention of drinking a margarita.

authors note: I know you’re tired of hearing me say it, but thank you 🧡 writing this story and sharing it with you will always hold a special place in my heart.

🌆 <- chapter ten

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Three summers later - Beginning of May

The sun hangs bright in the deep blue sky, the air a little crisp from the last bit of the chill still leftover from spring. The heat of summer is just barely on the cusp of breaking through, you can feel it in the way the city starts to come alive again. The red ‘TEAM ALS’ banner blows in the wind as your shoes and Bandit’s paws cross the white finish line. The clapping of strangers on the side lines fills your ears, tugging a smile onto your slightly chapped lips, before you turn around to look at your fiancé.

Steve can’t help his grin back, the whites of his teeth showing when your smile stretches wider at the sight of him. The bottoms of his black running shorts flap in the breeze, revealing more skin at the tops of his thighs that still lights a match deep inside your gut. You don’t think you’ll ever be immune to him. The white socks on his feet are pulled up to his shins, the color of his On Clouds matching the banner above you. The polyester of his dark gray Nike running sweater fits tight across his chest, the zipper on its high neck being tugged by a set of golden blond puppy paws.

“I told you Molly wasn’t gonna make it all the way,” he huffs, a laugh threatening to bubble past his lips when the rambunctious labrador starts licking his stubble covered cheek, pushing up the bill of his black Nike baseball cap.

God, you’ll never not want to kiss him.

“She made it more than half way, give her some credit Steve.” You roll your eyes and he’s proud to say that’s the third one he’s earned today. The first being in your barely unpacked kitchen when he snuck up from behind to blow a raspberry on your neck while making coffee in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You weren’t the one who had to carry the extra ten pounds the last two miles, were you?” He reminds you with a smirk, setting the wiggling puppy down now that she’s regained most of her strength back.

Bandit whines for Steve’s affections, pawing at him when he’s eye level, getting the scratch behind both ears he wanted. The German shepherd wasn’t the only one wanting his attention, and it takes everything inside you not to pout yourself when he stands back up and doesn’t immediately kiss you. Despite the chill, there’s still a sheen of sweat that coats his permanently sun kissed skin, the spice of his cologne becoming more pronounced because of it.

“Thank you for doing this with me baby,” the teasing edge to Steve’s voice is gone, replaced with something softer - made even sweeter as he pulls you closer by waist, his nose bumping with yours when you stand on your tippy toes hooking your free arm around his neck. Your fingers twitch to be in his hair, you hate his hats.

“I’ll do them all with you,” you whisper because it’s just for him, it’s always just for him. His cheeks dust pink like he knows it and his hold on you tightens.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” the words come out soft against your lips, his eyes meeting yours from down the bridge of his nose.

“Three months.”

The reminder makes him close the space that’s left, smiling into the kiss. It still feels like a hundred butterfly’s wings flutter against your rib cage when your lips slot together like they were never meant to be apart. It’s hard to get lost in him the way you want to with hundreds of people around and two dogs that can’t seem to stop their play fighting, tugging harshly on their leashes at your feet. That doesn’t keep Steve from tracing your bottom lip with his tongue when the tips of your fingers find the flyaway hairs sticking out of the bottom of his cap. You giggle against his lips and he can’t find it in himself to be disappointed when you pull away, like he knows you both should because of it.

“Careful, might have to take you downtown right now if you don’t stop,” he teases, biting his bottom lip to stop from kissing you again.

“I don’t think Eddie would ever forgive you for taking away his opportunity to finally be your best man.” Running your hands down his chest, you can feel his groan vibrate under your palms.

“Don’t remind me.” Steve lets you go, finally taking his hat off to reveal a dirty golden mess on top of his head, long fingers running through it.

Bandit whines, nudging Steve’s knee with his snout before rubbing the side of his face against his leg, ignoring the way the puppy jumps and paws at his side.

“I think someone wants to switch.” You grin at the way Steve’s face softens for his favorite boy, offering you Molly’s leash in exchange without a word.

“Someone missed daddy, huh?” Steve asks in the kind of baby voice you know he picked up from you, but the reference to himself still has you clenching like your second date.

Bandit barks in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you untangle the unruly puppy from around him. You give up quickly on letting her walk, picking her up just like Steve had, the wiggling weight of her in your arms has you biting your tongue about how heavy she really is.

“I think we’ve earned a margarita when we get home, right molly?” Hinting at Steve with a smirk tugging at your lips when you kiss the puppies restless snout - it's his turn to roll his eyes.

“Honey, we still need to pack. We leave for New York tomorrow at like nine A.M.” He runs another hand through his hair before putting his hat back on his head and you have to resist pulling it off as you both make your way through the crowd.

“Okay, we can pack and then a margarita… although packing might be a lot more fun after one. Just a thought.” You shrug with fake nonchalance, finally getting a grip on Molly in your arms.

“After we pack and drop off the dogs at Nancy’s.” Steve chuckles, moving to the other side of you so his free hand can find the small of your back, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the soft fabric of your oversized sweater. He could never go too long, he always had to be touching you.

“Deal.” Grinning, pleased with your promised drink, you push up on your toes to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek, heart swelling at the pink that dusts tips of his ears because of it.

9:15pm 🌃

The first sounds of cicadas buzz low in your ears, another reminder that summer was just around the corner while the two of you sit on the porch swing. Steve had set up on the small deck in your backyard. It wasn’t big like the ones in the suburbs but it was just enough for Bandit and Molly to stretch their legs without a leash. The citronella candle that you swore to Steve would work, burns lemon and lavender into the matching dusk sky, still too early in the season to prove yourself right. The stars are still half hidden by the big tree in the corner of your yard that has started to sag from the humidity. Though a lingering chill still nips in the breeze and it has Steve pulling you deeper into his side. The pine of his body wash from the shower you took together just before this mixes in the perfect blend to make your eyes heavy and your heart full.

“You think Nancy’s going to be okay with both of them for five days?” Your question comes out quiet in the calm, your cheek pressed to the cotton of his white shirt. The hard muscles underneath twitching from the warmth of your breath. The ice in your half drank margarita clinks against the glass when your wrist starts to get lazy.

“I think we’re going to have a very well behaved puppy when we get back,” Steve chuckles before relieving you of your hold, setting your cup down next to his on the deck.

You giggle to yourself at the thought, humming in agreement, when he takes the opportunity to really cuddle you now. A big arm wrapping around you while his hand finds yours so he can do his favorite thing. His chin hits the top of your head, and the tips of his fingers tickle while he twirls the diamond ring around your knuckle. You can feel the way his cheeks pull up against your hair, his lips a ghost against the crown of your head, always losing himself in the fact that you said ‘yes.’

“Did you pack the Cubs shirts I got for Gwenny?” Steve asks like he’s trying to think back to the mess of a packing session the two of you had in between stolen kisses and heated touches that always led to more.

“That was the first thing you packed, handsome.” You squeeze his hand, the smirk on your face widening at how obsessed of an uncle he was for the newest addition to the Munson family.

“Oh yeah, I remember now. They are under my dress slacks,” he mumbles, while the pad of his thumb rubs small circles under your ribs where his fingers curl around your side.

Cuddling deeper into his chest a comfortable silence falls between you, the cicadas buzz louder, mixing with the sounds of the city and you wish you could always stay like this, wrapped up in him and the glow of the moon that leaks through the shaking leaves on the tree above you. The silver band he twirls around on your finger makes you realize this is what he’s asking for. A forever of moments just like this one tonight, of first, of lasts, of fingers intertwined, soft touches, stolen kisses and whispered sweet words in the moonlight that feel even sweeter when he says them again in the sunshine.

This is what forever looked like with Steve Harrington, and you always want to be his tough girl.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @chechelia

#my writing #all i really want us you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagines

658 notes · View notes

stsgluver · 2 years ago

Text

I'M HERE – gojo satoru

synopsis. reluctantly, you agree to a new life with two children and your ex. PART TWO OF FOUR.

wc. 3.4k

tags. angst, swearing, happy ending-ish, spoilers for s2

“get out.”

satoru flinches at the coldness in your tone, and you want to scoff. as if though he gets to be the one who’s hurt right now. your hands ache and your head feels like it’s imploding as you struggle to take in everything he says. it’s too much, too important, too soon.

a year has passed but you’ve barely had the chance to accept how cruel he’d been when he pushed you away, like you had meant nothing. like you hadn’t spent almost three years side-by-side, majority of that as his girl.

gojo satoru is someone who always got what he wants – and he got you. he had all of you: mind, body, and soul… but that wasn’t enough for him. you weren’t enough for him.

“yn–” again, he tries reaching for you and, again, you reject the advancement, standing up abruptly to ensure you can keep the space between the two of you. you swallow thickly and point towards your half open door. gojo’s eyes don’t follow the direction of your hand, instead staying intently on your face as he indulges himself in his favourite picture, even if that picture is stained with damp streaks.

“get out,” you repeat slowly. he needs to leave you in peace again – or whatever peace you’d come to accept after his sudden departure from your orbit. as much as you hate him, your body and mind is still intuitive with his. it feels wrong to watch him cry and not try and comfort him, and from his actions and the way his hands remain stiff at his sides, fidgeting with the material of his pants, you know he feels the same.

after all he just confessed his love for you, you’re aware of how he feels. but you don’t know what he’s thinking and that terrifies you.

“please.” he is begging, the strongest sorcerer alive is pleading for you, but you’re not sure what he expects you to say. i love you? let’s get back together? yes, i’ll totally take care of that monster’s children with you? i’m totally fine even though my best friend decided to murder a tonne of people and then you broke up with me and then i spent 12 months trying not to die on insane missions that i was sent on because the higher ups hate me and i don’t have you as a buffer anymore?

you scoff, arms crossing in front of as you roll your eyes at his ignorance to your suffering, “gojo satoru, i swear to go–”

“woah, woah, what’s going on in here?”

your eyes dart to the door and you have never been so happy to hear the voice of your dear friend, shoko ieiri. in one hand is her usual unlit cigarette (she swears she’s quitting for real this time, she just needs the comfort of one in her hand), and in the other is her phone. you assume she must’ve been distracted by a call and that’s why he was able to come into the room and not her.

since satoru had put up this wall between the two of you, shoko had been your shoulder to lean on and you know she wouldn’t have just let him waltz in without her support. you thought he was your person, and shoko had watched as you fell apart alone and without him.

you don’t want to know what you look like if it’s anywhere close to how horrible you feel right now. your heart aches and every stitch you had made to patch back together your heart are slowly coming loose. there’s probably mascara running down your cheeks by this point and you’re thirty more seconds of being in satoru’s presence from breaking down into full on sobs as you relive the loss of him and geto.

shoko, your saviour and rock for the past twelve months, comes to your rescue. “what are you going here?” she asks in an accusatory tone towards satoru, head tilted with a raised brow. it hadn’t just been you that satoru had pushed away twelve months ago – it had been everyone. but you know that shoko has still managed to maintain some relationship with him, and from the way his shoulder deflates, he’s smart enough to not burn that bridge too.

“leaving,” satoru responds curtly, brushing past shoko as he makes his swift exit. well, his infinity brushes past shoko and she flips his back the middle finger as she’s gently pushed aside by the invisible force.

you drop down onto your back on your empty bed, both hands covering your face as you try to relax your heartbeat again that runs high wire. you’d be lying if you said you don’t miss satoru; miss seeing him in your room after a long mission or long day of lessons; miss waking up to his raspy voice as he pokes you in the side to wake you up for class; miss being loved by him.

“i thought he was still giving you the silent treatment.”

peeking between your fingers, you glance over to shoko who’s flicking through your open boxes full of your life of the last four years. “i wish he still was,” you admit, voice a little more stable now that you’re not in the middle of crying. the tears have stopped but your cheeks are still flushed red. “has he really taken in fushiguro’s kids?”

“one’s his, the other is his step daughter,” shoko responds, as though that is common knowledge.

you frown, sitting back up, hands in your lap. “you knew then?” shoko pauses her snooping but doesn’t look back at you. if there’s one thing you and satoru still have in common, is lashing out when you’re upset. ironic given how much you hate him for it.

“he has… changed. y’know, since geto,” shoko clarifies. the name itself makes you bite down on your tongue and the never ending ache you’re enduring reminds you why you need to leave this place.

“no shit,” you bite back and shoko gives you a blank look. “i’m sorry.” she’d been with you every night for the first month following the break up, she is the reason you are still alive following your sudden increase in mission difficulty. she had been the first to talk shit about satoru or throw random objects at him and just hope his infinity just so happened not to be active (it always was).

“don’t apologise, say whatever you want to me,” shoko shrugs, offering you a sad smile, “i’ll never leave.” three simple words that hold more meaning than you could’ve ever comprehended twelve months ago.

“thank you, love you always.” the two of you share a brief hug (shoko’s never been one for overtly physical affection).

“good,” shoko pulls back first, checking her phone before waving it in your face. there’s a message but you can’t make it out as she shakes the screen, “now more importantly, are you ready to go? nanami said that he wants to take the next train into the city.”

“can you just give me a minute?” you gesture to the last boxes that you needed to close up – the school had been kind enough to sort out the removal of your belongings (shocker) so all you need to do is just get to the airport and make your plane.

“of course,” shoko nods understandingly. the split in your class had only led to the two of you coming closer. blood aside, she is and would always be your sister. you know she isn’t happy that you’re quitting sorcery but she knows she can’t keep you happy here, so she’s kept her complaints to herself.

there’s a soft click as your door closes and you breathe out a sigh of relief. satoru’s words still sit at the back of your mind (‘i love you, i’ve got two kids’ – like what?!), and then you flinch as you remember the wounds that have only just healed on your arm – one of which being a large gash that would’ve killed you had you not been so close to the school when you’d been caught off guard by the curse. this world isn’t for you.

maybe in another life, one where geto never left the school and satoru never left you, but that is not this life.

grabbing your tape, you go to close the box that shoko had been flicking through when the flash of a familiar photo catches your eye. you hesitate but ultimately that feeling of home consumes you and you can’t stop yourself from lifting the frame from the box.

it’s you and satoru and geto and shoko and nanami and even haibara.

you remember when the photo was taken: the middle of summer in your second year. satoru and geto had forgone their uniform jackets, the former having one arm around the latter and the other around you. shoko is next to geto and the two second years follow after them. she’s wearing satoru’s glasses as she often did steal them. you’re all smiling – even nanami – and you can’t stop yourself from mirroring the same expression.

those were better times, one where the responsibility and stress of being a sorcerer was only a whispered warning. within a short period that would all fall apart. your teenage years cut short and your innocences stolen following fushiguro toji’s attack.

fushiguro…

you think of his children, the life they will never be able to have because of the thing they are associated with, and the power they've inherited. the children that your ex boyfriend has oh so generously taken in.

it’s still ingrained in your mind; the sound of geto’s voice over the phone as he struggled to breathe, let alone speak. riko is dead, satoru is dead. that’s all he could repeat over, and over, and over, again. it had been shoko he’d called put you’d been there as she put it on speaker. if it weren’t for nanami being beside you you would’ve collapsed to your knees as you refused to accept what he was saying.

the next few hours were a blur, shoko saving geto, geto going to retrieve satoru, satoru being alive…

he changed after that. it wasn’t overly apparent, not just to anyone, but you were his girlfriend. he’d reached a state of ‘enlightenment’, as he called it, his cursed technique now far superior to any other sorcerer alive (not that it wasn’t already).

the seven of you never deserved what happened to you – haibara especially never deserved to have his life cut short and the more you remember, the more you decide these children don’t deserve that either.

you bite down on your lip as you realise the conclusion that you’re beginning to come to. one that you’re not 100% sure you won’t regret in the coming months.

to nanami: i’m sorry i’m not going to make it on the train

from nanami: don’t worry, shoko already let me know you’d probably changed your mind

from nanami: stay safe x

you smile down at your phone. nanami is the closest you’ll ever get to a little brother and even if you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, you’re glad he’s escaping this hell.

to unknown: meet me at the old park.

from unknown: what about your plane?

to unknown: 2pm

it’s for those kids, you remind yourself, not for him.

despite being the one to choose the meeting location and time, you’re late and you’re already almost in tears yet again. the park was a regular for you, satoru, geto and shoko as teens. shoko and geto would climb up onto the roof of the public bathrooms to smoke whilst satoru made you push his lanky frame on the big swings. those nights practically always ended at dawn, and no matter how sneaky the four of you thought you were, yaga always caught you sneaking back onto the school campus.

things were so much simpler and you were so happy. a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions your experiencing now.

you’d chosen the park to give yourself an advantage, to remind satoru of the memories he could only remember and never relive. it was his fault he’d lost that…

…though even as you think that you know that you’re putting him at too much fault. everything was lost the second geto chose to make the first kill. none of you could’ve stopped that.

shaking your head and brushing your hands down the front of your clothes to brush off the invisible dust and compose yourself, your eyes scan the park for a white haired beanpole and two children.

it’s not difficult to find the children as the boy – megumi, you think shoko said (she’d given you a quick debrief of what satoru had told her about the children over the phone on your walk there) – is a mini version of his dad. a shudder ran down your spine involuntarily the instant your eye caught sight of the spiky-haired boy. you try to push away the unease; it’s likely megumi barely even knows or remembers his dad, or at least you hope for his sake he doesn’t. either way it’s not far for you to cast judgement yet. the sister is close behind him, running circles around a slide four times their heights.

satoru is sitting on a bench, his gaze focused on the two small children. well, you assume so since that's the way his head is turned. he’s wearing his usual black glasses and tokyo uniform. to any outsider, he looks bored, like an older brother forced to take care of his siblings as his long limbs lounge on the bench. but you know better – his knee is bouncing and he keeps running one hand through his white hair, revealing an undercut beneath it. he’s just as stressed as you are.

good, as he should be.

he knows you're there. he’s a special grade sorcerer after all, probably the most powerful of them all, he must’ve sensed your cursed energy the second you came within a mile of this place. still, he doesn’t turn his head, even as you walk down the path to him.

though somewhere deep down you still long for him and what you had, every step closer you feel the same anger and resentment towards him bubbling up and threatening to spill over the surface. meeting him in a public area with impressionable children’s ears around is definitely not your finest idea. you’re within several yards from him now and you’re really starting to think this is a bad idea.

satoru is a bad idea.

sitting gingerly on the edge of the bench next to him, you pick quietly at the skin around your nails. neither of you speak for several minutes. satoru still seems too afraid to even acknowledge that you’re there. he’s woken up too many times from a dream with you in his arms to an empty bed that he lay in alone, no trace of your perfume on the other side of the bed anymore.

the tension between you two is thick and palpable.

“they’re cute kids.” you’re the one to break the silence as the two of them begin climbing a spider web apparatus. satoru hums in agreement and his knee slowly halts its bouncing.

there’s two beats before you let your frustration spill over the edge. “you’re a dick you know that?” so much for your concern about doing this in this locatiom.

satoru’s mouth slacks a little, and he begins to utter something but you shake your head at him to cut him off.

“that was rhetorical. there’s no defending or denying that. it’s fact,” you laugh dryly, crossing your arms in front of yourself as you watch on at the park. in the corner of your eyes, you can see satoru slip off his glasses revealing his own cerulean eyes to you. you avoid them though, if you are going to stay and make this work you need to get all of this off your chest. and preferably without balling your eyes out again.

“i cried a lot at first,” you continue, “blamed myself for suguru turning away,” he winces and does so again when you cement that point, “blamed myself for taking your best friend from you. i started having those nightmares of haibara calling me a murderer again.” he knows every word you say is true – he caused the former and he would be the one you’d come to when the latter had first started. it breaks his heart to be reminded of the agony he caused you – how he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces from the damage he caused.

following haibara’s death, there were some nights neither of you would get any sleep. you were afraid of what you’d see when you closed your eyes and satoru was afraid of losing you. so he would stay up with you, more often than not sitting against the backboard of the bed, your body curled up tightly against his as you watched funny compilations on his phone (he thought they were hilarious, you just wanted to hear his laugh). for satoru to throw that back in your face after geto’s defection tarnished any comfort you’d ever associated with him.

it didn’t matter that he’d carved a permanent spot in your heart, the idea of letting him in that close again sends shudders down your spine. he had you in the palm of his hands and he destroyed you.

you take a deep breath and dare to glance over at satoru. his expression is blank but his eyes scream how he feels, the swirls of blue glassy as you relay all that he put you through.

he had been aware of the hurt he’d caused you – of course he had, he felt it too – seen it on your face when you’d pass him in the hallways. you lacked enthusiasm in class and often went on missions alone without complaint (something you never previously did because how dare the higher-ups send you on a job hours away without anyone to talk to).

“and then i nearly died.” satoru’s brows furrow at this, he’d still kept tabs on you to a certain extent. so how had this slipped through the cracks? “two grade one curses among other nuisances,” you hum, “i shouldn’t have been there alone… but i wasn’t surprised the higher ups had sent me.” there’s something else missing there, how you would’ve never been sent on such a mission of satoru was still with you. the higher ups hated the power you held over their special grade, but they weren’t stupid enough to put you in significant harm’s way when you were together.

“i’m sor–”

“gojo! can we get some ice cream?” tsumiki runs up to the two of you, cutting off his futile attempt at an apology. her little cheeks are flushed red from the exercise and megumi pokes his head out from behind her, eyes zeroed in on you.

“who are you?”

you flicker your gaze between satoru and the children who are awaiting your answer. for once, the white-haired sorcerer is at a loss for words. you want to scoff.

standing up, you offer a small smile, “just a friend.” you point to the ice cream parlour on the opposite side of the park and nudge satoru’s shoulder gently, “go treat them to ice cream. we can talk about the logistics of this later.”

“this?” he repeats, sitting up straight, and a flash of hope dashes across his features. “so you’re staying?”

tsumiki’s eyes are bright and full of excitement at the prospect of a treat and it reminds you of haibara. you blink harshly and quickly as you try not to let a tear slip past.

“they deserve better than what we had.” what you had.

series masterlist

a/n. next part will defo be the longest part!! expect fluff, angst, some spice, the whole SHEBANG. I have mocks coming up soon but I'm hoping the next instalment will be up in the next 3-4 weeks. thank you all for being so patient and I hope this meets expectations <3

also a massive thank you to @bontensh0e because they massively helped with the inspo for the rest of the series. ly loads <333

taglist. @sanokiss. @dummyf. @erenssin. @makiuchiha97. @sosoa. @cole-silas. @fenrysashryver. @istanuwow. @dovahkiinsbitch. @mor-pheus. @creolequeen11210. @thefictionalcharacterssimp. @mariapierce789. @cynopcis.

#— toru!!#satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru

683 notes · View notes

belit0 · 3 months ago

Note

Izuna babysitting Madara's granddaughter

How would that go?

I LOVE THIS OMFG IZUNA IS MY BABY BOY I LOVE MY IZUNA SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PLUS HE'S SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE BUT THE FUNNY UNCLE AT THE END OF THE DAY (let's call them uncle/nice just to make it easier, I always mess up with those things xd)

Babysitting gone wrong (or right, if you ask Izuna)

Madara crosses his arms, fixing Izuna with a stare so sharp it could cut stone. His granddaughter stands beside him, her small hands folded neatly in front of her, watching the exchange with wide, expectant eyes.

-Listen to me carefully, Izuna.- Madara’s voice is grave, as if entrusting him with the fate of the entire clan rather than a seven-year-old child. -No chaos. No dangerous activities. No setting anything on fire. No encouraging bad behavior. Just watch her until I return.-

Izuna leans back, tilting his head. -Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. Got it.-

Madara narrows his eyes. -Repeat it.-

Izuna exhales dramatically. -No chaos. No fun. No good time whatsoever. No training in the art of war. No leading her down the righteous path of Uchiha rebellion. Basically, be a Senju for the day.- He grins. -I’d rather die, but okay.-

Madara pinches the bridge of his nose. -Just keep her alive.-

-Alive? That I can do.- Izuna shoots his niece a smirk. -But thriving? That’s a different story.-

Madara sighs. -I’ll be back before sundown. Don’t make me regret this.-

With one last suspicious glance, he leaves.

The second Madara disappears, his granddaughter tugs on Izuna’s sleeve, eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement.

-Uncle, I want to do something fun.

Izuna crouches down to her level, considering. -Kay... we can burn a tree if you want?-

Her face lights up. -Yes!-

Izuna grins. -That’s my girl.-

And thus, chaos begins:

Wrestling a particularly aggressive rooster in a neighbor’s yard

It started as an innocent challenge.

-Do you think you could take on that rooster?- Izuna had asked.

-I know I can,- his niece had replied, rolling up her sleeves.

The rooster won. (Temporarily. Until Izuna intervened. Now the rooster has a newfound fear of Uchihas.)

Throwing shuriken at apples balanced on each other’s heads

-Precision is an important skill,- Izuna reasoned, carefully placing an apple on his niece’s head.

-Are you sure about this uncle?- she asked, already lifting a shuriken.

-Absolutely.

-Okay, but if I hit you instead of the apple, don’t be mad.

-I would be proud.- (She missed three times, but that’s beside the point.)

Dueling with real swords (but, like, carefully)

-Uncle, Grandpa said I'm too young to handle a sword.

-That’s because Grandpa Madara is boring.

-Are you sure I won’t cut myself?

-Of course not!- (He was not sure at all.)

Miraculously, neither of them got seriously injured—though Izuna now has a suspiciously long cut on his sleeve that he will absolutely lie about later.

Trying to summon a toad with a stolen summoning scroll

-Wait, uncle, this isn’t yours?

-Semantics.

-Is this allowed?

-We’ll find out.- (They found out. It was not allowed. The toad was also way bigger than expected.)

Challenging a merchant to a spicy food contest and almost passing out

It started when Izuna spotted a vendor boasting about his "hottest dumplings in the land."

-That’s a challenge,- Izuna muttered, dragging his niece over.

-Uncle, I don’t think this is a good idea.

-Your lack of faith disappoints me.

…Izuna immediately regretted his life choices. His niece fared slightly better but still had tears in her eyes. They both swore never to speak of this again.

Riding a makeshift sled down a dangerously steep hill

-This is a bad idea,- his niece whispered as they positioned themselves on a wooden plank.

-The best ideas usually are,- Izuna countered, pushing off.

It was all fun and games until they hit a bump and launched into the air, landing in a muddy pond.

-That was awesome!- she cheered.

-…Don’t tell Grandpa Madara,- Izuna wheezed from the ground.

Madara Regrets Everything

He returns early. Not because he trusts Izuna—precisely the opposite.

He knows his brother, knows that the longer he is left unsupervised, the higher the chance something catastrophic will happen.

By the time he is back, Izuna and his granddaughter are sitting in the yard, covered in mud, scratches, and suspiciously singed clothing.

A nearby tree is still smoldering.

Madara takes one long, slow inhale, rubbing his temples.

-What. Happened.

Izuna tilts his head. -That’s… a broad question Aniki.-

His granddaughter pipes up. -We fought a rooster, set a tree on fire, tried summoning a toad, and!—

-STOP.- Madara’s eye twitches. He turns to Izuna. -I trusted you with one thing. One.-

-And I kept her alive!- Izuna gestures to the small child, who is grinning. -Look at her! She had the time of her life!-

Madara’s granddaughter nods eagerly. -We did so many cool things, Grandpa!-

Madara exhales sharply, looking like he is seriously considering murder.

Izuna leans over to his niece. -Next time, we’ll find an even bigger tree.-

She gasps. -Really?-

-There won’t be a next time.- Madara’s voice is final.

Izuna smirks. -That’s what you think.-

#naruto shippuden #naruto #naruto imagines #uchiha clan #uchiha izuna #izuna #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #izuna uchiha #madara

74 notes · View notes

harpsinfinity · 2 months ago

Text

Recklessly in love with you

Piers nivans x afab!fem!reader

smut & fluff !!

→ you and piers have a burning hatered towards eachother. tension boils over when you get injured during a mission

AO3 saw it first (literally an hour before)

WC: 4k (my longest fic yet !!)

→ song:

Hate isn't the word to use to describe your feelings, you and Piers purely loathed each other. It wasn’t rare to catch the pair of you at each other's throats, whether it be for something small or not

Piers thought you were reckless, mouthy, and irritating. So damn irritating. Even though he was your superior, you weren't shy to run your mouth when you disagreed with him on something, quick to point out and mock any tiny mistake he made. It grated his nerves to no end.

Meanwhile, you thought he was a major control freak. Just because the captain is going AWOL he's decided to step up from second in command to first in command. He wasn't your captain, so why should you listen to him?

He prized himself for having patience, especially when dealing with Captain Redfield’s frequent outbursts. That was until you joined the team. You just knew how to press his buttons when you needed to, he wondered if you really hated him or if you just got off to constantly angering him.

(if Piers could pay to see anything, he’d pay to see you finally get your teeth knocked in by the next person you decided to mouth off at)

This time however it wasn’t your snide remarks or mockery that got the better of him; It was your recklessness. In the middle of an already heated mission and coming face to face with a b.o.w. It was a big thing, in fact the team was lucky enough to be presented with two of the freakish things. And with the added task of destroying gun turrets, it certainly was a handful.

You had stupidly decided to jump atop of one of the giant creatures, tugging and pulling with all your strength until the metal attached to its flesh ripped off, its blood splatting across your cheek. Gross. It squealed and shook, throwing you off it as it perished and fell to its death. You fell from a great height, the rubble around somehow cushioning your fall. Not entirely, but enough to avoid any broken bones, getting out with just a few cuts and scrapes which would heal in no time.

You could still fight, you knew it, Chris knew it. Yet piers was insistent on doing a full body check, not excluding one of his lectures as he hurried himself around the medical tent in the makeshift base that had been set up

You were set on cot, palm digging into the skin of your cheek, watching Piers go on a rant about safety, and how you shouldn't prance around like you had a death wish. The usual boring nonsense.

“What were you thinking ?!” he growled, moving with fluid movements around the tent to acquire a medical kit. “I mean, really? Throwing yourself onto a b.o.w like that, it’s like you wanna get your ass killed !” he scoffed

You couldn’t help the usual annoyance fill you, rolling your eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh “I'm alive aren’t i? Still in one piece”

Leaning to rest your elbows on your knees as you stared him down,

“And anyway, I managed to stop that big b.o.w from flattening us like pancakes! Spare me the lecture piers, Goddamn.” You retorted in a heated tone

Piers’ jaw ticked, facing you with nothing but anger in his eyes and furrowed brows, med kit now in hand as he kneeled in front of you

"that's not the point !” he argued back “as your lieutenant it is my job to keep your sorry ass alive, and i can’t do that when you put yourself in situations like you did back there”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to calm his nerves and exhaling deeply before opening the med kit, though you could still see the vexation etched in his features, most prominent in his hazel eyes. Piers clicks open the med kit, rummaging around before pulling out an antiseptic liquid and a cloth

He dabs a generous amount of antiseptic onto the fabric before holding it up to the side of your face

“This’ll sting”

He mutters, beginning to clean up the scrape and blood along your cheek. Your jaw clenches as you hiss in pain and flinch away

“Fucking hell !” You grit out

A gloved hand grips your jaw, not hard but firm to keep you in place

“Stay still” he states firmly, clicking his tongue in irritation

You sigh, letting him do his work. After an exhausting day, you were not in the mood to argue with him or hear any more of his rants today

You knew you'd be fine. But piers, the paranoid freak he was, would be fretting about possible infection. It was admirable, you'd admit. The way he subtly cared for the other soldiers on his team

You saw the way he’d eye everyone down after an encounter with a bioweapon, subtly checking for any signs of injury. Or the way you noticed he’d slip behind everyone, keeping a watchful eye over everyone, ready for whatever danger comes.

Even though you were sure he hated your guts, here he was, cleaning your cuts for you.

“You need to be more careful” piers spoke, both his voice and expression softening “I can't risk losing any more soldiers”

Some part of that made your stomach flutter. The fact that even after the insane amount of heated disagreements and death stares, he still worried about you.

It made you wonder, did he really hate you?

And, did you really hate him?

You couldn't lie to yourself anymore; somewhere along this shit show of a mission you'd begun to see Piers in a different light. You started to love those hazel eyes, no matter what emotion they bore into yours

Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, lost in what to reply with. You knew what you did was a dangerous idea. Yes, you could've gotten hurt, or even lost your life. But you were still here, right?

“piers..” you spoke, voice coming out quieter than expected “I'm sorry..”

The movement of the cloth along your cheek ceased, the man's eyes meeting yours. Of surprise or bewilderment you didn't know

An amused huff was what answered your thoughts

“So you do know how to apologise?” Piers gave you a teasing look “you're just full of surprises”

You cut your eyes at him, almost playfully “shut up, nivans” you retorted, leaning your head aside to give him room to clean up your neck

“y’know, you're one of my best soldiers out there”

That was rare, new, even. To hear something other than a reprimand or receive a heated glare and a clenched jaw

Piers continued:

“Even if you do have a habit of running your mouth”

You scoff at his teasing remark, crossing your arms

“You're not to innocent yourself and you know it” you shoot back, crossing your arms

The cloth, now long gone, wasn't missed as piers’ hands planted themselves on the cot, either side of your hips as he tilted himself forward. A grin tugging at his lips, something you'd never received from his before

This was probably the first time the two of you were able to sit in each others presence without starting to fight like a pair or coyotes tussling over scraps

“don't I know it” he hummed in agreement, a glint of..something in those hazel eyes

After the small distraction you'd offered, he returned to his original objective

“Look, I need you fighting fit 24/7. Yes, occasionally impulsive actions benefit the situation, but not always.” he digressed, the pair of you unaware of how close your faces had come together

“With the captain's condition, I'm handling two jobs at once. I need a soldier like you. I can't..I can't lose you”

You snort, a smirk placed upon your features

“Getting all soft on me, lieutenant?”

“Don't start” he retorts, giving a roll of his eyes

As if two magnets were colliding, time seemed to stop as piers' lips met yours. The kiss was slow and gentle, testing the waters, seeing how far he was able to push. It was like time seemed to stop as piers took in the sugary taste of your sweet lips on his.

Even if the action took you by surprise, it wasn't unwelcomed. Letting yourself pull him closer, a hand making itself home on the back of his head. You felt the dusty brown locks of his hair, stupidly soft as you pulled him closer.

You deepened the kiss with ease, moving with his lips in a tantalising way. Piers' hands slid up, settling on your hips. The warmth of his palms seeped into your skin through the fabric of your pants, causing a soft moan to spill as you gladly leaned into his tender touch

Much to yours and his dismay, your lips parted from each other after moments. Taking in the faint pink dusting his cheeks as his eyes burned into yours, full of tenderness and adoration

“You have..no clue how damn long I wanted to do that” piers breathed out against your skin, a hand travelling upwards to caress your side

“me too, piers” you confessed, wearing the same, matching, rosy hue on your cheeks “throughout all of our fights, somewhere along the way..I fell for you. More than I'd like to admit”

A smile graced piers' face, lit up as you had basically mirrored his feelings, his forehead was pressed against yours, lips just barely touching yet again

“giving me all that attitude while you were practically love struck? You're ridiculous” he responded in a breathy laugh before capturing your lips again

From there, it took a heated turn. The kiss heated up instantly and deepened. It was as if his touch was electric, sending sparks of dopamine up your spine as you moved your lips in desperate tandem with his, sent straight to between your thighs

His tongue pressed against your lips, silently asking for entry. You let him in, tangling yours with his, hearing a groan when your nails ran through his hair, raking his scalp. His hair was softer than you imagined, you were almost jealous

“Christ, you're perfect” he murmured between kisses.

Piers pushed a hand against your chest, lowering you to your back so he had to opportunity to settle on top of you, knees on either side of your hips as he straddled you

Your own hands met his shoulders as soft, wet kisses were stuck to your skin, lips working their way down your neck. He gifted the occasional mark, sucking until a noticeable mark was left in place, meanwhile he pawed as your shirt, slipping under to the soft skin of your stomach

It wasn't long before piers bunched it up, freeing you off the fabric. You gasped, nipples hardening into peaks from being exposed to the cool air of the tent

Your pants didn't last much longer, belt being impatiently fumbled with. Then hooking his fingers around the waist, pulling down your panties with it in one swift motion, lifting your hips to aid him.

Now you were completely exposed to piers as he leaned back to admire you, committing to the memory of your every curve, beauty mark, scar.

“You're so beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful” he spoke with nothing but affection, love, and desire. Desire for you

A lovestruck smile played on your lips, peering up at him with heart shaped eyes. You tugged at the hem of his vest

“You next, please?”

He hummed in response, pulling off his shemagh from around his neck, discarding it while the rest came with. After his pants, he was just as bare as you, save for his boxers.

Your eyes roamed his figure, he wasn't as muscular as someone like Chris, but you knew he was strong. He had a subtle definition of muscle to his arms, shoulders, abdomen. It nearly made you drool,

You even had the treat of the print of his cock pressing against the fabric of his boxers. Holding back a moan at the small wet patch forming on the front of them

“So…?” He asks, lips returning to your skin, running along your shoulder

“fuck, you're so pretty” you whined out, swallowing the lump in your throat

He huffs a fond laugh “yeah? You think so?”

“mhmmm” you hum, letting him drop his head to your chest. A sharp moan coming forth as piers wrapped his soft lips around your sensitive nipple, pinching and kneading at your other breast

Your chest eagerly arched into his touch, fueling the burning heat in your core, inner thighs covered in sheer arousal.

He switched positions with your other breast. Leaving your nipples slick to the cold air and tingling as he continued his journey down your body. Your skin was scorching hot against his lips as a plethora of kisses and marks were pressed to the length of your torso

His mouth managed to leave a trail of invisible fire in its wake, only turning you on more. Aching to have something, any part of him

Sticking a kiss between the bends of where your hips meet your leg, they were swiftly propped up upon his shoulders.

Piers' hot breath billowed across the slick of your pussy. Your poor clit was swollen and twitching for his touch, it almost hurt. Almost

Just when you thought he was finally going to dive into you; he decided to tease you further. Turning his head to the side and kissing along your inner thigh. Getting so, so close to where you needed him most. Only to turn his head to the other side and give your other thigh the same treatment

“Piers!” You whine out in frustration, bottom lip jutting out

“what?” He feigned innocent, as if he didn't know exactly what he was doing to you

“you know what!” You groan, fruitlessly grasping as the back of his head

He laughed, shoulders subtly shaking as he listened to your little dilemma

"so impatient” he muttered in mock-annoyance

Finally, he snuck a kiss to your pearl before enclosing his mouth around it and sucking. It pulled a keen from you, hips jerking at the sharp shoot of pleasure

Your fingers tangled in his short hair, coaxing him to keep going, he flattened his tongue so you could grind against it. The wet muscle sending stars into your vision. Much to your disappointment piers let go of your clit with a wet ‘pop’, leaving it throbbing and pulsing as he worked his way even further down

Using his thumbs, he parted your folds. He had the perfect view of your hole, leaking slick for him. He dove in like you were his last meal, tongue-fucking you and slurping at your juices

He groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending pure bliss straight to your head

“Holy shit, you taste so good” he commented, muffled between your thighs “gonna get me addicted, sweetheart”

The tip of his perfect nose nudged at your clit relentlessly as piers licked and sucked at your entrance, drinking in your essence like he needed it to live

Sliding up your waist, you felt a hand come to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your spit-slicked nipple. Moans spilt freely as his mouth worked on you

You couldn’t imagine what the team would think, the two people that they assumed wanted each other dead, one of them currently stuffing their head between the others legs and eating them out like they were starved. It made you wonder if the noises you were producing were audible outside the confines of the tent

A pair of thick fingers circle your slit, violently pulling you out of your thoughts. Your breath catches in your throat when they slip inside, already searching for that weak spot. You yelp as piers lips capture your clit again, creating a vacuum that had you melting and mindlessly bucking your hips once more

Flicking your eyes down to him, you couldn’t help but tighten around his digits. Face flushed, his lips covered in your slick. You could tell he was drunk on you, his eyes covered in a daze, furrowed brows. His desperate look was enough to have you clenching around him

You jolt when his fingers find that gooey spot that has you squealing and leaking more slick down his wrist, you choke out his name, clawing at the wrist of the hand groping your breast

“Piers !”

A groan meets your words “oh fuck, you sound so good sayin’ my name like that”

You notice his own hips bucking against the material of the cot, needing is own type of friction as he worked you higher and higher

With every precise jab of his fingers, it wasn’t surprising as a sharp coil dared to wind itself in the bottom of your abdomen. It shot up your spine, exploding in molten warmth and leaving your brain melting

Your hips jerked, clit grinding against piers’ tongue as you chased your high mindlessly. He works his way up, pressing sloppy kisses to your lower torso, causing tingles and butterflies in your stomach

Thighs shaking, clamping around his fingers and crying out in ecstasy. Your nails dig into the skin of piers' wrist, little half moons forming on the flesh

“Oh god! I-im-”

“C'mon, I've got you babe”

Your whole being jolts, eyes screwed shut as you had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms you've ever experienced. Throwing your arm across your face and keeping up the cries of delight

Piers never stopped the abuse to your g-spot, prolonging your overwhelming pleasure. Driving you near to the edge of overstimulation.

He didn't stop until you were gasping for air, chest heaving. His fingers leaving you with an emptiness you didn't like, a whine ringing out

A love drunk grin took over his features as he brought himself up, bare chests flush against each other. His lips slot over yours once more, providing a sweet and tender kiss with his hands roaming your skin, warm and rough.

"Didn’t expect you to be that good, nivans” you breathe out, a teasing smirk on your lips

“Oh, i’ll show you good” he replied, a devious grin on his face

He hooks a thumb into his waistband and tugs until down to his mid thigh, his cock exposed to your gaze. Fuck, he was bigger than you expected, it had you dripping and wanting him even more

He brings himself to your entrance, gripping his cock to rub the swollen tip across your folds, making you let out a low moan when it caught your clit before finally beginning to sink the tip in. You grip his biceps as he deliciously split you open, the stretch making your jaw fall slack.

Inch by inch, he sunk you down onto him until his pelvis was flush against yours. A moan coming forth from your throat.

“ohmy- you’re so big” you gasp, legs hooking over piers’ hips. Sticking slow, meaningful kisses to your neck, piers breathed out a laugh in response

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you with this big cock?”

The words rasped in your ear caused a low moan, nodding as your nails dug into his skin.

"please"

You thought you were in heaven when he started to move, snapping his hips in a sharp thrust. It was insane how quickly he started to hit your sweet spot. He hit that spot until once more you were crying out beneath him, a creamy ring of come and arousal coating the thick shaft of his cock.

Piers moaned with you every time you clenched around him, clenching him so hard as if you were scared he’d let go. The both of you were chasing a blissful high that was so hard to resist, giving up to instinct and falling deeper into the burning hot pits of pleasure

You surged forward, bringing his head down to pull him into a searing, cockdrunk kiss. Tongues immediately tangled through the shared passion.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck” piers moaned “you’re so pretty, so fuckin’ stunning. Fuck, i love you”

You locked eyes, piers practically had hearts in his eyes. Looking at you like an aphrodite molded you with her bare hands, looking as if you hung the moon and stars.

Your heart swelled, butterflies pooling in your stomach as you fell into this love drunk atmosphere. Clenching around him from his intense display of love

“Piers ! I love you too !” you eagerly reciprocate his feelings, pulling him closer so your bodies were even more flush against each other. Your bodies were so intimately tangled together, palms sliding together and intertwining fingers has he thrusted into you like it was be the last time he would ever do so

The both of you are moaning like no tomorrow, his pelvis smushed against your poor, overworked clit. Another orgasm is tumbling into you, you could tell piers was getting close too.

Just as you were so, so, so close; piers meanly slowed down until his thrusts were slow and deep

“N-no please ! please i wanna come” you cried out, tears of pleasure pooling in the corners of your eyes. A smile on his face as he nudged his nose against yours, nuzzling you like a little puppy.

“Wanna make it last, feel so good wrapped around me” he groaned, letting his head drop to the crook of your neck. His lips on the skin yet again, warm and tingly

“Don’t know why i didn’t do this sooner, prefer this compared to when your throwing insults at my face” he huffed a fond laugh as you pouted and mumble a

“Shut up..”

Your face felt hot, even as you wiggled your hips to get him to speed up. Your orgasm was just right there yet it was also just out of reach, the pace set being no good. Piers, ever being intune took notice, speeding up just to watch the reaction of your eyes widening and a moan being wrenched from you.

“That feel nice? Oh, i bet it does”

he rasped in your ear, your fingers squeezing around his own as you were finally pushed towards the pleasant, overwhelming feeling of bliss. Your eyes rolled back as you fell down the rabbit hole of pleasure. Coating his cock and your thighs in your sweet, sweet essence.

“Yeah, that's it, so tight around me” he groaned, he wasn’t far behind you. Giving a few more sloppy, harsher thrusts before he moaned against your skin, cock twitching inside of you as he filled you up impossibly full with his white hot ropes of come

The two of you stayed in that position for a while, chests heaving against each other as you basked in the fuzzy afterglow of sex. Sweet kisses and tender touches were shared, the display of love having your hearts intertwined, beating in time with together

Soon, he pulled out of you with a soft ‘pop’ watching his spend pooling out. You felt empty, but it was more pleasant now that you’d come, twice. Before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms. You were both sweaty but you didn’t mind, the closeness was perfect. His body was practically a furnace, his hands petting down your frazzled hair

You didn’t know piers was so sweet and attentive. Then again, how could you when all you did was bare your teeth at him?

Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a hand settled on his cheek

“I'm tired of fighting with you, piers. I’m sorry, sorry for being such an asshole” you sighed, you really wanted to continue whatever this was. It was too good to just be a one time thing.

“Me too, i’d rather love you” he responds, pressing a peck to the tip of your nose

You giggled, nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

“Definitely, I want to explore whatever this is. With you”

commission me

#Spotify #harpy speaks #resident evil #resident evil 6 piers nivans #re6 piers #resident evil piers #piers nivans x reader #piers nivans smut #piers nivans #residentevil #residential #resident evil 6 #resident evil death island #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil imagines #resident evil remake #resident evil smut

25 notes · View notes

rozodejanerowrites · 4 days ago

Text

Ninety Seconds to Midnight

CWs: Canon typical violence, Medical procedures, Substance abuse, Referenced Suicide

Contains: John-Price POV, Character study, Unresolved romantic tension, Slow burn

Archive of Our Own | Current WIP (8 chapters finished) - ~60-80,000 words

Chapter 5

0241 hours, Al-Hafir, Kharzari. 2023

When they enter the back room, Benoit is standing over Ghost, arms crossed. He looks up as they enter. His face is drawn into an expression of hard intent, and John is immediately alert.

“He’s stable,” Benoit says, before turning to fix John with a sharp look. “He was… asking for you.” He looks at Kelli. “I sent Darya home. He won’t let me give him oxygen.”

He gestures to his chin. The mask.

John strides over and looks down at Ghost. His eyes are half open, and he is pale.

“Took your bloody time, old man. Thought I’d have to start haunting the clinic.”

John purses his lips, but he feels relief.

“If you wanted attention, you could’ve just asked. Bastard.”

Ghost lets out a half-chuckle, but winces at the movement.

“I was about to start seeing Soap. And he’d be pissed you let me go out like that.”

John knows Ghost is joking. That humor is just how he deals with things. But it cuts all the same. It reminds him of the stakes. Kelli has always been so dammed calm that it lulls him into the lie that everything will be okay. The surreal shock of seeing her again is replaced by biting clarity; he has a mission to complete.

He places a hand gently on Ghost’s arm. They make eye contact. Behind the mask, Ghost’s eyes grimace.

“Gaz is taking care of comms,” John says. “We’ll get MEDVAC sorted ASAP, mate.”

Ghost nods very slowly.

“Don’t rush on my account.”

“You’re going to need surgery.” Kelli says, slipping on a fresh pair of gloves, “beyond my pay grade and resources-but we’ll keep you stable here in the meantime.”

“Sounds fun,” Ghost says, examining Kelli from beneath heavy lids. “We can swap stories about the Captain.”

“As much as I’d enjoy that-” Kelli glances up at him with an unreadable expression, “you’re not going to do any talking. You need an O₂ feed to take some pressure off your lungs. The mask has to come off.”

Ghost turns his head to look at her.

“No.”

Kelli cocks her head to the side. “You enjoy being alive?”

Ghost considers this for a moment, as if he is seriously contemplating his identity versus his life. His eyes flicker to John’s.

“Captain can do it.”

Kelli and Benoit both turn to look at him. Kelli looks expectant, Benoit just looks annoyed.

John doesn’t move immediately.

There’s a quiet beat. Not hesitation - not exactly. Just the weight of it.

The mask had always been there. In every op, every briefing. It was Ghost, the symbol, the shield, the myth wrapped in mesh and plastic. Stripping it off felt like stripping him bare.

Kelli examines his reaction. She appears to appreciate the gravity of the situation because, ever professional, she shoots a look at Benoit and says, “we won’t look. But he needs it.”

John nods. He leans down by Ghost’s side, eyes scanning the familiar contours - peeling white paint, the hard plastic skull, tight straps looping behind his ears.

“You sure about this?”

“Don’t be soft. Just do it.” He says, “I ain’t ready to see Johnny just yet.”

John glances up. Benoit is standing by the door now, staring intently into the front room, arms folded. Kelli is still beside him but facing away. She glances at him and nods.

The damn thing is tight, slightly frayed from the makeshift stitching. John finds the edge of the balaclava underneath his chin and pulls slowly. The mask shifts, lifts. Ghost’s face, smeared with black paint and sweat, is pale. His lips are blue.

John settles the mask across Ghost's forehead, just above his eyes. In his peripheral he sees Kelli hold out the O₂ mask - soft silicone, connected to the portable tank line and controller.

“It’s a simple face seal. Set it over the bridge of his nose, cover his mouth, snug the elastic around the back of his head. Not too tight - just enough for a seal.”

“Let him breathe into it first, then I’ll start the flow.”

The mask is like the ones they use for HALO, but John has never fitted one to someone else before. He places it gently over Ghost’s face, adjusting until it fits.

Ghost blinks slowly but he doesn’t move.

Kelli moves beside him. There is a hiss. Oxygen begins to flow and John sees the mask inflate and deflate with each breath.

He watches Ghost’s chest rise, steadier now. The tension in his shoulders eases, just a notch. John thought the O₂ mask wouldn't do much to hide his face, but the smeared paint and gaunt complexion reflect a man that looks nothing like the soldier John knows.

“Now for the second revelation of the day,” Kelli says, carefully adjusting the oxygen feed. “-I’m going to give you something to help you rest Ghost. You’re stable for now, but you need to stay that way.”

John shoots her a sharp glance. He doesn't like the idea of Ghost being put under. The way he’s gone pale and weak, John thinks he might never wake up.

Ghost may well be thinking the same thing. His eyelids flutter beneath the mask. His eyes fix on Kelli’s - alert, mistrustful, afraid.

“You’ll wake up,” she assures him. “But if you keep moving, you’ll undo everything I just did. This is safer.”

She nods at Benoit. “Can you get the midazolam?”

John’s jaw clenches as he realizes she’s not asking. To her, it is a given. Logically, he knows she is the expert; she knows what she is doing. Ultimately, he still trusts her instinct, even after everything. He would have turned the car around as soon as Rains mentioned her name if he didn’t.

But he can’t help the irritation. He can’t help his paranoia, cultivated in the years since they fell out. Tended to by years of missions gone sideways and betrayal.

He trusts Kelli’s hands. He’s not sure about her judgment.

Kelli must see it on his face, because she sighs. “Half-dose first,” she says. “I know what I’m doing.”

He nods.

Kelli holds his gaze for a moment before checking Ghost’s IV. She takes the vial from Benoit and draws it into a syringe, tapping the side with practiced fingers.

“Monitor for hypotension,” she tells Benoit. Then to herself, so quiet he almost doesn’t catch it: “God, don’t bottom out on me.”

She injects the syringe into Ghost’s IV port, pushing the plunger slowly. Ghost flinches. His fingers twitch.

“Deep breath, big boy. Good. That’s it.”

John watches Ghost like a hawk. He’s not sure what he would even look for, but he would know if something was wrong.

Seconds pass.

Ghost’s chest rises and falls, more even now. The tension in his shoulders slackens. Eyes flutter closed.

She exhales - not relief, John thinks, not yet.

There is a pause.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

The words are low and controlled. Benoit doesn't look at Kelli, just adjusts the clamp on the IV line.

John clenches his jaw.

His mind immediately jumps to foul play. His eyes flick between Benoit and Kelli before settling on Ghost, searching for signs. His thoughts race between anger and contingency; anger flares in his chest.

And then Benoit continues: “You’re gambling a civilian clinic on a dying soldier, Kelli.”

It’s not foul play. The doctor is just upset.

John grits his teeth.

Kelli doesn't respond right away. John watches the muscle flex in her jaw.

“I didn’t have a choice, Benoit.”

For a few seconds, the room is quiet. Then Benoît straightens, wipes his gloves off with deliberate slowness, and speaks.

“You had a choice,” he says. “You just didn’t like it.”

Kelli turns slowly. “I stabilized him, that’s all.”

Benoit turns his gaze to John.

“You’ve exposed everyone in this village in the process.”

That gets John’s attention. His jaw tightens. He steps forward, his hand ghosting over his rifle involuntarily.

“She kept him breathing. That’s what matters.” A pause. “If that’s a problem for you - take it up with me.”

Benoit straightens, arms crossed.

“And who are you exactly?” he says, glancing across John’s fatigues. Laswell had wanted the mission dark, and so John wears no flag. John would be impressed by the Frenchman’s gall in questioning him so blatantly, but he supposes anyone crazy enough to work the field with Kelli has the balls to match. “Another mercenary here to pillage a broken country?” He spits. “Men like you are a stain on this earth.”

John takes another step forward.

“You think you know what this is?” His voice drops to something colder. “You have no idea.”

Silence.

Benoît opens his mouth, but John cuts him off.

“You don’t want us here? Fine. Let her work. Then I’m gone. With him.”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just lets the quiet stretch.

Kelli steps up beside them both, her hands raised.

“Alright,” she says calmly. “Let’s just all take a breath.”

Benoit takes a step back from John. His eyes are hard, furious, but with an undercurrent of fear. Good.

His eyes flick to Kelli.

“You’re gambling everyone here on a soldier,” he says tightly. “If Zaman-”

“It won’t come to that,” Kelli says, but John can hear the slight waver in her voice.

Benoit sucks his teeth; his head twitches. He looks at Kelli like he wants to slap some sense into her.

“Operations will have your head if this goes south,” he says, a warning. “Merde, I’ll report you myself. Testify if I have to.”

Kelli crosses her arms. She glances at John, holding his gaze for a long moment.

“I accept that,” she says, looking back at Benoit, and there is a trust in her words. As if she trusts him. It tugs against the tension that John has been feeling in his chest, even since he stepped foot in the clinic.

Even after all this time, she has his back.

The feeling is marred by a tinge of guilt. He’s not sure if she fully appreciates the man he has become.

Would she still have his back if she knew?

Benoit sighs. He raises his hands.

“Your head, Kelli,” he says. “Your conscience.” He glances at John. “I hope he’s worth it. I’m out. I’m done.”

John watches him as he leaves.

Kelli runs a weary hand over her face.

“Christ.”

Already, John considers contingency. Benoit could talk. He should march out that door, grab Benoit, drag him back inside. But he knows that would escalate things further. The best hope they have is to get comms back quickly and pray that Zaman’s goons don’t track them down.

Kelli crosses her arms.

“He’ll keep his mouth shut,” she says, reading his mind. “All he cares about are the people here. Can you blame him, John?” She gestures to Ghost. “You and your boys turn up covered in blood, wearing fucking skull masks, no flags - what do you expect?”

John expects not to be questioned, but he knows that is too much to ask. Civilians are always liabilities. Even Kelli - especially Kelli - is an unknown quantity now.

“I expected a clean mission,” he says darkly.

Kelli huffs out a laugh.

“Doesn’t exist,” she says.

John feels the anger simmering in his chest. This is not Herrick, he’s not a kid leading patrols in Afghanistan anymore. He’s grown since then. Kelli might not have seen him in action recently, but he's only gotten better with age. The mission should be clean, because he is in control.

If it isn’t, then it’s on him.

If Ghost dies, it’s on him.

He grunts.

“Speak for yourself.”

Kelli examines him. Whatever she sees seems to interest her, because she looks thoughtful for a moment.

“Why are you here?”

“Extraction. Ghost got hit.”

Kelli rolls her eyes.

“Why this clinic?”

John shrugs.

“Was closest. Rains said your name. Figured you’d keep him breathing.”

“Quite the gamble,” she muses. “I could have slammed the door in your face.”

He looks up at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

“You’d patch up the devil if he came in bleeding.”

He’d gamble his life on that fact.

Kelli cocks her head to the side and smiles. It sends a jolt straight into his chest.

“I could turn you away,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Leave you outside to stew.”

He looks at her. It’s a little cute that she thinks she could make him leave the room. Then he notices the gun, holstered under her ratty pajama robe. He wonders how he didn’t notice it before. She must have untied the robe at some point. She’s making a point with the eyes. So is he. She’d have no chance, and she knows it.

“I’m not going anywhere without Ghost.”

He takes a seat in the corner and flips open his cigar case.

Kelli lets out a sigh.

“I swear to fucking God.”

She marches over to him and goes to swipe the lighter from his hand. He catches her wrist. Stands to face her.

He stares down at her.

This close, he can feel the heat from her body. Can smell her hair - something floral and peppery. Time folds. It’s 2010 again. Close air, breath shared. Nothing else.

Before she fucking left without so much as a goodbye.

He frowns.

“This is a doctor’s clinic,” she says, her voice even, but his eyes catch on the flush creeping up her neck. She’s not straining against his grip, but not giving up either. “You can watch your boy or you can take it outside. Choose, John.”

He releases her after a moment, but does not move away. She holds the lighter up. A question in her eyes. A choice. He takes it, his fingers brushing hers as he sits back down.

“I’ll stay.”

He slips the case back into his vest and busies himself with checking the comms again. Still nothing.

Kelli nods and starts quietly cleaning up. She checks Ghost’s vitals, noting down the numbers on a clipboard.

John watches her. She moves with the same confidence that she always has. Every movement purposeful. She’s older, but it has only enhanced her features. Same eyes, same jaw, same athletic build. His eyes flicker toward her arse.

Get a fucking grip.

“Did you hear Emma and Tom are having another kid?”

John blinks at her. It takes him a moment to parse who she is talking about. He was never that close to Ronan and he mostly thinks of Tom by his last name.

He grunts.

“A daughter,” he says. “Yeah, Black mentioned it.”

John doesn’t see his old SAS mates that much these days, but Black had pinned him down the last time he’d been in Birmingham. He thinks back to that night at the pub. Black buying him a round of beers with the daft grin of someone who was outnumbered and thrilled about it.

Kelli’s question reminds him of Ronan and Black’s wedding. That fucking weekend in Zanzibar. It hits him harder because he knows he still has to face Black again after what happened to Soap. He shakes his head. She’s brought it up deliberately, she must have.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

He would rather silence.

He wants to remain focused on the mission. But he knows Kelli. She’s not going to have changed that much. If he lets her control the conversation, she will ask him increasingly uncomfortable questions.

He knows better than to let her set the tempo.

Kelli tugs on another pair of gloves. She peers at him curiously, as if surprised at his question.

“Kahzari?”

He nods.

She pulls out her stethoscope and listens to Ghost’s chest again. He watches her hands. Every motion. Just in case.

“Well, I joined MSF after a few years in the trauma center at St Mary’s.” She glances at him. “You knew that part, right?”

“You mentioned you were thinking of applying.”

Kelli nods.

“Yeah. I mean, I moved around a lot. Sudan for a bit, Urzikstan for a long time. I guess I just ended up out here. It’s good work.” She scribbles down another note. She pauses for a moment, her hand hovering above the clipboard.

She looks over at him. There is something she wants to say. No, something she’s not sure if she wants to say.

“I missed it,” she says finally.

John gets the impression this is not the only reason. He wants to ask: is it because you realized the civvie fiancé was holding you back? John thinks about that smug prick’s face. The way he acted like he was above them all because he had a practice in the suburbs and played squash every Wednesday. Didn’t get the itch. Didn’t want to. Civvies never do. Never realizing that people like them were the ones that kept the world from falling apart.

Kelli is like him.

She’d tried to play house, pretend she could be normal, and something must’ve gone sideways. That thought stirs a dark little satisfaction he doesn’t examine too closely. He knows it’s petty. He’s not glad she had to suffer - if that’s even what happened. Maybe David dumped her. Maybe she walked. Maybe hes still up in Chelsea, playing squash every Wednesday, waiting for her to return. Either way, the ring was gone. And seeing her back in the shit, doing what she was built for? That hits somewhere deep in his chest.

Regardless of their history, he has always wanted her to be happy.

He doesn't voice any of this.

He's not even sure if Kelli would be honest with him about it. She’s never admitted to the real reason that she left the military, though he knows it must have been his fault.

It's only been 30 minutes since their reunion, after all.

“You missed it,” he repeats, a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth.

Kelli nods, then shakes her head.

“Yeah,” she says. “The rush. That’s crazy, right?”

John shrugs.

“Yeah. But we’re all a little crazy, aren’t we?”

Kelli looks at him thoughtfully.

“You don’t get tired of it?”

He considers the question for a moment.

“I can’t afford to,” he says, before conceding, “but no. It's the purpose, innit.”

Kelli nods.

“Yes!” she says, her eyes bright with that same madness from 15 years ago. “Yes.”

She sighs.

“Purpose,” she says, strangely wistful.

She finishes her vitals check. She is calm. Competent. Still, he watches her like she might vanish again.

After a moment, she peels off the gloves and sits down next to him.

“Tell me about Soap,” she says.

John stills. He grits his teeth. She’s done it again. Gained control of the conversation without him even realizing it.

“Not tonight.”

Kelli leans forward onto her elbows, examining her hands.

They sit in silence for a long moment. The faint beeping of the O2 monitor softly punctuates the heavy air between them.

“That’s okay,” Kelli says. “It took me a year before I could talk about Riggs after he died.”

She reaches out her hand, as if testing his reaction. When he doesn't stop her, slowly, she places her hand over his knee. It burns a hole through his trousers.

John grunts. He stares at the floor.

He wants to tell her that Soap’s death was nothing like Riggs’. Riggs was a cowboy who got himself killed. Soap died because John failed - a leader who could not protect his own. A leader who made the wrong choice. Who should have known when to move the line - for the greater good.

Kelli lets out a breath.

“I blamed myself too, John.”

He looks up at her. He wonders what she means. She had been the attending medic on that mission, but there wasn’t anything she could have done to save him.

Kelli is staring intently at the floor. Her face is thoughtful, but there is no real pain there, simply acceptance.

Her eyes flick to his, and the look in her eyes hits him for a six. He doesn’t know the word for that emotion - it is something unfamiliar to him. But if he had to guess, it feels like grace.

For a moment, he can’t breathe.

The silence breaks.

The back door swings open and Darya rushes in, breathless and flushed.

“Kelli,” she says quickly. Her eyes flit between them, but if she realizes that she interrupted something, she doesn't show it.

John stands quickly, hand readying on his rifle.

“I’m sorry, but it’s my uncle,” she says. Her eyes flit between him and Kelli. “He says he saw someone on the roof. He’s…worried.”

“Who did he see?”

John steps forward.

Darya steps back several paces. She fidgets with the edges of her frayed shayla. Her wide brown eyes are set on him. Fearful.

John imagines he might cut an imposing figure for a young girl, but he doesn't really care.

Suddenly, Darya starts rambling out a long string of words to Kelli in a dialect he doesn't recognize. She gestures at John as she does it, glancing between him and Ghost.

John tightens his grip on his rifle.

The girl is not a threat, not directly. But he's been burned by scouts before. Not being able to understand what she is saying puts him right on the edge of his patience.

Kelli nods. She holds up a hand.

“Yes, yes,” she says, glancing at John. “It’s okay, Darya, I know them.”

She takes a few steps forward and places a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

She says something softly in the same dialect, and

Darya’s stiff posture relaxes slightly.

“What did your uncle see exactly?”

Darya’s eyes flit across to him.

“I think it was one of them,” she says. “The other soldiers.”

John steps forward.

“Did he see the soldier?” he says. “Did he say soldier?”

Darya shrinks backward.

“No,” she says, and despite the fear in her eyes, her voice is clear. “Just said someone with equipment-” her eyes flit between him and Kelli, “-I thought maybe to say someone was fixing the generator?”

“You told him that?”

Darya startles at his sharp tone.

“No, I didn’t say anything,” she says. “I said I’d ask you first.”

John studies her for a moment. She is scared but defiant. Probably the most dangerous combination.

He nods. Just once. They might be able to play this off.

Kelli shoots him a look from Darya’s shoulder. John knows he is being intimidating. He doesn’t care. This girl helped save Ghost’s life, but she is still a liability. Everyone in this fucking village is a liability. Someone is going to tip Zaman off, he is sure of that.

They need to get comms and get out.

“You did the right thing,” Kelli assures Darya, squeezing her shoulder. “Go tell him power went down and I’ve just got someone working the generator. We’ll handle it.”

Darya hesitates for a moment.

She looks up at him, and the look in her eyes has changed slightly. Anger.

“It’s just…my aunt is jumpy. Risha won’t settle. She asked if we were safe.”

A jolt of guilt cuts through John’s edged focus. He ignores it.

“If anyone’s watching this place, the fewer questions they ask, the better.”

Kelli gives him that look again.

“No one’s watching the place, John,” she snaps. “They’re scared. That’s different.”

Darya’s gaze flits between them again. She seems to sense the tension because she frowns. Her gaze comes to linger on him. He meets it, impassive.

Oddly, she reminds him of Kelli.

“I’ll tell them it’s the generator,” she says, but her tone carries a hint of uncertainty.

John follows her with his eyes as she hurries back outside.

When he turns, Kelli is looking at him.

“She’s trying to help.”

John raises an eyebrow.

“Trying doesn't stop bullets. She’s a liability.”

“Christ.” Kelli shakes her head and turns back to check on Ghost. He watches her for a moment. He can tell by the way her shoulders are hunched that there is a lot more she wants to say.

“Kids like Darya,” Kelli says finally, “they grow up surrounded by soldiers, war, famine, they’re just trying to survive.”

“I know what war does to a country, Kelli.”

“Do you?”

She turns around, her eyes narrowing on him.

“Maybe you do.” She examines him, considering. “But do you care?”

He huffs.

“Of course I fucking care.”

The answer is reflexive more than anything. He does care, at least he did.

He still does, he thinks.

It’s just harder to care when you sacrifice so much and people still treat you as if you’re the fucking bogeyman. Narrowed eyes. Suspicion in every corner. Paranoia follows him across the globe.

He knows this is the job. It’s always been the job. He doesn't want praise. He doesn't want a parade. Hell, he doesn’t fucking know what he wants.

All he knows is that he has a mission, and that’s what he has to care about.

He glances at Ghost.

His men are the only people he can trust. They trust him. That is why he is like this. He can’t afford not to be like this.

Kelli is still looking at him.

“I get it,” she says.

“You don’t.”

The muscle in her jaw tightens.

“I was in Afghanistan too, you know,” she says. “I know what numbness feels like.”

He laughs, bitterly.

“I’m well beyond Afghanistan,” he says.

Kelli cocks her head to the side. She examines him for a moment. Whatever she sees makes her smile grimly, but she doesn’t push. She just watches him, her eyes full of another emotion he can’t name - not pity, but not far off.

It bothers him more than her words.

He turns away.

Ghost lies still on the bench, chest rising slowly. His mask is askew slightly, blood drying at the edges.

He adjusts it without thinking.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #fanfic #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #archiveofourown #military drama #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #Drama #romantic drama #cod fanfic

14 notes · View notes

evita-shelby · 10 months ago

Text

Look both ways

or i skipped ahead while reading @littlepeakydevil 's stories with Lily, and got inspired this angst filled fic Eva realizing their polyam relationship with Lily won't ever work and divorcing Tommy.

cw: failed polyamory relationship, mentions of murder, divorce, misery, angst, mentions of infertility and codependency issues

takes place in 1920, since that is when Tommy and Eva eloped in the og fic.

⚠️Spam Likers will all be blocked from this blog, comment in the replies, dms or in a reblog or get the boot⚠️

When Tommy began to court her, the witch assumed Lily Callaghan would not pose much of a problem.

Not because Eva was completely fine with sharing a man and fucking a woman in the same relationship, but because the witch hadn’t really taken the time to see this would never work out in the long run.

Don’t get her wrong, she was sexually compatible with Lily, the witch just didn’t seem to form a romantic relationship with the woman and as time went on found her near constant presence in her life…irritating.

It's her fault, Eva has never been able to share, be it toys or her tiny luxuries during the revolution, and especially her romantic partners. Be it hating every second Antonia spent with Franscisco, or the attention Diosdado gave the women he eventually fucked behind her back and now the constant presence of the Red Demon in their lives.

Eva had believed herself above the women who allow themselves to be trampled on by their significant others, prided herself in having the self-respect and strength to burn every fucking bridge and move the fuck on without ever looking back.

And yet, she is here letting her jealousy take hold because she just had to foolishly agree to marry him when her petition for asylum here fell through. She could’ve gone to America or even the loser’s table in Paris with the fond memories of Tommy and his courtship of her, but instead she agreed to be the official wife of Thomas Shelby and the third point of the triangle.

There was also that she was pregnant, and kids always make it all the more complicated.

“My family wouldn’t approve.” Eva hides her joy at having Tommy all to herself as they go down to London for a visit well enough to fool him and even Lily who for once may explore a life where she is not giving Tommy’s shadow a run for its money. “You know how people can be.”

And because they will know he has a mistress that she does fuck (on occasion) and even lives with them(unfortunately), they will not look down her as much. They will offer to deal with the issue ---mistresses were not allowed for the men who marry into their family as a Riley daughter’s happiness goes above monetary gain, especially the last living witch in their family--- and she will halfheartedly refuse.

This would keep Lily alive, for now.

But it would not last forever, so Eva has decided this ménage à trois has to end.

It has too because Eva knows it won’t be long before she takes up the offer. They’ve been married a handful of months and already Eva knows if this goes on any longer, she will be backed into a corner and accept the offer to have the third person in her bed murdered.

It will break their hearts, his most of all, but it has to be done. It would be painful, but the pain would pass.

Tommy will be allowed to be a father to their son, they will eventually heal from it and neither will be driven miserable because Eva’s choices at the time were Tommy and automatically becoming a British Subject or being extradited to Mexico and executed for treason.

But Eva no longer needs his ring on her finger to stay alive, her family had now successfully made themselves part of American High Society and would always have the money and influence to keep themselves not just alive, but thriving to spite their enemies.

It will be difficult, especially when she does actually love Tommy and would love nothing more than to be happy with him and have the life she saw when they were alone in that bathtub in Brighton. Because of course, Tommy only gave a weekend without Lily and even three days after they eloped in June, the universe was telling her that perfect life with those four children did not include the Red Demon. It simply never had.

“You've been distant, you’re even sleeping in a different room these days.” Tommy is never one to bring up their issues, but he knows from the moment she let him inside her grandmother’s house, that they would be equals, that they were partners in life and business.

And because otherwise she’d avoid it, partly due to Lily’s near constant presence, he waits until there’s nowhere to run.

Like he did when he picked her up in his car knowing he would hate every word she said because Tommy Shelby is the biggest idiot when it comes to love, but knew even then that Eva would never lie to him nor lead him wrong.

“Didn’t feel comfortable anymore.” And just like then, he will hate everything she will say now. He had hoped Eva’s friendship with Lily would turn to love, but he knows the witch is slow to surrender her heart and that she looks both ways before she takes that leap of faith.

It took her nearly six months to make up her mind about him, it was cruel of him to make her accept a third person in a relationship Eva had assumed would be of two. They should’ve talked about this, about what would happen if she and Lily weren’t anything but friends and that maybe Eva’s jealousy would become a problem.

“When I agreed to marry you, I had assumed I could learn to accept her existence in our marriage or that she could be tempted to live a life of her own and not as your shadow.” She looks out the window refusing to look at him because she has no idea how to keep herself together and not jump out of the fucking car.

“So you didn’t look twice then.” He concludes knowing how careful she is with these sorts of things. She’d been hurt before, hurt badly enough that Eva needed every assurance that those she gave her heart would put a gun to their mouth before hurting her.

“No and now I am fucking miserable.” The tears come out along with the truth and he has no choice but to park the car on the side of the empty road. “I don’t love her, Tom. I tried but I can’t.”

Eva’s not looking at him and she knows the pain clear on his face as if she was, hears it in the heavy sigh he lets out as the dam bursts.

Because that’s the thing, he would have to choose between them because there isn’t a world where the three would be happy together. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“And then what? She’d get her own place and live apart while we share you? I already I feel as though I have to fight for every moment I can get alone with you, because as much as I tried to overcome it, I am a very selfish woman when it comes to love.”

It was a pipe dream to think that the arrangement would ever function as they naively thought it would.

What would happen when he’d have to prioritize the wife and children at home? Would she be able to live knowing the kids would never see her as a third parent and that society would only see her as Tommy’s whore and nothing more? That Eva would only allow her in her bed when she felt like it and that when Tommy becomes a politician, it won’t be Eva, but her uncle who orders her death?

As much as Eva hates to admit it, her family is not wrong to see permanent mistresses as a weakness begging to be exploited in those seeking to move up the ladder with a Riley bride on their arm. A temporary fling barely mattered, a lapse of judgement that usually spared the other, but Lily would eventually be killed by her uncle’s orders or even hers to protect their family's reputation and Tommy’s career.

This wasn’t Mexico before the Revolution, they are not as untouchable as they used to be, especially in foreign lands they have come to as exiles.

The witch refuses to have her life in her hands like that. She meant it when she said Leopoldo Carranza’s life was the last she would take in 1918.

“We’ll get a divorce; I will stay in London, and you will be as present as you wish to be in our son’s life. It will hurt us deeply, but we will get over it. The business won’t be affected since I own my own shares in your company and yours will be inherited by Charlie.” The witch dries her tears with her sleeve and refuses the handkerchief she had embroidered with the same monogram in his signet ring for him.

“And if I refuse to sign those papers?” He holds back his anger and pain at having it all end like this, but there is no other way.

“Eventually I would have forced you to choose between us knowing that you would have to choose me for Charlie’s sake as well as your career. You have me and all you ambition or you have her.” this time she does look at him. To see the words sink in as he realizes the game is over and it would be better to leave the game at a draw instead of playing to the death. “I can live without you, you can live without her, but is Lily able to live without you?”

Eva had the luxury of a family and life that taught her to know her own worth, to be independent and to know when to accept defeat like those before her had done. Lily, bless her soul, like a sunflower chasing the sun, she grew in the direction of Tommy.

She was too dependent on him; it would be like ending an addiction. The only way you could overcome was to have the strength to fight for yourself, sadly, Lily did not appear to be willing to break away from Tommy nor would Tommy allow it out of fear that she would leave. Just as Lizzie couldn’t move on from him and Grace went as far as to sentence Eva to death and him as well when she saw that he chose to believe Eva, a stranger, over her.

“I suppose this is the end then.” He tries not to, but the words catch on his throat.

The love was there, but it didn’t do a damn thing besides make them all miserable.

“Promise me one thing, Tom.” One last thing to make this heartbreak worthwhile.

“Anything, love.” He reaches out for her hand, and she doesn’t pull away.

Because if there is anything Eva hates more than sharing a person, it is having the universe make her a better person than she ever wanted to be. It would have been easier to just let her uncle kill her and pretend she had nothing to do with it, but Eva has never cared for the easy way out.

“That she looks both ways before she leaps.”

part 2: The Wreckage

#eva smith shelby #evacore #tommy shelby x oc #lily callaghan #tommy x lily #tommy x eva

44 notes · View notes

liltalle · 4 months ago

Text

Sorting The Stormlight Archive - Sorting Hat Chats

Here's a long overdue sorting of (some of) these amazing characters, now that I just finished Wind and Truth. A short explanation of this system can be found here. (Spoilers below the cut)

Kaladin Stormblessed - Badger Lion. Omg, our poor Windrunner. Kaladin has a textbook Badger Primary arc: He starts out burned, he's tried to protect everyone around him, he can't help himself, but he's failed so many times that it's destroyed him, and... he can hardly muster the will to live without being able to protect anyone. His moment at Honor Chasm is when he starts to unBurn, when he tries again for Bridge Four. He succeeds, then needs to learn what to do with himself when his people aren't in constant danger. He learns how to expand his circle of care in Book 3, to accept his limits in Book 4, and to take care of himself in Book 5. But he doesn't become a Snake at the end, he asserts that protection can still be important to him, and he can choose to sacrifice himself if he wants to, it's just his choice, for himself, and it's not all he is. Beautiful end to his Part 1 arc, even to a Snake like me. (The Windrunners as a whole are very Badger Pri-coded, down to threatening innocents being an easy way to distract them. Lirin is a Bird Pri who tries to pass on his dispassionate morality, but Kal can't stop seeing people as people. Hesina seems like a Snake secondary.) As for that Lion secondary, boi. Charging into the dueling pit, "I'll see what I can do". Abandoning the plan to go back for Dalinar's army. Going after Helaran. This tragic impulsive meow meow, he's so dangerous and powerful, but again a Badger sec like me has to shake her head.

Shallan Davar - Snake Badger. A central part of Shallan's childhood was her protecting her brothers via warmth and kindness (and thoughtful gifts). She goes after Jasnah for them, and hesitates about stealing after becoming attached to her teacher. Keeping her brothers remains a priority for her throughout the story, even when they're in the background. Shallan's deeply guilty about the people she's killed, but they're all people she knew (her mentors, as WaT draws the pattern). She's drawn to the Ghostbloods' promises of power and secrets. And when she's cut off from the Physical Realm at the end, her husband seems to be her most pressing concern (and she lets go of her conflict with the Ghostbloods very easily). Secondary-wise, she devises a cunning multi-step (if naive) plan in Book 1. When Jasnah rejects her, she doubles down again and again, gets all the books, and tries an emotionally open appeal that nonetheless is shaped to what Jasnah is looking for (textbook Badger Sec mirroring). She's deeply persistent with her art, and her drawing more hopeful depictions of who people might be also feels very Badger to me, mirroring people in a biased way that you want them to see themselves. When she wants to learn a new skill, she becomes a new persona that embodies that skill, and loses herself in Veil somewhat (a relatable problem). (She house-matches me, so predictably is in my favorites, along with Jasnah and Navani.)

Dalinar Kholin - Bird Lion. The motherfucking Blackthorn (thus said Elhokar). Dalinar does the Bird Pri thing where he sees updating his moral system as kinda making him a new person. He's obsessed with the Codes and honor and propriety. Oathbringer is all about his system shattering and being remade. Any guy who writes a tell-all manifesto about his new philosophy of how God is dead and also he burned his wife alive is probably a Bird Lion (He's got the Lion sec is common with Hamilton). And that Lion secondary, do I need to explain? It's a meme in-universe. He kicks Elhokar across the room, he smashes through everything, he's frequently thinking about how he's a soldier and he solves everything directly and he needs to be more subtle and thoughtful but is bad at it. He wants to act with what he thinks is right, and has a very hard time waiting for other people.

Adolin Kholin - Double Badger. This ball of sunshine. Adolin Kholin's superpower is remembering everyone's name and being so relatable and kind he inspires people. He's so respectful to his sword that she comes back to life. He can get Kaladin out of his depression. He's concerned with authority and what his father thinks of him, Badger Primary. When Maya calls him a slut, he says that he ought to consider his options thoroughly, which is a hilariously Badger Sec way of looking at dating. His distinction between a promise and an oath feels like a gentler, more humanized, less rigid variation on what his father taught him, Badger following Bird. He makes time for everyone, but when he feels he isn't good enough for others' expectations, when he can't protect people (Kholinar), his self-worth, which seems so good because he's so bright and shiny, collapses. Glad he has the Unoathed with him now.

Jasnah Kholin - Double Bird. Jasnah's rather self-consciously defined by her philosophy. She seeks the greatest good. She's a Veristitalian. She's a heretic. (She spends time with the apocalypse approaching to spar with ardents about religion.) She takes her inference that the world is in danger and builds her life around it even though no one believes her. Her midnight stroll with Shallan is all about taking abstract ethical philosophy viscerally seriously. And her methods are all about her tools: her research, finding the right books, analyzing every new experience with a scholarly perspective. If only she had the right evidence, she could surely convince everyone. She doesn't declare like a Lion Sec, or community-build like a Badger, or dance like a Snake. She has connections with assassins in her back pocket just in case. She's got that Double Bird detachment/self-definition. Taravangian's takedown of her in Book 5 broke her system, which leaves her devastated, and I'm so interested to see how she rebuilds. I don't think there's another Primary underneath, I think she just needs to rethink her priorities, but something Burnt under a Bird model is possible.

Szeth-son-Neturo - Double Bird/Bird Badger. Szeth's obsessive question growing up is "how do I know what's right?" He wants rules, clarity, something infallible. And he has maybe the deepest conviction and durability of any Bird Primary I've seen, it's breathtaking. His "I'm Truthless" system endures through hell, he does not break for any of his horrific trauma, he only breaks when Kaladin presents information that contradicts what he believes. His arc in Book 5 is updating his system more kind to himself, and in swearing the Fifth Ideal he recognizes himself as the author of his own system. His secondary is a thorough mastery of his tools, which could point to either of the Built Secondaries. He does not have the Courtier Badger skillset, but I could see his neurodivergent social difficulties manifesting as a Bird model over unstoppable Badger toiling. He mentions casually his mastery of a barehanded martial art, which feels like a Bird tool, but the way he makes himself into a weapon, the self-abnegation... His survival despite all he's been through fits with the ability of both of these sortings to stand alone.

And those are the characters I'm confident about off the top of my head. Obviously, there are so many more. I'm particularly curious about Navani (my gorgeous engineer), Syl, Eshonai, Raboniel... Maybe I'll reblog with more when I've thought more, or one of you is welcome to add your own or contest what I've got.

#shc #sortinghatchats #stormlight archive #cosmere #brandon sanderson #wat spoilers #wind and truth #stormlight spoilers #tw sui implied #kaladin stormblessed #shallan davar #dalinar kholin #adolin kholin #jasnah kholin #szeth son neturo #szeth son son vallano #character analysis #liltalle sorts

17 notes · View notes