#nothing is stopping me like i said i am my own worst enemy

[ayyy-pee]

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Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn��t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[kasagia]

Lovers to strangers

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Lantsov princess! reader Summary: The worst thing that can happen is to go from a passionate, ardent feeling to cold indifference. Turning the people you held dearest into strangers. But could YOUR Aleksander ever be a stranger to you again? You have to choose what is more important to you. Ravka and the crown that is rightfully yours, or the man who trampled on your naive, young heart. The choice should be simple... right? Word Count: 8.9k Inspired by: Chance Peña - Lovers to strangers Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

The evenings at the Little Palace were your favourites.

Especially since, from the window of Aleksander's chambers, you had no view of the Grand Palace—your golden cage.

Princess of Ravka. A prisoner in her own country. Well... at least there was one place in the capital where you didn't feel like you were locked in.

Or rather, a bed...

"I can hear your toughts…" the man cuddling up to you mumbles into your collarbone. You can't help but giggle at the feeling of his soft lips brushing against your skin. The feeling of his rough beard gives you pleasant shivers.

"I thought Grisha couldn't read in minds… unless you have another special ability of which I don't know, my general." you say teasingly, stroking his hair.

You can't help but touch this dangerous man. Something has drawn you to him since the first day you came back to Os Alta after Nikolai's disappearance. And as you managed to get a taste of this incredible man, you wanted more and more.

"I have many things that you don't know yet, moya tsarevna. I am a danger. I will break your heart if you trust me so blindly."

"Saints, I love when you speak old Ravkan." you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Besides, you can't break something that doesn't exist."

It doesn't take long for him to kiss you back. His hand is immediately on your check as he pushes you back on the pillows. He hoovers above you, his lips (far from being gently) moving against yours as his tongue is slipping into your mouth like a snake. He conquers you in every sense of the word.

"Aleksander..." you moan, brushing against him.

"Your grace." he says teasingly, and then completely moves away from you. You look at him furious and offended as the frustration grows inside you. "My little brat. She always has to have what she wants, right?"

"You should know better than to challenge me. I am the heir to the throne, your princess."

"If I remember correctly, you have two older brothers." he points out, placing soft kisses on your collarbone. His beard tickles gently, only further amplifying the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.

"If I remember correctly, I have a general of the Second Army as my secret lover. The Darkling. With your shadows by my side and our combined intelligence and manipulation skills? We are unstoppable."

"Who said I wouldn't betray you? That I wouldn't make myself tsar and take you as my concubine or mistress?" he asks darkly, smiling slyly at you. His pearly teeth gleam menacingly, only making you laugh.

"You won't. You love me too much… Besides…" you lean closer to him and put the dagger to his throat. He laughs a little as he notices that it is the weapon that he had hidden under his pillow. "I'm much more than just a pretty face and royal blood. If you betray me, nothing will stop me from making you my enemy. It works both ways, Aleksander. If you hurt me, I will hurt you back. I won't sit and cry over my fate. I am creating my legacy and future. Not any men."

"I see." he grabs you by your hips and pushes on the headboard of the bed. You moan as he takes the dagger from you and puts it on your throat. "But don't you think this is better? You under me, trembling with desire." he whispers seductively into your ear. And you almost surrender to his touch and the seductive tone of his voice. Almost...

"You don't want an obedient toy. You want an equal. Only I can be one." you say confidently as you two stare into each other's eyes. You both breathe fast and heavily. You reach your hand towards his and put it on the tip of the dagger. "You wouldn't drag me to your bed if you didn't see it. You despise my family, just as I do, and Ravkans, but here you are: in bed with the princess of Ravka. And we both know that is not all about power, connections, or being part of a greater plan, is it?"

He looks at you deeply, watching your every little reaction as he leans towards you. His shadows play around; a few of them are climbing onto the bed and gently brushing against you two. You tremble with pleasure as you feel them on your hot skin. You moan, pressing yourself against him. You feel the coldness of the metal against your skin, and a little drop of blood slowly falls down on your chest.

He throws the dagger away and uses his tongue to lick the trace of blood on your skin. He sucks up the little wound he made a few seconds ago. You see the shadows getting around you as he loses himself in you.

"You're mine, Aleksander." you whisper into his ear. "And we are all we need anyway. Only I am able to see and embrace the darkness within you." you feel his moan at your words before you hear it. You tremble at his reaction.

"You will regret that, Y/N." he warns, or rather anticipates. You see the sincerity and concern in his eyes as they talk about how you will inevitably abandon him.

"Maybe. But not now." you gasp and pull him to you as you two kiss greedily. His hand goes to your waist, pressing you closer to him. You shiver as you feel the cold metal of his claw ring against your skin. "Sasha..."

"Say it again." he demands. His dark eyes glow against the shadows swirling around you. You lift your hand to caress his cheek softly and tenderly. Your fingertips brush against his chin as you slowly slide your hand down to his neck to trace the hickeys you've already given him.

"Sasha..." you moan as his lips brush against your jaw to tease your neck with their softness and warmth.

"Again." another silent command as the shadows begin to surround you more and more.

"Sasha... moi souveryni... moi ottenok (my shadow)." he silences you with a hard, demanding kiss, tangling his large hand in the back of your head and positioning you to suit his needs as he deepens the kiss, searching for your tongue.

Yes... the darkness of his chambers was definitely your favourite place on earth.

"Are you mad?” you huff, glaring at your elder brother.

You sit in your deceased father's chambers, discussing Ravka's fate in whispers among the nobility. Your eldest brother, Vasily, is chatting with some of the nobles, hoping that he will gain their sympathy as he is going to take the throne after your father. Little did he know that you two had other plans for Ravka.

"What? Do you have a better idea? Mother is going crazy, Vasily wants to play king, and the Grishas are about to start a civil war on us. There's no other way."

"I didn't become a widow just to fawn over some man again. Especially not over him. Besides, isn't he having eyes only on that Sun Summoner of yours?" you ask, nodding towards Alina, who is forced (as Vasily's fiancée) to stand by his side and listen to all the nonsense the nobles say.

"I'm not telling you to marry him... well, at least that's not what plan A is. Just approach him. Find out what he wants and whether he's willing to make arrangements with us. After all, you used to talk often. Especially at night in his chambers."

"Nikolai Lantsov, our father is lying dead in a coffin and you dare to remind me who I visited at night and who I didn't?"

"Please, as if you ever cared about that disgusting pig, who unfortunately for us was our father. Besides, you'd be curious too if I suddenly broke up with the love of my life and let our father sell me into marriage with Shu. Which was very surprising for all of us. You loved Kirigan. I know you did. And he felt the same." you roll your eyes at him, wondering where the bastard got this information since he wasn't in the palace at that time.

"And now I hate him. No. That's too much to say. I don't know him. I don't care about him. He's a stranger for whom I feel absolutely nothing. A traitor to the nation and the crown." you say, not hiding the anger in your voice.

"Don't say that as if we weren't called like that by our countrymen and subjects. But since you don't feel anything towards him, then I guess you won't be offended if I tell you that I solemnly invited him to negotiations regarding a possible settlement and peace?"

"What?! What did you… He agreed?" you ask him, shocked and annoyed that, after dropping such a bomb on you, he doesn't even dare look you in the eyes.

"Yes. As a sign of good will, we exchanged prisoners. I gave him back the Grishas he wanted, except for Genya, of course; it took the three of us a very long time to clear her name and guilt about killing our father. It would be too suspicious if we let her go so... easily." he nodded towards Alina, who was giving you a desperate look and asking for help. She was on the other side of the room with Vasily, who desperately tried to... get closer to her. "Sorry, I have to play hero. I just wanted to let you know that he agreed. He's coming tomorrow, right after the funeral." he says, and he approaches Alina to save her from the company of your brother and the nobility... and in the process, he saves himself from your wrath.

You shift your gaze from him to your hands and nervously start picking at your nails. You haven't seen HIM since you left Ravka to marry the Prince of Shu Han. When he treated you so vilely, putting the Sun Summoner on his pedestal, he forgot about you.

And you promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn't let anyone neglect, humiliate, or disregard you. Especially to someone who isn't worth it. Who chose to ignore you when he meant the world to you.

That's why you decided to do the same as him and slightly modify your plans. Unfortunately, your husband turned out to be an idiot who did not meet your expectations and would only interfere with your grand plan. It's fortunate that he died.

"My princess." Genya's voice breaks you out of your thoughts. You shift your gaze to the woman in the red kefta. "Can I ask you for a minute of your time?"

"Of course." you say, leaving the room with the redhead. "Any news from David?" you ask as the two of you walk down the hall.

The nobles who pass you throw unfavourable glances at Grisha next to you, but you don't pay them any attention, or if you do, you give them a look that makes them look away from you.

"It's as if… he wrote that they were leaving their hideout and heading towards the palace." she speaks so quietly that only you can hear her.

Many things have changed since the Darkling's small, and fortunately unsuccessful, show of strength. The Grisha divided; most of them followed their general, wanting to finally gain some rights for themselves, and some of them stayed on the side of Alina and the crown.

So you had to return to the country quite quickly and strengthen the contacts with your spies. Your late husband's family was quite reluctant to let you go. Especially his younger brother, who was the only heir to the crown after his death... you could say that you and Niklaus started getting along much better after your husband's death.

Genya was a new addition. You had a pretty close relationship even before hell broke out in Ravka. You trusted her... within reason. And you were grateful to fate that she didn't join Alina. You didn't like the Sun Summoner... and it's very possible that private grudges played a large part in your dislike of her.

"How many of them?" you ask as you enter your office. The guards give you a curt bow and close the door behind you.

"Not enough for him to think about any plans of attack. But you can never be sure. I heard he acquired a new skill. He creates monsters from shadows. The nichevo'ya or something like that."

"He must be stupid to attack the palace now. We'll deal with his new skills later. For now, we need to locate Baghra. Where is she being held? Is she being held at all, and if not, where is she hiding? This old hag is the key to all of this. We can't do anything without her; we know as much as five-year-olds about the fold, amplifiers, and merzost." you say, flipping through the pages on your desk.

"Alina and Mal are working on locating another amplifier. They're scheduled to leave soon."

"Impossible. They're not going anywhere. I will not risk the lives of our only Sun Summoner and Compass to Morozova's amplifiers. The Darkling is heading this way; his men and spies may be anywhere, and recently, the number of Fjerdan provocations on our border has tripled."

"They won't stay locked up here."

"I am aware of this. But they won't move from here in the next two weeks. Our priority is peace with either the Darkling or the Fjerdan. We cannot wage two wars at once—civil and with another country. It's best if there's none, but I guess it is not possible. We have shed too much blood in the fold itself; we need to end this centuries-old conflict and not escalate it, because Ravka won't take any longer what is happening here."

"About that… I doubt that General… Darkling will be willing to compromise." you sigh, knowing full well that she could probably be right.

"Then we'll have to remove him from the picture." you say slowly, wondering if you were really ready for this.

"You mean..."

"I do not know yet." you interrupt her, not quite sure what you're going to do. And even if you knew, you had no intention of revealing such plans to anyone. "It depends on what the situation requires of us. Alina is too young to be a general. She may be a symbol of hope and a new, better future, but she is not fit to lead an entire army. And the Darkling… is unpredictable and out of any control."

"You miss him, don't you?" her question slightly catches you off guard.

You tried your hardest not to think... about him. Or what could have been if things between you went differently. You simply couldn't afford it. You had to be strong for Ravka, your subjects, and your brothers. And thinking about Aleksander certainly wouldn't make your situation any better.

"I… I think I miss the idea of him that I created in my mind. I miss the man I thought I knew. But in the end, he turned out to be like… just like anyone else."

"Like all powerful men." she sums up your statement, staring at the window behind you.

"Exactly." you nod, thinking about what she must have gone through under your father. That's why, whoever would take the throne, you promised yourself that you would make sure that there would be a whole new era for Ravka. "Genya." you call after her before she leaves your office.

"Yes, my princess?"

"Make sure you make time for David. After this hell… you two deserve the best." you give her a small smile before sending her away. You sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead. There were so many things to plan and very little time.

But you can't help but think about Aleksander. There were rumours that the fold had destroyed it. That he had become crazy, ruthless, and devoid of any empathy or conscience.

Your hands involuntarily move to the cabinet and open it. You take the bracelet he gave you into your hands. Now you know that it had a special, rare piece of metal in it that allowed Durast to locate you from miles away—an ability Darkling must have used many times in the past. You made sure it was deleted, but... sentiment didn't let you throw it away. You don't know why. Or at least you don't want to admit to yourself this little weakness from the past.

"Why do you want to rule Ravka?" you frown at his question. You open your eyes and turn to the side to look at his face.

You took a little trip outside the palace. You were lying in a clearing in the forest on a picnic blanket. Your head was resting on Aleksander's stomach. One of his hands was lazily running through your hair, and the other was playing with your own hand.

"Why not? I would look nice on stamps and coins." you laugh carelessly, playing with his fingers.

"Answer the question." he says seriously, sitting up. Your head rests on his lap as he leans over you and looks at you with those piercing eyes of his, analysing your every little reaction.

"I don't want Ravka to look like it does now. Vasily is... like our father, conservative, without any new ideas, wanting to continue repeating established patterns. And Nikolai... is too controversial. He has revolutionary views, and the rule of both will end in a civil war. I don't want us to shed any more blood. Grisha and Ravkan... we are one. We are the same. Only you live a little longer and have additional benefits from your powers, but... it doesn't change the fact that we are born and die the same way. We believe in the same thing, and we want the same thing."

"Which is?" he asks, whispering, his dark eyes trained on you the entire time.

"Peace." you say, leaning back into him and closing your eyes. Sunlight filters through the treetops, illuminating your face. You sigh, wrapped in the warmth of your beloved Aleksander's arms and his scent. "Love." you add, opening your eyes and giving him a small, uncertain smile.

"You want to be loved?" he asks, disbelieving that someone like you, the daughter of the Lantsov family, could only want something so... simple. You always talked about taking power with ambition and fire in your eyes. He never thought that you didn't want it out of pure greed, but simply out of a desire to make Ravka better. Just like him.

"Everyone wants it. Even you, my mighty and scary shadow summoner." you snap him out of his thoughts by lifting your hand and caressing his bearded cheek. "And trust me when I say that I can give you all of the love of this world that you need."

"You don't know everything about me." he denies, knowing full well that you would run away from him, terrified, and that all your love for him would evaporate the moment you found out he was the Black Heret.

"You don't know everything about me either, sweetheart. I see your darkness. I see your struggles. You won't scare me away. You cannot. No amount of your shadows and the darkness of the past will do that." you promise, and he looks at you in shock. You push yourself up on your elbows and kiss him sweetly and lazily.

You act as if you have all the time in the world, and the only thing that matters is the two of you. And he allows himself to lose himself for a moment in this little fantasy you created with him in a forgotten clearing near the fountain dedicated to the Starless Saint.

"Eya fyela chi, moya tsarevna. For as long as I breathe. We shall rule together. Side by side." he whispers against your lips, and he's no longer sure who he's trying to fool. You or himself.

"I want nothing more, Aleksander." you reply, straddling him and cupping his neck as you pull him in for another kiss.

And he realises a very sad and bitter truth. That never before, in anyone else's arms, under anyone else's touches, kisses, and whispers of love and adoration, had he felt so happy and at peace as he did with you.

"Wow. Did Genya help you?" you snort at your brother's reaction as you enter the council room.

"What? Can't I dress nicely myself?" you mock him gently, laughing. You could slightly improve your appearance with the help of your favourite Grisha. After all, you had to show yourself to your ex somehow. And you were going to make sure the bastard would squirm, upset and mad that he wasn't with you anymore.

"Yes, you can, but you usually don't. Is this for a certain dark rebel general?" he teases with you, at which you roll your eyes.

"NO. And I wish you wouldn't insinuate such things. I'm not saying you're dressing up for the Sun Summoner or for that squaller of hers who's arguing with her all the time. Exactly! Who are you ultimately in love with? I haven't been able to keep up with the updates lately. You know. Saving my country from the fire of rebellion, and so on."

"You know what... I was going to wait here with you to spare you a one-on-one confrontation with our very peaceful and cute Darkling... BUT I remembered that Alina was waiting for me. Will you entertain your ex until we get here? Thanks, sister." he winks at you, smiling when he sees your expression fall, and he heads towards the exit, humming.

"Son of a bitch." you mutter under your breath as he walks past you.

"Yes, indeed!" he replies with an even bigger smile. You can only laugh and shake your head at him as he leaves you alone in the room.

You pace around the room, nervously picking at the bracelet on your wrist.

This was supposed to be the first time you would see him since you left for Shu Han and married their prince there. You heard that he changed after the events in the fold. That he went crazy about Alina and became obsessed with HIS Sun Summoner. His lust for power and greed only increased his dark madness, which made even his most trusted Grisha fear.

You heard rumours that he always had shadow monsters by his side and that he received a souvenir from his volcras in the form of black scars marring his face. Though you're not sure if anything can disfigure him.

Somehow, you feel him approaching. Before he touches the door handle, you know he's behind it. You lean against the table with Ravka's map on it and wait. Your heart beats rapidly as the silence of the room is broken by the sound of the door opening.

He doesn't come in right away. He freezes the moment he sees you. You take in his new appearance carefully, less surprised to see him than he is to see you. He has a few black scars on his face, his complexion is sallower, and his eyes are cloudy, probably from lack of sleep.

"Kirigan." you say, as he still doesn't make any moves towards you. The sound of your voice wakes him from his trance. He closes the door behind him, letting in a single shadow creature that follows silently behind him. You only stare at it for a moment before your gaze returns to his dark irises, which have been staring at you continuously since he opened the door.

"Princess." he watches you carefully, as if looking for any flaw—the slightest shake in your stoic and unflappable demeanour. Something that would prove to him that you're not better off without him. "I've heard about your husband's death. My sincere condolences." he says it in the most insincere tone you've ever heard.

"Thank you. It is very hard. He was such a good husband. Possibly the best I could come across." you say, smiling sadly, which only angers him more.

You see him press his lips into a thin line. His dark eyes never leave you, as he takes in every new detail in your appearance. His shadow monsters stand obediently behind him.

"Is this necessary?" you ask, nodding towards the shadow creature.

"Does it scare you? My Nichevo'ya are always with me." he says, as if to challenge you.

"No. Not at all. But now I don't wonder why no one else is besides it." your snide remark clearly hurts his pride. He takes a breath to respond, but the door opens again, and this time Alina and Nikolai join you.

"Aleksander." Sun Summoner greets him, and you roll your eyes. Of course he would tell her his real name. After all, it was his solnishka.

"Alina." he nods at her, taking his eyes off you. Because how could you compare to his sunshine?

"Nikolai. Welcome everyone. I guess we can start." Nikolai interjects jokingly, trying to break the obvious tension in the room. And by the way the three of you look at each other, you already know that this isn't going to be an easy negotiation at all.

"Egs." The man next to you hands you what you want. "Flour." He pours it in for you, which you let him do, considering that there wasn't a single bag in the Little Palace's kitchen and you were both too lazy to look for a bowl to measure it out with. Besides, you know it would end just like last time—a big war that the servants would have to clean up later. "Sugar." He hands you a clay jar, and you taste some of it before pouring it into the dough. You wince when you taste the salt, at which he laughs loudly. "Aleksander! What did I tell you last time?! I'm making you a birthday cake; you could at least not try to sabotage me." You roll your eyes at him and reach for the sugar yourself.

"I told you it wasn't necessary. There are other activities we could engage in." He murmurs against your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"If you had told me earlier, and not after the amazing sex, calling it the best birthday present you ever received, then we could. Now take your hands off me and help me mix the dough."

"But it's my birthday… shouldn't I be the one giving you orders?" He asks, giving you puppy-dog eyes. You break your facade and lean in, kissing him sweetly, only to pull away from him the moment his hands touch the hem of one his shirts he gave you to wear.

"Maybe next year. Now you better figure out how we can fit 200 candles in here for you." You pat his chest and try not to bite your lip as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and starts mixing the dough. You watch him uninhibitedly, though, and the way the muscles in his arms move.

"Actually, a little more."

"How many?" You ask curiously, taking a sip of wine from his glass since yours is long gone.

"531." You choke on your alcohol, and he laughs, wiping the rest of the cake off his hands and patting you gently on the back.

"Saints, I'm sleeping with a fossil."

"Just half an hour ago, you were doing it very enthusiastically, I must say."He whispers seductively, pressing a kiss on your temple as you transfer the dough to the baking tin.

"Oh, shut up." you say, trying to resist him somehow, but you both know how it will end soon. "Because someone will come in here and see us."

With a wave of his hand, a thick layer of shadows appears around the door. The palace kitchen is immersed in a gentle darkness; the only source of light is the fire from the stove where the cake is baked and the window.

"We have a while before it's ready... can I play with my present again?" he asks, picking you up and sitting on the table, getting between your legs.

"Do not say that. It's creepy." you say, pushing his hands away from the ties of the shirt you're wearing. He's not at all put off and instead attacks your neck with kisses.

"It's my birthday; you told me I could do anything with you, moya tsarevna." He reminds you, biting lightly on the skin of your neck and making you moan.

You tangle your hands in his hair and push him away from you. The disgruntled frown on his face reminds you of the face of a grumpy child, but you can't laugh now since you're trying to regain control of yourself.

"Within reason... so don't think you can seduce me with your old Ravkan, touch, or kisses. We are not doing that here." you state firmly, but he doesn't give up.

"But lapushka, you are the only dessert I want, milaya. Moi sol ye tselai. Zyoma maya olya. Eya chela (I'm hungry) for you. Eya fyela chi, don't you love me too, moya koroleva?" He whispers against your skin as he places kisses all over your face, his beard tickling you again, making you go completely soft for him the moment his lips capture yours in a hot, deep kiss that takes your breath away.

And neither of you are surprised that you almost set the kitchen of the Little Palace on fire, completely forgetting about the cake.

"I want my summoner back." you huff at his absurd demand, at which he frowns at you furiously.

"You have no right to her."

"She had trained under my and Baghr's gaze. She owes me. Her service will be enough payment."

"She is the bride of Ravka and the fiancée of one of my brothers." you continue firmly, not allowing anyone else to speak up and ignoring Alina's annoyed look at you.

"One of them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?" you growl in anger. He shifts in his seat; the strange creature is hovering next to him like a faithful dog, reacting to his every slightest movement. The son of a bitch tried to intimidate you.

"Not at all. It's good to know who I should get out of my way."

"If you mean what I think..." you start threateningly, completely ignoring his shadow monster.

"It would be very hard for her to be the bride of Ravka without a groom." he finishes his thought, smirking ominously at you when he sees your furious reaction.

"Oh, not at all. I would also be able to marry her." you tell him, and he glares at you madly. You hear this strange thing growling at his side. Apparently, it must have felt and shared his emotions.

"While being already mine? I doubt so."

"I belong to no one, and she belongs to Ravka!" you shout, standing up and slamming your hand on the table.

"She belongs to Grisha!" he stands up as well, banging his fist on the table. You both lean over the table on opposite sides, looking at each other hatefully. Shadows gather around him, behind his back.

"She is a person! And can speak out for herself. Thank you two very much. You know it, right? Saints, you two are perfect for each other." Nikolai interrupts the two of you before you two start a fight. He rubs his eyes with his hand and looks at the clock. "Gene… ekhem… Lord… um… Mister Kirigan. I think it would be better for all of us if we went to sleep. You and your people had a long way here; I'm sure you would use some sleep and the comfort of a bath." you'd laugh at your brother's awkwardness if your ex didn't get on your nerves like a damn master.

The Darkling sighs, nodding. He stands up, brushing invisible dust from his all-black kefta.

"I guess my chambers are still where they were?" he asks, heading towards the door, and you just can't help but stab him in the back at goodnight.

"You are not allowed to walk inside the Little Palace." you say stoically. Aleksander stops. Nikolai and Alina look at you as if you were a madwoman, suicidal.

"What?" he asks, turning towards you to glare daggers at you.

"That's not your property. You don't choose where you sleep."

"I built a Little Palace with my own hands when you were not even planning to come to this world!"

"And yet I am the one who has any rights to it. Besides, if you want to play that card, most of the population on this planet wasn't even planning to come to the world, and yet you are not going around and claiming things that don't belong to you. It also didn't stop you from seducing someone much younger than you."

"You… you are walking on very thin ice, princess." he growls at you furiously, getting so close that you're only a few centimetres apart. From this distance, you can get a good look at the black, raw scars on his face.

"I am not afraid." you reply firmly, looking at him defiantly and tilting your chin up. You both breathe heavily. Rage is boiling within you two; you both know it's not just caused by the disagreements over Ravka and Grisha, but something far more personal...

"You should be." he whispers. Your breaths practically mingle...

"If you say: make me, I will throw out my dinner. And I would rather not." you roll your eyes at your brother.

You throw one last hateful glare at Aleksander and walk to the exit. You can't stop yourself from hitting him in his arms with your own. He growled something under his breath, mad, but you don't care to listen.

You leave the room confident that you've won this little battle between the two of you. Little did you know that the real one wouldn't be fought between you until late at night.

"A chauvinistic imbecile who thinks that just because he was born first and has a penis between his legs, he has the right to behave like a future king. Even his stupid horses are smarter than him."

"Don't insult the horses, darling." Aleksander mutters over his papers, looking through the latest reports from under the fold.

He was about to leave for Kirbirsk to supervise the crossing of a new type of boat to the other side of the wall of shadows. You didn't like the prospect of being away from him for such a long time. Especially when your oldest (and probably stupidest) brother tried to convince your parents to marry you to the prince of Shu Han.

"Doesn't it bother you? Seriously? What if he succeeds and you will never see me again?" You ask furiously, crossing your arms and looking at him.

"No way, you're too much of a nuisance for me to get rid of you so easily." He replies jokingly. However, when he finally looks up at you and sees your serious, mad attitude, he throws the papers on the desk and stands up. He walks over to you and cups your cheek with his hand tenderly, which you reluctantly allow, still furious with him. "Even if something like that happens, which I highly doubt, given your manipulative skills, connections, and a large, beautiful mind that many men should fear, I will come for you. Always. Even if I have to fight the volcras, I will always come back for you." He says, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "You are mine, moya tsarevna. I'm not sharing you with anyone. Especially some pompous, high-born idiot who haunts Girsha like a haunting dog."

'But how long will it last? How long will you be feeling like this? I will die. Much faster than you. I am like a small ink stain in your long-lived book of life." you say, fully aware that you two are a lost cause.

But he doesn't let you think about it for long. He latches onto your lips hungrily, redirecting your thoughts to him and this moment between you. He pins you to the war table and effectively takes over your every little cell as his tongue tangles with yours. He moans softly as you tangle your hands in his hair. He somehow manages to distance himself from you. He rests his forehead against yours, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are not a stain. You are my light. Something I have wanted for centuries but could never experience. You saw me... all of me. And you never turned away. You never judged me for who I was or what I did. And I will do everything. Everything in my power to make sure you shine for me as long as possible, moya lapushka."

"So you won't replace me? For someone else? More powerful? Equal to you? You won't change us from lovers to strangers?" you ask as he places small kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck, and collarbone.

"Never." he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, his fingers finding effortlessly their way to the buttons of your dress, stroking and kissing every little bit of your skin he exposes as a promise.

Which he breaks a few weeks later when he meets Sun Summoner.

You know you shouldn't fall asleep in his chambers when he's back in Os Alta, but you've been doing it since you returned to Ravka.

After your first sleepless night in your chambers, you snuck into the Little Palace and into his chambers. And you hated yourself for how pathetic you were when you fell asleep the moment you wrapped yourself in his black blanket.

At first, you were tormented by memories of the time you spent with him, but as the days and weeks passed, memories of him only haunted you in your dreams. And now it was mostly habit that kept you in the general's chambers. After all, you spent a lot of time here. In fact, most of your happy memories. What a pity that they were just a facade, a web of lies that Aleksander had been weaving since the beginning of your relationship.

You shiver as a sudden chill passes through you. You reluctantly get out of bed and wrap yourself in a blanket. You walk over to the window, making sure it's closed, and close the curtains, plunging the room into complete darkness.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around you, pulling you into a broad chest. Before you can scream, a hand covers your mouth, and when you see the familiar black ring on one of the man's fingers, you go into a fit of pure fury.

You struggle against his grip, screaming into his hand, trying to bite it somehow. The blanket falls off of you, causing his arm to press you tighter against his body. You heat up as you feel yourself perfectly fitting against his body, involuntarily remembering... much more pleasant situations when he pressed you against him.

"Stop it. You'll only get tired. And I want to talk to you like a civilised person, so calm down." He whispers in your ear. His bearded cheek brushes against yours as he moves his hand from your mouth to your neck, squeezing gently as a reminder that if you try anything, he's ready to punish you.

"Calm the fuck down yourself. Since when does a civilised man sneak into a woman's bedroom to talk to her?"

"This isn't your bedroom."

"And this is not your palace." you reply teasingly, and by the way he tightens his grip on you, you know he has a scowl on his face. You smile, pleased that you're able to get under his skin.

"This is debatable. Will you stay still and listen to me, or do I have to hold you like that? Not that I mind, but I'd rather look at your face."

"And I feel disgusted every time I look at you, so I'd rather stay like this."

Not a second passes after you finish your sentence when he turns you around in his arms and pushes you against the large window behind you. You're glad you managed to close the curtains earlier; otherwise, you would have been pressed against the cold glass instead of the soft, velvety fabric by the angry Black Heretic.

And you wonder if you're losing your mind or if you've gained courage if you don't feel an ounce of fear as his shadow monsters circle around you. You can't quite recall how he called them since his dark eyes stared at you with an intense fire, which made you speechless for a while.

"You really have nothing else to tell me?" He asks calmly this time, running his thumb over the base of your neck. As if he were playing with his prey.

However, subconsciously, you know that he won't hurt you. If not for the sake of his feelings towards you, then at least because he's not stupid enough to kill Ravka's princess while he's negotiating... which you actually have no idea why he agreed to.

"Like what?" You finally ask, breaking the silence that had fallen between you. His face falls, you see a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and your eyes involuntarily land on the scars on his forehead, cheek, and nose. And suddenly, you feel a huge need to run your finger over them.

"I don't know... maybe why did you run away? You left and got married to Shu Han dog without saying me anything!"

"I didn't want to interrupt your fun with Alina. Honestly, what did you expect after you found yourself another woman? That I'll stay in some fucking threesome with you and your Sun Summoner?! You're not that good in bed, sweetheart." You mock him and the fact that he had the nerve to call you out on what you did. As if he wasn't the first to break the promises you made to each other in the privacy of his chambers. You were supposed to be partners in crime. It's not your fault that he decided to turn you into strangers.

"You know damn well that she was only a means to an end! The issue here is that you left me! You of all people turned away from me and ran away as if I meant nothing to you!" He shouts madly, slamming his hand on the window behind you in anger. You're surprised it didn't break into pieces under the pressure of his strength.

"Is that why you stuck your tongue in her mouth?! Because she was just a means to an end—a weapon you wanted to use? Besides, when were you going to tell me about widening the fold?!"

"That wasn't a reason for you to run away to another fucking country and marry anyone only to spite me!"

"But it was enough for you to kill him?!" You further question his actions, revealing to him that you know full well on whose orders the poison was poured into your husband's chalice... or that the black scars on his body were not caused by an infection.

"And how else could you be mine again?! Also, don't pretend that you have any morals. We both know that you didn't particularly mourn his death. I had to somehow fix the mistakes you made because of your bratty attitude."

"If you would just be honest with me from the beginning, you fucking distrustful son of a bitch, then there would be nothing to fix!”

"Do you want me to be honest?" He growls furiously, leaning towards you, your noses practically brushing against each other as he keeps his gaze on your eyes. "There wasn't a single damned second that I didn't think about you. Not a single dream without you, tormenting me because I can't have you. Do you know what I was thinking about in the fold when I thought I was going to die? About you. All I could think about was the time we spent together, when I had you in my arms. I do not want anyone else. Alina or any other fucking Sun Summoner. I don't want power; I can't do anything without you by my side anyway. So don't stand here and blame me for ruining our relationship when I love you with all the shattered heart I have left."

"So don't give me reasons to leave." You whisper, tired from all this arguing, as he reinforces your belief that you both suffered without each other and that you got under each other's skin so deeply that it was impossible to stop thinking about each other.

You hold back the tears you promised yourself not to shed because of him. He cups your cheek tenderly in his hand and rests his forehead against yours as you breathe out shakily, trying to maintain your facade in front of him.

"Maybe you should stop running away every time you have doubts about me? Why can't you have some faith in me?" He asks in a shaky voice, making you open your eyes to meet his pleading gaze. It's the first time in your life you've seen him so... defenseless. Open. Vulnerable.

"I have no doubt about you, Aleksander. I know you are capable of anything. That nothing can stand in your way if you really set your mind to it, not even Alina or Baghra. I don't care about Alina, what you wanted to do with her, or if your plans were moral or not. The problem is that you lied to me. You went behind my back."

"And look where it got me. Do you think I'll do it again?" He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss on your forehead.

He rests his lips against your forehead for a while, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling your scent as you both try your best to have a proper conversation and don't melt in each other's arms.

"I don't now. You gave me many reasons not to trust you. Alina's case, destroying the fold, Baghra being your mother. I guess the list goes on and on."

"The last one had reasonable reasons." he says, pulling away from you to look into your eyes.

You can't help but burst out laughing. He smiles and cups your cheek in his hand. The healed scar from the amplifier attracts your attention.

"You removed it. Why? That was your only connection to Alina and her power." You ask confused, realising that the strange connection between them didn't disappear because Alina became stronger but because he completely removed the amplifier from his system.

"The only connection I want to have is with you." He says confidently, taking your hands in his. "Besides... after using Merzost, I became... weaker. Holding this amplifier would cause infection, poison my blood, and ultimately kill me."

"Are you… dying? After the second use of Merzost?"

"Don't worry, moya tsarevna. I have a long enough life ahead of me with you." He says, caressing your cheek. "And after discovering some entries from my grandfather's diary, I know how to extend it for you."

"What if I don't want it? If I don't want you anymore?"

"Then I have nothing to lose. I will do anything to bring Grisha to the throne, to their place above everyone else in this damn country. And I'll make sure you stay by my side. Willingly or not. You always belonged to me. You were supposed to rule with me, side by side. And with the time I will provide you, I am sure you will find in your heart the love for me again. Although I doubt that any of us could lose it in such a short time."

You shiver at his certainty and his dark gaze. However, it is not a thrill of fear but of excitement... and you are not surprised that this was his plan B. If you were him, you would do the same.

You signed a pact with him on the first night you spent together. There was no turning back from then on. You were supposed to be together. As absurd as it may sound. Princess of Ravka and the Black Heretic. Otkazat'sya and Grisha. Monsters on Ravka's throne. But only you would be able to restore balance without causing a civil war.

You might not trust each other, be suspicious of each other, or disagree with the decisions you made, but you knew that you both had Ravka's best interests in mind. No matter who else gets hurt, that was how the word worked: you were either a martyred saint or a selfish sinner. And you weren't going to suffer for the sake of anything else but your country. And Aleksander was fed up with his people suffering for who they were, simply for being.

Together, you could do great things.

"Tomorrow is the reading of my damned father's will. His last will is about to include who he wanted on the throne. We have enough time to…"

"I've already taken care of it. You will be a beautiful, wise and cruel tsaritsa." He cuts you off before you can finish your thought, and you smile. One mind. You've always acted like this... but only if you didn't hide anything from each other.

"I will have competition, with such a tsar at my side." you say, and finally allow yourself to lean in and kiss him. His mouth is a little chapped, but you don't mind when all you can focus on is the warmth that engulfs you in his arms again and the pleasant tingling that spreads from your lips throughout your body as he groans in pleasure. You pull away from him just as he wants to deepen the kiss. You tease him a little, and you reach out to caress the black scars on his face with your fingertips. "If you look at Alina even once, I will gouge out both of your eyes and make sure your little sun never shines again." You whisper, placing small kisses where the scars are most visible.

He doesn't freeze; he doesn't tense up. He just moans quietly at the touch of your lips in the places he hates the most and which you seem to treat with fascination and tenderness.

You were as jealous of him as he was of you. You both would kill anyone who dared to steal the other from you. And you both know it's not the worst thing you are able to do for each other.

"Don't worry… I'll only be able to see you. And how beautiful and breath-taking you will look in the crown and my black colours."

"Black?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him and pulling away slightly.

"Yes. You're mine. As well as I am yours." he says, picking you up as he walks to your bed.

"I won't wear a kefta. This damn thing is hard to take off," you tell him immediately, at which he laughs, unbuttoning his own.

"We'll see." he replies to you with a mischievous smirk and leans over you, kissing you again.

And later that night, as you lie curled in each other's arms and discuss the plans you have for Ravka in whispers, you know you wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you face more fights and doubts with him. And there is no doubt that you would try to manipulate each other to get what you want—to try and make the other feel guilty just to bring your own plan to life—but neither of you wanted to be left on top of the world utterly alone.

It was too late for you to be strangers to each other again. And since neither of you cared about your reputation, your morals, or who you would become in the eyes of the world, you might as well make them fear you. You will be the most terrifying pair of lovers in history.

And as he fell asleep, you started playing with the ball of light with a small smile on your face, squeezing his hand as an amplifier you needed to strengthen the connection you managed to make with Alina that no one knew about. Well... besides you, only the Durast, who made an engagement ring for the Sun Summoner, knew that you were trying to gain from her the power you needed to be an equal for the sleeping Shadow Summoner wrapped around you.

You would tell him... in time.

First, you had to learn how to use your new powers and make sure the connection between you and Alina would last. However, this required much more drastic measures than putting a collar around her neck or a small ring on her finger.

You press a kiss on his chest and rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. You fall asleep in his arms, wondering how you'll convince him to give you some of his mother's bones... or his own.

After all, Morozova's amplifiers were the strongest.

You will soon see this for yourself when, right after your coronation and marriage, you find out that you were unconsciously carrying one under your heart after this night.

[hxad-ovxr-hxart]

You Are Not Alone

Summary: Bastogne took a lot out of everyone, thankfully Eugene Roe is an angel among men, and someone of whom you cant help but love

Pairing: Eugene Roe x Nurse!Reader (implied female/feminine character in video, not in writing!)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, Bastogne😢, a few swear words, my poor baby Gene being sad, (let me know if i need to add anything!)

a/n: hi @thicccqueyoongimin! I am your HBO summer exchanger for @hbowardaily's hbowar 2024 summer exchange! I had a lot of fun working on this and I apologize that I wasn't posted sooner but my dog got sprayed by a skunk twice and I'm currently writing this on my phone in the library bc most of my towns Internet is down 😂 you said angst and you said Eugene Roe and I went for it so I hope you like it!! (I also low key listened to High School Lover on repeat writing this tehe)

this is based on the actors in the show Band of Brothers, not the real men who served

Being a nurse in what you could only imagine to be the coldest place in the world was something you had never planned for yourself, yet here you are bloodied and bruised, hands full of dog tags that will never belong to their owners again. And as hard as you tried to scrub the blood from your fingernails and the memories from your mind that twisted their way into your subconscious, a nasty reminder that there is nothing fair about war, you couldn't. Because nothing could ever be fair in war.

Nothing besides Eugene Gilbert Roe, the kindest, fairest, simplest man you had met in this unforgiving, frozen wasteland. Love was not meant for war, but when Eugene was noting short of an angel, it was hard to deny it. As soon as he had arrived, asking for help on the front lines, speaking to Renee, he was gone. Bastogne long forgotten as they continued their push into enemy territory, doing lord knows what to stay alive. But before he had departed after returning due to word of the make shift hospital being blown to pieces, he told you to write him. And so you did. You wrote him as much as time permitted, though his letters became fewer in number until they stopped arriving, your worst fear etched deep into your mind. But in one of your last, you told him your address, in case you ever got to make it back to the United States, you wanted him to know he was welcome to visit.

And then you cried. Your cried when you heard the war was over, you cried when you were relieved of your nursing duties. But you most of all cried during those nights that were too quiet, too peaceful, thinking of Eugene Roe, man's angel. You mourned, regardless if he be dead, for he had seen too much to atwastbnit be fully alive anymore, not really. You mourned his family who would see a different man emerge from the train that takes him to Louisiana, a place he talked of often.

Nearly a year later, you're sitting in your mother's living room, the house seemingly a lot emptier without all of your knickknacks laying about, now cluttering your own place instead. It's nearing sun down when a knock comes at your door, your brother answering, his limp prominent from his war time injury, and in walks a man you thought dead.

Eugene Roe, man's angel, a live reminder that there is still kindness in the world, standing in front of you, hat in hand. "You're here."

Your words, barely above a whisper as he takes three full strides, enclosing you in the arms that had saved so many lives, now holding yours. "I'm here," he confirms. "I'm here."

[unicornpopcorn14]

1, 8, or 32 for skk (from the hug prompts) 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

bestie you can’t do this to me i will request all of them

THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD PROMPTS I AGREEEE

Hug prompts

Decided to go for 1- "Are you cold? You look like you're freezing."

Additionally, for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 Day 3: Good Intentions + Masks

Words: 3.3k. Hope you like it, Essie!! :D

Rings a Bell

You’d think being stuck with your former partner/enemy in a confined space is the worst thing that can happen to a person…

But no, it can get worse, when said confined space happens to be a fucking freezer room.

Yeah, Chuuya has no idea what led them to this. Well, he does, but thinking about it too hard might cause his fifth aneurism today, and, less importantly, dissipate his already fickle energy.

A snicker resounds from beside him, “Chuuya’s growling like a dog again!”

“Shut the fuck up before I hang you from that meat hook myself…” He tries to give his usual bite, but it falls short as his stomach lurches again, feeling awful in all sorts of places.

Great news: he can’t see shit. Mostly blurry shapes and wavering colors, but never past that. It doesn’t help that he has the fattest migraine of the century, accompanied by an urge to vomit he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to fight against this long. Arahabaki, the damn scoundrel, decides to stay standstill and let him handle this one on his own. Fucking fantastic.

He had been told what poison he’s been injected with, but he can’t for the life of him remember the name right now.

And who’s to blame for all of this? You guessed it.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai claps with a higher-than-normal-pitch, which successfully sends stronger-than-usual-ringing to his ears, “How did you know the new method I was planning to try out?! And you’re offering to help me?! My, you should get poisoned more often!”

“You’re lucky I currently am, piece of shit…” God, he wanted to sound harsher than that– perhaps come up with a more creative thing to retort with, but that all gets swept away by low groans and helpless eye rolls…

Chuuya doesn’t know why he even bothers with looking out for that bastard when all he does is become a pain in the ass afterwards. Every time he tells himself he would wholly ignore his former partner the next joint mission, something like this happens which throws all of his vows to the curb:

Dazai was probably distracted, probably not, but Chuuya grabbed him aside anyways, rendering him without an ability for just a second.

And right then a needle buried in his neck.

They got their asses handed to them immediately afterwards, because of course, and the fuckers decided to add onto their frozen meat collection today of all days– thus, their predicament.

Which consists of opposite organization members seated in a freezer room against an icy wall, the mafia member certainly looking more limp and uncoordinated than the other. Chuuya doesn’t know how Dazai’s seated, but he’s 90% sure he isn’t staying still for the life of him, so guessing that would be impossible.

“Think Koyou-san will send a search party after you?” The question comes out as slyly as you’d think a Dazai-question would come out.

“This fast? No… She knows I can handle myself…” Dazai should already know this, as nothing has changed much in the last four years. Chuuya groans out, breathing coming in difficult, “I’d have to be gone for an entire week before she gets worried.”

“Hm, same with the Agency. But not that long. Just a day at most…” He hears shifting from beside him once again, overly wary of his surroundings since his sight is on hold, “So we’re stuck here until the poison symptoms wear off. Alone. Together. Great.” Dazai concludes like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“At least you have the blessing of seeing in front of you.” Chuuya closes his eyes to stop his spinning vision, as perhaps that can help keep the migraine at bay, “Do you realize… how nerve-racking it is to stay this close to you while blind?! You might try anything…!”

“That’s right!” Dazai chirps, his enthusiasm successfully making Chuuya’s nerves prickle, “Chuuya better use his ultra-deduction-instincts if he wishes to stand a chance!”

He grimaces while thumping his head back, wanting to re-demand the other to shut up for how splitting his voice rings in his skull, but Dazai would probably take that as an opportunity to scream, so he resorts to: “God, I hate you…”

From (unfortunate) experience, and seeing how high on the awful-feeling scale this falls, Arahabaki will stay asleep for twenty more minutes -adding to the fifteen he already suffered through-, until he finally feels the need to fucking do something and starts kicking his freaky immune system to life.

His breath comes out as condensed clouds, each intake of breath colder than the last. The shitty smell of raw meat doesn’t help with the nausea, and he has half a mind to sleep all of this off, but leaving the suicidal freak alone with metal hooks all around is probably a wildly stupid idea. He’s still weighing his options-

“I’m booooored!!” Dazai suddenly whines, high pitched and grating. Chuuya jolts, opening his eyes in order to send the other a scowl out of habit.

Only various shades of brown meet his vision, swimming before him. The migraine remerges tenfold,  “Wh-”

“Chuuya, entertain me!” Dazai leans onto him, shoulder to shoulder, so roughly that the clench of his stomach tightens. Chuuya barely has the energy to push the bastard back, said bastard surely aware of that, “Be my jester! Now, now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Hey-”

Just as Dazai straightens on his own, Chuuya feels his fedora getting snatched, followed by low chuckles and murmurs of “Disgusting hat, I’mma burn you when we’re out of here…”

If Chuuya were to sound crazy, he’d have told you that Dazai is purposely being extra obnoxious right now– ridiculously so, but four years of separation might have granted him the blessing of forgetting how annoying Dazai could truly get, thus doesn’t humor that thought…

“You have two seconds before I start calling for grantors of dark disgrace and level this whole room over your head.” He warns, and doubts this is a good idea at all (Forcing Arahabaki awake is never a good idea). But he’s seriously getting tipped over the edge and the drug rushing in his veins isn’t helping in the slightest, “Give it, now.”

Dazai stays silent for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. Catching a glimpse of his face threatens to empty out the contents in his stomach, so Chuuya just decides to close his eyes again and relish this brief moment of piece, brushing the flicker of confusion aside.

Then the grating is back, “Fiiiine…”

It’s weird how Dazai takes his already outstretched hand and places the fedora on top of it, even lingering the hold on his gloved fingers for a second before letting go. Weird, but not concerning.

“Smart choice.”  He plants his belonging back on his head, sighing lowly. The option of sleeping sounds like a dream right now– would save him the trouble of handling the two constant problems in his life at once. But nothing ever feels as good as it sounds in Chuuya’s case– sometimes his comfort comes with a heavy price, even.

Suffering through this it is, then.

“Ne, you really still can’t see?” Dazai leans onto him again– not as roughly, but certainly making Chuuya lose his balance all the same, “What about the headache? Is it getting any better? Is it? I’m bored- can you see yet? Can y-”

“No I fucking can’t, that’s why we’re still here!” Chuuya exclaims, successfully shoving him off, unable to handle Dazai’s toddler whining a second longer, “You think I wouldn’t have kicked the door down the second I regained my ability?!”

“Eh, you’re right. The air smells so bad when a dog is sharing it with me.” Dazai taunts, and must be leaning back onto the wall now, legs overly outstretched before him (probably rocking his heels back and forth) because God forbid he ever sit normally, “Too bad the door is too sturdy to budge with my kicks.”

“Cuz you’re a wuss.”

“Cuz it’s sturdy.” The other stresses, then it’s silent for a few minutes. The moment the headache begins to dissipate into a buzzing sting, rather than pounding ache, Dazai decides he should resume the torture session,

“Chuuya should cut his hair.”

That’s… so random. Even by Dazai standards. “What the he- Are you touching it?!”

Fingers tug on the longer end of his hair, brushing it, “Need scissors.”

Chuuya wishes he could recoil back in disgust, he really does, “Keep your grubby fingers to yourself, piece of shit! You know how much product I use?!” He tries to smack the hand away, never lands on it, “They’re worth your damn hands.”

Dazai blows a raspberry, and the fingers meekly abort, “My bad for trying to make a slug look a hundred times better.”

“This is neither the time nor place for it, freak.”

“Oh, so you agree to cutting it later? Consent granted!”

Chuuya springs up from the wall, “THAT’T NOT WHAT I-” At the violent lurch he receives in his abdomen, he gags mid-sentence, but thankfully doesn’t fully throw up. Or unthankfully. He isn’t sure what’s better for him at the moment. He tries to breathe through the acid in his throat, “Fuck…”

He hears shifting from beside him, peeking to deduce Dazai hugging his knees now– rocking back and forth? He closes his eyes again, wishing time wasn’t a slow bitch at the moment. One arm presses to his abdomen, right where it’s angry and upset, the other stays numb on the floor beside him. Several clouds form in front of his lips, with him somehow sweating midst the freezing room, the water cooling on his burning skin terrifyingly fast. Perhaps a minute more and they’d turn solid.

“Can your trusty dusty chaos God wake up any faster?” Oh, right. Dazai isn’t dead yet, so peace for him isn’t an option, “Does turning him off and on again works?”

Chuuya rigids once something that feels like ice pokes his cheek,

“Fucking hell, when did you find an ice cube?” He uncoordinatedly smacks the thing away, which turns out to be a hand. Huh. “You already know the answer to that, bastard. Why are you even trying?”

“Worth it…” He giggles, something breathy about it, off. Chuuya pauses, sharpening his hearing instantly, because anything off regarding Dazai is always a bad sign, and his sense about this never lies. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. “Besides, pestering Chuuya when he’s weak is fun! You think I won’t take my chances? You really don’t know me at all!”

At that his concentrated frown dissipates, immediately replaced by one of assessment.

“Wait a second…” He keeps his head hanged and eyes closed, but his tone rumbles all the same, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Whatever you mean, sluggy poo?”

Chuuya doesn’t fall for the bait, sharpening his hearing even more, “I thought you were being annoying just for the sake of it, but now you’re outright telling me you’re being annoying?” He lifts his head to look at the direction of the other, sending a glare with closed eyes, “You’re trying to hide something. Out with it.”

“Pfff, paranoid much, aren’t we?”

And just like that, Chuuya catches it.

The shivers in the other’s breathing, that automatically translate to shudders in his speech, are so subdued, desperately trying to stay hidden from him, trying to get concealed behind loud pitches and provoking fronts.

It’s a testament to how far gone his mind is in order for that to escape him.

“You’re-” Without asking for verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t get, Chuuya hurriedly takes off his gloves, “Gimme that- where is it?” He blindly wanders till he finds a bandaged wrist and grasps it. The stiffen of the other gets ignored as his hands travel to the only bare parts in Dazai’s body– his fingers and face. The fingers are frigid to the point where he can’t hold them for more than a few seconds, while the moment he clumsily smacks the face in order to cup it with both hands, it’s like all his body heat rushes to it– the skin cold, hungry and craving any kind of warmth, “What the hell- you’re fucking freezing!”

“Wow, what an astute observation, Chuuya.” He hears the roll of the other’s eyes, as Dazai’s quivering fingers hold onto both of Chuuya’s wrists, trying to push them away from his face but not putting that much effort into it, “It’s not like we’re literally in a freezer room.”

“No- this isn’t normal.” Chuuya declares, squeezing the cheeks in. How come cold skin can burn so much? “We’ve only been here for like…”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it take about… way longer for hypothermia to kick in?”

“That’s you! You’re the abnormal one!” Dazai exclaims, sounding more genuine than he has been since they’ve been thrown in here. Scratch that– since he’d known him, “You think all people come with a built-in heater? I thought you realized that that’s not the case during your mission in Siberia. And you call me a fish.”

Chuuya pauses promptly. Oh, right. Sometimes he forgets that he isn’t the only one who occasionally wakes up to screams coming from within, or feels unprecedented urge to unleash chaos in stressful situations, or even runs way warmer than others. These are constants in his life. Constants he has to remind himself that no other person experiences…

And even if Arahabaki is asleep, the remnants of his abnormally high temperature is still very much intact. Chuuya doesn’t feel much past the chills of the poison itself, other than that? Coolness at best at his extremists. He’d need to stay here thirty minutes longer for the real frigidness to kick in…

Though Chuuya is equally aware that while his core temperature is abnormally high, Dazai’s core temperature is, funnily enough, abnormally low. Leave him out in the snow for a few minutes and you’d get a hypothermic mackerel popsicle in no time.

Chuuya grimaces. Stupid, stupid.

How could he forget that? His mind defends him, tells him it must have been the poison, that it must have played a part in brushing that fact aside. Chuuya wants to curse it out. He’s retained many random facts about Dazai by heart– so, so many, some even entirely useless; but when it comes to important stuff he somehow has to be reminded of them the hard way. What is wrong with him?

Well, time to make up for that. Harshly, because the bastard deserves it.

“I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much.” He lies through his teeth, but his voice is almost soft, fingers still intact with the skin cosplaying an ice wall, “You’re the one with a terrible immune system that is eager to kill you at the first given chance.”

Dazai chuckles, breathily once again. Shakily, the accurate word for it. “Dying by hypothermia i-isn’t too bad, actually!”

“Just- fucking drop it, will you? You don’t need to do that shit.” Once again he grits out softer than intended, finally cutting the contact. If he had his eyes working, he’d have seen the way Dazai chases the hands for a second before collecting himself and drawing back, “Come closer before I snatch you by the hair.”

“Chuuya wouldn’t have the energy to, anyway…” Dazai finally sounds as slurred and exhausted as he should, and Chuuya’s thankful he can even move– numbness probably there but hasn’t fully settled in.

“You remember our code?”

“Code white? O-Of course I do. Have many fond memories with it.” He hears the rustle of fabric, which means that Dazai is taking off his coat. Chuuya does the same, if a little slower.

“Stage?”

“Mild.”

Chuuya exhales, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing body heat with you properly.”

There is a pause, then, “…Severe, then.” He sees the smirk in the Dazai’s face without the need to see at all.

“That so? I’ll bash your head against that metal wall, then.” He knocks behind him twice, just as he senses Dazai drawing near, “Seems like it would do the trick nicely.”  

“No thanks, I-I change my mind. I’d like the mild-stage treatment.”

“Just as I thought.”

Chuuya suddenly feels a weight on his lap, and acts. He takes both of their coats and wraps them with it as make-shift blankets, just as Dazai gets comfortably seated, ear over Chuuya’s heart, knees tucked close. The redhead presses his lips on the hair beneath him before he can help it, feeling the frost that has settled there. One arm supports the taller’s shoulder and back, while the other wraps around Dazai’s midsection, keeping him caged in.

Now without the need to hide anything, Dazai’s shivers turn to trembles, rocking him to his core and rocking Chuuya along with it. The brunette wraps the coats tighter around himself, pulse audibly rapid and panicking, trying to compensate the body for the heat it lost apace.

Chuuya’s migraine begins dissipating a little, and he dares open his eyes, to find the variety of colors taking the form of actual shapes, now. He relaxes, just as he feels Dazai do the same– their positioning, strange as it may come for them, somehow feeling utterly natural…

“Gosh, I almost forgot your stupid tendency to never speak up in situations like this.” The mafioso chastises midst the curls, “What? Were you trying to make up for the fact that I got drugged cuz of you?” Chuuya is sure there might be a number of other reasons, like the fact that Dazai could have simply been waiting to die like that– to pass out from the cold and never feel it when Chuuya tries to wake him up again.

But Dazai’s silence grants him an abundance of answers, one of them that confirms his verbal question, and he tskes in displeasure.

“Goody-two-shoes act that makes me sick...” He rasps, his upset stomach comforted with the added pressure to it.

Dazai huffs, finding the energy to nuzzle his cheek to Chuuya’s chest exactly like a freaking cat, “My personal heater…”

At how weirdly endearing that sounds, Chuuya bristles, “I’m not your fucking-”

“Along with being my dog? Too many jobs for your brain to handle, Chibi…!” Dazai’s slurred speech sounds funny, but the words themselves cause the shorter to growl, “You’ll overwork yourself!”

“Your neck is in a perfect position to get snapped. Watch your words.”

“Hm…” Dazai takes the threat in stride, one of his hands that was lost under the blanket coming up to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder, “The air still smells bad, by the way.”

“Then I’ll keep you trapped in it for longer.” Chuuya counters, sharing his former partner’s frigidness without mind or care. He meekly feels the forehead concealed under brown bangs, to find it minutely warmer than before. Good, great.

“How much longer are we staying here again…?” Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks, cozy, “Not much. I can see better now.”

“Mm, then all your strength will be back in ten minutes at most…”

“Of course you still memorize the exact cooldown duration of my ability.” Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his splitting headache, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dazai keeps quiet, head hanging as he mumbles, “Chuuya’s the one with a bad memory…”

The redhead pauses, unable to deny the present truth before him, “Maybe…” He mumbles back, then huffs, “But at least you’re a thorn in my side that annoyingly reminds me of the kind of stuff I eagerly want forgotten…”

“If it’ll make Chuuya miserable,” Dazai tilts his head up. Chuuya sees the smile so clear, bright and giddy. Blurry at the edges but real. “I’ll always be a thorn in his side that will always keep annoyingly reminding him…”

Something leaps in his heart at the connotation embedded in these words, of his former partner vowing to never leave again, to forever be a part of the mafioso’s life despite what life has done them, despite the circumstances. And Chuuya himself vows to never forget how such a simple word almost sent him in a haze of emotions so deep and human. The word always.

His hold tightens, and he hides his face before mumbling, “Of course it will make me miserable, bastard…”

~~~~

Hc for context: I’m a ‘Chuuya has amnesia as a trauma response’ believer. Like yeah he remembers some details regarding missions but otherwise blocks out anything his mind deems too stressful to deal with. “Your mission in Siberia” Actually had most of his subordinates die because they stayed for the cold too long. :’) Obviously, some missions with Dazai are in that chunk as well, along with the entirety of Stormbringer cuz I said so jnrgjrn.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! This wasn’t my best work so forgive me, Essie! I’ll try my best to edit and tweak some things in here when I have the energy. <33

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello Cat, I have been stalking your blogs for about a year now. Your writing is impeccable and I hope to be as amazing as you are some day.

Anyways, I have a request for a possessive Hero getting jealous over supervillain being creepily touchy. But villain is oblivious to it all. H

If you do this, thanks! ❤️

All it took was one news report.

The hero had wasted their evening on the couch, trying to get as much takeout into their stomach as possible, not even paying much attention.

It didn't really bother them to see themselves on TV, however when they announced "exclusive footage" showing the villain, their interest was piqued. Usually, they got to footage like that before the reporters did, so they were more than pissed when they saw the "questionable relationship drama" between the villain and the supervillain on screen.

The supervillain's hands had grabbed into the villain's flesh easily, not even realising when the other had flinched. Obviously, the reporters had speculated about an undeniable sexual relationship, hinting at all kinds of...preferences.

Of course, that had only put more salt into the hero's wound. They had been boiling for over a week.

And now, the hero couldn't even lift their head to look at the villain.

"Ready to give up?" the villain asked, out of breath. They looked horribly exhausted, had looked like that for over two weeks and they were still getting up and still pretending to fight the hero.

"You're injured. This would be a quick fight if I took it seriously," the hero replied and, unfortunately, their stomach was burning. "Let's call it a day."

"No way."

The hero turned around, eyes bloodshot, watching their enemy carefully. And nothing, absolutely nothing could fight the demons in their head that imagined the supervillain's fingers digging into them. God, the hero had lost already, hadn't they?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the villain asked, their voice closer to a whisper than anything else. Frankly, the hero didn't know. They couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Whenever they thought about the villain, the supervillain appeared right behind them.

Such a wicked demon infesting their dreams and turning them into nightmares. Sometimes they went too far, showing the other two kissing.

The worst thing was that the villain seemed to enjoy that. Every touch and every kiss. The hero knew, hoped, that wasn't the case. Hoped the villain would end this.

"Do you like them?" the hero asked quietly.

"What?"

"The supervillain. Are they good to you?"

"They're my boss. Wait, are you talking about the footage they released?" the villain asked. Now, they seemed uneasy, unfocused, panicking, somehow.

"Yeah. Is it consensual?"

The villain didn't say anything for a long time and that was enough of an answer for the hero. They had sworn to never kill a human being but this time, they felt like they could make an exception. Poison, maybe? A fight? The hero wasn't sure what was appropriate enough for someone like that, what they deserved.

Poison seemed to be too nice and a fight would exhaust the hero-

"...I guess not saying 'no' is a yes for them. They never do...things that go too far but they also don't really stop. I mean, how on earth am I supposed to say no to my boss? I'll get fired or killed if I do." The hero looked at them, looked at the exhaustion written into their features and the hero was fully aware of their own feelings now.

"Can I get your permission to take care of this?" they asked, still staring at the villain.

"What do you mean?"

"Will you allow me to kill them?"

Again, the villain was quiet. But despite the hero's slowly developing bloodlust, they thought they could see hope light up in the villain's eyes.

"You're free to kill whomever you want to kill," they said finally.

And even though that was a pretty forward statement, probably neither expected the hero to show up at the villain's doorstep, covered in blood and gore a few hours later.

[nalyra-dreaming]

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

:)

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

__________________

"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

__________________

"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.

[stardustprompts]

the empire of gold   (  the daevabad trilogy book 3 )  part 2  -   s. a. chakraborty change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  /  part one found  here. tw ;  death , war ,  violence

‘you are an exceedingly frustrating person to talk to.’

‘she scared me, and I am not a woman who frightens easily.’

‘it’s supposed to be the mark of a wise leader, right? the willingness to make sacrifices for a greater good? but nobody ever asks those ‘sacrifices’ if they’re willing— they get no say in whether or not their kids die for some supposed greater good.’

‘we die, and we bleed, and it’s a debt that the powerful never repay. I don’t want to be part of that.’

‘I have made my loyalty clear.’

‘I find I can get a more accurate measure of a man when he’s not aware he’s being appraised.’

‘you have a very long way to go to earn my trust.’

‘i’m not tossing away (name’s) legacy. i’m completing it.’

‘it feels like you’re keeping all these secrets, like you still don’t trust me.’

‘oh, (name). what have you done?’

‘you court death with far too much persistence.’

‘I do not wish to leave. I am very content here with you.’

‘I want you dead and I want your city destroyed.’

‘the ___ do not deserve your loyalty. no one in the world does.’

‘they are poisoned. they are infected. and you are the disease.’

‘I need to go. there is no other way.’

‘I won’t lose you. not again.’

‘you and I are not the worst of our ancestors. they don’t own us. they don’t own our heritage.’

‘it’s a shame you hate politics. you’d be a very good queen.’

‘do you want me to stop?’

‘it’s like you’re in a competition with yourself over picking the worst time to say something.’

‘look me in the eye and tell me the truth. you promised no more lies.’

‘if saving ___ had meant likely killing me, would you have done it?’

‘so you plan to mock me as I bleed to death? that sounds like terrible bedside manner.’

‘don’t be stupid or reckless or proud. give her what she wants and come back to me.’

‘promise me. promise me you’ll come back.’

‘i’m not here to stop you. everything in my blood screams at me to, but I know I can’t.’

‘there is nothing I wouldn’t give for you.’

‘I am so sorry for the words I spoke before, but I won’t burden you with my regrets or my grief.’

‘I was starting to believe in you, in all these things you’ve been saying about a new ___ and equality for my people.’

‘you made me think it might be possible. that if I ever went home, it’d be as some kind of hero, and maybe all the other things I’ve done wouldn’t matter.’

‘i’m helping you. the right fucking thing to do and all that.’

‘there’s no helping me. i’m not getting out of this. all you’ll do is get yourself killed.’

‘I didn’t ask your permission. and I’m not doing this for you.’

‘(name) said you were coming in peace. the face you are making does not indicate peace.’

‘do you not understand? you have lost. save yourself and what is left of your people before their blood is on your hands.’

‘you’ve gone too far, and I’m trying to bring you back!’

‘you keep doing that. making that face like I’m an enemy you have to guard yourself against. i’m not.’

‘you’re not the only one whose had to pretend to be different. whose had to smile politely when people with power insult the parts of you that you never get to wear openly.’

‘I wish you had trusted me. but more than that, I wish I had behaved in a way that would have encouraged you to trust me.’

‘do you have to do that? sound all reasonable and kind?’

‘I have a lot of experience in loving frustrating people.’

‘if you make me cry, I’m going to stab you.’

‘we need to be able to trust each other if we’re going to fight back.’

‘it was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I didn’t blink an eye.’

‘I know how hard it is to think clearly when someone you love is in danger.’

‘I feared even thinking about the things that would make me happy would destroy them. and it does.’

‘we do not interfere. we seek to avert the greatest harm, to listen to the warnings of the heavens when it’s laws are about to be broken.’

‘you said your people had a proposal for me. so why don’t you state it? clearly, if that’s even possible for you.’

‘let’s not pretend you care about justice when it comes to the internecine squabbles of my people.’

‘please understand. i’ve lost everyone I’ve dared to love. I can’t lose you. not you.’

‘you’re not alone anymore. you don’t have to do this all by yourself!’

‘we can do this together. I don’t need you to save me!’

‘I am not a good man. I am a weapon.’

‘was any of it ever real between us?’

‘I hate you. I hate that I ever had feelings for you.’

‘I offered you mercy once, and you threw it in my face. don’t make that mistake again.’

‘i’m not looking for your mercy. i’m here to save our people.’

‘do you hear yourself? do you have any idea how naïve you sound?’

‘you think I had a choice? I had no one and nothing!’

‘I did not want this violence. it will haunt me to the end of my days, but I will be damned if it was for nothing.’

‘surrender. you cannot defeat her. it will be easier.’

‘oh, (name). you always did underestimate me.’

‘i’m sorry you and I didn’t grow up in a time of peace, where we could have lived happily together.’

‘I mourn, truly, the kind of relationship we could have had.’

(name) didn’t break me. you won’t either.’

(name) didn’t break me. you won’t either. I will never surrender to you.’

‘you have your mother’s/father’s spirit. it got her/him killed too.’

‘i’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.’

‘you have hurt me. you left me.’

‘my entire life is a lie.’

‘you were all I wanted. I dreamed of seeing you again every night.’

‘I do not believe you. because I know you. and you are a liar. a thief.’

‘talk to me. tell me how to fix you.’

‘if you are looking for absolution, you won’t find it from me.’

‘I genuinely believe she wanted better for her people and her city. she just got very, very lost.’

‘I wish I had more time with her. I had so much I wanted to say.’

‘you may have to battle with words and with your very beliefs. but it it worth it. your life is worth it.’

‘your life is worth it. don’t let it be made into fodder for those who will never be in the trenches.’

‘you rip me apart. I was ready to kill you. and then you had to go and do the right thing.’

‘if I could go back … it breaks my heart to think of the different path we might have taken.’

‘you have earned your happy ending. let me do the same.’

‘you don’t get to make me laugh while you’re breaking my heart.’

‘find your happiness. steal it and do not ever let it go.’

‘I am sorry to be such a disappointment.’

‘you say you trust me. so trust me.’

[sicparvismorrigan]

Friendly Fire - Chapter Two: Acting Up

Ellie Thibodeaux holds arguably the worst job in Bridgehead City. She’s not a cook. She’s not even a cleaner. She’s the resident RDA psychiatrist, and her next assignment is helping the formerly deceased Project Phoenix come to terms with being brought back to life as an entirely different species.

Enter Colonel Miles Quaritch, the most reluctant, and most challenging patient she’s ever had the displeasure of treating.

James Cameron’s Avatar - The Way of Water (2022)

Recombinant Quaritch x ofc (currently professional/platonic, enemies/annoyances to friends, could be more & Quaritch x Paz Socorro

Warnings: mild swears

Tagging: @kmc1989 (lmk if you want added to the taglist!)

Read on Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Three

Acting Up

That’s just the Colonel, sweetheart! Try harder next time, m’kay?

Try harder?

Like he wasn’t some impassable brick wall of a man…alien…whatever…that she had absolutely zero common ground with?

Nope. Just try harder.

Sure thing, boss.

Luckily, her other patients were gradually warming up to her. Wainfleet was surprisingly forthcoming, after he figured out that Tibbs wasn’t the only one who liked comic books. Just a big kid with a gun. Absolutely nothing to dissect there.

Zdinarsk had shyly asked for help managing her braid, then invited Ellie to “come hang” with her and the other recoms sometime, whatever that meant.

It was only Quaritch who was being deliberately obtuse.

But Ellie had another problem. She was the talk of Bridgehead. Sure, for the reason that the Colonel was her new patient. And for the bigger issue that somebody had blabbed about her missing arm. Now there were stares and sly sideways looks wherever she went. She couldn’t stand the whispering. It made her mad as all Hell that she was no longer invisible. That everybody knew her by sight and reputation, for her handicap.

I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

The mantra her very own ‘shrink’ had given her as armour. Over and over and over in her head.

Session Two did not get off to a good start. She’d have bet her next paycheque on Quaritch ditching her couch.

In fact, he’d shown up early. She was the one who was late by being on time.

Jeez, she couldn’t stand him. She was going to be extremely unprofessional in 3…2…1…

“Off the record, before we begin-“ Ellie spoke up as she lowered herself into her human-sized chair. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Sure thing, shrink-wrap.”

”Stop-“ She grumbled and rubbed her temples. “Hm. Kindly refrain from calling me that, please.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

Ellie sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

“I’ll save it for special occasions.”

She groaned out loud.

“And bank holidays.”

“You-…” Ellie faltered before regaining her rhythm and setting her mouth in a firm line. “Ugh, whatever.”

Quaritch was looking at her expectantly.

“So-“ She demanded. “Who’d you tell about my arm?!”

“Say what now?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“People have been talking about me behind my back, since our last session.” She complained. “I don’t appreciate that. Not one bit.”

“Hey there-“ He held up a hand to hush her. ”I ain’t said shit about your rusty-ass arm!”

She regarded him suspiciously. His expression was genuine enough. ”Really?”

“Not a word.” The Colonel actually looked offended. “What, you think you’re the first handicap I’ve worked with?”

Of course she wasn’t. There was another.

“You ain’t special.” He huffed. “So you done actin’ up? Or what?”

“Well, somebody said something.” Ellie muttered.

“Good thing I’m not paying for your so-called help, ‘cause so far: not impressed. Un-pro-fess-io-nal.” He emphasised each syllable, making her cower down in embarrassment. “Now, where were we?”

Ellie hated it. Couldn't stand how he just took control over anything she tried to do.

”Oh yeah. That’s right…“ He leaned closer to her, fixing her with an intense stare. “What bit ya?”

”Nuh-uh.” Ellie shook her head. “Not doing it.”

“Come on now, Doc. Holding out on me will get you nowhere. I’m a patient man.”

Now she had him.

Ellie cocked an eyebrow, glancing up from her notebook. ”Man?”

A cheap shot. And it clearly stung like a mother. Fight instincts of both human and alien beast kicked in. Fists clenched and fangs bared before the Colonel could collect himself.

She didn’t so much as blink at his intimidation tactic and once again the room was plunged into silence.

“Hey now. Are you done-“ She spoke calmly, mimicking his tone, letting her lips curl upwards into a smirk. “-acting up?”

”Smart mouth.” He nodded slowly, almost appreciatively. “So tell me, what exactly did you plan on doing next?”

“Next?” She was lost.

“I could give you a disciplinary for your attitude towards a superior officer.” Ellie felt the beads of sweat break out on her forehead, even in the air-conned space. “Easily. But I’m interested to see how this plays out, so I’m gonna let that one slide.”

”Why?” She didn’t understand.

“That was a nice little spark.” He grinned. “Took you long enough. But I want to see if I can get you breathing fire.”

Ellie blinked, taken aback. Did he just green-light her to cuss him out?

It would be plumbing the depths of professional conduct for sure, but they didn’t exactly teach you how to deal with the dead resurrected in medical school.

Quaritch rolled his eyes at her, still gawping at him stupidly.

“Listen. Ardmore isn’t the only one around here who can get you the things you need.” He spelled it out for her. “Or want. So play nice.”

“Huh.” She mulled the thought over. Interesting.

“Talk.” He urged her.

Ellie sighed heavily. He really wasn’t going to drop it. May as well put the elephant in the room out of its misery.

Here we go.

”A former patient attacked me. I wanted to refer him to someone else, and he didn’t take it very well at all.” She explained quietly. ”He choked out my receptionist…then came after me.”

Quaritch nodded, his expression neutral. No shock, but no sympathy, no condolence either. “How’d you get away?”

There was a long pause.

”Barely.” She swallowed the bile back down as she finally answered. Trickle-feed the information.

Make the bond.

“I see.” The Colonel remained stony-faced. “Been there, kid.”

“Uh-huh.”

Not a victim not a victim not a victim.

“Listen, you ain’t the only one here got bit by something you staked your trust in.” Ellie’s head jerked, when Colonel spoke again, he sounded surprisingly gentle. “You just have the mighty fine privilege of still being alive in the traditional sense.”

“For the record-“ She admitted “-I spoke out against bringing you back, Quaritch.”

Hoo boy, that might sting too.

“That’s cold, girly.” The snarl was lingering around the corners of his mouth again, fangs glinting with every word. “You wanted me to stay dead, huh?”

“No rest for the wicked.” She answered dryly. “But maybe you deserve that.”

“Pretty sure the entire Na’vi population would agree with you there.” He nodded. “But a philosophiser you ain’t, you’re one of them other p-words that get paid a lot more.”

Ellie frowned, unsure if he was strategically calling her other bad names in lieu of shrink-wrap.

“Project Phoenix is unethical. But since there is no moral legislation for Pandoran natives, or recombinants, my hands are tied. I’ve been told to treat you, so I have to.” It was her turn to spell things out. “But, I’m not sure how much I can help someone who so clearly doesn’t want it.”

”True.” He agreed. “So then just give up.”

“No!” Ellie fired back. “What part don’t you get about I have to?”

“If you’re so convinced I’m beyond saving, Doc-“ He spread his hands out wide for emphasis “-why even bother? Throw in the towel.”

“I’ve been given this assignment by Ardmore.” “I need to see it through.” She insisted. “Even if you don’t get anything out of this…at least I tried.”

“Oh, I’m getting plenty.” The Colonel nodded. “But no job’s worth wasting your life on.”

”That what you tell your troops?” Project Phoenix was potentially a suicide mission.

“They know what’s at stake. And as for you…you ain’t got my respect, yet.” Quaritch smiled grimly. “But you have my attention, for now.”

“Maybe that’s enough.” Ellie suggested. “For us to work together.”

“Symbiosis.” He nodded. “I like a project.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose in indignation. He was supposed to be her project.

“My men tell me you’re alright.” Quaritch mentioned abruptly. “‘Tibbs ain’t as bad as the other science pukes’, that’s what they said.”

“Did they now?” Ellie’s interest was piqued.

“Where I’m from, that’s a hefty compliment.” He cocked his head, ears pricking up. “I heard Z offered you an invitation.”

“She did.”

”I also heard you ain’t taken her up on it yet.”Quaritch tutted and gave her a stern look that made her want to disappear down into her own boots, like a child being scolded. “Bad manners.”

“I, uh-…“ The scientists didn’t socialise with the recom soldiers. It wasn’t a hard-and-fast rule, but it might as well be.

“You’d do well to accept that offer, while it lasts.” He warned her. “Or I’ll go back to callin’ ya shrink-wrap.”

”I’ll think about it, Colonel.” Ellie offered a small smile.

“Good.” Finally, he seemed pleased about something. “Be seein’ ya then, kiddo.”

After he left, she sat for a long time, trying to analyse their session so she could write her report. Trying to analyse him.

Quaritch wasn’t the only one holding one Hell of a grudge. Who would stop at nothing for vengeance against those who had crossed them.

She understood. Because they were the same.

Ellie would have given another of her limbs to avenge the one she’d lost. To make the bastard that took her arm, and very nearly her life, suffer beyond belief.

She and the Colonel had more in common than either of them were willing to admit.

***

Thanks for reading!

[jellybeanium124]

TUA 4x05 reaction

I'm sorry... are lila and five gonna be stuck on the subway for six years five months and two days... jesus. if I had a nickel for every time five got stuck somewhere hellish I'd have two nickels which isn't a lot and frankly it's not that weird that it happened twice

lila is gonna want nothing more than normal after this

fuck... 6 years without a shower or toilet coz there ain't either of those on the subway. icky. well. five's done it before.

imagine telling early season 2 five that he'd eventually be stuck on a magic subway with lila for six years. imagine telling early season 2 lila.

they are gonna be weirdly codependent after this

klaus. burn the coffin. dig up thru the dirt. light that shit on fire. worst comes to worst and you die and come back

this season's also been way more gore intense than any of the others, methinks

if five and lila kiss I'm gonna release the wasps

they keep calling the umbrellas kids even tho ben, the youngest, is canonically 35. 35!! and gene and jean and sy keep calling him a boy. he is in his 30s. diego, 4 months older than him, has 3 fucking kids. bruh

ghost dog!! sure!! lmao

claire sees her mom be a badass for the first time :o I love that trope when a kid sees their parent being a total badass for the first time and it completely upturns their worldview lol

diego meeting a walking object lesson is ok. because sometimes people need to meet a walking object lesson sabhdjf

DIEGO LEARNED PUNJABI 😭😭😭 BRUHH...

man I want that cable knit sweater five is wearing

I stg if lila/five becomes a thing I'M gonna be the one vomiting bc what the hell

that is NOT the kind of enemies-to-lovers I want 😭

I literally said "stop" out loud

hey guys would it make me a horrible person if I would've prefered major character death

why was there so much kissing

ELEVATOR FIGHT ELEVATOR FIGHT!!

rip funny elevator fight. anyways get those bitches, luther

WHY DID LUTHER HAVE TEAR-AWAY PANTS 😭😂

luther only owns tear-away suits. for stripping. I love him. anyone who hated luther ever is wrong

the entire season everyone is fatshaming diego for having a straight up not-even-visible tummy. then his shirt comes off and he has a six pack. bruh.

ritu and aidan are screaming for help. obviously. I am looking at them and someone needs to help. who decided that five and lila should lose focus and have a consensual workplace relationship

I'm barely fuckin joking adain and ritu were clearly having the time of their lives together in s2 and s3 but adain is delivering his lines like he wishes he was doing literally anything else

oh jesus five, don't electrocute yourself on the track

ive. you gotta tell lila about the book you found from yourself left for you. dude. for the love of fuck.

why is five talking like lila owes him?? you really are acting your age, old man. she doesn't owe you shit just coz you held her when she was sad

reg is literally buttering viktor up just like he did with klaus last season

jennifer disappeared??

nope nevermind

OH FUCK. SY IS AN ALIEN. LIKE REG. SAME ALIEN. SHIIIIT

HE'S ABGAIL?!?!?!

oh my gd so sy was a real guy who abagail killed and scooped out to wear as a skin suit. so that's why "sy" had the marigold.

[awakandanavenger]

All Stitched Up (Shuri x reader) (Okoye x platonic!reader)

After you get injured on a mission with Okoye, Ayo, and Aneka, you need stitches but you are too terrified and stubborn to go straight to your girlfriend to get them done. It's up to Okoye to get you to Shuri and get you stitched up before you bleed out. Will you get those stitches done or are you too stubborn and bleed out?

Warnings - mentions of needles, wounds but nothing too graphic, incorrect medical stuff I think, not proofread, let me know if I missed any

Word Count - 1.2K 

I stepped out of the Royal Talon Fighter jet trying to hide my limp. Luckily, Shuri was too busy this time to be able to come greet after a long mission. I knew Okoye, Ayo, and Aneka were glaring at me as I walked slowly to the room I shared with my girlfriend. They knew the injuries I managed to get on our mission and kept saying I needed to get stitches on my stomach because of a rather deep gash. There's nothing embedded into the gash luckily, it's just deep. I'd rather keep applying pressure on it to stop it bleeding even more when I got back to my room. Hopefully the blood stays hidden until I got back.

Thankfully, the blood did stay hidden and I was able to get back to the bedroom. Straight away, I head into the bathroom and begin to reapply the pressure on my wound. Let's just hope this stops bleeding soon. Then I can start getting some cream or something to heal it. I still refuse to go to Shuri and get stitches.

A knock sounded at my door. I knew it was Okoye. "Y/n?" "In here." And she walks into the bathroom to find me lay on the ground. "Bast. You desperately need to get those stitches or you'll bleed to death!" I just shrugged in response. It's not that serious surely and no way am I in denial about the whole thing. "I'm not going to bleed out Okoye. It'll stop soon if I keep applying pressure to it." "You've been applying pressure to that wound since we were on the jet. You need stitches now. Please don't force my hand y/n." I raised my eyebrow. She wouldn't. Surely. "Last thing Wakanda needs is a grieving princess which is exactly what she will be if you don't get those stitches." She continued. I just folded my arms in response. There was no way in hell I was having needles being poked into my body.

At first, I thought Okoye had given up trying as she left the room but it was momentarily. She came back with Ayo and Aneka. Shit. I stood up ready to fight them. My wound was not bad enough to need stitches. I didn't care how painful this was. "Do what you will. I'm not going." I said putting up my fists. All three of them just looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I went to punch them to try and get passed them. I didn't care who but as soon as I tried to punch, the pain in my stomach increased and I fell to the ground.

"Honestly y/n, you're your own worst enemy sometimes." Okoye said as she put me on a stretcher I didn't even know they had. How did I miss that? Fine. They can take me to Shuri but I guarantee as soon as I see those needles, I'll be out of there faster than she can stick them into me. I just made it look like I was complying to Okoye's wishes by letting them carry me in that stretcher to the lab. Oh man the pain was really kicking in now. Probably adrenaline wearing off a little. I still refuse to get needles though.

///

Once in the lab, Okoye with Aneka's help lifted me onto a bed in the lab. Well, hospital bed should I add. Ugh, this sucks. "What happened?" I heard Shuri ask Okoye, Aneka and Ayo. "She got a nasty gash on her stomach and she needs stitches but she's too stubborn for her own good and is refusing to get them done. If she doesn't get them soon she'll bleed out." Shuri rushed to get those stupid needles. When she was on her way back that was it. I'd had it. I was out of there.

I went to get up from the bed but was pulled back down. "What the hell Aneka! Let me go!" I yell. "Not a chance y/n." She said. Her words did not stop me from fighting her off me. Just as I escaped her grip, I felt another person pulling me back down. It was Ayo this time. "Fuck off, I am not having any needles!" I continued yelling. "I see this is going to take all three of us to hold her down to let Shuri do what she needs to do."

It was my worst nightmare. Okoye was holding me down by the shoulders, Aneka held me down by the legs and Ayo had lifted up my shirt to where the wound was keeping me from writhing around. "Fuck all of you!" I continued yelling. Then I felt a sharp pain on the wound and I cried out. "Ah, what the fuck?" I tried fighting all three of them off but it was no use. "Keep her still." Shuri said to them and their grip on me tightened and I screamed the whole time.

I was still screaming even after Shuri was finished because it hurt that much I wasn't paying attention to if she had finished or not. Not until Shuri spoke. "It's done y/n. Okoye, take her to our room, she's on bedrest until that wound is completely healed. I don't want her walking there in case she accidentally reopens those stitches." Before I could react, Okoye lifted me up and carried me back to mine and Shuri's room.

"Honestly y/n. You have to make these things harder than they have to be. You're a warrior that's afraid of needles?" She said amused and I just glared at her in response. "I hate all of you." I said folding my arms grumpily. "Yeah, you'll be thanking us when you're all better. Especially Shuri." "Whatever." I said and yawned. I then felt being placed on the bed and the blankets being pulled over me. "Just get some rest. You clearly need it." Okoye said and she walked out the room and the next thing I knew sleep consumed me.

///

When I woke, Shuri was sat in the bed next to me. I felt a coldness on my stomach and realised it was her hand. "What are you doing?" I asked her. "Checking your wound is healing and the stitches haven't come out. So far it seems okay." "How long have I been asleep?" "The whole day and night." My eyes widen. "Why didn't anyone wake me? I'm supposed to be training for missions!" "Oh no. I already told you you're on bed rest until that wound is completely healed. If you reopen those stitches, that'll mean more needles and I know how much you hate them." Shuri said kissing my temple and I huff in response. "Quit sulking. It's not so bad. I'll be taking time out of the lab to help you get better." I perked up at that. "You are?" She nods. "Yep. And we can do anything you want to do as long as it doesn't involve you getting up unless you need the bathroom." I sighed. "In that case, can I have some water and we can watch movies and cuddle."

Shuri got a small glass from the bathroom and poured me some water which was heavenly to drink. Didn't even realise how thirsty I was. "Okay, what movie do you want to start with? And do you want any snacks?" "No, I'm not hungry surprisingly. I just want to watch (favourite movie) and cuddle up." And that's exactly what we did and at some point during the movie, I fell asleep with my head leaning against Shuri's chest. Well, if this is how I am to spend bed rest, who am I to complain?  

Ending this one here. What did you all think? Sorry for any incorrect medical stuff, I’m an environmental science student not medical :’) Anyways, leave a like and you can request other BP2 characters. I take requests for not only Shuri, but also, Riri, Okoye, Nakia and Ramonda. Hope to see your requests soon! :)

[s1ckh1mb0]

Hiii💕💕💕 Could you please make some hc or a scenario where white death's s/o is a mafia boss like him but in a much much larger organisation and he gets kidnapped by her enemy and she has to go there and save him but like he doesn't know about this part of her life so this is like a surprise to him.

Also, thank you for responding to my requests and Merry Christmas 💕💕💗❤

TW- one part is like sorta gorey😭

It didn’t take a long time for you at all to get news of Roshan’s kidnapping. And boy were you pissed. It had been almost 20 years since you had to show your face when it came to the gang life. You threw a fit and quite honestly no one knew what to do. No one actually told you since they figured he could take care of it but you happened to hear them whispering and the first thing that came to mind was the worst.

When sudden slamming and thuds came from your room everyone ran to check on you only to find you dressed in a similar outfit your husband wore when he did his own slayings, your face covered by a mask. Now this drawn confusion from all of them as you pushed past them. They almost didn’t even recognize you. Everyone begging you to sit down and explain he was fine. Nothing they said was going to deter you from your husband.

Roshan was locked in a heavily padded room as they knew exactly he was capable of and didn’t want to underestimate him at all. In total there were 6 people guarding him, taunting his beaten form. They definitely did damage to him, a broke nose and fractured jaw had to be the worst of it. They were cut off by a thump. They grew quiet when they seen their superiors head roll into the room. The eerie silence turned turned to loud sounds of gunfire. The room filled with bullets and most barely had any time to react. All but 1 body had dropped to the floor and even Roshan was shocked. They had no clue who the hell was suddenly coming after them.

When you stepped into the room the last person backed away. He yolked Roshan up off the ground by his hair making him groan. He painted his gun right at the side of his head “I’ll blow his fucking brains out if you come.” You stopped but that did nothing because he wasn’t expecting the sudden switchblade to come flying at his eye. He screamed in pain and dropped to his knees. You walked over to him yanking the blade out his eye, slicing his throat to not have to deal with his annoying voice any longer. Ignoring the sounds of the man gargling you turned to Roshan who was screaming at you in Russian. You took a few steps befor taking off your mask.

“Roshan shut up please, it’s me.”

“..the fuck?! You- what?!”

“Yeah listen it’s a lot to explain-.”

“Well start explaining cause I’m growing iffy about this.”

After you explained how you grew up in the mafia, your father being heavily respected but also wanted. That was the reason you were hidden from everyone including you guys family. You ran the organization in secret to keep your life safe.

“God you’re even worse than I am.”

“I guess, sort of.”

“I fucking love you.”

[astrronomemes]

PINK: MISUNDERSTOOD STARTERS (PART I)

a collection of lyrics from Pink's Misunderstood album. change & alter as needed.

"I might be the way everybody likes to say."

"I know what you're thinking about me."

"Everything I want, I always do."

"Well, I'm happy, and I'm sad, but everything's good."

"It's not that complicated."

"I'm just misunderstood."

"I just might say goodbye."

"I'm really proud of all the things I used to do."

"I was taken for granted, but it's all good."

"I never win first place."

"My parents hated me."

"I can't do nothing right."

"Every day, I fight a war against the mirror. I can't take the person staring back at me."

"I'm a hazard to myself."

"I'm my own worst enemy."

"It's bad when you annoy yourself."

"I want to be somebody else."

"All you have to change is everything you are."

"She's so pretty. That just ain't me."

"Won't you please prescribe me something?"

"I think I took too much."

"What have you done?"

"I thought it would be fun."

"I think I'll get out of here."

"You're just like a pill. Instead of making me better, you keep making me ill."

"I haven't moved from the spot where you left me."

"This must be a bad trip."

"Maybe I should get some help."

"Everybody is waiting for me to arrive."

"I can go for miles, if you know what I mean."

"I'll be burning rubber. You'll be kissing my ass."

"Everybody's dancing, and they're dancing for me."

"I get really sick and tired of boys up in my face."

"Pick-up lines like what's your sign? won't get you anyplace."

"So, Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?"

"Nothing good comes for free."

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall... damn, I sure look fine."

"I can't blame those horny boys. I would make me mine."

"Back up, boy, I ain't your toy, or your piece of ass."

"Give it up. He won't call you."

"Respect is just the minimum. Go on, girl, and get you some."

"You can't keep me down."

"Hey, hey, man, what's your problem?"

"You don't know what you're up against."

"Maybe you should reconsider, come up with another plan."

"You know I'm not that kind of girl."

"You can push me out the window. I'll just get back up."

"Are you ready for today?"

"You are beautiful, even though you're not for sure."

"You're gonna get your feelings hurt."

"I am only this way because of what you have made me."

"I'm not gonna break."

"[Name], please, stop crying. I can't stand the sound."

"Your pain is painful, and it's tearing me down."

"I told [name] you didn't mean those nasty things you said."

"I don't want love to destroy me like it has done my family."

"Can't we work it out?"

"Can't we be a family?"

"I promise I'll be better."

"[Name], please, stop yelling. I can't stand the sound."

"I don't want to have to split the holidays, I don't want two addresses, I don't want a stepbrother anyways, and I don't want my mom to have to change her last name."

"In our family portrait, we look pretty happy. We look pretty normal. Let's go back to that."

"[Name], don't leave! Turn around, please!"

"The night you left, you took my shining star."

"Don't leave us here alone."

"I'll be so much better! I'll do everything right!"

[thiefbird]

Ok now I’ve seen your glorious Aubrey/ Maturin fic I am desperate to send you a Laurence/ Tharkay prompt. How about one of the dramatic dialogue prompts, whichever catches your fancy?

Or if that doesn’t appeal, Laurence/ Granby and one of the enemies to lovers prompts?

Oooooh... For a dramatic dialogue Laurence/Tharkay I think I'm gonna go with "Do not touch me!" I couldn't bring myself to make it a full-blown fight, so have some lovely post-war hurt-comfort. Title from Hozier's Uiscefhuaraithe because I am too tired to think of a better one, and I might as well stick to my guns <3

Things That No-One Teaches (on ao3)

Tharkay resented, more than any other sequelae from his mistreatment during the long years of war, the nightmares that remained a torment: dark caves and isolation and pain, and then numbing, bone-aching cold. During the day, he could maintain a distance from the horrors he'd witnessed - indeed, his experiences in China and Russia were hardly the worst thing he'd seen in the last ten years - but his unconscious mind was far from sanguine and had a tendency to dwell that he found himself not wholly surprised by.

He was accustomed to nightmares, yes, but these were no ordinary nightmares, easily dismissed with a lit candle and perhaps a cup of tea; he woke, night after night, his heart pounding in his chest, uncertain in the dark of the room where he might be, suppressing an unconscious cry of horror, and entirely unable to calm himself.

He had hoped, after their first night, as promising as it was, that Will's presence would be enough to continue to deter them. But the very next night, he had been shocked awake by his own mind once more, a scream in his throat-

A hand gripping his-

"Do not touch me!" Tharkay hissed, shoving the shadowed figure away from him in the split second before he recognised Will's touch, always so gentle despite the years of callouses that roughened the skin of his fingers and palm. "I- I do apologise, Will- you are not hurt?"

"No, no, Tenzing, I am well. Only-" Will paused, and as Tharkay's eyes adapted to the light he could see the awkward manner in which he held himself, knocked back on his elbows by the force of Tharkay's push. "You were crying."

Tharkay bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. "It is nothing, Will - go back to sleep." He made to rise, his back now to Will, and Will lurched forward in an abortive motion, as if to stop him before remembering his command.

"Tenzing- wait a moment, please. Let me come with you; you are shaking rather badly."

He was, too, he noticed with no small amount of shame, his hand trembling even as it clutched at the bedpost behind him. "I would rather you not; it is very late, and I should not like to disturb the sleep of anyone else." He should have rather not disturbed Will's sleep, either, but at the very least he could allow him to return to it; there were other places he could doze for a few hours, excuses that could be made to keep Will from staying further nights.

Will made a strange sound in the back of his throat. "Obstinate man," Tharkay thought he heard him say. The bed creaked, and he felt the sudden warmth of bare skin near his own. "May I, my dear?" Will asked, his voice low and gentle, and- He so rarely asked for anything that Tharkay nodded before he was aware he had made the decision.

The first jolt of sensation - the wiry coarseness of chest hair against his back, the soft warmth of strong arms gently wrapping around him - made him flinch, but the familiar scent of Will did an admirable job of steadying his mind, and he quickly found himself sagging back into the embrace. "Is it too cold?" Will asked once Tharkay's breathing had slowed to a more usual pace. "I could light a fire."

Tharkay let his head loll back against Will's shoulder, fatigue overtaking him as the mortal terror faded. "You are plenty warm, Will, do not stir," he said, pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the corner of Will's jaw.

Will hummed, the sound reverberating through Tharkay's chest, and shifted them back and around till they lay on their sides, Tharkay's back still pressed to Will's front. "Only if you will not, dearest," he said, his voice roughened with the same sleep that was washing over Tharkay.

[makutaservaela]

The (Continued) Mutran Chronicles

Vican has obtained pieces of Mutran's continued Chronicles after the Makuta's revival, and he's decided to share them with us.

------------

I would rather not go into the horrifying details (horrifying even to my standards) but I would like to record my journey, and remember the reason that the Brotherhood no longer stands as united as before, under one leader, in one home. 

I remember the energy storm blasting from the Codrex. I was very curious of it, unlike my brothers. They were too busy tearing at each other’s throats to stare the raw and brilliant power in the eye, or stare at their own demise, if that would be a better term for the storms. I remember the light, the shock, the scream, but no pain. I remember how it was blinding light, and then comforting dark. I never really understood what had happened. I had died. I had ceased to exist. I hardly remember what it felt like, truly being nothing at all. 

The next thing I knew, my eyes were open. I was in a room beside my brothers, all of them sharing my own gaze of confusion.

I remember the shock and silence of my brothers as we stared at each other. Suddenly, they were gone, vanished from my sight in an instant. I watched as the walls of the room that I was in sink around me. There was a blinding light, which soon faded into a rotten landscape. It was after this that the true Karzahni began. 

I think it was at least a thousand years I spent in that desolate wasteland, or mighty jungle, or wherever else I woke after my many, many deaths.  

I was on my 387th horrifically slow and painful death, an hour-long suffocation I believe, when things finally changed. Whatever the strange creature was, it was smiling as it had its disgusting paws clamped on my throat. My lungs were on fire and I had no powers, nothing to stop it, anymore than I could have stopped the other 386 excruciating deaths. My vision was growing blurry, and I wondered which terrible place I would wake up next. I ended up waking in the most horrible place of all: 

The base of the Brotherhood’s worst enemies. 

I awoke on an operating table, my limbs tied down and several tubes attached to my body in different locations. A few large beings surrounded me. It was a blue Toa that finally approached me. 

“Welcome back, Mutran.” She said to me dryly. 

“It is Makuta Mutran, to you!” I snarled, unable to think of anything else to say. I always have a habit of growing uselessly angered and saying stupid things when I am forcibly immobile. The one thing that I am jealous of Chirox is that obnoxious wit. Chirox would have, and most likely had, said something sarcastic and rudely humorous.  

“Actually, it is nothing to me.” The female replied. I do not like it much when other beings are disrespectful to me. That always means that they do not fear me. 

“I demand to be unhanded at once.” I ordered. 

She glared “I assume you have learned nothing of your punishment? Perhaps you should be sentenced to the amount of revivals your brother Antroz had: 890.” 

I bit my tongue. I was still enraged at this creature, and curious to my fellow Makuta’s locations, but I was shocked when I realized that this Toa had something to do with my past millennia. 

“Do you know how long you have been dying, Mutran?” The Toa asked, although she spoke as if she already knew the answer. 

I did not respond, but she knew that I counted the days the best I could. 

“Ten minutes.” She grunted. 

“That’s impossible.” I exclaimed. 

“Not with our new technology. You liked it, didn’t you?” She chuckled. “Dream Therapy. We can do whatever we want to you, punish you as much as we would like, kill you as many times as you deserve, and cause no harm to you and waste none of our own time. We can make sure that this dream stays in your memory forever, and even for you to get nightmares about it in your further sleep. It is odd that Makuta have not come up with this idea before we have. It is the perfect punishment.” 

“Where are the others?” I asked, trying not to think of the dream. 

“While your dream has only lasted ten minutes, we have kept you in a comatose for quite some time. The others are already mingling with the Matoran, Toa, and a few others on an Island. ‘New Metru’ I believe it’s called.” The Toa answered. 

“I am assuming my brethren are good and innocent now?” 

The Toa shook her head. “The Makuta are still quite dangerous, but you and your kind are banned from forming a brotherhood again. Therefore, the other Makuta seem to be more interested in doing their own things. Perhaps you will follow suit?” 

“Unlikely.” I grunted. 

“We will let you decide your own future for yourself.” The Toa said matter-of-factly. “Due to your intellect, you may not be returned directly to the others. We will place you in a ‘cell’ of a sort. You shall remain there with a companion assigned to you under our watchful eye, until we deem you ready to meet your old brethren. As with your brothers, a virus has been placed inside you that will grow at least a slight sense of compassion and mercy in your mind. You will also be given anything you need to survive, including food, as your new sustaining body will require. You are banned from harming your companion, escaping before your due time, attempting to kill yourself, or coming up with anymore ‘world taking-over’ plans during your imprisonment. Failure to abide by the rules will result in another round of the Order’s specified punishment, in state, Dream Therapy. Is this understood?” 

I grunted in response. 

“Very well.” Continued the Toa, speaking as if this were the sixth time she used this order. 

I do not remember quite what happened after the Toa spoke to me, but the splitting headache I had upon awakening told me that I must have been knocked unconscious. I awoke in a simple flaxen bed, not unlike the ones used on Destral. I was in a bare room with no adornments around. I remember feeling innocently curious and naked for the first time in a long time. I spent several minutes, possibly an hour, examining my new bio-organic exoskeletal body. It felt strange, I must admit. I remember slicing into my arms and watching, not essence, but living blood spill out. I also remember losing consciousness for a bit after that. I once again awoke a few minutes later with tight bandages wrapped around my aching arms. I also found, to my annoyance and discomfort, that my claws had been filed down. 

The next thing that annoyed me was an aching and cramped feeling in my abdomen. I could not remember such a feeling, and attempted to observe my abdomen for reasons of such discomfort, but to no prevail. I decided to ignore the feeling and observe the rest of my new prison. 

A metal door stood in one corner of my room. I assumed that it would be locked, but to my shock, it was not. The room alone was not my prison. Another door, a bit shorter than mine, stood across from mine. To the left was a blank stone wall, and to the right was a hallway. I decided to see the contents of the other room before exploring off. I had to bend over quite far in order to enter the room, which may not have been necessary if I had shape-shifted. Unfortunately, I seemed no longer in possession of the ability to do so, anymore than I could harness about thirty of my other forty-two powers.  

The inside of the room was just as bare as mine was, but the bed was a bit smaller and the roof was lower. I exited the room and turned down the hallway, walking rather slowly. I would have moved faster, for I was eager to learn of my new inhabitance, but I was feeling rather weak physically. The painful cramp persisted in my abdomen as well, as did a cramped feeling in my wings and my shoulders. 

I came to the end of the hallway to enter a large room. Much of it was lined with shelves full of vials of viruses and concoctions, strange objects made of a flimsy nature that I was later informed were referred to as “books”, and to one side of the room was a large vat. 

As interested as I was on lab work, I was still annoyed by the growing pain in my abdomen, so I looked around the room for something to vanquish it. I found several rooms that left off of the main lab. Across from where my quarters stood, was a large, thick metal door. I assumed that this was the gate to my prison, and at a much later time, I found that this assumption had been correct. I looked around the other rooms in the building, leading from the lab. One was a strange room with a silver tiled floor. It had an odd empty vat in it, with a faucet hanging from the ceiling. Beside the vat, was a small bowl contraption. The bowl was filled about halfway with water, and it carried an odd scent. 

Beside this room, was one with a very tall ceiling. It had ledges and cliffs carved into the wall, as well as hanging nets and wooden objects hanging on ropes from the top of the room. The floor was littered with large fabric-covered objects, as well as a few plants. I left this room, not understanding its purpose from the first glance at all. Across from this room was another, one that’s walls were lined with shelves and cabinets. In the middle of the room was a table with two chairs, and seated at one of these chairs was a being that I had never thought I would see again. Nor did I want to. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” The green and black Matoran called to me. His clawed feet were resting on the table, and he had a book in his hand. 

“I thought you were dead, Matoran.” I grunted to Vican, “Or at least, not a Shadow Matoran anymore.” 

“Yeah, I talked to your guys about it. So did Radiak, Kirop, and Gavla. We wanted to be Shadow Matoran again.” 

“And why in Mata Nui’s name would you want that?” I questioned. 

“Well, Gavla was on to something I guess.” Vican admitted, “Being a normal Matoran was okay. Following a set pattern that every Matoran before or after you does as well. Walking in footsteps that everyone else walked in. It was safe. It was secure. It was what we were made for. Then, you and your Shadow Leeches destroyed that. The creatures we became destroyed those footsteps and carved out our own wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We cared for nothing. We didn’t stare at our brothers and try to be just like them anymore. We laughed at our brothers, the normal Matoran, and called them mindless drones. Of course, we were afraid after our initial transformation, and we were so busy trying to figure out how to get rid of it, that we never embraced it. I found myself, time and time again, wandering out into the woods more and more. Kirop, Gavla, Radiak, I found that they all thought the same way I did. We needed to get out more and more, we needed to get away from the other Matoran. We could barely stand that droning, repetitive work anymore. We could hardly stand the way the other Matoran barely cast eachother a second glance. The Toa, they noticed. They tried to get us to stop leaving the villages, but that just made us want to run away more. It wasn’t all about Unity, Duty, or Destiny anymore. It was something more...” He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He rested his book on the table and leaned back.

“That’s when we found out that the Makuta had returned. Of course, we were skeptical. We wanted to be free, but not villains. I already felt bad enough, knowing that I had willingly worked for the bad guys. 

 It was Gavla who began to study them. One day, she was out watching them, and Vamprah caught her. He questioned her, but he could see the want in her eyes. The next day, I awoke from my hovel to cries of shock. I stepped outside to see the crowd in the streets. In the center of that crowd, drawing all of the attention, was Gavla herself, baring black and blue armour, bat-like wings, fangs, and claws. 

 ‘Vican, look! They’re not evil! They want to help us!’ She cried. All of the other Matoran looked to her in disgust. They spat at her, called her a traitor, but she was not fazed. She didn’t pay any attention to them. Her eyes were planted on mine, and her hand was outstretched to me. I walked through the crowd, the cries of the Matoran fading away to me. I was returning to my true calling.” 

He sat back, resting his head back, “I’ve been a Shadow Matoran ever since. I must say, I love it. I’m not evil. I don’t hurt the Matoran, and neither do the Makuta. On purpose, anyway. There’s no ‘evil brotherhood’ or ‘plan to destroy the world’ anymore. Just raw, free, animalistic power.” 

“I see.” I grunted. I could not believe that I had actually paid attention to that Matoran’s story. I thought I had not, but every time I think back on it, I can remember every word. 

“Well then, as you have explained your return, we must now waste time no further. Get to the lab and-” 

Vican held up a hand, assumingly attempting to cut me off. I ignored it and continued to speak, “make sure that everything is ready and-” Vican shot a shadow bolt at me. I hissed and drew back a clawed hand to strike him, but he stood and held out his hand, mechanically quoting the Toa of water’s words, “You are banned from harming your companion, escaping before your due time, attempting to kill yourself, or coming up with anymore ‘world taking-over’ plans during your imprisonment. Failure to abide by the rules will result in- well, you know the rest.” 

“You are my companion?” I grunted in disgust. 

“Yep!” He chirped, rather excitedly. He held out a closed fist, but I knew not how to retaliate. 

“Fist to fist. It's a Matoran greeting.” He told me in a rather sarcastic tone. 

“I will use no Matoran greetings.” I replied. 

“Whatever.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“As long as you are imprisoned with me, you shall treat me with respect.” I snarled. 

Vican laughed, “I’m not imprisoned with you, and I can treat you however I like. If-what ever put us in here- thinks that you are being too hostile to me, they told me they’d remove me and return you to your punishment. I’m not here to serve you, Mutran. You opened my eyes to freethinking, even if I did have to serve you. Now, I’m going to open your eyes to friendship.” 

“I do not require friendship.” I retorted, “Furthermore, you stupid Matoran know nothing about the ways and mentality of Makuta. How do you expect to teach me?” 

The Matoran held up his book. “This here is a basic guide to the physical needs and requirements of Makuta, as written by one of the first sapient ones, apparently. According to this book, Makuta require to be able to be in the general hearing distance of at least one other Makuta in their leisurely times, or their psyche can be damaged.” 

“Then why am I here with you, Matoran?” I questioned, annoyed at the Order’s flaw. 

“First of all, I’m the closest thing to Makuta that you are going to get. Shadow Matoran grant a similar effect to Makuta- and have a similar need. Second of all, I think we all kinda need your psyche damaged a bit.” He chuckled. I did not like the show of disrespect, but I was to live with it. 

Our conversation was interrupted by an odd growling noise. I had not been made formerly aware that we would be sharing our prison with a third being. I looked around in shock, but saw nothing else. Whatever it was that had snarled was quietly and carefully watching us. 

“What’s up?” Vican asked, confused. 

“What else is here with us?” I questioned. 

“It’s just me and you.” He replied. 

“I heard a growl. Something else is here.” 

Vican chuckled. “Stop for a moment, my newly living friend. How do you currently feel?” 

I stopped and thought back on my own body. My abdomen was still aching immensely, and I felt rather physically weak. The bandages wrapped around my arms caused a strange uncomfortable feeling to my forearms, and my joints still ached. I shared the information of my maladies with the Shadow Matoran. 

“Well, first of all, let’s deal with that feeling in your forearms, shall we?” Vican reached to my arms and pulled the bandages off. My arms were covered in ugly looking scars.  

“My armour heals itself?” I asked, startled. Vican nodded and, seeing my own temporarily uselessly short claws, he began to lightly scratch my forearms. 

“Your body is alive now.” He explained to me. “I was told that you would not be used to that. It’s no wonder that you liked killing things; you couldn’t empathize with their life. Anyway, you’ve got nerves and, as you have already seen, blood now.” 

As he began to scratch my forearms where the bandages had been, the discomfort dissipated.  

“Nerves get irritated, and when they do, they itch. Scratching them lightly usually fixes that.” I could see a humour in his eyes as he talked. He thought that this was funny.  

“That aching in your abdomen is hunger. I guess you haven’t felt that in a while either.” He went on. He walked to one of the cabinets and pulled out an indiscernible red object.

“Don’t feel bad, because this one is new to me too. We can’t just absorb energy anymore, even Matoran were changed there. There isn’t a Mata Nui to make energy for us anymore, so our bodies have all been fixed to make our own energy. You do that by putting things like this meat in your mouth and chewing it and swallowing it.” 

I grunted. I wished not to partake in such a disgusting action. Despite my disgust, the feeling in my abdomen was persistent. Hesitantly, I took the slab of meat and put it in my mouth. It had a rather delicious taste. As soon as I had finished ingesting it, some of the pain in my abdomen lessened. I also felt some of my strength return to me. 

“You’re a big fella, so I guess you’d still be hungry.” Vican noted. He fetched some more meat for me, and I all but swallowed it as soon as I got my hands on it. 

After the meal, I was feeling much better. The pain in my abdomen was gone, and I felt much more energy. However, my joints were still aching. After I told Vican, he led me to the large room with the high ceiling. 

“Problem number three of being alive: You need exercise.” Vican told me. “Do whatever you want in here. Fly around, play on the nets and ropes and ledges. Go wild.” 

“I do not ‘go wild’. Nor do I ‘play’.” I snarled. Vican shrugged and flew off into the room. He hung on one of the hanging nets and began to swing around, obviously entertained. I decided to stretch my wings and fly around, but I refused to entertain myself in the fashion that Vican was doing so.

I decided to leave the room after the quick flight and check out the lab. It was filled with many Viruses, and even some I had never seen before. Unfortunately, they were all rather weak viruses, and nothing that I could use to make any dangerous Rahi.  

By the time my Makuta brothers had arrived to pick me up, quite a long time later, I was much more accustomed to living. I had learned also of my need to sleep, found an odd urge to make a nest in the exercise room, learned how to groom myself in the vat in the smaller room (I had learned that the room was called a “Bathroom” and that the vat was called a “Bathtub”). This became necessary after I found that my new body does something called “sweat”, which can cause a powerful odor. I also learned how to expel waste into the strange bowl-like object in there, which Vican had referred to as a “Toilet”. 

It has been quite some time since that day I woke up in that prison, and I have gotten quite used to my living form. I learned that the fresher meat is, the tastier and more filling it is. I have also learned how to tease my prey before killing it, for the fear scent administered by hunted prey is quite strengthening (However, frightening an animal too much causes it to soil itself, the scent of which ruins the meat!) I believe we are meant to be strengthened by this fear scent to help us gain a quick burst of energy in order to down prey. 

Since the day I was put in that prison, I learned of many other physical and emotional feelings not before crossing my mind. Time that I am not spending resting, eating, or exercising, is spent acting in social behavior with my fellow Makuta, something I would have never done before.

I have said long before, but I never truly understood the sentiment until now-

It is good to be alive.

[cyborg-franky]

Haii franky

I hope your emergency requests are open

I would like to request a fic that you would like make it of your favorite character and make them do and say stuff that would help you as I know you have been feeling a bit on the rougher side and I can't do much but I just want you to know most of your followers love you and appreciate you and hope your ok or will be OK keep being you and I hope you get to feeling better ^^

They are closed but this is amazing, when I first got this I cried, I am fine though, I'm always fine but maybe I should write something for me, just in case I'm not doing so good.

Thank you anon, this is so sweet. Thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

Marco

He can tell you're having a rough time, and that things are hard for you right now.

Marco watches you stuff it all inside, pushing it all down and just smiling and saying I’m fine! When asked how you are doing.

He knows, he sees you when you're working across from him, how sad you really seem as you just stare at your work, not really doing it, just doodling off in the corner.

He can tell you don’t want to be a burden or to bother anyone.

When your work is over for the night and you both can relax, he locks the door and starts to make tea for you both.

He watches you curl up in the big armchair he keeps in his office for visitors and for you.

Watching you bundle up in one of his sweaters that you’ve stolen, staring out the porthole, watching the darkness of night with tired eyes, he also knows sleep has been hard for you to find recently.

Marco brings over the drinks and sets them on the table, he makes you budge up on the armchair and pulls you against him.

“I know your sad baby bird,” He begins and stroking back your hair, smiling when you lean into his touches, leaning against him.

“I’m here when you're ready to talk yoi.” He offers and your touched, feeling warmth in your heart as he keeps you close to him on the sofa,

“Well, lately I feel like…. I feel like a mess, a burden, I feel all I do is push people away and..” you spill everything to him and he listens, he nods and gives you advice, nothing intrusive, just tries to help you defuse the feelings and thoughts in your head.

He stays by your side all night, until you fall asleep next to him, his arms around you.

Marco picks up a book and reads, not wanting to disturb your sleep, glad you finally have a moment so you can relax and escape your thoughts.

ACE UNDER READ MORE

Ace

He knows what it’s like to have all these nasty voices in your head, being your own worst enemy, making you think things and doubt yourself.

Sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing your cheek.

“You look like someone who needs to raid the kitchen for something sweet.” He said with a grin on his freckled face, winking at you.

You nod and allow him to drag you away, sneaking into the kitchen, and grabbing some cookies or baked goods before sitting together on a crate and watching the sunset.

“I know it’s hard,” He says with a sigh in his voice as he leaned back on the palms of his hands, staring at the sinking sun, and the oranges that set the horizon on fire.

“Ain’t nothing I can say that’s going to help, not really, you just gotta trust that people love you, people care, things just get in the way.” He shrugged his shoulders before tilting his head to watch you.

“I love you.” He added and you felt yourself smiling.

“I just can’t stop the sounds in my head Ace, I hate how everything makes me feel, I feel I’m drowning, suffocating, I feel so unhappy all the time and I just want to stop hating myself.” There’s a hiccup in your voice and he sits up, wrapping his arm around you, kissing the side of your head as he tries to soothe you.

“I’m here to tell you that it’s okay, your doing good, you ain’t a burden and I’m not going anywhere, alright?” Ace smiles when you sniffle and nod.

[oceansprompts]

marvel's midnight suns | misc quotes 5

But I guess Queens is not important enough for the news media to cover.

Sometimes I feel like I should be there with her…

Second… New York already had a hellmouth in Staten Island…

Yes, How do I stop my science-minded brain from melting into whimpering sludge?

I even knew a doctor that accidently turned himself into a vampire.

Why, because one of my ex-nemeses now lives in the same building…

Anyway, that’s not the only reason I’m on edge…

So, word on the street is that you just got a massive shipment of artisan sodas…

But that’s just it, what if that radioactive spider decided to chomp down on someone else’s behind…

Wow. The books in this place are something else…

I’m not asking you to pull any strings for me or anything like that…

So, you got a favorite genre of music we could put the tune to?

You said be the best I can be and I’m all for that…

So, I’m the guy who stops bag snatchers and ATM thieves…

So, are you one of the kids? Or the second oldest adult? I don’t know how to treat you.

I haven’t lived with people outside of family. Am I doing it wrong? Do I write an apology note, or… How do I fix this?

Here, I have access to two whole Super Hero teams, each with their own way of doing things. It’s eye-opening.

So what’s your preference? I heard you spent much of your life working solo…

So you’re an open book, huh?

Is that something you were striving for?

Did you ever go through a rebellious stage?

I used to be self-conscious of my appearance…

Do you have any desire to fly?

My reputation might be intimidating…

Unless you don’t have the desire to explore.

You don’t see me as hard to approach?

Uh… Thanks again for what you did for me…

We’ve been so busy. I haven’t processed what I did under their control…

The worst are the faces I don’t remember…

Then… Nothing. I’ve had that one on loop for days.

Hey, uh… You didn’t read it, did you?

I spent most of my childhood trying to measure up to that monster’s unattainable standards.

True, it’s just this place reminds me of the church…

No, he caught the bad guy like he always does…

I’m really starting to get used to this place…

Those heroes often do what is “right”, even if that means…

Oh, that’s my stomach. I think it’s time for a snack…

I–I think you misunderstand. The suit turns into my clothes…

Okay, so far. Kinda reminds me of summer camp, but…

It sounds dangerous and I like that…

Yeah. But it’s also distracting having someone chew your ear off…

I thought I smelled a weird doggy odor…

It’s essentially a substance used to make people into weapons.

We can’t all be born as unlucky as me.

I don’t get that feeling anymore, do you?

The map we have is pretty loose, but luckily, you’re gonna have me leading the way…

Yup, and we’re sorely lacking in the Hulk-killer department.

I hid Cap’s ‘America’s Number One Dad’ mug someplace he’ll never find it.

Man was I glad when indoor plumbing became a thing.

So, uh… Thanks for not leaving this old man behind.

Something softer, like Bob or Moonchild…

Or… maybe it’s the fact that I somehow managed to make a new friend.

Well so much for that. So… uh… What do you like to do for fun?

But spending time with you has given me complete utter faith…

The air always feels wrong here. Makes my hair stand on end.

No. You and me, doing this? Living weapons ain’t designed to relax. Can make a fella downright resentful.

Okay, I’m on sabbatical…

Don’t get in the habit of relaxing like this. Our enemies don’t take the day off.

I’ve seen how you are together…

When you run into someone you thought was gone for years…